Summary: Charlie got to play hero with the girl he fancied, Lily wrote about her first fight with James, and Harry discovered the charm of a redhead.
Pairing: Charlie/Tonks friendship, Charlie/Penelope, Lily/James, Harry/Ginny (Yes, I finally gave in and wrote this pairing. I honestly don't mind Harry with any girl except Hermione, but my storyline only works with Ginny – sorry to Fezria and Mrs. Hugh Grant, who are D/G fans).
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is still the genius behind Harry, Hogwarts, and co., and Richard Curtis wrote Love, Actually. I certainly am not profiting from this. I'm just a fan who wants to give a love-focused angle on Harry Potter.
A/N: Thank you so much for those who reviewed! I'm just awful at updating, aren't I? Well, hopefully you enjoy this chapter. THANK YOU SO MUCH for those of you who reviewed. Glad to know that I've promoted the movie – which really is wonderful – as well as got you to love my choice of pairings.
Chapter 5: A Dragon with a Cold, the Silent Treatment, and Discovering a Red-Headed Bond
Dear NYMPHADORA,
First of all, I would just like to say: I CAN NOT BLOODY BELIEVE YOU. But I've always known that you're barking, so I shouldn't be shocked.
You've asked the bloke to move in with you?
Well, I suppose you do have to start somewhere. After all, it's not like you haven't fancied him for the past, oh, say, SIXTEEN YEARS…
Ah, Tonks, there's really nothing for me to say except: Good luck. I do want you to be happy, but do watch out for yourself, OK? Keep in mind that he'd just lost his best mate, which means that a relationship, even with a corking bird like you, may be the last thing he wants.
Still… If Lupin were to look for a girlfriend, then I actually think that you'd be perfect for him. A clumsy, cheerful nutter like you might just be exactly what he needs.
Now, don't tell me that I've never given you any compliment.
And after that crack you made about my love life too!
I'll have you know, my dear NYMPHADORA, that I've just met someone.
Yeah, yeah, don't fall off your chair.
Actually, knowing you, you probably just did.
Anyway, her name's Penelope…
Charlie looked up from the letter he was writing Tonks upon hearing someone call his name.
One of his fellow dragon-handlers, Archie, popped his head through the bedroom door and grinned, "Now who are you writing the novel to, eh, Charlie? C'mon, mate, we can use a hand. Betty's coughing up masses of fireballs and none of us can seem to put her down."
Charlie chuckled and put the letter away, making a mental note to finish it later on tonight, "Ah, but that's because she only responds to my gentle, soothing touch."
"Yeah, yeah, we know you're brilliant, Charlie. Now hurry up!"
Charlie grabbed his wand, pulled on his thick coat, and followed Archie out to the chilly Romanian winter.
"So what's the verdict anyway?" he asked as they both walked through the field, ice crunching underneath their boots.
Archie was nursing the top of his blonde head which, as Charlie noticed, was noticeably singed; looked like he didn't dodge those fireballs too well.
"Well, the doc's been out to see her and it's as we've feared," he took a dramatic breath before breaking the news, "The Northern Flu. She'll be fine as long as we keep up the coal treatments."
They both reached the clearing where Betty was resting. Betty, of course, was a dragon – a particularly beautiful Antipodean Opaleye to be exact. She came down with a dreadful illness a couple days ago; fireballs uncontrollably spewing out of her nostrils, continual loud growls that irritated the other dragons, all the lovely works.
Most unfortunately for her carers, another prominent symptom of the Northern Flu was insomnia. Needless to say, Charlie and his mates had been sleep-deprived for the last few days, trying to keep Betty from blazing everything in sight by her flaming, err, 'sneezes'.
Not that Charlie terribly minded staying awake until dawn – because that was usually when Penelope came in.
Penelope was the niece of the Romanian family who cooked meals for the reservation. She arrived about a month ago from what Charlie figured was the City; they told him that she'd come to experience working in the countryside.
Being enthusiastic dragon-handlers that they were, Charlie and his mates rarely had time to sit down and have a proper lunch. Penelope's duty for the past three weeks had been to deliver sandwiches and juices to them in the field.
First time he met her, Charlie immediately felt an odd sense of familiarity; like he'd met her before, or perhaps, like he knew her in a previous life, if there was such a thing. Charlie could not help but notice that she was also very pretty, of course, with her long, curly, black hair.
Like any gentleman would, he tried engaging her in friendly conversation, despite the fact that his Romanian was quite abysmal (adeptness in foreign language had never been Charlie's strongest point). But Penelope was a woman of little words. She always replied to his enquiries in fast, short sentences in Romanian, which he could hardly follow. Charlie didn't know whether it was her English or perhaps she just didn't like him. It didn't matter to him though, because there was just something about her…
For one, she was very different to the sort of girls that normally graced the reservation (butch, enthusiastic dragon-tamers with more than one bald spot on their heads, courtesy of their pets' fire breaths). Penelope was fine-featured and graceful; a true lady, who, true to words, held many mysteries.
But that wasn't the only thing that made him fancy her. Having noticed what kind of sandwiches he liked, she always reserved some specially-made ones for him (roast beef, boiled egg, cheese, tomato, and lettuce on rye, with a generous spread of seeded mustard and a sprinkle of chilli powder). Even when he was late for lunch and there was hardly anything left on her basket, he'd found that she'd put aside at least two packs just for him. She never said anything about it, but she always gave his food with a slight smile that never failed to make him feel all warm inside.
Charlie realised the absurdity of falling for a girl he hardly knew – and with whom he could barely communicate – but he could not help it. He'd been meaning to ask her out for the past couple of days and, though he didn't know it yet, today would prove to be the perfect day to do just so.
He was in the middle of nursing Betty, who looked thoroughly miserable, when he noticed Penelope walking towards them with a basketful of sandwiches in her arm.
Beside him, Archie rubbed his hands in anticipation, "Excellent. Lunch has arrived. I'm starving."
Charlie was about to make a crack about the bottomless pit that was Archie's stomach when a fellow handler noticed something. "Hey, she's heading straight for Betty's fireballs. Somebody should warn her."
They began calling out to Penelope to watch out, but she didn't appear to notice them; Betty's massive frame was shielding them from view.
Charlie realised that Penelope was not going to hear them in time. She was already ten metres from Betty and he knew that a dragon's fireball could easily reach up to fifteen. Plus, with Betty's flu, the force of the flame would easily burn Penelope to cinder.
He could see the tell-tale signs of smoke in the dragon's nostrils and even feel the prickling heat that came before each exhale; the next fireball was within seconds.
On instinct, Charlie took off from behind Betty and bolted towards Penelope, shouting out warnings to her.
She looked up at him in surprise before being roughly tackled down. And not a second too soon, as Betty's flame blasted just over their heads.
Relieved as they undoubtedly were at escaping with their lives intact, both could not help noticing one big downside to their present situation; for Penelope was near a teeny, tiny pond when Charlie unceremoniously, but heroically, shoved her out of harms' way.
When asked later, those dragon-handlers who were muggle-born could have sworn that Charlie and Penelope's escape plunge into ice-cold water was the stuff of movies.
Now, immersed in near-frozen water, Penelope felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs by a massive slab of ice. Her black curls lie flat on her head and her soaked clothes clung to her body like a frozen sheet of plastic wrap. Beside her, Charlie struggled to stand as he pushed dripping red hair away from his eyes. His bones and joints felt like they were pricked by a million ice needles.
"Are you alright?" Charlie said in his best Romanian.
Penelope, still shocked, replied instinctively in English, "I think so. What happened?"
Surprised that she responded in English, Charlie spoke slowly, "You were walking straight into Betty's line of fire there. A half-second late and we would have been both burned crisp."
"You saved me."
"That I did."
In the distance, they could hear Charlie's mates coming over to see if they were alright; some of them had managed to subdue Betty.
Penelope looked at Charlie and didn't know what to say. This was the first time she'd faced mortal danger (well, she did have that experience with the Basilisk, but she honestly did not remember anything because of the petrification). What do you really say to someone to whom you owe your life?
Before she could say anything though, she felt something brushed up against her legs. She jumped.
"Oh, there better not be eels here," she said in Romanian at the same time that Charlie said in English, "Try not to disturb the eels."
Penelope looked at Charlie's cheeky, grinning face and groaned. She knew then that today would be a very long day.
Speaking of very long days, back at Hogwarts, Harry felt like today had been such a day. That was why he'd decided to retreat to his favourite corner in the library with his mum's diary in tow.
So far he'd read about one month's worth of her life. Harry felt immensely grateful that Lily was such an avid writer who filled her diary almost every day. He'd found everything he read to be extremely fascinating. Not only was he learning new things about his mum (like, for example, how she was quite good at playing the muggle instrument violin), but he felt like he was getting an insight into the weird workings of a girl's mind.
If only he had this handy while he was going out with Cho. Not that Harry thought he'd completely grasped girls now; he just felt like he'd learned a few valuable lessons.
For instance, a girl would never be amused, to say the least, if a bloke honestly forgot his Hogsmeade weekend plan with her – quite reasonably so in Harry's opinion – to do last-minute Quidditch practice with his mates. Apparently, his dad had once failed to meet his mum for a date and was punished by several days of silent treatment, along with a show of Lily's overly-friendly chats with Richard Parry II, a Ravenclaw prefect James could not stand.
I CAN NOT believe James! I just can not believe him!
I know that this book is for writing all the good things in my life, but since it is also my only diary, it simply must do for now.
Anyway, back to my previous point: I CAN NOT BLOODY BELIEVE JAMES!
He left me waiting today for TWO SODDING HOURS! I looked like an idiot, sitting there all alone with a bloody ribbon in my hair and dashing new emerald robes on, only to find him, two hours later, whooping and wheezing across the Quidditch field with his mates.
If steam weren't coming out of my ears then, it really should have.
I CAN NOT believe him! We've discussed this Hogsmeade trip over and over for the past two weeks. Granted, I really haven't seen him much this week because homework's been piling up, but he really should have remembered! It was our one month's anniversary!
Note to self, Harry thought, DO NOT forget anniversaries.
Not only did he not remember, but he actually thought he could fix it by simply acting cute and innocent afterwards. Can you believe he had the nerve to plop his stupid head on my lap while I was trying to read, and actually said, "Hey there, foxy red. You look hot when you're angry"?
He is SUCH A BLOODY PRAT!
It takes more than sweet talk to calm this bird, mister!
So I gave him my coldest glare, roughly stood up – taking care to make sure my book THUMPED him on the head while I do – and calmly walked up to the girls' dormitory without a glance back.
Harry somehow knew that his mum's anger would not be abated by the next entry:
My father always said that if you've got nothing good to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all. Well, since I've got nothing 'agreeable' to say to James at the moment, I decided to refrain from talking to him until I do.
I've got plenty of other people to chat with; ones who would actually listen to what I have to say. Take Richard Parry II for instance. He's a nice enough bloke. Sure the 'II' on his name is a bit wonky, but at least I can talk to him about books, spells, and even music, without being interrupted by a bloody analogy on "Hogwarts' Established Hierarchy of Mischief Victims". Richard is a very knowledgeable and attentive person – which is more than I can say for some people.
To show James that I have no need for his insensitive company, I invited Richard to join me at the Gryffindor table this morning. The look on James' face was priceless when he came in and saw that his usual spot was taken. I was hoping that he'd embarrass himself by chucking a fit in front of everyone, but stupid Sirius had to drag him away to have breakfast outside. Damn! I would've enjoyed watching him steam through his meal.
Not that I care, of course. Eve told me that she's had enough of me yapping about James-the-stupid-prat all day long, but really, it couldn't have been all day because I've had such good company like Richard to keep me occupied. I wasn't even thinking about what's-his-name.
Back at Hogwarts Library in the present day, Harry thanked whatever lucky stars were out there that his mum came to her good senses and forgave his dad. He shuddered to think how his name could have been Harry Parry, or even worse, Dicky III!
Shuddering in spite of himself, Harry read on. Apparently, by day two and three, Lily had admitted to her diary that "Richard was becoming a rather boring git" and that she was starting to miss James. The trouble was that James had turned the tables on her and was now giving her the silent treatment.
At first, he was desperate to make up with her – even going so far as to charm a couple of first years into singing her favourite song, with the chorus changed to say, "Forgive James, Lily, oh, won't you forgive James, Lily." Marlene and Juliet had practically ordered her to make up with James after having the misfortune of being at the corridors with her when the makeshift choir attacked, but Lily's stubbornness stopped her from giving in when the time was right.
Now, three days on, it looked like James was tired of grovelling and had decided to give her a taste of her own potion. Lily was frustrated and realised that, if she wanted to end this, she'd have to make the first move.
Not talking to James was driving me mad! I tried sitting next to him during lunch today, but before I could say anything, he called out to Remus, who was just leaving the table, and went off with him.
So when Juliet tipped me that he and Sirius were studying in the library tonight, I decided to just confront him and make him speak with me.
I was so nervous it felt like a puffskein was wedged in my throat. On the way in, I passed Sirius, who gave me the dirtiest look …
Huh.
Now that I think of it, Sirius hasn't been talking to me either. Actually, he hasn't been talking to me ever since James and I got together! That's odd – and rather a shame, considering, well … considering Sirius was the first person I met at Hogwarts. Hmm … Most likely he hates me for taking his best mate away – he needn't worry, really, because all James does is talk about him! I'll look into this later; ask Remus perhaps.
As I was saying, I was sick to my stomach as I approached him. As much as James likes me fiery and rattled, I didn't think he'd appreciate me going off at him for giving a reciprocal silent treatment – I really should have forgiven him when he emerged in the common room completely starkers, except for the words, "I'm sorry, Lils," tattooed on his chest and a bouquet of red lilies .
Me and my stupid pride!
So, anyway, I thought it best to be a bit cheeky.
He didn't once look up at me as I drew near. Gathering up all my nerves, I sauntered up to him with my most teasing smile and said,
"You know, you look at that book any closer, and someone might mistake you for a bookworm instead of a Quidditch star."
Surprised at hearing those words voiced out loud, Harry instinctively looked up.
Bright red hair filled his vision as Ginny stood in front of him with a teasing smile on her face. For a second or two, he actually thought he'd been transported to his dad's body and was now looking at his mum. So surprised was he that it took a moment for him to reply.
"Wh-What?"
"Nothing. You just looked so serious in your reading that I just had to tease you. Would you mind if I joined you?"
Harry slightly shook his head and Ginny pulled up a chair across from him. While she did that, he glanced at his mum's diary and felt a strange tingle in his spine.
What Lily had said to James in the library was exactly what Ginny just said to him!
Before he could revel in the remarkable coincidence, Ginny piped up. "So, what are you reading?" she asked with a friendly smile.
Looking at her with the utmost amazement, Harry held up his mother's book and replied distractedly, "My mum's diary."
"Yeah? Anything interesting so far?"
"Heaps."
He continued to stare wordlessly at her.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Harry blinked and snapped himself out of it. "Sorry. It's just that, the thing you said before, have you heard anyone else say it?"
"Do you mean the 'bookworm' comment? Not really. It was just one of those smashing things my bright little redhead came up with at spur of the moment." She chuckled, "Why?"
"I don't know if this makes sense, but … at the moment when you said it to me, I was reading my mum saying the exact same thing to my dad."
Her eyes grew wide. "But that's impossible! You've got it written down there, have you?" Ginny leaned across the table to look.
"Yeah, see? Right over there."
They stared at each other for a moment, at lost of what to say.
"That is really weird," Ginny finally said, sitting back down.
"Exactly."
"A bit eerie."
"Scary."
They grew silent again.
One infinity.
Two infinity.
Three –
"So what else have you learned about your mum, if you wouldn't mind me asking?"
Glad to be moving on from the disturbing incidence, Harry told her all about the cool things he'd been discovering about his mum. Ginny was particularly interested about the secret compartment in the girls' dormitory, which Lily and her friends had used to stash extra sweets, notes, and robes. Apparently, she happened to be staying in Lily's old room this year and was keen to use the extra space.
Harry also told her how his mum's diary was giving him nifty insights into girls.
"So you're an expert now, eh, Harry?"
"Not even close, Gin," he grinned. "There are loads of things about you lot that still stump me. Like my mum, for instance. She was angry at my dad for forgetting their one month's anniversary –"
Ginny nodded, "I'm not one to fuss about dates, but I know loads of girls who do."
"– Yeah, well my mum was one of them. Or maybe she was just ticked off that my dad forgot about their date. Either way, instead of telling him that she was miffed, she just stopped talking to him!"
"Ah … The classic silent treatment." Ginny looked at him knowingly.
"You've tried it with, er, Michael?"
"Sure, whenever he was being a prat and hounding me about my 'deep, deep down feelings'." She made a face at that. "Oh, and that other time when he said that you were maybe 'not quite right in the head'. I was so angry I stopped talking to him for a week."
Harry nodded. "From my mum's diary, I get that you'd probably just wanted him to suffer and pay for his mistakes, but sometimes, the situations are not that obvious and, well, we blokes aren't mind-readers. I rather if you'd just tell me what's wrong."
Ginny smiled, "I suppose most girls expect boys to be sensitive enough to realise what was wrong without being told. Tell you what, though, Harry. I promise that I, at least, will always tell you whenever you've crossed me."
"I'd appreciate that, Gin," he said grinning.
Harry found himself truly enjoying this closer friendship with Ginny. Other than Hermione, he hadn't met any other girl, in whom he could confide comfortably. He certainly didn't think Ginny would be – considering she was dead terrified of talking to him in the first three years they knew each other. But then, their shared experience of having been possessed by You-Know-Who and the ordeal at the Department of Mysteries last year really created a genuine bond between Harry and Ginny.
Plus, there was now this bizarre link between her and his mum. Harry never realised it until now how much Ginny's red hair reminded him of his mum and how much it looked … becoming on her.
In the silence of the library, Harry heard the unmistakable growl in Ginny's stomach as clear as Peeves' shrieking singing in the dead of the night.
"Hungry?"
"I'm feeling a bit peckish actually. Want to nick down to the kitchen with me? I'm desperate for that delicious Pumpkin Pie we had for dessert tonight."
Harry was already gathering up his things. "I can definitely scoff down some Pumpkin Pie."
"Ooh, we should also find something to wash it down with. I don't know why, but I'm craving for some kind of … Orange Fizzy Drink." Ginny said excitedly as they walked out of the library.
"I think Dobby can probably arrange that." Harry smiled as he noticed how Ginny's red hair somehow seemed brighter when she's animated. He suddenly remembered something his mum wrote about his dad.
"Hey, Gin. Has anyone ever given you any redhead-related nicknames, like 'foxy' or 'red'?"
A/N: What do you think? Though I currently live in Australia, I speak American-English. So it's quite hard for me at devise J.K.-style conversations between the characters. I'd love to hear what British-born speakers think of them.
A/N2: Yes, Penelope is who you think she is. I'll explain it in the next chapter, though I welcome any theory you have. I really enjoy writing the Charlie/Tonks friendship. I see them as having similar personalities. Still, I've always shipped Charlie with Penelope. Don't know why! 'Hope none of you totally detests it.
A/N3: Like I said before, I've never read Lily/James fics (though I have nothing against them). So I've taken much liberty at portraying them. What do you think of their fight? And how they made up?
A/N4: Similar to L/J, I don't read much Harry/Ginny fics (minor characters are my specialty). But I've always loved how Ginny has red hair like his mum. It's not really because I want Harry to have an Oedipus complex. I just think that, since Lily died when Harry was an infant, he probably only remembered little things about her – like perhaps, her bright red hair. I'd like to think that the sight of long, red hair would remind him of the comfort of family and home. So yeah, go HMS Orange Crush! Tell me what you think!
A/N5: No one got the Love, Actually reference from chapter 4. It was Luna humming 'Love is All Around', which is pretty much the theme song for Love, Actually and was sung in the movie by the character Billy Mack. For this chapter … well, anyone who's seen the movie probably notices how one of this chapter's subplot is almost a direct rip-off from the movie.
