Rose was having a day off. Now, don't get all flustered and amazed at it, but it was about time that she got out of the ministry for some alone time. Work had been rather boring lately, consisting mostly of paper work, as there hadn't been much ''dark'' activity going on. Rose, who felt like a complete ass for thinking so, was getting quite bored of sitting at the ministry all day. She was an Auror, for merlins sake! And a bloody good one at that.

And so, out of boredom and plain discontent, Rose had come to The Hogshead and was currently having a proper drink: no butterbeer for her, this was a specific time for a stiff, 10% beer. Not possible? Try mixing it with vodka, and other raw alcohol. Rose didn't just go over the top when it came to work and friends... alcohol was way up the list, too. Not many people knew that little piece of information, which is why she had decided to come to the Hogshead.

Yes, the Hogshead. Generally a sullen and stinking place that positively reeked with the stench of dark, untrustworthy wizards. And yet it was a favorite of Miss Weasley's. Mainly because of the potent stuff they served, and partially because it thrilled her to know that she could easily take down any thug that walked through that door. It also helped that none of her friends frequented the place, she certainly didn't want them to know about her 'dirty little habit'.

But for now she sat, skulking at the bar, with few other people in the tavern to bother or entertain her. The barman was even away from her, wiping the tables and deliberately ignoring her, as he wanted nothing to do with a ministry affiliate. A barman always had to be careful, even during the middle of the day, and this barman was no fool.

After all, a day off was a day off, wasn't it? Rose wasn't bothering anyone; in fact, she sat quietly, just brooding over her strange concoction, every so often taking a drink, and then resuming looking out into space. Despite the fact that her actions made her look like a barmy alcoholic, Rose was surprisingly well dressed. Keeping her black robes smart and pressed, she wore a deep red blouse and knee length pinstripe skirt. Her hair was just a little too messy for her liking, as if she had just rolled out of bed, but the damned locks refused to do as they were told, so she had to just live with it. A shiny surface behind the bar reminded the witch of her appearance, making her scowl with distaste, as she ran a hand through her unruly red locks.

Taking another sip, leaving the pint glass almost half empty, the petite witch just prayed that something would happen to get her out of this bored, slightly drunken reverie. She downed her glass and continued brooding, pondering whether she should stay there all day or attempt to do something constructive.