Current mood:

pensive

Scorpius definitely wasn't one to dwell on things, never. He rarely ever thought about something twice. He didn't care, remember? But this time, with Rose, it was different.

Seeing her face, vulnerable, as he stopped Polaris from attacking her cut to his heart in a way he most certainly didn't appreciate. He wasn't allowed to fall for Rose Weasley, not after he had told his brother that he wasn't allowed to date Lily Potter. He wasn't allowed to think that her eyes were particularly pretty, or that her hair was so very red against the white backdrop of Hogsmeade, or that she smelled nice. Or that her hands were soft when he healed her fingers.

He wasn't usually one to take walks in the cold, either, but he was thinking. And the cold helped him think. He stopped on the bridge, drawing his cloak tightly around him and adjusting his scarf and hat. He needed to cut Rose out of his life before he began to actually develop real feelings for her, because real Malfoys don't fall in love. (Polaris doesn't count.) They fall in convenience, and if love comes, it's always bought, not earned.