Chapter 7
The Uncharacteristically Decent Holiday
When the last week of school for the year came around, I couldn't be more than ecstatic. The general mood of the castle had lifted as students finished their exams, submitted their projects, and prepared for Slughorn's Christmas party on the Friday before we departed for London, which neither Lacey and I were attending. The year couldn't have ended on a better note than that.
While the looming doom of spending Christmas with both my parents in the same house still awaited me, when Friday came, nothing could destroy my mood as I dropped the finishing touches to my Potions project in first period. The cheerful bubbles emitting from the cauldron looked spot on and the golden antidote brewing next to it definitely looked better than the yellow sludge Rory and Adam cooked up behind me.
To my right was Regulus who was casually stirring the antidote cauldron. Ever since our confrontation in the library last week, we hadn't had a proper conversation since. We'd managed to stay civil enough to produce a good Potions project but our exchanges went from "Pass me the ladle," to "It's got a nice color to it, eh?"
It wasn't a particularly bothersome aspect of my life. The last thing I expected was to come out of this as friends. The very concept of that almost made me vomit into my cauldron. Suppose I appreciated that he kept his mouth to himself and preserved our distance. Standing next to him four times a week already made me more uncomfortable than being next to my mother.
"Regulus, m'boy!"
I warily watched Slughorn make his way to our table with a warm smile on his face. Regulus politely smiled back.
"Oho!" Slughorn said happily, taking a look at our project. "Fantastic job, m'boy! Looks no different from mine!"
The fact he spoke to Regulus and completely ignored me standing there couldn't even damper my mood. But I cleared my throat in an effort to get at least some of the bloody credit.
Slughorn's eyes darted to me and his smile didn't falter.
"Good job, Derry," he said with a tight nod.
"Who?" I heard Rory say from behind me.
But Slughorn didn't seem to hear as he stalked away to compliment Carter Robins. I sighed and looked proudly at my potions, happy to know I'd be getting at least one outstanding grade before the holidays.
By the time Potions ended I was practically skipping to Lacey who waited for me by the door. She smiled broadly back and hooked her arm around mine, making our way back to the common room to enjoy our free period.
"Last Potions class of the year, isn't it amazing?" Lacey said cheerfully.
"I'm over the bloody moon," I said with a grin. "Can't believe I actually did well in a project with Regulus Black."
"I know, shows you can work with anyone, eh?" Lacey snorted.
"Finally something to talk about during my first job interview," I agreed, laughing and mockingly recited, "I'm adaptable and can persevere working with difficult people."
"Including future Death Eaters," Lacey added.
I frowned. "I think I'll leave out that bit."
"Hm, yeah, you probably should…"
"How do you think job hunting will turn out after we graduate anyway?" I asked. "Can't imagine much variety when we're at war."
"I'm sure there'll be something," Lacey said perkily. "They're probably looking for a bunch of people in the Ministry to help out. My parents said they're looking for more Healers too."
I nodded, but not truly convinced a job at the Ministry would suit me. Having been there a couple of times, it felt weird to imagine myself working late nights at a desk and catering to my boss' every paper requirement. It was probably the most similar counterpart of my dad's job working for a big corporation in the Muggle world, and with the incessant ramblings of his poor work-life balance and nasty cases of gender discrimination, it wasn't particularly appealling.
"You've figured out what you wanted to do then?" I asked Lacey, genuinely curious if she'd found a passion she wanted to pursue in the midst of the growing war.
"Well, both my parents are Healers," she said. "My dad's been pressuring me to get into potions-induced injuries like him."
I looked at her, astounded. "I'm sorry, Lace, but the last thing I'd expect you to do after Hogwarts is anything to do with Potions."
"I know right!" she exclaimed. "Healer's not that bad an option but I'd rather treat those blokes with Dragon Pox."
"I'm sure all Healers need to be good potioneers though," I reminded her.
"I'm aware," she said bitterly. "Why d'you think I'm keeping my options open?"
I shook my head fondly and our conversation was cut short when we reached the Fat Lady's portrait. I quickly gave the password and we were granted access to the common room.
As we entered, it was packed with older students enjoying free period or skipping out. A group of seventh year boys in particular claimed the large space by the fireplace, three lounging on the couch and one sprawled on his back on the carpet.
Two girls sat with them, one pretty blonde who listened boredly to Potter who spoke animatedly with his hands and a dark-haired girl with a sullen look on her face. I recognized them both as seventh years but I couldn't quite remember their names. Probably the most bizzare thing to come out of this school year was having as many encounters with my seniors more often than I ever expected to.
"We can't all have free period, can we?" Lacey said, frowning at the large crowd in the common room.
"Guess we're hanging in the dormitory," I said, eyes quickly scanning the area and spotting no empty seats.
Lacey and I zigzagged our way to the girls' staircase, sidestepping the happy Gryffindors. At one point I had to duck when a Quaffle flew over my head and I briefly wondered how on earth they managed to sneak it into the castle.
After the struggle of getting through the crowd, I nearly collided with a redheaded girl who skipped downstairs from the dormitories at the bottom of the staircase.
"Oh, sorry!" she gasped, halting just in time before we bumped into one another.
I blinked and instantly recognized her as Lily Evans, recalling our encounter in the library a few weeks before.
"My fault," I said quickly, stepping aside to let her pass.
"No worries," Evans said politely with a smile. "Nice to see you again. How've you been doing?"
"I'm good, yeah," I said, surprised at her attempt to start a conversation. "You still tutoring?"
She laughed lightly. "No, I told my professor I couldn't handle tutoring and studying for the NEWTs at the same time. Best decision I've made so far, I think."
I felt a sharp jab on my side and I muffled a whimper. I shot Lacey a glare who pointedly gestured her head to Lily Evans.
"Right, this is Lacey," I introduced her with a tight look, visibly in pain and mentally reminding myself to throw something solid at her head later.
"Hi, I'm Lily." Evans smiled.
Lacey grinned back. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Evans said
Then a yell rang out to interrupt their introductions.
"Oi, Lily!"
Lacey and I turned to find one of the girls with the Marauders, standing by the fireplace with an annoyed look on her face.
"Quit taking your sweet time, yeah?" she barked. "Potter hasn't stopped talking about Quidditch plays for the past thirty minutes! I swear, one more time he mentions the two by two technique, I'm going to sell his plans to the Slytherins."
"Oi!" Potter snapped from the couch.
"I'm coming, Marlene," Evans groaned as she made her way towards the group. "Stop being a cow."
Considering myself excused, I was nearly able to make my way upstairs without getting noticed. Unfortunately, life as usual had its own twisted plans.
"Dyer, is that you?"
My step froze and I slowly turned to acknowledge my caller. The group of seventh years directed their attention towards me and Lacey, who clearly couldn't slip out quietly enough.
Black, who was the first to notice, sat up from his position on the floor and casually leaned against the corner of the couch.
"Haven't seen you all week," Black said. "You avoiding us or something?"
"Wait, who's this?" Marlene asked bluntly, confused at the ongoing conversation.
"Manners, Mar." Evans rolled her eyes.
"I believe introductions are in order!" Black said, looking strangely excited. "Marlene, Dorcas, this is Dyer. Dyer, she's Marlene and that's Dorcas." He gestured first to the irate girl next to Evans then to the pretty blonde.
"Pleasure," I said blandly.
"And that's Lacey, her friend. Our friend now because she lets me call her by her first name," Black finished proudly.
"I let you call me Marlene but I'm not your friend," Marlene said, eyebrows raised.
"And yet, here you are, enjoying my company," Black said with a wink.
I wrinkled my nose and tried to quickly think of an escape route that didn't classify as rude.
"Wait," Marlene began, eyes curiously darting from me to Black. "Isn't she the girl you asked to Slughorn's party and rejected you?"
I pursed my lips. Did the vanishing spell work on people? Would be a serious option to make myself disappear without a word.
"That," Black started, confidence faltering, "is not entirely accurate."
"You're officially my hero," Marlene said to me.
"Oh, I can see why you'd like her," Dorcas said with a knowing look, head peeking over the armchair. "She looks a bit like Mary, doesn't she?"
I stood still, not entirely sure how I was supposed to react to that. As I wondered who in Merlin's name was Mary, Marlene seemed to agree with her friend, slowly moving her head up and down with wide eyes.
"I see it a bit, yeah," Marlene said, calculating look scanning me from top to bottom. "Hairstyle, height, and all."
"Don't give me that rubbish," Black said with a roll of his eyes.
"Who's Mary?" Lacey asked and I tried to shoot her a glare from the corner of my eyes but she seemed to be invested in the topic of conversation.
Traitor.
"Oh, she's Sirius' ex-girlfriend," Dorcas answered. "They've been on and off since fifth year."
"Too much information, don't you think, Dorcas?" Black said with a sarcastic smile. "And sorry to disappoint you but Dyer and I are just mutual acquaintances. I asked her to the party because Prongs wanted to bring her friend."
"Who?" Evans suddenly snapped, eyes darting briefly to Lacey.
"He just wanted an excuse to piss Slughorn off," Lacey quickly explained herself. "I said no!"
Evans, looking stiff, opened her mouth but stopped herself before she could say anything. She shifted her eyes away from Lacey and crossed her arms, shooting Potter and Black a glare.
"When will you two stop harassing women for your own self-enjoyment?" Evans said, mood undeniably sour.
"I agree, it's disgusting," Marlene said with a nod.
"Ladies, I apologized to her," Black said with his hands up in defense. "Quite sincerely, if I must say."
"Why do I doubt that?" Dorcas said with a thoughtful look. "Oh, right, because you and Potter are gits."
"Wait, how'd I get dragged into this?" Potter said, looking utterly confused.
"Evans is just disappointed you didn't ask her," Black said casually.
Evans barked out a comical laugh. "You'd be surprised to know someone's already asked me, arsehole."
"What, who?" Potter asked quickly.
"Never you mind," Evans snarled "I'm going to Herbology."
She practically stormed out of the common room, leaving all of us gaping at her back. Marlene quickly gathered her things before running out after her while Dorcas moaned from her seat that she didn't want to be half an hour early to Herbology of all classes, but eventually followed with a pained look on her face.
"That was dramatic," Lacey commented as silence fell.
"They never let you get a word in, do they?" Black said.
"You seemed pretty talkative to me," I said.
"And I could probably use a good night's sleep after the effort that took," Black chuckled.
He adjusted himself on the floor and crossed his legs, leaning against Pettigrew's knee who immediately tried to shake him off. Potter looked up at me, a curious look on his face.
"So any plans for the holidays, Dyer?" Potter asked. "I mean besides the mingling with the French side."
"I'm afraid that's about it," I said with a tight smile. "Managed to summarize it quite well yourself."
"So you are French then?" Lupin suddenly spoke for the first time, looking up momentarily from his book while next to him Pettigrew peeked at the pages.
"I wish I could say no," I quickly replied.
"What about you, Lacey?" Lupin asked politely, subtly including her in the conversation.
"Oh, we just stay home in London usually, boring stuff," Lacey said. "Sometimes Monica visits or we meet up in Diagon Alley to buy school things before the break ends. Though not sure how it'll go this year…" She trailed off, giving me a knowing look.
Even I didn't know how my holidays were going to go and what kind of mad plan my mother had to force me to bond. I hoped I'd be able to slip out somehow to visit Lacey as usual, but I didn't know how difficult that would be given Clara (whom I still couldn't remember) would be with us too. Knowing my mother, she'd go way out of her way to have a girls bonding session. Basically that just meant more of her trying to mold me into one of her prissy pureblood nieces.
A couple of girls excused themselves as Lacey and I still blocked the staircase, resulting in us moving towards the fireplace closer to where the Marauders sat. As typical as Lacey could be, she took this as an opportunity to sit in the chair Dorcas left empty and I awkwardly stood next to her.
Like a true gentleman, Lupin stood to give me his seat but I waved him away, feeling much more comfortable where I stood than sitting next to Potter who was busy flicking Pettigrew's ear.
"So what's the deal with this French side anyway?" Black asked, still seated comfortably on the floor.
I kept myself from telling him it was none of his business and decided a decent conversation with these blokes probably wouldn't hurt.
"They're just… pushy," I said, trying to think of the best word to describe them that didn't make me sound like a total bitch.
"But this French side," Black began, "they're magical folk?"
I nodded stiffly. "Yeah, as magical as they could get. Pureblood family from Marseille."
Black wrinkled his nose. "Are they… you know…"
I raised my eyebrows, almost laughing at his attempt to ask with tact. Strangely I didn't find it offensive at all, probably because my emotional connection with my mother's side was as lacking as You-Know-Who's sense of morality.
"I don't know them well enough to know where they stand in the war," I said slowly. "But it's not really their country, eh? Not sure how exposed they are to the happenings here."
Lacey snorted. "Can't believe the magical world's that big. Wouldn't be surprised if You-Know-Who's recruiting from all the way there. Grindelwald tried taking over the whole of Europe, didn't he?"
A tense silence fell over the group. I never really thought about how my mother's side regarded the war in Great Britain. Lacey did have a point and I highly doubted distance kept You-Know-Who from recruiting more purebloods on his side. I felt uncomfortable thinking I could have been affiliated with his supporters by blood. That was probably why I tried to keep it away from my thoughts for as long as possible.
"Well, say they were on his side," Black said, "think I'd know exactly how you're feeling right now, Dyer."
Oddly, his words comforted me. Perhaps the luckiest thing about me was being raised by my father, so in terms of exposure, I practically had none to a terrible family life of prejudiced beliefs. It was no secret that Sirius Black rebelled against his family. Even I couldn't escape the rumors about his current status in the noble House of Black. The clear tension between him and Regulus didn't help in making the rumors disappear.
Word was he was disowned and kicked out of his house, but I couldn't imagine how true that was. He couldn't possibly be living alone as a student and I couldn't imagine him having to go through all the horrors of the war by himself.
"No matter, Padfoot," Potter said, clapping his best friend on the back. "As soon as we get out of this place, we're gonna fight, eh?"
"What d'you mean fight?" Lacey asked in surprise.
"We'll be at the frontlines," Potter said proudly. "Join the Order with Dumbledore."
When me and Lacey shared a confused look, Lupin smacked Potter's head with his book while muttering, "Loud git." Black chuckled, shaking his head at Potter.
"What's the Order?" I asked quickly, curiosity getting the best of me.
Potter blinked at Lupin then looked back to me and Lacey with a wary look on his face.
"Right, wasn't supposed to say that, was I?" Potter said softly.
"No, Prongs," Black said, laughing.
"It's nothing," Lupin said to me. "He's just being stupid."
"No, it's not stupid," I said, eyes wide. "You mentioned Dumbledore, is it some sort of group?"
The Marauders exchanged wary glances and next to me, Lacey sat on the edge of her seat looking equally as curious as me.
"Nope, it's nothing!" Potter yelped, shooting up from his seat. "Let's go to Herbology boys, shall we?"
Black barked out a laugh and slowly got up on his feet. "Alright, mate."
"Wait, you seriously won't tell us?" I said desperately as I watched the four of them quickly gather their things.
"Tell you what?" Potter said, voice unusually high. "Nothing to tell, Dyer. Now we've really got to get to class, Leaping Toadstools won't harvest themselves, eh?"
"Maybe we can find out who asked Evans to Slughorn's party then you can turn him into one," Black suggested.
"Excellent idea, mate," Potter said hurriedly, storming out of the common room with determination and the three other Marauders following swiftly after him.
Lacey and I were left hanging by the fireplace place, mouths agape. Bothered that they didn't stay to satisfy our curiosity, Lacey and I exchanged uneasy looks. Suddenly I felt the heaviness of the conversation we had with the Marauders on my shoulders, and the situation outside the safety of Hogwarts' walls sunk in. When I looked at Lacey, I knew we were haunted by the same thought: life after Hogwarts wasn't going to be a series of job hunting and finding our place as adults. The Marauders definitely had seen through that already, and it surprisingly wasn't difficult to admit that they were more mature than I led on.
"It's definitely an anti-You-Know-Who group," Lacey said, probably for the hundredth time since yesterday.
She sat across from me in our private compartment in the Hogwarts Express which was heading back to London to take students for the holidays. Her large eyes were fixed at me, waiting for my response, but I merely sighed, eyes glued to the Daily Prophet on my lap and refusing to encourage her.
"Hello? Earth to Monnie?" she said irritatingly. "You can't possibly have no thoughts on this."
"I've told you what I think, Lace," I said, face hard as I tried to focus on the article about the Harpies getting smashed by Puddlemere on their last match before the holiday season.
"You just told me to stay out of it!" Lacey pouted.
I finally looked up at her. "That's because we should! Clearly it's another one of their top secrets. I don't know about you but that's really not something I'd rather get into again."
"But if I'm right," Lacey continued, "then it's amazing, innit? How d'you reckon they know? Think Dumbledore would've told them himself?"
I sighed again and put aside the newspaper, realizing it was no use ignoring Lacey given how desperate she was to satisfy her curiosity. She'd probably talk my ear out about this the entire ride home.
"That's possible," I said, tilting my head to watch the bare trees passing by the window. "It is quite amazing, isn't it? I never even thought about that. Fighting the war after Hogwarts, I mean."
"Me either," Lacey breathed. "My brother yaps on about it all the time but my mum would never let him. I mean, it's mad! You could die."
"Must be nice to have a purpose though," I admitted.
I hadn't voiced it out to Lacey but ever since that talk with the Marauders, it put things into perspective somehow. The loneliness I felt in Hogwarts, the hatred I had for my mother's family, and my conversation with Regulus in the library didn't seem to bother me all that much anymore.
Even before the conversation by the fireplace, I realized the Marauders had impacted my life more than I expected. I thought about the boys when they endlessly defended Lupin to Lacey and I, especially after that embarrassing moment in the Quidditch pitch. The way they stood by their friend in an amazing demonstration of loyalty was etched in my memories. I thought about my reaction to Black calling me a shrew, how offended I was that he would call me such a thing after having met me for a few weeks. Then he apologized and since then they've been undeniably polite to Lacey and I, almost as if considering us as friends.
And now the glaring fact of their plans after Hovwarts, fighting for the good of the Wizarding World against the most notorious Dark Wizard of all time, just added to their complex character. I agreed that it was amazing and the clear purpose of their drive was inspiring.
Suddenly the roller coaster my sixth year had been didn't seem as bothersome anymore.
A peaceful silence fell over Lacey and I. She seemed to be doing some reflection of her own, staring blankly at the compartment doors. Our brief discussion about life after Hogwarts must have made her think too.
Just as I was about to resume reading the Harpies article, Lacey suddenly squeaked, eyes wide at the glass door.
I immediately turned to look just as the door slid open with a loud bang. In full Muggle clothes, Becca and Polly stood with haughty looks on their faces.
"Have you got the wrong room?" I asked, thoroughly not in the mood.
"No," Becca said with a smirk on her face. "Just wanted to ask when you got dumped by Carter Robins?"
"What?" I said, utterly confused.
"He went to the party with some fifth year instead," she said, looking too pleased with herself.
"How do you know when you didn't even get an invite?" Lacey said.
"I have my ways!" Becca spat. "Anyway I'm happy to know he's got his head straight. Thought you somehow slipped the love potion you made in class into his and Sirius Black's drinks."
"You're crazy," I said. "Go find someone else to bother, yeah? Tired of listening to your rubbish."
"Just admit it, Dyer," Polly said, arms crossed next to Becca. "What'd you do to the Marauders to make them talk to you? I saw you two with them by the fireplace yesterday."
"We're friends," I said, surprised at how easy it was to say it but given the circumstances I could've said anything to see Becca and Polly's faces grow red. I stood and reached for the door handle.
"Now get out of here before I decide to slip a love potion in either of your drinks, yeah?"
I slid the door closed and pulled the blinds down, effectively blocking them from my sight. I sat back down with a huff as Lacey laughed merrily from across me.
"Can you believe her?" Lacey snorted. "What makes her think we'd believe Carter would do that?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "I don't really care, to be honest. I mean if he went with someone else, it's not my place to judge."
"Wait, you believe her?" Lacey said incredulously. "Mon, she's lying. She's just trying to make you feel bad 'cause no one asked her."
I shrugged. "You know how gossip goes in here. Maybe she heard it from someone, I dunno."
Clearly sensing I wasn't in the mood to talk about it anymore, quite uncharacteristically of her, Lacey dropped the subject. We were unbothered for the rest of the ride, Lacey dozing off about an hour later.
Left with my thoughts, Becca's words echoed in my head. Carter assured me he said he'd bring me to the party to save me from giving Black an answer, then he'll make up some excuse for me not showing up.
Him showing up with another girl made me wonder what kind of excuse he cooked up for my absence. Did he say he dumped me like Becca said? But that seemed out of character, given how nice he usually was. And Lacey was right. Becca wasn't exactly the most reliable source so I wondered if what she said was even true.
I couldn't really understand how it made me feel. Trying to deny he'd ever do something like that was something I would have usually done, but just like when Lupin assessed Carter's mentality against Regulus during Slytherin matches, I wondered if he was actually capable of doing something like that.
I shook my head, trying to rid it of any Marauder. They managed to weed themselves into my thoughts more often than I wanted and while it wasn't unpleasant, it was weird having other people around to influence my thinking. It had always been just Lacey and there wasn't anyone else in Hogwarts I gave the time of day.
By the time we arrived in London, I was almost excited to go home knowing I wouldn't have to deal with any of this until after the New Year. Lacey stirred out of her sleep when the train slowed to a stop, groggily reaching for her trunk. I followed her actions and readied my things, mentally readying myself for the disastrous holiday that awaited me.
"You'll meet Martin outside as usual then?" Lacey said as we lugged our trunks out of the train and into Platform 9 ¾.
I grimaced at her use of his first name, wondering what on earth had gone through my dad's head when he told her to call him that. 'It makes me feel young!' he probably would have said.
"Yeah," I replied. "He's too scared to go in here. Thinks he'll bang his head on the wall instead of slipping through."
It was a relief anyway. My dad also had the habit of greeting me with my name scribbled on a bond paper in giant letters. It was way too embarrassing to imagine him doing it in Platform 9 ¾.
"Can't blame him. I remember my first time…" Lacey trailed off, something catching her eye.
Following her gaze, I realized I spoke too soon. It was impossible to miss him. He was jumping up and down with the name sign over his head written on a larger banner, waving me over as if I didn't already see him.
"I'm gonna kill him," I said to Lacey, but despite my words I could feel a smile on my face at the sight of him.
But it dropped a moment after when I noticed the woman next to him, long silky black hair tied back and hand waving me over enthusiastically. They must have been an odd pair to a stranger's eye, a plain Muggle in jeans and a sweatshirt and an aristocratic witch in velvet robes calling over their daughter in equal excitement.
I hadn't even known my mother arrived in London. It was also difficult to miss the tall brunette standing next to her wrapped in a midnight black trench coat and a winter beret over her curls. That must have been Clara but I still couldn't recognize her at all.
"That's your cousin?" Lacey said, wide-eyed. "She's beautiful."
I let out a deep sigh. "Wish me luck."
"Oh, there's my family," Lacey said, squinting at the other end of the platform. "Sorry, Mon, I'd love to stay and have a quick chat but—"
"Go ahead, Lace," I said with a smile, squeezing her arm. "I can handle them."
Lacey smiled back. "Don't forget to write, yeah? And try to visit if you can."
"No promises," I chuckled. "About the visiting part."
Lacey gave one last encouraging look before dashing off to meet her family. I took a deep breath and pushed my trolley towards mine. My dad excitedly watched me approach, being the first to squeeze me in a hug as soon as I got close.
I hugged him back tightly, only really realizing then how much I actually missed him. When he finally let go, he ran his tearful eyes over me as if I were to disappear again that second.
"My girl," he said affectionately. "You've grown, haven't you? But you're still much too skinny. They feed you well in that school, do they?"
"The amount of food the house elves make for one meal is enough to feed the whole of Great Britain, Dad," I said, amused.
"House elves," he repeated in awe to himself. "Still can't get used to it."
I laughed and allowed him to take control of my trolley. As soon as my hands were free, my mother didn't hesitate in swooping in for a hug. I awkwardly returned the hug, relieved she released me after a few seconds.
"Monica," she said with a grin. "I am relieved to see you. You have grown so much since the last!"
Her thick French accent slipped through her tongue naturally but her English was well and good that I never found her difficult to understand. She was as tall as my dad and a few wrinkles decorated her face, but she looked more beautiful than the last I saw her.
Yet, the more I took in the happiness she showed with her face, the more irritated I became. I tried not to show it, returning her greeting with a tight smile and crossing my arms to hide my tense fists.
Next to her, Clara watched me politely. She was at least three inches taller than me but granted she was wearing heels. Her brown hair fell perfectly over her shoulders in big curls. Her piercing gray eyes studied me in interest. I definitely didn't expect any less after hearing she was coming to visit, but the untrusting part of me already judged her the same as the rest of the brats I'd encountered in my mother's family
My mother noticed our exchange of stares and jumped in with introductions.
"Monica, this is Clara," she said pressing her palm on the brunette's shoulder. "I'm not so sure if you have met before because she travels so often. You may not have crossed paths during your visits to France."
"Nice to meet you, Clara," I said with an awkward wave. "No wonder I don't recognize you at all."
"Yes, but I talked about her often," my mother said proudly. "She's very bright."
"I'll take your word for it," I said, unable to stop myself.
Clara blinked, still smiling. Strangely enough it didn't seem fake at all.
"I've heard a lot about you too," she said, voice light and airy.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She even sounded like an angel. I wondered if this woman had any fault at all, at least superficially. Her French accent was much less noticeable than my mother's, sensing a little bit of English even. Must have been a result of all the traveling.
"Yes, I think you will get along," my mother said, smiling wide.
"Alright," my dad said, clapping his hands together happily. "Now that we've got the introductions sorted, shall we head to the car?"
"Please," I practically begged.
"I think it would be quicker to apparate," my mother said, pulling out her wand. "I can take Martin as my side along. Clara, would you mind taking Monica?"
"Oh," my dad said in innocent surprise. "Right, that's the teleporting thing, eh? Well I suppose I can pick up the car tomorrow. Anything to keep my Monica comfortable!"
"No, I think I'd much rather take the car," I said quickly, taking my dad's arm. "We can just meet you at home."
My mother blinked, speechless for a few seconds as my dad warily watched our exchange. To my surprise, she pocketed her wand and gestured to the path.
"Lead the way," she said kindly.
For a few moments I didn't move, but my dad reached for my hand and the other ready to push the trolley.
"Alright, to the car then," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
I could tell he felt the tension resonating from me, and my mother was far from stupid by any means. She seemed determined to please me which wasn't exactly a first but I was much more used to her putting her own interests over mine when the situation allowed it.
Clara didn't look bothered by taking a car either, following closely behind my dad when he and I started to walk to the exit. Her facial expressions didn't reveal much but I was surprised by the lack of animosity it had towards me, already a glaring difference between her and the rest of the cousins from France that I had met.
"You're in a lot of trouble, you know that?" I whispered irately to my dad as we walked side by side.
"I didn't know she was coming today, Monnie," he whispered quickly back. "They just appeared on my doorstep this morning before I left to pick you up. Didn't have time to give you a warning."
I sighed and continued to walk, well aware that they were observing me from behind. It had been more than five minutes since my mother saw me and I hadn't received a single piece of criticism yet. Something was fishy.
As we rushed to the exit, we nearly collided with another group who was coming from the other side of the platform. My dad stopped in time and gestured to let the older couple pass first. The pair bowed their heads politely and slipped through the wall.
As my life had been a series of unfortunate events already, of course it didn't mind throwing another one at me when the two students who followed after the couple were none other than James Potter and Sirius Black.
"Wotcher, Dyer," Black said cheerfully, him and Potter stopping their exit when they noticed me.
"Hi," I said, voice small.
"Evening, Dyer," Potter said. "Have a good holiday."
"Thanks."
"Oh, sweetheart, these are your friends?" my dad said in excitement, as if he hardly ever met any of my friends before (which actually wasn't inaccurate).
"Sirius Black, sir," Black introduced himself smoothly, holding a hand out to shake my dad's.
"James Potter. Pleasure to meet you." The other followed suit.
My dad enthusiastically shook both their hands, nearly making me step on his foot to get himself together.
"I never get the opportunity to meet your friends at school, Monnie," he said fondly. "You guys look great."
Wondering what on earth he meant by that, I was about to stop him before he could continue. Unfortunately the rambling went on in a drastic turn.
"This is Monica's mother, Luella," he said, gesturing to her behind him, who shook their hands as well. "And this is her cousin, Clara. They're both from France. Magical folk like you lot. I'm Martin, by the way. I'm just normal. I mean, not to say you're abnormal but—"
I tuned out my dad's rambling when a look of realization crossed both Potter and Black's faces when he introduced my French family members. Before things could get any worse and I transformed myself into a puddle of embarrassment, I hurriedly spoke up.
"Right, we should get going. Er, have a good holiday, I suppose."
"Sure, yeah," Black said, still side-eyeing my mother with a curious expression.
"Nice to meet you all," Potter said politely before dragging Black through the wall with a small mutter of, "Come on, Padfoot."
I sighed in relief as my dad still bounced on his feet with a grin on his face. I could have slapped it off given the amount of discomfort I was in.
Should've just apparated.
"They're quite nice, aren't they?" My dad rambled from the driver's seat, occasionally glancing at me from the rearview mirror. "I mean it wasn't a particularly long conversation but they're polite boys. I suppose I was getting a bit worried, Monica, because you only ever let me meet one friend, I think her name was Lucy?"
"Lacey, Dad, and you've met her a bunch of times," I said, forehead stuck on the window as I watched the buildings pass in agony.
"Right, well, you know I'm terrible with names, sweetheart," he said with a wave of his hand.
"You made her call you Martin so I'd expect you to remember," I muttered, but he carried on as if he hadn't heard me.
"Anyway you've never mentioned those boys at all, have you? New friends of yours?"
"Mhm," I mumbled incoherently, but he understood it as a yes.
"That's right, isn't it? They're in your year too? Same house, is it? It's called a house right?"
I closed my eyes and breathed in, keeping my patience together at least until I could shut myself in my room and lock myself in until Christmas Eve probably.
"I think she's a bit tired, Martin," I heard my mother say calmly from the front seat.
"Oh, sorry, sweetheart. You can tell me all about it over dinner. You should take a nap when you get home. I'm not sure how comfortable those trains are for naps."
Eventually he managed to steer away from his one-sided conversation with me and rambled on about his work as an accountant with my mother. I peeked a few times to observe her patiently listening, adding some remarks here and there but she never looked annoyed. Her lack of irritation seemed to add to my own and it baffled me altogether why she was here in the first place.
It didn't help when we finally arrived home and my dad announced my mother was to take the guest room and Clara would have to share a room with me because I had a queen size bed. Upon the announcement I rushed up to my room without showing her where it was and threw my trunk to the corner, unbothered to unpack.
Absolutely exhausted, I fell face first in my bed and screamed into my pillow, not particularly enjoying how the holidays began. If life were good to me, I would have been able to doze off and sleep through dinner but my mind couldn't bother to let me pass out despite the exhaustion felt by my body. Minutes later, I heard the creak of my door opening and my dad whispering to Clara that she would be staying here in an effort not to wake me.
Tempted as I was to scream that I was bloody wide awake, I somehow managed to stay still face first in my pillow as Clara made her way in my room and sat at the edge of my bed.
"Who is that?" she said softly herself and I curiously peeked to check what she was looking at.
She was observing the variety of posters on my wall which were all football players of sort, mostly from Arsenal which was the team my dad and I grew up supporting.
"That's Charlie George," I said before I could stop myself.
Clara gasped in surprise and nearly slipped out of the bed at my sudden reply.
"I thought you were sleeping," she said breathlessly.
"I wasn't," I said, sitting up and leaning against my headboard.
"So who's Charlie George?" she asked, glancing at the posters. "You've quite a lot of his face on there."
"He's pretty much my childhood hero," I said. "Watched him growing up. He used to play for the football team Dad and I support."
"Football…" she repeated, a bit of confusion on her face.
"It's a Muggle sport," I continued to explain. "Don't think you'd know about it."
"Yeah," she said. "I guess it's big in the Muggle world like Quidditch?"
I tilted my head in thought. While I loved Quidditch with all my heart, nothing could compare to how much football meant to the Muggle world, at least where I was from.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." I shrugged.
She stayed silent for a few moments, eyes still scanning the posters on my wall but somehow I knew she was thinking about something else. Finally she turned to look at me and spoke.
"You don't like me very much, do you?" she asked, rather innocently and almost a bit bash.
Taken aback, it took a few seconds to find the right words to respond.
"People in general make me uneasy," I said vaguely.
She laughed lightly. "I think you don't like me specifically."
I wrinkled my nose, unsure if she was being condescending or just honest. Maybe both. Either way she wasn't really in the right direction if she was trying to get me to like her.
"I don't really click with my mum's side," I said, face hard.
"I suppose we have one thing in common then," she said airily, losing eye contact and looking up at my posters again.
"What d'you mean?" I asked doubtfully.
She had a moment of thought before continuing.
"I guess you could say they've never really been supportive," she said vaguely then shook her head and a small smile appeared to replace the thoughtful look on her face. "But enough of that. Talking about it just depresses me. So what's fun to do in London? I haven't been here in ages."
I paused at the question, wondering if she expected me to be her personal chauffeur and take her to the Big Ben for a tour.
"And I'm not talking about that tourist sightseeing rubbish," she said, answering the question in my head. "What do you do for fun? They say the best people to show you around a new place are the locals themselves."
I observed her, trying to find any inkling of bad intentions in her question. It almost frustrated me that it seemed she genuinely wanted to experience London my way. Didn't my mother mention she was a traveller?
"Er, I don't know," I said with hesitation. "I guess during the summer my dad and I like to watch a football match? He has season tickets. But during the winter we much prefer watching reruns in a pub, but I don't think that's really up to you style—"
"Perfect!" she said happily before I could finish.
"Wh-what?"
"A pub sounds great," she said, looking excited. "Wait, but you can't drink, can you?"
"No, but my dad knows the owner at the place we usually go to," I said. "He lets me in as long as I just watch the match and he won't serve me drinks. How old are you"
"Just turned twenty," she said. "So I guess I can drink in Muggle pubs now."
"Wait, you seriously want to go?" I asked, still a bit shocked by her reaction.
"Yeah, I do," she nodded swiftly.
"Why?"
She laughed again. "Because it sounds fun. Now when's the next match?"
The last Arsenal match of the year was airing that night, and while live matches on television were hard to come by, this would just be a replay of the match that happened two days ago. I already knew the result: 2-1 with Arsenal winning against Liverpool with a last minute smasher.
But the culture of football in England went beyond catching live matches. It was a Sunday evening and the pub was no doubt going to be filled with Englishmen who wanted to catch a viewing of the match, albeit late. On a normal day, my dad and I would have gone to the pub an hour early to have dinner and have a chat with fellow regulars.
It would have been the first thing I wanted to do as soon as I arrived home, but I knew my mother and Clara's presence would constitute other plans. But watching Clara unpack with a skip on her step as she decided on what she wore, I had a chance to do what I wanted after all.
Deciding it would be difficult to change her mind (and a part of me didn't want her to either), I checked the clock and it was half past six in the evening. The match would be airing at eight so I sprinted out of the room and met my dad in the kitchen. He was setting the table for four and his eyes lit up when he saw me.
"Sweetheart! Up already?"
"Dad, Clara and I are going to Lion's Head tonight," I said breathlessly. "Just set the table for two, yeah?"
"Oh," he said, looking uncertain. "Monnie, I think it's best if you just—"
"She was the one who said she wanted to go," I said quickly. "I told her about it and can't seem to change her mind."
My dad pursed his lips. "Do you think it's safe?"
I rolled my eyes. "I promise we won't wave our wands in a pub full of Muggles, Dad."
He furrowed his eyebrows, an unrecognizable emotion crossing his face.
"Maybe it's better if your mum and I come with?" he said slowly, ruffling his graying hair. "I mean it's a pub full of men and you and Clara—"
"Clara's off age, Dad," I said with a comforting smile. "Both in the Wizarding and Muggle world. And Gasser never gives me drinks. We can take care of ourselves. I swear we won't do anything to cause trouble. Anyway Clara said she wants me to show her around. Said something like locals being the best tour guides or whatever."
He sighed with a look of resignation and I think I caught a pout somewhere there.
"Maybe I should come to help explain what's going on with the match," he said, fiddling with the placemat. "Think she'll need help to understand the game, you know?"
My smile dropped and I crossed my arms. "You just don't want to miss the airing, do you?"
A goofy smile lit up on his face and he clapped his hands together. "I'll buy the food?"
I stared back, unamused. "Stay home with Mum, Dad."
With that, I ran back upstairs as I listened to him whine my name from the kitchen. When I got back to my room, Clara was already fully dressed in a simple scarlet turtleneck and jeans. Her black trench coat was on my bed, ready to go. While her clothes were ready to blend in with the Muggles, I could still get a sense of something out of the ordinary. Definitely she would be an eye catcher wherever we went, but at least I knew my way around the Lion's Head so I could keep an eye on her.
I quickly dressed myself in winter clothes and pulled out my favorite gray coat from the dusty dresser, untouched since I left last September. Clara and I descended to the living room together where my mother sat by the fireplace with a book. She looked up from the pages before we could head out.
"You girls going out?" she asked.
"Monica's going to show me around," Clara said politely. "We won't get home too late."
"Great to see you bonding," my mother said with a genuine smile. "Wrap yourselves up."
I returned with a tight smile and buttoned up my coat. Clara and I left soon after and I led the way to the pub, burying my hands in my pockets as we braved the cold.
The pub wasn't too far from our street, just about a ten minute walk, but during the winter we could get there in eight. The trees were completely bare but it wasn't snowing yet, the wind biting at our exposed skin as we briskly walked. The weather didn't permit any small talk so Clara and I made our way in comfortable silence.
I could hear the pub before I made the final turn. The echoing sounds of laughing men and women made me feel warm and a grin formed on my face as we faced the front doors of the Lion's Head. It was simple and reminded me of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. The thick wooden walls were varnished well but over time cracks have shown but only added to its appeal. From the small glass window I could already see the crowd huddled together in groups, drinking beers and enjoying their supper.
I shared a knowing look with Clara before stepping in and surprisingly she grinned at me, looking more than ready to experience what I liked to do for fun. Mimicking her excitement, I stepped in with no hesitation.
"Monica Dyer?" a voice immediately boomed over the twinkling sound of the chimes above the door. "Do my eyes deceive me?"
As Clara and I stepped in, a few heads turned but my attention was locked on the scruffy bartender and pub owner behind the bar. I grinned from ear to ear, watching Gasser serve a pair of beers to a couple before removing his apron and rushing over to me for a quick hug.
"Long time, long time!" he said happily as he squeezed me, releasing after a few seconds to show a heartwarming grin.
Gasser had been a close friend of my dad's for as long as I could remember. They grew up in the same neighborhood in Islington and never lost touch, even when my dad chased his dreams to go to university and he stayed to open up his own pub. He had no family of his own, but his pub regulars had filled that place in his heart.
"Martin hasn't even told me you'd arrived," he said breathlessly. "How's boarding school been, eh? Just as shitty as I told you it would be?"
"It's not so bad." I laughed and stepped aside to put Clara in view. "This is Clara, my cousin from France. She's visiting over the holidays."
"Blimey," he said, grinning at Clara and ruffling his dark hair. "Never met any of your French folk. Good to see ya, Clara. You came at a fantastic time. Game's on tonight."
"I heard," Clara said, smiling back. "Monica's been kind enough to show me around. I don't come to London often."
"Ah, well, good choice of destination for a tour then, eh?" Gasser winked at me. "Your booth's free so you can knock yourselves out. Figured you and Martin would be coming to watch the match."
Gasser led the way, freeing the path to our table. Clara and I sat comfortably across each other, untying our scarves and removing our coats. Gasser was quick to set the table and handed us menus. Before I could even skim through the pages, he already returned with my favorite fruit shake and a beer. His eyes shot to Clara and must have just realized his mistake.
"Oh, sorry!" he said quickly, taking back the beer. "Force of habit. Martin usually gets a beer."
"Actually I think I'll take it," Clara said kindly, reaching for the beer, but Gasser was quicker to move it out of her reach.
"Oho, young lady," he said with a grin. "I don't serve minors. Little Monnie can tell ya."
"She's off age, Gasser," I said.
"Oh, is she?" he said, looking surprised. "Well, it's protocol that I should see an ID—"
"No!" I interrupted in panic before laughing airily to cover it up. "She left it at home, Gasser. Surely you can give it a pass this time?"
After a few moments of him looking uncomfortable as I smiled widely with my hands clasped together, he finally gave in and returned the beer on the table.
"Only this time, Mon," he said with a chuckle. "But next time, don't forget the ID, yeah?"
"You're a saint, Gasser!" I called after him as he walked back to the bar and waved me off.
I turned my attention back to Clara who was taking her first sip of the beer. Eyebrows raised, I gauged her reaction, but surprisingly after the first sip, she chugged a few more.
"Steady there," I laughed. "First time to try?"
Clara chuckled and nodded, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
"It's bitter," she said, "but I quite like it."
"Gasser will be back with bangers and mash," I said, setting aside the menu. "He's used to preparing my dad and I's orders. If there's anything else you'd like, you can let him know."
"I'm good with that," Clara said, pushing her own menu away. "You two come here that often then?"
"I only started coming with my dad when I turned fourteen," I said. "Even then Gasser never served me anything other than fruit shakes and food."
Clara nodded and took another sip of her beer. "He seems nice. Very excited."
Gasser returned with the food and I eagerly started with my potatoes.
"Thank you," Clara said politely as Gasser laid down her plate.
"My pleasure," he said happily. "So your dad's not coming then, Mon?"
"My mum's in town too," I replied as I cut my sausage. "He stayed home to keep her company."
Surprise replaced the usual grin on his face.
"Bloody hell," he said. "She's staying with you too?"
"Yup," I said, hoping I didn't sound too disappointed in front of Clara.
"Martin must be having the time of his life then, eh?" Gasser's joking tone had returned. "Reckon he hasn't seen another bird since she left."
"Gross, Gasser." I frowned.
"Ah, I'm just kidding ya, Mon," he laughed. "Enjoy your food and the match, yeah?"
Then he left again, quickly attending to other customers. Clara and I began to eat, subtly watching her to check if she had any complaints. Surprisingly she ate almost as fast as I did, clearly enjoying the food. I smiled softly to myself, happy she was satisfied. It would have been a pain to bring her somewhere else, mostly because I was rubbish at suggesting places to eat other than the Lion's Head.
"You know, Aunt Ella," she suddenly spoke as she cut her last sausage. "She talks about you a lot."
"Probably ruined my image to you already, has she?" I said before I could stop myself.
To my surprise, Clara laughed. I raised my eyebrows at the reaction.
"It's all good things, believe it or not," Clara continued, eyes bright.
"I find that very hard to believe actually." I chuckled softly.
"But you've visited her before, haven't you? In France?" she asked.
"A couple of times," I admitted. "But I hated it. She was never particularly nasty to me but she always had this tendency to raise me differently. Like she wanted me to be more like…"
"Her," Clara finished, looking empathetic. "I don't think you'd believe this either but I think I know a little bit about how you feel."
I thought about our conversation in my room where she mentioned she didn't really click with my mother's family either. She managed to steer away from the topic but now that she brought it up again, I was more curious of why she felt that way, given her blood was pure and she looked just like the cousins I'd met before. Admittedly, her actions since meeting me showed she was much more different than I thought.
Clara hesitated before continuing but the expecting look on my face must have pushed her to go on.
"Aunt Ella mentioned that I travel. The reason why is because I refused to get married as soon as I finished school."
My mouth formed an O and I couldn't find the words to interrupt. So she went on.
"It was an arranged marriage. The boy came from another pureblood family in France. I think they settled the terms since I started school in Beauxbatons when I was ten. So after I graduated, I was supposed to get married the month after. But I left."
"You left him at the altar?" I asked softly, eyes wide.
"Well, I wish it were that dramatic," she chuckled. "I left right after I graduated. Packed my bags and went to Spain for two months. No one knew where I went but Aunt Ella. She wrote to me and told me she knew exactly how I felt and she would help me no matter what."
For a dumb moment, I briefly wondered how my mother of all people would know how she felt. Then I thought of my dad. After I got my Hogwarts letter and I met my mother for the first time, he finally told me the truth of their relationship's fate: two years of the time of their lives before she got pregnant and left him with the baby when her family found out. It didn't take a detective to deduce within those two years, my mother must have ran away from home as well.
"Has she helped you then?" I asked. "Mum, I mean?"
Clara nodded solemnly. "More than I could ever pay back. She sends me money to continue traveling and updates me about my family. She never asks for anything in return and tells me to take my time. Figure out what I want."
"But what do you want?"
Clara paused, fingers fiddling with the handle of her mug.
"I think family's everything," she said slowly. "But I don't want to lose myself. I think this is my last trip. I plan to return and tell my parents I don't want to get married yet. I want to get a job, fall in love, and start a family of my own."
"That's fair," I said.
"But I don't think they will be," Clara said darkly. "But at least I would have tried."
"Wouldn't you be happier if you just left for good?" I thought about my mother who left me after I was born, still confused why she never just cut ties with them and stayed with us if she was so in love.
"I don't think I would be," Clara admitted. "I don't think I can live happily knowing I left them. The least I can do is attempt at a compromise. Just like Aunt Ella."
I stared at her, quite speechless and pondering at her words. Was being able to see me, allowing me to visit, and attempting to mold me into a proper Bordeaux after I turned eleven all part of the compromise my mother could have asked for?
"Anyway, it's all very depressing," Clara said in a lighter tone. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I can understand how you feel in some way. It's hard being different and having my life planned out for me just isn't me. Aunt Ella always mentions you in her letters. She says you're as stubborn as a rock and you show them up, always so proud of where you come from. So I was excited to meet you. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two."
"Not sure how much you can learn from me," I said, shaking my head. "To them I'm just an accident my mum made when she was seventeen. They couldn't change me even if they decided to ship me off to France for good."
Clara chuckled and finished her beer. When she placed the empty mug back on the table, her eyes were wide and bright.
"So, that's my life," she chirped. "It's not really table conversation but you asked."
"I actually didn't ask, for the record," I said jokingly.
"But you were looking at me like you would've slapped me if I didn't continue," she joked back. "So what about you? I mean, I know about your family and all but what do you do in school?"
Eat delicious meals and wallow in self-pity. But of course I couldn't say that.
"Nothing much," I said with a shrug. "Eat, study, sleep, watch Quidditch. Quite dull really."
"You like Quidditch too then?" she said. "Do you play?"
"Merlin, no!" I laughed. "Think I'd rather be three feet down under than three feet above ground."
"Not fond of heights then?"
I shook my head quickly. "Not at all."
Clara tilted her head in thought. "Okay, then how about boyfriends? Anyone special?"
I probably would have spat my fruit shake on her face if I were drinking.
"Nope, no," I said, suddenly finding the placemat more interesting than this conversation.
"Not even crushes?" Clara asked incredulously.
"Er—That's—"
"So you do have a crush," she said excitedly, probably noticing the growing redness on my pale cheeks. "Who is it? One of the boys we met on the platform? They were quite handsome."
One of the— Hold on, she couldn't possibly be talking about Potter and Black.
"You know, the one with the glasses and the one with the nice hair," she rambled on. "I knew you weren't answering your dad's questions because it must have been weird, right?"
"No, no, no, I don't fancy either of them," I said quickly, belching out an uncomfortable laugh. "You've got it all wrong. They're just my… er…"
"Your…?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Friends, I guess?" I said, voice unusually high. "I mean it's complicated, we met in a really unfortunate situation a few months ago and I never really shook them off."
"Must have been a really unfortunate situation to make you flustered like that," she giggled.
"Oh, you have no bloody idea," I muttered to myself, Clara too busy laughing by herself to hear.
"Fine, if it's not them, then who is it?" she pressed. "There must be someone! Let me guess, he's a Quidditch player."
My eyes widened. Could this woman read minds or something? Maybe they taught Legilimency in Beauxbatons.
"Oh, I was right, wasn't I?" she said excitedly.
Body language could have been an elective there too.
"Okay, you don't have to tell me. I've just always been jealous of Hogwarts. Not to say I'm boy crazy or anything but it must be more interesting to have boys, isn't it? I didn't have a single crush during my school years and I only ever met other pureblood families who were probably related to me one way or another."
I laughed a bit, not ready to admit out loud but despite her obnoxious eagerness, she was actually quite enjoyable to talk to. She was refreshing and transparent, unafraid to open up and naturally kept the conversation going. Strangely, it was enough to trigger something in me to respond with something real.
"There's one guy," I began, watching her listen with big expectant eyes. "I suppose I've… fancied him for a few years now."
"What's he like?" she asked, head resting on her fist with an encouraging smile.
"We're in the same year and he's… just so nice, you know? He's helped me out a couple of times without me even asking and he plays Quidditch too so I guess he gets points for that."
Though he gets points deducted for potentially spreading fake rumors about me, but I couldn't mention it.
"Gentlemen are always so attractive, aren't they?" she sighed.
"Yeah, I suppose…"
"I wish I met someone like that while I was in school. All the boys I've met were spoiled and demanding," Clara snorted. "The boy I was supposed to marry had house elves for pretty much everything. He had no plans whatsoever because his family money could keep him comfortable for the rest of his life. It was suffocating!"
I laughed again, realizing I was liking her more and more. It felt strange talking about something personal with someone other than Lacey but I decided it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. I thought about Black who addressed me like an old friend despite our glaring differences and I almost felt it was similar to how increasingly comfortable I felt with Clara, who was also someone new in my life.
"What are you thinking about?" Clara asked.
Sirius Black, but that wasn't a conversation I was ready to have yet.
"Just how different everything's been," I said vaguely. "This school year in general's been an absolute frenzy. I also thought this was going to be the worst holiday I'd have yet, but it actually isn't turning out so bad."
Clara grinned and placed her hand over mine.
"Let's have some fun," she said before raising her hand at the bar. "Gasser, can I get another pint please?"
"Another pint coming up for Clara!" Gasser yelled back as he prepared her drink. "Match starts in ten minutes folks!"
The entire pub cheered and I watched Clara join in, random strangers high fiving her as they passed. I grinned from ear to ear as I watched her. Definitely underestimated how this year's holiday break would turn out.