A/N: I have searched everywhere, and read every HP book over and over agian for a good description of the Imperius Curse, but haven't found a satisfactory one, so I may have taken some liberties with the effects of the curse, for which I am sorry. Anyway, please enjoy and review and what not, and I will try and find some way of updating whilst I'm camping.

Disclaimer: I never would have had the imagination to create talking portraits, the Deluminator or thought of the name Ginevra, hence i donot own Harry Potter.

Sunday mornings.

Aren't they great?

It's the laziest day of the week, and it can't be made any more languid than when you have somebody at your beck and call.

Yes, so, Imperiusing Malfoy is morally wrong.

My mother never would have done it.

My family won't condone it.

Blah, blah, blah.

To tell you the truth, it was the hardest spell I've ever cast.

Just that one little word leads to so much control, which I'm still trying to get used to.

Nonetheless, it feels good.

Because, I'm not one to go back on my word.

"Malfoy, it was utterly wrong of you to tell the entire school that I'm sleeping with you, wasn't it?" I question, on that lazy Sunday morning.

Malfoy's immediate and sincere response is "Yes, it was out of order, and I never should have done it. Please accept my sincerest apologies"

I pat his blonde hair like he's a Labrador, rather than a Doberman, and he turns directly back to the task at hand; alphabetizing my homework essays from the last six years.

Boring work, I know.

And I never would have got round to it.

If it was left to me, they'd have stayed locked up in my desk drawer until the end of this year, when I'll bestow them on Louis and Freddie, who'll keep all the best ones and leave the rest for the 'littlies' to scrap over.

But now, thanks to my super-deluxe personal house elf/Head Boy, I can have those pesky notes all filed in logical order.

The thought of house elves conjures a picture of my mother in my mind. Pushing thoughts of S.P.E.W from my brain I consider writing a letter to her, to see whether dad's calmed down yet.

Actually, scrap that.

I'll dictate a letter for Malfoy to write to her, because I don't want my wrist getting sore, do I?

Contrary to popular belief, Malfoy is not good-for-nothing.

He is very good for menial tasks.


Being under this curse is possibly the weirdest thing I've ever experienced.

I can still think my own thoughts, but her thoughts always override my own when the two clash.

Which is quite frequently.

So, when she asks me if I'd mind terribly getting Echo from the Owlery, my overwhelming instinct is to tell her to get off her lazy backside and find her own owl.

But, what actually comes out of my mouth is more along the lines of "Of course. Would you like me to do anything else, whilst I'm out of the room?"

"Actually, before you get Echo for me, Malfoy, I'd like you to take a letter down for me" Weasley smiles pleasantly, and two thoughts conflict in my head,

"How can the crazy psychopathic bitch be doing this?" and "Parchment. Quill. Ink."

Thought number two wins, and I soon find myself writing down her every word.

Every little thing she wants, I must do.

I am completely subservient, she has complete domination.

"Do you know, Malfoy?" she says, as she's sealing the parchment up. "You're not really that bad, are you?"

I want to scream.

I want to yell.

Very loudly.

But she'd prefer me not to.

So I can't.

As I'm forced along to give this letter to Echo I reflect on the fact that if I'd been in Weasley's position I probably would have done the same thing.

Which is why I abhor her so thoroughly right now.

It's not the fact that she's controlling my every move and every word.

It's the fact that in order to curse me, she let me think that she wanted me.

She led me on.

I'm frankly very pissed off that I didn't think of it first.

I never realised that we're so similar.


I make Malfoy go down to lunch a little before me.

Otherwise, everybody would clearly realise that something was up, if he'd come trailing after me to Sunday lunch like a forlorn puppy.

Not that I have him trailing after me.

"And remember Malfoy" I say, before he leaves our sitting room. "When there are other people around, you act natural. You smirk, and you drawl, and you act like a general jerk, got it?"

His reply, like every one that he's given me whilst under this curse, is instantaneous, "I smirk, I drawl, I act like a general jerk."

It's so good to finally be listened to.

So, he traipses off, his strut looking entirely natural, which I'm grateful for, because the last thing that I want is for him to draw attention to himself by being moody and withdrawn.

I enjoy the peace of the Sunday afternoon whilst there is no-one else about.

There's only fifteen minutes of it, before I have to drag myself down to the Great Hall, and be seated for the meal that I detest above all others; Sunday Lunch.

Ever since I was born, Sunday Lunch has meant journeying to The Burrow to spend hours being ignored by adults whose attention you want, and being smothered in attention by adults you'd rather ignore.

"Rose's got the Sunday Blues" Lily sing-songs, as I almost throw myself down onto the bench next to her.

She's not quelled by a look that could have melted rock.

"Aaw, Rose" she says, "Don't be a spoilsport, give us a smile"

I flash a smile that she misses, since she blinks.

"Leave off" Hugo moans, "She's always been like this, why try and change her now?"

And he smiles one of those little brother smiles.

"What do you want?" I ask wearily, stabbing a roast potato more viciously than is really required.

The grin turns impish and Hugo replies, "How do you know I want something? Can't a little brother fight his big sister's corner once in a while?"

"No" I answer bluntly, "Now, spit it out"

"Well" Hugo starts slowly, "It's Malfoy"


I've barely put my fork down, when I get an overwhelming urge to jump up onto the dais in the Great Hall.

Fantastic.

Said overwhelming urge means that Weasley is still in control and wants me to do something else.

I try fighting it, but it doesn't work.

My legs are moving, even though I don't want them to be.

"Sonorus" I mutter, pointing my wand at my throat, as the professors eating look outraged.

"Erm. Excuse me" I say, and the words coming out of my mouth aren't mine, they're someone else's.

"I'd just like to say, in front of everyone, that Hugo Weasley isn't in detention for the next week for setting his own hair on fire as a joke in front of third year Slytherins, he's in detention for a week for being wittier, more clever and better looking than me. Which isn't actually a detention offence, so I'm revoking the punishment"

Lorento looks livid, but I have to carry on, as if someone is moving my jaw for me.

"Also, I've never slept with Rose Weasley, she's far too good for me, and I'm sorry for telling the whole school that she did"

The Gryffindor table explodes with laughter as Professor Longbottom grabs me by the neck of my robes and escorts me back to my table.

"Seeing as how I'm not your Head of House, Malfoy" he snarls, "I don't think it's appropriate that I punish you. Professor Lorento will be more than happy though" he finishes nastily.

I don't say anything because I'm not ordered to, which he takes as insolence.

I've had enough of being controlled, of doing whatever she tells me to.

Especially when Lorento storms over to the table, looking about as happy as a dragon that has had its eggs stolen.

"Malfoy" he growls, and for the second time in about a minute the scruff of my collar is grabbed by a teacher. "What on earth is the meaning of this?"

And once again, that overpowering feeling is overcoming me.


"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life" Hugo howls, as we sprint back up the staircase.

Let me explain: after Malfoy's rather incriminating public speech Lorento seized him and threw him practically bodily from the Great Hall, where Hugo and I crept to view my handiwork more closely.

"Malfoy, I want an explanation this very second" Lorento hisses, and I have 'carte blanche' to humiliate Malfoy in any way possible.

"Sir" Malfoy is on bended knee, and Hugo and I have to stuff our fists into our mouths in order to stop ourselves from bursting out laughing.

"It's just, she's driving me crazy. All I can do is think about her, and I can't sleep. I've never felt this way before" Malfoy is practically crying, and Hugo is practically wetting himself.

"And, of whom is it that you speak?" Lorento asks acidly, "That makes you act in a way that is completely unbefitting of a Head Boy and a pureblood Slytherin?"

"Rose Weasley" Malfoy whispers in the tiniest of voices, and even this is choked. There are now official tears streaming down his face, as he continues to proclaim his undying love for me.

"She makes the stars shine. She makes the earth spin. She is life in the very purest form"

Hugo is looking at me quizzically, and I'm replying, "I'm a romantic, can you blame me?" when the crack attributed with a slap is heard, and it seems that Lorento is so distraught at Malfoy's announcement of ardour for Rose Weasley, the unworthy half-blood Gryffindor, that he has slapped him.

This is the point at which Hugo and I depart, hurrying up the stairs as quickly as is possible, so that we can finally laugh the way we've wanted to for the past five minutes.

I truly do not understand why the 'Imperius' is an Unforgivable.

It brings so much joy to so many lives.


For the second time in a week, I have a red hand-shaped mark on my face.

I'm rather grateful for Lorento for slapping me, I could hear myself spouting that starry-eyed nonsense, and I want to hit myself.

After being given three months worth of detentions, I make my way back to our common room, hating Weasley more than I've ever hated anything or anybody in my seventeen years of existence. Her brother is with her when I step through the portrait hole and I hear myself saying "Good evening, Hugo, Rose, I hope that my public apology was satisfactory to you both"

I wonder if I can still kill myself whilst under this curse?

Better still, can I kill Weasley?

It's Hugo that replies first, his cheeks red from what I presume is laughter.

"Malfoy, I think that you have to admit once and for all that Rose the best, most intelligent witch that you've ever had the misfortune of maltreating."

"Hugo, please" Weasley returns, also a little pink from excess mirth. "Come on, show mom a bit of respect here, she is a much better witch than I am, I mean, she's written books and everything, all I've managed to do is make a complete and total fool of Malfoy"

And, because she is ordering me to, through her mind, since she has that much control over this curse now, I slope off to my bedroom, not to emerge until eight thirty tomorrow morning.

"Oh, and Malfoy" Weasley's voice floats into my bedroom, as the portrait hole closes and the irritating male Weasley (yes, there are many of them, but I mean Hugo) leaves. "Don't study too hard. I envisage a 'D' for you on your next homework essay in potions"

There is nothing that I'd like more than to be killed right now.