A/N: Hello readers! This is my very first fanfiction! I was given the prompt by a friend and this is what came of it. I would very much appreciate some reviews to let me know how I can improve. This is just a one-shot. I would like to write a full length story about Rose and Scorpius some day, but I have another project in the works right now.
Prompt: "I knew what you were from the very beginning."
It starts with detention from her own head of house for being too bold in a classroom and not being able to hold her tongue. That causes her to fall behind on homework and fail a charms assignment, have bad marks in transfiguration, and fail to turn in a potions essay. She and her mother get into a strongly worded argument through letters about the importance of respecting her professors and keeping up on her schoolwork. It all comes to a head when she finally gathers the gumption to try out for the Gryffindor qudditch team. He is there to watch and support her, and not too long into her try out, he knows he will have to be there to support her afterwards. It goes from bad to worse. She does not catch one quaffle the duration of her time above the pitch. He can tell she is starting to have a panic attack when her flying takes a turn for the worse. He feels embarrassed for her, but he will not leave, not when she is having such an awful week, not when she needs him to be there.
He is there in the locker room when she walks off the pitch, humiliated. Tears are shining in her eyes, but he already knows she won't let them fall. She didn't cry, not ever. In a fit of frustration and temper that comes from her father, she throws her broom against the wall so hard it actually breaks.
Her face goes from angry to mournful as she sees the broken broom handle and she simply sits down on the floor, head in her hands. He can hear the others approaching and knows she won't want to be seen like this, so without a word, he comes behind her, pulls her up under her arms and almost drags her back towards the castle. They walk quickly, trying to avoid everyone, going to their favorite room to hide away from everyone in. Through hallways and doors, to the room the choir uses to practice in. It's empty the majority of the time. Hogwarts was not overly concerned with teaching it's student's the arts.
"Don't feel bad," he says, as he sinks into a seat next to her.
Her glare would have been enough to silence him only a few short years ago. "Scorpius, don't," she hisses at him.
The contempt in her voice isn't meant to be directed at him, and he knows this. He can feel a great deal of compassion for her swelling in his chest and he sighs, wishing he could make everything go perfectly for her. "This... this was a rough week for you, huh?"
She pulls her hair loose and starts rubbing her scalp like she does when it's been up all day or pulled back too tightly, that thick, dark red hair a frizzy, sweaty mess. "I... I broke my broom."
"We can try to fix it later."
"I told dad I was trying out. Now I have to tell him it was awful and I didn't make the team."
"Rose, it's okay. You've had a really bad week with a lot of bad things all on top of each other. You just need a little while to rest and not think about any of it."
The tears are back now and he is surprised. Because Rose doesn't cry. Not ever. Yet the tears are back, and unless he is mistaken, two just fell from her eyes onto her lap as she sits there, legs crossed, looking pitiful in her defeated spirit. "My mother hates me."
He will not stand for this. Not when he knows it to be so blatantly false. "No, she does not. You are upset. You've got a lot going on. Your mother loves you, she was just a little disappointed because she didn't know everything that was going on. She does not hate you. Rose, even if you failed everything, she would still love you."
Her tears are flowing in earnest now. She sniffles and wipes her nose on the back of her hand. He hands her a handkerchief, because he is still a gentleman, even if he is not in his father's house that values tradition above all else. He knows what will make her feel better. So he takes her down to the Hufflepuff common room, and glares at anyone who questions them. He never meant to abuse his position as prefect, but this is one time the rules can be bent. He gives her blankets and pillows to curl up in while they sit in the loft portion with plates and plates of her favorite sweets around them, courtesy of the house elves. She slowly gets comfortable as he sits and reads her favorite muggle novel Jane Eyre to her.
After she has calmed down, he helps her with her homework, and convinces her to ask Flitwick for extra credit. Then he sits by her side as she writes a letter to her mother. It is nearly curfew, but still, they sit in his common room, not at all concerned about the rules for tonight.
"I just don't want to disappoint my parents, you know?" she whispers, sealing the envelope she plans to send in the morning. "My dad played quidditch. He wasn't amazing or anything, but he played, and he always wanted one of us to play. Hugo obviously has no interest in quiditch at all, so I thought I would try. And my mom... you know how she is. She always got perfect marks on everything. She's so smart, and I'm just... it's not that easy for me. I've got that... that learning disability... dyslexia, so it's harder for me to read and stuff."
He sighs and pulls her tighter into his side as her head comes to rest on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. I'm... I mean, your dad is Ron Weasley and your uncle is Harry Potter, so I'm sure my parents aren't revered figures in your house. But they aren't like they were in school anymore. They're better now. They don't buy into any of the pureblood superiority anymore, and they don't hate muggles either, though they sure don't understand them. But they... really like tradition. And... I broke it. I'm not a Slytherin. I'm a Hufflepuff. 'Lot of leftovers,' we're called." He trails off. He is proud of his house. And he knows that his father is proud of him too. But sometimes what other people whispered about his house and about him still got to him.
Rose turns to face him, her eyes still puffy from crying, a bit of chocolate frosting on the corner of her mouth, hair a tangled mass of knots. She looks beautiful to him. And what she says makes his heart swell with even more affection for her. "Scorpius Malfoy. You are nobody's leftovers. You are just as clever and creative as any Ravenclaw. You're as brave as the finest Gryffindor. You're ambitious as the Slytherin's. You just happen to know that some things are more important. Being in Hufflepuff doesn't mean you would stand back from war, but that you would stand back to take care of those who are wounded, those who are left orphans, those who are left behind. It doesn't mean you're not smart, just that you know there's things more important than cleverness. It' doesn't mean you value tradition any less than your father, just that you know some traditions need to change and make way for new things. I saw what you were right from the beginning, Scorpius, and it wasn't leftovers. Right when we sat together for our very first herbology class, I knew what you were."
"And what's that?"
"Someone I was going to want in my life forever. Because you did something more important than bravery, cleverness, or ambition. You cared. And you were afraid that no one would like you because of the things your parents did, and you wanted to be different, but you were nervous about being different. And I so badly wanted you to be my friend. You are my best friend, Scorpius. And... I care... I... I have a... I like you."
He will never cease to be amazed by this girl. She is so bold to stand for what she thinks is right that she will get into a shouting match with a professor and not think twice about it. Now, here she is, admitting she feels more for him than just friendship, and she can barely string together the words to convey what she means. Yet even now, her bravery shows through. He feels the overwhelming desire to kiss her, but resists.
"I like you too, Rose."
She sighs and smiles, and instead of kissing her, he wipes the frosting from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, pleased when she blushes scarlet. She lays her head down on his shoulder again. "Maybe this wasn't such a bad week after all."
"Yeah," he agrees. "Maybe not."
A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my short story. Would you mind very much telling me what you think?