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By veneficus at The Dark Arts

I own nothing! Except the plot... And sweet Luke.

Ringgggggggggggggg. Ringgggggggggggggg.

Problem thirteen: It’s seven o’clock and I need to get up. 

“Ugh,” I say wisely, immediately fixing the problem. 

“Mphm,” Livi replies, groggily sitting up. 

“Come on! We’ve got to get to breakfast so I can see Harry!” calls Caspar brightly. Harry is her boyfriend -- named after my uncle, of course. 

What the hell? How does she do that? It’s seven, how is she chirpy? 

I swing my legs out of bed and sit up, hunching my shoulders against the sudden cold. 

Groaning, me and Livi get dressed and haphazardly do out hair. We’ll do it by magic anyway soon. 

All the while, Caspar is chatting with cousin Lucy about something mind blowingly boring. Lucy is generally mind blowingly boring. Truly, she is Uncle Percy’s daughter through and through. God knows how Uncle Percy found a girl – never mind one that he a) married and b) had kids with. 

Who knew he knew his way around a woman? 

Argh – mental pictures! Mental pictures!

“Alrighty, I’m ready to go!” I declare, shoving my foot into a shoe and waving my wand at my robes, making them fall nicely on my body. 

“Finally!” huffed Lucy, “You’d think you two had been up all night, the way you carry on!” 

“Huh,” said Livi, swishing her hair around to give it some body, “You would, would you?” 

“Why yes!” Lucy actually speaks like this. It’s very, very annoying. “And last night I know you were all in bed asleep by nine, like me!” 

“Uh huh. Well, Lucy, run along now, I need to do something.” 

Lucy is the year below us, filling the Weasley gap between me and Albus and Hugo, Cousin Louis and Lily. James, having already left school two years ahead of us, still thinks Lucy’s the funniest person to wind up, ever. I’m inclined to agree. Dominique the lovely cousin is a year ahead of me, (and is now touring with her band) and Victoire is a year above James. Then there’s little Molly, who’s proving to be the rebel in the Percy Weasley family by being a bit like me and adoring Livi, Fred who’s in my year and Roxanne in the year below. 

Blimey, the Weasley family gets around a bit. 

Lucy smiles sweetly and leaves, still obeying her elders. 

“Sweet balls of Dumbledore, what is wrong with that child?” I ask to Caspar, picking up my bag. She shrugs and starts to walk downstairs, passing all the younger girls dorms. 

“Maybe she has a lack of love in her life,” suggests Livi, who is slowly waking up. I march out of the common room. 

“She has a lack of a life!” I shake my head sadly, stepping quickly on a set of stairs that are beginning to move. Caspar makes it, but Livi has to jump, tumbling wildly through the air until she hits the hard stone. I applaud her, whooping as she stands up and takes a bow. 

“You guys are complete nut cases,” Hugo says from behind me. 

“Hello, brother of mine,” I sing, “I didn’t see you there!” 

“Evidently,” he says as I throw my arms round him, “What have you been eating? Did you go flying again?” 

“Might have done,” I say innocently. Hugo sighs. He’s the mature one out of us two. 

“Caspar, you could at least try to stop her,” he moans, “Now she’ll do something ridiculous!” 

“Will not! I’m wonder girl and I don’t do anything wrong!” 

“It’s hard to believe how quickly she changes,” Livi remarks, “Just now she was all ‘Lucy sucks and I’m tired’ and now she’s all... Chirpy.” 

“I know,” Hugo continued the train of let’s-comment-on-Rose, “And she almost slapped me yesterday.” 

“I did what now?” I ask. I don’t remember slapping Hugo! 

“When we were in the car? You and Livi fighting over lip gloss? You made a point, flapped your hands about, and bam!” 

“Oh. Right. Sorry Hugh!” 

The stairs stop moving, and we continue along our journey to breakfast. 

“So, what happened with Marius that Lily can’t stop telling me about, exactly? All I’ve got out of her is that you had some kind of personality change,” Hugo raises. 

“I don’t know,” I wail, “One moment I was safe, then he arrives, gets angry at me because I was winding him up, gets angry at Albus for being male and in my vicinity, then he drags me off to see Scorp and ask how he did, then he’s apologising, then I’m talking to him for hours in my compartment!” 

“Wow. So, when does the personality change happen?” Hugo is obviously bothered by this. I’m bothered by this! 

“About when he dragged me off to see Scorp. I blame Scorp. It was obviously him. Did you see the hex we put on him? We created that one.” I’m waffling. Can you blame me? It’s all been freaky on seven levels. 

“Yes, it was good. Teach me sometime?” 

I look at Hugo shrewdly. “Why?” 

“I want to use it... I just want it, okay?” 


We’re at the Great Hall now, and Hugo goes off to sit with his friends. I’ll admit it, Hugo’s got good friends. 

There’s pretty Leon, who has almost every girl in his year wrapped around his little finger, musician Fergus who uses his guitar more than his quill, and once presented Professor Chang a love song, and hot Nathan, who has every girl around, even the older girls, who love him as a toy boy. He’s mature, and smooth. 

Shame Scorpius isn’t like that. 

If there was a list of boys that had the seventh years wrapped around them constantly, it would be Scorpius, hot Nathan and sweet Luke. Sweet Luke is a Gryffindor in seventh year, my year, and is just... Heart melting. He’s got olive toned skin without a single blemish, inky black hair that hangs in gentle waves, rose coloured lips and good manners. He’s almost perfect. 

Except I don’t want perfect. I want Scorp. 

“Rose, are you even listening to me? I said, you need to eat, or you won’t have enough strength for Quidditch!” Livi is talking. I can hear her. I can also hear Caspar and Harry snogging behind me... Ugh. 

“Quidditch?” I ask her, and she sighs, frustrated. 

“Yes, Rose, Quidditch! We have to go to trials!” 

“But... why?” I’m on the team already. Why do I need to be there? 

“Because if you were paying any attention, you would have noticed the Quidditch team was disbanded and a new captain made!” 

“Who?” I ask Livi, who suddenly goes dreamy-eyed. 

“Sweet Luke,” she says happily, “And we are going to get on that team, no matter what!” 

Livi is a beater – small and light, but very strong. I, on the other hand, am a chaser. Caspar is keeper. We are almost a team – add a beater, a seeker and perhaps another chaser or two, just to level things out. Caspar and Harry break apart. 

“You guys might notice that if you keep making those eyes, you won’t concentrate on Quidditch and therefore suck,” announces Caspar, “Which is why I’m guaranteed a spot on the team. I don’t drool over him. And besides, Sweet Luke keeps attracting more girls to the sport. A lot of them have been training over the summer, so you’re all out of business now.” 

“Why us? Why not you?” I moaned, spearing some bacon. 

“Mainly you, Rose! Because Sweet Luke is most likely to look at his Chasers. He won’t even be facing his Keeper, and Beater isn’t feminine enough for most girls,” Caspar declared, smirking. 

“Shut up,” Livi grumbled, “You’re killing the buzz.” 

“I second that,” I chipped in, wrapping my bacon in a crusty roll and jamming it into my mouth. 

Caspar made a face at us... More specifically me. “How can you eat like that? Do you know how bad that is – all fat and carbohydrate, no fibre or vitamins?” 

“Shuddup,” I said around my mouthful, chewing and swallowing rapidly. “It’s good food.” 

“It’s not! Do you even read Witch Weekly?” 

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’. “Not really. Bits about fashion, a bit about love, a story now and then – Why?” 

“Because if you had been reading, you’d have noticed it’s terrible to your health to eat like that – and that, Olivia, is too much syrup!” 

“Jeez Cass,” Livi mumbles, chewing her maple-syrup drained pancakes, “Lighten up! This is food that brightens my day.” 


“Eat fat and die, Caspar!” I yell, and the hall goes unceremoniously quiet. “I... Uh... Yeah. What were you saying about Quidditch?” 

Caspar refuses to save me. “Your face is all red,” she comments, “Do you want me to fix that?” 

I boggle at her. “You can do that?” 

How come I didn’t know about this? 

“Yeah. Well, I can shift the blush so it doesn’t bother you so much.” 

“Done and done. Sift it, Caspar!” 

“Do you mean shift it?” 

“That too.” 

Caspar fixes me with her piercing blue eyes, pushing her blonde curls out of her face. Pointing her wand directly at my face, she does a strange little flick, and then pauses.
“Where do you want it to go?” 

“Um... My thighs?” 

“Alrighty! Cerasinus mobil.” 

I feel a burning sensation, and then my face cools. The back of my thighs, on the other hand, seem to be hotter than Scorpius’ bum. 

“How do I look?” I ask anxiously, praying Caspar hasn’t moved my nose too or something like it – it’s been known to happen. 

Livi glances up from her pancakes in syrup soup for a moment. “Normal. Why?” 

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” 

Livi gives me a strange look, drinks a spoonful of syrup, and then stands up. “Timetables and shit!” 

“Chang’s coming, Livi. Chill, for once, you bookaholic freak.” That’s rich, from Caspar. I say so and Livi laughs, while Cass gives me the stink eye. 

“Miss Grey, is that a necessary amount of syrup?” 

It’s Professor Chang. Ah, I missed her. She’s kind of short and pretty, in that weird I-can’t-believe-my-uncle-kissed-you way. Most of the boys base their fantasies around her. Poor her – most of the boys are losers. 

Livi gives miss the doe eyes until she’s forced to hand over the timetable without a rant. Then, miracle of miracles, she hands Caspar and I our timetables, and leaves.
“What just happened?” I think I’m gaping. 

“She got a boyfriend over the summer – didn’t you hear?” How does Caspar know this stuff? 

“Oh, well, she did!” 

Livi groans. “Herbology first – you guys?” 

“Same!” I grin at Livi, who pulls a mock disgusted face. We look at Caspar. 

“Nope. Arithmancy.” 

“Oh, skulls and bludgers!” 

“Cliff hucker!” 

This is us swearing – Muggle words don’t work well for us, but nonsense does. 

“Damn it, why can’t you guys be smarter?” Caspar asks us. It’s not that we’re dumb – she knows this. We just don’t feel we need Arithmancy for our job. We’re a band, us three. And we’ll make it. No, I’m kidding. I’m the only one who is musical in the freaking slightest. 

“Come on, floozy named Rose! We need to feel up a good plant!” 

Jesus Christ – maybe the band is a good idea. 

R and R, please?

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