A/N: This is for round 12 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm your friendly Chaser 2 for the Caerphilly Catapults.
The prompt that I got for this round was to write a TRAGIC story about NEXT GEN CHARACTERS.
My optional prompts are: 4. (style) letter!fic (I really really hope this counts), 7. (song) "When Love and Hate Collide" - Def Leppard. (quote) "It's easy to make a decision if you already know what the outcome will be." - Attack on Titan
Dear Mr. Weasley,
I apologize in advance for any distress this causes you. I promise you, I mean no disrespect or malice.
Sir, I'm writing to you about a very urgent matter. It's urgent because—well, it's not really urgent. Definitely not in the way you might think! It's really just me that's urgently writing this letter. The point is, I've been thinking about this a long time—years, actually, and I've decided that it's time to tell you something very important—well, important to me. It's about your daughter, sir. Well…
You see, I have to confess I've been a bit of a coward for the last three years. They say it's easy to make a decision if you already know what the outcome will be, but I have been putting off writing this letter for as long as—the last three years. I guess I'd always hoped I could do it under better circumstances. Or in person. In person might be even better. When you send a letter, you open yourself up to Howlers. But then, it might be much, much worse, if I told you this face to face.
What I mean to say—the "this" that I have to tell you—is that I very much would like to become better acquainted with you, sir. I hear from Rose that you are a fan of wizard chess. I share this enthusiasm, though I'm sure I'm not as good at it as you are, sir. Albus and Rose both report that you saved Mr. Potter's life by beating Professor McGonagall's enchanted chess game at the age of eleven. I mean, really! I think that's wicked! Definitely better than I can do at 17. Still, I think I would like to play wizard chess with you, sir, as odd as that may sound. Really, honestly, I would. I enjoy the game, and Rose and I play all the time. She beats me a lot, but that's probably because she learned from you, sir.
However, the fact of the matter is that I would like to be allowed in the Weasley house at some point over the summer. It's not really about getting to know you, sir, actually. It's more about getting to know your family—getting to know them—you-them better, I mean.
As I'm sure you know—as I hope you know—as you must know—as you know, Albus and Rose and I have become very close friends since first year. What you probably don't know, is that we've become more than close friends—not that—not Albus, just—just Rose and I. That is, your daughter and me. We…we've been dating, sir. And that is why I'm writing you this letter.
Now, I know exactly what you're going to say. I know how you feel about my family—my father especially, but I'm sure you could have a change of heart about us, if you would only change your mind—if I could make you change your mind. I do seem to make Rose happy. At least, I hope I do.
I know this letter may come as quite a shock—it must come as quite a shock—it will come as quite a shock. However, if there were ever a time and a place and a reason to throw caution to the wind, it is now, sir. I love your daughter. The very thought of being deprived of her company is terrifying. I thrive on her smile. Her laugh is so melodic. This love is a love that I believe in, and I had to try—I have to try—I've got to do everything in my power to make you believe that I am in earnest, and I will not give up easily.
P.S. Please note that if the contents of this letter distress you and you wish to punish Rose for dating the son of a traitor… I really wish you wouldn't, sir. This was all my doing. Well, some of it was her doing—she chose me, I mean. But this letter was my idea, and mine alone. If you do not intend to accept me into your family, even temporarily, or on a trial basis, please don't mention to Rose that I wrote this letter. I don't think she would ever forgive me, and I'm sure she will have thought of ten ways to phrase it better than I can, which might change your mind.
Ron Weasley had barely finished reading the letter that had arrived in the post that day—and notably had skipped the post-script—when he yelled through the house, "ROSE!"
Rose, who had just finished unpacking after her seventh and final year at Hogwarts and was currently sitting on her bed talking with her mother, jumped at the sound of her name. She and Hermione looked at each other, before they went dashing off to find Rose's father, and the source of the angry sound.
They arrived in the den to see Ron pacing the floor in front of the empty fireplace.
"No!" Ron said immediately. "This can't go on. It's bloody ridiculous that you expect me to believe that he's any less worthless than his miserable, ferrety father. And if you think I'm going to let you keep on seeing him, you have another thing coming, my girl."
Rose shared another glance with her mother. "What?" she asked.
Ron shoved the somewhat-crumpled letter in his daughter's face. She and her mother read it quickly in silence.
"Wha—?" Rose said to herself, first, then said to her father, "He's not worthless!"
"He's a Malfoy," her father spat, "Of course he's worthless."
"But if you only gave him a chance, I'm sure you—"
"The only chance he's got with me is the chance to live if he never comes within a Quidditch pitch's distance from you," Ron said.
"That's not fair!" she cried, feeling more childish than she'd felt in years.
"Don't take that tone with me, Rose Weasley! You'll regret it!"
Before she could burst into tears, Rose ran from the room, hearing only the beginning of a shouting match between her parents before she reached her room and locked herself in.