a/n: Just a random one-shot. Tell me what you think!
It was a dark, cold evening of the month November. Snowflakes had begun to fall and Lily Potter, who never missed the first snowfall, was standing on the paved patio of the Malfoy estate. Shivering, she went back inside to get a warmer piece of clothing. Whilst picking out a jumper, she heard a crack, but dismissed it, assuming it was just the house-elf. Humming to herself, she brushed a strand of her red hair from her vision and stared at the girl standing before her in the mirror. At five foot, she wasn't the tallest person in the world, but wasn't overly short. She had the Weasley red hair, flaming and bright, with deep hazel eyes that had an undefinable sparkle to them; alluring and sensual, with a touch of mischief. Smiling slyly to herself, she made her back out, only to stop at the top of the staircase.
She saw a boy. She knew him once, from her time at school. They had been best friends once, but she had cast him away. As he stood, leaning against the windowsill, she felt her breath leaving her mouth in a soft sigh. His eyes, a brilliant sea-green, shone like a star in the night sky. His hair, soft and silky, blew gently in the wind, the sandy locks glimmering slightly under the setting sun. Then his mouth, thin set and bent upwards in a haughty smirk, complementing his otherwise angelic look.
Scorpius was, without a doubt, not over her. Months of searching, bribing and lying had led him here. His family home. The wind blew from behind him, a chilly wind filled with misery and sorrow; he recognised it as the wind from three years ago. The hardest year of his life, when his one love had left him. Determined not to let let her get away again, he sighed, a smile playing on his lips as the first snowflake drifted down. Thinking of his home, thinking of his love, he apparated. Landing in the front entrance, he saw a girl heading up the stairs. Staying silent, he followed her, her red hair billowing behind her. How he wanted to reach out and touch it, how he wanted to call out and hear her. But not yet. He tailed her until she turned left at the top of the stairs. Not wanting to intrude on her privacy, he stood waiting at the windowsill at the landing. He stared out, the snow had quickly encompassed the whole view, covering the landscape in a blanket of white; his concentration lapsed, and he looked wistfully out the window, not hearing the girl approaching from the side.
She didn't look away, even when he turned his piercing gaze upon her. Even after all this time, she couldn't forgive herself for leaving him. For not saying she loved him. A stray tear crept down her cheek, leaving a damp trail. He stared at her, his smirk dropping and his eyes hardening. She felt her heart drop. Perhaps he had forgotten her. Perhaps he had moved on. Or perhaps he hated her. Stepping forward, his hands stretched out before him, catching hers. Still, she couldn't move. Then his legs, stopping in front of hers, white shoes to black. But still, she couldn't move. He dropped his head to meet her eyes and when she saw them, she barely held in the torrent of tears threatening to flow. His mouth, slow and careful, descended upon hers. She could taste his lips before they met hers, and that's when she knew they were not done.
His lips were soft on hers, barely moving. She wanted this, years of pain and loss had made her strong. But he- only he could make her break down like this. Lifting her arms, she raised them behind his neck, pulling him close. His arms went to her waist, pulling her nearer. A bite, a gasp. His tongue entered her mouth. They fought; a slow battle, one that conveyed both of their emotions through sensitive touches. She understood then; she understood the torment he experienced at her hands. When she had left him, three years ago, he was left heartbroken, but today, when she came back, so did his heart. Breaking the kiss, they stood there, foreheads touching, joined at the hip. They shared a breath, a solitary breath.
Her lips touched his, sending electricity flying through him. He wanted this, years of disappointment and longing had made him miserable. He knew that the only person that could make him feel like this was his soul-mate, his flower, his Lily. He felt her arms around his neck, barely discernible against her warm lips. His arms, seemingly of their own accord, snaked around her waist, pulling her towards him. His lips parted, his tongue darted out, tasting hers. Her tongue responded in kind, fighting a battle between their mouths, as their lips caressed each other's. The emotions soaring within him converged on the memory of the third year before today. She had left him, that time, and he was heartbroken, but he sought her out and now here they were; like nothing had ever happened. He wouldn't understand what her reasons were, nor did he want to, for he knew that he would never let go, never again. She was his, forever more. They broke apart briefly, foreheads touching, joined at the hip. They shared a breath, a solitary breath.
Their lips met again, this time with more passion. She could feel him breathing, ragged and heavy. She could feel his body, pressed against hers. She could feel his heart, beating softly, in time with hers. She responded in kind, wrapping her legs around his waist. He lifted her up, supporting her under with his hands under her thighs. He backed her up against the wall; she didn't care. Her skirt rode up as he ran his hands up and down her thighs; she didn't care. Her jumper had come off in the heat of the moment but again; she didn't care. All that mattered in that one moment was the feel of his lips against hers. His body upon hers. His heart, beating with hers. They pulled apart, yet again, after what seemed like an eternity. She looked down into his eyes, smouldering like a fireplace at Christmas Eve. Staring back, he whispered a quiet, "I love you" before backing away. She didn't let him go. Instead, she held him there, willing herself not to let go. Not to let go, like she had all those years ago. A silent conversation played between them, words dancing on their tongues. She couldn't move, captivated by his smell, his smile, his eyes; a glimpse of heaven.