A/N: I apologize for this chapter. It isn't very good. The ending part is alright (sort of), but overall, not one of my better chapters. However, I think if I can keep my timeline moving, I might be able to work in Christmas the chapter after next (so number twenty-seven), but I'm not sure. I figure after twenty-seven, I could have one more bridge/filler chapter, then maybe the birth of Jake and Danni's child. After that, I figure I'd need … maybe five more chapters to finish the story. I'm determined to keep it under thirty-five chapters, and I think I can do it. I'm pretty positive we won't make it under thirty unless I manage to fit Christmas and Jake's birthday for both sides of the story into one chapter (and that could get extremely long). So thirty-five is the absolute max. On with the show now!

One more side note, for anyone wondering exactly how my slightly warped timeline is going. It is currently the end of October (like, the last week or so). So at the end of the chapter, it would be the first week in November.

Chapter Twenty-Five: If You Say So

Danni

Chewing nervously on my lower lip, I peer out into the hallway. In the living room I can hear the television blaring, accompanied frequently by Craig's uproarious laughter or shouts of outrage. I try to take a calming breath, but I find myself holding it until I realize what I'm doing and let the air out again.

I know I have to tell my mum. A month has passed since that Quidditch game. Jake and I don't talk about it much anymore. In fact, Jake and I don't talk about much of anything anymore. School is in full swing now, and the teachers have all seemed to forget that we do actually have other classes besides theirs; they all seem to think that their class and their class alone is the most important and that gives them the right to absolutely drown their students in homework.

So most of the time, I spend at least an hour – usually more – after school at Mrs. Parks', doing nothing but homework and studying, and by the time I finish, dinner is ready and I'm expected home after dinner, so that all leaves very little time for conversation with Jake. Jake divides his time with me between staring aimlessly in my general direction while I study and burying his nose in some Quidditch magazine he got a subscription to earlier this month to keep himself busy.

The last two weeks, Jake's taken up a new habit – nagging me about telling my mum. Every time I so much as put my pencil down to blow my nose or get a glass of water, he jumps in with a hundred different reasons why I should stop procrastinating about it and just tell her. I finally got so fed up with him today that I ended up shouting at him that he was a nosy busybody, and that if he thought honesty was so important with parents that he should go find his own mother and tell her. He just stared at me for about five seconds in shock before bursting out laughing and sticking his head back into his magazine. I left before my pride could be injured anymore.

So now I'm waiting for my mum to get home, not daring to venture out of my room until she does except for trips to the bathroom. I do my best to stay out of Craig's way, and he does his best to ignore my existence, and things run smoothly. It's just easier that way.

Hearing nothing in the house except the television and Craig's outbursts, I retreat back into my room, leaving the door open just enough to see if anyone walks down the hall on the way to the kitchen.

I lie down on the bed and stare morosely at the ceiling. I finished my homework over an hour ago – the teachers were a little more lenient today than usual. I sort of wish I hadn't let Jake get to me earlier – if I were still over there now, we'd be laughing and joking, or at least having an intelligent conversation. Instead, I'm lying on my bed, waiting for my mother to get home so I can tell her that in about seven months, she's going to be a grandmother. Oh, joy.

Just then I hear the TV in the front room mute. Craig's loud voice booms a greeting, and Mum's soft voice replies something. A second or so later the volume comes back on full blast. Their conversation must be over.

I wait two minutes before emerging from my bedroom and padding into the kitchen. Mum is sitting at our tiny excuse of a table, waiting for water to boil for tea. She looks exhausted. I stand there a few seconds, looking at her forlorn figure slumped in her chair. Once she was beautiful. She had long, sleek, shiny, curly brown hair that hung half-way down her back, which now hangs limp and dull and frizzy. She's not very old – barely forty – but all the stress of living with the time bomb that is Craig has left her looking aged and exhausted. She used to laugh and smile all the time. I don't think I've seen her truly smile since just after she got married to Craig.

After a minute or so, she looks up, sees me standing there, and beckons for me to join her at the table. I oblige, sinking into a chair across from her. She attempts a smile at me, but it comes out as more of a grimace, and she sighs wearily.

"How are you, dear?" she asks softly, not even really sounding interested. I try not to let my annoyance at that show; I shrug.

"Alright. Jake and I had a little bit of an argument today," I tell her. Her eyebrows lift in a half-hearted attempt at curiosity, but I can tell she doesn't actually care. I go on anyway, because I know I have to now. "Yeah. He … he's been on my case for awhile actually," I murmur, looking away. When I finally glance back she's looking at me in confusion.

"Who's Jake again?" she asks.

Anger flares in me faster than I thought possible. Who's Jake? I've told her about him a thousand times in the last four months. Alright, maybe not quite that often, but I have talked about him. And now she tells me that she's never been listening at all? I stand up abruptly from the table.

"You know what? Forget it," I snap, shoving my chair back angrily. She looks up in half-interested surprise at my reaction. "Why do I even try talking to you?" I ask her in disgust. "You don't care."

I'm almost to the doorway when I hear her murmur, barely audible, "Maybe if you gave me something to care about." I whirl around at her, livid with her.

"How about me? Your daughter! Remember? You used to listen to me, Mum! You used to care. Now I don't even know if I can say you love me, Mother! I need you right now, and you just sit there not even bothering to pretend to be interested in what I have to say!" I shout at her, near tears now. She stares at me, and for once I can tell she's not pretending; I have her attention now.

"And if you can't care about me for the sole fact that I'm your daughter, then maybe you should care about the fact that in seven months I'm going to be a mum, and I have no idea how to do this … and I'm scared," I say in a much lower voice, and the words come out sounding strangled. Honest shock settles into her expression, and for just a moment I feel the satisfaction of finally having her full attention for the first time since Dad died.

"What on earth are you …?" she trails off, half rising from her chair. Actual concern fills her face.

"Mum, I'm pregnant," I manage, the words coming out as more of a sob.

"You're serious?" she asks incredulously. Tremulously, I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat while tears well in my eyes. She stands and crosses the small room, closing the space between us. It surprises me to discover I'm just a tiny bit taller than she is. But that doesn't matter as she wraps her arms around me – the first time she's done so since Craig started drinking.

It's awkward at first, but she simply holds me and eventually I lean against her and wrap my arms around her in return. I don't let myself cry – Craig could walk in at any time, and he has low tolerance for tears – but I let her comfort me. I let her lead me back to the table, sit me down and stroke my hair. I let her ask me questions – about Jake, about Mrs. Parks, about school, about the baby. I answer them all, and even put in some comments unprompted. For the first time in years, we really talk.

I hang around in the kitchen, still talking with her while she cooks dinner. I feel as though some huge weight's been lifted off my chest and I can finally breathe. For the first time in years Mum really takes charge.

"We'll have to schedule you a doctor's appointment you know," she says from the stove where she's adding something to some pot of something or other. Whatever it is, it smells delicious. I can't even remember the last time she cooked something that smelled so amazing. Probably when she and Craig were dating.

"I know," I answer. In the last half hour or so, I've figured out that two or three word answers suit her best – she simply won't shut up once you get her talking.

"And I want to meet his Jake boy," she adds sternly, turning and shaking her spoon at me. I nearly laugh at the sight, but manage to refrain. "And have a good long talk with Mrs. Parks as well," she continues thoughtfully, "about the behavior of that boy of hers."

"It wasn't Jake's fault," I say automatically.

"It's just as much his fault as it is yours," Mum insists. "The two of you were very irresponsible you know," she says crossly. I can't even manage to feel ashamed for it. All I feel is this completely unreasonable joy at having my mum back – if only temporarily.

"I know," I say as gravely as I can manage. She catches something in my tone anyway and casts me a glare. I smile at her and she sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. I can tell her heart isn't in it though, and I can see the faint smile tugging at her lips.

"You said seven months?" she asks, and this time I feel a twinge of guilt. I nod reluctantly, and she gives me a confused and slightly hurt look. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asks softly.

"I was afraid," I admit, averting my eyes from hers. "And … I didn't know how you'd react," I murmur, settling for the half truth of the matter. I glance back at her to see she's looking away uncomfortably, and I can tell she caught the underlying reason behind my words.

"We don't have to tell him just yet," she says to me with a small smile that's meant to be reassuring. I just nod, not wanting to think about what Craig may or may not do when he finds out about Jake and me.

"Hey, what smells so good?" a voice says from the hall. I cringe instinctively at the voice I've heard so many times screaming at my mother over the last few years, telling her how worthless and stupid she is. Mum smiles however as Craig comes lumbering into the room, sniffing the air appreciatively.

"Dinner is what smells so good," she says. Craig grins and sidles up behind her at the stove, peering over her shoulder curiously. He wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her close. When he leans down and whispers in her ear, she smiles and reaches up to kiss him. He hugs her tight and for just a second I see a flicker of discomfort and pain flit across her face, but it's gone quickly when he loosens his grip. I saw it though, and the sight was enough to remind me that Mum really hasn't changed, and Craig never will.

"I'll be in my room," I announce, standing abruptly and leaving the room. Before I close my door I hear Craig ask,

"What's her problem?" I don't hear Mum's reply.

x.x

Ron

I glance up when I hear footsteps in the hall outside my study. A second later Keira appears in the doorway, looking uncertain about interrupting me. I set my quill down and beckon for her to come inside. She does so and closes the door softly behind her.

"What's wrong?" I ask as she perches on the old settee. She wrinkles her nose at it distastefully as she sinks down into the cushions.

"Hey now," I say mock-sternly. "Be nice to that old sofa. The two of us have been through a lot together." Keira rolls her eyes, but it got a smile out of her. I get up and walk around the desk to join her, sensing she didn't just come here for idle conversation.

"How … have you talked to Aria lately?" she asks uncertainly as I sit down beside her.

"I saw her this morning before she left for work, why?" I ask, worry suddenly striking through me. "Did something happen to her?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Keira says quickly. "I just … she never talks to us anymore, Ron. I have no idea what's going on her life. And yet, something has changed in the last month. She sits at the table – doesn't talk, but still sits with us – and she just seems happier, don't you think? Sure, she's not skipping around singing and throwing flowers or anything, but she's not … hopeless anymore. What changed, Ron?" She sounds so worried that I realize I should be taking her seriously.

"Well … isn't it a good thing if she's happier?" I ask, just a bit confused by this.

"Well, yes. But, I just wish I knew why she's suddenly so much better. I wish she'd talk to us. I feel … I feel like we're losing her," she says, and actual tears well in her eyes. I stare at her in surprise for a few seconds before recovering.

"No, Keira, we're not losing her," I assure her. "We're getting her back. Slowly. It will still be awhile until she's completely healed; I know you understand that." She nods.

"We can talk to her tonight," I say to appease her. "We'll sit her down and the three of us will have a good long talk, alright? No need to get so upset over it," I say gently, reaching over and hugging my wife comfortingly. She sighs, lets out a small laugh, and wipes at her eyes.

"I'm being so silly," she sighs, and I squeeze her shoulder.

"Not silly," I insist. "Just a good mum." She smiles at that.

"Sometimes I almost forget that she's not my daughter," she murmurs, glancing up at me somewhat apologetically. I smile back at her.

"No crime in that. Hermione would have wanted it that way," I tell her confidently. Keira nods. Hermione has always been an extremely sore subject between us, and we usually do our best to avoid discussions that involve her, but sometimes it can't be helped. Aria is a constant reminder of what Hermione and I once were – or almost were I guess. Over the years, Keira and I have reached a sort of middle ground where Hermione is involved.

"I wish I could have gotten to know her better," sighs Keira now. "We were just starting to tolerate each other," she adds with a soft smile, and I chuckle at that. It's true enough.

"I think she would have grown to like you," I murmur, kissing her gently. She smiles up at me lovingly.

"I don't know about that," she sighs sadly. "But I think we would have reached some sort of understanding of each other. She really cared about you, you know."

"Aria was her life," I answer. "Aria always came first. It never … I don't think we would have worked out," I lie. In all honesty, I still don't know how that summer would have played out if Hermione hadn't died. I hate to think I would have done something I would have regretted, but I very well could have. Hermione and I didn't always see eye-to-eye, but there was never any doubt concerning how we felt about each other – at least not on my end.

"You're a dirty liar," Keira replies, but she says it gently to let me know she means no offense by it. "You and Hermione were perfect together, and don't you dare try to deny it."

"We're perfect together," I answer, kissing her neck. She leans back against me, pressing into my chest, and sighs again.

"That's true," she concedes with a soft smile. Then she pulls away and looks back up at me, her expression serious again.

"Do you think you could have done it?" she asks, and when I open my mouth to ask what she means by that, she continues. "Do you think you could have ever just stood by and let Hermione live her life – been just her friend – despite the fact that you were in love with her?"

I puzzle over that for a minute. I have the distinct feeling this isn't about me anymore. We've come back to Aria again. "I don't know," I say slowly. "Maybe. But …" I look at her, straight in the eye, my wonderful wife, my closest friend. "I doubt it," I say honestly. A muscle in her jaw twitches slightly, but she just nods. "You're right – I was in love with her. Maybe part of me is still in love with her. But I love you, too, Keira. You have to understand that."

"Oh, I know," she says reassuringly, casting me another small smile. "Part of me is still in love with David, and he's been dead over eighteen years." David is Sean's biological father. I still wish I could have met the man, if only to tell him what a great man his son's become. Keira's told me about him a thousand times – he was a few years older than me, and they'd just gotten engaged when he was killed in the aftermath of the war. From what she's told me, he was a great man who'd loved her a lot and had been really looking forward to the birth of their son.

Sean has asked about him a couple times over the last few years, but he seemed to do it more because it was expected than because he actually wanted to know. I think he accepted a long time ago that his "first father", as he refers to him, isn't here, and I am, and that's the end of it. Besides that, it always upsets Keira to a certain degree to talk about David. It's not as bad as it was when Sean was little – back then we hardly ever discussed him, as it could send Keira spiraling into depression for weeks on end. As Sean grew older and as our relationship grew though, she got better at talking about him. It was a closure thing for her. It was the same thing Aria went through with her mum, only in the extreme. Aria was angry – furious - where Keira was just devastated.

"Do you realize how strange this is?" I ask her as something occurs to me. She glances up at me with half a grin before seeing how serious I am. Her smile slips away, and she sits up.

"What?"

"Well, think about it. You lost David, but you found me," I start, and she smiles slightly. "I lost Hermione, but I found you," I continue, kissing her softly before going on. "And now, Aria has lost Jake, but who has she found, Keira? I thought for awhile there that maybe Drew…"

"The boy can hardly hug her, let alone comfort her when she goes into one of her episodes," Keira snaps in annoyance at the mention of Aria's friend. Then her face softens, and her expression becomes sad again. "Jake was the one she always turned to. Jake knows how to handle her."

"It's instinct with him," I tell her. "He and Aria have been thick as thieves since she came to live with us. It's only natural that he feels comfortable enough with her to know how to react around her when she's like that. And if they weren't completely in love with each other, they'd still be as close as any brother and sister I ever saw – just look at Sean and Aria. Sure they fight-"

"And when they do it would be in your best interest to flee the country," Keira interrupts, and I allow a grin for the truth in that.

"-but they're always there for each other. Have you ever seen two siblings as close as those two? I mean it's like they can read each other's minds half the time. If you didn't know any better you'd say they were twins," I finish.

"It helps that they didn't even know they were related until they were twelve years old," Keira comments, and I have to agree.

"And that they were already best friends before they knew. It would have been pretty disastrous if they'd been sworn enemies or something," I put in.

Keira laughs at that, but I can't manage it. Talking about all of this has dragged up old memories of Hermione and the thought is depressing. We were just starting to feel comfortable around each other again. She had hugged me as she said good-bye. She and Aria had been planning on spending the summer with us at Harry's. And I never even had the chance to tell her how much I cared about her. Then again, maybe that's for the best.

"Hey, you alright?" asks Keira, her hand soft on my face. I look at her and try to smile. She gives me a sympathetic look. "You still miss her, huh?"

I sigh. "I'll always miss Hermione," I tell her quietly, and she winces. "But I know that I'll always have you, and that makes it all much less horrible," I whisper, kissing her gently. She smiles as she pulls back.

As she opens her mouth to reply – probably something sarcastic by the little smirk on her face – the front door opens.

"Dad? Mum?"

"Keira! Dad!"

"Sean and Aria?" Keira asks with raised eyebrows. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" she mumbles to me as she stands. I smile and follow her into the kitchen.

x.x

Aria

I can tell Dad doesn't like the idea at all. When Sean showed up just as I was getting off of work and asked if I wanted to go with the team to Greece next week, I jumped at the chance. I turned right around and walked back upstairs to ask Eva if I could get the time off. She looked at me in silence for an entire minute, scrutinizing me.

Finally she heaved this great sigh and said in a very grave voice, "I suppose." Then she smiled and told me how glad she was that I'm doing better and that she hoped I'd have a great time in Greece.

Only now of course, I have to sell Dad on the idea. Technically, he can't say no, seeing as I'm of age and if I wanted to, I could just move out and then he'd have no say in my life at all. But I'd miss having him and Keira and Henry around all the time. Besides that, the thought of moving out sort of scares me. Like … it would mean that I really do have to grow up or something. I don't know.

Keira of course took one look at my face and declared that she thought it was a great idea. Dad gave her the dirtiest look at that; it was almost funny.

"Aria, what about work?" he asks now, raising his eyebrows at me.

"I already asked Eva; she said I could have the time off," I say matter-of-factly. He sighs.

"I just don't like it," he mutters.

"Dad, c'mon. It's not like she'll be the only girl there or anything – there are women on the team you know," Sean jumps in. "And they all really like Aria. Besides that, I know Al would love to see her again," he adds with a grin at me. I roll my eyes at him. He's convinced himself that Al and I are soul mates.

"Al? Who's Al?" asks Dad a bit sharply.

"He's a friend," I say, shooting a look at Sean. "And he's Sean's Captain." Al has been a good friend in the last few weeks. I did go out and buy a cell phone, but so far I haven't found great need for it after the first week of having it. No one else I know has a phone – with the exception of my mum's parents, but I haven't spoken to them in years. Sometimes Al will call just to check up on me – if it wasn't so sweet I'd find it annoying. I'm not entirely sure Sean realizes that I've been talking to Al, however.

"Ron, I really think it would be a nice change for Aria to have a vacation," Keira puts in, and I smile at her gratefully.

"And it's only four days," Sean adds. "Besides, I bet Aria's just dying to have a go with the team again," he says with a wink. I smile at him. It was really fun last time.

"Well … I guess there's no harm," Dad mumbles reluctantly. I smile at him, and a slow smile creeps across his face. "When do you leave?" he asks.

"Tuesday morning," Sean says. "And we'll be back Friday evening or Saturday morning."

"You'll be back Friday," Dad says in a tone that leaves room for no arguments. Sean studies his serious expression before nodding slowly.

"Aria will be back Friday night," he says. "I can't speak for the rest of us. I don't command the team." Which isn't necessarily true, because I still remember how everyone shut up and listened when he spoke at the last game I attended.

"Fine. Now, are you staying for supper or not?" Keira asks, suddenly standing and taking command. Sean grins his agreement and nods eagerly, and Keira smiles before coming round the table and hugging him. "Good; I missed you."

.x.

A persistent buzzing noise wakes me from my dreamless sleep – one of the few I've gotten as of late. Groggily, I reach for the source of the disturbance – the stupid little cell phone Al made me get. I set it to vibrate so it wouldn't wake me up in the middle of the night, and yet the sound of it thrumming against the wood of my nightstand is enough wake the dead.

"What?" I snap, knowing it's Al – who else would it be?

"Someone's crabby," he comments, sounding amused.

"I was asleep," I mutter darkly.

"Well, good thing I called then, because I've been assigned "Aria duty", and I'm going to be at your house to collect you in ten minutes. Thought I'd give you a heads up in case you weren't ready. Good thing, huh?"

"What? What time is it?" I ask, shocked.

"Five … forty-two. AM," Al replies. I scramble out of bed and start reaching for clothes.

"How could I have overslept? I set my alarm for five thirty," I grumble to him as I dig through drawers for something to wear. As I look for some clean underwear, I come across the Quidditch jersey Sean got me for my birthday. I toss it into my duffle bag – which thankfully, I thought to pack last night.

"Maybe it stopped working," suggests Al. From his tone, I can almost see him shrugging nonchalantly, and I smile. I glance at the clock to see if this is true. The numbers shine out at me – 5:43.

"Nope," I reply. I go over and hit the button that will show me the alarm settings. It is set for five thirty … pm. "I set it for five thirty at night by mistake," I tell him, and he lets out an amused snort.

"That would do it," he comments.

"Okay, I'm going to go now. I have to get ready. Ten minutes?" I ask.

"Ten minutes. If you're not at the front door by then, I'm letting myself in," he threatens. I dig through my wardrobe more frantically. I can just imagine Dad's reaction to finding Al in his kitchen at five fifty in the morning.

"Right, see you," I answer, hanging up. I finally find suitable clothing and hurry to pull it on. I scrape my hair into ponytail, throw some extra clothes into my bag, grab my wand in one hand and the nuisance of a phone in the other and, looking around once more to make sure I didn't forget anything, apparate down into the kitchen. I wouldn't want to wake anyone by clomping down the stairs like a Clydesdale weighted down with all my stuff.

In the kitchen, I dig around for something I could eat for breakfast. Finally finding a box of cereal bars that Henry normally guards jealously, I take one and shove the rest back into the cupboard. He won't miss one measly bar.

I sit at the table and eat my sparse breakfast while trying to tug my shoes on one-handed. I just about have the first one on when there's a light tapping at the front door. I look up to see Al's face in the window, smiling. I grin and wave at him to come in.

"Hey," he whispers, coming over and sitting down in the chair next to me at the table. "Almost ready?"

"Yeah, just let me get my shoes on," I reply. I finish tying my shoes, cram the rest of the cereal bar into my mouth, and slip on my sweatshirt. Autumn has started to give way to something between fall and winter now so near the beginning of November. No snow has actually fallen yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if it started soon.

"Ready now?" he asks, and I smile at him.

"Yeah," I answer, grabbing my stuff. He leads the way outside, and I gently close the door behind us. Then he holds out his arm for me to take. I look at him questioningly.

"Just grab on," he says with a roll of his eyes. Shrugging, I take Al's arm and hold on. He twists around and suddenly we're in the middle of apparition. When the pressure lifts, I find myself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar grove of trees. I look up at Al curiously.

"We're meeting up with the rest of the team here, and then we're taking a ferry to the island we're staying on. They should be showing up any time-" He's cut off by the arrival of several familiar Quidditch players.

"Damn," Lecksi says when she sees us. She nudges Kyle McKeown, one of the Beaters on the team. "You were right. I was so sure we'd beat them."

"Nice to see you too," Al jokes, and they both smile at him as more people arrive. Sean nearly bowls me over when he appears just beside me, knocking me into Al, who catches me and sets me back on my feet, laughing.

"I know my good looks must make me irresistible, but really, Aria, this is getting ridiculous," he says. I grin at him, but not before I see Sean's incredulous expression at our exchange.

"What can I say, Al?" I joke back. "I can't stand up to the powers of your charm." I smile at him teasingly, but that doesn't mean I don't notice his arm still wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him. I try to will myself not to feel uncomfortable with the close contact. I look over at Sean to see him staring at me in disbelief.

x.x

Sean

I don't know what to make of the fact that Al is flirting with Aria. Well, that part I can sort of live with. A lot of guys act that way around Aria. The part I really can't believe is that Aria … for the most part, Aria seems to be flirting back. She frowns at me when she sees me staring, and I look away.

Dad commented to me after supper last week that Aria has seemed to be doing better since that last Quidditch game. It didn't even register that maybe Al had something to do with it. I see the way she looks down a bit uncomfortably at his arm still wrapped possessively around her waist, but she doesn't pull away. It's a start. Maybe she doesn't think of him as any more than a friend … yet. I have to give it a chance. I think Al would be good for her if she would let him in. And ... I think he could love her if she'd let him, if the way he's looking at her now is any indication.

x.x

Al

"You were awesome!" Aria shouts over the noise of the crowd, throwing her arms around my neck. I grin and hug her close. The last three days have been extremely … interesting if nothing else. Aria has kept mostly to herself, but I've noticed her joking with Lecksi every now and then. I think she's found a new friend in our Keeper. I'm glad for her. Lecksi is a wonderful person – she always has something to laugh about, and I think that's good for Aria.

Sean has kept a close eye on his sister, and every time I get anywhere near her, he spends half the time just staring at me, as though trying to read my mind or something. It's kind of disconcerting. I can't tell if he's trying to tell me to stay away from Aria or what. If that were the case, why wouldn't he just say something? It's weird to look over and see him just watching me. Aria doesn't seem to notice.

Now however, Sean is hugging Maya and Lecksi and congratulating them on our win. It was a close game – there was only a twenty point difference in the final score – but we won it in the end. Carrie pulled through for us exactly when we needed her with the Snitch.

Aria lets go of my neck and steps back, flushed and excited, still grinning up at me. "You were all great," she says breathlessly. "That was such an amazing game."

"I'm glad you were here to see it," I say to her, and she just grins some more. Actually, I'm just glad she's here, period. I hug her again just to be able to be close to her, and she laughs. The sound sends a thrill up my spine.

"Me too," she answers, still smiling at me. For just a second I forget about the fact that she's still trying to get over Jake. I forget what she looked like that day he showed up at the Quidditch pitch. I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her close to me, forgetting how she doesn't like it when I do that.

"Al…" she says uncomfortably, putting her hands on my chest like a barrier between us. I blink and everything comes rushing back. What am I doing?!

"You're our best fan, you know, Aria," I tell her with a grin, and she smiles nervously. I give her a quick hug and release her, and relief floods her face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," I add, and she shrugs.

"No harm, no foul," she murmurs with half a smile. I grin at her and sling an arm around her shoulders. She only stiffens slightly this time, and relaxes again a few seconds later. It's a work in progress.

x.x

Danni

It's been a week since I told Mum. She wanted me to invite Jake over for dinner. I told her she was crazy and that if she wanted to meet him so badly she could get her butt over to Mrs. Parks' house for dinner because I sure as hell was not bringing him over here. She just told me she would expect him on Thursday.

So now Jake, Mum, Craig, and I are sitting around our tiny kitchen table in a very awkward silence. Mum's pretty much exhausted all talk of Jake – he just graduated, he's working at the coffee shop, he's looking for a better job, saving money to get a place of his own, etcetera. Craig gave Jake a quick once-over when he walked in the door, glared up at him (Jake has half a head on him), and stalked into the kitchen without a word. He hasn't spoken since. I think if this pattern continues, I might invite Jake over more often.

"So, Jake, what kind of work are you interested in starting?" Mum asks now. Jake pushes his peas around uncomfortably with his fork.

"I'm not really sure," he mumbles.

"You'll need a good job," she says, and he glances up at her, his eyes flashing slightly.

"I realize that," he says calmly, but I can hear the angry undercurrent in his tone. He really has been trying lately. But, like he said, he hasn't found anything he really wants to do. He's been pulling extra shifts at the coffee shop, really trying to earn more money.

"Well, maybe at first it would just be better to find a job that pays well and that you're halfway decent at, and then later you could find something you really enjoy," Mum suggests, and I see a muscle in Jake's jaw jump angrily.

"Perhaps," he agrees stiffly. Craig looks back and forth between them with something akin to curiosity, but says nothing.

"Because I can't imagine you'd be able to pay rent on a busboy's salary," she continues, oblivious to what her goading is doing to poor Jake.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," he manages levelly.

"And you'll have other needs that will cost more money as well," adds Mum. I lay a hand on Jake's knee in hopes of calming him. He just shoves my hand away.

"Yes, well that's the whole point of looking for another job," he says. I cast a pleading look at Mum, hoping she'll stop, but she doesn't see.

"Well perhaps you should look a little harder. Instead of lying around your grandmother's house, maybe you should be out actually searching for a job in the afternoons."

Jake stares at her, anger burning in his dark eyes, but he just nods slowly. "I suppose so."

"Yes, you suppose. But you don't actually do that do you?"

"Who are you to suggest I don't?" asks Jake, his voice soft and deadly. I can see him clenching and unclenching his fists underneath the table, fighting for control. I see his wand in his pocket and notice his right hand lying mere centimeters away from it.

"I'm a mother who is worried about the well-being of my daughter when she's over at a house I used to consider safe for her to visit!" Mum says, finally losing it.

"You think she's not safe there?" Jake asks, still fighting not to lose his calm demeanor.

"Honestly? No!" Mum exclaims angrily.

"Mum," I plead, glancing at Craig to see him growing annoyed with their endless bickering.

"I'd bet she's safer over there than she is in her own bed at night," Jake whispers dangerously, and Craig's eyes snap up to his face.

"Jake," I whisper in disbelief as Craig moves his gaze to mine. I can see the anger in those pale eyes, the loathing and contempt there. I feel a sliver of fear crawl up my spine. Very carefully I look up at Jake, whose face is pale and worried now, looking very regretful of what he's just said. "What have you done?" I breathe.

"Out," Craig orders, standing up abruptly. His chair falls over with a loud bang. Jake stands up slowly, still looking calm despite the anger and fear I can feel radiating from him. Or maybe that's my own anger and fear.

"Sir, I didn't mean-"

"OUT! You will not speak to my wife in my house like that, boy. And you will not suggest that my step-daughter is not safe in her own home! What exactly are you trying to say there, boy?" Craig asks angrily, grabbing Jake by the collar and dragging him to the front door. He yanks it open and all but throws Jake onto the front walk.

"Please, sir, I really didn't mean-"

"Enough! You are not welcome here again, you understand me? And you stay away from Danielle from now on."

Jake's eyes move to my face, and I suddenly realize that the fear I see there isn't for himself. I'm sorry, he mouths as the door slams in his face.

"I thought," Craig says now, turning and glaring hatefully at me, "that I taught you not to tell lies." I back away from him down the hall, but he just follows me, fury and loathing evident in every crevice in his face.

"Craig, it wasn't Danni's fault," Mum says from the kitchen doorway, suddenly looking much more terrified than she did the last time I told "lies" to people outside our "family".

"I was sure you'd learned your lesson last time, little girl," Craig growls as he advances toward me. I back up again, only to find myself pressed against the wall.

"I did," I say softly. "I did."

"Apparently, you didn't. This time, maybe you'll remember it," he snarls, and his hand is suddenly colliding with my cheek, hard. I clench my teeth against the pain that erupts where he hit me.

"Craig, please," Mum whispers. "Please let her be."

"Shut up, woman. She needs to learn a lesson."

"She has, Craig. Just leave her alone."

Craig whirls on her. "I say she hasn't, so shut up!" he yells, shoving her. She trips over his fallen chair and lands on the floor with a small cry. She lies there for a moment before hauling herself up and sitting in her own chair at the table, clutching her wrist to her chest. She casts me an apologetic look and says nothing as Craig comes back over to me. I feel a sudden surge of hatred for both of them.

"Thanks for nothing, Mum," I spit at her, throwing her the dirtiest look I can manage. Then a large hand clamps down on my upper arm and twists painfully. I cry out in shock and pain, but the pressure doesn't lift.

"Respect your mother," Craig growls in my ear, and the fear returns tenfold. His fingers dig into my arm as he jerks me forward. A hand twists itself into my hair, forcing my face upward. He's only a little bit taller than me, but he glares down nonetheless. "You're going to learn a little lesson about telling lies now," he says, and I'm sickened at the satisfaction of having me in a vulnerable position I see in his eyes.

"You're pathetic," I snarl at him, while a part of my brain screams at me to shut my stupid mouth.

"What was that?" he asks, pulling on my hair, twisting my neck into a highly uncomfortable position. Despite this, I can't seem to tame my run-away mouth.

"You. Are. Pathetic. You have to beat up on women to feel better about yourself because you're so incompetent and lazy that you can't make anything of yourself in the real world. So you sit around drinking all day and then beat up on your wife when she gets home so you won't feel like such a loser," I tell him. The hand on my arm moves to my neck.

"Say that again, kid," he dares me, squeezing with just enough pressure to make it slightly difficult to breathe.

"You know," I say with some difficulty, "people at school are going to wonder why I have a huge bruise on my face tomorrow. And they'll probably be really curious to know why I have finger marks on my neck. And I bed they'd love to see that handprint you left on my arm."

"Oh, I don't think you'll feel up to going to school tomorrow," he assures me, and my cockiness vanishes instantly. Terror worms its way in again, making it even harder to breathe. Craig shoves me away from him suddenly, sending me sprawling onto the floor. He looms over me, and I curl into a ball instinctively, wrapping my arms around my stomach and hiding my face in my arms. He doesn't even kick me that hard – but the hard toe of his boot catches me just so between two of my ribs that pain shoots up my back instantly.

"Have any other smart-arse remarks to make now?" he taunts, digging the toe of his boot between those two ribs again, making me writhe. I raise my head to look up at him carefully. The pressure between my ribs lessens slightly as he waits. I'm about to open my mouth to tell him exactly where he should shove that boot of his when something catches my eye. From my position on the floor in the hall, I can just see the front window in the living room, curtained as it is. And in the tiny gap between the curtains, I see flashing lights. I look back up at Craig, letting him see my disgust and loathing for him.

"I hope you burn in hell," I tell him. He hauls me up from the floor and holds me by the front of my shirt, his face millimeters from mine.

"Say that again?" he whispers dangerously.

"Burn. In. Hell," I say slowly. And then I spit in his face. His fist makes a sickening crunch when it pounds against my jaw, but I can barely feel it over the triumph that erupts in my chest when the front door flies open and a half dozen men stand there in uniform, all of them pointing handguns at my stepfather.

"Freeze!" someone yells, and Craig's hands release me instantly, flying into the air. He doesn't even argue with them when they come forward and slap the handcuffs on him. It feels like a scene from a movie as they lead him away with a gun barrel nestled against his back. One of the men comes forward and crouches down in front of me – did I fall to the floor?

"Are you alright?" he asks, his hands gentle as he turns my face to see the damage. I just stare at him in surprise. He calls out to one of the others, and another man comes and gets down in front of me.

"Think she's going into shock?" the first on asks worriedly. The second one waves a hand in front of my face. I blink up at him, then look away, only to do a double take. Over his shoulder, standing just inside the door, Jake is looking around anxiously.

"Jake," I whisper, and the two men in front of me exchange confused glances. "Jake!" I say, trying to speak louder, but it hurts to raise my voice, and I don't manage much more than a normal speaking tone, which can't be heard now over what I now realize are sirens. Sirens?

Two more men lead my mother from the kitchen. She's shaking and pleading with them not to take Craig, and the pity in their eyes breaks my heart. My mother truly has become a pitiful creature.

"Miss? Miss, can you hear me?" The guys in front of me are talking again. I look up at them and nod.

"I want Jake," I tell them, and they look at each other again. I raise my uninjured arm to point to him. The first officer looks at the second one, shrugs, and gets up. He walks over to Jake, speaks to him, and seconds later he's at my side, his arms sliding around me.

"I'm here," he whispers. "Oh, Danni, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he groans, looking at my face. I feel my jaw throb painfully then, and I wince, but doing so causes a surge of pain to go through my cheek.

"No," I whisper back as best as I can, leaning against him. "You did the right thing. Thank you," I say and tears well up in my eyes then. I bury my face against him and let myself cry, finally feeling the overwhelming pain and fear. He doesn't hug me, but he kisses my neck – seeing as the side of my face he can reach is kind of damaged at the moment – to comfort me.

"We really should take her to the hospital to make sure there's no permanent damage," one of the men says, and Jake nods. He helps me stand and wraps an arm around my waist in case I suddenly keel over or something I guess.

"I can walk," I assure him, but he just shrugs and walks beside me – with his arm still wrapped protectively around me – outside. I'm surprised to see several police cars, two ambulances and even a fire truck outside. I look up at Jake questioningly, and he just smiles in a slightly strained way as he helps me to an ambulance.

"I don't need an ambulance," I mutter, but he just shakes his head and climbs in beside me. A minute or so later the doors shut and we're driving away.

x.x

Jake

I couldn't believe I said that to Danni's stepfather. Her mum was just making me so mad I couldn't think straight, and I forgot that Craig was even there until I said all that stuff about Danni not being safe. Stupid.

So as soon as I got back to Gran's, of course the first thing I did was call the police. They were quick about getting here, but obviously not quick enough. Looking at Danni's face makes me sick. What kind of man would hit his wife or daughter – even if she was just his step-daughter? That didn't give him the right to smack her around.

They decided to keep Danni overnight at the hospital, despite her extremely loud and colorful insistences that she was fine. She had a right fit about it, which I thought was kind of funny actually, but she lost in the end, though that didn't do much to stop the dark mutterings from coming out her mouth.

And then when they found out she was pregnant, they whisked her away to somewhere or other – and made me stay here – for more tests and stuff like that. So now I'm sitting in an empty hospital room, staring at my reflection in the dark window. I look … different somehow. I can't place it. I can't have changed much since the beginning of the summer. My hair is longer, hanging in my eyes and getting in the way all the time now, but other than that, nothing is noticeably different. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that there's something…

"You okay?"

I whirl around to see Danni standing in the doorway, watching me. I attempt a smile at her, but when she comes closer I can clearly see the defined bruises on her face and neck, and the smile disappears.

"I should ask you the same thing," I answer, and she shrugs, then winces at the movement.

"I have a nasty bruise on my back between two of my ribs, a very good impression of Craig's hand on my left arm, and my face keeps throbbing, but other than that, yeah, I'm great," she says with a sorry attempt at a joke. I can't smile at that either, and she sighs.

"I don't know what would have happened if not for you," she whispers, coming up to me and looking at me with tears in her eyes. "I think you saved my life."

"Don't say that," I murmur, seriously disturbed by that train of thought. Hesitantly, I slide my arms around her waist. She presses against me, resting her unbruised cheek against my chest and hugging me to her.

"I love you, Jake," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

"You wouldn't be pregnant for one," I mutter, and she lets out a small laugh, squeezing me tight.

"I might not be alive," she replies, and I kiss the top of her forehead in response.

"You really think he would have killed you?" I ask in all seriousness. She pulls back slightly and looks up into my face.

"Maybe not this time," she answers. "But I think he could have." I shudder at that and draw her close again.

"We won't have to worry about that again," I tell her, and she nods.

"I know. Thank you, Jake. My mum was so wrong about you," she tells me, and I laugh bitterly at that.

"I dunno; she kind of hit the mark on a couple there."

Danni looks up at me again, her face serious. I can tell from her expression that she doesn't appreciate the joke. "She was dead wrong," she says forcefully, reaching up and wrapping her right arm around my neck, her hand resting on the back of my head.

"If you say so," I agree to please her. I get a flicker of a smile for that.

"I do say so," she says, and I just go along with it. I nod at her. "I also say that you should kiss me," she whispers, looking at me hopefully. I grin at her.

"Okay," I say with a smile, leaning down and brushing a soft kiss against her lips. She smiles as I pull away.

"That wasn't a real kiss," she argues, still smiling. I shrug, then look up to see a nurse standing in the doorway looking annoyed that her patient isn't in bed.

"If you say so," I say again. "But I think your nurse is here to kick me out."

"No, stay here with me," she says, fear flashing through her eyes as I lead her to the bed. I glance at the nurse, and she starts toward us.

"He can stay can't he?" Danni asks, obediently lying down on the bed. "Please?" She suddenly looks much younger than seventeen, and afraid and alone. The nurse glances at me, bites her lip, and shrugs.

"I …" she looks at Danni's pleading expression and I see her resolve evaporate. "I suppose," she sighs, and Danni relaxes.

"I'll need to let my grandmother know," I tell Danni, and she nods at the telephone sitting near the bed. The nurse gives her a quick checking over before nodding at us both and leaving the room, still looking kind of wary of leaving me in here with Danni.

I call Gran to let her know Danni is safe and that she asked me to stay with her at the hospital. I have to say, Gran takes it extremely well. She doesn't argue when I say I'm staying here with Danni tonight, only tells me to wish her to get well soon and that she'll call Roberta for me to let her know I won't be into work tomorrow. That sort of surprised me (the not going into work thing I mean), but when I glanced back at Danni to see her watching me anxiously, I figured I could take a day off to spend some time with her. She's going to need me for awhile.

"So where do I get to sleep?" I ask, looking around for options. There's the window ledge, not long enough to actually sleep on, but certainly wide enough. There's a hard plastic chair and a slightly less hard armchair. There's the floor. And there's Danni's bed.

"The chair folds into a bed," that nurse says, and I jump when I see her standing in the doorway. Creepy how she does that. She comes forward to show me how the already uncomfortable armchair folds out into a tiny, even more uncomfortable-looking bed. I hunker down onto it as she goes to the door and shuts off the light, closing the door behind her.

I toss and turn for nearly ten minutes before I hear an exasperated sigh from Danni over on her roomy hospital bed.

"If you're going to do that all night, you might as well come up here and lie next to me," she grumbles. I don't wait for a second invitation. She slides over on the bed with a soft laugh. There's barely enough room for both of us, but if I lie on my side it works. Curling one arm under my head, I search awkwardly for a place to put my other arm.

Danni solves my problem for me by taking my hand and dragging it across herself until my arm is draped over her.

"There, that solves your dilemma, doesn't it?" she asks, squeezing my arm lightly. I hug her and smile.

"If you say so."

A/N: Well, it wasn't one of my better chapters, but it was certainly long enough. I might try to do Christmas next chapter. I'm not sure if I can make it work or not, but I guess I'll find out won't I? Please review!