Rose's POV

I often felt like I was two different people. The person everyone saw me as, some girl, who may or may not have been sleeping with half the guys in school. Some girl, pretty and smart and carefree, pining after James Potter. Well, I suppose that last part was true anyway. I knew perfectly well what people thought of me and I did nothing to stop it. For the truth was, I honestly didn't care. Their whims were small and inconsequential in the long run. If I was being perfectly honest, I probably wouldn't live long enough for their thoughts to even touch me. There were remarkably few people that I cared what they thought of me.

Sometimes everything I did felt like a charade. All part of what Dumbledore would say was, "for the greater good." I didn't like the thought really. All that mattered was what the end result was. I had to repeat this to myself so often that it felt tired and overused. What did the end result matter if I wasn't around to enjoy it? But that wasn't true either, I didn't think like that. What really mattered was that James was around to enjoy it, life without the constant threat of death hanging over his head. My life be damned.

I sighed, running a hand through my wild red hair. I stood forcing a cheery smile on my face and headed down to breakfast. It was hard some days, after all the other girls had left to make myself peppy and cheery. To put a welcoming smile on my face and act like I didn't have a care in the world. Hard, but worth it in the end. I hoped.

I hopped down the last step to the entry hall and skipped in to breakfast, sliding happily into the seat beside James, who was staring forlornly into a bowl of cereal. He gave me a smile when I entered though, and even managed a groggy sort of hello. I smiled at the attempt. Everything I was doing was for James. Everything.

I often felt like James was the only one who knew the real me, which was ridiculous because most of the time he hardly knew me at all. But when it was just James and I, I felt like I could tell him anything. Be anyone, be me. Which would also be ridiculous because it would put him in far too much danger.

I lay my hand on top of his on the table, glad for its warmth under my own pale, cold hand.

"Sheesh, Rose," he said drawing his hand away, "Your hands are freezing."

I looked at him with a wounded expression, already missing the warmth of his hand under my own. Seeing this he frowned, taking both of his hands to cup my own between them. He smiled warmly.

"Better?" he asked.

I let out a brilliant smile, letting happiness shine across his face. James would never intentionally hurt me. I knew that. And it made me shine from the inside out. All it took was just as simple of a gesture as cupping my hand in his own. Things were almost always extraordinarily complicated with James; it was nice when it could be just that simple.

I smiled, pulling him up from the table, even though I hadn't eaten a bite. He looked at me confused, but followed the tugging of my hand out of the Great Hall and into an empty classroom. He looked befuddled as I let of his hand and hopped on top of a desk, sliding back until my knees hit the edge.

"We seriously need to talk, James."

"I'm worried about you," I started, "are you okay?"

He frowned, but moved to sit beside me.

"There's just a different feeling in the air this year. Everything is different, and the darkness seems to be lurking just around the corridor. It scares me, it makes me feel insignificant. I want to help. In anyway that I can. I'm tired of being the popular boy in school, smart, but useful only for playing complex pranks. I want to make a difference in this world."

Help. The word froze in my stomach. Stopped my breathing. James didn't know. Couldn't possibly know how dangerous it was out there. It wasn't safe. Not for me and most certainly not for him. What could I say to him? That he was better safe in here? That it was far to dangerous? How could I make him understand?

"You will help, someday. You're absolutely brilliant James. Don't ever think yourself useless."

"But I am don't you see. People are dying. Maria is dead and I'm sitting here doing nothing."

He put his head in his head, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes. I leaned my head closer to his and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. I could feel him shudder and breathe in and out heavily.

"I will help," he said, and looked at me, hazel eyes so intense and burning that I could almost see the fire brimming in his eyes, "anyway that I can."

And that's when I knew. He could help. Really could. I hated that, and I loved it. I wouldn't love him if he couldn't, or wouldn't, but because I loved him, I hated the idea of putting him in danger. But he would find it anyway, and I would need to help him in any way that I could.

But how could I tell him. How did you go about telling someone a secret that you had kept from them? It seemed to me, that in all the books, the person was always caught in the middle of the lie. How could I tell him I wasn't who he thought I was? That I was doing what he wanted to do. That I was helping, that Dumbledore trusted me more than him, Dumbledore's golden boy.

"I'll help you train if you like," I say so suddenly, that I surprise even myself.

"You, Rose, what do you mean?" he looks so positively bewildered that I can't escape the giggle that comes bubbling up my throat.

And suddenly I'm laughing so hard I can't believe myself. It was one of those moments that something isn't funny, and yet… you can't stop laughing. James didn't really know whether to be relieved or entirely more confused as I leaned into him, my side aching.

And of course, because life is ironic this way, that is the exact moment that Lily Evans walks in. Her face was red and her eyes were swollen and it was incredibly obvious that she'd been crying. She wasn't one of those people that looked pretty when they cried, which surprised me. She just looked sad and pathetic. And her face twisted with rage when she saw us.

And I admit I could see what it seemed like. Half the people in the school thought that James and I were a thing. And then here we were, me practically sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around me to steady my laughter. My face bright red, a smile fading from my face. James's glasses askew on his nose. I could see what she was thinking.

But by god, it wasn't like that. James wasn't like that. But of course she didn't know that. And how it enraged her. I could see the rage twisting in her eyes. And suddenly she was gone, the door slamming behind her, leaving a sudden emptiness in the room. And James's embrace was cold and as I twisted around to face him, I could see anguish twisting his features. And he pushed me away, unwrapping his arms from around my shoulder. And I knew that this time it was him that was hurt.

And suddenly I was gone. Racing out the door and down the hallway.

"Lily, wait!" I was calling, and the only thought in my mind was of fixing things between them.

She didn't stop and I had to speed up, flying past the few people who weren't at dinner. I caught up with her and tried to put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. She stopped abruptly and spun around so quickly that I almost ran into her.

"What?" she said, trying to sound snappy, but she just looked sad and pathetic, and her eyes were running and she looked horrible and suddenly I didn't know what to say, how to explain it.

"It wasn't what it looked like, really."

"Yeah," Lily said, wiping her eyes on the corner of her robe, "sure."

"He doesn't love me, not at all."

"Yeah, he does," she said, sniffling, "you may not think so, but I've seen the way he acts around you."

"I think I know him a little better than you, and I can tell you, he loves you. Trust me."

And suddenly I felt like crying too. Why should I comfort her? Why should I push to the front of my mind how much more he loved her? Why should I remind myself that I was only second best compared to Lily Evans?

"It's not like I care or anything," Lily said, sniffling, but she wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all herself.

"Come on," I said, despite the fact that all I wanted to do was leave.

I took her hand and pulled her after me, stopping at a tiny alcove and pulling the candlestick out and twisting it counter-clockwise. There was a satisfying click and a section of the wall peeled back revealing a little room. The room was tiny, with only a couch, a chair and a fireplace, which I flicked my wand at causing it to light.

I lead her in to the room, sitting in the chair and gesturing for her to take the couch. She looked at me suspiciously, but settled down, tucking her legs beneath her.

"Now what's really up?" I asked her.

"A town where I grew up, near where my parents lived now was just attacked. It-" she hesitated here, as if to judge whether she could trust me, "it scared me. I'm scared I'm going to wake up one day and everyone I know will be dead, and I will always wonder if I could have saved them, or done something differently. I don't know. I suppose you could say I'm afraid I'm going to die alone."

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

She frowned, confused, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, don't be alone. Expand your horizons, fall in love. Be free. Celebrate. Let go of your fear, until it is needed. For as soon as you leave these walls you are no longer a child, there are things that are expected of you. So live while you can, and then do what you must when you are older."

She was silent for a long while, but I noticed that her tears had stopped running and her face was returning to it's normal color. And then suddenly, out of the blue.

"Would you let me have him, if I wanted him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," I said, "I want him to be happy. I want him to really be in love, and I know that he wouldn't be if he forced himself to be with me. I don't want you to have him, but if you want him, he will always be yours."