Chapter Fourteen: Oliver Wood's Shrine

"Hello Bell," Montague said as she opened the door to the flat half an hour later, "you look—what is that around your neck?"

Katie sighed. This was going to go well.

"Just don't tell my parents you don't recognize a crucifix," she said, opening the door reluctantly to let Montague inside, trying not to think that the last time he'd been here she'd been topless and his hands had been all over her, and they'd both learned far too much about Ange and George's body fluids and the shape of Alicia's tits.

On the couch and chairs her friends were scarfing pizza and alcohol again, watching the game. Hermione had a book in her lap and a look of boredom on her face.

"Ah, the gang is here again," Montague said, "how wonderful."

He was carrying a bouquet that was absurdly large and a small basket that Katie knew all had to be for her parents. She hadn't bought anything to the Montague dinner party.

Percy had assured her it was considered gauche in the very highest of pure-blood circles to bring gifts, but Percy had been wrong about a lot of things that night.

"Hello, Montague," Harry said easily from the couch, his arm around Ginny, who tried to smile at Montague but instead her mouth twisted back into a grimace.

"Potter," Montague said genially, "nice to see—hang on, is that peezah?"

"Yes," Katie said, "ready to go?"

Montague horrified her by wandering closer to her mates, casually, like they were all friends. "Is that the game I played with Thomas?" he said, pointing at the telly as Leeds scored and Oliver groaned.

"You're not asking about the television?" Hermione said, looking at Montague with interest.

"I've cracked a book, Granger," Montague said, but his voice was still friendly, like they'd entered an alternate universe where he was friends with them all.

"Not in Muggle studies, you didn't," George said, and the hostile note of his voice was at least a return to normalcy, "since you didn't take it, did you? So how do you know about the telly?"

"Funny enough, I can read a book outside class," Montague said, "unlike some, I suppose."

"Let's go," Katie repeated loudly, her guts churning as George opened his mouth again. Ange elbowed George and he reluctantly closed his mouth.

"I didn't know there would be peezah," Montague said wistfully, his eyes following a slice as it died painfully in Ron Weasley's mouth.

Katie had a bizarre visual pop into her head where Graham Montague had joined her inner circle of friends, which apparently now was comprised of her old Quidditch teammates, her current teammate, Percy, and Hermione, for some reason, and watched football on the telly while eating pizza and drinking beer. She felt sick. Leeds scored and the rest of her group cheered, aside from Oliver, who groaned again, and Hermione, who turned a page in her book.

"Not at my parents," Katie said, "dad probably made something healthy. He's on a kick. Want to stay here instead?"

Montague turned to her as if she'd lost her mind.

"And not meet your parents?" he said incredulously, "ditch on their offer of dinner? Bell, are you mad?"

"Some would say so," Katie muttered, thinking of everyone's reaction to her shagging Montague.

"How would your parents feel if I did that?" Montague asked, "wouldn't they hate me?"

"Hate is a strong word," Katie said weakly, feeling faint.

She had tried not to think about this ever since she'd found out it was happening, so she'd be able to sleep and function. She had tried, over and over, to picture Montague in the modest Bell family home and just couldn't. He was even dressed wrong. Black slacks and a dressy dark green shirt, his giant crest ring and shoes you'd wear to a high end office. It was possible her mum would still be in scrubs, and her dad covered in paint.

"Well, they'd think less of me for being so rude," Montague frowned, as Katie's friends cheered again, and Hermione glanced up from her book at the screen, then over to

Katie and Montague. "I can't have that, Bell. Your parents have to love me."
Katie's guts gave another painful twist. The problem was, her parents would probably love Montague. He'd be fake charming and bring presents and have good table manners and know the right wine and pretend he cared a lot for Katie, the most important part, and Katie would have to lie and say Montague had been showering her with gifts and showing up to her games and taking her out to eat, sometimes at extremely pricey restaurants. Not to mention the France trip that had probably cost in the thousands. Well. Maybe all that wasn't a lie. But she' d have to leave out the part where Montague was a lying, manipulating asshole who thought the Bells were lesser than him because of their lack of magical powers. Her parents would insist on having Montague around, would be angry when Katie dumped him, and she'd have a mess.

"Plus," Montague added, "I want to meet them."

"Sure," Katie snorted, unable to hold it in.

"I do," Montague frowned at her.

"Nobody wants to meet the parents," Katie scoffed, "you can stop lying."

Montague's frown deepened, and Oliver howled in triumph in the background when one of the Leeds players committed a foul and was tossed from the game. "Look, I'm sorry my parents were awful, Bell," Montague said quietly, presumably so they wouldn't be overheard, "I really am. You know that embarrassed me, right?"

"I know," Katie said with some heat, "I know I embarrassed you with how I acted. But—"

"Not you," Montague said, looking surprised, "don't be daft. My family embarrassed me with how they acted. I thought you knew that. We had a screaming fight after you ran off."

"Did you?" Katie said with some interest.

It was probably true. Montague had after all revealed he'd asked the house elves to make Katie her favorite cake on his own mother's birthday, and been disowned for a solid three minutes for his various disrespectful behaviors.

Montague glanced over at her friends most likely trying to determine if they could be overheard over the blasting telly, the cheers and groans, and the noises Ron Weasley made when he ate pizza.

"Yes, I told them they should treat you better if they knew what was good for them," Montague shrugged. "Then I sent for Sassy and gave her your jewels to deliver to you."

"I have to give those back," Kate said hastily, "they belonged to your great grandmother."

"And now they belong to you," Montague said, "like I want."

It was times like this that Katie felt the conflict between her brain and her heart. Montague couldn't have good intentions toward her. He'd proven it over and over again, was actively hiding something from her that his mates kept hinting at, had lied about his ability to fly, had lied about his terrible bet, had lied about the horrible things he'd said to the twins about Katie. But then he'd taken her to France for a day, doing things he thought Katie would like. Then he said something sweet, or did something thoughtful, or smiled at her in a certain way, and she lost her head so hard she'd been tempted to ask George to show her what Montague had done in a pensieve, just so she could see it for herself. Not because she thought George would ever lie to her about something so important, but because she couldn't quite seem to reconcile the two versions of Montague like she'd like to.

"I still feel weird keeping them," Katie said feebly, "it's not like I have anywhere to wear them, even."

"I'm sure we'll be forced to go to some other dull pure-blood ball or wedding or something," Montague said, "you can wear them then. Also another dress that leaves you half naked."

"That's key," Katie said sarcastically. Mushy moment over, as usual with Montague. What was she thinking? Of course she didn't need to see him behaving like an ass in a pensieve. He could show her himself.

"Anyway, we should go," Montague said, his eyes straying to her friend again, "don't want to be late."

"No," Katie sighed, "wouldn't want that." Maybe she'd get lucky and they'd get hit by a bus on the street outside the Bell's home and she could avoid the whole thing.

"See you," Montague said to her friends, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the noise, taking Katie's hand.

"Bye, Montague," Harry said easily.

"Good seeing you," Alicia said, batting her eyes innocently, although Montague, Katie, and Alicia were no doubt all picturing the last time they'd been alone together.

"Have fun with your peezah, and your sports," Montague said, again with a weird, wistful expression.

"Join us next time?" Percy said casually.

Ron choked on his pizza.

There was silence in the room, aside from the screeching from the announcers on the telly, although as far as Katie could see the players were only slowly passing the ball to each other, barely even running.

"Would love to," Montague said, and then he smiled.

Ange and Ginny recoiled, and somehow, someway Katie knew they were recoiling in shock that Montague did, indeed, have a very nice smile.

"Let's go," Katie said, as the women in the room blinked in confusion, aside from Alicia, who was smug. She'd already known that his smile was nice, of course.

As they left the flat, Montague kept smiling a little to himself about something, and Katie's guts twisted more. Now he was even getting invited to flat hangouts?!

They'd had to walk out of the flat to a spot safe to Apparate, making their way to the pleasant street the Bells lived on in the outskirts of Bath, Montague insisting on holding her hand as he looked about them with interest, apparently having no idea about the excruciating torment Katie felt herself in physically, the way her heart was pounding out of control, the roaring sound in her ears, the desperate way she wanted to flee and become Katia Bellova again. If Montague didn't meet her parents, then this wasn't real, it was still just a game. But it had stopped being a game, or a sense of self- preservation quite a while ago, if Katie was being honest with herself.

Rita already knew who Montague was. She was keeping inexplicably silent about it for now, but she knew. The hammer would drop. Hellman knew, and her entire team, and all of their friends who had been at Alicia's party, and Montague's family, and his closest friends, they all knew. Anyone paying attention would've seen the wizards in the player's box at Katie's game, and would've at least been able to narrow down her mystery boyfriend to one of the three Slytherins by physique alone. It was pointless to continue this charade. Everyone would know about her having sex with Montague, even if he resisted all temptation to throw her knickers around.

So what the hell was she doing, continuing? Why was she going on dates with him? Why was she kissing him for fun? Why was she letting him take her to France? Why was she introducing him to her parents, when she never had introduced a boyfriend before?

As they passed a group of Muggle and Katie tensed, waiting for Montague to do something awful and instead he nodded politely at them and walked on, still looking at their surroundings with bright interest, Katie was forced to admit a truth to herself. She was continuing the game because she was terrified, of course, and not just of losing her career, her reputation, and her chance to ever date a decent bloke after this mess was done. She was terrified of feeling something real for Montague and getting hurt.

"This is nice," Montague said, jolting Katie out of her miserable thoughts, "pretty town."

"Yes," Katie said, "I didn't think you'd think so, though."

"Why not?" Montague said, "Is this some bigot thing, where you thought I'd hate all the Muggles and Muggle buildings? you realize most wizards live near Muggles, Bell, yes? Including me?"

"Your family's mansion was nowhere near Muggles," Katie said. She hadn't gone outside, of course, but Montague had told her how his rich parents lived in a manor in the countryside of Buckinghamshire.

"I wasn't talking about my parents," Montague said, "I was talking about me. My flat is surrounded by Muggles. I'm on very good terms with my Muggle neighbors, in fact."

"Good for you," Katie mumbled, still thanking god Montague couldn't read her mind and know she was scared of having feelings for him. She couldn't be so stupid as to like him. She hated Slytherins, and arrogance, and liars, and privileged little shits that hadn't done a day of work in their lives, even if they were cute and amusing and clever. She liked brave blokes who fought for what they believed in. Maybe she should tell Ginny to set her up with Dean when this mess was over.

"Are you alright?" Montague said, "Bell, don't worry. Shouldn't I be the nervous one?"

"No," Katie said, "my parents are Muggles."

"And I've been around Muggles a lot," Montague snapped, "I just told you. It will be much easier, actually, being around Muggles who know about our world. I can be very charming."

"I know," Katie said gloomily.

"So what's the problem?" Montague asked as they got closer and closer to Katie's parent's home. "It won't go anywhere near as bad as how my parents acted. You can't be humiliated like I was. I'm sure your parents are fine. They raised you, after all."

Katie tried to smile at this unexpected flattery and grimaced instead.

"What?" Montague demanded, "just tell me."

"I just want you to like them," Katie said at last.

She had discovered that it was easiest to lie and deceive Montague if she told things that were partially true. The sick part of her, the part Katie was ashamed of, did want her parents to like him, and for Montague to like them.

Montague's face cleared, and he smiled, and Katie felt even more sickened with herself when she felt that swooping feeling in her stomach that meant she thought a boy was handsome. Was she really this shallow, to be wooed by some mealy mouthed compliments, a handsome face, and excessive gifts, when this very same handsome boy had called her a whore to her face? She thought she was better than this.

"I'll like them," he assured Katie, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. A group of middle aged women saw the good looking young couple holding hands, the boy kissing the girl and carrying flowers, and smiled indulgently at them.

"Great," Katie said weakly, forcing a smile, and then there was the Bell family home, a nice, cozy place that was modest by Montague's standards, a hovel if he was feeling particularly Slytherin pure-blood. "Here we are," she forced herself to add, taking in the house with alien eyes, wondering what Montague saw and felt about it, the warm grey paint, the cobbled path to the door, which was red and ringed by rose bushes, the neat little arrangements of flowers in the front, the older sedan in the driveway.

"Katie!" her mother all but shouted, flinging open the front door when they were still barely in the driveway, making Montague jump.

Isla Bell wasn't wearing scrubs, at least, but while Montague's mother Helena had preserved, moisturized, and pampered every inch of her flesh her entire life, draped herself in the richest fabrics and jewels, painted her face like an exquisite doll, Katie's mother was free of makeup, and artifice. She was wearing her fancy cream jumper, and her nice slacks she used for company, and she'd even put on the plain gold necklace Katie's father had gotten her the year before. Her mother never tried this hard.

Katie felt a surge of affection for her parents, as icy as their recent owls had been. There was one way in which Montague's parents would never be wealthier than Katie's. As beautiful as Helena Montague was, Isla Bell was warm and kind and supportive, where Montague's mother was frigid and reserved and disapproving.

"Mum!" Katie said, dropping Montague's hand and racing forward, hugging her mom.

"You look nice," Isla said as she looked at Katie, "all dressed up, I see." Katie grinned at her mother's definition of dressed up, then was reminded how the most expensive dress she'd ever bought hadn't been good enough for Montague's family and fought to keep the smile up.

"Well, hello!" Isla Bell boomed over at Montague, who was hovering a few feet away, "you must be Graham! Aren't you handsome!"
Katie cringed, but Montague was smiling his nice smile, holding out the flowers and the basket.

"Mrs. Bell," he said, "what a delight. I've been looking forward to this all week."

"Oh, call me Isla!" Katie's mother said, taking the gifts from Montague and shoving them in Katie's arms in one swift motion, so she could grab Montague and hug him.

Katie laughed at the look of surprise on his face, making her way inside, placing the basket and flowers down and then kicking off her boots one by one as her mother dragged Montague inside.

"You didn't say he was so handsome," Isla said to Katie, picking up the basket and flowers as Montague took off his shoes with a vaguely confused look on his face, "then again, you didn't say anything about him, did you Katie?" And just like that, her surge of affection for her mother was gone.

"Yeah, well," Katie said, trailing off.

"You also didn't say much about anything else in your life," Isla continued, picking up a nearby vase and placing the flowers inside, "your father was getting worried."

"Not you?" Katie said, unable to resist.

"No," Isla said, "I know how you are. I knew you were fine."

"I am," Katie said, not sure if her mother was insulting her or not, "where's dad, anyway?"

"Grilling out back," Isla said, "you like burgers, don't you Graham?" she said to Montague.

Katie envisioned the million course dinner at the Montague's served on silver platters by invisible house elf labor and looked at Montague, who was still smiling.

"I love them," he said, "especially when you put the chips in milkshakes."

"Oh, you must've gotten that from Katie," Isla said, bustling off to the kitchen for some water for the flowers, "she gets it from Bill. Well come in, come in!" she said, "your father will be done soon."

"Does he need help?" Montague asked politely.

"Like you know how to grill, Montague," Katie snorted without thinking.

"I can help," he repeated stubbornly, but there was a look in his blue eyes Katie didn't like as he looked around the living room, which was covered in original art pieces made by her father. Some were more than a bit abstract.

"Katie don't be rude," Isla chided, "just because he grew up not knowing Muggle things!"

"Yes, Katie," Montague said, his smile more of a smirk now, "it's not my fault. I'm quite embarrassed."

"And don't call him by his last name," Isla continued, putting the flowers on the counter top, "it's very boys prep school of you."

"I'm not calling him Graham," Katie said sourly.

"Do you need help, Mrs. Bell?" Montague asked politely, his eyes on a row of Muggle photographs.

"Isla, Graham, Isla," Katie's mother said, "and no, I don't cook. That's all Bill."

Katie looked at Montague again, a challenge on her face. She was quite sure Edgar Montague would rather be hanged, drawn, and quartered rather than cook a meal while his wife did nothing. In fact, Edgar Montague probably couldn't even put sugar in his own tea without bollocksing it up.

"How nice," Montague said, refusing to rise to the bait, "are you sure he doesn't need helping on the grilled?"

"Grill," Katie corrected, "and fine. Your funeral."

In fact, now that she'd determined she was so pathetic as to be slightly attracted to Montague, she'd realized the only way to get over it fast was to witness this night turn into a disaster. Might as well start with Montague being an ass to her father.

"No, no, absolutely not," Isla said, now opening up the basket Montague had brought, "you're a guest, Graham, and Bill will take it as an affront if you try to help. Oh, how lovely!" She pulled out a bottle of wine and a vintage tea set made out of silver and studded with tiny red gems. Katie had a horrible feeling they were actual rubies again.

"Mum doesn't drink tea," Katie said viciously, not sure why she was lashing out. It was certainly not because she'd been wishing earlier that Montague was her genuine boyfriend. Not at all. "She drinks coffee."

"Katie, your manners are excruciating," Isla said severely, placing the set on the counter, "what has living with those girls done to you?"

"It's okay," Montague said, as Katie went red and tongue tied, "I'll bring a coffee maker next time. Sassy has gotten us one of those Italian ones that makes cappuccinos. I think you'd like it."

"Sassy?" Isla said, still looking disappointed in her daughter.

"His house elf," Katie said, now twice as surly.

"His what?" Isla blinked. She had that look on her face that she got when Katie talked about the magical world and she was desperately trying to understand.

"His unpaid slave labor," Katie clarified.

Isla looked uncomfortable, and bewildered, and Katie felt a stab of shame, knowing she had been the cause.

"Katie's joking," Montague said smoothly, "we joke all the time, don't we love?"

Isla smiled again, but Katie looked around for another empty vase to puke into. Her throat was filling with vomit. Love?

"A house elf is a domestic worker," Montague continued, "a magical creature that lives with a family for life. But they're a valued member of the family. Sassy helped raise me, like another mother. They love to serve. If you take that away from them, they're quite distraught. Most even go mad."

"Sounds like Bill if you take away his paints," Isla quipped.

Montague laughed. "The art is very good," he said convincingly, "quite unique."

"That's Bill," Isla said, "unique. Do you want the tour, while we wait for him?"

A disturbing light came to Montague's eyes.

"Mum, no," Katie blurted, "please."

She thought she had mentally prepared herself. But the thought of watching her childhood home be picked apart by Montague's eyes, all the while he was judging and finding the Bell family home lacking…

"Katie stop being so strange," Isla chided, "and don't think you're off the hook for not telling us about this charming young man sooner."

Montague shot her a triumphant look. Arse.

"He doesn't need a tour," Katie whined, as Isla ignored her and led Montague to the dining room, which was covered in statues from when Bill Bell had been going through an Egyptian phase, "mum, his parents live in a mansion. Mansions. Plural."

There was a flicker on Isla's face that shamed Katie further. Doubt. Her mother hadn't known, most likely assumed Montague was solidly working class like the Bell family.

She'd probably thought the tea set was fake jewels and fake silver.

"This is much nicer," Montague said, "I hate that place."

Katie snorted in disbelief.

"That's alright," Isla laughed, "we can't compare to a mansion, but it's home."

"No," Montague insisted, "I love it. It's warm."

"Warm?" Katie said sarcastically, "are you a lizard?"

"Katie," Isla hissed, as she began leading Montague down the hall, "what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Katie said sullenly, "It's just—"

"Let the boy speak, without your smart remarks," Isla said, "although you don't have to flatter us, Graham, we live quite modestly."

"I meant it's warm because it's a home," Montague said, ignoring Katie as he walked with her mother, "where people live who care about each other. Unlike my family."

There was an awkward pause. Katie rolled her eyes. Would Montague never stop stooping low in his quest to worm his way into every aspect of her life? Only revealing his true arsehole personality when there were no witnesses, making Katie look churlish at best, crazy at worst?

"I'm sorry to hear that," Isla said at last, "it's hard to grow up in a loveless home."

"Yes," Montague said, "it is. Thank you for understanding." They both looked back at Katie like she'd said something rude in response.

"What?" she snapped, "I hated your parents and their house too, Montague. I thought you figured that out."

Montague laughed, and Isla started to draw him towards Katie's childhood bedroom as she began to sweat. If her room at the flat was bad, this room was worse. For one, if you misinterpreted the south wall incorrectly, it looked like she had a shrine to Oliver Wood. She'd been obsessed with him for ages, but not as a boy, even if Oliver was cute, but as her captain. Katie had half-worshiped Oliver for four solid years. Okay, so she'd slept through a training lecture once or twice…but she'd paid careful attention the rest of the time, taken notes, heeded his advice. Katie had strived to live up to all of Wood's expectations and training, and that was what had gotten her first string in the Quidditch league. That, and her alleged fame. She hadn't the heart to take down the Oliver shrine out of gratitude.

Another wall was covered in photos of cute famous Muggle boys. A third had rainbows all over it. The last, puppies. If her room in the flat looked like a twelve-year-old girls, her childhood room looked like a six-year-old and a boy crazy teenager were bunking together. Isla reached for the knob to Katie's room as she contemplated tackling her own mother.

"Isla!" Bill Bell saved her, calling from the door to the backyard, "can you get me the goat's cheese before the kids arrive, darling?"

"The kids are here, Bill," Isla called back.

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" Bill Bell said coming inside. His spectacles fogged a little from the change in temperature, his best dad jeans were fresh and stiff. He was wearing a cooking apron that said "Kiss the Chef."

"Katie, sweetheart!"

"Dad," Katie said, relief flooding her as she hugged her father, "can you show Montague here how to grill? He's never done it and is dying to know. He grew up as a wizard, you know."

"Well grilling won't be very fun then," Bill said amiably, "when he can pull a rabbit out of a hat." He held out his hand to Montague.

"I'm not sure if you can actually do that, sir," Montague said, a hint of confusion in his eyes, as they shook hands,"it's nice to meet you."

"You as well," Bill said, "well, come on! Let's do the manly thing and grill the meat for the gals, shall we?"

Montague looked even more politely confused, but he followed her father out the door as Katie mentally ran through a list of ways she could get out of this mess. Fake an illness? Get an actual illness? Start a fire and get the fire brigade called? Of course the problem with all of those was that Montague would use magic to fix any of it before the dinner could end. Bastard.

"Katie," Isla said, the second the door shut on her father and Montague, who she'd just realized had wandered outside wearing only socks on his feet, "what is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Katie said weakly, looking around for the wine. Yes. That was the answer. The wine. She seized the bottle like a drowning woman would seize a life preserver.

"What are you doing with that?" Isla frowned, "that's for dinner."

"Or, before dinner, during dinner, and after,'' Katie said, meddling with the cork far too long before she remembered she could do magic. It flew in an arc, hit one of Bill's statues, and knocked it over.

"Sorry," Katie mumbled.

"You should be," Isla said, "couldn't you have done it harder? You didn't even break it."

Katie laughed, pouring herself a giant glass of wine. "You still hate that one, huh?"

"More every day," Isla said, picking up Bill's attempt at a pregnant Egyptian goddess. It wasn't too bad, if you could overlook that the goddess had three breasts, for some reason. "Oops," Isla said as the statue slipped through her hands and fell again, cracking in two.

"What a shame."

"Mum, why was Hellman writing to you?" Katie said, still giggling about the statue. If she went on the offensive, perhaps the conversation she'd been dreading wouldn't happen.

"Oh, you mean instead of you, my daughter, writing to me more than once every six months?" Isla said.

Well. So much for the offensive.

"You mean instead of finding out my daughter was practically engaged through a stranger, instead of—"

"We're not engaged," Katie blurted, mortified, looking behind her as if Montague were going to pop out like a ghoul to haunt her, "I can barely stand him."

"Yes, I gathered that at the first smart mouthed remark you uttered," Isla said, pouring herself a glass of wine, clearly understanding the battle she was about to undertake with her only child, "unless this is how you normally are with your boyfriends. I wouldn't know, seeing as how you've been too embarrassed of us to introduce us to one before."

Katie was shocked speechless.

"I'm not embarrassed of you," she said, "mum, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid," Isla said, after hoisting her wine cup like a battle ax, "why else are you hiding us? We've barely met your friends. I met your Quidditch teammates, what, once? For two minutes?"

"I had to get checked out by a healer after that match," Katie reminded her mother, "I had a hurt wrist. We had to leave, I was in pain."

"And what about every other match of yours?" Isla said, "when we get invited, that is."

"Mum, that isn't what this is about," Katie said, taking a swig of wine to fortify herself, "what this is about, is my teammate trying to steal my life. Or ruin it. With her bosoms of death."

"I think it's about the fact that we don't know our own daughter anymore, actually," Isla said.

Katie opened her mouth to protest. Dimly, they could hear shouts of excitement from outside. She took a swig of wine instead.

"I know, I know," Isla said, drinking her own wine, "you're going to say you're an adult now, and we should let you go. And you'd be right. We don't expect anything crazy, Katie. Weekly visits, daily phone calls, nothing like that. You know us. You know we don't ask a lot."

"I know," Katie mumbled into her wine, not able to look at her mother.

"Your father asks so little he's not even mad," Isla said, "Just worried. I told him, Bill, she's getting older, she doesn't need us. You know what he said?"

"No," Katie said, gulping another swig of wine. She didn't want to hear any of this.

"He said, 'Isla, she hasn't needed us since she was eleven and found out she's more powerful than we can ever be.'"

"That's not true," Katie said at once.

"I know that," Isla said, "and he knows it too. Can magic support you when you're scared and lonely?"

"No," Katie said.

"Does magic know your favorite things?" Isla continued.

"No," Katie said.

"Does magic love you, no matter what you do?"Isla said.

"Do you still love me?" Katie asked, sucking down more wine.

"Don't be absurd," Isla said, "it's because we love you that your father is so worried. But you've shut us out for years, Katie. I know something horrible happened to you, but—"

"No, you don't know," Katie said, a little louder than she intended due to the wine hitting her already, but outside her father and Montague were still inexplicably shouting with glee and didn't hear, "you're saying it like it was only one thing. It was a lot of things, mum. A lot."

"And I want to know about them," Isla said, "I always wanted to know. But you wouldn't tell me."

"You wouldn't understand," Katie muttered.

"Why wouldn't I understand?" Isla said, putting down her wine as Katie poured herself more, "just because I can't do magic? Well I can understand human behavior, it's all the same, really."

"It's not," Katie said, thinking of cursed necklaces and Imperius spells and giant spiders and evil people in masks who wanted to kill her for Isla and Bill existing.

"I think you'd be surprised," Isla said, "take this girl, for instance. Sheila."

"Who?" Katie said blankly, before she remembered Hellman had a first name. "Oh right. Her."

"She's obviously concerned for you," Isla said, and Katie's heart sunk. For one shining, stupid moment, she'd thought her mother might actually understand.

"She wrote to us about your changes in behavior. Partying. Drinking," Isla gestured to Katie's second glass of wine, "running headlong into a serious relationship with a boy your friends don't approve of, for some reason."

"Oh, she didn't tell you why my friends don't like him?" Katie said, "since we're such close pals, and all."

For some awful reason, she felt like crying. She hadn't hidden her reality from her parents on purpose, for all her mother made it sound that way. She'd written to them constantly in first year, hiding only how lonely she was, how few friends she'd had. She'd described everything in detail, in letters. In person over the holidays, she'd waved her hand and said the spells, not able to do underaged magic, over the summer. She'd placed her cauldron onto the table and Bill had poked at it with excitement. But they hadn't understood. Not really. And the more Katie tried, the more it hurt that they didn't. She couldn't talk to Ruby and Sandra and Julia. She had wanted to, desperately. But she wasn't allowed. She could go to Azkaban, which Oliver had described to her in detail. So they'd asked her about boarding school and she'd had to make rubbish up, not understanding when they'd talked about their advanced Muggle subjects Katie would never study. She'd had Lynn, of course, but Lynn wasn't a true Muggleborn. Her grandmother had been a Squib, and her family had long known about magic, didn't find it as alien and confusing as Katie's own parents, had even seen some from her great-grandmother and great-grandfather.

In second year, everything had changed. She'd made the Quidditch team. That hadn't just made her new friends, older, more exciting and confident friends. People had started to notice her. She wasn't just an invisible first year floating through school. But her wizard friends hadn't understood, either. They'd poked her posters and her presents and her writing pens and looked baffled. Even the most progressive and well meaning would make highly offensive comments on the surprising intelligence of Muggles. And second year was when Katie had understood that she was lesser to a lot of witches and wizards. She was an other, a genetic freak who fit in nowhere. So she'd chosen the wizarding world. What else could she have done? She'd tried to be open with her parents, but they'd been so scared after the incident with the opal necklace in her seventh year she'd stopped telling them the truth years ago. Started sheltering them. They'd read about her heroism in The Prophet, of course, but she'd downplayed it. Made it sound like a kid's fight with sticks, and they'd believed her. It was all better this way.

"Well, I figured it out," Isla said, "not why your friends don't approve of Graham. He seems delightful. But why you've been hiding him from us. You like him a lot, but that old insecurity of yours has popped up."

"My—what?"

"Your insecurity," Isla said, and Katie drank some more wine, fuck it, why not? "You've always thought you weren't enough, ever since you went to that blasted school. I don't know why. And you refused to tell us."

"What does that have to do with Montague?'' Katie asked, although her mother had stumbled upon a partial truth.

"You think you're not enough for him to love," Isla said gently, and Katie choked on her wine, "or you're not enough to keep him from hurting you. Something like that. So you're scared and lashing out."

"Mum," Katie said, her voice shaking with suppressed rage, "I assure you, I think I'm a hundred times too good for Montague."

"On that, we agree," Montague said from the open door to the patio, holding a plate of burgers.

Isla looked mortified, but Katie didn't care, as long as he hadn't heard the absolute nonsense her mother had been saying previously.

Bill guffawed. "Good man," he said, clapping Montague on the back, who half smiled at Katie, his eyes dark and unreadable, and unsmiling.

"Always know you're punching above your weight, is what I say," Bill added obliviously, "look at me and Isla."

Katie watched those unreadable eyes turn to her mother and felt oddly protective, for all she'd just been furious at her mother moments before. What was Montague thinking, when his own mother was still so beautiful and thin, so fashionable and dignified? And better yet, why did she care?

"Far above your weight," Montague agreed, still smiling a half smile. "Be—Katie, do you own a grilled? I find them very amusing. I should get you one."

"Sure," Katie said, after another healthy gulp of wine, "why not? Grill and we can watch football with my mates. What could go wrong?"

"Sounds great," Montague said, still with that alarming look in his eyes from when he'd heard her saying she was far too good for him.

"So, how did you two meet?" Bill asked as he placed the burgers triumphantly on the table next to the side dishes as Isla poured the wine.

"The pits of hell," Katie said.

"At school," Montague said simultaneously.

"Same thing, I suppose," Bill said cheerfully, "if what Katie has told us about Hogwarts is true."

They all sat down as Katie contemplated the best way to end the night again. Slapping Montague would irritate Isla as being dramatic at best, abusive at worst. Illness would make Bill think he'd poisoned the burgers on mistake. Fainting would lead to Montague pretending he had to give her mouth to mouth.

"What has Katie told you about Hogwarts?" Montague said curiously.

"Not much, in truth," Isla said, "not since her first year anyway. It all sounded marvelous then, until I realized she was being ostracized because of us." For a second , Katie lost all her breath. "Because we can' t do magic," Isla elaborated, though everyone knew what she was talking about. "since we're Muggles."

"What do you mean, mum?" Katie said, her ears ringing.

She'd been so careful, never to reveal what was really going on. How Lynn had been her only friend. How she'd get called Mudblood once everyone found out how her clothes and toys and gadgets were all strange and useless. How she didn't understand wizard pop culture and history, how behind she'd been in all of her classes for a solid three years from not growing up with wizard parents.

They'd had to be informed in her seventh year about the necklace incident, of course, McGonagall had insisted, Katie found out later, a fact for which she was equally grateful and angry. The other wizards had thought the Bells should be kept in the dark, until McGonagall had shouted them down that Muggles should know the whereabouts of their children the same as magical parents. But if McGonagall hadn't shown basic human decency for her parents and won, her parents wouldn't have worried. Even after the necklace incident, when she'd been coherent enough to talk to her parents about it, Katie had presented it as an accident. Nothing to do with her birth. And in fact, she hadn't been chosen to be cursed for being a Muggleborn. At least she assumed. It wasn't like she'd ever asked Malfoy.

"Honey, I'm not stupid," Isla said, "I know what you were going through. Minerva McGonagall was very informative in her letters when I'd write her."

"You wrote McGonagall?" Katie said. Her father was obviously putting together a burger, slathering it in goat cheese.

"Try this, Graham," he instructed, "add some honey mustard."

Montague obeyed at once, whether because he trusted the Bell family taste buds, or to avoid the awkward fight she was having with her mother at the dinner table was unknown. Then again, if anyone was used to having awkward fights with one's mother at the dinner table, it was Montague.

"Every two weeks," Isla said, putting salad on her plate, "she wrote to me first, mind you. Apparently she writes all the parents of Muggleborns, to give them updates."

"Nice of her," Montague said unexpectedly, as he took the tongs to serve himself sweet potato chips, "old Snape would have rather had his arm chewed off by rabid Matagots then ever pretend to care about one of his students."

"Snape?" Bill said blankly.

"Matagots?" Isla said, even more confused. Katie shoved her burger into her mouth so Montague would be forced to dig out of his own hole without assistance.

"You haven't heard about Snape?" Montague said, incredulous, "I was sure Katie would've told you all about him."

Katie chewed, eyes turning to a nearby statue of an Egyptian cat so she could pretend she didn't notice everyone staring at her.

"And Matagots are spirit creatures that resemble black cats," Montague added hastily, seemingly realizing he had been potentially been rude to Katie's mother, 'they are used by the French Ministry as defensive measures."

"Ah," Isla said, "I see."

"Who is Snape?" Bill said cheerfully, "that boy you liked, Kates? What was his name?"

"Dad," Katie moaned, but her mouth was half full of burger still, her eyes snapping back to Montague, who looked revolted.

"Graham just described him as 'old,' Bill," Isla said, her voice faintly amused.

"Good burgers, dad," Katie blurted after swallowing. Maybe faking a medical emergency was the way to go. Or claim she'd just found out about a sudden Quidditch practice.

She'd have to somehow set up an owl to deliver a fake note, but…

"You had a crush on Snape?" Montague said, his voice twice as loud as it should be, and they all winced in unison, "um, sorry. I didn't mean to…Snape, Katie?"

"God, no!" Katie said, "don't make me ill!"

"Already there, myself," Montague said, who had his burger up to his mouth but hadn't taken a bite, his face greenish.

"He was a professor," Katie explained to her parents, "he was the head of Montague's house. Slytherin. Like McGonagall was head of mine, before she became headmistress."

"You were in Slytherin?" Isla said, turning to Montague. She wasn't frowning, not quite, but it was there, waiting to burst onto her face, and they could all see it.
Montague went from green to red.

"You didn't mention that," Isla said, "is that why Sheila said—" she stopped herself, but Katie filled in the rest of her mother's question.

Was that why Hellman had told her mother that Katie's friends hated Montague?

If her parents had learned one bad thing about Katie's time at Hogwarts, it was that the Slytherins were the bane of her existence. She'd moaned about it every summer, every Christmas, every Easter, how they were rich and mean and bullies, how they cheated at Quidditch, how they tormented the Gryffindors, how they were all useless spoiled brats.

"Yes," Montague said, still red, "we played opposite each other in Quidditch. Katie always beat us, of course."

"You played on the Slytherin Quidditch team?" Isla said, her voice was even more ominous, and Montague went redder. The stars of Katie's "Slytherins are all useless spoiled arses" rants had always been the Slytherin Quidditch team. Flint and Malfoy had been her most common moans, of course, but she was sure she must've dropped Montague's name at some point, and her parents just didn't remember. The "Slytherins are the root of all evil" letters of course, had been rather long.

"Try the burger, Graham," Bill said cheerfully, and Montague obeyed at once, taking a bite so large Katie was sure it was to buy himself time to think of some lie to win her mother over. Montague, for all his faults, wasn't stupid, and clearly had understood the trap he'd walked into.

"Katie, how did you ever end up dating one of the minions of Beelzebub?" Isla said, her voice still severe, but her lips twitching.

Montague made a muffled burger noise that would've humiliated his mother. Had a burger ever passed Helena Montague's lips? No, of course not.

"I'm using him for his money," Katie said sourly, and Bill giggled while Isla's lips wriggled more. More muffled burger noises came from Montague, but it was his fault for taking such a Ron Weasley-esque bite. "It's going swimmingly," Katie said, warming up, "You'll be able to retire early, after I fleece a few million pounds out of him."

"Oh good," Bill said, "I can get back to my sculpting," he gestured at the triple breasted statue of Anuket. "Oh dear, what happened here?" he said, noticing for the first time it was broken.

"Nothing, Bill," Isla said innocently, "the cat maybe."

"We don't have a cat," Bill said.

"I can fix it," Montague said after a giant swallow, his face still bright red, "reparo!" he looked triumphantly at Bill and Isla, the former who was delighted, the latter who looked appalled. Montague went redder. Katie cackled. Maybe tonight would be fun after all.

It was impressive how badly Montague kept screwing up his chance at winning over Katie's parents. He'd stuttered through a horrible explanation as to why he'd tormented Katie in school that even made Bill stop smiling. Eventually he'd muttered "idiocy and peer pressure" and then chugged half his glass of wine, then started choking. That had led Bill to attempt the Heimlich, until a wad of half digested beef flew out of Montague's mouth..

"Oh good," Katie said, deadpan, "he didn't die."

Montague glared at her, rubbing at his ribs and still coughing, his eyes watering from the pain.

"What was that?" he asked hoarsely.

"The Heimlich maneuver," Isla said, "helps those who are choking to death. Unnecessary, and if it was needed, Bill really should've left it to me, since I'm the expert."

"You could've used an expulso," Montague coughed, rubbing at his red and watering eyes.

"Oh, could they?" Katie said, "mmm, dad, these chips are great."

"I'm sorry I can't do magic," Bill said, looking embarrassed, "I'm sure that would've been easier for you to endure."

Montague, if possible, went even redder.

"No, no, I should apologize," he said at once, "I forgot—how rude of me—"

"Yes, it was," Katie said, "dad was just trying to save your life, after all. Wow, this salad is amazing, dad. What is this? Strawberry vinaigrette and blue cheese? Maybe it's the candied pecans?"

"Definitely the candied pecans," Bill said to Katie under his breath, "Of course, magic would do the job better," Bill said to Montague, looking even more embarrassed, "we must seem awfully primitive to you."

"No," Montague half shouted, and Isla winced, which only made Montague look more panicked, "Erm, no, I mean, you're quite smart for Muggles! Very impressive! You could almost say sophisticated!"

Isla's fork dropped with a clang. Bill lunged for his wine, a man after Katie's own heart, Montague's usually handsome face went nuclear tomato. It was possible he'd have a heart attack from a tragic case of sticking foot in mouth. Katie smugly ate another chip.

"I – I mean…" Montague tried. His voice died away. He looked helplessly at Katie. She yawned, then ate another chip.

"Did you lose a bet, Katie?" Isla said, now rubbing her temples, as Bill chugged, "was that it, honey? Or something to do with the antics from your very amusing friend with the joke shop?"

"George," Katie supplied.

"George, that's it," Isla said, "I really like him. Was this a prank of his?" Isla waved a hand between Katie and Montague.

"Gurk," Montague whimpered.

"I wish," Katie sighed, "I was really drunk, okay?"

"Oh, Katie," Isla said, rubbing her temples harder.

Bill, by contrast, stopped drinking at once.

"Really drunk, princess?" he said, his face white, "were you..did he…" he turned to Montague, his face turning a matching shade of nuclear tomato, "did you take advantage of my drunk daughter?"

"Nrrgllk," Montague said.

"Not exactly," Katie said, taking an ounce of pity.

"Not exactly?" Bill blustered. Bill Bell was an amiable man, all agreed, but not when it came to his daughter's happiness. Or his dedication to Old Kingdom era Egyptian art.

"I didn't!" Montague choked audible words at last, "she was too busy snogging some Muggle blokes when she was drunk to snog me!"

Isla groaned, closing her eyes.

Bill looked like he wanted to ask a question, then picked up the wine instead again, before setting it down in a hurry, looking at the bottle suspiciously. "Isla, is this ours? Or did he bring it?"

"He brought it," Katie said.

"Dear god," Bell yelped, grabbing everyone's wine glasses and dumping it down the sink, "who knows what he put into it!"

"What?" Montague said, horrified.

"If he's getting my princess drunk and taking advantage of her," Bill muttered to the sink full of glasses as he upended the bottle and poured.

"That was probably a hundred pound bottle of wine," Katie said.

"Thousand," Montague muttered, his eyes wide and fixed on Bill Bell's mad scramble to pour out his overpriced wine. "Sir, I really didn't—"

"I was sober when we, er, kissed," Katie finally forced herself to say. As much fun as he was having, Bill might actually try to bash Montague's head in with a fireplace poker if she let this go much farther. Isla, of course, would use that statue of Anuket. "Me and Montague, I mean. He er…beat up some guys who were bothering me. Then we um. Kissed."

"Yes, I was very heroic," Montague said, his voice high pitched.

Katie made eye contact with Isla, whose expression made it very clear she knew Katie's explanation of a kiss was an undersell.

"Oh, Katie," Isla said, "that makes sense. It was a primal attraction, due to him…what?"

"I punched some blokes," Montague said, "In my defense, they were—"

"They were gross," Katie agreed, "it was all manful, yes, Montague, thanks. Dad, you really didn't have to pour that wine down the sink."

"It was good wine," Bill said regretfully.

"I'll send you another," Montague said at once, his voice normal again now that Katie had finally stepped in,"as an apology for my um. Well. I'm usually not this rude."

Katie cackled.

"I'm charming!" Montague said, glaring at Katie.

"Excessively," Isla said, picking up a chip and morosely chewing it.

"Honey, was it a prank?" Bill asked again, worried, "On you? Or on us? You know your mother doesn't like pranks. Were you mad we were overstepping in your life? Was that it? We're sorry about that."

"Was it a prank from that Sheila girl?" Isla said, pinching between her eyes now, "and you went along with it to teach us a lesson about meddling?"

"I'm charming," Montague repeated, his voice now a whine, "really! Bell, tell—"

"He amuses me," Katie said grudgingly, "I was bored."

"There, I'm amusing!" Montague said, looking around in desperation.

"Usually more than this," Katie admitted.

"I hope so," Isla muttered, and Montague looked like he was passing a kidney stone.

"Well, if you're happy," Bill said, looking dubious.

"Yes," Isla agreed, pinching between her eyebrows again with one hand, grabbing a fresh wine goblet with the other, "your happiness is key. Are you happy?"
Everyone looked at her.

"Um," Katie said, looking around at the ridiculous sculptures her mother tolerated out of a sense of love for her husband, "I will be when we win the cup," she deflected frantically.

"Oh, you will," Montague said at once, his face still all red, "you're the best team in the league."

"Are they?"" Bill said, "the papers say they're winning on luck."

"Dad," Katie groaned.

"The papers also said she's dating some boy with teeth like a vampire, but we ignored that too, Bill," Isla said.

"She's not dating Flint," Montague scowled, "He broke her leg, for Merlin's sake. He's hideous."

"A bit like a T-Rex," Bill agreed, "all those teeth!"

"The arms aren't accurate though," Isla quipped, "the boy looked half gorilla, not those tiny T-Rex arms."

"What's a T-Rex?" Montague said, looking between her parents. The desperation wafting off of him in regard to impressing her parents was overwhelming.

Isla's mouth dropped.

"Is this him being amusing?" Bill asked earnestly, then took a bite of his burger.

"Oh, very," Katie said, fighting a laugh.

"So it's a joke?" Bill prompted, still looking at Montague in a way Katie was positive he'd never been looked at in his whole life, like he was a new form of life Bill had never encountered, nor had particularly wanted to.

"...yes?" Montague tried to say.

Katie had never seen him even half this rattled. It was beyond a relief. Of course her parents and Montague wouldn't get along. That was to be expected. But at least instead of him being the one to insult her parents, like she'd assumed, they were the ones finding him lacking.

"Yes, he knows," Katie said, "right, Montague? Explain what a T-Rex is."

"A type of murderous Muggle," Montague said after a desperate pause, "that um. Has terrible teeth. Very big and violent."
Katie cackled.

"Well," Bill said, "I suppose you've always had an odd sense of humor, honey."


The dinner had probably dragged on for eons to Montague. When her parents had found out the extent of Montague's ignorance on almost everything Isla had seemed to start feeling sorry for him and began treating him like he was a bit simple. Bill had gone pop-eyed with excitement about being able to lecture someone on topics he was interested in, and had gone on a long drone on the various dinosaur eras to Montague, who had an expression that indicated he couldn't figure out if Katie's parents were winding him up or not.

"Bigger than a dragon?" he kept saying, a hint of condescension, when Bill had described the Apatosaurus.

"Yes, of course," Bill had said, "didn't you see all this in Jurassic Park, anyway? Everyone saw that."

"Jurassic what?" Montague had asked blankly.

"Oh no," Katie sighed.

She'd been hoping they could flee after dinner, and she could avoid the awful conversations her parents would try to force on her about Hellman and Katie's ongoing shoving of her Muggle side out of her life.

"You'll love it," Bill said enthusiastically, "let's watch it! Hang on, have you ever seen a movie?"

"Bill," Isla said, "don't be condescending to the poor boy, just because he's so ignorant about science."

Montague laughed nervously, clearly humiliated.

"It's not his fault," Isla continued, oblivious to Montague's agony, "It's not like we know about his magical things that well. Of course he's seen a movie." She turned to Montague, as if to apologize for her husband,, but he looked tormented. "Haven't you, Graham?"

"Er," Montague said.

"We should go," Katie said, it's getting late, and-"

"Oh bah, you can just appetizer home," Bill said, waving a hand.

"Apparate," Katie said, "Apparate, dad."

"Yes, we can stay," Montague said, though why he was fighting to stay and continue his trauma Katie wasn't sure, "and see a mooh-vee."

Something about the way he pronounced it clued her parents in.

"You really haven't seen a movie before?" Isla said, her own eyes popping now.

"Um," Montague said.

"You poor thing!" Bill said, "well, we'll take care of that!" Katie sighed, as Montague trailed after her parents and into the living room. It was going to be a long night.

"And the way that Tyra-sore-us ate that sawyer!" Montague said, waving his hands enthusiastically as they walked through the park to the top of the hill, as Bill had insisted that they show him the view of Bath at night, "in two bites!"

"Tyrannosaurus," Bill corrected, "and he ate a lawyer. Or technically, it was an actor."

"And Muggles are okay with that?" Montague said, "of letting people die in moo-vees?"

"It's entertainment," Bill said, "you know, like the old Romans in the Colosseum with the gladiators and the lions."

"Er, what is that, sir?" Montague said, as they walked through the leaf ridden pathway, letting another Muggle family pass them.

"Katie, did you bring a flask?" Isla said under her breath, as Katie took a covert sip, "you own a flask?"

"It's dad's," Katie said, turning it to the lamplight so her mother could see the bust of Cleopatra engraved on it.

In front of them, they could hear Bill launching into another droning sermon, this time about the Ancient Romans.

"Dad's been bored lately, huh," Katie said wearily, taking a swig from the flask.

"Extremely irritating," Isla agreed, "he's using his free time to become an armchair expert on everything."

"So a moo-vee is like a gladiator ring, for Muggles?" they heard Montague ask Bill.

"Oh god," Katie said, and took another swig.

"Bill, explain that no one actually dies in a movie," Isla said loudly, yanking the flask from Katie's hand.

"Hey!" Katie said, "mum, give that back!"

"You're turning into a drunk," Isla said bluntly, then she took her own swig.

"Hypocrite," Katie said, amused.

"I'm the one dealing with seriously ill people all day," Isla reminded her only daughter, "you spend your time flying in the air on a piece of cleaning equipment."

"Jealous?" Katie said, fighting a laugh.

"Who wouldn't be?" Isla said, taking another swig then handing Katie back the flask, "but still. Is this Sheila right about you partying and drinking all the time? You haven't started using cocaine, have you?"

"No,'' Katie said at once, "mum, don't be ridiculous. I just am having a…hard time right now. And I'm young." She realized she sounded defensive yet couldn't stop. "As for Hellman…she's...I don't know what's going on with her, mum, but she's out to get me. Don't listen to a thing she says. You saw those articles about my love life where she's quoted?"

"No," Isla said, "you told us years ago that Rita Skeeter is a liar and to ignore every article she writes, so we do."

"Thanks," Katie said, touched. "Well, she's got Hellman quoted all over it, these smug things about how she's not going to reveal who Montague really is because of prejudices and blow back or whatever."

"And that's not the real reason?" Isla said.

Up ahead, they could hear Bill explaining special effects.

"I don't think so," Katie said, "it makes no sense. I think she's out to get me because she wants my spot on the first string. So it's I dunno. Psychological warfare."

"She sounds like a bitch," Isla said bluntly.

"Mum," Katie said, delighted.

"Sorry we listened to her," Isla said, "she just seemed so convincing, and well…"

"I haven't written much," Katie admitted, guilt rising. She'd been so busy trying to stop Montague from ruining her life she was doing just fine ruining it herself.

"Corn syrup?" Montague said, loudly, "is that what our bodies are full of? Corn syrup?"

Katie groaned, and made for the flask.

"Mine now," Isla said gleefully, taking a sip, then she handed it over anyway.

"Thanks," Katie said.

"Are you sure you want to date someone so…um…" Isla said, lowering her voice, as they climbed the last set of stairs.

"No, that's blood," Bill said, "tastes like copper. Corn syrup is delicious."

"Arrogant and spoiled?" Katie supplied.

"I was going to say ignorant and strange, but then again, I married your father," Isla said, "I can't talk."

"Dad isn't ignorant," Katie said.

"Katie, he just told your horrifyingly uneducated boyfriend that blood tastes like copper, and corn syrup is delicious as an explanation as to how Muggles aren't killed in movies," Isla said, amused.

"Eccentric," Katie said stubbornly, "dad's eccentric."

"Muggles drink blood?" they heard Montague gasp ahead. Katie closed her eyes in pained acknowledgment that she'd actually fucked the idiot asking her father if Muggles were vampires.

"Are you sure it wasn't a spell?" Isla said, even quieter, "have you been checked? Or what do you call it? A potion?"

"Mum," Katie whined, "I just…was feeling…"

"Horny?" Isla said.

"I'm going to fling myself off this hill," Katie yelped, recoiling, then she snatched back the flask and chugged. Isla cackled. "Reckless, mum. You were looking for reckless. Thanks for scarring me for life."

"So you were reckless and had sex with a pretty boy you used to bicker with in school," Isla shrugged, as they finally climbed the hill and followed the path to the best spot to observe Bath.

"Who said we had sex?" Katie said, compulsively grabbing at the crucifix around her neck.

"Anyone with eyes," Isla said bluntly, "who isn't your father, anyway. It's not the end of the world. Why are you still dating him, hon? You seem to hate him."

"It's complicated," Katie muttered.

"Try me," Isla said, "I'm your mum. Sometimes I know things."

Katie wavered.

"Animatronics, and computer graphics," they heard Bill saying, "that's how they did the dinosaurs."

"Anima—?"

"Robots," Bill said.

"Huh?"

"You know, kind of like in Star Wars?" Bill said. "R2-D2? C-3PO?"

"Star Wars?"

"You've never seen Star Wars?" Bill practically shouted.

"Your father is absolutely dreadful at explaining Muggle things," Isla sighed, "give me back that flask, Katie."

"You should've brought your own," Katie said.

"Katie!" Bill said, turning back to his daughter and wife who were struggling over a flask. Montague raised his eyebrows, and Katie let her mum win, "did you know Graham has never seen Star Wars?"

"Dad, he's never seen a single movie," Katie said, "that includes Star Wars."

"Well, we'll just have to invite you both back next weekend, then!" Bill enthused, "a marathon!"

"No," Katie blurted. This couldn't be happening. Her parents were sensibly hating Montague all night, until that blasted movie. This was all Stephen Spielberg's fault!

"Sounds great," Montague grinned.

"I'm busy," Katie said at once, "the DA is having one of our reunions. They only happen a few times a year. Plus, our next match."

"Which we're invited to, right?" Isla said, handing back the flask out of pity.

"Of course," Katie wilted.

"We can sit next to Graham!" Bill said with fresh enthusiasm.

"Perfect!" Montague said.

"Kill me," Katie said under her breath.

"Only if you manage to get rid of that statue of Bill's first," Isla muttered back.


"Well, I think that well," Montague said as they walked through downtown Bath lit up for nighttime. He had insisted on them walking around instead of just Apparating back to Katie's flat building like normal people so they could spend a few minutes talking alone. Her mother had kissed Katie goodbye and murmured in her ear that she wasn't off the hook about what was going on with Montague, a conversation she was going to avoid as long as possible. Forever, if she could.

"That was your definition of 'went well?'" Katie said in disbelief.

"Compared to how it went with my parents, yes," Montague said, "sure there was that part where your father thought I defiled you while you were drunk…"
Katie's face burned.

"Defiled?" she said acidly, "I thought you knew I hate when you talk like we're in the Victorian age."

"The what age?" Montague said. He was holding her hand again, and she hated that too. So why hadn't she let go?

"That's it," Katie said, "I insist you spend some of your eons of free time reading books. History. Maths. Science. Literature. Pop culture. Whatever."

"So now I've got homework to date you?" Montague said, "and you say you're not the most high maintenance girl I've ever dated, Bell?"

"Well unlike the usual twits I assume you date I don't want to marry you, see," Katie said coldly, "so I actually have standards I expect you to uphold, as my boyfriend. It's not so hard. One, don't be an arsehole. Two, don't be a Death Eater. Three, stop lying to me all the time. Four, don't be an ignoramus. Five—"

"I'm not ignorant," Montague said, "I got high marks in my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s and—"

"Yeah?" Katie interrupted, "what's that, then?" she pointed at a motorcycle that was parked.

Montague opened his mouth, then closed it.

"You can't expect me to know everything about Muggles, Bell," he said, "that's too much."

"Oh boo-hoo," Katie said sarcastically, "somehow Muggleborns need to know everything Muggles know and what wizards and witches know, and we manage. Yet we're the inferior ones."

She was still holding his hand. Why? She tried to drop it, but Montague grabbed her other hand as well, drawing her close. They were under an annoyingly picturesque tree with string lights hanging from it.

"I never said you were inferior, Bell," Montague said, looking at her face.

"You bloody liar," Katie said, enraged, "that's basic trait number three, and there you go again, lying! What about all those times in school you called me a Mudblood?"

"I didn't," Montague said at once.

"Bloody liar!" Katie said again, "you think my parents are inferior to yours. Go on. Say it. Say it!"

"No," Montague said, "because I don't think that at all. Your parents actually tried to get to know me. They were nice. They clearly support you. How is that inferior to my parents?"

"You tell me," Katie sneered, "you're the one who believes that pure-blood rubbish."

"Look, Bell," Montague said, "I was raised a certain way. We all are, pure-bloods."

"Weasleys," Katie said at once.

"Almost all of us," Montague corrected, "you can't blame a kid for not seeing what their parents told them is wrong. Now I see it's wrong."

"You weren't a kid," Katie retorted, "you were old enough. It's not like you were six."

"So what can I do to convince you?" Montague said, exasperated, "what can I do to tell you I've grown up? What else could I possibly do?"

"I told you," Katie said, "crack a book. Cut into that busy debutante ball time."

"Done," Montague said, a gleam in his eye Katie didn't like at all.

"Great," Katie said, "and while I'm at it, maybe you should stop being friends with Warrington since he called me a trashy whore."

"I punched him in the face," Montague frowned, "Weasley didn't tell you?"

"Which one?" Katie said, surprised.

"The she Weasley," Montague said, "she cheered and everything."

"No," Katie said, "she didn't."

"Weird," Montague said, "like I said. There was fist pumping. She even smiled at me. It was all very shocking."

"I'll bet," Katie said, "and why, exactly, did you not mention this when you come to my flat afterwards?"

"Well again, I thought you knew," Montague frowned.

"That you'd dumped Warrington as a friend?" Katie asked.

"Who said I dumped him as a friend?" Montague asked, "over what?"

"Over what?" Katie practically choked on her outrage.

"Bell," Montague said condescendingly, "can you honestly tell me that you're friends haven't said something about me that was equally as awful? If not worse?"

"Nothing you didn't deserve," Katie said coldly.

There was a moment where she thought Montague was going to do it, that he was going to say that she deserved it as well, that Warrington was right and she was a trashy whore, but the moment passed and he forced a laugh.

"Just the usual, then?" Montague said, "I'm an arrogant spoiled lazy arse?"

"You know it," Katie said, "now please. Describe the punch. Spare no details."


Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, life has been stressful and I'm having a bit of a crisis with my writing abilities lol.