― 𝐢. Gourmande

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CHAPTER ONE❝gourmande❞

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CHAPTER ONE
❝gourmande❞







TRUST IS EARNED WHEN ACTIONS MEET WORDS.

The statement rang true for Rosalie Allen when facing the Death Eaters. However, it did not see itself true with Dumbledore, who seemingly trusted her words before her actions went to prove them. He picked her out exclusively, trusting her to complete what he wanted. Maybe the saying was true in all cases and he had seen her actions before picking her, assuring himself that he could trust her from the beginning.

But the Death Eaters did not know Rosalie and had not studied her before she had come to them with the promise of following them and leaving with a mark on her left arm, forever branding her to their cause. They had not raised and groomed her, brainwashing her for their good from the very beginning. She was a newcomer in a time when most new arrivals to their cause were expected to be the children from the older generation.

It did not help that she stood before them a child, underage, and in red robes that symbolized the house that they opposed the most. It was strange to see how much their world depended on the Hogwarts housing system, and how hostile they were to those who looked like her even if she was willing to help them. The only one among them that was just like her was Peter Pettigrew, who had proved himself valiant in three different cases, gaining their tolerance and trust.

But Rosalie...Rosalie had not given out details of where the Potters lived, leading to their deaths on her own first birthday. Rosalie had not faked her death and made someone else a murderer. She had not raised Voldemort from her near-death form only two years ago.

She had come knocking at their door a year ago with a promise to follow Voldemort to the word and memories to justify why she would, leading Voldemort to welcome her. And oh, how her life had changed in the past year.

It was easier for them to take her on their others, she supposed. If she betrayed them, there would be no one asking questions when she showed up dead. There was no family, her mother had died when she was a child and now her father passed just this summer, buried in her old backyard since she didn't want to pay the expenses of cremation or burial in a proper graveyard – he didn't deserve that. And she had no friends, isolating herself since her first year after Christmas.

No one would miss her, which made it easier for her to be welcomed into the ranks. Well, not welcomed perhaps, but begrudgingly accepted along by the others.

The pristine girl was clad in black, their naturally chosen color to represent them, as she sat in the parlor of the Malfoy Mansion with the heir to the residency beside her. Where Rosalie was good at masking her emotions, keeping a stoic expression always, Draco was learning. She gave him credit, he looked better than what Rosalie would have expected from him, but it could definitely be worked on. She would help him, though, she was kind in that way.

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