a/n: Fiftieth fic, finally. Instead of RosePeeta as I'd originally planned (that's going to be one of my next fics), I decided to write my Next-Generation OTP, RoseScorpius. I've come a long way since my first fic, and I'm glad to see my writing style/quality has evolved a lot. I hope to continue changing and growing as I write, and I hope I'll continue to improve.

disclaimer: j.k. rowling ©


Wednesday, November 28th, 2022.
Gryffindor, Sixth Year, Girl's Dorm.

Oh, Lord, I've gone absolutely, horrifically, mad! Well, I've always been quite barmy, I suppose. Mum says I get it from Great Aunt Muriel, and Dad always starts laughing like a loon whenever she says this, so I'm thinking I get it from Dad instead. Dunno, really. These are the private woes of a teenaged girl, so I'm telling you this in confidence. Confidence, you hear? Well, not hear, because you're a diary and obviously you can't hear, but you know what I mean. God. Stop looking at me that way.

Anyway, I realise I've finally gone bonkers, because guess what.

I fancy Scorpius Malfoy.

I mean, where the bloody hell did that come from? I was just sitting there this morning, quietly enjoying my bowl of cereal with orange juice (I'm aware how disgusting it sounds, but honestly, once you try it, it is quite possibly the most addictive breakfast combination ever to be created since bagels and peanut butter. No, really.) when I looked up, and there he was.

Just sitting there, Henrietta Hawking (what a ridiculous name, I know!) hanging off of his arm as per usual, and he quietly chatting with his mates about Quidditch, or something of the sort. You know. As per usual.

But there was something different about him, I swear. Or maybe it was the way the light reflected off of his platinum blond head that made me think he was sparkling. Or something of the sort.

Yes, that's probably what caught my eye. Not fancying him or anything, that's quite absurd. I mean, we dislike each other very strongly, so I doubt that shouting matches (that involve me turning red-faced and blotchy while he stays infuriatingly calm and Prince of Cool-like) translate to I fancy you like mad; let's go snog in a nearby classroom.

I mean, probably not. Though the vixen side of me says otherwise…

Sincerely,
Rose, the Maddest Bird of Them All.
Except Not.

Friday, November 30th, 2022.
Gryffindor 6
th Year Girl's Dorm.

Well, I suppose that settles it. I absolutely do not, under any circumstances, fancy Scorpius Malfoy. Stupid, arrogant little swot.

I'm so angry I think I want to go take a shower. Maybe that'll get rid of the permanently residing blotches in my cheeks, which are, might I add, not at all attractive.

Rose, I-Hate-Scorpius-Malfoy-With-All-Of-My-Being
(And-These-Blotches-Really-Aren't-Helping-Whatsoever)

Still Friday, November 30th, 2022 – after showering.
Same.

Okay, so that made me feel better. Sort of. The blotchiness is gone, anyway. I should probably stop thinking about the state of my cheeks and start telling you what happened. (Just so you know, Diary-in-which-I-Confide-Only-My-Deepest-Darkest-Secrets, I would be just telling Albus all of this, but since he's friends with The Malfoy, it probably wouldn't be the best idea on my part.)

Speaking of Albus, where is he? I swore I saw him in the corridor earlier when I was screechi—er, politely scolding The Malfoy, so where on Earth did he run off to?

Maybe I should just be telling Lily all of this. I mean, she's a great friend and she's always been wonderful at keeping secrets, anyway.

…Sorry about that water I just spit out all over you, Diary. I was too busy laughing at my own wit (Lily, secrets? Ha!) to notice I'd just taken a large sip from the water bottle. How does one go about forgetting these things, I don't know. But I do forget, always, so I'm not even sure.

Maybe it's the water that makes me forget these things. It must be spiked. Or maybe it's just my incredibly witty self that keeps me from remembering such petty things like don't drink water and then laugh, because it will lead to certain secret-keeping diaries getting soaked.

But I digress. What was I talking about, again? Hold on, reading back.

Oh, right, The Malfoy! (By the way, D, you like my new added flair to his last name? It used to just be Malfoy, and now it's The Malfoy. Adds a bit of spice, don't you agree?)

Anyway, do you know exactly what he did today, Diary? You know what horrible thing he had inflicted upon me today? You know what incredibly annoying, horrifying, disgusting thing he did?

He bloody well

Still Friday, still November 30th, 2022.
Still the same.

Sorry, Lily stormed into the Gryffindor-Girl's Dormitory all Slytherin and angry-like, and then she made me teach her a complicated hex that will undoubtedly be used by her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Cayden Rosier. If you ask me, Albert – his brother – is much lovelier and the boy's head over heels for Lily, anyway – but y'know. No one ever asks poor, wretched, lonely, anti-social Rosie.

But that's all okay, Diary, because I have you! (said a depressed Rose Weasley in a falsely cheerful tone. Psh.)

Anyway, what Malfoy did today…Well – oh, Lord, this infuriates me so much, I can barely write the words down without my hand shaking in undiluted anger. He – well, he –

He bloody told me I dropped my books today!

Oh, now I'm all angry again. Fantastic. Let me recount the story quickly, because I think the blotchiness of my cheeks is starting to come back, like a vaguely irritating sunburn that won't leave my poor, freckled cheeks alone, and I need to go to the loo to splash my face with cold water before it starts to spread. Ugh. Cripes.

I was walking. Obviously. In the corridor. And I was just walking, oh-so pleasantly, smiling slightly because I'd had a great morning (fantastic one, really, but that's all gone out the window.) The lovely house elves decided to put some extra orange juice on the end of the Gryffindor table (which is where I sit) so that morning I'd indulged myself in cereal-with-orange-juice for God knows how long, and then I went up to my dorms, got my bag and all those things that go inside it – books, I think they're called – (Haha, no. That was a joke. Oh, God, I hope no one ever reads this bloody thing.) and I headed to the Potions dungeons with a grin on my face.

So yeah, anyway, I was walking along with this silly sort of smile, just enjoying everything – the rainy day didn't deter me from my incessantly cheerful mood – and all of a sudden, I tripped on a rock and my bag fell to the floor, books spilling onto the tiles.

Okay. So maybe I didn't trip on a rock. Maybe it was my own feet.

But whatever, okay? I don't have to prove myself to you. Geez. I see that look you're giving me.

So there I was, books on the floor, and for a second my mind went unpleasantly blank as Scorpius Malfoy , smirking at Henrietta Hawking, strolled into the corridor. I remember thinking a mild string of curses (which by the way, are way too rude and vulgar to say in here. I still have some dignity, you know.) and then I remember him looking down at me, face all snotty and holier-than-thou, and then he said – these are the exact words –

"Weasley, you dropped your books, you clumsy, bumbling, oaf of a person."

God, he infuriates me!

Rose, who only hates Scorpius Malfoy even more now.

And Still Friday, still November 30th, five minutes later.
Same.

Okay, so maybe I exaggerated. But only a tiny bit.

I mean, he didn't really say I was a clumsy, bumbling, oaf of a person. I bet he was thinking it, though! Under that innocent, unassuming mask, he was definitely thinking it!

Clearly.

Maybe I should ask Lily. My frazzled mind obviously cannot handle thinking objectively.

Rose, who will go ask Lily for her opinion on Malfoy's comments.

Still Friday-But-Almost-Saturday, November 30th, 2022.
Gryffindor 6
th Year Girl's Dorm.

It took me awhile to find Lily, but when I did, she was snogging the lights out of Cayden Rosier. I'm guessing they made up. Obviously, this was a very important issue, so I saw it in myself to pry her off – though it did take a couple of Stinging Hexes on Cayden's – well, let's just say it wasn't easy, and I don't think Lily's sex drive is very appreciative of me at the moment.

When I finally got her off, though, and casted a Protego between us so she wouldn't murder me, our conversation went something like this:

"Lily, Malfoy told me I dropped my books in the corridor earlier today."

"Fantastic."

"Do you think he was thinking that I was a clumsy, bumbling, oaf of a person?"

"I don't know."

"Lily, will you help me out here?"

"Rose, will you stop cockblocking me?"

"Absolutely not, it's in my nature to cockblock!"

"That's an American term, you know."

"I know. So do you think Malfoy hates me, or do you think it was just a comment?"

"Yes."

"What?"

And then she promptly walked away, probably to go snog Cayden again. She was no help at all, and gosh, I don't even know-maybe-I'm-thinking-too-much-I-don't-know-or-care-after-that-I'm-going-to-bed, overthinking-tires-people-out-very-easily-you-know.

Lord.

Rose, it is almost midnight and I'm too tired of thinking to function.

Saturday, December 1st, 2022 – Later.
Gryffindor Common Room (I don't even know why Lily is here. Who gave her the password again?)

God forbid I ever speak to Lily Potter ever again. Or Albus Potter, for that matter. In fact, I think James is my favorite Potter as of right now. And he's never anyone's favorite, much less mine.

They're horrible, all of them. I don't know how Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny managed to birth spawns of the devil.

I see you reading over my shoulder, Lily. I see you. And guess what? I HATE YOU. Yeah, that's right, you are a horrible slaggy human being that does not deserve to –

Ouch.

Bitch.

(Stop hitting me!)

I'm never going to get to tell you what happened. Lily is always preventing me from writing in you, Diary. You must blame her for your complete lack of use, and all the blank pages I have yet to write in.

(I'm going to try and get away from Lily now, Diary – I'll be back –

Lily, stop hitting me!

-R.W.

Saturday, December 1st, 2022 – Even Later.
Great Hall/Corridor.

I finally got away from Lily. I managed to distract her by shouting Look! Cayden! and then running as fast as I could in the other direction – which wasn't very fast, by the way, considering I was limping. Stupid screwed up knee.

Anyway, Lord only knows how she fell for that one.

And now I'm locked up in the greenhouses – Herbology is Lily's least favourite subject, so surely she won't think to look here.

So today. The events that happened today.

I was at breakfast, all mope-y and grump-like because apparently, the kitchen was out of orange juice (Honestly, how is this even possible? I'm the only one who drinks it!). And they were serving pumpkin juice again – which I loathe.

Eurgh.

"Hi, Lily," I said monotonously to her as she strolled over to me, face mischievous. I should've known from that moment that she was going to ruin my morning even more! I don't know how I completely missed that smirk on her face – Albus, after all, wore the same one every day.

"No more orange juice today?" she said cheerfully, grabbing my pathetic substitution – milk, pah – and downing it in one go.

"Shut up."

"Oh, well, you're in a chipper mood today," Lily rolled her eyes, sniffing at me disdainfully. "You should be thanking me."

"Why," I said, poking at the omelet, sitting untouched on my plate. I blew my fringe out of my eyes and grunted.

"Because I told Scorpius Malfoy you fancy him," she said proudly, "and Albus was there and he completely supported the notion. He even added in a little bit about you wanting to shag him."

Mind you, Diary, I'm fairly slow in the mornings without my needed dose of orange juice and cereal, so don't judge when I say I didn't react for another ten-or-twenty-seconds.

But when I finally did, I exploded. I'm not kidding. I was holding my wand at the time – not too clear on why I was holding it, but – and sparks started flying everywhere and it might've been pretty IF I WASN'T JUST ABOUT TO KILL LILY AND ALBUS POTTER.

I jumped up, knee banging into the table, and face going red (and blotchy again. Maybe I should see a Healer about this.)

I screeched a loud, "What!" and the entirety of the Great Hall turned to look at me. Thank Merlin it was only a couple of people, because no one but the insane get up early on Saturday mornings, apparently.

I was so angry I couldn't even see anything. Or maybe that was due to the fact the omelet had landed on my face whilst I was having my meltdown.

Lily tried to placate me, telling me it was alright, that he fancied me too or something (psh), and then I turned and looked at her and gave her my best Engorgio, right smack dab in the middle of her forehead.

So ha. That's what you get, Lily. Karma's a bitch.

Lily's forehead automatically started swelling up, and she ran to the Hospital Wing, leaving me to deal with Albus.

I turned toward the Slytherin table, but Albus was already gone. Silly Slytherin boy. We're best friends, you don't think I'll know where you'll go?

Yeah. Apparently I didn't. I walked around the castle for ages and ages, checking empty classrooms and broom cupboards and lavatories, but he wasn't anywhere! All I found were a couple of shady-looking Fourth Years lurking around the dungeons, and they were no help.

Maybe I'll go try and find him again now. It's almost lunchtime, and Albus surely would not decline food!

Am I brilliant, or what?

Rose, you're so clever.

Why, thank you, Diary!

You're also completely mad.

Shut up.

Rose, who is off to find her cousin/best friend,
the boy being more the former than the latter as of right now.

Saturday, December 1st, 2022 – After Lunch.
Gryff. 6
th Year Girl's Dorm.

He wasn't there. Go on. Laugh.

Apparently I don't know my best friend at all. Being friends with Albus Potter is more complicated than you think.

Oh, and Lily tried to assault me in the Hall, but thank my lucky stars, Albert Rosier decided to distract her by going, I need to tell you something, and all.

I love that boy. If he wasn't madly in love with my cousin, I think I'd marry him. You know, if he wasn't totally awkward around me all the time.

Rose, who has decided, screw her cousins, Albert's much better.

Saturday, December 1st, 2022 – Afternoon.
Gryffindor Sixth Year Girl's Dorm.

Well, I have successfully ignored Lily for one full day. Which is no easy feat, especially when Lily's persistent – which she definitely is now. I take it she's forgiven me for the engorged forehead, considering she stopped trying to hex me in the middle of dinner yesterday.

Though that may have been because Cayden Rosier distracted her with his tongue.

But anyway, now she's only trying to yell miscellaneous things at me down the hallways and up the Girl's Dormitory stairs and such. (I've charmed the Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory's stairs not to let anyone redheaded and with the last name of Potter up. Suck on that, Lily.)

She keeps saying to listen to her or something, but I am not after she told Scorpius Malfoy I fancied him.

Speaking of The Malfoy, I have yet to straighten things out with him. Maybe I should go do that now. I think maybe I'll don James' Invisibility Cloak (which he lent to me very conveniently a couple of days ago) and go find him.

And maybe I'll find Albus, too.

MISSION: Find The Malfoy and explain that I do not fancy him. At all. Find and kill Albus Potter.

Rose, James Sirius Potter is my new favorite cousin.

Saturday, December 1st, 2022 – After Dinner.
Random Corridor.

TIME: 9:48 PM.
MISSION STATUS: Incomplete.

Alright, maybe I got a little sidetracked. I kind of bumped into Albert in the hallway, and we exchanged 'hello's, and then I might've said a little something about Lily, and then he may have blushed, and – well, I'll just tell you what happened.

"Hello, Albert," I said to the boy walking in the opposite direction of me in the hallway, swiveling my head this way and that in case an Albus Potter or The Malfoy decided to show up out of nowhere.

He replied back uncomfortably, "Hi, Rose," and then he started to shuffle away awkwardly.

"I know you love Lily!" my mouth seemed to be disconnected from my brain, because it was definitely thinking for itself, spewing out these things I wasn't supposed to admit I knew, ever.

He blushed, stuttered out a, "I, uh, I don't fancy Lily; she's, um, just my best friend is all. Nothing more. Just platonic friends. Platonic." And then he blushed some more.

Albert, you're more obvious than a Christmas card during Easter. Love, you need to learn the Art of Lying, by the Queen of Lying herself – Rose Weasley, Liar Extraordinaire. Except not really, because when I lie, I get the Horrendous Blotches. In fact, The Blotches seem to appear everywhere, whether I'm angry or embarrassed or happy.

I really must go see a Healer about this.

Actually, I'm not too sure why Albert's so horrid at lying; he hangs around Lily a lot, after all. Her lying skills haven't rubbed off on him in the slightest? I mean, I find that a tad hard to believe.

Pah. Lily must work on that. I'll be sure to tell her that when I'm done ignoring her.

Anyway –

"Albert, I know you love Lily." He blushed for another couple of moments before –

"Am I really that obvious?" he asked all embarrassedly and adorable and such, and seriously, I probably would've kissed him if I weren't all for friendship and loyalty and all that. It's absolutely horrid sometimes – having morals, that is.

If I didn't have morals, I'd probably be slagging it up everywhere. Not such a terrible idea, hm.

"Yes," I said blatantly. (Shut up, Diary. I'm not known for tact, y'know. Seem to have inherited that from my dad.) He blushed again. This boy needed to work on his social skills as well. He's really getting too awkward to function.

"Er," he ventured a little nervously, "well, what do you reckon I should do?"

"I say snog her," I joked, but apparently he took me seriously and looked terrified for a moment. "Kidding!"

He looked relieved. Inwardly, I told myself not to make any more of my jokes. Obviously it wasn't at that point in our friendship that he would get my jokes.

"But you should tell her," I blurted, "just in a not-as-snoggish way, because you're obviously not ready for that yet."

Oh, gosh. I hoped that didn't sound mean.

"Er, right," he replied, scratching the back of his neck, "…how do I go about doing that?"

Oh, in the name of all that is Holy. Dear God, please help this boy. But since God won't do, I supposed my girlish demeanor and skills at matchmaking would suffice, for the time being.

But seriously, for their relationship to work, I think we'd really need to call in some Otherworldly Forces. This boy is as awkward as a Pygmy Puff standing in the midst of a bevy of Hungarian Horntails.

"You just kind of…say it?" I replied, sounding confused. "How else would you do it?"

He blushed. Again. "Doesn't it have to, er, be – romantic, though? Isn't that how you girls want us to do it?"

I blinked. Either Albert Rosier was really in touch with his feminine side, or he'd been hanging around Cupid a lot.

I'm guessing the former.

But seriously, how did he know all of this? No teenaged boys I knew know how to woo a woman. I think if Lily rejects him, I'll take him for my own. I think it'd be nice, having a sweet boy around…

He took my silence as me rejecting his idea.

"Or I could just tell her, um, that'd be alright too," he said, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

Okay, at this point, I was sure of three things.

One, Albert really needed to learn some social skills.

Two, what the bloody hell is wrong with Lily?

Three, I was really craving some orange juice.

"No, no, no, it's a great idea – what were you planning on doing?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound too enthusiastic. I checked the time.

Drat! It was almost quarter before ten, therefore meaning I'd led The Malfoy into believing I was hopelessly infatuated with him for another fifteen minutes.

Hopefully by the time I got there, he wouldn't be so disgusted as to try and hex me or do something drastic of the sort.

Albert hadn't said anything yet except for a couple of stutters and another blush, which I took to my advantage.

"Look, Albert, you just think of some new ideas! Maybe you could consider getting her some cereal with orange juice! Yeah, that's a good idea!" I looked at the time again. Why was I wasting my time getting Lily and Albert together again?

Oh, right. Because I'm a "good" friend.

Pah. Shove it, morals. I've got things to do and people to yell at.

"But – cereal and orange juice? But – that's disgusting!"

…Well then, Albert. I don't need your opinion.

"Alright, bye!"

And then I sprinted off. I heard vague calls for help behind me, but really, Albert, good chap, I'm sure you're perfectly capable of coming up with girlish, romantic ideas on your own. Put that feminine side into good use!

I really must be finding the pair of them. Unfortunately, a run in with Henrietta Hawking is almost always inevitable in this sort of situation.

Now that, I'm not looking forward to.

TIME: 10:00 PM.
MISSION STATUS: On my way!

Rose, Albert Rosier really needs relationship advice,
and some social skills to boot.

Saturday (well, really Sunday), December 1st (2nd), 2022 – Past Midnight.
Gryffindor Girl's Dorm.

TIME: 1:31 AM.
MISSION STATUS: Complete, and added frustration as a bonus.

Oh, that fucking annoying, cruel, nasty, disgusting asshole! That stinking, slimy, Slytherin bloody fucking idiot!

And now Henrietta is here (did I mention she's a Gryffindor as well? No? Well, she is. Bloody unfortunately.), sneering some odd thing. I honestly don't even know; I'm angry at everything, and crying, and I hate Malfoy so much –

Why, Otherworldly Forces, why must you make me suffer?

Stinking asshole. God, I'm too tired to form coherent words right now; I think I'll be off to bed. I'll tell you in the morning.

-R.W.

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – Morning.
Same.

THINGS ROSE WEASLEY HATES:
Pumpkin juice
Scorpius Malfoy
Albus Potter
Henrietta Hawking
Friends
People
The World
Everything
Did I mention Scorpius Malfoy?
Or how about Scorpius Malfoy?
Or how about 'wankers', which is synonymous to Scorpius Malfoy?

-R, I hate everyone.
Shower time.

Same – After Shower.
Same.

Well, last night was a waste of my time, and a bloody humiliating waste of my time, to put it at that. I hate him.

Clearly it was an irrational decision of mine to decide I didn't need any friends outside of my cousins. Albus is still avoiding me, and Lily's started ignoring me right back – even though I really need to talk to her.

You'd think Lily would listen while I'm spewing out the crisis that happened yesterday, but no, she just went back to snogging Cayden like I wasn't there.

Maybe it was a bad idea to ignore her for so long. I probably should've been the better person, as karma is a flighty bitch.

Do you reckon Albert would ditch Lily for me? I mean, he'd be a good friend… just a really awkward one is all. And I suppose that wouldn't be too bad; I could probably bully him into getting me some more cereal and orange juice.

Shut up, Morals. You never said bullying wasn't allowed.

It's absolutely horrid sometimes, being morally sound and all. Really rather inconvenient.

I should probably start explaining the events that occurred the night before. As it was, I was rushing off to find the pair of them after running into Albert (you already know this part of the story), when I reached the Slytherin dungeons – and that's when I realised I had no bloody clue what the password was.

And that was when it all went downhill.

Awkwardly shuffling my feet and attempting to mutter random passwords at the entrance did not go very well, as the passwords I guessed ("Bloody Baron", "Muggleborns are stupid", and "Purebloods are the best") were probably not the most accurate.

Eventually, another Slytherin Sixth Year came around, and lucky me, (this is sarcasm, by the way; I realise how hard it is to convey sarcasm through a Diary) it happened to be a boy.

A hormonal boy.

Needless to say, it didn't work out too well when I stood there, pleading to him and all the while tugging on my skirt, due to the fact he kept leering at my legs.

Lord. He needed to get some. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be from me.

Eventually, at some point forty-five minutes later, I realised this method wasn't working, and that maybe I would have to switch tactics, take some drastic measures.

Some drastic, slaggy measures.

"Hey," I winked suddenly, moving closer to the boy until there wasn't much space between us at all. He leered again, and I swear, this boy had to be really desperate to want me. I looked absolutely horrifying, even more than usual because I was sweaty and The Blotches had decided (very unfortunately) to attack my face again. "So…you have a girlfriend?"

Oh, God. I sounded like Henrietta Hawking searching for her new prey.

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know…" his hands roamed on my hips, and if I wasn't so desperate to straighten things out with The Malfoy, I would've hexed him and been on my way.

"Alright," I replied as coquettishly as I could manage without vomiting all over him. It sounded more like a dying cat getting repeatedly run over by a car, but I guess it worked, because the boy agreed rather enthusiastically.

And that's when it went even more downhill.

Because before the boy could mutter the password and I could dash away…

He'd leaned down and kissed me. And to make things worse, the entrance suddenly opened and there stood a blond boy.

A freakishly blond boy. A freakishly, platinum blond boy, and the one that I happened to be looking for at that very moment.

Yes, Diary. Rose Weasley is now proclaimed unluckiest person in the whole bloody world.

You think it can't get any worse? I was snogging a boy whose breath reeked of meat and other "manly" sort of things, Scorpius Malfoy was watching, and I still hadn't straightened things out with him yet.

It was pretty bad, yes.

…And then Malfoy – whose expression had morphed from neutral to angry and scary-like in three seconds flat – grabbed the boy's shoulder (I have now learned that his name was Milbert Macmillan, which is almost as equally ridiculous as Henrietta Hawking), pushed him against the wall, and punched him square in the jaw-slash-nose area.

Repeatedly.

As I stood there and flailed like a fish out of water.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy!" I screeched over the loud noise of fist hitting flesh, cracks resounding in the empty dungeons, because no matter how creepy and downright dirty this boy was, I was still against violence – especially in the middle of the hallway, where a prefect (that is not myself) may catch us and send us all straight to detention.

"Snogging his face off, Weasley," he said dryly, raising an eyebrow at me, turning away from Leering Boy for a moment. "What does it look like? I'm saving the day."

He said this all sardonically and sarcastic-like, and I glared. "I don't need saving! What the bloody hell do you think I am, a damsel in distress?"

He opened his mouth, a smirk playing on his lips.

Not that I was thinking about his lips, or anything.

"Don't answer that," I scowled, grabbing his arm before he could hit poor Leering Boy again. "We need to talk."

Look at me, sounding all serious and mature. Who would've thought it, Rose Weasley being serious? And halfway sane?

He looked down at the hand holding his arm in place, before shrugging it out of my grip. He turned toward Leering Boy, whose face was bloodied and slightly grotesque – the purple bruises were already blossoming on his face. "Macmillan, go find your girlfriend and shag her or something. Just get out of my face."

Leering Boy stood up, glancing over at me, and then looked like he was going to retort something back, before The Malfoy sent him a glare so fierce even Uncle Harry would've cowered under his stare.

Yeah, and then Leering Boy ran.

"What is it you'd like to talk about?" he smirked at me, looking as if he knew exactly what I'd like to talk about.

"The rumours," I said, not looking him in the eye. The blotches were acting up again, and I wasn't about to let him see I was blushing.

He slung an arm around my shoulder, his arm fitting around my shoulder comfortably. Curse my inability to grow taller than five foot four!

"What rumours? I thought they were true," he grinned down at me and I tried to prevent my cheeks from heating up, to no avail.

"Of course they're true, Malfoy," I said dryly. "I want to shag you senseless in loads of different places, one being McGonagall's office."

"Kinky."

"Shut up, I need to straighten things out with you," I said firmly, ducking under his muscled arm and stepping in front of him. He was still smirking, but there was a serious glint in his steely eyes.

"Straighten things out? I thought we already had things straightened out," he raised an eyebrow at me. "You fancy me, and I want to shag you."

You can imagine how I looked at that point. Something like a cross between a tomato and a constipated elephant.

I stared. And stared. And, you know, stared.

"I don't fancy you," I finally blurted out, not tactfully at all. "I hate you."

Instantly his smirk faded, and he looked annoyed. "You hate me?"

"Yes."

"Why the bloody fucking hell do you hate me?"

"Because you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"But you do. You called me a clumsy, bumbling oaf of a person."

"When have those words ever come out of my mouth?"

"Okay, you didn't say it – but you were definitely thinking it."

He looked more annoyed than before. "So you don't fancy me?"

"No," I laughed, and the sound was unfamiliar and strange to my ears. "Of course I don't!"

"Albus and Lily said you do."

"Albus and Lily are also Slytherins, and liars. And they've been plotting to get us together since First Year."

I expected an outraged reaction. I expected him to look completely bewildered at the antics of my cousins. Or maybe a sigh of relief, seeing as I'd cleared things up for him, because obviously he'd been completely and utterly disgusted when he'd heard the rumours, thinking they were true and all.

But instead, he didn't utter a word, or sound, or anything in between those two noises.

Wait, what? I hurried after him, stumbling a bit on my robes to catch up to him.

"Wait, you're not saying anything? Nothing like, 'Well, I'm so infinitesimally relieved and eternally grateful that you don't actually fancy me; thanks for clearing everything up, I'll go buy you a butterbeer and maybe some of Honeyduke's best'?" I asked, looking confused as my eyebrows met in the middle of my forehead.

"Other than the fact that you are a clumsy, bumbling oaf of a person and that I hate you?" he replied wryly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "No."

"I – uh, I –" For a moment all I could do was look at him. Seriously, it was like I lost my ability to speak. I let out a noise that could only be described as a squeak.

Great. I was squeaking now.

"What?" he said harshly, turning back to me. His eyes were cold and unforgiving and the steeliest I'd ever seen. "Going to fuck around with me again, lead me on again? You fucking fancy me now? Is that it? Changed your fucking fickle mind?"

I honestly had no idea what he was going on about, and my half-elephant half-tomato phase hadn't passed yet, so I got angry instead.

Yeah. Angry Rose is definitely the way to go when I don't know what to do.

"Led you on? Led you on? Led you to believe that, what," I snorted unattractively, "I wanted you to fuck me? That I wanted you to shag me? Bed me? Use me?"

And the Blotches struck again, this time disarmingly fast and unnecessarily fierce. Pfft, the woes of being half-ginger.

He at least had (somewhat of) the decency to look fairly chagrined, which only proved my theory correct.

Boys and their hormonal urges, I swear…

But then it went even more downhill. I didn't even know it was possible to be that downhill. As far as I was concerned, we'd reached the bottom of the hill ages ago.

Forget the hill, we were practically digging into the center of the Earth at this point.

"I didn't fucking – I don't fucking want to –" He let out a frustrated noise, and his eyes were grey and thunderous and completely unattractive.

Completely.

Shove it, Hormones.

"You don't fucking what? Now what? You don't want to shag me? Am I too ugly for you now?" Well, I kind of was, but that was beside the point! I was too busy trying to disarm him and beat him at his own game – which I had deemed, The Game in Which The Malfoy Uses The Word 'Fuck' Way Too Often. It had nothing to do with the fact that it almost bothered me that I was too unattractive and elephant-tomato like for Malfoy to fancy me – or anyone to fancy me, really.

Nothing to do with that at all. Psh.

He didn't say anything. I took that as my confirmation.

"Oh, what is it then? Tell me. Is it my fucking untamable hair? Is it the blotches on my face when I blush? Is it my temper?" I was on a roll. Though I may have been overreacting a tad bit. Just a tad. "Is it the fact that I don't have boobs? Or a figure, really, at all? Is it because I'm not curvy, and I'm short, and I have too many freckles? Tell me what it is!"

He didn't say anything, just stared at me for so long I swore he'd gone into a coma or something.

It was quite unnerving, actually.

"Well?" I said visciously, not particularly ready to hear his answer. "What the fuck is it?"

He looked at me, and I sort of hoped that maybe he would deny everything I just said, but, well – he was Scorpius Malfoy and I was Rose Weasley and these things do not work out that way. Ever.

The Malfoy. The boy I'd hated since forever, and that wasn't about to change in one fucking night.

"Well, you guessed it. You guessed all of it," he sneered, eyes giving away nothing but hate – absolute, irrevocable hate. And that was what I was used to. "I hate you so fucking much, Weasley."

The girlish side of me took over, and I felt my eyes start to water; I'm ashamed to say. I glared up at him, tears blurring my vision, and I wasn't really sure why I was feeling so horrible, like I was one of the toys he'd played around with and then thrown out, but I did.

Yeah, not such a pleasant feeling.

"You fucking disgust me," I snarled, turning quickly away. I started running – and no, he did not call after me with apologies spewing from his lips like in those Muggle movies Mum makes us watch. He just stood there, fists shoved into his pockets, sneering from what I could make out of his face.

And that's what happened.

Rose, who woke up this morning with red eyes
due to an incessant amount of tears shed the previous night.

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – Morning, Breakfast.
Great Hall.

THINGS I, ROSE WEASLEY, NEED TO DO
Learn how to be tactful
Get Lily to stop ignoring me
Find Albus Potter
Transfiguration/Herbology/Charms/Potions/whatever homework
Divination calendar (who are we kidding? I'm not doing this!)
Prefect duties
Stop crying
Get Albert and Lily together

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – Morning, Breakfast.
Great Hall.

Pointedly ignoring Scorpius Malfoy, who keeps glancing over here. Probably to glare at me some more.

NEW MISSION: Screw Scorpius Malfoy, I need to find Albus. See if he has any new info on The Malfoy, so I can sabotage anything The Malfoy may be planning due to the fact that he is a douche.
TIME: 10:22 AM.

Rose Weasley, for once I have a half-normal signature

Same, Same.

I hate Sundays, I realise.

Just like I hate Scorpius Malfoy and pumpkin juice.

Fuck it all, I'm cornering Lily.

Rose, hunting down Lily.

Same – Lunchtime.
Great Hall.

Well, Lily's too busy snogging Cayden to notice me or talk to me. Or talk to Albert, for that matter, who is awkwardly sitting next to her and his brother as he sends occasional glares toward the pair.

I suppose it's time to help Albert.

Rose, off to save Albert from witnessing something no one needs or wants to witness.

Same, Same.

Sitting next to poor Albert now. Making small talk, and pointedly nudging him toward the direction of Lily.

Who might just be too busy right now to notice her best friend is madly in love with her, because she is blinded by fallacious love herself.

Or maybe she's blinded because Cayden's face is practically glued to hers at all times, therefore obscuring her view.

Still trying not to think of a certain blond wanker…

Rose, who's going to whisk Albert away to somewhere more private,
so we can discuss our evil, secret plans.

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – After Lunch.
Outside the Great Hall.

So I grabbed Albert's arm, screaming, "Look! A distraction!" and while Lily and Cayden stopped sucking on each other's faces for a moment to look in the direction I was pointing; I ran, dragging Albert with me.

Am I clever, or am I clever?

"Albert, we need to talk," I said faux-seriously.

He looked scared for a moment.

"About the plans…" I added, wiggling my eyebrows at him, but the scared look only morphed into confusion.

"Plans?" he prompted, chewing on his lip and looking quite anxious for reasons completely unknown. "What plans?"

"The plan in which you and Lily get together, of course," I stated matter-of-factly, and his face looked quite like I did last night, except he was more tomato than constipated elephant.

Albert grunted. And blushed. "'s'not happening, Rose."

Well, this boy was certainly optimistic.

The doors of the Great Hall opened, and I dragged Albert to a corner near the window curtains, close to the Great Hall but not close enough for anyone to see.

Er, unless they craned their neck and cocked their head to the side, that is.

"Look, Albert," I grabbed his arms, staring him down. My stare-downs almost always work. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah," he admitted, ears flushing at our proximity. Seriously, Albert, I wasn't going to snog you or something. Relax.

"Then go after her," I said seriously. "Look, you need help. Okay, tell me – how does Lily act around you?"

"Erm, like Lily?" he didn't know what to say, and he kept glancing down at my hands, which were still on his arms. I sheepishly removed them; I didn't think he was used to human contact yet.

I leaned against the wall, looking bored, crossing my arms over my chest. I stood like that for a minute, occasionally rolling my eyes when Albert tried to add something, or say something.

"Does she act like that?" I asked exasperatedly, suddenly, and Albert shook his head vigorously, a confused look crossing over his face.

"Well, how about…" I suddenly giggled, placing my hand on his arm (which, surprisingly, wasn't skinny and bony like I'd assumed) and pulling him toward me so that our bodies were touching.

Rose Weasley, Seductress Extraordinaire. I think I'm getting better at this Slutty Slaggerpants thing. I mean, seriously, I could use this tactic for anything!

Dead useful, Slag Rose.

"Oh, Albert, you're so funny!" I fluttered my eyelashes at him exaggeratedly, imitating what I'd seen Henrietta Hawking do to a multitude of hormone-induced boys. I giggled loudly again, almost losing my lunch over the pure girly-ness of it all.

God, this was disgusting.

I stopped and turned toward him, giggling expression turning back to neutral.

"Well? Does she act like –"

I didn't get to finish my sentence, because guess who interrupted? Again.

Yeah, Scorpius Malfoy. This was becoming somewhat of a pattern, wasn't it?

He pushed me to the side, and the next thing I knew, I heard a loud crack, louder than the din of the corridor, and he'd landed his fist on Albert's face.

I was feeling déjà vu, at this point.

"Geroff!" I shoved him aside, looking concernedly at Albert's inevitable broken nose. I pointed my wand at his nose, whispering, "Episkey." before turning furiously toward The Malfoy.

"Is there a problem?" I hissed, poking my finger at his chest.

"Yes," he growled, sending a piercing glare toward Albert, who was clutching his nose and standing behind me.

Dear God, Scorpius Malfoy had anger management issues.

"What is it now?" I said. "Care to explain?"

He said nothing, only continued to glare at Albert – and that's when I put the puzzle pieces together. He fanciedhe fancied –

"Oh," I said suddenly, realising what was going on. "You fancy…oh. It makes sense."

"What?" he turned sharply toward me, metallic eyes boring into me.

As per usual, Attack of the Blotches. "I get it, Malfoy."

"Do you?" he said, looking skeptically over at me, features melting into a neutral expression, which was only slightly better than the anger.

He looked dashing either way, which was both irritating and blotch-inducing.

Albert scratched the back of his head and looked at me confusedly, not entirely sure what I was talking about – but I was absolutely positive my theory was correct.

"Yes," I declared confidently, "you fancy Lily!"

"What?" both Albert's and Malfoy's voices rang out in the hallway, and both sounded rather sharp.

"He," at this, I gestured toward The Malfoy, "fancies," I drew a vague heart shape in the air, "Lily."

I pointed to the girl in question, who was quickly stalking toward us.

Malfoy blinked at me, a bewildered expression on his face – I'd caught him off-guard with my intelligence and prodigious skill at snooping – he never would've worn that expression if it were the normal circumstances.

"Lily!" I said as she got closer, looking furious, Cayden following after her looking even angrier. "If you must know –"

I was simply going to tell her that The Malfoy fancied her, and that he wanted to shag me to make her jealous, but something stopped me.

Oh my God, I'm officially the unluckiest person in the bloody universe.

Albert lunged toward me just as Malfoy did, and Albert somehow got tangled on top of me, and his lips –

Well, let's just say his lips were somewhere in the vicinity of mine.

And by that, I meant they were attached to mine.

Rose, Unluckiest Person in the Galaxy

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – Sometime Before Dinner.
The Same Random Corridor Outside of the Great Hall.

After that untimely crisis that I will now call, The Meeting of Lips, The Malfoy went ahead and punched Albert again, and they got into some sort of tussle on the floor.

Apparently Albert was more willing to be violent now, when it involved Lily.

"Stop it!" shrieked Lily on the sidelines, frantically waving her arms about, similar to what I'd done last night, except Cayden was lurking behind her, looking absolutely livid.

It seemed many people were resembling tomato/elephants these days, because both Lily and Albert and I looked like that.

I, however, was doing nothing to stop anything at all. While Lily flailed, chaos commenced, and Cayden joined in on the fight – for absolutely no reason whatsoever, might I add, as it did not involve him in the slightest.

I must say, Albert Rosier is a good kisser. Here I am, sitting on a window sill, waiting for them to calm down as Lily continues to flail, and the three boys continue to send hexes and punches flying everywhere.

Yeah, not going to get caught up in that mess. I'm busy trying to figure everything out, anyway.

If The Malfoy fancies Lily, how was I supposed to get Albert and Lily together? Does the boy have to go around ruining all of my life's plans? I mean, no offense to Albert or anything, but compared to The Malfoy, he's not the most…striking person.

I mean, The Malfoy was somewhat of a dashing person, when he wasn't being a vile git and all. Actually, when has he not been a vile git? Maybe he was slightly (but only slightly) pleasant for a moment or two after he stopped punching Leering Boy last night, but then he started playing TGIWMUTWFWTO, and all was lost.

Shit, Lily's tugging on my arm now, trying to make me make them stop.

Ha. As if I could.

She's getting extremely frantic now, because apparently, Albert's nose was broken (again) – but she didn't seem to care very much about Cayden's cut lip and black eye(s).

Must be off to save the day!

Rose Weasley, the girl with the unfortunate morals
and slight Hero Complex.

Sunday, December 2nd, 2022 – Skipped Dinner.
Gryffindor Sixth Year Girl's Dorms.

Friends are overrated.

I don't need Al (who has yet to turn up), or Lily, or Albert. I don't need anyone. It's perfectly okay to live a life without any friends, secluded and all.

Being a lonely old spinster is looking more promising than ever talking to anyone ever again. Who needs friends? Who needs people? I'll just get a billion cats and be done with it.

Rose, Anti-Social and Tired.


a/n: Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up in no time! Sorry in advance for the long wait, as I'm expecting there will be one.

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