Dedication: To my friends at the Sober Universe for corrupting/inspiring me to write a something different.

A/N: I first wrote this for the smrw_ficafest on lj but after some deliberation, and helpful advice from my awesome friend who happens to be a mod, I decided to write something else however this story is possibly one of the favourite things I've ever written and I'm rather in awe of it, so up it goes. Millions of thanks to respitechristopher for a fantastic beta job and helping me out so much.

I:

Scorpius' mother always told him he could choose what sort of person he wanted to be. That his father's history, his father's expectations, did not define him. She was gone now but her words had always stayed with him.

"Your family has done some terrible things, but you have all sorts of potential in you, you can choose which path to follow; which traits to strengthen and which to try and change."

He'd done just that; dredged up every last scrap of ambition his Slytherin heritage had given him, to cultivate his cool appraising look that showed no sign of his heart existing but hinted at his willingness to do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted.

And Scorpius Malfoy had wanted Rose Weasley. There had been no rhyme or reason to the tug of longing that had appeared as suddenly as the new depth to his voice and his unexpected height. They'd been fifteen and seemed complete opposites. Since day one of their first year; she had the entire school wrapped tightly around her finger. Moving up from friendly First Year to perfect Prefect (and would go on to be Head Girl); she was top of her class in every subject. She knew everyone and everything. She was a Ravenclaw to his Slytherin. She was friendly and open while he was withdrawn and aloof but he'd wanted her never the less and Scorpius always got what he wanted.

He'd never had time to put his forming plan into action however because two days later Rose had dragged him out of the Great Hall at dinner and proceeded to inform him that she wanted him and he'd better bloody well get used to it because Rose Weasley always got what she wanted. It was the first of many similarities he would notice between them.

She'd surprised him, but after a moment he'd realized he had no reason to be so. She was a perfect example that you aren't always what your parents make you. He'd always felt special; she'd chosen him to show her other side, her true self. To let him in past the act, to trust and to love. It was an act he admired, and found incredibly sexy. She was ruthless, cunning and exceptionally bright, she fought tooth and nail to get what she wanted, and for some lucky reason she'd wanted him as much as he needed her.

He'd do anything for her, had done many things for her. Given up things, taken away things. He knew without a doubt he was the person he was today because of her. Sometimes, he thinks he chose to be that way just so he'd be her perfect fit. That he'd known unconsciously all those years ago that, one day, Rose Weasley would be there, exactly the way she was, and he needed to be shaped to her. After that day outside the Great Hall they became two halves of a whole. They didn't spend every moment together, not in the literal sense, he still had his projects and she had her prefect duties and her social responsibilities. But he always knew exactly where to find her, and she him. There was always time.

He catches her eye from the alcove he's standing in and holds up two fingers. She nods quickly and turns to her patrol partner, who is walking determinedly ahead, oblivious to Scorpius' presence. He loves watching her work. Loves knowing she lets him see her put the charming smile in place because she knows what it does to him, before she tugs on the Gryffindor's arm.

"Thomas, I think I heard something." She looks over at a broom closet two doors down. A pathetic smile breaks across his face, as he heads toward it. Rose rolls her eyes as she glances back at Scorpius; Thomas loves reprimanding those who break curfew. Moments later two rather startled looking third years, one in green, one in blue are dragged into the corridor. Rose swiftly steps forward before the lecture can begin.

"How about you escort young Marcus back to his dorm, I'll take Candance."

"Thanks Rose," Candance says, sighing with relief as Thomas drags the hapless boy away. She then frowns slightly. "Scorpius was sure nobody would be patrolling this corridor."

Scorpius watches with pride as his Rose smoothes things down, gives explanations without seeming to, spinning such convincing lies that Scorpius himself almost believes her, despite knowing the truth. It wouldn't be productive to have someone with Candance Fancott's connections annoyed with him. She appears satisfied, promises Rose to return to her common room immediately and heads off.

Rose turns and smiles his favourite kind of smile, slow, dangerous, one she saves only for him.

"Enjoy that?" she asks sliding into his arms, and he murmurs confirmation into her hair, he always enjoys her. His lips find her neck, taking advantage of her momentary distraction.

"Okay, enough. We have work to do," she reminds him, and he reluctantly agrees. He keeps as much of her in his arms as he can manage while they walk. It's the way it is with them.

"Do you suppose the idiot will ever figure out why this is such a regular occurrence?" It is a question he has asked often before, on other nights such as these, he only asks because he loves the conversation that follows.

"He gets what he wants, sees what he wants and assumes he is clever enough to be the one who gets what he wants."

"He's a fool."

"He's one of the masses." Rose shrugs, "It's natural for them. They are all the same, granted some are slightly better than others. Some a thousand times worse. But they're all part of the crowd. They have no idea about anything. That's why they are so easy to manipulate." She looks up to meet the hungry gaze she knows is there. "They aren't like us."

They reach the Room of Requirement. "They all take everything on face value. Never look as deep as they need too."

"It's why we're here, and they aren't." he says as Rose mutters the ancient words they chose to guard the door, while straightening her shirt. With a smirk he tugs it crooked again and she rolls her eyes as they step inside. The room has everything they need for their planning, for their projects, for a short escape. It had taken them only a few months to work out how to get the room running again, after realizing neither had accepted the story of its complete ruin though firefiend. The room couldn't change itself to fit their need –It had been an empty, broken space but the magic foundation had been strong and they had moulded it, formed it and protected it with the most powerful spells and magic they could find. Now it was a haven, their special place.

They walked hand in hand without a backward glance. Unlike the other seventh years whose time at Hogwarts came to an end, there were no tears, or at least no real ones. It had been a place they had lived but all sentimental attachment was tied up in each other. Its use had ended and so they moved on. Together.

They'd been together for almost six years, surprising Hogwarts, then the world. They were a unit. One nobody but them understood. He didn't mind her being the front person of their pair. The one everyone saw and admired. He didn't mind people wondering exactly what Scorpius Malfoy had done to deserve such a paragon. He knew as well as she did, she wouldn't have gotten as far as she had without him, or at least, not as quickly. He knew they fed each other, inspired, and drove each other. Everything he did was for her first and him second. He also knew there were distinct advantages to being in the background. He was free to carry out the more…radical side of their plans while Rose wooed the world. She portrayed her perfect image without a hitch and though some had been surprised she accepted her apprenticeship at Ollivander's instead of the numerous Ministry offers, she'd been ecstatic to be so close to so much knowledge of power.

Their families had been surprised when they'd moved in together; they'd seemed to be holding on to the hope that it was all just some temporary fling, some teenage experiment. But it hadn't been, Scorpius never even thought of thinking about another girl, it never bothered him Rose was the only person he'd ever been with. He knew her better than he knew himself, knew her every ambition and her deepest desires, he knew them and they mirrored his own.

He remembered the day she left Ollivander's, accepting one of the continued offers from the Department of Mysteries. She's moved from job to job, moving when she'd learnt what she'd intended, moving on up she called it. And still no one suspected she wasn't the golden girl the world saw. Only he saw the delicious darkness in her eyes when they talked of long hidden magic he'd discovered on his various trips and expeditions, or the secrets she'd stolen from the Ministry late at night. Only he understood the longing in her gaze when he'd finally brought her to his family home and taken her to the library. They thought they saw a love of books, of knowledge but he knew it was a longing, of knowledge yes but also of power. He knew she saw, like he did now, the potential of the ancient tomes, of the dark secrets they could hold.

He shows them to her, the secrets his ancestors kept hidden, most unaware of the potential amongst their collection. He watches her pour over them, darting from one to the other, staying just long enough to file away an impression for future references. Bundles of letters, thick scrolls or leather bound books, they range from before the first Malfoy was even recorded to material his own grandfather gathered. He himself reads as well, but sporadically, this is not all new to him and watching her gives him great enjoyment. The way she flips her hair over her shoulder when too much has fallen into her vision is familiar, as is every change in her eyes. He watches them darken in excitement or narrow in annoyance. Every now and then those eyes rise to meet his and there is such a charge of energy between them that they both have to stop for a moment. When he feels she has seen enough he drags her into his lap and while hands are busy exploring, they talk of power.

He wakes, still sitting in the armchair, Rose wrapped around him, fast asleep. He wonders what his parent thought, if they had come in and seen. A cursory glance tells him they would have seen nothing but scene any parent might see when their son's girlfriend stayed over, and mentally praises Rose's foresight in banishing last nights reading material back to their original places. She is stirring; those large brown eyes blink up at him, clouded by sleep. He loves watching her wake, see the sleep vanish as acute awareness comes into her eyes, to see her mentally process the entire situation and decide to let him in. It takes all of a second and he knows its instinct. The corners of her mouth turn up in an excruciatingly slow smile as she looks at him and he never wants to wake up without her again.

While his parents are absent, Scorpius lets Rose back in the library. She picks a large scroll dating back to 1240 and curls up in his armchair. He sits at her feet with one of his grandfather's books. Silence hangs in the room, while both are fully absorbed in their reading. It is a warm comfortable silence, broken intermittently by observations

"Riddle wasn't exactly original," Rose says as she finishes, stretching her arms above her head. One of her legs is hooked over his shoulder, the other drawn up to her chin. His hand runs absently up and down her calf, and he doesn't hear her at first. She repeats herself, something she hates to do for anyone but him.

"No. He was weak," he can practically hear Rose smirk as he says it and she informs him with a hint of scorn that he sounds like her family. "He didn't understand the power of love," she mimics.

"Got something against love?" he asks, sliding his hand a little higher. She drops the scroll near his feet and slips down into his lap but ignores his question. An answer isn't necessary.

"He didn't understand that power comes from everything. From everywhere, I guess Uncle Harry is kind of right when he says Riddle underestimated things he didn't understand. Those things were all sources of power."

"Also he had a very small-minded approach toward what he did with the power he did have."

"Oh I know." Rose shudders, "it positively infuriates me."

Scorpius thinks she's sexy when infuriated; he tells her and earns a smouldering look that has his skin jumping. "He did not deserve to be preserved in history like he has been."

"They rarely do."

She rolls her eye, "Merlin for example."

The fact she thinks she's above even the Great Merlin himself tugs at his heart and he pulls her even closer, their foreheads touching. Her fierce gaze holds his adoring one.

"We'll do better," she says and he believes her. Together, how could they not?

Now he was back in that same room, in the home where he started out putting the last of a plan into action. He heard the owl knock at the window, vaguely surprised at the unfamiliar bird and let it in; careful to cover the more delicate of the books he was working with. He untied the scrap of paper at the birds led and it few away, out the window without a seconds pause. His heart stopped and for the first time since that first, heated kiss with Rose six years ago he felt fear.

On the parchment a single sentence was scrawled.

She is using Amortentia.

Part 2 will be along shortly. Please review.