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THERE IS ALWAYS SOLACE IN BOOKS, even when life finds a way to uproot your peace.
Rosamaria is in the library, diligently working on the three-foot Charms essay that's due in a week. Granted, she doesn't need to work too hard seeing as though she is quite adept at Charms, but studying has always been able to put her mind at ease.
Her mind has been nothing but a whirlwind in the last few days. Although she has fully embraced her relationship with Tom, that doesn't quite silence all the nagging questions in her mind.
In those few days after taking her virginity, he has been nothing like the young man she had first met. It's as if the sheer confirmation of their destined fates has given him a split personality. With her, he has been kind, gentle, docile even. With others, he still holds that proud smirk and superior eyes.
She shakes her head- physically as if it'll get rid of the pestering thoughts- and dives back into her work until after a few minutes she finds a quiet and peaceful rhythm. Her peace, however, is quickly interrupted by the presence of a young witch she hasn't spoken to in two weeks.
"Rosamaria," Madelina says her name timidly, and she absolutely has every reason to. Rosamaria fancies herself a compassionate person, but there is a hidden layer of rage buried within her, especially when someone has so blatantly compared her to mud on shoes. Madelina is teetering back and forth on her heels, her manicured nails fussing the corners of her tie and she can't seem to make direct eye contact with the person she's called for. "Can I...well, can we talk?"
Rosamaria raises a dismissive eyebrow as she continues on writing. "I was wondering when you would show up."
"Well, I suppose I was afraid. See, I'm not a Gryffindor and I don't fancy myself brave. I was sure you'd be angry with me."
Rosamaria quietly puts down her work and turns to look up at the girl. She drags out the silence, quietly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and clasping her hands out in front of her. She takes a deep breath and looks at Madelina dead in the eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a telling scowl. "You have not seen me angry yet."
Her tone of voice is slicing, withering from a young woman who has been nothing but kind in the past. Her words are a warning to Madelina, a warning that the depths of her rage are far superior to anything she has ever seen. Rosamaria was raised with pride, with purpose, and taught through a noble upbringing to never accept anything less than what she deserves.
And she believes she deserves an apology.
Madelina gulps with a timid nod as she sits down across from her. "I'd like to explain myself and I feel like I need to apologize about what I said the other day."
