Subtitle: Some People are Very, Very Violent, and Others Have Severe Personality Issues. Others Have Both. The Rose Arc: Part I.

In other words: I've gotten a few questions regarding Rose' and Adrian's characters. As Rose plays a key role in Harry's early life as a Slytherin, we now embark on the two-part "Rose Arc" that'll explain who these two silly fellows are—in good time.

On the 'a few questions' note—to Nightshade, Twilight, Hortensia, and Bloody Phantom, thank you so much for reviewing! To everyone else—and I do get alerts when you watch my story, so I know you're out there—I BEG you to review and critique. Really, the main reason I'm writing this story is because my writing (obviously) needs work. So any comments regarding plot, characters, writing style, your pet goat are greatly appreciated!

Now I'll shut up. As always, enjoy!

Rose Hawthorne despised flying. Flying brought back memories of a late night escape made ten years before. It had once been exciting—to her four year old self—but later, when she understood that her parents were not coming back, the trauma of the memories became associated with flying. A few years later her brother had tried to teach her to fly, and she'd made it a few feet off the mansion balcony before she'd started screaming. The broom sped off, zooming in circles until it had crashed into a tree, leaving the tiny girl dangling from the branches. The limb broke and she hit her head on the trunk and couldn't remember the incident for a whole week. When she did remember, however, she had stormed into her brother's room and lit the broomstick on fire, reducing it to nothing more than a heap of ash. It had been her first magic.

And so, Rose's first year at Hogwarts she had downright refused to go to flying lessons. It had earned her detention with Severus, sorting stunned lacewing flies by eye color for every afternoon that she was supposed to be in class. It was dreadful work that anyone fully sane would have given up, but Rose barely complained—at least she wasn't flying.

As coincidence would have it, it was also in her first year—and in fact her first week—that found Rose dangling by her ankle midair. It was unfortunate for Adrian LaConner that despite being a first-year Rose had already memorized half of the spells in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One, and had somewhere along the lines picked up a couple of nasty, if simple, hexes. Combining the hasty magic of an uncontrolled young witch with the intensified reaction to being swept off her feet and dangled midair left Adrian's face half swollen with boils filled with yellow puss. Rose had achieved being released, falling gracelessly to the floor, but a moment later she was halfway down the hall, bleeding and unconscious on the floor.

But that was a story for another time.

With all her inhibitions towards flying, Rose felt very little pity as she looked down at Harry Potter. The boy was quite upset about losing his right to flying lessons: a deaf, blind, comatose St. Mungos' patient would have been able to sense his outrage from a mile away. At least Rose, who was contentedly relaxing in her chair until the boys had sat down, could see from her vantage point the strain in Potter's facade as he watched the other first years leaving for flying lessons.

An ungracious snort accompanied Adrian as he took his seat across the small table the pair had long since claimed as their own. "What's got Potter's panties in a bunch?" he asked Rose, kicking his feet up.

She sighed and explained everything as she best knew it: the rouge broom, Potter's fall, Severus's banning of flying practice. She had heard half of it from Severus, half from the first years in the table, but still was missing a key fact.

"It wasn't you, Adrian," she added at the end of her explanation. "Was it?"

His grey-brown eyes met her dark green ones—a good sign, as Adrian was in the habit of turning away when she'd called him out. "I'm not stupid enough to attack someone like precious Potter in front of a teacher, Rose," he said slowly. "And I am much less interested in cursing objects than cursing people. But what about the other brat—why is pretty little Zabini junior still skulking around here? Doesn't he still have lessons, even if that putz Potter got out of them?"

"They earned themselves a detention from Professor McGonagall, making trouble with that brat Granger."

Adrian laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your tone is almost approving of the brats. Some sort of house-based favoritism?" he guessed. "Now isn't that a bit unfair? Haven't I always shown you that all first years are on equal grounds? Except for the really bratty ones, of course."

"Well, Granger is really bratty!"

"Oh, well then something must be done about that! I dare say there's more than a few spells I have yet to test out, and there was that awfully botched hair-coloring potion from a few years ago that I'm sure is somewhere in my trunk-"

"Don't even think about it. My neck is on the chopping block already, and if I have to explain to Severus one more time why I couldn't keep you in line-

"Oh relax, I'll wipe her memory afterwards. No one will ever know!"

"I'm going to dinner," snapped Rose abruptly. Adrian gave her an amused look and stood with her.

"It might be dangerous to the public if you go out alone like this," he said in an almost purring voice. Reaching out he grabbed Rose's elbow, pulled her towards him, and locked their arms together. It was an awkward arrangement, as the top of the petite Rose's head reached Adrian's shoulder. Had she not known Adrian better she would have pulled away, but Rose knew that would only result in a drawn-out dance of hex and counter-curse until their arms were practically fused together. Having been to Madame Pomfrey for that very reason before, Rose decided to let Adrian have his fun.

In all truth, Rose was actually much less riled up than Adrian made her out to be. If she had been angry, she would have called out the Weasley twins, Fred and George, as they snuck out of the kitchens, arms heavily laden with cakes. She would have threatened Peeves, who was firing spit-wads at second years, with the Bloody Baron. She would have hexed Maria Dunbar when she caught of her through the window—because there was no-one who was quite so despicably dull as Maria Dunbar. But Rose didn't hex anyone, she just walked quietly up the dungeon halls into the foyer and through to the Great Hall, arms linked with Adrian's.

Rose liked to eat early on Fridays, though it was nearly five o'clock by the time they made it to the hall. Most of the younger students were still in class or outside enjoying the last of the sunny weather. Rose and Adrian sat near the end of the Slytherin table, at a segment deserted by all others except a fourth-year student reading from an old book of goblin war-lore.

"Have a good day?" Adrian asked casually, piling chow mein into a heap on his plate. Rose shrugged; it hadn't been anything special.

"How about you?" she asked. "I am glad to see you're still alive, you know—I haven't seen you since Peeve's water balloons, and Hogwarts—let alone the Slytherin House—isn't that big."

"Oh, well, I've been out causing trouble, of course." There was a sort of brisk lightness to his voice as Adrian looked up at the head table.

"You haven't been experimenting again, have you? Remember how angry Severus was when you blew up the extra potions lab?"

"There have been too many pests in that old lab for me to use, and besides, I have my own space in the NEWT lab now-the old fool is back, I see," Adrian deflected

It was first at Severus that Rose looked. He had his usual bored expression painted on his face, though he was staring down the table with a focus that he usually did not warrant in the Great Hall. She followed the look—Professor Grubbly-Plank, the substitute for care of magical creatures; Sprout, Dumbledore, Quirrel, Flitwick... Nothing out of the ordinary.

"He must have gotten back this afternoon. I didn't see him at lunch," Rose said offhandedly, remembering Adrian's comment. The comings and goings of the headmaster were of little interest to Rose. In her time at Hogwarts she had tried to spend as little time in the presence of the man as she could. In her third year Adrian and her had been sent to his office for forcing a Gryffindor girl into an unbreakable vow, but Dumbledore had not so much as raised his voice when he doled out their punishments. Severus' anger had been much more frightening, and made the whole visit to Dumbledore's office seem like a joke. It was Adrian who'd spent more time in the man's office every year than most students managed their whole time at Hogwarts.

"Haven't you noticed it?" Adrian asked, interrupting her thoughts. Rose swallowed her spaghetti too soon, but after the aid of a goblet of pumpkin juice regained her composure.

"Noticed what?" she demanded, cutting in to Adrian's fit of laughter. He waved one hand towards the high table, but still Rose saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Snape," Adrian explained. "He only ever comes to dinner when the old joke is here."

Rose shrugged. It was true, as far as she could remember, but she couldn't see how it could be important. "So?"

Adrian was playing with his chow mein, pushing the vegetables and meat into their own piles. "Aren't you curious as to why?"

"Not really."

"Oh come on, Rose. There's got to be a reason."

"Right," said Rose. Adrian's little obsessions could get quite irritating. "If you're so curious, why don't you just ask him?"

Adrian laughed. "Of course you would suggest that. I can just see you—'Severus, why do you avoid dinner? It's not healthy to be a recluse, you know.'"

"I would not!" snapped Rose. "Because I don't care!"

At this point Rose just wanted Adrian to shut up and eat his dinner. It was a relief to see him in the flesh after the last few days of his absence as he really was her best friend, but he had no sensitivity towards other people's feelings speak of. Well, that wasn't right: he thrived off of the feelings of others. Rose's anger was highly amusing to him, almost as amusing as the fear of a first year when he caught them alone in the halls, or the girls he got too close to when they had no gut to push him away.

"But you do care, don't you?" he said maliciously. "You're always worried about Snape—"

Rose had her wand out before she could think about what she was doing. She waved it, not thinking of any spell so much as commanding Adrian up, onto the table, and spat, "Tarentellega!"

So he had managed to get her angry—it was worth it, watching Adrian dance about uncontrollably on the table. Rose knew there was a plethora of hexed coming to mind as he glared down at her, but with the headmaster and Severus both watching, what could he do? Amid the cheers and clapping that the student body had broken in to, Rose checked her temper, taking a deep breath before looking up to her friend.

"What a fine jig you have chosen to demonstrate, Adrian!" she exclaimed with mock surprised. "Though be careful you don't knock over the soup-oh, and now you've gone and ruined the spaghetti. What a waste. Don't you think you ought to come down?"

"What do you think you're doing, Rose!" squeaked the strained voice of Percy Weasley as he skidded to a halt across the table.

"Me?" asked Rose. "Why, I'm just eating my supper." She took a bite of spaghetti to prove her point. Percy was hardly going to fall for such a simple cover-up, and drew his wand.

"Wait-!" urged Rose, but it was too late. Adrian turned around slowly, his limbs no longer dancing, as Rose tried to slip out of her seat. Yet they were not the only trouble makers in the Great Hall that evening, and Fred and George Weasley could not have chosen a better time to activate a spell that sent the four house tables flying into the air-carrying Adrian away. Rose darted out of the hall as McGonagall came storming in brandishing her wall. She imagined it wouldn't be too much trouble for her to skirt her prefect duties this once-after all, the head boy was in the midst of the trouble, and he had more of a responsibility towards dealing with the matter than she did.

Of course, that was disregarding the fact that even wizards using tables to swordfight could not stop Adrian from chasing after the girl down the steps and through the doors into one of Hogwarts' many grassy courtyards. Rose was lucky, though; the boy's wand remained in his cloak as he tackled her to the ground.

"Not fair!" she laughed. "I'm the one in a skirt and these shoes are a pain to run in!"

"Then why do you wear them?" Adrian demanded, sitting triumphantly on her back.

"Because they're nice." Rose tried to sit up, but the boy wouldn't budge. "Adrian, you're going to get grass stains all over my cloak. Get off!"

"No, I rather like the cushioning, thanks."

"Adrian!"

"What's that? You don't mind? How considerate of you!"

Adrian did not realize that while his wand was tucked away, hers was in her sleeve, and quickly moved to her hand. She twisted her arm to point it at him. "Levi Corpus!"

It was sweet revenge, every time she used that spell on Adrian, for all the times that he had dangled her in the air. However, she couldn't hold up the spell on her stomach, so all it really did was blast the older boy into the air-and off her. He landed halfway to the stairs.

This time Rose didn't run, even though when he stood back up, glaring, he really did have his wand out. She had the upper hand, having landed the first spell. Or that was the theory, at least. It didn't help her case that he knew more than his fair share of hexes and spells that may or may not have been banned from the Hogwarts grounds in his arsenal. Rose's arm quickly grew numb as she held up her shielding spell.

"What's the matter, Rose?" the boy demanded. "Can't handle me anymore? Too chicken to take me on?"

"You wish!" snapped Rose. She made a split-second decision as he paused in his hex-hurling for his next taunt and broke her shield. "Verso Adrian!"

Adrian spun up into the air, twisting about and landing on the ground. He was up quickly, but Rose was moving faster. "Vertiginos!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Nodocrinis!"

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice shrieked.

Rose shouldn't have let herself get distracted, but Hermione's panic was startling. She had just enough time to regain herself to shout "Protego!" and stop Adrian's next spell—"Aguamenti!"—but the force of the jet of water it produced threw her backwards. Rose pushed off the ground as quickly as she could. "Mobiliarbus!" she waved her wand at a nearby tree, which transplanted itself in front of Adrian, creating a physical shield. Of course, it took Adrian only a moment to light the plant up in blue flames, but Rose had regained her composure. For now she would ignore the staring group of first years that had amassed in the walkway, staring at the pair wide-eyed.

" Locamotor roots!" she snapped, and the roots of the tree that was now just a charred stump dug up out of the ground and wrapped around Adrian's ankles, pulling him down.

"Deprimo!"

A sudden gust of wind swirled about Rose, seeming to slice into her from many angles with icy coldness. But she countered it quickly; "aertemporo!"

"Incendio!" the roots blew off of Adrian's legs, and he jumped up, facing her in a momentary stand still.

Hermione couldn't have chosen a worse time to speak up again. "Dueling on the grounds is against the rules!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Shut up, you idiot girl! Petrificus totalus!" she snapped at Adrian.

"Rock waddiwasi!"

"Fiosabulo!"

"Levicorpus!"

"Graviscrus!"

The last two hexes ricochetted off of one another, one half the blast beaming straight towards Adrian, who's reflexes saved him as he ducked, and the other towards Hermione, who was less ready to dodge. Her tiny body flew up into the air, littering her books about the courtyard as the girl screamed.

Adrian and Rose looked at each other, realizing that neither had their wands ready, and relaxed. "A draw, then," allowed Adrian. Rose laughed coldly.

"Hardly. You barely ducked that last one."

"So? I did duck. You spent the whole time just blocking. What kind of dueling is that?"

"The smart type. The best offense is a good defense!"

"Let me down!" screamed Hermione from high above them, disrupting their banter.

Adrian looked lazily to over where the first years, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, were pointing and giggling at the girl madly. "You lot just come from flying?" he asked. Someone nodded, and he looked back to the floating girl. "Flying lessons, huh?" he commented. He flicked his wand out at her. "Looks like you need some work on that, Granger! Allow me to help!"

Hermione's mane of hair became a blur as she spun about rapidly, losing her voice to her shrieking, much to the grounded first years' delight. "Let—me—down!" she managed to scream again.

Adrian let her twirl about some more, but looked over to Rose. "So, Rose?" he said. "What do you think? Should I let her down?"

Rose held back a smile as she tried to put on her poker face. "Mr. LaConner! This is a most inappropriate use of magic! Ten points from Slytherin, and put that girl down at once!"

"As you wish, miss prefect!"

Perhaps it was inappropriate for a prefect to stand by and watch as a first-year student was dropped twenty meters through the air, but Rose was perfectly content to watch the girl fall flat on her face. However, as she was brought to reality by the sickening thud of Hermione hitting the ground and the strangled sob coming from the girl, Rose quickly drew her wand and ran towards the shaking body.

Over five years of bickering and dueling with Adrian, Rose had learned a few things, the first of which she had completely ignored. The blond wizard had little regard towards the bodily condition of his opponents; so long as they did not die he did not care whether they were white as a sheet, bloody, and with an arm jutting at a harsh angle as the other pressed against ribs as Hermione was. Rose swore under her breath. "Try to stay still… somniare." The girl's eyes fluttered shut. "Get Professor Snape!" she snapped towards the first years angrily. "That was too much, Adrian."

"She'll be fine. You've recovered from worse, haven't you?"

"That's not the point. You've really done it this time—tergeo."

"Really done it? The only thing I've done was a favor—for you."

"How's that?" Rose demanded, jumping up to face the boy. "You just brutally injured a first-year on my watch! For Merlin's sake—can't you think for once?"

"You did say she was annoying you—"

"Let me through!"

Professor McGonagall burst through the mass of wide-eyed first years. Her eyes flashed as she saw Granger's pale body, but she stayed level-headed as she knelt down beside the girl. "Miss Hawthorne—what's going on here?"

Rose glared fiercely at Adrian, who just shrugged nonchalantly and shoved his wand into his cloak, crossing his arms to watch events from the side. "She fell about… twenty meters, Professor. I knocked her out so she wouldn't move anything. I think she's broken some ribs—I sent someone for Severus already—I'd fix them myself, but I can't say that would be the wisest idea."

"I would think not," snapped McGonagall. She looked up to see Severus coming through the crowd, tailed closely by Professor Dumbledore and the unlikely messenger Ron Weasley. "Oh, Severus. Please, take a look."

The two men knelt over the girl's body, and Severus' deft hands gingerly moved the awkward arm and laying it in the grass beside her. He pressed lightly against her torso, the girl moaning in response.

In the meantime, Dumbledore was standing again. Gone was the cheery face of the man who toasted at feasts as his eyes pierced into Adrian. For once the boy looked down and away, as if suddenly aware of the gravity of his actions, and he did not meet the headmaster's eyes again.

"How bad is it, Severus?" asked McGonagall as Severus trailed his wand lightly over the girl's body, muttering voicelessly in a silent spell. After a minute he grew still, then let his wand rest over her arm. "Episky." With a revolting snap the girl's arm slid back into place, and the man sat back on his heels. "She's broken five ribs," he said quietly. "As she's already unconscious, it would be best to take her to Poppy to mend them all at once." McGonagall nodded and stood, pulling out her wand. "Levicorpus."

The crowd of first years parted as McGonagall floated the girl's body through, walking towards the castle. Rose stared after her silently, itching to move away from Severus but having no valid reason to. Dumbledore turned towards them when the pair was out of sight, fixing Severus with a grave look. "I'm afraid Mr. LaConner and I are long overdue for a talk. I will send him to you later." His solemn blue eyes flicked to Rose. "Good day, Miss Hawthorne."

She tripped over her words: "Good eving—evening, Professor." The same silent audience watched as the old man and the blond boy walked down the cleared path, and this time when the doors to the hall shut, the first years looked back expectantly at Rose. The girl swallowed and urged her composure to return—it was her job to conduct the younger students.

"Supper's been served already, so move along!" she said as primly as she could muster. "Mr Weaseley, ten points for being the messenger—and don't tell your brother, you hear?"

"Right!"

So while the first years cleared out of the courtyard, Rose and Severus stood silently by, the final audience. As the doors shut for the third time, the man turned to his student, a darkness in his eyes that Rose could only expect meant trouble for her.

"Rose. You have the walk to my office to get your story together, and then I would be very interested to hear what Granger was doing high enough in the air to leave a first-year sized dent in the green."