Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters (: ;; they're all JKRowling's creation, except the children.

Lovely little Scorminique here, my favourite pairing. 3

It's been three years since I left school; three years since I ran away from my life in England; three years since I told a boy I love him; three years since I watched as he made out with my cousin two hours before my confession; three years since my heart was tore out my chest and crushed; three years since I, Dominique Weasley, told the low life jerk known as Scorpius Malfoy, that he was the only reason I was actually still in school.

I'm sitting in a small bedsit in New York, looking out at Brooklyn Bridge, with a letter on the desk. I won't send it; I can't send it, everyone back at home thinks I'm dead, since I forged that letter confirming my death; I suppose it was a bit of a dramatic end for the Dominique Weasley, but it would be suiting, since I wanted to work with dragons. I can still imagine the horror and pain in my mother's face, when she'd seen the letter, saying I'd been mauled to death by a Romanian Longhorn. Shaking my head - as if to rid myself of the image - I go back to the letter on the desk. I'm just reading through it when hear a slight knock at the door; glancing at the clock I see its 10:48 at night, so who would be here that late.

Heading over to the door, I shove the letter into my pocket, knowing it's only going to end up in the trash shortly. My heart skips a beat when I see who's standing at the door.
"What're you doing here?" I question quickly, shocked by the blonde haired boy – he's no longer a boy, he's 21 - stood in my doorway.
"I came to find you; I knew you weren't dead; you're not stupid enough to get yourself killed by a dragon," he mutters back, his cold grey eyes locked to mine. I admit he's right about that; I'm not stupid to get myself killed.
"Scorpius, what did you come looking for?" I question again, not wanting to actually hear the answer. It takes everything I've got to stop myself breaking down into tears. (I don't cry; I've cried twice my whole life; when Victoire cut all my hair off while I was sleeping, and when this boy broke my heart into a million pieces.)
"Because I wanted to know why you ran; why you didn't say goodbye; why you faked your own death – which by the way is illegal in England," he responded with his usual smirk turning to a frown waiting for an answer – or possibly an invitation into my apartment.
"Just go away Scorpius; I have a life here, I'm not coming back to England."
"I'm not going to force you to return, Dom. I just came because Dad tracked you down after he found out you'd never actually died. I miss you like hell; your whole family misses you; Victoire is a mess since you left. She's cut her hair off; broke up with Teddy; refused to leave the house; she doesn't even turn up at the shop anymore." The 'shop' being the art shop I'd heard Scorp had opened up, although he didn't know a thing about art, he still opened a shop in London, where people could buy stupid and ugly ass paintings for millions of pounds. Victoire worked there with him, she loved Muggle London and she didn't want to get a 'proper' job, so Scorp gave her one.

"Who knows you're here?" I ask, while moving to the side and allowing him to enter.
"No-one but my dad. And chances are he's not going to tell anyone after I asked him not to, incase it was a false lead…" he looks at me after making his way inside, hoping for answers, but I'm not giving in yet.
"Good, because I'm not leaving New York; I've got a job; I have friends-," I begin, cut off by his next word.
"Boyfriend?"
"Maybe, why would you care anyway? Not like you've come all this way to win my heart is it?" I retort, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer and a bottle of water, passing him the beer.
"Since when did Dominique Weasley drink water?" he eyes the bottle, while opening his beer.
"Since she died in that tragic dragon accident, and became Danielle Worsley." I look at him seriously, hoping that he can tell by the fire in my eyes that I'm staying put.
"Yeah, good name by the way. Made things easier, since the first search I did was find all the blonde females, around the age of 20, who didn't have a family, was running from something, with the initials D.W." I feel like throwing my water bottle straight for his head, but his beater instinct would kick in and he'd just catch it easily.
"I couldn't think of anything else, so I stuck with the same initials and used my old best friends name, and the name of a sandwich company; since I was eating a sandwich on the plane over here," I instantly reply, more spite in my words than I expected. I head over to the couch, and flick on the T.V, some muggle box that lets you watch films and stuff. It's no surprise when he sits in the arm chair by the fire – it was always his spot in the common room – and look at me with his beady eyes.
"Don't look at me like I'm in the wrong, Scorpius," I speak without looking at him, keeping my face emotionless, because this was Scorpius Malfoy we're talking about, and he could always read me like a book.

"You look like you've been doing good, apart from the scar," he states as my hand goes to the claw scar on my cheek.
"Chinese Fireball, 2 years ago," I begin, laughing slightly. "Uncle Charlie had let me go out on my own for the first time, and it was amazing, Scorpius. You should have seen the size of Muzzy! That's the dragon by the way." He just stares at me, and I don't know whether it's amazement or shock that keeps him speechless. I stare back at him, as if challenging his eyes. His cold and grey ones against my light and blue ones. I win, again. He looks away; standing and making his way to the window and looking out; smiling at the view.
"Amazing view you have here, Minx," my nickname still makes me smile, and the way he says it makes my knees weak. No forget you heard that, erase that from your mind. This is Scorpius; the same Scorpius that broke my heart three years ago; the same Scorpius that is most likely getting married in a few months to my red-headed stuck up cousin, Rose. That's my subject changer.

"How's things with you and Rose then? Last time I heard she'd popped the question during a leap year; of course that was before I 'died'; before I ran off to New York. You're probably already married by-.." he cut me off with a raise of his hand. I look at him, confused but glad he did, I would have rambled on about how much the thought of them together makes my stomach churn.
"Actually we're not getting married now."
"Not getting cold feet are you?" I snort in laughter, the thought of him getting nervous and scared.
"No, we're not getting married because I never said yes when she asked; she broke up with me as soon as I rejected her proposal," he says, his face showing no signs of emotion; not love; not hate; not pain; not relief.
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry for that then," I reply sincerely, but he turns to look at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
"No you're not Dom; you're not sorry at all; in fact you're over the moon to hear Rose and I broke up, aren't you?" I can't even bare to register his question, the anger in his voice sent me over the edge.
"Get out," I say quietly, but when seeing he makes no attempt to leave I scream. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" He's barely out the door when it slams behind him, and I sink down against the wall; hugging my knees and banging my head against them. I don't move until the noise of a car door slamming shut; running to the window; swinging it open and seeing a yellow cab driving away. I sit in horror for a few hours, staring at the arm chair Scorpius (the one person that ever understood me, the only person to ever hurt me) was sitting moments ago. I eventually decide it's time for bed; at 12:14am I crawl under my sheets and start to relive my life as Danielle Worsley.

The sound of the traffic; the bells of phone lines ringing; the chatter in the coffee shop; I'm getting by like I normally do. A cab to Manhattan; a coffee from Starbucks; my bosses constant yelling; my articles being published. Yeah, this is my life now, writing for 'Wow' magazine, and my article is one of the hot spots inside: 'How to build yourself back up after heartbreak'. I'm an expert on this, since I've had my heart stomped on by a guy, but I refused to let it stop me, so I got a job working as an intern at the newspaper, and now I'm writing a main article about it. It's mainly a 'question and answer' blog, people write into the newspaper – well to me – and ask me questions on how to do this or when to do that. Everything is back to normal after Scorpius' little visit to the apartment 3 weeks ago, I'd actually forgotten about it until I was reading through my 'questions' and came across his name. He'd sent in a question to me: 'How do you win over a girl whose heart you broke three years ago?'

I'm in shock; I drop the paper onto my desk like it's on fire; jump up out my seat, grabbing my coat and heading towards the elevator; but not before popping my head around my editors door.
"Hey boss, I quit," I say with a smile and head out, hailing a cab and driving back to the apartment.

I'm muttering under my breath when I'm rushing around the room, looking for all important stuff, using the good old undetectable extension charm on a small suitcase I own and throw it all in there.

Dominique, stop! I think to myself. Maybe he was talking about Rose? But no he said three years, didn't he? Damn, why did I leave that letter on the desk! So I'm in over my head, so what? I was reckless; I did what I want, it got me in trouble sometimes; I don't answer to anyone. But one thing I did want, something I've always wanted, is love. Not just love, the annoying love/hate relationship Scorpius and I have. Wait…

How was I going to explain to everyone how I'm not dead? I can't just show up on the front step to shell cottage after all this time; dad would kill me; mum would have a heart attack; vic would hate me; teddy wouldn't speak to me; none of my cousins would acknowledge me anymore, I just can't show up. When did my life screw up so much? Oh yeah, three years ago, when I thought it better to run than to face my fears.

I decide that it's better to get the whole 'I'm not dead' thing out the way before thinking about Scorpius, so with a quick double check around the place I close my eyes and think of home; think about Shell Cottage; and apparate.

My dad's still the same, protective and on guard. The crack from my apparition alerts him and he's running out the front door, but the shock of seeing a blonde haired girl walking up the path astounds him and glues him to the spot. I'm pretty sure the words that he slurs aren't English, so I help him out slightly.
"Hey there, dad. I'm alive," I say with a slight smile, but I barely finish my wording before I have a face full of red hair; his tight muscular arms around me; he's still trying to speak but it's just Weasley gibberish, which could amount to something along the lines of 'Never die on me again' I think. We just stand there for what seems like an hour, hugging each other until he screams - this time making sense – my mother and my siblings.

Fleur, my mother comes walking out with her apron on – it's 5pm, I'm still going off New York time – and she's clearly just been preparing dinner. Her face drops and her screech could kill a dog anywhere near – one reason why I clench my hands around my ears, I'm an animagus, and I'm a wolf, aka a dog. She's the next to hold me, while my sister comes out; her eyes swollen up and her blonde hair cut and it's barely scraping her shoulders, followed by my bouncy brother; clearly taking my fake death better than the others. Eventually it's an all-round Weasley-Delacour group hug, with me sandwiched in the middle. They're all muttering about me pretending to be dead and I just try my best to sidle out of there, they watch me as I make my way up the path to the door; open the door and walk in, like it's normal. I make my way through the house, heading upstairs to my bedroom – it's not changed since I left three years ago – put my bag on my bed and suddenly, without warning, break down into sobs of anger and pain. How could I have left my family behind; left them thinking I was dead; thinking I was mauled by a dragon? I'm crying into my pillow when I feel his presence, climbing through my window like he used to in summer – except this time not as subtle as he's 6 years older and 2 feet taller – and sit down at the end of my bed.

"I take it you got my letter?" Scorpius asks calmly, this time with a bit of pain in his voice. I nod, knowing he's watching my movements, then I feel a shift in movement and I turn onto my back to look up at him, now hovering over me like it's something he's used to. I don't even need to think about kissing him back when his lips crash down against mine, I react immediately like I did four years ago, when we shared our first kiss – it was a drunk kiss, which then led to sex, but it's still a kiss – wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close. He pulls my wand out its usual hiding place - tugged down my right ugg boot – and he shuts the door with magic, still kissing me. I don't remember much after that; laboured breath; the hushes from each other when my mother comes to my door; the kisses down my neck; the movements in and out. That's all I seem to remember, but right now with him lying beside me, my naked back pressed against his sweaty abs, it feels like it's supposed to be happening.

Suddenly he's on his feet, rummaging for his clothes. I sigh, knowing it was too good to be true anyway; they'd never work out, they're too similar; too Slytherin. But wasn't that why everyone thought they would work? Because they were like fire and ice together; they bicker like children but look at each other and smile; they're both cunning and determined, that's why everyone thought they'd end up together.

"I guess I'll see you around then." I state, my tone as sarcastic as ever, because I just want him to leave, which he's clearly about to do.
"Course you will," he says back, his tone genuine and loyal. I look up at him, he's now got his boxers and jeans back on and he's passing me his shirt. I put it on confused, still watching him as he sits beside me.

"Dom, the reason I refused Rose two years ago, was because I couldn't give myself a life with someone I didn't love. Not because I'm a Malfoy and she's a Weasley. Not because she's Rose and I'm Scorp. No, I turned her proposal down because I wanted it the person walking down that aisle to be a blonde; middle child; who happens to be an eighth Veela; a wolf; and a damn good lay. Dominique, I wanted it to be you. And I still do," he states, holding up a box and opening the lid. My eyes widen in shock, trying to register the three diamonds sitting on the platinum band; tugged into a velvet enclosure; glistening against the evening sunlight that was now beaming in.

"Dominique Etoile Weasley, will you marry this stupid arsehole; who's been in love with you since his 6th year; who broke your heart by trying to make you jealous; who died slightly when you ran away; who refused to accept you were dead; who wants to spend the rest of his life, making sure you are safe and protected – not that you need it or anything. Dom, will you marry me?" he asks, his voice croaking but sincere. I can't help but look up into his eyes, which are now glistening, just like the engagement ring he's holding out. I small smile lingers on my face before I realise he's waiting for an answer, which comes out before I even think about it.

"Course I will, you dumbass!" I shout, wrapping my arms around him tight; his own wrapping around my waist; holding me close like he doesn't want to lose me again. He's not going to; I'm not leaving again; no more dragons; no more newspaper; no more Danielle Worsley. Now I'm going to be Dominique Weasley, the Slytherin Ice Queen.

15 years later, I'm now Dominique Malfoy, Slytherin Ice Queen, and Scorpius and I have a Slytherin Ice Princess and a Slytherin Fire Prince; Fiya, who's 13 and the most cunning Veela I know; and Phoenix, 11 and has my obsession for dragons. One thing is certain though, although Rose didn't speak to me ever again – something about me stealing her 'guy' – I know I'll lead a great life; have a great family; and have the perfect job as Head of the Regulation of Magical Creatures department; as well as an amazing husband, although he can be a complete A-Hole sometimes, but I love him.

Please Review! Hope it wasn't too bad . 3