Every time Rose Weasley saw Scorpius Malfoy her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was an emotional reaction, not physical arrhythmia; despite Aristotle’s claim that the heart was the seat of human emotion. She and Scorpius had gone together since Easter holiday, two amazing months, and their relationship continued to intensify. She could talk to Scorpius about anything. His sharp wit made her laugh, and his kisses weakened her determination to concentrate on preparing for N.E.W.T.s. She wanted to snog her boyfriend as much as she wanted to revise, something that had never happened before.
Rose was in love, and it had changed her life.
Doubled lessons shared with Slytherins were now her favourites. When timetables conflicted, she arranged to meet Scorpius behind a statue for a quick kiss and hullo if he couldn’t walk her to the next lesson. After dinner, they met in the library if they weren’t patrolling together.
The initial gossip about their relationship had died down. No one paid them much attention anymore. Schoolmates had their own lives and dramas. Even Scorpius’ friends were civil, for the most part.
She was so happy, Rose couldn’t help showing it. She hugged her friends often. She smiled so much Scorpius said she was going to take the Miss Congeniality title from Albus’ Hufflepuff girlfriend, Merry. And she began writing. Not in a diary, although, technically, Lily had called the green dragon-hide bound Christmas gift a “me journal”. What Rose did was to continue a list first begun to record practical information about the boy she intended to bring home for holiday and pass off as her boyfriend.
Rose had owed Scorpius a favour—he’d switched potions when she’d botched hers—and was determined to repay it. Only later did she admit compiling the list was an excuse to get to know him better.
Documentation of favourite colour, food, and books evolved into lengthier and more intimate entries. She wasn’t the kind of girl who told her best mate everything. Some things were too personal. Writing gave Rose an outlet to articulate her feelings and not die of embarrassment.
She carried the journal in her schoolbag during the day and kept it in her trunk at night. She never used the magic lock that came with it. That would mean admitting what she wrote wasn’t a list. And it was. A comprehensive one, certainly, with in-depth perspective on the various topics expounded upon, from Scorpius’ smile to the thrill of playing hide and seek in a dungeon after making the rounds of a night patrol. But it was a list, all the same.
On the last Friday of May, during History of Magic, Rose decided to multitask and add another subject to her journal list in between taking lecture notes. Her new topic was holding hands. After lunch, when she and Scorpius walked from the Great Hall to Binns’ first floor classroom, it struck Rose that a simple clasp of hands represented complex things: affection, comfort, a committed relationship.
Rose’s eagerness to jot down her observations transformed to panic when she couldn’t find the journal.
She set the bag on her lap and did a thorough search. No luck. She pulled everything out and stacked it on the table.
Beside her, Albus whispered, “Put that stuff up, Rosie. Binns is coming this way!”
“Miss Weasley, is there a problem?” Professor Binns’ ghostly tones rang with concern.
“I can’t find my extra parchment,” she said. “I need it to make sure I can keep taking notes.” She felt guilty for lying, but telling the truth was out of the question. What if a classmate found the journal and sold it to the Intruder? Some of the entry titles read like Cosmo Teen Witch articles. She would never live down a headline like Ten Kisses That Make Me Melt!
Binns said, “Your studiousness is commendable, although distracting to others. Mr. Potter will allow you to borrow if you are in need, I am sure.”
“Yes, sir.” Rose re-packed her schoolbag.
For the rest of the class period, she tried to figure out where she could have lost the journal. She didn’t write in it before bed the previous night. Mentally retracing her steps, it could be behind one of three statues or on the window seat in the back of the Restricted Section.
Once they were dismissed, she asked Albus, “Will you do me a favour?”
“What is it?”
“On the way to your next class look behind the statue of Fezzik the Faithful for a small book.”
Green eyes sparkled impishly. “What kind of book?”
“A private journal.”
Albus’ expression sobered. “I thought it was love poems.” He patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Rosie. We’ll find it.”
She hurried to check around the statue of Gregory the Smarmy before dashing to meet her boyfriend in the niche behind Bertha the Behemoth. Rose panted for breath as she hugged Scorpius.
He chuckled. “If you were running late, you could’ve gone to class. I—what are you looking at?”
Uh oh. He’d noticed her craning her neck to peer around him. She kissed lips that had inspired multiple journal entries. “We’ll talk later. Bye!” Rose made a hasty retreat.
Arithmancy was her last lesson of the day. After Vector dismissed the class, Rose found Scorpius waiting in the corridor.
His expression was chilly. “I passed Potter on the main staircase. He said your journal wasn’t behind Fezzik.”
Her heart sank. She’d hurt Scorpius’ feelings by confiding in Albus and not him. “Would you me help search the Restricted Section?” she asked softly. “I’ll explain on the way.” She held out her hand.
His fingers entwined with hers added new layers of meaning to holding hands: apology and acceptance.
It took a moment for Rose to spot her dark green journal on the black upholstered window seat. She rushed to pick it up. “Thank God it’s still here.” Light-headed with relief, she plopped down onto the velvet-cushioned bench.
Scorpius sat next to her. “Why didn’t you use the lock?”
“Pride.” She laughed a little. “Self-delusion. I’ve been pretending this is just a list, that I copied what I’d written before into a journal because it’s more convenient and durable.” Rose showed him the first page and then flipped through the journal show how much longer the entries became.
He ran a finger along the words she’d added in silver leaf to the inside of the front cover. “Fascinating Facts About Scorpius Malfoy. I’m flattered.”
“And laughing at how mental I am.”
She shivered when he smoothed her hair back, caressing her cheek as he asked, “Do you think I’m mad to write about you?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “In a journal?”
Scorpius smiled wickedly. “Grandfather Lucius wouldn’t appreciate reading my thoughts in a letter.”
Rose giggled and then asked, “Just your thoughts?”
“And my feelings. My fantasies.” His gaze was hot smoke. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to snog you.”
She unfastened the heart-shaped lock hanging from her journal and put it to its proper use. “Please do,” she said, dropping the journal to move into his arms.
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A/N: I tried my best to give this one shot “legs” in case someone hadn’t read Our Little Secret, the story that inspired this “missing moment.” For readers of the original story, I haven’t forgotten about Rose and Scorpius, and I’m planning another one shot to transition between school and the sequel yet to come. I hope you’ll look forward to it, and tell me you enjoyed this story in a review!