I laugh, spinning joyfully in the rain. He catches me in his arms, kissing me in that way—the way that makes fireworks shimmy through my veins, the way that makes me forget everything outside of us. We pull away and run, hand-in-hand, jumping gracelessly over the low stone wall, then dart across the grass and between the flowerbeds in a reckless attempt to lose ourselves in the Malfoy gardens.

And it's not reckless only because our fathers were childhood rivals at Hogwarts, nor just because I'm a member of the Blood Traitor Weasley Family, and indeed, neither of those facts would likely bother Draco Malfoy these days. The real reason our escapade is so reckless is waiting for Scorpius up at the Manor in the stunningly painful form of his newly-wed wife. A woman whom I'm sure is trying desperately hard not to peer out her bedroom window as she feigns ignorance to the activities of her husband.

It's all so wrong, I know, but when I'm with him each moment just feels so deliriously right, and as we dance through the trees and the flowers so heavily burdened beneath the rain, I just want to stay right here forever—to capture this moment and to remember it always. Because when I'm with him it's so hard not to get caught up in the perfection of everything. And he makes me feel so fearless. Indestructible. Free.

And then he goes back to her. He always will—to honour his father, to uphold the Malfoy name. And can I really blame him for putting his own family before me? One step on the metaphorical staircase, leading steadily to the supposed restoration of the Malfoy family's standing.

Jessica. The name sends a rush of ice through my veins. I console myself with the fact that it's just an arranged marriage; they don't love each other. But it never works. The guilt is almost unbearable, and it grows greater every day. I know it's killing him, too.

We stop at the heart of the maze of foliage, and he pulls me gently to him. A kiss—so flawless, so perfect… But it's not, it never is, and I have to remind myself; I have to remember that tonight is the last.

I pull back hesitantly, and he can see it in my eyes. He knows me so well…

"I know," he says softly—just loud enough to be heard over the rain. "I've—I've been thinking about it, too."

My smile is shaky and I can feel the tears burning viciously behind my eyes. "Can we just pretend a little longer, Scorpius? I—If this is it, I don't want it to be sad. Let's just pretend tonight's like every other night."

I watch him gather his strength for me and bloody hell I love this man. "In that case, milady, might I have this dance?"

My smile is brighter now. "Why of course, good sir."

He sweeps me into his arms, and leads me about the small courtyard with all his well-bred grace, and we laugh and we talk and it's just like always. I force myself to forget once more, and the world gleams with fresh perfection.

And when we part hours later, it's with that same flawless kiss, and the same hushed 'I love yous,' and I don't cry, and he doesn't betray his thoughts.

Fearless.