My Cousin's Best Friend
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy – I don't know much about him. Only that I have to "never go near him if you value your place in this family" according to Dad. I do know that he's Albus' best friend, seeing as their both Slytherin's. I also know that he can be cocky sometimes. What I don't know is how I feel about him. Rose + Scorpius.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by the fabulously wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One: Of Jealousy and Late Nights
--
Sighing, I plop down on my bed. The Welcome Feast has finally ended, and now I can get some shut-eye before class tomorrow.
I was little bummed out at first that I didn't get Head Girl, but I think I'll be okay. It went to Natalie Chimmers, a muggle-born Ravenclaw. I suppose she did deserve it. Surprisingly, Albus got Head Boy. Believe me when I say that no one saw that coming. The little Slytherin git.
"Rose, what are you doing in bed so early?" Ava's voice rings through the doorway, penetrating my thoughts, as she walks into our dorm. We've been best friends since first year.
I roll over and check the clock, before turning back towards her.
"It's almost 11 – I don't know why you think it's early, you should be getting to bed, like me," I respond.
"Why?" she asks, staring at me and crinkling up her nose.
"We have classes tomorrow," I warn, causing her to roll her eyes.
"Who are you?" she asks, "My mom?"
"Yes," I answer sarcastically.
"Well, I'm going back down to the common room," she replies.
"I'm sure everyone's heading up to bed soon," I state, "Since they all have the common sense to get enough sleep before the first day of school," I rub the last part in extra hard, hoping she'll get the hint. I'm pretty sure she gets it, but instead of listening to my fantastic advice, she turns, letting out a harrumph, and leaves the room.
Only minutes later, the rest of my dorm mates pile into the room, save for Ava. She's probably still downstairs. There are six of us total who are seventh-year Gryffindor girls – Constance, the quiet beautiful French girl, Jane, the Gryffindor slut – sorry, that was rude, but true, Allison, Mrs. Smarty Pants, Morgan, who's just, well, Morgan – I can't really describe her, of course there's also Ava, the super nice, friends with everybody person, and then me. I'm not sure where I fit in – probably under the sarcastic-and-witty down-to-earth quidditch-fanatic category, if there is one. I've been a chaser on the team since Second Year.
Not that school isn't important to me, though. I mean, I like school, but I've definitely grown past my whole 'follow the rules and be a goody two-shoes' stage that I was in first year. It's not my fault I used to be like that, though – before my first year Mom filled my head with rubbish about having lots of homework and how I should make all sorts of study schedules, which I fully did for like the first year or two. I guess old habits die hard.
Enough about me though.
"So Rose," Jane says, breaking through my mind barrier. I hate talking to her. "Thinking about hooking up with Connor again this year?"
I make a face. She just had to bring that up. Last year, I went out with Connor Delaney for a total of 4 months. The biggest waste of four months of my life. Ever.
"No," I answer abruptly.
"Okay, good. I was just checking, cause you know, he is awful hot ..." she trails off and smirks at me, "And I totally wanted to make sure you were okay with it."
I snort. Loudly. We both know that my 'permission' doesn't matter to her. I suspect she just wanted to see if I would be jealous – because she would just love that; she loves to torture others for no reason. I don't even know why she's in Gryffindor – everyone knows she belongs in Slytherin.
"No worries," I fake-smile sweetly, "I won't get jealous. If you want to have sex with him, go ahead."
She gasps. "Goodness, Rosie dear, what a dirty little mind. I was just going to ask him out." She gets up and walks into the bathroom. But Jane never just asks somebody out. There's always something more with her – revenge, sex, jealousy, whatever. Anything and everything.
"Jerk," I whisper under my breath, and Allison shoots her head around.
"What was that?" she asks.
"Nothing," I respond, "Go back to bed," and I yank the curtains around my four poster bed and pull the blankets up to my chin. The sooner tomorrow starts, the sooner tomorrow ends.
--
I wake up to a crash. Groggily, I sit up in bed and pull my curtains aside. The room fills with quiet giggling, but I can't see anything because of the dark.
All the other beds have closed curtains – except the one next to me. Oh God, Ava.
"What's this?" A high-pitched voice rings out, followed by even more incessant giggling.
"Wazzagoingon?" Morgan asks, sticking her head out of the curtains.
"You're, uh, you're dreaming," I answer, the first thing that comes to my mind.
"Oh, okay," and her curtain closes. I can hear her head fall back onto her pillow.
Slowly, I make my way across the room, towards the giggling. Pulling out my wand I mutter, "Lumos." A small light appears at the tip, and I shine it at the face of the suspect.
"Ava?" I ask carefully, and she giggles even more.
"Such a pretty light, Rosie!" She shrieks.
"Shhh!" I caution, but she doesn't listen.
"Rosie, Posie, Losie, Tosie! Tosie rhymes with Rosie! Cozy, Mosie, Hosie, Fozie, Bos – " I silence her by putting a hand over her mouth. She's drunk, I just know it. I lead her over to the bathroom and turn on the light.
"Wait here," I warn, and she nods, swaying slightly. "Sit." I command, and she giggles.
"Am I a dog Rosie?" She asks, laughing harder. "You told me sit! I'm a dog!" I gently grab her elbow and sit her on the floor.
"Stay," I say, before closing the door. I walk over to her trunk where I pull out her pajamas and a few bottles of potions that I know she keeps in there for emergencies like this. It's not the first time this has happened, although it doesn't usually happen too often.
I walk back to the bathroom.
"Ready Ava?" I ask.
"Ready for what?" she asks, giggling.
"I'm going to give you some stuff to drink," I answer.
She immediately backs away. "I don't want to drink any stuff from you Rose!" she hiccups.
"It's not bad, I promise – Avie." She giggles.
"Avie! Avie! Avie rhymes with Mavie!"
"It's going to, um, let's see – make lots of boys like you!" I said, knowing she would drink it. Of couse, this wasn't true – it was a sobering potion which put you to sleep for five minutes, and then when you woke up you would be sober and hangover free.
"Boys!" she screams, "Ploys! Toys! Foys! Gimme, gimme, gimme!" I hand her the bottle, and she downs it. A few moments later she sways, her eyes closing, and falls down the ground, sound asleep. And I wait, like always. Wait for her to wake up, wait for her to stop this.
Five minutes later, she comes to.
"Thanks Rose," she says, realizing what happened.
"No problem," I say, standing up, getting ready to leave so she can get changed.
"Wait," she calls, and I stop. "I'm sorry," her voice is weak, hollow.
"It's okay," I answer, coming back over.
"No, it's not," a few tears fall out of her eyes, "I didn't mean to! I never mean to! I didn't want to! Connor dared me! I didn't want to – I know he's a stupid pig, but, then he was calling us wimps – said there was a Slytherin party in the Room of Requirement – oh!" She stops, now fully crying.
"And then?" I ask gently, knowing she needs to get the story out.
"Oh! So he asked me to crash it with him! And, and, I don't why I listened! I went with him, and there was a party, oh there was a wild Slytherin party! And then he disappeared, and I don't know – I saw Albus, I thought, oh! I went over – he, he gave me a drink! And then I was drinking so, so many firewhiskeys!" She was crying uncontrollably. "Why do I always do this Rose?" She asks.
"You don't do it as often as some other people," I point out.
She sniffs. "Am I an alcoholic, Rose?" she asks quietly.
"No! No, you're not. You only get drunk, like once or twice a month – no, I don't think so." But it doesn't sound right; it doesn't sound true.
"That's not true," she whispers, "You only see me get drunk once or twice a month." She sighs.
"What do you mean, Ava?"
"I'm so sick of it!"
"Tell me, Ava, please," I say, getting worried.
She pauses, "I have a confession, Rose," she says, "I drink almost every day. I can't help it – I don't want to, but the firewhiskey calls to me – it started summer before sixth year – when, when Mum died," she cries, cries, and cries. And I'm not as shocked as I could be – because deep down inside I knew this; I knew she was addicted. I shake my head, and lean into hug her.
"You'll get through this," I whisper. And I know she will.
--
A/N: Wow, sorry for the information overload – and all the serious issues. I promise, most of the chapters won't be dealing with such serious things. I just needed to get this thing in there, because it's crucial to the story. Well, you'll see next chapter. Anyways, like it? Hate it? Review!