A/N: This short little moment between Scorpius and Rose got stuck in my head and I thought I would share it. I would love to hear feedback. One shot for now, but if y'all enjoy who knows...

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sigh.

Friday, September 2, 2022

Scorpius Malfoy had learned a lot about red hair over the past six years.

One certain type of red hair to be precise.

It wasn't like Lily Potter's dark auburn hair, which she kept poker straight and immaculate at all times. Nor was it like little Dominique Weasley's swishy strawberry blonde locks or even Molly and Lucy Weasley's orange waves. It was certainly nothing like the ill-suited, blood-like red which Ivy Parkinson had charmed her hair over the summer.

No, it wasn't like any other shade of red hair he had seen before. Vibrant and attention grabbing, the color was as red as her name suggested. And it was atop her head that a mass of uncontrolled, bushy curls emerged and cascaded down to her waist. It was as untamed and fiery as her temper, which flared often.

He spotted her reflexively in the hallway, which emptied quickly as the bell for the official start of sixth year rang.

"Oi, Red!" He drawled. He did not mean to attract her attention quite so loudly, however his voice had become considerably deeper over the summer and carried down the long corridor.

Regardless of volume, his greeting garnered the desired effect and she spun around, her blue eyes narrowing with annoyance. This specific nickname, he had learned, riled her up and earned him her undivided attention, even if only for a few minutes.

"I thought we discussed you calling me that, Malfoy," she hissed impatiently as she continued determinedly walking towards the library for her free period. A futile effort, he thought, as his long legs overtook her gait easily.

Their squabbles had become so commonplace over the years that no student tried to eavesdrop as they once did. They slipped into their perspective classrooms, leaving the corridor virtually empty.

"What would you prefer instead, Weasley? Ginger? Fireball, perhaps?" He teased lazily.

He relished this time, any opportunity to be near her really. His focus shifted from her hair to her face as she turned to give him her best withering stare. She had exactly sixty seven freckles spattered across her cheeks, nose, and forehead.

There was one in particular near her ear he found himself distracted by on more than one occasion. He was drawn to it more so than the others, for he could only see it plainly when she flipped her unruly curls impatiently away from her face. It made him fantasize about all of her other freckles hidden from his view.

Focusing even more closely now, he observed two of the freckles on her forehead converge as her eyebrows crumpled towards each other, the corners of her lips twitching slightly downwards. She was weary of the suggestions he proposed.

His lips quirked in the opposite direction into a supercilious lop-sided smirk that made most girls swoon but inexplicably seemed to have the opposite effect on her.

"Clever, Malfoy but I think we can stick to our surnames." She huffed testily, fidgeting with a hairband on her slender wrist. The thin gold bracelet given to her by Thomas Finnigan during fourth year was noticeably absent.

"I still prefer Red," he commented with what he hoped conveyed airy indifference and not the crackling intensity that always surged through him when near her. His eyes kept darting towards her wrist. He tried not to stare too long with blatant curiosity.

"My hair is copper, I'll have you know," she snapped back, impatient with the whole conversation. She tucked a section of curls behind her shoulder. He was rewarded with a view of the freckle near her ear.

Without thinking, his hand twitched slightly to reach out towards her hair. As quickly as he started, he stopped. As if a shield charm had been cast, his hand stilled, torn by some internal dilemma.

His eyes flashed suddenly, with an emotion she couldn't quite catch. Reaching a decision, he leaned towards her and moved a stray curl away from her ear. The strawberry scent of her shampoo became overwhelming. The pad of his thumb grazed along her jaw line over the freckle and down to her chin. She closed her eyes.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Rose," he murmured into her ear. "I don't call you Red because of your hair." He heard her breath hitch and felt her shiver delicately.

He released her before temptation swept him any further, like nipping at that freckle near her ear.

He strolled off in the opposite direction they had been headed without another word, leaving her slightly dazed.

It was the first time he had called her Rose. But more importantly, her normally creamy, pale skin flushed a brilliant rosy red.

Yes, Scorpius Malfoy had learned a lot about red hair over the past six years. But he didn't call her Red because of her hair.