Comet Confession

September 23, 1944

Comet's banquet hall was nearly unrecognizable, though that came as no surprise – an expansion charm had been placed upon it in order to accommodate the number of guests that were expected to attend. The walls had also been adorned with more than a hundred World Cup banners from her father's collection, a few of them dating back as far as the very first match in 1473.

Well above the crowd, charmed Comet brooms raced across the ceiling, which had been enchanted to take on the appearance of the night sky. Occasionally they would dart across the room in various Quidditch formations and Rosemary pretended to listen as Warren pointed up at them every so often, proudly reciting the name of each flying pattern. Once or twice, she caught a glint of the elusive snitch that her father had released prior to the guests' arrival, the captor of which would earn two seats in the Top Box during the next World Cup.

Warren, Rosemary, Evelyn, Keitch and his fiancé, and the Minister for Magic all sat at a table in the front of the room. Scattered at the other tables around them were dozens of Comet's employees and their families, Basil's old Quidditch mates, investors, several individuals that worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and really everyone else that had any sort of tie to the company. As could be expected, the space was filled with amicable chatter, but all of it came to an abrupt halt and turned into applause as her father arrived at the front podium.

"Good evening, friends, and welcome to Comet Trading Company's Fifteenth Annual Gala!" Another round of applause filled the room and Basil paused while it slowly abated. "I'm grateful to report that we have had another excellent year. I owe that, of course, to our dedicated staff…but also to my family." He turned his head slightly to look at Rose and Evelyn and gave them a soft smile. "Comet would not be where it is today without your tireless support..."

Rosemary felt a twinge of guilt within her, even though he said the same thing just about every year. It occurred to her that this very well might be the last Comet Annual Gala that she ever attended. However, the sadness that began to sting within her at this thought had nothing to do with the event itself and had everything to do with the fact that it would be one of the few remaining times that she would see her parents (at least while they were still on good terms). As much as she tried to tell herself that Tom was the only real family that she needed and that any semblance of closeness with her parents over the years had been nothing but an illusion, these sentimental pains kept creeping back to her consciousness from time to time.

"…While Comet's success is certainly a reason for celebration, Quidditch is the true focus of this evening. There is no other sport that brings people together quite like it, which is exactly what we need in these troubling times. Thank you." After one last round of clapping and a slight bow of his head, he announced: "And now a few words from my dear friend, Randolph Keitch."

Basil stepped down from the podium and Keitch replaced him on the stage. While he was met with a considerable amount of applause, it was nothing like her father had received, probably due to the fact that Basil had always kept much more involved with the day-to-day operations of the company than the other co-founder.

Keitch carried on for a few minutes on generally the same topic that Basil had, while the crowd listened politely. However, when he finally finished, the guests wasted no time starting in with their own conversations or venturing out to the bar and the dance floor as music began to play.

Rosemary quickly became rather annoyed with the way that Warren was loitering near her, but she caught herself, remembering the fact that he was her date. It was sad, really, how much of a toll his favor to her was taking on their friendship. After all, she used to quite like spending time around him; now it was just a necessity.

"Want a drink?" he asked her finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

She nodded and attempted to smile gratefully, but her face felt rigid and her expression rather bitchy. Thankfully, as he started away from her toward the bar, no one approached her to take his place at the seat beside her. As she was in no mood to entertain trivial conversation, this came as an enormous gift.

Rosemary scanned the room and her eyes fell first upon the circle of women near the dance floor, which included her mother. Collectively, they were the wives of the pureblood elite. Envied by many, they wore the finest dresses, conversed with only the most important people, and lived nothing short of extravagantly. She watched in disgust as they exchanged their phony cackles and compliments, knowing full well that each of these women, just like her mother, would return home later that evening and ruthlessly gossip about every single one of the others. Their world was one of endless competition; there was no room for genuine friendship.

It struck Rose in that moment that it had been quite foolish for her mother to give up the love of her life for such a shallow, pallid existence. Fortunately for her, she would not be making the same mistake.

Her eyes traveled next to her father, who was giving an impromptu flying lesson to a boy that looked to be around the age of five or six, while his parents looked on in awe. It had always been rather odd for Rosemary to see her parents through the eyes of others at events such as this one, portrayed as one of the most admired couples in wizarding Britain. To her, they had always been Basil and Evelyn: her strict, yet accomplished parents.

The look on her father's face as the boy flew in messy circles around him was nothing short of delighted. She sat back in her chair and eyed them sullenly; perhaps when her parents disowned her, they would decide to have another child. After all, her father had clearly always wanted a boy, but her mother had insisted upon only having one child so as not to ruin her carefully preserved figure. Perhaps when Rosemary was gone from their lives, she would give in to his wishes.

By this time, Rosemary was truly beginning to crave the cocktail that Warren had promised her. She scanned the bar impatiently, finally spotting Warren in the middle of a conversation with the Minister for Magic. An odd feeling of resentment washed over her as she watched them; that was supposed to be Tom, not Warren.

Suddenly, she felt as though she needed some air; she left the party while Warren and her parents' backs were turned, striding briskly into the corridor before they spotted her. She read the sign next to each door that she passed even though she had no need to; she knew the location of nearly every room at Comet. The rooms surrounding the party belonged primarily to the Marketing Department. These offices were of little interest to her, so her legs carried her instead downstairs to the Experimental Models Division.

She muttered the same password that Warren had earlier that summer and was pleased to find that it had not been changed. As she stepped inside, she was instantly drawn to the nearest Storm-Box. Rosemary took out her wand and said a quick charm to wake it up, as it had been shut off for the weekend.

"Snow," she commanded it.

Rose smiled to herself and summoned a nearby chair as wintery clouds began billowing inside of the glass. As she watched the storm pick up momentum, she lost track of time; some whisper in the back of her mind wondered if it had been minutes or perhaps hours since she had sat down in front of it. She realized that she truly did not care; all she wanted was to be back at school with Tom.

Although, it wasn't as though he was currently at Hogwarts, either. He would be busy much of the weekend with a few of the Tournament scouting events. She knew it was terrible for her to do so, but she couldn't help but smirk at the thought of him spending the entire weekend with Professor Dumbledore, the wizard he detested most of all. Tom had spent nearly an hour ranting about it on Friday evening, though in a way, it had worked out; he was so preoccupied with his discontent over Dumbledore accompanying him to the scouting events that he didn't even seem to mind when she finally told him about the Gala.

Even so, it had seemed like an odd conversation. While he was surprisingly understanding of the fact that attending the party would solidify the lie to her parents quite nicely, his attitude toward all of it made her feel as though she was asking his permission. This made her a tad uncomfortable, considering the fact that, in reality, this was not the case; she was merely informing him of her intent and hoping that he would accept it. Perhaps it had just been a misunderstanding between them – after all, it felt as though they had had quite a few of them, lately.

She sighed and told herself once more that everything would be perfect again as soon as their final year at Hogwarts came to an end.

"There you are," a voice said from behind her, causing her to jump.

It was Warren, of course. She would have wondered how he had possibly found her, but he seemed to have gotten exceptionally skilled at it these past few weeks. No matter how carefully she slipped through the halls of Hogwarts, he managed to stumble upon her; she might have considered it somewhat disturbing if these instances didn't seem to occur entirely by chance for the most part.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, handing her a cocktail.

She realized that she was scowling slightly at him in irritation because he had interrupted her viewing of the perfect snowstorm, but then she reminded herself that she was the one being an awful date and her face softened. "No," she lied, standing to face him while raising the cool glass to her lips and taking a cautious sip. Relief washed over her as she realized that it was a simple gin and tonic.

At least he knew what she drank – he had that going for him, if nothing else.

He gave her a doubting look. "Then why aren't we upstairs dancing?"

She looked away from his blue-green eyes, unable to come up with a decent explanation. He made a valid point and she felt instantly guilty because of it. They were friends. Why was she being so selfish, lately? Why was it so impossible to simply enjoy the company of one of her oldest friends without feeling suffocated?

For all of her irritability with him these past few weeks, she supposed that she at least owed him the truth. "I'm sorry," she started. "It's just…Tom and all…Things are just complicated." Rose took another drink from her cocktail and added: "…As you know."

He nodded, growing quiet for a few moments. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he asked: "He's a half-blood, isn't he?"

"No," she lied to him again. Her answer was quick and automatic; this time, she could hear the immediate uneasiness in her voice.

Warren tilted his head slightly and gave her a look of suspicion.

She sighed and looked at her hands. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Why else would your parents so stubbornly disapprove of him? Isn't he the ideal suitor in all other respects?"

There was a bit of a sarcastic tone in Warren's voice as he spoke. It irritated her at first, but she quickly realized that it was not unlikely that Warren was jealous of Tom and his lengthy list of accomplishments. After all, Tom had inspired jealousy of many of the other boys (most frequently the particularly competitive ones of her own house) for years; she really couldn't blame Warren for feeling subpar in comparison.

Rosemary took a sip of her gin and tonic and nodded her head slightly. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. But Rosemary…" All of a sudden, Warren looked slightly distressed, which was an odd sight considering his normally cheerful demeanor. "But, honestly, will it all be worth it? Will your family actually forgive you?"

"I don't know," she told him, as her mind flickered back to her thoughts from that morning. "But yes, I believe he's worth it."

Warren shook his head and gave her a look that could almost be described as pitying. "I'm sorry, Rosemary, but I think you're being incredibly short-sighted."

Her temper was set off immediately: "I don't remember asking for your opinion on the matter. It's not as though you could possibly understand -"

"Actually, I do," he interrupted. "I never pursued Emily because my parents would have put me in the same position as you."

Upon hearing his words, Rosemary couldn't help but feel an onslaught of guilt toward her former friend.

"Think of the future," Warren continued. "If –or when –Grindelwald is successful, Riddle will become even more of a second-class citizen; how will he get a good job and buy you a nice house and all of the things you're used to?"

Rosemary shook her head. "I don't care about any of those things."

A shadow of a scowl passed over Warren's face. "You should. The world is changing, Rose. It would be foolish to dally on the wrong side." He sighed and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "I-I care for you, Rose. You belong with someone who is actually suitable for you. Someone…like me." He tilted her chin up towards his face with a finger and she was so overcome by pure shock that she didn't even try to move away. "You know I could take better care of you, if you'd only let me."

The entire time he spoke, she wanted desperately to find a way to escape, or at least clasp her hands over her ears. If only she had been wearing the earrings that Tom had given her on her birthday…But she wasn't. And instead she had heard the truth: Warren fancied her. It suddenly appeared as though Tom had been right all along. Any thoughts running through her mind felt like they were strings that had been tangled and knotted; it was all so difficult to process.

"You will always be a pureblood. He can never change that…and neither can you." Warren took an abrupt step toward her and she could smell a subtle trace of Firewhiskey on his breath. "Fighting who you are will get you absolutely nowhere."

Before she had even a moment to react, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Rosemary was too taken aback to notice much at all about the kiss, but a few observations managed to trickle into her consciousness: for one, his lips were quite chapped from hour after hour of Quidditch practice and the accompanying wind. Also, kissing him felt as she would imagine it would if he had been her cousin (not that she really knew – it wasn't like she actually had an extended family, save for a widowed aunt on her father's side).

She pulled away from him as soon as she regained herself. Instantly he looked crestfallen and there was a small part of her that felt bad for him, but the overwhelming majority of her emotions were split between confusion and anger. Rosemary wasted no time in getting herself away from him, refusing to look him in the eye as she turned and hurried away in the direction of the ballroom.

Back inside, her first stop was (understandably) the bar. She ordered straight gin and swallowed it as though it was her lifeblood, hoping that it might calm her. Unfortunately, it did little; although she hadn't kissed Warren back and it had lasted for only fractions of a second anyway, Rosemary felt entirely distraught with guilt, both toward Tom and Warren.

How could she be so blind, so naïve?

Rose took a seat at the nearest table and cradled her head in her hands, quite seriously contemplating the prospect of erasing all of her memories of that evening. The next time she looked up, she was horrified to see her mother and walking toward her, linked arm and arm with Warren's mum.

"I thought my son would be with you," Sylvia Cramer said in amusement as they reached her.

"He just stepped outside for a moment," Rosemary said quickly with a smile, though she was barely holding things together with her spinning thoughts. If she had just rejected him, did that mean that the entire plan was off? Surely he'd be too uncomfortable to help her, now.

Sylvia smiled. "Ah. He probably went and took a broom for a spin. I swear to Merlin, that boy is in the air more than he's ever been on the ground."

Rosemary forced herself to choke out a laugh while Evelyn and Sylvia burst into a fit of giggles as though her comment was the funniest thing that they had ever heard.

Their laughter finally died away and Warren's mum reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind Rose's ear, a gesture which made her highly uncomfortable. "Well, if there's anything at all that can distract him from Quidditch it's you, my dear. You should just hear the way he carries on about you."

She instantly felt sick to her stomach and couldn't think of anything that would have made her feel worse. Now she not only felt guilty for hurting Warren and Tom, she felt guilty for the way she would eventually hurt Warren's parents, the moment that they found out it had all been a sham to be with Tom (that is, if by some miracle Warren was still willing to help her). As per their agreement, he would be playing the part of the innocent victim she had heartlessly used and tossed aside. Did she really have it in her to hurt such decent people?

She supposed she did; she had to, really. It wasn't as though there was much in the way of an alternative.

By the next morning, on the way back to Hogwarts, the nauseous feeling in her stomach and the throbbing of her head had yet to wane. The silver lining was the fact that she was alone with her thoughts, as the train was almost entirely empty; she knew that Warren was on it somewhere, but she hadn't seen him at all since the previous night. In fact, even at the party she hadn't seen much of him. He was making a clear effort to avoid her at all cost, chatting up just about everyone in the room while Rosemary stood in the shadows near a corner of the party, pretending that she was invisible.

Of course, there was the issue of Tom. How on earth was she going to tell him? She fretted over this question nearly the entire train ride, but was finally distracted when she heard a soft tap on the glass of her compartment door.

Her eyes widened when she looked up to see Warren, but she supposed she should have expected him. They had to talk at one point or another. She unlocked the door and he slid it open, sitting down carefully in the seat across from her.

They stared at each other in silence, until Warren finally sighed and said: "I'm sorry, Rose. I know I was out of line last night…"

"No, it's okay…" she said quietly. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty for it, knowing that it would only make her feel guiltier.

He shook his head. "It's true, I was out of line. I guess I just had a little too much to drink." Even though she knew that this was not true, that he had only faintly smelled of alcohol when they kissed, he looked so disturbingly somber that she would never dare to point it out. Instead, she made herself smile kindly and nod at him.

"Can we please pretend that last night never happened?"

The skin on her face felt tighter as she forced her smile to persist. "Of course."

As if that seemed at all plausible.

"It's delicious to have people adore you, but it's exhausting, too. Particularly when your own feelings don't match theirs." - Tasha Alexander

A big thanks to those of you that have left reviews recently (Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, How910, CharlotteBlackwood, RosiePosie15, Batfreak02, and A regrettable decision)! I particularly loved reading your ideas for Tom's favorite ice cream flavor and the reasons behind them. :D I've given it some thought and I think my choice for him would be smoked jalapeno dark chocolate (though I'm not sure that this actually exists...if it does, let me know because I WANT IT).

Also, sorry I have yet to reply to most of your reviews. :/ I've been crazy busy trying to get things done (and get these last few chapters written!) before leaving for my trip this weekend!

Now, on to this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I know it was entirely Rose's POV and there was no Tom (:/), but next chapter will be all from his perspective. And you can bet that a lot is going to happen.(; Look for an update soon!