A Dream Couple

"Ooof."

The disgruntled sound was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I was lying spread-eagled on the floor of the Entrance Hall, my bag stuck under my back at a painful angle. I heard someone apologise from somewhere above me and I squinted up. The doors in front of me were open and the sunlight was painfully bright. A warm hand found mine, squeezing it and pulling me up. I turned to face my rescuer and felt the breath taken out of me again.

"I wasn't watching where I was going, sorry." His voice was cool as ever, but somehow warm at the same time. He had always been a mass of contradictions: clever but ditsy, talkative but quiet, small and skinny with a huge appetite, a Slytherin with a good heart. I shook my head; my voice seemed to have taken a last minute vacation to some far and distant land.

"It's no problem." And it had returned, apparently having been sanded down to a rough growl. The boy cocked an eyebrow, but didn't question the strange tone that my voice had taken. He looked me up and down and I felt suddenly very self-conscious, my cheeks heated up to the colour of rubies and I looked away.

"Maybe I should take you to the Hospital Wing?" he suggested as I took a step forward and suddenly felt heavy. My head was beginning to throb where it had hit the bottom step of the marble staircase I'd been descending, when this whirlwind of black and silver had swept into me and knocked me clean off my feet. My legs buckled a little and in an instant, his arm was around my waist. I felt ridiculously tall and bent down a bit so it was easier for him to guide me up the stairs. He slid my bag off, hanging it over his own shoulder. I muttered a thank you, and as he led me slowly up the stairs in silence, I let my mind wander.

I imagined what it would be like if this was a regular occurrence. What if he always wrapped his arm around my waist, supporting me? If it happened a lot, would I get used to the height difference? It was a nuisance, being so tall, and I cursed my father's side of the family. I felt my lips curve upwards as I slipped on a wet piece of floor, his arm tightening around me again. I clutched my head, which was now beginning to pound and made me feel a little sick, in all honesty, and he stopped beside an old cabinet, upon which sat a single trophy. I leant against the cupboard, my head resting on my arms. His arm slipped away and I felt like something was missing. I yearned to grab it back, but that would be out of order.

"Maybe I should get a teacher?" he offered kindly. My head snapped around way too quickly and I felt faint again. I shook it a little and stood up straight.

"I'll be fine. It's not that far now." He nodded, clearly still unsure. I wrapped my arms around my own waist, just imagining for a second that they belonged to him. We walked side by side in silence. We'd never said more than a few polite words to each other in the past. I'd admired him from a distance. He knew who I was, who didn't? He'd nod at me in the corridor, out of courtesy, and I'd turn away before he could spot the tell tale blush crawling under my skin.

"Here we are," he murmured, opening the doors to the Hospital Wing. Madam Dubreuil listened to my account of what happened then, pushing me onto a bed, began to feel my head for any bumps or lumps that shouldn't be there. She turned to see my rescuer standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"Yes?" she snapped at him, her brow furrowing as she pulled out her wand. She was a pretty woman, all the boys thought she was gorgeous, but if you got on the wrong side of her, pretty was not the word that sprang to mind. I always wondered if, like Aunt Fleur, she was part Veela in the horror that crossed her face when something was not to her liking.

"I…" he began before shutting his mouth. He stepped forward, almost as though he was scared of me, and dropped my bag on the floor. "Your bag." I thanked him quietly, as a flask of green potion flew from the opposite side of the ward. Madam Dubreuil forced me down so I was lying still and gave me the liquid.

"I'll keep you in overnight. It's a nasty fall you've had." I nodded, my eyes tiring now from the energy it had taken me to walk up to the fourth floor. She moved a pillow to a more comfortable position, clearly sensing my overwhelming tiredness, and I slipped down the bed. She placed the flask on the bedside cabinet and left me. Before I let the fatigue take over, my mind dreamt once again of what could be…

We would lie under the old maple tree on the far side of the lake. There was a little indent in the trunk, just the right size for someone to sit in, to lean against and let all their worries wash away with the gentle rippling of the water in the familiar Highland breeze. He'd sit there, sprawled out, his limbs in all sort of disarray. His head would loll back against the trunk, his hands slowly running through my hair as I sat between his legs. He'd laugh at the mess of curls piled on top of my head, such a contrast to his own smooth blond hair, so soft and gentle to the touch.

His fingers, long and gentle, would slowly creep down my neck. I'd shiver at the contact of him in one of my most sensitive places. His hand would rest for a second upon my shoulder, then it would rise to cup my face, his thumb slowly caressing my cheek. I'd lift a hand up and stop him. I'd turn a little, pulling my legs under me and then sit up to face him. He'd have been leaning forwards now. I'd prop myself up using my hand, resting the other side of one of his splayed legs.

With my free hand, I'd reach up and stroke his cheek too, our eyes locked: blue against green. I'd pull myself closer, leaning against his leg, my lips ducking to meet his. It would be gentle at first. Perhaps just a peck. Then we'd draw apart, our eyes begging the other for more and we'd kiss again, with more urgency. His hands would rise again to rest on the back of my head, pulling me closer. His arm would have me in a vice-like grip, unable to escape from his embrace. I'd have my hand still stroking his cheek, the fingers on my free hand tracing patterns on his thigh. He'd groan and push me away. It would be his turn to blush as he shook his head. Not the time. Not the place. Then I'd nod, relax and lean back against him, my head on his chest, his head resting upon mine. His hand would slip inside my own, a reassuring squeeze that everything was still okay.

"Are you alright?" I snapped out of the daydream with a frown. I moved my head quickly and regretted it. My eyes focused eventually on the last figure I wanted to see. I sat up a little and nodded to my sister, who was looking at me worriedly.

"He told me what happened," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I slid away a little. Her red hair glinted in the sunlight. She looked like she'd just run a marathon, her cheeks the same red as mine, her eyes full of concern that I didn't deserve.

"It was an accident. I'm just a little dizzy, that's all," I assured her, trying not to sound too annoyed at her untimely interruption.

I averted my gaze from hers. I felt insanely guilty. My daydream, my desire, was only half mine. I'd watched him with her one day. She was sat on his lap under the beech tree, the height difference less pronounced than it would have been with me. Her head was buried in his neck. He laughed at her unruly mess of hair. He ran his fingers through it, and when they got tangled in the curls, they both chuckled and he kissed her cheek. Their eyes locked: brown with green, a much better combination. I turned away then. I walked to the other end of the castle, my stomach churning, and didn't look back.

"I'll let Mum and Dad know," she said. I raised my eyebrows. "Either I tell them, or they get a letter from Neville, and you know he'll blow things way out of proportion." I sighed and nodded. It was best to let her do it. "Get some sleep." Then she placed a hand over mine, squeezed and left.

She knew. She'd known for ages. The way I'd ignore him unless he spoke to me first gave things away to start with. The way I didn't laugh at something he said in front of her, for fear that I'd never stop. To begin with, she thought I disliked him because of the family prejudices. Then she heard me. In the middle of the night, she'd crept into my room to borrow a book and had heard me saying his name in my sleep. She'd joked about it the next morning, before I stormed away, cursing my subconscious. It was then that she realised the truth. She wasn't angry. She knew I couldn't help myself. She stopped forcing us to talk to each other. She thought I'd get over it.

Seven months on and I'm more in love than ever. And it hurts. It hurts more than anything because as much as I want to stop, I can't. I love my sister. I don't want to hurt her. I love him, and I don't want to hurt him either. It's infuriating. It's maddening. It's killing me. The only place we can be together is in my head. Hugo and Scorpius: a dream couple.

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A/N: Dedicated to Phil and Claire - they'll never read it but still

My second attempt at slash. My second attempt at Hugo/Scorpius. I'm in love with the pairing now!
Review, if you like :P