Hello faithful readers!
My utmost apologies for the delay in updating – have just got back from two weeks in Uganda (yes, Uganda!) so have furiously penned this chapter at the speed of light. I should be back on course with the weekly updates very soon and until then, please stick with it! As always reviews are welcome!
Love you lots and jelly tots,
-xXx- LoVeDaY –xXx-
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Chapter Twenty Seven
"Oof!" exclaimed Eleanora loudly, as she slipped on a perilous patch of ice, her feet skittering wildly underneath her.
"Watch it," said Ron, catching her arm in his gloved hand. "That's the last thing we need; another Chaser down."
Harry nodded eagerly, the bobble on top of his knitted hat dancing comically with his enthusiasm. "Only a week to go now!" he grinned, his green eyes shining with excitement.
"Only a week until I get to pound Malfoy into the ground," agreed Eleanora with a smirk, her voice muffled from behind the thick woollen scarf that obscured most of her face from view.
Hermione shot her a warning look, though the effect was somewhat lessened by the pair of bright pink ear-muffs that sat snugly over the girls ears. Eleanora shrugged, but grabbed hold of her hand affectionately all the same, Hermione's lilac gloves clashing horrendously with Eleanora's orange ones, which she had charmed with a fierce warming spell.
The four friends were walking down the school drive on their way to Hogmeade, their breath billowing in steamy clouds before them as they chattered animatedly. Small groups of cheerful students surrounded them on all sides, a cacophony of joyful voices ringing out, discussing the new robes in Madame Malkin's and whether the rumours of carnivorous toilet seats in Zonko's were true or just the product of Zacharias Smith's overactive imagination. Eleanora stuck a gloved hand deep into the pocket of her duffel coat and her fingers closed around the sizable sack of galleons that sat there, deliciously heavy. She grinned with relish, and thought longingly of the high stacked shelves and rickety glass cabinets of the infamous joke shop, stocked with all sorts of mirth and merriment waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting school. Fred and George, accompanied by Lee had left school early after a hurriedly consumed breakfast in the hope of stocking up before Filch made his routine visit to inform Mr Zonko exactly what the students were not allowed to purchase. According to George, who had taken the liberty of sneaking into Flich's office the previous night, the list, inscribed upon a filthy six feet long piece of parchment, now totalled some three hundred objects, including exploding door knockers, ever-bouncing balls, indoor portable thunder clouds and edible pillows, which apparently contravened Filch's decree of "no eating in the dormitories." Fred however, had neatly removed some of the more desirable objects from the list, taking great care to ensure that the liquefying lotion they had such plans for was notably absent from the cramped columns of writing.
"Remind me to go to Flourish and Blotts," said Hermione, searching deeply in one of her pockets, "they've got a new order of 1001 Uses For Dragons Blood that I want to have a look at." She pulled out a hair band and tied her bushy hair into a neat bun, as Eleanora watched in wonderment.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Sounds fascinating that does," he said dryly.
"How do you get your hair to do that?" Eleanora asked in an incredulous tone, raking a hand through her own hair, which despite a tangle of ribbon and hairnets still refused to conform to any earthly shape.
"Did you try that potion Parvati gave you?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, the whole bottle; that day when you said it smelled like I had washed my hair in Bubertuber pus."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "It was more like armadillo bile actually."
Eleanora grinned weakly. "Well, whatever it smelt like it didn't work, that's for sure."
"What else would you expect from something in a bright pink bottle?" asked Ron, looking thoroughly disgusted.
Suddenly a voice rang out behind them. "Oi! 'Arry! You lot! Over 'ere!"
The four spun round, Eleanora once again slipping off her feet and being clumsily caught, this time by Hermione. Hagrid stood on the frozen grass behind them, a bulging sack slung over his broad shoulder, which looked uncomfortably like it may contain rabbits. They trudged over to greet him, leaving trails in the frosted grass.
"Hello Hagrid," greeted Hermione warmly, smiling at the towering man. Eleanora grinned at him over the top of her scarf.
"'Ello you lot," he replied, a huge smile creasing his hairy good natured face. "Off to 'Ogsmeade?"
Harry nodded. "What's in the bag?" he asked, nodding to the heavy sack.
Hagrid grimaced. "Rabbit's," he replied a little sorrowfully. "The Thestrals love 'em, won't eat nothin' else."
Eleanora listened with interest. For the past few weeks, she had been helping the affable gamekeeper tend to the Thestrals, the only domesticated herd in Britain. She had, during the spell of warmer weather that had given way to the present frozen snap, developed a habit of idly wandering down to the forest's edge, and just waiting for the beautiful creatures to emerge like shadows, their reptilian faces gleaming in the half light thrown by the skeletal trees. Hagrid had discovered her there one morning three weeks ago, standing perfectly content whilst four Thestrals gently nuzzled her neck, pawing the ground while she stoked their darkly iridescent manes.
"Wondered 'ow long it would be before you came down 'ere," he had said gently.
Eleanora had turned round, her hands still wound in their silky manes. "They're beautiful, aren't they?" she said quietly, still staring into their orb like eyes, which glowed like opals in the pale dawn light.
"Your dad said you wouldn't be able ter stay away fer long," Hagrid had said, a grin creeping into his voice.
Eleanora smiled. "He knows me far too well, I think," she replied quietly.
"'Ow long is it now?" asked the large man softly, leaning his weight against a tree, half cloaking himself in shadows.
"Six years," she had replied, her tone measured and even, though she kept her face resolutely tuned away, her dark eyes suddenly brimming with salty tears. "Or it will be next month."
"She was a great girl, yer mother," Hagrid said, his voice creaking slightly. "She and yer dad were made for each other, yer could just see it."
"I know," Eleanora said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robes, now tinged with the musky odour of hay and warm hair. Turning around, she smiled at Hagrid.
"You were at the wedding weren't you?" she asked softly. "I saw you in the pictures."
"Yeh, that I was," he had replied, nodding. "Great day was that – yer mother looked a real picture."
"She did didn't she," agreed Eleanora, remembering the crumpled pictures, carefully stashed away at the bottom of her trunk, bearing the smiling visage of her parents, her fathers arm draped protectively over her mother's shoulders, her long hair elaborately braided into a coronet of spun gold. Her mother's turquoise eyes twinkled happily as she gazed up into the beaming face of her husband, whose black hair blew wildly about his handsome face in the breeze.
"There's a lot of yer mother inside yer, yer know," he continued, looking at her searchingly. "Lots of yer dad to – that's plain ter see."
"Tell me something I don't know," grinned Eleanora, patting a Thestral on the neck as it lazily ambled back into the foliage. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but her tone was cheerful.
"He's back now," she said conversationally, as she checked her wrist watch. "He said he'd come to visit over the mid term holidays."
"It'll be good ter see him again," mused Hagrid, scratching his beard. "He'll be right glad to see yer doing so well."
Eleanora rolled her eyes. "As long as he doesn't speak to Snape or Trelawney he'll be fine," she said as she wound her way past the burly man. "Wouldn't want to disillusion him now would we?"
"Yer better get some breakfast down yer," said Hagrid as she turned to leave. "And anytime yer want ter come down to see 'em, yer can yer know."
Eleanora flashed a smile. "Thanks," she said. "It helps I think; haven't got a clue why but it does."
"I know," Hagrid replied, following with his eyes a lone Thestral that was threading its way back into the forest. "Special creatures them."
Since then Eleanora had made regular visits to the gamekeepers hut, partaking in a steaming mug of tea, syrupy with sugar, before braving the frigid air to tend to the creatures.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Eleanora spoke up. "Did you manage to sort out the lame one's hoof?"
Hagrid nodded happily. "Yeah," he replied, "she's right as rain now. Make sure yer come and see 'er though; she's bin pining for yer."
Eleanora smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I've had Quidditch practice practically every day. Angelina is a complete slave driver."
"Yer dad will be pleased ter see yer on the team," said Hagrid beaming, heaving the sack further onto his shoulder. "Is 'e still coming next week?"
She nodded happily. "Should be here Saturday morning. He'll be down to see you like a shot once he knows you've got Snorlack eggs. Just don't let him have one whatever you do."
She raised an eyebrow in warning. Hagrid had recently taken delivery of a large crate of rust coloured eggs, whose thick, brittle shells would soon crack open to reveal what Eleanora regarded as possibly the ugliest magical creature this side of Pansy Parkinson. The claws of the Snorlack, a puny featherless bird with grey mottled skin and a huge bulbus head had potent medicinal properties and Hagrid hoped to rear his brood to adulthood, clipping the claws as required for use in the infirmary. Eleanora knew instinctively that her father would not be able to resist the pull of such a rare creature, and she would most likely have to forcibly drag him away empty handed from the dark confines of Hagrid's hut, his boyish pleas still hanging in the air.
"Yer alright," Hagrid replied, "Poppy told me I'm not to let any of 'em go – needs 'em all apparently."
Eleanora frowned. "Why does she need them all?" she asked. "Snorlack claws are used for the relief of curse scar damage aren't they?"
Hermione nodded, as Ron piped up, "And apart from yours truly here," nudging Harry in the ribs," no one else is running about with a bloody great scar on them are they?"
Hagrid narrowed his eyes at them. "Never you mind about that," he replied gruffly.
"Oh come on!" exclaimed Harry, "you can't do that to us!"
"No," said Hagrid, turning to leave, "I should not have told you that. Have a good time down at 'Ogsmeade!"
And with that he lumbered away, the pendulous sack swinging over his broad shoulder. Eleanora looked at Harry curiously.
"What do you reckon he meant by that then?"
Harry bit his lip in thought. "I don't know. Maybe Dumbledore's expecting my scar to start burning worse then ever now that Voldemort's back."
Hermione and Ron shrunk away, and Ron gritted his teeth. "Harry! Don't say it!" he grimaced, looking round as if her feared the Dark Lord would suddenly leap out from behind a clump of frosted bushes at the sound of his name.
Hermione laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure that if Dumbledore knew anything, he would have told you, Harry."
Harry smiled at her weakly, though his eyes belied his unconcerned tone. "Yeah, you're probably right. They might need it for potions ingredients or something, right?"
Ron nodded forcefully, as if eager to dispel his friend's doubts. "Yeah, mate. Snape's probably got something nasty planned for it, condemning it to a life in a pickle jar in that office of his, forced to watch his great greasy head bent over a desk all day."
Harry grinned. "Fate worse than death that."
Eleanora however was lost in thought. Of course, she realised with a dull jolt, Harry wasn't the only one at Hogwarts with a curse scar. Snape bears the Dark Mark.
Eleanora knew with the ingrained certainty of a witch brought up in the centre of the wizarding world that the Dark Mark was one of the most powerful symbols of dark magic known, an instantly recognisable and widely feared emblem of the reign of terror that Voldemort had inflicted upon their kind. And now that he was back, stronger than ever, the Mark would be a constant smouldering reminder of Snape's transgressions, his shadowed past, and his uncertain future.
"Eleanora?" came the distant voice of Ron cutting through the torrent of thoughts that crowded her mind.
"Yes?" she breathed, her brows still furrowed in concentration, as she turned her gaze on her friends who had continued walking, leaving her standing blankly in the middle of path.
"You alright there?"
"Oh, yes," she replied, jogging to catch up, "just remembered something that's all."
"You never told us you were helping Hagrid with the Thestrals," said Hermione, blowing into her cupped hands to warm them.
"Must have slipped my mind," answered Eleanora evasively, not eager to share the real reason why she had neglected to tell her friends of her new pastime. The revelation that she could see the beautiful creatures would certainly lead to the sort of awkward questions that she so detested, and steeled herself as she walked in silence to answer. The throng was hushed; the only sound the crunch of four pairs of booted feet on the brittle grass, a thousand blades of iced green, gleaming in the pale morning sunlight.
Ron cleared his throat. "You can see them then?"
Eleanora swallowed hard, glad that her scarf covered her trembling lips.
"Yeah," she replied quietly, gazing over the frosted landscape, the turreted and gabled roofs of Hogsmeade shimmering into view behind the tall trees that marked the Hogwarts boundaries.
"Who was it?" asked Harry softy, staring at the ground, as if afraid of the girls answer.
"My mother," came the even reply, her voice toneless and dull.
Hermione squeezed her hand, her face, buffeted by the cold wind, creasing into a comforting smile.
"Sorry," mumbled Ron, the tips of ears turning a vivid shade of beetroot.
"S'OK," Eleanora replied. "I've had six years to get used to it."
"Never stops hurting though does it?" said Harry quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, a lock of black hair falling over his eyes.
"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "Gets easier all the time though, or so they say."
"Yeah," echoed Harry flatly, "so they say."
The group was broken out of their quiet contemplation by tangle of shrill voices behind them.
"Eleanora! Hermione! Hang on! Wait for us!"
They turned around, Ron grimacing wearily as he saw who the piercing voices belonged to. Parvati and Lavender were tottering unsteadily down the slick pathway, wearing matching petal pink winter robes, their wrists heavy with assorted bracelets and bangles which clattered merrily as they waved their exuberant greetings.
"Hello you two," they said happily, appraising Harry and Ron with a sweeping glance, then turned their attention on Eleanora who was staring at their myriad of jewellery with an amused expression.
"Have we got some good news for you!" gushed Lavender, nearly taking Harry's eye out with a large jewelled ring as she swept her hands up in an elaborate gesture.
"Have you?" replied Eleanora, smirking at Ron who was making faces behind Parvati's back.
"Yes," answered Parvati, in a important tone. "Guess who has just had in a new order of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion? The one you were asking about?"
"Hmmmm? You'll have to enlighten me," replied Eleanora trying her level best to look as enthralled at this news as they obviously were, but failing miserably not to laugh as Ron was now charming Parvati's long braid to swing wildly from side to side.
"Madame Breezy's," finished Lavender looking very pleased with herself. We're going in there first thing and -"
"Could you pick some up for me?" asked Eleanora quickly, privately thinking that the last thing she wanted to spend her morning doing was shopping with Parvati and Lavender for all manner of potions and lotion in Madame Breezy's Aesthetic Enhancement Emporium. Before either of them could protest, she fished a few coins out of her pocket and pressed them into Parvati's hand.
"Just one bottle should be enough."
"Are you sure?" asked Lavender sceptically, eyeing Eleanora's hair critically.
"Yeah, sure," she replied. "I'll catch up with you later."
Calling their goodbyes, the two girls continued down the pathway, teetering on their high heels.
"Mad," muttered Ron, "absolutely barking mad, the both of them."
"And since when did you become so interested in hair potions?" asked Harry slyly, digging her in the ribs.
"I never said I was interested," replied Eleanora carefully. "Just that it might be nice sometimes not to look as if I have a phoenix nesting in my hair."
"Fair enough," replied Ron with a mystified expression.
As they wandered down the main street of the wizarding village, Harry pulled his bobble hat further down over his pale forehead. Eleanora caught his eye and he shrugged – not that she could blame him as already he had attracted an assortment of curious looks and none too subtle stares. As they were passing Flourish & Blotts, Hermione disappeared through the darkened doorway, giving Ron a meaningful look. Eleanora made to follow her, but Harry grabbed her arm, giving her a bright smile.
"She'll be ages in there you know," he said rolling his eyes as he forcefully steered her away. "I want to go to Honeydukes, come on."
"But I need a new quill!" she protested, turning back.
"We can get one later," he said. "Ron needs one too, don't you Ron?"
"Oh, ummm," he mumbled, "yeah…New quill."
Eleanora narrowed her eyes at him in distrust, feeling sure that he was up to something, yet said nothing and allowed herself to be escorted across the bustling high street to the brightly coloured façade of the sweetshop, by now teeming with excited students, bags and boxes clutched in their hands as they parted with their gold. The three pushed through the doorway, nearly getting knocked over by a group of rowdy third years barrelling out into the street, huge pink bubbles streaming from their mouths, disappearing into the stark brightness of the sky.
"Droobles!" exclaimed Eleanora. "I haven't had that in years!"
"Time to reacquaint yourself then!" grinned Ron, grabbing a bag of a nearby shelf and dropping it into her hands.
"What do you reckon to some Pepper Imps?" asked Eleanora shaking the small black box. "Breathe fire for you friends?"
"Sounds good to me," said Harry, as he deliberated between Toothflossing Stringmints and Ice Mice.
"Go for the Ice Mice," Ron said. "Hermione always has a load of Stringmints in her bag. Must be the dentist's influence."
"Dentists?" asked Eleanora blankly.
"'Mione's parents are both dentists," explained Harry. "Better not show her those Exploding Bonbons – really bad for your teeth apparently.
"I'm not surprised," she replied, reading the miniscule writing on the packet with a shudder. "Maybe I'll leave these where they are. Coconut ice seems a lot safer."
Ten minutes later the three staggered out of Honeydukes, their arms laden with a large box, containing their horde. Eleanora's box kept wriggling in her grasp as her Jelly Snakes become more and more agitated, hissing loudly as she hoisted the box up to get a better grip on it.
"I still say you'll never eat those Blood Flavour Lollipops," insisted Ron, giving her a dubious look.
"We'll see," she grinned, licking her lips lasciviously, relishing the look of nausea that passed over her friends face.
"Where now?" she asked Harry, whose own box was squeaking shrilly thanks to the Ice Mice within.
"I told 'Mione we'd meet her in Zonkos," he said, nodding his head over to a large shop that looked as if it's upper floors had been added one day by a mere afterthought, wavering perilously over the busy street below.
"Ahh," breathed Eleanora, staring up reverently at the rickety building. "The finest joke shop ever built. I feel almost unworthy."
Harry grinned at her. "Nonsense. If anyone is worthy to step inside this place, it's you. You've kept up with Fred and George so far haven't you?"
"I am but the lowly student to their masterful mentoring," she said in a mock reverential tone. "Wonder if they managed to get hold of those Finger Snapping Books they were on about."
The three strolled in through the narrow doorway. From the looks of the place, nearly every student in Hogwarts was crammed into the musty corners, studiously examining some object or another, whispering quiet recommendations or warnings to their friends, joyously exclaiming as they found another hidden treasure amongst the usual wares. Eleanora spotted Seamus and Dean huddled at the back of the shop with Terry Boot and Fern Baggins, a pretty fourth year Hufflepuff. They appeared to be deep in conversation but Seamus beckoned her when she waved cheerily at him.
"What do you think of this?" he asked in a hushed tone, pulling something out from his sleeve. It resembled a small, extremely grimy salt shaker, encrusted with what looked like a centuries worth of dirt. It contained a vivid red powder, which glowed strongly in the gloom of the darkened shop.
"What is it?" asked Eleanora, one eyebrow raised sceptically.
"Snoo powder," replied Fern, tossing a dark curl out of her eyes.
"Snoo powder?" echoed Eleanora, failing to restrain a smirk curling across her lips. "Snoo?"
"It's meant to be like Floo powder but you don't need a fire," explained Terry enthusiastically. "I thought I could use it to visit Fern's dormitory."
"Oh yeah?" said Eleanora, nudging Fern with a grin. "Shocking behaviour."
"So, you reckon it would work?" she asked eagerly.
Eleanora took the small pot out of Seamus' hands and weighed it in her palm. It felt heavy and strangely warm, a rather familiar sensation.
"Not a chance," she said, handing it back to the sandy headed boy. "What you've got there is a pot full of powdered Ocundu bones. Fine if you want to ease muscle pain, but not much use for sneaking off to the girl's dormitory."
Fern's face fell, but not nearly as much as Terry's.
"However, Eleanora continued, a crafty smile lighting her face "and you did not hear this from me, there is a passage way leading from the portrait gallery off the first floor corridor down to the Hufflepuff dormitories. Might be a bit damp because it goes past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom but apart from that…."
"How do you know about that?" asked Terry, now looking a lot happier.
"Fred and George told me," she replied airily. "See you later – we'll be in The Three Broomsticks if you're at a loose end!"
She sauntered back to where Harry and Ron stood, now immersed in a large display of Nose Biting Teacups.
"What about this one?" asked Ron, cautiously holding up a large blue and white china cup by its handle.
"Nah," replied Harry with a wince, extracting his fingers from the sharp teeth of a small shallow cup patterned with swirling Chinese dragons.
"Nose Biting Teacups?" asked Eleanora smirking at them. "That's original."
"Yeah well," muttered Harry, sucking his fingers. "They still bloody well hurt."
Draping an arm round each of the boys, she steered them up the narrow staircase that led to the upper floors, dominated by large glass cases which housed the more expensive, rarer items.
"This," she announced, "is more like it." She gazed round appreciatively, her dark eyes lingering on a dusty cabinet which looked like it contained a rather odd assortment of old toilet seats.
"Excellent," she breathed, a devious grin spilling over her face.
"A toilet seat?" asked Ron, his eyes brows practically up in his vivid hairline.
"Not just any toilet seat, my friend," she answered, gingerly opening the creaking door of the cabinet. "Nothing more and nothing less than a bona fide Carnivorous Toilet Seat."
"Ouch," grimaced Harry. "Just be sure not to leave it lying around in the Gryffindor bathrooms, yeah?"
"Oh no fear," she replied, winking at him. "This little treasure is destined for the fifth year Slytherin girl's bathroom."
Ron grinned. "Oh just imagine," he mused aloud, "Piggy Parkinson's screams when that thing takes a large chunk out of her fat behind!"
"Exactly!" smiled Eleanora. "She could stand to lose a few pounds anyway – I'm really doing her a favour!"
"How much is it?" asked Harry, leaning over to get a better look.
"Ten Galleons," she replied with a slight frown, "but worth every penny. I might reuse it in the Slytherin changing rooms before the match next week."
Harry laughed, his green eyes alight with mischief. "Imagine Ferret Features trying to fly with half his backside missing!"
"That settles it then," said Eleanora decisively, descending the stairs to purchase the toilet seat. "I'm thinking of it as an investment."
As she shook the heavy gold coins out of her money sack, she wondered whether Fred and George had managed to get their hands on the Liquefying Potion. Many clandestine conversations had taken place over the possibilities of that small bottle, and having pooled their resources, they had amassed enough money to purchase a bottle sufficient to service the entire Slytherin corridor.
Clutching her bag with the toilet seat tightly wrapped in brown paper with a few well chosen sealing charms placed on it, she stood by the door whilst Harry and Ron made their purchases. Harry in particular appeared particularly pleased with his Invisible Pea Shooter.
"Think about it!" he said excitedly. "I can spend all potions lesson aiming ink pellets at Malfoy now, and he won't have a clue!"
The three friends found Hermione waiting patiently for them outside the door, clasping a large bag in her hands.
"Let's have a look then," asked Eleanora, attempting to peer into the bag but Hermione quickly closed it, promising that she could look later. Eleanora gave her a searching stare, but said nothing.
After a brief visit to the Quidditch Emporium for Harry to pick up a jar of Speed-Up's Broom Wax, they found themselves outside the Three Broomsticks, the warmly lit interior of the bustling bar glowing invitingly from behind the small panes of frosted glass that were painstakingly inlaid into the heavy oaken door. As she stepped into the bright room, a deliciously savoury scent played around her nose, enticing her senses and making her mouth water.
"Mmmmmm," Eleanora sniffed appreciatively. "What is that smell?"
Ron grinned. "Never had a slice of Madame Rosmerta's game pie before?"
"Nope," answered Eleanora, now gazing around from the source of the tempting smell.
"You don't know what you've been missing," he said.
Harry grabbed a large circular table that had just been vacated by a group of rowdy goblins, and sat down in a comfortable armchair. Ron and Hermione joined him, Hermione taking care to place her bag where she could see it beside her chair.
"I'll get the first round in," said Eleanora. "Three Butterbeers?"
She jostled her way through to the crowded bar, lined with students and regulars alike. Pushing her way between a plump witch who wore a jaunty yellow top hat and a short wizard who was humming loudly and discordantly to himself, she gazed at the innumerable selection of bottles that lined the wall, containing all manner of jewel coloured liquids, from viridian green Absinthe to the bright purple hues of the mulberry brandy that Esmeralda had been so fond of. She felt a momentary pang of longing for the homely witch's affectionate embrace, the nearest thing to a mother's touch she had experienced for six years, but quickly dispelled it as she felt a familiar poke in the ribs.
"Alright, girl?" came the jovial voice of Lee who now stood beside her, his pockets bulging with what Eleanora supposed to be his purchases from Zonko's.
"Did you get the potion?" she said quietly out of the corner of her mouth.
"Of course," he replied, patting a pocket. "No problems."
Madame Rosmerta hurried up to them, looking flushed, her wavy blond hair coming out of its loose bun in fly-away tendrils around her plump face. She hurriedly wiped her hands on a lacy apron tied around her waist, and smiled gaily in greeting.
"Hello Mr Jordan! Haven't seen you round here lately," she said, glancing with interest at Eleanora.
"Well, Rose – may I call you that? I've been rather busy what with schoolwork and business – you know what it's like," he replied flashing her a radiant smile. "I'll have three Fire Whiskeys please and by the way, this is Eleanora D'Souza – new fifth year."
Eleanora kicked him hard on the shin, and shot him a glare.
"I mean seventh year! Seventh year!" he corrected himself quickly.
"Thanks mate," he mumbled crossly as he bent down to rub his shin.
"Well, she's not going to let me have Dragon's Breath if she knows I'm a fifth year now is she?" hissed Eleanora angrily, as Rosmerta busied herself measuring out three shots of the rich amber coloured whiskey.
"You want to try Dragon's Breath?" exclaimed Lee loudly.
"Great Lee! Just tell the whole pub why don't you?" snapped Eleanora. "I don't think that little deaf old man in the corner heard you – want to say it again?"
Lee grabbed hold of her arm. "Listen – that stuff is intense," he told her. "Fred and I tried it once when Charlie brought some back from Romania – didn't stop breathing fire for two hours."
"Oh relax," she said, shaking off his arm. "You're beginning to sound like Hermione. Three Butterbeers and a shot of Dragon's Breath please! Oh, and four slices of your game pie."
"Good luck girl," said Lee, shaking his dreadlocked head. "Can we watch?"
Eleanora grinned. "Sure, as long as you'll make Butterbeer come out of your ears like you did last week with the pumpkin juice."
She paid the buxom bar lady and carefully carried the drinks back over to their table where Harry, Ron and Hermione were now joined by the twins. Lee pulled up a chair from another table, setting the whiskey's down on the table. Hermione absently placed a coaster under each glass, unaware of the amused glances she got.
"Here you go," said Eleanora, handing each of her friends a bottle of Butterbeer.
"What's that?" asked Ron, pointing to her tumbler, filled with a small measure of dark brown liquid, deep red depths burning within like smouldering embers in a dying fire.
"Dragon's Breath," she replied nonchalantly, dipping her little finger in the glass and bringing it to her lips. "Woah!" she exclaimed, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at Lee. "You were right."
"You're actually going to drink all of that?" asked Fred doubtfully, as he slammed his empty glass back on the table, nearly knocking it over.
"Yep – why not?" she replied.
"Because girls don't drink things like Dragon's Breath," answered George hesitantly, as he saw the bellicose glint come into her eyes.
"Oh yeah?" she said tauntingly, "so what do girl's drink?"
"Hmmm…..Butterbeer and….our mum drinks sweet sherry?"
"And a bit too much of that at Christmas," added Ron under his breath.
"Nonsense," said Hermione shortly, setting down her bottle. "Girls do drink whiskey."
"You don't," said Ron quickly.
"I know I don't," replied Hermione with a smirk, "but Ginny does."
"WHAT?" exploded the twins and Ron simultaneously, nearly leaping out of their chairs.
"Yes," replied Hermione casually. "And don't you dare say anything to her, or I shall tell your mother about your own questionable drinking habits."
They gaped at her, open mouthed.
"And yes Fred – I do mean the cider you were brewing in your dormitory out of the crab apples Hagrid gave you. You're lucky that the vat did explode otherwise you'd probably have poisoned half the school by now."
"You never told me about that!" Ron complained, swigging from his Butterbeer.
"Yeah well," George groused. "Like she said, it exploded. My bed sheets stank of cider for a month."
"That's what happens when you don't wash them, you stinker," laughed Lee, only narrowly ducking the flying coaster that was swiftly thrown at him.
"Sorry!" he shouted apologetically to the irate fourth year at the next table who was hit on the back of the head by the assailant coaster.
"Any one want some Pepper Imps?" asked Eleanora, reaching down into the Honeydukes box for the packet. "Madame Rosmerta said the pie should take about fifteen minutes."
She shook out the tiny black imps onto the table, and they all made a grab for them before they escaped, crunching them hard before they had a chance to start wriggling inside their mouths. Fred banged his fist hard down on the table, flattening one who was intently manoeuvring his way between the empty glasses.
"Gotcha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, popping the belligerent imp into his mouth, choking back a cough as he spat a few sparks onto the table.
"Charming," muttered Hermione, as he slapped them out with his sleeve.
Eleanora stared at her glass, still full, sitting innocuously on the table, aware of the others staring expectantly at her. Picking it up, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In one swift movement she threw the contents down her throat, gasping as the tawny liquid burnt a path down to her stomach. It felt like she had swallowed a raging flame that was licking hungrily at her insides, constricting her airways in its blazing grasp. She was barely aware of the horrified expressions of her friends as she turned around, her hands flailing wildly in front of her face, her eyes wide with the sensation of a flaming torch burning in her chest. Coughing, she spat out a scorching ribbon of flame, recoiling as the heat hit her blazing cheeks, now bright red with the heat that coursed through her helpless body. She was aware of an engulfing darkness closing around her, the scent of musk and sandalwood mingling with the odour of scorched wood. A deafening roar erupted above her, though through the sound of the desperate coughing that racked her body she could hear nothing but a furious resonance of shouts and curses.
Wheezing with sparks still dancing merrily in her eyes, she straightened herself back up, raked back her hair, the tips of her braids somewhat scorched, and came face to face, or more accurately face to waist with a furious looking Severus Snape, a rather large hole burnt into his black winter robes, the fatal scowl on his gaunt face more than enough to tell her that she was in very serious trouble.
Oh shit.