Part 25 - Mating Habits of Ravenclaws and Puffskeins

"The most important thing to remember is not to panic."

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew that they were ridiculous. The most important thing to remember at that moment would've been something far more practical or at least something vaguely useful, but, unfortunately, I had no such knowledge upon which to draw and had to settle for the hollow reassurance while my mind spluttered stupidly trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

Cho didn't seem the least bit comforted, staring across the space between us with dark, tear-filled eyes as she hoarsely informed me, "I'm well past the panicking stage, thanks."

I stared back at her for a few moments before roaring, "How the bloody hell can you be pregnant?!"

"SHHH!!" she replied, gaze darting anxiously to the closed door of her large bedroom, "My parents will disown me if they find out!"

"I think you've got bigger problems!" I replied. Realizing that I wasn't going to be of much use if I freaked out, too, I took a deep, calming breath and, calmly, inquired, "You're not sure, are you? I mean, you haven't taken a test yet? Gone to a healer?"

Cho shook her head, curtain of unwashed black hair rippling around her round face and slight shoulders. "I'm two months late," she murmured, expression just... lost, "And I've been throwing up in the morning. And, well, the date of the last time Cedric and I..." She trailed off pitifully, somehow conjuring a guilty blush even through all that sorrow and depression. "It lines up," she murmured.

"Still, maybe not," I supplied hopefully, getting to my feet, "Come on. I'll take you to get a home testing kit."

"My mother isn't going to let me go anywhere," she argued.

And that made me laugh. "You didn't see her face when she walked in here and found you staring at the wall," I countered, "I got the impression that it wasn't the first time, and I think she'll be thrilled that I've talked you into an alternate activity. Go get cleaned up, and I'll take care of it."

In a daze, Cho stood shakily and wandered into an attached bathroom. I heard the shower start up and went back to trying like hell to figure out what the fuck to do.

xxXxx

Four positive piss-sticks later, the situation was looking quite a bit more definitive, but I couldn't manage to talk Cho into going to a proper healer or even a muggle clinic to have the diagnosis confirmed once and for all. She had progressed past shock right back into panic and then, firmly, denial.

"GO AWAY!" she shouted at me, again, from inside a stall in the ladies' loo at the local muggle pharmacy.

"Cho," I sighed, "You know I can't do that. Just come out, and we'll talk about this."

"NO!" the Ravenclaw replied, "GO AWAY!!" From underneath the stall door, I could see her give a petulant stomp to punctuate the statement. I really hoped that I wasn't experiencing one of those legendary pregnant-lady mood swings.

Groaning, I glanced again at the clock on the wall, mentally counting down the time left before I'd have to meet back up with Tonks; it had been quite difficult to persuade her to let me have the day to "hang out" with Cho (under the guise of cheering the girl up), and if I was late getting back, then my cousin likely wouldn't allow herself to be talked into any such scheme ever again.

"Listen," I said, "Whether you are or you aren't, whatever you want to do about either scenario, I'm here all the way. But I'm not going to keep talking to you through the door of a public toilet. It demeans us both."

I was answered with silence and, taking that as a good sign, continued, "I have maybe two more hours today, and I think that the best use of that time would be to get you to a credible medical professional who can confirm or deny and lay out all the options. That's logical, yeah?"

(Logic tends to appeal to Ravenclaws no matter what the situation.)

Again, more silence. I was just about to try climbing over the top of the cubicle when the door slowly swung open and Cho stepped out. She'd been crying again, obviously, but seemed a bit more collected as she smudged the tears off her pale cheeks. She nodded and allowed me to guide her out.

xxXxx

I was, understandably, quiet and distant at dinner that night. Luckily, everyone seemed to take my distractedness as a sign that I'd had a rough therapy session and pretty much left me alone. Not even the twins said much past their usual cheeky goodnights when I begged off to bed early.

I couldn't sleep though. Not with the tadpole-like sonogram pictures burning a hole in my pocket. Not with the memory of Cho's tearful but resolute decision to have Cedric's baby still so fresh.

Well past midnight, the door to my room creaked open and a shadowed figure crept inside. I knew it wasn't Fred; he was being very sweet and gentlemanly in honoring the agreement I'd made with my dad. And so, on the short list of people who were likely to be creeping into my bedroom in the middle of the night, that just left...

"Daddy?"

He jumped and swore, tripping a bit and apparently stubbing his toe before crashing headfirst into my bed.

Luckily, I wasn't in it, instead huddled on the window seat and staring at the stars.

I laughed, asking, "Are you alright?"

Pouting, massaging his bruised foot, he fought his way into a more dignified position in my empty bed and answered, "Ya, love. I'm fine." He waved his hand and turned the light on, smiling sheepishly as he inquired, "What're you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said, snickering, "Your excuse?"

Dad laughed, threading his fingers through his long hair and stating, "The same... it helps sometimes if I come check on you. I used to when you were little."

"I remember," I murmured, "You used to watch me sleep."

Smirking, blushing just a bit, Dad agreed, "Being a father was kind of strange for me. I'd never felt so much love before. Or so much fear. You were this... this perfect little creature that your mum and I had made together. And I drove myself half crazy thinking that someday you might be hurt or sad or scared and I wouldn't be there to make it all better." He chuckled, "I never thought there would be anything bothering you that I couldn't fix. Silly, eh?"

"Not really," I said with a watery smile, "I was under the same impression at the time."

Dad came and sat beside me on the window seat, slinging his arm around my shoulders and holding me snug against his side. There didn't seem to be anything more to say.

xxXxx

During the following two days, I went to see Cho quite a few times. However, the only way I could get out to see her was to pretend to need to talk to my shrink and then persuade whoever was sent as an escort to let me visit her instead. Our little secret, I kept saying. I just happened to have the same little secret with Tonks, Bill, Mr. Weasley, and a certain Mr. Dedalus Diggle, a random but personable Order member I'd sweet-talked into my cause. Sometimes, I'm so persuasive it's scary.

Of course, my powers of persuasion didn't do any good with Cho herself. No matter how many times I managed to meet up with her, no matter how much I badgered and begged, she just wouldn't go see a healer. She refused to even make a return trip to the discreet muggle clinic where we'd gone for the sonogram.

"I don't want anyone to know," she kept insisting, sometimes curled in a ball in her bed, sometimes in a café in the village, when I managed to coax her out of the house. "My father works at St. Mungo's," she explained, "He's an administrator, and he has a lot of friends in magical and muggle hospitals and clinics all over the world. Someone will recognize me or see my name on a file, and they will tell him. I'm not being paranoid when I say my parents will never speak to me again. They both told me as much in lieu of a sex talk."

She had it in her head that she would be able to hide the condition long enough to actually have the baby. Then, since she was due in late March, she would be of age and could get her own place over the summer, figure out the next step. If she would keep the baby or give it away.

I was completely opposed to this plan and all its assorted holes. Unfortunately, Cho was an absolute know-it-all and turned out to be quite stubborn as well.

It was after one such visit with the stubborn girl that I arrived back at number twelve a bit out of sorts. I stalked immediately into the library and began researching whether or not using a stunning spell on a pregnant woman was medically advisable.

But once I started researching, I found stopping difficult. The Grimmauld library did boast a rather impressive collection of old medical books. And, well, I always had had an interest in the subject, as one might've guessed from the fact that I used to read anatomy texts just for the fun of it.

But that's beside the point. What I discovered during the study session was that most of the charms and diagnostic spells recommended over the course of a normal pregnancy were ones I could probably learn to perform...

Crack. "Afternoon, Gorgeous."

"Godric's grapes!" I yelped, resolving to research what to do in the event of a heart attack next, "You scared the bloody daylights out of me, Fred! Just because you can apparate doesn't mean you have to do so directly behind me at all opportunities!"

My boyfriend beamed and leaped over the back of a dusty black velvet sofa, stretching his arms out theatrically and bringing them down in order to tug me tight against his side. "My sincerest apologies, fair lady," he chuckled, smacking a wet, noisy kiss onto my cheek, "I humbly prostrate myself at your feet and beg for forgiveness."

Merlin, it was like he didn't even have to try to make me laugh.

"That won't be necessary, kind sir," I giggled, tossing my book away with a hearty thunk. I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around his thick freckled neck, smiling wickedly and adding, "I can think of a much funner way for you to earn such forgiveness."

Humming happily as I rolled my body sensually along the length of his, Fred responded, "I love the way you think."

We kissed then, slow and languid. Every ounce of stress and tension seemed to melt out of me in seconds.

Fred must've felt the shudder as it left, pulling away a bit, breathless, and inquiring, "You alright, Stel?"

"Reasonably," I answered, smirking, nipping at his jaw, "Nothing a little time alone with you can't cure."

"You're sure?" he chuckled, obviously enjoying the attention but squirming a bit to keep his mouth free for talking, "You've been seeing the shrink a lot the last few days."

Mention of the shrink reminded me of what I'd actually been doing during the visits, and I groaned, thinking of Cho, letting my forehead fall to rest on Fred's brawny shoulder.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," the redhead added quickly, rubbing my back, "I was just a little worried. I mean, as long as you're talking to someone about what's bothering you, it doesn't have to be me. I only want you to be happy."

Of course he did. The sweet bastard.

The sound of a throat clearing startled me, again. And it also startled Fred, who, upon seeing that it was my dad standing in the doorway, tried to jump to his feet and only succeeded in dumping me out of his lap.

Given my luck, landing on my tailbone was inevitable, as was the excruciating snap.

xxXxx

Yes, I broke my coccyx, proving once again that the klutziness of the Black line was enough to turn even the most innocuous of situations into reason for emergency medical attention.

However, in between Dad's furious shouting and Fred's frantic apologies, I did manage to think of a way to turn the painful turn of events to my own advantage.

"I'd like to go the hospital now," I announced, interrupting the argument and all the assorted adults who were trying their best to break it up.

Remus frowned down at me, concerned. "You'll be fine in a moment," he soothed, taking out his wand, "Just hold still."

"NO!" I shrieked, startling every person in the room (which, that afternoon, just happened to be every single inhabitant of Grimmauld as well as a few stray Order members). "Absolutely not!" I insisted firmly, aware that I probably didn't look all that authoritative while sprawled on my stomach on the couch, "Thanks, Remus, but when it comes to my arse, I'd rather leave any required procedures up to experienced professionals."

"You're being ridiculous," Tonks pointed out, clearly trying not to giggle.

I glared at my cousin, hissing, "I'm sorry, are you the one with the broken arse?"

That was when Bill lost his own battle with the beast known as hysterical laughter, and his mother promptly shuffled him out of the library, scolding the man about maturity and the need to set a better example. You'd think he would've been nicer to me, especially after I put in such a good word for him with Fleur, who was working and Gringotts and still preferred redheaded men.

Scowling after the cursebreaker, I struggled to stand (aided greatly by Dad and Fred, who had gone right back to bickering). I leaned heavily against Fred's shoulder, wincing, pouting at my godfather as I whined, "Please, Remus?"

The sandy-haired man was not moved, gently scolding, "That's not necessary. I promise to be careful." He then waved his wand in the general direction of my backside.

Even though I hadn't been entirely sure it would work, I managed to block the healing spell with a wandless, wordless shield charm of my own.

Dad let out a proud, impressed bark of laughter even while Uncle Remus bellowed, "Stella Black! You will not use underage magic in this house!"

"It's my house," I argued brattily, "Well, mine and Dad's. And it's not like the Ministry will be able to tell it was me." Turning to Fred, I urgently whispered, "Apparate. Front door. Now!"

With a crack, we were there. Despite being a bit dizzy and sick to my stomach, I shot my nervous boyfriend a wide smile and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm really fine," I told him, "Don't worry. I'll explain later."

Fred was obviously confused, but it was hardly the first time I'd asked him to blindly play along with some half-baked spur-of-the-moment plot. By the time everyone had come barreling as quietly as they possibly could into the entry hall, Fred had already committed.

"Stella has a bloody spinal injury!" he insisted fiercely, shielding me with his broad body, "If she wants to go to the hospital, then she gets to go to the hospital! Do I have to take her myself?"

Exasperated, wary of the possible scene that could very easily be made with my grandmother's horrid portrait, Remus caved. "Fine," he complained, "I'll take you to Mungo's, but there's no guarantee that the healers will even provide treatment for something like this. They generally tend to focus their efforts on magic-related problems."

"You know as well as I do that the Mundane Healing Department is in the basement and cares for exactly these sorts of non-magical injuries," I argued smartly, "I took myself there on the Knight Bus when I was nine-years-old and didn't want you to find out that I'd broken my arm jumping off the roof of our flat in Copenhagen."

"You did what?!" he and Dad gaped in tandem, earning a few shushes and pointed nods toward the evil portrait.

With a sheepish smirk, I chuckled, "Did I never tell you that story? Heh. Could've sworn I did..."

xxXxx

Accidental revelations on childhood recklessness aside, Remus did accompany me to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Mundane Healing Department. The basement ward is nowhere as exciting as the other floors but does get a fair amount of traffic, mostly from people who never mastered how to treat their own broken bones, commons colds, and other assorted non-magical infirmities. The other main condition seen in the department is pregnancy, which is handled by a team of healers who specialize in maternity and neo-natal care.

Being unable to sit while I waited to be seen gave me license to wander a bit, which was my goal from the beginning. It didn't take long to locate the maternity desk, which was managed by a painfully skinny older witch who didn't cooperate at all with my attempts at charming some information out of her or charming myself past that point.

But I refused to be discouraged, sneaking into a lounge and helping myself to a cup of coffee before joining a pair of young men in lime green healer robes. They turned out to be trainees and were far more susceptible to my flirting, quite happy and eager to answer any and all questions (especially after I allowed them to give my arse injury a cursory examination). Not having worked in the hospital for more than a few months combined, they weren't overly confident in their own abilities, but they did know quite a lot about the training process itself, which books were used and how to go about getting them, the qualifications one needed. Things like that.

The most useful piece of information came from the rather tall brunette called Augustus Pye, who hoped to be accepted to work in the Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites for his next rotation. Grinning roguishly and seemingly hypnotized by the small amount of cleavage my tight tank top revealed, he commented, "My supervisor recommended buying myself a puffskein. Their organ systems are very similar to human ones, so they're good to practice most healing spells and to test potions on. The maternity ward actually won't let their students touch any real patients until they've demonstrated competence with the puffskeins."

"Really?" I inquired curiously, "That's fascinating. It doesn't hurt them?"

Augustus shrugged, leaning in a bit closer and reporting, "Not usually, but I think the idea is that screwing up and killing a puffskein is a lot less devastating than screwing up and killing a pregnant witch or her child. It's not the most humane situation, but trial and error is sometimes a part of medicine. Lessening the impact of the errors is key."

Nodding, I commented, "Interesting. Does the maternity ward actually get a lot of patients, or do people tend to just look after themselves? I mean, it seems like it's one of the most common reasons for a visit to the Mundane Department, so does that mean that the spells are very difficult?"

The other trainee, a baby-faced blonde of average height named Mason Dunstan, answered, "The diagnostic ones aren't too bad, but most witches do like to have them performed by professionals. And most also prefer to come here to give birth, just in case of complications. Our midwives are the best."

"I just find it all so fascinating," I gushed, grinning and batting my eyelashes, laughing internally, "All of you here really do make such a big difference, helping people the way you do. I hope I qualify for the program next year."

"I'm sure you won't have any problems," Augustus helpfully supplied, turning up his own charm a few shameless notches, "I'd be happy to tutor you, if you like. And by then I'll probably be a full healer, and I can even put in a good word."

With a theatrical squeal, I beamed, "You're so nice! Thank you!"

Not to be outdone, Mason interrupted, "I can give you a tour, if you have the time. I'm actually almost done with my rotation in the Mundane Department, so I know my way around fairly well."

"That would be lovely!" I replied, taking his skinny arm when he held it out gallantly, pretending not to notice when he stuck his tongue out at Augustus behind my back.

The only wards I really needed to see were Maternity and Neo-Natal, but Mason's tour encompassed the whole of the Mundane Department. And I have to say that I did genuinely find everything to be very fascinating.

When we got to the area I was actually interested in, I listened carefully to Mason's explanations about how the pregnant patients were screened and cared for, what potions were recommended for before, during, and after the births. I saw the nursery where, I realized, I had resided briefly as a newborn. That was a bit eerie, knowing that I had been born in that very ward, but I kept my head in the game nonetheless, asking endless questions and continually broadening my knowledge base.

By the time my name was called over the intercom, I felt a quite a bit more confident in my ability to actually pull off the scheme I had in mind.

Augustus and Mason escorted me back to the waiting room. Uncle Remus was peeved at me for disappearing, especially because it had been my turn to be seen for the last twenty minutes. But whatever. I said goodbye to my companions and went in and had my tailbone healed and was able to walk out in seemingly no time at all. I made sure to contribute a few extra galleons when I paid the bill; call it a donation in appreciation of Trainee Healers Pye and Dunstan's time and expertise. They really had been quite helpful and sweet.

Remus was still a bit short with me, suspicious and annoyed because he couldn't quite figure out what my angle was.

"I have been healing your scrapes and bruises since you were a toddler," he scolded, though it came across more as a pout, "And I've also been dealing with your crazy plans. I don't know what you're up to, but I would prefer that it not go any further. Now is really not the time to be messing about."

I grinned and turned my face toward the setting sun as we stepped back onto the hot, muggy streets of London. "Can we stop by Diagon Alley?" I requested brightly, "We're already nearby, and I'd like to pick up a few new books and things."

My old godfather regarded me skeptically, challenging, "Not unless you tell me what's going on."

"I think I might like to be a healer," I reported, not entirely untruthfully, "So I thought I'd go check it out for myself. I'm sorry for making you waste the whole afternoon."

Seeming flabbergasted but hesitantly pleased, Remus floundered for a few moments before clearing his throat and declaring, "Not- Not at all, love. I'm happy you've found something you're interested in."

"You mean you're happy that I'm interested in something that's not modeling or inventing joke supplies," I teased, giggling when he blushed guiltily.

"I would've taken you to look around if you'd just said something," Remus declared, putting an arm around my shoulders and steering me toward a secluded alley.

"Not likely," I argued pointedly, "I'm never allowed out of the house unless it's to see the shrink. Safety concerns and all. So can we really go to Diagon? I have a good idea of what I want, so it shouldn't take very long."

Still looking a bit guilty, looking old and forlorn, Remus forced a small smile and decided, "You know what, you can have as much time as you like. I'm sorry you've been so cooped up lately. You and your father. Neither of you seem to take well to captivity, but we wouldn't be doing it-"

"If you didn't think it was necessary," I finished, bouncing up to peck him on the cheek, "I know, Uncle Remus. I understand. I have no desire to be assassinated by dark wizards. And besides, I love being with Dad. We've had a lot to catch up on."

He chuckled darkly and pulled me in close, apparating us away with a crack.

xxXxx

That day was a Monday. The second day of August. On my late-evening spin around Diagon, I cleaned out the selection of medical books in Flourish & Blotts and then headed over to the Magical Menagerie to pick myself a puffskein. A bit of sly chatting with the bespectacled witch in charge led me to adopt a young female named Marigold who had quite recently fallen in a family way when a new employee accidentally sorted her into a cage with the males. It was really rather lucky that I was able to find the little custard-colored ball of fluff in such a state; I didn't exactly know how one went about getting one's puffskein laid, although, apparently, it wasn't too difficult--Marigold had only been in the wrong cage for about twenty minutes, the naughty girl.

I added some pet accessories to my order, a cozy little bed, a collection of food and treats, and a thin book entitled Puffskeins and You. I didn't want Michelangelo or Mercury getting jealous of their new sister, so I also bought a self-heating lava rock for my turtle and a rather lifelike toy mouse for my owl.

Even though Marigold's long tongue and constant, happy purring were adorably distracting, I continued to the Apothecary and got a few ingredients that the twins and I had been running low on (and a few special orders to help with the welcoming feast prank we were midway through planning, mwahaha). Just for fun, I also stopped in at Gambol & Japes and purchased a pack of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Grimmauld could use the excitement (or at least excitement that didn't involve damage to my arse).

I came to regret this assessment upon arriving back there to find the whole house in an absolute uproar. "What's going on?" I demanded, grabbing Ginny as she ran through the crowded kitchen.

"It's Harry," she stated urgently, "He was attacked by dementors!"

"WHAT?!" I shrieked, causing quite a few people to jump and reach for wands before realizing that the shrill, startling noise was just me and my breakdown.

Suddenly wary, Ginny pushed her frazzled red hair away from her pale face and confirmed, "He and his cousin were attacked. They're both fine but-"

"DUMBLEDORE!!" I screamed, absolutely seething as I searched the suddenly silent room for signs of that ruddy wizard, "YOU GET YOUR WRINKLED ARSE OUT HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND, OLD MAN!!"

"Stel," Dad soothed, approaching cautiously and seeming kind of frightened by my thus-far unprecedented bout of anger, "He's not here. He's off at the Ministry trying to sort out what happened."

"I know exactly what happened!" I snarled, "That stupid, senile bastard swore that Harry would be alright, and he almost just got his bloody soul sucked out!!"

Floundering helplessly, Dad stammered, "Love, just- just relax, ok? You're not doing anyone any good getting all worked up." He sent pleading glances toward Remus and Mrs. Weasley and, apparently in a fit of desperation, even at the twins.

Despite my blinding fury, I tried to calm down. I really did. I allowed myself to be shepherded into a quieter sitting room, allowed Dad and Fred and George and Remus to take turns attempting to talk me out of my rage and dread. Nothing was working though, and I ended up screaming again with ten minutes, pacing and smashing every priceless Black heirloom and gaudy trinket I could get my hands on. I carried on until Tonks came in with a freshly brewed Calming Draught and Remus coaxed me into drinking it.

Even after a wave of ease and contentment washed over me, I still couldn't completely relax, couldn't sit still. But Dad and Remus and Tonks seemed reasonably satisfied that I was at least in a better frame of mind and, reluctantly, returned to whatever Order business they'd been attending to before my auspicious arrival.

Alone with Fred and George, I ranted and paced a bit more but only until they wrestled me onto a couch and held me down from either side.

"Come on, Stel," Fred scolded, kneading my tense shoulders, "Harry's fine." He punctuated the statement with a cheeky grin before adding, "And anyways, you promised you'd explain what that scene earlier was about."

"I can't believe you broke your arse," George chuckled, "Or that you somehow managed to turn it into an extra field trip for yourself. I'd be jealous if I weren't so intrigued. You did come back with an awful lot of packages. Not to mention that new pet."

Smiling hesitantly, squirming restlessly, I answered, "Her name is Marigold, and if I catch you two using her for bludger practice, I'll turn you both into toads."

"Great big horny toads?" George asked, waggling his ginger eyebrows.

I glanced back and forth between the absolutely serious expressions on the twins' identical faces and couldn't help laughing. "No other kind would seem appropriate," I agreed, actually starting to feel a bit better.

Both young men chuckled and then stared expectantly. I knew the curiosity had to be killing them.

Even though I'd get scolded if I was caught at it again, I magicked the door shut and soundproofed the room, taking a deep breath and declaring, "Cho's pregnant. It's Cedric's, and she's keeping it."

They both gaped at me, clearly boggled.

"She can't know I told you," I continued, "She's really freaked out about people knowing. She won't even go see a healer. That's why I had to go to the hospital. I had to see if there was any way that I could take care of her myself, and I think I can. I mean, that's what Cedric told me to do. He told me to take care of her, and I think this might be what he meant. I had a dream, and... I talked to these two trainees at the hospital. They were really nice but not the smartest blokes, so if they can be healers, then so can I. I bought all the books, and Marigold, she's to practice on. And I think I can slip into the next rotation of interns in the Maternity ward if I'm sneaky about it."

The twins continued to gape.

"Well?" I asked, nervous but hopeful, "What do you think?"

"As usual," George finally drawled, "I think you're bloody mad." He smirked brightly and added, "But if anyone's smart enough to pull off such a thing, it's you."

"With our help, of course," Fred contributed, puffing his chest out proudly.

I grinned, chuckling, "Great. Now that that's settled, I can get back to fretting about Harry."

Both twins groaned. "So much for distracting the girl," George commented, reaching around me to give his brother a smack to the head, "And don't you dare take that as an invitation to do something dirty to her while I'm in the room! It was bad enough with Sirius spending hours spouting off the play-by-play of how you broke his daughter's arse."

"Merlin," I complained, mortified at the wording alone, "He didn't."

"Sure did," Fred grumbled. He pouted at me sadly, murmuring, "Even though you managed to use it to your advantage, I'm really sorry about what happened."

Snuggling up against his shoulder, finding it hard to feel anything but ok with the Calming Draught coursing through me, I sighed, "It was an accident, love. There's nothing to be sorry for." Snickering, I added, "Besides, it's kind of a funny story."

"I once again feel the need to toast Stella's sense of humor," George mused aloud, sending a nostalgic, only slightly bitter smile my way as we shared the same memory of Cedric, "Who wants butterbeer?"

xxXxx

When I found out that Harry had been expelled and the reason why, I laughed, certain that someone was playing a very stupid joke. Surely underage magic was permissible in life or death situations. Common sense would dictate that an unprovoked dementor attack in the middle of a muggle street warranted a witch or wizard of any age the option of defending his or herself.

But back then the Ministry wasn't blessed with an abundance of common sense (or any at all, it often seemed), nor did they apparently see anything wrong with abusing their bureaucracy in the pursuit of their own silly little agendas, such as silencing Harry. They'd vindictively tried to do the same thing to me numerous times, so I can't say that I was too surprised. But still. I really would've loved to give Fudge a piece of my mind...

During the four days between when Harry was attacked and when he was rescued from his hateful relatives, I had no desire to do anything but hang around the house and complain at great length to any Order member I could corner for long enough. After I shouted Mundungus Fletcher out so thoroughly that he ended up cowering beneath a table, Dad and the twins did their best to keep me busy and distracted. We even got around to seriously tackling the Animagus lessons. George sprouted some inky black feathers on his neck toward the middle of the second day and spent the rest of the afternoon boasting quite insufferably.

Other than that, there was nothing to do but worry and answer Cho's letters. She wrote a lot, several times every day, in varying states of freak-out, mostly using paranoid code words to describe her condition. I tried to see her, but security was pretty tight; my usual ruse with the shrink wasn't working because everyone was too on edge and on guard to allow themselves to be talked into any side trips (Dr. Fairchild seemed extremely confused when I showed up at his office three times in the same day just to say hello).

The day finally came when Harry would arrive. Would be fetched, really. I wanted to be on the retrieval team but was, of course, denied. Dad was as well, so we were both rather upset. In protest, he and I staged a boycott of the house cleaning and were quickly joined by everyone who wasn't Mrs. Weasley. I felt awful about how flustered she got, so the boycott barely lasted an hour before I caved and apologized; the situation wasn't her fault, after all.

Mrs. Weasley took pity, realizing that we were all rather stressed, and she let us have the day off from cleaning anyways. I helped her with lunch and painted my toenails (and Fred's while he was napping), and then my father and twin cohorts and I spent the rest of the day once again working on our secret Animagus lessons. I was determined to catch up to George's progress, if only to get him to shut his big fat mouth.

So, while George progressed from sprouting sparse patches of feathers to actually shrinking his arms a bit, I determinedly concentrated and, with a dizzying tingling sensation, managed to force most of my body to grow a few inches of soft gold fur. The effort wiped me out for the day.

And then Fred, the bastard, had to go and show us both up. As I was sprawled on my bed, trying to catch my breath, he suddenly morphed into some sort of half-man, half-beast thing; he grew sleek red fur all over and a long bushy tail out of his backside, his whole body haltingly shrinking to maybe a third of its normal size as his face stretched out into a pointed muzzle with some white along its sides and down his throat and chest and stomach.

I was jealous but excited, giving a short whoop of triumph even though Dad shot us both a rather sulky glare.

But Fred apparently hadn't meant to do so much at once; the book warned that that could be an issue, cautioning that learning the transformation should be done in small intervals so individuals did not become overwhelmed or exhausted while their bodies were getting used to the change and to the large amount of magic involved.

So I guess it shouldn't have really been a surprise when Fred's rapid morph was rapidly followed by his passing out cold.

His brother and I rushed to his sides; I cradled his head in my lap, and George lightly slapped Fred's once more freckled cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.

Fred came around in only a few moments, restored to his natural state aside from a few spare white bristles on his chin. He grinned up at us, still kind of dazed but asking brightly, "Did I do it?"

"Not entirely," I laughed, unbelievably relieved, ignoring Dad's growl as I bent to press a kiss to Fred's forehead.

"Not unless your Animagus form really is a hideous man-beast," George contributed with a teasing smirk, "But if it is, then congratulations, mate!"

"Ha bloody ha," Fred complained, groaning as he struggled to sit up. He peered around my room, seeming to be getting his bearings.

"Don't you ever listen?" Dad scolded, all frowny and adulty as he glared like my boyfriend was something scraped from the bottom of a dragon tamer's work boot, "Not that I'd be too broken up if you went and permanently disfigured yourself, but I'm not explaining it to your mum."

Sighing heavily, I ordered, "Daddy, be nice. It was an accident."

Dad huffed, sulking, "Accident my arse. Foolish, reckless monkeying about is more like it. He's obviously not taking this seriously, Stel. Not like you are. He just wants to show off."

"Who says I'm not doing it to show off?" I argued pointedly, silencing Fred's own rebuttal with just one pointed look, "I am my father's daughter, after all."

Dad's mouth flapped open and closed a few times as the thin man tried to think of some response that didn't paint him into even more of a corner. Finally, he settled for blustering, "That's it for today. I need to check about the Order meeting, and Harry should be arriving soon."

"Ok," I agreed with yet another sigh. I started to get up to give Dad a hug and kiss goodbye, to soothe his bluster a bit, but he stormed out before I had a chance. I tried not to feel hurt by the gesture.

xxXxx

The twins and I screwed around for another half hour or so, until we thought we heard Harry's voice echoing about somewhere. Marigold, who had been exploring in my closet, chose that moment to get what I assumed was her head stuck inside one of my motorcycle boots and started squeaking frantically. I staged a rescue, of course, retrieving the fluff ball and cuddling and comforting her. Only when she was finally purring happily and snuggling down into her little bed did my best friends and I set off to see about my godbrother.

The twins and I wandered to the most likely place that Harry would be: Ron's room, which from that point on would be Harry and Ron's room. I was smiling at the thought as I raised my hand to knock on the door...

And then I heard Harry's screaming, his furious ranting about we'd all abandoned him, how he'd already proven himself time and again and was entitled to know what the hell was going on.

He was mad. I knew he'd be mad, but I was still unprepared for the way his anger made my heart hurt and my stomach twist into a sour knot. The way it brought back every miserable memory of every awful time he'd been downright sadistic to me.

I turned and tried to run only to be stopped by both twins.

"He doesn't mean it, love," Fred soothed, holding me tighter when a helpless sob bubbled past my lips.

"He does," I croaked, "And he's right. What we did to him was awful. I just... I can't go in and have him yell at me."

With a loud scoff, George declared, "The runt wouldn't dare."

"Listen to that!" I hissed, still able to hear the tirade through the door, "He's shrieking at his best friends!" With a sniffle, I pleaded, "Could you two go in and just calm him down? Please? I... I can't-"

"Of course," Fred immediately agreed.

I squeezed my boyfriend tight, murmuring, "Tell him I'm sorry."

xxXxx

Anxious, I slipped into the backyard to wait out Harry's hissy fit. It was dark already, and I probably should've stayed indoors. But the night was warm and calm and quiet, and I found the stone bench near the dried-up pond without incident. Sitting stiffly and hugging my knees, I tried to keep distracted by testing myself on how much I could remember from the medical books I'd been reading.

But that didn't last long. Barely ten minutes in, I became aware of soft footsteps crunching along toward my secluded little copse, the quick flare of a lighter briefly illuminating my dad's face just as he stepped out of sight of the house.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, held it deep, and released the plume of smoke with a ragged sigh. He was standing just far away not to notice me until I plucked the cigarette out of his long fingers and helped myself to a few puffs.

Dad didn't waste any time snatching the cigarette back, blushing a bit and scowling as he held it out of my reach. "Hell no!" he ordered sternly.

With a smirk, I let the smoke bleed from my nostrils and argued, "If I can't, then you can't."

His scowl deepened, and he gave a short nod, grinding the cherry under his boot. He seemed a little embarrassed at being caught, but I was glad. Smoking really was a nasty habit, and I'd quit over a year ago; getting Dad to do so as well made me smile, made me think of all the extra years we'd be able to spend together now that tar and nicotine weren't stealing them away.

If I could've seen into the future, I would've known not to get my hopes up.

Dad sat down beside me, curled an arm around my shoulders and tucked me tight against his side. He pressed a kiss to my temple and murmured, "What're you doing out here, love?"

"Hiding from Harry," I grumbled, snuggling under Dad's chin, "He's in a mood."

Snorting, he commented, "I heard about that. Guess he ended up with your Aunt Lily's temper. James barely ever even raised his voice if he didn't have to."

I laughed, "Lucky us."

We shared a short snigger and then lapsed back into comfortable silence. Well, comfortable until Dad had to get all guilty and declare, "I'm sorry if I was short with you earlier. That boyfriend of yours just gets on my nerves."

"Mhmm," I hummed, too cozy to argue.

Dad didn't seem to get that message, complaining, "That stunt he pulled today was completely irresponsible. Having to go to Mungo's with an Animagus injury will get him and his family in a lot of trouble."

"He's very sorry and won't do it again," I said with an impatient yawn, "Has the Order meeting started yet?"

"Soon," he answered, "I spotted Snivellus and decided I didn't want to deal with him yet."

Together, we commented, "Git."

Then there were more giggles as my dad crushed me tight against his chest. "You really are a gem," he pronounced quite proudly.

xxXxx

At breakfast the next morning, Dad made a point of sitting next to me, of glaring across the table at the twins and whispering, "Which one is Fred?"

Resigned to yet more parental pouting, I grumbled, "Left."

They locked eyes and ignored their meals in favor of a heated staring contest.

Getting exponentially more annoyed, I was seconds away from absolutely losing it on both of them when Harry arrived and chose the seat on my other side. "Morning, Stel," he chirped, already grabbing for some food of his own.

I found myself flinging my arms around his skinny form and squeezing roughly, answering, "Morning, little bother! I'm so glad you're finally here!" Pulling back and grinning into his startled face, I continued, "Don't worry about being expelled. Fudge is a fucking pushover. You need a lawyer? I have a great lawyer. Mr. B. He's gotten me off the hook a couple times already. You want his card?"

"Um," Harry gaped, "Thanks, but I think I'm ok..."

Apparently deciding to save the poor lad from my attentions, Mrs. Weasley blandly scolded, "Watch your language, Stella dear."

"Désolé," I said with a teasing smile, winking at Bill as the man blushed into his eggs.

xxXxx

A week came and went, as did Harry's hearing. No surprise that the charges didn't stick, but I still spent that whole morning so nervous that I couldn't sit still even for a second.

Things died down a bit after that, my days filling up and passing quickly with cleaning the house, participating in Animagus practice, visiting Cho, studying my healing books, and spending quality time with all my favorite relatives and friends and significant others.

Book lists and OWL results got mailed out ridiculously late that year, already toward the end of August and with only a few days to spare before school started. I wasn't home when the letters arrived, having slipped out to counsel Cho through yet another small breakdown. When I returned, both twins and Harry were noticeably perturbed, everyone else varying degrees of pleased, proud, and smug.

"I'm sure I'll regret asking," I declared as I waltzed into dinner, "But what's going on?"

"Oh, good!" Uncle Remus declared, almost knocking his chair over as he rushed to stuff the envelopes into my hands, "Open your scores, love! I'm dying to know what you got!"

Similarly eager, I tore into the OWL letter and scanned the parchment inside as fast as I could. Unable to contain my delighted grin or the little hop and squeal that slipped out, I waved the letter overhead and declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present twelve Os!"

"I knew it," George proclaimed, jumping to his feet and grabbing me into a tight hug, "Way to go, Stel!"

"Hands off," Dad growled, yanking him away by the collar.

All I could do was sigh, sharing an exasperated eye roll with Fred; as set as my dad was to hate my boyfriend, he still hadn't gotten the hang of telling the young man apart from his brother (or some days even keeping the twins straight after he'd been specifically told which was which). The confusion was occasionally amusing, but mostly just irritating.

Anyways, not even the overprotective pouting was going to ruin my good mood as the letter was handed around and I received more hugs and congratulations. Bill was in attendance (having pried himself away from Fleur and her "language lessons"), so I got to gloat to him a bit about tying his score. Dad and Uncle Remus and Mrs. Weasley and even Hermione kept gushing about how well I'd done.

With all the excitement, I forgot all about the other letter. I figured it wasn't really important, figured it was just the book list. I didn't actually get around to even opening the envelope until a few hours later, when dinner was over and the twins and I were sitting around chatting in their bedroom.

They were kind of bummed that Ron had been made a prefect, not to mention their mum's reaction to the news. As much as they harassed their brother, they really did love him. Having him made a prefect kind of put the boy on the anti-fun side of things, on the Percy side of things. They didn't want Ron to end up as uptight and ultimately misguided. But I was pretty sure that wouldn't happen; Percy had been born with the stick up his arse.

Nearly asleep with my head resting on Fred's chest, I didn't even feel his nimble fingers snatch the envelope out of my pocket.

"Stel," he rumbled, "You didn't open the other one."

I cracked one eye to see what he was talking about and then shut it again, yawning, "Go ahead."

He chuckled, and I could hear him tearing into it.

The last thing I expected was for a Head Girl badge to fall onto his stomach.

xxXxx

"Have you finally lost your freaking mind, old man?!" I shrieked, confronting Dumbledore in his office early the following morning.

Remus had, reluctantly, been talked into taking me and sighed heavily into his tea, seated and determined to stay out of the impending "discussion."

Ignoring him, I spiked the badge down onto the headmaster's desk and bellowed, "I am one of the least behaved students to ever pass through these halls! For Merlin's sake, I once brought a bottle of vodka to breakfast! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Peering over the top of his half-moon glasses with a small measure of amusement, Dumbledore tented his fingertips in front of his lips and quietly replied, "You wish me to explain the selection process?"

"That would be nice!" I snapped, falling into the other chair with an eye roll when the headmaster gestured toward it.

Still doing that twinkling not-quite-smile bit, he very calmly murmured, "It is first necessary for you to understand the duties that the Heads have here at Hogwarts. Do you know what they do?"

"Kill fun and defile its cute, fluffy corpse?" I guessed nastily.

Dumbledore chuckled and replied, "No, though I can see why you might've gotten that impression, given your fondness for mayhem."

I glared impatiently.

"Generally," the old man declared, "Enforcing rules is supposed to be up to prefects. The Head Boy and Girl oversee the prefects, but they act more as student representatives and advocates than anything else. What we look for in candidates is academic prowess, highly developed social skills, the ability to lead, and most significantly, a willingness to stand up for their classmates, whether it be defending them from each other or from, perhaps, an overzealous staff member."

With a bitter laugh, I summarized, "So you picked me because I have a big mouth? Charming, really, but I think I'll still pass."

"You were highly recommended by professors and fellow students," Dumbledore said, pulling a stack of letters out of one of his desk drawers, "All of them very impressed by your kindness and courage, not to mention your determination."

Unexpectedly and uncomfortably flattered, I rifled through the parchments and saw glowing notes of praise from McGonogall, Sprout, Hagrid, and even Cedric.

"Cedric thought I should be Head Girl?" I whispered in awe. What the hell had my friend been thinking? The tears blurring my vision prevented me from reading for myself.

"Ah, yes," muttered the headmaster, an unmistakable note of sadness in his weathered voice, "Mr. Diggory was an early choice for Head Boy, but we were having a great deal of trouble filling the other position. I called him into my office and asked who he thought would be most qualified. He sent me that letter a few days before his death, presumably after you told him that you would be returning as a seventh year."

Unable to even touch them any longer, I set the letters down.

Dumbledore picked them up again and put them away, returning to his previous focused and pensive stare. "A lot of people have a lot of faith in your big mouth, as you say," he murmured, "And I also believe the fact that you were bullied so horribly by so many of your classmates makes you the only person who can be trusted to prevent such a thing from happening to anyone else."

That did sound like something I'd be pretty good at. And Dumbledore did have a point about no one else being up to the task (obviously).

"I'll level with you, Miss Black," said the old man, "This year's Defense teacher is Ministry appointed, and I don't trust her at all, especially not around children. She is manipulative and cruel, and having student advocates who can stand up to her is very important to me." He held out the badge.

How could I do anything but take it back? "Fine," I grumbled, smudging at my moist eyes as I tucked the gold piece of metal into my pocket, "But who's the Head Boy?"

With a slightly guilty wince, Dumbledore reported, "That would be Mr. Pucey."

"Adrian Pucey?" I gaped, horrified, "Do you know how many times I've had to kick that horrid pervert in the bollocks?!" Only two thus far, but I was sure that sharing a suite with the lad would surely result in many more.

"I admit I have my reservations," the headmaster admitted, "However, like you, Mr. Pucey is an excellent student and unafraid of speaking his mind. If you're concerned about his behavior, then I would be happy to speak with him."

After giving the offer a few moments of thought, I flashed a wicked grin. "No, thank you," I said, "I'm more than capable of making Mr. Pucey behave."

xxXxx

Sitting outside with the twins later, enjoying the solitude as the sun set, I was unsure of exactly what to say to them. I'd assured both boys that there was no way I would keep the position and felt like I had betrayed them by taking it, like I had switched teams.

"It won't be so bad," George said with a shrug, standing at the edge of the small pond and chucking pebbles out into the brush, "Kind of a free pass, really."

Nodding, tightening his grip around my shoulders, Fred agreed, "We'll have someone on the inside. Like a double agent."

I sighed, not really feeling any better about the situation. "It's going to be weird," I murmured, "I'm going to have to share a suite with Pucey."

"But you'll also get to do all that other stuff Dumbledore said," my boyfriend soothed, growling a little over the Pucey thing, "Looking after everyone and mouthing off."

With a laugh, George sang, "These are a few of her favorite things."

I stared at him, completely forgetting my melancholy in favor of bewilderment. "When did you watch the Sound of Music?" I gaped.

Even though he was standing with his back to me, I could see his ears turn red. "Last summer," he admitted, "There was this muggle girl in the village-"

The rest of the explanation became unintelligible as his brother and I cackled mercilessly.

"Wankers," he grumbled, lobbing a pebble in the general direction of the crumbling stone bench upon which we sat. Then he grinned. "Watch this," he said.

And then George was gone, a large sleek raven standing in his place.

"No bloody way!" Fred cried, jumping to his feet and circling the preening bird, sulking but ultimately holding out a finger for it to perch on. He stared into his brother's beady, black-almost-blue eyes, petted his glossy, black-almost-crimson feathers and declared, "You suck."

By being the first to successfully manage the Animagus transformation, George had won a galleon off both Fred and me.

George cawed and fluffed up his neck feathers, pecked Fred's hand and then tried to soar away in a very poignant, dignified manner.

And fell flat on his beak.

xxxxxxxxxx

So Cho is pregnant, Stella is Head Girl, and George is a raven (who hasn't yet mastered how to fly). Awesomeness all around, with much more to come.

I am a review junkie in need of a fix ;)

P.S. I figured out how to work the poll feature not too long ago, so there's on on my homepage that might interest some people.