Rose's mom would always say how she loved her hair, her father's hair. One day, Rose's dad had walked into the room as she said this. He had sneaked up on her and pulled her into a hug from behind, kissed her on the cheek, and offered one of the day's several proclamations of his love for her, as well as her disobedient hair. Rose's mom had reciprocated with her eyes, gazing at him and blushing momentarily, but said that it was only because just as she loved each and every one of his freckles, because she was the only one who got to see all of them, he loved her unruly hair at its messiest because it was only ever in that state for him. Her father had given her mother a soft smile and had held her tighter, saying, "Hermione Weasley, ever the smart one...I knew I married you for a reason." Her mother had responded wordlessly, tilting her head and kissing him chastely, lovingly. Rose was nine at the time; it was before she had started to conceal how much she appreciated her parents' love for each other, because you only have to do that when you're a teenager.

As she sat on the couch and looked up at her parents, Rose saved the scene into her memory. She thought to herself that a boy who liked her hair best messy must be special. She decided that in order to make it easier for her to find this boy, she would always keep her hair neat. So from that day on, Rose Weasley's hair was always tied back in a ponytail or bun; on special occasions, it would cascade down her back in a controlled braid or be let down with a carefully crafted middle part; even a side part sometimes, if she was feeling particularly daring. All so that one day, she would know that she could let her hair down, run her fingers through it, flip it, and make it truly disastrous – and if whoever was there to witness it was glad to, she would know he was a keeper.

Rose's determination yielded impressive results, and even her female roommates at Hogwarts never saw a hair on her head out of place. Her hairbrush was always sat right at her bedside, and she had a backup in her bag to tame any disobedience due to the wearing trials of the school day. After awhile, it became habit rather than a conscious effort to keep her hair frizz-less and strategically placed. She never forgot, however, her reasons. She never explained these to anyone but Lily, after a night of incessant pestering in the Gryffindor common room during fifth year. After Rose had divulged the reason for her obsession, Lily had laughed for a good few minutes at the absurdity of it before calming down enough to admit that it was a sweet sentiment. But still crazy. And Rose knew it was crazy, but she didn't care too much.

From that fateful day and through her first five years at Hogwarts, Rose had a perfect record of perfect hair. However, one day in sixth year, she lost her front for the first time. It had been a long day full of stress over classes and the future and boys and more specifically best mates who she couldn't stop thinking about, and she fell asleep in her discreet corner of the library near the Restricted section. She had taken her hair out of its tight ponytail, run her fingers through it, flipped it, as she usually only did with the lights out before bed. She had laid her head on the table for a five-minute nap that she didn't wake up from for an hour and a half. Eventually she was dragged into consciousness by warm hands shaking her accompanied by a warm voice beckoning her to wake.

"No, Scorp," she muttered. "Let me sleeeeeeeeeep."

Scorpius chuckled. "Come on, it's almost dinner, you have to wake up."

"I. Need. Sleeeeeeep," said Rose in an anguished moan.

"You missed three lessons today."

"WHAT?!" Rose sat straight up in an instant. "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? HOW LONG WAS I ASLEEP?!"

Scorpius started to laugh, but Rose's face soon took on an expression that he feared could kill him. "Rose, you came here after the day's classes were over. It's only been, like, an hour," he explained, smiling. "Oh, Rose Weasley…ever the predictable one. I knew you were my best friend for a reason." His cheeky expression mellowed to that of a contemplative one as he sat down in a chair next to Rose, and he looked at her for a moment as if studying her.

"What are you thinking about now, you antagonizing prat?" asked a cross-armed Rose in a mock-frustrated tone.

"Nothing, it's just…your hair looks absolutely dreadful."

"Wow, Scorp. You know, at the end of a shitty day, that's exactly what I needed to hear," Rose laughed, not looking at him out of embarrassment.

"No, I mean…this is intended in the most platonic way possible, I promise, but…it looks nice. More than nice. Beautiful," said Scorpius in a nonchalant, half-smiling way. His uncharacteristically colored cheeks, however, indicated anything but nonchalance. He stood, rolled the sleeves of his somewhat wrinkled uniform button down, and gently bopped Rose on the head as he walked pass the bookshelves. "Now get off your ass and come down to dinner. I'll save you a seat, but you can bet that all your favorites will be gone if you're not there in five minutes."

It was at that moment, with his wonderful blush and routinely askew tie, that Rose realized why her "crush" on Scorpius wouldn't go away. It was because these weren't crush feelings, or "oh-my-lord-is-he-attractive" feelings, or anything like that.

These were holy shit, I'm in love with Scorpius Malfoy feelings.

And although "most platonic way possible" and years of friendship discouraged her hope in the prospect, it was undoubtedly quite possible that he was experiencing the exact same disturbing, confusing, amazing and messy-haired emotions for her.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I might continue this, with different pairings realizing their love for one another - please review and let me know if you would be interested in that, or if this is better as a oneshot. Thanks to those who reviewed and favorited Clichès, I really appreciated it. Once again, thanks for reading, hope I didn't disappoint!