A/N: I'm so annoyed at the internet. I was going to update yesterday but things involving servers and all manner of technical stuff came up, and I couldn't access the internet, so I'm quite angry. Anyhow, thanks for all the reviews, I get happier and happier everytime I open my inbox, you're all stars.

Disclaimer: I don't speak any other foreign language than French and Spanish (Latin so doesn't count) so, i will have to disclaim in english. I think people would have noticed if I owned the best known story character of all time, so it should be quite clear that I don't.

When you live in such close proximity to so many of your relatives, it is not easy to avoid them.

Add to this the fact that we're all invited to Hagrid's for tea on the first Saturday of each new term, and you'll find that it is absolutely impossible to steer clear of them.

The same way it is absolutely impossible to evade Malfoy, seeing as how he lives with me.

Hagrid has long since accepted the fact that it is impossible to fit at least nine Weasleys in his hut.

My parents and Uncle Harry, maybe, but not all of us.

So, the new tradition is a picnic by the lake, if it's not raining too badly, and the weather's fine today.

Al and I are the oldest now, so it's our responsibility to provide the food. Hagrid protests every year, but we've heard the stories of his rock cakes from our parents, and it was Teddy and Victoire who decided that nobody else should ever have to go through that particular trauma.

"Al" I say, as he tickles the pear in the painting that grants us access to the kitchens, "You do know that I love you, right?"

Al regards me with his head tilted to one side like an inquisitive puppy.

"Of course I know you love me Rose, and I love you right back"

I smile sadly, as the door appears in the wall and Al reaches out to grab the handle.

The house elves are only too happy to press three entire picnic baskets into our arms.

Something tells me that they'd pre-prepared the food for us; from the fact that there is a conspicuous lack of peanut butter, (Molly is allergic) to the personally monogrammed napkins rimmed in red and gold (Roxanne and I will fight over whose napkin is whose, as will Louis and Lucy.)

We all know that getting food out of the house elves isn't difficult, Uncle George was doing it thirty years before now, but Al and I never suspected that it'd all be pre-packaged.

The only job that we have to do is sit back and gratefully accept cups of tea and slices of lemon drizzle cake.

I can see the Weasleys and Hagrid sitting over on the other side of the lake.

Her hair is fluttering in the wind, and it's glittering in the autumn sunshine.

Even though she's one red head among a bunch of many, her hair still manages to look attractive and unique.

I'm still bothered by what she said to me last night.

And I'm not stalking her.

It's mere coincidence that we were at breakfast at the same time this morning.

And I'd already decided to go down to the lake this afternoon.

Her eyes flicker over to me, and I drop mine to the book that I've brought to keep me company.

But when I look up again she's still staring, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a little smile on her face; one that's not malicious or scary.

But then there's a shriek, and one of the other Weasleys is tickling mini-Potter mercilessly, so Rose is dragged into a family fight.

Sitting by the lake evokes contemplative thoughts in me, especially when I contrast myself, sitting on one side of the lake alone, to her, surrounded by family.

And that great body of water separates us.

Oh dear.

That sounds tragic.

Like that lovesick Muggle in her beloved play.

I don't care that we're different, in fact, the more different the better, because it keeps me from being attracted to her.

And being attracted to her would ruin my life.

I don't realise, but I've been sitting out here reading the same two pages for about four hours.

When I look over again it's just Rose left, lying back on the grass, and even from so far away, I can see her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes.

There's such a steady rhythm to the rising and falling, and it's so slow, that I'm sure she's asleep.

Looking all vulnerable underneath the open sky, I know that there's no way that she's ever going to hurt me.

She hasn't got it in her.

Everyone's left, and now that it's nearing five o' clock, I'm on my own, being at one with nature.

So at one, in fact, that I don't notice that that there's someone lying next to me until their breathing falls into a pattern with mine, and we're both so placid that our arms completely relax, and our fingers end up touching.

I sit up, and Malfoy's lying next to me, eyes closed, but with the ghost of a smirk still lining his face.

"Took you a while to realise I was here, Weasley" he murmurs, not opening his eyes, and barely altering his breathing pattern.

I surprise myself.

I take all the sarcastic comments that I can think of, and throw them onto a massive mental bonfire, before lying back down in the groove I'd created in the grass.

"Not going to run away screaming?" Malfoy drawls, but his heart's not in it.

"Why would I run away screaming from you, Malfoy?" I ask, and marvel at how incredibly weird the situation is.

"I don't know" he replies. "Because you seem to have been hiding from me for the past two days?"

And it's true.

I have.

But I don't know why, because he is just a seventeen year old boy, the same age as me.

"Yeah" I admit grudgingly. "But do you blame me, after what you've managed to say about me in the past week?"

There's a silence that is not awkward, as such, but is not entirely comfortable.

"Aren't you supposed to be punishing me for that anyway?" Malfoy asks finally.

"Maybe we can just hate each other on weekdays, Malfoy? Or days other than today. Today's been too perfect to ruin with petty fighting"

There's no reply, so I assume Malfoy agrees with our policy of 'Today is off limits' and I'll make it up by punishing him doubly tomorrow.

It's only ever Weasley who can make me do the unexpected.

Like kiss her, or lie next to her until darkness falls.

And worse than unexpected, whatever I do when she's around is unexplainable.

Doing things that are unexplainable is dangerous, because you can't excuse it, since you don't know for what reason you've done it.

That's another trait that Weasley instils in me: Complete Confusion.

I lie back next to her until the stars start to twinkle in the sky.

We don't say a word to each other for hours after our first brief conversation.

And we don't need to.

Eventually the coolness of the autumn day turns chilly and before long, she's shivering.

She leans forwards, as if she's getting up, but seems to think better of it.

Five minutes pass, in which her teeth begin to chatter.

"Aren't you going to go in?" I ask, and as I exhale, my breath condenses in the air around me.

"I'm not going in until you do"

At least, that's what I think she says, her voice is so disguised by her teeth chattering against each other.

"I thought that we were going to be vaguely civil today, Weasley?" I reply, noticing that whilst I'm wearing a jumper and jeans, she's wearing a short skirt and thin top, which is why she's so cold, and I'm not.

"This isn't a rival thing, Malfoy" she chatters, blowing on her fingers, which I swear are turning blue. "Well, it is, but our lives are still a competition, including this"

Rather than sit around arguing until her eyelashes have frosted over and she's diagnosed with hypothermia, I scoop the stubborn girl up in my arms, and stride back towards the castle, to complaints that are nowhere near as irate as they should be.

"That was a really stupid thing to do" Malfoy mutters, as he's laying me on the sofa. He flicks his wand at the fire while I struggle to sit up and speak.

"Lie back down, you dozy cow" he orders, and gives me a little shove.

My first instinct is to slap him back, but my brain is so slowed by cold that by the time that my hand is reacting, the moment has passed.

"What?" Malfoy arches an eyebrow. "It's not an unfounded accusation, is it? You lie outside all day, and half the evening in a skirt and tiny top and then you get mad at me when I rescue you?"

"I don't need rescuing, thank you very much Malfoy" I reply through gritted teeth.

Now that I'm less cold I can see him pacing up and down in front of the fireplace.

"Sit down Malfoy, you're making me nervous" I snap, irritated much more by the fact that Malfoy had to rescue me, rather than the fact that he's wearing a hole in the carpet.

"Stop being an ungrateful bitch and say thank you" Malfoy snarls, but he stops pacing, and looks at me with those piercing grey eyes of his.

I know when to admit defeat.

"Thank you for bringing me inside when I was acting like a spoilt brat, Malfoy" I intone grudgingly, and his eyes light up a little with surprise.

"It isn't a problem" he replies gruffly, looking everywhere in the room but at me.

"But don't go getting any ideas about me being indebted to you or anything" I warn, as I pull my knees up to my chest, and rub my legs.

He looks like he's going to ask again whether this little act of chivalry makes us even after the events of the past week, but he gets no further than opening his mouth.

Eventually, he looks me in the eye, and asks me straight,

"I suppose now wouldn't be the most opportune moment to ask if I could possibly borrow your Defence against the Dark Arts essay then?" and there's still a hint of hope in his voice.

Some days I just see past the audacity, and give in.

Weasley is observing me as I copy her essay into note form.

"You realise that if you'd just paid attention in the class in the first place then there would have been no need for you to come crawling to me to copy my essay?"

Weasley's tone is disapproving, yet she doesn't look it.

"Malfoy's don't crawl, Weasley" I reply evenly, even though she's being so ungracious. "I just need your help"

I go to add that she owes me, but I bite my tongue, knowing it's exactly what she wants.

The little smile tugging at the corner of her lips says that she'd love nothing more than for me to roll over and play dead.

But I'm not going to give her the satisfaction.

"So" she smiles wickedly. "If I were to do this?"

And in a flash she's rolled up the parchment, and is holding it in both hands behind her back.

I could sigh wearily.

I could snarl, seize my wand and summon the parchment back.

But I decide to play along, because she wants me to.

"I'd have to take it by force" I reply, seriously. "Otherwise Thomas is going to fail me, and I couldn't bear that now, could I?"

I'm sneaking closer and closer towards her, and she's still got that cheeky glint sparkling in her eyes that tells me that I can continue.

She starts to back towards a wall, and I can see the game that she's playing now.

I want to join in.

So the pair of us, never moving our eyes from one another, inch towards one of the walls of our sitting room, her hands still behind her back.

Once she's pressed right into the wall, I move my hands, so that they're snaking behind her waist, in an attempt to get at the essay that he's withholding from me.

"Nuh huh" Weasley scolds, her lips curling into the most kissable of smirks. "Not that fast, Malfoy"

She turns her head, and my face is so close to her that my lips brush her hair.

Her arms move from behind her back, dropping the parchment, but neither of us is pretending anymore.

I blink.

And I'm the one with my back to the wall, her wand at my throat.

Then, in a voice so cold and hard that the Dark Lord himself would be proud, she mutters,

"Imperio"