Chapter Seven:
Well-Spoken Words
~*~*~*~
Quick, sure steps carried Jim across Hogwarts' grounds. He had followed this particular path many times before. Although the stars and the crescent moon hardly gave enough light to see what lay before him, he never hesitated or misstepped; he could have walked it blindfolded -- and besides, there was light enough once he reached his destination.
The monument occupied a small plot of land near Hogsmere Lake. It had been erected when Jim was a little boy; he remembered attending the dedication, standing uneasily beside Lily and trying to understand why all the grown-ups were crying. He knew now. No matter what his sister claimed, he knew his history. He knew why his family was so revered. Just then he hated the hero-worship. Maybe his parents deserved some share of it, but surely most of it belonged to the dead.
The memorial was a shimmering silver pool surrounded by gravel paths and small, gleaming plaques set in stone. Each plaque -- one hundred and thirty-three in all, one for every student who had lost their life at the hands of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters -- was marked with a single gem, a solitary name, and two numbers. The gems, topaz, sapphire, ruby or emerald, commemorated the victims' houses. The two gleaming numbers denoted the students' class year at the time of their death and the number of losses each one's particular family had suffered. The pool in the middle was a giant Pensieve, formed of memories donated by those who had known and loved the deceased.
As always, Jim wove his way through the plaques until he came to one bearing a topaz. The name Cedric Diggory, and the numbers 7 and 1, shone golden against the polished black marble. He called a memory of his little brother to mind and brushed the name with his fingertips. He liked to believe that somehow the shade of Cedric Diggory saw these fragments of his new namesake's life, and thus knew that he hadn't been forgotten. He wasn't sure why he did this or even if he had a right to. He knew that Amos and Elizabeth Diggory found it too painful to visit and that they had tactfully asked the Chang-Potters to leave their memories buried, but it seemed to Jim that it was better to remember and mourn than to push the dead away -- so he tried to make up for the Diggorys' absence in some small way. He didn't know why he disobeyed the dead boy's parents, but at least it made him feel better every time some fawning, ignorant wizard or witch treated his family like royalty while the real victims were forgotten.
Maybe because I'd want somebody to do the same thing for me.
Soft footsteps came from his left. He didn't have to look up to know who was approaching him. It was the same person he had seen leave the Great Hall minutes before. He had known she would come here eventually. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No. Of course not." Paula Diggory absently brushed brown hair over her shoulder, her gray eyes as unreadable as Rory's ever were. The two girls could hardly be called friends or even acquaintances, but Jim had long ago realized that they shared more than they knew. Both of them had lost family to the Dark Lord and both were forbidden to speak of the dead, albeit for different reasons. Perhaps fearing that the same fate would befall their curious daughter as befell their son, Paula's parents wouldn't allow her to learn anything about her brother or even to ask about him. No matter how many times Jim's parents had asked -- no matter how many times Paula herself had tried to uncover another piece of her family's past -- the answer had always been the same. All Paula had were school records and archived articles from the Daily Prophet.
"I was showing him my brother on his new broom," Jim said quietly, not wanting to disturb the strange stillness that always surrounded the memorial. "Cedric wants to be a Seeker, you know."
"Mother and Father won't be happy." Paula's voice was soft and bitter. Sometimes Jim wondered why she had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. The hat supposedly never made a mistake -- except maybe with Lily on her darker days -- but there was a hardness in the Head Girl that had never seemed to fit the rest of her house. It was as if a little part of her had turned to stone many years ago.
"I don't think your parents matter much to Cedric." He didn't mean to be blunt, but he knew that he was just telling the truth. While his little brother wasn't as tactless as Lily and would never hurt anyone intentionally, he rarely let others' dictates get in the way of his goals. Jim could only assume the he had inherited that from their mother, who could be extremely stubborn when she chose to be.
The Head Girl didn't answer. Instead she walked over to the plaque. Like Jim, she brushed it with her fingertips. There was a long silence before she spoke again. "I hoped he would be Sorted into Hufflepuff. No one belongs in Gryffindor more than your brother, and there I was hoping that..." She trailed off and just looked down at the plaque, lost in her own thoughts.
"I know he was thinking the same thing," Jim said. He grimaced inwardly. Tact, Jim. Tact. Try it sometime. He regrouped his thoughts and tried again. "What I mean is, I'm sure he thought he was disappointing you."
Paula threw him a skeptical look. "Jim, he's only eleven. Don't overestimate him."
"I'm not." Jim shrugged helplessly. "You know how he is."
"No, I don't. I haven't grown up with him, remember? I don't have a brother."
This wasn't going exactly as he had planned. "Paula -- "
"Jim?" Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she had been shouting. "Do me a favor and shut up for a minute."
Jim snapped his mouth shut, silently berating himself. Idiot! Maybe you could open your mouth a little wider next time. Your entire foot quite fit in it. Next you'll be taking the Tactless Wonder title from Maureen, who's probably all warm and cozy in the Common Room instead of making a complete prat out of herself. He thought about going inside, but that would mean leaving Paula out here. She always came out here and he always followed, silent as a shadow. Usually he just kept quiet. In hindsight that had would have been a better idea. Just then the Head Girl probably wanted him to go jump in the lake and bother the giant squid.
He had to try one more time. "Paula."
She pushed herself away from the memorial and looked at Jim. Her eyes were unreadable, but there were wet trails down her cheeks. "I thought I was ready," she said tonelessly. "I knew your brother was in that line and I told myself that I wasn't going to care." She shook her head. "So much for the brave and stoic Head Girl, huh?"
Jim tried to find words, but of course there were none. He remembered when Grandfather Shing and Grandmother Jun had been murdered because their youngest daughter happened to be a famous Auror, not to mention Harry Potter's wife. He was just three. People he didn't know had tried to comfort him, but their words had made no sense, because no words could undo the Killing Curse. He had hated the meaningless sympathy then, just as he knew Paula would hate it now.
So he said the only thing he could think of that didn't sound trite. "Are you sure you don't want me to leave?"
Paula nodded emphatically. "Yes. I'm sure. Absolutely. Please stay." She tilted her head to look up at his face, displaying a sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He belongs in Gryffindor," she said softly. "Don't make him live up to a namesake."
Jim managed an uneasy grin. "He's a Chang and a Potter. He's used to it."
For some reason that just made her even sadder. But all she said was, "Are you ready to go back inside?"
Jim threw one last look at the Pool of Remembrance. "Sure. If you are."
Paula nodded. Shoulders squared, her Head Girl badge gleaming in the silver light of the pool, she started back toward Hogwarts.
~*~*~*~
The Gryffindor Common Room was the place to go for the best post-Sorting party, which was why Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a few Slytherins had crammed in to join the fun. Annika Weasley and Tim Jordan were happily showering the more uptight prefects with Treacle Bombs, the three Hufflepuff Chasers were showing off their new brooms by flying dangerously close to everyone's heads, there were mugs of warm butterbeer being conjured up from somewhere, and the Unit had been practicing their Medusa Charm on some of their fellow first-years -- apparently with great success if the amount of hissing was anything to judge by. Lily Chang-Potter kept stuffing her fingers in her ears and complaining that the new headsnakes were just spouting nonsense. It was wholly enjoyable chaos, and if some people grumbled about it, they could rest assured that Professor Lupin always broke it up if things got out of hand.
"At this rate we're going to have the shortest Sorting party ever," Rory said as she Summoned the Unit's wands away from them. The world could only be subjected to so many polka-dotted headsnakes. Ignoring the outraged squawks coming from somewhere in the crowd, she stuffed her new acquisitions in her pocket and looked back at her fellow prefects. "When do we want to end this?"
"Soon," Ravenclaw Katerina Tsvel muttered as she sidestepped a Treacle Bomb. It splattered against Liana Rhydderch's robes.
Claude Avery glared at the Treacle Bomb tossers. Tim and Annika gave him crisp salutes and turned their attention to a besieged Jason Anderson. Satisfied that their attention had been diverted, Claude looked back at the other prefects. "You know what? I hate being a sixth-year."
This pronouncement was met with much murmured agreement. Traditionally it was the sixth-year prefects who kept Common Room parties from getting too out of hand, which of course meant that they were not only the targets of all sorts of magical mischief, but also the ones who had to stand around and watch everyone else have fun.
"It's just for a little while longer." Arun Gupta ducked as Diane Montgomery and Hasan Sharif went flying overhead. He crossed his arms and sighed. "I hope."
"It can't be too much longer. You know what Professor Lupin and my mum said about parties going past midnight." Brian held up his watch. "See? Almost there."
"I don't know if I can last ten more minutes," Liana said. She deflected another Treacle Bomb and sent if flying toward the crowd. It landed on Jason, who just frowned at her and resumed pulling the Unit off the furniture.
Claude gave Liana a sidelong look. "You should work on your aim."
"You're right," Liana said serenely. "I should." There was a twinkle in her eye that suggested her aim had in fact been flawless. If Claude's sly grin was any indication, he thought much the same thing.
When Rory had become a prefect last year, she had discovered an interesting phenomenon. The interhouse rivalry wasn't quite as pronounced or quite as vicious for the prefects as it was for the rest of Hogwarts. It was almost as if there was some unspoken agreement that no matter what happened, there always needed to be a group of people who could work together and take care of things. This hadn't always been the case. Jim's parents had both been prefects, and from the stories Jim had passed on to the Musketeers, Rory could guess that things had been very tense between the prefects two decades ago. She suspected that the informal cooperation, like so many other things her generation took for granted, had its origins in the Dark Lord's return.
Maybe that was why Claude and his fellow Slytherin, Olivia Stonebrook, didn't seem quite as bad as their housemates. They certainly didn't hate her, and if they thought she was somehow a traitor to her family name, they had never said so. It was refreshing.
"Seven minutes." Michael Banting said. He was splattered with treacle -- probably because he had been too busy staring at his watch to dodge the assorted projectiles Annika and Tim had lobbed at him. "Seven minutes. I can do this."
"I can't," Olivia announced. "Rory, Brian, either you two bring your house under control or I'm going to do something drastic."
"Your house is making noise too," Brian muttered, but he raised his wand over his head. "On the count of three?"
Rory nodded and readied her own wand. "One. Two. Three. Elucipassim!"
Showers of red sparks flew out of their wands, throwing wild shadows around the Common Room. At the same time, an ear-splitting squeal quickly silenced all conversation. The party-goers covered their ears and glared at the prefects, who had all had the presence of mind to conjure up fluffy pink earmuffs. When Rory was satisfied that she had everyone's attention, she nodded to Brian and the two of them dropped their wands. The noise and the sparks vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
"There," Rory said to the other prefects as they removed their earmuffs. "You get to herd them out now. I need to talk to my house."
Claude grinned. "Just your house? Are you plotting against us innocent Slytherins?"
"Don't flatter yourself." She pushed Claude after Olivia, although she had to admit that there wasn't much for him to do. There weren't many Slytherins at the party, and those few were the nicer sort who didn't need much encouragement to march back to their rooms. Claude seemed to realize this as well, because he turned his attention to prodding awake some of the older students. Apparently Harriet Black and her partner-in-crime Leah Harris had broken out their specially enhanced butterbeer. From the number of bleary-eyed seventh-years stumbling about, they had been more than happy to share.
When the last stubborn batch of Hufflepuffs had been shooed out and the more intoxicated seventh-years had been sent up to bed -- belting out some dreadful song about a hedgehog, no less -- Rory finally risked a glance around the Common Room. There wasn't a bare surface anywhere. Everything was covered with candy wrappers, butterbeer bottles, half-empty goblets of pumpkin juice, and any number of fake wands. Most of the Gryffindors had found comfortable spots on the chairs and were lounging around, watching Rory expectantly. The fifth-year prefects were trying to confiscate a bag of Ton-Tongue Toffees from the Unit, with little success.
Rory stood up on a sticky armchair so everyone could see her. Usually the seventh-year prefects were the ones who gave beginning-of-term speeches, but since Jason Anderson wasn't exactly on good terms with the rest of his house and Cara Liveright was sleeping off the effects of one too many butterbeers, the task had fallen to her. Brian just gave her a sympathetic look. He didn't seem to realize that while there were several things that bothered Rory, public speaking wasn't one of them.
She didn't even bother to raise her voice. Considering how loud things had been just a few minutes ago, the Common Room was remarkably quiet. Maureen was sitting on top of the chess table and making rude faces, but Rory could ignore her easily. She couldn't spot Jim in the crowd. Maybe he and Paula had actually tried to talk things out this year. It would be a step in the right direction, at least.
Those were things to worry about later, thanks. For now she had a speech to make. "All right, everyone. Pay attention!" When the murmurs had stopped, she rested her hands on the back of the chair and faced the crowd. Even standing up on the furniture, she still wasn't a particularly towering figure. "First of all, whoever emptied butterbeer all over my favorite chair should watch their back. I'll make you wish your father never kissed your mother." There was a bit of chuckling from the first-years, but no one else said anything. Rory knew that the underclassmen had a healthy fear of her. She had worked hard to cultivate it, after all.
She crossed her arms and glared right at Tim and Annika. "Second, no more Treacle Bombs. We're not five years old."
"You should talk!" someone shouted. Rory didn't have to look to know it was Maureen.
"What about Dungbombs?" one of the Unit asked. Georgia, Rory guessed. Wasn't she supposed to be the louder one? Or maybe that was Winifred.
"No Dungbombs. And nothing else on the Headmistress' list. If you have it, I don't want to know about it. Understood?And that doesn't just go for me, either. See them?" She pointed to Brian and to Sarah Fletcher and Yves Saint-Croix, the fifth-year prefects. "They have those badges for a reason. Be discreet. Understand?"
Everyone nodded.
"Good." Now for the fun part. Rory had to smile as she spoke. "One last thing. Brian has told me that his mother's twentieth anniversary is coming up -- "
She was interrupted by cheering. The assorted Weasleys and the Chang-Potters were the loudest, naturally.
"I'm not finished." When the Unit was finally shushed, Rory silently looked over at Brian, raising an eyebrow askance. He grinned and nodded. "We were thinking that we could put together some sort of surprise party for her. Unless someone has a problem with that?"
No one objected, of course. Professor Weasley was strict, but she was also more than willing to defend both her house and Professor Lupin, her fellow Gryffindor, when the need arose. Besides, what self-respecting Hogwarts student would refuse a good party?
Rory smiled. "Then the prefects will be organizing something soon. If you would like to help, just talk to one of us or to the nearest Weasley. We'll be asking for donations, so don't spend every Sickle on your next trip to Hogsmeade. I think Mr. Jordan will understand if we don't empty the shelves at Wizard Wheezes this year." There was general laughter at this. Tim's father Lee was the current manager of and spokeswizard for the popular joke store. For a moment Rory's eyes fell on the Unit and her smile faltered. Brian's uncles had founded Wizard Wheezes before they had even graduated from Hogwarts. It was still owned by the Weasleys, as far as she knew.
She pushed the melancholy thoughts away. "Does anyone else have anything they want to add?"
"Quidditch tryouts!" Robert Anderson called. "Help us fly rings around Ravenclaw!" Maureen, Leah, and the rest of the team cheered. Rory saw Cedric Chang-Potter and Heather Wood begin to talk excitedly.
"What positions?" Rachel Mattel asked loudly.
Robert opened his mouth -- no doubt to ramble on about his stringent requirements for each position -- but Rory spoke first. The last thing she needed was the fifth-year talking everyone's ears off. "We'll post open positions later. Won't we?"
"Sure we will," Maureen said as she clapped a hand over Robert's mouth. "Carry on, your ladyship."
Rory fought the urge to stick out her tongue. "Anything else?" When no one spoke up, she nodded and climbed down from the chair. "Good. Now get up to your dorms before I hex you!"
"Is the queen finished holding court?"
Rory spun around, half-expecting to find a group of Slytherins sneering at her. But it was only Claude. The prefect was leaning against the wall and displaying a lopsided smile. She relaxed slightly. "I wasn't holding court."
"You could have fooled me. Rory Malfoy, leader of the Gryffindors, urging her minions into battle." His grin widened, taking the sting out of his words.
"Shouldn't you be twirling a mustache or something?" Rory retorted, but she couldn't help but smile. "So is there a reason why you're still here?"
"I wanted to talk to you, actually."
Rory blinked. "Oh? About what?"
Claude hesitated. "I mean I want to talk to you elsewhere." He gestured to the Common Room, which was only gradually emptying.
"We could go out into the hallway," Rory suggested. Maureen had spotted her talking to Claude and was starting to make exaggerated kissing motions. Not too far away, Brian was standing with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly disgusted with her. Weasleys in general tended to take a dim view of Slytherins. Brian probably thought Rory was consorting with the enemy or something stupid like that.
"That sounds fine." Claude gave the other two Musketeers a jaunty salute and then hurried out of the Common Room before Brian could send a nasty hex after him. Rory followed at a more leisurely pace. Whatever it was Claude wanted, she wasn't about to be dragged out of Gryffindor Tower because of it.
The hallway was considerably colder than the Common Room. Rory crossed her arms and did her best not to shiver. "All right?" she demanded a little irritably. "Why exactly are we out here? I'm going to die of hypothermia."
"Flint and Kingsley want to ruin that party of yours," Claude said without preamble.
Rory blinked. As far as she knew the plans had only been known by a few select people -- namely the Musketeers and a few other high-placed Weasleys. "Who blabbed?"
"Who do you think? Darius and Albus were talking all about it at the Hufflepuff table and Kingsley overheard when she was coming in. Apparently a Weasley did something to her hair."
"Two Weasleys," Rory corrected. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. It would have been Darius who gave the plans away. "I'll have the prefects on guard duty. Now shoo."
Claude's grin faded slightly. "What, not even a 'thank you'?"
"Fine. Thank you." She made sure there was geniune sincerity in her voice, because she really meant what she said. "And good luck with Flint and company."
"No problem."
There was a long silence. Claude didn't actually start in the direction of Slytherin's Common Room. Rather he just shifted from foot to foot. "Um. Yes. Right."
"Was there something else?" Rory prompted. "Is Kingsley plotting an attempt on my life?"
"It's not that."
Rory quirked an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."
Claude blew out a long sigh. "Rory..."
"Yes?"
"I..."
"Is everything okay?"
Jim came striding down the hall, looking from Rory to Claude and back again, frowning slightly as he obviously tried to puzzle out what was going on. He didn't look very happy at all.
Rory sighed. For some reason Jim's interruption bothered her to no end. She turned back to Claude with a rueful smile. "So. I'll...I'll see you in Transfiguration."
"Or you could come visit me in my Common Room," Claude suggested.
Now Jim really didn't look happy. Rory saw him opening his mouth, no doubt to make some angry protest about Gryffindor solidarity, so she spoke up quickly. "I don't think I want to sit around in a dungeon."
Claude made a face. "It's not a dungeon."
"It's underground and it's dimly lit. What else would you call it?"
Jim muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "cesspit."
"We're not all bad, you know." Claude smiled easily, apparently oblivous to Jim. "Your father was a Slytherin, wasn't he? He didn't seem half-bad for all that he supported Dumbledore."
Every charitable thought Rory might have been having about her fellow prefect vanished. "Get out." Her voice could have cut steel.
Claude frowned at her. "What?"
"My father died fighting for Dumbledore." She could have used other words. Butchered. Torn apart. Tortured until surely the Killing Curse seemed a small mercy. Maybe worse. Yet she certainly wasn't going to let Claude Avery know those things -- and she would never tell Jim. One didn't need to know, and the other didn't need the burden. But other words spilled from her and try as she might, she couldn't contain them. "I'm a Gryffindor, in case you forgot. Get back to your dungeon before I hex you!"
"I didn't mean it like that!"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Then how did you mean it?"
Claude's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "I..."
"Claude. Just...get out."
Without waiting to see if Claude obeyed, she turned and fled up to her dorm. Ife and Laura tried to speak to her, but she sneered at them like her grandfather sneered at the mere mention of her friends. She flopped on her bed and curled her hands into claws as if she wanted to shred her pillows with her bare hands. Stupid, bloody, double-cursed Slytherin!
Emily Pankowitz took one look at her face and quickly fled. Just as well. Talking was the last thing she felt like doing.
~*~*~*~
Claude took a step forward, as if he planned to follow Rory back into the sanctuary of Gryffindor Tower. That was just too much. Jim grabbed the other boy's arm and hauled him backwords. He wasn't as strong as Claude, but given his height, he didn't need to be. "Leave her alone."
"Why? So you can go comfort her? I thought you high-and-mighty Potters were above that."
Jim wished he had Lily's quick tongue just then. He just knew she would have come up with some crushing retort. Then again, Lily wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place. "I'm really hoping I misunderstood that."
"You understood it just fine," Claude bit out. He twisted his arm free of Jim's grip, but made no move toward the Fat Lady's portrait. Instead he just stood there, as if waiting for a cunning retort.
Nothing was forthcoming. Jim just fought the urge to ball his hands into fists. "She's my best friend."
Claude shrugged. "Whatever you say." Abruptly his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You think that Slytherin is the same as Death Eater. Not all of us followed the Dark Lord, and you know, we don't all practice the Dark Arts. Some of us aren't proud of what our parents did. Even if some of you don't seem to realize that." He glanced back at Gryffindor Tower. It was perfectly clear to whom he was referring. When he turned back to Jim, he actually looked hurt. "Just keep that in mind."
He turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor, leaving Jim to lean against the cool stone wall and wonder why everyone had gone stark raving mad.
~*~*~*~
"Rory? Oy, Rory! Who insulted your honor this time?"
Rory rolled over and glared. "I don't need a smartass, Reen. Go away."
Maureen heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Look," she said bluntly, "I know something's wrong. So does Brian. So does everyone you kicked out of here." She waved her hand to indicate the empty dorm. "Either Laura can keep hiding with the second-years or you can tell me what's going on."
Rory propped herself up on her elbows and tried to out-stare Maureen. There weren't many people who could meet her eyes when she was really determined to be left alone.
Her friend crossed her arms. "You're being a bitch." Then, because she was who she was, she cocked her head to one side and smiled slyly. "Well, more of a bitch than usual."
"What part of 'I don't need a smartass' did you not understand?"
Abruptly Maureen was very serious. "Either tell me what's wrong or I'll march out there and ask Jim. I think we both know how long that boy can keep a secret from me."
Longer than you think. For a moment Rory considered debating the point further, but then she gave up. The last week had worn her down until she just wanted to talk. Maybe Maureen would try to beat the truth out of her grandparents, but then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. There wasn't much point in being secretive if by being so she was terrorizing her entire dorm.
"Claude is a bastard."
"And? He may be the best Slytherin in the lot, but that's not saying much." Maureen leaned closer. "Now spill."
It was no use. Rory knew when she was going to be badgered all night. "My grandparents lied about my mother," she said tonelessly.
Maureen gaped at her. "You're joking."
"No. I'm not." She explained everything -- how she had caught her grandparents in a lie, how they had refused to explain anything, how she had finally wormed a tantalizing shred of information out of Dobby, and how everything she knew about her own identity was suddenly in doubt. Through it all Maureen just stood there, her eyes getting wider and wider with each word until they were as big as saucers.
"Wow," she said when Rory finished. "Oh, wow. I can't believe they would..." She sat down hard on her bed, situated right next to Rory's, and fumbled for words. Rory had never seen her brash friend speechless before. "You don't even know if your mum's alive or dead?"
Rory looked down at her hands. "I hope she's alive. I always thought I would meet her someday. But if she's dead, that means she didn't abandon me." She squeezed her eyes shut, because she was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't cry. Not ever.
Maureen worried her lower lip. "Couldn't you ask someone? Maybe Jim's dad would -- "
"Jim's dad hates me. I'm a Malfoy, remember?"
"You're Jim's friend, genius. They're not going to hate you." Maureen rested her chin on her hands and gave Rory a long, considering look. "I'll bet my dad knows a couple of big Beaters who wouldn't mind teaching your poncy git of a granddad some manners."
Rory had to smile at that, if only for a moment. "It wouldn't work. My grandfather was Minister for a while. He still has some friends in high places."
"Ah." Maureen quirked an eyebrow. "That would be why you haven't told Brian."
"He would go ask his grandfather and Percy eventually, and then my grandfather would have one more thing to use against them." Rory ran her fingers through her hair. "That, and he would just tear apart the entire library."
"There's four Musketeers, not three. You can't keep him in the dark forever." When Rory didn't counter that argument, Maureen sighed and tossed her pillow at her. "Cheer up. It's not your fault that your granddad's being a bastard."
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the understatement of the year." Rory stared up at her bed's scarlet curtains. "Sometimes I just want to hit him."
Maureen grinned. "Sometimes?"
"Fine. All the time."
"That can be arranged."
Rory glanced at her friend. Maureen was still smiling, but there was a nasty set to her jaw. She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Now Maureen was going to get all worked up over something that wasn't really her problem and there would just be a big mess to untangle. If there was one thing Rory wasn't in the mood for, it was trying to fix yet another problem.
She didn't say all that, of course. "You would go in the same room as my grandparents? Willingly?"
Maureen shrugged. "There would be a lot of hexing involved."
"Just have a camera handy. That's a memory I want to last forever." She smiled at the mental image. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, the Amazing Jelly-Legged Skrewts.
"You've got that look again."
Rory frowned. "What look?"
"The 'Now-There's-A-Mental-Picture' look."
"I do not."
Maureen shrugged. "Whatever you say. All I know is that's the kind of look that only goes with two mental pictures."
Rory rolled her eyes. "And those would be?"
"Revenge and Hunter Thomas topless."
There was a strangely contemplative silence as both girls stared off into space.
"Wow," Rory said finally.
Maureen nodded. "Wow works." She considered for a moment. "So does yummy."
"You realize that this is an entirely inappropriate conversation and that Sorcha would wipe the floor with us if she ever heard about it?"
Another nod.
"And you brought this up on purpose to distract me, didn't you?"
"Damn right."
Rory smiled faintly. "Reen?"
"Huh?"
"Thanks."
~*~*~*~
Further Disclaimers: Any and all hedgehog songs are references to Terry Pratchett and his wonderful Discworld. For the curious, lyrics can be found here. Not for the easily offended.
Coming up Next: the start of the school year, homework by the pound, Snape, much ado about Transfiguration, Weasleys galore, and an unfortunate incident in Potions. Probably.
So you've just read the chapter, huh? Now what are you going to do? How about reviewing? Just click on the link below and tell me what you think. Good, bad, indifferent -- I want to know. :)
