***Trigger Warning: chapter contains themes of sexual assault

Chapter 9

You are my home.
But I know too well,
That even a home can house monsters.

- Simonne Stellenboom [Monsters at Home]

The celebrations did not end when they returned to the tent. Many of the other pureblood families had joined them including the Parkinsons, Crabbes, Goyles, Zambinis, and Notts. Draco was talking animatedly about the match with his friends while Rose sat with Stefan, Mariko, Parker, and the other adults. Alcohol was shared liberally, and Rose was on her fourth—or was it her fifth—drink far sooner than expected. She sat around a table with her parents, her in-laws, Stefan, Mariko, and both the Smythes.

"Of course, it was inevitable that Ireland would win," Fabian was saying, his cheeks rosy from inebriation. "It's just the natural order of things. The English are a superior breed of wizards."

There were hearty cheers to this from around the circle. Vaguely, Rose registered his comment enough to find it amusing that Fabian was claiming an Irish victory for the English—which was, in itself, a very English thing to do. She blinked hazily and leaned against Stefan's shoulder, not paying much attention to the conversation but enjoying the warmth of his body near her own. She was in the pleasant stage of drunkenness where her insides felt hot and euphoric, but the room had not yet begun to spin. As she sat there, she became aware of a hand on her thigh. At first, she thought it was Stefan's, and she did not bother to push it away. His hand was near her knee and the way his thumb moved back and forth over her skin sent pleasant ripples up her leg.

"Did you see the rabble that came from other countries—what a disgrace," someone was saying. Rose's eyelids were flickering while she half dozed on Stefan's arm. The hand crept higher, leaving her knee for less innocent territory, long fingers beginning to massage her inner thigh, creeping up inch by inch. In her drunken haze, Rose's mind processed that what the hand was doing felt nice, and she thought momentarily of Cillian's hands running up her legs, and then of Remus' thumb inscribing small circles on her thigh. Stefan laughed weakly at something that was said and Rose sat up with a start. She shifted her leg away from the hand which she suddenly realized was on the wrong side of her body to belong to Stefan.

"Are you alright, Rose," Stefan asked, glancing over at her.

"F—fine," she said quickly, not daring to look round at Cyrus Smythe who was sitting on her other side. He had withdrawn his hand when she shifted, and she hoped it would not return. She felt incredibly flustered at the idea of the man touching her in the presence of not only his own son—one of her longtime friends—but also her husband, parents, and in-laws.

"I think I nodded off for a moment," she said, smiling sheepishly at her husband. She hoped this would be a hint to Cyrus that she hadn't been intentionally allowing him to grope her leg.

"It looks like Mari's done the same," he replied quietly. It was true that Mariko had passed out against Parker's shoulder. Rose wasn't surprised to see this as Mariko had been drunk most of the day to begin with. She suspected her friend would have a spectacular hangover in the morning.

"Fifteen years ago, most of this riffraff wouldn't have shown themselves in public for fear of us," Lucius was saying, and the others muttered darkly at this, nodding in agreement.

Rose hesitantly settled back against Stefan, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Within moments, Cyrus' hand was sliding back across the top of her thigh, and he squeezed her leg much more firmly this time, his fingers venturing ever higher, nudging aside the hem of her flowy silver dress.

"I'd better get Mari to bed," Rose said, practically leaping to her feet. Stefan raised his eyebrows in surprise but nodded. Rose didn't look at Cyrus when she stepped past him to collect Mariko from Parker.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, helping her sling Mariko's arm around her shoulder. Mari's dark eyes flickered slightly, and she mumbled a string of nonsense while Rose guided her to one of the side bedrooms. Rose had been drinking while sitting down for the past hour and found that she was a lot less steady on her feet than she'd expected to be. Pulling back the quilt, she helped Mari lay down in the bed, careful to position her on her side. Rose removed her shoes and placed a trashcan at the edge of the bed. Brushing dark hair back from her pale face, Rose kissed Mariko's forehead.

"Sleep tight you sloppy bitch," she said quietly, grinning at her friend before standing and turning to leave. She had extended her hand towards the doorknob when it began to turn on its own. Rose stepped back at the sight of Cyrus Smythe pushing open the door to the room.

"Hello Roselin," he said, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Mr. Smythe," she greeted hesitantly. His gray eyes gazed at her calculatingly for a long moment and at last he smiled. The expression might have been charming had it not been quite so predatory. His eyes held the unmistakable gleam of a man who'd been drinking heavily. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"I believe I asked you to call me Cyrus," he said in a soft low voice, taking a step towards her.

"C—Cyrus," she smiled back at him, glancing over his shoulder towards the door. "I was just about to head back to the party."

"Oh, I don't think they'd miss us if we were to… linger," he said, taking another long stride into the room. Rose took another step back and felt the back of her legs brush against the foot of the bed.

"You have grown into a very beautiful woman, Rose," he told her, taking another step forward. Lifting a hand, he brushed her hair back from her face with one of his long fingers. Rose flinched at the contact, and his hand dropped away.

"Why do you flinch? I did not strike you. I only wished to pay you a compliment," he said sternly.

"I—I'm sorry," she stuttered, her face flushing. Had she overreacted? Rose bit her lip and glanced at the floor. She resisted flinching this time when his fingertips touched her chin and slowly lifted her face to look up at his. She was struck suddenly by his impressive height and the strength of his fingertips and realized that her heart had begun to beat very fast.

"Now what would you have to be sorry about," he breathed, cupping her face and caressing it with his thumb.

"I should go," Rose said, placing a hand on his chest to push past him towards the exit. She stumbled when he caught her wrist and practically fell into him. He smirked at her.

"I like it when a woman plays hard to get," he said, and his lips were suddenly and roughly pressed against her own. Rose's eyes widened in shock. This could not be happening. She was not kissing Parker's father.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her tight against him, her hands trapped between her own body and his chest. When her lips parted to utter a sound of protest, his tongue invaded her mouth. His hands wandered down her back to cup her buttocks. The room spun suddenly when he pushed her back onto the bed. She was so disoriented for a moment that she made no move to stand up. Blinking in hazy disbelief, she stared up at Cyrus who had leaning over her, one leg on either side of hers. Leering down at her, he began to pull off his suit jacket and loosen his tie. Rose heard Mariko mumble in her sleep mere feet from her, but she did not wake.

"Cyrus, please, there's been some kind of misunderstanding," Rose said, trying to squirm out from under him.

"Don't pretend that you haven't been flirting all day," he said husily, leaning down and planting kisses along her neck. One of his hands buried itself in her hair while the other began to grope her breasts through her dress. Rose stared at the tent ceiling, her alcohol-ridden mind trying vainly to process his words. True they had spent time together, but she hadn't been flirting—had she? Rose was pulled from her thoughts when one of his hands began to slide down her abdomen. Panic began to well up in her stomach when his fingers began searching drunkenly for her most intimate places, pressing against her groin over the thin fabric of her dress. Her wand—she needed her wand—but she didn't know where it was.

"S—stop," she squirmed, trying to push his hand away. He sat back for a moment, looking down at her curiously. His hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her head.

"Now, now Roselin," he smirked, reaching out and rolling one of her nipples roughly between his fingertips from where it was just visible through the material of the dress. Rose's back arched in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. "It's not as if your husband will be taking care of you later, so you might as well enjoy yourself."

"How—how do you—"

"I've worked closely with Stefan for years. Some things you just pick up on," he grinned, looking over her appreciatively. "It would be a crime to let a body like yours waste away. Don't tell me you haven't been lonely over these past few months. Let me help you feel good tonight."

Rose opened and closed her mouth. She had been lonely. Lonely to an extent she hadn't fully realized until her experience with Cillian. But did that mean she wanted this? Her hazy mind struggled to discern the difference between arousal and desire. She felt almost frozen in place while he leaned down and began to nibble her earlobe, his hand moving back to rest between her thighs. Rose watched the ceiling spin slightly, and she tried to blink away the feeling of intoxication that was threatening to overwhelm her. 'No,' she thought, but she wasn't sure that her lips moved to form the word.

Cyrus' hand froze in its journey up her leg when a rapid knocking came from the door.

"Rose, Rose are you in there?"

Rose was surprised to hear her mother's voice coming from the hallway beyond. Cyrus silently slid off of her and stepped to the side of the room out of view of the door. Rose sat up slowly and stumbled towards the door, propping it open to see a concerned looking Narcissa standing there.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you," she said, glancing over her shoulder back towards the main room. "I need you to take Draco and get away from the campsite."

"W—what?" Rose's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Narcissa's blue eyes flashed angrily at her.

"Do it now Rose. There's no time for questions," Narcissa handed Rose her wand which she realized she must have left at the table with the others. She accepted it like a lifeline and followed her mother back into the room. She was vaguely aware of Cyrus Smythe slipping out behind them.

Rose could immediately discern that in the handful of minutes she'd been gone, the mood in the room had changed. Had she been more sober, she would have noticed that the conversation had been turning towards this all night. By now, most of the men had gathered around the table Lucius was sitting at. They all shared leering spiteful expressions that reminded her almost too much of the way Cyrus had looked while looming over her body. It made Rose shiver.

"After all these years, they think they've won, those muggle-lovers, mudbloods, and bloodtraitors," Lucius Malfoy was saying to his entranced audience. He was wearing a cruel sneering expression that Rose had never seen on his face before. "Making us sully our hands with that muggle filth just to get into an event where only the purest of wizards should have the right to be."

There were sounds of agreement from around the circle.

"They thought when the Dark Lord was defeated that they could go back to their lives of perversions—continuing to corrupt and dilute wizarding blood… muddying it," Lucius looked positively snakelike and some of the onlookers even hissed at this statement. "They have almost forgotten us. But we have not forgotten. We are still loyal to the old ways, to the pure ways."

There were hearty cheers at this. The pleasant warmth Rose had been experiencing earlier was long gone, and her body felt suddenly cold. She could see Stefan's face where he sat at the table. He looked ghostly white. She didn't know how to get his attention without drawing too much to herself situated as he was in the inner circle. She saw that Parker was also looking uncomfortable, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the table top. The slow fluttering of a fan drew her eyes to Margot who was sitting on Lucius' left side. Her fan had dropped to her chin and there was an almost manic grin spreading like a gash across her face while she listened to his words. Her pearly white teeth seemed almost like fangs to Rose's addled mind. Rose had never felt unsafe in her parents' presence before. She'd heard talk like this in the past, but never were the words filled with such terrible purpose.

"You have all felt it," another voice spoke up unexpectedly. Rose realized that Cyrus Smythe had rejoined the circle. He stood behind his son, both hands placed on Parker's shoulders who suddenly appeared shrunken and pale in his father's intimidating presence. "In the past few months. He is growing stronger again."

This led to a round of fearful whispers, even her father looked suddenly uncomfortable. A memory of red eyes flashed through Rose's mind making her shudder.

"And what will he find when he returns," the quiet voice of Margot Dolohov cut through the whispers like a knife. Her voice was icy and stern, and the listeners inevitably leaned towards her to hear what she had to say. Her fan was closed now, and she clasped it in her hand like the handle of a whip. "A group of cowards who did whatever they could to stay out of Azkaban? Or loyal servants who have not let the power of his purposes nor the fear of his name diminish?"

"Rose, go," Narcissa hissed at her. Rose jumped, startled at the ferocity in Narcissa's voice. She realized that Narcissa was also afraid and that made her heart speed up in her chest. What was going to happen?

"Get yourself and Draco away from here. Say that you need a walk to clear your head. I don't want the two of you anywhere near this," Narcissa continued, putting a hand on Rose's arm and pushing her towards where her brother was sitting with his friends. They were all watching the adults with rapt attention. It was almost like she was snapped out of a trance. Rose walked quickly to Draco and leaned over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"We're going on a walk, come on," she said firmly, placing a hand under his arm and practically dragging him up out of his chair.

"Rose, what—"

"Right now, Draco."

"I want to—"

"No, Draco." Rose shoved open the tent flap, one hand clutching his elbow, the other wrapped around her wand so tight her knuckles had gone white. As they walked quickly through the cool night air, Rose realized she was covered in a fine layer of sweat.

"Where are we going, Rose? Let go," Draco managed to shake off her hand and the pair slowed to a more casual walking speed.

"Mother told us to go for a walk, so we're going for a walk."

"Why," he asked, but when their eyes met, Rose could tell that he too had sensed the mood of terrible purpose that had pervaded the tent. She didn't answer, and the two walked quietly together.

Rose wasn't sure what time it was, but she knew it had to be after midnight. Despite this, there were still wizards and witches outside celebrating. Most were standing around fires and talking and drinking. A few waved jovially while they walked past. Rose lifted her hand back in response, giving them a tense smile. They could hear the occasional sound of firecrackers and poppers going off around them. It was strange to emerge from the deadly mood of their tent to find that everyone else was still celebrating. While they walked, Rose's heart began to slow. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe their mother was just being paranoid.

The walk to the woods at the far end of the field took them nearly ten minutes. And when they got there, Rose didn't know what to do. Draco sat on a fallen log while Rose paced back and forth. If she could have, she would have apparated and taken him back to the manor, but now that the initial adrenaline spike had worn off, Rose was once again aware of how intoxicated she was. She couldn't risk apparition—especially side along apparition—in this state. She could very well splinch one or both of them.

"How long are we going to stay out here," Draco drawled irritably, picking bark off the fallen tree and flicking it onto the ground. "Are you sure mother told you we needed to go on a walk? Or did you misunderstand when she said you needed to sober up?"

"Can you not be a little shit for two seconds," Rose snarled at him.

"Sure. When you stop being an overbearing cow," he said, rolling his eyes. Their argument was halted by a loud bang and both of them looked back at the campsite. On the far end, the house belonging to the muggle family had just gone up in flames. Rose could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment and then she felt her feet carrying her—almost of their own volition—back towards the campsite.

"Where are you going," Draco shouted after her.

"Stay there," she yelled over her shoulder, sprinting back along the rows of tents. Some men wolf whistled as she ran by, but she didn't have time to care that her dress was probably bouncing up high enough to show everyone her underwear. It seemed that no one had yet noticed the shift towards the deadly that the night had taken. But Rose was beginning to discern what sounded like screams from the shouts of celebration. Now in the midst of the tents, she couldn't see the other end of the field, but it seemed that the night sky was brighter in that direction from the orange glow of flames. Was the fire spreading?

"Sam! Ebo, Alex!" Rose shouted as she ran up to the entrance of their tent. A tired looking Ebo stuck his head through the flap and looked her over in surprise. She heard the unmistakable sound of Kwesi crying in the background and someone muttering irritably.

"Rose? Are you alrig—"

"You need to go," Rose said breathlessly. "You need to take them and go now."

"Rose, what—" Ebo's confused reply was cut off by another bang and an unmistakable scream. He looked over her head at the orange glow, and his eyes hardened.

"Please, please go," Rose begged him nearly on the verge of tears.

"Come with us," he said, his brown eyes looking at her in concern.

"I can't," she said, gesturing around wildly. "My brother…"

Rose's eyes widened when the sudden realization that her other brother was somewhere in this group of tents quite unaware that a group of Death Eaters had decided to have some fun. Turning, she began to run back the way she'd come. She was sure she'd seen the Weasley's heading in that direction earlier that morning.

"Rose!" Ebo called after her, but she ignored him and hoped they'd get out while they could.

Rose couldn't go as quickly now that she was taking time to read the names labeling the different campsites. Because of this, she knew the group of Death Eaters were beginning to catch up to her. She glanced over her shoulder from time to time to try to keep track of their progress. Smoke was now billowing up from tents that had caught fire. Through the haze she thought she could just discern dark figures, hooded and cloaked, moving across the ground. Screams were coming from high in the air, and Rose's heart sank at the shadowed figures that were suspended there, suspecting that it was the muggle family who'd lived in that house. People were beginning to notice now, and she was no longer the only one running up the field.

At last she stumbled across two small tents on a plot that was marked with the sign 'Weezly'.

"Harry," Rose yelled, running up to one of the tents. "Harry, are you in there! Harry, wake up, we need to go."

A redheaded man stuck his head out of the tent, blinking sleepily at her. It took her a moment to realize the man was Charlie Weasley who had been one of her fellow students at Hogwarts for her first four years. Though the two had never spoken, he seemed to recognize her as well.

"Rose," he asked, yawning and stepping out, looking over her in concern. "It's pretty late. Have you been drinking?"

"Charlie, get Harry and your family, you all need to get out of here."

"Charlie, what's wrong," another voice called, and Mr. Weasley stuck his head out of the tent. He looked straight past the pair of them when another loud bang sounded, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"Charlie, wake up the girls—quickly," he said, drawing his head back into the tent. In a moment, the rest of the Weasleys, Ron, and Hermione were out of the tents, looking around at the growing chaos in confusion.

"That's sick," Ron said, staring past her, his freckles standing out starkly against his white face. Rose turned to see the hooded group drawing slowly but inevitably nearer. Curses were being sent in all directions and many people were fleeing—but some, drawing hoods over their own heads, were joining the group, shouting and laughing as they did so. Rose's eyes traveled up to the muggles suspended high above the ground. One of the masked men had flipped the woman upside down, causing her dress to fall down over her head and reveal her underwear. Another was making a clearly unconscious child spin in dizzying circles. Rose felt suddenly nauseas.

"We're going to go help the Ministry," Mr. Weasley said. "You lot, get into the woods and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins began hurrying off towards the darkness of the woods. Rose watched numbly while Arthur, Bill, and Percy all took off towards the group of hooded figures.

"Are you coming?" Rose jumped at the question Charlie asked her, his brown eyes staring at her expectantly. Rose clutched her wand tighter, her mouth dry. He was asking her to come and fight them. To help catch and possibly harm her own father—perhaps her mother too if Narcissa had joined in.

"Me?" She asked, her voice cracking.

"We need everyone's help," he said. Rose took a step back, her hand that was wrapped tightly around her wand feeling suddenly limp and powerless.

"I—I can't, I'm sorry," she said, flinching at the look of disgust he threw her way before hurrying off to help his family.

Feeling like a complete coward, Rose turned towards the woods and fled, throwing up shield charms behind her as she ran. She could do that much at least. She was being jostled around by the crowd of people now fleeing in earnest. Someone shoved her to get past, and Rose fell. She managed to catch herself with her free hand, wincing when someone's elbow clipped the side of her face. Quickly, to avoid being trampled, she stumbled back to her feet and continued running. Rose reached the edge of the forest in time to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione running past Draco and disappearing into the tree line.

"Keep that big bushy head down Granger," Draco was calling after them and beneath the sneer, Rose thought she detected a hint of worry in his voice. When Draco turned back, however, there was no trace of concern in his eyes. Not until he caught sight of her.

"What on earth happened to you," he asked. Rose glanced down at herself. She was covered in sweat and dirt and one of her knees was bleeding and the side of her mouth felt swollen where an elbow had hit her.

"Nothing," she said quickly, pointing her wand at herself and muttering, "Tergeo."

The grime was gone in an instant, but her dress was still torn, and blood still trickled down her leg. Rose tried to calm her racing heart by taking a few deep breaths and then turned her attention to her little brother, looking him over to make sure he wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine," he said, his eyes fixed on the chaos over her shoulder. She could tell by the angle of his chin that he was watching the muggles being contorted as if by a sadistic puppeteer. She thought his face looked a bit pale. Rose kept her back to the chaos, feeling like even more of a coward with each passing minute. She didn't want to see what they were doing to the muggle family now, and she didn't want to see their parents being arrested.

"Can't you get us out of here," he asked after a few minutes. Rose shook her head, feeling useless.

"Not unless you want to risk being splinched." Draco blanched.

"I'll pass."

A new chorus of screams sounded all around them when a jet of green light shot into the sky, enlarging to the shape of a giant skull with a snake slithering out of its gaping mouth. Rose stared up at it, her blood running cold in her veins. In a moment of déjà vu, she could almost see another dark mark—one cast many years ago and seen through child's eyes over the shoulder of Severus Snape while he carried her out of the rubble of the Potter's destroyed house. She could almost see the two twisted bodies that mark had illuminated in a sickly green—their sightless eyes staring up at it out of still, pale faces.

"Rose, Rose!" She came back to herself when Draco shook her shoulder. He was staring up at her in true concern now. It was only when her mouth closed that she realized she must have screamed too. Draco was looking at her as if she had gone mad. She was trembling all over.

"Rose! Draco! Thank Merlin."

The pair looked up to see Narcissa running towards them—a traveling cloak had been thrown over her party dress. Her blonde hair was mussed, and her pale face was nearly white. Rose was relieved to see that her mother was not sporting the hood and cloak the group of Death Eaters had been wearing. Stretching out her hands towards them, she grabbed hold of their arms, turned on the spot, and disapparated. Leaving behind only a small popping sound and the eerie green of the Dark Mark as it illuminated the now silent field below.