Chapter Two

An Acquaintance

The Gryffindor house table in the great hall was always swamped on Thursday evenings, because that was normally the only evening that James Potter didn't have Quidditch practice and was able to eat dinner with his fellow house-mates. As usual, the table was completely swamped with adoring, teenage girl fans, all determined to say something to the Captain so that they could giggle over it with their girlfriends later.

Rose Weasley, after having her Care of Magical creatures essay bombed with a whole jug full of pumpkin juice sent flying by one particularly over-excited adoring fan, was more unimpressed with her cousin's charming conduct than usual. Staying only to receive a letter from home, she hurried off to the girl's dormitory to read it. Sidestepping Professor Grundelwort (who desperately wanted her to volunteer for the annual 'Perfect Potion Competition') she climbed through the portrait hole and up the spiral staircase into the girl's dormitory. She opened the door and her heart sank.

Rebecca Weldworth and Christina Vermont were already inside, perched on one of the beds, with a whole suitcase of make-up stretched out between them.

"I think I need more of this..." Rebecca was clutching a tube of an orange looking substance, trying to catch Christina's eye for clarification. Christina however, was staring at Rose.

"Look..." She smirked, nudging Rebecca. "...it's Weasley." Rebecca turned, her face gleaming with the prospect of an opportunity to injure someone's ego.

"So it is..." She rose from the bed, make-up forgotten; she had a new toy. "Where've you been, Weasley?" She asked scornfully. "Snogging Professor Grundelwort?" Rose felt herself turn red.

"Sod off." She moved towards her bed, only Rebecca was blocking the way.

"Oooh! Not very friendly!" Rebecca turned to Christina. "What do you say, Chrissie?"

"Not friendly at all. I reckon we should teach her some manners."

"Good idea."

"I said, sod off." Rose said, her voice slightly shaky. Tears of anger and humiliation were teasing her; threatening to humiliate her further and she blinked frantically, trying to eliminate the danger.

"Language, Weasley." Rebecca suddenly lashed out and snatched the letter from Rose's hand. "From home, I imagine." She sniggered, turning the letter over in her hands. "I bet you write every day, crying to mummy. 'Oooh I have no friends! Nobody likes me!'" She whined, imitating a small child: much to the delight of Christina, who laughed loudly. Rebecca stopped sniggering abruptly and turned to face Rose again, her face set into a cold, brutal glare. "No, you're right. No one does like you, because you're a fat, ugly cow." She emphasised each word by tearing up the letter into six pieces and letting the pieces fall to the floor. When Rose made no attempt to reply, she sniggered and turned to Christina, who was still sitting, legs crossed on the bed.

"Come on, Chrissie..." She said, linking arms. "We've got a Quidditch captain to congratulate." They left, shimmying their hips as they went.

Slowly, Rose sank down onto the bed, tears running freely down her face. She made no attempt to wipe them away. The fragments of parchment lay on the floorboards, scattered like ash. She picked them up and, with a sudden ferocity, screwed them up in her hand and threw them at the wall.

She flopped back onto her bed and cried, the sobs heaving in her chest, making her starved for air. She knew she wasn't fat and surely she wasn't that unattractive, yet the words still cut her deeply. It wasn't a clean wound however, like a sword or an axe. Instead, it felt more like shrapnel from a shell; every time she felt she had been completely cut apart, yet there were always more shards to come.

She glanced over at the scrunched up bits of parchment lying at the foot of the opposite wall. She climbed off the bed, having finally regained her composure and peeled the thick, contorted bits of paper apart, piecing the words together. When it was finally legible, she sat back down on the bed and began to read.

Rosie,

We have just received your report you enclosed from last term. I cannot tell you how proud we are of you. I copied them out and sent them to all our relatives, even Grandma and Grandpa Granger. They told me to tell you they're extremely proud to have such a clever granddaughter. Of course, they haven't a clue what any of it means, but it was a nice thought.

Hugo hasn't been writing as much recently. I suppose he's busy with his studies. Dad keeps telling me not to worry and that he'll be busy with schoolwork and such of the like. I know he's probably right but I can't help worrying a little bit. I don't suppose you could keep an eye on him anyway, could you?

Rose snorted. If only her mother knew exactly what Hugo was doing. Her little brother had taken to magically experimenting with pretty much anything he could lay his hands on and she had seen him emerge from the boy's dormitory on several occasions with a blackened face, hair full of soot and a slightly dazed expression on his face. She'd already given him a serious talking to and he'd assured her that nothing he did was dangerous. Although irritating and attention seeking, she didn't think that Hugo would do anything too crazy. It was just like her mum to panic, though. With a pang of homesickness, Rose imagined her mother now, hair frantically pushed behind her ear, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration, her quill punching holes in the parchment. She'd have to tell Hugo to write to her soon, before she suffered some sort of attack.

It's been quite cloudy up here recently. Dad hasn't had much chance to get outside. Grandpa and Grandma Weasley stayed up here the other weekend and it was nice to see them again. Victoire's managed to get a job in Cardiff in the National Portkey Offices and she's settling down well. Of course, what with Teddy's new job in the Ministry, they've not had much chance to see each other recently but I'm sure it'll all work out in the end.

George and Angelina are fine. How're Fred and Roxanne? We haven't seen them for ages.

We expect to see you back at Christmas. Everyone is still debating as to whether it's The Burrow or Grimauld Place this year. Grandma obviously wants to be hostess although Harry is adamant that he repays her for all the years he's stayed with her. Personally, I think Grimauld Place is a better option, as Grandma could do with a rest. Of course, she'll end up taking it upon herself to do all the cooking. Again.

Dad's been staying late at the office quite a lot; I think they're working him too hard. I suggested he take some time off but he thinks I'm worrying over nothing. Apparently there's a particularly important case that's come up and he's had to do extra hours. I just hope it doesn't go on for too long.

As Head of the Incriminating Object Removal Squad at the Ministry of Magic, Rose's Dad often had to stay behind at work to finish off a particularly dangerous or taxing case. Although not ideal, this situation was better than it had been before. Formerly an Aurour, he'd stayed away from home for long periods of time, often ranging up to a month and this had only finished when he'd retired into a desk job. Although being the Head of Department wasn't as exhilarating as being an Aurour had been, the Weasleys spent more time together and that made Mum happier.

Anyway, good luck with this term. We love you.

Lots of love,

Mum x

Rose smiled, although her heart felt empty and sad. She almost wished her mum wouldn't write, as that would stop these cruel flashbacks into a world where she wasn't loathed, where people didn't call her names and make foul references whenever she happened to walk past. At home she could kid herself that everything was ok, and that school wasn't hell. The flashbacks were cruel, although she didn't know how she'd go on without them.

Suddenly, the door opened. Her cousin, Lily Potter flounced in and sat at the bottom of the bed. At thirteen, Lily was most definitely her mother's daughter, with her flaming red hair and her flaming temperament.

"Where were you at dinner?" She asked, settling herself down at Rose's feet.

"I wasn't hungry." Rose sniffled. "Besides, I'd kind of have enough of the 'Potter Fan Club'."

"Tell me about it." Lily made a face. "I've had about seventy girls trying to wring facts about him out of me. He's my brother. He's vile." Rose smiled; it seemed the first time in an age.

"Are you ok?" Lily's own smile faltered. "You look like you've been crying."

"Hayfever..." Rose gestured airily with her arm, as if indicating the source. Lily didn't follow through but got the message anyway: the subject was best left alone.

"Ok." Lily stood up, stretching her arms and legs. "Hester and Jo are waiting for me so..." She trailed off, obviously feeling awkward.

"Go." Rose smiled. "Have fun. I'll see you later."

"Thanks." Lily smiled back, relieved. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Lily smiled one last time and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Rose stared at the door for some time. So maybe not everyone hated her...

Reuben Desstein really needed a trowel shoving somewhere intimate. The thought flickered through Rose's head before she had time to regulate it and she snorted into her Mandrake experiment, amused at the mental image the concept offered her.

Alerted by the sound, Reuben stopped mid-flow of spouting about how he'd managed to make Hufflepuff seeker Freddy Carmichael look '...a complete airheaded idiot', and turned to stare at her.

"Something funny, Weasley?" He asked, his face twisted with scorn.

"Yes, actually." She said. "Although I don't think you'll understand. I don't speak troll."

"What?" Reuben asked, more out of honest bewilderment than any in cruel way, although extra cruelty was always received with open arms from Reuben Desstein, Slytherin Quidditch Legend.

"Nothing..." Rose answered, smugly patting down the compost around her mandrake. She glanced up again, just in time to see Rebecca Weldworth mouth something to Christina. They both sniggered.

"Everyone stop a minute!" Professor Longbottom, or as Rose knew him, Neville, was standing at the top end of the greenhouse, holding a fully grown mandrake and looking like he was increasingly regretting exactly how practical he had made this lesson. "Now, we've already had one near accident and I'd be very grateful if we all did our utmost to avoid anything like that happening again..." He shot a significant look in the direction of Ana Iverson, who turned scarlet and hastily tried to hide the broken bits of plant pot she was holding. "Now..." Neville continued. "You'll have studied mandrakes in your second year. I know that's a long time ago so don't go panicking about remembering everything from then. We're going to be studying them in a lot more detail. Pull out your textbooks and turn to page eighty-four..."

The class obliged and a faint murmur rippled across the class as students reached into their bags and pulled out textbooks. Rose reached down under the table to find that her bag had somehow disappeared. Suspecting that this was another one of Rebecca's jokes, she pulled herself back up and was about to ask Molly Barton if she could borrow hers, when a voice made her jump.

"Excuse me...I seem to have picked up your bag by accident..." She turned.

Standing behind her was an exceptionally tall, lanky boy with untidy white-blonde hair and a long, slightly crooked nose. He was very pale, almost translucent and the green trim around the outside of his robes proclaimed him as a Slytherin. He was holding her bag. Rose recognised him as Scorpius Malfoy, the boy her father had pointed out to her five years ago at Platform 9 ¾. He had always been a quiet member of the classes they'd taken together. After the initial interest of their fathers once knowing each other, he'd slowly sunk to the back of her mind, forgotten due to the more pressing matters she'd had to deal with such as exams and homework. She'd never had an actual conversation with him before and she accepted her bag off him with an uneasy smile.

"Thanks."

"It's ok." He seemed to study her for a moment, assessing her from somewhere behind his grey eyes. "Do you mind if we're partners?" He asked, resting a hand on the work bench. "It's just...everyone else on my table is already taken." He gestured over to where a gaggle of Slytherins were all flicking through textbooks and doodling on bits of parchment.

"Yeah," Rose smiled, slightly bemused. "That's fine."

"Great." He smiled shyly, before dragging a stool from another bench over to the table. Rose stared at him for a moment. He was alright, this Scorpius bloke. At least, he hadn't tried to humiliate her yet.

He sat down next to her, pulling out his own textbook.

"Right..." He murmured, leafing through the pages. Rose couldn't help noticing that, although long and slightly crooked, his nose was actually quite nice and seemed to shape his face well. He scratched the bridge of it with a long, pale, slim finger and she quickly turned back to her book, desperately trying to be less of a freak than usual.

"So..." He began, having found the right page. "Mandrakes...remember anything?"

"Erm..." Frantically, Rose cast her mind back three years. "The screaming is extremely dangerous. Normally, we'd have to be wearing earmuffs, or at least some sort of hearing protection but – "

"Then why aren't we?" Scorpius suddenly looked terrified. Rose smiled smugly.

"Because of this..." She dragged the nearest mandrake pot closer and grasped hold of the leaves, heaving it out of the compost with a yank. Scorpius winced ready for the deafening shrieks.

They never came. The balding, exceedingly ugly, baby-like root from which the mandrake leaves sprouted, had been crudely gagged with a spotty scarf. The mandrake strained against it, its little jaw opening and closing, although no sound could be heard from it.

"Professor Longbottom performed a silencing charm on them earlier, anyway. I think he just put the gag on because it gave him some sort of warped satisfaction..." She trailed off, as Scorpius was still staring, slack jawed in disgusted awe at the ugly little creature dangling from her arm. "Really, Scorpius..." She said. "...you ought to pay more attention in class..."

"It's Malfoy." He replied, having recovered a little.

"Malfoy?" Rose asked, dumping the extremely annoyed mandrake back into the pot. "You go by your surname?"

"So would you if your Dad called you Scorpius." Rose smiled.

"Maybe..." She said. "...maybe...although that would be weird; I'm a girl."

Malfoy walked with her to Transfiguration. Rose couldn't help but wonder why. After all, there was no shortage of Slytherins, all laughing at each other for no apparent reason.

"Why did you take Transfiguration?" He asked, as they walked across the grounds, back towards the castle.

"It's useful." Rose panted, as she tried to keep up with the length of Malfoy's strides; his legs were annoyingly long. "You?"

"Same, really." He looked away, towards the Slytherins. They continued a little way in silence, only broken with Rose's heavy breathing and the slushing sound of their feet on the dewy grass.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Rose said, as they reached the stone steps leading up to the courtyard. Malfoy shrugged.

"I dunno." He looked down at her, squinting in the sun. She smiled.

The veranda running around the edge of the courtyard was shady and, although the sun was not particularly warm, it was refreshing to be out of its clutches. As they walked up to the huge, oak doors, Rose noticed Professor Grundelwort giving one third year a severe talking to. As they neared, Rose noticed with a jolt that the third year was Hugo and that bits of ash were falling in clumps from his hair.

"Hang on..." Rose murmured to Malfoy. She marched over towards them, her feet ringing out on the cobbles. Hugo looked up from his shabby looking and worryingly burned shoes, just in time to see his sister marching towards him, a terrifying look on her face.

In her wake, a lanky, slightly weedy looking boy with white-blonde hair drifted behind her awkwardly; obviously unsure as to whether he should stay or leave without her. Something about him was vaguely familiar, although Hugo had no more time to speculate, as Rose had arrived next to him, and was shooting him an icy glare.

"Any problems, Professor?" Grundelwort turned.

"Ah. Miss Weasley. I have just extracted young Hugo here from Professor Longbottom's Freshwater Plimpy pond. I believe he was trying to take a few and we all know how fond Professor Longbottom is of his Plimpies."

"I wasn't trying to take any." Hugo protested. "I just wanted to sketch one for my Herbology homework..."

"Which I suppose is why you brought these instruments with you, then?" Grundelwort raised a considerably hairy eyebrow and held up a bell jar and a small fishing net. Hugo didn't say anything. "Detention, Mr Weasley." Grundelwort said, not without a hint of satisfaction. "Tuesday after school. My office." He turned on his heel and left, the instruments tucked into his robes.

"What were you doing?" Rose asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing."

"Freshwater Plimpies aren't even on the Third Year Herbology Syllabus so I really don't think – "

"Shut up." Hugo grabbed his bag off the floor.

"Alright..." Rose said slowly, frowning at him. "You know Mum's really worried about you, don't you? You should write to her. While you're winging it, I'm getting an earful."

"Fine." Hugo replied, shortly. Rose looked him up and down.

"Are you alright, Hugo?"

"I'm fine. See you later..." He marched off up the stone steps and the huge oak door slammed shut behind him.

Rose frowned after him.

"Your brother?" Malfoy asked.

"Unfortunately." Rose turned and smiled grimly. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's ok."

They climbed the stairs together, both occasionally sneaking looks at the other, wondering what exactly it was that was making the other stay.

A/N – I've managed to update in what must be record time for me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Any reviews would be great.

Thanks,

Ellen