ohrosie (ohrosie) wrote,
@ 2011-01-05 23:36:00

London had not changed in five years. Rose Weasley had.

From a distance, one could tell that the girl walked straighter. Confidence held her up like a marionette, taller and prouder than she had ever walked the halls of Hogwarts. Closer, one could see that her typically pale, though freckled, skin was tanned and darker than usual. There was a thick scar on her chin from an accident with a mob of doxies. From her months living on location, eating what plants were available and walking from place to place, she had become both thinner and stronger. Most people who knew her before would not recognize her in passing had it not been for the one thing that hadn't changed: her red hair.

It was a sudden decision to come back to England after five years traveling. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had no money: money wasn't needed with what she did, after all. But after four Christmases away from the family, four birthdays without her grandmother's cake, and four years without seeing from her family, Rose finally had to admit that she needed them and it was not weak to want to go home. She had no idea how long she'd stay, but as she walked through the Ministry, tall and straight, tanned and scarred, Rose had a feeling she was going to stay longer than she would have guessed. It surprised her how much she missed being around people.

Rose stepped into an empty lift and decided to see her father first. That surprised her as well: she had entered the Ministry with every intention of meeting up with her mother, as she had never been particularly close to her father, but she knew deep down he was who she really wanted to see.

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ohrosie
2011-02-12 02:38 am UTC (link)

Rose winkled her nose and shook her head. "I'm not grocery shopping with you, who am I, your mother?" But leaving the bar didn't seem a bad idea: she was feeling a bit heavy in the head, loose in the lips, and jelly in her legs. She imagined he had to be feeling at least slightly similar, and that meant the best course of action was to head back to his apartment and remain at least seven inches away from him at all times. For safety reasons.

She finished her drink, dropped it heavily on the table, and stood. "I should probably see your cupboards before I figure out how to stock them, yeah?"

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entitled_to_it
2011-02-14 12:45 am UTC (link)

"I haven't even finished my sodding drink yet!" Basil protested as she stood, but smiled all the same that he'd won more time. Stiffing the happiness as not to award her, he glared for good measure and stood as well. Instead of moving toward the door though, he stood defiantly and clutched the liquor while cocking an eyebrow at Rose like he was daring her to leave without him. She knew damn well one didn't abandon a perfectly good drink. Thankfully, with two already down, the third disappeared like water. It wasn't ideal, but letting Rose skip off without him was even less ideal.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand Basil called a "Thank you" and made his way toward Rose to lead her to his loft. As he neared, Basil felt his hand reach instantly to rest on her lower back; to guide her. He wanted badly to touch her, but wasn't sure how Rose would perceive it. After hovering indecisively long, Basil figured he could chock it up to alcohol and firmly made contact with his fingers. The rush was still there - forcing him to blink and concentrate. It helped alleviate the dread over Rose seeing his place. He had a feeling that her disapproval would be instant.

"Stairs are in back if you insist," Basil mumbled, still trying to maintain his muddled senses around her, "but you won't find anything but an empty mess."

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