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“There is no way in hell.



“Al. She lives here, too. If she wants the room to be green, the room is going to be green.”



“What about me?! Don’t I have a bloody say in this? It’s my room!”



“But it’s my house. When you move out, you can do whatever you’d like with your room – granted Adele agrees, of course – but as of right now, she wants it to be green, it’s going to be green.”



I love my mother-in-law.



See? I can even say that without cringing, grimacing, or bursting out into tears! Ginny Potter is the most amazing person ever.



Al’s face was covered with disgust and anger. “She can paint half of the room green. The other half stays red.”



“You have a glass wall, Albus. That leaves three available walls,” Mr. Potter commented lightly as he flipped through the newspaper. “And it’ll look stupid if you have a wall that’s half-green and half-red.”



Have I mentioned I love my father-in-law, too? Yeah, I do. I pretty much adore this whole family, actually. Even James. After I made him spend the whole day in a painfully embarrassing dress (and I made him go shopping with me, too. It was priceless) and he didn’t even bat an eyelash, I decided that he wasn’t that bad. I basically love Potters in general.



Except, you know, Al. He holds a special place in my heart, that dearest husband of mine. It’s a spot labeled ‘BIGGEST GIT ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH’. My place in his heart is labeled something along the lines of ‘HEINOUS BITCH’.



We’re so in love it’s almost sickening.



“Fine. She can paint one wall green. That’s it. One.” Al sat down and glowered at me, his arms crossed angrily over his chest.



I grinned. “The one behind the bed.”



“No,” he said promptly.



My eyes narrowed. “It’s that or I paint two walls green. Your pick.”



His face twitched with convulsions of anger as he held back his strong urge to lunge at me and throttle me until I turn blue. “Fine,” he spat out.



“Great!” I said happily, “Can I call Rose over so she can help me paint?”



“I’m calling Scorp over, too,” Al cut in hurriedly.



“Of course you can, love,” Harry said warmly, looking up to smile at me. “If you need anything, just let me know.”



“Thanks, Harry!” I said excitedly, zooming around the table to kiss him on the cheek. He chuckled and patted my hair. And then one of his fingers got stuck in a curl.



Well, that was nice while it lasted.






“I thought you didn’t like Slytherin Green,” Rose said to me as we stood in the middle of Al’s empty room, the newspaper crinkling underneath our toes.



“Oh, I don’t,” I said nonchalantly, pulling my hair up into a ponytail and kneeling on the ground so that I could pry open the cans, “I just thought it would annoy Al the most.”



Rose rolled her eyes, “That’s sweet of you.”



“Isn’t it?” I looked up to shoot her a grin, and she rolled her eyes again, pushing a couple strands of her mahogany hair out of her face and back into the messy bun at the back of her head.



“I didn’t even know you liked painting anything other than a canvas,” Rose said, after I had opened up the can and poured some of the beautifully silky emerald green onto a tray.



“I actually don’t like it, but I just wanted to see Al and my brother struggle to carry everything into another room.”



Can you believe we live in a muggle neighborhood?! It’s brilliant! They can’t use magic at all! They literally had to carry everything! I think they’re still in the other room, struggling to fit everything.



A loud crashing sound and two exclamations of ‘FUCK!’ told me that my guess was correct.



“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a devious little bitch?” Rose ventured after she was done giggling at the noises of anger coming from next door.



“Yes, actually,” I said brightly, “though I can’t imagine why.”



I wiped my green fingers on my shorts, then pulled them down a little. These things are from when I was thirteen and didn’t have an arse. Now it’s so tight I’m pretty sure part of my arse is hanging out. In my defense, though, Rose’s choice in clothing isn’t any better.



We look like prostitutes.



Whatever, we’re painting a bloody room in the middle of the summer. No one cares.



“Mind if I take off my shirt?” Rose said as she eyed the dark green apprehensively, “I kind of want to wear it again, even if it is old.”



“I’ll try to keep my sex-craved hands away from you.” I rolled my eyes. “Rose, you idiot – I couldn’t care less.”



“Well, I was just making sure, in case it made the little old prude uncomfortable,” Rose stuck her tongue out at me and pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it on the ground.



My mouth dropped open in indignation, “Oi, I’m not a prude!”



Rose smirked at me.



I narrowed my eyes at her.






Just to prove my point, I pulled off my shirt and threw it on the ground as well. “Now who’s the prude?” I stuck my tongue out at her, and she clutched her face dramatically. “AUGH! My eyes! My eyes! They burn!”



Oh, she did not just go there.



I grabbed a paintbrush pull of paint and flicked it at her, grinning happily as it spattered across her stomach. She let go of her eyes and looked down at it, then back up at me in disgust.



“I’ll get you back for that.”



Three seconds later, I had a long paint splatter going from the top of my stomach to the back of my calf.



“You little bitch!” I swiped paint on her forehead. She dabbed some on my cheek. Just as I was about to go at her hair with a paintbrush held aloft, she grabbed my arm.



“Not that this isn’t tons of fun or anything…but we’re going to waste all of it,” Rose pointed out.



Damn logical bint.



I sighed reluctantly. “Fine. Let’s do this shit.”



Facing the now-blank wall (I had sneakily done it overnight so none of the muggles could see – you know, just in case someone wandered into the Potters’ backyard or something), I dipped my rolly-brush in the paint and rolled on a long, thick line of paint. It gleamed on the wall, and as I stepped back, a happy little smile unfurled over my face. This is actually pretty fucking brilliant.



Rose stepped up next to me and added her one line of green, looking just as content.



“Pretty relaxing, huh?” she said, admiring the way the dark green contrasted with the wall. I took a deep breath.



“You have no idea,” I said quietly. And we set to work.



I’d completely forgotten, in my quest to become the bitchiest wife imaginable, how much I loved being peaceful. Painting was like that – smooth, rhythmic, flowing – it made me feel like I was a column of water, constantly moving in a steady beat. And something about it just made me feel incredibly relaxed and energized.



It was like my own personal brand of yoga and tai-chi, all blended together.



And I loved it.



Then again, this is my life we’re in the middle of, so it’s pretty obvious that – good things? Yeah, they don’t last. I think the gods are actually having some sort of sick, convoluted contest up there: Who Can Make Adele’s Life More Miserable. It’s a raging, fierce battle, as everyone with half-a-brain-cell can see. And they’re all bloody winning.



I bet they’re having tons of fun up there, cackling like the devious Adele-haters that they are.






I leaned up on my toes in order to get at the upper half of the wall, stretching myself to my ridiculously tall height and trying to make sure that I didn’t get paint on my bare skin.



I should have gotten a ladder, damn it. Just as I was contemplating putting on my shirt so I could go and get one of the useless twits (Al, Scorp or James) to bring me a ladder, the door swung open and a pair of feet crinkled on the newspaper.



“Oi you two, in case you need anything done, don’t bother – holy fuck.”



I froze, my arm stuck in the middle of a stroke.



Rose turned around. “Oh hey, Al!” she said cheerfully. “What’s up?”






“Uh…” he began, his voice sounding strangled.






“I was, er –”












“Er, why are you, uh…”






“…look, could you, uh…”






“Al, you want to get out a full sentence sometime in this century?” Rose asked exasperatedly. “And Adele, for Merlin’s sake, you’re going to let that roller get stuck to the paint on the wall if you don’t move away,” she added.



I blushed and stepped away from the wall, refusing to turn around.



“Mate, what’s going – whoa.” Scorpius’ awed voice stopped short, and I had the distinct notion he was in the process of thoroughly checking Rose out.



“Stop shagging her with your eyes, you perv!” I barked, still facing the wall.



“How does she do that?” Scorpius muttered to no one in particular.



I smirked to myself. I’m such a win.



“Why’re you talking to the wall like a freak?” Scorpius said to me, intent on getting me back for my correct observations of win.



You know how every girl has that one really embarrassing bra that she got on a dare/bet because she’d honestly never buy something that scandalous? You know, the bra that’s made out of black lace and pushes your boobs halfway to your chin?



Yeah, that’s the one I was currently wearing.



Bloody fantastic, I know.



“Because I’m not wearing a shirt, brother dearest,” I spat, crossing my arms.



Scorp snorted. “Adele, this room has me – and I’ve seen you completely naked as a baby, so it’s not a big deal – Weasley, and your husband. You can stop being such a prude.”



He used the H-word! He bloody used it!



And he called me a prude! Well, just because I have a sense of pride and virtue and don’t go around flashing my bits at every bloke who passes me on the street doesn’t mean – !



Once again, I’ve started sounding like my grandmother. This is humiliating, even to myself.



I turned around ferociously, a dark glare spread over my face. “I am not a prude!”



Scorpius seemed pleased with himself, until he saw what I was – or rather, wasn’t – wearing. Then he turned an angry shade of red and shot a dark look at Al, who looked sort of dazed as he stared unabashedly. Holy hell, this is embarrassing.



“You whore!” Scorp squeaked, pointing a trembling finger at me.



My eyes narrowed.



“So, let me get this straight: two seconds ago I was a prude, and now I’m a whore.” I summed flatly.



“Yes! Put some bloody clothes on, you – you – prostitute!”



My brother is such a gormless prat.



“You’re such a gormless prat, Malfoy,” Rose said in a bored voice, creepily voicing the exact thought running through my mind. Weird.



“I’ll show you gormless prat, Weasl – leeeeeeeeeeeee,” his words trailed off in a longing sigh as he assaulted her chest with his eyes. He was practically drooling.



“Oh my god, I’m not related to him,” I said weakly, staring at Scorpius in disbelief.



“Er,” Al cleared his throat, “you have, uh, paint…on your…cheek.”



I looked at him to see that he was addressing the ceiling with a fiercely determined look on his face. Weirdo.



“Yeah, I know.” I put my hand on my face and rubbed at it, “It’ll probably come off with a bit of water. Hopefully. Is it all over my face?”



“Your – huh?” Al’s eyes dropped down to just my face, and his face turned bright pink. “Oh…right. Your cheek. Yeah, you have paint on your face…cheek.”






I gave him an odd look, but he was back to watching the ceiling as though there was something incredibly interesting written across it in bright, bold letters.



I checked, just to make sure. Nope, still white and boring.



“Okay,” I said slowly, chancing a look at Rose and Scorpius. They seemed to be having some sort of a staring contest. “I’m…er…just going to wash my face off, then. In the, you know, bathroom.”



Al nodded, his eyes still on that spot on the ceiling, “Yeah. I’ll wait here.”



“Trust me, that wasn’t an invitation for you to come.”



He didn’t respond, so I turned around and quickly walked into the bathroom, shutting it behind me and looking into the mirror. My normally pale face was flushed with a glow of pink from my embarrassment, and my curly hair was falling out of the ponytail I had messily tied at the back of my head. A dark green smudge that started at the corner of my mouth and went up to the top of my ear was slightly smeared, and I still had paint down my stomach.



In short, I looked like a mess. No wonder the kid can’t even bring himself to look at me. I wouldn’t want to, either.



I sighed and prodded the hipbone that jutted out right over where my denim shorts sat. I’m absolutely curveless. Yeah, I may have my mom’s set of decent-sized boobs, but…hips? Yeah, right.



I thought Malfoys were supposed to be beautiful. This is so not fair.



Wearing a resigned, embittered grimace, I turned on the tap and quickly rubbed off the green as best as I could, leaving behind a red mark on my face which probably wouldn’t fade for about three hours. I decided I’d have to just shower to take off the rest of the green, so I left it as it was and leaned over to wipe my face on a towel – and my eye caught on something.



Holy shit.



I turned around and craned my neck so I could look over my shoulder at the mirror, then cursed again under my breath.



I had green paint on my arse-cheek.



My cheek.



Bloody hell.






“I swear he ogled my arse!” I hissed to Rose as we made our finishing touches on the wall three hours later. I had to listen to her long, endless rant on my brother (as if I haven’t had to deal with the bloke for seventeen years already – yes, Rose, I’m quite aware that his eyes are gray, thank you very much), and then decided that it was my turn to angrily proclaim just how awkward and pervy her stupid cousin was.



“Well…it is hanging out of your shorts,” Rose pointed out, “and well, he’s your husband…so it’s allowed.”



I let out an angry squeaking noise, too appalled to form words.



“In fact, shouldn’t you be glad he checked you out?” Rose went on, thoroughly getting worked up and all comfortable with the idea. “Then at least you know he’s interested in you! And your marriage isn’t going to be completely loveless or anything.”



I looked at her. “And I suppose you were dead to the world when we had an argument loud enough to echo around the whole house yesterday?”



“Yeah, I heard everything,” her eyes sparkled mischievously, “you two sure are…passionate.”



“Ew, Rose!” I exclaimed, wrinkling my nose at her, then letting out a retching sound when she winked and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.



“And, well…Eric was right. You know what they say about fiery couples.”



“Rose, that’s disgusting!”



“And well, objectively speaking, Al looks great. He’s practically my sibling and I love him to bits, but you have to admit I have a really hot cousin.”



“I’m not even going to comment on that.”



Rose’s grin was threatening to overcome her face. “So you agree with me, then?”



“Absolutely not.”



She gave me a skeptical look.



“Fine,” I muttered grudgingly, “he’s gorgeous.”



“Ha!” Rose exclaimed in triumph, waving her paintbrush at me. I rolled my eyes.



“It’s just an observation, Rose. Doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted.



“And you two are completely perfect for each other!” she started gushing, completely disregarding everything that came out of my mouth.



Excuse me?”



“Your personalities just…click. You’re both so sarcastic, the only other person that can really balance it out is, well…the other person, you know?” she rambled.



Not particularly.”



“And I really think he can keep your psychotic tendencies in check. And you can keep his psycho tendencies in check, too, as we all saw yesterday. With him, it’s like you just know what to do – what’s right to do. You haven’t even known him for that long, and you’re already so brilliant at it.”



My mouth opened and closed, making me look like a surprised, speechless fish.



“And you two look great together, too! He’s tall and broad-shouldered and muscley –”



“Rose,” I said flatly, trying to get her to shut up.



“ – and you’re also really tall, kind of like a model. Plus you’re also pretty skinny, but you have an arse and boobs, so that makes the scrawny-ness okay, really –”






“ – and your blonde hair just…goes with his dark hair. Plus your skin is so light and pretty – you look like a fragile porcelain doll, and he sets you off perfectly because he’s so completely the opposite of that –”






“ – and he doesn’t like, tower over you or anything. You two just look perfect together –”






 “ – plus you’re both so gorgeous. I can’t wait to see what the kids look like!”



Bloody hell, Rose!”



She blinked owlishly at me. “What?”



“Shut up!”



She huffed and sent me a disapproving look. Shaking my head to myself, I went back to the white patch of wall in the corner. Merlin, she’s insane. Me and Potter are not compatible. There’s nothing about the two of us that matches, or ‘clicks’ or goes together. We’re complete opposites, and all we do is push each other the wrong way. He brings out the worst in me, and I probably do the same for him.



He makes me want to scream and yell and pull my hair out in pure frustration. Everything about him to me is just so irritating, and half the time I want to punch something when I’m trying to have a conversation with the kid.



He makes me want to go violent in the worst ways. I see red when he smirks that insufferable smirk at me, and his snide comments are the reason my blood pressure rises like a balloon.



Al Potter irks me. He makes me rankle.






By dinner time, we were completely done. Sure, I might have shot a couple of surreptitious spells at the wall to make it dry faster. And, yeah, maybe those silver splatters were also done with a quick flick, but – the curtains were firmly closed! No one saw a thing!



And I really was quite sick and tired of the whole bloody ordeal. Honestly, the things I do to annoy Al Potter…



Me and Rose stood off to the side with proud smirks on our faces and our shirts properly on as Al and Scorpius staggered through the door with his furniture. Both of their shirts were drenched as they lugged the bed back into the room. They were doing it in pieces, but apparently, their weak bodies couldn’t even handle a couple pieces of wood.






“You could have helped, you know,” Al panted, shooting me a brief glare as he bent over with his hands on his knees. He and Scorpius had just finished hauling in and putting together his massive bed and were both gasping for breath. I don’t think it helped that it was summer and we had the glass door open so the smell of paint could waft out.



I rolled my eyes as Rose gave me a disapproving look in accordance with Al and left the room with Scorpius to go and get lamps.



“Well, I could have,” I replied lazily, settling down happily into one of the chairs by the Wiz-Telly. “But I enjoyed it so much.”



At that, he pulled off his sweaty shirt, rolled it into a sopping ball and threw it right at me. I squealed and fell backwards as it slapped against my face, smelling like sweat and grossness.



“Ew!” I yelled, jumping up and pushing the shirt onto the floor. “That’s disgusting, Al!”



“Yes, but I enjoyed it so much,” he replied smugly.






“Let’s see how you like it,” I muttered under my breath, stalking towards him angrily. Then – and I swear I don’t know what possessed me to do it – I pulled off my shirt as though it was perfectly acceptable for females to do something like that in front of other people and pulled it over his head, letting it settle on his neck and hoping that it was smothering him.



“Ack! Get it off!” he sputtered, stumbling backwards and trying to pull it off. But I kept my hands at the hem, making sure that he didn’t pull it over his head. Take that, Potter!



“Adele, I can’t breathe!” he said frantically, his mouth sounding muffled against the fabric. So I pulled one of the arm-holes to the front so that he could stick his nose out. One green eye glared angrily at me, and I laughed.



“Give up?” I asked smugly.



He grabbed my arms and tried pulling them away from the shirt. “Never.”



Then he was pushing my arms away and I was holding on tightly, pulling myself closer so I could win, and then we were both laughing, and his green eyes were sparkling with what looked a lot like amusement and humor – and then his rough, warm hands were at the bare skin of my stomach, tickling me (cheating, too) and I was trying to get away while still holding on to the shirt and giggling like a loon.



It was…it was…fun.



And then, somehow, impossibly, I was flat on my back on the bed and he was on top of me and the shirt was forgotten on the floor, ripped in half.



All of a sudden, I was too aware of everything, as if it all just came rushing back to me in a wave. I could feel one of his hands burning the skin of my waist while the other pressed against the bed by my knee, and his stomach, his chest, burning against mine, and his eyes burning holes into my face…and everything was burning hot and fifty times stronger and just…






I stared at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down, then, gradually, tentatively, raised my eyes to look at his. They were hazy green fire, and I couldn’t think anymore.



Almost too slowly, his palm moved up from my knee all the way to my hip, his calloused hand leaving a trail of fire on my skin. Then the fire was skimming up the side of my body, over my arm, up my neck, and to a blonde curl fallen across my cheek. His hand brushed across my cheekbone and he tucked the strand behind my ear.



I stared at the green and felt the fire, and something like…want pooled in my stomach. Something like lust.



I gulped. What’s happening?



He moved his palm flat against the side of my neck, his expression a thousand miles away. I could feel my pulse pounding away against his hand, and I somehow knew he could feel it, too. As though by a chain reaction, his heart pumped louder and harder against mine. I couldn’t tell the difference between his pulse and mine anymore.



I hate this boy. I hate him. So why am I feeling this way? Why do I want him to kiss me right now? This doesn’t make any sense, but…I couldn’t pull myself away from the expression in those eyes. Something about this moment was magnetic.



He was leaning forward and anticipation curled in the pit of my stomach as our noses lightly brushed–



“Holy fucking shit!”



And then I blinked and he was on the other side of the bed, and the blanket had been pushed up to my chin.



I gaped for a couple of seconds – was that…



No. It couldn’t have been just my imagination.



But everything about it was so surreal.



I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts and sat up to see that Lily was standing at the doorway, her mouth hanging halfway to her knees. I glanced nervously at Al, who was sitting against the headboard, his eyes closed. He would have passed for asleep if his hand wasn’t curled into a fist around the blanket. I looked back at Lily, deciding that Al was too confusing to even glance at right now.



“Lily, you look like a blithering fool,” I informed her flatly. She snapped her mouth shut and glared half-heartedly at me.



“Neither of you are wearing a shirt,” Lily shot back.



I decided not to answer that one.



“And yours is ripped and on the floor – honestly, if you two are shagging, it’s okay. It’s not like you have to hide it or anything; you are married,” Lily said, rolling her eyes.



“We’re not shagging,” I said calmly. “Or snogging,” I added when she opened her mouth.



She crossed her arms. “I’m not stupid. He was on top of you on his bed and neither of you have clothing on.”



I blushed.



“It’s not like that,” I mumbled.



She looked skeptical. “Yeah? Then what is it like, exactly?”



“We got into another fight?” I tried.



She gave me a stony look.



“We did, honest! And then it turned into some sort of shirt-smothering contest, and…I don’t know,” I trailed off pathetically.



Lily opened her mouth to be annoying again, when Al’s voice cut her off.



“Lily. Forget it,” he said strongly, his voice level and calm, a complete opposite of my flustering embarrassment.



“Um, not likel –”



“You’re going to forget it,” he reiterated flatly, “Otherwise I’m telling James I caught you shagging your boyfriend in your room.”



Her mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t shagging him! We were just –”



“Yeah, but who’s James going to believe – you or me?” he asked.



Damn, this boy puts Slytherins to shame.



Lily glared at him. “Arse,” she said huffily. “Fine, I won’t say anything about it. But I know that you two really, really want each other, no matter how much you try to deny it.”



I opened my mouth to vehemently protest, but she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and pranced out of the door. I sat up slowly, holding the blanket up to my chest. I was watching Al warily. He looked bored and indifferent to everything.



“That never happened,” I said quietly.



His eyes moved over to mine. “What never happened?” he asked innocently. He shot me a carefree, devious grin and pushed himself off of the bed, disappearing into the closet and emerging two seconds later with what looked like a shirt. He threw it to me, and I unfolded it to see that he’d managed to figure out which female clothes were appropriate to wear for hot weather.



Letting out a brief smile, I pulled it over my head and retied my hair, getting off the bed and picking up my destroyed shirt on the floor.



I turned around. “You know where Rose and Scorpius went?”



“Probably snogging next door,” he said nonchalantly.



I made a face. Lovely.



“I’ll walk in on them and make everything embarrassing,” I said brightly. “Meanwhile you go shower, you stink like a wet dog.”



“Thanks, bitch.” He said.



I grinned. “You’re welcome, arsehole.”




soo..this time i updated faster! and OMGWHATTT?! the moment! who enjoyed the moment?! i enjoyed writing the moment. as a result, i wrote a lot more moments. now i can't stop :D it's very fun.

the queue is short, so i won't take forever but PLEASE REVIEW!!

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