Full to Bursting
In my dreams, Valentine's Day was a very different affair than it truly was each year. In my mind, there weren't crying girls and gloating girls. There weren't uncomfortable dances packed with awkward adolescents. There weren't bars stuffed with annoyed singles. There weren't young couples making obnoxiously public eyes at one another on the streets. Yes, in my head, Valentine's Day was just a reason to send an owl if you cared about someone, and no reason to worry if you didn't.
Well, nothing says "wake up to reality" like Valentine's Day breakfast at a boarding school full of teenagers. Heart-shaped pancakes. I mean really—does anyone need this? Do they? Is there any excuse for this behavior?
I ought to have followed Byron's example and not come to the great hall this morning, I groaned to myself as the owls descended. As I did most mornings, I assumed the owls had nothing to do with me. I turned to my obnoxious pancakes with determination: I was not going to think about how stupid this holiday was. No I wasn't. No I—well. Apparently I was going to get a scroll right in the middle of my obnoxious syrup. Oh well.
I fished the scroll off my plate and swabbed it with my napkin. In the process I looked forward to see a teetering pile of envelopes resting in front of me.
"Looks like you're doing well for yourself," Remus elbowed me.
"Huh?" I blinked at him. He gestured toward the pile.
"I assume those aren't for me." He clarified.
"They assuredly are not for me," Severus added from my other elbow.
"Oh good lord…" I groaned. Severus smirked. "And shut up, you two." I snapped, waving the sopping scroll for emphasis. In a huff, I turned to face front and snapped the scroll open. And, for the love of all that's holy, it started to sing.
"Ohhhhh…" I whined, slouching between them. Remus snickered openly. The scroll finally shut up and exploded into a shower of cartoon hearts, which I brushed irritably from my robes. "For chrissakes…"
"Surely the others will be every bit as entertaining." Severus muttered. I nudged him, hard. He smirked again.
"Fine." I snapped. Remus continued to snicker. I opened the top envelope on the stack. In it was a parchment heart with a thank-you note from the Slytherin quidditch team. I looked up toward them and nodded. They nodded stiffly in return. I stashed the heart by my plate and fought the urge to annoy Severus with the fact that his snakes had cut out a heart for me. I fished the next from the pile. Brandhurst…Brandhurst…oh—purple boils. That was a rough case. I stacked that one atop the first. So it went, through the cards, until the final two.
The second-to-last was from Jack, and again contained a drawing from Max. Jack sent along a volume of Imagist poetry as well, and Lana had added a little silver bracelet linked to look like a snake. I saw Severus trying to peer at it covertly, and I grinned to myself. In this Max drawing a figure I immediately recognized as Jack stood at the prow of a tall ship with billowing sails. A massive serpentine beast writhed in the water, waiting to be subdued. I folded the drawing and deposited it carefully in my robe pocket.
The final item in the pile was a slightly lumpy package that shifted alarmingly in my hands. I turned it over a few times, debating the wisdom of opening it at the table. Remus looked on with keen interest.
"Oh all right," I turned to him. "I'll do it." I tore into the paper, and was utterly shocked to have an animated heart fly out and bounce off my forehead before flopping onto the table. I blinked at it, stymied.
"Perhaps you've killed it." Severus intoned. I snickered.
"It's moving." Remus updated us. Sure enough, it was. It regained about a meter of altitude, then started to swell. I fretted. Severus pushed back from the table. Hermione got to her feet next to him and backed away even farther. Remus and I held our ground, perhaps foolishly.
Then all hell broke loose, as my father would say. The heart reached critical mass; it exploded in a nova of distressingly bright colors and discordant sound. Remus grabbed my shoulder and dove for the floor. We joined Hermione and Severus under the table and waited, with our hands over our ears, for it to stop.
At the end of the blast of sound Remus picked up the edge of the table cloth and peered out into the hall. It appeared that students nearest the door had run, while those nearest the blast had taken cover much as we had. Those toward the middle of the hall sat, their attention riveted on something unfolding right above our heads.
It didn't take long for it to become clear what that was. The unmistakable chorus of the twins' voices rang into the hall—and they were rhyming. I can't hope to recreate the poem they recited. It was by turns uncomfortable and revolting. It skated the thin line between the embarrassing and the illegal. It was genius. I was paralyzed with laughter, as was Remus. Hermione giggled up her sleeve. Severus appeared to be quaking. The students were roaring their approval, and I was too afraid to stand up and take stock of the rest of the staff. At last, I heard students start to shuffle their things and head for the classrooms. Then came a series of heavy footsteps.
"You al'righ' down there, Professors?" Hagrid asked, lifting the tablecloth. Severus grunted something and helped Hermione to her feet before striding off. Remus and I emerged, brushing at our robes.
"Suppose so, Hagrid." I laughed. "Those boys…"
"I don't know how Molly handled them," Remus said, smiling and shaking his head.
"They're bright ones, they are," Hagrid agreed. I gathered the pile of opened valentines from the side of my plate and headed for the infirmary, chuckling all the way.
Byron deigned to join me in the infirmary after lunch, during which he'd sat under the table hoping Dobby would furtively send him a treat. The two of us only had a boy with a low fever and a girl with a scraped knee to attend to all morning, so I'd gotten a good deal of my stores reorganization done. Then Eliana arrived with one of her housemates who'd given herself a sizeable burn in Herbology. I set the salve to work on my patient and turned to Eliana to dismiss her, but something in the look on her face made me pause.
"Eliana, could you walk back here with me a moment?" I put on my most motherly nurse voice. She nodded and fell in behind me. Once we got into my office I turned to her and pushed the door nearly closed. "Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yes…" she said, her eyes tracking around the walls. I wasn't buying it. I gave her a look. "Okay. No."
"Your friend won't have to stay very long. You can talk to me after I send her back to Gryffindor tower."
"Okay." Eliana bit her lip, then seemed to give an effort to appear unaffected.
"Could you sit here with Byron while I check your friend?" I asked, not truly worried about Byron in the slightest. Eliana nodded, and I was quickly able to send the girl back to her common room. I grabbed a cup of tea and handed one to the nervous girl. I sat across from her and leveled my gaze on her. "Now. What's going on?"
"Um…" she shuffled her feet on the floor, looking down. Then she sat straight. "You're going to have to leave, aren't you?"
"Why do you say that?" I stalled.
"The law. You have to leave, don't you? You don't have a ring." She peered at me. I stayed quiet, thinking of a good answer. "Jennifer said muggleborns have to leave in April if they're not married yet."
"That's right," I started. I paused to consider the next part. I took a breath and plunged ahead. "If I'm not married by the second week of April I have to leave." I paused again, wondering if that could possibly be all that was worrying her. "Is that all this is about?"
"No." Her face crumpled. "Isn't Professor Granger a muggleborn, too?"
"Yes, El, she is. But didn't you know? Professor Granger is engaged." Eliana's face smoothed over again for a moment. Then her brow wrinkled.
"So Professor Granger can stay. But you aren't engaged yet."
"No." I couldn't see any way to soften the blow, really. You want to know, kid? Here it is. "I'm not engaged, and I don't know anyone who wants to marry me. I will probably have to leave before the end of the year."
"But somebody sent you Valentines. I saw." She blurted, her jaw set.
"Those were from friends, El." I said quietly. "I don't have a reason to think I'll be able to stay."
"But it's not fair!"
"No, maybe not. But it's how it is." I rubbed a hand over my forehead, suddenly tired. "And I've still got a little time."
She looked at me dubiously. "I guess so," she said. I stood, and she did as well. I took her cup back and ushered her to the door. I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, starting when Byron shoved his nose under my hand.
"I need a drink, pup." I told him. "A drink and an explanation of that awful heart," I continued. I smirked, thinking about the four of us hiding under the table. "What do you say, boy? Want to visit the twins after work?" He thumped his tail against the floor. I checked my watch. Half an hour to go. No matter what I'm getting into or how soon I'm going to have to leave, I'm going to enjoy the time I've got left. Damn right I am.
That night I found a bottle of rather expensive cask-strength scotch in my quarters, complete with a note from Severus. To wit: "Miss Arthur: I do not sing, nor do I write poetry. Severus." I got such a swelling of glee from his gift that I had to sit down until it passed. Oh I can't wait to meet Hermione and Severus' children.
That night I also found a seat at a muggle bar in London where the music was loud and the patrons indifferent to strangers. I got absurdly smashed—beyond smashed. Irresponsibly smashed. I lost track of time. I ended up on a London street, several sheets to the wind, with nowhere to stay until I was in a condition to apperate. My bleary mind turned over a few times. The Knight Bus? No. Oh heavens no. Who's in London? My fogged brain stumbled around on this point for a few steps. Then I recalled a few faces—then a week—then a name: Grimmauld Place. Eureka.
Of course it started raining. I grumbled to myself as I walked. Stupid London. Stupid rain. Stupid rain not hard enough to be real rain, just drizzle that makes you cough and blink a lot. Stupid clammy wet shirt. After a quarter hour's walk I was more than sober enough to manage the Knight Bus, but still reticent about apperating. I stuck out my wand arm and breathed a (damp) sigh of relief when it braked in front of me. I meant to say Grimmauld to the pimply man at the front. I did. But I didn't do that. I gave the address of Harry's flat, which he'd sent to me in an owl so I could attend a meeting next week about the shoot.
So there I was, moments later, standing in the same rain outside a neat building with few lit windows; there I was ragged with rain and drinking all night. There I was with no good reason to trouble him, or anyone, with my presence. I loitered. It was late enough to be early. The street was nearly deserted. Nearly, but not entirely. In the end it was a leering man smelling of urine who drove me to take the steps toward the door and into the building. The cool staircase nearly had me shivering as I climbed to his floor. I stood there, too, for a while. Then, to my horror, the door opened.
No one appeared to be behind the sudden movement. I glared at the open door, trying to make it make sense. Then Harry appeared, clearly half-asleep and wearing only plaid boxers. I blinked at him. "Harry?" I wondered aloud.
"Anna?" He peered at me, seemingly having some of the same problems I was having. "What're you doing here?"
"I'm here…" I mumbled. "I don't know." I slumped a little, giving up.
"Come in, then." Harry said, his voice becoming clearer as he woke. He squinted at me. "You're all wet."
"S'raining." I declared, before lurching past the threshold of his apartment. He closed the door behind me and shot a drying spell at my clothes. "Thanks." I muttered. I touched a hand to the wall to steady myself as I turned to face him. "Harry," I squinted at him, "why'd the door open?"
"You're drunk." He declared. I vaguely registered that he hadn't answered my question.
"Mmhm." I closed my eyes briefly, but opened them when I started to get dizzy. "M'sorry."
"Come on," Harry wrapped an arm around my waist and led me, heavily leaning on him, to a couch.
"I didn't try to come here." I declared, wrinkling my brow.
"Where did you try to go?" Harry asked, cocking his head with an amused twist to his mouth.
"Grimmauld Place." I sighed. "Thought I could sit there until I was sober. To apperate."
"Yes, well." Harry smirked. "Sirius likes drunk women."
"Ew." I scowled. Harry laughed. I turned my face toward the arm of the couch. "Sirius likes any women." I added. Harry laughed harder.
"I should get a Quick-Quotes Quill." Harry mused. I turned to him and scowled childishly. He chuckled again. "You need to sleep, Anna."
"Yeah." I agreed. He threw a blanket to me from the back of a chair. I curled into a ball on a couch cushion and relaxed quickly into a doze. When I was just at the edge of sleep I could feel his weight leaving the other end of the couch, and could sense his hands removing my shoes. He pulled the edge of the blanket over my feet, and tugged a lock of hair out of my face.
The next morning Harry woke me by tapping my shoulder. In the echo chamber of my hangover, it felt like I was being jackhammered. I willed my sticky eyes open to see his face and nearly hollered. For a moment's blind panic I couldn't remember the circumstances that brought me to wake up with the face of my—admitted—painfully huge crush leaning over me. All I knew in that moment was his face, the morning light, and a killer hangover. And all I thought was 'oh crap, am I wearing clothes?'
"Anna. I put a hangover potion on the table when you want it." Harry said gently. I blinked at him, unable to do much more with my sleepy body. He walked off, and I slowly pulled myself upright. After I downed the hangover potion, unfortunately, the night started to come back to me. Good heavens, Arthur. How are you going to come back from this one?
I did an absurdly exacting job of folding the blanket and placing it over the chair to buy myself some time. Then I squared my shoulders and marched into the next room to face my morning-after humiliation like the adult I wish I were.
"Toast?" Harry offered when I walked into the kitchen.
"Thanks." I said, trying to formulate my next move. "Look, I'm really sorry I dropped in on you like that." Great, Arthur. That was suave.
"Don't think of it," Harry shook his head, handing me a plate of toast. "You were a lot easier to bear than Ron."
I opened and closed my mouth a few times trying to think of a response. "Thanks?" I tried.
"You're welcome." He smirked. "You said you were going to go see Sirius."
"I didn't mean that, really." I clarified. "I just thought Sirius would let me sit in his kitchen until I was sober enough to leave."
"Then what were you doing in London?"
"I didn't want to be around anyone I recognized." I paused to take a bite of toast. Harry handed me a cup of coffee. I nodded my thanks. "But here I am regardless."
"So you wanted to get drunk alone?"
"No." I frowned. "Well. Yes. Maybe." I shook my head quickly and took a sip of coffee. Harry watched me. "I didn't go out to be alone, specifically, but it looks bad for the healer from the local school to go out drinking. So I go where I won't be recognized."
"That makes sense." Harry allowed.
"And I didn't intend to get so wasted. I actually shouldn't have been." I shook my head again. "I don't know."
"What's that mean?"
"I didn't have that many drinks. I'm surprised I was that drunk. That's all."
"You weren't with anyone?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"What're you saying?" I squinted at him.
"You were in a muggle bar." He declared. I nodded. "So, there are muggle drugs."
"In the movies, maybe." I let out a bark of laughter. "Come on, Harry. Who'd want to drug me?" He just looked at me steadily. "Really, Harry."
"Just be careful," he said. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He meant well. I knew that. And I knew I'd been very stupid. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. At least I didn't try to come on to Harry. That was a near miss. I took another deep breath. Happy Valentine's Day to me.
