What a jerk, she thought. What a total, complete idiot. How could anyone survive this long while being so dumb?

Not that he was stupid. No, he was quite smart. Always knew the answer in class, always had the spells down perfectly. He was arguably as smart as she was, though his grades were slightly worse.

But despite this intelligence, the boy was really, truly and thoroughly dumb.

They were Head Boy and Girl, so they were supposed to get along. She made an effort to be nice with him, to try and work through their differences so they could effectively keep the school in line.

He made no such effort.

Almost every day, it seemed, they were getting in fights about something or other. One day it was that he hadn't reassigned a patrol as he was supposed to, the next it was that she had done it for him.

"You're always doing other people's work, Weasley! Let me do my own bloody stuff!"

"I can't, Malfoy, because if I leave it to you it doesn't get done!"

He frowned and crossed his arms. She put her hands on her hips and glared.

"You're not giving me a chance to do my work. How am I supposed to do it if you've already done?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "And how about all those times when I left you to it and it didn't get done?"

"No such time." He was still frowning at her.

She actually laughed at this. "Malfoy, are you kidding me? What about when we were organizing patrols for December, and you said you'd figure out the ones that fell over the holiday? Jenny nearly missed the train home because she thought she had to be here to keep the regular patrol schedule, because you didn't organize the special patrols. Or when the Slytherin prefects were taking turns skipping the occasional patrol, and you were supposed to put a stop to it because they're from your own bloody house? It continued for another month, until I had a talk with them about it."

His frown deepened under her glare. "Look, you don't understand. I have a lot I'm responsible for now, sometimes things slip through the cracks—"

"Malfoy. Don't even give me that crap. We're both seventh years, we play on our house Quidditch teams, we're in all the same classes, and we're both studying for NEWTS. What have you got to deal with that I haven't as well? And you don't see me forgetting important things like that."

"Well, we can't all be Little Miss Perfect, can we now?" He turned and strode towards the door, slamming it behind him.

She waited a moment to make sure he wasn't coming back, then burst into tears and sank to the carpet in their shared common room.

He was so dense, that boy. He just didn't understand people at all.

But Rose couldn't help herself.

She was in love with the twerp, had been for years. Somehow, no matter how hard she'd tried, she couldn't make herself forget about him.

It was worse this year, now that they were both Heads together. She had to see him all the time, had to interact with him every day and try to make things work between them, even though it was obviously his goal to make everything as difficult as possible.

If only he would have just the slightest sense that she was a person, too. And it seemed that he did, sometimes.

Which only made things worse. Given hope, and then having it jerked forcefully away from her, put Rose in such a mood sometimes that she didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream or just sit there and stare at the wall.

On the train home for Christmas, he chose to sit in the compartment with her rather than going to join his other friends. They spent the entire ride home talking and joking and laughing, and generally getting along. She felt for sure that it was a turning point in their relationship, that they would be able to move forward together, as friends. And possibly turn into more than friends.

When they returned from break, though, everything was back to the way it usually was. He was snarky and distant, continuing to take his duties as Head Boy less than seriously, and it fell to her to pick up all the slack.

She was damn tired of it.

So she tried to talk to him about it. Tried to get him to hold up his end, to do what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to do it. She had envisioned a polite, civil conversation, wherein she calmly and maturely discussed her unhappiness, and he calmly and maturely accepted it, and they worked together to find a solution.

It didn't quite happen like that.

"Malfoy, can I talk with you for a moment?"

"Alright, I suppose, but be fast about it. I have things to do," came the terse reply.

Rose hesitated momentarily, then continued. "Actually, that's exactly what I need to talk to you about. Your 'things to do.' Because, Malfoy, a lot of them aren't getting done."

He sighed impatiently and turned towards the door. "If I'd known this was what you wanted to talk about, I'd never have let you start. Haven't we done this before?"

"Yes, we have," she said, catching his arm and pulling him to a stop. "But it didn't change anything."

"So, why does something have to change?"

"Because you're not doing your part!"

"Why should I, when you do my part so well anyway?"

She gaped at him. Did he actually have the nerve to suggest that she do all the work?

Apparently, he did.

"I mean, come on, Weasley. You do everything that I do, as you pointed out to me earlier, and you do it better. So since you do what I don't anyway, why don't I just let you take care of Head business? It would be done better that way, and then I could spend more time with Emily."

Emily. Of course. His girlfriend. The one he broke up with and got together with, as regularly as the tides. The one he was sappy with and smug about, the one he couldn't help but bring up.

She'd thought nothing he could say would hurt her, but she was wrong. How many times had she wished she was that one? The one who he looked at with eyes glazed over, the one who could drive him to distraction, the one who had him for as long as she wanted him.

Forever.

"Malfoy, I'm through asking you. Do your own work or I'll report you to McGonagal. Last warning."

He looked incredulous. "Why would you report me? We're supposed to work together, not turn on each other!"

"Exactly. Together. Which only works if we both do our work."

"I will do my work whenever and however I wish to, Weasley. I have nothing more to say on the subject," he said coldly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to find my girlfriend. She's someone who actually makes me happy, which is certainly something I need right now. That's the thing about you, Weasley. Somehow you always put me in the worst mood. Don't bring this up again, or I'll tell Professor Longbottom about how you cover up for your family when you catch them breaking the rules."

She gasped in fury. "I do no such thing! You know very well that I'm always fair, I always do the right thing, including giving my family detentions when they deserve it!"

"Yes," he said, "But does Professor Longbottom?"

"He'll listen to me when I tell him you're wrong," she said defensively.

"Not after I'm done with him. Now run along, Weasley, and take your attitude elsewhere. I hate having you around." And with that, he strode out of the room.

Rose waited a few moments before allowing the tears to spill from her eyes. He always had the power to hurt her, no matter how much she swore otherwise. Sometimes she could just clock the boy in the head.

He hated her.

She hated that.

But there was no way she could change it.

A/N: Okay, here's my new story. And here's a question for you all: should I write another chapter, of Rose and Scorpius when they're grown up and out of school? And should I get them together eventually, or just leave it all angsty and unfullfilled? Leaves responses in reviews please!

Love,

Star