Disclaimer: This AU idea came to me as I sat there watching Cruel Intentions and playing Clue. Hate me for it; I think it's rather interesting, actually.
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you
I felt his body shift next to mine and although his room was large and gloomy, I almost felt safe. His room was horrifyingly gargantuan, tawdry in its size, even. It was probably larger than my stepmother's, although she was the dowager widow of the house.
It was strange how I had come to stay here. Undoubtedly my stepmother was a gold digger, but she had already been wealthy by the time she married my father.
I was not my father's natural child, although upon his adopting me, I had been Charmed to look so. I had been adopted at the tender age of two. I had already been weaned, at least, so we assumed I was two. My family was large and impoverished, and my parents had been destroyed by the last of the Dark Lord's supporters. The Great War of the Powers cleared the names of the wrongly accused and brought many of the guilty to justice. I know many details of my birth family, knowing that the family had been split between William and Charles: Bill, Percival and Ron had stayed in our hometown and lived with a family that had a son elder than my twin brothers who looked up to William and Percival. Charles, Fred and George had moved to Surrey to live with a younger witch that had lost her husband to the war that had taken our parents' lives.
The six brothers visited very often, meeting in London every time the eldest boys had to come or go to Hogwarts, or perhaps to shop. The young witch who cared for my more mischievous brothers was a very close friend of the recently cleared Sirius Black, who had the full custody of our hero, Harry Potter, so all six were also in close contact with him, as well.
The similarities between my brothers' new parents were far and few in between. They were good; hardworking people, and they loved boys. However, Bella Figg did not know how to raise a girl. She barely was one herself.
I was soon adopted by Maxwell Rockford, a dashing auburn-haired young man who had gone to school with my parents and had wanted a ward. However, his sister, a Mrs. Tamaris Zabini, had not wanted to give up her beloved daughter Mignonette.
Mr. Zabini was not exactly pleased; Maxwell would have taken care of all her expenses, Mignonette would have been able to entertain her guests in his home, and she would have inherited his fortune. Maxwell was a self-made man; Tamaris had relied on her charm, beauty and skills of ill repute to land the twice-married Mr. Zabini, who already had an heir to his own fortune and was very displeased with the birth of Mignonette. However, Mr. Zabini was not going to sacrifice his reputation yet again and stayed married to my Aunt Tamaris, on the condition that she live in their home in Southern France and that Mignonette attend Beauxbatons, a French magic school infamous for its focus on ambition, charm and illusion—it was for the con artists and wealthy alike.
So Maxwell adopted me. His girlfriend at the time, a Miss Lilly Tankirson, was repulsed at the sight of me. She said I was mousy and would never look beautiful.
At the time, she and Maxwell had been engaged for three years, and she wanted it to seem like I was their child. She had been a ravishing beauty I barely remembered, with her dark hair and twinkling green eyes. She snuck into Azkaban to purchase a bottle of Thestral's milk that would, with a strand of her hair and Maxwell's mixed in, make me permanently a perfect blend of the pair.
The beauty was at a most deadly cost- Thestrals were winged horses considered unlucky by many wizards and had the power of invisibility. The sale and ownership of Thestrals was illegal, as they were all to remain in a reserve, controlled as to insure that the Muggles never got a sight of them. They weren't to be bred, either, to insure the problem would be short-lived. The decision to make these creatures extinct was made after it was discovered that the horses the Dark Lord's followers had been using (all of which had been killed in the Great Thestral Massacre in Bulgaria) were indeed Thestrals. The witch who sold Lilly the last remaining bottle of Thestral's milk had been caught trying to take all of the Death Eaters' Thestrals to the reserve, thus proving her connection to them.
Upon their last visit to the orphanage I was housed at, Lilly snuck me away from Maxwell and the matron to feed me the bottle, knowing full well that the effects would slowly take place during the year after I had been given it. Although the pair had selected to keep my Christian name, Virginia Sabrina, they had nicknamed me Scarlet at a very young age.
Maxwell discovered this after I had turned five, and the couple's six-year engagement, as well as their eight-year relationship, severed. Maxwell couldn't believe his beloved England had let a vapid gold digger purchase the last source of an illegal substance. He moved us to Moon's Mead, a small magical town on an island whose economy was based upon the business of the students at New Salem School of Sorcery and New Salem Preparatory School of Sorcery. When I was nine, he moved us back to England, London's Upper East Side to be exact, and that was where he met Mrs. Narcissa Grimaldi and her husband Jeremy
I was ten when I had been taken over to the Grimaldi manor, which was actually in the countryside. Narcissa had been married once before, to a Lucius Malfoy, and she had a son, Draco, who lived in the lap of luxury, and a nephew, Ernie, who lived in a loft above the study and would be a professor. Her uncle Terrance was an annoying, perverted bachelor just ten years older than she.
Draco and Ernie were both a year my senior. Ernie was scrawny, but should he be allowed to play Quodpot, he would've been able to develop into a very dashing young man. Draco was already gorgeous and debonair, in a way that only the words All-American can possibly describe to a Muggle.
Maxwell's housekeeper Mrs. White had dressed me, upon my guardian's request, in a dramatic dark gray woolen dress not very suitable for play. Maxwell intended for me to sit in a chair and be entertained by Ernie perhaps.
I remember entering the gloomy dark gray marble foyer clutching Maxwell's hand as lightly as possible. We were soon greeted by a thin blonde woman wearing a cheery pink dress all too cheery for the smile that did not reach her eyes, a meek man dressed in a dark blue suit, a booming, plump bald man with a great mustache, dressed in an old-fashioned military uniform, a meek brunette boy who was even smaller than I, and a very handsome blonde boy. I had no idea how important these people would become.
Narcissa and Maxwell had seemed to agree that it would be strenuous to Draco to entertain a girl, so Narcissa harshly prompted Ernie to divert my attention for the course of my visit, but Draco, smiling what I would learn to be possessively, offered to do it himself. Narcissa smiled proudly as if he had just performed brain surgery on an adorable kitten.
Draco took me by the hand and led me to the library and began to select one of Jeremy's many prized first edition Muggle books. He eventually chose Jack London's White Fang and commanded that I share a large wing chair with him whilst he read me the book.
It was not long after I had met Draco and he had practically snapped a collar around my neck that he went to attend Hogwarts School.
While Draco came home every holiday, it seemed as if Ernie only came home for the summer. Draco was doing well in his classes and was already tapped by some older students who had come to visit their younger siblings as a Quodpot star. Draco owled me every week, promising to sneak out to Hogsmeade to pick something up for me. And he usually kept his promise. Ernie owled me only on holidays, I suppose when he was most alone, and always told me how Draco always took such a keen interest in me. Ernie had told me once that the two had never been really suited for each other and that perhaps Draco saw me as the one terrific companion he had never had.
I was miserable all alone in Maxwell's magnificent London townhouse. There were no children my age that hadn't been sent to boarding school, and all I had was my tutor and governess, Deana. Maxwell traveled to work, and when he was home, he visited Narcissa.
My debut into Hogwarts was fairly uneventful, considering the years leading up to it had been. Draco had followed me around all summer and he'd insisted I do the same for him. He had told me all about his house, Ravenclaw. He said that living at Hogwarts was fairly uneventful; although he had his own small crowd he hung around.
"I was almost sorted into Gryffindor. Slytherin, because of my dad. But the Hate said that I should use my intelligence for the good of the world and that the social scene in Ravenclaw was slightly more exclusive." I had always thought of Draco as some sort of snoot.
It was then that an explosion of noise burst into Ollivander's. I saw six four redheaded boys, a brunette boy, a blonde boy and a bushy-haired snoot enter the shop with a tall blonde woman, a shaggy-haired brunette man, and a smiling couple.
"Fred, how is it you broke another wand already?" The blonde woman asked without much scolding in her voice. She looked around the shop and her eyes passed over me, but then her head snapped back to inspect me further.
Draco waved with a bright smile at the snoot, brunette boy and one of the redheads, and I assumed they were his classmates. Ollivander was making quite a show of wrapping my first wand.
"I have the most distinct feeling, Miss Rockford, that this shan't be your last wand. Your brothers do have the expensive habit of breaking theirs." He said with a sickly smile. I wasn't puzzled at the mention of my brothers, although I hadn't seen them in quite some time; Maxwell wrote their families only on Christmas.
"Rockford?" The blonde woman asked with a much more than polite interest. I nodded with a gracious smile.
"Yes, ma'am."
She stepped forward with earnest. "You are indeed Virginia Sabrina Rockford, daughter of Maxwell Rockford?"
"Yes, yes, so to speak…" I replied breathily, looking away as if to save myself from her repetitive inquiries. Remembering my training, however, I turned back to her and tilted my head with a large smile. "Although my friends are inclined to call me Scarlet."
She smirked at me. "Yes, well…" And then her party roared out of the shop, leaving the shaggy-haired man scarce time to call to her.
"London is strange." Draco muttered as he began to lead me to other shops.
My feet hurt. Narcissa's gift of high-heeled loafers was hardly practical as my surname was toward the end of the alphabet. I scowled as they skipped from Richards to Samford without so much as a breath between the two Hufflepuffs. Surely there was some mistake. Well, they'd have to notice it when I was standing there all by myself when they'd finished the list.
"Weasley, Virginia." Professor McGonagall called out. At the scarlet and gold table, the four redheaded boys from Ollivander's looked up with keen interest, and their friends stared at them confusedly. The professor looked around in similar puzzlement. I was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable, being the only first year unsorted and then this mess was coming down upon my head. She stared at me with a softened expression of irritation. "Are you Virginia Weasley, my dear?"
I shook my head fiercely. Her face twisted up only further.
"Then what do you answer to?" She asked as if I was having a childish identity crisis.
"Scarlet Rockford, ma'am." I retorted as respectfully as I could. As if I wouldn't answer to my given name, regardless of whatever childish identity crisis I may have been having. Honestly, she must've thought I was some sort of bloody kid.
But then again, at the time I had been.
"Although," I began with a far more sugary tone, "My name is Virginia Sabrina Rockford."
She looked back at her list. "I have a Virginia Sabrina Weasley."
I tiptoed up to the professor, perfectly aware that a good thousand students were watching. "Perhaps this is part of a mix-up. I was adopted by Maxwell Rockford after the Great War of the Powers, does that help?"
She nodded, sitting back to inspect me. "You certainly don't look like a Weasley, you know."
Perhaps it was my hair. I noticed the four redheaded boys at the scarlet and gold table had awfully bright hair. Mine, however, was a red so dark it could probably be called blood red. And their eyes all seemed so plain, greys and browns and whatnot, while mine were Lilly's dark blue. And while my skin was not tan as Max's had been, it certainly wasn't the translucent, freckled white as the boys at the table.
She straightened up. "Rockford, Scarlet." She smiled at me as I made my way to the stool. The hat was placed upon my head and I almost heard stomachs growl.
"What a mighty mess you have in here, Miss Scarlet." The hat remarked in a mockingly Southern American tone. "You have not much of a personality, you know. But that is because you haven't had a chance to develop one. You are smart, and pretty at that. You'd do well in Slytherin."
"What would be the point?" I asked it, hoping no one could notice at all that I was talking to this hat. "To marry one of those smirky, snooty bastards?"
"And here I was insulting your lack of personality. I was going to put you in Ravenclaw, but you're a bit too feisty. GRYFFINDOR."
I must have been a terrible disappointment to Draco. But he applauded me with a satisfied smile as I went to sit down next to one of the redheaded twins.
"So it seems as if you're a Weasley in disguise." He whispered with a soft smile. "They'll tell you we're a tricky lot, but…" He pinched my cheek fondly and it was odd—this strange affection did not put me off. It made me feel accepted, into a world that perhaps I had accidentally looked over. "I like you. I promise to stay out of your hair."
"George, chumming up to the first years so quickly?" A loud black boy leered.
"Shut up, Lee, it's only my sister." He grimaced and went to laughing with the boys.
The younger Weasley glowered at me. "You're no Weasley."
"Ron!" The twin called Fred exclaimed, flicking a tablespoon of mashed potatoes at him. "That's no way to treat a lady."
The bushy-haired snoot from the shop flashed me a sickly sweet smile. "I'm Hermione." Snooty name. "I noticed you were talking to the hat. Nice chat, I'm presuming?"
"Oh, shove it, Hermione." A darker girl said with a harsh tone. She smiled at me, though. "Ignore her. She has no manners. The hat and I had a nice talk last year, when he wanted to keep my sister and me in Ravenclaw together. I'm Parvati Patil. Is your father Maxwell Rockford?"
I nodded politely. "Well, he really prefers to refer to me as his ward when we're in private; I'm more like the daughter he has when it is convenient or fashionable."
Parvati laughed understandably. "Yes, my father's in the engineering business, and Padma and I are just his delightful little accessories. It's not quite the same, but—yes, I understand the concept."
I smiled at her appreciatively. She never claimed to know exactly what I went through, or how it felt, she just compared a similar situation. Parvati Patil was someone I knew I was going to respect.
"Parvati, do introduce us to your little first year." A blonde girl remarked almost haughtily.
"She isn't my first year, nor is she anyone else's, Lavender. This is Scarlet Rockford, of the London self-made restaurateur Maxwell Rockford's estate. She's the Weasleys' sister." Parvati introduced formally. "The blonde who has spontaneous outbursts of snootiness is actually the tower sweetheart, Lavender Brown." Parvati smiled a private little smile back to me and introduced each girl along the table with thoughtful details.
"Parvati, I am quite shocked. You haven't introduced your favorite person along this table." A brunette boy with disheveled—or rather, just shaggy—hair and glasses remarked, passing Lavender the roll basket upon her request.
"Of course, how rude of me!" Parvati exclaimed brightly, then throwing off her hostess-with-the-mostess perkiness by rolling her eyes. "Scarlet, this is Harry Potter, your brother Ronald's friend. He's the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts in a hundred years, and he led our team to their first cup in years last year, and because of those games, we won the House Cup as well. Harry, this is Scarlet Rockford, of the London—"
"Self-made restaurateur Maxwell Rockford's estate. She's the Weasleys' sister." Harry repeated with an almost dreamy gaze. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.
"Nice memorization skills, Harry." Lavender remarked, having another one of her spontaneous outbursts of snootiness. "Going to stalk Prince Wills next?"
I smiled at Lavender appreciatively. Harry was rather…I didn't know how to put it. Draco had always paid attention to me, but he had always been suave with it. Harry seemed just as if he was trying to hard to be a romantic hero.
"Well, he is a bit young for you, Harry, but by all means, go ahead." I added to Lavender's remark and Hermione got all huffy all of a sudden.
"He was just trying to prove he was paying attention and didn't need to hear Parvati's incessant, repetitive chatter!" She almost screamed defensively.
"If you ask me, someone's got a little bit of a crush." Parvati whispered to me.
Looking from the flummoxed Harry to the stormily angry Hermione and back to Parvati again, I whispered back, "Good thing I didn't. Else she might've…dove at you or something."
We both giggled and a rather handsome chap sitting near my brother Percival changed the subject to Quidditch.
I spent the majority of the meal chatting up a storm. Every so often, I'd look back over to my brother Ronald, his snooty, prissy friend Hermione and Harry, and Harry would always be looking at me. In the manner of Gilbert Blythe, he attempted to continue looking at me, as if he was some sort of bold romantic.
For the sake of England, he was only twelve.
And I reiterate that my debut into Hogwarts was fairly uneventful.
Three years had passed and Ronald still disliked me. George, my favorite brother by far, explained that although he, Fred, William and Charles took to me spectacularly, they hadn't quite taken to Ronald or Percival, although they saw the pair more frequently over the years. Hermione was still very defensive of Harry's social behavior and my friends' criticism of it.
She was also very jealous of how quickly I had been accepted into their little circle. It wasn't actually little at all—it was practically all of the Gryffindor girls, second year and up, combined with all of the Ravenclaw girls, second year and up, and a few Hufflepuffs from good families or ones that had simply too sweet to ignore personalities. It wasn't very exclusive, and they always tried to include her, however, I do believe she hid it from both Harry and Ronald her desire to join us.
In spite of the fact that we were in different houses and years, Draco still managed to go out of his way to walk me to class. I learned quickly that he didn't bother to restrict his charm to me or his group of friends, but teachers, prefects and the staff as well. He actually made the Head Girl blush once when he was walking me to class and quite naturally becoming late for his own. He was very pleased that I had made friends all around school, especially when being friends with Ravenclaws enabled me to be in his Common Room quite a bit.
I was with a small group of my friends when Hermione decided to show me up a bit, talking in a very loud voice about a large wedding. We were all outdoors, enjoying the sunshine, shortly before spring holiday.
Upon discovering that the talk of weddings did not startle me at all, she shoved a tabloid into my hands.
"It looks as if you have a new mummy." She taunted.
And to this I reacted rather calmly, causing her to storm off.
Ronald sniffed. "Your mum has and always will be Molly Weasley." He said before going after her, his nose in the air.
"Hope I'm invited to the wedding." Harry added with a charismatic wink that seemed false. It was, perhaps, because Harry, having no such daring charisma, could not possibly make it seem that he had. He, too, followed his friends.
I finally opened the tabloid to read a small ditty about Maxwell proposing to the recently widowed Narcissa Grimaldi.
I made a face. Narcissa was all right, I supposed. Not my first pick, of course. I would've loved for Bella Figg to be my 'new mummy', but she had lots of personality while Maxwell had none but his business charm.
I was little aware of how my life would change simply because of these events, and although my triumphs and failures should've been splashed on the tabloid pages, they would only be behind thick closed doors.
To be continued…