Love
Fifteen years old and full of nervous apprehension about owls and exams and the tall boy with platinum blonde hair.
Rose sat at a study table in the library, her hands running anxiously through her hair as she read and reread the same sentence fifteen times.
Scorpius had laughed as he watched her, exuding that ceaseless calm that drove her to frustration.
She had given him a look, and he laughed again, and then he told her he loved her, and she didn't know what to say, let alone what to think.