5.2 Hogsmeade Meet-ups

The well-worn path to Hogsmeade wound back and forth from the Hogwarts gate, occasionally bending on itself in hairpin turns and hiding the path ahead. It was currently deserted, although Rose had spotted someone on the path ahead of her early on her hike. But the air was crisp and clear, and since she paused to pick up handfuls of autumn leaves, her fellow traveler soon outpaced her, disappearing around one of the hairpins and never reappearing. For the remainder of her trot down the hill, Rose was alone. She didn't mind it a bit. Nature was harder to enjoy in company, especially if that company was intent on hurrying or kicking up the leaves or making as much noise as possible.

The leaves she collected were tied together into an autumnal garland, and when she tired of that activity, the garland was left to decorate a particularly pathetic sapling right beside the path. The smell of wood smoke drifted up the hillside, and Rose paused at a break in the trees to look down at the thatched roof village. Hogsmeade was easily the most picturesque village Rose had seen, and it remained so through every season. Some preferred the snow-capped thatch in winter, but Rose found this autumn moment to be more idyllic, with smoke spiraling up through the reds and oranges of autumn leaves. From up here, she couldn’t hear the sound of students shouting at each other up and down the street, and it was easy to believe the place was as pristine as it looked.

Her reverie broke as soon as she entered the village, when a squabbling group of third years required her mediation over their Honeydukes purchase. They had more candy than they could carry, and Rose earned herself a sugar quill for her help. Sucking the feathery end, Rose took the long way through the village in order to avoid the High Street preferred by her classmates. It wasn't that she was avoiding anyone, but the quiet felt so good to her, like air to someone who didn't even know they were drowning, and she wanted it to last as long as possible. The fall chill left her pale cheeks pink and ruffled her curls, but Rose felt too content to worry over the state of her hair. Leaving the castle had been such a good idea that all the mental gymnastics she'd required to justify it now seemed ridiculous. She was days ahead in her schoolwork, weeks ahead in some cases, and a little break was needed.

As she licked a sticky spot from her thumb, movement drew her attention to a figure darting from an alley between two cottages. Rose didn't have time to react before a hand latched around her wrist, forcing her to drop the sugar quill, and Yates Shacklebolt pulled her sharply back toward the side street from which he'd just appeared. "I thought I saw you coming into Hogsmeade, but then you disappeared on me. Come with me." Rose dug in her feet and put up a struggle, but Yates was much bigger than she was and Rose couldn't find her balance. Against her will, she was dragged out of sight of the street into the shadows of prim cottages.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you." By some small miracle, she pulled her wrist free from his grip and skittered away like a hermit crab, moving sideways in mincing steps. Perhaps he hadn't been trying to act the brute, but her shoulder ached and the skin of her wrist was red and chafed. She'd need to apply a poultice before a bruise was able to bloom.

At least there wasn’t an audience, as in Potions class, for Rose to put on her more charming manners, and she openly scowled in Yates’ direction. In her world, one did not manhandle a girl, unless that girl was one’s cousin or sibling and one was trying to torture information out of her. Totally different thing.

“Why are you being like this?” Yates appeared genuinely puzzled, but Rose would not waver. He was contemptible, in her opinion, and any behavior that indicated otherwise was an act. Others might be fooled by Shacklebolt, but she saw through him. His disarming baby face was giving way to the more chiseled features of a handsome man, and his smile was a fleeting gift when bestowed, but all Rose could see was someone who took things that didn’t belong to him.

Step by step, Rose backed toward the street, keeping her arms well out of his reach. There would be no more manhandling, and no amount of charming smiles or befuddled looks would entice her to stay. “I’m not being like anything, Shacklebolt. I don’t like to be grabbed.”

“You could do with grabbing on occasion.” His expression was benign, but Rose felt dirty, as if he was leering at her behind that geniality. “Just come with me. I’ll stay this far away from you the whole time.” He measured out the distance with his hands. It wasn’t enough. Rose wanted continents between them. Planets, if they were able.

“I’m meeting someone.” It was only mostly a lie. Al was somewhere in Hogsmeade, and she hoped to catch up with him and Jayne before heading back up to the castle. Of course, they were easier to find on the High Street, but she planned to check the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes and had faith Al would be in one or the other.

“Who? Malfoy?” If Rose had a camera, everyone could see the ugly expression twist across Yates’ features. As it was, she felt a surge of guilty joy at being able to make him unhappy enough to drop the façade. Who knew Malfoy brought out that side of Yates? If only she’d realized it sooner, Rose would have taunted him with it long ago. She would happily sit next to Malfoy morning, noon, and night for the privilege of making Yates squirm.

“I don’t choose to share my personal business with you, Shacklebolt.” Her skittering landed her back in the street, and relief flooded Rose. The alley had been shadowed by the overhanging thatch from adjacent cottages, giving the still space an oppressive feeling that was dispelled by sunlight and laughter from down the street.

“You used to be more personable. Whatever happened to that Rose Weasley?” Yates stayed back from the street, the sunlight falling in patches across his face and shoulders.

Personable, was it? That was a word for the little foolish child that had once considered Yates Shacklebolt to be a trusted friend, counted with Al and Jayne as one of her favorite people in Gryffindor house. He hadn’t been worthy of that trust. “We all grow up sometime.”

Without a backward look, Rose cut across the street in the direction of the shops and the rest of the students visiting Hogsmeade. Yates wouldn’t chase her; he’d made his hesitancy to be seen with her very clear by pulling her out of sight and refusing to follow her back into the street. In a perfect world, Rose could use this strange new goal he had of trying to get her alone and his equal desire not to be seen with her in public to her own advantage. Those two instincts of Yates' were at cross purposes, and it would take very little nudging to get him to screw up at his own twisted game. While Rose had absolutely no desire to spend any more time than necessary in his company, there was something to be said for the sacrifices one made for the greater good. In this case, the greater good was Al's, since she considered Yates to be his major competition for Head Boy. She needed to discredit Yates, and she needed to take from him all the things that made him a good candidate for Head Boy.

What did he have that he could lose? He had his famous father and Kingsley Shacklebolt's pristine reputation, but there was no way she could touch the Minister of Magic. Nor would she want to. Much as Rose disliked Yates, the entire Weasley side of her family was on good terms with his father. Rose herself had met the man several times, and she liked him. She certainly thought he was good at his job, especially as the Wizarding world had unprecedented peace for the last 25 years, most of which he'd been in office. If anyone thought it was time for some fresh blood to take over to invigorate the political process, they weren't saying it outloud. Or they weren't saying it outloud to her. But aside from a famous father (and really... who DIDN'T have one of those these days?), Yates had other things that were easier for her to impact. His grades were good, nearly as good as Rose's, and the professors liked him. Was there a way to ruin his grades without drawing suspicion? Or to change his relationship with the professors that had the most influence over the Head Boy decision?

The real advantage Yates had was the good will of the other students. For the most part, he was well liked and respected. He was the one, for instance, that could tell the common room to settle down and head for bed, and they would do it and seem almost cheerful in the process. When Rose tried the same tact, the students grumbled the entire way, treating Rose as if she was purposefully being a joy killer. She did not LIKE killing joy, but sometimes joy killing was in the job description. If the students could only see Yates as he really was, as Rose knew him to be, then no one could believe he was capable of leading them. They'd stop following, he'd lose his influence, and the job would be as good as Al's. That was the best route, then - she needed to discredit Yates among his peers.

He also had that pretty Ravenclaw girlfriend Mei Wyman. Some considered her to be the prettiest in sixth year with her pixie-cut dark hair swishing over liquid black eyes. She and Yates had been dating since the end of their fourth year. For reasons that Rose could not fathom, having a likeable girlfriend that other boys drooled over was somehow another boon for Yates, another reason he was worth looking up to. It was in Mei's own interest to find out what sort of boyfriend Yates was, and Rose didn't mind in the least helping that knowledge along. She was just being a good person, after all.

Her resolve strengthened as she ate up the avenue with purposeful strides, and when she hit the High Street, Rose felt confident in her abilities. She didn't have any of the specifics, or even a plan really, but she had the desire. Sometimes that was more than enough. The plan would come later, and it would likely involve several highly detailed lists.

There were students spilling out of Zonko's and Honeydukes, but Rose skipped both establishments. It was possible Al was loading up on sweets, but he tended to save his shopping until the end of his visit to Hogsmeade. Just down the street, Madam Puddifoot's was crowded, mostly with sixth and seventh year couples taking advantage of their limited opportunities to go on anything that qualified as a 'date' during the school year. A few younger students crept in, too, out of curiosity and a desire to appear more mature. Through the front window, Rose spotted Mei waiting alone at a table, book in hand, and assumed the Ravenclaw was waiting on Yates. The idea that she might run into him again propelled Rose further down the street in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. At the very least, she could get her spiced pumpkin cider.

Inside, the Three Broomsticks was as crowded as she'd ever seen it. Scorpius Malfoy was ensconced in one corner with Tamsin Urquhart, and Rose gagged a bit over the way they seemed so wrapped up in each other. According to precedent, Malfoy would be wrapped up in a different girl on each subsequent visit to Hogsmeade. Or so she heard; it wasn't as if Rose spent any amount of time worrying about who was taking who to Hogsmeade. Most of the other tables were occupied by small groups of students enjoying a respite from their shopping and general escape from the castle, although the Gryffindor Quidditch team had shoved together tables opposite the bar and was making more than their share of a ruckus. It was a wonder Malfoy could stand to be in the same room with all that showboating, as Rose herself could barely stomach it. The entire team was there, aside from Yates, and they looked to have settled in for the long term, considering the number of bottles on the table.

Fred spotted Rose as she entered, and he managed to get the table to chant her name until she had her cider in hand and had crossed the room to join them. Not that she was staying for any length of time, but at least she'd managed to track down Jayne and Al. Jayne sat squashed in beside Rox and Fred, and she was in constant danger of getting an elbow to the head with all the arm flailing Fred was doing. In spite of the danger, her friend seemed remarkably unaffected by the hubbub around her. Her hair had been scraped back up into a ponytail and her eyes were smudgy. She looked miserable. Al didn't look much better. Seated at the end of the table beside James, Al's expression was sulky and cross. It was remarkable that the two of them managed to be so unhappy when everyone else at the table was practically exploding from high spirits.

Despite the best of her intentions and vociferous denials that she would NOT be staying, Rose was pulled in to share the bench with Jayne and Rox and subjected to toasts proposed by James, then Fred, then Aiden McLaggen, and then Rox, who proceeded to spill her butterbeer in the process. It set them all to laughing again, and Jayne took that moment to put her mouth to Rose's ear.

"I have to get out of here." Up close, Jayne's eyes were red. Rose was a very bad friend, she decided. In the space of time since Jayne had tried to drag Rose from the common room until this moment, something had happened to upset the one person in the world Rose believed it impossible to upset. Jayne was stoic in the way the only girl in a house full of boys had to be. She didn't embarrass easily. She didn't panic easily. And she didn't even cry when a Bludger gave her a concussion last year, and Madame Hooch made her sit out the rest of the game.

Rose finished her cider and shoved the glass to the middle of the table with all the empty bottles. "Sorry, lads. And Rox. I'm stealing Jayne for a while. We're going to talk about girl things," she informed Al pointedly when he started to rise. He scowled at them both as he fell back into his seat. It must have been a day for people to act out of character, because Rose could count on one hand the number of times he'd been cross with her. Was there something in the butterbeer?

They had barely crossed the threshold of the Three Broomsticks and let the door shut behind them when Jayne put her face in her hands. Rose had a suspicion that her friend was actually crying right here on the street in Hogsmeade, in front of strangers and Slytherins and everything. When a tear leaked through her fingers and dripped to the pavement, Rose caught up Jayne's shoulder and propelled the girl around the corner onto a little side street that was devoid of snoops. Whatever this was didn't need to be shared with the entire school, although Rose had a sinking suspicion it would be. People just couldn't mind their own anymore.

"I'm really sorry, Jayne." Rose carried a number of clean handkerchiefs on her at all times, and she pressed one of these into Jayne's hands. Jayne, in turn, scrubbed at her face with it, leaving both her cheeks and the cloth streaked in dark make-up.

"Not... your fault," Jayne hiccupped. She offered the handkerchief back, and Rose waved it away. "H-he asked me to Hogsmeade."

And now they were to the meat of the issue, whatever it was. "Who did?"

"J-James."

Huh. James. In a million years, Rose wouldn't have suspected that. Not James asking, not Jayne accepting. It was all very mysterious, this whole romance thing, and completely past the point of logic. They really ought to write a book about it, but a credible one that was devoid of stupid things like heaving bosoms and palpitating hearts. Those things didn't really happen. "Well. That was nice of him."

"H-he asked e-everyone," Jayne managed before hiccuping into the once-white square of cloth again. Rose patted her arm. So it wasn't really the romance thing at work here, or not entirely. It was the James being a complete dunce thing, and it was the Jayne being embarrassed thing. But not romance. Right? Merlin, any girl would have said yes to a date with James Potter, if they thought they were being asked on a proper one. Especially Jayne, who would have enjoyed talking Quidditch with her team captain.

"It's going to be okay." Rose patted Jayne's arm again, and her voice hardened with resolve. Above all things, Rose was a fixer. She could fix this too.

"I don't think so," Jayne seemed to have collected herself, and she scrubbed at her face with the pathetic little handkerchief. Rose offered assistance, pointing out where dark smudges lingered on her friend's face. "I'm so stupid. I-I thought it was a date."

Her lip wobbled again, and Rose held up a finger, commanding the wobble to stop. "But no one knew you thought it was, right? You just looked extra beautiful today. And next Hogsmeade weekend, you'll have a real date, and not with any of those dung-for-brains."

Jayne blinked at Rose, clearly confused. "I will? I don't..."

"You will," Rose said firmly, rescuing her handkerchief at long last. "I'm going to find you one."