Trigger warning: attempted suicide. Scorpius Malfoy has landed himself in St. Mungo's because he was tired of being alive; Rose Weasley is recovering in the bed next to his from a Quidditch injury. Surprisingly, they come to find out that they might actually have something to offer one another.

It was dark when Scorpius opened his eyes, just as he had expected it to be. His mouth twitched into a small smile as he took a deep breath, the first breath of a new beginning. As the sixteen-year-old moved his arms to stretch, unexpected pain shot through them, sending him to a halt.

That's funny, the boy pondered with a frown, a tiny dent forming in between his blonde brows as he thought. Wasn't the point of death for there to be no more pain, no more suffering? That's what Scorpius had always thought, and he found that even in this afterlife, he couldn't tolerate being wrong.

"Lumos."

It was a whisper, coming from somewhere off to the side. Following directly after the spell, a small light appeared to the right of him, and Scorpius turned his head to see a familiar face. Well, not really her face—just a curtain of the frighteningly red hair that seemed to pop up everywhere at Hogwarts.

But even though there seemed to be an army of gingers walking around, Scorpius could always pick Rose Weasley out of a crowd.

Finding his voice, the Malfoy questioned, "Rose? How in Merlin's name did you die?"

The girl jerked in surprise and turned to look at the boy to the left of her, snapping the book on her lap shut as she did so. Her eyebrows were stretching towards her widow's peak, over crystal blue eyes that were wide with surprise. "Malfoy? Are you bloody mental? We're not dead."

Malfoy. Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy. He couldn't stand the name anymore, and Scorpius nearly moved his hands over his ears in an attempt to block his own bitter thoughts. Instead, he said, "Don't call me that." It sickened the boy to hear his voice—the voice that was usually so cold, so uncaring—crack with suppressed emotion.

"Call you what?" Rose questioned, unaware of what she did wrong. "'Malfoy'? That's your name, is it not?"

"Just… Just call me Scorpius." It took every ounce of self-control to keep his voice monotone; he'd spent most of his childhood putting on a mask of confidence and indifference, so why should he stop just because he wasn't quite sure what was going on? "And what do you mean we're not dead?"

"I mean exactly that," the Weasley responded, sounding a bit sardonic. "We're in St. Mungo's. God, Mal- Scorpius, you must've hit your head pretty hard, however you landed yourself in here."

"Trust me, head-hitting wasn't a part of it." Or at least he didn't think it was; maybe he hit it when he was unconscious. Scorpius didn't know how the hell he was alive, let alone what had happened in the time frame between his failed attempt and waking up alone in a strange room with his academic rival. "So, St. Mungo's, huh? What floor?"

"Ground," Rose answered, turning her body a bit so she could get a better look at the boy in the opposite bed. Scorpius squinted as her wand flashed directly into his gray eyes, but as he went to shield them with his hand, he thought better of it. He could see that her right cheek had skid marks and bruising on it, but other than that, Scorpius couldn't see anything wrong with the Gryffindor. He could see Rose looking at him in the same way, but by the confusion in her eyes, the boy could tell that she didn't have a clue as to why he was there. He wanted to keep it that way. "So what are happened—have your wand backfire on you?"

Scorpius propped himself up so he wouldn't be the freak that held conversations while lying down; he was considered an outsider in every other aspect, and he didn't need one more to add to that list. "I'd really rather not say. What about you—cauldron blow up in your face?"

Rose shook her head, and he couldn't help watching the way her red curls bounced. It made her look almost… pretty. Scorpius bit his lip to keep from scowling; after years of listening to his father rant about Weasleys, how on Earth could he actually think one was attractive?

The girl almost didn't want to tell him how she got admitted, since he wouldn't tell her his reason, but Rose could see something a bit different in his eyes that made her leave the subject alone. "Fell off my broom."

His eyes widened before the boy could stop them. "Rose Weasley fell off her broom? I think the world is ending."

With a slight laugh, Rose rolled her eyes. "I was pushing for speed while doing an exercise with some bludgers. I wasn't looking and one knocked off the front of my Nimbus before I could beat one away, and I went down. Most pain I've ever felt in my life, and I lay there, dodging still-active bludgers for about an hour before Hugo found me. A few got decent hits on me. I dropped my wand during the fall, so there was nothing I could do. Dad found it twenty feet from me."

Scorpius grimaced in sympathy pain; he knew how much it hurt to fall off a broom or be hit with a bludger, but he was never badly injured enough to have to be admitted to St. Mungo's. There was a short silence before the blonde asked, "About what time is it?"

"Three in the morning," Rose answered, twirling a red lock of hair around one finger. The atmosphere was beginning to get a bit awkward, and neither of them knew what to say. "So have you ever played Quidditch? I know you're not on Slytherin's team, but…"

"Yes, I play," he said with a sad smile. "Beater, actually." It was one of the many ways the two were alike (though at this point, they both thought that they were polar opposites).

"Wasn't your father a seeker?"

"And wasn't yours a keeper?" Scorpius shot back, unable to keep the hostility out of his voice. He knew that she hadn't meant it in a bad way, but the boy always got snappy when his father was brought up.

"Hey, Malfoy! Talk to your Death Eater daddy lately? I bet you've been plotting the next wizarding war with him, you pathetic bastard—"

"Watch that tone, Malfoy," she snapped back, Weasley temper igniting. Scorpius flinched at the use of his surname, and Rose grinned, feeling a bit of sadistic pleasure that she would be sickened by later; maybe, she'd think, the Sorting Hat was right and Slytherin was a good match for her. "Oh, you don't like that, do you? Malfoy. Malfoy. Mal—"

"Please shut up," the blonde pleaded, his voice breaking once again. "Malfoy's don't beg," he heard his father say in his head, and he felt the sting of a slap to the back of his head. Scorpius had been asking for a trip to Honeydukes; they had come out with a new chocolate frog card, and he needed it for his collection. "It's demeaning. You ask for what you want, and if they don't give it to you, make them do it. And in this case, just shut your ungrateful mouth and show me some respect."

Shaking his head, Scorpius found himself turning and lying back down. I just want to go back to sleep and not wake up; is that too much to ask? "Don't you get it? I hate being a Malfoy. I despise it." He found a lump had settled in his throat, and his eyes started to sting. Do not cry, you weak little git, Scorpius snarled at himself.

When Rose spoke again, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she felt bad. "Scorpius—"

"Just leave me alone," the boy interrupted. "You never had a problem with ignoring me at Hogwarts, so why such a sudden interest now?" He hated how the shake wouldn't leave his voice, and lifting a hand, he bit his knuckle until it bled as he tried to block everything else out.

But Scorpius could still hear her say quietly, "Because you seem so sad."

"—healed the vertebrae the best we could, but she's still going to need physical therapy if she ever wants to play Quidditch again. Learning how to walk again is going to be enough trouble, let alone getting back on the broom. It'll probably be another two years, at least."

Scorpius didn't recognize the voice that cut through his sleepy haze, so he figured that the man speaking was a Healer. The disembodied voice had the tone of a Healer: soft, reassuring, sympathetic. The boy figured that the man didn't actually give a shit; it was just a font that was required for his job.

"But I'm Gryffindor's Quidditch captain," a girl's voice said softly. Rose, he identified immediately. Her voice seemed different from usual—instead of the confidence and semi-sarcastic bite, it was unsure and devastated. "It's my first year. I need to be there for my team."

"Well I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, but I don't think that's going to happen," the Healer claimed, still sounding empathetic. "You could possibly do it during your final year, but even that's a long shot. Maybe you should look for a less strenuous hobby, like knitting or—"

"I don't want to learn to knit!" Rose snapped. Scorpius could hear shifting sheets, and a murmur of, "Calm down, Rosie." The girl didn't calm down, though, and she just continued fuming. "I want to play Quidditch! It isn't a bloody hobby; it's the best thing in the world!"

"Thank you, Hillbridge," an older male voice dismissed, cutting off Rose. If Scorpius had to guess, he'd say that the man was her father, the famous Ron Weasley. "I know you've done all you can.

There was a slight pause before the Healer said, "A nurse will be back with your anti-pain potion in a little while. I wish you a speedy recovery, Miss Weasley."

"Thanks," Rose said in a monotone, and for a moment, she reminded Scorpius of himself.

The door clicked shut, and there was movement on the other side of the room. "Rose, it isn't as bad as it could have been," a female voice that wasn't the girl in the hospital bed soothed. "We thought that there was a chance that you wouldn't be able to even walk again. This… this is so lucky."

Without opening his eyes to see Rose's expression, Scorpius could tell that "lucky" was the last word the girl would use to describe herself. Instead of voicing her feelings, she said in that same emotionless tone, "I guess you're right, mum."

There was a bit of an awkward pause, and Scorpius figured that it was time to "wake up", so he wouldn't have to lie there pretending to sleep for a few hours. Instead of stretching as he normally would—he still wanted to hide his forearms, even more so now that he was in the room with Ron and Hermione Weasley—the boy just sat up slowly and looked to the table next to his bedside to grab his wand.

To his surprise, the thirteen-inch hawthorn wasn't there. Frowning, he checked to see if it was in his clothes somewhere. When he found that he was in a pocketless hospital robe instead of the clothes he had been wearing, he was a bit irked, even though he knew that his old clothes were probably stained with blood.

Turning to where Rose's family was seated (just the immediate; Scorpius didn't know what he would do if he found himself in a room full of gingers who hated his guts), he questioned, "Good morning; have any of you happened to see a wand lying around?"

The entire family flinched at his voice and turned around to look at him; it seemed that they hadn't been aware of his presence, save for Rose, who smiled weakly at him. "I haven't seen it, sorry."

Ron narrowed his eyes and a frown tugged at the edges of his lips. "You're Malfoy's kid, aren't you?"

Scorpius twitched, and the polite smile that he had placed on his face fell right off. "It's always 'Malfoy's kid,' or 'that Death Eater's brat,' isn't it?" he muttered, pulling the sheets off of his slim frame and getting out of bed. He took a moment to get his balance before striding from the room, leaving the bewildered Weasleys behind without another word.

Since he wanted to find his wand, the Reception area seemed a good place to start. As Scorpius walked down the hallway, confident mask in place, he got a few strange looks from Healers and anyone else who happened to be passing. He could see the same revulsion in every expression, the hate in their eyes. Malfoy.

The boy clenched his fists. He was so bloody sick of being compared to his father in everything he did. At first, Scorpius had rebelled against his father when he started at Hogwarts, except for one thing: the Sorting Hat was going to put him in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor until he intervened, saying that he had to be in Slytherin. The words the hat had uttered after that still were stuck in the boy's head to that day, and he hoped desperately that they were still true.

Slytherin? From what I've seen, Mr. Malfoy, you are nothing like your father.

Scorpius tried to make friends at first, but the first people he tried to talk to completely ignored him, and the next group shoved him down the stairs. What really made him give up was when a girl called Clarissa came up to him and hexed him. "Your grandfather killed my grandparents."

Though he'd never admit it (and he'd probably hex the first person that suggested it), the boy had done a lot of crying during his first year; his father had warned him that people weren't going to be accepting, but he had no idea that it was going to be so horrible.

So, Scorpius created a mask. Normally, he just stayed out of everyone's way. He spent most of his time learning spells to help defend himself against bullies that were always finding new ways to torture him. When he was threatened, though, he used his wit to try to outsmart his tormenters, and faced them with disgust and hate.

"Scorpius, what are you doing out of the ward?"

That cold voice—so familiar to him—stopped Scorpius in his tracks. The boy turned to see his father, emotionless gray eyes that mirrored his own, staring at him. Something , though was hidden under that bored-looking mask of his, though the man's son couldn't tell exactly what. Steeling himself, he responded, "I was going to ask if anyone had my wand."

Draco pulled the wand in question out of his robes. Just as Scorpius reached for it, his father retracted his hand and stuck the Hawthorn back into his robes. "I'm not supposed to give it to you until you're deemed… stable." The man's lips curled into a sneer at the word, and with a sigh, he began, "Do you have any idea how much trouble this little attention stunt has caused me? I've had to bribe three newspapers to keep them from running stories on it; I have to lie about why I'm taking a day off of work; your mother keeps checking on me for updates, since she won't be back from Romania for another two days. I know I wasn't the most loving father, but I didn't think I raised you to be weak."

"I'm not weak!" Scorpius exploded, unable to keep his mask in place. Heads turned in their direction, and Draco quickly cast muffliato so they weren't overheard. "You have no fucking clue what being related to you and your own sodding father has done to me. If my surname wasn't Malfoy, maybe I would actually have friends. Maybe I could go to Hogwarts without staying in the infirmary more than ten times in a term. Maybe… maybe I would have let the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor like it was going to. But no, I sacrificed my own happiness so you would be proud of me. And it wasn't enough!"

"Stop right there," Draco cut in. "I never said that you had to be in Slytherin—"

"Oh, you didn't?" the boy questioned with an incredulous laugh that seemed a bit hysterical; now that he was finally giving his father a piece of his mind, Scorpius found that he couldn't stop. "'Since history was recorded, all Malfoys have been in Slytherin, Scorpius. You wouldn't want to stop the family legacy, would you?'" he quoted. "Every time Hogwarts ever came up, you always started going on about how great Slytherin was, especially now that 'all of those Death Eaters are gone'. I don't know if you've forgotten, but you were a Death Eater!"

"It was a mistake!" Draco roared, getting red in the face. "It was a mistake that I've paid for my entire life, one that I've spent years trying to correct to no avail. That's why you need to rebuild this family; I will never be trusted, but maybe you could be." The man had run out of steam, and he just stood there for a moment, looking so tired while pulling at his sparse amount of blonde-gray hair with a bony hand. "You've always been a better person than me, Scorpius. I know… I know I didn't coddle you in the least when you were growing up, and I instructed your mother not to either. You want to know why? It's because I knew that it was going to be so damned hard for you when you left the Manor and went out into the real world, because all anyone would care about is the Malfoy at the end of your name. You needed to be tough. I know that you'll go on to do great things Scorpius, because you are much more brilliant than your mother and I ever were, and you don't have the remnants of a Dark Mark still on your arm. You needed to be strong—"

"Well what if I don't want that much pressure on me?" Scorpius broke in, his voice cracking. "God, Draco, you could have made me strong without distancing me from everyone and hitting me when I did something wrong. Because of this ordeal, you have to have some idea of how much I hate myself. But I'm done now. I'm done with you, I'm done with 'Malfoy', and I'm done with everything."

With that, Scorpius turned on his heel and walked away.

The Weasley Clan was still there when he got back to the room that he was sharing with Rose. They all turned to look at him as he entered, and while Ron, Hermione, and Hugo put his bad mood as a side-effect of being a Malfoy, Rose knew that something was up. "What happened?" she asked as he passed her and plopped down onto his bed gracelessly.

"My father, that's what bloody happened," he muttered, just loud enough so she could hear. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, unsure of what was going on. Before anyone could say something else, a Healer came in.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, striding over to him. The woman seemed a bit wary of him, as if he was going to bite her head off if she tried to talk to him. Clearing his mind, he morphed his expression so he had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Please call me Scorpius," he requested. "Mr. Malfoy is my father."

Though he really didn't want to remind himself of that fact, making a corny "joke" lightened the atmosphere a bit, and the Healer felt comfortable enough to step a bit closer. After casting muffliato over the area so the Weasleys wouldn't overhear (Scorpius assumed the only reason that it hadn't been used during Rose's visit earlier was because everyone thought that he was asleep), she said, "You're not really a normal patient, so we didn't know where to put you in terms of wards. Is this one suiting you alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, not forgetting his manners even when he was ready to either punch something or cry.

The Healer smiled tightly. "Good, good. So, I had one of our interns run to a Muggle pharmacy and pick a bottle of these up, since your father refused to have you transferred to a Muggle hospital where they could probably meet your needs better." Uncapping the little orange bottle, the woman poured two capsules into a small white cup and handed them over. "Take them with this," she directed, waving her wand and Conjuring a glass of water. "You'll be taking two pills twice a day for two months, and the prescription can be extended, if you require more."

"So… what are these, exactly?" he inquired after taking them; he probably should've asked this before, to make sure that they weren't poisoned, but seeing as he wanted to die anyway, the poison would only help.

"Muggles call them anti-depressants," the Healer said, checking something off on her clipboard. "They increase the serotonin levels in your brain, which helps get rid of the negative thoughts that you've been experiencing. Now, in a couple of hours, I'm going to send Miss Reyes in for your psychological assessment. Is that alright?"

"Just wonderful," he said, smile still in place.

She seemed a bit unnerved. "Right. So, I'll be going now; just holler for Mediwizard Collard if you need anything." With that, she deactivated the spell and exited the room.

Scorpius let his façade drop immediately. With a sigh, he threw the sheets over himself so the prestigious Weasleys wouldn't have to look at a pile of scum.

As the ginger clan was leaving a few hours later (and on top of the previous three, a lot of the others had joined them), Scorpius's shrink came into the room and requested that he come with her to her office. The boy did so obediently.

Night had fallen by the time Scorpius got back to his shared room. Miss Reyes had been a woman in her early thirties who had just graduated from med school with a degree in psychiatry at a Muggle university, and her constant bubbliness and jovial attitude made the boy want to punch her in the face.

But, he was able to quell those impulses and talk with her civilly, making sure that everything that came out of his mouth was exactly what she wanted to hear. If he could keep that up, Scorpius figured that he'd be out of there in no time.

Also while he was there, a Healer had come in and finished the healing that they had already started on his arms. There were no longer bandages covering the two gashes on his pale forearms, and looking at them made Scorpius feel sick.

When he got back, he found Rose reading. From his angle, he could see the title: Quidditch Through the Ages. It was one of Scorpius's favorite reads, and by the worn cover and crinkled look, he could tell it was as well loved as his own copy.

Scorpius went back to his bed, sitting with his legs crossed as he stared into space. After a few minutes of that, the girl's voice broke him out of his stupor. "So where did you go?"

The boy started, surprised that she was actually starting a conversation with him, and shrugged. "Psychiatrist."

Rose's eyes widened; she wasn't expecting that. "What for?"

"…And that's where I stop answering questions on that particular subject," he said nonchalantly, as if his stomach wasn't hurting him just thinking about it. "What've you been up to without yours truly as company?"

"Reading," she answered, a bit disappointed about the lack of an answer and even more curious. There was a slight pause before Rose said, "I could tell you were upset about something earlier, and you mentioned your father… Care to talk about it?"

Scorpius opened his mouth to decline her offer, but instead, he found that he didn't want to reject; there was just something about talking to an almost-stranger about personal issues that appealed to him, and he wasn't the only one who felt this way.

"Well… I was going to look for my wand, and I ran into Draco into the hallway." Rose raised her eyebrows as he referred to his father as "Draco", but didn't comment. "We sort of… fought a fair bit. I was just sick and tired of having to agree about everything he says and groveling for forgiveness when I don't. This is going to sound really stupid, but he doesn't love me. I mean, I shouldn't care—"

"Of course you should; he's your father," Rose cut in, but he continued as if he hadn't heard her; now that the boy had started, he didn't think he could stop.

"—but I do, and I'm so sick and tired of having to keep my opinions to myself. At first I just wanted to make him proud, you know? Doesn't every little kid want that? So I made the Hat put me in Slytherin, even though I would have been so much happier somewhere else, so everyone hated me. Half of the Slytherins rejected me because I refused to bully people for no reason, and the other half hated me because people in my family gave Slytherin a bad name. I kept trying to make friends, but—but it was bloody impossible! I hated the fact that whenever I went to bed and thought about things, I'd always realize that no one cared about me, and I just wanted to die. I was lonely and miserable for years, and when I finally decided to do something about it, my git of a father says that I've 'inconvenienced him'. I just…" Scorpius quieted, embarrassed that he had blurted out so much. He could feel the Weasley's blue eyes on him, judging him. The boy wanted to scream out his pain and frustration.

"I care about you," she said, almost so soft that he didn't even catch it. Scorpius looked over at her quickly, trying to see if she was just joking, but her expression seemed sincere and her cheeks were beginning to color. "Our friendly rivalry was one of my favorite things about Hogwarts."

Scorpius blinked. "What rivalry?"

Rose looked surprised, and Scorpius tried not to think how cute that looked. "That one where I beat you in Transfiguration, Charms, and DADA while you beat me in Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy; it varies in the other classes…" She trailed off, sounding unsure.

Stunned was the only word that Scorpius could find to describe the emotion that came after this tidbit of information. "So… you think we've been competing all of these years?"

The ginger now looked just as confused as he did. "Haven't we?"

He barked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "I never thought so! I thought that you just wanted to beat me in everything 'cause all I am is a bleeding Malfoy…"

Rose's sheepishness was obvious. "Well… that's sort of how it started. My dad pointed you out to me on the Platform on our first day. He told me to beat you in all of our classes. When it turned out that you were just as smart as I was I, well… I started to respect you. Beating you is what made me push myself to do better, and after that first year, I started getting more interested in you. That's when I stopped thinking about beating your arse into the ground and decided that we were rivals. I guess, now that I think about it, it was pretty stupid." She was blushing tomato red to the tips of her ears.

"…I've never felt respected before," Scorpius said quietly, embarrassed about all of this feelings talk, even though he started most of it.

Even in the semi-darkness, the boy could see her smile. "There's a first time for everything. And M- Scorpius, to tell you the truth… I think you're going to do great things one day. You really are a brilliant wizard."

Now Scorpius was sure that he was blushing as brightly as she was. "Thanks, Rose. Just… thanks."

He felt as if he should pay her a complement back, but what could he say that she didn't already know? She would have probably been told a million times how smart, brave, cunning, funny, beautiful—

Stop right there, Scorpius; she's just pitying you, so don't get your hopes up.

With a sigh, the boy rolled over and tried to fall asleep.

Scorpius woke to the sound of a loud thud on the linoleum floor. Cracking open his silver eyes, he was met with darkness; it must have still been nighttime. Sitting up and rubbing his head, he searched for the source of the noise.

And he found it almost immediately. Rose's wand was on the small table in the room, its tip shining a small light that barely illuminated the sparse room. The girl herself was trying to take a few steps forward, but she instantly lost her balance and fell.

"Goddammit!" she sobbed, tears slipping down her face as she beat a fist on the floor in frustration.

Within a second, Scorpius was out of bed and hauling the girl off of the floor. She looked surprised by his actions and even more astonishment entered her expression as he cupped her elbows, helping her keep her balance. "We're going to do this together, okay?" he said softly, his gray eyes showing nothing but kindness.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Rose said, trying to push him away. "I don't want your help."

Scorpius almost let go, almost let her drop to the floor in a heap. But, somehow, he was able to put a cap on his pain and kept a firm hold on her. "Stop being stubborn," he commanded. "You're just going to hurt yourself even more if you keep falling. You won't be able to do this alone, and I figure that a slimy snake like me is better than falling an hitting your head."

Rose's protests quieted instantly, as she could hear the suppressed emotion in his voice. "I'm sorry, Scorpius."

The boy offered her a weak smile. "It's no problem. Now, I want you to take a step forward as I step back."

She took one step, following his instructions. Then another. On the third, she faltered, but Scorpius managed to keep her steady. "I've got you," he reassured her as she tensed up. "You can trust me."

It was completely strange, what was happening between them.

A/N: I'm not too sure when I'll be able to finish this; I'm really busy with school, marching band, and community theater. I was going to post the entire thing as a big one-shot, but I decided to split it into a couple of parts.

This is my first time writing in a male perspective, so I hope I did Scorpius some sort of justice. This is also my first time writing in JK Rowling's beautiful world (Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series), so please tell me if I got anything wrong. I hope that you'll give me any praise or criticism that you can offer in the form of a review. Thanks for reading!