Disclaimer: Gee, haven't I don't this before? I own no part of Harry Potter. I own my plot and Brynn Flatley. That's it.

Chapter Seven

"Happy Birthday to me, you're an old woman now, happy birthday to me..."
Brynn sang to herself in the shower. Today she turned twenty-four, which made her seven years older than Mr. Draco Malfoy, her date for the Valentine's Ball.
She switched tunes: "And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know..."
As she flew on her broom, she continued singing songs from The Graduate. She felt like a positive cradle robber, but she'd had to accept Malfoy's invitation—after all, when you're positively smitten with someone you don't turn down their formal invite.
As Brynn stepped into the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, she knew that Draco Malfoy was not exactly the best person to be obsessing over. After all, Voldemort was back, and Draco's father, Lucius, was a known Death Eater; therefore, even if she'd felt comfortable enough with Draco to tell him about the Order, she wouldn't be able to for fear he would divulge the information to his father. There was also the age gap, which didn't seem so significant at the moment when compared with Voldemort's return.
These things didn't seem to matter. Even though she knew Draco to be the resident Sex God of Hogwarts, this didn't seem to faze her. Maybe she could teach him a thing or two...
Naughty girl! she admonished herself as she knocked quietly on the door to the kitchen. You shan't think dirty thoughts of Draco...well, not right this second.

Fred Weasley threw open the door. "BRYNN!" he exclaimed, hugging her fervently. "We've missed you!" George appeared and did the same. Brynn had the nagging feeling that they thought maybe now that Sirius was out of the picture...

Hermione gave her a zealous hug and wished her a Happy Christmas, as did Ron. She avoided Harry purposely: she felt they ought to have their own private chat after breakfast, and there was also a special gift she wanted to give Harry. Everyone chatted over their Christmas breakfast, exchanging anecdotes from school to Fred, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George divulged great information about their new joke shop in Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

"I said, 'I don't care what kind of class you teach, I will not stop selling these!'" Fred vehemently related to his parents. "As if we're supposed to stop the students from using the head-bonker Frisbees."

Mrs. Weasley looked agitated and turned to her husband. "Let's all open gifts as a family, shall we? After I tidy up—" she waved her wand and the dishes began washing themselves—"There, I think that's satisfactory. Let's go to the study."

As they retreated to the first floor study, Harry and Brynn walked upstairs to the drawing room. "How's your Christmas been so far, Harry?" she asked as she carefully chose a seat.

"Alright." He shrugged, giving nothing away.

"I've meant to talk to you, you know."

"Sure."

"Really, I have. And I've been meaning to give you this..." She pulled the package from under her arm and handed it to Harry. "I was cleaning my room at my sister's over the summer, and I found this."

He gingerly opened the package, which had been wrapped in flying Snitches. Seeing what it was, he ravenously finished opening the package. "Oh, wow!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he flipped through the pictures. "These are great!" It was a photo album filled with pictures of Harry's parents, Sirius, Lupin, and even herself when they had been young. Brynn's mother had been a friend of James Potter's parents, so they had all played together when they were younger.

"Of course, there I am, the one in the nappy," she pointed out, gesturing to a diminutive young girl, barely two years old, who was holding a wand in one hand and had a Sneakoscope in the other. "Already an Auror, though I'd stolen my mother's wand."

"And there's my dad!" Harry exclaimed, pointing to a teenaged twin of Harry's, mimicking everything, right down to the age. "That's right. Your parents were in Sixth year when I was just a baby," Brynn said, looking through the photos. In one, Sirius and James posed with Brynn, both holding her between them. Apparently the parents had thought this could be a nice picture: Sirius and James were wearing their best clothing, and Brynn was donning a gorgeous sundress, her golden curls falling about her face. However, every few seconds James would flick Sirius in the head, at which point Brynn would hold up a comb Sirius had handed her and would yell, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
"This is so strange," Harry said, studying the photos intensely. "It's so strange that you all knew each other when you were little. I never knew that."
"Yes, it is strange. And looking back now I realize how big the age gap between us was."
"You and Sirius always seemed so close in age when you were together, though," Harry told her, grinning. "Well, actually, you seemed much wiser usually."
Brynn laughed, remembering how childish Sirius could be. "I suppose you're right, Harry. I suppose I was the adult in the relationship."
Harry paused at the next page, which was a photo of Harry's parents on their wedding day. Sirius stood beside them as best man, and Brynn, at age seven, was the flower girl. In the picture of the wedding party, they were all smiling: nothing of their coming fate was broadcast. They all looked incredibly innocent.
"They're all so happy." He said it venomously, as if it were a curse. "I can't believe it. In just a short while, everyone had had their world turned upside down."
"I know," Brynn whispered, tearing up as she turned the page and saw a twenty-one year old Sirius pick her up and give her a ride on his shoulders. He came back toward the camera, lifted Brynn and hugged her, exaggerating a kiss on the cheek and pantomimed an old man saying "Oh, my ickle, ickle Brynna. What would I do without you? My little angel..."
After seeing a picture of Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, and Brynn, she and Harry decided to stop. They hugged each other, sharing a special bond that only losing someone can bring.
He looked at her, very somberly. "You're all I've got now. Really."
She nodded. "I know, Harry. God, do I know."

Sirius's voice was still ringing in her head: My ickle Brynna. My little angel...

Merry Christmas to me.