I own nothing. *kissing the ground at J.K. Rowling's feet*

"Merlin," I say. "How can one person be so bloody prejudiced?"

Albus glares at me. "Look, Rose. He is dangerous. He is a Death Eater."

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "He's not a Death Eater! How many times do I have to tell you this? He. Is. Not. A. Death. Eater."

"Are you kidding me? Open your eyes, Rose. I can't believe you!"

"Seriously, Albus! Just because his father was a Death Eater doesn't mean Scorpius is!" I feel my face grow warmer. Surely Albus can see me blushing. "He is kind, Albus. Don't judge a book by its cover."

"Well, this is different! I think you're the one judging me!" I know this argument is not going to end well for me, as Albus continues, "I just don't understand why you like him so much!"

"Just give him a chance," I say, avoiding his comment.

"He's a Malfoy, Rose! I can't give him a chance!"

"What did he ever do to you?"

"I'm warning you, Rose." Albus's voice becomes scarily calm. "Stay away from Scorpius Malfoy."

I snort. "Or what?"

Albus doesn't answer. He just clenches his fists, scowling at me with a hatred I didn't know he had in him.

Albus and I were best friends up until our first year at Hogwarts, when Scorpius split our lives. I let him sit in our compartment on the train, and Albus left because he couldn't even stand the sight of a Malfoy.

I don't care one bit about his father, that's for sure, and that's one thing Albus is right about. But the children of cruel people are not always cruel. Same for nice people. Sometimes there is a small chance that a heart—like that of Scorpius—is different compared to the rest of his or her family.

But some people just can't look past the obvious, like Albus. He claims that I am the one staring at the outside cover of Scorpius, just because he is so… well… attractive. The truth is that Albus is the one comparing Scorpius to his father.

At least Albus still talks to me. Well, maybe not anymore. I'm guessing that after our last conversation, Albus doesn't want anything to do with me.

But who cares as long as I have kept my secret boyfriend safe for a few days more?

I press the cover of our book lightly, and it slowly changes to a soft shade of blue. Meet me in the Room of Requirement, I write in my smooth cursive writing. I wait for him to respond, walking unnoticed in the direction of the room.

He answers a few minutes later. Okay, he writes, but his writing is shaky.

Scorpius, I write. What's wrong?

He doesn't respond.

I rush to the Room of Requirement as fast as I can.

"Merlin, Scor," I gasp. "What happened to you?" Blood streaks down one side of his face, and he is clearly limping as scarlet liquid drips through his white shirt. I rush over to him, panicked. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Scor, sit down!" A couch appears as needed. I lay him down. "I need to bring Madame Pomfrey right away."

"No… wait," he whispers. My Scorpius is deathly pale.

"Shhhh…" I say. "Rest." I try my best to remain calm.

It looked like speaking took most of the energy out of him. "Albus… I… He…"

"No! He did this to you?" Scorpius takes a deep breath. I press a hand to his forehead. "When I get ahold of him… oh, he's as good as dead."

"NO!" he says with as much force as he can muster.

"What do you mean, no?"

Just as he tries to answer, he goes unconscious. Panicking, I check his pulse. What am I supposed to do? "I'll go get Madame Pomfrey," I mutter under my breath.

Scorpius pulls out of the realm of unconsciousness for just enough time to speak. "Rose…" he rasps. "… no Pomfrey… no Albus hurt…" His usual intelligent sentences are shortened into three word phrases. "… you heal… "

"No, Scor," I say. "I'm not very good. I can't heal you. You could die!"

But then his hand goes limp in mine and I know what I have to do. I have to fetch Madame Pomfrey. There is no way in this world that Scor could survive with my healing abilities. "I'm sorry, Scor…" I whisper to him and then kiss him on his cheek. Blood smears on my face, but that doesn't slow me down, I run as fast as I possibly can to the hospital wing. Once I get there I ask for Madame Pomfrey, but she is not available. Great, I think. I have lost valuable time. As I run back, I realize that I have to heal him myself, without any help.

I had grabbed a few potions on the way back, and mix them together in a goblet that the Room of Requirement gives me.

I tip the contents of the goblet into his mouth and down his throat. His convulsing stops, but he is still unconscious. "Come on, Scor," I mutter, rolling his pant leg up so that I can see the wound properly. "Work with me." I don't know what created the bloody injury on his knee and calf, but it is not normal/ As well as trickling blood out, it is green at the edges, and dark, yellow pus oozes out of the swollen cuts. I thankfully brought back damp towels and rinse out his wounds. He groans. His eyes flutter open and then squeeze shut in pain. "I'm sorry, Scor. I'm so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm doing my best." I clean out the deep cuts, but the blood is still gushing. I rip my robes into pieces and tie strips of cloth around his cuts. I wipe sweat from my forehead and his as I bandage the rest of it up. He tries to speak again, but I shush him. After a while, the wounds were better and I allowed him to tell me the shocking story of his near-death experience.

"I was—" He takes a deep breath. "—going to the common room, when James and Hugo said they had to talk to me. They said it was about you. I thought you were in trouble or something, until they told me to stay away from you. I refused, of course, and they started shooting spells at me. Then Albus showed up. He was angry. Really angry. I've never seen one of your family members that… dark before. He did most of this." He gestures to his leg and winces. Scor lays his head back down, and I comb through his hair with my fingers. We are silent. I tilt my head downward, hair in front of my face so that he won't see me cry. But he does. My shoulders heave forward and loud sobs escape from me. "I can't." I say through tears. "I can't believe him." Scor holds me as my tears fall down onto his robes, onto his shoulder. "Why did you not want me to get back at him for you?" I could barely talk through my sobs.

"I wanted to protect you." His voice was getting stronger.

"You're the one who needs protection!" I couldn't believe how selfless he was being. "What are we going to do?" I ask.

"Just let it pass," he whispers, his eyes travelling over my face. "We have to let it pass."

"So he just gets to hurt you and get away with it?" I inquire, my eyes filling with tears.

"If that's what's necessary."

"Can't we just tell Professor McGonagall—"

"No." Scorpius shakes his head slightly. "You know she'd always take Albus's word over mine. It's a very prejudiced world we live in, Rose, and we have to learn how to survive in it."