sweet talk ↯ draco malfoy

SEVEN

SEVEN | to be a Death Eater

RUNNING HER HAND through her messy hair tiredly, Rosalie shoulders the large door to the Great Hall open. Her eyes squint at the light difference, surveying the room to realize it's nearly empty, minus a group of Slytherins sitting towards the end of the long table.

Rosalie suppresses a groan when she sees that the group of Slytherins left is Draco and what can be considered his fellow cult members. But when she sees one of them - the one who she believes is Marcus Flint, with big uneven buck teeth - dramatically wave her over, she doesn't try to hold the groan in.

"Rosalie Grimmett!" Flint says as she nears them, throwing herself into her seat with a huff.

"Flint," Rosalie greets monotonously before her eyes look over the rest of the group. She sees Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Goyle, Crabbe, Draco, and Flint, obviously.

"You look exhausted," Blaise points out, his voice not accusing like his fellow Slytherins.

"That's because I am, shocked?" Rose bites back, picking up a pick of toast and taking a small of it before looking back up at Flint. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"What's your story?" Flint asks without hesitation.

"What?" Rosalie eyes, furrowing her brows at the buck toothed boy.

"You know, you're story. Who you are, where you came from, why you left. The good stuff." Flint explains, taking a large bite from the toast in his hand.

Rosalie snorts, shaking her head. "And why would I want you to know anything about me?"

"Because we're friends," he says simply.

"Since when?"

"Since you were sorted into Slytherin," Flint smirks, titling his head to the side. "You don't seem to have any other friends here."

"Flint," Draco says, his low voice warning his friend to watch what his words.

Rosalie's eyes narrow at Flint, who is looking rather pleased with himself at the moment. "I moved here from Africa."

"Why? Did you get expelled?" Pansy pipes in, leaning forward on her elbows to look at Rosalie.

"No," Rosalie answers quickly. "Because of Voldemort."

"What does he have to do with this?" Flint asks, his eyes nervously shifting around the table.

"Because I want to become a Death Eater, obviously," Rosalie says monotonously. The look of shock appearing on all of the surrounding faces was enough to make Rosalie start laughing.

"It's not a joke," Blaise says, his face hard.

"Everything's a joke to me," Rosalie shrugs.

"That's hot," Flint points out, his foot slipping forward to touch one of Rosalie's.

Rosalie quickly pulls her feel back, blatantly glaring at the boy across from her. "And you're not."

The serious mood that seemed to circle around the group dispersed immediately, those within earshot bursting into cackles at the shocked expression painting Flint's face - Draco included.

"That was harsh," Flint asserts, an awkward chuckle tumbling from his lips.

"That's life, babe." Rosalie points out, rolling her eyes as she reaches forward and picks up a green apple from one of the dishes in the middle of the table.

Her eyes lock with Draco's as she brings the vibrant colored apple up to her lips, taking a bite into the apple. His eyes seemed to cloud over as they flickered back and forth from her eyes to her lips, his hand raising to run through his blonde locks. His other free hand, that was once occupied with silverware, was now clutching the end of his robes as he watched her tongue dart across her lip to catch the juice.

Rosalie's usual smirk is absent from her face as she watches the clouds glaze over Draco's mind during their staring contest. She watches the way his blue eyes become stormy, the way his hand clutches his robe, and the way his fingers get tangled in his hair.

And she wouldn't mind them getting tangled in hers.

"Rose?" A voice calling her name startled Rosalie out of her gaze, her eyes turning to see Flint watching her.

"Don't call me that," she answers quickly, her eyes narrowing at not only him, but the thoughts of Draco that have swirled through her mind.

"Why?" Flint questioned - something he seemed to a lot.

"Because only my friends get to call me that," Rosalie informs, running her fingers along the smooth skin of the apple.

"Not like you have any," Pansy mumbles but Rosalie ignores the comment, her eyes focused on Flint's face, who is trying to think of a decent comeback.

"Maybe we could be friends then," he says after a few moments of thought.

"I have standards," Rosalie rejects him shortly.

"I bet that I can meet them," Flint fires back.

"My standards aren't high at all - a brain being one of them. And you don't even seem to meet that requirement," Rosalie says, abruptly standing from her seat.

She turns to leave but a raspy voice catches her. "You seem to think you're entitled then," Draco says.

Rosalie pivots to face him, her eyes burning with angry tears. "If I'm entitled, then I don't want to know what you believe you are, Malfoy."

Rosalie turns, throwing her school bag over her shoulder as she storms down the isle towards the door to the Great Hall.

"Always have to have the last word, huh, Grimmett?" Draco calls loudly, gaining the attention of the entire room.

Rosalie reaches the door, pushing herself out them as quickly as she can. She turns, hands getting the sides of the doors tightly before she throws them shut as the angry tears begin leaking down her face.

The loud slam of the door resonates on each sides of it, making it clear to Draco that his words hadn't failed to upset the girl who seemed to intrigue him greatly.

And unusually, Draco didn't seem to get the pride he normally did when taunting someone. He, in fact, felt quite the opposite, regretting that he had got the last word in.

"Rosie's got one hell of a bloody temper," Flint jokes, pulling laughs from his group's throats.

"Don't you ever call her that," Draco seethes, pushing himself out of his seat and following the way Rosalie went, guilt oozing out of him.

•••

idk how i'm feeling about the cover. gimme some feedback

-M