He had been gone for days. She had known when she had told him to leave that she may never see him again; but the truth was far from that. She almost knew for definite that he still wanted to know her, still wanted to speak to her and spend time with her, but she did not know to what extent this would be. Would he just want to be mere acquaintances, or would he want to be her friend? Would he even consider…? No. She could not think this way. Could not get her hopes up for a chance so small that it shouldn't even be considered a possibility.
She had let him go on a technicality, a technicality she shouldn't have cared about. It was such an insignificant detail looking back on it that she couldn't believe herself; couldn't believe that she had talked herself into thinking that this would be right for her, right for him. How could she have thought he was wrong for her and that she was not the right person for him? He was the only person she needed, the only person she wanted to see when she was feeling like crap on a rainy Thursday night, or on lonely Sunday mornings when there was no one to talk to.
But she hadn't seen that before. Oh no, in fact she had gone as far as to think she wanted him more than he wanted her, and that had scared her; scared her so much that she hadn't even realised. And whilst her subconscious quietly tried to tell her that she was making a mistake, she ignored it and made it anyway. And it wasn't until she let herself think about what had happened a few days later that she realised.
She loved him.
She, Rose Weasley, was in love with Scorpius Malfoy. And she was petrified to the core that he would not take her back.