The Great Hall was crammed with first years. Crammed. The numbers had been gradually increasing as parents felt that it was safe once again to send their children to Hogwarts, as opposed to home-schooling.

The War had never stopped my parents from sending me to Hogwarts, but both of my parents were part of the Golden Triangle. Which means that when it comes to anything scary, they were both really, really sassy.

"Mom, there's a spider in the bath!"

"Your father and I fought Lord Voldemort, and you're scared of a spider?"

Okay, that's not exactly how it goes, but you get my drift. It's hard to be ladylike when you're the first-born daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley. For one thing, I know more about Quidditch than most of the boys in my year. The first present my dad ever got me was a tiny little hovering broomstick that I rode around like a cowboy with a serious sugar high.

I tugged at my robes. They were getting a little short around the sleeve, and a little, embarrassingly tight around the bust and hips, but other than that, they'd see me through 'til Christmas break. I'd changed into them on the train and been shocked at my summer-time growth spurt.

The firsties were being sorted tentatively, one by one, by the Sorting Hat, and I was watching them in fascination. The candles lit everything in a soft glow.

"How are they so small?" I whispered to Lily, trying to keep one of the little tots from hearing me.

She elbowed me sharply in the ribs as she gulped down a whole glass of pumpkin juice in one go. "That was us only a few short years ago," she reminded me, one eyebrow raised.

I raised both arms up above my head just so she'd get the gist of how tall I'd be if I stood up. "Oh, come on, Lily, we're seventh years." I waggled my fingers at her to prove my point. "We shouldn't even remember being that age. We should complain about our rickety backs and yell at second years when they use naughty adult words."

"You used those words in second year," she said, piling food onto her plate as it appeared.

I groaned. "That's not the point, Lily, look-"

Something cold latched onto either of my upheld hands and I screamed, yanking them down and under the table. I'm really bad at surprises.

Lily's face didn't change at all. She bit into her forkload of steak and kidney pie as if I hadn't just been seized by the Giant Squid. I gaped at her in betrayal, and then I heard the chuckle, right above my head. Only one person on this earth has a chuckle like that. I have been a victim of it for six bloody years.

I tipped my head back and Scorpius Malfoy looked down at my red face. He was smirking in delight, but when our eyes met he just raised an eyebrow. It was infinitely more irritating than when Lily did that. Scorpius was the best Keeper the Slytherin's Quidditch team had ever had, but I was proud to say that the Gryffindors had gotten some pretty sweet goals past him- a majority due to me. Let's say 'friendly sporting rivalry' and take out the 'friendly' and the 'sporting', and you have a pretty clear image of our relationship. I had no idea who he was off the pitch, but I knew from playing against him that he was tough, fast, hard to distract, and a demon on a broomstick. Who played dirty.

"You're a little git, Malfoy, you know that?" I wheezed, rubbing my wrists. They didn't hurt: I realized he'd barely touched me at all, despite the shockwave the touches of his fingers had sent through my body, even before I'd known it was him.

"You're the one who was about to take someone's eye out," he replied, calm and collected, as though bodily mutilation was anywhere near as serious as a heart attack.

"You foiled my plan," I told him in deadpan, and then faced the table again sharply.

I could hear him smirk as he replied, voice sneaking up on me like a blizzard. "Because Gryffindor couldn't win unless I was blind? I'm glad to see you finally realize it."

I turned back to him sharply and rose to my feet like a forest fire, trapped between the table and the bench attached to it. I was still a head shorter than him, but in my anger it felt like we were even. I raised a finger and stabbed him in the chest with it, eyes locked. "We could beat you anytime, anywhere!" I said, and it came out louder than I thought it would, my eyes and cheeks burning.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Lily muttered to a little tot who was staring at us.

Scorpius leaned in until we were nose-to-nose, and his breath smelled like peppermint and evil. His silvery eyes glittered like gems on a treasure map. "That looks like loser's bravado to me, Weasley," he said mockingly. "Aren't you over-compensating?"

I couldn't talk for a thirty seconds because I hadn't really realized how broad his shoulders were close-up.

"What? Of course I'm not," but he'd thrown me off balance, whether he knew it or not, and I think he did, the prat. "Want a bet?"

"I'm not the sort to gamble," he answered, drawing himself to his full height and looking down at me. His hair was blonde as ice and the candle-light above gave him a sharp, spiky halo. Jack Frost, I thought.

"Oh, get on with it, Hyperion," I said, and his eyes flashed and I grinned like a maniac because this boy hated his middle name. I was feeling cocky. Or more like I had something to prove. He could get as handsome and holier-than-thou as he wanted, but we were equal (with Gryffindor being the better side of equal) when it came to Quidditch. "I challenge you."

He stared, genuinely startled. "You challenge me."

"Three games. Just us." He was about to rebuke me when I raised my hand and covered his jaw. His eyes turned into saucers and I smiled. "Winner takes all."

"Takes all what?" Lily asked drolly. She'd been eavesdropping?

I jumped a mile, yanked my hands to myself. Scorpius was still gazing at me like a pillar of vaguely confused salt. And then he smiled, polite and genial, and my bones turned to ice. "That's a good point, Potter," he said, not looking at her. "What exactly are the stakes here, Weasley?" he taunted.

I took a breath, hands still on icy, icy fire. Why had I touched him? I'd never touched him before, not skin-on-skin, not intentionally, in all of our six years knowing each other. He'd never seemed...touchable before. He was an icy prince, detached, and the playing field wasn't exactly the perfect conditions for social interaction. Not that I- I mean, I didn't want to touch him-

"Weasley?" A voice smooth as silk and sharp as a sword cleaved through my thoughts.

"What?" I stared at him.

He was deadly serious, eyes dancing. "Name your stakes. If you really think you can beat me."

"I've done it before."

"Flukes and lies," he said dismissively.

"Fine!" I raised both hands to put them on his shoulders, realized he wasn't on my team, and dropped them. I'd never practiced with someone from another team before. This was surreal on a number of levels. "Loser has to-"

"Admit she's the worst Quidditch player in the entire known universe in front of everyone," Scorpius interjected languidly, hands in his pockets as he stood a few inches too close to let people walk past behind him. He towered over me. "And wear the other team's colours." He smirked. "If I win, Weasley, you play as a Slytherin in the next match. Against your own team," he added, reveling in the words.

My face went pale as I glared at him, unwilling to back down. "And if you lose, you play as a Gryffindor, admit that I beat you -no matter who asks, or when- and carry my books for a week. Including the Care for Magical Creatures one."

His lip curled in distaste, and he sneered, eyes still sparkling bright. He reached behind him and plucked his wand from his pocket, pointing it just over my shoulder. "Deal."

I plucked my wand from my robes, and crossed it against his, hands shaking just a little. "Deal!"

The air filled with sparks, gold and silver, and then he grinned, kissed his middle finger at me, and sauntered to the other side of the Great Hall.

I sat down at the table with a thump, heart hammering, knees as substantial as jelly. What just happened?

Lily had filled my plate at some stage out of pity, and was now engaged in an argument with her brother (Albus; the slightly nicer, younger one) about their owls. I picked up my fork, but my stomach was a circus, and I'd lost my appetite for just the moment.

"You realize you did just organized a duel within your first ten minutes of sixth year?" she commented as we made our way up to the dormitory.

"They're matches, not duels. We won't be getting our wands out," I muttered, yanking my hair out of its braid.

Lily grinned at me. "Do you want Scorpius to get his wand out for you, Rosie?"

"Don't be gross, Lily," I scoffed, beating her up the stairs.

It was promising to be a very eventful year.

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