The Diary Of Rose Weasley- Sixth Year And Pregnant

Telling the Father

Dom suddenly snapped out of her reverie. "Come on, Rose, it's your birthday," she said briskly. "The Ministry aren't going to put you in trouble for using magic on your seventeenth. And besides, you've met the new Minister; I doubt he even knows that it's illegal outside Hogwarts."

The new Minister had caused serious controversy amongst my family. He truly was useless, but Uncle Percy had stuck to him like glue which had led to arguments between him and Dad, him and Uncle George and even him and Uncle Harry – "don't be a fool again, Percy; Fudge was a prat." "It's important to understand what's going on in our government, Harry." "The rest of us do it perfectly well from afar, though, and no one will forgive you for making the same mistake twice." (I hadn't meant to hear that. A few moments later, Uncle Percy stormed into the kitchen and the conversation was over).

I sighed. "You're probably right. It's just not your criminal record on the line."

"Well, you won't know until you open it, will you?"

She made a good point. I opened the window to let the offensive owl in. I didn't recognise it, but honestly it didn't look like a Ministry owl. I took the letter from its proffered leg carefully, half wincing at the memory of Juno stabbing my hand, and flipped over the envelope.

Rose Weasley, the Burrow, it read, in such untidy scrawl that all my fears were immediately laid to rest. The only person that worked for the Ministry with such untidy handwriting was my dad.

"It's a birthday card," Dom started to chuckle. "All that fuss over a birthday card... James is never going to let you live this down!"

I became momentarily distracted to exclaim, "don't you dare tell him! It was a perfectly rational response!"

"No, it wasn't," she smirked. "Anyway, what does it say?"

I turned my attention back to the envelope, ripping it open, not expecting anything particularly emotional, but still hoping that it might tell me he was standing in the kitchen waiting to give me my present.

Dear Rose,

Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I can't spend the day with you, but unfortunately I have other matters to attend to at the moment. I hope you can forgive me.

I hope you have a brilliant day. I have enclosed your present. I hope you like it.

All the best,

Dad

I put the letter aside, ignoring the lump in my throat, and fished out a maroon jewellery box from the envelope. It was tied in a gold ribbon. I tugged on the end of the ribbon gently and it fell away. Dom was watching silently. I removed the lid.

Inside sat a gold watch. The face was transparent, so the cogs behind it were visible, and the hands were silver. There was a small scratch on the band, but other than that it was in perfect condition. It was really lovely. I picked it up cautiously. It felt comfortably heavy in my hand. I turned it over.

Dear Rosie, Love Dad was engraved in intricate calligraphy (far superior to dad's handwriting) on the back. A little flame of hope sparked up inside me. If dad was still calling me Rosie, then surely I hadn't fucked up too badly.

"Can I have a look?" Dom asked gently.

I nodded and passed it over. She took it in both hands and turned it over and over, admiring it.

"This is really nice, Rose," she said finally. Her sincerity floored me for a moment – like, sure, it was a nice watch but it wasn't quite the same as having my dad back, was it? – but I smiled gratefully at her and accepted it back.