Draco waited at the entrance hall, nervous. Meeting Rose had changed his plans, though he was unsure of how he'd stop what he'd already set in motion nearly two months ago. At the time it seemed like following the Dark Lord, killing the Headmaster, it was the only path that was open to him. Then, he met Rose, and when his Godfather supported his interest in her, saying that he'd do whatever needed to keep Draco safe, well, he was beginning to see a different path.
It hadn't stopped him from his contingency plans, though his time spent with Rose had slowed his progress on the cabinet. Today, though, he had two missions. First was to retrieve the cursed necklace he'd extorted out of Borgin, something only he could do since Rosemerta was still under his Imperious. Second, he needed to enjoy himself with Rose, whom he was slowly thinking might be the woman for him. Sure, his father would be upset that she wasn't a pureblood, but since Draco would practically have to leave Britain once he angered the Dark Lord, preferably before the Dark Lord discovered his failure, to survive his failure to kill the Headmaster, a relationship with Rose in her home country wasn't out of the question.
He knew that running away wasn't the bravest thing to do, but there was a reason he was a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor. Ambition, cunning, tradition, those were the traits of a Slytherin. He had the ambition to love the girl he wanted, not the girl his parents, or the Dark Lord, decided he should. He had the cunning to prolong the revelation of his failure until after he was safe from the Dark Lord. He had the tradition … well, his aunt had run off with a muggleborn so, in a way, that was traditional.
Just then he was jolted out of him musing by the sound of people descending the stairs into the entrance hall, and Draco turned to look. While all of the sixth year girls around her were beautiful, a veritable spectrum of color from the dark skinned and raven haired Patil, through the bushy brunette locks of Hermione, to the fair skinned and golden haired Brown. His eyes, through, were drawn to his Lady in Red, Rose Evans, who looked positively radiant, and not to mention prepared for the chill outside, in her crimson layers.
Before Draco could say anything, though, the ginger weasel escorting Lavender spoke.
"Rose, you're going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy?" cried the youngest male Weasely.
"Ron," spoke Hermione through gritted teeth. "Let it go. She's her own witch, and if she wants to go to Hogsmeade with Draco, then she's free to do so."
"But Hermione …" the weasel began to whinge, when his complaints were silenced by the blonde next to him planting a kiss on his lips.
"Won-Won, be quiet. Let your friend be with who she wants. Plus, you're escorting my to Hogsmeade today, so I better be the only girl you think about until we return," she said once her lips were free to talk.
Ron blushed, her face nearly matching the color of his hair, and then nodded dumbly.
"You're looking very handsome today Draco," said Rose as she stepped up next to him.
"Thank you Rose, and I must say, you are looking positively radiant yourself," said Draco, giving her a one-armed sideways hug about her shoulders.
"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing towards the massive doors.
"We better be careful," cautioned Draco, "Filch is scanning everybody as their leaving."
"Wouldn't it make sense to scan them when they return?" asked Hermione.
"You'd think, but then, when as Filch ever made sense," joked Draco.
Rose was glad for the warming charms as she and Draco walked down the High Street of Hogsmeade, the snow making the cobbles just slippery enough that she had a tight grip on Draco's arm.
Draco, for what it's worth, didn't mind at all, and reveled in her presence.
"Rose, we're going to need to make a stop at the Three Broomsticks, it's the more popular of the two pubs in the village," said Draco.
"I'd heard about it," said Rose. "What for?"
"I just need to pick something up," he said. "I had planned to do something, and now my plans have changed, and so I've got to pick an item up from there before Rosemerta decides to send it on it's way, according to plan of course."
"Ah," said Rose. She thought for a moment, "Something for Pansy?"
Draco paused for a moment, "Not exactly, more of a treasured antique I was planning to pass on, but now don't want to."
"Sounds complicated," said Rose through the scarf wrapped around her face. Only her eyes were exposed to the harsh winter air, unlike Draco, who hand't worn a hat, nor really more than his ermine fringed cloak over his robes and slightly thicker boots. Rose assumed that he either had better warming charms, perhaps something like a bubbleheaded charm, but for cold rather than water, or was stoically ignoring it.
"It is," admitted Draco. He then glanced at Rose and she caught a hint of a blush.
The pair started at Honeydukes, since their friendship was barely a month old and hadn't gotten nearly far enough to visit Madam Puddifoot's, and Zonko;s was boarded up, a casualty of Voldemort's renewed reign of terror.
Just as Rose got into the shop and unwrapped the scarf from her face, she was surprised with a booming voice from further inside the shop, "Ah, Ms. Evans … And Mr. Malfoy."
Rose turned, muttering something under her breath. Of all the differences she'd experienced between what it meant to be Harry and what it meant to be Rose, there were some commonalities. She still loved to fly, she was still friends with Hermione and Ron (though while the former was looking to strain following the discovery of the Half-Blood Prince's book, it was now the latter that was waning with Rose's friendship with Draco), and Professor Slughorn still hoped to recruit her for his Slug Club membership.
Slughorn was wearing an enormous fur-covered cap, and lined overcoat, and looked to have secured a large bag of crystalized pineapple. Rose also uncharitably estimated that he took up nearly a quarter of the open space in the shop.
"Mr. Evans, Rose, may I call you Rose? I was wondering why you've missed two of my suppers so far this year. You missed the first, of course, but that's because you weren't here," the portly potioneer pointedly professed. He also implied that Harry had missed the first as well, marking three missed suppers, the three that Slughorn had held so far this term. "It simply won't do. You're a gifted young up and comer, and one of the first from your home country to attend Hogwarts, so I'm simply determined to have you! Your friend Ms. Granger certainly loves them."
It was then that Rose realized that, had she remained as Harry, she'd likely be making this meeting with Hermione and Ron by her side, and at this point Hermione would have had to make some sort of diplomatically neutral description of the suppers. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your perspective, that was not the case. Instead, Rose kept silent, hoping that she'd be able to escape out into the harsh winter cold, where at least she'd be safe.
"So why haven't you come along?" asked Slughorn, now nearly upon Rose and Draco both.
"She's been studying with me," declared Draco.
"Ah, of course, Mr. Malfoy, or may I call you Draco?" asked Slughorn.
"Mr. Malfoy will suffice, Professor Slughorn, we wouldn't want you to be accused of impropriety, now would we?" Draco asked rhetorically.
"Mr. Malfoy it is," said Slughorn sheepishly. He knew just how powerful Draco's father was, how close the escaped convict was to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and this, how close Draco was by relation. "Perhaps I should invite you as well?"
"You could, but I have prior arrangements for every night between now and the end of term, what with studying with Rose or Quidditch practice," said Draco.
"Ah, well, I suppose not," said Slughorn, before returning his focus to Rose. "So, Rose…"
"I believe Draco had the right idea, I believe that, to keep our decorum, it would be best if you called me Ms. Evans," interrupted Rose.
"Ms. Evans then, I do have a supper this Monday night. Perhaps you could be convinced to come, bring Mr. Malfoy with you if he doesn't have practice, what with this deplorable weather we're having."
Rose smiled, a message before she left the common room this morning relating a perfect opportunity, "I'm sorry Professor, but the Headmaster requires my presence in his office this Monday night, though he'd not supplied me with information as to the contents of the meeting. I can only assume it'll occupy my entire evening, and thus preclude my participation in this week's supper."
"Until next time then," offered Slughorn. "You'll not be able to evade me forever." He then tipped his fur cap, "Ms. Evans." He then nodded to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy." And with that, he left the shop and disappeared in a gust a snow and the quickly closing door.
Rose sighed, "Thank you Draco, though without being on the team, and you being my excuse, I don't think I'll have as iron-clad an excuse anymore."
"I'm surprised he's trying so hard to add you to his stable of celebrities," said Draco, as they walked further into the warmth of the candy shop. "I mean, Hermione's perhaps the smartest witch of our year, if not at the school, and her inexperience with the magical world is perhaps the only limit on her future success."
"Well, if Voldemort wins, she'll likely have more than her inexperience holding her back, if she survives her NEWTs that is," said Rose with a sigh.
"It might not be a good idea to saw the Dark Lord's name aloud," warned Draco.
"I'm not afraid of him," said Rose curtly.
"I didn't say you should be afraid of the Dark Lord," said Draco. "You should be cautious. In the last war he put the taboo on his name, letting his agents find whomever spoke his name aloud. That's why people started using He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who. They'd rather be circumspect than dead."
"Oh," said Rose, surprised. "I had thought it was just fear, with the Headmaster saying, at least I heard it second hand, that we shouldn't be afraid to say his name."
"It's fine for the Headmaster to say it, for it's said that he's the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared during the last war. Potter might be close to joining the list, if he was more than a glory hound."
Rose decided not to question Draco's appraisal of her masculine self. "So I should call him the Dark Lord instead?"
"Usually those aligned with him, or at least aligned with those aligned with him, such as myself, use that moniker," explained Draco.
"How about Riddle?" asked Rose.
"Riddle?" asked Draco. "Why Riddle?"
"Before he was Volde … the Dark Lord, he was a student here at Hogwarts, Tom Marvolo Riddle," explained Rose.
"How do you know that?" asked Draco.
As their conversation had lead to darker topics, they'd found themselves in a mostly hidden aisle of the candy shop, near the back, and near the trap door to the tunnel back to Hogwarts.
"While I didn't hear it myself, having been home rather than here," said Rose, stretching the definition of "myself", "home", and "here". "I know that Harry Potter heard it from an apparition of the Dark Lord, or Riddle, himself."
"An Apparition?" asked Draco.
Rose explained the events of their second year, or rather her fight as Harry against Riddle's diary and the basilisk specifically, as if she'd received it second hand from Ron and Hermione. She finished by writing "Tom Marvolo Riddle" with the tip of her wand, and then re-arranging the letters to "I Am Lord Voldemort".
"So you see, he's not a Lord, he's not even a pureblood," explained Rose, using her knowledge from her first meeting with Dumbledoor two weeks before her transformation. "He's a half-blood, and barely that, since his mother was practically a squib, and his father a muggle."
"How do you know this?" asked Draco.
Rose blanched. How could she explain it without revealing her secret. "The Headmaster told Harry Potter, who then shared it with Ron and Hermione, his friends before they were mine. They told me after they told the story of Potter's fight with the basilisk. Or rather, after they told about the end of the Tri-Wizard, or should it be Tri-Wizard and Mono-Witch, Tournament and their escapade at the Department of Mysteries in June."
"They told you rather a lot," said Draco.
"They felt I needed to know," said Rose. "I mean, it's not like it's common knowledge in New Zealand how dangerous it had gotten here in Britain the last few years."
"So, the Dark Lord, or Riddle, is a half-blood, who hides behind a fake name," said Draco summarizing.
"He's still powerful, though," pointed out Rose. "He's the worst Dark Lord Britain's faced in ages, and likely the worst in the world since Grindlewald, if not worse."
"And he's using my family like a bog roll," added Draco.
Rose didn't know what to say.
"Come on, Rose, I need a butter beer," said Draco.
He pulled the auburn-haired transgendered witch out of Honeydukes and across to the Three Broomsticks. They brushed past the barman of the Hog's Head and Mundungus Fletcher, causing the latter to drop a suitcase full of illicit wares that Rose didn't have the agency, since Rose had never met him, and didn't own Grimmauld Place where the Black family silver 'Dung' had stolen came from. She did, though, make a mental note to bring it up with the Headmaster when they met on Monday night.
Rose sat at one of the many tables in the Three Broomsticks, freed shortly after their arrival by a group of fourth year Ravenclaws who'd decided to return to Hogwarts before the storm got worse. Draco had told Rose to stay while he got them butterbeers, as well retrieved the package he'd instructed Rosemerta, the publican, to pass on, before she passed it on.
"So, how's your date?" asked Katie Bell, walking over to Rose's otherwise empty table.
"Did the snake leave you in the cold?" asked Leanne, Katie's Badger friend in Rose's year.
"He's just getting some butter beers," said Rose. "And it's not a date. We're just friends, and he's showing me around the village."
"Sure he wouldn't like to show you something else?" asked Leanne.
"Leanne, let it go," said Katie harshly.
"Sorry Katie," said Leanne.
"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Rose, she's the one you're hurting with your innuendo."
Leanne turned to Rose, but before either could speak, Draco arrived with two warm frothy mugs of the barely alcoholic, nearly sickeningly sweet drink. "Rose, why don't you introduce me to your friends."
"Come now Malfoy, we've met plenty of times above the pitch," joked Katie.
"And we've shared classes for over five years," added Leanne.
"True," said Draco, tapping his chin. He then took a pull of his butter beer. "Katie Bell, oldest chaser on this years Gryffindor team, would have made captain if you didn't turn it down after seeing Johnson and Wood both struggle with their NEWTs their final year. Member of Potter's Defense training group last year, before it was broken up."
"No thanks to you," said Katie sourly.
"Let's put the past behind us," said Draco. He then turned to Leanne. "Hmm, Leanne Malone, sixth year Hufflepuff." He paused for a moment, "Friends with Katie Bell."
"I'm more than that!" said Leanne indignantly.
Draco, Katie, and Rose all laughed.
"Okay, top gobstoner in her cohort of Badgers, reserve chaser, one of the few in her house who didn't purchase my Support Diggory and Potter Stinks badges during the Tournament, either a startling display of disloyalty, or bravery, take your pick. Third in our year in herbology behind Longbottom and Granger, and one of only three who took NEWT-level History of Magic, not that you lasted more than a month."
"I was the last to drop it," she retorted.
"So you were," said Draco. "Last rat off the sinking ship."
"Draco, be nice," chided Rose.
Draco bowed slightly to Leanne, "I apologize, Ms. Malone, for my hurtful words."
"Rose, who is this, and what have you done with Malfoy?" asked Katie.
"I'm in a good mood," said Draco sourly.
The girls all giggled.
The four of them talked amicably for a few minutes, as Rose and Draco finished their pints. The four of them then ventured together up the slightly more treacherous path back to the castle, joking amongst themselves.
"What have you got in there?" asked Filch, as he scanned Draco with his Secrecy Sensor upon their return to the castle.
"He was retrieving something for me," said Professor Snape, appearing as if my magic behind the squib caretaker. He then snatched the wrapped package from out of Filch's hands. "I'll take that."
"So he was," said Filch, not believing the Professor's claims at all, but being unable to do anything about it.
"Thank you Mr. Filch," said Snape. "I believe that you've got another batch of frozen student to harass over there." He pointed to an unfortunate group of fifth year Hufflepuffs, gaining no praise from the almost universally victimized badgers.
"Thank you Professor," said Draco once Filch was out of earshot.
"Don't thank me, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape. He gestured to Rose with the wrapped package, "Thank the lovely witch you escorted, and then come with me."
Draco paled, but then turned to Rose, "Thank you Rose."
"No Draco, thank you," she said. "I had an enjoyable day." She then leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.
As Draco stood there in momentary shock the three girls, giggling, retreated to the Great Hall for a late lunch.
"If you would, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape demandingly. "We have much to talk about, and this is not the place to do so."
"Of course Professor," said Draco, gently touching his cheek.
"She didn't leave any mark, if that's what you're wondering," said Snape with a smirk. "At least, not a visible one."