happy late birthday xxx-angelin-xxx!
baby, we're just another cliché
They're such a cliché that it's a little ridiculous. The spunky Gryffindor and the Slytherin prince that have such chemistry that they can't stop bickering, and they fight so much that it can't be hate…. Throw in the fact that their families despise each other, and their romance is basically predestined, written in the stars.
(And everyone sees this ohsoclearly, but they're still in the dark.)
"Is it Halloween already, Weasley?" he drawls, raising his eyebrows at her. "You got the lion's mane down pat, but where's the rest of your costume?"
Rose smirks at him, not bothering to smooth her unruly red curls. "I wish it was, Malfoy. Maybe you'd be able to find a mask that's a bit more attractive than…this." She waves her hand at his general direction disdainfully, and he scowls and mutters something foul under his breath that's clearly directed at her.
(It's a thin line they're dancing on between bickering and flirting, and okay, maybe they know it, and maybe they secretly love the thrill of it all.)
She always carries around a volume of Shakespeare, and he mocks her for it because, really, who likes Shakespeare?
She laughs and tosses her hair and calls him uneducated. And she quotes passages at him, mainly from her favorite, Romeo and Juliet.
Scorpius mocks, but he always stays and listens.
(But they both miss the parallels between the Capulets and the Montagues and their own lives.)
She's in the library for hours one day, and really, that's not so much a surprise. But none of her friends are with her, and she missed lunch and Charms, and okay, maybe Scorpius noticed. And maybe he was a little concerned.
He finds her sitting in a corner, her face so glum he can no longer pretend he's not worried. "What's up, Weasley?" he asks awkwardly.
She looks at him vaguely and shrugs. "Nothing you'd care about."
Scorpius, surprising himself, leans over and touches her arm. "Try me."
She shrugs again. "I thought I might have a chance with Lysander. Stupid, really, but everyone said…" She shakes her head and forces a smile. "Anyway, he's with Molly now."
Scorpius thinks her fake, too-bright smile coupled with the pain in her eyes is the most heartbreaking thing he's ever seen. "Lysander's an idiot," he says bluntly, "if he doesn't see that he could have had you, Rose Weasley."
Rose looks at him as if she's seeing him for the first time (and maybe she is) and gives him a small, watery, but genuine smile. "Thanks."
"You're kind of amazing," Scorpius blurts out, blushing.
She tucks in an unruly curl behind her ear and giggles. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."
They grin at each other awkwardly for a moment and Scorpius tries to leave. "Wait," Rose says quickly. "You can stay. If you want." She flushes prettily, and Scorpius sits back down.
"Okay," he agrees, and lays his hand over hers.
(And maybe he's not just being nice, or doing it out of pity, and maybe she knows it.)
And then, just like that, it's less taunting and more shy smiling; less bickering and more flirting; less awkwardness and more friendship.
Everyone laughs and nudges each other, because, really, who couldn't have seen this coming? Scorpius and Rose ignore them because they're too busy testing this… thing out to care much about what others say.
It's a gradual shift from their newfound friendship to dating, but it happens fairly quickly, and all of a sudden, they're walking hand-in-hand and quoting poetry at each other.
Once the word leaves the confines of Hogwarts, the letters come in a flood. Rose meets Scorpius after breakfast one morning, holding a five page letter and laughing. "It's from my dad," she says, rolling her eyes fondly. "Detailing every single reason why we shouldn't be in the same room together."
Scorpius smirks and holds up a similar letter. "My dad was 'too upset to write,'" he says, dismissing this easily with a wave of his hand, "so my mum wrote me a lovely letter about what a disaster this will turn out to be."
Rose raises her eyebrows. "And what do you think?"
"Screw 'em," Scorpius says, throwing the letter over his shoulder, and wrapping Rose in his arms.
"My thoughts exactly," Rose giggles, kissing him grandly as her letter joins his on the floor.
(And yeah, falling in love is the biggest cliché of all, but they're too wrapped up in each other to care.)