We sat at the table all through the night. After nearly an hour of my feet aching as I stood, Moody switched seats with me.
It's currently two in the morning and I am not in a good mood.
"For crying out loud!" I groan loudly and everyone stops their arguing. I am not naïve enough to think that's it's because they respect me. They're just feeling guilty.
"If I had thought that dying was this much trouble, I wouldn't have offered!" I am practically pulling at my hair. "Let's take a vote, yes? Everybody who wants to win the war, put up your hands!"
My hand is the first to rise, and I look around at them expectantly. Moody and Snape are the next two to follow. I'm not sure if I should be glad or not but all I can think about is going to bed. Sleep. Oh God, I can feel my eyes closing.
Most of the adults are against it but I can see more than half of the hands around the table raised. I smile in relief. The owners of the hands are looking extremely guilty and I honestly couldn't care less.
"Good," I say, pushing back my chair. "Now I think we can all go to bed. I'll be here tomorrow, for all of you who just have to have their say in this. Yes, Molly, I'm looking at you."
She doesn't look the least insulted, nor does anyone else. I'm glad Harry doesn't look like me. All cute and innocent. He might be a bit of a joke.
"We can talk about it more tomorrow and hash out the details. But for now I'm going home." I yawn. "After all, I don't have many more nights of sleep left in me, do I?"
At this everyone looks ashamed. Except Snape and Moody, but one can never be quite sure of what they're thinking. They'd be exceptional poker players.
"Good night, all." I start to drift out of the door.
"Goodnight Rose," everyone choruses. I chuckle.
I put on my boots and coat and stomp over to the door, opening and closing it. The dining room is silent for a few seconds before everyone bursts out with comments.
I Silencio my boots and a few loud pieces of clothing and creep back to the door to listen.
"Outrageous!"
"Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you voted for a young woman to die!"
"This is utterly absurd, no one will be dying!"
"Look, she seems really fine with it, and –"
"For goodness sakes, it'll hit her on her way home!"
"So we plan for her continuing to say yes, but still give her an out."
"This is horrid. We're as bad as You-Know-Who."
"He forces people to die, we didn't even expect anyone to say yes!"
"Oh Merlin, I feel so … unclean."
"Why can't it be somebody else?"
"Are you volunteering?"
"Well…"
"I think she did make a good argument, you know…"
"What, that nobody would miss her?"
"Well…"
"Ronald, shut up!"
"Of course people would miss her!"
"We'll all miss her!"
"She's really an amazing young woman, this is so tragic."
"Nothing's tragic, because nothing's happening!"
"Well it's not as though we're forcing her!"
"Oh, no, we're not forcing her at all! 'This is the only way to win the war,' we say, that's leaving it up to her completely!"
I don't hear Professor Snape's footsteps at all. The Order is too loud with all their babbling arguments. I see his shadow at the last second, but there's no time for me to move.
His hand reaches halfway for his wand before he recognizes me. It's dark here, away from the candles and warmth. One of his eyebrows is raised, but he continues on his way. I follow. I've had enough of this.
"I thought you were so eager to go home?"
"I couldn't resist," I shrug. We talk quietly, even though there's not much chance of someone overhearing. I follow him outside into the cold night's air. It's drizzling and I put my hood up so my bangs won't fuzz up like usual. Stupid hair. Sometimes I wish we were all born bald.
We don't say anything more, Professor Snape and I. I'm getting the feeling he's uncomfortable, not that it would ever show on his face. But I think Snape would be appalled at how easy it is to read him when you know what you're looking for. Not that anyone usually does.
I Apperate back to my flat, longing for my bed. A bit too much actually – I end up right in my bedroom.
"Rose? Is that you?"
My roommate, Barbara, comes scampering in, her blue eyes wide. I swear, she is the most annoying person I've ever met. Except for David. Good God, if I ever saw David again I might actually punch him in the face.
At the moment she's dressed in some sort of satin lingerie and a hot-pink fluffy bathrobe with matching slippers. Her hair is curled and bouncing with every step she takes. It's not the only thing that does. I notice she is definitely not wearing a bra.
"Oh thank God," she breaths, clasping her hands to her chest. "I thought you were You-Know-Who!"
I hold back the obvious, why would Voldemort care to come here? Then she'd just have an excuse to talk. And if I say His name around Barbie, Barbara, then she'll go into hysterics.
"Nope, not quite," I try to smile before turning around to dig in the pile of clothes on my floor for a baggy shirt.
"Well don't scare me like that again, silly!" she simpers, still panting.
"Sorry," I murmur, without bothering to try to sound like I mean it. It's not like she can tell the difference.
"Well anyways," she moves onto my bed and I suppress a groan. "I need to talk to you."
Crap.
"Okay," I say reluctantly, plopping down after her.
Mmm, so soft! Harry should really get softer chairs – near the end there my butt was numb.
"Sooo…" she twists a curl around her finger, lips puckered. "D'you 'member that talk we had back when we first moved in here together?"
I hate you.
"Talk?" I say innocently.
No, no I swear, I'm not having slightly murderous thoughts right now. Really.
"What talk?"
"Oh you know," she sighs, not meeting my eyes.
I'm afraid I do my best to repress our talks from my memory, thanks.
"I seem to have forgotten," I say instead. "What's up?"
"Well y'see … you remember my boyfriend?"
No. What's his name? Knowing Barbie, it's probably Ken.
"Yup, 'course."
"Hewantsustomoveintogether!" she squeals, her words so strung together that it takes me a second to decipher them.
"Oh, that's so great!" I say with extraordinary fake enthusiasm.
"I know!" she hugs herself.
She knows better than to hug me. I'm just not a fleeting, light-pressure type of hugger. Which seems to make it awkward for those that are.
"And that's what I need to talk to you about. 'Member when we promised to never let boys come between us, but never come between each others boys?"
"Um…" I think back. "Sure."
"Well, see, Ken…"
Oh my God. He's actually named Ken. That's just sad.
"Ken doesn't exactly have a flat big enough for both of us, and … well…" she looks at me anxiously, her long, fake eyelashes fluttering.
Why is she wearing fake eyelashes at two thirty in the morning? Does she sleep with them on?
Wait…
"You want me to move out?" I gasp, suddenly struck by what she's stumbling around.
"Oh would you?" she jumps off the bed. "Thank you so much, Rosie! You're just the best!"
I am still sitting there, mouth open, as she bounces out of my room.
"He'll be here tomorrow," she calls back at me.
Tomorrow.
Rage burns inside me. I rip of my clothes and chuck them as hard as I can into the corner. I suppress the urge to trash my room like a pouting teenager, but it's not easy. I lay there, fuming, until my anger slowly drains and I pass out, exhausted.
A/N: No, no, not that button ... over to the left ... more ... mooore ... that's right ... over a little bit more .... BINGO! Review!!
Pff, cookies? Try CAKE!