Chapter 1 : An Introduction of Sorts
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Or I guess I could just go and live with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny.
That’s what’s going on in my head right now; sitting in Flitwick’s office while I wait for my life to end in a big explosion (aka Mum exploding). See I’m (usually) a good girl; I’m their little Rosie. I don’t pull stunts like this one and I don’t get in trouble.
However, as the old phrase goes, desperate times call for desperate measures.
And when Slytherins (specifically Malfoys) are involved, desperate is definitely the right word to use.
You see, if there’s just one thing that I’ve learned from Dad, apart from how to burp the alphabet, it’s that Weasley VS Malfoy is a never ending showdown that we are currently leading. So letting my (cough traitor cough) cousin and Malfoy get away with charming all the Gryffindor brooms to buck us off whenever we get ten feet above the ground (right before the match against the Slytherins, I may add) was not going to happen. Putting ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Fast-Action Laxatives’ in their evening pumpkin juice didn’t really seem too drastic to me.
“You know,” that pompous voice pipes up from the chair beside me. “If either of our parents kill me on sight, I hope you carry the burden of my death till the end of your days.”
“Your parents?!” I say, “You’re worried! I think I’m the one who’s allowed to be worried, Malfoy! My mum will keep me locked in my bedroom for twelve years or she’ll force me out onto the streets and you don’t even want to know what that will lead to…”
“Slightly selfish, don’t you think,” he smirks.
“Not at all, especially as you’re the reason we’re so deep in shit.”
“Do my ears deceive me or did I just hear little Rosie Weasley say a naughty word?”
“Oh fuck off, Malfoy.”
And my parents choose that exact moment to appear in the green flames of the grand fireplace.
“Rose Weasley!” Mum gasps.
“Hi, Mum” I say meekly, ignoring Malfoy’s stifled sniggers.
“What the hell is going on, Rosie?” Dad asks, he looks bewildered, but strangely not too angry.
“It was nothing really, just a little joke,” I say.
‘You made us shit ourselves in front of the entire school,’ Malfoy whines. I roll my eyes while Mum inhales sharply and Dad clenches his fists. Picture perfect family right?
Before we start Wizarding War Three in the centre of Hogwarts, Flitwick bustles in. To be honest, he doesn’t look that surprised at the scene before him.
“Mr and Mrs Malfoy will be along in just a couple of minutes,” he informs us. Brilliant, I’m sure this is just going to be one big ol’ party.
The flames in the grate burn green once more and Mr and Mrs Malfoy appear, shaking the dust from their robes. Mr Malfoy has always reminded me of a rat, or a ferret; some kind of diseased rodent while Mrs Malfoy has a much fuller face that always looks far too kind to be alongside Draco Malfoy’s.
“What have you done now, Scorpius?” spits Malfoy, ignoring Flitwick who stands up to greet them.
“Nothing,” Malfoy (as in Scorpius) replies blankly.
“Not entirely true, Mr Malfoy,” Flitwick says, having retaken his seat. “Scorpius here, along with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team, has been caught charming the Gryffindor team’s brooms to buck them off which, fortunately, did not cause any serious harm but may have proven fatal in the wrong circumstances.”
The sneer disappears from Draco Malfoy’s face for a split second replaced by what I can only assume is a proud smile. It looks like the face my cousin James makes when he does a “good” fart.
“Oh, Scorpius,” Mrs Malfoy says shaking her head at her son.
Flitwick then goes on to explain to both of us how irresponsible and dangerous our actions were. Unless the stench of the Slytherin’s team shit gassed the school (which isn’t that unlikely), I really don’t see how we were being all that dangerous. Apparently Mum doesn’t agree, she nods furiously at everything Flitwick says and she really reminds me of those bobble-head dolls you buy as souvenirs. However, she hasn’t exploded yet (I think she’s probably saving that one till she gets me alone). But hey, when your mother doesn’t explode all over the headmaster’s office, can you really say that you have too much to complain about.
Flitwick tells us that we’ll both be serving detention every Saturday morning from now until Christmas. Together.
“What?” Malfoy splutters, he looks horrified and though I’m pissed off myself, it amuses me to see that my company disgusts him that much.
“Yes, Mr Malfoy. You and Miss Weasley will be working in the Greenhouses. Maybe it will allow you to put your differences aside and settle this pathetic squabble.” Both Dad and Draco Malfoy look thoroughly put out that Flitwick has just referred to the ‘Weasley-Malfoy Feud’ as a ‘pathetic squabble’ but Mum and Mrs Malfoy are both nodding seriously.
Flitwick thanks our parents for coming in and Dad gives me a quick wink before stepping into the fireplace. Mum, on the other hand, gives me one her ‘don’t you think I’m letting you get away with this one Rose Weasley’ looks while she follows him.
“James Sirius Potter,I swear to Merlin I am going to make you regret the day you were born,” I say when I see James relaxing on one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room.
“Hey, Rosie! How was Flit-“ he doesn’t get finish. It’s hard to talk when you have a pretty tall sixteen year old girl lying on top of pummelling any bit of you she can get her hands on.
“Thanks…to…you,” I say between punches. “I’m going to be spending my Saturday mornings until Christmas shovelling shit with Malfoy.”
“Aw sorry, Rosie,” he says, the mocking grin on his face tells me he isn’t sorry at all. “You need to learn to run faster.”
He’s still smiling and I can’t help but grin back at him even if he did abandon me surrounded by the empty packs of laxatives.
“Was Al there?” James asks.
“Nope,” I reply. “Jumping ship when the going gets rough must be in your genes”
“Oh.” He sounds almost disappointed. Epitome of a great brother right there, that James Potter.
“Rose! Rose are you okay?” I turn to see Tori, my best friend. “I heard from a fourth year that you and Malfoy were in with Flitwick.”
I don’t even want to know why she was gossiping about me and Malfoy with a fourth year but I nod, “Yeah it’s fine. After James here-“ cue glare that could match my mother’s, “-left me with the evidence Longbottom sent me up there. Long story short my head will be served with Christmas dinner on a platter when I get home and Malfoy and I are being sold into slavery every Saturday.”
“You want me to jinx Flitwick for you?” Tori says, I laugh but she’s probably serious. It’s where Tori and I differ most. I’ll just call someone anything upwards from ‘dirty hippogriff’ under my breath (unless it’s James Potter of course) whereas Tori is much more likely to smile sweetly then hex you the minute your back’s turned. Charming girl, really.
James has retaken his seat and re-fluffed his hair. Why none of the Potter men are never content with having hair that actually lies flat on their head is totally beyond me. He’s now returned to rating the arses of everyone who climbs out the portrait hole with another seventh year Ed Roden.
I correct myself, everything that James Potter does is totally beyond on me.
A/N- Thanks for reading the first chapter! This is a lot shorter than the other chapters will be from here on, I just wanted to see what people thought so far. Please remember to drop a review, I'd love to know what you think :)
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