Author's Note: I do not own the plot or characters of Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling.
Written for Luck O' The Irish Seamione's Speak through Songs Challenge. Nearly 4 full months too late to meet the deadline, but the plot bunny could not be contained forever.
~x~
"Please say to me, you'll let me be your man,
And please say to me, you'll let me hold your hand."
-I Want to Hold Your Hand, The Beatles
::Scorpius/Lily::
~x~
"Oi, Potter!"
The redheaded girl doesn't even turn around. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she spits out, quickening her pace. If the git really wants to tell me anything interesting, he'll have to keep up.
"What do I want?" Scorpius Malfoy repeats, following her through the snow-covered Hogsmeade streets. "Really, Potter? Well, I want a whole lot of things, none that should concern you. Why don't you keep your little Gryffindor nose out of other people's business?"
This time, the girl does turn. In fact, she stops right in her tracks, shooting daggers with her eyes. "Honestly, do you just go around bothering people for fun? Don't you have anything better to do? Can't you leave me alone for once?"
He opens his mouth to deliver a smart answer, but then stops. Something sparks inside of him then, something he's not quite sure he doesn't like. "Fine. Have it your way." He glares back before stalking briskly away.
~x~
The next time they meet is exactly three months and five days later. The sun is shining brightly over the late May landscape, but two students chose instead to be between Kettle and Kneen with books stacked far above their heads. They are, of course, Scorpius Malfoy and Lily Luna Potter. Unsurprisingly, they are studying for their upcoming N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. exams, respectively.
Muttering spells and dates under their breaths, each hardly seems to notice the other's presence. But this is not the case. The young Malfoy has been awaiting his chance ever since the fateful encounter in mid-February. When the girl finally re-shelves the last book and reaches down to pick up her bag, he makes his move. "Lily."
The two syllables hang suspended in the air around them. He's practiced this for hours. It's what she least expects. Lily turns slowly, frowning slightly as she tries to figure out his motive. "What?"
The question from last time lingers in their minds. What do you want? When he makes no move to answer, she walks away, taking one last curious glance before she disappears from his sight.
~x~
Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station is, as it always is on this particular day in June, bustling with excitement. Students chatter with their friends and bid them farewell for the summer vacation while seeking out their parents for the first time since Easter.
One girl, though, isn't paying attention to her friends and family. Instead, she scans the platform for the flash of telltale blond hair. Finally, Lily spots him standing on the opposite end of the platform, his back facing towards her, and the corners of her mouth lift up into the ghost of a smile.
It's not like she cares that she'll probably never see him again or anything; she just didn't want to forget. But what was there to remember, really? Five years worth of teasing and quarreling- it was a known fact that Malfoys and Potters were incapable of getting along, coupled with a few awkward encounters, so much less than it could have been. But they had never really hated each other, when it came down to it. All that had truly separated them were old family quarrels and baseless stereotypes. But alas, this was the end of it.
She watches for a second more before sighing and turning back to her mum and dad.
~x~
A warm breeze ruffles the curtains in the little house. Outside, Lily hears the sounds of children playing, a dog barking, leaves rustling. Little does she know, an owl glides gracefully through the air with a letter for her. When she notices the majestic brown bird sitting on her windowsill, she can't fathom what sort of note it might be carrying. Surely, none of her friends' birds look like that. She's tempted to send the mysterious bird back to its owner, but as she's about to shoo the creature out the window, her curiosity gets the better of her.
She holds her breath in anticipation, carefully unrolling the parchment the owl was carrying. She is surprised to see that the letter holds neither address nor signature, only a quote from an old Muggle song. Once she registers the flowing script with with which the note is written, there is no doubt in her mind to whom it belongs. Slowly, for some inexplicable reason, she beams. Though only two lines long, the note holds a world of meaning.
~x~
"Please say to me, you'll let me be your man,
And please say to me, you'll let me hold your hand."
~x~
THE END.