Disclaimer: I don't own Rose Granger-Weasley, Newt Scamander or any other character created by J.K. Rowling. My aim is merely to entertain and play around with them a little.

Chapter twenty-two: In which Rose attends a ball

Sometime later, Rose found a very giddy Newton Scamander in her bedroom. He'd let himself in during one of those long hours where she studied the various books she'd acquired. He was carrying a letter that seemed familiar to the young witch, although she didn't know why at first.

"Look what Professor Dippet sent me! So kind of him, since we've never met!"

Rose's brow furrowed as she took the letter from him. She realised it'd looked familiar because it came from Hogwarts. The crest shone bright in the sunlight, and the writing of the address was the exact same as in her future, which meant it'd be magicked and not actually written down.

'Dear Mr Scamander,' it read, 'Congratulations on the publishing of your book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The school board has found it a compelling read and has universally decided that, as of September 1927, it will be part of the curriculum for First Years. Please note that, if you are ever available for lectures, we are also interested in hosting them. With regards, Professor Armando Dippet, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Rose smiled throughout. She'd known, obviously, that Newt's book was going to make a rather impressive entrance into the school's curriculum as soon as it was published, but it was good to be witness to it, and to the joy and pride it brought to its author, who was so used to being mocked for what he did.

"It's amazing, Newt! Congratulations!"

He smiled wider, a slight pink tinge going to his cheeks, but as he got hold of the letter back, he frowned. Rose could see the cogs turning, and then, he met her gaze, as if a lightbulb had lit up in his brain. "You knew." He didn't let her acquiesce, and carried on. "That's how you knew so much about my creatures when we met."

"I studied your book when I was at school, yes," she nodded, a wide smile on her lips. "My brother Hugo has kept it by his bed since he was twelve. He's nineteen now. Or…he'd be, nineteen." Suddenly, the whole affair brought a gloomy atmosphere to the room, although it was a cause for celebration. Rose's breath caught in her throat, and her heart beat faster, but Newt shoved it all away by swiftly grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

"Come on, let's celebrate. I have cider in the cellar."

She laughed. Cider. The wildest thing he could think of drinking. Bless the lad.

Bunty joined them for a drink, all the while repeating over and over again how 'Mister Scamander' was ever so deserving of the fame and awards he was going to receive for his books, as Rose absent-mindedly petted Dougal, who'd yet again perched on her shoulders, and as Newt steered the baby Nifflers away from his glass. It sparkled. They liked sparkly things. Cider included.

Rose had just gone back to her room to try and finish a very boring chapter on seaweed when a bird landed on her window-sill. She'd left the window ajar in the spring brisk air.

It wasn't Queenie's usual brown owl, but a majestic falcon, with its regal and calculating look. Rose would have thought it'd been a mistake, if there hadn't been a letter attached to the bird's leg. Gently, she reached for it, mindful of the sharps talons and beak of the creature. It tilted its head, but remained still enough.

Unsure what to give the bird in lieu of payment or thanks, Rose bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she told the falcon, "I've got nothing for you." It seemed to have understood her and, with a rather angry call, it took flight again."

The letter was written in a feminine and curly writing Rose had begun to get herself intimately acquainted with. While she and Leta hadn't met again after that quite frankly disastrous first meeting, her future sister-in-law had soon after started a correspondence, at first apologizing for her handling of the situation, and asking more mundane questions. Sometimes, she managed to ask about Newt. Most of the times, she veered away from the topic, ignoring Rose's prompting each time.

Sighing, the red-haired witch opened the envelope, curious to see what Leta was writing about then.

'Dear Rose,

I believe we've agreed to a bit of shopping together, when we stumbled upon each other last time. What do you say to actually doing it? I'm in dire need of company, of female company, actually, and I do think we need to get better acquainted, for real this time.

I promise I will be on my best behaviour.

Please owl me back for a day and time. London is lovely at this time of year.

Kind regards,

Leta'

Rose sighed again, and squeezed her eyes shut. True, she'd promised Leta a day of shopping. The number of dresses she owned was of exactly three, and each Transfiguration made the fabric loose and frail. She needed new clothes. She also needed to spend time with someone else than Newt.

Despite their kind of rude first meeting, she knew that Leta wasn't a bad person. She didn't seem the type, unlike what her something-in-law Bellatrix. She'd apologized about her threatening Rose, and she was to marry Theseus, after all. There also was the slight curiosity in the Weasley witch that made her wonder exactly who Leta Lestrange was, and why so many people seemed as entranced by her as they appeared repulsed.

She grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled her answer quickly. Lylah the Fwooper was home, she was going to take advantage of it.

They met at the Leaky Cauldron on a rainy April morning. Leta was clad in a black dress that hugged her every curve, and wore a glamourous hairdo that Rose was immediately jealous of. Her lips were tinted blood red, and all in all, she was as gorgeous as she'd been weeks prior.

"Rose!" she greeted with a wide smile. She came to meet her and, to Rose's surprise, mimicked kissing her cheek in a familiar way. "I'm so sorry we picked a rainy day. It could have been such a joyful girls' day out!"

Rose's eyes widened at the enthusiasm of the other witch. She truly was strange. "We'll spend more time inside, anyway."

"True, true. Come on, now, let's start with Robes for All Occasions." She linked their arms as she'd done the first time around, ignored the frowns of the pub's other clients when they passed them, and headed towards the backyard and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Leta," Rose started as soon as they had stepped into the quiet street. The drizzle had made other shoppers flee, and she wasn't about to complain too much. "Why is everyone always looking at you funnily?"

Leta tensed, she sensed it, but she kept smiling. "That is a tale for another time. Now, more importantly," she stared at the younger witch with a studying look on her face, "do you always wear green or are you open to suggestions?"

The change in subject had Rose chuckle in shock.

Robes for All Occasions was Madam Malkin's without Madam Malkin. Before the stout woman had purchased the shop, it obviously had been named differently, but the interior was the exact same and tugged at Rose's heartstrings for a bit, before she concentrated on her companion for the day.

Leta was visibly trying to make her buy a dozen new dresses, which Rose couldn't afford, since she had only a few money left of the salary she'd earned in MACUSA. She flatly refused to ask Newt for a loan, especially since he was already housing and feeding her for free.

"Leta," she said at last, after the dark-haired witch had put aside a thirteenth gown, "I can't possibly buy all of that."

Leta turned to her, a perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. "Of course not. You're going to try them all on, though." After a pause, she added, "Have you never spend enough time in a clothes shop to try everything on?"

Rose shook her head. "Not really."

"It's the whole point of it!" Leta seemed shocked, grabbed a fourteenth dress, and pulled Rose towards the changing rooms. "Come on, I'll show you."

In the end, it truly was fun enough to try all these new shiny things on, even if Rose did only buy three out of the fourteen.

Before she could move to the counter to pay, though, Leta waved another very different dress in front of her eyes. "Try this on, please."

Rose eyed the garment. It was a beautiful evening dress, golden in colour, with a low waistline and billowing skirts, and a plunging back that stopped just shy of the backside. It was beautiful, but too formal. "Why would I-?"

"Because I'm inviting you to a Ministry party, and you need something to wear." She'd said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, but, for the first time since they'd met, Leta actually let her mask slip. For a split second, she appeared unsure of herself, or of what Rose would say or agree to.

She grabbed the dress, and Leta's arm. "Tell me all about it." She closed the curtain of the changing rooms on them both, and stared at the petite witch until she spilled the beans.

"Fine," Leta breathed, avoiding Rose's eyes. "Theseus has been invited to some Ministry party. There's one every week or so, he's always invited, War Hero and all that, but this one he can't say no to. I'm going as his plus one, but I'd like you to come as well."

"Why? What is it about?"

"The French Minister for Magic is coming. He knows Theseus, they met during the War." Rose's eyes widened. It was easy to forget that her 'elder brother' had fought in the trenches like a Muggle… "Thing is, whenever he's invited for this sort of thing, I barely see him at all. He's always whisked away by some official or other, and I'm left alone. So…" She cut short, knowing Rose would follow.

She did, and furrowed her brow. "You want me to be there so you wouldn't be alone."

"And so the women would have someone else to gossip about than me."

"Why is everyone always looking at you weirdly?" Rose sighed. "Please don't elude me, this time."

In the intimate space of the changing room, Leta couldn't back away. Physically she could, of course, but somehow, she understood that, if she did, Rose wouldn't trust her. "You are so pure, so nice. You've never once said anything about the tone of my skin."

Rose's blue eyes widened some more. "Your skin? What's wrong with your skin?"

She'd understood before Leta answered, but the words were still completely stupid. "I'm half-Black. My mother was Senegalese." There was a hint of something in her eyes that said of more but Rose didn't want to pry too deep. She didn't want to be too eager to decipher the 'Leta riddle.'

Still, she rolled her eyes. "The idea of race is idiotic. You are either human or not, no matter the colour of your skin, the country you were born, or whether you have magic or not. If these people look at you funny because you are of mixed heritage, then they are just plainly stupid."

Leta's smile was genuine and beautiful. "Well, many do not have the same ideals as you, my dear Rose. So, about the party?"

The red-head smiled back, and made to take her current dress off to try the beautiful golden one on. "Alright, I'm coming. But you'll owe me one."

"How very unlike Gryffindors to keep tabs," Leta joked.