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

Chapter 1...Diagon Alley

Rosemary Stevens was not having a good day. Her third year at Hogwarts began tomorrow, but after trying on her back-to-school outfit — which was really just the school uniform, to Rosemary's dismay — the blonde realized she had outgrown all her best skirts. The thirteen year-old would otherwise have appreciated the growth spurt, if it didn't mean she had to Floo all the way to Diagon Alley for a new outfit.

Despite Rose's best attempts to convince her father magic was not all bad — even if it did take her away from him for the majority of the year, as he so often liked to remind her — her muggle dad did not want to hear it. He preferred for the young girl to walk through life just as any ordinary teenager may, but ask anybody, Rosemary Stevens was no ordinary girl.

With golden curls of hair framing her always perfectly-rosy face adorned with a beauty mark just above her plush crimson-red lips complementing the cobalt blue of her eyes, Rosemary's very being must have served as inspiration for Veela, though even they could hardly compare. In fact, in many's eyes, especially those of Draco Malfoy — Rose's best friend — no one could. She was beautiful in an incomprehensible way that left people in awe.

But it was not her physical beauty alone that attracted the likes of Hogwarts and passersby wolf-whistling at Rose outside Ollivander's ; it was her kindness and compassion that were truly compelling. Rosemary was unfailingly kind — too kind if you ask some of her friends, but they love her for it.

That love for Rose was precisely why two of her best friends were currently on their way to the apparel shop to help Rose on her quest to purchase a brand new skirt with her allowance. As soon as Rose called, the girls dropped everything and came rushing.

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Meanwhile, Harry James Potter awoke at 10:52 on Sunday morning with a problem of his own - his hair! His precious, silky-smooth locks were a wild mess on his head. Oh, this simply wouldn't do.

Much to Lily Potter's annoyance, Harry would not stop begging for her to take him to Diagon Alley for new hair gel before the school year. "But Mom, pleaseee," he huffed. "You don't understand. My hair —" he gestures to his head — "is my image. Dad knows what I'm talking about, right?"

"Of course, mini-Prongs, but you know, as our Lily-Flower so very often tells me, it is the winning Potter charm that really attracts the ladies." The elder Potter pinched his wife's behind as he ran his fingers through his hair with his other hand.

In return, Lily promptly smacked him over the head with a magazine. "Gods, you two will be the death of me. First of all, Harry, I think you look just adorable exactly as you are now without all that goop in your hair you get from all those products." She kissed Harry's forehead, and he scrunched his nose in embarrassment.

"What about me, Lils. Don't I get a kiss," whined James with a pout.

Lily's doting eyes turned cold, though an amused glimmer flickered in her emerald irises mirroring her son's. "And you, Mr. Potter, should not be encouraging our son's obsession with himself." Harry began to protest, but Lily shushed him, to which James not-so-discreetly stuck his tongue out at his son. "He gets it from you, you know, James." That quickly shut him up. "But, nevertheless, seeing as tomorrow is the start of a new school year for you, Harry, I suppose we could stop in town."

Harry nearly squealed in excitement, but tried to contain himself with a manly hoarse cough to avoid more teasing from his father. "Great. Thanks, Mom.'Really appreciate it," he said in a futile attempt to appear more mature than a second grader.

James and Lily merely chuckled in reply. Oh, today would be a right blast.

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"Roseeeee, you're taking forever," Candace complained. "Just pick one out and let us be done with it so we can get ice cream."

"I second that," Amanda concurred, but her eyes were still soaking in all the magnificent colors surrounding her. As a young budding artist, Amanda was always searching for new color palettes. And oh, those violets and cerulean blues would do quite nicely for her next landscape capturing the mysteries of the sea.

"My gods, be patient, girls. I just have a little more browsing to do before I try on my things," Rose exclaimed, as she tossed a lace scarf at her friend Candace in apology. Turns out, most of the skirts in Rose's size and price range — having only a few measly galleons in her wallet —were sold out this close to the start of the school year. Still, the girl remained hopeful. "Here, try this on. I know how much you love lace," she coaxed, her warm smile instantly melting Candace's cool demeanor.

"Humph fine," she responded, refusing to sound like she was giving in too easily, even if she very well was. "But we're out of here in the next hour. Got it, Rose?"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it, we get it. You got a hot date with your pillow and a bowl of vanilla ice cream tonight to accompany you during your Jane Austin reading marathon," Amanda half-jested.

"Hey, play nice, you two," Rose urged before Candace had the opportunity to snip back some witty remark. "All I want is a nice, relaxing last summer day without you guys bickering like a married couple — and a new skirt, but that's beside the point. Is that too much to ask for?"

Amanda and Candace flushed at the insinuation of some kind of romantic connection between them, but nodded their heads in unison. Neither fully understood their feelings towards the other, but these days, their bickering seemed nonstop to poor Rosemary, always caught in the middle of their arguments. But for Rosemary, the two tried to put their differences aside. Still, Candace wouldn't be Candace without her cutting jokes: "Uh huh. Whatever you say, Mommm."

Rose flicked her forehead with her index finger and stifled a laugh before she squealed loudly, causing her two friends to flinch in surprise. "YES! Found it. The last skirt in my size and just within my budget." A boastful, satisfied smile settled on the blonde's face.

Her two friends sighed in relief and walked with her to the dressing room when a family of six came gallivanting into the shop and stopped them in their tracks. Well, more specifically, the youngest, a boy with untamed dark hair, stopped Rose in her tracks...when he spilled his cone full of vanilla ice cream all over the soon-to-be-hers skirt.

"Oh, this is so not what I meant when I said I wanted dessert after our shopping spree."