Chapter 18

Travel and tell no one,
live a true love story
and tell no one,
live happily
and tell no one,
people ruin
beautiful things.

- Khalil Gibran

Rose had once heard the muggle saying that bad things always come in threes. Given her background in arithmancy, she'd always been skeptical of the veracity of this saying, and the last few months of her life seemed evidence enough to disprove it—not only had far more than three bad things happened, but they didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Rose was reminded of this when she and Stefan were jolted awake early one December morning by the door to their apartment slamming open. Blinking hazily, she fumbled for her wand on the nightstand but hadn't managed to retrieve it before the door to their bedroom had been given a similar treatment.

"Mother?" Stefan questioned, sitting up in bed, the comforter sliding down his bare chest. Margot Dolohov was looking the least put together that Rose had ever seen her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and a dressing gown covered her silk pajamas. She gave the two of them a sharp look before turning and walking into the next room.

"What the hell?" Rose mouthed to Stefan who shrugged at her, both of them climbing out of bed. Stefan took a moment to pull on pajama pants over his boxers while Rose, who was already wearing her usual shorts and t-shirt, went into the next room to find Margot rifling through the drawers and closet.

"Can I help you find something," Rose asked, her voice carefully neutral. Margot shot her an irritated glare.

"Why do you have clothes in here," she snapped, pulling out a handful of tank tops.

"We don't have guests very often, it's extra storage space. I have clothes in there too," Rose gestured over her shoulder at the bedroom. She could feel how icy her insides had gone.

"Mother, what are you doing," Stefan asked, leaning against the doorframe of the guest room. "It's six o'clock in the morning."

Margot glared at her son, reaching into her dressing gown and pulling out a folded-up newspaper. Flipping it open, she handed it to Stefan who scanned the article curiously. His gaze became stony as he read, and when he'd finished, he glanced up at Margot with an exasperated look.

"Rose, why don't you go put on some coffee while I talk to my mother," he suggested, his eyes not leaving his mother's. Rose felt a bit irritated at the dismissal—her curiosity peeked—but nodded and left for the kitchen. He offered her the newspaper on the way out, and she quickly grabbed it from him. She was not particularly surprised to see Fabian in the kitchen but was pleased to see that he'd already taken the initiative to make coffee. Rose grabbed a cup and sat a seat away from him at the kitchen island.

"Good morning," he said with a genial smile. Fabian always had the uncanny ability to appear good-natured even when he was saying horrible things. Today there was a tension around the corners of his mouth that she couldn't help but notice.

"Morning," Rose answered, spreading the newspaper out in front of her. It didn't take long for her to find the article that had been responsible for sending Margot into a rage: The Lost Potter. Rose winced at the title, Rita Skeeter had obviously caught up on last year's gossip at Hogwarts and learned that the Malfoy's adopted daughter was in fact the eldest child of James and Lily.

"My parents already told you both that I'm related to the Potters," Rose said to Fabian. "Why—"

"Keep reading," he suggested, sipping at his own coffee.

Rose turned back to the print and quickly began to skim the article.

'In my time at Hogwarts these past months, this reporter has discovered the heretofore secret connection between Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, and Rose Malfoy—newly Dolohov. It will come as a shock to my readers that the Malfoy's eldest daughter was in fact born Roselin Euphemia Potter—Harry Potter's older sister! The elder Potter, whom many believed to have died along with her parents on the night You-Know-Who fell from power, was instead sent to live in a muggle orphanage by none other than Albus Dumbledore. Our heroine was fortunately rescued from such a tragic fate by none other than Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy—well-known and respected members of wizarding society…

Rose frowned, wondering if Skeeter had been talking to Hagrid, before skimming lower.

Her classmates tell me of a tragically estranged and tense relationship between the two siblings when they met again for the first time at Hogwarts. Whether due to the well-known rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, or due to Harry's brash desire to go-it-alone, we can only speculate…

Rose rolled her eyes and continued reading.

The revelation of Rose's heritage as a Potter casts her recent marriage to Stefan Dolohov in a new more sinister light. It cannot be overlooked that Stefan's uncle, Antonin Dolohov, is infamous for his support of You-Know-Who and was imprisoned for the torture and murder of countless muggles. It is a shocking twist that Harry's elder sister would marry into a family with such close ties to the wizard who killed her parents. One can only speculate how this marriage came about and just how safe the eldest Potter is.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Rose continued reading, still not sure what in the article would lead Margot to break into their apartment so early in the morning.

Did the Dolohov's make Rose an offer she couldn't refuse? This reporter can't help but wonder to what dark lengths they went to. Adding to this story of intrigue, many of her classmates believe that Rose found love while at Hogwarts. They recall numerous nights where she would return to her dormitory in the early morning hours—or sometimes not at all. They also tell me how heartbroken Rose was at the end of term these past two years. Was she, perhaps, thrown into despair at the thought of not seeing her mysterious lover over the summer holidays? And why was she so sad only weeks before her wedding this past June? Who was this mysterious boy who had such a strong hold over our heroine's heart, and what happened to him after graduation?

Rose's lips curled in irritation at Skeeter's drawn-out speculation on her love life. The article continued for several more paragraphs along the same theme and continued questioning the authenticity of her marriage to Stefan. Taking a breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. There was nothing damning in the article—only speculation and hearsay. But it was obviously enough to aggravate her mother-in-law's already paranoid nature. She glanced up when Margot and Stefan walked back into the kitchen. Her face was still pinched and angry, but she no longer seemed as suspicious.

"We're leaving," she told Fabian flatly, who immediately stood to follow his wife.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Stefan's calm face creased in worry.

"We were very lucky," he said, running a hand over his face. Rose could tell he was imagining what would have happened if he and Damien had still been seeing each other and Margot had discovered their arrangement.

"What did you say to her," Rose asked.

"That she was being paranoid, that it was silly to listen to anything that Skeeter woman wrote, that you were out of bed late at night because you were a prefect," he said, moving to the kitchen and sliding a cup of coffee towards himself. He didn't normally drink coffee but looked particularly tired this morning.

"Why does your mother care what I did at Hogwarts," Rose pressed.

"It's not about what you did at Hogwarts, it's whether it stopped at Hogwarts," he said carefully. "She's quite determined that our marriage not be a sham. My mother has waited more than a decade longer than she thought she'd need to for me to produce an heir. Don't let my father fool you either, he might not seem as bothered, but he's just as determined as she is that the Dolohov name continue."

"Stefan…" Rose began cautiously. "What happened… to Christina?"

Stefan immediately flinched.

"Where did you hear that name," he asked, and his voice was harsh and angry. Rose was taken aback; she'd never seen him this way. His eyes were suddenly wide and guarded. He reminded her of a caged animal.

"You say it in your sleep. During your nightmares," Rose answered, deciding not to tell him that she'd also heard about Christina from Damien. Stefan sat down heavily on a stool across from her, dropping his head into his hands. It was several minutes before he looked up at her and when he did there were tears in his eyes.

"I don't—I can't…" he trailed off, looking tortured. "I've never told anyone what happened."

"Maybe it's time," Rose suggested, reaching over and taking one of his hands in her own. He was silent for several minutes before his fingers tightened around hers, and he drew a shaky breath.

"Christina… Christina was my cousin. Antonin's daughter. We were the same age, best friends growing up. And we were engaged. It was the perfect arrangement," he began slowly. "At least it was perfect until…"

"Until you realized you only like men," Rose filled in his sentence for him. Damien nodded slowly.

"I met Damien at Hogwarts and fell in love. Christina knew. We told each other everything. And she… she fell in love too. With a muggle-born boy. Henry Bates. And then in our fifth year she got pregnant. I told her we could say it was mine, but she couldn't imagine doing that to Henry. I stood by her side the day she told our parents she didn't want to marry me. She told them she was pregnant and that she wanted to have the baby. That she loved Henry. We were such fools," he said, covering his eyes in anguish with his free hand.

She tightened her grip on his hand, and he seemed to draw some strength from that.

"I couldn't do anything, Rose. You have to believe me. I tried," he said, his voice cracking. "They tortured her. My mother and uncle. They tortured her and killed her and made me watch. Henry and his family went into hiding, but it wasn't long before they got ahold of them too. I think they were the last murders my uncle committed before the Dark Lord fell."

Rose's skin erupted in goosebumps, and she felt as though the air had lost all its warmth.

"The whole time, Christina never told them about Damien and me," Stefan said, tears dropping from his grey-green eyes onto the counter. "They made it very clear that if I ever went against the family the same thing would happen to me and anyone I love."

Rose was still thinking over this conversation hours later, sitting on the couch, staring out at the cold December sky pensively. Stefan was taking a hot shower. The sound of the water running was the only thing that broke the deathly silence of the apartment. Nothing about the revelation had been an outright shock considering what she knew of Margot and Stefan. It certainly explained many things about her husband that she'd only been able to guess at before. It also better illuminated Margot's paranoia around Rose and Stefan's relationship. The woman had already lost the chance for a grandchild once, she wasn't likely to let it happen again.

Though the story had been appropriately tragic, Rose's thoughts kept being drawn back to what Stefan had said just before heading into their room for his shower: 'The sooner we start having children, the sooner she'll leave us alone.' He had said it as neutrally as possible, obviously not trying to pressure her but only wanting to state a fact. Yet it had left Rose feeling cold and panicked. The idea of having a baby now, with the possibility of an encounter with the Dark Lord, terrified her. If he could manipulate her with her current relationships, how much more pliable would she be if he had an infant to threaten. And, if she was honest, the fact that she had just begun to reconnect with Remus didn't help either.

Surely a child would put him out of her reach forever and the idea made her heart feel like it was breaking all over again. But would delaying put both her and Stefan in danger? Margot wouldn't be able to torture and kill her the way they had Christina—not with Lucius and Narcissa to answer to. But if she unearthed evidence of Rose's relationship with Remus would he be in danger? And would it be enough to make Lucius and Narcissa desert her?

Rose drew her knees into her chest, letting her forehead fall against them.

'What a fucking mess,' she thought bitterly.

She was lifted out of her dark mood by the tapping of an unfamiliar owl on the living room window. Standing up, Rose walked over and opened it, carefully detaching the letter from the owl's leg. Unrolling the slip of parchment, she read the three words that had been written there, her heart leaping into her throat.

'Dinner? It's snowing.'