The path she's taking through the trees is a familiar one, but then, she was never looking for something before. She reads carefully over the note in her hand again, focusing on the last word, 'circle'.
Circles are all around her, like it's some crazy dream. Circles have been carved into the trees, from which circular berries grow. There is a bright pink hula hoop leaning against one particular tree, its form perhaps the most obvious circle of all, and the string tied around it that keeps it in place cannot help but conform to just as circular a shape. Circular haloes of prismatic light reflect upon the ground.
But this is a special circle she must find - unless, of course, he is merely torturing her. It would be so very Slytherin of him to do so, but then he's repeatedly insisted throughout their friendship that he is no mere Slytherin. He's also said that she should have been sorted into Slytherin herself, and she is certainly not someone who's prone to torturing others.
Normally.
"Hm," she says now, thoughtfully fingering a long lock of hair as her lynx eyes survey their surroundings from as many angles as possible. For a moment she is an amateur photographer with her very first camera - ever eager for a subject, but unable to imagine what sort of picture could do her curiosity justice.
And then the wind blows a large, fresh rose petal, as red as her hair, down a hill that leads to her feet, and it is a foreign element to this very green scene.
"Hm," she says again, as she begins walking, purposefully, away from the trees and up the hill toward the Quidditch pitch.
That's when she spots it. A huge circle of rose petals, sitting off to one side of the pitch, the side that's carefully concealed behind the broom shed.
Or, at least, it's concealed to all but those who fly over it. She'd never have found it if the wind hadn't revealed its secret. Perhaps he expected her to fly to find it? It sounds like something he would expect.
In any case, she's smiling.
When she reaches it, the circle looks even larger than it did from a distance. It must have taken at least two dozen roses to make, she realizes, and the thought of this makes her feel strangely dizzy. There is a large basket in the middle of the circle, and, just as she goes to open it, she hears a voice.
"Lily Luna Potter, don't you have a class to go to?"
She jumps. The voice is sharp and cross and very much like McGonagall's, and yet, McGonagall's voice does not have that unmistakable drawl...
Someone behind her now clears his throat, so clearly a male, and she grins, knowing.
But when she turns around, no-one is there.
"Hm," she says for the third time, turning back to the basket. But then the basket opens of its own accord, a blanket floating out of it to spread upon the ground, and she shrieks and backs into something that says 'Oof!' as the basket floats lazily down onto the blanket and spills out an assortment of tasty-looking sandwiches.
"There you are," says Lily. "You have Al's invisibility cloak, don't you?"
The figure's 'yes' response is to pull her beneath it and smirk at her, as smirking is something he does well.
"Scorpius! I almost had a heart attack when that blanket just came to life..."
"Shh...you don't want a real professor to hear you, do you?" He reaches out to smooth back her hair, to tuck the tips of the bangs she's been trying to grow out behind her ears.
She looks at him quizzically, but not unpleasantly. "I suppose not...I wouldn't want them to come up and not even notice we're out here, after all."
"Oh, I'm sure Professor McGonagall knows all about this cloak. And if she doesn't, Longbottom definitely does."
"Al would kill you if you got it confiscated."
"Then you'd better be good."
"But I'm not the one sneaking..."
"Shh." He runs a finger down her cheek, and he's giving her a peculiar look now, which in her opinion makes it appear that he's thinking of devouring her. He's looked at her like this before - in fact, he's looked at her like this, periodically, for as long as she can remember. Just...never quite this close-up, or while beneath an invisibility cloak with her.
It's much different this way.
"Don't look at the ground, Lily, look at me."
She obliges, now very red in the face. "T-thank you for this," she says. "It's really nice of you to invite me out here for a picnic, even if you made me /look/ for it."
He's smiling at her now. "You're welcome." He leans over to whisper in her ear. "You're also blushing like crazy."
Her smile is wide, nervous, and directed at the ground. "I'm not..."
He cups her face in his hands and turns it up. "You are."
She looks resolutely at his ear. "It's just the strange lighting under this thing."
He rubs a thumb across her lips experimentally, and her cheeks are now thoroughly scarlet. "Oh no, no, it's not." His voice is heavier, thicker, and his face is coming closer.
She closes her eyes just in time to feel his lips brush hers - just barely skin against skin, and very brief, though it feels so much more intimate and lingering.
When he pulls away, he's studying, if not scrutinizing, her face.
Everything in her field of vision is suddenly snapshot clear, luminously pure, and yet it all seems to swim in space. His slightly lowered eyelids and very fierce, concentrated, /dark/ gray gaze fill her with a sort of terrified wonder - he's definitely never looked at her like this before, nor has anyone else. "I...I...my goodness," she says, without remembering to breathe.
He laughs, sounding as breathless as she is, and then his hands are on her face again. He pulls her to him this time, sealing his lips over hers more boldly, more confidently.
She makes a noise of surprise, but then she's kissing him back, which is even more surprising to her, because it doesn't feel like a conscious action at all. It's instinctive, nevermind that it's her first /real/ kiss - she doesn't know what to do and yet she does. She feels like she should be more nervous, but then she remembers that nervousness is a conscious feeling.
"Lily," he says against her lips, and his hands comb through her hair as he draws back perhaps an inch so he can look at her.
Her lips feel hot, swollen, and tingly, and apparently they look it too, as his finger now moves to trace them. She looks down, but she can feel his eyes burning into hers, imprinting them with so many images and emotions that it's almost overwhelming.
"You are so, so beautiful," he says, and then he's pulling her forward again, kissing her again. He places soft, featherlight kisses all over her face, stopping to look at her after each one. "That's better," he says once he finally has her looking back at him, though he seems to thoroughly enjoy her shyness.
They just stare at each other for a long moment, his eyes wavering between tenderness and excitement, and then something akin to disbelief; her body weightless and strangely warm as she tries to keep from looking down again, from shying away.
"So," she says shakily. "How about those sandwiches?"