Chapter title taken from the iconic Fall Out Boy song.

"You make me happy."

Rosalind heaved out a long sigh, pausing to admire the quality of her quill. She bought it ages ago, but never realized how it never ruffled, and how the ink flowed smoothly on parchment. She hummed a tune by Celestina Warbeck, doodling on her parchment as the wizard next to her shuffled his papers again, waiting for her to notice him. She glanced up to see an impatient Draco, staring at the floor with his arms crossed.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked out of her trance. "What's wrong?"

He clicked his tongue between his teeth. "He got out."

"Who did?"

"My father," he said flatly.

She observed him, looking for signs of emotion but there were none. "When did you find out?"

"Last night." He rested his elbow on his desk, strumming his fingers on his cheek. "There are restrictions though. He can't work at the Ministry or Gringotts, and is required to have monthly random visits by the Ministry. No idea how he got that deal or if he paid someone off. He's also blacklisted from many jobs but...at least he's out."

"Well that's good isn't it?" Rosalind asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

"So why do you seem so nonchalant about it?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what to expect from him. My mother is elated, she already has a welcoming party set up." He cleared his throat, organizing the documents on his desk. "She wants you to come."

Rosalind laughed in disbelief. "Me, are you sure?" She squinted her brow. "Why?"

"She's taken the time to research you, unfortunately." He said, sounding slightly agitated. "She asked about you as well. She said she's happy to meet another Pureblood."

"Oh I see," she said, smirking. "I only get an invite because of my blood status? Maybe I should've told your father I'm a Muggleborn."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It wasn't my idea and you don't have to come if you really don't want to. I understand the posh lifestyle isn't something you're used to."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I'll be there. Gotta make sure I keep you out of trouble, right?"

"Right," he said with a laugh. "Don't worry about any Death Eaters being there. They're all on the run." He snapped his notebook open, pulling out a thin invitation. "It's tomorrow night at six in the evening. And wear something nice. Not like your Ministry uniform."

Rosalind grinned. "Don't worry Master Malfoy, I won't disappoint you."

Rosalind spent her Saturday spending an obnoxious amount of time preparing herself for the dinner party. She opted for a floor length cream dress that hugged her hips, flaring out at the bottom; a sweetheart neckline accentuated her chest, the color complimenting her bronze skin. She defined her curls with her wand for more volume and less frizz, settling on a pair of drop emerald earrings and a delicate necklace. She wiped a bit of nude lipstick on her lips, giving herself a mental pep talk before Apparating to Malfoy Manor.

She nearly stumbled on her shoes, her heels clicking against the stone as she caught herself. Her mouth gaped upon seeing the grandiose mansion, three stories of centuries old elegance carved into the walls. The cobbled pavement clacked against her high heels as she approached the door. She could hear carriages approaching, wheels screeching to a halt. Voices flickered in her direction, mostly high-pitched laughs from women laughing dryly at jokes they didn't find amusing. She approached a set of mahogany double doors, where two house elves stood waiting for her, list in hand. The smaller of the two cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Miss Rosalind Morana, of the United States of America."

The tall doors opened to a grand drawing room, engorged in lavish paintings, depicting the various faces of the Malfoy family throughout the centuries. Rosalind thanked the elves and stepped in slowly, scanning the room for a familiar face.

She painted a stiff smile on her face as she entered, unsure where to go from there. She could feel the stares at the back of her head-it appeared that the majority of the guests knew each other. A harp and piano played themselves in a corner, giving the party another touch of elegance. In the middle of the room stood three astute figures with the same platinum blonde hair, arrogantly handsome faces, and pale skin..

The woman of the group approached her, smiling broadly, flashing a perfect set of white teeth. "Rosalind," she said as her husband and son followed suit. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

She returned her smile, taking Naricissa's hand. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa let out a small, tinkering laugh. "How sweet of you." She turned to her husband, elated that he had returned home.

Lucius took her hand, his lips meeting it briskly. "It is good to see you again, on much different conditions Miss Morana."

She smiled politely, resisting the urge to frown. "Welcome home Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Lucius." He spoke in a much different tone than Azkaban. His confidence had returned and his smugness was no longer diminished. He glanced over at Draco, who had remained quiet. "Excuse my son, he usually has more manners." He struck him in the back of the leg with his slender cane, encrusted with a snake's head and emeralds.

Draco glowered at him, taking Rosalind's hand and kissing it, not breaking eye contact. "Glad to see you made it." A spark flew through her veins, causing her to flinch.

"Draco, why don't you show your friend around, have her get better acquainted with the guests?" Narcissa suggested. "I'm sure she's eager to meet everyone." She clasped a sharp hand on Rosalind's shoulder, flashing her teeth again.

"Of course, Mother." He slipped his arm around Rosalind's waist, beginning their tour of introductions. He was dressed in a sky blue suit with brown leather Oxfords, a handsome watch ticking on his wrist, his hair slicked back into a deep side part, the suit accentuating his eyes.

"You clean up nicely," he said to her before they approached the first guest. "I'm impressed."

She grinned, leaning closer to him. "I told you I wouldn't disappoint you."

He smirked, leading her to a corner of the room where a portly man was drinking whisky and smoking a cigar. His peppered, balding hair glistened, his eyes narrowing when he saw them. He set down his glass, letting a powdered rain of ashes fall to the floor.

"Mr. Greengrass" Draco said casually. "I'd like you to meet a newcomer to our group, Rosalind Morana. She's my partner at the Ministry of Magic." He moved his arm, letting them shake hands. "Rosalind this is Azrael Greengrass, patriarch of one of the oldest families in Britain."

The man raised his brow stiffly, dragging another puff of smoke before greeting her. "Pleased to meet you young lady." He hardly acknowledged her presence before turning his attention to Draco. "Astoria will be here shortly, young Malfoy. She's arriving after Daphne."

Draco's face quivered for a moment, but he nodded and remained stoic. "I'm looking forward to seeing her again." He smiled politely and dragged Rosalind by the waist, introducing her to other families.

"Who's Astoria?" she asked curiously. "Sounds like Mr. Greengrass really wants you to spend time with her."

He took a sip of whiskey, avoiding her gaze. "You'll know when you see her. Trust me."

"Who is she?"

He took another sip, raising his eyebrows at her. "Lifelong friend," he said with an emphasis on the latter word.

"Friend?" She grinned. "I can't wait to meet her then."

Draco almost choked on his last gulp of whiskey, tossing it onto an empty tray for the house elves to take to the kitchen. "I'm not sure she would say the same."

Before Rosalind could retort, he led her to several others: the Notts, the Rookwoods, the Travers, the Dolohovs-several Death Eater families were present, but the Death Eaters themselves were nowhere to be seen. She was surprised as to how normal they treated her, but knew it was because of her blood status. The fact she wasn't well off didn't matter; although blood supremacy was a dying ideal, Purebloods appeared to remain close to one another.

The house elves at the door cleared their throats, making way for the newest guest in their midst. A statuesque woman made way, her arrogance accented by her delicate features. She appeared to be nearly six feet tall; her black gown had a slit up to her thigh, revealing long, thin legs; her hair was parted to the side, long waves cascading past her shoulders, diamond earrings hanging softly above her neck. Her beauty was breathtaking. All eyes were on her, on this radiant woman with the piercing blue eyes, eyes that smiled upon spotting Draco, cocking a pompous eyebrow at Rosalind, a stranger to her.

"Draco," she cried as she stepped closer to him. Even her strides were elegant, every clink of heels to wood fairy-like. "It has been so long." She pulled him into a deep embrace, holding onto him longer than he expected. She gazed into his stormy eyes. "You are looking as handsome as ever."

Draco's face remained unmoving. "You are looking fine as well Astoria."

Her eyes flashed a glimmer of annoyance as she let him go, tilting her head towards Rosalind "And who is this? I don't believe we have met before." She towered over her, giving her a curious look.

"I'm Rosalind," she said brightly. "I'm Draco's partner at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's nice to meet you."

Astoria clicked her tongue, mouth slightly open. "Oh, you're Draco's partner, the one that was in the Prophet? You're not what I expected."

"What were you expecting?" she asked innocently, standing her ground while Draco stared at the floor, his eyes widening as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"That is a good question," Astoria smirked, turning to Draco. "Care to dance, Draco? I recall you have a very nice waltz."

Draco stiffened, not saying a word. He muttered to Rosalind that he'd be back and left her standing alone, annoyed that he ditched her for a pretty girl. She crossed her arms, taking a large glass of wine from a passing house elf, downing it in one gulp.

"Is Astoria trying to give you a hard time?" a shrill voice asked her.

Rosalind turned to see a woman about her age, equally as beautiful as Astoria with a lighter chestnut hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing a midnight blue gown encrusted with small diamonds, giving her pale skin a luminous glow.

"Who, me?" she asked with a mouthful of hors-devours. "I don't think so. Well maybe." She gulped. "I have no idea."

The woman smiled, picking at her plate of grapes. "It's alright. My sister doesn't take well being around other pretty women." She laughed at Rosalind's surprised expression. "I'm Daphne Greengrass by the way," she nodded in greeting. "I'm much more tolerable than Astoria. You're Draco's partner at the Ministry, correct?"

"Yeah, he's a lot of fun to work with," she laughed.

"He really is, isn't he?" she plopped a grape into her mouth. "He's not so bad once you get past that persky wall of his. He can be quite sweet too, when he wants to be." She glanced over at the pair, who were dancing by the grand piano. "Astoria always hoped they'd marry but Draco never popped the question."

Rosalind almost sputtered out her wine. "Marry? They're together?"

Daphne chuckled, shooing a house elf away. "No, not exactly. They've known each other their whole lives and it was always assumed they were destined to be together. They keep appearances to keep our families happy. She's oddly possessive over a man she doesn't really want. You could say they're childhood sweethearts."

"I see," she replied, mulling over the information. "She seems a bit young for him, I thought he'd be paired off with someone like you."

Daphne raised her brow, taking another glass of champagne. "I don't fancy boys, I prefer men," she quipped with a wink.

A young boy about three years old approached her, tugging at her gown gently, lifting his arms up to be carried. "Mummy, when's Daddy coming?"

Daphne thrust her son into her arms, poking his little nose. He was a handsome little boy, with his mother's hair and eyes, and a rugged, familiar face. "I'm not sure, sweetie, but he'll be here soon." She beamed at him, and the boy looked over at the stranger. "Can you introduce yourself, Ares? This is Rosalind."

The boy focused his large, doe-like eyes on her, extending his hand. "Rosie-Linda?" he questioned.

Rosalind smiled, heartstrings tugging. "You can call me that if you'd like. What is your name?"

"Ares!" He said proudly. "A-r-e-s."

She shook his tiny hand, curtsying. "Handsome name for a handsome young man."

Ares smiled a cheeky grin, clutching his mother closer. "Thank you Rosie-Linda."

Daphne set him down, patting his head. "Run along now, Ares, go play with little Dolohov. Your father will be here soon." The small boy squirmed out of her arms and sprinted off to join another toddler his age.

"He's absolutely adorable," Rosalind observed.

"Thank you," Daphne replied. "I hope Rodolphus arrives soon, Ares misses him dearly."

A chunk of cheese plunked into her glass. "Rodolphus? As in Rodolphus Lestrange?" she asked in shock.

"That's the one," Daphne said simply, sighing in reminiscence. "He can't stay long though, Lucius will be furious if he sees him."

"Is he your husband?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

Daphne eyed her, shaking her head. "No. He's widowed now, but Ares was born right around the time when Bellatrix died. She knew about us though," she added as Rosalind continued to look confused. "She married him to carry on the Pureblood legacy, but everyone knew she lusted after the Dark Lord," she continued in a disgusted tone. "Bella didn't want children but Rodolphus did. I was very young at the time, I had barely left Hogwarts. But Rodolphus is a fine man when he's not crossed, and a great father."

Rosalind downed another glass, remaining quiet. She couldn't believe she was talking about the same man who tried to kill her.

"We have a very open and understanding relationship," Daphne continued. "Especially now that he's out of Azkaban. But at the end of the day he always comes home to me." She smiled, sipping her wine. "He told me about your little scuffle at Azkaban as well," she added nonchalantly. "He was quite impressed with your magic."

Rosalind nodded in an attempt to hide her shock, muttering her thanks. Was Daphne aware of the kind of man Rodolphus was? The type of man who-

"Daphne!" a pug-faced girl cried, throwing her arms around her neck, her grown out bob bouncing. "You look beautiful as always," she said sweetly.

Daphne thanked her, motioning for Rosalind to come closer. "Thank you Pansy. I'd like you to meet someone, she's Draco's partner at the Ministry. Rosalind this is Pansy Parkinson, another lifelong friend of ours."

The pug-faced girl with bulging eyes greeted her politely, shaking her hand. "Oooh yes, you're the one Narcissa's been dying to meet!" she laughed, shoving a passing house elf who bumped into her. "I heard she sent Pipsqueak after you, the elf by the door. She wanted to make sure you wouldn't turn Draco in."

"What do you mean?" Rosalind asked, taken aback. How did she know that someone had been tailing her?

"You didn't know?" Pansy asked with a sneer."Narcissa is paranoid, thinks that the Ministry officials will sack Draco at any moment they can, especially with what happened at Azkaban. She's the reason he hasn't been able to have a steady partner, she never trusted the others. She always stepped in and threatened them if they got him in trouble so they left to be reassigned." She bit away at a piece of cheese. "Seems to fancy you in particular though, I can see why. You're just his type."

"Type?" she asked laughing. "He seems to already be with his type."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You mean Astoria? She's gorgeous, there's no doubt about that-but something about them doesn't quite click." She shrugged, ripping away another piece of cheese. "He's so uptight around her. He seems a bit more relaxed around you." She grinned as the music stopped, the song ending with a disgruntled Draco making his way in their direction while Astoria stayed behind to chat with an important looking witch.

He raised his eyebrows upon seeing Pansy, Daphne, and Rosalind together in conversation. He greeted them curtly, grabbing another shot of whisky.

"Sorry about that. She's a bit demanding," he said under his breath.

"You looked like you enjoyed yourself."

Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming?" she asked as Draco continued to look uncomfortable. "We've just met a bit ago, I adore her already." She fluttered her eyelashes at him, rubbing his arm. "I'm sure we'll be the best of friends." As flirty as she was with him, he appeared accustomed to it, letting her hang off his arm until she got distracted. He smiled stiffly, Pansy letting him go to greet another newcomer, a tall, muscular young man sporting two rings on his right hand, a pinky ring and another on his ring finger.

"Blaise!"

The handsome man grinned mischievously, his dark skin perfectly smooth underneath the light. "Pansy, Daphne," he greeted the girls warmly. "Draco, good to see you." He raised his eyebrow at Rosalind, eyes affixed on her eyes, then her lips. "And who is this?"

"My partner, Rosalind," Draco answered quickly. "We work together at the Ministry."

He took her hand, kissing it lightly, eyes staring into hers hungrily. "Pleasure. Name's Blaise Zabini." His fingers grazed hers for a moment before he let go.

She smiled. "Nice to meet you as well. I've heard about you," she said grinning at Draco, who shot her a dirty look.

"Is that so?" He grin widened upon seeing Draco's face. "All good things, I hope?"

"Of course," she nodded, Daphne and Pansy smirking at each other.

A waltz began to play, the music tinkering in their ears. Blaise bowed his head, offering his hand. "Care for a dance?"

She stared at him for a second before glancing at Draco, who was looking at Blaise with a tensed jaw. "Sure," she decided while he slid his hand beneath her waist.

The music played softly in the background as Blaise moved them gracefully, maneuvering her with ease. He lowered his hand down her back, piercing her body with his eyes.

"You're not from here, are you?" he asked mid-dance, not taking his gaze off of her.

"No, I'm American."

"Salvadoran American, to be exact," he corrected.

"How did you-?"

"I'm a Legillimens, love," he said, his thick voice oozing like molasses. "And you're a terrible Occlumens."

"I know," she groaned, annoyed and impressed that he read her mind. "I've tried to take up Occlumency but I just can't get the hang of it."

"It's a difficult art." He adjusted his hand, skimming the fabric of her dress. "It's taken me years of practice."

"That's good to know," she sighed, observing him. "What else did you find in there?"

"In your mind?" he asked, giving her a sympathetic look. "You've suffered terrible tragedies which is what brought you here. You wanted to start a new life."

"You're good," she admitted. "I thought coming here would let me start over."

"Luckily for you, Purebloods stick together," he said, his toe tapping her heel so she wouldn't step on him. "If you ever need a green card marriage, I'm your man."

Rosalind blurted out a laugh in surprise. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course, we already have the attraction going for us." He leaned into her ear, his voice dripping like honey. "Don't worry, I won't repeat what you were thinking when I introduced myself to you," he winked, grinning at her flushed face. "I'm flattered." She buried her face into his arm in embarrassment, inhaling his musky scent.

The song ceased to a decrescendo, ending softly. Blaise slipped his arm around the lower half of Rosalind's waist, leading them back to their group. Daphne and Pansy were engaged in conversation, giggling, while Draco looked tense.

"I have to say Draco, I'm rather jealous," Blaise informed him in a pompous tone. "You get to be around such a beauty all day, I'm surprised you haven't snagged her already."

"We work together," he glowered. "That would be unprofessional."

"So you don't mind if I take her out then?" he smirked, enjoying Draco's foul mood. "Since you're letting the opportunity slip. We're already planning our marriage."

Draco grit his teeth. "That's not for me to decide."

"Oh, you two? What a smart match," Daphne said in surprise.

"Blaise joked that if I needed a green card marriage he'd make himself available," Rosalind said with a smile.

"How lovely," she continued, an idea brewing in her mind. "Let's discuss it over lunch next week with Pansy and Rodolphus. You can come if you'd like too, Draco," she added as his ears steamed.

"Sorry, I've got plans," he droned, downing another shot of whisky. "Let me know when the save-the-date is."

"Choo! Choo-choo!" an excited Ares was on the floor, playing with a tiny magical train. His large eyes lit up when he saw a familiar figure by the front doors, causing him to drop his train set and jump high in the air, running towards the large shape. "Daddy! You're home!"

Rodolphus Lestrange threw his son into the air, catching him and hugging him tightly. "There's my handsome boy!" He rubbed the top of his head, kissing him on the cheek. "How have you been doing, my son? Behaving yourself and protecting Mummy?"

Ares nodded, smiling broadly, fingers in his mouth. "Yes Daddy! I missed you!" Rodolphus grinned, setting his son down. Ares remained faithfully by his father's side, holding onto his pant leg.

Rodolphus glanced up, opening his arms to the woman in front of him. "Daphne," he whispered, moving a strand of hair from her face. "Even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." He cupped her face gently, kissing her lips.

She smiled, gazing into his eyes lovingly once their lips parted. "I missed you too, my love."

Rosalind stared on in shock, dumbfounded that this man was the same that assaulted her. He looked much different now, however: his teeth were fixed, he cut his hair, his beard was trimmed, showing off his rugged and masculine physique. He almost looked handsome. No one else appeared surprised; Pansy was already busy conversing with another guest and Draco was downing another shot of whisky while Blaise lectured him about being a gentleman. The couple enjoyed their moment together, before the outlaw observed his surroundings and noticed the other woman in front of him.

He cocked his head to the side, staring at her in blissful disbelief. Rosalind looked around for help but no one was paying attention. "Look at you." His voice was low and menacing. "I have to say this is a pleasant surprise. You clean up very nicely."

Daphne caressed his arm. "We just met tonight," she whispered to her lover. "We're having lunch next week." A strange shiver went up Rosalind's spine as they stared at her, but she was not unnerved by it.

Rodolphus smirked, downing a shot of liquor and lighting a cigar. He puffed out a cloud of smoke, letting it swirl around Rosalind's face. She resisted the urge to cough, looking at him straight in the eyes. Daphne left to tend to her son and Draco had disappeared. She was entirely alone with him-the rest of the party had moved to the dining room.

Rodolphus approached her, grazing her jawline with his fingertips. "You are an enigma, I must admit." He puffed out another cloud of smoke, lowering his fingers to her neck. "It's quite fascinating."

"And why do you find me so fascinating?" she spat, glaring at him.

"You remind me of someone," he replied, tapping the cigar and letting a trail of ashes hit the floor. "My late wife. Her name was Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Draco's aunt?" she replied in disgust. "The Death Eater? Why?"

"Don't look so offended, darling," he said with a dark chuckle, smashing the butt of his cigar on a nearby table. "Of course she had her terrible traits, we all do. The difference between you and her though is that she owned it. You're ashamed of it."

"Ashamed of what?" she asked in a low voice, Rodolphus leaning against the wall.

"Your dark side," he whispered, observing her uncomfortable reaction. Rosalind's heart pounded against her throat. "I only have one question for you." He thrust two shots of whiskey down his throat, wiping his mouth before he continued. "How many people have you killed?" he asked so nonchalantly, so normally.

Rosalind felt as if he punched her in the gut. "Excuse me?" she replied, offended. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to perform a Cruciatus Curse as well as you did without having a body count? You're a good witch, yes, but you wouldn't have been able to do that on a whim. You're no rookie." He stared at her, waiting patiently. "Don't look so ashamed, love, I'm not here to judge you," he added upon seeing her shocked expression. "You're amongst friends here-like minded individuals. Forget about your little Ministry friends who'd look down on you for even thinking about it. So," he raised both arms in question, awaiting her answer. "How many?"

Rosalind stared at the floor, breathing in the noxious remains of the cigar, watching its trails of ash flutter to the wooden floor. "I don't know." Her voice was small and frail, yet relieved that it was no longer a secret. "I lost track."

"And who was the first person you killed?"

"That's two questions, Mr. Lestrange."

He cocked his eyebrow, urging her to answer him. She sighed. "Someone who wronged me," she said slowly. "Someone who I thought deserved it." She tried to say it without shame, without anger.

"What was he?" he inquired.

"A man."

"You know exactly what I meant."

"He was a Muggle," she responded, eyes darting back to the floor.

Rodolphus smirked. "See, doesn't it feel good to let that secret out into the world?" He smiled, inching closer to her again, examining her. "I believe you. He probably did deserve it. Some people deserve to die." His calloused thumb grazed her cheek, his dark eyes staring at her with fascination and understanding, his voice soft as if he were complimenting her. "Bella killed a lot of people too, mostly Muggles-"

"I didn't kill him because he was a Muggle-"

He raised his hand, silencing her. "I'm not judging you sweetheart, it happens to the best of us." His tone was light, cheery. He was still smiling pleasantly. "You're not the first witch who's meddled with the Dark Arts."

"I'm not like you," she retorted, her fists clenching. "I'm not a Death Eater, I didn't kill innocent people-"

"We're not so unlike as you think, love." His smile faded, his head shaking and pointing to the dining room. "Lucius is about to begin his speech, shall we join them?" He asked as he offered his arm. She grit her teeth before accompanying him to the dining room, looking for Draco or Blaise so she could get away from him.

Lucius Malfoy stood at the head of the table, looking over his Pureblood counterparts. "Good evening, friends, family and colleagues. It has been much too long since we have sat together at this table." Narcissa smiled adoringly at her husband, beaming with pride that he was finally home.

"Times have changed," he voice droned with a hint of spite. "The Dark Lord has fallen. It is now acceptable to associate with Muggleborns, even Muggles themselves." His face hardened with every word he spoke. "The tables have turned-we are now cast aside for living as we have been for centuries. I understand now that frame of mind is not sound, and I am committed to turning over a new leaf." He raised his glass high, "hear hears!" echoing throughout the room. Glasses chinked against one another, agreeing wholeheartedly with the toast. Laughter erupted throughout the table, and a feast appeared before their eyes.

How ironic, Rosalind thought, not buying Lucius' spiel. From what she had gathered, the Malfoys and Death Eater families were blood supremacists. There was no way his stint in Azkaban changed him that quickly. She frowned into her plate, aesthetically filled with roast and potatoes and vegetables, bumping elbows with her neighbor. Lucius sat at the head of the table with Narcissa on his right side, Draco to his left, and Astoria next to him, who was eating delicately.

"Your fairytale won't end with you becoming Mrs. Malfoy," a deep voice rumbled next to her, his fingers resting on the stem of his wine glass.

"So you're a Legilimens and a Seer?" she asked, Blaise's lips curling into a smile.

"No," he grinned, swirling the wine in his glass. "I just have a good sense of judgment." He took a meticulous sip, enjoying her eager expression. He leaned closer to her, his rings flashing in the light. "I could tell you how your story ends but it'll spoil the surprise." She eyed him in suspicion as the wizard stood to leave. "I'll see you around, Rosalind."

Chairs screeched in the room and glasses thudded on the table as guests began to leave. Rosalind glanced around for familiar faces, spotting Daphne and Pansy who insisted on taking her to a new cafe next week.

"Bye-bye Rosie Linda," Ares waved. She let him kiss her on the cheek, and the trio departed, sans Rodolphus. He must've snuck out before Lucius spotted him.

She scanned the various doors, wondering which one led to a bathroom. She wandered the halls, tentatively opening doors. She heard two voices arguing heavily at the end of the hall but ignored it when a figure appeared in the shadows, almost knocking her over.

"What the bloody hell-" a familiar voice cried before clearing his throat. "Sorry," he said, holding back a laugh. "I thought you were a house elf."

Rosalind frowned, punching him in the arm. He swayed, holding onto the wall for stability. "I'm not that small, thank you very much."

"Riiightt," he droned, grabbing her shoulder to keep himself from falling, still laughing.

"What's so funny?" she asked. "Had too much to drink?"

"Whaa, me? No way, I could drink gallops of alcohol if I wanted to," he swayed his hand, pointing at a nonexistent container. "Why aren't you drunk Rosa-lind? You're miss-missing out." He hiccuped.

"You're drunk! How much whiskey did you have?"

"Mee druuunk? I'm fine, love I promise," he gave her a lopsided grin. "I can handle my li-liquor."

"You should really go to bed, you're going to hurt yourself," she told him as he grabbed onto her waist.

"Come-hic-come with me!" He bellowed, trying to figure out his surroundings. "My room's on the other end of this hall-hallway...I think." He squinted his eyes, pointing haphazardly. "I don't want to be alone..."

He staggered onto her, almost knocking her over again. She grabbed his waist, using her body weight to guide him to the door on the left end of the hallway as he mumbled something about being nauseous and going too fast.

She opened the door, exhausted as Draco slammed onto his bed, face up. "Why'd you have to go so fast?" He saw a bottle of alcohol sitting in the corner of his mantle and attempted to guzzle it.

"Draco stop!" She cried, wrestling the bottle out of his hands. "If you have anymore you'll pass out!"

"Yeah? May-maybe I want to," he said, childlike. "Maybe that's better than being called a dis-disgrace." He took a sip, enjoying the burning in his throat. "My father never seems to be hap-happy with me." He looked crestfallen, like a little boy who had been told he was getting coal for Christmas.

Rosalind patted his back awkwardly, trying to comfort him. "You're not a disgrace at all. Your mother seems very proud of you."

He groaned, his head was starting to pound. "She just wants me to give her grandkids already."

"Why won't you give her any? Astoria seems to be fond of you," she teased.

Draco attempted to scoff, but bubbles of spit erupted from his mouth instead. "She's a decent shag, that's it."

"So that's why you were gone for so long?"

He smirked, still looking lopsided. "Of course, I had to do something while you were with Blaise and Daphne."

Rosalind scowled. "You were the one being moody all night."

He tried to scowl at her, but his eyes nearly crossed. "I saw the way he looked at you."

"You did tell me he was an eligible bachelor, remember," she toyed.

"Fuck what I said before." He took another swig. "He's not good enough for you. Neither is Weaselbee."

Rosalind raised her eyebrow. "Why not?"

Draco eyed her carefully, seeming to be lost in his thoughts, looking directly over her head. "I don't love her," he said finally.

"Who?" she asked, perplexed.

"Astoria!" He yelled, throwing his arms in the air into a fit.

"Why'd you shag her then?"

"'Because," he said slowly. "It's all I'm good at. She doesn't even want me. That's all she wants me for."

Rosalind stared at him, unsure what to say. He looked so lost, like he desperately needed someone to talk to. "What do you want then?"

He took one last shot of alcohol before throwing the glass onto the floor. He lifted his hand up in protest, as if trying to scold her for something but the words wouldn't come out. "I want to be happy," he said quietly. He looked into her eyes, his fingertips almost touching her face. "You make me happy." He dropped his hand, his head dropping onto her lap. "You don't jud-judge me. You accept me for who I am."

Rosalind stroked his head, playing with his soft mane of hair. "Of course I do. Because you do the same for me." She smiled timidly at him, sure he couldn't see her anymore. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

"Friends?" His head shot up, almost knocking his nose into hers. She could smell the alcohol in his breath, full of sorrow and regret. He could see her clearly now: her soft features, her full lips, the way her eyes shone in the moonlight. Their breathing was short, almost merging into one. He traced her features gently with his fingertips, their faces inches from one another.

"Sure Morana, if that's what you want to call it." He scoffed, attempting to swat her away but missed. He fell face first into his pillow, still fully clothed, with the words he was about to say never leaving his mouth.

I know this was a monster of a chapter, but it introduced a few characters and included some I love writing, like Rodolphus. Thank you so much for reading!

Next chapter: Famous Last Words.