“Well what about that seeker of theirs, Rose Weasley?”

“Nah, Scorp can beat her, right?”

Scorpius didn’t get a chance to reply.

“Well, duh! She’s a girl!”  One of the peppy second-years said.

Scorpius permitted himself a glance over at the Gryffindor table just in time to see Rose glaring at their table, also looking slightly hurt.  He especially noticed that it wasn’t him who she looked at. She never looked at him.

But then something else happened. Two bludgers flew at Rose from behind and with a loud crack; they hit her. She fell from her broom, unconscious. The crowds screamed, the snitch forgotten. She was falling faster and faster, spiraling towards the ground.

And that was really weird, how he acted today! He had saved her in the lake, and then he brushed off all her apologies? Did she do something wrong? When he had touched her elbow in the lake…no, any normal person would’ve done that.

She felt like they had skipped the normal part in a friendship (Hello, how are you, what’s your name, what classes are you taking, etc.) and had skipped right to…right to where?

Rose turned her head to look at him; now that her eyes were adjusted she could make out his profile, highlighted by the stars. She saw the bridge of his nose, his round bottom lip, his square jaw. He turned to look at her, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

“Yes, Rose." Nana Molly said. "Is there anything the matter?”
 
Hmm. Well, honestly, yes. There is something the matter. I think I’ve done something with someone that my parents might possibly disown me for if they ever find out. You know Scorpius Malfoy, the son of your all time enemy? Yeah, well we’re friends now, so we tell each other our deepest insecurities and dance together at balls instead of dancing with our dates.

He had moved away, too far away to touch, which bothered Rose.  She wanted to touch him. Her breathing sounded ragged in her ears. 


His chest was rising and falling too, his hair in wild disarray, his eyes closed tightly. His hands were in fists.


“Oh.” He brought a hand to the back of his neck and looked at her. Ah, he was so beautiful.
 

His jaw was clenched, and she could tell that his hands, resting in his pockets, were curled into fists. Something flashed across his face, a brief moment of vulnerability, uncertainty, regret, and then it was gone, and his eyes had become hard once again.