Hey guys, the idea for this story just came to me (though I wouldn't be too surprised if it has been done before) and I really just felt like writing it. I'm so so excited about it and I hope you like it. Updates will probably be alternating between this and my story Trapped, or maybe not. We'll see. Also this is my first first-person story. : ) I hope you love it and please leave me a review telling me what you think of it so far.
Without further adieu I present to you my newest and first Next Gen. fic...
S w e e t e s t L i e s
C H A P T E R O N E : S A Y I N G G O O D B Y E
R O S E
D E L I A
W E A S L E Y
I am sitting still, just like they all want me too. My black dress robe is only slightly wrinkled as it lays loosely against my pale skin, the contrast clearly evident. The stain that was on my robe only a few days ago is gone, after much hard work on my part to remove it. Of course I had to remove it, though. Who wears a black robe with a stain on it for an occasion like this? It would be inappropriate and surely everyone would stare at it. How disrespectful they would think I was being if I did not remove it and I cannot have that. No. Not today. Not on this horrible, awful, scary, lonely day.
My light, curly, brown hair lies ruffled against the shoulders of my robe, as I bend my head down to face my lap. My grey eyes have a constant stream of tears pouring from them as I listen to some distant relative speak words of sorrow and love. They have all had their turn; each one of them saying something wonderful about her, of course at least two-thirds of them probably don't even know her at all. Yet they are here anyways, paying their respect to a woman worthy of said respect. It makes me wonder how much I know her. I would have to say knowing someone for sixteen years is a long time. Yet, she spent more than half her life without me and I know only bits and pieces of the events that occurred during those times. Do I even know anything about her life before I was born?
In the back of the overly large, red room stands the general press, snapping pictures like there is no tomorrow. Of course this story will be all over the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. Have they no shame? I can see it now, ONE OF THE GOLDEN TRIO DEAD. Yes, just imagine how many copies of that bloody newspaper will be sold because of their stupid little articles about an under appreciated woman. Yes, they all know what a heroine she was when she was in school, how many Death Eaters she put behind bars; they know her intelligence and her bravery. But they don't know her. They don't know what kind of mother she is, or what kind of wife, or friend. They don't know how she truly acts towards her family, her children, and that is, that is why they don't understand how amazing she is. Yes she as accomplished so many things, but her most prized, she told me once, was her family.
I pull my head up with a jerk, giving my neck a bad cramp. I reach my right hand up and rub it gently as I look around the room, appearing at so many unfamiliar faces. The red on the room reminds me of the Gryffindor common room, yet I hate it. I despise the color red. Red reminds me of blood, of pain, of sacrifice. I don't care if I am in Gryffindor; I love the house, but does that really mean I have to love the color as well in order to belong there? My favorite color, don't get me wrong, is green. Green is the color of nature, of life, of spirit, and yes, perhaps it is Slytherin's color... so what? Well perhaps my family isn't so keen that my favorite color is green; mostly Dad, James, Hugo, and Fred think that it is a bad thing.
Next to me sits my Dad, his red hair stands out like a giant in a room full of house elves. His chocolate brown eyes are filled with tears as he listens to the speaker talk of the "better days." I have never seen my father cry in my entire life and it scares me so badly. On the other side of me sits my brother, Hugo; his red hair just as bright as my father's and his eyes just as brown. He is built just like him as well, tall and lanky, with hardly any muscle at all. Hugo's sobs are loud and distracting and only makes my heart break all over again.
All around us sits my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends, each one of them with tears in their eyes as they watch the ceremony take place. They are all here to recognize my mum and her life. Her wonderful life. She has accomplished so much, especially for being so young. Best friends with "the boy who lived" and his "sidekick", my dad. Yet, she hasn't accomplished enough. She was so young and still could have done so much with her life, she just didn't get the chance. Like she will never get the chance to see Hugo or I get married, or to hold her grandchildren, or to even properly say goodbye to all of those she loves.
She really was a great woman. One third of the Golden Trio, notable bookworm, and Auror extrodinare. But I never really saw her as any of that, except perhaps as a bookworm. She was just Mum to me. Wonderful, amazing Mum. Mum who would bake me chocolate chip cookies whenever I fell down; Mum who would make me laugh when I felt like I was going to cry; Mum who would read books to me before I went to sleep each night; Mum who would stick up for me when my cousin, James Potter, would tease me about being a know-it-all. Mum. My Mum. My smart, funny, caring, perfect mum.
And now she is gone. Gone forever. Forever was so permanent. Was I really, truly never going to see her wild, curly hair, her silly smile, and those looks she gave my Dad whenever he did something stupid, again? Was I never going to feel her hugs, smell her scent of honey and parchment, hear her laugh, see her smile, and taste her wonderful pudding again? Never again. Gone forever.
But how can she be? Wasn't it just yesterday that we were laughing over some silly thing that Hugo did? Or playing wizard chess together (I could always beat her, but never Dad, though I suspect Mum let me win...)? Or when the two of us would cook dinner with Aunt Ginny and my cousin, Lily? How is she gone? She was too young, way too young to die, especially for a witch. What is the point of magic if we cannot save the ones that we love?
How could she leave me? How could she leave us? We cannot possibly manage without her. Who will cook dinner for Hugo and Dad? I can't do it alone. Who will discuss books and homework with me? I need someone and no one else in this family will do it with me.Who will bring a smile to my face during a bad day? Who will do all of that with her gone.
We cannot manage without her.
I look back over at Dad to see the tears still running down his face. I know he'll miss her more than he can possibly bare. I can see it in his eyes now, he is recounting all of their memories together in his head over and over again, from the day they first met on the Hogwarts Express to just a few, long days ago, trying to encode them there forever, so that she will always remain in his heart, just as she will stay in mine.
Looking over at Hugo, I cannot help but stare at his hair, before looking back down at mine. How is it that he got the red hair and I didn't? Aren't all Weasley suppose to have red hair? It's like a law or something! Well except Victorie, my Uncle Bill's and Aunt Fleur's daugher. Her hair is more of a strawberry blonde. And well, James and Albus both seem to take after their father, the famous Harry Potter, with his black hair, rather than Ginny, their mother's red hair. But everyone else. Every single one else, Fred, Molly, Dom, Louis, Lily, Lucy, Roxanne, and Hugo all have the Weasley red hair.
Why don't I have it? Isn't the red hair like a requirement to be a Weasley? Is my last name not Weasley? Come on now, whoever is in charge of giving out the genes is killing me here.
Everyone says I look just like my mother, or well at least, much more like my mother than my father. I have my mother's brown hair, though mine seems to be slightly lighter and more organized curls than her busy ones; I have my mother's frame; her shoulders; her round checks; her round, small ears; her small lips; her perfect nose.
But I don't have her eyes.
I don't even have my father's eyes.
My eyes are grey, with a hint of blue in them. No one else has anything like them in my family and believe me I have checked. Fred and James thought it odd one day a few years ago when I went around, staring into everyone's eyes, but I had to know; I had to know who else had eyes like me. I was finally forced to come to the conclusion that absolutely no one did.
I hear small, polite clapping going on and I realize whoever had been speaking has finished and steps down from the front of the room. I realize that finally the young woman who has just finished is the last one to speak and we all get up to mingle around the room.
I notice my Dad immediately walks over to Uncle Harry and Ginny and begins speaking with them; all three of their eyes are red from crying too much. I can't stand to see my Dad like this, or anyone else. Why did Mum have to leave us? Why now? Hugo and I are still so young. I'm only sixteen; Hugo is fourteen. We can't handle a life without our mother.
Hugo is over by Louis (Uncle Bill and Fleur's son), Lily (Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's daughter), and Roxanne (Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's daughter.) All of them are clearly in tears and speaking quietly among themselves. Lily reaches over and pulls Hugo into a comforting hug, holding him, just as Mum use to do.
In the corner I can see James, Albus, Fred (Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's son), and Dominique (Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daughter) speaking amongst themselves. Dominique is clearly crying the hardest, but they all have tears in their eyes as they remember my Mum. All of them, but Dom, are major pranksters, always filled with jokes and laughs, yet now their faces seem so far away from that.
Uncle Percy, Aunt Audrey, Molly, and Lucy are together, their faces soaked in tears. I always thought them a bit strange, but they are family and I love them just the same.
Teddy Lupin is holding his girlfriend, my cousin, Victorie, comforting her as he gently rocks back and forth. Her tears are muffled by his shirt, as his own face has gloom all over it.
Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Fred, Aunt Angelina, Grandmum Weasley, and Grandfather Weasley are all huddled together, their eyes each mirroring the tears we all share. They have all known my mum for an extremely long time and she has been family to them since the very beginning.
I'm in a room full of so many people, yet I stand alone. I want to be alone. Coming from such a large family, I treasure my moments with them almost as much as I treasure my time alone. Don't get me wrong, I love them all, but it can be tiring being around them all of them time and yet, there's something more than that. It's just I feel so different than them all, like I don't belong. The Weasley family members are either quidditch fanatics or perfect prefects, and yet I don't really fit there. Sure I'm smart, like my mum; I'm a bookworm, like her and I love school. I'm not a prefect though, like she was. I can only assume the professors did not think I was stable enough to handle it.
I walk over to my Mum's portrait and cannot help but stare at her beautiful face. I can't believe she is gone. She just left us so quickly. Nobody saw her death coming. It was just an accident. All an accident. A little accident, that changed all of our lives completely.
We were in muggle London, her, Dad, Hugo, and I, walking through the streets, enjoying our summer vacation from school, when some muggle car comes out of no where. She and I had been the closest to the street, yet with her quick thinking she knew to push me away, towards Hugo and Dad, before the car came and took her away from us. She didn't even have time to reach for her wand.
That car took the most wonderful person away from my life and I will never get her back.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man that I have hardly ever seen before. He looks so familiar and I realize I must have seen him by the Hogwarts Express. He's in his late thirties, probably around my Mum's age, with white blonde hair, no white from his age. He is tall and lean with a pointed face. I recognize him, I know for sure, but I just cannot put my finger on who he could possibly be. Perhaps the parent of one of my cousin's friends? Or the parent of one of my classmates? I don't know. I cannot be sure..
I find it odd that he is here, but no one else seems to notice him among the chaos of sadness in the room. With his white blonde hair, he stands out like a sore thumb in a sea of red haired individuals. Perhaps he went to school with my Mum and Dad, Uncle Harry, and Aunt Ginny. Perhaps he was in Gryffindor with them, or maybe just a classmate. Maybe he is a quidditch rival of my Dad's or a study buddy of my Mum's. Or maybe he is none of that and just another admirer of the Golden Trio.
I see him scanning the room, though I don't know whatever for. He seems so lost and out of place, like an oven in the bedroom. What is he looking for? Who is he seeking? Perhaps an old friend? A classmate? Someone he knew from so long ago?
His eyes seem to connect with mine and we stand here staring at each other for what seems like a lifetime. He isn't smiling; he has a look of sadness and pain on his face. It is only then, when our eyes are on one another, that I, Rose Delia Weasley, realize his eyes are grey with a few specks of blue.
His eyes are exactly like mine.
So what do you think of the story so far? I hope you like it and please please please leave me a review to tell me what you think about it. I love when you guys leave me reviews and they really help me when I write. The next chapter will probably be out before the week is over, but I'm not positive on that one. I'll try my best. Is it too obvious who the man is that Rose sees? And is it too obvious where I may (or may not) be going with this?
Here is a preview of chapter two:
"I notice James still has his arm around me, as if he is afraid I will go over and see what is going on between my father and the man he hates. I try to shrug him off, but he won't let me and only tightens his protective grip. Albus stands on the other side of me, his feet frozen in place."