I decided to add another chapter, but warning: this is a short story and there's probably only one or two left. Thanks for reading! :)

I don't own Harry Potter!

He can't ignore me forever.

Why is it that I find it so easy to hate the Potter siblings?

Albus is currently scribbling notes that he took last weekend in preparation for today's class.

I've thrown about a dozen notes at him, but he's been Vanishing them all.

What's worse is that now I know that Scorpius knows. And he keeps staring at me. The more he stares, the more flustered I become, and the more notes I hurl at Al, which leads back to him staring at me like I'm a monkey at the zoo. It's a deadly cycle, let me tell you.

Finally, class is over, and Al sprints out down the corridor and out of sight before I could even mention the word Scorpius.

Unfortunately, the one who bears that name is more than happy to accompany me to lunch.

"How has your day been, Rose?" he asks, seeming a little more courteous than usual.

Dear Lord, I think to myself, he knows, but he doesn't know how to say that he thinks we're better off just friends. Actually, maybe we're better off not friends, because he thinks it's really weird that I've fancied him for almost a year. This is his way of being polite, kind of like taking a girl on a really nice date right before he breaks up with her for being too clingy. Why does he have to be so nice?

I don't seem to have enough Gryffindor courage in me to voice these thoughts to him, so I say instead, "Just fine, Scorp, thanks for asking."

He seems to be about to say something important when suddenly, stupid James Potter is standing at the top of the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, yelling, "Rose! Get out of the way!"

Apparently, I'm not the only one who is a frequent customer of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, because a full pack of Filibuster Fireworks are exploding throughout the cavernous Hall, out the oak doors and to the grounds, and among the lunch-goers into the Great Hall, where screams and chairs scraping against the floor produce a deafening din.

"Excellent," Wesley Abbott says, grinning and shaking hands with James. I roll my eyes and head into the fray to find some shepherd's pie.

It's really starting to appear that all of the Potters want to get on my bad side today.

After lunch, I have one free afternoon. This schedule is undoubtedly the best one of the week, because I have more than half of the day to work on homework. Today, though, it means that I can hide in the common room until dinner and avoid certain Ravenclaws with ease.

It also means, though, that I have to endure one Lily Luna Potter giggling with Molly Weasley (who I thought was supposed to be on my side) for an entire hour.

I'm innocently trying to do my Potions homework (oh, the irony) in a secluded corner, but they won't shut up. They're sitting in the most social section of the common room, right by the portrait hole, and Lily can't stop giggling about how she's the only girl with real guts in the family and that no one else can really take control of their men like she can.

"It's so true, though," Molly says wistfully. "I mean, Colin would never have known my true feelings if you hadn't hinted at them at the Quidditch match."

Lily smiles smugly. "I mean, I guess Victoire knows what she's doing. With Teddy and all. But she's French. And she's a veela. I mean, she has nothing to lose."

I want to punch the italics out of her mouth. She's acting as if I owe her a favor, now that she's announced my secret to the entire Gryffindor House!

I'm just about finished when Molly calls over, "Hey, Rose, why don't you come join us?"

Dear Molly. She doesn't have a malevolent bone in her body. She's probably just looking for a good, cousinly chat.

"Yes, Rose, do join us," Lily oozes. My face is burning, and I wish that those second-years in the corner would liven up their game of Exploding Snap so that nobody else has to hear this.

I reluctantly finish my sentence, cast a drying spell on my essay, and roll it up neatly before gingerly joining them. I try to sit on the edge of a leather armchair, but it's one of those slippery traps that makes you curl up in a ball and rest your head on the arm.

I try to right myself as Molly grins at me and Lily says, "Haven't I helped you out recently, Rosie?"

I grimace at her use of my nickname. It's okay when people say it endearingly, but when it's used against me, I hate it.

"Not that I can remember," I say bitterly.

"I seem to recall making public your true feelings for a certain Ravenclaw," Lily continues.

"That wasn't exactly help, Lils," I reply, using her nickname for good measure.

"No, I suppose not…it would probably only help if there was some reciprocation, like there was with Colin…" Lily says, smiling sweetly.

I don't say anything. Molly looks confused, like the conversation took a bad turn. I kind of want to shake her and wake her up to how cruel our very own cousin can be.

But I don't. Instead, I try my hardest to rise from the slippery chair of humiliation, collect my belongings, and relocate to the library. Maybe I'll get some privacy there.