Rose Weasley stared at her reflection in the large broken mirror. Her hair was hard to contain and threatened to burst free of the french braid that hung in between her shoulder blades, growing up during a war had taken its toll. The only colour she saw in her wild, uncontrollable curls was a dull brown that was not as red as her cousins and not as vibrant as her mother's. The eyes she saw were the same brown and were accompanied by dark bags that permanently sat under her eyes. Her face was fine boned and long with a delicately rounded chin and a sharply pronounced jawline. Her nose was straight and narrow and covered in a smattering of freckles which carried on over both cheeks. Over the years she had come to realise that she had inherited her father's figure rather that her mother's short and curvy one.
Hermione's voice echoed through the tunnels and snapped Rose out of her scrutinising trance. Saved once again by her mother she turned on heel and left the reflection behind.
"Find anything?" Hermione's eyes were no longer wide with hope as they once had been on her first investigation. Rose shook her head weakly and averted her gaze to the moulding roof of the muggle apartment.
"It looks as though Deatheaters know how to cast a Glamour." Hermione indicated to the filthy apartment, raising her wand she muttered a counterspell under her breath. The furniture started to patch itself up and new pieces appeared. The mould Rose was staring at disappeared completely and was replaced by a small yet expensive looking chandelier. In short the abandoned apartment was in reality a well decorated condo located in central London.
A picture sitting on the ledge of the lit fireplace caught Rose's attention. In the picture was a family of three, the woman in the picture looked like any other pureblood female; she was beautifully dressed with every strand of hair perfectly in place. It was the two men in the picture that made her heart pound and her hair stand on end. Both were crowned with their unmistakeable white-blond hair. Rose stumbled back in shock.
"Mama we have to go. Now." Rose whirled around to look for her mother and found her lying on the cold, black and white tile floor. Her eyes flicked from her unconscious mother to the pair of leather boots beside her fanned out, halo of hair. Slowly her gaze travelled up denim jeans, over a navy t-shirt and black biker jacket, and settled on the cold, steel grey eyes glaring at her with a burning hatred only she could match. Looking back at her mother she wordlessly and wandlessly apparated her back to the caverns. The boy with grey eyes flared his nostrils in fury and flicked his wand at her. The last thing she saw was his white-blond crown, tickling dark eyebrows.
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