A Rose's Thorns

Chapter 4

They walked for a few more minutes with absolute silence, until they reached an alleyway of sorts. There was no one around.

"It's a short cut," said Rose, coming to a stop and effectively breaking the silence. "If we walk along this way for another minute or two, there is this fabulous French restaurant and the food there is absolutely divine."

"I am afraid, Rose, that we will not be dining in there," Tom said.

Rose frowned her eyebrow and let out a laugh, "You don't like French food? I didn't either, at first. I was not completely on board with the whole 'eating frogs and pigeons' thing. But it's actually really good and-"

"Sleep."

And so she slept, as the Dark Lord Voldemort put her into the Bewitched sleep. He caught her right before she fell to the ground, and carried her bridal style.

"My Lord..." Lucius Malfoy trailed off, his face blank but his eyes questioning.

Lord Voldemort smiled.

It was a sight that looked so in-humanly beautiful, that it evoked fear into the hearts of his most trusted followers.

"Go, and enjoy your evening," he said before apparating to who knows where.

Only after he disappeared with the Potter-girl did his followers breathe a sigh of relief, before nodding to each other and apparating to their own homes.

------> 0o0 <------

Slytherin Manor, 

Unknown location:

Rose felt a pondering headache as she woke up. It reminded her of the time she had fallen off of Snuggle-lump, her horse. She had woken up in the hospital bed with a bump on her head and was greeted by the faces of her worried parents.

Rose fully expected to find herself awake in the hospital once again. But as she opened her eyes, she realised that it was not to be.

She was on a bed.

A very comfy bed, and was covered with silk and satin sheets.

She rubbed her pretty emerald eyes before opening her eyes once again.

The room was much bigger than hers and filled with shades of green, black, silver and gold. It was beautiful and neat. A room fit for royalty. However, it lacked a certain warmth.

It was like staying in a hotel room- beautiful but not homey.

She sat up straighter on the bed, completely confused.

How did she get here? What was she doing here? Where exactly was 'here'?

"I see that you are awake," came a deep, smooth voice.

Her eyes widened, startled before they took in the sight before her.

'That man!' she thought angrily, enlightened with a rush of memories.

He had done something to her, she was sure of it. She remembers him acting a bit strange and telling her to sleep? Her memory was all foggy.

He calmly came and sat at the leg-post of the bed, with grace and elegance that mum had tried to force into Dudley (and had failed terribly).

"Where am I?" she asked him. Her voice, a whisper and her eyes confused, "What did you do to me?"

He laughed.

It sounded beautiful, like the notes she would play on her piano.

Despite herself, she couldn't help but dis-secretly admire how beautiful he was- his soft wavy black hair, icy blue eyes like the river Thames in winter, his pale, aristocratic, beautifully sculpted features.

He was like a pretty painting in an art exhibition. You could look all you want and dream of owning it, but you never would.

"You, dear Rose, are in the wizarding world," he said calmly as if he was talking about the weather and not about her being in a mythical place.

Now it was her turn to laugh, "You are crazy. Wizards don't exist, magic does not exist. Now, where am I really?" she asked.

He took out his Yew and Phoenix feather wand.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "A stick?"

"A wand." he corrected.

She rolled her eyes, "I had a magician at Dudley and I's fourth birthday. I hated him. He pulled a bunny out of his hat. Are you going to do that as well?" She asked mockingly.

He smirked, "Not quite. If magic doesn't exist, how am I able to do this?" and with a wordless Wingardium Leviosa, he levitated a chair in the corner with his wand.

She looked at this display with un-impressive eyes.

"Special effects. A transparent wire could be attached to the chair," she said stubbornly. "Science and common sense is the answer to everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Fair point, how about this."

He pointed his wand to the pillow beside her and once again, wordlessly turned it into a cat.

Her eyes widened in shock, "That's not possible!" she said before touching it.

It was real.

He actually did that.

It happened right before her eyes, and it was not a hologram.

On the inside, she was freaking out. On the outside, she was hyperventilating.

She looked at him shocked with wide eyes, "You turned a pillow into a cat! A CAT! That's not possible! You would be violating not only The Law of Conservation of Energy but also the form of the quantum Hamiltonian! How can you turn the basic molecular composition of a pillow into a living cat? How is it possible to convert the atoms into the DNA strands of a cat, wholly with its proper genetic composition? It's just not possible! And yet it is, how is it- ugh! How? How can you give a pillow a brain with the already coded neurological and anatomy of a cat?!?!"

He smiled widely, "Magic." he answered.

"Magic is not an answer, science is. Science can explain most things. Thousands of years of research by the greatest minds of all times and inventions and discoveries all ruined because you turned a pillow into a cat. A CAT! How could you do that?" she asked, having what could be called a mental breakdown.

His lips twitched upwards again, as he calmly answered. "Magic."

She looked at him with doubtful eyes, "Magic isn't enough to do that! You'd have to be a god!"

He chuckled, "Believe it or not, that is not the first time I have been called so."

Rose closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself. After all, it wasn't like the foundation of all of her beliefs was crumbling down to fine dust.

Oh wait, it was.

"So, magic is real?" she asked meekly.

He nodded, "Yes."

"And you are a .... wizard?"

"Yes."

"And, where exactly do I fit into this equation?" she asked him nervously.

His breathtaking smile grew, "You are a witch, Rose."

She frowned, "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say to someone."

And if he were a muggle and had no dignity left, Tom Marvolo Riddle would have definitely groaned.