Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Thank you again for those who have reviewed! It feels amazing to wake up every morning and find Review alerts in your inbox!

Thalia's POV

I woke up, smiling, to find myself in my grandparents' guest bedroom, the first place I ever called home.

Then I broke down.

Every memory from Friday washed over me again, engulfing me in a wave of heartbreak. I remembered how Scorpius and I kissed under the mistletoe, how much I had wished it was Albus instead. I remembered Rose and Al's faces, how hurt, shocked, and heartbroken they were. I remembered how I followed Rose out of the Great Hall. I remembered what she said to me...

"Rose! Wait up!"

She kept running, running up the stairs, not even looking back. I tripped on a stair. Cursing to myself, I ripped off my heels and pursued her once again. She ran into the Common Room.

"Rose!"

She turned around, tears slipping down her face, a hurt look in her cerulean eyes. "Why? Why should I? You played an act, a charade! For two years! And I even convinced him that you had feelings for him, too! You hurt him, broke his heart, and most of all, you hurt me, your best friend. I can't believe you."

"Rose, it wasn't like that! We HAD to kiss; it was the mistle – "But she wouldn't hear it.

"Stop telling lies! I've had enough of it. I should've seen this coming, you always flirt with guys, and then when they ask you out, you turn them down. And ones you thought were worthy of the game, you said yes, only to shatter their hearts later on. But, when you developed a so-called crush on Albus, it was only to make Scorpius jealous! But when you heard that I liked him, too, you didn't have the guts to tell me the truth." Her expression turned to stone. "You've been playing us all, Wilcox, but now it's over. I hope you enjoy your standing ovation."

Her words had rooted me on the spot. Even if they weren't true, they hit me deep. If it wasn't the truth, then why did it hurt?

As I watched her go up to the dormitories, I couldn't move. I started to see myself in a new light. Everything turned grey, and all I could see was Thalia Wilcox, the heartbreaker, the player, the one who let her friends down.

I sobbed quietly, hiccupping, and got up from my bed slowly. I stood in front of my mirror, in my tank top and sweat pants. I examined myself, observing my puffy eyes, the tear tracks on my cheeks.

I had cried, but never out of sadness. I cried tears of happiness occasionally, and even then, my eyes never turned puffy, and tear tracks were never left. I had broken my left arm (twice), a rib, sprained my ankle, received various cuts and bruises, even got a slight concussion from Quidditch, but I never cried once, not even when the Skele-Grow was kicking in, and very painfully. But nothing hurt like a broken heart.

"Not even the coldest man on earth can go through his life without crying once. You can never hold in your emotions. You can for a while, but at some point in your life, they will break loose and come pouring like the rain."

That was what Gran always said; it was one of her favourite sayings. I guess it did apply to me, because all of those times Slytherin girls made fun of me because my mother was a Squib, it was like a tiny dagger to my heart each time. Each time someone hurt me physically and emotionally, it was like a needle to my heart. And when those daggers and needles built up over time, I was closer to breaking down. And when the final blow landed, everything indeed did come pouring out.

All I could say was it hurt. A lot.

Walking to the washroom, I splashed water on my face, trying to get rid of the puffiness. It worked slightly, and I headed downstairs, hoping Gran and Grampa wouldn't notice. Instead, I found a pile of breakfast and a note next to it.

My dear Lia,

Your grandfather and I are on our way to visit your great uncle in Scotland, who is currently suffering from a terrible case of dragon pox, in case you've forgotten. As I said, I'm going to try to cure him with a special potion I used to concoct for my dear classmates who suffered from the very same disease. We will be home in time for Christmas, don't worry. If your mother gets home before we do, please tell her our current situation.

With Love,

Gran

I remembered what they had told me last night; that they were going away to Scotland. I felt slightly disappointed; I wanted to tell Gran what happened at the Yule Ball, in hopes of advice and comfort, since I had had enough of hiding it from her the three days I've been at home. It looks like that's not going to happen.

As I ate my breakfast, toast with jam and pumpkin juice, I got an idea. I would call my mother, who was currently in Bulgaria, reporting the aftermath of a hurricane. Hopefully she would have enough time to hear me out and give me some quick words of wisdom. When I was done my breakfast, I placed it in the dishwasher and pressed the start button. Picking up the telephone, I dialled her cell phone number (since she had, like a phone for each country she went to) and I waited, excited, in the sitting room, looking out the window as a flock of birds took flight.

I heard her pick up and say, "Hello?"

"Hey, mum! It's Thalia."

"Oh, Thalia." She sounded surprised. "Well, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?" I asked, glad that I had at least a few minutes to talk to her.

"Fine, as always. Listen, I can't make it to England for Christmas, I have to cover another disaster area in Bulgaria, and it's going to take some time."

I felt disappointed. She barely had any time to visit, and that was only once a year; on Christmas. Now she couldn't go? "Don't you have someone else to do it for you?"

"Well, yes, but she wanted me to cover it this time. So, how could I refuse?"

I felt shocked. Disappointed. Disgusted. Frustrated...heartbroken. "Oh. Okay, that's fine. I'll just tell Gran and Grampa. But can I at least ask you for advice?"

My mother sighed on the other end of the line. "I can't, sorry, Thalia. I'm busy right now, and I should be getting back to work. Can you e-mail or fax it to me?"

I suddenly felt angry. "No, I can't, because I'll probably have to wait another week until I get a reply. Why can't you just say that this is important to you? Family is more important than work, isn't it?"

"Thalia Isabelle Wilcox, you will NOT talk to me that way!" My mother was raising her voice, too, making me even angrier.

"Why can't you just put family before your work? Why can't you consider spending time with your only three members of family? You hardly spend any time here; it's always work, work, and work! Don't you know how much I miss you? Don't you know how much we miss you?"

There was a long pause. A sharp intake of breath. "I don't have time for this. Go calm down and talk to me when you don't have an attitude."

The words spilled out before I could stop them. "You're just jealous that we're all wizards and you're not!"

The other end went silent. I could hear her ragged breathing, as if she was losing control. "Goodbye, Thalia."

I bit my lip, trying to hold it together. "Goodbye, mum."

Slamming the phone back onto the receiver, tears began to fall again.

. . .

Once I had calmed down from my sobbing session, I changed into dark washed jeans, a blue shirt, and a sweater. Deciding that I would take advantage of my grandparents' absence, I walked through the house, exploring it. When I had been a child, I never gave exploring indoors a thought; I was too busy playing outside, as I'm an outdoorsy person.

Not really finding anything satisfactory, I flopped into my grandparents' bed and gazed up at the ceiling. I then spotted a door on the ceiling, one I'd never seen before.

Getting up, I stood up on the bed and pulled the knob down, a ladder cascading onto the floor. Curious, I started climbing up it.

The attic was dark, so I clicked my little flashlight keychain on. I found the light switch and turned it on. There were piles of boxes spread across the tiny room. I coughed, dust getting up my nose.

I went over to a box and read the label. It said, Terry and Alicia's Wedding. I smiled when I saw a portrait with Gran in a simple but beautiful white dress, her chestnut hair in an up do, her face young and alight. Grampa looked dashing in his black suit, his dark hair closely cropped. They both beamed and waved up at me in the Charmed photograph. Placing it back into the box, I couldn't help but imagine me and Albus in that position, arm in arm, a newly wedded couple. I shook that thought off. He hated me, he would never consider even kissing me.

I sighed, bringing the next box toward me. My heart raced when I saw what it said. Sally, it said, in Gran's loopy handwriting. I quickly opened it, but was slightly disappointed when it was mostly certificates, diplomas, and medals from high school and university. I dug through the box, in hopes of finding a wedding picture, my hopes about finding out the rest of my parentage getting high again. No such luck.

I finally found a wedding album, but most of the pictures were torn out; now there were only pictures of her friends and her family. I flipped through the album again and again.

I sat down, disappointed. Kicking the box away from me, it tipped over and I spotted a photograph wedged at the bottom of the box. I stood up and picked it out. I examined it; it was a picture of a man, he had sharp features, shaggy pale gold hair, and grey eyes. It was a Muggle picture, so he just stayed still, smiling charmingly and glassy-eyed. I wondered if maybe he was an old school friend of my mum's, as he was wearing a Yale jacket – Yale was the university in America my mum went to. I couldn't help but smile back at him; I knew he was a more special and dearer friend to my mum, I just knew it. I tucked it into my pocket.

Hopefully I could figure out who this guy was. I had a feeling he could tell me more about my mother and father.

. . .

After fixing myself lunch, I began subconsciously thinking about my friends.

It was true; I missed them. By now, I would've been over at the Potters', the Weasleys', or the Burrow. Right now, we would've been laughing around the fire, talking about what had happened over the first term and what would happen over the next. I would've been telling them that my grandparents were in Scotland to cure my great uncle of chicken pox. Scorpius would suggest ways of curing it; he was the Potions genius out of the four of us. As Scorpius would be listing the ingredients, Albus would crack a joke about the name of one. Rose and I would simultaneously smack him upside the head, causing Scorpius to laugh, and we would all laugh along.

I sighed, putting my cup of tea down and running a hand through my chestnut locks. I missed those times, and now it was all thrown away because of a stupid Yule Ball. Why did things have to be so complicated? Before that, it was normal; we had our inside jokes and good times...how could things change in the blink of an eye? Rose and Albus obviously hate me, and Scorpius is probably embarrassed and hates me, too...

Well, he probably hates me the least, so why not owl him? I got up from the kitchen table and sprinted up the stairs to my room. I got a piece of parchment out of my trunk (I didn't feel like unpacking) along with a quill and ink pot. Sitting down at my desk, my hand hovering over the page, I wondered what I should write. Well, him being Scorpius, my brother-from-another-mother, I decided to be straightforward.

Dear Scorpius,

I know, you're probably surprised that I'm writing to you, but, honestly, I've never heard silence quite this loud. I just want you to know that you don't even have to write back; you can just toss it aside, but please, just read this. Here goes nothing...

I miss you. I miss Rose. I miss Albus. I miss everything we all used to do, the pranks, the jokes, Quidditch...just being there for each other. What happened to the four of us, the Golden Quartet? I know I ruined your chances with Rose, and I'm sorry, I truly am. If you don't want to talk to me ever again, then that's fine. I just needed some therapy by writing this letter. And, just know, that even if you hate me, even if all three of you do, just remember, I still care.

Your friend (or ex-friend),

Thalia Willcox

I looked at the letter. I had just poured my heart out to Scorpius and I felt better about it already. I folded it up, and placed it in a crisp envelope. I gave Athena a treat and, when she was done, I tied the letter to her leg.

"3097 Willow Street, London England, to Scorpius Malfoy, who resides on the second floor." I said. Athena nipped my finger affectionately, reminding me that she already knew the address by heart, as the four of us wrote to each other non-stop.

As Athena flew away, I wished on my lucky stars that everything would be fine again.

A/N: I think I just gave you all a giant clue there...or possibly gave it away...

If you think you know what I'm talking about, please review, but I won't give you the answer. When the story's done, and if you found you're right, then congratulations! You're awesome in my books! :D

Hehe, okay, for last chapter's A/N #2 (you know? About the American who was attacked by Death Eaters? Yeah, that one) I will repeat the clues.

-Blood Relation

-Something in a tiny crystal ball in the Department of Mysteries (is mentioned in Ootp)

Review!

TFI