By mid-September, Rosemary had been on two dates. One with Adrian Pucey, a fellow Slytherin in her year, and though not part of the Sacred 28, still considered pure enough by her father.
They had promenaded around the Black Lake, and ate bakery items on a picnic blanket, and it was such an incredibly dull experience that Rosemary could not help but rush away when he attempted to approach her in the common room the following day.
The second was with Marcus Flint, and though he was in the year above her, she had always considered them to be well acquainted. Yet, she had not known his awful habit for boasting about his quidditch skills, and his previous prefect standing, and his families money— which Rosemary found quite ridiculous considering her family was considerably wealthier than his. And yet he promised a large estate for his future wife to reside on... lots of room for children, as he so graciously put it.
The whole thing was so upsetting to Rosemary that once Cassius Warrington had caught wind of the horrible excuse of a date, he had practically dragged Draco with him to hex the boy into oblivion. Luckily Graham had put a stop to it before it escalated much further.
With her terrible luck, Rosemary couldn't help but turn down the next few suitors who attempted their own shot. She was feeling helpless that she shall ever find a man she should truly be happy with— sentiments she surely shared with one Angel Zabini during their common hour.
Sat in the courtyard, enjoying the end of summer breeze, Angel stared blissfully at the clouds while Rosemary prodded around an old book on ruins.
They spoke of suitors, and gifts they received, until finally— "if I should tell you something, should you promise not to utter a word. Not to a single soul?" Angel asks.
"Who should I have to tell? You are my closest friend after all. Your secrets are always safe with me," Rosemary replies.
Humming at this, Angel invokes her thoughts. Hesitant at first, she sighs—- "I believe myself to not wish to be courted. Not as expected at least."
"Whatever do you mean? You have only dreamed of turning seventeen for this exact thing."
"I mean that..." intaking a sharp breath, she sits straight at once. "I am in love."
"In love?!" Rosemary remarks all too loudly, causing Angel to clamp a heavy hand over her mouth. Reeling back, she corrects herself, "sorry, sorry. I only am shocked, for I did not know you had such relations with another."
"I do, and it is not necessarily a good thing."
"Why-ever do you think that? Every girl should wish to find a love match."
"Because the boy I am in love with is— he is— well—" stuttering over her words, Rosemary has found that Angel has given up on explaining herself. Cheeks flushed and in a defensive stand, the brunette girl stops her confession.
Rosemary, now far more interested in the conversation than previously anticipated, leans forward— "he is what? Angel? You can tell me anything. Is he not wealthy perhaps? Maybe he has a terrible smile, or he cannot dance? Is he involved in scandal—"
"He is a muggle-born."
Silence.
Only the distant chatter of students walking about the hallway, the sound of owl's hooting from the trees, and the gentle breeze that brushed against their ears.
The Zabini's did not often involve themselves in matters such as blood status, often staying neutral on the topic— but still, Mrs. Zabini was much like Rosemary's mother, in that preconceived notions towards those who are not from wizarding families often clouded all other judgement.
Angel looks as though she is expecting a scolding from Rosemary, perhaps some unladylike remarks as well, but it does not come.
"Who is it? The boy who has so captured your heart?"
Still under the assumption that the worst is coming, Angel offers the answer to the question almost instantly, in hope it will soften the blow she believes is inevitable. "It is Jordan. Lee Jordan."
Only humming at this, Angel is quick to defend her declaration— "please! He is kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he is still incredibly humble despite it. He remembers all the little things about me: my favorite color, the scent of perfume I wear, my biggest fears. He had written to me everyday during the summer session. And when I received a letter, every damn letter, I could not help but smile. And—-"
"And you love him?" Rosemary finished for her.
"Yes!" Angel cries out desperately. "I love him so!"
"Then why should it not be a good thing?"
"I—um— what?"
"Why should it not be a good thing?" Rosemary questions again. "To be in love? Isn't it supposed to be beautiful?"
"Yes... but... I only thought you should be upset with me for such a confession," Angel admits, shyly.
Rosemary cannot help the grin that approaches her face, for she thought it to be silly that Angel could think that her friend had anything but her support in any situation. "My dear Angel," she coos. "There is no man on this green earth that shall ever be enough for you, that I am sure of. But if this is the boy that so makes you happy, and as long as I do not hear any words of him hurting you, I should only wish you the best."
"You mean it?" Angel is nearly in tears by this new revelation, for she hadn't expected someone like Rosemary to be so accepting— for someone like a Malfoy.
"Every single word of it," she promises. "For it is only you I care about. Not blood-status, nor wealth, nor anything— only you. And should this be what makes you happy, then you shall have my full support and my sworn secrecy."
"Oh, I love you!" Angel gushes, falling into her arms.
And as the best of friends embrace each other, Rosemary only hopes that she too finds herself feeling such a way toward another person.
YOU ARE READING
THE LOVE WITCH * GW
Fanfictionii. Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't...
