“You mean we’re going to play and you’re going to undermine every opinion we have and pick them,” James corrected with a smirk.

“Didn’t I say that?” Rose asked, returning his smirk and walking out onto the pitch.

“That’s your Charms one. That one’s due back two days before the others. It’s popular.”

“Why would Charms be popular?” I asked.

“Close your mouth when you speak,” Ryan replied sweetly and disappeared down another aisle.

Lastly, there was Mox Quick. Mox was jittery and terrified of flobberworms. I swore he followed us up to the Tower after a hoax of a sorting and pretended to be a Gryffindor. I wasn’t one to say I could kill of a dragon, but Mox ran yelling if there was a spider in the shower.

“What kind of trouble?” Dad put down the box.

“The kind that’s big.”

He pulled out his wand and I heard the door to the back room bolt-lock.

 It was really hot in Ravenclaw Tower. Like, very hot. My torso was sweaty.

“I don’t care. I’m not reasonable!” He rolled over on the bed, hair flopping into his eyes. “Sure you can’t get out of it?”

“Pretty sure the castle needs Prefects.”

He huffed. “They don’t really need Prefects. It’s a power struggle.”

 She frowned and for once I saw the color on her cheeks rise.

Alert the presses. Ryan Davies was embarrassed.

 “Yes, I told the bed-ridden pregnant girl to shut up,” I said with a grin. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“I have my wand.” She looked at her table. At the book. “Where’s my wand?”

I withdrew it from my pocket. “This?”

 It was time I took responsibility for my actions, especially when they impacted my family. It was time I stood up to be who I was born to be.

 Whatever I was expecting, this was not it.

 She smirked. “Happy New Year, Weasley.”

“And you,” I said, eyes opening. We were so close I could see her individual eyelashes.

“Baby kicked,” Ryan whispered.

“As it should.”

 “Stop reading. This is revolting.” Ryan groaned and peered around for something else to throw.

“Peter – oh his name’s Peter – pressed his palm into her chin, raising her lips to meet his yet again. He kissed her hungrily – like he wants a sandwich? – and pressed her back against the stone wall of the castle – why would they not be in a castle? – She struggled at first, hating that it felt as good as it did – is this how you feel when you snog me? You hate that you love it?”

 “No worries,” I whispered.

“He’s even better than me at Quidditch.”

“No worries,” I repeated, firmer, and caught his eye.

He stared. “You didn’t.”

I smirked. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

 I took another swig and finally met her eyes across the table. “Are we doing this?”

“What?”

“This. Are we going to have a conversation?”

Rox didn’t reply for a moment. Instead, she looked over my shoulder at the window and then back at me. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”

 “Besides,” I said, squeezing his hand, “You have to meet my little girl. She’s not here yet, so you’ll just have to wait around to see how pretty she is.”

  I locked myself in the back room again. The same table I’d cried on when admitting to my father I got Ryan pregnant. I cried there again. This time for an entirely different reason.

 There was something else there, too.

I hated it being there, but I was aware.

 “Less people staring when I come knocking.”

“Honestly, when was the last time you came knocking?”

“Not the point. If I want to knock, I don’t want people being weird about it.”

“You make them weird. You’re weird.”

 “You named her,” I said.

“I found a name worthy of her,” Ryan said, smirking in that devilish way she did.

 “BABY BABY BABY BABY WHERE IS THE BABY.”

“James. Please calm down.”

“BABY. NEED THE BABY.”

“James. Ryan will, literally, cut your fingers off.”

“BABY.”

 “Where’s Georgia?” asked James.

“Oh, you know, we just sort of let her fend for herself. She’s killing bears now to feed.”

James stared.

“Mum has her, you idiot.”

 “I think it’ll be okay.” I clapped him on the back.

“How do you know?”

I thought of all the times I had asked my father that question. What did he say?

I cleared my throat. “Because it has to,” I said, repeating his words.