A Tale as Old as Time (Harry James Potter x OC)

Chapter 6...Don't Get Your Panties in a Twist

As the students made the journey from the Hogwarts Express to the Great Hall, Harry found Rosemary once again and insisted upon carrying her bags. "I'm a proper gentleman, love," he claimed.

Although she, having caught Harry's eyes wandering to her chest more than a few times in the past five minutes alone, vehemently disagreed with that statement, Rose had just woken from a long nap and her eyes still felt heavy. So, despite herself and to a protesting Draco's dismay, Rose allowed it, just this once. "Fine, but don't think this means I'm going on a date with you."

Harry simply smirked. Meanwhile, Draco had found his way to his gang of Slytherins while Rose rested. He certainly did not want to be locked in a compartment with Candace and Amanda for five hours without Rose to defend him. For some reason — and there were many — the girls did not care for him very much.

When her friends told her about Draco's whereabouts, Rose frowned deeply. While she never held Draco's House against him, she did not necessarily approve of some of the company he kept. Take Crabbe and Goyle, for instance. In Rosemary's opinion, they were complete and utter boneheads. Once she found Crabbe trying to help Goyle remove his head from a plastic bag he had somehow found. How he managed that Rosemary would never know.

She genuinely believed neither had a single thought so much as developing in their brains.

But in spite of her reservations towards some of the Slytherins, most tended to either treat her with kindness or stay away from the girl. Draco was something of a celebrity to the green House, so he made sure everyone knew to never mess with his best friend. Of course, there were a few vile boys who made suggestive comments toward the pretty blonde every now and again, but as much as he tried, Draco couldn't control everyone and everything.

Harry Potter, however, was determined to.
So, as all the third years walked to their respective tables for the annual Sorting Ceremony, the Potter boy tried with great difficulty to lead Rosemary to the Gryffindor table as opposed to the Hufflepuff one.

"Potter, get your grimy hands off my new coat," the girl complained. She had just gotten the scarlet fleece a few weeks ago as a hand-me down gift from her aunt, so it was not exactly new. But still, it was a present from a beloved family member, and Rose cherished it.

"Don't worry, love. If it gets dirty, you could always wear mine," he flirted. His eyes lit up at the mere idea of his Rosemary in his clothing. "Besides, I'm sure it would look far better on you than me."

"Well that's a given," she snapped back.

Throwing his head back in laughter, Harry shifted his attention away from Rosemary for a second to Ron and Hermione. "She's a riot, isn't she?" he mused.

While the ginger boy was too engrossed in the grandiose dishes lining the chestnut mahogany table to respond, Hermione glared at her idiot friend and turned to Rose with sympathetic eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for his behavior," she apologized.

"It's alright," Rose responded. "It's not your fault he's a total wanker."

"Oh, he's not usually this bad," she defended. "He isn't always a total wanker. Honestly, I don't know what's come over him."

"Love, Mione, love," Harry's eyes glazed over in adoration at Rose. The boy corrected himself, "Or rather, Rosemary. My Rose." He gazed lovingly at her, him admiring the transcendent glow of her peach skin. A new idea popped into his head, and he smirked, "My Rosebud." Gods, this boy.

"Oh, you are so not calling me that, Potter."

"Oh, I so am, my Rosebud." Harry swung an arm over the girl's shoulder that which the girl quickly brushed off in disgust.