Summary: Seven years after the Second Wizard War, a mother tells her daughter the story of the man she loves, who disappeared after the war ended to save his and his lover’s life. The Wizarding World has settled down again, peace returning to them after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Written in first person, present tense, from the point of view of a seven year old girl.
Categories: Draco/Ginny Characters: None
Warnings: Book 7 Disregarded
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 7
Completed: No
Word count: 11069
Read: 20416
Published: 01/08/06
Updated: 07/09/07
1. Do You Still Love Him, Mummy? by sesiliah
2. To Know Your Name by sesiliah
3. Never Forgot by sesiliah
4. I've Seen Those Eyes by sesiliah
5. A Mother's Love Life by sesiliah
6. A Long, Long Time Ago by sesiliah
7. The Past Comes Back by sesiliah
Do You Still Love Him, Mummy? by sesiliah
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are JK Rowling's. I do not own them, although the daughter is a made-up character. The story takes place seven years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort.
“Mommy, tell me another story.”
Mother looks down at me, her wide brown eyes dull from the exhaust of the day. Her fiery red hair is tied in a knot at the back of her head, yet some pieces in the front have fallen out and tumble into her eyes elegantly. Her hands holds mine and she strokes my palm with her thumb. It tickles a little, but I love it when she does it so I don’t complain. “I just told you one!” she says, protesting against my request. I nod sadly, and she can’t help but give in to me, “Alright, alright. Which one?”
It doesn’t take me long to pick the story I want to hear, “Your story.”
Mum tucks a piece of her hair that had gone astray behind her ear, looking down at me with a small smile. “You win “ one more story. Mine. Okay. But then, it’s bedtime, missy!” I nod. With her other hand, she plays with my hair, the colour matching hers, looks up at the ceiling, and begins to tell the story I’ve heard so many times.
“Seven years ago, a war was going on. Wizards who believed that wizarding learning should be permitted to only completely wizarding families, no Muggle-borns, or with a Muggle parent had a leader. This man “ no, by this time he was no longer a man “ called himself Voldemort.”
“Voldemort,” I say, “He was an evil man, who had gone to every extent to prevent himself from dying, because he believed that nothing in the world was worse than death.”
“That’s right,” Mum says, looking back at me, “What you must understand, darling, is that you didn’t know who you could trust. You didn’t know who was actually an enemy. You couldn’t believe that just because someone was Pureblood that they were on Voldemort’s side.”
“You weren’t, and you’re a Pureblood.”
“Perfect example. And, Voldemort himself was only Half-Blood. But not even that “ people you thought were your friends weren’t. You had to battle amongst people you didn’t necessarily like.”
“The war ended,” I say, “And at the time, you were dating an incredible boy.”
“Secretly dating, for four years. I wasn’t supposed to be dating him, so I was always sneaking out in the middle of the night. When the end came, we wanted to celebrate. He wanted me to have the best, most memorable night of my life.” She closes her eyes, smiling dreamily.
“He’s my daddy,” I say, beaming.
“Yes, he is… a very fanciable man, beautiful, with an angel’s smile. A real gentlemen. They don’t make them like him much. That night was the most memorable I’ve ever had. It was filled with rejoice and happiness, because we could finally be together openly, and kisses--”
“Tell me about his kisses,” I beg.
She smiles at me, sighing dreamily, “His kisses were filled with love and caring, strong, yet gentle. Soft and warm, just like his touch.” Mum’s hand it gone from my hair and touches her lips softly. “I can still feel them,” her voice is now barely a whisper, her eyes closed as if she’s trying to picture him right there. “I’ve never been so madly in love with someone in my life. It was heaven.”
“But heaven on earth can never actually exist, can it, Mum?”
She chuckles softly, “No, sweetheart. It can’t. The next morning, I woke up, and he was gone.”
“Were you mad at him?”
She pauses for a moment, and then shakes her head, looking down at me, “No, I wasn’t. Your grandma and your uncles were “ and still are “ members of the Order, and he was scared that they wouldn’t accept him as changed. It was in fear that he fled.”
“He wasn’t brave enough to stand up to them?”
Mum frowns at me, “Bravery comes in different forms, love… he didn’t want anything to happen to me. There’s no doubt that if someone knew I had ties with him, I would be a suspect. He had ties with Voldemort.”
“It wasn’t him, though, it was his family.”
“And him,” Mum says softly, “He was. But he kind of disappeared. The Death Eaters didn’t know where he was and neither did the Order. Only I did. It was a headline in the news “ ‘Son of Death Eater gone missing “ hasn’t been seen for four years.’ That was right around the time the war ended.”
“So he left you,” I say sadly.
“He did, but to protect me.”
“And a little while later, I was born!”
She smiles at me, giggling. “That’s right. You were born. And I named you after his mother, who--”
“Was killed by Voldemort, cause she tried to protect him.” I smile. “And that’s the end.”
“It is.” She kisses my forehead and stands up. “Goodnight, love.”
To me this has always just been a story, one of my bedtime favourites. I’ve always assumed it was fake, like a story made up, no matter how many times Mummy insists it happened. I hate the ending, though. It would be better if he heroically came back, sweeping the fair maiden off her feet. Of course, Mummy just laughs and says it’s never going to happen. I dream about a very handsome man one day knocking on the door, Mummy opening it and screaming in joy, flinging her arms around him. I imagine him coming up to me, smiling his angel’s smile, ruffling my hair, saying, “How’re you doing, kiddo?” I imagine him picking me up and twirling me around in a circle. I can imagine his grey eyes, the eyes I inherited. I look at Mum, tilting my head to the side. “Mummy?” I call after her.
“Yes?”
“Is he ever coming back?” I ask for the hundredth time.
“No.”
“Can I ever meet him?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Goodnight,” she turns off the light.
“Mummy?” This is a new question.
“Yes?” She is agitated now.
“Do you still love him?”
There is a pause. I hear crickets outside.
“Yes.”
“I knew that, Mum. Can you guess how?”
“How?”
“The way you talk about him.” I can’t see her, but I know she’s smiling. “G’night, Mum.”
“Goodnight, Narcissa.”
Author's Note: I might write more to this, because I have a few ideas. But, for now, this is a one-shot. Please review and let me know what you think!
To Know Your Name by sesiliah
Disclaimer: You know what belongs to me, what doesn't. Sequels are never as good as originals. This chapter clears a few things up that I'm sure has crossed someone's mind. As well, there was some confusion over the fact that Draco is Cissa’s father, but I thought that was pretty clear in the previous chapter.
I wake up early one Saturday morning. I decide to go surprise my mother in her room, because she always sleeps in on Saturday, with a breakfast. I make her some toast and pour her a bowl of cereal, because that's all I know what to make. I pour her a glass of orange juice. She always tells me how important it is to drink a lot of orange juice so you can stay nice and healthy.
I bring the tray of breakfast up to her room, pushing open the door with my foot and entering. But Mummy isn't sleeping, like I expect her to be. She's awake, and looks like she has been for a while. She is looking through newspaper clippings in a box. Her bright red hair is tied back in a loose braid, a hairstyle I’ve tried loads of times but it never seems to work.
"Mummy?"
She turns to me, and quickly puts the lid on the box. "Hello, Cissa,” she says. I don’t like it how her deep brown eyes are filled with sorrow… I wonder what’s wrong?
"I made you breakfast."
She puts the box under her bed and I eye it curiously. She motions me over. "This looks delicious," she says with a smile as I put the tray on her bed.
"What was in that box?"
"Noting, dear, nothing. I was just going through some old things."
I nod, and though not entirely convinced, I turn to leave the room. But as I get to the door, I turn around and look at her, frowning.
“Mummy?”
“Yes?”
“What was his name?”
She pauses, and I can’t help but notice her lips purse in slightly. “Who’s name?” she says. But I know she knows who I’m thinking of.
“My father’s.”
“I’ve told you that I can’t tell you that.”
I frown. I know she thinks I can’t keep it a secret, or that someone will slip it out of me. “It’s not fair,” I say, a whine in my voice.
“Don’t whine, Cissa, it’s not attractive,” she snaps, “I know it’s not fair. And I know it’s not easy. It’s not easy for me, either.”
“Everyone else gets to have two parents, and I only get one, and I don’t even get to know his name, or anything about him, and I want to know!” I complain miserably, folding my arms across my chest, the anger beginning to build up inside of me.
“I can’t tell you! We’ve had this discussion, don’t you remember? Would you like to put our lives and his in danger?”
“I want to know who my father is! You told your friends!” I’m even angrier now, so angry that I’m sure I’m flushed bright red.
She just presses her lips together.
“This is bloody ridiculous!” I yell, my eyes beginning to fill with tears.
“Narcissa Rose! Don’t let me hear a word like that out of your mouth again!”
“You don’t get it! You grew up in a huge family, and you knew all of them! You almost never take me to go see them, because you don’t want to let it slip who my daddy is, and I barely know any of my uncles, and I don’t even know my father, and--”
“Oh, Narcissa--”
“And I hate you!”
Those words sting at her “ I can see it in her eyes. She bites her lower lip and I turn out of her room, bolting down the hallway to my room and slamming my door. I hear her footsteps coming towards me. She knocks, and says, “Narcissa?” very quietly, so quiet that I almost don’t hear. She says more, though, “Cissa, please, don’t be mad. It’s just… you wouldn’t understand it “ it’s too complicated. Honey, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older. Okay? Narcissa?”
I don’t say anything. I bury my head into my pillow and cry.
***
A little while later, I’m still lying in my bed crying, but now I’m getting hungry. I’ve got what Mummy calls ‘pride’, though, so I don’t go get food. There is a knock on my door. I don’t answer. The door opens.
"Mummy's got to go out for a little while, okay, darling?"
I look up at Mummy as she comes to me. Her fiery hair is tied up neatly (I don’t like that neat bun as much as her braid. I make a mental note to tell her that later), she is wearing high-heels and a nice pair of robes, and has even put on a little bit of lipstick. I nod slightly, brushing away a tear off my face.
"Luna's going to come watch you,” she tells me.
I nod again. I like Luna, even though she's a little weird, and even though she says a lot of weird things.
I can see that Mummy feels bad, seeing me all upset, and I’m not so mad at her anymore. “Mummy? I don’t actually hate you.”
A faint smile takes her lips. “I know,” she says, and I giggle slightly.
Just then Luna popped in, her usual dazed-out expression on. She turns to me, a small, dreamy smile on her pale lips.
“Hello, Ginny.”
"I won't be long," Mummy tells Luna as Luna, her, and I walk out of my room and to the main sitting room. Luna smiles, sits on the couch and puts a stack of papers beside her.
"Don't you worry about time! I have lots I can do. And Narcissa Rose and I will have fun together. Won't we?"
I nod. I know that Luna is one of the only people who know my real name and my real father, because Mummy trusts her. Mummy told her, and one other person, because that person figured it out of her own. Hermione, Mummy's best friend and her sister-in-law, says that the moment she first saw me she recognized my eyes - my father's eyes. Mummy didn't tell her brothers or her parents, though, afraid that someone will suspect that she worked for Voldemort. So, to my relatives, I am "Rose", Mummy's daughter. Mummy doesn't tell them who my father is, although Uncle Ron and Harry Potter, the one who defeated Lord Voldemort, have tried numerous times to figure it out. My middle name is Rose, though, so I don't mind them calling me that. Besides, Mummy tells me that when she and Daddy spoke once, years and years ago, he said he liked the name Rose. She hasn’t forgotten that.
Mummy nods her head slowly, and then Apparates away. Luna turns to me. “I’m going to get started on this.”
“More Quibbler work?” I ask.
Luna is the editor for “The Quibbler”. She took over the company when her father was killed in the War, using the magazine to send secret messages out (the secret messages in the magazine are hard to find, but if you know what you’re looking for, you can find it. Mummy showed me one once and explained it to me) and, as always, reveal the truth. Of course, although this truth is really crazy stuff, Luna believes it’s true. Mummy tells me never to tell Luna that something doesn’t exist, because, if Luna thinks it’s true, it might well be.
“Yes, I’ve got lots of interesting stories to look over. This one talks about Findleminnies. Do you know what Findleminnies are?”
“No.”
“Findleminnies are in your water. You can’t see them, because they’re so microscopic, but…” as she talks on, I tune her out, getting a surge of excitement suddenly. Mummy was gone. I could go look in those boxes. I could go look in them and find out what’s inside and what Mummy was looking at. It’s probably nothing that important, but why wouldn’t she let me see? And even if she comes home early and sees me in the boxes, I know she won’t be mad, because we just had an argument, and Mummy hates it when we have arguments, so she won’t want to start another one. “…and so, if you know the spell, you can make sure there aren’t any in your water.”
“That’s very interesting,” I tell Luna, smiling slightly and turning to bolt up the stairs.
I hear her humming lightly as I turn down the hall and hurry over to Mummy’s room. As I open her door, my heart pounds fast. I walk over to her bed and look under. There is one box, which I pull out and put beside me on the bed. Mummy put it there freely, trusting me. This is betraying her trust, I think with a frown. But I won’t tell her. If she can keep secrets from me, I can keep secrets from her.
I, taking in a deep breath, open the box. On the top is a newspaper clipping:
“SON OF LUCIUS MALFOY MISSING
Draco Malfoy, 17, son of the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, went missing recently. There has been no sign of him since the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In that year, Harry Potter discovered that he was, indeed, a Death Eater, like his father…”
I furrow my brows curiously. Could he be it? This “ Draco Malfoy? There’s no picture on it. Mummy said that he had once been involved with Voldemort.
I pull out the next newspaper clipping.
“THE WAR OVER “ WHERE ARE THE MISSING DEATH EATERS?
The great defeat over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by Harry Potter has left us in slight worry. Although he is now gone, follows still roam…”
I skim further down the article.
“Draco Malfoy, 21.”
I put the article back, picking out another.
“SOME MISSING DEATH EATERS FOUND
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, both 24, have been found. Even though their leader perished three years ago, they remained, and Harry Potter, who went to school with them, found them and now they are in Azkaban Prison. There is still no sign of Draco Malfoy, who, according to Harry Potter is “the leader of the three of them, he always had been in school.” Harry Potter also tells us that he would like to see Draco Malfoy locked up…”
Another article reads:
“FATHER OF MISSING DEATH EATER KILLED
Lucius Malfoy was killed earlier this week by seven Aurors, although there still is no sign of his son, Draco Malfoy. How this death will affect the boy, we do not know. Perhaps he will turn up…”
And another:
“NARCISSA MALFOY, DEAD
Draco Malfoy, still missing, has now lost his mother, as well. These tragic events lead one to believe that Draco Malfoy himself may be dead, as well. We do not know the cause of her death. No one seems to know how she died…”
As I fish through the articles, I find that they are all very similar. But, at the bottom of the pile of clippings is a letter in a small, white envelope. There is no return address on it. On the front, it says, simply:
“Ginny Weasley.”
Author's Note: I hope the whole name thing makes sense. Feel free to ask questions, although I will clear any you have up in chapters to come.
Author's Notes:
Author’s Note:
*Gasp!* Why was Ginny in Knockturn Alley? Don't bother asking me, because I'm not telling. x.o
Okay, so Draco’s letter is pretty OOC, not going to lie, but as he states, he changed because of Ginny. I know, stereotypical, I know. Get over it. xP
Once again, if something is still confusing you, comment on it, and I’ll try to fix it, if not in this chapter, than in later ones. I know I didn’t say how much money Draco left. Originally, I had an amount down, but considering I don’t really know what’s considered a lot, what’s an absurd amount, etc, I figured to just make Cissa smart enough to know that he wouldn’t leave her with nothing, and if he was going to leave her with anything, it would be a lot.
You’re also probably wondering why Ginny cares how Draco’s mother died. This will be cleared up in later chapters.
Disclaimer: The characters you recognise belongs to the one and only JKR.
“To my dearest Ginny,
I am sorry I left with so little notice. I don’t think there is a way I could further express how much it pained me to leave, but it’s for your own safety. We cannot tell anyone we were ever together, because then they will suspect you. And, right now, anyone they suspect is considered guilty. Clearly the old phrase “innocent until proven guilty” has worn out. But, my darling, please don’t be upset. Please, don’t worry about me. Please, don’t be mad at me. And please, don’t come looking for me. This owl will not return to me, and any other owl will fail in trying to track me down. For your own safety “ since that is what I care most about “ move on, and help fix up the wizarding world now that the Dark Lord is gone. Be happy, and do not worry.
I would also like to tell you how these past four years have impacted on me. You have made me who I am, Ginny, and for that, I thank you. We hid our love, but it is there, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. You will always be in my heart, and I will always be thinking about you. Thank you for being who you are, and never change yourself.
Enclosed I have left the money I kept with me during times of the war “ my ‘just in case’. I hope that it will help you, since I know times will get more difficult. Please, keep it, and please, spend it, because I have little use for it, and the death of my father has left me with everything he has. I have left what he left me in the bank. I wish I could give it all to you, although it does looks suspicious to take out from it, and since it is his account, and he is dead, that would seem a little strange “ also considering I’m missing and presumed dead as well.
I also would like to let you know how my mother died. My mother cared for me “ she loved me, and was the only person I had ever felt love from before you. She did everything in her power to try to get the Dark Lord to not kill me for not doing my assigned task and that resulted in her death. She died trying to save me, Ginny, and I can’t let that happen to you. I know you want to help me, and I hereby forbid you. If it is ever safe again, I will contact you.
Please, never forget me, as I will never forget you.
I love you.”
No name is signed.
There is another, smaller envelope inside of it titled “Just in Case”. It is empty.
What is funny is how this letter matches the articles. I know, suddenly, who the letter is from. It must be from that Draco Malfoy. Was he my father? On one hand, I’m furious at him. How could he leave a ninteen-year-old pregnant woman, whom he loves, on her own like that? Although, he didn’t know she was pregnant, did he? He did give her some money, which is generous, I suppose (I can’t help but wonder how much money he gave her). Clearly the Malfoy family is very, very rich, if he can just give her a whole lot of money (Well, I’m assuming it’s a whole lot of money. It wouldn’t be very helpful if he just left her with two Sickles, now would it?). Or “ was. But my spirits lift slightly, because my father isn’t dead. And if he is dead, he didn’t die when all the articles said he did. I put the letter back in, close the box, smiling slightly, and go to put it under the bed when I spot a loose clipping from a newspaper on the floor. It must’ve fallen out of the box. It is a picture. A picture of a blonde-haired boy in his late-teens, with eyes that - I think with a small, affectionate smile “ look just like mine. The picture wasn’t taken when he was looking, it seemed, and although the boy is young and is good-looking, his pale, pointed face shows signs of worry, and there are bags under his eyes. Signs of exhaustion are on his face, and I can’t help but look at him and feel a pang of pity. The moving wizard picture is of him looking around in worry. The picture looked crumbled, and the magic in the picture is fading slightly, as if it was held and admired many times. There are even a few tear stains, which, I assume from who the box belongs to, are my mother’s.
I put the picture into the box, and tuck it away under the bed. I feel as if I can breathe again.
I know my father’s name.
His name was Draco Malfoy.
His father “ my grandfather - was killed by Aurors. His mother was killed because she tried to save him. My grandmother gave her life to save her son, who is my father. He has inherited a lot of money. He loves my mother, and it pained him to leave her.
The man who I had always imagined would come back, a knight in shining armour, a hero, I notice now won’t come back at all. His letter clearly states that. I remember that when Mummy tells me her story, I always make a comment that he is a coward. And I can see Mummy doesn’t like it when I say that, since she feels he is braver than she by leaving. She told me once that if she was truly brave, she would go find her. Yet she fears for her and his life and doesn’t. So I told her, “But you’re never afraid of nothing.”
“Of anything, Narcissa,” she had corrected me with a small smile on her face, “And I am very frightened. I am frightened someone will find him, and kill him. I am frightened someone will try to hurt you. Because I love you, and if anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.”
I need him to come back. I need him to make Mummy happy. She deserves to be happy more than anyone I know. But he won’t come back, whether he is brave or not. So…
The only way for me to ever meet my father is “ to go find him myself. I have no clues of where he is. The only sign I have of him even existing anymore is this letter. And there isn’t even proof that it is him. It doesn’t have a name.
I let out a sigh of resignation, and come down the stairs to sit beside Luna as she edits pages for her magazine.
“Luna, where did my mother go?”
“She went to go meet with some people.”
“Where?”
“Knockturn Alley.”
“What?” I cry, unable to believe it. A good, respectable woman like Mummy would never be seen in such a place.
“There’s just a few people she needs to see,” Luna says, turning to me. Her wide, pale eyes stare at me for a moment, before she says, “Why were you going through your mother’s stuff?” And she turns back to her papers.
“I, well, I “ wait, how did you know?” I say, stunned.
“Do not go looking for your father, Narcissa Rose. It is better if he is left unfound. For your and your mother’s safety.”
“You went to school with him, too, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like him?”
“We never spoke. But, I do remember that he always had an aura around him that made me think he was infested with Pheeops. Pheeops are not good to have around you, you know.”
“I know,” I say, even though I don’t know. She meets my eyes for a second and smile slightly, before turning back to her work.
“Harry and Ronald never liked him much, so I just assumed he was a rotten boy,” she added.
“But he changed. He must’ve changed, if he fell in love with Mummy. He changed for her, the letter said so, he--” I cover my mouth. No wonder Mummy didn’t want me to know my father’s name! Apparently I can’t keep my mouth closed.
“I know about the letter. He might’ve changed. I wonder if he’s still infested with Pheeops, though. Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, “But don’t you worry about it. And don’t keep it from your mother than you know, because she’ll find out.”
Just that second Mummy Apparated in. I look at her. “Why were you in Knockturn Alley?”
She raises an eyebrow, looking at Luna, who is back at her papers. She looks back at me, and a small grin creeps onto her face. “Why were you looking in my box?”
“I know who my father is.”
She lets out a sigh, “I knew this day would come.” Examining me for a second, she nods, “Okay. But you can’t tell anyone, that is very important. For your own safety--”
“And yours, and his,” I say with a small nod, “I get it. I’ll stay quiet.”
Luna smiles faintly, “She’s so mature for a seven-year-old. Perhaps she has a case of--”
“She doesn’t have a case of anything,” says Mummy, looking at me with a laugh. I giggle, too. She reaches into her pocket. “How much do you want, Luna?”
“Oh, I don’t want anything. I’ve gotten plenty more work done here than I ever do in my house.”
“Why is that?” I ask curiously.
“Because my attic is infested with Zyttos. They’re nasty little buggers who make an awful lot of racket. In fact, I might just stay here. Would you mind?”
Mummy smiles at Luna, shaking her head, and then turns back to me, “Cissa, dear, I know you have a lot of questions… and I do want to answer them, but I think we’ve learned enough for today. Don’t you?” I nod. “Good. So, let’s go visit the Ministry of Magic.”
I've Seen Those Eyes by sesiliah
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: What you recognize belongs to Miss J.K. Rowling, I am merely borrowing it for mine and my reader’s pleasure.
Author’s Note: Ron and Harry were talking about Snape when they talked about who killed Dumbledore, for the record, at the end. Everyone assumes that Draco is dead. Will Snape come back? Mayybe… x.o
I grip Mummy’s arm tightly as I Side-Apparate with her to the Ministry. The moment we arrive there everyone greets her and me warmly.
“Hello, Ginny! How’re you doing, Rose?”
“Blimey, Rose, you’re getting big!”
“Ginny! It’s been too long. We should do lunch. Hi, Rose! Oh, Ginny, she’s so beautiful.”
I blush slightly, staring at the ground, as Mummy weaves through the crowds and heads directly to one place. The Auror offices. I know we’re going to go there before Mummy even heads in that direction, because that’s the only place we ever go to. Since Mummy has a brother and a good friend who work there, it’s the only place we ever go to when we’re at the Ministry.
“Ginny!” exclaims a girl as we arrive at an office. The office door has a sign that says “Ronald Weasley, Auror.”
She flings her arms around Mummy, her wild brown curls flying everywhere. As she takes a step back, she smiles fondly at Mummy and then looks down at me, “Hello, Rose.” She bends down to be at my height. I take Mummy’s hand, moving a little bit behind her, trying to remember who this woman is.
“Rosie, you know Hermione, don’t you?”
I look at Hermione. She smiles slightly, her large, brown eyes containing a hint of friendliness that I can’t help but admire. I glance down at her left hand and see a golden ring on her ring finger. Uncle Ron’s wife. Yes, Mummy, I remember, I think to myself, but I don’t say anything.
Speaking of my uncle, he comes out of his office and greets me with a wide smile. Hermione stands up and moves aside, letting him greet Mummy and me. He gives Mummy and hug and lifts his hand for a high-five, “How’re you doing, Rose?”
I just glance at his hand as if he’s crazy, giving him a ‘what I supposed to do with that?’ look.
He laughs lightly, turning around and calling, “Oi! Harry! Ginny’s here!”
In a second, a group of people, most of which with bright red hair, walk over. My grandmother, Molly Weasley, a short, plump woman, who although shows signs of being old enough to have a son as old as my uncle has not lost a spark of colour in her fiery red locks. My grandfather, Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, is balding. My uncles Fred and George come over and grin at me. They work at a joke shop, I know, making some of the best and coolest things I’ve ever seen. Every year on my birthday, they send me their newest invention. Mummy’s not always so happy with that.
They all greet me with hugs and kisses and although I’m happy to see them, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. I don’t see them very often. One person “ the only one without red hair “ smiles at me as he approaches me and Mummy for his hello. His black, untidy hair and bright green eyes, round glasses and lightning-bolt scar are features I’ve seen so many times in the newspaper that I’ve lost count. He greets Mummy with a hug and his waves at me with a friendly smile, trying to, I know, determine again who my father is. I know because he does every time I see him. I even know what he’s going to say next:
“I know I’ve seen those eyes before.”
Sure enough, he does, and as he lifts his head to talk to Mummy, I slip away, hearing only one of the twins saying, “Come on, Gin, who’s her father?” and Mummy’s exhausted, “When the time is right, I’ll tell you,” before I’m far away from them.
I admire the fake scenic window, before almost crashing into a wall. I gasp as I back up, looking at it. There is a picture and description of every “Wanted” wizard who’s ever existed. The ones who are in Azkaban or killed had the word “FOUND” stamped across their faces. Then there are the few ones who have just plain pictures and a description beside them who are still, as the sign on the top of the wall says, “WANTED”.
I look at them all in awe, spotting a few familiar names:
“Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort” “FOUND”
“Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Narcissa Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Gregory Goyle, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Vincent Crabbe, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, Death Eater” “FOUND”
Along with some other familiar names from the articles I had read earlier that day. I suddenly realise that my father must be up here, too. My eyes skim the ones that haven’t been found yet, stopping as I spotted the familiar picture, the same one I found in Mummy’s room, yet a lot clearer and in better condition. Beside his picture is his criminal record.
“Draco Malfoy, born June 5, 1980.
Wanted for assistance in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in June of 1997, for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the same day, and for…”
And that’s the way the list goes on. Most of them are “attempted” or “assistance”, or “claimed to have”. Which makes me believe even more that he’s not all that bad, because he never actually did any of that stuff “ well, maybe. But one sentence makes me wonder…
“Wanted for assisting in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore.”
Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, I know because he’s a Chocolate Frog card and Mummy always tells me about him. She always gets very teary-eyed when she talks about how he was viciously murdered by a man who once taught her Potions in school, someone who Dumbledore truly trusted. She never said anything about a Draco Malfoy. Of course, she’d probably not want to mention my father at all, seeing as she didn’t want me to know he existed.
“There you are, Rose!” exclaims Grandmother, running over to me. “Why are you looking at these? Oh, you needn’t worry, dear. Our Aurors will find them.” She takes me hand and pulls me back to the group. I take one last look at Draco Malfoy’s worried, pale expression before I’m back with my family.
“Mummy,” I ask when I come back, “Who was the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?”
“I told you this already,” Mummy mutters, avoiding my eye.
“Yes, but I want to see if he’s on the wall--”
“We haven’t found him yet,” says Harry Potter regrettably.
“But when we do…” says Uncle Ron a little scarily, and as I give him a frightened look Hermione snaps, “Ronald!”
“Oh.” There is a pause, “Shouldn’t we be worried? I mean, you said that Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time--”
“That’s enough,” snaps Mummy, though her voice is kind of shaky, taking my hand. “I’ll see you all later,” She nods to her family. “Come, Rose.”
And with that, she Apparates away, me tight beside her, getting a last look at the wall in the distance before we’re back home.
A Mother's Love Life by sesiliah
Author's Notes:
**To be read after chapter.
I got a bit carried away. ^^ Yeah, so this guy isn’t very clever, giving hints to the whereabouts of a Wanted Death Eater to a seven year old girl. But don’t you worry, we’ll hear more about him later on.
Also, how many of you are laughing at the fact the store she just happened to walk into was the right one? (*everyone’s hands raise*) Yeah, I know. xD Don’t roll your eyes at me, this needed to happen.
It’s a lot later when Pigwidgeon, Uncle Ron’s owl, flies into the kitchen in the middle of supper. Mummy and I are eating, though rather quietly. There is something on Mummy’s mind, but I decide that if I don’t say anything, maybe she will tell me on her own. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too, on how I could possibly find my father. I haven’t gotten any good ideas.
Mummy looks over at the owl and takes the letter from its sharp beak. It flies off.
“I guess Ron’s not expecting an answer,” Mummy mumbles to herself as she peels open the letter. There is complete silence as she reads through it, me sitting on the edge of my chair in anxiety. Finally she gasps slightly, “I completely forgot.”
“Forgot what, Mummy?”
She just smiles at me lightly, “It’s Harry’s birthday soon. They’re throwing him a surprise party at Ron’s house. Though I suppose he’ll know about it, it’s the sixth one they’ve thrown for him.”
“Do I get to come?” I ask. I know I’m lucky to be so close to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, who defeated Lord Voldemort. A lot of people we see in stores ask Mummy how Harry is, and if everything is alright with him. I know it’s an honour that we’re invited to his birthday party, and that Mummy’s brother and sister-in-law are his very, very, very bestest friends.
“Yes, you get to come. Go try on your dress robes “ we might need to buy you new ones. We’ll need to go to Diagon Alley anyhow to buy Harry a present.”
Sure enough my dress robes are too small so the next day Mummy and I are going to Diagon Alley. We go straight to “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.” Mummy and Madam Malkin dress me in a pair of olive green dress robes, and as Madam Malkin fits the dress on me, Mummy is talking with her.
“If you could make them a little loose, because Rose is growing like there’s no tomorrow,” Mummy says.
“Perfectly capable of doing that, Miss Weasley,” says Madam Malkin, loosening a section of the robes, “So what’s the occasion?”
“A surprise party,” Mummy tells her.
“Harry’s again?”
“Yes.”
“Do they honestly think that for the sixth year in a row he won’t have some clue?” asks Madam Malkin with a light chuckle, “You’re family is certainly one of a kind.”
“I think he pretended to be surprised last year.”
“Ginny, I think he pretended to be surprised the second time they did and ever since then,” says the woman with a small chuckle. “Well, if it makes them happy.”
“They just want him to see how important he is to them, and how much they care about him,” Mummy defends, but she laughs lightly, too.
“Speaking of caring for people,” says Madam Malkin, eyeing Mummy suggestively, “How is your situation with him?”
I furrow my brows, turning my head to Mummy, “What situation?” I ask.
“Hush, Rose,” Mummy says.
“Oh, you should feel lucky that he fancies you, Miss Weasley. Every woman who knows about You-Know-Who would love to be in your shoes.”
Fancies her? Personally, I don't like boys. They're gross. But Mommy does deserve the bestest boy around, doesn't she? And who better than the Chosen One himself?
“You shouldn’t be afraid of calling him Voldemort, Madam Malkin,” says Mummy, adverting her glance to play with a fabric nearby.
But Madam Malkin just grins slightly, “Old habits die hard.”
There’s a look in Mummy’s eye that makes me think she doesn’t really care what Madam Malkin calls Voldemort. I think she’s still stuck on the whole Harry fancying her thing. Of course, I’d be surprised, too, if someone told me the hero of the Wizarding World fancied me. But I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her. In fact, I thing she already knows he fancies her.
After a little while, Mummy pays for the robes and is carrying a box with them outside the store. We are going to go find a present for Harry now. Mummy has no idea what to get him, so she says that we’re going to go to as many stores as we can to find the perfect gift. Our first stop is Flourish and Blott’s.
As we walk in, we’re greeted by an old school friend of Mummy’s, who insists on talking to her for what feels like an hour. She, too, brings up the topic of Harry.
“His birthday is soon,” she says.
“I know. Rose and I are looking for a gift.”
“Oh,” she looks down at me. “And who is the girl’s father, again? Can’t be a very decent man, leaving you and a baby all alone.” I quickly look away, down at the ground.
“He was a very decent man,” Mummy defends, taking my hand. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Very well, goodbye.”
Mummy mutters something about “rude people, sticking their noses into my business” as we go to wander around.
“Mummy, I’m going to go look at books over there,” I say, pointing to a colourful display by the window.
She nods, not looking at me, and I hurry over to the display. I don’t even register what book it is, because I see a sign in the distance that, quite frankly, is more exciting than any book.
“Knockturn Alley.”
Now, I’ve been very, very good about not butting into Mummy’s business. I haven’t asked anything about Daddy, or the box, and even though I’m still confused and I want to do what I’m told, I can’t help but wonder if my answers lay somewhere down there. So when I’m sure Mummy’s looking away, I sneak out the door, put my hood over my head to shield my hair and face, and slink down to Knockturn Alley.
It’s quite a dodgy place. I don’t like it one bit. And there are a whole bunch of stores, and I don’t know which one Mummy went to that time Luna watched over me. I look around, and decide that one store “ the sign said “Borgin and Burke’s” “ was the biggest. I take a chance and guess that she went here, and I open the door.
The store is pretty much empty except for a lot of weird looking stuff that I’m certain Mummy wouldn’t want me playing with. I walk over to the desk, and poke my head up over the top to see if anything is there. Nothing. I call out, “Excuse me? Anyone here?”
An old, rugged looking man stumbles out, glancing curiously at me. I pull my hood tighter around my head. He is scary, with a wrinkled, scarred face and a balding head. Suddenly I realise... what exactly am I going to ask him? I come into this place right out of my scary books and don't even know what to say.
“Can I help you, lil’ missy?”
“Er, I was just wondering… um, did Ginevra Weasley come in here at all?”
He narrows his eyes at me, examining me closer. “And how old’re you?”
“I’m “ uh, twenty-four.”
He snorts. “Hah, right. Yeah, s’matter of fact, she did. A while back. What’s it to you?”
“I “ uh “ what did she come for?”
“You’re her daughter, right? Whatserface… Rose.” He chuckles. “Rose, right?”
“How did you know?”
“There’s a lot of stuff I know about you. I know things about you that you don't even know.” What’s that supposed to mean? I frown. He smiles fondly. “Your father’s a good man.”
“You knew my father?”
“I know your father, Rose. Yeh know he’s alive.” Pause. “Yeh’ve got his eyes.”
“Mister, who are you?”
“S’nothing to you, lil’ missy. Now, why’re you down here?”
“I told you, I want to know why my mother was here,” I say impatiently. I know Mummy wouldn’t want me to swear, but I want to call him stupid. Cause he is!! And scary.... well, at least he’s not mean. That mean.
“Why are you nosing into your mother’s business?” he asks with a raise of his bushy, grey eyebrow.
“I “ I want to know. She doesn’t tell me anything.”
“I admire that. Yeh’ve got a fair deal of perseverance. You know what that is?” I shake my head. “How old are you again?”
“Seven.”
“Alright, I’ll let you in on a few secrets. But dontchya go wandering around the likes of here again, do yah hear?” I nod, and he motions me to come closer. “Your mother is trailing your father. He don’t know, so if you find him first, you should warn him. Your mother’s a clever lady.”
“Warn him?”
“Just so’s he knows it’s coming.”
“Why will I find him first?”
“You’re also pretty clever,” he says with a grin, “I kin tell. Trust me, by the time yeh find him he’ll know yer looking for him.” His voice becomes quieter. “And I know cause I’ll give yeh a few hints as to his wherabouts, that yer Mamma don’t know, but you got to promise to keep it a secret.” I nod eagerly. “Alrighty. First off, he’s closer than yeh’d think. Second, his old girlfriend. Third, Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card.”
I ponder these three clues for a second, and am left totally baffled. I look up quizzically at him.
“Don’t give me that look. Figure it out yourself.” He seems to be enjoying my confusion.
“Well, thanks, Mister. I guess.” I turn to walk away. But something is bothering me. I turn around. “Mister?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you tell me that?”
“I want your father out of hiding almost as much as you do,” he says with a smile, which turns into a laugh. Slight scared, I hurry out of the store and run back the way I came, the Mister’s amused laughter ringing in my ears.
A Long, Long Time Ago by sesiliah
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is JK Rowling’s. I am merely borrowing it for my own pleasure.
Also, the tense change in this chapter is done purposely.
Author’s Note for After the Chaper: I’m sorry that crazy tense change was… well, crazy and weird. But I just thought that since it’s in the past, it has to be past tense. I made it so you’re seeing the scene as well, seeing Narcissa see it. If that makes any sense. Well, review and let me know what you think!
Hermione is so super. xP
“Where have you been?” Mummy asks frantically as I slink back into the bookstore.
“Just walking around.”
“Never leave my sight again! You just took twenty years off of my life!”
I don't really know what that's supposed to mean, so I just give her an apologetic look and she sighs, shaking her head. I take her hand and don’t leave her side the rest of the trip.
“Hello Rose! Boy, don’t you look pretty!”
“What an adorable dress, Rose!”
“Rose, you’re growing up so fast!”
I just smile in response to each person who pulls me aside to tell me how lovely I am, or how big I’m getting. It’s quite annoying, actually. Mummy and I have just arrived at Ron and Hermione’s house for Harry’s surprise party. Hermione is standing near the door, trying to keep everything neat and everyone quiet. Uncle Ron is out with Harry. Old friends of Harry’s and the Weasley family are mostly the only people here, and I don't recognize anyone, it's awful.
Someone looks out the window and calls, “They’re coming, see? There, in the distance!”
Mummy and Hermione shuffle everyone into their hiding positions. I manage to sneak away, up the stairs of the house and out of the main entrance area. It is a warm enough day as it is, and all the older people crowding around me makes it hard to breath. But upstairs it is cooler and less crowded and I like it better.
Downstairs I hear the door open and people calling out, “Surprise!” And Harry only pretends to be surprised, but I bet he fooled everyone.
I decide I don't want to be in the party and I'm going to play hide and seek with myself. I decide to pick a room to hide in. I find one, but the door is locked. I find another room, and it is just a plain bedroom, but the door is wide open and can see downstairs so people will see me and that's no good, so I find another room. The door is closed, so I guess that no one plans to come here and it’s way out of view from the stairs. I push open the door and come in.
At first I think it’s almost empty except for some boxes and old school things lying about. And then I see a big, stone Pensieve in the middle of the room. It’s so pretty and unlike anything I’ve seen before. Well, yes, I’ve seen a Pensieve before, in the books I read (well, look at pictures of, and Mummy reads to me… sometimes I read, sometimes it is too hard for me!), but never a real one. I guess Mummy has one somewhere, but I’ve never seen it, so this is something completely new to me, and I walk over, almost hypnotized. Who does it belong to? I wonder...
Well, I can’t help it that I get curious real easy! I hop onto my tip-toes, poke my head over the side, and lean in, and the world around me spins, and all of a sudden I’m not in Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione’s house anymore… uh oh!
It’s my house! But the old wallpaper is still up, and a lot of our stuff isn’t there. Grandpa and Grandma Weasley with lots more hair than they have now are there, and my uncles Fred, George, and Ron, and Hermione are, too. They are all standing around Mummy holding a baby in her arms “ me!
Enter the Pensieve…
“Ginny, I cannot believe you! Going around having “ doing “ and you won’t even tell us who!” said Ron, his face flushed with anger.
“I can’t tell you who,” said Ginny with agitation.
“Sure you can, Gin. We won’t hold it against you,” Harry said, trying to convince her. Ginny looked away, moving her glance down to the baby in her arms.
“Ginevra Weasley, you will tell me at once who the father of your baby is,” said Mr. Weasley in a tone very unlike Mr. Weasley “ very demanding, cruel, and it caused his daughter to look at him as if she’d never met him before.
“She can’t,” said Fred, apparently amused by all this.
“It’s a secret,” added George, just as amused.
“Just like the boys were at school--”
“Dean Thomas, for example--”
“Oh, shut up, you two. Will you ever grow up?” snapped Hermione. (If one was listening very closely, they might have heard the twins mutter, “Nope.”) She turned to the rest of the family, letting out a deep sigh, “I want to know just as much as you do. But if Ginny’s not telling us, it’s for a reason.”
They all turned expectantly to Ginny.
“Is he a follower of You-Know-Who?” asked Mrs. Weasley in a harsh voice.
“No!” said Ginny, shaking her head, refusing to meet any of their eyes. “He’s completely good, I know it! He’s just “ well, kind of in some trouble right now. Look, when the time is right, you’ll know who he is. I promise.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Well,” said Ron, breaking the awkward silence, “What’s her name? She’s so adorable.”
“Her name is--” Ginny froze, and the entire room looked expectantly at her. She turned the silence into a cough, “Oh, excuse me. Rose. Her name is Rose.”
“Rose,” awed Ron. He eyed the baby, “I like her eyes “ I know I’ve seen them somewhere…”
Ginny smiled slightly. Ron took the baby, admiring his niece with a small smile on his face.
“Are they her father’s eyes?”
Ginny’s gaze softened considerably, looking down lovingly at her baby.
“Wow, Gin. You really loved him, then?”
Ginny just took the baby from Ron’s arms, pulling young Rose into a tight embrace.
Mrs. Weasley suddenly let out a sob, “Oh, and he’s probably a Death Eater, I just wish I could know who-”
“He’s not a Death Eater!” Ginny said automatically in defense.
“Then why can’t we know who he is?” begged Ron, and the yelling began. The whole room began protesting. The twins were laughing rather obnoxiously, imitating each family, replicating the entire fight as it went on. Ron was begging Ginny for a name, who was ignoring him completely. Mr. Weasley was trying to calm down Mrs. Weasley, who was hyperventilating, and Hermione was yelling at Ron that it was none of his business. Suddenly Mrs. Weasley ran out of the room, followed by Mr. Weasley, but no one seemed to notice, in their own frenzies.
“Quiet!” yelled Hermione.
Silence.
“Mrs. Weasley just ran out of the room,” Hermione added quietly, pointing to the door.
“We better go make sure she’s alright,” said the twins, following the way their parents had just gone.
Hermione glared at Ron.
Ron said, “I should go with them.”
Ron exited as well, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone. Ginny walked away, to the couch, sitting down, looking down at her baby lovingly.
Hermione followed her. “Oh, Ginny “ it’s really their business, too, they just want to know…”
Ginny didn’t answer.
Hermione sat down close to Ginny, taking the younger girl in her arms, and speaking in a tone so quiet that only their viewer -- the seven-year-old Cissa -- and Ginny could hear. She spoke in a very soft, comforting tone, and then it changed. It was almost bitter, as if it pained her to admit what she was about to say, “It’s Malfoy?” Though, it seemed as if it was more a statement than a question.
Not even asking how Hermione knew, Ginny suddenly let out a sob, burying her head in Hermione’s shoulders.
“Have you tried to find him?” she added, quietly, the bitter tone replaced with a soft, caring, and maternal whisper.
“That’s what I spend all my time doing. But he told me not to look for him, in a “ a letter,” Ginny managed to choke, recollecting herself.
“I’m sure he’s safe,” Hermione said soothingly. There was a pause, and then Hermione whispered, looking at Ginny as if she couldn’t believe the younger girl, “You know he let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts in my sixth year, right? And that he almost killed Dumbledore--”
“Yes, but he didn’t mean it!”
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
“He was trying to please his father, but he realized that night that he didn’t want to be like his father at all. And we “ we started talking, you should have seen him after he got away from the Death Eaters and one thing led to another, and, well.”
“Wait, after he got away from the Death Eaters?”
“They were rather angry at him for failing--”
“You’ve been hiding a secret relationship with Draco Malfoy for four years?” asked Hermione in a hissed, shocked voice.
“Well “ yes, kind of… He’s not evil, not at all. He didn’t do or help in half the things he’s accused of. Someone has it in for him. I mean, at least… well, one of the things they accused him of isn’t true. At least! I know because the time in question he was with me. And the other times, he was probably with me too, I mean, the Prophet never writes the time of day these things happen in, if they did, I could tell you for sure, but he probably was with me!” Ginny said, biting her lip and looking away.
“Slow down, Gin, it’s hard to follow you,” said Hermione with an amused grin, but at Ginny’s distraught expression, the grin faded. “But “ why did they think it was him, then?”
“Someone’s out to get him, I suppose. Whatever they did, this person must be accusing him. It’s an easy way out, isn’t it? Draco Malfoy, the unknown, missing, conveniently disappeared Death Eater must’ve done it.”
“And you’ve looked everywhere.”
Ginny sighed, “Everywhere. I talk to the man at Borgin and Burke’s all the time “ he seems to know something, but he won’t tell me.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but have you tried Pansy?”
“Parkinson? Why?”
“She’s his old girlfriend. She was never a Death Eater “ that we know of, you have no clue how hard we’re trying to prove that she’s not on our side “ but, you never know. She was so fond of him.”
“Well “ no, I haven’t. But I will,” the redhead bit her lip thoughtfully, before turning a soft smile to Hermione, “Thank you, Hermione.” Ginny let a weak smile cross her features. The two girls hugged, young Narcissa in the middle, the baby’s big blue eyes looking up blankly, and then stood.
“We’ll find him. And if we don’t, maybe it was for the better. After all, you realize that if he comes out of hiding, he’ll be put in Azkaban, and you’ll be suspected of working for Voldemort, right?”
“I know,” Ginny said quietly. “But I believe we can change their opinion. When he was there “ that day with the Death Eaters “ he told me that he almost put down his wand. He almost turned good, right there. If the Death Eaters had come in one minute later he would’ve helped Dumbledore. He has that influence on people, Dumbledore does,” she chuckled lightly, and then added, defensively, “Harry was there with him, he saw the whole thing “ he can back me up.”
“Harry doesn’t want you and him to get together, Ginny,” said Hermione with a light, nervous laugh, “But I suppose, as a friend, he would do you that favor. And for little Rose.”
“Oh “ Rose is only her middle name,” admitted Ginny. “I named her Narcissa, after his mother…” Hermione’s laugh fades slightly as another voice in my ear, very different from the film-like one in the scene I’m watching, replaces what’s going on around me.
“You know, Narcissa, this is becoming a terrible habit.”
The Past Comes Back by sesiliah
Author's Notes:
Nothing that you recognize is mine, you know how it is! :3 Enjoy the chapter!
I swing my head around, meeting the normally warm, but this time (pathetically, not the first time... I'm an awful daughter, I think to myself) disappointed eyes of my mother. “Come with me,” she says, taking my arm and pulling us out of the memory. I get a final glance at Mummy holding baby me and laughing mutely at something Hermione said with tears on her face, before I’m back in the present.
Mummy’s hand is tight on my wrist. She pulls me down the stairs, muttering something along the lines of, “What am I going to do with you?” Until we’re finally with everyone else. We mingle right back into the crowds as if we were never gone.
Mummy’s hand comes loose and I slip away. She eyes me, and I give her an innocent smile and hurry over to sit by the window. Pulling a chair close to it, I prop my elbow up on the windowsill, resting my head in my hand, looking out at the street.
But “ wait “ what’s this?
There are two women talking shrilly to each other. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but one of them is Hermione, and the other is someone I don’t recognize. I glance behind me. Mummy is not looking at me anymore. I leave my seat, biting my lip, before reaching for the door. As I do, Hermione walks back in. I jump back a few feet, and she turns to me, forcing on a bright smile and saying, “Hello, Rose.”
As she walks away, I hurry outside, trying to get a better look at the other woman. As I slink closer towards her, she hears me behind her, and flings around, eying me. “What?”
“I “ er”who are you?”
She is certainly not the prettiest of women, with a pug-like face and hair cut below her ears. Her hair is a dark, almost black color, with thick bangs. I don't recognize her, and she's not very pleasant looking, and I immediately wish I was back inside, under the watchful eyes of many nice adults. She narrows her eyes at me, taking a few steps closer, and stops suddenly, recognizing me. “You’re Rose.”
“Yeah. And who are you?”
A small, faint, almost smile took her face. She stepped forward, looking down at me, “You have his eyes.”
I blink at her, waiting for a moment before saying, “Did you know him?”
“Yes,” she whispers, looking at me in a kind of awe. She says the next sentence a little bitterly, “We were together long before your mother even looked at him like that.” I glance down at my party shoes.
…His old girlfriend.
I shoot my glance back up to her, eyes widening, “The man”at that store”he said--”
“Branxton,” whispers the woman.
"Have you tried Pansy?"
“Parkinson? Why?”
“She’s his old girlfriend."
I tilt my head to the side. “Are you Pansy?” I ask.
She nods her head slowly.
“You know where my father is!” I exclaim.
A look of horror crosses her face. I can’t decide whether she seems shocked to hear such an accusation or is scared that someone else knows. “No, I don’t,” she said suddenly, reaching into the pocket of her robes and pulling out something -- a handkerchief, I think, but she stuffs a handkerchief back in her pocket and there's still something in her hand. Will it hurt me? I don't care; my mind stopped thinking logically. She was one of my clues! One of my clues to my daddy!
“Tell me where he is!”
“You must’ve worked hard to figure out I know,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Unless… Branxton told you. Aha. What else did he tell you?”
“It doesn’t matter!” I exclaim, my heart racing. “’Cause you know where he is “ I don’t need any other hint, cause I have you--”
“You shouldn’t be snooping around in things that have nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me!” I exclaim, “It’s my daddy!”
That seems to hit her. There is quiet for a minute, and I get even more scared (or scareder, I can never remember which one it is), and then, she says quietly, “Lower your voice. It’s rude to yell."
“Please, Miss “ please let me meet him. My Mummy--”
“Your mother,” she repeats, furrowing her brows in a kind of dislike. She fiddles with the thing she pulled out of her pocket earlier.
“She deserves to be with the man she loves, and you know where he is!”
There is a flash of something in her eyes, and she says, the bitter tone back in her voice, “So do I.”
“You “ what?”
She glances down at the ground, letting out a small sigh, before biting her lip and looking back at me. “For future reference, you should be careful what you say. You never know who’s listening.”
I look around. “There’s no one here--”
“Hush, child. Here “ have a Chocolate Frog Card, for your troubles. But I advise you stay away from me and stop looking for your father.” She hands me the card “ that must be what she had been holding before (I don’t even glance at it) -- and turns and walks away.
“Wait!” I cry. “Please, don’t go!”
But she doesn’t listen. She looks back at me, something unreadable in her eyes, and then Apparates away.
I miserably shove the card into my dress pocket, hurry back inside the house and sit on the chair, and I fold my arms across my chest. She knows. I know she knows where he is, and I know that she can take me to my Daddy. She’s being selfish, because she’s jealous that he loves Mummy and not her. It’s not my fault that Daddy has good taste in women. From what I can tell, Pansy’s not very pretty, and not very nice. If I had a boyfriend who broke up with me and then had a little girl with another woman I’d tell the girl where he was, if I knew! Well, I think I would.
A few moments later, Mummy walks over.
“Honey, it’s time to go. What’s wrong?”
I don’t meet her eyes. “I’m tired, and I’m sick of this party.”
She smiles. “We’re going to go home now. Will you come at least say goodbye to the others?”
I shake my head, still looking away. She takes my wrist, waves to someone behind her, and in a second, we’re gone. Finally.
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