(p.s this is super unedited and is two chapters combined)

third person pov

' eyes like sinking ships
on waters so inviting
i almost jump in'

Yaxley Manor is beautiful, oddly enough. Appearing even more so while considering the half-moon laid high in the sky, massive vines wrapping around each corner of the bricked home. So, after Rose apparated onto the doorstep with a swirling headache from flooing all the way from France to Zabini manor, and then apparating here, she took a few seconds to admire the place.

But then the ground stopped feeling as if it shook, and Rose began harshly pounding on the door, not stopping until Augustus Rookwood swung it open.

"Merlin, Rosalie.." He mutters, politely bowing his head and stepping to the side. "The dark lord is waiting, but I'm sure we can assume him and the whole of England heard you."

She rolled her eyes while walking into the foyer, gaze catching onto the chandelier above as Augustus shut the door. He steps in front of her, gesturing forward.

"This way, Rosalie."

Letting herself be guided, he led her into the left entryway. Rose immediately spotted Voldemort sitting at the head of a long table, Corbin Yaxley to his left.

"I can take it from here." whisper Rose toward Augustus, waiting until he walks away before leaning against the doorframe. "Miss me, my lord?" She calls, snapping the attention onto herself.

Voldemort stared through her. "You bring news, Rosalie?"

She holds up a folded letter. "No actually, fanmail." A laugh escapes her lips as his eyes roll, and she pushes off the framing, walking straight to Voldemort. Stopping right beside his chair, Rose lays the parchment flat down onto the table. "From your biggest fan of course, Albus Dumbledore."

The dark wizard's eyes follow her every move, contemplating her death as she sits down. "Do you find your humor worth losing your life?"

She cocks an eyebrow, propping her head up with a hand. "Kill me, my lord. You'd be doing me a mythical favor."

All of the sudden, Voldemort's hand shoots out, grasping her chin. She instantly swats him away, scandalized by the force in which he did so.

"Don't touch me!"

He stays unfazed, blinking as he looks into her eyes. "Are you intoxicated?"

"It's called weed!" She snaps sassily, "I get you're like a thousand years old and immortal but...people smoke. It's a normal thing."

His eye twitches, and then he huffs while picking up the letter. "I know what that is, Rosalie. It is just unacceptable behavior, and frankly a disgusting habit."

Ignoring him as he takes to reading the letter, Rose focuses on Yaxley, giggling to annoy the men. "How have you been, Yaxley? Excited to be working with me?"

Yaxley sneers in retaliation, moving to stand up, only to be forced back down by Voldemort's magic without him having to look up.

Now that is a trick Rose needs. "You'll have to teach me how to do that, it would be helpful when dealing with your dogs."

Voldemort lifts his head, sliding the letter over to Yaxley. "You must agree with Dumledore."

She begins excessively tapping her finger on the table. "Do I have to? I am liable to kill my sperm donor if he stays in my home."

With amusement, Voldemort says, "Yes, Rosalie. Dumbledore wants to use your home as an order base, it would be insanity to reject. So, while I do admire your murderous side, it must be put on hold."

"I figured you would say such. Can I offer another deal?"

"You can offer, that doesn't mean I'll agree."

"When it comes time, I want Sirius Black gone–off the face of the earth gone."

"Very well."

She nods thoughtfully. "So from that letter we know Remus Lupin, Daddy dearest, Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt...the question is, who else? We can assume the Weasley's, along with them comes all of their children but they won't be allowed in the order."

Voldemort stares, and stares, down at her fingers. Contemplating if she would truly hate him for cutting them off. Finally, he snaps, "I cannot focus with your incessant tapping!"

Her brows bunched together until looking down, realizing what she had been doing. "Oops–it's become a habit since I started wearing this ring...might be a lot of magic to handle but it's been helpful with my necromancy practice."

Yaxley's attention floats from the letter, over to the gold-banded ring. "Where exactly did you get it?"

Voldemort waves his hand in dismissal. "Tell me, Rosalie. Who do you wish to bring back?"

"Regulus Black, he would prove most useful. I've spoken with him and he wants to join you when he comes back."

"He was feared amongst my ranks, I do not mind if you need some family in your corner."

Her smirk blossomed. "Do you have a thing for the Black family, my lord? You seem to keep placing us on your side..."

His gaze narrowed, staring blankly at her face until she held her hands up. "Back to the topic at hand," Voldemort says, "You need only let them stay there long enough to sneak into an order meeting and find out everyone present. After that, I do not care if you kick them onto the street."

"Okay." Rose tells herself to not ask, that she shouldn't show she cares, but the words fall out like water, "When you see Mattheo, could you ask him to write me? I want to have him over, I need to talk to him."

Something sadistic spreads over Voldemort's face. "Do you know how easy my son and his reckless attitude is to control when you're being held over his head?"

"Whatever." Rose rolls her eyes, standing up and forcefully pushing her chair back into place. "Just tell him to reach out, okay?"

Voldemort offers no reply, sending a spurt of anger inside of Rose as she grabs onto the charm placed on the bracelet Theo gave her for christmas, a charm that worked as a portkey.

In a whirlwind of light she is taken through time and space, landing in the living room of her cottage. It's an instant relief, the smell of lavender and sage, the warm wind following through the opened windows, and most importantly—a home unstained by anything but good.

She slips down the corridor, pushes open her bedroom door, and pauses. Taking in the sound and view of the ocean from all of the open french doors, relishing in how much she can breathe here. Her eyes spot jade and Nyx sleeping peacefully sleeping on the bed, and she goes to slip her sweater off but instead jumps in shock. Seeing the silhouette of someone sitting in the chair beside her bed, their back turned to her.

"Whitman," She breathes out, "Get out of my room. Now."

He rises up to his full height, and Rose can only see shadows over his face until he comes so close that her back hits the door. Her throat closes as she sees how red his eyes are, feeling the need to get away before she can let her emotions take control but he traps hers with a hand by her head and one on her shoulder.

His voice comes out raspy, "You have to forgive me for what I said."

"And you can't force me to sit here and listen to you."

"I can, and I will."

"Seems a little crazy, wouldn't you say?!"

He glides his fingers onto the side of her neck, his throat visibly bobbing. "I don't care."

"Whit–"

"How many times have you forgiven people for saying much worse?"

She clenches her jaw, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Don't bring Draco into this. I know what you're doing."

His hand slams against the door, causing her to flinch. "Tell me why you make excuses for everyone but me!"

"I always make excuses for you!" She yells, "I just never expected to hear those words out of your mouth!"

"I'm sorry, okay?!" His voice shakes, "I don't want to fight. I can't," He brings his other hand off the wood, gliding his fingers onto the empty side of her neck, holding onto her as if she's water. "I can't do this with you. I'm angry, so fucking angry, and the full moon didnt help but im not saying that makes it right. I don't know how else to make it up to you besides acknowledging the fact it wasn't true, and it won't ever—" Whitman stops rambling, his words dying out as she places her hand against his chest.

"Okay." She murmurs, "I forgive you."

He looks down to her like the picture of exhaustion, throat visibly bobbing.

Rose tugs him closer, whispering, "It's okay, Whit. Everything's fine."

At those comforting words beginning to repeatedly flow from her mouth, Whitman tries shaking his head, but when her hands touch his face, he melts. Laying his forehead against her own, all but relying on Rose to keep him up.

His fingers flex around her neck with each breath, and his eyes flutter shut, highly aware of how she slides her cold hands beneath his shirt, onto his sides.

She sucks in shallow breaths, pressing their chest tightly together with every passing second. Her gaze drops down to his lips, back up to his eyes, and then onto his lips–again.

"Whit,"

"Hm?"

"Draco and Blaise," Rose manages to breathe out, "They're going to be here any minute..."

His thumb glides across her jaw, able to hear how fast her heart beats. "Yeah?"

In that moment, she stares at him like nothing else matters. "I–I need you to pull away."

"Why? Because of them?"

Her nails dig into his skin. "Because I can't bring myself to do it."

The world goes quiet.

Whitman leans forward to kiss her.

Rose doesn't stop him.

But his lips glide right past her own, pressing against her ear. "They could walk in right now, and I'd still kiss you." He pulls back after saying those damning words, breathlessly letting his eyes fall over her entire frame. "And be proud of it too."

He doesn't waste a second in exiting the bedroom, leaving Rose to stand with parted lips and a flushed face.

The next morning Blaise came walking into Rose's bedroom, stopping to close his eyes and take in the breeze hitting his face. "You know," He begins, "You might live in a hubble but you had the right idea with these french doors." As soon as he finishes speaking, he looks up to find Rose rushedly fixing the covers over herself before she lays back against the pillows, holding the duvet tightly against her chest. "What are you all wide-eyed for?" asks Blaise, crossing over and crashing down next to her.

"Now really isn't a good time," She says, trying to use one hand to shove him off.

Blaise scoffs. Beginning to open his mouth when her knee rises from beneath the duvet, and Rose raises a hand, repeatedly smacking at her own knee until it goes back down. After, she shoots him an apologetic grin, "Leg spasms? How in the name of Merlin do we get rid of them?"

"Okay..." Blaise drags out. Huffing, he looks up to the ceiling. "I need to talk. And that letter the one Fred sent—"

"Yes, yes, you've been super depressed." She shoves his shoulder again, and again. "Might I recommend some of the pot in the living room—"

Blaise tries swatting her away. "Why are you trying to get rid of me?!"

Her voice becomes chipper, "If the pot doesn't work, use one of my daggers and stab him!" She gives him one last push, gaining a glare in return as he slips off the bed.

Blaise adjusts his shirt, walking toward the door with a grumble. "Stab him?" He sends her an eye roll over his shoulder while latching onto the doorknob. "That's the worst advice ever—"

"Get out!" Rose yells, staring straight ahead until Blaise slams the door closed. She releases the iron-tight grip on the duvet as the body beneath quickly rushes to the top of the bed.

Draco's head pops out, face flushed and completely breathless.

"Gods," His voice comes hoarse, fingers latching onto her bare sides. "The duvet is like a sauna"

Her lips twitch, reaching to brush the white strand from his forehead. "Told you we needed to lock the door before starting, our friends have no sense of privacy"

"Yeah well, you waking me up at five am to confess you almost kissed Whit meant one thing," He pauses to bring his lips to her collarbone, "I had to make you forget."

Her eyes flutter close in ecstasy. "I felt guilty, and trust me–long, long forgotten. Let's just celebrate the fact it finished right before Blaise came in—" Her leg automatically kicks out on instinct.

Draco grunts, and then pulls her leg around his waist. "Merlin Rosie...this is why we can't have nice things,"

She tries holding in a laugh, but fails. "My limbs are moving on their own accord!"

His lips drag up her throat, making Rose's eyes fall shut and tightly wound her legs around his waist.

"Trying to murder me before breakfast?" He asks.

Rose manages a soft reply, "I contemplated it"

Draco hums against her skin before flipping them over, smiling as her exhausted face lays on his chest. He brings his thumb across her cheek,"Something cutting into your sleep schedule?"

Playing into his antics, she makes a thoughtful expression. "I believe it was a certain blonde wizard...can't be too sure though"

He fakes shock. "Really?! Tell me who he is so I can give him a piece of my mind."

She rolls her eyes. "You're not funny"

Draco smiles a smile she can feel in her chest.

Her favorite sight in the world.

And then, he pulls her fully into his chest, placing his chin atop her head. "I happen to find myself hilarious,"

Truthfully, these were the moments Draco craved the most. The simple touches, the closeness–intimacy from the one person whose touch didn't make him want to jump out of his own skin.

Seconds, minutes, or house later–neither of them knew. But eventually, Rose mumbles the words she dreaded, "I need to shower, I leave for Italy today."

He tightens his hold on her, speaking with defiance, "No you don't."

She quietly laughs into his chest. "Are you holding me hostage in my own home?"

He nods, squeezing Rose as much as humanly possible. "You'll never escape!"

"Yes I will! The Italians are waiting on me! Draco, no–" Her laughter grew as she tried pushing him away. "You have to let go!"

"Screw the Italians."

The moment his hold loosens enough for her to pull back and looks up at him, she does, and hooks a manicured finger beneath his chin. "You'll be there in a few days, love. Don't be so dramatic."

Draco grimaces at the thought. "Too long."

Slowly, but surely, a smirk spreads on her face. "Did I turn Draco Malfoy into a softie?"

He blinks, appearing disturbed from the last word. "Please, never say that again..."

"What? Soft—" Draco presses their lips together, silencing her at once, but things take a turn as his tongue slips into her mouth, pulling a groan from them both.

When he pulls away, she rests her forehead against his, and Draco lets his eyes rake over her face full of happiness.

It felt unreal, always would, and he wanted to remember Rose like this.

In a rush to not fall into a trance, Rose pushes her lips to his once again before rushedly rolling out of his grasp, pulling the duvet with to cover her body.

Draco gawks while pulling the sheet up to his waist, and sitting up. "You tricked me!"

She flashes him a smile. "Don't be such a fool next time!"

"I've seen you naked, darling." The shameless flirting is already beginning, "No need to shy away."

With unbridled amusement, Draco watches her frantically search for her robe. Between a laugh and smirk, he murmurs, "Under the bed."

Letting out a breath of relief, she bends down and grabs her robe, dropping the blanket on the floor and making Draco raise his eyebrows until she's suddenly covered by the silky material.

"Stop enjoying this so much," She mutters, tying to belt together.

He glances down at the marks on his stomach. "Should I be concerned that you are truly a vampire?"

"I could've done worse–be grateful."

He nods toward her neck with a smirk. "Looks like I might be one as well,"

One look at her chest sends a hand flying over her throat. "Damn you Draco Malfoy, damn you to the muggle hell!"

"I'll make sure to save you a seat, darling." He winks.

She heads for the bathroom while rolling her eyes. "Please do, you cunt!"

As the door closes behind her, Draco falls onto his back with a sigh. He smiles up at the ceiling before pulling a pillow over his face, laughing in disbelief.

She is his.

And Theo's—but he doesn't have to think about that right now.

*

Naples.

Rose's favorite place on earth.

It didn't take much to earn that spot when Elenor Nott's ancestral home is the most beautiful place one could step into. From the ceilings painted like the chapels in Rome; gods, goddesses, and people from ancient Rome covering not only the ceilings but the walls as well. To the columns spread throughout the open and airy home, it is extravagantly magnificent.

The young Black takes a deep inhale of the fresh, but salty air once leaving her suitcases in a pile by the hearth. Her eyes drag to the left, where arched glass doors spread across the entire backside, finding Theo on the patio, sitting across from a man she cannot recognize as he holds onto a glass of brown liquid in his ring clad hands.

She sighs at the view laying behind him, a pool holding one too many memories and an ocean not far from it. Forcing herself to not linger, Rose makes her away across the marbled floors, walking through the open glass.

But the moment Rose does, she stops, her body encased with the warmth of summer,

Eyebrows rising at the sight of Theo being too busy studying every lavish jewel that has been laid out on a black velvet cloth to notice her presence. That's the moment she realizes this random man leaning forward with him is in fact not a stranger, but a jeweler.

"Buying yourself some new earrings?" Rose calls from behind the jeweler.

Theo's dead eyes lift to her, and suddenly his face brightens up in a way that makes her heart kick into high gear. Maybe he was her form of the sun, but he was also one of the quietest and unbothered men until she came around, and he came to life–every time.

It felt special to hold that power.

A smirk that could rival the devil's spreads across his face as he leans back, and pats his thigh. "Come here, love."

She gives a polite nod to the jeweler while passing by before dropping into Theo's lap. His arms slide around her waist instantaneously, and he goes to turn her face to his for a kiss but is stopped by her pushing his chin away. "Excuse you," She teases, "Tell me why you've called a jeweler here."

"For your birthday, obviously."

"I don't need jewelry for my birthday."

He rolls his eyes, wrapping a hand around her thighs and pulling them over his other leg. "What do you take me for? A fool? You have much more meaningful gifts, but what man would I be if I didn't wrap some jewels around that throat?"

Her lips purse together, and then she leans forward slightly to peer at the blinding array of everything from rubies to pink diamonds. "Which is the most expensive?"

The jeweler scans the pieces with his pointer finger until landing on a choker full of blue diamonds. "This one, ma'am. But—"

"I want that one then." She interrupts before innocently looking at Theo.

He flashes the jeweler an easy going nod. "You heard the lady, but no box."

Meanwhile, while the jeweler began packing everything up, Regulus Black stood off to the side with James Potter, the latter wearing wide-eyes. "Did he really...just?" asks James.

"If Thedore didn't, then he would be good enough for my niece." Regulus sasses back, but then remembers why he was grimacing. "That's not what we need to be focusing on, he's going to lose it when he finds out. Surprisingly enough, I wish Rosie would stop telling me every detail."

James turns, latching onto Regulus' arm. "I forgot!" He shouts unnecessarily loud. "We need to call in a Whitman protection team!"

Evan Rosier appears next to Regulus, making the pair jump. "You called for me?"

The hand Regulus held over his heart slowly slips down, head shaking as he sees Rose throw her head back with laughter over something Theo whispered to her. "We were just speaking about how to save your son when Thedore finds out he tried snogging her."

"Please," Evan scoffs. "My son could rip someone's throat out if he wanted to, it's the only thing he has to thank lycanthropy for...wait," He cocks an eyebrow at Regulus. "Don't you two have better things to do than gossip about them?"

"We're dead, Evan." deadpans Regulus. "We have absolutely nothing to do."

James throws a scowl of malice. "Why don't you focus on keeping your whorey son away from my sweet little Rosie?!"

"Keep Whitman's name out of your mouth." Dorcas snaps upon arriving next to Evan. She goes to say more in defense of her favorite boy from the group but stops to stare as Rose leans forward and lets Theo clasps the diamonds around her neck.

After, Theo yanks on the necklace, smashing their lips together.

Regulus disappears quicker than air, James rushing to follow suit with a yelp.

But Evan simply turns away, extending an arm to Dorcas. "Want to walk the beach with me? We haven't in some time."

Dorcas wraps her finger around his bicep. "Feels weird still," She mutters, "Walking amongst the living. I'll never get used to it."

Meanwhile Whitman and Blaise appear on the patio, the latter clapping to break Rose and Theo apart. It takes a minute for them to do so, Theo continuing to pull Rose back in every time she tries moving away–it isn't until their friends take a seat across from them that Theo finally lets go.

The Black giggles while using her hold on the back of Theo's hair to keep him from attacking her face. "Sorry guys,"

"Don't be," Blaise smiles at her look of happiness, nudging Whitman who casts his eyes to the side with aggravation.

"Oi!" Theo calls, barely using any strength to force Rose to relax against him. "What's your deal, Whit?"

Whitman reclines into the seat, blinking in response until Blaise nudges him again. "Just wondering what the plan is for Ro's birthday tomorrow,"

Theo takes a swig of his drink before smiling in the laziest way possible. "Well, I'm taking her to Rome for the day, and then Vatican City. You two want to come?"

"Guess we should," says Whitman, "Her birthday leads right into yours at midnight, so we can honestly just stay up and start celebrating your own until sunrise...if you want?"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Rose chants excitedly, "We should do Vatican City first, and then go to Rome! We'll all apparate into the Colosseum when midnight strikes for Theo's birthday, and since it's closed we can get drunk and fight like the gladiators did!"

Each of the boys share one look, and suddenly they're falling into a heap of laughter.

Rose, completely confused, says, "What? It is a great idea!"

"You want to fight each other like gladiators?" Theo drops his face onto her shoulder between laughs, "Baby..."

Whitman's head tips backwards. "Should we get the outfits too?"

She starts talking over their laughs, explaining how truly magnificent and memorable her idea could be until her eyes are drawn to the opened doors, going silent upon spotting Theo's father with a woman who had to be in her twenties.

Of course, the father grimaces at her on his son's lap, but forces himself to speak. "Travel go good?"

Taking to a vow of silence, Theo tightens the arm he holds around Rose, his other hand bringing the glass up his lips and chugging. Rose can feel his muscle tense despite his uncaring attitude, knowing it hurt him to watch how his father would flaunt random women around his whole life as if it meant nothing.

"Yes sir," Whitman answers, "Ro beat us here though."

The senior laughs in a way that makes everyone feel uncomfortable as he slips his finger into the unnamed girl's hand. Blaise, deciding on breaking the tension, smirks up at the woman.

"Hello gorgeous,"

"Hi," She offers a hand to Blaise, one he smugly takes and presses his lips to, gaining a small laugh in return. "Well aren't you something? I'm Erika, and you?"

"There's no need to introduce yourself, there'll be another one of you tomorrow." Rose says before Blaise can reply. She covers her mouth, "Oops! Did I say that out loud?" As soon as the words slip, Rose smiles at Theo's father.

"That's Rosalie," The father says, "She's not very friendly, you'll have to excuse her crudeness."

No one says anything else, an awkward silence just lingers until the pair walks toward the pool, and Whitman waits until they are far enough away that he won't be heard before facing Theo with a raised eyebrow.

"She has to be what? Five years older than us?"

"I'll be surprised if it's even more than three," Theo mutters, "She barely looks twenty one."

Blaise whistles to himself as, in the distance, Erika discards her cover up. "She looks like a beautiful hooker,"

Whitman blinks, and then blinks again. "Come on," He says, standing up and pulling Blaise with him, "We need to get some alcohol and sedate you."

Rose watches them go with a soft smile, and when her focus turns back onto Theo, he's already looking at her, as if she's the medicine for the hollow ache in his chest caused by his father. "Hey," She murmurs, dragging a thumb down his cheek. "You wanna know something funny?"

"Ro, I–"

"She had a pink flower in her hair."

His eyes lift to Rose's, then turn to spare a glance at his father and Erika. An unsuspected laugh escapes his lips, "Mum is somewhere cackling to herself."

"Yeah, she is." says Rose, cupping his face and pressing her lips against his forehead. "How about I get you out of this place?"

Special thing, taking turns pulling the other out of darkness.

*

A day full of museums, where Rose and Theo tried to stay apart so they could enjoy the art without distraction, but everytime they stopped in front of a painting or statue, their fingers would instinctively reach for each other. Then, it was dinner at their favorite restaurant with Blaise and Whitman, who spent the night ordering so many bottles of wine that by the time they all arrived back at the home, none of the group could properly walk.

The minute they crossed the threshold of the home, Theo scooped Rose up into his arms, laughing too loud to be bothered while she giggled and tried escaping as he whisked her up the stairs. It wasn't until he kicked open his bedroom door, tossed her onto the foot of the bed, and retreated to his closet, did Rose get to finally calm her echoes of happiness.

A large box wrapped in paper comes sliding so fast from the closet and straight  to the foot of the bed that Rose jerks her legs up to her chest, barely avoiding a collision. "Teddy!" She yells, eyes lifting to find him breathlessly leaning on the doorframe. "You couldn't have picked up the box?!"

"I'll be honest with you baby," He offers a drunken smile, "I'm way too drunk to pick up anything." A smile cracks across her own face, another giggle coming to the surface as he carefully walks toward her.

In an all too messy way, Theo pulls her into his lap, burying his face into her neck and leaving so many kisses across her skin that she has to push his face away.

She struggles to speak, with a flushed face and too much alcohol making her trip over laughs. "Teddy! Let me open my gift!"

"Fine," He groans, but still wears a grin. He tilts her face forward, placing his cin on her shoulder. "It isn't midnight, but since you're spoiled..."

"Shut up lover boy," She sasses, bending down to lift the box onto the bed. Her fingers work magic like a blade, tearing the wrapping paper off, leaving herself to carefully take the lid away from the cardboard box. Inside awaits books upon books, but they are muggle, from the most classic of the classics, to ones she mourned not being alive to see published centuries ago. Each are clearly first editions, something that stands out to her.

Theo laughs at her refusal to show confusion, for she had all of these, and didn't quite understand why this box was filled to the brim with so many. "Open them up, baby."

She slowly flips open Jane Eyre, gasping instantaneously because there is a signature, a perfect signature, laying on the first page. Theo nudges her to go on, and at a quick pace she opens book after book, every single one—quite literally every single book has a signature. The books are strawn around the bed, Theo is full of amusement, and Rose can barely contain herself when she turns in his lap and begins shaking him. She manages to say one word, "How?!"

"Time turner I made last year, I've been using it since then to slowly get this done." He smiles, but then he sees her watery eyes and cannot refrain from laughing as he reaches to wipe her face. "Are you crying over this?"

"That–that is insane," Her bottom lip trembles, meanwhile his smile grows tender. "It's too meaningful..."

"Well, it's just you have all the money in the world." He says, "I know the past two years have been hard and I wanted you to have something that reminded you I still see you as you are. And, if you ever lose sight of that, you can find yourself between these pages like you always did–" He pauses to add a teasing tone, "Not in Dorian Gray, of course. We don't need your livelihood tied to a painting..."

She traps him in the most bone crushing hug possible, and when her lips meet his face, they go over every inch, muttering thank you between each kiss.

Between the laughter that erupts from his chest, Theo feels his body warm, it's like a blanket–her love, of course.

"Baby," He laughs as she keeps going, "I have more gifts to give you!"

Rose freezes, taking hold of his cheeks. "No," She tightly wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face there. "Just hold me."

"Let me see your face at least,"

She shows him, holding one of the grandest smiles, which sends his heart rate into a frenzy. The edges of his face melts, and he drags his thumb across her bottom lip, never wanting to see that smile falter.

"There's my girl," He murmurs, dragging her mouth flush against his own.

They stayed intertwined for a time, both feeling too much to comprehend.

But after a while, when Rose realized how close it was to midnight, she slipped away, beginning to pull him off the bed.

In the corridor, Theo asks, "Where are you taking me, ma'am?"

"We need to get Whit and Blaise!"

"We should just give them some privacy, yeah?"

Rose casts a confused glance over her shoulder at him, still trudging forward. "For what? Gossiping?"

Theo laughs, thinking she's joking, but then Rose pushes open the door. Revealing a sight that stops them both in their tracks.

Whitman has Blaise pinned against the wall, kissing him heatedly.

They break apart seconds later.

Theo laughs.

Blaise wipes his mouth off, focusing on the ground..

But Whitman stares at Rose, following her eye-line to the clock on the wall.

12:01 am

He eternally begs her to just look at him.

The minute she does though, Whitman wishes he never he never asked for such.

Her lips are parted, a deep saturated expression of hurt written over every feature.

It's one of those moments for Rose, where she realizes something has changed. Whitman had been flaunting women around for years, shoving his tongue down people's throat right before her. During those times, she would always feel this off-putting pang, a seed of jealousy she never paid any mind to.

Because deep down, Rose knew Whitman couldn't love those girls.

This is different. In her mind, Blaise and Whitman wouldn't be happening if they weren't in love. There's so much history, barrels of love from friendship that could turn into the real deal. She doesn't expect to feel it, and it terrifies her, makes her so very confused – this feeling of sickness that comes from the realization Whitman could love someone.

It's the first time there's ever been a possibility of such happening, and she despises the idea.

Friends shouldn't feel this way, she knows that much. Rose should be happy, but right now she is anything other.

"Oi!" Theo spots the clock, wrapping an arm around her neck. "Happy birthday, love!"

With her eyes locked on Whitman, Rose shoves Theo off, exiting the room as if fire is beneath her feet.

Theo frowns when the door slams. "Wait...I thought we all knew but were not saying anything?"

"Shut up." Whitman mutters, knocking his shoulder while rushing after her.

The Rosier searches room after room, not finding any sign. That is until he goes onto the fourth floor, pushing open a door and seeing her silhouette on the balcony. He doesn't waste a second going inside, walking through the opened glass doors and realizes she's leaned on the railing, staring off to the side where waves tumble into the shore.

He stops beside her, managing a whisper. "Ro," 

"Why didn't you tell me?" She mutters, a broken undertone hiding while her eyes stay on the tumultuous ocean. "Me, of all people. Theo knew, Draco probably knew, but you decided to keep it from me. I get them not saying anything, but you and Blaise? If you wanted to be with him then you could've said so."

Everything buried deep within him hopes for her to spare him a single glance, something he soon realizes will not happen.

"It isn't like that."

Her head snaps toward him, gaze clouded in a storm he saw her wear one too many times. "If you want to be with him, then I'm happy for you!" She scoffs, pressing up off her elbows and shrugging his fingers off. "But you shouldn't have tried...kissing me! Last night, and everything before then! You don't get to toy with Blaise, he's our best friend! And me, I am not some girl from school that you can play around with!"

His throat visibly bobs. "I'm not in love with Blaise, you would know that if you paid attention."

It's unsettling for Whitman, her being on the verge of tears on her birthday, and him being the reason.

Her shoulders sag, and she resumes her leaning position on the railing. He knows her all too well, so very aware that she believes staring at the outer world will give some peace from her own small bubble. A tactic, one she taught him.

His fingers wrap around the stone by her wrist, pushing his smell of leather and vanilla over like a warm blanket. "It started at the beginning of summer. Blaise was depressed, confused about Fred and realizing he might've actually been in love with Luna—still is. I was...lonely. You were finally ready to be with Draco and you made up with Theo, suddenly you were entering a relationship, and I knew it—I knew it all those years ago, that when you finally were with them two..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Look at me, Ro."

She doesn't listen.

But Whitman tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she releases a shaky breath, meeting his eyes against her better judgment.

"We got drunk, and it just happened." He says, fingers lingering by her skin. "You guys were all off swimming and...yeah. I didn't know I was into guys, but it's all the same, isn't it? Who cares if I like both? I'm still me."

"You're allowed to like both." mutters Rose, "Are you guys going to be together now?"

He huffs a laugh. "No. It's just a mutually distracting thing. Using each other whenever we need."

Whtiman can't miss the look of relief on her face, or how she stares at him in a way he's never seen before.

"Why do you seem so relieved?"

She straightens up, letting his hand fall from her body. "I don't know." A pause, "But I do know I want you to be happy, whatever that encompasses. Maybe I'm just being a jealous child, fuming over the idea of you loving someone else. That's not fair to you."

Silence looms over them, the distant roars of waves and the prickling feeling of cooled heated breezing by, while the stars above seem too distant. There's so many unspoken things on his part, and so many confusing things swirling in her mind.

He tilts his head downwards, shifting in an almost awkward way.

His voice comes quietly, "I would never use you." After, with a featherlight touch, Whitman grasps her chin. And this, this moment, whirls her back to the night before. The gentle caress of his touch, where the hairs on her neck stand at attention, how brutally warm he is, when his gaze falls to her mouth—

"Whit," She breathes, all before snapping. Shoving his hand away, taking two major steps back, shaking her head; all in the form of words saying this can no longer happen. This time, as she speaks, the words come angry. "Why do you keep kissing me? Touching me?!"

This is bullshit, all of it. He steps forward, pointing to his chest. "You should be asking yourself why you keep letting me!"

It's her now.

Her eyes falling to his lips.

Her breathing picking up.

Her making every sense on his body heightened.

Rose's whole chest shakes as she releases a breath Whitman didn't know she was holding, and in the utmost form of anger, she goes to rush past him.

But he catches her elbow, yanking her in by the back of her head, smashing their lips together.

Five seconds, that's all it takes for her fingers to wind into his hair.

Ten, and she's pulling him closer.

Fifteen, and his hand slithers up her back, grasping at the hair on the nape of her neck.

Twenty, and they reach the point of no return.

"Tell me if this means more," She murmurs, her breath fanning against his lips. "Tell me."

The words get lodged in his closing throat. He uses his fingers slipping onto the side of her neck to pull Rose back slightly, and ruins his chance of speaking, because she's staring up at him so intently that it is too much for him to handle. He wants to scream it, shout how much he loves her until he has embedded himself deep beneath her skin.

But he doesn't. From the twinkle in her eye at this very moment, the one he sees when she's around Draco and Theo, to the curve of her cheek as his thumb glides down. Whitman realizes how happy she has been, how much he's messing everything up. It's stupid and childish, the way he wants her to know without him having to say the words aloud. Those emotional guards he created years ago, they stand tall, blocking his windpipes.

Maybe his eyes will say the sentence he cannot, or maybe his touch will do so for him. He tries, tries really hard, but awful memories come to taunt. Suddenly, he's twelve and begging his family to love him. Ten, and being put in a cage for reasons he doesn't understand. Thirteen, and running from a place that has treated him like nothing more than an animal. These flashes, they are the reason, he realizes, that he cannot tell her. It would be wrong, crude of him to condemn someone he loves so much to loving what Leigh Rosier said, a monster.

"I can't," He finally says.

Now, something different than love, flashes through her hardening gaze. She pushes him off, lifts a hand to his chest, and shakily says, "Then let me go before we ruin everything."

Whitman flicks his attention onto the shore, unable to watch her leave, but he feels her do so—the harsh brush of her rushing past him.

Whether it's minutes, or an hour, Whitman doesn't know. His fingers flex around the railing though, the muscles on his back tensing, when he hears footsteps he suspected would be angry, but instead are hesitant. "She told you?" He asks, knowing who's behind him without looking.

Theodore Nott breathily replies, "Yeah, of course she did."

Whitman sighs, glancing over as Theo settles next to him. "Suspected you to punch me in the face, or at least attempt murder."

He scoffs. "I want to, believe me. I want to throw you off this balcony." A long, long pause, "I never use my seer abilities on you guys, I actually try really hard no to." Theo's head turns. "I wouldn't have known if she didn't come tell me just now. I–I never would have pieced it together. Makes me feel stupid, really."

Silence, a thick one.

"You love her." Theo says, as if it is hard for him to accept. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never noticed." Whitman shakes his head. "You were too busy with your own feelings, and Draco—I didn't suspect him to realize. You though, you were supposed to notice."

Theo doesn't want to say it, and every piece of his ego tells him to run away, leave Whitman to his own devices so Rose never knows the truth, but he shoves his ego down.

"Tell her,"

Whitman's lips part with a shaky exhale, eyes closing before he turns to Theo in shock. "What?"

Theo, his jaw ticks, but he keeps going. "I love you, okay? I want you to be happy, and I feel awful that you couldn't talk to me this whole time. I'm not insecure about how much she loves me. Honestly, I've never felt so secure about something before. If she wants to love you, well, I'm not threatened by that."

"You? Fine with that? You get filled with rage when she even kisses Draco."

"I'm trying, okay? Draco is too." Theo spits, "It's new, and it isn't something that's easy to adjust to."

One last pause floats between them, a silence longer than ever before.

An unencumbered wave of emotion crashes into Whitman, and he manages a quiet, "I can't tell her. I just can't do it."

Theo scoffs, voice rasing, "Well–" He stops. "Then don't fucking touch her, or kiss her. Keep your damn hands off of her if you're going to shut down and act like this."

"Okay." He mutters, looking away. "I won't do it again. I'll...I'll let her go."

More than anything, Theo knows he should leave, and a part of him wants to. But it's Whitman, and Theo feels so much unwelcomed guilt that he's been alone in this. Theo pushes off the railing, jaw locked tight, except he only makes it one step away grabbing onto Whitman's shoulder. "I hate you sometimes," is all he says before he's pulling the boy into a hug.

Whitman all but collapses into him. "I'm sorry,"

"I know." Theo breathes.

*

It had been nothing short of a seamless week in Naples, with Theo and Rose both turning eighteen, they would sneak off to muggle bars and do everything in between. Whitman sort of acted as if nothing had happened, which Rose became grateful for. Not to mention Rose did in fact get her drunken 'gladiator fight' on Theo's birthday in the Colosseum, a sight to behold indeed, something Draco surely missed out on witnessing.

As of now, Theo laid in a poolside daybed, Rose pressed tightly against his chest, as the voices of Luna, who had been welcomed to join after Rose threatened to write the dark lord and say Theo's father was trying to hurt her if he didn't allow her friends presence, Whitman, and Blaise rang out from the ocean a few feet away. The couple, on the other hand, found solace with drinks in their hands, and the pool close by.

Rose tossed her glass onto the sand a few feet away from the stone ground beneath their daybed, turning her head to catch Theo bringing his own drink to his lips. She smiled at his relaxed face, and found humor in the sunglasses blocking her from seeing his eyes.

She decided then, as if not already, that he was the most radiant person in this world.

A smirk spreads across his face. "I think you are the most radiant person in this world as well, love."

She gasps, sitting up from his chest. "Did you just push into my head?!"

The arm around her waist tightens, and then he yanks her back against his chest. "You were distracted, therefore I took my opportunity."

"Careful, Teddy." She warns, trying to hide how happily she settles into his warmth beneath the burning sun. "It's a dark, dark place...might get spooked by the ghosts,"

He laughs, trailing his fingers down her stomach. Cockily, he says, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours,"

Her eyes roll, but a smile so wide it hurts spreads across her cheeks. With his free hand, Theo brings his glass to her lips, unsuspectedly hearing her choke when the alcohol touches her tongue.

"Gods," She shivers, "Why is it so strong?"

A voice, the one of Draco Malfoy, sounds in their ears, "Miss me?" He asks, making them both snap their eyes open to see him standing above.

Theo flashes a grin, "Definitely didn't miss you showing up randomly,"

Rose sends an elbow into Theo's stomach as she relaxes once more, "We missed you, a lot."

Draco rolls his eyes as always, and sits on the end despite there being plenty of room to be next to them, picking up both of her legs and the one Theo refuses to move, placing them over his lap. When Rose closes her eyes again, and Theo seems to have already done so, Draco furrows his brows together. "What are you two laying in the sun for?"

"Trying to tan, you fool." Rose jokes.

Theo adds on, "You wouldn't know anything about that, Draco, because you're as white as a ghost." He presses his lips to Rose's ear, "He's haunting us,"

She giggles alongside a smile aimed at Draco, "You do gleam in the sun though,"

"Like snow," Theo comments.

Draco lets out a rush of air, but his lips twitch. "I did not miss the antics between you two," His eyes caught something though, the unrecognizable diamonds looped around her neck. He sticks a finger beneath the necklace, "Now that is necklace,"

Rose attempts to bring him closer, desperate for his touch after a week. "Theo did good, hm?"

"He did." Draco genuinely smiles, "You got to go open your other ones,"

All of the sudden, Whitman comes up from behind Draco, wrapping his arms around the blonde tightly, and dripping wet from the ocean.

"You cunt!" He shouts, as Draco tries swatting him off in horror at getting his clothes wet. "You didn't tell me you were coming before lunch!"

"You're soaking wet, Whit!"

Whitman chuckles as he shoves Draco down onto Rose, sparing a glance at Theo, who adamantly shakes his head no. Naturally, Whitman doesn't listen, practically crashing down on top of all three, finding humor in Rose's yelp from the cold water.

Blaise is next, nearing too fast for any comfort.

"Don't you dare!" Draco scolds, mid-way through sitting up when Blaise comes toppling onto the daybed, effectively making everything more soaked.

Somewhere, a few feet away, everyone can hear Luna's laughter, clearly finding every detail of the moment hilarious.

"I need a picture of this!" chirps Luna.

"No pictures!" Rose yelps again, her hand raising out from the mass of bodies. "Just save me, Luna! They're all insane!"

Luna chokes on a giggle, "Too late!"

____________________________________

A/N: hello loves, missed u guys! I know i swore to not go mia again but this is two chapters and i have the next one done, but i'll be waiting until tomorrow to post because i don't want to overwhelm you all with massive chapters...but to my rereaders, the chapter after the one tomorrow is the one we have been waiting for (iykyk) and i changed so much that i think it'll be shocking to you all ekkkk

–would you believe me if i said there was supposed to be a smut scene at the end on the daybed? lol, i decided to cut it because we needed a more happy end because next chapter is pure chaos

–been rethinking bringing james back, and have a whole new idea for regulus's love life...

-the boys friendship <3

—"AND I HATE TO DO THIS TO YOU ON YOUR BIRTHDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BY THE WAY!!" this song for when rose walks in 😩

anyways, i don't much to say today <3

RETURN OF THE MEMES? :

This fits Rose and Draco so well:

Me after making you think Whit would confess:

Rose rolling up to Yaxley manor:

Theo when walking in on Blaise and Whitman:

Rose to Yaxley:

xx bri