Four a.m.

Four bloody a.m.

“Good, you’re awake. I want you in the office, now. You’ve got to get ready for today.”

I can tell you this much – hearing Malfoy’s annoying voice first thing in the morning is not my idea of a good morning.

“Malfoy,” I croaked, looking blearily at my clock. “It’s four a.m.”

“Brilliant deduction,” He replied. “Be here in fifteen minutes. I want a large coffee today.”

I didn’t even bother hanging up the phone as I smothered my face in my pillow and let out a loud scream.

Malfoy chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, Weasley.”

“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I yelled into the receiver.

“Healing School, Weasley,” He reminded me in a cocky drawl, hanging up the phone. Letting out another short, frustrated scream, I plopped my face into my pillow again.



He’s sleeping. He’s bloody asleep.

I fumed silently for a couple of minutes as I stood over Malfoy’s desk, which he was currently slumped over, snoring like there was no tomorrow.

Sure, the git can wake me up at four-fucking-am, but he can sleep as much as he wants.

Yeah, hell no.

“GOOD MORNING, MR. MALFOY!” I said loudly.

“Huh? Whoozat?” He asked groggily, springing up and looking around in sleepy bewilderment. His eyes focused on my smirking face, and immediately grew more alert.

“Took you long enough,” He said promptly, taking his coffee from my hand and sipping it. “There’s not enough sugar.”

My teeth gritted in exasperation, I switched his with mine. He took another sip, nodding. “Much better.”


I stalked out of the room, my hand clawlike around the coffee cup and the other one curled up in a fist.

I must control my crazy violent nature. Control, Rose. Think happy thoughts. Yoga. Bunnies. Rainbows. Unicorns. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

“By the way, you have an appointment at the beauty parlor in ten minutes.”

My eyes flew open. Malfoy was standing in front of my desk, looking thoroughly amused by my deep breathing antics. I honestly could not see what was so funny about them – they were obviously the only thing keeping him alive. “Come again?” I asked blankly.

“Beauty parlor. Ten minutes,” He looked out of the window, at the faint glow of a rising sun over the skyline of the city as he took another sip of his coffee. I continued to gaze blankly at him.

“Why in Merlin’s name do I have to go to a beauty parlor for your family…thing?” I asked. I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘convention’. Families don’t have bloody conventions. They have get-togethers. Or parties. Then again, the Malfoys are pretty abnormal…

“Because my family consists of some very prominent figures and I can’t have my secretary looking like a cavewoman,” Was his reply as he continued sipping his coffee and staring out of the window.

“Excuse me!” I said, affronted. “I do not look like a bloody cavewoman!”

His gaze turned to me. “Have you looked at yourself this morning, Weasley?”

I scowled. “I was woken up very rudely at four a.m. Forgive me for not looking more attractive, but I think the circumstances make it understandable, don’t you agree?”

He sighed. “Look, Weasley, I’m bloody giving you some time off to get pampered at a beauty salon. Can’t you, for once, just take it without arguing with me?”

I scowled. “Fine. Thank you.”

“There we go,” He replied. “Take your dress.”

Still looking murderous, I grabbed the dress and stalked out of the bloody office.

“Smile, Weasley, it’s not that bad!” He called after me.

I beg to differ – I’m working for you, aren’t I?


Of course, I, of all people, would be irritated as hell while getting done up at a beauty salon.

Honestly, though – the woman doing my nails? She’s on her sixth coat. Bloody hell, they were dark enough by coat two! Now you’re just wasting the nail polish. Oh, and the other woman currently waxing my legs? Yeah, she’s been yanking on the same strip of skin for the past ten minutes.


Do you know how much that hurts?

Another lady will not quit attacking my face with the bloody makeup. I swear I’m going to look like a clown by the time she’s satisfied. And yet another lady is literally guarding my hair – as in, full out snarling at anyone who gets within ten feet of it with a flat iron – and absolutely refuses to put any products in it, which I am honestly grateful for.

And the last three?

Yeah, they’re having an avid discussion.

About my boobs.

Welcome to Hell, Rose.

“She must be at least a 34D. I’m so bloody jealous –”

“Yeah, they’re like, the perfect size, you know? Not too big, but big enough so that people can notice –”

“I bet she gets them lifted every few months. It’s honestly not normal for someone’s chest to look that perky.”

Yes, my chest was just described as perky.

She did not just go there.

“Actually, I got my mom’s boobs. You know, Hermione Weasley? She definitely doesn’t get them lifted,” I said sweetly, smiling up at them through the fifty million pounds of makeup covering my face.

That shut them up. Bitches.

“Ze dress, ze dress!” The woman currently destroying my face cried in a loud, dramatic voice, gesturing for her minions – er, boob analyz – ASSISTANTS to grab my dress.

Dude, I think we can all tell that your French accent is fake as hell. Give it up.

Chattering excitedly, the pulled it over my hair, which had been pulled back in a ‘waterfall of curls’ (the lady’s words, not mine) to my waist, and slipped it over the rest of my make-up, letting it tumble down my legs in its full, sapphire, flowy-water-like glory.

“Eet ees…beauteeful!” The fake French lady breathed, clapping her hands to her chest. Her minions sighed in unison, also clapping their hands to their chests as they gazed dreamily at me.

Meanwhile I was trying not to piss myself in laughter.

“Take a look, ma cherie!” She ushered me to the mirror, and my mouth literally dropped.

No, not because the woman in front of me was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I couldn’t believe that it was, in fact, me (honestly, how cliché do you think I am?), but more because I didn’t look like a clown and I was completely flabbergasted.

In fact, I looked…normal. Rose-like. Rose-like with some touch-ups to cover Rose-mistakes.


In a natural sort of way. Like I wasn’t really trying, but managed to pull it off anyway.

Okay…this might work.


“You are never sending me there again,” I announced loudly as I stormed through Malfoy’s office doors. He glanced up from his notes, barely acknowledging me, then quickly looked up again, his eyes widening. He shot up from his chair, his hand jumping to the top of his head.

Merlin, I haven’t seem him do that for years.

“Er…why is that?” He asked cautiously.

“They started discussing my boobs!”

As if on cue, his eyes fell to my all-too-exposed chest. I watched, completely appalled, as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

Dude. He’s…

No way. He can’t be…

…is he?

Holy crap in a bottle, Scorpius Malfoy is checking me out.

I cleared my throat loudly, crossing my arms across my chest. Of course, that did nothing but push my boobs up even further. Malfoy’s usually pale cheeks were slowly turning red.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, turning on my heel and stalking out of his office. Honestly, what a bloody pervert. The bloke hates me! But as soon as he sees a pair of breasts…commence staring!


Fuming at the world in general (you all suck! Except for my family! They don’t suck! Because they don’t stare at my boobs! BECAUSE THAT WOULD JUST BE WEIRD), I plopped down in my chair and started working, my hand stiffer than usual.

Realizing that Malfoy could see me from his office, I quickly took my coat from the back of my chair and put it on backwards.

Ha. That’ll stop him from staring.


There was an awkward throat-clearing, and I looked up to see that Malfoy was standing in front of my desk, his hands pushed in his pockets. He looked a bit like a schoolboy caught by McGonagall and about to receive an obscene amount of detention.

“I apologize,” He muttered.

If he thinks that I’m not going to make this painful for him, he’s extremely wrong.

“For…?” I prodded, smirking.

He glared at me briefly. “For being a bloke and staring at you in that dress.”

I smirked wider. “Why were you staring?”

I think it would pretty much make my life if Malfoy was forced to admit that I looked good. Yeah, I have an ego.

His glare intensified. “Because, for once, you actually looked partway decent and, frankly, I was rather shocked.”

The smug look slipped off my face. “You were ogling my chest. I think I deserve a proper apology.”

“I was not.”

My eyes narrowed. “You were too.”

“Was not,” He said childishly.

I stood up. “Were too!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”




I took off my jacket and threw it back at the chair. His eyes slipped down again. “HAH!” I yelled in triumph, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re doing it again!”

“I am not!” He retaliated, but his eyes stayed down.

“You’re doing it right now, you prat!”

His jaw dropped in outrage. “I am not a prat! Take it back!”

“Make me!” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“What are you, three?!” Miss-two-doors-to-the-left stuck her head in the office, looking distinctly amused, yet still irritated. “Honestly, if there’s unresolved sexual tension going on here, just shag each other and get over it already!”

“THERE IS NO SEXUAL TENSION!” We both yelled at her in one voice.

“Right,” She muttered, rolling her eyes. “Whatever it is, please keep it down, yeah? There are people trying to work here.”

I huffed angrily and looked in the other direction, out of the large windows covering the wall overlooking London.

“We apologize for our behavior,” Scorpius told the woman, and with another amused look at us, she swept out of the office.

“Prat,” I muttered to him.

“Git,” He muttered back.

I whipped around to glare at him. “I should just quit.”

“Maybe you should – but we both know how much you need this job,” Malfoy told me languidly, taking out his suit jacket from the closet and putting it on – for once – himself.

“I can always get a job at the ministry,” I pushed stubbornly, crossing my arms again.

“Yes, but it’s quite an unfair advantage, don’t you think, using the fact that you’re Rose Weasley to get a job?” He drawled, sending me a smirk. I let out a low growl and stomped over to an ornate mirror on the wall next to the door.

Oh, god, time to look at the damage – okay, not so bad. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw that most of my makeup was still intact, save from a bright red blush that had spread itself across my cheeks in anger. As I tried getting the blush to fade away – deep breaths, happy thoughts – Malfoy came up behind me and tied his tie.

For a second, as both of us were encased in the frame, it almost looked as though we were in a portrait on the wall.

And, for some reason…it didn’t look bizarre at all. In fact, it looked almost…right. Good. We looked…good together.

How bizarre.

I sighed loudly, turning away from the mirror and ignoring Malfoy’s questioning look. I swear this stupid world is finally making me go completely bonkers.


“And this is my cousin, Alex,” Malfoy introduced, gesturing towards yet another blonde, who nodded at me, flashed a hundred-watt smile, and leaned down to kiss me enthusiastically on the hand.

Holy Merlin, he’s bloody snogging it.

“Er…” I pulled my hand away and wiped it not-so-discreetly on a nearby tablecloth. “Hello, I’m Rose.”

“Alex,” He nodded. He then turned to Malfoy, “Your assistant is hot.”

“She is also still standing right here,” I inserted, smiling tightly. “But thank you.”

“Right, moving on…” Malfoy took my arm and dragged me to the other side of the room.

I blinked as the constant flashes of blonde continued to assault my vision. Honestly, it’s like Malfoy just called up all of the blondes in Britain and invited them over here – everyone. is. blonde.

And my eyesight has been permanently damaged.

“Why is everyone blonde?” I couldn’t help but ask through gritted teeth, wincing as another flash of light bounced off someone’s head and seared straight through my retinas.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad, but still!

“Dominant gene,” Malfoy responded, even though I did expect him to. “And I wouldn’t be talking, Weaslette, your whole family is bloody ginger.”

“I beg to differ,” I shot back. “I’m not ginger. James and Al aren’t ginger. Roxy isn’t ginger.”

“Don’t kid yourself; you’re as ginger as they come,” Malfoy scoffed.

“I am not! My hair is mahogany!” I said, affronted.

“That’s just a nicer way of saying ‘brownish-ginger’,” Malfoy responded.

I glared at him. “Mahogany.”









“Scorpius!” Squealed a woman’s voice. Glaring at me once, Malfoy turned around to hug the woman.

“Hey, Mom,” He said, leaning down so that she could kiss his cheek.

“Hey, sweetheart,” She smiled again, and I couldn’t help but stare – Astoria Malfoy was beautiful. Not just pretty or ‘nice-looking-for-an-old-person’, but honestly, truly beautiful. With her sparkling blue eyes, flowy blonde hair, and sweet, dimpled smile, she gave the impression of being lovable and vulnerable but powerful, yet completely enrapturing at the same time.

“Long time no see,” He said, grinning down at her.

“Yeah, you prat!” She hit his arm. “It gets lonely at home without you running around like a crazy person. You need to come and visit more often.”

Dude. Not only is she hot, but she’s also really cool.

How is Malfoy related to her?!

“You know I’m busy, mom,” He reminded her patiently.

“I understand, love, but we do miss you, you know,” She sighed, her large eyes looking hurt and extremely puppy-dog-like. I could see how Mr. Malfoy had fallen in love with her. She was just so vibrant and sweet.


“Yeah, mom, I miss you, too –”

“And are you honestly considering staying single forever, young man? I mean, you don’t have much time left before all the young good ones get taken, you know –”

“Mom!” He groaned, throwing his head back.

I smirked as she continued to admonish him, completely disregarding his exasperation.

“You keep dumping your girlfriends! And I don’t bloody care that they’re not ‘the one’ or whatever. You need to find ‘the one’ and just bloody get married to her, already!”

“Mom –”

“Don’t interrupt me, Scorpius!”

I kind of wish I had some popcorn right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been so entertained in my life.

“Day after day, I’m sitting at home, getting old and wrinkly, worrying that my son will turn out the same way – but unlike me, be single! Do you know what that does to me? I’m starting to get grey hairs!”

“Where?” He asked drily.

“You can’t see them, they blend in,” She snapped. “I swear to Merlin, if you don’t find yourself a wife soon, I’m going to have to pull out the old Malfoy tradition and find you one myself! And no one wants their moms to find their wives. That’s just like getting dressed by your mother, and that’s sad, really.”

“Mom –”

“Look, we can start now. There’s Evanna Eckert, she’s lovely. She has such a nice smile. Maybe you should go and talk to her! I know she’s single and her parents really want her to find a nice guy. We could talk to them and arrange something!”

“Mom–!” He said again, letting out a yelp as she put both hands on his back and proceeded to shove him towards who appeared to be Evanna Eckert.

I followed along, partly because I didn’t know what else to do with myself and partly because Malfoy’s mortification was just too good to miss.

“She’s gorgeous, just look at that hair! She’s like a gem within rocks, a rose in the midst of thorns or whatever…” Mrs. Malfoy rambled as she continued to shove him. Malfoy’s eyes lit up with an idea.

“Rose!” He said loudly, as if he was just hit by an epiphany. My eyes grew.

“What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Malfoy stopped shoving for a second, and, smiling proudly at himself, Malfoy reached out, seized my hand, and towed me towards him.

What. The. Fucking. Hell.

“This is Rose, mom,” He said, panting slightly.

Mrs. Malfoy looked at me, her eyes brightening as she took in our intertwined hands. The only thing that I could do was stand there and gape stupidly at her as she said, “Rose! Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!”

The only coherent sound I could formulate was a small, indistinguishable squeaking noise as she smothered me in a large hug, her golden hair bouncing up around my face, rendering me incapable of sight.

I really hate blondes.

“Er – hi,” I said nervously, shaking myself free of Malfoy’s grasp and shaking Mrs. Malfoy’s proffered hand. “It’s, um, really nice to meet you, too.”

“Mom,” Scorpius announced, still looking profoundly pleased with himself. “Rose is my –”

“I’m his –”

“ – fiancée!”

“…secret…ar..y…?” My voice trailed off unsurely, my eyes widening once more as Mrs. Malfoy let out an almighty squeal – she rivals gerbils and hamsters, this woman does – and launched herself at me in another bone-crushing hug.







alright, whaaaaaaaaaaaat?! haha i sure started the plot early didn't i?

like i said guys, this story is extremely rough because it was really just a way for me to get back on track for breathless...but i hope you're enjoying it regardless of that :)

please review! and sorry for the wait :)

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