Have you ever read that play, Romeo and Juliet? The one by that famous Muggle author, what's his name, Bill Shakes something. Shakespeare, that's it. About those two kids who fall desperately in love but know they can never be together because their parents hate each other and end up dying for their love.

I have

Before you call me a girl or a pansy or whatever, hear me out. I know it's not exactly normal for your average 16 year old Slytherin boy to read Muggle tragedies but I guess compared to any normal Slytherin my life is anything but normal and I'm off the hook.

I'm not going to tell anyone though. Just to be on the safe side.

I've got my reputation to uphold after all.

Yes, it is I, eat your heart out, Scorpius Hyberon Malfoy.

And sometimes, when I know no-one's around, I sometimes like to think of myself as Romeo.

I can't believe I just admitted that, feel free to call me whatever you want now.

Juliet was the one who started me reading Muggle novels. She lets me borrow them, on the sly when no-one's around, because she loves reading, as in surgically attached to books in love. That is how I first met her properly, on the very first day. It was on the platform, with the smoke rolling though the crowds, hiding them from view. And that's when I saw her, for maybe half a second, her family hidden by steam, just her, emerging from the fog like something out of a fairytale. Our eyes met, steel grey and sapphire blue.

And then the smoke swallowed her and she was gone, it was just my mother and father saying goodbye, telling me to be good, to be in Slytherin or be disowned, and to stay away from Weasley's.

The Malfoy's one golden rule- Don't get friendly with a Weasley. And definitely don't fall in love with one.

And stupid, idiotic, lovesick me had to go and break that one golden rule.

By falling in love with a Weasley.

I'd made it onto the train and dumped my trunk in an empty compartment when I'd heard pounding feet. I stepped into the corridor only to be met with an avalanche of books and curling red hair. She flushed brilliant red as I crawled around on my hands and knees picking up the dozen or so books she'd been carrying and I reached for the last.

It was like one of those moments in those soppy romances my mother is always reading, when the hero and the heroine reach for the same thing and bump heads, I looked deep into those blue eyes and knew I'd broken the one golden rule...And that I didn't care a bit.

Five years on I could still remember every detail of that meeting. The way she smelled of fresh mint, the way her hair had been all over her face, her freckles, her smile as she had introduced herself as Rose Weasley. The way her smile had faded as I pulled her to her feet and told her who I was.

But five years on I wasn't the scrawny dumb kid I'd been then. I was Scorpius Malfoy, handsome, charming, breaking heart wherever I went. I'd grown up.

I knew now that I could never have her. I was a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor. I was a Malfoy, she was a Weasley.

Polar opposites.

I was older now, I knew however much I loved her, however much it hurt when I couldn't see her smile, she would always be my Juliet.

But I would never be her Romeo.