Hey guys!! I'm pretty glad to say that my updates have been pretty regular (like every two days or so...) for right now, but it might be a little while before I update again. Thank you so much to those who have all ready reviewed my story; I'm so glad to hear you like it. In my opinion the story is only getting more interesting (plot wise, though I hope overall it is more interesting as well.) I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far and any suggestions you may have for me; I thrive on you all's opinions.
She says nothing for a second, unsure herself, before she tells me, "well, I suppose you have two options; ignore all of this and realize we love you Rose and you are part of our family, or I guess go and confront Draco." Her voice is troubled and soft.
I know she wants me all to ignore it. I know she doesn't want me to leave and speak to Mr. Malfoy. I know she doesn't want Dad to ever find out what his deceased wife as done. But she knows I won't ignore it; she knows I will go and speak to Mr. Malfoy; and she knows Dad... um... Ron, is going to find out about all of this and it breaks her heart.
"I think I need to talk with Mr. Malfoy, uh, my real father," I whisper so quietly I'm not even sure she hears me. But as I feel a warm tear drip down her face and fall into my curly hair, I know she heard me.
And now I give you the next chapter of my story... hope you love it!
S W E E T E S T . L I E S
C H A P T E R . F O U R : C O N F O R M A T I O N S
Pulling away from my aunt, who just so happens to be the same height as me, I stare into her hazel eyes, waiting patiently for some kind of a reaction. I take a big breath, trying to relax myself and prepare for what I am about to go and do.
I mean really, how does one go about this? Does he even have a clue? Did he ever think of the possibility that I was his child? Did he ever do the math? Did Draco whatever-his-middle-name-is Malfoy ever considered the possibility he might have gotten my mum pregnant during the affair? Didn't they use birth control, or a condom, or SOMETHING?
Oh crap. If they did I wouldn't even be born.
Aunt Ginny nods her head, silently telling me 'you know you have to do it.'
How is he going to react? Or will he just deny it?
Would he really do that? Throw me out of his house and tell me that I am not really his daughter and he wants nothing to do with me? What about his wife? Oh no. What is she going to say? What is she going to say when she finds out that my mum slept with her husband while they were married? And what about my dad? Well, I guess I mean Ron... What is Ron going to say? Is he going to turn me away too? Will both my real dad and Ron decide that they want nothing to do with me? Then what? Where do I go from there?
Who would I live with if no one wants me? None of Ron's brothers, sister, or parents would take me in if they found out I really wasn't Ron's daughter, would they? And mum doesn't have any siblings to take me in. Mum's parents are too old to be able to care for a sixteen year old.
Then what? What do I do?
I'm not good alone. It just doesn't work for me.
What if I never told anyone? Surely Aunt Ginny would not say anything if I asked her to keep quiet, right? Nobody has to know. We could all go back to our quiet live and pretend everything is normal.
Though it won't be normal.
It will never be normal again.
Mum is gone.
I know the man I thought to be my father really isn't.
Even worse, I'm related to the sworn enemy of my entire family: Draco Malfoy.
How can life ever be normal again.
"Rose, sweetie," my Aunt's exhausted voice calls to me, tearing me away from my frightening thoughts.
"Yes, Aunt Ginny?" I ask her, as I play with my hair; twirling my light brown locks around my pointer finger.
"Are you ready? Do you want me to go with you? Do you want to talk about it before you go? Are you sure you want to do this? Do you want to talk to your father... err, I mean Ron, first? Or your brother? Or one of your cousins? Do you want me to go talk to Draco first? Do you want to stay for breakfast and then go? Do you..." she rambles on and on, displaying her worry in her voice.
I cut her off, knowing that her questions will only make this harder for both of us. "No, I don't need breakfast, or for you to come, or to talk to my fath... I mean Ron, or anyone else. This is something I need to do on my own and this is something I need to do now. This is between me and my real father," I tell her, trying to sound more confident and determined than I really feel.
"How are you going to get there, Sweetie?" my Aunt asks me. Perhaps she isn't really my real father's sister, but she will always be my aunt; my favorite aunt at that.
"I don't know; I haven't really thought about it yet. I don't know how to get there, so brooms are out of the question," I provide her.
"What about floo?" my aunt suggests. Her red hair lies straight down her back as she waits for me to answer her.
"Wouldn't it be rather rude for me to all of a sudden appear in the living room of someone I hardly know, even if he is my father...?" I retort her suggestion.
"And you can't apparate yet, because you are not of age. Would you like to side-along apparate with me? I can leave right after I drop you off at the doorstep if you would like? But that way you are not being 'rude'" my aunt offers me.
"Yeah, I guess that could work. But you'll leave as soon as you drop me off, right? I'm sorry if I seem like I am being selfish or mean or something, but this really is something that I have to do by myself," I try to explain, my voice slightly rushed and pathetic.
"Of course, Rosie. Of course I understand," Aunt Ginny assures me. She takes a deep breath before asking, "are you ready now?"
I don't say anything for a few seconds, before I slowly nod my head, words running through my confused mind as I try to settle on what would be the best way to inform a man I don't even know that he has a daughter he never knew about; and that daughter is me.
I can barely feel her as she lightly grabs my arm, rubbing it soothingly. I grab the box the revealed to me my mother's lies, before we disappear from the Potter's kitchen.
I feel slightly sick as we suddenly appear with a crack on the doorstep of an overly large mansion.
Aunt Ginny pulls me once again into a tight hug, whispering, "everything is going to work out fine," before she leaves, allowing me to do what I have come here to do.
Staring up at the large house before me, I stare at the enchanting marble porch, white brick building, and large front doors. The house appears to be at least three stories, though it is hard to tell from where I am standing.
My stomach tightens with nerves as I realize this is going to be harder than I thought. Taking a deep breath, I reach forward, and press the button, ringing the doorbell and alerting the entire house of my presence.
I manage to get in two whole deep breaths before the door opens and I am greeted by a house elf.
It figures that a family of such high status would own a house elf.
"How can I help you, Mademoiselle?" the small creature asks, holding the pillow case he is wearing in his small, thick fingers. His head is much to large for his small body and the wrinkles make him look much older than he surely his.
"Um," I try to begin, searching for my voice. "May I please speak with Mr. Malfoy?" I ask, as I wonder if he is even at home at this time of the morning. Or if he is even awake.
I clutch my mother's chest as I wait for him to answer, as if I was expecting this chest of lies to help me in the time I need it the most.
"Of course, Mademoiselle, right this way," the house elf says, leading me into the enormous house.
The ways of the entryway are a perfect shade of light green, though I wouldn't expect anything less coming from a family of Slytherins. The hallways is dimly lit, with all of the blinds only partly drawn. The walls contain at least twenty or so portraits on the wall, all of middle aged blonde men and women; all of the portraits have the same grey eyes with hints of blue.
"Here we are, Mademoiselle," the house elf informs me as we stand outside two tall, oak doors. "May I have your name, to inform the Master of your presence?" he asks me, politely, but in a shy voice.
"Yes, of course. My name is Rose.. err," I pause, unsure of whether or not to give my last name. I decide to go ahead and say "Rose Weasley," deciding that despite the fact Ron Weasley may not be my father, my name is still 'Rose Weasley' on the birth certificate.
"Yes, Mademoiselle Weasley. Just one moment, please," the elf says, as he bows his way into the room, his back to the doors.
The door closes behind him and I faintly here him say, "Master Draco, you have a visitor; a Ms. Rose Weasley. Shall I allow her in?"
I panic for a mere moment. What if he doesn't let me in? What if he refuses to see me? I wouldn't even get the chance to tell him that he is my real father? What if he...
A voice cuts off my train of thought as I hear a very muffled and very confused voice speak, "yes." Of course he is surprised to see me. Of course he wouldn't expect me of all people to request a visit with him; me, who is the daughter of his old lover; me, who is supposedly the daughter of his enemy, Ron Weasley; me, who has the last name of the family he despises the most; me, who...
Once again, my train of thought is cut off, as the house elf opens the door and speak, "come in, Mademoiselle Weasley."
I enter the room and look around, realizing that must me Mr. Malfoy's office. He is sitting at his desk in the back of the room, facing the door; papers scattered semi-neatly across his desk. The walls are, not to my surprise, a dark green, with a silver trim. Wow this guy really was a Slytherin through and through.
"Can I help you Ms. Weasley?" Mr. Malfoy says, his voice somewhere mixed between amused and confused.
"Yes, sir," I answer him, deciding that it would not be the best idea to call him "Dad", "Father", or "Daddy Dearest" until after I explain everything to him. "You, see I came here to talk about my mum." My fingers trace the edges of the chest I hold in my hands, waiting patiently for some kind of reaction for the man my mum cheated on her husband with.
"Ah, I see and what do you think I know about your 'mum'?" he asks, his voice more amused than mean.
Suddenly I felt bolder than I had the entire time since I had learned Draco Malfoy was probably my father. "I think you know quite a bit, actually."
"And why do you think that?"
"For one, you showed up at her funeral."
"How do you know it wasn't out of respect?" he counters, his tongue quick and sharp.
"Because of this," I say, as I hold up my mother's chest, before pushing it onto his desk, right in front of him.
"And what is this?" he asks, one again confused. Slowly he opens the box, stares at it, then back at me. "Where did you get this?" he questions me.
"My mum left me the key in her will; I found it this morning when I was up in the attic." My voice remains confident and straightforward.
Looking back down at the chest, he sifts through it until he comes across a picture of him and my mum. Staring at the picture and then back at me, he whispers, "you know you look just like your mum. I noticed it when I was at her funeral a few days back. I thought you were her for an instant; I knew you had to be her daughter. Your build, your cheekbones, your nose, your ears, your smile... you got them all from your mother; everything except for your eyes..."
"Ron Weasley has hazel eyes," I tell him; shocking him.
"Yes, I suppose he does."
"I never knew where I got my eyes from. You see nobody in either the Weasley family nor the Granger family has grey eyes. It wasn't until this morning that I was sure where I got my eyes from. Didn't you ever do the math Mr. Malfoy? Didn't you ever think of the possibilty?"
"What are you talking about Ms. Weasley?" he asks me, clearly not following my logic.
"I was born on June 7th, 2006, Mr. Malfoy. I don't look anything like Mr. Weasley. You were having an affair with my mum nine months before I was born. I have your eyes... your grey eyes..."
He looks at me like I have two heads. "Ms. Weasley, are you trying to tell me that you think you are my daughter?"
"Please Mr. Malfoy. Do the math. I am your daughter. Do you honestly think I look anything like the Weasley family?"
Was he really questioning this?
Well yes, I suppose he was. Perhaps he really doesn't believe me. Perhaps I was wrong when I decided to come here. What on earth am I suppose to do now?
"Oh dear Lord," he whispers, his grey eyes staring right into my own.
"Mr. Malfoy..." I begin, but I am not really sure what to say to him; I think I have said enough as it is.
He stands up, walks around the long, oak desks, and comes towards me; his eyes closely observing my own. "I have a daughter?" He sounds so surprised, but for the first time it sounds like he actually believes me. "I do have a daughter."
I nod my head, once again speechless.
So he is okay with this? He is okay with having a daughter? Especially one that came out of an affair? What about his wife? What about the rest of his family? What about his son?
Scoripus Malfoy is my brother?
But then again, Hugo Weasley is my half brother too.
Still... SCORPIUS MALFOY IS MY BROTHER??
Out of no where, Draco Malfoy... my real father... pulls me into an unexpected hug. Tell me you see a Malfoy has a touchy-touchy person.
At least he isn't denying all of this.
If there is one thing I know about me, is things always seem to happen to me at the wrong moment. How is this a wrong moment you might ask? Well it just so happens that a certain Scorpius Malfoy decides to walk into the room, without knocking, while Draco is holding me in a fatherly hug.
Wow. What a wrong impression that might make.
He clears his throat causing Draco to pull away from me, his grey eyes holding traces of tears as he looks over at his son.
"Umm, Dad? Weasley? What the hell is going on here?" His voice sounds exactly the same as Draco's when he first saw me here; confused. His grey eyes go back and forth between his father and I, trying to figure out what is going on here.
His white blonde hair looks exactly like his father's. He is skinner and not quite as muscular, but the resemblance is very clearly there. He is without a doubt his father's son.
And my brother.
"Scorpius, there is someone I would like you to meet..." Draco, my father (wow that is weird to say... err well think...), begins, his voice holding traces of shock and excitement.
"Father, I know who she is... Who doesn't know who Rose Weasley, the daughter of two thirds of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, is? She is almost as famous as her parents. What I don't understand is why she is in our house, in our den, hugging you?" his confused and slightly angry voice says, almost mockingly as he walks closer towards us.
"Actually Scorpius," my father begins again. "That isn't all completely true..."
"What the heck are you talking about Father? Of course I am right. The whole world knows that," he says, arrogantly.
"Yes, Hermione Granger is her mother, yes she is the daughter of one third of the Golden Trio..."
Scorpius cuts him off, "one third?"
"You see Hermione and I had... well... you see... umm.. in 2005, well Hermione and I..." Draco cannot seem to form the words; words that could tear his only son apart.
"Are you trying to tell me you slept with Hermione Weasley? When she was married? And you were married? And my mum was pregnant with me...?"
"Scorpius, meet your sister, Rose," Draco finally is able to get out, his nerves not quite there anymore and his seriousness bursting off of each word.
SO? What do you think so far? That was kind of a big scene and rather hard to write, but I hope it turned out okay. Obviously the story is coming along rather quickly, but hopefully it is all working out okay. Once again, I'm not positive when I will update this story next; it probably will be within a week though (you have to admit I am a pretty fast updater when I have time...). (But I'm happy to say TRAPPED is almost done.) The next chapter of this story will bring more Malfoy interaction and Ron will be in the picture as well.