She was sitting in a dark corner of the random muggle bar she had stumbled into. Few surrounded her, most likely non-magic folk, not that she paid them any mind.
Rose had made a grave mistake, and it was catching up with her. Most of the people In the pub thought the young woman was here drinking the day away because of a break up. And she was, but that's not where her mistakes lay.
Growing up Rose had been fairly anti-social. Not that she wasn't friendly, she was, but found more comfort in herself than in strangers. This would make you think she was quite independent.
She wasn't, not that she realized how much she actually lent on other people until this very moment.
In school she talked to people when it was socially mandatory, worked with people when she had to, but never formed any particularly outstanding bonds with people.
Thinking about it now, she couldn't remember any names outside her family's. When school ended, she didn't move out of her parents house like was probably expected.
Instead she found a rather unspectacular job, in a bland office, close to home. This is where she met him.
Him.
The thought of his name sent shivers down her spine, just like it always did. This time being shivers of disgust rather than of excitement.
The first real relationship she had ever formed outside her family. Her first and only friend, soon became her first boyfriend.
Only two months into their relationship Rose moved in with him, across the city from where her family lived.
Now this is where it got complicated.
Rose didn't know any better, so caught up in this new found relationship she sped through the natural growth of a relationship.
He should have known better.
He did.
He should have stopped her, not encourage her.
The Weasleys and Potters all got involved, trying to tell Rose to slow down, take a step back. They knew she wasn't ready to be without them.
She thought she was independent enough. Not that it mattered, he was there.
She pushed them away, rushing deeper into this emotional bond. She cut them all off, they didn't understand.
She stopped taking their letters and other messages. When they came around the flat she shared with him, Rose pretended no one was home. Eventually they stopped trying, and she was thankful.
She became so wrapped up in this feeling, all she knew was him. She quit her job and focused her life around his, picking up and moving when his job called for it. Unfortunately this was frequently.
She accepted the late nights he had, because it was important.
She accepted his "boys nights", because he thrived off the social interaction. Funny, considering Rose had no relations outside hers with him.
This continued for years, Rose living in ignorance of what was really happening.
To her, this was a long, loving, healthy relationship. To everyone else it was obvious this was not the case. Anyone who looked at them could see he didn't love her, he may not mind her, but he didn't love her. He loved her name, and the names that were attached to it.
But Rose didn't know any better. How could she have?
Slowly his nights got longer, and boys night was no longer exclusively male, not that Rose was invited. She thought nothing of it.
They had been together for six years when he to.d her to leave.
He may have liked her, he may have thought she was beautiful, but he never loved Rose. During those long nights, he had truly fallen for another, so he let her go.
But for her it was like she was a trapeze artist and he had cut her rope, only her safety net was not there to catch her when she fell, she had pushed it away six years before.
Was it too late to go home?
By now she lived across the country from when her family used to live.
Though she probably could have apparated or flown home, she was distraught by the thought of the one person she had ever trusted, no longer loving her. She still didn't realize that he never had.
She slowly made her way across the country, going from pub to pub, never quite sure of the time or place, only the direction she had to go in.
Maybe it wasn't too late to go home.
After about a week of traveling she made it to what had once been her family home. It now stood tall and abandoned, no longer holding the cheerful atmosphere she had associated it with.
This was the only place she knew too look, the hope of seeing her family the only thing she had.
And now she had nothing.
Rose managed to pull herself together long enough to get to the local bar where she sat now, wrapped up in her misery.
It was too late to come home.
Please let me know what you think. The song I was listening to while I wrote this is long and lost by Florence + the machine, it was also what inspired me to write this.