Warning: Some swearing and minor sexual harassment in this chapter.
Chapter 16
Night Out
"Rose, are you listening? Will you stop gawking and at least pretend like you're from a well-bred family? What your mother would say, I don't know."
"Oka—yeah," Rose blustered, snapping her mouth shut but continuing to stare at the spectacular sight before her.
The location of the party had turned out to be an outhouse that was so far away from the main mansion that it was easily accessible to magical folk by means of simple wards and Muggle-repelling spells. It was located on a small hillock and all the walls of the outhouse had been turned to glass for the occasion.
The path that led up to the outhouse had slim, Victorian-styled pillars mounted at exact intervals from one another—their flat, curled tops holding large, floating, clear orbs that seemed to contain hundreds of glowing fireflies in them. Færie lights were strewn across the pillars, zigzagging all the way to the top, where they ended at a magnificent arch, exactly like the one right in front of her. The curved fixture had been decorated completely with the same færie lights with larger orbs placed here and there, the movement of the fireflies refracting the light and playing patterns across the ground.
Renée tugged on her arm and they made their way up the path, Rose setting her features into an expression of ease. As they reached the top, they paused to take in the sheer magnificence of what was in front of them.
The glasshouse had been decorated with nothing but the same Victorian-style pillars of different sizes and shapes, with the same glass orbs hovering over them or higher along the ceiling. Færie lights wound around the pillars and the edges of the walls like creepers, ending in the centre of the ceiling—where a chandelier had been made using smaller versions of the orbs like the ones on the arches, throwing a soft, golden glow onto everything within and without, making everything seem almost surreal.
Long tables were pushed back against the wall at the far back, obviously containing food and drink, and a raised platform had been placed in the middle where a band was playing slow music, surrounded by dancing couples and people enjoying themselves with the gentle sound from the instruments caressing their swaying movements.
"It's beautiful," Rose whispered as Renée reached down to take her hand.
"It is, isn't it?" she replied in a voice that betrayed her awe. "I didn't expect it to be this extraordinary when I decided to drag you along."
"I'm glad you did," Rose said with a smile and Renée immediately snapped out of her daze and with a sparkle in her eyes, began dragging Rose towards the glasshouse.
"Oh, don't be glad just yet. Wait till I introduce you to the host—then you can shower me with your undying gratitude."
"Yes, my lady," Rose replied sarcastically, suddenly feeling underdressed when she saw all the beautifully clothed witches and wizards around her.
"Speaking of which," she said suddenly, eyeing Renée's ensemble. "Aren't you dressed too simply?"
"Well, you can't blame me, I didn't expect it to be an event like this," Renée groused, gesturing to everything around them.
"Apparently," Rose agreed as the brunette pulled her to a dark corner near the outskirts of the party. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously as Renée began looking down at herself from different angles.
"Fixing my slight wardrobe malfunction, of course," the brunette replied distractedly, swishing her wand here and there, and Rose watched the golden trail her wand movements left settle down on top of her to form a glimmering skirt that fell around her ankles, the smooth fabric – or whatever it was – shimmering with even the slightest of movement.
"When did you get so good at performing wordless magic of such precision?" Rose asked, the awe clear in her voice.
"It is an absolute necessity when you're of noble birth," Renée replied importantly, Conjuring a golden butterfly barrette and pinning it in her hair. She took off her coat, placed it in Rose's hands, did some extremely complicated wand waving while she muttered under her breath, and Transfigured the coat into a white, crocheted shrug with a high collar that curled back from the base of her neck.
"There, now we can make our grand entrance," she said happily, fluffing her hair.
"Now I feel underdressed," Rose grumbled, to which Renée plucked some sort of fruit off the bushes behind them and Transfigured it into a pair of large hoop earrings.
"Wear these," she instructed and Rose stared from the glinting earrings to her friend.
"My ears aren't pierced," she said dumbly and Renée made an exaggerated motion of frustration.
"They're obviously fake, stupid!" she exclaimed and Rose flushed, clipping the hoops to her earlobes. "Yes, fine, you look dashing—now let's go!"
"I really don't think so," Rose whined morosely and Renée pursed her lips at her.
"Pull your skirt up higher then," she snapped and Rose frowned, following after her as the brunette picked her skirt up elegantly, raised her chin high and strode regally into the glasshouse.
She could feel more than a few eyes on them and she rubbed her arm awkwardly, trying not to look nervous and out of place even if those were the only two things she was. Renée – not noticing her friend's sorrow, as usual – waltzed up to the back, where a small group was standing and chattering amicably. As soon as the brunette neared, the single male who was standing amongst the five females looked up and a slow smirk spread across his face, instantly reminding Rose of Scorpius.
I wish he was here…
"You made it, Lady Herington!"
"Oh stop, Tristan, I told you not to address me so!"
"Even though you obviously love it?" Tristan replied, his eyebrows raising as he brought Renée's hand to his mouth.
"Oh, Tristan darling, this is the friend I've been telling you about. Rose, come here and introduce yourself to the host," Renée said, turning to Rose with a pointed look.
"Hi, I'm Rose Weasley," she said, almost shocking herself at how smooth her voice sounded and how she naturally held out her hand for the man to kiss – which he did, thank Merlin, she had almost thought he wouldn't.
"My, Renée, you seemed to have failed to mention what a beauty your lady friend was," Tristan said silkily, never taking his eyes off Rose.
"Just as you seemed to have forgotten to inform me that you'd suddenly decided on changing the theme of your party, dear brother."
Although the shock of the revelation caused Rose's heart to thud in her chest and caused her to break out in cold sweat as she suddenly found the immense need to sit down, her smile never faltered, and neither did her relaxed demeanour. She fixed a mildly amused gaze on the brunette, her eyes flashing when Renée gave her a thoroughly unapologetic look.
"Rose, you haven't met my little brother Tristan, have you?" Renée asked sweetly, looping her arm through her brother's.
"No, actually," Rose replied, turning her gaze back to the man in question. Now that she knew the truth of the matter, she could instantly see the familiar physical likenesses between the two. How they're soft, chocolate brown hair framed their face perfectly, how their sharp noses curves softly to high cheekbones, how their dark eyes always seemed to have a hidden agenda behind their shine, how their postures exuded pure confidence and regality – she would have probably have doubted it at least, if not have seen it the second they had been introduced, if she hadn't been trying so hard not to trip and fall.
"It is an absolute delight to finally meet you, Miss Weasley. I've heard so many stories about you," Tristan said smoothly and she realised with mild shock that he was still holding her hand.
"Good stories, I hope," she replied lightly, slipping her hand out of his to adjust her hair, making the action seem natural. The girls behind them started to laugh at something and Tristan immediately turned towards them with an amused smirk.
"Forgive me, ladies, but it would seem that my companions are begging for my attention," he said lowly, leaning towards the two of them. "I hope you enjoy your evening, Rose," he said with a wink and turned away.
"I cannot believe you didn't tell me he was your brother!" Rose hissed as they made their way towards the tables with the refreshments.
"It skipped my mind, sorry," Renée said in a monotone, not looking sorry at all.
Although Rose had met Tristan once before, during her sixth year in Hogwarts when she had spent the Easter holidays at Herington Estate, the mousy boy with pudgy cheeks and a round belly hardly looked anything like the dashing young man he now was.
"I'm sure," Rose snapped, picking up a glass of honey-coloured liquid. She drank it in a quick series of gulps, the telltale burn of it affirming her suspicion that it was indeed Firewhiskey.
"Rose! What do you think you're doing!" Renée demanded in a furious whisper, grabbing the empty glass and placing it back on the table, looking around as though to make sure nobody had seen her.
"Exactly what you said," Rose replied with a slight burp, patting her throat and grinning at Renée.
"You know how much of a light weight you are! At least sip it like a lady, you fool!"
"My, someone's temper's-a flarin'!" Rose sang, leaning her hip against the table and looking at the brunette through hooded eyes.
Renée pursed her lips and raised her hand to point a finger at Rose. "You stay right here, missy. I am going to send a message to someone."
"Aww, that's why I told you to let Cole tag along," Rose called after her as Renée moved off to the side, pulling her wand out of her sleeve.
Rose reached for another glass of Firewhiskey and swirled it around, smiling at the warm feeling blooming inside her. She really was a lightweight through and through. She glanced to see if Renée was watching out of the corner of her eye and downed the glass, hurriedly placing it in the pile of empty ones as the brunette made her way back and gave Rose a suspicious look.
"Did you steal another drink in the minute I was away?" the brunette asked accusingly and Rose pouted at her.
"How mean! I would never!"
"You are the worst fucking liar to have ever been born among wizard kind," Renée hissed, thrusting a glass of water into Rose's hand with so much force, it splashed onto her top.
"I don't like it when you swear," Rose complained, looking down to see a wet spot bloom over her bosom. Renée swore and flicked her wand, Scouring the wetness away.
"I'm starting to regret bringing you here."
"Ren," Rose drawled, reaching for two glasses of Firewhiskey and holding one out to the brunette. "Who was it that dragged me here against my will with the sole intention of drinking ourselves into oblivion?"
"You might just," Renée replied crossly, begrudgingly taking the glass from Rose's hand.
"Well, there's only one way to fix that," Rose grinned, raising her glass. "To a successful engagement, a wonderful marriage and a beautiful life!"
Renée regarded Rose uncertainly, but the latter could already see that she was giving in. When she chuckled and raised her glass, Rose bounced lightly on the spot and squeezed her arm. "To us," Renée said softly and Rose clinked glasses with her.
"To us," she agreed, tilting her head back and downing the contents. When she looked back, the brunette was scrunching up her face and fluttering her fingers inches from her mouth.
"Argh, I don't know how you just drink this like water," she choked, reaching for the untouched glass of water in Rose's other hand. "I'd rather something smoother!"
"Actually, this one is really smooth," Rose replied, already reaching for two more glasses. "Besides, didn't you say it yourself?"
"Say what?" Renée asked, accepting her second glass without hesitation.
Rose tipped her glass towards Renée and the two gulped down the drink, their hands reaching forwards and clutching each other's to steady them. The came back with a loud sigh, giggling and swaying slightly.
"Looks like you were right after all," Rose giggled as Renée leaned forwards and almost tripped. "It goes down easy after the first couple."
She wasn't quite sure how many glasses of Firewhiskey she had drunk, nor did she know who it was that had their arms around her as she slowly pulled out of the blurry haze she had drifted into and leaned back to look up at her companion's face.
"Hello and welcome back to the world of the living, Miss Weasley," Tristan said animatedly, making Rose giggle.
"Where's your—sister?" she asked, smoothing her palms that were on his shoulders closer and winding them around his neck. His smirk turned coy and his light, hazel eyes darkened as he slipped his arms fully around her waist and pulled her against him.
"Does it matter?" he asked in a low voice that still held a light quality to it even if it sounded oddly deep.
"It does," Rose said in a pouty voice, playing with the ends of his hair when they brushed against her fingers. "It's supposed to be her pre-engagement girl's night out."
"Oh, she'll be around," Tristan replied off-handedly, turning in a slow circle. Rose breathed through her parted lips, suddenly finding it far too stifling inside the glasshouse.
"It's hot," she murmured, reaching up to fan her hair away from her neck.
"It is indeed," came the silky reply and something about the way he was looking at her with that knowing expression of anticipation and the way his eyes were raking down her body left her feeling thoroughly unsettled.
She pulled away slightly, her breathing heavy, and she was met with dizziness as she realised she couldn't stand on her own without support. Tristan immediately pulled her back against his chest, clucking his tongue softly.
"There's no hurry, love," he said in a voice that sounded oddly like the slithering of a snake, to her ringing ears.
"I'm… really hot," she murmured, pulling the neck of her blouse out and gasping as it peeled away from her body.
"That you are," Tristan replied, his eyes looking greedily down Rose's top – which was obviously a clear sight, as he was almost a head taller than her even in her six-inch shoes.
Not as tall as Scorpius, her mind said and she suddenly frowned, her heart beginning to race.
That's right—even if it wasn't official and even it wasn't going to be for a while, there was definitely something going on between her and Scorpius. Something that she definitely wanted.
"I—I should… go," she stammered, leaning away from him again, almost leaning half over at the waist because he hadn't loosed his grip around her even a bit.
"Come now, there's no need for weariness. I'm your best friend's brother, there's nothing unfamiliar about me."
Slytherin, her mind said and she nodded to it. Definitely Slytherin. Just like him—
"But not so much," she mumbled, finishing her own thought out loud, squirming in his grasp. Her heart was beating much faster than normal, her body temperature was much higher than normal, her sense of depth and distance was much more skewed than normal, her sense of balance was more off than normal, her vision was blurrier than normal, her ability to think and process information was much lower than normal, and her need to cry and run away was most definitely much greater than normal.
"Please let me go," she sniffed quietly, straining in his hold and grimacing as his nails dug into her back.
"You don't mean that, love," Tristan whispered, jerking her back to him. She fell against his chest like a ragdoll, leaving her winded and vulnerable to his whims.
No, she thought, desperately. This was not what she had wanted. This was nothing like the time with Scorpius. Although the two could have been similar if she was sober enough to find the likenesses, she wanted to be with Scorpius. She wanted to have his arms wrap around her. She wanted him to press his mouth to hers. She wanted to lose herself into his embrace.
But this, she did not want or desire.
"Please," she said again, trying very hard to raise her head slowly and saw the world teeter around her. "I just need some air."
"The music is still playing, Miss Weasley. It would be rude to the musicians if you were to leave the stage mid-song."
Yes, she remembered Renée telling her something similar years ago when they had still been in school, when she had asked the brunette why she had bothered dancing until the very end with her companion when she obviously didn't want to.
"It's rude," the brunette had scolded, "to leave mid-song when the musicians are obviously putting their heart and souls into making it perfect. It's not their fault my date is lousy, is it?"
She hadn't understood the reasoning behind it then, and she didn't understand it now.
"I'm sure—they wouldn't mind—if I left for just—a little bit," Rose bit out through gritted teeth as she reached back and tried to pry his arms off her waist.
"But I would, Rose, so I suggest that you listen to me and do as I tell you to."
She froze at the authoritativeness in his voice. It was the exact same as Renée's when she was pissed. Very pissed. It made her comply involuntarily, her muddled mind unable to differentiate Tristan's anger from his sister's.
I don't want to do this anymore! Her mind told her and she tried to soothe it, but to no avail. I don't want this! Scorpius, help me! Scorpius!
She knew it was pointless, trying to call him with her mind, but she dared not do it out loud. Even though she was drunk, she had sense enough to know where she was and who she was dancing with. Although he made her want to hurl, he was still Renée's brother and the last thing she wanted was to get on his bad side. It would cause Renée to choose, and she knew the brunette would choose family over friendship any day. And although she didn't show it a lot, she really did consider Renée a sister.
She whimpered, standing as straight as possible as she didn't have to have any more contact with Tristan's body than needed. Just when she was getting a hang of it, just able to clear her muddled mind, Tristan pulled her sharply against him, twirling around. She swallowed back the bile that rose to her throat, clamping her mouth shut and focusing on her breathing than how the world spun around her.
"That's right, Rose. Just give in to your desires. Tonight is a night for fun, yes? Renée won't mind if you had a little fun of your own. So you don't have to be concerned about her anymore, alright?"
She suddenly realised that he was slowly but surely steering her closer and closer to the edge of the dance floor and to one of the darker and quieter parts of the glasshouse. What happened to not leaving mid-song! She thought angrily, digging her heels into the ground as tried to stop their movement.
That didn't work as well as she had wanted, because he simply swept her off her feet and put her down a few feet from the wall. His hooded eyes had taken on a lustful shine as he drew back and let his eyes rake down her body, caressing it with his lecherous gaze. His mouth eased into a lazy grin as his hand slid down her back to pull up the slit in her skirt.
She stilled, angry tears prickling her eyes as the bile rose back up. She reached back and pinched his skin sharply, making him flinch and immediately pull his hand back.
"What the fuck," he hissed, his eyes widening dangerously.
"Don't touch me," Rose snapped, swallowing when her voice wavered.
"What is this, eh? You throw yourself at me all giggles and sensual touches and now that I finally get in the mood, you back off? Don't fuck with me, wench, you don't get to decide who dances to the music, I do."
She shuddered as he bared his teeth at her, his eyes flashing. He took a step towards her and she immediately took a step back, reaching behind her to feel the coolness of the glass against her burning fingertips.
Scorpius! Her mind screamed and she swallowed again, her eyes daring to tear away from his to scan the crowd to see if anyone had noticed them that she could gesture to for help.
"There's no use," he growled, reaching forwards and curling his hand around her neck, jerking her chin up roughly with his thumb. "Everyone's too drunk and too involved in snogging their own companions to notice their host make off with some woman."
Her blood boiled at the way he referred to her as some woman, his eyes raking down her again – like she was another one of his lady friends, hanging off his arm while trying to keep constant body contact with him and giggling at everything he said. But, by then, he was pressing her against the wall and she glanced over her shoulder to see that there was quite a steep fall behind her.
"Can't break the glass either, I made sure to reinforce it," he said, snapping her face towards him. "Now, stop resisting and just give in to your desires, Rose."
She struggled to pry his hand from her face as she pushed against him. "Don't—" she gasped, digging her nails into his palm, making him loosen his grip, "—call me by my name."
"Or what," he challenged, smashing her against the glass, making it shudder and tremble, the vibrations resounding through her entire body. "You can't do a single, fucking, thing to me."
He grabbed her chin and twisted her head up, smashing his mouth against hers and forcing his tongue through her gritted teeth. She struggled as he gripped one of her wrists, pounding her free fist against his shoulder. She screamed into his mouth, but it was lost to his tongue and the music that seemed to have somehow gotten louder. Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurring, her body feeling like dead weight atop her legs.
When he pulled back, she gasped painfully, coughing and heaving as she tried to give her lungs much needed oxygen. Her knees trembled weakly under her and she blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She coughed again and her knees gave in, causing her to slide down against the glass. He immediately grabbed her chin and jerked her back up, making her cry out in pain.
"What, don't tell me you've never tried BDSM?"
The words were so foreign. His voice was so foreign. The feel of his fingers gripping her was so foreign. The sharp taste of metal in her mouth was so foreign. The inability to break free and escape was so foreign. The trembling of her knees and the broken sobs that escaped her lips were so foreign. The place was so foreign. The music was so foreign. The fear was so foreign.
In all the horribly foreign things, there seemed to be only one thing that she could find familiar – that she clung onto like a lifeline.
"Scorpius," she croaked and Tristan's eyes widened, his lips curling in anger.
"You bitch! How dare you speak another man's name in my presence!" he drew his hand back, making to slap her, and she instantly flinched, expecting the sharp sting of his palm against her face – but it never came.
Instead, she was staring up into hard, shimmering, metallic eyes that reminded her of hardened lava from a volcano as it flowed over everything in its path and crushed it beneath its burning wrath.
"Scorpius," she rasped and was rewarded with a grim smile.
"Hello, Rose. I'm here now."
A/n: Agh this chapter was frustrating to writeee I really do not like Tristan. SORRY FOR THE CLIFFIES BUT FROM THIS POINT ON THEY WON'T STOP SO YEAH
Also I somehow dislike this chapter but meh whatever, drama drama drama.
What are your thoughts?