“Sweets” is a word that sends me back through time. Forget Time Turners, all I need is some Drooble’s. As a child I relished the trips to Honeydukes, never forgetting the warm honeyed scent that made me crave the magical sugar that I knew lay in every single item of produce that the shop played host to. Every slab of creamy toffee, every chunk of powdery coconut ice, and every scalding acid pop told to me a different story. As a child they represented treats and rewards. As an adult, they show to me what once was. A timeless world of colour and sugared delights.
As I grew older it was you who became my timeless world, for every glance you paid me, every smile, every word, made every second hand of every clock stop. The delicate lines of your face had enough power to make time surrender, give up, become immortal. Your laugh seemed to make fun of those crawling hours, for it swatted them away like a plague of pesky bugs. With you, I felt constant, sure that the beauty you told me I had was real. I felt owned, but never possessed. You held my heart, and it bled in your hand, and I could never say no to you.
You would often say no to me.
“No Rose! Those chocolate frogs need to be saved!”
But what for?
“For a special occasion of course!”
Wasn’t this a special occasion?
“Reaching the end of Thursday isn’t a special occasion.”
But we had a full hour together before we had to be in our separate common rooms.
“I can’t relent Rose! We won’t have any frogs on your birthday next week! They’ll hop away… and we’ll be left with nothing.”
Left with nothing.
I’m left with nothing now. Nothing except a chocolate frog, still in its wrapper. I’d visited Honeydukes to get it, and now I walk, shoving snow aside with my feet, feeling the cold wet flecks hit my cheeks, like they’re kissing me. Their chill doesn’t really affect me, for my skin was so cold to start with. Our skins were always cold, but our kisses were always warm, sometimes hot, little pockets of heat enclosed in our pair of white cold faces. Hot little secrets. Hot little probing secrets that could either release a melody of giggles from me, a wide grin from you. More than once they released greater things. Whatever action occurred between us, it always started with a kiss. And ended.
I only wish I could’ve kissed you goodbye when the final end arrived. I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss your corpse. For I had placed a tentative finger upon your cheek in nothing but curiosity and hastily retracted it, for the cold frightened me, thus rendering me incapable of placing my lips upon yours. But I had heard you breathing a mere hour ago, and you had been wondrously warm then. I even placed my hands on your bare chest in an attempt to heat my stiff frozen fingers. When you didn’t twitch and squirm and complain I knew something deathly was afoot. You died quite soon after I’d imprinted my cold hands upon your chest. I hate the idea that it may have been me who had frozen your heart into immobility.
I dread to think how cold your face is now, hiding underneath all that damp cloying earth, further covered by this thickset layer of ice crystals, more commonly known as snow. I can see how white your face must be, though now it may be grey, your skin translucent for no blood beats beneath it anymore. If I knew a way I’d give you all my blood, just so that we share one last hug, maybe a little joke, but definitely a kiss before my blood run out, and we both died together. And if and when they found our corpses we’d be buried under the same headstone, for the rigor mortis would hold our entwined bodies together, preferably for eternity. After all, you always were and are my timeless world.
The stone would read something like this: Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy; we were going to have children and get married but death got in the way of that.
You had often accused me of being morbid.
For some reason you were always the sunnier one. Maybe it was because of the size of the windows in your Ravenclaw common room, that I knew let light and sunrays stream in, lighting up your face and illuminating your blonde hair into gold. My Gryffindor windows couldn’t compete. Albus and I had spent long enough trying to make them bigger! Gouging holes into the tower wall had never been part of the plan though…
Just like this hadn’t really.
Oh how I wish you weren’t dead!
This thought grabs me round the throat as I slide down against a tree that resides in the forest that surrounds our school and Hogsmeade. I want you with me so badly, I just want to leave this place and exit my own head so that I can lie in the ground with you and hold you to me and promise you that I love you and that one day all of this will be ok. You knew how much I loved you, so why are you dead? I want to hold your hand and I want you to tell me that you love me just so that I can say it back knowing that you’re listening.
For I can say “I love you” over and over again now, but no matter how many times I say it, or how loud I say it, the clock seems to tick louder and I fear it is this that is stopping you from hearing me. Time is rapidly building up between your moment of death and the present second, so I’m constantly getting further away when all I want is to be near you. I hate it how that second before death and that second after hold so much within them. So much impenetrable space that I yearn to fill forever, suspended in time with you just before you exit the world I’m condemned to stay in and you fly off to a place where I can’t reach you.
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy I would bleed myself dry if it meant I could see you again.
Unfortunately I can’t do that. For I have one last gift for you.
My trembling fingers fumble with the wrapper, and I can feel the little frog desperately trying to escape from underneath. Its agile little bouncy legs ready for a jump into the wilderness.
Once the wrapper is free, I let it bounce off, and I let the card slide from my hands. You were never interested in the card. All you wanted was that sweet, sweet taste of the chocolate. The taste of life. The taste of a timeless world and sugared delights.
After all, you always were and always will be my timeless world.
Which is why my soul is being carried away on a cloud of tears, as irrelevant as the frozen water vapour around me, more commonly known as snow. Time will always carry on, and you are no longer there to freeze it for me. I know this is your way of telling me that my attempts of not carrying on without you are futile.
I just hate it that you’re not there to share sweets with me anymore. Eating them by myself isn’t half as much fun.
On a higher note (am I channelling your optimism?) being alone seems a small price to pay for the love you’ve let me give you, and the love I’ve received back. And you never know, one day we might be together again. And it’ll be forever.
For you always were and always are my timeless world.
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