Chapter 1
"Thank you for coming," Hermione greets me at the door of the Hog's Head, ushering me out of the snow.
I smile and tuck the mug between my body and arm to pull off my gloves and shove them in the pocket of my jacket. "Wouldn't miss it," I say honestly. The room is warm, dark, and crowded—only illuminated by the bright snow shining through the windows.
Harry and Ron sit near the left wall, whispering amongst themselves and fidgeting. The others scatter the right side of the room, some sitting on boxes, others standing in the back. I recognize the twins, and a few others of my year; Elise and Rebecca giggle behind the twins, sitting on the other side of their table.
Fred and George face Harry and Ron, talking, laughing, smiling.
A platonic half-smile lifts my lips as I walk around them and slide onto the bench next to Elise.
Her blonde hair is wild, curly, and drops down to her shoulders, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and blue eyes. It swishes against her black puffer jacket, a contrast to her fair skin.
Rebecca is quite the opposite—long, silky dark hair and almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones and russet skin.
Quite the trio.
Elise bumps shoulders with me, and points to the boys in front of us. Twins, she mouths, eyebrows wiggling.
Rebecca nods in a greeting and her eyes flicker to the mug in my hands. "Whatcha got there?" she whispers.
"The good stuff," I whisper back and slide it over to her. It's mulled wine with orange slices, cinnamon, brandy, and other spices that make the cold weather easier.
She takes a long sip and slides it to Elise, who just slides it back to me. One of us has to be responsible, she's said before.
I wrap my fingers around the mug and take a sip, humming when the warmth hits my stomach and begins to spread. "A good way to keep warm," I whisper a little louder in sync with the growing restlessness of the crowd.
Rebecca gives an agreeable look.
Elise rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. "You're incorrigible."
"Equitable," I quip, and take another sip. The warmth seeps into my arms, working through to my fingertips in tandem with the Hog's Head heating system. I shrug off my jacket and tie it around my waist, then push the shirt sleeves to my mid forearm.
The crowd's whispers grow to full on conversations while waiting for the meeting to start.
I cross my arms behind the mug, trapping it against my chest, and think about the drawing I'm working on. It's almost finished—just needs a little more shading and I'll be onto the next piece for my midterm and final portfolio.
Professor Burbage made it clear that another picture of wildlife won't suffice—I have to venture out of my comfort zone. Little does she know my comfort zone also includes nudity, and since our midterm has no specifications, I may turn in something I've already done. Maybe the one I finished back in September.
"Thank you all for coming," Hermione's voice quiets the crowd and I tune in.
The wine is enough to feel a buzz by the end of the meeting. I can never pass up a good Bordeaux, and I know one when I smell it, taste it. It sits in my gloved fingers as we return to the Hog's Head main building.
"Are you listening?" Elise bumps my shoulder.
I'm not. So I shake my head and tilt the rest of the contents into my mouth. Between Rebecca and I, the alcohol doesn't last long.
She groans as Rebecca giggles, and swipes the empty mug. A scowl reaches her lips as she jiggles the mug and realizes why we're all giggles and flushed cheeks. "Come on, guys. That meeting was serious. Did you even pay attention?"
I sigh and look up to the heavy clouds. Leave it to Elise to ruin the buzz. She's right, of course, but that doesn't mean I like it. "Of course we did—I did," I amend as Rebecca stumbles over her own feet. Elise catches her by the arm. "It's not my fault she drank on an empty stomach."
"You gave alcohol to an alcoholic," she admonishes.
I wrap an arm around her neck. "We're teenagers, Lis. We're all alcoholics. You're just upset she'll try to kiss you again."
She cringes away when I press my lips to her cheek. "Stop it," she whines. "How am I supposed to find a boyfriend when you guys do stuff like this?"
Hearing the true distress in her voice, I pull back. When girls took over Rebecca's life, boys took over Elise's. My priorities are still knee deep in paint. Oliver Wood proved himself a viable distraction for a year, but him and his influence are gone. Can't say that I miss him like I thought I would. Not like I miss the things he did to me.
"Sorry," I mutter and pull away with something wholly different on my mind. Fortunately I can blame my flushed cheeks on the alcohol.
I step too far away and my shoulder collides with an arm, attached to a person just trying to brush past. "Oi," parts the thin lips of a Weasley twin. I can't tell which one—they're both too similar.
"Sorry," I say again, albeit for a different reason, and try to back away. The alcohol steals my coordination and drops me into the snow. I didn't drink that much, but what I had seems enough.
"Dear god, Sienna," Elise mutters. Her arms dip beneath my arm pits and she propels me up with her weight. "You fucking drunkard. Sorry, guys," she says to the twins.
"I'm not," I argue and point a finger at a smiling Rebecca. "She drank most of it. Plus, it was just wine."
Her throat hums like she doesn't believe me.
"No worries," says a twin.
The other speaks. "You'd better get them back—"
"—before McGonagall catches you."
"Or even worse—"
"—Umbridge."
The name hits my ears and my face flushes sober. "That twat of a woman," I mutter. "Just her name is enough to ruin a good buzz. Let's grab a cuppa to go."
An unfamiliarly heavy arm slings across my shoulders. A breath touches my ear. "We'll escort you, love. Seems this one has her hands full." He flicks an ivory finger to Elise holding onto Rebecca's arm as the lightweight jumps in the snow.
A hand falls atop my head. "Go on." The second twin nods to Elise. "We've got this one."
Elise's pale skin flushes and she nods. "Thanks, you two." I see the murder in her eyes she directs toward me and can't help but feel sorry. It really hadn't been that much, and Rebecca should sober on the way back to the castle. But she's a petit thing that doesn't eat much.
Elise is right. I should be more careful.
"We're not that scary, are we Fred?" The twin hanging on me glides the back of his fingers across my cheeks.
The hand atop my head ruffles my hair. "I don't think so, Georgie."
I press my hands against my cheeks, taking over George's job of wiping away my tears. Stupid alcohol.
"Hey." Fred removes his hand. "You're Sienna, right? Wood's girl."
The arm around my shoulders feels lighter. "Yes," I say, "and no. Oliver and I broke up some months ago. Before term." George's arm guides me to follow Fred to Madam Puddifoot's.
I should feel elated to be conversing with the infamous Weasley twins, but I can't sense anything past the churn in my stomach.
"You don't seem too distraught over losing the all-time greatest quidditch captain," George says with a light air of sarcasm.
Fred snorts as he pushes open the nauseatingly pink doors to the lovers' cavern. "Angelina's more broken up than she is." He jabs a finger in my direction.
"I miss some things," I admit, thinking of the way his fingers would touch here, his lips would kiss there. "But it ran its course. It was fun while it lasted. Did you two want to stay or?" I grimace at the lace and bows.
The stench of body odor thickens the air, and the conversations, the voices leave no room for a breath of silence.
"Have you gone mad?" Fred asks.
"No chance in hell," George agrees. "Grab what you need." His arm slides from my shoulders and I find myself missing the heaviness, security, physical contact.
"And let's get the bloody hell out of here."
I give the hostess a to-go order and press my back against the wall, turning over the empty traveling mug in my hands. Whatever warmth it once provided is long gone.
My fingers itch to move and I run them through my hair, but it's not enough. My thumb flicks the lid open; the palm of my other hand presses it shut.
My throat tightens, shortening the breath to my lungs. My ears ring with the never-ending flow of voices, loud and all-encompassing. My tongue scrapes against my teeth.
I tell myself to breathe, but I can't.
I tell myself to leave, but where would I go?
A curse parts my lips and I fling the door open. I can't be in there. I can't breathe. I can't think. A tuft of smoke forms around each breath. I dart behind the wall of the tea shop and sink to my knees. The cold stone presses into my back and I wish I could feel it beneath my clothes. I want to feel anything other than this.
I stand, because I can't sit still. My leg flies and I kick over a trash can before I can think. It's either that or fail to put my hand through a stone wall.
At least now I'm sober.
Snow-clad stone forms a halo around the twin's face. Lion's mane red is hidden beneath a woven burgundy beanie. Freckles dot across his cheeks and nose. Green eyes with threads of brown stare down at me.
His fingers are cold and rough as they press the insides of my wrists, massaging circles. His lips move but the ringing in my ears muffles his voice. Nausea churns my stomach, sits dangerously close to my throat.
He traces patterns—first a circle, then a triangle, a star, a heart.
His voice breaks the silencing barrier hovering around my ears. "—with me. Inhale, exhale. Let me know when you hear my voice. Breathe with me. Inhale, exhale. Let—"
"I hear you." My voice shakes with the breath that was trapped in my chest. "I hear you," I say again.
A warm smile lifts his lips. "Good. Now breathe with me."
It takes a few tries, but I match his breath inhale for exhale until I can see the tuft of smoke before my lips, I can feel his hands around my wrists, the ringing in my ears comes to a stop.
"Thank you," I say when I can think again. "How did you—" I don't know how to ask what I mean, but he understands.
He shrugs; lets his hands fall away from my skin. I pull my arms around my torso so I don't pull him back to me. "I have five siblings." He doesn't elaborate and I don't ask.
"Oi," the second twin calls. He stands at the edge of the stone wall, holding a paper mug and bag. His lips purse to whistle. "I'm not about to catch a cold because of you lovebirds. Let's get a move on."
"Coming, Fred," George calls back. He winks at me then nods toward his brother.
George. It's George.
I try to catch a glimpse of something that separates them. Anything that will help discern between the two later, but George is already halfway toward his brother, and Fred is too far away. Next time.
Next time.
I jog to catch up and take the order from Fred.
"All good?" he asks as though he didn't see my mental breakdown. Maybe he didn't.
My eyes flicker to George, who continues to look at the shops we pass. A breeze makes me think it's the cold that has his cheeks flushed, nose red. "Yeah," I smile. "Thanks."
"Alright. I just saw the girls; they're waiting for us back at the pub. Care to join us?" Fred directs the question toward Sienna, likely already knowing his brother will acquiesce.
The coffee splashes in my stomach, warming up to my chest. "I think I've had enough excitement for one day. It was nice to meet you guys, though."
As we part ways, I can't tear my eyes away from George.