A/N: I haven't written in a while, but jeez, I have been busy! Eighth grade was a long year, and I'm glad it's over! Now I can spend two months on my couch writing about fictional characters. Oh life.

Anyway, Harry Potter is solely J.K Rowling's; I don't pretend to take any of her material. Okay, that being said, happy reading lovelies.

"Weasley, Rose!"

A small, redheaded girl stumbled up to the stool in the center of the Great Hall. Her great blue eyes reflected the hundreds of candles which hung suspended around the room. To me, at first, she was just another student to be Sorted. A nervous one, yes, but she wasn't anything special.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head and the rim fell over her eyes. From my spot at the Slytherin table, I could visibly see her shaking.

Strangely, I felt slightly excited as she was being Sorted. Though I wouldn't admit it, I was secretly wanted her to be put into my house. And sure enough…

After all, Malfoys are hardly ever denied what they want.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Rose's shoulders slumped, and as the hat was removed, I could see the look of hurt on her face, the shock. Her gaze darted towards the Gryffindor table where James Potter sat.

At that time, I didn't really understand the animosity between our two families, though I had been warned about him from my father. But to me, he didn't look all that unfriendly. That just proves how naïve I was then.

As Rose made her way to our table I made space next to me along the bench, trying to catch her downcast gaze. When she walked passed me, I tapped her shoulder and gestured to the open spot. Rose smiled sadly at me with a look of surprise on her face and sat down. Our legs touched under the table, and even at that tender age, our closeness was enough to make my heart race.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy," I whispered, offering her my hand. She looked at my proffered hand suspiciously, her blue eyes narrowed in distrust.

"I'm… I'm Rose Weasley," she said, taking my outstretched hand cautiously and shaking it. Her hands in mine were soft and warm.

"Slytherin is not that bad you know. Everyone makes us out to be evil or something, but we really aren't," I said encouragingly because she still looked pretty upset.

"Not bad! How can you say that?" Rose hissed, glaring at me. "I'm the first Weasley to be in Slytherin, oh, this is a disaster… I would rather be home!"

I patted her back awkwardly because she looked like she might cry and I had no idea what to do. Her hands shook and those wide blue eyes filled with tears. Since I had never really talked to a girl, I had no experience with situations like that one.

"James got put into Gryffindor, why couldn't I?" she burst out. A few people shot her dirty looks from down the table as she put her face I her hands and started sobbing loudly. I quickly put an arm around her before I knew what I was doing.

"Shh, you're okay," I whispered anxiously. "Please don't cry; I don't like to see you upset."

Rose buried her face deep into my shoulder, her hot tears soaking my robes. My face flushed with embarrassment, but as I held her, she quieted down. And in a few minutes, she remerged, puffy-eyed and red-faced. Rose took a few rattling breaths to compose herself.

"Here, take this," I said, offering her my pocket handkerchief which had an "M" for Malfoy stitched onto it in the corner. "The feast is about to start."

Rose smiled weakly at me, sniffing, as she wiped her face. I removed my arm from her shoulder because she seemed to be feeling better. There were also questioning stares coming our way, which made both of us feel uncomfortable.

"Look, there's James," she said after a few minutes, pointing over a seventh year's shoulder and waving. I craned my neck to get a look at him.

Sitting amidst the Gryffindors and already surrounded by a throng of admires was a boy with black hair and brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes. James's obvious overconfidence made me immediately dislike him.

He gave a questioning tilt of his head, as if asking if Rose was okay. She shrugged, giving him a half smile. From across the room, he mouthed, "keep your head up" and gave her thumbs up. But as Rose took her gaze off him, the young Potter narrowed his eyes in dislike and he gave a slight shake of his head that clearly said, "Get away from my cousin, or else." I threw him an equally nasty glare.

"Thanks for all you did," Rose said, turning back to me and breaking up my mute conversation with her cousin. "It really means a lot to me; I guess not all you Slytherins are bad."

I smiled back, but avoided her gaze. I could feel my face reddening once again. My palms were sweating in nervousness, and my throat was rather dry.

"Well, Mr. Scorpius Malfoy," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. "I believe we are going to be fast friends. But please, call me Rosie."

"You know what Miss Rosie?" I responded, playing along. "I think you're right."

Rose grinned widely at me, her eyes glittering. I couldn't help but notice that she had dimples. At that young age, I couldn't really appreciate how beautiful she was.

Now, three years later as I held her in my arms, I could fully admire the beauty of the little girl that had once cried into my shoulder.