Rose Weasley is many things:

She is bright, and a fast learner, always the first in their year to successfully transfigure a teacup into a rat, or to brew a particularly nasty potion.

She is loud, and witty, and loves arguing in the Slytherin common room, hands on her hips and red-brown hair flying wild, freckles standing out more than ever against her fair skin, pale blue eyes flashing with something like anger and something like amusement.

She is midnight explorations of the school- especially the forbidden bits!- beneath the cover of Al's cloak and by the light of Scorpius's Hand of Glory.

She is subtle snarky comments during class time, a ghost of a smirk lingering on her lips as she watches Al and Scor try hard not to choke on their smothered laughter. The ghost of a smirk turns into a full blown grin when her two best friends invariably fail to avoid the professor's notice, and fluster and bluster their way through the interrogation as to what exactly is so amusing, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy.

She is the broomstick flying far too fast, as she steers solely with her knees, using both arms to swing her Beater bat with more strength than anyone would think such a small frame could possess, absolutely smashing the bludger straight at the Gryffindor seeker (James and Lily will get her for that later, she knows, but right now she is too high on adrenaline to care), and she is shrieks of excitement and crows of triumph as she and Scor- clutching the runaway snitch- and the rest of the Slytherin team embrace midair during their victory lap around the Quidditch pitch.

She is the face turned away, eyes hidden by her mess of hair as she absolutely refuses to cry, and finds to her dismay that willpower sometimes isn't enough; she is the two small hands pummeling everyone in her path, trying to push away sympathetic murmurs and staring eyes as she hides in her fortress built of books, and only emerges, frosty as a Snow Queen, when she is good and ready, and not an instant before .

She is thorns and bramble and rough and tumble and piercing blue eyes that are always two steps ahead of anyone else in the room. She's a lot of things.

But Rosie is nothing if not logical. Her mind is quick, and sharp, and she analyzes and comprehends more than most people ever manage to see at all. She is careful contemplation of all possibilities and objective weighing of pros and cons and paths of action. She is a Slytherin after all: coolly calculating, and possessing the rare talent to take a step back from the situation, to consider how to best turn it to her advantage, to achieve her goals. Clever and resourceful and stubborn as mule, with a certain pointed disregard for the rules, that's Rosie.

So it really shouldn't surprise anyone, least of all Al, who has known her the longest, and Scor, who arguably knows her the best, that Rose Ariana Weasley is a fan of lists. Every major decision of her life to date – what classes to sign up for at the end of second year; whether or not to spend a term abroad at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang during their fourth year; what present to ask for as a reward for being named Slytherin prefect alongside Al; what career to aim for and which NEWTs to pursue; whether or not to transfigure all of Uncle Neville's mimbus mimbletonia into miniature Whomping Willows and levitate them into James and Freddie's dormitory in Gryffindor tower while they slept- had come with an obligatory list of reasons why or why not, pros and cons.

And really, this could potentially be the biggest, most important, life changing decision of her life. So a list it is. It is sitting on her desk in her dormitory, the one the boys can't enter, thank sweet Salazar, because sometimes a girl needs her privacy, thank you very much. Elle Zabini, Daisy Flint, and Rebecca Nott know better by now- they have been dorming together for almost six years, after all- than to touch Rose's desk. She has all kinds of enchantments to discourage nosy busybodies, and none of them are pleasant. Elle still hasn't quite forgiven her for hex back in second year that Vanished all the hair on her head, but made the hair on her arms grow at a ridiculous rate. Even if someone were to look at The List (as she has taken to calling it in her mind), all they would see is a sketch of the view from the dormitory window. She is a pro at concealing charms; The List is only legible to her eyes.

So Rose is a teensy bit paranoid. But if anyone were to discover The List, it would be exceeding embarrassing and would put her in a compromising situation. And Rose, like every good Slytherin, is keen to avoid compromising situations at any cost. So paranoia it is.

She sighs, and pushes her wild hair out of her eyes, and rereads The List for the umpteenth time, quill hovering over the parchment to add anything she may have missed.

Reasons why I cannot fall in love with Scor.

1. Dad will drop dead of a heart attack when he finds out, and he will promptly turn into a ghost haunting the halls of Hogwarts until we break up. And he'll have to find out eventually; if I don't tell him, Hugo will. If Hugo doesn't tell him, James will. If James doesn't tell him... well, that's a moot point. There's no way James can keep something like this to himself. Even if, by some act of God, James doesn't tell him, I have a whole list of male cousins who will.

2. Scor's father. I've never met Mr. Malfoy, not exactly (I've seen him before. I've hear Dad hiss his name and Mum roll her eyes. I've never talkedto him, or been introduced, or anything), but from how Scor describes him, he's a lot like Dad: proud, and blustering, and terribly, terribly old fashioned. And Scor loves him as much as I love Dad. I'm scared (I'm not a Gryffindor, there's nothing wrong with admitting fear) that Mr. Malfoy won't approve of me. Deep down, Scor wants his approval. By extension, I want his approval too. What if he can't see past my name and my face?

3. He's my best friend, aside from Al, and Al doesn't really count because he's my cousin and is required to love me (case and point: despite everything, I still love James). I like the dynamic of our relationship right now: teasing, and taunting and competing and being best friends. If I let myself fall in love, that will change. And there will be no turning back. Is it worth risking something so precious for something so unsure?

4. Al. I don't want to put him in an awkward position, being a third wheel (provided that Scor reciprocates my feelings, of course), but isn't that the natural course of things if I fall for Scorpius? Al will never really forgive me, and the last thing anyone on this earth wants is an unforgiving Albus Potter.

5. All the damn drama and gossip that will trail any relationship between us for the rest of our lives. It's hard enough just being friends; all those silly reporters for Witches Weekly trying to subtly eavesdrop on us at Hogsmeade, all the cameras pointing when we're spotted at Diagon Alley together. "Starcrossed Lovers: Weasley and Malfoy Edition." Ick. How petty can some people get? I'd like to be able to walk into a shop without seeing badly taken photos of my face plastered on tabloids.

6. We wouldn't last, and is it worth it to risk so much for something so temporary? Statistically speaking, it's only a matter of time (the average duration of a relationship at Hogwarts is approximately 4.6 months. And that's excluding all "relationships" that last less than 24 hours because of love potions and what not) before we break up. And that average might be too high for us because, well, because he's Scor and I'm Rose and that is that. He is ice and I am fire, and would that work? It works when we're friends, because we balance each other out, and we are both mature enough to respect each other's opposing views, but will it continue to work if I look at him as more than a friend, or would we shatter apart?
From what I know about me, and what I know about him, we would shatter.

7. His eyes, and the way that they already make me lose my train of thought, and I'm not even really in love with him yet. If I fall, will I be always reduced to a flustering, bumbling fool around him, all blushes (I am hideous when I blush. It clashes with my hair) and stuttering and nonsense? I sure as hell don't want that.

8. The fact that practically every girl in Hogwarts has a crush on Scorpius. It's overdone and bad for his ego; the very last thing he needs is for me to regress into being one of 'those girls.' I don't know if love makes you blind to a person's faults, because Scor is not perfect, not by a long shot, and he needs me to remind him of that fact. Often. Will I be able to do that with any semblance of authority and without being ridiculously hypocritical if I fall for him too?

9. Falling for your best friend, or for the "forbidden love" is so damn cliché. I'm not a cliché. I am anything but a cliché, by Merlin's pants. I'm complicated, damn it, and I refuse to be confined into some age old love story motif. How typical. I am anything but typical.

10. He doesn't like me back, anyway. He sees me as a best friend and a friendly rival, practically as a kid sister or a cousin. Totally platonic. So it would be hopeless to hope, right? Why waste my time?

Thank Godric her handwriting is miniscule, else she never would have fit all that on one roll of parchment. She nods a little bit, mostly satisfied with her list, and turns over a new role of parchment and continues scribbling away.

Reasons To Love the Aforementioned SHM

1. The way that he always reverts to calling me "Weasley" during the week of exams, and the way that he says it with a half grin on his face, like he's trying not to laugh. I call him "Malfoy" during that week, just so that everyone knows that we are competing, and there is no way in hell that he's going to beat me on any test. I love the way that having him as a rival makes me work all the harder and do all the better. He pulls out my potential, I know, and I love him for it. He's usually right behind me in year rankings; he's the only one who has ever tied with me on an exam (Defense Against the Dark Arts, Third Year), after all. There is no way in bloody hell I'm giving him a chance to do it again.

2. The fact that he is the only one who will stay to listen when I start to rant on something interesting or thought provoking that I've read. Al will stay, but he normally falls asleep, or pretends to, just as I'm getting to the good part. Scor listens, really listens, to everything I say; it's gotten to the point where he asks me to hold off continuing the rant until he's checked out the book from the library as well, so we can have an actual discussion and not just a lecture. I love having someone to talk to about deep things or obscure research, and I love that I don't feel like I'm burdening him, forcing his interest, at all. He is interested too, and we both enjoy our late night discussions in the kitchens, over some Butterbeer, about conserving the delicate habitat of the demiguise, or the moral and ethical implications of the vanishing charm.

3. The fact that he didn't tease me when he found out my boggart was a mirror. Not that I'm afraid of silvered glass: I'm just terrified that I am no more than the girl I see in my reflection. I'm scared stiff at the thought that that's all other people see me as- a miniature of my mother, my father. The smart girl. The heroes' child. I'm more than that. I've got to be. Scor didn't laugh or tease (Al did. A little. And he was entitled to it, because no one understands my fear better than Al does) or belittle my fear, tell me that I was being silly to think that. He just nodded silently, and accepted it, and I loved him for that.

4. The way he spent his entire stay at the Burrow, the summer after our third year, in Grandpa Arthur's shed, tinkering with all the Muggle toys and knick-knacks. He even chased Mum down, to have her explain "ecklectricity" and "computterers" to him, and he begged her and Dad to teach him how to operate a Muggle car. He promptly crashed into Grandmother Molly's hedge, scaring all the gnomes. He was so flustered and embarrassed and sheepish when he got out of the car, it was so adorable. (that was the first time I thought of Scor in terms of "cute" or "handsome" or "attractive." My exact thought, I believe, was "Oh, that's why all those girls at school think he's cute. Maybe they're not completely psychotic.")

5. The way he let me cry on his shoulder when Hugo and I got the news that Nana, Mother's mum, had passed away. He even went to the funeral with us, and though he was thoroughly bewildered by the Muggle ceremonies, and even if I could tell he was bursting with a thousand questions to ask, he had the good sense and decency and kindness to keep his mouth shut and let me cry. And he didn't let go of my hand once.

6. The way we argue in front of everybody in the common room, at least once a week, hurling insults and hexes across the green chaise lounges, and the way everyone is scared silly, thinking that we might actually mean what we're saying.

7. The way that he has never, ever, gone easily on me when we play wizard's chess, or during Quidditch practice, or ever. He has never once tried to keep me from doing something I want to, despite how dangerous it might become (a prime example: the way we snuck into the Forbidden Forest during fifth year, just to see if we could find a unicorn. Or how he and Al and I worked all through fourth year to become unregistered animagi, just so we could say we discovered how when we were even younger than Al's late grandfather had been). He has never given me some kind of crap excuse like "It's too dangerous" or "But you're a girl" or "I want to keep you safe, protect you." Instead, Scor has always been there, right next to me, on whatever adventure we might embark on and in whatever trouble we may land ourselves into. Screw chivalry. I'm not some damsel in distress, and Scor respects that. I love that, love that he treats me as his equal in everything, that he relies on me, and that I know I can rely on him.

8. The way that he always knows exactly how to make me laugh after I've had a crap day, and where to look for me when no one else can find me (usually when I'm being passive-aggressive and hiding because I don't want to see people, but I want to be cared about enough to be looked for), and how to talk to me to draw me out from my books. Before Scor, Al was the only one who could do that, and I used to worry about what I would do when we grew up, because Al would have some wife and wouldn't have time to pacify his favorite cousin whenever she worked herself into a tizzy fit. Scor makes all those fears disappear.

9. The way that he always manages to charm our way out of detentions. That's real magic, only without the spells and the wandwork, just normal English and his deep sweet voice and big mist-gray eyes... even I find myself entranced, sometimes, and Al has to pull me out of it so I can add my logic to back up his magic words, or so Al and I can finish raiding the kitchens or setting up our next elaborate prank. Only two of us fit under the cloak nowadays, so Scor always volunteers to be the decoy. He is so calm and collected and charming under pressure, that it kills me.

10. The way that the tips of his ears turn red when he's embarrassed, and the way he bites his bottom lip when he's thinking really hard, and how his head tilts a bit to the left when he's listening, and how he cups his hands and rests his chin upon them when he's bored, and how he bites his nails when he's nervous, and dances around like a loonie on his tiptoes when he's excited, how the right corner of his mouth goes just a bit higher than the left when he smiles for real, not that stiff polite fake smile, or the arrogant smirk he's so good at, and how when he's really, really laughing, he throws his entire head back, elongating the line of his throat. The way that he gestures wildly when he's excited or passionate, how he always falls asleep during astronomy class so Al has to poke him awake again, how he's the only one who can stomach Hagrid's rock cakes. Every little damn detail about him, really. Damn.

She bites the end of her quill and sighs. It is half past midnight, and she has ten valid points on each list.

So the question remains: To love Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, or not to love Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy?

Perhaps she will be able to think better in the kitchens. She usually thinks more clearly there: it reminds her of her mother's kitchen (only with house elves instead of Hermione), where she used to do her homework at the kitchen table when she was small and went to a Muggle elementary school and the hardest question she had to solve involved long division, not blonde haired boys with laughing grey eyes a girl can just melt into... That, and the elves will be eager to fix her a feast, and all this thinking makes a girl hungry.

She rolls up her lists, tucks them under her arm, and heads out to the kitchen. She's not using the cloak- that's with Al right now, and right now she doesn't want to wake the boys and have to explain where she's going and why- but there is more than one way to be invisible.

She heads to the kitchen, to think.