Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the franchise.

Written for QLFC Round 8, Wigtown Wanderers

Prompts:

(word) stubborn

(sentence) Sometimes it is the smallest of decisions that change your life forever.

Main character: Rose Weasley

Dear Mum,

This feels weird. Writing letters, I mean. I really don't see the point of you insisting that we write you these, especially when Grandpa got us those wicked phones. I mean, you're now practically a phone call away. And an Apparate too. Or a Floo ride. Seriously Mum, what is the point again?

Sorry, getting distracted.

So, how are you? I remember you writing to me last that your chest hurts even more now. If it were up to me, I would personally Apparate right there in that wretched cramped St Mungo's ward and get you out as soon as possible, but no, you have to be so stubborn. Why don't you realise that there are far better doctors in the world? And with better facilities and whatnot. Your totally illogical insistence on not meeting us during this flu of yours, and not letting yourself get transferred is completely beyond my comprehension.

Anyhow, I also remember you hating me ranting about this issue. So fine, I'll talk about something else. How about my ball last night?

It was utterly magical, Mum! I absolutely loved that dress you sent me. It was just so perfect; I can't even begin to imagine how much time you must have spent making it, gosh. Is that what you do all the time you are there in that ward? I can't even begin to explain how gorgeously it fit me. I bet Aunt Angie helped you with the little ribbon around the waist, didn't she? I know she did, because I mentioned only to her how I adore those little sashes around the waist! She's a dear, just give her a hug from me when she meets you. I cannot wait for the holidays, so that I can just meet her and give her this huge sloppy kiss.

So, about the dress and how I looked in it! The fit was amazing. It was just perfectly snug at the waist, though I tightened it a bit with that ribbon, and the neck was just rightly deep to frame the locket that Scorpius gave me! It was a shimmery silver swirl of circles and pearls, and it looked ethereal, ah. And everyone from Fred to Victoire to Lily told me how great the sparkles on the midnight-black dress looked! I felt like a proper princess, and Scorpius and I had a great time.

You will not believe how adorable Hugo and Lily looked! Lily was dancing with some boy from her class, probably John Finnigan. They were so cute, with their matching purple dress and tie respectively! Hugo was dancing, I swear, and he looked totally at ease with his girlfriend, Nancy Harper. Gosh, it was when they were dancing slowly that it hit me, that pesky little "Hew" is now fourteen years old. How fast did he grow up?!

You know, Mum, I missed you so much yesterday. I bet you would have fussed about my hair for hours before the Ball, trying to fluff up my dead-straight locks and add some volume to them. Well, you needn't have worried; Lily is a mad genius at this stuff. She managed to create a wavy look to my hair and weave some band through it, so it almost looked like a tiara. She is amazing; you should see her concentrate at the job. She resembles you at your Potions and concoctions. Uncanny, I tell you. Sometimes, it's almost as though you're next to me.

You know what? I have half a mind to march up to your laboratory and start seeing what things you do exactly. I know you told me that you breathed in the fumes from when you added rootbeer stem to gingerwing lace, but I read up on it and the book in the library says that it's rather harmless and can be cured within a week at most. What are you still lurking about in St Mungo's for, Mum?!

I am telling you, those doctors are robbing you blind. And you and Dad are just letting the one slip through your fingers. It's so utterly irresponsible, Mum. God, I see where I get my supposed stubbornness from.

Okay, I am sorry if that hurt you. It's just that…I miss you loads. I miss you being home for the weekends that we got free at Hogwarts, I miss you asking after my studies, especially when I'd flunk an exam or two, I miss you sending me that Howler when Fred and I broke Professor McGonagall's window with the enchanted Quaffle.

I miss you!

I really want you to get over the flu quickly. I am just not used to you being down and low. You're this irrepressible whirlwind of superpowers that just cannot be contained. Everyone here keeps telling me how brilliant you all were, how brave you and Uncle Harry and Dad were, how extremely plucky you three were. It's a different matter that Professor Longbottom gives me this scandalised look whenever I end up in detention every week or so. I think he finds it hard to believe that you and I share the same genes! Really, you shouldn't have been so bloody amazing; it's a Herculean task for me to match you.

Get well soon, will you?

All my love and a gripping hug from me!

Very proudly your daughter,

Rose

Sighing deeply to herself, she closed her eyes and folded the letter, a dull ache in her chest. She knew it was not because of the tumour in her lungs, but because she had to lie to her children, yet again. Hugo had sent her a letter too, though it was in a neater handwriting, with the calmness and poise that he seemed to possess by his own virtue.

Rose, on the other hand, she thought fondly, was a complete firework. She had eerily possessed the proclivity for mischief as the twins had, and with her cousin Fred, was the source of most letters sent by hassled teachers to her helplessly amused parents. Despite having performed poorly in some exams, she knew that Rose possessed a razor-sharp brain which, if put to better use than planting cleverly concealed Dungbombs, would easily let her top her class. But she knew better than to tell Rose the same. The girl also possessed the ego equalling Hogwarts in size, and would just shrug off any rebukes, withdrawing into her shell instead.

She slowly opened her eyes when she felt a weight settle onto the bed and opened her weary eyes to see her husband sitting at the edge of the bed, a tender expression on his face.

"Hey," she smiled faintly, feeling the smile stretch across her thin face.

His eyes welled up and he spoke, "You know that there is therapy, right? Rose is right, we can get you better doctors. This is not incurable. Please don't refuse-"

Tilting her head to the side, she interrupted him in a sad voice, "I have looked up practically everything that there is to this. There's no cure; it's just delaying the inevitable, and you know it. Please, don't prod me more on this, I cannot see you like this."

Not caring to wipe his tears, he sobbed unabashedly and clenched his jaw, "You'e being selfish! You're not thinking what this'll do to everyone. To Rose and Hugo. To Ginny and Harry. To…to me," his voice cracked, his shoulders slumping as he shrunk into himself at his last words.

"Please…don't make it harder than it is…" she spoke softly, in a pleading tone as she reached her hand out to lace her fingers through his. Before she could do so, he closed his eyes shut firmly, a tear falling onto the back of her hand. Pulling his hand painfully from hers, he rubbed his eyes furiously and strode out, his shoulders shaking as the pain gushed from within.

Watching his tall frame fade away, she turned to her side and curled up into herself under her blanket, Rose's letter rustling in her hand. Tenderly bringing it to her lips, she gently kissed the paper that still smelled of ink and binding glue.

He thinks I'm being unfair. What's unfair is giving a little girl hope that her mother will live, and to have that hope snatched away from her every passing day. What's unfair is to give a family dreams of a happy future, when it could crumble to ashes anytime. What's unfair is to let a boy have assurance that his mother will be there to help him take care of his children. What's unfair is to be a ticking time bomb. To not just die yourself, but kill everyone slowly in the process too. I know he won't understand. Neither will Hugo. But I hope, and know somewhere within the deep recesses of my heart, that Rose will. She always does. She's my only hope to keep them together. To make them understand. She's literally my rose among these thorns of sadness, thought Hermione sadly, breathing raggedly as sobs racked her frail body.

She had been called the brightest witch of her age. She had never thought that she would ever see this moment, the moment where she actually began planning her death. She used to battle death with Harry and Ron. Now, she only awaited death to come and relieve her of the pain. Now, she had taken a choice to not let the sickness break her soul. To not let it change her. To not let herself be remembered as a victim, but a graceful warrior.

It was a decision that had taken her a lot of thought. By no means was it a small one. But Hermione knew that sometimes it is the smallest of decisions that change your life forever.

A/N:

Hello readers, this is the next instalment. I know this is supposed to be "Letters", but I found it much easier to write the character of Rose from her mother's, and her letter's perspective. I hope you like it.

Thoughts and reviews are highly appreciated.

~Ana