Year 1
Rose Weasley did not want to be on the train. The feeling came suddenly, as though it had been lying dormant for a very long time and abruptly decided to rear its ugly head. She wasn’t usually the type of person who yearned for home or cried for her mother, but as the train doors closed, Rose felt as though she had left her entire childhood behind and was now embarking on a new, terrifyingly unknown path. Hogwarts, once glorified in her mind, felt dreadfully far away from home.
It was her cousin, Albus, who broke the uncomfortable silence. “We should find a compartment.” Rose nodded, letting Albus tentatively lead the way. It was times like these when she wished at least one of them wasn’t quite so shy.
Albus stopped in front of a door, leaning closer and staring through the glass. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he whispered, “I think James is in this one!” Rose breathed a sigh of relief ” James, obnoxious as he was, could be somewhat of a comfort on rare occasions ” and slid open the door. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t. Her older cousin was surrounded by strangers, smiling and seeming quite at ease. He glanced up sharply when the door opened, and suddenly his grin was gone.
“Who’s that?” a thin, freckled girl asked, giggling. James’s face reddened as he struggled to regain his composure.
“Hey, little brother,” he said, his lightheartedness slowly returning. “Good job finding your way inside the train.” He glanced around the room quickly. “There might be space for you, if we squash ourselves together…” James added, even though there was obviously not enough room for everyone.
“Oh…er, that’s fine. Rosie and I were just…” Albus was now the one blushing. His brother nodded vehemently. “See you at Hogwarts,” he finished lamely, pivoting and nearly yanking Rose out of the compartment and down the hall.
“This one’s empty,” he breathed, after peering through the blurred glass.
It wasn’t empty. A skinny, blond-haired boy lounged across a seat, flipping idly through a book; Rose thought he looked vaguely familiar. He sat up quickly when he saw them enter.
“Want to sit here?” he asked. “My name’s Scorpius ” Scorpius Malfoy.”
Something clicked inside Rose’s brain. Malfoy, the name they’d heard spoken with such distaste. Malfoy, as in Draco Malfoy. The antagonist of the many stories Rosie had listened to in awe. This was the son of the man her father hated.
*Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie.
“Rose?” Albus said hesitantly, his eyes searching hers for approval. She was too busy staring at Scorpius to notice.
*Don’t get too friendly with him, though, Rosie.
They were fated to be enemies, just as their parents had been. Rose could see already how alike Scorpius was to his father: the pointed, defined chin, and small, pouting mouth.
“No thank you, Malfoy,” she answered coldly. Turning to Albus, she added, “Let’s find somewhere else.”
Her heart twitched as she saw the animation on Scorpius’s face disappear, replaced by a resigned disappointment. Still, she did not turn back.
Year 3
She clutched the form tightly in her hands, until her knuckles were bloodless, as if afraid that by loosening her grip even a little the paper would slip away.
“Your Hogsmeade form, Miss Weasley,” Professor Vector said impatiently, grabbing the form out of Rose’s hands. Her eyes slid over it, and with a quick nod she motioned for Rose to stand with her friends in the group of Hogsmeade attendees.
“Honeydukes first,” her friend Ella reminded her matter-of-factly. “And maybe we can go to your uncle’s shop, Rose. Even if it isn’t as nice as the one in Diagon Alley.”
“And then the Three Broomsticks,” Rose added excitedly, marveling at how large the world seemed to have gotten in a few moments. She waited impatiently with her fellow Gryffindors as Professor Vector collected the rest of the slips. The sky was a smoky grey, and rain threatened to fall as mercilessly as it had for the past week. The dreary weather didn’t bother Rose ” nothing, it seemed, could mar this monumental day.
“Third-years, follow me,” the deputy headmistress ordered, after what seemed like years of waiting.
“Rose!” Ella hissed, linking her arm with Rose’s. “Look to your right. No, not now! Okay, look over there. Be casual.” Rose stole a glance out of the corner of her eye, and thought her heart had stopped for a moment.
“It’s Eric Holtz,” she whispered back, squeezing her friend’s arm giddily. “The fourth-year.”
Ella rolled her eyes and smiled good-naturedly. “I know, Rose. Look, he’s walking alone for once. I think you should go say hi.”
“No!”
“Yes! Rose, he’s not that much older than you.”
“Nine months and twelve days,” Rose murmured, her voice fading so neatly into the cold air she doubted that Ella heard her.
“Go. Invite him to the Three Broomsticks with us. Or just talk to him. Either way, get your arse over there.” Ella gave her a helpful shove in the right direction. Rose raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help grinning after Ella gave a particularly conspicuous wink.
Rose strayed from the group of third-years, keeping a wary eye on Professor Vector. She saw Eric look at her as she approached, and couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth in a straight line.
“Eric,” she began, trying to keep her voice casual, when suddenly the front of her boot came in contact with a patch of especially slippery mud. Her arms flailed wildly for some invisible support as her legs curled beneath her. Rose fell face-first into the mud, getting a nose and mouthful of the stuff. Her wrist throbbed terribly; sometime during the fall it ended up underneath her. She rose unsteadily to a sitting position, flustered as she saw Eric suppressing laughter.
Ordinarily, Rose could have laughed this off. It was comical, she knew, to see someone caked in mud, especially in a fall as dramatic as hers. But in that moment, as she looked into Eric Holtz’s eyes, she saw no kindness. This wasn’t a mutual joke in his mind; it was Rose Weasley, the clumsy idiot. The tears stung until she let them fall, marking intricate designs across her cheekbones. She sat, huddled in the sopping wet mud, until Eric and his friends were out of sight.
“Rose, are you okay?”
Startled, Rose shifted her eyes upward, meeting the gaze of Scorpius Malfoy. Her face hardened.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”
“I had some trouble with my permission slip,” he answered absently, his voice losing most of the warmth it had before. “Would you like a hand?”
Rose hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking her head vehemently. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” She felt his eyes on her as she tried to support herself with her muddy hands and slowly rose up. Her foot slipped, and Scorpius grabbed her elbow reflexively. His look was kind as he steadied her, in such a sharp contrast to Eric’s malicious stare that Rose was momentarily taken aback. Embarrassed, and realising she had been looking at him that entire time, Rose busied herself with tidying up her robes.
“See you later,” Scorpius muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
“Wait,” Rose called after him, years of guilt finally catching up to her. “Thank you.”
Year 5
It seemed to Rose that all the luck in her family was given to her mum and dad when they were her age. They rode dragons, helped in the rebellion against Voldemort, and came out relatively unscathed. They were able to fall in love easily, without the messy heartache of it all (or so she’d heard). And here Rose was, fifteen years old, cursed by the most rotten luck in the world: Scorpius Malfoy was infesting her thoughts every day. She wasn’t in love with him ” not by a long shot ” but somehow seeing him and Sarah walking the halls together, holding hands as if they needed to proclaim to the world they were together, made her uncontrollably angry. She hadn’t had a lot of interaction with him since their third- year, so, she reasoned, there was no reason for Scorpius to invade her mind like that. But invade he did.
Worse yet, Rose was sure Scorpius knew, and was making all the wrong conclusions ” he seemed unable to stop the smirk that crept across his face every time he saw her.
It was for these reasons that Rose justified going to Hogsmeade with Robert McDougal. He was a Muggle-born known for the wiry metal that ran across his teeth ” braces, as Rose’s grandmother called them. He’d taken her by surprise with his request, and at the precise moment Sarah had given a particularly obnoxious giggle.
“Rose? Will you go with me?” Robert repeated, drawing her gaze back to his freckled face.
“Go…oh!” she gasped. She took in his pale face, and beady dark eyes before nodding. “Of course.” Rose began to regret her decision a moment later, when Robert’s smile revealed mossy, yellowed teeth behind the cluttered metal. Oh, well, she thought. It isn’t as though I give a damn about Malfoy, anyway.
“Really, Weasley? McDougal?”
Sometimes she wondered just how transparent her thoughts were.
“I don’t really think you have the right to judge so harshly, Malfoy,” Rose retorted, eyeing Sarah significantly.
Scorpius held both his hands up. “Don’t get too worked up, I was only joking. People are going to start to think you’re jealous.” Jealous. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“What happened to the nice Malfoy from two years ago?” She asked sarcastically. “Or maybe he didn’t really exist.”
A weird expression shot across Scorpius’s face; his grey eyes grew clouded and his mouth seemed to turn slightly down at the corners. He looked almost…guilty.
That look wouldn’t leave her thoughts as she walked down the path, holding Robert’s uncomfortably sweaty hand.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, just to pierce the awkward silence between them.
Robert shrugged placidly. “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know…” She ran her eyes down the row of shops. “Madam Puddifoot’s?”
“Wherever you want.” His words were said kindly, but Rose couldn’t help feeling that something was off.
“Or…we don’t have to go there.” She wondered why she was working so hard to keep him pacified.
Robert shook his head almost immediately. “No, we can.” His face was unreadable, and after a few moments Rose gave up.
“All right, then,” she muttered, barely hiding her relief when he dropped her hand to open the shop door.
Instantly, Rose wished she hadn’t chosen the place. The only open seats were tiny, cosy booths, surrounded by intimately kissing couples. As much as this weakened her own resolve, it seemed to strengthen Robert’s. He picked the booth closest to the corner, and ordered the two of them mint teas. Rose was so disoriented that she forgot to tell him she found that tea repulsive. She didn’t bother to hide her dismay as Robert slid in next to her in the booth, taking her hand in his again.
“Rose,” he said tentatively, a blotchy red blush spreading across his pallid cheeks.
She sighed, trying to focus on something else besides his closeness. “Yes?”
He leaned closer. “I really, really…” his lips were now merely a breath away, “…like you.” Their lips touched. Rose’s eyes widened in horror as she worked on keeping her mouth firmly shut. Robert’s lips were chapped and coarse and felt uncomfortably rough against her own. She found herself mentally counting the seconds until he finally pulled away, grinning to himself.
“I need to go to the loo,” Rose said loudly, realising she was being quite rude. Robert didn’t seem to mind; the stupid smile would not leave his face.
In the bathroom, she scrubbed at her lips until she could feel the sting of new skin. Satisfied, she spat one more time in the sink, and watched the last of Robert’s lingering kiss rush down the drain.
Her first kiss, she decided, had been an absolute disaster. And what was worse, she realised her last thought before Robert’s lips drew away from hers had been of Scorpius, and how his lips would be so much nicer to kiss.
Year 6
Her father, when he heard, had been beside himself with annoyance. How could a Malfoy have beaten Rose Weasley as president of the Charms Club? His irritation was nothing compared to Rose’s. For weeks, she had carefully prepared her campaign so that everything was perfect, and she fully expected to win. After all, the Charms Club was mostly comprised of her friends, and each had thoroughly assured her that they would vote for her.
Then Scorpius, who had only joined the club a month ago, announced he was running for president as well. And as he was the best-looking boy out of the five boys in the club, nearly all the girls had voted for him. Professor Flitwick had not disclosed the results of the tally, but Rose knew they were drastically in Scorpius’s favour.
“Next time, Weasley,” Scorpius said, grinning in a way that only made her angrier. She wondered how it was possible that this same boy was the one who made her heart beat unnaturally fast whenever he was near.
“I hope you know,” she spat, “that there is only one reason you’re president and I’m not. And that’s because the Charms Club is made up mostly of girls.”
“And why should that make such a difference?” he asked, a bit too innocently. She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.
“Because you’re a stupid Slytherin, that’s why.”
He laughed. “I wish you played Quidditch, Weasley. It’s so much fun competing against you.”
“I wish I played Quidditch, too. I’d be a Beater and knock you off your broom.”
“Of course you would.” He gave her a sideways glance, studying her expression. “I hope you’re not emotionally scarred from losing to me.”
Rose considered for a moment. “No, but I’m not happy with you. Did you just do this so you could beat me and gloat about it?”
“No,” he answered seriously. “I did it for the same reason I joined this club in the first place.”
“To kiss up to Flitwick?” she scoffed.
“To kiss up to you.” His voice, so full of honesty, made her blush.
“Oh,” she said stupidly, unable to think as she realised his nose was nearly touching hers. She closed her eyes. His lips were soft and warm and felt wonderful to kiss. Yet there was something bittersweet about it, a tinge of something that made the kiss imperfect. It was a few moments after Scorpius drew away and Rose’s head stopped spinning that she realised what it was: guilt. She wondered how her father would feel about her kissing a Malfoy. She wondered if she had committed an act that, in her late Grandfather’s eyes, would be unforgivable.
“Rose?” Scorpius asked nervously, looking as though he thought she might hit him. She wondered how she could keep everyone happy.
Drawing nearer, Rose breathed the answer into his ear. “Let’s keep this a secret.”
Year 7
She stared at him, almost wanting to laugh from disbelief.
“Rose,” he said quietly. His eyes were lined with concern. “Rosie, are you okay?”
She ignored his last question. “Why the hell are you springing this on me now, Scorpius? What did I do to deserve this?”
“This isn’t an issue. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
“You think you have the power to give me a fucking ultimatum like that?” Her eyes stung as she grasped for excuses. “I never meant anything to you, did I?”
Scorpius’s mouth tightened, showing the first signs of anger. “I think I have the right to know what’s going on here, Rose.”
Rose blinked rapidly. “Nothing is wrong! Why can’t we just go back to the way things were?” His sharp, cold laugh cut her off midway.
“A quick snog in a deserted hallway? The rare feel-up in an empty classroom?” He scoffed. “How can you say that nothing is wrong with this?”
“What do you want from me, Scorpius? What are you trying to do?”
“Merlin’s arse, Rose! All I’m asking is that you tell your family about us”you act as though I’ve killed someone!”
“Oh, silly me, that was just your father, wasn’t it?” She wanted to hurt him. She wanted his blood to boil and his forehead to throb with frustration, as hers was now. At least, that was what she thought she wanted, until she saw his eyes widen from the sting of the insult. Neither of them spoke for a few moments; Rose kept her eyes turned away, watching an ant scuttle across the table, pretending that she couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze on her face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and slow. “What I want is a relationship, Rose. No more of these secret meetings.”
She pictured herself with Scorpius, as his girlfriend, and the thought didn’t sound nearly as horrible as it once did. But the girl she saw with Scorpius, the Rose Weasley that was confident in herself and didn’t feel the need to live up to her family…wasn’t her. She had delved too deep in this abyss of secrets and lies; it was impossible to resurface.
She turned her eyes away. “No, thank you, Malfoy.”
And for the second time in her life, she walked away from Scorpius Malfoy.
One Year Later
“Rose?” Loud footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Rose, are you awake?”
Rose rubbed her eyes tiredly, turning over to face the doorway. “I am now, Mum.”
Her mum opened the door without preamble. “I was going through your old Hogwarts things…”
Rose sat upright. “You were going through my things?” Hermione raised her eyebrows sternly.
“As long as you are living under my roof, I will go through your things and decide what is going into the rubbish bin.”
“I’m studying to be a Cursebreaker, Mum. I don’t have any money for my own flat; it’s either here or the streets.”
“Then be grateful it’s here,” Hermione said with a tone of finality. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a piece of parchment from her pocket and smoothed it out in front of her daughter. “Would you mind telling me about this?”
The only brightness in the room came from the bright grey fog shining through the window. Rose squinted to read the writing on the letter, feeling her heart sink after she read the first line. She knew who had written this. She even remembered receiving the letter on one of the last days of Hogwarts. She had not read it then, but stowed it away in her bag, as if by burying it under her books and assignments she would make it disappear.
Rose, it read.
I miss you. I realise that may not mean much to you anymore, but I wish it did. I can’t say I’d be willing to go back to that day and change what I said, because everything is true. We could never have lived like that, because I cared about you too much. And with a love so one-sided, I think we were right to break it off.
I remember all those years ago when you walked into my compartment on the Hogwarts Express. You left me sitting there, alone, but you wanted to turn back. I saw the same expression on your face last March, and that is the reason I’m writing to you. I know my father was a right bastard, and your father has never let go of his hate. But we aren’t our fathers, Rosie (especially seeing as you’re a girl). We can’t fix the past by continuing their hate into the future.
Love, Scorpius.
“It’s a love letter,” Rose finally answered, choking on tears she hadn’t known were there.
“I realised that much,” her mother replied, though her voice lacked sarcasm.
“It’s from Scorpius Malfoy,” Rose went on, as though she could fix everything by explaining. “He gave it to my friend Ella on May thirty-first and made her promise she would make me read it. I told her I did.” She sped up her words, racing against the tears that threatened to fall.
“Rose…”
“I lied to her! I lied to Ella, and I lied to Scorpius, and they bought it. The only person who never believed my lies was me.”
“Rose.”
“I miss him! Every single day, I think of Scorpius and I wish I wasn’t me.” Finally finished, Rose let her tears fall. Hermione put an arm over her daughter’s shoulder.
“Rose,” she said quietly. “Your father will always love you, no matter who you fall in love with. We grew up fighting too hard against a world of hate to succumb to it now.”
“I didn’t realise it soon enough,” Rose said thickly. “And it’s too late now. He’s probably got a girlfriend.”
“Maybe.” Hermione paused. “Or maybe he’s still waiting for you.”
His hair was longer, and faint stubble shadowed his cheeks. His eyes were unchanged, though, still clear and a bitingly crisp blue. Rose had never pictured him as a Healer, but seeing him in the pale blue robes, attending to patients, made it seem like this was the perfect job for him.
He hadn’t noticed her yet, but Rose was fine with that. Her eyes were fixated on him, watching as he spoke in a gentle tone to the old woman lying on the bed. His left hand performed intricate movements over the woman, as though it was reflex to cast the spells that would save her.
Rose held her breath as he turned away from the woman. She had told herself to keep her thoughts pessimistic so she wouldn’t be disappointed, but she couldn’t stop the twinge of hope she felt as he slowly raised his gaze.
“Rose,” he said, his mouth forming the words slowly and carefully. With a quick glance at the old woman, he walked towards Rose. Her heart picked up speed. She realised he was still wearing the same cologne he used to wear, and the thought made her smile.
“Scorpius.” The name slid through her teeth in one breath. He was so near, and she longed for the closeness she hadn’t had in a long time. “I got your note.”
His eyebrows rose as he stopped a few paces in front of her. “What note?”
“The note you sent me at the end of our seventh year.” Her mouth felt very dry. “I wanted to tell you that I miss you.”
Something in his eyes changed. “You miss me?”
Rose nodded, wondering if it was possible for her throat to spontaneously close up. “And by that, I also mean that I kind of love you.”
“Kind of?”
“A lot,” she admitted. It was then that she realised he hadn’t moved. Something looked different about him, something that made her wish she never entered St. Mungo’s. “I came a bit late, didn’t I?” she added lightly, ignoring the buzzing in her brain.
Scorpius glanced at the patient beside him, who seemed to be deep in sleep. “No. You didn’t.” This time, when his lips met hers, the sour taste of guilt was gone. The world around them melted away. The mistakes Rose had made did not disappear, but they did not seem to matter anymore, either. All that she knew was that she was there with Scorpius, and his kiss was the most perfect thing she had ever tasted. She let her mind fill with hope for the future as their hands entwined.