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-three: In which Rose is the centre of attention
The dreaded Ministry party took place on the 18th April, in a beautiful Georgian mansion somewhere outside of York. Rose examined the building with a deer-in-headlights kind of expression on her face, and the feeling of having been thrown into a Jane Austen novel in her gut.
She had indeed bought the dress Leta had shown her, golden and glittering, with its low waist and plunging back. She had also looked into charming her hair into a more appropriate hairdo than her usual bob, and had settled for a head of curls with a headband on which shone the same golden glitters than on her dress. She'd charmed her tiny purse so that it could hold her wand and a vial of dittany – one was never too prudent – before she had walked out the door.
Theseus and Leta had been waiting for her on the pavement, oblivious to the passing Muggles' lingering looks. Not that they appeared out of place, but both were so jaw-dropping gorgeous that they attracted stares like magnets.
Leta had chosen a burgundy dress that, once again, hugged her frame flatteringly. It had the same plunging back as Rose's, but the patterns on the fabric looked like they were moving with her, like shimmering water, or wine, rather. She wore a headpiece of lace that highlighted her high cheekbones, and had painted her lips blood red once again.
Theseus wore a suit, like any other Muggle man in such an occasion. He looked very dapper, with his height, build and wonderful grey-green eyes on full display. Rose noticed that, on the lapel of his jacket, he wore a pin in the shape of a badger. Ever the proud Hufflepuff.
"Rose, you look just absolutely magnificent," was Leta's greeting, along with a fake peck on her cheek.
Rose smiled, and blushed a bit. "Thanks to you, actually. I'm just helpless when it comes to twenties' fashion…" Leta's eyes glinted, in interest, maybe, but Theseus' amused smirk made Rose turn to him instead. "You look rather handsome, brother. Didn't think you had it in you."
"Very funny, Rose," he countered with an eye roll. "Come now, or we'll be late."
"Merlin forbid we are late at an event where you'll be able to parade around…"
Theseus huffed before offering her his arm under the cheeky smile of his fiancée, who winked at Rose before they walked to the Disapparition point and flew away to Yorkshire.
Leta had been correct in her assumption that her fiancé would be whisked away as soon as they stepped through the door. Rose hadn't had time to look around at the sublime ballroom before a very pompous-looking man walked to them, bowed the head at all three and asked Theseus to follow him to another pompous-looking git.
Leta sighed, grabbed Rose's hand to place it in the crook of her arm as she usually did nowadays, and walked further into the room. "Told you."
"It's just incredible that he'd be pulled away like that as soon as he's arrived, like some sort of puppet or other." Rose's pursed lips and flaming eyes showed her displeasure as she glared at the group of officials across the room. Many people gravitated that way, or tried to steal glances at whoever was the French Minister.
"It's the price to pay when you are a War Hero, I guess," Leta answered, as if it was a fatality.
"My parents and Uncle are War Heroes," Rose said without thinking, "and no one could tear them from their families even if they tried." She was seething, but when she turned to her companion for the night, she climbed down from her anger immediately, as Leta was staring at her with surprise and curiosity in her lovely dark eyes.
"You know, Theseus said very little about where you came from, Rose," the burgundy-clad woman said after a while, in a hushed voice. "I'd be honoured to hear it from you, if you ever wanted."
Rose stared back at her, a small smile forming on her lips. "Only if you do me the same honour, one day."
Leta smiled a bit sadly, but nodded. "We've got ourselves a deal."
"Miss Lestrange!" came a call a few minutes later. A tall, stern-looking gentleman with observant eyes walked to them, a grey-haired and proud woman clad in midnight blue on his arm. "Glad to see you. I suppose your fiancé has already been taken as tribute to the French Minister?"
Leta chuckled. "He has indeed." She turned to Rose, and patted her hand. "I do not think you have met my future sister-in-law, Miss Rose Scamander. Rose, this is Mr Torquil Travers, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and his wife, Madeleine."
Mr Travers' eyes narrowed, while his wife smiled. "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" she said. "Many a paper has been trying to catch you unawares and describe your likeness, but no one could have guessed that you were so beautiful, my dear."
Rose flushed, both under the compliment and under the scrutiny of Mr Travers. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Torquil, dear, please stop trying to frighten the poor lamb, and be a dear, grab me a glass of Giggle-Water, will you?" Madeleine Travers' smile turned mischievous as she gently pushed her husband towards the waiter hovering nearby, and she turned back to Rose. "You must excuse him. He has a tendency to mistrust everyone upon first meeting them. It's work-related, of course. He sees Grindelwald followers everywhere…" She frowned. "And of course, there is the matter of your sudden arrival, Miss Rose."
"Yes, I have made quite a mess of things by concealing myself for so long," she answered quickly. "I should have agreed with my brothers and revealed that Mrs Scamander had adopted me as soon as it happened. I guess I was scared that they'd turn me away…"
Leta squeezed her arm, but it wasn't in comfort. It was regarding the lies spun around Rose's existence, she knew it.
Mrs Travers didn't take the bait, or look suspicious, and smiled again. "You truly are a lovely young woman, Miss Rose. I hope we will see each other again. Miss Lestrange, please pass on my regards to Theseus, if you catch him. I will join my husband now and save him from the dreadful Mister Prince." She bowed the head and walked towards where Mr Travers was indeed in conversation with a black-haired, mousy-looking gentleman who visibly annoyed him greatly.
Leta turned to Rose as soon as Mrs Travers had walked away. "You need to be careful what you say here. Everything will be recorded in their minds. Madeleine seems harmless enough, but she was a Ravenclaw, and some say she has the Sight." She sighed, and plastered a mask of cordiality on her face once more. "Let's grab a drink, and find an empty table. I'm already longing for home, and we've been here ten minutes…"
The evening stretched on a bit. At first, most people talked to each other, went from person to person, sharing smiles, forced or not, and drinks. Then, about an hour after Rose and Leta had chosen a table away from the crowd, an enchanted orchestra started playing, and some guests started dancing. Waltzing, actually, and only once, displaying a great knowledge of modern Charleston. Leta told Rose it was a Muggle dance, which is probably why it wasn't played again.
Some people wandered to their table to greet Leta and stare pointedly at Rose as if she was some new creature to be ogled. She took it all with a set jaw and a tendency to bury her nose into her glass of punch, and didn't think she'd be able to remember half the names that had been thrown at her that night.
Leta found it amusing that she was bothered by her new celebrity. She didn't know, of course, that Rose had been the centre of attention since she'd been born, the child of two War Heroes, expected to do great things, to exceed her parents, and doomed to fail.
She understood more than ever the exasperated look on Uncle Harry's face whenever someone walked up to him in the street to shake hands and lick his boots. Figuratively, thank Merlin.
All in all, Rose wanted nothing more than to go home and forget all about this party. As did Leta, she was certain. The other witch looked about to bolt at any given moment. Her new friend suspected that she hadn't already left only because Theseus wouldn't be able to know.
Speaking of which, Theseus finally disentangled himself from the two Ministers another hour later, red in the face and looking particularly bored. He grabbed a Firewhiskey on his way to their table, eyes glued to Leta as if to convey a silent message.
He sat between both witches, his back to the crowd, and sighed deeply. "Remind me never to do this again," he said in a hiss.
Leta smirked as she grabbed his hand to lace their fingers. "I have, several times already, if you recall. You always come back."
"I must be one of the biggest masochists in History, then," he smiled, turning his gaze to Rose, and raising a brow. "Well, sister, you look as entertained as I am. Isn't the party to your liking?"
She made a face. "Don't try to be funny, Theseus, you'll only fail."
He chuckled, and the laughter gave his face a boyish look that Rose found extremely fetching before she reminded herself that this was her 'brother', and she couldn't find him handsome. "What do you say, Letty? Should I punish my sister for her cheek?"
Leta grinned, mischievous glint back in her eyes. "Please, do."
Rose could only wonder what they meant until Theseus stood, kissed the back of Leta's hand, and outstretched his own towards her. "Care to dance, Rose?"
His grey-green eyes were glinting, with the drink he'd downed or his own mischief, she didn't know, but she snorted into her punch anyway. "Absolutely not."
"Too bad you don't have a choice, then," he said as he calmly took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
With a squeak that made Leta laugh, she tried to find her balance before glaring at her fake brother and following him reluctantly onto the dancefloor.
Theseus drew her into a waltz, unsurprisingly. He let her adjust to the dance, mindful to lead her gently at first, before being bolder into his steering of her around the room.
Rose tried to focus on her feet for a while. She hated the thought of stepping onto his toes; and she had been known to be an appalling dancer. Albus had tried to dance with her a few times before he'd declared her helpless; and even Scorpius had had to admit defeat.
Strangely enough, though, she wasn't making a fool of herself then. Theseus was more patient, perhaps, than her cousin and friend had been – a Hufflepuff to their Slytherin, no doubt – and he applied more or less force into his grip whenever he felt her sway too dangerously.
After a while, Rose relaxed, surprised, to say the least, that she wasn't making a complete arse of herself. And when she did relax, she noticed that many a gaze in the room or on the dancefloor was on her and her dance-partner and that many were whispering or pointing in their direction.
"It seems like, for once, I'm not the most interesting person in the room," Theseus whispered, making a shiver run up Rose's spine. His mouth had been closer to her ear than she'd expected. She had to be careful of her body's reaction to him, she realised with a shock.
"I'm not interesting in the slightest," she countered, "I'm just new. They'll get tired of staring in a minute."
"I doubt they will, Rosie," he said, earning himself a glare to his shoulder. "Not when you are dressed like this."
She pushed herself away a bit, enough to stare into his eyes, unsure what he'd meant. Instead of asking, she just said "Please don't call me Rosie. I hate it."
He tilted his head to the side, and it was so similar to Newt's own ticks that it helped her relax some more. "And what shall I call you, then, sister mine?"
Rose rolled her eyes. "Anything but Rosie."
"Mmh," he faked pondering. "What about 'Rosiekins'? Or 'Flower'? Or-"
"You are insufferable," she said, but couldn't help but smile. "Fine, then, call me 'Rosie'. It's the last horrifying of the bunch."
"How does Newton call you?" he asked in a small smile.
"He calls me 'Rose'. Like a normal person."
"Unfair," Theseus countered with a pout as the waltz slowed down and came to a close. "He calls me 'Theo' all the time."
Rose pulled away from him as soon as the music stopped, but she couldn't help but laugh whole-heartedly. Theseus followed suit as he led her back to Leta, who'd been patiently watching them dance.
"So? Did you enjoy your punishment?" the dark-haired witch asked immediately.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Absolutely not. That was the point, right?"
Leta's gaze held some sort of calculating expression to it; one Rose couldn't decipher but wanted to. Then she turned to her fiancé. "Dance with me, Scamander. And then we'll go home."
"Yes ma'am," he smiled softly before leading her away.
Rose, left alone at the table, watched them start of waltz around in a graceful way that showed how much they loved each other. Each step was in tune with their partner's, and they barely had to touch at all to be perfect dancers.
Somehow, it made her jealous.
And she didn't know what she was jealous of. Or if she truly wanted to know…