Chapter One
Though death hath sucked the honey of thy sweet breath, death hath not yet had power over thy beauty."
Romeo, Romeo and Juliet
The Quintette period was about to begin at Hogwarts. Five whole weeks of catching up on work, studying for exams, and finalizing summer internships and post-Hogwarts life for the seventh years.
Ron and Hermione wondered about Harry. Where he was, what he was doing, that sort of thing. The other Gryffindors were just the same. So was Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and one or two Slytherins, believe it or not.
Rose's Sorting was shocking, to say the least. But she seemed to know it would happen. And there was a reason for that. A very dark secret, holding and surrounding that reason.
Harry watched Hedwig fly into the night with tears in his eyes. He almost wished Voldemort had killed him. Instead, he had decided to let Harry live with the guilt and shame of losing everything. Suddenly he thought about Rosaliea. He put his head between his hands and groaned. She would break off their four month engagement after this. This was the mother of all stupid.
Professor McGonagall read the letter. Harry Potter was coming back to Hogwarts. It didn't state the outcome of the war, though. That definitely was not a good sign.
Rosaliea lay in the Slytherin common room, staring at the ceiling. She didn't notice Draco in the room until he reached out and gently shoved her to one side so he could sit next to her on the green leather ottoman. Rose's body heat had made it warm, but he still wrapped up in a blanket. "Hey, howzzit?" he asked gently, looking at her with concern. "Not so great. You know how he gets after I pull one of my stunts." "Yeah, he can be pretty brutal." "You know what though, I honestly don't care," Rose vented, standing up and stretching. "Where are you going?" asked Draco, smirking. The clock read 4:30 am, so he already knew the answer. She picked up her bag and began packing it. Into the bag went a pair of swim shorts, a turquoise tank top, black jeans, a green bikini top. and chlorine-scented lotion. The sun's first rays were beginning to peak over the horizon, turning the lake pearl colored. As an afterthought, she packed her Slytherin school uniform. "Don't be late for breakfast!" Draco called after her, knowing she could easily lose track of time when she was swimming. He shook his head. Rosaliea had always been his favorite cousin.
Professor McGonagall swept down the old staircase in her old tartan dressing gown to greet him. "You haven't told anyone?" Harry asked torpidly, feeling faint under her stern gaze. "Not a soul. So, which side won?" she asked, sounding as nonchalant as if she were asking the weather. "Theirs," he replied bitterly, dashing away the tears that quickly welled up in his eyes. He had shed far too many tears this past week, and these were his last. "Now, excuse me, Professor." She sidestepped to let him pass, weeping silently.
Harry made his way down to the lake, sitting on a rock surrounded by blue sage and shadowed by a grand weeping willow. As he watched the sunrise, he decided it was about time to go to breakfast. As he turned to leave, he was suddenly grabbed by a cold wet hand and pulled to the ground.
Rosaliea put a finger to her lips, then stood up. "Morning, Ron, 'Mione," she called brightly. "What brings you down here this fine morning?" "Just came looking for you. Malfoy said you took off several hours earlier than usual this morning, and usually you would have beaten us to breakfast and would be done and gone by now, but nobody's seen you." "Ok, I was a bit busy. So what? Give me a few minutes to change, and I'll be up in about five minutes, ten minutes tops. That work for you?" "But I'm starv-" began Ron, but Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and said, "That's fine. Just take your time."
"Thanks for the save," breathed Harry as soon as they were gone.
"No problem, kid, first one's free." she said simply, stripping down till she was naked as a jay. It didn't bother Rose that Harry was right there; he had seen it before, and had done alot worse to her than just looking. She quickly pulled on her jeans and tank top. While doing so, she asked, "So, whatadya gonna do now that Riddle's won?" "How did you know about that?" Harry asked, feeling a hint of vertigo. "Ron never told you? I can see the future. In fact, Ron told me you wanted to know about your future." Then she started talking rapidly until she was blue in the face.
"Take a deep breath, Rose," chuckled Harry. He grinned down at the girl. "Ok, let's go to breakfast!" she shouted, pumping her fists in the air. Soon they were racing each other to the Great Hall.
"I can't do this Rosealiea. I can't face them." Harry said, starting to sweat and feel nauseous. "It's Quintette. You can sit with us," she answered, shrugging. "Uh, yeah, ok, no help. Sitting with Gryffindor is what I want to avoid, so I'll figure out something else." "Slytherin, O great genius. C'mon." she pulled him through the crowd to a barely inhabited table. The rest of the House tables were overflowing with students.
Ron poked Hermione in the side. "What?" she asked, drinking from a glass of orange juice. "Does he look familiar to you?" Ron asked, pointing to the boy sitting next to his little sister at the Slytherin table. Hermione turned around. Neville, Luna, Cho, Ginny, and Colin followed his example. Sure enough, there sat Harry James Potter, snogging Rosealiea Weasley.
"Rose!" Harry said, pushing her away. "Ron is looking!" "OK, so?" she asked leaning in to attack again. At that moment several Slytherins trudged into the Great Hall, grumbling about the early hours.
Chapter Two
Summer break began. Harry had disappeared, everybody thinking he was killed by Death Eaters.
Rose knew where he was, and planned to join him in Beverly Hills after the summer ended.
For now she was going to Kalliakerriey Island, because her dad, The Dark Lord, wanted her to become a warrior, even though he made it against the law for women to do anything but marry the men, care for their wounds, feed them, and to give birth to the men's strong Greetalian children. (Greek and Italian) She could fight, growing up in the Weasley house had taught her how to do that, although Molly could have wished otherwise.
"So, Severus, you wish to marry your young son, Alan, to Princess Izabella?" Voldemort inquired Severus Snape, stroking his snake Nagini's head with two long white fingers. "Yessir, my lord," he answered, bowing low. "We shall see," Voldemort's soft hissing voice said in a dismissive tone. Snape bowed once more, and then was gone.
Rose set her Quidditch bag on the sandy beach, looking at the Palace le' Grande, the Schola, the Dorms, and the actual village. 'Whoa," she said, looking at all of this on top of the large plateau. "Get a load of this dump!"
"Are you Princess Izabella?" a voice asked out of the darkness. A boy seemed to melt out of the shadows. He was tall, thin, and rangy. His golden eyes flashed in the black of night, one of them shadowed with a large purple bruise. His hair was of a greasy black, and came to his shoulders. "Yes, I am. Who, pray tell, are you?" Rose asked.
"Alan Snape, although everybody here calls me Graves." "Ok, Graves, nice to meet you! I'm known as Risqué'!" "Cool nickname. May I ask how you came to have it?" "I am disinclined to acquiesce your request," Rose giggled, picking up her pack and running up the narrow pathway, Graves, who had previously been the fastest of all the boys, struggled to keep up about a hundred yards behind.
The next day, Rose was working so hard none of the boys could believe it. She was punching the 140 lb. bag twenty times per second; (yes this is possible!) not even breaking a sweat. Ke$ha's "Tik Tok" was playing, and she was punching the bag in time to the beat.
Graves watched the Princess with disbelief. nobody, not even the oldest and better seasoned Death Eaters could do that. And here was little fragile, delicate-looking Risk, as they had begun to call her, absolutely murdering this bag without any struggle. When she was finished, he jogged after her. "How did you do that? You haven't had a day of training in your life, and yet you can do that?" he exclaimed. "Well, I look at it his way. If someone you truly love is in risqué'-that's where I get the nickname by the way, from my life- risk war stunts- you're going to fight until your heart stops beating, right? So, you have a choice: let them get killed to save your hide, or kill that bastard that's this close-" Rose demonstrated with her fingers-"to killing your family, or friends. Which would you choose?" she finished, and whisked away.
Graves sat at the grave site, crying his eyes out. Not two weeks after Risky Rosey had told him how she could manage to fight like it was the end of the world, she had hurled herself, in the line of a sword to save him. It had pierced her heart, and if she had not thrown herself in front of the rapier', he would not be standing here today.
Rose clawed at the dirt, freeing herself from her grave. She was, after all, half vampire, and could easily survive a sword attack. She gave a short sprint to the top of the hill, and Dissaparated to her new life as a Muggle housewife.