Chapter Text
I want...
Rose stood backstage, watching the last group perform their rehearsal on the wide, empty stage. The lights above cast shifting hues of purples, blues, and pinks over the space. The rows of vacant seats seemed to stretch endlessly, which was wow, in hindsight sort of depressing but also humbling. She could hear the beat of her own heart, each thump slightly mocking her in her mum's voice: Rose have you finished your homework, have you submitted this application, have you met this Professor? Have you, have you?
Gosh, she had to relax for a freaking second.
Breathe, Rosie, breathe...
Her hand reached up to her forehead, where a thin sheen of sweat had gathered. Ugh. She took her compact and checked her reflection, she didn't want to go overboard, just to be star-approved, so she gently patted her brow and chest with the pad, careful not to ruin her rouge. She only wore the basics, mascara, and deep peach lipstick. Rolled her hair a bit. She was among stars, some of whom had already made names for themselves. She couldn't afford to be lazy.
That's right, think like a Slytherin.
Dad would probably barf he knew. Their whole family were Gryffindors but Hugo always said Rose and Mum were more Snake than lion.
Thinking about them made her chest ache, she tempered the feeling down, focus, she had to focus!
She had prepared for this—three years as a backup dancer and singer, always on the sidelines, harmonizing in the shadows, never in the spotlight. But today was different. Today, she would be competing in the Star Launch Competition, her chance to finally let her voice rise above the noise, to be noticed.
To achieve her DREAM.
She had to stop herself from biting her lip and fidgeting too much and ruining her new mui mui black shoes. She had chosen her outfit with purpose—a sleek silver dress adorned with delicate bows, sparkling with embellishments that caught the light like stars. The structured corset top clung snugly to her frame, and her long red hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft, voluminous curls. Rose had wanted to look every bit the star she knew she could be. She felt beautiful, powerful even, in her own skin.
She loved singing, loved performing with her whole heart. The audience, the crowd fueled her like nothing else in the world.
Dad and Mum thought it was a cute hobby, a great curriculum to get her to socialise during school.
It was more than that to Rose.
The group on stage finished, and Rose’s name was called. A jolt of panic, before half jogging half tittering to meet the stage director. This was just a rehearsal, get a grip. The empty chairs looked back at her, hollow and indifferent. For a brief moment, she froze. The overwhelming sensation of being exposed filled her, the emptiness of the auditorium magnifying the pressure.
All alone? You want to do this alone? Her mother had asked, doubtful. Are you sure this is what you want?
Standing in the spotlight felt like losing her balance on the edge of a cliff. Her feet faltered as she moved toward the centre of the stage, where the lights felt harsher, almost too bright. A stagehand's voice cut through the air, "Rose Weasley, are we ready?"
She nodded. Shaking off the wave of anxiety. She forced her eyes away from the empty seats and instead focused on the lights above—warm, bright, and colourful. Her fingers curled tightly around the microphone, her breathing calmed as she drew in the air. Slowly, she corrected her stance, grounding herself on the stage, letting the vibrations of the space fill her bones.
The silence hung in the air for only a second longer before she began to sing. The notes spilt out, tentative at first, but quickly gaining strength like a river finding its course. Her voice soared through the empty room, filling the space, her own melody of hope, fear, and longing. Half closing her eyes, she loosed herself to the music and imagined this was her chance.
These days, I'm way too lonely
I'm missing out, I know
These days, I'm way too alone
And I'm known for giving love away, but
I want...
Rose’s heart was still beating a bit too fast. She puts the mic back on the stand and makes a hasty bow before she retreats and takes a seat among the other contestants, her mind replaying every detail of her performance. There had been a few claps from the staff, some encouraging cheers from the other contestants, and she’d given them a small, grateful smile. But now, in the aftermath, all she could focus on were the flaws. The missed glance at the camera, the slight tremor in her voice during the opening verse, and that near stumble near the end of the song— amplified in her mind until they echoed louder than her success.
The stage manager's voice droned on, reiterating logistics and a recap of the day for the contestants to remember. Rose’s attention drifted. She unwrapped a plastic burrito from her bag, the familiar scent offering comfort as she took her first bite. Performing always built her appetite, the burrito felt like a warm, grounding weight in her hands, anchoring her away from her strangled thoughts.
She cast a quick glance around the room, observing the other contestants. Some were gathered in clusters—duets or bands exchanging quiet encouragements and proud smiles. Others, like her, were solo acts. They sat scattered, surrounded by friends and family who offered reassurances and easy support. Mad Roskar, a punk singer with a permanent scowl etched onto his face, was by himself because even his own bandmates seemed to keep a cautious distance. Rose supposed she was lucky she didn’t have a reputation like his, but the sight of everyone else with their support systems made her stomach clench.
She took another bite, chewing through the pang that rang through her chest.
Rose could still hear her mother’s careful suggestions: “You have seven Outstandings in your NEWTs, Rose,” “Have you thought about a short internship, just to keep your options open?” “Remember when you used to be so curious about Charms research?”
Research? No, Mum, that was you.
But words like those never came easily. She wasn’t like her dad, who would blurt out whatever crossed his mind. For Rose, it was always harder to voice the things that mattered, especially when it felt like nobody truly listened. Dad was busy with his Auror work, he listened but he also... had a hard time understanding. Singing is a nice hobby, he'd say. Mum wanted to understand but speaking to her was sometimes exhausting, every time Rose said something she would have ten other things to say in return.
Have you seriously thought about the lifestyle you're committing to? The amount of work? The type of family and future you'd have? Are you fine with spending years doing such repetitive work? Try and rationalise darling, you can still sing even if you do something else.
Her mum was Hermione Granger-Weasley, after all—the infamous Unspeakable and the visionary behind the breakthrough in soulmate magic. She had revolutionized wizarding society, bringing a new era of hope and connection. Her dad practically beamed with pride, and now, as Deputy Auror, he never missed a chance to boast about her mum’s accomplishments.
At least Hugo gave them what they wanted.
Last Rose heard, her younger brother, freshly graduated from Hogwarts was interning with the Ministry in International Magical Sports. Even though their mum would occasionally blame Dad’s “obsession with Quidditch” for Hugo’s chosen field it was still the Ministry- magic, what was expected. But Rose? She’d walked away from it all to chase a dream in the Muggle world, a dream to sing.
"You want to sing as a job?" Dad asked, bewildered as if truly caught off guard. "You mean at the weddings and the pub?"
"No Dad, like producing music, perform in front of millions of people,"
The Wizarding World was too small of an audience, and music was the type of magic that even muggles could appreciate.
So she left.
After she took her last bite, she crumpled the aluminium foil, the sound crisp in the quiet around her. She brushed the crumbs from her hands. This was her world now, and she was determined to make it her own—even if she had to do it alone.
Look, you know it's harder to find in these times
But I got nothing but love on my mind (my mind)
I need a baby with love in my prime
Need an adversary to my "down and weary"
All the contestants had finished rehearsing and now it was for the paid performance. As Rose was gathering her things, the delicate chords of a piano filled the backstage. Wow, whoever was playing was pretty talented. The others were gathering to sneak a peak too. Rose reluctantly followed, glad she didn't have to compete with a pro.
She had to tiptoe over a few people to see the stage. He finally saw him, leaning over the piano, fingers gliding across the keys in practiced grace. —blond hair catching the light, wearing a navy blue turtleneck that emphasized his fair skin.
Her breath hitched. She recognised him. Scorpius.
Scorpius Malfoy-Potter was playing the closing piece for the show. She hadn’t seen him in years—not since she left Hogwarts. The last she’d heard from Hugo, he was applying for Julliard. She had envied his supportive parents who were proud of his ambitions.
She hadn’t expected him here.
These days, I'm way too lonely
I'm missing out, I know
These days, I'm way too alone
And I'm known for giving love away, but
I want...
Scorpius’s fingers danced over the piano keys, his body moving in time with the rhythmic rise and fall of the music. He arranged the piece himself. He was talented, yes, but Julliard was a daunting prospect. He had taken piano lessons since he was four and had kept a tutor from Julliard all throughout his years at Hogwarts. He wanted some time to figure out his craft without the intervention of a rigid curriculum. He wanted a challenge.
His fathers had encouraged him to branch out, to take on a few bookings where he could showcase his unique fusion of old and new, of muggle and magic style. Today’s booking was a rehearsal gig for a singing competition. He was the closing act—a small chance to perform an original piece.
As his eyes swept over the small audience, his heart skipped a beat. Standing in the shadows, half-hidden but unmistakable, blue eyes and long curly red hair. His fingers faltered for a split second, a slight tremor in his otherwise steady performance.
Rose. The girl he’d admired, pathetically pined for, since he was fifteen. She’d left Hogwarts when he was still in sixth year, but he’d never quite shaken his feelings. To have her here of all places! Dreams do come true don't they? With her long, fiery red hair and her fierce, confident presence, she’d always been a vision of boldness and ambition, a stark contrast to his own quiet reserve.
When Rose left school to pursue her dreams in the Muggle world, something inside him had shifted. He’d wanted to take his own passion seriously too, to be more than just the “Malfoy and Potter heir” playing around with music. he wanted to make a name for himself in his image.
His dad, Harry and his poppa, Draco had only been supportive.
"Make your own mistakes, take your own adventures, just tell us all about it."
Harry and Draco, who were always a little too perceptive, (that's what you get for an Auror dad and a gossipy poppa) knew about his feelings for Rose and have always urged him to act on it. Scorpius was always too nervous, he never thought he had a chance. They’d promised to keep his secret, though Draco had often teased him about his “unrequited love.”
As he played, Scorpius stole glances at Rose. She was listening, her expression unreadable, his excitement slowly curled into self-doubt.
Do you remember me?
She was just as beautiful as he remembered—if not more so—with that fire-red hair cascading down her shoulders and a bright that seemed to make the whole world fade into the background.
Finally, the last note lingered in the air, and the small audience offered polite applause. Scorpius stood, giving a slight nod.
This is it, this is it. If Fate had anything to do with this, Scorpoius wasn't about to ignore it. He took a breath to steady himself before approaching her. She didn't run away, which was a good sign. He nodded at others and thanked them for their kind words and managed a small, awkward smile, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Rose… hey.” His voice sounded more timid than he’d intended, but he kept his gaze steady. Damn, she's so pretty.
A brief flicker of surprise crossed her face before she smoothed it over, her polite smile returning. “Scorpius. Didn’t expect to see you here,”
"I didn't know you were performing,"
"Competing actually,"
"Oh," He brightened, "Well then I'll cheer you on."
"Thank you." Her tone was a bit detached, she didn't even offer a handshake. "You were good, just now, I mean you've always been talented."
He swallowed. She’d never given him much attention before, and hearing that little compliment was enough to send him to the moon.
"Would you like to grab a drink, or err a bite?"
"I just ate actually," She showed a crumpled aluminium foil. "And I should probably rest, prepare for the competition you know?"
His stomach fell, well... they weren't close in school and Scorpius had always found it difficult to close the divide between them. He forced a small nod, the ghost of a smile still clinging to his lips.
“Well, it was… nice seeing you,”
Next time, next time he'll be more prepared. Rose was a pop star now, he had to show her he was no longer the bumbling clumsy boy in school.
Maybe I'll get her roses for her next performance.
The energy in the auditorium was electric, the seats filled to capacity with eager spectators cheering and applauding for each new act. Backstage, Rose stood with her heart pounding, her makeup flawless, her hair carefully styled in a half-up, half-down look that framed her face elegantly. Her cape hung from her shoulders, adding a touch of drama and flair. Her manicured nails gleamed a polished pink that matched the natural flush of her cheeks.
She hoped this was the look that would be plastered all over the news later when they announced her win.
Her head buzzed with anticipation, rehearsing her lines in her head, her eyes spying for blond hair.
The sight of him yesterday had not been great for her concentration. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him; it was that he reminded her of everything she was trying to leave behind.
Why did he have to appear now of all times?
He's also fucking cute. But that's beside the point, he's her brother's best mate, they never, no, Rose never saw him that way.
But...
He was no longer the small boy who eagerly trailed around with Hugo, he was tall, with green eyes that shone kindly it made her heart flutter.
No, focus!
Someone handed her a bouquet of roses, vibrant in shades of red, yellow, pink, and white. She managed a grateful smile, thanking them, but the anxiety and the stress made her slightly dizzy. The bouquet felt heavy in her hands. She knew she shouldn't hope too much, many singers try out for an audition and don't make it, but... she just felt like she had to do something to change her future. To help settle her fiesty unsatisfied soul.
“Rose Weasley, you’re up,” a voice called.
She took a deep breath, setting down the bouquet as she moved toward the stage. The anticipation swelled within her, her heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the song she’d prepared. This was it.
Standing under the stage lights, her gaze swept over the judges and the audience. She forced herself to block it all out, centring on the melody inside her. The opening notes echoed in her mind. When she started her voice quivered. then her voice steadied once she got her rhythm, cresting and falling like waves on an open shore. Every emotion she’d bottled up, every hope and fear, was woven into the music that spilt from her lips.
With each passing second, she felt more alive, more real. This was her voice, her stage, her dream—finally within reach.
As the final note faded, the silence held for a breath before the audience erupted. Applause thundered around her, many in the audience rising to their feet, their faces a blur of admiration and warmth. I did it! I sang on stage! Rose’s heart soared, and she felt a thrill of happiness, but as she turned away from the stage, a strange heaviness settled in her chest, one she couldn’t shake. She wanted to cry and didn’t fully understand why.
Bowing slightly at the other contestants and apologising for her apparent rush, she ran to the dressing room. Thankfully she was alone and she allowed herself to sink onto the chair, her hands trembling. The excitement, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense that everything she’d worked for was balancing on this one performance—it all washed over her, too much to contain. Tears gushed out like pitfalls of water, ruining her mascara.
I did it. I sang. I gave them everything. But why was she crying?
A soft knock sounded on the door. Rose quickly wiped her tears, gathering herself as best as she could. She looked up just as the door cracked open, revealing a familiar face framed with blond hair and a soft, hesitant smile.
“Scorpius?”