I want to apologize for not being able to make up my mind. But sitting at home for three days, the first day being filled with stomach flu, so no school, and the other two days filled with snow day boredness (I hate snow,) I have decided to be paranoid and switch over my "Summer, Love, and Quidditch" story (part II) back over to the Acadamy, considering they're the same story, just different parts. Please don't hate me!

This is just Part II of The Acadamy, so I should probably call it that.(:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. At all. So, yeah.(:

PART TWO

America

July Fifth

"I don't think that I can do this."

"You have to, or else you'll be a traitor to Our cause and your family will never be safe from Us."

"What do you mean, my family will never be safe? I'm looking at a part of it right now!"

"The Order needs to know that We can trust you."

"If my own family can't trust me, how can you?"

"Either you do it, or I'll do it."

"She's my sister."

"Sweetheart, you won't be a part of the Order, of Our perfect society, until you prove that you will do anything to rid the world of Muggle filth. You are lucky you are able to look upon one such as me, with that dirt in your bloodstream. You do want to clean first the United States, then the world, don't you?"

"I...I do."

"Then say the word, Jessica."

"...C..."

"Say it, Jessica."

"...Crucio."

"Say it like you mean it!"

"CRUCIO!"

July First, 1995

I'd never seen something so beautiful, with short green grass that was soft and painted, the blue sky flying over me, the smell of sea salt gracing my nose. Stands rose all the way around, clocking the actual view of the sea, but I knew that it was there and it calmed me.

In the shape of an oval, five hundred feet long and a hundred and eighty feet wide, it had a small central circle of approximately two feet in diameter. At each end there were three perfectly-maintained hoop goal posts of different heights, surrounded by a scoring area. I knew that the early barrel-goals had been replaced by baskets on stilts, but whilst they were practical, they did carry an inherent problem: there was no size restriction on the baskets, which differed dramatically from pitch to pitch.

But since 1883, there had been regulations, and I kept my Quidditch Pitch in perfect order.

After all, Leigh Nelson's Quidditch pitches were world-renowned.

I smiled at that small compliment that I'd gotten, flying around to the goalposts which were being painted red, white, and blue for the Fourth of July coming up. Each stand even had its own color, and the colonial buildings of the mostly-wizard town nearby was even filled with nothing but red, white, blue, and the American way.

"Hey, watch where you're swinging that thing!" I shouted to one of the wizards helping decorate the stadium. My red wall now had white stars all over it. "I would have been starry all night!"

"My bad, Miss Nelson," the man said, blushing a little bit.

I rolled my eyes at him and charmed my wall back to completely red. This stadium has to be perfect…

"Hey, Leigh Ann!" came a cry, and I looked down from my height to see a familiar-looking black head of hair. "They'll be at the house in ten minutes on the Port Key. If you're not ready, Mom'll flip out on you."

I looked down to my watch to see that it was already one o'clock. "Oh. Sorry, Jason, I just lost track of time!"

"You've been doing that a lot, lately…"

I came down from my newly-painted wall, to stand next to my tall, black-haired, blue-eyed brother and his usually impish grin. Right now, though, it was set in a stern line. "But listen, the Bulgarian National Quidditch team is going to be here in less than five minutes. I might be late, but I've got to see them here. Rachael is sick, and—"

Jason just held up a hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you just want to see Viktor Krum."

I blushed, but I felt that the largest smile was on my face. Viktor Krum, one of my very good friends, was coming to America to play against our team. I had talked to him by letter all summer, but finally I would be able to see him again. "Maybe," I said, looking away from his eyes. "So…will you give my excuse?"

At first, he didn't say anything. But then he resigned and put a hand on my shoulder, shaking me. "Sure, kid. But you owe me. They're yours and Mom's friends, not mine."

"Oh, come on, you got along pretty well with Bill."

He smirked. "Yeah, guess I did. Did I ever tell you that I wanted to be a Curse Breaker when I graduate?"

I punched him in the arm. "Oh, go jump in a lake."

"With this heat? Gladly."

I rolled my eyes and kicked off from the ground, about a foot above his head. "Get off of my pitch, Nelson."

"I'll see you at dinner," he said with a laugh. "And if you ever call me Nelson again, I'll kick you through your pitch's rings." And, with that, he Apparated with a small pop!

I rolled my eyes, ready to kick off again, when I heard, "They're here!"

Oh, Merlin, do I look okay? I looked down at my torn jeans and stained white t-shirt, quickly feeling that it was NOT okay! I waved my wand at my shirt, turning it into a fitted brown tank top with a white half jacket up top, short-sleeved. Then I waved them at my pants, which turned into not-too-tight skinny jeans, dark wash. I pulled my hair up behind me in a ponytail with a bump instead of my bangs down and got rid of my shoes, turning them into a pair of cute white high heels, quickly painting my toenails brown. (With magic, of course.) Lastly I used "Scourfy!" on my face to rid myself of any excess paint, and added a small amount of makeup.

Harold Flannigan, the assistant manager of the American National Quidditch Team, looked me up and down when I landed next to him. "Trying to impress someone, are you?"

"Nope. Just wanted to look good for a friend."

"Sure…" he said with a roll of his eyes.

I nervously smoothed down the front of my shirt, holding my broom in front of me with shaking hands. Why am I so nervous, its just Viktor! I tried to tell myself, but it didn't work, so I was still nervous and jittery, feeling slightly lightheaded. I know all of the team already, I've met them before…

"Ah, here they are. Keeper, Lev Zograf. You know him already, of course."

I reached forwards and shook hands with the dark-haired man. "Good to see you again, Lev. You did well at the World Cup, but I heard that you blocked over three-fourths of the Irish's goals in your battle against them last month!"

He smiled, his bright teeth stunningly white against his darker skin. "I ahm happy that you are keeping oop. You are all groown oop now, though." Lev smirked and stepped back, nudging up two more dark-haired men. "Ivan Volkov and Pyotr Vulchanov. Beaters. I do not knoow if you remember theem."

She shook hands with both of them, scrutinizing them. "You," she said, pointing to Ivan, "need to work on your grip."

"Vhat?"

"From that handshake you just gave me, I can tell that you've probably lost more than one Beater's bat." I turned to the others and raised one finely-shaped eyebrow. "Am I right?"

The others laughed, clapping Ivan on the back and saying, "She's got you!" in Bulgarian and English alike.

"Alexei Levski," a blonde-haired, dark-eyed, older man said, stepping forwards. He looked me over with obvious interest, not even looking me in the eyes. "A pleesoor."

"It'll be even more of a pleasure if you'd look at my face, not my breasts." The other men laughed at the unfortunate Chaser, and I shook my head at him, smiling. "Lets see… Where are my other two Chasers? Ah, Clara Ivanova!" I exclaimed, shaking the woman's hand vigorously.

"Have ve meet?" she asked in heavily-accented English, returning the shake, but hesitantly.

"No, I don't think so, but you are the only woman on this team, and I'm grateful for it! Happy day, happy day, a woman on the Bulgarian team!"

She looked a little overwhelmed as she took her hand away. "Ah. Vell, good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too. And now, I'm missing Dimitorv." I went up and threw my arms around the older man, the oldest on the team, but also the Captain. "Aren't you getting close to retirement, old man?" I asked with a laugh, hugging him tight. I knew that I wouldn't break him.

The graying-haired man laughed and hugged me back. "Its good to see you too, Leigh Ann. And I still have another two good years left in me." He pulled back. "How's your mother?"

"Same as always, though tired. Little Nikki has discovered that even though she can't talk, somehow she can sing. So Mom's not going to get any sleep for the next few weeks, and hasn't been."

Suddenly someone came up behind me, wrapping thick, hard arms around my waist. I was pulled against a completely hard and familiar chest, long legs, and a rough cheek. "Heeloo, Neelsoon," a hot breath said right against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"VIKTOR!" I shouted in glee, turning around in his arms and threw mine around him, hugging him to me. "I can't believe it, you're actually here!" I was so happy that I was acting like a child in a candy store. Viktor shouldn't remind you of candy, my brain chided, but I just smiled and held onto him. Viktor was in South Carolina!

"I vould noot mees my oown game," he said, hugging me back. I had to remember that he was my friend, and not melt into his muscular chest, or remember what it looked like, or…

I shook my head, pulling back and smiling into his familiar brown eyes. "No, guess not…but guess what!"

"Vhat?" he asked, and I was suddenly aware that my feet were not touching the ground.

"Put me down, you big oaf, and I'll tell you," I grunted, realizing that I also couldn't breathe with his arms so tight around me. A slight amount of flush appeared in his ears, and he did as I said. He was wearing his uniform, maroon with black lining, but without his forearm guards, gloves, goggles, and, like the rest of the men, his Quidditch shirt was hanging around his hips, the black turtleneck underneath on their chests instead. "Alright, so, I've been practicing…"

"Oof course," he said, his hands still on my elbows, my arms resting on top of his. "I vould eexpect noothing less."

"And I just got my Letter from the Academy," I explained, loving the feel of his bare forearms, noticing that my hands weren't even large enough to cover half… "So," I said, trying to rid myself of those thoughts, "I've just discovered that I'm Captain of the Army's Quidditch Team!"

"Coongratoolations," he said sincerely, and I used this as another excuse to hug him, though he was the one who really did the hugging. When I was set back down, I noticed that Harold had taken the rest of the team around, to show them quarters and the field. Thank youuuu, Harold. "I knew that you could do eet."

"Well, without you, it never would have happened." He flushed a little more at this, and I smiled at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. We walked along the pitch, I avoiding letting my heels dig into my perfect grass. "So, whaddya think?"

"The stadioom…eet ees beauteefool. Eet ees all doone by you?"

"Mostly," I said, feeling instant pride at the look of wonderment on his face. "I don't know where this place would be without me…I swear, if I get white stars shot at me one more time, the castor is going to get shot through the goal."

Viktor picked his arm up from my hand and wrapped it around my shoulder. It was so heavy that I actually gave a small Oomph! "Eet ees good to see you again, Leahn." He had laughter in his voice, and when I looked up, he was smiling. Merlin, I missed you. And apparently I said it out loud.

"I missed you," I said softly, looking away from his face. "I mean, I know that you probably had a lot to do, none of that including my nagging about you being a famous Quidditch player, but towards the end, it was a lot of fun."

Suddenly his face went dark, and he slowly removed his arm, putting his hand on my shoulder blades instead. "Leahn, I vant to say—"

"Don't say it again," I warned him, giving him a slight glare. He'd done something that he wasn't proud of, back at Hogwarts, when we'd both been champions. He'd been under the Imperius Curse, and had used the Crucio Curse on me. "You've apologized enough. It wasn't you, I know it wasn't you, so that's that. It wasn't your fault."

"Boot I—"

"Viktor," I growled, stopping in my tracks and turning on him. "I don't want to hear it. Come on, you've just got here! I want to spend time with you, not argue." Suddenly, as though my brain knew that I wanted the conversation to turn around, I remembered the dinner. "Oh! Good Lord, I forgot."

"Vhat?" he asked, looking slightly worried.

"The Weasleys are coming over for the week, too. I completely forgot! And then…hey, Viktor, why don't you just come on over for dinner? Hermione and hopefully her parents will be here, and you were friends with Ron, right?"

He looked very confused, and I supposed that it would take him a moment to process all of the English. "Ah…I moost geet permeesioon, boot…"

"Great!" I exclaimed, hugging his arm. I then made my clipboard appear out of thin air, quickly writing my address down onto it and giving him the sheet of paper. "Here's my address, you don't have to wear anything fancy. You can Floo if you want. Jason'll love to see you again, and so will my mom!"

"I am looking forvard to eet," he said, and I saw the sincerity in his deep, chocolate brown eyes, though he seemed a little confused at my sudden departure.

I looked down at my watch and saw that it was almost two. "Ah! Okay, Viktor, I've got to go, so I'll see you later…" In my haste, I jumped up and planted a kiss on his cheek, before quickly Apparating home with a loud CRACK!

The second I appeared in the kitchen in my house, my grandmother—not my mother, my grandmother—was on me. "Where in the world have you been? Your mother has been keeping the guests company, and if you want dinner to go as planned, then you need to get an apron on and help me this instant!"

You see, my grandmother wasn't old and stuffy like other grandmothers. No, she was my Gamma, with deeply tanned skin, a relatively smooth face, short, dark hair, and a Cherokee heritage. Part of that was given to me, with long legs and high cheekbones, but she was way taller than I was.

I smiled and put an apron around me, helping out. My mother then Apparated into the kitchen, looking at me. "How long have you been here?"

I blushed and about told her that I had just gotten there, but Gamma cut in. "She's been in here for a half an hour, helping me. Do you need her?"

"Well, her friends are here, so I supposed that she would want to greet them…" my mother said, looking at the two of us curiously.

Oh, yeah, did I mention that my Gamma was amazingly awesome?

"Can I, real quick?" I asked the amazing, most wonderful Gamma in the world, sticking my lower lip out. "Please? I've been working all day."

My grandmother's eyes narrowed, but she finally shooed us both out of "her" kitchen. I walked through our very open dining room, which had been charmed to be bigger, as well as the table, and out into the large living room in the front of the house.

Sitting in our many armchairs, rocking chairs, and our couch, were the Weasley and Granger families, talking animatedly to each other.

Molly Weasley, a plump, pale, red-haired, and kind woman, was sitting in a rocking chair, holding Nicole in her arms, rocking the small child. Mr. Weasley, Arthur, was a tall, weary-looking man with the same colored red hair and very kind eyes and was sitting next to his wife in another rocking chair.

On the couch sat Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley, three of my very good friends, talking happily and admiring the room, waiting to see America. I hadn't seen them since the Triwizard Tournament, where we'd shared a teary goodbye.

In a loveseat by the fireplace sat Mr. and Mrs. Granger, two very happy looking adults who were dressed nicely and had brown hair. Hermione took more after her father, who had given her her trusting smile and eyes.

And then there was Fred, George, and another Weasley whom I had never met. That must be Charlie, I thought, thinking that he was probably the shortest of the Weasleys. He might have been six foot, but made up for his "shortness" with his bulk. He was strong-armed, with many scars and burns up and down them. He had so many freckles that it looked as if he had a tan. When he looked up, he had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen.

"Hey, everyone," I said, smiling. None of them had even seen me come in. "Did I miss anything?" Fred and George were instantly on top of me. They wrapped their arms around me, each kissing one side of my face. "What was that for?"

"Your apron says Kiss the Chef!" Fred—or at least I think it was Fred—said, a wide, cheeky smile on his face.

"Where've y'been?" George demanded, hugging me close.

"We were starting to worry!"

"But don't worry, we've been keeping your mother company."

"Lovely woman, that one."

"And your grandmother—a wonderful cook!"

"Though she's got one heck of a backswing with that frying pan…"

I laughed at Fred saying that. "What, did you try to steal some dessert while her back was turned?"

"Who, us?" George asked, mock hurt on his face. "Never!"

"Oh, leave her alone you two," came Hermione's voice, and I saw that she and Ginny were standing in front of me, smiles on their faces. The twins moved out of the way and the girls took their turns hugging me. "We've missed you!"

"It's going to be lonely without you at Hogwarts next year," Ginny said into my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, you guys just wanted to see America," I said, chuckling, but trying to hold a stern face.

Hermione pulled back, a smile on her face. "We really did."

I looked over to the couch to see that Ron was just sitting there. "Fred, George, get your brother's lazy bum up here so I can hug him too." The twins went over and grabbed their brother up under the arms, dragging him over to me. "Hi, Ron," I said, hugging him tightly.

"Oh, gerroff me, Leigh," he mumbled, blushing from head to toe.

"I missed you too, Ron." Then, standing behind him was the Weasley I'd never met. "I'd say you're Charlie, am I right?"

He smiled a large, white smile, engulfing my small hand in his large one. "Sure am. Now I see why George asked you to the ball, you really are stunning."

I blushed deeply. "Thanks, Charlie. Glad to see that you have the charm of the rest of your brothers." He smirked like the rogue he was, wrapping an arm around me and giving me a brotherly hug.

Next up were the Grangers, who I hadn't met before. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Mr. Granger smiled sweetly. "Hermione hasn't stopped talking about you. Well, only when talking about Harry, Ron, and Ginny." He shook my hand. "It's good to finally meet you."

I then turned to Mrs. Granger, shaking her hand too. "I'm so glad that you both could come. I hear that you've never been to America?"

She shook her head, smiling Hermione's smile. "No, and I'm sure that it will be simply wonderful."

I smiled back. "It will be, I promise."

And lastly, there were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, though Mrs. Weasley wouldn't just settle for a handshake. She stood up and hugged me, holding baby Nicole so that she wouldn't get squished between us. "Hello, deary. Such a pleasure to see you again."

"Same here, Mrs. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley stood up and shook my hand, patting my back with his other. "Good to see you again, Leigh. Fred and George have been going on and on about…what was it? Your suggestion…"

"Oh…right. The photograph solution that makes the developed pictures do crazy things," I said, smiling over to the twins. "How are you guys doing with that?"

Fred smiled, though it wasn't big. "We're doing."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not bad exactly…"

"But Fred burnt half of his right eyebrow off in testing it."

I smiled wider, feeling that having my friends back was the best thing in the world. "Hey, it was only a suggestion…"

"But a bloody brilliant one at that!"

I shook my head in laughter, but my mother had to ruin the moment by asking, "Leigh, have you seen your sister?"

"Like I keep track of what she's doing." With the look she gave me, though, I quickly said, "I-I'm not sure. She left before I did and hasn't come back."

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I don't know what I'm going to do with that girl. If she's not back by four, I'll send her an—"

"Owl's here," I said, wondering exactly why things happened like that, as if on cue. I fed the brown barn owl a piece of bread and sent it on its way. I unrolled the small letter and read it, knowing that Mom was about to flip. "Says that she can't come home. Something about a Demiguise?" I read farther, feeling a slight ping of sadness. "Oh… Sam is sick. And she has to put the silencing charms on all of the Fwooper again before tomorrow… Leo is lonely…excuses, excuses… And…OH!"

"What?" my mother asked, worry in her eyes. "What is it?"

"Its…the start of Erumpent mating season," I said, my eyes feeling my eyes go wide. Good Lord… Jessica, you're going to become nothing but a splatter on the wall one of these days…

Charlie suddenly stood, his blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Alright, who is Jessica, and has she ever dealt with Erumpents before?" he asked, his eyes shifting left and right, worrying his hands.

I laughed, wondering if he was really asking that, but then remembering that he'd never even met my sister. "She's my sister, a year younger than me. And she's successfully bred four Erumpent for the African Ministry of Magic. Only one went awry, and that was because Jessica wasn't there. Good thing I stayed far enough away… Poor beasts. Jessica had my ass for that."

"Leigh, language!"

"Sorry, Mom, but it was true. I couldn't sit down for a week."

Rene sighed and shook her head, taking the letter from me. "Oh…well, I suppose I'll have to excuse her…for now. Though I must say that she's being very rude."

"They've already met her," I said, frowning. How was it that, whenever Jessica did something wrong, she got off easy, but when I did something wrong it was thrown right back in my face?

My mother glared at me. "She hasn't met the Grangers, or Charlie, Leigh Anna Marie. Now, I want you to show our guests to their rooms."

I sighed and nodded, quickly putting on a face for them. I led them down one of the more prominent halls, off to the right of the den. "Alright, so Mr. and Mrs. Granger, the room right here, next to my grandparents. Don't worry, they're Muggles, too. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the room across from them… Ginny, you're at the end of the hall." I then took the rest of them to the second floor, where the other rooms were located. "Ron, the room on the left, Hermione, the room on the right, Charlie, the room at the end. Fred, George, I'll show you your rooms in a moment. Its special, so you can still keep up on your inventions. Go on back down to the living room and I'll show it to you." I gave them both a look. "I know you're just here so that you can open an American branch of Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

Fred smiled widely. "You know us so well."

"But really," Fred said, walking away from me with his brother, "we came to see you, too."

"Sure," I said, drawing the word out. Then, I turned back to Charlie. I was going to reassure him that Jessica had everything under control, because he had looked completely stressed during my reading of the letter. "Hey, Charlie."

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back to me. He had been looking inside his room, apparently impressed.

"Don't worry about the animals my little sister is working with. They're in good hands."

"How old is she? Sixteen?" he asked, a frown on his thin lips.

"Seventeen."

"But…I thought that you—"

Augh…this again. I held up a hand to him. "She's nine months younger than me. So, for three months out of the year, we're the same age. It's a pain in my backside." He still looked worried, though. I sighed. "She's been working with them since she was ten. The first one she had was a Re'em. She found the poor guy injured, dying in a forest we were camping in up towards Quebec. She insisted that we bring him home, and she didn't leave his side. After that, he never left her. Well…until he passed away last year. She hasn't been the same. She won't leave the sanctuary she's built for them."

He looked a little curious, now. "When will I get to meet this girl?"

"Probably never, with her schedule. If she's not with her animals, studying, dancing, or studying again, she's sleeping." I snorted. "As if she sleeps…"

He looked very curious now. "Hmm…alright. Well, I'll see you at dinner, Leigh Ann…nice to meet you…" and he walked into his room, almost walking into the door jam.

I laughed, shaking my head, and turned around to go and show Fed and George their bomb shelter.

Viktor Krum

She had gained back the weight she had lost, though it looked better on her. Before, when she had lost all of that weight, her clothes had started to hang off of her body, and she had always looked swallow and sickly.

Now, though, she was back to being filled out, full of life and happy. Her body was perfect, if not "perfect" as in other people's standards, but perfect to him, nonetheless. Her hourglass figure was the only thing he wanted to see on her, other than perhaps the round stomach of a woman bearing a child.

Viktor had been furious when his teammates had looked at her as if she were something to eat. And, when she wasn't looking, the men who worked for her couldn't take their eyes off of her backside or her chest. Well, neither could he, but there was a difference! He knew that he had to do something, to keep the others away from her until he knew when to make his move, but what?

She isn't mine. There's nothing I can do. Viktor quickly shook his head, taking his eyes off of her and trying to concentrate on the conversation at hand. Something about Quidditch. Someone was asking him a question. Why couldn't he pay attention?

"Hey, Viktor, you okay?" Jason asked, elbowing the Quidditch player in the side.

He snapped out of his daze of picturing Leigh Ann with a child growing inside of her and turned his attention back to her mother. "Err—my apoologeez. Vhat vere you saying?"

Rene smiled, a knowing look in her hazel eyes. "I was asking you if you would join us for our Fourth of July celebration."

Viktor had to remember what the Fourth of July was for the Americans—it was their "independence day." Apparently they had fireworks and something called a "cook-out." He wasn't sure about it, but if he could be around Leigh Ann then he knew it would be just fine. "Oolf course."

"You'll have to get Muggle clothing," Leigh Ann sang as she danced around the table, refilling platters of food with magic and manually refilling drinks. She came to refill his cup, leaning down next to him and showing an enticing amount of cleavage as she threw her hair over one shoulder, smiling to him. "You okay with that?"

If you stay right there, I will be, he thought, taking her in. At the pitch earlier, she had smelled like freshly cut grass and some kind of soft vanilla scent. Now she smelled like flour instead of grass, but the vanilla smell was still there. "Yees."

"Then that means you have to come to my birthday party, too," she said with a large, bright smile, setting her pitcher of "sweet tea" down onto the table. Her lips were centimeters away from his, and he wanted to lean forwards and close the distance between them and taste the vanilla on her lips.

"You vill be eighteen?"

"Yup!" Her eyes were slightly hesitant as she asked, "So…you'll come?"

"I vill be there."

"I'm so excited!" she squealed. She then wrapped both of her arms around his neck, hugging his head to her perfect chest. He reveled in how soft it was, wanting to stay there forever.

But she released him and ran over to her mother. "Alright, we've got to plan. What's the theme? Have we already decided, or do we need to?"

Jason then quickly butted in before his sister could ramble on. "It's a week before your birthday and you still haven't chosen a theme?"

Leigh chose to ignore him. "I'll need a guest list. Mom, am I excused? Please?"

It took Rene a few moments to think, as her daughter could never hold an entire conversation. "Err…yeah, go ahead."

Leigh leaned down and kissed her mother on the cheek. "Thanks!"

Viktor watched as she skipped happily out of the room, jeans snug against the plumpness of her butt. He didn't think he'd ever seen something so perfect, either. He didn't care if she was "overweight" by other people's standards; he enjoyed the way she was at that moment.

"I guess I'll take the men," Jason said with a full mouth, waving his fork around.

"For vhat?" Viktor asked, still not letting his eyes leave the spot where Leigh Ann had disappeared.

"To get clothes," he explained, though not before he swallowed. "This town is mainly Muggle. You can't be seen walking around in your Quidditch robes, or any robes for that matter. Besides, you're from Bulgaria, I doubt that you have summer clothing."

"Ah…soommer cloothing." Muggle clothing. He didn't think that whatever was going to happen was going to go over well. Muggle clothing? He wasn't so sure he liked that idea.

"Leigh Ann, Mrs. Granger and I will take the girls, then, and we'll all make sure to dress up for you boys." She gave a wink to Viktor, who then couldn't help but blush down to his toes. He was sure that his mother knew about the impure thoughts he'd been having about her daughter.

"I'd say lets split the guys up," Jason said, looking at all of them, "but considering that all of you are pureblood, besides you, Mr. Granger, I'd say that none of you know how to dress Muggle." Of course, none of them said anything, so he continued. "Lets see…George, Fred, Charlie, Mr. Weasley, Ron…"

"I can help," Mr. Granger said, and he looked like he actually wanted to and would enjoy it. "I'm sure that I can do something, at least."

Rene smiled wickedly. "And the three of us women have Ginny, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and…well, I guess that's it for us. We'll have an easier time than you boys, I'm sure."

Viktor was wondering how exactly they would make him dress. He'd seen some Muggle clothing and he wasn't so sure that he would like it. Then again, he'd seen Leigh Ann in Muggle clothing and couldn't get enough of her.

I guess we'll have to see what happens…

Here's a look at the next chapter, "July Second,"

Viktor rushed up the hill, determined to get to Leigh before she did something that she would regret. He saw her walking ahead, and he quickly caught up to her, softly grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him.

Her beautiful face was streaked with tears, and she refused to look him in the face. He didn't say anything, though, only pulled her close and held her softly against him. She didn't move to wrap her arms back around him, only grasped his jersey and put her face in his chest. She silently cried there, staying stiff, as if she were ashamed about what had happened, like she didn't want him to see her cry.

"You are beauteefool the way you are," he said softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She gasped and looked up, trying to form words but failing, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. Her hazel eyes were more brown than green at the moment, red and puffy, and were very wide, frightened.

"V-Viktor," she whispered, shaking her head and letting another tear fall, "I-I'm sorry, its j-just that—"

He took one hand up from her waist to cup the side of her face, using his thumb to wipe away that stray tear. "Shh."