Inspired by 'One Girl Revolution' as sung by Saving Jane

Mel didn't know how it happened. It just... sort of did. It was one of those things.

The best place to start a story is the beginning, supposedly. But the best place to start Mel's story would probably be with Mrs Figg. The crazy old cat lady who visited the orphanage every once in a while to deliver the most amazing fruit cake in the world. Mel and her best friend, Tanya, found it ironically suitable that the fruitcake would supply fruit cake. The orphanage wasn't the greatest of places, but after spending the first thirteen years of her life with abusive parents or on the streets it was a haven that Mel was eternally grateful for. Then, just after her sixteenth birthday, it was shut down.

No one was truly aware of why the orphanage shut. Something to do with insufficient funds, or unacceptable conditions. Some government excuse for getting rid of something that worked perfectly well and didn't drain the tax payer's money. For a period of two months there was uncertainty. Mel and the sixty-odd other children who had lived there were drifting. The ultimatum had been delivered, but no one had been told where they would go next. The youngest of the children were too young to understand, the oldest too close to independence to care. The rest of them were, in a word, scared.

Then, the last Sunday of the month, like she always did, Mrs Figg came to deliver her fruit cake and say hi to everyone. When she learnt of the imminent closure she offered to take in to her home one of the elder, better behaved kids. After some debate, it was decided that Mel would go. She would only stay with Mrs Figg for two years and, due to her traumatic childhood, she was always impeccably behaved. Mel was happy enough with the transition. She and Tanya had always been somewhat dubious as to Mrs Figg's sanity, but it had never been with cruel intent, only in the way that teenagers wonder why all people over fifty seem a little crazy.

Mel would miss Tanya.

It was late May by the time Mel had settled into Mrs Figg's house. She had her own room up on the first floor which had a single bed with a very thick mattress tucked up against one wall, a desk and a wardrobe against the other and a very large, comfortable armchair that looked like it had melted into pure cushion long ago under the window opposite the door. There was another door at the foot of the bed which led into a small ensuite bathroom which contained a very compact shower, a loo and a sink. Mrs Figg had explained that the only bath in the house was a rather ancient, tin thing that, whilst it worked perfectly, she hadn't dared touch it in years for fear it would fall apart.

Mel couldn't care less. Showers were fine and, to be honest, she'd never in her wildest dreams expected to live somewhere where she would have a bathroom of her own, directly off her bedroom. In fact, she didn't expect a lot of things Mrs Figg showed her in the following months. The lady wasn't nearly as crazy as everyone had thought and didn't own nearly as many cats. There were three, Olive, Mr Thomas and Felicity, who had been immediately renamed in Mel's head as 'The Killer' for her sour temperament and strange attachment to biting Mel's ankles, scratching her legs and then curling up in her lap and purring all evening, refusing to budge.

Mrs Figg, it seemed, was a little behind the times, technologically wise, but when informed about how useful the computers at Mel's school were, had given the teenager a laptop as a belated birthday-come-welcoming present. And, shortly afterwards, upon learning about Mel's penchant for playing the guitar, had bought Mel a second hand acoustic and started paying for proper lessons. Mel, too flustered by this – to her – surprising show of selfless giving, to raise any proper protestations about it really being too much, had accepted the gifts with a muted appreciation that was slowly made ever more apparent as, when she wasn't studying, Mel helped Mrs Figg with the housework.

The first month passed with surprising swiftness and Mel found, by the end of it, that she had formed a solid friendship with Mrs Figg that she knew would only grow. The two women found themselves settling into an easy routine, each making allowances for the other and working with and round each other to get the most satisfying results. Mel had her guitar lessons and her GCSE exams in under a month and Mrs Figg seemed to have an endless list of responsibilities in link with the neighbourhood and also with some man called Albus, whom Mel never saw and secretly thought was her new guardian's... gentleman friend.

It was on the second of July, which happened to be a Tuesday, when dark and handsome arrived. Mel, like many teenage girls, had whiled away many an hour daydreaming of a tall, dark and handsome Mr Perfect who would hand them a happy-ever-after on a silver platter. Mel didn't really believe in fairytale endings, but she did believe in what her eyes saw. And when for everyday for the rest of that week she saw the same young man working in the Dursleys' front garden when she returned home it was enough for her to figure out he must be someone hired to work for them over the summer break. And, whilst he wasn't exactly tall, this teenager fit into the 'dark and brooding' category very well.

So, the following Monday, after returning from her guitar lessons, Mel stopped outside the Dursleys' and waved hello to the teen.

'Hi,' she said, smiling at him as he looked up, swiping a hand across his brow and brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes.

'Hey,' he answered, startlingly green eyes suspicious, even though his mouth smiled.

'I'm Mel,' she supplied. 'I live with Mrs Figg, do you know her?'

The young man's smile slipped slightly and a haunted look flitted across his eyes before he nodded.

'The orphanage closed this year and she took me in,' Mel said, starting to feel a little lost and uncomfortable at the boy's standoffishness.

'Oh,' he said, without any real interest.

'So, um,' Mel smiled hopelessly at him and shrugged her shoulders to alter the weight of the guitar strap over her shoulder. 'I don't really recognise you, are you staying with relatives for the summer, or something?'

Those endless green eyes surveyed her, the tiniest bit warmer than they had been a moment before. 'The Dursleys are my only remaining blood relatives.' The wording he'd used with the sentence was strange, but Mel brushed it off.

'Oh, is Dudley as bad at home as he is at school?' she asked, wincing slightly as she realised her faux pas. For all she knew the two boys could be the best of friends. This teenager could be Dudley's brother, though Mel doubted it, the teen hadn't specified what type of 'blood relatives' they were.

But her concern was misplaced as, a moment later, the teen's face split into a true-to-heart grin that blinded Mel with its honesty.

'You've got guts, Mel,' the teen said. 'What if I liked the whale?'

Mel laughed at the nickname. 'Then it wouldn't really matter, would it? If you actually liked him, then insulting you would be exactly the right thing to do.'

'I think I may have to agree with you there. My name's Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.'

There was a pause for the moment, as though the teen expected Mel to make some kind of adverse reaction to his name, but when Mel only smiled, the moment ended.

'I think Mrs Figg mentioned you once or twice. Did she babysit you when you were little?' Mel asked, hoping that was the right way to react.

'Yeah, that's right,' Harry said.

'So how come you're not here the rest of the year? I got the impression that you were the same age as me.'

'Boarding school in Scotland. I only really come home for the summer.'

Mel smiled broadly at him. 'Well, I don't blame you for staying away, though I'm glad you came back.'

Harry flashed her a curious glance, even as he continued to do weed the garden.

'I wouldn't have met you otherwise.'

The dark haired teen stiffened and turned his back to her, in the pretence of turning his attention to a separate patch of the flower bed, but not really fooling Mel.

'Look, I know we've only just met, but it's not as if there are many people my age that live in this area that aren't complete jerks, you know? I mean, you could turn out to be a complete jerk as well, but you never know until you talk to a person and you seem alright so far, even if you aren't exactly friendly and... do you want me to go away now?' Mel asked hopelessly, knowing that she was babbling and that she'd probably just spoilt whatever chance with Harry she'd had in the first place.

When no answer came Mel's shoulders slumped and she turned away slightly to carry on down the road.

'Stay,' a quiet voice asked her and Mel glanced back to see sad green eyes watching her. 'I'm sorry. I am a jerk most of the time, even to my friends. But, well, I guess it'd be nice to have a friend around here.' Harry smiled uncertainly at her, as though expecting her to flee.

Mel hesitated for a moment, being friends with Harry would be nice, but... 'Well, I was kind of hoping that we, um, could go out together.'

There was a rather long, awkward pause in which neither of them said anything.

'As in dating?' Harry asked after a moment.

'Well, not if you don't want to,' Mel quickly assured him. 'I'd still love to be friends, I just thought...'

'I don't have enough money to take you out every weekend,' Harry told her, utterly seriously. 'In fact, I don't have any money to take you out at all.'

'So?'

'The Dursleys would probably warn you off and tell you that I'm a dangerous criminal.'

'Are you?'

'People around me have a tendency to die young, but I don't kill them,' Harry told her, again with utter seriousness.

'Well, so long as you tell your assassination squad not to kill me, I only have to start worrying if we have a messy break up, don't I?'

Harry didn't seem to appreciate the joke completely, but he did nod and smile, which was enough for Mel.

'As for taking me out, there are so many more fun things to do than go to watch films we won't watch at the cinema, or eat food we don't like at some stuffy restaurant.'

'Always looking on the brighter side of things?' Harry asked her, his voice surprisingly soft.

Mel smiled her own sad smile and nodded. 'When you've lived through things which don't have a brighter side, you learn to appreciate what you have.'

There was another silence, but this was a comfortable curiosity.

'So is that a "yes",' Mel asked after a moment.

'You'll have to wait until Wednesday for me to call off the assassination squad, but if you want to meet up at six?' Harry asked with a grin.

'And you better make sure I'm back by midnight, young man,' Mel teased back.

'I'd go around to Mrs Figg's and meet you there, but I haven't seen her for a while and I think we may not end up leaving for a while, so is the park opposite the Co-Op ok?'

'Sure,' Mel agreed. 'I'll see you then.'

Then Mel had walked away, leaving both of them to wonder just what, exactly had taken place and what they'd let themselves in for.

What it led to, in fact, was a summer romance neither of them would ever forget. There was, to begin with, a nervous tension between them as they learnt more about one another, about what they liked, what they didn't and what was and wasn't acceptable. But once Mel finished the last of her exams and was free from school they ended up spending most of their time together and it didn't take long for them to become comfortable around each other.

It wasn't perfect, but it came mighty close. They'd spend time just mucking about in the park or Mrs Figg's garden; they'd go for long walks around the block, eventually finding a strange sort of wilderness hidden away behind builders' warning signs that had fallen down over the years. There they had spent a lot of time just being, talking about everything and nothing.

But, three weeks after they had first talked, Harry dropped a bombshell that Mel was in no way prepared for.

'I'm leaving,' he said on the thirtieth of July.

Mel inhaled quickly, then bowed her head until her hair fell forward over her eyes. She coughed, once. 'When?' she asked, finally, picking at the mortar of the wall they were sitting on that surrounded the perimeter of the park.

'Tonight,' he whispered tentatively.

'Oh.' Mel couldn't think of anything else to say and continued to stare at her hands, jumping when Harry brushed her hair back gently.

His earnest green eyes watched her closely as he tipped her face up and kissed her softly on the lips. 'I only found out today,' he murmured against the hair by her ear. 'I'm sorry.'

'Why? Why so suddenly?'

Harry leant back a little and regarded her with solemn, considering eyes. 'Do you remember when I said the Dursleys were my only blood relatives?' he paused until she nodded. 'My best friend's parents have sort of... adopted me. Not officially, just... they look out for me, take me in when they can. Their eldest son is getting married on the first, and it's my birthday tomorrow. They've planned these parties for us and can take me for the rest of the holidays. Since the Dursleys want me gone as soon as possible... I'm leaving.'

'Oh,' Mel said again, and ducked her head. Because of this, she was caught off guard when Harry pulled her into a tight, all encompassing hug.

'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'If I could bring you...' his eyes flashed briefly, but then the spark was gone and he shook his head.

'Why not?' Mel asked. 'I saw hope then – why not?'

Harry considered her again. 'You know what I said about people I love getting hurt? I don't want... the next one... to be you.' He couldn't look into her eyes.

This time it was Mel who tilted his head up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. 'I love you too,' she murmured. She couldn't understand why she would get hurt, nor did she think she wanted to know. She kissed him again, harder, demanding.

'God, Mel,' he gasped out, half laughing, half mournful. 'I've only known you three weeks, but you've changed my whole world. You don't know half of the shit that goes on in my life and I can only hope it stays that way. One day, when I'm free, I'll show you everything I can. You'll meet my best friends and the people who I consider my parents.' Then he smiled a beautiful, heartbroken smile. 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' he told her again and again, as though he'd never said the words before.

She kissed him again and he held her like the most precious thing in the world. They spent the rest of the day discovering what "I love you" meant. They revelled in one another's presence, laughing and crying because today was the best day, but the worst as well. They snuck in when Mrs Figg was out and fumbled through sex for their first time, laughing when it went wrong, crying when it was perfect because they couldn't bear to let go.

And then, at nine o'clock, Harry took her hand and led her to the Dursley's house and left her just outside the driveway, running in to get his bags. Then they stood hand in hand, waiting for Harry to leave.

'Harry?' the greying man asked, when he pulled up in a beat up old blue car.

'Remy!' he cried, and wrapped the older man in a tight hug, and Mel bit her lip not to cry because there was a joy on Harry's face that was beautiful. She wished that he could have that joy all the time.

'Who's this?' the man – Remy – asked, nodding towards her.

Harry ducked his face, biting his lip and Mel smiled at the light blush that touched his cheeks. 'This is Mel,' he mumbled simply.

She stepped forwards and offered the man her hand.

'Remus Lupin,' he told her with a concerned grin – confusing Mel. It was obvious this man cared deeply for Harry, that he wanted to like Mel for Harry's sake, but that he was worried about something.

'It's nice to meet you,' she lied. He might have been a wonderful person, but he was taking her Harry. But then she remembered the joy on Harry's face and found that she was telling the truth as well.

Harry had raised his head to watch them, and a different, quieter joy, dominated his features as he saw that she and this Remus were getting on and Mel resolved not to dislike the older man. 'Mel?' Harry asked.

'I... Bye Harry,' she tried a smile and hated to think what it looked like. Then she turned and started walking away, wondering if she ever actually would see Harry again.

As she was walking away he called her name and she turned before getting crushed by another tight hug. 'I love you,' he said. 'I love you, I love you.'

And she was laughing and crying again as he kissed her. 'I love you too.'

But he had to go and soon all that remained of him was the taste of him on her lips and she was alone again. Mel hugged herself tight and turned, again, and headed home. Home.

A day, a week, a month passed. Mel could remember getting her exam results, remember getting the placement she wanted in a new school, remember starting the new school. She remembered guitar lessons, and school and homework and new friends and a new social life. She remembered life with Mrs Figg passing easily. Everything passed easily. Monotonously.

Months stalked by and nothing changed. Not until May. That was when the Dursleys went missing.

They hadn't gone on holiday, everyone knew when and where they went on holiday, because Mr Dursley would tell everyone proudly of holidays he could afford and they couldn't. They hadn't gone to visit relatives, because their car was still parked in the drive. They had simply disappeared.

This fact agitated Mrs Figg greatly, and Mel couldn't understand why. She started hearing whispered conversations that couldn't take place, because there was no one else there. The smell of coal fire smoke lingered about the house, even though they never used the fireplace. And a strange, depressing atmosphere lingered about the entire estate. Summer didn't come properly, the air to heavy and cold for that to happen.

Mel payed it no attention. She was still counting the days until the first of July, when Harry would be back. Only two months remained.

It was on Monday that the unthinkable happened. Mel was walking back from her guitar lessons when a pop noise resounded through the air and a man in a black cloak and skull mask appeared from nowhere in front of her. He grabbed her and, before Mel had a chance to scream, the world disappeared around them, a strange sensation jerking her insides uncomfortably.

'Let go of me!' Mel shouted, refusing to accept that they were in a different space and wrenching her arm from the figure's grip, her strength obviously taking him by surprise. But he didn't reach for her again, just faded back into the shadows. It was then that Mel noticed that she was surrounded by other men, dressed similarly to the first, each of them half-hidden by shadows and forming a solid circle around her.

Then one stepped forward and the air seemed to chill further. He drew back his hood and Mel realised with horror that he did not wear a mask – for him it was his face. A snake face with no nose and thin skin that was so pale it seemed almost luminescent. He was unnaturally tall and gave Mel the distinct impression of Death.

'Where isss Harry Potter?' he hissed at her.

Mel laughed. In hindsight, this wasn't a good idea, but at the time it was as though she had no other choice.

'Crucio!' the strange, sibilant voice shouted and a pain incomparable to anything else thrilled through her entire body.

And Mel laughed. Hysteria that she had thought she would never have to deal with again shook her as she collapsed to the floor, arching and writhing as fire raced through her veins. When her father and mother had involved her in their sick little games – she had laughed then, too. When she was little the games had been just games. They had been fun and made her laugh. As they got worse and more painful and more damaging they didn't remain fun anymore. But she forgot how not to laugh.

The pain lifted and she stretched, surprised at how easy it was to forget that pain. Pain like that induced the way her parents had – then it would have stayed as it was until her body had healed. Whatever the snake-man had done to her stopped being as painful. She still ached, but not nearly as much as she had expected.

'Why do you laugh?' he asked, curiosity and surprise clear in his voice.

'I forget how not to,' Mel answered truthfully, screaming and laughing again as the pain clutched her again.

It didn't last as long this time, releasing her and letting her turn the laughs to sobs. 'Stupid fucker,' she spat at the stranger, not caring what he did to her. 'Nothing you can do will hurt me nearly as much as my parents could.'

Then, to the very obvious surprise to those in the room with her, she staggered to her feet. 'Whatever the fuck you want Harry for, I can't help you. I haven't seen him since July last year. Now let me the fuck go.'

The men didn't move and Mel sighed. She sat back down, not having enough energy to stay standing. She bowed her head and cried. Maybe, once, she would have been too prideful to cry before these men, these strangers, these torturers. But that time was so long ago she couldn't remember it. Now she didn't care.

The snake man stalked closer to her, staring down at her, slit like eyes narrowing further. 'Exssactly what are you to Harry?' he demanded to know.

'It was a fucking summer fling. I'm about as much to him as he is to me,' Mel shot back. 'We fucked. That's it. If I knew some bastard was going to torture me for it I would never have said "hello" to him. I'll probably never see him again.'

'Ssstrange,' the snake man hissed. 'You tell the truth.'

Mel laughed again. 'It does happen,' she informed him.

'Very well,' he paused, considering her, not unlike how Harry had the day he'd said goodbye. 'Draco!' he called, one of the slighter figure stepped forward, bowing gracefully and prostrating itself before the man. 'You may have her. Do what you will. Make sure the body is disposed of when you are done.'

Written: 13th August 2009
Chances of continuation: nil

Feel free to use this piece of writing for whatever the hell you want, so long as you credit me (either this account or my main one - Calistabelle) and let me know what you do with it.

Much love,
Cal