I woke up to the sound of wings beating softly against my window.
Unable to ignore it, I threw the cover off my legs and darted over to the large window, where Lyra was sitting just outside, feathers damp from the rain. Around her foot was a letter.
"Come in, you," I whispered, letting my owl fly into my room and rest on my shoulder, her soft, wet wings tickling my cheek. I reached up to her foot and hastily untied the letter. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. Even if he only wrote ten words, I thought I might explode with happiness and relief to hear from Fred.
I turned the small envelope over in my hands, realizing that the seal was dirty and torn. I slipped my fingers inside and pulled out the parchment within, scanning the letter within seconds.
Freddie –
You're scaring me. I don't know what's going on, and I'm not going to push you, but please just tell me-
I read my own handwriting over and over, my brain completely empty, but also teeming with rage, hurt, and fear. My letter to Fred was clearly read – the ripped-open envelope was proof of that – but it had gone unanswered. The dozen letters I'd sent before were never returned; whoever opened this one must've done it rather angrily, judging by the state of the envelope. It seemed unlike Fred to read and return a letter without a response, but since he hadn't told me anything about what was happening at Hogwarts, I also had no reason to believe that he couldn't or wouldn't do something like this.
I laid back down on the bed, pulling my covers over my body again. I laid on my back completely still, trying to force my brain to go to sleep, but instead I reached for my wand and cast Muffliato around the room, so as not to wake Sirius and Remus. Then, I drew my knees up to my chest, rolled over onto my side, and closed my eyes, my angry, heartbroken thoughts of Fred drowned out by the wracking sobs that cascaded from my throat without warning, and without stopping.
"You've slept in rather late," Sirius remarked over coffee and the Daily Prophet in the kitchen.
"Yeah, I…didn't really want to get out of bed, I guess" I muttered, grabbing a mug from Remus and sitting down across from my cousin. My head felt like it was going to explode, and my eyes were sore and dried out from all the crying I'd been doing late at night. My chest also ached horribly; every time I tried to take a breath, a searing pain spread through my heart and ribcage, and I couldn't do it.
Even a few days later, my mind was still consumed with Fred, even though I knew that if I spent more time shut up in my room overthinking things, I'd lose my mind. Part of me was even convinced that this was some twisted form of karma; after I left him in the dark all last summer, this was the universe's way of making me feel the same hurt and fear that I made Daniel feel. Like most painful things I'd felt over the last year, I always came back to feeling like I deserved to feel this way.
"You spoken to Harry lately?" I asked, trying my best to sound casual. I knew Sirius was prone to what he called 'fireside chats,' where he'd used the fireplace to talk to Harry, Ron, and Hermione at Hogwarts.
He grimaced.
"No, Harry's made it quite clear that he doesn't want me using the fireplace to communicate," he said flatly. "Says he doesn't want me to get 'shut up in Azkaban' again. I'd like to tell him that I'm in my own personal Azkaban now."
"You know what he means, Sirius," Remus said gently. "You know Harry would feel immensely guilty if anything were to happen to you."
"Yeah, I'm going to have to agree with Potter on this one," I said, nodding in agreement. "He's just looking out for you, is all."
"Yes, him and Dumbledore and everyone else," Sirius said, the anger rising in his voice. "Shutting me up in this house, not being able to see or speak to my godson, not being able to help the Order – how could I forget that you're all simply looking out for me?"
"Sirius, I didn't- "
"Of course you didn't mean it, Cassie. You weren't thinking. Why would you be? You've spent the last month sulking over that Weasley boy that you haven't been able to see past your own nose," he snapped.
"Sirius, that's quite enough!" Remus cried, reaching out to console his partner. Sirius wouldn't have it though; he grabbed his teacup, muttered something about not feeling well, and rushed out of the kitchen and out of sight. I turned back to Remus, my cheeks burning and my eyes welling up, and tried to go back to eating my breakfast. It seemed that this morning was only going to get worse.
"You'll have to excuse him, Cass, he's just- "
"Upset he can't talk to a person he cares for? I know how he feels," I muttered, picking at the sausage and toast on my plate and swirling the coffee around in my mug. As taken aback as I was, I couldn't exactly blame Sirius; Merlin knows I'd stormed out of this kitchen in a fit of rage on many occasions.
"Yes, well…" Remus said, his voice trailing off before he tucked into his food to avoid conversation. I continued to pick at my food, my brain completely blank. I meant what I said earlier; I wanted to lay in bed the rest of the day, listen to the radio, and not move a muscle. Usually, I tried to keep myself busy or otherwise occupied when I was upset or angry or stressed out. But the kind of pain I was in right now called for complete isolation, to cut myself off from the world as I'd been cut off from Fred. It probably wouldn't help the pain, but I had to at least give it a go.
After breakfast I trudged up the stairs and threw myself under the covers once more. I turned over to switch on the radio, which crackled for a minute before playing "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" on my usual station. Thinking of that fateful day in the potions classroom with Fred, before the dancing and the maybe-almost kiss, I turned the dial rapidly to another station.
This time, an ad finished up on air and "Heaven or Las Vegas" started playing. Remembering our last night before Fred returned to Hogwarts, I switched stations again.
Finally, when I thought I'd found a safe haven, "Fade into You" by Mazzy Star filled the room. Remembering our night in Battersea Park under cover of darkness, drunk and kissing on the soft, wet grass, I turned the radio off and groaned, bringing my hands to my face to hide the tears in my bloodshot eyes from the world.
Before I could start crying again, I heard the soft beating of wings on the window once more. I trudged over to where a brown speckled owl waited just outside and took the letter from its foot.
Cass,
I know I'm probably breaking a million rules (Order, Hogwarts, and otherwise) by writing to you, but I don't feel as though I have a choice. Meet us three next Saturday at midnight, with Sirius, in the tower. Thought you might want to catch up. Things aren't going too well here. H will explain later.
H.J.G
I read the letter over and over again, trying to puzzle out who H.J.G was. I rushed out of the room and jogged up the stairs.
"SIRIUS!" I bellowed as I reached his room. "Sirius, I know you're in there. Can I have a word?"
After a beat, the door to the bedroom flew open and Sirius emerged in his robe, his eyes scanning me up and down. I forced the letter into his hand.
"Read this," I muttered. "Know anyone named H.J.G? Because I bloody hell don't."
"Hermione Jean Granger," he muttered back, scanning the words and handing the piece of parchment back to me. "She wants to have another fireside chat tonight with Ron and Harry. Seems you're invited too."
My ears perked up at that. Maybe I'd be able to get some sort of news on Fred from his brother or Harry and Hermione. My hopes weren't high, but I did have them, and I didn't expect they'd go away between now and next Saturday at midnight.
"So, all we have to do it- "
"Stick our heads in the fireplace and we'll be there in a jiff? Yes, that's precisely it," Sirius replied, checking his watch. In five minutes, we'd be using the fireplace to speak to Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. I was also completely preoccupied with how I'd bring Fred into the conversation, and how I'd conceal my reaction if they said something that broke my heart even more.
"Cass, you ready?" Sirius asked, dropping to the floor and placing his head in the fireplace. I nodded, following suit as I sat next to him on the floor, craning my head into the sooty brick fireplace. I winced as I held my breath, trying to resist the urge to hack up a lung.
"Right then, here we go!" Sirius muttered, craning his head down toward the wood, where it vanished in an instant. I nearly ripped my head back out of the fireplace, but blindly trusted Sirius and followed suit, letting my head spin and twirl in the fire while my body remained firmly on the ground.
When my head stopped spinning, I looked around wildly for Sirius, whose head was already next to me and chatting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The Gryffindor common room looked the same was ever, with the maroon walls, comfy couches, and basket full of records in the corner.
"Hello, you three!" I whispered brightly. Hermione smiled, Ron grimaced, and Harry wouldn't even look at me. This already didn't look like a fun conversation.
"Harry, you're going to have to actually speak to me and tell us what happened," Sirius whispered. "I know you don't want me using the fire, but- "
"It was Malfoy that started it," he muttered.
"Oh, bloody hell, what did my brother do this time?" I groaned. If Draco was involved, it wasn't good.
"We had Quidditch last Saturday, and Malfoy…I got knocked off my broom by a Bludger, then Draco insulted Mrs. Weasley- "
"He did WHAT?" I almost roared, but the three teens put their fingers to their lips. I rolled my eyes and leaned forward, adjusting my head in the fireplace. "What did he say?"
"Called her fat and ugly, then called Dad a useless loser," Ron chimed in, his eyes downcast.
"And then we got into it," Harry finished.
"It was really bad, but Malfoy completely deserved it," Hermione chimed in.
"Deserved what?" I asked.
The three of them exchanged looks. Hermione gulped, then took over the story.
"George lunged at Draco, and it took Angelina, Katie, and Alicia to keep Fred away from him," she said, ignoring my contorting face at the mention of Fred. "Then Malfoy said some horrid things about Harry's mum, then Harry let go of George and…well…"
"Punched Malfoy in the stomach, he did," Ron muttered, stifling a laugh. "George had a real good go at him, too, but Harry really gave it to him, punching him with the Snitch in his hand."
Sirius and I both giggled, impressed at the apparent brawling that Harry had done on Saturday. My mind, however, was still stuck on Fred. I would've given anything to see him taking down my brother is a haze of fists and flaming hair.
"I'm impressed, Potter," I said. "I'd love the chance to do that to my brother."
"Well, it doesn't all have a happy ending," Hermione continued."
"We got banned from Quidditch," Harry said. "I got banned from Quidditch for life."
"Bloody hello," I whispered in disbelief. The look of disappointment and rage on Harry's face broke my heart. Quidditch was one of his passions; he was one of the greatest Seeker in decades, and even I remembered watching him zoom past me on the pitch in pursuit of the Snitch. The speed of his flying alone nearly knocked me off my broom and away from my perch in front of the goalposts on numerous occasions.
"Harry, I'm really quite sorry to hear that," Sirius said sympathetically. "But who banned you? Who has the right, the authority?"
"Professor Umbridge," Harry said. "She's put herself in charge of all disciplinary actions. Me, George, and Fred all got lifetime bans from Quidditch. Our brooms are locked up in her office right now."
My stomach dropped. Fred got banned too.
Suddenly, my head started spinning, and I thought I felt the flames licking my neck and burning through my jumper. I shook my head fervently, trying to deny what I'd just heard.
"Harry, you said George and Fred got lifetime bans from Quidditch?" I repeated. "Both of them?"
"Er, yeah, Fred and George both got banned. George, because he hit Malfoy- "
"Which we knew he deserved, that little bastard," I muttered.
"And Fred…well, Umbridge banned him for the hell of it, I'd reckon," he said, his eyes narrowing at me. "Did he not tell you any of this?"
I shook my head again, this time more rapidly to fling the tears off my skin.
"No," I said evenly. "He hasn't told me anything. Haven't heard from him in a month and a half."
"Blimey, he really hasn't written, Cass?" Ron asked incredulously. "I'd have thought you'd be the one person he'd try to keep up with."
"Well, he's full of surprises, I guess," I snapped. "I…er, I'm going to go. Night, you all."
Cass, we can go get him-" Ron cut in.
"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you!" Hermione chimed in, trying to bring a smile to my face.
"Cass, you stay put. Ron, go find your brother," Sirius said firmly. "Cass, you're not leaving until you speak to him."
I could hear no more. As Ron dashed up from his spot on the floor in search of his brother, I pulled my head from the fireplace and fell back on the rotting wood floor. My head was spinning, and my heart was pounding, and it took everything in me not to break down crying on the floor right then and there.
Fred, banned for life from Quidditch.
I remembered watching him play Quidditch when Slytherin and Gryffindor would have matches. I remembered how he'd zoom past the goals, Beater's bat in hand, swinging it wildly to keep the Bludgers at bay. I remembered the few times he'd fly past me, ginger hair flying, robes flapping in the wind, and throwing me the occasional flirty wink. Even then, he was trying to get my attention, even when I didn't realize it. Now, it was like I didn't even exist.
Why couldn't he – no, why wouldn't he – tell me any of this? Not just this, but everything – the scars on his hand, the nearly crying in front of my brother, the letters going unanswered. Fred Weasley, who lived and died by bending and breaking the rules, couldn't find a way to tell me what was making his life hell at school? If he couldn't talk to me, if he couldn't find a way to talk to me, then what the hell were we even doing? What the hell was the point of any of this?
As I dashed toward the stairs, I pushed past Remus, who tried to ask if I was alright, but I couldn't speak. I sprinted for the door, locked it behind me, and climbed into bed in my jumper and trousers, letting the tears cascade down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe I needed to stop pushing and let him be. Maybe I needed to let go for a while.
About ten minutes later, I heard a soft knocking on my door, followed by Sirius and Remus pleading for me to come out and talk to them, but a faint buzzing in their ears probably stopped them from talking by now. Just as I'd done for the last week, I cast Muffliato around the room, pulled the covers over my head, and rocked myself to sleep with the horrible, heaving sobs that fell from my lips.
Freddie,
I'm not going to write anymore, and I'm not going to ask you to write back. I heard about your ban from Quidditch, and I wish I could've heard it from you and not from Harry. If we can't tell each other things, we can't do this anymore. Don't write back – it's not like you would, though, anyway.
C.I.M.
Fred,
I'm done writing. I'm done with you. I'm done with everything.
Cass
One by one, I threw pieces of parchment out the window, discarded letters that I'd never send. I'd been wracking my brain for the last week and a half trying to figure out what to do or say, but every time, I came to the same conclusion; I needed to let Fred go for a bit.
Of course, it broke my heart. I'd get up, go to work, come home, then lay in bed, listen to the radio, drink Ogden's, and cry, unable to think about much else except Fred. Even though I was angry with him, I was still scared and worried sick above all else. I hated myself for that; worrying and caring for someone who clearly didn't want me anymore.
Once again, I felt as though this was karma for leaving Daniel in the dark all last summer. I hurt him with my silence; now, it was my turn to hurt. Even though it probably wasn't karma at all, it was an easy explanation for whatever was happening right now, and I needed to believe something, anything, other than Fred just not loving me or trusting me anymore. I wanted to believe anything but that.
Nearly two weeks after the fireside chat, I was at work brewing Pepper-Up Potion one day when I found myself staring at the calendar on the wall. November twenty-fourth. Last year on this day, Belle, Jermaine, and I were watching Cedric fight a dragon in the first task of the tournament. On this day last year, Fred and I danced on a table to "Stayin' Alive", and I kissed him in front of all of Gryffindor House.
On that day, one year ago, I made a choice that changed my life inexplicably, and today, one year later, I made a choice that broke my own heart in a million tiny pieces. Who would've known that Fred Weasley would steal my heart and then stomp on it with his dragon-hide boots in a matter of three hundred and sixty-five days?
Suddenly, the sound of the bell ringing merrily brought me out of my head and back to earth, and in strolled Clo and Francis. The two people I needed most arriving at just the right time.
"It's like you two are my guardian angels or something," I muttered.
"I'm nobody's angel, not even yours, Malfoy," Francis said, rolling up the sleeve of their shirt and exposing the vines tattooed across their arms "You look dreadful, by the way. Are you alright?"
"Oui, Cass, you don't look like you've gotten a wink of sleep," Clo chimed in, fidgeting with the sapphire pin that held her coily hair back. "What's happening?"
I shrugged, trying to hide my feelings from the two of them and failing miserably. I looked up at their curious, concerned faces and sighed.
"I think Fred and I are done," I said simply, throwing my hands in the air as the weight of my words hung in the air around me. "Haven't heard from him in almost two months. He's had something awful happen to him at school and he couldn't even tell me. Complete radio silence. I've decided it's best to let him go for a bit."
Francis's jaw dropped. Clo's perfectly manicured hand flew to her mouth, and she strode over to the stool where I sat, her black robes over her work uniform enveloping me.
"I'm sorry, chérie," Clo whispered as she hugged me, her mint and lavender perfume making my nose tingle. "I don't even know what to say."
"Me neither," Francis breathed, running their hands through their red-blonde hair. "I'm so, so, sorry Cass. We know you loved him a lot."
"I just thought we could trust each other more than this," I said in disbelief. "After everything with Cedric and…and with other things, family things, I thought we could trust each other with the big stuff. It really hurts to know I was wrong."
"Yes, well, getting your heart broken, especially by boys, never gets easier, does it?" Clo pondered. I shrugged. Breaking up with Daniel hurt because I knew how badly I hurt him, but this hurt more because of the deep love between Fred and I – that is, the deep love I thought Fred and I shared. Nothing about us felt real or true anymore, and that stung the most.
"Cass, you know what makes me feel better after a heartbreak?" Francis asked.
"You've been dumped before, Frans?"
"Malfoy, I'm just like everybody else. Anyway, what makes me feel better is…well, getting drunk off my arse with my best friends in the world, forgetting about the person or magical creature that broke my heart in the first place. I personally think it's the universal antidote to heartbreak, and there's nothing better. What do you say?"
I shrugged. I shouldn't have agreed to another night out, and I told myself that if they asked me to come out with them again, I would politely decline.
"I really appreciate it, you two, but I really can't be out late- "
"Then, we won't be!" Clo said simply. "In fact, we won't even go out. Francis, you have a television, no? How about you come over Monday night? I know it's not a weekend, but there is something going on that I think we'd all like to see."
I cocked my brow at my friend quizzically. Francis reached into their bag and pulled out a Muggle newspaper with the headline "PRINCESS DI ON PANORAMA MONDAY" splashed beneath the fold.
"You want me to come over on a Monday night to watch Princess Diana give an interview on the telly?" I asked again, making sure I knew exactly what Clo and Francis were asking. They nodded fervently. I looked at the newspaper, up at them, then back at the paper. Surely watching television with my friends would be harmless compared to the trouble we got into last time, right?
"Alright," I said slowly, resigned to my fate. "Count me in."
"So, you're going to your friend's flat – who's a wizard- "
"Magician," I corrected Sirius. "Francis likes magician better."
"Of course, 'magician,' to watch a Muggle princess give an interview on the telly?" he asked. "Doesn't sound terribly fun, but if it'll make you feel better."
"Sirius, I'm not having another wild night on the town again, especially not if Dumbledore's going to show up every time I stay out past midnight," I countered. "I'll go straight to the flat, spend a few hours with them, then come straight back. I'm telling you two so you'll know where I am."
"Right, the two people who can't do anything if something happens to you," Sirius countered again.
"The two people who live in the same house as me should know where I am," I said simply, pulling on my leather jacket over my jumper. "Besides, if anything were to happen to me, you could alert someone. Or you could just let me fend for myself in the event of another attack."
"We just want you to be careful, Cassie, that's all," Remus said gently, appearing in the doorframe behind Sirius. "You're certain you won't be out late?"
"I'm positive. The program's on at seven, it shouldn't be more than an hour. I reckon I'll be home between nine and ten," I said, checking my watch again. "Like I said, I'll go to the flat for a few hours and then I promise you I'll be back."
The two men exchanged looks, but nodded, affirming that they believed me. I gave them each a quick hug and dashed out the door, spinning on my heel and vanishing into the air as soon as my feet hit the pavement.
I materialized in front of a flat with a maroon door.
After glancing up and down the hallway, I realized that I was in a Muggle apartment building, and that whipping out my wand right here probably wasn't the best idea. Instead, I knocked on the door lightly. I waited. Then, suddenly, the doorknob turned, and the maroon door opened slowly, beckoning me inside.
"YOU'RE HERE!" Clo exclaimed. "Finally! I think it's about to start!"
"Cass, pour yourself some Daisyroot Draught, the program's starting in five!" Francis called from the spacious living room. I nodded absentmindedly as I took in the sight of Francis's flat.
The walls were brick, except for the living room. Those walls were painted deep green and were lined with portraits of all shapes and sizes, moving and motionless alike. Francis and Clo were sprawled out on a velvet sofa of a similar green and the Persian rug that spanned the light wood floors had a beige, pink, and emerald pattern on it. In the corner was a green and gold armchair with clawed feet, beckoning me to sit on it.
Francis flicked their wand and the bottle of Daisyroot Draught began pouring golden liquid into a crystal cocktail glass, which floated gracefully into my hand a few feet away. I took a careful sip as I scuttled over to the armchair, curling up in it as the program began.
"What d'you think she's going to talk about?" Francis asked, knocking back their drink.
"Probably nothing good about prince whatsit- "
"Prince Charles?" Clo corrected me. "I am here for any and all Prince Charles slander, you better believe it."
Francis and I burst out laughing, turning our eyes back to the television as Princess Diana and the interviewer came onscreen. As I sipped my drink and did my best to listen intently, I couldn't help but agree with Francis: this was as good an antidote for heartbreak as any, and I was grateful.
I don't think Clo or Francis stopped gasping for the entire fifty-four minute interview.
I wasn't paying attention that entire time, but I heard enough to know that I did feel for Princess Diana. She seemed to be stranger in a strange land, battling with her mental health, a husband who didn't love her, and just wanting to do right by her children and be a 'queen of people's hearts, in their hearts,' rather than rule over them. I felt in this moment a strange sort of admiration for her, and that she possessed a unique kind of magic that even us witches and wizards could never truly understand.
"Alright, what shall we do now?" Clo asked. "Cass, we could let you go home. Or we could listen to music, have another drink…"
"I want a tour of this flat, Frans," I said finally, jumping up from my seat. "Care to show us around?"
Francis shrugged.
"Not sure there's terribly much to show, but alright," they said simply, leading Clo and I toward the back of the flat. Francis pushed open a door to reveal a bedroom with a large canopy bed with a velvet maroon quilt and wall-to-wall bookshelves covered with novels, textbooks, loose papers, and picture frames.
"And you said you didn't have much to show?" Clo asked jokingly. Francis rolled their eyes.
"The flat is pretty much just this room, the loo, the kitchen, and the living room," they explained. "Julius helped me buy it with some of great-aunt Livia's money. It's not much, but it's home."
"Francis?" I called, peering at a large portrait that was concealed behind velvet curtains. "What's this?"
"Ah! That, my friend, is the Gray family tree," they explained, pushing the curtains back to reveal a green and gray print with vines, similar to Francis's tattoos, connecting tiny portraits of people, like the Black family tree. "While I do despise my immediate family, I do have some relatives on here that weren't so bad. Like Polonius – Dorian – Gray. From what I've heard, he wasn't so bad."
"Where's your family, Frans?" Clo asked, admiring the tree.
"There," Francis pointed at the bottom right. "My father, Claudius, and my mother Gertrude. I know, just like the Shakespeare characters, but we're all named for someone the Bard wrote about. Besides, old Claud wasn't a usurper or anything. He was actually my dad."
"What happened to him?" I asked.
"He died when I was fourteen," they explained. "It wasn't a jealous, lustful brother that killed him, but his smoking habit. Apparently, wizards are not impervious to lung cancer. He and my mother were third cousins – she's got four sisters, Cressida, Katherine, Regan, and Cordelia – and my dad had four brothers – Edmund, Hector, Laurence, and Edgar. Cordelia and Edmund are Julius's mum and dad."
As Francis was delving into their family history, my eyes traveled toward a camera that sat on one of the painted bookshelves. I held it up to my eye, admiring it, then whipped around to take a picture of my friends pouring over the portrait.
"SMILE!" I bellowed.
Francis and Clo whipped around, the looks of surprise on their faces palpable. All of a sudden, the camera spat out a piece of film, which fluttered to the floor. I bent down to pick it up and saw an image of my two friends developing on the little white card.
"These photos don't move, Frans," I pondered, admiring the photo in my hands. "You got a magic camera anywhere?"
"No! I've just got this one. Besides, I'm with Clo; I like to fill my home with things I like, not things wizards think I should like," they explained before snatching the camera from my hands. "Besides, who says I don't' want to have a little Muggle photoshoot with my friends?"
In an instant, Francis chased Clo and I back out to the living room, camera in hand, snapping photos wildly, the film flying out of the camera in Francis's wake. They skidded across the floor in their wool socks, stopping in front of their record player. They dropped to the ground, flipped rapidly through their massive record collection, then grabbed Duran Duran's self-titled, flipping the disc over in their hands and placing in on the turntable. The needle dropped and the opening track began, the sound of cameras clicking filling my ears.
"See them walking hand in hand
Across the bridge at midnight
Heads turning as the lights flashing out
Are so bright"
I only had one glass of Daisyroot Draught tonight, but my cheeks were flushed and the world around me was spinning and glittering with the candlelight of the flat and Francis's camera flashing.
Clo and I were dancing around the living room and singing one minute and fell back on the couch laughing uncontrollably the next. When we both sat up, we grabbed hold of one another, striking wild poses on the couch and making faces like the models on Clo's bedroom walls.
"And walk right out to the four-line track
There's a camera rolling on her back
On her back
And I sense a rhythm humming in a frenzy
All the way down her spine"
"GIRLS ON FILM!" we all sang at the top of our lungs. "GIRLS ON FILM!"
As the camera continued to snap and the melody of the song continued to spin on the record player, Clo and I continued posing on the couch, leaning on each other's shoulders and tangling our arms around one another. Francis snapped a few more times, then waited for the little pieces of film to print out, a grin crossing their face.
"What should I write on the bottom?" they asked, pushing their hair from their eyes to see better. "That's what the little white space is for."
"Oh, I dunno," I sighed as the song faded out. "Let it develop and we'll see how it looks. Then we'll decide."
As Clo and I leaned back on the couch, Francis came to join us slouching in between us and stretching out, their long, lean arms reaching around to hug Clo and I. As I leaned against Francis's arm and finally had a chance to gather my thoughts, I remembered that Fred and I didn't have a single photograph together.
I didn't have a single picture of him, anywhere in my room. I only had two or three letters and nothing else. I had nothing to remember him by.
"Cass? Hey, Cass, what's wrong?" Clo asked. Francis got up to change the music and my head drooped down onto the couch cushions. I looked up at my friend through my teary lashes.
"Nothing," I said casually. "Nothing…I don't really have any pictures of my friends. I never had a magic camera at school, or even a Muggle one. One boy did, he was always taking photos of Harry Potter with it, but I never had one. I don't have any photos of my friends from Hogwarts. I don't even have any pictures of Fred."
Clo and Francis turned to one another, exchanging looks. Francis gave me a sympathetic smile and came back to the couch, pushing me to sit up so I could rest my head on their shoulder. In the corner, "Linger" by The Cranberries played softly and the orange glow of the candles illuminated Francis's pale cheekbones and Clo's almond-toned face.
It was all such a perfect scene, being there with my friends. Francis did ask me that, should I ever make another trip to Hell and back, that they be invited along. This time, I wouldn't leave them behind. As always, Clo and Francis made everything feel alright and normal, and I would always be grateful for them, in good times and bad.
"Frans, gimme that photo," I whispered, wiping my eyes. Francis fished the tiny piece of film from the pocket of their blouse and handed it to me. I admired the image closely; Clo and I with our backs almost toward one another, tilting our heads back so that they almost touched. Clo was laughing, her mouth open wide, and my eyes were closed, a serene smile etched across my face. I pulled out my wand and flicked it over the white space, handing the photograph back to Francis.
"Not bad, Malfoy," they said. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
Clo snatched the photo from Francis and admired it as well, her thick, dark brows knitting together. She grinned.
"I love it," she whispered, handing it back to me. I read over the words once again, words beneath the smiling photo of my best friend and I acting like normal teenagers, our other friend behind the camera, capturing it for us all to remember forever.
"GIRLS ON FILM. NOV. 1995."