𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗷𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿, james potter

˗ˋ 02

CHAPTER TWO
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-: sixth year :-

── IN WHICH SHE MAKES
A DECISION

. . .

"How long until I can cut them off?"

The question would have been spoken rather loudly, considering the relatively empty downstairs floor of the Three Broomsticks. Except for the corner booth full of teenagers, ironically.

Rosie eyed the four around the table with a particular dislike. They were loud, the one that her aunt had named to be the half-way exiled Sirius Black had been flirting with her all evening (she didn't exactly mind it, considering just how good he was at it and what he looked like, it was just the principles of it), and they had ordered so much Butterbeer and Firewhiskey that they were almost out.

Granted it was last thing on a Saturday night and the new deliveries came in on Sunday, but again, the principles.

"They're.." Rosmerta sweeped to her side and picking up a glass from the group in front of her, taking a cloth and beginning to polish it. "One of them is of age at least. I think. I can't remember if Sirius's birthday was third of October or November. But as long as none of the other three don't order anything other than Butterbeer, then not for a little bit?"

"So you don't know whether one of them is of age or not? So you could very much be supplying underage wizards?" Rosie cocked an eyebrow. "And.. they all just took shots of Firewhiskey."

"Yeah, you can go cut them off." Rosmerta nodded, watching as they all placed the smaller glasses down on the wooden table again and began to call over for refills.

With a sigh, Rosie put down the glass and cloth she had been holding, finishing the contents of her own drink, twisting out from behind the wooden counter and leaving her notepad behind. Coming to a stop besides the table, before she could even open her mouth to say anything, an empty bottle was thrust in her face.

"Another round of.. what's this shit called? Right - Firewhiskey?" Sirius's voice was surprisingly clear, but rather loud and Rosie winced.

"Actually, I'm gonna have to cut you off." She informed them, watching as the overly-confident, dark haired boy began digging into his pockets and pulling out clunky gold coins. "No, I don't want more Galleons."

Sirius frowned, but before he could speak out against it the boy beside him, whose head had been lolled forward and chin touching his chest sat up. They all jumped out of their skin.

"Just let a guy have a broken heart, would you?" He exploded, before sitting back in his seat. An odd wave of sympathy rolled over Rosie, glancing over the other two - who she had learned to be called Remus and Peter - and seeing similar reactions.

"Still.. it's almost closing time and-" She was cut off as a hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her down into the seat besides Sirius.

"Rosie, have you ever been dumped?" The Black boy asked.

"No.. I usually do the dumping." Rosie replied.

"God you're not very good at this, are you?" Sirius rolled his eyes. "Quick, change your answer."

"What? Fine... yes I've been dumped." The girl looked incredibly confused.

"Good, then you would know how painful it is." Sirius continued, the element of annoyance disappearing from his tone. "James here was dumped by the love of his life this morning. We're out drinking in celebration."

"Celebration of what, exactly? If she was the love of his life then surely it isn't an occassion to celebrate." Whilst the annoyance had deserted Sirius, the confusion hadn't done the same for Rosie.

"Sweet, sweet Rosie- what's your last name?" Sirius reached over for an almost empty flagon of Butterbeer and downing what was left of it.

"Rosmerta? My aunt's Madam Rosmerta that's literally the first thing I said to you." The girl's hands flew out, pointing over to the woman at the bar. "Do you not see the resemblance? At all?"

"Your mum called you Rosie Rosmerta?" Just like before, it wasn't Sirius that spoke next, but James, who seemed to perk up from this. "And I thought my life sucked."

"I dont think these situations are that interchangeable."

"You'd be surprised at how many things are." Remus jumped in, flooding even the hint of an argument beginning before it could even spark. "If we cant get anymore firewhiskey, then can we at least get some water?"

"Help yourself." Rosie shrugged, directing her arm over from her Aunt to the other end of the bar. "There's a jug and glasses at the end of the bar. Oh - and it's not for spitting in, don't spit in it."

"What?" Peter asked. "Why would anyone spit in it?"

"You would be surprised." Rosie murmured, turning to look at the remaining two boys once Remus and Peter had stood up. "Hey, take Sirius with you, I'll watch Mr Broken-Heart."

"Right." Remus nodded, tugging Sirius up by the material of his leather jacket and dragged him and Peter towards where Rosie had pointed to.

Leaving a somewhat tipsy Rosie Rosmerta and one rather drunk - more incredibly squiffy than anything - James Potter.

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