Chapter Text
Rose always knew what she wanted. And she always got what she wanted. The only problem, she never liked it once it came. She took advantage, stuck her fangs into what she wanted and sucked it dry. But she was never fulfilled, only a pit in her stomach would be left standing.
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Rose’s inner monologue buzzed in circles while she quietly made faces to mimic the voice in her head. She rushed onto a shuttle bus at the airport right before it took off. The weather outside was drab, rather depressing compared to her home back in the states. But that was London for you.
Her meek, lanky frame, and pale skin blended in with the smog and bustle of the city natives around her. The only thing that made Rose stand out was her deep chocolate brown hair, the massive burgundy glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. And of course the red and cream sweater that swallowed her three times over. Other than that, Rose was, well, invisible.
She stepped onto the bus right before it left the stop, politely smiled at the driver, and took the last open seat. She was on a corner, between the bus doors and an old, frail looking woman knitting. Across from her was a woman who looked an ugly twenty, and what must’ve been her older, grayer boyfriend. They were making a vulgar display of public affection, getting closer than anyone should on public transit.
‘Stop being so judgmental, they’re in love,’ the voice in Rose’s head retorted.
She became very interested in the beat up trunk-like suitcase lying in her lap to avoid displaying her feeling of disgust blankly on her face— though she knew everyone within a ten mile radius could already see her exaggerated expression.
Rose stared at the tarnished golden plate in the corner of her case. Her initials had been engraved on them in small cursive, in case she ever misplaced the piece of junk and someone cared to return it.
R. J. L.
Rosaline Jack Lynn
Rose never liked her full name, it was too formal, too feminine. In stark contrast to her middle name, the same name as her great grandfather. She loved the boyish, easy nature of it. Some of her friends at home even affectionately called her ‘Jackie’, which she adored, even if they feminized the name a bit.
In England, though, she was Rose. Sweet, simple, straightforward. Nothing mysterious like Rosaline, nothing too masculine, nothing to be left up to interpretation. She didn’t need anyone to assume anything about her. Nothing they didn’t already rumor about.
Her eyes drift from the brown leather case to her faded jeans. She stared at her thighs for a minute, as if she could see through the rough demon to the thick scars that burned beneath. Thick, crimson and tan scratches rested on her legs. Rose wasn’t bothered by them anymore, she'd had them since she was about two or three years old. Despite her familiarity, she usually kept them hidden. Under her mom’s influence of course, who didn’t want anything out of the ordinary to be thought about her daughter.
Her mom was like that in a lot of ways.
‘Why does she care about it anyways, s’not like anyone else around here is anymore normal’, the monologue took over again and Rose’s face contorted in an overemotional reaction.
The voice wasn’t wrong per se, she was on her way to a magical middle-of-nowhere school. But still, she couldn’t be too different. Rose swatted the revolting though away.
Soon enough, after what felt like hours of stop-and-go traffic paired with fantasy conversation, the bus was finally at Rose’s stop. She carefully snuck off the old bus, with the sticky floor trying to tie her down. She skipped down the bus’ steps onto the train station walkway. She carefully eyed her platform, 9 ¾, and approached it. For this being Rose’s first year attending Hogwarts, she knew how to maneuver the station pretty well off of pre-communication directions alone. She then slipped through the magical-brick-wall-thingy and arrived on the other side. Even though Rose knew her way around the station, actually getting to the platform was still mind-boggling for her. The whole magic thing was still very mind boggling for her.
Rose then walked from the brown crumbling brick wall to the train door. She waved at the conductor standing next to the gigantic, black and red, old fashioned train. Through the crowds of chatting teens and teary eyed moms, Rose stepped onto the old train. It smelled of old books and warm cider, and the dim lighten created almost a comforting atmosphere. She went into the nearest empty compartment and slid into the corner. She stared at the wooden panelled walls and ugly blue patterned seat across from her. She propped her feet up on the navy bench and longingly gazed through the window, waiting for the train to leave the station.
Rose jumped up from the sound of a light knocking on the half open screen door of the compartment.
“Uh-ey. S’anyone sittin’ ‘ere?”
A tall, thin, blonde boy peered his head around the screen.
”No,” Rose hastily responded, “y-you can?”
Despite the awkward interaction, the blonde boy took a seat across from her anyways, and a plumper, shorter boy trailed behind.
”Names’ Jamie,” the blonde boy said, “s’and yourself?”
“Rose”
”S’nice to meet ya’ Rose,” the plumper boy spoke up, “I’m Henry,”
“So, ya new ‘ere?” Jaime broke a brief silence, “I’ve never seen ya’ before.”
”Yea, uh, I’m from the States.”
”Cool!” Henry seemed ecstatic, “I’ve always wanted to live in New York, howsit?”
”Well, I live in the Carolinas, but it’s pretty nice.”
”Why’d ya come ‘ere?” Jamie seemed to ask a lot of questions. Rose hated that.
”Well, y’know, generally wizardry.”
The boys chuckled at this blank statement, then drifted off into their own personal conversations about summer breaks and whereabouts. Rose plugged her earbuds into her phone and played music while she stared out the window zooming past the England scenery.
While her headphones buzzed with some 90s style grunge rock her dad would play on vinyl, Rose couldn’t help her eyes from drifting onto Jamie’s face. He wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen, but something about him was alluring. His blue eyes were like an ocean that beckon you to jump in. He reminded Rose of an old friend she had at home, with the same name, Jamey. Not only did they share a namesake, but also the same amount of stoic confidence while still retaining humility. Rose missed Jamey, old Jamey. He’d been taken away about a year back, gone to some institution. Though Jamey seemed to be more stable than Rose in some moments.
To be fair, Hogwarts seemed to be pretty close to an ‘institution’ for Rose’s sake. It was the same type of cage they’d always lock her up in, just this time it had sparklier bars and poshier cell mates.
Just a cage. Just a rat in a cage.
Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.
The Smashing Pumpkins were now screaming into her ears. This was good. It could drown out the voice in her head.
Drown out her memories.
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Rose had lost track of time once the train arrived at school. She followed Jamie and Henry into the grand dining hall, for what sounded to be some sort of assembly. She was ushered in with the rest of the ‘newbies’ and seemed to stick out like a sore thumb as a Year 5 with all these Year 1 students around her.
She maneuvered the hoard of kids, most of them wearing two-sizes-too-large robes and stiff collared shirts. She was waiting through the ‘sorting process’, where she’d get placed into a house. None of this ‘magic stuff’ amused Rose, she’d been dealing with magic long before her ascent to Hogwarts. Dark Magic. She disassociated from the grandeur that was her new school/cage and thought of simpler times. The Carolinas. The mountains. How the cool shade of a tall oak felt in contrast to the brazen sun. She remembers sweeter times, like elderberry wine the memories lingered on the tip of her tastebuds.
Through all the daydreaming, Rose had finally been sorted into a house. She only realized she was in front of the assembly when a giant hat had been placed on her head and shouted “GRYFFINDOOR!”
‘Odd. Why was this place so odd?’ She thought, over the roars of the Gryffindoor table, excited for their newest member. Rose didn’t remember much of the rest of the night. There was a large banquet, people tried to talk to her, a few girls who looked about her age were raving about quidditch, trying to get Rose to try out for the season. Rose declined politely, but tried to retain the small talk to the best of her abilities. The quidditch girls seemed kind though, two blonde girls with kind expressions. They looked as if they could be siblings, but the quieter girl, Marley, didn’t share the same amount of sociability as her taller, blonder counterpart did. She had noticed that her two friends, if she could even refer to them as such, Jamie and Henry, were off at the Slytherin table. What a shame, now Rose had to introduce herself to even more people than just the two. Some of the Gryffindoor kids seemed nice, she wondered who her dorm mates would be. They were in this sea of people after all.
One girl in particular caught Rose’s eye. She was like nothing Rose had ever seen before. The first thing she noticed was the mystery girl’s pillowly lips, cherry red in contrast to her lightly sunned skin. She bore a slight smile, with a gleam of hope and pride in her eyes. The girl's face was almost completely concealed, though, by a large helmet of curly black hair. It was freeflowing, perfect, yet effortless. Rose shoved these thoughts down and returned to her meal.
Rose finally made it up to her assigned dorm, to see her trunk propped up next to the bed in the corner, and three people already unpacking. Rose gave a slight knock on the askew door as a practice of decorum and walked in.
“Hiya!” A boy with a light brown complexion, a round face topped with black glasses and a curly mop of hair atop, got up from his seat on the floor to greet Rose.
”Uh-sorry, do I got the wrong dorm?” Rose murmured, confused, “Thought this was a girls dorm, that’s s’all, sorry-”
Rose almost walked out of the room until the curly headed boy quickly explained.
“No, no. This is the right dorm. Don’t know why they still put me in here, after 5 years of going to the same school some people still think I’m a cis guy!”
”It’s an old rule, they haven’t changed dorm code since, what? The 90s, 2000s maybe. This school is very progressive not, and what-not. If you’re cool with that. You’re cool with allat, right?” The curly haired boy took on an accusatory tone.
“Uh, yea,” Rose replied, weary, “I’m cool with it.”
”Don’t mind all his rambling,” One of the girls in the corner spoke up, “I’m Charlie, that’s Rohan,” Charlie gestured towards the curly headed boy.
”S’nice to meet you, I’m Rose.”
”That’s a lovely name,” The third figure in the room arose from their seat in the corner of the floor.
Oh. Oh.
The figure in the corner of the room, Rose’s room, was no other than the mystery girl from dinner. All Rose’s thoughts came flooding back, as if she could remember the night, only from a perspective centered around the mystery girl.
“I’m Sienna,” the mystery girl smiled, approaching the doorway where Rose was still starstruck.
The closer Sienna got, the more Rose noticed about her. Sienna had large brown doe-eyes that she was trying to hide with a copious amount of dark eye makeup. She smelled of warm leather and vanilla. There was this aura about her. Radiating, alluring. Sienna was a siren, and Rose was the one who dared to come closer. She was, to the highest definition of the word, perfect.
Rose hated it.