Chapter title taken from the Fall Out Boy song.
"I didn't know you hung out with Slytherins."
Rosalind kept herself occupied during the next several weeks between juggling George and the Weasley-Potter-Granger clan, and her new friends Daphne, Ares, and Pansy. Occasionally Blaise, Draco, and a Theodore Nott would join them, though not very often. They welcomed her into their circle seamlessly, spending their days out for tea, window shopping, or perusing bookstores. As polite as the trio and George's family treated her, she couldn't help but feel misplaced. They were war heroes, greatly respected in society-Rosalind was the mere new witch on the block.
The crime wave had subdued, and Rosalind hadn't discussed her theory with anyone, still embarrassed after the meeting with the Order. Not even with George, who appeared more interested in the present moment.
"So," George said one evening in his flat when they were lounging in front of the fire. "If I remember correctly, your birthday is coming up soon."
Rosalind unwrapped her arms from his neck, tucking her head underneath his arm. "I'm surprised you remembered."
He gave her that lopsided, one eared grin she loved. "I never forget anything you tell me," he said slyly. He propped her up on his lap, rubbing her thigh. "So what would you like to do? Dinner, a night out on the town? Or would you like a fancy present instead?"
"You really don't have to do anything for me," she smiled timidly.
"Oh but I want to," he added, flicking the tip of her nose.
She grimaced playfully with a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know honestly, I don't normally do anything." She caressed his face, gazing into his gentle eyes. "Surprise me."
"You sure about that?" he asked. "I might get carried away."
"Yes I'm sure," she said with a laugh. "Whatever you want I'll love it. I promise."
He grinned mischievously, taking a swig of hot chocolate. "Alright but don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't." She hugged him tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of sugar cookies and cinnamon. He always smelled like a bakery.
"There is something I'd like to do the night before though." She walked over to her cloak on the floor and pulled out an invitation with a large M stamped on the front. She plopped onto his lap again, handing it to George. "We're having some type of Halloween party for work, but Hermione said anyone's allowed to come. It's more of a community event." He read the invitation as she continued. "There is a twist though-we have to wear masks and the masks disguise our facial features so that they look different to every person in the room. Even our voices will be different. Part of the theme is to dress up, and everyone has to guess who's who."
"Interesting," he said as he tossed it onto the table. "Are you asking me to be your date?"
"I am actually," she smiled. "Will you do me the honors?"
"Of course m'lady," he gave her a mock bow. "Consider it a date." He kissed her sweetly, sighing because he knew what he was going to say next. "It is short notice however, and that is typically a busy night at the shop. If I do need to cancel I'll make sure to let you know before the party starts."
Rosalind's face fell. "I'll try not to be too disappointed if you don't go."
"Don't worry love, you're always at the top of my priority list." He moved a strand of hair from her face, smiling back at her. "I'll do my best."
Rosalind pouted but gave him another hug. Her heart fluttered almost uncomfortably whenever he looked at her. He threw her over his shoulders and set her on his bed, crawling over her body. "Have I ever told you how happy you make me?"he whispered. She shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. "The happiest I've been in ages." He lifted her chin, moving into a deep, passionate kiss. She wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling their bodies as close as possible. He kissed her neck, trailing her body with lustful pecks, only stopping when she told him to.
Rosalind laid her head on his chest, unable to stop smiling. "Why are you so sweet to me?"
"Because," he said proudly, sitting up on the bed. "I can't find any faults in you."
The corners of her mouth quivered, her gaze shifting away from him. "I have a lot of flaws, trust me."
"Well I don't see them," he said matter-of-factly, kissing her forehead. "I think you're great." She smiled forcefully, pangs of emotion brewing in her gut as George traced patterns on her forearm. "Say, how'd you get these?" he asked, his eyes etching the scars tattooed on her right arm. "Are these from the same time as the ones on your side?"
She nodded, retreating her hands as if she burned him. "I got into a fight a few years ago. A duel. He didn't fight fair."
"A duel?" he asked with a frown. "What were you doing dueling?"
"It was part of my job," she said slowly, hiding her arm underneath the other. "Well kind of-I did a myriad of things in El Salvador. Sometimes that meant dueling."
"It's a bit dangerous out there, innit? What did he do to you?"
She twisted her lips into an uncomfortable sentence. "He smashed a glass table and had the shards stab me. I almost died."
George cocked his head, giving her a sympathetic pat on the hand. "What happened to him?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "It was a bit of a blur."
His lips thinned into a taught smile. "Well I'm glad you're alright." He patted her hand once more, standing to wave his wand, the butternut squash ravioli on the stove now neatly arranged on his table with glasses of mead. "Your sister's coming home soon from Hogwarts isn't she? I bet you're excited."
"Yeah I'm absolutely excited," she replied, relieved yet crestfallen he changed the subject. "I can't wait to see her. I know she'll really like you."
He took a sip of mead. "I'm sure she'll like the family too." He took several bites, swallowing his nerves. "My mum's been asking about you. She wants to know if you'd like to come over for Christmas this year. Emma is invited too, of course."
Rosalind dropped her fork in surprise. "Really?"
"Really really."
A knot tugged at her throat. "I would love to."
George tousled her hair, kissing the side of her head. "Good, I was hoping you'd say that." He refilled their glasses and they raised them together in a toast. He took her hand, caressing it. "It means a lot to me that you're going to be there. I have an obnoxiously large family though, I hope that doesn't overwhelm you," he added with a laugh.
"Of course not," she said, her stomach happy it was being fed. "My sister is a bit shy though so she'll probably be quiet most of the time."
"Well lucky for her they'll be lots of children around for her to make new friends." He tucked a curl behind her ear before glancing at his watch, heaving a big sigh. "Sorry love, my next shift is starting in five minutes." He grabbed his maroon robes, fixing his hair that she made untidy. "I'll see you tomorrow, same time?"
She sat up, grabbing her cloak and belongings. "I'm going costume shopping for the party tomorrow, but I can stop by afterwards around seven, is that okay?"
"Of course darling." He gave her a chaste kiss before they headed towards the door. "Don't have too much fun."
"Not without you I won't," she answered. He smiled, and they departed, leaving her with a knot of emotions in her stomach.
"Oohh, do you have any idea what you're gonna be yet?" an excited Pansy Parkinson asked. "You should be a circus ringmaster, and Daphne a pirate!"
They were standing inside of Madam Malkin's Robes, browsing through the costumes. The shop was larger than she thought it would be, almost as big as a Muggle department store. Halloween had imploded inside the shop, complete with talking shrunken heads and skeletons at every corner.
"I think Daphne should be the ringmaster" she replied, pulling out a revealing ensemble for her. "Since she's sultry and bossy."
Daphne let out a sample of her tinkering, chiming laugh. "I actually like that idea." She looked through the women's section, trying to find the perfect outfit, removing several costumes from the rack. "What are you going as Pansy?"
"I'm not sure," she answered, taking a look at a cowgirl costume. "I asked Blaise to come with me but he claimed he was already going with someone but wouldn't tell me who." She pulled out a flapper costume, admiring the hanging beads on the thread. "So I'm going with Theo instead." She frowned her approval at the flapper costume.
A small body appeared by Daphne, tugging her leg. "Mummy, the lady over there wants to talk to you," he said timidly.
Daphne glanced over at an astute looking woman, whose pursed lips disappeared into her saggy skin. "Oh drat," she said with a long sigh. "That's one of our clients, she'll want to talk to me about a donation. Watch Ares, will you Rosalind? This shouldn't take long." Rosalind nodded, and Daphne left to greet the old woman with a loud, fake laugh. She ran a charity with Astoria that worked with underprivileged kids and their parents, particularly half-blood children that needed education about the wizarding world prior acceptance into Hogwarts to lessen the culture shock.
Ares looked up at Rosalind, showing off his new set of teeth with a big smile. "Look Rosie-Linda I'm getting my big boy teeth now." He proudly showed off his chompers, growling like a lion.
"I see," she said with a laugh. "Are you dressing up this year Ares?"
He nodded, pointing to a statue of a tiger. "That's what I'm gonna be!"
"Can you show me your best tiger face?" she asked.
Ares scrunched his nose, baring his tiny teeth. "Rawr!" He stomped his feet, on the prowl. "Am I scary?"
Rosalind and Pansy laughed. "Yes, so scary," she said as he rubbed his eyes. "Are you tired?"
The boy nodded, lifting his arms up to be carried. Rosalind held him as his eyes began to droop, still casually browsing with Pansy.
A tiny body with brown hair and dark eyes ran beneath the racks, looking like it was hiding from someone. "Bet you can't find me!" It cried, hiding by the statue of a warty hag.
"Who that?" Ares asked confused, looking beneath items of clothes for the boy. "Who that Rosie-Linda?"
"I don't know," she replied. "I wonder why he's hiding."
They moved by the statue, looking for the boy but someone else had taken his place. This one had blonde hair with a button nose and blue eyes.
"Boo!" He jumped from behind them, his facial features suddenly changing: he now had a hawk-like beak for a nose and piercing black eyes.
Ares threw his head back frightened, eyes bulging from his sockets.
"Ha! Scared you!" The strange boy laughed.
Ares hid his face behind Rosalind, annoyed. "Did not!" He retorted.
"Teddy!" A familiar voice came from another rack. "That wasn't very nice!"
A pretty brunette emerged with a fiery redhead, ready to scold the boy. "Apologize to him Teddy," she said sternly.
The boy named Teddy frowned, sticking his tongue out when the redhead wasn't looking. He turned to Ares, swinging his arms back and forth, speaking in a low, monotonous voice and staring at the ground. "Sorry for scaring you."
"It's okay," Ares said kindly. "I'm Ares! A-r-es." He held out his hand like any proud three year old would to shake the other boy's hand.
The boy named Teddy gave him a lopsided look but took his hand regardless. "My name's Teddy, I'm a Metamorphmagus. I get it from my mum. See?" He scrunched his face, looking like the boy they first saw.
"Wicked!" Ares cried, impressed.
The two women smiled, finally realizing who was in front of them. "Oh Rosalind!" Hermione said in surprise. "What a surprise."
"I'm just shopping for the Halloween party," she said after she greeted Ginny. "What are you doing here?"
"Same," she answered. "Ginny thinks it'd be a good idea to dress me up as a Quidditch player."
"Because you don't know a speck about Quidditch!" she explained. "It would be funny."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Only if you go as the Frog Princess and Harry goes as a frog." She laughed seeing her expression. "Is this your son?" she asked, her brow creasing. "I thought you only had a sister?"
"Who Ares? Oh no he's not mine, he's Daphne's son." He wriggled out of her arms to play with the skeletons in the corner with Teddy. He was going hysterical at all the different things Teddy could turn into.
"Daphne?" Ginny asked skeptically. "As in Daphne Greengrass?"
"Yeah that's the one," she said as Pansy joined them.
The air immediately thickened at her presence; Rosalind had never seen Hermione look disgusted before.
"I didn't know you two were friends," Hermione said as Pansy glared at the girls but smiled at Rosalind.
"We're the best of friends," the pug faced girl answered mockingly, linking her arm into Rosalind's. "Rosie here is quite fun to be around." She gave them a devilish grin.
"You guys all know each other?" Rosalind asked, perplexed.
"We were in the same year at Hogwarts," Hermione said dryly. "Didn't talk to each other much."
"Granger, Weasley," Pansy greeted with a sneer. "Still snogging Potter and half the school?" Before Ginny could answer, she rolled her eyes, already bored with the conversation. "I'll go get Ares, Daphne should be done soon." She left, leaving Rosalind feeling as if she were the one who slut-shamed Ginny.
"I didn't know you hung out with Slytherins," Hermione said, stung.
"I just met them a few weeks ago," she said honestly. "I'm sorry about what she said. I've never heard her say anything like that before."
She gave a stiff laugh, a scar on her arm flashing the word Mudblood. "See you at work Rosalind," she said in a low voice as Ginny fetched a disgruntled Teddy, who was upset that he was leaving his new friend already.
Rosalind watched the trio head out the door with their purchases, upset about the scenario. She didn't realize how small the wizarding world was. If everyone at Draco's house knew each other, why didn't she think they wouldn't know Hermione and Ginny as well? She felt like she had crossed some invisible line, a line that she wouldn't be able to move back to.
She sighed, and Daphne walked back towards them with a few dresses in her hands. "I found the perfect costume for you Rosalind." She grinned, throwing the heavy fabric at her. It was a dark red corset with black lacing, complete with a frilly, ruffled matching skirt and black garters with stockings. "A saloon girl! You're from the Wild West aren't you? Go on, try it on!"
Before she knew it she was inside the fitting room, squeezing into the tiny costume. She had never worn anything so revealing in her life-the corset made her waist look shockingly small while pushing her breasts in the air, defying gravity; the skirt accentuated her long, dark legs and the garters were a sultry touch.
"Where are you?" Daphne whined. "Let us see!"
Rosalind stepped out slowly, feeling naked. Daphne and Pansy's jaws dropped when they saw her. "Does it look okay?" she asked when they stayed quiet.
"Okay? That's the one you need!" Daphne had a hungry look in her eyes, grabbing her hand and making Rosalind turn around completely.
"Yes, definitely," Pansy added. "Draco won't be able to keep his eyes off of you," she giggled.
"He only has eyes for Astoria," she grumbled, her face flushing.
They rolled their eyes at the same time, laughing. "I don't know, he seems to be awfully possessive when you're around. I think he might fancy you," Daphne said with a smirk.
"No way, we work together," she quipped. "We're pretty good friends. That's it."
"He's betrothed to my sister anyway," Daphne sighed. "Not that either of them want it. The plights of being born into high-class Pureblood society." She sighed, nodding towards the dress. "Are you getting that? The costume, I mean."
Rosalind glanced down at the price tag, it was much more expensive than she imagined it would be. "I was but I don't think I can wear it," she lied. "It's not exactly my style, and it doesn't look right on me."
"Are you mad?" Pansy asked. "It fits you like a glove."
"Let me see it," Daphne demanded. She took the costume and added it to her pile, taking it to the witch at the register.
"Daphne you really don't have to-"
"Oh stop," she said ravenously, shooing her hand away. "Consider it a favor. You'll thank me later." She pulled out a large stack of Galleons and handed Rosalind her costume. "Use it wisely," she said with a wink. She thanked her as they made their way out the door, feeling much worse than when she first stepped in.
Rosalind sighed into her mug, inhaling the sweet scent of chamomile, gazing out her window. The steam warmed her dark lashes, reminding her that she was still alive. Emma was coming home for the holidays soon and as excited as she was it was weighing on her conscience. The older Emma became the more questions she'd ask about their parents, and their sudden move to England. The more she'd ask about why they had no other family, of what happened when-
She closed her eyes, pressing her lips against the warmth of the mug, ignoring her intrusive thoughts. It was an abnormally quiet and unbusy day, the perfect environment for the lingering whispers to crescendo. She dug her nail into her thumb as a simple distraction, inhaling a deep breath, releasing a long draft of air. She didn't like to dwell on her adventures in El Salvador because they signaled the darkest period of her life. A darkness that no one could know about. She did what she did in the name of justice and peace, without conscience or taking a moment to think about the families of the people she hurt.
Growing up she believed people were either good or bad, like in the Muggle films. But the older she grew the more she realized that the world isn't split between good people and Death Eaters. Even someone like Rodolphus Lestrange showed a capacity for love, being a devoted father despite his treacherous faults. Rodolphus had never harmed Ares because he loved him. But Rosalind had done things to Emma-for Emma-to better their circumstances. Did that make her worse than Rodolphus? Was she just short of a Death Eater, without the branding on her forearm?
She gripped her mug tightly, her knuckles turning white. She thought she made progress where her intrusive thoughts remained shoved in the back of her mind, instead of the forefront like today. She inhaled again, holding her breath to keep the tears from seeping through the corners of her eyes as the two narrators spoke loudly.
You're worthless.
No one will love you.
You deserve to die alone.
I'm the only person that can take care of you.
You're a terrible person.
A murderer.
Rosalind's breathing became ragged as the walls of the room shrunk into her. She placed a hand on her chest for stability, her other hand holding onto the ear of the mug before both hands slammed against her temples, snapping her eyes shut and trapping the negativity. She managed to hold in a sob before forcing herself to stand, gritting her teeth. She had a party to get to.
She splashed cold water on her face, applying a few wipes of mascara, winged eyeliner, and a rosy shade of lipstick. She shuddered upon examining herself in the mirror, scantily clad in the racy outfit. She charmed her shoes to feel as comfortable as her trainers, knowing otherwise they'd hurt on the walk to the hotel. Her curls bounced against her mid back, the front pinned to the back of her head, accentuating her face. She picked up the gold mask gingerly, touching it against her nose and cheeks, sticking to her with the force of a suction cup and melting into her face, invisible. She frowned, expecting the magic to be instantaneous but instead she looked the same. The magic must work for everyone except the wearer.
She threw a pinch of Floo Powder into her fireplace, thrust around and finding herself in a dark, elegant lobby with rich mahogany paneling and marble flooring leading into a grand staircase that spiraled upwards into the various rooms. The lobby and adjacent rooms were decorated with black and purple drapes and floating jack o'lanterns. Fog swirled through their ankles, a cauldron sat over a fire, brewing several drinks, and goblins and house elves (or perhaps they were people?) served the guests.
An old wizard with a comical monocle and top hat with coattails stood outside the door of the main room. Rosalind smiled, thinking he looked like the Monopoly Man. His grayed mustache curled at the corners, and he looked down at the list before greeting her. "Miss Morana with the Ministry, is that correct?"
Rosalind nodded in surprise. "How'd you know that?"
The old man winked. "I've been doing this for many years, I begin to recognize everyone," he grinned, allowing her entry.
The music pulsed through her as she glanced around the room for familiar faces but there were none. The guests were completely unrecognizable, the magic of the masks in full effect. She draped her arm against the other, scanning the room for a hint of her friends.
"Is this your first time here?" a hunchbacked witch with warts spurting from her nose asked. "You look confused, let me help you." Rosalind nodded her thanks. "When you look in the mirror, you see yourself, is that right? You can't even see the mask. The way everyone here sees you is a reflection about how you feel about each other. If they don't like you, you might look like an old hag to them." The lady chuckled, plopping a berry into her mouth. "If they do, then they'll stand out. Those are the one's you're looking for." She pointed at a gruffy looking vampire, standing by the punch bowl. "See him over there? What's he look like to you?"
"Like a middle-aged man dressed as a vampire," Rosalind answered. "Nothing special."
The hag smiled. "Then it's safe to say you either don't know each other or have no opinion of each other. To me he looks like the most handsome person I've ever seen." She smiled in his direction longingly. "Watch out though, the magic wears off at midnight. The best part of the game is guessing who everyone is. The only reason you will be able to know what someone really looks like is if you knew what their costume was beforehand." She grinned, leaving to go after the stout vampire.
Hmm, Rosalind thought, wondering what she looked like to her. She scanned the room again, hoping to see anyone that could be a friend. A pretty woman in a Quidditch costume was laughing in the corner with a mummy, along with a princess and a frog. That must be the Golden Trio and Ginny. Her stomach pained, wanting to say hi, still feeling guilty about what Pansy had said. On the other side of the room was a tall, curvy ringmaster with her magical whip, accompanied by a flapper and warrior woman with an arrogant strut. That had to be Daphne and Astoria with Pansy. She wondered where Blaise and Draco were, hoping George would show up soon.
A passing goblin held out trays of food, handing her a plate of fruit and two shots of fire whisky. She leaned against the wall, gulping down the liquor seamlessly, enjoying the burning sensation in her throat and the wooziness in her head.
"Are you here by yourself?" A surprised voice asked her.
Rosalind turned to see a lanky mummified wizard. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Why don't you go with your friends?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I don't think they'd recognize me."
"That's part of the game, silly," Ron said, grabbing one of her strawberries. "You have to know at least someone here."
"I know who you are," she said, Ron giving her a perplexed look. "Ron Weasley? A third of the Golden Trio?"
He grinned, taking another cookie. "Right you are. I must know you then right?"
"We work together," she hinted. "I got us out of Azkaban."
Ron's eyes widened. "Rosalind? Blimey! You look great!" He glanced over at Hermione who was busy with another guest, his ears reddening. "Don't tell Hermione I said that, she might possibly go ballistic. She says I have no tact and don't think before I speak," he grumbled.
Rosalind laughed. "I won't don't worry." She eyed him as he devoured her food. "Did she say anything about Madam Malkin's to you by any chance?"
Ron nodded slowly, choosing his words. "Yeah, she seemed upset her and Ginny found you hanging with Parkinson and Daphne."
"Oh," she said quietly. "I didn't know they don't like each other."
"It's a bit deeper than that," he said with a stiff laugh. "The Greengrasses are alright but it's Parkinson and her lot that hate us."
"Hate?" she asked curiously. "What happened?"
"Well Parkinson's more of a bully but Zabini and Malfoy spent a lot of time with a rough crowd. Liked to start fights." He bit away at a gummy spider. "They're not good people to keep around."
"I like Blaise," she inquired. "And I like Daphne. Astoria is a bit stuck up though."
"A bit?" Ron laughed, gulping down some mead. "They're so arrogant they wouldn't look twice at a blood traitor like me. They have a very select circle of friends. They don't associate with new people very often."
Rosalind laughed dryly. "I wonder what makes me so special then."
"Because you're a Pureblood of course," he said with a mouthful of food. "Newcomers don't come around here often, and people like them want to snag them away to keep the bloodlines going." He gulped loudly, wiping his mouth on his bandages. "George is coming right?"
"Yeah I hope so," Rosalind said, perking up. "He said he'd let me know if he wasn't coming and so far he hasn't said no."
"That's good," Ron said, taking a thunder cracker. "He really likes you, you know, I haven't seen him this happy in ages."
She smiled brightly, flattered. "I like him a lot too. He's really nice to me."
Ron stood, clapping her on the back. "You're good for him. I really like you two together." He smiled awkwardly, still keeping an eye out for Hermione. "And don't worry I don't think they're mad at you, they just want you to be careful."
"Careful about what?"
"There's rumors going round that the Death Eaters are plotting something. They'd be the first to know and if they needed to they'd betray you in a heartbeat." He gave her a knowing look. "See you around, tell George he better give me some of his new product. I swear he's charging me extra for being his brother."
"Will do," she said with a smile.
Ron left to join the others leaving Rosalind by herself once more. No one had particularly stood out to her and she was starting to think she didn't stand out to anyone else either. She slumped her head onto the palm of her hand, blowing a curl from her face. A rather handsome voice crept up behind her whispering in her ear, "I was starting to think I wasn't going to find you."
Rosalind turned around to see the most breathtaking human being she had ever laid eyes on: he was tall, with thick, strong limbs, skin as dark as night and piercing, soulful dark eyes. He appeared to be made of marble.
She jumped, hugging him and tousling his hair. "I'm glad you were able to make it."
"Of course. Wouldn't miss an opportunity like this for anything." He poured himself large shots of alcohol, downing them like an expert. He observed her, carefully examining her body. "You look great."
She smiled. "I'm glad you like it." He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. Shivers shot through her spine, her body tingling.
"How long are you planning on staying?" he asked, his voice thick like molasses.
"I'm not sure, I was gonna leave that up to you."
"There are plenty of rooms we can rent out," he said with a wink.
Rosalind's face flushed. "Oh I don't know," she said teasingly. "I might need some convincing for that to happen." She smirked, licking the edge of her spoon.
He ogled her, returning her sly grin. "We both know I can be very persuasive," he challenged, his mouth inches from hers.
"Try me," she dared. "Bet you can't."
The handsome man smiled, caressing her thumb with his. "Feisty today aren't you?"
She grinned at him, interrupted by clapping and hundreds of bodies facing the main door, as The Weird Sisters had arrived. The crowd cheered, Rosalind swaying her body to the beat, uncaring of who saw. The wizard tucked himself behind her, his arms wrapped low around her waist, his fingers prickling her sides, electrifying her.
"C'mon take another one!" she said to him after dancing to several songs. The pair had already taken two shots of whiskey, evidenced by their near-slurred words.
He threw it into his throat, gurgling and grimacing. "That is vile," he muttered, wiping his mouth.
Rosalind giggled, her head beginning to feel heavy. She grabbed his hands, pulling him closer to her, staring up into his eyes. She closed her eyes to inhale his scent, opening them to see him staring at her hungrily. He cupped her chin, their lips meeting into a deep, passionate kiss that caused her to forget they were in public. He released her face to grab her waist, his tongue searching for the seam of her lips to deepen the kiss. She panted when their lips parted, their eyes locking in surprise.
He jerked his head to the side, motioning for her to follow him. He led them out the main doors and to the staircase to the top floor, where the most extravagant rooms were. He took out a key, unlocking the door and revealing a classically elegant room with minimalist furniture and an entire wall devoted to floor to ceiling windows with a magnificent view of the city. Candles lit the room softly, bobbing throughout the room at various levels.
"Wow," she breathed. "That's a beautiful view."
"Not as beautiful as the one in front of me," he said gruffly. He cupped her face, lifting it towards his. "Something feels different tonight," he said in a low voice. "I know you can feel it too." Rosalind nodded, inhaling as their lips met again.
Her body melted into his; she inhaled his scent, taking in the moment. He lifted her up by her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his torso, tugging at his hair. He kissed her hard, biting the bottom of her lip and thrusting their bodies into the wall. She moaned, excited that he was trying something new, his hands exploring her body as if he had never seen it before.
He sucked at the skin on her neck, slowly making his way down to her breasts and back up again, earning him another moan as he breathed in her ear, sending a vibration of shivers down her spine. He placed his hand on her back, carrying her to the bed, searching for the hooks on the back of her corset. She stopped him, sitting against the headboard, smirking at him with her legs slightly spread. With a wave of her wand the hooks became undone; her hands covered her breasts as he stared at her, mouth slightly agape.
Rosalind dropped her hands to her side, her breasts fully exposed, her brown nipples erecting simultaneously with his cock. "Fuck," he groaned, spreading her legs and jolting her on his lap, nearly impaling her. He grabbed her arse while their mouths met once more, moaning into each other. He pushed her on the bed, straddling her, his hand rubbing the wet laces of her underwear.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, her back arching.
"I won't," he said softly, kissing her thigh. "Not until morning." He kissed her neck, caressing her face and giving her longing, lost look.
"I want to see you already," she whispered.
"You will soon love, don't worry," he grinned, cupping a handful of curls and kissing her furiously. Their bodies rocked in sync, his body molding back into its true form. She gripped him tighter, feeling around his head for a missing ear but it was intact on both sides. She opened her eyes mid-kiss, staring at a pair of stormy grey eyes and the last face she expected to see while she was half naked.
"Malfoy?!"
Draco smirked, his shirt half unbuttoned. "Took you long enough, didn't it?"
Weeell that wasn't supposed to happen! Where was George? Do you think Draco knew what was going on?
Next chapter: I Write Sins, Not Tragedies