Summary: Twilight-ish Imprinting! The fae can imprint! The problem is it's a one-sided bond. Rosalie Potter gets a rude awakening when her supposed grandfather, Dillon (Claudine's father) shows up claiming she's not fully human. This leads her to Bon Temps. Her connection with Sookie gets her involved in vampire issues and she imprints on Godric when she sees him in the FotS basement. A suicidal two-thousand-year-old vampire instantly becomes the very center of her universe. He is determined to die on the rooftop, and she is willing to go to any lengths to change his mind. Make any sacrifice, swear any vow.
Anything for him...
No beta.
1.
Over the nearly three months following the Battle of Hogwarts, Rose felt... different... off.
It wasn't even really something she could adequately put into words. Something was just, wrong.. or maybe, right? She wasn't sure. At first, she just chalked it up to being free from Voldemort, the Dursley's, and the war in general. Of finally being Free. Something she craved her entire life, but once achieved was harder to adjust to than she ever would have predicted.
Saying she was different didn't just apply to that unnamable something either, she was different, in many ways one would expect from a child solder coming out of war. Someone who had willingly walked to their own death. Seen men, women, and children killed. All of them lined up in neat rows... Tonks, Fred, Collin.. It was crippling. The depression, grief, guilt, and nightmares. The funerals. Trials. Every 'what am I supposed to do now?!'
There were moments she truly thought the aftermath of the war was infinitely worse than the actual war itself.
Somedays she could barely get out of bed.
Even the reflection she saw in the mirror changed slightly.
Emerald eyes glimmered unnaturally, like the light of the last killing curse was absorbed by her irises. Her skin lost nearly all color becoming as pale as ivory with only a light golden shimmer remaining. And the thick unruly raven curls the Potter's were so famous for shone. Her body filled out too. Though that was likely due to finally eating regularly after being on the run and living in a tent for a year. Many would consider those small changes good, and they were, it was still strange to wake up to every day.
Looking healthy after a lifetime of looking.. unhealthy was jarring.
Her biggest problem was how erratic her magic became following the Battle. Dangerously erratic, and the only idea anyone (Hermione) could think of, was the destruction of the Horcrux. It had been three months, and she was still having problems with accidental magic. It was frustrating, and embarrassing. She was nearly (only two days short!) eighteen years old for Godric's sake!
Ridiculous.
There was also that time Ron startled her by knocking over a pile of books Hermione had stacked in the library. She shot white light out of her hands and threw him into the opposite wall. It was dismissed as another bit of accidental magic. Rose apologized profusely while helping the gangly redhead to his feet. Ron just waved it off as no big deal, after he got over his shame at being tossed like a rag doll. The incident was soon forgotten, only ever brought up to tease either herself or Ron.
She never felt too bad about it, it wasn't like he didn't get off easy. Well, compared to what Hermione did later when she realized her latest research project was covering the library floor in Grimmauld Place. Her best female friend could be scary, and vicious, when research was involved. All-in-all though, not a big deal. Or so she thought.
Obviously, she was wrong.
"I'm sorry." Rose couldn't help but gawk at her visitor, who should not have been able to even see her house, while shaking her head. "I don't think I heard you right."
She actually had, only the words he was putting together made no sense.
It was a normal Sunday. Nothing terribly special about it, unless you counted her plans to have an early birthday lunch at the Burrow when everyone could make it, as opposed to her actual birthday which fell on a Tuesday that year. Personally, she did... count it that is.
Besides the early celebrations, her, Ron, and Hermione had self-studied for the past two months and were ready to take their NEWTS at the ministry in two weeks. Definitely something pudding worthy. Hermonie had plans to go straight into the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department. Ron feels the same about the Auror corps, Rose had no idea what she wanted.
Most days all she wanted was to hide in Grimmauld from the press and continue her new interest in studying what some would consider questionable magic. Mostly Soul Magic, she was determined to know everything she could about the connection she once shared with Voldemort. How the Horcrux could have affected her developing infant soul.
Any taint he might have left on her.
Like Dumbledore said... magic always leaves traces.
Her friends and loved ones, were worried she knew.
It was impossible to miss.
She hated the sad looks, the ones that said they pitied her, because they knew she was struggling after the war. Or at least they thought they knew. She didn't think it was vanity to say that no one really understood. They couldn't understand, and she thanked Merlin for that every night.
She would never wish such terrible understanding upon them.
She never wanted them to know what it was like, to feel a void inside yourself, and to know a piece of another persons soul was supposed to be there. And not just any person, but your fated enemy. She never wanted them to feel what it was like, to almost miss your murder, the man who slaughtered your family, and stole your childhood.
Rose didn't want them to have any understanding of what it was like to feel as if you already completed the only task you were born for. Not only having to figure out what comes next, but knowing nothing else you do will ever be half as important, because you've already done everything you were meant for.
And how could it be anyway, when most days she still felt like she was only half of a coin?
Ripping her thoughts away from her haunting memories, and the handsome face of a boy, before it was twisted into something dark and inhuman. Something from a nightmare, her nightmares. She rubbed at her scar harshly, and forced her mind back onto her previous train of thought.
Moving on...
The Golden Trio didn't spend every waking moment together anymore. Actually, Ron and Hermione did, they were still (finally!) dating. Rosalie spent more time at Grimmauld with her books, peace and quiet, and Kreature. With her best friends, or with Ginny or Fleur as frequent visitors.
Back to that Sunday.
It was supposed to be the first time she'd see her friends, and the rest of the Weasley's, in almost a week. Far too long as far as Molly Weasley was concerned. She was just making her way down to the floo, when Kreature popped in front of her announcing a guest. The elf looked frantic, or excited. His eyes even bigger than normal and all but running off to 'prepare the House of Black for a Noble visitor.'
Normally her mind would go to Remus, Andy, Neville, Luna, or the Weasley unit. But she was set to meet all of them at the Burrow for her lunch. And with the elf's wording she half expected to see Narcissa or Draco Malfoy standing in the sitting room when she entered. Not a tall impossibly handsome redhaired man, (Lily Potter red,) she had literally never seen before in her whole life.
She was wrong.
It was 'a tall impossibly handsome redhaired man, she had literally never seen before in her whole life.' He looked like one of the posh, 'I'm better than you' purebloods. Dressed in obviously high-quality, old-fashioned clothes. He looked somewhat out of place in the still mostly gloomy Grimmauld Place. And the story he was trying to sell her was just... mad.
"It is as I told you." He sounded supremely exasperated, his handsome features pulled down, and pinching the bridge of his nose.
And to be fair, she had already asked him to repeat himself- twice.
Rose was half convinced he even rolled his eyes at her.
His emerald-green eyes, her mothers' eyes, her eyes.
"I have already explained..." His prattish attitude was a bit too much.
Like Draco pre sixth year.
"You came to my house, which you never should've been able to find, interrupting my birthday plans, with this.. this.. impossible- insane story. The most insane story I've ever heard, and believe me when I tell you mate, I've heard plenty of crazy stories! And you just expect me too.. what exactly? Take your word for it?" The much smaller of the two glared up.
He glared back and a lesser woman, or man, would have flinched at the look on his pretty face.
Rose has seen worse.
"Your denying the facts does not negate them." He snapped, seemingly at the end of his patience with her.
"And you calling them facts does not make them so!" She snapped right back.
"I am your grandfather. Dillon Brigant, son of Niall Brigant. I met your grandmother, Rose nearly 40 years ago now." He huffed. "She was lovely.. and I was weak willed." He gave a condensed version of the same tale he'd been trying to convince her of for nearly an hour. "In my realm.. our people have been in conflict for centuries and it is quickly coming to its climax. There will be outright war soon. Many of my kind find relations with humans to dull our magic.. they see the offspring of these unions as blasphemous."
"I love a good blood war." The raven muttered under her breath. eyebrows furrowed, and got a sharp look for her trouble. "You keep saying 'humans' or 'mortals' like you aren't one, so why don't you just spit it out already. What are you..?" Her eyes narrowed on the man standing across from her. Speaking of standing- her feet were starting to hurt, but since he turned down the offer of a seat when he first introduced himself. She would not give him the upper hand by having him talk down to her, well more than he already was with the huge height difference.
She hated the Dursley's.
The green eyed girl could easily believe he wasn't human. He didn't look human, far to otherworldly, more so than even a veela.
"I am a Faery.." Dillon stated proudly, postering like Lucius Malfoy.
"A faery?" She snorted, she honestly couldn't help herself.
Her mind went straight back to second year...
Cornish pixies?!... Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!...
"Your humor nor your refusal to believe in your heritage protect you." He turned his back on her walking towards the far wall, and the Black tapestry angry and looking a bit offended. "The point is, your mother was borne of such a union. A halfbreed. Our Spark can only be bound at birth, once done it is sealed away completely. Such an action cannot be undone."
"My mother had magic, she was one of the best witches of her generation." Another reason she didn't believe the strange, rude, angelic stranger that ruined her almost birthday.
"Human magic." Dillon nodded in agreement but waved away dismissively. "After it was done, I could not stand to visit again. Not Rose, nor baby Lily. It would bring to much danger onto the babe. They would be hunted, and with the part of her that came from me sealed away.. they were safer in my absence." He shook his head, long red hair swaying with the movement. "My own child, Sealed by my hand. An impossible choice, really. Painful in a way I could not have foreseen or predicted before that day, or forget thereafter. I watched from afar, when I could, and when Lily married, I knew I'd have to keep a very close eye. For even though she was bound, she was still of my blood, and so her child would be."
He looked at her closely, his familiar eyes tracing her face, clouded in emotions she couldn't name or understand.
"It didn't take long before she was with child. I was carefully watching, or having a trusted.. ally do so when I could not. But then, about halfway through the pregnancy, the Potter family disappeared." The frustration was clear on his beautiful face. "Hidden behind human wards even I could not see through or breach."
The Fidelius charm.
"And so, you were born away from my sight and reach. Unsealed, unprotected, and very much in danger." His face was stone. "Your Quickening will end with your eighteenth birthday, you are of my blood, royal blood, soon others will take notice. You are in more danger than you can comprehend."
What do you think? Should I keep it going? Do you like the ship? Your ideas on imprinting?