Chapter 60
Repercussions
It wasn't until Cassie and Tonks got out of the Alley and were walking rapidly toward the twins'
shop that she realized how terrible she had been feeling in Knockturn Alley. She had suppressed,
she supposed out of sheer necessity, the feeling of evil that permeated the very air in that street.
But now that she was out of it, she noticed the difference. Tonks was muttering under her breath
the whole way and Cassie could have sworn that she heard a few choice swear words coming
form the invisible space that was Moody. Basically, it all added up to the fact that they were not
happy with her, not happy at all. Cassie could understand their being upset, but she had done what
she needed to do and she had identified one more of the conspirators. This might be the one that
broke the entire plot open, so it was worth it. And made a silent vow to herself that she would not
apologize for what she had done, no matter how much everyone else yelled at her.
That vow was tested almost immediately upon arrival at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes because
George was the one yelling the loudest when he heard what happened. Upon entering the shop,
everyone in there looked at the two "hags" immediately (and probably smelled them) and made a
quick exit. At fist, Cassie was unsure why but then remembered that both she and Tonks stunk to
high heavens. Fred, who was manning the counter while George was restocking the shelves,
waved them frantically toward the back. "Please, for the love of Merlin get back there and get
cleaned up."Cassie willingly went toward the storeroom, not particularly anxious for George to
see her in this state. She felt grungy and she knew she stunk. But she had not had a chance to
even get rid of her hood before George was back there. He moved to embrace her but then drew
back, eyes watering.
"What the . . . you didn't stink like that when you left!"
"No, she didn't!" a much nicer-looking Tonks exclaimed as she peeled off her top layer of robes
and extracted the stinky cloths from both her pocket and Cassie's, burning them quickly with that
ever-handy blue flame. "But she had to look and smell the part! Although I don't know why we
went to all the trouble to get her in disguise . . ."
"Ye're right, Tonks!" an angry-looking Moody chimed in "since she just pranced up to the scum
as bold as you please and looked at him."
"What!!!" George's face turned bright red instantly and Cassie really wished she could use the
emergency portkey to get away from this entire scene. "What did she do?"
"She walked right up to the man she thought was the right one and looked directly into his face."
Moody and Tonks went on to tell the story, although Cassie interrupted frequently because it
seemed to her that they were telling all the bad parts but leaving out the good ones.
"It's not as bad as it sounds, honestly, George. I had to. He wasn't coming out of the shop!"
"So you couldn't have waited! You should have trusted Tonks or Dung to figure out some way to
get you to have a look at him!"
Cassie bit her lip, wanting to yell and scream but thinking that it was probably not really the best
idea. He hadn't been down there, having everyone look at him, having all sorts of disgusting
things around him, knowing that at any moment . . . Well, he just couldn't understand. "Fine. I
was an idiot. Now that that's generally agreed upon, can I get out of these nasty clothes and back
to the Burrow, please!" But it was a good 30 minutes before she actually got to portkey back to
the Burrow because everyone needed a chance to yell at her, including Dung. Cassie wanted to
shoot back at him that it was rich that he should be yelling at her about her behavior, but she
didn't. She just stood still and let everyone yell. She was proud of herself in one thing, though.
Well, two things. First of all, she didn't cry, even though George wouldn't touch her (not that she
blamed him) and she could tell he was mad. Second, she never did apologize. She wasn't about to
do that, no matter what sort of guilt they heaped on her head. She had done what she needed to in
the situation, and none of them could understand.
When she finally did get back to the Burrow, she didn't say anything to the crowd gathered in the
kitchen, just stalked up the stairs and directly into the bathroom. She figured Tonks, Moody, and
Dung could tell them everything they needed to know. She was going to take a bath. A very long
bath. With bubbles. And when the water got cold, she was going to dump it out and run another
one and stay in it until she turned into a prune. If anyone wanted her before then, they would
know where she was. She actually wound up standing under a hot shower for a few minutes
before she even started running the bubble bath, realizing that she wouldn't want all that dirt in the
bath with her. She scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin with the soap and washed her hair at least
twice, wanting the black out of her hair, feeling that it was somehow dirty, too. The dirt came off
her skin all right, but of course her hair stayed black. By the time she sunk up to her neck in the
hot fragrant water, her anger had dissipated and she just let the tears that had been pricking at the
back of her eyes since she had left Knockturn Alley finally flow. She cried and cried, not even
bothering to wipe them away. It was just too much effort.
After a very long while, there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door. She didn't answer,
knowing it was locked and just wanting whoever was out there to go away. But a few moments
later, there was another soft knock and then the lock clicked and Ginny poked her head in the
door. "If you're here to yell at me, don't bother. Just go away."
"I'm not here to yell at you. I came to see if you were all right."
"I'm fine. Now go away." She knew Ginny could tell she had been crying and she turned her head
away and studied the wall.
"I brought you some clothes. I'm going to take these foul things away and burn them."
"Okay." She was studying a flaw in the tiling where whoever had installed it had mis-measured
and wound up putting a strange-sized tile in an upper corner.
"Do you want me to change your hair back?"
"No. Don't bother. Someone will just want it to be purple next week. I've actually forgotten what
color it was originally." She sniffed and studied the tile more carefully. Ginny didn't answer or
anything, just muttered something and Cassie felt a tingling in her scalp indicating that the spell
had been undone.
"I'm sorry everyone was giving you such a bad time." The tears that Cassie was desperately trying
to hold back overflowed and she kept her head turned away from Ginny, not wanting her to see
how upset she was.
"I probably deserved it."
"I don't think so. And neither do the rest of us. The adults can talk all they want about being
cautious and careful but we all know that sometimes you have to seize the moment. Harry said he
thought you were gutsy and Hermione's got her ire all up about them putting you in that situation
but not trusting you to do what's best. Ron says you were bloody brave, and I agree with him."
Cassie finally turned her head to look at Ginny.
"George is mad at me."
"Ah, that's the real problem, then?" She nodded miserably.
"I bet he's not really mad at you as much as scared out of his mind. Harry sometimes gets that
way with me. He'll get over it." Ginny sat down on the toilet lid. "See, there's something you need
to know about boys - or men, really."
"And you're an expert?"
"Well, no, but I have realized this sad truth."
"Please go on, enlighten me."
"They like to think they can be there to protect you all the time and if you are in some sort of
danger, then they feel like they've somehow failed in their manly duty and they will often take that
out on you, like you did it on purpose."
Cassie laughed softly. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Since when did boys make sense? Since never!" Ginny stood up and gathered the dirty robes into
her arms. "He probably would have snogged you senseless if you hadn't been quite so . . .
pungent."
"I don't think so."
"Well, we'll see when he gets home tonight. And just so you know, Dumbledore is here with more
photographs, including a few of that shopkeeper. So come down when you feel up to it."
"Is he mad at me?"
"It's sort of hard to tell with him, but I don't think so. He seems actually really happy. He said
something about it answering one of his questions quite satisfactorily."
"What does he mean by that?"
"I honestly have no idea." Ginny left with the smelly robes and Cassie looked at what she had
brought her instead. Jeans and one of her favorite jumpers and she had even thought about socks
and shoes. So, when the bath water was too cold for comfort, she got out and dried herself off,
slipping into her clothes and feeling much more human than she had a while earlier. She looked at
her hair. It was blond again although it was, of course, wet and straight. She quickly braided it
and although she didn't have any makeup with her, she thought that she looked presentable
enough to go downstairs.
She descended the steps warily, unsure of who would be waiting for her at the bottom. Actually,
no one was. The kitchen was empty and dark. There was a plate on the table though with a note
indicating that the sandwich was for her if she felt like eating. Cassie wondered what that was
about but then glanced at her watch and realized it was after 2 o'clock in the afternoon and that
she hadn't eaten anything all day except for a few bites of dry pancake several hours before. As
though it had been waiting for a signal that it would be noticed, her stomach growled and Cassie
picked up the sandwich and ate it. It was really good and she felt much better afterward. She got
a drink of pumpkin juice out of the fridge and then took a few minutes to wash and dry the plate
and cup. She knew that she was just delaying the inevitable, but she didn't care.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open into the living room, unsure of what to expect
in the way of a reception. She had thought she would see a large group of people staring at her
with accusations in their eyes, or at least with curious expressions. But instead, the room was
fairly full, but no one was even looking at her. Everyone was busy doing their own thing and
Cassie entered practically unnoticed. At some point that morning, a large Christmas tree had been
brought into the house and several people were hanging decorations on the branches. Hermione
and Ginny were stringing popcorn and Ron and Harry were busy cutting glittery paper into
interesting shapes. Professor Dumbledore was busy levitating a large star to the top of the tree
while Remus and Tonks were magically attaching candles to the ends of the branches. Charlie and
Bill were setting up a small Christmas village on the mantel where it was already snowing (handy
little charm for this time of year). She stood there for a second looking around before making a
quick beeline toward the girls and sitting down next to them.
Of course, her entrance had been noted and her momentary hope of joining in the popcorn
stringing unnoticed was dashed when Professor Dumbledore called her name and everyone
stopped what they were doing to look at her.
"Uh, hi. It looks really nice."
"Thanks." Molly moved out from behind the tree to where Cassie could see her. "Arthur always
gets the most lovely Christmas trees."
"Oh, yes. This one is lovely, Arthur." She glanced around but he was nowhere to be found.
"He's not here at the moment. He told Charlie he was going to go out to his shed to get some
Christmas presents finished up. And it's about time, too. He can't wait much longer."
"Oh. Well, I'll try to remember to tell him later." She tried to ignore Dumbledore, but it was
hopeless and a few minutes later, he was standing in front of her, but he smiled kindly and she felt
fairly confident that at least she wouldn't be yelled at.
"I've brought some additional photographs that I was hoping you would be willing to view."
"Yes. Ginny told me." The two of them went into the kitchen where Professor Dumbledore sat at
the table and pulled a small packet out of his robe pocket.
"The name of the shop where you think the meeting took place is "Cadwalder's Curiosities"
because the proprietor's name is Curzen Cadwalder and you've seen the sort of things he sells. He
is well-known as a seller of dark magic items."
"Yeah, uh, yes. He seems to have a lot of that sort of thing." Cassie looked down at the top photo
of the pile that Professor Dumbledore was getting ready to show her. "That's him. He was there
that night. I'm sure of it."
"Yes. That's Curzen all right. Let me show you another photograph of him, if you wouldn't mind.
He's not the main subject of this photograph and I'd like to see if you can pick him out."
"All right." Cassie was curious. Didn't he trust her identification this time? He hadn't asked her to
do this on any of the others.
This photograph had obviously been taken in Diagon Alley, in front of a building that looked like
the bank, although Cassie wasn't sure. There was a group of wizards and witches waving at the
camera and hamming it up. Cassie didn't recognize any of them although the photograph looked
older so she doubted she was expected to. She studied it carefully. "No. I don't see him. Is he
here?" Professor Dumbledore didn't say anything and Cassie looked at the photograph again. As
the wizards and witches waved at her again she caught a movement at the side of the photo and
turned her attention away from the center. There it was again. Someone had walked out of the
frame. This time, she focused all her attention on that one spot, scrunching her eyes up to see
more detail. A wizard crossed the street behind them and then left the frame. "Is that him?" Again,
no response and she wished that she could somehow still all the movement in the foreground of
the picture to allow her to focus all her attention on the background. This time, when he moved
across the street, she stared at his face. "Yes, that's him . . . I'm, oh!" She saw, this time, what
Professor Dumbledore had obviously been hoping she would confirm. "That's the wizard with the
bad limp!" She watched him cross the street again and again, remembering how one of the men
three weeks ago had hunched over, dragging his foot behind him. "That's him. I'm positive."
Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "Yes. I was hoping that this was the man you described. When you
first mentioned the limp I had someone else in mind completely. But after checking his alibi and
connections, I had discarded my original idea So, I was at a loss as to who it could be until
Moody told me you had identified Cadwalder. Then I remembered that he also has a bad limp and
he has had for years."
"Is that the question you told Ginny I had answered?"
"Yes. That limp had been nagging at me. There aren't that many wizards around with limps that
severe as healing even badly broken bones is quite simple for anyone with a modicum of medical
magical training. However, certain types of wounds are resistant to magical healing and I thought
that this must be one of them. But I was at a loss of where to start looking, so I am pleased that
particular piece of the puzzle has been found." Professor Dumbledore indicated the other
photographs in the stack.
"These are some other photographs of known family, friends, and business associates of
Cadwalder. I was hoping that you would be willing to look at them." As Cassie was beginning to
expect, she was able to identify no other wizards in the photographs, even though she tried really
hard to look at each face carefully, hoping that a cursory glance had allowed her to overlook them
to begin with. But no. She was positive that none of these men had been in Knockturn Alley that
night.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I don't recognize anyone else."
"No need to apologize. You are doing quite well as it is. We'll find everyone soon, I'm sure."
"And we have whatever potion it is you're making if we need it later."
"Yes . . . there is that." Cassie felt a small prickle of nerves at his words. He didn't seem as
confident now as he had when they had spoken earlier about this. But then he said, "Yes. Yes."
And she felt a little better. "Miss Robinson, I just want you to put this out of your mind as much
as possible now for a few days. Enjoy Christmas. It's a magical time of year and some Christmases
. . . well, some are particularly special and should be savored like a precious gift, not rushed or
ignored."
"Um, okay." This was a strange conversation and she wasn't sure how to answer him.
"There are still some Christmases in my long life that I look back on and treasure. Do you find
that hard to believe?"
"No. I mean, I'd never thought about it. All Christmases tend to sort of blur into one for me." Of
course, she knew this one would be special because of George and everything. She just wasn't
sure she wanted to admit that to the Headmaster.
"Perhaps. But will you do as I ask?"
"I'll try." His eyes twinkled at her and she could feel herself blush.
"Are you two finished?" Molly bustled into the kitchen. "Because I really need to start dinner if
we hope to eat tonight but if you need more time, I can wait a little longer."
"No, we're done, Molly. I'm sorry to make your evening more difficult."
"Nonsense. And you will be staying for dinner." She glared pointedly at Professor Dumbledore. "I
know for a fact that the house-elves have the week off and that you'll be just surviving on
whatever you can nick from the kitchens. I'm not taking no for an answer." The Headmaster put
up his hands in surrender.
"If you insist." He smiled at Cassie and winked and Cassie wondered if he had arranged to be
there at dinner on purpose. Molly was a very good cook.
Cassie stood up and started helping with dinner, which was going to be fried chicken, a family
favorite. Molly was cooking enough for a small Army and when a few moments later Ginny and
Hermione came in to help, Cassie was glad to see them. An hour later Molly had Cassie start
setting the table; Cassie had to count twice before she knew how many plates to set. Fourteen.
She looked at the small table and hoped Molly could expand it large enough to fit that many
people, not to mention the huge amount of food that was ready to go on. "Molly, I need to set 14
plates. Could you expand the table, please?"
"I'll take care of it." Hermione waved her wand at the table and it expanded to just about fill the
entire kitchen. "And we'll need some chairs, too."
"Hermione! The gravy's burning!" Ginny yelped and both girls turned back to their work at the
stove. Cassie set the table carefully, retrieving cups and silverware, napkins and salad plates as she
watched the three witches at work on the dinner. She smiled to herself vaguely. It wasn't that she
couldn't cook a meal like that, it was just that they were faster by using magic. Molly hadn't
minded Cassie's slower ways when it was just five of them for dinner, but with the house full of
people and meals needing to be prepared and cleaned up quickly, more and more often she found
herself doing something like this, setting the table. And she couldn't even do that by herself
because the table needed to be expanded and she had no way to get the extra chairs they would
need before everyone could sit down. Of course, she could just sit down in one of the chairs
already there and let everyone else take care of conjuring their own for the evening. They could
all handle it.
George and Fred apparated into the kitchen just as Molly was putting the last of the meal on the
table and even though George looked at Cassie through the crowd, they didn't have a chance to
talk before Hermione offered a quick grace and everyone dug in. This was the first meal in a long
time they hadn't managed to sit next to each other, either, but as she had sat in the "real chairs"
she had been flanked rather quickly by Ron and Harry who both said they didn't do furniture very
well. Remembering what Ginny had said about the disappearing beds Ron had conjured once,
Cassie believed them. The food was good and the company was pleasant, but Cassie would have
ranked this meal as one of the more depressing ones she had eaten at the Burrow. She kept
looking at George and he wouldn't meet her eyes. Then, sometimes when she was taking a bite of
food and her attention was on her plate, she would feel his eyes on her but when she would look
up again, he was talking to Fred on the one side or Tonks on the other. Honestly, she thought, if
someone asked her later what she had eaten that night, she may have said sawdust for all of the
pleasure it gave her. However, she forced a smile on her face and heard herself talking politely to
people who asked her questions and she heard herself complimenting Molly on dinner. As if
watching herself from a distance, she also saw herself helping with dinner clean-up when everyone
pitched in to get the dishes done as quickly as possible so that they could relax in the living room
and enjoy the Christmas decorations that were now complete.
As she watched Harry dry the dishes efficiently with a drying spell before Ron directed them into
the cupboard, Cassie smiled to herself, remembering how bad George was at doing this little
homemaking magic. He would have to practice before he and Fred could move out on their own if
they had any ambition to ever do so. She looked around the crowded room to tell him this, but he
wasn't in sight. "Where's George?" she said to Fred, not caring that he smiled and winked.
"Don't know for sure but both he and Ginny headed out of here a few minutes ago."
"Oh. What did they-"
"Don't know. Sorry. Maybe it's something for Christmas?"
"Maybe." She smiled at him faintly. She wanted to go find George. For one thing, she really
wanted to clear the air between them. What Ginny had said earlier made a lot of sense, but she
wanted to tell him - well, she didn't know what, but she would figure it out when the moment
came. They weren't in the living room. She climbed up the steps listening carefully for voices. She
didn't know if they actually were talking together, but she thought they probably were. Of course,
they could have used a silencing and locking spell on any door in the house and she'd have no way
of ever finding them. It wasn't until she reached the twins' floor that she heard George's voice and
she walked eagerly down the hall toward it. If Ginny was in there, then she could go in there to
talk to him and maybe Ginny would even help get things straightened out between them. She was
a sensible girl and a good friend.
The door was partly open, but the two voices carried clearly out into the hall. Cassie had raised
her hand to knock when she heard her name and paused, figuring she had better not interrupt
them if they were discussing Christmas presents.
"You need to tell Cassie that."
"She already knows."
"No she doesn't. She was crying this afternoon and do you know why?" There was no answer, but
Cassie thought George may have just shook his head. "Because she thought you were mad at her.
With everything else going on, that was her biggest concern."
"Well, I-"
"She makes a big point of telling everyone that she knows the two of you don't have a future
together, George. But I think she's fallen for you in the worst way - and you need to tell her what
you are feeling before it goes any further."
"What do you mean?" His voice was low, almost growling.
"I don't want you breaking her heart! So if you have no intention of this going any further than a
casual kissing fest, you need to -"
"You know what, Ginny! I'm sick and tired of everyone assuming that I am some sort of a cad!
You're like the 20th person to try and warn me off her!" Cassie didn't know what to do. She knew
that she should turn right around and go back downstairs, but her feet wouldn't move. It was like
they were glued to the floor and she wondered if this section of carpet was set up as a sort of trap
to catch people wanting to go into the room without permission.
"Well, George, can you blame us?"
"I sure as hell can!"
"George, I love you. You know I do. And I-"
"I'm just a big goofball, right? That's what Hermione said! And she may be right but I am not
goofing off about Cassie. I like her. A lot. Why isn't anyone ever worried about what she is going
to do to my heart when she leaves? Huh?"
"I guess -"
"I was scared out of my wits today when she was gone! She has no way to defend herself! Do you
understand that? She goes off on these little missions with nothing, not even a fake wand, to
defend herself! She needs a . . . gun, yeah that's what it's called! And then she comes back to the
shop and says she didn't do anything wrong?! How was I supposed to react? If something
happened to her, I would just . . . I would just . . . ." His voice trailed off and the next few
sentences were muffled and Cassie couldn't hear what he said or what Ginny said in response.
Cassie stared at the door, her throat thick with unshed tears and she wanted nothing more than to
push open the door, rush inside, and wrap her arms around him. But she didn't. She pulled her feet
off the carpet and found they came away quite easily. She turned around and went back down the
stairs.
"Didya find 'em?" Fred asked. The room was almost empty now. There were only a few more big
pans to wash and most of the cleaning crew had already abandoned ship.
Cassie shook her head. "No. I don't know where they went."
"They'll turn up soon, I imagine."
"You go on out into the living room and relax, dear. You've had a tiring day." Molly smiled kindly
at her and Cassie smiled in response, but pushed open the door to the living room and found an
empty spot on the couch. She drew her legs up onto the cushions with her and wrapped her arms
around her knees, resting her chin on them. One thing George had said kept playing over and over
again in her mind. "Why isn't anyone ever worried about what she is going to do to my heart when
she leaves?" That was a legitimate question and she had never even thought about it. She knew he
had had girlfriends in the past and assumed that when she left he would be sad for a few days and
then face life again with his quirky brand of humor that seemed to get him through all the bad
times. She had only ever thought about protecting herself from the certain heartache, but had
actually given up that pretense a long time ago herself. She was just going to enjoy being with him
and when the inevitable heartache came, well, she would deal with that, too. But she hadn't even
thought about him. Maybe she was the one being a selfish prat. Maybe she should tell him . . .
what? That she didn't like him? Maybe even love him? He'd never believe her anyway. She was
still lost in these ruminative thoughts when the object of her attention sat down next to her,
uncaring that he pushed whoever it was sitting next to her into the arm of the couch.
He didn't say anything to her, just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her over so
that she was leaning against him. She let her knees go and she shifted so that she was more sitting
on the couch rather than curling up in a ball on it. His hand rubbed her shoulder over and over
again and although he didn't say anything to her, she relaxed into his embrace and allowed herself
to stop thinking. Like Professor Dumbledore said, some Christmases are more special than others.
And she intended to make this one as special as possible. She would deal with all of her tangled
up, jumbled emotions later.
The evening passed quickly, neither of them speaking to each other and not really saying anything
to anyone else either. The family and all of the visitors sat around talking about Christmases past
and people and places and gifts that didn't mean much to Cassie. They were happy memories for
the most part although when Harry told about his Christmases with his horrible relatives, the
room got very quiet and somber. Cassie felt a pang of embarrassment for Harry because he had
been trying to be funny, it just hadn't come out the way he planned. But Remus made a comment
that made everyone laugh and a moment later the jovial mood of the room was restored.
George never stopped touching her, though, and she felt no great need to move away from him.
He held her hand or rubbed her neck or back or shoulder. He played with the end of her braid for
a while which she actually enjoyed although normally when people did that it drove her insane.
She periodically saw people in the room looking at the two of them and when she caught a
puzzled expression or a concerned glance, she just smiled back. She was tired of trying to pretend
they weren't involved. George never hid it from anyone and it wasn't fair to him that she should
either. Most people tried to look at them slyly, like they just happened to be looking around and
their eyes fell on them and they were going to look elsewhere in a moment. Harry looked at them
directly though and smiled broadly. Cassie flushed. Ginny also met Cassie's eyes without flinching
and it was Cassie that looked away first that time, a little embarrassed about eavesdropping on the
conversation from earlier. The only one who really looked at the two of them in complete shock
and amazement and kept looking again like he wanted to make sure the touching hadn't been a
trick of the light was Ron. She tried to smile encouragingly at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes,
so she gave up after a few minutes. She wondered if George was in for another lecture later. Poor
guy.
It was quite late by the time the group started to break up. Bill was the first to call it a night,
reminding everyone that Fleur was coming tomorrow and that he didn't want to look a mess.
Charlie followed him up soon after, explaining that the time difference was brutal and that he was
completely exhausted. Tonks had looked vaguely panicked when Bill had mentioned Fleur's
eminent arrival and her noisy whispering to Hermione about wanting some help getting Bill's
room in shape in the morning made Cassie giggle to herself as Tonks practically ran into the
kitchen and they could all hear her noisy ascent of the staircase. Arthur and Molly went next and
Remus followed almost immediately as he was the last "grown up" in the room unless you
counted George and Fred, and nobody did.
All seven of them looked at each other for a minute. "I can't wait until Angelina gets here
tomorrow night," Fred groaned. "It's me and Charlie who are the bachelors this year. Usually I at
least have George to see me through."
"Don't forget Remus," Harry said. "He doesn't have a girlfriend." There was silence after this and
Harry could tell that he wasn't being told something. "Well, he doesn't . . . does he?" Ginny
whispered something in his ear and he turned beet red. "Oh. Oh. Okay. Okay. Yeah." He stumbled
for a minute and to save him from more embarrassment, Ginny stood up.
"I always like a nice cup of hot cocoa before bed when I'm home. I miss it at school." And as if by
unspoken invitation, they all adjourned to the kitchen, where Ginny handed out mugs to everyone
and started boiling the water. It was several minutes later, when they were all sipping their cocoa
in comfortable silence that Ginny spoke again.
"By the way, Cassie . . . today when you were, uh, out, I got an owl."
"Oh, really? From whom?"
"Elspeth. She wanted me to say hi to you if I should happen to talk to you or owl you over the
holidays."
"That's nice. But I guess you better not tell her hi back. Too bad. I really like her."
"Who's Elspeth?" George asked before he took another sip of cocoa.
"My roommate."
"Oh, yeah. I remember her. She's cute." Fred stirred his cocoa. "A little young for me though. Not
much of a -"
"Fred!" George scowled. "You were just talking about Angelina coming. You are a flirt! And
you're right about her being too young for you! She's Ginny's age."
"She's my age." Cassie said quietly, staring down into her cocoa cup like it would reveal the
secrets of the universe. "She's actually older than I am by a month." There was a bit of a stunned
silence.
George's hand tightened on her knee, where it had settled in the last few minutes. He smiled. "A
lot of people are under the mistaken impression that Fred and I are twins, but actually he's like
three years older than I am, just underdeveloped and scrawny for his age." Everyone laughed,
even Cassie.
"Oh, well that's okay, then. I was worried for a minute." And she smiled at him, purposely letting
her brightest happiest grin out. He reciprocated and she shoved that entire dialogue into her
subconscious, where she could deal with it later. "So, what else did Elspeth have to say?"
"Well, she's having a bit of a miserable holiday, really. Can't wait to get back to school."
"Does she miss Colin so badly, then?"
"I'm sure that's part of it, although I think her family is giving her a lot of grief over the
relationship, too."
"What's the deal?" Ron asked. "Her folks don't like hyperactive photographers?"
"No. It's just that she's a pureblood, you see." There was no need for further elaboration.
"Is he Muggle-born or half-blood?"
"Muggle-born."
"That can't be good. So they're ticked as hell?"
"Yeah, Fred. That pretty much sums it up." Ginny's voice was flat. Hermione flushed and Ron
patted her hand.
"It's too bad some pureblood families are so stupid. They miss out on some great things." Cassie
looked bemusedly at Ron. That had to be the sweetest thing she had ever heard him say. He could
sure be surprising at times. Hermione flushed a little deeper, but she looked pleased.
"What happened the week I was gone? More of the same?"
"Yeah. She got a little braver, ignored Saffron. They even had a little one-on-one time in the
Astronomy Tower."
Fred whistled sharply and looked impressed. "That had to cost some serious blunt!"
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked and since everyone else looked as confused as
Cassie felt, she looked at Fred, too.
"Uh, well . . . you know, it's usually reserved weeks in advance for the week before Christmas."
He took a long sip of cocoa as if hoping the conversation would move on while he was involved.
It didn't.
"Actually, I don't think any of us knew this. How did you?" Fred looked at George in a panic at
Ron's question and when Cassie glanced up at the boy by her side she was startled to see the exact
same look of mild concern on George's face as was on Fred's.
"Uh, well. Uh. It's common knowledge. When you get to be 7th years, you'll know. . . ." His voice
trailed off as he looked at the three other 7th years around the table. "Yeah." Fred took a deep
breath. "All right! If you must know - George and I kept the books."
"What?" Everyone asked at once and there were at least two mouthfuls of cocoa spit across the
table.
"We kept the books, the reservation books. So. There you go. It was always booked solid by
Halloween. And if someone wanted a space on short notice, and there wasn't a cancellation . . ."
" . . .you have to bribe the reservation person. It's a Ravenclaw this year." Cassie smiled faintly
when everyone else looked at her in shock.
"How much is it, George, to get a last minute spot, let's say . . . two weeks before Christmas
break?"
"Oh. I don't remember. Sorry. Not so much."
Fred answered at the same time, though, and they hadn't coordinated their stories. "10 Galleons,
minimum, and it may go up for prime locations and times."
"I see. I bet that helped keep you in quills and dungbombs, then." She stood up to go get some
more cocoa and Ginny turned in her seat to watch her go.
"Did Malfoy . . . tell you this?"
"Who else wanted to get me up in the Astronomy Tower?" She leaned against the kitchen counter
and looked at the six of them, leaving her new mug of cocoa sitting there, untouched. "He told me
he had bribed the Ravenclaw to give him a reservation. This was the afternoon of the library
thing."
"Ah. I see." Ginny sounded like she was about to launch into a long-distance curse against Draco.
George scowled in frustration and anger.
"We kept the books honestly. We didn't play favorites, and the bribes were more for a sort of
deposit to make sure they showed up than anything." Cassie raised both shoulders in a shrug.
"So it was refundable, then?" There was (of course) no reply. She sighed. "It doesn't bother me
that you kept the books, boys. It was going on long before you got there and will probably still be
going on when your great-grandchildren go to school there. I'm heading up to bed." For some
reason, she felt very tired and she wasn't up to any verbal sparring tonight. George stood up to
follow her but she just waved her hand in dismissal. "I'm beat. I'm afraid I wouldn't be good
company." Before she disappeared up the steps, though, she turned around and looked back down
at them. "Fleur is coming tomorrow, right?" Everyone looked rather disconcerted at the sudden
change of topic. "Will someone, anyone, please tell me what a Veela is before she shows up with
six heads or something and I embarrass myself by looking shocked." And then she took the final
step and left the soft light of the kitchen below as she climbed the last set of steps and into bed,
where she fell almost immediately asleep.
