(p.s. there is a lot of French in here that i believe to be perfect. now the Italian, i have no clue....
anyways, enjoy <3)

third person pov

' i'd never walk Cornelia street again '

"I've eaten," Rose says, plopping the empty coffee cup on top of the wooden breakfast tray. "Now, may I go see Whitman, or do you all plan on watching me change?"

Theo, from his spot next to her on the bed, looks down at the foot, where Blaise sits, Zabini's back resting against the framing, and then to the door where Draco just entered.

"You've been asleep for three days," Draco informs her, as if she does not already know. "And you woke up less than an hour ago. Don't you want a minute to breathe? All you've had time to do is shower and eat."

"Exactly, I have been asleep for three days, and I feel amazing, body-wise." She says, eyes turning suspicious of them all. "He has no doubt been blaming and hating himself the whole time, and I tried to go as soon as I woke up, but you all said I needed to eat first because he was sleeping."

The door creaks open, Regulus slipping inside.

Draco lets out a breath of relief. "Reg? She's wanting to go see Whit?"

Regulus does not meet her eye, already consumed with too much guilt of being the reason no one was here, defeated at the idea none of them believed Theo. He clears his throat, plastering on a facade of calmness. "Whit is still asleep, Rosie. It's barely ten in the morning, you know."

"I still want to go see him."

"Ro," Theo, who has not been able to let his eyes leave her, all too relieved to see her breathing and speaking, reaches for her hand. "Why don't we go to muggle village while you wait? When I got back you said you had someone there you wanted to introduce me to. Let's go do that, yeah?"

They all hold their breath as her eyes narrow, scanning each and every one of them, before she lets her gaze settle on Theo again, a smile forming. "Yeah, let's go." She says, nodding to the others, "Do any of you want to go?"

"Muggle?" Blaise mutters, "No thank you."

Draco averts his eyes toward Regulus. "I think I'll..." He straightens up. "Reg, you had an appointment today, right? I can go with you."

Regulus begins to smile, very suddenly, and cocks an eyebrow toward Draco. "Yeah, but you'll still be seeing muggles, no way out of that one." He says, "I'm going to buy a boat."

An abrupt laugh leaves Rose, causing confused glances to be shared except from Regulus, who stares at her displeased.

"Good idea," She says, between another laugh. "Don't want to risk you drowning, hm?"

Regulus makes his way to the foot of the bed, coming to stand behind Blaise, and pointing a finger at her. "You are unbelievable." He deadpans.

"What, Reg?" She mocks, "You don't want them all to know about your inability to swim?"

"You can't swim?" Draco wondered, lips lifting.

"I'm so confused..." Blaise muttered.

"Don't be confused, Blaise." Regulus places his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Rosie likes to make fun of how I chose to kill myself. I like to make fun of her brain damage." He pauses, smiling as if vindicated. "Does everyone know that her 'quirks' are just from immense brain damage? The more you know!"

She gasps. "We don't talk about that! I'm still a genius!"

"Ah yes," Regulus sighs. "A genius, brain damage and all." He claps his hands together, nodding to Draco. "Chop, chop, we have to leave."

"Yes, go Draco!" Rose encourages, "But do me a favor and only push him into the water if it's shallow!"

Regulus shoots her a single glare before walking out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. Draco laughs to himself, heading straight to bed and grabbing onto the back of her head, pressing his lips to her own with unmatched ease.

It is only when Blaise groans that he pulls away, sending her a bright smile before following after Regulus, and does manage to actually close the door.

Theo grumbles and lifts the tray off the bed, setting it to the floor, and when he comes back up she is staring at him with raised brows. "What?" He says, "I did nothing."

"Don't be a pout," She says, sitting up a little straighter before crossing her legs and placing a hand on the side of his neck.

He doesn't make a remark back, but he takes hold of her face, using his sleeve to begin roughly wiping off her mouth, the action making her eyes fly wide open. She barely gets any time to react, or shove him off, because as soon as he finishes his lips are attacking her own, and he's rolling her flat into the bed with him.

Blaise chuckles as Rose's fight to get Theo off turns into her giggling against his lips. "You two make me feel very, very lonely." He announces, but there is no annoyance in his voice. It makes him happy to be around the pair, as if their joy rubs off, and witnessing them is a reminder that unbridled love exists.

Rose manages to push Theo's face off, breathless as ever, but his lips attack at her neck, and somehow, between laughing and weakly trying to shove him off, she manages to look over at Blaise, and say, "I'll give you a kiss, come on!"

Theo freezes, lifting up and taking a hold of her jaw. More laughter pours out of her at how serious he looks.

"I dare you, I will throw you out into that ocean."

Blaise crashes down next to them on the pillows, a grin on his face. "Come on Theo, wouldn't you prefer it be me over Draco?"

In an instant, Theo drops his entire body weight onto Rose, laying his head on her chest. "Yes actually, should we dump Draco in the ocean instead?"

"Shut up, the both of you!" Rose scolds, rolling her eyes when they both begin laughing. It takes a minute for her to pry him off her, in the end having to roughly roll him off and rush out of the bed before he can grab her again.

"Where do you think you are going, young lady?" Theo yells, situating himself on the pillows. Rose ignores him, but casts a glare over her shoulder as she pulls open the closet doors, walking straight in. "Oh come on! I was joking!"

Blaise's voice carries, "Please, do not pull out those atrocious pants!"

Theo looks over at the boy, "Jeans?" He asks. Blaise nods, and Theo has a deep laugh rumble in his chest at the memory.

They can't see her, but they can hear her yell back, "I bought one pair, Blaise! One pair! And, I wore them once!"

"It was disgraceful." He deadpans, "Here I am, always boasting about your great taste in clothing choices, and then one day, I'm walking into your room and finding that material on you."

Silence follows, except from Theo, who keeps laughing.

Blaise shakes his head, words aimed at Theo, "I will never forget, Theo. Never."

Theo sighs up at the ceiling, arm behind his head. "The jean scandal of nineteen ninety-five, let us never forget how traumatized we all were."

"You are both ridiculous."

They both turn their head at Rose's snappy voice, finding her in the doorway of the closet, a silky white blouse almost swallowing her, and the black skirt, whole.

Theo cocks an eyebrow. "Blouse is a little big, eh?"

"I'm going to tuck it in, Theodore." She snaps back.

Theo whistles before looking over at Blaise. "Uh oh...we've made her mad."

"Theodore!" She says, "Go get changed!"

He pushes himself up off the bed with a smile, his eyes looking her up and down as he moves toward her. "Yes ma'am." He says, placing a chaste to her head before she can smack him away. Rose narrows her eyes as she watches him walk out, staying straight-faced when he shoots her wink, but when he is gone, she smiles at the door, her head shaking.

That is until looking back at the bed, finding Blaise grinning at her all too knowingly. "Shut up," She mutters, tossing the mary janes that were in her hands directly at his chest. Blaise catches them with a grunt, his grin unwavering.

"I like your outfit," He says, cheeky as ever.

Her smile comes in the most sarcastic form. "Hm. I almost wore the jeans just for you." She says, before turning on her heel, heading towards the bathroom. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"No, no," He says, "Regardless of the odd muggles, you two need some time alone."

*

The village is not full of people like Theo expects, enough to be full of life, but not enough to be a place that indicates an overflow of tourists.

It is an old place, that's for sure.

The cobblestone streets are narrow, tanned and tattered buildings from time lining the sides, shops of all kinds; cafes, decorated shops, and tiny art galleries—equally as beautiful and all with different vines growing on the buildings, or oddly colorful flower baskets hanging by the windows.

"It looks like a painting," Theo had said, when they first made it there.

Rose had just smiled, and said, "It feels like one."

At first Theo was apprehensive, especially when a random man bumped into him with no care. But he sees Rose, pulling on his hand, guiding him forward with a bright smile as she tugs him down another street, explaining the places around them with those metaphorical rose-colored glasses she has always used to romanticize the world around her, something he claimed she got from reading, and he hears her laugh as an old french woman shoos a gray cat out of a clothing shop.

Then, because of her, he finds everything around them beautiful, mesmerizing in some form. His feet no longer feel tired, the warm air is no longer too much to take, and the idea of being there is the only one that exists in his mind.

Rose sighs, slightly leaning her head against his arm as they walk before saying, "I have a secret."

"Tell me," He dares, giving their intertwined fingers a squeeze.

She sends a smile up at him, one that makes his chest tighten. "I love doing normal couple stuff."

"Like walking?"

"No," She corrects, sounding like a lovesick fool and ignoring his sarcasm. "Holding hands, idiot."

A daming smirk slips across his lips as he looks down at her. "How would've thought I'd live to see the day?" He says, looking ahead after. "Rosalie Black, enjoying normal things? Admitting to it as well?"

He is joking of course, he knows how much she craves the softness of this world.

She giggles to herself and, with her free hand, smacks at his chest. "Shut up," She says, but then there is a drawn out pause, and her gaze falls, leaving him to know some stormy thought just crossed her mind. "Do you think...we'll ever get bored?"

"Baby," He breathed out, in shock she could think such an impossible thing. She looks up at him with hopefully eyes. He smiles, widely, and brushes his thumb over one of her rings. "We could never be boring. Not me and you, never."

"I know." She says, breathing out in relief, and starts half-laughing at herself. "I just needed to hear you say it."

"Silly girl," He mutters, bringing a hand around to pull her head in and press his lips on top. "I'd rip all of that doubt out of your mind if i could."

"You do," She tells him, "Every day. I'll keep doing it for you too, until our family's stupid little voices go away for good."

Love, love, love—Theodore Nott is drunk on hers.

He does not know it then, but his mother is there, watching and smiling, with tears in her eyes and a heart full. He is safe, like she always knew he would be with Rose holding his hand. He is loved in a way few ever get, like she always knew he would be after the first time she tried pulling Theo from Rose's crib, and he pitched a fit so concerning she had called the mediwitches. But the mother remembers eventually walking by the crib with him in her arms, and he had almost leaned out of them, trying to get back inside, and when she placed the crying boy down, he crawled over to Rose's one year old self, and all fell quiet.

He had found his peace, even then.

Rose gives Theo one last smile and then she is off, tugging him so abruptly that he has no time to respond before they are standing in front of a propped open, pale-blue painted, door. The smell of baked bread, fresh oranges, and many different foods, floats through the crack.

He becomes consumed with confusion as Rose pulls him inside, what is clearly a restaurant, a place with wooden tables everywhere, chairs placed upside down on top, and low romantic lighting illuminating the warm space.

"I don't think it's open, love..." He mutters, but she keeps dragging him anyways, weaving through tables, and heading straight towards the bar in the back.

An older woman stands behind the bar, gray-haired and thin, glasses pressed against her eyes and hanging by a shiny chain, face buried into the newspaper. She waves them off without lifting her head, "Nous être fermé!"

Rose releases his hand, stepping past one of the red cushioned stools, and leaning against the shiny bartop. "Es-tu?" She wonders, reminding Theo of how good her french accent truly is.

Theo half expects the woman to pick up the broom behind her, leaning against the array of shelves full of bottles, and hit Rose for her cockiness towards a stranger.

But the old woman freezes, places down her newspaper, and lifts her head, a youthful smile spreading over her aged face.

Rose shoots the woman a devilish smirk.

"Rosalie!" The older woman shouts, the french accent slurring her words. She is already speeding out from behind the bar, going further and further down to the open exit. "Vous êtes de retour à la maison!"

As the woman makes her way toward them at a quick pace, Rose presses up off the bar. And when the woman nears with open arms, Rose does the most unexpected thing—she welcomes the woman with her own open arms.

They are spun around each other, the woman speaking french a million times over as she holds Rose tight, and Rose responding each time with excited responses. They keep going and going, and Theo becomes sure this is one of the most amusing things in the world, and when they finally stop spinning, Rose is smiling at him from over the woman's shoulder.

"Louise," Rose says, starting to pull back and take hold of the woman's arms. "J'ai quelqu'un que j'aimerais que vous rencontriez."

The old woman, who Theo now registers as Louise, allows herself to be turned around by Rose. Her eyes run over him from head to toe in what feels close to scrutiny. But, when her eyes land back on his face, she keeps her gaze on him, and leans closer to Rose, clearly speaking not speaking to him, "Est-ce le garçon dont vous me parliez?"

"Oui, Oui," Rose nods proudly—because she is proud of the man in front of her.

"Ah! Il est beau!" Louise says, closing the distance between her and Theo, and taking hold of his arms, seeming to inspect him with another wide smile before her head turns back toward Rose. "Parle Il français?"

"Oui. Mais il parle plus couramment l'italien." Rose says, "Il n'utilise pas souvent le français."

"Ah, ah," Louise turns back toward him, all too cheerful. Suddenly she is spewing Italian, "Mentre eri via, Rosalie parlava solo di 'Theodore!' 'Theodore!'!"

Theo relaxes to be able to fully understand her, instead of having to think twice about what she is saying, and he does not dare to call out the choppy Italian.

He only smiles down at the woman, a hint of cheek dancing in his eyes as he glances at a wide-eyed Rose. "Davvero adesso?" He says, the words and accent all too perfect on him. "Solo cose buone, spero."

Louise cheers, taking hold of his face. "Solo le cose più incredibili!" She says, "Tu parli perfettamente! Perfetto!"

Theo breaks into a laugh, shared by the woman, and he looks to Rose, amused by her crimson flushed face as she stares at him.

Rose shakes her head, smiling, and moves toward them. "Don't let her fool you, love." She says, "Louise speaks perfect English as well, tricked me the first time we met."

Theo raises his eyebrows, looking down to the woman in question, and Louise just pats on both of his cheeks.

"Playing tricks on you all keeps me young," Louise says, in sure enough incredible English, but her accent makes the words choppy. "Come now," Her eyes glint with youth as she pulls away, giving Theo's left hand a squeeze first. "Let us introduce you to the girls!"

Louise speeds away, moving quickly around them in another direction, and Rose slips her fingers into his own, spinning him around and dragging him after the woman.

They weave past a few more tables before entering a darkened corridor at the very back of the restaurant, struggling to keep up with how fast Louise is, and Theo slows down regardless, grinning at Rose like he has just won a prize.

"You've been talking about me a lot, huh?" He murmurs, tongue clicking. "So obsessed..."

She refuses to look at him, but her smile is bright, a smile she cannot hide.

"I hate you sometimes." She mutters.

A deep laugh, like the one from this morning, shakes his chest, and he pulls her closer before tossing his arm around her shoulders.

"It's cute, baby, really," He teases, "I imagine it's hard to not be obsessed with me."

She groans, but slips her arm around his waist. "Thank you for reminding me of how much of an insufferably cocky cunt you are, truly." The words finished with a sarcastic smile sent his way.

And he smirks right back, "Don't worry love, I won't let you forget."

Louise comes to halt at the end, while they are still catching up, and cracks open a door, flooding the corridor with a sliver of bright light, and all the chatter that at first once flowed out slowly dies as her head peaks in.

"Rosalie est maison!" Louise says into the room, "Et elle a amené le garçon avec elle!"

Theo hears his name like a bird's echo from different women and this time, his eyes are the ones to go wide as they halt behind Louise, looking down at Rose in shock.

"How many people did you tell me about me?"

Rose slowly begins slipping their limbs away from each other before leaning towards him with her own smirk. "Can't help it, it's hard like you said, to not be obsessed."

That is all Rose says before she gives him a rough shove forward. It all happens too quickly. Louise takes his arm, pulling him right into a bright room. Inside there are four other women, all as old and gray as Louise, but they are all in such contrasting styles, and there are cards all over the table, indicating he had just interrupted a game.

They don't seem to care though, quite the opposite actually. All at once he is getting surrounded by them, hearing French praises be shouted, and gossiping phrases, getting hugged so quickly and so many times that his head begins to spin.

And when it keeps going on, him being tugged in a million different directions, he looks over their heads with the most paralyzed expression, completely at a loss of what is happening, and finds Rose standing by Louise with the biggest smile on her face.

*

After holding open the front door for Rose, Theo began closing it behind himself and laughing, "Salazar, I cannot believe how many old lady friends you made in the two weeks I was gone. You really went to see them everyday?"

Rose hummed from her place in front of the tiny kitchen table, flipping through different pieces of mail that had been laid in a stack. Theo comes up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist.

"Sirius has been sending a lot of letters," He says, placing his chin down, attempting to see her reaction. "Maybe you should open one. Only if you feel like it though."

She gave no indication of even hearing him, but her brows were furrowed as she continued flipping through the different wax sealed letters. Until suddenly stopping, and Theo's eyes followed her own, finding messy cursive on the front of a singular sealed letter.

Remus J. Lupin

Rose tried not to show her hesitation, but it was written all over her face.

"Do you want me to leave you alone for a minute?" Theo asks.

"No." She says, her hand snapping down over his wrists, keeping him in place. After, her throat clears. "No, it's fine."

She tosses the other letters down, keeping hold of the one from Remus, and flips it around, not reaching for a knife to tear the wax seal, instead tearing it straight open with her nails.

Dear Rosalie,

I apologize for not reaching out more.

I have received your letters, and enjoy your correspondence about the oddities of this world we often find ourselves writing to one another about. Although, it would seem as of recent, that you do not wish to hear from me. I can put that down to me mentioning your father in my last letter. I am remorseful about that, it was not my place. I believe now is the time to also apologize for signing this letter with my name. I know you did not wish for your friends to find out about correspondence.

I must confess that it has taken me some time to work up the courage to write another letter after you ignored my last two. I never spoke of Sirius with the intention to hurt you, quite the opposite actually. My fears of hurting you were confirmed when you did not dare to meet my eye during the last Order meeting.

Truthfully, I am worried for you Rosalie. There are many stories and things you do not know of, many things I wish to convey to you one day and hopefully, they will make you understand why I have such interests with you. I do yearn for even a sliver of your life, if you'll have me. Your mother, Emilia, would have wanted that. Regardless of what others will tell you, she had a good heart, and an even better soul.

I cannot claim to be wise, but I do believe having an adult nearby could be of great use to you. It is sickening to see how the older ones you trust play games by tugging you around as if you are a tool, not a person. I almost forgot, I still have your copy of the Bell Jar. Although there are many annotations inside, there is one I know was highlighted by you.

'I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.'

I feel it too, Rosalie.

I urge you to meet with me alone, I will not bring your father. I swear it. But only if you feel inclined to do so, if not I will understand.

Sincerely,

R.J Lupin

p.s. Tell Theodore I did enjoy reading his annotations, I found them most profound regardless of the book being tattered with his writing in the corners. I believe it is time for a new copy though, I will have one reserved for you should we meet. If not, it will still be waiting, even years from now.

Rose felt her heart stutter as she folded the letter back up, pushing Theo's arms off of herself and placing the letter on the table. She goes to the bar, almost eerily calm, and picks up a random claw clip, twisting her hair back.

"I'm going to see Whitman."

"Wait," Theo says, staying still when she finishes pulling back her hair and turns around to face him with eyebrows raised. "He's still sleeping."

"And how would you know that?"

Theo stammers, he has never been good at lying when it comes to her.

She rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and preparing to step into the living room when her elbow is caught in his grip.

"Wait," Theo mutters. She looks at him and he looks away, unable to see her face when he says this. "He doesn't want to see you. He blames himself, you know? All that stuff, you know how Whit is. And...that was his boggart, Ro. His literal biggest fear happened."

"Theodore," She begins, warning him, "You have two seconds to let go of me before I knock you out."

"You wouldn't,"

"For Whit in this condition? Yes I will." She says before ripping her elbow away from him and walking with the utmost purpose. She weaves her way through the living room, down the corridor, and up the stairs. When her hand reaches for Whitman's doorknob, she does not hesitate, regardless of her shaky fingers. She has always been brave, but never when it comes to him.

The curtains are drawn over each window, and so are the beige ones around his bed. The numerous sconces are the only thing, with their dancing flames, that provide her light as she crosses over.

Her fingers pull at the slit between two curtains on the side of his bed. There she finds him, buried beneath blankets, his back to her as he lays on the pillows.

She knows he is awake, and he knows it is her that is standing there.

He hears the sound of heels being unbuckled.

He hears the sound of heels falling to the floor.

He feels the blankets be lifted.

He feels the mattress dip.

And then, he feels her body come up behind his, and even though he is way too big for this and she is not big enough in comparison, he feels her mold into his back side, her head settling a little higher than his on the pillows. He hears her sharp intake of air, and feels her hand sliding over his waist, and down across, fingers twisting in the thick jumper he wears.

This is not the first time they have laid this way. He can remember being thirteen and running out of the wizarding world, showing up at Grimmauld in the dead of the night, speaking the password until the buildings moved and revealed number twelve.

It was the worst rainstorm of the year.

He remembers climbing up onto her balcony, his hand knocking against the glass doors frantically as the wet clothes made him shiver. Those stupid curtains she had hung up, he remembers seeing them be pulled back an inch, only getting a glimpse of her eyes before the door was ripped open.

flashback

"Whit?" She said, her eyes trying to focus on him, "What're you doing out here? It's pouring rain... Get in, Get in"

His head shook, and when she tried grabbing into him, he flinched away.

"I–I shouldn't be here," He muttered, struggling to breathe.

"What're you talking about?" She said before taking a stronghold of his arm, pulling him into the contrastingly warm bedroom. He slipped away when she went to slide the door back in place, and when she turned around he was moving frantically. "Whit, what's going on? Did you come all the way from your manor?"

"This is the only place I could think of and I," He choked on a sob, his hands clutching at his chest, pleading for oxygen he didn't have.

The voice of Walburga Black floated through the home in the form of a yell.

"Rosalie! What is going on up there?!"

"Nothing!" Her voice cracked, "Sorry, grandmother!"

Whitman rubbed his hands down his face. "I have to leave, I need to just go—"

"Whit!" Rose whisper-yelled, catching his hand with her own tears threatening to break as he flinched again. She withdrew instantly. "Okay, okay. I won't touch you, I swear. Just stay, I'm begging you to stay. Stay with me, please."

He tried fighting her, but she blocked his path with every step he took, over and over again. The panic attack was too strong though, and she was too stubborn for her own good, and he ended up cornered; sinking to the floor in front of her bed, and she sank down with him.

He hugged his knees, burying his face down in shame.

And he sobbed, and sobbed.

Muttering words of, "You have no idea what they did...I can't..."

"You're safe now, I promise." Her voice was the calm in his midst of panic, as it always has been. "They aren't here and they can't come get you either. Okay? You have to breathe for me though, just one breath."

He lifted his head with a wobbly inhale, and found himself reaching for her hand without thought. He saw the tears in her eyes but he knew she would not let them fall. She gave him a proud nod, internally begging him to try again, and placed her other hand on his cheek, heart breaking even more when his sobs didn't stop.

"I love you so much." She murmured. "We don't have to talk about what happened right now, and you never have to go back there ever again. Okay? You can stay with me."

He had managed to push out, "I...can't stay here. They won't allow it and I, I just have to go—somewhere, far."

"Yes you can." She moved closer, pushing his tears away with her thumbs. "You can, Whit. And if you can't, I'll go far away with you. I'll go anywhere in this world with you, fade into oblivion and hide if we must, but you are never going back. Understand? I won't allow it."

She had been fierce with her words, unrelenting, and again; too stubborn.

She meant every word though.

He sobbed again, letting every piece of his mind break as he threw himself into her chest. She held him tight, her lips pressing down on his wet hair.

'I love you, I love you, I love you,' was her chant right then, the one he needed.

And eventually she said, "Let's get you into some dry clothes, okay? We can go slow, I'll change you."

That had made him clutch on tighter and tighter, until she was forcing him to lean against the bed frame, his hands still digging into her sides.

He begged, pleaded for her to not lift up his hoodie, so many times it became a war before she began tugging on the material and immediately stopped, her hand flying over her mouth.

She visibly swallowed a lump and yelled, "Grandmother!"

Whitman instantly began trying to stand up, but all too weak, "No, no, no!"

Rose had taken hold of his face, shushing him over and over.

Walburga Black appeared in the bedroom within a minute. Her eyes had snapped down onto Whitman, and then onto Rose's bloody fingers, before meeting her granddaughter's own eyes overtop of his cries. The pair shared one nod, one singular nod before the woman straightened up and yelled for Kreacher, instructing the elf to gather healing potions.

Even then, Walburga and Rose seemed to speak into the other's mind, sharing secrets and knowledge no one else knew of.

"I'll get Orion and we will handle this." Walburga said, a moment where she showed her steel heart. "You get him healed, Rosalie. Remember what I taught you."

And the Grandmother disappeared at once.

Right after, Kreacher rushed over, his arms full of bandages and potions. Rose had soothed Whitman's face, knowing she could not make the tears stop, and reached for the hem of his hoodie, beginning to pull it up.

His shattered voice stopped her when the material had barely risen up his waist.

"I couldn't Ro...I just couldn't take it anymore..."

"I know, I know. You don't have to deal with it anymore." She breathed out, pausing to press her lips to his forehead and take hold of his cheeks. Then she laid her forehead against his, making a sacred vow, "I'm going to heal you, and then I am never letting anyone hurt you again. I swear it."

end of flashback

She never did allow a single soul to put a hand to him after that day.

He remembers, even now, how after all was said and done, that night she helped him into her bed, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Holding onto him like he was a small child even though he was anything but.

This close, he can feel every beat of her heart as her cold breath fans across his neck.

"We don't have to talk about it right now." She mutters, "I'll just be here with you."

Deja Vu.

He does not think he could manage to talk about it anyways. His throat is tight, and he can feel the sob lodged in his throat. Fine, he thinks, let us play pretend, be actors as if our whole world is not crumbling.

At first, he does not dare to touch her, or move an inch, staring into oblivion as he listens carefully to her steady breath's; a reminder that he did not kill her, he did not rip the life out of the woman he loves. He cannot remember anything that happened after feeling each of his bones break, but the memory of waking up with the worst pain from not only the full moon and the Cruciatus Curse, but the look on Theo's face, is too much.

He does not want to remember how it felt to hear what he had done.

But he cannot escape it, because his heart is still dropped, and he is still nauseous, covered in so much self-loathing that it is inescapable. Whitman has not felt anywhere close to normal since finding out that she laid in the room across from him, unconscious, and that it had taken Theo casting the Cruciatus Curse to save her life, to make his wolf's need to kill stop—his wolf's need to kill her. It had been his biggest fear come to life, like he always knew it would.

In the end, it is better that she hates him. He was selfish to want her love, or anything out of this world, when he is nothing but a beast at his core.

It rottens his inside to think, and all he wants is to make it all go away; be a different person who did not have to live with this curse.

And even if he hadn't almost killed her, he would have marked her in scars, ugly scars that he has always had to live with.

She used to make those marks feel beautiful on him, but he does not think that will ever happen again.

But there is a voice in the back of his mind, screaming about why in the world she would come lay next to him after what he has done to her. The voice screams that she should stop, she should see him for the monster he truly is.

Only now does he register the tears streaming down his face, his jaw locked tight enough to break, his shallow breathing, because it is her fingers tightening around the material across his chest that makes him realize.

His body takes control, flipping over, coming face to face with her solemn features. Her arm stays around him, drawing him closer, and as if nothing is wrong, she places her legs over his waist, refusing him an escape away.

He forces the new tears to stay in the shaking waterline. He will not let them loose.

Her voice comes quietly, "I cannot imagine how you feel, but I want you to know I forgive you for the attack and it was not your fault, no matter what your brain is trying to trick you into believing."

Whitman stares at her with a distant gaze, like a corpse of himself, and he does not care that the tears fall out all too quickly; deep down, he knew they would break loose as soon as she started speaking.

Here she is untouched, no disgust in her gaze, and breathing—breathing; that is the most important part.

"I know you don't remember, but I'll tell you exactly what happened." She begins, softly, "I heard the door be torn off, I was standing at the top, just outside the doors, on the grass. I felt you come up behind me and then you knocked me to the ground, and I did think you were going to kill me. I wasn't blaming you, even then. But you came over top of me, and I realize now, only snapping your jaws when I seemed scared, as if offended. Theo came because of a vision and I jumped up as you got off to see who arrived, but as I tried reaching him, you came in between us, not to attack me or him, but you kept knocking me back and then you were standing in front of me, as if trying to keep Theo away. Only when Theo pulled out his wand did you try attacking him, and I threw myself in front of him willingly. You were trying to protect me, for whatever reason. I'm sure you would have jumped right off of me if Theo had given you time to get those claws out."

He pushes down the sound of a sob, but the tears come more profusely, his lips trembling.

"It is not your fault." She whispers, leaning closer, "You are not to blame."

Her fingers come up, surprising him, and she takes hold of his face, her thumbs beginning to wipe away the tears. The tears do not stop and her fingers don't either, continuing to push away each and every one.

And every part of her becomes all too aware of how close they are. Without thinking another thought, she presses her lips to his; softly and innocently, trying to communicate the words she cannot; saying that he is not a monster in her eyes, nor will he ever be.

Her lips against his own is an achingly familiar feeling. She goes to pull away after only a moment, but he stops her, his hand sliding onto the side of her neck, drawing her in, deeper, and closer. She doesn't dare to stop him, because she is not thinking at all.

The world tilts them a little bit closer, his fingers slide into her hair, and it is slow and desperate, a plea for her to understand how sorry he is.

But it is as well a painful reminder of how perfectly his mouth fits against her own, of how lost she can get in the feeling of her lips going numb after touching what they had yearned for.

She is not the one to pull away though.

It is him who pulls back, as if remembering why he will not allow himself this. And reality comes crashing down onto Rose all at once. She carefully removes his hands from herself, and sits up, her head shaking, because although she feels bad about the attack, she is not ready to forgive him for Orion, and does not know if she ever will.

Touching him, kissing him, feeling lightheaded from the simplest of brushes will only worsen how much everything hurts for them both.

She is quick to get out of the bed, prepared to leave after bending down to pick up her shoes, but his hand wraps around her wrist, and she flinches away; unsuspecting the sudden grab.

Whitman releases her at once, afraid he will throw up from the daunting realization he has. She is scared of him, he thinks, scared of him because of the attack, because of the manner in which he killed Orion. These are false thoughts, but he does not know it, and he cannot bear a world where he is the one making her flinch.

This time, he lets her walk away, but he makes sure not to watch as she goes.

*

They are the only ones on the Hogwarts express, the train being sent to pick up the group of five. They still sit in their usual cart, already speeding through the forest of Cambridge. Jade is curled up on the bench, her head surprisingly in Blaise's lap. Rose is sprawled across Draco and Theo, a magazine in her hands. The window is cracked open, Whitman standing beside it, a joint in his hands.

"Salazar sake, Whit." Theo mutters, "That's your third time smoking today, and it's barely dinner."

Whitman ignores him, taking a long inhale as he looks at the blur of forest green outside.

Draco stops his ministrations in Rose's hair, earning a scowl sent his way before he looks up. "Whit," He calls, "Might wanna be careful, Snape will have a fit if you're high."

"Why dont both of you shut the fuck up?" He says, turning around to pass the joint to Blaise; who waves him off. Zabini is many things, but he will not blow that smoke anywhere near Jade.

Theo and Draco don't respond. Whitman has dealt with their moods on many occasions, they deal with his as well.

Out of the blue, Rose gasps, drawing all of their eyes in a worried manner. "Celestina Warbeck has another boyfriend! My idol is back!"

"Fuck sake," Draco mutters, sliding his fingers into her hair a little too roughly. "I thought someone died..."

"Ow!" She scolds, tilting her head up at him.

He shoots her an apologetic smile, "Sorry love,"

Whitman only takes another inhale.

When they arrive at the school, there is a pause outside of the noisy Great Hall. They are used to making dramatic entrances, but it does not make it any less humorous to them all. Heads turn, whispers break out, all while Dumbledore shoots them a smile and raises his goblet.

They move without a care, and when they are reaching the Slytherin table, Luna Lovegood comes running from the top end of the Ravenclaw table, her platinum hair bouncing.

Blaise half expects her to run straight to him, but she does not. Rose takes a step away from the group and Luna throws herself into the Black's arms, cheering carelessly as Rose spins them around, neither bothered by the scene they make. The boys share a look while sitting down at the end of the table, and even Whitmna has a slight twitch to his lips for a moment, each of them remembering how happy the two girls are together.

"I missed you! I missed you!" Luna chants, right before Rose sets her down and takes hold of her face.

"I missed you more," Rose whispers, a giddy giggle coming out. She feels eyes on her though, from the professors table, and finds Madam Umbridge staring distastefully their way. "Ew..." Rose mutters, pulling Luna toward the table. She planned to sit with Luna, but is instead pulled in between Theo and Draco, while Blaise stands, yanking Luna down into the seat on the end, beside himself.

"These boys," Luna lets out a frustrated huff, leaning on the table toward Rose, "Dramatic."

"I know," Rose laughs before turning to find Umbridge still staring. "Gods," She suddenly spat, "I forgot that old hag was here, I can barely remember her."

Luna shrugs. "Well, you were very high..."

Blaise and Draco speak in sync, "Luna!"

Rose chokes on a laugh, and Luna laughs along.

"Who is she?" Theo says, a grimace on his face when he spots the new professor.

"New DADA professor," Draco informs, "If you're lucky, Rosie will get you out of the class, she didn't go once."

"Don't worry, Teddy." Rose lifts her chin, winking at him. "I already talked to Snape, you are both going to help me with his third years during her class."

"Oh wow," Theo deadpans, sliding his arm around her waist. "My savior from the pink puffball."

Rose sighs dreamily, "I know, I'm like one of those muggle gods—always saving you a lot."

"Should we call you Jesus?" Draco wonders, and Rose's hand finds his own, nodding encouragingly until he is rolling his eyes with an annoying but charming smile.

All of the sudden, Luna bangs her hand down on the table, garnering each of their eyes in question. "Sorry..." She says, "I wanted to try it like you all do."

"That's not how it works, Loony." Draco heavily sighs. "You must be mad when you do it, adds to the dramatic effect, yeah?"

"Good tips, I'll remember that next time I find Blasie sticking his tongue down a ginger's throat." Luna smiles, her eyes switching toward Theo while Blaise chokes on air. "Theo?"

"Yes...?"

"Have you thanked your girlfriend?" She asks, voice lowering to a whisper, "Rose told me what she did...all those guards, for you? I would be thanking her, that's for sure."

Theo looks down at Rose as she slumps into his side, eyes going wide. "You told her? Are you mad?"

"I'm not one to judge," Luna says, "I could've have only hoped Blaise would have done that for me when we were together."

Blaise raises his eyebrows. "Is that your way of saying you'll give me another chance?"

"Maybe." Luna shrugs. "If you work hard enough." She props her head up, looking over at him. "You're like a rodent in my brain that won't go away—" She turns to Rose. "Isn't that the metaphor we made up for him?"

"Yes, exactly!" Rose claps before making it look like her pointer fingers are fighting. "He is the rodent in your brain, and Draco and Theo are like two little mice in my head! Never going away!"

Blaise blinks. "Did you...did you tell Luna to compare me to a rodent?"

Theo and Draco share a brief look over Rose's head, communicating how they are in half-disbelief at the degrading metaphor, but also an agreement that they are happy Rose has someone to understand her oddities and off-putting nature, as silly as the conversation might be.

Merlin knows she did not have that before with the other friends she had made at Hogwarts.

After a conversation filled dinner, the group, with a plus one, was making their way back to the dorm. They were nearing the Dungeons, about to go down, when a throat cleared from behind them. Each of them stop, looking back at an older woman in bright pink from head-to-toe.

"Miss Black," Umbridge spoke, entirely too chipper. "A word, in my office."

The group seems to move as a whole, all stepping towards the woman.

"Excuse you," Umbridge pipes up, holding a hand in the air. "Only Miss Black."

Theo shoots a disgusted look at the professor while Draco leans into Rose's ear, whispering, "Me and Theo will hold back for a moment so she doesn't see us following and then go, wait outside for you."

Rose switches her eyes toward Theo, getting an affirmative nod. "Okay." She mutters, and Umbridge starts clearing her throat again.

"I'm coming!" Rose snaps, stepping straight to the woman who smiles delightedly. She is led down the hall, up toward the DADA classroom, but instead taken into an horrible office that reeks of lavender overdone.

The walls are bright pink, dessert plates hung all over with pictures of moving cats on top. Rose stands in the doorway, hovering, her eyes wide and face full of horror. This feels like the entryway to death, a trap set in place by some insane person out of the scary films.

Umbridge slams the door in place, brushing her way past Rose. "Have a seat, Miss Black." She gestures to the two wooden chairs in front of her widely decorated desk. "Now, would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you though." Rose mutters, reluctantly brushing off the seat cushion before sitting down. Regardless of her answer, Umbridge sets a boiling cup of tea infront of her, the cup glistening white with ceramic pink lace across.

Rose pushes the cup away, ignoring the displeased sound from Umbridge as the professor sits behind the desk, across from her.

They share a drawn out look; Umbridge's being full of curiosity, and Rose's full of confusion.

After a moment, Umbridge smiles tightly. "So...Dumbeldore told me you were gone for rehab? How was that?"

"Uh," Rose blinks at the woman. "Well, it is rehab. Not much fun to it."

"Interesting!" Umbridge pipes up, her hands locking together on the desk. "And those boys? They decided to miss school with you?"

"We are quite close."

"Yes, I am well aware." Umbridge says, "So much so that you took to embarrassing the Minister at a murder trial for one of them. Which one was it? Mister Nott? That is your boyfriend, correct? Or is it the Malfoy? Or Mister Zabini that you find yourself with—"

"Are you really so bored that you're asking a teenage girl about her love life?" Rose interrupts, not sassily, but with a grimace of disgust. "But...if you really want to know..."

Umbridge cocks a thin eyebrow. "Yes?"

"It's all of them actually." Rose throws her hands up with a faked sigh. "Every. Single. One." She says, making a ball with her hands, "We just all lay down in one big bed and go at it like a group of—"

"Miss Black!" Umbridge shouts, clutching at her chest. "How dare you speak so vulgarly to me?!"

"You quite literally asked me."

After recovering, Umbridge's eyes narrowed into slits. "I see through you."

Rose busts out into a sudden laugh. "Do you now?"

Umbridge nods, so sure of herself. "It would be a shame, wouldn't it? If the world knew what you went away for? The Prophet said many things about you over the years, but they have not found out about the rehab yet..."

"Well..." Rose leans back into the seat, legs crossed. "Go tell Rita, and make sure she puts a good picture next to the headline."

"Don't worry, I've already spread the word."

Rose has no reaction, only nodding boredly.

"You poor child, we both know it must upset you. Girls like you always care so much about what others see." Umbridge speaks sympathetically, "Top of your class, desperate for attention anywhere you can get it, all those hospital visits—what is it they say you have? Anorexia?...Yes! That is it! Merlin, and always latching onto Dumbledore and Severus, grasping at the idea a grown man could love you...you truly are pitiful."

"Would you like me to cry?" Rose deadpans before leaning forward. "Because I can assure you that's not going to happen. You see, I won't get angry either. My therapist—well, I haven't been to see her in a while—but still. She told me a lot of things about people like you." Her hands clasp together, a bright smile forming. "But do you want to know what is pitiful? Okay, don't answer that. It's the fact my grandmother embarrassed you at a ministry ball all those years ago because she said your dress made her eyes bleed, and now you've what? Kept tabs on her eighteen year old granddaughter? Do I have a fan? Are there clippings of the Prophet pictures hanging inside your home?"

Umbridge looks taken back, but a snarl rests on her lips.

"Anyways!" Rose giggles, leaning right back into the seat. "I don't blame you, I guess. S'pose sleeping with that old Minister gets boring, you need to hear a little spice every once and while to keep you youthful. Not to mention, competing with all the women our whore of a Minister sleeps with...."

She hears Umbrideg stop breathing.

"Oh yes!" Rose cheers, "My grandmother told me about that as well!" After, she sighs up to the ceiling. "Walburga Black, may you live on as the most legendary gossip of your time."

Umbridge rises up without thinking and pulls out her wand, but Rose clicks her tongue without looking. The Black raises her hand before pulling it into a fist, making the wand fly across the room and clatter to the ground.

Out of anger, Umbridge begins charging around the desk, getting stopped by Rose's head snapping toward her for some odd reason.

The Black clicks her tongue, wagging her finger in reprimand. "No, no, no." She says, leaning forward in her chair, eyes ablaze. "Bad Umbridge!" She scolds, as if the woman is a child. "I am quite testy these days."

"Miss Black, I will—!"

Rose flicks her hand, a blue light jutting out into the woman's chest. Umbridge's eyes widen, body locks up, and then she falls, stiff as a board, onto the floor.

"Oops!" Rose jumps up onto her feet, beginning to hum to herself as she makes her way toward the door. Giving the handle a dramatic tug, the door flies open, Theo and Draco almost falling in after spending so much time trying to listen in with their ears pressed up against the wood. They quickly try to recover, making Rose snort to herself before she comes to block their path. "Are you ready for this?" She says, giving them no time to respond before gesturing beside herself theatrically. "Dun dun dun!"

Draco takes one look at the passed out woman and slams the door shut. Breathing out, "Dear Merlin..."

Theo's eyes move fast between the professor and Rose's cheerful face, "Did you stun a ministry official?"

Her face falls, arms crossing sassily in his direction. "She's been hurting the kids, Luna told me. And, she called me pitiful, Theodore." Rose pauses, thoughtful. "Oh! And she called me a whore—" She holds up a singular finger of protest. "I only like that name in the bedroom, thank you very much!"

Draco's mouth falls open, and he brings his pointer finger and thumb over his eyes, muttering, "Oh Rosie..."

Theo blinks at her, his hand coming up to rub at his jaw, as if he cannot decide what to do with Rose.

"Are you about to yell at me?" Rose asks, putting on her most innocent face for Theo.

His lips, ever so slowly, curve up. "No," Theo shakes his head. "Good job, baby,"

She instantly smiles, bringing her hands together in a small clap.

"Theo!" Draco scolds, hands flying up. "Do not encourage her to stun professors!"

"Dracoooo," Rose groans, turning toward him. "What would you have done if she would have said those things about me to you, huh?"

His arms cross and he looks up at the ceiling in thought. "Well...my anger would have taken control...a crucio might have slipped out..." He says this with brows furrowed, but after he looks down at her, a smile peaking out.

"Exactly!" She grins, pulling his hands into her own, "Come on, baby, take a walk on the dark side...be a bad student...took Theo a few years to get on board."

Allowing her to pull him, Draco raises both brows. "Did you just...baby me?"

"Mhm," She hums, "Blame Theo, he's rubbing off on me."

Draco rolls his eyes with a head shake, pulling her in and slipping his arm around her neck, all before turning her around as they come to stand next to Theo; who had been lost with a grimace on his face aimed toward Umbridge.

"I don't know what we are going to do about this..." Theo mutters.

"That's why I'm here, silly." Rose says, head tilting. "We'll Imperio her. Make sure she doesnt report anything about Hogwarts to the ministry, or hurt any other students with her fucked up blood quills, and make sure she stops hanging up rules."

"Will it be strong enough?" Theo wonders, "It is usually only well done when the wand is constantly pointed at the victim."

"Rules, rules, rules...we must forget them." Rose repeats the Dark Lord's words unknowingly. "It is not impossible, but hard. Either way, you forget who your girlfriend is."

Theo's face brightens up as he lifts his head, smirking at her like the devil freed. "I could never forget."

"But it is an unforgivable," Draco speaks up, staring down at the frozen-still body. "The Ministry will know—" He stops himself, grinning at Rose like a madman. "Spells are only detectable by the ministry with a wand."

Rose almost squeaks with excitement. Instead though, her hands come up to cover her face.

Draco pulls her closer, "What is it?"

She tears her hands down, gesturing wildly. "I love when you guys quote me!"

Theo tips his head back with laughter, and says, "You're a mess, Black."

"She truly is..." Draco adds on, his own laughter coming out.

*

Two weeks back at school and everything was blissful, for the most part.

Two boys in particular did not enjoy sharing their girlfriend's time with a man named Adrian Pucey.

The lights above the common room were set to the flash, annoyingly so. Chatter was everywhere, music blaring loud every to make the voices sound like quieted whispers, and intoxicated fools kept bumping into one another. Rose had been acting weird, scared to touch any bottle of alcohol on the drinks table. She did not want to explain why, but every time she reached for a bottle, her mind reminded her of the last time she had gotten a drink at a party. This resulted in her putting the different bottles down each time she dared to pick one up.

The others were not blind to this, and knew why.

Theodore Nott took it upon himself to make her feel better, forcing her to watch him take a test shot out of every bottle she felt inclined to touch. Although this warmed her heart, and made her giggle every time, he is now beyond drunk.

He was dancing right in front of her, as she leaned against the drinks table, Blaise next to him; Zabini close to being just as drunk and moving his body around almost as wildly. Rose was giggling, covering her mouth as she leaned into the arm Draco had around her.

Draco, on the other hand, was staring at his two best friends, mortified in every way at the drunken dancing happening so close to him.

Rose looked away for a moment, sensing someone nearing, and found Adrian. He stopped when he saw what was happening in front of her, and instantly began turning around. She choked on a laugh, yelling after him, "Adrian! Come back!"

Theo did not stop dancing as he reached for Rose's hands, breathing out, "Dance with me,"

Her eyes closed from giggling so much, purposely intertwining their fingers to provide him balance. "Okay, but—" She is cut off by him tumbling right up against her chest, her hands shooting out to grab onto him. "Okay, let's get you in bed, yeah?"

"Bed..." Theo muttered, a big smile on his lips as she takes hold of his face. "That sounds real nice, baby."

"Yeah?" She laughs, nodding at him encouragingly while slipping her arm around his waist, and then guiding his own arm over her shoulders. Draco goes to help her, but stops at her voice. "No, it's okay. You keep an eye on Blaise."

"Draco!" Blaise cheers, throwing himself into the boy. Draco catches him with a grunt, his head shaking at the smiling boy.

"Yeah, I better do that."

Rose shoots Draco a wink before beginning to pull Theo away. They only make it a few feet before Theo is calling over his shoulder, "Bye Blaise!"

"Bye Theodore!" Blaise shouts back, making both the 'guardians' that had been assigned to them chuckle.

When they first step onto the stairs, Rose faces major difficulties while trying to walk, forced to grab onto the handrail, and go slow—so very slow. Theo is too busy grinning like a fool, his head wobbling around as she makes each step with a grunt.

"You've been happy, love..." He slurs out.

A small laugh leaves her at that. "I know,"

He hums and brings a finger to tap on her nose. She stops, blinking up at him. "I love it!" He shouts, oblivious as ever to the fact he just bopped her nose like it was some toy.

With much effort, and a lot of Theo rambling, they make it up to their dorm door. Rose has to kick it open, and almost collapses from carrying him for long, but Theo forces her to a stop in the doorway, leaning his back against the framing, and she has to grab onto his arms to keep him upright.

"Baby, baby," He slurs, "Did I tell you how much I love you? How beautiful you are?"

"Yes, Theodore." She breathes out, "The whole way up here. Repeatedly."

His face falls. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," She laughs, slipping her arm right back around his waist and pulling him inside. "Let's get you changed." She says, kicking the door in place.

"I want to sleep in your bed, Miss Ro..." He groans.

"That's exactly where I'm taking you, love." She patiently says, before forcing him down onto the side of her mattress. He almost topples over as her hands let go, but in an instant she is kneeled in front of him, holding him upright. Jade jumps up next to Theo, sitting down with a tilted head. "He's okay Jade," Rose muses, "Just drunk."

Theo reaches for the dog, missing every time. "Papa is alright, Jade." He assures, voice laced with false confidence.

Rose shakes her head with another laugh before standing back up and pulling his shirt off over his head. Theo holds his hands up, chest shaking with his own laughter.

"Could've just asked baby," He says, causing her to put her hands on her hips and stare down at him at the audacity of the man before her.

Theo simply shoots her a wink.

"Merlin help me..." She mutters, leaning over him to unbuckle his pants. Theo begins making a million flirtatious, borderline scandalous, comments as she pulls the pants off of him, and although Rose tries to stay serious she fails; giggling the whole time.

Upon finishing she halts, looking down at the boy using his hands to keep himself up. "Do you want clothes to sleep in or are you good like this?"

"No...I'm good like this," He slurs, "I'll be like a werewolf and keep you warm with my body heat." He wiggles his eyebrows at the end, and she laughs, covering her face up.

"You think I'm funny?" He says, reaching for her and suddenly—pulling her right down into the bed. She yelps, twisting away so her shoes don't get on the blankets.

"Theo!" She giggles before sitting up straight and tugging him up the bed with her.

"No, no, noooooo...."

"I'm just putting you under the covers." She tells him, and it is enough to make him go quiet until his entire body is being tucked in.

He sighs while she does so. "I thought you were leaving me..." He mutters, his half-lidded eyes staying on her as she keeps tightly tucking the blankets around his body. After she finishes, Rose leans her back against the headboard, feet kicked off the edge. Meanwhile, Theo hums happily. "Every time you do this it's like uh...feels like a cocoon."

"Really now?"

"Mhm." He murmurs, slinging an arm over her lap.

There is a peaceful silence that passes, muffled music and voices floating from downstairs, and Rose feels that ache in her heart as she looks down at him, the one that makes this all feel beautifully unreal, and she pushes the curls out of his face lovingly.

He subconsciously inches closer to her touch, as he always has, and she smiles down at him, bringing his hand up, and presses her lips to the rough skin over his knuckles.

"You know what I just remembered?" He murmurs.

"Tell me,"

"Do you remember that night we were both so drunk that when you helped me change," He pauses, laughter bubbling up. "And you, you accidentally put one of your crop tops on me?"

Abrupt laughter spills from her chest. "Merlin!" She says, "We didn't even realize what I had done until the morning!"

He smiles so big at her that his cheeks ache, his head shaking. "Pretty sure my circulation was cut off this next morning,"

"Oh Teddy," She laughs.

"I love you." He blurts out.

The sound dies in her lungs, and she pushes her hand through his hair. "I know. I love you."

"I know. Good." He says, eyes falling shut, his arm squeezing around her legs. "I'm glad you can accept that now."

It is a comment meant with joy, a drunken comment as well. But it makes her eyes open a little wider, her lungs constrict.

Because it cuts deep.

She hated when people told her she was stupid for not seeing that someone loved her in the past. It wasn't that she was ignorant, she had eyes and was beyond intelligent. But Rose struggled, very deeply, to accept that someone could love her. That is why it took her so long to realize many things, the idea of seeing love another held for her was hard, especially with Walburga Black's voice always looming in the back of her mind.

But Theo and Draco had forced her to realize, to accept a love she never thought herself deserving of. And she had forced the same onto them, making the both of them accept a love more powerful than any magic.

She no longer looks in the mirror and hates the person looking back at her. In fact, she loves her a good bit. And when she thinks to her sixteen, or seventeen, year old self, she wants nothing more than to go back in time and hug that girl. Tell that girl that it will all be okay, and that she is loved, protected, and every storm will eventually pass; no matter how rough.

But she is not happy like she should be.

She cannot even think about Whitman, much less look at him, without feeling the entire world fall out from under her.

Whether it was ten minutes later, or thirty, when Rose looks down at Theo he is snoring, a slight twitch on his lips. Her heart is full, overwhelmingly so, and she carefully untangles herself from him before pressing her lips to his head and whispering a command for Jade to lay in her place.

When she closes the dorm door behind herself, she mutters an enhancement so it is impossible for any to get in, and finds her feet carrying her to the end on the steps—stopping a few steps up though, smiling at Draco as he stands on the last stair.

The music doesn't sound so loud with her eyes on him.

"I put an enhancement on the door," She says, her voice carrying. "So no one can go try to mess with him while he's passed out. You know the creeps at this school, can never be too safe."

"Why would anyone go—" Draco stops himself, the pieces clicking. He nods, wavering her down. "Come here."

She closes the distance with a sigh, her arms slipping around his waist. "I'm being a little neurotic, I think." She says, her words muffled against his chest.

"No you are not." He swears, smiling down gently at her as she looks up at him.

"Thank you," She says, genuinely, "I'm going to go get some air though."

"Yeah?" His hand moves onto her cheek. "I'll come with you."

She shakes her head. "No, you keep an eye on Blaise. He quite literally cannot be left unsupervised while drunk—remember when he slept with Graham?"

He goes to protest, but as she looks over his shoulder her eyes go wide, stopping him.

"Draco..." She mutters, "Blaise is on the table again."

He sighs up to the ceiling, heavily so, before turning around and finding Blaise dancing atop the table used for school work; moving wildly as ever. "Let me go handle him and then I'll go with you. "

"I'll be okay, Draco." She promises, "I haven't drank anything or smoked. I can protect myself too, you know."

He sighs, again, looking down at her. "I know you can." He says, tilting up her chin, and bringing their lips together all too passionately for the public eye.

Rose has to be the one to pull away, despite how hard it is, slipping from him before he can stop her.

But on her way out, navigating through the sweaty bodies and clouds of smoke, she hears Draco yell, "Blaise Zabini! You get down from there right now!"

She pauses by the portrait, looking at the table that Blaise freezes on top of.

"No!" He shouts back. "You'll never take me alive!"

"You'll break your ankle again!" Draco yells, pushing through people without a care for their wellbeing. Blaise stares at him with a mischievous smile, but the minute Draco gets close, Blair yelps, jumping off the table and disappearing in the crowd.

Rose shakes her head, smiling as she walks out into the dark corridors of the Dungeons.

*

She finds herself, in the dark of the night, walking from the top of the grassy hill that leads to the Black Lake. The early weeks of November hold a brisk chill. She hugs the leather jacket she has on tighter around her limbs, reminding herself to cast a warming charm when she gets to the water.

Only halfway down the hill, she stops. Pulling out the metal cigarette case Draco gifted her, and taking her a moment to cup a hand around the rolled paper, lighting the end with her finger. She clicks the case shut, and shoves it carelessly into the deep pocket of her jacket before continuing down.

The bench, the ridiculously long one that Mcgongall had placed by the waters edge last fall, that is where she will go.

But her boots skid to a stop when she finds someone sitting on the far right side. If the tug in her chest was not enough, she knows it is Whitman by the unruly hair.

She pinches the cigarette out with her fingers, carelessly tossing the half-smoked paper into her pocket. Her mind tells her to turn around, get out of there as fast as possible.

But in the end, Rose is left cursing herself as her feet carry her over. She takes extra measure to sit on the end opposite of him. She finds him there, his gaze fixated far away, his elbows on his knees as he smokes on another joint. The thick beige coat over his jumper makes her ill, reminding her of last winter when she had stolen it from him, and part of her hopes, prays, that the smell of her perfume still lingers somehow on the material.

She wishes him to be as haunted as she is.

She wants him to be ill as much as she is everytime he catches her eye, or he sees her walk by, or he hears her laughter in the distance, or even when he hears her name—she yearns for it to feel like a knife lodged inside his gut.

Her tongue wants to spill the scold, tell him the amount of pot he smokes is getting out of hand. Frankly, she cannot name a time of day that his eyes are not painted with crimson veins. He has shut her out though, since the attack, he has pushed her away, avoided her just as she has left him behind.

She might have sat on the bench, but there is a gaping hole between them; physically and metaphorically.

The joint paper crackles along with the howl of the wind, and Rose tells herself to look away, forced to purse her lips before she gains the ability. At that very moment, he looks at her.

"I don't understand," He says.

Her gaze stays on the lake ahead.

"I know you don't." She says, nervously pulling at her sleeve.

Neither of them know why they are pretending this is nothing, no big deal. Whitman is different from the others. Her and Whitman, they are different from the others. Their bond is different. Rose is not sure she has ever felt pain matched to this, and there is a hole in her heart where he should be. There are no words to truly describe it, what they are both feeling. Her throat burns with the urge to scream at him until he admits that this is all killing him just as much.

It is almost as if they are in a contest, fighting to see who can care less. She is sick of the silence, and she is sick of the ache that has not gone away.

Her eyes drift over to the side of his face, taking a deep breath as she watches him take another hit. She has learned many lessons, but not enough it would seem. The universe continues to throw tornados in her path. One thing she knows for sure though, is that she does not like this. She misses him, in every way a human can be missed, and she hates that they are not one. She misses him being on her side, always looking to her right and finding him there.

There are worlds apart now.

Doomed to repeat history.

The joint is still burning as he meets her eye, and mutters, "I never wanted to lose you."

"You're already losing me." She says, driving the knife into his heart.

Time stops, there is only them, staring back at one another with the window circling around. He has loved her his whole life. Every memory he has is with her. He does not know where to go without her. He does not know how to breathe without her. He does not know how to forget her name. He wants to say these things, but they are stuck right now, looking into one another's eyes, a million different memories playing in their minds at the same time.

I am afraid, she wants to say, I am afraid that I will love you forever and I will never be free from these shackles.

But she does not.

The memories keep coming, and they keep staring at one another. Silence between two people has never been this deafening. There are so many unsaid things, and Rose is sure that her ears will never stop ringing.

Truthfully, she thinks the silence is louder than any scream that could rip out of someone's throat.

She feels a tear fall, and that is what does it for her. She forces her eyes away, wiping the stream of water away before standing up. Her hands dig into the leather pockets, waiting a moment. Begging him to say something, do anything to make her forget.

In the end, she leaves, and she takes his heart with her.

Minerva Mcgonagall does not expect to open her bed chambers door and find Rosalie Black there at midnight. But, she brings the girl inside and sits her on the end of the bed. Then wraps a blanket around her shoulders. The professor holds Rose while she sobs, hand clutching at her chest, throat burning, as if her heart had shattered on the floor.

Mcgonagall does not know if she has ever cried for another's pain by simply witnessing it, but that night—she did. Mcgonagall cried and cried, holding her arms tight around the young girl's body, allowing Rose to curl up against her and break into a million different pieces.

There is nothing quite like seeing someone who never dares to weep turn into a shipwreck lost at shore.

*

Remus Lupin sits in a small, sort of rundown, bar in East London—the wizarding version. The wooden booth is large, and his attention is taken with the witches passing by in fall colored robes. The bell above the door dings, snatching his attention straight ahead. He recognizes the first boy that comes in, Blaise Zabini, a pompous look on his face as he hangs up his scarf.

Next is Theodore Nott, with Rose tucked under his arm. Remus sees her fuss over the two boys before dramatically rolling her eyes at their laughter, allowing the Nott boy to pull off the fur coat she wore and hang it up on the rack. She gives both boys a shove, and the pair goes laughing over to the bar in the back.

Her eyes scan around the bar before landing on him, and she smiles; not in a mischievous way, but genuinely and innocently. No malice. She holds up a finger, and Remus nods back.

Not even two minutes later, he looks up to find her sliding a bottle of beer on the table, adjusting the collar of her leather jacket that gives him deja vu before she sits across from him.

"Sorry about them," Rose says, "I told them not to come but Draco took our other friend to see some tourney and they wanted me to take them to some gallery after this since I refused to go to the tourney."

Remus looks over at the two boys now sitting at the bar, their conversation flowing fluidly as they grasp onto two beers. "I don't mind," He says, "I think it's good they care about you."

"Almost too much sometimes," She jokes, "Theo claims it gets colder in this part of London, forced me into two jackets like a psychopath."

Remus laughs and nods toward the beer she reaches for, pulling the bottle closer to herself. "You drink this nasty stuff?" He asks, as if there is not a pint in his hands.

"Hate it actually," She says, the corner of her lips lifting. "More of a fruity drink type of girl. The barmaid just sort of handed it over, so..." She leans her elbows on the table, trying to get a closer look at him. He cocks an eyebrow of question. "I like your scars." She says.

He almost chokes on air. "Really now?"

"Yeah," She smiles. "They're cool."

His lips twist into their own smile. "Well, thank you." He says, "Now, hold on..." He reaches down into the seat next to him, pulling out a stack of two books; one clearly tattered with time and the other brand new. "About time you got the copy I stole back, and I decided to get you a paperback version as the new one...a lot easier to carry around, in my opinion."

Her entire face lights up and she takes hold of both books, bringing them into her chest. "Thank you! I love paperbacks!"

His chest shakes with laughter, enjoying seeing her happy. "Smart girl then,"

She giggles and tucks the books down into the seat beside her before taking a long sip of her drink. Remus gazes around the empty bar, save for a few stranglers at the bar, and decides to lower his voice.

"You said in your letter that something happened with your friend Whitman on the full moon," He says, waving her off when she looks around with sudden anxiousness. "No one can hear us, don't worry."

"Well," She breathes out a dramatic sigh. "Are you mentally prepared for a drawn out story?"

He nods, leaning himself on elbows like her. "Hit me with it."

Rose takes a deep breath before unloading every detail of the most recent full moon onto him. She tells him exactly how it happened, every minor moment, but makes sure to leave the part about the Dark Lord healing her out, instead claiming that her own boost of magic healed her—a miracle.

Remus listens with a heavy heart, because he can remember every detail of Whitman Rosier's boggart in third year. It is the whole reason Remus even figured out the boy was a werewolf like himself, if the scars hadn't been enough of a tell-tell sign.

But not only does his heart ache because of the boy's biggest fear coming to life, but because he has lived with those same fears. In his sixth year of Hogwarts he had come close to taking another student's life, not even one he cared about, and he did not even end up harming this student, but to this day Remus Lupin still lives with that guilt. And he can remember all too clearly how he felt the weeks following.

He cannot begin to imagine actually harming the person he loves.

The whole time she recalls this story though, Rose is fidgeting around, her eyes flowing over everything in sight, but Remus does not miss the fact there is no disgust in her gaze or voice; only a hint of agony.

"I know he hates himself, and I yearn to be there for him," She mutters as the story comes to a close, looking out the window. "But he did something awful, not involving the full moon at all, and as a Black and him..."

"I know." Remus says, his heart heavy inside his chest. The deja vu is making his mind spin around and around, looping in circles.

Her jaw tightened, fingers squeezing the cold bottle. In this light, and with the torture on her face, she looks all too much like Sirius Black.

She wished to tell him the rest, but she could not risk him knowing it was Whitman who took Orion's life.

Rose only looks down into the dark liquid, tears blossoming into her waterline. She begs them not to fall, but they do, and she simply shakes her head, forcing a smile as she wipes them away. "Sorry," She mutters.

Remus stretches his hand out, covering one of her own, and squeezing her fingers. "Did you love him?" He asks, voice quiet, "Like really love?"

He already knows the answer. He can see it spelled out all over face.

She lifts her head up and looks Remus dead in the eye, asking the million dollar question. "Did you love my father?"

Rose already knows the answer. She can see it written all over his face every time he looks at her.

His throat runs dry, no sounds coming out.

She nods in understanding beyond comprehension that words could provide.

"History has a cruel way of repeating itself." She says, her heart as heavy as his own.

Remus Lupin has never agreed with anything more.

________________________________

A/N: hello loves!!

—omg so many taylor references

—Whit and rosie are making me ACHE

—i love the little moments where we see rose being soft and like her embarrassment from Theo finding out how much she talked about him ekk!!

—missing tommy boy fr

—Remus Lupin you will ALWAYS be famous <3

—LISTEN, NO AUTHORS NOTE BECAUSE TSIP JUST CAME OUT AND I MUST GO WATCH <3

love u guys xx bri