Popular, she is always surrounded by friends and admirers. A gentle smile on her lips, she meets the world head-on, not afraid of the challenges she might have to face. Around her, there is never an uncomfortable silence, yet the conversation isn't overbearing. Her brilliantly blue eyes flash with joy as she laughs, but as she catches me staring at her, I look away, embarrassed. She smiles, confused. Rose Weasley is unattainable.
I hide in the library, tired of the taunts. I am not my father. I enjoy the books, devouring the words eagerly, not caring about the rest of Hogwarts and their opinions. I hear a chair scraping against the floor and the thud of a book against the wooden table; I see a flash of red hair and I smile to myself. Her presence is comforting. Rose Weasley is a red-headed angel.
I walk up to her in the library, book in hand, wordlessly. I pull up a chair, sit down and begin to read, but first I smile at her cautiously. She is stunned, yet her answering grin lights up her face. I look down at my book. I sense, though we haven't spoken, this is to be our routine for a long time to come. Rose Weasley is visibly surprised!
As I struggle to concentrate on the runes, I feel her gaze on me. I look up at her, smirking, and sure enough- her blue eyes are focused on me, her bushy red hair pulled up in a messy bun, her flawless skin glowing, radiating light. She glares at me, motioning at the textbook ordering me to study. I roll my eyes, but return to the textbook. Rose Weasley is a hard task master!
I stick my tongue out at her, she grins in return. This childish behaviour is reserved only for her. She knows the reason for my ecstasy- I have achieved a higher grade than her in a Potions test, proving that she can indeed be bettered. She knows that I can give her a run for her Galleons! She knows that I can be competitive. Rose Weasley is on her guard!
I don't speak to her for days. I refuse to go for our study sessions in the library. I hate Lysander Scamander; he is a prat for dating her. She deserves someone who knows her, actually cares about her. To him it is just a fling. Does she not see that someone loves her? Cares about her? Rose Weasley is heartbreaking.
I comfort her when Lysander breaks it off. She claims she knew it was just a "thing", yet she cried buckets. I massage her back, shushing her gently. I hate seeing her cry and being able to do nothing. I hate Lysander for dating her, but I hate him even more for hurting her. However I feel relieved, for Rose Weasley is single.
I see a change in myself and I know she does too. It confuses her. A tiny complement from her, however everyday, causes me to blush. Her hand accidentally brushes against my arm; I feel a spark shoot right through me. I am overcome with jealousy when I see her talking to other boys. I refuse to speak to anyone for a while. Rose Weasley is baffled.
I see her in the library, worried because I am late for our study date. She is pacing up and down the aisles, a frown on her face. I glance at my watch and realise that I am half an hour late. I tap her shoulder, before she turns I feel her relax, knowing instinctively that it is i. I offer her no explanation for my lateness; instead I drag her out of the library. Rose Weasley is bewildered.
I take her to the Great Hall, for that is where I first saw her, at this hour it is deserted. The setting sun falls on her red hair, making her glow like a warm, welcoming fire. A phoenix calls in the distance, drawing me out of my reverie. I take a deep breath and hand her a note. She begins to read it. I wait nervously. Rose Weasley is beautiful!
I have decided to tell her that I love her, that I have since the day she made the effort to discover my refuge in the library and befriend me. I know she doesn't love me the way I love her, but I need to tell her. I see her shake her head. My fears are confirmed. I start to get up, but I feel a hand on mine. I turn back; she smiles and presses her lips to mine. She loves me! Rose Weasley is mine!