The Diary Of Rose Weasley- Sixth Year And Pregnant

"Can't we just, like, eat her?"

[Edited: 01/09/2016]

"Can't we just, like, eat her?"

Catriona, Hazel and I left for Potions at three minutes to ten, knowing full well that we'd be late. Indeed, we slipped inside the dungeon at five past, drawing more attention to ourselves than I needed on a day like today.

"Ladies, nice of you to join us all," Slughorn boomed. Somehow he could make that statement genuine, when it so clearly needed to be sarcastic. I smiled winningly.

"Sorry Professor. We were waiting at the fourth floor staircase for ages while it changed."

"Ah, of course," he acknowledged. "Yes, the fourth floor can be difficult. Take your seats, I was just telling the class what we'll be doing today."

This was a lie; after we sat down he spent another ten minutes telling us about the cheese board he'd been lucky enough to enjoy on Christmas Day. Finally we were invited to get on with the subtle art of potion making. Slughorn was offering a cauldron, or a new textbook, or a bag of coal or something equally as useless as a prize for the best Hiccoughing Solution. I was good at Potions, but my mind was elsewhere today.

Just as I was slicing five caterpillars, a balled up piece of parchment hit me in the back of my head, and I turned around and scowled in the general direction of where it'd been thrown.

"Weasley?"

"Corner," I replied shortly. Alfie Corner was a Slytherin in our year, but I rarely encountered him. I knew what he was going to ask.

"Are the rumours true? Are you really pregnant?"

I sighed. "Yeah."

"Who's the daddy?"

Before I could reply, a well-aimed jet of water hit Alfie in the face, from an unknown source.

"Mr Potter," Slughorn interrupted. "That'll be five points from Slytherin if you don't stop messing around."

"Yes, Professor," Al agreed earnestly.

"By the way, though," Slughorn continued, seizing a chance to build conversation with the Chosen One's son. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but that was a funny stunt you pulled with the flying car last night. Your brother's idea, if I recall?"

"Yes, Professor," Al repeated, in a much heavier voice.

"Do let him know that he's always welcome at my dinners."

"I'll be sure to tell him." A familiar voice sniggered from Al's direction, and I realised in alarm that Malfoy was in my Potions class. I'd been sitting in the same seat since September, and somehow I'd failed to register this. I'd clearly done a really good job of ignoring him all year so far.

Slughorn had travelled round the whole class, looking for the winner, and he reached me hopefully, his eyes shining in anticipation.

"Rose, let's see yours," he exclaimed excitedly. He took one look in the cauldron, and tried to mask his disappointment. My potion was not winning any cauldrons today. What the instructions had described as a 'transparent silver, which shimmered every time it was moved', was a thick layer of black goo covering the surface of my cauldron and smoking slightly. "Not today Rose, I'm afraid," he said unhappily. "Too much mandrake root."

I smiled innocently up at him. The mandrake root had been remarkably easy to imagine as James' neck, and I'd got carried away with slicing it because it was a weirdly therapeutic activity.

"In that case, having assessed everyone's Potions, I've decided that Mr Malfoy is the winner," Slughorn declared. I glanced around behind me in his general direction, careful to ensure he didn't see me looking. I didn't understand how I hadn't noticed him all year; I knew he was good at Potions - he'd been in my OWL class, and if it wasn't me getting the start of term bag of coal, it was him. Funny how sleeping with someone and regretting it makes you deny their entire existence.