DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Okay. Another Harry Potter oneshot. This time, it's Rose/Scorpius, because I always had a thing for Draco/Hermione, but Ron/Hermione always overpowered that, so S/Ro is like my second chance. :] This fic is kind of random and I hope it's not too terrible. I wrote it in the same hour, but it goes from perverted to bickering to cheesy to sneaky really quickly. I hope you like it.

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THEY LONG TO BE

The distinct slam of the library door echoes through the empty room, signaling the exit of the last student, leaving me with no one but—since God seems to despise me—Scorpius Malfoy. The ancient librarian chooses now, out of all the times I've prayed for her to leave me alone, to mysteriously disappear and leave me with not only a jerk, but the biggest jerk of them all. Oh, I should've taken Lily or Hugo or Albus or even James with me, even if James could compete with Scorpius for King of Jerks.

Of course, Malfoy only leaves me with a few minutes of peace before swaggering over to my table, that annoying smirk on his face and his dirty-blonde hair in such perfect disarray that it could have only been on purpose. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the great Rosaline Weasley. How on Earth could I have been so lucky to have such a gorgeous girl with me… all alone… in a nice, dark room, with no adult supervision. You know, there are a lot of different uses for tables, m'dear…"

Ever the polite, calm and gentle lady, I reply with a, "Go to Hell, pervert," and a sneer before turning my nose back to the books.

"My, my, my. Someone's a bit feisty today, now? Perhaps… that could be cured with a night out under the stars? You, me, Hogsmeade, this weekend? How 'bout it, Rosie?"

I sigh and cross her arms, tapping my foot against the carpeted floor. My eyes scrolled across the paragraphs of my book—I was reading Hogwarts, A History, for the fourth time; my mum was right, it was a good read—taking in as many words as I could before feeling complied to respond to the boy in front of me. Finally, a cough sounded from Scorpius' exasperated face, and I turn back to him, trying not to lose myself in his hazel eyes. "Look, Scorpius," his face brightens when I use his name; it always sent him some kind of sick pleasure when I didn't refer to him as "Malfoy", or "ass", or the occasion "perverted goddamned pain in the arse." "You've asked me out—how many times now, two-hundred and three?" I ask, not expecting a reply. But when it comes to Scorpius Malfoy, you often get things you don't really want.

"One-hundred and ninety-six, actually." He responds, his eyes shamefully downcast, and I shoot him a look. "Yes, I counted, alright. I'm masochistic."

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and face him again. "Whatever—so you've asked me on a date nearly two-hundred times. Look, if I never said yes those other times, then what makes you think I'll say yes now, Malfoy?" It was just my imagination when his eyes dulled then, right?

"I dunno, Rosie. I guess I'm just a little too hopeful for my own good." He says in this dejected whisper that sinks my heart so deep, I nearly submit to his constant pleadings.

Trying to lighten the mood, I scold with a, "Only my friends call me Rosie, Malfoy. You may only refer to me as Rose." But it only manages to darken him further. Curse my parents for making me inherit both their awkward conversation skills.

His eyes flick up to meet mine. How come I never noticed those tiny flecks of emerald green against the sheer chocolate brown that resembled the ones pooled in my eyes, almost like the hopeful moon lighting up the darkest night? And the blue, waving around, like the ocean that I'd spent the summer holidays in with the Potters. Why did the gray suddenly pop with a dull intensity, an unfeeling black replacing the brightness of the other colors? "We're not… We're nothing, Rose." I try to ignore the tightening in my chest when he calls me Rose.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice, which was strong and monotone in my mind, only came out as a weakened whisper now. "I don't understand, Scorpius."

He bites his lip. I try not to notice the blood that floods out and onto his tongue, which he nonchalantly licks away. "You'll never let me be a boyfriend to you; won't give me a chance as a lover. I'll never be family and you won't even let me try to be a friend. I want you, Rosaline Evelina Weasley, and you'll never know that because you won't give me a damn chance." His eyes are flickering on and off, as though there's a candle burning in his mind and it's waiting to see if someone's blow is big enough to knock them down. He's waiting for me to answer, waiting for me to either break him or make him. "Please." God. I don't even know what he's pleading for. I don't even know what I'm pleading for.

"Scorpius…" I murmur, not knowing how to respond. "I… I…"

He raises a finger, and despite my mum's strong beliefs in feminism that she single-handedly injected into me as soon as I could talk, I oblige, closing my mouth. "Rosaline Evalina. You know… that's a beautiful name, Rosie."

I shake my head in protest. "They clash. My dad picked my middle name when he didn't know what my mum was picking as my first. They don't sound nice together. Not like Roxanne Elizabeth, or Dominique Pierrette. My name… it's horrible."

"No, it's not," he insists, and the insisting look in his eyes almost makes me believe him. "Lillian, it's too common. Dominique, too flashy. Rosaline… perfection. It's beautiful; I can say your name over and over again and never tire. It's perfect. Everything about you… you're perfect."

"Stop it, Malfoy," I choke out, and the tears that fill my eyes are unnerving. I don't like to cry. I don't cry. I'm not crying.

His thumb stretches out and wipes away a tear that's escaped the comfort of my plain brown eyes. "You know what my middle name is?" I shake my head, speechless. "Lucius. Scorpius Lucius Malfoy. Lucius is my grandfather—he was a Death Eater. Your father's Ron Weasley, he's obviously told you about that generation, right?" I nod meekly, my mind torn to his story. "He was for Voldemort, through and through. Tried to restart another dark era after the Voldemort's death; they locked him up in Azkaban and he died there, gone mad. My family—the Malfoys—are bad. We've got a history. An evil one. By the Dark Lord's side since the beginning; my father was almost doomed to the same fate as every one of my ancestors, my grandparents. It's tragic, almost. And I would have thought that I would have been just like them, evil and worthless; nothing but scum that will be flicked off someone's shoulder. But you made me realize that there's something else to live for."

My eyes narrow, boring into his own. "We're only fourth years." I warn, and he nods. "If you hurt me in any way, I've got Hugo, Albus, Louis, Fred, and James—who I know you loathe. I'll even get Teddy Lupin if my heart's broken, and he's got a terrific right hook and does a great Furnunculus curse." He grins, sure of himself. "Well… you do the honors, Malfoy."

He gets on his knees, wand out and eyes shining, and even now Scorpius Lucius Malfoy never fails to shock me. "Rosaline Evelina Weasley, oh gorgeous and intelligent lady, will thou please grace me with your fine presence at the corner booth in the Three Broomsticks on Saturday when we go to Hogsmeade, m'lady-eth?"

I can't hide the smile that paints itself onto my face, and I didn't really want to anyway. "You stink at speaking 15th century English, but I'll be willing to grace you with my presence on Saturday, anyway, Scorpius." The pink that flushes onto my cheeks doesn't bother me, and gladly, it doesn't bother him either.

"That's great, see you there babe." He begins to walk to the door and it's too early for me to register anything. "Oh, and wear your red robes, the really short ones." He winks and rakes his eyes over my body, which I promptly cover modestly with Hogwarts, A History, which is big enough to nearly entirely block me. "I love those." He waves and blows an arrogant kiss, opening the door for a confused librarian, and then slamming the door closed.

"Are you alright?" She croaks, maternal instinct flooding her raspy voice. "Dear, what's happened?"

I swallow hard, grabbing my bag and stuffing my books into it, ready to head to the Ravenclaw common room. "I think I've set myself up with Scorpius Malfoy, the big jerk." I groan, beginning to walk towards the door.

"Oh, that boy's a pain, good luck with him." The librarian calls out just before I reach the opening.

I smirk and blow a kiss to her before slamming the door shut, imitating Scorpius, leaving the librarian with a strange look contorting her expression.

What? I didn't say I didn't intend to get that date. Scorpius isn't the only sneaky one around here.