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Chapter Fifteen: Regrets

A pounding beat thumped Rose's head, cracking the inside of her skull. She opened her eyes slowly, taking the time to adjust to the light of morning.

Sunlight crept into the crevices of her eyes, intensifying the headache. Slowly, she took in her surroundings. The softness of a mattress that was still brand new and blankets that were drug around the house more than left on a bed. Her trunk sat in the corner, its contents spilled out and scattered around the room. Clothes, books, potion vials, hair for polyjuice potions, toiletry items, photographs of her family, clipped-out newspaper articles, out-of-date files, old quills, and her special scrapbook.

It looked like a tornado whipped through or a drunken Rose.

Rose groaned, slamming her face back into the pillow. When Rose was drunk she tended to become a chaotic mess. Tripping over everything, knocking items to the floor, and purposely destroying whatever room she was in.

She supposed she should be grateful, she was in the bedroom and not the office. Even if she wasn't sure how she got to the room.

She sat up groggily, pressing a hand to her forehead.

What in Merlin's beard happened last night?

The last thing she remembered was sitting on the floor, as Malfoy insisted she have one more drink. She didn't drink often. Which meant her tolerance was low. Having two drinks last night was enough to make her buzzed. She must have had a lot more to be hungover like this.

It was a good thing a small cup of bitter black coffee would be the perfect cure for her hangover.

Rose flicked her wand, sending all the belongings back to their assigned spots in the trunk. Grabbing clean clothes, she rushed into the bathroom, thankful to not see Malfoy lingering in the hallway.

When she was freshened up, Rose tip-toed downstairs, half expecting to see Malfoy camped out in the sitting room, but it was empty. Her files and parchment from last night were stacked neatly on the coffee table.

An empty bottle of wine was nestled under the armchair, with a half-full one sitting menacingly on the floor. She'd drank nearly two bottles of wine. Add that on with the glass of firewhiskey Malfoy insisted she have. It was a miracle she was still breathing.

Moving into the kitchen, Rose whipped up a coffee. The bitter taste settled into her stomach, easing the bit of nausea that plagued her. She leaned against the counter, massaging her head and praying her headache would magically go away.

She mentally chasted herself for not packing a hangover potion or the ingredients to make one. Perhaps, Malfoy would have some, but she was too proud to ask. Proud or embarrassed? That was the big question. After last night, Rose wasn't sure she'd be able to look the ferret in the eye ever again.

***

Rose slammed her small cup of wine, "Can I go now Your Highness?" She taunted, as she gathered her files.

Malfoy ripped them out of her hands, holding them high out of her reach. Rose jumped after them, trying and failing to reach the papers in his hands. She huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"Will you give those back and stop being so childish? I have work to do."

"No, you don't. We're having fun tonight. That means no work, no discussing the case, and no calling me Your Highness. Supreme Overlord will work just fine."

"Supreme Overlord? This isn't some bad sci-fi movie."

"Sci-fi? If you're trying to insult me, do it in a language I can understand."