Chapter 21

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Rose stared into the mirror and adjusted her dress. Shireen had convinced her to buy it a year ago, but she'd never gotten a chance to wear it until now. It was a rich burgundy red, the fitted strapless bodice hugging her figure before flowing out into a wide, knee length skirt. Ginny had helped her transform the small crinoline that came with it, lengthening it until it poked out from beneath the skirt and coloring it a deep gold. An antique golden locket from her grandmum Prentice sat in the hollow of her throat, and her hair was set in loose curls around her shoulders. She bit her lip anxiously, then winced and fixed her crimson lipstick.

Donna poked her head into the bathroom. "Oi, you almost done? Other people might need the facilities, you know." She paused and whistled, her green eyes widening. "Blimey, you look beautiful!"

Rose blushed and looked down. "Thanks. You're lookin' pretty gorgeous, yourself."

She turned crimson and tucked her hair behind her ears. She was wearing an old-fashioned empire-waist gown, the bodice made of a deep purple velvet and the skirt a lavender chiffon. "You think so?"

"I know so." Rose winked at her. "David Morgan's a lucky bloke."

Donna opened her mouth to reply and yelped, digging her hand into her pocket suddenly and yanking out the glowing silver key on its chain. She peered at it and grimaced, throwing it on the counter in disgust. "Oh, that is enough. Soon as I see him, I'm telling that idiot that he needs to make you one of those keys himself. I'm not some bloody owl." Rose was staring at her, blinking, and she pursed her lips and thrust the key at her. "It's for you."

Tell Rose to get down here already. I've been waiting for ages.

Rose rolled her eyes and tossed it on the counter, grabbing her gold silk wrap and slipping her wand in her pocket. "I'd better head down before he starts something on fire. The loo's all yours."

"Thanks. Later!"

The Doctor was waiting outside Gryffindor tower, slouched against the wall and tugging on his collar. Rose's breath caught at the sight of him, a slender silhouette of black and white against the iron-grey stonework of the walls. Then she saw his feet, and couldn't keep the smirk from her face. "Nice shoes, Doctor."

He straightened guiltily, pulling his hands from his pockets. "Well, black tie, black trainers. I thought it'd fit—blimey." His eyes widened as he caught sight of her, and she smiled mischievously and spun a little, her skirt flaring out with the motion.

"D'you like it?"

His mouth worked soundlessly before he cleared his throat, putting on an amused expression despite the blush that still reddened his face. "Bit literal, don't you think?"

"Oh, shut up." She shifted the wrap around her shoulders and moved to take his arm, looking up in surprise when he jumped away from her. "Doctor, what…?"

"I almost forgot—here." He reached into his voluminous pockets and pulled out a small corsage, a burgundy and gold daylily pinned to a thick golden ribbon. With his other hand, he tugged on his earlobe. "This is a Muggle thing, right? They showed something like it on one of Donna's shows. I, um, I asked Donna what colours you were wearing."

"It's perfect, Doctor." She held out her hand and he tied it on her carefully, letting his long fingers caress her wrist.

He blinked and swallowed, then looked up and thrust his elbow at her. "On to the dance, then?"

She took his arm and beamed up at him. "Lead on, Sir Doctor."

He grinned. "Sir Doctor. I like the sound of that. Well, then! Onwards and upwards, Dame Rose! Or actually sideways and down the stairs, but you know what I mean." He led them off, chattering about the historical roots of honours system, and Rose followed him with a smile.

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The doors to the Great Hall creaked open, and she gasped. The whole place had been transformed—a cloud of fairy lights drifted high in the air, their golden glow mingling with the diamond-bright stars that glittered from the ceiling. Small swarms of them circled in intricate patterns above the small, round tables set along the side of the hall as living chandeliers, and the haunting melodies of the animate orchestra echoed through the hall. A riot of ivy covered the stone walls and wrapped around the pillars, and some students had already taken to the marble-paved dance floor.

The Doctor whistled. "Whoever they paid to do the decorating, it was worth it." He peered up at the glowing chandeliers as they walked past. "I wonder what spell they're using to keep them in formation?"

"Is that really what you're going to focus on?" He blinked down at her, and she grinned and took his hands. "Dance with me?"

He huffed and rolled his eyes, but the upwards twitch at the corners of his mouth gave him away. "Well, if you insist."

Some time later, wrapped in his arms, Rose gave him a tongue-touched grin. "Since when did you dance?"

"Since I was a kid." He smiled softly, remembering. "Dad and Mum used to dance together in the kitchen, and I badgered Dad into teaching me how. He still claims he won her heart with his foxtrot."

She sighed a little. "Your dad sounds wonderful."

"He is, Rose. And he'd love you." He paused, breaking their rhythm and bumping into the couple next to them. His eyes were wide. "I mean, um…"

She bit her lip. "It'd be nice to meet him someday."

His eyes shot to hers and he smiled shyly. "That would be nice, yeah." He lifted a hand to touch her face, his fingers brushing against her lip. She made a quiet noise, a hum somewhere between curiosity and approval, and he blushed. "You'd—ah—your lipstick was smudged a little."

Rose chuckled breathlessly. "Can't have that."

The Doctor glanced to the side. "I'm feeling a bit thirsty. Drink?"

She sighed. "That'd be lovely, ta."

He led them off the dance floor, giving her hand a squeeze before heading over to the punch bowl. Rose leaned against the ivy and let her wrap fall loose around her shoulders, enjoying the chilly press of the leaves behind her. Donna flashed by on the dance floor, wincing away from the stomping feet of David Morgan, and Rose grinned. Hermione was pacing around the outskirts of the room, scanning the whole party, and Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Rose schooled her face into seriousness as Hermione's gaze passed over her—she'd run into Ginny earlier in the day, when the tall redhead was planning her escape route from the castle for the time of the dance. Apparently Harry was planning on meeting her in Hogsmeade, and then they were going to portkey away.

A lanky figure moving carefully against the wall caught her eye, and Rose turned. It was one of the blue-clad decorators, a tall, skinny man in loosely fitted robes. He was staring out at the students, and she frowned. A moment later, and he nodded—the student he'd been looking at was Koschei.

The Doctor approached, carrying two tall, skinny flutes of fizzing liquid, and she moved closer to him. "Thanks." The decorator slipped out a small doorway and as she took a sip, Koschei followed. Rose frowned and set her drink down, catching the Doctor's hand.

"Rose?"

"Let's go—I just saw one of the decorators go off with Koschei." She lowered her voice. "One of the decorators that the Aurors didn't have any warning about until this morning."

His face hardened, and he set his drink down with a clank. "Right. Lead on."

They slipped out as the music changed, the flurry of movement on the dance floor covering their exit. Rose paused outside the door, grimacing at the clack of her golden heels on the stone floor. She stepped out of them and shivered at the chill on her bare feet. "Wait just a mo', yeah?" Biting her lip in concentration, she moved her wand in a deliberate movement and sighed in relief as the heel shrank and her shoes were transfigured into a sensible pair of flats. She stepped back into them and caught the Doctor's hand, tugging at him. "Come on, they can't have gotten far."

They were in one of the lesser-used hallways leading off from the Great Hall—the Doctor whispered that it was from the days before house elves at Hogwarts, and Rose shushed him. He caught her arm suddenly and pulled her into an alcove, and they both caught their breaths. A set of footsteps was coming from behind them, and soon Martha came into view. She paused and pursed her lips. "All right, I know you're around here somewhere. I saw you leave the dance. With as much sneakin' around as you do, Doctor, you'd think you'd be better at hiding it." The Doctor let out a breath and stepped out, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Snogging in alcoves, Doctor? Really?"

Rose stepped out behind him. "We're not snogging, Martha—we're following Koschei. He just left the dance, one of the decorators with him."

Her gaze sharpened, and she straightened her shoulders. "Which way did he go?"

"'M not sure—we didn't follow him right away."

Her jaw tightened. "I know these halls. He's probably headed down for the next junction—I've caught several Slytherins there, and they always seem to think they're the only one who knows about it. Follow me, and be quiet."

They fell in line behind her, creeping down the hallway. A few minutes later, the Doctor raised a hand and gestured for them to stop. Rose and Martha came closer to him, and he spoke in a hurried whisper. "He's got a proximity charm set up around the next corner—good thing I know my way around them. We'd better vanish, though."

Martha nodded. "Good idea."

He muttered the disillusionment charm on all three of them, and Rose shivered as she felt the familiar trickle down her shoulder blades. The Doctor's hand caught hers and his fingers entwined tightly with hers, and she followed his lead as he lead them forward. A muttered charm and a flash of orange light and he pulled her forward, hissing for Martha to follow them. Once they stepped through the proximity charm they could hear Koschei's voice.

"I'm telling you, this will solve your problem. I've checked and double-checked the research, and this will give you what you need."

The voice that responded was rough and angry. "If you are incorrect, it will not be well for you."

Rose could almost hear Koschei's smirk as he spoke. "It's a good thing I'm correct, then."

The other person laughed, and it was far from a happy sound. "Well, then. You'd better get to work."

Koschei choked a little, clearing his throat immediately. "What, me?"

"Unless you think there will be a problem."

"No, none at all. I hardly think Hogwarts is the best location for this, though."

"Too much time has passed, and the hour of the rite draws near. We must find the heir before it is too late."

"Very well, then. You've got the… ingredients?"

"Do not waste them, boy."

"I wouldn't dream of it." There was a small hiss, and the scent of burnt skin wafted through the air. The Doctor's hand tightened on Rose's as Koschei cried out in pain and surprise. "What was that for, you cretin?"

"This is no laughing matter, young Rosier. Our Lord's fate is in your unworthy hands—"

"If I'm so unworthy, then you can do the spell yourself." The silence enveloped them for a moment, and he snorted. "I thought so. Now back off and let me do my work."

Small clinks and rough scraping sounds echoed through the still air of the passageway, and Koschei began to chant.

The Doctor's grip on Rose's hand—already tight—became a vise. She flinched, and felt him lean closer to her, his breath hissing against her hair. "That's my spell. Rose, they're using my spell!"

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