All of a sudden I have become oddly obsessed with Roxanne Weasley (daughter of Angelina and George.) This is the first story/poem/thing I've written about her, but it will probably not be the last. Or maybe it will. WHO KNOWS.

you're a r e b e l, roxanne weasley,

because who else can you be?


can't look less like a Weasley,

with darkdarkdark skin

glimmering green eyes (no, they're NOT from uncle harry)

those green eyes are a mystery

mum traced them back once, through years&years of Johnsons,

told you they were from your Great Aunt Mary

but you think they're your own, thanks very much

and that black hair, with rebellious turquoise streaks


can't act less like a Weasley,

hates to fly, instead you dance

Slytherin Princess through&through

and not only that she's

- shock-horror-alert-the-presses -


(because Weasleys aren't bloody allowed to say, yes, aunt mildred, that dress DOES make you look fat, or mow over first years in the hallway or laugh at people's mistakes, no Weasleys have to be nice ALL THE BLOODY TIME)

and you, roxanne, you don't particularly enjoy being nice,

it takes too much effort,

too much screwing your teeth up and lying to salvage feelings, heck NO you're too lazy

it's not that she's mean, she's a bit blunt..

nah, you're mean.


because you weren't born with the gene that tells people how to be kind to others,

bit like your uncle ron, except tentimesworse

and you're not loyal and you're cunning&sly

and you're rude, too, and worst of all you don't like Uncle Harry,

and when your dad is killed by stray Death Eaters when you're seven

when you were just beginning your differences

you blame him

because you loved your dad, loved him with all your soul

and Death Eater wouldn't come after your family, wouldn't crash through your seventh birthday party

if harry wasn't there..


so you HATE harry potter;

you look MORE like a johnson then a weasley,

you're sly and cunning and disloyal and mean

and no one no one no one in that whole family likes you at all.


so that's why i'm a rebel see.

it's because it's expected of me.

i'm a slytherin, after all.

so i dye my hair turquoise, i dance instead of flying,

i sneer at innocent first years, scorn those foolish gryffindors,

and i try to fill empty holes with hate.


wanna know a secret?


it's not working.