Hello everyone! Well here is what has become a much anticipated story for me, and for some of my readers. As has been explained elsewhere, this is my first Rose/Scorpius story, and for the time being it will be rated T, but this may change, depending on where I see this going. I want to thank everyone who has adding my other stories as favorites and reviewing my other two stories, and I hope you enjoy this one as much as the others. Please continue to read and review.

p.s. This chapter is similar to a prologue, the other chapters will appear somewhat different in nature.

Disclaimer: I own only the story line, not the characters.

Hermione Weasley eased herself back into the cushions lining the window seat adjacent to her kitchen, letting her head gently fall back against the wall as she let the fresh breeze flow through the open windows and onto her face, a warm mug of tea cradled in her hands. For the past few months, her house had been full of nothing less than constant noise; her children and their endlessly growing number of cousins running in and out, flooing from one house to another; the laughter (and more often than not) arguing between she, Ronald, and their children both before and after dinner; and not to forget, the noises and movements of no less than five family pets. And no matter how hectic, tiring, and stressful those moments became, everything always found a way to work out in the end, and even the most stressful of moments were made worthwhile for quiet ones such as this.

Hermione loved the flexibility of her job at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. After having almost immediately accepting a position with the Ministry following the Second Wizarding War and her brief return to Hogwarts to complete her education, Hermione had quickly risen through the ranks and was now one of the most prominent lawyers in all of Wizarding England, campaigning and fighting for the rights of both magical creatures, and now more often than not, for the rights and protection of intermingling bloodlines in a new era of inter-bloodline relationships following Voldermort's defeat. Yet, thankfully, all her hard work and countless hours of overtime—she was rarely home before eight in the evening during the school year—had allowed her to work from her home office during the summer and holiday seasons, allowing her to be at home with her children during the precious time she was able to see them since their start at Hogwarts.

At the thought of her children, Hermione smiled. Definitely the son of two-thirds of the golden trio, Hugo Ignatius Weasley was borderline uncontrollable, always in constant motion with no less than two warning letters coming to both her and Ronald each year since he went away to Hogwarts. With the trademark fire-red Weasley hair, there was no questioning why the Sorting Hat had a near fit when he was sorted five years ago, immediately sending him off to join the Gryffindor table, Headmaster McGonagall smiling as he scurried off. Just a few months younger than his cousin Lily, Hugo was often seen with the Potter siblings, especially with Albus and Lily now that James had gone off to work with the Ministry himself following his graduation from Hogwarts the previous year. Just about to enter his fifth year, Hermione knew the challenges her son was about to face—just like his father, tests were not his forte; but with an entire clan behind him, she knew he would make it out ok, even if just by an inch.

And then there was Rose. She still vividly remembered flooing Ginny Potter when she first found out she was pregnant, the fluttering in her stomach and how she was barely able to contain herself, confiding in Ginny (and subsequently Harry—Ginny was never good at keeping secrets from her husband) before letting Ronald in on their big news that night after dinner. Hermione fondly smiled remembering how it was seven years ago now that she, Ronald, and of course the entire Weasley and Potter clan, had taken their countless offspring to Platform 9 ¾, the nervous look on her daughter's face that only she was able to recognize. And even now, Hermione could barely believe her little Rosie—Rose Auden Weasley—was eighteen years old.

Like her mother, Rose had curly brown hair, softly cascading down her back, although she had always had the spiraling curls; and thanks to her father, her face was blessed with a scattering of freckles across her nose and again over the apples of her checks, her eyes a brilliant shade of blue. Hermione and Ronald had been so proud of Rosie the day her final Hogwarts letter had arrived, complete with a shiny golden badge, heralding her as Hogwarts newest Head Girl. It had been a moment Hermione had only dreamed about for her daughter, although it might have been possible that the freckled face teenager was even smarter than her mother; but even more so, it was a moment that brightened a troubled past for the sole daughter in her household.

Even though Rose had no less than ten other cousins and pseudo-cousins (sons and daughters of dear friends of their parents, aunts, and uncles) at Hogwarts before her—each and every one sorted into Gryffindor House—the same fate had not been predestined for her first-born. Moments after her cousin, and much cherished best fiend Albus Potter, had been sorted into Gryffindor, eleven year-old Rosie had nervously walked up to the Sorting Hat, cautiously smiling at Professor McGonagall as the elderly woman placed the Hat on her head. But instead of instantly shouting out "Gryffindor!" as it had with all of her cousins and both of her parents before her, the Sorting Hat took several minutes before making its decision, and when he finally announced where she would be spending the next seven years of her life, the announcement shook the entire Weasley and Potter clan to the core; Ravenclaw was to be Rosie's home.

The Sorting Hat's decision, while surprising, was not completely out of the question for Hermione; she herself had often wondered if she was not better suited to the house her daughter was sorted into. Upon hearing of her daughter's new house, Hermione had immediately bought the shy, but brilliant eleven-year-old several volumes on the house's history, not to mention several blue and bronze colored scarves and outside attire for the Quidditch matches she already knew her daughter would attend. However, the same could not be said for her husband. At first, Ronald Weasley had thought it was a joke: his daughter a Ravenclaw? Yes she was smart, brilliant for her age just like her mother, but every Weasley for generations had been in Gryffindor. Why not his daughter too? In fact, much to the horror of his wife, Ron Weasley had, had the audacity to floo McGonagall concerning his daughter's sorting, and even then, sulked around the house for several months, barely able to create a smile on his face when Rose returned for the winter holidays. His reaction to Rose's sorting had been the first of many marital setbacks for Hermione and Ron; and while everything was good now (Ron still supported Gryffindor more than Ravenclaw, but was the proudest a father ever could be of his daughter), a rift was created between the father and daughter, a rift which often only resurfaced during times of great tension between the two.

Coming out of her trance, Hermione took a sip of her tea and turned her head towards the clock hanging silent, albeit a constant tick-tock, tick-tock, above the mantle of their fireplace. It was nearly four in the afternoon; her husband and children were due home any moment before they in turn would depart as a family to the Burrow for the end of the summer Weasley family dinner, always held the night before the children went back to Hogwarts; a final moment for the family to get together as a whole and enjoy themselves. But right as she was about to ponder how the afternoon had gone for her family, her thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous pop and a roar of flames following soon after.

Eyes wide, Hermione quickly set her mug on the windowsill and flew out of her comfortable spot in the window seat, making her way into living room where she saw fifteen-year-old Hugo staring wide eyed up the stairs. Hermione opened her mouth to ask him what was the matter when another pop sounded to her right, a flash of red hair and an even redder face.

"Rose!" roared Ronald Weasley, his face nearly puce with anger. "Get back down here now!"

"Why, have you found yet another way to utterly embarrass me in front of the entire school or have you not yet had your fill of ruining my life and the reputation of MY house?" The voice echoing down the stairway was steeped in anger of the greatest kind, and not unnoticed by her mother, Rose's voice was also leaded down with tears threatening to spill at any moment from the crystal blue spheres which betrayed each and every one of her daughter's many emotions.

"Rose Auden Weasley, get down here this instant, or Merlin help me you will regret it." Hermione had to hold on to her husbands arm, completely unaware of the newest wedge of tension between her daughter and husband, but entirely aware that the tempers between the father and daughter pair were at a breaking point. If she didn't stop one of them immediately, spells were going to be thrown.

"Rosie," Hermione called, "please come down here and calmly explain to me what the problem is."

Another thunderous pop—the sounds surrounding apparation were always intensified when Rose was furious—and Hermione was face to face with her daughter, who as she had previously guessed was fighting back tears, her wand gripped in one hand and her finger accusingly pointed at her father. Blue eyes narrowed as she responded to her mother.

"Ask him. Ask him what he did today and maybe, just maybe, I will speak to him again."

"What I did?" fired back her husband, "I did nothing wrong. You blew up over a tiny suggestion."

Hermione heard her son snort behind her, struggling to maintain his composure after his father's retort. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione entreated her son as to enlighten her on the subject.

"Well," Hugo began, "we were almost done with all of our shopping for school tomorrow when Dad and Uncle Harry got distracted by the new broom models on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. So Rosie went with Lily to look at new robes since Rosie's Head Girl and Lily got Perfect this year."

Hermione noted her daughter's lip starting to quiver.

"Well, they started trying on a few new styles or fashions or whatever you call them. Rosie had just tried on a new blue robe with what Lily kept calling 'sunset gold ivy embroidering' around the neck area when Dad came in. Rosie turned around when she heard the bell ring, Aunt Ginny was supposed to come in and join us—she was going to buy Rosie a new robe as a present for getting Head Girl. And then suddenly Dad was yelling. I'm not quite sure about what…"

Her son trailed off, looking over to his father who now, despite continuing to look angry, was now beginning to shy away from his wife.

"What did you say Ronald." Hermione's statement was a command, not a question; her voice devoid of her normal questioning tone, bordering on icy.

"He said…" Rose struggled to find her voice. "He said I looked no better than the trash that hangs in the corner of the bars in Hogsmead, claiming the robes were too revealing. He ordered me to take the robe off in front of everyone Mum; everyone. Nearly half my year was in the shop with me. Now everyone is going to think that my own parents don't trust me. How is anyone going to respect me now?"

"Ronald you didn't. Please tell me you didn't." Ron couldn't look his wife in the eye.

"It get's worse Mum." Hermione didn't need to speak in order for her son to continue. "Not only was half of Rosie's year in Madam Malkin's, not to mention half of mine and Lily's year, but Scorpius was buying his robes too."

"I don't see why Malfoy's son has anything to do with this," snapped Ron.

Before Hermione had any chance to answer her husband's inquiry or to hush him for a later response, her daughter replied to his question.

"It has everything to do with it Dad. Scorpius Malfoy is Head Boy and now, thanks to you, he thinks I can't make a single decision on my own without my dear Daddy barging in and telling me what to do." Swallowing back a tear-chocked sob, Rose Weasley looked at her mother, sniffled quietly, and silently apparated away to the safety of her room, a move almost immediately followed by her brother, retreating from his parents, stepping into the fireplace, and calling out the ever too familiar address of the Potter residence.

***

"Rosie," Hermione cautiously knocked on her daughter's bedroom door before turning the knob and walking in.

"I don't hate him. I know that's what he thinks."

Hermione sighed, sitting next to her daughter who was lying on her bed. "He doesn't think you hate him, he just has a hard time letting you grow up. You're his only daughter and he loves you very much. Your father just doesn't know how to handle the girls in his life growing up. You should have seen him when he found out Gin was dating. Not that I am trying to make excuses for his behavior, but please try and understand how hard it is for him to see you growing up. You're a very beautiful girl Rose."

Rose sat up, resting against her pillows. She ran her fingers through her curls, fluffing them back up.

"Aunt Ginny almost hexed him, in the middle of Diagon Alley. She would have if Uncle Harry and James didn't hold her back." Both women chuckled. "Why must our family be so loud, especially in public? I was just trying on a robe, not a nightie or anything."

"I've been asking myself that since I met your father dear; it is a Weasley mystery. But you're not so shy yourself, not based on the yelling you were exhibiting earlier. Poor Hugo retreated to Harry's after you went up to your room."

"Uncle Harry has a way of making everyone feel better, especially after we fight."

Hermione hugged Rose, kissing her temple. She really did love her shy, but mildly short-tempered daughter. Looking around her room, Hermione took in pictures of Rose, her cousins, and their friends, both at Hogwarts and during their summer and holiday vacations. She could hardly believe this was her last year; time at Hogwarts always went by too fast.

"And I know you don't want to hear this Rosie, but I am sure Scorpius will think nothing less of you after what happened today. You two get along well enough to not have your father's antics send things array."

Rose tapped her fingers on her thigh, her face turned away from her mother, her eyes focusing instead to the leaves of the willow outside of her window, swaying in the gentle summer breeze. She wished life were as simple, as understandable, as a leaf blowing in the wind.

"We do Mum, but that doesn't mean it wasn't embarrassing. He's Head Boy; we're going to be living in the same space just a few feet apart. I don't want him thinking I can't handle or dress myself without my father's permission. I don't want him to think I got the position just because I'm smart and Professor McGonagall has known me since I was born."

"I hardly think that is going to be the case dear. Never underestimate the Head Boy. Scorpius Malfoy is smart and talented, and deserves the position just as much as you do. Just give your father time to get used to the idea of you sharing a bathroom with Draco Malfoy's son. You know how hard your father is at forgiving people, even if everyone else in his family has."

Rose weakly smiled at her mother before leaning her head back and resting it against the wall behind her bed. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "I guess we should get going huh. I don't want to be the last one there again this year. Last time I ended up stuck between Lily and Roxanne and trust me, while I love my cousins, I have nothing in common with them and I have no desire to debate on which Quidditch player may or may not be better in bed."

Hermione smiled, Rose was definitely her daughter.