THE LOVE WITCH * GW

Chapter Twelve.

Rosemary grew increasingly frustrated through the next few days.

It seemed whenever she found a moment to tell Professor Snape of her suspicions, was the same time the suspicious 'Mad-Eye Moody' would find a way to intercept.

He had been in Snape's office when she had knocked. He had stopped her in the corridor for being out two minutes past curfew. He had held her in detentions for as long as he could. Anything, to prevent her from spilling his secret.

This only made Rosemary sure of what she already suspected to be true. Alastar Moody was indeed not Alastar Moody. And she needed to tell anyone before she exploded.

The same day her frustration began to eat her from the inside out, was the same day two wizarding schools had arrived for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

They had been ushered out of the castle and told to stand presentable before the arriving schools. And after winged-horses pulling carriages brought the students of Beauxbatons, dressed in pale blue robes and following a lady larger than Rosemary had ever seen—- and after a large ship rose through the Black Lake, disembarking students clad in heavy capes with fur, following the former death eater himself, headmaster of Durmstrang, the Hogwarts students were rounded back into the great hall.

It took many minutes, as Viktor Krum had been among the students to exit the ship. The mass hoping for autographs or to shake his hand. Rosemary could hardly contain the roll of her eyes, just hoping to sit for dinner soon.

Shoved by a group behind her, and careful to not join the herd now surrounding Krum, Rosemary grunted—- "unbelievable."

"Unbelievable indeed," a student with heavy French accent has sounded beside her.

Turning to look at who had returned her sentiment, Rosemary had found herself facing a tanned boy with blonde hair, almost a head taller than she. His brows were heightened almost to his hairline in amusement, allowing his freckled nose to be on full display. "Antoine Legrande," he introduced.

"Rosemary Malfoy," she pleasantly added.

"Ahhh, well Miss Malfoy. An honor to meet you," he grasps her hand gently in his own, planting a kind kiss on the back of it, before returning it to her side. "And you go to this Hogwarts?"

"It would seem so," she muses. "And I assume you are visiting from Beauxbatons."

"A correct assumption to make."

"Well then, Mr. Legrande. It is an honor to meet you too."

He smiled brightly at her, flashing a blinding white. His teeth were perfect. He was perfect. Way too perfect. "I— I'm sorry to ask. But... but are you a Veela?"

Antoine laughs heartily at her question, almost clutching his stomach. "Yes, well, only about a quarter. On my mother's side."

"That makes sense," she says, mostly to herself, but the boy continues his grinning.

"It is your undeniable attraction to me then?"

"Aren't you thick-headed?" She aims in faux annoyance. "Could I not just be extremely intuitive?"

"I suppose so. But I was just hoping you returned my sentiments."

"Your senti—-" Rosemary's voice dropped dead in her throat. He had just called her undeniably attractive. Something that at any other time would've made her gag, but now formed a bright red glow on her face.

Blaming it on nothing but him being a Veela, she rolled her eyes playfully, and pushed past him towards the great hall.

He continues his laughter in return, following shortly after her.

By time she reached her seat, the crimson pattern continued to dance across her cheeks, and she hid her embarrassment with nothing but the palms of her hands.

Draco had already pulled Krum to the seat closest him, and was chatting away—- Graham and Miles too were chiming in with their own quidditch opinions. Once Rosemary had sat, Angel had immediately pressed her about her flustered behavior, only to be ignored as Antoine Legrande took a spot down the bench from her and sent her his own wink. Something that might be scandalous. But she hadn't cared.

"Who is that," Angel gushes, finally catching sight of what had her friend so distracted.

Snapped from her gaze, Rosemary shook it off. "Antoine Legrande," she answers passively. "That is all I know."

"You mean all you know besides him being completely fit!" She exclaims.

"Please, he is a Veela."

"Don't care!" Angel gawked. "He is sending you heart eyes right now!"

"I'm sure he is."

"Honestly!" The girl cried out at Rosemary's passiveness. "All this time you have been waiting for a perfect knight in shining armor to fall out of the sky, and when he does—-"

"I don't even know him," Rosemary cuts off. "And you want me to assume that this is my so called knight."

"Well you won't know him! Not as long as you keep being so annoyingly abrasive to every advance," Angel sighs, tiredly.

"Fine," Rosemary concurs. "I will get to know him. But if he is not as good as you are making him seem to be, you shall never hear the end of it."

"Deal."

And she meets Antoine's eye again, his grin still wide as he takes her in. Politely, she returns her own hesitant smile.

For all the times she hoped for something like this to happen—- for a seemingly perfect man to appear out of no where. For him to be perfect and to offer every possibility, it seemed nothing like that.

She thought she would enjoy this moment more when it finally happened. But yet, she felt nothing. Not really.

Antoine Legrande should be everything she ever wished for. And he was not.