Second year: Carpenters

"Scorpius!"

Scorpius had only just turned to the source of the voice when red hair filled his vision. He uttered an oof as Rose collided right into his chest, barely keeping his balance as the redhead wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing merrily in his ear.

"Hey Rose," he said in a strangled tone. Rose pulled away, her enthusiasm drowning out any apology she might have had in mind.

"I've missed you!" she cried. "You look wonderful. Summer's been good to you then? Oh, nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Malfoy! I'm Rose Weasley."

Scorpius blinked, remembering his parents. His mother looked torn between delight and astonishment; his father's eye twitched very slightly. Behind Rose, he spotted Mr Weasley's reddening face from a distance. If looks could kill, Scorpius was sure he'd already be dead.

He quickly disentangled himself from Rose's exuberant embrace.

"Egypt was lovely," he said instead, unable to keep from smiling despite the death threat staring at him across the platform.

Rose beamed. "Save me a seat in your compartment?"

As she returned to say her goodbyes to her family, Scorpius heard his father clear his throat.

"So you're friends with the Weasley girl, then?"

"Her name is Rose, father," he said, sounding more defensive than he intended. His father said nothing, only rested his cool gaze on the gaggle of Weasleys standing some distance away. Then, quite unnecessarily, Scorpius added, "We study together."

"Well, she seems like a fine young lady," his mother said, after a tense silence. Scorpius gave her hand a grateful squeeze. If his father had any thoughts on the matter, he held this tongue. Instead, he held out Scorpius' owl cage to him.

"Look out for yourself," he said evenly.

"I will," Scorpius said. As he waved his final goodbye and boarded Hogwarts Express, he couldn't help the smile sneaking onto his face as he hurried off to find an empty compartment.

So much for looking out for himself.

It was only a few days into second year, and Scorpius had already landed in the Hospital Wing. When he came to, groggy and aching all over, Madam Pomfrey was still fussing over him. She had applied a heinously stinky balm on his face to curb the swelling; his eyes teared from its stench. He winced at the stinging pain on his face, leaning back in his pillow and trying to make himself comfortable. The swell was so bad he could barely see past his fat eyelids.

Well, at least he made sure bloody Zabini grew a pair of ugly antlers.

The term had barely started, and already his housemates were eagerly living up to the stereotype of being elitist pricks. Scorpius identified with his house—he agreed with cleverness, ambition and resourcefulness—but certain housemates clearly preferred to indulge their bigoted side, mouthing off on their supposed superiority every chance they got.

Especially Zabini, who was in the midst of his anti-Hufflepuff tirade when Scorpius hexed him in the face.

It was worth it, even if it meant Scorpius now had two weeks of detention for instigating a fight in the hallway.

His father wasn't going to be pleased.

"Oh, Scorpius."

Scorpius turned his head to Rose's voice. Her footsteps neared, and he heard her take a seat beside his bed. "Hey," he croaked. Even his voice sounded swollen. He could only make out a bit of her from beneath the narrow slits of his eyelids.

"Shh. I had to sneak in." She sounded awfully worried. "What on earth happened? Al told me Zabini cast the Stinging Jinx on you after your Transfiguration class."

"Did he also mention the fact that I gave Zabini antlers?"

"Antlers?"

"I hope he has a bollocking headache," Scorpius said thickly.

He felt her fingers curl into his. "It's not like you to get into a fight."

"Well, he was being a prick. Slytherin, as you well know, is full of them."

"Al told me he was saying some nasty stuff about Hufflepuff." Rose's voice was quiet. "Was that what it was about? I'm sure he gives you a hard time about being my friend."

"He's probably jealous I'm your friend."

"Why would he be?" She sounded puzzled.

"Who wouldn't want to be your friend? Only you would visit someone who looks like a right troll." He sniffled; the stinky balm was making his nose run.

Rose laughed. He could feel her fingertips graze his cheek. "You look awful. But still pretty, I promise." There was a rising mischief in her voice. "…Can I sketch you real quick?"

"No."

"For memory's sake. I already miss your face."

Scorpius clasped her hand tightly in his to keep her from reaching for the pencil in her hair. "Not like this. I'll let you sketch me when I'm all better."

"Only if you promise not to get into fights again. It's not worth it."

"If people aren't going to be nicer to you, I'm not going to stand for it."

Rose said nothing for a moment, then—"You sound like a Gryffindor."

"You're going to regret saying that," he mumbled, genuinely affronted. Rose chuckled, and it surprised him to feel her fingers run gently through his hair. Despite his bloated face, he could feel a blush heating up his neck. It was probably a good thing he could hardly see her; he wouldn't know where to look.

"Hurry up and get better," she said. "It's not the same without you."

"Oh, brill," Albus Potter said, when he bumped into Scorpius a day later. "You're back. Hey, so are your cheekbones!"

Scorpius raised an eyebrow at this, continuing his way down the hall. Albus rolled his eyes and kept pace. "Malfoy, wait up. I need your help."

Scorpius was not interested. "Have you seen Rose?"

"As a matter of fact…"

A few minutes later, Scorpius was following Albus up Gryffindor Tower and joining a very grumpy Gryffindor crowd. There was some sort of commotion; students were standing around looking bored or irritated. Scorpius frowned, going on tip-toes to see what was going on. It seemed the Gryffindors were held up outside their own portrait hole.

"It's Rose," Albus explained with a weary sigh. "She's been holding the Fat Lady hostage for half an hour."

Scorpius frowned. "Why?"

"Some sort of interrogation. She did that with my great-grandad's portrait once. Scary stuff."

"That's why you dragged me up here?"

Albus offered a helpless shrug. "Frankly, at this point I'm willing to do anything to gain entry into my own common room."

The Fat Lady, guardian of Gryffindor Tower, was looking increasingly annoyed with Rose, who looked tiny before the towering portrait. "Do you remember what else he said?" she was saying, ignoring the grousing of the Gryffindors behind her. "Expergo? That's it?"

"I'm telling you, young lady, that's all I heard from my handsome painter," the Fat Lady cried. "I was too occupied with his face to care about what he was saying."

"But," Rose persisted, "surely he did more to bring you alive in your portrait? Perhaps he mentioned something about his paint, or his brushes—"

The Fat Lady gave an exasperated shriek, rattling the wineglasses in her portrait.

Dominique Weasley, the current Head Girl, had her hand firmly on Rose's shoulder. "You heard her, Rosie. This has gone long enough. I'm going to need you to step aside."

"I'm sure the Fat Lady remembers more than she's telling me, Dom. She barely recalled anything half an hour ago!"

"Exactly, it's been half an hour," Dominique said in a tight voice. "Rosie, have some consideration. This isn't your turf. Don't make me take points from Hufflepuff."

Rose opened her mouth to protest. Albus chose this moment to shove Scorpius forward. Scorpius tripped on someone's foot and stumbled into Rose's back. She turned, her face lighting up.

"Scorpius! You're back!"

"Hey?" Scorpius said awkwardly.

The portrait swung open just then to reveal James Potter and Fred Weasley, both of whom ooohed and aaahed when they saw Rose and Scorpius. The stranded Gryffindors jumped on the opportunity to dash into the common room.

"My, my, what a reunion we have here!" James said brightly, ruffling Rose's hair. "Brought your boyfriend, didn't you?"

"Got any new sketches recently?" Fred added, swiping Rose's sketchbook from her arm and opening it. "Wow, James, look at all this—"

"Honestly, Rose, you doing a study of Malfoy, or—?"

"Bloody hell. You're obsessed with the bloke!"

"Come on, clear out," Dominique said wearily. "Rose's been holding everyone up the past half hour. Let's give the Fat Lady a break, shall we?"

"That would be ideal," the Fat Lady huffed, fanning herself.

Rose's cheeks were burning as she snatched her sketchbook back from Fred. Albus gave her arm a squeeze before he followed Dominique through the portrait hole. Before James and Fred could say another word, Scorpius grabbed Rose's hand.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?" James protested. "We barely had a chat, come on now—"

Scorpius strode off briskly, Rose's hand clasped tightly in his.

Rose kept her head down as they approached the open grounds. They only came to a stop when Scorpius decided they were completely alone. Rose was still holding his hand, so tightly it almost hurt.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Um. You alright?"

"Yeah," Rose mumbled. It startled Scorpius to see her on the verge of tears. She dried her eyes impatiently with her sleeve. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

It was strange; Rose never gave a toss about what people said about her, yet here she was, half in tears over a few offhanded remarks from her cousins. Suddenly he understood why she isolated herself from them—she took their words to heart, and their words often stung. He recalled Dominique's brusque tone and Fred and James' unkind teasing, and it occurred to him that Rose Weasley kept a tender heart.

"It must be hard on you," he said at last.

"It's alright." She managed a small smile, clutching tightly to her sketchbook. "I suppose it was my fault for pestering the Fat Lady in the first place. Dom was right. I was being inconsiderate." She looked down at her feet. "Um. Also, about what James and Fred said… it's not… I mean…"

"It's fine. I don't mind," Scorpius said quickly, not wanting to bring it up again. Rose nodded, looking embarrassed.

Scorpius stuffed his hands in his pockets, hating the awkward silence between them. More than that, seeing Rose upset didn't sit well with him. He liked it better when she was smiling. He took a deep breath, then held out his hand to her.

"I have something to show you. Come on."

For as long as he remembered, Scorpius was intrigued with alchemy and its mysteries. His earliest childhood memory involved his father poring over its symbols, as though trying to decode its secrets. From an early age, Scorpius would often sneak into his father's study. It was a fascinating room, filled with displays of de-magicked dark objects from the wizarding war, as well as alchemic manuscripts his father had collected from his travels over the years. The dark objects were only marginally interesting to him; Scorpius was always more drawn to the manuscripts. Since entering Hogwarts, he had given hours to understand the subject.

It was ironic that it was at Gryffindor Tower that Scorpius found courage to share his hiding place with Rose. They walked along the length of the castle, towards the deserted North Wing. In the corner of the ground floor was the door to an abandoned classroom. It was here that he'd spent countless afternoons, reading avidly and indulging in his very nerdy obsession of alchemy and plant research. For over a year, it was his, and his alone.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room was filled with trinkets stored from years of Muggle Studies class—from old record players, vintage furniture, to odd-looking communication devices. Muggles, it seemed, invented new things at a dastardly rate.

He watched Rose nervously as she stepped into the room, an awed expression on her face. She trailed her hand across a dusty bookcase, taking in the tall ceilings and endless nooks and crannies stuffed with Muggle inventions, before setting down her sketchbook atop a chest of drawers. In the corner of the room that Scorpius claimed as his own was a tall bookshelf that held not books, but jars of the botany he collected on his walks with Rose.

She wandered towards it, and he could see amazement fill her eyes.

"It's yours," she said, staring at the jars of botany with undisguised curiosity. "You come here to be alone." She seemed almost to be talking to herself now. "And you're sharing this with me."

Scorpius shrugged, leaning against a desk. "You're a nice person," he said carefully, "but you hate people. Kind of like me, really."

There was a quirk in the corner of Rose's lips, but she said nothing.

"No one will find us here," he continued, absently picking up an old vinyl record and dusting it off. "…Well, maybe only once a year, when they come to dump a new bunch of Muggle artefacts. You're welcome to be here. Whenever you like."

"My mum listens to Carpenters," Rose said, after a long moment. "I love them."

Scorpius couldn't explain the goose bumps rising in his skin. It was a cool day, yet his cheeks were warm. He cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. I put this on once. They're not bad."

"They're brilliant." She was looking right at him now, her eyes bright. "You do know that you won't be able to get rid of me now."

Scorpius couldn't help a smile. "I don't mind that."

"How can I thank you? Anything you like?" Rose reached into her pockets. "Sherbet Lemons, perhaps?"

She had a hopeful expression on her face. The faded sunlight from the window unraveled the gold in her red hair. Once again, Scorpius was distracted. Then, without thinking—"When I give my mother something, she gives me a kiss."

And before he realised what he said, Rose had kissed his cheek, her lips warm against his skin.