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Scorpius and Rose had been rivals since day one. They were rivals in Albus’s friendship, rivals in house points, rivals on the Quidditch Pitch, and rivals in class rankings. It was so common for their classmates and friends to see Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Wealey glaring at each other from across the dining hall, that hardly anyone even noticed anymore. It was simply an everyday occurrence, a routine, a pattern that, if broken, would change the simplicity of Hogwarts life from then on. And it was universally agreed upon by every single person at the school for witchcraft and wizardry that the day Scorpius and Rose stopped glaring was the day they realized that they actually liked each other.
This is the story of that day.
It started as any other for Scorpius Malfoy who had been caring for his 6th year herbology assignment for the last eight months. It was almost time for his shrivelfig, which had grown perfectly purple in his months caring for it, to be turned into Professor Longbottom for grading. And then he would finally be ahead of Weasley in class ranking for the first time all year.
Scorpius added a tiny drop of water to the soil in the flower pot, pleased to see the purple of the fruit turn just slightly more vibrant in the few seconds after. He ran his palm over the galaxy of stars that decorated the flower pot, a sad smile gracing his face when he thought of his mother hunched over the pottery wheel painstakingly crafting the work of art in front of him now.
He missed her.
Sighing deeply, Scorpius righted himself and went about readying for the school day, his shrivelfig left to sit in the top window of his Slytherin dormitory where its leaves could drink in the last of the morning’s sunrise.
Scorpius clapped Albus on the shoulder as he squeezed by him to grab his toothbrush in the 6th year boys bathroom. “Morning.”
“Mornin’, mate,” answered his friend of six years, the words coming out garbled around the toothpaste foam coating his mouth.
“Ugh, rinse before you speak. Barbarian,” grumbled Scorpius.
Albus chuckled, little specs of foam hitting the mirror above the line of sinks in the process. He pulled Scorpius into a side hug, leaned over, and spit into Scorpius’s sink. The blond tried to escape the bear hug to no avail, cringing away from the sight. “You are disgusting— stop it,” Scorpius screamed as Albus laughed like a hyena, choking on the remaining foam that slipped down his throat, and acting like he was hacking up a lung right into Scorpius’s ear. “You are the worst!” the blond complained, finally shoving Albus off of him and glaring at the dying man through the mirror, arms folded across his chest. “Why are you like this?”
Albus shrugged and shot Scorpius’s reflection a toothy smile in the mirror. He turned on the faucet to wash away the spit up. “Because you love me anyway.”
“I do not love you,” Scorpius responded affectionately. Both boys grinned. “Anyway, I’m gonna be late for breakfast,” continued the blond as he spread toothpaste on his own brush. “Save me a seat?”
“‘Kay.”
Twenty minutes later, Scorpius had his shrivelfig under one arm as he headed out of the dormitories and up to the first floor. He’d taken that staircase a thousand and one times. He knew that stairwell like the back of his own hand. He knew every dip, every crevice, every loose stone. But fate must have had plans for that day, because Scorpius tripped and the shrivelfig in its galaxy pot went flying and―
Scorpius stared at the shattered pot at his feet, soil spilling out onto dark stone, his heart ceasing to beat in his chest for several moments. He couldn’t even breathe. Eight months of work. His perfect assignment. His mother’s flower pot.
He heard the echo of footsteps before he saw her shoes come into his line of sight. “Oh my gods, what— Scorpius? Hey Scorpius?”
The blond knew he recognized the voice, knew he recognized the shoes as absurd as that sounded. He would recognize almost everything about her, but his mind couldn’t even muster up any concrete thoughts other than, “My shrivelfig... My flower pot... My shrivelfig... My flower pot…”
“Scorpius, hey, look at me. Look at me.” Two smooth palms cupped his cheeks and forced the blond’s gaze away from the massacre. His gaze swam for several seconds. He was dizzy and he vaguely thought he might be sick. And then her face came into focus.
Rose.
“Hey,” she said soothingly, a thumb running over his cheekbone as their eyes met. “It’s okay. We can fix this. It’s okay.”
Have Rose’s eyes always had flecks of gold in them? I’ve never noticed before.
“I―” Scorpius choked on the syllable, his throat dry from the panic. He swallowed and licked his parched lips. “I― my mum… she, uh― she made that. Can it be repaired?”
Rose’s gaze darted to the shattered flower pot and then back to Scorpius. “Yeah. Yeah, we can fix it. We can fix it.”
She was still cupping his cheeks, running her thumbs comfortingly across his freshly shaved face. For some reason Scorpius decided to copy the gesture, his hands coming up of their own volition to hold Rose’s face delicately between his palms. Rose gasped, her lips parting so perfectly as they stood in the empty stairwell holding the other, staring into each other’s eyes in a way they had never done before.
It was so easy for Scorpius to lean in and capture his lips with his own.
They were both shocked by the sudden press of lips, the gryffindor and slytherin freezing, as still as the stone beneath their feet. But after a beat they both melted into it, a renewed energy coursing through the pair. They acted as if they’d been kissing like this every day of their entire relationship rather than spending it glaring at each other from across the room.
Scorpius pulled back, his eyes wide and terrified as he waited for Rose’s eyelids to flutter open. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He couldn’t believe he wanted to do it again.
All that fear melted away when Rose finally met his gaze once more. She was so beautiful.
She smiled so prettily, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “Umm… so, yeah… that was...”
Scorpius snorted, an embarrassed smirk twisting lips. “Yeah that. Uh, I…”
Rose’s smile brightened. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed another brief kiss to Scorpius’s lips, before leaning back once more. Scorpius stepped closer and let his hands fall from her face to wrap his arms around her waist. She fit so perfectly in his embrace. He should have been holding Rose like this all along.
“So… were you serious about being able to fix the flower pot?”
Rose giggled. “No. Sorry. Forgive me?”
“I do not forgive you,” Scorpius responded affectionately, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind Rose’s ear. They both grinned. “Help me save the plant and I might, though.”
“Was that your herbology assignment?!” Rose asked, looking at the wilting shrivelfig, aghast.
“Yeah, and it was perfect,” Scorpius enthused. “It was so perfect and I was going to pass you in class ranking with that perfection. I’m very upset.”
Rose let her grin turn feral. “I don’t think I will help you, actually. Maybe next time you shouldn’t be so clumsy― aah!”
Scorpius lifted the girl around the middle, laughing as she struggled to escape his grasp. “You are so annoying, Weasley.”
“Put me down, Malfoy. You are the worst!”
They liked each other.
***
Scorpius’s assignment didn’t receive a perfect score. But he still kept the plant in the new pot Rose made for him for the remainder of his school years. And after they got married, it moved into their new home with them.
It was so perfect.