[edited: 26/04/2016]
Chapter 5
Telling the Father
I sat in my bed, my knees drawn up to my chest, looking out of the window at the stars. They were so much clearer in Devon than at home. Dom was already asleep opposite me, a small smile playing on her lips. I sighed, for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. I'd be seventeen in just under an hour, but the thought of seeing Scorpius was twisting my stomach into terrible knots.
I flopped down onto my side and drew the covers up to my chin tightly, my eyes still painfully wide open. It was like Christmas Eve, except that Scorpius' present seemed to be a baby.
I hugged my arms around myself. It was lonely work being pregnant at sixteen, but I didn't think the label 'pregnant at seventeen' ensured popularity either. I sighed again and rolled over, stuffing my face into the pillow agitatedly. About forty minutes later, my eyes finally closed of their own accord and I drifted off to sleep.
"ROSE! ROSE, IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY! ROSIE!"
A pillow hit me in the stomach, briefly knocking my breath away, and I opened my eyes indignantly. "I'm awake!"
"HAPPY SEVENTEENTH!" she squealed, loud enough to wake the rest of the house.
"Oh, my god," I exclaimed, sitting up suddenly and whacking my head against the headboard. "Ouch!" I rubbed it with my already injured hand.
"Do some magic!" Dom commanded excitedly, dropping onto the corner of my bed and lying back against the mattress.
I grinned nervously and picked up my wand from my bedside table, enjoying the feeling of it in my hand. I was an adult now. This was an adult's wand, and it was about to perform magic outside of Hogwarts for the first time.
"Hurry up," Dom interrupted my train of thought impatiently. "I'll be seventeen by the time you've cast a spell."
I glanced at her in annoyance, but part of me was just as impatient for the other part of me to get on with it and abuse my own privilege. I pointed my wand at the woolly blanket hanging off Dom's bed.
"Wingardium Leviosa," I said slowly, enjoying the way the sound filled a room that I'd never uttered those words in. I guided the blanket over to us reverently, enjoying the awed expression on my cousin's face. While she was staring up at the hovering material, her mouth forming a slight 'o', I dropped it on her head.
"You're a bitch," she protested in a muffled voice, wrestling it away from her.
"It's my birthday!" I replied teasingly. "You have to be nice to me."
"No I don't, you're not six," she grumbled, but she didn't insult me again for at least three hours.
Moments later, an owl tapped on the window and the two of us, who had been enthralled by the flames I was waving about on the tip of my wand, jumped violently.
I glanced around anxiously. "What if that's the Ministry?" The biggest rule in my house had always been that anyone who used magic outside of term time could face immediate expulsion, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was still breaking the law.
"Don't be stupid," Dom said uneasily. "You're seventeen."
"Uncle Harry was almost arrested for self-defence when he was fifteen," I replied. "What if I wasn't born until the evening, or something, and it's not legal yet..."
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.
I slid the watch onto my bony wrist and did up the clasp. Slightly in my own world, I pulled a Gryffindor Seeker jersey over my head and went downstairs to the kitchen. Even Dom's seemingly unquenchable excitement had been a little subdued by the arrival of my dad's gift.
The house had almost been returned to primarily Weasley since the party, which made going downstairs for breakfast a lot less stressful, and I found that people were more likely to talk to me now that their insignificant other had left.
I pushed open the kitchen door distractedly, still thinking about the gold watch that was sitting on my wrist comfortably. It was almost like I'd missed its oddly familiar weight until I put it on this morning.
"Happy Birthday, Rose!" a number of people exclaimed suddenly, and I almost jumped out of my skin – and definitely out of my confusion. A few of my younger cousins, mum, nana and granddad, Teddy (who looked uncomfortably similar to me, grinning cheekily), uncle Harry and auntie Ginny, and – for some indistinguishable reason – the Scamander twins, were all gathered in the huge kitchen. There was a silver banner hanging across the window proclaiming the same message, and on a second glance I realised that everyone was wearing party hats. A broad grin spread across my face.
Before I could say anything, Mum was hugging me tightly. "Happy birthday, darling," she beamed.
"Thank you," I grinned, relieved that she was able to be so nice, even if it was only for my birthday.
She pressed a jewellery box into my hand, and for a moment I panicked that she had also followed the seventeenth birthday watch tradition, and that I'd have to choose between both my parents, because I could imagine just about how well that would go (I had terrible mental images of having to wear one watch on each arm and being bullied mercilessly for being weird "two-watch-Rose" until I was forced to run away from Hogwarts and abandon my education because I'd lost all my friends).
"You look concerned, love," mum said gently, and I realised that the whole room was watching this scenario pan out in my head. I resolved to worry about it if and only if it came to it, and flipped open the jewellery box.
Mum had bought me a necklace on a thin gold chain. The necklace had a small, golden time-turner hanging off it, almost as realistic as the original ones before mum and dad and uncle Harry smashed them all and prevented anyone from getting all twelve OWLs ever again (mum had felt personally responsible for ruining everyone's education for a long time after that). I lifted it up between my fingers, admiring it, and then caught sight of a piece of parchment folded underneath.
Darling Rose, it read.
Happy, happy seventeenth. I hope you have a wonderful day.
If ever things get a bit muddled in your life, I hope the time turner can remind you that you always make the right decision, if only you take ten seconds out to think.
Lots of love,
Mum
I smiled up at her, unable to stop wondering if she'd written this before or after dad had pissed off, but I was really trying not to let my parents' argument spoil my seventeenth birthday. She grinned back nervously, hugging her cardigan around her.
"Sit down and have some breakfast, Rose," Nana was saying kindly.
I sat down next to Teddy and accepted a plate of bacon and eggs gratefully. Nana placed a package down in front of me and stepped back as if she was embarrassed. I tore off the shiny wrapping paper quickly, my breakfast momentarily forgotten.
My mouth dropped open when I saw my present. Nana and Granddad had somehow procured me a Weasley clock. It was much smaller than the one that held pride of place in the corner of the kitchen, which had first told auntie Ginny when James had put Al on his first adult broomstick, aged just nineteen months (mortal peril), but it was a perfect size to have on my bedside table in the dormitory.
There was a black bag of blank hands tucked inside the wrapping paper aswell.
"I can show you how to charm them to have names on," Nana said, a little nervously. "And you can change all the times to show more relevant activities... Do – do you like it?"
"Oh, I love it!" I exclaimed, jumping up to give Nana an unexpected hug. "Thank you so much! Thank you!"
"You're ever so welcome dear," she smiled gladly. "I was lucky to find this one. The other week I bumped into the man who sold us ours all those years. I haven't seen him in years... he's even older than me! He said that he was about to go into retirement, but that he just had a few left, and I thought it was perfect. I'm so pleased you like it, love!"
I beamed at her and turned my attention back to my breakfast, glancing at the clock in admiration every now and then.
Just as everyone was becoming engrossed in their breakfasts, the sleeve of my sweatshirt slipped down and the gold of the watch sparkled in the light, catching mum's eye.
"Who's the watch from, Rose?" she asked nicely.
My heart sank, although I didn't understand why I felt like I had to be so secretive. He was still my father. "I – well..."
"It was from dad wasn't it?" she interrupted.
I nodded slowly.
"Could I have a look at it Rose?" she asked carefully. Everything seemed to have slowed down, and I couldn't work out if it was my new model time-turner or just fear of upsetting my mum.
I nodded again and slid the watch off my wrist. She examined it, and as I watched, I noticed a few tears glaze over her eyes
"What's... What's wrong mum?" I asked softly.
"Nothing – just... This was your father's seventeenth birthday present from your Nana and Granddad. God – that was a day-" Uncle Harry started to chuckle further down the table. "Your dad took a love potion from a girl in the year above which was meant for Harry, so he took Ron to Slughorn to get some sort of antidote prepared..." Mum was laughing too much to continue, which in theory was brilliant because she hadn't laughed with or about Dad in my presence since September, but she did sound a little hysterical.
Uncle Harry took up the story. "So I took him to Slughorn, hoping that he'd sort Ron out and then we could laugh about it; I needed to be in his good books at that time, for something Dumbledore had asked me to do. Slughorn began preparing something to make him fall out of love with Romilda Vane –" the mention of this name sent mum into a further fit of mildly hysterical giggles. " – and while we were waiting, Slughorn offered Ron a glass of mead to celebrate his birthday. Only..." Harry's voice trembled with amusement. "Only the mead was a gift from Malfoy to Dumbledore, so it had been poisoned – which, of course, is only funny because it never got chance to kill anyone," he added hastily. "So Ron drank this mead and then suddenly he's on the floor choking, and he spend the next week in the hospital wing, where he also inadvertently dumped Lavender Brown for Hermione in some kind of poisoned stupor." Ginny let out a snort of laughter. I couldn't stop grinning.
"Seriously?"
"Absolutely. Your dad spent his seventeenth birthday unconscious," Harry chuckled. Even Nana's lips were twitching in amusement.
Mum finally wiped at her eyes and straightened her face. "So, anyway, this is your dad's watch, darling."
I nodded slowly, unsure of the appropriate response.
"He still loves you to bits, Rose. You just pissed him off," she half grinned.
I smiled. "I've got a bad habit of doing that."
She raised her eyebrows but her eyes were sparkling. "I'd noticed."
I was sitting on my bed next to a small pile of wrapping paper, staring into the depths of the sand in the time turner. I'd received a few more presents from my family, but I never expected much, with my birthday being so close to Christmas. I needed to leave for Diagon Alley quite soon, but I felt sick every time I thought about Scorpius' stupid grey eyes. They were so intense. I occasionally caught his gaze from the Gryffindor table at dinner, and boy could he hold a stare. I imagined he was very good at staring contests. I also imagined that he was mature enough to not find amusement in them at sixteen (at least I had my age over him).
His eyes really were mesmerising, though.
"Alright, birthday girl?"
I glanced up in surprise to see Dom coming into the room, wrapped in the fluffy dressing gown that Victoire had bought her for Christmas. "Yeah," I said slowly. "I was just thinking... I'd better get ready soon, I–"
"-have to go and meet Scorpius," Dom nodded, finishing my sentence. "What are you going to wear?"
I shrugged. "A bin bag. I really think that it's more important that I go with a clear head and don't fuck up, you know?"
"You need to make a good impression," she argued.
I raised my eyebrows. "What for? He knows who I am..." I left the sentence hanging, waiting for someone else to say 'two months ago he got out of my bed on a Wednesday morning and took himself off to Transfiguration, leaving me asleep in a stupid, red lingerie set. He saw every inch of me, at my drunkest. He watched me sleep with my mouth open, probably dribbling', but no one did.
"I mean; you can't let him get to you. You can't turn up looking like your whole world has fallen apart, Rose. You're stronger than that. Make him admire you."
"My whole world has fallen apart," I mumbled, but she ignored me. She made a good point. I didn't know what Scorpius was going to say, but I didn't want pity; not from him. If he wanted in, he had to want it. I wasn't accepting his help or his money if he was only offering it because I looked gloomy and pathetic (perpetually).
"I was thinking you should wear that red suede skirt?"
"Listen, Dom, I know you're not cursed with a mane like this, but I'm telling you now, red and red is not a flattering look."
"And I'm telling you that I'm not taking no for an answer, Weasley. I'll do your makeup. Come on, you're already running late!"
I sighed loudly, in a pathetic form of defiance, and slid off the bed to start having a look for the skirt in my trunk, which was now atrociously messy, after living out of it for two weeks.
About half an hour later, I was standing in front of our mirror awkwardly, wearing the red suede skirt, a dark green sweater, knitted tights and a pair of ankle boots. Dom had tamed my hair to not grow upwards, and I was now wearing mascara and eyeliner, and she'd filled my eyebrows in (I hadn't let her go near me with the bronzer because that normally ended in tears).
"You're looking hot, Rosie. He's not going to know what hit him," she said reassuringly.
I shook my head. "No, he's not. Anyway, I'd better go," I said suddenly, checking my watch. I didn't want to be late and for Scorpius to think that I couldn't manage myself, let alone a child (although it was true). I shrugged my new duffel coat on, feeling horribly sick, and gave her an uncomfortable smile.
"You call the shots, Rose," she reminded me encouragingly. "Don't you dare take any shit from Malfoy."
"Thanks pal," I replied nervously. "See you in a bit."
"Good luck!"
I headed down the stairs shakily to the living room, where everything was hooked up to the floo network. For once in my life, some higher power was on my side, and none of my cousins intercepted me to ask where I was going 'looking... nice?'
I threw a handful of glittering floo powder into the flames and watched them turn green distractedly. Before I had time to think about what I was doing, I stepped into them and called out, in a voice that didn't seem to come from me, "The Leaky Cauldron."
I stepped out of the fire at the other end shakily and hurried into the toilet to check my hair, and do a nervous wee. The rush of air from floo-ing had whipped my curls around but I managed to flatten them down a little. My face was completely white, but I suspected that had nothing to do with my mode of travel. I took a few deep breaths and pinched my cheeks to get a little colour into them (I briefly contemplated climbing out of the tiny window and running away into muggle London – at least the cold air would bring some colour into my face – but I just about talked myself out of that one) and stepped out into the bar carefully to find a table.
"Fuck, sorry!" I exclaimed, walking straight into the back of a tall, hard body. I'd been too busy looking at my feet to make sure they didn't take me right out of the building.
The person turned around and stared in amusement. "Rose?"
FUCK. "Scorpius?"
"The one and only," he grinned cockily.
I had to concentrate very hard on not glaring. "How are you?" I asked in an unusually high-pitched voice. "Happy New Year!"
"Likewise. I'm alright, how about you?"
I mumbled an indistinguishable "fine thanks."
"Shall we grab a table?"
"Mm," I replied evasively, following him through the pub to a corner booth which made it look weirdly like we were on a date.
God, the horrible irony of this was that I was getting everything I'd always wanted. Obviously fourteen-year-old Rose had had an enormous crush on Malfoy, and sixteen-year-old Rose had slept with him, and seventeen-year-old Rose was now basically on the most perverse date ever with him. Unfortunately, she was carrying his baby, which was never in her life plan.
Scorpius sat down expectantly, staring me down with those bloody grey eyes as I slowly took off my coat and sat down, quickly picking up a menu to hide my face.
"What are you having?" I asked in the same weirdly high-pitched voice. "The sandwiches are always good here, and the soup - ooh, I do fancy some soup..."
Scorpius indulged this for a good ten minutes, because he was a seriously polite boy. "I think I'll have a salad," he said finally. "Shall I order for us?"
"Um, yeah, ok. I'll have the chicken soup – but I'll pay for it," I added firmly.
"Don't be silly," he said immediately.
"I'm not," I replied, finding my spirit. "We're just two people having a meal opposite each other. You've got no contractual obligation to pay for my lunch, but why should you? I'm ok."
He shrugged. "Have it your way." He made eye contact with the waiter and quickly ordered my soup, his salad, a jug of water and two butterbeers. Finally, he fixed his stare on me and said, "why am I here, then?"
I opened my mouth and then paused. I didn't have any distractions left. I shook my head slowly. "Fuck."
"What's wrong, Rose?"
I thought I could feel sick rising in my throat again but I ignored it. God – if I told Scorpius he was going to become a father, this all got very real very quickly. It wasn't just my little secret anymore; it was going to start turning people (less volatile than my parents) away from me.
"So – I mean... you remember Halloween?"
He nodded once, his face perfectly expressionless. "Yes. What about it?"
I could almost see the cogs in his brain working: STI – Baby – STI – Baby – Weasley?! – what if – fuck –what's worse, baby or HIV?
"... Pregnant," I whispered finally. "I'm – pregnant."
Scorpius' face was a dangerously ashen colour. I had to lower my gaze, because I felt I was interrupting a very private moment in his head, so I concentrated on his hands instead. His fingers were longer than I'd expected, and thin. I wondered briefly if he was a pianist, but I decided to concentrate on that particular train of thought another time. He was wearing a thin navy jumper and a white shirt underneath. The cuffs of his shirt poked out of the sleeves of his jumper just the right amount, and he wasn't even covered in someone else's cat's hair. Suddenly I could see it again – what I'd been steadfastly ignoring for two months; his perfect bone structure, his clear complexion... Scorpius Malfoy was really godlike. At least the child had a fifty percent chance of not being ginger, freckly and gangly.
"And it's – mine?" Scorpius asked finally in a low voice.
I nodded.
"... Are you – are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," I snapped. "What do you take me for?"
"Sorry!" he retorted. "This is a lot to take in, Rose!"
"Do you think I don't know?!"
"I wasn't trying to make a comparison!" he argued. "Give me a minute to get to grips with this!"
"Right... right, sorry," I mumbled, staring at the table. "You've got all the time in the world.
He seemed to need it. Our butterbeer arrived in the midst of the two of us sitting in complete silence, not looking at each other. I knew that my cheeks were flushed and my hair had probably spontaneously frizzed just from raising my voice. Scorpius was staring out of the window at the snow in the courtyard, completely lost in thought. I pulled my drink towards me and took a sip, grateful for its immediate comfort. The silence was weirdly companionable; I'd just turned Scorpius' world inside out, and I was still coming to terms with the demise of my own. For one blindly naïve moment, I thought we might be able to see each other through this.
"How much do you want?" he said finally.
"What do you mean?" I asked, floored.
"I mean, like, child support," he said, a colourful blush spreading across his nose. "You know, to buy all the shit babies need and feed them and all that."
"I can do that on my own," I said hotly.
"Don't be stupid," he replied sharply. "It's mine too!"
"Well are you going to be around for it?"
He opened his mouth but it was a long time before any words came out. "I – I don't know. Maybe. If I can."
"What do you fucking mean?"
"This is a lot to take in, Rose! I've got a lot on my plate. I want to become a Healer – that's a lot of work. Next year is very important for me."
"What about me?!" I hissed. "I've got aspirations too, you bloody prick. Did you think having a baby might just be easy for me? Did you think I'd planned it? This is about the least convenient thing in the whole shitty world, Scorpius. I am fucked. This isn't all about you!"
"No – I didn't mean it like that," he snapped. "I just meant I don't want to make promises I can't keep."
"Why should you get to not have to keep your promises?!" I cried. "Why should it be ok for the baby to never meet its father? This time next year, I'll be at home singing fucking lullabies and you'll be getting wasted with your mates, making exactly the same mistakes and swanning away from them, because you're a rich little boy and you think you can do that."
"THAT IS NOT TRUE!" he shouted, and half of the pub whipped round to stare at us. He ignored them, but lowered his voice. "You don't have to be in this either, Rose! Clearly you're not ready for a child – and that's fine – so just don't have it! Or have it adopted! We don't have to do this!"
"It doesn't seem that easy to me!" I exclaimed. "But it's fine. I get it. You're out. You had a chance. Have a nice life, Malfoy. Good fucking luck to you."
I stood up and snatched my coat from the chair, almost knocking over my half-empty butterbeer in the process.
"Rose, stop it!" Scorpius replied coldly. "Don't be silly – sit down and have your lunch and we can both calm down –" But I was gone.
I stormed out of the pub into Diagon Alley, staring up at Gringotts. I couldn't quite tell what I'd just ruined this time, but I was sure it would become painfully apparent soon.
I found myself caught up in a crowd of sales shoppers pushing their way through the narrow streets, until I'd ended up in the joke shop. I was still burning with anger, and the heat of everyone packed together seemed to only intensify it. I didn't really know what I was doing at Uncle George's shop, but then, I didn't really know what I was doing with the rest of my life anymore.
It wasn't that I'd expected Scorpius to jump up and go 'yes, I'll help you look after our baby, my love, let's move to the countryside and raise it together in the most loving family either of us can imagine', but I'd wanted a little more... something! Sympathy, maybe. I didn't want that kind of pity from anyone else, because it wasn't a mistake they'd have to live with later, but I was just looking for some shared understanding between Scorpius and me. I supposed I'd been unconsciously clinging to him as a final lifeline, but he'd severed that, and now I was definitely more alone than before. On my seventeenth birthday.
I almost burst into tears.
"Rose?!"
I glanced up. Albus was standing over me with a paper bag probably full of the start of term prank and a concerned expression.
"What are you doing here?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "You know..."
"No, I don't," he said firmly. "Come on, let's go outside."
He gripped my upper arm and dragged me back out into the cold. I pulled my coat tighter around me, feeling downright miserable.
"So, what's going on?" Al repeated, just as James bounded up behind him.
"Alright Red? Al, Fred and I are nipping into QQS –"
"Hang on, James," Al interrupted. "Rose looks like she's going to cry and it may well be you, so shut up, yeah?"
I cracked a feeble grin. James looked offended, but he finally took a proper look at my face.
"Blimey, you're right for once, you little Slytherin prick," he said affectionately. "What's up, Rose?"
"I'm fine," I protested weakly. "I just met someone for lunch, but..."
"But what?" Al asked sharply.
I shrugged. "But it was the most unpleasant lunch date in the world so I left."
"What happened? Who was it?"
I sighed, thinking that I may as well tell him. I'd already told his best friend; he was going to hear soon, if not from Malfoy then from his own parents, probably.
"Malfoy," I mumbled.
"Who?!" Al asked. "I don't think I heard you right – I thought you just said Scorp."
James laughed. "Yeah, a birthday lunch with Malfoy, just Rose's scene, come on Albus, don't be ridiculous."
I shrugged again. They were both looking at me suddenly.
"You know what," James continued. "It's almost like she did meet Malfoy for lunch?"
"Except that that would be really weird," Al said uneasily. "I mean – unless... oh, my god."
I smiled humourlessly. "Exactly."
"Exactly what?!" James demanded. The colour had flooded right out of Al's face. "Exactly what?!"
I met his eyes. "The thing is, James: I'm, er, pregnant."
The look on his face was priceless.
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