Chapter Twenty: I Never Told You What I Do For a Living

Chapter title taken from the My Chemical Romance song.

"I enjoyed it."

"How was your weekend, Rosalind?" a yawning Hermione asked Monday morning. "We missed you at the party, I was hoping to catch up with you."

The witches were sipping their tea, breezing into the lift on their way to their departments. "It was good, George took me out for my birthday. He definitely outdid himself," Rosalind replied, hiding her blush with her cup.

"You didn't tell us it was your birthday!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you were upset with me to be honest," she admitted. The golden grilles opened, and the cool female voice reminded them they were at the correct floor. "After Madam Malkin's the other day with Daphne and Pansy. I'm sorry for what she said-I had no idea you guys don't like each other."

Hermione swigged some tea, giving the American a reassuring look. "Don't be sorry," she said gently. "We shouldn't have acted that way, Ginny and I-we keep forgetting that you're new here and everyone else has known each other their whole lives. I personally don't know Daphne very well but Pansy was a snotty bully while we were at Hogwarts but that was ages ago. I've heard she's matured a bit since then. They come from a background of Pureblood elitists and Death Eaters so we were shocked and concerned for you. We don't want you to get hurt," she finished sincerely.

"That's what Ron told me, he thinks they would turn on me if something happened. They honestly feel like my friends though, they've been very welcoming and I'm finally starting to adjust to living here. I just-" she sighed, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know. It makes me feel like I'm a bad friend to you."

Hermione smiled, giving her a warm hug. "You don't need to apologize for anything. You can be friends with whomever you'd like, we're not going to judge you. Unless you become a Death Eater," she joked.

"Thank you Hermione," she said relieved. "That means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it." She smiled brightly and left for the Auror's office catching up to Harry and Ron who waved at her.

Rosalind sighed, happy that Ginny and Hermione weren't upset with her. She searched the room for her desk, hidden by a gift wrapped basket. She frowned, untying the ribbon to reveal treacle tarts, pumpkin pasties and other desserts filling her nostrils, along with the bitter smell of cuts of meat and cheese, with a bottle of old French wine. She opened the tray of pasties, a sheaf of parchment fluttering onto the oak desk:

Happy belated birthday, Rosalind. Thank you for comforting Draco after the party. You are a great friend and wonderful addition to his life.

Narcissa

Rosalind's eyes widened in shock at Narcissa's gesture, when a curious Ron and Harry poked their noses through the door in search of food. "Who's got pumpkin pasties?" Ron asked.

"You want some?" she asked, throwing one in their direction.

"Thanks!" They chewed through the dessert quickly, hardly inhaling."Where'd chu get these?" Ron asked mid swallow. "They're amazing."

"Narcissa gave them to me for my birthday," she replied slightly under her breath. "They're good, huh?"

Harry swallowed his confusion while Ron nearly dropped his remaining pasty on the floor. "How'd you get acquainted with the Malfoys?"

"I went to a party the other day at their house. Met a lot of people there." Her voice was slow, noting Ron's tone.

"You got invited to the Pureblood Elite Party?" his voice was harsh.

"I thought it was a welcome home party for Lucius." Her brows furrowed upon seeing Ron's pained expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he said grudgingly as Harry was finishing his last bit of pasty to diffuse the situation. "Is just that only Pureblood elitists get invited to that. My whole family's never gone."

"What Ron means is that that was normally used as a Death Eater recruiting party," Harry cut in before Ron could speak up. "We know you're friends with some of the people there, we're just warning you that they're not exactly known for being loyal. Even with the Death Eaters on the run they could still try to pull you into something dangerous."

Rosalind nodded, swallowing the information, disliking the disapproving looks Harry and Ron were giving her. "Right," she responded slowly, feeling judged. "Hermione mentioned the same thing. They've been very welcome but it's probably due to my blood status more than anything else."

"Probably, but hopefully not." Harry twiddled his thumbs for a second, clearing his thoughts. "Just be careful, alright? You're still new so there will be plenty of people who will want to take advantage of that."

"Thanks Harry," Rosalind said with a small smile. "I really appreciate it."

Harry nudged Ron, who was still staring at the floor. "Right. What he said. Sorry for being a prat but...a lot of them are dodgy. Just watch out." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thanks for the pasty." He gave her a small simper before leaving for the Auror's Office with Harry.

Rosalind sighed, unsure of what was bothering her more-that all her friends seemed to have a past of disliking each other, or that she felt stuck in the middle of an unspoken rivalry. They're just looking out for me , she thought, which didn't explain away her guilt.

She slid into her desk next to Draco, who was reading the Prophet. "Are you done getting interrogated by Potter and Weaselbee?"

"That obvious?" she sat, chewing on a pumpkin pasty. "That was really nice of your mom to send me a gift basket."

Draco's eyes narrowed into the newspaper, his lips thinning. "She was going to be more generous but I talked her out of it."

"She knows we're friends so I can't imagine what her generosity is like when you have a girlfriend." His mouth twitched, the apology in his eyes interrupted by a somber Bowen, walking into the room with his bowler hat resting in his hands.

"I have grave news to share with you all this morning." His voice waved the room into silence. "Over the weekend, one of our own was taken. She was able to ward off her attackers and is currently in St. Mungo's. She's in much better condition than she was yesterday but she cannot be discharged yet." Bowen set his bowler hat down, resting on a desk. "Breckenridge was traveling alone and caught off guard. I know that you all are highly trained officers but I feel the need to remind you that we cannot be too careful. Never travel alone and always notify someone of where you are and where you will be going." He paused, as Lucille and others gasped. "Breckenridge is recovering but she is not at her strongest yet. I will keep you all updated as soon as I am aware of her condition." He heaved a deep sigh, approaching Rosalind's desk cautiously. "She asked to see you," he said in a low voice. "She'd like to see you as soon as possible."

"What?" Rosalind asked flabbergasted. "Why?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted sounding concerned. "Take Malfoy with you."

"Alright," she said with a confused expression on her face. She nodded at Draco, who followed suit.

"What do you reckon she wants?" he asked. They were striding through the halls of St. Mungo's in search of the correct room.

"No idea. We don't talk either so I don't know what to expect." She turned to a young witch asking for directions, who led them into a small, blinding-white room. Breckenridge was laying on the bed, almost too tall for it; her long thick legs were covered in bruises and there were spots of dry blood on her face. A glowing strand of what looked like an IV was hooked into her arm, providing nutrients for her. She was pale, no longer looking intimidating. She looked weak.

"Hello?" Rosalind said in a low voice. "Bowen said you wanted to see me."

The gargantuan woman patted the edge of the mattress, raising her into a sitting position. "Yeah. I did," she answered gruffly, her eyes closing from the sudden movement.

"What did you want to see me about?" she asked, eyeing her fingermark bruises on her arms.

Breckenridge stared at Draco, her eyes darting back to Rosalind. "You sure you want him here?"

"Yes. Whatever you have to say he can hear it too," she replied as Draco crossed his arms in annoyance.

"Alright." She sighed, wincing at the pain in her broken ribs. "A while ago I heard you talking about the girl who was attacked and how you thought there was a reason why she was alive, and that someone was trying to send a message. There haven't been werewolf sightings since the war ended but with what happened at Azkaban and that girl and over the weekend I think your theory makes sense...there's someone out there that's trying to get their point across."

Rosalind and Draco exchanged knowing looks before staring back at Breckenridge. "What happened?"

She grimaced, clutching her side, her eyelids heavy from the potions. "After I left the Halloween party I was heading back to my flat alone as always but I felt like I was being followed. Before I had time to react I was ambushed and taken somewhere. I was in and out of consciousness and had no idea where I was. What I thought were dogs were actually people behaving like animals, it was the strangest thing because it wasn't even a full moon. They kept pestering me, asking me questions and trying to hex me with my wand but it wasn't working for them...it was bizarre..." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to make sense of her memories. "I think some of them might have been Muggles, or Squibs. But not all of them were because I was definitely hit with some nasty Cruciatus Curses." Her eyes were hollow, pained. "There are certain things I can't remember though, I think they were getting frustrated with me because I wouldn't do whatever it was they wanted me to do. They weren't speaking English half the time so I had no idea what the hell they were saying." She looked into Rosalind's eyes, looking bewildered. "They were speaking Spanish and they were covered in numbered tattoos."

Rosalind's stomach dropped, her face paling. "I think I know who you're talking about."

Draco and Breckenridge stared at her as she struggled to find the right words. "Well?"

She wrung her hands nervously, beads of sweat already running down her neck. "What did they look like? Were they short, tall? Dark skinned or light? Tattoos or piercings or anything?"

"Most of them were shorter and a little dark, maybe your skin color," Breckenridge answered slowly. "I can't remember much but they were all tattooed. My memory feels really foggy."

"Does it feel manipulated? Your memory?"

"I s'ppose it does, not terribly but I remember enough that I didn't tell them anything about myself."

"Does anything strangely specific hurt? Like your head or your chest or your back?"

"Yeah, my back does." She removed the top part of her robes and turned her torso, revealing a small, faint scratch. "Not sure how I got this."

Rosalind leaned closer, observing the frail mark. "Was this when you were running away? How'd you escape?"

"I waited. There were others there they were trying to talk to but they were behaving oddly and I was bigger than most of them so I just ran for it." Her voice faded into a scared whisper. "If it was the full moon I don't think I would've made it out. I think they had werewolves there."

"What did you tell them?" Rosalind asked nervously.

"Nothing," she replied. "They weren't necessarily asking anything, they were demanding something of me but I don't know what," she said rather calmly. "What do you know about them?"

Rosalind pursed her lips. "If they're who I think they are they're gang members. I went to El Salvador a few years ago to fight against them and we'd hear talks about how they were going to make their way up to the States and then Europe but it didn't seem like it could happen..." She gripped the skin on her arm, pacing the room. "Our civil war started because wizards began allying with these Muggle gang members to overthrow the government and it worked-I was part of a resistance team but I left because I didn't think I needed to be there anymore. They use their power to intimate both Muggles and wizards because the Muggle mareros are ruthless. They aren't afraid of anything. I've seen them set fire on a bus full of women and children simply because they felt like it. They don't kill just for strategy they kill for fun as well."

It was Draco and Breckenridge's turn to stare at her in confusion. "So what are they doing here?"

"They track people-everyone, with their wands. I'm not sure how they tracked the Muggles, but by the time I got home every wizard in the States had their whereabouts known. They know our names, addresses, dates of birth and every spell we have ever used. That's how people get caught and sent to jail. That's how they keep people incarcerated. By the time I left they had already crossed the borders and infiltrated our government. These Muggles wanted more power. Somehow they've convinced some wizards down there that they should be treated equally or better and I think that's similar to what they're trying to do here except they're targeting werewolves."

"But why would they do that? Shouldn't they go after Pureblood supremacists or Death Eaters?" Draco inquired.

"I think they tried," Rosalind said slowly, recalling Adriana, Azkaban and the disappearances. "Remember when your father was the only person that wasn't able to escape Azkaban? We thought he refused to say anything because he was protecting his old friends, but I think there's a reason that Death Eaters didn't survive as much as other prisoners did. They tried going after who they believed had the most power but the Death Eaters rejected them."

"That's why my father stayed behind," Draco said. "Death Eaters don't like werewolves or Muggles, but they would've done anything to save their necks."

"Exactly." Rosalind nodded. "They overestimated their plan. So they're-I don't know, I'm guessing revolting? They're angry."

"So why haven't they killed anyone?" Breckenridge asked. "If they're as dangerous as you say they are wouldn't they have gone on a rampage?"

"They're waiting. They have to compensate for the numbers they don't have. I'm guessing they were trying to recruit you for your size."

"Well I don't blame them," she attempted a smile. "It all seemed so half hazard and unplanned."

"The smaller cliques don't really know what they're doing. They might have been younger and newer recruits who haven't earned their positions yet." She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping the sweat off her hands. "You got hit with a Memory Charm by the way, but it's not a good one. You should get your memories back soon." She looked over at Draco, who knew it was time to leave. "I hope you recover quickly."

Breckenridge waved a bruised hand. "Thanks. Take care of yourself."

She smiled stiffly, opening the door as her hands shook and stepped out into the hall. Her heart was beating rapidly, more than it had in years. What if they found her and let the world know what she'd done? She'd lose her job and her friends. She'd be lucky if they didn't kill her.

"Are you alright?" Draco sounded concerned. "You're pale."

Rosalind shook her head, forcing back the knot in her throat. "No." Her voice was as faint as her eyesight. "I think I'm going to be sick." She took a seat outside the room, feeling as if the pasties were on their way back up.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, observing her blanched expression.

"I have to talk to Bowen," she said, glancing at him. "And Harry. They need to know."

"Know what? Do you know something you're not telling me?"

"What they're capable of," Rosalind nearly growled, rubbing her forehead. "The might even-" She stood, grabbing Draco by the elbow to the nearest fireplace. "We have to go." The pair walked swiftly into green flames, reemerging in the atrium, Rosalind's pace quickening as she ordered Draco to fetch Bowen, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dawlish. She snatched her notes from her desk, striding to the Auror's department where Bowen, Draco, and the Aurors greeted her with somber eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy has informed us that you needed to speak with us immediately," he said with a pale face. "I understand that you've already spoken with Ms. Breckenridge, is that correct?"

"Yes sir," she replied nervously, her notes tucked under her arm. He signaled her to continue and Rosalind spread her maps, spreadsheets and notes on the mahogany desk. She inhaled sharply again, beginning her theory.

"Since Adriana Holmes was attacked, I've been researching and noticing patterns in certain areas. Specifically, more rural areas such as the village she is from have been targeted probably because they normally do not report crimes unless someone has died. The death toll has not been high unless there have been repeat offenses." She pulled out a map of a nearby town, little red dots sparkling where people had died, blue ink marking where they had been mysteriously attacked or disappeared. "This has been going on for a couple of years and they don't target the wealthy. I don't think that's a coincidence." She stared at them, waiting for a reaction but they were enthralled in the maps and diagrams, passing them around.

"The wealthy have all they need and are more of a risk, as well as the elderly. The majority of the people who have been attacked or disappeared are working class or working poor adults who are struggling to get by. And also-" she waved her wand, a financial chart displaying in front of them. "These people don't have much going for them. They aren't Ministry employees, they aren't bankers or shop owners, they are the economically disadvantaged who are barely getting by. Every single time one of them turns up missing or dead, there is a record that it is a repeat offense-someone has been harassing them and nothing was done and even then their murders were unsolved." She waved her wand again, throwing up graphic images into the air. Ron and Hermione grimaced at the photographs. "Additionally, they have become progressively worse: what started out as slashed throats and severed body parts eventually became decapitated heads with animal-like markings, and what is known as a Columbian necktie."

"What's a Columbian necktie?" Ron asked as another photograph enlarged as an example, Ron's face immediately turning green.

"What makes you believe these are related, Miss Morana?" Bowen asked skeptically.

"Because I knew people just like this." She waved her wand once more, and the photographs became even more grotesque, evidenced by the cringing in the room. "When I was in El Salvador I was part of a team that fought against gang members and human traffickers. The aftermath of our civil war left our economy in shambles and we have yet to recover from it because gangs have rampaged the country to increase their numbers. They don't go after the wealthy unless they are looking for ransom, they target the poor and the disadvantaged, the ones who feel like they have nothing to lose because they are the easiest to manipulate. Talking to Breckenridge earlier confirmed my suspicions-she was taken by these same people. I knew right away when she told me that there were a mix of Muggles and wizards because that's exactly what it was like in El Salvador. Corrupt wizards have teamed up with Muggle mareros to overthrow the government under the guise that integration is the way of the future. By the time I left the States they had already made it there. They were in our neighborhoods and in with our law enforcement agencies."

"But the Statute of Secrecy-"

"-Is not enforced. No one cares as long as they're getting what they want."

Bowden leaned back in his chair, his hands folded together. He glanced at Harry and Dawlish, who had their lips pursed. "Continue."

Rosalind held her breath, her hands still shaking, her palms dripping to the point so could barely hold her wand. "The night my parents died our house was broken into. They were both gang members but one was a wizard and one was a Muggle. They murdered them before I had a chance to save them and attempted to dismember their bodies." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, a tear beginning to trail down her cheek. She wiped it away annoyingly as Hermione gasped, the remaining Aurors appearing uncomfortable. "But they weren't the intended targets-I was. The reason they found me was because they tracked me through my wand. There had been rumors that that was how lawbreakers were caught and imprisoned. With the help of my former partner my sister and I fled to Mexico before coming here. My old partner said he had heard the rumors as well and that American agencies were combining Muggle technology with wand tracking, discreetly as it would cause an uproar. I don't have anything to confirm that but after the attacks a few years ago in New York and other events I wouldn't be surprised." She hovered her eyes around the room, heart thundering against her chest.

The Aurors glanced at each other wordlessly, then spoke to each other low enough that Rosalind couldn't hear. She looked over at Draco, who appeared to be listening in as well. Finally, Bowen turned his chair to face Rosalind, looking grim. "Thank you for the information Miss Morana, we will be discussing any action to take. You are dismissed."

Rosalind nodded, feeling torn that she wasn't included in the discussion. She pursed her lips and let herself out with Draco, slumping into her chair, feeling queasy again. Her head was pounding from the conversation with Breckenridge, worsened by her talk about her parents. She had never talked about her parents before, let alone how they died. Emma was right. It was all her fault.

An awkward hand rested on her shoulder, forcing her to jump. "Let's get out of here. You've had a long day." She gripped onto his forearm, the echoes of conversations in the Ministry fading, replaced with the deafening silence of Draco's flat. She zombied over to his couch while he fetched a pot of tea, pouring a cup for her as she stared blankly at the wooden floor.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, taking a seat in the single leather couch before her. "About your parents." He stared at her hauntingly dark eyes, specs of tears edging them.

"I've never talked about them before," she finally said, her voice hollow. "Saying it out loud felt different than I thought it would. It made it more real...that it was my fault."

"What?" Draco asked in astonishment. "How could that be your fault-"

"Because they were there to kill me!" Her teeth grit as she shrieked, her eyes wide in panic. "I was supposed to die that night! I should have died!" Her lips quivered as she was unable to control her sobs, streams of tears running down her cheeks.

"But why?" Draco asked gingerly. "Was it because you were part of that group? Were you all targeted?"

Rosalind shook her head, one hand wiping her nose. "It's more so because of what I did." She hung her head, holding her knees against her chest.

"You think they're going to come after you again, don't you?"

"If that's what they want then I'll die." She sniffed, his pale grey eyes glazing in concern.

"They won't, Rosalind," he said calmly, scooting next to her. "You're working for the Ministry. They'll take care of you." He Summoned a blanket, wrapping it around her to keep her from shivering. "Do you really think they'll come looking for you?"

She nodded slowly, clutching the blanket. "I did a lot of damage while I was down there."

"What do you mean? I thought you were aiding people?"

"We were but...we were allowed to defend ourselves however we wanted. That included Unforgivable Curses." She wiped her bow with her sleeve, shivering.

"Were you tortured?" he asked, concerned. "Did they use Unforgivable Curses on you?"

"No," she said darkly, peering through her wet lashes into his pale face. "I used them. On a lot of people."

The little color in Draco's face flushed into his hairline. "What? Why would you do that?"

"Because I was angry!" she exclaimed, slamming her fists, the tea splattering on them. "I was always angry and I didn't know how to deal with it!" She shoved her face into her knees, sobbing. "I thought that if they were b-bad people then it was okay!"

"That's in the past, you can't do anything about it now, you've changed-"

"Have I?" she asked, staring at Draco dead in the eyes. "I'm not so sure I have." She looked ashamed, the guilt written all over her face.

"It's not like you killed anyone right?" he asked. "It was part of the job and didn't escalate-"

Rosalind shook her head, stained tears skimming onto her sweater. "I did. I killed a lot of people."

Her heart clenched as she saw the fear and judgment in his eyes, his mouth agape. "How many?"

Her head swayed slowly, her shoulder shifting into a shrug. "I have no idea. I don't remember." Her eyelids were a deep purple from exhaustion. "I was a sicario ," she continued softly. "A hit man-we all had different roles and it turned out that's what I was best at. Being undercover, killing men who trafficked women and children and hurt them. Bad people who deserved what they got." She sniffed, snot syruping down her nose and onto her cracked lips. "But at what point does that make me as bad as them?"

Draco was stunned into silence. Rosalind tried to read his face but it was frozen in shock. Or disgust, she wasn't sure. Her dark eyes were bloodshot, stained with tears. "I'm not a good person, Draco. If they find me and kill me it's because I deserve it."

"Don't say that," Draco said sternly. "Don't you ever say that." His eyes searched for hers as she avoided his gaze.

"I hurt everyone I care about," she continued, her chest heaving. "Everyone I've ever been close to, my friends, my family, everyone-they end up dead or hurt because of me-"

"Stop!" he demanded, her body jolting. "You are not the same person! I've seen you, I know you-"

"I enjoyed it!" she cried, Draco's face furrowing in shock. "I enjoyed it because I was good at it. I thought it was justified. But then...afterwards I'd feel so guilty. I was disgusted with myself." She stared at the empty space between them. "I'm still disgusted with myself."

Draco continued to stare at her at a loss for words, Rosalind sobbing into her knees as her breathing became ragged. "How did...how did you become that way?"

She sighed, her head feeling as if it were splitting open. "My first boyfriend...he was abusive. Eventually I was able to get away from him but before I left for El Salvador I had the urge to see him. I had no intentions of hurting him-I just wanted closure-but I thought he was going to hurt me again and I snapped. But all of this, everything I've done, doesn't that make me just as bad as them?"

"I think it's a lot more complicated than that," he said in a low voice, Rosalind's face blackened from tears. He pulled her into his chest, grabbing her by the shoulders. She stared at him wide eyed, a thousand questions running through her mind. "I don't think it's my place to judge you for what you've done and what you've been through," he said, her head resting on his shoulder.

She blinked tears from her damp lashes, swollen from the salt, her heart sighing in relief. In his own words he was trying to accept her-or something like it, like she had done for him. Her right arm snaked underneath his left, clinging onto him as if he would leave her there, broken. She breathed slowly, her heart thudding against her chest.

She fumbled around her pockets, feeling an odd burning sensation. "My Galleon is going off," she said as she pulled out the large gold coin from her pockets. Minuscule writing was etching around the edges. "There's a meeting tonight for the order at seven." She glanced at the clock. It was half past six. "I better get going."

His face suddenly annoyed. "Going to see your boyfriend, are you?"

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, stung, gathering herself and making her way over to the fireplace.

"Right. Just a friend who you snog."

She glared at him. "What's wrong? Just a minute ago you seemed fine-"

"Yeah well just a minute ago we were having a moment after you've had an awful day," he retorted.

"We did have a moment!" she cried. "Do you think I would've told anyone that? And let them see me like this?" She threw her hands in the air, her sweater and curls a mess.

Draco sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his platinum locks. "I apologize. I'm still processing what you've told me. Just forget I said anything."

"Draco I-"

"Just forget it, Rosalind."

His jaw was clenched and he was avoiding her gaze, her body facing his kitchen. She stared at him for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak.

"Thank you," she finally said. "For listening."

He nodded slowly, turning to stare over her head. "That's what friends are for right?" He cocked his head to the side with a sneer.

"Right." Her heart tugged, strangely feeling empty. "That's what friends are for."

Draco stood to his full height. "See you later Morana," he said flatly.

Rosalind tried to muster a small smile but faltered. "Bye Malfoy." With a faint pop she Apparated back into her own apartment, the guilt quickly rushing in: she had feelings for George there was no doubt about that, and she knew she cared about him. But she couldn't deny it anymore-she would never feel good enough for him, and he would never accept her for who she was.

Next chapter: Adore You.