Kiss
Most people doubted that a Malfoy and a Weasley could ever be friends. And given the personalities of Scorpius and Rose, at first it seemed likely that the families' animosity towards each other would live on. They were opposites in nearly every regard. She was brash and confident; He was a reserved introvert. Rose preferred sunrises; Scorpius favored sunsets. She had dozens of friends; He had Rose and Albus. Scorpius studied constantly; Rose was an excellent student, but extremely lazy about studying. Scorpius ate slowly, chewing each bite with care; Rose, coming from a large family, inhaled her food before it could disappear onto the plates of others. She tended to overreact; He was always composed. Rose cried easily and wore her emotions on her sleeve; Scorpius did not know how to handle tears. She excelled in Charms; He was excellent at Potions. The list went on and on.
The pair were very different people, but when it came to overthinking, the two were united in the tendency. Rose's came in the form of a mindless stream of consciousness, her brain a hum of random yet somehow connected thoughts and ideas. She often shared her thoughts with others without a filter, looking for a release of the buildup of rapid fire thoughts whirling around in her mind. Scorpius was similar, but instead of sharing every thought with others, he often kept them to himself. Particularly when it was a strong emotion, he would often get caught up in every insignificant detail of the moment, letting it ruminate in his mind far past its welcome.
At the moment, Rose was thinking about Scorpius. This was nothing new, he never strayed far from her thoughts.
Rose knew that Scorpius loved the Weird Sisters and that his toothbrush was green. He wouldn't bother to button his shirts correctly but always made his bed. When he slept, he curled into himself and sometimes he snored. His eyes were the color of the Black Lake on an overcast day, but they would turn steely in moments of anger and frustration. She knew one million little things about Scorpius Malfoy but when he approached her out of the blue under their tree at the Black Lake and kissed her, her mind went completely blank.
It didn't happen the way it always did in the muggle movies. She hadn't just dashed to the airport to make a sweeping declaration of unbridled love. She didn't crash his wedding. It didn't happen on a romantic beach at sunset.
No, her first kiss with Scorpius happened in possibly the most mundane way possible, but she couldn't imagine it happening any other way.
The air was swollen with humidity, just like his lips were. She thought maybe this was another day dream, but he felt so solid in her arms.
Rose looked up, lips slightly parted in question.
He leaned in and kissed her again, sweet and quiet, exactly the way she expected. The world seemed to lapse into silence, the warmth of his closeness enveloping them.
Then, when she kissed him back, shy and tender, both of their minds went pleasantly blank.
Their lips met, melted, and her heart beat into his throat, pulsing along the heated, shared air between them. He was so soft as his hands roamed down her torso to wrap around her waist and she pressed her curves into his. They both moaned at the sensation of that first real kiss as they pulled apart and were persuasively drawn together.
In mere moments, the greed became a consuming, fiery coercion starting in her belly and moving outwards to burn and pound through every vein and artery in her body. She knew she would never get enough of this, of him.
His expression softened. "Rose," he whispered, so quietly she almost missed it. The way he said her name, so affectionate and tender, brought a feverish warmth to her cheeks. An odd sort of ache clutched in her chest, as though her heart was trying to contain the happiness threatening to escape her.
Seconds later he was detached from her and beaming like he'd always meant to do that, like he just hadn't gotten around to it yet, and she just laughed, by Merlin what else was there to do?
"I can't tell you how long I've been thinking about doing that." He had a befuddled expression, as if he too expected to wake up from a dream at any moment.
"Me too," she giggled.
It was perfect.
Somehow, out of all their differences, this was something they both knew was right, perfect. They balanced each other.
They both went on to overthink those simple first kisses, replaying them over and over in their minds until they had a chance to simply stop thinking and kiss again.