Written for the final round of the QLFC

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Seeker


"So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie."

Her father's words rang in her head as Rose stared down at her first ever test paper. She had certainly inherited her mother's brains, but unfortunately she had also inherited her father's disdain for studying.

She read and reread the first question: What is the incantation for the levitation charm? She knew they'd learned this the week before. Wingardium… Something-or-other. She wrote the part she was sure of down. Perhaps she'd at least get half a point.

Rose fared no better on questions two through ten. She knew that she ought to know the answers, remembered the topics being covered in class, but she simply had no idea what she needed to write down.

She glanced across the room at the back of Malfoy's head. His quill was racing across the paper as he confidently filled in the answers.

Sighing, Rose stared at her watch, counting down the seconds to the end of the test. She knew she had failed, and she did not doubt that Scorpius had passed. Her dad would be so disappointed in her.

When the tests were marked, Rose had managed to come bottom of the class.

"You'll have to work harder than that if you want to live up to your mother's reputation, Miss Weasley," Flitwick said quietly as he handed back her parchment, covered in red-inked corrections.

Frankly, Rose didn't particularly care about living up to her mother's reputation. Unfortunately, she knew that her parents did care, very much. They wanted the best for her, she knew, but there was a lot of pressure on her.

The daughter of two war heroes, one of whom was the brightest witch of her generation. Hermione still held the record for highest combined score on her OWL exams, and she loved to remind Rose that she would have her work cut out for her if she wanted to beat them.

As the years passed, the pressure only increased. Rose made herself study enough to do well in her end of year exams, but it was never quite up to the standards that her parents and professor's alike expected of her, and her classwork was, more often than not, subpar.

In her fifth year, Rose found herself being called into McGonagall's office to discuss her poor performance.

"Really, Miss Weasley, we expect much better of you."

Rose stared at the floor, unwilling to argue that she was not her mother.

"To that note, I have arranged for some tutoring sessions for you, in order to bring your grades up. This is your OWL year, and you need to work harder."

"Who's going to be tutoring me, Professor?" Rose asked, her mind wandering to some of the rather attractive boys in Ravenclaw and thinking that tutoring may not be too terrible.

"Mr Malfoy will be assisting you," McGonagall replied. Rose scowled, but she didn't argue.

"You will meet him on Wednesdays at precisely five o'clock, in the library. He should be able to assist you with any subjects you are struggling with."

"Yes, Professor," Rose replied sullenly.

That Wednesday, Rose arrived at the library at precisely five, not wanting to give Scorpius any reason to report her. She had never really interacted with him before this, but everyone knew that Slytherins were always out to cause trouble for Gryffindors, and she would not give him any excuse to do so for her.

She found Scorpius sat at a table in the Transfiguration section, head bowed over a book, fiddling absent-mindedly with his tie as he read. Rose snorted. No-one wore their ties; the professors didn't care enough to enforce the dress code that strictly.

Probably just trying to look like he's better than me, Rose thought to herself, as she pulled out the chair opposite him and slumped down into it, intentionally making herself look as scruffy as possible.

Scorpius smiled at her with his disgustingly perfect teeth. Rose bared her slightly crooked ones back.

"Good evening," Scorpius greeted her, closing his book and sliding it into the bag at his feet. Rose grunted in response, sliding even further down in her chair.

"Is there anything in particular you would like to start with?" Scorpius asked.

"Not really," Rose replied, scowling. Ruddy Malfoy, had to be so perfect at everything that it wouldn't matter what she chose, he'd be able to teach it.

"Well, what are you struggling with?" Scorpius probed, still smiling.

"I'm not."

Scorpius frowned. "Professor McGonagall left me with the impression that your grades are a little lower than you would like."

"Course she did," Rose scoffed. "I'm fine with my grades just as they are, it's everyone else that's got a problem with them."

Scorpius leaned forward slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No, she didn't. Of course she didn't, especially not to a slimy Slytherin know-it-all. And yet, somehow, she felt the words rushing from her.

"Everyone expects me to be just as good as my mum. Oh, Hermione was so clever, Hermione's so talented, Hermione's perfect, and I'm just… Normal, and that's not good enough for anyone! Why do I have to be Hermione Granger's daughter all the time? Why can't I just be Rose?!"

Scorpius studied her silently for a minute, and she fidgeted under his gaze.

"I understand," he said.

"How could you possibly understand?"

A flush of pink rose up Scorpius' cheeks, but he gave no other indication that he was offended.

"Everyone thinks of me as Draco Malfoy junior. I'm expected to lead Slytherin house, play quidditch, work at the Ministry and further our name. But that's not what I want."

"What do you want?" Rose asked.

"I don't know. But I want to decide for myself, not be told by someone else. Anyway," Scorpius looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "If you're happy with your grades, there's no need for us to be here. Go on, I won't report you."

Strangely, Rose believed him.

They didn't suddenly become best friends. They didn't even become acquaintances. But Rose found herself occasionally smiling at Scorpius as they passed in the hall, and when she heard that he had applied for an apprenticeship to become a professor, she felt strangely proud of him for stepping out of his father's shadow and into his own light.