Chapter 7: You Hold Onto It
We forget that we are strong, and we forget that the human body is resilient and is able to withstand so much of what we put it through.
"Sh sh sh, oh my god." Leo let out a renewed wail, and I held him in my arms, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I was holding him so that his head was right over my heart. Tracey had told me to hold him close to me so he could feel my heartbeat when he was upset. She told me that babies were often scared when they got home for the first time since they were used to the womb and the hospital and our world was a scary place and they needed a smooth transition and for that, they needed to feel the assurance of closeness. I understood that. She told me that they needed to feel safe and close to their mothers, and I was trying. Goddammit. I was doing that—GODDAMMIT, TRACEY, I'M DOING THAT—but nothing helped.
Leo had been screaming for the better part of an hour and nothing helped. I changed him, I fed him, I held him, I rocked him, I sang to him—nothing worked. No matter what I did, he remained absolutely fucking miserable.
I sighed heavily and glanced at the clock above the television.
3:04.
Luckily—FUCKING LUCKILY—my flat had Silencing Charms around it so my poor neighbors wouldn't be able to hear the screams of the child who hated me. Luckily they wouldn't hear the woman in 3B, whose child was either dying or was just playing some cruel joke on his poor mother.
I bounced on the balls of my feet so long that my calves started to ache, so I resorted to walking around the flat, trying to keep Leo close to my heart while praying to whoever could possibly be listening that my son just please stop crying.
This was the fifth night in a row like this. I'd had to call Scorpius and tell him he couldn't come over like we'd planned. I told him I was sick and staying with my parents. He was disappointed, bordering on angry, but—with what I could imagine was barely contained rage—he said through clenched teeth to call when I was better, obviously understanding that I had just gotten home from a weeklong stay at the hospital so things might be touch and go for a while.
Little did he know that the real reason was because I hadn't slept in almost a week and if he came over I knew I would just burst into tears and beg him to never leave.
I just… God, I just couldn't let him see me like this—I couldn't let him see me completely failing as a mother. It hadn't even been a week and I had already utterly fucking blown it. If Scorpius were to come… My god, he would probably take one look at me, grab Leo, and run for the hills.
"Leo, please… Jesus…" I could hardly hear my own voice over his blood-curdling cries. "What can I do? I've done everything."
I was exhausted—completely and utterly exhausted. I'm so bloody tired. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and my brain was a foggy lump of mush. Every single one of my muscles ached with fatigue, from the top of my head to the tips of my… what are those things called…? Toes. Yes, to the tips of my toes. I hadn't bathed properly in almost a week and I couldn't remember the last time I had just been able to… I just… I needed… What was it I needed? I didn't—I couldn't—I CAN'T THINK!
I couldn't. Bloody. Think. What—where was that pacifier? I conjured it with my wand and tried to put it in his mouth, but each time he wouldn't take it. His mouth just stayed agape, emitting scream after fucking scream.
"Leo…" I felt my chin quiver and I swallowed. I walked back toward the sitting room and tilted my head back. "Dammit, Rose." I couldn't cry. I wouldn't cry. If I cried, I would lose it and I wouldn't be able to stop crying. I would lose any mild semblance of control that I had. I would—I was just so tired and I didn't—"I don't know what to do." My voice broke.
And there we were. Leo Arthur Malfoy and Rose Ginevra Weasley—two complete babies who desperately needed someone's, anyone's, help—who would do anything to have everything be right with the world—but who no one could possibly help. Two babies who needed something, but who knew what it was?
I felt the tears streaming down my face as I walked to my couch and laid him down. His screams—although I couldn't possibly imagine how—got louder. I laid down next to him on the edge of the couch to block him from the ground and just begged him to stop crying.
I turned and grabbed the bottle off the coffee table that I had set there an hour ago when I had tried to feed him, hoping that that was the source of his despair. I tried to feed him again, but he didn't want to be fed. He didn't want to be fed, he didn't to be changed, he didn't want to be held by me. He clearly wanted something, and obviously—WHATEVER THE FUCK IT WAS—I couldn't provide it.
The night before when I couldn't bear it anymore, I had taken him to the hospital. After three nights, I knew it couldn't—surely it couldn't possibly—be anything I was doing—I knew this wasn't normal—this couldn't be normal—so I took him to the hospital with fear lancing through my heart, knowing that they were going to tell me something was horribly wrong. Because something had to be horribly wrong.
Tracey, along with the other nurses and doctors on duty, had checked him out at my insistence, but had all resorted to shooting me sympathetic looks after they assured me that Leo was fine.
"Babies cry," Tracey had told me simply as Leo slumbered peacefully against her large bosom.
I had watched her with wonder in my eyes. He had slept nearly throughout our entire visit to the hospital. I had hoped that the worst was over. I had laid him in his crib for ten minutes when we got back to the flat before he started screaming again.
I put the bottle back on the table and glanced at the clock above the television again. 4:22.
Leo's cries had changed to agonized hiccoughs with intermittent wails in between. This was typically how it went each night. After two or three hours of constant and persistent screaming with me begging him to stop, he would finally tire himself out to the point that he would fall asleep.
I watched him, still silently begging him, until he fell asleep. When he finally hiccoughed himself into unconsciousness, I just stared at the ceiling, thankful and tired and scared and miserable.
I couldn't. I can't. Nothing was going right. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Leo. Scorpius. All of it. Everything. It was supposed to be different. It was… supposed to be… something… It shouldn't… I didn't… What was I going to…?
Mmm… coffee…
Something smelled like heaven.
Something smelled like…
Coffee.
And…
Mmm… bacon.
My eyes fluttered open. I was on my stomach, my limbs sprawled out, my right leg hanging off the edge of the couch. I turned my head to look at the clock over the television. 11:41.
11… What?
And then—HOLY SHIT—I jumped up.
I crushed him. I killed him. I killed my son. I—
"Well, good morning to you."
I looked over into my kitchen where my mother—my mother?—was standing, her hair in a loose knot at the base of her neck, Leo in one arm while she flipped bacon with her free hand. She laid down the spatula and turned to face me.
And, naturally, as soon as I saw her smiling at me, I burst into tears.
"Oh! Oh, honey," I heard Hermione say as I collapsed back onto the couch, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.
I glanced up and watched as Hermione walked over to where I was sitting on the sofa, my knees bent in front of me and my face buried in my knees. When she sat across from me, I wiped my face and she nudged at my legs with her elbow. I put my legs down and she put Leo's sleeping form in my arms.
"Mum—"
I heard a thump outside my front door and I whipped my head around to see my father walking through the door.
"They were out of those cinnamon crunch ones that Cheeks likes," he said quietly, as if he was trying not to wake anyone—that would be me—"But I got cinnamon raisin so I hope that's good." He pulled the key out of the door and looked up. "Oh, you're up. Rosie?" He looked concerned as he walked in and shut the door behind him and saw my face red and splotchy and streaked with tears and my mother beside me. "What happened?"
"What are you guys doing here?"
Ron walked over to the counter and put down the bagels. "Granny flooed," he said.
"I put fruit and yogurt in the refrigerator," Hermione said to him. "No bacon for you."
He shot her a dirty look over his shoulder. My mother just smirked.
"Granny—why—is everyone okay?"
"Oh, no, no, nothing—"
"Yes, honey, everyone is fine," Hermione said as Ron riffled through the refrigerator, voice muffled. "Second shelf—that bowl, yes—no, Granny's clock." Hermione turned back to me. "You know Granny's old clock with the whole families' hands on it?"
I nodded.
Granny—my father's mother—had this magical clock. It used to only have hands for Granny and Grandad, my father, my aunt, and uncles. When the family expanded over the years, the clock expanded. The size of the clock grew along with the number of hands on the clock. Now it had a hand for me and every single one of my cousins. It was pretty outrageous at this point, but there was something endearing about it—something about it that made me feel safe and secure and loved.
"She flooed last night and said that your hand changed," Ron called from the kitchen.
"Ronald Weasley, get away from that bacon."
I glanced over and saw my father's hand hovering over the plate. I covered my mouth with my hand and snorted.
"I was just going to bring some over for Rose," he said, although the forced attempt at innocence in his voice suggested quite the opposite.
"Yeah, okay, Ron. You're forgetting I've known you for over thirty years. Bring her a plate with eggs and bacon—"
"Coffee, too, please," I called to him, trying not to laugh at him with his hands caught in the cookie jar.
"Anyway," Hermione said to me, still glancing at my father occasionally. "Granny said your hand changed."
I frowned and then it dawned on me. "Oh, I went to the hospital the other night—"
"You went to the hospital?" both of my parents exclaimed together.
"I—" I opened my mouth and closed it, confused by the outburst. My mother took Leo out of my arms as my father placed a plate of eggs and bacon in my hands and then sat in the chair catty-corner across from us. He sat on the edge of the chair, eating yogurt and looking concerned.
"Hermione—"
"They're flaxseeds, Ronald. No, she didn't say you went to the hospital. Last night she said it changed to 'lost.'"
The feeling of incredulity and near devastation washed over me instantly.
"It said I was lost?"
"You went to the hospital?"
I looked at Ron, who was looking at me with expectant eyes.
I shook my head. "It was nothing. Leo—he—he won't stop crying." I put down the plate Ron had given me, untouched. My appetite had vanished. "Mum…" I glanced at Leo, who was starting to stir a bit. "He hates me."
"Rose—"
"Honey, no."
"Yes, mum. He does. He hates me. He just… God, he won't stop crying—"
"Cheeks, he's a baby."
"I know that, Ron. I know. But… like, look." I gestured toward my mother. "When Hermione holds him he's peaceful. When I took him to the hospital he stopped crying when the nurses held him. When I touch him he goes ballistic."
"All the time?" Hermione asked gently.
I shrugged, knowing she was trying to make a point. "Well… no, not always, but—"
"Let me tell you a story," Hermione said. I looked at her warily. She smiled. "Rose, when you were a baby, you cried a lot—"
I scoffed. "Oh, so you're saying I deserve this. 'You reap what you sew.'"
Hermione shook her head, smiling gently. "No, no, not at all. Although wait until he's about thirteen and starts calling you by your first name and rolling his eyes at every word you say. Then I'll start telling you you've reaped what you've sewn." She arched an eyebrow at me and, naturally, I rolled my eyes. Leo started to fuss a bit and she passed him to me. "I think he's hungry."
I nodded and took him from her. I glanced at my father who was shoveling down his yogurt. I pulled out my breast for Leo to nurse just as my father set his bowl of yogurt down and looked up. My eyes widened when he looked up.
"Oh, please," he said with a wave of his hand. "I've seen your mother and your aunts do this hundreds of times. I've been desensitized. And I changed your diapers."
Hermione laughed and I glared at both of them.
"Well things have changed quite a bit since then," I said as I pulled Leo towards me. I winced a bit.
He shrugged. "Go on with your story, babe."
"Oh," Hermione said. "Yes, well, you cried a lot. When you were a baby, your father and I decided that we would take turns staying at home for the first year. I would stay home for a month and then your father would."
"Sounds progressive," I said with a smirk.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at me but then went on. "Well, your father said he would stay home for the first month. So I went to work. When that first month was over I was so excited to come back to you. I couldn't wait to spend the month with you. You were the most beautiful baby in the world."
"Those blue eyes," Ron said, smiling to himself.
My mother nodded in agreement. "But when I got back… It was a rough month. You cried… incessantly. I mean, you would scream bloody murder and never stop. And there was nothing I could do to make it better. You would cry and cry all day except when you were asleep. And then your father would come home and pick you up and you would smile. I was sick—I mean absolutely sick with jealousy.
"One day, after about four months of this, I finally broke down. One night Ron and I were about to go to bed." She laughed and looked over at dad. "I remember you were reading Pride and Prejudice because Ginny had said something about you lacking all sense of romance and that maybe Mr. Darcy could teach you something and she teased you about when the last time you'd actually read a book was." She smiled at him and he scoffed good-naturedly, murmuring about how he knew plenty about romance. And I watched them, and I was so envious of the love they shared that it nearly killed me in that moment.
I watched them while they were remembering me, remembering the beginning of the family they had created together, and I envied their love. I wanted what they had.
The realization struck me.
I want what my parents have. Love, mutual respect, deep and everlasting friendship with someone you would die for. I wanted that.
And I wanted it with Scorpius.
The thought didn't even shock me. But the fact that it didn't made me a bit unsettled.
"I told Ron that you hated me and that I couldn't do this," Hermione's voice interrupted my thoughts. I frowned and listened to her, trying to erase the thoughts that had occupied my mind. "And that if we didn't have a mother-daughter connection now we never would. Nonsense like that. That night we laid in bed and I just sobbed and sobbed. I was so afraid that you hated me. I was so afraid that I was doing everything wrong and that I was going to screw you up and that you would never have a good mother. I was so worried, and Ron just listened to my insane ravings and told me everything would be okay.
"And then one day it was." She sighed and smiled. Then she reached forward and put a hand on my knee. "One day… I remember you were about four months old—it was toward the end of our second full month together. I was holding you and waiting for you to fall asleep for a nap while I was reading something for work. At one point I moved the paper and put it on the table." She mimicked the motion and curled her arm up like she was holding an invisible baby. "And I looked down at you and you were… smiling at me. You had pulled a piece of my hair into your hands and you were looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes—I mean, you had the most beautiful blue eyes. You still do," she said, laughing to herself.
"And those cheeks," my father said, smiling and shaking his head.
Hermione laughed. "Those cheeks!" She grinned at me. "But those huge blue eyes on an adorable baby, I mean, I could stare at them for hours. And you were looking right at me. And you were smiling."
Hermione looked up at me. "You know I loved you since the moment you were born—since the moment they placed you in my arms, I fell in love with you. But in that moment… in that moment when you looked at me and you were smiling, I loved you more than I had ever loved anything. And"—she chuckled—"I knew I was being stupid and that you couldn't possibly hate me."
I looked down at Leo, who had finished eating and was now gazing at me. I lifted the strap of my tank to cover myself up and looked back at him.
"Look at him," my mother said. "He couldn't possibly hate you. You gave him life and—"
"And besides that, honey, he's a baby," my father said with a laugh. "Babies do not have the capacity to hate. They only know how to love."
Hermione nodded. "Your father is absolutely right—"
"Wow," Ron interrupted. "Say that again. I never get to hear that."
Hermione rolled her eyes and looked over at him. "Well, don't get used to it," she said before turning back to me. "As rarely as it happens," she amended, "your father is right. He can't hate you. He doesn't know how to hate. He hasn't been hurt and damaged by the world yet."
I looked down into his gray eyes that were just like Scorpius's. He was so pure. So innocent. No one had hurt him. He wasn't bitter or jaded or afraid of getting his heart broken. He wasn't scared of anything except for being hungry and having a full diaper or not being held. I smiled. He was perfect and tiny, and I would do whatever I could to make him happy and safe. I was his mother and I loved him, and, really, that was all he needed. And I realized my mother was right. He couldn't hate me. The only thing it took for a baby to love you was to love him as much as he needed to be. And I loved him more than I could possibly imagine, and that was all that mattered.
"Cheeks."
I looked up at my father.
"There's another thing you should know." I nodded to show I was listening, and he continued. "Raising a baby is hard. It's terrifying the first time you do it, and it's mostly just trial and error and hoping you don't screw up completely." My mother was nodding and smiling. "We were scared, but the thing is… We had each other. Rose." He reached over to take my mother's hand and she gripped it, looking at him. "You are not alone."
Immediately, my eyes welled with tears, and I gave them a watery smile.
"You have got your mother and I, your brother when he's in town, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, Albus, and about a thousand cousins, friends, aunts, and uncles who would do anything for you and that baby." He tilted his head slightly as if to tell me to really take that in. I swallowed. "I'm serious, sweetheart," he said. "You've got an army of people who love you who would jump if you asked. I know you pride yourself on being this independent and strong woman, and you are." I looked down. My parents had no idea how weak I was, how much I needed everyone around me. I pretended to be strong, but I wasn't. "You really are," Ron emphasized as if he read my thoughts, and I looked back up. "And we are so proud of that woman that you've become." My mother looked at me and nodded in agreement. "But raising a baby is hard enough, and doing it on your own is nearly impossible. And you don't have to do it alone. Do you understand?"
I nodded quickly, trying to fight back the tears that desperately wanted to fall. And I wanted to believe that he was right—that I was independent and strong—but I just knew that I wasn't. In the past few years all of my independence had completely fallen by the wayside. I had found myself dependent on Scorpius and Hadley before him and the way they made me feel. I couldn't be that way anymore. I had to depend on me. I had to do that for me, and for Leo.
"Thanks, dad," I said hoarsely.
Ron held up a hand. "I'm not finished."
"Uh-oh," my mum said with a laugh. I smiled at her and looked back at Ron.
He glared at both of us and continued. "You don't just have us and the rest of the family… Rose…" A crease formed between Ron's eyebrows. "You have Scorpius."
I barely contained a gasp.
From the first moment that my father had found out that Scorpius was my boyfriend, he had been more than a little skeptical. To say the least. He also hadn't tried hard at all to hide his displeasure. My mother's mantra to him had been, "Ronald, he's not Draco," but that didn't stop my father from narrowing his eyes any time he laid eyes on Scorpius. And it certainly didn't stop him from nearly overturning the kitchen table when I first brought Scorpius home to meet my parents and to explain things. My father wanted to know if he had manipulated me somehow when the realization dawned that we had started seeing each other when I was still at Hogwarts. When he saw how happy Scorpius made me, however, he had backed off only slightly, his love for me outweighing his disdain for the Malfoy family.
When Scorpius had broken up with me, it was the first time that I had actually been afraid of my father. When he saw me curled up on my couch I thought he would go to the ends of the earth to find Scorpius and murder him. It was terrifying, but also strangely sweet.
But this… This was huge. For Ron to acknowledge that Scorpius had made me happy and that he was a person that was worth my time… Man, I must have looked really desperate and pathetic.
"Dad—"
"Now, I know I've never liked him much—"
I scoffed.
"Understatement of the year," Hermione murmured.
"—but he is Leo's father, and…" He looked almost pained to be saying it. "He loves you."
The smirk that I had been wearing at my father swallowing his pride slipped immediately. "What—"
"He loves you, Cheeks. He was at your side during this whole thing, even more than I was, probably even more than Hermione was." Hermione nodded and looked at me smugly. I would have rolled my eyes but I was too stunned to do anything. "I know he hurt you, and as much as I wanted to—" He held his hands up in a strangling motion and then dropped them and grimaced.
"You don't come across a love like that often," Ron said. He glanced at my mother and grabbed her hand again. She smiled at him adoringly and he looked at her for a long moment before he looked back at me. "But when you do, you hold onto it."
After my parents left, I had stared at Leo, watching him watch me or look around the rest of the room. I watched him until he fell asleep and then I studied him in my arms, wanting to memorize the way he looked—happy and peaceful and content and safe in my arms. I touched his face and kissed him and smelled him and held him close.
Eventually it started to get dark, so I brought him to his cradle, knowing that he would be up soon anyway, either hungry, needing to be changed, or just wanting to be noticed.
I walked around my flat, replaying the conversation with my parents over and over and over in my head.
"You don't come across a love like that often."
My father… I almost laughed out loud… He despised Scorpius, to put it lightly. He truly did. And for him to…
"But when you do, you hold onto it."
I turned on the stove and filled up my kettle with water. Then I leaned against the counter, staring at the bouquet of flowers that Ainsley and Meg had sent me, still thinking.
"He loves you."
Scorpius had said he wanted me back when we had talked in the hospital that first night that I woke up. He told me he wanted me back. Words that I truly and deeply never thought I would hear him say. And it was one thing for my mother—the hopeless fucking romantic—and Albus—always and forever charmed by Scorpius—to tell me to give him another chance, but for my father—Ronald Weasley, eternal hater of the Malfoys—to be in his corner. Jesus. The writing was on the wall.
"…you hold onto it."
My kettle started to sing, interrupting my thoughts. I poured it over the bag of chamomile, splashed a bit of milk in and then walked to my bedroom.
I was staring at Leo's crib, sipping tea, when I heard my mobile vibrating.
I glanced at my bedside table, gasped, and then scrambled to put down my tea and answer.
"Hello?" I said, slightly breathlessly.
"Hi."
God, his voice melted over me like melted, sweet, flowing chocolate, seeping into my veins and lighting me up. It was incredible and surreal to hear his voice again, almost as if no time had passed. But time had passed, things had changed, and now…
"Scorpius." I moved to sit on my bed, crossing my legs under me.
I heard a small intake of breath and then, "How are you?"
"Fine," I said quietly. "Tired."
"I bet." I heard the smile in his voice. Then his voice changed, tensed, grew more serious. "Rose, we need to talk." He paused.
"I know."
"And I want to see Leo."
I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "I know."
There was a long pause and then he exhaled. "I have to see you."
"Thursday," I breathed in a rush. His voice was doing strange things to my insides and the sooner I got him off the phone, the better. "I'll make you dinner."
"You don't have—"
"I want to." Even I recognized the desperation in my voice, the need.
"Okay," he said a bit hoarsely. "Thursday."
"Okay."
"Time?"
"Seven."
There was another pause, and the only sound I could hear was my own erratic breathing.
"Rose, I can't wait to see you," he whispered.
I gasped and then immediately fumbled, trying to hang up the phone before I said something needy, something that would give away all my inner thoughts and fears. I finally clicked the button and tossed the phone across the bed like it was a hot potato.
Then I started replaying it over and over, naturally.
"Rose, I can't wait—"
I was never more thankful for anything in the world when Leo started crying.
A/N: Okay, so, first of all, thank you for your AS ALWAYS amazing reviews. It is obvious to me that so many of you are really invested in these two, and I'm so glad because so am I! You all have lots of things you want to happen in these chapters, and I hope that I can make everyone happy with how everything develops.
So just an FYI, this story is going to be full of Rose considering how she can possibly forgive Scorpius after everything that happened (obviously) and about Rose really rebuilding and discovering who she is as a person and a mother, with and without Scorpius. She will do this through flashbacks, conversations with people who love her (just like chapters 6 and 7), and through music. These three themes will be very present in this story as you will come to notice. Chapters 8 and 12 in particular make a lot of use of flashback. I know some people aren't fond of flashbacks, but I'm the writer and I love it, SO IT'S HAPPENING. Some of the flashbacks will be from WU, but some of them will be moments you haven't seen before that have only existed in my head, and they are important. I mean, to me, everything that goes on in Rose's head is important, but what do I know? Don't think that anything is filler. I choose the particular flashbacks and conversations and songs/musical moments for very specific reasons so pay attention. This story is largely about Rose's journey, and the beginning especially is her doing her own soul searching, without Scorpius. So if Scorpius doesn't seem to be present much in the next couple chapters, don't be alarmed! And just know that there is a method to my madness.
Okay that's enough rambling for now BYE.
