House of Cards Chapter One - Of Pasts and Present
Chapter 1- Of Pasts and Present
"I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy."
~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I felt her hovering behind me as I eyed the letter with growing apprehension, she would be transferring her weight from foot to foot, ringing her hands, as she always did when she was nervous. Her eyes widened as I slowly slipped a finger underneath the emerald green wax circle and in one clean movement broke the seal in two. She released a gasp I wasn't aware she had been holding causing me to turn and glare. "For Merlin's sake Mum it's just a letter."
"Rose," she placed a hand on my shoulder but changed tact when I continued to glare at her with raised eyebrows. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just a letter." She took a step away from me. "I'll just go sit over here." But she didn't go sit on the chair. Instead she moved over to the sink and began rinsing a tea pot she had cleaned mere moments before.
Just a letter, I told myself. I was lying. The feel of metal amongst parchment was unmistakable, the letters unnatural weight was obvious to me- and to her- the second it had landed on the table. I didn't need to open it to know. What was unknown to me was why I suddenly resented the contents so much, when months ago I would have been proud of myself for it. Of course the pride would be covered by the natural embarrassment that would come with the teasing of my fellow Weasley grandchildren, but, in private, I would have been forced to acknowledge that I had worked hard for this. Perhaps not the hardest in the year but it was definitely close and I deserved the privilege. Until last week. Until I let myself stop being Ron and Hermione Weasley's perfect daughter and let him... I shook my head forcefully and I turned the envelope over, before pulling out the parchment bringing with it the tiny badge, which slipped into my hand in one perfect movement.
"Rosie," she shrieked. The teapot finding its way onto the work surface with a clatter. I barely had time to note the red badge, with its neat sliver of gold displaying the words Head Girl in bold writing, before she had brought me into a hug, repeating my name softly in my ear.
"Head girl. Oh we're going to need a celebration." She released me from her hug but not her grasp, holding me at arms' length to considered me. "My Rosie, Head Girl. Oh your father will be so proud. I should tell him," she announced, letting me go to hurry into the lounge. She reappeared seconds later, her head swinging round the door frame. "Or do you want to? No its your news, we can go to Diagon Alley if you want now. I'll-"
"It's alright," I interrupted her quickly, trying to smile but fearing it came out as more of a grimace. "You can tell him. It's fine I promise."
She nodded and appeared not to notice my discomfort. "Of course, I suppose you want to write to Jack tell him the news. Oh my Rosie-" She ran back and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying out the room calling for Hugo as she went.
As I took the stairs back to my bedroom, their walls pierced like a timeline of growing Weasley family members, I wondered how James had done it. He had somehow made his way through Hogwarts with a relative ease, effortlessly becoming cool, picking his own path that somehow made the family happy without overly academic achievements. He had become quickly noted in Hogwarts for his own personality, his own humour, group of friends; quickly fading the 'Harry Potter's Son' label as the years passed. I found it harder. Naturally more reserved, I allowed myself to be distracted by the prestidge, heritage and success of my family. Allowing myself to carry their expectation everywhere I went. Not just those of my family, but those of people who didn't even know me. They expected Rose Weasley, perfect, deserving of the great family she came from. I had obliged. Never stepping out of line. Until that night.
The sunlight from my bedroom window seemed blinding, reflecting of every surface, seeming to highlight the photographs that littered the surfaces with a sharp glare. Jack and I in Hogsmead, at his graduation meal, several more of family and friends, in the centre of them all one of my brother and Lily taken in the south of France the previous summer. Unopened books were strewn about the room on all subjects, letters and unused parchment filtering onto the floor from the desk. The corner of the room saw a pile of Muggle fashion magazines, as well as an extremely old record player that I always been enamoured with ever since I was young, which was a sixteenth birthday present from Nana and Grandpa Granger from the previous summer. I crossed to the player, not having the energy to change the record, laying the arm down and fiddling with the volume until the sound of one of Granddad's old Rolling Stones records filled the room.
Sitting on my bed I placed my head in my hands. It was hard to believe I was the same person than yesterday, than of a week ago or a fortnight. Surely becoming an adult was supposed to make you more responsable, not lead you into the biggest mistake of your life. I was supposed to write to Jack. My Jack, who would be home in three days, and I had betrayed him. The thought made me feel sick but then somehow excited. This unexplainable and bitter sweet excitement that I couldn't forget.
"Rosie."
I looked up to see Hugo standing at the door, his skinny arms crossed over his body, his messy brown hair evidence of someone having just woken.
"Oh, sorry." I reached down, spinning the button to mute. "Did I wake you?"
"Nah, Mum got there first, ran into the room like a bleeding hurricane Rose. Congratulations," he crossed to the bed and sat down next to me.
"Thanks." I was grateful that he didn't feel the need to tease me as the others would.
"Do you want to come to Diagon Alley and see Dad? We should leave soon," he added, "Before Mum conbusts with excitement. I haven't seen her this happy since we saw that house elf buying clothes in Diagon Alley a few years back. Hopefully Dad'll calm her down."
"Nah I'm going to write to Jack," I indicated the desk with an incline of my head.
"Sure?"
I nodded, but he didn't leave.
"Are you alright Rosie?"
"Of course."
"You just don't seem very," he paused and considered me. "Well, happy."
"Just nervous, not sure if I want the pressure of it all that's all." He gave me a look that said he didn't quite believe me but nodded anyway. "Plus if I don't go you can finally get me that birthday present."
"Yeah. What anything special?"
"Something childish," I told him. "That doesn't remind me I'm an adult."
He gave a laugh. "See you later," and with a small wave he was gone, letting the door click into place behind him.
I turned, pointing my wand at the stereo and letting the volume increase once more. The music filtering into my mind, nearly blocking out the world as I pulled a clean piece of parchment towards me and dipped my quill in the nearest bottle of ink. My quill halted at the top left hand corner, poised to write that first J as was expected of me. My eyes focusing on a photo of us in Hogsmead, his hand loosely round my shoulder outside the Three Broomsticks, both smiling and laughing knowing that summer was mere months away. It couldn't have been more than a month ago.
I closed my eyes letting the darkness block the photos of us, the badge, the letter from Neville and the blank parchment that lay expectantly on the desk until I touched the quill down and wrote his name. The music was still pounding in my ears not allowing me to hear whether or not Hugo and Mum had left yet. I could imagine them vaguely in the shop, Mum bounding into with the news, not giving Dad a single moment to process it as she continued to talk about how much of an achievement this all was and how proud they should all be of me. He would of course congratulate me later, away from her, with a simple well done and a kiss, before we would laugh at her behaviour and he would say with a faint smile. 'But she's wonderful in other ways.'
I wondered if me and Jack would ever be as happy as they were. If I would find myself where Mum was, happily married to my first love, creating a small hurricane at the news my eldest was perhaps the smartest in her year. Now Jack had left Hogwarts and had got his job at the Ministry things would begin to change. He would find himself settling into the routing of his future life and I would face the choice. Find a way to fit into his life or become separated from it. I had imagined Hogsmead visits, kissing him passionately as we had been apart for months. Letters telling him everything and planning the next year when we could be together, but now it all seemed so naive and ridiculous. Like some strange fairytale that was completely unattainable, completely unreal.
Not like that night. Finally I relented letting the memories swam to the front of my mind in sequence. The feel of his hand in mine as he pulled me away from the Ministry into the darkness. The feeling of the alcohol burning that burnt my throat, the way his hands had seemed to burn a pattern down my body as we danced. Then the kiss. That kiss that had enraptured me and blinded me to anything but him. The feeling as our skin touched, the cool night air. I gasped, feeling the air around me tighten. The world seemed to smoother me, the thoughts of this madness piercing the perfectly created world and drowning me with them.
I rushed to the small window, pushing it open and letting the air cool me as it had done that night. The breeze refreshingly hitting my face and somehow freeing me. I lent back, giving all my weight to the wall, trying to take deep breaths. I could still see Neville's green handwriting mocking me with his name and I sighed. Crossing to the desk I reached for the quill, trying desperately to focus on writing the letter rather than the growing guilt in my mind, as the ink began to dry on the parchment. For the first time in days I finally felt free as I gave into temptation and my writing flowed across the parchment despite the shaking hand. Dear Scorpius.
Eight Days Earlier
The night was cooler than expected from late July, a soft breeze rippled through the Ministry garden, leaving the leaves to rustle comfortably in its wake. The sound of the band drifted through the open doors tinted with the sounds of voices. The Ministry summer party, introduced shortly after the war to bring unity amongst leading members of the wizarding world, had become the social highlight and those in prominent families waited years to get here. It was the chance to meet people, make connections, experience adult wizarding life for so many, and yet being here made me long to be somewhere else.
Raising the champagne glass to my lip I sipped the softly. I had no idea of the time but knew it was only a matter of hours before I finally began an adult myself. Something told me I should have been inside, making use of the introductions given to me by friends or family members in preparation for next year. Two elderly couples were hovering near the open door, the two woman obviously gossiping whilst their husband waited patiently for them to quiet so they could go back inside. I raised the other hand to my hair and released the clip, letting the red curls tumble down my back into a soft mess. "Not enjoying the party Weasley."
I turned, watching as he made the way across the paving. His looked stiff and unnatural in his black dress robes. Blonde hair scruffy despite the neatness of his attire, his eyes playfully searching. He looked different than in school. Usually confident and in the midst of it all, he looked almost out of place tonight as though he preferred lingering in the shadows. "Tired of mingling I suppose," I admitted. I turned my head away from him and back to the garden.
'Mind if I sit."
I shook my head, not looking as he settled his body next to my own. I fiddled with the bracelet on my wrist, twisting it round and round, the silence uncomfortable. It wasn't that I disliked him, or that I held any resentment for him at all. I simply didn't know what to say. I didn't know him. My opinions were not my own since everything I thought I knew had come from a glance across a classroom or from idle gossip heard regularly in the corridors of Hogwarts. His reputation proceeded him always. In that respect he was much like James, he had managed to disentangle himself from the reputation of his family and create his own.
"Had a good summer?" he tried to break the silence once more. I could feel his gaze on my back and it unnerved me a little.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Not too bad. I find myself missing the company of school a little. You?" I added politely.
"Reasonable." Then the silence was back. I recommenced playing with the bracelet as he fingered the sleeves on his robes. Scorpius Malfoy, the boy was nothing short of a contradiction. Naturally popular, his rebellions were natural, friendship varied. His past girlfriends seemed neither steady or meaningless. He had a surprising intelligence. His manner seemed exciting and free and yet always controlled. "Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked.
"What?"
"You're bored. I'm bored. And don't tell me you're not," he added as I turned my head to protest. "Is this really how you want to spend a perfectly good evening? Sitting alone on a bench trying to avoid the frustration of having to be nice to a thousand people you don't know."
"A lot of them are my family," I reminded him.
"Who you see all the time," he reasoned.
I thought about it for a second, "I really shouldn't."
"Come on, we'll be back before anyone notices we're gone, and don't even try telling me you'll have more fun here. I'd find it rather offensive."
"I should be inside," I told him.
"They why aren't you?" he asked back.
I looked away from him and back over the lawn. "I can't go anywhere with you," I told him forcefully.
He smiled, almost mocking me as he spoke. "Can't not won't."
He was ridiculous. "I'm sorry, is there a difference?"
"You said you can't go, not that you wouldn't like to or that you won't eventually come anyway. Just that you shouldn't."
"I have a boyfriend." It was lame, and the words felt pathetic and I said them, stupid plucking at anything to make him leave and stop this nonsense. How was it that strangers seemed to know us better than ourselves?
"And? I'm not going to romance you Weasley." The way he said it niggled at me, as if it was the most ludicrous suggestion in the world. "If it makes you feel better I'm only asking you as you're probably the only person I know little enough about to make the night interesting."
I rolled my eyes as I turned to face him, "You do realise that makes no sense. For all you know I'm terrible boring."
He raised an eyebrow, "And are you?" he asked.
"My friends don't think so." I turned away from him once more.
"Wow," he muttered.
"What?" The anger in my own tone suprised me, only rising when he laughed in response.
"It's just you care a lot about other people's opinions of you don't you Weasley. I can't do this, my friends think that. What do you think? What do you want?"
"For to you to leave me alone," I admitted, before my mind could process the words, but he didn't flinch. He just stood calmly and straightened his dress robes with a soft smile.
"I guess I'm going it alone then. When you're still sitting here in three hours time don't say I didn't offer. Goodnight Weasley," and he turned slowly walking away. My eyes watched him go, temper still rising for a reason I couldn't understand. He had done what I'd asked for had he not.
"It's Rose," I told him quickly, before turning back away from him once more. 'You care a lot about other people's opinions of you...' He was wrong. 'I can't do this...' I was fine. I didn't need to prove anything. I took another glance towards the door and saw Aunt Ginny hovering close to it probably calling for Harry so she could come and get some air. 'What do you want?' It was now or never.
"Fine," I called after him. placing my champagne glass forcefully down on the bench and standing. "But just so you're aware," I told him, brushing down my dress with sticky palms, "You are wrong. You don't know little about me, you know absolutely nothing about me."
He removed his jacket, as I walked towards him, a mysterious but welcoming smile playing about his pale face. "Likewise," he agreed.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading so far. All messages and reviews are always appreciated.
Prologue: Of Truth and Temptation | Chapter Two: Of Mistakes and Identity