[S]o what if Scorpius Malfoy was supposed to be your sworn enemy? So what if he was a Slytherin? There were worse things in the world, right? You've been told not to let your House define you, but Houses matter—to some extent, at least. You're a Gryffindor. Slytherins are off-limits, forbidden fruit, a no-no. But if there was one thing you've learned, it's that rules were made to be broken.
[L]ying won't get you anywhere with your family. Of course, your father, Head Auror Potter would be a highly trained Occlumens, you knew this. And then there's your mother, who can search the soul with a single glance. Your uncle George used to joke that she was offered a place with the Dementors, but turned it down to pursue her Quidditch dreams. You knew you couldn't keep this from them forever, but you had never expected their reactions once you'd told them.
[Y]ou should probably sit down, Mum, Dad. I… I'm interested in men," you tell them. Your mother looks slightly crestfallen though she tries to hide her emotions, and your father is looking straight through you, his mind brewing with possible responses. "Mum? Dad? Are—are you all… alright?" you ask tentatively. "Albus," your father starts. "You should know that we'll accept your decision, no matter what the circumstances, okay? I'm so happy for you, Al. Really, I am," he added at your raised eyebrow. "Listen. Don't be worried about us, Al. As long as you're happy, we're happy. Thank you for telling us, I know how hard this must have been. Thank you for trusting us, Al." Your father claps you on the back, smiling over his true emotions—whatever they may be.
[T]here should be some sort of rule imposed against staring at another person for a prolonged amount of time, you realize. Scor doesn't even notice you—it's a good thing he doesn't. You wouldn't want to have to explain that. So you content yourself by hiding behind a bookshelf, from which point you have a perfect view of how the light hits his hair ever so perfectly. You check over your shoulder periodically to see whether or not Madam Pince has been watching you. You cross your fingers and hope beyond hope that no one saw you, just as Scorpius stands and stretches. He tells his fellow Slytherins that they should probably head back to their common room—the snake den, you think to yourself. And of course, they follow him, simply because he's a Malfoy and, true to his family name, is the leader of his peers. You sigh and head up to your own common room, your thoughts lingering on the way his body moved when he stretched.
[H]e doesn't even notice you for another week. You're in Transfiguration, and you're paired up to practice a new spell. Scorpius is his usual haughty self, but you can't figure out how to form words anymore (is it because of his presence?) so Scorpius practices the spell first on you. You don't try to defend yourself; you just look at him. "Your turn, Albus," he says, his voice like ice. "Right," you grunt, raising your wand. But you hesitate. You can't jinx Scorpius Malfoy. Luckily for you, the bell rings within a millisecond. You hurry to gather your books and head out the door.
[E]very day, you see him—whether it be in classes or just passing in the corridors. Every night, you dream about him. Every morning, you wake, wondering whether or not he thinks about you, too. Whether or not he knows you exist or not. You simply keep holding onto the slim ray of hope that he's noticed you and feels the same way that you do. Hope is a fickle friend.
[R]arely is Scorpius seen without his usual crowd of Slytherins surrounding him. Your own friends have grown curious of you—they begin to ask why you keep looking over at the Slytherins; why you choose to sit near their table in the library; why you always try to get paired up with Scorpius in class. His friends glare at you as you walk by, though you only have eyes for Scorpius. He also notices that something's up, though he's good at concealing his emotions.
[I]n a few weeks, Scorpius finally admits his true feelings. He apologizes over and over again, saying that he feels terrible about it but he's fallen in love with you. You are shocked, and your face shows it. Scor takes your emotions in the wrong way; he assumes that his feelings will never be returned. You reassure him that you do love him, before it's too late. You can't allow him to lose hope and try moving on. So you tell him.
[N]ow the only thing left is to tell your parents—they'll find out soon enough that you're dating the son of their sworn enemy. They always seem to find out everything, though you're positive that if you tell them yourself, it will be a lot easier to deal with their reactions. So one day, while at the dinner table, you mutter, "You know Scorpius Malfoy?" and they nod slightly in confirmation. "I-think-I-love-him," you blurt out in one breath. Your mother's jaw drops, and your father turns a glare on her. She closes her mouth, still looking shocked. "And..um… We're dating." You look up into your father's eyes, searching the green orbs for some reaction from him. But of course, being the supportive father that he is, he forces his lips upward into a smile, congratulating you for finding love. You let out a sigh of relief—at least he wasn't outwardly furious. Maybe he really is okay with it. You simply try to convince yourself that as long as they let you think that they're happy, you can be happy, too. So you live off that hope with Scor, and the hope carries you through long enough for you to be truly happy.
A.N: Wow, exactly 1,000 words.. Funny how that works out sometimes. This was written for the Acrostic Competition using the word Slytherin, and the If You Dare Challenge using prompt #559—forbidden fruit.