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Confessions of a Teenage Witch by Puygme puff gal
Chapter 6 : Lovesickness and Wildfire Whiz-Bangs
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 6

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amazing banner by: cast!el

Disclaimer: i own nothing, except my origonal charecters and the plot :) also i dont own the song lyrics they are Not Afraid by Eminem

Beta: Luvinpadfoot

It had been days and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Malfoy.


Not that I had been looking for him. I have better thing to do than that. It was the morning of the first Quidditch game. All week Al had been booking extra hours on the pitch, working us until curfew or until we dropped from exhaustion. He made sure we got to bed on time. He had even been monitoring our food intake at mealtimes.


Everything was perfect, Al’s plan was set in motion. Each of us had notes on our opponent’s skills and weaknesses, provided by Al, of course. The Wildfire Whiz-Bangs had been strategically placed the night before. We even stuck some inside their brooms, all to be set off at the right moment.


Now on this fine morning I was planning to sleep in as long as possible, run down to the Great Hall to grab a quick breakfast, then run down to the pitch in the nick of time.


Unfortunately that is my plan, not Al’s…


“Rose Nymphadora Weasley!” Al roars, slamming open the door to the dorm. I really have no idea how he got past the females only charms. But of course he is a modern day Marauder.


And yes, isn’t my middle name just charming? I hate it just as much as its original owner did. Or so I hear.


“Rose! Get up, you slug-a-bed. We have a Quidditch game to get to!” He pulls open the thick velvet curtains, blinding everyone in the room with the early morning light.


“NO!” I growl, pulling my plush duvet over my head.” Go away!”


“Albus! It’s six o’clock in the morning!” Lucy’s voice moans.


“Thank you captain obvious!” murmurs Al stalking around the dorm.


“Al, Goddamn it! I do not fucking care if Voldemort was bloody raised from the fucking dead! There is no reason for you to be here, wanker!” Dom screams profanities from under her covers.


Let’s just say Dom isn’t the most pleasant person in the mornings.


“Oh stuff it Dom,” Al sighs. “Come on Rose the game starts in two hours.”


If I ignore him maybe he’ll go away.


“Fine Rose, have it your way, but if you’re not coming out I’m coming in to tickle you out,” he chuckles menacingly.


I prepare my fingernails to damage his perfect Potter face. 


“Here I come!”


“What the…Al?”




“W-What are you-”


“Sorry, s-sorry, so sorry”


I sit up. Al has launched himself from Juliet’s bed and fallen over a stack of books. His face resembles the shade of my hair. Juliet on the other hand looks like she’s about to burst into tears, the covers pulled to her chin, knees to her chest. 


By this point Al has somewhat recovered and he grabs my hand, pulling me out of my soft, warm, cosy bed, out the door, and halfway down the steps.


“Rose! You didn’t tell me Juliet is your dorm-mate,” he looks panicked and sick to his stomach.


Dear Merlin I hope he hasn’t had his breakfast yet.


“Uhhh, so,” I raise my eyebrows in question to Al’s breakdown. “Al, is there something you need to tell me?”


“No! Rose why would there be anything- I have nothing, I-I uhhh. Rosie-. Errm, we have to go!” Al stutters out, leaving me smirking and him even redder that I though possible.


“Hang on Al, I’ll be right back,” I stand, pulling myself out of Al’s vice-like grip.


“No!” he begs. “We have to go,” he says, grasping my prickly, unshaven legs.


Unfortunately I haven’t had time for anything more than basic hygiene lately.


“I just have to change, I’ll be right out,” I say motioning to my Chudley Cannons pyjamas. I skip up the steps to the landing of our dorm room.


As I lightly bounce off the last step, a whoosh and a yelp come from the bottom of the staircase.


Flat on his back, mouth open in protest, Al lies on the plush carpet. The sturdy wood circular staircase had flattened out into a slide peventing anyone from climbing up.


“Sorry, I’ll be down in a sec,” I quickly push open the carved wooden door into the room.

Dom is primly seated on her French style vanity that her Mum magically shrunk to bring to Hogwarts our first year. Lavinia is in Juliet’s recently invaded bed with her, stroking her long blond hair while rubbing her back comfortingly. Juliet has her head buried in her legs in a sitting fetal position.


I have never seen her like this. Juliet was the one who stayed positive when I fumed, Dom ranted, Lucy worried, and Lavinia whined.


For all our troubles she keeps a stash of Honeydukes chocolate in her trunk.


It works every time, gotta love that girl.


“Jules, what’s wrong,” I croon. I already know the answer. My cousin is a heartbreaking prat. I snatch some worn jeans from my trunk, pulling them on my legs hurriedly.


In response her small frame starts to quake.


Lavinia looks up from her comforting to shoot me a glare.


I rumple my eyebrows together as if to say, “gosh, what did I do?”


“You are all so thick, she’s love sick. It’s obvious,” Dom states as she smears mascara over her obscenely long eyelashes.


With that Juliet begins to shake harder, muffled squeaking sounds erupt sporadically from her.


“Dom!” I snap, “I think everyone already know that.” I hiss the last part under my breath as to not upset Jules further. I reach into Juliet’s trunk. After sifting through her things for a moment I pull out a tray of truffles, still sealed with wax. I throw the box at Lavinia “You know what to do.”


I am only capable of babysitting one heart at a time and I’ll bet twenty Galleons that James won’t be there hand feeding Al his favourite pie and lending him his shoulder to sop up all his melancholy eye juice with.


That’s my job.


So tending to Juliet isn’t on the top of my priorities at the moment.


I snatch my bottle of moisturizer off my nightstand, striding to the loo. I squeeze some from the bottle smearing it on my tired skin I gaze at the framed mirror staring at my freckled covered face.


I wasn’t much of a beauty, I had my Mums frizzy hair with the traditional Weasley colouring, of course. I also had my Dad’s blue, almond shaped eyes, my nose was small and button like. And like I said before, every inch of my skin was covered in millions of freckles. Lovely.


Sighing at my sleepy reflection I instinctively run my fingers through the bird’s nest some people call hair. Yawning, I trudge to the door. I better get going before Al starts pulling his own hair out.


“Rose! You said it would only take a minute it’ been sixteen and…23 seconds. I was worried,” Al wails.


“Merlin Al, I’ve just been trying to help my dorm-mate you’ve emotionally tortured. What did you think would happen? A Death Eater attack? Really. I roll my eyes.


“Well you never know-,” he mumbles. I grab his hand and pull him out the portrait hole.




The corridors are clogged with people most of whom are dressed in Gryffindor or Slytherin decorations for the game.


If I hadn’t had a tight hold on Al’s hand we would have lost each other in seconds.


In an instant the hall opens up, people in either side, down he middles stalks a group if Slytherin robed figures. I look around. Al and I are the only ones who haven’t glued ourselves to the walls.


The Slytherin formation breaks and a raven-haired figure struts out from the centre of the group.


Gweneviere Sterling.  


In all her ‘drool worthy’ glory. Not.


She moved to England during our second year. Her daddy is a bazillionare, he has some sort of wizard chain beauty shop in America.


Anyway, she is a Slytherin, a very stereotypical one at that.


Evil, cunning, heart breaking, fame-hogging, boyfriend-stealing slag. Do I need to go on?


Since her Daddy is a Zillionare she is famous. The paparazzi, front of ALL the magazines, top ten most dateable heirs, etc. Well now that she moved here she has to share her spotlight. With who? You ask. With Harry Potter and Co. that’s who! And she doesn’t like that one bit.


From day one she took the reins, boys worship at her perfect toenails, girls dream of being just like her, she gets perfect scores and the teachers adore her. It’s sickening.


She gets everything, and what her daddy can’t buy her she slinks up behind it and snatches it when no one’s looking.


What’s the one thing she can’t have?


James Potter.


That’s right, the bloody slag wants my cousin. And doesn’t give a damn about the rest of us Weasley-Potters. Just James.


“Rose,” her nasally American accented voice drips poison.


“Gweneviere,” I hiss back, my eyes narrowing down to slits.


“Well isn’t this cute, the ginger and Baby Potts.”  That’s what she calls Al. “Out for a morning stroll around the pond are we?”


“Gweneviere, why don’t you take your pathetic friends down to your lair so you can pay them to do something besides follow you around like puppies,” I step forward. 


Al touches my shoulder, gently but firmly holding me back. “Rose…come on let’s get out of here.”


“No,” I whisper, “Not a chance.”


“Tsk, Tsk, Rose. Haven’t you realized by now? There is nothing you and your maggot family can do to hurt me,” she announces


I stand my ground, giving Gweneviere my best don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-a-Basilisk glare. She raises her waxed brows, giving me a half-smirk.


“Rose!” Al whines from behind me.


“Oh really? What about purple hair?” I counter. I fight the temptation to pull out my wand and actually do it.


“Listen to him Weasley, wouldn’t want to get your face ruined even more than it already is.” She flexes her fingers like a cat.


Yeah, like she could take me down. I live with the Weasley’s, she’s nothing.


“Bring it,” I hiss, my fingers itching to grab my wand from my boot. That’s where I keep it since I’ve spent too many Galleons having my wand repaired from sitting on all the time.


“Your funeral,” she smirks pulling her wand from her back pocket.


“Rose,” Al whispers. “Stop, don’t do this.”


I ignore his protests, snatching my wand from my boot, pointing it directly at Gweneviere’s heart.


“Expelliarmus!” she shouts, I duck quickly out of the way, the spell narrowly missing my head.

“Furnunculus!” I cry, sending the spell hurtling at her.


“Protego” she flicks her wand and the spell shoots back at me.


“Finite Incantatem!” I yell and the spell dissolves in front of me. “Rictusempra!” I shout sending another hex her way.


“Confund-“ the spell is just leaving her lips when a shout down the hall stops her.


“Finite Incantatem! Expelliarmus!” A deep voice commands, Gweneviere’s and my wands fly from our fingers into the hand of the newly revealed person.


Uncle Harry.


“Dad?” Al questions looking very confused.


“Harry Potter,” an excited voice shouts from among the hoard of people.




“It’s Harry freaking Potter!”




“No way!”


 “Harry Potter!”




“Harry freaking Potter!”


“Uncle Harry, what are you doing here?” I manage to say over the shocked shouting of my fellow students.


“Well besides stopping you ladies from duelling,” he smiles, “I’m here to watch the first Quidditch game of the season.” His gaze turns to Al who looks slightly embarrassed, “What? Do you think I would miss my son play Quidditch as captain for the first time?”


Al turns even redder.


“Al, Rose come with me,” he looks stern for a moment. “Everyone enjoy the game!” His face brightens into a forced smile as he ushers us from the corridor.


“Dad!” Al exclaims.


“What Al?” Harry sounds slightly annoyed.


“What are you really doing here?” Al questions. This has been on my mind also. Harry is a workaholic. He has never been at the school for any games, even when Teddy Lupin was made captain and he’s like Uncle Harry’s son. Not that Uncle Harry doesn’t like Quidditch, he was captain of the Gryffindor team also, and he and Aunt Ginny were on the Holyhead Harpy’s team for a while.


“Strictly Ministry business, I’m here on an assignment. End of story.” Uncle Harry sticks his pointer finger up to push his glasses up further on his nose. “Now I’m off to Minerva’s office, I’ll see you later. And Rose, no more fights, you hear me?” he hands me back my wand and heads back down the corridor. Leaving us alone.


Al turns to me. “What on Merlin’s bleeding Earth were you thinking?”


“I-I I don’t know,” I stutter out.


“But Gweneviere?” He questions.


“Come on let’s go,” I huff.




I moan while biting into a sticky, warm cinnamon roll. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sits on the far side of my filled plate.


“Making you moan already, am I?” Lorcan jokes from across the table. 


I roll my eyes, “Oh hush, you git.”


I glance up, across the wooden table Al picks at his food. That is not a good sign for a growing Weasley or Potter.


The emotional distress coats his face like the icing on my cinnamon rolls. His face circles up to meet my gaze. I give him a sympathetic half smile, then return to my heavenly meal, stuffing my cheeks like an overgrown chipmunk.


“Morning everyone!” Lucy appears beside me sitting down and filling her plate.


“Morning,” we chorus back.


Due to the early hour the hall falls silent quickly as we stuff our mouths.


“Ahem,” a voice coughs from behind me, my fork stops in midair. I see Al slowly look up, his eyes narrow into slits and his jaw sets firmly.


“Sorry to interrupt your lovely family gathering,” the husky voice I know too well continues. “But I’m here to warn you…all.”


I swivel in my seat, glaring up at the speaker’s tall, lanky body and windswept locks.


“About what, Malfoy?” James growls from behind me.


“Well, Potter, it wouldn’t be a surprise then would it?” he chuckles slightly.


“Spit it out or sod off, Malfoy,” I hiss out from clenched teeth.


“Now, now Weasley, no need to shoot the messenger,” he smirks down at me. “And Potter, keep both eyes open on the pitch, will you?”


He spins on his heel stalking out of the hall.



”Al…AL…AL!!” I shake him by the shoulders.


“Yeah, hum?” he asks, dazed.


“Get it together!  You’ve worked us too hard to fall apart now!” I say roughly.


“Yeah, sorry. I just can’t concentrate,” he says sorrowfully.


“I know your lovesick over Lavinia but you better fix it soon, the game starts in five,” I huff, yanking the gold and red jersey over my puffy hair.


“Whatever,” he resorts, pulling his jersey over his bare chest.


My teammates have gathered into a huddle in the center of the locker room. Their chants of our traditional pregame pump up song ring off the walls.


“We’re not afraid, we’re not afraid, to take a stand, to take a stand, everybody,
everybody, come take my hand, come take my hand,” they shout, doing mini jumps.

Smiling I walk towards them joining in, motioning Al to follow, he does reluctantly though.


We’ll walk this route together, through the storm Whatever weather, cold or warm!!”


we shout, the words coming easily to my lips.


Al’s shielded face slowly breaks into a warm smile, joining in with everyone shouting the Muggle song at the top of his lungs.


By the end he and Lorcan are fist pumping and jumping up and down.


“Gryffindor!” Our announcer’s voice, which by the way is Dom, penetrates the room as she announces the team.


“Albus Potter as chaser and captain, James Potter also as chaser, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander as our beaters, the lovely Roxanne Weasley as keeper, Trevor Wood as chaser, and last but certainly not least Rose Weasley as our amazing seeker!”  Dom yells into her wand, broadcasting her voice across the pitch.


Blushing,  grip my Whirlwind, pushing off I join the team in the centre of the pitch. The Gryffindor section of the stands cheers madly, whooping, screaming, waving flags and banners. One of them says: JAMES POTTER’S SEXY AND HE KNOWS IT!! in alternating red and gold letters.


A rush of wind blows off the Black Lake, causing my hair to blowing my face. The crisp smell of fall blows in with the wind.


Don announces the Slytherins, they appear one by one waving and jeering to the rowdy fans. Archie Goyle charges out in front, flipping in the air. Showing off to the fans, but also trying to intimidate us. Lastly Scorpious flies out, a stupid grin plastered on his face.


I swear to Merlin, playing Quidditch has boosted his ego thrice.


The wind increases as we set up to start. I can hardly see as my hair keeps blowing out from my ponytail. Just as the Snitch is released a shout echoes across the pitch


“Oi, James, Al! You go get em’,” Uncle Harry leans over the edge of the railing high up in the professors’ stand. He’s smiling and waving like the loony he is.


James and Al turn their heads back towards the game, their faces glowing in embarrassment.


The Bludgers are released, wildly dispersing onto the pitch. Lastly the Quaffle is tossed up, right away Al snatches it from the air, speeding away.


In a matter of seconds everyone is gone, either chasing after or screaming at Al to pass the bloody Quaffle! Only the scrawny third year seeker and I  are left in the dust. I whip my head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the Snitch.


No such luck…


“You’re going down,” hisses the little third year, his eyes narrow into slits, reminding me of his house mascot.


“Sod off newbie,” I snarl at him, speeding off in search of the snitch.


Dom’s voice blasts around the pitch “Potter passes the Quaffle to Wood. The Slytherins are close behind them. Goyle hits a Bludger at Potters head, it’s skilfully deflected by Scamander. Wood passes to Potter, then to Potter, then to Potter, back to Wood. Slytherin chasers Malfoy, Parkinson, and Patil disperse, each one taking on the Gryffindor’s separately.”


Down the pitch I see James zooming across the field. Head down, arm clutching the Quaffle tightly. Both  Bludgers are hit at him, either deflected by the others or dodged by him.


Ruby Parkinson comes up from under James, attempting to snatch the Quaffle from him. James swiftly throws the Quaffle to Al, only to be intercepted by Malfoy.


He speeds past me towards the other side of the pitch, his team mates flagging on his sides, the others behind him. Lorcan and Lysander whack the Bludgers at him. As he nears the hoops the crowd silences, holding their breath.


Malfoy slips the Quaffle to Parkinson who launches it towards the center hoop.


Save it Roxy, come on! 


She deflects it with the end of her broom tail, sending the Quaffle falling towards the ground.


The crowd erupts in shouts, profanities from the Slytherin side, cheers from Gryffindor.


The Slytherins look like the Basilisk spit in their tea. Fortunately the crowd’s cries die down and Gryffindor starts with the Quaffle. Dom is screaming into her wand, “Gryffindor has the Quaffle, no, now Slytherin, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Gryffindor…Go Al! Go! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot it! Go Gryffindor! Stay away from our Quaffle you slimy, sodding snakes!“ Her roaring voice crackles away.


McGonagall’s stern voice blares, “Miss Weasley is taking a break for the remainder of the game. I will be taking over from this point on.” I look towards the stands. Dom is still standing in the teacher’s stands, half hanging over the side, cheering on the team…enthusiastically


I’m snickering slightly when a flash of gold catches my eye…


The Snitch.


I grip my broom with my sweaty hands and take off after it, so concentrated I can hardly hear McGonagall announce, “And Miss Weasley sights the Snitch!”


The game intensifies as both teams try to break the tie. The young Slytherin seeker catches up with me. Neck and neck, both our hands stretched to the limit, trying to reach the Snitch.



I egg on my broom, swerving to the right sharply as the Snitch dives down under us, speeding in the other direction.


McGonagall’s voice reverberates through the pitch. “The seekers chase the snitch while down below Potter has the Quaffle with Malfoy on his tail.”


The Snitch speeds up, I know it was time to put our plan in action. Still chasing the Snitch I yell as loud as possible, “Al, now!” He’ll know exactly what I mean.


The Wildfire Wiz-Bangs.


Al will recite a simple charm to ignite the concealed fireworks, creating chaos and winning us the game.


Right on queue a roar erupts from all sides of the pitch as each firework erupting in a amazing display of our Gryffindor spirits.


Screams of terror explode from the stands, drowning out McGonagall’s attempt to ‘calm’ us down.


I look down to see Malfoy’s broom go up in sparks, sending him flying around like an untied balloon. Malfoy’s clutching the broom for dear life.


I’m still hot on the Snitch’s trail while the feisty Slytherin seeker is caught up in the pandemonium of everything.


“Rose! Rose!” Al’s terrified voice brings me to a halt.


 I peer around, and then I see why Al’s voice was terrified. It sends a pang of terror through my body also.


Malfoy’s wonky broom has collided with James’s, their footholds have been intertwined, sending both of their brooms on a crazy downward spiral towards the ground. The Wiz-bang attached to Malfoy’s broom is still giving off sparks.


My heart is in my throat, my stomach in a knot, my jaw at my feet.


When they hit the ground the firework explodes, sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. Everyone has realized what was happening and goes silent once more.


My body reacts before my mind does and I’m on the ground in seconds.


Pieces of broom and earth come into view as the smoke clears.


“That’s my son!” I hear Uncle Harry’s emotion filled voice from the stands. “Move! out of my way! James! James!”


I’ve stopped at the edge of the wreckage unwilling to see what lies ahead. A hand lightly touches my shoulder, Al, his face crinkled with worry.


Madam Pomfrey, Uncle Harry, and McGonagall are already in the wreckage, calling for stretchers, or shouting orders.


Moans from the boys and frantic whispers from the stands fill the air as they are lifted from the wreckage onto the stretchers.


This is our fault.


I whip my head to look at Al. He has already realized this. He gives me a tight-faced nod and looks away from my gaze.


Bloody hell, this is bad…


The levitating stretchers pass us and the sight makes my blood turn cold. First Malfoy, his face almost unrecognizable from the amount of blood pouring from a wound on his forehead. His arm is twisted at a painful angle. One of his pant legs has been torn from mid thigh down. A scary looking  cut on his shin reveals a fleck of white. It has gone down to the bone. His eyes are rolled back into his head.


I sway against Al’s shoulder. I hope my breakfast stays down.


When James’s stretcher floats past, Al’s hand tightens around my wrist. His face is drained of blood.


Unlike Malfoy James is fully conscious. His shirt has been torn away. His chest rises and falls quickly. His jaw hard set, his hands balled into fists. A piece of jagged wood sticks up from his covered leg. His body is already turning reddish purple His head rolls to the side. He looks at us in desperation and grunts in pain.











I step forward, unable to see him in such pain, pulling Al with me. I touch his shoulder with my hand. It’s meant to be a comforting gesture. But he groans and sucks air in through his teeth. I quickly jerk my hand away. Beside me Al has stiffened up at his brother’s pain.


I drop my head in sorrow.


My hand hangs at my side…coated in blood.


My cousin’s blood…


On my hands…


Dear Merlin, I thing I’m going to be sick.


Malfoy’s head slick with blood…


My mouth dries up, tasting like I licked an old frying pan.


the whirling spiral of the brooms crashing to the ground…


The world goes topsy-turvy, darkness edges in on my whirling vision.


I feel myself fall.






The sound of voices wakes me.


Where am I?


I know immediately, the Hospital Wing. I’ve been here so many sodding times I ought to have my own bed. With a plaque and everything.


But what am I doing here?

Your irrational fear of blood. I answer myself once again.


Oh…irrational you say?


Yes, your very irrational weakness of blood, Rose.



Yes, Rose.


Is James alright?


I don’t bloody know! I woke up at the same time as you Rose! Just because we’re the daughter of the most extraordinary witch of her age does not mean I know all the answers!


Well you should.


At least I don’t have an irrational fear of a substance that fills my body!


Yes you do, we have the same body Rose.


Shut up…

I really should stop talking to myself.


People might think I’m a nutter. Pfft, who am I trying to kid? I’m a Weasley, we’re just a load of nutters.


I sit up and gingerly step onto the cold floor.


I’m still dressed in my Quidditch robes, but my socks and shoes are gone…weird. It must be those bloody Nargals!


I push past the pale pink curtain encasing my bed.


Holy Merlin’s Bloody knickers…


It’s either a zombie apocalypse or a death eater attack.


Blood spatters on the floor, beds, and surrounding curtains. Empty potion bottles lay discarded, ripped pieces of clothing darkened by blood add to the scene.


Not wanting to walk in blood puddles I chant a quick cleaning spell. In the blink of an eye everything is spick and span.


Ahh, better.


I tiptoe across the aisle of beds to a rather larger curtained off section where the voices are coming from.


“James…?” a voice softly asks.

A round of animalistic moaning follows.


“James, are you alright?” a deeper voice asks concerned.


“Mummy?” a dry, cracking voice moans.


“No Jamesie, its Daddy, Al, Lily, Hugo, Dom, and all of your cousins.” the voice –who I realize is Uncle Harry-, continues.


“Dad?” the first voice asks.


“Yes, Al?” replies Uncle Harry to I guess Al.


“Where’s Rosie?” he questions.


Before he can answer I push aside the curtains and step into the closed off area. “Right here,” I say.


“Rose!” squeals Dom,  wrapping me up in a hug.


“Dom, settle down I’m fine,” I manage from her tight grip that’s pushing all my precious air from my lungs.


“Rose! You’re alive!” exclaims my brother Hugo.


“Yes, very much so,” I assure him. Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.


“Rose…” Al reveals himself.


“Yeah?” I question.


“James…” he motions to the bed.


James lies under the blankets, all the parts I could see were busied or bandaged.


I look from Al to James, then to Al, and then back to James. Finally my eyes rest on Al.


I have to admit, I’m scared shitless. Once the parents find out we won’t see the sun for months. If McGonagall gets to the bottom of this our detentions will be endless or worse we’ll be expelled.


‘Al,” my voice shakes a little. “Out. Now.” I command. He pushes past our other cousins and follows me into my curtained off bed area.


“Muffliato,” I wave my wand.


For a moment we just stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak.


“Sooooo,” Al mumbles.


As you can see Al is a pro with conversation.


I shift uncomfortably, “Does everyone know…what we did?”


“Yes, “ he says slowly.


 My gaze turns icy.


“Well you have to admit Rose it was kind of obvious. Event he Slytherins aren’t dumb enough to sabotage their own player,” he continues quickly. “It’s not just you and me, the whole team is in trouble,”


“Oh…” I sigh. “I’m sorry, I should have timed it better…” I trail off, my gaze softening. I uncross my arms, so they fall limp at my sides.


“No,” Al states his voice sympathetic. “It was me, if I hadn’t brought that bloody goblet and forced you into my stupid obsession to win then James and Malfoy wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and the Slytherins wouldn’t have won.” He sighs and gives me his puppy eyes.


“Slytherin won?” I ask dumbstruck.


“Yeah, well with our seeker unconscious what could we do? And we deserved it anyway. Al gives me a half smile.


“Yeah, I guess we did,” I return his smile. I was happy to be over my hormonal teenage mood swings for the moment. I open my mouth again.


“Everyone here to visit Mr Potter please return to your regular schedules, he needs to rest and I have work to do,” shouts Pomfrey, “Shoo, Shoo! Everyone out!” 


Al and I slip out of the curtain enclosed bed, heading towards the door when a voice stops me


“Al…Rose, I want you to know I am very disappointed in your behaviours. and Minverva will be notifying Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. But I’m sure you will hear enough from Minerva already. I’ll be seeing you both soon,” Uncle Harry speaks sternly.


I turn to leave again but another voice stops me in my tracks.


“Not so fast Miss Weasley.” Half of our group turns towards Pomfrey. “Miss Rose Weasley,” she clarifies looking flustered.


So I hang back while the rest of them leave. Only Al hesitates at the door, unsure where to go. ‘Go’ I mouth to him. ‘No, I’ll wait’ he mouths back to me. I bob my head giving him a little wave.


“Miss Weasley.” I turn. “Here take this potion, it will make you feel better.” Pomfrey holds out a small unlabeled bottle, which I unstop and pour its contents down my throat, grimacing at the bitter taste. When I look back up she has disappeared back into her office.




I sneak into the curtained off area. James glances up and smiles.


“Hey Scarlet,” he greets me.


“James, I just want to say I’m really sorry for-“ I start.


“Scarlet! You’ve got to be bloody joking! That was the best prank I’ve ever participated in. I don’t care that I got a little busted up.”


“A little?” I snort.


“Well it was worth it to see Malfoy’s face before he crashed into me,” he starts to laugh, but he gasps in pain, holding his ribcage. 


“Careful,” I warn.


“Really scarlet, it’s fine, I’m fine. It’s Malfoy you should be worried about,” he indicates to the bed next to his with his head.


I follow his head nod with my eyes. Malfoy lays in the bed, still unconscious. His arm in a sling, bandages cover his forehead. Bruises bloom over his body. He is a bloody mess. Obviously the potions haven’t worked on him yet.

In his unconscious state he had kicked off the thin blankets covering his wounded body. One of his hands grabs blindly for them and a shiver runs through his body. I step up to the bed gently pulling the coverings up to his chin.


For a moment I stare at his face, asleep it’s relaxed unlike the grimace that usually covers it. He looks…almost…but not quite…handsome. Sharp jaw line, golden honey hair, long dark eyelashes…


“Wishful thinking?” Asks James from behind me, making me jump slightly.


“No, of course not,” I say. “Just being nice.”


“To a Malfoy? Who are you and what have you done with Rose Nymphadora Weasley?” James asks sarcastically stunned.


“What was that?” I hiss, was that my full name? or am I imagining things?


“Nothing.” He sinks back into his mountain of pillows.


Yes, be afraid, be very afraid…


“Rose!” Calls Al’s voice. “We’re needed in McGonagall’s office, now.”


I gulp…


Oh sweet Merlin’s knickers on a basket of fuckermuffins…


We’re doomed…

A/N: IM SORRY! this took soooooo long to write, then my awesome Beta took a while to edit it. its super long and i hope you enjoyed reading it! 

Question Time!!!

Al+Juliet= future relationship? i still havent decided if i want Juliet and Al together yet, so let me know what you want to see! 


THE CRASH! was it good? bad? did you expect it?


do you see a Rose/Scorp ship on the horizon? 

please please please feed the little gray box down there with your thoughts on my story! even a little 'i like you story' will make my day! also if you are very confused or have and questions or sugustions for furture chapters please share!!

ok i got to go now! thank you all! 



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