Disclaimer: I own only the characters I create. The castle and recognizable faces are all J.K's.
January 4th
9 pm
"Mon dieu, I can't believe you're actually going to do this Dom."
Victoire cowers from the Jordan's squishy sofa, watching through splayed fingers as Cass prepares the needle. The flame at the tip of her wand licks the metal as it's sterilised and I relax in the hurriedly grabbed kitchen stool.
"Oh my god!" Vic's best friend and Cassie's older sister, Sofia returns to their living room clutching four glasses and two bottles of her favourite white wine.
"Cassandra Jordan do not put that needle into Dom's ear!" She pads across to join Vic on the mismatched sofa, Hamish's old training jersey swamping her thin frame, whilst odd thick socks adorn her feet. She curls up and pulls a scrunchie from Vic's wrist before throwing her brunette lengths into a messy ponytail.
I smirk as Cass replies.
"Oh shush Sof, I did all her other ones."
Victoire and Sofia both squeal in pain as if it's their skin being lacerated instead of mine. It's true, she has done all my other piercing and to her credit only one is slightly wonky, which arguably is my own fault for thinking she had finished before she actually had.
"You guys!" I laugh, "It'll be absolutely fine. And if it's not then we take it out and it closes up!" Victoire mimes vomiting and Sofia shakes her dark head, both resolutely looking anywhere but at me.
"Okay ready Dom?"
I nod, the hastily pulled up ponytail brushing the nape of my neck.
"3, 2,-"
"Arrrrrghhh!" The resounding crunch of people crashing together echoes out.
Cass and I whip around to find Victoire and Sofia in a heap on the floor, laughing manically and clutching saved wine glasses. Victoire had always been a screamer, ever since she emerged into the world as a ready-made golden haired angel.
"Urghh shut up you two. Muffilato."
Praise you beautiful Cassandra Jordan, blissful silence fills the cosy room despite the fact our supposedly more mature sisters are having near fits not 3 feet away.
The countdown begins again;
"3, 2, 1 aaaannd-" A shooting burn travels throughout my right ear lobe as the sharpened metal is pushed through, "Voila! Another perfect piercing by yours truly!"
Cassie dances around, her freckly, lean limbs still so tanned in January, clad in only an over sized Quidditch singlet. Oh the perks of being a famous Sports Commentators equally as sports obsessed daughter. She whips her dark waves back and forth, mimes strumming an air guitar and then bows to the single, but completely over excited audience member. Me.
The newly pierced ear lobe pounds in time with my pulse as I run a hand over the swollen flesh to find the most recent addition to what Grand-Mere lovingly calls 'a junkyard'.
"Let's have a toast!" Cassie holds up the bottle of wine and hands me an overflowing glass, un-silencing our still giggling sisters with a wave of her wand. "To not having men and not needing them!" We all look around a little perplexed until she continues, "Well apart from the fact you have Teddy" she gestures to Vic, "And you have Hamish-" she nods at her sister, "So let's just have a toast for toasts sake. HAPPY TOAST!"
Were it not for the fact that we had already consumed two bottles of gin prior, I'm sure Cassie's speech would have been far more coherent. However we enthusiastically clink our glasses together, the happy drunk fools we are.
January 7th
10 am
"Ouais Maman! I'm literally just coming!"
I hear her muttering in rapid French and pick up a few choice words which Granny Molly would scrub out with dish soap if she could understand them. Our darling mother, Fleur Delacour-Weasley was born with absolutely zero patience, and less if you were untidily dressed.
I stumble dragging Vic's old trunk, wincing slightly as the weight of it pivots on my heavily laden shoulder. Arguably, including the second cupboard was overkill, but I just couldn't be fucked to figure out what in that mess was of actual worth.
Clattering through the hallway, I stop short of Louis' pile of crazy and drop the demon trunk. Why is Lou taking two owls anyways? I'm sure darling baby boy was gifted two for being just the most wonderful ray of sunshine in the whole freaking world but two seems a little excessive.
If I'm being honest, It still feels so weird that there are only two trunks and not three to confuse. The hallway looks so spacious, despite the copious amounts of nonsense littering the floor and I yearn a little bit for those manic days of old when Daddy would hustle all three of us through the door, keeping Maman sweet with little jokes and kisses.
Vic lounges in the kitchen doorway watching the scene mournfully and wraps two woolly arms around her Weasley sweater clad body before resting a head on the doorframe.
"Dominique, Louis, have you packed everything?"
Mother dearest, however, is not nearly as sentimental when there are still two more offspring to pack off and the craziness of the entire clan to combat when we arrive at the station. Bless her sweet heart, she married into mayhem.
"Oui Mama." Louis and I chorus in perfect harmony, She really did have us trained well. Like obedient sheepdog.
"Je n'en crois pas mes yeux!" Vic laughs before Dad appears behind and places two broad weathered palms on her narrow shoulders.
"English please, my dear."
"Ouais Papa, I was just saying I can't believe my eyes that Lou and Dom may manage to get to school this year without forgetting anything."
She giggles but the despondent expression clouds her face again and a significant look passes between my parents. Dad scoops Vic into his arms and she hugs his middle as they wisely stay outside of the luggage chaos.
"What was it last year Lou? Your wand?"
Louis at least has the brains to look a little ashamed at Victoire's teasing whilst Mum clicks her tongue and Dad winks at him behind her back. I drop my backpack and reach for Vic to say goodbye. She hugs me tightly and I frown as the sharp curve of her hipbone pushes against my tummy. When did that happen?
"Love you, ma grande souer," I whisper into her ear, an old habit we had never grown out of, squeezing her a little tighter.
"Love you, ma petite souer." She hugs me close before whispering, "Tiens – moi au courant, I want to hear all about Max!"
Ha, good one sis. There would be zero development occurring there, of that I am more than sure.
Somehow we make it to Kings Cross with 20 minutes to spare and are immediately scooped up by the rest of the predominantly ginger unit. Aunt Ginny gives me a long squeeze before slipping a few gallons into my back pocket, all behind Maman's watchful eyes.
"Do get into some trouble Dommy, it keeps me young hearing your mother rant about it."
She grins in her mischievous way before moving on to shower countless kisses on embarrassed Louis' unwilling head, whilst Granny Molly immediately accosts me, my lapse in attention paid for dearly.
"Dominique, are you eating enough? And what are all these piercings? You and your father will be the death of me… How's Vic? Is she eating enough? She looked so thin at Christmas… Maybe I'll pack up a few of her favourite treats and send them back with your mother-"
She's patting me all over and tucking hair behind my ears as she rambles, stopping to inspect the numerous earrings occupying the small area of flesh.
"You listen to me Dominique Gabrielle Weasley, I am not to hear about anymore of your 'adventures' this term, I know your Aunt Ginerva encourages you but you're keeping my hair white with worry!"
I'm uncomfortable as I know how she frets over the expansive brood and have no doubt that I, along with James and Fred, are in the top tier of her concern list. I scuff my boots into the platform, "Yes Gran, I'll try harder I promise."
"Good. Now come give your old Grandma a hug and we'll say nothing more of it."
And with that I know that my casual telling off is over, as Gran never holds a grudge against any of us, despite the number of scrapes we find ourselves in. Sure, she's still annoyed with Maman for allowing Dad to get another tattoo but according to family legend, they'd rubbed each other up the wrong way forever, their casual sniping is almost a comfort now.
Gran kisses my cheek and hugs me tightly, muttering about how I'm "just like Aunt Ginny at this age" which I think that makes her worry a little more as well. But she eventually lets me go and moves onto the next grandchild within arms reach, which unfortunately for them is a bent over James and Fred clutching an object suspiciously similar to a restricted Weasley Wizarding Wheeze's product.
"Frederick Weasley! What is that? James Potter do not start with your stories… now listen here you two, I will not hear about any more letters sent home from that school-"
I laugh and slip away from the undulating sea of family, kissing Maman on both cheeks before falling into a bear hug from Uncle Charlie, surprised he's still around from Christmas.
"Have fun kid and don't stress your mum out too much. She moans to Bill who whines to me, so you're on notice."
I laugh as he ruffles my hair affectionately and then moves on to give Louis a firm handshake before enveloping him too in the bear grip so perfected from years of wrangling dragons.
As he steps away a much smaller family unit is observing our chaos with a friendly, inquisitive look. The matching black trunks neatly stacked around them are each inscribed with a smart family crest and the initials ESB. The woman nervously checking and rechecking each trunk is dressed impeccably, her jangling gold bracelets so heavy on delicate wrists.
"Dom!" Her husband's deep boom rumbles across the platform as he removes both hands from an immaculately pressed navy suit. "How the hell are you?"
This exuberant enthusiasm is probably what I like best about Ava's dad; he is perpetually pleased to see me.
"Very well thank you Charles, how are you?"
"Oh you know me old sport, chugging along. Cecilia's got us in to something called Yoga-" His rosy cheeks crinkle slightly as if the concept still perplexes him, despite his active involvement. "But everything else is grand, Henry's in London with your sister's motley crew and Ava should be around here somewhere…"
We both look round but see no sign of the caramel-haired waif, probably already off finding Cass.
"Dominique, my darling. How are you?"
Ava's mother has finally stopped her frantic double-checking routine and kisses me on both cheeks; her floral perfume a pleasant distraction from the smoky Kings Cross.
"I'm fine thank you Celia, Charlie's been telling me all about your yoga endeavour?"
"Oh Charles, are you still whinging about it?" She slaps him playfully on the arm, a familiar gesture between the two. "Yes my dear, we have indeed started to be more in touch with our natural spirits-"
She witters on in classic Celia style, all about karmic energy as Charles observes her with a dubious expression of unconditional affection.
"I'll put your mother in contact with Alejandro, she will love him, he's just so in touch with the higher energy source."
Charles stifles another booming giggle, as I'm sure he's sharing my mental image of Daddy practicing Yoga.
"Oh yes! That sounds great, she said she was looking for something to get back into shape after Christmas."
Mum had been harping on for weeks about the imaginary weight she gained whilst we visited Grand-Mere and Grand-Pere over Christmas, so I'm sure another fad exercise would help, especially if she and Celia could witter on about it together.
A groan sounds and Ava sidles up next to me, a gentle red flush gracing her freckles.
"Why are you two still talking about Yoga? It was bad enough watching you try to do it…"
"Evangeline, your father and I are just interacting with the positive spiritual forces in the natural world." Celia bows her richly coloured brunette head and clasps two heavily ringed hands together. "Namaste, my darling girl."
"Oh my god" Ava groans once more, whilst I am silently dissolving into unstoppable giggles behind her. "Dom, I'm so sorry." She turns to me and scrunches up her delicate nose, circling a finger next to her head to indicate that her parents were indeed, crazy.
"No, I love it." I giggle out before composing myself. "Namaste Spence."
She throws me a look filled with the promise to kill, and starts counting the trunks before saying her goodbyes.
"Darling promise me you'll write."
Celia kisses her on both cheeks, before running a hand over Ava's gradually reddening cheek.
"Be good, my girl-
Spence embraces her Dad lovingly, a shared understanding between them to curtail the imminent Karmic goodbye speech.
"Namaste, my love!"
"Oh shush woman. You're not Ghandi incarnate." But still, Charles holds a firm arm around Celia's waist as she watches us move away, her watery eyes a clear giveaway.
"Bye Spencer-Brown's, I'll look after her!" My call echoes around the emptying platform as we roll our trolleys towards the baggage carriage.
"We've heard that one before Dominique Weasley!" Ava and I both laugh as we board the Hogwarts Express; Charles William Henry Spencer-Brown, Duke of Devonshire, really was a good sport.
January 7th
6 pm
"-So then, Mindy climbs down the side of the house, catches the tube to Camden, forgets Dad can apparate and is dragged home literally kicking and screaming." Ava giggles so hard I'm sure she's wetting herself under the Gryffindor table, and I smile remembering how livid Lee was, having to chase his youngest daughter across London.
"Wait, where were you and Sofia? Surely one of you could have gone and fetched her?"
I cut in as Cass opens her mouth,
"Cass accidentally drank the remaining contents of Granny Molly's Christmas booze and was passed out on my floor, mumbling about someone's beautiful green eyes."
Now usually, Cass's tanned skin wouldn't show a blush if you danced naked with your equally naked grandma in front of it, but she positively maroon-ed at this memory, spluttering out some nonsense about having "never said anything of the sort" and "friends don't let friends drink on empty stomachs."
Pfffft Cassandra Jordan could have eaten an entire years worth of food and it wouldn't have made a dent on the alcohol coursing around her bloodstream.
"So anyway, Dad tries to side apparate her home but she's holding onto a lamp post and almost splinches them both-"
I tune out from the story's continuation, having heard it repeatedly over the holidays, each rendition told with a varying amount of swearing depending on the teller.
The star of the escapade is seated happily at the Ravenclaw table chatting animatedly with Lysander and Lorcan Scamander, gesturing wildly with her thin, freckled limbs. I'm sure her version of that night involved far less wrongdoing on her part.
The Great hall is a literal melting pot tonight, kids from all houses flitting around manically waiting for the gong to sound signalling them back to their own tables. I spy Louis being patted on the back by an older student and wonder what prank he's already pulled with bloody Fred and James, no doubt involving explosions courtesy of Uncle George.
Kit Macmillan listens in carelessly to Cassie's anecdote, smirking slightly as she rattles off the inventive swear words her little sister had screamed through central London. He lazily runs a broad hand through blonde hair and looks to the large double doors again, probably noting the absence of the Wood twins from our little group. Archie and Max always met us at Hogsmeade station as their home in Kinross basically neighboured the village, but they had been no shows when we pulled in and weirdly still absent when we all sat down at the Gryffindor table.
Almost completely identical in looks the Wood boys have Hogwarts wrapped around their little finger. Roguish Scotch charm coupled with the fact their dad Oliver donates heavily to the upkeep and improvement of all our sports facilities, a fact that makes them basically untouchable should the aging Madame Hooch be present.
Kit shuffles in his seat and grins as the first years begin edging in, each tinier than the first. For probably the first time in the school's ancient history there isn't a Weasley child amongst the throng and it feels weird not eagerly waiting to raucously over-cheer as the newest poor family soul is sorted.
"Oh my god, what are they doing?"
I look to where Ava's pointing and see two over-sized first years trying to disguise themselves behind Hagrid as he plods heavily between the tables. I'm pretty sure both the cloaked figures are on their knees as they shuffle jerkily along in his half giant wake and it becomes apparent that they may not be quite so new as my inattentive brain first reckoned.
The group passes by the Hufflepuff table and two Seventh Years clap one hood on the back, their laughter spreading as an apparent joke is shared. It's only as they level with our table that it becomes glaringly obvious that the sliding, bended knee midgets are in fact Max and Archie Wood, outrageously late for the feast.
As they reach us Kit clears a space and the two slide in to a smattering of applause and general laughter from the rest of the hall. Archie looks to Ava sheepishly who reaches across and runs an open palm over his slightly bristled cheek laughing as he kisses her hand with blue chattering lips.
"Oh stop it you two, I know you saw each other last week."
Cassie's tolerance for Personal Displays of Affection was minimal at the best of times and apparently tonight was no different.
"Where have you guys been?!"
The Wood's observe their god sister cautiously; "Well it depends dear Cassandra, whether you are going to blab to your mother who will harp to ours whether we tell you or not."
"I won't say a word! Captain's promise." She uses a code they created as kids to indicate the strongest promise a person could make. Obsessed with pirates they had decided that a Captain would rather die than spill his ship's secrets and thus the phrase was born.
"Well basically, we promised Mum that we'd finish painting the shed before sundown-"
"But then genius twin" Archie jerks his head towards Max, "thought it would be intelligent to fly above the roof, throw the paint on top and then spread it with our wands-"
"It was a good idea Arch! It just needs less paint next time-"
"There's not going to be a next time dipshit!"
Cass is uproariously laughing whilst they stare each other down:
"Anyways, so the paint goes on and we're trying to spread it but I guess the technique was a little off because the paint is covering everything. West Kinross Forest, the bottom Quidditch posts, Dad's training brooms… basically everything is absolutely fucked. So Dad's trying to fix it now and Mum gave us a two hour bollocking." Max shudders as he finishes and Archie winces for it's well known that a Katie Wood bollocking really is a thing to see.
Max eases into conversation with Kit whilst Archie sneakily holds Ava's hand between the dinner plates and Cass bounces a lean leg up and down, no doubt eager for the feast to begin. If it weren't for the tiny differences between the two, Max and Archie would be near perfect copies of each other, alike in almost every way. It takes a little time to notice but Archie's eyes twinkle a very light grey blue whilst Max's are richer flecked with tawny-green inside the irises. And whilst they're both well over 6 feet, with dark, slightly unruly hair; Archie has an inch on his brother, which he makes note of constantly.
However, both are broad in the shoulder with honed, wind-beaten muscles from countless training sessions. Personally, I find the defining factor to be their hands. When they were little Max tried to punch his older brother Hamish and accidentally put his arm through a window, slicing his hand completely open. Now, a thin white scar stretches the length of his right middle finger to his wrist, laced with other pale lines from a wild Scotch boy's childhood adventures in their wooded land. He always says that Lara hates that story, which doesn't surprise me, delicate flower that she is. And in fact, it's only now I notice that Max hasn't scampered off to see Lovely Lara yet. How bizarre.
"Please Minnie, I beg of you, keep this short." Cassie mutters under her breath, as our Headmistress takes to her feet and I resign myself to a little doze before we can finally eat.
Praise the glories of being a self-diagnosed narcoleptic. I can sleep anywhere.
January 12th
10 pm
So I realise I never explained who Lovely Lara actually is.
Lovely Lara is one of those girls who sweats sex and looks good doing it. You know the type; they could slip into a room quiet as a mouse, but suddenly there's no one looking anywhere else but them, you included. The room could be pitch black and yet they would burn hot with desire, the peripheral haze of sensuality and want hanging dense on their smooth skin.
I can still remember that for a long time, Vic's friends nicknamed her 'Jail bait' and cursed out the fact that she was so much of a woman where they wanted but still too much of a girl where it mattered.
But then summer happened. And summer happened to her hard. If you blinked you'd have missed it, but of course no one blinked when it came to Lara. No one did much but stare when it came to Lara.
She was in the year above us but suddenly she was a world away. The summer after our fourth year, and her fifth, brought with it developments which caused Ava's brother Henry, to bite his figurative fist but literally groan as she slunk past him at Kings Cross. It was his first September as just another hand waving goodbye, rather than a familiarly cheeky face at the Gryffindor table. But to Lara he was simply another male astounded at the luscious span of her hips and curve of her waist.
The worst bit was, that whilst these men fell, Lara blushed. And whilst admirers flocked, she quite literally fled. Vic, bless her sweet soul, went on an absolute rampage after finding Lara distraught in the sixth floor broom closet, because 'Touchy Tim' (substitute teacher from hell) had made a move in one of their remedial potions lessons.
And to be fair, it wasn't like she had asked to mature as quickly as she did, but god knows it was hard to feel empathy when she felled each masculine tree with a quick glance and subtle sway. Arguably, if she was surgically dissected, there's not one singularly, outstandingly beautiful feature to ring the siren bell… but compounded; the rich hair, pillowy, full lips and downy eyelashes are lust incarnate. Now, before I'm accused of anything, I don't wish the witch any harm. In fact, I think the real kicker is that Lara, for all her innate carnality, is a resoundingly lovely person.
Which makes it reallly, really hard to wish her any ill; especially when Max spans a seemingly casual but proudly possessive hand on the arch in her back.
I mean, obviously, the jealousy doesn't stem from it being Max holding her. More the fact that it's overwhelmingly clear he enjoys her for her, rather than her assets. They started dating during our OWL mocks last year and suddenly, the unavoidably lovely Max Wood had claimed his achingly untouchable Aphrodite. They became this perfect image of naïve, lustful infatuation, and fuck me did it burn the back of my eyelids.
And so, during that historically cold winter, Max took up Lara and I took up smoking minty cigarettes on the Astronomy Tower during mealtimes. Ava called them 'bitch sticks' whenever I pulled out the colourful cardboard carton and Cass would laugh, noting how fitting the pairing was.
Max willingly picked his substance to abuse and I picked mine and if I'm honest I'm not really sure which provided the biggest high. If anything, I think I was a little jealous of the hit I knew Lara was ingesting daily. Sure, the memory's a little tattered now from constant dissection, and obviously I know it didn't mean anything. But a one night hit from Max Wood transcends any material high out there. And trust me, I've searched high and low for a similar one.
No, no. That's not right. I've been searching for one better. Or, maybe one worse.
I guess, I'm not really sure anymore.
Given my time again, I would scream at (only just) 15 years old me, I would scream until hoarse with exhaustion:
"Don't lose your virginity to Max Wood."
I would scream at (only just) 15 years old, little lost me:
"Don't lose your virginity to Max Wood, drunk on smuggled fire whiskey (and the fact a boy is finally looking at you the way they look at girls like Lara and Vic)."
And then I would falter, because it's clear that (only just) 15 years old, little lost me is determined to be desirable to someone. To anyone.
"Don't lose your virginity to Max Wood, drunk on smuggled fire whiskey (and the fact a boy is finally looking at you the way they look at girls like Lara and Vic) and expect him to be there in the morning."
Because he won't.
And it will hurt you like a fucking bitch.
January 12th
11 pm
Sorry. Took a ciggie break to calm down.
Yes, I actually am aware that smoking will kill me.
But, you see, the problem with talking about fourth year me, is that it brings with it all this anxiety that I might still be that frightened, unsure girl. I'm not, you know, but it just makes my heart beat a little louder for a moment or two.
However. I majorly digress.
Because apparently the times they are a 'changing. And had Cass not almost wrecked my entire life in one fell swoop, we would have never known it was so.
Beautiful, caring, double-jointed Cassandra Jordan has a tendency to rush into spaces. And this evening, she lived up to her reputation, bursting into the dorm replete with sodden Quidditch Uniform and squelching mud-covered boots.
"Dom, I think I'm dead."
Our Cass can be a little dramatic sometimes.
"Dom. Everything hurts-"
She kicks off one ruined shoe, uncaring as it slides well under Ava's bed.
"And I can't feel my toes and I'm pretty sure I'm dying and I want to go to bed-"
She loses both leather pads and the thick, knitted jersey, throwing them all to the floor in a rush of shivering vengeance.
"But I have charms to do and I hate this and I hate training in the cold-"
The unhappy Gryffindor seeker now stands in just her woollen thermals, pulling viciously at the expert French braid, I caringly knotted into her hair hours ago.
"And I especially hate Kit Macmillan, the absolute fuckwit that he is."
Finally divested of her soaked outerwear, the wind beaten soul starfishes face first onto my bed, her continued moans muffled softly by the heavy down duvet.
The final statement isn't a new revelation; Kit and Cass have always rubbed each other up the wrong way. She finds his constant need for sexual gratification in the form of a long list of conquests to be 'demeaning' and 'disgusting' whilst he just finds her downright mulish. They barb at each other constantly, nipping at the other's ego until blood is drawn and one of the rest of us has to step in and stop the circling crows. It's a very old routine and whilst he probably called her a bitch during training, I'm sure she called him far worse. But I can help with the rest;
"Just use my Charms notes Jord, I copied Ava's during study hall."
"mphmpgh mghperh, smpearmph aghrmph"
"Turn over genius, I can't hear a word you're saying."
She turns over and fixes two dark, doleful eyes on me.
"That would be absolutely amazing Dom, thankyou, thankyou, thank YOU!"
Energy renewed, she scrambles up to the top of the bed, and tries to cuddle all her gratitude into me, but promptly knocks over the ink pot in doing so.
"Oh fuck!"
And that's just classic Cass, spilling ink all over my duvet, but she's done far worse in the years I've known her, so I'm not hugely concerned.
"I'm so, so sorry Dom!"
And that's when I see the black liquid seeping throughout the painfully thin pages of my diary, so stupidly left open by yours truly.
"Wait, Scogurify… Scougiriffy. No that's not it…
Ooh I know what to do-"
And she's clambered up from the bed, disappearing into the next room; my ruined journal cradled carefully in a panicked, frantic embrace.
"Cassie, what are you doing- What is that?!"
I can hear Ava's absolute perplexity from inside our communal washroom.
"Is that Dom's diary ?"
Poor Spence has obviously been ambushed mid-bath by calamity Cassie.
And then the most horrifically, unambiguous sound of my painstakingly recorded memories being thrown into a full tub splashes resoundingly from the bathroom.
Fuck. My. Actual. Life.
I groan and try to steel myself for the undoubted loss of each precious entry and blinking ferociously to stop the hot tears pricking the back of my eyes.
"Dom, come here! I think it's working"
I erupt into the cosy bathroom scene to find a half soaked Cass, wand drying an amazingly ink-free book whilst a naked Ava subtly drops her wand back by the side of the bath. She always was skilled at non-verbal incantations and now I wonder if perhaps it was her talent and not Cassie's 'dip' that saved my most priceless possession.
And so that's how our impromptu bathroom saga has continued. Cassie carefully passing her wand over the front and back of each page, trying desperately to rinse any moisture from the pages she so almost, very nearly wrecked beyond all repair.
I can still see her trying to read each entry as she does though. Not so sneaky now, hey Cass?
Ava, true to her calm self, accepted that she had acquired two extra bathing companions and continued to form intricate shapes from the copious amounts of bubbles floating atop the bath water. She fashioned a pirates hat and proudly exclaimed that she would sail the seven seas, but then made the hat into a boat and watched it whoosh around the liquid surface, tiny crewmates walking the plank and hobbling about on peg legs. She then re-forms the boat and a humongous bubble beard dangles precariously from her chin. She keeps stroking it pensively, looking skywards as if searching for inspiration and I can't help but giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of our situation washes over me.
But the giggle dies quickly in my throat as it catches on a strained vocal chord, worn delicate from one too many menthol cigarettes and late nights.
Not that I would ever admit it. To have everyone stare at me with vindictive judgement, as if they always knew my little muggle indulgence was actually a tiny crutch both crippling and supporting. Quite literally never gonna happen.
I'll just keep crying strep throat until old Pomfrey removes my tonsils, like I've been begging her to for months now. We're wizards for Merlin's sakes, it would take less that 20 minutes. She can sell them on the school hospital ward black market for all I care. Just take the fuckers out.
Until then, I'll just puff a little lighter. Maybe not inhale so much. Or maybe not inhale so deeply that I stop being able to tell you where the tobacco ends and my bloodstream begins. I wonder if Lovely Lara has ever tried a cigarette? I wonder if any actual addiction has actually brushed her virgin lips.
"Spence, where's our resident sex-kitten Lara? I haven't seen her for ages now. At least, not since before Christmas break."
Perhaps she started a brothel for other ridiculously good-looking teenage girls?
Ha. Ha. Me, bitter?
Ava stops her careful ministrations trying to persuade the newly formed tiny bubble sailors to stop jumping overboard, and looks at me with a little confusion muddying the otherwise extremely clear, grey pupils.
"Max broke up with her, so I think she's been giving all of us a wide berth. Self-preservation or something. Can't say I blame her."
And after dropping bombshell revelation number one, our darling friend returns to her foam pals, humming a soft tune as she does so.
"I'm sorry, Max did what?!"
Cass is spluttering, astounded, from her position on the floor, almost singeing a middle page of the journal before catching herself and fanning the book wildly around her head.
"I literally just had 4 hours of Quidditch with him and he didn't seem any different at all." She stops as if to mull over whether in fact her god-brother had been any more insane than usual. "He was a little manic but he's kind of always a bit of a maniac on the pitch so I didn't think anything of it."
"Well, they ended at the end of last term so he's had a while to get over it I suppose."
"Spence, how have you been keeping this quiet for so long!"
Another page almost burnt. Another wild diary fanning circuit around Cassie's head.
"I don't really know, I felt kind of bad for her and then Arch asked me not to say anything, for a little bit at least… and then I guess I forgot. But Katie, bless her, is over the moon. Says she made 'life far too easy for him' and-"
Ava's shocking revelations are now punctuated with bubble covered air quotations.
"That he 'doesn't need anyone to boost his ego any further', which did not go down well at all."
For the record, I absolutely love Max and Archie's mum, Katie.
She's has this aura of kindness that surrounds her and when you're near to her it surrounds you too. I always say she's the human equivalent of a really hot cup of tea after a freezing, wet walk home. But, don't be mistaken. She tolerates absolutely no shit and will not take a single prisoner if you try her. If you would like to see three grown Scottish men cower in front of a toffee haired, elf of a woman, I suggest that you head to Kinross immediately.
The only reason I say three and not four men, is because her husband Oliver, is away at training camp with Puddlemere. But the moment he's back, it is four giant Scotsmen toeing a very clear line.
Love is Katie and Katie is love, whether it takes the form of a warm hug or a sharp slap on the wrist. Plus, she'll drink you under the table, and then dance on top of it probably pulling Cass's mum, Alicia up with her.
Like I said, she's an absolute babe.
"Yeah, I can imagine." Cass concurs, "I never got the impression Auntie Katie didn't like Lara but she was always saying to Mum how she wants the boys to be challenged. Like so much came so easily for them: 'good at Quidditch, good academically, good looks, outgoing' blah, blah, blah. You know how they go on."
Cass mimics her mother and godmother's incessant chatter, before rolling her eyes and turning back to the half dry object in her lap.
Ava pipes up from what I realise must be a rapidly chilling bath;
"Well when I went up to see Arch after Christmas, Max was basically going stir crazy but taking it out on everyone else-" she stops to reapply more bubble bounce to her foam bikini, "and he kept goading Hamish into a fight whenever the boys were alone. But one day he majorly pushed and Hamish had had enough, so he turned around and smacked Max here." she points at the bottom right hand sight of her jaw. "Oliver kicked them both outside to fight it off or whatever and then Katie laid into him massively."
"Wait, she laid into Max for fighting or for being a dick to everyone?"
Cass murmurs in agreement, obviously a little confused like me by all the testosterone coursing through the story.
"She basically ripped into him for taking the Lara situation out on his brothers and that family is family and on and on. You know how they are with the whole 'Wood Clan' stuff. So yeah, it was a little manic… but I definitely heard your name in amongst the shouting, Dom."
I'm almost completely sure I've misheard Spence.
"What? Why the hell was my name brought up?"
"I couldn't really hear, you know how loud they all are, but it was something about you and 'unfinished' something. Archie wouldn't explain when I asked but Hamish was mocking Max for not being able to handle his own business, basically."
I had never told Cass or Ava about the mistake Max and I made and so Ava's words sent cold, wet chills running the length of my spine. I just didn't want them to be embarrassed for me, or even worse, to pity me. I'd be absolutely humiliated.
Max and I had no unfinished business to go over and we had silently agreed to never talk about what happened and we never did. So why Hamish was banding my name around during family spats, I have absolutely no idea.
Like quite literally completely baffled.
"Throw me a towel Dom, I'm shrivelling at the speed of light."
Lady Evangeline was indeed looking more and more like a freckled raisin.
But a beautiful freckled raisin none the less.
(She made me say that).