Contrary to popular belief, being the daughter of Hermione Granger doesn't make me a prude. Neither does being British. I don't know where most people get the silly notion that we're a nation full of individuals with their wands up their backsides. Granted, by nature we are more civilised and demure than our American cousins but that did not makes us any less fun. Sure, we may not have frat parties every week or another but when we do decide to party, then there's only one way to describe us: an orgy of absolute chaos.

Like that time Monique Cameron invited me and half a dozen friends over for a sleepover during the summer of my fifth year only to wake us up past midnight so we could sneak out in our pyjamas to a muggle barn she'd arranged as the head quarters of a party she'd planned with at least fifty more people, thirty of whom happened to be overage guys. Being legally allowed to perform magic, they'd cleared the huge barn of all the waste and crap and let the cattle out loose into the night. What a poor guy the owner of this barn was.

By dawn the barn was as big a fucked up mess as it had been with the cattle; a thick mixture of hay and beer oozed on the floor, along with the many bottles of muggle vodka the guys had bought and the kitschy decorations to have fallen onto the floor. Littered here and there on the floor or on stacks of hay were my fellow guests too drunk to move or caught in a passionate embrace with someone else to care about anything else. We hadn't bothered to clean up because the muggle farmer who owned the barn could suddenly be heard screaming obscenities into the sunrise as he caught sight of his cattle and we were too busy scarpering out the doors and running barefoot through the muddy fields before collapsing in hysterics when we'd guaranteed our safety.

That had been a memorable night, because who could ever classify making out with cute, older guys in between haystacks and legging it from a pissed off muggle as anything but memorable?

Monique's party had gone down as one of the best and many still tried to top it but failed. To the best of my knowledge, Monique was still planning a similar event soon and I was going to check and double-check that my name was atop the invitations list.

Presently, however, I had been given an invitation to attend the ultimate party this summer and as much as I was just dying to go, I couldn't. James Potter, the philandering snake of a cousin I have, and a few mates of his were going to Ibiza for two weeks during the summer holiday and what says party better than Ibiza? And for two weeks!

But this brings us back to my predicament. I couldn't go.

My parents had flat-out refused to even allow me to think of the possibility of going. Why? Only because James and his friends are the biggest sluts to have graced my presence. Somehow, the thought of me being bikini-clad for two weeks in front of a dozen nineteen year old guys didn't appeal to my parents the way it appealed to me.

Which was such a shame really; James' friends were pretty fit.

I'd done everything in my power to try to convince my parents, from throwing tantrums to threatening to leave and go live with James in his Kensington apartment to promising good behaviour and a dress code of anoraks in Ibiza. Needless to say, none had been successful, to my utter misfortune.

My mum and dad were under the impression that I'd somehow lose my innocence were I to go, or so Lily had told me when she'd questioned their conduct towards my request. Little did they know I wasn't half as innocent as they thought. I was even pretty sure my father liked to think I was still a virgin. Hah! As if. My mother being my mother probably could tell the morning after I'd lost my virginity what had happened but she hadn't chosen to discuss it with me yet and for that I was grateful.

I'd lost my virginity at the same barn party two summers ago to a lean brunette three years my senior called Samuel in a very secluded corner of the barn where he'd thoughtfully hidden us from view by towering stacks of hay. It hadn't been perfect and it hadn't been what I'd set my expectations for it to be but it was unforgettable and I cherished that memory a lot. Samuel still held a place in my heart for that, even though we'd kept in touch sporadically afterwards. I didn't dwell too much on that - having my virginity taken by a complete stranger. I was legal, I'd consented and I'd always been the kind of girl who didn't like to get too sentimental about these things. If I was going to wait for the 'right' person to take my virginity, I might as well still be a virgin at forty. Personally, there is no right first person in my opinion. There's lust and then there's sex. If you're lucky, then there're emotions and love but speaking pragmatically, nobody gives a toss about those things the first time. I know I certainly didn't. There would be time to find the one but until then, I was happy to find the others and explore to my heart's content.

The only other boy to have had the pleasure of seeing me naked and in the throes of ecstasy was my ex, Callum. He'd been a seventh year and I was a pretty enough sixth year eager to snog him at every turn possible. But it wasn't like that; we'd understood each other more accurately than anyone could ever have thought, we comforted each other during rough spots and we learned to appreciate and respect each other by the end of the year. I'd appreciated him enough to let him sleep with me as a farewell to each other; we'd both conceded that there was no point in continuing a relationship with him being out of school and me trying to focus on my NEWTs so we'd parted with sex and gentle kisses and promises to write.

He did write but perhaps once every two months and I'd schooled myself into not missing him. I'd decided that this year would be dedicated solely to my education and I was doing pretty well with my NEWTs and actually making a decent effort to ignore the male species. Of course, that didn't mean that I didn't take the occasional break from my studies for a quick, recreational snog every now and then. In the other houses, kissing a different guy every week or so would be considered slag material. In Slytherin if you weren't one half of a couple it was perfectly natural. There was a lot of tension at this age; letting off some steam was understandable and we termed it satiating urges rather than being cheap. My Gryffindor cousins certainly didn't seem to grasp the concept when I tried to explain it to them.

Regardless of which, my NEWTs were approaching and I was certain to get above Exceeds Expectations in everything which meant that my parents should bloody well let me go to Ibiza! I hadn't gone to a party for over a year… was it too much to ask that they should give me this little treat? I was still so pissed at them however. I was eighteen for the love of Merlin, a legal adult within my own right and suitably mature when it came to emotions and all that palaver. I wanted to do something that'd completely cheese them off but I didn't know what exactly. Many images began to flit through my head ranging from getting plastered at the Hog's Head on Firewhisky to running starkers across the Quidditch pitch at the final game of the year. Most of my ideas would end up getting me expelled and being expelled wasn't that desirable so I racked my brains hard until it hit me and it was so dimwittedly simple it was no surprise I hadn't thought of it earlier.

A tattoo.

My parents loathed tattoos. They said they were vulgar, especially on women. Secretly, I kind of agreed but didn't mind that I would be getting something so vulgar if it annoyed them. Resolute, I began to think of a possible tattoo, where it would go and how on Earth it was to get there.

"Hello," I beamed widely as I approached Scorpius in the common room the next evening. He was sat with a few friends on the comfy armchairs a little way away from the extinguished fire. "I need you."

Scorpius ghosted a smirk. It was familiar. "Really, Rose, I never knew you entertained such thoughts about me, let alone this burning need," he shot, his sarcasm good-natured. I only smiled indulgently at him before sashaying to the back of his armchair and placing my hands on his shoulders and leaning down to whisper suggestively into his ear, my lips brushing against his skin.

"Mmm, yes… I'm so tired of using my fingers; I want the real thing."

My words had their immediate effect and he turned round to try and grab my face and kiss me but I'd pulled back with a laugh. He was too easy sometimes.

"Keep dreaming," I snickered as he pouted.

He was kind of cute of when he pouted. Kind of.

Scorpius Malfoy was a good friend. A good friend with lots of resources and links; it paid to have him around. We weren't exactly best friends but we were close enough that we spent an unreasonable amount of time in each other's company. He also spent a fairly good time trying to corner me and kiss me but I'd just push him away with a laugh.

He liked me, perhaps more than just like as my girl friends had pointed out but I valued our friendship too much to get upset by something as trivial as constantly having him thinking of ways to kiss me and possibly more. Hm…not quite that trivial it seems. Anyway, I found it rather flattering after three persistent years. It was a flooring surprise that he hadn't just given up on me all together after all those times I'd pushed him away. He'd gotten many girlfriends -being fairly popular with the females- but even then he would still try to steal a kiss from me. Poor loves, those girlfriends.

I'd let him kiss me once. Just once; on the last day of term at the end of our sixth year when he'd found me sniffling in an empty classroom after Callum had said his goodbye. No matter how much Scorpius Malfoy liked to act the conceited, stuck up prissy bitch that he is, he's a very good shoulder to cry on. Not that I cried; I found it degrading, especially in front of guys. I'd sniffed -I had a terrible cold that day- hiccupped and let a tear or two at the most slide down. Then, as expected, he kissed me. And I kissed him back, pretending it was Callum. That sounds pretty horrible, kissing a guy and pretending it was someone else but hey, I was distraught. I was pretty much allowed suicide at that point… not that I was that distraught.

He was good kisser and I let his lips move against mine for a few moments before I remembered this wasn't Callum and jumped back from him, mumbling an apology and darting for the door. This experience hadn't skewed our friendship like it should have done; I acted like nothing happened and he kept trying to kiss me like he hadn't succeeded just the one time. His persistence was endearing.

"What do you need?" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"A favour," I said and grabbed his arm to pull him up. He didn't fight me and sent a contrite grimace at our sniggering friends before allowing me to pull him away from the common room towards his mercifully empty dormitory. I let him in and turned to lock the door behind us with a charm.

"You know, that doesn't really encourage me to stop dreaming," he noted as I turned back round and went to sit on his bed, leaning back on my hands as I did so.

I ignored him. It was easier this way. "You mentioned you know how to perform that tattoo spell," I ventured a little uneasily. I still wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of getting a lifelong black doodle on my body but my determination was pretty firm.

Scorpius arched an eyebrow curiously, amusingly intrigued from his stance near the window. "Yeah and..?"

"And I want a tattoo, Stupid," I rolled my eyes.

"Why?" he smirked, smug almost as if he knew I had an incentive behind this stupid idea.

"It'd piss my parents off," I shrugged.

"What did you ask for that they denied?" he smiled indulgently, shrewdly.

"They won't let me go to Ibiza with James," I pouted, still sour.

"Ah yes, Ibiza; sun, sand, sex… every eighteen year old girl's dream. Can't say I fail to see their reasons for refuting you, though."

Glowering at him was a favourite pastime of mine and I exercised it now. It wasn't his business to critique my decisions and my desires. "Never mind that now," I said coldly. "Can you do it or not?"

"Sure. I usually charge but I'll give you the first one free."

"Cheers," I mumbled sullenly before his words sparked an intrigue in me. "Why do you need to charge? You're probably set to inherit half of Gringotts."

My words gave him the ego boost he didn't need and he smiled conceitedly, flashing white teeth in my direction. "I'm a natural born businessman, Rose. Whilst it is nice to know that I'm probably set for life with money I didn't even work for, I do believe in working ethics. I also like to exploit people and business is the best trade to do that."

"Conniving prick," I said by way of compliment and he gave a mock gracious inclination of his head.

"So what is that you want tattooed?"

His bed was a pretty comfortable place to shift uncomfortably and not meet his gaze. "The dark mark," I muttered and I heard his sharp inhalation.

"For a girl, you have the classiest taste in tattoos I've ever seen," he complimented with a low, awed voice and I couldn't help but to laugh a little, the mood alleviated slightly.

"Really?" I asked with a grin, glowing a little at the approval.

"Absolutely," he said fervently. "Most chicks want hearts and flowers and all that sentimental crap. The dark mark is probably the most audacious thing anyone's asked me to imprint."

Audacious; such a fitting word. It was audacious to get the mark of something that my parents risked their lives to cease when they were my age… it probably wouldn't be so audacious when they saw it and grounded me for life.

"Both my grandfather and father have it," his voice cut through my thoughts and I focused my attentions on him, curious. He'd never spoken of his family's sinister past before; it intrigued more than I liked to think. "I used to creep up to my grandfather and sit on his lap in a misleading display of affection just so I could trace it with my fingers. My father knew better and always wore long sleeves. But even after all these years it looks like they only got it done yesterday and the skin it's marked upon is still taut and young."

This information was darkly thrilling but I brushed it off after a moment's consideration. "They got their marks with darkest of magic. You're just going to imprint a picture on my skin using a legalized spell."

Scorpius shrugged, uncaring before a dark smile befell his lips and he pushed away from the wall to encroach my personal space on the bed. "So, where do you want it?" he asked slowly as he sat down beside me, his thigh touching mine in an oddly distracting kind of way. "If you really want to complete the dark mark thing then you're only choice is the inside of your left arm. If you want to be a bit more discreet, somewhere displayed to the public less often would be a better choice."

The idea of having a hideous mark on my left arm for the rest of my life didn't appeal to me. It'd ruin short sleeves for me forever knowing that I'd have to look at it every time I moved my hand. I wanted it somewhere not only people couldn't see it openly, but neither could I. "I don't want it on my arm," I said and looked down at the arm in question, staring blankly at the pale skin where a long blue vein was discernable. "But I don't know where else to have it."

"Well," he began slowly, just a conspiratorial edge to his voice. I watched with slowly waning breath as his forefinger trailed the inside of my arm and began to ascend, slowly acknowledging his newfound fondness for utilizing his body in his quest to win me over. Usually he just tried to jump me and latch his lips onto mine; this was much more subtle and infinitely more successful. When had Scorpius learnt to become subtle anyway?

I realized then that it had been a while since he'd jumped out at me and had probably spent this time plotting the best way to charm me. It wasn't an effort wasted in vain and I was subconsciously pleased that I had opted for a sleeveless white shirt.

"Most girls like it on their shoulder blades," he continued with a whisper as his fingers brushed up my shoulder and slipped beneath my shirt to trace patterns on my left shoulder blade, cheekily acknowledging the strap of my bra. Involuntarily, I leaned closer and closed my eyes on a gasp and dreamily enjoyed his touch; his fingers were warm and smooth on my skin. "But you're not most girls are you, Rose?"

Rhetoric. Another Scorpius Malfoy favourite but I was too busy just bathing in the sensuous feel of his fingers and the burning and throbbing of my body to care about little else. "Then there are some who are more daring and prefer their lower back…" and his fingers slipped from my shoulder to the exposed skin of my lower back. I thanked my lucky stars that I'd decided to wear a pair of jeans that were surprisingly low waisted. His fingers rubbed effortless, hypnotic circles on my skin and I let out another gasp as his hand cupped my side and gave me a caressing squeeze. My eyes drifted open languorously to take in his features as he administered these ministrations on me and his lust-diluted eyes were greedily taking in my every response whilst his breathing came out unevenly but there was resoluteness within every line of his face and he opened his lips to continue. His lovely, delectable pink lips.

"But you're the most daring girl I know, Rose, and I think you might like it right here."

And Oh sweet Merlin did I like it! His hand on my lower back remained firmly in place but his other hand had come to trace the skin above my left breast through the material of my shirt. The moan that he managed to elicit from me by this simple feat had him smiling indulgently at me, his lips touched with arrogance. My heart hammered under his hand and I was fairly certain he could feel its wild, erratic motion.

"Please," I breathed and took a hold of his hands and placed both of them firmly on my breasts before pulling his head down and capturing his lips with mine, falling back onto the bed and allowing him to topple down above me. As his lips attacked mine he managed to shuffle us on the bed into a more comfortable position with him being on top of me but somehow not crushing me deliciously with his body. I was very much into crushing at this point and pressed my body against his in a way that had him groaning deeply from the back of his throat into my mouth. His hands were softly kneading my breasts through my shirt and I just longed for him to rip my shirt and bra off and take my nipples into his mouth and do very deplorable things to me.

He deepened the kiss as I wrapped my arms around his neck and responded fiercely, just wishing to melt into him. His hands had left my breasts –much to my disappointment- and were appreciatively running down my sides until they stopped at the hem of my shirt and began to slowly ride the shirt up, exposing my pale skin to him.

I broke off the kiss with some difficulty and reached my hands to undo the buttons of my shirt as he looked on admiringly at the bare skin of my torso before him. He looked feral as he gluttonously stared at me and I liked the proprietary glint in his eyes. My fingers soon found their way to the end of his top and lustfully pulled it up a little, allowing my fingers to graze the tantalizingly warm, smooth skin of his abdomen. He decided to take pity on me and got rid of the top before throwing it behind him. Where it landed I had no clue as I was too busy ogling the strong muscles of his chest. The chest that was just burning with want and lust and the chest that was before me now and all mine to do with as I pleased. I reverently raised a hand to brush lightly over his right nipple and he hissed in sweet agony before grabbing my waist roughly, pulling me to him and kissing me forcefully.

"Please, Scorpius, please," I begged with a pained whisper against his lips, bucking against him and schooling his hands on the waistband of my jeans. How I desired nothing more than for him to just rip those silly things off me and allow me to straddle his waist and… just thinking these things made me more desperate to get the both of us fully naked and then finally, we'd get to the good stuff.

"Do you still want that tattoo?" he asked breathlessly as my hands found the zipper of his trousers and just beneath that lay my prize. How could he even think of tattoos at a time like this? When we were both just so eager to… damn! My thoughts were making me hornier by the minute.

"No; I want you inside of me. Now." I demanded and made to push his trousers down away from his waist but he caught my hands and looked down at me questioningly for a moment before he rolled off me on to his back and stared at the wooden ceiling of the four poster bed, his breathing erratic.

"What is it?" I asked hoarsely, reasoning with myself that it was hoarse because I was still ridden with lust and not because I was hurt that he'd stopped. I sat up and saw his grey eyes flit from the ceiling to my face.

"I can't have sex with you if it's going to be just sex," he replied rather calmly, his hands coming to entwine and rest beneath his head. His upper body was just pure decadence in this pose and angle.

"Why not?" I challenged boldly, pushing the lump in my throat down. "Don't tell me you're suddenly into that moral shit the Gryffindors have been trying to get me to buy into."

He laughed weakly at that but only briefly. "Say we do sleep together but what happens after that? Do we become a couple? Will you regret it and never look me in the face properly again? Is it worth botching up our friendship? Will your parents approve?"

"Screw my parents," I said sharply, still sour at the reminder. "They can't tell me who I can and can't see… or sleep with rather."

"But that's exactly why they aren't letting you go to Ibiza," Scorpius argued. "They're afraid you'll end up with some slapper or get raped or Merlin knows what else. And your cousin and his friends aren't exactly chivalrous virgin material."

"I'm eighteen! It's time they learned that I can make my own decisions and protect myself aptly enough and if there's one thing I can protect myself against, it's you Scorpius Malfoy."

"You wouldn't want to boast that point too much," he threatened with a dark grin before the mask of nonchalance was back. "Would you be willing to date?"

"Not before NEWTs," I said. "I don't know –afterwards maybe…"

"And then what? We date, have sex and hang out but what if we end up breaking up or staying together forever…and I'll tell you now that I don't plan to stick to one girl for the majority of my late teens and twenties."

I scowled and shot him a poisonous glare, my arms crossing beneath my breasts. "That's certainly going to make me want to date you," I snarked, chagrined that even if we did end up going out together he'd still leave me for another person because he didn't plan on being a sad-o and sticking with one person for the rest of his life. "We'll date and it doesn't matter if we break up mutually. I'll have your head before you leave me for a floozy though."

"But I don't want that!" he said in frustration and sat up, his hands running through his hair. "You're a great friend; I don't want to risk that if we end up breaking up we'd be too bloody awkward around each other."

"So let me get this straight, you want to date me but you don't want to break up with me later on even though you'd like to see other people because you want to remain friends. Look's there's a catch 22 in this situation," I frowned and he frowned right back as he slowly leaned back into his prior position and I just had to glance at his chest. I just had to; it was simply irresistible. "Sometimes having a relationship with a friend and breaking up afterwards doesn't necessarily have to ensue awkwardness."

"Yeah, Weasley, and how many people do you know who've tried that and experienced no awkwardness?" he scoffed.

"Touché," I mumbled. "We could date and not give a toss about what happens?"

The glare he sent me told me that that wasn't he'd had in mind and I sighed irritably. "What do you care anyway?" I asked hotly, exasperated by the arguments he kept flinging my way. "You've been chasing me for three years and now you don't want to date?"

"I do want to date but not if we end up breaking up."

"Yet you also want to see different people," I mused and then gave out a short bark of amused laughter. "No-win situation here, Scorpius. Unless you date others before you date me and that could take years and quite frankly, I'm not going to sit around waiting for you."

"So we remain friends, no dating?"

I smirked decadently and leaned towards his body, my hands on either side of his torso. His eyebrow rose in intrigue, my favourite of his many idiosyncrasies. "You see what's funny about that is that that is the sensible choice but I've grown quite fond of the idea of dating you. But you don't want that, huh? Let's just call it friends with the added perks."

His body bucked slightly against mine as I positioned myself properly over him, my legs between his, and he hissed out his reply. "Is this the kind of perk you had in mind?"

"Yes," I purred. "Deal?"

Scorpius gave me the once over briefly before he sighed again and the lust drained out of his eyes, to my utter disappointment. "No, no deal."

"Why?" I groaned and slapped his arm lightly in frustration at being thwarted.

"Friends with sex is dating without emotions," he shrugged. "But eventually emotions jump on for the ride and we'd be in a relationship. And we're back to the dating argument."

"Do you have a vendetta against dating?" I pouted. "If you're so against emotions and romance just become a whore."

That wasn't the right thing to say and his eyes clouded with anger. "If I wanted to become a whore we would've been done here quite a while ago. Excuse my rudeness but you don't seem all that grateful that I'm taking your future happiness into account."

"Oh, you think I'm going to mourn over you?" I asked with just the perfect amount of dryness and the anger in his eyes doubled.

"If the disappointment in your eyes that I have now thwarted your efforts to sleep with me twice is anything to go by, then I'd say yes, you're going to mourn over me," he clipped coldly and I blushed lightly. He had a point.

"You could've decided to like someone who isn't your friend."

"Like you decided to fall for Callum Sullivan last year?" he jeered. "Really, Rose, a Hufflepuff? You can do so much better."

My cheeks glowed bright red in anger at his words. Who the hell was he to critique my choice in boyfriends? "Yeah? Like I can do you, you mean? Oh no, wait, you don't want me to do you." I got off him and the bed entirely and made to button my shirt quickly and petulantly before I felt him behind me, his breath barely brushing the nape of my neck.

"Rose," he sighed in a weary voice and I turned round to face him, snappily dropping my hands from the last button.

"What?" I asked insolently, my tone more cutting than was necessary.

He looked down at me with a small, poignant smile as one hand came to deftly undo one of my shirt buttons. Who in bloody, blazing Hades knew how to undo a shirt button one handed so seamlessly? Merlin this boy had good fingers. I tried not to think of these things wanting to remain pissed off with him but these little actions were a very good mind-changer but still…I had to be mad at him!

"I think you should take that shirt off," he suggested huskily and his hand went to another button but I slapped it away, stepped back and glared spitefully.

"Just stop these games, Scorpius," I ordered icily. "You don't want to date in fear of shitting up our friendship? Don't bother; you've already succeeded."

I made for the door, pulling out my wand out of my pocket as I did so but he'd gotten there before me and stood against the door facing me. He looked jaded but the set of his jaw was firm as he silently took me in. I waited for him to speak; he obviously had something to say otherwise he would've let me walk out.

"Since I've already fucked up our friendship I think I'm open to dating you now," he said coolly.

I snarled at him and raised my wand in his face. "The only thing that's going to get fucked up is that pretty little face of yours if you don't move."

Scorpius kept his ground and gently took my hand and lowered my wand, meeting no resistance from me as I looked upon his fingers around my wrist with the kind of look I rewarded for anything small, creepy and disgusting to have crawled out from underneath a rock.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he mumbled as if the word tasted funny his lips and I scowled. He didn't like to apologize much, I knew that for a fact, and most of the time his apologies were half baked and insincere and I was put out at the thought that he was lying. It would be so like him.

"You don't mean that," I bit, deciding that he was indeed lying, and moving forward to push him away from the door. Even the feel of his warm chest beneath my fingers couldn't deter me from my hurt and anger. Obviously, I couldn't get past him and I was just debating which curse was the most effective in throwing him across the room before he'd overpowered me and wrested the wand out of my hand, chucking it onto one of the beds.

"Hey!" I yelled indignantly but he'd grabbed my wrists and pulled me the little steps there was to reach his bed and toppled us down on the duvet, me landing awkwardly onto him with where I'd been thinking of having my face quite a few moments ago; slap bang before one of his nipples. I struggled to get up and punch him in the admittedly muscled stomach but his hands were still burning manacles of flesh around my wrists. He was only nice enough to right my position on him so that I was on face level with him at a range that permitted me to comfortably inspect his smouldering eyes.

"I don't care anymore," he told me roughly. "I don't want dating, I don't want friendship; I just want you."

Why was he saying all the wrong things tonight? Usually he was a pretty articulate son of a bitch.

"No!" I said furiously and was incensed that tears had started to sting my eyes. Oh God, how fucking degrading! "You're just saying that. You will care again in a few hours, days, weeks and Merlin only knows how long. You've made your thoughts about what ever could be between us pretty clear and I'm sorry but they don't appeal that much to me." I tried to get off him but he wouldn't let me. This was fast becoming tiresome.

"I can amend them," he suggested and pulled me back as I tried to get off again.

"Again, you just say that," I snapped, really becoming quite irritated.

It seemed he too was losing patience because he snarled at me and flipped me over so that he was on top of me, my arms above my head, pinned by his hands. "I don't love you," he told me harshly, his teeth bared. "But I'm infatuated. For almost four years now I've thought of this moment and the prospect of having you but our friendship is getting in the way. I know you don't mind but I do. I can learn to not care as much but you're going to have to give me that opportunity."

"Why should I?" I said proudly, my chin jutting just a little. "You just said you don't love me but you want to date me and I know that if we did go out together you'd eventually leave me. I'm not that into the idea anymore, thanks."

"Not everyone dates out of love," he said coldly. "Besides, what if I do fall in love with you during our relationship? What if you're the one?"

I laughed but the sound was detached and forced. "You're not that kind to believe in that shit. You're not the kind to want to get married at a young age. You're not the kind who sticks with one girl and you're not the kind to end up marrying the likes of me. You were right; our friendship is too valuable for a petty fling. Let's stop now before we cause it anymore damage."

"Is that your choice?" he asked quietly. "You're not willing to see what might be?"

"No. I'm not the sentimental type; I don't think about what might be. There are other boys, Scorpius, who would be willing to date me without wanting to see other people, without fearing about botching a friendship and who wouldn't have wasted my time with useless conversations like this."

Scorpius took my words with a martyred expression before he set his jaw. "We can't date, but I still want you," he told me as he slowly released my hands and rolled onto his back, his voice pained. I made no effort to move yet. "It's going to take a bit of time to remedy what tonight might have done to our friendship but perhaps… perhaps we can after a few years."

"It doesn't have to be a few years," I breathed, overcome with a sense of logic that I could swear I didn't have around when I needed it. "It can be tonight or tomorrow or next week… it doesn't matter when as long as you realise that no relationship, healthy or not, forever or temporary is going to do anything to our friendship. We're too close for that, too smart to let some stupid emotions get between us. Emotions are for Gryffindors. And Hufflepuffs," I added as an afterthought and he laughed quietly, turning his head to look at me, our faces close enough me for me to inspect the perfect clarity of his skin. "Being together doesn't have to mean sacrificing our friendship. We can be lovers and friends at the same time."

"For a Slytherin, that was an appalling Gryffindor speech," he smirked before he sighed. "I'm not sure…"

"Can I suggest something?" I asked as I slid off the bed and stepped before him, placing my hands on his knees and pushing them apart to allow me to better step in between his legs. He looked shocked at such a forward move and I allowed a confident smile. It shouldn't have come as such a shock to him; if anything, I was the most audacious girl he knew.

"Go ahead," he choked as my hands went to my jeans and I quickly pulled them off and in doing so caused Scorpius' already gaping mouth to stretch even wider. I loved knowing that I could make him react like this.

"What ever could happen between us is a thing of the future and seeing as how we both don't take Divination we're never going to really find out how things might turn out if we don't try," I said calmly and climbed atop him to straddle his waist. He hissed out in pleasure and his hands immediately bit my waist as he took me in with a very pleasing look of hunger on his face. "You're worried about our camaraderie but let me assure you now that I will do everything I can to make sure it is in no way tainted. And even if perhaps we don't get to progress to become lovers, I know I very much want you now and sleeping with you isn't going to botch anything if I can help it. Okay?"

"I want you too," he growled, his eyes closing as I shifted just a little –completely on purpose- on his waist.

"That's all I needed to hear," I smiled lightly, feeling a tad heady at his words. It was breathtaking to know that he wanted me, had wanted for four years and had still not given up on me and cared enough about me to risk that want for a friendship. But right now, it seemed that I had managed to ease his fears on that subject enough to have him intend to sleep with me. He was exactly what I wanted in this moment. "Besides," I smirked and leaned towards him to press my lips against his throat delighting in the feel of his warm chest beneath me and wishing I'd decided to take my shirt off as well. "What if you won't want to sleep with any other girl after me?"

"Enough chatter, Weasley," he snarled and bucked against me as I flickered out my tongue against his skin to find his pulse. I smiled smugly against his throat, pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple and drawing back, my hands unfortunately having to desert his lovely chest to try and pull my shirt off without bothering to undo the buttons. I was that desperate.

"Leave it on," Scorpius rasped and tugged my hands away from the hem of my shirt. "Just undo the buttons."

I briefly wondered why having sex with me whilst wearing an open shirt appealed to him but thought he must just like the sight of my breasts playing hide and seek with him from between the shirt folds. But I didn't want to be the one to open the shirt. "You open it," I demanded and schooled his hands on the bottom button.

"You're such a whore," he muttered darkly as he quickly and deftly undid all the buttons and pushed back the shirt to reveal the satin and lace peach bra I was wearing. He glanced down at my knickers and smirked to see a match. Yeah, like I would wear granny knickers and anything that didn't match. Fat chance.

"That's why you can't get enough of me, I'm sure," I breathed and bent down once more to press my lips to his and this time, the feel of my skin on his skin wasn't just delightful; it was pure, unadulterated bliss and white hot desire coursed through my body. Scorpius' hand came to wrap around my neck and draw me closer as my lips met his in a greedy kiss, our mouths moving against each other roughly. I moaned into his mouth as he pulled me against him even tighter and began to caress my backside, his fingers somehow consciously slipping underneath the band of my knickers to conspicuously trace the area above my core.

Quite suddenly, he pulled back with a smirk. I blinked down at him, confused and more than just a little irritated.

"What?" I quite positively growled.

"Nothing," he shrugged with a flash of his teeth. "Just thinking that your crotch would've made an excellent place for a tattoo."

Ah.

My anger was replaced with smugness.

"I don't need a tattoo to piss my parents off," I smiled and pressed against his hand just a little, leaning once more to almost capture his lips but not quite. Surprise flickered in his grey eyes but he didn't seem to wholly object. Yeah… like he would.

"Why's that?" he asked and began to ever so delicately move his fingers right where I wanted them to be moved.

"I've got you."

Disclaimer: JK claims HP as hers. I own nothing but the plot.