A/N: This is going to be a short little story inspired by the song A King and a Queen by Okkervil River.
Beautiful song, I suggest you listen to it.
[This is going to be rated Teen mostly because Rose, as I imagine, is a very colorful person. (She is Ron Weasley's daughter, after all.)]
DISCLAIMER: The ever amazing J.K. Rowling gets the credit for everything you recognize.
Huge thanks to keelhaulrose for editing this mess, and making it not so messy. Thanks once again!
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I can't believe this boy.
I can not fucking believe this crappy excuse of a male smirking in front of me, completely clear of the goop now sliming my robes, shoes, and (of course) my Merlin-damn hair.
Anyone else would be apologizing; anyone else would be offering to help clean me up. Anyone else would flippin' give a bees bum.
But Malfoy? He has this stupid, condescending, "well-look-at-Merlin-damned-me" smirk on his stupid pale face, his eyes sparkling as if Christmas has come early.
Damn the stupid boy. Him and his brainless "I'm-just-so-smart-and-don't-need-to-read-instructions-so-I'm-just-going-to-wing-it-and-end-up-blowing-up-my-damn-partner's-flipping-cauldron-because-I'm-just-that-gosh-darn-smart".
Oh yes Malfoy, you're the poster boy of intelligence.
I'm oozing jealousy.
Wait... Why am I wasting these sarcastic comments on myself?
I can think of someone who would value deeply from my dry sense of humor. And he happens to be sitting in front of me.
"MALFOY WHAT THE FU-"
"-Watch it Weasley, we wouldn't want to wash out that filthy little mouth of yours, mind you, I can't see anyone wanting to come close enough to you-"
"HOW DARE YO-"
"Simmer there. You're going to blow a top. And goodness knows you can't afford to blow any more filth on your already soiled attire. Really, and here I thought you Weasley's washed your cloth-"
"IT'S YOUR BLOODY FAULT I LOOK LIKE I'VE GOT TROLL BOOGIES ALL OVER ME-"
"Hold it Weasley, do I look like I wash your clothes? Obviously it was yourself who wished to wallow in filth-"
"EXCUSE ME?! YOU'RE THE IDIOT WHO ADDED PIXIE WINGS BEFORE WE EVEN SIMMERED THE DRAGON BLOOD-"
At this Malfoy rolled his eyes. That's right. Rolled his Merlin flippin' eyes.
Oh, SO no more Mrs. Nice-Rose.
"That's it," I nearly growled at him, sticking my hand in my robes and drawing out my wand. My eyes glared at the enemy, my mind worked out the best possible hex, while my tongue rolled over the suggestions, thinking of the best one to use.
"Expelliarmus!"I gasp as my wand is whipped from my hand and lands directly in the spell caster's hand, Professor Macmillan.
Well damn.
"Miss Weasley! Of all people, you're the last one I would have thought to be holding a fellow student at wand point!"
"Well, Professor I think student is a little bit of an exaggeration. I would have called Malfoy here a vermin. Human is a tiny bit of a push, wouldn't you think?"
The class around me audibly gasps in unison. This is where I would usually have the decency to duck my head in shame at my ever so witty mouth. At the moment though, I don't give a goat's horn what kind of detention I get. Malfoy is going down for ruining my best robe.
It seems though my outburst is too much for my cousin and close friend Albus Potter, as he's literally on the floor laughing.
Oh bless merlins Sunday-robes I need better friends.
Professor Macmillan looks at Al with an eyebrow raised.
"Is there something you find amusing, Mr. Potter?" he asks in a daring tone.
"You... Weasley... Troll snot... Malfoy... Vermin...DRAGON BLOOD..." he says in between great heaving laughs, clutching his stomach.
Obviously I need to teach Al the whens-and-when-not-tos of talking, it seems he hasn't grasped the concept yet. Because clearly this is so not the time to speak
"The apple, it would seem, doesn't fall far from the tree," Malfoy mutters loud enough for me to hear.
I give him a look Nana Weasley would be proud of.
"Right," Professor Macmillan mutters looking away from Al in obvious confusion at the words that he's choking out between laughs. "It would seem detentions are in order. Ten points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor. Detention next Saturday. You're all free to go. Scourgify!" he casts, cleaning the classroom of the goop and most of me too. Though I know the rest won't come out. I hate potions. I hate potions. Hate it.
I glare at Malfoy as he gets up, easy as you very well damn please and leaves the room in a manner you'd think he was, I don't know, Harry Potter or something.
Uncle Harry would so not be proud of the parallel I just drew.
Fuming I pick up the remaining bits of my caldron I can find. I know I can't fix it because I happen to be missing a few big portions of the metal. I sigh knowing I'm going to have to explain what happened to get Mum and Dad to buy a new one.
Life is so fucking unfair.
I've just slipped my quill in my bag when I realize Professor Macmillan has my wand.
Great, now I've got to ask for it back.
"Professor," I say sweetly, not sugar coated, just in that ain't-I-just-the-gosh-golly-sweetest-little-kid-you've-ever-seen sort of way, even if I am pushing 16. "I was wondering if you'd be able to give my wand back..."
He gives me an appraising look, then grins in this way that makes him look like he's 30 years younger, a Hogwarts student himself. "Here you go, Rose," he says in this reminiscing tone.
Dammit.
I know that tone very, very well. It's that tone all my parent's old school chums get when they look me over. It's that sparkle in their eye when they remark my last name, or notice my Granger curls and famous Weasley colored hair. It's that recognition, and excitement they get telling me how much I look "just like your mother", or how "you've definitely inherited Ron's temper!" and of course, "tell me Rose, what's it like having two of The Trio as parents?"
How the hell should I know? They're just... I don't know... Mum and Dad, you know? It really hasn't been all that easy at school. My parents are Ron and Hermione Weasley, my Uncle's Harry Potter, and all of my family were apart of the revolution, playing key parts in The Order of the Phoenix. It's just too much sometimes. And at this moment I don't think I could really handle it. Seriously.
"Thanks," I say quickly, grabbing my wand he's holding out and making a break for it.
I can hear him sighing in the background, obviously disappointed that he didn't get to render in memories, upset I didn't grant him the opportunity to explore the tales I've already heard a million times before.
By the time I've got all my books backed and my want safely stored back into my robes Al has stopped laughing and is waiting for me by the door.
"You know," he says wiping a tear from his eye, the grin still prominent on his face. "You're like, this completely double sided person. One moment you're sitting there in potions with this little 'I'm-Rose-Weasley-and-I'm-Here-to-Learn!' look on your face. The next second you've turned into this, like, fire-spitting, dry, sarcastic brat that no one wants to cross."
I rolled my eyes at his summery of my attitude.
"Yeah, well, you should know more then anyone not to judge a book by it's cover."
Al grinned broader at my statement. Here's this kid who's basically famous. I mean, more famous then anyone at Hogwarts. His(our) relatives were the 'revolution' as I stated before. His mum is Ginny Potter who is to this day the best Bat-Bogey-Hexer ever known to live within these walls. She also played Quidditch with the Holyhead Harpies, leading them to 3 straight victories of the Quidditch Cup. His father is the Harry Potter. I mean, seriously. The guy who saved us all, the Boy-Who-Lived. Not to mention the boy's named after two of the most famous Headmasters of all time.
That's great and dandy, but that doesn't summarize Al at all. That's his history, his heritage, not his personality. I mean, you'd think he'd be a Quidditch obsessed, reckless hero-complexed, great wisdom holder, intelligent and attractive kid.
Riiiiggghhhhttt.
Well, unfortunately he is attractive, as most of the female population will agree (eech) and he is smart when he applies himself, but otherwise he couldn't be more different. I'll admit he's no James, who completely took his names to heart, playing pranks and was the biggest heart-breaker on the planet, having a new girl every week. And he's defiantly no Lily with her innocent façade and her lip-chewing, gosh-darn it, pretty/popular girl antics. He's just ...Al. Shy, but confident, smart but extremely dim-witted, a contradicting, hormonal, best friend who really needs to learn to think before he speaks.
Aren't I feeling sentimental today?
"True, true," he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking down the hall with a hop in his step.
"What's got you so happy?" I ask going quicker to keep up with him.
"Well," he started; he'd obviously been dying to tell me. "See, right after Malfoy blew up your cauldron"-he stopped to allow himself a grin in reminisance-"my partner, Abby Hinter, well she was complaining about how you two can never get along. So, naturally, with her hair messed up adorably and also being I've had a crush on her for the last year, agreed completely. Then we started talking and I ended up asking her out! This Hogsmeade trip!"
I rolled my eyes but couldn't bring myself to crush his mood by going at him for agreeing that, basically, I was immature. I knew he actually liked this girl because, well lets be honest, Al didn't crush on people. I mean, he snogged them, asked them out, and paraded them around on his arm (all of which has earned him complete low respect in my book), to like someone, for any period of time before hand, is actually amazing.
"So does she like you?" I asked conversationally, knowing we have this period off.
Al scrunched up his face a little. That was surely not a good sign.
"Well, she agreed... After she said 'Ah, well, I guess I'll go with you. I've no one else to go with after Roger said he couldn't go...'"
"Tough luck, Al. But you know what they say..." I said smugly.
"..That irritating cousin's can study by themselves for potions?"
Grrr. How dare he use that against me. Everyone knew I sucked at potions, an unfortunate trait I inherited from my father. Potions and Charms have always been my weakness, and, it's a shame Al is the only one who will help me with them. As he often backs me into a corner with the threat.
"Hmm, well, you should remember that next transfiguration class."
Heh. Didn't mean I couldn't play dirty.
"Yeah, well, whatever. I don't have time for this. I told Louis I'd show him how to get to the Room of Requirement today," he said irritably, leaving me and heading to the left.
"Be that way you jerk-face," I muttered for my own benefit, taking a right and heading off to see what my friends were doing in the common room.
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A/N I leave you for now. This was written during a long period of time, so the mood of it probably changes a bit. I didn't mean it to! Everyone who reviews, gets a gold sticker (;
I'll get the next bit up as soon as I write it !
Until next time,
End.
