"Is it true?"

"Who's the father??"

"Rose Weasley? As in the Gryffindor nerd?"

"There's no way you're pregnant – who'd sleep with you?!"

These are some of the nicer whispers that have been following me around since Saturday. On Sunday I stayed shut behind the curtains of my four poster bed, but Monday morning came too soon and I had to emerge from my pit. That, and I was hungry. Avoiding everyone, I found myself drifting from class to class, keeping my head down and concentrating on my studies. None of the teachers asked me any questions or made me perform any spells all day – in fact, according to them, I'm practically invisible. Of course the stupid students of Hogwarts couldn't see it like that. I haven't gotten such strange stares since second year when I chained myself to the Herbology Greenhouses for two days straight. (You see, I was trying to stop the unfair treatment of Mandrakes, and I remembered Mum set up the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare when she was at Hogwarts, so I decided to set up my own society. It was called the Society for the Promotion of Extra Rights for Mandrakes – or S.P.E.R.M. I used to wear S.P.E.R.M badges and everything, but people used to stare at me and laugh like I was an alien or something. I'm not really sure why.)

Anyway, today is Tuesday and although I'm used to the malicious whispers that are circulating, they still make me angry. None made me as angry as the one Laura Phelps whispered to her Hufflepuff friend. And as a result of it, James and I have detention tonight. It's her own fault she now has horns growing out of her thick head – she was the one who announced to the entire school that I'm pregnant. She was the one who called me "Malfoy's Little Slut" in the corridor. Malfoy's Little Slut. That has to be the most horrible thing anyone has ever called me. It's hardly surprising that James hexed her before I had the chance to. All I did was throw my half eaten banana at her.

At eight o'clock, we head to Professor Longbottom's office. It's obvious he feels a bit bad about giving us detention because he knows us so well, but it's also in his job as head of Gryffindor house not to play favourites. He makes us go through discipline files from the past sixty years and make sure they're all in order – seriously, why doesn't he just make us watch paint dry? It would be so much more interesting. James and I work in silence, sorting out detention slips into different files. I'm still absolutely fuming after what Phelps said to me and I'm fantasising about chopping her hair off and forcing her to eat it.

"Um, Red, are you okay?" James asks as I shove random pieces of paper into folders.

"I'm fine," I snap, "I'm absolutely brilliant. Couldn't be better."

"You just put Henry Lawson's detention slip into Michael Patterson's file," James points out.

"Does it look like I care?" I hiss.

Silence.

I continue throwing detention slips into random files without even looking at what I'm doing. See, every student who has ever had detention in the last sixty years has a file in the discipline cabinet. That's a lot of students. We have to make sure each detention slip is under the right name. It's so boring, I want to cry.

"How's Al taking the news?" I ask after a few minutes.

We both know that Al has a very bad temper when provoked. He's even worse than James at times. And the look on his face on Saturday clearly stated that he was furious...but not with me, with Malfoy. I haven't really had the chance to discuss it with him since the news came out.

"He's..." James starts, "he's dealing with it in his own individual way."

That can't be good.

"Maybe I should go and talk to him," I suggest.

"That's probably not a good idea," says James quickly, "give him time to cool off. He's still pretty angry with...well, you know, the fact you slept with his best friend. I mean, it is kind of weird..."

"Why is it weird?"

"Because Scorpius and Al are like brothers...sometimes I think they're more like brothers than me and Al."

"That's not true," I say.

"I don't know...since he came to Hogwarts, he's felt like Scorpius was his family because they're both Slytherins. But you're like our sister, Red. You always have been. We're closer with you than with any of the others...I guess Al is just really protective of you. We both are. Believe me, if you'd slept with my best friend, I'd kick his arse from here to Australia!"

I laugh a little. James is so very like Uncle Harry sometimes. Even the way he looks now...I don't know, it's the way he grins or something. Even though people always say he looks like Aunt Ginny (except for his raven black hair obviously), I can definitely see a resemblance between James and his Dad. Maybe not as much of a resemblance as Harry shares with Al, but almost. He's got that devilish Potter charm mixed with a Weasley's sense of mischief – he's a menace in other words, but everyone loves him.

"He'll get over it," says James reassuringly, "as will all the brain-dead idiots who glare at you in the corridors."

"Thanks, Jay," I say.

We continue to work in silence again. After about an hour, I'm seriously contemplating jumping out of the window of this office, which is on the sixth floor. That is until I reached a file marked "Sirius Black" and another right beside it marked "James Potter". They were by far the two biggest files in the whole cabinet. I can't help but smile to myself. I open Sirius Black's folder.

Name: Sirius Black
Date: 7th September 1971
Year: 1
House: Gryffindor
Punishment: Cleaning the Potions Dungeons
Given By: Professor H Slughorn
Supervised By: Professor H Slughorn
Reason for Detention: Mr Black was purposely adding the wrong ingredients to James Potter's Potion and such careless behaviour resulted in the loss of Mr Potter's eyebrows.

I couldn't help but laugh. I opened James Potter's file and found a similar slip.

Name: James Potter
Date: 7th September 1971
Year: 1
House: Gryffindor
Punishment: Cleaning the Potions Dungeons
Given By: Professor H Slughorn
Supervised By: Professor H Slughorn
Reason for Detention: Mr Potter was purposely adding the wrong ingredients to Sirius Black's Potion, and now Mr Black can only speak Troll and Gobbledegook. His knowledge of the English language will need to be restored.

"Have you seen this?" I laughed and passed James the files. He laughed loudly as he read the punishments that the two men he's named after had to endure during their time at Hogwarts. I could see James' brown eyes shine in admiration for them. We had fun reading through James Potter Senior and Sirius Black's detention slips – they'd been in detention more than three hundred times during their seven years at Hogwarts. It seems they got detention at least once a month during fifth, sixth and seventh year for breaking curfew.

"I wonder how Dad's such a do-gooder with the father he had," says James, flicking through his grandfather's file.

"I wouldn't say he's that much of a do-gooder," I grin, pulling out a file marked 'Harry Potter'. James grins back and grabs the file.

"Ooh, bribery!" he laughs, "Woah, he got loads of detentions in 5th year from some person called Professor D J Umbridge...wonder what he did to deserve those..."

I notice a file marked 'Hermione Granger". It's only a small file but still, I didn't think Mum ever got a detention before.

James and I had great fun searching through the detention files looking up different punishments our parents, aunts and uncles had experienced. It's funny, but we couldn't find one belonging to Uncle Percy. Uncle George and his late twin, Fred have files the same size as Sirius Black and James Potter. Even Aunt Ginny had a fair few detentions in her day. Dad's file was about the same size as Uncle Harry's, which was a fairly decent size, even if it wasn't as big as Sirius Black's or James Potter's.

After another hour, Professor Longbottom comes back and tells us we can leave. I leave Neville's office feeling much better than I did when I went in. I see him smiling to himself as I leave – it's as if he wanted to show me that I'm not the first person in my family to make a mistake. A big part of me wants to go back and hug him, but that would be completely inappropriate. So I just break down in tears instead – as you do.

"Jesus Christ, Red, what's wrong?" James cries.

"N-N-Neville is just so s-s-sweet!" I sob. James raises his eyebrow wondering how the hell I can think the man who just had us in detention for two hours could be "sweet". I can't even stop myself from crying...seriously, what's happening to me? Since I found out I'm pregnant all I do is bawl like a baby – well, maybe 'baby' is a bit of an ironic word to use. But you get my drift.

On Wednesday, I visit Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. On the way there, five people point at me, six snigger, one says "is it really true?" and a group of Slytherin girls call me a slut. Really, it could be worse. They could have poked my eyes out with rusty nails. Madam Pomfrey is attending to a first year boy with swollen up fingers – it looks like an injury from some sort of weird plant from Herbology. I wait until she is finished before approaching her myself.

"Miss Weasley," she says kindly, clearly feeling sorry for me, "what can I do for you?"

"Um," I start, "can I talk to you in your office?"

She leads me inside and sits me down on a very comfy red velvet chair. She looks at me expectantly.

"I was wondering if you knew anything about adoption?" I ask.

Madam Pomfrey raises her eyebrows at me. If she starts trying to change my mind, I'm going to scream at her. I'll probably end up in the mental ward at St Mungo's, but I suppose I'd be amongst my own kind then. At least they won't call me a slut and stare at me like I'm from another planet. Honestly, it's like I'm the first person to get pregnant in the history of womankind.

"Adoption?" Madam Pomfrey asks sceptically, "Are you sure you've thought this through?"

"I've thought about nothing else," I say truthfully, "I was just wondering how I'd go about it."

Madam Pomfrey starts rooting through the drawer in her desk and pulls out a few pamphlets. She hands them to me. The first says "So You're Pregnant", the second "Pregnancy – Your Choices" and the third "The Joys of Motherhood". I'm going to throw up on this woman's desk if she even mentions the words "joy" and "motherhood" in the same sentence. Do I look joyful??

"You have options, Rose and I'm glad you're considering them all," says Pomfrey kindly, "but don't let what an idiotic bunch of kids say to you in the corridors affect your choice. This is your son or daughter we're talking about."

"No it isn't," I say quietly, "and it never was. I'm just carrying it. Biology means nothing when it comes to parenting. I'm not a mother."

Madam Pomfrey looks almost disappointed to hear me saying this. But it's the truth. I'm not a mother. In fact, I barely even like children. I remember when Auntie Audrey had Lucy – I was around five or six at the time so everybody expected me, as a little girl, to be completely fawning over her. But unfortunately, I seem to have taken after Dad in more ways than just the hair department. I'm extremely awkward around kids, not to mention the fact that I was a very boyish five year old because I spent most of my time with James, Fred, Al or Teddy. Babies just never interested me.

I take the pamphlets with me and leave the Hospital Wing with the full intention of finding a quiet classroom to do my homework in, away from the gossip and the unwelcome attention. But it seems like every student in Hogwarts is roaming the corridors trying to get a good look at The Pregnant Weasley Girl. Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors all stop to stare at me in the corridor. The anger is boiling up inside me until eventually – I crack.

"Why don't you just take a fucking picture, it lasts longer!" I scream. Everyone stops whispering. Some girls giggle to one another at my outburst and the boys look downright scared. I feel someone grab my arm and lead me away from the very silent, yet very crowded corridor.

It's Al.

He pulls me into the empty Transfiguration classroom and I'm now in floods of tears. It doesn't feel like I'm ever going to stop. When I see Laura Phelps I'm going to take pleasure in pulling each and every strand of hair out of her empty head!

"Don't cry, Rose," Al says, in a would-be soothing voice.

"My life is over, Al, how can I NOT cry?" I yell.

"Just calm down! It's not the end of the world...it's just those vultures feeding on the little bit of gossip in their boring lives," says Al calmly.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were the one who was facing the prospect of becoming a parent!" I cry.

I completely break down. Al catches me before I crumble into a heap on the floor and hugs me tightly. It feels a bit strange – Al never hugs me. He's not really into hugs. But now he's hugging me in a very big-brotherly, protective way – it's the way I wish Dad would have hugged me when he found out.

"You'll be fine, Rosie," he says, "You'll be just fine."

"Thanks Al," I mutter, even though I don't particularly believe him.

"So, um...how's....how's Malfoy?" I ask nervously.

Al stops hugging me and he looks really angry. I have a temper to match his so if he starts shouting, at least I can stand up for myself – I just really hope it doesn't come to that. Al shakes his head.

"Don't talk about him," he says.

"It's hard not to," I say, "I'm kind of carrying his spawn."

"You have such a way with words," says Al sarcastically.

"Al, don't be angry with him. He's your best friend...what we did was stupid and irresponsible and we're paying for it now. It was my fault just as much as it was his. I think he's going to need you now more than ever."

Al stays quiet for a minute, but then his facial expressions soften.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "it's just...you're practically my sister, you know? It's strange."

"Imagine how strange it'd be if he slept with your real sister," I say, trying to lighten the mood. Al's eyes widen in shock and he looks like he's about to puke.

"Don't...ever...say...that...again," he says in disgust.

"Sorry," I say, half-smirking. Al shudders.

"Thanks for not shunning me from your life," I say, "and for not killing Malfoy and ending up in Azkaban and starting a big chain-reaction of self-destruction throughout our entire family."

Al looks sort of confused but he nods anyway.

"Don't worry about it, Rose," he smiles, "everything's going to be okay."

He winks and leaves me alone in the classroom. Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve such a great family – other times, I feel like they're a curse bestowed upon me at birth. I've really screwed things up with them this time though. I've broken Mum and Dad up, I'm pretty sure Dom is angry with me, Grandad Arthur probably wants me hung, drawn and quartered for sleeping with a Malfoy, and Lily...

Bollocks.

I completely forgot about poor Lily! She and Dom have probably made a voodoo doll and are sticking pins into it right now. I don't really blame them. I'm the world's biggest bitch. I've been avoiding the Gryffindor common room every day this week. I spend most of my time in the library and go back to the dormitory really late when everyone is asleep just so I can avoid the awkwardness. I really don't want to talk to Lily and as for Dom...well, has she dumped Malfoy or not? Do I care if she has?

I return to the Gryffindor Common Room after my talk with Al to face the music. I'm going to have to eventually. Molly is there, as are Fred, James, Lily...and Dom. Dom doesn't even look up from her book as I walk in, but I know she's seen me out of the corner of her eye because her face has just visibly tensed up. Lily is trying her best not to look upset, but she's failing terribly. James smiles at me encouragingly and Fred just looks really awkward. It's Molly who speaks first.

"Rose...why didn't you tell us?" she asks.

"Just leave it, Molly," I say tiredly.

"We're your cousins!" she says, "You can tell us, you know. Especially me...I'm a prefect."

She really is so like her stupid mother, Auntie Audrey.

"Shut up, Molly," I snap, "Just because you're a bloody prefect doesn't mean you have all the answers! I'm a prefect too, remember?"

She looks shocked, but I don't care, I just storm past her and up to my dormitory. Luckily the dorm is empty. If Laura Phelps was here, I probably would have cursed her into a vegetable. I lie down on my bed and close the curtains around it and start to read the pamphlets. I don't actually see the point in reading them. My mind is made up – I'm giving the kid up for adoption.

When Friday finally comes, the news of my pregnancy is still fresh in people's minds, but they don't stare at me as much. Dom hasn't said a word to me and Lily leaves a room whenever I enter it. So to avoid all the awkwardness, I go to the library on Friday evening to do some homework – I'm just that sad. But on the way down to the library, I bump into Jenny Winters.

"Hi Rose," she says kindly, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I lie, "You?"

"Can't complain," she smiles, "Um...I heard about your situation."

Of course she bloody did. You'd have to be deaf not to.

"Yeah," I say awkwardly, "you probably think I'm a stupid slut too then."

"No!" she exclaims, "No, not at all! We all make mistakes! Anyone who calls you a slut is a damn liar and you shouldn't listen to them, Rose!"

Hey, I'm starting to like this chick.

"Thanks," I say.

"I'm serious. Don't put yourself down. You're being very brave doing what you're doing, I think. If it were me, I'd probably do something mental like lock myself in a bathroom or contemplate fleeing the country," she laughs.

Oh Jenny, what you don't know.

I fake a laugh.

"If you need anyone to talk to, you can talk to me," she says, "I don't judge."

"Thank you," I smile at her, "You know, apart from my Aunt Ginny, you're the only person who's said that to me."

"Well...what are friends for?"

Friends?

I wouldn't know what they're for, considering I don't have any. But if Jenny is willing to talk to me in public, I guess I can't complain. And anyway, she seems nice enough...

At least she's not plotting to kill me. That's always nice to have in a friend.

I'm happy returning to the common room knowing that I have at least one person out there who cares about me. But my good mood is soon squandered when I see Lily sitting alone by the fire, her red head buried in a book. She looks up and glares at me when I come in. I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Lily, will you please just yell at me and have it over with?" I say exasperatedly.

"What do you want me to say? You're a liar and that's that."

"A liar?" I cry, "Okay, here's some home truths for you – Scorpius Malfoy is over three years older than you! He's going out with Dom! He's nevergoing to like you Lily so just move on!"

Oh crap.

Why did I just say that? Why do I have to say EVERYTHING I think? Lily looks angry – she looks just like Uncle Harry does when he's angry. And believe me, you don't want to get on the wrong side of Uncle Harry like James did when he tried to use the Cruciatus curse on Al once. That wasn't pretty.

"You're nothing but a bitch, Rose! I used to think you were one of the more tolerable members of the family – I was clearly mistaken!"

She slams her book closed and runs up to her dormitory, almost knocking Dom over in the process, who is on her way down.

"What the hell was that?" asks Dom. I shake my head and flop down onto the chair. I wish I could just disappear forever.

"I just thought I'd let you know," says Dom, "Malfoy and I are still together...we're not breaking up."

My heart plummets to the floor – I wish it wouldn't.

"That's great," I say, forcing a smile, "I'm glad you're working things out."

"Good," she says, "I hope you're okay with this...because we really like each other."

I nod. "Of course I'm okay with it."

She smiles weakly and leaves the common room, probably off to meet the man of the hour. If I become any faker than I am now I'm going to turn into a bloody Barbie doll. I mean, seriously – "Of course I don't mind that you, my best friend and cousin, are going out with Scorpius Malfoy, father of my child, the first person I ever had sex with, the guy I have extremely mixed feelings for, the guy who makes my heart race faster than it does around Teddy Lupin...and of course I don't mind if you whack me over the head with a broomstick...because believe me, it would hurt less."