10 August 2016

Ten-year-old Rose Granger-Weasley was bored.

Nestling herself comfortably in the attic bedroom of the Burrow—which Weasley-Potter children often chose to explore during long, dull summer afternoons—she decided to investigate some of many dusty, old cardboard boxes that were scattered across the floor, untouched.

Slinking furtively across the room, Rose knelt in front of the huge collection of boxes, biting her lip. She scanned the box labels; the variety was really quite astonishing. Box names ranged from 'Ginevra's Third Birthday,' to 'Lily and James'—Uncle Harry had likely left those there—to 'Teddy's Old Toys,' to 'A Very Weasley Wedding.'

Smirking at a small box labeled 'Ronald Weasley's Potty Training' (she really did not need to see that, Rose decided), she caught sight of one that was tucked away in the corner, almost hidden by the large number of shadows cast across it.

It was labeled 'The Triwizard Tournament.'

Rose's eyes widened. Surely, neither her parents nor her grandparents had ever actually witnessed a Triwizard Tournament. She'd thought those tournaments had been banned ages ago—too many casualties.

Casting a nervous glance in the direction of the door, Rose carefully pulled the box forward and stared at it.

She wasn't stupid. Much like the rest of her cousins, she knew far too well of the life-threatening situations that her parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents had survived. She knew that they had lived through years of war, loss, and terror. After all, she had read Modern Magical History: The Revised Edition—and more than once, too.

But this was…different. This was…well, almost normal. It was something she could imagine Dominique, or Freddie, or James, or even Albus attempting, were they ever given the opportunity. A Triwizard Tournament. After all, her cousins loved a challenge.

Opening the box (what could be in it that was so horrible, anyway?), she fumbled through the numerous photographs, newspaper clippings, and magazine cutouts, pulling one out at random.

Gently, she smoothed away the large number of wrinkles, dimly wondering whether the article had been crumpled up on purpose.

Harry Potter's Secret Heartache, Rose read.

"Definitely on purpose," she muttered, smirking, as she continued to read:

A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger.

Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections—

Rose stopped reading. She was beginning to feel physically ill.

She doubted she'd ever be able to look at Uncle Harry again.

She'd never known, not in a million years, that her mother and her uncle had dated.

And Victor Krum? The retired Seeker of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team? She had met him, at the Quidditch World Cup final in Argentina, two years ago! Her father had cheered for him! Her uncle had hugged him!

Rose crushed the article in her fist, her heart pounding against her chest. She felt furious, betrayed, blindsided…her mother had been such a…tease.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open, and Rose stiffened as her mother herself appeared in the door frame.

"Merlin's beard, what in the world are you doing up here alone?" Mum asked breathlessly, shaking her head. "Al, I've found her!" she called down the stairs. "She's in Uncle Ron's old bedroom!"

"Great!" Albus's annoyed voice echoed from numerous floors below. "Tell her I'm going to kill her!"

Reflexively, Rose tried to shield the clipping from her mother, but Mum was far too quick. In an instant, she had snatched the page out of her daughter's hand and unfolded it. Rose bit her lip, watching anxiously as her mother's eyes scanned over the clipping. She was waiting for Mum to drop to her knees, smooth Rose's hair, and explain how it was all the past, and that none of it mattered anymore…that things had changed…

But to Rose's utter astonishment, she giggled.

Soon, she was chuckling.

And then, it became full-on, hysterical laughter.

"Mum!" Rose exclaimed, scandalized. "This isn't funny! Why wouldn't you tell me you dated Uncle Harry? And Victor Krum? At the same time!"

Her mother fell silent at once.

"Rosie," Mum said in a stunned voice. "You don't honestly believe this rubbish, do you?"

She seemed to gather the worst from Rose's sheepish expression.

"It's a magazine clipping!" Rose said defensively.

"Oh, Rose," Mum sighed, shaking her head. "Ask Auntie Ginny if you don't believe me, but Rita Skeeter has never written a true word in her life. Don't you remember the fiasco at the World Cup in Patagonia? Don't you remember all the garbage she wrote about Teddy and Victoire?"

A rush of overwhelming relief welled up in Rose.

"So…" she began in a small voice, "So you never dated Uncle Harry?"

"I never dated Uncle Harry," her mother said firmly.

"And Victor Krum?" Rose pressed.

Mum hesitated. "We went on…one date, when I was fifteen."

"Did you kiss?" Rose asked sharply.

Mum blushed, averting her eyes. Then, she nodded.

"Mum!"

"What?" Now, it was Mum's turn to sound defensive. "One does not have any intention of marrying a person they snog when they're fifteen, Rose!"

Rose frowned.

"When Uncle Harry was fifteen, he snogged Cho Chang. When Auntie Ginny was fifteen, she snogged Dean Thomas," Mum explained, shrugging.

"And Dad?"

Mum smirked. "Dean's wife, Lavender, though your father was sixteen. The two of them used to slither around the Gryffindor common room like a pair of snakes."

Rose made a face, disgusted. Then, she sighed.

"Well, I suppose you're right…maybe I was overreacting a little," she said thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, an idea occurred to her, and her face split into a crooked grin that Mum didn't notice. "Thanks for the talk, Mum," Rose said quickly, climbing to her feet. "I needed that."

"No problem, sweetheart," Mum said warmly, patting her daughter on the back, as Rose headed in the direction of the door. "I'm glad you're—"

"Al!" Rose bellowed, as she raced down the staircase. "You'll never guess who our parents snogged at school!"

Author's Note:

Just a silly little one-shot that popped into my head as I was skimming GoF. :)