A/N: Several things to say to people: This is a bit shorter than the last couple of chapters, which is because of my exams this weak, which have naturally mentally drained me. And, I have not used a translation machine (You will understand when you read the part to which I'm referring to) and, although my French should not be rusty, seeing as how I took an exam in it on Tuesday, I am very sorry if anyone finds any gramatical inaccuracies in it, (Louis is not lying when he says that it is a rough translation, it is VERY rough.) And I think that's all I wanted to say. Except for the fact that I'm so happy that people haven't given up on me, despite the fact that I started this practically a year ago, and it's still not finished, and that you all still take time out to review. I really appreciate it. So, read!
Disclaimer: I only have the vaguest idea who the publisher is (Bloomsbury, in Britain at least, I think), and I'm sure that's one of those all important things that the real author remembers.
"And that's why I consider Halloween an intrinsic part of the history of this school, therefore, now, with me as Head Girl, would be an ideal time to instigate a new tradition"
I have just delivered my perfectly crafted 'Why you should allow me to host a Halloween Ball' speech, and there isn't much that I can do, other than show her the financial detailing (let it never be said that Rose Weasley can't handle money) and the list of potential bands (if I'm doing organisation, I'm doing it properly.) Yet, it is still with bated breath that I watch McGonagall from the other side of her desk.
"Miss Weasley, lovely as the idea is, we already have a Feast to commemorate the holiday" she replies, after consideration.
This, I had been expecting.
"But, Professor" I argue, in my most reverent and respectful tone, "The Feast is a tribute to Halloween itself. What I'm proposing is a celebration of the event that took place thirty five years ago, the event that ensured that my mother could live to see adulthood, and event which essentially allowed me to be born"
I did say that I'd prepared well.
McGonagall looks over her shoulder, towards Dumbledore's portrait. His half-moon glasses are slipping down his nose as, as he unsuccessfully pretends to snore. Because he definitely wasn't asleep a minute ago. "I sometimes wonder who's running this school" McGonagall mutters to herself, and I have to admit that I've asked myself the same question a fair few times.
"Miss Weasley, I'd like you to carry out a survey. Take a random cross-section of the school's demographic and ask them how they feel about the proposed Ball. With the results of the survey, I shall make up my mind"
So, that simple 'yes' or 'no' that I was hoping for hasn't entirely manifested itself, but then, I never expected this to be easy.
As I leave the Headmistress' office my head is spinning with figures; today is Thursday 25th September, which means that Halloween is in precisely five weeks and one day, on a Friday. This leaves me with thirty six days in which to conduct this survey, get McGonagall's permission and sort out ten million other things.
It is no wonder that by the time that I sit down to eat breakfast I can feel a headache coming on.
"Broom?" Hugo queries, through a mouthful of cornflakes, and I am reminded that this whole thing is to get back at DiNozzo.
The thought gives me a little focus, and makes the whole prospect a little less daunting.
Not that it could have gotten any more daunting.
"How did it go?" I ask Rose, as we attempt to tend to our Devil's Snare without being asphyxiated by it.
"Well" Rose replies, holding her wand at the base of the plant and saying 'Lumos', just to make my life a little easier, "She didn't flat out say no, which has got to be good"
But then that also means that she didn't flat out say 'yes', which means that Rose is going to spend lots of time stressing over this.
It is not a prospect that I greatly look forward to.
"How do you feel about the idea?" she asks casually, handing me a pair of shears.
"Never really been to one" I reply, which visibly shocks Rose, "I mean, all the stupid ones that my parents attend regularly are majorly boring, and besides, I never get invited. And since we've never had one here-"
Rose is scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment, and it doesn't register in my brain that she's put her wand down.
At least, not until the shears that I'm holding are yanked away by the spiteful plant, and my arm only just escapes the same dreadful fate.
"Oops, sorry" Rose apologises absent-mindedly, hurriedly stuffing the parchment she'd been writing on inside her robe pocket.
"Full concentration please, Rosie" Longbottom chimes, as he wanders round the Greenhouse, watching everybody work.
"How come he doesn't get reprimanded for calling you Rosie?" I demand, puzzling over how to get my shears back.
"Because" Rose explains, jabbing her wand at the plant and causing it to freeze, leaving me time to retrieve my shears, "Neville has known me since before I was born. And I'm sure I did look like the cute 'Rosie' type back then. But, you know what? I'm not even bothered anymore"
Rose goes back to her original piece of parchment, the one on which she was making notes about our Herbology assignment, and I sneak peaks at her, between cutting and discarding unhealthy shoots. Her face is so ambiguous; it's being lit up by the warm autumn sun trickling in through the glass walls, but at the same time it looks dark, like there's a rain cloud hanging over her. I can only assume that the rain cloud is this Ball idea of hers.
It's ridiculous; she's putting more pressure than necessary on herself , and I can't understand for the life of me why.
'Ma chère Victoire' I scribble, my handwriting automatically taking on the elegant cursive I use whenever I write in French, 'J'ai beaucoup que je voudrais te dire. Est-ce que nous pouvons avoir un rendez-vous très bientôt? Grosses bises, Rose'
I stow the letter in my school bag, my mind now significantly more calm at the prospect of a chat with Victoire.
"What was that?" Lily asks, eyeing me innocently.
"A letter" I reply, honestly enough, not that I have anything to hide.
"To who?" Lily demands, like there might be some secret guy in my life. (I've already had two love interests in a month, a third would be ridiculously far-fetched)
"It was to Victoire" I explain, and at the name Lily's face lights up.
"Send her my love" she says, and I nod, turning back to my salad.
"Now!"
Lily bangs her fork on the table, the picture of a two year old.
"Merlin" I exclaim, having not realised quite how literal Lily was being. I hastily retrieve the parchment, and add, 'Lily t'envoie son amour'
I've barely put my quill down when Lily snatches the parchment off the table in front of me, and shoves it in front of Louis' nose.
"Translate" she orders, at which Louis looks up, scans the piece of parchment and says, "Put very loosely, it reads, 'My dear Victoire, I've got loads I want to say to you. Can we meet up real soon? Loads of love, Rose. Lily sends her love'"
Lily looks suspiciously over at me, "What do you need to talk to Vic about, and how come you can't discuss it with me?"
The following pout is unnecessary.
"Because" I respond simply, "I don't think that you're mature enough to be of any help to me"
At this, Lily throws a complete strop, illustrating my point entirely.
Halfway through, I get bored.
"Grow up, Lily" I snap, "That's never been cute, and I find it frankly irritating now"
Lily looks like a frightened deer, as I rise from the table, taking back my private letter to Victoire from Louis.
"I don't know whether you got this before, but yes, my boyfriend is a Malfoy, and yes, I've changed. But, guess what? It's got nothing to do with any of you"
And that is why it is not sensible to bottle up emotions inside of you, because then you end up having a go at people you're not really angry at (although, I have been meaning to pull Lily up on that temper tantrum/spoilt princess thing for a while now.)
"I think I like the new Rose" Al comments, whilst I am still within hearing range.
I'm sure I say daily how much I hate my cousins, but I really don't mean it when it comes to Al.
"Mr Malfoy? A word please?"
My Defence Against the Dark Arts homework has been handed in, and I paid perfect attention in class today, so I have no idea why exactly I am being summoned to Thomas' desk.
I smile at Rose, and tell her to let Binns know that I'm probably going to be late for History of Magic (not that he'll notice my absence at all.)
"Yes, sir" I reply, approaching the desk, and noticing the photograph of a young red-headed, freckly witch, playing with gnomes in a garden.
Rose looks cute as a little girl, I can definitely see why people keep calling her Rosie.
"Did you know that Rosie's my god-daughter?" Thomas queries, gesturing the seat opposite him.
I shake my head, and continue to look at the photo. Rose's bright pink robes clash horribly with her hair, but I suppose that all little girls love pink, regardless of their hair colour.
Thomas spots my fascination with the photo, and explains, "That was taken in her Grandma Molly's back garden when she was four. She liked flowers and nature then; she was absolutely convinced that Herbology would be the only subject she would like at Hogwarts, and of course, Neville encouraged her. And then she wanted to be a Healer, and then-" Thomas suddenly breaks off, realising that he is over-sharing, "But that's not the point, Mr. Malfoy. Now, I happen to know that you and my god-daughter are-" Here, he coughs, and I'm not sure whether it's deliberate or not, but then he continues, "-an item. And although I know that she hates her birthday more that anything else in the world, I know that you, of course, have got her a present that she'll treasure just so long as she treasures you"
The blank look on my face is more expressive than words, evidently.
"Mr. Malfoy, Rose's birthday is the 19th September, or, in other words, six days ago"
"I know that, sir" I cut in quickly, not wanting him to have the same opinion of me as Potter, "It's just that Rose is a difficult girl to buy for, and I'm still having a little trouble finding her the perfect gift"
Thomas gets up from his seat, indicating the gaggle of first years congregating around his classroom door.
"I have no doubt that you'll be very successful, Mr. Malfoy. Now, we're both late for class"
As I struggle through the little Slytherins and Ravenclaws who are waiting for their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, a thought dawns upon me; that's another over protective male presence in the Castle for Rose and I to contend with.
And now I have to find a perfect belated birthday present.
Could my life get any better?
"Where have you been, mister?" I demand, as Scorpius slips into the seat next to me, about ten minutes after the official start of the lesson.
"You never told me that Thomas is your god-father" he replies, sounding accusatory.
I grimace slightly and cross my fingers, "He didn't show you that photo, did he?"
He nods, and before he can add anything else, I steam on, "Merlin! Well, at least that's the mandatory 'photo-of-your-girlfriend-wearing-nothing-at-all' bit out of the way"
Scorpius' face screws up in confusion, as he asks, "What are you talking about? I saw that photo he has of you on his desk. The one with the gnomes?"
His face lights up, mine falls simultaneously.
"Oh, he showed you that photo" I say weakly, whilst Scorpius is practically bubbling over with laughter beside me.
"Thomas has a photo of you, naked?" he demands, whilst I fiddle awkwardly with my quill.
"It was taken whilst I was in the bath" I defend, "And I was only about two"
Scorpius is trying very hard to contain his laughter, which, to be completely honest, isn't making me feel any better. "I have so got to see that photo" he sniggers, shielding his mouth with his blank parchment.
"You're not copying my notes on the sixteenth Merpeople- Wizard Convention of 1763, not if you don't stop snickering"
"I'm sorry to break up the friendly banter" Mercy Adams, a particularly obnoxious Slytherin, who was not named appropriately, cuts in, ruining what was a perfectly light hearted quarrel, "But some people in this room are actually here to learn. And I really don't appreciate having to listen to your vomit worthy conversation"
Miss Self Righteous turns back to face the blackboard, her button nose thrust into the air. I roll my eyes sarcastically at the back of her head, and pinch Scorpius' arm.
"What was that for?" he sulks, having managed to actually take down some notes by this point.
"Firstly" I start, "For disturbing the whole class, especially those who don't have the mental capacity to listen to friendly banter and filter it out from the information of a centuries old ghost. And secondly, for laughing at me"
Scorpius chews his lip thoughtfully and explains, "It wasn't you that I was laughing at. It was the, erm, metaphysical concept of the, uh, existence of such a-"
I think the look on my face pretty much sums Scorpius' words up; Total Trash.
The amazing thing is, despite the fact that I've spent the greater part of an hour long lesson engaged in conversation with Scorpius, Binns is entirely oblivious.
Oh, the advantages of having a ghost for a teacher!
"Potter, I need your help"
Mini-Potter's red hair, so much like her cousin's, is flipped over her shoulder as she looks up at me.
"It's Lily, darling" she replies, throwing her quill down.
I must say, I'm really quite surprised to have found her in the library, it was not the first place that I looked for her.
"Walk with me, Scorpius" she beckons, shutting her Divination textbook and putting it in her bag.
I'm on the verge of snapping back, "It's Malfoy," but then I consider that I am, after all, asking for her help, and that she's never really done anything all that bad to me, so I let it drop.
"Now, what's the problem?" she asks, as I follow her out of the library and through the corridors.
"If Rose could get anything in the world, money no object, what would she want?" I figure that being a girl, and a close relation of Rose's, Mini-Potter will instinctively know what I should get Rose.
She looks down at the floor as she walks, her forehead crinkled in concentration. "It's not like Rose is fussy" she eventually replies, "She's just quite specific. She likes all the regular girly things: chocolate, perfume, flowers-"
"No" I cut in abruptly, "I don't want anything regular. It has to be extraordinary"
Mini-Potter huffs, like it's some big chore that I've given her, as opposed to asking a little favour. "I understand that you want to get something special Scorpius, considering that it's late and all, but really, short of an engagement ring, there really is nothing else"
My head snaps round to look at her, my eyes wide.
Mini-Potter claps her hand over her mouth. "What? No! Really? You're going-"
"Are you kidding me?" Once again I find myself interrupting her, "We've been dating for all of a fortnight. I am not going to propose to your cousin!"
The light in Mini-Potter's eyes is extinguished, and her face falls. "Oh"
That's it, all she has to say is, "Oh"
"Well, thanks for your help anyway" I say listlessly to Mini-Potter, dejected.
Despite the fact that I have asked her, I am still seriously confused as to what to get Rose. I return to the sitting room to find Rose , spark out, on the sofa, even though it is seven thirty in the evening. On the coffee table beside her is a neat pile of essays and textbooks, next to which is another roll of parchment, full of scribblings and figures. Rose sighs in her sleep, and I curse this 'Ball' idea of hers, because it's exhausting her. Being careful not to wake her up, I scoop my beautiful girlfriend up in my arms and take her into her bedroom.
She murmurs, in her sleep, "Scorpius"
I smile.