A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize, again, for taking so long to post another chapter. I lost my way a little, and so did Rose. But we're back, and I'll try to post much sooner this time.

I found this chapter very emotionally challenging, and terribly difficult to write. I feel it reveals a lot about Rosalind's family, and (possibly) provides a glimpse into her childhood. Hopefully, you'll understand how she became who she is now, and how breaking Blaise's heart was the only choice she thought she had.

Thank you for the reviews, they really make my day.

Chapter 42: Boyfriend

My feet shuffled forward on their own, one laborious, slow step at a time. A couple of paces before I would reach the dark staircase that led out of this accursed place that I once held so dear, my legs faltered, losing strength, and I stumbled forward, my right hand instinctively reaching for the wall in order to steady myself. In doing so, I scraped the skin of my palm against the old, sharp stone, drawing blood. But I barely noticed the sting.

It mattered very little, for the pain in my chest drowned all else. It coursed through my back, into my heart, rendering every stabbing beat more painful, and from there blossomed as dull ache through my lungs, making it torturous to breathe.

In all my life, never had I imagined this kind of pain.

My fingers scraped the stone as I drew myself up, stepping forward once more.

I have to leave, I thought, the sentence running through my head again and again, I have to leave, I have to leave…

Or He would see me. I grimaced as my heart constricted in my chest, wishing to tear itself to pieces.

I reached the stairs, never having turned back once to see those doors, when a wild, desperate wish turned my head. I could turn around, I could run back, apologise, admit the truth. We could go tonight, leave Hogwarts, leave the country.

I'd live as a muggle, if I could live with him.

It was only a moment before I remembered that phrase. Blood traitor.

I turned back around, hefting my leg up the first stair. Grandfather's wrath would follow us anywhere we went. My leg fell through the missing step, and I fell forward, catching a torch on the wall before my face met the wooden surface. I stepped forward again, another unbidden thought rising in my brain. He'd kill us both. He would not rest, he would not die, before ending the vile, treacherous branch of his family. I knew him well, he'd kill even a baby, if it could clean our name.

Once, a long time ago, he already had.

The thought turned my stomach, and my hand reached up, covering my mouth as bile rose in my throat. Tears gathered at the very edges of my eyes, and I struggled to swallow, doing myself more harm than good. I took a deep breath through my nose and closed my eyes, trying to appease my stomach. I thought it safe to open my mouth and took two more large gulps of air, before continuing on my way.

I did not quite know where it was that I intended to go, walking out of fear, not any true will of my own. It was very hard to focus enough to think rationally, grief drowning all coherent thought. But as I neared my common room, I grew ever more certain that I did not wish to go there. I did not want to see anyone, I did not want to hear anyone. I just wanted to be alone.

My attention was caught by a flickering flame of a torch just ahead, settled in a small nook of the stone wall. It was a shallow nook, and the torch had been placed by far too low, thus proving to be a menace to any unfortunate passer-by, threatening to smash their head open. I had wished for just such a fate for Blaise just half an hour ago, enraged that he would betray me.

Perhaps that would have hurt him less.

My chest constricted again, every muscle aflame with pain. I drew in a surprised breath, hunching and folding into myself, waiting out the pain. Tears gathered at the very edges of my eyes, but they soon dried, the pain dulling to a persistent ache.

I knew it would hurt for a long time. I would die with this pain.

But let it hurt, I thought, if it can save his life, let it hurt even worse.

I'll bear it alone.

I passed by my common room, climbing out of the dungeons and into the Entrance Hall. All was quiet in the castle, the silence interrupted by the flickering of fire or the occasional rattle of a suit of armour adjusting its stance. It was late, I thought as I turned towards the heavy doors, Serpen would have a feast at this hour.

The thought had me stop in my steps.

Serpen.

I had left him behind, to guard the entrance to the common room. He would still be there, waiting. And so would the House.

Cold sweat washed over me at the realization, my tie suddenly choking in its hold. I reached up, meaning to undo it, only to find my neck exposed, naked. I wasn't wearing a tie.

I turned around, headed for the grand marble staircase that would lead me to the first floor. I had left the House in the middle of the night, departing with a boy who was known for his conquests, and had yet to return. Should neither of us return… I dared not imagine the rumours.

But I could not return with this appearance.

The lavatory on the first floor was dim as I entered it, only two torches set alight to illuminate the sinks. I approached the second sink slowly, not sparing a glance to the cubicles on my right. No one would be awake to occupy them at this hour.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirror with tired, murky eyes. There was no shine to them, no life. I tried to blink once, twice, but that did little to improve the impression. I forced my features to twist into a cold, guarded look and judged it to be an improvement. My face relaxed in the next moment, for I was too tired to maintain such an expression. And I would be needing my strength.

My gaze shifted left, to my hair, finding it slightly dishevelled. My heart clenched painfully in my chest and I squeezed my eyes shut, ceasing to breathe in an effort to escape the pain. After another moment, I opened my eyes, reaching up with a trembling hand, weaving the strands back into place. It wasn't my best appearance, but it would have to do.
I could surely manage a glare or two to settle the rest.

But as I glanced downward, I knew no glare would suffice. My trembling hand lowered to my neck, gingerly brushing against a circular bruise of a reddish-pink colour. His lips had somehow left a brand on my skin, a brand I had seen on many of my peers.

It would betray our actions momentarily.

My hair could not hide it well, and the collar of my shirt could not reach it. I raised my right hand to my neck, meaning to button up my collar, only to stop a second before making another mistake. I had nearly forgotten the scrape on my right palm, and the bloody skin caught my attention a second before it could dirty my shirt.

The scrape had been deeper than I expected, but had stopped bleeding at this point and the blood had already begun to dry. Nonetheless, it needed to be washed.

I opened the tap with my left hand, only then becoming aware that it had been dripping slowly all the while. Someone had not closed it properly, but I had not noticed the noise at all.

I placed my hand under the water, and gently scrubbed around the wound. Somewhere at the very recess of my mind, I knew that this should hurt.

As my hands dried, I once more reached for my collar. All that was left was a disillusionment spell. And then, I'd walk back into my golden prison like a good little pureblood heiress.

I aimed my wand at my neck, my mind going blank for a moment. For the life of me, I could not recall a single spell. I closed my eyes, trying to think and finding my mind empty. Then, as if by some small miracle, an incantation came to my lips.

"Dissimulo!" I spoke, to no effect at all.

I frowned at that, drawing a breath and attempting to concentrate.

"Dissimulo!" A feeble, light purple mist erupted from my wand and covered my neck. I glanced at my reflection again, seeing a tie fastened around my neck. The bruise appeared to be hidden, only for the flesh to turn a pale shade of pink. My tie flickered, betraying the illusion, making me realize that I needed to do better.

Much better.

I opened the tap once again, setting my wand aside for a moment and washing my face in icy water.

I'm not done yet, I thought, I had to protect him.

I am not dead yet.

I stood up straight, aiming my wand at my neck, speaking clearly, decisively: "Dissimulo!"

A mist of dark purple hue appeared from the tip of my wand, enveloping my neck and settling around my shoulders. This time, the illusion had no fault.

I took one last deep, shuddering breath, my gaze turning cold, guarded. I glanced at my reflection one last time, ascertaining that no detail had been missed. There could be no mistake.

I turned towards the doors, walking to face the consequences of my terrible crime. My pace was slow, exhaustion creeping into every step. I kept to the shadows, finding oppressive even the feeble, flickering light of the fire in the torches.

After what seemed like hours of walking, I came to a stop in front of the wall that hid the entrance to our common room, and raised my chin, my mask in place.

I allowed myself only the time of one heartbeat, before speaking clearly, calmly "Old and pure."

As the wall slid open in response to my words, the sound of low, hushed chatter drifted to my ears. A blazing kind of ice spread through my insides at the thought of a dozen pairs of eyes settling on my person, scrutinizing every detail, looking for any weakness they might be so fortunate to find.

I stepped forward with more confidence than I felt, crossing the small hallway in a calculated, practiced pace. I could make out a large, circular shape at its very end, Serpen lying coiled where I had left him, guarding the entrance. He raised his head as he sensed my approach, large, emerald eyes meeting my gaze.

Sad, his thoughts echoed in mine, and painful. This world is a very sad and painful place.

My stomach twisted into a knot, and Serpen lowered his head, as if it were too heavy. I came to a stop beside him, glancing once quickly around the wide room. Most of the younger students had retired for the night, but my older housemates still lingered around tables or couches, some still holding glasses.

No one dared openly stare, but I felt their glances, the House taking notice of my arrival. And the fact that I arrived alone.

"Come along Serpen" I spoke in a tone calm, collected, and once more slowly, deliberately glanced around the room. Most turned their heads as my gaze fell on their figure, reading well into my unspoken warning. I was a very dangerous topic of conversation, gossiping about me would be a mistake; gossiping about me in a way that could reach my ears, even more so.

I was not known for my forgiving nature.

As I walked, my eyes fell on Daphne, sitting opposite my couch, her hands folded in her lap. She had been turned towards the entrance, waiting for our return. As our eyes met, she made to rise, but I turned my head from her, denying her a chance to speak.

I lost her too.

I clenched my jaw as tightly as I dared, trying to bear another painful constriction.

For the barest of moments, I wished to turn on my heel and summon her to my side. To talk, to explain. To justify my actions.

But I could not. She held Blaise too dear.

This was treason. I knew well what we do to traitors.

But her younger sister… If she thought me as vile, as twisted as to commit such horrible treachery… I could not live with that. I could not live with her hatred.

As my eyes settled on the figure of a blond, pale boy, I came to a decision. Only two people in the world would know the truth.

I adjusted my step momentarily, approaching Draco where he sat, a glass of what appeared to be water settled in his hands. Goyle sat on his right, holding a Butterbeer in his large, oaf-like palm. Both boys raised their heads as I approached them, and Draco offered me a small smile in greeting.

"Good evening Draco" I spoke, choosing to use his first name but not trusting myself enough to attempt a smile. I glanced at Goyle on his side and added as an afterthought "Goyle."

"Evening" replied Draco, a bit too relaxed. I noticed he was intoxicated, and found myself hesitant to speak. Would he be able to discern the gravity of my request?

"Where is Blaise?" asked Draco, glancing past me, towards the exit. I hesitated for a moment, ceasing to breathe once more in an effort to lessen the pain, and chose to act as if he had not asked a question at all.

"I was wondering if I might have a word with you" I spoke, glancing openly at his glass "but if you are feeling indisposed…"

I left my sentence to trail off, knowing he should be able to grasp my meaning well enough. If he did not, there was no need to speak at all.

He smiled in response, raising the glass lightly.

"Water," spoke he, "no more whiskey for me. "

He stood up, and indicated with his free hand towards an empty table. I nodded lightly, walking first, Draco half a step behind me.

"Is something the matter?" asked he as we reached the table, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit in observation.

"I need to talk to you" I said, and he furrowed his eyebrows "privately."

This seemed to sober him somewhat, his face losing colour.

"About?" he asked, a defensive edge to his question. He stood a little taller, his shoulders tensing in suspicion.

No, no, no, I thought frantically, realizing my mistake a second too late. All those lessons, all those gruelling hours, all of Grandfather's rules and teachings, vanished from my mind, leaving me in momentary terror.

I could see him slipping from my grasp with each second more as he awaited my response, but I did not know what to say. Should I tell him it was about Blaise? Would he not speak to him? Would he not seek out his best friend? Surely he knows, surely he can guess what Blaise feels for me?

But if I do not... Draco might not come at all. Or not come alone.

"About Blaise" I said, blurting out the truth, faintly aware that I was losing control of my faculties.

"About Blaise" echoed Draco, his eyebrows shooting up in blatant surprise. It was only then, when he mirrored my words, that I understood my mistake. It should have been Zabini, I should have said Zabini.

But it was too late now.

"Yes" I spoke, recovering what sense I still had left. "about Zabini. It is most urgent, and most private."

I raised my chin lightly, my Grandfather's words coming back to the forefront of my mind. Always proud. Always regal. Even in mistakes.

He seemed to be considering me for a moment, before nodding once in acceptance and I let out a small, imperceptible breath of relief.

I can do this. I have to do this.

"Shall we say later today, after breakfast?" I offered, though the few hours I'd wait already seemed an eternity. But I had enough sense not to insist on talking immediately.

His eyes moved from my face up, over my head, presumably reading the time off the old clock on the other end of the room.

"Isn't that a little early?" asked he.

"It really is most urgent" I replied, doing my best not to flee from the curious glances of our housemates. I could not bear them tonight.

But a Queen does not flee, and I remained where I was, waiting for Draco's agreement.

"Alright, after breakfast then. Will I see you there, or-"

"Meet me at the Boathouse" I replied, cutting him off mid-sentence. My patience was wearing thin, it was best I left lest I had another blunder to account for tonight.

"And Draco" I said, fixing him with the best serious look I could manage "I am relying on your discretion."

I turned to Serpen, who had been resting by my feet, coiled tightly around himself.

"Come Serpen, we shall retire for the night."

I walked past Draco, using what little strength I had to maintain my cold, collected demeanour. The few steps seemed the longest I had ever walked, and I climbed the first step with much relief. Just a minute more.

My dormitory was mostly empty upon my return, only Rebecca had her curtains drawn. I climbed upon my bed, still clad in my uniform, and drew the curtains, allowing my mask to crumble at last. There was a choking sensation in my throat, as if steel fingers pressed against it, squeezing the life from my lungs. I drew my knees up in an attempt to relieve the pain in my chest, curling up into myself, and willed the tears to come. But they did not, leaving only the dry, shuddering sobs to wreck through my body.

And there I lay until the morning, in my soft, silver cage, with only Serpen to share my grief.

I did not sleep that night, lying curled up on my side, my eyes squeezed firmly shut. The pain in my chest never eased, never ebbed, tearing through my chest, through flesh and bone. Memories swarmed my mind, blurry and unfocused, painful reminders of what had been, and what was yet to come.

I rose before dawn, donning my coat and heading towards the doors, only then remembering that it would be appropriate to change into a fresh, clean uniform.

Yes, it would be appropriate, I thought. A Kersey was always appropriate.

The portraits were still snoring soundly as I made my way through the castle, Serpen following quietly in my steps. I walked quickly, a terrifying disquiet settling in my very bones. Everything here was positively ancient, and ancient felt so damn suffocating.

All ancient ever did was take and take, never giving anything in return.

The sky was still dark as I struggled through the heavy oak doors, which somehow felt heavier than ever before, and seemed only slightly lighter towards the east. The grass was wet with dew beneath my feet, squeaking faintly beneath the soles of my shoes.

I crossed my hands across my chest, hugging myself tightly, in a poor attempt to physically hold all the broken pieces in their designated places. My eyes flickered towards the Quidditch pitch, and I briefly contemplated attempting to run my pain away. The thought was quickly dismissed as I remembered the game of Quidditch played mere hours ago, bringing forth another flaming burst of pain, burning what air there was in my lungs.
I could just make out the glass roof of the Herbology greenhouses, but that idea too was quickly done away with.

Instead, I walked on and on, descending the path towards Hogsmeade, stopping only once I reached the metal gates that marked the end of school grounds, and reached out, placing my palm gently against the cold metal.

I had never come so close to those forbidden gates as I had last night, moving so close I could touch them, feel them, even taste the freedom they promised. But I did not open them, I did not push my way through their tight hold. And I never would.

I stood there as the sky changed all shades of blue and the first rays of light pushed their way over the mountains to the east. Serpen lay coiled at my feet, the both of us simply staring out, into the world.

The pain was still there, still ferocious in its ministrations over my chest, but the coldness of the metal felt soothing, calming, yet it could not hold me long.

I climbed my way up the path and walked across the grassy slope, descending through the narrow, stone pathway into the cavernous room. I had not been to the boathouse in years, not since I first arrived in Hogwarts, and now I found that precious little had changed. The boats were not in the water, instead stacked neatly on the walls, and the portrait of Percival Pratt had been removed, the shortcut to the Great Hall disappearing with it.

But all else was much the same as it had been nearly six years ago. I could still recall how happy, how excited I had been to climb out of the boat, how impatient I had been to make my way to the Great Hall and the sorting ceremony.

I had known I'd be a Slytherin. And that might sister would not be one.

I had thought I knew so much, understood so much, held myself so high, because I was better than all the rest. I had received so much training, accomplished so much. I was confident no one and nothing could fool me. I could see through them all.

A small, bitter smile pulled on the very corner of my lips, my vision blurring as my eyes positively burned in my skull. I reached out a hand, placing it against the old, weathered wood, using its texture to cling to reality as pain threatened to cloud my mind.

So many lies… I had believed so many lies.

Salazar had been right. Not just about war, about taking a life. But about being an heiress, a Kersey heiress.

I did not understand.

I had played this game, this terrible, terrible game for so long. And I did not grasp its rules.

"You are free to make the choice for yourself child" he had said, his silver eyes focused on me, "I have faith in your judgement."

I remember my chest swelling with pride. He acknowledged me, I had thought, he trusted my choice.

Well, I suppose I had got that part right. But there was no freedom in that statement. I had assumed, however idiotically, that my status would grant me even the power to marry a halfblood, should he be of an appropriate disposition.

Fool.

I was free, certainly, but I was free to make the right choice. Or it would be made for me.

Blaise would never be considered the right choice. Grandfather had not shown it outwardly, but I could see his anger at the mere prospect of me receiving help from the man. Any attempt at a relationship would end in blood.

Grandfather was the one to raise me, I had been observing him, learning from him for the best part of my life. I knew him well. I had learnt the Arts from him, I had learnt torture from him. He was a patient man, he'd take hours with whomever dared displease him. There was one filth, a horrible muggle man, who screamed so loudly, for so long. It must have been hours, but when it was done, there was so little of the man left, that he barely clung to life. He had been left to die on his own, rather than end his suffering. I had thought he'd live only hours, but in the end, it was four days before he drew his last breath.

That was the first time I saw Grandfather's normally cold, collected face twisted with rage.

And with Blaise… I clenched my teeth tightly, fighting against the paralyzing pain that robbed even the will to breathe from me. It would not be hours… it would be days. Weeks. For a man of his stature to dare try and touch one hair on the heiress of the ancient and noble Kersey house, the insult Grandfather would perceive in such an act…

I would not escape his wrath either, that much I was certain of. Perhaps he'd even take my life, perhaps not. At that point, it would not matter either way.

I could not allow that. I would not.

Besides, though the greatest, Grandfather would not be the only peril. A house as old, as powerful as mine has not had a woman as heir for centuries. Whoever it was that married me gained much more than wealth. I was an opportunity like no other.

Terrible deeds had been done for much less.

Serpen hissed loudly and I glanced at my fingers, realizing I had dug my nails into the wood of the boat, clawing at it absently until I drew blood. I raised them from the wood, picking out splinter and bits of wood from my skin.

I would not be loved, that much I knew, barely aware that this too, should hurt. I wondered for a moment whether Grandfather ever loved me, or just the idea of me as his perfect, obedient granddaughter that could be moulded into a perfect Kersey. Once more, a bitter smile pulled on my lips. I had known the answer for years.

I turned towards the water, lowering myself to my knees slowly, carefully, washing the blood from my fingers. I did not bother healing them, turning towards the lake as I waited for Draco to arrive. I did not know the time, but hoped he would not take long. The walls had already begun to suffocate me.

The rational part of my mind, or what little was left of it, knew that it could not have been more than a few minutes before I heard crunching of gravel as Draco descended from the castle. But by Merlin, it felt like centuries.

I struggled with my nerves, pacing the length of the small dock once, twice, three times, before walking became more unnerving than standing still.

Merlin, I thought, what if he did not come? And then, another unwelcome thought: what if he did?

What in the name of Merlin was I going to say? How was I going to convince Draco to betray his best friend?

What will I do if he says no? I cannot leave this room without him.

I returned to stand by the boats, near the middle of the room, upon hearing his approach. I had been wringing my hands but now forced them to unclench by my sides, doing my best to feign calmness.

I took in one last shuddering breath and raised my chin, noticing only from the corner of my eyes that Serpen slithered to my feet. He had been by the boats, allowing me to pace, but now approached me, offering his support.

Anything, I'd say, I'd do anything to convince him.

Draco climbed into the room carefully, glancing once about the room to ascertain that we were indeed alone, before his angry, guarded eyes settled on my figure.

My own gaze shifted from his face down, past his chin, and settled on his neck. The pale skin was marred by an angry red mark where a hand caught him, possibly applying enough pressure to hurt his windpipe. From its shape, its size, I knew it to be a male hand, but I needn't ask whom it belonged to.

Blaise got to him first.

My feet moved on a will of their own, but Draco stepped back at my approach, his eyes flashing with anger.

I stopped in my steps, and drew myself up to full height, averting my eyes. I turned on my heel, feeling it best to put some distance between us.

"How much do you know?" I asked, finding that I had managed rather well to keep emotion from my voice.

But it would seem that Draco would make no such attempts.

"Wrong question Rosalind." replied he, his tone just above a snarl, "Or rather, that's my question. How much do you know?"

He sounded somewhat hoarse, leading me to summarize that Blaise must have done some damage. I clenched my teeth against another explosion of pain in my chest. He must be furious.

And in so much pain.

I turned to face Draco, feeling all will to fight leave my spirit.

"A lot" I heard myself say " too much."

My eyes shot up quickly to meet his, "More than you do."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, only serving to further enrage Draco.

"Do you now? So you know that he's in love with you then?"

My gaze fell to the floor, and I grit my teeth, struggling to contain a grimace of pain.

"He doesn't fancy you, he doesn't have a crush. He's bloody in love, for the first time in his life, do you understand that? Can you understand that? He bloody loves you!"

His cheeks had reddened with obvious anger, and he made a step forward, towards me.

I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me at the words, swallowing hard against the bile that threatened to rise in my throat.

"I- " I started to say in a soft voice, but faltered, nearly stumbling over the words. I swallowed once more, this time speaking a little louder "I am aware."

He seemed to be slightly surprised by this response, possibly having expected for me to deny or argue the fact. He opened his mouth once, but promptly closed it, raising his chin.

"And you?" asked he carefully, his eyes narrowed in observation "What about you?"

I did not know what to say, arching my back a little in an attempt to lessen the pain. Serpen hissed once, a faint warning of a kind, but I could not focus enough to make sense of it.

"That is not important." I heard myself say, "It does not matter what I think or feel."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" snapped Draco, once more losing his temper, "Of course it bloody well matters-"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes softening just a little.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "You look as though you're going to be ill."

I forced my eyes up, to meet his gaze for a moment, trying to appear stronger than I felt.

"I am quite alright, I assure you" I spoke, sensing a choking note to my words. I raised my right hand, meaning to brush aside a stray lock of hair.

"What is that?" asked Draco suspiciously, and my right hand snapped to my neck, covering the bruise. The illusion couldn't have, shouldn't have worn off so soon.

"On your palm, what is that?" continued Draco, and I felt a moment of relief. His mark was still hidden.

"A scrape" I said, raising my palm a little so that I could inspect the red abrasion "I lost my footing for a moment."

He said nothing for a moment, regarding me carefully, before inquiring "On your own?"

My eyes snapped up to meet his in surprise. Was he asking me whether Blaise had somehow been the cause of this injury? While violence towards women was behaviour not entirely uncharacteristic of pure-blooded men, the very thought of Blaise raising his hand against me felt wrong, sickening. Impossible.

Serpen seemed to have read the same question in the three short words, and rose from his place beneath my feet, his head swaying from side to side as he hissed threateningly.

Draco's eyes flickered towards Serpen, and he made one cautious step back, perhaps fearing an attack.

"Yes" I said, trying to sound firm, to stress the truth behind my words "my foot caught against a stone as I was leaving."

Talking about last night did me no favours, summoning unbidden memories that coursed like fire through my chest.

I nearly choked on my next words, but forced them out of my throat none the less. He was innocent, in this whole blasted treachery, he did nothing wrong.

The fault was mine.

"Blaise had nothing to do with it."

Relief filtered through Draco's features momentarily, his eyes losing some of their previous anger.

"Thank Merlin" he whispered, more to himself than me, "I never thought he'd raise his hand against a woman, but I thought he might have..., no, no" he shook his head a little, as if to clear it "I should have known better."
He stopped for a moment, as if deciding how much to say.

"He just looked so crazed this morning, came at my throat as soon as he saw me. I didn't know how long he'd been like that."

I said nothing, my eyes settling on my hands, tracing my palms. They pushed him over the edge.

"Rosalind…" Draco called in a soft voice, calling my attention to himself. He stared at me intently, as if attempting to read the truth from my face "what happened last night? Why does my best friend think I'd steal the woman he loves?"

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to return his gaze. I had no right to grief, no right to remorse.

"Because I allowed him to believe that."

A flash of anger, and his features settled back into a cold, guarded mask.

"Excuse me?"

Had I been more human, the sheer weight of shame would have settled on my neck, lowering my head. But as it was, I swallowed, raised my chin, and repeated myself.

"I allowed him to believe I was in love with you, and that every minute I had ever spent with him had been so that I could get closer to you."

I read mild shock, followed by some disgust, before he managed to school his features back into a guarded mask.

"And…" asked he in a tone carefully devoid of emotion "is there truth in that?"

I met his eyes, careful to portray the sincerity of my words. He could not, must not be allowed to misunderstand me.

"No." I spoke clearly, "None at all. I hold no such sentiment towards you. But Blaise had to, has to, believe my words. "

I took one long, calming breath, closing my eyes in order to stop myself from reading the rage bubbling behind his silver eyes.

"It is for the best."

"For the best?" snapped Draco, his voice rising with every word. "For the best? My best friend believes that I'm fuck-" he cut himself off mid-word as Serpen hissed in warning against such crude language "that I'm sleeping with the woman he loves. And you say that's for the fucking best? Are you fucking mad?"

He did not seem to want an answer, his cheeks changing various shades of pink, mirroring his rage.

"He tried to throttle me Rosalind! Crabbe had to yank him off of me before he fucking murdered me in the middle of the hallway!"

"I am sorry" I said, a sinking feeling settling at the pit of my stomach "I truly am. More than you can imagine. But…"

"But what?" interrupted he, "But WHAT? What did he ever do to you that makes you hate him that much? Why in the name of Merlin's left ear would you want to torture him like that?"

I was silent for a moment as his chest rose and fell rapidly, my left hand fiddling with the hem of my skirt. Merlin… Hate? Did he think I was doing all of this because of hate?

"I don't." I spoke softly, my lips barely moving at all. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if he could hear me. "I don't hate him."

The words were out before I could stop them, before I could think them through.

"I love him. More than you could…. more than anyone will ever know."
A moment of confusion, than anger. And lastly, disgust.

"I thought you were sadistic" spat he at me, "but I know better now. You're not sadistic, you're bloody insane!"

I watched with growing terror as he turned on his heel, making to climb back up towards the castle, all my hopes, all my fears leaving with him. Serpen was hissing in anger somewhere to my left, but I could not hear him for the ringing in my ears.

"I'm not insane, " the words broke from my lips in a yell, "I'm dying!"

He froze in his steps, and I repeated the words in a tone that was just above a whisper.

"I am dying."

He turned slowly, shock etched deeply in every line of his face, those silver eyes growing impossibly wide.

"Or rather, I am going to die." I reached my hand to Serpen, settling it over the scales in a show of comfort, "The wording matters very little at this point. The result will be the same."

He opened his mouth once, but found no words, and pressed his lips shut again.

"The Dark Lord has risen again." I spoke, observing him carefully, watching as blood drained from his face at the mention of that name "Did you think I would not know? That I would not believe Potter?"

He did not say one word, anger leaving his features, morphing into apprehension and fear.

"I've known for months. From the first day."

I stopped, drew one more shuddering breath, and finally voiced my intention.

"And I will kill him."

Draco swallowed visibly, his entire body tensing at those five words. His eyes darted over the room, to me, than quickly away, as if he feared someone might have overheard me.

"Does that frighten you?" I asked, tilting my head a little in scrutiny. I had said too much to be able to afford to stop.

"Worry not, I did not abandon our beliefs. We are old, ancient" the word sounded sharp, foreign against my tongue, cutting my lips as it passed them "mighty. We deserve to be respected above all others in the magical world. But the Dark Lord will not give us that. He does not want to give us that. He has stopped fighting for our rights a long, long time ago."

I was right, and he knew it. I could read it in his eyes, the doubt, uncertainty. He dared not believe me.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle has been fighting to gain power, to satiate his greed. His madness caused so much tragedy, so much loss. He took the lives of my parents. And now, his madness looms above us once again, threatening to drown us all. But I will not allow it. He will not touch our family again."

I turned from him, walking back to face to the water. I grew tired of words, yet so much was left to be said.

"I will end him, before he can end us all."

He was silent for long while, but the silence could not worry me. Blaise had done his part well. Draco had already chosen a side, no matter if he knew it or not.

"You can't do it." said he at last, his voice no more than a frightened whisper. "You do not know him. He is so powerful… He can't die."

"Do you truly believe that?" I wondered out loud, "Or is that simply what he'd prefer for you to believe? Any man that breathes, lives. And all who live, can be killed."
I turned around once more, feeling grief claw at my heart. Was this truly how I'd spend my last days? Torn apart by guilt?

"How?" breathed Draco, searching my face as if he could read the answer in the arch of my nose.

A voice in the back of my mind warned me against disclosing too much. He was just a boy. Would this not bring him even more peril than already plagued his sad existence?

But he would not believe me unless I told him something.

Just a sliver of truth then.

"Have you been instructed in the Arts Draco?" I asked, though I could already guess the answer. Lucius would never be so negligent. He nodded once, curtly, as if he was not quite certain how much to disclose.

"I will employ the darkest magic known to our kind."

He seemed confused for the briefest moment, before his eyes widened in surprise.

"Blood magic?" the words that left his lips were barely more than an awed whisper.

"Yes." I replied with a small nod. "As you might have gathered" I raised my hand a little, turning it over so that I could see the inside of my wrist. "The Dark Lord shares a certain amount of blood with me."

My eyes followed the blue veins, tracing their path through the pale skin. "And blood… blood can always kill blood."

"But…" started Draco, but seemed to lose the words. He took a moment, before he tried again. "He must be a very distant cousin. The magic that such a curse would require… "

His mask broke, admiration replacing whatever negative sentiment had plagued him mere minutes before.

"Indeed. It will be a very powerful curse, one of my own design." It felt strange explaining my intentions, I'd never really shared them with anyone in so much detail. It was almost… liberating. "And for his life, I shall trade mine. Blood for blood. I am the only one to share his blood capable of casting such a spell. And I will."

He seemed to be regarding me for a moment more, before his features fell.

"You will die… so that we can be free. That's what you've been doing, isn't it? That talk with me, what you did to Blaise? You're preparing?"

I nodded once, unable to voice my agreement. Words gathered in my throat, lumping together, making speech impossible. A cramping sensation settled in my back, just opposite my heart, making it more and more difficult to maintain a proper posture.

Draco was observing me, for a moment lost for words. I let my eyes wander right, towards the boats, staring past wood and stone.

Please, please, I thought, let him agree. Let there be courage, let there be strength in that young heart. Just… please.

I can't do this alone.

"Is there…" he started, but faltered a little as my eyes slowly travelled back to his "is there no other way?"

I took in a deep, painful breath, struggling to speak around the guilt that closed around my throat.

"No" I spoke, my tone strained "not for certain. You are right, he is impossibly powerful. I cannot be sure anything else would suffice to break through his magic. And I cannot risk failing. We would never get a second chance."

My gaze settled on the scales of my familiar, black scales all but hiding him from sight. I winced against my will as my heart clenched in my chest.

I'd give not only my life, but his as well.

"I have to do it" I spoke more to myself than to Draco, "I have to protect my family."

He swallowed hard as my gaze met his, before giving me one curt nod.

Something small, much akin to hope, fluttered through my mind.

"When?" managed he, sounding quite shaken. It was that expression, that innocent, child-like emotion, that forced some strength into my limbs. For all his bravado, Draco had never witnessed death. Never taken a life.

I have to do this. For him, for all the children like him.

Because I wish someone could have done it for Arielle.

Maybe even for me.

"A couple of months" I replied, for the first time wishing it could be less. So much less.

Selfishly, I wished it could be tomorrow. Perhaps even now. I didn't want to live with this pain.

But that was impossible. I was not strong enough yet, and the curse was not yet complete. Besides, there were still matters that only I could attend to. I would not, I refused to leave them without a legacy. A parting gift.

I loved them too much, even if I would make it damn near impossible to be loved in return.

"Rosalind…" started Draco cautiously, and I glanced up at him, somewhat surprised at the change of approach. "I do not mean to be impertinent, nor suggest I know better. But Blaise…"

I almost smiled at the word. I'd have never imagined a single name could be so painful.

"He is my best friend. One of very few true friends I have in life." I could feel my heart sinking at the words, that small bit of hope disappearing without a trace "I like to believe I know him. If he knew…"

"He cannot" the words burst from my tongue, for I had neither the strength nor will to control them. But how do I continue, how do I explain my treachery? "He cannot."

Panic burned through me at the mere suggestion, but all I could do is repeat my plea.

Draco's eyes softened, but he did not understand.

"He would want to… he would not let you walk this path alone."

"No." I snapped, quite a bit more harshly than intended, panic coursing like poison through my blood. "He must never know."

I realized my mistake the second I uttered the words, watching as Draco tensed, once again attempting to hide his sentiments behind a practiced mask.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, scrambling desperately to find the right words.

"In little over three months, I will turn seventeen." I said, my left hand once more turning to fiddle with the hem of my skirt. "I will officially become an adult, an heiress, and will be considered eligible for marriage."

Draco caught up quickly, something akin to understanding flashing over his features.

"The letters… It's a matter of days. Maybe hours. I'm not sure. But I know it will be soon." Grandfather had already written to me in that regard, advising me to consider each offer carefully, though I doubt he'd expect me to open all letters.

"My… suitors" the word felt foreign against my tongue, for I would have never used it to describe them. Hyenas, leeches, that's what they were. Damned parasites. "will do all in their power to impress me, seduce me, coerce me… call it what you will. Should I show favour to anyone… he'd be in so much danger."

I was not worth it. He could not be hurt because of me.

"But they wouldn't dare touch him." argued Draco, his brow furrowing. "You would be furious, and not one of them would be stupid enough to enrage a Kersey."

I let out a small, dejected breath.

"Blaise is a Zabini, not a Burke, not a Nott. A Zabini. He's not one of the sacred twenty nine. And his mother… "I struggled to form sentences, my thoughts fleeing just before I could grasp them. We were talking for so, so long. "He would never be allowed to come under the folds of the Kersey name."

I could not protect him.

Draco seemed to understand that, possibly deducing that he'd be in a similar situation had our roles been reversed.

But in a matter of moments, his countenance changed, anger once more flashing from his eyes.

"Hold on" said he, his voice very nearly morphing into a snarl "you're trying to protect him from those fucking predators by tossing me into the pit, aren't you?"

"No" I rushed to clarify, making a step towards him, desperate to keep him in place. Thankfully, he did not move, and I made one more cautious step towards him. "you're different, you'd be safe. Listen to me, please. You're a Malfoy, one of the Sacred, that alone could deter most of them from even thinking of harming you. And I could, I will, extend the Kersey name to your family. You'd be safe, I swear it."

He seemed to be considering me, and I blurted out the rest without much consideration.

"Please Draco, I have no one else to ask."

This seemed to surprise him somewhat, just enough for him to set aside all fear, all anger.

"No one? Couldn't you talk to your grandfather about this? He seems to be a reasonable man, surely he'd- Rosalind!"

I felt cold sweat wash over me at his words, my vision blurring. I must have swayed in my steps, for Draco crossed the space between us in three quick strides, grabbing a hold of my arm, just below my right shoulder.

"Are you alright? Come here for a moment, here, sit down." he led me to a small stone bench tucked away near the end of the dock, and sat me down, staring down at me in worry.

"Shall I go get someone? You a little green-"

I raised a hand to stop him, struggling to find my voice. I tried not to think of his suggestion, of the wrath we were sure to incur.

"I'm alright" I said, clearing my throat lightly, and repeated my claim, speaking to appease both Draco and my familiar. Serpen had followed us quickly, climbing the bench and slithering to my lap. He agreed with Draco, thinking it best for me to see a healer.

But what good would that do anyone? My time was much better spent here.

"Just a dizzy spell. Nothing to worry about." my voice was weak, and I knew it did little to convince either of them.

"Please Draco, sit" I spoke, raising my hand slowly and indicating towards a space to my right. Serpen was quick to move, slithering to rest beside the bench, allowing Draco to take his place.

"You don't know my grandfather." I spoke in answer to his question. "He'd lead the hunt."

I could see his head turn from the corner of my eyes, but found it best to stare straight ahead, lest I be dizzy again.

"He'd torture Blaise for days… weeks maybe. Until his body and mind both broke down too much for there to be any satisfaction in the ordeal. And then…" I swallowed hard, finding the sound of soft waves lapping against the stone nauseating "he'd leave him to die."

Draco said nothing for a moment, and when he spoke, his whisper was so soft I could barely make it out.

"Would he kill you too?"

Would he? I didn't really know.

"Perhaps." I conceded, "if his wrath were too strong to be controlled. Perhaps not. Disinherit me, that much is certain. Possibly ship me off to France to be married."

Even disgraced, I could serve as a breeding mare.

"Is there no one who would stand by you? Your grandmother, your sister?"

He almost sounded aghast, but he too had heard the stories. I would not be the first to suffer such a fate. Surely not the last either.

"Melody never had that kind of a power. Had our roles been reversed, I might have been able to aid her. But she has no sway. And Grandmother…"

How in the world do I explain my relationship with that woman?

"My Grandmother has always know what was best for her. If it were Melody… maybe she'd risk disagreeing with Grandfather. But for me… Grandmother would never…" I faltered a little, not knowing how to finish my thought. "I would never expect…"

I sighed, biting my lip in an effort to clear my mind.

"If she had to choose between me and Grandfather…. she'd never choose me."

We were silent for a few moments, and I noticed my hands growing clammy in my lap.

Please, just please.

Help me.

"No one else?"

He asked a question, but his tone suggested no answer was needed.

"No one whom I'd dare involve. No one who could sway my Grandfather's opinion… The only two people who could, would help me have been dead for fourteen years."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, quite possibly remembering it had been his aunt who stole those people from me. But that was not his sin to carry, and I would never hold it against him.

"You are alone."

That too, was not a question.

We sat there in silence, and I feverishly searched for words, for something, anything I could say that could convince him. Yet I didn't dare speak for fear of saying the wrong thing.

I was so close, Merlin, so damn close.

There was a time, I remembered, when I was damn good at this. But now… it was all I could do to simply form a coherent sentence. This pain, this accursed, never ending pain crept into my mind and cloaked every thought. I could not think.

"I understand what I'm asking of you" I tried in a soft voice, my left hand fisting the fabric of my shirt in an effort to rid me of my nerves "don't think that I do not. If there was a way, any way at all, for me to… for me to leave without abandoning you in this mess… I'd do it. Whatever it was. But there's not. You're my last hope. But don't think that…"

I took one more shuddering breath, realizing that I was rambling.

"I understand what I'm asking. Because I'll lose Daphne."

I lowered my shoulders, shrinking into myself in an effort to lessen the spasm that ripped through my chest.

I'd die, knowing that she hates me. But not Tori, Merlin, not her. I'll fight for her, I'll explain to her. I can't lose them both.

"Should I agree to pretend to be your boyfriend… what would I need to do?" asked Draco, and I turned to him, meeting his eyes.

I opened my mouth, but closed them promptly, suddenly realizing that I did not know the answer. I'd never really thought that far, terrified he'd say no.

I cleared my throat, struggling to gather my wits.

"You'd have to convince Blaise, and whomever else might doubt us, that we are dating, and that we chose to do so out of love, not politics."

His brow furrowed a little in concentration, and he gave me an absent nod.

"How far do you want me to go then?" asked he, but realized in a moment that I might take offence. "Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, sweet words and loving gestures are necessary, but so is a little physical contact. Blaise is damn good at this – seduction and attraction and what not – it won't be easy to convince him."

Had I been less tired, I would have managed a small smile at his efforts. He was sweet, trying hard not to hurt my sensibilities, but euphemisms were not necessary.

Blaise was a player, and a damn good one at that. We had to be really careful, for he'd read through even the slightest error.

"I'm not particularly comfortable with physical contact, and he is well aware of that fact. But I'll consent to whatever you have to do to make it convincing."

He nodded once more, before drawing in one deep breath.

"He is my best friend. My family." my heart seemed to still in my chest as I listened, hoping against hope "As I said, he would not want you to walk this path alone. And you won't. I'll walk with you, as far as I can, as long as I can. I accept."

I let out a breath of relief, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my heart kicked into life again. Merlin… he said yes.

Relief coursed through my system, lifting unbelievable weight off my shoulders. It did nothing to stop the pain that ripped through my body, but gave me enough strength to continue my struggle. I could do this.

I would do this.

A small, nagging voice in the back of my mind fought to make its presence known, warning me against rashness. A promise was not enough. He'd have to vow.

I rose to my feet with some difficulty, struggling back into a proper posture. Draco mimicked me, standing opposite me with some apprehension, as if he expected for me to stumble any moment.

"I can never express my gratitude Draco, no words would ever suffice." I said, and just as he opened his mouth to reply, I voiced my thoughts, watching as all colour drained from his cheeks "But acceptance will not be enough. Too many lives are at stake. There is simply too much to lose. I will require a vow."

Merlin, was I pushing him too far? Would these few sentences destroy what ground I had managed to claim?

"Will I… will my family be safe from Him?" asked he, for the first time looking a bit green himself, "He can read minds, he'll know."

The last sentence was uttered in a frightened whisper, his eyes growing wide, as if he only now remembered the Dark Lord being a skilled Legilimens.

My first instinct was to promise him safety, vow to use my skills in Occlumency to shield his mind and his secrets from the Drak Lord, but the words died on my tongue. There was someone else, someone much, much more skilful.

Though something in me trashed violently at the thought of Arielle being in any way privy to what was said here, I knew I'd ask for her help. Draco's safety and the lives of his family were much more important than whatever reservation I may have towards employing Arielle's skills.

"He will not. He is not all powerful, even if he tries so desperately to convince the world otherwise. I will ask Arielle Hayes to place a shield around your mind with Occlumency, hiding this conversation from all those who would invade your mind. I will train you in that skill myself, if that is your wish, but you will be safe. I swear it on my name, you will be safe."

He seemed to be considering me for a moment, before asking "Can she be trusted?"

I had been expecting the question, but found my lips pressed tightly together, unwilling to part. Can she be trusted?

"I would trust Arielle Hayes with my sister's life." I spoke, pushing aside my doubts. But a small, mean little voice squeaked in my mind before I could stomp it, she already abandoned you once.

Draco did not seem to notice my deliberation, and gave me one curt nod, satisfied with my answer. He extended his right hand towards me, and I raised my own hand to clasp his.

His eyes darted once quickly about the room, as if expecting a third party to pop out of thin air.

"Who will be our Bonder?" asked he, quickly glancing at Serpen before his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

"I'll do it." I murmured, reaching in my right sleeve and holding my wand in my left hand. Draco's eyes shot up in surprise as he regarded my wand.

"I am ambidextrous" I explained "the third party is commonly necessary because you use your wand hand to make the vow, but today, that is not the case. And," I met his gaze to stress the importance of my request "this is one of the secrets you will be required to keep."

A small nod, and I pointed my wand at our hands.

"Do you, Draco, vow not to betray my true intentions to your best friend, Blaise, in any way or form for as long as I live, released from your vow only in the event that Blaise himself is no longer ignorant of them?"

He swallowed with some difficulty, but spoke none the less "I do."

A thin, brilliant strand of fire burst from my wand, wrapping itself around our wrists.

"Do you, Draco, swear to help me, Rosalind, maintain a farce to fool the House, your best friend, Blaise, and whomever else may show interest in it, exempting only individuals who are told the truth by me, Rosalind, until a time where such a farce is no longer necessary?"

He raised his eyebrows a little at the wording, but repeated once again, "I do."

Another flaming serpent wound itself around our wrists, warming our skin.

"Do you, Draco, swear never to repeat a word of this conversation to another party, in no way betray its existence and guard its secrets to the best of your ability, exempting Arielle Pheobe Hayes?"

He observed our wrists as his lips formed the last I do, watching as another serpent wound itself around our bones, its hold almost uncomfortably tight. I tapped our wrists once, lightly, and the strands faded, leaving behind only faint traces. Even though both of us had rather pale complexions, I found it best to cast a minor disillusionment spell, hiding all evidence of our treachery.

I released his hand, allowing myself a moment of pure relief. It was done.

He was safe.

A hand appeared in my line of sight, and I looked up to see Draco observing me with a small half-smile playing at his lips. I could still read the stress of this ordeal on his features, but he was struggling to set it aside. Or at least hide it from sight.

"I suppose we should start now. Come along cousin."

I reached for his hand, doing my best not to tense at the contact, and held it tightly, using it as an anchor as we climbed up towards the castle.

P.S.

The pairing remains BlaisexRosalind, we're getting to that, don't worry!