Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Jane Eyre, Nocturne F, or the beautiful song that inspired this story.

Ginny Potter bent down to take the cookie sheet out of the oven. Living with Harry, she had come to enjoy doing things the way the muggles did. The amount of problems that resulted from this was another matter entirely; she was just glad that this batch hadn't burned or caught fire like the others. She grabbed the sheet and began to straighten up again when the fireplace to her right exploded in green flames and light. She screamed and the cookies went flying.

"IMMOBULUS!" said the blond boy who was coming out of the fireplace, wand drawn, pointing at the cookies now floating in midair.

"Scorpius." she said shakily, placing one palm on her heart and leaning against the counter. She heard a muffled laugh and looked up.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Potter, I didn't mean to frighten you." Scorpius said sheepishly. He had been there for only a minute and had already caused a catastrophe. He hoped desperately that things would go well, knowing the Potters' and Weasleys' silent but present resignation when it came to his family, but it seemed that trouble followed him everywhere he went.

"That's alright, I'm far too jumpy ," Ginny smiled and removed her wand from her dress's pocket and began to move the cookies from the air into their proper location on the plate sitting on the counter.

"Oh, let me, please, it's my fault," Scorpius waved his wand and they all floated onto the plate with a muttered "wingardium leviosa."

"Thanks," she said and pocketed her wand again. "Harry took Al, Lilly, and James to Diagon Alley this morning, they should be back soon. We weren't expecting you this early."

Scorpius reddened a bit, his expression full of profuse apologies. "My parents decided to leave a bit earlier for their vacation. You know how they are. I didn't mean to be a bother." He explained.

"Don't be silly, you're never a bother. Go on upstairs and put your things in the guest room. You're welcome to look around, go out into the back yard, whatever you wish. Why don't you have a cookie as well?" she said pointing at the plate and went back to the food preparation.

Scorpius took one, mumbled his thanks and grabbed the trunk next to his feet and levitated it, heading toward the stairs. Al's mom was really nice, and he was glad of it. He looked around the living room, as he approached the steps. Not much had changed since he had last visited, a grand fireplace surrounded by cozy chairs and sofas, the Daily Prophet on the coffee table, next to a half-empty mug of coffee. Pictures flooded every wall. Harry, Hermione, and Ron during their days at Hogwarts. Harry's parents. Ginny's parents. But most of all, pictures of their three kids in every place you could imagine, he even saw his own face smiling from a few of them. He chewed the cookie slowly and walked up the stairs and to the first room on the right.

The Potters had a house the perfect size for them, no small cottage, but no Malfoy manner, either. A large porch ran all around the light blue house below, a balcony wrapped around in the same way above. Each room had access to the outdoors. Scorpius put his trunk in the corner of the room that bore leafy green colored walls and a large bed with white posts. He stepped over to the French doors and opened them, stepping out onto the balcony that faced the backyard. Leaning on the wooden rail he looked around to the vast green that lay ahead. The forest beyond thinned slowly into the crisp grassy lawn. There was another house to the right that he knew belonged to Hermione and Ron Weasley. Since the Burrow contained a large lot of land, Molly Weasley had given this part to two of her kids to build their houses on if they wished. They were just a short distance from the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He did not know what Ginny and Ron were thinking, however, he would never live this close to his parents if he was married. The Weasleys had always been close as a family, but this was insanity.

Something moved in the trees behind the Weasly house, a flash of white, he focused on the area and spotted a person. It was Rose Weasley. She was high up in a large oak tree, sitting on a branch, reading a book. He smiled; he had been wondering when he would see her. Their parents and most of the faculty at Hogwarts were quite surprised to find that Albus Severus Potter, Rose Weasley, and Scorpius Malfoy had become best mates, despite their families' history, but prejudice and grudges had to be overcome or at least hidden, because their children were always together. He closed his eyes, the wind was blowing wisps of air through his hair and the sun warmed his face. He had always loved summer days, nothing could ever beat them. He decided to go pay his friend a visit, he walked back down the stairs, smiled at Ginny and went out through the doors that connected the living room and backyard.

Ginny watched Scorpius creeping slowly into her brother's yard and wondered what the boy was up to until she saw Rose sitting in her tree, reading, as she did every day around this time. She laughed, this ought to be good she thought to herself, remembering her own earlier scare. She continued to watch as Scorpius got closer and closer to the tree.

Rose was a reader. She had always been. When she picked up a book, especially one of her favorites, she was hooked by the rusty anchors of aged sailors, captured by the charming smiles and luring words of old English gentlemen, and transfixed by the quick wit and fluid language of ancient poets. When she read, she was completely unaware of the world around her, living in a world created by imagery and diction. Her brother had often taken advantage of this lapse of attention to play tricks on her as they grew up: they were always successful.

Scorpius was now by the trunk of the oak watching Rose on the other side, reclining on the trunk in her white summer dress, her bare feet crossed on the branch in front of her, pink toenails in the air, sapphire eyes focused intently on the page before her. The breeze blew her auburn curls around her face. Scorpius found himself staring. He was so used to seeing her in the strict Hogwarts uniform, hair tied up in a bun, crisp white oxfords, held together by garnet and gold ties, sweater vests, and black robes, always burdened and weighed down by mountains of schoolwork. She looked so free, alive. She smiled at something that she read, and turned the page of the little weathered novel. This sort of environment suited her, he found, bright and sunlit, just like her. The way she perched herself atop the large branch, smooth pale skin bluntly contrasting with the rough brown bark around her, Merlin, was she always this delicate? He almost didn't want to disturb her. He shocked himself a bit, miss a chance to embarrass his best friend? Never.

He smirked and set a silence charm on himself and began to climb the tree until he was directly behind her, on the other side of the trunk. He undid the spell and leaned forward until he was a few inches from her ear.

"BOO!" he yelled. She screeched and chucked the book into the air, it landed with a thud in the grass below. She lost her balance and fell off the branch, he leaped to where she was just sitting, grabbed her wrists, and smiled a her glaring face below. "Hello, Rosie."

"SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY! HOW DARE YOU!?" she screamed. "GET ME UP ALREADY!" He lifted her up and put her next to him on the branch, having already usurped her spot against the trunk.

"I'm happy to see you, too!" he responded cheerfully. She continued to glare. "Oh, come on, that was not that bad. You should have seen your Aunt Ginny earlier," he grinned.

"I almost fell out of a tree because you decided to be a bloody idiot."

"Why were on a bloody tree in the first place?" he responded, clearly amused.

"Maybe I like the tree." she shot back, defiantly. He started to laugh.

"Alright, whatever you say." He flashed her a bright white smile. She shoved his shoulder, trying to look mad, but ended up laughing, he started to as well.

"Only you," she laughed, "and how come you're here, anyway, weren't you supposed to show up later tonight?"

"Yes, but my parents, and well… you know how they are." She nodded, smiling, recalling stories of a very er… intimate couple that always waited for Scorpius at the platform after they left Hogwarts, and whenever they departed London to go to Hogwarts.

"Show how've you been, Scor?"

"Decent. Slightly lonely, sitting at home with nothing to do for a month"

"Well you're here now, and believe me, after that whole debacle, any peace of mind you had before will have gone after I'm through with you." She leaned toward him and threatened with an amused glare.

"Oh, really?" he said audaciously, leaning closer. "What exactly are you going to do with me?" He smirked suggestively.

She flushed red, but played along; she got closer, smiling with implication, their faces mere centimeters apart. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to do." His eyes widened slightly, she could tell that he was trying to control his reaction, but his shock got the best of him.

"Is that right?" he whispered, even closer.

"Yup." She smiled and shoved him off the branch.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" He shouted as he plummeted to the ground. She whipped out her wand, pointed it at him, and he froze in mid air, a foot from the ground.

"ROSE WEAS--!" he started to yell, but she flicked her wand again and he flopped onto the ground, mouth full of grass. She giggled hysterically from the branch above as he got up and shot her a glare, while brushing the dirt and leaves off himself.

"I'm sorry--where you saying something?" She said in between spasms of laughter.

"You and your bloody tree," he muttered darkly under his breath, picking up her book, which lay on the ground next to him; this was mostly an attempt to shield his face, which began to redden, he cursed himself for falling for that, for being so gullible. He lifted the book up, slowly, composing himself. Jane Eyre read the soft, intricate cursive on the cover. The picture of the woman was faded, the corners worn, the spine indicated that it was opened a few more times than it was meant to. He flipped to a random page and read dramatically in a high pitched voice:

"I have told you, reader, that I had learnt to love Mr. Rochester; I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me-- because I might pass hours in his presence and he would never once turn his eyes in my direction-- because I saw all his attentions appropriated by a great lady, who--"

While Scorpius had his little soliloquy, Rose snapped a twig from the branch she sat on and flung it at him, interrupting his oration.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled, dropping the book, holding his hands up in surrender.

"That's what you get for making fun of Jane." She declared, starting to climb down the tree, the motions ingrained in her mind, having climbed up and down it so many times since she was little. Once she was close enough to the ground, she jumped and landed lithely in the grass, walking over to pick up her battle-worn book, clutching it to herself.

Some yards away, Ginny stood by her kitchen window, overtaken by laughter. Priceless she thought, flicking her wand toward the vegetables on the cutting board, making the knife dice them itself, so she could return to the window, she would have to share today's events with Harry and Hermione when they came back, she knew they'd appreciate it, Ron she was more hesitant toward, his anger got the best of him sometimes.

Now that Rose was standing in front of him, their height difference became more pronounced: he was at least a full head taller. "What'd you do with that thing anyway, drive over it repeatedly with the Knight Bus?" he said, pointing at the object in her hands.

"No." she said, slightly offended "It's my mother's; it has been since she was our age." She explained, taking in the appearance of the well-loved book.

"Ah." He understood; many professors had spoken about Hermione Granger in her years at Hogwarts; his dad had mentioned a few things as well. He frowned: they weren't good things. Insufferable know-it-all he called her, remembering. Rose had inherited her mother's love of knowledge and books, especially the classic romances, he noticed, having spotted her with Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights before, equally as worn. He smiled to himself, still looking at the book.

"Erm… you there?" She waved one hand in front of him; he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Barely." He joked.

"I can see. You want a butterbeer?" She asked, starting to stride to her house, taking dainty bare-footed steps in the green grass. Merlin, has she always been this graceful? Her dress fluttered in the wind, and now that she was out of the shade of the three, the sun made her hair shine a fiery red as it blew wildly.

"…uh… yeah." He muttered , still looking after her. She threw her head back, facing the sun, eyes closed, arms out, and began to twirl around.

"Gosh, don't you just love the summer?" She spoke, smiling brightly.

"I do," he said quietly, still looking at the way she easily glided over the earth. He realized he was just standing there, fixed in his spot, staring, so he began to follow her to the patio which contained six reclining chairs to one side, and a long table for twelve to the other. She sat down in one of the reclining chairs, lounging, she waved her wand, summoning two butterbeers. She made a motion for him to sit as well. He followed, and sat in the chair next to her, grabbing his butterbeer as it floated to him, opening it easily. She was struggling with her own. He smirked; she glared, but then pouted and held her bottle toward him.

"Nope." He said smugly, reclining and sipping his drink. She made a disgruntled noise next to him. "If you hadn't pushed me out of that bloody tree, then maybe I'd open it." Karma. He turned toward her, prepared to laugh at her reaction, but she only deepened the pout and batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Merlin, woman, you'll be the death of me." He grabbed the bottle from her hand and easily twisted the cap off, and handed it back. She laughed.

"No, never death, just near it, because if you die who will I be able to mock?"

"Ah, yes, the ulterior motive. How could you go on without me?"

"I couldn't." She said, completely earnest. He smiled. Merlin, she loved that smile. In a strictly platonic sense, of course. Silence followed for a minute or two.

"Where's your annoying git of a little brother?" Scorpius asked, looking around. He tried to peer inside, but it was so bright outside that he couldn't.

"Oh, him and my parents went to Diagon Alley with the Potters. Something about a famous author and new broomsticks"

"And you stayed here by yourself?"

"Yeah, I mean, do you know how hard it is to get some peace and quiet around here?" He thought about that: one annoying brother, two over-protective parents, three cousins, an aunt and uncle, grandma and grandpa down the path; that would be enough to drive any person bonkers.

"I see."

She laughed at his expression. "Yeah, I love them all to death, but sometimes I just want some silence and time for myself. Hence my tree, I've been going there since I was six years old and could climb it without falling." She smiled, remembering bruises and scarred knees from her early years of exploration. "I don't mind being alone, though, sometimes I need it, like today, to sort out my thoughts and clear my mind."

"That shouldn't take very long." He grinned at his own joke.

"Ha. Ha. You're hysterical." She retorted blandly.

"I know." He continued to smile.

"And modest, it seems."

"Of course, I happen to be really good at being modest."

She watched the trees swaying from side to side, whispering secrets in the wind. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the sun was so bright that instead of blue, the sky seemed golden, as it always looked on perfect summer days such as this one.

As she looked on, he looked at her. Everything from her nose, to her cheeks, shoulders, and arms was covered in small freckles, he wondered why he never noticed small details such as these before, after all, they had been best friends for five years. She noticed him looking and covered her cheeks with her hands, blushing.

"The blasted Weasley complexion. Very pale, quick to blush, and never tan. When in the sun, we either freckle or burn. It seems today it's the former, it tends to alternate." She complained, removing her hands from her cheeks and looking over her arms.

"Ah, yes, but that's nowhere near as terrible as the Malfoy complexion. Very pale, seldom blush, and in the sun we either pale or pale. Today, it appears that I am the latter, though the level of pale varies from day to day." He complained, imitating her; they both started to laugh.

"You wanna come in? It's scorching in the open sun." She asked, sitting up.

"Sure." He got up and followed her figure to the French doors that led into the house.

The temperature difference was profound; he found the cool air refreshing. He stood and looked around the Weasleys' living room. The walls were lined in mahogany bookshelves that held hundreds of volumes on every subject imaginable. On some shelves there were picture frames and little baubles and souvenirs from various vacations and business trips. Any spare inch of wall not covered in shelves held muggle paintings, from minuscule in size to many feet wide, of all different styles. Scorpius could identify some of the pieces, for they were some of his favorites as well. There was a large fireplace with a mantle that matched the shelves, in front of it were two large sofas that faced each other, a table in between, on which more books were stacked. It had the air of a library, yet it was more inviting. There was a raised area in the far left corner, where a sleek black grand piano was the main focus, a stack of sheet music with octive-bouncing notes stood perched on the stand.

Rose noticed where he was looking and smiled. "I love that piano."

"You know, you've talked about the fact that you play, but I've never actually heard you play. Play me something."

She blushed and mumbled nervously, she had a horrible case of stage fright, playing in front of people made her nervous, like she was being judged. "I couldn't-- I-- plus I wouldn't even know... what to play..." He walked over and put his hand on her shoulder; she tried to act nonchalant, but physical contact did not help.

"Play me your favorite." He smiled encouragingly. She looked into his gray eyes and realized that she was acting ridiculous. This was Scorpius, her best friend, he wouldn't judge her. She walked over and sat down on the bench, he followed and leaned on the back of the sofa, watching.

It began. Her fingers glided over the keys fluidly, a sad tune resounded in the room. She closed her eyes and continued playing, her expression mirroring the notes that swam in the air around them. The emotion portrayed in the music stunned him, the way she seemed to identify with it, even more so. Her fingers delicately created each note, it was a wonder that such a light touch could produce such a sound. She finished with a long melancholy note, her eyes still shut. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She finally opened them, and turned to face him. He smiled with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"That was beautiful." He whispered, though he dint know why. "What was it?"

"Chopin. Nocturne F in C sharp minor."

"You never cease to amaze me." He stated with utmost sincerity and walked over to the bench, his footsteps resonating in the silence, sitting next to her. She hugged him; he had no idea how much that meant to her. She looked up at him, still enveloped in his strong arms. Blue met gray. The day met the night. He leaned closer, hesitating, his eyes never leaving hers. She placed one hand gently on his cheek, leaning closer, centimeters, millimeters, slowly disappearing between them.

The fireplace exploded in green flames with a loud CRACK; they wretched apart just in time, before a chatting Ron and Hermione began to exit the fireplace, Hugo close behind.

"...like you wouldn't believe! I could barely--" Ron stopped talking, taking in the sight of the two seated at the piano. "What are you two doing?" He asked, suspicious.

Years of practice on her belt, she gave her dad an unfazed look. pointing at the sheet music. "I was playing Chopin for Scor. Apparently he's never heard of him. I thought that was a horrible flaw on his part, so I took pity on him and played him Nocturne F in C sharp minor." She stated matter-of-fact-ly, looking at Scorpius with a disappointed look. Ron seemed appeased muttering something about how he loved 'that one', not to mention whenever Rose used 'piano talk' he always nodded profusely, acting well-informed, when in fact he had no idea what the difference between a sharp and a flat was. Her mother, Hermione, however, gave her a knowing look before she followed her husband out of the room.

The newcomers walked outside, continuing their conversation, and closing the door behind them to keep the cool air from getting out. Silence filled the room. Rose and Scorpius looked at each other for a moment and, as if on cue, mutually broke out into laughter, their guffaws reverberating from the walls, as they got up and followed her family out to the patio.

Thank you for reading! I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. Please review. I would love to hear your input. : ]

If you'd like to hear Nocturne F, here is a link: www . youtube . com/watch?v=76TgbcdIRyE

If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this story, here is a link: www . youtube . com/watch?v=6Fdm9Jv3pbU

(Remove the spaces, of course. I added those because the link disappeared without them.)