Chapter Eighteen:The Madness Of Katie Bell
"Mr. George Weasley and Miss Katherine Bell!'' The house elf dressed in a silver toga bellowed as they stepped to the top of a grand marble staircase.
"Pinch me," Katie muttered to George out of the corner of her mouth. The gathered wizards and witches below, who were congregated in what she could only describe as a ballroom, covertly stared at them then glanced away, back to their champagne.
"Why?" George said, "Is the sheer waste getting to you?"
"I feel like I've wandered into a twisted Jane Austen novel," Katie said, "maybe that's just my dress."
She looked down at the golden Grecian dress that was one third Oscar statuette, one third Marilyn Monroe, one third a stripper pretending to be Cleopatra. George had had it made for her. She'd been planning on going shopping herself but then found herself at the bottom of a tequila bottle.
"No, it's hell," George informed her cheerfully.
He was wearing a Muggle tuxedo. He hadn't even thought of it until Ron had blathered something about George Bond at him and they'd subsequently binged James Bond movies for three days straight, leaving Verity in charge of the shop until she stormed into George's flat and threw a bottle of hot pink U-No-Poo at his head. It had been the spin-off called "U-Do-Poo-A-Lot: Now in Strawberry Prune!" The mark it had left had been even pinker than the strawberry prune pills within.
"I look like Cleopatra's even sluttier cousin," Katie said mournfully.
Her mates had forced another sober up potion on her, until George had produced a mini bottle of wine with a wink before they left. "Ange didn't want to come," he had shrugged, "so it's not my problem if you're drunk."
"Even my makeup screams Queen of the Nile," Katie said, "or Queen of Denial, more like, before you say it."
"Cleopatra was rumored to be a witch," George said cheerfully, kindly skipping over how Katie clearly was in denial about a great deal of many things, "proficient in love potions, you know. but the New Alexandria School of Enlightenment always denied that she'd studied there, back when it had just been the Alexandria School of Enlightenment."
"I didn't know you paid attention in History of Magic," Katie said as they continued to descend the endless stairs. She caught eyes with a woman who looked familiar and looked hastily away. Anyone who looked familiar was probably one of Montague's horrible relatives.
"I don't," George said, "I paid attention to books about magical tricksters and inventors, for inspiration. It was Fred's job to research the mechanics of it all. I got the fun stuff."
They finally made it to the marble floor. Nearby, a golden statue glittered. Katie went temporarily blind.
"One of those," she declared, blinking rapidly, "for Fred and Colin. Is that solid gold?"
"Gold and the tears of the rich," George said, "plus a statue of Lavender. Don't forget her. Maybe with amethysts in it, even."
"Yes, Lavender," Katie agreed, "and Remus and Tonks."
"Make sure Remus gets a second one of him as a werewolf, just to really get their goats," George said sourly, reaching for a tray of floating glasses. "champagne, Katie?"
"Yes, thanks," Katie said a touch too gratefully, "listen, how long will it take to get something for Colin, do you think? Who will get the job done fastest?"
"Ready to leave already?" a boy said from behind them.
"Not that I blame you," another boy said.
"Frankie!" Katie said, "Christopher!" She tipped back the glass and swallowed the entire flute of champagne.
"Oh," George said, "yeah. You two. Ginny said you were alright."
"Where's Isadore?" Katie said, looking at the brothers who were decidedly alone, "where's Quiggly?" Draco Malfoy and some Greengrass girl were announced, "oh ew, let's move."
"Couldn't agree more," George said, "ugh, it's Narcissa and Lucifer as well." An evil smile sprang to his face, "on the other hand, I do so enjoy getting Lucius to donate money to things he hates so he doesn't get thrown into Azkaban where he belongs." He made to untangle from Katie.
"Don't you dare," she hissed, digging her nails into George.
She was wearing this glittering gold getup because of George, after all. Ange had taken one look at it, quirked an eyebrow, and asked if she should be worried.
"He's living his 007 fantasies," Ron had said wisely, "Katie's his Bond girl. Don't worry."
As that had been incomprehensible to everyone not raised by Muggles, Katie hadn't had to deal with Ange socking her in the face for being George's Bond girl for the night.
"It's not that," George had assured her as they Apparated to the Bletchely's summer manson of pureblood tomfoolery, "it's that I wanted Montague to see you all rich and sultry and not because of something he did, you know?"
It had made perfect sense to Katie. But maybe that had been the second mini bottle of wine she'd snuck when George wasn't looking that was doing her thinking.
"Where do you think they are?" Christopher snorted, "the American and the gay Hufflepuff Half-blood?" he joined them in snagging a glass of champagne. He was wearing the most staid dress robes Katie had ever seen, and she'd seen Draco "The Vicar" Malfoy at the Yule Ball that one time.
"So why am I here?" Katie said, "Surely I'm worse than Quiggly and Isadore to this set."
"You're my date," George said cheerfully, his eyes still watching the Malfoys with an evil smile playing on his lips, "remember?"
"Finally threw Johnson over?" Frankie said, "well, Cassius will be thrilled."
"I'm a multi-woman wizard," George said, his eyes narrowing as the Malfoys neared.
"That's odd," Frankie said, I was under the distinct impression that Bell hates that."
Katie sighed.
"We're here as friends," she said, "obviously."
She'd pointed out to George repeatedly that this had been the flaw in his genius plan. Percy had pointed it out. Hermione had pointed it out. Harry had pointed it out. But George had insisted Katie showing up with him looking like a golden floozy was the way to make Montague lose his mind.
"My brother won't think of it that way," Frankie said, "he's probably off somewhere getting sedated by Adrian so he won't start a wizard duel."
George shot Katie a brief look of triumph. Fine. George did know Montague's twisted mind best. It wasn't something to brag about, for heaven's sake.
"Oh sorry, am I supposed to feel sorry for him?" Katie said breezily, "why doesn't he go cry to his fiance about it?" She'd almost said "cry into the giant tits of his fiance" and controlled herself at the last moment. It wasn't a good idea to look jealous.
"Oh, her," Christopher grimaced, "she'll just tell him crying is for people who can't control their emotions."
George guffawed.
"She's a complete robot," Frankie said.
"How dare you disparage the good name of C-3PO like that," Katie said, head swimming a little too much already, "he's the most emotional hunk of metal in existence. Puts Cho to shame."
She felt a stab of remorse at that last. It had just slipped out. She'd liked Cho for years. Just because they'd all spent those two years in sixth and seventh year thinking she was a crybaby when the poor girl had seen her boyfriend dead on the ground in front of her...teenagers were really monsters.
"You know," Frankie said, grinning, "it's nice that someone gets my references for once."
"Oh, you'll love this, then," George said, "I'm Bond. George Bond. Any martinis around that need to be shaken, not stirred?"
As James Bond impressions went, it was far below Geroge's usual material, but Frankie laughed all the same with apparent delight. God. Montague must not have been lying about the wretched state of pureblood events.
Christopher's smile was becoming more and more forced at the confusing Muggle references being bandied about.
"So who are you then?" Frankie said, turning to Katie, "Pussy Galore?"
Christopher choked on his champagne.
The Malfoys sailed by, a sea of white blonde hair, tiny pointed noses, and faces begging to be punched repeatedly. Lucius's eyes flicked briefly to Katie. One bleached eyebrow went up the smallest amount. Katie felt herself actually move to punch him, before George squeezed her tighter. That was it. She'd lost her mind.
"It will be funnier if he spends half his gold on statues," George hissed in her ear.
"But the broken nose," Katie whined back under her breath into his good ear.
"Pussy Galore?"Christopher practically shouted after clearing champagne from his airway, "Frankie, what has Graham been telling you about-"
"What's going on here?" Montague said from behind them, and Katie turned, still angry from seeing the stupid faces of the stupid Malfoys, who had suffered no punishment for their parts in torture, murder, imprisonment, and mind control when so many others had died for doing nothing wrong.
"What are you saying about my girlfriend, Chris?"
Hovering behind Montague like nervous hens were Higgs and Pucey. For some morityfing reason, Katie felt her cheeks flush. It had been ten years. She knew by Montague's loose lips that Higgs liked men. But her inner eleven year old was flustered just the same. She was dressed like a golden floozy in front of Terence Higgs! And he was still extremely cute!
"Oh, it's you," George said, like Montague was a pile of vomit, "where's your mate, old sloth face? I was so dying for him to try to maim me tonight over Ange."
"I believe he's already owling Johnson since he thinks you've thrown her over," Higgs said.
His eyes flicked briefly over Katie, totally innocently, but she still went redder. Fucking hell. She really needd to stop drinking. Everyone had told her that. Well, everyone but George. And Montague. And Montague most like so he could get up her skirt again while she was impaired, forgetting what a throbbing arsehole he was.
"What if I have?" George said, deliberately throwing an arm around Katie's waist, watching Montague with a look worthy of a Slytherin.
The murderous look on Montague's face made Katie realize what a mistake this had all been. She'd dumped him. She'd ignored his owls. She should've ended it that way.
"He's kidding," Katie said wearily as Montague clenched his fists, "right, George? Can someone get me some bloody champagne? I'm bored to death."
"Here you go," Higgs said, and Katie mortified herself by flushing when their hands accidentally touched. Montague looked twice as likely to commit homicide. It wasn't her fault! It was her inner twelve year old!
"Thanks," Katie said, and she drank it in one go.
"Wow," Frankie said, "you must be as bored as I am."
"I am," Katie assured him, "George, get off of me, Ange won't appreciate it when someone tells her some stupid lies about us later. Montague, get that ridiculous look off your face."
"Which Montague?" Higgs said cheerfully, "More champagne, Bell?"
"Please," Katie said, "I can't take this anymore. How can you all breathe the same air as the Malfoys?"
"I told you," Montague said. He'd unclenched his fists and attempted to look less angry, but it wasn't very convincing, "I told you that this sort of thing was torture, didn't I? Want to leave and go somewhere more fun?"
"Yes," Frankie and Christopher said in unison.
"No," Katie and George said together.
"No?" Pucey said, "say, you didn't bring Alicia with you, did you?"
"Do you see her stuffed up my arse, Pucey?" George said rudely, "Katie, let's go mingle. We've got a job to do."
"And what's that?" Montague demanded, "listen, Bell, did you get my owls? I've been trying to-"
"Oh look, it's Bletchley Senior," George said, "let's go fleece some money from him. I'm thinking a summer school for Muggleborns the year before they go to Hogwarts in Colin's name, what do you think, Katie?"
"With a statue," Katie said, "we can't forget the golden statues. Also, it should probably be earlier than the summer before. They need more time to prepare."
It hadn't been easy, finding out she was a witch. She'd had to lose all her friends, for one. She still had Ruby and Sandra and Julia, but they could never be truly close. Not when Katie was constantly lying to them. Her parents didn't understand her. Her childhood dreams had ended. But at the same time everything that had been weird about her in the years before had finally made sense. All the times things had broken, or the time her hair had turned emerald green after swimming in a pool. Bill had given her a lecture about the effects of chlorine so many times she'd emerged after that first pool trip like a citizen of the Emerald City. Of course, chlorine turned blonde hair toxic sludge lemon lime green, not Emerald. But little Katie hadn't known that. Her parents had laughed nervously and said she must've gotten into Bill's paint. She had been scared but excited to start school. And then she'd realized within seconds of meeting her fellow classmates on the train how little she knew about anything, and how they knew everything.
Katie's confidence, which had once been sky high, born of two loving and supportive parents and delightful friends, had plummeted. Her sense of belonging had disappeared, and only partially returned when she made the Quidditch team. She had never been the same person again.
She missed Little Katie. Little Katie would've grown into a woman who would not have given Montague a second look at that club. Laughed at him, then walked away. Or else Little Katie grown up would've shagged him and not given one single bloody fuck what anyone else said about that, or what they said about her dating Montague. Who would've told him to fuck off for having a fiance and moved on, secure in herself. But this Katie had been damaged long ago, and never quite healed right.
George started to lead her to a dandy of a man in a robe of diamonds and silk.
"That's Bletchley senior," he said in her ear, "really work his piss poor war record. We could probably get a few million galleons out of him."
"Katie," Montague said from behind them, and she was surprised to hear the vulnerable note in his voice, the usage of her first name, all in front of his brothers and mates, "please. Just a moment. Let me explain."
She paused.
"Katie," George hissed, "think of why we pushed him into the vanishing cabinet."
She started to turn away again. George was right. Little Katie grown would've known to do that.
"He hates her," Pucey said in a rush, "Tatiana. She's awful. Really, he doesn't want to marry her."
"He's told her to her face he doesn't want to marry her," Higgs added, "in front of other pureblood girls, in fact. They've been gossiping about her for months. Everyone knows it."
"Funny," George said, turning back, clearly at the end of his patience, "I've never heard a word about it."
"When's the last time you willingly were around a pure-blood woman?" Frankie asked.
"Yesterday," George said, raising an eyebrow, "I call her mum. Two days ago, I saw this pure-blood bird I call Ginny. You know, my-"
"Sister," all the other blokes but Montague said in unison.
"Got it," Pucey said, rolling his eyes, "you're very amusing."
"He is," Katie said sharply, snagging yet another glass of champagne from a passing house elf. She had a mad urge to pull out one of the S.P.E.W. badges Hermione had stuffed into her tiny golden purse. Tiny on the outside, giant on the inside, one of Hermione's specialties. Perfect for holding a million badges to spring on unsuspecting house elves with a deranged gleam in your eye. "Very amusing."
Montague looked like he was suffering from constipation. Maybe she'd send him some U-No-Poo as a parting gift.
"Hilarious," Montague said sarcastically, "My favorite part is when Weasley stuffs you into-"
Higgs trod on his foot. "What Frank means," he said, a touch too loudly, to drown out Montague, "is when was the last time you were around a group of pureblood girls who adhere to the old ways?"
"Funny," George said, gesturing around them, "I thought I was right now."
"And you're willingly talking to one?" Frankie said, "right now?"
"Point taken," George said grudgingly, "I suppose I could find one of those pureblood birds to talk about tea cakes and dowries and dancing cards. I didn't want to have to stab myself in my one good ear just yet, but the night is young."
Montague snorted a laugh.
Everyone's mouth dropped. Including George's. Except Katie, who grabbed a glass of champagne. No. George couldn't like him now. Absolutely not. She needed his strength to keep herself in check.
"See," George said, raising a ginger brow, "Katie told you I was hilarious."
Christopher snickered.
"I did like the swamp you made," he said, "that one time. That Filch had to row people across." He clarified, as if there had been many times George had created a swamp. Then again, it was George.
The tiniest muscle twitched in George's jaw, but only Katie saw it and knew he was thinking of Fred.
"Some of our finest work," George said lightly, "heard Flitwick still has a tiny piece of it memorialized."
"That he does," Christopher said, "it was a life changing moment for me. I went home and threw mum's favorite picture of Graham in a lake in tribute."
George laughed along with Montague's mates and brothers. Katie chugged more champagne.
"Thanks," Montague said, "I looked like a hairy boiled ham in that photo," he looked directly at Katie, like it was an offering of love. Fucking idiot.
"I'm sure you did," Katie said, "good job, Christopher. Though the trout were most likely stricken blind."
"This is the best party I've been to in ages," Higgs said, looking delighted.
"Is it?" the drawling tones of Draco Malfoy said from behind Katie, "don't say that in front of mum. She'll cry that no one loved her Arabian Nights themed dance party. I told her not to hire that troop of male dancers and put them in silk crop tops and harem pants, but she insisted."
Katie stiffened. George's arm was back around her waist. His other hand flew to his right trouser pocket, where she knew he had stashed his wand. she stared blindly at the nearest golden statue. It was a nymph playing a harp with her tits out for some reason. Her ears were ringing, her face burning.
"Hello, Draco," Frankie was saying, but his voice sounded like it was underwater. Was he being friendly? Was he glaring? Was anyone going to do anything? She hadn't been this close to Malfoy since she'd found out from Harry that he'd been the one to curse her. A blur of screaming pain echoed in her mind, the cold snow, the burn of the curse making its way through her blood, boiling her alive.
"Let's go," George said, steering Katie away, "the stench of Death Eater is making me ill."
Desperately, Katie wanted to obey. But could she walk without falling over?
"There's no call for that," Pucey said, "Draco has repented. He gave all that money to McGonagall for new textbooks for poor students and made serious strides toward–"
Without another word, (which was when you knew it was serious with the Weasley twins) George walked away, dragging Katie so forcefully her feet left the floor for a moment. She clutched back at George. She really was a Bond girl now. It was the only thing she could think coherently. People were talking to them as George dragged her away, practically in his arms.
"Bell," Montague said again, "don't–"
All of a sudden Malfoy was in front of them with a contrite frown. There were bags under his eyes she'd never seen in the many photos of him run in the papers. His hair was too long, his skin pale even for him. His robes were cut slim, but up close Katie could see they were still too large. He looked horrible, even for Malfoy.
"Katie," Malfoy said through the ringing in her ears, "I wanted to say that–"
"Fuck off," George hurled, "get out of our way," he shoved Malfoy, whose slight frame half fell over onto a passing house elf with a plater of brie coated salmon bites.
"Watch it," Malfoy snarled at the house elf, who was wisting her ears in punishment, trembling in distress at her mistake, "you stupid–"
"Don't you talk to her like that!" Katie heard herself shouting. George was no longer holding her. She'd torn herself from his grasp. "How fucking dare you!"
She realized that she'd slapped Malfoy. Her hand was stinging. Malfoy was on the ground. Lucius had started to shout, realized it was one of the heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts yelling at his precious son and trailed off. His constipated expression said he was filled with the same fear that filled every pureblood who'd done nothing in the second war or worse, fought on the wrong side when confronted with an angry member of Dumbledore's Army.
"You should be in Azkaban!" Katie heard herself shouting as she turned to Lucius anyway. He'd stopped himself from yelling at her for yelling at precious Draco, but it was too late. She pointed at him in righteous accusation, "and everyone knows it! Death Eater scum." Draco had gotten to his feet, cheek red. He didn't look angry.
"And you," Katie said, turning to the man George had identified as Bletchley senior, who was holding a pice of salmon halfway to his mouth, frozen in horror at what was happening at his charity ball, "you spent more money on this stupid ball then you've ever donated to anything worthy. Why don't you build a school for Muggleborns to attend before Hogwarts, or order giant golden statues of all the dead heroes from the war, or, or, make sure the centaurs get an award for traumatizing Umbridge or something! Make sure Professor McGonagall gets a chocolate card! Um, donate to S.P.E.W.!"
"Too far," George murmured from behind her.
"And you," Katie said, as her eyes fell on Helena Montague with a group of similarly overdressed pureblood witches, "stop showing up at my flat uninvited to judge my day drinking! And learn to love chocolate cake like a normal person!"
She had no idea how it happened, but she had pushed her way through the silent crowd to the entry hall and the Apparition point without realizing it, George cackling behind her the whole way. She almost ran into a girl with a perfect tiny body and green eyes, her raven hair shining like Snow White. In fact, the girl could cosplay Snow White at a children's birthday party and no one would be able to tell the difference. It didn't improve Katie's mood.
Tatiana Prewett's left eyebrow rose. Her eyes traveled down Katie's body. She looked at Katie, who was dressed like a golden escort, and was being chased by George Weasley in a tuxedo. Her perfect Snow White mouth opened, presumably to sing in unison with birds and squirrels who crowned her the prettiest girl in all the world.
"Hi Ho to you too," Katie blustered like an absolute utter raving maniac. She pulled out her wand.
"Hey cousin," George said amiably, still chuckling, "better let me, Katie. You're really drunk."
"No I'm not," Katie said, wrestling for her wand back. It was her downfall.
"Bell," Montague said, "don't leave, I have to tell you that–" his voice trailed off. Against her will, Katie looked at Tatiana Prewett, and then turned to look at Montague.
"Oh, balls," Pucey groaned from behind Montague, who's face had drained of color.
For some godforsaken reason, Malfoy was still trailing behind Montague's friends and brothers, his cheek tinged with purple now. How hard had Katie hit him? Nevermind, it was never hard enough.
"Graham," Tatiana said. Even her voice was beautiful.
"I love chocolate cake," Montague blurted, the color rushing back into his face all at once. He looked like a boiled ham again, even if he had fixed his nose and his ears and his bulk and his hairiness.
"I know," Katie heard herself saying coldly, "you received the brooms back?"
"I sent them to Jones," Montague said.
More people wandered near the Apparition point, pretending like they weren't eavesdropping with utmost desperation due to their refined manners. Pansy Parkinson was even pretending to talk wildly to Astoria Greengrass, though neither woman was actually speaking, and just opening their mouths and closing them.
"So you could use them for the next match," Montague explained.
"I'll burn them in the pits of hell instead," Katie vowed.
"You know where the pits of hell are?" Frankie said, looking wildly amused. He had spotted Astoria and Pansy silently flapping their mouths like carp and nudged Christopher with a snicker.
"I just have to go to a pureblood mansion once I get the brooms," Katie said coldly, "it won't take long to spot the hell pit. Satan will help me burn them."
"I really would like to apologize," Malfoy said, "I see you're not ready to accept, but–"
"Piss off, Draco," Montague said, not looking back. He was even redder. "Katie–"
"I thought you weren't going to be here tonight, Graham," Tatiana said, her voice even colder than Katie's, "isn't that what we agreed, to keep your play-thing happy?"
Montague's friends winced. George made a noise like a cat being stepped on.
"We've mapped out the whole month together, " Tatiana said, stepping closer, so Katie was forced to look at her perfection while she needled Montague, "so we are separated in public. And yet here you both are."
"Let's go," George hissed to Katie, "we had our fun, we got our answers, Bletchley will be forced into building a school now–"
"No," Katie hissed back. Leave? Now? When Montague's lies were finally being revealed right in front of them? Her ears were still ringing oddly, her body going from heat to chills and back again.
"I'm never marrying you," Montague said loudly, and Astoria and Pansy abandoned all pretense and gaped directly at them.
Tatiana smiled. "That's not what you said last–"
"I love Katie," Montague said, even louder. Someone actually fainted behind him. It was Aunt Celia.
"Gross," George said, gagging in Katie's ear.
"Do you?" Tatiana said coolly. "You have a funny way of showing it."
"I agree," Katie said, "anyway, I don't want him. Have fun marrying into that horror show. Say hi to Satan for me."
"Watch how you speak about mum," Frankie said, still looking wildly amused.
"I love her," Montague repeated, "I won't ever marry you, Tatiana." Maybe it should've been romantic. But he wasn't telling Katie. He wasn't even looking at her.
"Of course, that's what you'll say in frnog of her," Tatiana said, looking cool as a cucumber, entirely the opposite of Katie of course, "funny how you say different when she's not around."
All of a sudden Katie wanted to leave. This was no longer cathartic to witness. It had moved past the step she needed to cut Graham Montague out of her life and into something far more hurtful. It felt like she'd been stabbed.
"Okay, let's go," she said to George under her breath.
"I regret it," Malfoy said loudly, "I was trying to save my mum from being killed by You-Know-Who."
"Voldemort!" Katie screamed, using every ounce of repressed emotion, feeling savage satisfaction at every Slytherins wince, coupled with that bone deep feeling of inadequacy she'd felt since starting Hogwarts and realizing she wasn't wanted or even tolerated by a third of the school. Tatiana was looking at her just like Helena Montgue had when she'd screamed at her about chocolate cake. Like she was everything she expected. Trashy and lacking in manners and slutty and Mudblood through and through. "His name is Voldemort, you fucking coward!"
Impotently, she picked up the nearest object and threw it at Malfoy. It was a dish of chocolate mousse in a solid chocolate shell shaped like a rabbit. It smacked Tatiana Prewett in the cheek. In slow motion, Katie, George, the Montague brothers, Malfoy, Montague's friends, and the flapping mouths of Pansy and Astoria watched as the chocolate rabbit turned, spilling the mousse down the fashionably chic robes of Tatiana Prewett, which Katie had now noticed were off white and made of the finest silk. The rabbit thumped to the floor and cracked in half.
"Waste of good chocolate," George sighed.
"That was meant for the ferret!" Katie blustered. She snatched her wand back from George as Tatiana wiped mousse off of her perfect face, looking down at her ruined robes.
"Katie!" Montague tried to say, but it was too late, she'd grabbed George and Apparated away.
"You know," George said, as they strolled around the fanciest part of London, arm in arm, "we are a bit overdressed for this."
Katie hobbled along, feeling the blisters bursting on her feet but refusing to concede defeat, "I was hoping we could find a stray opera or ballet or something," she muttered, "to make use of our outfits."
"Or I could just take you home," George said, eyebrows raised, "get you some sleep."
"Like I could sleep now," Katie said, "and you know he's banging on our door. Sending gifts to fill the entire flat. There's probably four thosuand Howlers."
"So you left Ange and Alicia to deal with that?" George said, brows raising higher.
"I'm hoping they'll kill him and solve my problem," Katie said gloomily. "Or say, do you think Dean Thomas would date me?"
"Yes," George said at once, "I'm sure of it."
"Er, really?" Katie said, turning to George in surprise, "I didn't think he would be interested in me."
"From what Harry told me he had a picture of you kissing him after winning the cup that year,'' George said, "in his bed stand, during their sixth year. It was after Ginny and him had broken up, but Harry still made note of it, in case he had to sabotage Dean's relationship with my sister in the future. Harry's a little vindictive shit sometimes, not that anyone notices."
"Montague noticed," Katie said automatically, but her brain was elsewhere, "what do you mean, a picture of me kissing Dean?" her brain seemed stuck. When had she ever kissed Dean? They'd won the cup together, sure, but–
"What?" George said, his amused expression dropping when he peered closer at her face, "you weren't aware you led Dean on, and he's had a little crush for–"
Katie stopped in front of a store that sold purses that cost more than anything she'd owned, save that five minutes she'd owned a Firebolt 3000.
"On the cheek?" she said slowly, "you mean he has a picture of me kissing him on the cheek?"
She didn't recall that either, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. She was freer with her hugs and cheek kisses after Quidditch cups. She distinctly remembered tackling Oliver in her fourth year, nuzzling his neck like she was a zombie attacking her prey in a horror film. Oliver had been crying with joy and somehow ended up licking her neck in return. It had probably looked obscene to anyone who witnessed it and didn't know the depths of both of their Quidditch obsession well.
"No," George said slowly, as inside the purse store with a pretentious designer's name the bouncer glared at them, shifting foot to foot like he was going to come out and bodyslam them to the pavement for daring to pause in front of the store, "on the mouth. I mean, it wasn't just a kiss, Katie. It was a full on snog. The photo goes on for quite a –"
Hair was raising up and down her arms, goosebumps breaking out on her whole body.
"It was me?" Katie demanded, giving up all pretense, "it was me and Dean? You're sure?"
"Yes,'' George said, "bloody hell Katie, it's not like I haven't caught you doing stuff like that before. Why are you acting so–"
"What do you mean?" Katie said, "what does that mean? I didn't mean to look like I was eating Oliver's brains that one time, I swear!"
"Uh," George said, "what? I'm talking about after the battle. With my brother?"
"Your brother?" Katie asked, "Which one?"
"Charlie," George said slowly, "he told me you two had…well I mean, he didn't want to tell me, but I half saw it, sorry. You threw a book at me, remember? You were in McGonagall's classroom? I was pretty mad at Charlie at the time, but I get it. He was trying to block out what had happened with…" George paused, sighly, "with Fred. That's what we were all trying to do. He apologized, said he didn't know we were friends. I thought you two were going to date, and then–"
"What are you talking about?" Katie fairly screamed. She had never kissed Dean Thomas. She had never kissed Charlie Weasley, never mind fucked him. She had only fucked three guys in her entire life, in fact, and the stupid arse whose fiance she'd just thrown chocolate mousse at was one of them. And that had only been, and would only ever be, a one time thing. She'd make sure of it.
A faint alarm bell rang in her mind. The lingering kisses to the cheek Charlie often gave her upon greeting. The way Dean had smiled at her during Alicia's birthday party, until he'd seen Montague hug her, shirtless and sweaty after they had been playing football. Then Dean had ignored her the rest of the day, even if he'd been welcoming to Montague. She'd assumed it was disgust over her relationship with Montague. But had it been something worse?
"I never told anyone," George assured her, "don't worry. I think you half broke Charlie's heart. I mean, he's rarely interested in a girl. Fred was convinced he liked blokes, actually. Then I saw him on top of you on McGonagall's desk…" George grimaced.
"George," Katie said, and she was shocked at how calm her voice suddenly sounded, "you need to stop joking. Right now."
"Sorry," George said, "I shouldn't, it's just I have to joke to get that memory out of my head of my brother and one of my best mates…"
"I said stop it!" Katie said, screaming. Or she attempted to scream. It came out as a whisper so quiet she didn't hear it.
"And then Ange told me you'd taken up with a junior healer, whatshisname, Lambert," George continued, oblivious, "so I let Charlie down easy. I mean, it wasn't like you weren't both using each other, even if he barely ever liked a girl."
"Lambert?" Katie said, feeling the blood leave her head. She had always thought Charlie was cute. She'd seen photos of him in Oliver's possession, and she'd always liked Quidditch blokes. Dean had gotten hot that year they'd won the cup together, there was no way around it. And Lambert had been one of the healers she'd seen after the war for routine spell damage checks. Benoit Lambert had been two years out of Beauxbatons, doing an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's ward for long term spell damage. He had been dark haired, French, and gorgeous, and had told Katie all about his own experience playing for one of Beauxbaton's house team whose name she'd forgotten no matter how many times Lambert had told her and smiled.
"Dragonnes Argent," Katie whispered, her teeth chattering. Why was it so cold now?
"What?" George said, "what is that?"
"The Quidditch team Lambert played for at Beauxbatons," Katie said, her terror increasing, "I thought I forgot that. I thought I never remembered that." She saw Benoit Lambert twice a year, as his patient. Benoit had been professional, and courteous, no matter how dreamy she'd found him. Katie hadn't seen him for the past year, though. She'd assumed he'd gone back to France, apprenticeship over. But she hadn't asked anyone. Had she? And could she trust any of her memories anymore?
"Ange said I was fucking Benoit Lambert?" Katie said slowly, the fear receding. She was past fear now. It was like during the battle. She'd transcended fear, and now had nothing to lose.
"Er, no," George said, "she said you'd gone on some dates, I think. Charlie knew he couldn't compete with some suave French bloke. Ange was thrilled you were finally doing something fun and young. I didn't tell her about Charlie, you know. You both made me swear."
"Did I?" Katie said. Her voice sounded normal to her own ears.
"Yeah, and frankly I didn't want know more about your sex life," George grimaced, "I already know too much."
"More than I do," Katie said, her voice still calm. "Can you take me home, George?''
If her suspicions were correct, one of two theories would be proven true. The other option was that someone was stealing her hair or toenail clippings and impersonating her.
Montague wasn't outside the door of the flat, but he had been, two hours ago, Ange informed George irritably as Katie waded through the pile of owls and presents and exploded Howlers. Percy was holding ice packs to his ears. Ron was sucking on a burnt finger. and he was here an hour ago, Alicia added.
"And five minutes ago," Ginny had put in, and then congratulated George on keeping Katie away long enough to miss him.
There was discussion of the chocolate mousse, and the slap, but Katie was too busy grabbing the phone that only she ever used, turning it over, flipping through the caller ID with shaking fingers. Everyone cheered and laughed as George recounted the night, Oliver slapping Katie on the back as she stared at the call log on the phone, going back and back and back, for months. She tried not to flinch. Had it been more than that zombie nuzzling hug with Oliver, as well? He fit the type of what she'd been doing, after all. Or her doppleganger had been doing, but that theory was looking less and less likely as she stared at the phone. There was one number that had called the flat, and had been called from the flat, over fifty times. Katie picked up the tiny book she kept phone numbers in on the desk the phone was on, hands shaking harder. She flipped through to the last page she'd written numbers in.
"And then, "George said, "she told Lucius he should be in Azkaban!" Cheers sounded, and claps.
"Katie," Oliver said, his hand on her shoulder now, "are you okay?"
"Oliver," Katie said, staring at the number that she'd talked to so many times in the past few months. "Answer me a question honestly, would you?"
"Of course," Oliver said, "always."
"Then she told Draco Malfoy he was a fucking coward and called him a ferret!" George said gleefully.
The cheers doubled. Nearby, another owl flew in the window with another present, presumably from Montague, to apologize for playing a game with his fiance to torment Katie.
"Have we ever fucked?" Katie asked, looking up from the address book. Her hands were still shaking. The way Oliver went bright red and looked away was answer enough.
"Katie…"
"That's what I thought," Katie said, her voice calm, her hands stilling. She stared at the number she'd seen so often in the caller ID. Next to it was written:
Nate, cute bartender.
Author's Notes: My friends and loyal readers/reviewers who I love dearly, thank you so much for your continual support. I am sorry for the delay, real life has been wild lately. Much love!
