A/N Okay, so my studying totally failed, and after an exceptionally good day I couldn't resist writing my little sequel to Amores Sunt Amentes, so here it is. It IS a sequel to my previous oneshot, but can also be read separately, which is why it's posted separately. Also, because the rating needed to be different.

I apologise if it gets a bit confusing at the end, basically, keep in mind that there are TWO FANTASTIES, which I differentiate by calling one a fantasy and one a dream. Remember that and it will make sense.

For Mz. Raine's 'Quotes' Challenge on HPFC. Quote: If I die you can sell my organs. Though I don't recommend my heart, because it's broken.

For the real Darcey, because she's so strong that no matter what she would never behave like this one.

Never again in my life will I let myself feel like this as I watch a person's heart break. Never again will I sit, scared into utter silence, and watch the painful process, unable to do anything to stop to the hurt. Never again will I be the cause of that jagged-edged tear in a heart. Never.

But, just this once, as secret, sick, wonderful possibilities run rampant through my mind, I will do all those things. And inside, terrible person that I am, my mind will be far away from my broken friend. Inside, I will be where she was once so close to being. Where, now, she knows she'll never be.

In my imagination – because, for me, the fantasy hasn't yet been shattered – I'm with him.

We're back at the station at the end of last year, waiting silently to be picked up. His ride pulls up. It's a big car, the Mugggles call it a four-wheel drive, and it stands out from the rundown, old, rusty buses and taxis that usually block up the road. In the corner of my eye (because I'm avoiding meeting his gaze), I see him look up at the car, and know instinctively that it's his.

"Oh, sorry, that's my ride," he says. "I have to go. See you, Rosie!"

His hand touches my arm, his skin on my sleeve, and I inwardly wish that I'd worn a t-shirt instead, so I could know what it feels like to be touched by Scorpius Malfoy. I look up at him, meeting his eyes for half a moment, and then he's turned away and he's walking away and my heartbeat accelerates because (even though I've had the fantasy a million times and it always ends the same) I'm worried he's going to leave for good this time.

He reaches the street. I blink and miss seeing his muscles tense as he lifts his trunk into the car. I'm still as a stone, unable to make myself move, waiting, waiting for him to turn around and come back, still terrified that this time he won't.

Then he does.

He's coming towards me, striding briskly. Once he gets to my side, he bends down and picks up some papers that he must have dropped earlier.

"Sorry," he apologises, accidentally knocking my leg as he straightens up. "I dropped my..."

"Stuff?" I suggest.

He gives me a half-smile that almost makes me melt on the spot.

"Yeah, my stuff."

We look at each other for a minute, both waiting for the other to say something and break the silence. We both know that there's something to be said – lots to be said, really – but neither of us is willing to take that first chance. Neither of us is brave enough to say that thing that could start us along the path to something great, terrified of the consequences of rejection.

"I'd better go," he finally says, and I can hear the reluctance in his voice at having missed that chance again.

We both know how close we came, rocking there on the edge of the cliff, knowing that something fantastic lies at the bottom, but scared of getting hurt by the impact. For that reason alone, neither of us could take that tiny step to send the both of us hurtling over the edge.

Too aware of that sudden distance, such a stark contrast to the closeness that we had gotten so close to a moment ago, I can only stutter out an, "Okay," in response.

He nods.

"See you, Rosie."

He turns and takes a few steps away.

We both know it's over. We both know that, if nothing happens in the next second, then that's that. That's all we will ever get. That short, pointless conversation will be the total extent of our relationship. We also both know that neither of us is ever going to be content with just that.

"It's Rose, you know," I call, making him stop, making him wonder if maybe he was wrong. Maybe there is still more that can happen.

"What?"

I feel all my Gryffindor courage swelling up inside me, and just know that whatever I say next is going to mean something big.

Letting my voice gain a bit more power, now almost completely devoid of the shyness from before, I tell him, "My name, it's Rose, not Rosie." Then I smile coyly, wondering if seeing that smile does the same things to his heart that seeing his smile does to mine. "See you, Malfoy."

By that time my heart is hammering, because I know that I've taken that step over the cliff edge, and even if he doesn't know it yet, both of us are about to start falling.

He smiles then, and somehow I know that he knows we've jumped. Only we're not falling, like we were so worried we would. We're flying.

"It's Scorpius," he tells me. "If I'm calling you Rose, you should call me Scorpius."

I take a step forward, closer to him, knowing that this is where the true fantasy - the the stuff that not even the most extreme, unimaginable situations could force to happen - really starts, but I'm still insanely eager to begin it. I can feel the acceleration of my already sprinting heart, so hard and strong that I can sometimes kid myself into believing that this is really happening, and that the fact that everyone around us has disappeared and all I can see is him (suddenly with muscles in his arms and hair falling just so perfectly over his piercing grey eyes) is just a part of the reality of love. That this is what really does happen when two people like Scorpius and I suddenly realise that we're made for each other.

Then, before another word can be said or another imagined thought can go through my head, my eyes are closed and my lips and tingling with the feeling of his against them. His kiss is soft and tender and gentle, slightly cautious because we both know that it's the start of something big. I kiss him back, taking equal care not to be too much or too little or too demanding or forceful. I want to be perfect for him. I want him to think that, in that moment, I am perfect.

Slowly, we pull away, my eyes staying closed because it's all just too much to fully comprehend.

"Okay," I say, in answer to everything unsaid. "Okay."

I open my eyes just in time to see him smile again, and just from that I can tell that my message got through. I was perfect enough for him.

That realisation makes my heart leap and my mind go blank, and before I quite know what's happening, my hand is engulfed by his and we're over by the street and I'm getting into his car. I let him help me up into the back seat, closing the door behind me, satisfied by the resounding bang it makes as it shuts out the outside world. Inside it's silent – there's no driver, no noise of the traffic outside, no prying eyes of broken friends with broken hearts. Only us, alone, surrounded by the new-car smell of leather and pine-scented air-freshener, the back seat of his huge car just begging to be used.

His hand is still holding mine and he pulls me closer to him, my side pressed against his. Wordlessly, his other hand reaches up to my face, touching my cheek with a spark of electricity and settling on my neck. I turn to face him, the one part of my mind that's still aware of how fake this entire scene is knowing with painful predictability everything that will happen next, but nonetheless excited for it to start. Still smiling, he leans down to bring his lips to mine again, making fireworks go off behind my closed eyes.

I eagerly accept his kiss, startled and thrilled at the new intensity of it. His hand squeezes my neck, fingers combing through my unnaturally dark hair. My hand that isn't still clutching his moves to his arm, touching his elbow then sliding up to his shoulder and down to rest on his chest. Through his plain shirt I can feel the humming of his heart, beating as erratically and fast as mine.

The fantasy begins to fade then, leading on to things that I know nothing about. Hidden moments in the backseats of cars aren't exactly things that I have a lot of experience with. My eyes have been open the whole time, staring blankly at Darcey's crying form, but as I slowly emerge from the vision, I am once again confronted by the sad sight of a broken-hearted girl. She's still crying, the others surrounding her, wishing they could help but completely unable to fix the damage that Scorpius has done.

"I hate him," she sobs; the words of a pathetic, shattered girl piercing even the most secret corners of my mind. "I hate him."

Penny shoots a nervous glance at me, begging for help. You know what to do, she's saying with her eyes, you know how to make her better.

I want to shake my head. I want to be ashamed of the fantasy that's now replaying, more vividly than ever before, in my mind. I want to not be able to help, to not know exactly what to say, to not be torn so greatly between what Darcey needs from me and what my heart so greatly desires.

But I'm not that strong.

I concede to Penny's pleading stare and stand, shaking the fantasy from my mind, just for now, not having to worry that it won't return later. Kneeling beside Darcey, I take her hand, making her eyes move up to meet mine. For just a second I let myself look into those eyes, knowing that through them I can see her soul, every crushed remnant of her heart.

"You don't hate him, Darcey," I tell her. "You just hate that he doesn't love you."

She shakes her head.

"No," she says. "I just hate that he loves you more."

And I wake up, knowing that the whole dream is finally over.

Darcey still has dibs on Scorpius. Scorpius still keeps his feelings to himself. I'm still waiting for his 'soon' to come.

The cruelty of reality is back, locking me in my cell of pain.

To my left there is Darcey, broken-hearted and alone, hating me for loving Scorpius more than I should. To my right there is Scorpius, smiling his wonderful smile, my friend tucked comfortably under his arm, my heart slowly tearing for every second that they are together. Behind me there is nothing, years lived in hiding and denial, just waiting, hoping for fate to intervene and give me the future that I want. And ahead... ahead of me the path is blank. I don't know what moving forward will bring. All I know is that I can't move any other way.

So I step out of my cell, into the world, wondering if, somewhere ahead on the road, there's a clearing from the darkness of the woods. A clearing big enough for Darcey, Penny, Scorpius and me to all stand in together, with me tucked comfortably under Scorpius's arm and Darcey and Penny grinning, happy for my happiness.

Forcing the dreams and fantasies away, I take that first step, knowing I'm heading towards the cliff-edge.

But maybe, just maybe, I hope, when I get there I won't fall. Maybe I'll fly.