Chapter 18

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Prefects!" Dominique chirped, clapping her hands together giddily. "As you know, the second half of the term is when 7th years bust out the big pranks, so we will be assigning permanent partners for rounds this semester."

Excited whispers broke out in the small group of Prefects and hands went flying.

"Yes, Ali?" Dominique asked, pointing at Ali Longbottom.

"But we already have partners," she said.

"This is a little different," the blond Gryffindor explained. "This semester, your partner will be by your side for all rounds; there will be no splitting up to cover more grounds."

Ali nodded her head.

"Will we have the same partners?" Rachelle Davies questioned, her big front teeth protruding over her lower lip. "Or will we be paired with our House equivalents?"

"Neither," Clark Arlington said, boredom written all over his face.

"Clark is right," Dominique said. "The pairings will be within the same year, but your House is not a significant factor and neither is your gender. I have the list right here." She pulled out a scroll from her bag behind her and calmly zipped it back up, showing the parchment to us. "Listen up, guys. The 7th year partners will be me and Clark, as Head Boy and Head Girl have more specific duties; Justin Goforth and Ruth Verne; Freya Morkinton and Meghan Tousslepot; Cadmus Galloway and Kurt Macmillan."

There were several groans emitted, but all in all, people seemed content with their partners.

"Next, the sixth years," she said, clearing her throat.

I perked up in my seat a little.

"Louis Weasley and Beckett Gage; Rachelle Davies and Blake Zabini."

Glancing over to Blake, I saw him grimace a little. Then, his dark eyes caught mine and I turned away, sighing. I hadn't spoken to him in over two weeks, but he obviously knew about me being removed from our family tree. Who didn't? I felt guilty for not confiding in him, especially since he was probably the most understanding out of my group of Slytherin friends. But it wasn't like he was trying to contact me; if it had been him in my position, I'll admit that I would have ignore him like I'd never known him. It was a shame to recall my attitude towards rejected Slytherins, Muggle-borns, and blood traitors.

"Fred Weasley and Iris Greghan," Dominique continued, clear eyes scanning our own just to ensure that she held our attention.

I noticed Weasel give Potter a satisfied look and then watched as he ran his eyes over the cute Hufflepuff girl. She giggled and waved to him, flashing a flirtatious smile.

Sickened, I almost forgot that I hadn't been assigned a partner yet. Then, it dawned on my that there was only one other sixth year left to be paired with and I felt like I'd swallowed my entire esophagus as my eyes met James Potter's.

My horrors were confirmed as Dominique called out, "Rosalie Flint and James Potter. Now, to move on to the fifth years."

I didn't listen as she listed the remaining pairs. I was too obsorbed in the fact that I would be spending my Prefect duties side-by-side with Potter.

Did the gods hate me?

I jumped a little when our door slammed open - again - and Albus Potter stormed in, limping and muttering curses. The tall, fourteen year old boy sat next to Louis and across from me, green eyes glazed over.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked.

"Shut up!" he retorted bitterly.

"I love you too, Al," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry," Albus said, sighing as he glanced over to his cousin. "I think I broke my toe, and James has been laughing at me all morning. I needed a safe place to hide from him," he explained.

"Why is this compartment safer than the others?" I asked quietly, slightly annoyed.

He gave me an apologetic look and told me honestly, "Because you're in here."

"Great. And that's the insufferable baboon I get to share Prefect duties with!"

"My condolences," Louis snickered. During my small time with Louis, I had learned from him that he wasn't very fond of his cousin, James. He complained that James was, and I quote, "He is immature and lacks common sense. He never thinks about anything before he does it, and it often lands him in difficult situations. He's very oblivious to reality."

Actually, I had learned a lot about Louis' family. He had 9 or ten cousins, and he enjoyed the company of Lucy the most, who shared an infatuation with books like himself. His sister, Victoire, was 5 months pregnant, with James' godbrother's child. His mother was French and had taught Louis and Victoire quite a bit. Dominique hadn't taken any interest in the langauge.

"You speak French?" I'd asked the Ravenclaw boy.

"Oui, mademoiselle," he had answered, flashing me a grin. ("Yes, ma'am.")

"Je ne savais pas." I'd been very impressed; not many students spoke French at Hogwarts. ("I didn't know.")

"On est tres interessant," he'd mused, before casting his eyes down at his book once more, telling me about his favorite authors. ("It is very interesting.")

I ignored Louis' smart comment and looked down at Albus' bare foot. "How did you hurt your toe?" I asked patiently, staring at the swollen stub that was totally purple underneath the toe nail. He winced when he touched it tenderly.

"Lily slammed it in the car door... don't ask," he said, face contorted in pain.

I examined it, and then took out my wand swiftly. Before he could say anything, I said briskly and loudly, "Episkey!"

The toe cracked and fell back into place. Albus yelled out in pain as I mended his broken toe, glaring at me unhappily as I put my wand back into my robes silently. "That wasn't necessary!" he told me, glancing back down at his healed toe. The swelling was already starting to go down.

"You're such a baby. I am disappointed in you Albus; I expected you to remember that cunning little spell. All of us learned it in second year, after all. It comes in handy, especially with broken toes, noses, and dislocated fingers. I have quite a signifigant amount of experience using it, playing Quidditch and all. Oh, and you're welcome."

He stared at me for a moment, before saying simply, "You are something else, Rosalie Flint."

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" I responded.

"I'd take it as a compliment," Louis said thoughtfully.

"Alright," I said nonchalantly. "Well, go on! Try walking on it!"

Albus stood up slowly, letting out a sigh of relief when he realized that it was perfectly healed and back to it's original state. "Sweet! This is amazing; you're a saint, Rosalie. Thanks."

I just gave him a nod as he stepped on it over and over again, grinning stupidly when he didn't feel any pain.

"I trust you all had a wonderful winter holiday," McGonagall spoke from the front of the Great Hall.

"Sure," I muttered sarcastically, playing with my empty goblet. I sat by myself at the long Slytherin table, on the receiving end of many glares. I knew the rest of this year was going to be bad, but this was just ridiculous.

"Just a few announcements," the headmistress continued. "As usual, the Forbidden Forest is off limits, even more so this semester. A new breed of wolves has settled in the forest and they are known to be rather territorial. Unless you are under the strict supervision of a staff member, do not trespass. Also, the Prefects have doubled up on duty-"

Groans rose from the crowds of students.

"So I expect no funny business from any of you. With that out of the way, welcome back to Hogwarts! Let the feast begin!"

On the large platters in front of me, food grew and grew until the plates were stuffed. Our goblets filled with our favorite drinks and all hell broke loose as students fought for food and tried to talk over each other, voices rising to their highest volumes.

My head started to pound violently.

Mariette watched me from her group of friends, her eyes guarded and expression grim. She sat next to Sophie Goulding and I gave a knowing look - not a comforting look, but a knowing look; one that said with a couple of words, she could be in the same position as me. alone and disowned, shunned by everyone. She turned away, but I knew she was still thinking about the situation by the way she chewed on her lower lip. I didn't receive one glimpse of sympathy from her.

I started picking at some carrots, but they looked extremely unappetizing. I sighed, letting my fork clatter at the side of my plate, slouching forward and shutting my eyes.

The high voice of a little girl grew closer as she laughed with a friend, obviously going to visit someone else at the other end of the table. But as she walked past me, she stumbled over her own feet and her goblet flew forward, spilling ice-cold pumpkin juice all over the back of my robes and my hair. It soaked through the fabric, causing the clothes to stick to my back.

Everyone saw what had happened. The Great Hall went almost silent, the eyes of every witch and wizard on me and the girl. They waited to see how I would react, and what I would do.

I was known at Hogwarts for my flaming temper. I felt like screaming. I felt like hitting and hexing the girl until I was fully restrained and every ounce of energy had been used up. And I almost did, too, but my furious rage died at once when I met the blue eyes of a little Slytherin first year with soft, ebony hair.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, eyes wide with terror. "I didn't mean to!"

The sugar in the pumpkin juice was causing my hair to go stringy. Soon, it would be sticky and impossible to deal with. I stood up, looking down at the little girl that had reminded me of myself, long ago at the beginning of the year.

I couldn't br mad at her. It was the people who treated me so awfully when I was her age that corrupted me. The glares and screams and violence of angry Slytherins had taught me to be cold and unforgiving. I didn't want this little girl to grow up to be like that.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled, staring at her. "I'm going to go wash up."

She let out a sigh of relief as I turned away.

Feeling the eyes of the surprised students of Hogwarts on my back, I hurried out of the Great Hall, my face emotionless as I found my way to the dungeons, covered in pumpkin juice.

The whispers didn't die down for a long time. Everyone was talking about Rosalie Flint and her reaction. Or her lack of one, that is to say.

James Potter stared at the doors of the Great Hall, even though Rosalie had left nearly five minutes before. It was odd, certainly, but for some reason it hadn't surprised him.

She had changed. She was different than before. Yes, she was still an egomaniac, still thick-headed and angry and infuriating. But she was different. She was no longer ties to the cruel beliefs of her family, and that made her change.

He still felt guilty about her being disowned. She had sacrificed a sure future of comfort and wealth to testify for his baby sister. But she had done the right thing, and she knew it herself. And James was forever thankful for it.

"What are you staring at?" Fred asked him warily.

"Nothing," James muttered.

"I have to ask you something," Fred said, folding his hands and giving James a look.

"What?" he asked cautiously, looking at his cousin with slanted eyes.

"Do you fancy Rosalie Flint?"

"Why, do you object to our love? No measure of time will be enough!" James cried.

Fred rolled his eyes. "You are such a drama queen."

"It's drama king! KING! Say it with me: Drama. King. KING! Not queen! I am not a female, I am a man!"

"Sure. But I was being serious."

"No, I'm Sirius. James Sirius."

Fred's matching brown eyes widened. "You're avoiding the question!"

"No-" James paused. "No, I don't fancy Flint. That's absurd."

"You hesitated," Fred pointed out.

"I did not!" James denied. "Flint and I would never last."

"But you're hinting that there's a possibility?"

"Stop it!" James shouted loudly. "I don't fancy Rosalie Flint!"

The Gryffindor table instantly hushed up, staring at him as if he were mad.

"Why does everyone start listening at the worst times?" he grumbled, his face flushing red.

Fred dropped the subject then, thankfully. But it left James' mind to wander, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. Did he hesitate? No, of course not! He and Flint? Please. There was absolutely not one shred of attraction between the two of them.

He was sure of it.

Right.

He only saw Rosalie Flint one more time that night, and that was when she was in the library. It was almost 8:30, and she was sitting at a table with Louis, holding up a novel and smiling at something his cousin had said.

She never smiled at James like that. What did Louis have that he didn't?

And suddenly, his thoughts plunged into ways to make Rosalie Flint like him.

He shouldn't have cared. But he did.

It's funny how that worked.

A/N: I hope this doesn't seem weird. Or cliche. And tell me what you think about Louis! Thanks for all of the reviews! Criticism is greatly appreciated!