Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"So this is it," James said, crossing his arms and looking at the broom.

"Four hours of primping and polishing and it actually looks like a quidditch broom," Fred said.

"Wand," Rose said, holding out her hand to Fred. "Greg, you're positive I won't get in trouble for this?"

"Yep. They can't track witches. They only track wands."

"Alright, alright."

"I've done a scan," Greg said. "It has a worn breaking charm, vibration control, weak staying power, a low hover, lower speeds than an average Firebolt, and the softening charm wore off a while ago."

"We might have been better off with a house broom," James said.

"No. The flight charms are still top of the line and the steering is still the best. I think it was recently re-charmed in both those areas," Rose said, running a hand over the broom handle.

"I think Ginny said the former owner was working on renovating it, but doesn't have the time," Greg said.

"Who was the former owner?"

"I don't really know."

"So, where do we start?" Fred asked, crouching low.

"We need to get the fundamentals down first - hover, brake, increase the speed and mobility, and then comfort," Rose said. "Fred, wand?"

"Are you sure you can do this?" James asked, grabbing Fred's wand from his hand.

"Yes, I'm sure I can do it," Rose said. "See the twig over there?" She motioned to the stick hovering in the corner. "I did that with Greg's wand. It'll be a lot better with Fred's. Now back up, will you? I need some space."

3

There was a sweatshirt on her bed. Rose stood in the doorway and stared at the neatly folded, bright orange Cannons sweatshirt. Her heart skipped a beat. There was a stain on it from when her father dropped his hotdog and got catsup on it and refused to let mum wash it because the Cannons won that day. She closed her door behind her and sat on her bed, her fingers lightly brushing across the fabric. She pulled it onto her lap.

There was a book underneath. A well worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. It had her dad's fifteen year old scrawl on the inside cover. "If you're reading this and I didn't let you borrow this book, you'd better put it down or I'll track you down and kill you myself (Ginny, I'm talking to you.)." She grinned and ever so gently put the worn book, the cover water stained, the pages falling out, and the binding shot, on her desk. She laid down on her bed, the sweatshirt tightly pressed to her chest, and inhaled her dad's scent. She closed her eyes, tears beginning to stream down her cheek, and eventually fell asleep.

3

"Hey, Rose, where's your mum?" Mattie Finnigan asked coming out of the closet.

"What were you doing in there?" Rose asked, watching her go through her bag and pull out a blue folder.

"Missed the apparition point. I'm so much worse than Cormack it isn't even funny. So where is she?"

"Down the hall to the left."

"Thanks."

"What are you doing?"

"Asking your mum for her opinion on some reform propositions."

"I think she might be preoccupied."

"I owl'ed her yesterday, there's no problem." Mattie waved off Rose and entered the study.

"Ugh, what's she doing here?" Hugo asked, coming down the hallway without his shirt on.

"Why are you half naked?"

"I'm trying to find a shirt I can wear to the Cottage. Dom's supposed to be giving me some Keeper lessons."

"You do realize he's worse at keeping than mum, right?"

"I need to practice. It really doesn't matter how bad he is. So do you know where the laundry is?"

"I dunno. Maybe she did something with it."

"Ugh."

Hugo rolled his eyes and slid into the alcove where the laundry machine was. He fumbled around for a few minutes and came out with a tee-shirt.

"I'm going," he said, throwing it over his head.

"When'll you be back?"

"As late as possible."

"Alright, have fun."

"Will do." He threw some floo powder on the fire.

Rose rubbed her face and glanced at the clock. She had to get to work.

3

"No. Absolutely not," Lily said. "There is no way the Harpies are going to lose."

"Shut up, you," Molly sneered. "Puddlemere is totally going to crush them."

"What about the Tornadoes?" Rose suggested. Both of her cousins looked at her like she had committed a sin.

"No," they both said.

"Harpies."

"Puddlemere."

"Briggid can't even catch a quaffle, never mind make saves."

"At least he doesn't fall off his broom every game."

"That's just because Wood actually tries to make the save."

"Why are you so insistent that Wood is some Keeper Goddess?"

"Because she is!" Lily nearly threw herself over the counter.

"No. She isn't. She's just like any other broad."

"Who happens to lead the league in saves," Rose said.

"That means nothing."

"When you're a keeper, Molly, that's all that matters."

"Ugh. You guys are both ridiculous. Why can't you see her for the whore she is?"

Lily smirked all of a sudden, and stood up straight.

"Lorcan has the hots for her, doesn't he?"

Molly's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No. Why would you…?"

"Ha!" Lily started howling, pounding the table with her fist. "He does! He so does! I bet he has a team photo, doesn't he? Probably the one when they were on their training trip in the south of France?"

Molly turned away from Lily and Rose and started sweeping. Lily kept laughing.

"One day Aeolus is going to get one of them…" Molly muttered.

"I've already told you!" Lily crossed her arms. "I don't like Aeolus! He's a prick!"

"Lily, watch your language," Aunt Angelina said, coming down the stairs with Roxy not too far behind.

"But she…"

"I don't care what she did. Just because she's being difficult doesn't mean you have to be uncivil. Rose, can you fix the window display? Roxy, go organize the store room. Lily, make sure the books are balanced. Molly, didn't you just sweep?"

"There's stuff on the floor." Molly said.

"Alright, alright. What do you guys want for lunch?"

3

"I'm bored," Hugo said, grabbing the branch in their backyard and pulling himself up. "Is there anything to do?"

"I dunno." Rose said, spreading her legs out, leaning against the tree.

"I don't want to go inside," he said. "She's cleaning again." He bounced on the branch a bit.

"What's she cleaning? Didn't she already gut the house?"

"I dunno." Hugo shifted on the branch, the leaves rustling. "I just want to get out of here." He made a funny noise. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"You know you can always just go to the Cottage, right?"

"Dom's at work. I'm not hanging out with Lou. He's a fruitcake."

"Yeah. I hear you there."

"I'm just gonna hang until August. Uncle Charlie invited me to the reserve."

"Least you get out of here."

"You can go to Greg's whenever you want, so you have no right to complain."

"Yeah, yeah."

3

The house was silent. Rose rolled over and her arm fell off the edge of the bed. She could hear the crickets outside her window. She could hear Hugo snoring loudly in the other room. She could hear the clock ticking in the living room. She could hear the low hum of her grandmother's sleeping machine. She could hear her mother's heavy breathing. She sat up and put her feet on the cool floor, shivering in response. She stood up and looked around her room, trying not to shiver. She grabbed her father's sweatshirt laid across the back of her chair and slipped it over her head, inhaling deeply as his scent wrapped around her. She closed her eyes, for a second allowing herself to believe that he was wrapping his arms tightly around her, swinging her in circles like he used to do when she was small. When she opened them, and when she forced herself to remember he was dead, a cold sense of desolation wrapped around her.

The pipes creaked. She walked out of her room and almost went to the kitchen, but the light in her mum's study was on. Her socked feet making no noise on the hardwood, she stood in the doorway. Her mum was asleep on the couch, a book splayed on her stomach. Rose leaned against the doorjamb for a few seconds, wondering why she wasn't in her bed. She walked forward, intending to turn out the light, but stopped when she passed by the stack of journals. She bit her lip. Her mum was sleeping. She wouldn't know. Her hand hovered over the top journal of the taller stack, her heart pounding against her chest. She took it, her fingertips burning and her heart skipping a beat.

Her mum groaned and shifted. Careful not to make any noise, she walked over and flicked off the lamp. She didn't move for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, and slipped into the hallway, slowly closing the door behind her.

Her dad's journal under one arm, she went into the sitting room and turned on a light. She folded her legs underneath her on the overstuffed chair, opening the worn notebook on one knee.

23 December 1994

Rose ran her fingers over the messy scribbles. So her dad would be…fourteen? She was surprised at how messy it was. A part of her supposed it would look more like Hugo's precise script. Instead, it matched more her haphazard chicken scratches.

Hermione's a traitor. She smiled. After all the time we've spent together and all we've talked about and everything we've done, she goes and says she has a date. A date! Who would date her? She isn't even that pretty. I mean, sure, she's got a nice smile, I guess, but other than that, nothing. And she doesn't have any pimples and nice eyes. And she does bite her lip and makes them red and they look pretty good. Rose bit back a chuckle. But, I mean, there're other girls who're prettier. Like Lavender. And Parvati. And that girl that sits across from Neville all the time. I think she's a Hufflepuff. No one would want to go to the Yule Ball with her. All she'd do the whole time is rant about the tournament and all she knows about it. Who wants to listen to that? Although, I should ask her when the last someone died was…

I saw her in the library today with him. The last word was gone over several times and underlined with severity. I think that's who's taking her. Victor Krum. He's the enemy! She shouldn't be talking to him. No. None. Not at all. He's good enough with his quidditch and wine and stuff. He doesn't need her. He doesn't deserve her, either. He's probably just using her. Trying to get Harry's strategy out of her. It's probably working, too. She probably just tells him whatever he wants because he pays extra attention to her because no one else will. Bastard. I hope he dies.

It's not going to work, though. Harry's too good. I'm helping him, even if she won't. He'll win. Or, if not him, then Cedric. Although I hope it's Harry. So long as he doesn't die.

Seamus is coming. If he catches me writing…

Hugo loped down the hallway. Rose slid the notebook under the chair. He paused in the hallway, staring at Rose.

"What're you doin'?" He rubbed his eyes, yawning.

"Couldn't sleep."

He nodded and slipped into the kitchen. He shuffled back with a glass of water in his hand. His door clickled shut. Rose took the notebook from under the chair and started reading about the Yule Ball, Victor Krum, her mum, Neville, Ginny, and Harry.