Waltz By The Water PV Rosie Parker RPG+

Tonight was the night. The night that Rosie had been dreading but looking forward to at the same time. The night had Rosie had been thinking about ever since the incident, which honestly should’ve destroyed a friendship.

But this young Hufflepuff couldn’t let someone go like Anatole Evans. Her best friend.

There was no doubt in her mind that what Anatole had done was terrible. It was a terrible assumption. Everything about what had happened? Terrible. It had brought Rosie’s confidence down so many levels. On one hand, it was his fault. Anatole shouldn’t have assumed Rosie wanted a relationship, it was stupid. They were best friends! Why would they date? And not to mention, twelve. Unlike a certain Hufflepuff couple she had heard rumors about who decided not to wait until they were older to date. Gross. But on the other hand, Rosie never really did say what she meant. Maybe the idea of them... being like that made her heart jump a bit, out of disgust, obviously. Right? Right.

Anyways.

Maybe it was Rosie’s fault. It didn’t matter at this point. All that mattered was what she was doing now, and hopefully, he wasn’t too scared to come. During camp, the two passed, and Rosie lightly took his arm and whispered to him to meet him at the lake, without context. She didn’t even let him respond before she dashed away to her cabin. She was so nervous. What if he was mad at her? For some... Odd reason. Rosie didn’t know. It was paranoia.

So, she planned. Rosie paced in her room and thought about what she wanted to say. It made her head hurt. Why was this stressing her out so much? Why was she so scared? Why was she rehearing her lines like it was some sort of play? And that’s when Rosie realized why. This guy was her best friend. Why wouldn’t she be scared to lose him? It was obvious enough. So, that meant Rosie knew him. And she knew Anatole wouldn’t care for some long, sappy, annoying speech. Rosie knew exactly what to do.

So that brought her to the night. Rosie was walking down the grass in her bare feet, the wind blowing softly against her hair. It felt nice against her skin since it had been so hot. She moved her hair behind her ear and walked up to the lake, gazing across the horizon. As usual, the water was beautiful. No doubt about that. She smoothed out her skirt and gasped softly when she heard footsteps. He was here.

Rosie turned towards him. The nervous prince. He looked... worried. Honestly, Rosie couldn’t blame him. Her gaze was soft, and reassuring. She walked over to him slowly, her hands still shaking a little bit. Deep breaths. It’ll be fine. You guys are best friends. Best friends are supposed to love each other, right?

Rosie finally faced him, and held out her hands towards him, palms up. “... You owe me a dance.” She finally said, her green eyes low and hesitant.

Hopefully, all would be well.

It was the subtle things that made all the difference: the way she turned her head to look behind her, the way she rose to her feet, even the way her skirt reacted. She was adorable, and Anatole easily believed he was not only fortunate enough to come to this school, but fortunate enough to gain a friend like her off the block. She was adorable.

His breaths were shaky as he stood there, anxious for a reply. She'd say something terrible, wouldn't she? Something just enough to make him mad. Oh, and of course she'd shove him in the lake! Didn't he deserve it?

Yes, yes he did.

He was twelve for God's sake, and most likely the only boy who thought about love at this age. Yeah, it was gross, but if someone came at him saying anything remotely romantic, he was more than obliged to deny, right? Of course! Why would he not? Twelve was all too early to consider something as serious as that! It all made sense...and if so, then why did she make such a huge deal about it? It made no sense why she'd go through making Anatole's heart practically burst out of his chest from fear that he had messed up her life forever or some sort of overdramatic mindset. It was crazy.

His heart had kept thumping out of his chest and into his neck just sitting in his dorm, knowing he would have to come out here. It was gross to think about, but oddly true.

And now here she was, holding out her slender hand. "...You owe me a dance."

Wait...what? For a second, he swore that she would scream at him for doing everything wrong...again. She would make him feel bad again, and it would just be a lake meeting of sadness. Depressing, right?

Thankfully, she was casting light on the situation like a vibrant moon. It was wonderful, and Anatole couldn't deny her hand. Looking into her eyes, he took it, like a gentleman, snickering at her and then kissing her hand. "Oh...um...okay. Let's do this old-fashioned...sure." He wanted this to be happy. He needed to be happy; in fact, he had been happy since the bonfire. He couldn't slip it up now.

He grasped her hand and slid his palm around her back, placing the other on her dainty, delicate shoulder. Anatole hadn't cared much about his appearance, but it was an amazing dream as he imagined them in the ballroom, where they should have been this whole time. He began to regret not dancing with her before, and there was no way this could make up for what he did to her, probably, but hey, he would give it his best shot.

To and fro. To and fro.

He led her, step by step, around the lake in a graceful waltz. Anatole had been klutzy and rusty from weeks and weeks of not dancing but he quickly recovered anytime he was about to catch the freedom of falling. She had him if he fell, and Anatole knew he would have her too.

Sure, it had been tough, but that didn't mean they couldn't still be friends.

After what felt like endless moments entranced in this wonderful waltz, he pulled her to a stop with one final turn. It felt like there was gold all around her, from the bits of her toes to her golden fingertips. It seemed like it was all an illusion when they danced, and now that it had ended, Anatole was back in reality. The lake reappeared before him and he still felt the dew clinging to his shoes. With an anxious breath, he let it out and let go of her. "Wow...well...that was...fun, I guess." He blushed, scratching the back of his neck and looking back at her.

To Rosie’s pleasant surprise, Anatole accepted her request to dance. And to surprise her even more, he took her hand with a smirk and kissed it. Rosie’s face flushed red and she smiled, her heart fluttering. It’s like all of the anger and embarrassment she had felt with him washed away like a river. She was so mad, but not now. She pulled her best friend closer to her, her cheeks pink. Why was she so nervous all of the studden?

At first, Rosie didn’t like the idea of being a princess, cause people always thought of them as fragile little girls, but not Rosie. She was a princess, but a strong one, an independent one. And just so happened, to have a best friend as a prince.

The water from the grass soaked her feet, but Rosie couldn’t care less at that point. He guided her around like he was meant to, twirling and turning. Rosie had a smile on her face the entire time, she felt so, so safe. Usually that’s how it was when Rosie was with her friends.

Friend..

Rosie hadn’t even thought about Anatole as a friend until a couple days ago, all she knew was embarrassment. Did Anatole even wanna be her friend at that point? Would he be too grossed out by her? Rosie knew what he thought wasn’t true, but regardless...

The final turn was the best one. Rosie looked at Anatole before letting out a giggle. “Wow.” She mumbled, squeezing his hand lightly in appreciation.

Anatole awkwardly showed his appreciation for the dance, and Rosie smiled brighter. What a cutie. If there was anything Rosie thought about her friends, they were all adorable. Him, especially. And Serena.

“Yeah, it was.” Rosie nodded before fiddling with her hands. “Look, I...” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I made a big deal out of it, it’s my fault.” She mumbled, looking down at the ground in shame. ”I get if you don’t wanna be friends with me anymore, I know I made a big deal out of it. What you thought, it wasn’t true, but... Still. I’m sorry.” she sadly said, closing her eyes as she prepared for Anatole to let her have it. For him to say she was to dramatic, for some reason, it was her fault. Rosie barely even knew what she had to be sorry for.

But no matter how hard she tried, Rosie couldn’t blame Anatole for what happened. Some would call her dumb, and she was. But Rosie couldn’t find it in her heart to be mad at a lot of people.

"Wow."

Her words said it all: Wow. It felt incredible to dance again and not trip for once. Of course, it was a little bad on his formerly sprained ankle from the Lock-In, but Anatole was able to power through whatever was hurting him, whether it be physical or emotional. She was worth it, anyways.

Their turns were the best they had ever been, which was odd, concerning it was both pretty dark and Anatole was slightly injured. They hadn't practiced in weeks, especially since the ball. They hadn't talked to each other since then. Anatole had been pretty much observing it from afar, feeling the sting of guilt from every glance her way. For a while, he had disliked seeing her curls bob down the way and despised the way she was able to hide her sadness through a group of trusted friends. Maybe he needed to try that next time. Friendship seemed alright.

Everything seemed to have fallen in line for the formidable young gentleman. First, he had made it out of the Lock-In alive. It was much more of a blessing than a curse to come out with nothing more than a sprained ankle and the crippling guilt of wounding four people. It had been fun, and all, but he had missed her since they took separate paths. Second, he had obtained the role of Prefect and now held authority over the boys in his dorm.

And third, she said sorry.

It was an enchanting word, "sorry". An apology he had never expected to hear. It kept him in and got him to want more, wanted her to say why she felt at fault and in pain. Sorry was a word that someone said when they hurt someone...and did Rosie hurt him? Oh, of course she did - but it was locked beneath the surface. It was minor and unnecessary; it was a wound devoid of attention. It didn't need it anyways. Princes didn't let it get to their head.

But in the end, he was the one who should be saying sorry.

He tried to suppress his anxiety by looking at her. The dance had let most of it free, but there was still the sensation of denial, bit by bit being alleviated in his gut. It was alright. It was alright.

"No, no...it's not your fault." He had let the silence linger too long. Not caring much about the dew-drenched lawn, Anatole took a seat by the glassy lake, surrounded by a faint mist riding off of the water. "I was weird. Yeah. I guess." Anatole crossed his legs. "If you think you made a big deal about it, apparently you don't know me!" He joked, smiling up at her. "C'mon down here. The grass isn't soaking, and we're going to change right after this." He placed his hand beside him, asking her to come to his level. Then, they could talk. His feet were hurting from all the standing anyways.

Rosie caught Anatole's face dropping when she said sorry. What he meant by that, maybe she'd never know. Did he agree with her apology? Did he feel guilty? Rosie felt guilty, but she didn't know what for. Maybe she not phrasing her request in a way that would suit him. But she knew the whole sexist ordeal, girls had to please boys in anyway possible, and Rosie didn't dig that in the slightest! She hoped that Anatole, for one, wasn't sexist, and two, expected her to act the way he wanted her to.

But finally, Anatole uttered the words Rosie didn't expect him to. Rosie was... Wrong? She was wrong? She was confused. Rosie had thought it was her fault, all along, but according to Anatole, it wasn't. When Anatole mentioned that she must've not know him, she wrinkled her nose. Rosie was a little offended. How dare he say she didn't know him? Rosie probably knew him better than anyone in Hogwarts! She put that frustration back in her mind for a later day. She sighed and watched him sit down, patting the spot next to him. Well, it was wet. She could easily change. Rosie was a bit disappointed about ruining her skirt. Wait. She was disappointed in ruining her skirt? That was new, considering she usually didn't care. It must've been from hanging around pure bloods for her friend group. Weird.

Rosie sat down next to him, and glanced at the boy sitting next to her. The way the moon seemed to shine on the two felt like a spotlight, showing that the moment was theirs. She blinked a few times before looking at the grass in a moment of nervousness. Maybe it was out of impulse, but Rosie reached over and took his hand gently. "This isn't a confession, before you freak out." She said, holding it softly. "I do wanna say, that I am sorry for freaking out so bad. I was scared we wouldn't be friends again, and I was too scared to ask you about it. That's why I haven't been talking to you. You're not mad, are you?"