WICKED GAME!

" I will be with you every step of the way,

until the very end "

𓆙

18 SEPTEMBER ; 7:00 AM

VI.

( trigger warning: reference to non—consensual touching )

Light split through the towers and parapets of Hogwarts as dawn broke.

Inside the girl's dormitory, when all others were still sleeping, Rose Potter was awake.

She cast pressing spells and unwrinkling charms on her clothes, and yet she still changed her skirt three different times. She brushed and brushed and brushed her hair, obsessive in the motion, furious as she yanked the bristles through her tangled hair. The pain was a good distraction from the panic currently coiling in the pit of her stomach. She had to look her best. She had to look pretty. She had to use her looks as an armour.

It was ridiculous, and yet she couldn't stop herself from believing it.

Mercifully, there was no one around to see any of her insanity at this ungodly hour on a Saturday morning — every other sane person were still asleep. Today was the Parent Meeting — or, more accurately, Parent and Godparent Meeting. Dumbledore called for it right after the article was published, so everyone (the school, the Malfoy's, and The bloody Order) could best decide how best to move forward with this... situation.

Almost entirely dressed for the day, Rose reached for her shirt when she startled at what she saw in the washroom mirror and had to stop immediately.

She was showing.

There was a bump.

Definitely and totally a bump.

Rose caught her breath in awed reverence while she traced delicate fingers over the small curve raised between her hips. Her eyes burnt with shimmering tears and her throat tightened as she imagined an increasingly person—shaped being growing within her. Just beneath there, under her fingertips.

"Hi baby," she whispered with a slow growing smile.

Ten minutes later, she was still discreetly rubbing her belly beneath her cardigan while she walked the familiar and empty corridors of the castle. She liked the castle best when it was like this, quiet and private and safe. She liked it so much in fact that she decided to take the scenic route to the Headmaster's office. It took her almost fifteen minutes of procrastination to reach the familiar gargoyle, begrudgingly muttering the password ('fizzy wizzy' — which Dumbledore told her via owl).

Rose rode the spiraling staircase, no longer able to ignore the anxiety twisting all her organs into a ball in the pit of her stomach. Gripping tight onto the railing, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to hyperventilate, but all too soon she reached the door to the Headmaster's office. She knocked twice and listened to the Dumbledore's quiet and calm:

"Come in, Rose."

With a wince, she unfortunately could do nothing but obey.

Since The Order meeting back in August, she had been dreading seeing Dumbledore's face once more, and she was exactly right to feel that way. As she pushed very quietly into the office, she immediately caught sight of the Headmaster, seated at his desk, no hint of a twinkle in his eyes, looking somehow infinitely more disappointed in her since they last saw one another.

Rose awkwardly stepped inside and very quietly closed the door behind her for privacy, resenting the feeling like she was locking herself in rather than locking others out. She politely refused the usual offer of a sherbet lemon and sat down, still unable to look the old wizard in the eye. Dumbledore seemed to recognise this and sighed softly to himself, mercifully not bothering to make any attempts at conversation.

The silence was— intense.

But she bloody hated it as much as she appreciated it.

Her knee bounced in anticipation, she fiddled with her split ends, and her mouth fairly resembled the Sahara — no matter how many times she compulsively swallowed.

When the Floo finally flared green, Rose quickly stood to better see both Remus and Sirius emerge from the flames. Remus took one look at her and opened his arms in welcome invitation that she readily took. The girl walked straight into his chest and let him hug her tight, scrunching her face and biting down hard onto her tongue to ward off any tears. His hugs always reminded her of everything warm and wonderful about the world: hot cocoa and crackling fireplaces and soft blankets.

"We saw the papers." Remus pulled back and gently cradled her face in one coarse hand, "Are you doing all right, Rosie?"

No, no, not all right at all.

But still Rose forced a smile and said, "Yea. Yea, all right."

Instantly, she wanted to tell them she was showing, but she wasn't sure if he'd be able to tell, and she also wasn't entirely sure showing was exactly good news to the men who loved her like a daughter. In any case, her godfather merely pecked a kiss to her forehead and released her for Sirius to quickly take a turn at giving her a tight hug, the sort that promised utmost devotion and murderous intent if anyone should ever hurt her.

Rose appreciated it, certainly when the Floo flared next.

One after the other, all three Malfoys emerged in the Headmaster's office — not tripping, all immaculately dressed. Draco didn't look at her when his family entered the Headmaster's office. He only stared resolutely forward and more or less ignored her entire existence, straightening even further when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy turned their attention on Rose herself.

"Ah." Mister Malfoy clucked with clear disgust, looking her up and down, "So there you are."

Rose winced.

Turned out: no amount of prettiness would ever be armour enough to protect her from them.

Remus wrapped an arm around Rose's back, halfway tucking her between him and Sirius.

Missus Malfoy, for her part, seemed struck silent at the presence of her long—lost supposed mass murdering cousin, and when Mister Malfoy caught sight of him, he exclaimed, "And you!"

Sirius looked all too smug at the horrified look on the Pureblood's face.

"Sirius — Black. Oh, I might have known, Dumbledore always did like to surround himself with the most... colourful of characters." This, again, was said with distinct disgust, and Mister Malfoy arched a pale brow at her godfather, "You dare to presume that I won't turn you into the Ministry at my earliest convenience?"

"Go ahead." Sirius dared scornfully, chest puffing up in preparation for a whole slew of insults, "I'd love to see you try, you pompous, ugly, pale—faced, slimy—,"

Rose sighed. Remus squeezed her arm in comfort.

It was nice, of course, but it didn't help very much.

Dumbledore seemed to be making a concerted effort not to roll his eyes when he loudly cut in, "Sirius Black is innocent, Mister Malfoy, as you and all of us in the room know beyond a shadow of a doubt. Must we really get into the details, or shall we commence with what we came here to discuss?"

Mister Malfoy's lips pinched but after a moment he spat, "Fine."

"Then, please, why don't you all take a seat?"

Slowly, everyone obeyed — with Rose's family on one side of the room and Draco's family on the other. As expected, it was very tense. No one seemed willing to speak first or even look at one another. Rose just wanted to make herself smaller and smaller to the point that she disappeared entirely. Finally, the Headmaster took the lead, thank God.

"I wish to thank you all for coming today," began Dumbledore hospitably, "While I am more than aware that we do not see eye—to—eye on most matters, I do believe it is imperative for us to discuss as a unit how best to proceed with the predicament Miss Potter and Mister Malfoy have found themselves in..."

He let the silence longer while he glanced pointedly between Rose and Draco who both refused to meet his eyes.

Missus Malfoy cleared her throat and her porcelain face looked almost doll—like when she asked politely, "Miss Potter — Rose, is it?" When the girl shyly nodded, the woman asked, "How far along are you?"

"Twelve weeks, or, uhm, three months."

"Ah." Missus Malfoy hummed in understanding, something softer awakening on her face. "Then dizzy spells and headaches and increased fatigue are to be expected soon. I recommend imbibing a Bitterroot Potion, it assists much with the symptoms specifically during this time. It will make your life easier, this I can attest to."

Advice. Narcissa Malfoy was giving her advice. This was so weird, and almost... friendly?

"I—I will," Rose licked her lips. "Thank you."

Mister Malfoy seemed to be ignoring them, as if pretending this conversation simply didn't even exist.

"Do you know at twelve weeks all of your child's vital organs have formed?" Missus Malfoy continued, a bit warmer than she seemed at first. "In fact, some women start showing around now, but only just slightly as the child is not very big at this stage—,"

"The size of a lime," Rose confided almost giddily before pulling herself back together, though she thought she saw Draco's lips quirk up slightly before disappearing.

Remus smiled gently at her, and Sirius didn't look too upset this time, she didn't think.

"This is wonderful," commented Dumbledore with a twinkle in his blue eyes, "Moving forward, I hope this amiability will continue and we can come to an arrangement that suits everyone."

"The only arrangement I foresee suiting us," Mister Malfoy interjected sternly, twisting his snakehead cane between his legs, "Is removing the problem from the equation — that is the girl or the fetus, if not both."

Draco tensed in his chair between his parents.

Rose, determined not to be controlled, straightened up and loudly said, "I'm not going to hide, and I'm not going to get rid of my baby either."

Mister Malfoy fairly snarled at her, "Don't be stupid!"

Rose cringed and refused to look the man's way.

"That takes care of Draco," Sirius replied defensively.

"Call your blessed goddaughter stupid!" Mister Malfoy snapped in reply, "She is the one who got herself into trouble!"

Despite herself, Rose's jaw dropped and her face flooded with the familiar heat of anger.

"Father!" Draco burst, but his father sharply waved a hand to silence him.

The boy obeyed.

The girl had to look away.

"Oh, she got herself pregnant, did she?" Sirius growled, clenching hard at his armrests as if they were keeping him from mauling the man, "What's the matter, Lucius? Does your precious Dark Lord not approve of relations with those less Pure than you?"

"Sirius—," Remus tried to interrupt to no avail.

Mister Malfoy stood from his chair to hiss, "Make no mistake, that girl has sullied our bloodline, and not only the Dark Lord but the whole of our world will know of it now!"

"Lucius, please," Missus Malfoy cut in with a thinly veiled sigh, "Let us not bring the Dark Lord into this—,"

"Why not, Cissy, hm?" Sirius hissed at the woman who used to be his cousin. "Your husband wants to make my goddaughter disappear so she won't burden your family! Going to do this every time Draco gets a girl pregnant?"

"Sirius," Remus muttered disapprovingly.

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into the arms of her wooden chair. God, she really wanted to disappear. Smaller and smaller and smaller.

Missus Malfoy apparently decided to ignore Rose's godfathers entirely, looking at Dumbledore only. "Perhaps Miss Potter ought to drop out of school? Her continued presence, not to mention a child's, will likely be too much of a distraction for the other students—,"

"You mean it would be too much of a reminder of your son's indiscretion," Sirius sneered.

Rose groaned into her hands and burst out, "I am going to have this baby and I am going to graduate from Hogwarts!"

"Ah, but, Rosie," Sirius groused grouchily, "They want to talk about what works for them. What's Draco going to do while you graduate — stay home and babysit? Like any Pureblood heir is really cut out for something like that."

Draco whipped around to scowl even as Rose winced at this.

"How dare you!"

"As if house elves didn't raise Draco from the moment you dropped him in your grand mansion's nursery!" Sirius shot back, "What do you intend for your son to do, huh? How is he going to take responsibility?"

"I am sure," Missus Malfoy rather stiffly said, "Financial compensation can be made."

"We don't want your f—cking money," her godfather growled.

He was right about that, at least, Rose sighed to herself.

Remus placed a quelling hand on her arm and spoke in a much more level tone, "Thankfully, James and Lily Potter ensured that their children would be well—taken care of so while that is appreciated, it is not necessary. What Sirius is trying — rather badly," here he shot Sirius a harsh look before continuing, "To explain is that we're wondering if and how Draco intends to be involved in the life of their future child?"

"Thank you, Remus," Dumbledore broke in, nodding appreciatively.

In the ensuing silence, Rose waited with bated breath.

When Draco opened his mouth to respond, his father beat him to it, "Never will it be said that a Malfoy shirks his duties."

Sirius snorted.

Remus hissed around Rose, "Sirius, for Merlin's sake—,"

"What?" Her godfather snapped back, his worry coalescing bitterly into anger, "They talk about not shirking their duties, but has Draco helped her at all since he found out? Since the news tried to humiliate her? Have you noticed he hasn't said anything yet — at all — since he got here? All he wants to do is give her money to buy her silence and then shunt her off somewhere she won't be a problem for them like she's some dirty little secret! He is going to do f—ck all for our Rosie and in the end, she'll only end up hurt!"

"He has helped me!" Rose burst, startling everyone, while her hands tightened into fists on her thighs, "It's not like that, Sirius!"

Sirius turned on her, looking totally and desperately wretched. "Rose, I don't understand, was this because of how those Muggles raised you? Is this some kind of payback for me not being around for you and Harry—?"

"No, God, it isn't about you, Sirius!" Rose insisted, looking from face to face furiously, "That's what none of you seem to understand! This isn't about any of you, it's about us!"

Draco jerked up to look at her, eyes wide and shocked and, God, so completely approving.

"As a matter of fact—," Dumbledore's voice drew their attention, forcing everyone in the office to be finally silent, "I believe I have come up with a solution for you all."

Every witch and wizard present turned to stare at the Headmaster with rising trepidation, not totally liking the look coming over his wizened face.

"Everything is changing in our world, and this is a complication that none of us need at the moment — no matter whose side you're on." Dumbledore said pointedly, looking between the two very divided groups of people in his office. "This child, if it's decided Miss Potter intends to keep it, needs to be hidden as far away from the wizarding world as possible. Thus, I propose we send it to stay with her relatives until the war has finished—,"

"Are you mad?!" Rose couldn't keep the words behind her gritted teeth, the thought too much to bear as she leapt to her feet, "My baby's not coming within fifty feet of the Dursleys!"

Sirius ducked his head, and she knew hearing about how much she hated the people they'd been left with hurt her godfather, but she couldn't keep silent.

Not now.

Not anymore.

Dumbledore gave her a slightly sympathetic but generally firm frown, "Rose, you know the dangers that await any child born in your family. Now that Voldemort—," here, the three Malfoys winced, "—Has discovered that Rose Potter is pregnant, protecting your child might soon become impossible. Would you truly risk their safety in the meantime?"

Rose's chest was heaving with her anger and panic, feeling these two emotions stir like a hurricane inside her chest. "If you think that for one second that I'm going to send my child to live with those people, you've completely lost your mind!"

"My girl, please."

"I refuse. I won't leave my child there! Not knowing how they are and what they did to us!"

In the resounding silence of that final statement, Rose caught her breath and turned bright red. Oh God. Oh God, no, she said too much.

She said far more than she meant to.

Everyone was staring at her.

That was, until Lucius Malfoy began a slow clap.

"Of course. How utterly responsible of you. If this is any indication of how you intend to rear a child, you horrible girl, then you're clearly unfit to be a mother. What's worse is that you intend to doom us all with your disgustingly Gryffindor sentimentalities!" With this, he whirled back to face the Headmaster to shout, "Surely, you cannot leave such an important decision in the hands of a mere child, Dumbledore! I won't allow it!"

"It's her decision."

Everyone whipped around to gape at Draco in genuine shock.

The blond boy kept his eyes levelled on the floor near his shiny shoes even as he spoke, "This is Potter's decision. It's her life."

Rose thought her heart might leap straight out of her chest.

"Be silent, Draco!" Mister Malfoy hissed. "Do you not think you've made enough mistakes thus far?!"

"It wasn't a mistake." Draco said, raising his head now — very slowly.

Rose's breath caught, her heart stopped, the whole world slowed in its rotation.

"What are you blathering on about now?" scathed Mister Malfoy. "You do not mean to tell me that you genuinely wished to be with the likes of that girl?"

An inhale. An exhale. Then, a confession.

"I did."

"What?"

"I did want to be with her. And the only mistake I've made thus far," Draco spoke slowly and meaningfully, standing to face his father head—on, "Was letting you try and convince me to take the d—mned Dark Mark."

Mister Malfoy backhanded Draco hard enough to make him trip back a step.

It was though he had slapped everyone in the room at once. Everyone gasped and then instantly fell silent. Missus Malfoy had looked away as if this somehow made it not real. Rose immediately moved to step in, but both Remus and Sirius held her back with sad shakes of their heads. Furious, the girl looked at Dumbledore — the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the supposed leader of the Light, the defender of all schoolchildren — and the man did nothing.

F—cking shocking.

Without saying a single word, Draco swiftly spun around and marched for the door which he slammed soundly shut, leaving all of them behind.

There was a ringing in the air. No one wanted to even breathe.

Mouth still hanging open, Rose quickly stood to follow before Sirius snatched onto her sleeve to yank her back.

"No, Rosie, you're not going anywhere with that little b—stard!" Sirius' voice changed from angry to desperate in the second when he tried to reason with her, "Rose, your parents wouldn't have wanted this. James would have— f—ck, I don't know, I don't know what he would've wanted to do, but I—I should forbid you to see him!"

She tried to pry his fingers off, "Sirius."

"Tell her, Remus, tell Rosie that boy's not worth it — she is!"

"It's not just about him, it's—!"

"I would suggest listening to your godfather, Rose," Dumbledore intoned, face grim and warning, "You need to think about what you do next before you make a grave mistake. You would risk your life by throwing your lot in with a Dark—aligned boy who might not even care about you in a year's time—,"

"Just shut up!"

Everyone was shocked — literally everyone.

Heart pounding, blood pumping, Rose quickly turned and stalked across the office towards the door. She could feel her throbbing heartbeat in the tips of her fingers while they reached for the well—polished brass doorknob.

"Rosie!" Sirius called after her, getting ignored.

"Sirius, just let her go—," tried Remus through a sigh.

"Rosie," Sirius didn't listen, shockingly desperate as he shouted, "Rose Lily Potter, don't you go out that door—!"

Also slamming the door behind her — purposefully loud, Rose hurried down the spiraling steps after the blond boy, "Draco!"

He didn't look back, he didn't even spare a single glance. If anything, he seemed to pick up the pace.

"Hey, stop, wait for me!"

"Where do you think you're going?!" Draco angrily tossed over his shoulder, already moving swiftly down the corridor.

"With you!" Rose struggled to keep up, trying and failing to catch her breath.

"Absolutely not." He seethed, digging his hands into his robe pockets, still spitting the words like curses behind him, "Potter, you can't be anywhere near me — that should be obvious. You should go back inside that office before you get us both in trouble."

"I can't go back." Rose stopped chasing him, simply standing still and telling him, "I just told Dumbledore to shut up."

Draco immediately skidded to a halt, turning very slowly so he could raise his eyebrows at her in utter bewilderment. He had a red handprint raised on the side of his face. He didn't seem to feel it anymore when he questioned, "You told our Headmaster — Albus bloody Dumbledore — to shut up?"

"I did." A beat, and then after breaking into a shy grin, Rose held up her little finger, "I pinky—swear."

Draco's lips twitched up, but his tone was very flat when he informed her, "I have no idea what a 'pinky—swear' is."

Her lips twitched too and she shrugged while saying, "I guess you're just gonna have to take my word for it, then."

There was a long pause before Draco smirked just a little.

"You better come on, then."

Rose smirked back and fell into step with the boy, resisting a mad round of halfway hysterical giggles while they set off down the corridor side—by—side.

"I wish I had a photo of his face."

𓆙

Life was going to shite.

Which wasn't at all surprising.

Class with Umbridge was only getting worse, and every second of every day felt a bit closer to an actual implosion. It would be both horrible and incredible to watch. In other news, Rose hadn't seen much of Malfoy (or should she call him Draco?) since the Parent Meeting, and she'd been purposefully ignoring any and all letters from Sirius for the moment. If she was expecting punishment for telling the Headmaster to 'shut up', she needn't have worried. It wasn't like Dumbledore was going anywhere near his students these days, anyway.

And for once, that was fine with Rose.

Mostly, she just wanted the world to leave her the hell alone while she tried to figure out what to do. It was the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year, and most of the Upper Years had already left for the village. Rose and Harry were the oldest Gryffindors currently at the lunch table, and while her brother was reading, she was in deep contemplation with her Pro and Con list. It wasn't going very well.

"There's always adoption," Rose blurted with absolutely no warning.

Harry looked up from his book (Quidditch Through the Ages, she thought), blinking, "What?"

"I mean, Missus Weasley was right. Loads of people would want a baby, right?"

Harry looked away, "Right."

Rose bit her lip.

At first, she had decided to keep the baby because she had always wanted a family, someone to truly call her own, to love and be loved in return, but... this was selfish, wasn't it? She was fifteen and unequipped and wasn't that almost cruel to do to a child?

Harry looked back at her, frown deepening, "You're not eating enough."

"Must run in the family then," she pointed out.

Her brother wasn't playing along. "All you ate today was fruit salad. Hardly substantial."

"Sure, but healthy."

"Sure, but not fattening, and Madam Pomfrey said you need fattening."

"I'll get fat enough," Rose grumbled pointedly. It wasn't that she was purposefully not eating, and it wasn't even that she was nauseous like she'd been during summer. She was just full of so many d—mn feelings it was like the part of herself that felt hunger was switched off. The girl huffed and got to her feet, saying, "I'll see you in Hogsmeade later?"

"Ugh." Harry's miserable face made her smirk slightly. "Not if I can help it."

Rose and Hermione had invited loads of people to meet at the Hog's Head to actually learn Defense since Umbridge was teaching complete shite. They needed a teacher, someone who knew what they were doing and was actually willing to show them. Unfortunately, Harry liked their plan a little less.

Rose's teasing smirk faded slightly while she murmured, "You don't have to do it, you know."

"I know." Her brother murmured, digging his hands in his pockets. "But I think I should."

Rose nudged his cheek fondly before gathering her books and heading out. As she left the Great Hall and headed towards the courtyard, the girl couldn't ignore the itchy feeling of being stared at.

Rose never envied Harry the attention that he received at Hogwarts, being The Boy Who Lived, and for so much of their lives, her older brother had tried to shield her from it — just like he tried to save her from everything, from the very beginning.

Maybe Voldemort was going to leave her alive in the cot after he killed her brother, but she doubted it. He had killed her father and then her mother, and so why would he spare her? Maybe, she thought, maybe Harry had thrown himself between them. It was a ridiculous thought, seeing as how Harry was just one year old at the time, but it seemed like something Harry would do — even as a little baby.

It was his 'saving people thing' as Hermione always called it, but it was more refined in Rose's case, more specific and intense.

Harry had been saving her ever since she could remember. She didn't think he'd ever stop.

But this — he couldn't save her from this.

It was her own doing; she made her own bed and she had to lie in it.

Hogsmeade was not usually as busy as Diagon Alley, but as soon as she entered the village edge, she knew today would be an exception. It seemed that the whole bloody world knew that it was Hogwarts' Hogsmeade weekend and so the entire place was packed tight with reporters and tourists who wanted to sneak a peek at the newest Potter freak show.

Grand.

The girl kept her head down and walked fast, although she already knew it was useless.

"Rose!" Someone was shouting before she'd gotten five steps into the village, "Rosie, over here!"

At the nickname, she instinctively looked up in surprise, and her heart instantly sank. It was clearly a reporter. And... d—mn it.

"Sorry, can't talk," Rose managed to say. "In a rush, you know."

She quickened her steps — suddenly desperately wishing for her broom, but the reporter managed to keep pace. Bloody hell.

"No worries, Rosie! Just tell me this: when did you start fancying Draco Malfoy? From the way I've heard it, the Potters and the Malfoys have hated each other since day one!"

"Uhm, it's more complicated than that."

Straightening his ugly plaid top hat, the reporter walked backwards to concentrate on her face, "More complicated? In what way? Is it true you only slept with him for his fortune? Or did he only sleep with you to get close to The Boy Who Lived?"

"No," Rose snapped, offended and more than a little humiliated, "No, it's not anything like that—,"

"No? What do you have to say to the people who think they deserve to know just what exactly is happening in the lives of two very prominent teenagers in the wizarding world?"

"I think they've got a right to nothing except to f—,"

"What our darling Rose Potter means is—," Draco Malfoy materialised out of the bloody shadows with an expression of pure dignity and calm, shocking both Rose and the reporter half to death, "—The public does not have any right to our personal business, and we ask for some privacy at this time."

"If you say so. How is she in bed?" The reporter leered, giving the boy a wink.

Rose gaped.

Now, Malfoy's face hardened. "Actually, she's exactly right, you all can f—ck off. And you may quote me on that, too."

Then Malfoy took Rose's hand, and together, they escaped into the nearest pub which happened to be — unfortunately — the Hog's Head. The dodgy place was busier than it had likely ever been in its entire history, but thank God, no one seemed to notice as they stumbled in. For now. Rose dug a hand into the back of Malfoy's very expensive looking robe and dragged him behind a nearby pillar to shield them from view. The boy didn't mind being maneuvered; he was much too distracted with being totally disgusted.

"Ick." His face twisted. "What is this place?"

"What?" Rose arched a brow, sassing, "Worried about getting your shoes dirty?"

Malfoy looked up from staring at the smeared windows and crummy counters and crusty floor. "Actually, yes."

Well, Rose blinked nonplussed, At least he's honest.

"You might actually thank me, you know."

"And why in the hell would I do that?"

Malfoy glowered and threw a hand towards the exit, "Because I just saved you from that reporter—,"

"No," Rose countered furiously, "You saved yourself. And your reputation. And your good name. I'm not an idiot, Malfoy, do not treat me like one."

Malfoy's lips thinned until they were almost white, "Fine. I was trying to save us both, how about that?"

Rose arched a brow.

"Whatever, Potter." He sighed heavily. "I was trying to find you, in any case."

"Oh." Her traitorous little heart jumped inside her chest. She tried to hide it. "Why?"

"I wasn't lying, at the Parent Meeting."

"Lying." Rose repeated cautiously, warily.

"This — us — the baby," he motioned between them and then at her stomach, murmuring, "It was an accident, unplanned — obviously, but it wasn't a mistake."

It was as if he had knocked the wind out of her, and for a moment, she struggled for breath.

Softly, so softly:

"You mean it?"

Just as softly:

"Of course I mean it."

The whole world seemed to fade away in the second, that briefest slip in time, between heartbeats and breaths, when it was only him and her and their future laid out beautifully before them.

Then, Malfoy said, quickly — so quickly — as if in a rush to keep his nerve, "I've been thinking, and... listen. I know that, in your eyes, I—I have little to recommend myself. But if I— that is, if you'd let me, if I could, neither of you would want for anything—,"

All this stuttering and stumbling was so completely unlike the ever cool Draco Malfoy that it was honestly a bit frightening. Really, Rose couldn't seem to keep up, shaking her head as she tried to understand. "Malfoy, what—?"

"Not for devotion, nor... even, affection. If you only say the word, I could give you both whatever you would need. No matter what your brother and friends think, I am capable! I am sure of it, for the right person—,"

"Oi!"

They both jumped and spun.

And then Rose instantly froze because now everyone in the entire pub (all of her friends and Housemates and distant acquaintances) were gaping at them. Grand. Neville looked horrified, Harry looked irritated, Hermione looked worried, and red—faced and angry, Ron jerked himself up from his spot by the hearth.

"What's going on here?!"

"Nothing." Rose groaned and rubbed a hand over her face, "He just—, we just happened upon each other in the village—,"

"Why?" Malfoy spat back, just as unpleasant as ever. "Have something to hide, Potter?"

Ugh. Rose groaned behind her teeth.

Harry's angry eyes darted to his sister, "Rose—,"

"I'll handle it." Rose muttered and turned quickly on the blond, "Just go, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave her one last long look before he disappeared through the door and into the sunlight.

𓆙

Rose didn't see Draco again for the rest of the weekend, too preoccupied with the start of 'Dumbledore's Army' as they'd decided to call it. Mostly, their secret organisation was made up of the expected Gryffindors, a cluster of sympathetic Hufflepuffs, and a few Ravenclaws whom Rose had met through study groups. It was unsurprising that Harry became the natural leader by unanimous vote, no matter how hesitant he was about the whole thing. Already, they had weekly meetings scheduled for the rest of the term and lesson plans drawn up for each, not to mention the Come and Go Room to practise in.

Come Monday morning, Rose was nearly buzzing with anticipation for their first meeting as she, Hermione, and Luna walked the halls together before eventually splitting for their separate classes.

"Ron is driving me absolutely mad," Hermione was mid—rant and Rose completely understood. "I don't think it's so much to ask to just be a friend. It's not like I would, you know, expect anything more from him. We all used to be so close, but now whenever Hogsmeade weekends are brought up, he just gets so awkward. It's as if he doesn't even know how to have a normal conversation with me anymore!"

"Perhaps he's fallen under the spell of a Gulping Plimpy," Luna informed her helpfully. "They've been known to induce awkward conversations."

"Huh," said Rose, faintly.

Hermione scrunched her nose, shooting a questioning glance at Rose who could only shrug. What the hell a Gulping Plimpy was, neither of them knew. Still, after three years of friendship with Luna Lovegood, Rose Potter was fairly sure that asking what it was would likely lead to only more confusion. So...

"Well," Rose tried to be the voice of reason. "Besides the Gulping Plimpies, mostly I think Ron's problem is that he's an idiot who's struggling to get out of his own way—,"

"Potter!"

The girls jerked to a stop halfway to their morning classes, Rose's shoulders nearly up to her ears when she glanced back to see Malfoy striding towards her with determination in every step.

"He must have something important to say," Luna noted airily.

"Yes, or something upsetting," Hermione fretted, looking nervously at Rose.

"Potter," Malfoy repeated once he reached them, taking deep heaving inhales, clearly trying to steady his breathing. "If I might talk to you alone?"

Instantly, three pairs of eyes looked to Rose for approval.

Rose, like an idiot, didn't even hesitate. "Sure."

Hermione, always the mother hen, worried, "Oh, but Rosie—,"

"It's all right, 'Mione, you go on."

Hermione gave her a very, very uncertain look, but Luna tugged on her sleeve, chiming, "They'll be okay, Hermione. I think Draco Malfoy's about to be quite gentlemanly. You'll see. Come away, now."

Rose shot Luna a grateful look as Hermione reluctantly let herself be pulled away. Then, once the girls were fully out of earshot, she turned fully to face Malfoy. His platinum hair was shockingly mussed and his clothes were in near disarray, and he looked very much like he'd been in a rush to get wherever he wanted to go. Which was to her, apparently. Brow furrowing, she opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

Then, with absolutely no warning at all, he informed her: "I'm with you."

Rose blinked, bewildered. "What...?"

"I am with you." Malfoy told her again, slower, more firmly. "Whether or not you decide to give away the child, I will be with you every step of the way, until the very end."

A rush of shock and joy immediately overwhelmed Rose's weary heart, but something darkened at the corners of her relief.

"But—But what about your father? What about Pureblood supremacy and your duty to your family and the fact that I've sullied your bloodline—?"

"No." Malfoy sternly shook his head, gaze levelled with her own. "I—I have decided to be done with that, Rose. I'm finished with all of it. I promise. It's not about cleaning up my messes; it's about a different kind of duty now. And I rather like the idea of a little Potter—Malfoy, a child with blond hair and golden eyes. Merlin, just picture it."

Rose's mouth twitched to smile before she exhaled hard and fell back against the nearest wall, suddenly exhausted all over again, emptied, hollow, despite the life blooming inside of her. Malfoy stepped closer cautiously, as if approaching a potentially skittish doe.

"Do you believe me?"

After a moment, Rose gave him a sad sort of smile, "I want to."

He stiffened. "But...?"

"But can you really just decide to be done with an entire mindset, at the drop of a hat? I've known you for five years, Malfoy. It's my friends you call 'Mudbloods' and my brother you mock and my life you look down on. I don't want you to fake it. I want it to be real. And..." This was harsh but honest, and the practical Ravenclaw within Rose recognised that it needed to be said, "I'm not sure if I'll like the real you."

Malfoy stopped and bowed his head for a moment, as if processing this, as if accepting it. Then he raised his face with an intensely thoughtful expression that nearly took her breath away.

"That person I was before — what I've grown up to be, perhaps that wasn't really me. Sometimes when you're raised a certain way, you just become something, that is, your role happens to you, instead of you choosing it. And I know I'm responsible for letting that happen. I let it slip over me, even when — sometimes — I really didn't want it to. I don't... I'm not that, though, I don't think. I want to be friends. I think this could be good." Then, as if an afterthought, he quietly added, "And I like you... quite a bit."

He liked her.

He wanted to be friends.

She supposed... it was better than nothing.

"I don't want to be like my father," he confided quietly but quickly, as if in a rush to confess. "I don't want to be cruel, especially not to my child. I don't want to be that, ever. Let me prove it to you."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed and murmured, "It can't be like it's been before, though, Malfoy. I can't have you be hot and cold with me, otherwise you're honestly gonna give me emotional whiplash."

"It won't be like before." He assured her firmly. "I swear it."

Despite everything, Rose wanted so badly to believe him, so she had to know. "Why were you so cruel to me that last time in class? The things you said..."

Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and he nodded just once. "I was stupid, Rose. Of course I was stupid! I wanted to push you away because that was what you deserved."

Rose recoiled with an obvious cringe, hurt again, but when Malfoy saw the expression bloom on her face, he squeezed his eyes shut and quickly shook his head.

"No, not like that. I—I'm saying this all wrong." With a deep breath, he seemed to gather his thoughts and opened his eyes to fully look at her when he continued, "You were drunk, Rose. That night, you were drunk and I was not, and yet I slept with you. You don't deserve me, or this. You deserve far better, and so I tried to push you away. For you to so much as breathe the same air as me is wholly repugnant."

Rose's breath left her with a whoosh and she closed her eyes too, raising a hand to rub her brow. "Draco. You and I both know that I wanted it. I wanted it to happen, I wanted you."

"But how could you?" Draco countered stubbornly, gut—wrenchingly, "How could you be drunk and know what you want? You couldn't have consented to anything in that state—,"

"You didn't know I was drunk," she defended, quite reasonably she thought. "We were both upset, how were you supposed to tell? You asked me, again and again, you asked—,"

"It doesn't change the simple facts. I as good as... I practically—," he couldn't say the words, but he didn't need to.

"No, Draco, you didn't."

"How do you know?"

Breath quickening, she sounded more than a little strangled, "I think I'd know the difference—!"

"But how can you?" He shot back, sounding utterly desolate. "What if you're just trying to make yourself feel better because you want me involved with our child? What if you're just trying to convince yourself nothing bad happened because it was so traumatising?! How can you know that I didn't—?!"

"Because it's happened to me before!" Rose finally shouted, echoing in the empty corridor.

Draco froze, face pale and instantly clammy. "W—What?"

"Oh God."

Rose covered her face with her hands, trying to catch her breath so she didn't hyperventilate. Breathe in, count to five, breathe out, count to five, breathe in... When she dropped her hands, Draco was staring at her with shiny silver eyes and a solemn dread expression carved into his perfect face.

"You can't tell anyone this, not ever, do you understand?" The girl was more serious than she had ever been in her life, maybe more serious than she ever would be again. "No one knows this. Not Harry or Hermione or Remus, no one. All right? And if you tell them, if you tell anyone, I'll never, ever forgive you. Can you promise—?"

"I promise," he whispered instantly, those silver eyes locked on hers.

Where to start? Oh God, how could she even start?

Rose exhaled softly and shook her head as if to steel herself, but it didn't help very much — if at all. Then, very softly, almost distantly, she whispered, "I used to blame myself. Think it was my fault. After I found out I was a witch, I wondered why my magic never fought back, why I wasn't strong enough, why I couldn't have stopped him... I didn't want it, I know that. I know it."

Draco stepped silently closer, hands slightly extended, to show he meant no harm.

Rose couldn't look at him, she couldn't even allow herself to remember he was real right now.

"It was his blame, his wrongs, but when I couldn't blame myself, I tried to blame my mum. Everyone said she was so pretty, and I looked so much like her, and if she wasn't so pretty and if I wasn't so much like her, then maybe he wouldn't have..."

Her throat closed up before she could even get the words out, no matter how much she wanted to breathe them into existence. No matter how much she wanted to purge them like poison. She snuffed hard and wiped roughly at her cheeks, not realising until just now that they were damp. Draco was there, and very, very tentatively he reached out a hand so his fingers could brush hers.

"He wouldn't have... what?" He prompted gently, seeming to understand.

Rose closed her eyes so she could finally say it, "My uncle, he would... touch me. It never... never went all the way, but..." She let out a shuddering breath, wet and soft. "I know what it's called. I know the difference."

When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her — not with horror, not with pity, but with something far more gentle. It was hurt and grief and more than that, it was understanding. It was what she needed. For all these years, it was as if she'd been carrying glass around in her mouth, and now that she'd finally said what had happened to her, she had spit all the glass out.

Bloody—mouthed, she felt free.

Free enough to say this: "So please, Draco, don't ever call— that night, please don't call it that. It was good. What we did, I wanted it."

Draco stared at her, not saying a word.

Quietly, almost mockingly, Rose dared, "Still staying with me now?"

For the first time, he looked almost angry when he crossed the short distance between them and gripped her hands tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. Yes, yes. Despite everything, despite all of it, she truly believed him.

Softly, he said her name. And she said his name too, over and over. Like an oath, like a promise. He released her hands only to put his arms around her, and she buried her face into his shoulder to cry. She cried for their tiny little heartbeat, cried for her own heartbeat, cried angrily because it happened to her and cried happily because it would never happen to her own baby. They stood like that, forever it seemed, together, Rose against the wall, Draco pressed to her side. Leaning against each other, like real lovers did.

It might be enough.

ANNIE SPEAKS

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so... hi. at this point, i ought to just make my posting day a saturday. i won't but i should, lol. sorry, i've been feeling kind of sicky this week so i haven't had a lot of energy or motivation to do- well, anything. but here i am, a day late but with a chapter! and hey, they're making progress! we have a long way to go, but this is something! draco and rose are so cute and tragic and traumatized, i love them. also, vernon needs to die. which he will.... hehehe. 

also, this song is perfect for them, i was so freaking excited to finally use it. what were your thoughts for this chapter?? i'm dying to hear!

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NEXT TIME IN WICKED GAME!

"Okay," Rose said at last, and against her will, her eyes started to brim.

"Okay," Draco said back as if fortifying himself. "But we have to hold on to each other, Potter. We can't let go."

One rebellious tear trickled down her face.

"No," she agreed, her throat tighter than a vice.

"We aren't like other people."

"I know."