Stay Young, Go Dancing

Chapter 4—December

Thunder clouds forming, cream white moon, everything's gonna be okay soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day.—"Game Shows Touch Our Lives" by The Mountain Goats

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit, I woke up feeling like I was going to puke. But that was pretty much the norm for me considering I was, well, pregnant. And then it hit me that, tomorrow, this would all be over. I wouldn't be pregnant anymore. This thought bothered me more than I thought it would. Pregnant was a state of being that I sorely resented. I didn't want it.

So why did the smallest little bit of sadness seep into me and settle, like a stone in my stomach, dragging me down?

I rose and tittered about with my friends, choosing an outfit for my "date", before we all headed down to breakfast in the Great Hall. I was going through the motions, acting like I thought they would expect me to act. I didn't want them suspecting anything, so with my behavior fairly normal, no one looked twice at me. Thankfully, Eve was nowhere to be found. According to Charlotte, she had gone down to breakfast early. She had a date with Aaron Moore, a sixth year Gryffindor. If I got through this day, I resolved to send that boy a thank you card, for taking Eve out of the picture. The last thing I needed today was Eve's poor attitude.

As we sat down at the Hufflepuff table, I caught Al's eye and immediately blushed. The girls, sadly, noticed and began to tease me, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I was far too focused on Albus, who after a quick nod to me, went back to conversing with Scorpius and Rose, who was also sitting at the Slytherin table. He seemed cool, collected, almost…unaffected by thoughts of what was going to happen today. I, however, was a mess. I was nervous and, now that the nausea had faded, thanks to one of Madame Sullivan's anti-nausea potions, I could finally realize that the queasiness I was feeling had to do with my worries and nerves, rather than pregnancy. I nibbled on my toast and waved off my friends when they insisted I eat something more.

Eventually, people started to exit the Great Hall and head down to the village.

"You girls go on ahead," I urged. "I'm going to wait for Al." I forced a smile and the three of them went off to the village without looking back at me.

I was nervous. So so nervous. There was so much that could go wrong today. Someone could find out. Our cover story wasn't exactly air tight. And what if something went wrong with the procedure? Is this really what I wanted? I could keep the baby, I really could. Al would be supportive…I think. I'm certain his family would be.

No. I shook my head, trying to physically remove the thoughts from my head. I didn't want it. This wasn't right. I was seventeen and there was no way I could raise a baby when I had a hard enough time taking care of myself and my dad on occasion. With a sigh, I told myself once more that this was the right decision. This was the right thing to do. It was okay for me to have some second thoughts, but in the end, I needed to summon what little courage I had and stick to the plan

I drank some pumpkin juice and looked around the Great Hall, which was starting to look more and more deserted. Finally, Rose and Scorpius rose from the Slytherin table and waved goodbye to Al. I took that as my cue. I nodded my head towards the exit, stood up, and left the Great Hall. I waited in the Entrance Hall for Al to meet up with me. There were still a couple people milling about, chatting, before heading down to the village, but they were so caught up with their own goings on that I wasn't too worried about them noticing me and Al. Al emerged and walked over to me.

"Hey," he said, offering me a small smile. He ran his hand through his hair, which calmed me more than you think. This was the first sign of nervousness that I had seen in him and knowing that I wasn't the only one feeling it went a long way.

"Hi." I didn't know what to say after this. Hesitantly, he took my hand. I felt a little shiver go through me at the contact, but chalked it up to the fact that it was drafty in the Entrance Hall.

"Shall we?" I nodded, not really trusting myself to speak. We walked together, hand in sweaty hand, down to the Hospital Wing. Madame Sullivan was waiting for us in her office when we arrived. I can't remember what she said, I was far too jittery, but Madame Sullivan's ramblings and instructions only made me more nervous. Instead, I focused on Albus' hand in mine, gripping me just a slight bit too hard. I didn't mind. For some reason, it made me feel safe. The next thing I knew, we were standing before the fireplace. Madame Sullivan was standing off to the side, her arms crossed, staring at us impatiently. Seeing that I wasn't about to do anything—hell, I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing at that point—Al reached out for the floo powder and threw it in the fire. Pulling me into the now green flames, Al spoke clearly and loudly, "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries" and we were whisked away.

Gray was a sad color. It was the color of loneliness and isolation. The walls of the recovery room were painted gray. I suppose it was meant to be calming and subduing, but it was also sorrowful. It was a fitting color for the room. I hated gray. It made me think of the sky in the wintertime, just before it started to snow, like the day of my mother's funeral. Everything was deadened by the color gray. And while they tried to brighten the room up with a couple of framed pictures with brighter colors, the only way to describe the room was sad.

I was crying and although the assistant healer assured me that it was a side effect of the sedation potion they gave me to calm my nerves during the procedure, I was pretty sure that I was also crying because I felt sad. And the sad color of the walls only made the feeling worse. At this point, I didn't even wipe away the tears. They were coming too quickly and I was still feeling lethargic. The door opened and Al walked in, taking a seat next to the cot that I was lying down in. I felt a bit bitter about his presence. There was an inappropriate intimacy to the fact that I was so completely vulnerable in this moment and he hadn't really earned the right to witness it. He shouldn't get to see me like this. Not when he disliked me so thoroughly.

"The healer said everything went really well. They just want to hold you for an hour to make sure there are no complications." I knew that. The assistant healer who brought me here had told me as much. Silence. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. The potion is making me cry."

"So I can see." Delicately, he picked up a tissue from the box on the bedside table and wiped my face. I grabbed hold of his hand and stopped him, taking the tissue from him and slowly cleaning myself. He wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't even my friend. It was just…too close.

"I'll be okay. Once I stop crying."

"Well, that's good." Silence once again. This time, tinged a bit with the awkwardness that Al seemed to carry around with him to use during moments like this with me. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Why not?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I really thought about them. I probably should have said no. The potion was making me let my guard down, so I didn't think before I talked.

"Why did you sleep with me?" Oh hey there guilt and shame! It's been a while since I've seen you guys. I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks from my blush.

"It's difficult to explain."

"You said it was a mistake down in the kitchens," he reminded me.

"Mistake isn't the best word for it. I really don't know. It's just…well…I wanted to at the time. And then when it was done, I realized that I didn't. It was an impulse decision on my part. And only after the fact did I realize just how much damage I had done."

"So if you didn't want to have sex with me, why did you?"

"I told you, at the time I wanted to. But I was drunk and not in my right mind. I wish I could explain it, I really do, but I've yet to come up with a reason as to why I make most of the poor choices in my life."

"So you regret it?" He pressed.

"I regret…not thinking it completely through. It was stupid. I was toying with you for the hell of it, and I'm not proud of that fact. And then avoiding you, I guess. I regret that too. It wasn't the most mature way of going about things."

"If you regret it, and you think it was a mistake, then was it…bad?" I laughed lightly at this.

"Is that what you're worried about, Potter? Whether your bedroom prowess was up to standard?" It was his turn to flush. "Don't worry. From what I remember it was, well, good."

"Good?"

"Not mind blowing, or anything, but then again, I doubt two drunk teenagers are capable of that." He chuckled. "I think what I regret most is that I hurt you. I didn't mean to. And if I had for a moment just stopped to think, I would like to believe that I would have stopped it before it got too far. Because you're one of the good ones, Al. You really are. Far too good for a girl like me. And it tears me up inside to know that I made you even a little bit jaded, a little bit cynical, a little bit harsh. So I'm sorry." I closed my eyes then, not wanting to see his reaction, although I could feel his eyes on me, boring into me, observing me, dissecting me.

"You don't have that much of an effect on me, Campbell," he finally said, which made a fresh wave of guilt wash over me, because I knew it was a lie. I wondered if I should confess and tell him what I overheard, that I knew that he liked me back in September, but I managed to hold my tongue. Al asked me no more questions. After a moment, Al grabbed my hand (I don't know why) and he didn't let go until it was time to leave. I let him. His grip was familiar and soothing, calming. A comfortable silence settled around us, something that was completely foreign to me. Perhaps it was the sedation potion, but those minutes while I was waiting in the recovery room with Al was the first time I had been at ease in the quiet for as long as I could remember.

We returned, stumbling out of the fireplace, back at Hogwarts. Al was still holding my hand. Madame Sullivan wasn't in her office—I assumed she was in the wing, taking care of a patient.

"Well…"Al started. Now that we were back at school, the awkwardness and unease between us had returned.

"Thanks for coming with me," I whispered and wiped furiously at my face. I was still a bit weepy, but the healer said that it would wear off soon enough.

"I wanted to go," Al said with a shrug. "We still have time to go down to Hogsmeade, if you want." I shook my head no.

"I just want to go lay down."

"Okay, let me walk you back." I was too drained from the day to put up a fuss. I didn't say much on our walk back to the Common Room. Usually it was me who was babbling, filling in the silence, but I was just too tired to bother. That meant that the duty fell to Al who, in his own quiet fashion, talked wildly about Quidditch. I patiently nodded along, although I wasn't really paying attention. When we arrived, I didn't immediately walk into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

"Thanks again. Really. I mean, this wasn't a fun place to be on Hogsmeade Saturday and, well, your presence made me feel better about everything." Impulse took hold of me and I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He blushed and internally I winced. It was an insignificant action, a gesture of thanks and nothing more, but in my complicated relationship with Al, everything held more meaning than it should have. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea—whatever that idea happened to be. When he didn't say anything in response, I ran inside the common room and up to the dorms to go lay down in bed.

Hours later, I was curled up in bed, still crying. I didn't know why I was still crying. The potion had surely worn off by that point. But I wasn't thinking about the why, just doing what I wanted. And I wanted to cry. Everyone else was down at dinner and I'm sure that my absence was noticed by my friends, but I couldn't handle them right now. I couldn't handle the useless talk, the pointless gossip, or the stupid questions. They didn't know and it was going to stay that way, but I couldn't just slap a smile on my face and playfully talk about my "date" with Al.

So I cried, quietly, in my room, by myself. But it wasn't long until I was disturbed. The door to our dorm opened and Irene quietly entered. She startled when she saw me but then grew very concerned. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped she would leave me alone. Of course, she didn't. Irene was the quiet one of our group. But she was easily the most caring, kind person you'll meet. So when a friend of hers is crying quietly in bed, she most certainly notices and tries to help. She sat down next to me on my bed.

"Are you okay Marian?" Was I? I didn't know how to answer this question so I didn't. "Does this have to do with your date with Albus or the other thing?" I stiffened and my eyes flew open.

"What other thing?"

"The thing you've been hiding from us. It's okay. I don't think Winnie and Charlotte have noticed. And Eve's so caught up in her own life, she hasn't noticed either. So don't worry."

"I'm not hiding anything." Irene sighed.

"Like I said, it's okay. You clearly don't want to talk about it, but you've been acting strange since the end of September. But like I said, I'm the only one who's noticed." She paused for a moment, searching for the right phrasing to come next. "If you ever want to talk…well, I'm here. But if not, that's fine too. You can just tell me it's the other thing and I'll let the subject drop."

"Okay. Then it's the other thing. It's definitely the other thing." She didn't have to know that my "date" with Al was part of the other thing.

"Well, then, did your date go well?" I shrugged. How did I answer that? I knew I had built up a ton of responses to every question that would be asked about my "date" weeks ago, but in that moment, I couldn't remember a single one.

"It was fine." I settled for saying something vague, hoping that Irene would leave it alone and just chalk it up to me not being in a talkative mood.

"So not that good, then?" She asked me with a wry smile. I forced a smile and wiped some of my tears away. "What'd he do wrong? Did he make you pay? Did he pick his nose? Did he spill butterbeer on your favorite blouse?" I shook my head, my smile becoming more natural.

"Nothing. He was a fine date. A real gentleman."

"But…" She trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

"But nothing! It was just fine. I just don't think we…click." She took my hand and squeezed it.

"Well, that's certainly not reason to cry." I sniffled.

"No, it's really not."

"I'm sorry it didn't go better. I'm sorry that you two are not going to work out. I thought you'd make a cute couple."

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" At this, Irene let go of my hand, stood up, and made her way over to her own bed. "Hey Irene?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." She smiled at me.

"Any time." Just then, Winnie and Charlotte burst in, all laughter and shouting and commotion.

"Marian! There you are! You haven't heard yet, I bet, but the Gryffindors are throwing a party the last day before term!" And life slipped back into normal. Whatever that meant.

"Have a good holiday, yeah?" Winnie hugged me tight. I hugged her back just as tight.

"You too." Charlotte threw her arms around the both of us, creating a group hug. Irene stood off to the side, throwing us a small wave before looking for her parents.

"I'm going to miss you guys," Charlotte spoke into my shoulder. Winnie laughed.

"It's just two weeks, Char. We'll see each other before we know it. If you get too lonely, we can always meet up in Diagon Alley after the New Year, yeah?"

"Definitely," I added. Anything to get me out of the house. While I was thankful for the break, going home wasn't something was I looking forward to. Sure, not having to deal with class and worrying about my N.E.W.T.s for two weeks would be welcome, but being home, all alone with my thoughts wasn't something I desired. Home was always so quiet. And I detested it. When we finally disentangled ourselves, Irene was gone and Charlotte's family had appeared. With Charlotte leaving, Winnie gave me one last squeeze.

"See you soon?" I nodded and Winnie headed off to see her parents. Once more, I was alone. I glanced around Platform 9 and ¾. A twinge of jealousy struck me, watching families reunite and students happily go off with their parents. I knew that my dad wouldn't be here because he found the magical world a little overwhelming, but even when we met up it wasn't going to be as emotionally charged as these reunions.

Pushing my trolley out of the Platform and back into Muggle King's Cross, I found a bench to sit down on and wait. My father actually worked at King's Cross, as a train conductor. I had no idea when his next train was coming in. After seven years, we really didn't need to coordinate my return. I knew that my dad couldn't afford to take time off, so, just like when I was eleven, I would sit on a bench near Platform 9 and 10 and wait for him to come collect me at the end of his shift.

I wasn't sitting there long when Albus and the Potter family emerged through the barrier, smiling and laughing. Al caught my eye and waved to me. I gave him a small wave back, but he didn't notice because he had turned towards his family and quickly motioned to me. The next thing I knew, Al was standing in front of me.

"Hey Marian." We hadn't seen each other since the day of the abortion. I hadn't wanted to see him. I was embarrassed by how much I had said while I was sedated, but I was also just too busy trying to appear normal and cheerful with my friends (even though I was anything but) to even think about that. Now that I had the source of my embarrassment staring me in my face, I flushed.

"Hey Al."

"Are you, uh…waiting for your parents?" I nodded.

"My dad should be here soon."

"Good, good." He shuffled awkwardly in front of me, in only a way that awkward Al Potter could. It was endearing.

"Al, I'll be fine."

"So you're, um, feeling better then?" I shrugged but didn't answer his question.

"You shouldn't keep your family waiting." The Potters were still standing where Al had left them, conversing quietly amongst themselves.

"It's fine. You shouldn't be out here alone." I snorted.

"What's going to happen to me at King's Cross? Go on, I'll be fine."

"Well, then," he said, searching for something else to say to keep conversing with me. I didn't understand why. We were done, the two of us. There was nothing between us now, nothing holding us together. We could go our separate ways. "I just wanted to say…"

"Marian," A hand rested on my shoulder and I looked up. My dad was standing beside me, dressed in his uniform, his hair sprinkled with more gray hair than I remembered him having when I left. He looked curiously at Al, "is this boy bothering you?"

"No, Dad. He's not." Al's eyes' widened.

"This is your dad?"

"Yes, I'm Marian's father," my dad confirmed, shooting me a pointed look that said 'Where are your manners?'

"Fine, fine. Introductions. Al, this is my dad, Robert Campbell. And Dad, this is Al, my…well…this is Al." What was Al to me at this point? I don't think there was a word to describe our odd relationship. My father shook hands with Al.

"It's good to meet you. I'm afraid I haven't met any of Marian's friends. I was beginning to wonder if she had any at that strange school you go to." Al looked puzzled by this.

"Marian's actually fairly well liked. She's got lots of friends."

"AL!" The Potter's were calling and I sighed with relief. He would have to go now. Al ran a hand through his hair.

"I guess I need to go."

"Yeah, you should go."

"Um…what I was saying before…"

"Yes?" He sighed, looking back and forth between my dad and me, before shaking his head.

"Nevermind. It's not important. Have a great holiday." I frowned, curious, but didn't press Al to confess. His family was waiting and whatever it was, he probably didn't want to say it in front of my dad, who was staring him down with the protectiveness of a bear.

"You too." He ran back to his family and when he did, he threw his arm around his sister's shoulders and messed up her hair. She gave a little shriek and pushed him away, laughing. Mrs. Potter shot her children a warning look over her should as they walked away, out of the station. My father and I watched them go, identical looks of longing on our faces. When the Potters were finally out of sight, I stood up and embraced my dad. He returned my hug and kissed me on the top of my head.

"C'mon now, love. Let's head on home."

Christmas passed uneventfully. As we always did, my dad and I ordered Chinese, so that I didn't have to cook. My dad was hopeless in the kitchen, so I had been cooking meals for us ever since my mom got sick when I was nine. And when I say hopeless, I mean hopeless. The first time my dad and I were left to our own devices to cook, he burned the chicken he was making so bad that the fire department actually showed up. From then on, cooking was left to me. I took to it quite easily, putting all the determination a nine year old could into learning how to cook. After seven years of it, as you'd expect, I was quite good. I enjoyed cooking. I had a feeling this was why I was so good at Potions. Following a potion recipe really wasn't all that different from one for a meal. When I was gone at school, I'm pretty sure my dad subsisted on take away and whatever casserole old Mrs. Jones down the hall made him when she was feeling sorry for him. He looked thinner and thinner every time I came home and it always made me feel guilty. I felt like it was my fault he was wasting away, because I had chosen the magical world over him. I had chosen to leave him. He was stuck here, day after day, living in the past and I was so far away, moving towards the future.

As far as gifts went, I had gone out a couple days before and bought my father a new bathrobe to replace the one he had been wearing ever since I was born. It was navy and soft and I paid a bit extra to have it monogrammed in gold thread. My dad gave me a pair of pearl earrings. He said that they belonged to my mother.

And that was it. The girls and I didn't bother with gifts.

I passed the days by myself, watching telly in the flat, listening to the radio, working on some N.E.W.T.s prep work for Charms. Whatever I did, however, I did with making as much noise as possible. Silence was always ever present at home and had been so since my mom passed. I remember when I was younger, our flat had been filled with commotion. My mother always had the radio on and would sing along as she did housework. She was always laughing, always smiling, always radiating a joy that permeated the entire apartment.

Now the flat was silent. Oppressively silent. My mother's absence was always so…present in everything. I couldn't escape it. So when I couldn't take it anymore, I would leave, go out into London and wander for hours, before coming home in time to make dinner. The silence was especially noticeable this time of year. My mother passed away on the 29th, just after Christmas when I was ten. So while my father, on the best of days, wasn't the most talkative person, this time of year, he could barely bring himself to converse with me when I asked him how his day was.

Sometimes, my dad managed to take off on the 29th, but it was the holidays and the train station was busy, so this year wasn't one of them. He could only got off Christmas and New Year's Eve. So that meant that it was my responsibility to go down to the cemetery and leave her some flowers. I bought daisies at a flower shop near my house before I headed out, bundled in my coat and hat and gloves to where my mom was buried. Daisies were her favorite. I thought it perfectly indicative of how simple a woman my mother was. She needed love, family, and the occasional bouquet of daisies to keep her going.

It had been a few years since I had visited my mother's grave. It depressed me to see how worn down in looked. I know that my dad didn't visit often—couldn't visit often. Gently, I pushed some snow off the top (it was December after all) and let my hand linger on the gray stone.

Julia Marie Campbell
Loving Wife and Mother
September 19, 1978—December 29, 2016

I traced the letters and numbers of the inscription slowly, analyzing each letter, the way it curved and flowed into the next. When I finished with the six, my hand fell limply to my side.

"Hey Mom." I slowly sat down in front of her grave, ignoring the snow on the ground and the way the cold wetness seeped into my jeans. I leaned the flowers up against the gravestone. "It's been a while. I'm sorry, I guess. I should have stopped by over the summer, but I was so caught up in my own life that I didn't have a spare thought for you. That makes me sound incredibly selfish. But it's true. So I guess I'm selfish. I've come to realize over the past few months that I'm not a good person. No, that's not right. I am a good person. But I'm a good person who does bad things sometimes. And I did something really bad. And I kind of hate myself for it.

"Oh Mom. Why did you have to go? It's not fair Mom. You left me. You left Dad. And I know you didn't want to, but it's just unfair. Because I could have really used my mom lately. I really could have used a mom." I started to cry at this point. "I need a mom to tell me that I did the right thing, that I'm not a bad person, that things will be all right eventually." Hastily, I wiped my tears away, but I didn't stop crying.

"Because the thing is, Mom, I'm not so sure that they will be. I'm having a hard time dealing with life right now. I'm sad and upset all the time. I don't know who to reach out to. I've got friends, good friends, but I can't tell them. I can't bring myself to tell them my secret. And I don't know why. I don't know why I'm so ashamed of it. I didn't do anything wrong. And I think that…I'm not ashamed of my abortion. I'm ashamed of my behavior. Not in general, but just in this case. But I think what I'm trying to say Mom is that I've done the best I can in life without you, because I know that you're gone and there's nothing you can really do for me now. But I really really want my mom right now." The longer I cried, the harder it was to speak. My voice sounded strangled. "And it really hurts that you're not here."

I sat there a while longer, until I calmed down a bit. Then I leaned forward and kissed the headstone, stood up, and left the cemetery. It was getting late. My father would be home at five and I had to make dinner.

A/N: Okay, I'll admit, I'm still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but it'll do. I might go back later and edit it some, but the content won't change. Thanks to everyone for your reviews and alerts and favorites.

Review button is below, should you feel like telling me what you think about this chapter.

Until next time,

NaP