Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Gravity	By : Slytherins-Quill Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 7073 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No money is being made from the posting of this story & no copyright/trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter List
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A/N: Hi all! Since the Prologue chapter was so short I decided to go ahead and post chapter one for you. I hope you’re all enjoying the story so far. Let me know what you think.

~Quill

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter One

They landed with a jolt in the front entrance of Grimmauld Place. Rosalie stumbled as her knees threatened to give out from beneath her, yet she couldn’t seem to muster the will to care. A strong hand appeared under her arm just as she thought she might collapse and she looked up to see Snape eyeing her as he might an obscure potions ingredient. She wondered if he thought she was crazy? Or perhaps just stupid? But she just felt numb—fuzzy—like all her senses were wrapped up in cottonwool keeping the rest of the world at bay. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. It was as if she were watching the events that were going on around her rather than living them, somehow disconnected from everything. She thought it was possible that she might be in shock.
Rosalie flinched as she looked down and saw the blood that was beginning to dry and grow sticky on her clothing—her skin.
“Come along,” Snape prompted, giving her a gentle nudge forward with the arm he had looped under hers, holding her upright. His grip was strong and sure and for once in her life she didn’t question his help, instead she accepted the support he offered and allowed herself to lean into his strength.
Rosalie nodded absently and made her feet move forward. She focused her energies on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the thin moth-eaten carpet disappear under her feet as she made her way through the dark halls of the house. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of Madame Pomfrey as the mediwitch checked her over that the fog began to lift and she began to absorb the world around her a little bit again. She pushed at the mediwitch’s hands as the woman ran a barrage of scans and charms over her.
“I’m fine,” Rosalie mumbled.
Madame Pomfrey gave her a sceptical look.
Oddly enough, however, she was fine despite what she’d been through. She wasn’t hurt—not really, anyway—her throat hurt and it was difficult to talk or swallow, but on the whole she’d once again managed to escape relatively unscathed. Maybe Snape was right, maybe it was sheer luck that keep seeing her through all these ‘situations’ she kept finding herself in. Maybe it was luck that allowed her to escape unharmed, unlike the man who’d attacked her...
Rosalie felt something in her stomach tighten uncomfortably.
Merlin, she’d killed a man. She’d killed someone. He’d been trying to rape her and he’d probably have tried to kill her too, but still...
All of a sudden she felt sick and mumbled something to that effect before she was doubled over purging herself of what felt like every meal she’d ever eaten. Madame Pomfrey barely managed to take a step back in time as vomit began to redecorate the floor and Rosalie felt bad for not giving her better warning. The mediwitch rubbed her back soothingly and held her hair back until she was finished, though, before vanishing the vomit without a second glance.
Rosalie felt cold and shivery and wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was standing around in nothing but one of Dudley’s old oversized t-shirts, now used as a nightgown, that was soft from years of use and more than likely threadbare in parts. She felt her cheeks flush pink with embarrassment, acutely aware of the fact that not only was she now wearing no knickers, but the t-shirt only hung to mid-thigh. Suddenly she missed the comfort and modesty of Snape’s cloak with an astounding intensity, wishing she hadn’t handed it back to him quite so soon. Squirming in embarrassment she tried to tug the t-shirt down to cover more of her legs.
“Do you think I could shower now, Madame Pomfrey? I’d like to change and wash some of this...blood off of me,” She croaked out awkwardly.
“Of course, but first drink this potion, it will help reduce some of the swelling around your throat and ease the pain a little. When you’re done, come back and I’ll apply some bruise salve.”
Rosalie swallowed the potion dutifully, sighing with almost immediate relief, “Thank you.”
The mediwitch nodded, eyeing her shrewdly.
“Before you go, Professor Snape mentioned—” Madame Pomfrey cut herself off, seeming to rethink her choice of wording before beginning again, “Rose, I’m going to ask you something difficult and I need for you answer me truthfully.”
Rosalie nodded warily.
“Did that Death Eater rape you?” Madame Pomfrey asked plainly, not one to mince her words, “My scans show no evidence of it, but...”
Rosalie felt mortification flood her cheeks, “What?”
“You’ve blood on your thighs, dear, and considering the circumstances and state in which Professor Snape found you, we were concerned—”
“No.” Rosalie interrupted, “No! He didn’t—He didn’t touch me.”
Madame Pomfrey held her gaze for long moments, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” She whispered out, her voice desperate and strained, “Yes, I’m sure.”
The older witch nodded and Rosalie fled from the room like a Hungarian Horntail was on her heels.
She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her as she barrel into the room and pressed her back up against the wood. Her breath was coming in heaving pants and she couldn’t seem to bring it back under control. It was too much, it was all too much. No, he hadn’t touched her, not in any way that it counted, but it had come close—too close—and then she’d killed him.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back the sob that was threatening to tear free only to reel back again in disgust when she realised that her hands were still covered in dried blood. His blood. Merlin, it was all over her!
Suddenly she was desperate to be clean again.
Tearing the t-shirt she wore from her body, wincing as she felt it peel away from her skin, Rosalie threw herself into the shower stall. The water was ice cold, but she gritted her teeth and turned it on full blast, ignoring the fact that she was shivering violently under the steady pounding stream. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin felt raw and tender and the water no longer ran pink. She barely registered the fact that she was sobbing loudly, tears pouring down her cheeks mingling with the steady flow of water from the shower.
Rosalie felt her knees give out from underneath her and she let herself sink down the wall slowly, pulling her knees into her chest and letting her head fall onto her arms where she stayed as the icy sheets of water rained down atop of her.

“Rose?”
Someone was pounding on the door, calling her name loudly. Rosalie blinked and lifted her head. She was still in the shower, the water still pounding down around her in icy sheets. Her teeth were chattering loudly and her body quaking under fine tremors. How long had she been in there?
“Rosalie! I’m coming in, alright?”
She barely looked up as the door flew open and Hermione rushed in.
“Rosalie!” she heard her friend gasp loudly, “Ginny go get Madame Pomfrey!”
Suddenly the stream of water stopped and Rosalie looked up to see her friend hovering over her, her face creased with worry, tears shimmering in her eyes. Tears for her? Tears because of her? She probably looked horrible. She was cold and pale, the bruises that ringed her neck standing out against the pallor of her skin in stark relief.
“Come on, let’s get you out of there,” The other witch whispered in a wobbly voice.
Rosalie allowed herself to be pulled up off of the floor and out of the shower. A large fluffy towel was wrapped around her, its rough texture irritating on her tender skin. It felt oddly warm against her frigid body though, and she wondered if someone had cast a warming charm over it.
“It’s okay,” Hermione was whispering over and over as she stood behind her trying to towel dry her long hair, “Oh, Rose.”
“Miss Potter!” Madame Pomfrey gasped as she entered the tiny bathroom; Mrs. Weasley and Ginny close on her heels. “Dear Merlin, child. You’re like an iceblock.”
“Rosalie, sweetie, are you okay?” Mrs. Weasley whispered as she wrapped her in a surprising gentle hug, “You’ve scrubbed yourself raw!”
“Miss Weasley, if you could run downstairs and retrieve the Burn Salve, Bruise Slave, a Calming Draught and some Dreamless Sleep from my supplies please and then bring them back here, we’ll see about getting Miss Potter into bed.” Madame Pomfrey requested gently.
“I’m okay,” Rosalie whispered suddenly as Ginny dashed from the room once more.
“Yes, that is overwhelmingly apparent,” Madame Pomfrey chided gently.
Rosalie let herself be herded across the hall and into the bedroom she shared with Hermione the previous summer by the three remaining women and found herself tucked under magically warmed covers in short order.
“Now, Miss Potter, when Miss Weasley returns with the potions I’ve requested we will apply the necessary salves and then you will rest. You are in shock, which is understandable, but clearly I should have kept a closer eye on you. Trying to freeze yourself to death in the shower is not healthy behaviour, which you might have realised had you been in your right mind. A good night sleep will do the world of good.”
Rosalie didn’t feel the need to protest, nodding her head sedately. She so rarely slept and slept well that potion-induced sleep sounded wonderful; to be able to close her eyes and drift away from the rest of the world, forget that anything that night had ever happened sounded wonderful, though she doubted it would fix anything—when she woke up again, she’d still have killed a man. Nothing could erase that.
Ginny returned with the potions and Madame Pomfrey quickly and effectively booted the others out of the room and started work applying the salves, talking to her all the while about that she was doing.
“Burn Salve repairs damaged skin tissue, which is why it will help sooth all this raw skin,” she explained as she smeared the greasy concoction across her tender skin, “You’ll be right as rain come morning. Things seem horrible and overwhelming now, but I promise you, Rose, once the shock wears off and you’ve had a goodnight sleep it will all be easier to deal with.”
She doubted it, but the mediwitch got points for trying at least.
Rosalie swallowed the Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep as they were handed to her and was asleep before she remembered Madame Pomfrey leaving the room.
It was another eighteen hours before she awoke.

*

She was sitting on an old moth-eaten chair that was tucked away in the back corner of the Black Family Library when Severus finally tracked her down. The library—of course—was the last place he’d expected to find her given what he knew of her studying habits and therefore the last place he’d thought to look. Yet there she was, apparently soaking up the atmosphere and Severus felt his expression settle into a familiar glare of annoyance as he stared at her. So typical of Potter to make him search for her, rather than simply being where she ought to be.
She sat half turned away from him, so that he was looking at her profile. Her knees were drawn up to her chest defensively, her oversized jumper practically swallowing her slight frame whole and her bare feet sticking out from underneath too-long muggle jeans. Her long, dark hair was hanging in messy tangles halfway down her back as though she hadn’t brushed it since rolling out of bed that morning and her gaze was glazed and distant as she stared out the window at the decrepit little backyard, her eyes, it would seem, taking in little of the rotting flowerbeds and dying bushes that stood there.
Severus frowned.
He wondered how many people could actually say they knew Rosalie Potter. She was such a study of contradictions, of strength and fragility. She was stubborn, argumentative and outspoken, and yet to anyone who cared to look, she was still so insecure in herself and her own self worth. He doubted many saw past the carefree persona she’d purposefully cultivated, most probably wouldn’t think to look.
In that moment, however, Severus understood her perfectly. He knew exactly how she felt. He was all too familiar with the crushing feeling of guilt one experienced after killing another human being—especially that first time. It was a feeling he didn’t let himself reminisce over when he could at all help it. Yet, after witnessing the scene he’d walked in on when he’d found her just the previous night—blood all over her bed sheets, all over her, the ring of bruises around her neck, the tortured look in her eyes and that bastard lying on the floor with his pants open, her undergarments still clutched in his hands—it was obvious what had happened, or what had at least almost happened, and Severus knew he would have gladly done more than shove a knife in the bastard’s neck if he’d walked in a moment or two earlier.
“Miss Potter,” He called evenly, his tone neutral, giving nothing of his inner musings away.
She flinched in her chair and turned to face him, a startled look on her face, “I didn’t hear you come in, Sir.”
Severus took a couple of steps forward, detaching himself from the shadows of the room as he moved to stand at her side. He could see the sun setting through the window before them, sending out bursts of rich colour across the sky and lighting up the dreary library with a bright orange glow that made the room look like it was somehow on fire.
“You’ve spoken with the Headmaster?” He asked, his tone making the question sound more like a statement then in really was.
“I have. He told me my Aunt and Uncle are both dead, and that Dudley’s somehow survived and is with Madame Pomfrey. He said you were able send word to the Order last night warning them of the attacks before they occurred. I think... I might not have been so lucky if you hadn’t done that, sir; or that the Weasley’s might not have been able to save their home.”
Severus gave no indication that he was pleased by her acknowledgement, “Yes, that is the purpose of having a spy in the enemy’s camp, is it not? What I mean to talk to you about, however, is the Headmaster’s wish that I recommence training you.”
“Sir?” She asked in confusion, “I’ve been able to successfully shield my mind from Voldemort for months…”
“It is not Occlumency that the Headmaster wishes you to learn,” Severus replied, “We are satisfied with your progress in that arena. However, the Headmaster believes that learning Legilimency might prove beneficial to you in the near future. It is an invaluable skill to be able to claim and is necessary if one wishes to become a superior duellist.”
Rosalie swallowed uncomfortably, “You’re going to teach me Legilimency?”
Immediately her mind was awash with images of the events of her fifth year and her gross invasion of his privacy. They’d come to something of truce over the incident since then, which simply meant they didn’t speak of it to one another or in anyway acknowledge that it ever happened. Regardless of that fact though, she’d not once let herself forget what had happened and had always been mindful to never ever allow herself anywhere near his thoughts or memories again since. The few times she’d accidentally followed the connection back into his mind during her Occulmency sessions she was always quickly shut out before she saw anything and only if she hadn’t already withdrawn her mind first. It was the only way they’d been able to move past things and build a tentative trust between them, a trust that had grown into a genuine link between them over the past year. She trusted Severus Snape with her life and thought he’d never admit it, the fact that he was even offering to teach her Legilimency told her he at least trusted her with his memories and thoughts, something she doubted many others could claim.
Severus nodded, “Legilimency, as opposed to Occlumency, is in fact easier to learn. The difficulty does not lie so much in learning the skill, as in refining it. For Legilimency to be of any benefit to you, you will need to learn how to gain access to someone’s mind with a subtlety and delicacy that few have the patience to learn.”
Rosalie nodded, already dreading the lessons ahead. Subtlety and delicacy were neither of them traits she considered strong points in her personality and she had a feeling that things would progress slowly because of it.
“The Headmaster also mentioned his wish for you to commence training in advanced defensive and offensive magic which I believe Lupin, and no doubt one or two other members of the Order, will assist with instructing you in,” he continued, “I understand your birthday is rapidly approaching and the underage magic ban will soon be lifted. Until then, we are to use the sunroom at the rear of the house for our lessons. The Headmaster will ward the room to prevent the underage magic trace sensing your magic until that time.”
“Yes, sir. When do we start?”
“As soon as the training room can be arranged,” Severus told her.
Rosalie nodded, holding in her sigh until he’d turned and left the room.
There was nothing Snape valued more than his privacy and embarking on lessons in Legilimency with him felt like they were playing with fire, Snape’s skills as an Occlumens aside. She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this tentative working relationship they seemed to have developed during her Occlumency lessons over the past year. Snape had only just started treating her like she was an individual with half a brain and this had the potential to ruin everything they’d built together.

Almost as soon as Snape had left her side she was joined by Ron and Hermione. The bushy brunette looked strained and worried and wrapped her up in tight hug the moment she stood to greet them. Rosalie hugged her back just as fiercely for a moment before stepping back to offer them both a small smile.
“Hey,” she greeted softly.
“Hey yourself,” Ron returned, “You alright? I heard you were really shaken up about things last night.”
Rosalie nodded, “I’m fine. How are you? I heard Death Eater’s attacked your house.”
“They tried,” Ron agreed, “Luckily most of the Order showed up before they were able to do much damage. Dumbledore helped Mum and Dad strengthen the wards surrounding the property so the house is still pretty much intact, the backroom just got a new doorway blasted into it.”
Hermione nodded her agreement, “The Order sent someone out to our house too, just in case. I’m going to be staying at the Burrow for the summer since Mum and Dad decided to get out of the country for a while.”
“It’s all happening, isn’t it?” Ron said quietly after a moment, his voice sounding a bit overwhelmed by everything.
Rosalie nodded, “Seems like it.”
Malfoy letting Death Eaters into the school at the end of the previous year seemed like the catalyst to all out war. Since then there had been a number of attacks. Voldemort wasn’t hiding his tracks anymore and the Wizarding world was in an uproar over his return. People were scared and they were angry and they were doing stupid things in desperation.
“I’m sorry about your home, Ron,” Rosalie offered after a moment, “and that you can’t spend the summer with your family, Hermione.”
Ron frowned, “It’s not your fault, Rose!”
Rosalie shook her head, “I was the focus of the attacks though. They were looking for me. Dumbledore thinks that now Voldemort is out in the open he’s eager to get me out of the way so he can concentrate on his ‘real’ plans.”
Ron scoffed, “Just shows he’s a raging lunatic, if you ask me. At least you’ll be safe at the Burrow. The wards Dumbledore helped Mum and Dad put up are super strong. The house is unplottable.”
Hermione shook her head, “Only for those who don’t already know where it is.”
“Meaning?” Ron prompted, looking at Hermione for an explanation.
“That the Death Eater’s who attacked you house could come back if they wanted to,” Hermione informed him.
“Yeah, but even if they did, they can’t get in,” Ron assured her.
“Maybe...I’m still not allowed to come, though,” Rosalie offered, derailing the brewing argument between her two best friends.
Ron’s head snapped around to stare at her, “What!?”
“I didn’t think you would be,” Hermione agreed.
“Why not?” Ron demanded, his cheeks turning red with anger, “You’ve always been safe at the Burrow!”
Rosalie shrugged uncomfortably, “Grimmauld Place is the safest place for me, since it’s under fidelius and Dumbledore’s secret keeper. No one can attack a place they can’t see. Not to mention no one even knows where it is to begin with.”
“So?”
“I’ve already been the cause of one attack on your home, Ron,” Rosalie told him plainly, “I don’t want to be the cause of another. I trust Dumbledore when he tells me this is the safest place he knows for me. Plus he wants me to start taking lessons in offensive and defensive magic.”
At that Ron deflated somewhat, although he still looked pissed that Rosalie would have to stay at Grimmauld Place by herself, “I heard dad say you’re starting training with Snape.”
Rosalie fought the urge to sigh at the venom that laced her best friend’s voice when he said Snape’s name.
“And Remus,” Rosalie agreed with a nod, “I don’t know who else yet.”
“I can’t believe Dumbledore is making Snape teach you. You can bet he’ll use it as an excuse to flay you alive,” Ron groused.
Rosalie shrugged, “I don’t mind. Really. For the most part, Snape and I get along nowadays.”
“Really, Ron, Professor Snape has worked with Rose practically all year!” Hermione chided, “You’d think you’d be used to the idea by now.”
“But he hates, Rose,” Ron pushed.
“He does not,” Hermione argued.
Rosalie sighed, “It doesn’t matter what he feels. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“But Snape?” Ron asked in disbelief.
“I’d imagine he’d be the best man for the job, actually,” Hermione told him matter-of-factly, “Who better to teach Rose exactly what to expect from Death Eaters or You-Know-Who?”
“Yeah, great idea! Who better to teach you about Death Eaters than a Death Eater?” Ron grumbled sarcastically, “maybe we should ask to take lessons too?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Rosalie agreed, “I’m sure Remus would be more than happy to teach you too.”
Ron frowned at her, “It’s not Remus I want to keep an eye on.”
Rosalie frowned, “Well, I’m not sure Snape would let you join his lessons. Dumbledore wants him to teach me Legilimency. It’s supposed to improve your skill as a duellist, or something.”
Hermione nodded, “I can see that. Being able to read your opponents mind would help you anticipate their moves.”
Rosalie nodded.
“So? He can’t teach us too?” Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head, “You can’t learn Legilimency without first learning the art of Occlumency. It’s all quiet complicated really, but in order to be able to penetrate someone’s mind, you have to be able to maintain a tight control on your own first so that you do not end up projecting your own thoughts, or so I understand from one of the books I found in the library.”
“At school?” Rosalie asked curiously.
“No actually, here,” Hermione smiled indicating to the library of books behind her, “I went looking for information in the summer after our fifth year. Most of the books here are about Dark magic and rituals, but there is one or two that are actually quite informative.”
“Can you show me?” Rosalie asked, “I wouldn’t mind walking into this a little more prepared that I was last time around.”
Hermione grinned at her, “Of course.”
Ron sighed, “I just don’t like the idea of you having to spend all that time alone with Snape of all people. He’s a right bastard to you most of the time.”
Rosalie smiled and gave her friend a quick hug. His arms wrapped around her easily and he squeezed her back. It was true, Snape had been a bastard to her the majority of the time they had worked together, but things had improved over the last couple of months and spending time with him now wasn’t nearly as painful as it had once been. In fact at times she’d even come to appreciate his humour, subtle though it was, though she’d never admit it to Ron while she valued her hearing.
“It’s not like where not going to be visiting every single day,” Hermione told their friend, “You’ll be able to keep an eye on Professor Snape if you’re really that worried, Ron. Perhaps I can even research that spell to link two mirrors so we can communicate with one another without sending owls?”
Rosalie smiled encouragingly, though her heart ached at the reminder of Sirius.
Ron visibly brightened at the prospect, “It’ll just suck not having you around all summer.”
Rosalie sighed, “I know.”
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