A/N: Ha! I just got out of picking my litle sister up from school which meant that I could finish this and post it, as opposed to waiting for the rest of the week. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I'd love to say that own HP and his fabulous world. I really really do. But if I did I'd get sued and my legal aid isn't all that great, so I won't.

Dreams are not good things.

Especially dreams in which Malfoy and I have physical contact.

And not the fist in his stomach, knee in his groin type physical contact either.

I mean the mouth, hands, and tongue type of physical contact.

It's no wonder that I wake up covered in sweat.

They're not dreams, they're nightmares.

Because I have a boyfriend, who I've barely been seeing for twelve hours, and already I'm having cringy thoughts about another guy.

Malfoy, of all people.

That fact that I now officially have Malfoy on the brain scares me more than anything in the world.

More than all my family dying, or Voldemort returning or being expelled from school.

Which makes me doubly grateful that he's still in bed when I sneak out of the portrait hole and quietly make my way down to breakfast at twenty past eight.

It means that absolutely no interaction with him is necessary, which in turn means that I can't say, or do, anything idiotic.

There is a multitude of my family already at breakfast when I arrive; Al, Freddie, Louis, Lucy and Roxanne, so I can sit down and not have to discuss any emotional type of feeling, since Lily isn't there, and everyone else seems to have Quidditch on the brain.

"Tryouts are this Saturday afternoon Rosie" Freddie greets, his badge also gleaming on his chest, same red and gold colours, but a little smaller than mine. I nod, to show him that I've heard and the arrangements suit me, and then pick up a slice of toast from the toast rack, butter it and allow myself to wallow in self pity.

I am a poor, pathetic, wretched excuse for a Gryffindor, for a Weasley, even for a girl.

Letting myself be attracted to a stupid, egotistical, self-centered slimeball like Malfoy.

A stupid, egotistical, self-centered slimeball who has the most delicious mouth, and cold grey eyes that shine with intelligence and abs that even the illustrious James Potter would die for.

There I go again.

I need to stop doing that.

At least in public.

Because it makes my eyes go out of focus and my mouth kind of opens a little bit.

Which is really quite noticeable.

"Rose, are you okay?" Lucy asks, ever the polite young lady, which is entirely Aunt Audrey's fault.

"Hmm?" I mumble, "Yeah, Luce, yeah I'm fine"

Lucy scowls, she is to Luce as I am to Rosie; we both feel that it's childish and irritating to have stupid nicknames when both of our names are short enough as it is.

"Aah, sorry Lucy. It's difficult when someone you've known as Luce for your entire life decides that she wants to be called Lucy" I reply apologetically, and her eyes narrow.

"Yes, well, it's difficult to call somebody you've known as Rosie all your life Rose, but I still pay you the courtesy of doing it"

I give up, because Malfoy has just strolled through the door of the Great Hall.

I do wish my heart would stop doing that stupid fluttery thing.


Weasley looks up when I walk through the door of the Great Hall.

As soon as my eyes meet hers, she looks down at her toast, before throwing it down onto her plate, propping her elbow on the table and resting her face in the palm of her upturned hand.

Trouble in paradise already?

Oh no, we already went through that one, didn't we?

I take my place next to Mariah, who looks happy, seeing as though we had our 'couple' time last night.

Which basically involved us lying on the sofa in the sitting room and making Lassiter and Weasley feel as uncomfortable as was physically possible, which was really rather, if Weasley's face was anything to go by.

"Morning, Scorp" she greets, as cheerfully as a girl of her class and stature can, and lets me pour her tea, which is the most ritualistic that we ever get.

"So, I was thinking" she continues, as a pack of owls flies through a window and start distributing mail to various pupils, "Obviously after we finish school, we've got summer. I think we should get married then"

I can't help but choke a little bit on my coffee.

Her eyebrows rise as I splutter, but she stops talking, giving me time to reply.

"Don't you think that this year is a bit premature Mariah?" I ask, my throat burning and my heart racing, which is nothing to do with the coffee, and something to do with blind fear.

"Of course not" Mariah responds calmly, "Your parents got married in the summer after the seventh year, my parents got married in the summer after the seventh year, pureblood marriages are traditionally then"

Dear Merlin.

As traditional as I am, this is one convention I'd rather not conform to.

"I know, but our parents got married after the War. We don't have to rush it. There's no need" I say firmly, which is no use at all, because she's not buying it.

"There's no discussion about it Scorpius. When I said 'I think' what I actually meant is that it's already been arranged"

Cue more choking.

"You did what?" I gasp, uncharacteristically, as Mariah sighs.

"I didn't do anything" she replies icily, sipping her tea. "Our parents arranged it. July 29th. That's the day I become Mrs Mariah Malfoy"

I want to do the hyperventilating, hand flapping, tears thing that teenage girls always manage to carry off so beautifully.

But I don't, obviously.

"Right, okay then. Well, it's nice that I was consulted before all this was set up" I say acidly, and Mariah grits her teeth, in a way that reassures me that if it wasn't unbecoming to the situation, she'd be yelling at me right now.

"Like I was?" she snaps back. "Grow up Scorpius. I've had the ring on my finger since we were fifteen"

Which is true.

Unfortunately.


I carry my letter out of breakfast, since by the handwriting I can tell it's from my mom, and will therefore be a three foot epic saga, emphasised by the thickness of the envelope.

It's definitely an after dinner reading assignment, as opposed to a quick reminder from home.

"Hey, Rose, wait already!" Albus cries, since I'm storming ahead on my way to Transfiguration.

Sighing heavily, I fall back behind a group of giggling second year witches to wait for my cousin, even though I'm not in the mood for company at the moment.

"Something's wrong with you" Al announces, when he's finally caught up with me.

Is it really that obvious?

"No, there's not" I reply evenly, averting my gaze from his eyes, though he can still tell that I'm lying.

He's my closest cousin, of course he knows I'm lying.

"I hear that you and Daniel made it official last night" he says, in that questioning tone of his.

I just nod sullenly.

Damn Scorpius Malfoy.

"But you're not so happy about it?"

Now he's just being silly.

"Course I'm happy Al. He's gorgeous, and sensitive and polite. Mom'll love him"

I am such a liar.

Not that mom won't love him. And not that he's not all those things I just said. But, that I'm happy.

I'm not happy.

Can you tell?

"Come on Rose" Al pushes, "I've known you since forever, this isn't happy Rose" He lowers his voice to a whisper "This is Rose pining for Malfoy, even though she'll never be able to have him"

Why can my life not just be simple?

"Thanks for the input Al" I snap back, "Your own love life is just so healthy that I need your help"

The ever level-headed Potter just smiles and shakes his head, ignoring my low blow.

Which makes me about five times angrier.

"Look, Malfoy was just a one-off, alright? Would I be seeing Danny in Hogsmeade on Saturday if I was 'pining for Malfoy'?"

There is only the tiniest of pauses before Al responds.

"You can't" he says simply.

Oh, for Merlin's sake.

Can he not just keep his nose out of other people's business?

"Why?" I ask, cuttingly, "Because Malfoy is my one true love, it would be a betrayal of my deep seated adoration for him?"

The sarcasm even hurts me, it's so sharp.

"No" he replies pragmatically, "Because Quidditch tryouts are on Saturday"

Somebody somewhere has really got it in for Rose Weasley.


Every single lesson of the day passes with an ache.

Marry Mariah in July?

I always knew it was going to happen, like she said, I had that ring on her finger since we were fifteen.

And I knew that one day she would eventually have to become Mrs Mariah Malfoy, I just didn't realise that one day would be so soon.

It's like I can feel my freedom ebbing away from me.

Every time I breathe there is one less breath before we become the same people as our parents.

Our parents do not have harmonious relationships.

Like I already explained, there is a certain way that marriages in our type of family go.

It's not the true love, romantic approach either.

It's more of the 'oh look, we're even richer now' kind.

And, alright, money is important, image is important, but I'd rather not be tied to Mariah for the rest of my life.

I console myself with the fact that once we are married, I won't have to see her nearly so often if my parents are anything to go by.

I never thought I'd find myself saying it, but maybe there is something to be said for the way that Weasley views the concept of matrimony.

As in 'oh, I really love him, I want to spend the rest of my life with him'

Being a Malfoy brings the advantages of respect and wealth and all that, but it also brings the fact that I'm obliged to marry a girl I don't even like that much.

The more naïve of people would just ask whether I couldn't request that I don't marry Mariah.

These naïve people are also the most insane people on the planet, because this is the way that the conversation between my father and I would go:

"I know that this has been arranged for years but I just can't see me and Mariah getting married"

"And you think that I thought that your mother and I would ever work?"

"Well, it doesn't work, does it?"

"No, and if I had to do it Scorpius, you have to do it too. It's part of becoming a man"

See what I mean?

The insightful Draco Malfoy once again gives his son another pearl of wisdom.

I can see why nobody likes him.

And the horrific thing is that I will one day be him, and Mariah will one day be my mother and I will be just as useless when it comes to giving 'advice' to my son.

Years ago, I used to think that being a Malfoy somehow made me better than everybody else.

What it actually makes me is heartless.

Fantastic.


"No"

Not my favourite word right now.

"Please Freddie, I'm begging you here"

That stupid Weasley grin is the most irksome invention to have ever graced the face of the planet.

"I already moved them from last weekend so that Lils could make it, I'm not changing my arrangements again"

I really want to strangle Fred Weasley at this precise moment in time.

Really badly.

"But, if you don't move them then I can't go to Hogsmeade and see Danny" I wail, imagining how Al's face would look if I had to cancel.

"So, it's time to test where your loyalties lie Rosie. Quidditch or Lassiter? Although, should you even be seeing him? He's a member of the Ravenclaw team, after all."

With a screech of discontent, I hiss back "You close minded, victory orientated, malicious-"

My brain fails me.

"Kid" I finish lamely, which makes Freddie laugh harder.

Kid?

The best I can come up with is kid?

What's going on with my brain?

"Yes, that's me" he replies jovially, "Close minded, victory orientated, malicious kid"

I storm out of the Gryffindor common room before my nervous system fails me and I end up mortally wounding a relative.

"So, I'll see you Saturday then Rose?" Freddie calls out after me.

It's all I can do to stop myself from hurling curse after curse back through the portrait hole back at him.

Grandma Molly wouldn't be happy if she'd seen that conversation.

And there's her saying that Freddie's the most family spirited, most accommodating of her lovely grandchildren.

Did I already say that someone somewhere really has it in for me?

Yes, I did.

Well, I'm going to say it again.

Somebody somewhere has really got it in for Rose Weasley


"Do not speak to me"

Weasley doesn't look happy as she climbs through the portrait hole.

"Evening to you too, Weasley" I reply, looking up from an Astronomy essay.

She flops down on the sofa, shooting me one of her trademark 'evil' looks.

"I don't need you to make a bad day any worse" she says, but there's no bite in her voice.

"Need to talk?"

What?

What?

That just came out of my mouth?

Merlin.

She looks just as surprised as I feel.

"Yes, but not to you" she replies, and once again, the words have no real malice in them, so I'm not hurt. "No," she continues, "That's not true. Sorry Malfoy, that was uncalled for. Sure, talk, yeah, that'd be good"

An apology?

And before I can contemplate how weird this situation is (wands not out, no snarling, no shouting) Weasley is sniffling and spouting words that have no real meaning since I can only make out about one in three of them.

"Whoa, slow down" I plead, since there are now tears streaming down her face.

She's one of those girls who looks good when she's crying.

No red eyes, no puffiness, she looks normal.

Which doesn't help.

"It's just that, I thought-" she's burbling, and I am so out of my depth here.

I've never done this before.

Come on, Mariah isn't the type of girl that has ever needed a shoulder to cry on.

"Do you mind starting from the beginning, Rose?" My use of her first name is tentative, at the very best.

And so, that is how I come to know that Weasley feels nothing for Lassiter, she's using him to get at some guy that she likes, her family won't stop interfering, and something to do with Quidditch tryouts on Saturday, involving her cousin (one of many) and her hating life.

Right.

"Why exactly do you think that seeing Lassiter is going to help you out with this other guy?" I ask, and I still haven't asked her who this mysterious man is, because I don't want to push my luck.

"Read it in one of my mom's Witch Weekly magazines" she replies feebly, at which I just have to laugh.

"So your mother reads that rubbish as well, huh?"

At least I get a smile.

"Look" I say, as gently as I can, "Playing games like that, it's never going to work"

She doesn't reply for a lengthy period of time.

"Why not?" she asks, in a voice that is much younger than her seventeen years.

"Can't you just tell him straight?"

I'm exasperated but girls aren't as logical thinking as guys, it's a proven fact.

"It'd never work" she sighs, and her tears have dried, leaving her eyes glazed "Besides, he doesn't like me. It's obvious."

Okay, I'm in over my head right now.

I am not a relationship councillor.

"Why would any guy not like you?" I ask, and even though she clearly thinks that I'm on some weird trip, I actually mean it.

"It's complicated" she replies slowly, looking into my eyes without shuddering or turning away.

"If you like him enough complications will disappear over time"

She sighs again, showing that I really don't get this whole heartbreak thing, and says quietly, "Thanks for listening Scorpius"

Whoever knew that four little words could mean so much?