Chapter 1 : Part One
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I was going to kill Al if he didn’t stop trying to distract me during class. If he poked me one more sodding time I was going to go out of my mind.
That’s the problem with being a Weasley at Hogwarts—one has about a dozen relatives surrounding them all of the time, all poised, ready and willing to annoy. But Albus isn’t just another one of those cousins I pass in the corridor or in the common room; Al is in my house and year, which means I am constantly with him—in Herbology we pot mandrakes together, in Defence Against the Dark Arts we duel, in Potions we stir the same cauldron, and, on the third Tuesday of our seventh year, as I already stated, I had to fight the temptation to murder him.
I could picture it vividly in my mind’s eye: I jumped up onto the desk, brandished my wand, and killed my cousin with a brilliant flash of light.
McGonagall’s face would have been priceless. But, Professor McGonagall, what use is this shiny Head Girl badge if the power doesn’t come with it? You just can’t give me a detention for killing him—I did for the sake of my studies!
I ignored the voice in my head that told me I needed psychological help immediately.
It could wait a bit, right?
“All right, seventh years,” McGonagall announced, turning away from the blackboard to face the class. “You are dismissed. Remember that your essays are due this Thursday.”
As the other students collected their books and left the classroom, I turned to Albus, glaring viciously.
I gritted my teeth (a trait my father and uncle both claimed I stole from my mother) and hissed, “What was so important that you felt the need to tap me continually through out the entire lesson?”
Al blushed a bright shade of pink. “I was… uh—well…”
I felt my eyes narrow.
“You were just bored, weren’t you?”
He mumbled something incoherently.
“Albus Severus Potter!”
I knew him too well.
I glared once more for good measure and snatched my Transfiguration book from the desk. Albus, still muttering his apologies, followed as I walked hurriedly from the classroom.
I mumbled an irritated “it’s all right” to shut him up as we made our way to the Great Hall for lunch.
Jeanette Finnigan, a friend and housemate to both Albus and I, had saved us two seats across from her. She was already digging into her beef stew, but she looked up from her bowl to acknowledge our presences.
Jeanette tossed her long, straight brown hair behind her shoulder as she swallowed. She grinned and asked brightly, “So, how was Transfiguration?”
I glared at Al. “Somebody had to poke and prod me through the whole lesson, and I couldn’t even pay attention.”
Jeanette giggled, batting her eyelashes at Albus, and said, “I’m so glad I’m not taking NEWT Transfiguration—being a Historian requires so little, as History of Magic, Ancient Runes, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts are that’s necessary.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go ahead and brag about your lack of homework, too, while you’re at it,” Al replied sarcastically as he tossed a roll at Jeanette’s suntanned face. She giggled in response and tossed the bread back at him.
I was getting tired of watching the two of them flirt shamelessly and turned in my seat to watch the students entering and exiting the Great Hall. A head of pale blond hair caught in my eye.
Scorpius was the epitome of cool. He was tall and thin with pale skin, grey eyes, and blond hair. He played seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team and was the seventh year Slytherin prefect.
He wasn’t just cool—he was hot. As Jeanette said once, “He’s one of the biggest hotties at Hogwarts!” (She had added “right next to Albus,” to the end of that declaration, but I don’t like to think of my cousin as “hot.” Or even as mildly attractive, for that matter. Just… gross.)
Besides his undeniable attractiveness, there’s more to Scorpius—for instance, his last name: Malfoy.
The Malfoy and Weasley families have had an ongoing rivalry for as long as anyone can remember. Scorpius’ grandfather hated mine just as my dad hated his. My mom said that it went back to the Malfoys’ undying belief in pureblood supremacy and utter dislike for muggleborns and half bloods.
All of this made my life incredibly difficult. Why? Well, the answer to that is simple.
I had a crush on Scorpius Malfoy.
I, Rose Weasley, had an enormous, eternal crush on a Malfoy. The world would end if anyone knew.
But even if all of our family drama and hatred were put aside, nothing would have ever happened between us. For the relationship to occur, there had to be interest from both parties. Unfortunately, for there to have been interest, Scorpius would’ve had to acknowledge my existence.
At least, he didn’t for a long time.
A/N: I know I have a million fics going right now, but I really wanted to at least get the wheels turning on this one, especially after the positive response I recieved from my Rose/Scorpius one-shot.
And, I know, it's a short first chapter. *smacks own hand* Sorry, guys. I just felt like anything more right now would hurt the next chapter.
Also, the warnings may change as we go along with this fic; it all just depends. Just wanted to let everyone know.
Anywho, please drop me a review and let me know what you think so far. =)
Thanks for reading!