Of Secrets and Roses

Chapter 3:

Morning came too quickly. As soon as the sun streamed through the window, Rose was woken up by her noisy brother. Pounding on the door, Rose's brother shook her room slightly. The furniture rattled up against the wall and Rose groaned rolling over to her side, to peer at the clock. It was six thirty in the morning and she was already awake? She had never woken up this early—especially in the summer time.

“Rose!” shouted Hugo, banging on the door. “Mum, wants you to come down to breakfast. Hurry up too! Grandma is expecting you around eight o'clock.”

Instead of replying verbally, Rose threw her pillow across the room to hit the closed door. With stiffness and tiredness, she had trouble walking across her room. She cursed after nearly tripping on a pair of shoes in the middle of her floor, wondering how she could function for the rest of the day. Her vision seemed blurred, she could barely move, and she felt lightheaded from the lack of sleep she had the night before.

Thanks a lot, Scorp. Rose thought, knowing that she would of gone to bed earlier if Scorpius hadn't shown up. By the time she got to sleep it was well after midnight, which resulted in only getting six hours of sleep.

Rose managed to wash her face, tame her wild curls, and put some eye makeup around her blue eyes without falling asleep. She nearly fell asleep changing into her clothes, but managed to make her way down to breakfast, smelling the freshly cooked bacon along her way.

Hugo and her father sat at the kitchen table, both reading. Hugo was reading a muggle studies book, while Rose's father read the Daily Prophet. Rose didn't see why reading was so fascinating. She knew her father just read to get the latest news, while Hugo and her mother read for fun. Seriously, who read for fun?

“Morning,” said Hugo, glancing up from his book to look at Rose, before returning to it.

Rose sat down at her usual spot, looking at the front cover of the Daily Prophet. Once again it talked about old Death Eaters causing ruckus somewhere in Europe. Nothing new, nothing interesting.

Her mother and father didn't say anything, as they began to eat. Rose had her usual amount of bacon—eight big pieces to be exact—while her father had over half of the plate. Pig thought Rose, observing her father's eating habits. Her mother and brother ate like human beings, while her father literally stuffed all of the food on the plate into his mouth.

The only thing Rose splurged on was bacon. Other than that, her appetite was very small. She never had a snack during the day—unless it was candy or chocolate—and always had very little meals. Her mother said that she was anorexic, with how skinny and lean Rose was, but Rose was not. There were upper classmates that were bulimic and anorexic, that didn't even make them skinnier.

“You are expected over at your grandmother's around eight o'clock, Rose,” said Hermione suddenly. She took a sip of her orange juice, before continuing on. “I know it isn't your ideal place to spend the rest of your summer, but as I said it will benefit you in the long run. Your Uncle George will be there as well, since he is taking the week off to be at home. Please respect him just as much as your grandparent's. After all, he is your uncle and an older adult.”

“Yup,” was all Rose said in return. She knew a speech like that would come eventually in the morning. Her mother was too predictable when it came to stuff like that. Besides, she already gave her a speech like that last night, when she brought Rose's dinner up to her room.

Ron Weasley swallowed his mouthful of food, looking at his daughter. “Punch George all you want Rose, he will give you an earful of torment. Blimey, I remember when he lost his ear--”

Rose leaned on the edge of her seat, eager to learn more. She never heard the full story about how Uncle George lost his ear. She knew it was many years ago—when her Uncle Fred was alive—but she never knew anything else. Before hearing more, she was cut off by her mother. “Ronald now is not the time for Rose to learn those stories. Hugo is most definitely too young and--”

“He is thirteen and Rosie is fifteen, 'Mione. How much longer do you expect to keep the past a secret? Sooner of later someone is going to tell them or they will figure it out from a book or something.”

Rose's mother gave her husband a cross look. “Professor McGonagall put any information about those particular events in the restricted section. I am highly certain she wouldn't allow anyone to access them.”

“Are they files?” quirked Hugo, taking a break from reading his book. “Are they files of pictures, newspaper clips, and old letters? I think that would be rather interesting to see and learn about the past. Professor Binns never teaches us about what it was like when you were at school. I'm sure things have changed from then until now.”

“It certainly has,” muttered Hermione, hoping that her children wouldn't hear that. She remembered how terrifying the past was with Voldemort. She wanted to keep that part of her past, like many other things.

“It may be an important part of history, Mum, that has obviously made an impact on our family. Maybe if it didn't happen you two wouldn't be married. Or maybe Mum would of ended up with that Malfoy fellow,” piped Hugo.

Rose kicked her brother underneath the table and glared at him for bringing the Malfoy family up, when Hermione's face suddenly turned pale. Their father sat there shaking his head, knowing that his wife wouldn't of ended up with Malfoy. While everyone was uneasy about the subject, Hugo sat their with amusement spread across his face.

“I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to make you upset, but I was just thinking of the worst possibility. You look rather sick right now, do you need to lay down?” Hugo said.

“I just need some fresh air,” stated Hugo's mother, pushing out her chair after excusing herself. “Rose, would you please do the dishes for me?”

Rose rolled her eyes, pushing out her own chair. “I have to pack. I went to bed early last night and forgot to. I bet Hugo would do that for you.” As Rose finished her sentence she waited for her mother to yell at her and say she was irresponsible.

Instead of yelling at Rose, she looked over at Hugo. “Would you please, Hugo?” Hermione tucked some of her curls behind her ears, before giving her son an encouraging smile.

“Of course.”

“Rose, please go and pack from your grandmother's. Ron, could you assist Hugo if he needs any help?”

Ron nodded. “When did you start feeling this bad?”

Hermione shrugged, not knowing the answer. She had woken up not feeling herself and after she finished her breakfast, her stomach started to upset her. She explained that to her children and Ron, before stepping out the back door.

Rose stood by the glass back door, staring out the window. She saw her mother walking to the pond Rose knew so well. The pond her mother criticized about Rose going to. She shook her head at her mother, feeling anger burn up inside of her.

Hugo stood beside Rose, peering at his mother in the distance. He looked at Rose and then his mother, seeing some sort of resemblance. When they needed a place to go, they would head to the pond.

“So she lectures me about going to the pond to escape things, when she goes there herself?” Rose said aloud. She knew her father and brother would hear it, but she honestly didn't care. What was the point of caring about those things?

“She isn't feeling very well, Rose, so she has a right to do whatever she wants. She said she needed fresh air, so sitting by the pond is a good way to get it.” Her brother shrugged his shoulders, before turning around and walking back to the kitchen sink to do the dishes.

She ignored her brother, knowing that her mother was full of rubbish. She looked perfectly fine, until Rose mentioned the Malfoy's. What the bloody hell was her mother's problem? Oh yeah, it brought back memories of her mother being bullied. Big deal, now her mother could kick their arses with a flick of her wand.

Retreating to her room, she quickly packed—for Hogwarts and the week at her grandmother's—and managed to make her hair somewhat presentable. Her blonde curls seemed to never want to stay in pretty curls. By the end of the day, they were usually a mess.

Who cares Rose thought I'm just going to Grandma's. Without another thought about her appearance, she quickly tossed in the remaining stuff she had and pulled her suitcase down a couple flights of stairs.

Hugo was sitting on the couch reading, as usual, while her father was still reading the Daily Prophet. There was no sign of Rose's mother, who seemed to still be outside. Rose sat down next to her brother wordlessly and twirled her wand around in her hands. She was ready to leave.

~~

It didn't take long for Rose to settle into her bedroom at the Weasley's. She slept in Aunt Ginny's old bedroom, which resembled something similar to Rose's room at home—except it was smaller. It felt like Rose was almost home in her own room, which put her in a better mood.

After saying goodbye to her brother and parents, Rose finally felt a little bit of freedom forming over her. She would have a lot more time to relax and take it easy before school would start up again. . .although her mother was very content when she explained to her grandma about what Rose needed to do before school starts up. This consisted of a head start on her lessons and chores.

When Hermione walked out the door, she had stopped to look at Rose. She stared at Rose for the longest time, with the same expression she always gave her. . .like she was hiding something. Once again Rose was baffled by what the expression meant, so she just tried to ignore it and pretend like nothing was wrong. Deep down inside, Rose knew something was very wrong.

There was a knock at the door and Rose stood up and opened up the door. Her Uncle George stood there, with one ear, grinning at her. His incredibly tall form hung over her. “'ello Rosie,” He said.

“I told you to not call me that,” said Rose.

Uncle George shrugged, pushing aside the door to walk into the room. He stared at the walls and out the window, before taking at seat at the end of the bed. “I remember when me and Fred played a prank on Ginny in here. She freaked out and gave us death threats.”

“Blimey, what did you do?” She asked.

A mischievous smile spread across George's face. Behind his smile you could still see sadness from the loss of his best friend, Fred. Yes, it had been many years since her Uncle Fred died, but she knew that Uncle George wasn't ever going to be truly happy again.

“Mum was donating all of these old clothes to the family's in need. So Fred and I nicked the box and cut holes in all the clothes. When Ginny wasn't in her room we took her clothes out of her closet and put in the chopped up clothes. At that time the only thing Ginny cared about was her appearance. She was still trying to snag your Uncle Harry.”

“You seriously did that?”

“We bloody well did,” said George defiantly. He looked down, with a face of pure sadness. “One of the last pranks we ever did together. I remember how much we laughed about it and how we planned on bugging Ginny about it in the future.”

“I'm sorry,” said Rose, not knowing what to think or say. She knew she couldn't do anything about it and she definitely knew that she wouldn't cry over her Uncle Fred's death at all. After all, she barely knew him and his twin.

There was a moment of silence and Rose knew that her Uncle George was re-accounting memories with is twin. Instead of comforting him, she just paced around her room, not knowing what to do. She could always leave him, but she knew that would be mean. Talking to him was always good, but maybe he didn't want his moment of silence to be interrupted.

After a certain amount of time passed, George looked over at his niece, giving her a grin. “Blimey, Rose, why are you pacing?”

She shrugged.

“Anything you want to talk to me about?”

“One thing actually,” She said, thinking of something that popped in her head. She had no problem coming out and say it rather bluntly, “I know I don't look like a Weasley, since I obviously lack the red hair and freckles, but--”

He rolled his eyes at was Rose was trying to say.“You are a Weasley, Rose. It doesn't matter what you look like because deep down inside you are one at heart. That is all that matters. Hell, I heard that you are very good at scheming. I think you got that trait from me.”

“I just find it rather odd that I don't even look anything close to one. Even though I have blue eyes—like the others—they aren't the same shade. Uncle George, am I adopted?” She just needed to get right to the point, she couldn't build up to her question. She just needed to get it off her chest.

George rolled his eyes, standing up from the end of her bed. “Of course not. There were pictures of your mother when she was pregnant with you. You just didn't get the Weasley traits. Instead you got dirty blonde hair, lighter blue eyes, and your mother's curls. I reckon you got some height. You are rather tall for a girl.”

“Thanks,” said Rose, sensing that her uncle was going to be leaving. George grinned and walked to the door. “Oh and Uncle George?” She saw him turn around and face her. “I'm sorry about Uncle Fred.”

George looked sadly at the ground, then looked up at Rose. There was a twinkle beneath his blue eyes, as a hint of sadness spread across his face. “Thank you, Rosie.”

Without arguing or yelling at him for calling her that, Rose watched him shut her bedroom door. Realizing that she did a good thing, Rose smiled, gazing out the window. She knew she never would apologize to anyone else—especially her mother—but seeing someone that lost their best friend, she couldn't imagine what it would feel like. After all, she knew she couldn't live without Scorpius.