If I were gusty April now,

How I would blow at laughing Rose;

I'd make her ribbons slip their knots,

And all her hair come loose.

If I were merry April now,

How I would pelt her cheeks with showers;

I'd make carnations rich and warm,

Of her vermillion flowers.

Since she will laugh in April's face,

No matter how he rains or blows-

Then O that I wild April were,

To play with laughing Rose.

I didn't write the above poem. William Henry Davies did: he was a Welsh poet, writer and tramp. That's all I know about him. It's a weird story, the one where I first heard that poem and found out about him...

I had been sent to Professor McGonagall's office in first year for accidentally turning Rose Weasley red. This was well before I was in control of my magic; in fact, it was only the third week of school so I don't think I should be held accountable. Professor Flitwick asked a question to which I replied this wrong answer confidently, and this sent Rose into a fit of laughter. I was annoyed and embarrassed 'so I pointed my wand at her, and she turned bright red to match her curly auburn hair. 'Red' became her nickname because of that situation and she still hasn't forgiven me that first years only know her as 'Red Weasley' now.

The Charms teacher sent me to McGonagall, who left to find Flitwick because, being the embarrassed eleven year old I was, I didn't want to discuss why I was there. Almost the moment she shut the door, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore managed to coax the truth out of me. He found the story hilarious and he asked me what I thought of 'Laughing Rose,' which is what he still calls her, much to her confusion. I told the old man that I disliked the girl, and shrugged, to which he merrily quoted off the poem to me.

I didn't understand the poem, but he seemed to have expected that. Then I was dismissed, being told that he would "talk to Minerva" for me, and I left the round office feeling bewildered. Since then however, I've been collecting poems with the word 'Rose' in them, and I'd send them anonymously to her on her birthday every year.

'Laughing Rose was the last poem I was going to send to her, on her seventeenth birthday. The other poems had been: 'A Simple Rose' by Kevan Mends; 'A Red, Red Rose' by Robert Burns; 'Roses' by George Elliot; 'A Rose' by L. Dylan Christopher and; I'm sad to say that the first one I had sent to her was one I wrote myself. Sort of. Rose's birthday was quite soon after I turned her red, as she had been born on the 12th of October. During those short weeks, we argued constantly and she swore that as soon as she found out how to turn me to jelly, that she would do so. Since I had no way, and no clue of how to get to muggle poetry before her birthday, I decided to slightly twist an old clichéd poem:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Sugar is sweet,

Quite unlike you.

I wrote it out, slightly altering my own handwriting so that she wouldn't suspect the culprit, and on the morning of her birthday, I borrowed a school owl and addressed it to her, before running down to breakfast to see her receive it.

Authors Note: I don't own any of the poems, characters, or anything else you recognise in this story. I am simply a fangirl who wants to share her ideas. I know this prologue is pretty short but I want to see if any one enjoys it first! Please review critically and kindly, I want to get better! Enjoy. :) I'll put up the next chapter if this gets 5 reviews! :)

~Rebekah.