"Expectation: More Than a Four Syllable Word" - A Gift for olgameisterfunk
Title: Expectation: more than a four syllable word.
Author: open_atclose
Gift For: olgameisterfunk
Summary: Rose can't help her feelings for Scorpius, despite what her family expects.
Rating: R
Warnings: Heavy petting, sexual references
Word Count: (if applicable) 2,240
Lyrics/Quotes Used:"We don't want to sleep tonight / Still young like that i count the lines / Beside your mouth that smiles now / My arms reach up as you go down / With buried heads we both forget
All of the past and its regret / Wind picks up, the window shakes / We won't hear the morning break". It's more referred to than used specifically, though.
A/N:I hope you like this! I tried to incorporate as many of your favourite things as I could, like angsty pining and secrets looks and touches, so enjoy!
Nights are the hardest time to be alone. You toss and turn in your cold, empty bed, wondering whether he's thinking of you as much as you're thinking of him, wishing and hoping that he would throw caution to the winds and come storming through the door, take you in his arms and never let you go again. Rose Weasley, lying wide awake in her four poster bed, knows all about lonely nights. Listening as thunder crashes overhead and rain lashes against the glass windows of the dormitory, her blue eyes stare up at a mutinous black sky that seems empty due to the heavy clouds covering the stars. She imagines that she can hear the raindrops whispering reckless secrets into her eager ears as they beat their paths down the pane of glass, reminding her that life was meant to be lived, that youth was too precious to waste, and that love, when it got under your skin, was not easily removed. In the stillness of the night images of a tall boy, his blonde hair glinting in pale sunlight, begin to dance across her mind in a choreographed routine that she knows all too well.
Despite the warnings from numerous family members she'd received since she was eleven years old, from the very beginning Rose could not help but follow his movements with her eyes, or accidentally drop behind every class in the hope that he would talk to her. Unfortunately for Rose, 'expectation' was more than just a four-syllable word; expectations ruled her life. Not her own expectations, of course. It didn't matter what she expected of herself, what she expected for her future. No, apparently what was supposed to matter more was everybody else's expectations. The expectations of her mother and father, two of three of the most respected, almost revered, citizens of the wizarding world, for her to do her best (but only if her best was the best) at everything she attempted, to uphold the noble family name...It went on. The day she waved off her parents as she boarded the Hogwarts Express had represented so much to Rose - she wasn't just starting school, she was starting a new chapter of her life, one that she hoped would be narrated by her, and nobody else. Don't be mistaken: Rose was very determined in her own right to do her best in everything. It was hard to differentiate between what she wanted to do because she wanted to do it, and what she did because her parents wanted her to. Scorpius Malfoy, though, definitely fell into the former category.
He had snagged her interest the very first moment she'd laid eyes on him, on Platform 9 3/4. He was the boy her parents had warned her about, after all, so the mystique associated with anything that had been forbidden was enough. She'd heard all too often the stories about Draco Malfoy and his antics both before and during the war, and the half-joking comments of her father about not getting too friendly with the younger Malfoy still rung in her ears. The first five years of her magical schooling, therefore, Rose remembered as a mixture of an intense curiosity for that which had been forbidden to her, and an equally intense fear of doing the wrong thing, of letting down her parents and not living up to their expectations. She attempted to immerse herself in her school work, her Gryffindor friends; the expectation that she would succeed was enough to keep her mind firmly on the work in front of her and very far away from the one Slytherin she had been banned from.
By the time Rose turned thirteen and started realising that the confusion of doing one thing and feeling another was not particularly conducive to anything good, Rose could tell that Scorpius Malfoy and all he represented was something she had to explore, and not just on her own in her four-poster bed once the lights had gone out. She plucked up her courage and began to talk to him, rather than about him, and she quickly discovered that the way he said her name made the pit of her stomach squirm in a pleasant sort of way, and that the spaces between her fingers seemed to have been created with his in mind. Since then, her every moment seemed to be filled with him, and despite everything she tried, Rose could not get him out of her mind. She battled on as his friend, trying to ignore the pitch in her heartbeat every time he entered a room, appearing as cool and collected on the surface as he did.
Lying restless in bed, with the storm raging outside reflecting her insides, Rose thinks back to the day that everything changed, the first day of their sixth year, when she'd arrived back at Hogwarts with a woman's body and a woman's needs to match. Her first thoughts had been to find Scorpius and explain to him just how much she needed him, how the friendship that had blossomed since their first conversation about the unusually warm October weather in third year had since burst into a flame much too high to control. They'd entered the Great Hall apart, separated by their respective houses and all the expectations that came with them, and while she usually looked for him before anyone else, Rose felt his silver-grey eyes boring into her back before she saw them. She'd turned and gazed at him over the heads of their peers and a thrill had passed through her body that had nothing to do with the ghosts that were passing idly by. Burning in his steely gaze was a desire that reflected her own, and she thought to herself that she clearly wasn't the only one who'd been shoved unceremoniously into the enemy camp by the persistent warnings of adults who knew far too little about youthful lust and love and everything else in between.
From that moment on, they'd met secretly at night in a room that only appeared when they had great need of it and each other, once the sun had gone to bed and taken with it the curious gazes and wagging tongues of their peers. At first they explored each other's bodies in the way that only sixteen year olds know how, fingertips spreading fire across bare skin, lips caressing and probing and tasting. The first night that they crossed the point of no return Rose had cried out in pain and Scorpius had stopped, worry etched in every line of his face. "Just go slowly," she'd whispered, dropping kisses onto his chest, the base of his throat, every inch of skin she could reach, as the pain turned to pleasure and she realised that no matter how many years she lived, she would just never have enough. Whether it was the taste of the forbidden fruit that sent scorches through her very being or not, Rose didn't know, but if it were she hoped to never gain permission for the sin she was committing.
The hours spent in classes or at meals, surrounded by people who would all-too-gleefully expound their carefully guarded secret as the newest piece of gossip, were unbearable, in the way that only sixteen year olds can understand. Rose always seated herself on the opposite side of wherever Scorpius was, careful not to brush against him as she passed, or touch his hand as she handed back the latest piece of homework under the careful gaze of teachers. She watched him under carefully hooded eyes and always smiled to herself when she caught him looking back at her. Whenever her guard slipped, though, and admittedly it happened quite a lot, Rose would close her eyes at his touch, relishing in the all too familiar thrill of electricity that passed from his fingertips onto her skin, slipping into her very bloodstream and sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout her body, pumped along by her now erratic heart.
Still in her lonely bed in the dormitory, her heart pumps a little faster as she thinks back to their last meeting, almost a week ago. She'd tried to break it off, knowing as she did that secrets were always revealed in the end, and that the heartbreak that was bound to occur wasn't worth the risk. She'd dropped her face in her hands and he'd looked staunchly away for a whole minute, before taking her roughly into his arms and shaking her. "I don't care what they think," he'd muttered angrily, wrenching her face upwards so that she could not avoid his gaze, his very fingertips seeming to leave bruises on her skin. "I just want you." Their lips had met with a fervour that could have destroyed the castle, and she vowed to never let expectation rule her life again. It wasn't a vow that was easy to keep, especially to herself, but neither was the one she'd whispered to her reflection all those years ago: You will not fall in love with him. It will never work, and the pleasure now isn't worth the future hurt.
Of course it is, she thinks now, her eyes staring up at the canvas above her bed, and in a split second she makes her decision. Sitting up, Rose throws her legs over the side and stands up as quickly and quietly as she can to avoid waking the other girls. Without pausing to cover her bare feet, dressed only in a simple white nightgown, Rose makes her way down the stairs into the common room. It's empty, as she expects it to be at a quarter past one in the morning, and with only a moment's hesitation she speeds out of the common room and through the empty corridors towards the Room of Requirement, where Scorpius is there waiting for her. He pulls her to him without a word, crashing his lips down onto hers and holding her with such force that she is momentarily breathless.
They fall into the room together, pulling off as they go articles of clothing that are suddenly in the way. By the time they reach the large bed that materialises in the middle of the room there is a trail of discarded scraps of fabric leading from the door. They tumble onto the bed as one, laughing in low voices at their urgency in this moment. Scorpius runs his long-fingered hands through the dark red, tangled mess of Rose's hair to cup her head and she shivers. Responding in kind, Rose none-too-gently drags her fingernails down his back and pulls him closer to her, capturing his lips between hers once more. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, relishing in the moan that it elicits from him, and can't help but tug gently at the flesh with her teeth. She moans herself as Scorpius' fingers trail mercilessly slowly from the base of her neck, across her shoulder blades, over her breasts and down her flat stomach, pausing at the apex of her thighs. The wet heat pulsing from her is enough for Scorpius and he wastes no more time, slipping into her to the sound of their mingled gasps and sighs. Rose at once feels complete, as if a piece of her had been missing, and she feels that all too-familiar feeling of intense gratification mixed curiously with an unquenchable need for more.
Opening her eyes, Rose lies still for a moment, once more staring up at the canvas above her four-poster bed, the curtains pulled closed to shield her from the rest of the room. Outside, the storm from the previous night has been replaced with the chirping of many birds fluttering in and out of the trees, and Rose rises to her knees to look down upon the grounds. She leans her head against the cool glass and brushes her fingertips across her lips, which feel bruised and swollen, two flaming red beacons declaring to everyone her evening's exploits. She smiles against her hand at the memory of Scorpius, of his fingers running through her hair and his body flush against her own, feeling her pale cheeks flush with a pleasure that she hopes she never loses. The rustling of the other girls causes Rose to dress quickly and exit the dormitory, as unwilling to lose the silly smile on her lips as she is to explain to the others why it is there so early in the morning.
As she enters the Great Hall, surrounded by the rest of the school, milling around the room looking for breakfast and spilling the night's secrets to friends, Rose automatically looks for Scorpius. She smiles brightly as she meets his silver eyes, which had been following her from the moment she entered, and with only a moment's pause, pushes her way through the throng to his side. He stands up, looking slightly wary, as she stops beside him, and with a hard look in her pale blue eyes, Rose reaches up onto her toes and presses her mouth to his, cupping the base of his neck with her hand. They ignore the catcalls and jeers of the rest of the Hall, and despite the voice in the back of her head that sounds awfully like her father, Rose can't help but think that this was the only expectation she needed to live up to.
Author: open_atclose
Gift For: olgameisterfunk
Summary: Rose can't help her feelings for Scorpius, despite what her family expects.
Rating: R
Warnings: Heavy petting, sexual references
Word Count: (if applicable) 2,240
Lyrics/Quotes Used:"We don't want to sleep tonight / Still young like that i count the lines / Beside your mouth that smiles now / My arms reach up as you go down / With buried heads we both forget
All of the past and its regret / Wind picks up, the window shakes / We won't hear the morning break". It's more referred to than used specifically, though.
A/N:I hope you like this! I tried to incorporate as many of your favourite things as I could, like angsty pining and secrets looks and touches, so enjoy!
Nights are the hardest time to be alone. You toss and turn in your cold, empty bed, wondering whether he's thinking of you as much as you're thinking of him, wishing and hoping that he would throw caution to the winds and come storming through the door, take you in his arms and never let you go again. Rose Weasley, lying wide awake in her four poster bed, knows all about lonely nights. Listening as thunder crashes overhead and rain lashes against the glass windows of the dormitory, her blue eyes stare up at a mutinous black sky that seems empty due to the heavy clouds covering the stars. She imagines that she can hear the raindrops whispering reckless secrets into her eager ears as they beat their paths down the pane of glass, reminding her that life was meant to be lived, that youth was too precious to waste, and that love, when it got under your skin, was not easily removed. In the stillness of the night images of a tall boy, his blonde hair glinting in pale sunlight, begin to dance across her mind in a choreographed routine that she knows all too well.
Despite the warnings from numerous family members she'd received since she was eleven years old, from the very beginning Rose could not help but follow his movements with her eyes, or accidentally drop behind every class in the hope that he would talk to her. Unfortunately for Rose, 'expectation' was more than just a four-syllable word; expectations ruled her life. Not her own expectations, of course. It didn't matter what she expected of herself, what she expected for her future. No, apparently what was supposed to matter more was everybody else's expectations. The expectations of her mother and father, two of three of the most respected, almost revered, citizens of the wizarding world, for her to do her best (but only if her best was the best) at everything she attempted, to uphold the noble family name...It went on. The day she waved off her parents as she boarded the Hogwarts Express had represented so much to Rose - she wasn't just starting school, she was starting a new chapter of her life, one that she hoped would be narrated by her, and nobody else. Don't be mistaken: Rose was very determined in her own right to do her best in everything. It was hard to differentiate between what she wanted to do because she wanted to do it, and what she did because her parents wanted her to. Scorpius Malfoy, though, definitely fell into the former category.
He had snagged her interest the very first moment she'd laid eyes on him, on Platform 9 3/4. He was the boy her parents had warned her about, after all, so the mystique associated with anything that had been forbidden was enough. She'd heard all too often the stories about Draco Malfoy and his antics both before and during the war, and the half-joking comments of her father about not getting too friendly with the younger Malfoy still rung in her ears. The first five years of her magical schooling, therefore, Rose remembered as a mixture of an intense curiosity for that which had been forbidden to her, and an equally intense fear of doing the wrong thing, of letting down her parents and not living up to their expectations. She attempted to immerse herself in her school work, her Gryffindor friends; the expectation that she would succeed was enough to keep her mind firmly on the work in front of her and very far away from the one Slytherin she had been banned from.
By the time Rose turned thirteen and started realising that the confusion of doing one thing and feeling another was not particularly conducive to anything good, Rose could tell that Scorpius Malfoy and all he represented was something she had to explore, and not just on her own in her four-poster bed once the lights had gone out. She plucked up her courage and began to talk to him, rather than about him, and she quickly discovered that the way he said her name made the pit of her stomach squirm in a pleasant sort of way, and that the spaces between her fingers seemed to have been created with his in mind. Since then, her every moment seemed to be filled with him, and despite everything she tried, Rose could not get him out of her mind. She battled on as his friend, trying to ignore the pitch in her heartbeat every time he entered a room, appearing as cool and collected on the surface as he did.
Lying restless in bed, with the storm raging outside reflecting her insides, Rose thinks back to the day that everything changed, the first day of their sixth year, when she'd arrived back at Hogwarts with a woman's body and a woman's needs to match. Her first thoughts had been to find Scorpius and explain to him just how much she needed him, how the friendship that had blossomed since their first conversation about the unusually warm October weather in third year had since burst into a flame much too high to control. They'd entered the Great Hall apart, separated by their respective houses and all the expectations that came with them, and while she usually looked for him before anyone else, Rose felt his silver-grey eyes boring into her back before she saw them. She'd turned and gazed at him over the heads of their peers and a thrill had passed through her body that had nothing to do with the ghosts that were passing idly by. Burning in his steely gaze was a desire that reflected her own, and she thought to herself that she clearly wasn't the only one who'd been shoved unceremoniously into the enemy camp by the persistent warnings of adults who knew far too little about youthful lust and love and everything else in between.
From that moment on, they'd met secretly at night in a room that only appeared when they had great need of it and each other, once the sun had gone to bed and taken with it the curious gazes and wagging tongues of their peers. At first they explored each other's bodies in the way that only sixteen year olds know how, fingertips spreading fire across bare skin, lips caressing and probing and tasting. The first night that they crossed the point of no return Rose had cried out in pain and Scorpius had stopped, worry etched in every line of his face. "Just go slowly," she'd whispered, dropping kisses onto his chest, the base of his throat, every inch of skin she could reach, as the pain turned to pleasure and she realised that no matter how many years she lived, she would just never have enough. Whether it was the taste of the forbidden fruit that sent scorches through her very being or not, Rose didn't know, but if it were she hoped to never gain permission for the sin she was committing.
The hours spent in classes or at meals, surrounded by people who would all-too-gleefully expound their carefully guarded secret as the newest piece of gossip, were unbearable, in the way that only sixteen year olds can understand. Rose always seated herself on the opposite side of wherever Scorpius was, careful not to brush against him as she passed, or touch his hand as she handed back the latest piece of homework under the careful gaze of teachers. She watched him under carefully hooded eyes and always smiled to herself when she caught him looking back at her. Whenever her guard slipped, though, and admittedly it happened quite a lot, Rose would close her eyes at his touch, relishing in the all too familiar thrill of electricity that passed from his fingertips onto her skin, slipping into her very bloodstream and sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout her body, pumped along by her now erratic heart.
Still in her lonely bed in the dormitory, her heart pumps a little faster as she thinks back to their last meeting, almost a week ago. She'd tried to break it off, knowing as she did that secrets were always revealed in the end, and that the heartbreak that was bound to occur wasn't worth the risk. She'd dropped her face in her hands and he'd looked staunchly away for a whole minute, before taking her roughly into his arms and shaking her. "I don't care what they think," he'd muttered angrily, wrenching her face upwards so that she could not avoid his gaze, his very fingertips seeming to leave bruises on her skin. "I just want you." Their lips had met with a fervour that could have destroyed the castle, and she vowed to never let expectation rule her life again. It wasn't a vow that was easy to keep, especially to herself, but neither was the one she'd whispered to her reflection all those years ago: You will not fall in love with him. It will never work, and the pleasure now isn't worth the future hurt.
Of course it is, she thinks now, her eyes staring up at the canvas above her bed, and in a split second she makes her decision. Sitting up, Rose throws her legs over the side and stands up as quickly and quietly as she can to avoid waking the other girls. Without pausing to cover her bare feet, dressed only in a simple white nightgown, Rose makes her way down the stairs into the common room. It's empty, as she expects it to be at a quarter past one in the morning, and with only a moment's hesitation she speeds out of the common room and through the empty corridors towards the Room of Requirement, where Scorpius is there waiting for her. He pulls her to him without a word, crashing his lips down onto hers and holding her with such force that she is momentarily breathless.
They fall into the room together, pulling off as they go articles of clothing that are suddenly in the way. By the time they reach the large bed that materialises in the middle of the room there is a trail of discarded scraps of fabric leading from the door. They tumble onto the bed as one, laughing in low voices at their urgency in this moment. Scorpius runs his long-fingered hands through the dark red, tangled mess of Rose's hair to cup her head and she shivers. Responding in kind, Rose none-too-gently drags her fingernails down his back and pulls him closer to her, capturing his lips between hers once more. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, relishing in the moan that it elicits from him, and can't help but tug gently at the flesh with her teeth. She moans herself as Scorpius' fingers trail mercilessly slowly from the base of her neck, across her shoulder blades, over her breasts and down her flat stomach, pausing at the apex of her thighs. The wet heat pulsing from her is enough for Scorpius and he wastes no more time, slipping into her to the sound of their mingled gasps and sighs. Rose at once feels complete, as if a piece of her had been missing, and she feels that all too-familiar feeling of intense gratification mixed curiously with an unquenchable need for more.
Opening her eyes, Rose lies still for a moment, once more staring up at the canvas above her four-poster bed, the curtains pulled closed to shield her from the rest of the room. Outside, the storm from the previous night has been replaced with the chirping of many birds fluttering in and out of the trees, and Rose rises to her knees to look down upon the grounds. She leans her head against the cool glass and brushes her fingertips across her lips, which feel bruised and swollen, two flaming red beacons declaring to everyone her evening's exploits. She smiles against her hand at the memory of Scorpius, of his fingers running through her hair and his body flush against her own, feeling her pale cheeks flush with a pleasure that she hopes she never loses. The rustling of the other girls causes Rose to dress quickly and exit the dormitory, as unwilling to lose the silly smile on her lips as she is to explain to the others why it is there so early in the morning.
As she enters the Great Hall, surrounded by the rest of the school, milling around the room looking for breakfast and spilling the night's secrets to friends, Rose automatically looks for Scorpius. She smiles brightly as she meets his silver eyes, which had been following her from the moment she entered, and with only a moment's pause, pushes her way through the throng to his side. He stands up, looking slightly wary, as she stops beside him, and with a hard look in her pale blue eyes, Rose reaches up onto her toes and presses her mouth to his, cupping the base of his neck with her hand. They ignore the catcalls and jeers of the rest of the Hall, and despite the voice in the back of her head that sounds awfully like her father, Rose can't help but think that this was the only expectation she needed to live up to.