Alright, so this took long enough to write.

MAJOR CHEERS TO CONSUELO (sarahbrasil) B/C A) SHE HELPED ME WITH THE STORY'S MAIN IDEA AND B) SHE'S AWESOME.

That said.

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended. All belongs to J.K. Rowling.

I'm seeing you sinking
I'm standing alone
You're weighing the gold
I'm watching you sinking
Fools gold

Stone Roses – 'Fools gold'


4. G R E E D

It was late, the common room had been packed as usual, and everyone had made it their duty to interrogate her about the Malfoy business. It was absolutely no wonder Rose Weasley found herself attempting to study in library instead of inside her own house at nine o'clock in the evening. If only she hadn't forgotten to bring that Herbology essay to work on (its deadline was in two days, after all), she could've done something useful instead of simply gazing at her Charms textbook like a bloody illiterate person. The issue was that she found herself simply unable to focus.

She was just a little too busy marvelling at her own idiocy.

Apparently intelligence didn't necessarily equal common sense.

Because – really, for what good, sensible reason had she slept with Scorpius Malfoy?

There were exactly two options and none of them were exceptionally sensible. The first explanation she'd come up with had been one logically evolving from of her then-current state – hung over enough to possibly kill herself (until she'd managed to snag Louis' excellent hang over potion anyway). She had thus initially blamed the... lapse of judgement... on the Firewhiskey and vowed not to indulge herself into that certain behaviour ever again (knowing very well promises as those were usually in vain). When Malfoy had managed to turn her denial about their involvement invalid, this was also what she told the people who asked her about it.

He took advantage of me. He got me drunk and used me and I, innocence personified, was unwittingly lured into his trap.

She of course couldn't imply that he'd raped her (because, well, he clearly hadn't), but after that cowardly stunt he'd pulled on her, the least she could do was leading people to believe she was repelled by him.

Which, sadly, she wasn't.

That led her to the second explanation – one she wasn't nearly as fond of. What if it wasn't just the liquor? She had an inkling suspicion it had been a little more than that. The whole occurrence couldn't exclusively be written off to something as simple as booze. Aside from the obvious (her reputation), something rather indefinable had changed as well. That something indefinable inside her had been twisted and altered and modified and maybe even improved, because whenever the memory of his lips on hers and his hands on wherever they weren't supposed to be, a warm feeling crept up her spine and she unwillingly flushed, and it made her feel sort of good.

But then – she thought now, a few hours after she'd practically ambushed Scorpius – was that a change, really? Hadn't she been always secretly attracted to him, as corny and stupid and above all, wrong that may sound? She couldn't... like... fancy him or anything, could she?

No, she decided, staring at the book in front of her. He was the world's biggest prick and the list of his negative character traits, not to mention his family name, easily outweighed the redeeming ones. If one and one equalled two, Scorpius and Rose equalled Error.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Lysander and her? They made sense. Perfect sense, even. More-than-perfect, ideal, happy and shiny sense. Scorpius and her? Not so much. She needed logic. She thrived on it. She breathed it. It reigned over her world – it was her religion, her philosophy. Logic was the king to her queen – and, damn it, maybe that was something she and Scorpius actually had in common, because, now she thought about it, he always seemed painfully rational as well.

Although, seriously, she still loathed him. Especially after this morning.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Her heart skipped a beat and she almost fell out of her chair.

"Oh for the love of – " she started off, clutching her chest with one hand. Then she saw who so cleverly snuck up on her and her face fell. "Eh, hi."

There was the sandy-haired wizard she'd come to know so well – fumbling at his Ravenclaw tie (typical quirk of his), eyes clear and blue and big and honest, looking at her with a rather disgruntled glint in them. She swallowed slightly as the situation presented itself, cursing inwardly because this was exactly what she'd been avoiding for the past few days – Confrontation Time ringing at her door.

"Sorry," Lysander muttered, clearing his throat, "It's just that I haven't had the chance to talk to you since..."

It bothered her that he seemed awkward and wouldn't utter the words out loud, but not nearly enough to screw him over and say them herself. She wasn't mean – at least not to anyone who didn't deserve it. And boy, did Lysander Scamander ever not deserve it.

"Yeah, I know," she offered a small smile, unease starting to bottle up already.

He sat down next to her in a swift movement and sighed, "You've been evading me."

"I did not," she replied on automatic response.

Of course she had. What could she tell him? Surely he'd heard the rumours! Was there a living or even a non-living soul in this whole wide castle who hadn't?

"So is it true?"

Her head snapped up. His question thickened the air while she thought she might choke on guilt any minute. The firm expression on his face screamed at her not to lie and yet his sagged shoulders told her she should – because he loved her, he'd said that, time and time and time again, like a broken record, when she broke up with him last Friday, and he wouldn't be able to handle it if she'd really slept with Malfoy. She knew he'd be messed up worse than he already was... and the fact that she'd caused this kind of raw distress?

It made her feel like shit.

It made her feel like the worst person on the entire planet... and that spot was reserved for the likes of, well, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Black,... Scorpius Malfoy perhaps... But not her. Certainly not her.

"I'll take your silence for an apparent answer," he mumbled, after she'd failed to answer, "I know you. I can read you like a book."

She wanted to tell him that if he'd known her so well, he would've made sure not to bore her, but she bit her tongue. "I don't know what to say."

Then something peculiar happened. His nervous yet calm demeanour snapped and the Boy Incapable Of Anger exploded with his cheeks flushed in sudden fury – something she'd never ever experienced with him. She'd seen him annoyed, she'd seen him unhappy, but she'd never actually seen him throw a punch, shout or hex someone.

"Well, damn you, Rose!" He bellowed. "How could you do that to me?"

This is crazy, she thought. "I don't know!" And then, against her better judgement, "I didn't cheat on you – we were broken up!"

She primly closed her book while he stood up from his chair and roughly pushed it away. "I can't believe you! Why Malfoy of all people? Didn't you hate him?"

I never hated him, she thought.

"I don't know!" She repeated. "I'm sorry!"

"You always know everything and now you don't?" He yelled, still with the increased volume.

"No, I don't!"

"Well, start thinking of something!"

She stared at him. Then, in a little voice at last, "I wanted to enjoy my freedom."

Then it was over as suddenly as it started.

His face slowly reverted back to its natural, slightly tanned colour as he returned her stare. His breathing was evened again when he spoke up, "Thanks. At least I have something to work with now."

It had a bitter edge to it, but she supposed it was better than the outrage from two seconds ago. "I'm sorry. I mean it."

"I know you do," he sighed, taking back his seat. "You wouldn't be Rose Weasley if you weren't."

It was only for his sake that she nodded, "That's right."

"I still love you, you know," he stated, holding her eye. "Even after..."

Once again he couldn't say and once again that bothered her. It didn't contain her from feeling a tinge of regret however, as the wizard next to her had been her boyfriend for more than two years for a reason. She knew very well that if only she waited long enough, she'd start to miss him and his oh so light-hearted, tranquil antics.

Too bad she was never one for patience.

"Let's not... dive into that right now, okay?" she tried evasively.

He didn't respond but the disappointment was blatantly obvious. She went for another angle, "Take a book and we'll just... read. Like we did before."

At the mention of 'before' he finally somewhat-smiled, to her great relief.

And thus, they read.

Like before.

"What are you doing here?"

She'd come back from the library to the Ravenclaw common room with Lysander by her side but only had to return after she'd noticed her essay wasn't there either. To her great frustration it hadn't been lying around in the library, and to her even greater frustration, when she came back for the second time Malfoy was waiting for her at the beginning of the tightly winding spiral staircase that led to her house, leaning against the wall and blocking the passage with such typical arrogance and grace it made her want to vomit her brains out.

Or not her brains, but still.

"I have a preposition for you."

Everything that came out of his mouth was twisted, she realised – syllables in a tangled web of honeysweet deception and cold straightforward honesty.

"I don't want to hear it," she hissed.

She tried to pass him by, but with the reflexes of a Seeker his arm shot out to cut off the entrance completely. Last time she'd caught him off guard, this time he was the one ahead – two steps, to be precise. Her hip brushed against his for a nanosecond, but she decided to spare the fact that she'd noticed no thought.

"Surely you don't," came his sarcastic voice, "being as informed as you are."

She glared at him stonily. "Let me rephrase myself. I don't care about hearing it."

It didn't faze him. At all. "How would you like to be convinced?" Then, when she wanted to grab her wand to blast the hell out of him, he whispered, "Accio wand."

She attempted a non-verbal spell, but it seemed that he knew how to block those as well.

"Fuck you," she spat, half in bafflement and half out of spite.

"Gladly," he smirked back, cocking a blond eyebrow.

Tapping her foot, she encircled his wrist with her fingers and tried to pull his hand off the wall. He merely watched in amusement as he was obviously stronger than her, making her scowl in enervation. "Let. Me. Through!"

"Perhaps," he drawled, finally stepping aside, "this will interest you more."

She was already four steps up before she, in the corner of her eye, saw what the miserable excuse for a human being was holding.

"My essay!" she gasped, reaching for it only to have her access denied.

"Not so easy there, Rose..."

She whirled towards him. "What do you want?"

"One night with you, that's all," he said, with the essay behind his back. The implications of his proposal were crystal as daylight, rooting her to the spot. The memory of the ecstasy she'd felt... because of him... shuddered through her and she cast her gaze downwards for one moment, not willing to let herself get lost again.

"Never," she shook her head, determinate. "I've got another day. I can rewrite it, easily."

Without a last glance she turned and walked up the stairs. She was around the first corner when she realised he still had her wand, and on top of that he said loudly, "I'm not sold out yet, Rose!"

Thinking of her wand she descended again.

"An essay didn't do the trick?" Malfoy's smirk expanded by a mile. "What about this?"

He took a book out of leather bag and waved it in the air. She recognised the title immediately, but the cover was a tad different than the one of the same book she owned. A special edition, she thought, looking at the sleek, hard front, golden words engraved and moving.

"Magical Objects And Its Origins," she cited, almost breathlessly, "Where did you find that edition?"

It was her bloody favourite book!

"Australia, sixty-five galleons," he said simply. "Worth every Sickle. It's got extra pages with extra secretive information... And if you want, it's all yours..."

Her personal library would sing to her if she brought this home. Her mother would adore her, Louis would lick her heels, and she herself would be forever euphoric to possess this piece of exclusive non-fiction.

But to what price? Her dignity? She'd have to sell her soul to the devil!

Yet she'd already done that, hadn't she?

"You can't buy me like that, Malfoy," she muttered, feeling like child who didn't receive any Christmas presents. "I'm not a whore."

He took a step closer to her. "Of course you aren't."

To his credit he sounded fairly serious. On the other hand, the proximity he'd created suggested a different thing – he thought he could just waltz into her every day happenings and have an actual place in it by blackmailing her into sex. If that wasn't fucked up then she didn't know what the hell it was.

"I'm not done," he halted her third attempt to move up. "And I promise you this is gold."

Her curiosity was peaked against her own will – because, really, the essay and book had been extraordinarily alluring enticements, so if he had something better in store...

"Although," he continued as she looked at him from over her shoulder, "you have to swear secrecy once I've shown you. No matter how much I... like you, I'll still have to hex in you to death when you're asleep."

The threat didn't sound too empty, she observed. If anything, Rose Weasley was very much capable of holding a secret. In fact, she loved them. "Spill it."

"Not in public, you idiot," he said as if talking to a two-year-old. She was extremely exasperated at that, but gave in and pointed her finger to the left.

"There's a cupboard over there," she said, wondering if the uncertainty was showing on her face. She knew the hidden meaning behind the word 'cupboard' in this school, but she brushed it off bravely and she walked towards it. She would never duck into a cupboard with him for those purposes, now would she?

Not even unconsciously.

"Trust me," he tittered from behind her, "I know."

She rolled her eyes as she opened the door and crawled in. She sat with her arms around her bent legs, hearing the other boy murmuring a quiet 'Lumos' after creeping in as well. He closed the cupboard's door after moving into the same position as her, her feet between his due to a lack of space. His smell mingled with the original dull one and overwhelmed her in the same way it had when she'd been drunk out of her mind, and she tried not to breathe for two seconds, for she hoped that would cause the tingling in her stomach to pass. He looked at her from above the his alit wand, a misleading warmth glowing in his otherwise metal-grey eyes. She marvelled at his aesthetic beauty for a fleeting moment and then pinched herself to snap out of it.

"You charmed the lock, right?" she asked.

She was a Ravenclaw, after all. She wasn't reckless – at least not when she was sober.

"Oh no, I fancy a detention or five with Filch, don't you?" said Malfoy mockingly.

"You having five detentions with Filch?" she snapped back. "Yeah, I do fancy that."

This time he was the one to roll his eyes. "Whatever. Still interested in my little gadget or do you prefer proceeding to... the more physical matters immediately and skip the foreplay altogether?"

"Just..." she groaned in irritation, "get on with it. The gadget, I mean."

To her surprise he actually did. Reaching into his bag once again, he pulled out a box in a rectangle form that was obviously very expensive. He used her wand to mutter a few spells (some sort of password, she guessed) and the box clicked open with a subtle sound. She leaned forward slightly as her curiosity once again got the best of her – it bubbled up in her guts and soon became unbearable. She didn't want to come off too eager, but as she saw a rather esurient expression marring the wizard's pretty features, she whispered excitedly, "Come on, Malfoy. What's in it?"

Then he carefully held up the object in the box.

She gasped loudly.

She inhaled and exhaled and her heart felt like it had invented a whole new rhythm.

"That has to be fake."

He shook his head.

Glittering in the light of the flame from the wand, beautifully enhanced by sapphire, was a necklace that ended in a small locket. It dangled from his hands and if it was real, Rose was sure it had no business being there – this object wasn't meant for Scorpius Malfoy. It wasn't meant for any Malfoy at all.

"How did you get that?"

"It's been in my family for decades," he explained, "it went down from Malfoy wife to Malfoy wife... It's currently my grandmother's, until my grandfather dies. Then it's my mother's."

Could it be...?

"Well, why would it be in your family?"

"Rose," he said tightly, not very taken in by her obvious dislike for his family, "we all know the Wizarding world consists of a bunch of morons. There are very few who'd realise the worth of what is currently in my hand. I assume one of my ancestors bought it somewhere – in a story, on a market. I don't know."

"So how do you know it's real?"

He offered the object to her. "I just do. You'll know what I mean once you've held it."

She took it and felt a soft rush running through her veins. She observed its details with a growing hunger for its power – a hunger mirrored in Malfoy's gaze.

"I can't believe it," she managed to bring out eventually. "This is... I mean, it's... Rowena's Locket. Malfoy, that's – "

"I know," he agreed. "It's insane. I've seen you reading that book quite often and rightfully deducted you'd know about this."

She nodded, barely visible. "So what's the bargain?"

She didn't even look at him – she was too transfixed on the ancient magic in front of her.

"You know what it can do, right?" he asked, to be sure. When she nodded again, he went on, "You know the way to get it?"

"Of course," she said quietly.

The jolt of excitement was consuming. It swiftly crossed her mind that it was once again Scorpius Malfoy who'd indirectly induced this feeling, making her mouth run dry.

"The one night I'll have with you," he said, "is the one night you'll have with this. I'll give you your essay and the book too, if you like."

He sounded... almost nice.

But then it hit her what this meant. She couldn't refuse. She couldn't – this was worth it. The exhilaration that the object brought to her paired with the thought of... touching him again, would've made her knees buckle if she'd been standing straight. Luckily she wasn't and therefore, she maintained her posture.

"Tomorrow night."

He opened the door without another word, checked if the coast was clear, climbed out of the cupboard and even went as far as extending his hand to help her up. She was almost dizzy with the amount of tension inside, but grabbed his hand and rose herself in front of him. He was so nearby he looked down upon her hair and she faced his chin. Raising her head, they locked eyes and Scorpius calmly but strongly stated, "Tomorrow night."

Without turning around he sauntered away from her.

"Don't leave me hanging, Malfoy. You're asking a lot from me," she pleaded while he was still within earshot.

"I won't," he came to a standstill. "And, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you think I expect from you?"

What...?

"Oh, you know, Malfoy!"

"I never directly said I wanted to shag you, Rose," he snickered. "I already have, after all."

Strangely enough, she felt a blow in her stomach. "Then what...?"

"It was your company and help I requested."

And by that he did turn around.

She stared after him.

She was dazed like she'd just read a book of a thousand pages she couldn't understand.

So hmm, what does the locket do, you reckon?

Please review, dear readers.

Until next time
Josephine