HELLO! I'm currently wondering who reads author notes. Obviously, if you're reading this, you are. So thank you for reading it. (: Now. I have to apologize for me not uploading for a reallyreallyreally long time, but uhm. yeah. I'm having and had, some really major exams that decide my fate. No kidding. Just today I actually had another exam, but I needed a break. And so I finished this. My reallyreallyreally major exams start next month, so within that whole period i have to be spam-studying. But after that, I promise that this thing will be done really quick. I think. Really high chance.

Eheh. I talk a lot, as you have probably noticed. Also, if you're going to favorite this story, can you please, please, drop me a quick review? I want to know how much you like this story which I think I am writing pathetically.

Loveyoualways! :D

I'm confused

I'm alone

So please explain it all to me

And hold me here

Hold me now

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Okay, calm down Scorpius.

You're getting agitated. Malfoy's are supposed to be calm, cool and collected. Do not think about it. Think about getting a massage. A lovely, soothing-

"Damn it!" I slammed my cup on the table. Crap. The remaining people in the Great Hall turned towards me, surprised at my outburst. Oh, fine, people, agree to a date when you don't want to go! You do that! Not like you don't go mad! I don't care! It doesn't concern me! I don't need pity! I don't need a fucking date! I would just like to sit in the common room and do my homework or something! If I'm bored, I'll play wizard chess with myself! I assure you, it's exciting. Thrilling, really. Who needs dates? You should be thinking about one-night stands! All the girls are clamoring for me! Why go on a date!"

This isn't helping.

And it's not just me going to the Ball with the date of my choice, I'm being set up. That is beyond terror. I would at least pick a pretty looking Slytherin! Stupid Potter. Stupid Potter. ! And dare I say it, stupid Jasmine! Does she not understand why I don't want to go! I hate Balls! You usually have to slow dance! Even though I explicitly told them I would never, ever, dance with my date, they'll probably make me. Screw them. Furthermore, you have to fetch them punch! You have to all act romantic-like, when really, all I want to do is lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling!

Worst of all?

Professor Millicent's assignment's first draft is due tomorrow. I want to blame this on Potter, but I probably can't. Besides, I'm too nice, am I not? Compared to some people. Such as Lily Potter. And Jasmine Evans. Ugh. I can't stand this. I'm going to the common room to try and compose two fucking songs. To hell with it all.

I stood up, all eyes on me, and stiffly picked up my bag, and with my remaining dignity, walked briskly out of the Great Hall. I walked along the corridor, back to my common room. Every step I took on the stone-tiled floor, echoed into the distance.

Somewhere else, a triumphant yell was heard.

"I'm done! I'm done! I'm done I'm done I'm-"

"Mad," Lily said, flipping a page of her magazine. Did I mention that it was a Muggle teenage magazine? Something about fashionable clothes. I couldn't really give a damn about whatever she was reading. Who cares about fashion? Half the time it's some skinny model in some revealing clothes. Lily tries to deny it though, shoving the magazine in my face to prove it, but I always close my eyes. I don't want to be blinded. I admit, though, the only time I saw a model like that was when I was walking the streets of Muggle London. But that is not the point. Fashion magazines are trash anyway.

I glare at my cousin. She looks at me over her magazine, shook her head, and went back to reading. I would not, let this affect my mood. Because I had just finished Professor Millicent's assignment's drafts! It was done! "Have you even finished your drafts, Lily?" I ask in a hard voice.

"Sure, it was really easy. All I had to think about were clothes and Charles, and a perfect love song was written. Well, two. One on clothes, one on Charles. It's not that hard, Rose," Lily shrugs.

I stared at her in disbelief. Seriously? Just thinking about her two favorite things gave her a song - clothes and her boyfriend. This is beyond pathetic. It took three hours for me to write two songs. How on earth did my cousin complete a piece of work earlier then me! Whatever. I would still not let it ruin my mood. The songs are perfect, and I composed it. Still, it's rather hard not to get affected by my 'excited' cousin. Staring at her disinterested face, I state crossly, "Fine. I'm going to take a walk by the lake."

"Mmhmm."

I love you too, Lily. I love you too.

I storm out of the common room in a huff. Lily didn't even blink, I bet. It always happens. I'm happy about something, she makes me unhappy, and I storm out. And then walk by the lake to clear my thoughts. Then I come back just before curfew. Always happens. Routine.

Right.

But this time, when I walk by the lake, it feels different. It's a full moon, and there's a slight breeze. It's perfect, yeah, I know. The right mood and everything. I could even start writing a composition about it. A starry night. The moon hung high in the sky, and there was a slight breeze blowing through the lake. The crickets were chirping a mournful tune due to *insert reason here*, and…" Get my point?

I don't understand. I just don't. And now, you might be asking what I don't understand, aren't you? But I don't know either. I don't even know what I don't understand. All I know is that it has something to do with Malfoy and Jasmine. She's been acting… not so lovey-dovey anymore. And Scorpius, sorry, Malfoy, doesn't seem to notice. Or mind. Or whatever. It makes me feel uncomfortable somehow.

I like him so much it makes my heart ache. I hate him so much that it helps me conquer the fact that I should never, ever, feel anything for him other than hatred. Pure hatred, because it had already been settled: I was a Weasly, he was a Malfoy.

But sometimes I lose.

Sometimes it's unbearable to tear my eyes away, to stop thinking about his fucking brilliant smirk. The arrogant one that makes my heart beat twice as fast for some reason. His beautiful grey eyes and his brilliance. He's perfect. And then there are those days when he pisses me off so badly I threaten to hex him and really do, sometimes. That I glare at him hard, and can swear I see something flicker beneath his eyes. To tell you the truth, the my-heart-beat-increases thing usually happens either when number one, he mocks me or my family, or number two: when I think about him and me put together. How that we will never ever in a million years, be. It's like he's some fucking beautiful moon and I'm this Sun and no matter how hard we try, we'll never be in the same place, because that was how it works.

It's either one or the other.

Assuming that both the sun and the moon want to be together, of course. I know I'll get over him eventually, just like Emily Goyle got over him, just like so many others did. And in the end, he'll marry another pure blood, have a child that looks exactly like him, and exact replica, and live happily ever after. Or 'richly ever after', if there were such a phrase. But sometimes I just can't stop. And usually then, do I start crying.

Just like I am now.

The tears are just coming out by itself, I swear. They always, one way or another, spill out of my eyes and onto the ground. I really am that pathetic. I quickly wipe them away, though I know my face will probably still be glistening with them. At least I tried anyway.

And then suddenly, I hear a voice behind me. Speak of the fucking devil that makes me cry, because it's Malfoy.

And I don't want to see him right now, just like how I don't want him to see me like this.

From the start, I knew it wasn't meant to be like that,

And yeah,

I wish it was a fairytale,

And that you were my prince ,

To sweep me off my feet.

Ride off into the sunset,

And live happily ever after,

But it's not.

It's not.

I can't fucking do this fucking assignment at all. I can't. It's so damn hard to think of somewhat-rhyming lyrics. And I can't even pay someone smart to do it, because they're as creative as they have a social life. And i'm talking about retards here. So yes, they have zero social life, zero creativity. Bastards. I would pay fifty galleons for someone to write me a fucking song. I crumple up my latest attempt, and skillfully throw it into my dustbin. Score. (Unfortunately, not with my assignment.)

I have ten pieces of crumpled paper in that very dustbin right now, as a matter of fact. All failures. 'Malfoys will never fail at anything' is the Malfoy family motto, and I intend to stick to it for the rest of my life. 'Till' death due thou motto part' is also another. Basically, my family has a hell lot of mottos. And we have to stick to them. It's in our genes. In every single cell our perfect god-like bodies contain.

Okay that's it.

I give up. I'm going for a walk. I push back my chair and grab a sheet of paper and a quill. Time to go to a place where I can really think. As briskly as I can, I exit the common room and walk out of the school, to the place where I love the best in this entire 'educational wonder!' as Dumbledore so eloquently put it. Surprising, no, it's not the Room of Requirement. I don't give a shit about it. I personally think it's crap, because well, I can't find it. I'm on the third floor and everything, wishing for it, and I can't find it. No, it does not mean I am pathetic. The Room of Requirement is only for gits who actually need things, and as a Malfoy, I do not. Perhaps the room only opens itself when the person is poor. Or unlucky. Or retarded. Or socially unaware of how pathetic he is.

I breathe in the air of my surroundings, and plonk myself on the crisp grass.

I simply love the lake.

It's surroundings are breathtakingly beautiful, and the air is always fresh. The Hogwarts building is always so stuffy, but out here, it's lovely. The stars are rather clear tonight. I adore stars, did you know that? Once or twice, I actually happened to see a shooting star. If you were able to figure it out, Astronomy is thus my best subject. I would wish upon shooting stars, whenever I saw them. Who wouldn't? It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I've seen shooting stars thrice. I would wish for stupid things, really. When I was younger, I would wish for a new broom, some chocolate frogs, things of that sort.

And the reason why I think my wishes come true?

Because they do.

Whenever I did wish for things, they would appear. It was fascinating, really. I never told anyone about it, because I was selfish. I'm a Malfoy, okay? And I don't mean that it would just fucking appear right next to me. I mean, that would be plain freaky. I could still remember when I wished for my broom, for example.

The night after I wished for a new broom, my father organized a family shopping spree. We would go to Diagon Alley, and Mother would get some new clothes from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Then, she would proceed to her favourite jewellery shop. I would tag along with my father, because, well, I hated waiting for Mother to finish trying on her things. I would have to stand around, and later carry her shopping for her. It was terrible. Anyway, on that day, my father had finished going to Flourish and Blotts for his favourite novel, and he had asked me where I had wanted to go. Of course, I promptly replied that I wanted to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

And bam. Thirty minutes later, I walk out of the shop with a brand new Nimbus 3003. And a broom servicing kit.

I was ecstatic, as you probably could guess. I only realized the relation to the fact that I wish upon a shooting star the next time it happened, but realize it I did, all the same.

The main point I wanted to put across, before I got sidetracked, would be that I love the lake, and I love nighttime.

There, I finally said it, without all the crap.

Anyway, I still have to think of lyrics for the song I'm supposed to write. Staring out at the lake's surface, where the stars in the sky are reflected in, I already know what I'm going to write. It's already forming in my mind.

And then, suddenly, I can hear someone sobbing. Okay, crying. It's really soft, anyway. Immediately, I deduced ('Thou must deduce') that's it's a girl because:

1. Boys aren't usually found at lake. I'm not a boy, if you're wondering why the previous statement makes no sense. I am a god. A beautiful, perfect, god.

2.

I have no number two, but that aside. Girls don't usually come to the lake. Practically all the students don't come to the lake, frankly. They think it's wet. Well, the lake is wet, because it's a body of water, no? But they have some skewed idea that the grass and stuff are wet, which is not true, unless it rains. It's all dry and comfortable.

So yeah. I think it's a girl.

Which is fantastic. One more girl to hook up with.

I quickly pen down my ideas onto my paper so I wouldn't forget it completely, and tuck it into my shirt pocket. I get up and brush off the (imaginary) dirt on my clothes ('thou shall always brush off imaginary dirt') and proceed to walk towards that mystery girl. Her back's facing me, but in the moonlight, I can see that she has the most fantastic body I've ever seen. And that's saying something. How come I've never seen her around before, anyway?

"Are you okay?" I ask tentatively, unsure for the first time in a long time. ('Thou Malfoy shall not be unsure, hesitant, or anything of that sort.')

I can see her freeze, and for a moment I'm dumbstruck. Shouldn't she recognize my voice and know at once that a god is coming to her rescue? What a curious situation. She turns slightly to face me, and I can see her profile, finally, properly.

And then I freeze, because I noticed her hair color.

It's red.

Oh shit.

And then, after I've gotten over my shock, I'm angry. Because she's crying. She's fucking perfect, as I've just noticed, because she has the most fantastic body ever (why did I not notice it again? Oh right. Because I was pissed at her for looking sad. Right. Just checking), loving family, and all that priceless crap.

And she's crying.

What, is she pregnant or something? I run my eyes over her figure, just to confirm it. Negative. She's not pregnant. Then what is it? Stupid girl. Stupid Rose. Stupidstupidstupid.

She still hasn't said anything, though she has turned to face me. I can see her face is tear-stained, for some retarded reason, I'm sure.

You know, I hate Rose. For what she is. But I perfectly accept her at the same time. Weird, eh? She suddenly stands up, looks at the piece of my paper tucked into my shirt pocket, and says "You're writing a song about a broom?" She snorts, half-laughing and half-crying.

And then she proceeds to walk back to the castle, leaving me standing there, utterly confused (and pissed).

by the way, in case you're wondering why Scorpius is on the third floor, when he should be on the seventh for the room of requirement ... it's because he doesn't know that yet. Silly Scorpius.