Chapter 1
A/N: This is my first fanfic. Please review it! I will accept criticism. :D
Update 6/27/10: So I just reread this fanfiction, and I have to say that this isn't my finest work. I will be revising it for the next few months, so if you haven't read it yet, please do! (or not, because the revision is mainly for my annoyance with this fanfiction)
Disclaimer: I did not create the Harry Potter series. That was J.K. Rowling. I know this because if I had written it, Fred would not be dead. Nor would Tonks.
Moving on...
The ice crunched under our feet as we walked home. He pulled me closer to him while we walked, allowing no space to come between us. That suited me just fine.
"This is weird." he said pleasantly, for him, weird was good.
"Weird." I agreed.
His arm tightened around me as a large gust of cold air hit us square in the face.
"I never thought that I would fall for a muggle." his face was thoughtful.
I glared at him half-heartedly, "Is that a bad thing?"
"No." he grinned.
I was elated. Without thinking, I dropped the bags that I was carrying, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He responded passionately.
"Merlin." a familiar voice said behind us, "Can't you two go five minutes without snogging?"
I woke up. My eyes were red and swollen, and there was a damp spot on my pillow. Sighing, I stood up to make some tea - something I only did when I was stressed.
On my way to the kitchen, I wondered what my dream had been about. Usually I didn't have any dreams, and they were never that vivid.
To my surprise, the light yellow tea kettle was already on the stove. That was odd, I didn't remember making tea in the past month; nothing had been very stressful for me lately. Had Clara been here?
As I waited for the water to heat, I noticed that the small collection of herbs and flowers on my window ledge were wilted and limp. This was strange too, I always remembered to water my plants.
The high keening pitch of the kettle woke me from my thoughts.
Taking out one of my flowered teacups that I had inherited from my great aunt - the one with the cracked handle - I pored myself a cup of hot water.
At that moment, something went off in my mind. I saw a kettle - my kettle! - soaring through the air.
Suddenly I was on the floor, the cup of scalding water spilled over the front of my shirt. Cursing, I decided that the cup of tea was not the best idea.
I stripped off my now-damp shirt, and flung it on the floor. What was going on?
"Oh, Ava!" Clara shrieked, "You look horrible!"
I shrugged, I had lost some weight. "How long has it been?" I murmured.
"Four months!" she looked at me skeptically. Had it really been that long?
"So, where have you been?" she raised one eyebrow.
"I was visiting my aunt in Scotland. She's ill." The words just flowed out of my mouth without thinking. This was odd; I didn't have an aunt. From what I remember, the only family I have is a cousin that lives in Peru.
"I didn't know you had an aunt." Clara said pleasantly, sometimes I thought she was bipolar. "Would you like some tea?"
I had known Clara ever since I was about four, when our mums became friends. She was more like an overprotective sister than my best friend, and I loved her.
That night, I had another dream.
"So, what do you do when you're not in hiding?" I raised one eyebrow.
"I have a joke shop." He was grinning.
I snorted, "That sounds just like you."
"You should come see it sometime."
"I'd like that." I smiled.
"So," he said, looking around, "Mind showing me how your fellytone works?"
"You mean the telephone?"
"Er, yeah." he grinned.
I laughed, for the first time in awhile, "Sure."