Chapter Five
–
The Last Year
–
Forgive your enemies, but
never forget their names.
–
The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. I had taken May out of her carrier and let her scurry off down the corridor.
The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky you could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.
"I'm telling you, if we make it known that we are not liable for any side effects then we can pull it off," I said, speaking zealously about testing our newest products. "If you throw galleons at people, they'll do anything."
"Winnie, you know I am always in favor of potentially maiming or spontaneously combusting people in the name of a good laugh," said George, "as long as I am not the one getting the maiming or the combusting, of course."
"Of course," I smirked.
"We could post a flyer," said Fred. "We can spread the offer by word-of-mouth, but that'll only get us so far."
"Some sort of visible advertisement makes us seem more legitimate, too," said George. "I would imagine a number of our dear classmates may anticipate we have ill intentions."
"I cannot imagine why anyone would come to that conclusion," said Fred with a chuckle.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table. Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, Lee, and I sat next to them. I noticed several people appeared to be whispering about Harry. I could tell he was trying very hard to act as if he was unbothered, but I could see his jaw locked tight from across the table. I sent him a reassuring smile that he half returned.
"I wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is," said Lee, looking up at the long staff table.
Beside Dumbledore sat a woman who looked like somebody's spinster aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink headband that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. She looked like a toad.
"Well, that is certainly a bold fashion choice," said Lee slowly, raising a brow.
"I wonder what her favorite color might be," said Katie, looking rather disgusted.
I felt an odd sickness in my stomach, as if an ominous cloud had just crept into the room and hovered above the toad-woman. Before I could stop the words from escaping my mouth I breathed, "she's a villain."
"What?" said George, startled by the look on my face. "Did you have a vision?"
"No, it's a feeling," I said slowly. "She's dangerous and I can feel it."
"She also looks like she upholstered herself into Aunt Muriel's sofa," said Fred, his upper lip curled.
"Oh yeah," I agreed, nodding. "The lumpy one that Ron puked orange juice on when we were little. She bares a striking resemblance. Well spotted, Fred."
"Why would Dumbledore hire someone dangerous, especially now?" asked George.
"Maybe he didn't have a say in the matter," said Hermione, overhearing our conversation.
"Let's also not be so quick to forget that he did hire Professor Quirrel, Gilderoy Lockhart, Barty Crouch, Jr…" said George, "so his track record isn't exactly pristine in the Human Resources department if we're being honest."
"Why do you think he didn't have a choice, 'mione?" asked Fred.
"Harry saw her at his trial at the Ministry this summer," said Hermione. "She's a high ranking official."
"Why would someone high up in the Ministry be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Fred, looking at the toad-woman and back to Hermione.
"We know the Ministry doesn't want anything to do with Dumbledore since he's been so vocal about You-Know-Who's return," said Hermione, sorting it all out in her head as she continued. "I reckon they planted someone inside Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. That 'someone' just happens to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor — Delores Umbridge."
A long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.
The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.
The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Harry recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which House he belonged. The whole school waited with bated breath.
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more.
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"
He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise.
Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as I had ever seen it even thinner than when we accidentally set the Common Room on fire during our first year.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and again, the bad energy I felt from her grew more powerful. She gave another little throat— clearing cough ("Hem, hem") and continued: "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"
Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching . . ."
I lost all concentration and focused on the parchment in front of me, scribbling out an advertisement to hang in the Common Room. Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. I glanced over at Hermione who seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting
what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though I noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cozy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. May was perched up on a coffee table, looking for attention. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room. Fred scooped up May in his arms.
George wrapped his arms around my middle and leaned his chin into my neck to whisper, "want to cuddle?"
"You great big sap," I giggled, placing my hands over his and leading him towards our favorite oversized sofa in the furthest corner of the common room, "but yes, I do."
George pulled me onto his lap by my hips. I squirmed over so my back rested against the back of the sofa with my legs folded over George's. I propped my elbow up on the back of the couch and started playing with his hair. Ron walked by behind Harry and pretended to be so repulsed that he made a vomiting noise into his fist.
"I'm going to sleep," said Fred, walking by with May in his arms. He leaned in to whisper loudly into May's ear. "Mummy and George need alone time, so you can sleep with Uncle Fred tonight."
—
I handed Fred the flyer I drafted the previous evening to hang up on the notice board I couldn't come close to reaching. Hermione approached the board behind us with Ron beside her. She was staring at the notice board, at the large new sign Fred put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Winnie McKinnon and Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs (WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT'S OWN RISK)
"Absolutely not," said Hermione grimly, reaching you to take down the sign, which Fred had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. "This kind of behavior is strictly unacceptable."
Ron looked positively alarmed. I flicked my wand and the flyer snapped out of Hermione's hand and glued back to the wall again. Fred and George stepped in front of the notice board with smiles and their arms crossed.
"Hermione, you know as well as we do that there isn't a chance we will listen to rules, so let's just make this easier on everyone," I said. "You turn a blind eye to our hijinks and we'll… well, frankly that's about it."
"Ron and I are prefects this year!" said Hermione. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!" Ron said nothing.
"Hermione, we survived a year of Percy as Headboy," said George. "Do you honestly think we are intimidated by you and Ronnikins?"
"I am warning you three," she insisted. "You cannot advertise your Skiving Snackboxes in the Common Room."
"Listen, Hermione, you drive a hard bargain," I said, "but we'll cut you both a deal."
"You both stay out of our way," started George, "and you can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat on the cheap if you like."
"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.
"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said Fred, helping himself to a kipper.
"I want nothing to do with your joke products," said Hermione in a huff.
Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out schedules. Hermione glared at him. Fred, George, and I sniggered. I took my schedule from McGonagall's hand, the twins doing the same. I had double Care of Magical Creatures Monday, Transfiguration on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, Potions on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, double Charms on Wednesday afternoon, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday. The twins had the same except they had Herbology Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and didn't have Transfiguration or Care of Magical Creatures at all.
"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."
"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.
"Fifth year's O.W.L. year," said George.
"So?"
"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.
"Yeah… you got, what was it, four O.W.L.s each?" said Ron.
"Winnie, technically got six," said Fred, "so we consider it a concerted effort. But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."
I had received my O.W.L.s in Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Divination, and Charms even though I wasn't allowed to take Divination again even if I wanted to because I had to take Cassandra's "one-on-one tutoring." The twins passed the same minus Potions and Transfiguration. They also received an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. Arthur would have been devastated with any other outcome.
"I mean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat," said George.
"I must have missed that conversation," I said slowly, raising my eyebrows.
"We're going to use our last year here to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, and then produce the products to fit the demand," said Fred, snatching up some toast to go. "C'mon, Freddie, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before classes start."
Fred, George, and I started walking away, each of us carrying a stack of toast. I waited until we had stepped outside on our way to the grounds to speak up.
"What was all that about?" I inquired.
"What?" said George.
"Did you mean it?" I asked. "You considered— are considering — not finishing our last year?"
"George and I discussed it a bit, yes," said Fred, shrugging.
"And you didn't care to include me in that decision?" I snapped. "When would you have told me — as I walked through the platform without either of you?"
"We just knew you would be against it," said George. "Your dad was a Healer, Winnie. Dad has mentioned how important his education was to us several times over the years."
"So... because you didn't want to have a difficult talk with me — you just lied to me instead?"
"Not so much lying as not telling," said Fred. "We're here now, so it obviously doesn't matter now anyway."
"It certainly does matter, Fred," I spat, nearly jogging to keep up with their naturally long strides. "This is a partnership between the three of us, when it involves our shop then it's my business to know if you're planning to take off without me."
"We obviously wouldn't spring something like that on you," said George.
"Oh, you mean like casually over breakfast in front of Hermione, Ron, and Harry?"
George stuck his heel in the ground and spun around to face me, "Listen, Freddie, we only discussed it as a possibility if you ended up staying with Oliver."
"Excuse me?" I said, gritting my teeth.
"We figured that if you did end up working things out with Oliver, you would probably want out of the joke shop idea eventually," said Fred, shrugging.
I opened and closed my mouth several times, but I couldn't find the words. I was so shocked and so deeply hurt that it pained me to breathe. I finally decided to say nothing and brush by them. A hot stone rose into the back of my throat. I swung open the door to the large old barn we used for Care of Magical Creatures and took a seat beside Angelina without saying a word. She raised a curious brow at me, "you alright, Winnie?"
"Fine," I sighed, taking out my quill.
Fred and George sat behind us. I could hear them whispering amongst themselves. Lee and Adrian Pucey were sat at the table in front of us, "what's happened?"
"Nothing," I replied to Adrian.
Class with Professor Grubbly-Plank began the first lesson about the healing properties of Moondew which also apparently could be used to sweeten up a good butterbeer. Care of Magical Creatures had become one of my favorite classes by far, especially once I realized many of our inventions involved magical animals (like doxy venom). Professor Grubbly-Plank seemed lovely, though. She had a bubbly personality and obviously had a kind heart for animals. It was rather charming and impressive if I'm being honest.
We spent most of the lesson tediously scraping the internal stems of the Moondew plant until we extracted enough seeds to mush into a paste to heal a Porlock's hoof. My hands felt sore and stiff by the time class ended and I could head to double Transfiguration. I had nearly made my way to the closest entrance back into the castle before I heard George jog up from behind me.
"Please don't be mad at us, Freddie," said George, running his fingers through his hair. Fred hung back with Angelina, Lee, and Adrian.
"I'm not mad, George," I said, the hot stone biting my throat. "I am so incredibly hurt. Is that what you really think of me? That I'm not 'in' this as much as you two? I have news for you, George Weasley, if you think you two are going to ditch me then you can kiss the Winnie's Wonder Witch products goodbye. Those were my creations, and they stay with me."
George gently grabbed onto my arm and pulled me aside to look at him, something I was finding difficult to do at the moment. He took my face in his hands and looked me square in the eyes, "Freddie, we wouldn't be Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes without you."
"You were going to leave Hogwarts and run off to work on the shop without me," I said sadly. "You thought — what? That I would run off with Oliver to become a stay-at-home cat mom and never speak to either of you again?"
"No, but we were honestly worried if you stayed with him that he would force you to give it up eventually," he replied.
"You don't know me at all," I snapped. "I would never let anyone dictate what I want to do with my life."
"Which is why I am standing in front of you right now," said George. "We talked about the idea one day when you were speaking to Oliver through the fireplace. If we thought leaving Hogwarts would put our friendship and partnership in jeopardy then it was off the table. We knew it would, so killed the notion even though it was what we wanted to do. We had also just patched things up with mum, and we didn't really want to betray that trust."
"George, I am in this with you both one hundred percent," I said. "I have wanted this for as long as you have and that isn't changing. It's important to me to finish my last year because I know education was important to my dad, and I appreciate you respecting that. However, if I came down to it — I would set my diploma on fire if it meant being separated from the likes of either of you."
George leaned in and kissed me, "and we would never ask you to do that, ever. What's important to you is important to us—"
"I'm not going to kiss you like George, but I will agree with everything else," said Fred, obviously eavesdropping. He swooped up behind me and slung me over his shoulder to carry me inside while I just dangled there like a ton of bricks, laughing.
Morning Transfiguration would kill me before the term was over with. There was something about McGonagall's dry voice and no-nonsense tone that nearly put me to sleep at any hour of the day. I enjoyed the subject, truly I did, but mornings were not my time to shine. Lee and Angelina were in class with me, but they learned long ago not to wait on me if they wanted to get to class on time.
I had to sprint to avoid first class tardiness, my face was bright red and my robes slightly askew. Lee and Angelina were seated at a table in the back corner.
"McGonagall went to find two more lamps to transfigure into raccoons, so you're not late," said Lee as I walked by.
There was only one open seat left, near the front, and next to Alicia. I felt all eyes on me as I slowly approached the open seat and pulled back the chair. Alicia has been organizing her things and didn't notice me until I pulled back the chair, "is this seat taken?"
Alicia looked up with a smile that fell when she saw it was me, "Oh, yes— I mean, no one is sitting there. Yes, you can sit if you like."
I nodded with a faint smile and took the seat. I could hear a collective exhale from the class. I had unpacked my book, parchment, and quill before Alicia spoke again, "I'm sorry I didn't get to say 'goodbye' at the award ceremony."
I could tell by her tone and expression that she was being genuine, "Uh, yeah, I didn't exactly make the most elegant of exits."
"I don't blame you," she said, and I paused my situating to glance over at her. She cleared her throat and fidgeted with her thumb ring. "I only mean that Oliver had been a proper prat to you towards the end there and you didn't deserve it."
She was being decent, and I didn't know what to think. I had fallen for her sweetness and it had come back to bite me before. I was apprehensive to let down my guard with her after everything we had gone through.
"How is he doing?" I asked in a quiet, sheepish voice, without looking up from my hands. I didn't have the nerve to see her expression.
"Um, I would be lying if I said he wasn't a mess," she said in a gentle tone. "I stayed the night with Jasper the day before we boarded the Express so he could take me to King's Cross the next morning. I saw Oliver come out of his room once, and he looked rather thin. He had bags under his eyes and it looked like he hadn't brushed his hair in quite awhile."
My chest ached as I slowly nodded because I didn't have the words to express how bad that made me feel. I didn't want him to hurt.
"He is getting his own place, you know," said Alicia, trying to lift my spirits. "Jasper is keeping the flat in London and Oliver found a small house in Dorset that seems lovely."
"Will you move into the flat with Jasper next summer?"
Alicia blushed and shrugged, "that's the plan, I suppose."
"Brilliant," I said, still feeling a horrible pain in my chest.
I suddenly felt very hot. I rested my forehead in my hand, my elbow propped up on the table. I hated that Oliver was hurting and that I was the source of his pain. I knew I had hurt him but hearing a firsthand account made things more real.
"He'll be okay, Winnie," said Alicia, placing her hand over my forearm. "It's not your fault."
"It certainly feels that it is," I breathed. "It makes things worse that he knows I'm with…er—"
"George?" she said.
"Yes," I replied.
"That isn't your fault either," she said. "It was bound to happen, you and George. I could see it clear as crystal when I was with him. I was so hateful to you because I was just waiting for the day to come that both of you would wake up and realize it yourselves."
I tilted my neck to peer over at her, "Alicia, you exposed my gift to the wizarding world to get back at me for something I never even did, and you spent over a year trying to destroy my friendship with George. We were friends since we were eleven years old, and you treated me like your enemy because you were intimidated by the preexisting friendship I had with a boy I grew up with."
Out of nowhere, Alicia's eyes filled with tears that came pouring down her face. She didn't sniffle or cry, just sat silently as her cheeks became wetter and wetter. Her bottom lip quivered as she parted her lips, "I think about what I lost every single day, about what I did."
"Why did you—"
"My dad left us," she said in a whisper. "The summer before our fifth year. He just went to take the dog on a walk and never came home."
"What?" I breathed. "Did something happen to him?"
"He ran off with his assistant," said Alicia. "They have a new baby, kept the family dog, and live in Brighton now. He and my mum hadn't been getting on for a while, and I knew that, but I didn't expect he would just up and leave us. He sends postcards to me at school sometimes, but I only see him on Christmas."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, and I meant it.
"My dad doesn't help out since they had the new baby… a girl… she's called Lydia. My mum has been struggling to keep a roof over our heads, and she really relies on me now — you know?"
"Why didn't you ever say anything to us then?" I asked. "We would have been there for you. We were your friends."
"Because I was humiliated," she said. "I was always so proud of where I came from. My dad has a great job with the ministry, and we lived in this big house with lavish holidays — and then it was all gone — just like that. It was my pride. I've only told Jasper. He comes off like a twat sometimes, but he's been there for me through a lot of it."
Alicia straightened her posture and quickly wiped away her tears and released a heavy sigh, "that still isn't an excuse for how I behaved, and I wish I could take it all back. I knew I fancied George, and I kept thinking he would do to me what my dad did to my mum. When it was all said and done, I was the one that spoiled everything. What I'm trying to say is… I don't ever expect you to forgive me for what I've done, but I need you to know I'm sorry — for everything."
"Well, I'm sorry I gave you a black eye," I smirked.
"That really did hurt," she chuckled.
"I have a wicked right hook, what can I say?" I shrugged, grinning.
—
"You made up, just like that?" said Fred, aghast, snapping his fingers together. "After everything she's done to you? All the damage she has caused?"
"Fred, I am not co-signing a lease with the girl," I said, rolling my eyes. "I just don't want to spend anymore time hating each other. We were friends once—"
"Yes, before she exposed your power for her own selfish gain," said George.
"And spent a good amount of time trying to create a rift between you and George," said Angelina, passing me the butter.
"Again," I said slowly, emphasizing every syllable. "I am not weaving a friendship bracelet for her, but if she is being genuine and truly meant what she said then I am willing to forgive her."
"You are certainly more forgiving than I am," said Fred.
"Well, we knew that," I frowned. "You still haven't forgiven me from that time I singed your eyebrows off when we were nine."
"Nor will I," said Fred, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "They grew back crooked, and you're to blame for the sole imperfection on my otherwise flawless face."
"You dared me to belch fire, and I did it!"
"Winnie, you're to blame for that," said George, sipping his water. "You know better than to do anything Fred says. Me on the other hand, I have perfect eyebrows and a track record of truth."
"George, you once convinced me that the ghoul in our attic would come eat my toes while I slept if I didn't armpit fart the alphabet every night before I went to bed."
"Okay, but do you still have all your toes?" said George exasperatedly, "Exactly. You're welcome."
"Just shut up and pass me the potatoes," I frowned, accepting the potato bowl from George.
Angelina took the bowl from me after I took my portion and leaned in close so no one could overhear her, "did you ask her about Oliver?"
"Uh huh," I said, trying to garner any attention from the others, especially George.
"Bad?"
"Uh huh," I replied in the same airy tone.
"How do you feel?"
"It doesn't matter how I feel," I whispered.
"Of course it does," Angeline hissed under her breath.
"I knew he would be hurt, but I didn't anticipate him taking things this hard," I said quietly. "After the way he had been acting, I assumed he wouldn't notice I was out of his life."
"And what now that you know that isn't the case, and he obviously cares about you more than you—"
"Enough," I said in a very harsh tone, slamming down my fork.
"Alright there, ladies?" said Fred.
All of our friends had ceased their conversations to stare at us. I looked over Fred and sent him a pained smile, "I've just lost my appetite. I think I'll just head to bed. I've got a splitting headache all of the sudden."
"I'll walk you back," said George, setting down his fork and placing his napkin from his lap to the tabletop.
"Don't be ridiculous," I said, using his shoulder to push myself up out of my seat. "I'm fine, just need a good night's sleep."
I kissed George's cheek and avoided Angelina's concerned look as I removed myself from the uncomfortable conversation.
—
"Hello there, McKinnon," said a deep voice from the darkness behind me. Graham Montague crept out of the shadows, broom in hand. He must have been practicing quidditch with the rest of the Slytherin buffoons. "Where is your weasel boyfriend?"
"Go away, Graham," I said, rolling my eyes. "I am not in the mood today."
I kept walking to the Common Room, but I could hear his heavy footsteps and broom skidding every so often against the stone floor. I spun around to see him dangerously close to me.
"Why are you following me?" I spat. "What do you need — directions?"
"I saw you had a busy summer," said Graham.
"Avid reader of Witch Weekly are you, Montague?" I sneered. "I didn't think you were literate."
"I saw you snogging one of your weasels," he replied. "I imagine Oliver Wood wasn't happy to see it either."
"You don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, pivoting around on my heel and stomping off even though I knew he would follow me. "Leave me alone."
"Not until we're done talking," he insisted, quickening his strides until he caught up with me. He grabbed onto my arm and spun me around. "We are Seventh Years now."
"Oh, well spotted," I frowned.
"You know I've fancied you all this time," he said slowly. "I fancied you long before Wood did, before that ginger prick did—"
"Don't call him—"
"I did," he interrupted. "I did and you knew, and you never gave me a shot."
"Graham, you do realize that you don't really fancy me, don't you?" I said, narrowing my eyes. "You grew up privileged, you had anything you wanted and even things you didn't just handed to you."
"Because my parents are rich, you think—"
"I was something you thought you wanted when you were eleven," I continued, undaunted. "You cannot get the idea out of your skull that you cannot have me. I'm not something to be had. I didn't return your affections when we were children, and you haven't been able to just move on from my rejection because you've never had to before. You're cruel to my friends. You're possessive and overbearing. You frankly frighten me sometimes. What about that would make me want to be with you?"
"I love you," he insisted in a pathetic, almost desperate voice.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I said, ripping my arm from his grasp. I rolled my eyes and turned around to keep walking. He chased after me once more.
"I mean it," he urged. "I love you, McKinnon."
When I didn't respond, I felt his hand grip my arm again and this time it was much rougher. He yanked me around and pulled me to the side so my back slammed up against the cold stone wall. I kept my jaw locked and my expression blank despite the ache from his jolt.
"Listen to me," he growled.
"You want to know why I never returned your feelings, Graham," I sneered. "This. This is why."
I threw my hands up in the air to reference his abusive actions. He looked at me as if I had just told him 2 + 2 equaled giraffe and took a step backwards. He looked as if he had just woken up from sleepwalking and didn't realize what he was doing.
"Winnie?"
It was Angelina, jogging down the corridor to catch up to me.
"Here, Ang," I called back. She saw Montague and a look of concern came over her.
"Alright there?"
"Fine, Montague here just needed directions," I replied, glaring up at him, "but I think he knows where to go from here."
"I'm sorry I upset you," said Angelina.
"There have been way too much fighting and apologizing today," I replied, locking my arm in here as we walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room. "Don't apologize. I'm just tired. I shouldn't have snapped."
"I shouldn't have come at you like that," she replied. "I just know you must be feeling guilty, and as your friend, I don't want you bottling that up until it eats you alive."
"I thought once I ended things that it would be easier," I said. "I am so happy with George, and care about him so much— I feel guilty that my feelings for Oliver haven't just evaporated."
"Winnie, he was your first boyfriend and he was the first boy you ever loved," said Angelina. "You were together for two years, so it's okay to grieve your relationship with Oliver while being excited about your new one with George."
"They don't tell you when you break up, what you remember are only the good things," I said sadly. "I don't regret ending it, but I am sad that something that once made me so happy turned into something that made me so sad."
Angelina, nearly a head taller than me, slung her arm over my shoulders and tilted her head to touch mine affectionately.
"I'm here for you, my pint-sized friend," said Angelina, squeezing me against her. "Whatever you need."
"Thanks, you beautiful Amazon woman," I replied, smirking. It was quiet for a moment before we reached the Fat Lady. "Hey, Ang?"
"Yeah?" she said, stepping into the portrait hole.
"Don't tell Fred or George you saw me alone with Montague, alright?"
"Why?" she snorted, leading the way up the girls' staircase. "Afraid George will think you're in the midst of a secret love affair?"
"Right," I said slow and sarcastically. "Fred and George didn't want to finish their last year to begin with, and I don't want either of them to feel like this term is anything but fun and stress free."
How naive I was.
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A/N: Again, thank you for sticking with me. Fred, George, and Freddie have so much more of their story to tell. I won't give up on their story as long as you don't give up on me!
PS: Ignore any typos.
Coming soon: Quidditch becomes quite quarrelsome, Winnie's visions save a life, Dumbledore's Army grows stronger, and Graham Montague may be more dangerous than anyone could have ever anticipated…
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Review.
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