Important Author's Note: In this chapter, the story REALLY begins.
Everything up till now was just an introduction. Here, we have just a very
short part which is still about the young Monica, which you don't even have
to read, if you're curious. ;-) You can skip and go straight to the next
*~*~*~* and read the important part of the story!
Chapter Six
Monica was terribly sorry to leave for school to her second year, because she now had her new sister Samantha, and she thought this was a bit unfair.
"It is unfair," she complained to her father on August the 31st. "Why do I have to leave and Sapphire gets to stay with Samantha as long as she wants?"
Draco did not even answer. They were sitting on the wide window sill and searching for a falling star, as always. Only this night, they couldn't find any. It had happened before, but never when Monica felt so bad.
"I mean, it's not like I don't like school," she kept on complaining. "I really enjoy myself there. I like most of the teachers, even Snape is okay, at least when I get my potion done right. And I get to see grandma, you know, cause she lives in Hogwarts with Snape."
"Your favorite class?..." Draco asked.
"Astronomy," said Monica at once, "I like gazing at the stars, you know." She smiled at him. "And Sinistra is really cool."
"Do you like Defence Against the Dark Arts?" asked Draco. "I remember when I studied in Hogwarts, they kept replacing the teacher every three terms. No one stayed for more than one year. And they were all weird, too. The first one was Voldemort's servant; the second one was an arrogant idiot who kept talking about how brave and smart and handsome he was, only he wasn't - Harry and Ron discovered he had been lying. The third one was a werewolf. The fourth one - "
"Hang on," said Monica, "have you just said 'werewolf'? Are you talking about Remus Lupin? I remember Mom mentioning he used to be a teacher."
"Yeah, that's him," said Draco uncomfortably.
"Do you have a problem with Remus being a werewolf, Dad?" asked Monica, frowning. "You made it sound as if it were wrong or weird."
"No, I don't," said Draco quickly. "I just - " he gave up. "Look, Mon, you know what an idiot I was back then. I was so self-centered and stupid. I didn't like Remus being a werewolf."
Monica simply shrugged. She did not like that fact about her father, who was almost her idol; but she knew he had changed, so she changed the subject quickly.
"Anyway, I like Defence Against the Dark Arts. Kingsley Shacklebolt teaches us, and he's really nice. We haven't studied a lot yet, only simple blocking spells, but it's kind of fun. But it's Katelyn's favorite lesson."
"Katelyn who?"
"My friend, Katelyn Aniston. She likes Defence Against the Dark Arts, she reads books about it all the time while I read my astronomy books. Do you remember the library?"
"Of course, I remember it. I had to visit there so many times when I had homework to be done."
"Yeah, I love it. I borrow books all the time. Madam Pince already knows me. Whenever I go in there, she says: 'Why, if it's not our little Monica'."
"Really? I remember Madam Pince as a bony, irritable, vulture-like woman. She hated students touching her precious books," said Draco. "I remember her once chasing me out of the library, because I dared to fold a tiny corner of a page. She has hated me ever since."
Monica laughed, but her smile was still a little grim.
"What's the matter?" asked Draco.
"I want to see a falling star!" said Monica, "How can I say goodbye to you without wishing upon a star that we will see each other again really, really soon?"
"We can pretend," said Draco, but Monica wasn't convinced; she kept gazing into the sky and sigh.
Draco sighed, too. If only she knew...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Five years later, she knew.
She was seventeen now, in her seventh year, and it was just before Christmas. This year, Dumbledore had decided to have a small Christmas party for those students who were going home for Christmas - Monica, for instance.
Monica had grown a lot in those five years. She was now very tall and her body made most boys drool over her. Her hair was loose and fell on her back in long, beautiful, white-blond curls. When she danced, her hair was almost too shiny to look at. She was wearing black robes which made her hair glisten even more. The best thing about Monica's beauty was that she had no idea how beautiful she was.
Katelyn was dancing next to Monica, and they were having a great time. Later on, a tall, blond, green-eyed guy joined them and danced in front of Monica. She smiled pleasantly.
"Hello, Robin."
Robin and Monica had not been in touch for all those years, but Monica had lately noticed that Robin was not a typical Slytherin - at least not in her opinion. He did not make disgusting jokes about people, nor did he laugh when the other Slytherins did. He was very nice to Monica, and she thought it was unlikely for a true Slytherin. Even Katelyn agreed with her on that.
Maybe he had changed, like her father had, she thought.
They danced for a few minutes; then the music changed to a slow dance. Robin immediately stopped and offered his hand to Monica. "Wanna dance?"
"Sure," Monica replied, took his hand and moved closer to him.
The feeling was unbelivable. Dancing with Robin made her feel as though she was floating on cloud nine. He was an amazing dancer; his hand was on the exact spot on her waist that made her shiver in delight and his other hand, which was holding her own, made tingles spread across her arm.
Monica was just about to ask herself if this was IT, when someone yelled from the other side of the room: "Hey there! Monica!"
Robin and Monica stopped dancing; Monica flashed Robin an apologetic look, and reluctantly turned to see who was calling so tactlessly.
No, this can't be happening to me, she sighed. It was Brendon Flint, a fourth-year Slytherin. Monica's mother had told her this was the son of Pansy Parkinson and Marcus Flint, two Slytherins who used to study in Hogwarts with her, and as she stated very clearly, were also idiots and the only thing they were interested in was insulting people and making their lives miserable. "Perfect for each other," her mother had said.
Naturally, Monica did not respect this boy very much. Brendon, however, HATED Monica. Whenever he passed her in the halls, he made faced at her, sent tripping spells towards her feet, threw frogs and tarantulas at her; when he didn't do that, he simply tried to insult her in every way possible.
Monica did not give a damn about Brendon. Katelyn, however, got upset very easily, and used to have long, tiring arguments with him whenever he picked on her best friend.
"I think he has a crush on you," she once declared to Monica.
But Monica still did not give a damn. "Bite me," she said indifferently and changed the subject.
But what was he doing, interrupting her now, exactly the moment she thought she may had found something she had been looking for her whole life?
Monica had no choice but to answer him. She rolled her eyes and called back: "What do you want?"
"Having fun there, bitch?"
Monica closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and glared at Brendon impatiently. "Actually, I WAS having fun, until you showed up to ruin this for me. Thank you."
Robin grinned.
"You should be careful, don't you think so, Mon?" shouted Brendon.
"Careful about what, not looking at your face because it might make me sick? All right, I will."
"No, you stupid bitch," yelled Brendon, obviously enjoying himself more and more. "I'm saying you should be careful about your BOYFRIEND. You don't want to get drunk like your dear Mudblood mother did - do you?"
Monica clenched her teeth; the insult to her mother made her face redden, but she remained self-controlled. "Either say what you mean, or shut up," she called.
"I mean your mother - you don't want to get drunk like she did, do you? Otherwise, your boyfriend may get lucky tonight - " his eyes moved from Monica to Robin, and back to Monica - "I guess he'd be happy, but you probably wouldn't if you get pregnant, would you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" shouted Monica. She was starting to lose her self-control; paralysing fear was spreading in her bones.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, you slut," screamed Brendon, his face glowing in excitement. "Just a note there - if you do have sex tonight, remember to use protection, or we're going to have a lot of little Monicas around, and we don't want that, do we?"
Monica was standing there as if she were nailed to the floor. She could not move a muscle. She was simply petrified. Then she felt a hand tugging at her shirt, but she couldn't even turn her head to see who it was.
The hand gripped her arm and dragged her backwards, out of the Great Hall, away from the laughing Brendon, until she could see him no longer, but she could still hear his laughter...
The person holding her turned her around forcefully; it was Katelyn.
"Are you OK?" she demanded.
Monica did not answer.
Katelyn grabbed her and dragged her up the stairs, to the Gruffindor common room, and then to their dormitory. She sat her down on the bed and sat down in front of her, waiting for her to speak.
Eventually, Monica opened her mouth.
"Did you know?" she asked in a flat voice.
Katelyn gazed at her for a second; then she dropped her gaze. "Yes," she admitted softly, "I knew."
Chapter Six
Monica was terribly sorry to leave for school to her second year, because she now had her new sister Samantha, and she thought this was a bit unfair.
"It is unfair," she complained to her father on August the 31st. "Why do I have to leave and Sapphire gets to stay with Samantha as long as she wants?"
Draco did not even answer. They were sitting on the wide window sill and searching for a falling star, as always. Only this night, they couldn't find any. It had happened before, but never when Monica felt so bad.
"I mean, it's not like I don't like school," she kept on complaining. "I really enjoy myself there. I like most of the teachers, even Snape is okay, at least when I get my potion done right. And I get to see grandma, you know, cause she lives in Hogwarts with Snape."
"Your favorite class?..." Draco asked.
"Astronomy," said Monica at once, "I like gazing at the stars, you know." She smiled at him. "And Sinistra is really cool."
"Do you like Defence Against the Dark Arts?" asked Draco. "I remember when I studied in Hogwarts, they kept replacing the teacher every three terms. No one stayed for more than one year. And they were all weird, too. The first one was Voldemort's servant; the second one was an arrogant idiot who kept talking about how brave and smart and handsome he was, only he wasn't - Harry and Ron discovered he had been lying. The third one was a werewolf. The fourth one - "
"Hang on," said Monica, "have you just said 'werewolf'? Are you talking about Remus Lupin? I remember Mom mentioning he used to be a teacher."
"Yeah, that's him," said Draco uncomfortably.
"Do you have a problem with Remus being a werewolf, Dad?" asked Monica, frowning. "You made it sound as if it were wrong or weird."
"No, I don't," said Draco quickly. "I just - " he gave up. "Look, Mon, you know what an idiot I was back then. I was so self-centered and stupid. I didn't like Remus being a werewolf."
Monica simply shrugged. She did not like that fact about her father, who was almost her idol; but she knew he had changed, so she changed the subject quickly.
"Anyway, I like Defence Against the Dark Arts. Kingsley Shacklebolt teaches us, and he's really nice. We haven't studied a lot yet, only simple blocking spells, but it's kind of fun. But it's Katelyn's favorite lesson."
"Katelyn who?"
"My friend, Katelyn Aniston. She likes Defence Against the Dark Arts, she reads books about it all the time while I read my astronomy books. Do you remember the library?"
"Of course, I remember it. I had to visit there so many times when I had homework to be done."
"Yeah, I love it. I borrow books all the time. Madam Pince already knows me. Whenever I go in there, she says: 'Why, if it's not our little Monica'."
"Really? I remember Madam Pince as a bony, irritable, vulture-like woman. She hated students touching her precious books," said Draco. "I remember her once chasing me out of the library, because I dared to fold a tiny corner of a page. She has hated me ever since."
Monica laughed, but her smile was still a little grim.
"What's the matter?" asked Draco.
"I want to see a falling star!" said Monica, "How can I say goodbye to you without wishing upon a star that we will see each other again really, really soon?"
"We can pretend," said Draco, but Monica wasn't convinced; she kept gazing into the sky and sigh.
Draco sighed, too. If only she knew...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Five years later, she knew.
She was seventeen now, in her seventh year, and it was just before Christmas. This year, Dumbledore had decided to have a small Christmas party for those students who were going home for Christmas - Monica, for instance.
Monica had grown a lot in those five years. She was now very tall and her body made most boys drool over her. Her hair was loose and fell on her back in long, beautiful, white-blond curls. When she danced, her hair was almost too shiny to look at. She was wearing black robes which made her hair glisten even more. The best thing about Monica's beauty was that she had no idea how beautiful she was.
Katelyn was dancing next to Monica, and they were having a great time. Later on, a tall, blond, green-eyed guy joined them and danced in front of Monica. She smiled pleasantly.
"Hello, Robin."
Robin and Monica had not been in touch for all those years, but Monica had lately noticed that Robin was not a typical Slytherin - at least not in her opinion. He did not make disgusting jokes about people, nor did he laugh when the other Slytherins did. He was very nice to Monica, and she thought it was unlikely for a true Slytherin. Even Katelyn agreed with her on that.
Maybe he had changed, like her father had, she thought.
They danced for a few minutes; then the music changed to a slow dance. Robin immediately stopped and offered his hand to Monica. "Wanna dance?"
"Sure," Monica replied, took his hand and moved closer to him.
The feeling was unbelivable. Dancing with Robin made her feel as though she was floating on cloud nine. He was an amazing dancer; his hand was on the exact spot on her waist that made her shiver in delight and his other hand, which was holding her own, made tingles spread across her arm.
Monica was just about to ask herself if this was IT, when someone yelled from the other side of the room: "Hey there! Monica!"
Robin and Monica stopped dancing; Monica flashed Robin an apologetic look, and reluctantly turned to see who was calling so tactlessly.
No, this can't be happening to me, she sighed. It was Brendon Flint, a fourth-year Slytherin. Monica's mother had told her this was the son of Pansy Parkinson and Marcus Flint, two Slytherins who used to study in Hogwarts with her, and as she stated very clearly, were also idiots and the only thing they were interested in was insulting people and making their lives miserable. "Perfect for each other," her mother had said.
Naturally, Monica did not respect this boy very much. Brendon, however, HATED Monica. Whenever he passed her in the halls, he made faced at her, sent tripping spells towards her feet, threw frogs and tarantulas at her; when he didn't do that, he simply tried to insult her in every way possible.
Monica did not give a damn about Brendon. Katelyn, however, got upset very easily, and used to have long, tiring arguments with him whenever he picked on her best friend.
"I think he has a crush on you," she once declared to Monica.
But Monica still did not give a damn. "Bite me," she said indifferently and changed the subject.
But what was he doing, interrupting her now, exactly the moment she thought she may had found something she had been looking for her whole life?
Monica had no choice but to answer him. She rolled her eyes and called back: "What do you want?"
"Having fun there, bitch?"
Monica closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and glared at Brendon impatiently. "Actually, I WAS having fun, until you showed up to ruin this for me. Thank you."
Robin grinned.
"You should be careful, don't you think so, Mon?" shouted Brendon.
"Careful about what, not looking at your face because it might make me sick? All right, I will."
"No, you stupid bitch," yelled Brendon, obviously enjoying himself more and more. "I'm saying you should be careful about your BOYFRIEND. You don't want to get drunk like your dear Mudblood mother did - do you?"
Monica clenched her teeth; the insult to her mother made her face redden, but she remained self-controlled. "Either say what you mean, or shut up," she called.
"I mean your mother - you don't want to get drunk like she did, do you? Otherwise, your boyfriend may get lucky tonight - " his eyes moved from Monica to Robin, and back to Monica - "I guess he'd be happy, but you probably wouldn't if you get pregnant, would you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" shouted Monica. She was starting to lose her self-control; paralysing fear was spreading in her bones.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, you slut," screamed Brendon, his face glowing in excitement. "Just a note there - if you do have sex tonight, remember to use protection, or we're going to have a lot of little Monicas around, and we don't want that, do we?"
Monica was standing there as if she were nailed to the floor. She could not move a muscle. She was simply petrified. Then she felt a hand tugging at her shirt, but she couldn't even turn her head to see who it was.
The hand gripped her arm and dragged her backwards, out of the Great Hall, away from the laughing Brendon, until she could see him no longer, but she could still hear his laughter...
The person holding her turned her around forcefully; it was Katelyn.
"Are you OK?" she demanded.
Monica did not answer.
Katelyn grabbed her and dragged her up the stairs, to the Gruffindor common room, and then to their dormitory. She sat her down on the bed and sat down in front of her, waiting for her to speak.
Eventually, Monica opened her mouth.
"Did you know?" she asked in a flat voice.
Katelyn gazed at her for a second; then she dropped her gaze. "Yes," she admitted softly, "I knew."