The first time he smiled at you, you thought for sure you'd died and gone to heaven. Because he was devastatingly handsome. Because you never thought anyone as smart as him, as popular as him, as gorgeous as him would ever look at you the way he was looking at you at that moment.

The first time he kissed you, you were sure that you'd never kiss anyone but him again. Because you felt like you could kiss him forever. Because nobody else's embrace could feel so good. So right. Because nobody else could whisper such sweet, perfect things in your ear.

The first time the two of you made love, that night in the Room of Requirement, you felt like you were the only two people left in the world. Because he told you he loved you. And you believed him. Because you'd never felt that way before. Because you never wanted anyone else to make you feel the way he was making you feel.

The first time he proposed to you, on that sunny day in Diagon Alley, was also the last time he proposed to you. Because you said yes right away. Because you didn't care that your family might not approve or that your friends kept trying to convince you he was a jerk. Because you refused to even think that he was only proposing because of the baby that was growing inside you.

The first time the two of you had a fight, you forgave him almost immediately. Because you ignored the things he said about your family. The way his lip curled when he called your mother a mudblood. The way his fingers gripped his wand, his knuckles turning white, like any minute he could lose control and point the wand right at you. Because you let him take you in his arms and lead you upstairs and say sorry, sorry, sorry as he pushed inside you, as gently as ever.

The first time he came home late, you sat and waited for him, the dinner on the growing cold, watching the clock. Because you were sure he'd be home any minute. Because it wasn't his fault that he had to work late. Because you didn't want to argue with him. Not again. There had been too many fights recently.

The first time you caught him with another woman, you took him back. Because you ignored the voice in your head. The one that was telling you that you were being stupid. The one that sounded a lot like your father. The father you hadn't talked to in two years because your husband didn't like him, or any of your family and friends for that matter, and didn't like it when you talked to them. Because he said he was sorry. Because he told you he still loved you. And you believed him.

The first time he hit you, you contemplated leaving him, but you didn't. Because he said he'd never, ever do it again. Because it didn't even hurt…much. Because he kissed the bruise and apologized over and over again as he made love to you that night. Because you told yourself he was telling the truth and that you were safe and your daughter was safe and everything would be okay.

The first time you felt something for a man who wasn't your husband, you tried to ignore it. Because you loved your husband and nobody else, especially not this man who had driven you crazy back in your Hogwarts days, with his blond hair, piercing gray eyes, infuriatingly arrogant attitude, and cocky smirk. Because you pretended that it wasn't a big deal that he'd comforted you when he found you crying in the broom cupboard at work. Because you tried to forget how understanding he'd been. How he'd wiped away your tears. How he knew immediately what had happened when he saw the bruises.

The first time that other man kissed you, you stopped trying to ignore everything you'd been feeling for him. Because you realized that you'd been wrong. Your husband didn't love you. The empty feeling inside you when he smiled at you, or kissed you, or made love to you was proof of that. The bruises that covered your body were proof of that. Because when this man kissed you, you felt alive for the first time in years, you felt safe, and happy… and in love.

The last time you saw your husband, you didn't say goodbye. You didn't give him one last kiss. You didn't cry or second-guess yourself. You just packed up your belongings and took your daughter's hand and led her out of that house. Because your husband didn't deserve a goodbye. He didn't deserve anything from you. You'd wasted five years of your life on him and he wasn't getting a second more. Because you had found someone who truly loved you. Someone who would never keep you from your family and friends. Someone who would never cheat on you or hit you or make you feel worthless. Someone who your father had told you, years and years ago, not to get too friendly with. Someone who proved to be a good man, despite his last name. Because you were Rose Weasley and he was Scorpius Malfoy. And you belonged together. Forever.


I've never written anything in second-person before, but I thought it would work well for this story. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought of the story.