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Delicate by padfoot4ever
Chapter 29 : Becoming Parents
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 195

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Chapter 29 - Becoming Parents

Dom looks shocked. Actually, Dom looks frightened and shocked. Actually, she looks frightened, shocked and confused at the state of the dormitory, and more importantly, the state of the person sitting in the middle of it tearing up pictures – me. 

It’s not that I have a very large amount of pictures of him. I have around ten. Well, I had around ten, but now I’ve torn them all up and the remains are strewn across the floor. And I’ve poured three bottles of pumpkin juice over them, just to make sure they’re destroyed. 

“Eh…” Dom starts, “What…why…what…” 

“My child has no father,” I hiss and tear up the last picture, one that was just taken yesterday of me and him. It was a stupid picture anyway. I looked fat in it. I know I am fat, but still, I don’t exactly want photographic proof of it. 

“What…why…what…b-but why?” 

Dom sits down on the floor beside me and pries the teddy bear Scorpius got for me out of my hands before there’s a serious massacre. 

“Rose, what the hell is going on?” she asks. 

“He believed his Dad over me!” I cry, “He believed his bloody father over me!” 

“You’ve lost me,” says Dom blankly. 

“Alright…” I fume, “Okay…so Malfoy lost his job today and so, being the genius he is, asked his father for money…” 

“You asked your father for money?” I spat, “As in Draco Malfoy?” 

“How many fathers do I have?” he replied sardonically. 

“How could you ask your father for money, Scorpius? I…I could have asked my parents! You could have gotten another job. I could get a job! James could become a male prostitute! There are a thousand different things we could have done to get money! Robbing Gringotts sounds more appealing than going to your father –” 

“Your parents are doing enough,” he cut me off, “Mr and Mrs Potter have given you money, the baby is going to be living with your parents – I want my family to contribute something too.” 

“Your family,” I scoffed, “I’ve had quite enough of your bloody family!” 

He looked at me darkly. I’ve never seen him give a look so dirty to anyone in my whole life. 

“What does that mean?” he asked defensively. 

“It means –” 

“Why is your family’s money worth more than mine? Why is your family so much better, eh?” he spat. 

“My family weren’t Death Eaters!” I snapped, but instantly regretted it. I knew I shouldn’t have brought that up. Digging up the past, especially where our families are concerned, is never a good idea. 

“And it all comes out,” he said in a low voice, “You think you’re better than me. You think your family’s better than mine.” He looked so disgusted with me, I started to feel sick. 

“Your dear old father tried to bribe me to have an abortion, did you know that?”
He looked at me intensely. No expression appeared across his face as he contemplated what I’d just told him. 

“You’re lying,” he decided after a few minutes. 

“What?” I cried, “You think I’m lying? Why the hell would I lie about this?!” 

“Because you’re determined to hate my family!” he shouted, pacing around his dormitory. We had retreated to his dormitory to discuss this issue, but I could still hear the Slytherin victory party going on below us. “You’ve been raised to think that my family is evil, that my dad is a wanker –” 

“Your dad
is a wanker,” I told him, “It’s a fact.” 

“And you’re dad’s a saint is he? Saint Potter’s- Sidekick Ron Weasley?” 

“My dad may not be perfect but he’s a damn sight more moral than yours! And I never realised you had such issues with my family!” 

“Well I never realised you had issues with mine either,” Scorpius shot back. 

We looked at each other for a moment, neither of us quite knowing what to say. 

“I suppose your wanker father was right about one thing,” I whispered after a minute, “Malfoys and Weasleys will never be friends.” 

He glared back. “Too right.” 

“You know what,” I pulled myself up off his bed, where I had been sitting, “Forget the money. Tell your father to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. And you can stick this fatherhood thing too. I can do this on my own.” 

“Don't be stupid,” Scorpius snapped, “You can’t possibly do this alone.” 

“I’d much rather do this alone than raise my child a Malfoy. I’d hate for her or him to become as ignorant and wicked as the rest of you.” 

“As opposed to being poor and thick like a Weasley,” he shot back. I slapped him. And it hurt my hand. 

“You are a clone of your father,” I fought the lump in my throat, “And I suppose I was thick to think you were any different.” 
It doesn’t look as if Dom’s mouth is ever going to shut. 

“He really said that?” she gasps. 

“He’s a wanker,” I pull the teddy bear back off Dom and chop its head off, “He’s a bloody wanker, just like every other Malfoy in the history of time.” 

“Rose, did Draco Malfoy really try to bribe you to have an abortion?” 

I explain everything to her. I should have explained it to her when it happened, but she was still with Scorpius back then and it was harder to talk to her about it. She listens without interrupting for five minutes straight, and when I’m finished she agrees with me that all Malfoys are wankers. 

“I just hope this baby is a girl,” I say, “The asshole gene seems to be far more prominent in males.” 

A knock on the door disrupts me from destroying everything I own that reminds me of Scorpius Malfoy, and Dom gets up to answer it. It’s a first year girl looking quite nervous to be knocking on the door of the sixth year girls’ room, as any normal first year would be. 

“Professor Flitwick wants to see Rose Weasley,” she says robotically and then turns and runs down the stairs. 

“What does he want?” I moan, “I hate people.” 

“Come on, I’ll walk with you,” says Dom and helps me up off the floor. I mumble to myself the whole way to the office, silently plotting ways to leave the country and raise my child as a Weasley. If he or she asks who his or her father is, I’ll tell them the stork brought them and never explain the biology of human reproduction. Sorted. 

When we reach Flitwick’s office, Dom hugs me and tells me she’ll wait outside. I knock, but don’t bother waiting for a response before going inside. And there, sitting across from Flitwick, is the man himself. The antichrist. The father. Draco Malfoy. Excuse me while I throw up. 

“Miss Weasley, you have a visitor,” says Flitwick. 

“Voldemort?” I ask and Mr Malfoy turns around to face me, “Oh, excuse me Mr Malfoy, I thought you were someone else.” 

“My son told me you had a sense of humour,” says Mr Malfoy, but he doesn’t look as if he’s found the slightest bit of humour in what I’ve said. 

“Your son is an idiot,” I tell him, “You should be very proud, he’s taking after your side of the family.” 

“I’ll just give you a moment,” says Flitwick, clearly not wanting to scold one of his angry pregnant students, and leaves his office. Again. 

“I understand you need some money,” Mr Malfoy starts. 

“And how many people would you like me to kill for it?” I ask smartly, “If you want to leave a list with me I can have it done by Monday. We’ll say a galleon per person? Two for children?” 

“I’m here to apologise to you,” he says, though not very sincerely. Still, it’s quite a step. I didn’t know he knew words as big as ‘apologise’. “I panicked when I found out the news, like any normal parent would.” 

“Mr Malfoy, I really think you have some twisted ideas on what classifies as ‘normal parenting’.” 

“What I mean to say is,” he continues through gritted teeth, “I am sorry for what I said to you. And I would like to offer you some money as nothing more than a goodwill gesture.” 

“I’ll tell you where you can stick your goodwill gesture –” 

The door of the office opens and Scorpius walks in, looking especially moody. It takes all the strength I have in me not to pick up the little ornament of a pixie that’s on Flitwick’s desk and peg it at his head. 

“What’re you doing here?” Scorpius asks his father. 

“You said you needed my help,” Mr Malfoy replies, “And you know I’ll always be there for you, son, even if I don’t always show it.” 

Scorpius nods uncomfortably, and Mr Malfoy looks even more uncomfortable. 

“Well, I know this little moment would bring tears to a turnip and everything,” I say flatly, “But I really don’t know what this has to do with me. I don’t want anything more to do with your family.” 

“Well I don’t want anything more to do with you either,” says Scorpius, “But that baby happens to be my family too, so we’re stuck.” 

“Stop pretending like you care –” 

“It’s my baby, of course I care!” 

“You don’t care about anything except your stupid hair!” 

“That’s the most ridiculous argument ever!” 

“Stop!” Mr Malfoy cries and stands between us. 

“I’m so sick of both of you,” I spit, “Mr Malfoy, tell your son about your little plan. Go on, tell him. Then I can rub it in his face that his father actually is pure evil.” 

Mr Malfoy bows his head, at least having the decency to look ashamed. Scorpius stares at him and I wonder if he’s going to punch him again, because that was fun the last time. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I offered to take care of the situation. It was months ago, I’ve changed my mind –” 

“Wait, so you tried to bribe Rose to have an abortion?” Scorpius asks, “Are you for fucking real?” 

Before a shouting-slash-boxing match can ensue, I leave the office, slamming the door behind me. Personally, I hope they kill each other. I tell Dom everything on the way back to the common room, and she puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. But I don’t need a hug – I need to kill something. 

I spend the whole next day doing homework. Although the professors don’t really expect me to do as much work as everyone else, I try to anyway. Scorpius doesn’t come looking for me once and when I go down to the Great Hall for dinner, he doesn’t even look up from his plate. I thought he might be rushing over to me to apologise, but apparently not. Maybe too much has been said. Why does happiness have to be so short-lived in my life? Can’t anything go right for me? 

On Monday I drift from class to class, not really paying attention to anything. Dom is at my side the whole time and doesn’t even acknowledge Mark whenever he tries to talk to her. She knows I need her, especially now that Jenny is spending every waking second with Robert. 

This confuses Al to no end. 

“We won the match! Why would she want to go out with a loser?” he keeps repeating. 

“Because he has a nice arse,” I shoot. A low blow, but I don’t care. 

Nobody asks me any questions as to why Scorpius and I aren’t speaking either. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dom has passed the word around not to mention the ‘S’ word to me. I sort of want to know what happened between him and his father, but I don’t want to speak to him about it. Or about anything for that matter. 

But by Thursday, I can no longer take the silence. I approach him in the library, though I’m not quite sure if I want a reunion or a shouting match. I’m probably more likely to get the latter. 

He looks up from his Astronomy book and looks surprised to see me. I’m not exactly one for making the first move after all. 

“Why haven’t you apologised yet?” I whisper. 

“You said you were sick of me,” he whispers back, “I thought you might hit me again if I tried.” 

“Did you talk to your dad?” 

“Yeah. Turns out you were right – he is a wanker.” 

“I think we momentarily fulfilled every child’s worst nightmare and became our parents,” I say, “Promise me we’ll never do that again.” 

He takes my hand in his. “I promise.” 

"So we can forget everything we said?" 

"It's forgotten," he says firmly.

And although we've reunited, I can't help but notice that neither of us has apologised for what we said. Maybe that's because neither of us are truly sorry. 

I knew the Malfoy-Weasley thing would get in the way. It always does.

A/N - I know, not the best chapter and unbelievably short. I'll try to post the next one soon to make up for it, but I'd still appreciate if you'd review! And this isn't the last we'll see of Draco, and for all you Draco-fans, you can see I haven't made him completely evil. For those who are asking how many chapters the story is going to be, I'd say between 35 and 38. So there's not too long to go now! 
Once again: review!
Thanks for reading!

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