It was blissfully warm in George's arms when I woke up to the morning light shining directly in my eyes. I winced at the harsh morning rays of the winter sun and arched my back to stretch, realizing that I had just slept more soundly on the window seat of the Ravenclaw common room than I had all term in my bed. George squirmed at my movement and gently grabbed my wrist to pull me back down. I laughed at his clumsy motions, slowed by the drug of sleep.
"We should get up," I insisted. "Go to breakfast, see what's happening."
"We don't have to," he murmured in my ear. A blush spread across my cheeks as I considered how wonderful it would be to just stay in his arms for an hour or so longer.
But, of course, the universe could never permit that.
I felt Cho's presence next to us, making the air heavy with her whimpering. Damn. If we would not go to the DA, the world would bring the troubles of DA to us. Damn damn damn.
"H-h-have you s-seen M-Mari-e-e-etta?" Cho hiccupped, eyes bloodshot from crying for far too long. George and I shook our heads, George managing to keep his arms around me as he rubbed more sleep from his eyes. "It was an awful thing Hermione did. She's got pustules all over her face, spelling out S-SNEAK." George snorted, but I elbowed him sharply in the stomach. He quickly turned it into a cough, perhaps because I accidentally knocked the wind out of him, and Cho remained completely oblivious. "S-s-so mean. Who would that?"
"Cast the…spell, or…or rat us out?" George asked around gasps of air. Cho turned her wide, watery eyes on him, too upset even to give him one of the stinkeyed death glares she was so very good at.
"I th-th-thought she was asking about an-an essay. I didn't know," she moaned, sinking against the back of an armchair, knees shaking violently. "I didn't know."
"Well," George grunted, quickly grabbing my elbows as a protective measure, "you can't beat yourself up for it, Cho. None of us saw it coming. People just stab you in the back sometimes. Think of it as a learning experience. We'll get through it. Just a minor upset."
But it wasn't, was it? I knew that look on Cho's face: the weepy eyes, the pursed lips, the quavering jaw. Cho was not this upset over merely Marietta's betrayal.
My dear friend offered George a weak, transparent smile and pushed herself up off the armchair. She straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair back, and tried the smile again, blinking rapidly to clear some of the water from her eyes (unsuccessfully). "Thank you, George."
She started quickly across the common room towards the dormitory stairs, and I immediately crawled out of George's arms to follow her. I just caught her at the foot of the stairs, taking hold of her shoulder to stop her. Cho did not startle under my touch, did not even turn around to look at me right away. She expected me to follow. She knew I understood.
When she did slowly turn to face me, she had a real smile. Not a happy smile, but a real one. One that was sad and determined and heartbreaking. One that sad everything she couldn't.
"She betrayed us, Cho. She knew what the meant. You don't have to…"
"What if it was you, Mel? I couldn't leave you alone."
"No one is going to understand, Cho. You're going to lose everyone. You're going to lose Harry. Is she worth that?"
Cho reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't know. Probably not. But she's not as bad as everyone is going to make her out to be. In the next few hours, she's going to become enemy #1 around here, and that's not right. She's not…well, You-Know-Who. She should have someone on her side. Someone needs to fight for her, show everyone that she isn't so bad, and she certainly doesn't deserve what Hermione did to her."
"Do you really think you'll be able to convince people of that?"
"Depends. What side are you on, Mel?"
Even though her wistful tone indicated that she knew my answer, her eyes widened in surprise when I did not hesitate to tell her. I should have felt bogged down by what it meant for our friendship and Cho's fragile tear ducts and the thin ice that our friendship walked on, but I wasn't. I could not find it within myself to bullshit her.
"Not yours."
Cho looked away, blinking fiercely to hold back a fresh round of tears. Her eyes landed on George, who was studying a pillowcase with furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, and she grinned. "Good. You never liked her, anyway. You shouldn't do it if it's not whole-hearted. Who knows? Maybe someone will surprise us. Maybe Harry will surprise us. I've got to at least fight for her."
"Cho," I shook my head, smiling gently at her unfounded optimism, "this isn't good-bye, you know. We're in the same house."
"I know," Cho nodded solemnly. "But it won't be the same, will it? This will always be there, the troll in the room that no one will talk about. I'll spend most of my time with her because she has no one else to spend her time with, and you won't want anything to do with her. We'll always be friends, Mel, but we may never really talk again."
"You could walk away."
Cho let out a breathy laugh, and another tear rolled its way down her cheek. She nodded over my shoulder at George, who had picked up a forgotten book, flipped to random page, turned the book sideways, turned his head sideways to match, and was now frowning at the book's contents. "Like George said, DA will get through it. It's just a minor set-back. Marietta…I don't know. She has no one right now. And a purple face."
I tipped Cho's chin up and used the sleeve of last night's robe to wipe the tears from her cheeks, feeling some trickle down my own. This was it. I had just gotten my friend back, and I was going to lose her.
"No, Cho, you're wrong. She has you."
FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGF
Students did not bother to whisper about this story; it was obvious to anything with half a brain what we were all talking about. Dumbledore was gone, a fugitive, and it was all because of us. Theories ran rampant through the halls, each one more outrageous than the last. He transfigured the Minister into a toad. He Apparated through the wards. He stepped into a coat closet and was gone when they opened the door. He set the room ablaze and used the smoky chaos to fly out the window sans broom.
Gits.
Angie led me through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room where people were spread out with the various evening activities. Although they sat with books and chessboards and homework and letters and broom care kits, there was only one subject of conversation: The new educational decree. Umbridge was our new Headmaster.
Rowena, that woman had too much power. Earlier that school year, I had been confused why Fred and George had been so keen to beat up Malfoy physically when they had their wands handy. It made perfect sense to me now. There was something satisfying about making contact with the enemy. I really wanted to roll my sleeves up and land one sold punch to her jaw just to know that she felt how much I hated her. My hand itched at the thought, but I could not scratch it. The cuts on the back from that blasted quill were still too raw. As if she could sense my thoughts, Angie examined her own scars. The words had faded already, but the congealed blood left behind enough of a mark to show the world that we had just come from an Umbridge detention. Even Professor Snape, insisting that I had to scour cauldrons for an outburst in class (which may or may not have happened…all right, it did…), could not get me out of the punishment I faced for having my name on the list of Dumbledore's Army members.
Good. I wore my wounds as proudly as battle scars.
"Just the people we were looking for," Fred announced, coming up from behind us as we headed towards the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Angie gasped as he clapped his hands down on her shoulders, casting her eyes heavenwards as she sought relief from the fright. I smiled knowingly at her reaction. I had physical reactions to George's touch, too, and I was reminded of this by a flood of warmth that filled my chest when he wrapped his arms loosely around my waist.
He nuzzled his cheek against my hair and murmured, "Can we talk to you upstairs?" for just the four of us to hear.
Angie and I shared a look, and I imagine that the concern I saw on her face was written just as plainly on my own. We nodded simultaneously, so George took my hand to lead me into the boys' dormitory. It was abandoned, of course, since it was much too early for anyone to even consider going to bed yet. George sat on what I assumed was his bed and pulled me down next to him, and Fred sat on his bed and patted the mattress for Angie, who obediently sat.
We stared across at each other for a long time, Fred and George silently communicating as Angie and I watched the twins expectantly. Angie was finally the one to have enough, and she hit Fred's arm with a solid thwack.
"What's going on? You look like someone's died."
"No, no one's died," Fred rolled his eyes. "Blimey, why are you always the alarmist?"
"I'm not an alarmist! You snuck up on us and dragged us up to your empty dormitory so you could sit and stare at each other. What am I supposed to think, Fred?"
"Whatever you think, could you think it with your trap shut for once?" he rolled his eyes. She huffed and crossed her arms, but Angie actually did fall silent. To show her discontent, however, she fixed him with her death glare. "Lovely. Now. George and I have made a decision-"
"-about our futures-"
"-and we know how bitchy you two will get if we don't fill you in-"
"-so we wanted to tell you first that we have attained the funds necessary to open our own joke shop as soon as we leave this place-"
"-and we mean the very second we leave."
I whirled on Angie and landed a solid backhand to her upper arm, wincing as the slices in my hand screamed in pain from the impact. Note to self: No more hitting. "You knew! That's what you were getting at! Arse!"
"You told me not to tell you!" she insisted. "You said you wanted to hear from them!"
"Wait," Fred interrupted, sharing a frown with his brother, "you knew? How the hell did you know?"
"I heard rumors," Angie shrugged noncommittally.
"From where?" George pushed.
"From…a…you," she caved. "I overheard Harry giving you the money last year. It was hardly discreet."
"It was very discreet!" Fred insisted, his voice going up almost an entire octave as he began to stress out. How I loved to see him squirm.
"Look, that's not the point," George interrupted. "Point is, we're doing it. We're opening the shop."
"So," I wrinkled my nose, "you pulled us up here to tell us that you want to own a joke shop after Hogwarts. This," I circled my face with my hands, "is my shocked expression. Note carefully how I disguise the shock."
"Yeah, see, it's that after Hogwarts bit," Fred winced, watching Angie's death glare carefully in case he needed to defend himself. "That may come sooner than you think."
Angie's eyes widened instantly. "Godric! You're not." She watched the boys' faces shift from wariness to pure confusion. "You are. You're leaving!"
"You're not!" I burst in panic, looking to George for affirmation. He gave me none, though. "You are! How the hell are you doing that, you dunderheads? You can't just load your trunks and waltz out!"
"No," George said evenly, well aware of how volatile this situation could become if played wrong. "We have thought about that actually, Mel. There are certain things not in our possession at the moment that we would rather like back."
"What the fu-"
"Ah-ah," Fred interrupted before Angie could swear, "the less you know, the better. She'll think you were part of it otherwise. We don't want you getting in trouble over us."
"I'm sure we're able to handle it," I rolled my eyes. George fixed me with a stern look, and I shrank back. All right, so I probably would stab our new headmaster in the eye if I had to use that quill again. I was not particularly fond of pain, and the back of my hand was especially sensitive for whatever reason. Sue me for having anger issues.
Fred took Angie's injured hand in his; when she tried to pull away out of confusion and a bit of pride, he held fast until she gave in. "Look, these marks," he ran his thumb gently over the top so as not to hurt her, "will heal. They'll fade away so it will be like nothing ever happened. The only way it scars is if you get more. When I see you next," he fixed her with a stern gaze, "I don't want to see any sign of this. Yeah?"
Angie gulped and nodded feebly, not breaking the spell with Fred even though her eyes were welling up and threatening to spill over.
So, I answered for both of us. "Yeah. We'll stay out of trouble if you do."
The boys shared a wicked grin, and Angie managed to pry her hand free. "You know that will never happen," Fred beamed at me.
George ruffled my hair, and I squirmed away, smacked his arm, and did the same to him. Fred laughed at our mini-war. "We'll behave, I promise," I laughed. George reached for my head again. "I swear!" He let his arm fall back, lunged for me, stopped it short suddenly, and pulled back. I pointed at him menacingly. "Don't touch my hair again."
"I won't," he promised. "Do one more thing for us."
"Ron and Ginny are gits. We love them as dearly as if they were our own family-"
"Yeah, such a shame they aren't," Angie rolled her eyes, now fully recovered, apparently.
"-but we fully admit that they are the dunderheads that you imagine us to be," he continued, ignoring her interruption. "Try to keep them out of trouble, as well. They have this annoying habit of following Harry around-"
"-and Harry has this annoying habit of doing dangerous things," George finished. "We'd appreciate it if Won and GinGin didn't die before seeing our shop."
"Well," Angie rolled her eyes, "since you put it so lovingly, I suppose we'll do what we can."
"That's all we ask," George nodded.
"Now that that's out of the way," Fred clapped happily, "who wants me to hand them their ass in wizard chess?"
Game on.
Happy 2012, everyone! It's back-to-school time soon (too soon…eep!), but I don't think my posting will slow down. I mean, it's already pretty slow, right? I feel bad about that, I really do. I have never been this busy before. I can't apologize enough! I really can't! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, too. I'll make up for it later.
Any more opinions about splitting the story vs. one good ol' long extravaganza are welcome! Thanks so much to those who have answered.
Next chapter: Fireworks and Farewells
