Oi, Weasley! Can I borrow a quill?

I have a name, Malfoy.

Yeah, I know. The quill?

The name?

FINE. Rose, would you please be so kind as to lend me your spare quill, seeing as I forgot all of mine in the dormitory, seeing as I was in a bit of a hurry, seeing as someone took 45 freaking minutes in the bathroom? What do women do in there all that time?

You can't say you don't appreciate the effect, though.

No, you're right – what?

I said, you can't say you don't appreciate the effect.

No, I got it, I just... what?

Come off it, Malfoy, I know what you think about me.

Hey, if I have to call you Rose, you have to call me by my name, too.

Fine. Come off it, Scorpius, I know what you think about me.

And what might that be?

So I need to tell you what you think now? I thought you had your silly sidekicks to do that for you?

Sidekicks? If you mean Goyle and Zabini, I haven't really hung out with them all year. They were... well, let's just say they were too narrow-minded for me.

Narrow-minded?

Pureblood fascists.

I thought that was all over?

On paper it is.

Ah. So, you're not a pureblood fascist then?

Of course not – I'm talking to you, aren't I?

You call this talking?

You know what I mean.

*sigh* I suppose I do. But anyway, why aren't you off with them?

'Cause they're idiots. All that crap ended years ago, when your parents and your uncle... well, you know what they did. You don't need me parroting it all back.

No, I most certainly do not. However, I do seem to remember hearing that your father was my mother's biggest tormentor at school.

Tormentor? Where do you get this stuff?

Don't change the subject.

Okay, okay; so my father bullied your mother. I'm not my father! Is it so hard to believe?

Yes it is, actually, since your father was a direct clone of his father.

Er, no he wasn't. You clearly don't know my father or my grandfather. Okay, I'll admit that Grandfather is a bit of an ass, but Father isn't, not any more. I realise how cliché this sounds, but he changed after the war! He realised the error of his ways, turned to walk in the light, blah blah blah. And Mother? She tells everyone she's a pureblood, but the truth is her mother was a Squib. Which is worse than being Muggle-born, in most opinions. And as for me? I don't give a fucking damn, Rose. When will you believe that?

When you start acting like it.

So I'm not?

Nope. Not while you're still hexing Gryffindors for the fun of it.

Aha! See, that's where you're wrong. I haven't hexed Gryffindors – hexed anyone, for that matter – since the beginning of sixth year! And especially not since we got the Head positions. You'd have killed me.

Quite possible.

So you believe me now? I'm not a pureblood supremacist, never have been and never will be?

We'll see about that.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Weasley, is there a problem?"

"No, sir."

"Most definitely not, sir."

Rose, just give me the damn quill before Sluggy murders me, 'kay?

Sluggy wouldn't murder you, he's too soft for that.

He might not, but he'd give me detention, ostensibly with Filch, and he would kill me.

Tempting as letting Filch kill you is, here. But I still don't know if I believe your whole "don't give a damn" spiel.

We'll talk later, all right?

Fine.

"Mr Malfoy and Miss Weasley! Really, Head Boy and Girl, I never thought I'd have to give you both detention... but I'm afraid note-passing is simply not tolerable during my classes. See me after class, if you please, both of you."

"Yes, Professor."

"Yes, sir."

I'm going to kill you, Malfoy.

A/N: I've always wanted to write something epistolary. And plus, my longer, 'main' fic is getting kinda heavy, so I wanted to do something lighter. And I've wanted to write Rose/Scorpius for a while. So I'm killing a bunch of birds with one stone.