The Diary Of Rose Weasley- Sixth Year And Pregnant

Here's to 2024

edited: 17/07/2015

Chapter 5

Here's to 2024

Russia having been too expensive, I'd locked myself in the bathroom for the New Year's party.

It wasn't exactly that I didn't want to herald 2024 in whichever drunken way Uncle George suggested, nor was it that I didn't want to see the few friends of mine that had turned up, but I'd found myself throwing up violently for the past half an hour, and consequently my makeup had run and I was a bit of a mess, and there was not a chance in hell that I was admitting I was pregnant just yet.

Also, I'd figured alcohol was out of bounds, and all the tiny sausage-nibble-crisp things that Nana Molly had prepared seemed long gone, so there wasn't even anything to do.

Oh, and I have no one to kiss at New Year.

This wasn't a particularly pressing issue, but I did seem to be the only person in attendance who hadn't brought a plus-one, and it was getting a little lonely.

Half-heartedly, I wondered what Malfoy was doing for New Year. Not that those two trains of thought were related, obviously. I mean, why the fuck would I want to kiss Malfoy at New Year? He'd already fucked up the old year, for God's sake. And we're like fourth cousins, or something.

Ah but you slept with him, a little voice said at the back of my head. I couldn't identify it, but this sort of irritating comment was usually based on something Dom had said.

"I was drunk!" I replied aloud, furiously. I was acutely aware, in that moment, that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness.

It didn't stop you. He asked if you really wanted to, and you were completely in control when you said yes – you know that, Rose.

"Shut up," I growled. To its credit, the whiny, little voice ceased to bother me.

                I checked my watch. It was about half eleven. I really should go down and celebrate the New Year with my family – to keep up appearances, if nothing else. But it really was like the Common Room on Valentine's Day downstairs; Al had his new girlfriend – Emma? Ella? Elspeth Crabbe? – here; James had some blonde girl hanging off his arm last time I saw him (I wasn't sure if it was the same blonde girl that was threatening to cut off his balls as he left the castle for the Christmas holiday, nor was I bothered); Lily was with Lorcan Scamander – which was clearly a much more serious relationship than I'd realised, but then, Lily never did things by halves; Dom had invited this elusive new boyfriend who I still hadn't been introduced to (in her defence, I had swiftly walked in the other direction and pretended to be really busy with the bowl of olives, or listening to Uncle Percy apologise profusely for the absence of the new Minister for Magic – apparently he'd slipped over in the Ministry toilets and broken his wrist, what a twat – every time she'd tried to introduce him to me. Fred had someone here (realistically, the blonde girl with James and the brunette with Fred had come together and been intercepted by the two of them on arrival); Teddy was with Victoire – who he was going to marry and have children with and adore for ever and ever – how brilliant for him (I was feeling a little bitter that his life had turned out so well and mine was the biggest, most confusing mess I could have possibly imagined). Even Louis had a girl round: a very shy fourth year Slytherin who I'd thought was in Hufflepuff for four years now. It was just me who was alone; by myself; on my own; solo; solitary; unescorted; single. Inconveniently, it was just me that was pregnant, aswell.

I stood up slowly; recently standing up too quickly has resulted in vomit on the bathroom mirror, and headed downstairs, just as Granddad began to shout about fireworks. Uncle George rushed past, evidently having been summoned by the noun. No one got a kick out of fireworks like Uncle George – not even the muggles down our road on November 5th (little known fact: Guy Fawkes was actually a nasty wizard who had a thing for pyrotechnics and just fancied ruining everyone's day a little. If the gunpowder he'd been intending to use had gone off, being magical, it would have blown up most of London, including our ministry).