a/n I made a little change in chapter eleven :) rosalie now has a korean name, jang-mi, and it will slowly be mentioned in future chapters! it used to just be a connection to her grandma, but i wanted to deepen it, especially since she's fully korean and both her names are white. i wanted to give her a thread to her cultural identity!

also please don't be mad at me <33 thanks xx

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A sob tears out of Rosalie's mouth. No. No. No!

Her breathing grows faster as she rips through her drawers, looking stupidly under her covers and pictures and even under her bed. Rosalie tosses all her textbooks out of her book bag, the parchments splayed across the floor. Her ink cartridges are on the verge of spilling, similar to her tears falling to the ground.

Her heart feels heavy, but a sense of panic has settled in her tumbling stomach, as she asks herself a haunting question: What if someone finds it?

What if someone took it?

No, Rosalie insists to herself. No one knows about the journal except Acacia, and if they did, why would they take it? They have no reason to.

God, she needs air.

Rosalie almost tears the door off its hinges before running out her dorm, past the Common Room, and into the hallway in a blind haze. It's almost curfew, but Rosalie doesn't care, just searching for some private place, and then in the haze of her mind, her brain whispers, The Astronomy Tower.

She heads there, climbing the ladder to look at the brilliant stars of the sky. It reminds her of Delilah, of their times under the night.

("Look, Rosie!" Delilah would whisper, the dutiful big sister, guiding Rosalie's tiny hand to the sky as they laid in the damp grass outside. "Do you see all the stars in the sky?")

Only Sirius Black is there, instead. His black hair is moving with the wind, and his handsome face stares at the sky, just as melancholy as he is. She stills, wanting to run away, back down the ladder, back —

Sirius turns around. "Edson," he says, voice low.

Rosalie attempts a sneer, but fails. "I can go —"

"This isn't my spot," he says grumpily. "I'm only here because of my stupid brother."

"Regulus chased you here?" Rosalie asks warily.

Sirius blinks at her. "No!"

"Ah," Rosalie says, her mood lifting, "you're brooding."

Sirius sniffs childishly. "Am not!"

"Are too!" Rosalie insists, a semblance of a smile forming on her face. "I'm not judging, though. I am, as well."

Sirius smirks, only for it to fade as he truly studies her face. He says nothing, only turning around and staring at the stars, almost a silent invitation.

She takes it, standing next to him, noticing his red-rimmed eyes, too. They're a lot less prominent, his light irises still gleaming as they always do.

Idiot. Why does he have to look so annoyingly nice even after crying?

"So," Sirius asks, "what was with this evening?"

"James said it," Rosalie mutters, eyes trained on the stars, and only the stars. "It's the lack of sleep."

"Liar," he mutters, and she turns to look at him. "Something else is going on, and —"

"Frankly," Rosalie interrupts wearily, "I don't care anymore. Speculate all you want. You'll find out anyway, okay? My diary disappeared from my desk today, and I haven't taken it out to my classes ever since that shitshow of a party two months ago."

"Someone took your diary?" he asked, blinking. "Why would anyone want to read that? There's probably nothing interesting in it, anyway."

Ignoring his insult, Rosalie shakes her head. "I don't know. But I have personal details of my life, and it's my mother's journal that she gave to me."

"It's important to you," Sirius states.

"No shit." Rosalie runs a hand through her hair. "It also has the answers you're looking for. The moment someone finds out, Black, I'm done for." She looks into his grey eyes. "I'm done."

"You?" He scoffs. "It can't be that bad."

"My biological father found out about my magic and called me a freak," Rosalie mutters bitterly. "Imagine if people find out about this. I'd be carted off to a mental institution."

"He seems like a dick," Sirius says bluntly.

"Well, he's dead, and I have a better adopted father, so it's all good!" Rosalie injects cheerfulness into her voice, but Sirius just looks horrified. "I made it worse, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry," is all he says, voice strained.

"You didn't make him a piece of shit, did you?" Rosalie hums, wiping her tear-stained face. She sniffles slightly. "Anyways, enough about me. What did Regulus do?"

He stares at her. "Even after all that, after what I said to you?"

"Family is," Rosalie tests her words out carefully, "different. We can toss out our differences as of now."

There is a pause before Sirius speaks hesitantly.

"He said my parents wouldn't be proud of me." Sirius appears to be indifferent, if it isn't for his puffy eyes. "Which is fine, since they were abusive and used the Cruciatus Curse on me, but he said I shouldn't have left for a bunch of bloodtraitors and —" He glances at her. "— m-words. But he actually said the word."

"I'm so sorry, Sirius," Rosalie says, feeling a stab in her stomach. "He's brainwashed to the point of being lost. And I wish I could understand, but people like him are the reason why my family and I aren't safe. And — and I hope you're safe, now."

"Are you safe now?" Rosalie asks softly.

Sirius smiles. "I am."

"Good," Rosalie murmurs, "and please stay that way. I'm glad you got out, and one day, maybe Regulus can leave too."

"That's unlikely, seeing as if half of his friends should be locked up in Azkaban." Sirius scoffs venomously. "I don't know how he and his friends are still here."

"Especially Evan Rosier," Rosalie mutters. "Stupid git."

"In more ways than one, Edson."

Sirius turns to face her, and Rosalie can see everything in him, not just the annoying git she verbally spars with everyday, but just a child, like she's just a child. They're just two people in a warring world.

"I shouldn't have called you ugly," he admits, grey eyes sombre. "It's two months late, but you're not really ugly. I just find you incredibly annoying."

Rosalie lets out a tearful laugh, feeling a release in her stomach, almost like relief. "Thanks, Black. I guess you're not so bad."

He blinks at her. "I suppose you're alright. For now."

Rosalie jabs him with her elbow. "Rude."

The journal barely stings anymore. Just being with this stupid idiot has calmed her, for some strange reason. The two of them, bonded by doleful events, laughing on top of the Astronomy Tower, the stars hovering over them like an amused audience.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After telling James she'd lost her journal (filled with important notes, she'd said, which is true, in a sense), he'd sent out flyers (flyers, for God's sake!), but not a single person found anything in the past month. Acacia and Drake had scoured her dorm room multiple times, and even Sirius put up a singular flyer, before he was caught by McGonagall and forced to detention.

Rosalie was strangely productive after her lost diary, though, writing letters to her family (Delilah started baking!), finally hanging out with Acacia and Drake, catching up on missing assignments, and learning complicated Transfiguration spells, all while her visions creeped open her days and nights, getting worse and worse as the months dragged on.

Without her diary, Rosalie uses little papers and shoves them in her drawer, disorganised with scrawled dates.

And now, she has another problem.

Rosalie can't find a way to talk to Sirius. After the poster incident, he seems to be coincidentally unavailable. Every time she attempts to approach him — to thank him for listening to her under the stars — he somehow weasels his way out of it. First, he and James are loudly guffawing, moving away from her. Then, in the library, he's fallen asleep on his book. And then in class, he's always next to his bodyguards — damned Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew — and she's unable to get him.

Since when is saying "thank you" so hard? Does the git not appreciate it? Or want it? Or need it? Maybe he's just ... done with her. Maybe Rosalie's served her purpose, from being a girl to banter with to a girl to talk with to a random girl he sees in classes.

Maybe that's all she is.

So, now Rosalie has a new mission. Weaving pink ribbons into her hair, she stands up, her jaw set. Sirius Black is not going to avoid her anymore, not if she has anything to do about it.

"This isn't a good idea," Drake warns as Rosalie stashes her wand.

"I'm just speaking his language," Rosalie says innocently, "and giving him a taste of his own medicine."

Drake rolls his eyes. "He's still going to avoid you."

"Sirius is emotionally constipated," Acacia adds.

Rosalie scoffs. "So I'll make him shit. See you, then."

Closing the door on her friends, Rosalie merrily makes her way down to the Commons. A dangerous glint is in her eye, ready to rid the avoidance of Sirius Black. After all, Rosalie needs someone to pester, and he's the perfect target.

Rosalie hears a door open and shut behind her. Acacia runs up to her friend, patting Rosalie on the shoulder.

"I'm coming with you," she decides.

Making her away to the Gryffindor Commons, Rosalie, with Acacia, stops at the portrait of Sylvia (known as the Fat Lady) and repeats the password James had given her the other day.

Sylvia, who is for some reason drunk, hiccups and slowly moves to her other friend, also in the portrait. Rosalie taps her foot impatiently as Acacia wrings her hands.

While waiting for James outside, Rosalie learned to converse with Sylvia, and then the two would head to the Kitchens — occasionally joined by Acacia — to continue the House Elves's lessons. Acacia teaches them all weekend, eyebrows knitted in concentration, and according to her, many of the House Elves are moving swiftly through their reading courses.

"Can you imagine?" Acacia asks as the two girls wait for Sylvia's portrait to slide open. "House Elves — no, all magical creatures — attending Hogwarts? Learning with us? Like we're all one."

"That would be wonderful." Rosalie smiles, intertwining her fingers with Acacia's, her eyes dragging across the portrait to where Sylvia refuses to budge, still gossiping with her drunk portrait-friend. "Like a dream come true, wouldn't it?"

"It's my goal," Acacia adds wistfully, squeezing Rosalie's hand with her own, "that and revolutionising muggle pens."

Rosalie smirks. "And forever carrying breath mints."

"The day I don't have them," Acacia says seriously, "I'm Imperiused."

Giggling, Rosalie nudges Acacia. "Noted."

The portrait door finally slides open, Sylvia slurring something incoherently, and the two girls walk in.

"What happened?" Sylvia calls, hiccuping. Her large dress has a wine-stain on it. "No questions for me, Rosalie?"

"Not today, I'm afraid," Rosalie replies, hiding her smile.

"Boo," Sylvia mutters. "You're no fun."

Acacia giggles. Even Rosalie cracks a smile at Sylvia's grumbling, which eventually fades away as the two girls scour the Gryffindor Common Room, a warm and comfortable place capturing the blaze Rosalie feels inside of her (it's the rage she wants to release, through a smack on Sirius Black's shoulder for avoiding her).

"Alright." Rosalie sighs. "Where to, now?"

"No need to look, ladies," James says, greeting them with a wave as he rises from the red couch. "I'm right here."

Rosalie runs towards him, pulling James into a hug. "There you are. At least one of you isn't avoiding me."

James pats her on the back. "Ah. Sirius?"

"Obviously," Rosalie mutters, releasing him. "And for no reason, too! I'm just trying to say 'thank you' for what he did."

"For hanging up that poster?" James asks, causing Acacia's lips to curve into a smile. "And then getting detention?"

Rosalie bites her lip, stomach churning. "Yes. That."

"Well," James begins, clearly lying, "I don't think he's avoiding you —"

Acacia raises an eyebrow. "Is he in his dorm?"

"Er — yes." James scratches his head. "You don't want to disturb him, though — Rosalie, wait!"

"I need to talk to him!" the brunette exclaims, making her way up.

"Not now!" James calls desperately, scurrying after her.

"Why not?" Rosalie asks, at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, why not?" Acacia repeats, right behind James. "Is he not dressed?"

Rosalie pauses. "Ew."

"No," James says hesitantly. "But —"

"Then there's no problem!" Rosalie strides to the dorms, thrusting the door open. "Black!"

Sirius's eyes harden at the sight of her.

"Oh, no you don't —" Rosalie surges towards him, James attempting to hold her back as Sirius stares, looking unbothered. "Why are you avoiding me, you little shit?"

"Let her talk, Potter," Acacia adds, ripping James's hand off of Rosalie's robes.

Rosalie stumbles into the dorm, Acacia and James following. Remus and Peter, who were silently sitting on one bed, stand up.

"I just wanted to say —" The brunette doesn't get to finish; Sirius strides past her and right out the door. "— thank you."

"Well," Acacia mumbles, "that went well."

"Get back here, Black!" Rosalie exclaims, but Remus and Peter hold her back. "Is this a kidnapping? What on Earth?"

"He really doesn't want to talk, Rosalie," Remus mutters.

Rosalie frowns, surrendering. "What did I do wrong?"

Remus releases her, and Peter follows. "He's not used to this."

"Used to what?" Acacia asks. "If he can't talk to Rosalie, why did he try helping her? What's with the complications?"

James seats himself, Peter following. The two of them say nothing, surprisingly quiet. Usually, James is the life, and Rosalie is adding onto his energy, but his quietness makes her feel depleted.

"Maybe I did something," Rosalie mutters, turning to face Remus, "and maybe he's still mad about what I said back at the party. But he didn't seem mad when we talked — unless he was hiding it." She sighs. "I guess he's mad."

"I'm going to beat him up," Acacia says decisively.

"Don't," James advises. "At least, don't mess up his hair."

"Wait," Peter interrupts, causing Acacia to falter. "Sirius is just confused."

"I confused him?" Rosalie asks, tilting her head.

"Well," Peter mutters.

"Will someone please tell me what I did wrong?" Rosalie asks, voice cracking towards the end. "Is he like this with all of you? What happened? Have I said something wrong to him?"

"You didn't say anything wrong," Remus reassures, "but he's just processing. Rosalie, he's not used to being vulnerable —"

Acacia frowns. "That doesn't give him the right to take it out on her."

"You did avoid me for two weeks," Rosalie mumbles, "so I suppose I understand —"

"I was twelve!" Acacia replies defensively.

Peter snorts. "We all know Sirius acts like a child, though."

"Well, I'm better," Acacia replies pettily.

"That you are," Rosalie agrees.

"And I'm going to ask him why," Acacia states, squaring her shoulders. "I'm sure there's more to this."

Rosalie opens her mouth, but then closes it, resigning with a nod. As her friend leaves, she stares at the door, and then the ceiling, and then the boys in the room: their panicked expressions, shifty movements, and avoidant eyes.

"You're hiding something," Rosalie deduces. "Spill it."

"It's nothing," Peter says quickly. Too quickly.

And James's jab at his side only confirms it.

"Remus," Rosalie says, "please. I've never said 'please' this many times in my life. Is he mad about what I said? About Regulus?"

Remus frowns. "Why do you want to talk to him that bad?"

"Well, I —" Rosalie falters. "I need someone to pester. And thank. Because he's an idiot, but he's not that bad — or he wasn't, considering his avoidance. The moment I get to talk to him, I'm smacking some sense into him —"

"Do you want to be his friend?" Peter asks gently. "Do you miss him?"

"No!" Rosalie denies.

Remus raises a brow.

Rosalie sighs. "Yes. Fine. I miss that gorilla."

James blinks.

"Well," Peter says, "I think he misses you too."

"He'd better," Rosalie mutters.

Remus laughs softly. "There's a lot to Sirius that none of us truly understand. He's like a clam, Rosalie. You opened him for a moment, and now he's shut extra tight."

"I guess," Rosalie murmurs. "I just wish he'd realise that he doesn't need to avoid me. But I am glad he isn't upset."

Peter's smile is obviously strained. "Yeah. He isn't upset."

"So he is upset?" Rosalie asks, eyes widening.

"No!" the three of them exclaim.

Rosalie bites her lip unsurely. "Okay, if you insist."

"It's true," James confirms, "he's just — are you okay, Rosalie?"

The said girl is trembling, face pale. A wave of nausea passes through her, and visions threaten to escape. But for some reason, they are locked tight, as if they're shoved in a vault.

Rosalie looks at Remus, and his face alone calms her down.

He reminds her of someone, she realises, maybe not his face, but something else. Is it that look in his eyes, or those various pale scars that litter his face?

"Fine," Rosalie forces out, her body slowly relaxing, "just — I'm fine."

Remus raises a thin eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Rosalie," James continues, "you really need to sleep."

"I'm okay," she confirms. "It's just a cramp."

History bangs on the walls of her mind, practically shrieking to be unleashed. But it is sealed beneath the bars of her skin. For some reason, the screaming dulls. History vanishes into the corners of her brain, and the pain subsides.

Rosalie wants to wonder why, but all she can feel is relief.

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"Black!" Acacia's eyes are wild, almost like a forest as she catches up with him. "Can we talk? Just for one minute."

Sirius turns, silky hair brushing his cheeks. Acacia simply frowns, crossing her arms; he looks so punchable with his unbothered expression and dull grey eyes.

"One minute," he practically drawls.

"You're acting like the kids we used to insult." Acacia's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Remember when we were younger and you'd prank them by pouring salt in their tea instead of sugar?"

Sirius blinks, unsmiling. "I don't get your point."

She cuts to the chase, smashing their memories into pieces; they aren't friends anymore. "Why are you avoiding Rosalie?"

"None of your business," he replies immediately, "but you should be careful, Abbott. You never know what she could be hiding."

Acacia clenches her fists. "We're all hiding things. Including you. I wouldn't see her any differently than I do now."

He raises an eyebrow. "You avoided her, too. She complained about it."

"For two weeks," Acacia snaps back, "and I was twelve. You're of age and acting like a child instead of talking to her about it."

"This is something we can't talk about." Sirius's voice is still monotone, but his expression is clearly conflicted. "But Edson should know why. After all, she knows more than we all do."

Sirius doesn't let Acacia respond, choosing to walk away. Acacia stares at his back. What on Earth is he on about? Rosalie's kept secrets, sure, but so has Acacia. If he's avoiding Rosalie for a simple thing she's hidden, then maybe he's more immature than she thinks.

"Rosalie?" Acacia calls when she heads back to the dorms and leans on the doorframe. Her friend startles. "We should get going."

"Did he tell you why he's —" Rosalie immediately begins.

"You should leave it," Acacia advises. "You deserve better."

Rosalie sighs, nodding. She leaves the room with her friend, heart heavier than it was when she arrived. But what she fails to notice is the copy of "All to Know About Seers" lying on Sirius's bed.

She fails to notice Acacia's set jaw and clenched fists. All she can think about is how long she has to wait for the buffoon to realise that he can trust her — even though she should be doubting him, and not the other way around.