The Opposite of Adults
I once was a kid all I had was a dream
Mo' money mo' problems, when I get it imma pile it up.
Now I'm dope, Wonderbread we can toast
So fresh how we flow, everybody get their style from us.
I once was a kid with the other little kids
Now I'm rippin' up shows and 'em fans goin' wild with us
Tell mommy I'm sorry, This life is a party.
I'm never growing up.
—Chiddy Bang

"I can't believe I have to write a freaking essay on my own mother and father…" Rose muttered irritatedly, as we sat on the floor of the Common Room, both of us surrounded by the variety of books we'd picked out on her parents, and my legal guardians. Normally, we wouldn't have been working on a Thursday, but this essay was massive. It required a boatload of research before we even began. It wasn't even due till November.

"It's technically only on your mum." I pointed out as I used my wand to flip a page in the book I was currently flipping through. "And Binns looked suitably sheepish at having to assign it, at least to my class…" I shrugged.

It'd been a week and a few days since the Quidditch game, and October had begun fairly uneventfully. Or sort of—Rory was trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, per Grace McClellan's orders. The tryouts were still going on, though: Grace was supposed to post the list by Sunday. But from what I'd heard, Rory and Albus were just going at it—which, frankly, wasn't helping the situation with all the stupid girls who hated me for dating Rory, now. But I continued to scare away the unsuspecting younger girls and Rory continued to have no interest in anyone but me, so we were fine, for the time being, even if the school wished otherwise.

After the Rory/Albus/Quidditch Situation, this stupid essay was a close second in terms of problems I had. Rose hadn't stopped whining about the actual content of the assignment, and thinking about it strictly, it was kind of inappropriate that we had to write it. Rose, Al and Fred were all related to Mrs. Weasley, and all three of them pointedly didn't like to talk about the Wizard War: Fred's namesake had died, and Al's grandparents had died in round one of the war against Voldemort. And aside from all of that, it was just kind of…awkward. Their parents were just their parents to them. Not saviors of the Wizarding World.

"Hey is this for the History of Magic essay?" Liam asked us, coming up beside us. I nodded, glancing up at him, and he sat down beside me, snatching one of the books—Hermione's Headaches: the Trials and Tribulations of Hermione Jean Granger by Rita Skeeter—before flipping through it lazily. "Is it weird writing something on your mum?" He asked Rose, glancing up at her. She nodded.

"I'm considering demanding the right to write about anyone else on the planet—" She muttered, as Liam flipped through the book. He glanced over the pages passingly, and I looked back to my own book. I got through half a page before Liam looked up at me. I ignored him for a beat before he slammed the book onto my lap, his finger pointing to a specific passage underneath a picture of Rose and me with her parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are your legal guardians?" He hissed at me, frowning. Rose and I froze, glancing up at him, before I looked back down at what he was pointing to: On August 19th, 2021, Hermione Weasley gained joint custody with Ron Weasley of Molly Sienna and Cormac Finley Gale, following an alleged incident of parental abuse against Molly when Cormac got his Hogwarts Letter.

My heart pounded in my chest, the sound of it roaring in my ears, and I grabbed the book from Liam. I read further down the page: Molly and Cormac are the son and daughter of two muggles, and according to my sources at the Ministry, their case is being especially carefully handled, as everyone can remember the last time that the Weasley- and Potter-run Auror department dabbled in a child custody case: The Finnigans. They are not treating the case delicately, though, according to my Ministry insider: "Molly apparently blew a fuse when Mr. Potter told her about the removal of her and her brother from her parents' custody. She even drew her wand and tried to curse him and everything—" Molly Gale is the same year as Rose Weasley, the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's said that Rose and Molly are best friends, according to sources at the school who wish to remain anonymous, and my anonymous source also tells me that Miss Gale has earned herself the love of several admirers. "Molly's a total ice queen, though—and she has no patience for boys who are just going to dote on her," My source told me confidentially in a letter. "She'd never give a second thought to a boy who wasn't getting top marks or on the Quidditch team." These remarks are, to say the least, unusual for the Potter-Weasley-Clan's previous charity cases: Serafina Finnigan is the darling of the Wizarding World, and Wesley Finnigan does pro-bono work for the Auror department and St. Mungo's. Sweet, thoughtful, children in bad circumstances, rather than Molly, the rude daughter of an abusive muggle—and more unusual yet, never before has Hermione Granger been involved in the charity cases. Rumors are, she's already staged a coverup for Miss Gale, who may have apparated and broken underage Wizarding laws in August.

Has Ms. Hermione Granger jeopardized her morals for a girl like Molly?

"Are you fucking with me…?" I muttered to the book, feeling my stomach turn over: how was this in here? This was—such a violation of my privacy, and Cormac's. "This reads more like a goddamned gossip column then a biography—" I grabbed the book and, keeping the book mark with my finger, I turned it over, glaring at the back. An old woman with huge, ugly glasses and beady, watery eyes smiled manipulatively out at me from the back cover, and I glared down at her: who was this woman?

"How is that already in there?" Rose murmured, looking at me, frowning. "That happened in August…"

"So it's true?" Liam demanded, gaping at me. "Your legal guardians are—"

I dropped the book, diving at Liam and slapping my hand over his mouth, glaring angrily at him. "Liam Fitzroy, so help me God," I hissed slowly, making sure he understood the seriousness of the threat I was about to make, "if you have any sense in you at all, you'll shut up for once in your sorry, little life, or I will curse you so badly, you won't be sure which was is up." My voice was lethal, but effective: Liam glowered darkly at me, before he grabbed my hand and shoved it off his face.

"Fine." He muttered. I snatched my wand up from the floor, pointing it at him threateningly for a moment before I looked back down at the book, making sure that was the end of that passage, before I grabbed the top of the page and tore it out. I folded the paper neatly in half, then again, and then I lifted my wand and pressed the tip against the paper; it burst into flame. I let the paper levitate as it burned, ash dropping to the floor until I finally blasted it with my wand, annoyance grasping me, and it exploded with a muffled explosion. A couple of kids in the Common Room glanced towards us, but I threw them irritated, mind-your-own business glares, and Liam whistled long and low, impressed. "Jeezum, Molly, overkill much."

I ignored Liam, and Rose's concerned gaze, instead closing the book again and looking back down at the back of the book. Rita Skeeter is Features Editor for the Daily Prophet, as well as the author of several best-selling novels and her daily gossip column in the Prophet. She is a mother of two and grandmother of three, as well as a well-respected judge of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.

"She's also about to be murdered by Molly Sienna Gale." I muttered irritatedly, mostly to myself. I looked up at Rose, and I saw her sigh at the obvious frustration on my face. "Does the name Rita Skeeter mean anything to you?" I demanded quietly.

"My mum hates the bitch, but I don't know about much else." Rose said, shrugging. "She's always writing nasty things about my parents in the paper, like how she thinks Mum's always hooking up with uncle Viktor…" Rose rolled her eyes. "It's all nonsense, no one who has any brain in their head takes her seriously." She looked back at me, her blue gaze, lighter than my own blue eyes, filled with concern. "Molls, whatever she wrote, it doesn't matter." I shot her a dark look, partially for the nickname and partially for my complete lack of faith in her words. "She's some old coot—" I shook my head, glaring at her: Rose, shut up, I didn't want to talk about it. Rose frowned at me. "What could she possibly have said…?" She murmured, reaching across the ground for the book. I pushed myself to my feet, glaring at Rose and Liam and the people who were now glancing at me as I stood up.

"She called me one of your family's charity cases." I muttered as I passed Rose on my to the girls' dormitory. I took the stairs up, two at a time, around the spiral staircase and walking into our dormitory. I slammed the door shut behind me, walking over to my bed and sitting down with a sigh. I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out all the letters in there—the ones from Nate, and Ellie, and Mrs. Granger, who wrote me persistently though I'd yet to respond. And the one from my mother.

I lifted the envelope and flipped it over, running my fingers along the hem of the envelope for a moment before I dropped it on the bed, not opening it. I sighed in frustration as I fell back against the bed, glaring up at the ceiling of my room. I was such a fucking chicken—the worst case scenario, here, was that Mum had written something awfully mean to me. I shouldn't have been so reluctant to open that stupid letter.

Nate wouldn't have forwarded the letter to me if it were anything but an apology, I tried to convince myself. And then the devil's advocate in my head refuted, almost immediately: Nate might not have read it. Nate was my partner-in-crime, my best friend, my little brother—he wouldn't have read my mail before forwarding it. He knew I trusted him, and vice-versa, of course. But neither of us abused that privilege. We weren't just siblings. He was, if Rose wasn't there, my best friend. He'd never have read my mail. Which meant that this letter was just for me.

But I still wasn't going to read it.

I closed my eyes, covering my face with my hands. I had to get some guts.


Cal & Ellie, do NOT read this letter, there's another in here for you two.

NATHANIEL ISAAC GALE, SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU GET IN ANOTHER FIGHT AND BREAK ANOTHER BONE IN YOUR HAND, I WILL COME BACK TO NOTTINGHAM MYSELF AND TRANSFORM YOU INTO A FREAKING CLOTHES HANGER.

Cormac got into a bit of a tiff two weeks ago as well, with a boy the year above him. Just like how you got in a fight with a boy the year above you, since I remember that Scott Dixon was my year at school. So, darling brother, you have to behave better so I can tell Cory judgmental things like "Nate would kill you…" because obviously, Nate would not kill him if Nate has been doing the EXACT SAME THING.

Get your ass back in line fast, Gale, lest I have to drag my sorry self back to our home. And if it comes to that, there will be no mercy, even if your hand is broken.

-Molly


Dear Cal & Ellie

I miss you too! I'm sorry to hear that you heard Daddy and Nate fighting—next time that happens, just go downstairs and tell Nate or Daddy—they'll apologize and put you back to bed, I promise.

Ellie, love, you may not bite people. Under any circumstances. Even if they steal Cal's chess pieces. Cal's very good at talking to people when he wants to—the next time the girl steals Cal's chess piece or anything else, you have to let Cal talk it out with the girl, or bite him, or whatever—it's best not to try to defend Cal, I promise, Ellie. He can handle himself as long as it's just one of your classmates. If it's an older kid, go get Nate or that girl Sarah or a teacher. They'll take care of it.

Maybe you'll be able to come to magicland one day… and maybe not. It depends on whether you were born magical or not—and it doesn't make you better or worse if you weren't or were. Besides, I think you both miss the other twin if only one of you were magical.

Hugs & kisses,
Molly

P.S. I'm going to try and stop by your Christmas pageant, guys, but I need to know the date and whether Daddy is going, okay? And if I need a ticket to get in, ask Nate for the money. I love you.


"Oh, no." Rose muttered as she, Rory and I stood in front of the bulletin board in the Common room two nights later. "No… c'mon, it's only October," She moaned. I leaned back against Rory, and he kissed my hair, his arms slipping around my waist.

"On October 7, 2021, fifth year classes will be canceled as all students will have a meeting with Professor Longbottom regarding what OWLs they should focus on for their potential future careers," Rory read aloud, and I pressed my lips together, before turning in his arms, pressing my face into his chest. Rory and I hadn't further discussed his issue with Albus, but he'd stopped arguing about it, so I was assuming that while the issue wasn't over, he'd realized he'd sounded like a child and that had to stop.

"They're not that bad," Rory interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up at him; he looked down at me, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. "As long as you walk in with a plan…"

"A plan?" Rose asked, turning to him.

"Y'know—what you want to do." He murmured, glancing up at Rose. "It doesn't have to be super specific but if there's an ideal job you want than that gives you something to talk about at least…"

"I want to be a blast-ended skrewt." Rose decided in a moan, covering her face with her hands and toppling into the armchair by the fire. Rory watched her go, before looking back down at me, his hand running through my hair before he let it rest on my back.

"I have no idea what I want to do…" I told him quietly, lifting my hands to rest them against his chest. I began to trace the Gryffindor emblem on his chest with the tip of my index finger. "I could…wait tables, at the Leaky Cauldron," I suggested, slowly coming around the bottom of the emblem ad starting back up the left side, "or I could be an Unspeakable," my finger jumped inside the lion, and Rory groaned, grabbing my hand away from his chest and pulling me flush against him.

"Oy, could you stop teasing me in the middle of the bloody Common Room?" He suggested in a rough voice, and I smirked, before bouncing up onto the balls of my feet, and pressing my lips to his for just a moment; he kissed me back, his arms tight around me and his lips working against mine.

"Where would the fun be in that?" I whispered as I pulled away. Rory cursed under his breath, his forehead touching mine, but before he could launch into a real scolding, the portrait hole opened and revealed the rowdy Gryffindor Quidditch team. They were all clad in their red robes and trailing behind an angry-looking Grace McClellan.

"Grace, I'm not even fucking with you—" Albus was talking low and fast to her as he followed her across the room, but I could pick his voice out anywhere: his incessant need to chatter at me kept me well aware of what his voice sounded like. "You can't just let him on—he's not even half-decent, Lily is better than him—"

"Excuse me?" Lily Potter demanded, catching up with her brother angrily, but Albus flapped an impatient hand at her.

"I'm letting him on the team, Albus, I printed it on the paper with my wand, the robes with his name on it have been ordered—it's done." Grace muttered, pushing her hair out of her face, flustered. She walked past Rory and I to slap the paper in her hands on the board, before she stabbed it viciously with her wand, and it stuck there. She turned around, caught sight of Rory, who was looking at her over my head now, and I saw her force a smile. "Nice job, you made the team." Grace said with a grin, and Rory grinned at her. I glanced at Albus, my small smile fading a little as he met my gaze with his own angry one: was it just me, or did it seem like Albus got a lot angrier this year? In previous years he didn't give a care about everything; suddenly, this year, he was Mr. Teenage Angst.

"Great, thanks," Rory said with a grin for Grace, who waved her hand at him.

"Not a problem, you were a fantastic beater, and we really needed one…" Grace said, flashing him an easy grin. "Seriously, you're saving me here—I've been working James & Fred harder than anything and now I can finally give them a break." She shook her head, glancing back at James, who gave one of his rare grins to Rory: the older Potter was one of Rory's roommates, and they were pretty close friends. Rory pulled me against his chest tightly as he grinned, and I looked up at him, smiling a little as I put my hand over the Gryffindor patch on his robes and stood on tiptoe. I pressed my lips to his as my arm slid up, around his neck, and Rory's hand slid down to my lower back.

"Molly, my love, my lady, perhaps we could not snog the kindly Mr. Corner in the middle of the Common Room," Fred said behind me in an exaggeratedly dramatic voice, and I pulled away from Rory, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up my face. I ducked my face into the front of Rory's robes, and I could practically feel his resentful glare at Fred, while I stuck out a hand to flip my middle finger at Fred. I let my face cool briefly in his robes before I pulled away and looked up at the Quidditch team, who were still standing there. Albus was frowning seriously at me, but I just met his gaze defiantly. He had no right to be angry.

Beside him, Fred was grinning like the huge idiot he was, but he was obviously trying to restrain it, probably for Al's benefit. Rory followed my gaze to Albus and I thought for a moment that he was going to say something to Albus, but Sera stepped forward, putting a hand on Rory's free arm & capturing his attention before he could get a word out.

"Rore, we've got to go—prefect rounds, remember?" Sera said lightly, her gaze flicking to me, and I realized, suddenly, that she had seen as well as I had that Rory was about to snap at Albus.

"I'll see you later, love," Rory murmured to me, and I squeezed his hand, offering him half-a-smile in return. Rory kissed me—a little longer than he usually did when he was just leaving for a while, his hand on my lower back—and it occurred to me in a heartbeat that this was a possessive kiss. I pulled away after a moment, keeping the half-smile on my face, but Rory could tell from the moment he opened his eyes again that I was less than pleased.

"Possessiveness isn't flattering, Rore," I kept my voice low, so no one but Rory and maybe Sera could hear me, and Rory released me with a stony expression. He glanced at Sera before looking back down at me, and then he exhaled shortly.

"Your choosing to spend more and more time with Albus isn't particularly flattering either, Molly." Rory murmured, and I narrowed my eyes at him, dropping any pretense of a smile. Rory raised his eyebrows. "Let's go, Sera," Rory pulled away from me, throwing Albus a warning glare over his shoulder as he walked away, and when he glanced at me, I scowled darkly at him. He looked back forward, and I dropped my gaze to the carpet, wrapping my arms around my stomach uncomfortably.

"What was that about?" Albus asked me with a frown as he crossed to me, and I glared up at him, dropping my arms before pushing my hair out of my face with a frustrated sigh.

"You putting up a fit that Rory's on the Quidditch team isn't helping me out, much." I told him irritatedly. "He's bothered that I even spend time with you—" I shook my head, glaring angrily up at him. Albus's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up. Fred came up beside us, looking wary; he could see that I was already pretty angry.

"Rory has a problem with you spending time with me?" Albus said after a second, sounding angry.

"Yeah, as it turns out, you bring out a little of the asshole within him." I said irritatedly, not looking away. "The same with him & you—you're barely tolerable with each other." I shook my head. "Idiots. I'm surprised I waste my time with either of you." I growled.

"You said that Corner didn't decide who your friends were." Albus muttered defensively, glaring down at me, but the anger had drained from his voice and face; Albus was never angry for very long, at least. I, however, was just getting started. "And since he's the one with the problem—"

"You act like he killed your cat every time he's in earshot!" I hissed. "Like hell he's the only one with the problem—"

"So you think I'm the one with the problem?" Albus demanded raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe that's just because you've taken a talent to scaring away my boyfriends and Rory doesn't want to be next—" I hissed at him, and Albus blushed furiously. "He told me you scared away Mikey—after you heard me talk about how I thought Mikey must hate me, how I thought there was something wrong with me because he'd dumped me after a freaking week, and you said nothing—"

"I told you that there was nothing wrong with you." Albus growled at me, his eyes lethal as he took a step forward, and it occurred to me that he'd not been blushing—he'd flushed with anger. Albus and I were standing toe-to-toe now, and I glared up at him, frustrated. "And I fucking stand by that, because the problem here, isn't you. It's him." Albus spat the word like a curse, his gaze piercing mine and we just stood like that for a moment, that close, before I spoke.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Albus?" I demanded of him, my voice quiet. "Rory's my boyfriend." I shook my head. "If you want to be my friend—really, really be my friend, like you keep on claiming—then for God's sake, act like it." Albus scoffed, looking exasperatedly up at the ceiling of the Common Room for a moment before looking back down at me, pushing his black hair off his forehead.

"I'm being a friend when I tell you that he doesn't deserve you even for a second." He told me angrily, and I swallowed. "Rory's nice, fine. But he's boring as hell and not that great a beater and he wears that prefect badge like he's the new Minister of Magic rather than just some stupid kid who had no fun the first four years he was at Hogwarts just to get the privilege to berate—"

"You are stepping over like twelve different lines here." I hissed at him, cutting him off. "You have no right to stand there and trash my boyfriend when you're no Mr. Perfect." I turned on my heel and walked away, and behind me, I heard Albus swear, loudly. I flipped him my middle finger, not even glancing back, before I sank into the armchair beside where Rose had sat down. Rose was still sitting there, except she was watching me carefully. I glared at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

"You're not mad at me." She reminded me quietly. I felt the glare fade from my features, and I scrubbed at my face, glancing back across the Common Room at Albus, who was ranting out of earshot to Fred.

I looked back up at my best friend before confessing in a quiet voice: "I don't think I'm even mad at him."


Three days later, I was sitting (or really, sulking) in front of Professor Longbottom's office with the rest of my year, waiting for our Career Counseling meetings. Albus and I hadn't spoken in the three days since our fight (if you could even call it that) but Rory and I had made up; Rory had apologized, and I'd accepted that apology. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that he trusted Albus to not try to scare him off, but I knew that he was at least willing to act like an adult about it. But my not speaking to Albus was screwing up the way my day worked: Fred and Albus had become part of my circle, sort of, since beginning school, even if the two of them did annoy the bajeezus out of me, and without them, it was back to just Rose and me. Which was boring.

More boring yet, though, was this Career Counseling thing. All the fifth years had to wait in line the entire day for one meeting with Longbottom. This was ridiculous. And we had to line up alphabetically by last name—which meant that while I was early in the line (yay!), I wasn't sitting next to anyone good. Rose and Fred were beside each other (both of them were Weasley) and Albus was beside Mikey, because Mikey was Palahntuk and Al was Potter. But I was between Liam (Fitzroy) and Celia (Goyle). And I'd been avoiding Liam since he'd read that Rose's parents had custody of me, and Celia was just annoying. So sitting between them put me in a bit of a tight spot.

"I can't believe we have to have this stupid Counselling thing." Celia muttered after we'd been sitting there for two hours, and only eleven kids had gone. "I already know what I'm doing, I don't need some half-batty professor telling me what I should be doing."

Celia Goyle was fairly pretty, for so irritating a girl. Her hair was cut short and jet black, and she always pinned a bit of it back with a barrette that looked like it belonged to a six-year-old: small with a green and silver bow on it. Her eyes were hazel and her expression was always that of someone who'd just seen something disgusting, like a spider—or maybe she just wore that expression around me. I wasn't stupid, I knew she probably shared the same purebloods-are-better beliefs as her father.

"Longbottom isn't half-batty," I growled at Celia. I wasn't too keen on Professor Longbottom since he'd told me he thought I was messing up Cory, but Longbottom was my head of house. He trumped Celia Goyle any day.

"At least he's not the biased old coot Gilbert is…" Liam chimed in from beside me, referencing the head of Slytherin, leaning forward to flash Celia a sarcastic smile, and Celia sneered at him.

"Gilbert's sensible, not biased." Celia said, rolling her eyes at Liam.

"If sensible means as elitist as Daddy Dearest then yes, I agree." I said easily, leaning back in my chair as if I were comfortable, and Celia glared at me.

"Don't talk about my father." She muttered.

"Then don't talk about my head of house." I retorted, and Celia fell silent. I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to be saying to Longbottom." Liam muttered after a second beside me, and I opened my eyes to squint at him: Liam and I weren't friends, and yet here he was, talking to me. What was it with this school year? First Albus, then Fred, then Rory, and now Liam. Why couldn't everyone just—remember to not talk to me? Life was so much freaking easier when I'd been just as ignored ever.

"You could tell him you wanted to be a Cornish Pixie when you grow up." I told him in an overindulgent voice, as if he were a little kid. Maybe if I got him angry—which, frankly, it wasn't hard to do with Liam—he'd get the idea that I wasn't too into chatting with him.

"What do you want to be?" Liam demanded, ignoring me and blatantly stomping on my attempt to alienate him. I shrugged, not answering his question.

"I've got a couple of things in mind." I said vaguely.

"Helpful." Liam said irritatedly, rolling his eyes. That was the point, I growled mentally, but Liam seemed undaunted by my obvious disinclination to talk to him, so he continued. "Anything more specific?"

"None of your business," I said through gritted teeth. What planet could Liam possibly be from that he wasn't picking up on these signals? Liam and I weren't friends for a reason; we were both too hot-headed. He got mad too fast and I was too angry at everyone for not minding their own business. Together it was only a matter of seconds before we spontaneously combusted.

"Interestingly enough, Molly, me asking you what you want to do with your life in general isn't that big a deal." Liam pointed out, and I glared at him, before looking straight ahead. "Mol-ly," Liam whined, but I heard the deeper irritation in his voice: he was close to giving up. Despite Liam and I sharing our general anger with the world, he gave up faster than I did, and hadn't held a grudge insofar as I remembered. I, on the other hand, was more stubborn than a Swedish Short Snout, and I could hold a grudge until the end of time.

"Why do you even care? You can't stand me, most of the time." I pointed out quietly. Liam shrugged a little uncertainly, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "Liam." I said plaintively.

"Well I was kind of hoping for ideas—my mum's a muggle and she's the one who raised me so I've actually not got much of an idea of what Wizarding adults do other than be Harry Potter…" Liam said with a sheepish smile. I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm muggleborn too, so not much help from me…" I pointed out, and I heard Celia scoff disgustedly. I turned to smile faux-charmingly at her. "Got something to add, Celia darling?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes, looking away from me and crossing her legs in the other direction. I snorted elegantly before looking back at Liam.

"You're muggleborn?" Liam asked, frowning confusedly at me. "I thought…you and Rosie are best friends from before school, weren't you?" He asked; I blinked. Did everyone just assume Rose and I were best friends from before us starting at Hogwarts? Why? It was no wonder we were best friends—we were the only two girls in the Gryffindor our year. We were either going to wind up best friends or mortal enemies. And Rose had some annoying qualities, but certainly not enough to make me hate her. Besides—at the end of the day, she was awfully trustworthy.

"Nope. Born and raised in Nottingham by a computer programmer and a secretary." I told him frankly, and Liam raised his eyebrows.

"But if you've not known Rose since before we started Hogwarts, why do Rose's parents have custody of you after the—" He asked after a second, frowning, and in the half a sentence he got out, I immediately grabbed his arm and dug my nails into him.

"I told you not to say anything about that to anyone." I hissed at him, narrowing my eyes instantly. Liam glared at me, straightening up. "And more than that, it's not any of your fucking business who has custody of me."

"Get your hand off my arm, Gale—"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Fitzroy—"

"Liam Fitzroy." Professor Longbottom called out, from the doorway to his office, as the girl who'd gone before Liam left, clutching a few papers. I released Liam and he pinched me as he rose to his feet. I glared at him, muttering a knot-tying curse: his shoes untied themselves, then tied themselves together. Liam stumbled, then fell to his knees, causing an eruption of laughter. He swore under his breath as he got to his feet, flashing me a glare before he slipped into the office. Longbottom raised his eyebrows at me, and I smiled politely at him; he sighed heavily, before following Liam into his office.

I sank back in my chair, resigning myself to silence for however long it took Liam to talk to Longbottom, but Celia ruined that. "So." She said, and as I turned to her, I realized she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. That wasn't good. I just glared at her, though. "You're legally one of the Weasels, now, hmm?" She asked.

Oh, shit.

I pulled my wand from my robes and, in a heartbeat, I had it pointed at her, my glare merciless. "Celia, you will not say a word about this or so help me God—"

"Your muggle parents get tired of having such a freak for a daughter?" Celia demanded with a cruel smile, completely ignoring my glare, and I felt this situation slip out of my grasp. "What happened? Did they kick you out?"

"I wonder if your parents ever get tired of having such a bitch for a kid." I retorted in a hiss. Celia raised her eyebrows: my lack of response was all the answer she needed. "Suppose it's to be expected, though—wasn't your father a death eater?" Celia flinched at this, but fell silent, and I relaxed. "I thought so." I growled, sitting back in my chair. Celia and I stared forward, glaring at the wall across the hall.

"He served his time," Celia began, glaring at me, her voice low as she broke our minute-long cease fire. I almost flinched at her words; I didn't want to have this conversation with her. "He got the stupid tattoo blasted off his arm, and got a job on the up & up at the Ministry." Celia continued angrily, and I stared stonily across the hall. "What would make it better?" She asked me rhetorically. "Exactly how much does my dad have to give before he's forgiven?" She glanced at me, her eyebrows drawn together angrily. "He spent seven years in Azkaban. That's a hell of a price to pay for no forgiveness."

"Well, you obviously think my parents are worthless and they've done nothing wrong." I pointed out quietly, looking at her irritatedly. Yes, yes, Poor Celia and her unforgiven death eater father. But she was walking around thinking that muggles were the worst and purebloods were the best. She couldn't have it both ways, where her father was blameless and still believed that crap.

Celia and I fell silent, this time for longer; my gaze dropped my wand, which was in my hand, resting on my lap, and I played with it, looking down at it. My wand was short—only nine and a quarter inches, with a liquid core, though I'd long since forgotten what was inside. The wood was black walnut, with a ridged handle that had worn down a little from where I usually held it. I loved my wand—I'd bought it with Professor Longbottom in August before my first year, after he'd come to tell me that I was a witch. Usually parents took you, but Dad had packed up my family after he'd found out what I was and taken all of them on vacation. I remembered that Longbottom had tried to talk him down—but it hadn't worked, obviously. Dad returned a week and a half later with all the kids in tow; I'd been staying with Longbottom's somewhat frightening grandmother because he hadn't been sure what to do with the kid whose parents had so obviously ditched her. Mum had come by when they came back to pick me up, and when I got home, Dad wasn't talking to me. He didn't speak a word to me until I came home for Christmas that year.

"Molly Gale," Professor Longbottom said easily from the doorway to his office, and Liam walked out, shooting Longbottom a glare, then me. I just glared back at him, pushing myself to my feet and stalking past Liam, shooting him a sarcastic half-smile as I slipped into Longbottom's office. Longbottom closed the door behind him as he followed me in, and I sank into the chair in front of his desk. Professor Longbottom walked around his desk. He sat down in his chair behind the desk and flashed me a sympathetic smile. "How have you been?"

"Fine." I said flatly, meeting his gaze evenly. I wasn't letting Longbottom off the hook for what he'd said last time we'd met.

"That's good." Professor Longbottom said easily. "And Cormac?"

"He's fine." I said stonily. Longbottom looked at me apologetically.

"I'd like to apologize for what I said." He said quietly. "About you being a bad influence on your brother." I said nothing, and Longbottom continued. "You're trying, I know you are. I can't imagine being you." He smiled a little. "I went home that night, after I scolded you, and my grandmother asked after you—she was quite fond of you, you know—and I mentioned what had happened that day, and how I'd responded to it." He sighed quietly, folding his hands on his desk. "She must have yelled at me for forty five minutes." He smiled ruefully.

"Why?" I asked after a second, frowning a little.

"Because, as she pointed out to me, I was awfully hard on a fifteen-year-old girl whose brother respects her enough not to talk back to her." Longbottom said quietly. I pushed my hair out of my face uncomfortably. "So I'm sorry." I regarded him for a long moment—Longbottom was irritating, but usually genuine. He wouldn't have apologized unless he meant it.

"It's fine." I said quietly.

"Thanks." Professor Longbottom said with a kind smile. "So, Molly, on to the point of the meeting: OWLs are coming up at the end of the year, and I was wondering if you had any plans for your future?" He asked this question as if it were just another stupid question, some trivial fact I should have known. But I didn't know where I was living next summer. So my big-picture future was kind of questionable to say the least.

"I'm not entirely sure." I said quietly. I shot him a bitter, half-smile. "Of course, I'm also not entirely sure where I'm going to be living when I'm not at Hogwarts, so my career is the least of my worries right now, isn't it?" I kept my voice quiet, but Longbottom smiled slightly at me.

"Kind of awful world we live in that you're not the first kid to say that to me." Longbottom murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Look, Molly, you have legal guardians for a reason. Where Ron and Hermione Weasley live, you live. They take care of you. You have a monthly allowance, in so far as I am aware." He smiled a little. "They're not just there in name. I know Ron and Hermione want you to talk to them, get closer to you."

I stared at Professor Longbottom for a long moment. "I have parents, you know. My mum wrote me a letter, even." I swallowed. "They love me." I sounded like a toddler, but I was already too far gone to care.

"I know that, sweetheart," Professor Longbottom said gently. I flinched at his tone, wrapping my arms around my stomach as I tried, physically and mentally, to hold myself together. "I think your dad's scared of magic, Molly. And from what I hear—especially from Hermione and Harry, both of whom you talked to the night your dad kicked you out—it's blinded him." Professor Longbottom leaned forward. "But the beauty of Hogwarts, of this whole Wizarding world that is separate from your parents—what your dad thinks doesn't have to matter, here." He smiled a little at me. "I know the night that your dad kicked you out seems like the end of everything, Molly." He was holding my gaze, sounding completely trustworthy. "But it doesn't have to be. Cormac and you have a real chance with Ron and Hermione." He sighed. "You've got to take a leap of faith with the Weasleys and let yourself get comfortable with them."

I stared at Professor Longbottom across the desk. How this conversation had gotten this serious this quickly stunned me. But now we were here. And as much as it made me uncomfortable to admit it, out of all the screwy adults in my life, I trusted Professor Longbottom. He was always honest with me, and he had never done anything malicious—even what he'd said about me screwing up Cormac had been in Cory's best interest. Anyone who worked in my brother's best interest was certainly my ally. And what he was offering was freaking tempting—letting Mr. and Mrs. Weasley be the grownups. Letting myself relax.

But I had something left at home. I couldn't leave Nate and Cal and Ellie and Mum and Dad. Even if it would be easier. I couldn't do it. "I want to." I told him after a second, a lump in my throat as my voice got hoarser. "I want to be just—one of them." I swallowed. "But I can't. My family's still my family, and no matter how stupid my dad acts, he's still my dad. I can't leave them." I shook my head, and Professor Longbottom sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Alright, sweetheart." He said softly. I watched him warily as we sat there, silently. "Do you ever hear from your family, other than that one letter from your mother?" He asked me quietly. I nodded, but didn't speak; I'd talked too much already about my home life—said a lot I hadn't meant to. I was going to shut up now. "You're done talking." He assumed aloud, and I nodded, giving him a half a smile: I was getting too predictable. Professor Longbottom opened the drawer to his right and pulled out a packet of papers, sliding it across the desktop. "Alright, well, Molly, I'm going to give you an aptitude test—please take it before we meet again in January." He smiled at me. "If you'll send in Celia…"

"Sure." I murmured, grabbing the papers from the desk. I stood up, before I looked seriously at Professor Longbottom. "I'm not going to lie to you, I think I'm in far over my head here, and I am all too aware that anyone with eyes can see that." I told him quietly, and I saw my professor raise his eyebrows. "But I hope you know that I'm still the end of the line with Cormac. No matter who our legal guardians are, no matter my family's state at the time—I'm going to make whatever decision I think is right regarding Nate, Cory, Cal, and Ellie. They're my siblings and my responsibility. And if I think Cory would benefit from living with Mum and Dad over holiday, than that's my choice. There is not a person or a court in the world that could take that choice away from me."

"I'll pass that on to Ron and Hermione." Professor Longbottom murmured. I nodded, before I turned, exiting the office.

So that hadn't gone the way I wanted it to. But at least everyone knew my priorities now.

My family came first.


A/N: sooo this is late and i sincerely apologize for that, but i've had one hell of weekend. Good news prevails though: I'm out on Christmas break from my school for the next two weeks, & the Philadelphia Eagles (an American football team for any of my readers outside of my general area) won tonight in this amazing play... anyway, it was an awfully nice conclusion to an otherwise crappy weekend. so i finished up this chapter.

thank you to all of my reviewers from last chapter... NotADreamYetNotANightmare, Hushpuppy22, KaitlynEmmaRose, Molivline, Skittles31 and sInGiNg In ThE rAiN. You guys make my day :)