"You are a stupid, arrogant, little git!" I scream, leaning closer to his pale face as I did so, ensuring that he's reaping the full benefits of my rage. I turn on my heel and began to storm down the corridor.

He doesn't appreciate it. "I'm stupid and arrogant?" he asks me, outrage clear on his face, "You're a fine one to talk!"

I spin around quickly. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Hm, let's think about that one, shall we? Who was it that had a go at poor Quentin Finch-Fletchley because he didn't know that mandrake root can cure those who have been petrified?"

"That's because everyone knows that! Even Hugo does, for Merlin sake." I've changed my mind about walking away from him and am now striding towards him instead, "And why did you say 'poor Quentin'? You cannot actually be feeling sorry for him?"

"Weasley, you practically attacked him in class!"

I scowl and lift my chin by an inch. "I did not attack him, that trowel just slipped out of my hand, okay? It was obviously an accident."

"Yeah, sure," Scorpius mutters, his words dripping with sarcasm. He's stuffing his hands into his pockets – probably to stop himself from hitting me or something.

A growl escapes my lips before I can stop it. Yes, I actually growled. "You're so bloody… pathetic! Walking around the castle like you own it! Do you not know how frustrating it is to see you sauntering down the corridor with that stupid mate of yours?" I begin to do an exaggerated expression of his walk. Okay, so maybe he doesn't walk exactly like this, but I think I'm getting my point across.

He grabs hold of my arm and yanks me towards him, "And do you know how frustrating it is to be partnered with little miss perfectionist? And William isn't"- now he's snapping his mouth shut. There was no denying his friend lacked in brain cells.

I smirk, happy to have gotten something right even if it had been a pitiable little snipe. I wrench my hand out of his grip. "Well, don't worry about it Scorpius, because I am never going to partner with you again! Even if the teacher does threaten us with detention for not doing what he says. I would rather… gouge my own eyes out rather than work- no, make that rather than spend a single second longer in your company!"

I turn on my heel once again and stomp along the stone-walled corridor towards the stairs that will eventually lead me towards the Gryffindor common room. Today had been utterly rubbish from when I had breakfast and split pumpkin juice all down my jumper, to being partnered with Finch-Fletchley and that idiot in Herbology.

It's not the fact that he's in Slytherin. Being sorted into a house now was merely a formality for winning the house cup and sorting out the timetable for students. The rivalries (outside of Quidditch) between the houses had died years ago. No, it was the fact that Malfoy and his bunch of cronies got under my skin, at seemingly every chance they got.

Kerry has told me plenty of times not to let him get on my nerves so much – but that's not possible with the daily jibes and pokes. In fact, Kerry has once or twice suggested that it was as much my fault, as it is Malfoy's. But how stupid is that? I mean, it's blatantly all his fault.

I can hear him now, calling my name. But I'm not going to react; I'm not going to turn around just so we can get involved in yet another slanging match. I should be in Transfiguration now, but I'm not going to go – not in the mood that I'm in. All I want to do is get back to my dormitory and take a long, hot shower to calm myself down. Or maybe scream into my pillow and punch a wall.

My right hand is running along the banister, and as I'm turning around a corner of the staircase I run a hand through my short, red hair. It's short as in; it reaches to my shoulders, just. I would like it longer, but it's just more practical and easier to have it at this length. For instance, where it takes me half an hour to get ready for the school day, it takes Kerry almost twenty minutes to just do her hair. I can't be bothered with all that, and by that I mean make-up and stuff. I'm here to learn, not to impress the opposite sex.

It's Kerry that always gets the attention of the male students anyway, not me – and not that I'm complaining either. Whereas she wears her clothes tight, so they show off her curves perfectly, my jumper is a size too big (not that it's my fault exactly, Dad ordered the wrong size. At least it wasn't as bad as Hugo's, the sleeves of which fall way past the end of his hands). And, Kerry seems to have been born with the ability to naturally be able to walk in heels, which she does every day. Apparently to her, the shoes she does wear aren't even that high, but I could only manage to teeter around the room when I tried them on. It's not like I really care anyway, stupid heels. I'm happy with my own flat shoes thank you very much.

"Weasley!"

I hate the way he says my name. Or rather, the way he says my surname. I mean really, how childish is that, to call me by my last name? Okay fine – sometimes (most of the time), I call him Malfoy but that's just because Scorpius is such a stupid name. Who calls their kid Scorpius anyway? Was it some kind of joke?

He had better not be following me. I glance through the gap between the stairs. He is! I roll my eyes and start climbing faster up the stairs. I'll reach the portrait before he does and just slam it in his face. He won't be able to get in then.

"Rose, do not walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"

"That was you talking to me? I would hate to hear it when you were shouting at someone," I yell down the stairs at him.

He's stopped now, and is looking up at me. "What are we going to do about this project? I cannot afford another detention."

"Not my problem," I reply, and then begin to tread up the stairs again.

I hear him sighing. "Rose! Don't be so bloody childish!"

"Me?" I ask, stopping yet again and looking down at him. He's on the floor below me now. His blonde hair is dishevelled and his tie has been pulled loose. He could at least try looking as if he's made the effort to look smart for school.

"Yes, you!"

"If you are so worried about the project then you and Finch-Fletchley can continue without me. I'll probably get a much better grade working by myself anyway!"

"See!" he yells, pointing up at me. I lean over the banister so I can get a better look at him. "This is exactly what I mean about you being arrogant. You think you are so much better than everyone else just because you get 'fantastic grades'. Don't you know how annoying you are?"

"I'm annoying? That's rich coming from you."

But I'm not going to get muddled up in this argument again. I swear the whole school probably knows what characteristics of his annoy me, and vice versa. He starts up the stairs again, and so do I, but quicker this time.

"Just leave me alone!" I scream, "I don't want to look at your face, let alone speak to you ever again. I'm going to get transferred out of the classes we are in together – every single one of them!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake," I hear him muttering. But I don't care.

I don't care if I sound stupid or if I'm over exaggerating. Surely mum and dad will understand, I mean, they went to school with his father. They'll have some idea about what it's like to spend time with a Malfoy. Although, every time I do bring the subject of Scorpius Malfoy up at home, they always say that he isn't as bad as his father – I find that hard to believe. Not that I have ever met Drake, or Draco – whatever his daft name is.

"Miss Weasley?"

Oh shit, it's McGonagall. I look up, and there she is, standing a few steps away from me. How could I not have seen her? Has she been listening to every word me and him have been saying to each other? My only hope is that she hasn't been standing on the staircase long. I mean, it's not like we were shouting that loudly.

Okay, maybe we were.

"Is there a problem?" she asks me, in the mildly sarcastic tone that teachers use when they blatantly know there is a problem.

I push a loose strand of hair that has fallen in front of my face to behind my ear and take a few calming breaths. "No Professor."

Her eyebrows arch slightly, as Scorpius appears, trudging up the stairs behind me. He stops, so he's standing on my left side. He shoots me a glare, which lasts less than a second, before looking up at McGonagall.

"And what about you, Mr. Malfoy, have you got a problem?"

"I've got a pain in the arse," he mutters. I think he's implying I'm the pain in the arse.

She either doesn't hear him, or refuses to take any notice of it. "Well?"

"No. Professor," he adds as an afterthought.

"Then why, may I ask, are you both out of lessons?"

"I don't know," I answer meekly. I hate getting shouted at by the professors. "I just don't feel well. I'm on my way to my dorm."

"If you aren't feeling too well, perhaps you should go to the hospital wing," she suggests, but I know she doesn't believe me.

"No. I mean, I just need a nap or something. It's just a headache. A throbbing, annoying headache," I add, fleeting a glance to Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asks him.

He struggles for an answer. "I was just… I needed to talk to Rose."

"'Talk'? What I heard was not talking. Tell me, what topic constitutes shouting through the corridors at the top of your voices? Well?"

"We both just got a little frustrated about this project we're doing for Herbology," he answers.

I scoff. I can't believe he can be so casual about it. "Not anymore."

"Excuse me, Miss. Weasley?"

"I said, not anymore. I'm not working with him from now on."

I figure, this is as good a time as any to tell her about wanting to change classes. There's no point in pretending nothing is wrong, when later on I was going to go and talk to her anyway. She'll understand.

"Well Miss. Weasley, I'm afraid that it isn't up to you whom you partner with on school projects."

"But I"- I begin. She's not seriously suggesting that I continue working with him? "I want to change classes. I"-

"I don't think so. I'm not altering your lesson schedule, just because of a little argument. Now, I will see the both of you tomorrow afternoon, straight after lessons," she says, and then walks past us and down the stairs.

"Detention?" I ask, walking around Scorpius to get a clear view of her, "But I didn't do anything!"

"I can't have another detention," he says, "My father will kill me."

"Tomorrow afternoon," McGonagall confirms. She doesn't even bother to look at us; she just keeps descending down the stairs.

I scowl at Scorpius, shake my head and jog up the stairs. When I reach the top, he catches up with me, grabs my arm, and walks around me so he's facing me.

"This is all… your… fault!" I shout, ripping my arm away from him and then hitting him to amplify every word.

Scorpius places both of his hands onto my upper arms and holds them close to my body so I can't move them anymore.

"Just calm down," he orders.

"I will not calm down," I say, pushing him away from me.

But I underestimate his strength, and it stands firm against my pitiful shove. I wobble on the top step. My heart skips a beat. I know I'm standing with the staircase I've just come up behind me. Shit. My mind is rushing, yet everything is going so slow, as if we've been put on slow motion.

"Rose," I hear him saying, but it sounds weird, like I'm under water or something.

I feel him grabbing at me. He manages to catch hold of my hand, but it's too late. I already know that I'm falling. His grip isn't yet tight enough to stop me.

And now it's suddenly going so fast.

Everything it spinning.

I can hear shouting, but I don't know who it is. I try to grab hold of something, anything, but I can't.

It's all going too fast.

And then nothing.