"What's your problem, whore?" Pansy Parkinson scowled with a large smirk plastered on her face.
Rosalie Wilson, a new transfer student into Hogwarts, had felt so vulnerable and insecure after the death of her father; a Deatheater.
She clenched her...
I added Theo Nott to the cast in my AN because I'm going to use him as one of the main characters!!!
Also, this is how I picture Rosalie to look during the party scene.
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//Mature Content Ahead//
Rosalie;
During Transfiguration this morning, I had just found out by Finleigh that tonight was New Year's Eve. I had been so distracted by my truly depressing life, I hadn't realized the correct date. Evidently, the Slytherin common room decided to host a part in honour of the upcoming year. And once again, I debated with myself about wether or not I was going to attend, until I convinced myself to show up because I wouldn't be able to concentrate from the buzzing music coming from downstairs.
On top of that, if I know Draco as well as I think I do, I reckon he would find his own special way of finding me. No matter how far apart we are, he finds a way to me. I could run forever, search forever — but in the end, every path leads back to Draco. He is my own personal magnet — my addiction.
Falling for him was the easy part; it's admitting to myself the truth behind the fall that's tricky.
The thing is — you don't get to know. You don't wake up in the morning and decide your going to fall for a mysterious, cruel, vile, horrible — the list goes on. You can't choose your fate. It's something that can change happen — completely out of your control.
I take into consideration how his icy touch, is actually my warmth. How he goes out of his way to care for me when no one else is around. It's because when I see him, it feels as though space and time both become the finest points imaginable, collapsing all into one tiny speck that stops me from viewing the rest of the world.
Fate is the end of my story, but if I'm praying to Merlin, I'm going to pray for something powerful enough that pushes me to make good choices. If I end it now — it could be done, meaning I had chose my fate. But if it's done, I don't know how long I could go feeling dead again.
Draco feels like my breath. How on earth am I supposed to live without my breath? But he hurt me. Again.
The faint sounds of the bell dismissing us from potions begin just as I notice a few students gathering their belongings and heading for the door. Me — I gather myself before leaving.
The corridors suddenly become very quiet, forcing me to assume that our second class had already started. Just as I turn the corner, there he was — just standing there.
Not alone.
Astorias sister, Daphne, had her hands placed on his shoulders, blushing and giggling like a child as he whispers something against her ear. Dracos hand rest tightly on her waist.
