Springfic: "Not So Much A Drama Queen As A Diva!" for lyras
Title: Not So Much A Drama Queen As A Diva!
Author: Plaidphoenix
Recipient: lyras
Character(s): Rose Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,413 words
Warnings (highlight to view): None
Summary: Rose Weasley is not your typical Weasley and through this story allows you a glimpse of the frustrations of her so-called life.
Author's Notes (if any): Just that I hope I came close to what was asked of me.
Betas: Offline
Confessions of a Teenaged Drama Queen by Rose Weasley, as written in her diary which probably doesn’t have a brain but thanks for asking, Grandpa Arthur.
April 10, 2023
If I have to knee Scorpius Malfoy in the groin one more time, I’m going to scream. Not that it’ll matter as mum and dad will be screaming right back for my getting expelled.
Still, it would be interesting to see Malfoy pissing out his mouth.
Some days, it’s not worth getting out of bed. What’s the worth of being the Queen Bitch of Slytherin House if all I can look forward to is my daily encounters with the heir to the house of ferrets. That and the daily lectures from Professor Longbottom on how I’m such a disappointment to mum and dad.
As if they care. They still have Hugo the House-Elf. That perfect little Gryffindor who everyone says is the best darn quidditch player since Uncle Harry took to a broom. As if. At least Uncle Harry had the sense to get suspended for punching out the big bad dragon as Scorpius likes to call his daddy.
And what, exactly, kind of name is Scorpius? What kind of name is Draco for that matter? Ok, ok, so I got named after a flower. Chalk that one up to an uninspired and unimaginative sex life on the part of Ron and Hermione Weasley.
God, I have such a boring family. At least Uncle Charlie and Uncle George know how to live a little and send decent presents. Thank my lucky stars I have an uncle who works with dragons and another who runs a joke shop and likes to spoil his nieces and nephews rotten. At least this particular niece he does.
Dosing the entire Hufflepuff table with Intestinal Distress was so brilliant, definitely worth the detention for that one. Who cares about howlers when you’ve laid out an entire house in the Hospital Wing for the better part of three days.
Ahhh, three days free of the sound of idiots blithering themselves stupid.
Oh look, there go the Parkinson Pugs, ready to slut themselves up for whoever is interested in getting a venereal disease.
Merlin, how their mother managed to actually copulate, let alone with someone who actually has a pulse is beyond me. It was probably some Muggle who thought he was doing a pity shag.
Me, at this point in my life I’m content to use my hands. At least I know where they’ve been.
No thank you. If I’m going to slut myself out, it’ll be at a fancier place than this and for a hell of a lot more then anyone here can offer.
Why, oh why, do I have to be surrounded by so many mindless peons.
At least I don’t have to worry about being made Head Girl next year. If I’ve achieved anything over the last six years it’s the knowledge in the hearts and souls of every teacher here that I cannot, under any circumstances, be trusted with authority and expected to wield it responsibly, at least not where the adults are concerned.
I wonder if I could get the first years to serve me breakfast in bed? It’s worth a shot, though why they’d want to is beyond me.
Oh yeah, hexing. I can hex them if they refuse.
I wonder if this is how Cousin Bellatrix started out? I know the family doesn’t like to be reminded of the fact we were related to her by blood, but what the heck, when in Slytherin, be a Slytherin.
Once again, what did they expect when Dad said they’d disown me if I didn’t get sorted into Gryffindor? Of course I’d spent the whole train trip scheming how to make it happen.
Thankfully, as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. Bollocks. I can just imagine having to share a common room with all my precious cousins. As if seeing them all for Christmas doesn’t make me want to vomit. They way they always point and stare at the black sheep of the family.
Sheep. Sheep. What was I thinking of doing with sheep? Oh yes, add some sheep’s wool to Polyjuice Potion and then get the House-Elves to pour it into as many glasses as possible at breakfast.
Note to self: Bring your own glass to breakfast tomorrow.
July 15, 2023
I do NOT believe the arrogant stupidity of whatever evil little toad is watching over my life. I cannot believe they made me Head Girl. Six years of scheming, conniving, pranking and all around being a completely unpleasant bitch and this is what I get to show for it!
Respectability. Bah! Overrated drivel!
I could choke on my own vomit if I wasn’t so disgusted with the entire situation. I swear, I’ll bet it was mother who convinced them to give me the job. That’d be just like her, meddling in everybody’s lives to the point of….oh give it up, I’ll never understand her and I’ll never give a damn about her.
I mean, it’s not like she’s done me any favors since she decided to push me out. Besides, what does she know about being a Slytherin?
Don’t think I don’t know that if she had her way there wouldn’t even be a Slytherin House at Hogwarts.
Good job, Mother. Free all the House-Elves and then really piss off the Purebloods.
Maybe I’ll join the Parkinson Pugs and slut myself out to whoever asks. It’s not like my life could get any worse then it is now.
September 1, 2023
Hell. I am in hell.
The next person to ask me a driveling stupid question on how to find the damn bathroom is going to wake up in a body bag.
The only way my life could get any worse is if I woke up and found out I was married to Scorpius Malfoy. Or better still, I woke up and found out that not only was I married to him, but that he’s also my long lost twin brother and we were accidentally separated at birth.
Gah, maybe I’ll just killing curse myself here and now. Save everyone the trouble of tormenting me for the next eight months. Of course, knowing my luck, I’d wind up haunting the stall next to Moaning Myrtle. Joy.
I could just quit I suppose. But then I’d have to get a job and where’s the fun in that?
I wonder if there’s a job where someone pays you an obscene amount of galleons for just sitting around and doing nothing. That would be a nice job to have.
Oh wait, there are all those Muggle brochures that Grandpa lets Dad borrow. (That’s Grandpa on mum’s side in case you didn’t know. The perfectly ordinary, dull and quite boring Muggle dentist. They told me what a dentist does for a living. Sounds like a perfect job for a Slytherin.)
Anyway, those brochures have pages and pages of women lounging around, doing nothing at all and wearing next to no clothes. And I’ve heard that in some of them, they aren’t wearing any clothes at all, though that doesn’t sound too appealing to me. You want a peak at what’s under my skirt, you’re going to have to earn it. My last name isn’t Parkinson and I sure as hell don’t spread my legs on demand.
Yes, I think that’s it, yet another way to disappoint my dear family. Just two more months I suppose, until my birthday, my eighteenth making me legal in the Muggle world birthday and I can walk away from this cesspool of a school and lobotomized idiots they call teachers, and my woefully wonderful cousins who treat me like I have spattergroit on a good day and pretty much everyone else thinking I’m insane, narcissistic, self-absorbed bitch.
Which I am.
Well, a double piss off on them then.
What are they going to do with their lives? Get quiet little jobs? Have quiet little families? Live in quiet little homes?
Please, that life is not for me.
A Weasley? In Slytherin House? It’s not like I was ever destined for anything normal. Knowing I’m better then everybody else, that’s what I’m good at.
Now where did those first years go? I need them down in the kitchen fetching me a snack. I’m hungry damnit and there’s no point trying to scheme on an empty stomach, it just doesn’t work.
fin
Author: Plaidphoenix
Recipient: lyras
Character(s): Rose Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,413 words
Warnings (highlight to view): None
Summary: Rose Weasley is not your typical Weasley and through this story allows you a glimpse of the frustrations of her so-called life.
Author's Notes (if any): Just that I hope I came close to what was asked of me.
Betas: Offline
Confessions of a Teenaged Drama Queen by Rose Weasley, as written in her diary which probably doesn’t have a brain but thanks for asking, Grandpa Arthur.
April 10, 2023
If I have to knee Scorpius Malfoy in the groin one more time, I’m going to scream. Not that it’ll matter as mum and dad will be screaming right back for my getting expelled.
Still, it would be interesting to see Malfoy pissing out his mouth.
Some days, it’s not worth getting out of bed. What’s the worth of being the Queen Bitch of Slytherin House if all I can look forward to is my daily encounters with the heir to the house of ferrets. That and the daily lectures from Professor Longbottom on how I’m such a disappointment to mum and dad.
As if they care. They still have Hugo the House-Elf. That perfect little Gryffindor who everyone says is the best darn quidditch player since Uncle Harry took to a broom. As if. At least Uncle Harry had the sense to get suspended for punching out the big bad dragon as Scorpius likes to call his daddy.
And what, exactly, kind of name is Scorpius? What kind of name is Draco for that matter? Ok, ok, so I got named after a flower. Chalk that one up to an uninspired and unimaginative sex life on the part of Ron and Hermione Weasley.
God, I have such a boring family. At least Uncle Charlie and Uncle George know how to live a little and send decent presents. Thank my lucky stars I have an uncle who works with dragons and another who runs a joke shop and likes to spoil his nieces and nephews rotten. At least this particular niece he does.
Dosing the entire Hufflepuff table with Intestinal Distress was so brilliant, definitely worth the detention for that one. Who cares about howlers when you’ve laid out an entire house in the Hospital Wing for the better part of three days.
Ahhh, three days free of the sound of idiots blithering themselves stupid.
Oh look, there go the Parkinson Pugs, ready to slut themselves up for whoever is interested in getting a venereal disease.
Merlin, how their mother managed to actually copulate, let alone with someone who actually has a pulse is beyond me. It was probably some Muggle who thought he was doing a pity shag.
Me, at this point in my life I’m content to use my hands. At least I know where they’ve been.
No thank you. If I’m going to slut myself out, it’ll be at a fancier place than this and for a hell of a lot more then anyone here can offer.
Why, oh why, do I have to be surrounded by so many mindless peons.
At least I don’t have to worry about being made Head Girl next year. If I’ve achieved anything over the last six years it’s the knowledge in the hearts and souls of every teacher here that I cannot, under any circumstances, be trusted with authority and expected to wield it responsibly, at least not where the adults are concerned.
I wonder if I could get the first years to serve me breakfast in bed? It’s worth a shot, though why they’d want to is beyond me.
Oh yeah, hexing. I can hex them if they refuse.
I wonder if this is how Cousin Bellatrix started out? I know the family doesn’t like to be reminded of the fact we were related to her by blood, but what the heck, when in Slytherin, be a Slytherin.
Once again, what did they expect when Dad said they’d disown me if I didn’t get sorted into Gryffindor? Of course I’d spent the whole train trip scheming how to make it happen.
Thankfully, as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. Bollocks. I can just imagine having to share a common room with all my precious cousins. As if seeing them all for Christmas doesn’t make me want to vomit. They way they always point and stare at the black sheep of the family.
Sheep. Sheep. What was I thinking of doing with sheep? Oh yes, add some sheep’s wool to Polyjuice Potion and then get the House-Elves to pour it into as many glasses as possible at breakfast.
Note to self: Bring your own glass to breakfast tomorrow.
July 15, 2023
I do NOT believe the arrogant stupidity of whatever evil little toad is watching over my life. I cannot believe they made me Head Girl. Six years of scheming, conniving, pranking and all around being a completely unpleasant bitch and this is what I get to show for it!
Respectability. Bah! Overrated drivel!
I could choke on my own vomit if I wasn’t so disgusted with the entire situation. I swear, I’ll bet it was mother who convinced them to give me the job. That’d be just like her, meddling in everybody’s lives to the point of….oh give it up, I’ll never understand her and I’ll never give a damn about her.
I mean, it’s not like she’s done me any favors since she decided to push me out. Besides, what does she know about being a Slytherin?
Don’t think I don’t know that if she had her way there wouldn’t even be a Slytherin House at Hogwarts.
Good job, Mother. Free all the House-Elves and then really piss off the Purebloods.
Maybe I’ll join the Parkinson Pugs and slut myself out to whoever asks. It’s not like my life could get any worse then it is now.
September 1, 2023
Hell. I am in hell.
The next person to ask me a driveling stupid question on how to find the damn bathroom is going to wake up in a body bag.
The only way my life could get any worse is if I woke up and found out I was married to Scorpius Malfoy. Or better still, I woke up and found out that not only was I married to him, but that he’s also my long lost twin brother and we were accidentally separated at birth.
Gah, maybe I’ll just killing curse myself here and now. Save everyone the trouble of tormenting me for the next eight months. Of course, knowing my luck, I’d wind up haunting the stall next to Moaning Myrtle. Joy.
I could just quit I suppose. But then I’d have to get a job and where’s the fun in that?
I wonder if there’s a job where someone pays you an obscene amount of galleons for just sitting around and doing nothing. That would be a nice job to have.
Oh wait, there are all those Muggle brochures that Grandpa lets Dad borrow. (That’s Grandpa on mum’s side in case you didn’t know. The perfectly ordinary, dull and quite boring Muggle dentist. They told me what a dentist does for a living. Sounds like a perfect job for a Slytherin.)
Anyway, those brochures have pages and pages of women lounging around, doing nothing at all and wearing next to no clothes. And I’ve heard that in some of them, they aren’t wearing any clothes at all, though that doesn’t sound too appealing to me. You want a peak at what’s under my skirt, you’re going to have to earn it. My last name isn’t Parkinson and I sure as hell don’t spread my legs on demand.
Yes, I think that’s it, yet another way to disappoint my dear family. Just two more months I suppose, until my birthday, my eighteenth making me legal in the Muggle world birthday and I can walk away from this cesspool of a school and lobotomized idiots they call teachers, and my woefully wonderful cousins who treat me like I have spattergroit on a good day and pretty much everyone else thinking I’m insane, narcissistic, self-absorbed bitch.
Which I am.
Well, a double piss off on them then.
What are they going to do with their lives? Get quiet little jobs? Have quiet little families? Live in quiet little homes?
Please, that life is not for me.
A Weasley? In Slytherin House? It’s not like I was ever destined for anything normal. Knowing I’m better then everybody else, that’s what I’m good at.
Now where did those first years go? I need them down in the kitchen fetching me a snack. I’m hungry damnit and there’s no point trying to scheme on an empty stomach, it just doesn’t work.
fin