Title: to have dreamed such great dreams

Summary: You must be someone special.

Author's Note: Experimental piece. I miss Fanfiction so much, so I'm trying to get back into it. Yay~! Okay, well, I'm really tired and I have school tomorrow. Going to dieeeee. Love you guys!

There is a part of Rose Weasley that cries out. It is a big part, one that steals away her breath and breaks her ribs. At night, her sides ache and her heart speeds up, so she thinks.

He wants to be a Healer. She contemplates how it would feel, to have his big, swift fingers glide over all the parts that no other boy has seen. She thinks of his steel eyes cutting into her heart and stealing all the tender love back. He is a different sort of unusual. He is quick moments and public knowledge. He is tenderness without the thought. He is a flash in the dark – meaningful but hard to find. He is a prize and she wants to win him so badly.

There is a part of Rose Weasley that cries out. It cries for him and his thick fingerprints to leave their grace on her pale skin. It cries out for him to leave a masterpiece that would never leave, so she may always remember. There is a part of Rose Weasley that she is afraid of.

It is not just the part of her, however. There is many other parts, all forming a whole Rose. A Rose with thorns and a beautiful red flower that crawls down her back, blooming between her shoulder blades. A Rose with two elegantly spun stems. These parts that make a whole – they call out for his pollen. They call out nastily and crudely. She wants it so badly, that sometimes, her perfectly polished fingernails just fly into her mouth and she bites down. She gets out the polish, thinking of it's color. It is the color of pale pink, the soft tender pink of clean skin. She thinks that he has a similar tint to his skin, not too colored but not too pale. He is not his father, and she appreciates the distraction.

Want floods her thoughts. It always comes down to it. She'll wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming of his fingers clumsily dancing down her back. She imagines him undressing her, holding her body in his warm arms, watching her with his steely gaze, thinking a million and two things. She imagines him rocking his body against hers, holding her like she is fragile, as if she was made for him to protect and love. She imagines him touching each of her secret freckles and smiling down on them with his moon white teeth. She can imagine feeling his hummingbird heart – the one that people question the existence of, and knowing that it is beating for her, that the drum beats that increase with passion and pleasure are from her.

She is a ball of desire and he is her gift. He is paraded in her mind's eye, each of his legs inside the spread of her own. She is Rose Weasley and she wonders if he yearns for her touch. She has dainty fingers and warm brown eyes. There are many parts of her that want him, and they create a whole. He is to be a Healer, because it is a scholarly thing to become. It will bring pride back to his family. He will save innocent lives no matter who they are. He is to be a Healer and he may be the one who can stitch up the many parts of Rose Weasley that cry out in the middle of the night, wailing for his big fingers to run over them. She wonders if he would fix her up for free if she slowly kissed his pink lips and told him that he was the one for her. He is a good man at heart; she knows this most of all.

He is Scorpius Malfoy, and she desists his name but craves his taste. She envisions he will taste of peppermints and grass because she thinks about him a lot, and it seems to be that in the middle of her darkest dreams, this is what he tastes of. It's intoxicating, but many things about him seem to be. She is tempted by his blood which is pure as can be, his bright pink tongue that from time to time darts from between his lips and glazes his lips with his saliva. She is tempted by his grace, by his ability to make the strangest of habits seem earnest and appealing. She wishes for many of his traits and occasionally without thought, she imagines his features mixing with hers – creating a child of beauty. She cannot doubt that they would make some of the most beautiful children the world would ever see. Children with impeccable faces and brains that are full with knowledge. Their children would charm others and find themselves to be met with many opportunities.

His eyes are candescent whenever he meets her own. His steely gaze focused upon her; looking over for the cracks in her mask. If he showed a sign or an inkling that he wanted her for the fire burning within his heart, she knew she would take off her veil and show herself. She would throw herself in the fire and never look back. Rose Weasley is not afraid of a lot of things and neither is he. If anything, their fear would focus on their lust. Zeal and vigor runs through their blood, their hearts, and their souls. Nothing seems to mean anything else and Rose Weasley loves that feeling the most of all because when she sees Scorpius Malfoy in a crowded room, she can imagine his fingers brushing against hers as they stand together.

Yes, Rose Weasley would very much care to be in a room with only Scorpius Malfoy. Her fingers twitch at the thought as her cheeks flush. She would very much love if it would become real.