Eyes closed, Scorpius dragged his finger lightly down the side of her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone and then moving to her lips. “Shh,” he whispered, burying his free hand in her thick, unruly hair. Tilting her head back, his lips brushed hers gently, then moved down to graze the slim column of her throat. The girl moaned in response, her hands sliding up under his shirt and over the smooth planes of his chest.

            Her hands stroked his skin, coaxing forth a maelstrom of heat and electricity that seeped down into his veins. Hissing in pleasure, he allowed her to drag his shirt up and over head. “Scorpius,” she breathed, her fingernails trailing up his back. “Scor.”

           He hummed in response, kissing her again, harder, deeper. They were wrapped around each other so tightly that Scorpius couldn’t tell where he left off and she began. Not that he minded.

           Suddenly, he had to look at her, had to see her with more than his lips or fingers. As he opened his eyes, Scorpius’s heart began hammering wildly. A pair of a bright blue eyes gazed wantonly up at him from the pillow, framed by a tousled wave of scarlet tresses.

           “Rose?”

           Flailing in shock, Scorpius woke up, nearly falling out of his four-poster bed. Panting heavily, his whole body trembled as he pulled his knees to his chest. What the hell was that? He didn’t have dreams like that! Well, actually, he did, but not about Rose Weasley! What the bloody hell? Her cousin slept in the bed next to his, for Merlin’s sake! She was his study partner, the girl he patrolled the fifth floor with when he had prefect duty. They were barely even friends.

           So what the hell was that?

           Flopping back down, Scorpius turned toward the wall and tried to ignore the thin sheen of cold sweat that coated his body. This was not happening, not to him.

           Relax, he tried telling himself. It was just a dream. It could have been anyone. You’ll see her tomorrow and this feeling will go away. After all, it’s not like she looks like that in real life. It was just a dream . . .  

           “What’s happened to you?” asked Rose, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting very odd tonight.”

           “Just don’t feel well,” muttered Scorpius, looking anywhere but her face. Three weeks later and the feeling had not, in fact, gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to touch her. Earlier, he had barely stopped himself from running a hand through her silky hair. One more second and his fingers would have been tangled in her curls. And how would he have explained that?

           “Okay,” she said slowly, eyes shrewd and searching. After a long moment, she asked, “So, what did you put for the third question?”

           “Not much,” he admitted, relieved she was dropping it. “Just sort of blathered on about goblin rights for a few inches.”

           Rose nodded, frowning. Her thin eyebrows knitted together, forming an endearing little hollow in the middle of her forehead. Without meaning to, Scorpius smiled. The urge to lean forward and press his lips to her brow overcame him. Hastily, he looked down at his parchment and tried to assume a casual countenance.

           “The professor’s like my mum, remember, so make sure you add something about house elf liberation. She’ll eat it up.”

           Scorpius pretended to gasp. “You’re not suggesting that I purposefully manipulate a professor, are you?”

           “Yes, yes I am,” replied Rose bluntly. “I absolutely refuse to be held back from Hogsmeade next weekend because of this bloody essay.”

           He clucked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head “What would your parents say if they knew?”

           Rose stuck out her own tongue, then bent over her roll of parchment, chewing her lip slightly as her quill scratched across the sheet. Scorpius didn’t realize he was staring again until she looked up and said, “What is it? Do I have ink on my face? What?”

           “Nothing. It’s . . . it’s nothing.” He forced his attention back to his own essay, wondering if he needed see Madam Pomfrey. This was ridiculous.

           “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. Under her breath, he heard her mutter, “Slytherins.”

           “Because Gryffindors are so much better,” he replied sarcastically.

           Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “Watch it, Malfoy.”

           “Or what?”

           Her lips curved into a dangerously sweet smile. “Or I’ll tell Elaine Macmillan that you secretly fancy her, and that you’d be more than happy to take her to Madam Puddifoot’s next weekend.”

           Scorpius blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

           “I think we both know I would.”

           “. . . I guess what they say about gingers really is true.”

           Her eyes flashed dangerously. “And what’s that?”

           Despite knowing that he was already treading on thin ice, Scorpius couldn’t help but say, “You really don’t have souls.”

           “Have fun with Elaine next weekend, Malfoy,” she said, standing up abruptly and sweeping her books into her bag.

           “Oh, come on Weasley,” he said, forcing himself to laugh. “It’s just a joke.”

           “Sure. Right.” Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the library, muttering darkly to herself.

           Scorpius sighed. “Gryffindors are dramatic. Girls are dramatic. Gryffindor girls . . . Merlin help me.” He gathered his things and hurried after her. But by the time he made it to the corridor, Rose was already gone.

Madison decides to break up an argument using what is probably not the best approach. Don't ask how Lin and Daveed might be able to put a man the size of Oak headfirst into a trash barrel. A wizard did it.

If you think there's a comma missing, it is there. It just got lost in Hamilton's hair, and I didn't realize that until I uploaded it.