Someone said the you could give your life for the people you love. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived was ready to give his life for the love of his life, Rose.
Only if he knew that she had already done it for him
How will a girl who had lost her moth...
If there was a feeling that Rose hated, it would be the embarrassment of hundreds of eyes on her in a heated moment. Her breathe slowed to a rhythm that might be considered dangerously low and erratic. The silence was overwhelming, the energy in the Great Hall shifting to a level that would make even the most structured being uncomfortable. Every breath that left everyone's lungs was a cloud of anticipation, judgment and fear. Rose didn't want to confront the situation, she wanted to turn around and storm out with her robes flowing behind her shoes rapidly speeding away and the pupils that burrowed into her thoughts.
The fury and worry in Dumbledore's eyes was magnified as they traveled through the glass in front of his eyes, two frightened teenagers trying to decide who would sacrifice themselves also visible in the reflection of the half-moon spectacles.
Rose felt like she was drowning in the thoughts that leaked over the grooves of her brain like a poison waiting to make its final strike. Her skin crawled like coils of heat were being intricately woven into her veins, flowing through her like a sedative.
There's no possible way that she could make Harry put himself in the forsaken tournament. The thought of losing Harry from this decision felt like murder. Rose slowly turn to face the Potter boy, she felt a tear slide down on her cheeks, her emotion feeling like it would be the last time she was free. Harry didn't look any calmer, which worried Rose even more. The room filled with tension of what the decision would end up being. This indeed was a heartbreaking conundrum of possible victories; possible last breathes to be echoed and carried away with the breeze, never to be thought of again.
"I need a decision, preferably before the Sun rises." Dumbledore pushed bitterly, the worry lines in his face being creased.
How was one supposed to approach this?
"I will," Harry announced shakily, taking a slight step forward. "It'll be me."
"Is this your final decision?" Dumbledore inquired.
Harry gulped. "Yes, that's the final choic -"
"No!" Rose whisper-shouted inching closer to Harry's face.
"Rose I can't let yo-"
"I don't care what you try to protest, there is no way I'm putting you in danger like that when I have the opportunity to sacrifice myself. I'd rather die knowing that you are safe and sound then something happens to you and I sit back and watch. I am sorry Harry but... you're not entering the tournament... Go to your seat Harry because I am not hearing a no for an answer." Rose spoke mustering all the courage she has with her voice quivering on a lot of words.
Dumbledore nodded as Rose marched like prisoner who clattered against acid rain to their punishment.
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Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames.
Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two.
