It was on the night of the Order of Merlin awards ceremony that I went too far.

The event was pretty public. Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world had to attend. So, of course, that meant that my mother and father had been hounded for weeks about accepting the invitation.

And Hugo and I got dragged along for good measure.

I huffed in exasperation as I looked over at my brother, one arm linked through Mum's and smiling coyly at everyone. Perfect and charming. Fourteen years old, straight O student, plenty of promise in him. Everyone wanted to talk to Hugo.

Nobody wanted to talk to me.

"So, you got dragged to this thing, too?" An unmistakeable voice in my ear said cheerfully.

I spun around, a genuine smile lighting up my face. "Al! I should've known you'd be here."

"My dad's presenting the awards," he supplied, pulling me into a hug. "You look beautiful, Rosie."

He cleaned up pretty well himself, in his fancy new dress robes. I grinned. "Yeah, yeah. And you look nice, too. Have you seen Hugo?" I gestured towards my brother, making a disgusted noise in the back of my throat. "He's being all smarmy and important."

Al laughed. "Oh, Rosie. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were jealous of all the attention he's getting."

I turned to my cousin in outrage. "Me? Jealous? Of that scrawny little pipsqueak? As if!"

But my eyes couldn't quite hide the lie, and I dropped my gaze before Al could figure out he'd hit the nail on the head. He was too intuitive for his own good, sometimes.

My eyes found Mum and Hugo, chatting away with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. Hugo was doubled over, laughing his head off at something the Minister had just said. Mum was watching him, her big brown eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, her face practically bursting with pride.

Yeah, Hugo was a bit hit with everyone. Smart, funny, interesting and polite. And here I stood, in the shadows, skulking out of sight, just in case I embarrassed anyone.

Yeah, wouldn't want that, I thought bitterly.

I knew Mum hadn't meant what she'd said earlier. At least, not in the way that I'd chosen to take her comment. It didn't make me feel any better though.

We'd been getting ready for the awards, and Mum was fixing my long, auburn curls back with one of her antique combs that I'd always found so pretty when I was little. She arranged my hair around my face, tucking in a couple of flyaway strands, and then she'd put her hands on my shoulders and looked seriously into my eyes.

"Rosie," she had murmured. "Please don't cause any trouble tonight. I know you mean well, sweetheart, but sometimes that temper of yours just gets the better of you."

Hugo never had to be told to behave. Ever. He just did.

"Rose?" Al was waving one hand in front of my eyes, trying to attract my attention. "Earth to Rose?"

I snapped out of my funk. "Yeah? Sorry."

"I said, do you want to find a seat?"

I glanced around the marquee, watching everyone else as they chose their seats together, or else lingered at the buffet, champagne flutes in hand. I shook my head.

"Not yet, I'm going to step outside for some air. It's really stuffy in here. Tell you what, why don't you find us some seats, and I'll come and join you in a second, 'kay?"

I plastered a phony smile onto my face that I knew Al didn't buy for a moment, but to my relief, he accepted what I'd said.

"Fine," he shrugged. "But don't take too long, the presentations are going to start in ten minutes."

I nodded at him to show that I understood, and made a swift beeline for the exit. The fresh air hit me like a bucket of cold water, and I shivered, pulling my cardigan tighter around me. I still didn't understand why they felt the need to host this event in January. My teeth chattering slightly, I took off for a walk around the small lake, just to keep warm.

About halfway round, I noticed a figure sitting hunched over beside the water. He was tall, muscular, and familiar in a very bad way. The moonlight was glinting off his blond hair, which was the only reason I had spotted him in the first place.

Malfoy.

I took a step backwards involuntarily, and winced as the gravel crunched underneath the stupid high heels my mother had bought for the occasion. His head whipped around, and the light of the moon cast his handsome features into sharp relief. His grey eyes narrowed in my direction, and I knew I'd been seen.

No hope of a speedy getaway then. I sighed, steeling myself.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"Weasley," he nodded stiffly.

Malfoy and I weren't exactly enemies, but we could hardly be called friends, either. We had both a mutual respect and toleration for each other. I called things like I saw them, and he appreciated that. He didn't play by anyone else's rules, and I admired that. But neither of us could really find any other qualities that we had in common. I don't think we tried very hard, in all honesty.

"What're you doing out here?" I asked.

He held up the bottle of firewhiskey as an answer.

Hesitantly, I took a step closer. "What's that for?"

The patented Malfoy smirk tugged the corners of his lips upwards. "Getting drunk. Obviously."

I rolled my eyes. "I meant, why do you want to get drunk?"

He surveyed me for the longest moment, and I didn't miss the way his eyes raked slowly over my dress. I crossed my arms, impatiently waiting for his answer, and he jerked his head towards the marquee.

"It makes the people in there marginally more bearable."

"Oh," I said. I took a couple of steps forward. "Mind if I join in?"

Malfoy spread his arms wide, as if to say 'be my guest'. I crossed the rest of the grass that separated us and settled down at his side. Wordlessly, he offered me his jacket. I refused with a single shake of my head.

"Take the jacket, Weasley," he insisted. "You don't have enough meat on your bones to keep out the chill."

I turned to glare at him, to which he only responded with a grin. Annoyed, but too cold to protest any further, I snatched the coat from his fingers and tugged it on.

"Thank you," I muttered. My tone was a little disingenuous.

He smirked again. "Don't mention it." There was a brief pause, and he raised the bottle to his lips for a swig. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Then he offered the bottle to me.

I took it, and gulped down a mouthful. It burned my insides, numbing the cold in my fingertips. I gulped again, and then passed the bottle back.

"So, why are you hiding? I would've thought this would be your scene," Malfoy said quietly, circling his thumb over the neck of the bottle before taking another glug.

"You don't know me very well, then," I countered.

"I don't know you at all, actually."

There was another long pause, where we regarded each other carefully. I exhaled in defeat, and broke the silence.

"Everyone in there completely fawns over my parents. And my brother. They all expect me to be just like them, the wonderful Ron and Hermione Weasley, and they're really disappointed when I open my mouth and ruin the image," I blurted.

Malfoy's eyes appraised me again, and his smirk was back. "I've heard plenty that you've had to say over the years, Weasley, and I still don't think the image is ruined when you open your mouth. Maybe you're being paranoid."

I frowned, trying to work out exactly what he'd meant by that. He was either saying the way I looked wasn't good enough to ruin, or it was too good to ruin. I couldn't decide which. Then I noticed he was still looking, so I figured it must be the latter.

I felt myself blush slightly. "Well, your opinion isn't the popular one."

"I'm not so sure about that."

My blush intensified, and I reached for the bottle again. "You're drunk, Malfoy."

He leaned back in the grass, folding his arms behind his head so that his biceps bulged underneath his dress robes. "Yep. Not going to deny that."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. "So, how about you? Why do you find these events so unbearable?"

He shifted in the grass so that he was propped on one elbow, and fixed me with a sad smile that looked completely genuine. "For the exact opposite reason that you do. I physically can't disappoint these people when I open my mouth, because their opinion is already so low of me."

I blinked, taken aback by the transparent honesty. "You really believe that?"

He quirked one pale eyebrow at me. "You don't?"

I didn't have an answer to that, so I took another sip of firewhiskey. For a second, I imagined what it would be like to be Malfoy, something I have never done before. I used to think it would be cool. He's so popular at Hogwarts. And smart. And attractive. I always figured that everything came easily to him. At school, everything he touched turned to gold. It had never occurred to me that this Midas touch might not translate well into the real world.

Being Malfoy must have sucked as much as being me.

"Do you ever wish that we didn't have to live and die with our parents' successes and failures?" I asked him.

He laughed once, without any real humour. "Oh, only every day."

I looked at him then. Really looked at him. We had far more in common than I would ever have believed. And maybe it was the firewhiskey, but I was suddenly glad that I'd ran into him.

"We should be getting back," I told him after a moment.

"I think I'll sit this one out, myself," he replied, shrugging. I sighed.

"I'd rather not go back in there alone." It was a hint, and I hoped he picked up on it. I needed him in there, if only just to be sure that there was someone else under that big white tent who wanted to be there about as much as I did. Misery loves company, after all.

"So don't. Stay out here with me."

"I'm supposed to be giving an award…" I hedged. Malfoy shrugged again, and I got the meaning loud and clear – 'suit yourself'. He wasn't going to beg me to keep him company, because that wasn't his style, but suddenly I thought, or maybe hoped, that he wanted me beside him, too.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll stay."

He handed me back the bottle after taking a long drink. "Finish it, if you want."

I held the amber liquid up for inspection and drained it in one. He grinned.

"You drink like a man," he noted, but he sounded impressed.

"Yeah, well, I've seen you in Quidditch. You throw like a girl," I teased. It wasn't true, of course. Scorpius Malfoy was a brilliant chaser. I expected him to get mad at the comment, but he didn't. He threw back his head and laughed.

"Damn, Weasley. Not bad."

"Thanks." I felt the grin growing on my face. It was strange – I hadn't imagined it would feel so easy, talking to Malfoy like this. It was a pleasant surprise.

"Tell me something," he continued, waving his hand lazily. "How come you and I have barely spoken before now?"

I was brought up short by the question, so I answered honestly. "Because we never wanted to."

Malfoy shook his head at me. "No. You never wanted to. I spent the first three years of school sitting in the back of Sluggy's classroom and trying to think of something funny, or clever, or, Merlin, actual words – to say to you."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Why?"

"Well, it probably skipped your notice, but I had a huge crush on you, back then." He said it so matter-of-factly that it knocked the wind right out of me.

"You did?"

"Uh-huh."

I searched his gaze, trying to work out whether he was lying or not. It didn't seem like it. "And now?"

He smirked again. "Well, I got over it." He looked me up and down again. "That's not to say that I'm opposed to the idea, or anything."

I just blinked at him, open-mouthed. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because you didn't seem to know I was alive at the time," he responded unashamedly. "Which sucked for me, because I pined after you until I was fourteen."

Wow. But he was wrong. "I knew you were alive. I always kind of admired you. You have this devil-may-care attitude going on. It's kind of inspiring, actually."

He laid one hand over his heart, a picture of mock sincerity. "You mean, I inspire the great Rose Weasley?"

I whacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "Sorry. It's just… well, I never thought I'd be having this conversation with you."

I smiled. "Right back at'cha."

I turned away, looking out across the lake, studying how the moonlight made the water sparkle if the rays hit it at just the right angle…

"Hey, Weasley…"

My head swivelled to look at my companion, but he'd moved. His face was now less than an inch from mine, his grey eyes churning like the clouds reflected in the water. I barely had time to register more than astonishment before he kissed me.

He kissed me!

If someone had told me during the day that I'd have ended up spending my night getting drunk by the lake and kissing Scorpius Malfoy, I'd have thought they'd gone even madder than Aunt Luna. Funny how things work out, though.

I closed my eyes after a moment's hesitation and kissed him back. His lips were warm, and softer than I'd expected, and as my tongue glided over his, I noticed that he tasted just like firewhiskey. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, I could feel the same warmth that I'd felt with the drink, spreading slowly through my insides, making my heart hiccough in my chest.

My arms slid up around his neck, and the arm that wasn't propping him up landed on my waist. I fell back into the grass as he rolled over me, supporting his own weight with his free hand. His lips broke away from mine for a moment, and he placed a soft kiss at the base of my jaw. I angled my head up, slightly, moaning…

"Rose!"

Both of us froze as though we'd been petrified. That voice was unmistakeable.

My dad… I mouthed, and Malfoy jerked upright as though I'd just told him an acromantula had come looking for me. With the good sense I didn't possess, he grabbed the empty firewhiskey bottle and threw it into the reeds.

Dad rounded the corner just as I had arranged myself into a more demure position. I chanced a glance at Malfoy, to see him working to keep a straight face.

He saw the funny side, now that he wasn't going to get caught molesting Ron Weasley's daughter by the legend himself. At least one of us found it amusing.

"Rose! Where…?" Dad's eyes fell on me, and then he took in the whole scene. Me wearing Malfoy's jacket. Malfoy sitting way too far away from me to be natural, hiding his face. He sniffed the air, and his eyes narrowed.

If he could smell the alcohol, I was impressed.

"Hi, Dad," I said cheerfully. He wasn't buying my nonchalant tone.

"Rosie, you're meant to be presenting the next award…" he reminded me, suspicion leaking into his voice. He rounded on my companion. "Aren't you the Malfoy kid?"

I saw Malfoy struggling to control his smirk as he responded. "Yes, sir."

The corners of Dad's mouth turned down in a scowl, but he didn't press the issue. "C'mon, Rosie. And you should be inside, too," he directed the last part at Malfoy. "Your parents are probably wondering where you are."

"Nah. They know I come out here during these events," he replied convincingly. Maybe they really did know, and just didn't mind. Huh. I wondered what that must feel like. Having a long leash.

"Oh. Well, alright." Dad pointed to me. "You. Up. Now."

I stood, and the world seemed to tilt a little around me. Oops. I was drunk, for sure. I just prayed my dad wouldn't notice.

"Bye, Scorpius," I emphasised, sure it was the first time I'd ever called him by his first name. I figured having my tongue in his mouth merited a first-name-basis kind of relationship now, at least.

"See you later, Rose," he responded, and his tone was full of something that made my stomach clench and my palms go clammy. I struggled to keep my face neutral, and he turned towards me and winked. Actually winked!

Dad didn't notice, thank Godric.

I tried to keep pace with my dad as we made our way back across the short distance, but I could feel myself swaying. It was only after the third time that I stumbled that he lost his temper.

"Rose Nymphadora Weasley, you're drunker than my old Uncle Bilius at a wedding!" he accused.

"No, I'm not!" I protested, but I slurred the last word and staggered. How much had I had?

"You can't go up on stage like this," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm fine!" I insisted, trying to prove my point by taking a step forward. I lurched, and the path seemed to be rushing up to meet me, until my dad's arms shot out and caught me. He set me back on my feet, keeping a tight grip on my shoulders.

"Rose, I can't believe…"

"Dad, I…" But I didn't finish my sentence, because I turned my head to the side abruptly as I felt my stomach roll over, and vomited all over the ground.

It was like I'd swallowed a puking pastille. I retched, clutching at my dad's arm for support, and he stroked my hair away from my face as I threw up again.

When I was done, he set me down on a little stone bench by the entrance to the marquee. I hugged Malfoy's – Scorpius's – jacket tighter around me, dimly aware that I should've given it back to him before. Dad crouched in front of me, his blue eyes serious.

"Are you okay, Rosie-Posie?" he murmured. Even though I was sixteen, the nickname made me feel like a child again. I sniffled, feeling pretty sorry for myself.

"No. I'm a mess."

Dad gave a deep chuckle. "I've been there. It's horrible."

"Mum's going to be furious when she finds out," I sighed, leaning my head back on the pole of the marquee.

"Maybe we won't tell her, eh?" he suggests lightly.

"I've disappointed you again. I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment." I wished that the words didn't taste bitter in my mouth.

Dad frowned. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy left- uh – I mean – why would you say that, sweetheart?"

I hung my head, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I know I'm not what you guys wanted. I'm not a good student, and I don't have any patience and I'm not charming and I don't enchant people like Hugo does, and I'm rude, and I do stupid things, and I don't think before I speak, and… I know you're proud of Hugo and you wish I was more like him."

Dad looked at me for the longest time, his expression completely unreadable. "Rosie, you're right. I am proud of Hugo. I'm enormously proud of him. He's smart and he's driven, and he's organised, and everyone adores him. I never fight with Hugo, because he's always doing the right thing. He's a fantastic person, and he's just like his mother. I couldn't ask for more. When you grew up, you were nothing like your mum at all."

I nodded, glumly. I knew that was the truth. But then Dad's whole face softened.

"You're stubborn, and headstrong, and you have a temper. You're difficult, and obstinate, and honestly, Rosie, you've been a complete nightmare at times. Always in trouble, thoughtless and irresponsible. And we've had some pretty epic fights. Yeah, Rosie, we clash a lot, but it's not because I wish you were more like your mum. It's because you're almost exactly like me."

I looked up, surprised. Dad was smiling, his face full of some sort of powerful admiration that I couldn't even begin to fathom.

"That surprised me, at first. I didn't want my kids to turn out like me. But the more I got to know you, the more I realised how stupid I was for not wanting that. Because the thing is, Rosie, I know you're just like your old man, but when I look at you, I understand that it's not a bad thing. Who would be daft enough not to love you, or admire you, or respect you? And I'm so proud of you, Rosie, because you're me, only better. Better than I ever could have imagined."

I didn't notice that I was crying until Dad reached up and brushed away my tears. He leaned forwards and planted a kiss on the end of my nose. "Don't ever, ever, think that I'm disappointed in you. It's not possible."

"I love you, Dad," I mumbled through my tears.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side. "And so does your mother. You know that, right? She pushes you because she has faith in you. So much faith in you. I can see how it would annoy you – it annoyed me for years, too."

I choked out a laugh.

For once, I was glad I had come to this stupid event. It had been an interesting night.

It was the first time in my whole life that I hadn't wanted to be as good as Hugo-Weasley-the-incredible for the evening.

I was happy being me, just Rose.

Thanks for reading, guys!

PJ

x