AUTHOR'S/MAJOR APOLOGY NOTE: Err...yeah. So, here I am...after, lemme count...around 3 months? Yeah...I wouldn't be surprised if anyone who actually reads this wants to pull my hair out right now. But, as you can already tell, my excuses are:
-Procrastination...obviously.
-Being afraid this will turn out horrible which it perhaps did, I don't really know.
-And, of course, technological issues recently, where I had already finished this chapter a week ago and couldn't publish it because my email address linked to this account got deleted(I deleted it and then totally panicked, remembering that it was linked to this site...NOOOOOEEESSSS). CURSE YOU, INTERNET.
-And, well yeah. Dilemna dilemna...I know. But, now, finally, I've finished it(and, don't get me wrong, I take literally 2 days to write these chapters but never find enough Let's-be-creative-not-lazy inside me to actually close the anime I'm watching or something and open Microsoft Word. So yeah.
I hope you enjoy despite how EPICALLY delayed this is and well, have a nice day, I suppose, whoever and wherever you are. Thanks for reading or reviewing or anything, really :)
Forgot the date today (pretty sure it's still 2022, so, we're good), Potions.
I never planned for this to happen. I never did...actually; I never plan for anything to happen. But, it does. Because it's blatantly obvious that if there was any 'Give-a-Honey badger-y' class somewhere for the Gods to take, they'd be hardcore flunking it when Rose Weasley would come into the discussion.
But, you see, I have also been told that my supposedly "infinite" amounts of complaining are what cause that, but I disagree.
Anyway, now recently branded a psychopathic stalker by my also very (ironically) insane mates, I have no option to just tell you already that I am nowhere near what you think I am…I DO NOT STALK PEOPLE. UGH.
Here are the notes I took earlier and that title, as you can tell, is not my handwriting, it's Elle's...
Stalking 101: Day 1: Getting to know the one you stalk, Library.
Monday, December 5th, 2pm…...He's sitting right there by a table nearby. I don't know if he knows yet but he hasn't glanced this way yet so I'm assuming he doesn't…OH CRAP. WHAT IF…WHAT IF MY PERFECT CHANCE TO MARRY RYAN WILLIAMS SLIPS AWAY BECAUSE HE DIDN'T KNOW ALL THIS TIME THAT WE WERE PARTNERS FOR THE O.W.L.S. CRAP…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Monday, December 5th, 4pm…...Wow. That man sure likes to study. It has been 2 hours (not that I'm complaining…since he is the protégé of Albert Einstein).
Monday, December 5th, 5pm…...I took a nap…accidentally…yeah….And, I dreamt of Ryan leaning in to kiss me. I don't know if that excuses the fact that when my eyes flung open, he was still right there, scribbling vigorously on a parchment I swear I saw him pull out hours and hours ago. I mean, WHERE ON EARTH DOES HE BUY HIS PARCHMENT?! IT'S FLIPPING LONGER THAN PI.
Monday, December 5th, 5:05pm…..He hates me. He most definitely hates me with a passion. I have waited and waited and waited…Ryan, I love you and you're perfect and brilliant and awesome, but how long can you not notice a person literally millimeters away from you?! AND, HOW LONG IS THAT FLIPPING PARCHMENT?!
Monday, December 5th, 5:15pm…..WHAT?! A…ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Alright. Go ahead. You make me wait for 3 hours and 15 minutes and then when April comes walking by, you invite her to sit with you and then openly FLIRT with her?! Doesn't he know I can hear him? As mentioned before, he is practically millimeters away from my table). If only I had more Gryffindor in me (Damn you sorting hat for mis-sorting me), I'd head on over to that blimey table and then bang my 1000-paged Transfiguration textbook over that girl's blonde, shiny head! He is my husband-to-be, excuse you!
Monday, December 5th, 5:25pm…..YES. YES. I KNEW IT. I WAS STARTING TO QUESTION THE STRENGTH OF MY CRUSH, BUT I KNOW NOW. HE IS INCREDIBLE AND I AM SO SORRY, , THAT I QUESTIONED YOUR PERFECTION. I sound ridiculous, I know. But, what I have heard right now, not even words can describe.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend, Ryan?" April, also better known as the stuck up mate of Barbie Lydia, says…unsurprisingly…
And, then sophisticated as he is, "Well, I'm waiting for the right girl"
"You know, I broke up with Alex the other day…so…"
"Oh, he never told me anything about that"
"He doesn't have to…" And, then she bites her lip all…you know, how, not going into the details, leaning in closer to him whilst soothing her hand up and down the dark blue cotton of the sweater on his arm. I gagged. Visibly. I prayed he didn't notice because at that moment, I averted my eyes so fast I could've been a ninja (Speaking of ninjas, I dreamt of being a karate sensei air chopping Mudfloy while he pleaded for mercy…Well, that's what you get for ditching me earlier, you arse). Anyway, I could sense someone was looking at me. And, I had a feeling it was Ryan, behind me.
"Rose?" I died. I literally died. My insides were waiting to unleash their Incredible-Hulk rage. No, I mean serious small intestine playing Sudoku with my liver and pancreas sort of business.
I tried to play it off, the epic fail I am. I just sat there, frozen for a whole long second while he called my name another time, convinced if I ignored him long enough, he'd be left with the impression that the awkward girl with the black hoodie over her head wasn't actually Rose Weasley but an entirely different person. Well, that worked out just fine, didn't it, Rose? WHY MUST I WEAR THE SAME THINGS ALL THE TIME? Let me explain; Hoodies are pretty much my entire personality. I mean, honestly, if anyone were to advertise tasteless, dull hoodies, they'd choose me to be the prime face on their billboard.
I ignored him a little longer. Ryan Williams, that is. But, as you, I, or anyone can tell, that plan failed after…let's just say a second. Because when my eyes that were squeezed shut opened, I saw him, indeed, my husband-to-be, simply standing there, glancing down at me whilst my chin rested on the glass of the table.
"What're you doing here?" he asked, but I knew that he really wanted to say, 'WHY ARE YOU STALKING ME, YOU CREEPY TWAT?!'Or did he? I don't even know anymore.
My head shot up and I made these weird, awkward gestures with my hand while trying to come up with an answer. "Books…and….homework…and…err…you were sitting there so…I mean…I was…I was just studying…nothing else…d'you think I was doing anything else...'cause I wasn't, you know…j-just to clarify".
Facepalm.
Of course I'm not stalking you, why on earth would I be doing that, right? Right? Right?
I need to think before I speak, really.
He cracked a smile, much to my surprise, and shook his head as if to avoid my incredible insanity. "Why don't you join us?" he pointed to the table he was sitting on.
"Err….that…I…don't really know if I can-" Double Facepalm. Well, folks, it's safe to say I do not have any idea how to speak English, indeed my mother language, anymore.
"C'mon" and before I realized, he had grabbed my wrist (OH MY GOD, I WENT TO HEAVEN AND BACK) and taken me to his table. Yep. Ryan Williams touched me and I did not die from a heart attack. NEW WORLD RECORD.
Monday, December 5th, 5:35pm…..HE KNEW! YAAAY! HE KNEW!
When he asked me to sit with him (with April, of course, but I completely ignored her…or tried to), he told me he was already working on the booklet (he received it in his letter, I didn't receive anything but who my partner was, so…) and that we should meet up next Tuesday. And, you can already guess what my answer was, right? No. I said no…I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world! Well, actually, I just said 'Yes', because I'm not so cheesy, but yeah. Things are finally working out for a certain Weasley.
THE END OF MY STALKING ADVENTURE WITH A CERTAIN WILLIAMS .
UGH. ELLE, I WILL MURDER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP.
Wednesday, December 7th (finally remembered the date), Girls Dormitory, Late-ish.
Laura's Love in the air is actually becoming into a drama series now.
Yep.
She can't stop talking on and on and on about it and Elle and I have to go to bed.
WHY DO FANDOMS HAVE TO RUIN HORMONAL GIRLS' POOR LIVES?!
Stupid Fandoms. Stupid Romance novels. Stupid sleep.
Thursday, December 8th, Breakfast.
Same as always. Fred mixed a hint of Babbling Beverage potion in third-year Burris Evergreen's pumpkin juice and now he can't stop ranting on and on about the colour of his hair because God knows why, Laura's still obsessing over her newly founded drama series, Elle can't stop teasing me about Ryan Williams, and I can't stop rolling my eyes.
Ugh.
I can't wait till Tuesday so that I can meet up with Ryan; my ever so uneventful live needs to become more eventful, don't you think?
Oh and Scorpius Malfoy is still mad at me. Lovely, isn't it?
P.S. Did you know that Malfoy's O.W.L.S. partner is April? Neither did I. Oh and does anyone have a blimey clue of who is Laura's partner…she won't tell us! Elle's, I know; she got….sigh. She got Al. She told me the very day we received the letter but Laura said it was a secret then and hasn't said a single word till now…
Thursday, December 8th, Ancient Runes.
He sits right behind me now. WHY?!
Ugh.
Why can't Professor just fix that twat at one specific spot for the rest of the term, why here, why now of all times, does she have to put Mudfloy of all people over there?!
Oh God.
I feel like while I'm not looking, that prat is glaring laser beams at me with those cold eyes of his…ugh. Chills.
I mean, I can totally imagine it.
His mind is simply reeling through all the list of reasons why he hates me more than any living being in the whole damn universe…In fact, I think I can actually predict all that's going on inside Scorpius Malfoy's mind at the exact instant.
Inside Scorpius Malfoy's mind:
By Rose Weasley.
Oh God. She is just so unbearable. I wish I could just wring her neck right now, honestly. And, have you seen that hair?! Ugh. Red is my least favourite colour, by the way. Oh sorry, I forgot I even had a favourite colour, because I hate everything and everyone, of course, and tend to think I am better than all.
What is she even writing in that old, dirty book of hers? Or is that…Oh Good God, could that be a diary?!
I know exactly what to do now…MUAHAHAHAHA.
I will steal it and spread all it contains! I bet I can even make money off of it. I'm just such an evil mastermind, aren't I? Lia would be so proud of me, after all, we are meant for each other, you know. She's stuck up and I'm a prick and BAM! Star-crossed lovers!
Anyway, that Weasley is so obsessed with me. Honestly, she couldn't stop throwing notes at me earlier, I'm sure to apologize for her perfect innocence and no whatsoever crime, but I ignored her because why? BECAUSE I'M A PRAT. PERIOD.
And, that's how it's done.
I know Scorpius Malfoy better than anyone.
Thursday, December 8th, Slightly later.
YOU WOULD NOT ABSOLUTELY BELIEVE WHAT ON EARTH JUST HAPPENED.
Okay. So, Elle and I are leaving Ancient Runes (which Laura, most peculiarly, skipped) and then guess what happened?
No, take your time. It's okay. Guess.
Well, we walk down the corridor and then head on over to the stairwell to get to Herbology, yeah? And, as we climb down the spiral stairs, side by side, our rucksacks bouncing up and down…WE SEE LAURA AND PRETTY BOY MATTHEW HARDCORE SNOGGING.
Yep.
Right there, right then against the cement wall.
And, go ahead, guess again. What did we do next?
WE RAN FOR IT LIKE NEVER BEFORE.
Yep.
So, in that awkward long silence, Elle grabs my wrist and pulls me the other way whilst we race down the stairs we came from, holding in our obvious giggles. What? We see our best mate snogging a bloke out of nowhere; in the middle of nowhere…what do you want us to do? Pat her on the back and say, "Good for you, you've finally come this far!" That's what we were planning to do, yes, but only during lunch or Transfiguration which we had next, you know.
Sigh.
Our little girl is growing up right before our eyes, isn't she?
Cough. Cough. She's actually two months older than me.
Thursday, December 8th, Herbology.
Elle says I'm too 'diary-obsessed', whatever that means. She says I'm documenting almost 99% of my life. And, I disagree. It's 98%, at the most. Ahem ahem. Mind you.
So, anyway, the weather's actually quite nice today. IT ISN'T RAINING, FOR ONCE, THAT'S FOR SURE. But, other than that, there's a almost a warm mixture to the-
Hold on. Why hasn't the bell rung yet? I've been waiting for forever over here. Stupid bell. It rings within a jiffy when I'm about to be late.
I bet bells even have a national anthem.
Something like:
We mark when you get to class,
Don't bother; you're all late anyway,
Some students we must harass,
Rose Weasley is our prime target,
Pester her we must,
A good joke is what we lust,
Look at her run,
She'll never make it, that fool,
We must make her flunk,
Oh, how awesome we are and-
Whoa. That came out of nowhere. Sorry, excuse me, one of my insane mates need to consider their timing more often. Merlin. Hold on while I open this crap.
E: Hey, diary obsessed. How's it going?
R: Not funny, Elle. I was writing a national anthem for bells. Super important. The whole academic world relies on it.
E: Wow. You really need some friends.
R: Yes, please. And, less cousins.
E: I wish I had cousins. Too bad both my parents are the only children in their families.
R: Merlin. You're mad. What do you want cousins for? You wanna die?
E: Well, normal cousins. Not like the ones you have.
R: No cousin is normal, Elle. No cousin. It's like a curse that runs down generations. I bet some uncle centuries ago, screwed up really bad and all of his children turned out to be blimey insane. And, as legend says, mate, that is where CIS comes from. Donate money at 0552-1321.
E: CIS? And, isn't that the number for the muggle communication thingie you have at home? Why do you have that anyway? Never understood.
R: Don't you know all insanity originates from the Weasley household? And, why on earth not? Muggles are awesome. I urged my mum to bring one of those telephones (you should've paid more attention in muggle studies, mate) in the living room and we did on our next visit to my grandparents. Also, how can you not have heard of CIS? It's a leading first world problem. Cousin Insanity Syndrome.
E: I'd rather donate to RIS. Rose Insanity Syndrome. From here on, every girl named Rose would be as mad as they come. It's pretty serious.
R: Well, I, then, am proud to say that a syndrome is named after me. Awesome…Also, why hasn't the bell rung yet?
E: And, why isn't Laura here yet?
R: So much going on today, eh? I bet she's still with You-Know-Who.
E: Voldemort?
R: No, Pretty Boy Matthew. Ugh. This brings back childhood memories.
E: What childhood memories?
R: Well, when Al and I were little, there was a girl in our second grade (we went to a muggle school, remember?) class who was really pretty and he liked. One day, I couldn't find him during recess, so when we were walking home after school, I said, "Were you with You-Know-Who?" And, he thought I was talking about Voldemort and got super angry at me. Chills.
E: Ouch.
R: I know. Why can't Voldemort just stick with his own name? Why steal 'You-know-who'? Prick.
E: Most people would call him a prick for other reasons, but okay.
R: Indeed.
E: Rose? You know you're okay, right?
R: Err…yes? No? Probably? Maybe? Potentially? I don't know. What're you talking about?
E: Nothing. Never change, okay?
R: Err….alright?
E: Yep.
R: Elle, you're scaring me and-HOLY COW, WAS THAT THE BELL?! OR AM I HALLUCINATING?
E: Nope, pretty sure that was the bell.
R: OH THANK MERLIN!
E: Yep, now we can get our tests back from last week.
R: WHAT?! WHAT TESTS?
E: Err…the same test which you went mad about because you lost your textbook? Why?
R: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. DIG MY GRAVE RIGHT NOW HELEN WOODHOUSE. RIGHT NOW.
E: Err…sure? How deep?
R: AS DEEP AS TO GET THE JOB DONE, MATE. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. DO IT.
E: Rose, are you worried that you failed?
R: FAILED?! Elle, failed cannot even begin to describe it. I was defeated. Crushed. Slaughtered mercilessly against the walls of DOOM.
E: Hold on, is that Laura? And, is it me or do her eyes look puffy?
R: What? Where?
Thursday, December 8th, Lunch.
Yes, I know what you're thinking. Rose, you failed, of course. Probably got a grade even worse than a T, didn't you? What will your mum say? Pretty sure Mudfloy would be pestering you about this later, huh?
BUT, NO. YOU ARE ALL WRONG.
I passed! More than passed, I got an E!
IN YOUR FACE, MUDFLOY.
Ahem, sorry. Probably should scribble that one off…
And, now I just made a mess of ink with my quill all over the paper. Lovely.
Well, sure, I didn't get an O, but who on earth gets an Outstanding these days anyway? And, why on Earth would Rose flipping Weasley get an O in the first place, to begin with? So, all in all, I am not complaining. I actually suggested celebrating just now, like hosting my very first ACTUAL party (yes, I know, I'm off my rocker…I hate parties with a passion) to Elle and Laura (but more like Elle because Laura just stared at her soup the whole time for some reason…) and she just said me getting a good grade wasn't all that rare and worth celebrating. Well, she's off her rocker too.
Okay, then. Don't want to be too obsessed with writing on this (as Elle says), so I'll…be leaving then…for now.
Thursday, December 8th, Girls Dormitory, Late.
I should:
-Do my Charms Essay.
-Not spend my time doodling on parchment that shouldn't be wasted.
-Not spend my time blistering my fingers after writing so much on this diary.
-Do my Transfiguration Revisions Worksheet.
-Not procrastinate.
-Not stalk perfect, attractive Ravenclaws (and, yes, I admit it now, thanks to Elle insisting for over thirty minutes during dinner that I did).
-Talk to Laura (I'm too lazy to do anything at all right now and she seems to be asleep…so….maybe tomorrow?)
-Do something about my tutoring lessons with Scorpius Malfoy before I get in trouble.
-Stop making these lists and just go to bed already.
-Stop being a hypocrite.
-Stop saying I'm a hypocrite because everyone is by nature.
-AH THE IRONY.
-Wait what?
And, I suppose that's it for now. Now, excuse me while I sleep because it is 1 AM and a girl, no matter how insane she is, has to sleep some time.
Friday (YES, FINALLY), December 9th, Girls Dormitory, Very, Very, EXTREMELY Early.
When I go to bed on 1 AM, my brain makes sure to remind me of all the homework I didn't do and force me to stay up the entire night.
You know what? I'm starting to detest my brain more than Mudfloy and that cannot possibly be good.
But, well, anyway, I'm quite sure nobody in their right mind is up yet. So, for now, I'll be as considerate as possible and not make noise under my sheets while Elle and Laura peacefully sleep (unlike me). But, it's kind of hard to write while you're lying down, you know? That's why my handwriting looks like ancient hieroglyphics right now.
Anyway, it's 5:30, I predict. I'll wait until I'm sure it's 6 and then get up and head on over to take a shower and then perhaps do all the homework my brain spent effortless time consistently reminding me to do.
Friday, December 9th, Girls Dormitory, Still very early.
You know what I learnt within the past ten minutes?
I should start paying more attention to my mates.
James is right when he says I'm oblivious (to some degree, that is, I'm not giving him all the credit).
I hadn't a clue what was going on with Laura yesterday and I assumed her moping about during lunch and pretty much every other class onwards was just, you know, ahem time of the month. We all have our bad days, don't we? I mope around 24/7, to be exact. So, it didn't really matter, and I just also assumed it was best I left her alone. Why bother someone who is moping around exactly because they were bothered by someone in the first place? Doesn't make much sense to me, you know. I mean, if I'm gloomy or sad, I don't want people to attempt comforting me because I don't want them to share my stress.
Sigh.
But, all that seemingly okay logic was what caused this. I guarantee it.
Well, anyway, I don't want to talk about it but since I, as Elle says, write 99 %( Still: 98%) of my life over here, I'll just go on and say it.
At 6, according to my plan, I got up. I was about to head down the corridor to the restrooms to take a shower and brush my teeth; the usual, you know, but found that Laura's bed was empty and made which was odd because I was up the whole night and hadn't heard a single sound, or so I thought, inside the room. So, I, as you can probably tell, rushed to the only few places I could think of:
a) The Common Room: I thought she must be down there reading Love is in the air or something, but nope. Surprisingly, she wasn't there. No one was.
b) The empty room beside ours which no one uses: She always goes down there to study or read when The Common Room is filled or she just feels like it, so why on earth not? But, she wasn't there.
c) Lily's room: Even though both are heavy sleepers, they wake up early and so, sometimes, Laura chats with my little cousin because she's the coolest kid I or anyone knows (HUGO, WHY AREN'T YOU LIKE LILY?!) and Lily says she needs help with Muggle Studies so I think Laura helps her with that, plus, Lily's roommate, Kate, is always up early too because I've heard she's a Straight O student and does extra credit work for pretty much any subject you can think of and has to make time to do it. But, nope.
You see, I was concerned about Laura. She just vanished into thin air.
But, then I headed over to the place I originally had in mind; The Restroom. And, yep.
I found her there bent over a sink, bawling her eyes out.
Didn't expect that one, did you? Well, neither did I. Her hair was made into a sloppy bun, a tiny streak of smudged mascara rested below her eyes, on dark circles that I swore were never there before.
I didn't know what to do, comforting crying people hasn't always been my forte, you know, so I just hurried over there and asked her what was going on, very frantically, to be precise. And, she glanced up at me, yes, but just shook her head and continued crying.
A tank top, showing her bare, bony shoulders, was what she had on along with her pajamas. Her hands squeezed the counter and her head sagged down towards the vigorously running faucet.
It broke my heart to see my best mate cry so desperately, with those bright red cheeks, and red rimmed puffy eyes she wore when I first met her. Ugh. Now, I want to punch someone because I'm reminded of Douche Daniel.
So, I just held her and hugged her and told her it was okay(believe me, I had no idea what I was even doing but it sure as hell was not working because she was crying even more with every word I uttered).
Had Elle known about this? She seems to know about almost anything and everything…she did, didn't she? Why didn't she tell me?
Anyway, in that large, enormous Girls Dormitory restroom, Laura cried and cried until I think her body couldn't supply her more water to release. I let go of her by then and with my hands gripped around her cold shoulders, I, as calmly as I could, asked, "What's wrong? Did someone hurt you?"
And, she just shook her head, her sandy brown, messy bangs jumping over her eyes, and whispered with an extremely raspy voice. "Something's going on between Emma and Matthew"
Emma?! Emma, yes, Barbie Lydia's minion in action?
Ugh.
"What? Why?" I said, probably drowning my eyebrows so deep, a crease was going to be marked vividly between them probably for the rest of my Cat-Lady life.
And, that was probably the worse question to ask because that's when her body decided the daily supply of water had arrived yet again, she then croaked, "I don't know, ask him"
"You think he's…no, but, Elle and I saw you and him…well…" I cleared my throat quite loudly here. "…Snogging earlier…it all seemed perfectly fine, what're you talking about?"
She shook her head yet again, but this time, cracking a small, if not microscopic, smirk, "You saw that?"
I smiled back, "Yep. 'Twas pretty intense too"
DING DING DING! TEN THOUSAND POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR BECAUSE ROSE WEASLEY SAID THE RIGHT THING WHILE COMFORTING SOMEONE! YES! FINALLY! (We're so winning the house cup this year by the way, it's not even funny anymore…Curse you Hufflepuff for scoring literally a thousand points by simply kissing up to professors. Hogwarts First World Problems).
She laughed! Yes! I know. She. Flipping. Laughed.
It was quite weird actually, with tiny beads of tears streaming down her cheeks and what not, but I could see those pearly whites and I am damn well sure she was, at the very least, smiling.
After a second or two, she said, her voice turning back to normal again, "She's his partner for O.W.L.S. and he started flirting with her right there when she walked past us on the staircase. At that very moment, I just quickly left and headed to class…he even sat at the Slytherin Table during lunch...and dinner…and probably now as well as we speak….he doesn't like me, Rose, I know it. He just feels obliged to have a girlfriend because we're all teenagers and we're all looking for love and bloody romance in our lives…but…" she paused because she hiccup-ed really hard and then continued. "I actually liked him…"
Oh God. IT'S SO SAD EVEN WRITING THIS RIGHT NOW. Also, I'm amazed I even remember all she said.
"Laura…" I began, I was about to say 'I'm sorry', but I knew I was more than sorry. Sorry is what you say when you bump into someone while strolling down a packed corridor or when you step on someone's foot by accident because you weren't paying attention. Not in this case, no. Instead, I just said the most sincere thing I could say off the top of my mind, "I will beat his sorry arse first thing right now, I promise"
I was hardcore serious but she just burst out laughing.
WHY DO PEOPLE LAUGH WHEN I DON'T WANT THEM TO LAUGH? AND, CRY WHEN I DON'T WANT THEM TO CRY?! Merlin. Life is complicated.
"Beat his sorry arse on your own expense then, I'm out" she said, with both hands in the air. I cracked a smile too even and I put my arm around her and we left that God for saken restroom to itself.
Friday, December 9th, Breakfast.
TIME TO BEAT SOME SORRY ARSE.
Ahem, excuse me; I'm kind of having one of those days where I swear a lot. I'm fifteen, come on! What kind of fifteen year old doesn't swear?!
I just talked to Elle; she was already there having some flakes, but she said she hadn't a single clue about what was going on. I told her I'd tell her the details later because I had to BEAT SOME SORRY ARSE THEN.
Ahem, excuse me…again.
So, I rise from the bench, yes, like a rebellious delinquent with the pointy head of my wand peering out of the invincible wrath of my clenched fists. Yes, indeed, FEAR ME.
Now, I actually feel like a psychopath writing this. Not my original intention, I must admit, but alright. I'll settle with it.
None of it mattered though. In my mind, dramatic orchestra music erupted from the vast depths of hell itself; matching up to the timing of every suave inch I swept forward (in slow motion, of course), the flares of my robes wafted into the air, blown away by a mysterious source of wind. My eyes fixed a cold, solid stare…at the Slytherin Table.
Such a prick. He could've at least proven Laura wrong and sat on his own table. Ugh.
MY BRASS METAL FISTS WERE READY TO LINGER ABOUT HIS PETTY PRETTY BOY FACE…before the Ravenclaw who I had stalked earlier appeared out of flipping nowhere.
It's as if the whole world has united to achieve impeccable timing all of a sudden. Because, I swear Ryan never shows up when I want him to. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if he popped up abruptly while I was inhaling my daily dose of waffles like some sort of pig starving for ages.
My suave strolling came to a reckless halt and as clumsy as I am, I collided against his chest (for that, I cannot complain, actually. Totally fine with it. No problem at all). I was about to yell out, "WHO DARE INTERRUPT ME?!" but soon realized who stood before me.
"Oh…err…sorry, I didn't…sorry, I can't see…err, well I can see, but it's just ahem, it's…I just woke up…so…err my vision is sort of…" And, because I have the vocabulary of a five year old, I made weird zombie-like noises while faking a penguin walk.
Yeah. Remember the points I scored earlier for Gryffindor with Laura? Someone somewhere, possibly a specialist of some sort, is shaking his head in disappointment and banging his head against his work desk, questioning why on earth he ever thought of giving me points. I guarantee it.
In an attempt to ignore probably all the pricks laughing their heads off at me nearby, ahead of me on the Slytherin Table, I, as nonchalantly as I could, taped one hand over my forehead, gently bowing my head. And, then I started brushing my fringe away, pretending to be completely suave about it when inside, not even a five year old with a vocabulary such as mine could comprehend, I was slowly dying.
Elle says she's already dug my grave for me, so for once; I would not delay something for the last minute.
"That's fine, I get it" he said, winking at me. I MELTED AWAY.
Have you seen those eyes? Well, have you? They gaze at you, smiling vividly…and then those, light blue eyes, I swear I could plunge into and swim inside a vast, endless ocean of AWESOMENESS and, yes, I know how cliché that sounds, but when a girl is in love with a Ravenclaw, all sorts of mannerisms can be done but not one could cancel out the epic world of cliché-ness she has inevitably entered.
Plus, brownie points for the fact he ACTUALLY winked at me.
Despite how forgetful I am, that wink would NEVER, ever, and I really mean ever, escape my memory. It's impossible even if it tried to. I'd make sure it stays there chained inside hippocampus, a prisoner or slave, whatever you like to call it, there for all of ETERNITY.
(Note to self: This is the second time you sound like a psychopath, Rose, on the same day. Get your act together before people around you start fearing for their poor, short lives).
"Err…I have to go so…" I glanced at The Slytherin Table urgently.
Yes. I know. Believe it or not, Rose Weasley actually was the first to dismiss herself in a conversation with Ryan Williams. Deal with it.
He shook his head, "Oh, no, it's fine…I just wanted to tell you that I can't go on Tueday for O.W.L.S…"
Wait, what? Why?
"It's because I have quidditch…"
And, that's where everything went back to being slow motion. I glanced at the Slytherin table to have a peak or two at Matthew lurking around Emma, perhaps laughing along with her or showering her with some cheesy compliments of some sort, but I see, or at least I think I see, Mudfloy there instead, eyeing me peculiarly, in a way I've never seen him look at me before, and in that somewhat second, I end up seeing a familiar book secured in his hands.
And, I know better than anyone that that was my Herbology textbook.
Uh-huh.
Yes, I know. I've completely gone bonkers and deserve to be kept away at an asylum, but I am really sure when I say I'm sure, and I am damn well sure that he was holding my Herbology textbook. I mean, what else could it have been?
The parrot green fabric of the book, sprinkled with tiny spots of dust and pineapple juice that I remember once spilling over (It took me next to centuries to wipe the stain off, I swear), it was torn at the rear end of its cover, thin and relatively small compared to my other books…That was it!
It was my Herbology Textbook…in the hands of Scampious Mudfloy.
Friday, December 9th, Still Breakfast.
Despite the rush of Incredible Hulk rage that filled my veins and urged me to obliterate the entire Grand Hall if I didn't strangle Malfoy at that very instant, I actually waited.
Yes, I know.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
I couldn't abandon Ryan, he was talking…how would you feel like when you were explaining yourself for something but the other party was too lost in their own worries to even give a honeybadger, so my eyes fell back on his face in a sort of melodramatic panic and caught only the last few words of his sentence, "…So, Sunday's good, right?"
"Y…yes, of course" I nodded my head furiously (count on me to look like I'm sitting on an electric chair). I frantically tried to get a glimpse of the Slytherin Table meanwhile but now Ryan was directly blocking any view I could get of it, unlike before when he was leaning more towards the side. Ugh.
"Good" I heard him say, but I was ducking my head side to side, trying to see what lay behind him. "Is er something the matter?"
I glanced at him fleetingly and managed to crack a tiny, if not very fake, smile, "No, everything's fine…I have to go, though"
And, that's when I scurried past Ryan without a further moment a due, ready to stomp my way through the Slytherins but before I even got a chance, Matthew was gone, Emma was gone, and so was the newly branded thief, Mudfloy.
Friday, December 9th,Charms.
Ways to muder Scorpius Malfoy
By Rose Weasley.
1) Toss him off the Grand Staircase. Hmmm….sweet, sweet revenge.
2) Toss him off the North Tower.
3) Toss him off the West Tower.
4) Toss him off any tower.
5) Stab him with my lucky quill.
6) Feed him the Garroting Gas potion we learnt about during Potions yesterday.
7) Easy way: Avada Kedavra.
8) Push him down the rumored Quicksand of Death that supposedly resides in the Forbidden Forest. That'll actually make his Mudfloy name more punny than it ever was intended to be.
E: What're you doing now in that diary of yours?
R: Just making a list of the many ways it is possible to murder Scorpius Malfoy, why?
E: Oh bugger, what did he do now?
R: What hasn't he sodding done, Elle?
E: Are you still mad at him about ditching you?
E: Rose?
E: Well, you kind of ditched him too, you know.
E: A reply sometime this century would be nice, please.
R: What? Wait. Sorry, I was adding some things to my list. I haven't read your notes yet.
E:Don't bother, they say nothing.
R: Err…okay?
E:Would you take notes for me? My fingers hurt like hell.
R: I don't recall ever being your house elf, Elle.
E:I'll pay you.
R: Ugh, fine.
E:You're so greedy, tsk tsk.
R: Just to let you know, I was actually copying my notes down for you for free but perhaps not now…
E:Pretty please?
R: Hmm…I'll think about it.
E: Sigh, thanks, mate.
R: What do you think, Elle?
E: About what?
R: How should I kill Scorpius Malfoy?
E: Good God, woman.
Friday, December 9th,Girls Bathroom.
My planning has not been for nothing. Charms went by miraculously quick and now all that's left is for me to murder Malfoy when I head to Transfiguration.
Friday, December 9th, Transfiguration.
"WHERE IS SCORPIUS MALFOY?!"
Nobody messes with a Weasley…ever.
We're loud and violent and insane, sort of like Vikings but not Vikings…?
Oh well.
As I marched my way through the classroom towards Mudfloy's seat where he indeed sat, completely shaken by my hollering just like the rest of the few people who were early for class.
That's when I slammed my hands on his table and bent over, only to glare at him almost nose-to-nose. He stared back at me but rather with curiosity than fear (CURSE YOU MALFOY FOR NOT EVER BEING AFRAID OF ME) whereas Lukas, the bloke who sat next to him, was already inching away on the bench.
"Where is my Herbology textbook?!" I demanded, expecting him to start already ranting on with excuses that would somehow justify his thievery. But, instead he took a deep breath and reached for the peach rucksack perched beside him, running through some things inside before extending out the slim book to me knowingly.
What an arse. Thinking to outrun me in smoothness.
I swallowed hard and breathed, quickly collecting the most precious item on the planet. I continued staring at him with a solid gaze though and then out of nowhere pointed my index finger so close to his eyes, I could've poked them, "Listen, Mudfloy, I would murder you for toying with me and stealing my textbook so that I would get bad marks on my test, but I won't because I actually got an E and I wouldn't waste my time with you anyway"
Ouch. Burn.
And, that's how it's done.
I then proceeded to turn away all elegantly and stroll towards my table, hugging the beautiful textbook I had once lost.
Prat. I knew he was always competitive and all, of course; he wants me to flunk all of my classes and embarrass me in every way possible one can be embarrassed, he's arrogant and thinks he's above everyone else. UGH. I don't want to be too judgmental, but lately, Slytherins have been pissing me off. First Emma and April and then Mudfloy. Who's next? Barbie Lydia? Douche Daniel?
Well, I don't care. Come at me with all your power. But, you have to admit, I shut Scampious up quite well back there.
Friday, December 9th, Still Transfiguration.
Well, everything seems in order. There aren't any doodles or odd messages, even subliminal, hiding around my textbook, so all seems alright, I guess. It seems untouched, I could say; like it was before. Old and with ragged cloth, but I guess these textbooks are decades old. And, I do not exaggerate when I say that. Neville told us he had the same one when he was studying.
Wait, hold on. What is it? Oh bugger. Elle seems to have developed an obsession with note-throwing lately, you see.
E: Did you just do what I think you did?
R: Yes, I'm quite suave, I know. You don't have to tell me.
E: Rose, you're…ugh. Did he say anything? I couldn't hear all too well from here.
R: No, why would he? He was silenced by the severity of my invincible wrath. Lukas Ewell was.
E: Rose…
E: You should hear his side of the story.
R: His side? Didn't I tell you? He was rendered by the severity of my invincible wrath, that was his side of the story.
E: Rose, he didn't steal your textbook.
R: Err…yes he did. Elle, you don't know what's even going on, I was there…I saw him during breakfast, he had it. And, he also had on this weird look on his face.
E: Rose, that's because…well, he didn't steal your textbook.
R: Why are you on his side? You know I'm right.
E: Rose, he was the one who actually found it.
Wait what?
"Miss Weasley?"
Oh crap. Doris. Must. Hide. Notes.
I have obviously been paying attention to whatever you were saying, so don't worry about me here, I'm totally okay…Oh crap. She's not falling for it. Nod, Rose. Nod. Let's hope whatever she said wasn't a question but rather a comment of some sort.
"Miss Weasley, what is the answer?"
And…it was a question. Face meets palm.
"I think…I think…" My eyes swam across the room, crying desperately for help, they found a Malfoy who watched them back patiently.
I felt terrible. I felt like the pit of my stomach would really explode unless I managed to give an answer to the Professor who had higher expectations of me than anyone else in the room. And, I wouldn't ever match them, and she knew that better than anyone.
My head turned back to Doris and I, as calmly as I could, said, "Professor, could you please repeat the question?"
She arched her eyebrows knowingly somehow but slowly nodded her head, "What spell must be cast to perform the Bird-Conjuring charm?"
Err…what?!
This…I don't…
No…no, I can't do it, I thought. I can't. I'm crap, I'm total crap at Transfiguration…must she torment me? Why not just leave me be to my misery?
My mind reeled through ridiculous answers which I knew were nowhere near correct. What did she want from me? Tell her which spell it was?
If this counts as participation marks, then at least have me be willing to participate. I do not ever recall hovering a sign enthusiastically over my head reading, "OOOOH PICK ME!"
Sigh.
My eyes swept across the classroom yet again, scanning for any hint given by a fellow classmate, perhaps even code language or subliminal messages-anything! But, no one dared come to my rescue. In fact, they looked as clueless as I did.
No one…no one knew the answer.
Yet she still asked me! Me of all people! Girl-being-tutored-because-she-flunked. Yes, me!
Oh God.
I was waiting for a Deus ex maxima moment, like someone just yelling out the answer without raising their hand or the bell ringing (bells hate me, remember?) but it never happened.
I had to rely on my own neurons.
Think Latin, Rose. Think Latin. All spells are inspired by Latin.
Bird…Latin…what's the word?
Holy…mother of God!
I read about this-I remember. I read about this, I did…in my textbook. I was doing an essay and I drifted off to the last section for some reason out of sheer curiosity and there was a mention or two of the bird conjuring charm.
"Av…" I began, her face lightened up all of a sudden. Yes! Good! I'm heading the right direction. "Av…" I repeated, waiting for the rest of it to strike me any second.
"Yes, Miss Weasley? Av…?"
Someone coughed in the breathing silence…making it even more painfully awkward for me. Thank you, random person; you're really making my life easier… Someone coughed again.
Never play with Rose Weasley's patience…I looked about to see who it was to glare sharp daggers at them-Malfoy?
Ha. Is he ill now all of a sudden?
Ill…all of a sudden…That doesn't make any sense.
Plus, he's staring right at me like he wants something from me…
Go away, Mudfloy, not now.
Ugh. Stop staring at me…wait, is he staring at me because I'm staring at him? Is that how it works?
Wait, hold on, is he trying to help me?!
He shook his head…whoa, now he coughed again. And, another time.
What is he trying to say?
I shook my head in confusion, lightly however, and squinted my eyes at him. He sighed and tapped his table twice and then coughed shortly after yet another time…and another…
Wait…
"2…?" I mouthed, very discreetly though, making sure my hair covered the side of the face Doris could see.
He nodded his head, but also very discreetly.
Two letters, then?
Sigh.
"Av…Av…" Yes, we get it, move on woman. "Avis?"
If I had gotten it right, I was expecting a mountainous row of applause, perhaps even colourful confetti to go off showering down from the air. But, instead, all I received as a reward was a slight nod of the head by Doris, claiming simple satisfaction, nowhere near pride or appreciation for what I had just miraculously achieved.
Oh well. I guess that'll do too.
"Moving on, Lukas" the bloke who sat next to Malfoy suddenly shot up from his seat, holding his head up high, and puffing his tiny, slim chest, "Yes, Professor?"
I wouldn't be surprised if he curtsied or saluted to her any moment but he didn't, he just received a question-nowhere near as difficult as mine too-and answered it within seconds. The rest of class was going over similar questions on our revisions worksheet which I, of course, had never done.
Friday, December 9th, Still still Transfiguration.
HAVE YOU ANY IDEA OF HOW EPICALLY SCREWED I AM?!
Doris just called out my name, there are two minutes left till this class ends, asking me to meet her after class, yes. But, no, that's not entirely it either. Here's the worse part; She asked for Malfoy too.
The last time this happened, I nearly got expelled. What if…what if…SHE'S EXPELLING ME BECAUSE SHE KNOWS OF THE MALFOY-ROSE CHEATING MILL THAT WAS GOING ON EARLIER?!
OH CRAP.
NOW, THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, THE SITUATION IS WORSE THAN I THOUGHT.
"Rose, you okay?" Elle just asked me a minute ago.
Well, I am hyperventilating internally and biting my lip to the point I am bleeding externally, so what do you think? What do you think I blimey said?! "I'm fine, perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"
Friday, December 9th, Potions.
So, I just went through more different types of emotions in the last 10 minutes than I have in my entire life.
It started out like this; I rose from my seat after class in Transfiguration, the whole class was empty except for one bloke at the back, whose name I cannot remember, struggling to stuff all of his textbooks in his rucksack all at once. Oh and of course, Mudfloy.
I panicked like never before, more than my mind could tolerate even.
You will not be expelled, Rose. Relax. If she even says you will you won't…who made her headmistress anyway? Oh, but she is kind of Deputy Headmistress, so technically headmistress but not a headmistress? Life is complicated.
I headed towards Doris' desk, Malfoy strolled along beside me nonchalantly and I glared at how suave he was. I AM SUAVE, GOD DAMN IT.
And, plus, I was expecting him to be flipping traumatized of my sheer brilliant comeback/burn at him but his face right then? Not even close. The bloke looked like he was having a walk in the park and that the Incredible Hulk, bright red this time protégé beside him was nobody to be actually taken seriously.
Doris made us wait a little while, collecting a folder from the mountain of files on her desk and running through its pages quickly. It came to the point where I thought I should cough or fake sneeze or make literally any sound for her to know we were there, but by then, she decided to look up and glance back and forth between the two of us, studying our faces…possibly detecting any signs of suspiciousness. We had sort of cheated back then and I knew that better than anyone, Doris was not exactly the most flexible of professors.
"Miss Weasley, Mister Malfoy, I trust you bring me good results from your tutoring time together" And, that's when my insides turned upside down.
TUTORING?! THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT?
I was screwed.
Malfoy, that arse. He'd carry away, on and on and on with the list of reasons why I am the worst student ever and that he gives up on being my tutor-worse, he gives up on humanity itself because my sheer crappiness has justified such with great evidence, thank you.
Sigh. It was safe to say, I was more than screwed, considering our tutoring time together was flipping NON-EXISTENT. But, then, something quite peculiar happened. Malfoy butted in and quickly assured her, "Yes, of course, and we will…in the future, as well…"
Err…what?
Oh, okay. You're playing along for now to build up the tension but when the time comes, because lesson in all of this is timing is everything, you'll blurt out your pure hatred for me and how I ratted out on you and that I was fifteen minutes late for our tutoring lesson and that even though I apologized, you still ignored me, the prat you are…Go ahead. Nice save, Mudfloy, but she's not falling for it. The woman has a lie detector machine implanted inside her mind and every hint of a lie she damn well detects in you, the more screwed I am, both of us are, in fact.
I thought it best for me to not say anything-for us to not say anything-before any excuses or lies we'd come up with would bite back at us.
"Good" she nodded her head, unaffected by his answer. She scribbled something across a paper I assumed was a test and put it away on the side where I could see it. Troll, absolutely terrible, please give more thought in what you say, in wonderful, cursive handwriting. I swallowed. That poor person could be me and if it were then I'm sure they'd expel me-if they don't do it now, that is.
"What have you been learning?" her eyes swept back up where she could analyze our every lie.
My mouth opened for some reason and Doris looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something which I did-WHY?! "Well, now…err…we…" I looked by the corner of my eye at Malfoy and hunched down my shoulders, sighing. "We've learnt that punctuality is quite…important"
"Oh?" she poked the frame of her glasses on the centre. "And, how so?"
Malfoy stared at me and then said sincerely, "Misunderstandings, I suppose….but, they're settled already" He sounded like he was talking to me only…chills.
She soothed the wood on her desk back and forth, "Alright then. But, what in Transfiguration have you learnt?" Yet another question of which the answer only Merlin knows.
"We…" I began, drifting off into space.
"Yes?"
"We…" God, why have you given me the vocabulary of a five year old? Why do I repeat every word I know five times before getting to the next one?! WHY?!
"Just the basics, Professor. The various components that account for the execution of a spell…bodyweight, viciousness…just as a reminder though. The difficulty would increase along time…" he explained. Wow. Malfoy, although a qualified member of Arse World, really knows what he's saying.
She smiled (yes, I know, since when does she smile?) and nodded her head, I was waiting for her to ask yet another question but she didn't, instead, she just said, "Alright, good luck, you two. You're dismissed…wouldn't want you to be late for…?"
"Potions" we said at the same time. I breathed and rolled my eyes but…but…I didn't want to. You see, almost every reaction that I have to Malfoy is rolling my eyes or huffing and breathing and growling…but, right now, it didn't seem…right. Like something was wrong with doing that. The knot tied up in my stomach blatantly said so.
I was…wrong.
Friday, December 9th, Still Potions.
Malfoy had already left the classroom, I trudged along behind him, but before I could make it to the door, the sound of Doris' voice stopped me. I spun on my heel.
"Yes, professor?"
"You answered a question only sixth-years, in their second term, could answer, today" she said.
WHAT?!
"What?!"
Yes, for the first time; I said the same thing I thought. Finally.
"Rose, if only you tried, you could work wonders…and you did…and you got it…" she explained, smiling yet again. She must be having a good day or something.
I shook my head in disbelief and she continued, "Your mother was really good at Transfiguration…the best in her class, I've heard"
That made my blood boil for some reason. I have no idea why. I really don't. Until now, I haven't a single clue why that ever happened. It shouldn't have. I should've smiled, agreed, waved goodbye, and pronto, done. But, I didn't, instead, I replied, "But, my mother's perfect"
"That is impossible, I'm sure she has her flaws when you get to know her better" Doris said, clearing her throat. "I do, you do, everyone does…by human nature…Rose?"
"Yes, Professor?" I asked, gazing deep inside her grey eyes, leaning against the door.
"Don't fear your flaws, okay?" she said, with a slight pucker or I guess, frown, on.
Err…what? "…Okay…I suppose…"
And, that was by far the weirdest conversation I've had..with the strictest professor in all of Hogwarts too. Second weirdest. What came next broke the record. Indeed. All in a row.
When I exited the classroom, in the distance, I noticed a figure inching away into the corridor. I gaped at the figure moving away for a while and reconsidered everything that had just happened.
Before I knew it, my feet were pacing forward. Until I think I was actually running. Haven't done that in a while.
Treacherous mouth, treacherous feet…what comes next?
I swear, if anyone tried to hypnotize me, they'd do it within a millisecond, because guess what? I have a treacherous mind too.
"Scorpius!" I called. Yep. By the way, I'm quite sure I said Malfoy(I AM FLIPPING SURE, OKAY?!)but since Elle has been stealing my diary for the past ten minutes into Potions and insists on knowing what happened, this is the result. Writing all over the pages, that is. She even doodled a stick man figure on one knee and a girl standing before him and drew arrows to label each with 'Rose and Scorpius'. I got my quill and scribbled the hell off of…You-Know-Who's name (NOT Voldemort…God), and wrote 'Ryan'. Better, right? Of course. Anyway, I'll get revenge soon. JUST YOU WAIT, HELEN. YOU WAIT.
He turned around, with a look of surprise on his face for some reason as I neared him, gasping for air. When I came to a halt, I bent over only to grip my knees while catching my breath. "Sorry…"
I said that as quickly as possible. I didn't want to see his prick-laughing face while I apologized to him either (this time, actually in person). "…For ditching you and yelling at you…and thanks…for saving my sorry arse from getting expelled…and…and…" I couldn't think of anything else HONESTLY. "Here" I took out my lucky quill, yes, the quill I used to get an E on my Herbology test, O on my Potions, and yet another E on my Charms. It is really lucky; Laura gave it to me one random day and fireworks started sparking for me onwards. But, of course, I had my bad moments…but…it still works.
I extended it out to him, crying inside at how utterly stupid and silly this was.
"Are you literally bribing me with a quill?" he scoffed, yet smiling, so I guess we're good.
"What? I ate all the candy I had. Plus, it's not just a quill, mind your language" I paused and waved about my hands like Professor Trelawney does when she thinks she's predicting someone's mystical future and added, "It's a lucky quill"
He burst out laughing, "Okay, as if that isn't superstitious"
"JUST BLIMEY TAKE IT MUDFLOY BEFORE I TELL DORIS OF YOUR FILTHY LIES!" Indeed. I do have the rage inside me to rule the entire world if I had to. I mean, in first year, I wasn't that wrong to think I'd actually get Slytherin. Ugh. But, the thought of me being in Slytherin, seeing Barbie Lydia and Douche Daniel almost every day and every second of my life and…and...well, it just makes me sick, alright?!
So, yes, Gryffindor is good. Even though I am weak and utterly spineless when it comes down to it, really.
"Okay, okay…" he said, taking it from my dry hands, I imagine were frozen by now because of the cold. "Is this some sort of compensation, Weasley?"
I shook my head furiously, "Just returning you the favour. You lent me a quill, remember?"
"When? I don't lend people quills...I lose them all" he said.
"Exactly" I rolled my eyes. "In first year, I had to lower down my pride so much to ask you of a quill during Transfiguration, and guess what? Even though, you were, still are, of course, a little prick, you, still gave me one! And, I lost it and you blew a fuse over it!" I breathed. "So…not compensation, just returning back the favour. Now, we're even"
He arched his eyebrows, sliding his hands in his pockets, leaning by the pillar, "You remember that?"
"Of course," I answered, sighing a bit tiredly.
He stared at me and then rolled his eyes. "Alright, Weasley" he began. "Apology accepted"
I sighed yet again, "Good" I paused. "Also, where the blimey name of all that is magical did you find that textbook?"
"Actually, quite, unsurprisingly, the Library where finding books isn't all that end-of-the-world-earth-forgetting-to-revolve-around-the-sun mad" he scoffed, smirking at me.
WHAT?! The Library? You've got to be kidding me.
"People lose so many things there, I bet I wouldn't be surprised if I found fifty galleons just laying there…" he said, staring off into space.
"But, where….I mean…I looked pretty much everywhere" I said.
"On a shelf…"
"In the restricted section?"
"Nope. It was there, right before everyone's eyes. You're really oblivious, you know?"
"I'm considering taking my quill back, you know" I glared at him with all my might.
"No, anything but that" he rolled his eyes. Prick. Must he be sarcastic with almost everything?! "And, also, Weasley, I'm quite sure you just called me Scorpius"
Thing is I didn't. I KNOW I DIDN'T. I DIDN'T, OKAY?!
Besides, what's wrong about calling him by his first name, huh? My parents didn't name me Rose so that everyone would just call me Weasley…there's no point or no logic whatsoever in that.
AND, I DIDN'T. Did I already say that? BECAUSE I DIDN'T.
"What?! In your sodding dreams" I said, patting my robes, swiping off invisible dust.
"What, were Scampious and Mudfloy unavailable?"
OKAY. IT'S ON, YOU ARSE.
That's when I stomped on his shoe and stormed off into the corridor, my arms folded as I marched away completely in an unladylike manner. Remind me to never talk or ever come near apologizing to that prat.
"Tutoring tomorrow, be late and I wring your neck and not even your lucky quills will save you!" he called behind me.
"I don't care!"
Friday, December 9th, Dinner.
Yes, I didn't write during lunch. And, yes I am tired and exhausted and simply wanting for this day to just end….but that wasn't what the Gods flunking-give-a-honey badger-about-Rose-class had in mind. Nope.
I didn't write during dinner because I was too busy worrying myself with a recent headline that has catastrophically crashed down like thunder and lightning combined onto Hogwarts! Indeed.
Elle and I have recently learnt through this school's gossip cycle that…Laura's O.W.L.S. partner is…
Wait for it. Wait for it. No, really, wait for it…I'm trying to find some ink in my rucksack before my writing fades.
Ah! There you are!
DOUCHE. FLIPPING. DANIEL.
Yep.
Either he is the worst O.W.L.S. partner to be matched for someone like Laura or I'm just mental.
Both are true, by the way.
ENDING NOTE: This chapter was actually supposed to end at 'Scampious Mudfloy stole my textbook' for it to be cliffhanger-y but I just basically thought 'Meh, might as well continue it' and yeah. Thanks for reading, I know it's long, but it's supposed to be a chapter and I get seriously fed up when I'm reading something and it's 2 lines long...LIKE AUTHOR, BE NICE TO ME AND FEED ME LE FEELS. I'm a fangirl, that's what we do with our lives. You can't blame me. Alright. So, now, I have to do my math study guide thingie as well as a poem criticizing social issues for Portuguese class so...yeah. Hopefully, I don't procrastinate with my schoolwork. But, Chapter 7 won't take this long to publish, I promise(cough cough...ahem...perhaps, maybe, potentially, probably?)
Ciao,
Hazel :D