"Why did you drag me here, Scorpious?" she giggled as the twirled into the colorless gazebo. It was that same kind of giggle that made his heart skip and his stomach summer-salt. Her red hair swooped behind her, the faintest streaks of brown etched on her roots.
"I came to ask you something." He said stiffly. He just couldn't copy her magnificent flare.
"And whatever would that be, Mr. Malfoy?" she said saucily. He couldn't help but smile at her attempt to look like a slut. It wasn't in her blood. Not Rose Weasley, at least.
The moonlight dappled in their wake, the blood-red roses sprouting out of some nearby bushes. Her fingers laced around into his as he coiled his free hand around her neck.
"That's a secret, Rosie." He said smiling. She pulled him by his shirt collar and pressed him to her lips. They were like poetry; they moved in and out together. His lips opened, hers opened. Then, they'd both envelope into a deeper kiss.
The magic was passion. Not wands or broomsticks. It was the feeling of each other; the magnitude between. Rose collapsed into his passion. She felt his love and shining memories as she ran her fingers through his silver blonde hair. Though they were not visible; there was a wholesomeness in his grey eyes.
Suddenly, he broke off. Instead of repaying her deep love, he ended the kiss with a swift movement of his lips.
He knelt down without even looking at her; the moon still danced on the translucent lake. She was a bit confused; Why did he leave? What is he doing? Is this a joke?
Suddenly, his icy white fingers formed around a red-leather cube. Despite his hair being a tossled mess, he looked as sharp as a knife. He was still wondering whether he could do this; but when he glanced wordlessly up at her liquid blue eyes, he knew what he had to do.
He was on one knee with his arm outstretched. In his palm, the leather cube still cradled between his pale fingers. Then, with his other hand, he opened the removable lid from the leathery box.
She gasped. Her mouth hung wide open like a 5-foot deep hole in the middle of her face.
A glittering, shining ring was craned between two folds of ebony velvet. It sparkled in the rolling winds and reflected on the moonlight. Her eyes were forever plastered upon that gleaming piece of jewelry.
"Rose Hermione Weasley, will you marry me?"
The words spilled from his mouth like water flowing from a tall, glass pitcher. He knew this was what he wanted all along. Nothing more than Rose Weasley to call his own. From the first time he had saw her up till this very night…he always thought…
Tears glazed in her eyes as she gaped down at the ring. He actually thought she would have declined his proposal until something completely magical happened.
Her pale finger slipped through the crater in the ring. She looked so stunning and beautiful…and especially complete with that new piece of jewelry upon her loftily finger.
"Yes." She said through her overflowing tears. She managed to form a smile between her peach lips, then collapsed to her fiancés side and showered him in kisses.
"Yes! Oh yes!"
He was too crying. A tear rolled down his cheek as he melt into a very passionate kiss.
The moonlight swept across her hair as the peeping frogs hummed to the rhythm of the night. Two roses were craned together at the base of the grey gazebo.
Those roses were the symbol of the lovers; two intersecting paths; both deep, burning reds. They were velvety and soft, yet mysterious and confusing. They're stems joined at the hip, an exquisite masterpiece in the making.
Forty-two years later, an elder man with silver blonde hair walks along the dirt path. He stalks his way over to a colorless gazebo, drowning in his own memories.
He twirls his plump body into the creaky ancient sculpture, to be closely followed by an elder lady with snowy white hair.
They laughed and tangles there selves in each other's arms. They giggle and smile, each passing minuet seems like years.
With one last peck on the cheek, the couple departs. They barely notice the fading red roses behind their feet. Both shed an ebony petal, one more year of their slow-moving lives.
A/N: My FIRST fanfic! So excited! :D I'm really a sucker for cheap, gooey fluff with a side of humor. Of course, I like everything else, but God knows I can only write short stories!
I'm not an R&R groupie, but feel free to R&R anytime you want. Unless you're a hater. Then go die in a hole! :P