CHAPTER SEVEN
❝immorality❞

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     THE SMELL OF CHRISTMAS CAME TO LIFE AS ROSALIE SAT IN THE LIVING ROOM WITH THE CUT TREE COVERED IN DECORATIONS AND LIGHTS. She sat on the couch with a book in her lap, the only entertainment in the house as her uncle lacked having a muggle TV, and she flipped through the pages as she sought to pass the time.

There was nothing for her to be doing, as there was during school. She had no classwork to complete, no extra credit projects she could take on, and there was nothing she could do in pursuit to seeing the end of her mission while at home for the holidays. There was no way to transport the Vanishing Cabinet to her uncle's place and Kingsley lacked any books that would contain any knowledge of cursed items or elixirs to stir up that would end someone's life.

So she resigned herself to reading the books she had seen on his bookshelves that she had yet to touch, waiting until he got home and they could have a conversation. She had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no friends to look forward to correspondence with. It was lonely and sad sometimes to think about, to realize that no one would care if she disappeared, no one to go looking for her, but it also helped her move forward.

There were no one asking questions, no one pointing fingers at her and telling her that she had changed in the past year and a half, because no one knew her. For all they knew, this is how she had been forever. No one would ever look close enough, or long enough, to have known that her behavior had changed. Even her professors hadn't noticed.

So there was no one to feel guilty for, no one to disappoint, and that helped her go on with this. Even if Draco looked at her as if she were a monster since she chose this, made the wrong choice when she had the option never to become a part of this while he had it thrown upon with no hope for another life. For a better one without a forever association with a dark movement.

He was born into this while she had chosen it for her own glory. It was so terribly selfish but it was too late to turn back. There was nothing she could do now but go forward and walk down this path. Now, what she did was for self-preservation. That and for her glory, because she had to gain it. It had to be there at the end of the rainbow, that pot of gold just for her. It had to be.

But even though she longed for it, in the moment it was not in sight. What was, though, was the possibility of failure and death. So she continued with her task to save her life so that she could one day see that pot of gold with her name on it. People would praise her, people would forever remember her name.

That was all she wanted.

She could endure everything else, she could go through with murder, with guilt, if it meant that she would be remembered forever. People would know Rosalie Allen and she would go down in history, people would learn about her in school and she would be renowned in the wizarding world. That was all she ever wanted really.

Rosalie looked at the ticking clock, seeing that it was almost six so her uncle should be home soon before looking back and continuing to read her book. There was nothing else for her to do so she didn't complain. Soon she would go back and never have a dull moment and life would be good again. Well, busy, not necessarily good.

The door opened and she peered up from her book, seeing her uncle take off his hat as he smiled at her. "Hello," she greeted him as he sat down on the chair opposite of the couch, "How was work?"

"Oh, the usual," Kingsley answered, "People tried to run and someone got hurt, had to go to St. Mungo's. Wouldn't expect anything different."

Rosalie nodded, closing her book and placing it on the coffee table. "Did you have a lot of paper work to fill out?"

That was always his least favorite part, as it was for the majority. Kingsley enjoyed the thrill of being an Auror, the justice in it. He was the wizard cop but not cruel, commanding and firm in the belief of good and willing to help in its biding. Rosalie admired her uncle even if she could never do what he did, even though her way of working for good was in a different realm than his.

Kingsley would never dabble into the darkness, he would never become a spy, immersing himself into the ranks of the Death Eaters for good. That was where their paths diverged, where the side of her father took over and allowed her to take on the persona of wickedness.

"Not today," he shook his head, "But I will tomorrow. How was your day?"

Rosalie shrugged, "Boring more than anything else. There's not much to do."

"You can leave here, you know? Go out to the mall or a coffee shop, that'll probably be more fun than just staying inside," Kingsley suggested at her complaint.

Rosalie hummed in response to that, knowing that she wouldn't listen to any of his suggestions. She was not a fan of public locations, of talking to strangers, and the thought of someone approaching her and thinking they could have a conversation made her tense. Plus, being seen at a muggle area would compromise her position, maybe let the Death Eaters think – if they found out – that she was a sympathizer, that she was a rat amongst them. That could never happen.

"Maybe," she told him so that he might feel better at her bad opinion of his place.

"Good. Well, what do you want for dinner?" Kingsley asked her, standing up and going to the kitchen.

"Hmm, can we make French dip?" she asked him, looking at him to see that he nodded.

It was only later, when it was fully dark outside and the dishes from dinner were washed and they were sitting in the living room together – him reading the Prophet and her reading the same book from before – that her thoughts went back to their divergence.

Kingsley was the epitome of good; he was an Auror, a position he took not because of how the adrenaline made him feel, his life constantly on the edge even if he did love the rush of it all, but because he cared for justice. And now he was a part of the Order because they fought for good, going in to find the cracks of Voldemort so that he would one day be killed.

He could potentially be a Minister of Magic with his track record. There were no cracks in his own character, no dark past or dirty workings. He was fair with everyone and would bring only good things for the community if he were elected. He was just so good.

But Rosalie...she was not sunshine and roses. She was not delicate with her smiles. No one looked at her and thought of daisies, thought of the word good and equivocated her as goodness personified. If an angel had come to earth. She was not good, not fully so untouched and innocent. She was willing to bend the rules, she was willing to creep into the darkness for the greater good.

She was willing to corrupt herself to save others, shew as not so good. She wanted power – oh, she was so greedy. She wanted attention and she wanted it all for herself, not ever wanting to share. Rosalie Allen was not as good as her uncle, she was not solely good and it made her wonder if she were good at all.

Even though she rationalized her decision to become a Death Eater, even though she told herself that it was for her glory, for the good of the wizarding world. That her position and information she received would help them win the war and lead to the ultimate death of Voldemort, she did not know if that was the truth.

She didn't know if she was good. She could be so terribly evil and not even realize it.

So, she had to ask. "Uncle Kingsley," she caught his attention, seeing him look up from the paper and at her, "How do you know if you're a good person?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "What's this about, Rosalie?"

"Oh, it's just because of my book," she indicted with a little point of her head to the object open in her hands, "The main character is struggling with morality."

Kingsley hummed, not fully believing her but not pushing the matter further. He reclined in his chair, thinking of an answer before looking at her again. "That is a very complicated question. Many people can believe that they are good. After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

That made her freeze, because she had good intentions. She had the best intentions – well, not the best. Some of them were good, some of them were for the greater good, while others were for herself. Full of selfishness and greed; one of the seven deadly sins.

"But I think it comes down on how you act upon your intentions," Kingsley continued, unaware of her current inner turmoil, "It is all how you act that makes you a good person. I want justice, so I work in law enforcement as an Auror. However, I could have taken it upon myself to forgo the broken system and hunted down criminals and killed them outside of the law. I still had the same intentions – to bring justice to those who deserved the cruel end of it – but how I got there is what truly makes a person."

Rosalie nodded, though the answer did not help with her situation. Was there a better way to help? Did her decision truly make her a monster? Was she the killer outside of the law, guided by a man with great power who told her that she was their last hope? Had she been fooled into following the darkness pathing her way to hell?

She didn't know, and that haunted her. Because she looked at herself in the mirror, knowing her true intentions and knowing that some were good while others were full of sin, and not knowing if she were good herself or not.

She would never know.