Gelsey (gelsey) wrote,

Fic: Bouquet of Roses, IV. Orange (Rose/Scorpius, PG-13)

Title: Bouquet of Roses
Rating: PG-13
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Summary: Every rose in the bouquet symbolizes an important memory in their relationship. Rose’s bouquet is colorful and precious.

IV. Orange

“Oh! Might I kiss those eyes of fire,
A million scarce would quench desire;
Still would I steep my lips in bliss,
And dwell an age on every kiss.” –Lord Byron

“Aw, come on, Rose! You’re working yourself to death. You need a vacation.” Scorpius’ wheedling grated not-quite unpleasantly on her nerves as he sat perched on the edge of her desk.

“You’re sitting on my revised recipe for the Invigoration Draught,” Rose told him primly, ignoring the oft repeated argument.

“Come on, I swear I can get Uncle Severus to approve the time away. We can go find rare potions ingredients or something while we’re gone.” This did cause her to hesitate for a brief moment—Severus Snape, miracle survivor and hero of the last Voldemort War, was the Potions master she was apprenticing under, and that might be a good argument to be allowed to take time off. The apprenticeship was grueling, and she was tired… “We’ll go somewhere warm, maybe with a beach,” Scorpius persuaded, intent on exploiting her moment of weakness.

“Scorpius…” She meant it to come out stern, but instead it sounded wistful.

“The sun, the sand, the water… girls in bikinis…” He smirked when she smacked his knee. “Guys in skimpy speedos,” he altered.

“If I say yes, will you shut up and let me work?” she said and poked him with the end of her quill. Sweet Merlin, was she actually considering this? Could she actually withstand a week on a beach with Scorpius as a companion and not give in to the urge to jump his bones?

Of course she could, she told herself. They’d been out of school for two years, now, and she’d never once given into the urge that had grown ever since the Yule Ball. They were just friends. Very good friends. Friends who had dinner at least once a week and had flats in the same building. Friends who dated other people (frequently, in Scorpius’ case) and never so much as kissed.

The blond looked far too smug in his success. “Yes. I’ll just go bug—ah, convince—Uncle Sev that a week is a great amount of time to let you off for.” He hopped off her desk and leaned down to hug her spontaneously. “Now don’t work yourself to death while I’m gone…” he told her and started whistling jauntily as he left.

“Prat,” she called after him.

“You love me anyway,” he replied back, just an echo in the hall.

At least, she thought, there was no way on earth he could see her head thump down into her arms. “Can’t seem to help myself,” she agreed in a whisper.


Rose had to admit that the Bahamas were fabulously wonderful. The sun beat down here hotly, seeming to melt the tension out of her very bones. It didn’t hurt, she would concede, that the suite Scorpius had reserved for them at the Wizarding Reef Atlantis was large and luxurious and well beyond what she would have gotten if she’d gone by herself. There were two beds and baths, so she didn’t bother with suspecting any illicit motives.

Yeah, like Scorpius would have illicit motives over you, a little voice in her head said. She managed to ignore it—it was too beautiful here to be thinking such negative things.

“I’ll race you to the beach!” she declared to Scorpius as they exited the hotel after putting their things down and changing into their swim wear—a modest one piece for her and surprisingly modest trunks for him. Unceremoniously she took off, laughing at his look of surprise. It was fierce competition and continued all the way into the water after their towels were dumped just above the waterline.

He finally caught her—though with his longer legs, it was a wonder he hadn’t done so yet—as they splashed into the surf, arms going around her waist and spinning her around until she squealed and they fell with a salty splash.

They came up spluttering. Scorpius tossed his head, throwing the hair plastered to his forehead back, and his hands helped Rose sort out the curls that had escaped her braid on the way down. For a long moment their gaze held, grey to blue, and Rose’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. She could swear, in that second, that he was going to kiss her. Just lean down and kiss her like she’d imagined for the last few years.

The next wave rolled over them and submerged them, breaking eye contact and making them both splutter once again. The moment was broken like it had never been.


Rose spent a lot of time stretched out on her towel on the beach during their vacation, skin carefully protected from burning by the potion Severus had grudgingly given her after saying she better be ready to work when she came back. Scorpius occasionally complained at her and usually managed to tempt her back into the water for a little while, where they would splash and play like children.

But other times he left her alone to relax with her book or just people watching, and it was during this time that she was nearly hit by a Fanged Frisbee. Its owner came over to fetch it—a rather toned up wizard with a golden tan and dark hair. Not precisely her type, but it was flattering when he started flirting with her.

It had been a while, given how hard she’d been working, since she’d had the time to properly flirt with an attractive man. So she was miffed when Scorpius plopped down onto the towel next to her—her towel, not his, which was only a short distance away—and interrupted with a disingenuous, “Hey Rosie, you ready to go back to the hotel room yet?” It effectively scared away the other man.

“What’s your problem, Score? I thought we were here to relax,” Rose complained and elbowed him hard enough to make him roll back into the sand. “I’m not your girlfriend, and I don’t interrupt you when you’re flirting with some bimbo witch.” She stood and stalked back toward the hotel, not seeing the frustrated and hurt expression on his face.


That night, Rose crawled into bed feeling tired but in that relaxed way that a day at the beach always brought. She barely noticed the flower in time to keep from crushing it with her head. Its heady scent saved it, and she turned on the light with a flick of her wand.

The orange color burned brightly. She knew even without a note what it meant—orange roses meant desire, pure and simple.

You’re the only Rose I desire.

Her fingers wrapped around the stem tentatively, hope fluttering in her chest. Could he really? Did he…?

And if she were misinterpreting, could she face it?

Rose decided, then and there, that she couldn’t not find out. She would always regret it.

She padded across the shared living area quietly and pushed open Scorpius’ door, which was already ajar.

Scorpius was perched on his bed, elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped nervously. He looked up as her shadow fell across the floor. Rose couldn’t believe how vulnerable he looked, his face open and naked. She realized for the first time that he’d felt this way for a long time—the entire past couple of years seemed to reflect back in the candlelight, showing her how he’d been trying, in his own way, to show her he wanted her. That he cared.

“Rosie…” His voice was soft, and he reached one hand out toward her. Rose wove her fingers with his and stepped closer, kissing him for the first time.

A/N: Written for weasley_fest for jade_chan. Thanks to Cilla and Ree for teh betas :D

Tags: bouquet of roses, writing

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