Chapter Three Part 4: Her Hogwarts Year: 1994

A/N: LET'S GO, me! I am really cranking out these chapters. Ha, ha, ha! I hope y'all enjoy it because I had a lot of fun writing this. Tee-hee.

Love, Blossom '3'

Rosie was on the beach in the most beautiful scarlet sundress. She was barefoot, holding a pair of strappy sandals in her left hand. She was holding the hand of her beloved in her right. Her scarlet sundress nearly matched the shade of her beloved's hair that rustled in the wind. He was wearing a deep-emerald, satin button-down, and shorts. It was early morning dawn, and the sun was about to rise above the ocean line. The sky was painted in indigos and violets with drabbles of peach. The sand felt soft between her toes as if she was sinking her feet into memory foam pillows. The smell of fresh air, and the feeling of ocean mist on Rosie's face.

Her red-headed lover pulled her to the shore. The water was freezing, yet it didn't faze her. He splashed her, and she splashed him back. And Rosie laughed like she never had before. She had never heard herself cry out in so much glee, or had felt that level of high endorphins and adrenaline. Rosie didn't find herself the type of person to laugh at just anything.

"C'mere," her lover said, pulling her to him with both hands. He proceeded to kneel into the soft ocean waves.

"Rosie, my darling-"

Then Rosie woke up in a light sweat, breathing heavy. She was wrapped in her white sheets and Slytherin green duvet. The dream was so warm and her room was so much more cool and cold-toned. Bollocks. Rosie felt a heat rise within her. Her body was hot. The dream was so vivid, so intense. Intense with fire.

"Oh, my merlin! YES! I will-I will go to the ball with you!" Said the girl. She was crying with tears falling from the corner of her eyes. Her boyfriend, or who Rosie assumed to be, was down on his right knee, with an enormous bouquet of roses clasped in front of him. He had just asked the crying girl if she could do the honor of accompanying him to the Yule Ball. With such a very public grand gesture, how was the girl supposed to say 'no'? She was a Ravenclaw, and a fifth year no doubt. Judging by the girl's use of heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow on her face. Rosie just knew that the girl was on the older side. Rosie had a pretty strong intuition regarding things like age and such.

Rosie hated public gestures with a strong passion. She hated things like being put on the spot. It made her want to hurl. It was like she was being stripped naked– emotionally in front of everyone so as to have a laugh at her. Last year, during the summer, Rosie's father and Cameron for some reason thought it would be a splendid idea to throw Rosie a massive soiree of sorts for her thirteenth birthday party. She had just become a teen after all. It was a big mark in a wizard's life. Father had always said that the teenage years were another step into adulthood as if he were trying to rush her into growing up. Anyway, the party was filled with the most up-to-date bits and bobs any witch's teen party needed. And in Father's eyes, they were all the bits and bobs needed for high society, pure-bloods only party. It was the whole shebang. A high-profile V.I.P list of all the top dogs from Father's workplace, which included all of his co-workers and bosses. Party decorations and themes were designed by the most prestigious pure-blood designers in London, and the most famously well-known string quartet to play the biggest symphony hits of the year.

When Father and Cameron escorted her to the edge of the balcony that overlooked the ballroom and unveiled her blindfold, Rosie wanted to turn around on her heel and run away. Rosie didn't take pure-bloods as the type to enjoy a surprise birthday party, but apparently, they were quite fond of it. Their faces lit up in the brightest ways as they wished Rosie a 'happy birthday' altogether when Father unveiled the blindfold off her face.

Father found Rosie puking her guts out in the nearest lavatory. He apologized profusely. He was dumbfounded by Rosie's severe reaction– that's what he said he was apologizing for and said that next time, he would run things through her first. Rosie remembered the sight of her tear dollops falling onto the bathroom seat. She was crying– only because she was disgusted at herself for stooping so low as to puke. Father was rubbing her back, coaxing her into going back to the party, that all these guests had made time out of their day to celebrate her birthday, so Rosie had complied into doing so.

"I will go to the Yule Ball with you!" The crying girl leapt into her boyfriend's arms, wrapping him in an embrace. She kissed him full on the lips, and by that, she apparently did not care less about the stares from all around. Rosie would have had to vomit.

Daphne was asked to the ball four– no, five times. Yes! It was five boys in the past month, and she rejected every single one of them. Daphne had the pick of the litter. Meanwhile, Tiffany was eagerly waiting for Johann– that snarky bastard– to ask her to be his date to the ball.

Please, anyone, but Johann! Rosie thought.

She loved Tiffany, but deep down, she was secretly hoping Johann wouldn't ask her to the ball. That made her sound like a complete bitch, but Johann was a complete casanova, a player. Tiffany was only going to get hurt. And a heartbroken Tiffany was such a pain in the arse. If it came down to a breaking point of Tiffany forcing herself to ask Johann to the ball instead of him, Rosie was going to have to desperately prepare herself for the absolute meltdown that was a heartbroken Tiffany Young.

What a harsh winter…

For the sixth time this week, Rosie had witnessed the most second-hand embarrassing scene she had ever seen in her life, another love confession from a boy to Daphne, asking her to the Yule Ball. Every boy who had asked her out was the same. Jittery. Shifty legs. Stuttering words. And minimal eye contact with Daphne. They were all quite awkward with their twiddling thumbs and side-to-side stepping. The sweat on their brow could not have made the situation any more bearable.

Daphne went straight to the point. She set down her cup of yogurt and granola and shot a nasty look at the boy, "May I help you?"

"U-Uh, I-I" the boy fumbled over his words.

Rosie could tell Daphne was growing impatient for a response for this boy she had never seen before. Used robe. Black and yellow tie, clearly a knock-off brand from the ones Hogwarts required for purchase. A half-blood Hufflepuff, perhaps?
Daphne stared at him.

The boy looked down at the palm of his hand. His eyes scanned it, "I-I've been admiring you from a distance, Ms. Greengrass, and I was wondering–"

"-I'm going to stop you right there," Daphne interrupted, "First of all, who are you?"

"Uh, w-we've been in the same classes all semester," the boy spoke out. Half-blood. Hufflepuff, and a fourth year.

"-Second of all, I do not date Hufflepuffs," Daphne added. The boy got quiet, and so did students nearby in the Great Hall–

"-and third, have you seen you're hair? I would never go to the Yule ball with hair looking like that." Daphne went back to her food, and the boy ran off. Rosie swore she saw tears at the corner of the boy's eyes.

"Blimey, Daphne, have you any conscience? You tore that poor boy into shreds. What's got you in a twist?" Rosie murmured.

"Tiffany is truly, honestly getting on my last nerve. Nearly every moment she gets a chance, she's wondering if Johann is going to ask her to that stupid ball," Daphne whispered angrily. "And up to this point, if Johann hasn't asked her to the ball, he never will. Stupid boys like him only look twice if they're interested."

"How would you know?" Rosie questioned.

"I know so," Daphne commented, "How do you think I sort out the good and bad eggs myself? I'm always on Johann's side of the spectrum when it comes to the dating life."

"You didn't have to make the boy cry," Rosie insisted.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it when the answer is going to be the same as the ones before. It's a waste of my time and energy."

There was no use in arguing any further when Daphne's beliefs were firmly set in stone.

"Whatever… I'll see you in class," Daphne stood up from her seat and walked away, leaving her yogurt and granola half-eaten.

"Geez," Rosie mumbled to herself, "Drama queen much?"

"That was pretty amazing of Greengrass, in my opinion." It was Cameron. "Hey, little sister," he said with a cheeky look on his face. He slid into the spot next to Rosie.

"What do you want?" Rosie said hardly bothering to acknowledge her brother.

"Hey, chill out. I just wanted to ask you a question about Pucey," Cameron said.

"What about him?" Rosie said with one of her eyebrows raised.

"I've just been wondering about certain things," Cameron said.

"What things?" Rosie answered.

"What I've been hearing– the word that got around is that you were seen hanging out with Adrian Pucey– in Hogsmeade."

"Well, it's true."

Cameron's nose flared. His eyebrows furrowed, "Alright, he's dead meat," Cameron said, getting out of his seat, "Pucey's going the right way for a smack bottom."

Rosie grabbed Cameron's wrist before he could get away, "C'mon, Adrian was the perfect gentleman. The whole outing was completely respectable on pure-blood standards. I don't see what the problem is?"

"That doesn't matter!" Cameron hissed. "Best mates don't hang out with each other's little sisters, especially mine– and since when did you call him Adrian?" Cam tried to pull away from Rosie's grasp.

"Cam, that doesn't matter," Rosie pleaded, "You swore no broken noses."

Cameron ignored her. "That doesn't mean I can't rough him up a bit–"

"-Cameron, please, anything but that," Rosie pleaded once more, "Just give it a rest. You're making a scene!"

"Fine." Cameron shook his hand away from Rosie's grip, "But I'm not making any promises."

It was study period in the Great hall, which happened every so often. The only scary thing about it this time was that it was Snape's turn to be what Rosie liked to call the 'chaperone'. At least that's what all the students joked about. Snape most likely despised that. Rumors about the man tended to make a full circle right back to him. It made for an awkward class time. The man was not afraid in addressing the truth.

It would probably be better if Rosie stuck to the word 'supervisor'. Thanks to Professor Snape, the Great Hall was ten times quieter than it was usually. There were bits of stifling laughter here and there, but if Snape looked in a students' direction less than twice, the laughter was forever, instantly silenced.

Several students finished their work and turned it in to Snape. He would briefly scroll through the pages to check the student's journal work and then set it down on the table beside him. The kids who finished first were all the high-achieving kids. The smart ones. Rosie wished that population included her, but here she was wasting time thinking that she should have finished her work first rather than actually doing the hard work herself.

The supervisor switched to Professor Flitwick. He was much more lenient with the student's freedom to chat. The Gryffindors took complete advantage of that. Rosie was still pissed at Daphne, so she wasn't sitting next to Daphne, who sat in a corner like a hermit. Rosie wouldn't dare to sit by Tiffany out of her own volition because that would put her on the top of Daphne's hate list.

Since Rosie wasn't talking to Daphne at the moment, she sat with Pansy for study hall. She hadn't spoken to Pansy all that often this semester, unless they were partnered in class, or passed by each other in the hallway. Rosie ought to hang out more with Pansy. They were childhood friends. And sometimes, Rosie would forget what a good friend Pansy was. She didn't cause Rosie a headache as Daphne and Tiffany did. She had Daphne's honesty and Tiffany's emotional intelligence. Pansy was that one friend whom you could go a whole year without talking, but when you take one day to catch up, it's like that one friend was there with you throughout the entire year. Although, one negative thing about sitting next to Pansy meant that Rosie would have to voluntarily hang out with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. The four were like a package with Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini making an occasional special appearance. Rosie knew that Nott and Zabini did not take a liking to Pansy.

"Draco owled me a bouquet of a dozen pansies yesterday, and inside the bouquet, was a tiny note asking me to the ball!" She gushed. "Wasn't that sweet of him?

"Yes, very sweet," Rosie half-smiled. She forgot that being around Pansy was like a free advertisement on Malfoy real estate. A.K.A, the real estate being Pansy's more than descriptive words praising Draco's name.

"Oh, don't worry, Rosie. Someone's going to ask you soon enough." Pansy booped Rosie's nose.

Rosie decided to tune Pansy out as she kept going on and on about Draco. The Gryffindors were really taking advantage of Professor Flitwick being the supervisor. They were getting more talkative, and loud… Gryffindors always did have a lack of spatial awareness to those around them.

"So what's the 411 with George?" Rosie's ears piqued in interest at the mention of George's name. It was Angelina Johnson talking to Alicia Spinnet. Rosie recognized them. They were both chasers on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Their beauty was polar opposites of each other. Angelina was a babe, a looker. Ebony, smooth skin and dark, coal eyes. Alicia was the ice queen. Blonde hair and blue eyes so piercing it gave you chills down your spine. They were the older girls, who were more mature, and girls who had grown into their natural beauty.

Rosie could never compare. The only person in year 4 that Rosie could think to rise up to the challenge in Johnson and Spinnet's experience of getting boys was Daphne.

"No dice," Alicia responded with a groan. She flipped her tone of voice into one of excitement, "But hey, Fred finally asked you to go! What dress are you going to wear?"

"I think I was going to wear my mum's old dress. It's all I can afford mostly," Angelina said, "My mum and I are trying to save up to go on a trip this summer. And I wanted to see if I can snatch myself a Nimbus 2000 at least for next year's quidditch season. What about your dress? You trying to pick out colors for you and George to wear?"

Alicia flipped her ridiculously luscious blonde hair over her shoulders, "Ugh, I've been trying to give George the most obvious hints about asking me out. He's being impossible! It's as if someone cast 'obliviate' on him and now, he doesn't even remember I existed! Angie, hex me now, so that I may forget I ever wanted George to ask me out, or to be his girlfriend for that matter."

Girlfriend? Rosie's eyes widened. She used the 'g-word! Compared to Rosie's measly feelings, Spinnet seemed to have it harder, but Spinnet could literally have any boy she wanted. Why'd she have to choose George out of all people?

"On the bright side of things, the dress I'm going to wear is this gorgeous royal purple in a halter top style. There's this cute pleating on the chest area. In afraid though that it might be too plain," Angelina confessed.

"I'm sure we can spruce it up," Alicia said, "Rest assured, Angie, we're going to have the best first ball of our lives. Us and the Weasley twins could be a matching set, perhaps?"

Rosie had been to a handful of balls in her lifetime– even as an infant if she might add. The Yule ball wasn't anything that special. Rosie grew up going to her Father's ministry events or soirees held at Malfoy Manor. The events were standard: formal attire and idle small talk. She was practically raised in gowns and jewels. But Rosie was grateful. It was no doubt that Rosie was grateful. She was grateful for everything, for all the things Father provided for her, and her upbringing. She couldn't necessarily complain about that.

"Ew, no matching," Angelina cringed, "Why would we match when we know Fred and George are going to? We aren't trying to look like a circus."

"I thought it would look sort of cute— being a matching set," Alicia said.

"You better hold your horses, 'Licia. First of all, I know that I looked better in warm tones, and you look better in cool shades. And, second of all, I'm wearing my mum's dress, remember?"

"I should just ask George what he's wearing, so even if I don't go with him, we'll still be matching," Alicia said.

Rosie sat with Tiffany in the Slytherin–Ravenclaw class for charms. Professor Flitwick liked to promote integrating between other houses, so Rosie always paired with Tiffany under a minor technicality. Rosie just so happened to be better at charms than Daphne, so Tiffany tended to partner with her more than Daphne.
This time around, Daphne didn't seem to mind so much, being left alone. She didn't make such a fuss of how much it bothered her to be partnered with some rando Ravenclaw. She was acting rather stand-offish– not to Rosie, thank goodness! Otherwise, Rosie would have felt guilty the entire class time.

"Are you alright?" Rosie leaned over the small aisle that split between her desk and Daphne's.

"In a bit of a mood that's all," Daphne muttered while reading her textbook. The weird thing was that Daphne would only respond directly to Rosie. If Tiffany made a comment toward Daphne, Daphne would straight up ignore her. Although, Tiffany did not seem to mind. She kept talking without a care in the world. She was being a bit of a blabbermouth in this charms class. Rosie had to admit that. Even Flitwick had told her multiple times to settle down. Tiffany just kept going on and on about how the Yule Ball was going to be fantastic, and that Johann was going to take her. She was putting her conversation on blast for the whole class to hear. Even Draco, the king of boasting and being a showboat was sick of Tiffany. In fact, he told Tiffany to 'shut up' multiple times under his breath, and Rosie did nothing to stop it.

That was one of the reasons why Rosie was glad to be put in Slytherin, why she gravitated towards them as her people. All Slytherins had the common decency to know when and where to stop bragging. Slytherins were mostly used to all the riches and finer things in life. At some point, it gets rather redundant to keep bragging about it to other fellow Slytherins. They all had the same things. Same lifestyles equaled the same attitude towards a pure-blood's level of modesty.
Rosie could not have been more glad when Professor Flitwick dismissed the class. Tiffany left the class first with her Ravenclaw dorm mates, and Rosie stayed back to check on Daphne. Rosie linked her arm with Daphne's on the way out of the classroom, "Hey," Rosie said in a sing-song voice, "I was going to grab something from the Great Hall. Wanna come with?"

Daphne gave a polite smile, her half-smile, "Sure."

Rosie tried to dance around the situation about Tiffany lightly, "So, um, is something going on between you and Tiffany?"

"Nope. Nothing wrong," Daphne deflected.

"It certainly doesn't seem like nothing," Rosie urged.

"Well, it's none of your business." Daphne spat out, ripping her arm out of Rosie's before going off on her own.

"Oh. Ok-ay," Rosie whispered to herself as she watched Daphne shrink smaller and smaller down the hall.

"Nice fight your brother had," Draco said as he passed by Rosie. His cronies snickered along with him.

"I hope your brother doesn't get into too much trouble," Pansy said, wishing her well.

"F-Fight? What fight?" Rosie tried to stop Draco by grabbing his hand. Draco instantly pulled his hand away with a scared look.

"What? All I did was touch your hand," Rosie said. Pansy signaled Draco to go ahead without her. She waited until prying eyes were gone.

"You seriously haven't heard?" Pansy asked. "Out of all these Yule Ball confessionals, this was the most exciting thing to unfold this week! Truly it was amazing. Even though I got a Yule Ball confessional from Drakey-poo, I was sort of growing rather tired from all the-"

"-Pansy. What fight?" Rosie wanted Pansy to get straight to the point, so she asked her to keep the story short and concise. No gory details, please.

Apparently, Cameron had gotten in a fight, no duh there. Rosie just needed to know why. Down to the specifics, Cameron had gotten in a real public fight with Adrian. Rosie couldn't believe that Cameron really did just ignore everything she warned him not to do! To make matters worse, the fight had caused everyone in Slytherin house with 'xy' chromosome to avoid her like the plague. Take Draco for example, too scared to even be touched by her. That for sure meant no date to the Yule ball for Rosie Anh.

Rosie didn't notice it as clearly as before, but she did have a weird feeling whenever she would make eye contact with a boy. The only ones who were truly aware of Cameron's wrath were those of the Slytherin house. Rosie wanted to die of embarrassment. Rosie just hoped that the madness would calm down after this by the end of the week. That's how it was with every fight or rumor. It would be the highlight of the week, and then, everyone would forget about it as soon as the next big piece of gossip came.

If only Rosie could hide underneath a rock for a few days that would be great. Although, Rosie wasn't one to skip classes. She liked to keep a high attendance record.

Rosie wanted to die of embarrassment times two, and it didn't help that she ran into him outside of the boy's showers. Him, being Adrian. An Adrian fresh out of the showers. His brunette hair was wet and stringy against his forehead. A small towel was wrapped around his neck, a few drabbles of water dripped down his neck. He was in a loose, oversized t-shirt, lounge pants, and a pair of waterproof slides. He looked good in his non-uptight, non-rich-kid clothes.

Then Rosie saw it. She covered her mouth in shock, "Oh, no."

Scattered patterns of bruises were littered around Adrian's left eye. He had an awful angular bump on the left side of his brow bone to match the purple patches around his eye.

Adrian stopped in his tracks after spotting Rosie. A soft 'oh' left his mouth, "Hey, Rosie."

"What happened?" Rosie gently brushed her hand against Adrian's brow bone and he responded with a tiny hiss.

"Courtesy of your brother," Adrian gave a weak smile.

"Why didn't you go to the hospital wing?" Rosie asked concerned.

"It'll heal by itself," Adrian protested sheepishly.

"You could've spelled it away yourself," Rosie argued.

"Wouldn't have made a difference when your brother could give me a fresh, new bruise if I spelled the old one gone. It wasn't just the date, you know ,that made him upset."

"Huh?" Rosie said.

"He didn't just give me the bruise because of the date."

"Then, why?"

"I asked him if I could take you to the Yule Ball." Adrian gave another weak smile with a shrug.

"O-Oh. Y-You," Rosie's voice faltered. "Adrian, you could've just asked me yourself."
"I was going to. I promise. I just wanted your brother to also hear it from me first," Adrian said, "Nothing is worse than hearing a rumor from word of mouth and not from the people the rumor is about."

"That's fair," Rosie said.

"So, was that a 'yes' from you?" Adrian asked.

"Hm?"

"You said that I could've asked you to the ball myself. Did that mean 'yes'?" He spoke so quietly, that it was almost a whisper.

Rosie did not notice the shift in Adrian's tone until now. His dewy eyes were in a haze, his pupils slightly dilated. His eyes were on Rosie, making her feel vulnerable.

"Perhaps if you asked me properly, I'll give you an answer," Rosie grinned shyly.

"You gave me a fright there, but I guess I never did ask you properly like a gentleman should," Adrian said, Okay– well. Here I go." Adrian kept his eyes steady, "Rosie– whew! I'm getting a little nervous. Okay, okay, I got it. Rosie Anh, could I take you to the dance?"

A/N: How was that for the new chapter? He, he.