So inspiration hit and I stayed up too late writing this while listening to a load of Ingrid Michaelson. It may sound funky in the morning, but let me know what you think!
Just a bit of warm and fuzzy feelings, I like those. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters or world, they are Ms. Rowlings and hers alone.


Scorpius Malfoy lay completely still in his bed staring at the ceiling in the private dormitory. He was careful to not allow his muscles to twitch or to make any sudden movements. He wouldn't even allow himself to breathe too deeply; the last thing he wanted to do was wake her. If he woke her, she may not stay, and that would positively break his heart. Right here, where they were, was perfection. He could not recall how many times he dreamed of this moment, but here, while he was lying so motionless, he was trying to count those moments.

The first time he'd ever really looked at her that was during the first week of their third year. Before and even on that day he had been consumed with erasing the black mark that was staining his family name, consumed with being the opposite of what people assumed a Malfoy would be. However some traits were impossible to rid himself of, such as the private personality and the tendency to be too sarcastic or crude. This girl was not intimidated by his isolated inclinations. When they had Care of Magical Creatures together, she had walked right up to him on the first day with a smile on her face and an extended hand, unfazed by the fact that he was standing in the back completely avoiding the rest of the class.

"I'm Rose; I'm also without a partner. Can you help me with that little problem?"

He had been so taken aback by her forward nature he'd only been able to shake her hand and nod. He could remember to this day the color of the shirt she'd been wearing underneath her grey sweater and Gryffindor colored tie (green), and the way she'd done her flaming red hair (curled and pulled back in a matching green ribbon). She didn't push conversations on him or toss snide looks his way when he started writing their analysis of Pogrebins without her.

"What would you like me to do? I will not allow you to do all of the hard work without me, that's what a partner is for," she had stated calmly, plopping down next to him on the green and folding her soft, white hands.

He remembered being nervous, not wanting to insult the first truly interesting girl he'd spoken to at school. But a question was unavoidable, he had to talk to her even after all he'd said to her during class was "please" and "thank you".

"Um…you can write up the different ways to defend yourself against one…if you want…" He stumbled across his words and felt his cheeks getting hot.

She had nodded and smiled. "See," She'd said, peeking under him in between the page and his face, looking into his eyes. "I won't bite if you talk to me."

He had never been anxious around a person that he could recall. If he didn't want to talk to someone he usually just ignored them, due to the fact that unless they were one of the few people he trusted they probably wanted to remind him how terrible his grandfather was or say something else nasty. This girl was different, she did not care about his family or their past, and she accepted him from the start. She had been the first person to give him a clean slate, the first to let him write his own story without the transgressions of his ancestors.

When people in class would whisper about him, only able to see his grandfather when he was there, she would remind him how ignorance is the biggest incurable disease that people tended to suffer from. She didn't draw unnecessary attention by feeling the need to defend him and "save" him from the people's rumors; she would just comfort him and be there when he needed to let some of the frustration out. She was everything and everyone he never knew he needed.

"They made me go there for Christmas, to hishouse. And if that wasn't bad enough, the bastard came with them to pick me up. Everyone saw."

He had been so angry that year, when he was fifteen. Lucius had been at the train station, cane in hand, greeting his grandson with nothing but a curt nod and inviting the stares of knowing strangers. The blonde hair inevitably would stand out, and when it had been on the front page of The Daily Prophet in a mug shot people tended to notice. He hated being associated with it and standing next to Lucius made him want to puke. He had barely been able to walk with them, and even then couldn't control his clenched fists from shaking.

"I'm so sorry, you did not deserve to feel on display like that," she had mused, grabbing his hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I would never make you feel like anything foreign that didn't belong."

She then leaned forward, closing the gap between them and reached for a lock of blonde hair that had fallen in front of his eye. She smoothed it back, a simple gesture that made his heart skip a beat. It had been the first time she had touched him as something that could have been described as romantic. He could still feel her fingers on his forehead and could still smell her strawberry shampoo. Even reminiscing of that moment still sent chills up his spine and butterflies into his stomach.

The friendship they had formed after the day she had been so bold in class was one to challenge all friendships. She was everything someone could ask for in a best-friend. She was a vault for his secrets, a form of therapy, a pair of arms to hold him. She quickly became his closest confidant after that day when he told her his first secret - that he asked to be put into to Slytherin so as not to disappoint his dad. She was the perfect amount of girl and boy, completely able to play Quidditch with the guys and would still be able to sew the hole shut in his jeans when he skidded them on the ground diving for the snitch.

There was nothing about this girl that he didn't like, except for her annoying ability to retain and recite information like an encyclopedia.

He felt himself reach for a red wave, but recoiled his fingers quickly when her resting frame shifted. She turned over, a small smirk on her sleeping face, and snuggled into his side. He felt his breath catch in his throat as her arm wrapped around him.

It wasn't like he'd never been with a girl before. There'd been a time at the first Yule ball where he and his Slytherin group of friends had drank too much firewhiskey and gotten too carried away with spin the bottle. Fiona Parkinson had been all over him and they went further than he had intended. But this was different. Being with the girl you'd loved for almost five years was bound to be different, inevitably magical.

Feeling her against him didn't just warm his body; it warmed him down to his soul. He felt the surge of happiness each time her one of her fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, as if she was holding on and would never let go. He finally allowed himself to move, resting his arms around her.

They fit around each other perfectly.

He let himself release a sigh, the most content sound he'd made in years. He instantly regretted letting the emotion out when her eyelids flickered and then opened. Her brown eyes gazed at him sleepily before she pulled away and sat up.

"What…how…did I fall asleep?" She murmured groggily while rubbing her face.

He instantly looked down, ashamed by the physical barrier that felt as if it had been broken. "Uh…yeah. You did."

She chuckled and stretched, reaching down to the floor to grab her oversized textbook. "I guess I can just blame Professor Clearwater for not making Advanced Transfiguration more interesting, sound good to you?"

He forced a nod and got off the bed, making his way to his bag all while chastising himself internally.

Stupid git, you could've sat with her for hours, but you had to grab at her, and now it's over. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He turned around, melting at the sight of her. She was perched on the bed with a curiously sad look painted on her face. Her hair was wavy with her side swept bangs falling smoothly in front of her eyes. The old (vintage) Chudley Cannons jersey was falling over to one side, exposing a creamy, freckled shoulder. There was a slight line across her cheek from where she had laid on a pillow crease; he found it increasingly adorable. He looked the floor, knowing if he kept looking at her like that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from pulling her into his arms.

"Back to my common room, I don't think I'm supposed to be in the Head Girl quarters at two in the morning," he said, attempting to joke with her like he didn't feel his heart aching for her.

Her brows furrowed and she wrapped her arms around her knees. "Okay…but we barely covered switching spells and she said specifically that there would be a practical element covering those on the exam."

Of course she's thinking about school, she couldn't possibly think of you as anything other than her buddy, her best-friend.

He shrugged, the nonchalant act hurting more with each passing minute. "I'll just cram for it I guess. You shouldn't be worried; you're easily the top of the class."

You're perfect don't you see it.

"Scorpius," she said softly, blinking her eyes slowly like a doe. "Come here. What's bothering you? School can wait, just talk to me."

She could always see through him. He couldn't hide from her and it drove him crazy. If she could read every other thought that ran through his mind why couldn't she realize how he felt about her? Why didn't she know how he yearned for her every minute of every day? How could she not see how he would do anything to hold her that close one more time?

Even though every fiber of his being wanted to walk out of the door and keep their relationship quiet and uncomplicated he felt himself walking back to the bed and sitting down on the opposite side. He dropped his bag to the floor and quickly looked back to the quilt covering it; as if he didn't make eye contact her brown doe eyes wouldn't be able to pierce his soul.

"Tell me? Please?"

Her tone was so soft and compassionate it made him feel like he was going to split in two. He quickly looked up and met her gaze, holding it for the first time whether conscious or not.

Her eyes widened and he watched as the wheels in her head began to spin. He could see the realization washing over her face as each memory leading up to what she should've known five years ago came into her mind. She absent mindedly touched his fingers and yanked hers back as if they'd been zapped with electricity. Now it was she that was staring at the floor, her cheeks were flooding with color.

"Oh Scorpius…"

He got up to leave, feeling broken and bruised. But then her hand grabbed his and before he knew it her lips met his.

She was kissing him.

She was kissing him.

Her lips were as soft as he had always imagined they would be and the familiar scent of strawberries was in his face as he slowly cupped the back of her head gently with his hands. She pulled herself closer to him, sinking herself into his frame. Her lips were open and hungry, as if she had been waiting for this moment as long as he had. They were exploring each other mouths, their tongues wrapping around each other as if to mimic their bodies. She let out of soft moan of happiness making him hold on to her even tighter.

They finally broke away, breathing heavily with their foreheads pressing against one another. He wanted to speak, to tell her everything that he had wanted to say for the past one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days but she had left him completely speechless.

"Finally," she whispered, breaking the silence.

He broke away, holding her face between his hands and staring into it intently with his piercing grey eyes.

"What was that?"

She laughed, kissing both of his cheeks and meeting his mouth again for another kiss that sent his mind and his stomach spinning happily.

She broke away again and kissed the tip of his nose. "I have wanted to do that for so long, Scorpius. It's been killing me to not touch you, to not kiss you."

His mouth dropped. "But…I have…Rose…"

She laughed again and placed a quick peck on his lips. "It's still me, the fact that we finally kissed doesn't change that. You can still tell me anything."

He grabbed her hands, squeezing them and staring at their perfect white shapes. "I have loved you since the first day I talked to you."

Rose grabbed him and pulled him into her, nuzzling her face into his neck. She planted light kisses on his fair skin, murmuring unintelligible things into his ears and hair. She ran her fingers though his blonde mane and he felt her smile against his shoulder as she kissed it. It was as if she wanted to kiss every bit of his skin but was planning her moves carefully and taking her time.

"I love you, Scorpius," she finally said, not moving her head from its resting spot on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her, reminded again how perfectly their bodies fit together. And finally, Scorpius smiled back.