boys wanna be her

@saviloquus​ 

It was starting to become hard to focus when his mind was constantly being filled with ideas of how fucking attractive everyone around him was. It felt like being a teenager again only on goddamn steroids or something. He’d tried everything he could think of and nothing was helping it. He was getting close to telling the owner he had to go and just leaving when a familiar face walked in the doors. 

Once upon a time, Rose Parkinson had been a face that would fill him with relief. She wasn’t like his brother who took every chance he could to shove Zach down–sometimes literally. No, she’d stood between the two of them. He’d always appreciated that. He’d appreciated her as little as he sometimes wanted to admit it. But things had changed. They had changed. They’d both gotten swept up in their jobs.

Until suddenly one day he saw her face on the front of The Daily Prophet and his heart and sunk into his feet. He’d let himself believe the best in her–something he so rarely did with anyone. He had actually thought she was good. And there she was, defending Death Eaters on their way to Azkaban. And not just one or two–one or two he could write off as her taking money she couldn’t turn down from cases doomed from the start–no, there were several. And then her brother. Zach was neither surprised he was a Death Eater nor at any of the charges against him. He was however surprised to see his sister defending him after she spent so many years fighting against him at Hogwarts.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was the last thing he needed right now, especially with whatever the hell was going on. Everyone knew Rose Parkinson was gorgeous, she always had been. And in his younger years, he’d had a crush on her almost as bad as Ted’s on Andromeda now. God, why couldn’t she have just chosen any other bar tonight? “What do you want? I’ve had a really shit night, just tell me what you want to drink.”

Rose remembered Zach fondly, not necessarily because of their friendship but because of how much it had pissed off her brother and her parents. Her only goal in life when she was younger was to make sure that Nico and his pea-sized brain were thwarted at every turn. One of Rose’s favorite ways to do that was to get in the way of whichever sad creature Nico had decided to take his aggression out on; and more often than not, the times she succeeded were with Zach. 

Balance of probability—Zach had been one of Nico’s favorite victims. 

For a while, Rose had avoided Zach. There was something about seeing him that brought up a vague feeling of guilt, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was doing something wrong. Rose wasn’t heartless after all. Even if she had used her relationship with Zach as a means to an end, that didn’t mean she didn’t also enjoy the quiet evenings that followed an afternoon of aggravating her brother. Zach was one of the few people who heard her voice in those days. 

But now she was different, he was different, and they had grown apart. She stepped into the role she had been carving out for herself for the better part of a decade—as soon as she was old enough to start scheming a way to get out from behind Nico’s shadow and her parents’ resentment, she formulated a plan. She hadn’t planned for things like people and friendships getting in the way of the plan she had so carefully followed to the letter, and she didn’t let them. That didn’t mean that her decisions didn’t still weigh on her sometimes. 

It was especially apparent at times like these, her regrets. She was too tired and fried to continue working; and a strange laziness had taken over her body, slowed her brain down. She only got half the work she normally completed in a day done. When she was behind on anything, Rose was always the kind of person to stay late and get it done, but she had been feeling lackadaisical all afternoon. As soon as her supervisor left, she snuck away as well, unable to stand staring at her case files anymore. She needed a drink—and even though she saw Zach through the window, she still went in. She couldn’t be fucked to find somewhere else. It was a slip-up in her careful avoidance of the people she left behind. 

“Whiskey,” she replied. “Straight.” Rose felt a slight smirk curve at her lips. Now this was something she could find some energy for. “Nice to see you, too, Zachary.” 

Well, that’s your mistake, isn’t it? 

Greg tried to get out of the Ministry as quick as possible so he could tell Albus what was happening inside– the splinching took a toll on him and he ended up in the middle of nowhere with no clue how to get back home with most of his abdomen missing. By then, it was too late and the losses were already made. He didn’t know how the Order would recover, but he knew they’d have to. “I’m not in the mood for some bar hopping party right now.” Greg mumbled under his breath as he swirled what was left of his whiskey around his glass. “We lost Carrow. How is no one talking about that?”

Rose shook her head. “No one said you have to be,” she replied simply, pouring herself a glass and lifting it to her crimson lips to take a swig. She shrugged once. “Carrow was a reckless idiot,” she replied. There was not much love between Rose and most people—she was selective in her affection that way. “How close are you to needing me to peel you off the floor of this pub?” she asked, raising her glass to her lips again and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s to say I haven’t already? Got a bit boring,” she spoke with a shrug, making herself comfortable in the chair she had taken. Her shoulders remained straight even in her relaxed position, a habit from years under her mother that couldn’t be broken. That, along with the surplus of other unwelcomed gifts from Alaina Carrow, were larely responsible for why she never took Rose’s personality to heart. It was actually welcomed, in a way; dismissal and anger, the true forms Alecto took to most. Even in her friendships. 

Alecto raised an eyebrow, a bemused smirk of her own gracing her features as she took the box and a spare few mints. “True or not, reckon I’ll claim the title to myself; I’m likely the prettiest, anyway.” She chimed, popping a mint into her mouth while she shut the box and handed it back. The agony and grief were unparalleled to anything she had ever felt, but denial was easier than accepting the truth. Amycus was gone, and she was likely going to wish for the same once she finally let the reminder and pain back in – but she didn’t want to. Most emotions were uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but she had always enjoyed it that way.

Despite her persistence to ignore the obvious for as long as possible, the Ministry and all it had endured was strictly on her personal ‘off limits’ list. Even with her curiosities at how Rose had fared – it was obvious enough, immaculate as always. “Workin’ anything interesting?” 

"I can only imagine." Perhaps Rose should have been able to relate with Alecto a little more, with her brother currently rotting in Azkaban, but there was no love lost there. She had never been close to Nico—not even a little bit—and that had certainly been to her advantage when it came to currying her parents’ favor, and she wasn’t going to pass that up. Nico could go straight to hell for all Rose could care, and she wasn’t going to pretend like she care just so that Alecto might not feel alone. 

That was the point of this all, wasn’t it? They were all alone and they were going to have to deal with it. The sooner they could all get accustomed to the fact, the better it would be. Rose had always been better on her own and she was happy to stay that way. She kept her power that way. She was studying Alecto carefully, wondering if her loneliness would break her or make her stronger—Rose was hoping for the latter, in all honesty. Alecto was fun to be around and she would certainly grow more ruthless in the aftermath of what happened at the Ministry. Rose couldn’t wait. 

“I wish,” she replied. “Everything is boring on my front. I can feel my brain atrophying.” 

Bold of you to assume I’ve ever been broken.

He prided himself on his open mind, but he couldn’t help how his opinion of her changed with just those three words. But that was irrelevant, as Sirius was working, after all, so he simply smiled at her again. “Any excuse for a drink is good enough for me.” He answered instead, doing as she asked - or rather, demanded. Sirius paused only slightly before pouring her more, sliding the glass back when he was done, just a touch harder than he had the first time. “But if we were commiserating, well - I might have been tempted to dip into my… personal stores.” He licked his lips, shrugging casually. “No worries.”

Rose drank back that one as well before just setting the empty glass back down on the bar and letting out a heavy sigh. She was fully prepared to get drunk until she made a bad decision—until she could find someone in this bar who was the least repulsive to take home. “Perhaps we are commiserating,” she said, drawing a carefully manicured finger around the edge of the glass. Rose was the kind of person who liked everything a specific way and when that didn’t happen, she tended to have a bit of a hard time adjusting her plans. She certainly wasn’t flexible—at least, not in that way—and whenever she did have to make time to change, she always despised it. 

Her eye narrowed a little as Rose tucked her hair behind her ear. It was almost condescending, and had she been anyone else Bellatrix would have certainly had a thing or two to say, most likely in the form of one spell or another. But the woman was a Parkinson, a family of almost as much notoriety as the Blacks. Moreover, Rose’s position at the Ministry meant she was more useful as an ally than anything else, and so Bellatrix held her tongue with a practiced ease that came from a lifetime of dealing with all sorts of people at high society events. “Please,” she answered with a quiet chuckle to her voice. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Rose had enjoyed quite an amount of privilege because of her name, and she wasn’t afraid to take advantage of it. She had never been intimidated by Bellatrix, nor was she going to start now—in fact, she found it rather fun to get the other woman annoyed, and she tried to do it as often as possible. She pressed her lips together into a knowing smile. “You were never good at self-control, were you?” she asked, her eyebrow raising just a little before she shrugged a shoulder. “Not that it’s any of my business.” 

Lucius made a face as Rose cast a spell and fixed his nose. She didn’t have to get so damn close to cast the spell. Or at least he didn’t think so. Maybe so, that type of magic certainly wasn’t for him. He reached up to dab away the blood and ran his fingers along the bridge of his nose to ensure it had been healed correctly. Had she crookened his nose, he would be infuriated. “I suppose that’s something,” he said, distaste clinging to his words. “I can’t believed they dare attack at all. We shouldn’t stand for such a thing.” He sighed and shook his head. “The point is, the rest of us were fighting and the Dark Lord shouldn’t need to go into battle without the full support of his army behind him.” He wanted to keep his place in favor with the Dark Lord and if scorning those who had put forth less than he had, it was exactly what he would do.

Rose shrugged once. “It was a matter of time.” She knew that they could only push so hard until they got a push back—and they had been prepared for it. She had, at least, and there was something to be said about that. She pressed her lips together for a moment, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. As much as she agreed with Lucius on many things, she wasn’t so openly vocalizing those thoughts these days. She wasn’t the kind of person who would be so clear about the way she felt about this war, even if it was fairly obvious who she supported. She adjusted the sleeve of her robes, her fingers running over the mark on her forearm that sent a slight chill up her spine. It was a good feeling—the feeling that she was doing something that mattered. “Do you think he’s incapable of taking care of himself?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You could say that. Great night though. Well worth it.” That could be the title of her autobiography – Rough day, great night. It was essentially the center of her world because it was the best part of it. No matter what else was going on, partying was always there to turn to. It was something to do and it was the one thing that connected her to…99% of the people in her life. Without it, who would she even be? It was destructive, unhealthy, and likely a coping mechanism; but she was completely fine with all of that. When Maya was out, she was having fun. All the bad things that came along made it worth it.

Knowing that Rose cared about her appearance (at least more than Maya did), she made a genuine effort to sit up a bit straighter. It felt labour-intensive, but anything that was not something that resulted in instant gratification often did. Her nose crinkling as she listened to Rose speak, she shook her head before drinking more of her coffee. “I have no idea how you do it. Honest.” It seemed so difficult, time-consuming… boring. She was happy for her though – even if she didn’t understand it, it was what Rose wanted.

“I wish this place had cauldron cakes. Those would be so good right now.” Two things that she was known for – a wandering mind and cravings when hungover. It varied a lot, but cauldron cakes were one of the more frequent items. Fingernails drumming gently against the cup, trying to minimize the noise she was making, her head tilted to the side. “Work okay otherwise though?”

“Sounds about right for you.” Rose was used to Maya’s antics at this point, and in fact, she found them endearing. She found Maya incredibly endearing—Rose had always been the one to talk the two of them out of any trouble, and despite Rose’s generally manipulative nature, she never threw Maya under the bus (even if it was entirely her fault.) Rose wasn’t the kind of person who would do that to one of the few people she allowed into her life. It was difficult to gain a place in Rose’s heart, but once you did, you were there for life. 

She changed the way her legs were crossed, adjusting her posture just slightly to make sure that her back was ramrod straight. When she was younger, any time she slouched, her mother would make sure to physically roll her shoulders back with an admonition: slouching is for ugly people. That was why Rose was so concerned with her appearance—it didn’t take a psychiatrist to figure that out. “I apparently have a very high pain tolerance,” she replied, a crooked smirk curving at the corner of her lips. 

Rose rolled her eyes. “The beauty of being amongst the commoners is missing those things—and understanding why we are better. It renews your appreciation.” Rose didn’t even try to hide the way she hated muggles. It was ingrained. “I can’t complain,” Rose replied. “Other than the idiots I work with, but that’s nothing new.” 

Being no stranger to touch, Astrid had no qualms about her approach to anyone at the bar. She was the one to set up the scene. It was always on her terms and if anyone tried to go further, she was able to break them in two seconds flat. Her ability to kick ass without a wand was something she was forever proud of. But feeling the skin under her fingertips and her wandering gaze before her, Astrid went limp.

Rose. The one and only person to crack through her walls in a loving way. She hated to admit it but Astrid was putty in Rose’s hands. She had been from the very beginning. There was something about her that made Astrid’s mind swirl with colors. Understanding it was something Astrid could never do. Rose was …Rose.

No. Rose was fucking lucky to have had a piece of Astrid. A real piece.

She got more than her snarky self or her oozing sensuality others couldn’t resist. No, Rose shouldn’t have taken Astrid for granted. It both angered and saddened Astrid but she would be damned if she let it show.

“Look at you looking at me. Can’t say I blame you, Rose. There always was something about me, wasn’t there?” Astrid’s eyes rested on her ex’s. How she wished Rose would let her see her reflection there. “Why buy my own drink when someone else would be ready and willing? I’ve always been one to appreciate the generosity of strangers.”

Astrid leaned an elbow on the bar, twisting her hair between her fingers. “What about it? Get me a drink tonight? For old time’s sake?” She’d be lying if she hoped it would turn into a night.

Rose knew exactly the game Astrid was playing and she couldn’t help but miss it—just a little bit. Rose had been incredibly lonely when she was at Hogwarts. She had never really acknowledged that until she had grown up and had gained her parents’ and her peers’ approval. When she was in Hogwarts, she was always the strange, quiet sister to her much more popular twin, and she tried not to let that get to her—but obviously, she’s human, so it did. 

Astrid had looked past that, however, and had understood that Rose was more than just her brother, more than just her family, more than just the walls she had put up to stay on her own to make sure that she would shield her heart. Rose didn’t know if she had done the right thing, breaking up with Astrid. She wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing in any of this—but it was too late to take it back, so she was going to double down and move forward. It was the only thing left to do. 

Besides, she had worked too hard and too long for her position to give it up for something silly as a teen romance. She wasn’t going to pretend like she was entirely invested in the idea of falling in love. Marriage in pureblood families was arranged on terms of convenience and strategy. It was like politics; more than that, it was like monarchy. She was going to end up marrying whoever would add the most to the Parkinson name. 

Or maybe she wouldn’t get married at all; she’d be fine with that. 

“Something desperate, perhaps,” Rose replied smoothly, taking a sip of the amber liquid in her glass, feeling a warmth spread through her chest and down into her stomach. She paused for a moment, knowing that she should refuse Astrid, but she didn’t. She gestured to the bartender with two sickles between her fingers before telling him to get whatever she wants while gesturing towards Astrid. 

It was a mistake—but Rose was a little drunk, and she was allowed to make mistakes sometimes. 

Lucius stared at Rose. All she did was scorn him and look at her in disgust. It was infuriating. All of this was infuriating. Those filthy blooded Order members thought they could just attack the Ministry. Then he was injured ridiculously. And now Rose was just staring at him, offering her no help whatsoever. He rolled his eyes, glaring back. “Right. Oh so very helpful advice,” he snapped back. He wasn’t about to admit that he needed help. No, that would be below him. He touched his nose carefully. If he tried to do a healing spell himself, he would risk doing damage to his face and that was absolutely unacceptable. Not to mention he could botch the spell and draw only more mockery fro, Rose. It wasn’t worth the risk. “Care to explain how you made it out unharmed?”

Rose rolled her eyes and withdrew her wand easily, putting a hand up to Lucius’ shoulder to make him stop in his place. “Hold still, “she said, bringing the wand up so that the tip of it was mere centimeters away from Lucius’ nose before flicking it and incanting episkey, effectively healing the injury to his face. “I was at the Wizengamot. None of them were quite clever enough to make it there,” she said simply, tucking her wand back into her robes as she undid the tie around her throat, loosening her strict attorney’s attire to reveal the sharp suit she was wearing underneath. “Besides, I knew that fight would be over soon. What’s the point in getting my hands dirty?” She knew that the Dark Lord was keen on keeping his hold on the Ministry. He wouldn’t let something like this slip through his fingers.