Chapter 2

How long do you want to go on being the person you think you are…
…Let me know if you ever change your mind
about leaving, leaving me behind
or at least tell yourself
before you find yourself on that train
winding its way through the mountains…

- Ron Padgett [How Long]

In the end, Rose decided to make the most of her wedding. It was almost an enjoyable—if childish—way of saying 'fuck you' to her own broken heart, to Remus, and even to Severus. She had never felt more beautiful than in her wedding dress and veil and adored the constant attention she received and the looks of the men, as well as some women, in the party who clearly appreciated her lowcut bodice. She was young, she was desirable, and today was for her. It also helped that the house elves had woken her with a morning mimosa, and she hadn't stopped drinking since.

The ceremony was absolutely beautiful and was held in an outdoor orchard full of lush greenery and covered in twinkling lights and floating lanterns that illuminated the area with a warm glow as dusk fell. The ceremony was scheduled to begin just before sunset and the few clouds in the sky were backlit brilliantly by the setting sun. Just as Narcissa had said, the ceremony was a private affair with no more than fifty guests. Rose only wished that Sam and Ava could have been there for it but hadn't made the mistake of putting her mother in the awkward position of saying no to her. Cornelius Fudge tipped his lime green bowler hat at her while she walked down the aisle, her arm wrapped around her father's and she smiled beautifully at him.

She had never seen Severus Snape—who was in attendance out of obligation to Lucius—looking more sour, and he didn't stay for the reception. Rather than his presence making her feel worse about the situation, it made her feel pleasantly vindictive. Maybe if he had truly loved her, he might have been standing up with her rather than watching her pass beyond his reach. His actions towards Remus at the end of term had incensed her to such a degree that any love she'd once felt for him made her burn in fury and embarrassment. Her feelings about it were so strong that she still hadn't reached out to him for occlumency lessons despite Dumbledore's warning.

Rose had never seen Stefan Dolohov look so handsome. His dress robes were a dark gold color stitched with abstract swirls in a lighter golden thread that shimmered when he moved. The lining and insides of them were a deep midnight black inlaid with tiny diamonds that twinkled like stars. The color made his normally ashen eyes look quite green and brought a warmth to his pale skin. She could tell he'd also been drinking by the flush to his cheeks and, despite their hands trembling while they clutched each other at the altar, he gave her a reassuring wink and grin that made her smile. When Draco came forward with the rings, and they slid them onto each other's fingers, Rose could almost imagine that they were in love. And when it finally came time to kiss her, he made a great show of dipping her and allowing his lips to linger on hers to the applause and hoots of the audience. With the warmth of alcohol in her stomach and the flash of lights from the photographers, Rose grinned and kissed him back.

It was to her own surprise that it was not her first dance with Stefan that made her eyes tear up, but the one she shared with her father. Lucius took her into his arms as though she were the most delicate of creatures, and she laid her head on his chest, his chin resting atop her head. Rose remembered the year she had first come home. At first, he had been quite distant with her as though unsure how to react to the tiny redheaded thing they had brought into the manor. Then one day when he had overheard her crying in her room, he'd picked her up and held her close to his chest until she had nodded off to sleep. It had taken months for the night terrors to go away, but, each time they occurred, he would pick her up and take her to the lounge and sit her in his lap while he read her stories from Beedle the Bard until she fell asleep in his lap. She had been so small then. But somehow, she had never outgrown his embrace. And as tears trickled down her cheeks from the memory, she felt a similar wetness drip onto her forehead from his own eyes, and the two held each other even tighter.

By the time the reception was over just after midnight, her world was spinning and not just from dancing. Gold and silver sparks shot from the wandtips of their guests, and the pair ran under them to a waiting limousine and clambered inside, waving goodbye to their guests. Rose and Stefan both collapsed into seats beside each other, exchanging drunken smiles. Their chauffeur pressed a button on the dash, and the limousine disappeared from view as it took off into the sky. With the moonroof down, and the cold wind rushing in at them, Rose felt giddy and energized.

The limousine pulled up alongside the window to their apartment and the door folded down rather than opening sideways, causing the glass to magically vanish when it touched the windowsill. Rose let out a breath of surprise when Stefan swept her up in his arms and carried her over the door-turned-ramp. She had a moment to look around at the twinkling lights of the London nightlife before they were in their bedroom, and he was setting her down. Rose stumbled a bit, and he steadied her.

"I'll get ussssome water, shallll I," he slurred with a smile, walking out of the room. Rose was too drunk to take in much of the furnished room but was alert enough to notice that the lighting was dimmed to low levels and rose petals had been scattered on the bed. A bottle of champagne was sitting on ice on one of the night stands along with two champagne flutes. Rose giggled, imagining that this too had been prepared for them by Narcissa and Margot. It would have been very romantic if she thought she was going to get any tonight—really a shame because the alcohol and adrenaline had made her quite horny.

"Here you go," Stefan said, returning and offering her a glass. Rose chugged it quickly and walked over to the champagne bottle and began opening it. He raised a brow at her. "Oh?"

"It'sss our wedding night, might as well. Already gonna be hungofer," she said with a shrug, and he grinned and acquiesced, accepting the flute she handed him. He began rifling through one of the dressers in search of more comfortable wear, and Rose could immediately tell something was wrong.

"Ahhh, your clothessseem not to have made it," he said with a blush, looking at her apologetically. "That would be my mother'sss doing."

"What a bitchh," Rose said, sipping her drink unconcernedly. Stefan rolled his eyes at the response but didn't disagree and pulled out a black t-shirt and gray plaid boxers.

"You can use thessse iff you don't mind," he offered. Rose set the champagne flute down and accepted the clothes, gathering up her substantial train and moving to the bathroom.

As soon as she reached back to unlace her dress, she knew she had a problem. Her fingers felt like they belonged to someone else and the complex lacing and loops quickly defeated her. Poking her head out of the door to ask Stefan if he could help, she blushed a deep red upon seeing that he had his back to her and was currently in a state of undress. Rose silently slipped back into the bathroom, and fanned her hot face with her hands, trying not to dwell on the sight of his naked body. When she guessed that he had finished, she cautiously peeked back out.

"Stefan," she called shyly, and he turned and glanced at her, now fully clothed in comfy checkered pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. "I, uh, I think I need help to get out of thiss."

"Oh, sshure," he answered quickly, coming to her aid.

Rose pulled her hair out of the way, her stomach churning, and held the front of her dress up while he struggled with the corset. She tried not to shiver when his cool knuckles brushed her bare skin, feeling guilty by how aroused she was. At last the dress hung free, and he left her to change. Rose hung the dress on a padded hanger that was in the room and slid on his boxers and shirt. It was not as baggy on her as Remus' had been since she and Stefan were much closer in size but was still plenty comfy. Rose pulled sparkling bobby pins out of her hair and ran her fingers through the curls. She made the executive choice not to bother washing her face tonight and deal with the consequences in the morning.

She was about to walk back out to the bedroom when what she'd thought was simply nervousness became discernable as outright nausea. Rose just made it to the toilet in time to begin vomiting into its porcelain depths. Occupied as she was with clutching the toilet seat for dear life while her stomach heaved, she didn't notice Stefan return. Not until he was gently pulling her hair out of her face and holding it back for her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

"Glad we got you out of your dress first," he said, and Rose would have snorted if she hadn't been worried about bile going up her nose. After a few minutes, it seemed that her stomach had no more food or alcohol to give up—this of course didn't prevent her from dry heaving for several more. She felt a damp cloth being pressed to her sweaty forehead and took the washcloth from Stefan with shaky fingers, first wiping tears from her eyes and then carefully cleaning off the corners of her mouth.

"Ugh, s—sorry," she managed to breathe, moving to the sink to brush her teeth vigorously.

"I've done my fair share of that," he assured her. "Will probably do it tonight if you're intent on us drinking the ressst of that champagne."

Rose waved a hand at him dismissively.

"Fuck the champagne."

Laughing, the pair stumbled over to the bed, clutching at each other to walk straight. Rose fell back into it a little too hard, pulling Stefan with her. He landed with an 'oof' next to her and flower petals scattered everywhere. Reaching over, he moved a strand of hair out of her face and the two stared at each other for a long moment.

"I, uh, I suppose I'll take the other room," Stefan said struggling to sit up.

"Stay," Rose said before she could stop herself. He glanced down at her in surprise while she blushed furiously. "If you don't mind. I just… I don't want to be alone tonight."

With a smile and a nod, he pulled back the covers for her to slide under and turned off the lights. Stefan quickly slid into the sheets beside her, and Rose laid her head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, the ache in her chest subsided while she listened to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and nuzzled into his embrace.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Dolohov," he whispered before the pair drifted off to sleep.

Rose cracked open bloodshot eyes to the sound of an irritating buzzing. She was laying on her stomach, her limbs splayed wildly across the bed. Sitting up, her world spun, and she groaned, holding her aching head in her hands. Glancing over, she saw that Stefan must have rolled over some time in the night and was quietly snoring into a pillow, still deep asleep. Pulling herself out of bed when the buzzing began again, Rose slipped out of the bedroom and made her way across the obnoxiously bright living area towards the front door. On her way, she saw that both her wand and Stefan's lay on the kitchen countertop. Blinking hazily, she opened the door irritably.

"What the he—hello Damien," Rose bit back her disgruntled greeting hastily, smiling awkwardly at the man. She and Stefan hadn't discussed what she should expect regarding his relationship with Damien, but in hindsight, it wasn't all that surprising that he'd turn up today. He was dressed not in robes, but in casual slacks, a soft pink shirt, and a long black cardigan, his blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail, and he was carrying a tote bag. He looked tired, and there were circles under his eyes.

"Hello Rose," he said stiffly, his eyes taking in her appearance. Rose felt her face warming when she realized that she was still wearing Stefan's shirt and boxers.

"Please come in," she said quickly, stepping to the side and shutting the door behind him. Moving to the kitchen counter he set down the tote and pulled out a carton of eggs, bacon, a bottle of orange juice, coffee grounds, and a small bottle of pepper-up potion.

"I thought you two might be hungry," he told her, looking around the room. "Nice place."

"Thank you," Rose said, sliding the bottle of pepper-up potion towards herself and taking a hefty gulp.

"Did you have a good night?" He asked, but the polite question was a bit cold.

"I puked," she said dryly, and his lips quirked at this. Rose gave him an amused look that clearly communicated that she knew he wasn't feeling bad for her. His grin widened, and he shrugged unapologetically.

"Interesting pajama choice," he said, once again looking over his lover's clothes on her body.

"Stefan thinks that my dearest mother-in-law kept my own clothes from making it to our apartment," Rose told him irritably.

"Ah, I see. I've never met her, but I've heard enough to believe that," he said with markedly less tension in his voice and began looking through cabinets for glasses.

"Do his parents know… that he likes men, I mean? Otherwise I don't understand why she'd do that."

"It's a bit… complicated. I'm not sure he's ever told them outright, but they'd be fools not to suspect. His grandmother was the only one of his family who definitely knew," Damien said with a sniff, pulling a cup out and filling it with orange juice.

"I didn't realize he'd told anyone in his family," Rose said with a surprised look, spinning the vine pattered ring on her right hand around her finger thoughtfully.

"Just her. A truly wonderful woman. She passed away last June—I've never seen him so upset. Not since Christina died," he informed her reminiscently. Rose was shocked by this information. When Stefan had given her his grandmother's ring last fall, he'd not mentioned how recently she'd passed away. She wanted to ask Damien more about Stefan's grandmother, but his last sentence won out in her battle of questions.

"Christina?"

"His cousin. They were in the same year at Hogwarts and engaged since childhood. I didn't know her very well, because she was sorted into Slytherin, and I'm not sure what happened—he doesn't like to talk about it. She was only fifteen when she died, and I had graduated by then."

"That's awful," Rose mumbled at the countertop. "Was his grandmother's passing unexpected as well?"

"I think so," Damien answered, his face coloring slightly. "We, ah, reconnected at the funeral. He and I hadn't spoken for a few years before that."

Recalling Stefan's recounting of their spotty relationship history, Rose wisely didn't pry further and began busying herself in the kitchen. She was a bit surprised he was being so forthright with her about his knowledge of Stefan. Rose imagined it was a combination of his trying to show off and show how much better he knew Stefan than her and also not having anyone to talk to about his on and off lover for over a decade. She picked up the coffee grounds and moved over to the coffee maker.

"How much should I brew?"

"I'll take a cup if you'll suffer my company a bit longer. Stefan doesn't like coffee though."

"Oh, I'm surprised you brought some then," she said, pleased that he was now at least pretending to care how she felt about him being there.

"He said you like coffee in the mornings," Damien shrugged, picking up the glass of juice and the pepper-up potion and walking towards the bedroom.

"Thank you," she called after him when he disappeared into the bedroom.

'Well, I guess this is just how things are going to be now,' she thought to herself, pouring the grounds into the magical coffee maker—one of the many appliances they'd received during the wedding shower. Almost instantly, two perfectly brewed cups of coffee materialized. Rose knew they'd both remain at the perfect temperature until they were picked up. She saw on the appliance that it was almost noon and realized that, based on the circles under his eyes, Damien had probably been up most of the night and had exercised more restraint than she probably would have in his situation.

When a soft moan wafted out of the back room, Rose realized it would probably be a little while before the pair would be joining her again. She flicked her wand at the eggs and bacon, using one of the new kitchen spells she'd learned in "The Witch's Guide to Household Chores" she'd been gifted. A couple pans came flying out of a cupboard and eggs began cracking themselves over one and bacon laying itself out onto another. Trying not to pay too much attention to the occasional noises from the back of the apartment, she took her coffee to the living room and sat in one of the armchairs there.

The apartment had been sparsely furnished for them, and though it had a long way to go before it felt like home, it was already quite cozy. She looked out the windows at the bustling London traffic and the muggles walking along the sidewalks and sipped her coffee while their breakfast cooked. She thought over what she'd learned about her husband over the past few minutes, trying to digest the information. It shouldn't have surprised her that there was a depth and complexity to the man that she hadn't anticipated. The past year in particular had shown Rose that one of her flaws was a tendency towards self-centeredness, so it wasn't altogether surprising that she hadn't considered the possibility before.

Stefan and Damien emerged a bit later looking pleasantly rumpled. Stefan had a content dreamy look in his eye she'd never seen on his face before. Lifting up a hand, he brushed a flower petal out of Damien's hair.

"Breakfast, boys?" She asked them, and the pair nodded at her.