Chapter 1 : Barefoot in the corridor.
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"Don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie," dad said, staring me deep into the eyes. I glanced over at the blonde boy my father was referring to, and swallowed. "Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood."
I remember looking up at dad and nodding seriously. Mum sent him a stern look, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. I think James interrupted my dad's lecture by freaking out about Teddy and Victoire snogging. But I can't be certain.
That was the first day I saw Scorpius Malfoy. It's over five years ago now, but the memory of my dad's words still ring clear in my head.
Dad also told me to beat him in every test, and thus far, I've managed to keep that part of the deal. I would've managed the not getting too friendly-thing too if it hadn't been for Albus Severus Potter.
That prat is the main reason to why I am now sneaking out of the room of requirement with no underwear, a nasty hangover and a lot of self loathing.
I've hooked the flimsy, high-heeled footwear on one finger, and I shiver as I tread barefoot on the freezing stone floor. My feet go numb with cold eventually, and I shiver with every step I take. But I have to keep moving, I have to get away, even though it means I will die of hypothermia. I certainly don't have the slightest interest in putting on those torture devices that are disguised as shoes - it's a miracle my feet aren't disfigured after wearing them for all those hours last night.
I told Dom it was a bad idea to put those heels on. Actually, I also told her it would be a bad idea to go to that party altogether - and lookie here, I was right. Bad idea was actually an understatement. It was more like a colossally horrid, awful and terrible idea. No, come to think of it, even that doesn't do it justice - I must admit that I do not have the vocabulary to express how bad the idea reslly†was.
And I have a very large vocabulary, so that's saying something.
I continue sneaking my way away from the room of requirement as quietly and as swiftly as I can, and mentally abuse myself, Albus and Dom while I do it.†
Yes, it was her fault for dragging me to that bloody party, but...it was I who stayed and drank my own weight in firewhiskey. So I can't blame it all on my wretched best friend(unluckily). But I can(and I will) blame it on my other cousin. Because if it hadn't been for Al having to celebrate his bloody birthday by throwing a disgustingly large party in his own favour, I wouldn't have gotten drunk, and I would still be a virgin right now.
But I did get drunk, and I'm not a virgin anymore...
I grimace as an array of awkward images from the night before flee through my head. My memory is hazy, and the more I try to remember something, the more it feels like my brain is being fried.†
Maybe it's better to not remember at all...
At least I've arrived at the portrait of the fat lady, and my cold toes are looking forward to the heat on the other side.
"Veritaserum," I say groggily, hoping that my hoarse whisper is enough to wake up the fat lady.
But she keeps on snoring loudly.
"Veritaserum!" I press and my voice cracks several times.
"Hrmp- What? Oh, of course it's another Weasley," she complains and snorts. I roll my eyes, I know where this is going... "And if it's not a Weasley, then it's a Potter! Just like your parents - never allowing a poor old woman her rest -"
"You're a portrait," I remind her impatiently, "technically, you don't need sleep."
Her painted eyes shoot lightning rods at me.
"Don't give me that look, remember how flammable you are - you might ignite yourself."
The fat lady growls at my rude comment, but I figure she's come to the conclusion that it's best to let me inside so she can go back to sleep.†
"Appreciate it," I mutter darkly while I climb into the Gryffindor common room.†
The warmth is the first thing I register. The second thing is how empty and quiet it is. Usually, the common room is bustling with students; their laughter, chatting, gossiping, and pranks every now and again.
Now, all I can hear is the sound of the fire dying out, letting out hisses and cracks.†
I shuffle closer to the clock on top of the mantlepiece. No wonder it's quiet down here, it's only 4:07 am.
I close my eyes for a second, and I notice how my body aches for sleep. With a large yawn, I put my feet to good use again and make my way up to the dormitory I share with the other girls in my year.
The door creaks when I open it and I tiptoe over to my bed, the one right next to Dom's. Her short, jet black hair(she coloured and cut it in protest this summer, to her mum's dismay) looks like some sort of cuddly animal resting on her pillow, and I can hear her talking in her sleep.
At least I'll get some sleep before Dom's interrogation begins. At the party(before she passed out on the couch and was carried back to bed) she noticed how drunk I was, and that I was clinging onto every bloke I saw. And considering how she's been on my case lately about still being a virgin...well, she's going to have a lot of questions.
But will I answer them?
I'm still not sure about that one.
I'm fairly certain nobody saw us, and Malfoy was more wasted than I was...maybe he won't remember?
It could go forgotten - like it never happened at all.
The only comforting thought I have before I slip into a comfortable coma, is that even though we were both blithering drunk, we at least had the common sense to use protection.
There was a girl last year who got pregnant at my age, and it scared me shitless - along with everyone else. At least her horror story would count as the most effective(though harsh) sex education class for the rest of us.
It is the only silver lining I have, and I'm clinging onto it as the sound of Dom's mutters sends me into another realm. One where I don't have to think about the fact that I just lost my virginity on a couch in the room of requirement, with puking breath from throwing up only minutes before, blinding drunk, and to none other than Scorpius Malfoy.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be a nightmare?
Well... At least a girl can hope.
"Rose. Rose? Come on, Rose. Rooooooooooooose!"
The only thing saving the life my bitch of a cousin rigt now, is the fact that we're related. And that killing people is illegal. I'm not too keen on rotting away in Azkaban for her - I hear the food they serve is terrible. And being my father's daughter, food is my best friend.
Dom used to be my best friend. Not anymore. Make way, you beastly mongrel, you've been replaced by treacle tarts and breakfast sausages.
That'll teach her to wake up a hung over, sleep deprived and depressed Rose Weasley.
Wait, why am I depressed again?
"Where the hell did you go last night? I woke up to go vomit at, like, 2 am, and your bed was still empty!"
It's starting to come back to me now...
"The last think I remember is you telling me you had a mission to 'give away your flower', and then you chugged down a goblet of firewhiskey. What the bloody hell happened?"
The couch, the vomit, the fumbling, the sloppy kisses...the sex. Memory is a fickle bitch.
I groan and bury my head under my pillow. I can still hear Dom't annoyingly deep man-voice cutting through the down, even though I try my best to block her out. I even start singing "London bridge is falling down", in my own head to tune her out, but her booming set of pipes makes this feat next to impossible.
"Answer me!" she calls for the umpteenth time, but this time she actually has the audacity to tear away my sacred pillow.
"Oh, my god," I moan loudly. "Can't you respect the holy rule of not waking up the dead?"
"You're not dead, you're just hung over," she corrects me. I can hear she's pleased with finally having my attention. Oh, how I hate her right now. "Which, by the way, is no mystery considering how much you drank last night. It's a wonder you even managed to get into your own bed."
"Well, I did get here, and I have no intention of getting out of it for the rest of the year."
"It's november. That's two months."
"I meant the school year," I growl and fumble after my pillow. The cousin from hell won't allow this. "Don't take my pillow!"
With an annoyed hiss I pull myself up and open my eyes into tiny slits. It's too light in the room, and I struggle to keep them open.
"Give it back," I command and hold out my hand. Dom, that wench, stands perfectly still with one hand on her narrow hip, and the other one gripping my pillow and holding it away at arm's lenght.
"Tell me where you were," she says slyly, "and then you can have it back."
I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger. It's something dad usually does in extreme annoyance, and he passed it on to me.
"Tell. Me. Now."
"I don't...remember," I lie. I'm a bad liar. My eyes go shifty and my neck gets all itchy.
"Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now, Rose Weasley?"
My hate for her grows by each passing second.
"No, it's true - I don't remember everything!" That actually is true.†
"But you do remember something?"
Her brain works too fast for me. This is not the norm, and I dislike it strongly.
"Maybe a little..." I admit under my breath and tuck some red hair away from my eyes. They've adjusted a little bit to the light, so they don't feel like burning anymore.
"Like drinking - a lot."
"I think we could safely assume that, with or without your memory of it," she remarks snidely.
I glare at her for a bit. "And dancing. Falling down often because of those stupid heels you forced me to wear."
"That's all peachy, but none of this explains why you weren't in bed until the wee hours of the morning."
"Well..." And then - lightbulb. "I was helping to clean up."
Dom eyed me suspiciously. "Really?"
"Yeah, I remember now." Please, almighty Merlin, let me be able to lie just this once - it's for a good cause! "I stayed behind to help Al tidy up the place, it didn't seem fair that the birthday boy had to do all the work."
"I guess..." Dom trails. Her eyes drill into mine, daring me to look away in shame(as I usually do when I lie). But I manage to maintain a somewhat normal expression.
"Alright. Let's say I believe you..." She's still looking at me unconvinced. "So nothing else happened?"
"Nothing major, no." Understatement of the decade.
"Nothing I'll be hearing through the grapevine?"
I sincerely hope not.
"Now that I think about it, I might've snogged Timian McLaren a little bit," I tell her and shrug my shoulders. It'll feed Dom's need for gossip for the time being.
"What? Really?" she gasps. "How was it? But he's ugly!"
"He's not that bad," I say, knowing this would send Dom into a tirade of how wrong I was. At least it will give me some time to think about what to do next.
I just hope Malfoy's memory is more blurred than mine. And if it isn't, that he's got the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
But seeing as he's a Malfoy, the son of my dad's sworn enemy, I doubt he has any goodness in him at all...
First of all - it's so good to be back!
Here's a new story, and I really hope you'll like it! Sudden inspiration swept over me and, and I had no choice but to make good use of it :)†
Thank you for reading - and I'd really appreciate it if you told me what you think of it so far!
Have a fabulous day, lovelies!
Credits: The quote at the beginning is from the epilogue of The Deathly Hallows, page 605, and is written by J.K.Rowling.
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