title: pyromania

summary: he hasn't smiled this much in a very long time.

pairing: scorpius&rose

author's note: oh, well. this is kind of asdfdsjf. it's kind of it's own crack fic. it's pretty craycray. I love it a looot though. :D meheeehehaweiudhids. i'm going into the city naaow~ I was stuck at home all day yesterday, so that's why I posted so much. but it seems like no one likes my stories. roar.


oh, have I been too discreet?


he wakes up on a monday. his throat is dry and he can barely speak.

she frowns at him, her eyes sparking with fire but her mouth set in a line.

"you don't care about me," she whispers.

au contraire, you could say that he cares too much.


james laughs at the thought of rose and scorpius.

"you're not really her type."

but the thing is, scorpius malfoy is rose weasley's type.

or at least, that's what she told him in bed last night.


rose kisses him for the first time in fifth year. her lips lazily graze against his and he presses her against the desk, smiling against her kiss. his teeth graze her bottom lip and they both smile together, stopping to kiss each other more, bodies mingling together.

she leaves him in the empty classroom and scorpius realizes that he hasn't smiled this much in a very long time.

she meets his eyes the next morning, and he grins as she sticks her tongue out at him. her cousins look confused, but he's just looking at her and her mess of hair and her blue eyes.

well, malfoys may be known for being proper but scorpius has never met expectations. maybe that's why she likes him as much as he likes her. they both are such messes and they need each other to balance the equation.

or maybe they just like to play with fire.


she grabs him in the corridor and they skip history of magic to talk about their lives in an alcove.

he finds out that this is the first class she's skipped and that she likes to paint and that she has a deathly fear of dying. her favorite color is red and she loves elephants. she's smart and cynical and she likes to bicker even when she's wrong. she listens to muggle music and she watches woody allen films, and they make a date to watch one.

she finds out that he likes to watch children's movies and that he has in fact, been exposed to the wonderful world of muggle cartoons. his favorite muggle film is winnie the pooh, as he admits sheepishly. his favorite color is orange – maybe it's because it's the color of her hair or maybe it just reminds him of fire. he likes to play cricket and qudditch and he loves to write. he loves france because it makes him want to stay and make a home.

and maybe it's just nothing to her, but he really thinks that this could lead to something. he wants it to be something, and he's never felt like this before.

she holds his hand when they leave.


she plays qudditch on the gryffindor team with her cousins. she's a beater and he's a chaser on the slytherin team. during the game, he looks at her a lot, watching her hair rustle in the breeze. she looks content and happy and she hits like no other.

he worries about her, and he doesn't even notice that a bludger is coming until it hits him right off his broom.

she stays with him in the hospital wing for the two days he has to regrow his bones. she brings in a woody allen film and they watch it on her muggle laptop. she also brings a book of winnie the pooh, and she kisses him until madam pomfrey walks in and mumbles about teenagers. he loves having her around, and when he gets a message from his father about getting better, she lays next to him in bed.

her family doesn't really get where this comes from, except albus and lily smirk when they walks in the hospital wing and rose and scorpius are cuddling in bed.

"told you it would happen," lily says to james confidently, "you owe me twenty galleons."

it takes albus and lily's charms to make sure james doesn't strangle scorpius.

rose laughs loudly, and scorpius tells her she's beautiful. james sulks in his bubble, wishing he could just punch malfoy in the nose.

scorpius is forever grateful he doesn't have to drink another bottle of skele-grow.


one day, rose finds a nasty burn on scorpius' chest.

he shrugs at her questioning eyes, "i used to like to play with fire."

she kisses it tenderly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes twinkling. she raises her skirt and shows him a burn on her thigh.

"i guess we're the same," she smiles.

he kisses her feverishly, his finger tracing her burn and she mewls against his lips.

"you burn me up," he whispers softly.

she laughs, embers sparking in her eyes.


seventh year, their relationship is still steady. he showers her with attention and she fills him with happiness. they work.

sometimes, it's a little tough. he won't lie. her family doesn't accept him right away, and still it's very awkward when they bump into certain family members when they walk through the hallways together. james has long since graduated, but he works as the new flying teacher at hogwarts and still glares at scorpius during qudditch matches.

the malfoys don't really know what to say about rose. she's perfectly well-mannered and they don't mind her at all. it's just awkward when the subject of the war comes up in conversation. she always leans in to hear the details and they pull away. rose is a little too curious for them, scorpius thinks.

he loves her though, so he takes these problems in stride with her hand in his. sometimes, they skip history of magic and they just talk about nothing. rose has an abundance of stories, everything from gay penguins to muggle presidents. he listens to her, watching as the fire lights in her eyes and her hair shakes as she jumps about.

he thinks that this could be it, the answer to all his troubles. rose weasley is the love of his life, he is almost certain about it.


"you're nothing but trouble," she whispers. her eyes are drowning in tears – an unwelcome change.

"love," he tries to grab her hand but she moves away.

she sits at the edge of the bed, "what did you think you were going to accomplish?"

he looks at the burns on him, the memory of burning in his head.

"i like to play with fire," he says.

she whispers a word under her breath, "pyromaniac."

he sits up and grabs her, presses his lips against hers.

"you're the one who's burning me now," she says.

she leaves him in the cold white bed. he feels cold.


he loses himself around the time of the n.e.w.t.s.

he spends his nights on the couch, reading by the fire. rose stays with him sometimes, but she hates the cold dungeon and he refuses to go anywhere else.

she doesn't understand this sudden change. scorpius has never worked this hard. what she doesn't know is that he wants to get a good job to afford the ring he had on hold.

it's the night before the n.e.w.t.s when he throws his textbook in frustration. it catches the embers of the fire, and before he knows it, there is a sizable fire at his feet. he is wandless and the dorms are empty because everyone's at dinner.

the flames lick his skin, mocking and laughing at him.

i like to play with fire.


she kisses him feverishly, his head is spinning – and it's quite ridiculous just how much she effects him. he's snogged plenty of girls, but rose weasley has taken the cake of his favorite girl to snog. she gently touches him and then nips and prods and she bickers with him all the time, so much he can't help but kiss her to make her stop. it's his favorite way to make her stop talking. she touches his inner thigh with her finger, so lightly she might not have been touching him at all.

"make love to me," she whispers.

and he does. it burns when he pushes in and pulls out. she grins up at him, her eyes brilliantly lit.

"i love you," he mumbles into her hair.

she laughs and the friction is all too much, because he just catches her response above his last moan.

"i'm in love with a malfoy."

she gets this beautiful look in her eyes when she – well – you know. it's like a fire is dying out on a dark night.


she glides her fingers across his chest, guiding them over his burns and on his unmarked skin, "would you do anything for me?"

"anything," he smiles, "i would give you the world."

she giggles and he whispers so calmly, "i would give you the world's fire."

she presses her lips against his, all consuming and leaving a lingering, dizzying smoke around his brain.


"i love you."

he means it, because she leaves him breathless and dehydrated and his heart feels like it's fallen into ash. it's an all consuming burn that he revels in.

her eyes are all waterworks and tired, everything she isn't.

"i do too, scorpius," she says slowly, "i do too."

she stays in the white hospital room, her eyes wet and her heart burned.