A Missing Weasley

Just something I came up with. If anyone has some ideas about this story, or would like to adopt it, just drop me a line.

marti


A MISSING WEASLEY


She was in her late twenties, early thirties, this strawberry-blonde woman standing in the doorway of the Burrow. She held a paisley, worn valise stuffed as full as a winter sausage in her right hand, a blue purse in her left. The woman wore a green utility robe with no hat on this rare nice summer day as she waited for someone to answer the door for her.

“Hello, there, young lady.” Arthur, home alone with the two youngest of his children while Molly helped Hermione and Harry get settled with Remus at Grimmauld Place, opened the door. He didn’t fear an attack as the doorway was warded to allow only entry of Weasleys and Harry Potter. Everyone else needed to be invited in. And no spells could be cast on anyone inside the house to ‘imperio’ them into letting an intruder in. It was quite the ingenious spell Hermione had discovered.

“Hello. I’m looking for a Mr. Arthur Weasley. He was a friend of my mother, Henrietta Malfoy.” She said in a low contralto, a soft soothing sound that reminded Arthur immediately of the woman she mentioned.

“I’m Arthur, and I remember Henrietta. How is she?” Henrietta had been a distant cousin of Lucius, from a lesser branch of the Malfoy family. She had grown up in France and only attended her final year at Hogwarts because her father had moved to London for a year to work with the English branch of the family. He hadn’t seen Henrietta again after their graduation ceremony.

“Mama passed away a few weeks ago. I was going through some of her things and came across some papers and journals of hers from her year at Hogwarts.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss?”

“I’m Amaris Malfoy, sir. I think I may be your daughter.”

Arthur gaped at the young woman and stepped away from the door. He never thought he’d ever be confronted with something like this.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, sir. I know this comes as a shock, but Mother died before she could tell me who my birth father was, although I had long figured out that he was someone from her time at Hogwarts. Some of her journals, her diaries mentioned you and that you’d been….together once. I just wanted to come find out. I’ll be going, sir. I don’t want to cause any trouble.” Amaris started to turn away, but Arthur reached through the ward and held her arm. She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“Wait! This is all quite unexpected, Miss Mal—Amaris. Why don’t we have a cup of tea and figure things out?” Arthur let her go and turned away from the door, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his sleeve, forgetting the wards on the door. With a muttered curse, he turned back to find the woman walking through the door with no problem, following him into the Burrow’s kitchen.

She was a Weasley.

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She didn’t know what she had done and he didn’t tell her. She waited just inside the door, not wanting to presume anything by sitting at his kitchen table. She hadn’t meant to startle him the way she had, but she’d been nervous and flustered. Now, he’d be on the defensive and probably wouldn’t be as informative as she’d hoped.

“Maybe I should just go home, sir. I didn’t come here to hurt you or your family.”

“You’re not, Amaris. I’m going to assume that your birthday is around February or March?”

“March fifth, sir. I was a bit late, Mama said.” She watched him as he puttered about the homey kitchen with ease. His wife must allow him in her domain occasionally.

“Take a seat. We have a bit to discuss and thankfully some quiet time in which to do it.” Arthur thought of his two youngest out back playing one on one Quiddich.

“Merci.” Amaris sat gratefully, dropping her valise on the floor next to her. She had packed this morning and Apparated to London after reading her mother’s final Hogwarts journal, the one for the month of June, the month in which she’d been conceived. It hadn’t taken her long to track down Arthur Weasley, there’d only been one in the Wizards Directory for England, thankfully. “I did not come to be a troublemaker.”

“No, you came to find out if it’s true that I’m your father. Only a test at the hospital could tell us definitively, but, I believe that I am. Etta hadn’t been with any other man before me, and I don’t think she was with anyone afterwards either.”


“According to her diary, she wasn’t. Is it true? You weren’t in love with each other?”

Arthur waved his wand and had the teapot pour them each a cup, following them to the table to sit opposite to the young woman. He smiled at her confusion. “No. I’ve always been in love with Molly. Your mother and I were great friends, but a night got away with us, a couple of weeks before graduation. I wish she’d told me about you, though.”

“She knew you were going to marry your girlfriend. She didn’t want to interfere. I shouldn’t be here. Mama didn’t want to hurt you; I shouldn’t be here doing the same thing.”

Arthur rested his hand on her forearm before she could rise out of her chair. She looked down at it and sighed, dropping back down into the kitchen chair.

“She did me a grave disservice by not telling me I’d sired a child either. We’re both at fault, Amaris.” Arthur smiled kindly at her and nodded to her to drink some of her tea. She sighed and did as bade, sipping slowly. She wasn’t used to drinking tea; it was coffee she was addicted to, but caffeine was caffeine, and right now she needed a shot of something.

“I think she was worried about the Dark Lord. She was a Malfoy and most of her family was loyal to him and his kind. According to her diary, it was safer for me to be a Malfoy with no allegiance than my father’s daughter.”

“She was probably right. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? You’re twenty-seven then?”

“Yes, sir. I finished University three years ago and started a small apothecary in my hometown. I’m only a few hours of study away from my Potions Mastery.” She stated proudly, her French accent slipping and becoming more pronounced. “I have written a few articles for ‘ars alchemia’, but they weren’t widely accepted.”

“Who’s watching your store while you’re here?” He motioned to her bag by her leg. “I’m assuming you’re staying in England for a few days at least?”

“Yes, I have a room reserved at the Leaky Cauldron. I decided to come see you on the spur of the moment, sir. Again, I’m sorry for barging in on you and your family.”

“At least, you’re a good surprise. The last few months have not been pleasant.” Arthur sighed heavily and finished his tea. He waved his wand and a plate of biscuits appeared between the two of them. As if summoned by the smell of sweets, Arthur smiled as his youngest son appeared almost instantly at the backdoor, practically salivating. He shook his head and urged his son to his side. He stood and put one arm around his son’s shoulder, hugging him proudly.

“Amaris, this is my youngest son, Ronald. He’s going to be in his seventh year at Hogwarts this year. Ronald, this is Amaris Malfoy, from France. Her mother and I were good friends in school.”

Ron drew back as he was moving to shake the woman’s hand. He frowned at his father and her. “A Malfoy! One of Draco’s ilk!”

“No, Ron. She’s from France and hasn’t had any contact with her mother’s cousins here. Here, take some biscuits and bring some to your sister. When your mother gets home, I want you two and Harry to go outside. Mum and I have some things to discuss with Miss Malfoy.”

Ron watched her through narrowed eyes as he left the kitchen, his hand near his wand. Once out of the kitchen he ran across the yard, tripping over the gnomes to get to his sister putting away their brooms.
“Ginny, Dad has a Malfoy in the kitchen. Have any extendable ears on you?” He reached out to his sister.

She nodded and handed over the spy-ware their older twin brothers had created.

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