Monica was feeling the ground shaking. It was an earthquake. Only that
earthquake existed inside her head.
No ground underneath her feet; nothing is safe anymore, she could not trust anything or anyone. The firm frame her life had been built around had now proved to be a false one; she had nothing to lean onto, nothing to hold her, nothing to make her feel safe.
She felt exposed to everything that could come her way...
"Monica?"
She raised her eyes to see Katelyn's big eyes examining her worriedly.
"Are you okay, Mon?"
Monica did not answer. She didn't know how much she cared about Katelyn's answer, but she asked anyway: "How did you know?" Her voice was most unlike her own.
Katelyn sighed, still examining her worriedly. "Everybody knew, Mon," she murmured. "It's not just me. There have been rumors for a very long time."
"Years?"
If everybody knew - the whole school - she was the only one who didn't -
"How come you've never told me anything?"
"I didn't think it was my job to tell you," said Katelyn.
"Then whose job was it, in your opinion? - The Messiah's?"
"No, but - " Katelyn stopped talking for a moment. "Are you telling me you didn't know anything? Anything at all? For all these years?"
"You thought I knew? Why would I react like this to something I already know?"
Katelyn said nothing.
"Now, can you tell me?" asked Monica.
Katelyn was taken aback. "Tell you what?"
"Tell me the truth," Monica demanded. "The truth about what Brendon said. I want to know exactly what he was talking about. It's impossible to let the entire school know the truth about me and leave me out of this."
"All right, I'll tell you," said Katelyn. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if preferring to look anywhere, just not into Monica's eyes, and began:
"I don't know a lot, actually. I know very few details, and this story is going to be very short. But I'll tell you all I know, and maybe it would help you."
She sighed again: "Your father was a Slytherin, you probably know that, and you also know that he used to be a very typical Slytherin. He's told you that himself. He and your mom were enemies until their seventh year."
Monica stared, waiting for more.
"Your father hated Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and your mother," Katelyn went on. "He called them names, like Potty, Weasel, Mudblood. They hated him, too. It went on like this until Voldemort was killed. Harry killed Voldemort at the end of their sixth year, and Lucius Malfoy - your grandfather, actually, your father's father - was killed as well.
"Your father spent the summer with him mother - your grandmother, Narcissa - and she changed him. Narcissa had hated Lucius terribly, and when he died, she was thrilled. She affected your father, and he changed. He came back for his seventh year completely different. He became much nicer to your mother and her friends. Then your parents fell in love.
"They got together about a month before the prom. On the prom night, there was dancing a lot, and there were drinks. Your parents got drunk. Your father lured your mother to your room, and... and..."
Katelyn swallowed hard. Monica knew what she meant.
"They had sex," she said flatly, "and my mother got pregnant."
"Yes," said Katelyn, a little relieved that she didn't have to say it herself. "She only found out three months later, and decided not to abort. Then... then she talked to your father... she told him about the baby... and he left her."
"WHAT?"
Monica jumped from her seat; Katelyn flinched and looked at her fearfully.
"You're lying," said Monica flatly.
"I'm not lying, Monica," said Katelyn desperately, "I'm only telling you what I've heard."
"Oh, are you?" said Monica angrily, "well, you ought to know that what you heard was lies! My father would NEVER dump my mother for getting pregnant. Ever. You have no idea how much he loves her. I grew up with them, I know. My father had changed, you said so yourself. He is the most wonderful person in the world, and he would never leave his pregnant girlfriend alone!"
She threw herself back on the bed and burst out crying.
"Monica - " Katelyn hurried over to the bedside and tried to put a comforting arm on her shoulder, but Monica pushed her off, perhaps a little brutally, because Katelyn almost fell down.
"It's impossible, I'm telling you," Monica insisted as she sat up and forced herself to calm down. "My father would never do such a thing, ever. And anyway, they are together now - aren't they? How do you explain this?"
"When you were six months old, your father was unable to stand it anymore," said Katelyn quietly. "He went back to your mother and asked her to forgive him, and she did."
Monica had been shaking her head frantically, so it already hurt.
"I don't believe it," she said hoarsely.
"Maybe it's not true after all," said Katelyn, trying to comfort her. "You know how rumors spread. Maybe it's that Flint boy who spread it. Maybe he just made it up because he was mad at you. You shouldn't get too excited before you check it."
Monica raised her eyes. "No," she said, "it's got to be the truth. Flint is not intelligent enough to make up such a complicated story on his own."
"Perhaps his friends helped him."
"He doesn't have any friends!"
"Monica, you've just said you don't believe that story. You've said that it's impossible, and maybe you were right. Ask your parents about it."
"Yeah," Monica answered, "right. I can see it now. Hi Mom, hi Dad, merry Christmas! Oh, by the way, I've heard the funniest thing a few days ago. Rumors have it that you two got drunk on your prom night and had sex, and when you found out Mom was pregnant, you dumped her and only came back when I was six months old. Is it true?"
"Do you have to be so sarcastic? It's not funny, Mon."
"You want me to cry instead?"
But Katelyn didn't give up. "Look," she said, "all I'm saying is that you shouldn't overreact before you're one hundred per cent sure that the rumor is true. What's the worst thing that could happen if you asked your parents?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Monica!"
As she got off the train, her two little sisters jumped on her. Sapphire was ten years old and Samantha had turned six last summer. They were both blue-eyed, exactly the eyes Monica had always wanted.
"Hi, guys," said Monica and hugged the two of them. They clung onto her and would hardly let go; Monica's neck was very sore by the time she managed to get them off. Then she turned to look at her parents. Their gazes met.
At that moment, Draco and Hermione knew immediately that something was wrong. Something was very wrong with the way Monica was looking at the two of them. It changed immediately, of course; Monica smiled and went over to hug them; but Draco and Hermione managed to exchange worried glances.
"Are you all right, darling?" asked Hermione.
"Sure I am," Monica replied unconvincingly.
"You've become such a beautiful young woman," Draco flattered his daughter, "you're lucky I'm your father, otherwise you'd be rejecting me right now."
Again, Monica's smile seemed wrong, but she pulled herself together and answered: "Why would I be rejecting you?"
"Aren't I too old for you?"
"I don't know. How old are you, Dad?"
Yes. Something was definitely wrong. Draco exchanged another fearful glance with Hermione. Monica was not supposed to know how old they were, or she could figure out they had her at a very, very young age...
"Don't you know how old I am, sweetie?" said Draco, trying to sound cheerful.
"No. How should I know? You've never told me."
Draco swallowed hard. "I'm... thirty-six," he replied hesitantly.
Monica's eyes rested on him, but she said nothing.
Draco and Hermione's eyes met again. It was almost scary...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Happy holidays, everyone and happy new year!
No ground underneath her feet; nothing is safe anymore, she could not trust anything or anyone. The firm frame her life had been built around had now proved to be a false one; she had nothing to lean onto, nothing to hold her, nothing to make her feel safe.
She felt exposed to everything that could come her way...
"Monica?"
She raised her eyes to see Katelyn's big eyes examining her worriedly.
"Are you okay, Mon?"
Monica did not answer. She didn't know how much she cared about Katelyn's answer, but she asked anyway: "How did you know?" Her voice was most unlike her own.
Katelyn sighed, still examining her worriedly. "Everybody knew, Mon," she murmured. "It's not just me. There have been rumors for a very long time."
"Years?"
If everybody knew - the whole school - she was the only one who didn't -
"How come you've never told me anything?"
"I didn't think it was my job to tell you," said Katelyn.
"Then whose job was it, in your opinion? - The Messiah's?"
"No, but - " Katelyn stopped talking for a moment. "Are you telling me you didn't know anything? Anything at all? For all these years?"
"You thought I knew? Why would I react like this to something I already know?"
Katelyn said nothing.
"Now, can you tell me?" asked Monica.
Katelyn was taken aback. "Tell you what?"
"Tell me the truth," Monica demanded. "The truth about what Brendon said. I want to know exactly what he was talking about. It's impossible to let the entire school know the truth about me and leave me out of this."
"All right, I'll tell you," said Katelyn. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if preferring to look anywhere, just not into Monica's eyes, and began:
"I don't know a lot, actually. I know very few details, and this story is going to be very short. But I'll tell you all I know, and maybe it would help you."
She sighed again: "Your father was a Slytherin, you probably know that, and you also know that he used to be a very typical Slytherin. He's told you that himself. He and your mom were enemies until their seventh year."
Monica stared, waiting for more.
"Your father hated Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and your mother," Katelyn went on. "He called them names, like Potty, Weasel, Mudblood. They hated him, too. It went on like this until Voldemort was killed. Harry killed Voldemort at the end of their sixth year, and Lucius Malfoy - your grandfather, actually, your father's father - was killed as well.
"Your father spent the summer with him mother - your grandmother, Narcissa - and she changed him. Narcissa had hated Lucius terribly, and when he died, she was thrilled. She affected your father, and he changed. He came back for his seventh year completely different. He became much nicer to your mother and her friends. Then your parents fell in love.
"They got together about a month before the prom. On the prom night, there was dancing a lot, and there were drinks. Your parents got drunk. Your father lured your mother to your room, and... and..."
Katelyn swallowed hard. Monica knew what she meant.
"They had sex," she said flatly, "and my mother got pregnant."
"Yes," said Katelyn, a little relieved that she didn't have to say it herself. "She only found out three months later, and decided not to abort. Then... then she talked to your father... she told him about the baby... and he left her."
"WHAT?"
Monica jumped from her seat; Katelyn flinched and looked at her fearfully.
"You're lying," said Monica flatly.
"I'm not lying, Monica," said Katelyn desperately, "I'm only telling you what I've heard."
"Oh, are you?" said Monica angrily, "well, you ought to know that what you heard was lies! My father would NEVER dump my mother for getting pregnant. Ever. You have no idea how much he loves her. I grew up with them, I know. My father had changed, you said so yourself. He is the most wonderful person in the world, and he would never leave his pregnant girlfriend alone!"
She threw herself back on the bed and burst out crying.
"Monica - " Katelyn hurried over to the bedside and tried to put a comforting arm on her shoulder, but Monica pushed her off, perhaps a little brutally, because Katelyn almost fell down.
"It's impossible, I'm telling you," Monica insisted as she sat up and forced herself to calm down. "My father would never do such a thing, ever. And anyway, they are together now - aren't they? How do you explain this?"
"When you were six months old, your father was unable to stand it anymore," said Katelyn quietly. "He went back to your mother and asked her to forgive him, and she did."
Monica had been shaking her head frantically, so it already hurt.
"I don't believe it," she said hoarsely.
"Maybe it's not true after all," said Katelyn, trying to comfort her. "You know how rumors spread. Maybe it's that Flint boy who spread it. Maybe he just made it up because he was mad at you. You shouldn't get too excited before you check it."
Monica raised her eyes. "No," she said, "it's got to be the truth. Flint is not intelligent enough to make up such a complicated story on his own."
"Perhaps his friends helped him."
"He doesn't have any friends!"
"Monica, you've just said you don't believe that story. You've said that it's impossible, and maybe you were right. Ask your parents about it."
"Yeah," Monica answered, "right. I can see it now. Hi Mom, hi Dad, merry Christmas! Oh, by the way, I've heard the funniest thing a few days ago. Rumors have it that you two got drunk on your prom night and had sex, and when you found out Mom was pregnant, you dumped her and only came back when I was six months old. Is it true?"
"Do you have to be so sarcastic? It's not funny, Mon."
"You want me to cry instead?"
But Katelyn didn't give up. "Look," she said, "all I'm saying is that you shouldn't overreact before you're one hundred per cent sure that the rumor is true. What's the worst thing that could happen if you asked your parents?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Monica!"
As she got off the train, her two little sisters jumped on her. Sapphire was ten years old and Samantha had turned six last summer. They were both blue-eyed, exactly the eyes Monica had always wanted.
"Hi, guys," said Monica and hugged the two of them. They clung onto her and would hardly let go; Monica's neck was very sore by the time she managed to get them off. Then she turned to look at her parents. Their gazes met.
At that moment, Draco and Hermione knew immediately that something was wrong. Something was very wrong with the way Monica was looking at the two of them. It changed immediately, of course; Monica smiled and went over to hug them; but Draco and Hermione managed to exchange worried glances.
"Are you all right, darling?" asked Hermione.
"Sure I am," Monica replied unconvincingly.
"You've become such a beautiful young woman," Draco flattered his daughter, "you're lucky I'm your father, otherwise you'd be rejecting me right now."
Again, Monica's smile seemed wrong, but she pulled herself together and answered: "Why would I be rejecting you?"
"Aren't I too old for you?"
"I don't know. How old are you, Dad?"
Yes. Something was definitely wrong. Draco exchanged another fearful glance with Hermione. Monica was not supposed to know how old they were, or she could figure out they had her at a very, very young age...
"Don't you know how old I am, sweetie?" said Draco, trying to sound cheerful.
"No. How should I know? You've never told me."
Draco swallowed hard. "I'm... thirty-six," he replied hesitantly.
Monica's eyes rested on him, but she said nothing.
Draco and Hermione's eyes met again. It was almost scary...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Happy holidays, everyone and happy new year!