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Chapter 10

"So what's going on with you and Scorpius?"

Albus asks this, alarmingly loudly, then seats himself in the chair across from me disturbing my sanctuary that is the far left wing of the library.

"What do you mean?"

"People saw you two together in Hogsmeade yesterday. Holding hands. Are you two dating?"

I scoff. "No."

"Then…?"

I sigh and look up from a very interesting chapter on ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. "We weren't holding hands. And we are not dating."

Albus holds up both palms. "Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Ugh.

"But there is something going on there, isn't there?" he continues, leaning forward and whispering in a conspiratorial manner.

God, as if my dad berating me over dinner last night wasn't enough.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Seriously, Rose. In the holidays, when we went to his house-" I roll my eyes. I didn't 'go to his house', I was practically abducted. "-What was that between you two? All that sexual tension and everything."

"Sexual-?"

I cut myself off as a girl walks by and shoots an alarmed look in our direction.

Lowering my voice, I whisper-yell, "There is nothing going on between me and Malfoy. If you don't believe me ask him yourself. Aren't you two supposed to be best friends?"

Albus leans back in his chair again. "He hasn't told me anything. But I know when he's hiding something."

Inwardly I let out a sigh of relief. So he kept his promise on not telling anyone about Teddy. I feel a twinge of guilt at doubting his word.

"Because there is nothing going on," I say firmly, then hoist my textbook over my face and block Albus out.

I hear him stand, obnoxiously making the chair scrape loudly over the wooden floor.

"Well if you ever need advice on how to deal with Scorpius Malfoy, you know where to find me," he says, then leaves.

I lower the heavy tome. Advice on how to deal with Scorpius Malfoy? What the hell does that mean?

xxxxxxxxxx

A week after that awful, traumatic, embarrassing (you get the idea) Hogsmeade trip, everyone at Hogwarts is annoyingly excited at the prospect of the second Quidditch match of the season.

This being Gryffindor's first match, and against their arch rivals Ravenclaw no less, the atmosphere at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall that morning is electric.

I'm reading the Daily Prophet (Hermione Weasley being back in town is mentioned in the gossip column), munching on toast and trying to block out Lily and James' argument from a few seats down the table.

"You're a disgrace to this House!" James says to her.

"You're a plonker!" Lily shoots back.

She's decked out in Ravenclaw blue. Apparently she's going out with Lance Thomas now.

"And you call yourself my sister," says James, clearly disgusted.

"It doesn't affect you," Lily says. "I don't even like Quidditch. I'm just trying to support Lance. This is his second match ever, he's really nervous-"

A few people over at the Ravenclaw table titter. I wonder if Lance Thomas heard.

"Well, you can't sit in the Gryffindor stand then. You'll stick out. Bring down the morale."

"Fine," Lily says.

"Fine," says James.

She stands up, and Lucy gets up beside her. "C'mon, Luce, let's leave."

Lucy gives James a snotty look and follows her cousin out of the Great Hall.

"You shouldn't give her such a hard time, James," Roxanne says to him as he settles into demolishing his pre-game meal of bacon, toast, tomatoes, and three eggs.

"I'm trying to be a good brother," James says through a mouthful. "But the little traitor won't listen to me. And why are you defending her? You're the Seeker, for Merlin's sake."

Albus strolls over to the Gryffindor table. I do not make eye contact.

"What was that about?" he asks James.

"Lily's a traitor."

"What's new?"

James just grunts and continues shoveling food into his mouth. How girls find him attractive I have no idea.

Albus seats himself next to James. He's across the table and two seats down from me; I catch him looking at me, raising a brow with a scandalised look on his face, and then pointing with his chin behind me. I turn to find Scorpius sitting with Adele Zabini and Darius Flint over at the Slytherin table. I turn back to him with a scowl and shake my head.

Albus cocks his head, then does some weird widening-squinting motion with his eyes. I frown at him. His brows go back down. I roll my eyes and turn back to the Prophet.

"You alright, Al?" Roxanne asks.

"Peachy," he replies, then gets up and saunters back to his Slytherin crew. Darius greets him with a nasty looking punch to the upper arm, and both boys guffaw as if this is the most wittiest of jests.

Finally I can't stomach all the stupidity and ego and macho-Quidditch-talk around me anymore, and start making my way up to my room. At least it'll be quiet.

It's not.

When I burst in the Terrible Three are lying on their beds, mid-giggle through something Cynthia has said, probably.

"Don't mind me," I say as I walk in.

I start grabbing random textbooks from my trunk - I think I'll take my quiet time in the library.

"Ask her," Penelope whispers to Cynthia.

My stomach drops as Cynthia sits up and flips a bouncy lock of dark hair over her shoulder. "Rose."

"Uh-huh?" I say as I pretend to be very busy shoving quills into my bag.

"Do you like Scorpius Malfoy?"

I almost drop my bag.

"No."

God, Hogwarts really is a rumour mill.

"Really? Because Sally said she saw you and him-"

"Sally doesn't know shit," I say angrily, turning around. I feel bad when Sally looks hurt, her doe-eyes growing wide. "Sorry," I say lamely.

"Okay, good," Cynthia says. "Because he's taken."

"What?"

As far as I'm aware, Scorpius isn't seeing anyone. I always thought he had a thing with Adele Zabini, though. But the whole school knows Scorpius Malfoy has never had a girlfriend. In fact, Scorpius Malfoy doesn't date, full stop.

"He's Penelope's," Cynthia says.

"Cynthia," Penelope admonishes. "You weren't supposed to tell anyone!"

Penelope Montague and Scorpius Malfoy? Now that's something I didn't see coming. I attribute the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach to this morning's rather stale toast.

Cynthia waves a hand at her. "Relax, she's not going to tell. Are you, Rose?"

Cynthia regards me with that dark devil-stare of hers. I try to match it.

"Whatever," I say, and go back to packing my things.

I hear Cynthia stand, and I turn to find her inches away from me.

"You better not tell anyone, Rose."

"Or what?" I snap back at her.

"Or I'll tell everyone you're in love with Victoire's boyfriend."

I freeze. The floor feels like it's dropped out from under me. No, no, no, she cannot know.

"What are you even on about," I say, but my voice is shaking.

Cynthia smirks. "I have a few Slytherin friends who saw you two in Hogsmeade. From what I hear it was a lovers spat."

Before I know it my wand is out, and small flames are flitting from the end, licking the air dangerously close to her hair. Cynthia backs away in shock.

"You can't," she says.

"Take that back," I tell her. "Or I swear I'll torch all your hair off so badly it'll never grow back."

It's times like these when my reputation of being a hot-headed, pyromaniac freak comes in handy. People actually believe me when I say stuff like this.

"I'm going to tell Wiggan you're setting things on fire again."

"Can you do that faster than I can set you on fire?"

Cynthia pauses, looking genuinely scared.

"Rose," Sally says, standing up. "Please don't set Cynthia on fire."

I blink at her for a second. Sally says everything in a light, airy-fairy way which makes that particular request hilarious. I would have laughed had I not been so incensed.

"I won't. If she takes back what she said about me and Teddy. It was not a lovers spat. We're just friends."

"I take it back," Cynthia says, scowling at me.

I nod. "Good."

I tuck my wand away. Sometimes I wish Hogwarts had a no-bitch policy. But then again, if they did I'd probably be kicked out, too.

xxxxxxxxxx

The highly-anticipated match of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw is as dramatic as everyone expected. Gryffindor scored the first goal (courtesy of James Potter), then Ravenclaw scored a goal, then Gryffindor. And then I tuned out.

I think near the end of the game Gryffindor were ahead, but then the Ravenclaw Seeker caught the Snitch which ended the game and awarded Ravenclaw with just enough points to come out as the victors.

I'm sitting in the Gryffindor common room now rolling my eyes at James practically sobbing with his teammates. Tobias Wood is lamenting in front of the fireplace on how unfair it was that Coach McLaggen called him out for grabbing the tail of the Ravenclaw Beater's broom, and James for 'accidentally' bumping Lance Thomas.

I catch Lily sneaking out the portrait hole, something (probably a short skirt) tucked under her arm, most likely on her way to join the celebration in the Ravenclaw common room. James is oblivious; he is now waxing lyrical to a rapt audience about how they are a team and they can survive this setback.

I turn back to my Arithmancy homework and try to concentrate, but the charts seem to swirl before me and I can't shake that feeling of dread I've been experiencing ever since Cynthia threw that jab about Teddy and I this afternoon.

Without really thinking about it, I'm making my way to the portrait hole and I leave the common room without a glance back. I walk down the deserted tower, then towards the ground floor. I feel restless. And hungry.

I head towards the basement and find myself in front of the bowl-of-fruit painting. Rose Weasley, breaking the rules for the second time in a fortnight. I'm wild.

I go into the kitchen before realising I didn't even bring any clothes to trade.

"Welcome!" a house-elf wearing bright yellow socks and a tiny t-shirt greets.

"Err… Hi," I say.

I actually look down at what I'm wearing to see if anything is appropriate to remove. I guess I could always trade my socks, but they've been in my boots all day and probably don't smell great. My jeans and sweater are out of the question; I don't want to have to walk back half naked. I sigh. That means it'll have to be the bra.

"Yes, ten of those, please," I hear a male voice say from the back of the kitchen.

I go further in and see Andrew McLaggen holding a crate full of butterbeer while a house-elf piles cauldron cakes on top of them. He looks over at me as I approach.

"Hey," he says, nodding at me.

"Hi," I say. "Hungry?"

"Oh, this isn't all for me, I'm bringing it back for- Oh, right, hah, you're joking…"

I smile back at him.

"Rose Weasley, right?" he asks, placing the crate on one of the long tables. "You're not going to put me in detention, are you?"

This coming from a Ravenclaw prefect.

"Eh, I suppose not. I'm feeling nice today. Andrew McLaggen, right?" I say as if I'm not sure.

"Yeah. Your cousin would throw a fit if he caught you talking to me," he jokes.

I shrug. "James can go suck a Flobberworm. That boy is way too obsessed with Quidditch."

He laughs. "And you don't feel like you're betraying your clan?"

I do an exaggerated eye-roll. "Quidditch doesn't really interest me. Sorry," I add.

"No need to apologise. It's refreshing, actually."

"Truth is I don't know much about it," I blab on. "You could be terrible, for all I know. Everyone just looks like they're flying around throwing balls at each other."

He seems to find this incredibly funny, and laughs heartily. "Well I'm actually blocking them," he points out. "So at least I'm not participating in all the useless ball-throwing."

"Thank goodness," I say.

He grins at me.

"Hey listen," he says, hoisting his crate of food up again. "I have to go take this back to our little celebration party. Care to join us? I think I even saw one of your cousins there."

"Lily?"

"Who?"

"Never mind," I say. My instinctive response to his question would be, 'oh, no, I couldn't, I have stuff to do', but I'm in a funny mood. I end up accepting his invitation and wonder what the hell I'm doing as I follow him to Ravenclaw Tower.

When we get to the common room the celebration is in full swing; all the tables have been pushed to the sides and there's a mass of people in the circular room, yelling and laughing and crowing victory cheers. I feel a bit claustrophobic despite the high, domed ceiling.

"Follow me," says Andrew, and he pushes past people to the other side of the room and begins unpacking the crate of food and drinks. He gets a few claps on the back and approving calls of 'maaate' from passersby as he does so. He grins and jokes and altogether charms the pants off all of them.

He hands me a butterbeer, and I gladly accept. I feel like I'm just standing awkwardly and sticking out like a sore thumb, though no one has really noticed me. Except for Andrew; he's looking at me now over the top of his butterbeer through his warm brown eyes.

"So," I say, then take a swig from the bottle. I can't help but stare at the little dimple on his chin. Cute.

"So," he says, a smile playing on his lips.

"What?" I ask as his grin grows wider.

"Nothing, nothing. You just look… terrified."

So I'm not as great as playing cool as I thought. Well that's nothing new.

"I'm not terrified," I say. "Just… this is kind of awkward now. I'm not entirely sure how I ended up here."

He laughs. I decide he has a rather nice laugh. "Come on, let's go, then," he says, then grabs my hand.

I jump in surprise at his touch, but allow him to drag me across the crowded room again towards a cushioned seat built into one of the alcoves that jut out of the tower. He sits down, indicating the spare space next to him. I hesitate for a moment before sitting. We're so close our legs are touching, and I'm very, very aware of it. It doesn't seem to phase him though; he turns to me with that dazzling smile and says, "This better?"

"A little," I say.

I take in my surroundings from here, and almost have a heart attack when I see Lily snogging the life out of a boy I can only assume is Lance Thomas. I can't tell what he looks like from here, only that he's got dark skin and a mass of black hair, but they're in one of the alcoves going at it like there's no one else in the room.

Andrew follows my stunned expression and chuckles. "Young Beater has found love already," he says.

"Sure looks like love," I say drily.

"So what do you do, Rose Weasley?"

I snort at the cheesy line, then mentally berate myself for the very un-ladylike sound a second later. After that I'm not quite sure what to say. Oh God, are we flirting?

"I do Hogwarts," I say. Yeap. I am officially the world's daftest flirter.

"No way, so do I," Andrew says, his eyes lighting up. "We have so much in common it's ridiculous."

Ahh, so that's how it's done.

"Do you do this all the time?" I ask, smiling in spite of myself.

"Do what?"

"This. Take random girls back to your common room with you."

Andrew looks slightly taken aback. "You're not a random girl. And I've never done anything like this before, actually."

Well you're random to me, I think to myself. I know his name, and I know of him, but I've never actually associated with him in any way except maybe having sat opposite him in a prefect meeting or two.

I nod slowly, then take another sip of butterbeer.

"Rose?"

Shit. It's Dominique.

"Heeeey," I say, casually waving my drink at her.

She's looking gorgeous in a tight black dress and strawberry blonde hair all tousled and flowy.

"What are you doing here?" she demands.

I should be asking her the same thing. Before I can reply, Andrew says, "I invited her."

"Why?"

I pretend not be offended and glare at Dominique.

"Because I wanted to," Andrew says. He sounds annoyed.

"Of course you did."

"Leave us alone, Dominique," he says, sighing.

I sit quietly, my eyes flitting between both their faces, while the tension unfolds.

"Why are you such a dick? Using my cousin?"

Wait, what?

I stand up. "Is there something I'm missing here?"

Andrew stands up too. "No, just a misunderstanding between Dominique and I. We- er… used to date. She thinks I'm trying to make her jealous. But I'm not."

I've heard enough already. I start walking away, feeling that all too familiar wave of humiliation at my foolishness wash over me.

"Rose!" Andrew calls out, but I'm already at the door.

I burst out into the corridor and slam the door shut behind me. I sag against it and rest the back of my head on it as I look up for a moment. Why do I always get myself into situations like this? Is there something about me that just screams, 'I am an idiot, please use me for your games' ?

Note to self: never, ever again follow strange Ravenclaws to their common rooms. Especially cute ones.