I'm sorry for the late update, but I think it'll be at this frequency for the upcoming time. I'm doing all I can, but school's a bitch.

Thanks for all the nice reviews, everyone!

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter and its characters not.

EIGHT

I awake with the worst headache I've ever experienced.

It feels as if a bunch of monkeys with cymbals have wormed their way through the cells inside my head. There's a frequent throbbing in the back of my neck. I groan hoarsely while lifting my eyelids with great strain. My room is lit by a streak of sunshine falling through the curtains. I immediately close my eyes again – the sunlight is blinding, and only seems to increase the pounding.

Why in Merlin's name do I have a headache anyway?

I mean, I'm never sick. I once had the flu when I was eight, and broke my arm in second year at my first Quiddich game, but that's about it. Even when I have my period, I don't get much cramps or anything. And actually, this kind of pain doesn't even feel similar to any of those real illnesses I suffered. In fact, it feels like -

Shit.

My eyes fly back open when realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

A hangover.

Pressing the palms of my hands against my forehead, I desperately try to remember why I have a hangover. Hangovers require extraordinary amounts of alcohol, so that means I must've been drunk earlier. Extraordinary amounts of alcohol require an opportunity to stomach it, so that means I must've had a party or something -

But I didn't have a party yesterday! As far as I recall, I had detention!

Detention, detention … What did I do at the detention …

Suddenly a flicker catches my attention. I slightly turn my head and to my surprise I find a pile of Galleons lying on my night stand. Frowning, I slowly pop myself up my elbows, and see a note beside it. Curiously, I unfold it. In a clean and orderly handwriting, it says:

'Weasley,

Here's the money I owe you. Your cheap, wasted antics were definitely worth it. I hope this teaches you not to play against a real Slytherin anymore.

Malfoy

P.S.: You're excused from all of your classes today, thanks to that little Potter girl.'

Yesterday's events overwhelm me in one flash.

Detention. Malfoy. Violetta's Firewhiskey. Drunker than drunk. And -

Oh no.

Drinking games.

I jump up as comprehension fills my senses. I played a drinking game with Malfoy. I played 'Truth' with Malfoy. I told him about the loss of my virginity. And … and then I dared him to kiss me.

I dared him to kiss me.

This makes me officially a fucked up Head Girl.

And I don't mean just fucked up.

I'm talking cheating-on-your-wife-on-Valentine's-day, take-a-nosedive-in-front-of-the-entire-Great-Hall, congratulating-a-corpulent-infertile-woman-on-her-pregnancy-fucked-up.

I assume you get the image.

With my hands in my hair I stumble out of my bed. Completely thrown off my disbelief at my own antics, I try to recall what day it is …

And for the third time today my eyes triple in size.

It's Monday.

I'm supposed to be in class.


"Drink this."

I look at the blubbering green bottle Lily is handing out to me. Suspiciously I take it, and ask in a broken voice: "What's this?"

"A hangover cure," she tells me, "stolen from Albus' very own collection. Apparently Uncle George taught him how to brew it. It tastes horrible but it'll make you feel a whole lot better."

"Well yeah, I can't possibly feel any worse than I already do."

Which is an understatement.

I've been puking my guts out for the entire morning now. Initially I wanted to go to class, but by the time I'd put on my blouse I already felt the alcohol coming upwards, so I wisely discarded the idea. Since Lily is a very nice girl and also one of my best friends, she's considerate enough to drop by instead of eating her lunch. Which brings us the predicament where we are in now.

"You have to drink up the whole bottle," she advises carefully, as if she's well aware that this is not an inviting suggestion to make. "It's useless otherwise."

"Fine."

In total atrocity I swallow down the bottle in one gulp …

… and nearly spit it out again.

"Merlin, this is disgusting!" I exclaim, coughing.

She smiles. "Yeah, I know. But it's worth it."

She then sits down on my bed and folds her hands in an awaiting manner. I watch her and realize she's not here for my welfare but simply for her own, sick curiosity. Yes, well. That's what friends are for!

"I bet you want to know all about yesterday's detention, right?" I guess tiredly.

She grins sheepishly. "Am I that readable?"

"Like a book," I confirm.

"Well, come on, Rose," she retaliates, "you'd be in the same position as I am if you caught me kissing Scorpius Malfoy!"

"A) We weren't kissing, and B) you're always whining about how hot he is, so no, the surprise wouldn't all be that world shocking," I point out.

She's lucky that the potion's kicking in. Otherwise I would've pushed her out of this room a long time ago.

She rolls her eyes. "You would've been in I walked in a second later!"

"Don't remind me," I mumble under my breath.

"Rose," she gives me a stern look, "I'm serious here. I will stay in this room until you've told me every single detail of the detention!"

I huff in annoyance. "Fine, but only if you fill in the parts after I blacked out first."

"Alright," she agrees. "So you remember fainting. Then Professor Goldstein rushed over to you check if you were okay, which gave Malfoy the chance to hide the Firewhiskey. Of course Professor Goldstein was full of questions, and if it weren't for me, you both would've been screwed. Malfoy could hardly form a coherent sentence, let me tell you. I told you'd been out of it earlier, and then started explaining something about your blood pressure, only I made it ten times as complicated as it should be-"

"Yes, the when-questioned-answer-as-complex-as-possible-technique," I interrupt, smiling.

"Indeed. So Professor Goldstein and Malfoy carried you all the way to your bedroom, and thank Merlin that A) I knew your password and B) Malfoy could blame the lack of balance on your weight."

I glare at her. "Oh, yes! Thank Merlin for all that fat encircling my bones!"

"That's not how I meant it! You should be grateful, you know. If I hadn't saved you from this mess, you would've hooked up with Scorpius Malfoy, Professor Goldstein would've walked in on you two doing the deed," she eyes me meaningfully, "and he would've found the Firewhiskey, which would've resulted in another detention for drinking and shagging Malfoy, repeat, shagging Malfoy, which in its turn would've soiled your perfect, prissy record. Oh, and you'd be stuck in Madame Pomfrey's evil clutches right now," she adds, like that's the worst part of all.

Oh, the horror!

"Lily Potter, you utterly disgust me," I say, cringing at her presumptions. "I would've never 'hooked up' with Malfoy! An innocent kiss and sexual intercourse are two completely different things!"

Inspecting her nails with utmost interest, she barely spares my comment any attention.

"I'm serious here." I wave my hand in front of her face.

"So am I, dear cousin," she replies, slapping away my aforementioned waving hand, "I don't care how many times you're going to deny it. I have an incredibly hard time imagining someone resisting Malfoy's advances. He's gorgeous, Rose. Gorgeous. G O R G E O U S."

"My spelling is just fine, thank you," I say drily, my eyes hitting the ceiling by now.

"Yeah, but your sanity isn't. Hello! Take a look at the boy! Hot, rich, and he's even smart. I'd marry him in a nanosecond!" Lily exclaims, hitting me with my own pillow.

Panic-stricken, I grab the pillow back. "Argh! Don't! As your husband, his dad would be meeting my dad again! And he'd have to attend our family dinners! And, bloody hell, maybe he'd even stand next to me in the kitchen while I'd bake cookies for Christmas, and, and – "

I stop dead in my rambling as my eyes widen in sheer terror.

"And?"

Of course Lily is beyond amused.

"He'd be able to influence my future children! He'd, he'd – he'd teach them how to smirk and kick dying puppies!"

"Rose," Lily says in a very diplomatic tone, "I declare you now officially as a nut. Well done. Can we now please continue where we left of? Which is, the explanation of how you almost kissed the boy?"

"Alright," I inhale deeply, "alright. If you promise to shut up about marrying him."

"I promise."

Thus, sighing, I start telling the tale.


I spend the rest of the day feeling quite perky in my common room. I take advantage of the gloomy weather by fixing myself some hot chocolate. It's almost like Christmas. The colder it looks outside, the cosier it is to be inside. I've also lit the fireplace, which causes a nice, warm glow to spread across the room. Because of the high temperature here, I've put on the boxer short Tony once gave me (hey, I like to sleep in it, alright?) and a white tank top to finish to outfit. Slouching in the easy chair, I'm using my spare time appropriately by completing most of my upcoming essays.

The thing is, the more I'm engrossed in homework, the less I have to think about last night.

I mean, hello!

Can you read the big, red letters on my forehead?

Yeah. It says: 'MAJOR FAILURE'

I'd send my mother an owl about this lunatic mistake of mine – she's cool, she's one of those I-manage-to-be-a-good-mother-while-being-very-understanding-too – but I think even she won't be comprehensive about this one. And, seriously, Hermione Granger is one of those horribly forgiving good doers. But for as much as I gathered from conversations at dinner, neither mum nor dad beholds a soft spot for the Malfoys.

Apparently Draco Malfoy used to call mum a 'Mudblood' and mocked dad's poverty about every day.

And then they and Uncle Harry had to save his sorry ass during the final battle.

Boy, is karma ever a bitch.

"Oh, shit," an unappealing, pompous drawl comes out of nowhere, "my fellow Head partner is a basket case."

I look up from my Potions essay and find the object of my misery standing in front of me.

As if the repugnant odour of his perfume didn't give it away already.

"Good evening, Malfoy," I bite out in my most impolite tone. "What a pleasure, as always."

He smirks unpleasantly. "You were mouthing to yourself, Weasley. I'd expected you to be sober by now, but then again, last night was probably, no, surely the first time you got so drunk."

It's nice to see some things never change.

Like Scorpius Malfoy will always stay a stupid, selfish cad. Even after we had a – dare I say it? – good time together.

"I'm sure it was more than the alcohol that made me vomit as much as I did," I snap.

"Right. That's why you're looking so annoyingly healthy now."

"Look, Malfoy," I sigh. "I don't have time for this, alright? And I have a request."


Arching an eyebrow, he taxes my figure. "A request?"

Suddenly I am very aware of my clothing. Or lack thereof.

You have a fabulous body, Weasley ... Remember that morning in the bathroom? Well, as soon as you were out of there I had to take a cold shower.I remember it at once. That he said this.

"Not that kind of request, Malfoy," I roll my eyes at his broadening smirk. "I need to borrow something from you."

"My body, perhaps?" He suggest childishly.

"Your notes," I correct.

He grimaces viciously. "And why, pray tell, would I borrow you my notes?"

"Because you're Head Boy," I reply, not wanting to tell him that he's probably the only one with notes matching mine.

He folds his arms and walks towards me. "Why don't you ask Stephano? I bet he's more than willing to 'lend you his notes'."

A strange interpretation comes over me. "Malfoy, if you weren't you, I'd say you almost sound like ... some crazy, over possessive, jealous boyfriend."

"Well, lucky for me I am me, then," he says scathingly.

Rubbing my temples, I eye him tiredly. "Look, can I just borrow them, please?"

"No, you can't. Give me one good reason to lend them to you. One," he says, like the prick he is.

"Because I got drunk on your account last night?" I try.

He snorts. "For which you got twenty bloody Galleons, may I remind you."

"You suck, Malfoy," I scowl. "Honestly, don't you get sick of being such an asshole all the time?"

"I don't do nice, Weasley. Especially not to lesbian bints such as yourself," he snarls, glaring at me.

I open my mouth in protest, but he cuts me off before I get the chance to speak my mind.

Hatefully, he spits: "Furthermore, don't you get sick of being such a slut all the time?"

"A slut?" I exclaim, indignant, repelled at his accusation. "You are calling me a slut?"

It's my duty to stay calm in situations like this, I know.

But Scorpius 'Manwhore' Malfoy calling me a slut?

"Yeah, Weasley, I am. It's what you are, isn't it?" He growls back, losing his cool as well.

"Well, aren't we quite the hypocrite today?" I screech. "First you basically tell me I'm a fucking prude, and now you dare standing here with a straight face, accusing me of the one thing you are the bloody epitome of?"

"I did consider you a prude, up until recent events where you almost kissed your date's best mate! That's pretty low, Weasley, even for someone as miserable as you!" Malfoy shouts, with a flushed face to match his voice.

I jump off the couch and throw a nearby book at him. "Sod off, Malfoy! What's your fucking problem anyway? Have you developed a silly schoolboy crush on me or what?"

Unfortunately, he has good reflexes and catches the book. In return, he smashes it to the ground, and then looks at me with eyes narrowed to slits. "Listen to me closely, you fucking retard," he sneers dangerously, "never in a million years would I be delusional enough to fall in love with someone like you. The only reason I care about this is because I care about Stephano, and he deserves way better than to be cheated on!"

"I can't believe you!" I scream in despair, almost picking the book back up to hit myself with it.

"Well, start believing it!"

And those are his departing words.

He turns with a swish of his robes and storms towards his room, leaving me with a mouth hanging open in fury.

Breathe, Rose. Breathe.

It takes me approximately sixty minutes to calm myself down.


When I wake up the next morning, feeling much better than the last time I did this, I know straight away that Malfoy's already gone or still sleeping in. Either means I don't have to face the prick, so I'm glad. When I'm come out of the bathroom, however, I see something lying at the desk in the common room that I hadn't taken notice of before. I walk over to it and come to a standstill when I realize what this is.

It are Malfoy's notes.

For me.


Yes, yes, heaps of swearing and hating in this chapter! Oh come on, don't say you expected them to be all lovey-dovey after their drinking game xD. Anyway, stay tuned for next chapter, where Stephano, Albus & Louis will make a reappearance!