Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Summary: Because he deserves to have someone mess with him for a change, and no one else seems willing to do it.

Of Cocky Boys and Pretend Dating

She has never cared for him, to be perfectly honest. He's loud, obnoxious, and far too cocky for his own good. It sounds an awful thing to say, given the closeness of their two families, but Rose has never been one to skirt around the truth. She lets him know she doesn't like him, and even though he's never told her in so many words, she's fairly certainly he feels the same.

So color her surprised when he asks her out one day in her fifth year. At first, she's annoyed, because does he think she's stupid? He's slept with half the girls in her family—hell, he's probably slept with half the girls at Hogwarts—so it's obvious what he wants from her. She thinks it should be equally obvious to him that she is never—never—going to give it to him. But… well, he certainly appears to be in earnest.

And suddenly she's no longer annoyed, but incredibly amused. She could say no to him right now—which, of course, would only lead to him asking some other girl out to achieve his end—or she could have a little fun with him and lead him on a merry chase. It's not as if she has anything better to do: She's just broken up with her latest boyfriend, and it's early enough in the school year that her workload hasn't yet become unbearable. Plus, Merlin knows that Lysander Scamander deserves to have a girl mess with him, and Rose is just the person to do it.

"Okay, I accept," she tells him, putting down her quill and resting her chin on her hands. "Where are we going for our first date?"

He grins triumphantly at her. "I was thinking the kitchens. We could sneak down there for a late night dessert, share a bottled for firewhiskey from my private stash—" he gives her a wink, as if this is the sort of thing that would impress her. Does he not know her at all?—"and… enjoy the night."

It takes every ounce of self-control she has not to laugh, because where in the world did he get the idea that she would be that easy? She's no Molly or Roxanne, willing to sleep with any guy that crosses her path; she has her standards. So, "I can't do that!" she exclaims, feigning horror. "That would be breaking the rules!" Which anyone who actually knew her would realize isn't a huge issue, but Lysander doesn't know her. Not well enough. He sees only the overachiever, without ever realizing that she's also got a playful, mischievous streak a kilometer wide.

Honestly, though, she's glad he doesn't know her well. She enjoys watching the look of shock cross his face. Clearly, no one has ever turned down that "perfect" date before. "Er, okay. What would you like to do, then? I'd suggest Hogsmeade, but no trip is coming up for a few weeks…"

"We can study together in the library?" she suggests.

Horror replaces the shock. "I… I guess so?" He pauses, then regains his stride. "But wouldn't you rather do something a little more… romantic?"

She purses her lips in pretend annoyance. "Don't you know me at all? Do I look like someone who wants that?"

"Of course not!" he hastily assures her, and then winces at how that sounds (that can't be the right answer, can it? But she doesn't seem annoyed). He wonders just where he went wrong in this conversation. How had he managed to put his foot in his mouth already? He had been perfectly charming and suave.

"Because if you want that, you should be asking Lily out, not me." Which she thinks is a very funny thing to say because he already has asked Lily out, only for Lily to unequivocally tell him after just a week of dating that she would never, ever sleep with him. He dropped her like a hot potato right then and there. "I'm certainly not interested in romance."

He has no response to that, so he does the only thing he can think of: He ignores the suggestion altogether. "Er, so, the library it is. What day and time should we meet?"

"Saturday at eight. In the morning," she adds for clarification when Lysander doesn't show enough reluctance to have understood her the first time around. She can see that he wants to protest, that he's already wondering if she's worth it, so she gives him a smoldering look. She's quite good at it; it's never yet failed to set a boy's blood on fire.

"Alright," Lysander agrees with a sigh. "Eight it is."

For fun, she invites Joran Thomas to the library, as well. They were once a couple, years and years ago, but their relationship only lasted for a month before they realized that they made better friends than significant others. She feels a little awkward asking him to play along with her "game," but she doesn't know who else to turn to, and he is a willing enough pawn (he's never liked Lysander much, either).

She offers no explanation as to why she's with another guy when her "date" finally turns up (twenty minutes late, she would like to add), despite his narrowed eyes and raised brow. She waits until Joran leaves to get a book before she finally whispers, "Sorry." He shrugs his shoulders petulantly. "I told him not to come, but he didn't listen. I… I don't think he's over me yet, and when he started following me out of the dormitory even after I told him not to, I just didn't have the heart to stop him."

Once again, Lysander is out of his element, facing another dating first. Clearly, he had assumed Joran was a friend that she had simply run into at the library and hadn't been able to shake off; the "truth" has caught him off guard. "He's an ex-boyfriend? And he still has feelings for you?"

Innocently, she replies, "Yes, why?"

He's about to say something he'd probably end up regretting when Joran returns. By then, however, Lysander has already opened his mouth, so he has to say something. "Er, hi," he says, turning to face Joran. "I don't think we've ever met. I'm Lysander Scamander."

Joran doesn't return the winning smile Lysander tries to give him. "I know who you are. You're the arse who's trying to take my girl from me."

"Oh, Joran, stop," Rose chides, but she beams at him and bats her eyelash in the very picture of encouragement—much to her date's annoyance.

It goes on like this for nearly an hour, until Lysander finally thinks of a way to snatch her attention away from Joran, to focus it back on himself. "You're wrong," he says, pointing to her half-finished essay. "The lethifold doesn't wither in sunlight. It just prefers not to come out during the day because it hunts better at night. Kind of hard to miss a giant black cloak-like thing coming towards you on a sunny day, yeah?"

"I'm not wrong," she snaps, pulling her work towards her, away from his watching eyes. "How would you know, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Maybe it's because my parents do this for a living? And, if that's not reason enough to believe me—" it wasn't—"I've seen a lethifold come out in sunlight with my own eyes, and it didn't shrivel up, I assure you."

She's instantly interested. "You've seen one? When?"

A grin because here at last is his ticket towards winning her over. "When I was twelve, during a school summer vacation, Mum and Dad took Lor and I with them on one of their ventures into the tropics. Mum was doing a series of articles for The Quibbler about the most mysterious creatures of the Wizarding world, and since few people survive attacks from lethifolds, not much is known about them. They were perfect for her to study."

"What was it like?" she asks, unconsciously leaning towards him. "To see one, I mean."

He has two options: he can lie and act cool about it, or he can tell her the truth. With anyone else, he would choose the former, but already he can already tell that Rose is not a girl to lie to. The truth is always the best option with her; she's too quick for any attempt at subterfuge. "It was terrifying," he admits. "Mum had us all hide in trees to take notes while she took a nap in the middle of a clearing. At first, I thought it was a stupid plan-no lethifold was going to attack her, not which so much sunlight around-but after about an hour or so one came out. Then I was terrified that Mum was going to die because Dad took ages to finally cast the Patronus Charm that scared it off. He wanted to get as much information on them as possible before he sent it off."

"I'm sorry," she says. "That must have been awful."

"It was. But, hey, at least it got Lor and I got out of going on any more trips after that," he laughs, trying to make light of the situation. For once, she actually admires him for his attempt at humor.

"I suppose there is that, at least. Merlin knows the two of you hated those trips. You wouldn't stop whining about them for weeks afterwards." He laughs again at the memory, nodding his head in agreement, and without even noticing it, she's laughing, too. It's such a contagious sound, his laughter; how had she never realized that before?

Something changes between them that day. Hearing about his fears makes him somehow more… human, though she's not quite sure why. All she knows is that, from that day forward, things are different. She's no longer just playing a game with him. No, now she's genuinely interested.

She lets him take her out on a real date because that's what people do when they're legitimately interested in each other, though she still vows that she will never sleep with him. Her intentions within their relationship have changed, but she's not entirely sure that his have, and until she is—well, better safe than sorry, as the saying goes.

He takes her to Madame Puddifoot's, a tacky and cramped tea shop that is literally drowning in pink. The place makes her claustrophobic and a little nauseous; she really, truly hates it there. She's about to tell Lysander to take her somewhere else, now, when she realizes that he doesn't seem the least perturbed by it. Does he actually… like it? Or has he just been on so many dates here that he doesn't notice the gaudiness anymore?

Either way, she's not going to like the answer, so she decides not to ask—which means, unfortunately, that they're staying.

"So, did you miss me?" he asks her once they've been seated, grinning cockily. "I bet you did."

"Lysander, it's only been three days since I last saw you." But an amused smile still crosses her face.

"I know, and I'm sorry, love. Bet you've been going through withdrawal, yeah?" She rolls her eyes. "Oh, go ahead, deny it all you like, but I know the truth. You're addicted to me."

"Shut up, Ly, and read the menu like a good boy. Do you know what you want to order?" It's a test to see how familiar he is with this place.

His eyes skim over the list of options. "Hm. What should I get: tea, pastries, or a finger sandwich? Or a little of all three?"

It's the barely-disguised disgust in his voice that has her responding, "None of the above?" If his relieved expression is any indication, it's exactly the right thing to say. "It all sounds horrible. Where's the real food?" Because she is nothing if not her father's daughter when it comes to eating habits.

"I think I might just be in love with you for saying that." She can't help a blush from stealing across her face. Merlin, what's happening to her? She's the one who's supposed to be is control. "I did not want to have to eat this shit. What do you say to a good, old-fashioned order of butterbeer and chips at the Three Broomsticks?"

"You have to ask?"

Which is how they find themselves, an hour later, in a heated discussion about—of all things—rain.

"Hate it," he says, taking a sip of butterbeer. "It gives me such a headache. My body can't handle the pressure change."

"Well, you're just a wimp, then, because I always feel fine when it rains," she teases, poking him in the arm playfully. "But, seriously, I love the rain. It's so beautiful to watch, and then sometimes there's a rainbow afterwards…" she trails off, smiling.

"That's all well and good, but what about the way it makes the ground smells and the fact that it muddies up the quidditch pitch, making a mess of us unlucky souls who have to practice there regardless of the weather conditions?"

"Quidditch again? I swear, that's all anyone cares about at this school. Well, that and shagging," she adds casually, watching Lysander choke a little on his drink. "I just don't see what's so great about flying around on broomsticks, knowing that, at any moment, you could fall and die an instant death—or, at the very least, get severe and very painful injuries. Plus, it always makes everyone in my family so crabby. We're all competitive and we're spread throughout three of the Houses, so things can get pretty nasty when we play against each other. It's so tiring trying to root for everyone at once, only to have them all get pissed off at me for it."

"Well, I can solve that. You should root for Ravenclaw because that's the team I play for. We both know that I—amazingly talented and devilishly handsome as I am—always deserve to win."

She raises an amused eyebrow. "Oh, is that right? I should forsake the House teams of my brothers and cousins for you?"

"Yes," he confirms. "You should. Girlfriends should always root for their boyfriends."

So they were officially dating now, were they? Well, fine. She could—would—root for him, if that were the case.

"C'mon, love, get on the broom."

She wonders how she could have possibly been stupid enough to tell him about her fear of flying. Of course he would try to make her overcome it. That's just the kind of guy he is, cocky enough to think that he will succeed (because there's no doubt in his mind that he will) where dozens of others have failed.

"I don't want to," she mutters petulantly, crossing her arms stubbornly. She doesn't care how much she looks and sounds like a child at the moment.

"But you do," he counters confidently, entirely at ease in telling her how she feels. "You just don't know it yet. Everyone likes flying once they master it."

"Well, I don't. It's dangerous and it hurts your butt after a few minutes and there are so many more efficient means of transport and—" He bursts out laughing, effectively ending her rant. It annoys her how amused he is, because those were perfectly rational reasons for not flying. "I don't see why you care one way or another."

"I can't date someone who's afraid to fly. It's bad for my rep," he teases. "I mean, you've got looks and the brains going for you, love, but this flying thing is a deal breaker."

She knows that he's joking, but she sniffs all the same. "Break up with me then," she challenges, raising her chin haughtily.

Lysander rolls his eyes. "You know I'm not going to do that." Of course not, she thinks nastily, because he hasn't slept with her yet, and isn't that all he really cares about? "Rose, what? Why are you giving me that look? I was just taking the mickey; I wasn't serious about it being a deal breaker."

"I'm not giving you a 'look' about that. I'm doing it because I don't want to do this," she tells him, waving her hand towards the broomstick. It's only part of the truth, but she can't exactly tell him her full reason, can she? 'I'm mad because I'm starting to really like you, and I'm still not sure if you're just in it for the shagging or not.' Yeah, that would blow over really well.

"Okay, we don't have to do it if you truly don't want to. I was only trying to make you because… well, I think you'd actually enjoy flying if you gave it an honest try."

And that right there is the reason why this whole problem has started. He can be so cocky and annoying at times, but he can be genuinely sweet at others. Is it any wonder that she's started to have strong feelings for him? Even she knows that it's only a matter of time until she falls head-over-heels in love. "Fine, I'll do it," she grudgingly agrees.

When her heart skips a few beats at the answering grin that lights up his face, it suddenly occurs to her that perhaps she already has fallen, but (for now, at least) she can't even bring herself to care.

Weeks pass by, with her falling more deeply in love with Lysander than she would have ever thought was possible. Everything is wonderful and lovely and she's never been happier in her life—until she comes across Lysander flirting with Molly, that is, and something inside of her wilts and dies.

At that moment, she hates Molly—hates her, more than she ever imagined she could hate anyone in her life—and Lysander, too, for showing an interest in her. Doesn't he have even an ounce of taste? How could he show interest in Molly when he has a girl like her?

Well, he's in for a rude surprise if he thinks she's going to take that lying down. No, she's going to give him a piece of her mind, a chewing out that he will never forget.

It takes her a few hours to track him down, as if he knows that she was on a warpath and has decided to lay low until she calms down (which, of course, he doesn't and hasn't), but she finally finds him when she goes to the Library to study, unwilling to waste anymore of her precious time looking for her arse of a boyfriend. When she catches sight of him, she immediately marches over, not bothering to greet him or to ease her way into the subject. Instead, "What were you doing with her?" Rose demands, slamming her books down next to his on the table.

He looks mystified. "I'm sorry, you'll have to be more specific. What was I doing with whom?"

"Molly." If she expects him to immediately look embarrassed or ashamed, she's disappointed. "I saw you flirting with her earlier."

"Er." He still looks nonplussed. "What?"

"You're sleeping with her again, aren't you?" she accuses. "If you ever even stopped to begin with. After all, shagging is all you care about, right?"

"I am not sleeping with Molly," he says slowly, looking at her as if she's mental. "I was talking to her earlier, but only because we're, you know, friends. And no, there's no double meaning behind that. I mean, fuck, Rose, I may be a lot of things, but a cheater isn't one of them. If I don't intend to be exclusive, you damn well better believe that the girl knows it and probably isn't exclusive either. I can't believe you'd even accuse of me of this."

"Oh, come on, she was obviously trying to seduce you, with that annoying giggle and the way she kept touching your arm. Don't you dare tell me she wasn't."

"That's just the way Molly is; she flirts with everyone. Doesn't me she was trying to sleep with me. I mean, she does the same thing to Lorcan, but Lucy's never accused him of cheating." Well, of course Lucy hasn't; she—and every other person at Hogwarts—knows that Lorcan hardly even notices other girls anymore, and if he does, definitely not in that way. But…

"Oh" She refuses to feel guilty, absolutely refuses to. If he wasn't such a… a… a manwhore in the past, none of this would have happened. The misunderstanding is all his fault, not hers. It's… Hell, who is she kidding? "Sorry."

"It's fine." Then, because she doesn't call him cocky for nothing, "You were jealous!" he suddenly accuses with relish. "Weren't you?"

"No!" she denies, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Of course not."

"Liar. It drove you crazy to see me with Molly because you want me all to yourself." She rolls her eyes, but laughs nonetheless, determined not to let him know just how close to the mark he's hit.

"Keep telling yourself that." Anger abated, she starts to take a seat, but Lysander pulls her into his lap instead. "Oof, get off me, you brute." But she snuggles in closer to him rather than pushing him away.

"Don't worry, love," he says, ignoring her flippant remark, "you do have me all to yourself." At first she thinks he's still teasing, but she's never seen him look more serious than he does now.

Her heart suddenly feels too big to fit into her chest, but it's a nice feeling. She wants to giggle giddily. "Do I?" she asks, resting her head against his chest. "Well, I wish I could say the same to you, but I was taught never to lie."

"Haha, very funny."

"I thought so." She lifts her head and looks him in the eye. "In all seriousness, though, I…" "love you" she wants to finish, but she can't because she doesn't know how he'd react if she did. "I'm all yours, too," she says instead.

It's enough for now, given the way he grins and presses his lips against hers in a long, deep, passionate kiss.

She's waiting for him when he arrives, her O.W.L results clutched in her hand. It's funny, the way things turned out, because she never would have imagined it happening on her own. It seems like just yesterday that she despised him, yet now they've grown so close that he almost seems more anxious about hearing her results than she was.

"How'd you do?" he asks, searching her face for a clue. She silently hands the packet over, giving no indication to him that his worry is unnecessary (because all but two of her grades are O's, and the others E's). She may be serious about their relationship now, but she'll never be done messing with him when the opportunity presents itself; it's far too much fun. "Shit, Rose!" he exclaims, looking quickly down the list. "Congratulations!" And he sweeps her into his arms, spinning her around in a circle until she's dizzy and breathless and almost bursting with joy. "Sorry, I've always wanted to do that."

She laughs, leaning her body comfortably against his when he finally puts her down. "It's okay, I liked it."

He grins. "I knew you would." Because he still hasn't lost his cockiness (she hopes he never does). "Well, my darling overachiever, what now? Which subjects are you going to keep?"

He sounds so involved, so interested in what most would ask only out of politeness, that she cannot help herself any longer. "I love you," she tells him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Well, obviously. How could you not?" He laughs as she hits him playfully on the shoulder. "Just kidding. Merlin, you've got one hell of an arm on you." Then, completely serious now, "I love you, too, Rose. I never thought it would happen, but I do. You know," he adds conversationally, toying with a few strands of her reddish-brown hair, "I originally asked you out just to get you in bed."

"I know." He looks surprised, as if he hadn't been completely transparent about it from the start. "And I was originally just trying to mess with you. I figured you deserved it, and since no one else was willing to do it…"

"Ah, now that attitude right there, that's why I fell for you." Then, with a wink, "So… want to go shag?" Again, she hits him on the arm. "Kidding! Kidding. Merlin, what's with all the hitting today?"

"That's what you get for being a cocky arse. Now shut up and kiss me before you say something so stupid that I'll be tempted to kill you instead."

And, really, what choice does he have but to oblige?