A/N: Special congrats to ballerinadoll9 for being my 150th reviewer! Just a quick note today, and then I'll let you get on with the chapter. Jake's been kind of skipping around, calling his grandmother 'Grandma' and then 'my grandmother/grandma', and a couple of other combinations, but from here on out, Jake will be calling her 'Gran'. It fits her. I've already gone back and edited previous chapters for it. Happy reading!

Chapter Twenty-One: Taboo Topics

Danni

Monday morning hits me like a tidal wave. School starts today. I drag myself out of bed extremely unwillingly and set about getting dressed. That's the only thing I like at all about our school uniforms – it really makes picking out what to wear simple, even if it's not the most flattering outfit. I scrape my hair back into a ponytail, not bothering to deal with makeup or some fancy hairstyle. It's Monday, it's early, and I'm tired. Three things that definitely don't make me enthusiastic about the image in the mirror.

With a yawn I creep out as silently as I can into the kitchen and pour myself some cereal. I sit at our tiny and crappy kitchen table, scarfing down cereal as fast as I can despite the fact that I know I'll probably wind up puking it back up as soon as I get to school – dam morning sickness and all. I try not to let that thought go any further, because I'll just end up anxious and scared again.

The thought of becoming a mum terrifies me, but what terrifies me even more is what Craig and my mum will say when they find out. Okay, if I'm being honest with myself, I don't even care what Mum has to say – she's so out of it most of the time I'm surprised she even knows I exist. But I can't predict what Craig will say or do – I never can.

So you can totally understand why I haven't told them yet – Mum thinks I've had some sort of flu the last couple weeks or so, and Craig doesn't care, so long as I leave him alone. I think Mum was relieved when I finally got out of the house to see Jake over the weekend. I think she was worried about what Craig would have to say if I stayed home any longer than I already had. Me, I could care less about what he has to say – it's what he might do that I'm worried about.

Finished with my cereal – and already feeling slightly queasy – I grab my bag, check my rather plain-looking appearance one more time, and hurry out the door. I can hear Mum just getting up for work in her room, and Craig won't be up till noon I'm sure – the earliest I've seen him get up in the last three years was ten o'clock, and that's a rarity.

I sigh as I head down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. I hate the bus. I hate how noisy and crowded it is, and I hate how everyone shouts over everyone else until you can barely hear yourself think, let alone talk to the person sitting next to you – not that anyone ever sits next to me anyway, since I don't have many friends, and the ones I do have don't ride the bus because they're parents allowed them to get their driver's license.

As I walk past Mrs. Parks' house, I glance up just in time to see Jake's face disappearing from an upstairs window. I pause, waiting, wondering, hoping he'll come back so I can at least see his smile to get me through the day. I stand there for almost an entire minute, biting my lip, waiting. I'm just about to give up and keep going when the front door flies open and he stands there, his jeans hanging off his hips haphazardly, not wearing a shirt, his hair sticking up every which way – basically looking extremely hot. He rushes down the front walk barefoot and pulls me into a hug, practically lifting me off my feet. I smile at his enthusiasm, so pleased that the suddenness of close contact doesn't even bother me.

"I thought I was going to miss you," he murmurs in my ear, breathing only slightly harder than usual. I grin up at him and plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiles back with a slight smirk, knowing that since Saturday, I've been very careful with when and where I kiss him. Not that I mind having him completely lose control of himself every now and then – and it's nice to know what causes it now – but I figure the front walk isn't exactly appropriate.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't then," I reply with another smile. "Miss me, I mean." He grins back down at me, and when we lock eyes, his smile falters, becoming much more serious, and there's suddenly fire in his eyes. I know I should stop it before it happens – for one thing, I need to get to the bus stop, and for another, he's standing half naked out in the front yard for all the world to see – but I don't. He leans down and kisses me, and I reach one hand up and curl it around his head and hold him there for a few seconds. He groans after another moment and pulls away sharply.

"We can't do this," he says softly, almost apologetically. I smile gently.

"I know," I answer rather wistfully, not quite able to hide how I feel. But he just shakes his head, amusement evident in his expression.

"Shouldn't you be getting to school now?" he asks mock-sternly. I grin and hug him quickly.

"I guess so. I'll see you later." I lean up, kiss his cheek again. "Love you," I add quietly. I turn and walk away before he can say anything in return. I don't look back the whole way to the bus stop. I can't. If I do, I might just end up skipping school altogether to spend the entire day wrapped in Jake's arms, and I have a feeling that Mum – not to mention Mrs. Parks and Jake himself – might not approve.

The bus stop is already pretty crowded – mostly with younger kids. I spot one guy who might be in the year ahead of me, but he's one of those weird guys who never talks to anyone and just gives off the vibe of utter moroseness. There's another guy who may or may not be in my year sitting with his back against a tree, his nose stuck in some tattered paperback novel. I stand there and watch him for a minute or so, and eventually he must sense my gaze, because he raises his head – his eyes still glued to the page – very slowly, and then ever so carefully puts a finger to the page in his book and raises his eyes to mine.

I just look at him. He eyes me for a moment, gives me a slightly confused and weirded-out look, and returns to his novel. I shrug to myself and give the younger kids a once-over. They're all grouped together at the edge of the sidewalk, tittering excitedly about the first day of school. I wish I could be like them – younger, innocent, carefree… Maybe not carefree, but not as weighted down by things like family – both current and future in my case. I sigh softly, half of me – okay, most of me – wanting to just forget this whole school thing entirely and go back to Jake and Mrs. Parks and just stay there all day with the two people I love most in the world.

But the bus pulls up right then, and rather grudgingly, I follow the younger kids on, taking a seat mid-way down the aisle and putting my bag up on the seat beside me so no one will sit with me. The creepy, depressed-looking guy sits down two seats behind me, and the paperback novel guy sits down in the seat across the aisle, not even gracing me with a glance as he buries his nose in his book again. I stare out the window as the bus rumbles away from the curb, taking me toward the supposed learning institution that is my school.

x.x

Jake

I sigh as I dump the tray of dirty dishes into the huge sink in the back of the kitchen of the coffee shop Gran and Danni got me a job at. I didn't want to work today, but I had nothing better to do with Danni at school. So here I am, dumping a heap of disgusting, sticky, slimy dishes into a tub of hot soapy water. The water splashes up and drenches my entire left arm as I do so, and I groan. I grumble darkly under my breath for a minute or two about how cold that will get as it dries before remembering, duh, I'm a wizard, I'm in a wizard coffee shop – I can use my wand!

So I do exactly that. I take out my wand – which has been rather neglected the last few months that I've been staying with Gran – and dry my arm off. Feeling marginally more cheerful now, I head back out into the front of the shop.

I glance at the clock and stifle another groan. It's only two o'clock, and I don't get off until three thirty. The shop is nearly empty at this time. Everyone's lunch breaks are over, so there are only three people in right now, and even that is a lot, considering.

In the far corner is Bert, an ancient wizard with a beard that reaches nearly to his ankles who wears neon-colored robes all the time. Today is a nearly blinding yellow with blue stripes. I look away from the painful sight.

Over by the window is Lauta, a crazy old witch with silver hair – and when I say that, I mean it literally. Her hair isn't silver-gray. It's silver. It sparkles. She has these huge glasses that magnify her eyes by ten and make her look like an oversized bug or something. She never orders anything but green tea. I don't think I've ever seen her eat, and she sits in that window booth all day.

Lastly, at a table right near the counter is a tiny witch who couldn't be much older than thirty. She has midnight black hair that sticks up in strange tufts all over her head, but in a way that looks as though she's showcasing some new style that hasn't quite made it to the general public yet.

She doesn't dress like a witch though. She wears skin-tight black jeans and flowing white tops, and she has this superior air about her. I've only seen her in a couple times, and if it weren't for the fact that I saw her transfigure the salt shakers into mice while waiting for her order one day, I wouldn't peg her as magical at all. She looks like some Muggle model or something.

I try to watch her discreetly now as she sits at her table, sipping coffee and reading Witch Weekly with a bored expression. Nearly five minutes pass before her eyes flicker up and catch mine. I look away quickly, embarrassed for staring. When I glance back she's still watching me. A small smile curls up the corners of her mouth and she beckons for me to come forward. I do so rather reluctantly.

"Can I help you?" I ask softly when I reach her side. She just looks up at me.

"You were staring at me," she says slowly, and I feel the back of my neck heat up.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, and she smiles in amusement.

"What's your name, kid?" she asks, and I swallow nervously. Who is this lady?

"Jake," I murmur, unable to tear my gaze from her unnatural-looking green eyes.

"Jake, huh? What's a good-looking kid like you – fresh out of Hogwarts I'll bet – doing working at a place like this? You should be out starting your career. Or are you home-schooled? One more year left and you want to earn some extra Galleons, is that it? No?" she asks when I shake my head at her last question. "Well, then what are you doing here, Jakey boy?"

I shrug uncomfortably. "I don't know what else to do," I tell her honestly. "And I need the money." Which is true. Because from what I remember about having Abby and Henry around as babies, they're not cheap.

"Mmm, parents kick you out?" she guesses, and I shake my head no. She just stares at me some more, and I have to wonder what on earth she's so interested in. "What then? Sick of over-lording parents pushing you around and decided to strike out on your own? Let me share a secret with you, kid: You won't keep rent working here."

I simply roll my eyes that, and she smiles ever so slightly more. Her sly smile makes me uncomfortable and slightly defensive. "What do you care why I'm working here? I'm serving you aren't I?" I ask rather snappishly, hoping Roberta won't hear – she'd skin me alive for being rude to a customer.

"Just curious as to what would possess a promising young man such as yourself to work in a coffee shop is all," she says serenely.

"Well it's really none of your business," I tell her indignantly, and she just smiles some more. I find myself getting furious at her, and I don't understand it at all.

She seems amused by my frustration. "Oh, of course not. I was just curious," she says with an innocent little smile. I glare at her.

"Well next time, I suggest you keep your observations to yourself," I snap. She simply smirks in a rather satisfied way and takes a sip of her coffee. Her expression sours – it must have gone cold – and I find vindictive pleasure in that.

"My coffee is cold," she says expectantly. I give her a little smirk before taking her mug and heading back behind the counter to get her a fresh cup. After giving it to her, I go back and stand against the front counter, watching her rather warily. She smiles knowingly over the brim of her cup but says nothing. After awhile she goes back to her magazine. I turn to check the clock again and barely catch her murmured, "Such a waste."

.x.

As the weeks continue, a pattern is formed. Every morning I meet Danni down on the front walk – though I now meet her fully clothed, which caused some amusement the day after the first as I ran out, still tugging a shirt over my head. She always smiles, hugs me, plants a kiss on my cheek, tells me she loves me, and then walks away before I have the chance to say anything else. And she never looks back.

During the day, I either work (thankfully that strangely fashionable witch hasn't been back in yet) or lay around Gran's doing absolutely nothing. I guess I should be looking for a better job – I got enough N.E.W.T.s that I could probably find pretty decent employment – but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't know why, I just can't. Every time I start thinking about it something inside me just freezes against the idea.

Somewhere between three forty-five and four o'clock, Danni usually gets back from school and stops in for a couple hours. Usually she stays for supper, though sometimes she doesn't. She hasn't spoken a word about her mum or Craig since that first weekend she told me about them. She does a lot of talking about school – her friends, her teachers, her classes. She complains a lot about the workload and attempts to explain to me how the Muggle education system works. It only serves to confuse me, so after awhile she stopped trying. She talks a little about some of the guys at her school, and I find myself a tiny bit resentful of the blokes who get to see her all day, five days out of the week. I know I shouldn't feel that way because, technically, Danni and I aren't dating.

That seems to be another taboo subject: Us. Danni avoids all discussion of whatever we are to each other. I don't blame her – it's not a comfortable topic – but I kind of wish we'd get it out of the way. What am I to her anyway? What do we tell people? Am I her boyfriend? What?

Another thing we rarely discuss is the baby. It's almost as though she thinks that by not talking about it, it will make it less real. Granted, you couldn't tell even a little bit just by looking at her that Danni is pregnant – she's as thin and in-shape as ever, and I highly doubt anyone would suspect such a thing. It's only been a few weeks after all. Still, I wish we could talk about it. The fact of the matter is, in just a little over seven months, we are going to be parents, and so far we haven't discussed a single thing about how on earth we're going to support a kid.

Now, as I lie nearly upside down on the sofa in the living room, watching the television with my head hanging onto the floor, I turn with some difficulty to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Three forty-seven. Danni should be home any minute now. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, the door flies open and Danni practically dances into the room. She stops in the doorway and looks at me, cocking her head to one side and scrutinizing my position curiously. Then she lets out a tiny laugh.

"Why are you hanging off the sofa like that?" she asks in amusement, coming and sitting down beside me. I look up at her, craning my neck painfully to see her face. She's grinning down at me.

"I dunno actually," I say truthfully. "I was bored."

Danni holds out one hand to me, offering to pull me up. I take it and manage to half push myself up with her help. Swinging my legs over top of her, I shift into a more comfortable position.

"How was school?" I ask with mock-interest. She rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Stupid," she mutters. "It's as though all the teachers think they're the only ones who give out homework! I have so much," she groans, swinging her bag to the floor. It lands with a loud thump!

"What did you do today?" asks Danni, glancing at the television.

"Pretty much this," I say with a rueful grin. "I didn't have to work today. Apparently Roberta hired another busboy, so I only have to work twice a week. I told her I could work more, but she told me I should be out looking for a real job and leave dishwashing to home-schooled kids who want some pocket money."

"Have you been looking for a "real" job?" she asks gently. I fight against the sudden chill that ripples through me at that thought. I don't understand my reluctance to work any more than Danni or Gran does, but I can tell it irritates them both that I haven't found anything better than the coffee shop.

"I will, Danni, I promise," I say, not looking at her. She grabs my hands and I force myself to meet her gaze.

"Jake, we're going to need money in a few months," she says quietly, and I clench my jaw against the sudden onslaught of emotion: terror, anger, tension.

"I know," I whisper, squeezing her hands. "And I'll find a job, I promise. Okay? I will. We'll be okay."

Since we've already breached one unspeakable topic, I hesitantly venture at the other. "How … how are things at home?" I murmur. She pulls away, her expression shutting down completely, and I can tell things haven't gotten better.

"The same," she says stiffly.

"Have you told them yet?" I ask, and her guilty expression is answer enough. I know she's worried about what her stepfather will think, but she should at least tell her mum about the baby. She won't be able to hide it forever.

"Danni…"

"I know, I know," she sighs. "I know I should tell them – my mum at least – but … I can't, Jake," she says, looking up at me anxiously. "She'll be so disappointed in me. And Craig …" she shudders slightly, and I wrap an arm around her. She leans against me and sighs again.

"I hate it there," she murmurs.

"I know," I reply softly. "And you should get out of there."

"How?" she demands. "I can't just walk out – Craig probably wouldn't care, but Mum would call the police."

"If you just talked to her-"

"She wouldn't understand," Danni says stubbornly. "She would want me at home – she'd say it would be better for me – for the baby. And … I think she's scared of being left alone with him," she says, her voice lowering to a faint whisper. "I don't blame her," she adds quietly.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," she suggests after a few minutes of silence. She turns and peers up at me. "Let's do something."

"Like what?" I ask. "There's nothing to do."

Danni lapses into silence for awhile before her face brightens. She looks at me coyly. "You could explain something to me," she suggests with her eyebrows raised. I look at her in confusion.

"Explain what?"

"Quidditch?"

I stare at her. Why on earth would she want to know about Quidditch? "Why?" I ask.

Her expression becomes frustrated. "Because Mrs. P won't! I heard her mention it once and I asked her what it was and she refused to tell me! What's so terrible about it?"

"Nothing," I say with a chuckle, and she looks at me sourly. "Quidditch is a wizard sport. Played on broomsticks."

"Really?" she asks, intrigued now. I grin. "Broomsticks that fly?" she questions, looking slightly doubtful now. I nod at her.

"Fifty, sixty, seventy feet in the air," I add, and she gives me a dubious look.

"I thought that was some sort of myth – that witches fly on brooms."

"Hey, wizards fly on brooms too," I say indignantly, and she smiles. "I can prove it," I add, standing up and detangling myself from her. She follows me curiously into the kitchen where the Daily Prophet is lying on the counter. I pick it up and open it with a dramatic flourish, and she giggles. I turn to the sports section and scan scores quickly – it's been awhile since I actually picked up a paper – and am pleased to see Ireland has only lost one game so far this season.

"We're going to a Quidditch game next weekend," I inform her, peering at her over the top of the paper. She looks at me in surprise.

"We are?"

"Yep. Ireland versus England."

"How are we going to get there?" she asks skeptically, and I grin at her. She looks at me slightly nervously.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" I say, and she smiles uneasily.

"I guess so."

I lay the paper down on the counter again and take Danni into my arms again. "You'll love it," I assure her, and she smiles up at me.

"If you say so."

"I do."

She just grins and hugs me close pressing her cheek against my chest. I wonder why I've never noticed how tall she is. She's at least as tall as Skyla – her head reaches just past my shoulder, which is much more than Aria could say, being as short as she is. I rest my chin on the top of Danni's head and try to stop thinking about Aria. It won't do me any good. I squeeze Danni close and close my eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asks softly, and I sigh.

"Nothing," I murmur, lifting my head, opening my eyes, and looking down at her. I smile and hug her again. She continues to look concerned though.

"Jake, you can tell me," she says, reaching up and resting a soft hand against my cheek. I look at her standing there, looking up at me worriedly, and I lean forward and kiss her gently. She pulls back and looks at me in confusion.

"Jake, don't do that," she says rather petulantly. "Just tell me."

"I was thinking about how much shorter Aria is than you," I tell her bluntly, and a dark look flickers across her face at the mention of Aria. "And that's why I didn't tell you," I say softly, brushing hair from her face. "It's not important."

Danni sighs and looks up at me, biting her lip. She looks as though she's fighting an internal battle as she watches me, her eyes flickering uncertainly. Then she reaches up on her toes and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "Tell me about Aria," she whispers, sinking back down onto her feet.

"Are-are you sure?" I ask her hesitantly. Every mention of Aria irks her, and I've been very careful over the last month or so to keep from mentioning her.

She nods, looking suddenly determined. "I think you need to talk about it, Jake," she says quietly.

x.x

Danni

We settle back onto the sofa in the other room, and Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stand up in odd tufts. I reach out and smooth it down, and he winces as though the gesture brings back a painful memory.

He starts talking. He starts by explaining the Floo Network, and then how Aria fell on him the first time they ever met. He tells me about her mum's strange reaction to him, and about Sean basically ruining their friendship. He tells me about their first year at Hogwarts, about Aria's mum dying, about that first summer and how hard it was for her.

He talks and talks and talks. I don't interrupt or ask any questions. He talks for more than an hour about Aria and how he fell in love with her. The way he talks about her makes me ache – it's so obvious he loves her. But I listen without complaint.

When he finishes he just sits there and stares at me. I try to read his expression, but it's just … blank. Dead, tired, emotionless. I reach for his hand, and he lets me take it.

"I'm sorry, Jake," I murmur, rubbing circles across his hand. "I didn't realize…"

He sighs and shakes his head. "Forget it, Danni. I'm sick of talking about it." I bite my lip and nod, and he gently extracts his hand from mine and slips an arm around my waist. I let him draw me close and lean his head against the top of mine. I can feel his jaw clench against my head, and I know he's fighting to keep calm.

"I miss her so much," he whispers, hugging me tight. I squeeze his arm, putting aside my own hurt for him.

"I know you do," I sigh. "But I has to get easier, doesn't it?"

"I sure hope so, Danni," he murmurs back. "Because this is hell."

I hug him close and raise my head. He looks down at me with a slightly distraught look in his eyes. I kiss him gently on the cheek and the shadow of a smile makes its way across his face.

"I love you, Jake. And I'm here for you," I tell him, knowing that right now he just needs someone to hold, and that's about all I can do for him now.

"Thanks, Danni," he whispers.

A/N: Ack, that was a terrible chapter. I had to rewrite it about a hundred times, and I had to cut out the beginnings of an entire subplot that was going to play all the way through the story till the end, but I realized it didn't really work, and I didn't really need another subplot, so I had to cut it out, and this chapter just sucked! I hated it. I have the next chapter almost completely done, so I'll post it asap.

One other thing. I've gone back and completely edited the last twenty chapters. Not a lot has changed from what was originally written – I fixed a minor timeline problem I had. Also, Kay's hair is no longer blonde. I wrote her with blonde hair, but I keep imagining her with brown hair. So she has brown hair now. Sorry if that's confusing, but I was getting sick of writing one thing and imagining another, and I had to fix it. Almost all inconsistencies have been fixed throughout the story now, so it should read easier. Not to say that you have to go back and reread the entire story – not a lot has changed.

I have nothing interesting to say to you today (shocking, huh?). So I'll leave it here with this uncharacteristically short author's note. I don't have the energy to go back and reread the entire chapter before posting, so if there are any errors or anything please let me know and I'll fix them. Thanks! Please review!