(-references to little women & a quote
from the OOTP book & TCOG movie
-you will see in rosie's pov when tom
is speaking it says "the dark lord" this is intentional because in her mind with how angry she is with him, she's seeing him as the dark lord, not someone close to her.
-lastly, multiple povs of diff characters
are in this chapter xx)

third person pov

' "It's dark but just a game"
that's what he would say to me '

Sirius Black loved Lupin cottage.

It was beautiful, quaint, and splattered with little touches that made up the chaotic personality of Remus J. Lupin.

He sat at the kitchen table, a rickety wooden set, twiddling his thumbs as he stared down into his black coffee. Remus was by the stove, humming to a record he had turned down low as he made eggs. The smell of toast, and the bacon in the center of the table, invade Sirius's senses as he sighs.

The floor creaks and Sirius turns his head in the direction of the doorway to find his daughter there, looking odd in one of Remus's sweaters and a pair of his sweatpants.

Remus casts a quick look over his shoulder. "Good morning," He calls.

She gestures to the clothes on her body with one hand, "You are a big human, Remus Lupin."

"Oi," Remus laughs, his head shaking as he focuses back onto the eggs.

Rose yawns, sluggishly pulling out the chair from across Sirius.

"Morning," He says, sitting up a bit straighter.

Rose uses both hands to cover her face, rubbing at her skin. "Morning,"

"You sleep okay?"

"Yeah," She says, seeming to wake up some more as she props chin face up with a hand. "Sorry about last night."

"Don't be." Sirius and Remus say in sync.

Rose raises her brows, a half-smile on her lips. In short time, Remus comes over, dishing out eggs onto his and Sirius plates. Rose waves him off, claiming she's not hungry, but he holds up a finger, and then he returns with a steaming cup of coffee.

"Go on," Remus says, placing his hand on the back of her chair. "Try my coffee, and then try telling me it's not the best thing you ever tasted."

She reluctantly puts the mug to her lips, blowing at the top for only a second before taking a sip.

Right after, she takes another sip, this one much larger. And then she smiles up to him like the damned.

Remus smiles right back, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he rounds the table and takes a seat next to Sirius.

Her eyes narrow as she brings a leg up, laying her chin on it. "What's your secret, Lupin?"

"Ah," Remus winks, "Can't tell you that."

"Your evil," Rose rolls her eyes. "But this is fucking amazing."

"It's his natural state," Sirius says, "And you see that sweater of his you got on? It's how he entraps you into never leaving this damn cottage."

Remus nods. "I put little trackers in the sleeves."

"Excuse me?"

Remus wiggles his eyebrows, "You'll never escape me now."

Rose rolls her eyes again, a smile on her lips as she sits up and takes another sip from the mug.

Sirius watches her mannerisms, allowing himself the softness of this morning and the daylight flooding from the glass-paned windows to study her. The way she holds her chin a little higher than others. How quick she is to push her hair behind her ears after setting down the coffee. The tiny scar across her jaw. How melodic her laughter sounds as Remus talks to her about letting Jade roam outside and how much Nyx had scared them last night.

"I," Sirius chokes up, gaining the two others attention on himself. He shakes his head, pressing two fingers into his forehead. "I can't remember your birthday." He breathes out, "Gods, I can't even remember my own."

He feels a soft hand glide around his wrist, and he looks up at his daughter with glassy eyes. She pulls his hand down onto the table, as if she can understand what so many years in Azkaban has done to him, but quickly lets go.

"I was born July twenty-fifth." Rose says.

"Your birthday is November third, uh," She pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "Oh, and you were born under an Aries moon like me."

Sirius lets a sad smile slip, attempting to weave their fingers together, but she moves her hand completely out of reach.

She clears her throat. "About yesterday,"

"We can get you out." Sirius repeats, the same one from the night before.

"No, you can't." Rose wraps her hands around the mug with a heavy sigh. "I made the unbreakable vow, multiple vows."

Remus drops his fork onto his plate, the sound of metal hitting ceramic echoing as the air grows thick.

"Why...why," Sirius breathes out, his chest moving up and down. "Why would you ever do such a thing?!"

"I had to." She says, through gritted teeth. "You don't understand."

"You had to make not one, but multiple unbreakable vows with Voldemort?!" Sirius shouts, "You didn't have to do that, Rosalie!"

"I'm sorry not everyone got the privilege of running to some safe house!"

Remus places a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Sirius," He warns.

"No!" Sirius shoves his hand off. "I want to know how you were forced into doing such irreversible acts!"

"I did it for the people I care about!" She shouts, her hands planting on the table.

"For those guys, you mean?!" Sirius shouts back, "It is one thing to be forced into such, but another to make vows that prevent you from ever leaving for a group of guys?!"

"Yes!" She all but screams, "I love them more than anything! How is that so different from you being willing to abandon your child with no mother to go kill the man that betrayed your friends, huh?!"

"She is right, Sirius." Remus mutters, "You were willing to leave everything behind for revenge."

"Rosalie," Sirius breathes out, clutching at his forehead and shaking his head. "You are too much like me for your own good." He says, before lifting his head up. She stares at him, appearing ready to rip out his throat. "I was foolish, driven mad by love. I did not wish to see you repeat my mistakes in any form...Do you understand what you've gotten yourself involved in? Are you truly willing to sit in front of me and say you are fine with the people who will be harmed because of your love for men you do not know would do the same for you?"

"Let me inform you of something," Rose spat, "I would be willing to let everyone in this would die brutal death's if it meant saving them. I don't care about what I have to do, you mistake me for some weak girl." She pauses. "And how foolish of you to say they wouldn't do the same. Each of them, every last one, would do anything for me. Unlike your old friend group, the one where you not trusting Remus cost the Potter's their lives, we have undying loyalty. I know you may think you understand, that you felt the same about Peter Pettigrew, but I can promise you we are all close in a way you cannot begin to comprehend."

Sirius feels a knife driven into his chest, one that Remus twists as he looks away from him. Never once in recent years has Sirius Black not regretted his wavering faith in Remus Lupin. His daughter was right, he had practically taken away Lily and James' lives by trusting Peter Pettigrew more.

Things had been complicated then though.
His daughter's eyes show remorse for mentioning them, and he is not angry. Maybe her words were exactly what he needed to hear, something to remind him that she is just as human as he.

"Do you know what happened to my brother?" Sirius asks.

Rose takes a deep breath, clearly to calm herself, and says nothing.

"He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely." Sirius sounds like a ghost of himself. "I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out." He scoffs. "Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death. Regulus was soft, believing every word that man preached and in the end he became too afraid."

She does not have the reaction he expects, only nods her head ever so slightly.

"I bring this up because you have to realize how deep this is." Sirius says, "You are my daughter, and I would have protected you from this. You must understand, Voldemort is no Grindelwald. He is more powerful, more sadistic, and thousands died the first time around—who knows how many will perish because of him this time."

There is an instant calmness to her, a semblance of acceptance across her face.

"But you couldn't protect me, and that's okay. Even if you had been here, if the Dark Lord told me it was between choosing the light or saving the ones I care for, I still would have picked them. Nothing can change that, even if I had complete safety, I would choose this path to be by their side." She says, "You don't have to speak to me anymore, I will genuinely understand that. But...I do need you to keep this secret. You can hate me, but don't be the reason I get killed. And it's not that serious yet, I don't have the mark."

Remus shifts, "I can speak for both of us when I say this does not change anything. We would obviously never tell, never would we risk your life."

"I just," Sirius shakes his head. "Where is your sense of self? Giving up your freedom to protect men that you owe nothing to?"

"Why are you talking to me like doing so means I don't know who I am? That I am pathetic?" Rose shoots back, "If they were to do the same for me, you would be proud of them taking risks and being so caring. Actually, why should I not be considered brave for being selfless for someone I love?"

Sirius stares at his daughter. She stares back at him. They are mirrors of each other, but nothing alike at the same time. In another life, Sirius would have been there when she learned to read, when she tried a broom for the first time, when a boy made her cry, when she needed someone to braid her hair, when she got her Hogwarts letter, when she picked out her favorite hobbies....

But here he sits before his child, and he does not know a single thing about her.

He does not know her favorite color. He does not know if she prefers the mornings, or nights when the moon sits high above. He does not know what she is good at, or what she is bad at. He does not know what makes her angry, or what makes her sad. He does not know if she enjoys hugs. He does not know her favorite meal. He does not if she is left-handed like himself. He does not know if she finds places like this cottage disgsuting, or if she has been able to remain immune to his parents teachings.

He. Does. Not. Know. Anything.

But he will not make the same mistake he made with Regulus, nor will he tell the Order anything that she has said.

"I will not fight against you." Sirius breathes out in a rush. "And I won't abandon you again."

"That's a nice thought," She says, as if she does not believe him. "There's a lot more to it though."

An angry, pounding knock goes off against the wooden door at the front of the cottage, a door they cannot see in the kitchen, but the knocks are so powerful that they float into their ears.

Remus stands from his chair, muttering to himself as he exits the kitchen with haste.

Sirius watches him go, and then says, "We can figure this out."

Rose opens her mouth, but stops, sitting herself up straight at the sound of a heavy herd of steps, and loud angry voices. "Prepare yourself." She says to Sirius, before sighing up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, it is not Remus who is returning through the swinging door that leads into the kitchen.

No, it is four men that walk into the kitchen; each of them appearing equally angry and tense. They surround her like a pack of savage dogs, ready to tear into her for everything she has.

A boy, in a black hoodie, with brown curls atop of his head slams down a copy of the Prophet in front of Rose, and then he leans over her chair.

"You come to us!" This boy spat out, "I don't give a shit if it's the Dark Lord, you come to us!"

"Theodore," Rose sighs.

Okay, so that's the Nott one.

Two more leaned on the side of the table towards her, one with bright hair, practically blocking Sirius's view. The last one stands behind her chair, his hands holding the wooden poles at the top as he sends the most vile glare toward Sirius: Blaise Zabini, he realizes, from pictures in the Prophet.

He knows Malfoy from the head of white hair.

"He's right." Malfoy spat, "You tell us everything, you don't get to go at things alone."

"Do you hear him?!" Nott continued on, pulling her chin in his direction. "You tell us. Always."

The one beside Draco, with a head of messy brown hair, a boy he cannot see the face of, finally speaks up with a voice too familiar. "Not your pathetic excuse of a fucking father."

Sirius recoils back in his seat, beyond offended by who he assumes to be the Rosier, and slightly confused on how they could pretend he was not witnessing all of this.

Rose sighs, again, peering around at each of them. "I'm okay, I swear it."

"We need to go." Rosier says, standing upright. "We have that thing to do today."

"Well," Rose says. "I need to get in a shower before we go."

"You can shower here."

Everyone turns their attention to the doorway, where Remus Lupin leans with arms crossed.

Draco drops a bag onto the table. "Brought you some clothes."

"Who...picked them out?" She wonders.

Blaise moves his hands onto her shoulders with a squeeze. "Don't worry, I did."

"Oh thank Merlin," She breathes out and stands up, slipping past Nott and over to Remus. Pausing in front of the man, she puts a hand on his chest. "And don't you worry," Her feet carry her out of the doorway, "I always have shampoo in my bag!"

Remus laughs, head shaking as he goes to follow behind her, but stops short, casting a glance to the boys. "Keep an eye on that escapee for me, eh?"

And just like that, Remus is gone.

And in no time at all, each of the boys are sitting across from Sirius, all of them wearing matching looks of distaste.

He gets his confirmation about Rosier being Rosier, as he sees the scars on the edges of the boy's face, and he takes the time to study him. One would think, in the Smiths shirt and dark corduroy jacket he would be out of place, but no. He blends right in with the others, even with the scars on his skin.

Maybe it is in the way he held himself.

Either way, Sirius already has his own distaste for the boy.

"So," Sirius says, fingers brushing over his mug. "You're Malfoy—"

"What do you want from her?" Rosier says, harsh as ever.

"I want a relationship with my daughter." Sirius says.

Nott scoffs, and leans back into his seat, his scrutinizing gaze only worsening.

"What a load," Malfoy spat. "You don't want a relationship with her."

Sirius holds back his inner thoughts, and the urge to punch all three of these boys in particular. They remind him too much of their father's, three of the men he hated most. Zabini on the other hand might be watching him hatefully, but he has no prejudices toward the boy's mother.

"You will leave her alone." Rosier speaks as if this is a demand. "She doesn't need you, or any of your false promises."

"I will attempt to put this as nicely as possible, but she is my daughter." He says, "None of you get to make decisions for me and her. I am her family, you are not."

In creepily perfect synchronization, they all look to Nott, and he keeps his focus on Sirius before giving a small nod that Sirius knows is not meant for him. They are speaking a language he doesn't understand, something only learned by shared time.

Nott leans his arms onto the table with a mocking look on his face. "You don't get a say in this, Sirius." He laughs to himself. "I know what you are thinking, you don't get one but we do? The answer is yes. It's our job to protect her from leeches like yourself. Blood does not make you family. Loyalty, willingness to do anything, putting one another above all else; that is family. You most surely failed on the last part, but don't fret. I'm sure Harry Potter is still in need of a father."

Now this, these words, force Sirius's anger to the surface instantly.

"Protect her, you say?" Sirius asks, "Like how you all protected her from Voldemort?"

"She is a headstrong woman, too stubborn for her own good." Malfoy says. "But she is not an animal to be controlled. We could not keep her from doing that behind our backs. But," There is venom is his voice, "You must believe us to be some foolish people forced into something awful. We have agency, a stronghold with the Dark Lord."

Sirius grips onto the mug so tightly his knuckles begin to turn white. "You can sit here and tell me you are fine with him using my daughter then?!"

Nott shakes his head, as if the question is idiotic. "She is a lot smarter than you give her credit for." He says, "Imagine the smartest people you've ever heard of. Now, think of her being five steps ahead. She is truly maddened, but in the most brilliant way. A level of genius that is only accessed by giving in to the madness...The Dark Lord has blind spots, underestimates her, just as yourself. I can promise you now though, that there is not a world in which Rosalie Black is ever fully fighting for him. But there is also not a world where she will tell you, or an outsider, any of her plans."

"Am I an outsider to my daughter's life?"

Zabini, for the first time, speaks up, "Everyone who is not us is."

A hand slams onto the table, making Sirius tense until he is looking over at Rosier. "For the last fucking time, she is not your daughter." He spat, "I did the things you were supposed to, we all did those things. You don't get to sit here and claim that title as if you've done anything to earn it. You haven't. The only things you've done is abandon her for a revenge plot, come back after fifteen years away and barely say more than two words, chosen your best friend's son over her, and what? Blamed her for her mother's death because you were drunk? As if that is some excuse?! You were never there, for anything. You will never, ever have a say in her damn life until I buried in my grave."

"I was in Azkaban!"

"Because of your own willingness to leave your child behind!" Rosier snaps back. "So excuse me if I don't feel sorry for you of all people."

Somewhere, Evan Rosier is clapping.

And James Potter is crying; the only thing he does these days.

"You're not special," Nott says, a displeased look on his face. "But she is. Life's hard, get over it and leave her be. She has enough people looking after her, she might want you, but she won't ever need you."

"I want to know," Malfoy begins, "Would you become a Deatheater for her?"

What a ridiculous question, Sirius thinks. In what world would he ever join Voldemort? That is the one thing he could never do, something that would ruin him and his values to the core.

Malfoy seems to already know his answer as he speaks up again, "What is the point of power if you can't protect what you love?"

"Maybe he doesn't love her," Nott mocks, "Maybe he just needs a vault key."

Sirius hates them.

He has never met more insufferable people, and he is just about to stand up and chew them out for such insane insinuations when Rose walks back in, the sound of heels turning his focus. She is still shrugging on a leather jacket as she moves inside, and Sirius cannot seem to take his eyes off of her because of how grown she is. It feels as if only yesterday she was a baby laying in his arms, and now she is a woman.

"Ready to go?" She asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she gives the boys before him curious eyes.

"Mhm," Nott stands up first, tossing an arm around the girl and bringing her in close. He leans down, whispering something Sirius cannot hear into her ear, and she smiles with her eyes rolling—pressing a hand into his chest.

It is not fair that they have seen her at every phase of her life.

"Draco, love," She calls, "Can you get Nyx out of their living room for me?"

Malfoy gives Sirius one more distasteful look before getting up and walking out of view. Zabini follows in pursuit of him, and Rosier stands up, leaning into her and says something Sirius cannot hear once again.

Her brows furrow before she gives him a nod and turns to Sirius. "You can write to me if you wish," She says, "But I think it's best if this doesn't go any further. Thank you though, for promising to keep this between us."

His daughter does not hug him.

She leaves, as quick as the wind.

But Nott hangs behind, waiting until Rose slips out of the revolving door before turning to Sirius with one of the most empty, cold, and demeaning gazes he has ever witnessed.

"Stay away from her." Nott demands. "I don't care how old you are, what family you come from, I don't even care if you run to Dumbledore. Stay away from her or I'll put you somewhere far worst than where you've been for fifteen years, and when all is said and done, I'll go to Azkaban with a smile on my face."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise." Nott vows before scoffing. "You are as pathetic and weak as I thought you'd be."

*

The day blurred into nothingness as they skipped their classes, hiding away in their back corner of their library. This wasn't unusual, but their 'book club' had been inconsistent as of recent. No matter, things were normal once more.

Rose had pushed open one of the gigantic windows that reached the floor, stepped out onto the miniature balcony, not one meant to be used, and lit a cigarette. Whitman stepped up behind her, to tell her they were almost finished, and as if she knew she tossed the cigarette down into the outdoor ashtray.

From behind, he could see her tug at the top of that dark turtle neck.

He hated how even in the midday sun, he couldn't help but notice how her inky hair held zero warmth, not even a peak of golden hue.

It was the smallest details that drove him mad.

She brushed past him like a cool winter night, the cashmere over her arms pressing into his overheated skin. She smelled of smoke, and mint, and curled a finger over her shoulder to direct him into following.

There were only four plush leather chairs, all forming such a tight knit circle that the arm rests were all touching in some form. Rose claimed she wouldn't need a chair today, much to Theo and Draco's pleasure of volunteering to be her personal seats.

Whitman dropped back into his chair by Theo and Blaise, leaning back as comfortably as Draco and Blaise had been doing. Rose stopped by Theo, who hissed as he finally finished squeezing the blood from his opened wounded hand into a golden-rimmed chalice.

"Hush, baby," Rose reprimanded, pulling his hand into her own with curious eyes. Theo sat back with a sigh, letting her inspect the hand.

In the most disturbing turn of events, Rose dragged her pointer finger over the open slit, clearly healing the cut, but collecting his blood on her finger before she placed it in her mouth.

"Mental," Draco mutters, but with a smile. "The both of you. Mental."

Theo smirked like the devil himself up at her, his hands reaching for her thigh to tug her over. She stumbles between his legs, pawing him away as she mumbles about not being able to sit yet. Theo doesn't listen, turning his chin up to challenge her.

"Better not let my girl see you doing that,"

"What is she going to do?" Rose wonders, "Kill me for having a taste of your blood?"

Theo's eyes glint. "Likely," He says, tugging her closer by her thigh, "She's known to be quite testy, territorial too."

"Is she a dog?" Rose questioned, bringing her lips to his knuckles, "Tell her to fuck off, I can be much better."

Theo shook his head, free hand going over his heart as his nails dug into her skin. "I'm afraid I have fallen too deep in love for such things..."

Rose grinned, leaning over his seat and tipping his chin up with a finger. "A loyal man? Rare thing these days..."

"Rare indeed," Theo murmured, bringing their lips together shamelessly.

Blasie sighed, looking at Whitman. "So, she's a lovesick vampire then?"

Rose laughs while pulling away from Theo and drops down to her knees between his and Whitman chair, her focus going onto the short coffee table in the center of them all. She pulls the chalice in front of herself, glancing up at Draco and Blaise, "Everyone finish putting their blood in?"

"Yes ma'am," Draco says, leaning forward on his knees with a wink.

"Hm." She runs her finger, at a slow pace, around the gold rim. "And you are all still in agreement with having some of your power stolen for the night?"

"I wish you all wouldn't." Whitman says, fierceness in his voice.

"Mate, I think we're a bit past this nonsense," Theo says, gaining a raised brow from Whitman. "Listen, we'd all do anything to have your night be a little more bearable. I mean, I believe any of us would switch places with you in a heartbeat if we could."

"Yeah," Blasie affirms, keeping two fingers to his forehead as he tries to ignore Rose murmuring to herself like a mad woman. "Even if that is doing dark magic that our very dear best friend has made up."

Whitman grumbles, muttering curse words to himself.

"Okay then, enough complaining." Rose snaps her head up. "No one freak out if you feel a little nausea, or when I get—well, when I look a little different."

Whitman leaned forward on his knees, looking over her shoulder with concern. "What does that mean?"

"You'll see." Draco says, a smile forming on his lips.

She feels Theo's hand on her shoulder, and then feels it slip beneath her hair and onto her neck. His lips come closer to her ear, murmuring, "I'll keep you grounded."

And he always will.

She nods, her eyes falling close on a heavy breath.

No one could quite tell what happened in the library that day, or how it happened. But in the midst of two minutes, they had seen their best friend stop breathing, witnessed a stream of black veins flow from her fingertips up and disappear beneath her sleeves, and had never been more thankful for the silencing charm they casted in their space after more than a few books flew off their shelves.

By the end of it, they were all leaned in so close, so on edge, that they were practically touching her.

Suddenly, Rose's head snapped up, a breathless smile on her face. In sync, the others let out a breath of relief, all in their own form of worry melting away.

"So, maybe it needs a few tweaks...maybe less magic." She says, before quickly turning serious as she looks around. "Everyone feel alright?"

No one managed to speak at first, forcing strained nods.

"I," Draco breathes out, touching his chest in discomfort. "I feel drained, but I can't tell if it's my anxiety or the spell."

Rose lets out a small laugh. "I'm fine, love." She says to Draco, pulling Theo's hand off of her and pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. "Thank you."

Theo nods again, forced, his jaw tight as he stares at her skin where the inky look once was.

"Ro," Whitman spat, with more anger than he intended. "Should we be concerned about...whatever that was on your skin?"

"No," She says, standing up from the floor with the chalice in her hands. "Just a side effect of years full of dark magic," She comes to a standstill between his legs, pushing on his chest to force him right back into being fully relaxed in the chair. "Actually, it just means I'm getting more powerful."

Whitman stares at her long and hard, and she stares back, challenging. He decides right then to not take this further.

But what he will do is rub at his forehead and look at the enchanted chalice with hesitation.

"I don't know about drinking all of that..."

"Come on now," Theo says, regaining his composure. "It's not nasty like you think."

"Not at all." Draco says, "Not like you haven't drank all of our blood before either."

"That was different. This," He gestures to the chalice, "That's alot of fucking blood."

Rose bends her leg and places it in between his own on the chair. "Whit," She murmurs, in a sultry tone that makes each of them present open their eyes a little wider. "Do it for me."

Whitman's lips part in reaction, before forming a smirk as he sinks further back into the chair. One of his hands reaches out, wrapping around the back of her thigh. "You know I can't say no when you do that,"

Blaise went to exchange a look with the other two boys, but they seemed to be in no better condition than Whitman when it came to staring at her in a daze. He threw his hands up, confused, because Rose is supposed to be hating Whitman, not exchanging longing stares and allowing him to feel up on her thigh. "Anyone else wondering where that just came from?" He asks. "No? Just me? Okay."

She carefully places a hand on Whitman's shoulder, and brings the chalice up to his lips. His eyes want to stay on her as he wraps a hand around her own holding the chalice, but as soon as the metallic tang hits his tongue his eyes fall shut.

Maybe it was the dark magic floating inside the blood, or simply the spell she had done, but the liquid begins going down with insane ease. In fact, Whitman finds his mind going hazy as he drinks more and more.

When he does finish and look back up at her, as she pulls the empty chalice away, his blue eyes are no longer like the sky.

They are gold.

Blaise stands, taking the chalice away from Rose and placing it on the table.

She runs her thumb over his bottom lip, swiping the blood away as she asks, "You feel okay?"

Whitman nods ever so slightly, breathless during the action. A wide, sadistic smile spreads over Rose's face as she stares into his electric eyes.

But then her head snaps up and over to the entrance of their aisle between bookshelves.

Fred Weasley had just entered, walking straight toward them.

"Fuck," Rose curses, back away from Whitman. "Just try not to make eye contact."

"He'll be fine." Theo declares before reaching out and grabbing ahold of her body, yanking her down into her lap. She yelps, and he laughs, wrapping his arms around her until she is fully engulfed into his embrace.

"Theodore!" She scolds.

"Shut up." He smirks, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

As always, the group of five falls into a casual demeanor as he nears, each of them leaning back and acting to be doing anything other than illegal dark magic on an unregistered werewolf. Whitman differs though, holding his forehead as if in deep thought as magic storms into his veins.

Fred comes to a stop in between Blaise and Whitman's chair, giving a nod as Rose sends him a small smile of acknowledgement. "You guys been in here all day? No one saw you guys in class."

"Yes," Rose answers, as the other three boys stare at him coldly.

"Have you guys eaten?"

"Dobby brought us lunch and ate with us," The Black answers again, stiffening up as Theo's hand falls onto her thigh around her, becoming all too aware of his fiery touch against her skin.

"Hm." Fred nods, again. He points to the chalice, bending down only for a second in order to have a closer look. "Is that blood?"

"Oh," Rose says, as Theo relaxes further into his seat, pulling her with him. "Just a simple binding spell."

It falls silent, Fred shifting at the three glares being shot his way from Blaise, Draco, and Theo.

"What do you want with Blaise?" Theo wonders aloud.

"Because he doesn't want anything from you." Draco finishes.

Fred raises his brows. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you two were in his mind."

"We all are." Draco claims, that constant arrogance laced in his voice. "We can respect you not wanting the truth out, but Blaise has worked on himself too much to deal with pricks like you that want to use him as an experiment. It's been months, find a new boy to torment."

Rose goes to open her mouth but it would be impossible for her with Theo holding her like this, and she thinks the others can handle the situation. Therefore she stays silent, focusing on twisting Theo's rings with a million thoughts to say in defense of Blaise Zabini.

"Okay Malfoy, call me whatever you want." Fred says, "I deserve that, but—"

"But nothing." Theo interrupts with a scoff. "Go on, I don't feel like seeing your face anymore."

Fred shakes his head, eyes turning directly onto a relaxed and smirking Blaise.

"What?" Blaise wonders, his smirk falling into an icy look. "They know how I feel, I don't see a reason to speak."

"That's bullshit, and you know it." Fred spat. "This—this is your problem. Letting your fucking friends speak for you when—"

"Blaise is the best of us." Rose interrupts, sudden sharpness in her voice. Fred focuses on her at once. "I don't know if you have some misconception of how we feel about him, but I promise you that everyone here is quite ready to punch you in his name."

"Oh," Fred laughs, but there is no humor in the sound. "I get it now."

Draco looks at him unamused. "Get what? That you should be leaving?"

But Fred stares straight at Rose, his eyes filled with a spiteful glare she had never seen. "Another one, Black? Real classy."

Draco is already standing up, and Theo is beginning to lift her out of her lap, but she stops Nott by pressing into his chest and forcing him down, and raising a hand to Draco that makes him stop.

She shakes her head, one distinct time.

Silence follows, and Theo stays tense beneath her, and it takes moments for Draco to sit back down.

Afterwards, there is a look shared between each of the friends, except from Whitman, a language spoken without words that Fred Weasley will never understand.

Rose turns her gaze right back onto Fred. "Yes." She answers, so simply and so proudly. Her body relaxes into Theo's as she hooks her arm around his neck. "Now run along, you had months to fix things with him and you didn't. Can't blame a girl, can you?"

Fred scoffs, and then sucks in a rush of air. And then, he rushes off.

They all sit in silence until he has made it down the aisle of books, ducked out of their sight, and disappeared into another part of the library.

"Well," Blaise grins, tapping the armrests of his chair. "The whole school will know about that in," He checks the watch on his wrist. "Approximately an hour."

"Never cared what they have to say anyways." Rose declares, pausing to wipe indivisible dust from Theo's cheek. "If I did, I'd never be able to leave my home."

"That's my girl." Draco shoots her a wink. Then, he turns to Blaise. "You alright, Blaise?"

Blaise tips his head back with a sigh. "Don't worry mate, the whole of Hogwarts is about to think I'm shagging your girlfriend." He sends a suddenly annoyed Draco a big smirk. "I'm more than fine, thanks for asking."

"Blaise," Draco repeats.

The boy groans and sits himself upright. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine. That bloke had months upon months to try apologizing, who cares at this point?"

Unknown to everyone else, Rose and Theo had begun a staring competition.

Her eyes demanding he do nothing crazy.

His eyes vowing to do the complete opposite.

"Say," Theo speaks up, eyes still trained on Rose. "You reckon I should go hit him still?"

"Just needed to make sure Blaise was fine," Draco stands up, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. "Now we can go, Theo."

Theo sweeps Rose up in his arms all too quickly before setting her to the ground.

"No!" Rose shouts, her hands going in between the two. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you sit yourself down in that chair!" She pauses. "And you, Theodore, I will bury both of you in the deepest pits of the world if you go after him!"

Rose was angry for Blaise, but she also understood that Fred wasn't himself, and he was dealing with something every average human entering adulthood does: their sexuality.

*

Rose stood alone in a massive clearing, deep inside the Forbidden Forest. She hugged her fur coat tighter around her limbs in desperation for warmth. Christmas break was so soon, and they had only just began to receive the first snow of the year.

Seven days ago they had taken their leafs out of their mouths; an utterly disgusting experience for them all. They simply met in the same clearing Rose now stood in, put the leaf in each of their own crystal phials and added one of their hairs. Then, leaving their mixtures to sit and receive pure rays of the sun and moonlight.

Now though, they started the hard part of the process. Rose needed to collect five Death's-head Hawk Moths, and use a silver teaspoon to collect dew from a place no sunlight or human feet had touched.

She had just returned from a cave near the outer edge of Scotland (surprised she didn't splinch herself) and it was the sixth place she tried to find something untouched by mankind. It was harder than one would think, since in her opinion men had ruined everything by their refusal to leave things untouched.

Rose hums a Fleetwood Mac song to herself as she walks in a circle, her feet crunching on the pearly white snow. And at some point, as the snowflakes continued to rain down on her, she found herself lifting the Gaunt ring to her lips and staring at the imprints of her boots in the thick snow.

The Latin fell off her tongue fluidly, "My lord."

A moment passed by before the Dark Lord's voice entered her mind, "Rosalie, I must confess I did not think you would be speaking to me until I forced you to do so."

She smiles to herself. "Have you seen the snow? It's quite beautiful."

Somewhere in England, the Dark Lord found himself wandering to the window and looking out before daring to respond to her.

"I much prefer it to the awful summers."

Rose's eyes swept over her eerie surroundings. Here she is completely alone, no birds chirping or leaves rustling in the wind like they did in the fall.

"I adore winter," She says, "It is my favorite season."

It was clear the Dark Lord allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. "And why is that, Rosalie?"

"Contentment comes with the cold, the season is so still." She pauses, kicking the snow. "I think I like how bruising the cold is against my skin, and bundling up for warmth. It feels like a lonely season but not all at once. Running inside for warmth. I don't know...I love everything about it—the way my coffee feels different, tastes different. It's...It's hard to explain."

Again, he was somewhere watching the glistening snow pour down as he urged her on. "Tell me more,"

It is times like this she forgets how much she hates him.

In these moments, she forgets that he is the world's biggest enemy and that she is just a woman.

"Well, sometimes it feels like we are living the same day over and over during the winter but right before it gets dark here, there's always this moment when the sky turns orange and everything seem so bright for a passing minute...and it's so quiet in the morning and everyone appreciates the sound of a fire crackling more...There's times I wish it would leave but as soon as it does I miss it," She stops, laughing to herself. "Merlin, I was ranting."

"I, for once, can say I didn't mind hearing your incessant voice go on and on."

She looks up, wanting to remember the first snowfall of the year, begs herself to remember how much the powdery substance glistens as she speaks to him.

"You remind me of winter, you know?" She wonders aloud, "You are a cold, cold man, but yet your skin burns...you're electric too, unsettling and chilling but also, annoyingly so, you are so comfortable and full of false safety...like all the things I listed—you have more in common with the season than imaginable," She shakes her head at the realization. "Does that make sense to you?"

"No need to make my existence sound so poetic, Rosalie."

She laughs, keeping the ring close as she brushes the melting snow off of her face. "Please, I've got nothing on the poets of this world."

"I believe you could challenge them if you truly found the desire inside of yourself."

"Is this your attempt to make me fall in love with you?" She wonders, "It won't work, I'm afraid."

The sound of him sighing sends a chill up her spine.

"I don't not believe in such foolish things, Rosalie."

Her stomach twisted uncontrollably, forcing her into a thick silence.

"Rosalie? Are you well?"

She cleared her throat before responding, "Love...spooky little thing, isn't it?"

"Disgusting actually, but I assume it is terrifying for those who let themselves be weakened by it."

"You've never thought about what it would be like to love someone?" She asks, beginning to walk in a circle once again.

He spoke blankly, "No, and the day I do I ask you to give me the mercy of killing me. I will allow you to drive the blade into my heart, take away every part of my immortality."

Rose rolls her eyes at his dramatics. "It's not so bad." She mutters, her voice creating smoke around the ring as snow crunches beneath her feet from the cold air. "It isn't always a weakness either. You just think that because no one has ever put effort into you."

"Oh darling," He seems to laugh. "I can't feel any emotions."

"You can feel anger, that much I know."

"Yes." He says, "Anger, desire, obsession...but never love. Even then, those are fading always. You are one of the few people who know my true history, you know the ability to love is something I could never do. Even if I wanted it, which I don't. I am purely disgusted by the idea of it."

"That is mere speculation by Dumbledore because of the love potion." Rose corrects, almost embarrassingly quick. "Your inability to feel or understand love is due to your own choices."

"I believe him correct about that one thing, I was born as sick as he wishes to claim." He says, "I wonder though, why is this a topic you insist on bringing up?"

"No, I—" She shakes her head, taking the Gaunt ring away from her lips for only a moment. "Could you even be with anyone? Is there a rule book that says no partners for 'the Dark Lord'?"

"My Rosalie," He says, and she can tell there is a amused smirk on his face. "I can do as I please, but it is forbidden. The people would think her my weakness. They would make her a target. Use her against me. And what if she were a Deatheater? That would be quite the scandal, and very wrong indeed. So yes, going back to what I said before, it is forbidden." He briefly pauses. "That does not matter though. I see no point in such connections, highly disgusted by them."

"But what about Bellatrix?"

"What about Bellatrix? I was never with her."

"She is a Deatheater, and she had your child."

"And? I saved Bellatrix from becoming a woman people step on in the world. When rumors spread about me wanting an heir, she took it upon herself to offer. There was nothing more to it and everyone knew that, she never has wished for foolish things from me. Her loyalty and devotion stems from thankfulness, not love." He continues on, "Besides, while I do believe she is interested in men, I am not the gender she prefers above all else. I think she saw it as some honor, that is all."

Rose raised both of her brows in surprise. "Oh..."

"Try not sound so relieved, Rosalie."

"What?!" She splutters, "I—I sounded like no such thing!"

"Now you sound...flustered?" He mocks, "My, my, Rosalie. Did you seriously believe the people considered me to be with her?"

"I—" Rose's eyes go wide. "I have to go! Goodbye, goodnight, try jumping off a cliff and staying at the bottom until you rot with the leafs!"

And then, the centaur's appeared from behind the trees.

And Rosalie Black remembers she does indeed hate him—blames him for everything.

*

When the boys arrived at the place they were set to meet Rose, Draco stopped, halting the line of the others behind himself.

"Is she...sitting down with a bunch of centaurs?"

Whitman peaked out from behind him, his brows bunching together. "She's sitting on one actually,"

They all watched her hold out her cigarette to a blonde, pale centaur who instantly swatted at her hand.

Theo peaked out from behind Whitman before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh," He says, "That's just Firenze and his groupies."

Draco furrowed his brows, looking over his shoulder at Theo oddly. "Firenze? What the fuck, Theo?"

An arrow shot straight at Draco's head, making him turn around and flick his hand at once, deflecting the object wandlessly.

Rose seemed to notice their presence and jumped up, shouting incoherent words at the creatures.

Draco scoffed, straightening out his gloves and heading right towards her. "Bloody centaurs, always hating humans."

In perfect sync, Rose ran up to Draco and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm freezing!" She mutters into his shoulder, and Draco gives her a breathy chuckle, spinning his witch around.

After he sets her down, Draco shoots her a stern look before taking off his scarf and beginning to wrap the link of cashmere around her neck.

Theo takes his time making his way over, "You've been gone for hours, love. I put a hat on you for a reason."

"I got hot—" She chokes up as Draco continues wrapping the scarf, and swats at his hands. "That's enough!"

Draco rolled his eyes, tucking the end of the scarf into the suffocating loop he created. "There," He says, pulling back to check her over. "Now you won't die from a pathetic disease like ammonia."

Rose gave him a weak smile, trying to keep breathing.

"I'm stuck wondering how you made friends with those beasts..." Whitman speaks up, watching the centaurs gallop away.

"No they are not beasts! They are kind men!"

Theo finally stepped beside Draco, a tender smile on his face, reminding her how much her heart could clench at the sight. "Oh love," He says, sliding a hand onto her cheek. "You never met a monster you couldn't love. And that is what those things are, monsters who kill people like us."

"Mhm," Draco hummed, beginning to adjust the scarf again. "It's just who you are. What's the spider's name you go visit with that fat oaf?"

Rose huffed, even though she loved Draco for being so fussy over her, and remembered how happy she genuinely was with life as Theo pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Them both here, it made everything better.

"Aragog," She answers, softer than she meant to. "And don't call Hagrid an oaf. He is...beautiful."

Blaise laughed loudly. "Yeah," He says, "Beautiful as the Goblins guarding all of my vaults."

"I'm going to find all of your phials..." Whitman mutters, moving away from them.

Theo's hand falls from her cheek, onto her neck as his eyes are taken by the sky.

"What is it?" Rose asks.

Draco follows his gaze. "Oh," He says, before tilting her chin up toward the starry sky. "You see Regulus, Rosie?"

"He's a bright one," She breathes out, "Isn't he?"

"Always been your favorite," Draco murmurs, "Second to my own, of course."

"I want my own star." Theo declares, and before her or Draco can look at him, he scoops Rose off the ground, making her squeal and reach widely to hold onto him. "Ro," He pauses, voice serious. "Will you make a star for me?"

"No!" She declares, trying her best to school her face, but it is hard with how happy she is.

Theo narrows his eyes, and sighs, tossing her over his shoulder.

"No, no, wait!"

"Could've had this the easy way," Theo sighs again, shaking his head beginning to walk forward.

Rose chokes up on giggles, swatting at his back. "Theodore Tiberius Nott!"

"Do you hear something, Draco?" Theo asks. "I believe it is just the wind howling."

"Not a sound in my ears." Draco says. Whitman yells at them all, shouting about finding crystal phials as Rose excepts her fate with a grumble. After, Draco shares a look with Theo, being two of the three who know exactly where the cave is. "The cave is close by."

"How do you know that?" Blaise shouts, many feet away with Whitman.

"We fucked there!" Rose shouts, gaining eye rolls from Draco and Theo.

"Excuse me?!" Whitman shouts, "In a cave?! Are you lot rabid animals now?!"

"It was fun!" Rose protests, "They had to chase me and find me! One after the other! And Draco got to me—" A harsh smack on her behind makes her stop. "Oi! Fuck whichever of you did that!"

"Theo, I expect as much from you." Whitman declared as the pair of three nears him. "But Draco? A cave, really?"

"Hm," Draco stood beside Whitman, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder and looking out into where the thick trees begin outside their cleared circle. "Should I have taken her to the closet you decided to? Made her have a different memory there?"

Whitman stands speechless as Draco steps into the forest.

Theo follows in pursuit, but stops by Whitman. "He did, by the way." Pausing briefly, "Oh, and then I did too."

Draco's sadistic and pompous laughter echos from ahead.

Rosalie Black's face has never been so red.

Regardless, they made their way into the deep, deep woods. Rose ignored everyone's complaints as she kept telling them to go further and further, and Blaise began a rant on how they were not made to be in the cold for so long.

But eventually they reached their destination; the usual top of the cave covered in a blocker of snow, but the onyx colored stones were visible from the arched entrance. Theo set her to the ground, sending her wobbling and only staying balanced because of his hands latching onto her waist.

In Rose fashion, she swats him away, demanding she is completely fine.

"You realize how expensive these shoes are?" Blaise wonders, aggravation in his voice. "I am quite literally trudging through the fucking snow in Italian leather."

"We're all 'trudging' the snow in expensive shit, Blaise." Theo lays his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Suck it up."

"Exactly!" Rose points to Theo with a smile. "Now listen, when we go inside it's going to be dark but I'll put a light at the top of the cave."

Whitman gazed over at the boys before looking straight ahead at Rose. "You know...you guys don't have to do this."

"We would do anything," Rose says, "Ger over yourself."

Theo ruffled Whitman's unruly hair, repeating her earlier words with a smirk. "Anything for our Whit, yeah?"

Whitman swatted Theo away with a smile.

Rose opens up her jacket and Draco almost looses it at the amount of stuff inside of her pocket, placing a hand over his face with pure laughter.

She narrows her eyes at him, and says, "Everyone needs a moth and a silver teaspoon of dew—come collect."

Draco was the first to get to her, his lips pulling up when she handing him a moth with a sudden sad expression. Was it demented that his girlfriend cared more for the lives of insects than humans? Yes, but he loved her even more for it.

One by one she began handing each of them one before sighing heavily and putting her own inside the crystal phial.

Theo brushed her hair back as he finished his own. "Oh Ro," He says, holding in a laugh. "It's for a good cause"

"I hate killing innocent creatures." Rose mutters, finishing shoving her own moth inside the phial. "There's just—there's no way to justify it."

Blaise gave her a pointed look, "It's a moth-get over it."

Theo shot him a glare. "Did we not learn our lesson from the spider incident of 94' ?"

Draco shivers at a new memory. "She cursed me for killing a grasshopper once," He says, "Nearly took my head off."

Rose gasps. "His name was Ted and he had a wife! I had spent weeks building them a hut made out of grass and you killed him!"

"He wouldn't leave me alone!" Draco shot back, the intensity of their argument that had been handled at age nine coming back in full force.

"They own the land!" Rose scolds, "We humans are the invaders! You left his wife all alone!"

In the end, Rose huffs, handing Draco her phial as she reaches into her pocket again, pulling out a silver teaspoon and a small container.

"Open the phials back up,"

"Why don't you have five teaspoons?" Blaise asks, opening his own up.

Rose scooped some of the dew out, putting it into his phial while responding, "Because I don't trust any of you to measure correctly."

Blaise rolled his eyes and she swats his arm in return.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

After they finished and secured their phials closed, she tightened her jacket back up around her body, glancing into the cave and conjuring a ball of light in her hand. She throws the orb into the cave before focusing on the group once more. "I swear to every God if you all don't listen to me..." She raises her voice, "When we go in here don't look at each other. No one can know where you hid the mixture and you cannot even speak about it or think about again until we come back, understood?"

Blaise gawked at her. "How am I supposed to control my thoughts? That's impossible, Black."

Rose speaks as if it was obvious, "Just turn brain off. Now, let's go."

She surprisingly grabbed Whitman's hand, pulling him with her inside.

The inner working of the cave were dark and long, but formed a circle shape almost, and the white orb had floated to the top and center, providing minimal but enough light to see where they walked.

Rose finished first, coming to a stop in the center of the cave and lighting herself a cigarette with the belief it would warm up her body. Draco came next, and held out his hand for a smoke.

She had rolled her eyes and Siloam handed him one.

"You're never quitting," Rose tells him, "Years you've been saying that."

Draco scoffed at the accusation and took hold of her chin, pressing the tip of their cigarettes together.

Deja VU.

With his grey eyes staring into her own, her heart skips a beat.

Whitman cleared his throat.

Theo appeared under the light, guiding Blaise by the arm.

Blaise could only laugh at himself. "I got a little lost in the dark-these two had to help me" He pauses. "I shouldn't have hid it over th—"

Rose went wide eyed, throwing her body at him and tackling him to the ground.

At once, everyone doubled over with laughter.

Rose breathes heavy as she sits up on his chest, swatting at him repeatedly. "What did I just say?!"

As she begins climbing off of him, Blaise stares at Rose in shock. And when she holds out her hand to help him up, he takes it, but he slowly says, "Did you just...tackle me?"

"You cannot tell us where it is! You aren't even supposed to be thinking about it!"

Blaise turned around, Rose's mood instantly switching into laughter at the dirt all of his pants.

"I'm going to kill you!" Blaise announces, his finger pointing directly at Rose. He reaches for her, but she jumps back, shouting teasing words at him.

But of course, Blaise latches onto her shoulders and shakes the witch back and forth. "Die, Black, die!"

"Help!" Rose yelps, struggling to keep her feet planted on the ground.

Whitman steps towards them with laughter. "Let her go, Blaise."

Blaise backs them away, still holding her tightly. "No! She will pay!"

Draco steps beside Whitman, speaking sternly. "Blaise,"

"Stay out of this, Malfoy!" He shouts, pulling her further and further away.

Theo stared at Blaise, apparently menacingly enough that the boy let's go of her with a dramatic huff.

Rose hit Blaise's chest, "For Merlin sake! You were going to suffocate me!"

Blaise leans his head down towards her, whispering, "They can't protect you forever,"

A smirk spreads over her lips, right before it drops into a deep frown. "Guys...he's threatening me again,"

Theo took one step forward, and Blaise takes off in a run while laughing out of the cave.

Rose snorted, kicking her shoes in the dirty floor of the cave. "It even looks like he shit himself while running,"

Suddenly, a blue light headed straight for her from outside. Rose ducked, and gasped, yanking her wand out of her coat. "Oh," She says, "He's going to get it now"

Whitman tried to reach for her, but she apparated away in a flash.

They could her the sound of a crack outside the cave, and then the most high pitched scream that ever came out Blaise.

Theo lazily smiled. "We should probably go rescue him,"

Draco smirked as Blaise screamed again, "I say we give it a few minutes."

"She's a psychopath!" They heard Blaise scream, the sound of running coming back into the cave. "Help!"

*

Hermione Granger had been looking for Rosalie Black all day. She spotted Rose in the corridor after classes, but the Black was tucked away on the wall between Nott and Malfoy, in a moment that looked so happy Hermione did not dare to interrupt.

She had never known Draco Malfoy to be anything other than a boy full of pompous jokes and selfish behavior. He seemed to drag his feet, always either wearing a blank face or a selfish grin. But, it would be impossible to not notice how he came to life with Rose nearby. In their earlier years of school, it had been when a moment of Draco being able to tease Rose came about, never in the harmful way he did others, that Malfoy would fill with life. Now, it would seem he was in a constant state of joy (which Hermione thought had greatly benefitted the Hogwarts population that he no longer felt the need to harass). His lifeless eyes glowed, his pursed lips turned into a smile so big it appeared painful. Today, he had wavered in the corridor, his fingers being played with by the Black, and he seemed enthralled by every word leaving Rose's lips as she connected the line on his palm.

Nott had cornered Rose as well, in the same exact lovesick state as Draco, as she held their hands and appeared to be comparing the lines on the boy's palms. He was a shell of himself without Rosalie Black, always would be. Theo and Rose had always been two sides of the same coin, two halves that create a whole; this much Hermione knew. She did not think she would ever be granted the pleasure of seeing people be so very in love, in the way books speak about such things.

Regardless of Hermione no longer being able to call Rose her friend, it made the muggleborn witch happy to know Rose was happy, that Rose had gotten exactly what she always wanted. And despite Hermione's judgments of both boy's, she believed she could trust them holding her ex-best friend's heart.

At this very moment though, classes had ended an hour ago and Hermione Granger was on a mission after looking out of Gryffindor tower and spotting a lonely figure trudging through the snow.

She tracked Rose down to the very edge of the frozen Black Lake, the young Black heir bundled up tightly in appropriate cold-weather clothing, and sitting alarmingly calm in the snow with her legs pulled up.

Hermione found herself smiling as she neared, finding beauty in how Rose's inky hair stood out against the blanket of white covering the ground.

When Hermione came to a stop by her side, Rose slowly turned her head up, no reaction registering on her face, but she extended her legs out, and looked back onto the frozen lake.

"A little too cold to be sitting in the snow," Hermione says.

"You get numb after a while," Rose says, and Hermione almost chokes up at hearing her raspy voice after so long.

By now, she knows she will have to sit down and join Rose in her oddities for a conversation.

So, she does just that.

"Oof," Hermione shivers, scotting herself embarrassingly close to the Black.

Rose shows no reaction, simply taking a deep breath in of the brisk evening air. Only now does she realize Rose is clutching onto a copy of the Prophet, and just as her eyes land on the copy, Rose lays it onto Hermione's lap.

Hermione is quick to scan the front page, the bold lettering making her throat close up and force the paper down into the snow—away from herself.

"Another attack," Rose says, so simply.

"It's awful..." Hermione mutters, "And they are blaming it all on Sirius?"

"Used to the whispers by now." Rose takes another deep breath, and Hermione finds herself watching in awe as the girl's eyes close and her eyelashes brush her cheeks. She is so calm, so perfectly collected all the time.

"How do you do it? How do you look at that...and just, not freak out?"

Rose's lips twitched ever so slightly. "Those who escape hell never talk about it, and nothing much bothers them after that." She pauses. "Charles Bukowski, he was onto something with those words."

Hermione shook her head, a sad smile on her lips.

"You know," Rose begins, finally turning her gaze onto Hermione. The action is so sharp, so intense that Hermione freezes. "I'll protect you still, I know it's scary for someone in your situation, but I won't let any of them hurt you."

Another sad smile crosses Hermione's lips, this one more painful. "Always my girl version of a white knight, huh?"

"Hermione?" Rose says, with a raised brow.

"Yes?"

"It's going to be okay." Rose assures, as if she can read her mind, which she probably can. "You take care of Harry, I'll always be looking out for you. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

"You don't have to do that," Hermione mutters, "I know they've been keeping you busy in the Order...at least, that's what Harry tells me."

She sees Rose's throat visibly bob.

"I know, but I will." She says, "And yeah, I'm—I am doing the best I can. Just...it's a lot, you know? Not that I'm complaining, it's fine."

"I'm sorry," Hermione blurts out.

"For what?"

"I—For suspecting you to do everything." Hermione says, and Rose instantly looks away. "That, well, it's unfair to you. You're just a kid too."

"I think sometimes we forget we were only teenagers, and only now beginning adulthood. We're allowed to make mistakes." Rose stretches her leather covered hands out onto her own knees. "I am sorry about how I acted too though, it was a rough time."

Hermione hates this. She hates that Rose will always know everything about her and tomorrow they will pass by each other as strangers do. I love you. I hate you. I miss you. I never want to speak to you again. I want to hear every detail of your life. I never want to know a single thing you do again. Mourning a best friend who has been there since you were a child is haunting, hollow, and unbearable at the best of times.

Rose was the first person to make Hermione ever feel seen in a world where she never felt such. She misses that. She misses having someone to teach her how to do makeup. She misses having someone that would go scary lengths to protect her out of pure friendship, nothing more. She misses being a girl with her. She misses Rose pushing her out of her comfort zone. She misses waking up with Rose's arms practically suffocating her. She misses Rose's madness. SHe misses Rose's softness. There are too many things to name...

The Black does not appear to mind the silence, but she does have this hazy look gloss over her gaze as she gazes around the still season, a look Hermione used to know meant she was drifting away into her own world. Maybe this was always their issue, Hermione's inability to understand Rose like the girl understood her.

"It's your season." Hermione says, drawing Rose's eyes back to herself. "I almost forgot how beautiful you looked in the snow."

The slightest smile casts over Rose's lips before she reaches for one of Hermione's curls, twirling the hair around her jeweled finger. A full smile replaces the one that had barely been there. "Just wait until fall," Rose murmurs, "That's your season."

Hermione smiles so big it hurts.

Rose pulls away, nodding as a form of reassurance right before bringing her legs back up to her chest.

Silence passes over them for only a moment.

"Are you happy now?" Hermione asks, "I heard you were both boys these days."

"Yeah, I am." Rose says, "Should've seen how long it took them to adjust, it was quite hilarious watching them fight their own internal battles and get over the toxic masculinity. I'm really happy though, I would be able to enjoy that happiness a bit more if the world wasn't busy becoming so chaotic." She pauses. "I heard about you and Padma. I'm proud of you for being able to come out, I was cheering you on from afar."

"Oh," Hermione feels her heart skip a beat at the mention of Padma. "She's amazing, Rose. I guess I should be glad that the Wizarding World is much more progressive than the muggle world...you know I couldn't even legally marry there?"

"I know," Rose says, "It's one of the reasons Blaise uses to justify his muggle hatred...claims they are bad people with bad histories. Can't imagine what that's like, knowing a world you grew up in doesnt accept you. But," She pauses, "Not all of them are like that, as if that is any solace. And you can get married in our world, which is valid. You're a witch, through and through. All that matters is that you're happy."

"I agree, and I am happy." She says.

Rose nods.

"Hey," Hermione nudges their shoulders together. "You better not let those boys distract you from accomplishing your dreams though. Thought I better tell you that now, I don't know when we'll speak again. I don't want you to get lost in the whirlwind of men."

The words sour Rose's face.

"We want different things, Hermione." She says, "You want to become the Minister of Magic, and I hope you do that. But I want to be madly in love, have a family, and work on alchemy at my home with Draco and have Theo writing his books and poetry in the garden. I can make my dreams happen while involving love."

Hermione laughs and grabs onto her shoulder pleadingly. "Rose," She says, "You are meant to lead just like I want to do."

"Maybe in another life," Rose corrects, "In this one, I want peace. I want a nice home with animals and kids running around. I want family dinners every night, and to see the world with the people I love until I am old and gray. Experience life in every way with those closest to me. How is that a less impactful footprint? How is that lessening me being a powerful woman?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying!" Hermione says, "You're just too talented, beautiful, and smart to be reduced down into a housewife!"

Rose recoils away, a disgusted look on her face. "Is that what you think I want? And what if it was?" She snaps, "Our dreams are different, but mine are just as important as your own."

This is the moment Hermione realizes there is no maybe that she never understood Rose. She clearly never has, her idea of the girl so far off and misshapen. Now that she really thinks about it, and watches as the girl stares at her with a fiery gaze, Hermione comes to the conclusion she might not have ever truly taken the time to even try understanding Rose.

Rose did, that much she knows, Rose always understood her.

But she didn't. It was probably only surface level that Hermione ever scratched, or maybe she just does not have the type of mind that could ever comprehend someone like Rosalie Black, because in no universe did Hermione imagine those being Rose's 'big dreams'.

Either way, Rose stands up and does not hesitate to walk away.

And this time, Hermione lets her.

*

Only two days before Yule break, Rose found herself in quite the predicament. Walking up and down the dungeons corridor while whispering to the Dark Lord in Latin. "You want me to break them all out?"

His response came sharp, "Stop pacing. I can practically hear your incessant steps from here."

She scoffed. "Excuse me if I am a little confused about this plan."

"The dementors have pledged their allegiance, Rosalie. Simply fly with Lucius or Theodore into the building and bend nature at your whim...have you suffered brain damage?"

Whispering harshly, "If you question my mental capability I swear I will come to your home and string you up."

"Really? I would adore seeing you try." He dares, "Do come and give it your best shot."

She pinched the bridge of her nose in sheer aggravation before, "Oh...oh I'm coming."

"Go through the floo to Malfoy Manor." He snaps, "Lucius will take you from there."

"Who exactly do you want me to break out?"

"Lucius has a list-only the ones with their mental state in somewhat tact...I will kill the ones who prove damaged off when they arrive." He pauses. "And Rosalie, you specifically need to get Barty Crouch Jr."

Rose went wide eyed, walking towards Snape's classroom as her heeled shoes echoed off the stone walls. "Barty? He got the dementors kiss."

She knew the Dark Lord wanted to strangle her with his bare hands.

"I am obviously aware of his state, Rosalie." He shoots back, "You will restore his soul, I am sure of it."

Rose pushed open Snape's door, her anger only rising. "I cannot bare another minute of your attitude—I will get the idiotic man."

"This is my personality. Now, go and stop asking questions."

As Rose walked into Snape's classroom, the professor looked up from his desk, calling out, "Rose, you need to go! It is getting late!"

Confusion seemed to take him over as she ignored him completely, muttering profanities in Latin to herself as she adjusted the corset over a long flowy dress—clearly in no condition to be leaving Hogwarts. It was not until she rounded his desk and stepped toward the floo did she stop, huffing to herself before looking over at him in exhaustion.

"Sorry Sev, people have been getting under my skin as of recent."

Snape gave her an odd look, gesturing to the fireplace. "I don't even want to know why you were speaking Latin to yourself..."

Just as she was about to throw down a handful of floo powder, he stood from his seat. "Be careful, I beg you."

Rose's lips pulled up, taking him by surprise when she threw her arms around him quickly.

"I will be."

He patted her back, a slight grimace on his face at the affection until she pulled away.

Rose threw him a quick salute before throwing down the powder, and chanting, "Malfoy Manor."

As soon as she landed in the fireplace of the entrance hall, Lucius turned sharply around, only a few feet away from her. "Rosalie!" He shouts before grabbing her arm, and apparating them on the spot.

They landed on the coast of Great Britian, their shoes digging into a grassy field, and a few feet from a stone edge that placed them high above the beach.

The sky had never been as gray.

Rose stumbled into Lucius, but was quick to tear herself free from the man. Only then did she shove at his chest.

"You did not even give me a second to breathe!" She turned her head at the sound of shuffling, finding seven men in black hooded cloaks and such dark masks that she could not see the details in the low-light of the night. "Oh, well hello fellow old men."

"We are not old, Rosalie." came Yaxely's muffled voice.

She laughed to herself, heading to the cliff's edge. "And I'm not a witch."

Lucius pulls his cloak hood up, the mask appearing with it. "You are running late as usual."

"I did not plan on coming." Rose remarked, glancing over the edge to find the waves crashing far below. In no time at all, Lucius yanks her back, his head shaking in reprimand.

After, he turned to the men, speaking sternly, "I will take Rosalie to do the spell, once it is broken, come and gather them all."

Surprisingly enough, she can see the men's heads move in the form of a nod. She expected questions, wondering why she would be the one to cast some spell, but then she realized it is her who should be wondering why she is doing a spell, and what spell? The Dark Lord seemed to have told everyone, but her, the plan.

Before the question can roll off her lips, one of the men shoots away in a cloud of black smoke, a trail in his path as he disappears in the sky. And right then, Lucius pulls her against himself, and she feels all of the air leave her lungs as she taken away with him.

She cannot see anything, but she can feel herself flying with Lucius.

Eventually though, the air comes back into her lungs, and it would have been exhilarating if she was not so confused.

Her feet hit solid ground, and the smoke begins to slowly peel from her eyes, and the moment it does she gasps, feeling unsteady at the very top of Azkaban as the waves crash below and Dementors fly around in looming circles.

Two strong hands hold her arms in a tight grip, and she knows it is Lucius.

The Dementors fly closer now, not bothering them, but nearing, and her heart beats incredibly fast against her chest.

Heights? She did not mind them. Standing on top of a sky-scraper prison for criminals? It is easy to say she is nowhere near comfortable.

"I won't let you fall." He says, loud over the sounds of wind and water, voice distorted behind the mask.

Rose leans forward slightly, jumping back against his chest after seeing the massive triangular shape that had been cut out of the center. "Lucius," She says, having to shout over the noise. She turns her head back, looking up to him in what appears close to fear. "When I do this, you need to fly us off! The building is going to shake and rubble will go everywhere!"

She does not await his response, tearing one of her arms free and stepping to the side. Lucius moves fluidly, slipping his hand around her wrist as she pulls out her wand.

Despite the wind smacking against her, or the way it rocks her limbs, she forces herself to trust Lucius, and raises her wand to the sky, making the man flinch at the strength of her magic as a blue beam shoots from the wooden tip.

The gray skies seem to rumble in response, and the Dementors rush to the other side of the prison with newfound speed.

Her wrist shakes in his grip, and he thinks to pull her into him, but just as he's about to Rose slings her wand-holding hand forward, the blue beam going to the other side of the prison like a rope.

The thread of a spell disappears on impact, followed by a banging clap, and then—a roaring explosion. Lucius pulls her against him and instantly shoots off as part of the building crumbles.

Lucius weaved them in and out of the top of the prison, exploding at least five floors before he stopped at the top floor, the black smoke dropping from them as they landed on top of rubble-right along the edge. He grabbed her arms, keeping her steady.

His lips pulled up at her unharmed body before he glances down at the drop and ocean below. "Go to Bellatrix and get Barty. I'll meet you at our manor."

Rose nodded, going to step over the rubble as manic laughter from who she assumed to be Bellatrix Lestrange filled her ears.

Lucius stopped her with a hand.  "Careful, Bella is not mentally present."

Rose rolled her eyes, using his shoulder to step over a big stone. "I'll be fine—go finish."

Lucius shot back up into the sky with a trail of black smoke before she watched him collide into another wall.

It was pure chaos; the dark sky, the Dementors flying and helping all the Deatheaters, and the malevolent energy floating around.

She took another step over the rubble before she saw a head of black curls and heard the manic laughter even louder, watching Bellatrix Lestrange place her hands on her knees and double over with glee.

Rose flicked her hand, making a gigantic stone that was separating then fly off the edge. She steps towards the archway Bellatrix was in front of, no caution in her movements.

"Bellatrix?" Rose called over the winds, keeping herself steady. "Are you ready to go home, love?"

Bellatrix's laughter stops, her head turning sharply to Rose before she begins clapping and jumping. "Are you here for me?!"

Rose smiles, stepping closer to her. "I would say so, or I would not be risking myself two feet away from falling."

Belltrix froze once again, stepping back in a way that made Rose go on the defense. "Walburga?" She quizzed, eyes manically wide. "What are you doing here?!"

"What?" Rose spluttered, head shaking, "No, no, I'm her granddaughter."

"Ah ha!" Bellatrix grinned, taking the girl by her shoulders, "Rosalie, Rosalie! Little Black!"

Rose grimaced at the smell of the witch, and became more than slightly worried for her mental state. "Okay then," She says, "Do you know where Barty is? Junior?"

Bellatrix looks at her as if she was stupid, but allows Rose to grab her hands. "Barty?" She says, "His mind is gone! Dementors kiss, you see! Sucked it right out of him!"

"Well aware, darling." Rose soothes, releasing her hands and stepping by the witch and into her cell. "Wait here."

Bellatrix is quick to follow after her, an extreme pep in her step that surprised Rose. "Wait? I think not."

She held her hand out to the older witch, Bellatrix not hesitating to grab on and allow Rose to guide her at a quick pace into the middle of the prison.

Rose sweeps her gaze over the broken cells until finding who she assumed to be Barty Crouch Junior simply standing and staring at the wall of a cell that door had been broken during the explosion.

She leans toward Bellatrix, whispering, "Is that him?"

Bellatrix giggles loudly. "Told you, he's all gone..." She began talking in a sing-song voice, "He's all gone!"

A laugh escapes Rose before she yanks Bellatrix forward and uses her heel to kick the bar door, that had been barely hanging on, to the side with an echoing bang.

Barty turns to her, his striped robes torn and his face blank.

"Get ready to apparate, Bella."

A grin spreads over Bellatrix's face as Rose yanks the man roughly by his shirt and apparates them all on the spot.

*

Her feet hit the wooden floors of the Malfoy Manor drawing room. Regardless of how dark it was Rose could tell exactly where she was from the thirty-foot ceilings, the two glistening chandeliers that had not been turned on, and the only illumination coming from the roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror.

A tall wizard, in a dark heavy cloak with a deep hood pulled up, passed by her with silent briskness others did not have the capability of, and a daunting aura. Only when he stepped in front of her and continued forward did she notice the nine Azkaban escapees on their knees in the center of the room, the eight Deatheater's in their robes and terrifying masks formed in a circle around them with wands out like swords.

And of course, Abraxas Malfoy with them, in his usual over the top robes, the look of a suit beneath a cloak with jeweled pins, and his chin held high with scrutiny for the filthy prisoners below.

Rose did what she thought best, keeping Bellatrix's hand in her own as she guided Barty into one of the plush chairs by the fire and shoved him down onto it.

"Rosalie," Abraxas calls, "Bring her here."

Bellatrix muttered to herself, but Rose paid her no mind and pulled the witch with her to the group who quickly opened up for them to move through.

In a surprising manner, Rose stopped, taking Bellatrix by the neck and shoving the witch onto her knees with a deep seated sigh. Only then did she understand how each prisoner was mumbling to themselves, pleading for some unseen mercy from some unforgivable god.

Abraxas throws her a wicked smirk, giving the slightest tilt of his chin that brings Rose by his side.

She wanted to know where Regulus was, which one he was beneath those masks, but she could not tell. And not only that, but she had no idea where the hooded man had gone.

This was not how she saw her life, surrounded by Deatheater's in a grand drawing room that she had grown up in, but here she was, and here she blended in all too easily.

A chill ran up her spine uncalled for, and the hair beneath her sleeves stood at attention, drawing her head to the empty space beside her that was no longer vacant. The man's ivory skin was a stark contrast to the dark waves that fell toward his eyebrow, and the jarring sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw beneath that hood did not soften any part of his appearance.

Rose should've known the moment her body reacted that this was the Dark Lord, and now, even after so long and so many different versions of him, that still with him beside her she would feel intimidated by his towering height and comforted at the same time. That regardless of how he dominated the room by simply breathing, she felt better with him there.

"Do it, Rosalie." He says, one sharp command that comes out like gravel.

It would be months before she came to understand why he would put her up to so many tasks over others. It was not only his trust in her power, or her ability to do things beyond anyone else, but he understood her discomfort at how the others looked at her, and here he was, providing her with an opportunity to silence them with proof of her abilities.

Before she could move, Bellatrix gasped, and began crying out in what Rose could tell was joy at the Dark Lord returning.

But she is silenced by the harshest command Rose had ever heard.

"Silence, Bellatrix."

The room went still, his magic rolling off in waves of aggravation, and Bellatrix bowed her head down, not even a sound of breathing coming out.

Rose did not mind having to step into the center of all these weaponized wands, or even bothered by coming close to what could be feral prisoners. She simply stepped in, walking her way down the line of ten kneeled bodies until reaching the opposite end.

This man, dark hair and even longer beard, looked up to her with tearful eyes but a fearless face.

Rabastan Lestrange.

She places her hands on the side of his head, and he does not move, even as she digs her nails in and mutters Latin to herself.

But then, a scream rips from the man's lungs as she dives into his mental pathways with urgency.

Not one person flinches.

Rose has become immune to the sounds, whether it be from growing up, full moons, or her heart has simply been dulled by time. She keeps navigating through his mind, checking his memories, diving further and further through the maze that is the human mind and—

"My lord," the voice of Regulus Black speaks up without realizing he did so, the man breaking his own rules at the sight of her eyes turning completely white in the most unsettling manner.

"She is fine." cuts in the voice of the Dark Lord, and Regulus cannot protest this, no matter how much he may wish to.

Rabastan's scream dies in his throat, but Rose does not stop. She ventures further and further, until she can feel his magical roots, where all of his power rests; the part that separates a wizard from a muggle.

And then, she pulls her hands off of him at once, and the man's head drops forward for a gasp of air.

In seconds, Rasbastan looks back up to her, a plea on his face; no longer a plea for some unforgiving god, but for her mercy instead.

Rose turns her chin toward the Dark Lord's shadowy figure. "He's more than okay."

Rabastan lets out a breath of relief that Rose could understand.

One by one, Rose made her way down the line, ignoring screams of agony as she pushed through their minds, scanning how ruined their brain was, and seeing how intact their magic had remained.

Not one of the eight she had checked were killed, all carrying their mental somewhat intact.

But on the ninth, a man with graying-blonde hair and a nasty scar across his cheek, Rose found herself in the same position; her eyes glazed over white as her nails dug into the sides of his head, but this time, when she straightened up and stepped back, she held a blank and cold look on her face as she turned to the Dark Lord.

"Useless." She says.

"What—" The man spluttered, "What?!"

The Dark Lord barely raised his hand before a Deatheater directly behind the prisoner flicked a wand, a blinding jet of green shooting into the man.

His body slumps to the floor, the other prisoners flinch, and Bellatrix keeps her head down as Rose comes to stand in front of her.

For Bellatrix in particular, Rose crouches down, using gentle hands to lift the witch's head up. It is not that Rose has any need to care about the woman, but Bellatrix is Narcissa's sister, Draco's aunt, and for that reason alone she will be kind.

A sound no one had ever heard came off of Bellatrix Lestranges lips as Rose slammed her way into her mind; a scream of agony.

Within seconds, Rose's eyes change once more, but instead of remaining white, they flash twice, and then she pulls off with haste. Bellatrix is left breathless, panting for air as Rose steadies her shoulders and looks up to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord begins to lift his hand again and—

"No!" Rose blurts out, "I'll—let me try to see if I can help her!"

"Rosalie," Abraxas warns, "There is no such thing as exceptions."

Bellatrix looks to Rose with nothing short of horror, and the young witch simply shakes her head, signaling it will be fine as she stands up and keeps a hand on Bellatrix's shoulder.

"Let me try some potions, get her cleaned up, and then I can duel her...see if she can still do proper magic." Rose says, not staring at anyone other than the Dark Lord. "I will bring her back to you if not, let you kill her how you wish."

"I will go with her, my Lord." Lucius speaks up, his voice distorted.

"Go then." The Dark Lord says, voice cutting through the thick silence like glass.

In newfound speed, Rose yanks Bellatrix up, the Deatheters parting for them both. They stay silent, even as Lucius falls in step behind them, and they make their way out of the drawing room and into the connected corridor where Narcissa Malfoy waits.

"Cissy?!" Bellatrix yelps, struggling her way out of Rose's grip.

Narcissa throws up a hand, signaling her to stay back as she looks between Rose and Lucius, who had taken off his mask and dropped the hood. "What is it?" She asks, " Are they going to kill her?"

"No, Cissa." Rose says, "But there are some things that must be done."

Narcissa lets out a breath of relief that is barely noticeable, and screws her chin up, arms crossing together defensively as she meets her sister's eyes. "Well?" She asks, sharply as ever, "Are you going to stay standing there, Bella?"

Bellatrix runs over in a rush, throwing her arms around Narcissa's neck and almost making them topple over. It takes a few moments before Narcissa even dares to hug her back, but then, as soon as she does, Narcissa is burying her face into Bellatrix's mess of curls.

They almost look young again, the simple image of lost sisters finding their way home against odds.

Rose and Lucius give them their time, which turns out to be minutes of hushed conversation that makes Rose face Lucius and speak to him in her own way.

Finally, Narcissa comes over, spinning Rose around and taking hold of her face.

"Thank you for saving her," Narcissa whispers, a slight crack in her voice.

"She is your sister." Rose says, "I believe I owe you a favor after all these years."

Narcissa smiles and it is full of love. "Oh, my sweet girl." She murmurs, using one hand to push a lock of hair behind Rose's hair. "I am sorry I have not been around much for you—"

"Do not apologize." Rose interrupts, forcing her own smile. "I know things have been chaotic."

"Never is that an excuse." Narcissa breathes out, before pulling the young girl into her chest with an embrace that feels like the epitome of childhood. "Draco has been so happy, I can thank you for that."

"Oh," Rose smiles, genuinely this time. "That's all him. I think he just needed some encouragement, someone to hold his hand, yeah?"

"Narcissa, dear," Lucius says, "I do not mean to rush you, but you need to call in some witches to get Bella cleaned up. Rose promised the Dark Lord to check her power after doing so."

Still clutching onto Rose, Narcissa sasses, "Can I take Rose with me? Or is the Dark Lord refusing that as well?"

"I need to talk with her." Lucius says. "But, make sure you have the elves escort the help into the right wing. We cannot risk anyone seeing the Deatheaters."

"It's fine, Cissa." Rose cuts in, losing oxygen from how tight the hug is.

"Hmph." Narcissa pulls back enough to check Rose over in a motherly manner. "You come to me right when you're done, yes?"

"Of course." Rose says, forcing another smile.

Bellatrix lets out a manic giggle as Narcissa curves back over to her and takes her by the hand, allowing herself to be guided into a door to the right of them.

As soon as it closes, Lucius steps in front of Rose, appearing like the stone cold man she has always know as he looks down at her.

"It will get easier." He says.

"What?" Rose asks.

"All of this," He gestures to the dark, but regal robes on his body, and then gestures to the grand doors that they had exited the drawing room from. "All of the death, and everything else. With time, it gets easier. You become immune."

Rose forces her chin up a little higher, tries playing that mask of security Walburga taught her. "I am fine, Lucius." She says, "It does not bother me."

"I would believe you, if only I did not know who you truly were."

The statement cuts into her soul, because he does know her.

She does not argue him, only speaks a different truth. "I am scared." She says, "Worried for Draco and the others. I do not want them involved, and I know I am not who you would have picked for your son, but you must believe me when I say I am doing all of this for him, and I would do anything to protect him."

"He was raised for this, so were the others. I promise you they will all manage fine, but the issue I think is Draco's inability to protect you as of now. Once he is able to stand here with you, take these tasks on for you, he will be much more content." Lucius sighs. "As much as I hate it, I know my son would do anything for you, and him not being able to is what is eating him alive. He will step up with no issues, because, stupidly so, I believe you are the only thing he loves in this world."

Rose wants to sob, just break out into a sob at the doom they all face, and at the mere truth off of Lucius's lips.

But she does not.

She stays silent.

"You are different from them." He says, "Your heart has always been too big for your own good...but you have support, and despite our differences I will not allow harm to come to you."

Rose shakes her head, never understanding the complexities that are Lucius Malfoy. "I wish you were not a bad man..."

I wish you never laid hands on the man I love, or your wife.

"Sometimes, I wish I were not too." He says, and turns away from her. "Meet me in my office when you are ready."

Rose watches him go with an unsteady heart, half of her cursing his existence, and the other half wondering if he had been a kid once too; a kid who promised to never be the man he is today.

Doesn't matter really, he's still done the things he's done, and when the Dark Lord no longer needs him—she will kill Lucius Malfoy.

She needs this moment alone, and that needs to be her focus. Oxygen feels distant and she looks down, knocking away invisible dust from her flowy dress (which had been a mistake to wear when having to stand on top of Azkaban) before beginning to pull at the strings lacing the corset around her waist for a breath of fresh air.

But that feeling from earlier, the one of her heart jumping and a chill ghosting her skin, comes back.

She lifts her head up high, already knowing who stands behind her, and when she turns the Dark Lord is right there, the hood pushed off his head as he looms above in a towering way that reminds her of Death. Has he always been this tall? Or was it her amplified hate for him, the disconnect between them that made her sober up to his true imposing nature?

There is pure disgust on her face for him to see, burning hatred for the wizard before her.

She wondered if he had practiced facial expressions to mimic normal human beings, memorized ones that would humanize him in the eyes of others. By now she should know better, be fully aware that nothing lays beneath that cold mask he wears. He was barely human in his younger years, and he surely is not one anymore.

He always carried a malevolent fluidity in each step he took, and as he closed the distance between them, she came to understand the truth of it all, of how unsettling he actually is. She can feel his magic roll off in waves, and it is suffocatingly powerful.

In this light, the burning flames dancing over gilded candle holders, she sees him for the beautiful tragedy he is, and she hates him for it.

The most beautiful things in life are the furthest away, and she always finds herself wanting to be closer. To the stars, to the moon, to the deepest parts of the ocean. Maybe it is her destiny to be like Icarus, flying too close to the sun that is nothing but flames up close.

Maybe she is doomed to chase after things that will inevitably kill her in the end.

Foolish girl, Walburga Black scolds inside of her mind.

The Dark Lord must stop showing up like this, haunting her every chance he gets. His eyes swept over her face, devoid of emotion, like a hologram of what a human should be. But then again, how much of a human could he be with only the tiniest piece of his soul still inside his body?

Rose schools her face into nothing but a look of anger.

His eyes pierce down into her own.

Her eyes shoot dagger up into his own.

They are both museums of tragedy, steps mistaken, mistakes made.

"Don't you have another woman to torment?" She hisses, "We can all hope the next one you will not have to convince her to toss her morals away, maybe you will be able to save the time and energy."

A smile spread over his sculpted lips, not a normal smile, full of malice and deceit. "None are quite you." He says, "Perhaps I enjoy your unbridled madness, or have been simply urging you to seek the feeling of fear that comes with pushing boundaries."

"Why would anyone want to feel fear?!" She snaps, her anger bringing him amusement.

The Dark Lord steps closer, forcing her to crane her neck up further, but she will not back away, she will not let him win. "That visceral feeling," He hisses, wickedly, "When you think life might end, but your heart is beating faster than before, your brain is releasing dopamine," He pauses, bending down and driving her mad with the softness of his lips against the shell of her ear. In a low, husky tone, "When I pushed you off that cliff. How it was the most alive you have ever felt, how fear flushed your cheeks and made you joyful for the first time in months..."

Her eyes fluttered close, a swarm of electricity and heat storming every corner of her body.

"Do you remember it?" He murmurs, "How the feeling spreads down your spine..."

She could feel it now, with each deep breath she took, and with the sliver of his skin against her own. Right now, she could remember how lightheaded he made her feel, the weight of her limbs disappearing with new found energy, and the warmth that spreads through her even at this very second.

The Dark Lord pulls away, as smooth as a shadow, and when she pushes past the lump in her throat and forces her eyes open, her lips part at his amused face.

"I hate you." She spat, lacking weight after how winded up she had been.

"Must you always be angered with me?" He wonders, "Either you are vowing to need me here, or you wish me to be wiped from existence."

"The only thing I wish to do is not speak to you."

"Too bad I will not give you the option." He says, bringing his hand up, and brushing his knuckles across her cheek.

In refusal to let her body betray her, she smacks his wrist away, chest heaving.

There is a glimpse of the monster beneath, the one she seems to always lure out, as there is a flash of crimson across his eyes; something that happened every time he had been pushed too far.

His hand shoots out, wrapping around her throat and instantly slamming her back against the wooden wall. The pain forces her eyes closed, and she uses all of her power to not let a sound come out.

"I allow you to get away with too much." He hisses, viciously, and his cool breath fans over her lips.

When her eyes snap back open, she realizes how close he is, and she feels every breath he takes by how his chest pushes against her own, and despite how tight his hand is wrapped around her airways, she stares at him with burning hatred.

She has learned enough to fluidly reach beneath her dress.

"Or maybe, you need to be put down." She hisses, bringing the dagger to a rest at her side, and then—she rears up, ready to drive it into his head. He will come back, that much she knows, but it will be worth it to see him bleed.

Foolish, foolish, foolish.

His hand wraps around the blade all too fast, yanking it away and flipping it around. In the most unfortunate series of events, he drives the dagger right up against her throat, piercing her skin enough for her to suck in a ragged breath of air as she inches up on the wall to create distance.

The Dark Lord's eyes fall to a thin line of blood beginning to creep out of her throat before he drops his forehead against her own with roughness. Their noses brush as he now reflects that same burning hatred in his eyes, the dagger still sharp against her cut throat.

"I taught you better than that." His voice becomes vicious, "Are you crazy enough to actually try driving that blade into me?"

"I'd do it." She breathes out, her lips tingling at how close his own are. "What happened to liking my madness? A witch can't try to murder the most dangerous man alive every once in a while?"

"Rosalie," He murmurs, the hoarseness of his voice making her eyes flutter close. "You are sick in the head, playing with your life too often."

"And you're a psychopath." She says, limbs buzzing as the blade cuts the smallest bit deeper into her skin. "I should run away, get far away from you."

She can feel his twisted smirk as his lips ghost over her own.

"I'd find you."

She doesn't know what this feeling is, but she feels high on it.

"No matter where I went?"

"At every corner of this world," He rasps against her lips, "There is nowhere you could hide from me."

A deviant and breathless smile takes over her face. "Who's the crazy one now?"

The dagger clatters to the ground, and his thumb glides over the thin slit on her neck with so much pressure she gasps.

His eyes, usually cold and empty, glint as his other hand trails up her back and winds into her hair before yanking and forcing her head fully up.

The Dark Lord presses his bloody thumb on her bottom lip, slowly spreading the crimson substance across with an admiring stare only seen on the faces of critics inside art museums. "You," He murmurs, "For allowing me to be this close to you."

She is breathless, and her body is on fire, every inch ignited by the man she hates most.

But then she falls forward into a bend at the sudden disappearance of his hands, reaching for her chest in search of air.

And when she looks up, the Dark Lord is gone. She stands alone in the dreary corridor, completely by herself.

It is all just a game though.

Just a game. Just a game. Just a game.

________________________________

A/N: well...i know i said two days but i had to completely scrap this chapter and then i hated what I wrote and refused to edit it but whatever i gave in today and i figured i needed to post after so long

—i know we all need moments of Theo and Rosie and Rosie and Draco but I kind of messed up this chapter and realized I had to cut out stuff?? plus, Christmas break is all about them three so don't fret

—hermione and rosie was a loose end I needed to tie up but I hope you guys understood what I was trying to say by writing that in hermione's point of view and showing that their friendship was more one sided than rose every thought (as you can tell if you remember roses pov's) ^not rosie getting manic pixie dream girl'd by her bestfriend LMAO but seriously, i think hermione just never really got who rosie was and that's why it was never going to truly work out in the end.

—bellatrix my fellow bisexual queen ‼️‼️ so excited for her and rosie and to give her a deep backstory this time around (marauders fandom im looking at u and ur weird obsession w everyone but the girls)

—rosie is so girlhood ugh she deserves her happy ending SO much

-rosie and tom r poetic idc

—enough ranting, i hope you guys have all been doing good and i missed u all <3 next chapter is Christmas break and halfway done already because i have been writing in my days of holding this chapter hostage, and im excited for it bc we finally are at Theo and Draco going rlly rlly dark (screaming for them rn)

see u guys soon <3

xx bri