II:
Rose's mother always insisted she was more than just the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, that she was her own person, that she could chose her own path, no matter what sort of stupid expectations Ron pretended to have. Rose believed her.
She was Rose Weasley, she had her mother's intelligence, her father's stubbornness and an overriding ambition all of her own. The Sorting Hat had tried to put her in Slytherin but that didn't fit Rose's plan, and the Hat couldn't deny her Ravenclaw when she insisted.
Rose was good at insisting, using whatever tools necessary to gain her objective and somehow without giving the impression of manipulation. Rose always got what she wanted, exactly the way she wanted, and then one day she wanted Scorpius Malfoy. It had happened all of a sudden as she was walking out of Potions and he was walking in. It was the first time his cool grey eyes met her warm brown ones. Her heart had pounded, as if yearning to reach for his.
He wasn't part of her plan, too intelligent to be content to stand on the sidelines of her success, and he wasn't someone content to live her life and not his own but the yearning in her quickly readjusted that. Two days later, after some deliberation, she'd confronted him at dinner and discovered her other half, it didn't matter that he had his own plans, his own way of succeeding. They fit so perfectly with hers, she sometimes wondered if they were even separate people.
She'd been made for him she was sure. Fate had seen him as a small perfect baby and created Rose, just for him. His devotion to her was a constant thrill, one she treasured close to her heart. Once they were together Rose believed in soul mates. She believed in finding the exact right person at the exact right time. He was not what she'd thought he was before the moment of want. He was so much better, they complimented each other, he was her strength, the one she knew she could trust completely, and in return he trusted her. He told her of his own ideas, ones she herself had thought, and ones completely new and exciting. He was mysterious and dangerous, he let her in, let her see behind the cold mask. He held her close as though he wanted nothing more than her touch for eternity. He would have that and so much more. They would be together forever, and nothing would be able to stop them.
They spent their years at Hogwarts entwined in each other and that didn't change after leaving, even when he was away in far off places gathering information or experimenting with his special projects. She could feel him, while she was working on her front and he on his; he had connections in the dark underside of the magical community she could only lust after, yet he was never sucked into it.
They were above it. Above it all. Above her beloved, heroic family that shone through the Wizarding World.
He is in the middle of a conversation with the CEO of Blakehurst Industries when she walks in. He feels her presence before he sees her, standing tall, a diamond among coal, a pearl among the swine. He watches Rose make her way through the crowd, bee lining for those they'd deemed 'important', a captivating on her face as she deflected unwanted conversation without batting an eyelid. Inwardly he smirked, those brushed aside seemed far from resentful. Rose always left the exact impression she wished to. He forces himself not to be distracted by the way her long, black evening gown emphasizes the perfection of her curves. She wouldn't be pleased if he allowed himself to lose an offer like the one he is receiving. Vivian Blakehurst-Harrinton is enthralled by him; he has spent the last twenty minutes making sure of it. A job Blakehurst Industries would provide him with ample travel opportunities and connections that would makes working for such a tedious lady worthwhile.
"…Once your year at school is finished, you must come and see me. We would be thrilled to have you on board." She was trilling. He smiles disarmingly, "you'll be sure to hear from me, it sounds like a fascinating opportunity."
"There's one thing…"she falters slightly, then leans forward, "It is a company with, well significant investment in the muggle world." He follows the involuntary flutter of her gaze and sees his father, making polite small talk with two of his mother's colleagues. Internally he sighs, wearied by such predictable behaviour. Externally he meets her gaze squarely, informs her it will not be in the least bit a problem for him and heads in the direction of Rose, leaving her to inform whoever was handy how admirable it was, that the young Malfoy has such determination to not stray down the path his father had.
As he approaches Rose he marvels, he has seen a few people he recognizes from Hogwarts, Rose does not look like a schoolgirl. She is confidant, engaging and has wrapped every person tightly round her little finger. He slides a possessive arm around her waist when he reaches her and she turns her head to smile at him, it's a coy little smile, one that conveys meaning on several different levels. Some secret meant just for him, some for those watching, to create the right impressions. She excuses herself from the group she was charming and they head in the vague direction of the drinks. "Right timing?"
"I was done. I'll be getting several one-in-a-life time offers before school is over."
"Already got one." He smirks at her as she nudges him with her elbow, and rolls her eyes but she is pleased, he can tell. Her eyes say tell him everything as she asks, "Blakehurst?"
He nods, "How'd it go at Diagon yesterday?"
"Perfectly." It's her turn to smirk, and he pulls her closer, he is about to whisper in her ear when something catches his eye. "Parents staring," he informs her quietly.
"Well they knew you'd be here and still insisted I come, "
"You argued?"
"Of course not. That would've set us back a few months at least."
He acknowledges the truth of this, "should we keep circulating?"
"Together this time." He raises an eyebrow.
"I can't stand not seeing you for so long." He draws her hand through his arm, and they head over to his parents. He understands. Putting up with his family at Christmas, without her, is agonizing. But it was necessary. They both knew it, that their seventh year could not be like their fifth or sixth, with every holiday curled up in the room. The various expectations of their parents now they were seventeen must be met. The prospects that open for them were far too important to be indulgent but it did not make separation easier. As much as Hogwarts itself bores him, he cannot wait to be back there with her. With his Rose.
He doesn't want to leave without her but his parents collect him, despite having become of age he must go along with them for now. She assures him that she too will leave soon, will owl him straight away. As he Apparates home, he is almost overwhelmed by longing, by the looming week before he will see her again. He smiles for his parents, tells them of his accomplishment, in surprised, honoured tones and they are proud, though obviously hurt he did not confide his ambition in them. As he lies in bed, drifting in and out of thought, he imagines just how they'd react if they knew his true ambitions. He finally falls into a deep sleep, the smirk still etched on his face.
People were surprised that she would attach herself to someone with a family history like Scorpius Malfoy, but many saw it as a touching romance, Romeo and Juliet style. Scorpius was portrayed as misunderstood and burdened by his family name. It was an image they cultivated. One that amused them in private, when they were curled up, planning, or just talking, just loving. She loved the fact he needed her as much as she needed him, that neither of them would be anywhere near where they were if it wasn't for the other. Together their ideas took on a new sheen, shiny and enthralling. All the more exciting because they were in it together. Their plans bloomed into something that filled Rose with tingling anticipation.
They suffer through their family obligations together. Her family did their duty and accepted Scorpius after some grumbling about his father. His welcomed her with open arms; well aware the world was watching. Eventually it became natural, if somewhat tedious, to spend Sunday evening at either the Weasleys or the Malfoys, enjoying the secret knowledge of the thoughts behind each other's smiles. Her father had asked her, half desperately, just before she moved out if she didn't want to maybe try out a few other blokes before settling on a Malfoy. The very thought had her stomach churning and her lungs burning. The look on her face burnt down the last of her father's resistance to her relationship with Scorpius.
She moves up and learns and shares with him, as he does with her. He shares his travel stories as he goes from Egypt, to Syria to Poland to Bulgaria to Mongolia and Peru, with thousands of stops along the way. He makes sure to never stay away for more that two weeks but those two weeks are hell just knowing how far away his. Even though she can feel him, even though he writes and even though what he brings back is invaluable she hates his absence. Being back in his arms after two weeks apart is the best feeling in the world. He shows her things that she only ever dreamed of, things whose existence she could only hope of, yet she'd give it up if he asked her to. She's glad he is as thrilled by it as she is. That he understands her thirst for power, for knowledge, for secrets because it is his thirst too.
They share a flat in the decent part of London. It's far from perfect; they'd both prefer more space, less neighbours. Particularly the nosy, shrill women two doors down who seems to think of them as dear friends. But it's what's needed for this stage, so they endure. It's harder for Rose, she's always there, while Scorpius is off on his work trips. She hates his work because it takes him away from her, but she likes the results and results matter. So he keeps travelling, returning to fascinate her with his stories and acquisitions.
This trip is the longest they've been apart and sometimes she feels like each day without him is cutting into her, restricting her breathing. She can hardly sleep most nights knowing he is on the other side of the world and won't be coming to bed. As she walks up the stairwell all this is tucked down in her heart, all her thinking and feelings must be put aside for the moment. It's been a productive day, though she is nearing the point where she would have all she need from old Ollivander. Moving up would require a little extra effort on her part, a little less confidant Rose, a little more flutter, remind them she was still only eighteen, play the young women who's still finding herself card. Ollivander won't buy it. She knows that, but it doesn't matter, she has fascinated him since she bought her wand eight years ago. It's enough for him to want to see what she'd achieve. All thoughts fly from her mind as she opens the door and finds Scorpius standing in their living room. Waiting for her. The door slams behind her and she's gathered up, held tightly, pressed against it. She revels in the feel of him, his lips brush hers gently before his hands come up to frame her face and they stare at each other. She reads longing, and love in his eyes and know they mirror hers.
"I have a present for you." He informs her eventually, picking her up and carrying her to the sofa, she loves how he refuses to relinquish his hold on her any more than he has too. Instead of the tacky shell jewellery or souvenirs sarongs that she knows his colleagues would have bought during the stay in New Caledonia, she is presented with a small wooden carving, she can feel it whisper of power and she knows she will find it fascinating just as soon as she's finished showing Scorpius how much she loves him.
"Thought you'd like it," he smirks; she curls up against him, examining it carefully. "A Kanak shaman made it for me. Oppressed natives are often very powerful in their way."
She sets it carefully on the small coffee table and leans against him, an invitation for the story she's seen in his eyes since he gave her the present.
"The Kanak people had very interesting ideas on death magicks, at least before the French came along and colonized. Some still practice it, but I had to go quite deep into the jungle to find them."
"You always do." She is proud that such a man is hers. He is the promise of all that can be, all that will be.
"I think I truly did this time." There is excitement in his voice and he draws something out of the bag by his feet. Her eyes widen at the large volume he has extracted. If power whispered out of the carving it positively exploded from this book. Carefully she sets it on her lap and opens the worn leather binding. It is a book of native 'magiques ancienne', magic that as dark as it is ancient. It's written in an unknown language but one influenced enough by French for her to work out the ideas it's exploring. She cannot even begin to name the feelings she experiences welling inside her as she read. Mounting anticipation adds an excited fluttering in her stomach to the usually head thudding yearning she feels around him. She feels shivers of possibilities crawling over her skin. If she feels anymore she will explode with the thrill and burn of wanting, of having and of imagining. He has finally found something they've both been waiting for. The foundation all their plans can be built on.
Now here she is, curled up in the bed he slept in as a child. His parents are gone, she enjoys being mistress of such are magnificent house, one which has known such power. Not for several generations to be sure, but it would know it again. She shivered in delight at the thought. Then pressed her hand to her stomach. The shiny new engagement ring glinting on her finger. It is for the benefit of everyone else. They have always known they were engaged, from the first time his hand found hers. A vaguely familiar owl taps at the window, she rose, reached out and untied the parchment attached to its leg and closed the window. Her brow narrowed in confusion, her heart thudding, as she read words.
He is using Amortentia.