Chapter 29: Scorpius II

I jolted when I heard the sound of my name being called. I sat up on my elbows, and looked down as Rose shifted from where she was resting on my chest, but she looked otherwise undisturbed. I shook my head with a smile. She was the heaviest sleeper of any person I had ever known in my life. I could swear that if I screamed in that moment she wouldn't even flinch.

I sat up a bit more and stretched, yawning and feeling my limbs scream in protest. I looked down at Rose, who had slid down my chest to my stomach as I had sat up in bed. Her cheek was resting against my stomach and she was still deep in sleep. I smiled and reached down to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, while my heart started to race like it did every time I touched her. I could watch her like this all day—slumbering peacefully on me, her beautiful face calm and undisturbed with sleep. I loved looking at her. It had started to become one of my favorite pastimes.

Rose was breathing softly. I could feel the light puffs on my skin as I ran my hand along her milky cheek. Unconsciously, she leaned into my touch. And that movement—the movement that said that even in her sleep she couldn't resist my touch—nearly drove me mad. I wanted to wake her and start again on what we'd been doing just a few hours ago, but I was conflicted because I also just wanted to watch her sleep. She was naked, and I could feel her breasts against my hip. I—

My heart leapt and my thoughts of Rose were interrupted when I heard my name again and I realized it was coming from my sitting room. Frowning and trying carefully not to disturb Rose, I shifted and slid out of bed as she curled up into a tight ball and continued to sleep. I looked at the small, antique clock on my desk and saw that it was just a bit past six in the morning. Rose and I had just finally gone to sleep a few hours ago. I could feel my muscles straining from overexertion as I stretched again and looked around for my boxers which were thrown somewhere on the ground. I was going to have to start doing more than just flying if I wanted to stay in shape for all the extracurriculars Rose and I were up to constantly. I grinned at the thought.

Then I heard my name again, and I yanked my boxers on before rushing into my sitting room, still half incoherent from sleep and thoughts of my girl.

When I got into the room, I looked around and immediately noticed that my fireplace was lit up with green flames and there was a head floating inside it.

"Dad?"

"Hi, son."

"It's early," I said with a yawn, squatting down in front of the fire.

He frowned. "You've always been an early riser. I thought you'd be awake."

I shrugged. "Long night." I tried not to smile at the thought. My father could always pick up on my little subtle expressions.

My father smirked. "Those idiotic first years have you grading the worst essays you've ever seen?"

I laughed. "They aren't so idiotic."

"You're a good teacher if you think that."

I just smiled. "What's up?"

"I spoke with my guy," he said.

I straightened a bit. "And?"

"He was completely on board. Said he loved it the first time and had been planning on asking for more anyway."

I exhaled. "Awesome. Thanks, dad."

He nodded. "Do you want to tell me why you were so hell-bent on this?"

I shrugged. "I made a mistake that I wanted to rectify."

He studied me for a moment with the eyes that looked so much like my own. He seemed to be considering something, but then he apparently thought better of it, just shaking his head slightly. "Okay. You look exhausted, Scorpius. You should probably get back to bed."

"Yeah," I said, yawning again. I was completely knackered. I'd worn myself out last night, but I couldn't help it. Rose was just so fucking irresistible. When I'd woken up in the middle of the night and seen her there looking sexy and beautiful, I just couldn't stop myself from waking her up and taking her again and again. How could I? She baffled and confused me and turned me on so much that it was almost unbearable. I didn't understand it.

"How's mum?" I asked, not wanting to be rude to my father and rushing him away when he had just done me a huge favor. Plus, I did miss my parents.

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes. "She's up to something, but she won't tell me."

I chuckled. "It's your anniversary next week, isn't it?"

He nodded. "She always has to be ridiculous with it." He sounded agitated, but I knew better. I knew he loved that my mother cared so much about him and their relationship. He always pretended to be indifferent, but I could see it in his eyes. Like he could read me, my father was essentially an open book to my eyes. I could almost always tell what he was thinking. And when my mum would buy him a small gift just to say she loved him or when she would kiss him on the forehead every morning when she came down to breakfast (always so much later than he had come down because she spent so much time getting herself ready, something he also pretended to hate but I knew he secretly thought it was charming), I could always see in his eyes that he adored her. He wasn't good at saying it, but I could always remember one time when my father had let a rare glimpse of his inner thoughts out. I was twelve.

"Do you love mum?" I asked. I was home for Christmas break and a girl at Hogwarts had just told me that she was madly in love with me. I didn't even know what it meant.

"Of course I do," my father said, watching her as she floated around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the two of us. Then he got quiet as he watched her. "Your mother saved my life."

I remembered that even as a twelve-year-old, I knew that what my father was saying to me was significant. I had never, ever forgotten that. And I never would.

I smiled, thinking about how much my mom adored my father. "Aww, she loves you."

Just then, I heard a noise from the other room, and I jerked my head over before I could stop myself.

"What was that?" my father asked.

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing. Look, I should go." I heard more noise from the other room, and I got suddenly nervous. I was terrified of what would happen if Rose walked in here and my father saw her. "Can I floo you and mum later?"

My father was frowning and looking at me with suspicion in his eyes, but he just said, "Of course. I love you, son."

"Love you, too, dad," I said before I closed the floo connection with a flick of my wand and made sure to lock it so he couldn't come back unannounced. Just when I had stood up again and thrown my wand back on the coffee table, Rose walked into the room, and my heart stopped.

She was wrapped in my black sheet—one hand fisting the sheet around her, and the other hanging at her side—her long, auburn hair cascading down around her milky shoulders that were covered in a smattering of freckles. The black of the sheets made the freckles on her shoulders stand out, and I couldn't help but look at them and think about how beautiful she was. Her eyes were heavy from sleep, but that didn't stop me from being awed by her incredibly blue eyes.

"Hi," she said, her voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

I smiled and walked up to her, gripping her shoulders in my hands and leaning in to kiss her. She immediately tilted her head back, and I thrilled in her response—she always just practically gave herself to me. She did it when we kissed, when we made love, and basically any time I came near her.

When I pulled away, I looked down at the hand by her side when I saw her rub her thumb across the tips of her fingers. I smiled. I didn't understand it, but I had noticed a few weeks ago that she always seemed to do that after I kissed her or when we were like this. I kept meaning to ask her about it, but I didn't want to make her self-conscious about it because I didn't want her to stop. For some reason, I was enamored by it.

Rose opened her eyes slowly, and I smiled at the way she looked—like she always did—all disheveled and apparently caught off guard by my kiss.

After she took a deep breath and seemed to gather herself, she spoke. "I heard voices."

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, my father flooed."

She raised her eyebrows.

I laughed. "What?"

"A lot of things."

I smirked. "Like?"

"Like it's early on a Saturday. Does your father always floo you this early?"

"Sometimes," I said. "I'm a morning person. I'm usually up at this time."

She stared at me for a moment and then she burst out laughing, dropping her head into my chest as she shook with laughter. I tilted her chin up and looked at her with an arched eyebrow, grinning. "What?"

She shook her head. "I'm just…" she laughed. "I'm just not a morning person," she said. "Like… at all."

I arched an eyebrow. "I would have never known that," I said. "You always seem… ready to go in the morning."

She gaped and leaned back to punch me in the shoulder, making me laugh. "Dick," she said.

"Exactly."

She rolled her eyes, and I laughed even harder as she pulled away from me and walked over to my bed. God, just seeing her sitting there with her legs crossed and her hair all mussed made me want her. I wanted her so badly and so constantly that sometimes it hurt. I had never felt that feeling in my life, but I felt it so acutely when I was with her—and when I was without her.

I walked over and moved to sit on my bed across from her, one leg bent in front of me and the other hanging off the edge of the bed. I caught her looking at my bare chest, and I couldn't help but swell with pride and desire. She always wanted me as badly as I wanted her. She was still wrapped in my sheet and I desperately wanted to pull it off her—I wanted to see what was underneath—I always wanted to see.

Rose was looking at me with reverence and lust and joy in her eyes. I thought I saw something else, but I wasn't sure.

The other night after she had come back from the hospital and we had spent the whole night together, she had been drifting off to sleep when I heard something that both terrified and excited me.

She had been vulnerable, and I knew that. We'd been making love all night—leaving both of us spent and raw—and she had just come back from the hospital after thinking she was going to lose her father. She and I hadn't talked in days because I had been too stubborn and scared to talk to her about what was going on. I knew that she was emotional, and so was I. I had been terrified. My feelings for her had been growing too fast and too strong, and they were becoming unbearable, all-consuming. I wanted to be around her constantly, and when I wasn't, I missed her. Every time I saw her I was so unbelievably turned on and desperate for her that it became a problem, especially while we were in class. I wanted her like I had never wanted anything, and I was scared. So it seemed that when I thought McGonagall was onto us, it was the perfect excuse to end things before they got too intense.

But then her father had gone into the hospital, and McGonagall told me and the other professors that he wouldn't make it—she told us so that we could all give support to Rose and Hugo in the coming months. All I wanted to do was hold her and be there for her, and I knew then that I was already in too deep. I couldn't be without her, and it was time that I just admitted it to myself more than anything. I'd seen that fool Underwood at the hospital, and the jealousy that had reared up like a lion inside me—trying to claw at my chest and get out—had nearly overwhelmed me.

And then she was there. She was outside my door looking vulnerable and beautiful, and I couldn't say no. I wanted her too much, and I knew she wanted me.

I knew we were both raw, and I knew she was exhausted, but I also knew what I heard.

"I love you."

I'd said "sweet dreams," and as she was drifting she had curled closer to me and murmured that she loved me. I didn't even know if she knew she'd said it at the time or if she had remembered it later. I doubted that she had or she certainly would have said something because I hadn't said it back. It scared me because we'd only known each other for about a month and a half, and we'd only been seeing each other for a few weeks, but I knew what I felt, and I knew that I loved her, too. If it wasn't love, I didn't know what it was. When I looked at her, I saw perfection—her milky, perfect skin with occasional freckles, her big blue eyes, her long, wavy auburn hair that I loved to bury my hands in, her body that had curves in all the right places, her legs for days, her lips. I loved the feeling of her breasts in my hands and in my mouth. I loved the feeling of being inside her, and when I wasn't inside her it felt like something was missing—like I was so thirsty and nothing ever quenched the thirst except for our connection.

It wasn't just what I saw on the outside, though. She was funny. She would laugh and her smile would light up the room. She would make me laugh even when I didn't want to. She was strong. If anything that I'd seen with her and Underwood and the situation with her father had showed me anything, it was that Rose was strong. She didn't want to be taken advantage of and she didn't want to let her guard down. But she loved fiercely. She loved her cousin and her parents and her brother and certainly her uncle—along with the rest of her family. She was talented and passionate and smart, and I admired her and revered her, and I'd never known anyone like her, and it was obvious.

I was in love with her.

But I didn't know if she was truly in love with me. She hadn't said it to me, and she'd been so vulnerable at the time. So I decided I would wait. I decided I would wait until we had been together longer and until we knew each other better—even though I already felt I knew her better than I knew almost anyone—and until the dust had settled a bit more. I wanted Underwood out of her life completely, but I didn't know how to tell her. He was clearly smitten with her and who knew what he would do if she said no—obviously he didn't respect that. But I'd seen her with him and her friends and family the other day, and I knew he was a part of her life. But I wanted him out. Now.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jolted a bit and looked at her. "You."

I glanced down when I saw her rubbing her thumb across the tips of her fingers again. She always did that, and I didn't know why. Maybe it was just some kind of nervous habit she had picked up. I didn't even know if she was aware that she was doing it, but she did it often. It made me smile.

"What about me?" Her chinks pinked a bit, and I smiled.

"How sexy you are. How incredible you are in general."

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "Tell me you're staying in bed with me all day."

She smiled. "You have no idea how badly I want to."

"So you are?"

She rolled her eyes and I smirked even though I felt a pang of sadness at the thought that she was going to have to leave our bubble. "I have to check on my brother," I said. "And I'm going to have lunch with my parents in Hogsmeade. McGonagall's letting me and Hugo go since we weren't there yesterday when Ron got to leave the hospital."

"Fine," I said, trying not to smile about the fact that she always called her parents by their first names. "I'll allow that." She rolled her eyes again. "What about after?"

"I've gotta see Al," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sure he's worried. And we're going to play a little tonight. It's been a while."

I knew it was irrational for me not to want her to go. She had only become my girlfriend yesterday morning, and I knew she needed to see her family. It wasn't normal for us to be around each other all day, every day.

"When can I see you?" I asked.

She scrunched up her nose in a ridiculously adorable way. "Probably not until tomorrow, fritz. Practice will get done late. Hugo wants to have a Quidditch practice tomorrow morning, too."

I sighed. It's fine. You don't have to see her constantly. Chill. "All right, I guess I can live without you for that long."

Rose smiled and pushed herself up on her knees so she could crawl across the bed. She stopped on all fours with her hands on either side of me and kissed me gently. "It won't be too long, boyfriend," she said when she pulled back a bit, her lips brushing mine. It was then that I noticed that the sheet had slipped off her, leaving her breasts and torso exposed. I groaned.

"Tell me you've got some time for me right now," I said.

She nodded and smiled, moving so she could shrug out of the sheet the rest of the way and straddle me. "I've got about an hour, fritz," she said. "You better make it count."

I'd like to think that I did.

Next chapter:

"I shouldn't be so mad about not being able to spend a night with you. I should be able to live without you."