Every Rose Has Its Thorn

By Lily Orange

Rose Weasley keeps a diary documenting the painfully excruciating ways she manages to humiliate herself in front of the love of her life, Scorpius Malfoy – who, by familial tradition, she's supposed to hate...

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Chapter One

September 1st

In which I managed to make an absolute fool of myself, completely accidentally...

Have I ever mentioned how annoying it is having a younger brother (younger by two years, though his maturity age is certainly not the same as his actual age, he acts as if he is about five) and cousins (James, two years older than me and in the same league as Hugo, my younger brother, for a distinct absence of maturity and Albus, my closest friend in the whole world, plus countless others I could mention owing to the fact that we have a rather large family) that girls seem to just hanker after?

Seriously, the moment I stepped over the threshold of King's Cross Station this morning, my dad following me with my case in his hand – he can have the trouble of carrying my books and clothes, of a weight roughly equivalent to an obese baby elephant – and my mum and him arguing over whether or not he could actually drive properly and whether he should have passed his test (it is certainly questionable, but, if I was my mum, I wouldn't enter a debate about it with him as it could go on for the next twenty million years), this girl in my year named Ophelia Blake ran up to me, smiling widely as if she was my best friend.

For the record, she was not. Ophelia Blake regarded boys and romancing them as more important than gaining qualifications that could help us have great lives in the future and working hard at school. That's probably why when she ran up to me she seemed to have forgotten to put on her skirt, the t-shirt dress thing she was wearing was that short. It's not as if she had a bad figure (though I swear her chest is larger than the average fifteen-year-old. Unfortunately mine is practically non-existent and am waiting for it to kick in, hopefully in the near future) but I didn't see why she had to dress herself up, or rather, undress herself to the point where if she had been standing on a street corner, people may have been worried.

Ophelia, known affectionately as "Lia" to her friends, i.e. not me, only talked to me when she wanted something. She was in Hufflepuff, so she was practically obligated to be nice to everybody on the bloody planet, but I swear she had a cunning streak to her.

But maybe that's just me being suspicious.

"Rose, Rose!" she shouted cheerfully, as if I was Keira Knightley, that Muggle actress, or something. Though, considering it was Ophelia, she was more likely visualizing some toned Quidditch player, rather than a woman who has played countless literary and legendary heroines such as Elizabeth Bennett, Guinevere (King Arthur's wife and Lancelot's lover), Lara (of Doctor Zhivago) and Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire. She was a much better role model than somebody like... Lavender B, the wizarding pop singer who my mum told me that my dad went out with at school. Every time Lavender's name is mentioned (normally by Hugo, who thinks, rather misguidedly, she is a sex goddess – his words, not mine!) he splutters and turns even redder than usual, so I think this is a confirmation that he did briefly date her before he married my mum.

I'm so glad he did marry my mum. I don't know what I would do if I had a pop star for a mother.

"Who's that?" I heard my mum say to my dad, cleverly bringing their argument about the state of my dad's driving to an abrupt end. To be honest, I think the outward state of the car is testimony enough. Who else, apart from my dad, Ronald Bilius Weasley, would crash a car into a lamppost, or manage to drive us from the road into a field and narrowly miss a cow? I still don't know how he did that, and am slightly too frightened to read up on it.

"That's Ophelia Blake," I hissed back, plastering a semi-fake smile on my face as she approached me warmly, her light hair fanning out behind her as she ran, not dissimilar to the way my Auntie Fleur's hair goes when she runs. Though she doesn't run very often.

"Hi Rose, have a good summer?" she asked, stopping right by me. Hugo gave me a quizzical look before trotting off with my parents down the escalators to the platform. Since they installed escalators here – well, the technical term for them is travelators, like the ones they have in the big Asda superstore near where we live – we've stopped bringing my Granddad Weasley as he gets rather enraptured when riding up and down them, and then my Grandma Weasley, the best cook in the whole wide world, perhaps even better than the house elves at Hogwarts (who I ensured were all given pay and holidays and everything), starts shouting at him. Instead we say goodbye to them on August the Thirty-First, when all the Weasley-Potters meet up at the Burrow. It gets quite full, I can tell you.

Here's a quick rundown of the extensive group of people that is my family: I have six Uncles (well, my Uncle Fred is deceased but I still class him as my Uncle), five Aunties, ten cousins plus then there is my Auntie Luna and Uncle Rolf, who come anyway even though they aren't technically part of the family, and with them comes Lorcan and Lysander, their twin boys. So, theoretically, I have seven Uncles, six Aunties, twelve cousins, plus then all the grandparents come round – so that's quite a lot of people filling up the Burrow. Al, James, Lorcan, Lysander, Hugo, Fred and Louis always start up a Quidditch game and want to play boys versus girls – which would mean a team consisting of Victoire, Dominique, Molly, Lucy, Roxanne, Lily and I, though this poses several complications. Victoire is a lot older than me, she was born on the second anniversary of when Voldemort was killed by my Uncle Harry, with the help of my mum and dad (Dad constantly reminds me of this) but I was born quite a few years later. She was in her last year at Hogwarts when I first started, and has now left. She owns her own dress shop in Diagon Alley and is engaged to Teddy Lupin, Uncle Harry's godson, who also comes round on August the Thirty-First. This means she doesn't like to engage in playing Quidditch and prefers to sit in a secluded area of the garden with Teddy where she thinks we can't see them (but we can, and let me tell you, I'm surprised they haven't suffocated from lack of oxygen yet). I don't like to play Quidditch and much prefer to sit and read, but then Al begs me to join in and Hugo threatens to burn my Limited Edition copy of Hogwarts: A History (a gift from my mum) if I don't so I have to play. Let me tell you, I am the WORST Quidditch player in history, even worse than my mum, who was pretty pathetic at it, by all accounts. All of these people buzzing around the Burrow makes it FORTY people sitting down for dinner.

Told you I had a large family.

"Yes, thanks, it was great," I replied cordially, quickly trying to find a way I could get away from Ophelia before she asks me to do something and I feel bad so say yes. She was unaware of this – instead she was smoothing down her t-shirt-cum-stupidly-short-dress and smiling charmingly at me like she was genuinely interested in what I had to say.

Remembering the manners I had been indoctrinated with since birth by my etiquette-obsessed mother, I added, "How was yours?"

"Oh, it was absolutely brilliant. We went to Australia for a month and spent the whole time on the beach, even though it was quite chilly, because their–" Ophelia gushed brightly.

"Their wintertime is when we have summer," I supplied for her. I had wanted to go to Australia, but I wouldn't have wasted away a month sunbathing on the beach. I would have visited the Sydney Opera House, gone into the outback and would have gone to the Great Barrier Reef. I wouldn't have spent it sunning myself – partly because I burn after thirty seconds owing to the fact I have pale skin and flaming red hair, which is so characteristic of the Weasleys. Also, my hair isn't even straight, like my cousin Lily's, Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry's youngest child. No, it's bushy. I swear it looks like tangerine-flavoured candy floss some days, it's that bad. Whenever I moan about it in Victoire or Dominique's presence, they always whip out the Sleekeazy Hair Potions and tame it for me. It looks good then but, to be honest, I couldn't be bothered to do it every day; it's far too much effort.

"Yeah," she smiled, "so I was wondering..."

Here it came, her ridiculous request for me to do something for her. Well, I was not tutoring her in Transfiguration or Charms, partnering with her in Potions or Defence Against The Dark Arts (I was a popular partner choice in lessons as I was, not wishing to sound boastful as it's what Al and James and countless other people have informed me, the cleverest girl in my year) or helping her with a Care of Magical Creatures project. No way, no way José–

"...if you could introduce me to your cousin James?" she finished nervously, batting her excruciatingly long eyelashes at me. Honestly, was there anything defective about this girl? She was tall, slim, bodacious, pretty, blonde, green-eyed and just an all round beauty. Plus, she had long eyelashes.

I know you shouldn't hate people because they're pretty, but I strongly disliked Ophelia.

"My cousin James?" I stammered, not quite sure why. "Why would you want to be introduced to James?"

James Sirius Potter – my older cousin, Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry's oldest son. He was in seventh year, two years above me and his brother Al, apparently – according to the female population of Hogwarts – gorgeous and very sexy. Obviously I couldn't comment on this as I am his cousin, but the girls who proclaimed this so ardently had not seen James picking his nose when he was little or running around the garden of his house with no clothes on. Admittedly, that was when he was about four, but I had suffered these severely damaging sights! I had also been subject to his esteemed pranking abilities, meaning that I had, several times, woken up with my hair a different colour, covered in water or – even worse – the acne-provoking potion he bought from Uncle George's shop Weasley's Wizard Wheezes (not that it really made much difference in my case as I, unlike Ophelia, was not blessed with flawless skin) plus lots more that if I mention will make my brain explode.

"Um... because he's pretty cool?" Ophelia offered.

I established this as Ophelia-language for, "I fancy your cousin James like mad and think he is HOT!"

Once I had made the correct translation, I think I must have pulled a disgusted facial expression, which made Ophelia flinch a little bit.

"Oh, uh, sorry, yes, James! We are talking about the same James, right? Six foot, dark auburn hair, brown eyes? Full name James Sirius Arseboy Potter?" I said in confusion.

"Sorry – what?" Now it was Ophelia's turn to look confused.

"Um, must have got his name a tad wrong there, I meant James Sirius Potter. Must have got him mixed up with somebody else!" I said apologetically, and she smiled in confirmation. I was surprised she didn't question who exactly would have the middle name "Arseboy" and why their parents were cruel enough to give it to him, but she wasn't in Hufflepuff for nothing. If she was a Ravenclaw she would and if she was a Gryffindor perhaps she would have laughed, same probably with a Slytherin, who seem to find me rather amusing.

I'm not sure that it's complimentary though.

"You want me to introduce you to James?" I repeated, just to make sure.

"Yes," Ophelia said slowly as if she was talking to an imbecile. Which, at that moment, I was probably being.

"Okay – but are you sure? There're boys that are a lot more pleasant!" I tried to dissuade her, but she shook her pretty little head and fell into step beside me as I embarked on a dual mission to simultaneously catch up with my family and find Al.

It wasn't long before I located my family – my mum, dad and little brother were nearly at the barrier for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters (why is it not named Nine and a Half if it is between Platforms Nine and Ten? The pillar is halfway between the two platforms! Logic surely dictates that it should be Nine and a Half!) so I increased my pace in order to catch up with them.

Ophelia quickly managed to keep up – did I forget to mention that besides being beautiful and nice, she's also athletic?

And people wonder why there is hatred in the world.

"Mum!" I shouted over the crowd – I am not very tall so this makes it difficult to attract people's attention in such situations as this – scurrying between people who continually bashed my legs brutally with their big, fat, savage briefcases.

Honestly, where are the manners in this world?

"Rose?" I heard my brother call, obviously recognising my voice in the hustle and bustle of people on the platforms. Eventually Ophelia and I managed to get through to them. They were standing right in front of the barrier, Hugo quite capably carrying his own trunk (then again he is five inches taller than me, which is so not fair because he is two years younger!) and Dad lugging mine around.

"Ready, slow coach?" Hugo asked and I nodded, ignoring his stupid little nickname for me, and walked straight through the barrier. I have to say, I have always kind of had issues with this barrier because I am scared that, like it did when my dad and Uncle Harry were in their second year, the barrier will close and I will walk into a solid brick wall and fall on the floor and die from the amount of concussion I receive, or alternatively forget who I am and think that I am a Hippogriff called Wanda.

I have a rather over active imagination.

"Hey, Rose!" I heard the familiar voice of my best friend and cousin, Albus Severus Potter. He emerged through the crowd, his jet black hair as messy as ever and his emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. I wish I looked as distinct as Al (I don't mean like a boy! Merlin forbid!) but unfortunately, unless I purchased some hair dye and contact lenses, I would forever remain red-haired and blue-eyed, which, in my opinion, was a rather boring combination.

"Al!" I said happily, throwing my arms around him in an ecstatic hug. Fortuitously, I had never been subjected to seeing Al picking his nose or running around his garden naked like his older brother. Also, Al does not prank me like James does.

"Why is Ophelia next to you?" Al whispered in my ear as he pulled away, his eyebrows raised comically.

"Where's James?" I said rather pointedly, and Al understood that next to me was another one of those girls who thought his older brother was "hot".

"He's already on the train. Hi Hugo, how's it going?" Al greeted my younger brother enthusiastically. Hugo grinned.

"Fine thanks, seen Lily?" Lily Luna Potter was Al's younger sister and, along with Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, was best friends with Hugo. It's good our family gets on with each other; otherwise we would have serious problems.

"On the train also, I think, mate," Al smiled helpfully, and Hugo bounded off, carrying his suitcase with ease. "Come on Tiny, let's go get us a carriage," he said as my parents went over to talk to Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny who were already conversing with Uncle Newt and Auntie Luna.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" I rebuked him as we stepped through the door of the scarlet steam train that was the Hogwarts Express in order to locate ourselves a carriage.

"Yeah, but it's fitting," he teased. Al, like his brother, was reasonably tall, unlike me, who only reached a miserable height of five foot two. Because of this, I had to pay attention to whether I was eating too much cake as otherwise I would be Arsegirl and look quite similar to a pig.

We settled ourselves in the nearest compartment, and I went off with Ophelia in order to locate James, whilst Al made himself comfortable on the cushioned seat and brought out his copy of the Daily Prophet,which he only bought so he could check the Quidditch scores.

I eventually found James, who was laughing and joking with his friends in a carriage near the bottom of the train. Inside said carriage was seated Louis (Victoire and Dominique's younger brother – they had both left Hogwarts now), Fred II (Uncle George and Auntie Angelina's oldest son) and then Michael Davies, Ben Richardson and another cousin of mine, Molly (Uncle Percy and Auntie Audrey's oldest daughter), who was actually in sixth year but was going out with Ben so always sat with him and James' friends.

"Hey, Rose!" James said happily. He stood up and gave me a quick hug, but was peering over my shoulder the whole time, staring at Ophelia, who was smiling coyly and twisting a piece of her sunny blonde hair around her finger flirtatiously. "And who is this?" he inquired, eyeing Ophelia appreciatively.

"This is Ophelia Blake," I introduced in my uniform voice that I did whenever I had to introduce girls to boys in my family (believe me, it happened quite a lot).

"Hey Ophelia, want to sit with us?" he asked, shoving Fred up so that there was a space beside him.

"Love to," she replied. I guessed I wasn't needed anymore, so I left the carriage so that I could return to the one I was sharing with Al. I hoped to Merlin there were no girls in it when I got back as Al was now considered a heart throb (well, according to random girls in my classes who gossiped about him to no end) so it may have been possible.

When I got there, however, there was no other girls in there, but there was another person in there besides Al. Al was still lying down, but the Daily Prophet was now discarded and he was deep in conversation with the other person – Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.

His mop of platinum blonde hair and grey-blue eyes were immediately distinctive, as was his pale skin and aristocratic good looks. And I admit that they were exquisitely good looks, it was almost as if that boy had been fashioned by the gods, he was that beautiful.

But I didn't fancy him. Obviously not, that would be stupid. Besides, there was this long time family feud between the Malfoys and ours. Although Scorpius' father, Draco Malfoy, is sort of friendly with our parents now, there's still this element of competition between us. That would eliminate any hope of romance. Not that I was hoping for any, I was just saying.

I prayed my hair was looking less out of control as I slid open the door of the compartment and entered. Both boys looked up at me as I did, and as I stepped inside, I managed to trip over Albus' damned shoes he had kicked off when he had gotten on the seating and fell over. Yes, I fell head first...

Into Scorpius Malfoy's lap.

I was practically lying in his lap, and he was looking at me quizzically and as if he thought I was really clumsy, which I am – though it's Albus' fault for leaving his BLOODY SHOES THERE – and I was completely red-faced. I could feel the heat of my face as I blushed insanely.

I didn't get why I was blushing though, as I so obviously don't fancy him.

So patently NOT.