[Disclaimer:] Sadly, the characters and most of the setting belong to
Joanne Kathleen Rowling. I don't own anything except this plot, which I think
isn't something to be proud of anyway.
A/N: I wrote this fic about five months ago, when my computer didn't yet
know how to upload things. Remmirath, the closest thing I have to a
beta-reader, told me to put it now up because she 'liked it' and 'wondered what
happened to it'. So I edited it just a bit, changed the title, changed some
names… But it's not too thorough, so don't you be expecting much. ~ Does anyone
know the banishing charm? I can't check right now, my GoF isn't within reach.
And I know some stuff I put in doesn't match with the stuff in Quidditch
through the Ages, but let it go, I don't know where that book is right now.
Warning: Child abuse alert. I'm not asking you to review either!
Dolce Far Niente
Chapter One: To the Death
Blood. There was no mistaking its metallic taste, its insipid smell. It
crept down his face, entered his mouth, trickled down his chin to the cold,
marble floor of Malfoy Manor.
Draco staggered backwards from Lucius Malfoy, whose arm was extended
after giving his son a forceful blow. The younger clutched his own face and
felt the warm, sticky liquid under his cold white fingers.
'Insolent boy,' Lucius snarled. He strode towards his son, who was still
looking astonished, and gave him another blow to the face. The boy fell to the
floor, his hand still on his chin.
'Father, please, no..' he pleaded. He inwardly cursed himself for his
weakness, but he was well aware that there was more than his safety at stake
here.
'Please what, my dear son?'
Lucius sneered mockingly. 'That I forgive you?' He said the words with such
nastiness, such vehemence, that Draco flinched.
'N-no, father,..' he said, apprehensively.
'What then, boy?' Lucius strode,
with a menacing aura, to his granite fireplace and faced his son, with his
sharp features, which would have been rather handsome, illuminated in the dim
firelight.
'That you let Caitlin live.' Draco stood up with quiet resolve,
determined not to show any more vulnerability than was necessary.
'Caitlin?' his father sneered
once more. 'The little bitch? You speak of her so lovingly that it surprises me
that you don't call each other "love muffin".' If it were not for the tenseness
of the situation Draco would have taken notice and laughed at his father's
language. Lucius took a fistful of glittering powder from a bottle green jar on
the mantelpiece and threw it into the flames.
As expected, a revolving figure appeared in the grate. A girl with long
brown hair. Caitlin.
It took a second or two before Draco could get her face into focus, as
the mild concussion he suffered muddled his vision a little. Even in such
misery, even with pearl tears dripping down her ashen face onto her tattered
blue apron, even with hair in great disarray, Draco still thought her
beautiful. Her hazel eyes were huge with anticipated fear, her hands wringing
her pinstripe pinafore in all nervousness. Draco laughed bitterly, inwardly.
How could she not be nervous? She had been caught, a slave, with the son of the
richest man in Great Britain. Seeing the look of loathing Lucius gave her, she
might as well have burned in the flames.
'You called, Sir?' she squeaked. Draco flinched at her voice, the
knowledge of what was most likely going to happen making him shudder.
'Step out, girl,' Lucius spat. Caitlin obeyed with her eyes on the
floor, looking like her very moves were causing her pain. Draco automatically
stepped towards her, but Lucius stopped him with an outstretched arm.
'I want to hear what this wretch has to say.'
'Stop it, father,' Draco croaked. His voice came out, taut, in a gasp.
'Silence!' roared Lucius, the volume of his voice ten times louder than
Draco's little pant. He turned to Caitlin, disgust clear in his piqued posture.
'Explain. Say what you must.'
'And you will kill me afterwards?' Caitlin dropped her hands, losing her
plea and turning cold. Lucius only smiled. 'If so, I have nothing to say.' She
spread her snake-bitten arms. 'Kill me.'
'No!' Draco ran for her, ducking under his father's arm despite his
father's yells. He embraced her, took in every last bit of her, the translucent
quality of her skin, her hair that smelled of lavender, the warmth of her body,
the steadiness of her pulse. He wanted desperately to imprint these memories in
his mind, knowing he would never get another chance.
'Good-bye,' he murmured in her ear, the corner of his eyes stinging. A
diminutive sob escaped Caitlin's throat, and she, too, whispered her good-bye.
'Invenio!' came a banishing spell, breaking Draco and Caitlin apart. The
boy was instantly thrown against the wall and he fell to the flagstones. Then
everything turned black.
***
When Draco came to, he was still situated on the marble floor of his
father's study, on the same position he had passed out in. He got slowly and
groggily to his feet, blinking to help focus.
The first thing he saw nearly made him scream. Caitlin lay on the floor,
paler than he had ever seen her. Her pinafore lay in folds around her slender,
snake-bitten frame. Ignoring the blood that was trickling down the side of his
face and the intense pain that was starting to worsen in his head, he rushed to
Caitlin's side, taking her beautiful head in his lap. Caitlin. Caitlin, please be alive.
He checked her pulse by instinct. There was none, of course. What had he
suspected? He thought bitterly. His father wouldn't allow that. Caitlin was
dead.
He stayed still for a few seconds, his muscles still aching from the
blows he'd suffered, not wanting to move, and not wanting to feel the bitter
reality sink in. This was a nightmare, it just had to be. Any minute he would
wake up in Caitlin's arms like he had so many summers before. The corners of
his eyes began again to sting as he watched her lifeless features and caressed
her pale skin, sorry that she was not there to feel it. Never again would he
see her smile, never again would he feel her warm caress, never again would she
kiss him and hold him with the love no one had ever bothered to bestow upon
poor Draco Malfoy before. His delicious little secret for two years was gone
forever.
He started crying like he had never before. In the back of his mind he
realised he hadn't cried for as long as he could remember, and it was rather a
novel experience, one he wasn't very much fond of enduring. His moans echoed
through the halls of Malfoy Manor, most probably waking the House-elves, but he
didn't care. It was a horrid, almost inhuman sound. Draco's tears trickled down
his cheek onto her dead, ashen face, with him begging her to live... Unaware
his father was there, smiling grimly, in the background.
***
'Happy Birthday!'
Harry Potter woke up with a start, and found himself staring into the
face of his best friend, Hermione Granger. His eyes widened in astonishment and
he heard himself yell:
'Wha -- what are you doing here?!'
They were in Number Four, Privet Drive, in Harry's bedroom. Harry
instantly looked down his body to see if he was decent. He was.
'You're lucky I don't sleep naked,' he muttered, reaching for his
black-rimmed glasses on the night table. Hermione laughed. She was sitting on
the side of his bed, looking especially tickled.
'Shh. Your aunt and uncle will hear us,' she said.
Harry looked over Hermione's looming shoulder and saw Fred and George
Weasley waving at him from near the window. Their little brother, Ron, was
heaving Hedwig's, Harry's owl, cage out the window into the trunk of a
turquoise Ford Anglia, identical to the one currently running wild in the
Hogwarts Forbidden Forest. Harry grinned and got up, unable to stifle a yawn.
'How did you guys get here? And where'd you get the car?'
'Fudge gave Dad a promotion. The first thing he thought to buy was a car
so he could go tinkering with one again,' Fred offered, wincing slightly at the
weight of Harry's things.
Harry smiled and shifted his gaze to Hermione, who was looking at him
with a crooked grin on her face and holding something behind her back. 'What?'
Hermione looked slightly hurt at first, but resumed her happy expression
and held out a package wrapped in red and gold. Harry smiled at her, then took
it. He ripped through the paper and found himself holding a book called Quidditch at Hogwarts. He flipped it
open and saw hundreds of wizard pictures of people in broomsticks.
Hermione took the leather-bound book (a/n: at least the book is wearing
leather, the DWL fans will be totally disappointed) and turned to the last few
pages. 'You're in here, you know,' she said.
'What?'
'It was published a decade or two ago, but the books were charmed to be
updated magically.' She shoved the book in his hand, and Harry glimpsed a
picture of himself, thirteen years old, in scarlet Quidditch robes ad being
lifted onto the shoulders of a huge crowd. It was rather fortunate the pictures
didn't' have sounds, or else the room would have been filled with screams and
cheers from the said event. Harry grinned at Hermione. 'Thanks.'
'You're welcome.' Hermione put her arms around Harry's waist and
squeezed. Harry returned her embrace.
'Hey,' came Ron's voice from near the window, 'are you done fondling
each other over there?' His voice was carefully kept even, and he was smiling a
grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Fred and George laughed, and Harry and Hermione let go of each other
awkwardly. Each stepped into the Ford Anglia, then flew, invisible, of course,
to Ottery St., Catchpole.
* * *
'Mr. Malfoy?'
His eyes fluttered open. He hadn't really been sleeping, just trying to
see if insomnia would kill him. It was a rather feeble attempt. Draco got
unenthusiastically to his feet to open the large oak doors of his bedroom, his
head feeling heavy, his steps groggy. The first thing he saw made his jaw drop
to his feet.
Vanessa.
The old woman reminded Draco agonisingly of Caitlin, for they resembled
each other in appearance greatly indeed. The same chestnut hair, the same hazel
eyes, only Vanessa's held a more lively intelligence than her daughter's, which
were decidedly more innocent. For a moment Draco wondered if she were only here
to cause him more pain, as she was sure to know how seeing Caitlin's mum could
bring back memories.
'What're you doing here?' Human servants never came to serve them, only
House-Elves. Draco had once heard Lucius say that these Squibs (which Caitlin
and her family were) were even lower than the elves, a statement Draco was
doubtless forbidden to protest to.
'You forget, Master Malfoy,'
the woman stepped into his bedroom carrying a large silver tray. 'I am here to
serve you.'
Draco scowled at her insolent tone and let out a long exasperated
breath, sounding almost like a growl. Punishment; that was what this was.
'Look, I'm sorry, Vanessa,' he said in a less sincere way than he had intended.
Draco closed the doors and went over to Vanessa, who was setting the tray on
Draco's credenza. Sparks flew from her eyes, and Draco recoiled.
'Sorry about what? That my daughter was killed, was murdered, for something you did?' Draco tried to banish from his
head the unsettling fact that this was the way Lucius had mocked him, what, a
day, a night ago? He had lost his sense of time, apparently.
'I did not have Caitlin killed!' Draco shouted. He felt his hands ball
themselves into fists, and he took a calming breath, trying to control the
volume of his voice. 'How could I? I loved her. And she loved me.' Draco
paused, his voice becoming painfully hoarse, and his expression clouded. 'Or
maybe it was my fault. I shouldn't have..' he trailed off lamely, staring at
his shoes. The expression on Vanessa's face softened considerably, though her
grudge appeared not fully erased from her eyes.
'I know it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry. Please don't blame yourself.'
Her voice was barely a whisper. 'I guess I needed someone to blame. I only
wished things had been different.' Vanessa then shoved a hand into her apron's
pockets, took out something she held tightly, almost protectively, in her
gnarled fist, then shoved it discreetly in Draco's hand.
'Keep it,' she said shortly.
Draco opened his palm to see a small silver cross. Caitlin's small
silver cross. It looked more beautiful than it had ever, the inscription Ad Infinitum glittering in the back.
Unlike the crosses most Christian women wore, this one had no dying figure
sculpted upon it, just a shine that hurt your eyes when it reflected the
blinding light of the sun. 'Why are you giving this to me? And how did you get
it?'
Vanessa sat down at the foot of Draco's bed. She looked tired, like she
wanted to fall asleep right then and there. And never wake up. 'When your
father asked me to clean up a certain mess
in his study, I took it off Caitlin's neck.' The woman sighed bitterly, most
likely pondering if Lucius had made her tidy up the 'mess' just to see if she
would break down. 'And I knew she loved you. Is that enough reason?'
'Of course.' Draco sadly put the cross, which hung on charmed,
unbreakable black cord, around his neck and hid it in his high velvet collar.
Lucius would surely take it away if he saw it, deeming it to be 'rubbish'. The
metal felt cold against his skin, making his chest tingle underneath the heavy
fabric. 'Thank you.'
Vanessa's lower lip trembled, and she got up to put her arms around
Draco. Draco returned her embrace, feeling an odd sense of comfort enveloping
him like Vanessa's frail arms.
'I had better go,' said Vanessa, releasing the sixteen-year old gently.
Draco reluctantly did the same. 'If I'm not careful, your father will kill us
both.' There was humor behind the line, but the woman's eyes glittered
mournfully as she hurried herself out the door.
Draco locked the door after her, then hurled himself on the bed and
started sobbing like a child who had lost his favourite toy, only worse. So, so
much worse.
* * *
'Do your parents know we're flying the car?'
Fred grinned evilly, and said, over his shoulder, 'Yeah. You know, they
wanted to send the Dursleys some notice, but after what happened with the
Ton-Tongue Toffee, it's unlikely we'd ever be allowed there again.' The twins,
Harry, and Ron laughed. It was rather nice to be laughing again, Harry thought.
He almost wasn't allowed even a grin on Number four.
They were still in the flying Ford Anglia, on the way to the Weasleys'
Burrow. Harry, Ron, Fred and George were wide-awake and laughing, with the
latter two driving the car. Hermione had fallen asleep, head on Harry's
shoulder, mouth partially open, chest rising and falling w.
Harry looked out the car window. Up here it was a brilliant view of the
sunrise -- varying shades of pink, gold and purple mixed in the sky to form a
beautiful palette of colours, with the sun glittering in the horizon. The car
zoomed over towns and flew over chimneys, and Hermione slept on through Ron and
Harry's conversation.
'Yep, we're here,' said Ron,
looking out the window at the Burrow, the crooked chimneys of which visible
from there.
'Already?' asked Harry. Ron smirked.
'Don't worry, Harry. Hermione will have plenty of time to sleep on your
shoulder this summer.'
Harry turned red, while Hermione woke up. (The twins mercifully hadn't
heard Ron's crack.) She stretched her arms -- at least, stretched as much as
she could manage in the cramped confines of the car. 'Great, we're here!' she
said, grinning widely. Harry looked away.
Sure enough, the convivial sight of the Burrow could be seen in the
distance. The car slid easily into the garage, where tall Mr. Weasley and plump
Mrs. Weasley were stifling waves, as the neighbours would have thought it
peculiar to see them waving at thin air. When the garage door was closed, Fred,
George, Ron, Harry and Hermione stepped out and greeted them. Mrs. Weasley
rushed to Harry first and gave him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek.
'Hello, Harry dear -- and Happy Birthday. We hope you didn't mind our
taking you in for now?' said Mrs. Weasley, grinning. Harry smiled at her.
'How could I? It was torture down there at the Dursleys, they'd just had
a barbecue last night and were to make me clean up the mess their pig
neighbours made in the backyard…' Harry stopped, knowing he needn't say any of
this. He turned to Mr. Weasley. 'Hi, there. Nice car, Mr. Weasley,' he greeted
with an amiable smile. Mr. Weasley glanced proudly at the garage.
'Isn't it, though? Good of Fudge to make me Head of Department. He fired
Mundungus Fletcher for siding with Dumbledore, or at least he thought he did --
Fletcher quit first, saying he didn't want to work for someone so shallow.' At
this, Harry laughed. Ron was taking out Hedwig's cage from the car.
'Let's get your stuff upstairs, huh?' Harry nodded, and he, Ron, Fred
and George lugged Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into Ron's bedroom while
Hermione stayed downstairs to make breakfast. Fred and George retreated to
their room, while Ron and Harry stayed in the bedroom to settle in.
'Where's Ginny?' asked Harry as they cleared away several issues of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle from the
floor. Ron grinned.
'Probably polishing her statue of you.' He made a big 'Picture this'
motion with his arm. 'The great Harry Potter.' Harry turned red for perhaps the
third time that morning and chucked a pillow at Ron.
'Quit it.' he said shortly. Ron laughed, managing to gasp
'That-was-mature' between chuckles. When he had regained his composure, he
said:
'C'mon, Harry. Let's go down to breakfast.'
And so they did, climbing down the stairs which seemed to twist all
around the house. When they finally got
to the kitchen, the smell of warm pancakes and bacon entered their nostrils.
Fred and George and Ginny were already there, munching toast. Ginny looked up
at him with brown eyes for a second before turning red and going back to her
breakfast. Percy was nowhere to be seen. Probably
at work, thought Harry. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were flipping flapjacks
near the stove, while Mr. Weasley was at the table, calmly reading The Daily Prophet. Harry and Ron sat down
at the small wooden table, greeting everyone a good morning. Hermione came over
and placed a heaping pile of pancakes in front of both of them. Mr. Weasley
folded up his newspaper and dug into his own breakfast, while the two chefs sat
down and poured themselves some juice.
'What are you all planning to do today?' asked Mrs. Weasley. Everyone
looked over at Harry, whose mouth was bulging with pancake -- it was paradise
to someone who'd only eaten lettuce leaves all month. Harry swallowed.
'What're you all looking at me for?'
Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. 'Well it is your birthday, isn't
it?' she asked. The others nodded in agreement. Harry looked at her.
'So what?' he asked expressionlessly. Hermione sighed, defeated, and
waved a hand dismissively.
'Never mind. Fred, George, any suggestions?'
Fred and George gave identical shrugs. 'Nah. We were thinking about
playing Quidditch, but it's too hot outside.'
'I guess you can all just loll around, eh?' asked Mr. Weasley.
'Uh-huh,' said Ron.
Hermione grinned and took the opportunity to remind them of their
doubtless unfinished tasks. 'You could get started on your summer homework,'
she said innocently. Everyone groaned.
* * *
Harry wiped at his eyebrows. Fred and George were right, he thought, it
was really, really hot.
He was sitting, alone, on a bench near the small creek that ran behind
the Weasley house. It was hotter inside, that was why he was here. Hermione had
somehow got Ron to do his Potions essay, and Fred and George were in their room,
from which explosions echoed through the house and to the creek. Harry was
reading Quidditch at Hogwarts, which
was a tad like Quidditch Through the
Ages, only it paid more attention to the game's history at his school, like
who won Quidditch cups and the commentators. It turned out that the first
Quidditch game at the school was held nearly two years since the founding date,
as the school was still striving to get students and was unable to pay
attention to games. Just as he was reading about the riot Salazar Slytherin had
made at one of the matches, a pair of small hands closed around his eyes.
'Aaaaargh!' said Harry, jumping up in surprise. The hands went unmoved,
though with some trouble, from his eyes. Harry stood still, the shock he had
felt quickly smoothing itself into curiosity. 'Who is this?'
'Guess.' said a voice.
Harry laughed at the presumption that he wouldn't be able to – he would
recognise her voice anywhere. 'Hermione, come on. You're hurting my eyes.' The
hands removed themselves, and Harry blinked to help focus. He turned around and
bumped one knee on the bench.
'Ow!' said Harry, bending down automatically to massage his knee.
Hermione giggled. She slid around the wooden bench to sit on it, watching Harry
focus his attention on his leg. Harry stopped, stood straight, and turned to
her.
'So, what do you need?' he said casually.
'Nothing. I just wanted to see what you were up to.' She patted the spot
next to her. 'Sit.'
Harry picked up his book, was lying on the ground after Harry dropped it
in surprise. He stared determinedly at the water running very slowly down the
creek to avoid looking at Hermione. Beside him, she sighed and put a hand on
his arm. Harry stiffened slightly, but did nothing to stop her. She took the
book from his hand and flipped the pages.
'I think there's something in here you'd like to see.'
'What?' Harry peered over to her curiously. As she was searching for a
certain page, Harry couldn't help but notice how taller she had grown, and more
mature-looking. Hermione was wearing a
pair of white shorts, very short shorts, Harry remarked, that showed off her
tanned legs, and a tank top. Her hair fell loosely around her, and one could
really note the difference – her hair had lost its frizzy feel and now ran in
smooth curls down her back. She was also wearing a silver bracelet with an
arrowhead charm hanging off it. Dang it, Harry thought, that was Viktor Krum's
gift to her in the previous year, a souvenir from their explorations of
Bulgaria during the summer. Hermione wore it constantly, and Ron teased her
about it just as incessantly. It was then that Harry noticed that he had
stopped flipping through the pages and was staring at him. Harry looked up from
his view of her arrowhead bracelet (not to mention her legs).
'Harry, what's wrong with you? You seem awfully distracted.'
'Nothing. Now, what was it that you wanted me to see?'
Hermione continued to stare at him for a few seconds, but showed him the
book nevertheless. In the centre of the page was a picture of a teenager with
untidy jet-black hair, and deep coffee-coloured eyes, wearing scarlet Quidditch
robes and flying on a broomstick.
'Is that my dad?' he croaked.
Hermione nodded, and pointed to a brief description. James Potter, Captain and Seeker for the
Gryffindor team from 1964 to 1970, had lead the team to six Quidditch Cup
victories in succession.
Harry looked at Hermione. 'Wow -- he'd won the Quidditch cup for every
year he was Captain! I knew he was good, but I didn't know he was that good.'
Hermione nodded. 'He was one of the most impressive Quidditch players of
the century, they say. Guess who else is on that list?' Her eyes twinkled, and
Harry knew what she was about to say.
'Careful, my ego,' he said with a roguish grin.
They were in danger of sinking into total silence. Harry didn't give
himself the trouble of looking for a topic, feeling too sluggish in the heat.
Hermione took the hint. 'So, how's Lavender?'
Harry's eyes darted to look at her. He was just a little angry, that was it.
'Look, Hermione,' he said, more loudly than he'd intended, 'I really would appreciate it if you didn't
stick your nose in other people's business.' Hermione looked about to say
something, perhaps an apology, but Harry beat her to it. 'You know very well we
broke up last month, and for your sake don't ask about it.' His shoulders
sagged and, still angry, he glared at her reflection on the water.
He watched as Hermione's expression changed from surprise to hurt, and
as she stood wordlessly and ran in the direction of the Burrow.
The sun's reflection glittered on the surface of the water.
* * *
Jerk. He was
such a jerk. She had gone through all that trouble to find that book, she had
even got her parents to take her to Diagon Alley to look for a present for him.
She had made sure he was in the book, too -- some of the books were only
updated until 1990. She had got her hair to look better, with some help from
her cousin Hannah (whose family owned a beauty parlour a couple of blocks from
the Grangers' clinic), and it was all for him. Hermione missed Harry terribly
during the first weeks of summer, and the first thing he'd said when he saw her
was 'You're lucky I don't sleep naked.' She had forgiven him for that when he
returned her embrace, but this was just becoming a little stupid. Hermione
shows him his father, commends him on his Quidditch performance, and then asks
about his girlfriend. She did not know they'd broken up! Harry barely
owled her during the summer, and he hadn't said anything at all about it!
She cursed herself silently as she entered the Burrow, for a tiny,
diminutive, selfish part of her was actually glad of the news.
Hermione stormed upstairs, not caring that Fred and George had poked
their heads into the hall when the sound of her feet got too loud, and hurled
herself into Ginny's bedroom, where Ginny herself was on her bed, working on
something. The younger hid the parchment she was writing on under her pillow
upon seeing Hermione, although Hermione had already seen what she was doing.
Ginny crawled to the foot of the bed where Hermione was sitting.
'What's wrong?'
'Nothing,' she replied in a clipped tone.
'Doesn't look like nothing.'
Hermione sighed. 'Have you ever, ever felt really wonderful and really
miserable at the same time, Gin?'
Ginny shifted uncomfortably, then peered questioningly into Hermione's
eyes. 'What's he done now?'
'I don't know if I should blame him anymore. Maybe the problem's just
me.' She sighed, then buried her face in her hands. 'For goodness' sake, Ginny.
We're sixteen -- or at least he is, my birthday isn't until September -- and
we've known each other for nearly six years. He obviously doesn't look at me
any other way than as a friend or a sister.' She felt Ginny place a hand
gingerly on her shoulder.
'How do you know he doesn't love you?'
'Honestly, Ginny!' said Hermione, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
'Isn't it obvious?'
'Listen, Hermione. Sometimes boys are a little… clueless.' She took a
deep breath, as if preparing herself for giving a lecture about Pogrebins.
'They're unbearably stupid about things like feelings and things. And he has to like you, he's just got to.
What's not to like? You're smart, you're sweet, you're pretty --'
'Only because I got help.'
' -- and you're considerate..' Ginny trailed off lamely.
Hermione noticed the distressed look in Ginny's brown eyes, which were
similar to her own. Then she felt guilty -- here she was, complaining on and on
about her love life to a girl who liked the same boy as she. 'Oh, Ginny, I'm so
sorry.' She said softly. 'I know you like Harry, too, and I'm sorry -- I'm such
a whiner.'
Ginny turned red. 'Er, no. No you're not. I've always liked Harry, but I
-- I don't think it was the real Harry I liked. I never really got to know him,
you know, and you have. I think it was Harry Potter, destroyer-of-You-Know-Who
I really liked.' She sighed and giggled abruptly. 'You deserve him.'
'Oh, Ginny, it's so impossible to hate you.' Hermione hugged Ginny like
the sister she never had. She released Ginny gently, then asked: 'What was it
you were working on, Ginny?'
Ginny turned as red as her vivid hair. 'N-nothing. Just an essay for
Charms.'
'Really? What about?' Asked Hermione interestedly.
'Like everybody says when they're in denial,' said Ginny with a dry
grin, 'nothing. What to do you say we get some juice? I'm baking in here.'
* * *
Harry sat, stunned, after Hermione left. But he was somehow grateful she
had – he didn't quite know what he would have done if she hadn't. He and
Lavender had had a sort of mutual admiration society, and were considered
boyfriend and girlfriend in their fifth year, but it wasn't official, really.
Just as he was beginning to get used to the idea of them together, Lavender had
broken off their technically non-existent relationship for some abominable
reason via owl post. His chest tightened at the memory of it.
To his immense surprise, one minute after Hermione left, two figures
Apparated beside him, right near the park bench.
Harry jumped up in surprise, then, seeing who they were, sat down again.
I am going to have a heart attack if
these people don't quit surprising me, he thought. Fred and George Weasley
were walking toward him.
'You don't do that to a guy,
you know, it can really kill someone,' said Harry jokingly, but he faltered
when he saw that Fred and George actually looked serious.
'What happened to Hermione?' George asked.
'She asked about Lavender,' he said in a barely audible voice.
Fred and George, though he hadn't told them about the break-up, seemed
to feel that this subject was not their territory. Perhaps something he and Ron
could talk about. George shifted his weight on his legs uncomfortably.
'You're sure that's all that happened?' Fred pressed for more after a
minute.
'Yeah.' Harry looked up, seeming suspicious. 'Hey, why do you guys want
to know anyway?'
Fred and George shrugged. 'Nothing. We just, er, overheard one of her and Ginny's conversations when we saw her hurl
herself in their room.' George offered.
'Nothing, really.' said Fred with another shrug.
Harry narrowed his eyes. 'What was the conversation about?' he said sharply.
George shook his head. 'We're not telling.'
Fred nodded. 'Now, we gotta go.' The two then started walking to the
Burrow.
'Wait,' said Harry, and
the two stopped to look back at him. 'Aren't you going to Disapparate?'
George smirked. 'We
just wanted to give a dramatic entrance.' The two disappeared inside.
It gets better, trust me. Really, it does! This is going
to blossom into a romance in the later chapters -- with whom, I won't say. Just
that there will be no necromancy here, in case you want Caitlin to come back.
No Ouija boards either. It starts in the trio's summer after fifth year, by the
way. Oh, yeah – sorry if I always write H/Hr/D fics. I know it's getting old
rather quick… For more of those, in case some of you are crazy and like them,
check out my fics under the name Meriadoc: http://www.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=Directory-AuthorProfile&UserID=54604
