A/N: Chapter 10 hath arrived to all ye muggles... Joking joking. I'm feeling Shakespearean today, hence the language^. Thank you my lovely readers you honestly inspire me with sticking with little ol' Rose and her sharp comments. Hmm, teaser or nah? This is one of my favorite chapters (because the ending just...Wow- lots of foreshadowing there friends...). To all you who've read my Dramione fic I'll be updating that by Thursday if not before *crosses fingers*. In three words I guess this chapter is: promotion, letter, prophecy. Happy reading! :)
Grandma Molly wraps us both in a comforting bear hug, squeezing us against her and beaming proudly at us. We eventually disentangle from her grasp and I'm eased by her presence in our living room. Grandma Weasley checks us both from toe to crown and fusses like she usually does-
"Hugo! Rose! I haven't seen you both in goodness knows how long- Are you both alright? Is school okay, Rose? Was the travelling all safe and well? Oh dearies, you must be starving! I'll just put together a plate of cookies from off the cooling rack…" She swishes her wand and the cookies levitate off the rack and float over to a large porcelain plate with yellow-dressed ladies waltzing along the rim. With another swish of her wand a magical record player sprouts wooden legs and buttercup yellow clogs and stumbles its way closer across the room before picking out its own record with wooden fingers and placing it atop its boxy head as though it were a hat. I giggle at the funny sight and only stop when a large glass of cold milk is pushed into my hand by Hugo and the delicious cookies are set onto the coffee table. Mum hangs up her winter coat and strides over to Molly's open embrace. Dipping the chocolate chip cookie in my milk, I take a seat onto my favourite purple armchair and soak in the sights of my home which I'd missed while away.
The living room is carpeted in an amber colour (Dad's preference; mum would've much preferred a simple cream) and it's home of many bizarre and wonderful things. Along the opposite war to the brown wooden door is a 'show wall' which is cerulean blue though you can't really see it under the framed family photos, some Kandinsky artwork, a magicked clock which is confusingly created with planets and orbital shifts rather than simpler dials and numbers, a calendar with lots of scrawls appearing and reappearing upon it, mum's graduation photo, Hugo's cubs certificates and my spelling bee and academic commendations. Underneath the busy wall is an original fireplace, connected up to the floo network of course and decorated with expansive brass decor. Across from the fireplace is the Paisley print sofa that grandma, mum and Hugo are sat on and the mug-stained coffee table. Bean bag chairs and a large bookcase dominate the indigo painted wall on the left side and on the right our television and game consoles overrule their tucked away corner. My armchair and another couch are on the right side (painted honey gold) and dad plonks himself onto the leather lazyboy armchair next to the mound of bean bag chairs opposite my side. I take wriggling
Tinker from her place in my pocket and she tumbles across my lap looking a little travel sick.
I stroke her, smoothing down her fuzzed up fur and cooing sweet nothings to my beloved kitten. Hugo, spotting Tinker, runs to the kitchen. I tune into mum and grandma's conversation:
"What's your job like at the moment, dear?" The senior matriarch queries. "Is your department treating you well?" I nibble at my cookie and sigh dreamily at the crumbly goodness. Mum glances at her fingers clasped on her lap and takes a breath before replying: "My department of Magical Law was making much progress. House Elves now have to have the opportunity given to them beforehand whether they want payment and they no longer are bound to years of servitude under not having proper attire. We've set down notions of them wearing whatever suits their fancy and it is up to contracts drawn by their own hands which decide the length of time they work for somebody. Werewolves also have much more opportunities for work; it's only the vampire's isolatory response from interaction with wizards and witches which is proving a challenge to us at the moment." Grandma passes a cookie to my mum, questioning gently, "If that's the case, why is it you look so worn out, dear? Surely it is not the vampires who are causing unrest?" I look up from Tinker, noting the worry in Grandma's voice and the way mum looks shifty and hesitates a little too long before responding. Hugo, takes this moment to rush in with a piece of ham dangling from his hand and make a beeline for Tinker. I let him take her from off my lap and try make out mum's speech through Hugo's usual babble. Dad's the one who finally pipes up, taking us all by surprise.
"Hermione's been offered a promotion." he says. On paper the words sound meaningless, perhaps congratulatory. But it's the jibe interlaced in his tone, the narrow eyed jealous glare, the complete disdain which truly makes Dad's words cause uneasiness to settle among us.
"Ron, you know that I never asked for the job-"
"Of course not, dear." he mocks, "I'm sure that it wasn't your long hours at the office and neglection of me and Hugo which drove them to-"
"Neglection? When have I ever neglected either of my children?" Hermione interrupts, sounding cross. "Hugo has school while I'm working and, need you forget, it's my income which pays the bills and provides for our family." Ron stands up, face flushed in anger, eyes fixated on his wife.
"And there you go again with all your 'I make more money than you' and 'Hey, look everybody at me and my perfect job' rubbish. I swear, you kiss your coffee cup more than you do me." His voice raises higher and higher, until he's practically shouting. Hugo clambers onto my lap, his face pale and body trembling. I hug him closer to my side, keeping a wary look at the scene unfolding around us. Why is Dad acting so mad all of a sudden? I can't remember ever hearing mum rub her job or money in his face; if anything, she prefers asking how the joke shop is going…
Grandma stands up, tone steely and firm as she demands Ron to "Go cool off for a bit." With a slam of the front door and incomprehensible murmurs under his breath Ron does as he's told, not quite brave enough to argue against his own mother. Mum exhales shakily at the bang of the front door. Hugo wriggles off my lap, releasing Tinker, and climbing atop my mother's. She hugs Hugo close to her and frown down at where Ron disappeared from.
"What was that all about?" Grandma voices our thoughts.
"Hugo, sweetheart, would you go make me and grandma a nice cup of tea? Rose you can go help supervise." Hugo diligently ambles into the kitchen and sets about putting the kettle on. I shake my head.
"I want to stay mum." I plead. Her chocolate eyes beg me to leave it be and even grandma hustles me away from the room. Moodily. I traipse away, then feeling a spark of innovation I run upstairs to go find the Extendable Ears Uncle George got my for christmas last year. I don't even take the time to marvel at my newly-cleaned room or idly fondle my stuffed toy collection; I'm way too focussed on digging out the ears from my drawers. Leafing through piles of books, playing cards and a bunch of letters from Alice that I'd kept over the years I finally locate the ears. I run downstairs then creep closer to the door. I pray mum hasn't spelled the entire room quiet because I can only work past a charm on the door. Fortunately the ears work and I'm able to decipher what they are both saying.
"-Ron doesn't like the idea of me becoming Minister of Magic. He says that it'll take up too much of my time and that he's already feeling left out and abandoned over my paperwork."
"Ron always has been like that, even as a child," Grandma reflects "Whenever he made a friend or had something new given to him he'd hide it from all his other brother's and hated sharing what he owned."
"But he must learn to-" mum persists, "-I understand that he's possessive but I can hardly quit my job over his selfishness. I love Ron to pieces but he's never really understood how valuable my work is to me, how not only is it beneficial for my own expansion of knowledge but how it benefits entire communities of creatures and magical individuals across the UK."
"Give him time, dear. I'm sure he'll come round to your work knows you put your best into everything you do and being a housewife?" Grandma scoffs aloud "-it would be a waste of your talents, Hermione, love." Inching closer, I step on a creaky floorboard and I still, fearing they'd heard me. Tiptoeing hurriedly back upstairs I hide myself behind the bannister and pray that no one noticed my stooping. I re-bury my ears in the drawer proclaiming 'Useful trinkets', mind whirring with what I'd just heard. Mum being Mister is great! I know she'd always aspired to further the Ministry of Magic as far as she could and this is a dream opportunity for her! I can't believe dad's being so strange about it. He knows how much mum loves us all- shouldn't that be enough?
When I return back downstairs, Hugo gives me a look which clearly says 'I saw you doing that sneaky ears act' and I make a zipping gesture across my lips, hoping he gets the message. He does but I can see he wants to know what I'd heard. I stroke my old tabby as he weaves through my legs and am relatively pleased to see the conversation has changed to 'Uncle Charlie's latest adventure in Bulgaria.' I finish my last bit of milk and cookie and smile at Crookshanks who's curled up on mum's knee. He's a massive cat- more dog-like than cat- with a squashed up face. Dda hates him. He hates Dad. I'd always been fond of the cat myself; but then again, I liked all animals. The record plays 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles as I settle back onto my armchair. The rest of the day is spent reading Book Three from The Skulduggery Pleasant Series and chatting with my family.
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When I'm tucked into my bed and the owls have started hooting outside, I finally put down my book and get up to brush my teeth and wash my face. Grandma Weasley had gone home hours ago, kissing mine and Hugo's cheeks and leaving baked goods on the kitchen counter. She'd triple checked with mum that we were coming to the Burrow in two days time to spend the rest of the two week christmas break at the Burrow.
Bleary-eyed and stumbling, I wander into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and wash my face before noticing a shape behind the shower curtain. Remembering some creepy scenes from my Doctor-Who marathons at school, I'm apprehensive when shoving the curtain aside. I jump at the sight of Hugo's sleeping body. His freckled face is smushed up against the side of the bath and he shivers under his dark green blanket. His carrot-top hair is sticking up at odd angles making him look like Albus. I remember the awful dream of Alus crying out for me, bleeding and broken. I brush it off and gather my not-so-little nine year old brother in my arms. I grunt at the weight but feel it's my duty to at least give my brother more comfort than falling asleep in the tub. I wonder why he was in there in the first place. I snap off the light and go back into the hallway. I hear the sound of my dad returning at last. I hear mum's hushed yet frantic whispers of "where have you been!?" and Dad's drunken slur that he was "Out with friends." I don't want their arguing to disturb Hugo so I make a quick fire decision and take him to my room. I tuck him onto my bed, shuffling along so we can both fit atop the mattress. I hold his hand only to feel something papery clasped between his fingers. Grabbing the duvet I cover us both up from the cold and finger by finger I unclasp his firm grip to see what he's got. When I see it, my eyes feel a little bit wetter tha before and my breath comes in short pants. I wonder if my emotions are spurring on a panic attack. However, there's no Nick with me to hold my hand and stop me from teetering over the edge. No chocolate brown eyes to soothe me or hug to hold on to. I look at Hugo, his brow furrowed in troubled sleep. I run a shaking hand over his freckled cheeks, the eyelids which are fluttering slightly. I force myself to take deep breaths to ignore the incriminating paper in my hand. Slowly, oh so slowly, I stop myself from a full-fledged freak out. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I hide the picture. I bundle Hugo in my arms and try forget the black and white photo of mum and dad. It's not just any photo. This photo shows a beaming Hermione looking at a loving Ron. They're utterly consumed by one another. Dad wears a smart tux with a silly looking bowtie and mum an elegant, lace white dress. It's their wedding photo.
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The next two days go by in peace. Dad apologises profusely for his action and kisses mum in an exaggerated show of lovey-doveyness. Hugo 'eww''s at the display and I hide my grin in my book. We decorate the tree Dad and Uncle George went out to chop down and collect on their mini- road-trip. Mum hosted a coffee morning for Auntie Angelina and Mrs Abbott. I read throughout the days and joined Hugo when he was digging up worms and caterpillars in the garden. Alice couldn't come round- which was a shame as she lived on my street- because she'd gone to her Nanna's in Ireland for a week. On our last day at home we decorated the tree with red and gold baubles. Dad remarked- as he did every year- of how it "Took him back to his Gryffindor days" and I suddenly felt rather awkward net to Dad; who was oblivious of what he'd just said. Mum sent me a sympathetic look and I hid myself from the pity they held by excusing myself from the tree-decorating to go upstairs and read. I wrote letters to Kat, Diamond, Nick and Olivia telling them I was staying at the Burrow and asking them about their holidays so far. Nick was the only one to respond on the same day. His owl hooted at me and I hurried to open my window and un-ribbon the letter tied to its foot.
"Thank you, Ivory." I thank the jet-black bird. I'd always found it ironic and amusing how he'd named his bird the opposite of it's colour. When I'd enquired over its name choice one breakfast morning, Nick had only given me a cheeky grin and replied "I like the ones who break the stereotypes." I'd felt a happy glow, recalling how I'd effectively broken my Weasley stereotype by being Slytherin. Ivory hoots back and I feed her a couple of seeds before she flies off. The letter has no envelope but it doesn't matter in the least. After sitting next to him in Charms and on the breakfast table, I was by now well-accustomed to his spider-like scrawl.
Dear Rose,
Thanks for telling me about you going to the Burrow and all, also: good luck with your cousins. I'm sure they'll get used to your new Hogwarts House with time- but try not to add more time to your waiting by letting that snarky tongue get the best of you (yup, I heard what you said to your cousin and uncle in the station! Haha, you rebel…)! So far I've been driven half mad by Genevie's arguing and how she pretty much loathes dad's girlfriend and her daughter (who is… Quite unexpected to say the least.) Gabrielle and me have been playing Quidditch with friends to distract ourselves. Are you looking forward to Quidditch next year? I can't wait to sign up for the team- it should be awesome, 'specially with the players we have already. Talking of Quidditch did you hear the result of last night's game? If not, check it out. You owe me a sickle and a couple of knuts for the results! :) Wish you were here,
Nick
I smiled at the letter and had been surprised to find that the Chudley Cannons had won a game for the first time in decades against the Appleby Arrows. I'd written a letter back. And was still waiting upon a response the day after when I'd been ushered to the living room so we could floo over to the burrow.
Dad carried a couple cases of luggage over before returning for more then disappearing again into the crackling neon flames. Hugo and mum went next and I brought up the rear. I hated traveling by floo. It made my stomach lurch in sickness and my body feel all wobbly and stretched out. When I was back on solid ground, I breathed a sigh of relief and succumbed to the hugging of Dominique and a couple other cousins. Granddad Weasley wasted no time in launching conversation with Hugo over his Star Wars DVD's that Hugo had apparently leant him. My mismatched home dulls slightly in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the Burrow. I'm always struck by awe at how cramped and homely it is.
Like for example, right now there is a million and one things happening all at once. The open doors and noise notifies me of what most are doing. Grandad and Hugo are completely fangirling over Star Wars at the dining table. James and Fred are conspiring by the whistling kettle (it literally whistles! Right now it's whistling out the tune "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside" as it boils its water). Victoire is painting Lily's nails hot pink while Roxanne paints Lucy's Peppa-pig pink- further down the dining table. Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie are on de-gnoming duties in the garden. Teddy is reading an advance Defence Against The Dark Arts textbook. Even Luna is there, sipping a Blue Lagoon cocktail while paging through the Quibbler. Uncle Harry wanders in from the landing and greets us warmly. I'm not sure why but I feel like dad's response to his best friend is a little… Less genuine than normal.
However, it's christmas eve and I'm still hyped up on festival happiness. Dominique offers me a Candy Cane and I'm not in the least surprised when it transforms into a toy snake as soon as it touches my lips. Dominique cackles at the rubber snake which makes an occasional 'Hiss hiss beyatches' in a sassy voice every thirty seconds or so.
"Desolée… Sorry…" she gasped between laughter. I roll my eyes and smile a little at the clever trick.
"You're such a witch." I tease, examining the sassy little snake in mild admiration. Dominique winks at me, asking: "Do you like zit? I learnt ze trick at Beauxbatons… I thought it suitable- s sassy snake for a sassy Slytherin." James and Fred look up from their conspiring and I can feel my other cousins' ears perk up a well. I wonder amusedly whether they think I'm gonna explode at Dom or something. Silly, cousins. Don't you realise it's only those who take my House badly who I'm mad at?
"'Course I like it. I knew that you'd be the one who wouldn't act all prissy about my Sorting." I hug Dom, feeling affection towards the girl. When we depart the snake slips from my grip and is accio'd over to Uncle George. He looks at the snake closely.
"How did you do this?" he asks Dom. She strolls over to tell him and he gapes at her genius in craftsmanship. James and Fred join in and I leave the group to go find a secluded place to write to my school friends.
In the hallway, I bump into the twins: Lysander and Lorcan. Lorcan looks wary of me, surveying my presence and looking dubiously at his twin whose expression is the complete opposite. Lysander looks eager and friendly and holds out his hand with no hesitation. Confused, I take the palm and find myself holding hands with a twin I had never once spoken to before. He and his brother escort me up three flights of stairs to the attic. Me ,being me, means that I was questioning them all the way there.
"Wait! Where are you going? Why are you both here? I don't understand…" Up and up we go. Until we're in the attic (which has been remodified into more of a hangout den). Lysander relaxes his hand and I yank mine free. "Rude." I mutter at their ignoring me.
I stomp into the middle of the room, spin on my foot and plant my hands onto my hips as I stare defiantly at the Lovegood twins.
"What? What is it that was so important you had to drag me all the way up here for?" I demand, eyes flinting. The twins (who I can only really identify by their body language) react in different ways. Lorcan looks guilty and cautious. I think that he think I'm gonna suddenly launch myself at him despite him being in his third year of school, meaning he's bigger and stronger than me which would uneven the odds. Lysander is inching closer to me and seems to be on the verge of blurting something. Strange considering he's usually the reserved twin. I wonder if I've mixed the both of them up. My question is answered by what Lysander- yes, it is Lysander- speaks next.
"I saw you listening to me in the library. I sensed your aura and I can still sense it now." I open my mouth but no words fall from my lips. "Sorry. It was Lorcan's idea to cast a silencing charm on you." Lysander apologises, shrugging his shoulders a little. I feel my first bout of fear since the two took me up here. What the holy hell is going on here? Why the fuck do I need to be silenced!?
"Don't panic. We're not here to hurt you or anything, we just wish to talk." I jab my finger at my lips exaggerating how it's gonna be pretty damn hard for me to talk with them. Lysander steps towards me and I step back. He steps again; I step back. This recurs until I find myself against the wall and I'm suddenly very aware of the curiosity sparking in Lysander's eyes. He no longer looks dreamy and innocent as a lamb but as calculating and earnest as a scientist. My eyes widen in fear.
"Your aura-" Lysander breathes in awe, stroking my cheek with his knuckles as if entranced "-is-"
Sadly, I didn't get to hear what my aura was at that moment because Lorcan had decided to intervene and shove Lysander away from me with a hand on his twin's shoulder.
"Tone it down a little, bro. You're scaring her." he scolds. And sure enough, I'm terrified. Something is not quite right with Lysander and I'll be damned if I don't try find out what. Lysander snaps back to himself in a heartbeat and the calculative look is gone. He waves his wand and I can suddenly speak again.
"You-" I lift a trembling finger at Lysander. "-stay away from me." He looks put out by my request. Lorcan rakes a hand over his hair and gestures for me to take a seat. "I'll stand." I reply, coolly.
"I'm sorry about my brother. What we wanted to say was that we've heard about your feud with Vanessa and we've consulted the centaurs over your future, Rose. We were curious because of how much you've already stirred up at school and we're apprehensive of complete 'Mean Girls' drama re-occuring." He pauses.
"What did they say?" I prompt, despite my best sense I'm truly interested. Lysander replies:
"'The witch with crimson roots and green robes will be our greatest saviour and damnation. She will become both villain and hero. Nothing is as simple as it is made out, especially when it comes to both love and war. The dead will have risen because of her but will not rest until she is among them. She is prophesied to be betrayed by the one she trusts the most. Per aspera ad astra." My throat turns dry.
"What does that mean?" I croak out, aghast. The two twins speak as one;
"Through hardship to the stars." We quieten. I stumble into a chair. The twins leave. Lorcan apologises for causing unrest. He tells me to find him if I need anything and that although he doesn't really trust me, he trusts that I'll keep this a secret. My nod is my only answer. Lysander lingers. He studies me, through me and about me at the same time. He throws something at me and I have to use my Quidditch reflexes to catch the item. It's a stone, round and onyx black. It has a hole into the middle of it. I don't know what it is or why he's given it to me.
"Use this," he says over his shoulder as he leaves, "It will help you find the answers you will one day seek."
And with that, the cryptic twins are gone, leaving me with a intangible sorrow and whirlwind of befuddled questions.
The dead will have risen because of her but will not rest until she is among them.
Aw, hell...