IV. BLOODLINES

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(edit: 7/3/20

i am fucking done with comments that are hateful to harry, hermione, and ron. i have a longer note at the end of the chapter about it, but simply put if i see any hate towards them i will delete it and i will block you so think before you comment)

CHAPTER FOUR.
BLOODLINES

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Rosalie seemed to blend in the atmosphere of the Burrow, hiding herself in the shadows and making sure not to step out of line. The girl made sure to keep quiet, spend most of her time in her room, and say her words with extreme caution, knowing that they were analyzing everything she said.

         Mrs. Weasley was yelling from the top of lungs most of the time, screaming at Fred and George, making sure everyone did all their chores to help with the wedding, and much more. The children did their worked, usually played a little Quidditch when they could, and had many conversations with each other – excluding Rosalie.

         She spoke most to Ginny, who seemed to be more accepting of her than others. Rosalie found herself crowding around the youngest Weasley whenever she needed to, which was most every occasion.

         Everything was peaceful at the Burrow. They played, laugh, and ultimately tried to forget about the war that was looming. And Rosalie had had no further contact with Voldemort or other Death Eaters, much to her liking.

         There was nothing, only silence. She knew that Voldemort was angry though, Harry Potter still lived, even though he had attempted to kill him. How she was glad to miss that meeting where Voldemort would kill one of his followers who went on the mission for failing him – for letting the boy get away.

         Rosalie knew, even if she was present for that, she wouldn't be killed. He still needed her, he stilled needed her, and maybe that was worse. Knowing that the only reason she wasn't dead was because she was still needed – Rosalie didn't want to be needed.

         Being needed meant only one thing – and that was not life or liberty. It meant being trapped, suffocating under the pressure that Voldemort gave her and knowing that she was useful – that she meant something to him. And it had been years, only two though, that she had been needed by him, and Rosalie could say that those two years were the worst of her life.

         And the only person who understood her was Draco Malfoy. The other – children from Slytherin – knew what they always had to do in life; become a Death Eater. They did, every one of them did, but they didn't love it like their parents. But Draco had more of an understanding. Unlike the others of his house, Draco had seen what it was like to be on the bad side of Voldemort and knew that everything he spoke about – everything he did – was wrong.

         Though, all of the peace ended when they saw a tall wizard, with grizzled hair and strong cheekbones, looking like he hadn't eaten in days, appear at the Weasleys' door.

         And it was none other than the Minister of Magic; Rufus Scrimgeour.

         "Bloody hell," one of the twins (George?) muttered, "what's the Minister of Magic doing here?"

         Rosalie herself wondered, her heart racing as she thought of more dark reasons as to why he would stop by. Though, she had to remind herself that they had already infiltrated the Ministry, that they weren't looking for Death Eaters like herself.

         "Dunno," Ron spoke, "But something tells me he didn't come to give away the bride."

         It was only seconds later that they welcomed the Minister inside, not asking why he was there as the he gave them a sick smile, "I'm here to see Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Miss Allen, please."

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