6.3 When Lily Happens

Lily held court in the common room after dinner, just feet from the table where Rose had spread out her books so that she could monitor the Monday Gryffindor study session. For being her closest female cousin, Rose felt sometimes as if Lily were a different species entirely. Her eyes were dark brown to Rose’s firewhiskey-colored, wide spaced and heavy lashed, and she used them to great effect on whichever Hogwarts male was currently in favor. Her fall of straight, thick hair shone with a deep auburn glow, while no amount of Sleekeazy's could tame Rose’s coppery curls to look like that. Her worst offense, however, was Lily’s creamy skin - not a freckle in sight.

It would give a lesser Weasley a screaming fit, but Rose accepted the fact that Lily was just genuinely lovely with resignation. Just as she accepted Lily’s flair for drama and quick temper, it was simply the whole Lily package.

She liked Lily best when they were on the same side, fighting the same wrong, or when Lily remembered there was something beyond her own story. Occasionally, Lily had flashes of extreme sympathy, and she reminded Rose strongly of her Aunt Ginny - one of Rose’s favorite people in the world. But mostly, Lily was selfish in an off-handed way. It seemed to Rose, who had to put up with Lily because she loved her, that her cousin wasn’t selfish because she didn’t care about other people’s feelings. She was selfish because she hadn’t realized yet that other people even had feelings.

If she was a better person, Rose might try to mold Lily into the girl she had potential to become. It was obvious that Weasleys just accepted everyone in spite of their faults and foibles. Molly was permitted to be tediously boring. No one had ever laughed when Dominique shaved her head to become more streamlined for Quidditch. And Fred was frankly disgusting. There was no one who would take Lily in hand before she grew from being a mildly selfish girl into a completely narcissistic woman.

But Rose had plenty on her plate, so to speak, and not a speck of room left to devote to shaping her cousin. Not just keeping up her grades, but keeping up Al’s grades without making it completely obvious. Plugging into more extracurricular activities to seem well rounded. Completing prefect duties without seeming taxed by them. Ruining Yates' chances at Head Boy. She really ought to write all this down. Lists were dead useful.

From the front cover of her thick Potions text, Rose withdrew a folded piece of lined paper that matched exactly the pages found in the little journal she'd hidden in the library a few weeks back. It was just luck she'd stumbled upon the ad in the Daily Prophet last July, notifying interested parties that Kruger-Bibson Used Books was selling charmed quills and journals at a reduced rate. After the debacle last term when Lily had 'mysteriously' discovered Rose's old journal tucked under her mattress and, at the encouragement of James and Fred, had read excerpts aloud to the common room, Rose had been mulling over the logistics of journal management on a distractingly continuous basis. Thankfully, Lily had only read some of the more benign beginning bits before Rose had returned from patrolling the corridors and discovered the younger girl acting out her first Care of Magical Creatures class for the entire house. With the help of Al, who had bodily tackled his sister to the floor, Rose rescued her journal and hid it again, but she never felt completely safe about the whole journal situation from that day forward. Lily might have waved off any concerns that Rose had a right to be embarrassed or outraged over the invasion of her privacy, insisting that she couldn't be embarrassed when her whole life had been so boring thus far, but it was pretty clear the younger girl was still prowling for a chance at that journal. She continued to show up uninvited in their dormitory until the end of the term.

This new journal was a much safer bet. Briefly, Rose had considered giving up the entire practice of journaling, but at some point, it had become a necessary catharsis. Spilling her thoughts on a piece of paper was different than sharing with a real person, but it was better in some ways. There was no judgement, no hurrying her through her story so someone could share their own, no one looking bored as she agonized over whether or not certain decisions were a good idea. Perhaps Lily was bored by the Decision to Buy the Dress, but the journal never got bored. That was the beauty of it - Rose didn't write in the journal to keep people entertained. She wrote in it because she needed to, and lately, it felt like she needed to write more than ever. The new journal worked perfectly to avoid snooping, because she never actually had to have it on her. While the actual journal was hidden in a charmed space in the library, Rose could jot down her thoughts on this single piece of paper as they occurred to her. The writing magically transferred to the hidden journal and disappeared from Rose's page, leaving her with an ever blank slate on which to work and leaving her journal safely hidden beyond the reach of prying eyes.

She jotted down her checklist for 'Path to Getting Head Girl', having only a moment to tuck the paper back into her text book before Al threw himself into the chair across from her. It was a wonder furniture in the Gryffindor common room lasted more than a season with the way these boys abused it, but Rose didn’t have time for rebuke. Al’s expression gave her pause.

“If I have to listen to any more of that, I’m going to vomit.”

“Disgusting,” Jayne agreed, sliding into the empty chair beside Rose and rearranging Rose’s books on the table to make room for her elbows. Both Al and Jayne had lingered after dinner, leaving Rose to rush back to the common room to organize the study session. It came as no surprise that they'd managed to dawdle long enough to miss any actual studying.

“What's disgusting?” Al jerked his head at Lily. Although her cousin and her cohorts were practically sharing space with her, Rose had managed to block out the conversation occurring around her. She tilted her head in their direction, hoping for some key to help puzzle out Al’s foul mood. In spite of the high spirits of the rest of the house over their Quidditch victory this past weekend, Al had been nursing a bad mood for a couple of weeks. If his mood wasn't so perplexing, Rose would be well sick of him by now.

Today, however, his mood was warranted. Lily perched on the arm of the sofa, her posture suggesting a courtly raiment should be draped on her lithe figure. “There really is no contest, you know? I mean Tyler Montague is prefect, but he’s a seventh year. Far too old. And Apollo Burke is a prefect too, but he lacks a certain charisma and carriage. Jason Urquhart is shorter than I am, and he's the last of the Slytherin prefects. And it has to be someone at least a year older, so we can be engaged for my entire seventh year. That’s how it’s done properly - consider how inconsequential Victoire's epic romance became once Teddy was gone because she failed to properly tie him down. Really, Malfoy is the only reasonable choice. He’s handsome enough, that’s for sure, only I wish he wasn’t two years older than me. It’s better if we were only one year apart. Do you think people will get bored of the engagement if I’m engaged for my sixth and seventh? And if we wait until my seventh, then maybe people will have forgotten… no. He’s still the best choice. My own Slytherin prince.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Rose murmured in agreement. Hugo and the other Weasley boys were occasionally idiots, but Lily seemed to be making it her goal to take it to a new level. And she actually had other fourth and fifth grade girls sitting around nodding at her as if she made sense. Queen of the Idiots.

“What the hell is that?” Al’s fists hit the polished tabletop, sending Rose’s books toppling to the floor. She scrambled after them.

“Disgusting,” Jayne said again, although she was obviously biting back a grin. She clasped her hands beneath her pointed chin. “My own Slytherin prince. Blah blah. Vomit vomit.”

Rose, choking on a chortle, hit her head on the bottom of the table and nursed the wound as she slid back into her seat. “Where did that bit come from? The Slytherin prince?”

“Some Romeo and Juliet stuff. She’s all about star-crossed lovers and ‘from two houses divided’ crap right now. Has been since the summer. Apparently her best love story has her falling in love with her mortal foe.”

Mortal foe? Rose wasn’t entirely sure Scorpius Malfoy knew who Lily was, let alone considered her to be his mortal foe. Did ‘mildly annoying foe’ count for anything? Or even ‘spoiled daughter of the man who was once your father’s mortal foe but is now a politely passing acquaintance’? Didn’t really roll off the tongue the same way, did it?

“Do you suppose she knows that everyone dies at the end of Romeo and Juliet?” Rose fingered the lump on her forehead gingerly. Not concussed, although she would certainly have a bruise tomorrow if she didn’t get it treated. She didn’t fancy facing Arithmancy looking like a troll victim.

“That’s well beyond the point, isn’t it?” Al thrust all his fingers at Lily and wiggled in them in some strange, wordless curse. Rose seldom saw him get this agitated about anything, although if anyone could draw ire from the extremely mellow Potter sibling, it was likely to be Lily herself, especially building on top of his current moodiness. “This… this is sick.”

“Because it’s Malfoy?” Rose gave up trying to scrape bangs across the lump and peered at Al curiously. Was it possible for Al's moodiness to sink from being generally disagreeable to outright dislike for some undeserving individual? He'd never had a hard word for the Slytherin before today.

“Because she’s my sister,” he hissed.

“And it’s disgusting.” Jayne was ever helpful. “She sounds like a bloody moron with her prince and engagement talk. She’s fourteen, and Malfoy doesn’t dabble in Gryffindors.” None of the Slytherin boys did, really. In spite of years of peace between the houses, there still existed an unspoken divide between them that was only crossed by the bravest, stupidest, or those who were so hopelessly entangled in lust or infatuation that the judgement of their peers could not dissuade them. Lily happened to be all three.

“Jayne? Have a look at my forehead, please?” Rose let the girl probe her knot with cool, calloused fingers.

“Easy fix. It would be a beaut, though. You sure you want me to get rid of it?” Jayne was one of those strange breed that viewed a scar as a point of honor and a wound as a point of interest. With older brothers and a passionate love for Quidditch, she was also the best to call on for common room healings. “Murtlap essence, I think. I have some in my trunk.”

Al's ire had faded, and he watched the ministration of Rose’s wound with a detached look on his face. It almost felt like the moment to ask him what long-legged thing had been chewing on his bum lately, but Lily started up again with her nonsense and Al turned cross again.

“No, I think having more than a dozen bridesmaids is really show-offy, don’t you? You aren’t offended, are you? It’s impossible to have everyone in the wedding party, even though you know how much I'd love to have you. Maybe we can put you at a table with…”

Enough was enough.

“Lily!” Rose and Albus’s voices rang in unison across the common room, and nearly everyone stopped short to see what was happening. Those who hadn’t been a part of Lily’s little show had been forced to bear witness to it, and heads in the room turned to see what new drama would unfold.

Her hands stilled, and Lily curled her lip at the interruption. “What? You’re interrupting our conversation! It's rude.”

Without conferring, without even looking at each other, Rose and Albus shared a single sentiment. “Shut. Up.”

Lily slid from the back of the sofa, curled fists tucked tight at her sides and eyes burning with fury. Although Lily was quick to embarrass someone for her own amusement, she didn't handle it nearly as well as she dealt it out. In this case, it was a two-pronged attack, and her eyes darted between her two opponents before Lily finally settled on who she considered to be the greater offender. "You're not the boss of everyone, Rose."

That stung a bit, especially because Rose was certain she wasn't the only one in the common room who found Lily's actions to be ridiculous. Not only that, but she wasn't even the only one to tell the girl to knock if off. Why wasn't she spitting venom at her brother?

"I didn't say I..."

"You think you can tell everyone what to do all the time! You do!" Lily yanked off her slipper and threw it in Rose's direction, although the shoe bounced pathetically along the floor before coming to rest in front of the table.

Jayne reached out with one foot from her seat and touched the discarded slipper. "What is it with Potters and throwing shoes?"

"Technically, I kicked mine," Al offered with a careless shrug. He'd moved on.

Rose snugged her arms up around her, turning her body away from Al and Jayne and their playful banter. Neither of them deemed it necessary to rise to her defense, which left a resounding echo in the quiet common room. They agreed. By not speaking up, Al and Jayne were giving their tacit agreement that they thought she was bossy too. Her best friends were presented with an opportunity to speak on her behalf, to not allow horrible Lily to have the last word in a fight that was clearly not even about Rose, and they had failed. And she was absolutely, positively, definitely, 100% not going to let it upset her.

"Rosie." Yates Shacklebolt poked his head through the round common room door and gave her that broad grin he only put on for large crowds and professors. He couldn't possibly know what he was interrupting, and Rose tried not to hate him even a little bit for the way the knots of tension in the room seemed to unravel a bit at his entrance. "You ready for rounds?"

She nodded, voiceless for perhaps only the third or fourth time in her life, as she banished her books and things up to the dormitory. Yates was actually saving her from this moment of excruciating embarrassment. Actually the hero. Again.

She wanted to punch his stupid face.