On paper, Rose Shafiq's life could easily inspire envy in most girls her age—and for good reason. She seemingly had it all: Pureblood lineage from a distinguished family, beauty, intelligence, and undeniable popularity. A flawless existence, wouldn't you say? But only on paper...
Like any sixteen-year-old girl, the sixth-year Slytherin contended with heartbreaks and romantic disappointments. Yet, beyond that, she also bore the weight of her doubts and fears regarding the future. The wizarding world was teetering on the brink of war—or, at the very least, was preparing to plunge into it. Her family had chosen to align itself with a cause that filled her with both dread and repulsion, one she would eventually have to embrace—or else betray her heritage. All summer long, the specter of this dark wizard had loomed over her household—mentioned by her parents, their friends, and even her peers.
At sixteen, one ought to be dreaming of love, freedom, and frivolity, not being coerced into fighting for a megalomaniac bent on death and destruction. Now, don't mistake Rose Shafiq for a saint. She harbored disdain for Mudbloods, Muggles, and half-bloods, and never missed an opportunity to ridicule them. But it's one thing to look down on someone—it's another to wish them dead.
Rose stretched her long legs before gracefully sitting up in bed. The first few days back after the start of the school year were always the hardest. Waking up so early felt like torture, and the shrill, nasal voice of Narcissa Black was an unbearable assault on her ears, especially in the morning.
"For heaven's sake, Cissy, stop yelling," Rose sighed as she painfully dragged herself out of bed.
The beautiful blonde cast a haughty glance at Rose. "I had forgotten how unpleasant you are in the morning, Shafiq. Evidently, summer did nothing to improve your trollish disposition."
Rose rolled her eyes but didn't bother responding. She and Narcissa Black weren't particularly fond of each other. It was an unspoken rivalry, a silent battle for the title of Slytherin's princess. And yet, Narcissa, by virtue of her membership in the august House of Black, had a considerable head start.
Rose dragged herself to the shared bathroom reserved for Slytherin girls. The black marble floors and stone walls gave the room a somber and cold appearance, in keeping with the rest of the serpent's lair.
The youngest member of the Shafiq clan took one last look at herself in the bathroom mirror before heading to join the rest of her house in the Great Hall. Rose never wore makeup—there was no need for it, nature having been particularly generous with her. The tall, statuesque Slytherin had an oval-shaped face framed by a thick mane of black hair, which she left loose most of the time. Her golden complexion made her large green eyes sparkle with mischievousness.
Once ready, the young girl hurried out of the dormitory, crossing the cold, damp dungeons and climbing a narrow, dark staircase that led directly to the castle's entrance through a small hidden door.
The Great Hall was bustling with activity as most students were finishing their breakfasts. Rose scanned the Slytherin table and silently made her way toward Daisy Parkinson, ignoring the many students who stared and scrutinized her like an attraction.
"You're almost on time. That's a miracle," Daisy remarked, a round-faced, slightly chubby redhead, as she poured herself some pumpkin juice without offering any to Rose. Shafiq was not known for having much of an appetite, and Parkinson was well aware of the eating disorders her friend masked so carefully behind a perfect exterior.
Rose glanced around. Narcissa was seated next to her cousin, Regulus, who seemed particularly uninterested in the younger girl's chatter. Charlotte Nott and Elizabeth Flint, Narcissa's eternal sidekicks, were hanging on her every word, all the while trying to catch Regulus's eye.
Regulus was undoubtedly one of the most sought-after boys in Slytherin, if not all of Hogwarts. Beyond the fact that the youngest Black was wealthy and came from an illustrious family, the boy was also strikingly handsome. Cold and distant by nature, he possessed a nobility and charisma that only a select few—perhaps his brother Sirius and Evan Rosier—seemed to share.
"You know, I had the misfortune—if you can even call it that—of spending a considerable amount of time with Blondie over the summer," Daisy sighed, clearly noticing the look Rose shot in Narcissa's direction.
"How so?" Shafiq asked, surprised.
"My brother got quite close to Rabastan, so I spent a lot of time at the Lestrange manor. And since most of the Blacks were there too, I had to put up with Cissy and her lunatic sister Bellatrix," Rose listened quietly to Daisy's explanation. She didn't need to ask why Victorian had gotten so close to the Lestrange family. The thought of the timid seventh-year boy becoming a killer sent a chill down her spine.
"Regulus was there too. He asked about you often," Daisy remarked, watching her friend's reaction intently.
Rose fixed her feline gaze on her friend's wide eyes. "You must be joking," she exclaimed.
"Absolutely not. And if you ask me, you'd be a fool not to get closer to him. He seems to fancy you quite a bit," Rose's attention instinctively shifted, as it often did, toward the Gryffindor table. It took her no more than a second to spot him, and he seemed even more breathtaking than the year before—magnificent, magnetic, passionate, impetuous. Everything about Sirius Black drew her in. She admired him for standing up to his family, envied his natural gift for magic and his courage. Where Regulus was all ice, Sirius was fire.
"Unfortunately, it's not the right Black," Rose murmured softly, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.
"You know it's impossible. Not just because he's persona non grata with your family, but because you embody everything he despises," Daisy stated bluntly.
Rose knew Daisy was right. She knew it was an impossible, even unnatural, match. And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about him. He represented everything she was supposed to hate, but as was often the case in her life, there was a vast chasm between what she should do and what she truly desired.
"You should seriously consider the Regulus option. Plenty of girls would kill to be in your position," Daisy's gaze was fixed on Regulus.
"Like you? Daisy, just look at him. He's cold, distant, arrogant, constantly flaunting his superiority," Daisy raised her eyebrows at her friend's tirade.
Daisy had known Rose all her life. She knew Rose could be a downright bitch—snobbish, unpleasant—but for several months now, something had been off, and Daisy couldn't quite put her finger on it. Rose's attraction to Sirius Black, while understandable, was veering dangerously close to obsession. There was something about the traitor that fascinated her.
"Shafiq, just yesterday you hexed a fifth-year Hufflepuff because she didn't move out of your way," Daisy sighed in exasperation. "And you think Sirius Black, the traitor, embodies humility?"
Touché. Rose hated it when Daisy was right, which happened all too often, given the Slytherin's uncanny perceptiveness.
"No, but he's different. He's alive, enthusiastic, passionate—nothing like his brother," Rose stopped abruptly, realizing her words were unbecoming of a Pureblood.
"Well then, there's always Rosier. He's handsome, incredibly sexy, arrogant, impulsive, temperamental, passionate, and—above all—completely immoral," Daisy paused, a mocking smile spreading across her face. "I forgot, you've already had Evan—or should I say, he's had you."
Shafiq shot her friend a frosty smile. She had indeed given in to the advances of the seventh-year playboy just before leaving Hogwarts. It had happened at a party in the Slytherin common room shortly after Slytherin's victory over Gryffindor in the last Quidditch match of the year. Rose had drunk far too much that night. Evan had shamelessly flirted with her, and they had kissed. Despite a detour to the Astronomy Tower, nothing more had happened, contrary to the rumor that had quickly spread through the school's halls. Rose suspected Evan himself had started it.
"And doesn't it strike you as odd that Regulus is interested in me, given that he and Evan are practically cousins and he probably thinks, like everyone else, that I've slept with him?" Rose asked, rising from the bench and adjusting her robes.
"Any other girl would have been socially destroyed, Shafiq. But not you. On the contrary, it's only solidified your reputation as an ice queen and a seductress. And let me tell you, it's infuriated Narcissa, who's been bringing up that incident all summer," Daisy said, quickly downing her juice and hurrying to catch up with the statuesque brunette.
"You have to admit, it's twisted," Rose murmured, glancing in Regulus's direction.
"Regulus is twisted, Evan is cruel, and this is probably just a cockfight between them. Besides, scoring you would be a trophy for both of them," Daisy threw her arms up as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—a notion Rose seriously doubted.
The two girls made their way toward Charms class, with Rose so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice another Slytherin, leaning against the wall just outside the Great Hall.
"Shafiq, it's a pleasure to see you again, though I would have preferred you come and greet me personally." Rose spun on her heels, finding herself face to face with Evan Rosier, whose intense gaze seemed to pierce her. Part of her wanted to burst out laughing, while the other had to admit that the young man was undeniably attractive, perhaps even more so than the year before.
"Hello, Rosier. Did you have a good summer?" Rose's voice dripped with icy sarcasm.
Evan Rosier... To say she wasn't attracted to him would be a lie. Everything about him seemed sinful, every inch of him exuded passion. His blonde hair had grown longer, and his angelic face only thinly veiled the perverse and cunning mind beneath. His features had grown more chiseled over the summer. But what fascinated Rose most about the seventh-year Slytherin were his deep blue eyes—eyes in which it was all too easy to get lost. Unlike Sirius, however, Evan could be cruel and ruthless. He loved to watch others suffer, to see them grovel at his feet. She had heard whispers that he had become a Death Eater over the summer, and it didn't surprise her. He must have relished risking his life and taunting the Aurors. Everything was a game to him—a game of manipulation. Rosier never did things halfway, and he would rather die than lose.
"I expected to hear from you," Evan had stepped closer, his voice now a low murmur. "The summer would have been shorter if I could have seen you."
Rose didn't need to see his face to picture the seductive, venomous smile that must be playing on his lips.
"That saddens me greatly, Rosier," Rose spoke his last name with as much disdain as possible.
"Oh, Rose, your indifference wounds me," Evan placed a hand over his heart. Behind him, Rabastan Lestrange observed the scene with little interest, all too familiar with his friend's flirtatious antics. Lestrange, like most Slytherins from prominent families, was arrogant. Rose feared him more than most. He was cold, ruthlessly intelligent, and indifferent to everything and everyone. Tall, with tanned skin and a strong, masculine jawline, Lestrange was a man—a dangerously powerful one at that.
"You'll get over it, Rosier. I'm sure someone else will soon occupy your free time," Rose grabbed Daisy's arm and turned to leave, just as she noticed Regulus, who had been watching the entire scene.
His grey eyes were fixed on her, and though his impassive face betrayed nothing, Rose quickly realized she had unwittingly placed herself at the center of a rivalry far beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
