The sheer blond head was bobbing up and down the crowd. He waited near the door and watched its progress. Eventually, he knew, it would meander towards where he was standing. He’d braved this particular compartment just so he could feel this person fleeting past.

Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.

And gone.

“You smell like fresh lime,� he thought. Quietly, he made his way back to his friends.

*

It was summer, and it smelled too much like summer. Something about the heated cement going straight up his nostrils. He wasn’t yet sure what to think of it. Everybody liked summers, but he had never liked being assaulted by anything. Not even the weather. Tying his longish hair into a ponytail, he entered the store, and suddenly felt old.

The place was overcrowded with Hogwarts students and their noise. Shuddering, he tried to exit, and then found his path blocked by a familiar blond head. He couldn’t breathe, but this assault, he didn’t mind. It was quite welcome.

Even if he said nothing and left quicker than he had meant to.

*

Her breasts were soft and supple and gave him some comfort; he burrowed deeper and deeper into her, and it felt good and warm and unreal, but her hair smelt too strongly of jasmine. He hated jasmine. Plus the hair was black, and though he hadn’t thought about it for years, he was thinking of it now, of how he wished it wasn’t black.

He knew he deserved the slap, so there was no regret in walking away.

*

How can they meet so often, as though fate couldn’t resist it? Maybe, fate really couldn’t resist it. Maybe, he was a fucking idiot. Maybe, he ought to do something.

“Hello,� he tried to say. He was surprised by how loud his voice was.

“Hello.� After some hesitation, a reply: “Do we know each other?�

“No, but I remember you from school.�

“Ah.�

“I’m Scorpius Malfoy.�

“Oh. Oh yes. Hmm. You were with Rose and Albus, weren’t you?�

“I was.�

“Well, what brings you here today?�

Fate. Certainly fate.

*

He could see it in the eyes: the loneliness. He could see it because every time he caught his own reflection, it was the same thing that stared right back. God, how he hated it. He wanted it gone from those dark blue eyes because their dark blue should show nothing but mirth. He just didn’t know how to drive it away.

“Care to have lunch with me sometime?� he asked, trembling inside.

A look of surprise. More trembling.

“Is that why you keep coming here?�

“That depends.�

“On what?�

“On whether or not you’d mind if that was the truth.�

Laughter. He should have stopped trembling now, but when the answer arrived in the form of a nod, he was still shaking.

*

To his own surprise, he found he could make people laugh. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to pull that off; he just had. Lunches and dinners and lunches and dinners later, he was kissing lips he had dreamt of ages before.

“You taste so wonderful,� he gasped. He shut up when he realised that they were both naked.

*

“When?�

“First year.�

“But you were too young to even like someone.�

“Didn’t matter. I saw you and it happened.�

“What?�

“The thought that you were beautiful.�

“A passing fancy.�

“It certainly lasted a while.�

“I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered, I suppose.�

“Can’t be new to you. Being fancied.�

“Has been years since I cared.�

“Tell me something.�

“Mmm?�

“Why were you … you know, single when we met?�

“Things change.�

*

Things changed. That was the problem. Because they did, he found that he was alone in the bed. It was very unclear what those things were and how they had changed; the symptom was all he had.

Pulling on his clothes, he rushed from his flat and ran off in search of her.

*

“I can think of a million reasons why!� she snapped.

“I’d like to hear them.�

She told him all right. "I am too old for you", she said. "You are living out an old fancy. You know what doesn’t work? Fucking old fancies. Because when people grow up, they realise that they are different and they have changed and what had seemed so fantastic in the past is nothing but a shadow in the present and fuck it, I’m tired of it. I want to have a normal relationship."

“I’ll give you one.�

“No, you can’t.�

“Yes, I can!�

She was trying to escape from his arms but surprisingly, he had the strength to hold on. At last, she gave up and gave in.

*

What was so wrong about having wanted someone for a long time and finally being with them? In some cases, it didn’t work out; in others, it might. Once upon a time, he had spent hours remembering her in the school corridors. Then, he had stopped. Then, she had simply returned. Then, he had realised his infatuation had stuck. Then, she had begun liking him too. Now, they were both starting to understand that they could stay together without their togetherness being an example of transience. Sometimes, they didn’t talk, but he would let her lie back and rub her feet tenderly. Sometimes, he would snap out of a bizarre dream and find her already naked. Sometimes, she would read something amusing from the Daily Prophet, and they would laugh and laugh and laugh. Sometimes, they would argue but always return in the end, their lips crushing hard and hands pressing everywhere, and the heat of her around him would be simply, simply unbelievable.

“I love you, Victoire,� he said, and though it took a few more months, one morning, while he was shaving, she walked up to him, still bleary-eyed eyed with sleep, and smiling with her dark blue eyes, said, “I love you too.�