Elaborate Lives (PG-13)
Title: Elaborate Lives
Author: flimsydragonfly
Prompt: "Sometimes in my darkest thoughts, I'll wish I never learned what it is to be in love and have that love returned." -Written in the Stars, Aida
Summary: This is a story of love found and lost, and rediscovered.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,539
A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful, wonderful betas: Angie and Hazel. I couldn’t have done it without you. *Hug*
How far, how far we both have come
Yet we’re still miles away from done
.
It could have been a scene plucked from a fairytale.
Strands of glittering lights strung from trees, fountains whispered midnight sonatas, and the starlit sky was a canopy.
A tall, impeccably dressed young man with eyes that put spun silver to shame noticed a solitary figure standing beyond the expanse of the crowd. The lady caught his gaze, held it for a moment, and trapped his heart for all eternity.
Only, this was in no way a fairytale. The lady in question indeed caught his gaze, but hurriedly looked away.
And she did not ensnare his heart, nor did he entrap hers; they had already lost them to each other a long time ago.
.
“Hello, Rose.”
Rose Weasley, the offspring of two-thirds of the Golden Trio, at twenty-one, was extremely proud to say that she was currently in her last year of Healer Training, but also, a regular contributor at The Daily Prophet. But what she wasn’t proud of was her innate ability to trip over her words when confronted by the only boy who ever broke her heart, specifically, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.
“Hi Scor- Er, I mean,” Rose said, “Good evening, Malfoy.”
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “So we’re back to surnames, now?”
“Oh, Scorpius, you know I always feel like Ministry functions force me to become agonizingly formal.” She gestured to the party before her. “I feel as if they watch my every move.” Smiling, she changed the subject to him: “Anyway, when did you get back?”
“In England, you mean?”
“Of course, in bloody England,” Rose answered exasperatedly. “Where else?”
“I forgot you had such a sharp tongue. I came back last Friday, and as punishment for surprising her, Mum coerced me to accompany her to this Ministry get-together,” Scorpius said, his eyes roving over the crowd.
Rose shifted uncomfortably. Last Friday had been her twenty-first birthday. Or had he forgotten? Surely friends remember friends’ birthdays. Because that was all they were now; friends.
“How about you? Are you still training to become a Healer? We’ve had so little correspondence, you know,” he added, thinking: Too little for my liking.
“Well, I’m in my last year and I’ll be graduating in the summer,” she replied merrily.
“Good for you.”
There was a pause, as both thought of what to say next.
“You look well,” Rose commented, taking in his profile. The years have been kind to him, she mentally remarked. Her eyes involuntarily strayed to his lips. Once upon a time those lips had kissed hers underneath stairwells, in darkened classrooms, in the library after hours. It was disheartening to realize how badly she wanted to kiss him again.
“You do, too,” he complimented back. And it was no lie: Rose Weasley had grown to be more beautiful than she had been at eleven, fifteen, and even at seventeen. Her hair now took on an unearthly glow in the moonlight, and her features were more profound; more intensely captivating.
“So, potions, huh?” Rose inquired, filling in the silence.
“Beg pardon?”
“You. Potion-eering. Travelling around the world.”
“My calling,” Scorpius nodded. “In fact, I’m about to do another apprenticeship in America.”
Rose felt her heart skip a beat. He was going away-again. She had thought this was their chance to reunite; to rekindle what love they had lost. She had tried to move on, but no one could ever quite replace him in her heart. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh. I wish you all the best, then,” Rose said, plastering what she hoped was a cheery smile on her face.
“Thank you,” Scorpius replied graciously, inclining his head. “I hope you become a damn good Healer. Merlin knows I might accidentally poison myself someday.”
With that, he earned a laugh from Rose, and lost himself in the sounds of her amusement- her laugh had been one of the things he had loved most about her.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’d know a poisonous herb ten feet away.”
“I do hope I will,” Scorpius grinned.
Rose looked around for her parents, and turned back to fix her eyes upon the young man in front of her. “I really should get going. It was nice to catch up with you, Scorpius.”
“It was a pleasure.”
Rose hesitated, but Scorpius had already closed the gap between them, and wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.
The seconds passed away quickly, and almost immediately, they broke apart.
Rose felt a surge of courage and reached out for his right hand. “Take care,” she said, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
And then she was gone, leaving a wistful Scorpius in her wake.
“Belated Happy Birthday, Rosie.”
They would not complete their story tonight. It was still too soon, too early, the time too wrong to be made right. The pages would have to be filled another time. After all, the things you lose always find a way to return to you, only sometimes it doesn’t happen in the way you expect them to.
The love that burns the first
Dies down the last
.
It had been a shock to the Weasley clan when Rose Weasley, aged eleven, wrote home after the Start of Term feast to announce that she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Ron Weasley had sighed very loudly and is said to have whispered, “At least not Slytherin”, which earned him a smack on his arm by none other than Hermione Granger-Weasley.
After their initial shock, the Weasleys had begun to realize that Rose was indeed a Hufflepuff. She possessed unwavering loyalty, endless patience, a sunny disposition, a thirst for fairness, and a tolerance for toil.
But what surprised them the most was that Rose Weasley had found a friend in a Slytherin boy: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.
How did it happen? For weeks it seemed that the Weasleys had nothing else to talk about, until Rose wrote a letter chronicling the event.
It happened thus.
Rose was walking down the second-floor corridor, trying to find her way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, when she had the brilliant idea to peruse the Marauder’s Map, nicked -er… borrowed- from James Sirius Potter when he wasn’t looking earlier at breakfast.
Unfortunately, when Rose pulled the Marauder’s Map out of her bag, it brought along her purse of coins-and sent it tumbling to the ground.
“Blast it,” Rose swore, hastily running after her Sickles and Knuts, one of which rolled down the length of the corridor.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, until she found herself facing a pair of shiny black leather shoes.
“Looking for this?” a voice asked, prompting Rose to look at its owner.
A blond boy around Rose’s age smiled kindly, handing over a bronze Knut.
“Thank you, er--?”
“Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy,” the boy answered her.
“Rose. Rose Weasley,” she offered, shaking his hand. “So, do you know where the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom is?”
.
They did not fall in love immediately that winter, or in the spring, or even the next winter. Their love was not like a lightning bolt from the heavens; it was a seedling nourished with time and watered with friendship.
But in November of their fourth year, their feelings began to change. Blood raced, faces blushed, and heartbeats fluttered. They started with stolen glances, prolonged hugs and intertwined fingers, until they could not keep their emotions bottled any longer.
December came, and found them both studying in the library, before going home for the holidays.
“You know, this paragraph here explicitly states that three drops of salamander blood does the trick, but the instructions on the board earlier said four, what exactly is-“
Scorpius’ lips found hers. There were no fireworks, no singing chorus. It was brief and chaste. It was bliss and innocence and discovery. It was a piece of heaven; right there in a nook in the library.
“What was that for?” Rose asked, moments later, her quill and books forgotten.
Scorpius’ only answer was to kiss her again.
.
The next few months were a whirlwind. They were young and brash and in love. They met in secret alcoves and behind musty bookshelves. They kissed under the stars and underneath staircases.
“Rose… will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” Scorpius asked in between kisses. They were on the third floor corridor, just before dinner.
The question caught Rose unprepared. She loved Scorpius to distraction, and yet she knew her family would be heartbroken if they learned she was dating somebody at the tender age of fourteen. Her mother had told her to finish Hogwarts first, before embarking on any romantic inclinations of the sort. To become his girlfriend was to confirm their commitment, to declare that she was defying her parents’ orders.
And to top it all off, Scorpius was a Malfoy, and her father had never really warmed up to the idea of his daughter being friends with Draco Malfoy’s spawn.
She stilled her hands and met Scorpius in the eye. Family versus this. Expectations versus this.
“I-I can’t.”
Scorpius stopped and stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why not?”
Rose summoned all her strength, wisdom and willpower.
“Because, Scor, we’re too young. And I told you; I can’t have a boyfriend yet. Not to mention, our families will kill us if they find out.”
Scorpius snorted, “Because you’re a Weasley and I’m a Malfoy? I think our families are too mature to encourage that kind of prejudice.”
Something in those words brought Rose to her senses. She paused to close her eyes and whispered, “Then I think we both need to grow up. I can’t be your girlfriend yet, Scorpius.”
Scorpius gave a subtle nod and pecked her on the forehead.
.
But sometimes, love is not enough. In the weeks that passed, Rose could feel an escalating coldness radiating from Scorpius. He laughed less, talked less and just felt less.
Soon they went on for days without talking; without seeing each other outside class.
Months passed; until one day, in fifth year, Rose heard two girls gossiping in the bathroom.
“Did you see him? Kiss Alison, I mean?”
“I thought he was with the Weasley girl, Rose?’
“Seems like they’re over, by the looks of it. I haven’t seen them together for months!”
That became too much for her to bear. Rose ran out of the bathroom stall and raced to the Quidditch Pitch, where she was assured complete and utter solitude.
Or not.
High above in the stands, she could see Scorpius with a golden-haired girl. Cuddling, holding hands, and speaking.
There was no more Scorpius and Rose. It was Scorpius and Alison now.
.
She cried for days, and nights. She felt betrayed and heartbroken. Rose ignored Scorpius, and vice versa. She hung out with her innumerable cousins, joined the Quidditch Team and became a Prefect.
By sixth year, Scorpius and Rose were awkward at first, civil at best. And by seventh year, Scorpius had dumped Alison and went out with another girl, and then another. Rose became Head Girl, he became Head Boy.
They eventually became polite friends, as they were friends before becoming lovers. But Rose could not help but feel a dull ache in her heart as she watched him and talked to him about rounds schedules, as if they had no past shared.
Graduation came, and they took their separate ways. Rose pursued Healer Training; Scorpius left England to parts unknown; to study Potions, she presumed.
Some stories were meant to be severed right in the middle, in order to prove if they are worth finishing.
All roads lead to home
.
New York City.
Rose Weasley was twenty-five, and in New York City. St. Mungo’s had sent her to its sister hospital, the American Center for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and appointed her as a Resident Healer.
It was a beautiful city, she mused, although a little intimidating. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that a magical community existed within the concrete jungle of Manhattan.
Getting her coat from a nearby chair, she left her flat and decided to take a walk.
Central Park, Times Square, Park Avenue… Rose spent the afternoon sightseeing, and just taking in her fill of the American culture, which was so different from her British upbringing.
.
Scorpius Malfoy made up his mind to forego his usual route from the quaint and unassuming Potions Institute a few blocks away. He was hungry: craving for a hotdog. Four years of living in America had gotten him used to that particular food.
Through the years, he had learned to look like a Muggle when he walked in the city outside work: jeans, button-down shirts-and Muggle money (the right currency this time, as a couple of years ago he had attempted to pay with what he thought were American dollars, only to learn that they were Canadian).
As the smell of the hotdogs wafted from the cart, Scorpius fumbled in his pocket and retrieved a paper bill, sending some dimes rolling down in the process.
“Damn.”
He knelt and gathered the coins, which had scattered on the pavement. He looked up and saw a feminine hand holding one in her palm.
“Looking for this?” The woman asked; a smile evident in her voice.
“Rose.”
“Scorpius.”
.
They settled into a comfortable relationship. They became friends who met for lunch once a month, which progressed to friends who met for dinner every week. They took walks in the park, visited magical shops and non, travelled to the beach, went home to Britain for Christmas, and returned to America after New Year.
They baked and cooked and made snow angels, they bought each other coffee, or some times, made tea. They celebrated each other’s birthday; teased each other and laughed together.
What had once become two very different parts had slowly molded to become one again.
“You know, I just had an epiphany,” Scorpius announced, absently running his fingers through Rose’s red hair.
“What?” asked Rose, who was reading a book, and lying down on his lap.
“If we had stayed together in fourth year, we would’ve fallen apart- one way or another. And we would never be here, where we are now,” he remarked thoughtfully, gazing down at her. “I mean, I loved you back then, but I think that lust had a larger part than love. I have to admit, I was hurt when you refused to be my girlfriend. And I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you because of that.”
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she answered, her eyes beginning to grow misty. “I know I’m not completely without fault, either.”
He smiled down at her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Sometimes I wonder if what happened between us was predestined. How else would you explain this?” Scorpius referred to their now-entwined hands.
Rose set down her book, and lovingly put both her arms around Scorpius’ face. She planted her mouth a breath away from his.
“We grew up.”
Because most often, every story is a love story- written in the stars.
Please take a quick minute to rate this entry. The top three entries will receive an award. Please do not vote for your own submission. This poll will be closed on November 14th.
Poll Elaborate Lives
Author: flimsydragonfly
Prompt: "Sometimes in my darkest thoughts, I'll wish I never learned what it is to be in love and have that love returned." -Written in the Stars, Aida
Summary: This is a story of love found and lost, and rediscovered.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,539
A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful, wonderful betas: Angie and Hazel. I couldn’t have done it without you. *Hug*
How far, how far we both have come
Yet we’re still miles away from done
.
It could have been a scene plucked from a fairytale.
Strands of glittering lights strung from trees, fountains whispered midnight sonatas, and the starlit sky was a canopy.
A tall, impeccably dressed young man with eyes that put spun silver to shame noticed a solitary figure standing beyond the expanse of the crowd. The lady caught his gaze, held it for a moment, and trapped his heart for all eternity.
Only, this was in no way a fairytale. The lady in question indeed caught his gaze, but hurriedly looked away.
And she did not ensnare his heart, nor did he entrap hers; they had already lost them to each other a long time ago.
.
“Hello, Rose.”
Rose Weasley, the offspring of two-thirds of the Golden Trio, at twenty-one, was extremely proud to say that she was currently in her last year of Healer Training, but also, a regular contributor at The Daily Prophet. But what she wasn’t proud of was her innate ability to trip over her words when confronted by the only boy who ever broke her heart, specifically, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.
“Hi Scor- Er, I mean,” Rose said, “Good evening, Malfoy.”
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “So we’re back to surnames, now?”
“Oh, Scorpius, you know I always feel like Ministry functions force me to become agonizingly formal.” She gestured to the party before her. “I feel as if they watch my every move.” Smiling, she changed the subject to him: “Anyway, when did you get back?”
“In England, you mean?”
“Of course, in bloody England,” Rose answered exasperatedly. “Where else?”
“I forgot you had such a sharp tongue. I came back last Friday, and as punishment for surprising her, Mum coerced me to accompany her to this Ministry get-together,” Scorpius said, his eyes roving over the crowd.
Rose shifted uncomfortably. Last Friday had been her twenty-first birthday. Or had he forgotten? Surely friends remember friends’ birthdays. Because that was all they were now; friends.
“How about you? Are you still training to become a Healer? We’ve had so little correspondence, you know,” he added, thinking: Too little for my liking.
“Well, I’m in my last year and I’ll be graduating in the summer,” she replied merrily.
“Good for you.”
There was a pause, as both thought of what to say next.
“You look well,” Rose commented, taking in his profile. The years have been kind to him, she mentally remarked. Her eyes involuntarily strayed to his lips. Once upon a time those lips had kissed hers underneath stairwells, in darkened classrooms, in the library after hours. It was disheartening to realize how badly she wanted to kiss him again.
“You do, too,” he complimented back. And it was no lie: Rose Weasley had grown to be more beautiful than she had been at eleven, fifteen, and even at seventeen. Her hair now took on an unearthly glow in the moonlight, and her features were more profound; more intensely captivating.
“So, potions, huh?” Rose inquired, filling in the silence.
“Beg pardon?”
“You. Potion-eering. Travelling around the world.”
“My calling,” Scorpius nodded. “In fact, I’m about to do another apprenticeship in America.”
Rose felt her heart skip a beat. He was going away-again. She had thought this was their chance to reunite; to rekindle what love they had lost. She had tried to move on, but no one could ever quite replace him in her heart. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh. I wish you all the best, then,” Rose said, plastering what she hoped was a cheery smile on her face.
“Thank you,” Scorpius replied graciously, inclining his head. “I hope you become a damn good Healer. Merlin knows I might accidentally poison myself someday.”
With that, he earned a laugh from Rose, and lost himself in the sounds of her amusement- her laugh had been one of the things he had loved most about her.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’d know a poisonous herb ten feet away.”
“I do hope I will,” Scorpius grinned.
Rose looked around for her parents, and turned back to fix her eyes upon the young man in front of her. “I really should get going. It was nice to catch up with you, Scorpius.”
“It was a pleasure.”
Rose hesitated, but Scorpius had already closed the gap between them, and wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.
The seconds passed away quickly, and almost immediately, they broke apart.
Rose felt a surge of courage and reached out for his right hand. “Take care,” she said, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
And then she was gone, leaving a wistful Scorpius in her wake.
“Belated Happy Birthday, Rosie.”
They would not complete their story tonight. It was still too soon, too early, the time too wrong to be made right. The pages would have to be filled another time. After all, the things you lose always find a way to return to you, only sometimes it doesn’t happen in the way you expect them to.
The love that burns the first
Dies down the last
.
It had been a shock to the Weasley clan when Rose Weasley, aged eleven, wrote home after the Start of Term feast to announce that she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Ron Weasley had sighed very loudly and is said to have whispered, “At least not Slytherin”, which earned him a smack on his arm by none other than Hermione Granger-Weasley.
After their initial shock, the Weasleys had begun to realize that Rose was indeed a Hufflepuff. She possessed unwavering loyalty, endless patience, a sunny disposition, a thirst for fairness, and a tolerance for toil.
But what surprised them the most was that Rose Weasley had found a friend in a Slytherin boy: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.
How did it happen? For weeks it seemed that the Weasleys had nothing else to talk about, until Rose wrote a letter chronicling the event.
It happened thus.
Rose was walking down the second-floor corridor, trying to find her way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, when she had the brilliant idea to peruse the Marauder’s Map, nicked -er… borrowed- from James Sirius Potter when he wasn’t looking earlier at breakfast.
Unfortunately, when Rose pulled the Marauder’s Map out of her bag, it brought along her purse of coins-and sent it tumbling to the ground.
“Blast it,” Rose swore, hastily running after her Sickles and Knuts, one of which rolled down the length of the corridor.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, until she found herself facing a pair of shiny black leather shoes.
“Looking for this?” a voice asked, prompting Rose to look at its owner.
A blond boy around Rose’s age smiled kindly, handing over a bronze Knut.
“Thank you, er--?”
“Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy,” the boy answered her.
“Rose. Rose Weasley,” she offered, shaking his hand. “So, do you know where the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom is?”
.
They did not fall in love immediately that winter, or in the spring, or even the next winter. Their love was not like a lightning bolt from the heavens; it was a seedling nourished with time and watered with friendship.
But in November of their fourth year, their feelings began to change. Blood raced, faces blushed, and heartbeats fluttered. They started with stolen glances, prolonged hugs and intertwined fingers, until they could not keep their emotions bottled any longer.
December came, and found them both studying in the library, before going home for the holidays.
“You know, this paragraph here explicitly states that three drops of salamander blood does the trick, but the instructions on the board earlier said four, what exactly is-“
Scorpius’ lips found hers. There were no fireworks, no singing chorus. It was brief and chaste. It was bliss and innocence and discovery. It was a piece of heaven; right there in a nook in the library.
“What was that for?” Rose asked, moments later, her quill and books forgotten.
Scorpius’ only answer was to kiss her again.
.
The next few months were a whirlwind. They were young and brash and in love. They met in secret alcoves and behind musty bookshelves. They kissed under the stars and underneath staircases.
“Rose… will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” Scorpius asked in between kisses. They were on the third floor corridor, just before dinner.
The question caught Rose unprepared. She loved Scorpius to distraction, and yet she knew her family would be heartbroken if they learned she was dating somebody at the tender age of fourteen. Her mother had told her to finish Hogwarts first, before embarking on any romantic inclinations of the sort. To become his girlfriend was to confirm their commitment, to declare that she was defying her parents’ orders.
And to top it all off, Scorpius was a Malfoy, and her father had never really warmed up to the idea of his daughter being friends with Draco Malfoy’s spawn.
She stilled her hands and met Scorpius in the eye. Family versus this. Expectations versus this.
“I-I can’t.”
Scorpius stopped and stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why not?”
Rose summoned all her strength, wisdom and willpower.
“Because, Scor, we’re too young. And I told you; I can’t have a boyfriend yet. Not to mention, our families will kill us if they find out.”
Scorpius snorted, “Because you’re a Weasley and I’m a Malfoy? I think our families are too mature to encourage that kind of prejudice.”
Something in those words brought Rose to her senses. She paused to close her eyes and whispered, “Then I think we both need to grow up. I can’t be your girlfriend yet, Scorpius.”
Scorpius gave a subtle nod and pecked her on the forehead.
.
But sometimes, love is not enough. In the weeks that passed, Rose could feel an escalating coldness radiating from Scorpius. He laughed less, talked less and just felt less.
Soon they went on for days without talking; without seeing each other outside class.
Months passed; until one day, in fifth year, Rose heard two girls gossiping in the bathroom.
“Did you see him? Kiss Alison, I mean?”
“I thought he was with the Weasley girl, Rose?’
“Seems like they’re over, by the looks of it. I haven’t seen them together for months!”
That became too much for her to bear. Rose ran out of the bathroom stall and raced to the Quidditch Pitch, where she was assured complete and utter solitude.
Or not.
High above in the stands, she could see Scorpius with a golden-haired girl. Cuddling, holding hands, and speaking.
There was no more Scorpius and Rose. It was Scorpius and Alison now.
.
She cried for days, and nights. She felt betrayed and heartbroken. Rose ignored Scorpius, and vice versa. She hung out with her innumerable cousins, joined the Quidditch Team and became a Prefect.
By sixth year, Scorpius and Rose were awkward at first, civil at best. And by seventh year, Scorpius had dumped Alison and went out with another girl, and then another. Rose became Head Girl, he became Head Boy.
They eventually became polite friends, as they were friends before becoming lovers. But Rose could not help but feel a dull ache in her heart as she watched him and talked to him about rounds schedules, as if they had no past shared.
Graduation came, and they took their separate ways. Rose pursued Healer Training; Scorpius left England to parts unknown; to study Potions, she presumed.
Some stories were meant to be severed right in the middle, in order to prove if they are worth finishing.
All roads lead to home
.
New York City.
Rose Weasley was twenty-five, and in New York City. St. Mungo’s had sent her to its sister hospital, the American Center for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and appointed her as a Resident Healer.
It was a beautiful city, she mused, although a little intimidating. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that a magical community existed within the concrete jungle of Manhattan.
Getting her coat from a nearby chair, she left her flat and decided to take a walk.
Central Park, Times Square, Park Avenue… Rose spent the afternoon sightseeing, and just taking in her fill of the American culture, which was so different from her British upbringing.
.
Scorpius Malfoy made up his mind to forego his usual route from the quaint and unassuming Potions Institute a few blocks away. He was hungry: craving for a hotdog. Four years of living in America had gotten him used to that particular food.
Through the years, he had learned to look like a Muggle when he walked in the city outside work: jeans, button-down shirts-and Muggle money (the right currency this time, as a couple of years ago he had attempted to pay with what he thought were American dollars, only to learn that they were Canadian).
As the smell of the hotdogs wafted from the cart, Scorpius fumbled in his pocket and retrieved a paper bill, sending some dimes rolling down in the process.
“Damn.”
He knelt and gathered the coins, which had scattered on the pavement. He looked up and saw a feminine hand holding one in her palm.
“Looking for this?” The woman asked; a smile evident in her voice.
“Rose.”
“Scorpius.”
.
They settled into a comfortable relationship. They became friends who met for lunch once a month, which progressed to friends who met for dinner every week. They took walks in the park, visited magical shops and non, travelled to the beach, went home to Britain for Christmas, and returned to America after New Year.
They baked and cooked and made snow angels, they bought each other coffee, or some times, made tea. They celebrated each other’s birthday; teased each other and laughed together.
What had once become two very different parts had slowly molded to become one again.
“You know, I just had an epiphany,” Scorpius announced, absently running his fingers through Rose’s red hair.
“What?” asked Rose, who was reading a book, and lying down on his lap.
“If we had stayed together in fourth year, we would’ve fallen apart- one way or another. And we would never be here, where we are now,” he remarked thoughtfully, gazing down at her. “I mean, I loved you back then, but I think that lust had a larger part than love. I have to admit, I was hurt when you refused to be my girlfriend. And I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you because of that.”
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she answered, her eyes beginning to grow misty. “I know I’m not completely without fault, either.”
He smiled down at her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Sometimes I wonder if what happened between us was predestined. How else would you explain this?” Scorpius referred to their now-entwined hands.
Rose set down her book, and lovingly put both her arms around Scorpius’ face. She planted her mouth a breath away from his.
“We grew up.”
Because most often, every story is a love story- written in the stars.
Please take a quick minute to rate this entry. The top three entries will receive an award. Please do not vote for your own submission. This poll will be closed on November 14th.
Poll Elaborate Lives