Los Angeles
The ocean here was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was her first glimpse of the Pacific, and it had come with swimming lessons. Rose had never learned how to swim properly, as Aunt Petunia hadn’t wanted to pay the twenty five quid for lessons. The second task of the Triwizard Tournament had been a fluke. As it turned out, swimming was natural when one was equipped with gills and flippers – neither of which she had at the moment. The swimming lessons were not going well. Rose spat out a mouthful of salt water and groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the rolling waves to stare up at the sky.
“I think I’ll just do this,” she gasped, floating on her back. “Who needs to swim when you can float? We should all just do this.”
“You’re right,” said a deep voice. “Are you getting eaten by a shark first or am I?” Rose righted herself to glare at the owner of said voice. Kieran was treading water a few feet away from her, looking entirely too handsome for his own good. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm golden, making the tattoos on his chest and arms stand out starkly. He was maddeningly attractive. Privately, she thought that she’d have had more success with learning to swim if she wasn’t so distracted. She wanted to lick the water droplets off of his chest.
“Don’t be a git, Campbell,” grumbled Rose, paddling over to him with great difficulty. “Can we go back to shore?”
“Climb on then,” he sighed, turning around so she could cling to his broad back like a koala.
“Giddy up,” mumbled Rose inanely into the warm skin of his back, giggling as he started swimming back to the beach. Soon enough, she was deposited back onto the damp sand. Her hair was stiff with salt and she felt herself burning a little where the sunscreen was wearing off, but she felt loose, relaxed and happy. They got back to the little section of beach they had claimed – subtly warded to repel thieves and other people – and settled underneath the umbrella. Rose pulled out the basket she had packed from the handbag that Hermione had graciously charmed for her months ago.
“What did you bring for lunch?” asked Kieran, eyeing the basket curiously.
“Just sandwiches,” she shrugged. “Ham and cheese, not too fancy. There’s some fruit as well. I bought it off this vendor who sells near my rental.”
They’d spent the better part of the morning at the beach, enjoying each other’s company in person after a month and a half. After they had parted ways in Rome, Rose had tentatively sent Kieran a letter. He’d sent one back, and they’d started a regular correspondence. She knew him better than anyone except Ron and Hermione now; his hopes, his dreams, the things that haunted him, all committed to heavy parchment and sent away on the leg of an owl. She’d told him about herself as well. Not all the heavy stuff – he still didn’t know about her death in the Forbidden Forest or the finer details of her abusive childhood – but he knew the most important parts.
It was utterly terrifying to be so vulnerable.
When Kieran had gotten some time off after his last job in Peru, Rose had shyly asked if he wanted to visit her where she was staying in California. She hadn’t planned on staying here long term, but something about the warm weather and friendly people had compelled her to extend her trip. It helped that she had a new project.
Sometime between leaving Europe and coming to California, Rose had picked up a book on wandlore. Despite all the nonsense with the Elder wand, the brother wands and the general matter of a wand being integral to her existence as a witch, she’d never cared to learn more about how or why a wand actually worked. She’d never bothered to learn about many things, too caught up in staying alive to care about anything academic. Now that she had space to breathe, however, she realized that wandlore was fascinating.
On Andromeda’s recommendation, she’d begun meditating and connecting with her magic on a deeper level so she could improve her wandless magic. It had improved in leaps and bounds; an increased awareness of her own magic also translated to the outside world, where she could feel the buzz of magic in enchanted objects or in nature itself. So, when she was walking through one of the numerous national parks in the United States and found a slim branch of wood that was positively brimming with magical potential, she pocketed it.
A week or so later while she was exploring the magical district in Salem, she came across a little menagerie. They had all manners of beasts, but more interestingly, a small section where they sold animal parts for cheap. Feathers, shed skin, bones, nail clippings, etc. Rose stretched her newfound awareness and was immediately drawn to a long, thin feather that was an unremarkable shade of gray. Hippogriff feather, she was told while purchasing. That was when she remembered the stick she’d felt compelled to keep while wandering the woods.
When she’d put the feather and the stick next to each other, both had warmed to the touch. So, she’d thought: could I make this a wand? Relying entirely on her intuition, Rose had gotten to work. She’d Transfigured a butter knife into a sharp blade and split the wood down the middle carefully, and hollowed out the inside until there was enough room to tuck the hippogriff feather in. She sent a thin stream of magic down the shaft of the wood, watching in awe as the feather shone briefly, the magic of the two components becoming harmonious. She murmured a Sealing charm and smoothed her fingers over the cracked wood, watching as it closed over. The wood was whole, but it was dry and cracked over. Pulling out some of the rosemary oil she used for her hair, she oiled the wood carefully, wishing away the imperfections in the wood with a spark of magic.
The result was twelve inches of white oak with a hippogriff feather core, fairly swishy. She gave it a little wave and laughed in delight as it emitted red and gold sparkles. She tried a few spells – first year stuff and little optical illusions she used to entertain Teddy. It wasn’t a strong wand for her, but it worked. For the first time since she’d walked to her death, Rose felt passionate about something. The satisfaction of holding something that she’d made with her own hands and magic was like none other. For once, she was creating instead of destroying. From that moment, she’d taken to collecting things on her travels; twigs, feathers, bits of plants that glowed with magic.
She hadn’t told anyone about her experiments; hadn’t breathed a word of it even to Kieran. She wanted to tell him though – she wanted to tell someone and have them be proud of her. It was scary, but looking at Kieran’s warm eyes and relaxed countenance she felt better about it. That night, both of them were slightly tipsy off of cheap wine on the couch of Rose’ rental when she got the courage to tell him about it.
“Hey, I have to show you something,” she said, nudging his shoulder. Kieran blinked up at her sleepily and tilted his head, a clear indication for her to go on. “Um, so a couple weeks ago, I was walking in the woods and I found this bit of white oak on the ground. Something about it just called to me and I couldn’t get it out of my head, and then I found this hippogriff feather in a shop in Salem and that also felt interesting, like warm and buzzy and special, you know, so I made this.” She heaved herself off the couch and went to get the wands she’d made. Settling back on the couch, she thrust the hippogriff feather wand at him.
Kieran took it from her and rolled it in his hands, examining the wand wordlessly. Rose watched him, every muscle in her body tensed. She had dealt with a lot of disappointment in her life, but if Kieran made fun of her right now, it would be devastating. “You made this?” he asked, looking up at her with awe. He waved it and a stream of water arced out of the tip.
“Yeah,” said Rose, feeling her cheeks heat up. “It’s not a super strong wand but it’s not bad for a first attempt, I think.”
“Not bad?” spluttered Kieran, taking her hands in his. “Rose, this is – this is brilliant! Do you know how many people could successfully make a wand from scratch? You’ve got to have the magic sensing abilities to detect sympathetic materials, and then you’ve got to have enough magic and skill to embed the core, and then you’ve got to have the wandless magic to seal the wand and then you’ve got to actually make it do magic and then–”
“Alright, alright, it’s a good wand,” laughed Rose, cutting him off. “Does it work for you?”
“Not as well as the wand I got at eleven, but it definitely does magic,” he grinned, waving it again to produce red sparks. “Made any more?”
“Yeah, actually,” she said. She’d made two more wands since the first: aspen and boomslang bone, birch and shrivelfig leaves mixed in glumbumble beeswax. The last had been something of a gamble on her part, as all the wands she’d heard of had had animal parts for cores. Her theory that the core just had to have innate magical properties had paid off – the wand worked. She showed him the other two, and he took his time looking them over.
“What’s in this one?” he asked, holding up the birch wand. “It looks weird, magically speaking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That was an experiment,” said Rose. “The core is shrivelfig leaves that I crushed up and mixed with glumbumble beeswax.”
“Beeswax!” exclaimed Kieran in disbelief, waving the wand. A weak trickle of green sparks came out. “It doesn’t like me much, but it might be good for someone else. I didn’t even know you could make wands with cores other than phoenix feathers, dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair.”
“Apparently that’s just Ollivander,” said Rose, shaking her head. “Wandmakers in different places use all sorts of wand cores, but usually they’re some sort of animal part. I’ve been experimenting with cores that aren’t from animals but have innate magical properties. That’s my first successful attempt.”
Kieran put the wands on the coffee table and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight against his chest. “You’re so talented,” he said. Rose felt something warm glow in her chest at the praise and she burrowed closer.
“Really?” she mumbled into his chest, fingers curling in his shirt. She’d never been smart – that was always Hermione. Rose was reckless, brave and incredibly lucky. She had power, but that was it. To hear that someone thought that she was talented, that she had more to offer than being a weapon – it felt good.
“Really, sweetheart,” he said kissing her hair. “Is this what you want to do when you go back to England? Make wands?”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning back to look him in the eye. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to be brilliant, whether you become a wandmaker or not,” he said sincerely, cupping her face and pulling her down into a kiss. She hooked a leg over his hip and pulled herself into his lap, straddling his thighs to kiss him properly. Rose had met Kieran in person exactly twice before this, but against all odds she trusted him.
“Kieran,” she gasped, breaking away for a moment to catch her breath. His lips moved to her neck where he sucked a bruise into the sensitive skin.
"Rose?” he said hoarsely, looking up at her with dark eyes. Rose felt a shiver of excitement up her spine.
“I want you,” she said in a low tone.
“Are you sure? You want me to be your first?” he asked, running a warm hand up her spine.
“Yes,” she said, voice only shaking a bit from the nerves. “I want it to be you. I trust you.”
“I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he said softly.
“I know,” she responded, kissing him sweetly. “Take me to bed.”
“As you wish, my lady.”