IV.
Roxanne
All I Want for Christmas Is You
17 December 2037
I just want you for my own,
More than you could ever know.
Roxanne rubbed her eyes tiredly, as she fumbled with the keys of her Diagon Alley flat. It had been a long and exhausting day of work at the bank. The Gringotts goblins always became exceptionally surly during the holidays, as they were forced to watch vast amounts of goblin-made treasure—old familial engagement rings and strings of priceless jewels—withdrawn from Wizarding vaults and passed around under their noses. Uncle Bill had taught Roxanne, very early on, not to tussle with the goblins during Christmastime—but staying out of their way certainly didn't make working with them any easier.
Sighing heavily, she pushed open the door. Then, she froze at the threshold. The sitting room of the flat was pitch-black. She frowned warily, closing her fingers around her wand. It was not like Henry to put out the lights before she got home—besides, Henry had an irritatingly endearing habit of waiting up for her.
Suddenly, she heard a rustle near her left elbow and she whirled around, slashing her wand through the air. There was a blinding blaze of blue light, followed by a loud thud and a yelp of pain. Heart pounding against her ribs, Roxanne flicked her wand in the direction of the sitting room's gas lamps. With a low rumble, they flickered to life—and Roxanne swiveled to face the crumpled form that was sprawled out on the rug near the coffee table.
"Henry?"
Henry Malkin, Roxanne's boyfriend of fifteen years, was struggling to his feet, rubbing his back where, presumably, it had hit the coffee table as a result of Roxanne's Knockback Jinx.
"What the hell was that for?" he grumbled, wincing.
Roxanne rolled her eyes. "You tell me," she said incredulously, stowing her wand and hurrying to assist him. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on a curse-breaker?"
Henry snorted, but did not protest, as Roxanne slipped her arm around his waist and carefully led him towards the sofa. Groaning, he fell back against the couch cushions, massaging his shoulder.
"So, are you going to tell me exactly what you were doing in the dark?" Roxanne asked him in amusement. "Or is that a question I'd rather not know the answer to?"
Henry threw her a dirty look. "If you must know, I was planning to surprise you. I made us a wonderful dinner—and we were supposed to eat it in the kitchen like civilized wizards, but I suppose this will have to do…" Drawing his wand from his pocket, Henry waved it in the direction of the kitchen, and Roxanne gasped, ducking, as two—three—four—five different casseroles came soaring through the doorway to land lightly on the coffee table.
"Bloody hell," Roxanne exclaimed, gaping at the numerous platters. "Have you been in the kitchen all day?"
Henry grinned, handing her a plate, and Roxanne sank down onto the sofa next to him, blinking in amazement. "I closed the shop early so I could come home and cook," he told her, serving her a jacket potato. "I wanted this to be special."
Roxanne stopped smiling. She turned and looked sharply at Henry. His grin faltered slightly, but his gaze didn't waver.
"Henry," Roxanne said in a low, fierce voice. "No—not this again, please."
Henry sighed. "Roxanne, just hear me out—"
"I've heard you out, Henry," Roxanne interrupted severely, setting her plate down on the coffee table and closing her eyes. "I've heard you out six times. My answer hasn't changed."
"Well, one more time, then," Henry said, his voice hardening slightly. "Just hear me out one more time, Rox. Lucky number seven."
Roxanne opened her eyes and glowered at him. But Henry didn't even flinch.
Roxanne Weasley had been in love with Henry Malkin since she was fifteen years old. It had started in the October of her fourth year, when he had first asked her to Hogsmeade. She had already known who he was at the time, of course. They were in the same year and in the same house—Henry was one of Hugo's best friends. He had caught up with her after a Herbology lesson and asked her, oh-so-nonchalantly, if she wanted to grab a drink with him at the Three Broomsticks that weekend. And Roxanne, remembering one of her mother's first pieces of advice about boys ("If you think you might actually fancy him, tell him you're busy, and see if he asks again."), had invented an excuse as to why she couldn't go.
The next month, he had asked her again.
It had been the best Hogsmeade visit of her life. Henry was handsome, certainly—but moreover, he was kind, and funny, and he had made her feel comfortable in a way that Roxanne hadn't imagined possible.
After that, she hadn't looked back. They had dated throughout their last three years of Hogwarts and had been together ever since. Unlike most of her family, who had dated at least two or three people at school (and in the case of James, Freddie, and Louis, it had been more along the lines of six or seven), Roxanne had only ever had one boyfriend. She had only ever loved one person. And it terrified her.
Roxanne wasn't like the other girls she had known in school. For one thing, she hated being taken care of. She was independent, and clever, and sharp, and she could take care of herself, thank you very much. She hated feeling vulnerable, but above all, she hated being caught off guard. And unfortunately for her, Henry had a knack for doing just that.
On their graduation day, he had proposed for the first time. The 'no' that had sprung to her lips had been reflexive, immediate. They were too young. Roxanne would soon be starting her curse-breaker training program. It was a terrible idea.
But then, two years later, he had asked her again. And then, two years after that, again. Then, three more times, after that. And by that point, it had started to become harder and harder to come up with reasons to refuse.
But that, Roxanne thought fiercely, was the problem. A proposal was supposed to make a girl happy, wasn't it? Victoire, and Rose, and Dominique—and all of her other cousins—they had been so thrilled to be engaged. Roxanne had even witnessed Dominique's proposal. Malcolm had done it during a family birthday dinner for Dominique at Shell Cottage, six years ago. And Dominique—heart-of-steel, tough-as-nails, unwavering Dominique—had actually cried.
But when Roxanne thought of marrying Henry, all she felt was fear. Fear, that he would stop loving her. Fear, that he would leave her. Fear, that he would break her heart. And after all, she had only ever loved one man. What if she could never love anyone else?
Suddenly, Henry cleared his throat, and Roxanne swallowed, meeting his eyes.
"Rox," he said softly, and Roxanne felt goosebumps erupt on the back of her neck. "I love you. I want to be with you. I—I want to marry you."
Roxanne exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "Henry, I've told you a thousand times why I—why we can't," she said in a low voice. "You know I don't want kids. You know how much I travel for work. You—you know this is a bad idea—"
"No, Rox, I don't," Henry said harshly, and Roxanne looked at him, startled. Henry jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. "We've been together for fifteen years. D'you really think I'd have stayed with you all this time if I wasn't sure about this—about you?"
Roxanne rubbed her temples. "That's not what I—"
"What do I have to do, Roxanne?" Henry stopped pacing and flung a hand in the air, his expression desperate. "What do I have to do to prove myself?"
Roxanne clenched her jaw. "Henry—"
"I've told you a thousand times, I don't want anything more than what you're willing to give me—"
"Now, you don't!" Roxanne interrupted fiercely, leaping to her feet and seizing the front of Henry's jumper with her hands. "Now, you don't want anything more! But what if you wake up one morning, twenty years down the line, and all you can think about is everything you don't have because of me?"
Henry gaped at her. "Rox—"
"It could happen!" Roxanne cried in a strangled voice. "What if you resent me, because I never gave you any children? What if you resent the fact that I was out of the country for half our marriage? Have you ever—ever—thought about that?"
Roxanne released Henry's jumper and stumbled backwards several feet, breathing heavily. There was a long, lingering silence, as Henry stared at her.
Then, suddenly, he took a step towards her. "I've asked you to marry me six times," he told her quietly. "And four years ago—I realized that…that I don't just want to marry you anymore. I need to."
Roxanne's stomach lurched unpleasantly. Four Decembers ago, the cursed château in Paris to which Roxanne had been assigned at the time had exploded and collapsed inward, killing forty-eight Gringotts curse-breakers. And if Roxanne hadn't been in England on holiday leave that week, she would have been one of them.
Henry took another step towards her. "If something had happened to you—if you hadn't been home," he said fiercely, his eyes blazing, "I would've lost you forever. Marriage isn't a—a protection, or anything—but I could never forgive myself if I didn't give this—give you—my one-hundred percent."
He took a final step towards her. Then, very slowly, he knelt down on the floor before her, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and producing a little violet box. Roxanne had seen this box—and its contents—so many times before that she had memorized it.
"Roxanne Morgana Weasley," Henry said softly, and a thrill of mingled exasperation and exhilaration chased down her spine. "I've loved you for fifteen years, and I have no intention of stopping—not now, not ever. You always say that you hate being caught off guard—so I've made this easy for you and given you six trial runs." In spite of herself, Roxanne snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes, and Henry grinned. "Will you please, for the love of Godric, marry me?"
Roxanne opened her mouth to answer—but then, almost against her own will, she closed it again. The 'no' was there, at the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken. The reasons—they were there, too. And the fear, as well.
But then, suddenly, inexplicably, unbelievably, impossibly, tears stung Roxanne's eyes—and the shock of this alone nearly caused her to cry out in astonishment. She, Roxanne Morgana Weasley, never cried—not especially over a proposal that she had seen not once, not twice, but six times already. Pressing her lips together, Roxanne glanced down at the diamond ring, so familiar—and then, up at Henry's face, also so familiar—at his bright blue eyes, which shone with hope, love, and warmth—and above all, a promise.
Six times Roxanne had been asked this question, and six times she had said no. And Merlin, there were a million reasons to say no—and she could list each and every single one of them.
But for the first time in her life, she didn't want to.
"Yes," she whispered.
Henry's face went blank. He blinked uncomprehendingly up at her. "What?"
Tears spilled down Roxanne's cheeks and she glared at Henry. "Are you seriously going to muck this up the one time I say yes?" she demanded, half-laughing, half-crying. "Yes, Henry, yes."
Henry's mouth fell open and he gaped at her for a moment. Then, slowly, a delirious smile spread across his face. With a strangled cry of amazement, he bounded to his feet and pulled Roxanne into his arms, kissing her zealously.
Roxanne laughed against his lips, embracing him tightly. Then, she drew back, wiping her eyes, and held out her left hand. And grinning broadly at her, as though she had given him everything he had ever wished for from the world, Henry took the ring from its box and slipped it onto her fourth finger, where it fit perfectly.
"It's going to be weird, not carrying this around anymore," Henry said numbly, holding up the little velvet box and staring at it.
Roxanne raised an eyebrow at him. "D'you want to be carrying it around again?"
Henry laughed, tossing the box over his shoulder, and Roxanne grinned, flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
Make my wish come true.
All I want for Christmas is you.
—Mariah Carey
Author's Note:
Heh. Cuties. I really loved writing Roxanne. She's such a formidable mix of her parents.
Next up is…AL! :D And the song will be 'Merry Christmas from the Family.' Get ready for some Weasley-Potter family fun!
Ari
