Hey, Scorpius...

Do you remember when we first met?

Or maybe I shouldn't say first. By the incident I'm referring to, we had been in the same house for bordering on three entire years.

Do you remember that? That time at the end of our third year? Professor Longbottom wanted to start up a duelling club – he said that even though Voldemort's gone, that's no excuse to not be able to protect oneself. Do you remember thinking how ridiculous it was for the Herbology professor to start a duelling club?

I do. I remember everything about that night, how I was so nervous that my wand almost slipped out of my sweaty palm, how my tie seemed to be choking me like never before.

I remember how you bumped into me on your way past, how I was so startled I fell over. I remember how you turned around to see what you'd done as I let out a small "Oh," how your gaze first scoped out eye-level and only then turned to the ground to see me sprawled there. You held out your hand to help me up, and I took it, and I was only thirteen but I swear I felt sparks.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy," you told me.

"I know," I said, "We've been in the same house for almost three years. I'm -"

"Rose Weasley," you said. "We've been in the same house for almost three years."

"Right," I said with a small laugh. "Erm." You laughed, too, just as professor Longbottom called the first official meeting of the unofficial duelling club to order. We were all impressed at his skills, and then we all felt stupid as we remembered that professor Longbottom had a large part in the Battle of Hogwarts.

The next day, you came to sit next to me in the library, and I got butterflies in my stomach. You didn't make a big deal of it, but we were friends. By the end of the term, best friends.

Do you remember the first time we got detention together, in fifth year? We were the new Ravenclaw prefects – big surprise there, as everyone from my mother to the caretaker said – but we weren't exactly pure as the driven snow. We liked our fun, and sometimes said fun included things that weren't exactly legal. Things like bewitching Headmistress McGonagall's goblet to meow every time she picked it up at the Halloween feast. Those were the days... Everyone knew it was us, of course – if it hadn't been obvious from the way we were laughing like madmen, the fact that most of the meows seemed to be saying "Go Ravenclaw!" would have made it blindingly clear. Not to toot our own horn or anything, but none of the other Claws would have had the guts. Do you remember our class? Timid little bookworms, all of them. It must have pissed them off to no end that we were the best two in our year.

McGonagall gave us detention for that little trick, but nothing else. I thought it was because my parents were war heroes, and you told me to get my head out of my arse. Do you remember that? You said it was just because the old woman loved you. You always were her pet.

I knew it then, when we were scrubbing my dad and Uncle Harry's Awards for Special Services to the School, and when we moved on to cleaning and drooling over the ancient Quidditch Cup. I knew it from the way I felt when your hand brushed mine when we were dipping our rags in the bucket of cleaner that smelled like Muggle sinks, and from the way I had to work to keep my voice steady when our eyes met. I knew it, and I chastised myself for it – it was pathetic! – but I never mentioned it.

Do you remember when you went to the Yule Ball with Lily in sixth year and I didn't speak to you for over a month? You thought it was because I was mad at you for breaking our let's-not-go-to-the-Ball-pact. I was mad at you, yeah, but not because of the fact that you were going to the Ball – don't you see? It was because you were going to the Ball with Lily. I let you believe that you were being punished for being an oath breaker, because I didn't want to acknowledge the truth, never mind that I had known it for over a year.

Do you remember what you did to get me to talk to you again? I believe it involved a bunch of singing cupids in the Great Hall on Valentine's day. Remember how I was crying when you got on your knees and proclaimed your love for me in front of the entire school? It wasn't because I was embarrassed, or because I was so relieved to finally be back on speaking terms with you, or whatever other bullshit reason I gave you. It was because you were, completely without realising it of course, making a mockery of the only thing I ever wanted. Remember how, through my tears, I tugged you to your feet by your collar and hugged you so tight you swore you heard a rib crack? That was me, living a life I could never have. That was the most bittersweet moment of my life, to date.

Do you... do you remember when you crashed into that tree on your broom? It wasn't even the Whomping Willow or anything, just a regular old oak. There was a sharp branch that – that stabbed you in the eye, remember? Remember how I always told you to wear goggles when you flew? You brushed them off as useless, as cramping your style.

This next part you probably don't remember, but I do.

I remember how a Healer Apparated to my house, how they told me about your accident. You were lying in a coma, they said, and the only thing you had said since they found you was a name – my name. They told me I should probably follow them to St Mungo's, and I did.

They took me aside when I got there, and said the situation didn't look too good. They said that the stick that poked your eye out most likely hit your brain, and that there are things that even magic can't cure. They said... they said I should say my goodbyes, and that I should call your parents.

I did, and they came... but they were never good under pressure, you know that, and so they spent most of their time sitting in the waiting room. They came to see you, and said, all the right things, but they couldn't make themselves stay.

So I did. I stayed, Scorpius, and I sat with you as your breathing became shallower and shallower, as your face slowly turned pallid and grey, until you finally stopped breathing. I sat with you and held your hand, for the whole time, and I knew; and it was killing me as surely as you were dying in front of me, but I never said it. I talked about everything and nothing for hours on end, but I never mentioned that I love you, not once.

The Healer took me away from you, eventually. I followed her, docile, like a sheep. She led me past your parents in the waiting room – your mother broke into hysterics when she saw my face, because it must have been clear – and out of the door, and I Apparated to school, the first place I could think of.

I sat under the big tree by the lake for hours. The sun set, and rose again, and I couldn't feel any of my body parts any more.

I couldn't feel anything. I just sat there, staring straight ahead. I didn't cry. I didn't think. I didn't feel.

School was out, so it took them a while to find me. It was Albus who eventually did, of course – we had always been close. He knew how I thought. I didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge him as he sat next to me, until we had sat there for another hour at least.

"I never told him," I said, and it was like the straw that broke the camel's back, because after I said that came the tears. First one, then a few more, and then they were pouring down my face like never before. "I never told him," I said again, and even to my own ears my voice sounded lost, like a little child out in the big scary world without his mother.

I never told you, and I'm going to regret that for the rest of my life. But I'm telling you now, because I believe that you can hear me, wherever you are. I don't know if it will make a difference, but I need to tell you.

I love you, Scorpius Malfoy. I've loved you ever since the beginning of fifth year at least – Merlin knows probably longer – and I will love you until the end of time. Not telling you when you were alive was the biggest mistake I've ever made, and this is all I have left.

I have to believe that you will know.

I have to believe that you love me too.

I love you.

Yours, Rose

A tear fell to smudge her name as Rose folded up the letter with fingers stiff from writing. Getting up from her perch on the stone cemetery bench, she walked unsteadily to Scorpius's grave, still smelling of fresh earth. She crouched down next the headstone, tracing the words with her finger: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, 2006 – 2025, beloved son.

Rose placed the folded letter at the base of the headstone and got out her wand.

"Incendio," she whispered, and the paper caught fire.

A single tear slid down her cheek. "Goodbye, Scorpius."

A/N: Well, hello. My grandmother was telling me weepy stories about her friends taking flowers to her parents' graves when she's too far away, and it put me in a weepy mood, so I wanted to write something weepy. Tell me if I succeeded, yeah?