Dislcaimer: Ain't own potter properties kid. If I did, harry'd be dead and Luna would be with Neville. Eat that, griddles.
3
Rose stared at her ceiling at the slowly circulating stars her mum had charmed there. How could this happen? She rolled over and put her face on her cool pillow. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth. This was so…wrong. Her hands clenched her blanket. She heard a pop in the kitchen. Bloody hell. Someone had come after her. It was so typical. She just hoped it wasn't…
"Rosie?"
Vicky.
"Rosie, are you ok?" Vicky stood in the door to Rose's room, the floor creaking under her feet.
"I'm fine," Rose said, not even looking at her.
"I know you aren't."
Vicky came into the room and sat down on her desk chair. Rose let go of the blanket and rolled onto her back, her eyes fixating on a star. She struggled with her anger, subduing it as best she could. She did not want to talk with Vicky. Vicky put her hand on Rose's arm, trying to coax her out of her shell. Rose pulled away from her.
"Rose…"
"It's nothing!"
"Both of us know it's not nothing!"
Rose tilted her head and gazed at her cousin -- her eyes narrowed and jaw set. Rose wasn't going to win. She never did. There was a certain stubbornness that she was lacking. Vicky's blue eyes slightly darkened; she was extraordinarily angry.
"Why did you come?" Rose asked bitterly.
"You know someone was going to come after you; you're not sick. I figured you'd prefer to talk with me than our dad."
"Well, you're wrong." The words sounded foreign to both of them; since when did Rose want to bare her soul to her uptight, prude of a father? Their conversations always ended with him blushing furiously, muttering about where her mum was.
"Since when?" Vicky said.
"Since you decided to run of and become a bloody slag!" Rose shouted, sitting up on her bed. Immediately, she regretted her words. Vicky slumped back in the chair, her eyes returning to their usual blue, appearing surprised.
"So that's what it's about?" Vicky said, her voice catching in her throat.
"You didn't even tell me!"
"I…I thought your mum would have…"
"Well, she didn't, did she? And neither did you! How many letters did you send? How many times did I ask you if something was up? You never told me! And you can't do this. What are you thinking? Is that why you never showed up for the dinner May second? You didn't want to tell us? Damn it! You're barely twenty!"
"Rose…"
"Just…just stop, ok? It doesn't matter anymore."
"Rose, I'm sorry, alright? I honestly thought they told you. And you know my family went to France in May."
"Whatever."
"Rose! Come on, you can't be angry with me."
"Why can't I?
"It was a mistake, Rose. It's like me getting angry at you for spilling milk."
"Look…just forget it," Rose said, crossing her arms. "I don't want to talk about this."
"I don't want you to be mad at me for reasons beyond my control!"
"I don't really think it matters what you want."
"Rose!"
Rose rolled over and planted her face in her pillow. She did not want this conversation to progress. At all. She was a Weasley, raised in the culture of absolute stubbornness and arrogance. But so was Vicky. And, unlike Rose, she had the genes to back it up.
"What's your problem?" Vicky demanded.
"You didn't tell me," Rose mumbled, her voice muffled by her pillow. She wished she could sink into the bed, disappear, evade the conversation.
"I haven't told you things before."
"You promised me in second year we wouldn't keep anything from each other. What is this? You kept it from me. I…I can't…it wasn't supposed to work like this. You should have told me."
Vicky sighed, remembering it. Rose had been crushed when she completely realized Vicky wasn't going back to Hogwarts after she graduated. They had promised to write copiously -- the two oldest Weasley girls maintaining a tight correspondence. And they did. Vicky got a detailed account of Fred and James's antics, Rose's classes, and her slight arguments with other girls. Rose got Vicky's advice, tales of training with St. Mungo's, and even the progression of Vicky and Teddy's relationship until they mutually decided to split up -- about six months ago. They had no restrictions. It made Rose feel less alone; she was much more like Vicky than Molly, and she idolized her older cousin.
"What do you want me to say?" Vicky asked, her voice gentle.
"Nothing."
"Well, then," Vicky said, hauling herself off the chair, "if nothing I say is going to change your stubborn Weasley mind, I'm going back to the Burrow."
Rose didn't move, listening to her squeak down the hallway, pause for a moment in the kitchen, and disapparate with a crack.
3
Rose leaned against the counter of Uncle George's shop in Diagon Alley, idly flipping through a magazine. Fred and James were with Uncle Ron in Hogsmeade, setting up another joke shop. Lucky bastards. Did they have to wear the hideous neon outfits? Ludicrous and ugly? No. They got to wear muggle clothes. Why didn't she get to wear muggle clothes?
"Hello, Rose," Roxy, the ten-year old cousin, said, popping up at Rose's elbow.
"What do you want?" Rose asked, her voice strained.
"I don't know." Roxy sighed and climbed into the stool, resting her chin on the counter. "What do you want?"
"To do my job," Rose replied, flipping the page.
The bell over the door tinkled. Rose looked up. A kid, probably only fourteen or fifteen, came into the shop and walked up to the counter.
"Er…hey…I was told by Mr. Weasley he was looking for some help…"
"Right," Rose said, abandoning her magazine. "Roxy, go get your father."
Roxy groaned and slipped from the stool and ran up the stairs.
"So you think you have what it takes to work for Weasleys?" Rose asked, gazing at the boy. He was fairly tall, certainly not taller than her dad, but still a respectable height. He wore clothes like Dom -- relaxed but clean -- and had a Harpie's hat on. She shook her head and turned her attention back to her magazine.
"So…what're you reading?" he asked, leaning on the counter.
"Quidditch Quarterly," Rose answered drolly, turning the page.
"Ah, so you're a quidditch gal?" he said. "You're not on a team at Hogwarts, are you?"
"No."
"Who do you follow?"
"Cannons."
He snorted.
"They're in a rebuilding year," Rose said coldly. "Most of their players are rookies. Comparing to the Harpies, full of vets, they're doing quite well. The Harpies should get the cup this year, but they're not. They got knocked out by...oh, who was it again? Oh, yes, the Cannons."
She glanced up at him, wondering how he would respond to her challenge. He just grinned and shook his head.
"I play beater for Ravenclaw," he said.
"So you know Al, then?" Rose said.
"Who doesn't know Al Potter? Best seeker Ravenclaw has ever seen. And the way things are going, next year Hugo Weasley's going to be quite the keeper."
"Yeah…if you can get him to give up chaser aspirations."
"Oh, I know he will. He's a smart fellow."
It was Rose's turn to snort. Hugo may be book-smart, but he lacked a certain logic.
"Ah, Greg!" Uncle George said, coming quickly down the stairs, Roxy following close behind him. "I am truly glad you could make it. Met my niece, I see? She's Ron's daughter."
"Oh," Greg said, staring at Rose. "You don't look like a Weasley…"
Rose glared at him; she hated it when people commented on her not "looking like" a Weasley. What was that even supposed to mean? She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she? She had the name, didn't she? She had a bit of a temper usually, didn't she? She was a bloody Weasley, no matter what anyone said.
"Errr…yeah…Look, Greg, I'll have to fill you on some…protocol…but never suggest Rose isn't a Weasley. Fastest way to the end of her wand, and that's the last thing you want. Trust me. Come with me and we'll get you outfitted and show you where everything is."
The pair of them left the show floor, Roxy giggling as they watched them go.
"He's kind of cute," Roxy said, climbing back up on the stool.
"Whatever, Roxy," Rose said, getting back to her article on the Harpies.
"You don't think he is?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Why would I?"
"Because he's tall and…and…"
"Is that all you got, Roxy?"
"Hmmph," Roxy grunted angrily.
The young girl reached into a drawer and pulled out her magazine -- Teen Witch. Rose rolled her eyes at the picture of Andrea Swod, the new keeper for the Harpies. She was such a…an overrated hussy. She didn't even do her job well enough against the Cannons. The Cannons! Ludicrous. Not worth the time. Sometimes, Rose had difficulty believing Fred and Roxy were of the same spawn. Groaning, Rose started reading an article about the only person left in the magazine, the spawn of the devil, Andrea Swod.