''Cause you're too sexy, beautiful.' - Nick Jonas, Jealous

In a blaze of lust, essays, and ever-increasing unexplained tension between Ria and Lucien, the Easter holidays creep up on me with a sun-kissed hug and the promise of no school for two blessed weeks.

"Have fun, Rosie! Owl me if you've forgotten your bikini or something."

"You know I will, hunny bunny. It's gonna be awesome!"

"Don't study too hard, okay? I know you've taken some of the holiday homework to do, but it's only sixth year, and you've got a whole week before school to do them once you get back, Rose."

"But, Sander … okay, fine. Scor said he'd burn my textbooks if I even tried to unpack them in the hotel, anyway."

"See you later, bitch. Remember that sex in public places is illegal even in Egypt."

"Al, shut up! My parents are here!" She hisses.

I look around to where Uncle Ron is trying to subtly glare at Scor, and Aunt Hermione seems to be telling her husband off.

"If they don't know by now that you're a complete slut, then Aunt Hermione's intelligence has been completely overrated."

"Al, I swear to Hecate, if you don't lower your voice right now, I will - "

"Rose!" Thankfully, Hugo finally gives up defending Uncle Ron from Aunt Hermione's wrath, to walk over and give his sister an awkward hug before she can finish her threat. She beams and immediately begins slobbering his face in kisses.

Emma glances around, as if to ensure that no one else in Luton's portkey terminal is watching the embarrassing exchange.

"Bloody hell, Rose, it's not like you haven't gone on holiday for more than a week before." Hugo pats her on the back and pushes her away gently.

She shrugs and ignores his words. "You've got saliva on your face."

Hugo looks mildly disgusted but not totally surprised as he accepts Emma's offer of a tissue. Living with Rose, he's had about sixteen years to get used to spit on his face.

"Darling, you've remembered your sunscreen?"

"Yes, mum."

"And the ticket for your return portkey?"

"Yes, mum."

"And your - "

"'Mione, lay off. It's Rose – she can take care of herself." Uncle Ron cuts off Aunt Hermione quickly, as she fusses over Rose.

I snort.

Uncle Ron lowers his voice, glancing to where Scor and Ria are standing some way off. "Look, Rosie, if he ever gets out of line, you know I'm just a floo call away, alright?"

"Dad, you've known him for seven years, and I've gone on holiday with him before!"

"But not with just you and him alone!"

"I know. I'll be fine. Love you, dad." She engulfs him in a tight hug.

I wander over casually and cough quietly behind her. "Daddy's girl."

She kicks me.

"Scor!" Lysander calls across the floor, to where Scor and Ria are talking earnestly next to a butterbeer outlet. "If you don't hurry up, you'll miss your portkey."

They look up, and then embrace in a tight hug that seems to last for a long time, before they finally break apart and walk over.

Ria kisses Rose on the cheek as Scor embraces Emma and Lysander, gives me a manly hug, shakes Uncle Ron's hand, nods at Hugo, smiles at Aunt Hermione, and then locks eyes with Ria again. "Firecall me, okay?"

She smiles. "You know it. Now get lost."

And finally, after ten ridiculously long minutes of saying goodbye – come on, it's not like they won't be back in seven days – Scor takes Rose's hand as she holds on tightly to their luggage, and they grab hold of the postcard portkey as it glows blue and spins them away on their way to Egypt.

After Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione and Hugo have left (probably off to have a party to celebrate Rose's departure) and after we grab some lunch in London, Emma and Lysander Disapparate to Diagon Alley because Lysander needs some new shoes and only Emma is willing to help him shop, and Ria and I waste away the rest of the day in the glorious mess that is Camden Town and finally end up in a Muggle nightclub as the sky begins to get dark.

"You want a mocktail?" I snort, staring at her across the booth we have somehow managed to get. "Since when do you go to a nightclub and not get wasted?"

"Don't worry, it's just for tonight." She looks at me, dark eyes shining and silver-tipped hair glowing in the minimal light, as she shrugs, "I just miss Scor."

I sigh. Although I'm shit at dealing with feelings, I'm pretty relieved that she actually told me outright instead of just shutting me out like I fully expected her to. "He only left a few hours ago."

"Yeah, I know," Ria leans back against the sofa, voice still clear across the pounding music, "But he's going to be gone for a week, and honestly, I've never been without him for more than a day before."

I stand up and kiss her. "Well suck it up, because you've got me, and Emma, and Lysander, and that job at Dom Maestro's, and we're gonna get you through this. Along with the very alcoholic cocktail I'm going to go and get you now. Deal?"

She stares at me for a minute.

I ruffle my hair. "What?"

Ria smirks, "I should appreciate you a hell of a lot more." She laughs as I am mortified to feel my ears go red. "Deal."

I frown, before remembering that I offered to get her a drink, and push away through the crowd before I can embarrass myself even more.

The bartender flexes his arms almost casually as I order the drinks and I grin. I've almost missed all the flirting. But instead of pulling out some smooth pickup lines, I just wink at him and take the drinks back to the table.

Where a handsome guy in a shirt and scarf is leaning against the sofa, talking to my girlfriend.

If I was a Ravenclaw, maybe I'd slow down and discern the friendly-and–not-at-all flirtatious expression on Ria's face; if I was a Hufflepuff, maybe I'd go back to the bar and get a drink for the guy to say 'no hard feelings, but mate, back the fuck off'; if I was a Slytherin, maybe I'd identify the unfamiliar feeling in my gut as jealousy, and take a moment to tell myself exactly how much better I am that this tosser in my booth, and why I should definitely not be feeling jealous. But I'm an impulsive fucking Gryffindor, which is why I down my drink in one, ruffle my hair sexily, saunter over the booth, and growl "That's my girlfriend, you bastard" in his ear as I shove his face against the wall.

"Al!" Ria yanks me away firmly. "What are you doing? He was just asking me where I got my hair done because his girlfriend wanted to – wait." Suddenly, she's frowning as if confused. "Were you … jealous?"

I push her glass into her hands. "No, but I need another drink." I turn and make my way back to the bar.

I easily push some dancers out of the way and slump on a bar stool.

What the fuck is happening? I don't get jealous over girls.

"Need another drink?"

I look up. The ripped bartender is shooting me a grin, glass full of amber liquid in his hand.

"Yeah, what the hell." I say, leaning on the bar. "Hit me up."

His biceps ripple through his thin black t-shirt as he slides the glass across the counter towards me, hand resting on mine just a second longer than normal when I take it.

I grin. This is a game I know how to play.

Ria had better be watching.

As if she knows I'm thinking about her, my tall, tanned, gorgeous girlfriend walks up, in her scarlet romper and combat boots, and takes the bar stool next to me.

I grit my teeth to apologise to her or something, but before I can say anything, the bartender turns to face her, still leaning across the bar towards me, and says, "What can I get you?"

Ria pauses, scanning the drinks behind him as if considering her options, then seemingly catches sight of me out of the corner of her eye and turns to face me, eyes raking obviously up and down my body appreciatively. "I'll have whatever he's having."

The bartender scowls as she winks at me.

In that moment, I understand exactly what she's doing, and I lean towards her, clenching my arms noticeably under my leather jacket. "You want to share my juice?"

She smirks. "Only if you tell me your name."

"Does it matter?"

"It does if you want me to call it out when you fuck me tonight."

The bartender slams the drink down in front of her with unnecessary force. "Excuse me, but - " We ignore him.

"Oh, so you're that kind of girl."

"You seem like that kind of guy."

"I'm the kind of guy who needs a girl who won't break when I spank her."

Ria's eyes darken impossibly and the bartender coughs loudly and turns to me. "Hey, I thought we - "

Ria cuts him off when she abruptly turns to him. "Got a quill?"

He just frowns at her and she sighs and grabs the pen out of his shirt pocket, taking my hand and writing a random sequence of numbers I know she's just made up on the spot.

"Then call me when you're done here."

I down the rest of my drink and catch her hand as she makes to leave. "I'm done now."

"Then I know a place we can go that's a little more - " she steps right up to me, looking straight at the bartender as she whispers in my ear, "- private."

The bartender's eyes widen in realisation. "You know her, don't you?" He addresses me, scowling.

I wink at him. "No, but I wish I did."

And then my hands are wrapped around her wrist and we're pushing through the dancers quickly, out of a side door and into a narrow alleyway.

I growl and push her against the wall outside.

She laughs and reaches up to kiss me. "That was hot."

I pull away and search her face. "Were you jealous?"

Ria frowns, almost confused again. "No. Should I have been?" When I don't answer, she considers it. "But I'd be pissed if you actually did something with him."

I kiss her again. "Never."

She grins up at me. "Then let's go." And we're spinning away with the uncomfortable yet very welcome feeling of Disapparition.

I wake up with a start as a loud crash jars through my sleep. When I see the clock on the bedside table displaying a horribly early 07:52, I groan and attempt to go back to sleep, before opening my eyes again and frowning at the clock. It's not my school clock in the shape of breasts or my motorbike-shaped home clock. It's round, blue, and dusty, like it's never been used. I raise myself up from the bed on one elbow and look around the big room slowly. The floor is strewn with colourful clothes nearly obscuring an incongruously neat pile of pressed chinos, a half-unpacked trunk lies in the corner, a shelf is stacked with CDs, and a Gryffindor banner has been stuck proudly over the window. I flop back onto my back; it's Ria's room.

Satisfied with my sleuthing skills, I turn over, fully expecting to be able to lay my arm over my sleeping girlfriend and join her in sleep for a few more hours, but am instead confronted with a weirdly empty bed.

Ria Black does not wake up before 8 o'clock – not even in school.

I shrug and resolve to solve this mystery in a few hours, before another loud crash has me groaning and pulling on a pair of Scor's sweatpants folded carefully on a hanger nearby, to investigate the crashing that has interrupted my beauty sleep.

By the time I am half way down the stairs, the sound of music playing has reached my ears, and so I follow the music (as well as the loud crashing) to the kitchen.

The kitchen is a complete mess.

The smell of burning bread is faint in the air, but there is water splashed on the floor, milk painting the cupboards, and egg yolk dripping off the counters. And right in the middle of it all is Ria, legs bare and hair in a bun, dressed in a pair of my boxers and one of Scor's more casual shirts, happily flipping an omelette on a saucepan with her back to me, and singing along loudly to the music, looking completely oblivious to the devastation surrounding her.

"I think I'm in love with you." I say.

The singing stops immediately and she whips around, omelette sliding dangerously in the pan.

Shit. I have never said that to someone and meant it (except for Amy Livingston, but only James really cares about her now).

Ria and I stare at each other for a moment, and then her face splits into the biggest grin I've seen. She flips the omelette onto a plate, steps over to me (uncaring of the deluge on the floor), grabs my hand, and proceeds to spin me around what once used to be a kitchen, singing like a maniac.

It takes until the song on the music player stops before I am able to push her down onto a stool and catch my breath.

I lean my forehead against hers, black hair merging, and Ria grins up at me. "I think I'm in love with you too."

Before I can control my expression, a beam escapes onto my face, until I catch her smirking at me and I cough, ruffle my hair and sit down on a stool, effectively ruining the sappiness of the moment.

"Why're you up so early?"

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unappreciative of the change in subject. "Well, lover boy, a fucker decided to firecall me at half past bloody seven in the morning to make sure I'm not late to my first day at Dominic Maestro's."

"Ah, too bad you've got to go." I pull the plate towards myself and grab a knife and fork. "I thought we could continue from our activities last night."

She laughs and takes the half of the omelette I offer her. "I reckon you need to get home before your mum calls Sander's mum and finds out that you weren't over at his house last night."

"She can go f - " I swallow a bite of the omelette and frown. "Where the fuck did you learn to make omelette this good?"

Ria grins. "An old babysitter taught me and Scor how to cook breakfast. I can promise it'll be tasty, but not neat." She gazes around at the wreck of a kitchen remorselessly, before catching sight of the smoking toaster. "But I seem to have forgotten how to work that thing."

"Well at least you definitely know how to work my thing." I smirk at her.

She groans and hits me with a Stinging Jinx. "Al, your libido is out of control."

I roll my eyes and stroll over to the toaster, siphoning away the smoke with the wand lying on the counter, and putting in some fresh bread.

"How do you - "

"My dad's a bastard who thinks that bread toasted the Muggle way tastes better than magically-toasted."

"What would I do without you, lover boy?"

"Probably buy some sex t - "

"That's it, I'm leaving."