Fourth Year
"Rose, Transfiguration in twenty minutes."
Albus towered over the pile of flaming red curls.
"Wake up, Rose."
She jerked into an upright position, eyes wild and blurry.
"What? What is it?"
"Transfiguration. In … eighteen minutes, now."
She nodded, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Albus smirked, clapped her shoulder, and left the library. She glanced down at the roll of parchment she had fallen asleep on.
"Bleeding hypogriffs." Her unfinished essay for the very class she was almost late to seemed to laugh in her face. Dipping her quill in the ink (still open and half dry), she scribbled down whatever came to her mind about partial human transformations.
"…is not suggested for inexperienced wizards … no, that sounds daft – "
"Malfoy! You coming?"
Rose froze, mid-sentence, hearing the voice of the sixth year Ravenclaw chaser, Arthur Boot.
"Yeah, one minute, I'll be right there." Scorpius's words came from the book shelf next to her. Was Rose mistaken or did his voice sound strained?
"Ok. Meet you on the pitch."
Boot's footsteps faded.
Rose felt herself shrink as Scorpius came into view, anticipating a fight but unwilling to waste any of her already limited time on it.
She needn't have worried, however. He never even spared a glance in her direction. Unable to look away, she stared at his disheveled hair, drawn expression, tight eyes – could she be imagining the red in them? This was not the Scorpius she knew.
He was shoving something – a letter, by the looks of it – into his bag. However, in his haste, it didn't place, and when it hit a table and fluttered to the ground, Scorpius didn't even seem to notice. He just breezed from the room.
"Malfoy!" she cried, standing instinctively. She rushed to where the letter had fallen, throwing open the door and looking from side to side. But he was gone.
Re-entering the library, Rose stared at the folded parchment in her hand. It seemed to be burning a hole in her skull. She knew that she should not read it. But, like her Grandmum Weasley, she had an insatiable curiosity for things like this. What had made Scorpius so distraught?
She only fought it for a moment more before unfolding it eagerly. The first thing she noticed was the beautiful, pristine hand. There didn't seem to be a single letter out of place.
Scorpius,
Your mother and I were disappointed to hear of your inability to receive the top marks of your class. After all, if there was one positive thing about your sorting into Ravenclaw, it was that you were supposed to be an excellent student. You cannot afford mediocrity. A great deal about your future depends on whether or not you are able to set yourself apart in your studies while still in Hogwarts. Your name alone will get you nowhere.
Your mother wishes you a happy birthday. I hope that, as you are now fifteen, you will finally begin taking your studies seriously. Your O.W.L.'s are approaching faster than you might imagine, and it has become increasingly obvious that academic endeavors currently mean nothing to you. At this rate, you will not make prefect, let alone Head Boy.
I was pleased to learn of your place as the keeper on the Ravenclaw team, but I hope that you do not let this go to your head and do not use it as any excuse to let your studies slide. There is no future for you in Quidditch, so focus on the things that will take you somewhere.
Your Father,
Draco Malfoy
Rose was gaping by the time she had finished. What kind of celebratory letter was this? She scanned it over once more, biting her lip until it bled. It was his birthday. How miserable.
Like most people, Scorpius was more than she had originally thought. She felt an ache in her chest to think that he was the product of such an icy upbringing.
When, later that day, she found herself mere steps behind him, she slid the letter gingerly back into his bag. Hopefully he would never notice it missing. Then she sped on ahead of him, keeping her head tucked down.
Later that day, she didn't know what possessed her, but she scribbled, "Happy birthday!" on a napkin and surreptitiously flew it to his plate at dinner. She had bent her head back over her food by the time he looked up, but she flushed with pleasure as he gave a half smile before folding it carefully and sliding it into his pocket.