WICKED GAME!

" Rose decided that Draco Malfoy was a mystery, now more than ever. "

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9 SEPTEMBER ; 08:32 AM

IV.

Dear Remus,

It's Draco Malfoy.

Before you hear it from anyone else, the baby's father is Draco Malfoy. He only just found out, and mostly it was by accident. Of course I knew I had to tell him eventually, I'd just never figured out how quite yet... In any case, he knows now and I'm not sure what's going to happen or who's going to find out and, well, I needed you to hear it from me.

And I'm sorry.

When you read this, I hope you're not angry, and if (when) you tell Sirius, I hope he's not either. I know this isn't going to look good to anyone in the old crowd, and I'm sorry about that, too. I am loyal — to Harry and to our cause and to the Light and all of it. I hope that's never in doubt. Would you stick up for me if anyone starts to question that?

I guess I expected people to treat me different once they heard I was pregnant, but it's even worse than I would've thought. The professors are so disappointed, and Ron's mad at me because it's bloody Malfoy. Everyone keeps telling me what a horrible mistake I've made, but honestly, Remus, I don't think I have. No matter what, I don't regret this. Everything in the world is so entirely sh—t right now, but I think this baby might be the one good thing in my life at the moment... even if its father is a Malfoy.

Oh God.

Sometimes I'm not sure if I ever know the right decision until I've made all the wrong ones.

All my love, your goddaughter,
Rosie L. Potter

𓆙

Today was Rose's first appointment with Madam Pomfrey since coming to Hogwarts.

The anticipation of it nearly had her in fits, making her stomach churn and her palms sweat and her heart pound. It was not pretty. Not at all. With her stomach the way it was, she could barely eat and instead poked rather lamely at her jam—covered rye toast, leg bouncing underneath the table. The anxiety was rippling off her in waves, and she knew her brother and friends could sense it.

Neville was the first brave soul to break the silence, "I'm sure it's going to be all right, Rosie."

"Sure," she murmured glumly.

Harry and Ron exchanged a hopeless look.

As usual, Hermione came to the rescue, "What time is the appointment again?"

"Madam Pomfrey said 8:30."

Humming, the wild—haired girl pulled out her vine wood wand and cast a quick 'Tempus'. In the ensuing silence, no one said a word. It was 8:32. Rose wondered if she put it off long enough, everyone would just forget about the whole thing. Maybe letting the kneazle out of the bag so early was a mistake...

"We could walk you?" Harry finally broke the tense silence, leaning a bit more into his little sister.

"Yea," Rose exhaled heavily, nodding quickly, "Please."

"Should we... go now?"

Biting her lip, the girl glanced at the conjured clock and nodded just once more — it was all she could manage. As one, the small group of Gryffindors pushed themselves up, but before she could fully get to her feet, black spots invaded her vision and she was forced to drop back onto the bench or risk collapsing. In the middle of the Great Hall. Like her life couldn't get any worse. She fell back with such a heavy thud that almost everyone at the table noticed. And if they didn't notice that, they most certainly noticed—

"Oh, Rose!" Hermione cried a little too loudly, reaching across the table, which really wasn't any help at all — though Rose did appreciate the sentiment.

"Sh—t, sh—t." Harry was muttering panickedly, crouching beside her. "You okay, Rosie?"

"Yea." Rose replied, still a bit dizzily. She pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled deeply, "Must have stood up too fast, s'okay."

"You really should've finished your toast. Maybe had some eggs?" Harry fussed like usual, as he only ever did with his little sister. "I should've made you eat, d—mn."

"I'm fine, Mum," Rose teased, making Harry's cheeks flush.

"The only 'Mum' here is you," he teased back, though much — much — quieter, and when literally everyone shot him dirty looks, he winced, "Too soon?"

"Way too soon... But I asked for it, didn't I?"

"Yea. Are you okay to get up?"

Rose took only a second to take stock of herself, pleased her head had stopped spinning at least. She was more than ready to be done with all of this fuss and her brother's hovering, and all the stares prickling at the back of her neck weren't exactly comforting. So, she blinked hard a few times and took in a few more deep breaths.

"I think so."

Rose stood again with much more determination, met the eyes of her friends, and gave a firm nod. They then moved from the Gryffindor table and moved (purposefully slowly) out of the Great Hall, much to her relief. They had barely made it ten steps down the corridor when:

"Potter!"

Together, both Potters whipped around to find none other than Draco bloody Malfoy striding towards them. Determination was rolling off him with every step. Rose went immediately rigid, and Harry wrapped an instinctive arm around her waist to tug her a bit closer. Malfoy clocked this movement with a narrowing of his eyes, but he didn't say anything until he stood right in front of them. 

"Potter." The boy said again, eyes only for her, not bothering to glance at her brother or friends.

"Malfoy." The girl replied evenly, having a hard time keeping eye contact.

Ron scowled and stepped forward, "What do you want?"

"What do you think, Weasel?" Malfoy rolled his eyes, all without removing his gaze from Rose. "I want to accompany Potter here to whatever appointment she has scheduled for the... child."

"How did you know about that?" Rose blurted quickly, eyes widening.

"I have my ways." Malfoy told her with a very annoying smirk. "In any case, I'm here now and I'm ready to escort you."

"Like hell," Ron growled.

Hermione huffed, "It's Rosie's choice!"

"I agree—," Neville added quietly.

"No, Ron's right," Harry agreed readily, glaring hard at Malfoy, "Like hell!"

"At this point, no one will be able to go with her!" Hermione groaned, casting another Tempus. "It's nearly time for Potions!"

Rose cut in, already exhausted and she hadn't even seen the bloody mediwitch yet. "You all just go to class. I'll be fine on my own."

"What? No way, someone should go with you," Harry insisted quickly, ignoring everyone else for now.

"Yes, and that someone should be..." Malfoy stopped and cleared his throat, clearing fighting a flush when he finished with, "Someone who actually contributed to the situation."

Rose's cheeks flared red, almost as red as her hair.

Neville looked halfway faint.

Harry glared genuine daggers at him, "Don't think I need reminding of that, Malfoy."

It was a miracle Malfoy didn't go up in flames, truly.

Rose sighed and ignored everyone else to ask the Slytherin, "Why the hell do you even want to come?"

Very stiffly, very firmly, Malfoy replied, "I think I'm entitled to that."

"You? Entitled?" She couldn't help but mock, "No sh—t."

He narrowed his eyes and gritted through his pearly teeth, "Are you going to allow me to come or not?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

When Malfoy waved a hand onward — mockingly polite, Rose scowled and marched away from her brother and friends, forcing herself not to look back. It felt a bit like walking to plank, if she was being honest. She certainly felt sea sick enough for that to be true.

Philo, feeling her rapid pulse, coiled tighter around her wrist — strangely comforting.

For a long while, she walked beside the boy, neither of saying a word, neither of them even looking at one another. Thankfully, almost everyone was still at breakfast this time of the morning so the hallways were mostly empty and they barely came across anyone who would ask questions on their way to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was striding across the Wing with a stern expression already firmly in place when they pushed inside.

"You're late, Miss Potter— oh, and... Mister Malfoy. This is a surprise."

"Hi," Rose muttered awkwardly, selecting the cot in the farthest corner to sit down on.

Malfoy — for his part — didn't respond, suddenly looking a bit too uncomfortable and shell—shocked for that. It was as if being in the actual Hospital Wing made it real for him.

Pomfrey frowned at the boy, "Mister Malfoy, are you quite all right? You look rather pale."

"I'm fine," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"You don't look fine, Mister Malfoy, no, not at all." The mediwitch tutted and shook her head in disapproval at his state. "Do you require a Calming Draught? A Stomach Soother, perhaps?"

Growling now: "Stop pestering me, you horrible witch, I said—,"

"Dearest," Rose cut in oh—so—sweetly, "If you're gonna pass out, perhaps you should sit down?"

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy snarled at her.

Rose smiled to herself, pleased at getting at least some kind of reaction. Now, he looked less pale and he was even taking a step or two closer to the cot. Good. Unfortunately, this had the rather tragic side—effect of getting him talking.

"Can we be... interrupted in here?"

The mediwitch thinned her lips at his disrespectful tone, but she replied, "For this appointment period, I have sealed the Hospital Wing and warded it against any interruptions. I understand there's a need for... discretion at this time."

Neither Rose nor Malfoy dared to look one another in the eye.

"Well now, perhaps we should 'get down to business', as the Muggles say." Malfoy sneered at this, Rose was determined to ignore him in favour of listening to the Madam's first question, "How have you been feeling lately, Miss Potter?"

"Uhm, all right, I guess," Rose replied, feeling awkward about lying down when everyone else was standing. She drummed her fingers against her sternum to let out some of that frantic energy. It didn't help. "Bit woozy."

"Ah. That could be a number of things with you. You already have low iron levels, not to mention your low blood sugar. Since you're already on the supplement potions, all I recommend for now is keeping a snack with you, dear, and make sure you're eating enough during meals. If the problem persists, ask me again."

"All right. Also?" Rose cleared her throat, awkwardly looping a lock of hair around her finger, "Just asking for a friend — uhm, if someone happened to be pregnant and an Animagus, would—?"

Malfoy's eyes darted to her face, startled but silent.

"Absolutely not, Rose Potter." Madam Pomfrey scowled down at her in disapproval, hands propping on her hips, "Shifting form while pregnant can cause significant harm to the development of a fetus!"

"Okay, okay!" Rose held her hands up in surrender, face as sweet and guileless as always. "That's fine. As I said... just asking for a friend."

"Hmm." Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at the girl.

Through all this, Malfoy was stock—still and rigid, looking like he wanted to Apparate out of the room at any second. Then, apropos of nothing at all, he announced: "I told my parents."

Rose jerked so much that she nearly fell off the bloody cot. Curling her long nails into the thin mattress and sheets, she asked a bit warbly, "And... how was that?"

"As one would expect."

Honestly, Rose had no idea what the hell to expect when it came to a family like the Malfoys.

"In fact, my father suggested that you release a statement."

Now, Rose really was considering falling off the bed. "What?!"

"He said that we may be able to avoid any potential... discomfort... in the future if you told the press now." Malfoy paused, his brow twitched, and after a moment, he added, "Of course he also said you're to leave my name out of it."

Rose immediately snapped in response, "Oh, I f—cking bet he did!"

"Language, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey chided, though she looked like she rather agreed and was struggling to mind her own business.

Malfoy exhaled heavily through his nostrils. "Allow that to be my first act of... 'fatherhood', Potter, drafting your release."

"I think you've performed your first act of fatherhood already," Rose grumbled, plucking at a loose thread on the blankets.

"Mmhm," Pomfrey idly hummed, waving some complicated charm with her wand, looking distinctly distracted even though she so clearly wasn't.

"Fine, then." Malfoy glared back at both of them. "Then allow my second act to be assisting you in making a statement to the press."

"I'm not making any bloody statement to the press, Malfoy dearest, but if you'd like to, have a lovely time, as long as you — what did you father say again? oh yes — leave my name out of it."

"Must I really instruct you on the first rule of damage control, Potter?"

"Let's be clear, Malfoy," she hissed back, gold eyes narrowing in on grey ones, "I don't need you instructing me on a d—mn thing, and the next time you refer to this pregnancy as damage—,"

"The rule is this: one must get the information out early, get it out oneself, do it on one's own terms."

"That's three rules, you prat!"

"Potter." Malfoy growled, "I am not joking. We must think of—,"

A strange sound filled the room, cutting him off mid—sentence while they both looked round quickly for the source. Madam Pomfrey had finished casting whatever charm, and now a soft white glow was hovering over Rose's stomach, moving and warbling and pumping. It sounded... It sounded like... Thumpthumpthumpthump.

"What is that?" Malfoy asked faintly, "Do you hear that?"

Rose felt her breath catch, "That's... Is that...?"

"That is your child's heartbeat," Madam Pomfrey told them gently, a smile breaking through her usual stern expression.

Thumpthumpthumpthump.

Quick and steady, like a little rabbit's.

"It's so fast," Rose said, hushed.

Malfoy's now narrowed eyes darted to the mediwitch's, half accusingly, "Is it supposed to be that fast?"

"Yes, it's quite as it should be."

Rose could've sworn she heard a sigh of relief from Malfoy and she looked sharply up at him in surprise.

At her gaze, he stiffened and upturned his nose at her, "I was merely curious."

Madam Pomfrey smiled once more, this time in amusement. "Strong and steady, although I must be honest with you, Miss Potter, there may be dangers associated with pregnancy at your age and in your condition."

Rose swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"Pregnancy is risky for any fifteen year old, not to mention for one with longstanding health issues..."

Malfoy shot Rose an inquiring look that she stiffly ignored.

"This will need to be delicately treated. Any additional stress is not going to help..." The mediwitch pointedly added. "But so long as you are sensible and attend our check—ups as scheduled, the child should be born healthy."

Finally, some good bloody news.

𓆙

Since the appointment with Madam Pomfrey, Malfoy had been watching her like a hawk.

The bloody prat noticed her in the halls when she looked particularly nauseous and sneaked Stomach Soothers into her pocket when he passed. He watched her across the Great Hall, seeming to take stock of how much she was eating — or really, of how little she was eating. During class, he passed her extra croissants under the table, and when she shot him an unimpressed glance, he merely raised an imperious brow and turned back to his Charm work.

Rose decided that Draco Malfoy was a mystery, now more than ever. He could change from cruel to kind in a blink of an eye, and she had no idea what to make of it. He seemed to be making an effort for Rose herself, but she still saw him scoffing or snickering or rolling his eyes when her friends spoke. How could he be so sweet in one moment and then so very horrible in another? Which was the real Draco Malfoy? Were either of those faces even who he really was?

It was confusing, and honestly the last thing she needed right now was more confusion.

"He's being almost nice." Rose mused, "It's weird."

"I don't trust it," Ron huffed and moved to avoid colliding with a Third Year.

Harry glared across the courtyard at Malfoy. "I don't trust him."

"Maybe he's trying..."

Harry gave her a thin, worried frown. "Rosie, I understand it happened because you were, you know, drunk, but you can't seriously expect to be friends with Malfoy, can you? He's Malfoy."

"I know." Rose sighed hard, fisting a hand into her hair, "He's treated all of us like shite on the bottom of his shoe for years; I remember, I was there."

"And his dad is a Death Eater; everyone in his family probably is!"

"They're Dark as they come," Ron agreed with a growing scowl, "And even if they weren't, you've heard all the things he's said about my family — and about Harry."

"End of the day," Harry levelled her with a serious stare, "Malfoy's still the prat who called our mum a Mudblood."

"And me too," Hermione quietly added from her other side.

Rose's chest ached with guilt and anger and longing and too many feelings for her to contemplate.

"I said I know." She set her jaw and nodded firmly, "But it's still his— You Know What. And I don't have to be his friend for that to be true."

Rose's one escape from the confusing world would always be music. A widely known (but so far proven) fact: past curfew, the Potter twins could hardly ever be found in bed. Harry liked to explore and Rose liked to roller skate. This, too, she stole from Dudley when it was discovered that he had no sense of balance whatsoever. For years, she had rolled through the endlessly long corridors of the castle for hours on end, jumping down the shorter staircases, exploring darkened hallways and tunnels long gone out of use. 

It was a good distraction for the shite going on, at any rate. 

Not to mention having wheels on her feet was certainly convenient when trying to outrun Snape or Filch or that blasted cat, Missus Norris. Even Prefects sometimes took part in the post—curfew hall monitoring, and now with Ron and Hermione selected, it was rather nice to have a few friends on the inside who wouldn't at all mind Rose making use of the corridors after hours. Unfortunately, not every Prefect was her friend.

The first night she ran into Malfoy, Rose literally ran into him.

She'd taken a corner a little too quickly, and then — slam! — she'd collided straight into his chest. She would have fallen on her arse if he hadn't leapt and caught her, but even then, they both almost fell again, because her feet happened to be covered with wheels, and so it was a bit hard for both of them to maintain balance. The whole disaster would have been hilarious if it had been anyone else.

Alas.

She missed the first part of his rant because she still had her headphones on, and only when she tugged them around her neck did she hear him shouting, "—Completely mental?! What the hell are those things anyway? Some sort of Muggle torture device?"

For some reason, she never considered how wizards might not have them, so she endeavoured to be patient when she explained, "They're roller skates."

"And what the hell do you think you're doing with those?!"

Rose blinked, nonplussed. "Skating...?"

"Skating." Malfoy repeated with a bit more sass than she appreciated. "Do you realise how dangerous that looks? You could fall and crack your skull or break your ribs or anything! Honestly, this cannot possibly be safe for you or—," his eyes darted even as his voice grew suddenly hushed, "—The baby!"

Immediately, Rose flushed. She really hadn't realised that. And she felt impossibly stupid.

"I— well, I guess not."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her.

"Sorry." She blushed further, and when he didn't stop scowling at her, she snapped, "I'll stop skating, all right? God."

Finally, Malfoy relented with a huff. "You shouldn't be out after hours, anyway. Someone else might have caught you and given you detention."

"So you're not, then?" Rose arched a brow, smiling slightly.

This time it was Malfoy flushing, and he shifted a bit uncomfortably. "It just seems bad form to give detention to... the mother of my child."

Rose bit her lip to hold in a bigger smile, refusing to blush again. There were only so many times a person could reasonably do that in a conversation without it getting completely humiliating. Still... she liked the sound of that in Malfoy's voice: mother of my child.

"All right, what is that thing?" He asked suddenly, pointing towards her hand.

Rose blinked and glanced down at the blue music player in her palm. She supposed Pureblood wizards didn't have anything like this either.

"It's a Walkman."

"It doesn't walk," Malfoy arched an unimpressed brow in return, "And it hardly looks like a man."

Rose smirked in amusement and resisted the urge to laugh. "No, I have to agree with you there. But it's a music player that can walk around with men — or women, in my case." She paused and scrunched her nose. "The name sounds a bit sexist now that I'm thinking about it."

Malfoy looked cautiously curious now, studying the Muggle device.

Rose's smirk stretched into a genuine smile, and she held out an earphone, "Want a listen?"

For all his apparent disgust with the Mugglish device, Malfoy promptly moved close and accepted the earphone she was offering. When he had it secured in his ear as she showed him, Rose clicked one of the few silver buttons on the side and then...

London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared, and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come outta the cupboard, ya boys and girls

Rose knew quite a lot about Wizarding music, but even if she didn't, she could guess it had nothing on the Muggles' from the way Malfoy's entire face instantly lit up over the sound and the rhythm and the words.

"That is fantastic." He was talking a little too loud over the music still blaring in their ears. "What is it?"

"The Clash," Rose replied, holding back a laugh. "It was one of my mum's favourites."

He started tapping his foot along to the quick beat, both of their heads bobbing with neither of them noticing. When the outro played out, Malfoy slipped the Walkman from her hand with narrow—eyed suspicion.

"Amazing you get to carry music with you, play it whenever you'd like. And you're saying Muggles invented this?"

"Yep," she answered, halfway stern.

"How?" Malfoy didn't seem to notice her tone though because he was too busy turning the Walkman over and over in his hands, inspecting it like one might a particularly interesting artefact. "Is it more of that elec—trickery?"

Rose couldn't stop herself from snorting now. "It's called 'electricity', and uhm, sort of. It's got batteries. I dunno really how it works, to be honest."

"But how does it work here? I thought Muggle things didn't work around magic."

"I'm not quite sure. Loads of people have asked, but," she shrugged, "For me, it just does."

"Fascinating."

And the way he was staring at her, she thought he might actually mean that.

They both jumped at the sudden sound of footsteps quickly approaching around the corner.

"Quick, hide—,"

Malfoy more or less shoved Rose behind a nearby tapestry, and she had to quickly grasp onto the jutting bricks to keep her balance on the skates. She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath, wishing that she'd swiped their dad's Invisibility Cloak from Harry before she left this evening.

"You find someone, Draco?" It was Parkinson, Rose could tell instantly by that high—pitched sultry voice the Slytherin girl always forced.

"You think I would be standing here doing nothing, if I did?" Malfoy's tone was surprisingly hostile.

"Touchy, touchy." Parkinson was very close now, voice louder than ever, and Rose could bet she was only a few inches from Malfoy, "I just thought I heard you talking to someone."

"One of these d—mned portraits. They get more and more out—spoken every year. Honestly, I don't know why Dumbledore doesn't just set fire to the whole lot of them."

"Because he's a fool, that's why." Parkinson snorted through that pug—nose of hers. "Well, I'm tired. I'm done for the night."

"Are you?" Rose could practically hear Malfoy's rolled eyes. "It's barely yet ten, Pansy."

"So what? Are you going to tattle, Draco?"

"Politely f—ck off, Pansy."

Rose blinked, surprised.

Another laugh, high and girlish, echoing further and further away as she sashayed down the hall, "Night—night, Draco."

A pause, and when her footsteps had finally faded away, the tapestry was yanked to the side and Malfoy peered in at her with wide, wondering eyes.

Rose's entire body sagged while she heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that. Parkinson would've given me detention for a month."

"Mm, and enjoyed it immensely."

Rose snorted and began unlacing her skates, startled when Malfoy suddenly extended a hand to provide balance. She hesitated for only a moment and ignored the way her skin tingled when she gripped his fingers. Finally, when both skates were finally off, she straightened, released his steady hand, and gave an awkward smile.

"Well. Erm, I ought to be getting back to the Tower."

"Yes, good idea." He replied stiffly. "I heard rest is good for pregnancy."

God's sake. She huffed and rolled her eyes good—naturedly. "Goodnight, Malfoy—,"

"I'll escort you."

Already a few steps away, Rose paused and glanced back with both brows raised, "Really? Don't you have Prefect duties to attend to? It sounded like you're on your own for the rest of the night."

"And so no one will know what I get up to." He fell in step beside her, shrugging one shoulder. "Besides, Potter, you're all sorts of trouble. Someone better watch out for you."

Rose rolled her eyes again, skates swinging from her grip as they strode along the dark corridor, lit only by the light of Malfoy's hawthorn wand. Her thread—bare socks left her toes cold against the cold stone, but it wasn't so bad. What was bad was the silence. It was so stifling and awkward, Rose decided to take a risk.

"We could listen to more on our way?"

Draco wordlessly held out a hand.

Smirking, Rose held out a headphone, and for their entire journey up to Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor, they listened to The Clash and The Smashing Pumpkins and Pink Floyd.

Thus began their tradition of meeting up after curfew to patrol while listening to music. They talked sometimes, just about little things, about the music or their homework or even how bloody annoying Umbridge was. They never talked in public, or during the day when someone could spot them. Malfoy was still as annoying as ever when it came to his hovering, always watching her closely, handing her extra food or potions and even one time — when he picked her up outside the Tower — a thermos of chamomile tea because he read that it was good for nausea.

It was still odd, of course, but things between them were starting to be... good.

Yes. Things were very good.

𓆙

Potter pounced on Draco the very second he left History of Magic.

He barely had time to say: "Oh, what the f—," before two hands were fisting into his robes and he was being dragged into a shadowy corner. The scarhead backed him into a corner, making him grunt when one arm pressed hard against his chest and a wand jabbed painfully at his throat.

"Don't say a word, Malfoy."

Draco arched one, very unimpressed brow. "Planning on assassinating me, Potter? Our rivalry's quite famous; they'll know it was you."

"Shut up, I said."

Potter shoved him harder against the wall once more, and with a huff, Draco obeyed — not because he was worried, the wonder boy Gryffindor didn't have it in him, but he was just eager to get this over with and go to lunch. Potter glanced over his shoulder to where his pet Weasel (surprise, surprise) stood by the wall, likely looking around to see if anyone had noticed his rather uninspired kidnapping.

"We're clear," Weasley finally announced.

"Splendid. So can we move this along?" Draco sighed wearily, condescension practically dripping from his tone, "They're serving lamb chop today, and I am positively famished."

"You can go stuff yourself as soon as I've had my say." Potter hissed, looking angrier than he had seen the Gryffindor in a good long while, "I've seen you with Rose, Malfoy, don't think I haven't noticed and I don't like it, so whatever it is you're planning, it needs to stop now."

The bloody audacity. Draco scoffed a rude laugh. "All that fame has gone straight to your big head, Potter, if you think that you can tell me what to do."

"Rose is my sister."

"Rose isn't your property," Draco snapped, "You don't decide what she does or who she sees."

Potter looked faintly disgusted at his insinuation and he snapped back, "I don't have the power to stop her from seeing you, and I wouldn't ever try, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you don't hurt her."

Something about that — that blatant assumption — made Draco's blood boil. He growled and shoved hard against Potter, making the other lighter boy stumble back a few steps. Now, both Potter and Weasley had their wands aimed in his direction, but he hardly cared at all.

"I would — never — hurt her. Or my child. "

"Maybe you wouldn't, but I know for d—mn sure that Voldemort would." Potter snarled, seeming genuinely vicious especially when Draco winced at the Dark Lord's name. "I'm not convinced this isn't some sick plot schemed up by your dad and his Death Eater buddies, and if that's the case, then you need to decide what side you're on."

Draco's eyes narrowed furiously, "How dare you—,"

"Just shut up! You say you don't want to hurt Rose and the baby? Then don't." Potter dropped his wand but didn't release Draco from that burning glare. "Pick her side or leave her the hell alone. Because until you do, I'm just gonna assume you're planning on using her the way you do everyone else."

With a sneer befitting the name of Malfoy, Draco straightened up from the wall and smoothed down the front of his robes, giving a disdainful sniff.

"Then I suppose, Potter, I will just have to prove you wrong."

𓆙

As the weeks passed, Rose started to wonder just what the hell they were doing. Whenever the baby was mentioned, it was only in the abstract, or in regards to her health or theirs. They had never talked about the future, or what either of them wanted to do about the baby. She kept wanting to ask, but every time they met up to walk and listen to music, she lost her nerve.

Rose didn't possess much Gryffindor bravery, but she used what little she had to confront him head—on.

It just so happened to be after Charms class that she worked up the nerve. Rose waited until after Flitwick and their fellow students left the class to speak to Malfoy who quickly picked up her need to talk. They both lingered in their seats, purposefully taking their time organising their things and packing their bags, and only once her brother had finally left (with a worried frown), did they break their silence.

"Is something wrong?" Malfoy's eyes scanned her rapidly. "Are you in pain? Or is it the—?"

Rose smirked, briefly amused, "No, Malfoy. Nothing wrong, I'm — we're — fine. Just..." She drew in a deep breath and decided to go for it, ripping it off like a plaster. "I've been wondering: what's your plan exactly? We've been talking and you've been helping me, you know, with the appointments and the food and... Is it— that is, do you... Do you want the baby or—?"

"Of course not."

Rose barely resisted the urge to flinch at his harsh tone.

"Right." She said, levelly, "Then what are you doing?"

"I'm simply... cleaning up my messes."

Suddenly offended, Rose opened her mouth to refute this when she stopped and blushed. "It is a bit of a mess, isn't it? Usually, I think we're both very in control of ourselves so I'm really not sure what came over us. I guess they were right what they said about Firewhiskey—,"

In a flash, Malfoy's eyes had gone wide in something akin to horror, "You were drunk that night?"

"Well, yea. So were you..."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," Rose sounded a lot less confident than she thought she'd be.

Malfoy drew back from her, jaw clenching and face even paler than usual. He tried to step around her but she blocked his path with a tilted head and concerned expression. He ignored that. If anything, he was looking like he'd very much like to shove her out of the way if that didn't mean touching her. Instead, he merely loomed over her with a stone—cold expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he sneered down at her, "Apart from the fact that you are in my way."

"No, something is wrong, Malfoy." Rose countered cautiously, studying his face. "I must have said something wrong because now all then sudden you're trying to push me away, and—,"

"Is that so?" Malfoy replied lightly, cruelty dawning in his indifference. "I had no idea you knew me so well."

She blushed darker, caught between embarrassment and anger. "No, I just— I didn't expect you to react like that."

"No? What were you expecting then, from this ideal version of me you've apparently constructed in your head? Some kind of romantic declaration? My lifetime love and loyalty? Honestly, Potter, is your sexual experience so limited that you're confusing a one—off with an actual relationship?"

When Rose flinched, mock understanding flashed across Malfoy's face and he smirked.

"How unfortunate. Won't all of Slytherin be amused."

Rose rubbed hard at her nose when she immediately turned away and began to gather her stuff from the desktop. Her stupid, traitorous hands were trembling when she snatched up her books, notes, and quill to shove harshly into her bag. Malfoy watched her, saying nothing. When she very cautiously glanced back, gold briefly meeting silver, he whirled around and started towards the exit.

"A pleasure, as always," Malfoy called over his shoulder on the way out the door.

"Piss off," she whispered to his back, just to get the last word, even if it sounded broken and pathetic.

Malfoy kept walking and he didn't look back.

As soon as he was out of sight, Rose dropped her bag and buried her face in her hands while groaning aloud to herself. God, how stupid could she be! She didn't know what she expected. It wasn't like her and Malfoy were actually friends, what had happened between them had been an accident, a mistake, a need that was fulfilled. It wasn't any of her business what was wrong with him or what he was thinking. It wasn't any of her business what he was truly like or what he wanted with the baby. And if, on his way to the dungeons, Malfoy stopped to punch a wall until his knuckles split and bled, well, that wasn't any of Rose's business either.

Rose was so busy trying not to cry that she didn't see the girl hiding in the shadows, who had just heard every—bloody—thing.

𓆙

The Fifth Year Slytherin girls congregated in the first floor bathroom.

Millicent Bulstrode walked past the many stalls with determination in her stride, a cunning smirk tugging at the side of her pouty mouth. Since the Dark Lord returned, she'd had the worst summer and the start of the year wasn't going much better, but overhearing that particular conversation between Draco Malfoy and Rose Potter in the Charms classroom had really turned things around.

It was about d—mn time, too.

She didn't have anything against Rose Potter personally, mind — other than her last name and general Gryffindor—ish—ness, but she certainly had something against Pansy Parkinson. And if Potter was mere collateral damage, then so be it.

Besides, would she really be a Slytherin if she didn't take that chance?

Pansy Parkinson was admiring her rather puggish features in the last mirror down the line, turning her face this way and that to catch the best light. Merlin, did Millicent hate her bleeding guts.

"Say, Pansy," she began benignly, checking her own hair just for show. "Did you hear about Rose Potter?"

"Hear what about her?" Pansy raised an eyebrow at her reflection, puckering her lips in wait of the latest juicy gossip to reach her ears, "Did she get a Troll on a test or something?"

"Oh, she failed a test, all right." Millicient resisted the urge to smirk too early, waiting a beat before confessing, "A pregnancy test."

Pansy froze. Eyes widening. Pure glee lit up her squashed features when she grinned.

"You're lying!"

"I am not!" The girl felt nearly offended.

"So sweet little Rosie's life isn't so rosy anymore, is she?" Pansy snorted and then leant closer to her Housemate to ask, "And who's the baby daddy, hm? Anyone scandalous?"

Now, here was where Millicent really wanted to smirk. "Oh, someone appropriately scandalous, I'd say... It's Draco."

Pansy whipped round so fast, it was a shame she didn't get bloody whiplash. The girl's jaw dropped and she seemed to struggle for words for a full minute, opening and closing her mouth to Millicent's great pleasure until she blinked and her mouth spread to form a wicked smile.

"Oh, this is the best news I've heard all week."

Millicent blinked, nonplussed and not a small bit disappointed, to be honest. "Didn't you go out with Draco?"

"Sure, last year, back in Fourth Year." Pansy flipped her hair from his face. "We were children."

"Yea," Millicent couldn't resist needling, "I only thought you'd be more upset, Pansy, that someone so low—born managed to steal him from you. Didn't you use to say you had him wrapped around your little finger?"

Pansy's expression twisted and she shot Millicent a hateful look (it was wonderful).

"I did. But then he got distracted last year, didn't he? So distant and depressed, I suppose now we know it was that Potter slag keeping him busy. Now that she's up the duff, do you suppose he'll come running back to me?"

Millicent couldn't help but shake her head, almost in awe of her viciousness. "Parkinson, you're a terrible person."

"You want to know 'terrible', Bulstrode?" Pansy leaned towards the mirror to apply her sugar quill flavoured lipgloss (first of its line at Madam Snelling's). "Tying a boy down before he's old enough to vote for Minister."

Millicent scoffed back, "Draco wouldn't."

"Well, of course Draco wouldn't, dummy." Pansy agreed, smacking her lips and batting her eyelashes at her reflection, "But that doesn't mean the little slut won't try. And with Albus Dumbledore on her side, you won't read about Rose Potter's little indiscretion in The Daily Prophet. So maybe I'll just have to reach out to them myself..."

Slowly, viciously, Pansy grinned.

"Oh, I love it when the smart kids turn out to be so stupid."

ANNIE SPEAKS

𓆙

AHHHHH! things are about to go down!

also, rose and draco were really making some progress, and then, well, a bomb was dropped. yikes. their situationship is beyond complicated, and i'm living for it. plus, draco is a bit of an idiot so that's fun for everyone involved. except for harry. he's having a very bad time. i hope nobody was mad about how he's responding to draco because personally i think he's got some understandable reasons to be worried. and pansy parkinson is a real antagonist in this story if you haven't noticed... sorry if there are any pansy fans out there. oops.

side note: madam pomfrey is a girl's girl, i've decided.

side note two: idk if any of you care, but i've been have such lily and baby rosie feels, like lily would've been such a good mum, and it hurts me that they never really had time. so naturally i had to make a playlist. if you want to make yourself sad, give it a listen and share some song suggestions?? pls and thanks :)

𓆙

NEXT TIME IN WICKED GAME!

Still humming quietly, unaware of the disaster waiting ahead, Rose merely wondered, "What is it? The Prophet up to its usual sh—t?"

"Oh, Rosie."

Hermione's tearful voice was enough for Rose to look up with sudden dread. Her blood ran cold and a chill shivered down her spine as her friend shakily extended this morning's edition across the table. It didn't seem possible that anything in the news could bother her anymore, what with all the rubbish published about the Potters throughout the years, but then, she saw there — right there — written in big bold print:

ROSE POTTER PREGNANT WITH MALFOY HEIR?