A/N: I own nothing you recognize.

This story is AU. There are some significant changes from canon. I'll refrain from revealing them now, because that would ruin the fun.

There are also some minor changes. In particular, I modified the age of some of the characters. I will note them at the end of chapters when they occur.

Hermione was sitting in the study of her comfortable London home, reading the latest copy of Transfiguration Today when she heard the back door slam. Aggravated, she stood and crossed the room. She had told the children not to slam the doors. She was shocked to see her daughter run past her and up the stairs. The bedroom door slammed, and Hermione could hear Rose sobbing in her room.

Hermione started up the stairs as her husband stepped out of the kitchen. "What was that about?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Hermione called down the stairs, rushing after he daughter. He followed her, catching up quickly. When they reached Rose's room, Hermione knocked quietly on the door.

"Go away, I don't want to talk about it," a small voice said from behind the door.

"Rose, honey, are you sure?" Hermione said gently to her daughter.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Rose, give us a shot. We're cooler than you give us credit for." The tall, red-haired man leaned casually on the door next to his wife. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "What? I am very cool." Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm, directing her attention back to their daughter.

Silence greeted them.

He pointed his wand at the door. Hermione held up her hand to stop him. Barging in would not accomplish anything. He gave her an innocent look, and then he continued the wand movement. To Hermione's surprise, the lock didn't turn. Whatever charm he had cast, it was not the one she had feared.

"Daaaad," Rose whined from behind the door, but her voice was lighter than before. "I'm not six years old anymore."

"But," he said, grinning at Hermione devilishly, "you are smiling now. Come on out, love. Your Mum and I are here for you. Give us a chance."

Rose opened the door slowly. She stood there for a moment, tear tracks still running down her face, a sad little smile on her lips. She threw herself into her mother's arms. Hermione hugged her little girl. Even though Rose was now seventeen, she would always be Hermione's little girl.

Hermione looked in her daughter's room, and then she turned and smiled at her husband. The floor, walls, and furniture were all covered in flowers. She should have known. That had always been his little game when Rose needed cheering up. It had started when Rose was just six and had gotten mumblemumps on her birthday. The party had to be cancelled, and Rose had cried in her room for hours. Hermione had been unable to console her, but he had come to the rescue. He conjured dozens of flowers all about her room. Since then, every year for her birthday, or when she was sick, he had decorated her room with magical flowers. Each time, the display was bigger than before. Hermione chuckled, thinking that they might need to enlarge Rose's room before her next disappointment. This time, the flowers absolutely filled the room.

Rose sniffed, breaking Hermione from her reverie. Hermione pulled Rose back and took a look at her. "What is it, Rose?"

"It's Scorpius. He's leaving." She hiccupped.

"Malfoy," her father growled dangerously. Hermione shot her husband a warning look. Rose needed comfort, not protection. Draco's whelp of a son was no threat. This was normal teenaged drama.

"Rose, sweetie, can we go down to the kitchen and talk? Dad can make ice cream, sweetie." Hermione looked at him, and he nodded.

Rose nodded against Hermione's shoulder, before whimpering, "Banana splits?"

He laughed heartily. "Absolutely, sweetie. Anything for my girls." He Apparated to the kitchen. Hermione took her daughter's arm and led her down the stairs. She listened to Rose go on for several minute; Scorpius had written to her, and he was leaving. She thrust the letter in her mother's hands.

Hermione read the letter several times. She looked up, confused.

"Rose, this doesn't sound like he's breaking up with you. He's just heading off to the university."

Rose harrumphed, "In France! It might as well be the moon."

"You're too young to be serious about anyone, anyway," he said as he set the ice-cream down in front of her. Rose burst into tears again. Hermione shot him a disbelieving look.

"What your father means, Rose," Hermione started soothingly, "is that you don't know which way life is going to take you. Sometimes we think that we've been dealt a bad hand, but in reality, life is pulling us in a better direction all along."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Mum, I really am not looking for clichés right now."

"Rose," Hermione said. "This time apart from Scorpius isn't the end of the world. You two can still write, and he'll be home to visit. I mean, you are going to head off to university next year, too. What are the odds you would have ended up at the same place? Maybe you'll end up together, maybe not. Whatever happens, you'll be okay."

"Easy for you to say," Rose sniffed. "You two have been married forever."

"Not forever, Rose," he said. In fact, our first kiss happened when I was about your age, but we didn't marry until I was nearly twenty-six. It was definitely not smooth sailing in between those two events."

"He's right, Rose, we didn't find each other easily," Hermione said definitively.

"No," he said. "No, we definitely didn't. Even though you were right in front from the time we were children, it took us a long time to figure it out."

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Do you think it's time we tell her the story?"

"The whole story?" He looked at her, shocked.

"Yes, dear. The whole convoluted story."

He gulped. "If you think it's a good idea."

"I think it is, George. She's old enough to understand it now. And I think it illustrates my point. You just never know what fate has in store for you."

A/N: Unlike in canon, Rose is one year younger than Scorpius here. He enters Hogwarts in 2017 in canon. For the purpose of this story, she enters in 2018. This chapter takes place on winter break during his seventh year (her sixth).