Author's note: I realise I forgot to reference the author of the quotes in the other chapters. Chapter 4 is Viktor Hugo and Chapter 5 is William Shakespeare.
I don't own Harry Potter. I highly doubt I would be writing on Fanfiction if I did. Although I don't know... I do love you lovely strangers on the internet. It makes me happy to think about you reading my stories.
Take your salt with your sugar and your kicks with your kisses ~ Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl
Hours seemed to pass, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes of sobbing before Fred and George found me. I wasn't being particularly subtle about my location, after all...
"Adele? Are you okay?" George asked.
"You idiot!" Exclaimed Fred. "What a stupid question! Did you receive a howler telling you that you were a worthless piece of trash today? Because I'm telling you, someone should have sent one!"
"Now who's an idiot?" Asked George. "You just told her she was a worthless piece of trash!"
As they continued to bicker, my sobbing grew hysterical. I wanted to scream at them both to go away, but I couldn't seem to find my voice. Memories of my aunt- tying pink ribbons on the end of my pigtails, her look of mingled pride and concern as I found my wand in Ollivanders, bandaging up a grazed knee, bringing out a birthday cake... All seemed to flash before my eyes. She was often distant and cold, but when it mattered, she was my Aunt. The loving, doting mother every young girl needs, whether she choses to acknowledge it.
It took me a moment to realise they'd stopped arguing and sat down at either side of me. One of them gently pried my hands away from my face. I bite down on my lip as hard as I can without cutting right through in order to stem the flow of tears.
"Don't worry about it, Adele."
"Yeah, they're all prats. You said so yourself."
It was the wrong thing to say. Glaring at him so hard that he had to recoil, I tried my best to keep my voice even and not get angry. They were, after all, only trying to help.
"Tell me, if Percy wrote to you saying you were a disappointment and that he was going to lock you in a dungeon if you didn't come home from the first place in the world you'd actually felt you belonged, would you just not worry about it? Because it seems to me that, prats though they may be, they are the only people who have ever actually loved me. My aunt at the very least. They are my family, like it or not. And now I am heading towards disownment. So don't tell me to just not worry about it, because it is guaranteed that my temper will not hold for long."
There is a pregnant pause, before we all burst out laughing. I stretch my legs out in front of me, marvelling at how they stretch from one end of this narrow corridor to the other, and sigh, leaning back into Gregory the Smarmy.
"Rather handsome chap, don't you think?" Asks Fred, looking up at the statue.
"Wasn't he the one who invented the potion to make people think you're their best friend?" I asked, looking up at the wrinkled, crafty face.
"Yeah." Said George. "Got boomslang skin in it."
"You seem to know an awful lot about it." I laughed.
"That's because he force fed it to you on the train out here." Fred grinned.
"Only way you'd ever be friends with gits like us." Agreed George, nodding solemnly before cracking up.
"I don't know." I sighed, staring out of the window opposite which looked onto the grounds. "I could use some of that. I reckon if there was anyone around here who needed to do a bit of force feeding, it'd be me."
George wrinkles his nose. "Adele, your fine just the way you are."
"Yeah. You don't need some stupid potion to make people be your best friend."
"Easy for you to say." I laugh. "Even McGonagall is secretly in love with you."
They both snorted simultaneously. "I doubt that very highly." George objected.
I looked up at the statue again, and sighed. How do you make people see you clearly without force feeding them potion? Especially when your parents were world famous murderers and torturous raving lunatics?
And why did it matter what the hell everyone else thought of me?
Without warning, the statue disappears, and we all fly backwards down a flight of stairs, landing in a dank passageway. Someone kicks me in the chin.
"Hey!"
"OW! That's my foot!"
Accepting one of their helpful hand's in climbing to my feet, I put a hand against my throbbing temple. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the castle was trying to kill us."
"Kill us!" George cries, his voice dripping excitement. "Adele, don't you know where we are?"
"Yeah, I do. A dark passageway. So what?"
"So what?" Exclaims Fred. He too sounds as if he is about to burst with excitement. "Adele, we're in a secret passageway!"
"Um, okay?" I asked. Fred and George sounded irritated now. My lack of excitement was getting to them.
"Adele, we've been looking for one of these since we first arrived!"
"Oh, so that's what all the detours were for."
"This could lead anywhere from transfiguration to Hogsmede!" Cries one twin.
"Honeydukes, the sweet shop! And Zonkos and everything!"
"They have the best pranks in the history of the world!"
"I'll bet you're excited now!"
In truth, I was still feeling pretty low, and my head pounded from my fall. I was badly bruised in a variety of place, my elbow being the most dignified and my hip the least. I was feeling too shaken and depressed by both the howler and the injuries to feel particularly excited at that moment in time. But, for the twins sake, I put on my best eager voice, hoping that they were having as much trouble making out my face in the darkness as I was theirs.
"You bet." I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sort of high pitched squeak. Luckily, if they weren't buying it then they weren't saying anything, either...
The tunnel turned out to lead to nothing more interesting than the dungeons, and we scrambled back up, anxious not to be caught by Snape, which certainly wouldn't be an enjoyable experience. On the bright side, I doubted my day could get any worse.
Noticing my stomach growling, Fred and George took me to the kitchen. I had to admit the food and the cheerful house elves did make me feel significantly better, though by the time we reached the common room, my eyes were swimming with tears once more.
George noticed. "Here." He said, handing me a crisp white tissue. Fred pulled me into a hug.
"You are so much more than just a Lestrange, Adele."
"And you're not a disappointment."
"Not to us."
"And you won't ever be."
"We promise."
With that, they both jumped through the portrait hole, their faces beetroot red at the cheesy sentiments they had just expressed. It left me feeling an odd mixture of elation and misery. Giggling to myself, I decided I quite liked this side of Fred and George, though it most definitely should not be seen often. I'd had quite enough cheesy compliments for now.
Feeling more weary than I had done in a long time, I climbed the stairs slowly, and threw myself down on the bed. My hair scattered, skirt billowing out. I closed my eyes, not noticing that I wasn't alone.
"Hi." Says an awkward voice. I open my eyes and sit up, running a hand through my hair, embarrassed at my lack of greeting and at having shown even a little moment of weakness in front of her as I threw myself onto the sheets. I felt both defensive and nervous.
"I just wanted to say- me and Alicia- we misjudged you, and we're sorry. It shouldn't matter who your parents are, and I'm really upset that I let it affect me. So- I guess, I was just sort of hoping that you could forgive me?"
Mingled surprise, embarrassment and satisfaction greeted her words. As each emotion fought for dominance, I smiled.
"Sure. No harm done."
"Um- do you play chess?"
I nodded. Fred and George had been teaching me over the past week, and I was surprised in the extremes every time I won. Though perhaps not as surprised as them. They sulked every time they were defeated, challenging me to rematches almost constantly, much to the dismay of their battered chess pieces.
Angelina smiles uncertainly, and I smile wholeheartedly back.