Impossible Love

Chapter Eight – Study Sessions

One of the notable features of the First Wizarding War was the extent to which Voldemort and his supporters sought to undermine the morale of the Wizarding community in Britain. Their campaign of terrorism was not solely limited to Ministry targets. Voldemort's so-called 'Death Eaters' targeted innocent families in the Wizarding World to help spread fear and passivity amongst witches and wizards terrified their family would be next.

Of the moves against Voldemort and his followers, the Order of the Phoenix (the resistance movement established by Albus Dumbledore) was arguably the most successful, yet it remained decimated by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Its deceased members included Edgar Bones and Marlene McKinnon; they were not only killed in the fight against the Dark Lord, but their families suffered the same tragic fate in targeted Death Eater attacks. The indiscriminate nature of the violence left many wizards reluctant to join the Order and fight. Perhaps one of the most shocking instances was the brutal torturing of the aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom by the Lestranges using the Cruciatus Curse. Rather than simply killing the pair, the convicted Death Eaters chose to torture them into insanity; a crime that would see them all imprisoned in Azkaban. Their sentence would offer little comfort to the relations of the Longbottom family and their 1-year old son who was left effectively orphaned in the attack.

Lara stopped reading and brought her fingertips to her temples. Letting her eyes shut, she rubbed in slow circles and took a deep breath. She couldn't believe that she didn't know this about Neville already. She loved History and Ancient Runes, but prior to the DADA assignment, she didn't know much about the First Wizarding War beyond the basics that everyone knew. This would be the reason why Hogwarts was a place of solace for Neville. With such a trauma in his home-life, it was no wonder he had looked forward to returning each September.

Lara felt an immense sense of gratitude for her mum, Joy. Losing her dad had been tough, but her mum was the constant support for her. In Neville's case, he'd grown up without any of the normal experiences a son should have with his parents. Plus, Lara had a childhood of memories with her father alive and well – Neville's parents were alive, but every memory was tainted by the unforgivable war crime of those Death Eaters.

The textbook slipped out of her lap. Rather than the expected thud as it hit the rug beneath, Lara was more startled to open her eyes and see Jamie on his knees, arms outstretched, with the book in his hands.

"Here," he said, placing it on the sofa and taking a seat next to her. "You ok?"

Lara slowly nodded in response. She didn't feel capable of explaining to the Head Boy what had affected her so much, and she didn't think it was her business either to discuss Neville's parents with him.

"What are you even reading anyway?"

Jamie rotated the book to read the title: Terror and Tragedy: The First Wizarding War Uncovered. He raised his eyebrows as if surprised by her choice of light reading.

"This for your Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment?"

"Yeah, I've pretty much finished. Just doing a bit of extra research," said Lara with a slight shrug.

Jamie flicked to the contents page, scanning the chapter titles before him. He casually turned to a chapter entitled: 'Dark Magic: Objects and Artefacts'.

"Ah ha, let's see …" Jamie traced his finger elaborately down the page. "Fourth paragraph down – not bad."

Lara's puzzled expression was enough for Jamie to hand her the book and point to the offending paragraph.

Given Caractacus Burke's connection with Voldemort in the 1940s, it is no surprise that his shop provided a number of artefacts imbued with the darkest of magic to Voldemort in the 1970s.

Eyes widened in shock, Lara queried, "Is that your - "

"Great-grandfather. Or maybe he's my great-great-grandfather. I forget how many generations back my illustrious ancestor is."

Jamie glowered at the book. It wasn't exactly a connection that he could be proud of; most people would have been despondent at having such a relation on their family tree, and James George Burke was inclined to agree with them.

"Oh Merlin, Jamie. I think I sort of knew he was connected to your family," said Lara, shutting the book and throwing him a sympathetic glance.

Jamie forced a smile and replied through somewhat gritted teeth.

"It's fine. He's not exactly someone I talk about to my friends, never mind you Hepworth."

Lara mentally rolled her eyes. Of course Jamie was back to calling her Hepworth - did she expect anything else? It was clearly a defence mechanism for him. He always seemed to resort to using her surname at those moments where she had gotten too close to him. This year had seemed filled with those moments though. McGonagall had certainly known what she was doing when she'd placed the Head Boy and Head Girl in the shared living arrangements.

Jamie stretched back on the tartan sofa, filling the space with his muscular bulk. Wearing his quidditch training kit, his athleticism was never more apparent than when he wore his house colours. They clung tightly to his biceps and the outline of his abdominals were visible as he leaned back. He yawned loudly, hoping that Lara would take the hint.

Lara interrupted his yawn with a question, "Did anyone ever give you stick for having a relation like that?"

"Stick?" asked Jamie with a sarcastic undertone. "You want to be careful, Princess … your Northern is showing."

Lara was deeply tempted to hurl the textbook at Jamie's head, but she refrained just this once. The sight of his usual smirk brought back her self-control.

"Burke, we can't all have been born with a silver spoon in our mouths like you. I'm not ashamed of my accent, and I don't think you misunderstand my meaning either. You're just being a dick. As usual."

Drawing breath, Lara glared at him as if daring him to continue the argument.

"I love it when you reprimand me, sweetie," said Jamie with a devilish glint in his eye.

Deciding the textbook wasn't quite heavy enough, Lara swung her legs up and delivered a sharp dig to Jamie's thigh.

"Ow!" he yelped.

"Don't call me 'sweetie'," said Lara calmly. "Otherwise I'll start calling you 'a vitriolic snake' again."

Lara began to retract her legs, but she was halted by Jamie's firm grip on her ankles.

"Lara," he said with a deeper tone. "Your legs can stay there. I won't call you that again, so don't kick me. And to answer your unwanted question: no. No-one gave me any 'stick' for it. Least not to my face anyway. Plus, you know what Slytherins are like … half of them wanted to know what I had access to at home."

Jamie eyebrows rose meaningfully at her.

"And what do you have access to at home?" asked Lara, eyes twinkling.

His laugh barked out, "Nothing that dangerous. My dad distanced himself from the family before I was even born, and the shop's run by Borgin anyway."

Satisfied with his response, Lara picked up her book and continued reading. Jamie, with one protective arm over her legs, pulled out his wand and started practising non-verbal spells. Soon, several objects were levitating above the centre of the rug. Lara gave them a cursory glance, noting the assorted quidditch paraphernalia and, bizarrely, her hairbrush, floating in a figure of eight.

Jamie's thumb started slowly circling Lara's ankle like a mirror to her pulse. He seemed unaware of it though, solely focused on the objects he was keeping aloft, so Lara decided to leave him be and returned to her book.

"Did I ask you how your second meeting went with Longbottom?"

The objects had descended to the rug, but Lara hadn't realised, engrossed as she was in an account about Grindelwald and Voldemort's differing tactics.

"Oh, erm … I don't think so," said Lara. Her face flushed with the memory of the brief touch that had passed between herself and Professor Longbottom. "It was fine. I might be able to go to this archaeological dig in Glastonbury, looking at medieval British wizards."

"Riveting, I'm sure. Glad it's getting sorted tho-" Jamie jumped to his feet, sending Lara's legs swinging.

"How's it that time?" he continued in a rush, picking up the beater's bat from the rug. "I'm late for quidditch training. Catch you later. Don't stay up too late."

The blur of green and silver shot through the door with a clatter, slamming it behind him. Silence filled the room like a chasm, and for the first time in a few weeks, Lara wished she was back in the Hufflepuff dormitory with Hestia and the rest of the girls.

No point heading out now. This sofa is far too comfy to leave and wander down towards the common room.

Stretching out full-length, Lara summoned a blanket from her room and tucked herself in. Her DADA presentation was complete, but there was no harm in continuing to read around the topic. After all, she anticipated Professor Weasley asking them about their topic area once the presentation was complete, and she wanted to make sure he was as impressed with her in this class as he was in Ancient Runes.

Whether it was the warmth of the fire, the cosiness of the sofa or the nature of her reading material, Lara soon felt herself drifting off to sleep, with the book resting open on her chest.

A tall woman, with wild black hair, cackled mercilessly - her head thrown back. In the cot in the corner of the room, a baby with floppy dark hair and blue eyes stared transfixed at the twitching body on the floor.

Darkness.

A tall woman, with wild black hair, cackled mercilessly - her head thrown back. On the floor, a man, with blue eyes and dark hair, lay unmoving. A shadow of stubble around his jaw. Blood seeping through the jumper he wore.

Darkness.

A tall woman, with wild black hair, cackled mercilessly - her head thrown back. Leaning against the spindles on a staircase, a young, brown-haired girl was straining to hear the conversation in the other room.

Darkness.

A tall woman, with wild black hair, cackled mercilessly - her head thrown back. On the stairs, the explosion ricocheted through the girl, sending her body hurtling down. Green light. Tears.

Darkness.

Lara tossed and turned on the sofa – her dreams repeating with disturbing changes and unrelenting regularity – until she found peace and darkness at last.

Returning from quidditch training, Jamie smiled at the sight of Lara asleep on the sofa. Her hair was spread out in tangled chocolate waves on the cushion, and her lips were slightly parted. Observing the book, which was placed precariously on her chest, Jamie stepped towards her sleeping form. He made certain that his fingertips didn't brush her breasts as he lifted the book off her and placed it on the floor. A soft, quiet moan escaped her lips.

Not wanting to leave her there, Jamie decided to scoop Lara into his arms and carry her to her room. With his arms supporting her back and her legs, Lara's head rested against his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of jasmine and vanilla that lingered in her hair and walked towards the stairs.

Unbeknownst to Jamie, the movement had woken Lara. She blinked slowly, confused as to where she was, before gaining enough of her senses to speak.

"What are you doing?!" screeched Lara. "Put me down before you drop me."

Startled, Jamie did as he was instructed and lowered Lara's feet to the ground.

"Do you make a habit of picking up sleeping women, Prince Bloody Charming?"

Despite being freshly awoken, Lara's annoyance was clear to see. She was seething.

"Oh I'm sorry," replied Jamie mockingly, crossing his arms across his chest. "There was me doing you a favour. I think what you meant to say was thanks."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting myself to bed," she said with increasingly irritation. "I might not be as fit as you, but the stairs won't defeat me just yet."

"Glad to hear it," retorted Jamie before adding as an afterthought. "I wouldn't have dropped you though."

Huffing in reply, Lara ascended the stairs to her room. Feeling self-conscious that he'd just lifted her up and was now watching her arse, she hurried up the last few steps and slammed the door behind her.

Stripping out of her clothes and into her raspberry pink pyjamas, Lara clambered into bed, pulling the floral yellow duvet up to her ears. She felt tired in spite of her recent nap, and even though she didn't remember the specifics of her earlier dream, she knew it hadn't been a restful sleep.

I think I preferred it when Jamie called me a boring suck-up and hated me. It was easier to deal with than this version of Mr James Burke, she thought as she let sleep take hold of her once more.