Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. No wait; change that to anything, in case someone decides to sue me for grammar.
Promise
"This is so wrong, "he manages to whisper, and she grins wickedly, perfectly against his lips, and responds, "I know."
:oh my, oh my:
This is so new, so incredible. And his hands don't feel like his own anymore, they trail uncertainly, possessively across her cheek, down her neck. She sighs, a whisper in the sea-soaked briny air, and leans into his touch like she belongs there. Her eyes flutter shut. He uses the opportunity to drink in the spectacle of her flushed, beautiful face, her kiss-swollen lips, her pale skin offset by the tinge of a blush on her cheeks. To memorise this moment.
:i never want to forget this:
Her fingers, meanwhile, work nimbly with his shirt buttons, and she pushes it off his shoulders once they are undone. He shivers at the sudden brush of the cool sea air.
:dear Merlin-she's driving me crazy:
He suddenly gasps. Her fingers, which had been trailing across his chest, have reached his abdomen, and he feels a sudden flare of pure, unadulterated lust. He pulls her to him, and kisses her roughly, nipping at her full, red lips, trying to meld their souls together. Oh, he's never felt this way about anybody. He tries to pull her closer, but they're already close as can be. Oh, this is so wrong, and so unreal, because she is Rose Weasley, and he is Scorpius Malfoy.
And she's always been the girl with the challenging smile-or the smile all the guys seem to take as a challenge, but who can tell the difference-and the forever-shining eyes, the one who lives life as if it's a song and she's a dancer. And he's always been the guy-well, he's never been anyone, really. He's faded into the grey stone walls of Hogwarts and tried to stay out of everyone's way, worshipping her in wordless agony and trying to hide it from everyone(not that it worked-Al figured out soon enough).Because he can't speak-he can't speak in front of anyone(except maybe Albus and his family),and especially not her.
:but she kissed me:
A moonlit walk on the beach-in retrospect, such a cliché-, talking about their deepest emotions, their dreams and ambitions (how did they even end up there? She usually never talked to him),the waves with their gentle roaring a soothing, swelling background music to that charmed movie scene, and she grabbed him by the collar of his button-down shirt and melded her lips to his. And now fingers are daringly fluttering across expanses of tantalising unbroken never-seen-before skin, and lips soon follow across those same stretches. And maybe this is just adolescent heat, but it feels like so much more, like she was born to end up in his arms, made just for him.
:maybe this is a dream:
After all, he does feel like some character in a movie, or maybe one of the boys in the alt-rock songs she likes so much. They're six feet under the stars, and he feels like laughing at his own hackneyed mind.
:i love the sound of her laughter:
She's laughing, right now, at the expression on his face(which he realises with some embarrassment borders on blissful-dear Merlin, what happened to 'reserved' Scorpius Malfoy?),and runs a finger across his chest, his abdomen-and oh, now he knows what his sensitive spot is-and finally trails it just above the waistband of his pants. And suddenly he's not so certain about that earlier judgement about his sensitive spot. Merlin, he would die right now, if Heaven was this. If Heaven was her.
:and it's still so, so wrong:
But he doesn't care anymore, and they're falling into the sand and it's getting everywhere, in her dress, in his pants, and he tangles his fingers in her russet hair, and they're kissing, kissing, and it's not fireworks, it's not sparks, it's not colours blooming behind his eyes, and it's doesn't feel like the thrill of meaningless sex either, because quiet as he may be he's still had plenty of that. It feels like the home he's never known, it feels like he was living his life in black-and-white until now, and she brought Technicolor in, with her smile and her eyes.
He trails kisses along her neckline, up to her ear,and then down her shoulder,and she's suddenly in his power once again,moaning quietly and clutching onto his shoulder,and he watches, mesmerised, because the fragile, beautiful girl in his arms is an enchanting stranger, so different from the Rose Weasley he's always known. And he wants to know this stranger better-wants to dedicate his life to the same purpose.
:so how does the world matter,when it's the two of us?:
And he knows suddenly that anything that their forefathers might have said or thought or done does not, will not determine what they will do. In a moment of picture-perfect clarity, he knows that if he has to he would wander the earth for her, this beautiful, beautiful girl. There is no certain way to tell. Yet somehow he knows that he's in love. As she tangles her finger in his father's chain, the one he wears always, inadvertently (or maybe completely on purpose) pulling him closer to herself, he somehow feels that tonight, he has become inextricably linked to her.
The rest of his life is a long time. And it would be foolish and premature to promise it to one person. Especially right now, right here, and to her.
He fears, however, that he already has.
:and a promise is a promise-beautifully binding:
A/N: Boo.I hates it when I lose inspiration right in the middle of writing. It took so long to finish the last few paragraphs...whew. But I'm glad that I saw it through, because this is officially my very first Scorose story. Yayiee!
I was originally going to write some sex into this, but I quailed and this overtook me instead. So I think it's maybe kind of sloppy...tell me what you think. :)
Stuff within colons is Scorpius's thoughts, for those of you who didn't figure that out. Review, please.