At the beach with sun-kissed skin and your name on my lips.

Chapters 1-4

"Forgive me, Daddy, for I have sinned. I've been a bad girl."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing the urge to sigh. No matter how many times he corrected her, she insisted on beginning every confession the exact same way.

"Rose," he said in as stern a tone as he could muster, despite the fact that the sacrament of confession was meant to be anonymous. He simply could not pretend he didn't know exactly who sat on the other side of the screen. "How many times must we go over this? It's 'forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It's been, however many days, since my last confession.' You know this. You were taught how to properly enter into the sacrament of confession in catechism class."

A girlish giggle sounded from the other side of the confessional. "Sorry, Daddy, I mean Father Draco. I guess that's one more thing to add to my list of sins." She began again, "Forgive me, Father—" she paused here after emphasising the word. "—for I have sinned. It's been a week since my last confession."

He couldn't see her, but somehow he just knew she would be looking up at him through her lashes, big blue eyes wide and innocent, and she twirled one of her thick copper curls around a pale finger.

Rose Weasley may have been a carbon copy of her mother, Hermione, but her colouring was all her father, Ronald's: red hair, bright blue eyes, and milky-white skin dotted with freckles. Both of her parents were his parishioners, attending Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception since before he had gotten his posting here. He and Hermione had both been students here, starting from primary school.

Hermione had been one of his closest childhood friends and playmates growing up. He had many fond memories of their time together as children, always sitting with each other at morning Mass before school, taking First Communion, and then Confirmation together as teenagers, except for a brief period when they had a falling out. They made up, becoming friends once again, a friendship that continued into adulthood.

After graduating, Hermione went off to university in Cambridge, where she met her now husband, while Draco attended seminary school, was ordained, and served at another church before returning to the very parish he had grown up in. That had always been his dream, and the day that he had gotten this assignment was one of the happiest of his life. He had gotten down on his knees in thanks for two straight hours, his fingers still clutching the letter, almost afraid to believe it was real.

That was almost ten years ago, and Draco, now 39 years old, was used to the day-to-day of being the parish priest at Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. Over the years, there had been a handful of young people who had formed crushes on him, usually completely harmless, and faded after a short time.

Read the first four chapters on ao3.