Shades of Grey
5. Signatures

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, J.K Rowling.
Author's Note: I think I'm way past apologies at this point. It's been months. Just enjoy.

Rose sat up in bed groggily as she heard her door open. Alex walked in with a cup of pumpkin juice in his hand. He handed it to her, and she took it willingly. As she drank, it washed down the decaying taste of the alcohol-induced morning breath she knew she was currently too tired to discard of properly. She set the cup down and looked up at Alex who stood patiently across the room.

"What happened to me?" she groaned.

"You got drunk…again," he said with a smile. "I had quite a job of convincing mum and dad not to leave you there."

Rose grimaced. "Thanks."

"At least they're pleased with you," he shrugged. "Maybe they won't yell at you for drinking your weight in alcohol."

"They're…pleased…with me?" Rose asked warily, the concept strange and unfamiliar. "Why?"

"Because of Draco!" he said as though it should have been obvious, and left the room with a chuckle.

She stared after him in open-mouthed horror. What?

. . .

Christopher Martell was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet when his daughter entered the room in a rage.

"Good morning, Roselyn," he said calmly, not looking up from his article. "Sleep well, I presume?"

"No."

"That's a shame." He didn't sound like it was a shame at all. He looked up from his paper with a grin, which dropped immediately. "You're not dressed."

"Not yet. Father—"

"What are you waiting for? We're leaving soon."

"To go where?" she asked, her plan of protestation momentarily gone.

"Out to lunch with the Malfoys. We have contracts to sign."

"For what?"

"Roselyn, now is not the time for games," he said, as thought chastising a small child. "Now go put on some clothes."

. . .

A short while later, Rose, Claire, and Christopher were at a fancy restaurant to which Rose had never been. Alex had very conveniently found a reason to excuse himself from the lunch. Rose wasn't particularly pleased.

The restaurant was open and bright, adorned in brilliant white and blue Christmas decorations. Narcissa and Draco stood waiting for them. Chris led them forward, greeting the Malfoys politely. They got the pleasantries out of the way immediately and followed a house elf to their table.

No one said a word regarding the reason they were there—Rose's supposed marriage to Draco—during the entire meal. They discussed the weather, the Ministry, Quidditch, everything except the marriage. Rose began growing impatient when the tables were cleared and coffee was ordered. Apparently, she wasn't the only one.

"I think we've stalled enough. Can we just get this over with?" Narcissa said in a clipped tone.

"Alright," Christopher agreed, pulling out a roll of several pieces of parchment, and smoothing them out on the table. He took a quill out of Claire's purse and his eyes shot between Rose and Draco. "I'm sure you both know the terms well enough by now. All I need are your signatures."

He held the quill out, waiting for one of them to take it.

"Er, Draco can I speak to you for a minute?" Rose said hastily, leaving the table before anyone could answer.

She waited outside, pacing in front of the door. Draco came out a minute later and stood in her path. She took a deep breath to prevent yelling at him.

"What did you do?"

"Last night…I may have accidentally told both of our parents that you chose me."

Rose stared at him, horrified. "Why aren't you saying anything to them?!"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That you lied!" she shrieked.

"I didn't lie!" he protested. "I was just a bit delusional."

"Whatever! The point is, you told them I chose you, and I didn't."

"I know!"

"So why don't you say something?"

Draco bit his lip for a second before answering. "I'm just…thinking."

"About how to stop this, I hope!"

"Not exactly…" He lowered his head and looked up at her through his lashes, like a small child confessing that it was he who broke the vase in the living room, not the dog, as he had originally said. "What if we signed?"

Rose's eyes widened as she immediately realized what he meant. "NO! No, no, no!"

"Why not? Think about it!" He grabbed the tops of Rose's arms, making sure she listened. "Who else would you chose? Blaise? You can't stand him."

"I can't stand you very much right now, either," she said, wrenching herself from his grip.

"I'm serious!" he growled, gripping her arms again. "Eventually, we're going to have to end up with someone. And we don't hate each other, or repulse each other. We're practically a match made in Heaven."

"You have a very twisted view of romance," she muttered angrily.

"Is that a yes?"

"What about Pansy?" she asked.

Draco let go, and took a step back. "I'd rather marry Potter than spend the rest of my life with her. Not sure if you noticed, but she's kind of a pain in the arse. Nice shag, but looks like a dog."

Rose laughed.

"You're a better shag, anyway," he added.

She slapped the back of his head, and stalked off toward their table. Everyone sat in patient silence, looking up at them as they approached. Rose watched as Draco grabbed the quill with confidence and scratched his practiced signature at the bottom of the parchment. He handed the quill over to Rose with a wink before taking his seat across the table. Her hand shook as she dipped it in the ink well.

She stared at the parchment, willing her name to appear there of its own accord, so she wouldn't have to do the condemning deed herself. She told herself that it wouldn't be so bad. She could handle being married to Draco. They were almost friends, after all. And, he was right, she didn't have very nice alternatives. Taking a deep breath, she slowly signed her name in a swishy hand below Draco's.

. . .

She thought she would feel different, but she didn't. She still felt like the exact same Roselyn Martell, except now, she saw more of Draco than before. He spent a good deal of the remaining Christmas holiday with her. There seemed to always be things to finalize, and sign, and plan, and replan, and resign, and refinalize—once something is finalized, shouldn't it be done? Evidently not.

Rose more than grateful to sit on the train for the journey back to Hogwarts, even if she was sitting in a compartment with Draco. Not that she didn't normally share a compartment with him, just that it was much more uncomfortable now. She was pretty much sick of him at this point. But, believe or not, that wasn't what made her the most uncomfortable. It wasn't sitting sandwiched between Draco and the window. It wasn't having only half the people in the compartment know about the engagement—if you can call it that—and half not. It wasn't even that she knew she would have to tell them all eventually. It was that Pansy Parkinson stepped in through the doors just before the train pulled out of the station.

"Sorry that took so long," she sighed, closing the door behind her. "It's mad out there. Everyone running around like they have no clue what they're doing. And bloody cold, too. Five more minutes out there and I would have frozen into an ice lolly. Move over, baby. And Merlin help me I wanted to crush the skulls of some of those first years."

She continued to prattle on about her oh-so-horrendous experience of getting on the train as she sat on the other side of Draco. She didn't seem to notice that not a single person was listening to her. Daphne shot a panicked look at Rose, motioning with her eyes from Draco, to Pansy, and back to her. Rose shook her head very discreetly and looked away. The glass on the window was fogged by the cold air outside, so she could hardly see anything as the train thundered down the tracks.

"…and they didn't even bother bringing presents. I mean, honestly, who goes to someone else's house for Christmas, and doesn't even bring presents? They brought mum and dad a bottle of wine, but who really cares about that, right? I got nothing. And then I had to take care of their disgusting kid. Ugh, it was gross. Draco, baby, when we get married, we are so not having children. Not ever. They are much more work than they're worth. You don't mind, right, baby?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Parkinson! Shut the fuck up!" Rose yelled, finally losing patience with her insipid rambling after almost ten minutes of it.

"Do you have a problem, Martell?" she snapped.

"Clearly."

"Rose, stop it. We talked about this," Draco said in a warning tone.

"Oh, fuck you. Don't you even talk to me. I am so sick and tired of you telling me what to do. 'Roselyn, don't argue with Pansy.' 'Roselyn, don't talk back to my mother.' 'Roselyn, fetch me some tea.' 'Roselyn, wrap my Christmas present in silver paper.' 'Roselyn, wear something more revealing.' Just shut up."

"What was that last one?" Pansy asked.

"This is not going to work," Rose huffed, standing up. "Just not going to work."

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco stood up to block her way out of the compartment.

"I'm going to find somewhere else to sit. I can't honestly stand the sight of you anymore."

"Don't do anything rash, Rose," he growled, grabbing her arm.

"Stop. Telling. Me. What. To. Do," she replied through gritted teeth, prying herself out of his grip.

"Excuse us," Draco said, and dragged Rose out of the compartment.

Once safely in the train's corridor, and away from the others, he looked straight at her. His eyes were fierce. Anger turned his blue-grey eyes into hard steel. He clenched his fists at his side, and spoke through his teeth as though trying his very hardest not to explode.

"Here's how this is going to work," he began. "We're going to be married soon. And, as my wife-to-be, you will obey me as you should. Is that clear?"

"Oh, please," Rose scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You don't scare me. You can't just order me around. I'm going to be your wife, not your slave."

"Is there a difference?" he smirked.

"How dare you!" she half-shrieked. Rose lifted her hand to slap Draco across the face, but he caught her by the wrist, slapped her with his other hand instead, pinned her against the wall, and bent his face down right beside her ear.

"Do not test me, Roselyn Martell. Or I swear to Merlin, I will make this so much worse for you than it already is. Now go back in there and be a good little girl. We have to tell our other friends the good news."

He kissed her cheek as he pulled back, and opened the compartment door, motioning for her to go in first. Her face still holding the shock of being hit, she stepped inside and sat down in her seat.

A/N: Please leave your opinions and complaints in the review. I'm sure you have some after that fiasco. Thank you.

Happy Columbus Day to all of mis Americanos. And Happy Thanksgiving to you silly Canadians. :]
[Both of which, I am fully aware, are tomorrow.]