Chapter 5. Rose Weasley.

She sat in the darkened study, her head on Theo's desk chair headrest. Fatigue washed over her in waves, but the memories of recent events wouldn't let her close her eyes. Her heart was beating fast in alarm and only the familiar and dear scent, as though creating an illusion of Theo's presence, gave her strength to stay put.

Perhaps, it was always in the air – this desire to aid and defend. In their family, the notion was practically an air-born infection, according to Malfoy.

At the thought of the latter, Rose smiled in the dark. Yes, it appeared that the Potter-Weasley atmosphere was very contagious, indeed.

Malfoy's Expelliarmus Spell might cause Malfoy's daddy a coronary. And she could almost see the look on Uncle Harry's face when he heard of it. And on Lily's…

Lily. Merlin, she will be alright, won't she? Surely, she will remember Scorpius! It wouldn't be for naught that he has learned to pull such merciful stunts…

She didn't feel like thinking about Malfoy – it brought back rather unpleasant memories of the final hours at the Gregorys' cottage, and then the questioning at the Ministry, where they practically begged her not to tell anyone about the role of a high-ranked Ministry official in the unfortunate events. Kingsley himself spoke to her – the Minister looked embarrassed and even guilty, which gave hope that whoever stood behind Marcus Devereaux would not go scott free. At least it wasn't likely that Uncle Harry would let it.

"Is there someone here?" came very faint, quiet voice from behind the curtains surrounding Sarah's bed. Rose started, realizing that she'd nodded off after all, staring at the glowing watch face. She kept waiting for someone to come back – with good or bad tidings…

The girl rose to her feet, lit a candle with a wave of her wand, and walked over to the bed where Sarah now lay awake. Rose met the gaze of dulled, slightly slanted eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Rose asked, clearing her throat.

"I am thirsty," the sick woman's lips barely moved, possibly from weakness.

Rose promptly summoned a water pitcher and a glass, then leaned over, to help Sarah lift her head. The glass knocked against the woman's teeth, she swallowed with difficulty, gasping for breath.

"Is this better?" Rose set aside the half-empty glass and fixed the pillows under Sarah's head. Even the simple action had Sarah exhausted.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, closing her eyes.

"You are Rose," her voice was like rustling of old newspaper pages.

"Yes," the other sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle Sarah. The sick woman opened her eyes, dulled from her illness – they were blue.

"Your father keeps many pictures of you," Sarah answered the unasked question. How old is she? Twenty five? Twenty seven? At least on the outside, her father's girlfriend looked very young and fragile. On the other hand, can a twenty-seven year old have a daughter who is a First Year at Hogwarts? Theoretically, yes. But then, what is she doing with Father, who is over forty? "Where is he?"

"He took Bertie back to school; she was here."

"My poor girl…" Sarah's eyelashes fluttered, momentarily obstructing the blue. She was silent for a bit, as though gathering her strength to speak again. "Have we been here long?"

She didn't ask where "here" was, as though guessing what Rose's father had to have done to save her.

"Several days," Rose had the impression that Sarah was looking at walls, curtains, and ceiling, just so that she didn't have to look at her. "You will be better soon. I think that when Theo – the Healer – returns, he'll be able to give you some relief."

"Hardly," the sick woman grinned weakly, finally looking straight at Rose. Her face livened up and now looked even younger. "I can just feel the Moon growing."

"Theo will help," Rose insisted, looking away.

"I suppose he already has, seeing as I am still alive."

Rose's eyebrows rose in surprise at Sarah's almost disappointed tone:

"Would you rather have it the other way?"

The other was quiet while pondering the answer:

"Not I. You."

Silence in the glow of several lamps took on a marble quality.

"I never wished for your death," Rose said harshly, frowning.

"You should have…"

"Rubbish."

Sarah smiled, a genuine smile this time; this smile aged her face, and Rose thought that her father's companion must be over thirty – so old and wise she looked at that moment.

"I never forced him to stay, Rose," her voice grew firmer. "I never had selfishness enough for that. I would send him away, beg for him to leave… Although I knew that it was not an option."

"Why?" Rose also switched to whispering.

"He suffered – that's why I would tell him to leave. He had nowhere to go – that's why he would never leave us."

"He had us."

Bitter smirk grazed dry lips.

"Do you know what a werewolf's bite is like, Rose? No, you don't, thanks to Merlin. It is not simply blood and pain, it is the snap of the scissors that cuts you off from your life. The wolf's fangs tear off your previous existence without granting a new one."

"We would have accepted him however he was."

"Of course you would," a cold, thin hand touched her elbow, and Rose felt like shrinking back. "But he was unhappy – even more so than when he was far away from you. Because such is the price we pay for what we have become. Lone wolves. And everyone survives as best they can; only few can go back to their old lives."

Rose didn't respond.

"You are correct: he stayed with us because of what he'd done to me, although I never blamed him for it. Still, the guilt and shame were too strong in your father, for him to abandon Bertie and me. And no matter how much I would send him away, beg him to leave us, to build a life of his own, to make his way back to his old life, he refused. Because he had no place to go back to…"

Once again, Rose stayed quiet: words of denial would have sounded childish. They listened to silence, and the girl almost prayed for someone to show up and free them from this burdensome conversation.

"I never asked him to be with me," Sarah spoke again, as though feeling the need to explain herself, which Rose did not want at all. "Yes, he bit me, but there was very little of his fault in that. It was all choreographed, because… because Tom wanted me…" fear flashed in her eyes, almost a panic, unchecked, as though the four peaceful years never happened, as though the man responsible for waging a war against their family was not long dead. "And he would have gotten me in any case… Your father had the misfortune of being chosen…"

Rose stayed stock still, listening to what she would have never dared ask her father about – the details about the beginning of the life where he had to walk the thin line between betrayal and rescue.

"He felt guilty, while I only saw in him a protector, for Ronald Weasley, as he'd introduced himself to me, a friend of Harry Potter could not be a traitor. And I asked him to protect my daughter, my Bertie… Tom," her voice faltered again, the blue eyes closed, "threatened me with either biting or killing her if I didn't do what I was told. And then there was the Imperius Curse. Still, I had already managed to ask Ron… your father… to watch out for Bertie, to protect her. And of course, guilty as he was feeling, he did not deny me. But I returned the favor. Everything I could learn, by seeing or hearing, of the pack's plans towards his family, I told him."

Rose's breathing was labored, as she recalled the horrible events of that autumn, when seconds, minutes separated them all from terrible death and new pain. The only one they could not save was Aunt Ginny. And Father…

"Then, after it was over," Sarah was growing weaker, her voice becoming faint, breaking. Perhaps Rose ought to leave her alone, to let her rest, but a strange stupor, coupled with the thirst for knowledge and understanding, would not let her so much as take a deep breath. "When we walked out of that forest…"

"When Dad smuggled you out under the Invisibility Cloak," Rose corrected to herself, almost mechanically, but stayed silent.

"…I would tell him to leave, again and again, but he stayed. I knew how much he suffered, how much he wanted to go back. But I also knew that he would never do it."

"Why?" the whisper sounded almost deafening.

"Because he felt awfully guilty."

"About you?"

"No," a shadow of a smile crossed Sarah's lips. "About her. Your mother."

"Mum?" Rose's felt a lump in her throat, as though all air had been sucked from her lungs. Was she about to learn what really happened between her parents before her father left? Rose always suspected that her mother did not tell her everything, but never pried, afraid to cause Hermione pain.

"He struck her."

Rose gasped. Dad? Her kind, calm, devoted father, who worshipped Mum even when he was cross with her? No, it is crazy...

"Why?"

"I don't know; I never asked," Sarah again covered the girl's hand with her cold palm. "Still, he never forgave himself for it. That is why he never could find it in himself to see her again. He never will. He hasn't gone to see her in the last few days, has he?"

"Does he think himself a danger to her?" Rose didn't bother to answer the question, since Sarah knew it anyway.

"He believes that he has betrayed her. And that he is no longer himself, which is true, to a point."

"Rubbish," Rose felt a throbbing headache. "Even if it is true, Mum had forgiven him ages ago. She loves him."

"But he hasn't forgiven himself," the woman remarked sadly, staring Rose in the eyes. "That is why he stayed with us: to have someone he could continue living for."

"He loves you – that is why he stayed," Rose tried to keep from sounding jealous.

"Yes," Sarah did not argue. "He loves me. Like a sister."

"Hmmm…?"

"I became to him the one he'd buried before leaving you," Sarah said slowly, biting her lip, her blue eyes looking away. "He told me so, many times."

Rose didn't trust her ears, but felt the turmoil in the woman lying before her.

"And you… you love him like a brother?"

"I give him what he needs. And it is enough for me," Sarah continued to look away, her weakened fingers crumpling the corner of the blanket.

Rose attempted to calm her breathing and sort out the newly gained information in her buzzing head.

"Why are you telling me all this?" the girl asked a little harshly, drawing the attention of the now silent Sarah.

"I will not ask him to be with us if… he decides to be here," Sarah chose words with difficulty. "If you ask him to – to stay with you. Although he would probably refuse…"

"I will not ask him to stay," Rose replied promptly. "I don't want him to suffer. It's just that…"

"What?" a thin hand pressed hers.

"It seems to me that, wherever he is, he'll always suffer."

"There is pain and then there is pain."

They fell silent, and Rose tried not to think. It is so hard to be an adult, to not think of herself – especially now! And although she always knew that her father was not coming back – it was written in his face, in the new, fiercely independent look in his eyes, it still hurt to realize it so clearly.

"You know where we live, don't you?" Sarah asked suddenly, closing her eyes.

"We went there."

"Then you will always know where to find him, to see if he is happy. Only…"

"What?"

"Don't take him away from us, not now," the blue eyes looked imploringly, cold hands gripped Rose's palm.

Even if she could do that – to return her father into the fold (which she sincerely doubted) – she would never resort to it. Things were complicated enough, without adding to it. Father, Mum, Uncle Harry, Hugo, Lily and James, herself…

"Bertie likes Hogwarts a great deal," Rose decided to change the topic, looking away from Sarah. "She has become friends with my cousin."

"Yes, she wrote us about it," the emaciated features lit with bright, maternal smile. "And Hogwarts… it is charming."

"Were you a student there?"

"Yes," the other woman looked embarrassed. "I was a Sixth Year, when your cousin came there. James Potter… We were on the same Quidditch team."

Rose did simple arithmetic and looked at Sarah in surprise:

"But then you must be… you are only…"

"I shall be twenty-eight soon," a faint smirk crossed the woman's lips. "I took a year off school, to have Bertie. I know, it ia an odd story. Still, it happens, and in this day and age, it would hardly raise any eyebrows. I fell in love, I got pregnant, I had a baby."

"And who…?"

"Bertie's father was a foreign exchange student, whom I met in a summer camp for young wizards. I never heard about or from him again," Sarah closed her eyes, but never stopped smiling. "I missed the first two years of my Bertie's life almost entirely, as I was finishing my studies at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall often did me a favor, allowing me to take a little time off to visit my baby. Still, it was all kept secret, my mum wouldn't admit for a long time that the child she was raising was her granddaughter. She often told me that I was a naïve fool, to have been taken in and seduced so easily. Nevertheless, I am glad I have my Bertie."

For some reason, Rose did not think Sarah a fool – she had another example that readily came to mind. Lily and Malfoy. It was a blessing that nothing of the sort happened to them.

"Someone is here," Sarah whispered, slowly drifting off to sleep. "Tell Ron that I wish to go home…"

Rose turned around at the sound of quite footsteps in the study. A few seconds later, Theo peered from behind the curtain. His eyes had dark circles around them.

"She came to," Rose whispered, getting to her feet and walking over to the him.

"You are trembling," he sounded almost frightened as he put his arms around the girl. "A difficult conversation?"

"Something like that," she nodded, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'll go make some tea…"

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes," Theo nodded, letting her go. He took off his cloak and went over to Sarah's bedside. Rose walked behind the curtain, composing herself.

Nothing could be changed. No use in suffering and trying to fix things. Especially since she was the only one who wanted change. And she didn't really want it, either. It was easier to relax and leave things as they were.

And to forgive.

The girl had just walked into the darkened living room, when someone strode out of the fireplace.

"Good heavens, Rose! Thanks be to Merlin I was able to find someone! What happened? Where's Harry? Rose…!"

"Mum…" the girl breathed, looking at the worried Hermione Weasley.

I don't want to make this choice! Not me!