TITLE: Rough Landings
AUTHOR: Nightfall (aka nightfalltwen at Livejournal)
BETA: Tarotemp
NOTES: Written for a Hogwarts Elite fiction contest before DH came out in print. Meant to be a series of very short chapters, but never got expanded.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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The problem with travelling by portkey is that even the purest of pureblood wizards and witches, who have been doing it for years, have their rough landings. Now Susan Bones wasn't your average pureblood witch. There were a number of Muggle stains in her background. That, including their staunch support of Albus Dumbledore (and later, Harry Potter), had put the Bones' in a dangerous spotlight and the Dark Lord had practically wiped her entire family out.
But blood status aside, Susan was one of those witches that no matter how often she used a portkey, she could only count the number of times she landed on her feet (instead of her arse) on one hand.
China was, of course, no exception.
The shower in the small hotel was a sad excuse for a plumbing fixture. Susan let the water run for a bit to heat up and, shucking her towel, she turned to examine her posterior. The purpled bruise was only just now starting to lighten to a rather unattractive shade of yellowish-green and it had already been a week since she'd arrived in Beijing. The landing had been spectacular though. One to write home about.
Except Susan didn't write home.
There was to be no contact.
...
The light in the kitchen was the only illumination in the house. Susan stood in the darkness listening to her parents squabble. She hated it when they fought. And more and more often it was over the subject of her.
"If Edgar had had the chance, he would have made the kids leave." Susan's father curled his rough hands around a mug. "I've already lost him and Amelia. You know they're going to try for us next. We have to send her away."
"But She's our baby." Susan's mum was crying. Tears were no stranger to the Bones' house as of late. "For how long?"
"I don't know. But I want her as far away as possible."
...
After her shower, which had consisted of either too hot or too cold water and soap in her eyes, Susan went back to her room and dug through the few purchases she had made while visiting the Xiushui Market. Unfamiliar with the concept of haggling for purchases, Susan probably paid far too much for the red qípáo, but she couldn't manage to take her eyes off it and unnerved by the quick unfamiliar language, Susan had thrust a fistful of yuan at the old woman selling the dresses and gone back to the hotel.
"Oi Susie!" A loud hammering thump on her door caused Susan to nearly jump out the window. "We're takin' a key to the Quong Po Dragon Reserve to see them feed the Fireballs! Wanna come?"
Susan thought about it for a moment. Several moments to be precise. She'd not spoken much with the other residents since arriving. Most were from North America, here on a scholarship to study potions or healing arts. Something their Ministries liked to do. The voice on the other side of the door belonged to such a person. His father was a wand manufacturer in California and he'd grown up with little to no fear of Voldemort or the Dark Mark being above his house.
Looking down at herself, Susan smoothed her hands over the silk of her dress. She ought to change and go with them. She ought to make friends. She ought to stop thinking that she'd be going back to England tomorrow.
She ought to unpack her things from the suitcase she'd brought.
But the words drifting up from her lungs changed somewhere in the back of her throat. "No, thank you, Kyle. I'm just going to head out… Perhaps another time?"
He didn't answer. She knew he wouldn't. She'd been giving them "no" since arriving, so why would he make a second attempt?
...
"Dad, I don't want to go," said Susan, arms crossed and feet firmly planted. If she could have, she would have dug her heels literally into the floorboards of the kitchen. "I won't. I promised… I promised them when I joined Dumbledore's Army that I'd stick it through. These are my friends. You can't make me go!"
Her mother and father exchanged helpless looks. Both parents were Ravenclaw to the core and had absolutely no idea how to understand or comprehend such a Hufflepuff daughter and her unwavering dedication to people she wasn't related to. The logic of it all seemed to baffle them. Their little badger was far too stubborn for her own good. Portkey reservations sat silent and taunting on the worn oak table.
Susan's father let out a heavy sigh. The kind of sigh that comes from a man who has lost too much already. "Susan . . . we're not going to make you. But we are going to beg of you. Please don't follow in my sister's footsteps. Or my brother's."
"It wouldn't be for too long, honey."
How wrong Susan's mother was.
...
Three months into her stay, Susan started to notice a few things. That she knew what some of the more disreputable men were talking about when they held up a camera and said "Ke yi zhao nin ma?" And she knew to say no, that she didn't want her picture taken. Susan noticed that she'd started to develop favourite places to sit. On a bench in the middle of the Long Corridor at the Summer Palace was one of them.
Three months into her stay, Susan found that the British Embassy was glad to have a national to answer phones and hired her so fast that Susan thought perhaps someone had been pulling some strings. This "temporary travel" was soon becoming less temporary and more permanent.
Three months into her stay, Susan found that in a city of fourteen million people, she was still lonely.
She held a book butterflied between her fingers and settled on the bench pretending to read while actually watching tour groups go by and listen to the stories that the guides told the muggles, red faced and snapping pictures all with the expected "ooo's" and "ahh's."
"And this painting depicts the tale of the Peach-Blossom Land. The story is set during the reign of Emperor Wu of the Eastern Jin Dynasty. It tells the story of a fisherman who discovers a secluded valley located on the other side of a narrow cave. The inhabitants of the valley were the descendants of war refugees from the times of the Qin Dynasty. They had lived in this utopia untroubled by the further course of history in peace and harmony. The fisherman returned home to tell the story, but the idyllic valley could never be found again…."
A yellow umbrella waved the group of tourists along.
Susan had to smile and shake her head. There was just a tiny snippet of information missing in all of that. That being that the fisherman had been a muggle and the inhabitants of the Peach-Blossom valley were wizards and witches. And they had just put up a stronger Muggle repellent charm to keep their valley hidden.
It was a nice place. They made good Jiaozi.
...
"I won't know anyone." Susan folded the last of her jumpers, shrank them and placed them neatly in her suitcase.
"The hotel we've found for you is completely magical," said Susan's mum as she sat on the edge of the bed, folding socks. "They take in borders for magical studies. You'll make friends in no time. You've always had that ability."
Susan pressed her lips together. The argument between her and her parents had been epic. But in the end, she'd agreed to spend a few months away. Just to be safe and to put their minds at ease. Susan gave them six months. She felt it was generous. If You Know Who was too powerful, she'd stay longer, but if her family was in no more danger, she'd return.
"I'll miss you, Susan." Hands shook and the basket of socks fell to the floor.
That's when Susan noticed how sad her mother was. And how scared.
...
Checking her watch, Susan swore softly. She'd spent too much time lollygagging with her novel and not enough time getting to work. She'd have to apparate to make it there on time.
Launching herself from the bench in her haste to leave was not one of Susan's better ideas. Especially in a crowded world heritage site in one of the largest cities in the world. Especially when she should have noticed the very tall young man standing directly in her path.
The pair of them went sprawling.
"Dui bu qi. Dui bu qi." The words fell from her lips as Susan made a grab for her novel before it was trampled by yet another umbrella-carrying tour guide walking backwards.
"No no, it's entirely my fault." He reached out to help her stand.
The voice was English. Scratch that, the voice was British. And to top it off, the voice had understood her apology.