Written for the Daring, Different, Dangerous Challenge.

J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Characters: Molly Weasley (Daughter of Percy/Audrey) and Lysander Scamander (Son of Luna/Rolf).

(Molly's point of view)

The beginning of my fourth year at Hogwarts is today.

I can't believe how fast those three years went by, but now they have and it's another beginning, the fourth one.

Scorpius Malfoy is looking beautiful from over here, with his pale blonde hair and icy grey eyes.

I would like to say that we've been best friends since first year and are slowly falling in love, but that would be a lie.

He hardly ever notices me, and when he does the only thing he does is give me that cute smirk and a wink.

Not that I don't appreciate that, he gives very good winks. It's just that you'd think that if someone was your soulmate, that they'd, I don't know, talk to you at least once?

The feast after the new kids have been sorted is the same as every year.

I manage to find some random spot to sit, and I quietly eat my dinner. They ignore me, and I ignore them.

You would think that a Gryffindor, a Weasley especially, would be brave enough to talk to someone for once.

It's not that I'm not brave, it's just that I don't see the point of friendship and family and such; it seems vastly overrated.

And what's the point of talking to someone who'll be youy friend for a few weeks, then stab you in the back and betray you?

My point exactly.

I leave the Great Hall as early as I can after scarfing down my dinner. I'll have about a half hour to take a walk before I'll have to get back inside.

I slip outside, deciding to walk around the rim of the Forbidden forest, so that I won't run into any other students.

But a few minutes after I begin walking, I hear the sound of a guitar, and someone singing.

I peek my head around a bend in the path, and soon the rest of me follows.

I'm not sure what I'm doing, but it seems like the right thing to do.

A boy is sitting on a log laid across the path.

The boy doesn't notice me, so I am free to check him out as he sings some song along with his guitar.

He has light blonde hair and silver eyes, and I realize that he looks a lot like Scorpius.

He isn't, though.

He doesn't have that pointed chin like Scorpius, or that nose that is always upturned towards the sky. He doesn't wear excessive amounts of hair gel, either.

He looks rather nice, I think, and I mentally slap myself. My allegiance is to Scorpius!

One note rings through the air, and I realize that his pretty-sounding song must be over.

He'll see me! I think, and quickly turn and run away, my feet lightly touching the ground as I go.

(Lysander's point of view)

I look up from my precious guitar just in time to see a girl with flaming red hair running away from me.

How long has she been here? I wonder.

Did she like the song?

I snatch up my guitar and stuff the pick in my pocket, then run after the girl.

I don't know why, but I do. Thankfully I'm a fast runner, and I quickly catch up to her.

She seems to realize that there's no use in running, and she stops, breathing heavily.

"Who are you?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"Molly Weasley," she states, and her hand twitches, as if she has been taught to shake one's hand while introducing herself. "And you?" she adds.

"Lysander Scamander," I say.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you related to a Lorcan Scamander? You two look a lot alike."

"We're twins," I explain.

"I've never heard of you before," she says suspiciously.

"I prefer to stay out of the way. And what about you, I've never heard of you either," I say.

"My sister Lucy, she's a year younger than me, she usually takes up all the..." Molly trails off.

"Everything," I finish. "I know what you mean."

"You do?" she asks, "Oh, your brother."

"Yeah..." I trail off. "See you around?"

"Okay," she says, then bites her lip.

"What is it?" I ask.

Please don't have a boyfriend! Please, please, please! I find myself thinking.

"What song were you playing? On your guitar," Molly gestures at my instrument.

"Head Over Feet, by Alanis Morissette," I say hurriedly.

"It was nice," she tells me, then quickly steps away.

Leaving me utterly bewildered, with nothing but my guitar and what appears to be the beginning of a crush, on her.

I glance at my watch and swear.

It's ten minutes until curfew, and there's no way that I can make it in time.

This is just great, I think sarcastically.

Oddly enough, I'm not annoyed as much as I would've been.

Because I just met Molly Weasley.

Should I continue this? Please review, and give constructive criticism if you want; I've never written any 3rd generation stories before.