A/N: So this was supposed to be released as a New Year's Oneshot, but here it is: only a month late.
Props to Coldplay for the lyrics. Et, enjoy.
Was a long and dark December
From the rooftops I remember
There was snow
Clearly I remember
From the windows they were watching
While we froze
If you love me
Won't you let me know?
The snow was fluttering down outside Rose Weasley's window in thick, fat clumps. The wind would swirl the flakes around every few seconds, sending them spiraling against the panes. Rose smiled sadly as she pressed her fingers to the icy glass and watched her cousins playing outside on the frozen lake.
The scene down below looked like it belonged in a snowglobe. Albus and James were charming snowballs to shout obscenities at each other from opposite ends of the pond, Hugo was skating around on the choppy ice, and the Scamander boys were flirting with a blissfully ignorant Lily.
And there on a small snowbank, he sat, the breeze toying with his shaggy hair, the cold flushing his pale cheeks a delicate pink, absorbed in the realms of the book he was reading.
Rose Weasley let her gaze linger on the boy before slowly letting the curtains fall back.
The sky was in one of those limbos, when it was too light to be considered night yet, but too dark to be considered evening. Scorpius Malfoy wedged a bookmark into the novella he wasn't really reading and thought about how awful his father was for making him be around the Potters when they clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
Hell, he wanted nothing to do with them.
He sighed and got up, brushing the snow off of his pants. From above, he saw a shifting in one of the windows of the old Potter house.
Looking up, he saw her, her auburn hair glistening against her face. Her eyes, the same shade of grey-blue as the frozen lake, rested on him for a few seconds before disappearing back into the darkness.
Rose Weasley trudged out into the snow, bundled up in atleast five layers of clothing to protect her from the temperature.
"Guys!" she called once she had reached the lake. The boys payed her no heed. "Guys! Aunt Ginny says to come in and get ready. We have to go in a few hours!"
Albus and James begrudgingly got up. Despite being sixth and seventh-years at school, Albus and James acted more like ten-year-olds than anything else. As all of the Potters filed inside, Rose caught a glimpse of platinum blonde. She reached out and grabbed a fistful of the connected sweater.
"Scorpius," she called, hesitating slightly. He turned to her, raising his eyebrows. "Are you... Are you coming?"
"The New Year's Eve Gala? It's later tonight at the Scamander mansion..."
"Oh. I wasn't invited," he responded curtly and turned to leave.
"Well," Rose called after him, "I'm inviting you." Scorpius paused, a few feet away.
"Then maybe you'll see me." he said without turning. A beat later, he was gone.
Rose pulled a sheath of sleek green satin off of the teetering tower of dresses that her mother and Lily had constructed on her bed. She held it up against her body and posed in the mirror for what must have been the thirtieth time this hour.
"I'm telling you, Rosie," Lily said, from the leather armchair next to the dresser," That dress looks awful on you. You look like a decaying Christmas tree."
"I'm so sorry," Rose snapped in response, "that we can't all look perfect in every thing we decide to wear!"
"No need to be so moody," Lily sniffed, but said nothing more.
Fourteen dresses later, Rose held up a lavender concoction, which weighed atleast ten pounds from the heaps of toulle, sequins, and ribbons.
"Don't" Lily deadpanned suddenly. "Don't even try that on, unless you plan on going as the Sugar Plum Fairy."
Rose sighed. "Nothing is good enough, I mean, I don't even know if..." Rose widened her eyes suddenly and bit back the what she was going to say.
But it was true. She didn't know if he was coming. And she didn't know why she cared so much. It's not like they were great friends, or really friends at all.
"Know if what, Rosie?" Lily prompted, searing her with a suspicious look. But Rose had already buried herself in the tumultous mountain of fabric again, dismissing Lily's question with a hasty "Oh, nothing, nothing!"
"This!" she exclaimed finally, extracting a silk gown in a mesmerizing shade of cerulean. It was long and simple, with a large, glimmering, crystal-studded ring holding up the halter straps. She pulled it on herself quickly and turned to Lily.
"Rosie!" the latter exclaimed, scanning her up and down, "You look enchanting!" Rose whirled on herself to look at herself in the mirror. And Lilly, as it turned out, happened to be wrong.
Completely wrong, in fact.
"This dress is the worst!" wailed Rose as she tried to flatten what, in this dress, appeared as an pouch of fat where her stomach should be. Lily suddenly appeared behind her and pinned her arms to her side.
"You're paranoid, Rosie. You look beautiful, and he's going to love it."
But before Rosie could ask who he was, feign confusion, or insist that she wasn't trying to to impress him at all, Lily was gone.
The Scamander Mansion was built completely out of the money that Luna and Rolf Scamander inherited from the latter's prolific ancestor. Newt Scamander was positively legendary, as was the lump of cash he left his grandchild. And in turn, they constructed the most lavish, beautiful, expensive house that could have ever been devised. Its only possible rival was, of course, Malfoy Manor.
But what Malfoy Manor triumphed in with sophistication, the Scamander Mansion compensated with size.
Size, as in huge, large, grand, completely and obnoxiously big-ass.
It sat atop a rocky precipice that it had all to itself, and the only way to the door was via a poetic-looking pathway that cut right through the snow-covered trees and landscaping. In front of the arched entrance nested an enormous fountain, the water of which had been enchanted to freeze in place, the droplets suspended in midair. It was really quite beautiful.
But nothing compared to the white marble exterior, or the roaring warmth of the house inside. Everything glistened in pristine order, and house-elved marched around, serving hors d' ouvres on silver platters.
Rose, however, thought nothing of the house's beauty as she anxiously eyed the dapper guests who were milling around. There seemed to be people everywhere, and it vaguely occured to Rose how many invitations must have been sent out for such a large mansion to be so full.
Full of so many smiling, haughty, arrogant faces. So, so many, but not one of them was the face she was looking for.
Rose had looked everywhere. She had searched all five levels of the Scamander Mansion, and every time she thought she had spotted the tell-tale flash of platinum blonde, she would find that it was only Luna, or one of the Scamander boys.
And she would try not to let disapointment get the worst of her.
After all, it's not like she expected him to come.
There were less than twenty minutes left of the year, and Rose Weasley hadn't found Scorpius.
But just thinking his name, just admitting that yes, she kinda-sorta had a thing for him made it somehow seem better. Like she had accomplished something.
But nothing palpable, she reminded herself. And it was true. An accomplishment wasn't real unless it could be framed.
Rose stumbled up to the top floor balcony, the one that overlooked the twinkling crystal pools and the white-blanketed topiary, and rested her elbows against the cool marble railing.
She felt deflated, defeated, dissapointed.
"Weasley," a cool voice drawled behind her. And like an apparition, there he was.
"Scorpius!" she gasped, so surprised that she didn't even realize she had said his name.
"You know, Weasley. You can look for something all you want, but you'll generally find it when you're least expecting it." Scorpius walked in, with that aura of nonchalance he always had hovering around him. Rose felt her cheeks stain red and wrapped her arms around herself, hoping that she could pass her blush off as the cold nipping at her skin.
"I...I-I don't know what you mean," she stuttered.
"It wasn't you looking for me?" he asked, feigning actual sincerity. Rose looked down at the frozen pool and said nothing.
There was a long pause.
"You could go back now, if you want," Rose said quietly. "It's nearly midnight..."
Scorpius looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Why would I do that?"
It was Rose's turn to be surprised. "Well, because, I... I-I just , I mean I assumed you didn't wan't to-"
"You assumed wrong," Scorpius cut in smoothly. "I may be arrogant. But I was raised with more manners than that. I mean, you are the one who invited me..."
"Oh." Rose smiled stiffly, and tried not to let her heart get too heavy with the fact he was only being polite by staying with her.
"You know, Weasley, there is something that every person should experience before they die."
"And what is that?"
Scorpius turned to her, a glint in his eye.
He smiled so enchantingly.
"FIVE!" came a semi-drunken chorus from somewhere beneath them as the large crowd counted down to midnight.
Inside her head, Rose secrety agrees with this number, as Scorpius is so close that she can now count the four freckles that grace his face.
Rose Weasley had never before realized how beautiful Scorpius Malfoy's eyes were. They had always seemed so cold and hard, but from here, in the soft moonlight, they seemed soft and intense.
Scorpius Malfoy smiled inwardly. Rose looked so vulnerable, standing with out a coat on the chilly balcony. He debated leaving her there, just for laughs.
But then he found out that he couldn't have moved if he tried.
Hell, he couldn't have moved if he wanted to.
He is so close that she can feel her presence puncturing his bubble of haughtiness.
She was so close that he could taste the air around her, taste her presence...
The cheers from the first floor were deafening. There was confetti raining, fireworks bursting in the sky.
But Rose heard nothing of this.
Because she was standing there, kissing Scorpius Malfoy.
And Scorpius Malfoy? He was definiteley kissing her back.
She broke away and looked at his molten-metal eyes.
"Happy New Year, Rose," he said softly, and with that he was gone.
But Rose didn't blink wildly, or even look around for him. She didn't question whether the night had happened, or if the moment had really been shared.
Even as Rose slid into the house, she could still feel his touch against her neck, his voice lingering in her ear. She looked up and smiled.
"Happy New Year, Scorpius," she said. She saw him look down at her from his perch atop the chandelier, looking mildly surprised, but mostly amused. He winked at her and disappeared again, this time to somewhere, Rose was sure, outside of the house. She smiled vaguely at how predictable his unpredictability was becoming.
Rose Weasley found that she just couldn't stop smiling. And the surprising part?
Neither could Scorpius.
Yayyyy... A oneshot X)
I was working on this during the last few days of December and then kind of forgot about it...
I logged on for the first time in about a month and saw the story just sitting there, collecting dust.
So, I mean, sure it's a bit outdated... but whatever.
The next chapter of the Diaries is set for about Fridayish? (my birthday!)
Soooo. A review would be nice *hinthinthint*