what's your poison?

“Good for you then.” It was hard to tell whether Walden was genuine. He couldn’t care less whether she actually liked her job or not. “Just say snobbish purebloods. It’s fine.” Walden scrunched up his nose in playful disdain. Walden might be a pureblood and an enabler of their supremacy just by being allied with the Death Eaters, but for many reasons, he also wasn’t one of them. Without the Averys, Walden lacked strong family ties. Not to mention the money nor the desire to continue the MacNair legacy, whatever that fucking meant.

“Ah. Of course. And how are the Fawleys nowadays?” Rosmerta already explained to him her relationship with them once upon a time. Walden just wanted to see if it would rile the woman up. “It is fucking huge. But that’s not what makes a party now, does it?” His definition of a party included free-flowing drinks, the occasional brawl here and there, and of course, countless of possible hook-ups. All of which seemed to be a little lacking in the masquerade. “Champagne is nothing,” Walden whined. “I might as well be drinking water.”  He reached out for his inner pocket and brought out his handy flask. “Thank Merlin, I brought this.” As if he didn’t bring it with him everywhere.

She let out a laugh. “Fine. Not the place for snobbish purebloods.” Which had been the appeal, years ago, when she had graduated Hogwarts and found herself lost. Her parents would hate the sandy floors and the clashing of dishes and the much too loud conversations. Rosmerta found solace in it. At Walden’s question, she rolled her eyes slightly. He knew how they hardly spoke any more, and yet he was pushing on those sore spots anyway. Either he was inconsiderate or just plain mean. “You’re probably better off asking them. I’m sure my mother would love to have a little catch up with you.” She snorted. “She hated my dress.”

Rosmerta worked in customer service, and she led a team that seemed happy to follow her lead and her directions.  Because she knew that about her cousin she felt sure that she wouldn’t actually take Harper up on her offer, despite the tension she felt.  Rosmerta honestly was great, but she was still her cousin, and the fact that they were family meant it was Harper’s birthright to put her into uncomfortable situations.  “I promise I’ll be a delightful customer.  I’ll even buy your drink if you’d like.”

She took another drink, thinking though the flavor of the drink.  “It’s complex, which makes it good, I think.  You sort of have to dig for what you’re exactly tasting, but I really like it.”  She put the glass down and leaned back, the corners of her lips twitching up into a faint smile.  “Did you hear that my parents are trying to set me up again?  This one… well, he’s more interesting than that last.  It might stick this go around.”

She shook her head at Harper’s words, waving away her offer. “No, no, don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Rosmerta didn’t want to feel like she owed her cousin anything. “I can afford to drink a bit of my own product every now and then.” She took a demonstrative sip, then placed her drink back on the table. She had a feeling that Harper was quite aware what kind of impact her presence had on Rosmerta, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Still, she gave the other a smile. Talking about alcohol, now that was something she was quite well-versed at. “I know, right? And it’s from a small business, which is always neat as well.” Rosmerta grimaced as Harper spoke of betrothals. Even if she had liked men in a romantic way, she would never want a life like that. “Ugh. I don’t know why you put up with it, in all truth. Where’s the fun in ... denying yourself a chance to, I don’t know, fall in love?” Not that she had had a lot of luck with that, but still. “Is he a looker, at least?”

It had taken him years to get to this point. To get to the point where he could be seen with a man in public and talk about being gay and not feel ashamed. It wasn’t others he had been worried about. Not his family at least. He knew on some level that they would be accepting, but something kept him from saying something all those years. Any time he’d open his mouth to say the words, they’d die out. “It’s how it should be,” he said with a laugh.

Gideon rolled his eyes playfully at her, but then became a bit more serious. “Oh, come on, Ros. I’m not used to this. I’m not the relationship type y’know?” He took another sip of his drink. “I’m used to getting drunk and going home with people and then never sleeping with them again, not waking up in the same bed every morning and making pancakes with him and his son.” He paused. It sounded like he was complaining. Which he definitely wasn’t. He was just not used to all that came with a relationship just yet. “But I don’t think I’d call him sugarbear in a million fucking years, talk about vomit.”

It’s how it should be. Rosmerta clenched her jaws for a moment, trying not to slip into anger. This wasn’t the place nor time to reflect on the mistreatment she’d dealt with at the hands of her parents, but it was hard to, with them present and conversations like these. “Not everything is as it should be, though,” she said vaguely, looking over her shoulder. They should have accepted her, loved her, regardless of it all. Rosmerta hated how tense she felt. “Fuckin’ hate this place.”

“and open,” effie announced to no one in particular as she pointed her wand at the small sign in her shops window, causing it to spin from closed to open. “much better,” she commented, before moving through her store. her three weeks absence didn’t seem to have much of an affect on her store, which she chose to look a in a positive light- though she was sad to have missed out on the sales. what mattered was that she’d managed to return in time to thwart an attempted purchase. and left with nothing more than a little tidying up, she couldn’t have been in a better mood as she moved into the alley. “visit the inner eye!” she called out, “for all your divination needs!” she continued, raising her voice in order to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the morning commute, “we’ve got candles, crystals, incense-” she trailed off, having caught sight of a pedestrian without a mission, a wide smile appearing on her face as she rushed towards them. “you there! you look like you could use a new candle! we have plenty of fun scents, why don’t you come smell a few?”

A deep sigh escaped her as she looked at Rosmerta. “That would be so bloody nice, wouldn’t it?” she said. “Helping people, but not having to fight them. Just being there and helping if they need it. It would be nice to do some good in the world.” Ros, out of all the people she knew, would understand the fear of getting too involved; of getting hurt in a battle. Marlowe already had so many people who she had to worry about in the war; who were fighting on the front lines, trying to save them all. It was terrifying to know, but still, she envied them sometimes. She wished she could be that way.

Marlowe gave her friend a small push at her words. “No, you are a princess and would look like a princess in any dress,” she said, pointing at her. “But if it makes you feel any better, Alice practically picked out this dress. I wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise.” At the question of Sirius, Marlowe opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, as she didn’t know what to say. “Ah, isn’t that the question. Honestly, Ros? I have no idea. He showed up, thinking we were going together, but I can’t tell if it’s like in a lovey way or not, and now… I just… I don’t know, Ros. But I miss him. So bloody much. And it’s just… nice. Y’know? To be here with him again, and laugh at dumb people and their dumb dresses and suits together. Godric, I sound like a mad woman, don’t I?”

Rosmerta looked at Marlowe for a moment, quiet. There was plenty they could do to help people, and plenty they didn’t. At least with Lowe she didn’t feel the shame she tended to feel around Alice. “That would be brilliant, yeah. Never been the best fighter anyway, except with words, and I prefer helping anyway.” There was guilt eating away at her, and she didn’t like it. She was here to have fun, and her family’s presence was doing enough to make that hard. Rosmerta smiled, but it was dismissive, that of an escapist. “Let’s talk about this some other time, yeah? When I’m hammered. Or when we’re not at a party.”

She let out a laugh. “Eugh, I don’t want to be royalty. That life’s not for me at all. But thank you, thank you,” she said, giving Marlowe a grin. “Well, Alice has great taste, that much is clear. I did manage to dress myself, but then, I have great taste too.” Rosmerta listened to Marlowe, trying to not crease her eyebrow in a frown. She thought the two of them made a good pair, but hated seeing her friend end up hurt more than anything. “You don’t sound like a madwoman, first of all.” Rosmerta sounded strict as she said it, but there was nothing but love in her voice. “You sound a bit messy, though. Well, both of you do. Why don’t you just have fun tonight, yeah? And figure it out tomorrow. Have a good chat, see where you both stand. And if you need me to yell at him, ya know, I’ve got a grating voice and plenty of time!” 

“I love that,” Mary said, a smile on her face. “Sometimes I feel we’re a little too boxed into the ideas of real magic and things that Muggles might describe as being magical not really being so. Or even as you say there are things that Muggles wouldn’t say is magical because it’s just science but most people could never dream of getting it to work so it might as well be magic! Just like a rainbow can be magical or snow or even just the stars on a very clear night and anybody could see those.” As she started thinking of things, she became more enthusiastic to the idea. In many ways her upbringing could have meant for her seeing less magic in the world, without the novelty that most muggleborns felt on experiencing the magical world for the first time and without the obliviousness of purebloods to scientific workings. And yet, she had always looked for silver linings and little pieces of everyday magic, she had just not really thought of them as magic until this moment.

“If it’s daft, I must be as well. It’s a shame some people think that way, though.” There was a bitterness that often seemed to accompany hatred in Mary’s experience. Prejudice came from a world where negativity ruled. “Okay, I’ll go for that one then,” she said, decisively. “Perhaps he’s not the most graceful but I think Kenna will like him. I hope. I suppose all I can do is wait and see.”

“Maybe science is just magic,” she mused. “I mean, spells and potions all have scientific explanations, I’m sure – not that I get them, but I know there must be – and it’s still called magic. So why shouldn’t muggle technology be labeled the same?” Rosmerta thought plenty of muggle things their own magical things. From the way airplanes worked to how records – flat dark discs – were able to become music. She liked that such things were inexplicable, or at least, hard for her to understand. It allowed her to approach them as magic, and fuck it, the world could use some extra magic these days. She would drown if she stopped looking at it with rose-colored glasses every now and then. “But you’re right. We’re much too boxed in when it comes to these things.” She, too. Her family hadn’t been deeply purist, but they had ingrained Rosmerta with the idea that magic made them superior over muggles. Something she’d distanced herself from a long time ago, but still: such prejudices were hard to unlearn.

“Neither did I,” Andromeda laughed, “I either had way too much or not nearly enough - Ted’s mum was and still remains my savior.” Without the elder Mrs. Tonks or the cadre of women who stepped up and reached out - she wasn’t sure she’d have survived that first year, let alone ten. Sometimes her heart swelled with so much gratitude and love she’d though she would burst - but, as she learned, there was always room for more.

“Of course!” As this bit of magic was only tangentially related to her work at the Department of Mysteries - she’d only used a Ministry reference book, the original directions she’d found on her own in a muggle rare & used bookstore of all places - there was no reason she couldn’t share. “I’ll owl you the instructions, the potion’s a bit of a bitch to make but well worth it - although I did manage to stain my thumb blue for two months.” The unspeakable laughed again - one of her niece’s thought she’d been frostbitten.

“Tragically I cannot share, I am still with the Department of Mysteries,” Andromeda smiled somewhat apologetically, “and odds are it will turn out to be nothing really - but I’ll never know until further study.”

She’d just been about to respond, to promise to visit within the month - she thought they had a free weekend coming up soon - when Dora appeared at her side. The child now had three books, one of which was in a language Andromeda did not recognize. Dora looked from their mother to Rosmerta and then asked, “What’s quieter?”

“Oh, that’s great that you had her,” said Rosmerta, and she was smiling genuinely. She doubted that Andromeda’s own mother would’ve been much of a help, after all, with the way the other had separated from the family. It was sobering, to remember how families like the Black family worked: her own family might be far from ideal, but at least they were not like them. She wouldn’t call it a blessing, but it was something.

She grinned at that. “Cheers! I’ll give it a try. And hope that I don’t get a blue thumb, though maybe it’ll look good on me.” Rosmerta wasn’t sure if she had the time to brew a potion that might not even work, but she didn’t want to wave away Andromeda’s kind gesture. Besides, she had asked for it, and she liked the idea of trying some new magic well enough. 

“Oh, right. Bureaucracy!” The word was exclaimed a bit loudly and Rosmerta flushed guiltily. “I get it, don’t worry. Keep your work secrets to yourself, and I’ll keep mine.” Hers were mostly the fact that there were mice running around the place and a few hiding places for money, but she hardly minded that they were less exciting. Rosmerta had never wanted a Ministry career, despite her parents’ wishes.

At Nymphadora’s question, Rosmerta let out a laugh. “Quieter is boring,” she said, looking down at Andromeda’s kid. “If anyone ever tells you to be quieter, you tell them no.” Then, she remembered that their mother was present, and Ros quickly added: “Unless it’s your mother, of course.”

She let out a quiet laugh and bit back a comment of you’re always beautiful. It didn’t matter if her boots were covered in mud or if she looked a little like the day wasn’t going so well. It just made her more real. There were so many women who were always so put together, particularly in the Ministry. Shining heels and suits without a thread out of place, who seemed like nothing could faze them. And within that environment Emmeline always felt like she had to be the same. She was pretty good at it, actually, when she had to be but loosening up and being able to be a little wild was a lot more fun and Ros had always been good at getting her to do that. To not let work be quite so all-consuming.

“I’m great, yes! Well, you know. Work, war, stress.” Rosmerta didn’t know. That was the whole point, really, that Emmeline had never told her anything. But most people understood enough of the sentiment these days that they didn’t question her bringing it up. “Otherwise, I’m okay. Are you going to Slughorn’s this year?” The fact that it fell on Emmeline’s birthday was something she never explicitly brought up but most people knew anyway and she liked the fact that she didn’t have to organise her own birthday celebrations. The question this year was whether she would just go alone like she had the last couple of years or if, maybe, she would take a date but when that hadn’t been a thing she had really done in over two years — since breaking up with the woman in front of her — she wasn’t sure how to feel about that idea.

“Oh, don’t get me started on those three,” she said, head shaking, talking easily. Rosmerta preferred to look at the sunnier sides of life, especially in moments like these, and while the war hung over her life like a shadow – thought didn’t it for everyone? – she preferred to downplay it. Especially with Emmeline. Maybe, years ago, she would have indulged her in her fears and worries in regards to the war, her insecurities in regards to the Three Broomsticks. They had stopped being close in such a way quite some time ago, after all. Such things happened: Rosmerta tried not to be bitter about it. She usually succeeded, but as Emm stood before her, it was growing a little harder. “Don’t forget to get yourself some rest, hm?”

who: @aliceinaurorlxnd​ & @rosmerrta​ where: alice’s home. when: november 5, 1982.

After days of self-loathing and burying herself in liquor, Marlowe had shaken herself out of her blue haze to realize that her friends were probably starting to get worried about her. Luckily, she’d been able to get to work, even if she was ignoring almost everyone and trying to keep her head down at her desk. Maybe it was for the best that people left her alone. The only person she’d wanted to see immediately was Gideon, anyways, and even now she felt as though she might explode from the loneliness. Marlowe had always been a people person, but her heart felt worse this time. This goodbye felt final. This goodbye felt like forever. 

That’s why she needed her best friends. How did she move on when she’d seen so clearly a future with someone who would seemingly would never grow up and see one with her? As she grabbed the bottle of vodka from her shelf, she slid on her favorite slippers and apparated to Ros’, knocking almost instantly and leaning against the side of the wall. When Ros opened the door, Marlowe grinned and held up her bottle. “Girls night?” she asked, wiggling the bottle so that the liquid inside washed back and forth like waves. “I’m asking but also not. Please and thank you.”

Free nights were rare for Rosmerta. Even when she was off, having handed the reigns to one of her employees, the inn moved, breathed, lived. It was a living thing, and she was its caretaker: to look away always felt rather strange, especially these days. Still, she needed moments off, and she took them consciously, most often by spending time with friends. Rare moments of solitude happened, too, of course, and she used those for record-listening, wallowing in her more negative emotions and trying to cook for no one but herself, for once.

She’d planned to spend the night alone, but when Marlowe came knocking she opened the door regardless. Wide grin on her lips, she gave the other a quick hug. “What a surprise!” A good one, she thought at first, but then she took in her friend properly. Something was up. Rosmerta chose not to address it yet. “Of course. Let’s go to Alice’s, though, my place is a bloody mess.” She opened the door a little further and turned back into her apartment, in search of a jumper, socks, maybe a bottle of wine or whiskey, too. When she’d gathered her things and pulled on her cloak and shoes, she took Marlowe’s hand. “I’ll lead, yeah?” After a beat, she apparated the pair of them to Alice’s place, and she tapped on the door with the bottom of a bottle. “It’s Lowe and Ros!”

who: lily and ros. where: diagon alley. when: november 2, 1982.

These days, it seemed as though her mind was always elsewhere.

Since the loss of Harry, Lily hadn’t really been able to keep her thoughts in one place. They jumped around, from island to island, trying to find somewhere to land. And, still, they never did. At least working with Damocles had helped her feel a bit more grounded. It gave her a task to do; something to hold onto in the midst of a storm. As she walked out of her old work place, holding a few ingredients for one of Damocles’ newest potion ideas, she found herself drawn in by the idea of a pot pie at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Of course, she wasn’t paying enough attention, and sat down in a seat at the bar before quickly realizing that she had taken the seat from someone else. “Oh, blimey,” Lily said, quickly hopping up off the stool. “I’m just completely out of it, aren’t I?” As she spoke, Lily saw another stool open up next to the person. “Mind if I…?”

Rosmerta liked the way the roles were reversed whenever she visited the Leaky Cauldron. To sit at the bar, rather than stand behind it, and not worry about customers. Nights off were rare and precious, and she preferred spending them away from Hogsmeade, like here. She’d just gone to the bathroom and came back when she saw someone in her seat.

Lily Potter. Shit.

She came across plenty of people whose lives had been hurt by the war, but there weren’t many Rosmerta knew who had gone through losing a child. In all selfish truth, it made her uncomfortable to even be around her, but Rosmerta knew how to hide such things. “You’re all good,” she said, sliding back into her seat. “C’mon, sit, please.” She gave the other a reassuring smile. “You’ll be much better company than whoever was sitting there first. Didn’t say a word, not even when I asked him politely what he thought about the weather!” 

“Good business on your part,” He said easily. After all, giving away all things for free always seemed like a terrible business idea on paper. Still he didn’t press, one because he was hardly a business man and two he wasn’t particularly trying to not get a free drink. 

Ash gave a half smile at the other’s reaction to the joke. “Luckily I don’t often go to the forest anyway. I’m not sure on their senses of humor, but it’s pretty harmless as far as jokes go so hopefully they wouldn’t mind.” 

He laughed and said, “Fair enough. If I could have another ale please I think I’d be pretty happy about it. Unless there’s something that you like to make that you haven’t in awhile.” 

“What can I say, I am a right business sleuth,” said Rosmerta, winking at the other. Her words sounded sincere and confident, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not they were. Sometimes her confident seemed like a farce, other days as something so very solid and logical 

“Oh, me either. Sometimes I get a bit carried away when hiking, though, and I’ll catch a glimpse of them,” she started. “But I know enough ‘bout them that they’re never keen on jokes made at their expense. Even if they’re good.”

Rosmerta grinned. “An ale it is, then,” she said, getting ready to pour him another one. “Beer’s always good, isn’t it?”

From his pocket, Bertram brought out his lucky golden snitch and began to play with it, tossing it and the air and catching it before it lands on his face. He was no Seeker, but it meant a lot to him in a lot of ways. That’s why he always held it close. “I had to. You know tha right? There’s no chance of me surviving in the industry otherwise.”

“I know it’s a classic, but…” Bertram tilted his head in her direction and looked at her expectantly, almost playfully pleadingly. “I’d also love a good ol’ beer after a performance.” Now that the show was over, a cold of bottle beer sounded really nice. He could afford one himself, no problem. But it was a lot more fun to ask Rosmerta to give a free one.

He looked at her weirdly as she winked. “Who are you?” he asked jokingly. “The Rosmerta I knew would never call herself that. So what have you done with her?” Bertram laughed. “You’re paying me too many compliments, Fawley. Maybe you should cuss me again for old time’s sake.” 

Reminiscing the past, Bertram shifted his head to look at the ceiling. “Look at you too. Who knew you were gonna end up managing the Three Broomsticks.”

Rosmerta shrugged at those words. “I won’t pretend to know anything about the music business. Or business in general.” That last bit was a joke, and she winked. For a moment, she watched Bertram play with his snitch in amusement. A bit surprised, first, at his ball of choice, but she figured that bringing a Quaffle everywhere to play with would get a bit annoying.

She got up at his request, proving her hospitality with a grin. She wasn’t trying to kiss up to him, or anything, as she didn’t feel like she needed to. She’d known him too long for that, hell, she had antagonised him too long for that. Besides, it was her job. “One sec.” And with that, she was gone, off to the bar to pour him a pint. She returned shortly, placing the glass in front of him. “There ya go.” 

Rosmerta let out a short laugh. “Fucking hell, complaining about me being nice, are ya?” She shook her head, sipping her beer. “On the pitch, you’re my mortal enemy still, you know this. You succeeding in music however, does not threaten me or my position in any way, so I feel secure supporting you.” Then she let her smile drop, but it was all play. “You fucking arse.” 

“Oh. Of course.” Walden sounded defensive before switching gears and acting as if it was her fault for thinking that he meant to insult the inn. “The Three Broomsticks is a staple for every English wizard.” And anyone else who went to Hogwarts, really. How a relative landed to manage the entire inn, Walden still couldn’t fathom. At least she’s not like his other family. Although, Walden will admit that he can’t imagine his high-brow family to want having something to do with the local inn. “I just meant that compared to this,” Walden looked around. “Well, you don’t really see people wearing gowns, suits, and dress robes in The Three Broomsticks now, do you?”

“Ahh. So you get invites to these kinds of parties. Good for you.” Walden added with a little bit of jealousy in his voice. Despite his own proficiency in Potions, Walden wasn’t able to penetrate Slughorn’s inner circle. He long assumed that it had something to do with his parents. Apparently, it extended to Professor Slughorn’s brother, Prospero. “I gotta say. For someone who’s here for the first time, I’m not impressed. Are you?” Walden shrugged. “Eh. It’s alright. I won’t even call the alcohol good. It’s just fancy.” It’s not like he can get shitfaced with what they’re offering. “I just wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

Oh. Rosmerta let out a laugh, which was directed at herself. “Sorry, too defensive. I’m just proud of the place, is all.” Proud and doubtful, but such weaknesses didn’t need to be addressed – not mentally, nor vocally. Somewhere, she knew she was doing a good job at running the inn. A part of her endlessly wondered though, if that was just luck, coincidence, and whether it would slowly fall apart soon. “You’re right, you’re right. Not the scene for black tie optional.”

If Emmeline were to list her exes in likelihood to be there tonight, Rosmerta probably would have been near the bottom despite the fact that it was the sort of thing she might have gone to in the past. After all, the last time Emm, Ros and Ros’ parents were in the same room, dinner had ended poorly to say the least and Emm had actually caught sight of Mr Fawley before she had picked out his daughter within the crowd. Still, this year was about it being open to everybody and an attempt to find peace. Emm was sceptical how well that would work but it was a nice idea and she was glad, at least, that it seemed to be enough to stop Rosmerta from avoiding the party just because of her parents.

It was the most natural thing in the world to return the hug, a smile on her face despite herself. It would always be difficult, how Emmeline’s guilt had torn apart the deepest relationship she’d ever had but in the same way, she would always have a soft spot for Ros. “Thank you.” She took Ros’ hand and turned to lead her to the dance floor. “How’s your evening going?” There was another elephant in the room besides the Fawleys, of course, that Emm wasn’t sure should be addressed or not but she was more than happy to let Rosmerta lead the conversation and decide for herself if she wanted to ask about the Freya situation.

She had been rather surprised to see Emmeline and Freya together. Not because the two didn’t make sense together, but because it was a rather strange thing, to see two people you'd once slept with together. Emm was an ex, and Freya –– well, Freya was something along those lines, too. Rosmerta wasn't sure what to call her, because they had never officially started nor ended anything. Regardless, it had been a surprise; and part of her could just focus on the fact that they looked really damn good together. Emmeline and she might have broken up, but that didn't mean that Ros wasn't able to appreciate that she was beautiful.

“Oh definitely,” Melaina agreed. “If you’re trying to make someone jealous tonight, I think it will work. Not that I think you would need to do that but if Slughorn was the type to award a prize for best dressed couple it would certainly be us.” Her words clarified her position perfectly, that this wasn’t anything romantic for Melaina but rather to have eyes on her. “It doesn’t necessarily mean big dresses. I think you could get away with that dress if it was white tie perfectly well. All it would take is some gloves and styling your hair a little differently.” Perhaps the fact that she was saying that whilst still wearing the gloves that went with her dress despite it no longer being white tie was a little odd. She hoped she could pass it off as finishing off the outfit and not that she was taking no chances on the charms covering her Dark Mark fading.

People watching perhaps wouldn’t have been her first choice. She had been brought up to be seen but not so much to watch. After all, it would be no good if a young Melaina had gone running her mouth about the things she had seen her father get up to. If she was at the sidelines of an event, she was quietly colouring. Otherwise, she would be in the middle of it all, being her father’s pretty prize to show off. “That sounds lovely,” she said, even so. She wanted to have a good time with Rosmerta and given everything that had happened to make her father stay at home for the evening, staying on the edges and taking some time, to start, to see who else had turned up did sound nice. She led the way through the room, automatically going towards where there were drinks being served without having to think about it, where she took a glass of champagne for herself and stepped to the side to let Ros pick her own drink. “That table looks like it has a pretty good view of the dancefloor? I suppose that’s what we would want if we’re doing people watching.”

“Oh, that kind of price would be ours, no doubt,” said Rosmerta, smiling widely. “And I wasn’t planning on making anyone jealous. Just want to have some fun, y’know?” Still, the idea that some of her former flings or girlfriends might look at her longingly was a fun thought, she had to admit it. Rosmerta was in no mood to properly play at any such games, just wanting a night of release. To think about her disastrous, and in all truth nonexistent, lovelife would just be depressing. “That’s very true. I also don’t like the gloves, though.” And then, quickly, she added, “On me. They look good on you; I just get sweaty hands.” Rosmerta scrunched her nose, amused at how starkly different and yet well-matched they looked; she in her dark purple, Melaina in her soft pink. Then, teasingly, she asked, “What’s wrong with my hair now then?”

Rosmerta also picked a glass of champagne. It was far from her drink of choice, but it fit with the mood of the evening, she supposed. Besides, she liked the bubbles well enough. “Yes, let’s go sit there,” she said, following Melaina’s gaze before making her way over there. This was, in all truth, all a bit overwhelming. Rosmerta wasn’t sure if it was in a good or bad way, but naturally chose to focus on the idea that it was good. She took the lead as they walked towards it, and sank down as gracefully as she could. Ros had never been good at being fluid and filled with grace, but for Melaina she supposed she could at least try. “So, you are the fashion expert, especially when it comes to these kinds of things. What d’you think of ... oh, there, Mundungus Fletcher?”

Gideon laughed. He had known Rosmerta was gay for quite a while, but this was one of the first times he was considering himself in these conversations. Gideon had thought about telling Ros all those years. There were nights when the silence lingered on for too long or he stumbled over talking about sleeping with someone. He wondered if she knew all along. “I know there are gay people in high pureblood society,” he said, putting on a bit of an effected accent for the last part. “But I’d bet that this year is the gayest ball yet. I’m sure the old ladies are clutching their pearls.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Rosmerta’s reaction. He wasn’t used to being the romantic. He was used to sleeping around and dating casually and never having this conversation with people. “We don’t have cheesy nicknames, but I don’t exactly make any promises about the other thing.” He finished off his drink and picked up another glass. He scanned the room and found Amos deep in conversation with some others. “It’s nice to be out with him like this. I mean, we’ve been living together and I’ve been helping take care of Cedric, but somehow this makes it feel real you know?”

Rosmerta was glad to have friends with whom she could be so open. After the sheer disapproval of her parents, she knew not everyone approved of her sexuality. That didn’t push her to feeling shame, though, just endless anger and ache that she tried to force away. There were people that loved and accepted her, like Gideon. That her parents didn’t fall into that category was something she should have moved past by now, she found. “Oh, there absolutely are. Some of them are more accepting ‘bout it than others, though,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It absolutely is, yeah. I think my mother might faint sometime soon from the sheer gayness.” 

Gideon gave a big dramatic eye roll and took another sip of his drink. “Guess that’s how it’s going isn’t it?” he asked with a smile. “You were friends when you were kids and now we’re all gay.” He nodded. “I think that’s the point of these things. Just by having a date, you’re practically socially forced into an engagement. That’s how the good ol’ Pureblood way works doesn’t it?”

Gideon shook his head as he took another drink. “Oh, him? He’s just someone I found to be my fake date for the night so my mum can stop bugging me.” He took another sip of his drink and paused for a moment. “I’ve moved into his place and that’s been real nice. Marlowe loves Amos so she’s been over the moon about it. Fabian’s a little more… well, he’s just mad I told him last I think.” He took another drink. “As gross as it is, Ros. I’m stupidly in love. I wouldn’t blame you if you vomited right in front of me.”

Rosmerta let out a laugh. “The gay agenda has succeeded!” At his other words, her smile faltered somewhat and she shrugged. “I mean, yes, but my parents would have never let me marry a girl,” she said, glancing around the room to see if she could spot them. “Too traditional for that.” She looked at Gideon, and smirked a little. “That’s another good thing ‘bout showing up with Mels, I think. I get to spite them.”