Shades of Grey
4. A Cliché With Complications

Disclaimer: Not only am I not creative enough to come up with my own fictional universe, I'm also not creative enough to come up with a clever disclaimer in which to publicly announce that all this Harry Potter mumbo-jumbo belongs to JKR.
...Oh, that'd do it, then. xD
Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm taking too long to get these out; it's been weeks; WTF AMANDA?! I got it. Chill.

With a surprising twist of fate, the evening continued without incident. She sat sandwiched between Draco and Blaise. Draco kept casting sidelong glances at Rose, which she promptly ignored, and Blaise's hand just happened to continually land on offensive places of her lap, which she didn't ignore quite so easily. By the third or fourth time, when Rose tried to snap his wrist, Blaise gave up. When tea was over, she shook hands with each of her "suitors," and showed them the door.

"I think that went well," Christopher muttered to himself, walking upstairs to his bedroom. Claire followed him.

"I don't think that went well at all," Rose grumbled, looking to Alex for support. He shrugged. "As my big brother, I would assume you'd have some sort of natural instinct to look out for me when a guy is—oh, what's the phrase—making a move on me."

He looked at her for a few long seconds, and then began laughing. "Sure, you need my protection," he snorted, and walked away, chuckling. She scowled at his back.

For the next couple of days, Rose managed to avoid talking to her parents. She spent most of her time with Daphne. After breakfast the following day, she took the fireplace to Daphne's house where they spent a few hours of their time discussing marriage, playing Exploding Snaps, eating lunch, and discussing more marriage. It wasn't a particularly pleasant topic, but Daphne seemed determined to do most of the talking, so Rose didn't mind it that much. She was always content with letting Daphne talk, while she listened. Being the great friend that Daphne is, she always seemed to sense when something was troubling Rose, and took over the conversation completely, rambling about pointless topics.

"Rose?" she finally said when her best friend was taking a handful of floo powder, preparing to go home for dinner.

"Yeah?"

She changed her mind. "Do you want to come to Diagon Alley with me tomorrow? I've decided I'm going to buy new dress robes for Christmas."

"Sure." Rose half-smiled, and threw the powder down, shouting, "Fourteen Flagley Court!"

The next day, Rose floo'd to Daphne's just before lunch. They ate in her kitchen, and then took the fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron. Rose's spirits didn't seem much higher than they had the day before, but Daphne figured this shopping trip was just what the healer ordered. They walked straight to Madam Malkin's, two girls on a mission. Of course, to their dismay, whom should they find there, but the one person neither of them wanted to see?

"Well, who do we have here?" came the drawl of the aforementioned pain-in-the-arse.

"'Ello," Daphne muttered, looking through a clothing rack.

"What are you doing here?" Rose sneered.

"Picking out dress robes, of course," she snorted, as if it should have been obvious.

"Why? Aren't your dress robes for Christmas custom made?"

Pansy sniffed. "Obviously. These are for lesser occasions."

Rose rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to the dress robes Daphne was examining. They walked around the store, looking at all of the different styles and colours the shop had to offer. Pansy's eyes watched them curiously most of the time, and she kept annoyingly close by. Halfway through the clothing hunt, Daphne suggested that Rose buy new robes as well. Rose protested that she had enough dress robes at home, and would just wear something old. Daphne scoffed, looked meaningfully over at Pansy and whispered,

"Don't you want to show up in something better than her?"

Rose thought about it seriously, and a mischievous smirk crossed her face. She nodded, and the hunt continued. They spent a good half-hour browsing through the racks. It was your typical shopping trip with two friends, what more do you want? Simple, cliché shopping. Daphne found the perfect dress robes, of course, and set to work squealing over finding her friend something gorgeous to wear; which, naturally, she did.

As they were heading to the changing rooms to put on their new robes, Rose suddenly spun around to face a very flustered looking Pansy Parkinson, who's cheeks flushed red at being caught eavesdropping.

"Look, I understand you're probably male under all the make-up and skirts, but can you kindly refrain from following us into the changing rooms? I'd rather not have nightmarish images of your pug face staring at me naked every time I close my eyes at night. Thank you."

Pansy continued to blush, though her features rearranged themselves into a scowl as Rose walked into the changing room and pulled the curtain closed. Pansy walked away in a huff, peeved at being so insulted.

And that is how Rose Martell and Daphne Greengrass managed to blow off an entire day. Though Rose was thankful for this getaway, she now had to face the upcoming party, and her mood dropped again. All too soon, the night of the 24th arrived, and as Rose sat in the hot bubbles of her bath, she thought about how nice it would be to have a normal Christmas Eve at home. She grew so tired of these social gatherings that her parents always felt obligated to attend. She didn't feel obligated to attend. Why couldn't she stay home?

Rose sighed, drained the water, and stepped out. She ran the towel over her legs and arms, wrapped it tightly around her body, and headed out to her room.

Rose's mum came out of the master bedroom then, stopping when she saw Rose. "You're still not dressed?" she shrieked, fastening an earring to her right lobe.

"I'm going," Rose grumbled.

"Hurry up! We're leaving in 20 minutes, Roselyn. You do this every bloody time. I'm tired of this. Either you're—Where are you going?! I'm talking to you!"

"I thought you wanted me to go get dressed, mother," she replied through clenched teeth.

Claire gaped for a minute, then spluttered, "So, what are you standing around for, then?"

Rose stared, open-mouthed, after her. What the fuck?

Muttering silent profanities under her breath the entire time, Rose pulled on her dress robes: Long, flowing satin with emerald-green trimmings. Thanks to her lack of magic, she didn't have time to dry her hair, so she pulled it up into a loose bun of wet curls, and hoped it would dry nicely. She doubted it.

The Malfoy Manor looked the same as it always did this time of year: decorated with exaggerated extravagance. She smirked at the silver tinsel and strings of glass bulbs filled with glowing fairies hanging from the ceiling, framing the windows and paintings. The oversized Christmas tree in the corner decorated lavishly in silver, green, and blue did not amuse her. Rose, having passed out drunk in Malfoy Manor last Christmas—and very rudely left behind by her parents—knew all too well what the place looked like after the evening festivities. She had awoken sometime in the middle of the day with a throbbing headache and the need to puke her intestines into a bucket, not to mention the weird case of hangover-amnesia. She looked around the house and nothing looked out of the ordinary. There were no decorations, no people, no sign of a party or a holiday at all. At the time, it had frightened her to the deepest pits of her gut, turning it cold. It was bad enough to wake up, half naked, in the Malfoy's guest room, but it was another thing entirely not to remember how or why she was there.

Point is, Rose knew all too well that the decorations now set up around the main floor of the Manor were all for show and would be taken down first thing the following morning.

She remembered, quite vaguely, something about being told not to drink too much at this party as she made her way over to the bar. She scanned the bottles, trying to decide where to start. She was just reaching for a rather appealing bottle of rum when a hand caught her wrist.

"Rosie, you promised," Daphne whispered in her ear.

"I know," she muttered, wrenching herself free of Daphne's grip. She quickly changed course to the left and grabbed a bottle of butterbeer. "Happy?"

"Rosie," Daphne growled.

"It's butterbeer, Daph, I swear."

"Good. Keep it that way," she nodded, still eyeing her friend suspiciously. Rose saw Theodore Nott standing just behind Daphne, watching the exchange with curiosity. Daphne grabbed two butterbeers, handed one to Nott, and walked away with a quick, "See you later, Rosie."

The second Daphne was out of sight, having pushed through a crowd of people to the opposite side of the room, Rose grabbed the rum bottle she had been eyeing, and poured herself a real drink. She took a small sip, and, realizing just how thirsty she really had been, downed the entire glass in one gulp. She let a small chuckle escape her lips before pouring herself another glass, and walking away from the table of alcohol.

"Hey, Rose!" called an all-too-familiar voice from somewhere she couldn't see. She looked around to see Blaise Zabini coming toward her from behind a group of adults. She grimaced as he stood next to her.

"Hello," she replied sourly, sipping her drink.

"What've you got there?" he asked conversationally, pointing at her glass.

She scowled. "What do you want, Zabini?"

"Whoa, easy on the hostility. What have I done?" he said, throwing his hands up in a defensive position.

She took a deep breath. "Nothing. Sorry, Blaise, I'm just not in the mood to be here tonight."

"I can see that," he chuckled, nodding toward her drink. "If you want," he muttered, suddenly putting his hands against the wall on either side of her, and leaning in next to her ear, "I can get you in the mood."

She pushed him away, and he stepped back, a large grin spread wide on his face. He shrugged casually and leaned back against the wall beside her as though nothing happened. She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink some more. Rose watched the crowd of people in a neutrally observatory fashion. It wasn't much fun. Everyone stood around talking and drinking, low music playing lightly in the background. She saw a group of Slytherins from school laughing boisterously in a big group. The adults regarded them with disdain. Daphne was sitting with Draco, Pansy, and Theodore a few feet away from the group. Daphne didn't seem too comfortable, but Rose figured her friend could tough it out on her own until she finished her drink, because she didn't plan to have it taken away from her. As she watched, Daphne's eyes flickered upward, and Rose quickly hid her glass behind her back. Daphne seemed unaware, pointing her head discreetly toward Blaise and winking at her.

She turned away before Rose had a chance to protest. As she continued to watch her friends, Draco stood from his chair and announced, quite loudly, that he needed to pee. He then proceeded to walk from the room. Rose steeled herself, looked toward the group Draco had abandoned, and when no one was looking, she tore off after him.

Only one thought ran through her mind as she followed his disappearing figure up the stairs: I have to know.

"Draco?" she called, opening every door as she went. "Are you up here?"

It didn't occur to her that opening doors looking for him when he said he was going to pee probably wasn't a wise idea until she found him. Luckily, he was still fully clothed. She hesitated for a few seconds, then decided she should let him piss first, and left. She planned to wait outside the door for him, but didn't have to wait longer than a couple of seconds before he came out.

"Rose?" he said awkwardly, raising an eyebrow.

"I need to talk to you," she said hurriedly. "Are you going to pee?"

He looked over his shoulder, as though momentarily confused, then shook his head. Rose grabbed his hand and led him to the room next door. Draco tripped over the carpet as they entered. She waited for him to close the door behind her, and worked out how to best phrase her question.

Suddenly Draco's head shot straight up, as though seeing Rose for the first time. "Got an idea!" he announced loudly.

"You do?"

"Yeah! It's great! Listen here!" he shouted giddily.

"You don't have to yell, I'm right here," she said irritably.

He began nodded vigorously as he walked toward her. "You," he said, stretching the word out awkwardly, "Should chose me," he jabbed a finger at his chest, "to marry you," he pointed at her in conclusion, stumbling slightly as he lost balance.

"Draco…are you drunk? Or am I drunk?" She looked down at the nearly-full glass of rum in her hand, frowning slightly. "Ugh, no, you're drunk."

"Pfft, I had, like, one drink," he scoffed. "So, marry me?"

"Yeah, okay," she said sarcastically. "If I ever have a death wish, sure."

"Come on, baby," he cooed in attempted seduction, failing spectacularly because he stumbled again.

He tried to throw his arms over Rose's neck, but she sidestepped, and he fell onto the chair she had been leaning against. He stayed there. Rose turned around, looking at him with revulsion. She'd never seen Draco drunk before…or perhaps she had but didn't notice because she was just as drunk herself. Either or. The sudden fall to the chair seemed to have sobered Draco up a little, or at least calmed him down enough to get control over himself, because his face suddenly became serious.

"Funny, this, innit?" His voice had a mocking edge to it.

Rose knew precisely what he was talking about, but still said, "Why is that?"

"The tables just seem a little turned, don't they? What with me being the—" He hiccupped. "—drunk one, and you not, in this here bedroom." He flailed his arm around in a circular movement to motion to the rest of the room.

"You've got one fucked up sense of humour," she spat. He began laughing, loud and cruel.

"Don't kid yourself, Rose," he answered, his words slurring. "It was the best night of your life."

"You took advantage of me, you sick son of a bitch!" she yelled. He laughed again.

"You didn't say no," he reminded her.

"Just because it wasn't rape, doesn't mean it wasn't wrong," she hissed.

"You loved it," he teased in a gruff sing-song voice.

Rose was going to retaliate, but she couldn't think of one clever thing to say, so she settled for grinding her teeth. "I can't talk to you like this. I'll see you when you're sober. Go to bed, Draco."

"Only if you come with me," he replied. She turned away in disgust, and walked from the room. "So, does that mean you're going to marry me?" he called after her. She left without a reply.

Back downstairs, she located Pansy still sitting with Daphne and Theodore, Blaise having joined them. She walked straight up to her, not looking at either of her other friends.

"If I were you," she said, and Pansy looked up in surprise, "I'd keep your boyfriend on a tighter leash."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, draining her drink in one large gulp. She poured herself another, and drank it just as quickly, finishing off with several milligrams of Firewhiskey.

. . .

Everything looked normal enough, though she couldn't help but feel like something was very wrong. She turned in circles, trying to pinpoint exactly what was amiss. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just simply her garden. She stood in the middle of the grass, her back to the house, staring at the white wooden fence that encased the perimeter of her property. She turned in a full circle once more, and when she faced the fence again, her parents were standing in front of her, their arms linked.

"Mum? Dad?" she called to them, worried. What was going on? She couldn't what they were thinking tell from their expressions. There was something on their faces she wasn't sure she'd seen before.

"Come here to us, baby," her mother cooed. Rose's eyebrow shot up. 'Baby?' she thought. What is she trying to pull, talking to me like that?

Rose walked toward her parents cautiously, casting nervous glances over her shoulder. As she got closer, she realized it wasn't her parents at all. She had mistaken Draco Malfoy's blond hair for her father's. What was Draco doing with his mother? As she wondered this, she looked over to find that her mother wasn't with Draco, it was her. Her eyes bulged. The smile on her face—or whoever this person that looked like her was—became a grimace, while Draco's smirk turned into a sneer. There suddenly were flashes of light that blinded her, and she fell to the ground. The grass was hot beneath her fingers, though it seemed to be night time. She heard a high voice speak to her, but it sounded distant. It was then followed by more flashes of light. She felt her lips forming the word 'no,' but she couldn't manage to scream it.

"No!" she wanted to say. "No! I don't want this! NO!"

Her throat refused to make sound appear. Her entire body tensed, preparing for pain, but it never came.

Rose woke up with a cold sweat running down her forehead, anxiety rising in her chest, and her lips still formed in a circular 'o' from the words she couldn't make herself produce in the dream. She tried to take deep breaths to calm the raging panic that made her want to scream and run away and never come back.

A/N: Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

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