A Tale as Old as Time (Harry James Potter x OC)

Chapter 15...Little Women and Bigheaded Men

Rosemary bundled up in her thickest winter coat, the cold air biting at her cheeks as she made her way to Candace's house. She could have flooed there, but she wasn't of age yet, and there was something charming about the walk through the snow. The streets were quiet, blanketed in a layer of fresh snow, and the occasional twinkle of Christmas lights reflected across her face a golden shimmer complimenting her rosy cheeks and ocean blue eyes. Her breath forming small clouds in the crisp air, she tightened her scarf around her neck until it nearly choked her — which after the prior night's events, she might not have minded all that much, courtesy of the Malfoy's.

She still could not really get Lucius' words out of her head. "Limitations" was the word he had used to describe it — her and little Ollie's muggleborn background. Rose could hardly grasp why it was of so much importance to the bloke. She means, Godric, Narcissa, his wife, seemed to be wearing a sneer every time her eyes so much as drifted in his direction. Perhaps the overgrown ferret should focus on fixing that for a change instead of treating his son's friends like scum.

But anywho, today she planned to completely forget last night and just enjoy a girl's night in with her two best friends. Candace and Amanda always did know how to cheer her up, what with the help of some muggle film and popcorn Candace's muggleborn mother surely bought for them to binge.

Candace's house was a cozy, old-fashioned cottage with smoke curling from the chimney. It always felt like stepping into another world, one filled with warmth and laughter that Rosemary had not felt in her own home for a very long time.

Setting aside her cashmere gloves, another token of appreciation from Harry Potter that he had gifted her just a few weeks prior upon noticing her red and purple fingers — thus earning the boy a half-annoyed, half-appreciative smile that he replayed in his mind every night since before falling asleep — the blonde knocked on the door, her knuckles stinging from the cold.

Candace opened the door with a wide grin, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun and her oversized shirt hanging from her generous hips. "Rose! Come in before you freeze to death!"

Rose smiled and stepped inside, the warmth of the house instantly enveloping her. She could smell hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, and she felt the tension of the day melt away. Merlin, she truly did feel at home here.

"Hey, Rose!" Amanda called from the living room, where she was already sprawled out on the couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. "Get your fat arse in here, the movie's about to start!"

After Candace promptly swatted her friend's bum in response, earning a yelp from the blonde, Rose laughed and shook off her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. She joined her friends in the living room, settling in on the couch between them. Candace handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate, topped with an ample — perhaps superfluous — amount of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

"Thanks, Candace," Rose said, taking a sip and sighing with contentment.

"No problem," Candace replied, plopping down on the floor with a pillow to make more room for herself and pulling a blanket over herself. She rolled her shoulders back and sighed in hopes of getting a relaxing back massage from Amanda.

Fortunately for her, Her artist friend sighed and took the hint, her palms dutifully pressing between Candace's shoulder blades. "So needy," Amanda tusked, even as her cheeks warmed at the low sounds emitting from her friend's mouth.

Groaning deeply, Candace ignored her words, "Alright, ladies, tonight's feature is Little Women."

"Ooh, I love this movie," Rose piped up, her eyes lighting up. Of course, her friends already knew that and specifically chose this film after a little birdie known as Draco Malfoy sent them a letter this very morning to inform them of the prior night's endeavors in hopes of Rosemary's two closet girl friends lifting her spirits. Romantic classics always did have a way of making Rose feel better, almost as much as the company of her friends did.