The Flip Side - Chapter Twenty – Butterbeer Goggles
"Everybody's looking at me."
"They're not. They're admiring this lovely snowfall on this perfect afternoon."
"Is the snow only falling precisely where I'm standing?"
"Well, no."
"So, everybody's looking at me."
"Oh, Abigail, they're not just looking at you! They're looking at everyone, trying to find their dates and trying to decide whether or not they've been stood up."
"So everybody in the school is looking specifically for a sixth year Slytherin girl with curly blonde hair?"
"No."
"Hence, everybody is looking at me."
"Well, yeah, they are."
"Samantha!"
"You're not fooling her, Violet."
Violet rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted in Sam's direction. "It's called 'being considerate of other people's feelings' - honestly."
"Oh, yeah," Sam smiled with feigned innocence. "That's definitely your area of expertise."
"Probably for the best," Aretha conceded. "I assume you could do with less people lying to you now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag."
"Actually, I would love for somebody to go back in time and stop any of this from ever happening," Abby brushed her hair out of her face and sneered at a Ravenclaw fifth year with whom she had just made eye contact. "But, seeing as how the odds are slim on getting my hands on a Time-Turner - if they even are real and not just more trash from the Quibbler."
"Bit stuck, I'm afraid," Sam nodded, for which she received another incredulous eye-roll from Violet.
It's your fault, if you think about it, Abby bit her lip as she watched a group of fourth years duck into Zonko's Joke Shop. You're the one who decided not to show her face yesterday. They could have had it all out of their system by now. But they've been left to their own imaginations.
In reality, it was only partly true, for Violet had been adamant that she had been given clear instructions from Narcissa Malfoy to bring Abby to Madam Pomfrey the moment anything changed with her memory (a statement that the Matron confirmed to be true). Thankfully, after a thorough examination, Madam Pomfrey was able to determine that there was no indication of any relapsing symptoms whatsoever, and she had bustled off to send an owl with the report to the Healers at St Mungo's. Silver linings or whatever.
"Ohhh, can we please go inside and warm up?" Lara whimpered, snapping Abby out of her reverie. "My fingers and toes are freezing off!"
"I'm up for a Butterbeer," Sam agreed and the group set off.
As the girls walked toward the Three Broomsticks, however, Abby spotted Raquelle Newberry and Andrew Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw, on what appeared to be a date, cross from the other direction and enter the pub. Her eyes narrowed as a memory bubbled to the surface and she stopped in her tracks. "I was going to tell you something, Abby, but I think I'll let you figure it out for yourself."
"Abby?" Aretha turned around and looked at her quizzically.
"She knew."
"What?" Violet wrinkled her nose. "Who knew what?"
"Raquelle," Abby felt her skin begin to prickle. "She knew all about Marcus and that little scrubber and she said nothing."
Sam and Violet's faces changed as they recalled the conversation in question that had taken place in Divination class. "Oh, that dirty little cow," Sam said as she turned back to look at where Raquelle had disappeared into the pub.
"Seriously?" Lara gaped at her. "How on Earth could you know that?"
"She as good as said so in class that morning," Abby snarled, as a much more familiar feeling than self-pity began to take over her brain: anger. "I imagine she wanted to get one over on me for telling her off after she stuck her nose into our conversation."
"I don't care what her reasoning was," Aretha said. "If she knew, like, knew what was going on, then that is absolute bollocks."
"Too right, it is," Sam voiced.
"Right," Abby wiped her frozen nose and started once more toward the Three Broomsticks with renewed vigor in her step, the other four girls hot on her heels. Seemingly aware of the storm about to descend on the pub, anyone in the vicinity suddenly changed their minds on wanting a Butterbeer at that particular moment.
Abby pulled the door open and marched inside, spotting her quarry immediately. "Oi! Raquelle! I want a word with you."
All eyes turned to Abby and her gang of Slytherin girls as a hush swept over the room. Raquelle took a very slow, deep breath and stood up from her seat next to Andrew, who looked very annoyed. "Yes, Abby?"
"Oh, no, don't get up," Violet sneered as she moved forward. "We wouldn't want to spoil your date or inconvenience you - especially as you didn't feel the need to inconvenience Abby with the fact that you knew Marcus was a lying, cheating bellend."
"Or that the whole nasty scene the other night could have been avoided with a simple warning," Sam finished as a flurry of whispers erupted across the room.
"Or maybe you thought that bit was funny?" Abby's blue eyes flashed coldly as she stepped up to be face-to-face with Raquelle.
The other girl took a second measured breath before responding, perhaps debating whether or not to deny the accusation. "Look, Abby," she began carefully, taking a step backward to create some space between them, only for Abby to again close the gap. "I had no idea it would kick off like that. I was annoyed with you for being rude and it was stupid of me and I'm sorry."
"Oh, do you hear that girls?" Abby almost laughed in her anger, her voice taking a poisonous tone. "She's sorry. Well, that's all right then, isn't it? No harm done."
"Not yet, anyway," Aretha folded her arms as Abby shoved Raquelle back into her seat, which brought Andrew Brocklehurst to his feet. Her cheeks quickly going flush, Raquelle popped back up into Abby's face, which evoked a chorus of jeers from the Slytherin gang.
"Right now, what's all this?" Madam Rosmerta bellowed as she emerged from the kitchen to the scene before her. "Miss Malfoy, if you are here to start trouble, I'll thank you to remove yourself from my establishment before I'm persuaded to bar you."
"Me? Start trouble?" Abby smiled with mocking sweetness, which prompted an eye roll from the landlady. "Why, Madam Rosmerta, I'm hurt. I just popped in to have a Butterbeer with my dear friend, Raquelle-"
"Come off it, Abby," Oliver Wood stood up from a table to her right, which took her by surprise; she hadn't noticed him there, such had been her focus, and she couldn't help but pull a face at the sound of his voice; it made her think of that night. "You came in here to pick a fight. Well, she's apologized. So, why don't you turn around and walk away before anything else happens."
"You can do the same, mate," Brocklehurst returned. "Unless you don't think that I can handle things here?"
"What - I didn't mean that at all," Wood replied, confused.
"I can look out for myself, thanks, the both of you," Raquelle said incredulously.
"Uh, oh, Olly-ver," Abby batted her eyelashes over-dramatically, seeing the advantage in the situation returning to her. "It doesn't look like anybody here wants you poking your nose in. But we all know you just can't stay out of my business, can you?"
"Good thing for you," Wood shot back.
"Oh, please," Abby rolled her eyes. "I don't know when you decided to become such an uninvited do-gooder, but I am not in need of a little puppy dog following me around. And since Marcus is in detention all weekend and nowhere near Hogsmeade, surprise! You can stop showing off your peacock feathers and go be somebody else's knight, yeah? Because, I don't want one, and apparently, neither does Raquelle." The telling-off was met with cackles of approving laughter from her friend group.
"A peacock and a knight? An interesting blend of metaphors, Abby," Penelope Clearwater's voice interjected, and everyone turned to look at her as she approached the group with a pair of Butterbeers, which she set down on the table. "But perhaps it's best that this situation be taken care of sooner rather than later so that we can all go back to enjoying our Valentine's Day? Let's see," she tapped her lower lip, making sure her Prefect badge was visible, and took a measured breath. "How about ten points from Slytherin for putting your hands on another student-"
"What?" Violet protested immediately. "Who do you think-"
"-and ten points from Ravenclaw for knowingly putting another student in a difficult situation," Penelope finished, raising her voice just a little and stealing a glance to where Percy Weasley was sitting near the bar. He gave her a quick supportive thumbs-up.
"Penny!" Raquelle gaped at her House-mate.
"Withholding that information was a terrible thing to do, Raquelle, no matter who it was about," Penelope replied, encouraged by Percy's feedback. "I expect better from my fellow Ravenclaws."
Raquelle's face fell as she let Penelope's words sink in, and while Violet was still huffing over the point-deduction, she and the other girls had calmed with Ravenclaw losing points as well. Abby, meanwhile, was taking great care to keep her face neutral as she processed the situation. There was a fascinating feeling forming that she assumed was a reaction to the ironic humour of how events had unfolded, but also, admittedly, a mild respect for Penelope, both for taking points from her own House in the name of fairness, and for simply standing up to her gang - something she could not recall her ever doing.
Even more strange was her complete lack of desire to retaliate. The previous two days had been so emotionally, mentally and physically draining that she had really only had enough energy to confront Raquelle and then tell off Wood. As suddenly as it had been sparked, the fire had died out.
"What, Abby? No comeback with that rapier wit of yours?" Wood said smugly.
One last flame jumped up from the embers.
"How's this for wit, Olly?" she hissed, snatching up one of Penelope's Butterbeers and pouring the warm, sticky drink cleanly over Wood's head in one smooth motion. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Wood stood dumbly with his mouth hanging open, Butterbeer dripping down his face and off the end of his nose and chin. Penelope, Raquelle, Brocklehurst and anyone else in the splash zone scrambled to avoid the spray, while the reaction of the rest of the students varied from shock to disgust to poorly hidden amusement.
Abby, noting Madam Rosmerta swiftly making her way over to make good on her promise to escort her outside, stuck her tongue out at Wood and exchanged a look with Penelope that she didn't quite know what it meant but lasted a half-second longer than was intended. Then she turned on her heel and pushed her way toward the exit with Violet, Sam, Aretha and Lara laughing behind her.
"Is she gone?"
"I don't know. I think so."
"Well, look!"
"You look!"
"Coward."
"Absolutely, I am."
"Well, so long as you know."
"I don't see you volunteering!"
"Okay, she has to be gone or we would still hear her, right?"
"This is doing my head in. On three, we'll all look, yeah? One-"
"Two-"
"Three."
Pucey, Higgs and Bletchley took a collective breath and peeked out from over-top the Three Broomsticks menus that served as their cover. They noted Madam Rosmerta shutting the pub door with furious force, and Oliver Wood combing globs of Butterbeer foam out of his hair. Raquelle Newberry was dramatically conversing with others sitting at her table.
"No sign of her," Pucey concluded.
"Oh, what a relief," Bletchly collapsed onto the table, massaging his eyes. "I am in desperate need of another spliff."
"You'll be chain-smoking them, the way you're going," Pucey told him.
"This is a nightmare," Higgs groaned. "How are we going to spend the rest of the year giving them both the swerve?"
"Quidditch with Flint - class with Abby," Bletchley shook his head. "There's no way! When they aren't banging on about each other, they'll be demanding we take sides!"
"I've known them both forever," Pucey said matter-of-factly. "It's going to be fine. We just need to let them both cool off."
"Oh, well, your lordship, since you've known them both forever, you know perfectly well that can take an absolute eternity," Higgs replied miserably, sipping his Butterbeer.
"Practice is going to be actual Hell," Bletchley said, looking more dejected than ever as he thought about all of the bruises he was going to be collecting.
"That sounds like quite the pickle, lads."
"Shit!" Bletchley started so violently that he nearly kicked Higgs, who was sitting across from him. "Where did you two come from?"
Fred and George Weasley grinned and folded their arms. "Well, funny thing, that," Fred began to explain. "See, we originally came in to annoy our Percy, but then Abby out for vengeance broke our concentration and we noticed you three so busy trying not to be noticed by her-"
"That we wondered if you would notice us sat right there the entire time-" George continued.
"Listening to your conversation-" Fred added.
"And being thoroughly entertained," George concluded.
"Right, sure, laugh it up," Bletchley was at the end of his rope. "Go ahead! And you probably want us to think you're gonna grass us up to her, yeah? Well, do it! Do it! And do one while you're at it!"
"They're not going to do anything, Bletch," Pucey replied easily, taking a sip of Butterbeer and discretely passing a wrapped-up, half-smoked spliff to his hysterical Keeper.
"Aren't we?" George raised an eyebrow at his twin.
"But it would be so funny," Fred pouted.
"Tell them what you told me, Higgsy," Pucey smiled evenly.
"Oh yeah, it was the strangest thing," Higgs began with a sly look on his face. "After everything kicked off Thursday night and everyone got sent back to their common rooms, as a Prefect, it is my duty to patrol. So, naturally, I went back to the corridor to see if I could find Abby and get her back safely." He paused for dramatic emphasis, noting the almost undetectable squirm of discomfort as both twins shifted their weight from one leg to the other.
"Couldn't find her," he continued as he licked his lips. "Not a sight nor sound of her. But who I did find was you, George - and yes, I can tell you apart," he added before either one of them could muster a clever remark. "Thought it was a bit curious that you were hanging around the exact spot she disappeared, and that you were doing so without your Fred."
"Can't ever remember seeing you two separated," Pucey eyed the twins knowingly.
"See, neither could I, Adrian," Higgs agreed. "Save for the night of our detentions. Which is why I followed you, Georgey-boy. Right to where you caught up with our Violet. And lo and behold, if that wasn't strange enough, I waited long enough after that for you to turn up, Fred. With Abby."
"Curiouser and curiouser," Pucey grinned as Bletchley's eyes widened with glee and the twins worked very hard to keep their reactions in check. "So, you see, Bletch? They won't say anything. Because it doesn't matter what card someone plays on you when your ace in the hole is Marcus bloody Flint. And regardless of the situation, I don't think he would react well to this story, do you?"
He stood up and downed the last of his drink, leaving his rhetorical question hanging heavy in the air. Then he put down his empty mug with a satisfying clunk and clapped Fred on the shoulder. "Enjoy your day, lads," he sneered as Higgs and Bletchley followed him out, pausing only to snicker at Oliver Wood trying to dig foam out of his ears with a napkin.
"Well, that backfired," George said.
"Spectacularly," Fred winced.
"Remind me of this day the next time I think about being a hero, will you?" Wood rolled his eyes as he made his way over to his teammates, his hair now stringy and stickily slicked back with Butterbeer residue.
"Can do," Fred shoved his hands into his pockets. "So long as you return the favour."
"Why?" Wood asked. "What did you do?"
"This time?" Fred laughed.
"Put it this way, Olly: he'd much rather trade you and be stuck smelling like a sticky toffee pudding," George smirked and dramatically wafted the sweet scent from Wood's hair to his nose.
"Anything I can do?" Wood offered.
"Didn't you just say something about retiring from the hero business?" Fred replied.
"Well, yeah, but it doesn't count if it's for mates," Wood corrected him. "Besides, it's a Captain's duty to stick his neck out for his team. So, spill it."
The next day was an absolute disaster; Professor Lockhart's 'brilliant' idea to make Valentine's Day special by employing a veritable army of Dwarves dressed as cherubs to deliver singing heart-o-grams caused nothing short of pure chaos throughout every single class. In fact, it became somewhat of a challenge amongst the older students to strategically schedule their words of affection so that each and every lesson was equally interrupted. What began as an exasperating distraction early in the day became increasingly more of an anticipated event as time ticked on.
Flint, naturally, could not resist the opportunity to send a poorly-structured poem to intercept Holly Hocks on her way to Care of Magical Creatures class that encouraged her to ignore anyone named Abby or Roger and 'take a chance on a real winner.' The most eventful performance, however, took place in a particularly crowded corridor where a very determined cherub chased down and tackled Harry Potter in his effort to deliver what was apparently anonymous words of admiration.
Oliver Wood seized the moment.
"We need to talk," he whispered gruffly to Abby as he pulled her away from the crowd before she had time to protest.
"Olly, what are you doing?" she demanded as they ducked into an empty classroom. "Get off of me!" she jerked her hand out of his grasp. "You had better not be looking for an apology for yesterday, because you won't get it!"
"Look, I'm sorry for grabbing you but I didn't know how else to catch you alone," Wood replied quickly, looking over his shoulder as he shut the door to only a crack; he peeked out to see if anyone had noticed them.
"Ew, so not interested," she backed away from him.
"Not like that - ugh, get over yourself," he screwed up his face in annoyance.
"Says the bloke who just kidnapped me," she shot back.
"I did not kidnap you."
"Did you plan this? Did you send that Dwarf to your own Seeker just to distract everyone?"
"Does that really sound like something I would put effort into doing?"
"Well," she frowned and folded her arms, "no. Not really."
"Exactly, thank you," he returned and rubbed his eyes, feeling the truth beginning to bubble out and mentally kicking himself for being unable to keep a secret. "It was Fred and George." What is wrong with you? Don't tell her that!
"WHAT?"
"Abby," he pleaded, "please just listen-"
Violet's voice cut through. "Abigail? Where are you?"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin." Wood growled, more to himself. This was a stupid plan, and he knew it, but the twins were masterful in their situational adaptation. When Professor Lockhart had announced his surprise over breakfast, Fred and George had immediately come up with a way to use it as a distraction. Wood had been hesitant, but the twins had already begun writing their poem right there at the table. "What else could go wrong?"
"Violet! In here!" Abby shouted toward the doorway and cast a smug look at him.
"What on Earth is going on?" Violet entered the room. "All of a sudden you weren't beside me! Your brother is causing a bit of a scene back there and - what are you doing, exactly?" she spat at Wood.
"Olly has decided to try his hand at being a psycho stalker boy," Abby replied obnoxiously.
"Please, just listen," Wood hissed in frustration. "Pucey knows you were with Fred after the fight in the library. He's threatening to tell Flint."
"Wait, what?" Abby stopped dead and stared at him. "How do you know - er - I wasn't with Fred."
"Except that you were, and Higgs followed Violet and George right to you," he countered, and felt a surge of satisfaction at her stammered slip.
"Oh, I don't believe this," Violet moaned.
"But I wasn't, I mean, nothing happened!" Abby uncharacteristically fumbled with her words. "Not like that, anyway!"
"Abby! I know - Fred told me everything," Wood cut her off, realizing that he likely had little time remaining.
"Ah." Abby's face froze and she stared at him, flicking her eyes once to where Violet stood before biting her lip. "Vi - I'm going to sort this, can you please go on ahead and cover for me if I end up tardy?"
"All right, if you're sure," Violet eyed Wood warily but did as she was told and slipped back out the door. Abby counted to five in her head.
"I didn't tell her the tunnel went to Hogsmeade," Abby lowered her voice once she felt the coast was clear. "I told her it came out elsewhere in the school. I didn't know if you were going to say anything about it, so I had to stop you."
"Oh." Wood was visibly taken aback. She actually kept it a secret. That was unexpected. "Well," he said after a moment, "cheers for that. Nice to know our supply train isn't compromised. Hopefully Pucey is as gullible as Violet."
"She's not gullible, she's a good friend. We were going to say I was with her, if anyone asked," Abby frowned. "Doesn't work so well if Terry caught the show."
"And it won't take much to give Flint an excuse to take recent events out on our Fred," Wood said as he adjusted the strap on his backpack. "Look, he can be a git, especially to you, I get it. But whatever has happened between you two? He helped you out big time and he doesn't deserve to have his face rearranged for of it." He paused before leaving the classroom, giving her an honest, genuine look. "Please, do the right thing."