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Cat and Mouse: The Chase
By Ela-chan

Exactly who's the cat, and who's the mouse?

Chapter Five

Suspicious, suspicious

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The rest of the summer felt like it collapsed on its hands and knees and crawled, agonizingly slow, forced and unwilling. More meetings with other 'sophisticated' parties of people were very frequent through it all, thoroughly irritating me to hell and back. They, and there were various numbers of people who came, stayed from a wide range of times, from an hour, to the whole day, stretching into the night. And with each and every meeting, Mother introduced me, and then promptly sent me to my room, without looking or sounding remotely rude in front of the guests.

Oh, how I long to break something in this forsaken house, preferably one of her damn near irreplaceable China pieces.

I guess she either wanted to avoid having another one of my 'blatant misbehaviours' or she had not the heart to scold me as fiercely as she did the night of the Potter's visit. Even though I highly doubt the latter, I never jumped to conclusions out-loud, for fear of having one of the maids snitch on me.

I spent most of my time sprawled on my bed, alone, feet suspended in mid-air, and going over my fifth year notes rather absently, flicking through them but not registering a single a word. I had given up when I mistook a Panda Kidney for Professor McGonagall's first name. Making that mistake, of course, made me think twice about having thoughts of vicious death plots, about someone with a name starting with J, that kept me so occupied that my eyes betrayed my mind.

I had earned a total of fourteen O.W.Ls, and I can surely say that, when Mother had knew about them, it was one of the very rare occasions that I witnessed a genuine smile reach her eyes. It was usually, 'You can do better, Lillian,' whenever I did something above average, but this time, I got a smile from her.

I don't know why it makes me feel like a bubble of satisfaction welled in my chest when her lips curved into a gesture of approval. Maybe because I hardly accomplish things that were ever good enough for her? I don't know. And I bloody well gave up pondering about that a long time ago. Too much stress for a young mind, I tell you.

Anyway, enough of that.

The day that Diagon Alley must be visited finally came.

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I knocked on the door thrice before opening it, and instantly regretted it the moment I set foot inside.

For what reason? I was about to find out.

A fierce glare met my eyes, catapulting me out of my wits rather violently. I flinched, and recoiled slightly, remembering vaguely the rule Mother had told me countless a time.

'Come when you're called upon.'

Mother had never called me up, at all. Bloody ever lasting hell. I could literally feel the delicate hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end, as if they shared the feeling of sudden fear every other particle of my body was drowning in.

This will not be good.

She must have seen the rather obvious fear that sprang in my eyes, igniting a flame of anxiety and apprehension. Her own emerald ones softened, and a reassuring smile twitched on her lips gracefully, as if saying 'I'll let you off this time'. I relaxed, a feeling of intense relief sweeping over me, and I suddenly felt grateful for the word 'mercy'.

I ignored the sudden nagging of 'Forgive the Potter Arse and snog him already' and slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I was pretty sure Mother heard the loud grinding of my teeth as I tried quite aimlessly to forced disgusting images of his lips and mine locked together in a passionate game of tongue hockey.

Spare me.

'Come here, daughter,' Mother said softly, jolting me out of the corners of my thoughts. I obeyed without missing a heartbeat, and knelt in front of her. She placed a dainty hand on my head first, and then tilted my chin so I faced her. A soft kiss was placed on my forehead, and she patted my cheek affectionately.

'What is your purpose, child?'

I grimaced inwardly.

She sounded like I was trading salt and red meat, for God's sake!

'Term is starting soon, Mother –' I found myself blurting out.

'I'm well aware, Lillian.'

'— and I need to get my supplies.'

She blinked. 'Oh.'

Mother looked thoughtful for a moment, and then offered a grin. My stomach twisted nervously. She has to have reason to smile at me like that.

I'm officially queasy.

'Very well, Lillian,' she said, and rose gracefully. I scrambled up, a little clumsily, I might add, but Mother didn't see. She was still lost in thought. My nervousness heightened.

I don't like this.

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