#I genuinely think these people would faint if they read civil war. the ORIGINAL civil war about the superhero registration act

[tin-can-iron-man]

You ever see posts about how a character is bad and you're just like "bro that isn't even their final form" (and I still love them)

[yourmajestythequeenn]

Confessions: Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Truth be Told

Warnings: Slow Burn

Pairings: Rose Weasley x Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter x OC

~*~

My heartbeat coincides with my footsteps on the frigid stone floor.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

My mind races as I think of all the possible punishments McGonagall could conjure up for us.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Scrubbing the Great Hall’s floor with toothbrushes and bleach.

Or cleaning the Owlery.

Or sorting past student’s files.

Or reading Hogwarts, A History aloud.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

A soft hooting of an owl causes me to glance upward, a tawny owl lands on a sconce above my head. A thick letter clutched in its beak. I reach for the parchment and the owl loosens its grip, letting it fall into my hand. I tuck the letter into the pocket of my filthy Quidditch robes and continue on. The owl gives one last hoot and glides down the opposite hall.

As I near the stone gargoyle it comes to life and commands, "Password."

I moisten my lips with the tip of my tongue before speaking. "Dragon Heartstring."

The gargoyle nods sharply, letting me pass. The huge oak door creaks open as if it was expecting me. When I step into the empty cavernous room it slams behind me, causing me to start.

I circle around the cavernous office, admiring the artifacts McGonagall had collected over the eons.

I was gaze at the portrait of Dumbledore, imagining what it would have been like to meet him, the real him. Not just a talking painting.

"Rose Nymphadora Weasley," a sly voice cackles from above my head. I look up, expecting Peeves to come flying out of nowhere and scare my robes off. But there is nothing.

"Peeves!" I shout. "I’m not in the mood!"

"Still as feisty as ever, I see," the voice drawls on without leading me to its source.

"I said, I’m not in the mood for your games! Come out and fight like a…like a-." I trail off puzzled.

"My dear, I’m sure you are bright enough to realize a hat, even a magical one such as myself, cannot fight." The voice chuckles, amused.

My eyes finally rest on a shelf very high on the wall where the sorting hat rests, faded and tattered, but still annoying as ever. I roll my eyes dramatically.

"Up to no good again?" the hat speaks. "You are most definitely a trouble maker, and a good one at that. I should have placed you in Slytherin, the way I had originally intended."

"I belong in Gryffindor," I growl though clenched teeth. "Where all Weasleys belong."

"I disagree, young one." He advises wisely. "Anyone can be placed anywhere. I disregard family traditions. What’s in your heart is what really matters."

"Whatever," I groan. I turn away from the talking accessory, rolling my eyes at the daft idea of myself in Slytherin.

"Merrow!" A cry of pain erupts at my feet. A small tiger striped cat scrambles away from my clumsy feet, which have trodden on its tail.

Bloody cat should learn to stay away from people’s feet.

"Well usually people actually look where they are going Miss Weasley." McGonagall’s annoyed voice startles me.

"McGonagall!" I cry, clutching my chest. Honestly, it’s like people want me to have a heart attack!

"Miss Weasley," McGonagall continues. "There is another reason I brought you up here, it’s something we need to discuss alone." My heart flutters nervously. "As you know we regularly sensor the mail going in and out of Hogwarts, ever since the war that is, and this one caught my eye and I know you have it with you, you need to read it now."

She gestures to my robe pocket. I slowly take out the creamy envelope sealed in red wax with the Weasley family crest. I break the seal and unfold the thick parchment. A neat but curly handwriting greets me, handwriting I would know anywhere. My mum’s.

Rose,

I’m sorry I haven’t been writing, but things at home are chaotic. You’ve been at school a month and haven’t written either, but I assume things have been busy for you up there as well. I hope things are going well for you. Are you keeping up in your studies? How’s Quidditch? Please don’t break your record of detentions again. At least try and be civil with the Malfoy boy. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your Father and I have separated…

This takes me completely by surprise. Yes, my parents fight pretty much constantly, but over stupid little things, and they always made up. Always. Tears sting my eyes, but I force them not to fall.

Rose, I know this is a shock to you please stay calm and at least let me explain. Your father and I have not been on the best terms for a while now. While working at the ministry with your Uncle Harry I have developed a friendship with some people who were not on the winning side of the war. I have come to know them as changed and genuine people. I believe that Harry feels the same, although, your father is very stubborn and refuses to believe that without the influence of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, that people can change. I have especially grown fond of Mr. Malfoy, which is where your father drew a very uncrossable line in our marriage. I love and adore you, and even though I am not sure where your father and I are at in our relationship, we both love and adore you. Please, don’t be angry. If you need to talk or write, I am at the Burrow with your grandparents until your father gets some perspective. Remember dear, family heritage doesn’t define who you are. Just because your father loathes the Malfoys doesn’t mean you have to as well.

As always,

Mum

By this time tears are streaming down my cheeks. The letter drops from my shaking hands. I hang my head in despair and little droplets splash on my filthy Quidditch pants.

"My dear…" McGonagall starts, she looks worried. "I know your parents, they’ll come around."

Before I can say anything back the door is pushed open from behind me.

"Ah, good you’re all here," McGonagall stands, welcoming the newcomers. "Now sit," she commands.

"Rosie?" I hear Al’s voice question from behind me. I crane my neck to look at him. His eyes widen slightly when my puffy, tear-stained face comes into view.

"Tell you later," I whisper, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I turn back to McGonagall who looks very stern. I feel Al’s hands rest on each of my shoulders.

"Well I assume you all know why you’re here." McGonagall purses her thin lips.

"No! I most certainly do not!" my best friend shrieks.

No, not Al. He doesn’t have the vocal ability to shriek like someone is cutting off his hands with a butter knife.

"Miss Weasley, you were involved, therefore you will be punished just like everyone else," McGonagall enforces.

Dom makes a harrumphing sound as she sinks into her chair.

McGonagall goes on to say how irresponsible, inconsiderate, and insensitive teenagers we are and how she is very disappointed in us and our parents will be notified. Blah, blah, blah.

All I want to do is crawl back to my dorm and drown myself in misery.

I cannot believe how much of a git my father is, I love him, but I cannot believe…

I slump in my chair and try to black out McGonagall’s ranting. Everyone else is doing the same thing or amusing themselves. Dom is painting her toenails with genuine unicorn glitter. Trevor is snoring softly in his chair. Lysander opened a pack of caldron cakes and is dropping crumbs all over the ancient carpet, swatting Lorcan’s hungry hand every so often. Al begins to play with my hair, twisting it into knots. And I end up chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"Are you insolent children even listening to me?" McGonagall growls.

At once everyone becomes alert, trembling under her wrath. Lysander even starts choking on his snack, sending bits of cake flying.

"Now everyone meet in the Great Hall tomorrow for detention. Out!" McGonagall hisses. Not needing to be told twice, we high tail it out of there.

As soon as I step off the last step, I’m knocked to the ground by a torrent of pink taffeta "Oooofff." The lovely sound escapes my mouth as I hit the cold stone.

"Oh Merlin, Rose! Are you alright? We saw James fall, then you faint! Then we heard from Trevor that you guys were going to be chewed out by McGonagall. Me and Vinnie have been waiting forever out here! What did she say? Are you in trouble? Is she going to send you to Azkaban?" Juliet blurts out in one breath.

"Whoa, calm down Jules, no one is going to Azkaban," I say, sliding out from under her.

Lavinia comes forward and offers me her hand, a sorrowful look on her fragile face.

"Rosie…" Al speaks earnestly. I’d forgotten he was still here. "We have to get back to the common room."

"Fine," I groan, heaving myself off the floor. "Let’s go." But Al has frozen, his gaze peers over my shoulder. I look over. He and Juliet have locked eyes, it’s as if they are staring into each other’s souls. "Al." I snap my fingers in front of his paralyzed form.

"Huh?" He snaps out of his hypnotism.

I make an animalistic grunt and grab his hand, dragging him down the corridor.

*~*

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I truly appreciate it! I read all comments and feedback is encouraged! 

See you next chapter, 

Em