First of all, this is me trying something different, something less... dramatic and more teenage romance. If any of the writing or writing style is strange, that's because it is strange to me. Just wanted to clear that up. Also, I know that you (as a HP fan) will already know most of the information passed on in this chapter. Don't worry, it's only because I want to get some of Rose's personality across. ^_^

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Sometimes my life doesn't seem real. Scratch that. My life never seems real. How could it?

I'm Rose Weasley, the daughter and first born of—oh, come on, I'm sure you already know—Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

I've been famous since birth. Baby pictures on the front page of the Daily Prophet and all that. The world seems to think I'm special, but I'm really not. Seriously. Just because both of my parents are two of the most famous war heroes around doesn't mean I should get all of this attention. And that whole thing about them being The Boy Who Lived and Lived and Lived—you get the pattern, right?—Harry Potter's best friend? Well, being close with Harry shouldn't make them special. Okay, maybe it should. But it really shouldn't make me special.

To tell you the truth, the whole fuss is stupid. My parents are weird. Odd. Strange. Mental, even. I mean, come on. Dad's obsessed with the Chudley Cannons. Um, hello! The Cannons are one of the worst Quidditch teams out there. Why would anyone in their right mind like them? Oh, that's right. Dad isn't in his right mind.

Mum, on the other hand, is obsessed with books and learning. I really don't know why she was sorted into Gryffindor. With brains like hers, she should've been sorted into Ravenclaw the instant the Sorting Hat touched her head. Hell, even Slytherin would've been better. You know those stories about Dumbledore and Grindelwald and their whole "For the greater good"? Yeah, treating Muggleborns like scum was their idea. Oh, and Voldemort's "Magic is might"? He had the whole plan to kill Muggleborns, too. Mum's motto is along the same lines as theirs. I mean, come on! You'd think that being Muggleborn would steer her away from evil plans and all, but no! Mum's motto is "Knowledge is power". Weird, right?

So, that being said, my point is—why do people think I'm this loyal friend who knows absolutely everything? Okay, so maybe I am all that. But really, they always assume. And I find it rather rude.

Take, for instance, my best friend, Wren Hawkins. Why her parents decided to name her after a bird, I'll never know. Isn't it enough to already have a bird-ish last name? I mean, what if her last name was just Hawk? Wren Hawk? I've never met her parents, but I'm guessing they're just as eccentric as my own.

Oddly enough, Wren really is kind of bird-like. Not in a bad way, though. She's petite, sort of jumpy, quite energetic, and she can even sing well. Just like a bird. Is it bad of me to think of her like this? I'm sure she doesn't think I'm like a rose. Yeah, I have red hair, and a lot of personality layers—like petals, you know?—and I guess I even smell good, too. Or at least I hope I do. Merlin, what if I don't? What if I smell like… like… oh, I don't know… dragon dung or something?

Okay, getting back on topic… Last night, Wren took the liberty of assuming that I'm loyal and nice and incredibly smart. She asked me to help her out with something. Something big. You see, Wren wants me to help her get a guy. And this is how the conversation went.

WREN (Nervously): "Rose, I need your help."

ME (Through a mouth full of food): "With what?"

WREN (Cautiously): "With getting a guy?"

ME (With my mouth open and still full of food): "What? Who? Why?"

WREN (Flatteringly): "You see, I like this guy. Scorpius Malfoy. And you can do it, you're nice and loyal and you know just about everything. And come on, you're my best friend."

ME (Grinning, flattered, and stunned all at once): "Well, sure. I guess. That's what friends are for, right?"

So I, being really intelligent (yet having no common sense) agreed to help Wren flirt with Scorpius. We're going to send him little notes by owl. Cute, flirty notes from a secret identity. And that secret identity is going to be me. Pretending to be Wren. Brilliant, right? It was all my stupid, stupid idea. Why did I agree to this? That's right—because I'm nice and loyal and smart. And apparently I fall for flattery.

Okay. I know what you're probably thinking. You're probably thinking—what the heck is Quidditch? Who's Dumbledore and Grindelwald and Voldemort? What the hell is a Muggle? Who names their kids after birds and flowers? What kind of a name is Scorpius? And dragon dung? Dragons aren't even real. Who does this girl think she is?

I'll tell you who I am. I'm Rose Weasley, the girl with the red hot hair—literally. I'm also a witch and a sixth year Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That makes me sixteen years old, which is two years older than my brother Hugo. I'm also Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which, by the way is the best and only sport played on broomstick. Also, why are you asking me who I think I am? Who do you think you are? Not knowing Dumbledore and Grindelwald and Voldemort. I'd laugh if I weren't so seriously screwed. They're the greatest—and evilest, except for Dumbledore of course—Wizards of all time! You wouldn't know because you're a Muggle, a non-magic person. Being Muggle would also keep you from naming your kids after birds and flowers, because witches and wizards are just cool like that. And Scorpius is the coolest name ever. Oh, and dragons are real. Bet that shocked you.

One last little fact I think you should know—Malfoys and Weasleys don't mix. At all. Never have.

Never will.