a/n: This is Beater 2 checking in for Round 13 of the QLFC.

Word count before a/n: 1,524 words

Prompts: Lamp, "I will eat that damn muffin if it kills me," and "revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles"

I also had to write a story about a friendship that crossed generations. (Season 3, Round 2)

I am not J.K. and this is not her work.


Hugo had his hand wrapped firmly around his sister's wrist. The snow was falling gently, catching in their matching ginger curls like little bits of confetti thrown from up above. Rose was trailing behind him, letting him drag her through the streets of Hogsmeade, a rag doll with a blank, almost porcelain look on her face.

The night was settling in over the town, and the two of them should not have been there, seeing that they were still students and it was most certainly not a Hogsmeade weekend. It was, in fact, a Tuesday. But the pale circles surrounding his sister's eyes meant they had to break a few rules, if only this one time.

"Come on, lazy," Hugo yanked Rose so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder. "I can't drag you everywhere today. You can walk still."

Rose hmphed at him, but slowly pulled her hand away from his grip, walking adjacent to him and almost surpassing his strides.

Finally, he thought. Hugo did, however, step in front of her so that he could lead her to their final destination: The Three Broomsticks. Only one place could cheer Rose, Hugo had decided that morning. And only one person would know exactly how to help a broken heart.

The fourth year wrapped his fingers around the handle of the tavern door, pushed on the heavy oak wood, and entered. He paused as the slew of patrons looked over at the pair of students clearly breaking curfew, but no one stopped him or Rose, so he lead the way over to the counter.

"Hullo, Hugo! What seems to be the the matter?" The cheery barmaid slammed down two mugs of butterbeer: one for him and one for Rose. She was watching his sister with a raised eyebrow, her hands on her hips, a sympathetic look in her brilliant orange eyes. This, right there, was why he loved Rosmerta. She just knew.

Rosmerta was Hugo's first real friend at Hogwarts—which he was both grateful for and a little bit embarrassed. He was the youngest out of all his cousins, so when he finally got to school, no one really seemed to notice or care anymore about the great Weasley-Potter tribe. Not that Hugo wanted the attentions of fame. He just wanted some friends.

So, for the first few years, Hugo contented himself with excessive studying and simply following around his cousins Lily and Louis. They were only a year ahead of him, so it was easy to just tag along like he did at home.

During his third year, however, when Hogsmeade visits were encouraged, Hugo started to realize just how lonely he was. He had wound up at The Three Broomsticks, alone, and instead of sitting pathetically by himself at a table, he snagged a bar stool right from under a surly wizard's nose. The man, in turn, tried to whack Hugo off the stool, but Madame Rosmerta came to his rescue. She threw out the older man and spent the better half of three hours talking to Hugo and running the place.

Hugo loved her instantly. She was older, with grey hair and pumpkin-colored eyes. She laughed like it felt good and she spoke with a gentle authority that reminded Hugo of his Gran. Suddenly, talking to people and being himself didn't seem like such a daunting task. He wasn't just another Weasley-Potter to Rosmerta. He was Hugo. Which was why he knew his friend could help Rose now.

"Rosmerta, this is my sister," Hugo said. "And Rose, this is Madam Rosmerta. She—"

"Runs The Three Broomsticks. Yes, I know," Rose said, her lips thin and her face apprehensive. If only she knew what was in store, Hugo thought.

"Rose had a rough weekend," Hugo pulled his mug close to his lips and drank a long, warm sip. "Her boyfriend cheate—"

"Oi! Hugo!" Rose pushed his mug away from him, sending it across the counter and into an ornate oil lamp sitting on the end of the counter. The mug smashed on contact and the amp started to sail to the floor.

"Oh no, not today, dearie," Rosmerta's hand quickly shot out and grabbed the lamp mid-fall. When she righted the object, she quickly magicked away the mess, and turned toward Hugo and Rose again, her eyebrows raised.

Hugo could feel his sister tensing beside him, embarrassed and upset, and for a split second he was afraid he did overstep the imaginary boundary she liked to draw between them. But one wink from Rosmerta, and Hugo knew he was doing right by Rose.

"Cheated, eh? Tosser." Rosmerta filled another mug for Hugo. "I reckon you've chucked him, right then?"

Rose looked at Hugo and back to Rosmerta. Her mouth hung open and her eyebrows were knit. Then she rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and buried her head in her arms on top of the tavern's countertop.

"He was snogging this really wretched girl, and Rose walked in on them," Hugo told Rosmerta. The older woman shook her head, her tongue clicking against her teeth. Hugo waited for Rose to continue, but she was buried in her arms. With one last look, he turned back to Rosmerta to explain. "She and this bloke, Edmund, were going for a few months. They weren't even friends before, and then he was doing all that—stepping out, probably from the beginning. Rose's been a mess. Her best friend can't even get her to eat."

"I just don't have an appetite," Rose mumbled. "I keep telling Scorp that, but he doesn't listen."

She slowly lifted her head, her eyes peeking out from behind her curtain of hair dampened by the snow. "And apparently you won't listen either."

"That's a tough one, ennit?" Rosmerta chimed in. "But, lovie, you can't stop eating. That's no good. Here, let me grab you something from the kitchens, and we'll talk this out, yeah."

Once Rosmerta left, Rose pounced.

"What were you thinking, Hugo! When you said you were going to cheer me up, I thought we were going to smuggle a few firewhiskeys from The Hog's Head, not sit and talk to your creepy girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend?"

"Oh, please, Hu. I know you sit and talk with her all the time when it's an actual Hogsmeade weekend. She's like, your only friend, or something," Rose rolled her eyes, again, and Hugo felt like maybe if she just kept doing it, the action might start to mean something. Alas, it did nothing but infuriate him. He was trying his best to help her.

"Listen, give Rosmerta a shot. She's a great listener," Hugo pushed Rose's butterbeer toward her. "And I'll ignore the no-friends dig this time. You know very well I've got friends now. But, yeah, maybe Rosmerta is one of them. And I don't see anything wrong there. So give her a chance."

Hugo did make friends, real friends, once he started to stand his own. His best mate August was always over at his house during breaks, and the Quidditch team members usually studied together. He'd found his place. He just needed a little time to adjust, and Rosmerta gave him that. Rose needed that now more than ever. "Just talk to her. Please. I'm—I'm really worried about you, Rose."

"There we are!" The siblings both turned back to the barmaid. Rosmerta placed a large red velvet muffin in front of Rose, complete with cream cheese icing and red sprinkles. "I always say revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles."

"Revenge?" Rose asked tentatively. She was pulling off the sprinkles one at a time and popping them into her mouth.

"Sure," said Rosmerta. "The quicker you recover from what he did, the better the revenge."

"I don't exactly follow."

"Well," Rosmerta leant down on her elbows, her face close to Rose's. Hugo leaned in too, conspiratorially. "You're darling ex can't win. He can't have this hold on you, now can he? Because you did nothing wrong, lovie, and not eating is only admitting you've been defeated. But, eating and going on about your day, that'll show him."

"But isn't that just masking the pain?" Rose asked.

"Oh of course not!" Rosmerta stood again. Hugo smiled, watching his sister take in the wonder that was Rosmerta. "You get to feel your pain, dear. And you should, every ounce. Because that's the only way you'll start to heal. But that doesn't mean he has to see your pain too."

Hugo watched as Rose began to smile. "You really think that'll do anything?

"Rose, I have seen countless students walk through those doors. I know a thing or two about navigating a guilty conscience."

Rose giggled. "In that case, I will eat that damn muffin if it kills me."

"It better not kill you," Rosmerta said. "I made 'em myself."

Hugo sat back and watched as the two talked at length about that stupid Edmund, all the while observing two very distinct parts of his life converge. Maybe after this, Rose wouldn't ease him as much, Hugo thought. He also hoped she'd be a little bit happier too.