"You love me, Harry."
"No i don't, Rose. Fuck off."
Rose Black, the daughter of the famous Sirius Black. The only thing she was ever known as. But what she didn't know, is that in just four years, she would be so much more than that. Voldemort and t...
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"This game is rigged." ————
EVEN WITHOUT Divination, Hermione was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears. Almost everynight Rose would sneak into the Gryffindor common room to make sure she was okay and try and help her, even if Hermione would say shes stable, Rose didn't believe it.
Ron had taken over the responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes and with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.
———
Rose was now in the Gryffindor common with Ron, Hermione and Harry.
She was laying upside down on the couch, her legs hanging over the side while she threw a ball up into the air, just to catch it, and throw it up again, while listening to everyone freak over the upcoming Quidditch match.
"You're going to be fine, Harry." Hermione told him, though she looked positively terrified.
"You've got a firebolt!" said Ron.
Rose sighed, "Oh my lord." crossing her legs over the top of the couch. "We get it he has a Firebolt, we don't have to be reminded of that fact every second of every day. Im sure literally nobody cares anymore."
They all stared at her.
"Thank you!" Hermione stated. "Finally someone said it!"
Harry sighed.
———
Rose fell asleep that night in her own dormitory, not very soundly.
She kept tossing and turning, starting to breath heavy. Gripping the sheets, she shot up in her bed, breathing even heavier than she did before, and her heart feeling like its trying to break out of her rib cage.
She swallowed thickly, looking around the dormitory. Thankfully everyone else was sound asleep, not bothered at all.
She had had a dream about a certain bald, noseless man. Dreamed that he was back, in a small graveyard, And gathering his followers once again, Draco's father was there, Crabbe's father, Goyles father, and her "parents."
