Hey everyone! Once again, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, follows and PMS!
that red head girl 14: Yes, sorry, I know it was a bit slow, especially with the long letter. Though this chapter isn't too much faster, I promise we'll be moving to a new (faster) bit of plot soon.
The Three Stoogies: Thank you, glad you liked it!
Helen: Though Arithmancy isn't math, it does revolve around the use of numbers, and we know from the books that Hermione was assigned many long, arduous-looking numerical charts as homework.
Manny654: Thank you for your kind words :) I'll try to keep updating every week, but it'll probably be more like every two (or even, dare I say it, three :/). I'm a full-time student, and my classes this semester are very demanding. Still, I promise to keep writing whenever I can, and knowing there are those out there like you who waiting excitedly for new updates certainly helps keep me motivated!
Without further ado, here's the next chapter!
Reminder: Sadly, I'm not J.K. Rowling
Chapter 14
Third Year, Part Two
Astoria Malfoy passed away in the beginning of July, five days before Rose's stay at Malfoy Manor was set to begin. Scorpius sent a letter just after sunrise to inform her and hesitantly ask whether she would be able to move up the trip to that evening; his style of writing, colder and more detached than usual, suggested he was still in shock. She wrote back in the affirmative after clearing the change with her parents (she made no attempt to conceal from them the reason for the sudden switch, as she'd been told the obituary would be published in tomorrow's Daily Prophet), then spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in a dazed blur, going wildly against her usual organized style by throwing items into her trunk without folding clothes or alphabetizing books. Finally, when she was packed and there was naught to do but wait for the allotted time, Rose could find nothing more to distract her from harsh reality.
Though Astoria had been more than kind to Rose during their first and only meeting on Platform 9 ¾, the girl found she couldn't concentrate on her sorrow for the death of the woman herself. Rather, Rose's grief focused on her friend's loss, and the pain he must be experiencing. How she longed to be with him at this very minute, so that she could… but here is where she drew a blank. What could she do to console a boy she knew rather well, though not for very long, on the loss of his mother? What, really, was there to be said? Scorpius would be grieving, yes- that was normal, unavoidable. But was there really anything she could do to lessen his suffering, or to shorten its duration? She didn't believe there was. Briefly she considered brewing a Forgetfulness Potion so that, at least temporarily, he wouldn't be troubled, but soon reprimanded herself for the thought. Playing with emotions could be disastrous when done without serious consideration of the repercussions. Scorpius needed to feel the pain of losing his mother, no matter how hard it was to bear or how deeply Rose wished she could shield him; it was necessary so that he may heal, with time.
When the moment of her departure came, she hugged her parents fiercely once more, then stepped into the emerald green flames of her own fireplace and spoke in a clear voice "Malfoy Manor." For a few moments, the world around her spun, a kaleidoscope of color. Upon reaching her destination, Rose stepped over a sophisticated black metal grate and into a beautiful drawing room. She momentarily stood in awe of the scene around her, handsome dark wood floors and paneling, amazingly detailed paintings and rugs, glass cases filled with impressive artifacts, until she saw her friend as he stood from his seat in a leather armchair. Scorpius' skin was even paler than usual, providing stark contrast with dark shadows beneath his eyes; his jumper hung from his frame in awkward places, collarbone more prominent than it had been a little over a month before. What upset Rose most, though, were his eyes: their blue-grey color had lost all depth, as if they were pools of water that had now frozen over; they were distant, cold, and seemed to cut her like glass where she stood.
After a slight, uncomfortable pause, she crossed the distance between them and embraced her friend. He did not return the gesture, but rather stood stiffly in her arms. "I'm sorry, Scor," she said, refusing to let go, and after a moment he murmured "Thank you," in a strange, almost strangled tone. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor. I should show you to your room."
The rest of the house was even grander than the drawing room, just as beautiful as Rose had expected; yet as Scorpius took her on a half-hearted tour, she could barely even focus on memorizing routes to important rooms such as the library and dining room, much less the craftsmanship of the main staircase or the numerous chandeliers set with what were probably real diamonds and emeralds. All she could really think about was the sudden reversion of her friend's demeanor back to what it must have been before that first day on the Hogwarts Express (possibly even worse), distant and seemingly devoid of emotion, and how it must reflect an even larger internal change wrought by his mother's death. No wonder his father was concerned for his mental state- it was clear the Malfoy boy had never learned how to openly express his feelings, which was relatively unsurprising given his family and what she knew of his upbringing; though Draco certainly loved his son, as had Astoria, Rose doubted the ability of both to teach Scorpius about the potential psychological damage of compartmentalization. Just as last year, her friend once again seemed determined to keep everything bottled up, though certainly to a greater extent, even if that meant shutting Rose out in the process.
After showing her around the main portion of the Manor, Scorpius left Rose to her own devices so that she may settle in and freshen up before dinner. Once she had changed out of her soot-spotted jumper and into a more elegant shift dress, she decided to test her knowledge of the Manor's layout rather than focus on the more serious matter of her friend's mental state. A good ten minutes of searching resulted in her arrival at what she thought was the library. Eager to examine the family's immense collection more thoroughly, and yearning for the familiar feelings of a book in her lap and thick parchment pages between her fingers, Rose pushed open the double doors. She immediately recoiled: she had mistakenly found her way back to the drawing room, where Scorpius' father now sat with red-rimmed eyes.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm terribly sorry I disturbed you," she said in a rush. "I was looking for the library... I'll go now."
As she made to exit, however, he called out to stop her. "No, please, stay," Draco said hoarsely.
Unable to refuse his request, she wordlessly entered the drawing room and sat across from him, in the armchair Scorpius had recently vacated. She pretended not to notice as the man dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.
"I am glad you have arrived, and I hope your journey was quick and smooth."
"It was, thank you Mr. Malfoy."
"And I trust Scorpius has shown you to your room, as well as the rest of the house."
She nodded. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, until finally Rose resolved to address the giant in the room, as was proper. "I truly am sorry for your loss, Mr. Malfoy."
He nodded nodded. "Thank you, Rose." The girl expected this to be the end of things, but he soon continued. "And I apologize for startling you. I never spent a great deal of time in this room when my wife was alive, but now that she has passed I don't often leave it."
"Did she have a particular affinity for it, Mr. Malfoy?"
"No, I daresay she rather hated it."
She was puzzled, both about his answer and why he seemed to be opening up to her, but considered it rude to question him further; in another moment, however, her curiosity on one account was satiated (though for the latter it intensified dramatically).
Draco gestured to the glass cases lining the walls of the room, filled with everything from shrunken body parts to exquisitely sinister pieces of jewelry. "While Astoria often enjoyed examining my library of alchemical manuscripts, she was decidedly less fond of my other hobby- which is why it was relegated to a room we seldom use. And yet I can't help but wonder whether I would have recognized her symptoms more quickly, had I paid more attention to my collection of Dark artifacts." His voice lowered. "I wonder whether I could have saved her."
"I'm sure you did all you could, sir," she said softly. Thinking of Scorpius, and of how hopeless she felt when she thought of the new coldness in his grey eyes, Rose continued, "That's all any of us can do, really…though sometimes it doesn't feel like our best is nearly enough."
"Thank you," he replied. "Though it is difficult, I am slowly learning to accept my inadequacies, including my slowness in recognizing my wife's illness, and my probable blood relation to the wizards who cast the curse which killed her; but though I may eventually learn to live with myself, I don't believe I will ever truly grow used to living without her."
After a pause, Rose said hesitantly, "I only hope that Scorpius learns to grieve and heal as you seem to have, sir. From what I've seen, I'm worried for him."
Draco nodded. "I am as well."
Soon after their surprisingly heartfelt conversation in the drawing room, Mr. Malfoy and Rose Weasley sat down to a formal dinner with Scorpius. The room remained painfully silent as house-elves clad in snowy white garments delivered endless platters of food- no one had the energy or desire to make small talk, and the air hung thick with things left unsaid. Rose's concern for Scorpius only grew, as she observed him pushing food around his plate rather than consuming it. When at last the tense affair was over, she followed him up the stairs to their rooms, leaving Draco to brood over another goblet of nettle wine. Just as her friend was about to bid her goodnight outside the door of her chamber, however, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside. He uttered no sound of protest, merely following her example limply, as if he had been Imperiused.
"Please talk to me, Scor," she implored softly once she had closed the door behind them.
"What is there to say, Rose? My mum is dead," he replied in that same strangled tone.
"Surely you must be feeling something, right now. It's good to talk about your thoughts and emotions, not keep them all bottled up like I've seen you doing since I got here. Please don't shut me out. I came here to help you through this, not watch you drive yourself mad without eating or sleeping or talking."
He stiffened. "If you don't want to be here Rose, you are more than welcome to leave at any point."
"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, that's not what I meant and you know it," she chastised, before softening her tone. "Of course I'll stay. For as long as you need me. But why did you invite me in the first place if you were only going to shut me out and pretend you aren't in pain?"
He closed his eyes. "What use is it to say what I'm feeling? She's gone either way."
"Because you can only accept her," she hesitated a moment before using the word, "death, by mourning her first. By denying what you're feeling, all you're doing is hurting yourself more."
His eyes opened to look at her, rimmed with tears that began to slowly run down his cheeks. "But how can I let myself feel her death when it's my fault it happened? If I let myself accept she is gone… And even if I could, what does it matter if I do what's best for myself when she can't come back?"
Rose stared at her friend. "Why the bloody hell do you think losing your mum is your fault?"
Scorpius looked away from her. "She died because she- they- wanted another child. I let them down. I wasn't what they thought, what they expected me to be. Maybe if I were a Slytherin, some Potions prodigy like you, they would have been happy with just me- they wouldn't have need another kid to be what I'm not. And she never would have found that hairbrush." He lowered his voice. "I know it isn't really true- it's mad and illogical- but I can't stop thinking that if I were a Slytherin, she'd still be here."
For a few moments, Rose wasn't sure what to say. She had gotten to this point in their conversation with her Ravenclaw reasoning and Gryffindor-like brashness alone, but as those characteristics now only made her inclined to shout at him that Astoria's death wasn't his doing, it seemed this would require more emotional finesse. Looking back on her conversation with Mr. Malfoy, and how she seemed to have said what he needed to hear by relating his circumstance to her own, she resolved on a course of action.
Rose placed her hands on her friend's shoulders. "Scorpius," she said quietly. "Look at me."
His blue-grey eyes, still looking as if they were frozen over, met her own. "Your mum loved you very much; and your dad loves you too, though he isn't always the best at showing it. They were - and are - proud of you. You know that. They weren't trying to have another child to continue the Malfoy legacy in Slytherin." She paused. "Didn't you tell me your parents wanted a girl?"
Scorpius nodded.
"Well I hate to break it to you Malfoy, but although you're handsome, I really don't think you're pretty enough to qualify."
He raised his brows, the harsh line of his mouth momentarily twitching upward.
"So even if you were Sorted into Slytherin," she continued, trying to mimic James' drawling tone he employed when saying something that was simultaneously funny and offensive, "I don't quite see how you could have fulfilled their hopes on that one. It would have been entertaining to see you try though, Scorpina, and if you ever feel the urge you're free to raid my wardrobe."
Scorpius was smiling faintly, now. The color of his eyes had returned to its former warmth.
"And Scor?" she added. "If your parents were so concerned with trying to preserve Malfoy ideals, why in the name of Merlin's saggy left butt cheek would your Dad have invited a Weasley to stay at Malfoy Manor?"
At this he openly laughed; though the first chuckle sounded as if it had been forced out of him, once he'd started it appeared he couldn't stop. After a minute or two of hysterical laughter, tears of mirth eventually turned to ones of sorrow. Rose pulled him closer into a hug as sobs began to wrack his slight frame. He tucked his head into her shoulder, staining the front of her dress, but she couldn't care less about her clothes right now. "Rosie, I miss her," he said in a plaintive, almost childlike tone, distorted slightly from tears. "I miss her so much and it hurts."
Rose attended the funeral along with her parents, the Potters, and other important representatives of wizarding society. For once, Lucius Malfoy made no rude or degrading comments to any member of the Weasley family. The ceremony itself was simple and beautiful. Those who had been close to Astoria spoke of her kindness, generosity, and love for her family as she was placed inside the large and ancient Malfoy crypt. As the heavy doors of the family tomb were closed once more, a large asphodel vine with stunning white flowers grew swiftly to cover them. Rose looked across the crowd to see Neville Longbottom, who met her gaze and nodded; it seemed Mrs. Malfoy had made all kinds of unlikely friends during her lifetime.
Though many witches and wizards in attendance at first questioned the presence of the red-haired Rose Weasley in one of the seats reserved for family members, the protests were quickly hushed. This was not a day for feuds, old prejudices, or questions of blood purity. All that mattered to Rose, and to everyone who argued in her favor, was that Scorpius had refused to let her leave his side, and she had – of course – agreed.