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The violent lights were flashing in front of his eyes. For a minute, he thought it had all started again but the flashes were white, followed by disturbing clicking sounds and layered with muffled words. There were loud commands, some yells of anger and finally, he felt a weight under him.
---
Dearest Daddy,
I hope this letter finds you and mum in good health even though I know the very reasons behind this letter have caused you a lot of pain. I’m fine, so please don’t worry about me. I know that I should have told you about this months ago but you would never have listened to me and I was right. When you saw us together that night, your face turned so red that I was afraid you would explode – I was right: you wouldn’t be able to accept this. The yelling, the tears, the screams, the fighting… I still can’t forget that night and the words echo in my mind sometimes, when I’m alone. I knew then that I wouldn’t have a chance to making you see reason, making you see that a name doesn’t define a person. But it’s now been over a month since that night and I know that I owe you an explanation, an explanation that you will listen to now that you’ve had time to calm down.
I was fourteen when I talked to him for the first time and I hated him, just like I was supposed to. But he didn’t hate me. He always smiled at me when we passed by in the hallways, he held the door open for me if I was behind him and he helped me with my homework when I need him to. This made me think: why should I hate him? On Valentine’s Day that year, he brought me a bouquet of enchanted roses that never wilted and that was it… that was when I fell in love with him.
I’m sorry you feel the way you do but a name means nothing me and it never will. I don’t call him ‘Malfoy’ and he doesn’t call me ‘Weasley’, we are only Rose and Scorpius… like we have always been. I don’t expect you to understand this right away but I hope that you will, soon, at least make the effort to see past blood into what really matters.
We’re close by, don’t worry. All you have to do is the say the word and we’ll come back and be a family again but together. I won’t leave him and he won’t leave me, so please don’t tell me that. I love you and mum very much and I miss Hugo terribly but without Scorpius, my life isn’t worth living. I don’t want to make the choice between my family and my love, so don’t make me. This temporary distance from all of you is hard enough for me and the thought of it being permanent hurts me. Please don’t make me choose between you two.
If you’ve changed your mind, send this owl back with your letter. If not, let the owl return with nothing – I will get your message.
Love you, always,
Rose

This was the third day in a row that Ron had just stared at the letter. By now, each word was engraved in his memory or rather, burned. Each punctuation mark, each curve in the scripture, each thought perpetuated in words had now been burned into his aging mind.

“Was I really that bad of a father?” he asked the little owl perched on the window. The owl hooted menacingly and turned his back to the elderly man.

Hermione wasn’t speaking to Ron anymore, believing that his close-mindedness drove Rose away. His tired eyes gazed out the window into the drying grass on the Burrow as he remembered first teaching his young daughter how to walk on the rough surface. She was so weak back then, barely able to hold herself up without falling down. Now, she was twenty five years old and had turned into a much stronger person than he had ever thought.

“Dad?”

Ron turned slowly and squinted to see Hugo standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The young boy was as tall as his father, though he was much more built than Ron had been back at that time.

“What?” Ron replied.

Hugo opened his mouth to say something but saw the familiar parchment between his father’s pale fingers and sighed. “She’ll be back soon,” he assured him.

Ron turned away and focused his brown eyes on the words in front of him again. “No, she won’t.”

“Then call her back,” Hugo pressed. “Tell her that she can marry Malfoy.”

Hugo suddenly turned at the shuffling sound behind him and saw that Hermione had appeared in the kitchen as well. Her dark red robes with gold trimming contrasted greatly with her reddened eyes, sunken face and straw-like hair. Her eyes were intently focused on Ron who had sensed his wife’s presence but remained fixated on the letter in front of him.

“I can’t,” Ron said weakly.

“Just call her back!” Hermione cried. Her voice was shrill and painful but her eyes blared with fury. “Tell her you don’t care!”

“I’m not going to lie to her!”

“Why? Because that’s for her own good?” Hermione had pushed past Hugo and stood three feet from Ron. “Pushing her away from us, that’s good for her? They have no money and no house! Rose hasn’t shown up for work in over three weeks! How can that be good for her?”

There were tears spilling out of Hermione’s drained face as she sat down in the chair opposite Ron and buried her face his in her arms. Hugo looked at his father with disdain as he put his arm over his mother’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

“She’ll be fine, mum,” he promised her.

“Malfoy has money,” Ron added harshly. “He can keep them happy until he decides he’s too good for her and then he’ll throw her back out.”

“Malfoy has nothing!” Hermione snapped. “His father announced the heir to the Malfoy Estate this morning! Habeas Rosier is getting the Malfoy fortune! Scorpius Malfoy has nothing!”

Ron sunk his head low but didn’t remove his eyes from the paper. “I can’t let her do this,” he said angrily. “She can’t be a Malfoy.”

---
There were figures looming over his limp body. He couldn’t quite make out their features but there were two men and a woman. Their voices were as distant as all the others despite their apparent proximity to him and all he could hear was the faint buzzing. The lights were still flashing violently above him but this time, he knew it was not the same.

His blurry vision had decreased and he could now make out the huge crowds gathered around the small house. As he eyes followed the trail of black dust to the ruins that now sat on the fields, a high pitched scream filled his head. He could hear the screams and the darkness in his eyes began to descend upon him.

The woman began to cry and her salty tears pressed against his cold cheek when she threw herself onto his body and held his face in her arms. She kissed his cheek violently and he could see her lips moving while she spoke but nothing remained his head except for the scream.
---
Father,
A month ago, you told me to make my choice and I have. I choose Rose. I choose her above the Malfoy inheritance, above Malfoy Manor, above a position at the Ministry… above you. I understand what my decision means for me and I know that I am not welcome back at the Manor anymore and so, you may vacate my room and dispose of my things.
I hope in time that you will see how thin blood really is but perhaps, you should first see how much I love Rose. You and I are very different people and I’ve come to realize that it may not be such a bad thing after all. If being like you means being tied down to the actions of my ancestors then I am glad that I am not a true Malfoy. I’m sorry to have disappointed you.
Scorpius

“There’s still no word from him,” Draco told his wife as he saw her head buried over the only letter Scorpius had written them in months.

“Go away,” Pansy replied. Her voice was choked and frail.

“You were against this too,” he replied coldly. “We agreed that he couldn’t marry a Weasley.”

The aged, dark haired woman raised her head and glared at her pale husband. “Not at this price,” she said, flinging the letter at Malfoy’s feet. “Never at this price.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Draco assured her. “You know as well as I do, they have no money. They’ll run out eventually and come begging us for more.”

Pansy let out a cold, hollow laugh that deepened the circles in her eyes and sunk her face. “You’re just like your father,” she said.

“He was a powerful man.”

“And at what cost?” Pansy shrieked, standing up. “Your father was lucky enough to have an easily-manipulated son. Our son thinks for himself. Today you may hold the upper hand, but soon, you will crumble like every other powerful man and when you do, people will go out of their way to step on you.”

“I will never fall,” he replied.

“Then someone will push you.”

---

One of them men had gone away, leaving the first man and woman by his side. It had taken him a flash of darkness to remember everything that had happened: the fire, the screams, the burns, the night.

The screaming in his head had stopped when the memories rushed back to him. Now, all he could see was darkness slowly covering his eyes while the woman continually sobbed on his chest and the man sat beside her.

The second man came back again and this time he spoke. With the screams gone, he could hear every word.

“It was the Carrows,” the man said.

The name sounded familiar. Dark hooded figures began to form in his memory and he remembered the flash of bright yellow light as the door had burst open. He tried to dismiss the memory as the woman lifted herself off of his chest and turned to the first man.

“What have you done?!” she shrieked.

“It wasn’t his fault,” the second man said. “They broke out of Azkaban weeks ago-”

The man stopped talking and his head turned towards the ruins where eight men were piling out, carrying a large bag in this arms. There was a scream, though this one was real and everyone else heard it too. A brown haired woman ran forward to the bag and cried at the sight of the contents within. The second man hesitated for a fraction of a second before running towards the bag himself.

“Rose!” the brown haired woman yelled.

The name sent a furrow of electric shocks through his own body. His sinking mind throbbed loudly and his heart pounded on his chest, registering the name that it worshipped.

“They found her,” the first man said, still standing over his body.

“This is your doing, Malfoy!”

Another man had come into the view. This man had red hair, and his aged features only enhanced the glare in his eyes. He came over to the first man and punched him heard against the jaw. The first man fell to the ground and within moments of his fall, he whipped out his wand and shot a jet of blue light at the red haired man. The black haired woman, who had been sprawled on his chest, drew out her own wand and slapped the first man.

“This is your fault,” she cried to the first man, who had blonde hair. “Draco, you can’t blame this one anyone. Don’t you dare.”

Draco. The name registered in his own mind but this time, instead of shocks, a wave of anger flushed through his injured body. It was the name of his father.

“You did this to both Rose and Scorpius!”

That was his name.

The brown haired woman came running towards the red-haired man and as he moved his hand forward to comfort her, she moved away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said coldly, though the tears were still fresh in her eyes.

“Do you think this is what I wanted?!” the red haired man yelled. “Do you think I wanted to stand here and watch them drag out my daughter’s body?” There were tears in his eyes too.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” the black haired woman said, his mother.

Hermione… Hermione Granger.

Hermione shook her head silently and looked down at his own body. “Is…is he alright?”

“He’s alive… but there’s no hope.”

His mother turned to his father and looked at him with pure disgust. “I told you that you’d fall,” she spat bitterly. “Now stand here and watch your own son die. Stand here and watch his life fall right through your fingers and know that you couldn’t stop this.”

“I didn’t want this!” his father cried. “I loved him; he’s my son!”

“The Carrows broke in through the back door,” another voice said. It was the first man who had been there with his parents. It was Hugo. “This is where Rose and Scorpius were hiding from us…The Carrows wanted a place to hide and Scorpius and Rose denied them one. They said they didn’t want to have anything to do with the dark side anymore.”

“You did this to him!” Pansy cried. Her voice was shrill and her eyes had sunken deeper into her face. She wept against Draco’s chest but her eyes were focused on her son’s body.

Draco moved over his wife and bent down beside his son. Scorpius could see the pale skin and grey eyes that he had once feared as a child. Today, they held nothing but fear… fear that the only son he ever had would die before his eyes.

“You’re my son,” he said softly so that only Scorpius could hear him. “I don’t know if you can hear me but you’re my son and I love you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.”

The darkness began closing in on his eyes and the pain in his arms and legs began to fade. He was flying…the wind beneath his arms had lifted him off the ground with such zeal that he wondered if everything had been a dream. He felt calm, quiet and peaceful. There was nothing else in the world but him.

Then with one sharp breath, he felt the life go out of him.

“Scorpius,” the sweet voice said to him.

“Are we both alive?”

She shook her head. Her dark brown eyes were soft and gleaming and her red hair was just as he remebered it. “We’re both dead.”

“Then why are you so happy?”

“Because we can be together.”
---

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