A/N : well, in the last few months, I have been, as usual, incredibly busy. I had IB testing—if you don't know what that is, consider yourself blessed—and graduation from high school, along with all the tedious events that go along with that. I have also started work on a sci-fi/fantasy story of rather epic proportions. I also have rekindled the flame of hatred I have for "the Rose arc." So forgive me for my tardiness. I will, of course, try to be a bit quicker with the next chapter, but nothing is ever guaranteed. If I am not on top of my game in the next few weeks, it will be a very, very long wait (again) as I will be leaving for a three week exchange to Japan, then getting ready for Uni.

In any case, now that you know my life's story, here's the final bit of the Rose arc—and may we avoid following her for quite some time! As always, enjoy!

Chapter 13 – In Which Rose Fights, Eats, and Worries

The door to Severus' office closed quietly behind the professor as Rose took her customary seat. "Now," the man said monotonously. "Explain."

Rose held the silence for a minute. In truth she had not thought much of what she would say to the man, having spent the whole walk dwelling on ways she could possibly get revenge on Adrian for this whole mess―assuming he came back from the headmasters' in one piece―and taking points from a pair of Gryffindors who apparently thought that behind a suit of armor was a private enough place to attempt to eat each other's faces. "The first years from flying were passing through the courtyard where Adrian and I were, ah, practicing," she said at last, "and one of Adrian's spells ricocheted into her."

"I have difficulty believing that," the man said coldly, making Rose roll her eyes.

"Oh, come now, Severus―she went flying. How could that be a spell not meant for me?"

"What sort of pathetic explaination is that?" he demanded. The girl flinched. "You involved a first year in your little games—and you're supposed to be the responsible prefect."

"She got in the way!" Rose retorted. "It's not my fault that the brat couldn't understand to stay back, is it?"

"You continue to miss the point. This behavior..."

"You expect better from me, is that it?" Rose demanded. "Then why didn't you stop Adrian from chasing after me yourself, in the Great Hall? You knew he'd be wanting to blow off some steam. You knew we'd have a little fun."

"Even if Adrian wanted to 'blow off some steam', as you put it—you have always been the one who is supposed to stop him. It's the responsibility you took by declaring yourself his friend, by accepting the role of prefect!"

"My responsibility?" Rose laughed a bit. "Oh, it's my responsibility to keep a wizard both two years older than me and borderline psychotic under control, is it? I'm sure the Board of Education would just be thrilled to hear one of its fine educators declaring that."

"Even if you are going to deny that you have taken that responsibility onto yourself," Severus growled, "You cannot deny your role as an upperclassman and prefect to the first years. You are supposed to keep things like this from happening, not be the cause of them."

"I'm supposed to look after my first years. I'm supposed to look after the Slytherins," she corrected. "Granger is not someone that I am supposed to be protecting, any more than I am supposed to be protecting—oh, the Weasley twins!"

Severus sighed. "You are still missing the point!"

"What point, Severus?" she demanded. "I told you what happened and you continue to blather on about my responsibilities. I think it is you who is missing the point!"

"What is the role of prefect to you? With this attitude you've suddenly developed maybe I should I have the role revoked."

"Oh, because I'm the problem when Dumbledore's gone and made Adrian LaConner head boy."

"Yes, you are, because what Adrian does and does not do in relation to his role does not concern what you are to carry out yours. Your role is to look after the rest of the student body, both in enforcing the rules, which you seem to have had no trouble with on the way here, and preventing injury to any student. Including Miss Granger."

"She's just a stupid mudblood!"

That was it; she was in for it now. Despite the haze of Rose's anger, she almost found herself worried that she had just jumped over the line of Hogwarts' most intimidating teacher. And she'd made it personal. But she was angry enough at this point she almost didn't care.

Severus had frozen. He looked up slowly, meeting her eyes with a shocked disgust. Suddenly he straightened up, and with a wave of his hand Rose fell back into the rickety desk chair. "Rose Hawthorne," came his hiss of a voice. It was like a blast of icy wind on a hot day. She'd rarely heard Severus shout, and his quiet voice was probably much more frightening, but now his words carried with them a sort of tension, a quaver that suggested he was fighting to keep it controlled. "Your parents died trying to suppress pure-blood supremacy thinking, turning against the dark lord, sacrificing their lives―"

"I don't care what my parents did!" Rose snapped. "They wound up dead, and a fat lot of good that does their supposed cause."

"You dare speak of―"

"I'm not their child, Severus," Rose cut in. The chair clattered behind her as she stood again, not liking the way the professor was glaring down at her and he leaned across the desk. The man raised an eyebrow, not pulling back. "I'm grandmother's granddaughter, and my brother's sister, and Adrian's friend," she continued, taking grim satisfaction in that he was finally listening. "It wasn't my parents that raised me. It was the books in your library, it was my curiosity trying to understand why my parents died. It was coming to Hogwarts and Slytherin. It was learning to trust Adrian and you. My parents didn't raise me. Even when they were alive they were too busy risking their lives, as you put it, to waste time with their children."

For a moment Severus looked like he was going to slap her, but instead he lowered his voice further. "You defend yourself with selfish, ignorant words―"

"So what? I'm supposed to be selfish. I'm still a child."

He sneered. "And you make it readily clear."

"Don't act so superior, Severus," said Rose. "You were a Death Eater yourself. I remember back when the old man brought you to the mansion and―"

"You remember that?"

His glare had lightened a bit to let his curiosity peek through. The interlude from his anger caught Rose off guard, and it took her a moment to shut her gaping mouth and collect herself. "Of course I do," she said coldly. "I've told you before: I remember everything. For better or worse."

"You were only―a toddler."

"I was four the first time you came—after Aunty Landa refused to kill her muggle friend," she snapped, "And five the year my parents got themselves killed."

Severus sighed, trying to return to the point at hand. "What hatred do you have for Miss Granger?"

"Ha, hatred? What about her is worth my hatred?" Rose demanded. "She's an arrogant girl without any natural talent who doesn't know when to shut up and admit she's wrong!"

The professor could have laughed, instead he straightened up, crossing his arms and fixing her with his smuggest glare. "Well, look who's talking."

Rose snorted, but sat back down. "Look," she growled, "at least I'm not trying to argue that my distaste for that brat is anything short of unprofessional. But why that should matter at all mystifies me―especially when addressing you, of all people. From what I hear from our first years, you make no secret of your antagonism of her, or Longbottom, or even Potter, for that matter."

Severus stiffened―there was no way to refute that argument. "But I," he contended lowly, "Would never call Miss Granger that, would I?"

Rose held her ground. "So says the former Death Eater."

For a long while Severus stared at her, sinking back into his swivel chair. Still Rose did not sit. She stared him down as he sat lost in thought, and she knew she was trying to push him towards a road of thought he didn't want to travel. "I'm beginning to think," he said after a long while, "that you may have spent too much time at Spinner's end."

Rose shrugged. "I will not deny that." He gave her a sharp look, but she kept her face cool. "The muggle children on your street, the books in your attic, the abrupt move to the new Hawthorne Mansion after living in your house for four years—perhaps I would have been better off staying with the mansion as it burned to the ground."

The lines on Severus' deepened as his jaw set. "Rose." Now his voice was soft. "What kind of thinking is that?"

Rose shrugged. "If you want the child you met at the old Hawthorne Mansion—and I'm sure she would have at least slowed Granger's fall—go back in time and give her back her parents. Maybe they could have taught her not to use bad language to state simple facts. Maybe they could have taught her to stay away from psychopaths. Maybe they could have—"

"Who are you calling a psychopath?"

Spinning around in her chair, Rose was relieved to find Adrian in one piece—although he had a scowl stamped into his features. "You, Adrian," she snapped. "What on earth has you looking so grouchy? You are still here, so I assume you've not been expelled."

Shrugging, Adrian practically flung himself into his seat, and Rose twisted back around so she could see both him and Severus. "No, he confirmed, "I was not expelled."

Rose waited for more, but Adrian was suddenly very fascinated by a jar of pickling cow eyes resting on the professor's desk. Severus cleared his throat and vanished the jar with a wave of his wand, asking, "Would it be better if I call in Professor Dumbledore to get the explanation from him?"

Adrian shrugged. "I'm sure the old flobberworm will be telling the staff sooner or later."

"Adrian!" Rose snapped. "Just tell us right now, or I'll…"

The blond boy turned his cool gaze to her. "You'll what, Rose?"

With a roll of her eyes, Rose sighed. "I'll mail Bill Weasley about…"

Severus broke in. "Are you two first year Gryffindors?" he demanded. "Adrian. Explain what happened."

"Dumbledore took my wand away," the boy grumbled out finally. "For use in class only, if the teacher deems it necessary."

"How are you going to be able to study?" asked Rose.

"Apparently I am far enough ahead that only class time should be enough for me, and any other homework or practice must be done in the presence of a staff member." Adrian looked pointedly at Severus.

"Then it will have to be a staff member with an abundance of time on their hands," the man said, calmly ignoring Adrian's implications. "Anything else?"

"Well, he lectured my on and on about things from his childhood—and don't ask me for any of them, I think he put something in the tea to make me forget—"

"You took tea together?" Rose nearly shrieked the question. "And here I was thinking you were being punished!"

"While tea with the headmaster can certainly be a torture," said Severus dryly, sitting back in his chair once more, "I find this punishment to be excessively light."

"Light?" said Arian, his voice biting with incredulity. "I don't have a wand, Severus, until the holidays at Christmas! And you know too well how bloody useless I am with wandless casting—I'll just have to bribe Flitwick or something—"

"You will not." Rose and Severus said in a commanding unison. They glanced at each other, faces twisting slightly to avoid showing any readable expressions, but the professor continued, "I, for one, am fully prepared to have you removed from my class if I hear of any such nonsense. Rose, I expect you to keep an eye on him—a proper eye—to make sure he doesn't try anything. And whether the headmaster specified it or not, Adrian, you will not be borrowing any other students' wands."

Adrian's scowl deepened. "Severus, this is completely ridi—"

"Think of it as my little addendum to your punishment," finished Severus with a brief but cruel little smile. "Rose, as I apparently had not made it clear to you in the past—you are entitled to use any methods possible to prevent him from any further idiocy. And yes, consider this as part of your responsibilities as a prefect."

"Speaking of which," said Rose, "are you still Head Boy, Adrian?"

The seventh year shrugged. "I could care less. I have no idea why the old pisspot forced that title on to me in the first place. It's not like I have time for it, even if I were interested…"

"You shouldn't call people pisspots, Adrian," scolded Rose, earning her another sharp look from Severus. "But I am interested as well. I don't think I've ever once seen you do anything remotely related to your Head Boy duties—and you always drug me to the prefect compartment on the train and wouldn't participate…"

"Addendum part two," said Severus. Now he was smirking without even trying to hide it. "You must make a reasonable contribution to the prefects' work. Of course, this is your last chance. Failure to succeed means I will be forced to promote Percy Weasley to Head Boy a bit early—and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Adrian glared at him. "No more addendums. This mess is bad enough as it is!"

Severus raised his eyebrows again, and the smirk did not disappear, making the man's expression most peculiar. "Then you should have known better than to break a girl's arm and ribs in front of all her fellow Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years."

"Speaking of which, Severus," broke in Rose. "Another curiosity—why on earth did the headmaster put Gryffindor and Slytherin together for something like flying? It seems utterly barbaric—a gladiator style battle waiting to happen."

The smirk faded somewhat. "Do you even know what a gladiator is?"

"Of course I do! Remember everything. Read everything I could get my hands on. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Severus sighed. "The Headmaster has been known to be a very… sentimental man. It is possible that somehow he believes that through flying, the deep rift between Slytherin and Gryffindor will become a bit shallower." His voice rose as he said that last bit, and Rose and Adrian found themselves stifling laughter at his poor impression of Dumbledore, not to mention the ridiculous idea expressed. Severus' smirk returned. "Of course, the headmaster has very little to do with the actual arrangement of scheduling, he merely approves them, so the likelihood that it was actually he who put together Slytherin and Gryffindor is, well… it may also be of note that Madame Hooch and Professor Dumbledore had a bit of a disagreement over this year's funding for flying and quiddich. And it was very much the Headmaster who insisted that flying lessons be started as early as possible."

Adrian suddenly stood up, forcing the sullen look back on to his face. "I don't know why I bothered to come down here," he grumbled. "I did not want to hear more about the old fogey."

Rose sighed and stood as well. She repeated the habitual action of dusting off her skirt. "Then we had best be off. I expect the kitchens have already been closed, but perhaps we can still drop by? Someone had to go dancing around in my supper…" The pair turned, starting to exit, when Severus stood.

"Rose," he said sternly. He did not use a quiet or angry voice, but the effect was still there. The girl turned back. "You have not just gotten away with this. I will decide your punishment soon enough."

Her shoulders sagged a bit, but she nodded. "Good evening, Professor."

Outside of the office, she and Adrian turned to walk towards the kitchens. "Punishment?" Adrian demanded. "What's he doing punishing you?"

"Well, the spells ricocheted, didn't they?" Rose said quickly. "So we don't really know which spell hit her. Besides, we aren't supposed to duel out on the school grounds like that—you know that, I know that, and Severus knows that I know that."

Adrian was quiet for a minute as they passed a group of third years—who gave the pair a wide berth; apparently the news about Hermione had already spread. "It was my spell," he said at last, the anger still in his voice, making it a bit higher than usual. "I was the one to cast levi corpus. And it wasn't so accidental. That Gryffindor brat was annoying as—who was she, anyways?"

"Hermione Granger," Rose grumbled.

"I know that; why do you think I hexed her? You were complaining about her before dinner." They had come to a large painting of a bowl of fruit, and Adrian reached up to tickle the pears while he spoke. It swung open, and the pair stepped through the hole revealed behind it. "I meant, what is her deal?'

"Miss Hawthorne, Master LaConner," a young house-elf greeted them squeakily. "What can Moppy bring for you?"

"I'd like some pumpkin soup," said Rose, stepping past the elf towards a low wooden table hidden in the shadows across the room. Elves scampered away from it, moving dishes and tossing a tablecloth over it so quickly there was no indication that it had been used for their dinner table just moments before. "And I'm sure Adrian would be happy with the same."

"Of course, Moppy would be happy to bring the Miss and Master some pumpkin soup! Just—Moppy will be quick!"

The witch and wizard sat at the hastily prepared table, ignoring completely the lingering droves of elves that had vacated it. "Granger," said Rose when they were settled, "Is this year's resident first-year would-be Percy Weasley, a know-it-all brat who believes in reading books as large as she can find in the library, regardless of content or whether her little brain can actually make sense of what is going on in them, and a muggle-born irritation to our own house's first years."

"So she adheres to the rules like Madam Marce's Sticking Powder to paper?" clarified Adrian. "That's what you mean by resident Percy Weasley, no? And why would that bother you?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Adrian, even I know the limits of the validity of rules," she said. "There is such thing as grey area and times when rules must be bent. She has yet to understand this—every time I pass her in the halls she is lecturing someone about this addendum to that rule and quoting word for word from one of the first-year textbooks exactly what one of the other students should have been doing in their last class—it irritates me, and I only run into her every now and then. You should hear the way the first years go on about her in the common room…"

"Sounds like she's the year's heartthrob."

Again, Rose rolled her eyes—she was not sure how much more sarcasm they could handle before they rolled right out of her head—but she then fixed Adrian with a suspicious glare. "Why do you want to know, anyways?" she asked. "You've been asking more and more about people this year—it's not normal for you."

"Well, if I'm going to do some of those Head Boy duties, I might as well know who to be seeking out to give detentions to…"

"Liar. I said 'this year', not 'this evening'."

Moppy returned with two bowls of steaming pumpkin soup, which she, bowing, set before them. Two other elves brought spoons and napkins, and still another two goblets of cider. Again they bowed before leaving, but the Slytherin pair paid them no mind.

"Curiosity, I suppose," Adrian amended. "Why do you know so much about everyone?"

"Because one of us has to do the job, unless we want Percy Weasley running the school, yes?"

"He's only a fifth year like you. Severus wouldn't really make him Head Boy this year."

"Yes, well, he would just have a hissy-fit over the fact that a fifth year was allowed a seventh year position. His ego would burst with pride or shame over the anomaly of a rule being bent like that… come to think of it, he and Granger would make a horrid pair, wouldn't they?"

"Like that'd ever happen. Weasley wouldn't want to have any rumors about him and a first year—I'll have to remember that, if he gets too annoying… Can't just wipe his memory of his last class anymore…"

"Indeed."

Rose and Adrian turned their attention to their soup, then, as it had stopped steaming and it really was getting late. Their conversation all but died, even on the walk back to the common room. They returned to their usual seats, where Rose's book bag had been abandoned before dinner, and they watched as the other Slytherins came in from enjoying their Friday evenings out of the dungeons. They were all chatting excitedly, but when passing Adrian they abruptly quieted and stepped a bit quicker.

"Adrian," Rose asked when most of the students had moved up to their dormitories or taken seats in the many leather sofas in the common room. "What have you been up to this year? Don't say studying—I know you haven't been. You mentioned it yourself—Potter' and Zabini's little group has taken over our old practice room."

Adrian ran his fingers on the ebony arm of his chair thoughtfully. "Oh, this and that, really," he said. "When you're a seventh year, you'll be this busy, too."

"Don't give me that, Adrian. It's a simple enough question."

"Really. I've been working on all sorts of things. NEWT classes really are a pain, Rose, and besides that I'm still working out what I will be doing next year…"

"Weren't you corresponding with your cousin?"

"My cousin's an ass. I've actually been writing Violet Parkinson, see if I might spend a bit of time in France..."

"You and Vi have never gotten along."

"Well, she knows some people—and it seems as though putting a channel between us for the past few years has somewhat mended our relationship."

"I'll be glad to be on this side of that channel next year, won't I? Putting the pair of you together... oh, but you had better be nice to her sister, if you really mean to go to France. She told me she's going to visit Vi over the holidays—"

"What reason could there possibly be to talk to Pansy Parkinson, Rose? Compared to Violet, she's so very dull…"

"And by that you mean she's not insane."

"Yes, well… she's fallen in with the Malfoy brat, hasn't she? Violet may be a bitch by herself, but she at least chooses good company—"

"By which you mean she manages to find people more insane then herself."

"—and yes, I really do intend to go to France."

Rose blinked, pulling her eyes away from the couple that looked suspiciously like they were about to break common room rules to stare at Adrian. "What could you possibly want to do in France?"

"Aside from enjoying the fruits of travel?" he asked, laughing. "Like I said, Violet chooses her company well. There may be some job opportunities—but really, Rose, nothing is certain yet."

Rose frowned. "When did this idea of yours get planted in that shrunken brain of yours? You've never mentioned France before. And I didn't know you were on speaking terms with Vi again—let alone invite yourself into her life in France terms."

"Who said I was inviting myself?"

"Didn't you?"

He shrugged and stood up abruptly. "In any case, I've better head off to sleep now, as I've got a floo meeting with my grandmother tomorrow morning to explain all this…" Rose pursed her lips, recognizing a bad excuse to escape the conversation, but said nothing. The Head Boy jerked his head across the room. "Does it count as doing my Head Boy duties if I point out work for my prefects? Everett and Mannis are really going at it…"

Rose's gaze snapped back to the couple that appeared to be eating each other's faces, and by the time she had spelled them apart, assigned separate detentions, and returned to her seat Adrian was gone. He was hiding something, and she knew it—how else would things have gotten so out of control earlier? Adrian had never been anything short of extremely careful in making sure there was no reasonable proof that he'd been associated with the victims of his aggressive nature—a thought that had always made Rose uncomfortable, especially when he started using her in his excuses—but the Granger incident had been in front of two houses of first years. They had little time to talk, with Rose officially taking on prefect duties and Adrian—doing whatever it was that he was up to…

She sighed. It was not her night to patrol—and maybe Adrian had the right idea about going to bed early.