"My dad hates your father."

"I know."

"Like, with a burning, fiery passion."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes."

He looked at her with amusement. She was staring up at him in complete seriousness, one hand on his chest as though to hold him back.

"I don't care," he said gently.

"He'd kill me," she whispered, though her tone suggested she didn't care all that much.

"I'll protect you."

"Oh you will, will you?" She was amused. He took this as a good sign.

"Of course."

"You. Measley little sixth year you?"

"Measley? That hurts."

"He's a fully-trained Auror you know."

"Yes, I suppose he is."

He reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She quieted at his touch, whatever words she had planned to say next dying on her lips.

"I don't care," he whispered again. She looked up at him with searching eyes, trying to read his expression. He stared earnestly back, trying with everything he had to convince her of his honesty.

"I don't know about this," she sighed, though she still hadn't pulled away. He noticed with some pleasure that her hand was still on his chest, fingers curled slightly around the fabric of his shirt as though to hold him there.

"What have we to lose?" he asked softly, trailing a finger along her freckled cheek, down her jawline and under her chin. He lifted slightly, bringing her face upwards, forcing her to look him in the eye. She met his gaze unwaveringly.

"People will talk," she warned.

"Let them talk. I don't give a damn what people think of me."

"That's not at all true," she murmured. "You care very much."

He stared at her, half in annoyance and half in awe. How had he spent five and a half years thinking this girl was nothing but a push-button text book, absorbing facts but never actually taking in the world around her? She was nothing like that. She was observant, people-smart and frighteningly intuitive sometimes. Like now for instance.

"You're so keen to make the Malfoy name something to be proud of again. You think through everything you do ahead of time, weighing the results and possible repercussions and probable effect on your family's name," she added.

"And I've already done all that," he said impatiently. "I don't care," he said again.

"And what happens when you realize that you do?" she asked sadly. "What happens when you realize your father will hate this, my father will probably try to strangle you, and your grandparents will be furious? What happens when people whisper behind your back and mine? What happens when they make rude comments to our faces or say crass things? What happens then?"

"I don't care."

"You keep saying that," she sighed. "I just don't think-"

"Please, please don't say you don't think it will work."

"I don't," she said honestly, staring him straight in the eye. "And what about Albus? Or James?"

"I don't care about James."

"Albus then."

"He'll understand," he answered dismissively.

"If he doesn't?"

"He will," he said firmly. His eyes softened very suddenly. "At least say you'll give it a shot," he whispered.

"We can't, Scorpius," she murmured. Her hand reached up and touched his cheek; her fingers were ice cold, but he didn't pull away.

"Kiss me," he said. Her eyes snapped back to his, questioning and confused again.

"Sorry?"

"Kiss me, Rose."

"No." She stepped back, her hand dropping back to her side. "I'm sorry, Scorpius."

She started to walk away. She was almost out of arm's reach when he reached out and caught her hand. Her fingers curled automatically around his. She paused and looked back.

"I never knew you to be scared of a challenge," he goaded, his last attempt at convincing her. She gave him a disappointed look for trying to bait her.

"I'm not scared. I just know it would never work. We come from two completely different worlds," she answered. She hesitated, then seemed to make a decision as she flashed him an uncertain smile. "Would it be corny of me to ask if we can still be friends?"

His jaw clenched. His grip tightened on her hand, and he pulled, bringing her back in front of him. She looked up at him in confusion, but her expression didn't even register before he brought his lips crashing down on hers.

She didn't even hesitate in kissing him back. His lips molded perfectly to hers, and he was surprised when she deepened the kiss, clutching at his arms as she pressed herself against him. Passion, despair, lust, fire and ice were in that kiss. It was the kiss of two lovers saying a final goodbye, though the two had never even been on a formal date. He held her tightly, refusing to be the one to pull away first, eager to keep her there as long as possible.

It was with awful finality that Rose Weasley pulled away from Scorpius Malfoy that night in the seventh floor corridor.

"We can't be friends," he answered breathlessly, the feeling of her lips still lingering on his. It was painful to imagine spending days with her and not being able kiss her, hold her, stroke her hair. No, they could never be just friends.

"Then I guess this is goodbye," she replied sadly. His heart sank.

"I'll still be here," he whispered. She gave him a heartbreakingly sad smile.

"The answer will always be no."

He stood perfectly still as she leaned in and gave him the gentlest of kisses on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Scorpius."

"Bye, Rose."

She turned and walked away, head held high. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself was the only indication she was anything but perfectly fine. He watched until her beautiful red hair disappeared around a corner.

"I think I'm in love with you," he whispered to the empty corridor.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize as belonging to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: This is just something I whipped up. I'm currently working on preparations for a next generation story, and this just popped into my head. I might expand on it later. I actually have nothing against the Rose/Scorpius pairing; I really like it in fact. I am definitely not saying I don't think they'd ever get together - this is just one possibility in a world of infinite possibilities.