Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight
Chapter 16
She kept going back every other day.
For some strange reason, Rosalie kept going back to the Mechanic shop. She'd just show up – drive in at break neck speed (by human standards) – and do nothing more than lean against her car and either watch the emerald-eyed mechanic tinker around her shop or go off on her own to look at the other projects in the garage.
For some other, strange reason, Harry had yet to call her on it.
It actually annoyed Rosalie.
Most, normal humans would have at least questioned her by now – the British girl had offered her tea on several occasions – but Harry hadn't so much as given her a second glance.
Didn't she know how dangerous that was?
Rosalie frowned at the supposedly naïve nature of the mechanic, after all she of all persons knew where naivety could end up leaving someone.
"Aren't you afraid that I'm some kind of stalker, planning to kill you?" she asked upon her sixth (seventh?) visit to the shop.
She leaned against her car as Harry worked on a 2001 Porsche 911.
"Of course not," was the amused response, "You don't seem the type."
Rosalie frowned and asked seriously, "What if I were some type of monster? That could kill you as if I were squashing a bug?"
Harry made a considering noise at the back of her throat.
"If you were," Harry began, voice light. "Then why haven't you? Killed me, I mean."
Why indeed? Rosalie wouldn't kill her, rather she wouldn't stay around her. Yet here she was.
Rosalie's tense form went unnoticed as the mechanic continued. "It would seem that I have caught your interest. What about me, I have no clue, but you have no ill-intentions."
Tension eased from Rosalie shoulders as her brain attempted to justify Harry's apparently baseless assumptions.
She hadn't been thinking for long, when a ratchet handle was thrown her way. Catching it deftly, she turned narrowed eyes towards Harry, suspicious.
The ebony-haired girl had the gall to look sheepish.
"You seem to know your way around cars, at least I guess so," the girl began. "Care to help me out with this venture?"
The young mechanic motioned towards the Porsche she had been working on for all of twenty minutes.
Rosalie's brows furrowed and her nose scrunched up.
What exactly was wrong with the girl before her? Could she get any weirder?
Rosalie's thoughts were interrupted yet again when a bowl filled with small, yellow candy (where had she even taken them from) was shoved in her face.
Rosalie could feel the amusement coming off of the mechanic in waves.
"Sherbet lemon?"
Word Count: 472
A/N: I personally think that the idea of sherbet lemons/lemon-drops laced with Calming Draught is ingenious. This is update 3 of 3.
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