Chapter 18: Until the End of the World
"Haven't seen you in quite a while, I was down the hold, just passing time. Last time we met it was a low-lit room We were as close together as a bride and groom.
We ate the food, we drank the wine Everybody having a good time except you.
You were talking about the end of the world. I took the money, I spiked your drink
You miss too much these days if you stop to think. You led me on with those innocent eyes
And you know I love the element of surprise. In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart. You, you were acting like it was the end of the world. In my dream, I was drowning my sorrows But my sorrows they'd learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me, Spilling over the brim. Waves of regret and waves of joy. I reached out for the one I tried to destroy. You, you said you'd wait till the end of the world." (Until the End of the World, U2)
"One week!" Dylan exclaimed excitedly, running through the house in naught but his trousers. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Aren't you supposed to be nervous as fuck?" I asked.
"Nah, I'm leaving that to Al," he said, "You packed yet?" Fuck him and his destination wedding.
"Yeah," I said. I don't want to go to America. I don't, I don't, I don't. But no… That was the only way Dylan's parents would agree to come. So we have to transport all five hundred of us to the States in order for him to get married in some weird lodge in the mountains in the middle of nowhere. Hell. In December too, so were gonna be snowed in and then it's going to turn into a horror show and someone new will die each week and it will be exactly like that show Harper's Island, except I'd end up being the blonde guy who died last. Fuck.
"You watch too much T.V. mate," he called over his shoulder as he returned to his room. Bastard. I stuck my tongue out at his back. Wow mature. I'm twenty four years old and sticking my tongue out at people. Oh, god. I really will be the blonde guy. He was the best man. I'm the best man. Or, one of them at least.
"Let's go!" Al called, running into the living room and flipping the quill that was to be our portkey. I grabbed my bag and touched a finger to it in bad humor. Dylan and Al mirrored me and all of a sudden, we spun off, landing with a thud in the middle of a snowy field surrounded on all sides by huge log cabins. Immediately, the two of them ran off through the snow towards one of them. I trudged along behind in bad grace. I've come to loathe weddings.
We walked up the steps and into the cabin.
"This is where the wedding party is staying," Al said.
"Goody," I replied sourly, sitting down next to the pool table.
"You're getting the leather all wet," said Amy from behind us. I jumped out of the chair.
"Amy!" the three of us exclaimed in unison.
"Hey, you lot," she said, hugging us all at the same time. "Guess who I've brought with me." Dylan's Mum and Dad and little sister were standing awkwardly behind her. Emma, the sister, looked sort of put out at being near her parents, and I remembered with a jolt that she'd be nineteen now. Oh that's weird.
"Hey, big bro," she said, her British accent barely noticeable.
"Emma," he said, and the two hugged.
"Why are they both avoiding their parents?" I asked Amy in a whisper.
"You know how they left England to try and keep Emma from becoming a witch?" she said. "Didn't work and then she wanted to come back and go to Hogwarts but they wouldn't let her. So she's sort of pissed at them. Permanently," she added.
"Mom, Dad, it's going to suck being the only muggles isn't it?" Emma asked bitterly. They didn't answer, and instead seemed to be staring out the front window. We turned to look. I huge brigade of Weasleys and all manner of married-into-the-family-members were storming over the snowy lawn from where they'd just appeared via portkey. I counted my dad's blonde (going grey) hair among their number.
"You invited my parents?" I asked in confusion as they swarmed the porch. I can use swarm accurately here, because that is truly the only proper verb.
"Yep," Dylan said as the door swung open and the herd of people ran in, bringing with them noise and cold air. This wasn't the entire guest list. I ducked out of the way as Al and Dylan were enveloped in hugs by every imaginable Weasley member and tried to take stock.
Grandmum and Granddad Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Andromeda, Percy, Audrey, George, Angelina, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hannah, Mum, Dad, Luna, Rolf, Teddy, Victoire, Dominique, Louis, Molly, Lucy, Fred and Katie, Roxy, Hugo, James, Lyra, Frank, Lily, Will, Alice, Lorcan and Lysander, and Gabby and Violette. But no Rose. Add Al, Dylan, Emma, Amy, Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy and you got up to 46 people. And all the randoms like our coworkers and thus had not yet shown up.
"Unca Scorry!" shrieked a small voice from somewhere near my knees. I looked down to discover Violette hugging me. I picked the four year old girl up and hugged her. "Mummy and daddy are looking for you!" she yelled. She squirmed to be set down and then dragged me through the crowd to James and Lyra who excitedly hugged me. I looked down and my eyes widened.
"Yep," James said, grinning at my befuddled look. "I'm just that good," he said. Some people never grow up, do they? Lyra hit him in the arm.
"Don't be too smug, because when I'm in labor I'm going to kill you," she said. He adopted the expression of a unicorn in wandlight. She rolled her eyes.
"Congratulations," I said.
"Ima be a big sisser!" Violette insisted. I smiled at her.
"And you're going to be the best big sister anybody ever had," I said. She grinned at me and ran off to find her other family members.
"Is she here yet?" Lyra asked me quietly.
"No," I said. She patted me on the shoulder.
"Nervous yet?" she asked.
"You know those muggle museums where they've got the huge atriums full of butterflies?" I asked.
"That's currently what your stomach feels like?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
By dinner, Rose hadn't shown up yet. The lot of us sat down and enjoyed our meal before Dylan kicked everybody who wasn't in the wedding party off to the other cabins. That left me, Lyra, James, Lily, Frank, Will, Alice and a room for Rose once she got here. They were determined to have an even number of men and women in their wedding for whatever reason. The grooms were the first to turn in, leaving the groomsmen and women sitting around the kitchen table chatting. Well, they were chatting. I was scribbling notes on a note pad.
"Do you ever stop working?" Lily asked me curiously.
"Try not to," I said.
"Why?" Alice asked.
"Stop working, start thinking. It's a bad tradeoff," I said. "Because when I think I get too depressed. You miss too much these days if you stop to think," I said.
"Whatever you say, boss," she said. "Well, I'm going to bed before Rose gets here. It's so late and I'm so hormonal, I'll probably say something I'll regret tomorrow if I wait around for her."
"Wait…" Alice said slowly. "Are you pregnant?" Lily stretched as she stood up.
"Yep," she told her sister in law. The rest of our jaws dropped.
"Are we really all pregnant?" Alice asked.
"Wait, you're pregnant?" Frank asked, glaring daggers at Will. Will grinned sheepishly.
"Meant to tell you," he said.
"I don't believe you knocked up my baby sister!" Frank said.
"Oh, give it a rest," Alice said. "Well, Lily, I'll go with you. I'm tired too."
"Just watch… next thing you know Rose is going to be pregnant," Will muttered under his breath. I gagged and had to swallow the bile that had risen quite sharply at the notion.
"I'm not," whispered a small voice. I spun around so fast I almost knocked over the table. Will, James and Frank managed to steady it. The first thing I noticed, since this seems to always be the first thing I notice about Rose, was that her hair was short. It only came to her chin in the choppy curls I'd come to expect. The second thing, which I probably should have noticed first, was that she was wearing sunglasses. She was holding herself oddly, as if her right leg was damaged. When she took a step, it was with a limp. I felt my heart break all over again.
"No one's going to say anything?" she asked with a shadowed attempt at a smile.
"You cut your hair," I whispered. It was the single most idiotic thing I think I've ever said, except that it seems to be our customary greeting these days.
"Yeah," she whispered back. What the fuck happened to her? She seems… miserable. This is not the Rose I know and love. It took me all of .5 seconds to realise I was going to do what Ron had asked and 'fix it'.
"Well, I've, uh, my wife…" Frank muttered. "Good to see you, Rosie." He scampered up the stairs.
"Yeah, actually. Me too," Will said. "Glad you're here," he added, clapping her on the shoulder. She winced.
"Where's Vla"- but the question died on James's lips as Vladimir himself walked into the dining room. Instantly everything about Rose changed. If she'd been miserable before, she was terrified now. Her lips were white, for one.
"Where is our room?" Vladimir asked without announcing himself or even saying hi. He was giving me a death glare that made me profoundly grateful he wasn't a Basilisk. I seemed unable to speak.
"Top of the stairs, open door," James said in a muted voice, his expression mirroring mine. That is, wide eyed and in shock.
"Thank you. We are tired from travel, and time difference," Vladimir said, pulling Rose to his side. She seemed to automatically shrink against him, trying to be as small as possible. What is this… Rose isn't timid. James had noticed as well, and once they had disappeared, I found myself falling back into my chair.
"That isn't Rose Weasley," I said in a tiny voice. "It's like… all her personality's gone."
"You're right that isn't Rose Weasley," Lyra muttered, her face livid. James and I stared at her. "That's Vladimir Krum's fiancé," she said quietly. "That's the type of woman who signs her letters 'Mrs. Vladimir Krum' not 'Rose'," Lyra all but snarled.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," James said. "I mean… that's how Mum and Dad wrote Lily's wedding invitations…"
"There's a difference," Lyra said. "Namely that your mother loves your father and also that she didn't trade being herself to be with him."
"What are you talking about?" James asked. "Yeah, she looked a little worse for the wear, but none of us have seen her in four years. Any number of bad things could have happened to her. It's not automatically Vladimir's fault."
"Yes it is," I muttered. "She's dead terrified of him, she's limping, she flinched when he touched her, and winced when Will patted her on the shoulder. And there's only one reason anyone ever wears sunglasses at night when they aren't doing it for effect."
"And what would that be?" James asked.
"To hide a black eye," Lyra muttered. James seemed to catch up as she said it.
"I'm gonna go kill him," he growled, making to stand up.
"Please let me," I said.
"Both of you are idiots," Lyra said, hiding her head in her hands. "If you try to help her without her admitting she needs it, she'll implode and hate you. It's going to be something similar to the last remnants of her Weasley stubbornness that's your worst enemy," she said.
"She already hates me!" I exclaimed before they shushed me. "I don't care if she continues to do so just so long as he never, ever gets to touch her again."
"We all know you don't mean that," Lyra said. "We'll deal with this in the morning. Really, truly deal with it," she promised. "But we should try to get on this time zone. Goodnight," she said, gripping my shoulder tightly for a moment before walking up the stairs.
"Sleep, mate," James said, patting me on the shoulder. Sleep. Like that's likely. I'm way too pissed off to sleep. Pissed off is the wrong word. Furious comes closer. I stood up and grabbed the first bottle of liquor I found. And here I've been dry for two years. Haven't had even the slightest thought of drowning my sorrows. I mean, I drink at weddings, but I don't drink-drink like I used to. I yanked the stopper on the bottle out with my teeth and slammed the door behind me. I found the hot tub near the corner of the deck and pulled the cover off, before removing all my clothes except my boxers and climbing in. Yep. I'm going to sit in a hot tub in the middle of the night in a foreign country and drink myself away into a blathering idiot. Hey… maybe I'll drown.
How is it that I'm the only boyfriend she's ever had who's actually treated her decently? And I'm the only one she's ever really fucked over. Yeah, she dumped Ioan, but he wasn't in love with her. I'm the only one with true cause to hate her with every fibre of my being and yet… Yet it seems like I'm the only one who doesn't. I set the bottle down on the edge of the hot tub and sank below the surface. It's so warm it feels like my head's on fire. Hah… direct contrast with the freezing cold mountain air outside. Oh, god my head hurts…
Hands gripped my arms and pulled me sharply off the bottom of the tub. My head broke the surface and I coughed wildly, the cold air ripping down my throat.
"What are you doing?" a woman's voice exploded near my head. I just coughed up more water in response. She hit me on the back of the head. I took a shuddery breath. "And here I told you to stay off the mainland because I thought there was no way you would drown yourself if there wasn't a cliff…" she muttered.
"Rose?" I hacked, rubbing the water out of my eyes.
"Yes," she replied.
"Oh, god," I muttered, laying my head back, only to discover her legs there instead of the hot tub edge, but I found I didn't really feel like moving.
"Were you trying to drown yourself, or was it an accident?" she demanded.
"Little bit of both," I answered honestly.
"That's just bloody perfect," she said.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. There was silence, like she knew I was referring to more than my encounter with Death.
"Me too," she said. I looked up at her, to realise she wasn't wearing her sunglasses anymore. Sure enough, her left eye was purple.
"Did he do that to you?" I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. She looked away and stopped playing with my hair.
"Your letters…" she said, her voice barely audible. "I lied to Dylan," she said, her voice stronger.
"About what, Rose?" I asked.
"About writing back," she said. "I replied to every single letter you sent me. They were all that kept me going… but he found them," she muttered. "That's when it started."
"I- I- it's all my fault, isn't it?" I asked. "If I hadn't kicked you out four years ago, and if I hadn't written you letters and if I hadn't"-
"Hadn't what?" she asked. "Hadn't loved me?" I fell silent.
"Always, Rose. I've never stopped, I don't think I can," I said. She drew a shaky breath. "Come away with me," I said.
"I-I can't," she said. "He'd kill you."
"I don't care," I said, sitting on my knees in order to look her in the eye.
"He will, and then what?" she said. "That's how it started," she said. "He'd threaten to kill you. Then he hit me," she said. "At first he seemed to regret it, but he said if I told anyone he'd kill me, and he'd kill you. And then it happened again," she said. She drew a shaky breath and I pulled her to my chest. "I never cried," she said, tears falling on my chest. "I never." I held her closer, refusing to let her go.
"You can't go back to him tonight," I said.
"I have to, Scor," she said. "He'll kill you. He really will. He's insane," she said.
"I'm not letting you go back there," I said stubbornly, not moving my arms.
"Yes you are," she said.
"No I'm not. He's never laying another finger on you," I said.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Tomorrow, I'll steal his wand and then you can beat the shit out of him," she said.
"Let me at him now, with his wand and everything," I snarled.
"No," she said. "He'd win in a duel."
"Like hell," I said.
"He's willing to do things you aren't," she said. "Which is why I love you," she whispered. Shaking with fury, I kissed the top of her head.
"Please don't go back there," I whispered.
"For tonight, tonight, sleep," she said. "Tomorrow this all ends." She stood up and walked back into the cabin, limp and all. Seething with rage I got out of the hot tub, barely noticing the cold and grabbed my clothes before storming into my room. Before I fell into bed, I looked in my bag and saw the beater's bat I'd surreptitiously stored there. I'd nicked it from Hogwarts at the end of seventh year. I picked it up. The familiar weight felt powerful in my hand. Fine. If she wanted me to wait until tomorrow, tomorrow it would be.