A/N- Just a quick heads up about the story as a whole. It has themes from Divergent and The Maze Runner, which you'll see as it progresses. Also, please know that I do in fact know that the second generation of Weasley-Potters aren't as close in age as I've written them. Each has a special purpose in the story and that's why they're there! Another quick note- I used Google translate for the French in the first chapter (that will continue throughout the story) so please don't be offended if you speak French and see that I have butchered your beautiful language.
Also, this is my first try at writing in present tense! So, if it's a bit...off, I'm sorry. I'm still learning and trying to get used to it.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think!
Everyone is wearing black. I want to burn the dress I'm wearing; I make a vow to myself that I will once I get home. I don't ever want to see it again, because I know that if I do, it will remind me of this very moment and every moment leading up to it. I want to forget it. I want to forget it before it has even happened.
I feel tension in my chest and my throat feels constricted. It's hard to breathe. The man in front of the tomb continues speaking words I don't care to hear and I stare at my feet. Tiny blades of grass poke up around them. I focus on them and single one out. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough on it the world around me will fade away and I won't be able to hear the constant sobs and sniffles the crowd is emitting.
It doesn't work, so I start to count them. I reach sixty before a gruff weep shakes me to my core. I tell myself not to look up—but it's a reflex instilled in everyone. When you hear someone you love in pain, you check to make sure that they're okay, even when you know that they aren't.
My dad sobs against his palm as he clings to my mum. His whole body shakes with grief. I can only look at him for a few seconds before I feel like I'm being strangled by invisible hands. Days worth of unshed tears threaten to spill out of my eyes and I ball my small hands into smaller fists. My knuckles pulsate. My heart is pounding. I want to scream.
Everything about this is wrong. My dad shouldn't be crying. A stranger shouldn't be talking about Fred. Fred shouldn't be confined inside of a tomb. I shouldn't be watching my brother be buried.
I can't watch him be buried.
I don't wait a second longer to stand from my seat. The strong smell of flowers wafts through the warm summer air and I hold my breath as I walk by my parents. I don't know if they notice my absence, but others see me as I move through the aisle separating the rows of chairs, and I can feel their eyes follow me. I don't look at them—I look straight, past what is ahead of me. I see nothing while I feel a fire of fury storm in my chest.
My fingers throb and my knuckles are almost white when I unclench my fists. My nails left indentations on my palms that burn and prickle with pain. I stare at them, my back towards the burial.
It isn't long before I hear footsteps approaching behind me. I don't bother with checking to see who it is. I don't want to give anyone an opening to start a conversation with me.
However, the person isn't looking to talk as she stands by my side. She unscrews a flask after retrieving it from her cleavage, takes a gulp, then offers it to me without a word. I take it without one as well. The Firewhiskey burns my throat with my first drink and numbs it with the second. I look up at my cousin Dominique, her long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair blows with the breeze. Her blue eyes are dry. I'm not the only one who is refusing to cry.
"I feel like I'm wearing a brass bra," she says as she fans her face. "Bloody Hell, it's hot."
I tilt my head back, the flask pressing against my lips. I hardly feel the Firewhiskey as I swallow it.
I hold the flask out for Dom to take. "This probably isn't helping," I say. I already start to feel lightheaded. "With the heat, anyway."
"Neither are these dreadful clothes." Dominique fingers her heavy looking dress and purses her lips. "Y'know, I told my mum it was too hot for this! Vous devez porter du noir, Dominique! C'est un enterrement! Ugh. Bloody wench."
She takes another swig from her flask as I try to decipher what she had muttered in French. I can't figure it out. I only know a few socially acceptable phrases in Aunt Fleur's native tongue. Whatever Dom had said wasn't one of them.
I thought I wanted to be alone until she joined me. If there was one person who could comfort me without meaning or trying to, it was Dominique. I'm glad she's with me.
We hear footsteps and Dom quickly tucks her flask away as she glances over her shoulder. "Bloody Hell, Albus." She sighs loudly. "I thought you were an adult. Fancy a drink?"
"Erm, no," he says. I glance over my shoulder to see him wave his hand at her. We look at each other and I see that his eyes are puffy, bloodshot, and wet from recent tears. The sight makes me feel like I'm going to blow sick all over him, so I look away. I'm thankful I didn't have to see him crying.
"Ya all right, Rox?" he asks, standing by my other side. His voice is strained and nasally.
"Of course she's not, you knob!" says Dominique. "Would you be all right?"
Albus says nothing but I see him flinch in my periphery. I refuse to look directly at him. Knowing that he has teary eyes makes me irrationally angry. I know I'll lash out at him if I speak to him right now so I say nothing.
We stand in silence and sweat collects on my hairline. I wipe it away. The slight breeze is cooling to my bronze skin but it's still uncomfortably hot.
I wonder when the burial will be over but I can't bring myself to voice that question, or turn around to see what is happening behind me. Not even when I hear a loud, shaky sob from only a few feet away. However, when Dom and Albus look and I hear both of them gasp, I'm unable to stop myself from craning my neck.
Rose lurches toward us, sobbing. It's easier to see her in such a state than it is to see Albus or my dad. She's always been overly emotional. So much that she was nicknamed The Sensitive Weasley during our first year at school.
"Rose. Are you okay?" asks Albus as he and Dom step closer to her.
"I'm—I'm f—fine," she says. She doesn't look fine at all. She looks ill. Paler than usual. I notice that she shakes and sounds breathless. "I just couldn't...sit there. What—what about you? Dom, Roxy, are you guys okay?"
No sooner than the words leave her mouth, her eyes roll back, lids covering them and she starts to collapse. Albus is quick to catch her before she has a chance to hit the ground.
"Help!" screams Dom. "Someone! Rose—something's wrong with Rose!"
Several heads turn in our direction. I see Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron rising to their feet, but the first to reach us is James.
"James!" Aunt Hermione screams. "Get her out of here! Take her to George and Angelina's!"
ϟ
James apparates each of us back to my house one by one, starting with Rose, who lays unconscious on the sofa in the lounge. Aunt Hermione sits on the edge of it by her side holding her hand while Uncle Ron leans over the arm, running his fingers through her ginger hair.
Dom, James, Albus and I watch them from the kitchen.
"I don't understand why they didn't take her to St. Mungo's," whispers Albus. "With everything that's been happening...What if she—"
"Oh come off of it, Albus," Dominique interrupts him. "Aunt Hermione is the smartest person in the family. If it was anything serious, she'd be the one to know."
"What do you think it is, then, smarty-pants?" asks James.
"Probably the heat!" retorts Dom. "You Potters with your Potter complexes. You think anything that happens is going to lead to something completely dreadful."
"You say as we miss our cousin's burial," James says as he pops a grape into his mouth. He nods toward the lounge. "Because our other cousin fainted for absolutely no reason."
I snort. I really have to appreciate James' inability to ever be tactful. Really, I do, or else I'll have to scream and chuck the porcelain bowl of grapes at his forehead as he smacks his lips.
The three of them look at me, however James is the only one to say anything. "What about you, tan Weasley?" he says as he chews. "What do you reckon happened to Rosie?"
"The shame of being related to you became too much to bear," I say.
Dom and Albus share a laugh while James' face contorts. "Oh that's real funny, Roxanne." He swallows the mouth full of grapes. "I was being serious."
"So was I, Sirius," I say. "Your name is bloody awful, you know that? What the Hell was your dad thinking?"
"Hey! I was named after important people," says James. "Plus, Sirius is better than Severus."
"And it's better than Albus," says Dom. "See? Potter complex. He named both of you after dead people."
"Dad wasn't the only one who did that," argues James. "Uncle George named Fred after Uncle Fred."
And now Fred is dead, too.
I sink my teeth into the inside of my bottom lip—half to keep myself from saying anything and half to keep it from quivering. I don't understand how they can talk about him so openly. Every time I hear his name my stomach churns. I don't want to talk about Fred. I don't want to hear anyone else talk about him either. I don't even want to think about him. I wish someone would Obliviate him from my memory.
James and Dom argue over who in the family has the worst name until they agree on Uncle Percy. Collectively, he's the least liked in the family next to Aunt Fleur.
It isn't long after the argument ends that people start to show up, my parents being the first.
My dad comes right to me, his eyes swollen from tears, and hugs me tightly. I want to push him away but I don't. I just stand there stiffly until he kisses the top of my head and walks away.
A line forms and I am hugged by almost every member of my family. I never want to be touched again.
Rose stirs and I watch through the crowd as she speaks to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. She looks worried. She always does. I know her well enough to know that her worry is selfless. She's probably asking how everyone else is.
Over the chatter I hear a knock at the front door. I don't know who it could be. There are so many people in my kitchen, lounge, and dining room that it is hard to know who all is here.
Three more loud knocks hit the outside of the door. Mum must have heard them, as she calls, "Roxanne, can you please get that?"
I nod, silently vowing that I will punch whoever it is if they cry on me or try to touch me.
The knocks start up again, louder this time.
"I'm bloody coming," I say as I grab the doorknob. I interrupt the noise as I yank the door open with more effort than needed.
I expect to see a familiar face but instead I stare up at a man I don't recognize but am immediately taken aback by. He looks rugged. Severe. With cold, threatening narrowed eyes. His shirt, pants, and thick jacket all black.
"I—" he starts to say. I see the intensity leave his dark brown eyes, his full lips parted without words leaving them. He suddenly looks as confused as I feel. He hesitates, staring at me, then brings his hand up to his mouth and I watch him clench his angular, shadowed jaw as if he's trying to compose himself.
My mouth hangs agape, my eyebrows knitting. I'm about to speak—but his eyes leave mine before I have the chance.
"P-Potter. Sir. I was told by the Ministry that I would be able to find you here," he says. His deep voice is detached. Cold. Like his eyes.
I look over my shoulder. Uncle Harry is making his way toward us. He disregards my presence and squeezes through the door, motioning for the man to follow as he sets off down the hall.
"Any updates?" I hear Uncle Harry ask. The man's response is muffled by their footsteps and the chatter behind me.
"Who was that?" I hear Dom's voice so close to me that it causes me to jump and wheel around too quickly. I slam the door shut on accident.
"I have no idea," I say. "Someone from the Ministry."
"Well, if he was looking for Uncle Harry he's probably an Auror," she says. "He's hot. Do you think he's coming back?"
"I doubt it," I say as we start through the crowd.
My mum catches my eye and says, "Roxanne, who was at the door?"
"Someone for Uncle Harry," I tell her. She nods.
"Did he leave with him?" asks Aunt Ginny. I'm not afraid of much, but the look on her face is terrifying. Especially so, as she's holding a knife.
"Er, yeah. They walked down the hall," I say.
She sighs through gritted teeth and looks back at the vegetables she's cutting.
"Oi. Give him a break, Gin," says Uncle Ron. "The man's gotta work."
"Shut your mouth, Ron," she snaps without looking at him.
"Let's get away before she throws a knife at him again," Dom whispers.
We go to my bedroom. Even though it's right across the hall from Fred's room, it's better to be in it than with the lot in the kitchen and lounge. Dom sits in front of my mirror pampering herself while I dig through my wardrobe for clothes to change into. I promised myself I would burn my dress and that's what I plan on doing as soon as I get the chance.
Dom looks at my reflection in the mirror as I adjust my tshirt. "Ugh. Those trousers are so bloody cute. It's a shame they'd never fit me. You're so bloody small."
I glare at her. She laughs. Dom is only one-eighth Veela but still has a perfect body. She's tall, thin, and curvy in all of the right places. While I am short and scrawny with the body of a bloody third year boy.
"Don't look at me like that," she says, grinning. "You look like a little kid."
"Cheers," I say bitterly. I loathe being so small.
There is a knock at my door seconds before it starts opening. Albus and his girlfriend Alice Longbottom stand in the hall.
"Hey, Dom," she says, looking from Dom to me. "Hey, Roxanne."
Dom perks up and spins around on the floor to face them. I can't help but to notice the way her eyes light up and linger on Alice, or the way she smiles at her.
"Come on in," Dom says. I like how she invites people into my room when I came in it to get away from them.
But Alice is an exception, I guess. I like her well enough. She's not particularly chatty. Not with me. I know she won't mention Fred. She knows how it feels to lose someone.
Her mum died a few months ago. She got the disease. I can still see sadness in her eyes from her loss.
I refuse to look like that.
"I can't," Alice says. "My dad and I are leaving. I just wanted to say hi to both of you, since I didn't get to...earlier."
"Oh...Well, maybe you can come over sometime," Dom says cheerfully.
"Yeah. I'll owl you. I should get going, though. I don't want to keep Dad waiting."
"I'll walk you out," Albus says, putting his hand on Alice's waist.
I look at Dom to see her looking away from the pair.
The urge to comment rises in my throat, but I hesitate until I think they are far enough away before I say, "Do you want me to ask her if she likes girls?"
Dom whips her head around and snaps, "What?!"
"I said, do you want me to ask her if she likes girls," I say again.
"I heard you the first time," she says. She gives me a nasty look. "Stop being disgusting."
"I don't think I'm being disgusting, but." I shrug.
"Well, I do. So shut up."
I sit down on my bed and Dom turns to face my mirror again. I don't say anything else. I can tell that she isn't very pleased with me. It was tactless enough to mention it at all. Tactlessness is a familial trait, apparently.
Albus returns to my room a few minutes later, Rose lingering behind him.
"How are you feeling, Rose?" I ask.
She gives me a weak smile. "Fine, thanks."
I know she's not saying it to make any of us worry any less. While she still looks pale and feeble, she doesn't look as bad as she did earlier.
I pat the spot next to me on my bed and she sits down as Albus sits on the floor in front of us.
"What happened anyway, Rose?" asks Albus.
Dom sighs loudly. "We went over this already. It was the heat!"
"How do you know that?" he says.
"Oh, I dunno. Maybe because it's bloody hot outside?"
"With everything that's happening, why are you so quick to assume—"
"Why are you so quick to assume things, Albus?" she snaps.
"Because people are dying!" he yells.
"People die every day. There's no need to get your knickers in a twist—"
"Not like this! This is different and you know it, Dom," he says. "Something's happening."
"Yeah, karma," Dom says. "Don't act like everyone who has kicked it didn't deserve it."
"Alice's mum didn't deserve it," he says harshly. "Fred didn't deserve it."
"Hey," I snap. I feel heat rushing to my face. "That's not what happened to Fred."
"We don't know that. We don't know why he—"
"Shut up!" I shout. "We're not bloody talking about this anymore."
"We have to talk about it!"
"Why?" Dom interjects. "To feed into your Potter complex a bit more?"
"Because it's getting worse!"
"Guys," Rose says quietly. We all look at her. Her blue eyes shine with tears. "Please, stop fighting."
And just like that, Rose gets all of us to calm down.
A long pause of silence follows and Albus is the first to break it. "I overheard my dad talking to Teddy...The disease is getting worse. It's spreading. Fast. The Ministry is a mess."
Dom snorts. "Of course it's a mess, Alb. Did you forget that they thought Voldemort was behind this at first? They're mental. If it wasn't for the Scrofungulus theory, they'd still think that."
"Well, it isn't Scrofungulus either," Albus says.
"Duh," says Dom. "Honestly, anyone who has ever picked up a book could figure that one out. Scrofungulus doesn't cause total loss or control of your magic."
"It doesn't affect your magic at all," I say. "Why did they even assume it was Scrofungulus?"
"Because they had to have something to blame," says Albus. "Scrofungulus doesn't fit what's been happening. That's why they said it was a rare strain of it...but now...More people at the Ministry are losing their powers. They want real answers."
Dom scoffs, "Then they should prepare to give real answers."
"That's the thing." Albus sighs. "They don't have an answer. They don't know what's happening or what's causing it."
"Or how it's spreading," I say.
"Right," he nods.
"But instead of saying that, they're just going to keep up the Scrofungulus excuse? Why am I not surprised?" Dom says.
"Dad hates what they're doing," he says. "But he can't do anything to stop them. It isn't his department that's in control of what the public gets to know. But he's doing everything that he can to try and figure out what's really happening...he's got lots of Aurors out chasing any leads they can find."
I immediately think of the man who showed up at my front door. He must be one of them.
"So what? He thinks it's some sort of dark wizard behind it, then?" Dom asks.
Albus shrugs. "He doesn't know, but Aurors are trained to handle them if they are behind it. Anyway, that's why I was concerned over you, Rose. It's spreading...and..."
"I'm fine," Rose says sweetly. "Really. It was the heat."
"I told you so, Albus," Dom says.
"But how do you know that for sure?" Albus asks, ignoring Dom completely. "You're underage. You can't do magic outside of school...None of us can. So how would any of us know that we're fine?"
How would any of us know?