August 25th, 1994.

As the early morning sunlight spread across the city, the air felt warm and fresh, hinting at the promise of a beautiful day ahead. The garden in front of Rose burst with life, buzzing and alive in every corner.

She walked along the curving stone path, the gentle crunch of gravel under her sandals creating a soft rhythm. The grass, glazed by morning dew, sparkled like diamonds, and the scent of blooming flowers wrapped her in a gentle embrace. The colors were vibrant – fiery reds, cheerful yellows, and calm purples painted the scene in a delicate blend.

A wrought-iron table sat in the shade of an ancient oak tree, older than the Victorian house itself. Its sprawling branches provided a welcome escape from the sun's warmth. Rose settled onto a chair, feeling the coolness of its metal against her skin. Leaves rustled softly, accompanied by distant sounds of the city.

The air smelled of freshly cut grass, with a twist of heat, a rare warm breeze coming through the bushes every so often. The thick bushes gave the house the very needed privacy of a wizard home, along with the countless charms that prevented muggles from peeking into their garden. She poured herself a cold glass of iced tea.

Suddenly, a loud crack burst her bubble of thought and made her drop the heavy glass, spilling the tea all over her dress and a newspaper that was waiting for her next to the pitcher.

''Ugh!'' she groaned at the three figures appearing in front of her.

''Good morning, miss!'' said an unfamiliar small house-elf, quickly picking up the glass and putting it back on the table, tea still dripping from it onto Rose's dress.

''Oh Merlin, I missed you so much!'' cried Amelia, throwing herself at Rose in a crushing hug. Her tanned skin was glowing warmly, and she seemed to have absorbed the sun during her trip, and sun-kissed highlights in her hair were shimmering in the morning light. Around her wrist, dainty bracelets of seashells and beach stones dangled with her every move.

Rose stood up, untangling herself from her friend. Graham stood tall and proud, with a Cheshire smirk on his face. His complexion contrasted his usually sleek dark hair, giving him the distinct rugged charm of someone who would probably catch on fire if left in the sun for too long. Today, however, it was as if he had just emerged from a day spent in mountains, his hair tousled by the wind and a healthy flush on his cheeks.

''You could have knocked, you know. And you're far too early!''

She sounded like her father.

''That would be no fun.'' He ruffled her hair and then proceeded to grab a biscuit from a tray on the table. ''Early, is it? Just the biggest match of the season, no rush," the two girls were eyeing him as if he were some madman. "Well, don't just stand there! Let's go!''

''He's been acting like this since last week,'' Amelia rolled her eyes.

''Come on, chop-chop! They won't hold out for us! Just imagine the booze—'' he seemed to have got lost in the thought.

''Speaking of boys, where is that handsome little brother of yours?'' Amelia asked, peaking at the window of Theo's room.

''Amelia! He's in Cornwall with Father. I highly doubt he would raise his nose out of his books to watch Quidditch with you two." Rose looked down at the big stain on the skirt of the dress. "And now I have to change. I really liked this one, you know.''

Rose's words regarding her brother weren't a lie, but a half-truth. She didn't completely understand why he preferred their stately, or rather country home to the London house. It was colder, darker, and always felt more formal, some of which had to do with their father's ever present watchful eye. While Rose preferred the liberty of the city, Theo spent the whole summer in Cornwall. Even more reclusive than he would usually be, studying old magical tomes and having weekly tea with the Malfoys in Wiltshire. She missed them, but not enough to put a hold on her summer of freedom.

Amelia was already dragging her towards the open double doors of the house.

''I almost forgot how cliché you are,'' She commented, looking at the house. Its imposing façade stood as a testament to history and luxury. The sun cast a warm, golden glow upon the elegant brickwork. Tall, proud windows lined the back, each adorned with curtains that seemed to dance with every breeze. They were like portals to another world, offering a glimpse into the life of opulence and sophistication that might've resided within. Intricate ironwork adorned the windows, showcasing the craftsmanship that had gone into every detail of the architectural masterpiece.

Her mother decorated the interiors a long time ago, before Rose was even born. She was a vision of grace and refinement, and she lingered in Rose's memory like a delicate perfume. In the scarce memories she still recalled, her presence was elegant, each movement and gesture executed with the poise of someone accustomed to the grandeur of aristocratic life. She was richer than her husband, and didn't care to hide or subdue it like a 'proper lady' perhaps would have done. The house had many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with brightly coloured books, some of which were written by muggles - classics she would tell Rose, always insisting that if she wanted to learn about the arts she had to be thorough. Rose was six, so it all sounded like gibberish anyway. The only reason she remembered it was because her mother was gone just a few days after that. The time between that conversation with her mother and the dreadful stormy night felt like gaps in her memory – those couldn't have been the last words she spoke to her? She had barely any recollection of the brief illness that took her.

Later, her father recounted numerous stories about her. He described how she openly displayed her disdain for the English, a fact that puzzled Rose considering she had married one of the most traditional English wizards imaginable. She could envision her, unapologetic at heart, wearing intricately woven robes that spoke of her status. Her jewelry, a display of pearls and diamonds that caught the candlelight, mirroring the social circles she moved in. Each piece holding a story, reflecting her lineage and connections. Even in her looks she had mastered the subtle art of diplomacy.

She could picture her scolding the wives of her husband's friends during dinner parties. She would say sharp things about her favorite muggle sculptor or pastry chef so that even her father would go red in the face. He enjoyed talking about her, it was as if he was bringing her back to life by sharing memories with them.

''More cliché than Miss Summer-villa-in-Spain?" Rose raised an eyebrow. "How's that been by the way?'' she continued, walking up the spiraling staircase toward her bedroom. Amelia's family practically invented the notion of being posh, but in swooped Amelia Rosier with her own brand of rebellion – a mix of vulgar language, inappropriate clothing, and men - none of whom she actually slept with, all of it an intricate show to upset her parents.

''Awful, honestly,'' she replied. ''Had to be with my brothers the whole time, pigs.''

Rose took a hold on her hand, inspecting the number the bracelets on her wrist. "How many evil spirits are you warding off?"

Amelia scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Come on, that's just muggle rubbish. What did you do all summer?"

"I dunno, I listened to music, I guess? Read, a lot," Rose replied.

"You've spent two months listening to music and reading?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"Hush there, I went out a little."

"More than a little, I'd say," she said, throwing Rose a copy of Witch Weekly that was conveniently in her bag.

Amelia came prepared. Donaghan Tremlett was on the front page, kissing an inconspicuous girl. His hair hid Rose's face in the photograph, so at the time she didn't think it would be a big deal.

Except, they did publish her name under the picture, and Tremlett was muggle-born.

Rose thanked the Cosmos that nobody from her father's circle seemed to read Witch Weekly. It wasn't anything she hadn't already seen; the magazine had documented the parties that their friend Maggie had gotten them invited to in excruciating detail for the past eight issues. Rose was rarely mentioned by name, but was in some pictures.

"Come on, you were invited too..." Rose nudged Amelia, and she reacted by rolling her eyes.

But her parents were less lenient than Rose's father. Or perhaps more observant.

They laughed and turned the bedroom into a mess of clothes, throwing them around without care until a colourful pile of fabrics covered the floor and they could hear Graham screaming from the garden that they had to leave.

"Is this too skanky?" Rose showed Amelia a skirt.

"Yes. Besides, we're going to a Quidditch match, so wear jeans. Maybe a vest too, the muggles think those are very fashionable."

The match was a glorious event. With a good-looking Bulgarian player and funny leprechauns. It was easy to have fun watching the game even for those who weren't fans of the sport.

But the party after the match was better. Maggie welcomed them to the private tent of the Irish team and it took Amelia approximately five seconds to find a new guy to obsess over. Meanwhile, Rose found out that Graham was right about the drinks – they were really good. And strong.

They danced and sang with them for a while but after Rose mistook a stranger for Tremlett, tripped over a chair falling flat on her arse, she figured it was time to leave, preferably with little notice. She slipped out of the party, setting off towards their tent.

It was a bit far, but she enjoyed the cool breeze in her hair and on her flushed cheeks. She had taken her shoes off, so she walked and danced on the damp grass, moving along past shiny structures – some of them hardly resembled actual tents.

The breeze of the night went well with the lingering tingle from all the whiskey she drank. So, when she heard shouts, to her they sounded like cheers of victory. It took her more than a few moments to notice anything strange, but when she looked around and saw a crowd of people running to her left, extinguishing campfires as they hurried in a frenzy toward the forest, Rose quickly slipped her shoes back on and tried to follow the same direction they were all running to.

It all quickly turned to panic, but she was still too out of it to figure out what they were all running from. She kept turning around until something caught her eye.

In the very back of the field hooded figures with masked faces moved in a tight group yelling and laughing while firing spells everywhere. There were levitating shapes above them.

Four muggles, upside down, dangling in the air above the masked figures like sacks of potatoes.

She watched them awkwardly for a moment and a woman pushed her so hard that she hit the ground, landing painfully on her ankle.

"Shit!" she cursed, her eyes instantly watering from the pain. People were still chaotically rushing around her, and as she attempted to stand her legs wobbled and she was immediately back on the ground.

"Take my hand," a boy ran towards her and helped her up. His companion resembled him a lot, a bit taller and leaner, and with a longer face. "Bill, go on without me, tell father I'll come as soon as I can."

The taller one nodded and ran towards the hooded figures without saying a word.

"Thank you," Rose mumbled while holding onto him for balance. "I should be just fine now."

"Fine?" he looked at her in disbelief. "We should move away from the crowd."

He was right. She attempted to take a few steps, and with his assistance, they slowly made their way towards the woods. It was dark, and as she struggled to move across the many branches and thick roots, she couldn't help but laugh at her terrible luck. After hopping for who knows how long, they finally came to a stop.

"Here, sit on this," He said while removing his jacket, exposing his muscular arms.

She tried to act nonchalant, but she couldn't stop staring at him. Something was strangely familiar about this stranger's face. He helped her lower herself to sit on the jacket and did the same himself.

"You're safe."

"Thank you," she blurted out and he smiled. "I mean really, thank you. "

"Come now, I couldn't just leave you there," he shrugged. "Hold on, let me try something."

Before she could protest, he whispered a spell and tapped her ankle with his wand. With a hushed yet sharp crack, it felt like the pain had vanished. She clenched her teeth, holding onto his hand more tightly, and she could taste the blood in her mouth. After a moment, her ankle felt numb, but also pain-free.

"Why—" She looked at it in awe. She thought it would be too bad for just a simple spell to fix it. "Are you a healer?"

She felt naïve for asking, yet she figured it was better than enduring an uncomfortable silence.

She was awfully aware that she was sitting in the middle of a dark forest alone with a handsome stranger; definitely not her finest moment of the evening.

"Oh, no," he laughed. "Not that my mother didn't try to convince me to train of course."

They shared a laugh, and he moved his fingers to touch her chin.

"Your lip is bleeding," he stated matter-of-factly. He quickly withdrew his hand and explained. "I could fix that too, if you want me to?"

"Oh no, it's quite alright." Rose didn't find the idea of someone who wasn't even a healer fixing anything around her face very amusing. She smiled, "I'll live."

He smiled back, "I'm Charlie."

But before any more words were exchanged, Amelia appeared with her house-elf, pulling a stumbling drunk Graham with them. She yelled at Rose, eyeing the boy suspiciously as she poked the air around them with her lit-up wand. Before Amelia hauled them all off, Rose turned back to Charlie to say goodbye.

"Thank you," Rose didn't know what else to say. "You really saved me there."

"Don't sweat it. See ya 'round?" the unnamed boy smirked and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

He was very handsome.

"'See ya 'round?'" Amelia mocked before the elf disapparated them. "He's quite fit. Oh, and by the way, you have blood on your teeth."

Perhaps she should have stayed in the dark and dangerous forest—forever.

Hi there!

Welcome to Rose's story. I've created a Pinterest account to keep track of visuals and the feelings I want to portray in some of the scenes.
If you're interested to see how I've imagined the characters, feel free to check it out: pinterest/arctic_spring

! Disclaimer ! You absolutely do not have to agree with me on what the characters/places look like. As a vivid reader I want everyone to have the choice to imagine whatever they want, so feel free to see them as your heart desires :)

Here if you have any questions!
xx