A quick update… the plot gets even more thicker from here. Even I can’t make heads or tails of it.
CHAPTER 5: MEMORIES
Absolute brilliance by visenya.@tda!
Rhea was dreaming. Again. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t the memories of Rose Weasley she saw through her eyes. She saw herself.
She was standing on her balcony, looking at the Eiffel Tower in the distant. The breeze blew and she inhaled the smell of fresh cookies. Her mom was baking. She turned and ran towards the kitchen, hair swinging in its ponytail.
“Yum, cookies! J’taime, maman!” she laughed and sat on the stool next to the counter.
“Patience, chère.” Her mom said, the smile crinkling her eyes, which was so similar to Rhea’s. She brushed her hair back, which was a fading blonde, and set the plate on the counter. “Here you go. Cookies.” Her mom laughed.
“You are the best, maman.” Rhea laughed again and took a bite of the cookie. The chocolate melted in her mouth. “It’s great, maman.” She said with her mouth full.
“Bad habit, Rhea. Never talk with your mouth full.” Her mom chided her. Rhea nodded. It wasn’t the first time her mom had scolded her for that; and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
The door-bell rang, startling the two, who were eating in comfortable silence. “I’ll get it.” Rhea jumped off the stool and opened the front door. “Welcome home, Papa.” She greeted her father, who stood outside with a wrapped present in his hand. “How come you are so early today?”
“How can I miss my little baby’s birthday?” her father smiled, his British accent contradicting Rhea and her mother’s French accent.
“I’m not a baby anymore, Papa, I’m twenty!” Her Papa laughed at her pout.
“But you are still my baby.” He reminded her. She smiled back and made way for him to get in.
Her mother greeted her father with a kiss on his cheek, which he didn’t return. Her mom smiled sadly and pushed the cookie plate towards her father. “Want some cookies, dear? I made them, fresh out of the oven.” Her eyes begged her father to take one. For Rhea’s sake. They didn’t want Rhea to know about their fights, even though she hears them all. Her father sighed. “Maybe after having a bath.” Her mother nodded and took the plate back to the kitchen.
“Maman? Are you okay?”
Rhea found her mother sitting on the garden chair, alone and crying. She knew what had happened. Her mother and father had yet another fight. It’s been like that ever since she returned from Beauxbatons after graduation. It made her wonder how things were when she was safe at Beauxbatons.
“Of course I’m okay, chère.” Her mom said, wiping her eyes. Rhea sat next to her. “Tout ira bien, la maman. Everything will be okay.” She assured her mother.
“Bien sûr.” Her mom agreed. They sat there, again in comfortable silence.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me, maman?” Rhea hugged her mother tight. She didn’t want to go to England. She hated it there. It was too cold, always raining. She preferred Paris.
“I’ll be fine, chère.” Her mom returned her hug. “Just listen to what your father says, will you do that for me? Promettre?”
“Promettre.” She promised. “Anything for you, maman.”
“That’s my fille douce.” She said her goodbye and went to meet her father, who was impatiently waiting for her. “What took you so long?” he asked.
“Désolé, père.” She said, knowing that the fact that her father didn’t know French irritated him.
“Don’t speak in French. We are going to England.”
“Yes, Papa.” She followed her father to their car.
The flight to England was long and silent. Her father did not speak a word to her, and went on speaking to some Hermione on the phone. A lot has changed in a year. A year ago, when she was twenty, her father was sweet towards her. Yes, her mother and father were having problems back then, but they made her feel loved. Now, her father was slowly pulling away from her.
The flight was long, and the car ride was longer. Her father was still chatting away on the phone. Rhea was impatient- her father was a wizard, surely he would have preferred apparating than the Muggle transportation. Maybe he was trying to keep his word to her mother that he won’t use magic to travel. Her mother did not like magic-it made her feel strange.
She was to live in a flat. That was the final straw. “What are you playing at, papa? First, the long, Muggle transportation, now I have to live I a flat? You promised Maman that you would take care of me!”
“Shut up, Rhea! You are not with your mother anymore; you aren’t living in her luxurious mansion anymore! You are here with me, and I say that you will do what I say.” Her father looked livid. What had happened to him?
“Papa, I…” she trailed off when she remembered the promise she gave to her mother. “Yes, Papa.” She looked down and went inside the small room. The only room in the dingy place. She knew that her father wasn’t rich like her mom, but surely he must have had enough money to rent a decent place for her.
The days went long and dreary. She woke up to the rain and went to sleep to the rain. It was inescapable- she had already said her goodbyes to the sun.
Her father didn’t make her work for the first month she was there. She spoke with her mother every day, lying about the condition she was kept in. Her father came thrice a day with food which wasn’t enough for even one. Even though she was twenty-one, Rhea Sanchez was innocent and childlike- she suffered in silence.
“Wake up Rhea.” Her Papa called. It was the first time he came before she was awake.
“Yes, Papa?” she stood up from her bed.
“It’s time for your job.” He said impatiently. He waited until she was ready and apparated.
A shrill tone took Rhea out of the ocean of memories she was trapped in. Rhea’s eyes flew opened as she looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. She groaned and cut the alarm off, rolling on to her stomach.
Would you explain what that was? The strange voice was back yet again. At first, you go on a date with my bloody COUSIN, dance around after that and then those memories? They aren’t mine!
Rhea was shocked. It felt like Rose was talking to her. That made no sense. Wasn’t she Rose? Wasn’t she Rose Weasley’s soul, even though the body wasn’t Rose Weasley?
Everybody’s soul lives on. It never dies, Rhea.
‘It’s talking to me!’ Rhea thought.
I’m a female, you know.
This was getting even stranger. Her life was turning dark. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She was Rose-then how can Rose be talking to her?
J’taime: I love you
Désolé, père: sorry, father
Bien sûr: of course
Tout ira bien, la maman: Everything will be okay, my mother.
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