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THE WINTER HOLIDAY HAS PASSED WITH THE SPEED OF A ZOUWUS.
Rosamaria has spent almost every day in the company of Tom and their Slytherin friends. The judgment and hostility she had been expecting have been pleasantly- and surprisingly- absent. She's not sure if it has to do with whatever secret intimidation Tom must be doling out to everyone who might potentially insult her, or if the elitist purebloods are truly starting to enjoy her company, but it doesn't matter.
Ever since the incident with Marigold a few days ago, she can feel the eyes on her regarding her differently than they had been before. Of course, the lust-filled looks from men far older than socially acceptable are still present, so are the badly veiled looks of jealousy from the elderly matriarchs, but everyone else has been different.
Since she won the honor for the Parkison family during the Champion's Game, she's been regarded with nothing but impressed stares and genuine smiles. She's become almost like some exotic flower for them to smell, observe, count the petals, and although it gets on Tom's nerves, she hates to admit that she enjoys it. It's a feeling that's familiar to her- being adored, being admired, being feared- and it indulges that selfish, vain part of her that craves the elegance and prestige she used to hold.
She likes being treated like the nobility she is and, the best part is, she had to prove herself to get it.
However, her newfound status amongst the wedding-goers has not swayed Marigold Parkison, instead, it's made the vile woman's hostility increase. Rosamaria had hoped to be one of those women helping Madelina prepare for her wedding. She had hoped that she could be present in the bridal suite, gushing over the bride, complimenting the dress, indulging her best friend in all her wedding-day whims, but no. The sad reality is that Rosamaria has been delegated to being just one of the many, not one of the women who's grown to love Madelina, not the one woman Madelina considers a genuine, heartfelt friend.
Rosamaria is only slightly bitter as she watches the wedding unfold. She and Tom are sitting in the front row, the seating is surely given because of his status amongst the pureblood and not hers. The wedding is gorgeous and everything Madelina deserves. Her dress is perfect- Parisian made- and glitters with the Swarovski crystals encrusted in the tight bodice and loose sleeves.
Swarovski, apparently, loves doing favors for fellow Slytherins.
She's surprised that the ceremony is so similar to that of muggles with the vows and the exchanging of rings, but there is something uniquely magical about it that no muggle will ever get the experience.
It's that beautiful moment when the silvery wisps of magic encircle the new married couple's bound hands, their magic melding and swirling together, their first kiss sealing a bond that will be cemented for eternity.
