Little things we notice
Summary: Rose/Scorpius one-shot fluff and angst. A bit drabbly- their relationship as seen from other characters POV. Written mainly because my other one-shots have fallen by the wayside and I needed to write something fairly short again to get back into the habit! Nothing whatsoever to do with my ongoing multi-chapter fic about them, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to play with the characters now and again.
Rose Weasley has a million freckles, Scorpius notices. Lots and lots of freckles of the very palest brown that remind him of wet sand on a beach. They're sprinkled merrily over the bridge of her nose, on her high cheekbones and on the other patches of her creamy skin not hidden by her Hogwarts uniform. They were one of the very first things that Scorpius noticed about her that day on Platform nine-and-three-quarters four years ago and he still can't get them out of his head, much as he tries to. He knows his dad would have a fit if he knew. Needless to say, he likes the freckles, even if he doesn't like her. Rose Weasley is bossy; a frizzy-haired, far-too-freckled, over-achiever. Her only saving grace of course, is that she's passably pretty. If Scorpius liked that sort of thing, which of course, he doesn't.
Scorpius Malfoy has a million girlfriends, Rose notices. She knows this because she sees him striding over the Hogwarts grounds with a different girl on his arm nearly every single week. Sometimes they're brunette, other times blonde, but she has yet to see him with a redhead. That suits her just fine and she's actually pleased by the fact that she's so obviously not his type and he can apparently discriminate when it comes to the opposite sex after all. She'd never want to be with a Malfoy anyway given what she knows about them and especially not him. Scorpius Malfoy is smug, arrogant and thinks he's gods gift to women. Maybe he is, but Rose certainly doesn't want to find out first hand for herself. No way.
Albus Potter gets his unusually sharp perceptiveness from his mum and he sometimes notices things, the little things that perhaps other people around him don't. Albus for example, sees the long, lingering glances his best friend Scorpius casts over at his cousin from their Slytherin table every single day in the Great Hall. The looks he has been darting at her since their third year at school, much as he ventures indifference whenever she's actually near him.
He also notices the way that Rose always pretends not to be looking back, lowering her eyelids until she is sure Scorpius has concentrated back on his plate once more, before lifting her head and freely letting her blue eyes roam over his face.
Ron Weasley has noticed that whenever his daughter is home from Hogwarts she's full of chatter about her friends, her studies… Rose is flourishing and it makes him smile to see how happy being at the school makes her, yet he and Hermione cannot help but notice that if there's one thing guaranteed to bring a scowl to her pretty face it's the very mention of fellow prefect Scorpius Malfoy.
Part of Ron (a very small part admittedly) feels guilty for so obviously inciting the second-generation feud between them and continuing to do so throughout Roses' years at Hogwarts; after all the boy might be nothing whatsoever like his father and Albus is friends with him after all so he can't be a total lost cause. Yet despite himself, he does feel a certain glee that Rose obviously has the younger Malfoy pegged as an arrogant, egotistical prat. There'll be no danger of anything happening there. The very thought of a Malfoy and Weasley together makes him shudder, even though Hermione scolds him and cautions him to let Rose choose her own friends.
Hermione Weasley has noticed that whenever Rose scowls or makes a disgruntled face if the name 'Scorpius Malfoy' is mentioned, it's usually because James or Albus have said it in conjunction with another female student at Hogwarts. Roses' rolled eyes turn stormy blue and her lips draw into a tight smile as she tries her best to ignore her cousins gossipy chatter. Hermione doesn't have to wonder why her daughter minds the mention of Scorpius' girlfriends so much, she knows that Rose will figure it out for herself eventually. All in good time.
Draco Malfoy has noticed that his son just hasn't been himself lately. Ever since he started this bloody job at the Ministry of Magic, he's brooding and sullen, almost perpetually irritated by the slightest little thing. The answer as to why is confirmed for him the Thursday afternoon they're drinking at The Leaky Cauldron and Rose Weasley casually walks inside, her arms entwined with one Michael Finnegan. Scorpius splutters indignantly, almost spilling his fire whiskey down his robes as his face grows hot, a look rather unbecoming for a Malfoy and Draco tells him so. Scorpius mutters something under his breath, consciously forcing himself to look away from the seemingly idyllic pair.
Draco hides his slight smile in his goblet, yet can't help noticing the way the pretty redhead cannot stop glancing over at their table either. This is an interesting new development indeed and he wonders if the Weasel knows of his Weaselette's affections towards his son.
Rose notices that Scorpius makes a highly concerted effort to avoid her at work, which is somewhat hard given that they share an office now. The powers that be must have really wanted her to suffer in her new role in the Department of Magical Transportation. Had she had it her way, this office-sharing malarkey would never have been the case, but as Scorpius spends most of his time out at meetings and liaising with co-workers (most of them women, no doubt) she has the small space very much to herself and this suits her just fine. So, it is something of a surprise the Friday morning when she arrives, early as usual, and sees Scorpius already sulking at his desk. He barely acknowledges her presence (he never does), shuffling a thick stack of documents, his eyes tightly glued to his parchment, yet the tension in the room is rife, heavy with unspoken accusations.
Rose merely ignores him and concentrates on opening her inter-departmental memo's instead. She notices however after that day, that Scorpius always seems to be in their office yet doesn't stop to question why.
Michael Finnegan for one, noticed the spark between Rose and Scorpius long ago, even when they were at school together and spent most of their time ignoring one another, and was baffled that she agreed to go out to dinner with him instead. Somehow he's not entirely surprised when she ends their brief fling and he's much happier again when he notices that the leggy secretary in the 'Misuse of Muggle Artefacts' department has been eyeing him up. Rebound? Perhaps, but he notices that when he takes her out, all her attention is indeed on him and not on another man seated in a corner, brooding over his fire whiskey and trying desperately not to look back at them.
He wonders fleetingly, when Rose and Scorpius will bloody get together.
When Albus notices that Scorpius hasn't been out with any other women in almost a year, he idly voices his thoughts to Rose over dinner late one Monday evening in muggle London. Rose too has noticed Scorpius' distinct lack of female company of late and Albus is unsurprised at the pink blush that rises in her cheeks at his idle comment. "I've noticed," she admits quietly, before changing the subject and shovelling in her spaghetti once more.
Rose notices that whenever Scorpius is concentrating on his parchment, his brow creases and he bites on the end of his quill in a way that is utterly distracting to her. Her eyes remain fixed on Scorpius' full mouth, that these days seems to be decidedly more smiling than scowling. Rose hates herself for realising that over the past few months that she has come to know every minor, insignificant characteristic (flaw or otherwise) of Scorpius Malfoy and wishes desperately that she could just STOP watching him. She doesn't even like him really, though admittedly she realises that she doesn't quite hate him anymore either. She wonders when things started changing then decides that it doesn't actually matter; the important thing is that they have.
Rose is watching him again, Scorpius notices as he fiddles with his quill, straining with the effort of not glancing back up at her from his cluttered desk. She's been doing that a lot recently he realises, and he also notices that slowly, slowly things seem to be changing between them. The glares and stilted silences have faded and now the atmosphere in the office seems to be almost comfortable between them. Sometimes she meets his own tentative smiles with one of her own when she hands him spare ink, a roll of spellotape… shy smiles that do strange things to his stomach and make him forget for a split second where he is. If Scorpius didn't know any better, he'd deduce that he has some kind of feelings for Weasley, but that is of course ridiculous… isn't it?
Years of longing and pent-up sexual tension literally explode the Friday evening when Rose catches Scorpius' eye as she gets ready to leave the office and she pinkens under his unwavering gaze. She pulls on her outer robes, untucking her wayward hair from inside her collar as it snags on the red and gold fabric. Unthinkingly, or maybe thinkingly, since Scorpius if fully aware of what he's doing deep down, he stands up to help her, his eyes never leaving hers.
Rose flushes scarlet at the feel of his warm fingers on her neck as he gently loosens her curls. "Thank you," she says meekly, tilting her head up to his, uncertainly.
Scorpius doesn't respond, instead taking full advantage of the unnaturally close proximity to study the sweep of her dark eyelashes and that sprinkling of freckles across her nose, as between his fingers he twirls strands of her auburn hair. Rose stiffens at his touch, but mercifully doesn't pull away. The fresh scent of apple shampoo suddenly floods his overloaded senses and he simultaneously sucks in a gasp of air, startled at the wave of longing that washes over him. "Merlin," he says harshly, almost desperately, as he finally gives in and presses his warm lips to hers.
Rose would have to be blind and completely impervious to touch not to notice that Scorpius is a skilled lover, and to notice afterwards that he seems somewhat unwilling to leave her embrace. She realises with sudden shock, that that's absolutely fine by her.
As his long fingers slide deliciously across her bare skin onto the full crest of her breasts and beneath the delicate curve of her waist, she notices that he seems to be mouthing something under his breath.
"What are you doing?" she asks him, bewildered, sitting up and eyeing him searchingly amid the rumpled sheets, his exploration of her body set aside for now as she breaks his flow of concentration.
His pale cheeks flush under her scrutiny as he looks up at her. "Counting your freckles," he confesses, propping himself up on his elbow.
Rose is startled; "why?"
"Just because…" he mumbles self consciously; his white-blond hair tumbling into his face as he ducks his head; "…I like them."
Rose hugs her knees as suddenly she understands his double meaning and his need to so intimately catalogue and reference the specific parts of her body- he suspects that this may be his only opportunity to do so and is tentatively awaiting a further sign from her; "oh," is all she says, at a loss for words now, for she isn't exactly sure about them either. How can she be? They've spent so long being encouraged to dislike each other that this new... situation between them is a bit bloody scary.
Scorpius bites his lip then as if sensing her hesitation and she notices his shoulders suddenly slump; he moves to slip out of the bed and that's when she sees the hot blush burning up his aristocratic cheekbones. He reaches for his tailored trousers which are haphazardly lying on her bedroom floor.
"Where are you going?" she asks him, cutting into the awkward silence that has suddenly flooded her darkening bedroom. She reaches out a slim arm, catching his hand. She's not sure what she's doing but the thought of him leaving makes her heart hurt and her breath catch alarmingly in her throat.
He lifts his head uncertainly and the disappointment in his grey eyes is still evident; "I thought--"
Rose pulls him back towards the bed, noticing the way his eyes flicker across her skin warming her down to the very tips of her toes; "then just stop thinking. For a little while anyway…"
Though his brow is furrowed and his eyes are now unreadable, he obliges.
"I don't want you to count my freckles today," she whispers as he hesitantly slides back between the sheets.
"No?" his warm breath skates over her skin as she shivers appreciatively, goosebumps already forming a path there, where the air ghosts over. She notices how happy this makes her feel.
"No," Rose confirms sleepily, snuggling closer to him now and feeling reassured, "save it for another night."
She registers the hope in his eyes at that and feels the brush of his lips against her forehead; "ok," he murmurs softly, and she knows with a pleased certainty that he definitely will.
A/N: Please review! :)