(Forgot to do this last chapter)
Disclaimer: I hereby declare that everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, I own nothing, and this disclaimer covers everything from Chapter 1 to all other chapters after it.

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Chapter 2

I do not like Scorpius Malfoy. He's mean and arrogant, and swans around school with this self-confident swagger. So why did I snog him? Well, technically, he snogged me. I just didn't stop him.

It was at night and we were about half way done with our rounds (yes, Scorpius Malfoy is a Slytherin prefect; and yes, as fate would have it, we happened to be paired together for the third week in a row) and walking down a deserted corridor on the second floor.

"Do you think I'm a nice guy?" he says, turning to me.

"What?"

"Do you think I'm a nice guy?" he repeats.

I stare at him.

"So?" he says.

I shrug. "Not particularly."

Yeah, that sounds harsh. But he's a tosser most (if not all) of the time. I honestly do not get how he is Albus' best friend. He's kind of quiet, but when he does talk everything out of his mouth is snarky and he speaks in this bored tone which drives me absolutely bonkers.

"Ouch," he says.

I smirk. "Why the sudden soul searching?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing," he says eventually.

I study him as he looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable for a moment. His blonde hair catches the light of the flickering lamp on the wall next to us, and from where I'm standing he looks almost angelic. Not that I'm fooled; Scorpius Malfoy is no angel.

Then he really looks at me, piercing me with that stormy grey gaze.

"Er…" I start to say.

He steps forward. Good Lord.

"Rose, I've been wanting to tell you something…" he says.

"Don't," I practically squeak.

He blinks, surprised. Then, with that stupid squinty sexy - ugh, whatever - look, he bends down and presses his lips to mine. It's a light pressure at first, then he leans further in. I don't move back. He's moving his lips; I have no idea what to do with mine. His tongue darts out and I think I die for a second from shock. Then, to my horror, my traitor lips are responding to his and we snog for what seems like a good five minutes. It's probably more like ten seconds.

We break apart, and when I open my eyes (when the hell did I close them?) he's looking down at me with this weird expression. Maybe I'm a shocking kisser. Probably. But whatever, I'm panicking because I just snogged a guy and I was not expecting to, and I hate surprises, and this guy happens to be Scorpius - freaking - Malfoy and I hate him.

"I have to go," I hear myself say. Then I turn and run (literally run) away from him.

"Rose!" I hear him call after me, but I don't stop. I run all the way to Gryffindor tower and ensconce myself in the security of my bed. Eventually I drift off to sleep, but not before thinking about the way his lips felt against mine and the way my chest pounded the whole time. Sixth year is not going how I planned.

xxxxxxxxxx

The day after Christmas is just as hectic as Christmas Day itself. Everyone's still wearing their fluffy knitted jumpers courtesy of Nana Molly. This year mine is a bright red number which clashes wonderfully (not) with my hair. I have a sneaking suspicion she does this on purpose. All the ginger kids in the family - Lily, Molly, Dominique, Hugo and I - have jumpers in the warmer end of the colour spectrum.

"Breakfast!" Nana Molly calls from downstairs.

I hear her distantly through the thin walls of the room I'm sharing with Lily, Lucy and Molly. Lucy is already awake and putting on her blue jumper (her hair is mouse-brown) and kicking Lily's unmoving form.

Molly has just finished making her bed and is neatly folding her nightie and placing it on her pillow. I'm still groggy from last night and my head feels heavy - it's not quite a hangover, but I'm definitely not in a state to run a marathon or go snog some Slytherins (oh, hell).

"Wake up! Pancakes!" Lucy yells at Lily.

Lily stirs, then the blankets are still again.

"Liiiii-llleeeee."

"Leave her alone," I say, turning over in my bed.

"Stop butting in, Rose," Lucy tells me.

"Whatever," I mumble, and haul myself out of bed.

I trudge downstairs with Molly towards the inviting smell of pancakes. Harry and Ginny are there, looking a little worse for wear. Percy and Audrey, who retired early last night, are talking quietly to each other at the other end of the table. And then there is Teddy, who runs a hand through his tousled dark hair and grins at me as I walk in. "Morning, Rose."

My heart does a somersault. "Good morning."

"Everyone is so lazy," tuts Nana Molly, setting a plate of crispy bacon on the table next to the pancakes.

Harry chuckles. "But if anything's going to get them out of bed, it'll be your cooking, Molly."

That Harry Potter, ever the charmer.

Nana clearly loves that, and waffles on about the feast she's going to be preparing for lunch today, and how she loves having a full house again.

"Let me help you with that, Nan," I say, heading towards the stovetop she's kept on to fry more bacon.

"Oh no, dear, it's alright!" she says quickly and a bit shrilly.

So people are still jumpy about me being around an open flame. I suppose I can't blame them; I did almost burn down the house when I was two. And again when I was four. And then I almost razed the playground near my childhood home when I was eleven. And there were probably a few freak accidents involving people and their clothing after that, and at Hogwarts, but whatever, that's all in the past now. I haven't had an episode in three years which I'm pretty proud of myself about. At least, none that I've made aware of to anyone.

I back away from the stove and catch Teddy's eye. He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and smirks; I smile back. He always knows how to make me feel better.

"Molly!" exclaims Aunt Audrey. "Why aren't you wearing your other skirt? The blue one I got you? That one is for New Years."

God, Audrey gets on my nerves. The woman micromanages everything. No wonder her kids seem depressed all the time.

"Because I like this one," Molly says.

"I think it looks nice, Molly," says Ginny.

I catch Uncle Harry shoot her an amused look.

"Thank you," says Molly.

The skirt is a little dressy for breakfast, though, all flowery and lacey. I never would have pegged bookish Molly as the type to like that kind of thing, but there you go. Aunt Audrey obviously intended it to be worn to the big New Years bash at the Potter's - but honestly, what sort of parent plans their fifteen-year-old's outfits for them?

I'm in the middle of trying to delicately eat my pancakes in front of Teddy when Dominique and Roxanne troop in. Dominique looks so gorgeous I can't help but resent the injustice of life. Her strawberry blonde hair sort of floats around her face, and her deceptively innocent baby-blue eyes aren't bloodshot like mine are at the moment.

"Smells delicious, Nan," says Dominique.

"I've missed your pancakes!" exclaims Roxanne as they all take seats at the table.

Roxanne's glossy black hair is pulled into a bun, and her almond skin is perfect as usual. Seriously, if my family entered a modelling contest I'd be one of the first to be eliminated.

Then Aunt Fleur breezes in with Louis on her hip and my self-esteem takes a further beating.

"Wosie!" he says, reaching his arms towards me.

"Hey Louis," I say as Fleur automatically hands him to me. I seat him on my lap.

"So when is Victoire coming back, Teddy?" says Dominique. She says it so nonchalantly not knowing the question causes an actual ache in my gut. I hate being in love.

"I was just about to ask you," he says. I can tell that behind his cool facade he's pissed off at Victoire.

"Fleur?" Dominique asks her mum.

Dominique and Fleur have this weird relationship. I don't think I've ever heard my cousin say anything remotely warm to her mum. I don't know if it's just middle child syndrome or what, but it's gotten to the point where she addresses her as 'Fleur', always does the opposite of what she says, and is insanely disrespectful. I know if I did that to Hermione – I mean Mum – I'd get a royal telling off from Dad, even though she doesn't even live with us anymore.

"She said she 'as got an interview with a very important magazine in Brazeel," says Fleur. Her already loud and obnoxious voice sounds even more so when she says this.

"Oh, right, of course she does," says Teddy. "Her family will just have to wait."

Fleur, completely missing his sarcasm, says, "Yes, yes, it is very beeg over zere apparently."

"Wonderful," remarks Teddy.

I look at him sympathetically, but he doesn't see it.

"Slow down, Molly, you'll get indigestion," advises Audrey as she oversees the speed of Molly's pancake-eating.

Molly doesn't look up at her; she just shrugs and slows down a bit. Ginny rolls her eyes.

"Oh let the girl eat," says Nana Molly, and I can tell even she's annoyed.

Before Audrey can reply James marches into the kitchen with a cheerful, "Good morning dear family!"

He's surprisingly perky for someone who got rip-roaringly drunk last night after our failed game of Truth or Dare. He gives Nana Molly a peck on the cheek before piling a heap of pancakes onto his plate. There are no spare seats at the table so he leans against the counter and starts wolfing them down.

Audrey looks alarmed, and I can almost sense Ginny waiting for her to say something. She doesn't, though, and whispers something to Molly who nods.

"So how're you feeling?" asks Harry with a twinkle in his eye.

They all heard James and Albus roaring through a drunken rendition of 'The Witch and the Warlock' by the Weird Sisters.

"Fine," James says. Dominique shrieks as a fleck of chewed pancake flies from his mouth and lands on her arm.

"How's your brother?" asks Ginny.

"Not too good," says James, and grins through a mouthful.

"So we going to play a game today, Aunt Ginny?" Roxanne asks. Dominique perks up at this.

"It wouldn't be a family reunion without one," replies Ginny.

"Boys against girls again?" Roxanne suggests. "We have to defend our title."

"No way are we going to let you win again," says James.

"As if you let us win," argues Dominique.

I sit quietly bouncing Louis on my knee as everyone discusses just how much they're going to win. Its times like these I feel like I was born into the wrong family; they're all obsessed with Quidditch, while I couldn't give a rats arse about where that stupid flying golden ball is. I watch Molly's bored face – make that two of us.

"It's not fair, you have Aunt Ginny on your team," chimes in Hugo as he enters the room, his hair a frizzy ginger mess.

Although Ginny hasn't played professional Quidditch in years, she's still wicked fast and agile on a broom.

"So?" Dominique says. She inclines her head towards James. "You have Captain Potter over here."

Hugo can't really say anything to that without insulting James, so he shuts up.

By now I'm done eating and I excuse myself from the table, giving Louis a kiss on the head. The conversation's becoming too sports-centric anyway. I head back upstairs to wash up and change my pyjama bottoms to something respectable. I consider putting on Molly's blue skirt just for laughs but decide against it.

When I reach my room Lily is running around frantically, Lucy is trying to help, and it's like someone's let off a Whizzing Pocket Rocket: clothes are strewn everywhere, there are beauty products scattered over the carpet, and the sheets on all the beds have been overturned.

"Have you seen it?" Lily says shrilly as I gingerly make my way over to my trunk under my bed.

"Seen what?"

"My bracelet. The one I got from London."

"I don't even know what a London bracelet looks like."

"Ugh, you are so not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"It's a very expensive one," Lucy tells me.

"I'm sure it is," I say.

"What did you do?" exclaims a high-pitched voice.

We all turn to find Molly standing in the doorway looking appalled. Her eyes travel to her normally neat corner of the room, and her mouth falls in a cartoonish way when she sees that her sheets are in disarray and the mess of clothes and other paraphernalia has encroached into her territory.

"Have you seen my bracelet?" asks Lily, oblivious to Molly's distress.

"I wouldn't know if I had," Molly says, earning a snort from me. "Those kinds of baubles hold no interest for me."

"Ugh, you are such a wet blanket," Lily tells her.

Molly begins to throw the belongings that aren't hers away from her bed and into the centre of the room, then proceeds to fold her sheets again. I honestly don't know how that girl survives being such a neat freak at the Burrow.

Lily eventually finds her bracelet in her pocket and all is calm again.

Later that afternoon, when the Potter-Weasley's are all finally up, almost everyone bundles up and files outside for a grudge match of Quidditch. There's a light sprinkle of snow on the grounds and the air is chilly, but it's a brilliantly sunny day. Of the kids the only ones not playing are Molly ("I find the thrills of literature infinitely more amusing") and I (I just suck).

Sometimes I think it's unfortunate Molly and I aren't friends. Above us are Dominique and Roxanne, bosom buddies since birth, and two years below me and one below her are Lily and Lucy (Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, I like to call them. They don't understand the reference, of course). In an alternate universe we would've been the best of friends, doing each other's make up and chatting about boys and linking arms everywhere we went. But it's not just the year level that keeps us apart - it's the fact that every conversation I start with her ends in me just being dumbfounded by some banal comment she makes about how she's going to become an accomplished young lady, or something to that effect. Seriously, she's in almost every club there is at Hogwarts; the Dueling Club, the Gobstones Club, the Gorsewood Stomping Club (don't ask), the Performing Arts Club, and I'm pretty sure the list goes on. How do I keep up with that kind of school spirit?

So I'm on the sidelines anyway attempting to be a family-oriented person, watching as Uncle George - acting as referee - blows the whistle.

I observe for a decent amount of time (the girls are winning, thanks to Ginny), before inevitably becoming bored and wandering back inside. I find the thrills of the fireplace infinitely more amusing.

Before I get to the living room, however, I hear my Dads voice through the kitchen.

"-coming back next week."

"Thought she said she had to finish her thesis?" says Harry's voice.

So they're talking about Mum. I creep closer to the entrance, pressing my back flat against the wall. I wish I had a pair of Extendable Ears on me right now.

"It's supposed to be a surprise for the kids, or something. But mate, she's bringing Jeff. I don't know what to tell them."

Who is Jeff?

"Shit, they don't know?" Harry says.

Who is Jeff?

"Well she was supposed to come alone and we were going to tell them together. But she bloody tells me by Floopowder two nights ago that he's coming with her because he wants to 'meet the family'."

I feel sick.

"So now what? She wants you to warn them or something? Or by surprise does she mean she thinks its going to be a pleasant one."

"I honestly don't know," Dad says. He sounds so helpless. If I wasn't frozen to the wall I would've burst in there and given him a hug. It also doesn't help that I feel sick to my stomach.

"Rose?" comes a voice from behind me.

I jump, and turn to find Teddy looking at me quizzically. Then his face pulls into one of concern when he sees my face; distraught, I bet. I'm horrified by the tears I find welling up, and I quickly look down.

"Rose, are you okay?"

I can't be here right now. I don't answer him, and shrug off the hand he reaches out as I push past him in the narrow corridor.

I head towards the front of the house and leave through the front door wearing only the fluffy Christmas jumper, which the chilly wind easily breezes through. I feel like I'm going to throw up. There are hot tears streaming down my face. I run down the hill away from the Burrow and my broken, messed up family.

Woah, that spiraled into the dramatic pretty quickly...

But don't worry, it won't be a sob-fest, many more lighthearted moments to come!

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Note: Some of Molly's dialogue has been adapted from the character of Mary Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, so of course the credit for that goes to Jane Austen.