Rosalie's mouth was practically sewn shut before her fifth year. It's a known fact that Rosalie Edson was a quiet girl back then, staying in the shadows — only peeking out to annoy Sirius Black. That pest is the exception to all her rules, the cause of all her problems, even if he yelled at her five days earlier.

And she hates it — but a part of her loves annoying him, watching his sharp jaw tick, his eyes narrow, and his petulant remarks that follow. It's a wonder that people enjoy his company, or that women and men want to date him, but Sirius Black has dated a surprising amount of people. Obviously, it's never ended well, according to the large amount of rumours that surround him, involving one of his exes dumping coffee on his stupid hair.

They probably got tired of his dumb-as-hell personality.

Then, again, that's the one thing Rosalie can't one-up Sirius Black on. The one date she went on, back in her fourth year, was a dare. A stupid Ravenclaw — a shallow, conceited, and yet uselessly good-looking Gilderoy Lockhart — and his gang of stupid children loved to dare each other to date innocent girls; back then, they used to sound like helium-filled balloons losing their air every single time they uttered a laugh.

They probably still sound the same, too.

But their laughs didn't — and don't — matter, because Drake beat the shit out of the poor boy, who will forever be scarred. Rosalie's sure that Acacia hexed Gilderoy multiple times in the hallway after that, just for good measure.

She remembers the stupid date like yesterday. As her eyes glaze over, Rosalie imagines Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and the warm, steaming cups of hot tea as loud chattering fills the air. Rosalie recollects picking her best outfit for the day, and wearing a bow in her air.

Was it pink? Or yellow? Or —

"Rosalie — Rosalie, are you okay?"

Rosalie blinks, startled.

They're sitting in the grass, Uno cards passed out. Right after classes ended, Acacia dragged Rosalie and Drake out, pulling out her emergency pack of Uno cards, and seated them on the ground.

"We need a break," she'd insisted. "Classes are hitting like a bludger — and yes, that's a quidditch reference. Put a sock in it, Wilkins. Even you need a break, anyway. It is your birthday, after all."

Rosalie had gifted Drake a new watch this morning, and even Acacia reluctantly got him a new shirt — both which Drake thanked them for.

Now, Acacia stares at Rosalie, eyebrows knit together.

"I'm fine," Rosalie mutters.

Acacia still looks concerned, which is understandable. In fact, Rosalie used to constantly space out, even before she started receiving visions.

"I'm fine," Rosalie insists, tugging on her hair. Her scalp stings, but Rosalie doesn't care. "Just spaced out."

"Breath mint, Lili?" Acacia offers, as she picks up her cards.

Rosalie nods, picking up her cards as well. She's secretly delighted by her plus four as she takes the breath mint that Acacia offers, before swallowing it.

"You can rest, you know," Acacia continues, her concerned look not leaving her face.

Acacia's wavy hair is tucked behind her ear, and her flawless skin is usually an object of envy for Rosalie, whose pimple filled face needs the constant use of creams and spells, something which Rosalie is too lazy to do, but does anyway.

"I know you haven't been sleeping properly," Acacia continues.

Rosalie blinks. How does she know? She's sure that her visions are a secret —

"You haven't?" Drake asks. "Why not?"

"Schoolwork," Rosalie lies. Damn her stupid visions. "Don't worry about me. It's just the N.E.W.T. year, I guess."

Acacia narrows her eyes. "Right."

"Let's begin," Rosalie quickly says, taking one card out from the pile and placing it in the centre: a yellow four. "I'll go first."

She places a green four, followed by Acacia' green plus two.

"Already?" Rosalie asks as Drake picks up two cards.

"You're on, Abbott," he says, looking dead serious.

Serious. Sirius. Hah.

Wait. No! Rosalie's falling into a trap, a Sirius trap —

"I'll be winning, Wilkins," Acacia says, biting her lip as she narrows her eyes.

Drake scoffs, and this starts a flurry of cards, chaos, and cackling from Acacia that leaves everyone breathless. Uno brings everyone together, even the feuding Acacia and Drake.

"Uno," Drake drawls, looking smug.

Rosalie groans, placing her stupid blue two. Drake's been bombarding her with all his stupid plus twos and fours, and now she has a stack of fifteen cards instead of sixteen.

What a joy.

"Plus four!" Acacia says triumphantly. "Color is yellow."

Drake glares at her, Acacia glares back, and Rosalie spies a packet of crisps on the edge of the picnic blanket.

Rosalie opens the packet, chewing the crisps softly while Acacia and Drake's animated argument gets louder.

"I didn't cheat!" Acacia insists hotly. "You're just a sore loser! And you haven't even lost yet, you — you quill!"

Drake gives her a "you're so absurd" stare. "Yes, you did cheat — I saw you picking up the second card from the stack! And how is that even an insult?"

"Because quills are stupid," Acacia snaps heatedly. "Pens are superior. You know this — and I picked up the first card, you bastard —"

"This seems like something between the two of you —" Rosalie starts to leave, but Acacia grips her arm, pulling her back. "Guess I'm staying, then."

"Rosalie," Drake starts, and she almost groans. Great. Why did she open her stupid mouth? "What do you think about this?"

The both of them are expectantly staring at her now. Rosalie gulps. Dear Lord, she hates this type of attention. Why can't people just leave her alone and, you know, not involve her in their stupid arguments?

"I call this Rosalie's Single Jingle," she begins, not knowing what else to say. The two of them are rendered silent from total confusion.

Dear Lord, she is going to kill herself after this.

"I ask every day why I'm single, because I'm ready to mingle! Then I slowly remember that being taken will never leave me any alone time! It's surely possible to be able to not commit when being single, oh —"

"What the hell are you doing?" Drake snaps. "You suck at singing and — where are you going?"

Rosalie is running, far away, having snatched her bookbag and journal by distracting her friends with her wonderful song. Her stupid period just waterfalled on her again when she got up, because of course it did.

As she places it hastily inside while running, she pants, her hair flying in the wind. The two of them, thankfully, don't try to chase her, probably too confused by her amazing singing skills. They're also probably too mad at each other, too.

Shit shit shit — did she just sing? As Rosalie heads into the castle, she places her hands over her warm face, muffling a scream. She's so embarrassing, dear God —

Well. At least she escaped that shitshow.

Groaning, Rosalie decides to find her way back to her dorm, only to spot Sirius Black, strutting with his stupid little posse. Perfect. She needs to talk to him (read: yell at him) after the stupid, and utterly irritating stunt he pulled five days ago. Also, it's a distraction from the sheer embarrassment that she just experienced.

Rosalie walks up to Sirius with no shame, clearing her throat: "I see a little silhouetto of a man —"

"Stop. No." Sirius whirls around, pressing his hand to Rosalie's mouth. "You cannot ruin my favourite song — did you just lick me?"

Rosalie gags as Sirius wipes his hand on his robes. "Your hand is gross, Black. Just like the rest of you. Believe me, I didn't want to lick you, either."

James, Remus, and Peter stand awkwardly, slowly trying to leave. Rosalie understands. Sirius is holding them hostage with his horrible sense of fashion, lifestyle, and personality. She sympathises with his poor friends.

"The feeling's mutual." Sirius raises an eyebrow, his expression mirthful. "What brings your annoying presence, love, besides trying to ruin my life?"

Rosalie's eye twitches. "I despise you, Black."

He gives her a winning smile. "That's the goal."

Rosalie takes a deep breath — no, screw that. "Screw your idiotic arse. I hope you rot in hell, and know that we have to work on your stupid project — I'll be in the back of the library when we have to meet, by the way, and you'd better be there. I also hope that you put yourself in Azkaban so none of us —"

"Damn," James mutters. Remus pinches him.

"— especially those poor souls that have to spend time with you — have to deal with your idiotic presence." Rosalie breathes in and out, before continuing. "You're absolutely abhorrent, and your stupid anger issues —"

"Oh, this is about yesterday," Sirius interrupts, eyes widening in realisation.

"You dunderhead!" Rosalie fumes, grabbing his collar. "That's all you have to say, you dingbat?"

"Whoa!" James exclaims, trying to pry them apart, but failing.

"Kinky," Sirius mutters, and Rosalie lets out a frustrated scream.

"Let them fight," Remus says, pulling on James now, while Peter stands there, horrified.

"Do you know how angry you make me?" Rosalie snaps, shaking Sirius. "Why can't men just be straight up for once? Why can't you just do your work and argue properly —"

Sirius tilts his head, looking unbothered. "Is there even a way to argue properly —"

James is still struggling in Remus's grip, and Peter is now munching on chocolate, having given up on his friends' sanity.

"I. Don't. Care." Rosalie is shaking, still grabbing Sirius's collar, before she pushes him to the wall. He gapes at her, now definitely looking bothered. "I don't care if you insult me. I don't care if you tell me I'm stupid, because you're one to talk —"

"Hey!" he protests, while James snickers.

Rosalie scowls. "But if you take your anger out on me because of your family, I will not hesitate to break all the bones in your body, Black."

Sirius's eyes are wide. Speechless as Rosalie lets him go, he watches his enemy storm off.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

In the night, Rosalie wishes she could scream. But she can't. She is stuck in a relentless cycle of the past, events that already happened.

Again, again, again.

She just wants it to stop.

"I want to leave, Regulus." Shouldering a duffle bag, Sirius Black stands in front of a worn-down door — perhaps the door to his bedroom. "Are you coming or not?"

Rosalie's watching, unable to gasp when she notices the bruise on his upper lip and knuckles, the cut on his neck, and the lack of mischief in his grey eyes.

His parents — they —

Pain stabs Rosalie's abdomen. God, this isn't the feeling of brotherhood — it's the feeling of sorrow, of regret, of leaving.

And it hurts.

Obviously, Rosalie reprimands herself. It wouldn't feel like fuzzy marshmallows, would it? You daft idiot.

"I can't," Regulus says, voice low. "I need to stay."

Rosalie wants to float away, to disappear within the walls of this grotesque house, just to escape. Being there, listening to something so intimate — it makes her sick.

Sirius extends his bruised hand. "Come with me, Regulus. We'll leave together."

An olive branch. If the rumours are true, then Rosalie knows how this will end. Regulus will snap the branch and half and Sirius will leave and the vision will end and she'll wake up in tears, again.

"I can't," Sirius's younger brother repeats desperately. His hand twitches, like he wants to reach out and grab the end of Sirius's coat. "Please stay. Our family needs you. I need —"

"Regulus," Sirius mutters, pained. "They don't need me. You know that."

For once, Rosalie feels sympathy for him. She's not a monster. She doesn't like him, but she's lucky to have a wonderful family.

"Yes, they do," he insists. "Just say sorry and they'll —"

"Sorry?" Sirius snaps, face contorted into a scowl. "To the people who tortured me? Merlin, Reg, they'll just do it again!"

Torture. They tortured him. She's been a complete jerk to him, annoying him like a tosser while he got tortured back home?

Forget her earlier statement, she is a monster. Imagine the horrors and the dreams and everything and — well, she knows how it feels. Her biological father, Joon Kim, ruined her life before her fifth year. Perhaps not as badly as Sirius's parents did, but his actions left a scar.

Regulus shakes his head. "Just behave and they —"

Act properly, Joon would say, and I'll press the world in your palms. Whatever you want is yours. Rosalie behaved. And yet, she couldn't stop him and —

"And the moment you screw up," Sirius continues, "they won't care about you either. I hope one day you'll realise."

Rosalie realised too late, and she knows Regulus will, too. If she was real — not mist, or a third party like someone forced to watch a movie, chained up in their seat — she would be crying, sobbing, screaming to leave. All their feelings, their pain and sadness and hurt, circles, tearing her apart from the inside.

"That's not true!"

Sirius shakes his head. "You're deluding yourself, Regulus."

He turns, walking out. Regulus watches sorrowfully. Rosalie watches, too. She doesn't know what to feel. She doesn't know if the melancholia is Regulus's tempest of emotions or her own. She can never tell.

"Coward," Regulus mutters under his breath, watching him leave.

Rosalie wakes up, shaking.