Basically, I re-read Caring is Creepy and starting wondering about Lily's shitty position throughout the entire story. And then I decided to write from her perspective; how she experienced the whole thing. It's going to be a three-piece story.

I know most of you love Rose/Scorpius, and I do too, but I still hope you're interested in my take on Lily as well!

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended. All recognisable characters/scenery belongs to J.K. Rowling.

SAUDADE

01: HOGWARTS

The first time I saw Scorpius Malfoy, I was eleven and green and idiotic and naive.

It was my third day at Hogwarts and I had to pay a visit to the library (for a very specific reason, probably, seeing as I didn't read books back then, and I don't read books now). I was surrounded by likeminded souls – girls who had not really hit puberty yet, but still had enough wits about them to spot a boy of interest when he popped up.

And spotting Scorpius we did.

I wasn't the first to pay attention to him. At first I just noticed Rose, who was standing with her back towards us and was whispering ferociously to the boy who was standing next to her, leaning against the bookcase. It was only when I called out her name and the both of them looked up, that I met Scorpius's eye. The nervous laughter in my ear and the elbow planted in my ribcase effectively told me that whatever I thought of this bloke, my friends were in complete and utter agreement.

"Hey Lils," Rose said pleasantly. "Need help with something?"

Because, of course, the library was her sanctuary.

I did need help, really. But I didn't want to let that on, because Rose always knew everything and at that moment – with my new friends, and with Scorpius standing there, a picture of total disinterest – I didn't want to put myself in the position where I naturally belonged: at the bottom of Rose's tower of gigantic intellect. Rose always told people what to do, and Rose always knew better. So, throwing a subtle glance at Scorpius (who obviously couldn't wait until we would leave so he could resume his discussion with her), I kindly declined her offer.

She shrugged, "Okay, well, see you later?"

I nodded and smiled brightly at the two of them.

Rose smiled back. Scorpius didn't and ostentatively opened his book.

We left the library immediately (empty-handed), in a whirlwind of giggles and gossip. My friends and I came to a quick consensus: Scorpius was 'really cute but a bit unfriendly', Rose was 'like, so cool', and we couldn't wait until we were second-years.

Only one third of those opinions turned out to be sensible.

"You're Rose's cousin, right?"

These were Scorpius's infamous first words directed at me, spoken in the first month of my third year.

"Um," I said (stupidly, unsmoothly), "yes."

He looked me up and down rather condescendingly and asked, "Do you know where she is?"

"No," I replied curtly.

Be cool, I told myself. Be cool. I wanted to take some of his coolnes and transfer it right back to me. I wanted to be the coolest girl on the planet. I was about to turn fourteen and it was time for me to get along with the older crowd and not stammer every time one of them talked to me – even if that person was kind of a wanker.

"Okay," he drawled.

And then he left.

Obviously, he wasn't impressed with my coolness yet.

Eventually, though, Scorpius became nice to me. Rose and I were on good terms, he and Rose were on permanently excellent terms, and, well, I guess he figured that I wasn't some freak or particularly stupid. As I grew into my looks (which happened gradually throughout that year), I joined the Cult of the Popular, saw him at parties and small get-togethers, talked to him when we crossed each other in the hallways. We weren't friends, but I suppose that Scorpius, aside from Rose and Louis, had no real friends. I used to think he was like a ghost sometimes, like you couldn't really touch him. He did things – I mean, he was there, physically – but he seemed distant, as per habit. The older he became, the better he learned to mask it – and then he became this terribly charming bastard everyone fell in love with even more, although he never deserved it.

(The thing about Scorpius is, he doesn't really change. Like I grew into my looks, he grew into his self-created persona. Underneath that persona, however, he is unmoving. Stable in his interests, stable in his activities, stable in his being. I tried to make some alterations, but as that happens with silly teenage notions, this blew up in my face.)

I wasn't in love with him, really. That's too big of an expression. But I admit: I was one of those girls who still giggled about Scorpius when I was sixteen, and I secretly wished for him to ask me out to Hogsmeade – he'd asked several of my friends, it wasn't impossible – and my smile widened every time I ran into him.

It was a crush.

Innocent and stupid.

"O-M-G. Did you hear?"

My fourteen-year-old self was very accessible to these kind of conversation-openers. I therefore halted in the middle of my movement – let my spoon full of food hover in the air – and immediately rose to the bait.

"No, what, tell me now, this very instant?"

Telia Abercrombie settled down next to me on the bench and excitedly elaborted, "I heard that Rose and Scorpius had S-E-X."

I gasped loudly. "What? When?"

"Two days ago, after the party," Telia proclaimed. "Your brother's party."

"Wow, they really did it?"

"Yup!" Hastily, she added, "I don't think they're, like, a proper couple though. I also heard she's going out with Sebastian Nott next Saturday."

"Wow," I repeated. "Wow."

She gave me a meaningful look.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

I glanced over at the Slytherin table, but Scorpius was nowhere to be seen. I did find Rose, however, sitting at the middle of the Ravenclaw table, ten of her housemates listening to the story she was telling. Louis's arm was leaning on her shoulder and I could hear his laughter rippling through the Great Hall.

"I guess we all saw that coming," I commented, getting back to my breakfast.

Telia grinned, "Scorpius is so much cuter than Sebastian though. I mean, seriously."

I grinned back.

My heart wasn't really in it.

I knew Scorpius was in love with Rose – I knew it for a fact.

In the summer at the end of my fifth year, Hugo had invited me for a non-girly sleepover during which he would give me tips on how to ride a broom properly and I would try to give him a little insight on the works of the female brain. This happened to coincide with a play-date from the next generation's trio, who'd cocked up a tent in the Weasley's yard and had secretly started to brew their own liquor because they had such a hard time buying it elsewhere. My evening had been quite fun, but I had felt the slight dullness of it shining through nevertheless, thanks to Rose, Louis and Scorpius's Obviously Way More Awesome Fun Fest. This continued through the night: I couldn't sleep, because I was bothered by the faint sound of their laughter coming from the yard. After much tossing and turning, I went downstairs, looking for a snack and perhaps some Sleeping Drought.

I found something else.

Like in every true love story, I found Scorpius, with no shirt on, sitting on top of the table, with a musing expression.

"Don't think too hard," I quipped up. "It'll make you look old."

Startled, he looked up. When he recovered from his surprise, he went along, "Yet wise."

I laughed softly. "Couldn't sleep in your tent?"

"Not really."

"Me neither. In my bedroom."

I sat down next to him, took a glass of water, tried not to be distracted by his chest (he played Quidditch). I felt a little nervous, being so close to him, being so alone with him. He smelled of a faded cologne.

"So," I started again, attempting to break the silence, "did you have a nice time today?"

He looked at me pointedly. "Did you?"

"I don't think my evening lived up to yours," I replied honestly.

Silence befell us again. It took him three excruciating minutes to speak up.

"Lily, I – "

But then he stopped, suddenly. Sighed. Looked like he wanted to say something, struggled for a moment, seemed annoyed at his own stammering.

I smiled encouragingly. "Something wrong?"

"No," he replied, quickly. Slipping back into his familiar role, he dead-panned, "Well, except for the fact that people are generally obtuse and my misanthropic feelings tend to choke me everywhere I go."

Now it was my turn to grant him a pointed look.

(Although this was probably largely the truth. Scorpius hates people. It's part of his charm.)

"Okay," he conceded. "Okay. Fair enough."

I dared to touch his arm as a sign of comfort. I did it on impulse, because it's what I would've done with every other person. It felt weird, but he didn't flinch, didn't seem to notice it, even.

"So what's wrong?"

"I – " he frowned slightly, and sighed again. "I only ever told Louis this. And I was drunk."

"Of course," because, really, for boys to share their feelins with each other, a minimum of five Firewhiskeys is required. "I won't tell anyone though." When he didn't seem convinced, I repeated myself, "I know you think I will, but I won't."

I really wanted him to tell me. Not just because I liked gossip, not because I wanted to be in the know. I liked the idea of him telling me stuff he hadn't told anyone else (Louis didn't count – ever), the idea of him letting me in. It made me feel special, included somehow.

"It's the oldest tragedy in the world," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "What is?"

"Unrequited love."

I waited for him to say something else, but nothing came.

It should speak for itself that I was brimming with curiosity. Who oh who could be the lucky girl? Who could've managed to snag Scorpius's non-existing heart and caused him to lose sleep during the night?

"Love, huh," I replied, eventually. "How painstakingly... normal of you."

He groaned, "I know. I fucking know. It's terrible. Next thing you know I'll be brewing Love Potions or some adolescent nonsense."

I chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you won't do that."

"I'd rather jump off the Astronomy Tower."

Scorpius had a thing for hyperboles.

"Great," I said. "Lovely. Did you tell her already?"

He completely caught me off guard by saying, "Yeah, I did."

"Oh?"

"She laughed."

And then, it hit me full force.

There was only one person capable of doing that. The one person I knew that went through life like a volcano – intense and unrelenting, not caring one bit about the damage and devastation she caused. She waltzed through friendships and relationships like she didn't own anybody anything.

(I'm not saying that I never did anything morally reprehensible – I've had my fair share of boyfriends, after all, and not all of them were as well-treated as I'd like them to be – but I do have a fundamental sense of compassion. Rose Weasley, on the other hand, has been terribly unfair to others, because life has simply treated her too well.)

"Dear Merlin," I commented. "Sorry to hear that."

I didn't probe any further. He looked sad – forlorn, even.

As if his confession had hit him full force too.

I brought it up again, a year later.

"What happened with that girl?" I asked, looking into his glassy eyes.

He looked back, not comprehending. "What girl?"

I saw right through him.

Thoughts are welcome! ~Josephinee