AN: Please read the prequel…A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes before reading this novella. It takes place 9 years in the future from chapter 8, so hopefully it won't confuse anyone too much. Full Summary at the end!
Marcy Narcissa Drummond sat quietly in the back row of her classroom, tapping irritably on her desk top with her number two pencil. It always made such a funny sound when it hit her desk, thumping along in little pitter patters as her teacher made his way through role call. Marcy had always detested role call, since it was only on rare occasion that her teachers could fluently speak her name or even attempt her middle. Most of the students in her class found it weird that her middle name was so foreign, since the typical students in Manchester had simpleton names like Jane or Emily. Her teacher, Mr. Hinkle, was staring at her rudely as she continued to tap her number two pencil on her desk top, humming along nonchalantly to a tune in her head.
It wasn't until just a few years prior that Marcy Narcissa Drummond had even existed in the small town of Manchester. She had moved in with her mother and younger brother Julian during the end of the summer, staying in a small house on the outskirts of the Highland developing community. No one knew where she had come from, not that it particularly mattered to her, for she didn't make friends easily and didn't intend too. She would never be like her brother.
Marcy considered herself a loner at all means. For starters, she looked nothing like the rest of her family, who sprouted unruly auburn colored hair that rivaled the Lincoln covered faces of American pennies. Both her mother and brother had eyes of deep rich cocoa and tiny frames, lingering inches underneath everyone else. But Marcy was different, with piercing cobalt blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that was long and pin straight. She was slightly bigger boned than her mother and at the wee age of 10 and ¾ she only stood a couple centimeters shorter. At school, she rivaled boys in basketball games and was equally as tough as the roughest football player, daring anyone to come up against her. She was witty and smart, excelling in all of her studies and also having the quickest tongue when it came to verbal disputes and sarcasm. But unlike her brother, Marcy wasn't popular and instead spent the normally frivolous lunch hours in the library reading up on her favorite courses.
The teachers at Caldwell Elementary had many a times suggested to Marcy's mother that she be excelled into a higher grade, that keeping her in such a place was only hindering her learning ability, but her mother kept her in her place and insisted she spend "humdrum" times doing something constructive. So Marcy continued to create riffs on her pencil, regardless of Mr. Hinkle's annoyed tone.
The bell rang and she jumped out of her seat, grabbing her bag off of the floor and barging to the door, grabbing the worksheet that had been assigned for homework off of the desk and shoving it into her pocket. Two of the boys in her class, Oliver Puddley and Hank Thomas, were following her precariously through the halls as she stomped out into the sunshine, basking in the wonderful glow of the summer. When she turned around the two boys were next to her, each smirking equally as large at her and pointing fingers at her blouse, which had a small stain of grape jelly from lunch spread on it.
"Look at that, the freak can't even keep herself clean!" Oliver chanted, laughing gallantly.
"You shut your mouth Oliver!" She tossed back, turning on her heel to march towards Highland developing. However, the boy didn't let her go, and instead twisted her arm back until she was facing him again, his amber colored eyes digging into her.
"Don't you tell me to shut up you ugly little ingrate." He spat, lowering his gaze to her blouse again, tugging on the rumpled fabric, "At least I don't wear cheap clothes or grow up in a cardboard box." The other boy began to laugh mercifully, pointing his finger at Marcy and taunting her. She felt tears welling up behind her eyes and she coaxed them down, unable to allow Oliver Puddley best her at a battle of words, "Why is your mother so poor Narc? Is her job at the hospital not good enough to get you anything proper?" He prodded, laughing at her again. She simply glared at him and went to turn again, but his chubby fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.
"Let go." She demanded, gripping his fingers in her own and pulling at them. He looked appalled as he pulled away, grabbing his own hand wildly.
"Don't touch me freak."
"I am not a freak." She bit back fiercely, the anger ebbing at her will power. She could feel it in her fingertips and her toes and the back of her eyelids, the image of Oliver Puddley lying on the ground covered in dirt and her fists pounding into his flesh becoming more and more appealing, "Don't insult my family again Oliver." She spat, moving away from him, however he had grabbed her bag and ripped it open, clutching a picture from the bottom of it. He was laughing at whatever was in the picture and saying something to her that made even Hank gasp loudly, but she didn't hear him, for her fists were bunching so quickly and flying through the air that she hadn't had a chance to process his reaction.
Marcy hit the ground with a loud thump as she fell on top of Oliver Puddley and began to throw her hands into his face, only getting angrier as he sputtered beneath her and started yelling at her to stop. It wasn't until two hands had pulled her off of the boy did she notice that his lip was cut badly and he was breathing heavily, the picture he had taken no where in sight.
"What do you think you're doing?" A boy yelled, who loomed just a few inches shorter than her. He was wearing a very handsome button down and jeans, his fingers clenched at his sides and his group of friends, which were surrounding him, all had the same plastered look of shock on their faces. His curly hair was swept back in the wind and his cocoa eyes were examining Marcy with extreme annoyance as he lifted Oliver to his feet, brushing the boy off, "Get out of here Oliver before I find a reason for my sister hacking off at you."
As Oliver took off and Marcy found her rumpled picture on the ground, she choked out a few words to Julian, "I could have handled it myself you know."
"Sure sis, next time I'll let you handle it and allow mum to get even more angry at you knowing you came home fighting."
"He was being a right prat." She exclaimed as they moved towards the sidewalk, shuffling along as Julian's friends waved him goodbye, "Not only did he insult me, he stole my picture!" She complained as she shoved the picture into her pocket for safe keeping, "He had it coming to him."
"You shouldn't be fighting." Julian pressed as they reached the Highland developing community and found there house. It wasn't large like most of the houses in Manchester; it was missing the typical illustrious veranda and brilliant serpentine shutters. It was brick and tiny with red splotches of paint all around and a poorly cut lawn, but it was home and it was nice for the amount of money they had paid for it. Julian ran through the gate and into the house as Marcy walked slower, taking her time to reach the door. She should have been used to the teasing about her mother's job at the hospital and lack of money in her family, and yet it still riled her temper to no end and had her jumping on top of boys and throwing her fists at them wildly. Sometimes she wondered how far in fights she could get if Julian wasn't always there to pick up the pieces. It was odd really, since Julian was almost 2 years younger than her and yet more of a diplomat than she could ever be. Growing up in the way they had surely had made him mature fast.
She fell down in the pearly long grass of her front yard and removed the rumpled picture from her pocket, straightening it out against her knee. She carried it with her everywhere, no matter if she was going to a dentist appointment or to school or even to bed. It was slowly fading and the image was scarce but she could see about 13 people surrounded in the picture, all laughing and hugging outside of the Eiffel Tower. She hardly recognized anyone at all, most were older individuals, almost all save five having that wonderful colored hair that her mum and Julian had. One of the other individuals had black hair darker than midnight and his arms were around a fair skinned woman with a beautiful smile. Another girl had long brown hair that was blowing in the wind and sputtering into the mouth of an unknown man and the woman Marcy assumed to be her mum, but much younger. Her mum was smiling happily with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her very large stomach. Standing next to her mum was Marcy, only a younger version, and she was holding the hand of a man whose face had darkened out of the picture from Marcy's growing fingers running over it continuously. It had faded from memory when she had taken the picture from her mum's room and she could no longer remember what the man looked like. But she could remember his smile, which was gloomier than any of the others but still genuine as he looked down at her. Feeling a tear roll down her face Marcy slipped the picture back into her pocket and walked inside, ready to listen to her mother's list of chores for the day. A talk about the fight would never occur, for Julian never told his mother of Marcy's escapades at school. If it didn't happen inside their gate he had always kept quiet about it, whether it was because he felt a true bond for his sister or because he was afraid he would be the next one lying on the ground as she reined fury upon him. Whatever the case, he kept his mouth shut as she entered the house and began taking down things to do.
~
Marcy sighed as she entered the cooling bath water, soaking up the bubbles that smelled like vanilla and coaxed at the bottom of her nose. She had always loved bubble baths as a child and now, with her own bathroom (which wasn't any bigger than a closet, but it worked regardless) she could take them whenever she pleased as long as she used a reasonable amount of water. Just as she reached for her copy of Little Women on the floor there was a knock at the door and her mother was entering, carrying a fresh collection of navy blue bath towels.
"Hello darling, enjoying your bath?" Her mum asked, placing her things on the sink.
"Yes its very nice." She replied, sinking lower within the bubbles so that only her chin and face poked up out of the suds. Her mum's face was crinkling up from the fragrance and she was fanning herself with one hand from the steam. Marcy laughed perceptibly and blew a bubble at her mum, watching it float towards her and the woman began to back against the wall. Giggling, she dove under the water as her mum retaliated with a handful of cold water from the sink, starting an awfully girly battle between the two. Marcy, though a loner, had always been able to joke with her mother. It was as if they had a very silly bond between them that they showed only when they weren't bickering or ignoring each other. It was nice to see her mum laugh for a change, which hadn't happened much as long as she could remember. Another knock on the door stopped their fun as her mum opened it, revealing a man that made Marcy gurgle back a groan and pout into the bubbles.
The man was nothing short of amazing; for he was exactly that…short with a slightly balding head and peach fuzz blonde hair. His eyes were dark and he was pudgy, too pudgy in Marcy's mind, and he had a high pitched laugh that made her scowl. Her mum had been seeing him for quite some time now, or at least that's what Marcy imagined since he was always over and when he wasn't she was on the phone with him. Supposedly, they worked together and he had a fair bit of money judging by the condition of his business suits and quite ugly bowler hats, but that didn't change Marcy's opinion of him. Neville Lovegood, as she knew him, was nothing close to glamorous.
"Virginia dear are you ready?" Neville asked cautiously, extending an arm to her mum. She detested the way her mother's name, Virginia, rolled off his tongue, since most people called her by her nickname Ginny. It sounded much more like her mother, since she was still a young woman that wasn't married. Virginia just sounded too formal, even as her mother was stepping into the hall, waving goodbye, and clicking the door closed.
"What's going on Neville? You know you aren't supposed to just barge into my daughter's bathroom like that." Ginny spoke softly, biting her lower lip. Neville showed up every few days to check on her, which she appreciated dearly, but she could see the look on her daughter's face that she used to remember in her family's eyes whenever she brought a new boy home. Marcy didn't seem to fancy him much.
"I know Ginny, but you told me to alert you the minute I received it." He replied, pushing a letter forward. Ginny gasped as she held the faded tartan envelope in her hands, the familiar sectioned crest glimmering up at her from the seal, while the other side branded her daughter's name in large loopy letters. She should have expected it, with Marcy's eleventh birthday only days away, but it was still a shock as she held the memory in her hands, her body shaking just slightly.
"I…" She started, sinking against Neville. It wasn't uncommon for her to find solace in Neville, his frequent visits usually caught her after a long day at the hospital or a row with Marcy, and her nerves were usually scattered about. He held her softly and rubbed her back gingerly with his fingers, attempting to quiet her. He was whispering in her ear and she bit back a laugh as she swatted him for something he said, placing her hands on her hips, "Neville Longbottom when was it that you became such wonderful help?" She asked honestly, placing the envelope back in his hands.
"When I changed my name so you wouldn't be found, gave you my grandmother's maiden name to use for your daughter, and helped you make something of yourself in Manchester." He said monotonously, as if he knew the speech far to well but then his tone sobered as he spoke again, "Ginny, you can't keep hiding this from Marcy. You can't keep hiding yourself from the rest of the world. You know far to well I imagine, that the letters will just keep coming. Marcy is ready for this you know." He replied, placing his hand comfortably against her shoulder.
"She's had a quiet life Neville." Ginny started, looking at him, "She hasn't had to deal with any of the problems of our world. She has enough things to deal with here and I can't imagine just turning her world upside down because of some ruddy letter."
"She has a right to know who she is…" Neville started, shaking his head, "Where she came from…what her family is like…who her family is…"
"She has a family here in Manchester." Ginny bit back, her eyes clouding with anger, "Julian and I are the only family she's ever known, and quite frankly I wouldn't have a problem if she only ever knew of us."
"That isn't fair Ginny and you know it." Neville yelled a little too loudly, the door to the bathroom vibrating just slightly, causing him to lower his voice to avoid the chance of Marcy overhearing him, "Even if you don't want her to ever meet your parents, or your brothers, or even Hermione, she still has the right to know about D…"
"Don't you even say that man's name." Ginny screamed, backing Neville towards the stairs, "Marcy doesn't need the heartbreak in her life I've felt for the past nine years. Take the letter back to the Ministry Neville. Tell them not to send anymore with you or I'll be sure to disappear. I value your help…but my children and I are no longer a part of your world and I refuse to let them know of its existence." She snapped, pushing him to the first step. He obliged and apparated into the air, leaving Ginny standing alone, her fingers clamped tightly together. She turned to her bedroom and sunk into its graying walls, her eyes catching sight of a dusty photo album in the corner. Letting a tear fall from her face she peeled out of her clothes and fell into bed, wrapping her fingers around her pillow and the loneliness of her bed frame.
She heard Marcy move from the bathroom to her bedroom as a door clicked closed and a light in the hallway faded to darkness. Ginny sniffed lightly and ran a finger against her freckle smattered nose, allowing her hair to fall from its secure against her head and into her face. As she drifted off to sleep in her usual fashion, which was allowing the tears to beckon her until she was too drained to move anymore, the visions of Marcy's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry letter stuck out distinctly in her head, as if it had been her own.
Marcy Narcissa "Drummond" Weasley-Malfoy
The Home Away From Home
Delivered by Neville "Lovegood" Longbottom
1st of July
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Hopefully that wasn't too confusing! I wanted everyone to have a taste of reading it before I got into all the legal mumbo jumbo
Rating: It is considered "R", even though the "R" section of the rating probably won't appear until the middle of the story.
Summary: Ginny Weasley, known now as Ginny Drummond, is living in muggle Manchester
with her two children, Marcy and Julian.
When Marcy receives her Hogwarts letter, Ginny is forced to decide if
she is prepared to return to the wizarding world and regain the life she left
behind. The only catch is the man that
she "lost" 9 years prior, her reason for running, and the possibility that his
undying love for her could be the only reason for facing life and returning to
her destiny.
DISCLAIMER: The wonderful plot belongs to JKR, all the aspects of Harry Potter belong to JKR, and again I am not receiving any sort of payment for writing this fanfiction other than personal fulfillment and a wonderful way to twiddle my thumbs until the coming 6th book.