[[TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of abuse]]
Leave Out All the Rest
Chapter 34: Rhetorical Things
POV: Lily and Scorpius
"Lily."
"Mum."
"Lily."
"Mum."
"Lily, listen—"
"It's fine, Mrs. Potter," from her side of the cold, white, dreadful room, Emily turned tired, puffy green eyes at my mother and me, cutting both of us off before we could break out into an argument. "Lily can stay."
"See?" I said condescendingly, something I knew Mum would not appreciate.
On cue, Mum frowned at me. "This isn't an easy matter, Lily. You understand that, don't you? This isn't a means to pass time just because you had nothing to do today."
"Don't imply I'm here out of boredom," I said angrily. "I'm not here because I am a child who threw a tantrum. I am here because Em is my friend and—"
"I'm sorry," Emily breathed, cutting across us once more. "I didn't mean to upset you by asking Lily to come, Mrs. Potter. It's just...she's the only one that doesn't ask questions or look at me like..."
Mum's frown was gone as she reached over to Emily, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. Mum wasn't someone who was delicate, not since she grew up with brothers and her love was fierce, but with Emily, she was. She was afraid she was going to break Emily, even if she knew (even if we all knew) she was already broken.
That is why we were here.
To help put her back together again.
"The other kids, they care, Emily," Mum said to her with an attentive look in her eyes, "they care and they worry. Maybe they are not the best at showing or controlling that care and worry, but it's there. And it's all right if it is too much for you right now."
Emily tried to smile back at Mum, like she did understand, but she could not form the gesture. She just looked back at us with that cold, dead gaze I hated to start associating her with.
I wanted to reach out for her, too, but the office door opened. A tall, blonde man in bright, yellow robes marched in with a beaming smile on his face.
What a twat.
"Good afternoon, Miss Taylor, I'm Fabian Valentino," the Healer said in a thick, Italian accent that reminded me of the movie The Godfather (Uncle Ron's favorite film, much to Aunt Hermione's frustration, especially because he watches it with Mister Zabini while sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey).
A look of panic crossed Emily's face. "Where's Healer Boot?"
"Healer Boot had a medical emergency, I'm afraid," Healer Valentino said, "so I will be filling for her today. Is this your mother?" he then asked as he flipped open a file on the desk, eyeing Mum and me. The resemblance was uncanny between only two of us in that office.
"I'm as good as," Mum almost hissed at the Healer. I grinned. "Healer Boot has the legal documents allowing me to accompany this minor to these evaluations. You would have seen so in her file if you would have prepared before seeing Emily."
Healer Valentino cleared his throat, quickly looking away from my mother. He scanned the papers in the file, but said nothing regarding our presence. Instead, almost timidly, he said, "As Madam Pomfrey, from the hospital wing at Hogwarts, reported to you at the time, most of the scarring on your skin will be permanent. However, our potions lab here in St. Mungo's is testing out an ointment for burnt victims that has seen forty-seven percent of positive results. Since the ointment is in its developing process, the side-effects are quite strong. It is up to you and your legal guardian if you want to try it."
"I need the name of this ointment," Mum said immediately. "I will like to get a second opinion from a potioneer."
"M'am, I assure you—"
"Yes, you can assure me all you want to, I'm positive you are all wonderful Healers, but developmental potions with strong side-effects is something I want to run by someone who actually produces and sells them. Draco Malfoy—you might have heard of him—is our family friend, and before I let you test this ointment out on my child, I want to see if he thinks it is worth putting her through it."
Healer Valentino tightened his lips. Hesitantly, he wrote down a long name on parchment and slid it over to Mum.
Yeah, mate, I feel for you. Mum will fight you on every little detail when it comes to her family. And Emily was exactly that to her (to us).
"Tell me about the current state of your scarring, Emily," he then said.
Emily's hands trembled on her lap. "The scars on my forearms are almost white now," she muttered, "but this one," she traced a finger down her neck, highlighting a raging red line that ran from her jaw to her chest, "and the one on my stomach are the same."
"And those still bleed?"
Emily simply nodded, keeping her head down after.
"Our theory is that the scars on your forearms were caused before the assailant transformed into his werewolf form, therefor making them normal wounds. The rest, however, are Dark Magic. There is a lot of stigma in regards to the werewolf, of course, but this state of being is considered a curse. Whatever harm they cause in their werewolf form is almost irreversible. The best we can hope for, without potions, is for them to reduce in color."
Mum glared at the Healer as she squeezed Emily's shoulder once more. I couldn't tell if Emily was the least bit upset with what the Healer was saying; her dark hair curtained over her face now.
"The scar on your stomach is the bite mark, correct?"
"That is correct," Mum answered for Emily. "It's in the file, is it not?"
Healer Valentino cleared his throat. "The mark has shown no signs of being infected, which is not something that is quite normal for other victims, Miss Taylor. You are lucky that you were not contaminated by the disease. Still, Healer Boot will like to continue monitoring—"
"Lucky?" Emily looked up now, her hair falling away from her distraught gaze so she can take a better look at the man sat across from us. "What makes me lucky? A werewolf was attracted to me, Healer Valentino, and not in the romantic aspect, but one of beast and his prey. He planned to have me for dinner."
"Research shows that some werewolves are tempted by cannibalism. It is not known exactly what triggers it, but there are some who think the smell we emit—You are lucky to be alive, Miss Taylor. It is rare when something stops a werewolf when it has found its target," he then said when Mum's death stare was about to start expelling fire.
"Can you call this living?" Emily murmured.
My heart broke at the very real pain Emily was caught in. It lived in every breath she gave. I wanted to fix it, just how everyone who loved her wanted to do so, too, but we did not know how. Truth be told, we did not know if we could at all.
Mum straightened out her back, her free hand balling into a fist. "What about the results for the exams she took last week?"
The atmosphere in the cold office was drenched in dread before, but something worse came out and spread over us when silence overtook Healer Valentino. It was hesitant—not like the frustration that he felt toward Mum, but there was something uneasy, afraid, and pitying about his facial expression now.
Still, he was a Healer. He had an obligation as a professional to say what he maybe could not process as a person.
"The exams Healer Boot performed on Miss Taylor did confirm signs of sexual abuse."
Just like that, all the air inside the office was gone. Somehow, we were still breathing.
I wanted to throw myself at her, but I found myself glued to my chair. It wasn't until the Healer said, "And, yes, she is pregnant" that I launched myself across to her.
She shook in my arms, letting out a cry so loud, so anguished, that I started to cry with her, too. "Get it out," she screamed. "Get it out! I don't want it!"
Healer Valentino closed her file. "That is not something I can sign off on, Miss Taylor. I am only filling in for Healer Boot. Your options for this pregnancy are with her."
"But there are options, aren't there?" Mum spoke up, her voice was just as careful as her touch on Emily had been. "She doesn't have to stay pregnant."
There was a flicker of outrage in the man's eyes. "Perhaps her options are best discussed with Healer Boot and her parents."
"I am her mother!" Mum yelled, standing up from her seat to tower over the Healer. "I have cared for her like she was my daughter since she was eleven!"
"You have children of your own, Mrs. Potter—"
"Do not give me that shite!" Mum cut across him. "I chose to be a mother, it was not forced upon me! She's sixteen and was raped—her body is hers and what she chooses to do with this pregnancy is up to her, not me, not you, nor anyone else. You understand me, Healer Valentino?"
Mum did not wait for him to say anything else. She turned to Emily and I; she knelt before the sobbing girl, putting her hands over her palms, trying to tug them away from her face so she could look at her; so she could see the unconditional love and support Mum had for her.
"Listen to me, sweetheart," Mum said, "I know you are in a lot of pain, I know everything seems so bleak right now, but you have the rest of your life ahead of you. Things will get better, I promise you, all you have to do is keep going. I'm not saying it will be easy, but it will be worth it. Whatever you decide to do, just know we are here for you every single step of the way. No matter what."
Emily held tightly onto Mum. "I can't," she cried, "I can't have this baby."
"Okay," Mum whispered, pulling her into her arms, "Okay, sweetheart."
I hugged them both.
I always knew Mum was the best mother to ever exist on this planet because she was mine, but to see it from outside her protection was something entirely new. I saw her unconditional love, her strength, and her vulnerability. There are things in this world a parent never wants their children to experience, and everything Emily has endured in her lifetime is on that list; to see Mum trying to jump these hurdles, to put aside her own sadness and anger for Emily's sake, is admirable.
I had not been blind to it before, but now I was reminded how far Ginny Potter would go for her children.
I don't know how long we stay embraced like that, or when that Healer Valentino twat had left the office, but we got up when Emily's cellphone buzzed.
"It's Nick," she said to us with a small sniffle. Mum and I both frowned at the name. "He wants me home in an hour."
Mum kept her mouth shut. I knew it was to keep any threat of violence against Emily's older brother from coming out.
"We'll Floo you there in five," I assured Emily. "but first we have to stop by the Burrow. Gran's made a soup she claims can heal—"
The rest of my sentence was cut off when I heard the thud of my head impacting against the nearest wall. "What the actual fu—?!"
"Language, Lily Luna Potter!" Splattered on the floor before me, papers scattered around her, was Dominique. She swatted me on the side of my head, making me hiss from the ache that had quickly formed. She laughed before hurriedly picking up the mess she made.
Mum helped me off the floor. "I thought you were at that concert with Vic and Ted, Dom?"
Dominique snorted. "Oh, come off it, Aunt Ginny. You should know by now that was an excuse to hide the fact that they rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron. When do I ever willingly hang out with Victoire?" she made a gagging sound. "As much as I know you want me to tell you how many times they have been lying to you, and for how long, Dad just spotted me back there and I really can't let him catch up with me. So, see you three later."
"Why are you hiding from Uncle Bill?" I demanded.
"Did you miss the fact that I was leaving and that it's none of your business?" She swatted me again and I made a move to smack her. With my fist.
Dominique looked ready for it, too, but then her facial features momentarily looked terrified at something behind me. I grinned. I knew Uncle Bill had to be right there.
"Why are you here, Dominique?" Uncle Bill asked with that deep, deep, scary voice of his. "Were you not supposed to be at a concert with your sister?"
Dominique opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. "You know, I left it. Wasn't feeling well. And as a responsible adult, I came to see a Healer."
"What's wrong with you?" I questioned.
She glared at me. A silent vow of murder later.
"What is wrong with you?" Uncle Bill echoed me.
"A cold," Dominique offered with a cough.
Uncle Bill frowned at her, reaching for the papers in her hands, but she put them behind her back.
"Stop it, Dad! It is illegal for anyone to look into medical files of others when not given permission by said—DAD!"
Uncle Bill had taken the papers out of Dominique's hands. She paled when he started to read them.
"Dominique..."
"I'm sorry, Dad," she squeaked, a sound of fear in her voice I had never, ever heard from her before. "I was reckless and stupid, I know. But I promise we will take care of this baby—"
"Baby?" Uncle Bill's voice got louder.
"Because I'm pregnant."
My jaw dropped. Emily tensed from her spot.
"You're pregnant?" Uncle Bill shouted, the color draining from his face, too.
Dominique furrowed her brows, taking the papers from her father. She scanned them then huffed at herself. "He read the bill statement. Bit pricey, I agree," she said, a smug look on her face that did not seem called for. "What's the point of health insurance, then? The Ministry will be hearing from me."
X
As it turns out, no matter the forgiveness that had been extended among certain individuals of certain families, no one willingly tolerated Draco Malfoy's mood swings. As we continued to be locked up in Grimmauld Place, his anger rose to frustration or rage. There was no in between. As such, the people who often came to visit to bring us some normalcy stopped showing up at all when my father's snide remarks were no longer dark humor, but warped truth. Mother had even kept her distance from him, often finding some forgotten room to help Mrs. Potter clean up to take up all her time.
Oddly enough, the only one who seemed to have enough patience to deal with Father was Hermione Weasley. When she showed up to escort her young relatives (never Rose, not since she had taken it upon herself to spend every one of her free moments with Emily or doing something for her), or brought business matters to discuss with Mr. Potter or her husband, she tended to linger behind as the others escaped Father's fury. Sometimes I could hear his shouts from the old office downstairs, something always along the lines of 'for fuck sakes, Granger!' or 'yes, this is exactly who I am! You've always known!'. Mrs. Weasley was composed most of their interactions, but sometimes I could hear her yelling, too, something always along the lines of 'don't you dare raise your voice at me, Draco!' or 'I am trying to keep you safe!'.
Once, Mother was sat across from me when their shouting could be heard from the two levels above where we were; she met my confused and annoyed expression with a smile, and proceeded to read a thick, dusty old book.
Father was not really an angry person (not from my experience), but I knew he had his temper. I had never seen it like this—rage mixed with hopelessness and restlessness. It was infuriating. Liam and I often tried to convince my parents to let us out, to allow us to visit Godrics Hallow, or Diagon Alley, anywhere that wasn't the old House of Black, but there was no winning them over. Not when Head Auror Potter insisted the Malfoys (and one Greengrass) stay hidden from the eyes of the public.
"Playing Exploding Snap without the exploding isn't actually fun," Liam grumbled as he sunk further into the old armchair. "It's just playing cards. Cards aren't fun."
I grunted an agreeing noise. "We can try Wizard's Chess again, then."
"And risk getting butchered by Uncle Draco if the chess pieces start to make too much noise?" Liam shook his head, laughing at my suggestion like it was the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of my mouth. "I rather take a nap than to face him right about now. He's in such a foul mood that even the portraits of this place have gone silent."
"Well, there is something legendary about a Black's rage," I told him. "And especially if it's mixed with a Malfoy's impatience."
"Charming people your ancestors," Liam said, shaking his head as he drew a wrong card and nothing happened. He frowned at the lack of excitement. "No wonder the entire Wizarding World loved you lot."
At his sarcasm, I laughed. "All right, what crawled about your wand-hole, mate? You're usually as cuddly as a Pygmy Puff."
Liam threw his deck of cards, sighing. "Something happened between Lily and I."
I rose a brow. "You broke up?"
He frowned at me.
"Okay," I chuckled, "then what happened?"
He looked down at his hands for a moment. "You know I trust you, right, Scor?"
"Not more than Harper—"
"I can't tell Nia this," Liam said immediately, his eyes flashing in panic for a brief second. "She would never hear me out completely, first of all. I'm sure she'd murder me just for the intent of trying to tell her."
"I'm intrigued," I said. "Continue."
"Before leaving Hogwarts for Easter holiday, Lily was in my dormitory. We were alone—we're usually alone, the other three lads I share with have been good with giving me space ever since Dad..." Liam cleared his throat, not wanting to say the words that ache in his chest. "Usually she lies with me, letting me talk when I need to, or she talks when I have nothing to say. But that night...there was some snogging. A lot of snogging actually. More than we have ever done. I kept my hands to myself, of course, but for a second I didn't think I'd be able to."
I cringed at the image. "Yeah," I mumbled, "never tell Harper this. She will rip out your tongue for painting that picture. Honestly, I wouldn't blame her. It's pretty gross."
"Cheers, Scor," Liam grumbled.
"What's the problem exactly?" I asked instead.
"That I'm not ready to go there with Lily."
"So? Are you embarrassed or something? Look, mate, don't let anyone try to convince you that because you're a bloke you have to be ready for sexual interactions no matter the circumstance. If you're not ready, you're not—"
"I'm about to be sixteen, Scor," Liam interrupted, rolling his brown eyes, "trust me, I am not afraid of my urges."
"Then?"
"Lily is about to be fifteen," he said loudly. "She's not ready, mate."
And that is the exact reason why I cringed at his little story. No one really saw Lily Potter as anything but a little girl. Still, she was his girlfriend. She was still a person.
I hated myself for saying, "You're quite the gent, Liam, I'll give you that, but do you think you get to decide whether or not she's ready?"
"Believe me," he said with another sigh, "I have thought of that, too, but I don't want to be the bloke who took advantage of her. I don't want to be the reason why she doesn't grow as an individual, you know?"
Respectable, really.
"Mr. Malfoy," with a crack!, Kreacher, the old and only house-elf in Grimmauld Place, appeared into the sitting room, "Mr. Greengrass, Miss Taylor is here. Shall I let her in?"
Kreacher barely got his last word in when I pushed past him, banging the double doors open. I barely saw Emily's green eyes look up at me when I picked her up in my arms, holding her so tightly, I felt her heartbeat against my chest.
It was her hesitance, the rigidness of her body that made me put her down.
"Sorry," I muttered, taking a few steps back to give her space.
She almost smiled at me before turning that expression to Liam.
"Hey, Em," Liam greeted with a careful smile of his own. "We weren't expecting you."
Not today, not yesterday, not any time soon, really.
Emily had kept herself locked inside her bedroom at her own will. This time, none of us pressured her to come out. We visited when we could, but it was only for a few minutes. Her brother hated us—which was fine, because we hated him, too.
Still, I missed her every minute.
"I needed to see my friends," she said delicately, in a voice so small I almost scooped her in my arms again. She turned her green eyes at me again, a sparkle in them I knew were unshed tears. "I needed to see my best friend."
I couldn't form a smile. Instead, I gestured to the armchair I had left open across the couch Liam was seated on.
"Did anything happened?" Liam asked. "You look uneasy."
"That's not new, is it?" Emily mumbled, an underline of despair in the words that made me grimace. She did not let an awkward silence form when she looked at us, saying, "I came from St. Mungo's. They gave me the results of the exams I had done last week."
Rage burned inside of me, waking up ever murderous cell in my body.
"You don't have to tell us what they found," Liam spoke as I seethed, as I thought of how easy it was to cast the Killing Curse when hate drowned me. "We believe you, Em."
"They found that I'm pregnant."
The impending explosion I felt inside me finally sounded out.
The walls of the old sitting room shook, rattling every piece of glass in picture frames, furniture, glasses, and candle holders. Some shattered.
"That's enough, Scorpius!" Liam yelled at me.
"I'll find him, Emily, I fucking swear I will, and I will—"
A force hit me, knocking me back down to my seat. I saw Liam with his wand out.
"What the hell is your problem?" I growled.
"What is yours?" Liam returned. "Look at her!"
Emily was gripping her knees, her nails sinking in, her cheeks red, and eyes dripping tsunami tides.
"I know you're angry," Liam continued, "we all are! But she isn't here for vows of revenge. She's here because she needs you! She needs her best friend because she's scared!"
Fuck. He was right.
I don't know how I managed to sedate the fury inside of me, but I did it. I left my side and approached hers, kneeling before her. I gently placed my hands over hers.
"You're not alone, Em, you hear me? We are going to get through this together."
"Scorpius is right, sweetheart—" I didn't hear them come up, but at the sound of my mother's voice, I briefly looked up to find her and Father standing by the doors. There was sadness in my mother's eyes, but Father's had lost their anger to be replaced with sympathy. A sympathy he blinked back and forth between Emily and I. "We will get through this together."
"You know?" Liam questioned.
"Ginny told us when she dropped Emily off," Mother said to her nephew.
"I feel so wrong," Emily murmured in broken whispers. "I always felt wrong, but now...Now I'm more than I have ever been. There's poison inside me and I want it out."
I looked up at my mother. "Is that something she can do?"
"She's underage," Mother said, "but it's possible with the consent of her guardian."
"You're a pureblood, aren't you, Emily?"
I turned to my father, outrage in my eyes. "Is that really something of importance right now?"
Father rolled his eyes at me. "It is, actually. She's carrying Greyback genes now."
"Father—" I warned as Emily shuddered and cried at the name.
"They're half-breeds, all of them, but Fenrir Greyback was accepted into pureblood circles because he was ruthless. It granted his pack and his descendants a standing with blood supremacists, even after Greyback was imprisoned."
Father left the door to where Emily and I were. There was a file in his hand I had not noticed before. He extended it to Emily, who looked at it with terror.
"They're just photographs of artifacts," Father said reassuringly. "I need you to tell me if you recognize any of them."
Hesitatingly, Emily opened the file as Father aimed a warning glare at me as I tried to peek at it. I knew what they were, of course. They were items that had once belonged to the great Salazar Slytherin and then the Dark Lord. They were cursed items that were currently being hunted down by the corrupted families still seeking blood supremacy and justice.
They were items that had been passed down the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but now were nowhere to be found.
The search for them is what got my Uncle Alec murdered. It's what threatens the non-corrupted families now.
Yeah, I gathered all of this while the adults thought they were being discreet.
"The first one," Emily said after a minute. "My dad had a replica of it. He used to say my mother's maiden family possessed the real one, but I don't know if that was true or not."
"Who are your mother's maiden family?"
"The Carrows," Emily said. "Horrible people. Except for Aunt Marlo. She's my mother's youngest sister. She cut ties with the family after Grandfather Carrow married her off to a Bulstrode and she ran off a year later. She was never the same after that."
"The Carrows are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Father said. "Therefore, you are, too, Emily. Even if you are American and with a different last name. You carry pure blood of your own, and now there is Greyback in you, too."
"Please, Mr. Malfoy," Emily begged, handing him his file.
"Does she have to go into hiding now, too?" I asked.
"Maybe," Father said with a grave tone. "Maybe not. She is the last of her bloodline. The Carrows no longer exist in Britain, and her brother is a Squib. It ends with her."
"Unless she has this baby," I finished what Father did not say.