Sometimes, It Isn't Always a Happy Ending
Written by TheRightALTS (AL)
Author's Note: Based on the song, "Walk a Little Straighter" by Billy Currington. This story is written from Rose Potter's (former Weasley) perspective of her relationship with her father, Ron Weasley after he wrote her to visit him in St. Mungos. It deals with the hurt and problems that come along with alcoholism. This story is also heavily influenced by my personal perspective of my mother's relationship with her alcoholic father. Not really a happy ending story.
When I received that letter from my biological father informing me that he had Leukemia and asking if I could visit him in St. Mungos, all I wanted to do was throw the cursed letter in the fireplace and watch all those painful memories burn away. My Mum and Dad, Harry and Hermione Potter, had gotten a letter that same day from Ronald as well asking the same. I watched as she descended into sobs after reading it, putting her crying face into the crook of Dad's neck. I suspect those same memories I had come back to her as well.
I remember looking up to him, a hero from the Second Blood War with the Golden Trio. I remember reading the story books about how brave and heroic he was. But the man in those story books wasn't the man I knew as my father. I would sit by the door for hours waiting for him to come home and be the father I wished him to be. When he did get home, he would pass by, ignoring me to go pass out in his chair. My mum would look at me with a sympathetic smile before ushering me off to bed.
In my eyes, my mum was my hero by the time I turned five. Long gone was the waiting by the door for Ronald, telling him about my day with Mum, or asking how his day was. She stood up for herself and me when Ronald would get drunk and threaten to beat me. Back then, I never really thought anything was wrong between them other than Ronald's drinking problem. But when I sift through my memories now as a witch, I can tell that she would put up silencing wards when they fought or anything. However, I would always see her waving her wand over her face when she came to tuck me in.
By that time, she had stopped reading those bedtime storybooks about the Golden Trio, focusing rather on the stories about her and Harry. My hero worship slowly shifted to her childhood friend Harry, the Boy-Who-Won. I would dream that he would be the hero again and save me and Mum from Ronald. I remember asking Mum why he never came around to visit…
"Mummy, you tell me all these stories about Harry and how you were such good friends, why does he never come by to visit you?", my innocent 5 year old self would ask which would result in the almost immediate darkening of her face.
She would lift me up and place me on her knee while grabbing a photobook from a hidden shelf. She would always show me the pictures of Harry and her, telling me the stories behind why the pictures were taken. She would get to the last picture of her and him dancing around at the Ministry Ball. She looked so genuinely happy.
'You see Rose, when Harry and his girlfriend Ginny broke up, your dad took his sister's side. He said that it was either him or Harry. At that point, I was five months pregnant with you and I wanted to have a family. So, I took your dad's side and I have to live with the consequences." Mum said with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.
"Mummy, can I meet Harry?" I asked, hoping she would just let me. "I promise I won't tell Daddy."
"Alright sweet pea." She said…
That night we Floo called Harry, hoping he would answer while Ronald was out drinking and cheating on Mum.
BRRRRZZZZTT, BRRRZZZZTT.
"Potter Manor, this is Mipsy. Who is being calling?" a small elf voice called from the other side of the floo.
"Hi Mipsy, this is Hermione Granger. Can Harry talk?", my Mum asked
"Oh", the small voice responded, almost shocked at what she had heard. There was whispering on the other side of the floo, obviously Mipsey talking with another elf, "Mipsy is beings told yous being very mean to Master Harry. Master Harry is beings very busy. Not time to talk to the meaner known as Herininny Grangey."
The floo connection was cut off before my Mum could respond, but the damage was already done. She broke down in sobs, staring at the fireplace. She laid there for several hours, quietly crying into the carpet. Ronald got home at that point, obviously hammered. When he saw Mum crying by the fireplace, he knew what had happened.
"How dare you! How dare you try to contact HIM!" Ronald was never a smart man, much less a strong man. However, rage plus alcohol is not a good combination. This was the first I saw him hit my Mum. He blacked her eye before there was a loud crack outside our door followed by a sharp knock.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!?" Ronald screamed at the door before striking Mum again, causing her to scream.
This was obviously not the right thing for Ronald to do as that was followed a loud, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA", splintering our door across the hallway. Suddenly a raven haired, green eyed man ran into our house, brandishing a brown wand. Ron fell from a stunning spell before he could even raise his hands.
Harry was a Auror at the time, saving damsels in distress and stopping dark wizards. At least, that's what my 5-year-old self thought. Later, he would tell me that a lot of his time was spent shuffling papers trying to look busy or taking naps. But that night, he saved to damsels in distress. Ronald was arrested for domestic violence and sent to a minimum security prison for a few years.
That was the last time I had seen him until my graduation at Hogwarts. He stumbled in, sloshed beyond belief, and sat in the very front room. Not even five seats away from my parents. He would yell my name every time Professor McGonagall would call someone's name, embarrassing me and pissing offeveryone in attendance. Thinking I was at the end of the line as a Weasley, he began to get up to get more alcohol as my name was called.
"Potter, Rose", called Prof. McGonagall. Harry and Hermione jumped to their feet, clapping and celebrating, followed by my younger siblings doing the same. I smiled as I crossed the stage and grabbed my N.E.W.T. results.
"POTTER? THAT'sss my FUCKIN DAUGHTER!" Ronald screamed from his half standing/sitting stance, "Since when are yous a Potter?"
I stopped in my tracks. Staring at him, anger welling up inside me, I screamed back, "SINCE YOU ABANDONED MY MUM AND I IN FAVOR OF ALCOHOL. YOU BEAT HER AND LEFT SO HARRY BECAME THE FATHER TO ME HE DIDN'T HAVE TO BE! I HATED BEING A WEASLEY! YOU ARE A DISGRACE!"
The Great Hall was silent. I quickly shuffled off the stage to the waiting arms of my Dad and Mum. Mum quickly made a portkey and whisked us all away back home. That was the last time I saw or heard of him until the letter.
I visited him in hospital, without my parents or children. Alone. He was sober, well more like forced sobriety as the hospital didn't allow their patients to drink. It was quiet as I walked in, punctuated by the quiet beeping of a heart rate monitor and other medical devices. There was nobody in his room. The friends he had had abandoned him long ago.
"Rose", he managed to croak out. He wasn't doing well, I could tell. They had stopped blood transfusions a week ago I had heard from the nurse, "I just wanted to tell you… *he coughed* how proud of you I am. You are the only good thing I gave this world."
I just sat there, staring at him. I didn't have anything to say to him. Of course, I could explode and tell him how I hated him and deserved what happened to him. But we just looked at each other, "You have your mother's eyes and you have Harry's heart. I wish I could tell them sorry, but it seems they are content with letting me die alone… I guess I burnt that bridge a long time ago." He smiled sadly and I just stared at him.
I could smell the death on the sheets covering him. He was going to die here and I had nothing to say. The man who had beat my mother and ruined my graduation was laying in front of me and I just stared at him. "Goodbye, Ronald."
He turned his face towards he once again, "I love you sweetheart, goodbye." He looked towards the ceiling and closed his eyes.
I left right after that. Stood up and just walked out. He died later that evening according to the Daily Prophet, "Famed War Hero Dead". I suppose I should have thanked him. He gave me my Dad and I will be forever grateful for that. I guess some stories don't have a happy ending, but at least I got mine.