02.
His eyes gleamed in a way that suggested staying out of trouble meant staying far, far away from him. —Sarah J. Maas
Hattie didn't get to do much exploring her first few days in Forks—she was either busy with Charlie or it was raining.
It was a shame, because the too-green forest butted up to their property perfectly. Hattie could spy a narrow walking path from Beaufort's window and it called to her, taunted her to decipher its secrets.
But there were things for her to do first.
Laden down with papers upon papers stacked in manila envelopes, Hattie spent her second day in Forks at high school. The rundown little office was dreary and looked out over a concrete parking lot full of older cars, bright against the gray skies. Her counselor hardly noticed Hattie's lack of attention.
Charlie and Ms. Cope were eking out the details of Hattie's next half of a year. It wasn't often that someone transferred schools cross-country, let alone trans-Atlantic, and as such the school had no formal system for transferring credits. Everything had to be done by hand. The grading scale was completely different between England and the United States, so they were trying not to set her up for failure due to precarious grade points.
Hattie had already taken two placement tests for core subjects (one math, one science) and was waiting for the grades to come back, but she'd talked Ms. Cope out of an English placement. Charlie and Ms. Cope were discussing US History (which Hattie knew little about) when Hattie lost herself staring out into the parking lot.
Class must have just let out. Students swarmed from one classroom to the next in rubber rain coats and umbrellas. She watched them laugh and push each other around, watched as one unlucky teen's notebook fell into a puddle. One girl carried a camera as big as she was, another boy was lugging an instrument case to-and-fro.
In particular one group caught Hattie's eye—they were congregated together, not talking, walking slowly between the buildings. It was like in a movie, in the opening scene when you can clearly pinpoint the main character because they are better lit or more in focus or just more vibrant than all the faceless characters around them. These teens were beautiful, and well dressed, but pale like corpses. Her eyes were flickering between them, three girls and three boys, impossibly beautiful, when one of them glanced up.
He seemed to be staring directly at her through the half-open blinds, but that was impossible. Hattie couldn't see his eyes from here, but his hair glinted a coppery brunette—she'd never seen anything like it, except for on the small girl next to him. Her breath was nearly knocked out of her system as said girl glanced up as well.
Luckily, Hattie was spared from the beautiful girl's gaze as Ms. Cope snapped her to attention.
"Heather? What do you think about this?"
Hattie's head jerked up and she sat straighter, blinking. Great, she'd been caught lost in her own little world. "I'm sorry, Ms. Cope—I got distracted."
The heavy-set woman nodded understandingly. "I know, we've been here a long time. We were discussing placing you in the correct history class for your grade level. You have enough history credits from your previous school that it would be a shame to set you back, and if you find yourself struggling we can provide tutors."
Relief settled in Hattie's veins. "Yes, that sounds amazing." History had been her least favorite subject—both in muggle school and magical. Not having to repeat extra history courses was news that could easily make her day.
"Perfect," Ms. Cope said approvingly. "We're just waiting on the math and science scores, and then our core subjects are covered. Now then, onto electives. Physical education is required for every class, but you still have an empty slot to fill. Colleges recommend two years of a foreign language, but it seems you have a satisfactory Latin credit—impressive. We don't offer that here, but would you like to take Spanish?"
Hattie shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face. "It'd probably be more useful than a dead language, but I think I'll skip that."
She glanced out the window hesitantly as Ms. Cope spoke more about the other electives—which, depending upon the hour block she had available, may or may not be accepting students.
A secretary came in at some point with Hattie's scores, which were as she had expected (high for science, average for math). She was placed in Biology and Algebra II, which made her scowl a little, but she could get on with it.
Thus, her choice of electives was narrowed: art, choir, or home economics. Everything else was full.
Hattie scowled harder, trying to figure out which she'd enjoy more. Art could be fun, but she wasn't that great at it—singing was out of the question, she had the tone of a cat who'd been tossed in water. And she'd ace home economics, it was something she'd been practicing since a child.
"Hattie's really good at homemaking," Charlie commented, the first he'd spoken in a while. He seemed keen to let Hattie make her own decisions, and he rolled with it in the background. "Cooking, cleaning, gardening—she's a pro."
Ms. Cope hemmed a little. "Well the objective for electives is learning and becoming better at a skill—Heather, if you don't feel home economics has anything left to offer you, perhaps you should choose one of the others."
Hattie's resolve wavered. She was going to pick home economics for the easy, assured A, but now she felt that Ms. Cope was on to her. Art it was, then.
She crossed her fingers she'd made the right choice.
—x—
The next errand was driving lessons, which Charlie insisted on. It was a few days later, but Hattie hadn't been able to get out of the house due to chronic rain and lack of transportation. With Charlie working so much, Hattie would need to figure out how to get back and forth to school most days.
Normally she would just walk, but given it rained the majority of the time in Forks, Charlie didn't feel that was an appropriate course of action. She also suspected he was feeling protective of her due to her appearance.
He found Hattie an instructor in town willing to do extended lessons, who happened to owe Charlie a favor. (Apparently, being the Chief of Police has some perks.) The man, Mr. Newton, offered Hattie driving lessons at 75% off.
Now, Hattie wasn't broke by any means—her parents, Lily and James Potter, had been pretty well off before their death. They'd left her a large account she could access anytime she wanted to and an even larger family account she'd inherit at twenty-one, plus whatever was left in their Gringotts accounts. As a kid, Professor had tutored her on accounting and monetary assets and even business etiquette, even though her family's business revenue was at a stand-still due to the war.
She guessed Professor had big dreams to see the end of the war before Hattie reached adulthood.
But Charlie, even knowing that Hattie had money, refused to hear of her paying for it. "It's a necessity," he said, gruff and a bit embarrassed. "I'm your guardian, and I wouldn't make my own kids pay for their necessities, so I'm not gonna make you."
Hattie couldn't argue with that, and didn't really want to—it made her too warm inside. So, she put away her wallet and let Charlie pay for the classes.
Her instructor, Mr. Newton, was nice enough. Blond hair, blue eyes, chipper—he owned a sporting goods store outside of town. While she drove, at first through parking lots, then back roads, and eventually on the highway, they chatted about the hiking trails in the area. Mr. Newton knew all the best ones, he claimed, and even advised her to stop by his store before going on her first trip.
"My son, Mike—he's about your age—he'd be willing to take you out if you wanted. You can borrow some gear from the store, too, if you need."
Hattie drove his minivan during these lessons, and they drove for hours. On and off the highway, in circles, practicing left turns and parallel parking. Driving was terrifying for her. Though she'd never done it back in England, driving in what would be the oncoming lane was horrifying.
But, slowly, she got better. Even the icy weather couldn't slow her down.
"And, really, you know—learning to drive in the snow is the best. That's how I taught my kids. You learn to drive in bad weather, you can drive in any weather," Mr. Newton was jabbering. Hattie thought that he'd become rather fond of her over the days they spent trapped together.
In the meantime, as Hattie got more confidence driving, she and Charlie began looking at cars. This was an exciting prospect that Hattie hadn't even considered. She test-drove fancy cars, raggedy cars, rusty cars, shiny cars—she test drove one whose seatbelts were mangled, one with no airbags. Charlie tried to convince her to just buy his buddy Billy's old truck, but it had been new in the 50s or 60s and she was, admittedly, being picky.
—x—
That first weekend, Charlie invited her fishing. He had been packing his gear when he suddenly stopped and looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time.
"You wouldn't wanna come with us, would you?" he asked, a bit awkwardly. "You haven't met the boys yet. Won't be too interesting, but Billy's gotta son your age, so at least you'd have company."
Hattie stopped where she'd been packing his lunch (a chore she delegated to herself when she found out he ate exclusively at diners or fast food joints), looking at him curiously.
Charlie fished with "the boys" (aka Harry Clearwater and Billy Black) every weekend, from what she gathered. Hattie had never been fishing, and though she was pretty sure she wouldn't enjoy the experience, she was interested anyways. Even if she wasn't, Charlie was reaching out to her, a fact that warmed her a little from the inside out.
The warmth didn't last long once she found herself on the ocean in the middle of winter.
Hattie shivered as she watched the men load Billy up onto the boat. Even wheelchair-bound, he was a tall, imposing man, with more hair than most women. He wore it pulled back at the nape of his neck, the tail sticking out under his winter cap. He radiated with a wild sort of energy that made Hattie simultaneously nervous and excitably restless.
When they met, Billy looked her up and down and asked Charlie if he fed her.
He didn't smile at her (he didn't really seem the type), and there was a glint in his eyes that somehow hinted he knew all her secrets. It made her heartbeat quicken. Though the situations were completely different, she remembered the bronze-haired boy from the school, looking up and meeting her gaze from across the parking lot.
Curious.
Harry, on the other hand, was a riot—and he didn't have such an off-putting aura about him. His was calmer, almost mellow, but she could that there was a wild streak within him. He was a little older than Charlie and Billy and the spark in his eyes ousted him as a bit of a prankster. He didn't pay Hattie much attention except to nudge Billy's son, Jacob, and tell him "She's quite the looker, son."
Charlie had chased him around with Billy (in his wheelchair) at that proclamation, nearly knocking him off the dock.
And then there was Jacob.
Jacob turned out to be a handsome, well-built teenager, all sweet smiles and chin dimples. His hair was longer like Billy's, but blowing free in the wind. His muscles were well-defined for a kid his age, and she blushed when he grinned a toothy, very white grin at her. He was nearing seventeen, like Hattie, but he was tall, surpassing already Charlie's five foot eleven inches. This made her look like a dwarf compared to him, of course.
He had an impish, mischievous nature about him—and he, too, exuded a wild, restless sort of energy. He messed about with the men and really didn't seem that interested in fishing, which made Hattie wonder why he came.
After Charlie and Harry had gotten Billy settled aboard, they loaded the fishing gear up. Jacob boarded the boat, looking as if he'd done it a million times before (knowing Billy and Charlie, he probably had), then offered Hattie a hand up.
The duo sat together in the back of the boat, watching the older men horse around like children. Jacob seemed extra diligent about watching his dad, something Hattie could admire. He gave indulgent grins when his dad barked out huge, whooping laughs as they sped out to sea.
They didn't go too far—the waves were rough, canting their boat back and forth—but when they cut the engine off, the shore was miles behind them. The men wasted little time casting their lines out, their voices dropping low and all shenanigans quieting as quickly as they'd started.
Hattie settled in with the intention of reading the book she'd brought with her, trying to tune out the rocking of the boat. It didn't quite make her nauseous, she'd had worse, but it wasn't entirely pleasant either. However, before she could open her novel, Charlie pulled her up.
"Thought you were fishing?" he chuckled. Hattie internally groaned, and Jacob, who had been lounging backward like the rocking boat was his personal soother, perked up.
"I don't know, I've never fished before," she dallied, not quite looking at Charlie.
"That's called 'learning', honey," Harry called from near the bow.
Thus, as Charlie set his pole up in a special hook, Hattie no longer had an out. He fished out a second pole for her, this one obviously meant for someone smaller than she was, and began showing her the ropes.
(All puns intended, she thought dryly.)
She didn't really get the hang of it—especially not with gloves on, the wind burning her face. Casting was easy enough, but reeling not so much. Her gloves were too slippery. The one bite she got, she couldn't reel in, and Charlie was so excited he nearly went overboard trying to help her.
They ended up getting it, a huge fish in her opinion, but Hattie was too squeamish to unhook it and made Charlie do it. Jacob was laughing quietly at her, but the men were all pretty impressed and even clicked a picture of her with it. (Charlie was also in the picture, because Hattie refused to hold the fish.)
After that, she left the fishing to the boys and curled up to try and stay out of the cold air. If only she could cast a warming charm…
"Good first catch," a voice near her ear murmured. Hattie jumped at the electric feeling that coursed through her body when Jacob's breath ghosted over her cheek. "But I take it fishing's not for you?"
She snorted. "Yeah, I don't even know if I'll be able to cook that fish."
Jacob was still lounging, seeming to enjoy the ride more than the activity. When she spoke, though, his face was canted towards hers, lips quirked. His eyes seemed to dart over her face and lips, like he hadn't seen anything quite like her before.
It set something afire in her belly, and she looked away from him, cheeks pink—and she was totally blaming it on the wind.
"What?" she asked him, maybe a bit sharper than intended.
"I like your accent," he told her. She turned her head back toward him again.
"I like yours," Hattie retaliated. He didn't have the heavy, slow accent that Billy or Harry did, but she could detect hints of it in his voice still—the way he rounded his words was different from other Americans. She knew it was the tribe's influence.
Jacob's grin lit up his face again, and Hattie was again struck by just how white his teeth were. It made her feel self-conscious.
"I don't have an accent," he protested. "But you're like Mary Poppins."
Hattie gave him a dry look. "I'm sorry I'm a little bit posh, perhaps a few too many tea parties as a child."
Jacob's uproarious laughter caused Harry to chuck something at him, whilst the other men shushed him for "scaring the fish".
By the afternoon, even the men had grown louder. The fish just weren't biting, it seemed. They chatted about their kids. Harry's daughter had gone through a nasty breakup and was still moping about. Billy insisted that it was better than his daughters (one of whom had run off to university eight hours away, the other of which was married and living in Hawaii—they were barely two years older than Hattie).
"I don't think Bella's ever had a boyfriend," Charlie quipped. "Thank god for small mercies, eh boys?"
"Got two girls to worry 'bout now, Charlie," Harry roared, looking at Hattie and Jacob curled up in the stern. Nobody else seemed to notice them, though, and Charlie groused about how Hattie was a good girl and he didn't have to worry about anything like that from her.
Then, just like that, the conversation came around to her. Harry insisted she meet his kids—which Hattie wasn't necessarily opposed to. She was just a little shy, and not naturally gifted at conversing with others her own age. She was much better smoothing down Charlie's lapels and making sure his trousers were ironed than she was making small talk with teenagers.
Conditioning, she wondered, or nature?
Nevertheless, Jacob had proven to be a happy surprise—they spent nearly the entire fishing trip in the stern, sharing Hattie's novel, while the men swore about their bad luck. When the wind nipped their cheeks one too many times, they hunkered down on the ground, using the sides of the boat as cover.
Privately, Hattie thought the fishing trip was more an excuse to get out of the house and crack open a cold one than it was to catch fish. The weather was too poor to have expected much, after all.
As the engine hummed to life, cutting the water, Hattie smiled. It wasn't necessarily an experience she'd want to relive, but she was glad she'd done it—even if she wasn't looking forward to cooking the fish she'd caught.
After they got back to the shore and docked, Jacob and Hattie watched as the men heaved Billy out of the boat. He was tall, and clearly heavy—with one arm wrapped around either man's neck, he looked regal, like a king on his throne. Harry grunted and joked that maybe he needed to lay off the fried fish.
As they walked back to Billy's house once Harry had taken off, Charlie wrapped his arm around Hattie and smiled down at her.
"Thanks for coming out with me today, kiddo," he murmured. Jacob and Billy were arguing loudly in front of them about the best way to prepare their catch. "Bella 'n Beau used to kick up the biggest fuss when I made 'em come."
Hattie burrowed into Charlie's side, feeling warm even with the biting wind.
—x—
Ah, scratch that. Billy ushered her inside once they arrived at the small red house, calling out, "Jacob! Get her warmed up, son!" as he wheeled himself up the ramp. Charlie followed him up, watching her amusedly as she shivered.
Jacob helped her inside, one hand hovering behind the small of her back. "Chilly?" he asked cheerfully, already stripping himself of his layers. The inside of the house was toasty already, but he cranked up the heat. She followed him around like a puppy as he prepared a fire, pulling her gloves and coat off as she went.
Soon she found herself under a blanket, snuggled into the couch. Jacob plopped down next to her, offering her the TV remote, but she didn't want to remove her hands from under the blankets. He flipped through the channels idly as they listened to Billy coach Charlie on how to prepare the fish for dinner.
The TV was one of those old tube-style ones and the reception wasn't the best, but eventually Jacob found a movie for them to watch. One minute they were laughing at something one of the cheesy actors said, the next she was being jostled from her position on the couch, still mostly asleep.
"Want me to take her to the car, Charlie?" a voice was murmuring.
"She looks awful peaceful doesn't she," Charlie's familiar voice hemmed. "I dunno Jake, I don't want you to hurt yourself."
Her blankets were moved aside and there were hands on her, but she couldn't be bothered to rouse herself further. Someone lifted her, cradling her like a baby, and then she was being carried.
"It's no problem, Charlie. Really! She's light as a feather."
—x—
She dreamed that night of a bronze-haired pair, a boy and a girl. They were in the forest behind her house, light filtering down upon them, and she was standing further away, watching. At once, both of their heads snapped up, eerily in sync. They were looking behind her, and she turned, but there was nothing. When she turned back, the bronze twins were gone, replaced by Jacob.
Hattie reached out for him, but the further she reached the further he was, and then the image rippled as if she'd just broken the surface of a still pond. The image change to her reflection, but she looked lifeless, harried. Her under-eyes were dark, like bruises, and her cheeks sallow—she looked like a corpse. Angry at the reminder of how she used to live, she lashed out at the image and it changed again.
There she was—no…there he was. Not much taller than she was now, with short, wild black hair and green eyes. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he held himself up confidently—how she walked now, knowing she was strong, knowing all that she had overcome. But his shoulders were tense, and his eyes pained, like everything from his past had scarred him.
It was her, but it wasn't.
He was wearing wizard's robes, which had fallen out of style a decade ago, and a gold and red tie with a House Gryffindor sigil on it—but Hogwarts had been overrun in the 80s by a Dark Wizard. Ever since then any school that got too big was attacked, too.
Hattie angrily splashed the image away, but it didn't disappear this time. The boy's features rippled and changed into hers, hair growing slowly, glasses fading away. The forest's unnerving silence gave way to a soft whispering and it was only when her reflection smirked that Hattie realized the trees were saying her name.
"Heather Henrietta," they whispered. "Heather Henrietta."
—x—
She woke in her bed, early morning light shining through her window's open curtains. Her heart was pounding. Her dream left her feeling panicky and anxious, and she couldn't get the image of her sallow, corpse-like face out of her mind. It's how she'd always felt living with the Dursleys—like a dead girl walking. Like one day she wouldn't perform her functions well enough and Petunia would stop pretending to protect her.
Like one wrong move was all it took for her life to be forfeit.
