:: :: :: ::
At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall handed around their new class schedules and went through every student to make sure they were cleared to take the classes they wanted to take for their NEWT's. Rose hadn't anticipated being able to take potions this year, because Snape required an Outstanding on the OWLs, and Rose had only gotten an Exceeds Expectations, but Snape wasn't teaching Potions this year, and Slughorn was happy enough to take students with E's. Rose thought if she'd only gotten an Acceptable Slughorn would have lowered his bar so she could reach it.
Ron Weasley was in the same boat, and McGonagall assured them that though they hadn't bought potions ingredients or the book, they could borrow from the students' stores and get books from Slughorn until their owl orders arrived.
The first class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape, which seemed like a rough way to begin every week for the rest of term, so the sixth year Gryffindors trudged up to the DADA classroom with a sense of dread.
The class turned out to be much like Rose had expected. Snape was in his element, sweeping about the room like a bat, making dire statements about their poor chances against agents who would wish them harm, because they'd never had proper schooling in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and showing them grotesque illustrations of people who had been cursed with horrible hexes.
Rose was pleased as punch. Finally, she would have a decent professor in this subject! She would learn how to protect and defend herself! Perhaps next time she came up against Voldemort she wouldn't wind up on the floor, screaming in pain, and then have her hair pulled and her head jerked about while Voldemort made mocking statements. Snape would be the best DADA teacher they'd had since Remus.
Rose smiled, and Snape pounced on it with a glare, as though he thought she was mocking him.
"Problem, Miss Potter?" he snarled.
"No, sir. I'm just glad Professor Dumbledore finally set us a good teacher for this subject."
He glared at her suspiciously.
Rose frowned. "I really am."
Snape quirked an eyebrow, gave her a half nod in acknowledgement for the complement, and got on with the lesson.
:: :: :: ::
In Potions class, Slughorn handed Rose two old textbooks of Advanced Potion Making, and asked her to hand the other down to Ron. Rose flicked through her copy, and quickly swapped with Ron.
"Oi," he said. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. It's the same as mine."
Ron scowled suspiciously, and hunched over his book to examine it. "Someone's written in it," he complained. "I can barely make out what's printed here."
"Oh, mine's like that too," Rose lied. "Writing absolutely everywhere."
Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, and turned his back on her to sidle up to Hermione. Rose didn't feel too bad about the lie. Ron would only have the book with all the scribbles for a week at most, and Rose reckoned he'd be leaning close enough to Hermione in class to get a look at her pristine textbook if he really needed to.
Slughorn was a bit of a showman, which didn't surprise Rose at all, and he took great delight in showing off his potion making skills and quizzing the class on what they knew about these difficult potions. Slughorn had prepared cauldrons of Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, and a love potion called Amortentia, which everyone thought smelled like something different. Hermione smelled parchment and mown grass. To Rose it smelled like chocolate, violets, and expensive cologne. Like Draco, she thought ruefully. There was also a potion called Felix Felicis, which apparently made a person very lucky when they drank it.
Hermione ended up impressing Slughorn, which was just as well. If Slughorn hadn't noticed Hermione's extreme case of brilliance then he and Rose would have had a chat about it until Slughorn came around to Rose's way of thinking.
Slughorn made a vial of Felix Felicis the prize for whoever brewed the best example of Draught of Living Death.
Draco looked like he would win that vial or drink his entire cauldron of Draught of Living Death. Hermione worked feverishly, her hair frizzing up in the heat coming off her cauldron. Rose thought it would be quite nice to win as well, if only because Draco seemed to want it so badly, and she wasn't quite sure he ought to have it, and followed the directions carefully. But in the end, Ron Weasley came out of nowhere and won the little vial.
Hermione looked stunned.
"Well, well, well," said Slughorn. "The Weasleys continue to impress! Good job, my boy."
Ron blushed. "Thank you, sir."
"How did you do that?" Hermione asked. "How—?"
"I just followed the instructions?" Ron said. "Like in the book."
Hermione frowned. "But I followed them exactly. I know I did."
Rose patted her arm. "Looks like you might have some competition, Hermione."
"No! I don't— I don't want to compete," said Ron. "Hermione's brilliant, and I— I don't. I wouldn't want to—" Hermione's shock swiftly turned to irritation.
"Unseat me from my academic throne?" said Hermione testily.
"Yes, that," said Ron. He looked relieved for all of two seconds, and then registered the look on Hermione's face.
Hermione huffed, and started to pack up her potion ingredients with sharp movements. "I can certainly handle any competition you want to offer, Ronald," she snapped.
Ron gaped like a fish. "I know that! I didn't mean—"
Hermione turned up her nose, vanished the potion in her cauldron, gathered her things, and strode from the classroom.
"Bloody hell," said Ron. His shoulders sagged, and he sat in his chair with a thump. He looked at the vial of Felix Felicis in his hand and scowled at it. "Should have had some straight off," he muttered.
"There, there, Mr. Weasley," said Slughorn, patting Ron on the shoulder. "I daresay the fairer sex are difficult for men to fathom at times, but I don't think you need resort to old Felix just yet."
Ron nodded at Slughorn, looking disconsolate.
Rose smiled to herself, and packed up her things. The classroom slowly emptied, as the other students gathered their things together and left the room. She looked at the front of the classroom, and watched Draco take his seat again. What had he been doing? Rose caught his eye, and tipped her head to the side in question. Draco smirked, and arched his eyebrows at her. He looked to Slughorn, and seeing that he was still occupied with Ron, flashed her a glimpse of a potion vial hidden in his hand, filled with a matching sparkly gold potion to the one Ron was still frowning over.
Draco had stolen some of Slughorn's Felix Felicis while everyone had been distracted by Slughorn's praise of Ron's potion, and the subsequent drama with Hermione. Merlin, of course he did.
Draco gathered his things together, and as he was leaving the room walked past her table. "Should come in handy, don't you think?" he said in an undertone, and left the room.
Rose swallowed a sigh, and hoped he would use it to save his parents and nothing more. If he decided to use it to further any of Voldemort's agendas in order to keep his parents safe it could prove disastrous. She hoped that he would have no need of it at all, and he would eventually see the sense in going to ask Dumbledore for help.
And a tiny part of her hoped that maybe, he'd stolen two vials of the potion, because she could really use some good luck.
:: :: :: ::
It was too early in the year for homework in Rose's mind, but that didn't stop Hermione from setting up shop at a table in the common room with all her books, a stack of parchment, and a pot of color change ink. She was laying out her note-taking system for all their new classes. Rose sat nearby pretending to read the assigned pages for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but really watching Hermione's neat, precise progress across several rolls of parchment.
Cormac McLaggen swaggered over to stand next to their table. His face was smoothed over with a charming smile, and obviously focused on Hermione.
"Hello, again, Potter," said Cormac, giving her a cursory glance before his eyes snapped back to Hermione, whose curly head was still bent over her notes.
"'Lo, Cormac," said Rose. She flipped a page in her book. It made a crisp, satisfying noise that Rose meant to mean, 'Goodbye, arsehole.'
"So how about Old Sluggy, eh?" he said. "Quite a group he picked up on the train to school."
Rose nodded. Some of her favorite people had been invited, but then so had Cormac McLaggen. There was always a rotten apple in a bunch.
"My father said that Slughorn likes to invite his favorite students around for special dinners and the like. Sometimes he invites famous former students," said Cormac.
"I'd heard the same thing," said Rose. Dumbledore had told her what Slughorn's plan was - to collect her like the shiniest prize in his collection of shiny things. Rose didn't mind if it meant she got to spend time with other shiny people.
"I imagine with her brains Granger here will be invited to the next do," said Cormac.
Hermione looked up, blinking, as though only just now realizing that they were not alone any longer.
Cormac smiled at Hermione, and though it was possibly the most handsome expression Rose had ever seen on his face, all she could think of was last year when this same boy asked George if Rose put out.
What an arsehole.
Rose was not inclined to forgive and forget something like that, but she didn't want to rain on Hermione's boy parade either.
Hermione smiled back at Cormac, though only a little. She did not look as charmed by Cormac as she had by Viktor Krum, and did not have the wide eyed look she got when Ron Weasley was in the vicinity and doing something unexpectedly sweet. Rose thought she could rest easy.
"Who else do you suppose will be invited?" asked Cormac.
"I'm not sure," said Rose. Though she thought she could guess.
"I doubt Belby will be asked back," said Cormac. "Slughorn didn't seem to like that he didn't see his uncle much."
"I suppose not."
"He didn't seem to like Longbottom much either," said Cormac.
Rose made a face. Neville was quite one of her favorite people, and she thought anyone who underestimated him was not looking hard enough. Neville was wonderful.
"I expect Hermione, and Ron, probably," she said. After Ron's performance today in Slughorn's class, there was little chance Slughorn wouldn't invite him around to Slug Club.
"Ron Weasley?" said Cormac, scrunching up his nose. "I didn't think he was quite Slughorn's sort."
"He's very clever," said Hermione, and then looked as though she hadn't meant to say anything.
"If you say so," said Cormac, dubious. "Though I never thought he was quite as clever as the twins."
"Just because Ron isn't as showy—" said Hermione heatedly, and then stopped speaking abruptly. She looked flustered, and got to her feet. "Excuse me, I forgot something in my room."
Cormac watched her leave, mystified. He looked back to Rose, and said, "What was that all about?"
Rose pasted on a fake smile, and shrugged as though she had no idea. She loudly turned a page in her book without reading it, and hoped Cormac would get the hint.
He did, and nodded awkwardly. He cocked his thumb in the direction of the portrait hole, indicating that he was going to leave now. Rose nodded, fake smile firmly in place, and turned another page in her book as he left.
Cormac left through the portrait hole, and Ginny and Dean entered before it could swing shut again.
Ginny suspiciously peered around the room, and satisfied, grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him across the room to sit at Rose's table.
"Hello, lovebirds," said Rose over the top of her book.
"Shh!" said Ginny. "Not so loud. Where's my brother?"
"How should I know? And why?"
Ginny gave Dean a look, and rolled her eyes at him. "Because someone," she said pointedly, "is afraid of what Ron will do once he finds out that Dean likes to stick his tongue in my mouth."
Dean covered his eyes with one hand, mortified. "Oh my god, why are you telling her this?"
"I tell Rose everything."
Dean looked up in alarm. "When you say everything…"
"Everything," said Rose, smirking at him. Dean blushed.
"Does Seamus know you two are together?" asked Rose.
"Yeah, of course," said Dean. "Why?"
Why? Because Seamus was terrible at keeping secrets. When he had a piece of juicy gossip he liked to tease the people involved in what he thought was a clever manner, but really just gave the game away.
"You ought to just tell Ron," said Rose. "He'll fly off the handle, but who cares?"
"I care," said Dean. "He's my friend, and I share a dorm with him."
"He'll be angrier when he finds out that you've been lying to him about it."
"Maybe he won't find out."
"Why wouldn't he find out?" asked Ginny.
"I just mean—"
"Do you mean to hide this relationship forever?" she asked, heatedly.
"No!" said Dean. "I just mean… can't we put off the inevitable for a bit longer?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and then subsided. Dean sighed in relief. "I suppose," she said. "Sneaking around is kind of exciting."
Hermione appeared at the bottom of the staircase to the dorms, empty handed. She looked relieved to find Cormac gone, and took her seat at the table again.
"Hullo, Ginny, Dean," she said. She took up her quill, and poised it over the parchment again. "What are you talking about?"
"We were just talking about Ron."
Hermione's grip on the quill tightened. "What about Ron?" She looked between them all, shifty eyed and flushing.
"I was just saying that they ought to tell Ron that they're dating before he finds out on his own."
"Oh," said Hermione, sinking into her chair, and letting out a shaky sigh.
"He'll freak out," said Dean. "He'll kill me. He'll put spiders in my bed."
Hermione shook her head. "He wouldn't do that. Ron's afraid of spiders."
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"
"He told that story this summer, about how Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider when he was little… You don't remember." Ginny and Rose shook their heads. Hermione scowled slightly, and her cheeks pinked further.
"You must have a really good memory," said Dean.
"She does," said Rose, coming to her bff's rescue. "She remembers absolutely everything." Especially if it came out of Ron Weasley's mouth.
"Are you guys talking about Ron Weasley?" asked Lavender, who appeared from nowhere and slipped into the chair beside Hermione.
"Um… yes?" said Rose.
Lavender grinned, dimple appearing in her cheek, and clasped her hands on the table. She leaned in close, and asked, "Don't you think he got… tall over break?"
"Tall?" asked Ginny.
Lavender waved her away. "You're his sister. You wouldn't notice. Rosie, 'Mione, don't you think he got tall?" She waggled her eyebrows, and laughed.
"And by tall you mean?" asked Rose.
Lavender gave her a flat look. "Hot, Rose. I mean hot. Merlin."
Dean leaned far back in his chair. "Ohh. You mean…"
"He's all handsome now, and a bit dreamy, really," said Lavender. "Don't you think, Rose?"
"I guess?" said Rose. "I don't really… I mean…"
"She means, 'eugh!'" said Ginny. "That's my brother. And he is not 'dreamy.' Eugh."
"She doesn't mean, 'eugh,'" said Lavender. "And of course you'd say that. You're his sister."
"My brother is not hot!" said Ginny.
"He is though," said Lavender. She turned mischievous, and winked at Rose before going on. "He's got those arms, and those blue eyes, and that bum!"
"Gross, Lavender!" said Ginny.
"Hermione agrees with me," said Lavender. "Don't you, 'Mione?"
Hermione didn't look up from her notes, hair falling into her face to hide her blush from Lavender. Rose, across the table, could see perfectly how pink Hermione was.
"He's not bad," said Hermione, fooling no one.
Lavender laughed, and nudged Hermione's elbow. Her quill went skidding across the parchment, leaving a jagged, inky mark. "Not bad? That must mean you agree completely," said Lavender.
"Shall I tell him about how dreamy you think he is, Lavender?" asked Dean, a smirk playing on his lips.
Lavender nodded. "Please do, and ask him what he thinks about me, okay?"
"Why?" asked Hermione, ever so slightly shrill.
"To see if he'll go out with me, of course," said Lavender. "I'm in the market for a boyfriend."
It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, Rose thought, wincing. Hermione's face went blank, she dropped her quill, and turned to face Lavender. "Boyfriend? You really like him that much?"
Lavender shrugged. "I think he's cute, and he's nice. I'd like to spend more time with him. What more do you need in a boyfriend, really?"
Hermione blinked at her. "I guess nothing."
Lavender smiled. "We should find you a boyfriend, too, Hermione. You haven't had one since Viktor Krum."
"Oh, I don't really—"
"He's a hard act to follow though," said Lavender. "Famous Quidditch player and all."
"Viktor and I weren't really… it wasn't that serious. He wasn't actually my boyfriend."
"Ohh," said Lavender, nodding. "I see. Are you still hung up on him?"
"No, of course not!" said Hermione. "He wanted to be more, but I wasn't ready for a relationship like that. Not then." Hermione turned purposefully back to her notes, and frowned at the mark she'd made across the parchment. She fetched her wand from her bag, and magicked the mark away.
Lavender patted her shoulder. "I understand." Lavender looked at Rose, and mouthed, 'Poor 'Mione!' Rose could only shake her head at Lavender. Poor, oblivious Lavender.
The portrait hole opened again, and Ron appeared. He saw them, and ambled over. "This looks like trouble," he said, stopping at the end of their table by Hermione. He put his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels. "What are you all doing?"
"Talking about you, mate!" said Dean, grinning.
Ron's eyebrows furrowed, and a smile started playing around his mouth. "What about me?"
"Apparently you're dreamy," said Dean.
Ron blinked at him, and then flushed red. "I'm what?" He looked at Hermione, Rose, Ginny, and then Hermione again. Hermione kept her head down, eyes locked on her notes, but not moving her quill one inch. Rose wished Hermione would look up, and see the hopeful look on Ron's face.
Lavender giggled. "Dean, you were supposed to wait until we weren't around."
"Sorry, Lav," said Dean. "I don't know how it works." Ginny elbowed him, and he grinned at her.
Lavender was blushing too, but carried it off with bravado. She rose from her chair, and walked past Ron. As she did, she touched his arm, trailing her fingers up his bicep, and Ron stared at her. Lavender winked, and sashayed away. Ron watched her go, mouth agape.
"Oy," said Ginny. "Stop drooling, and sit down."
Ron flushed a deeper red, turning something approaching maroon, and slid into the seat Lavender had vacated.
"What just happened?" he asked.
"Lavender wants in your pants," said Dean.
"She what?" said Ron.
"Dean!" said Ginny.
"What?" Dean said, holding up his hands. "You all saw what I just did. His pants. She wants in them."
"Let's stop talking about my brother's pants," said Ginny, winkling her nose.
"Yeah, tell me what she said later," said Ron.
"Sure thing, mate," said Dean.
Hermione stood abruptly, and started packing up her things. "I think I'll go to bed," she said.
Ron started, and then reached out like he would touch her arm, before pulling his hand back. "Hermione," said Ron. "I wanted to talk to you… about what happened in Potions…"
"It's fine, Ron," she said, not looking at him. She stuffed her books haphazardly into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. "Goodnight, everyone." She hastily walked away, and climbed the staircase out of sight.
"It's early though," said Ron, looking at the empty stairwell. "She's really angry with me, isn't she?"
Rose shook her head. "I don't think she's mad at you, Ron. I'd better go check on her though."
Ron looked morose, and dropped his head onto his folded arms on the tabletop.
"I'll come too," said Ginny. She sneakily caressed the back of Dean's neck, and he smiled at her, though Ron likely wouldn't have noticed if she'd kissed Dean at that moment, and the girls went up to the dormitory.
Hermione was slumped back on the foot of her bed, bag dumped carelessly, with books and parchment spilling all over the floor. Hermione would be horrified by the wrinkled parchments when she noticed later.
"I hate him," she announced, and Rose and Ginny climbed onto the bed to sit beside her. They put their heads onto each of her shoulders.
"He's horrible," said Ginny.
"The worst," said Rose.
"Really though," said Ginny, "he's gross, and you should have a crush on someone else."
Hermione flushed, and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so obvious, aren't I?"
"Only to us," said Rose, assuringly. "Dean and Lavender had no clue."
"Ron doesn't know, does he?" Hermione asked, pitifully.
Ginny snorted. "Please. Ron is oblivious to everything."
"Boys are awful. I hate boys." Hermione groaned aloud, and covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, why do I like him so much?"
Rose patted Hermione's hair. "There, there, 'Mione."
"And Lavender!" said Hermione shrilly, throwing her hands in the air. "Lavender likes him! How dare Lavender like him, too!"
"She's a cow," said Ginny.
"She's prettier than me," said Hermione in a small voice, looking upset.
Rose gasped. "She is not!"
"She is."
"You're smarter," said Ginny. "Lavender is dumb as bricks."
"Ugh!" said Hermione, throwing up her hands. "Look at what he's doing to me! I'm insecure! I'm whining! I'm jealous! This is horrible. I'm better than this!"
Rose nodded, and patted her hair. "It's ok, Hermione. We can trash Lavender for awhile if it will make you feel better."
Hermione subsided, and curled into herself. "We shouldn't."
"She's a dumb blonde," said Ginny promptly.
"She has a funny cowlick," said Rose.
It wasn't long before they ran out of mean things to say about Lavender, and had to start making things up, if only to make each other laugh.
"…I bet she wears Martin Miggs panties."
"Her boobs are probably fake."
Hermione snorted loudly, and then clapped her hands to her face with wide eyes. Rose and Ginny laughed, until Hermione started laughing with them.
"We're terrible people," said Hermione, wiping tears from her eyes.
"That's why I like you both so much," said Ginny, squeezing Hermione, and petting Rose's hair. "Cause we're terrible."
"Me too," said Rose, laughing, and hugging Hermione tight.
Hermione groaned. "You both are squeezing me too much."
"No such thing," said Ginny. "You need more hugs."
Rose agreed, and they piled on, and hugged Hermione tightly, while she pretended to push them away, and failed to hide her wide smiles.
:: :: :: ::
Rose missed Draco, for all she has seen him in classes, and across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table at meals. He even spoke to her briefly in Potions that afternoon. However, Pansy Parkinson sat beside him at every meal, and every time she touched his arm, or pressed herself close to him it drove Rose crazy. She wanted to scream with how jealous she felt. Pansy Parkinson, with her green tipped fingernails all over Draco's person. Draco allowing the touches, though never encouraging them - at least that he let Rose see. She was losing it. Next thing she knew she would be throwing a tantrum, tearing her hair out, and joining Hermione in wallowing over boys mistreating them. The worst part was that Rose didn't even have the assurance anymore that Draco only wanted to be with her. She had put on a ban on kissing and romance in general, and for all Rose knew Draco was getting his fix with Pansy, and Rose was just some kind of pawn that he was stringing along. She knew better in her heart, but her head was full of doubts and jealousy and every other self-hating thought it could dredge up. So it was a relief when Friday rolled around, and she could talk to him again.
She slipped out of the dormitory at a quarter to midnight, wrapped up in her Invisibility Cloak, and arrived in the trophy room with minutes to spare. The moon was hidden behind clouds tonight, and the room was much darker as a consequence. The trophies were dark silhouettes, no more than a dull gleam here and there. Rose sat in the window, and was bemused at the way she cast no shadow in the meager light spilling through the window onto the flagstones. She held her hand out of the cloak, and watched its disembodied shape cast shadows on the floor.
Somewhere a distant clock struck midnight, and Rose strained to count the chimes. They faded away, and still Rose waited.
And waited.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she grew bored of sitting in the window, and making shadow puppets. She got to her feet and walked carefully around the room. She peered closely at trophies, trying to read what they were for or who they'd be awarded to, but it was too dark to make them out.
She started to wonder how long she would wait for Draco. She wondered if he had been held up, or if he had forgotten their meeting altogether. She wondered if he was with Pansy. She wondered what they were doing. She wondered if Pansy had been successful in making Draco, 'keep up his cover.' She wondered if she was a fool. She wished she wore a watch. She had no notion of how long she had been waiting, but knew it must be more than twenty minutes.
How long would she wait?
Maybe he would still come, she reasoned. Maybe he had been caught by Filch. Maybe he had fallen asleep. Maybe he had been delayed by his friends. Maybe he had been delayed by Pansy.
Rose went to the doorway closer to the Slytherin dormitory, where Draco usually entered the room, and looked for him. There was no movement. She carefully moved out onto the landing, and looked to the moving staircases. All was still at this time of night. No one was traveling.
Rose sighed to herself, and heard the clock chime again. Twelve thirty. She felt a flash of irritation, and her dark thoughts fanned the spark into outright anger. She had waited long enough. She swept the cloak around her, and went back to her dormitory.
When she got back, she put the cloak back inside her trunk, and dug out the map. Everyone else was sleeping, unaware of her trip. She settled back inside the closed curtains of her four poster bed, and lit up her wand. A few taps and a gentle murmur, and she was looking for Draco's dot. She didn't find it anywhere. Not in the crowded Slytherin dormitory. Not roaming the halls. Not in the trophy room. No where. It was like he wasn't even in the school.
"What the hell?" she whispered.
:: :: :: ::
When she woke in the morning, she checked the map again, and Draco's dot was inside the Slytherin dormitory, alongside Blaise, Vincent, and Greg's dot. It seemed Theo Nott was in the shower. Rose frowned. Where had Draco gone last night? Had he actually left the school?
She knew, from forays Sirius had taken her on in third year, that there were many hidden passageways in and out of the school. Some were blocked off, or had been discovered over the years, but she knew of one that led to the basement of Honeydukes, and of course the passageway from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack was still there, if not easily accessible.
Had Draco found one of these passages and then left the school grounds to… do something?
Rose frowned at Draco's dot on the map, and hoped he could feel her displeasure, because he'd be getting a taste of it later, if she could manage it.
She watched his dot all day for an opening to ambush him, and grew even more furious that he'd made her resort to actual stalking. He had breakfast late, in the company of Pansy and Blaise. He skipped lunch, and Rose couldn't find his dot anywhere, but it was possible that she just missed it, as the map was swarming with dots and wiggling banners, and it was hard to to find individuals if they were in a crowd. He was with Pansy again at dinner, looking harassed. Rose watched from across the hall as he snapped at Pansy, and shook off her hand on his arm, before stalking from the room. Pansy looked like she would either hex him in the back, or burst into tears. She opted to cry, and was consoled by her friend, Daphne Greengrass.
Jackpot.
Rose told her friends she would see them later, and followed him.
He wasn't in the Entrance Hall, so Rose pulled out the map and quickly found him heading up the staircases. She was surprised, as she had expected him to retreat into the dungeons, not to book it up three flights of stairs and still climbing. Rose followed. He went all the way up to the seventh floor, and she entertained the cheering thought that maybe he was going to see Dumbledore, as the Headmaster's office was in the same direction. But he stopped well before that, and began to pace.
Rose looked up with a gasp. She folded the map mostly closed, and started to run, because she knew where he was going!
The hallway was empty when she reached the seventh floor, but she kept running, right up to the unobtrusive door that had appeared in the wall. It was slowly closing, but Rose plowed into it, feeling a sense of victory, and barged right in after him.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed. He spun around at the racket she made, and his eyes widened at the sight of her.
Rose laughed, breathing hard. She hadn't run like that in ages, and was rather giddy now. "Caught you," she said.
"Rose! You can't be here! Did anyone see you?" He turned anxious eyes to the door, as it shut with a click.
"Wow," said Rose. Now that she was inside the room, she was astonished at what she saw. The room was enormous; high arched windows spilled the last rays of sunlight into the room. The ceiling so high she couldn't see it, as it disappeared into darkness, and who knew how far the room itself went in any direction. She couldn't see any far walls, and didn't think she would have seen any, even if the aisles and rows, and piles and piles of junk weren't in the way. The room was absolutely filled with stuff, like a demented flea market. There were armoires, books, bottles of potions, rolled up rugs, a group of umbrellas all stuffed into a tall jar. There were several rusty swords, and a axe that looked like it was stained with blood. There were Fanged Frisbees hovering about, and other items that were on Filch's list of forbidden items.
"What is this place?" she asked.
"You should go," said Draco. "You shouldn't be here."
"Nor should you, I'd wager," said Rose, walking up to a cabinet and peering inside. It was crammed with sherry bottles. One rolled out and crashed at Rose's feet. She jumped back, right into Draco.
"It's called the Room of Hidden Things," said Draco, resigned. He flicked his wand, and the glass disappeared.
The items started to make more sense. Forbidden joke items, alcohol bottles, bloodied weapons. Furniture that had been bespelled wrong and hidden away. Bottles of wickedly gleaming potions. Not to mention all sorts of things generations, a millennia, of Hogwarts students would secret away.
"Wow," she said aloud, and set off down an aisle to explore. Draco followed, giving up on the idea of dissuading her from staying in this room with him. He had to know that arguing with her was useless.
She peered into cabinets, and fingered glittering trinkets as she came across them. There was a pretty hat pin topped with a glittering crystal that Rose was tempted to take for herself. She saw a selection of Filibuster's fireworks, an unopened Skiving Snackbox, and a bust of Shakespeare. Another cabinet revealed a birdcage with a skeleton inside it. She shut the door quickly, disgusted, and turned to Draco. He looked like a sword was hanging over his head, and Rose was here to deliver the blow.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked.
He looked away, and was silent.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you show up in the trophy room last night? I waited for you."
"There was a party in the common room. I couldn't get away."
The Slytherin common room had been crowded last night. It was possible that Draco's dot had been lost in the crush. Rose hummed. "I imagine Pansy is keeping a close eye on you."
"How did you know?"
"Because you're pulling away from her, and she'll do anything to hold onto you."
Draco looked like this insight into the female mind was revolutionary. "I may have miscalculated with Pansy."
Rose turned away, and walked down the aisle a bit more, finding something to distract her from the pain. "I suppose you have to 'keep up your cover' a bit more than you expected."
"I don't like it," he said.
Rose rolled her eyes again. "I'm sure she's wondering why you don't just break up with her. You're hurting her, Draco."
"I know!" He raked his fingers through his hair. "I know. I don't want to hurt her, but I don't know what the best thing to do is."
Rose sighed dramatically, and threw a powdered wig at him. He dodged by stepping to one side. "You ask for help, you great big—"
"I can't. There's no one—"
"Ask me!"
Draco gave her a challenging look. "You want to help me give just enough to the Dark Lord to keep him satisfied until I come up with a plan to escape him? You want to help me help the Dark Lord, Rose? You?"
Rose shifted uncomfortably. "I want to help you. What are you doing?"
He rolled his eyes heavenward, and threw up his hands. "Fine. Just. Fine." He walked back the way they came, and took a turn at the next intersection. Rose followed, and he stopped at a cabinet. "This is what I'm working on."
Rose looked from him to the cabinet, and opened the door to peer inside. It was empty.
"What is it?"
"It's a Vanishing Cabinet."
"What does it do?" she asked. Aside from the obvious.
Draco explained how this cabinet had a twin. Montague had gotten stuck inside this one at Hogwarts for days, and had heard conversations in Borgin and Burkes, and Draco had put two and two together and somehow come up with Vanishing Cabinet.
Rose slapped his arm. "That's why you were in that shop—"
"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "That's why I was there. I thought if I could get this one to work properly—"
"Then you could use it to get your parents out of the manor!"
Draco nodded. "But it's broken. The spells were weakening before Montague got stuck, and when they pulled him out, the spellwork was ruined. I've got to figure out how to fix it."
"How far have you gotten?"
"I looked up Vanishing spells in the library, and I tried to send things through. It doesn't go well." Draco selected a tiny glass vase from a nearby pile of junk, and put it inside the cabinet. He closed the door, waited a moment, and opened it again. The vase had been crushed into a neat pile of sand. Rose imagined a similar fate with a human being and shuddered.
"All right, so you've got some work to do yet," she said, bracingly. "How can I help?"
Draco shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. It's too early for me to know what I need help with. I need help with everything at this point. But since you know as much as I do about how to fix this cabinet… well."
Rose shrugged. "We can learn. Do you have any books I can read or—"
Draco gave her look that could only be described as soft. He took hold of her hand, and pulled her in close. She swallowed, because this kind of behavior was not allowed, but she wasn't sure she had the will to stop him. He leaned in close, so close she could smell his cologne, and her eyes fluttered shut. He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. She trembled.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm glad you followed me. This is a whole lot less awful with you here."
Rose let out the breath she'd been holding in a shaky rush, and summoned a smile. "You're welcome."