"Three, two, one, go!"

Huddled under an invisibility cloak that James Potter inherited from his loaded parents, Rosalie and Sirius push said boy out of their hiding spot (read: the corner of the corridor) and into the hallway, where Lily Evans stands, strolling with her books.

"Please tell me he'll remember what I said," Rosalie mutters under her breath, wringing her hands. "I sacrificed so much for this opportunity."

Sirius scoffs, still disbelieving of her amazing abilities. "Like what, love?"

"My personal hygiene, for one," Rosalie grumbles, "considering that I'm touching a roach right now."

"Excuse me?" Sirius screeches, the warmth of his body still brushing hers. Ever since the project's completion, Rosalie did not fail to notice his extra snappiness, and the increase of him annoying her everywhere, almost like he's obsessed with her.

Honestly.

James, seemingly oblivious to their arguing at the end of the corridor, stops Lily. "Hey, Evans. Do you need help with that?"

"You actually suck, Edson —" Sirius begins.

"Shh!" Rosalie hisses, disgusted by Sirius's presence. "You're excused, Black. I can't hear them."

"Sod off," Sirius mouths angrily, and Rosalie rolls her eyes.

"I'm alright." Rosalie swivels her head towards a sighing Lily, who tugs on her red locks. James's face is obscured from Rosalie's view. "What do you want?"

"Well," Potter starts.

"He seriously can't be nervous now." Rosalie massages her eyebrows, her newly painted nails shimmering. "We went over this three times —"

The boy next to Rosalie perks up. "Siriusly?"

Rosalie flicks his shoulder. "Screw you!"

He flicks her back, silently laughing at her scowl.

James clears his throat, and both the students stop their fighting to watch him. "I read Pride and Prejudice? Ro — I mean, I heard it was your favourite book, and I liked it."

Lily blinks. "You did?"

"Huh," Sirius mutters. "Maybe reading favourite book wasn't a shit idea, love —"

"Told you," Rosalie crows, snickering at him.

"And," James adds, "I have a poem for you."

Rosalie's eyes bulge. "What."

This is not a part of the script. Why is he going off-page? Why now? And what if he wasn't nervous before? What if he was preparing to segue into this shit? No, no — that's horrid! She specifically told him not to use any poems —

Sirius snorts, covering his mouth. "Never mind. It was a shit idea — ow!"

Did Sirius say something to him? What an absolute dick —

"Is there someone there?" Lily asks, her eyes narrowing at the end of the corridor.

Rosalie inhales, her heart skipping a beat. Besides her, Sirius stiffens, and after nodding to each other in a surprising moment of solidarity, the two of them prepare to run. Despite the stupidly useful cloak over their heads that can easily jeopardise the incredibly important mission (trying to get the lovesick James to speak to Lily properly), Rosalie would rather run than fight.

"No," James says quickly. "There wasn't anyone when I walked here."

Sighing softly, Rosalie's about to relax before she remembers —

"The poem," James says, again.

Shit.

Lily's cautious smile morphs into a scowl. "I appreciate you reading Pride and Prejudice, but I'd rather not hear one of your poems again. The last time —"

"It isn't like the last time," James insists, running a hand through his tousled hair. He sounds almost desperate, hoping this will work — but Rosalie already told him that faking confidence isn't the best approach. "This time, you're going to fall for me."

Rosalie groans, slapping her forehead.

Lily lets out a sharp laugh. "In your dreams, Potter. If that's all you wanted from me, you can leave now. I'm not some trophy to win over with your stupid poems, and I'm tired of it."

Sirius winces from beside Rosalie, invisible to the naked eye.

In the corridor, James wilts. He is a flower that his family and friends built up and now the confidence bleeds from him. Nevertheless, it is deserved. Lily is not a doll to play dress-up with, nor is she some girl to be won over.

"This is getting bad — she's completely right," Rosalie mumbles. Her role of being a mediator is calling to her. "You know what? Hold this. Evans and I are having a girl talk."

Sirius blinks, scrambling for the cloak as Rosalie shrugs it off. "What? You can't — what are you — Edson!"

Dusting her clothes off from the Sirius disease, Rosalie walks up to James and Lily, the latter's face completely red from anger.

"Evans," she greets with a smile. "Are you alright? I couldn't help but overhear your argument."

Lily glances at Potter, before her emerald eyes meet Rosalie's dark ones. "I'm fine, thank you. He's just bothering me, as usual."

James says nothing, his smirk long gone.

"Well, James can be annoying and egotistical," Rosalie says, smiling when he gapes at her. What, does he expect Rosalie to defend him, after the stupid things he said? "And his heart causes him to make stupid decisions — even if he doesn't mean half of what he says. But you're right, Evans. You're not some catch that he should be chasing, either — you're a person with a life."

"Thank you, Edson," Lily says, smiling at her. "I just wish that he'd understand that."

With a sigh, she leaves, her books still in her hands.

Rosalie glares at James. "What the hell was that?"

"She loves my poems! That's what Sirius said, that girls love confidence —"

"No." Rosalie massages her eyebrows. "I like you, Potter, but imagine how Evans must be feeling. To her, all this — this niceness and the favours and the gestures — they're all just for an ulterior motive, for her to date you. She doesn't know that you're alright with being 'just friends'. You saying that she'll fall for you isn't helping at all — who the hell told you to say that?"

Sirius appears next to Rosalie and James. "I did. She likes him, Edson. We all know it. She'll miss him the moment that he stops giving her attention."

He sounds proud, easy-going, like he didn't just ruin his best friend's opportunity to talk to the girl he fancies, like he didn't encourage the behaviour that Lily will be James's.

"Of course." Rosalie scoffs, laughing coldly. "Of course you told him to say that. Of course you believe that — no, she won't! How stupid can you be? No one likes being told —"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "How do you know, Edson? The only date you've gotten is through a bet! No wonder —"

Rosalie clenches her fists. "How dare you."

"Sirius —" James starts.

"You have no experience," Sirius continues, "and you don't even know James, so —"

"Hah!" Rosalie gives him the dirtiest look she can muster, ignoring the shaking of her fists, the rage — "Experience? All your relationships have failed within a week, Black. Maybe that's why your advice is a piece of shit. It doesn't even work for you."

James whistles softly.

Sirius looks almost murderous as he snaps, "Don't you go there, you fu —"

"You went there first," Rosalie says sharply. "Do you know how humiliating it is? Do you know how it feels when they laugh behind your back and call you ugly, calling you easy, saying that you'll fall no matter what?" Tears spring from her eyes as she shoves Sirius, whose eyes are wide. "He laughed in my face, Black. I'm a dirty object that he won over and tossed away."

James says nothing, staring at the two of them like he's watching a tennis match.

Rosalie glowers at Sirius when he tries to speak. "God, you're a shit influence. Girls aren't objects to be won over. No one likes it when you're that persistent."

James speaks up, finally. "What do I do, then? To make everything better?"

Rosalie sighs, feeling a tumble of embarrassment in her stomach as she wipes her tears with her sleeve. "Apologise and say you want to start over — you fancy her but you're alright with staying her friend. And Black, stay the hell out of this. They may have been friends if not for you."

"Hey, what the hell are you on about?" he exclaims, speaking again. "This isn't even your business! James is my best mate —"

"Sirius." James sighs, looking defeated. "Enough. Rosalie's right."

She blinks at him, surprised that he even admitted it. "Really?"

He nods. "Yeah. I think ... I think she deserves much more than an apology. And Edson, I'm sorry about what happened to you."

Rosalie smiles weakly. "Don't be. You didn't cause it."

"Even if I didn't," James scratches the back of his head, "I was a piece of shit, wasn't I?"

"If you're waiting for a 'no', you'll be waiting for a while," Rosalie mutters.

James smirks slightly. "Fair enough. I'll apologise now, actually."

He waves shortly to the both of them, still forlorn and wilted, before disappearing. Rosalie heaves a sigh, preparing to leave as well, when Sirius turns on her.

"This is all your fault! Now he's pissed at me!"

"Oh, don't you start!" Rosalie defensively clenches her fists, ready to sock him. "I bet you gave him that advice! I could say better things to Evans while piss drunk!"

Sirius scoffs, although something in his eyes is off. "Oh, screw you, Edson!"

"I'd rather not!" she snaps. She gives him the finger before storming off. "I hope you rot in Azkaban, you Neanderthal!"

Sirius flips her off, his left fist clenched as she leaves.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

With bags under her eyes, Rosalie paces across her dorm room, Acacia reading a book on Rosalie's bed as she curls up in a pink blanket. Wrapping paper is scattered on the floor, a mess from when Rosalie was perfecting her gift she mailed to her sister, Delilah, earlier.

"Hey, everyone!" Rosalie recites, striding across the room with a surprising amount of vigour that she doesn't need. The breath mint Acacia gave her a few minutes ago fizzles on her tongue. "It's Rosalie, and I'll be your commentator tonight — no, it's not at night —"

"You'll be fine, Sal," Acacia reassures from the bed, peeking out from her book: The Faerie King's Pair of Handcuffs. "Just wing it."

Rosalie sighs heavily, flopping onto her bed. "Are you sure?"

"You were chosen for a reason," Rosalie's best friend says from next to her, flipping a page. "You'll be fine. Don't overthink it. Just make sure to insult Black a ton, and you're good!"

The raven haired girl immediately brightens, flipping her bangs. "You're right! They'll be so focused on his incompetence that they'll completely forget about my ... incompetence. Yes, that's right."

Cackling evilly, Rosalie ruffles Acacia's hair. "Thanks, Ace. It's a perfect plan."

"No problem, Lia," Acacia hums, pinching Rosalie's cheek. "Ooh, she's just found his handcuffs —"

"His what?" Rosalie asks, snuggling closer to her friend as her eyes roam the page. "Where did you even get this book?"

"My sister has a whole collection." Acacia's eyes quickly scan the page, before she turns to the next. "She hides them from Mother and Father underneath her bed, and I found them over the summer before our fifth year."

"I see," Rosalie says, nudging her friend. "I didn't know you liked to read this type of — ouch! Where did you get that breath mint?"

Acacia shakes her head sorrowfully, five more breath mints in her palm. "I always have breath mints with me, Sasa! How could you not know that about me?"

Rosalie blinks. "Did you just call me —"

Acacia clears her throat, redness blossoming on her pale cheeks. "So, about the book —"

"You just called me Sasa," Rosalie deadpans. "Like the sauce."

"The sauce?" A puzzled Acacia bookmarks her book, slams it, and turns to face her friend. "There's a sauce called Sasa?"

"What — no — it's salsa!"

Acacia snickers, flicking Rosalie's forehead. "I'm just kidding."

Huffing, Rosalie closes her eyes, the warmth of her blanket and best friend around her — both held close to her heart. And as they fall asleep to the candlelight, Acacia's book beside them, Rosalie only wishes for them to stay like this forever.

It's the next morning when she's bombarded by a vision of her flying class — how she failed to get the broom in her hand and how Sirius and James eyed her like she was a buffoon — as she gets ready, throwing on a jumper and applying lip gloss. It reminds her that the moment of peace she had yesterday will never be forever. Her visions will stab her thoughts, mind, and body; her period will continue to bleed into the next day, like it always does.

Sighing, Rosalie heads out onto the Quidditch Pitch, stuffing hash browns into her mouth that she'd cooked with the House Elves earlier as Acacia gave them a new lesson. At the Commentator's Booth stands McGonagall, prim, proper, and absolutely intimidating. A red, swirling char is right next to her, behind a stand with a mic.

"Please keep the language appropriate, Miss Edson," McGonagall says with a sigh. She gestures to the chair. "And tally the points accurately. I'm not expecting perfection, as it's your first time."

After nodding to the professor, Rosalie hesitantly takes a seat, relaxing into the chair. Okay. She can do this.

"When will everyone be here?" the younger girl asks, fiddling with the mic. The feedback whirs, and Rosalie immediately clamps her ears with her palms. "Sorry."

McGonagall's lip twitches. "They should be here within ten minutes."

"Alright." Rosalie gulps, licks her lips, and straightens. What is there to be afraid of? No one will care by the time she's done, only focused on the match. Yeah! She'll be fine! "Let's do this."

Never mind, she can't do this.

McGonagall stares as Rosalie tries not to slam her head on the desk or run out of the booth. The younger girl runs a hand through her brown hair. Remember, you can insult Sirius! Rosalie reminds herself.

Suddenly, she is well again.

As the students and teachers pile into the stadium, Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee, walks onto the pitch. Rosalie fiddles with her fingers, mouthing words that don't make her sound stupid.

"You should start now," McGonagall states quietly, and Rosalie nods.

"Welcome, everyone, to the first Quidditch match of the year. I'm Rosalie, your commentator, and our teams for Gryffindor and Slytherin will be arriving soon!"

Deafening cheers echo in the stadium as Rosalie's stomach twists. She takes a deep breath, and after McGonagall's encouraging nod, continues.

"First, we have Slytherin!"

A roaring applause cuts through Rosalie's next sentence.

"Well," Rosalie continues once the clapping dies down, "my friend's ex is on the team, and he's a nasty piece of shi — look," she adds hastily as McGonagall glares at her, "here they come! First is Fawley, their captain! Then Avery, Mulciber, Mensen, Black, Crouch, and the Rosiers. Screw you, Rosier — the ugly one, I mean. You suck."

"Edson," McGonagall warns.

Rosalie gives McGonagall an "I'm sorry!" look before continuing. Evan deserves that mention after what he did to Acacia.

"And we have the Gryffindor team!" Rosalie spots James, looking slightly forlorn; following Rosalie and Sirius's argument, James promptly apologised to Lily, who opted to ignore him out of spite, understandably. "The Captain is James Potter! Next we have Thomas, Vance, the Prewett twins, Mckinnon, and Black."

Rosalie says his last name with disgust. McGonagall's eyes widen when Sirius raises his hand, probably flipping Rosalie off. Well, joke's on him. She can't even see his stupid middle finger — but she still returns it, anyway.

"Edson!" her professor scolds.

"He did it first," Rosalie mutters. "Anyways, let the game begin!"

The Quidditch players fly off, and the games have a dull start. The Slytherins and Gryffindors are neck and neck, scoring as Rosalie recites random facts about each player. She finally feels the butterflies in her stomach release as her mouth moves without her mind needing to guide it.

"James is on his game today! Good for you, James. You're under the cloud that looks like a mushroom — ooh, just dodged a bludger! Wow, Fawley has it out for you! Good for her, though. She looks very pretty — anyways, 60 to 50, and Gryffindor's just gained the lead!"

She spots Acacia cheering as Drake scoffs, rolling his eyes with a tiny smile on his face. My God, can't they just get together already?

Rosalie turns her attention back to the match, tempted to start biting her nails like Delilah does. "Stupid Black blocked Mulciber from scoring with his stupid bludger. No one's hurt, thankfully. And oh, Mulciber is throwing a fit."

The said boy rides around on his broom, shouting at Jennifer Fawley, who sends him back with one look.

"And we're back! The Quaffle is being tossed around like a hot potato, Black is being stupid as usual, and oh! Mckinnon dyed her hair with blonde streaks over the summer, and it looks pretty good! Meadowes says it was a surprise for her."

"Thanks, Edson!" Marlene yells loudly from her position in the sky.

Loud laughter sounds in the stadium, and Rosalie's cheeks are tinted as she says, "Anytime, Mckinnon — oh, look: it's 70 to 50! Gryffindor's in the lead!"

The Slytherins boo as the other Houses cheer; Rosalie's spots Drake sitting next to Acacia, both of them watching the game with their mouths slightly open.

"Anyways," Rosalie drawls, shoving her yawn down, "here comes Sirius Black — Hogwarts' most hideous beater —"

"Edson!" McGonagall snaps.

"Sorry, Professor!" Rosalie takes a breath. "Anyway, Black hits a bludger as annoying as him to —"

"Edson!"

Sirius flips her off in the sky.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Rosalie pleads, "please don't give me detention — not again —"

McGonagall sighs.

As Rosalie hears peals of laughter, a smile makes its way onto her face. "70 to 60! Slytherin's Chaser, Avery, makes a goal past Gryffindor's keeper, Vance! And Rosier is looking a little salty, there — and Black hits him with a bludger! Ouch. Well, I hate Black, but I'm not mad about this one —"

"Edson!"

"Mckinnon is finding the snitch," Rosalie continues, eyes lighting up. "Her and Black's younger brother are racing for it! That shitty thing is tiny! How do you even do it — and Mckinnon catches the snitch!"

The Gryffindors cheer, standing up.

"Congrats, Gryffindor! If only Black didn't win. He's going to be so insufferable about it ..."

Rosalie turns off the mic, dusting off her clothes as she stands up. McGonagall looks at her like she committed a grave sin. Well, she did violate the "no inappropriate language rule."

Whoops.

"Sorry, Professor, I —"

"I have heard worse," McGonagall admits. "You did well."

With a nod, she leaves.

Rosalie giggles to herself, hands over her mouth. She did a good job? All she did was ramble, keep up with the score, and insult Black.

Skipping gleefully, Rosalie meets with Acacia, who nudges her, excitedly talking about how amazingly well she did. Drake is grumpy on their way back to the Hufflepuff Commons, muttering about how Gryffindor unfairly won.

"Black's having a celebratory party," Acacia says, flopped on the yellow couch. Drake is leaning on the sofa, sitting on the carpet, and Rosalie takes a seat next to him. "Apparently, his birthday was on Wednesday, so he's combining it and Gryffindor's win into one party. Do you want to go?"

Rosalie wrinkles her nose. "It's Black. He's gross. I doubt he invited me, anyway."

"You can crash his party," Drake says, playing around with his tie. "He'll hate to see you there. You might as well have fun."

"He'll hate to see me?" Rosalie grins, almost manically. "Well, then. What are we waiting for?"

i never really clarified rip but in this fic there will be more students than the author said there were in hogwarts, just so the marauders being popular actually makes sense!!

signed,
anisa