Rosie had finally gotten number twelve livable again, and after much consideration she had decided that it was time to move out of her sister's house and into the townhouse, which she would then renovate herself while she and harry lived there. Of course her decision was met with much argument, both from Petunia and Dudley and from Kreacher, who was trying to convince Rosie that the house was perfect the way it was.
Petunia's argument has been that Rosie was attending university now, and had no business trying to both raise a child and get an education. Petunia was apparently worried that Rosie would wear herself too thin and would get sick, something Rosie had never done so she wasn't actually sure what made Petunia worry about it. Rosie had reminded Petunia that women went to school and raised children every day, and Rosie could do it just as well as any of them. Besides that she had noticed that Petunia had been getting a little larger in the last few weeks so Rosie was assured that her sister wouldn't have a problem at all filling the space Rosie and Harry left empty.
The move took several days but it was managed, and Harry had no problems settling into his new home. Especially after Rosie removed the shrunken house elf head from the stairway.
*******
About a week after she, Harry, and Kreacher moved into number twelve and Rosie had gotten Harry and herself situated in some spare bedrooms, Rosie came across a room with the letter HJP scrolled across the front, something that caught her attention. She knew, already, that the letters on the doors stood for the initials of the owner, but this far all the initials had ended in B, for Black. Rosie's curiosity drove her to open the door and when she flipped the switch beside the door, it had amused her greatly to know that the great Walburga Black had muggle lamps in her home, she saw a nursery.
It was one of the larger rooms, larger than any of the spare bedrooms Rosie had been working her way through. And when Rosie stepped inside she froze, noting the picture on the wall.
Rosie had only had her portrait painted once, and it had been such a long time ago she had almost forgotten it. During one of her days spent at number twelve over the summer Rosie had brought Harry along to give Petunia a break. Walburga had surprised her with an artist, and told her that the artist would be painting her portrait as she sat with Harry. Rosie hadn't gotten to see the picture when it was finished, something that she had been quite irritated about at the time. But now she knew why.
In the picture she and Harry were smiling at each other, Harry's dark hair just barely coming in and the two of them looking at each other with matching green eyes. Rosie in the picture grinned down at the baby for a moment before she looked back up and hugged baby Harry into her chest while he cooed happily. Rosie's eyes felt a little damp as she watched the painting's movements, her younger face forever cuddling up against Harry's, the boy giving his aunt a gummy smile. Rosie looked around the rest of the room and smiled indulgently when she saw it was decorated in slytherin colors. After seeing the picture it didn't take a genius for Rosie to realize that the room was meant for Harry. And it warmed her heart that Walburga had done it even after having met Harry a handful of times.
Rosie looked around the room for another moment before she stepped back out into the hallway and gently closed the door behind her. She made a mental note to move Harry out of his current room and into this room when she got the chance.
*******
Bill Weasley missed his best friend terribly, something he never thought he'd say. When he and Rosie had been in school together Rosie had seemed so permanent. But Rosie hadn't been on the train at the start of the year and Bill had most definitely noticed.
It wasn't that Bill didn't have other people he could sit with, he was fairly popular in gryffindor and he was on his house quidditch team, but none of the people compared to Rosie. Not that he could expect them to.
Bill Weasley had been surrounded by witches and wizards all his life. His family, though classified as blood traitors, were always surrounded with other wizarding families. Though Rosie knew her way around the wizarding world, she was refreshing in a sense that she didn't care about blood status, and she didn't care what other people thought of hers. Bill had once imagined that she would face down the dark lord himself if she needed to, to protect another muggleborn.
Bill Weasley missed Rosie terribly, so when he got off school for Christmas break the first thing he did while in London was to go to Rosie's house, upon her invitation, and visit. Rosie had given Bill the address over summer holiday but Bill hadn't been able to find a reason for his parents to allow him into London alone. And he was just selfish enough to not want to share Rosie with the rest of his family.
Right before Christmas break Rosie had written to Bill and given him instructions on how to enter number twelve, something that had puzzled Bill before he had thought about who number twelve had belonged to before Rosie. The ancient house of Black was notoriously paranoid and Bill imagined that since she was raising the boy who lived, Rosie simply hadn't seen a reason to remove the protection charms.
Think of the address while you stand between number eleven and thirteen. Rosie had written. So Bill did.
Number twelve, number twelve, number twelve, number twelve, number-
Bill stopped when before his very eyes, another part of the building appeared. It looked remarkably like the other houses on the street, not at all what he would have thought it would look like. Furthermore, the house didn't have the ominous feel one would expect from an old pureblood family's house, and Bill had been a quite a few.
After a moment Bill did the only thing he could do. He went up to the front door and let himself in.
*******
Rosie had been a beast, tearing through the house ripping out the yellowing wallpaper and molding carpets with a ferocity that scared and amazed all those there to witness it. Kreacher, who had been trying to deter her from ruining the ancient grace of the great house of black, had had his hands full since she started. Rosie had never had her own house to decorate before- she had even been hesitant to paint her room in her sister's house because she knew she would be moving out one day and didn't want to leave behind a color her sister would hate. Now that she had free reign though, she left nothing untouched.
There were a few things that Rosie left, a collection of priceless antiques and family momentos she knew Walburga would have hated to lose, but most was replaced. It was one of those days that Rosie had off from college when Bill arrived at number twelve, letting himself in to be met with a most particular sight. Magic carpets had been banned by the ministry many years ago, and Rosie was absolutely delighted to find that Walburga had had one hidden away in one of the many parlors.
It was that carpet that Rosie was using as she painted the foyer, herself balanced precariously and notably unconcerned as she danced about. Walking into number twelve was like walking into a wall of sound, Rosie had charmed an old Victrola she'd found to play muggle albums at ear ringing levels as she painted. Furthermore, Kreacher was running around beneath the levitating Rosie trying to clean up any paint splatters she dropped as she hadn't bothered with putting down cloths. From the distressed look on the house elf's face, there had already been many little spills.
On the way into the house Bill had passed another particular sight, Harry sitting in front of a portrait of Walburga Black while the painting told the boy stories. Bill believed he had met the pureblood witch once or twice when he had been quite young- there were gatherings where pureblood families from all walks of life convened every now and then- And the smiling blonde woman in the frame was nothing like the Walburga Bill remembered from his early youth. There was a softness in her eyes as she looked down at Harry that hadn't been there then.
After a few moments it appeared that Rosie ran out of paint in her little tray, which she had charmed to float beside her as she painted, and both she and the try were expertly maneuvered to the floor where she stepped off and finally caught sight of Bill.
"Weasley!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms wide open as if expecting Bill to ignore the paint she had somehow managed to spread from head to toe- she had been painting her walls a startling shade of mint green when Bill walked in and she even had a clump of it in her hair- and hug her anyway.
Bill accepted the hug gladly and tried not to imagine what his mother would say when he returned home later.
"Hey, Rosie," Bill greeted her, grinning brilliantly. "You're a right mess."
Rosie pulled back, also grinning, and slapped bill gently upside the head. She noticed but didn't comment on that she'd accidentally got paint on him, because it would only prove his point.
"Yeah well you're a ginger," Rosie said childishly, and from where Kreacher was working on getting a particularly large drip off the hardwood, there was a snort.
"Eloquent as always, mistress," the house elf scoffed, causing Bill to frown. He glanced between Rosie's unconcerned face and the elf for a moment before he finally just decided to shrug. Anyone else would have beaten the creature for being spoken to like that but Bill guessed Rosie was never normal.
Bill rolled his eyes and flung his arm over Rosie's shoulders, something he had taken to doing as soon as he passed her in height several years earlier.
"Don't worry, Rosie. You're perfect to me."
The two of them walked towards the kitchen where Rosie had tea waiting, Harry telling Walburga's portrait 'goodbye' and scampering after them.