Summary: "Because I can't take away what I did, no matter how much I may want to. I can't. But maybe he can set things right." Rose-Scorpius, and how they fall in love. Told from Rose's and Draco's POV. Post-DH, RHr.

AN (1): Recommended listening: "Falling Slowly" by The Swell Season

AN (2): Well, I know some of you aren't huge fans of Rose-Scorpius, but hopefully this story lets you know why I am :). Just so we're clear, as well, this is NOT Hermione-Draco, or anything like that at all. Ron loves his girl, and of course she loves him back! :D.

Phew, now that we're on the same page, this story is dedicated to my little sister, who turns fifteen next week! She's absolutely amazing, so, obviously, she's a huge HP fan, and she asked for a story about Rose and Scorpius and how their parents deal with everything. Hopefully I've done it justice. (Note: It alternates between Rose and Draco telling the story, but it should be fairly obvious what's happening.)

Please drop a review, friends! You're just great.

Erase Me Before I Fall

"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."
- Angela Schwindt

The scars were always just there. Part of them, because you'd known them forever, just like you'd known how her breath smells in the morning or the way he'd smile when she squeezed his hand.

Because they were your parents, and you'd only ever known them in the After.

...

When he's born, it's like the world is already different. I know that sounds cliche and ridiculous, in a way, and, in a way, it is, because he really is just one more person on the planet.

But in a bigger, more profound way, I hope that he's more than that. I hope that he lives the life I should have. That he stands for what he believes, and that he has loyalty beyond the traditions his family may have upheld in the past.

I hope, maybe more than anything in the world, that he never calls anyone a mudblood. Ever.

Because I can't take away what I did, no matter how much I may want to. I can't.

But maybe he can set things right.

...

You're nine years old when you realize that they weren't always there. Your father wasn't born with nightmares that would wake him in the middle of the night, screaming your mother's name. Your mother didn't always have Mudblood slashed into the soft underpart of her wrist.

But it dawns on you that these must be from the Before. Before you were born, Before your parents had gotten married. You know about The War, of course, but you don't really know.

And you climb on your mother's lap one night before bed, and your dad has his arm around her, and he smiles, ruffling your hair that's your hair because his hair is his hair, or at least that's what your mom told you, and you say, There was a Before.

And they look confused, but then you say, That's why everything that's hurt about you is hurt. The sad parts weren't always there.

And your mum, she gets tears in her eyes, and your dad looks like he wants to hit something very hard, but you know he's not mad at you - you're aware by now that people had hurt your mum, and that your dad still hates them very much.

Your mum nods and pulls you very tight, but it feels good still, and you whisper into her chest, But I know it's After now. I know.

Your dad's face softens and he kisses the top of your head. You're right, Rosie, he tells you.

...

I see her for the first time when Scorpius is three years old, at a Ministry function. She looks exactly like Hermione, with tiny features and a clever grin, except for she has Ron's hair.

I don't say hello - it's an unspoken rule, and I don't want to get punched or see Hermione cry, but I watch Ron pick her up and place her on his shoulders. Hermione's pregnant with their second child, and she waddles around in glowing bliss.

We send Scorpius off to play, and later, after dinner and drinks, go to pick him up.

He and Hermione's daughter are sleeping soundly next to each other, her left arm thrown across Scorpius's small torso, his legs slightly longer and tangled in hers.

Ron looks at them, and then at me, turning considerably red. He picks her up quickly, and she stays sound asleep.

I go to get Scorpius, and his eyes flutter open and then close again. He hugs me tight and I feel my heart ache and burst, all at once.

"What's her name?" I ask Ron, who was turning to leave.

He looks down at his beautifully disheveled daughter. "Rose." His eyes meet mine. "Her name is Rose."

"She looks just like Hermione."

Ron grins then, surprisingly. "Thank Merlin." Then he clears his throat, heading towards the door. "Goodnight, Malfoy," he says.

I tell him, "'Night."

...

You meet Scorpius Malfoy on the train. You've played together for years, even though your parents really do not like each other, you find nothing wrong with him.

In fact, Scorpius reminds you mostly of his mother, who is calm and smiles a lot, even though he looks like his father, who hurt your parents and your uncle a lot in the Before.

Hey, Scorp, you say, sitting down with him and Albus. You feel tired and antsy all at once, so you rest your head against his shoulder.

Hi, Rose, he smiles.

For years and years, now, you sometimes feel like your brain moves too fast. Your mum understands, because her brain moves in a hurry too, and so she gives you books and books and books to read, to help, and sometimes they do.

But sometimes, just like your mum needs your dad, you need someone too.

Rose? he asks.

Hmmm?

Today's a bad day. He says it quietly and like he knows it's already true, and you nod against his soft jumper.

Just relax, he says.

And you breathe.

...

They end up going to Wizarding Primary School together. On the days when Ron's on a mission, Hermione sometimes lets Scorpius come over to play at their house in the afternoon.

One day, when Rose and Scorpius are nine, I ask her.

She smiles a tired, sad smile. "He's never hurt her."

Sometimes I don't know what to say.

...

You kiss him for the first time when you're thirteen. By the lake, just before curfew. His mouth is warm and soft and it's your first kiss and his, too, and he tastes like chocolate and mint, and it makes everything in you feel right.

He smiles afterwards, his hand on your cheek. I've always wanted to do that, he whispers, his cheeks flushed.

You find yourself giggling like your mother and blushing like your father. You say, Me too.

...

"Dad?" he asks me, home for the summer before his fifth year.

"What?"

"You wouldn't..." he kicks at the rug in my office. "I really like Rose," he blurts.

I find myself smiling, wildly, irrationally happy. "That's great, Scorpius!"

He looks confused. "Really? I mean, I thought you and the Weasley's..."

"I did some very bad things before you were born. But those things don't apply to you," I tell him, and he seems to understand something deeply in that moment.

"I won't ever hurt her," he promises. And, in that moment, I very much do believe him.

...

You hear them fighting. You wish they'd stop, because you leave for sixth year tomorrow and you're Gryffindor prefect, and you really need to get a little rest because the first day back always stresses you out, especially because you're starting NEWT preparation this year, after you got eleven Outstandings on your OWLs (and yes, that is a record).

He's nothing like his father! your mum yells.

I don't bloody care! We're not going back there! Ever. Your father's tone is icy.

It's been over for a long time, Ron.

You hear footsteps, then a, It'll never be over. He did this to you.

You know your mum is crying, staring at her wrist. She mumbles, so quietly you strain to hear, No, he didn't. She did. Draco didn't do anything.

He watched you get tortured, Hermione! your dad roars. And you want to go back there?

You really think I want to go back there anymore than you do? Your mum's voice is shrill and loud and full of tears and immense pain you'll never understand. But this is what we fought for, Ron! This! So that there wouldn't be mudbloods-

-Don't say that word-

-anymore! So that our kids and Draco's kids could live without thinking of bloody Crucio's day after day!

Hermione, your dad whispers.

I stayed alive for our future, Ron. And this is it.

He doesn't say anything after that.

The next day, you hug your mum extra long before you board the train.

Thank you, you whisper.

And she nods. She's always understood.

...

There's still blood stains, and I really can't spend much time in that room before I feel completely petrified.

But we still walk past it when they come.

Hermione puts a hand on my shoulder and she stops, her breath catching.

I meet her eyes, and then we both look to our children. They're smiling, laughing with Hugo at some joke he just made. Rose's hair is short and curly and as red as her father's, and she's beautiful. Scorpius smiles at her like he knows how lucky he is, with Astoria's eyes, and he kisses her on the cheek.

I watch her take his hand.

Hermione looks back at me, and we glance at the room one last time. It doesn't take anything away. But I know this is what she fought for, and I am more thankful than anything in the world that Scorpius is worthy of that.

...

Dad, you say, after that night.

What? he asks.

You're the bravest man I know. Scorpius is scared of you.

He laughs and hugs you to his chest. He's good for you, even I can see that.

A miracle, you mumble.

He tickles you in the ribs then, and you laugh. I love you, Dad.

He smiles the smile that he only ever gives you. I love you, too, Rosie.

...

It's the day after they've finished their NEWTs. Rose is going to be a Healer, and I have no doubt that she qualified beyond anything she needed - somehow, I think she's even smarter than Hermione. Scorpius is joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (after a glowing recommendation from none other than Hermione Weasley, the Minister of Magic) as long as he qualifies, which I'm certain he did, because Rose studied with him.

I walk up to Scorpius's room to wake him because Astoria wants to have breakfast as a family, but I stop as soon as I open the door.

Rose is curled up, apparently without any clothes, against Scorpius's chest, both of their eyes closed peacefully. Her left arm is thrown over his heart, and his legs are tangled in hers.

I close the door silently, smiling to myself. I think fleetingly how hard Hermione must have slept after the war, how even the nightmares would've failed to keep her awake, and it makes me immensely sad.

But then I know it's now, and my son and her daughter - our children - are seemingly very much in love. And, really, that's worth everything.

For a while longer, I decide to let them sleep.

AN: As always, please let me know what's going through those wonderful heads of yours! Happy summer :)