𝘿𝙐𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎 ; 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮

fifteen,

xv. | FIFTEEN.
❦
28 september, 1998
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Bollocks.

Bloody bollocks.

I hurried down the coiling staircase of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower — sweat beading my temples, as a stitch under my rib hindered my running. Shaking my head and mumbling to myself, I thought about Scorp's association with the girl.

Although he was utterly horrible during our last interaction — completely disregarding the love I held for him for years wasn't a simple task.

Getting over him was, in no way, shape, or form, linear. And it often took a long time before someone's heart could heal after a breakup. Especially when it was the split of a first love. It was my situation exactly.

I was jealous. Envious. Of the way the girl fit next him so perfectly — it was like she was more "in his league."

And regardless of my new affinity towards Mr. Malfoy, I would always hold Scorpius dear.

Shaking my thoughts from my brain, I paced to another wing of the castle — fleeting out an archway.

I strolled through the exterior corridors, reckoning that caring for my Venomous Tentacula was much more vital than any other homework given to her.

And much more vital than any thoughts of Scorpius or his father.

After my journey across the barren castle — I arrived to the Greenhouses, only to see a telltale patch of blonde hair.

What a pleasant surprise. I couldn't even describe the anger that plagued me, as I haphazardly walked over to my pot. In the span of a moment, I had gone from severe melancholy to madness once again.

"Scorpius." It was evident how taken aback I was in my voice. I huffed agitatedly — the scent of fertilizer and humidity thick in the air.

He was the last person I wanted to see.

He turned, eyes dilating at the sight of me. "Oh, hi, Ivory. Why are you still up?"

I shrugged and sighed. "I was up doing other schoolwork. What are you doing here?" I queried — wrenching my dragon-hide gloves onto my palms, instantly foraging through the soil.

He reclined onto a terrarium, drumming his fingers against its glassy surface. "I couldn't sleep either. I'm sorry, Ive."

I rolled my eyes, heaving a sigh of acrimony. "It's your own fault, you know." I snapped. "I'm not a coward like you, I won't let you use me for your own pleasure."

"Always so stubborn — " He drawled, eyes scanning around.

I could smell marijuana lingering on his oxford shirt. He wasn't really sorry. At all.

I cursed beneath my breath as I swatted off a blood-thirsty and carnivorous branch of the Tentacula, Scorpius lurching to my aid.

I slapped his hand away, treating it as I would to one of the pesky branches. "I'm fine. Don't fucking try this, I'm not forgiving you this time. Your father told us we shouldn't see each other anymore and I agree with him."

"You agree with him?" Scorpius scoffed, "Because this isn't better for either of us. He's got you brainwashed, my father is a washed-up bastard of a bachelor who can't find love himself — "

"Enough!" I hissed, hewing him off.

I bit my bottom lip, glowering at him through slitted eyes. He stared back down at me, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, malice flourishing within his eyes.

"Maybe he's right. It's not good for us — I'm not happy, and obviously, neither are you." He claimed manipulatively — features pinched. "It seems like you never are, no matter what I do."

I slammed down the terrarium hood over the rabid plant, staring as it thrashed from underneath. My reflection gaped back at me — my dark eyes vacant and forlorn, mousy brunette hair unkempt from the grief he's caused me.

I wouldn't keep living my life like this.

I sighed and shut my eyes.

"If you love me why do you treat me like that?" I asked in a subdued voice — laced with sadness. "Someone who genuinely loves me wouldn't do this."

He fluttered his lashes shut, a long sigh emitting from his lips. "I do love you. I really do."

"I would love you the exact same if you didn't do the things you did." I choked on my words, and his face broke into dejection.

"Listen to me," He whispered, turning me around slowly and looking at me gravely, "I love you, so, so much. I don't want to lose you. I won't lose you." He pulled me closer by my hips, and like the fool I am, I melted into him like hot glass. "Please, Ivory. I intend on marrying you someday. And — Alora, she — I'm not with her when I only want you."

Before I could protest, his lips caught mine into an affectionate kiss — my chin stuck in his grasp. Our lips mingled together, the only sounds being the croaks of toads, the singing of the katydids, and our vulgar sounds of snogging. His hands migrated down my torso — further, further — until they attained my hips.

It felt — nefarious. But affection was long overdue. I was so touch deprived from just a couple of weeks apart.

He was like my personal puppeteer, calling each shot. And I can't believe I allowed for it. Fell for it.

Every. Single. Time.

My limbs were attached to strings and he put on his show, while making an absolute jigsaw of my heart. I was, again, caught in the crossfire of the wounding bullet of his love, which always made my normally headstrong self faulty.

Hence the reason I gave in. Once again.

Pulling away, he cracked that insufferable, lopsided. "Later, Ive."

In no way do I feel gregarious.

"Later."