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Chapter 12

I'm in my least favourite class, Defence Against the Dark Arts (Potions has moved up in the ranks; I've decided Darius Flint isn't that bad), watching Professor Addison's emotionless face harp on about the importance of nonverbal spells.

She's the reason this class is at the bottom of my list. I swear that woman is made of stone; she's gorgeous, sure, with porcelain skin, piercing blue eyes and long, glossy black hair, but the way she speaks is so cold and arrogant and- ugh, drives me insane. Kind of like how Scorpius used to. He's starting to grow on me a bit now. Just a bit.

"So now I'd like you to all get out your wands and practise," says Professor Addison.

We all obey immediately. There's no shitting around with this witch.

"Remember, nonverbal," she says as she puts us into pairs.

I'm with Adele Zabini, who looks slightly scared of me. Having borne witness to several inferno-causing outbursts of mine during class over the years, I can't blame her.

I look over at the other side to see Scorpius and Darius Flint paired together, and laugh to myself when I see Cynthia Earl hanging off Albus' arm. She's saying something to him, I can't quite make it out, but he's shaking his head and twirling his wand around. So she's using the 'ol damsel in dumbness trick, then.

"Now I don't want you blowing each other up, so freezing charms only," Professor Addison says. "And one partner using a nonverbal defensive spell. Use your imagination."

"Do you want to be defensive?" Adele asks hesitantly.

"Sure."

We pick a relatively empty corner of the large room after Professor Addison spells all the desks to the sides and face each other about three metres apart.

I grip my wand and watch the end of hers warily as she slowly raises it. She flicks it around, and silently I intone, Protego.

No shield materialises in front of me, nor do I get hit with a spell. Well that was a failure. I look around to see that most of the class is having a similar lack of success in nonverbal attacking and defending.

Adele shrugs at me. "Again?"

I nod. I thought this would be a piece of cake; I've been doing nonverbal spells around the house since I turned seventeen these holidays, not to mention the flames that I conjure up so effortlessly. But bringing up a shield is harder than it looks. I pour all my concentration into that one charm: Protego.

Nothing again. I huff, and say, "Maybe we should try saying it verbally first? Quietly," I add, glancing over at where Professor Addison is.

Adele agrees and we try again. This time a transparent blue shield forms in front of me just in time to deflect the jet of bright blue light from Adele's wand.

"Well done, Miss Zabini, Miss Weasley. Ten points to each House," Professor Addison calls over at us.

We smile, slightly guiltily, at each other.

"How do you do that?" says Albus, coming over to us.

"It's quite easy," Adele tells him, her pretty dark eyes twinkling as she shoots me a conspiratorial glance.

Cynthia tags along behind him. "Al, don't you want to try again?"

Albus turns to Cynthia. "Alright, I'm ready."

He adjusts the grip on his wand and bends his knees slightly. Cynthia flips a lock of hair over her shoulder and flicks her wand at him, her lips moving wordlessly. A shot of red light blasts out of her wand and hits Albus who goes flying backwards, and at the same time his wand gets torn out of his hand by an invisible force.

"Albus!" Cynthia cries, rushing forward.

Albus is already sitting up by the time she gets there, and she gushes over him as he stands up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Albus, are you okay? That must have hurt so much, oh- oh-"

"I said freezing charms only!" Professor Addison says as she swiftly intervenes.

"Sorry, sorry," Cynthia says.

She goes back to cooing over Albus. Professor Addison watches this exchange for a moment, before declaring that everyone is to switch partners. Immediately I grab Albus' arm. I am not being paired with Cynthia Earl. I shoot Adele an apologetic look as Cynthia and Adele realise that they're together.

"I know I'm hot property, but jeez, Rose, you're my cousin and all…"

"Shut up, Potter."

Albus grins at me. "So ready to give it a go? Promise you won't set me on fire?"

Albus is probably the only person that can crack that joke and not make me mad. Having grown up together and accidentally scalding him many times over the years, he's earned the right.

"Only if you promise to never get with that cow," I tell him.

"Cynthia?" asks Albus, alarmed. "Merlin, no, I would never."

"Good. Because I'd probably Avada myself if she was my sister-in-law…"

"Shit, woman, getting ahead of yourself a bit there aren't you," Albus says, raising his wand.

I follow his gesture. "Hope you've been working on your shield charm. I heard Harry could do it nonverbally at our age."

"The bloke saved the world when he was our age," Albus says. "How am I supposed to compete with that?"

I could take that comment and write a whole bloody essay on the feelings of worthlessness and the pressure of living up to a certain standard I've experienced growing up under the great Hermione Weasley, what with her legendary work at the Ministry and being a progressive advocate for the cause of the Free Elves. Not to mention saving the wizarding world alongside Harry Potter himself. Instead I smile and aim a spell at Albus.

Half an hour later I'm sitting back in my seat feeling pretty stoked for having frozen Albus a total of four out of five times (the fifth time he managed to get a decent shield up), half-listening to Professor Addison go on about how disappointed she is with the class, and how on earth would we have survived the battle our parents did at this very school?

"Now I would like you all to write an essay on the importance and advantages of nonverbal hexes, and defensive tactics from such spells."

The class groans.

"Yes, Mr Flint?"

Darius Flint is waving his hand in the air. What the hell? He never asks questions.

"How many inches?"

"Excuse me?"

"The essay. How many inches would you like?"

"Twelve should do it."

Another class-wide groan.

"Oh, I thought you'd like it longer, Miss," says Darius with a smirk.

Oh, my God.

A silence falls at Darius' innuendo. Professor Addison regards him coolly with her piercing blue eyes, then says, "No." I'm surprised the air around her doesn't crackle with ice.

Darius shrugs. "Alright, then."

"Thank you, Mr Flint."

"Ay?"

"Thank you for volunteering to be the recipient of a nonverbal hex. Please come to the front."

Darius instantly looks nervous. His eyes flit around the room for a moment, as if looking for an escape, but he stands up and walks slowly to the front of the room. Serves him right, the tosser.

He's standing facing Professor Addison now, and I can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulps. Professor Addison raises her wand, and-

"Gloria!"

Everyone whips around to the door to the classroom where Professor Trig has just entered, powder-blue bowler hat and all, bearing a bouquet of bright flowers.

He halts when he sees us and his eyes go wide. "Oh- you're teaching- of course- err…"

Then he stands there for a moment looking at the bouquet, clearly not quite sure to do with it now. I glance to the front and almost keel over from shock; Professor Gloria Addison, Hogwarts' resident ice-queen, has turned a deep shade of pink.

"I'm busy at the moment, Professor Trig," she says in that calm voice, but her cheeks are positively glowing.

"Of course, of course," Professor Trig says, then hurriedly backs out of the room.

A few students giggle, but Professor Addison quickly shuts them down with a few well-aimed glares. I duck my head to hide my stupid grin that is spreading; my kind, nerdy, Arithmancy teacher is with stoic, cold-hearted Professor Addison… If these two can find love, then perhaps it's not entirely impossible for me, too.

Not long after the intrusion, Professor Addison dismisses the class (with a sharp, "get back to your seat, Mr Flint, before I jinx your hands over your mouth until the rest of term") and I end up walking to the Great Hall with Albus, Scorpius, Adele, and Darius.

Albus kicks Darius in the calf as we walk downstairs. "What the hell was that, Flint?"

Darius pretends to grimace in pain, then grins. "She wants me. Did you see her face? The broad practically jumped me."

Albus snorts. "Looks like she's taken, mate."

"That old fart? Nah, he's no competition."

I'm starting to regret walking back with them…

Adele looks at me almost apologetically. Albus and Darius begin talking Quidditch tactics for the big Gryffindor-Slytherin game in a few days (honestly, you'd think these games were international level) while Scorpius, who's wearing his customary mask of boredom, is walking silently along next to Adele.

"So are you going to the game next week, Rose?" Adele asks me.

"Err, maybe," I say.

"Don't you want to see your cousin beat the shit out of your other cousin?" Albus says, overhearing my answer.

"That's always fun," I say. "Depends who's the cousin doing the shit-beating."

"Me, of course," says Albus.

"Of course."

"You should come to the after-party," Scorpius says.

I look up at him sharply. He just raises a brow at me.

"What?" he says. "Slytherin are obviously going to win."

"And be killed by James for turning traitor?" I say.

"You've always been a traitor, Rosie," says Albus.

"Gee, thanks."

"Yes, do come, Rose," Adele insists. "They're always full of egotistical boys, but the food is good. I'd love the company."

"I'll think about it," I tell her.

She nods and her hair swings forward like a shampoo advertisement. Ugh, some people have all the luck.

I say goodbye to the Slytherin crew, as I'm now calling them, as I spot Melody at the Gryffindor table. She's eating a bowl of oats like it's fine dining, seeming to relish each spoonful. I swear if this girl's taste buds could talk they'd say, 'Pleeease, saaave meee'. I tell her as much, but she just laughs in my face and tells me I need to eat healthier or my cholesterol is going to be sky high by the time I'm thirty.

"What're you going to do about bum-chin?" Melody asks me as I dig into my cholesterol-saturated lunch of bacon, eggs, and potatoes.

She's started referring to Andrew McLaggen as 'bum-chin', as the last time we talked about him she was embarrassingly loud and I'm pretty sure a good third of the library heard, after which I forced her to pick a codename for him. 'Bum-chin' is the first thing that sprung to mind, apparently, on account of the dimple on his chin (which I actually find quite attractive). Evidently Melody does not feel the same way.

"I've just been avoiding him," I say quietly.

We're sitting next to each other at the table, and with the ruckus of lunch in the Great Hall going on around us, in reality it's probably the safest place to talk.

"You've got to talk to him some time," Melody points out.

"Why are you so rational?" I groan. "And why do I have to talk to him, when with him you told me I shouldn't?"

Him being Teddy, of course.

"Because you actually liked him, and would have been a sucker for whatever he said. And also he didn't go to Hogwarts," Melody says. "But bum-chin is in all your prefect meetings. All your dinners. And lunch. And breakfast."

"Okay, okay," I say. "I'll tell him Hogsmeade is a no-go."

xxxxxxxxxx

"So, I'm kind of busy the week after next…" I begin.

I'm standing in the Entrance Hall looking up at Andrew McLaggen and his bum-chin (damn you, Melody) after having spotted him leaving lunch on his own and bolted after him like a crazy woman. Now I wish I had thought a bit more about what I'm going to say.

My palms are sweaty, my heart is racing, and I feel a little shaky. God, I'm pathetic. It's not like I'm breaking up with the guy. Is this what it feels like to break up with someone? Because if it is, I never want to be in a relationship. I don't ever want to have to break up with someone, or be broken up with. Solution: become a cat-lady.

"Err… doing what?" Andrew asks.

Then I realise I've just trailed off and become absorbed in my own panicky thoughts.

"I have a meeting…"

Andrew raises his brows in question.

"A… Gobstones Club… meeting…"

"I didn't know you were in the Gobstones Club."

"Yeah, yeah, I am. Have been for ages. I love it. Gobstones."

Oh, God.

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes, on Saturday. Practically every Saturday. I'm very busy."

"Oooh-kay then. Guess I'll just… see you around?"

Andrew looks a bit disappointed, but I can't really tell, it could just be a face he pulls when he thinks someone is a complete weirdo, passing up a date with a fit Quidditch Captain to attend Gobstones Club.

"Yes, exactly, I'll just see you around. Bye."

And then I start power-walking in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower, my face lighting up into a bright red beacon. I'm halfway there when I have an idea. I stop suddenly, causing a small person behind to crash into me, and race towards the Great Hall again, hoping that by now Andrew McLaggen has kept going out of the Entrance Hall.

The Great Hall is still fairly full of people at lunch. I start towards the Ravenclaw table.

I pass the Hufflepuffs on my way, and someone sticks a leg out in an obvious attempt to trip me up. I kick it.

"Ow!" says Hugo.

I shove my palm in his face. "Not now, Hugo."

Hugo pushes my hand away. "Who're you looking for?"

"Molly. Have you seen her?"

Hugo shrugs and turns back to Lorcan and Lysander's violent version of paper-scissors-rock. "Dunno. Off somewhere giving people detention, probably."

I sigh, and continue on to the Ravenclaw table when I see a mane of ginger hair.

"Molly!"

Molly whips around.

I smile widely, waving, and head towards her. She looks embarrassed and quickly turns back to her friends.

What. Just. Happened. Molly Weasley is embarrassed of me? I'm more of a loser than I thought.

I soldier on, and when I get to her seat I hear her serious voice saying, "And then I said, 'You can't do a counter-curse on an Elephamarus jinx'."

The group of Ravenclaws around her burst into laughter. Well that answers my question on whether I'd make a good Ravenclaw.

"Molly," I say as I stop directly behind her.

Molly turns around.

"Hi Rose."

"Can I have a word?"

"Oh. Okay," she says, excusing herself from the table. Her friends all look at me like I'm a three-headed dog as I lead us towards one side of the Great Hall.

"I need to ask a favour," I say.

Molly looks hesitant. "What is it?"

"If anyone asks, I'm in the Gobstones Club, alright?"

Molly stiffens immediately. "Why would I do that?"

"You're the Captain, right?"

"I'm President of the Club and Captain of the Gobstones Team," Molly tells me.

"Yeah, exactly. So if anyone asks, Rose Weasley is a member. Okay?"

Molly frowns. "But… why?"

"It's a long story," I say, smiling as if to say, 'it's a funny story, really'.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Well I wasn't expecting that.

"Gobstones Club is serious. You can't just be a member because I say you are. You have to come to a meeting and be initiated."

I sigh. I always make things more complicated for myself. "Alright, I'll come to a meeting. When's the next one?"

"Tomorrow."

"But I have-"

"It's tomorrow."

"Fine."

Molly beams at me. "Third floor Charms classroom, seven sharp. See you then," she says, then flounces off.

Stupid bum-chin.