Hermione appears suddenly before me; she's so teeny it must be simpler for her to squeeze through the crowds. "What have you gone and done?" she demands of me, swatting aside Fred's less-than-helpful wand.
I shrug at her with all the nonchalance I can muster, in reality I'm getting a bit lightheaded. "I jus' wanted to see what it's like, thas' all," I huff out, airily.
Hermione raises an extremely judgmental dark eyebrow first at me, then at Fred, who winces. "We've never had a muggle try one before," he mutters, looking down at his feet, "George's in the back, trying to see if we've got any clotting potion leftover from when it was still in its tester stage."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," I sway on my feet as I flick my wrist in a show of support, as though brushing off their concerns, "I have a really excellent immune system. Truly. Top-notch."
Fred looks even more alarmed than he did a second ago. Hermione just mutters, "Oh, bother," and pulls her wand out of her charming satin red clutch purse. Glancing briefly around us to gauge who all might be watching, she points the end of it directly towards my nostril and snaps, "Sanguinis Prohibis – finite!"
She squints for only a moment at my nose before muttering, "Scourgify," and I see the red river Styx which had previously been on my face get sucked into the end of her wand. As I twitch it back and forth Bewitched-style, testing its range of motion, Fred abruptly seizes Hermione's wrist from between the three of us and shakes her roughly.
"Hermione!" he hisses, "What are you thinking? You could be expelled!" He's vigilantly scanning the windows, as though expecting a Ministry owl to come swooping in at any second.
"Relax, Fred," Hermione snatches her hand back and drops her wand into its spot in her still-open clutch. "Kingsley had the trace removed from me," she clears her throat and looks down, fiddling with the clasp, "Just for today, that is."
Silence falls as Fred registers what she's referring to, and our quiet trio is at an extreme odds to the rest of the chaotic store. Just as Fred opens his mouth to say something, George bursts through a wall of people to my left, clutching a pair of tampons.
"Oi! So we haven't any of the potion left, but Angelina left a box of these bad boys in the flat upstairs, and I figure logistically they can probably…" He trails off, seeing my gorgeously clean face. "Ah-," he swallows, glancing quickly down at the feminine products in his hand, "I see you've solved it. Well done, then."
"If you're quite done waving those buggers around, George," Tonks chimes in, as she's suddenly at my shoulder, "Your shop assistants look like they're going to begin weeping soon."
George gives me a sheepish smile before placing one of the tampons behind his ear, holding the other out for Fred to do the same. "Right," Fred says, jauntily placing his tampon behind the opposite ear, "Duty calls." The twins are lost almost immediately in the surrounding masses as they resume their responsibilities as Wheezes' owners.
Tonks is staring at me. Her eyes are bulging a bit, and I can tell she's absolutely bursting to say something but doesn't want to in front of Hermione. I turn to look at the young witch still standing in front of me, and I brush some of her wayward curls back behind her ear. Her eyes are a little unfocused, but at my touch she seems to come back to herself. "You alright?" I ask, softly.
She had seemed to feel better after our talk, by the time Sirius had interrupted, that is. I didn't tell her necessarily about the illnesses of my family members, or of my deal with Dumbledore; but I did tell her about my brothers, and my mother and father. Hearing about them, and how much I miss them, seemed to prompt her to talk about a lot of the residual fear she's feeling about the schism between herself and her parents.
She hadn't been wrong, I definitely understand. I feel determined to let her know that we're a club, a team of sorts.
A team of voluntary orphans.
My stomach feels tight with the heartache and guilt – I don't usually dwell on loss for this long of a time.
It's my turn to become unfocused. I must have zoned out because I come back to myself when Hermione places a dainty forefinger between my eyes, and presses on the worried crease that's formed there.
"Yes, Finnie," she sighs, but gives me a small smile, "I'm as alright as you are." I smile back, but Hermione's attention is diverted by Ron and Harry shouting her name from some place against the wall of the shop, maybe ten feet away. I can only see the top of Ron's hair.
"'MIONE!" Harry shouts.
"Harry, stop-," we can hear Ron hiss.
"RON HAS FOUND SOMETHING-"
"NO, NO I HAVENT. IT'S NOTHING-"
"-SOMETHING YOU'VE REALLY GOT TO SEE-"
"Harry put it back, I swear to-"
There's a scuffle, and Hermione looks thoroughly intrigued. She starts to dip between the gaps in the crowd, soon lost from sight as she migrates to where her best friends are struggling.
"Fucking finally," I hear Tonks snap from over my shoulder, and her hands – with extremely fucking cold fingers, what the hell – grasp me by the upper arms from behind and begin to propel me in the direction of a relatively vacant corner of the store. I catch the briefest glimpse of Sirius and Lupin chatting with Fleur and Bill as I'm ferried past, the two men following our swift progression with raised brows.
We slow as we round some shelves stacked with muggle magic tricks, costumes, and store-bought illusions. "Is this how women come on to each other in Britain?" I quip at her, fingering a plain white mask with holes for eyes as we pass an assortment on a small carousel. "Is this the designated make-out corner? Because I have to tell you, the whole approach has been a bit aggressive, but I'm finding that I don't mind."
"Hush now," she circles my body, coming to face me, but with her back to the wall so that she can observe the rest of the room. Her cold as shit fingers are still on my shoulders.
"Three things," she holds up three fingers in front of me, and drops them one by one in demonstration, "One: No, I'm not going to snog you. You're a laugh, but you're not my type. My type is apparently grizzled, ball-less, flesh-craving, furry men who aren't taller than me-"
"I think his name is pronounced: Ree…Miss…Loo-"
"Yes, fine. Hush now," she snaps back, not appreciative of my phonetics lesson. "Two: this-," she drops her hand to her canvas messenger bag slung across her body. Lifting the buckled flap, she dips inside and emerges immediately with a red stick, "-is yours." She thrusts it into my hand, and I take a good look at it.
It's my 'wand.' Dumbledore and Moody intend for me to carry around a fake wand in order to be disguised as thoroughly as possible, which makes sense I guess. It's a fairly simple thing, carved as a single, polished slab up until you reach the handle which is-
"Hey," I flip it over in my hand to show her the handle, "They fucking forgot to finish it. What is all this?"
Tonks grins just barely, but says, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I shake the stick up under her nose, "They didn't whittle it all the way or whatever, there's still bark all over the handle."
At this, Tonks actually snorts. Her hazel eyes are twinkling, and I know she's noticed that my stick is different from all of their sticks. And that it's weird.
"That's the style," she says, her nose wrinkled mockingly, "in the States. We figured your wand should reflect the style of wand from where you're from so…" she gestures helplessly to it.
I pout. The handle feels funny, like an especially tactical grip. I look down at it in my hand, and study it further.
"It's redwood, naturally," Tonks explains, "but its core is actually squid. They use colossal squid cores in some of the wands over there along the west coast, so we figured its distant cousin could fool anyone, preliminarily."
"Stupid…weird…uncircumcised, sushi wand…" I mutter darkly. But I'm already fiddling with it, so I turn to my side and drop it into my slouchy leather bag. "What was the third thing?" I ask Tonks, turning back to her.
"Oh," she looks a bit surprised that she forgot, "Yes, number three-," she resumes holding up three fingers and says very importantly, "You've got to be my best mate."
"I KNEW IT!" I shriek at her delightedly, "You are coming on to me! I'm flattered, babe, really, but I don't want to have to fight a werewolf every two weeks or so for the number one spot between your sheets-"
"HUSH," She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, and I'm thinking she may already be reconsidering her decision to be good friends with me. I can't quelch the bubble of excitement, though. I need friends.
"Whatever, I mean," Tonks puts her hands on her hips, "I don't have to explain myself to you. But, that's that. I need someone to talk to about all…this…shit. And you're it. Congratulations."
I feel surprisingly giddy. Tonks is incredibly funny, and while it's been great having the support of the kids since I've arrived (yes, Fred and George are kids they're fucking nineteen), it would be so amazing to have someone to talk to who is my age. But I am curious…
"Why?" I blurt out, suddenly. She looks a little hurt, and I hurry to expand on my outburst, "Not that I'm not super into it – being friends, and all. Lord knows talking to sixteen year olds isn't the same, but I was just wondering, why?"
Her face changes and she looks thoughtful. Her pink hair is a deep shade today, almost red, with matching eyebrows and eyelashes. She looks supremely cool, very punk. Plus she's an auror, so even though she doesn't know it, I held what is essentially the muggle-equivalent to her job twenty years from now. The more I think about it, the more excited I get.
"I guess it occurred to me when I saw how you are with Moody…and how you and Sirius have been getting on," my heart sinks a little, and it must have shown on my face because she hurries to say, "It's been really great, watching him with you. I don't know if you realize, but he and I are cousins. And-"
"What do you mean, how we've been getting on?" My gut had spasmed the second she had uttered that phrase, and I can't seem to stop the word vomit, "Because one second he's fucking flirty and weird and nice, and the next he's super cold and distant and does not seem to like me, and I don't know if he's said anything to you, but you're MY friend now and you have to fucking tell me if he does because cousin or not, that's what loyalty means-,"
She's laughing. Stupid bitch hasn't been my friend for two minutes and she's fucking laughing at me.
"Oh sweet Circe," she giggles, holding her stomach and wiping at one eye, "Is that what I've been sounding like this whole time? No wonder Mad-Eye and Molly look like they want to curse off my left tit-"
Immediately to the left of Tonks, there is a display of handheld muggle funhouse mirrors. In one of the mirrors, though terribly distorted, I see a figure approaching our corner which sends a fissure of recognition through my unconscious. I've never met him before, but I'm positive of who he is.
And I need to talk to him.
"Tonks," I say in a low voice, but she's still laughing. "Tonks," I hiss, and she shuts up. I tear my eyes off the reflection in order to look up into her face, she's like two inches taller than me, even with my heels. "If we're friends now, that means that you trust me," I continue fast and low, "And if you trust me, I need to you to disguise yourself. Like, now."
With zero hesitation, the flesh of her face begins to reform like candle wax, and her short tufts of pink immediately shoot for her shoulders and darken. Within two seconds, she's got bright blue eyes and black, flippy hair. Just before the man turns the corner, I have to suppress a laugh.
Tonks has turned herself into Courtney Cox.
I dart my arm out, intimately link it with hers, and face the shelves directly in front of us. As the tall, stately wizard emerges fully into view, leading the way cane-first, I glance up at him as though I was just reading the instructions on a pack of pinochle cards.
His piercing gaze finds mine, and I repress a shiver. However, I look back boldly. This is one of the opportunities that Moody would fully expect me to take advantage of. Beside me I feel Tonks stiffen imperceptivity. In order to keep his attention on me, I offer a wide, dazzling smile.
"Why, Lucius Malfoy, this is the last place I would have thought to have run into a wizard such as yourself," I practically chirp at him. I'm attempting to give the impression of almost blinding cheerfulness, but, internally, my instincts have awoken and are beginning to swirl around my insides, looking for an opening.
If he's taken aback by my forwardness, he doesn't show it. The Death Eater gives no outward sign of acknowledgement but to flit his eyes just barely between the pair of us, perhaps attempting to recall our faces. He says in a low, aristocratic drawl that clearly gives the impression that I had better have had an extremely good reason for addressing him, "I don't believe that I've had the pleasure." He sneers just slightly, and I feel a little dirty when his gaze becomes appraising. His eyes move down my body with unabashed ease, "Miss…?"
I raise an eyebrow with a grin as though admonishing him, but I extend my hand, the one not intertwined in Tonks' arm, "Sjofn…Sjofn Kent."
Get it? Kent? As in, Clark Kent? Ha.
A flash of recognition at my name appears in his eyes, and he extends his large hand to grasp the tips of my fingers with the tips of his fingers. Very proper.
"Ah, yes…" he's fully assessing me now, "Our American guest." He straightens his stance, holding his cane directly in front on him, both hands on the handle, "My understanding is that you are to accompany Viktor Krum to my wife's soiree later this week." He says Krum's name with a snappish tone, as though he's still reserving judgement on the man. I keep my face calm and friendly as he goes on, "And your taciturn companion is…?" He transfers his piercing gaze to Tonks.
Similar to his portrayal in film, Lucius Malfoy is almost fox-like. His features are sharp and pointy, from his widow's peak to his chin. Nothing about his demeanor is particularly friendly, but at this point I just have to do my best not to set off any of his alarm bells. The majority of my illusion is incomplete without Krum with me, but I can maybe set a couple of things in motion here ahead of time.
"This is my tour guide for the day-," I rest my unoccupied hand on Tonks' forearm and look at her, smiling, "-Amal Clooney. She attended Durmstrang with Viktor, you know." Hope to fuck he does not, in fact, know, "She's kindly agreed to entertain me while he attends to other appointments." Tonks, to her eternal credit, doesn't bat or flutter a single eyelash. Courtney Cox's face is composed and cold, precisely how a dark-arts aficionado from Durmstrang should look.
"Eet ees vedy gud to meetyu'," Tonks warbles out, in an oddly convincing Bulgarian accent.
Lucius smiles thinly at her, but turns his attention back to me. "I must warn you, my dear, you've already become quite the topic of discussion between my wife and her friends." No shit. By her friends, he means his friends. And by his friends, he means other Death Eaters. "I worry they will have a great many… questions for you."
Oh yeah, I'm sure you've got questions you creepy soulless bastard.
I smile, despite the veiled threat, and look at him meaningfully as I respond, "Oh, I'm certain she will, Mr. Malfoy. But I'm also certain I'm prepared to answer any questions she can think up." I brighten my smile, just a tad, "Believe it or not, my colleagues from back in the States equipped me with a number of questions as well."
At this moment, a great paper origami parrot swoops overhead. I can't repress a jump, and Lucius Malfoy's eye twitches just barely. It opens its flimsy beak and lets forth a cackling cry that resonates throughout the store. "LAST CALL," it screeches, "LAST CALL! TAKE YOUR PURCHASES TO THE REGISTER, EMPTY YOUR POCKETS," another screech, "LAST CALL!"
Lucius Malfoy is staring at it with open disdain. With a regal inclination of his head, he mutters to me, "Until this Saturday, Miss Sjofn," and withdraws behind the shelves with a swoosh of his cloak. Before he fully disappears, however, I hear him snap, "Draco! We're leaving."
All the air in my body leaves me in a great huff. Breathing hard through my nose, I force Tonks to keep frozen with me using the firm grip I've got of her left arm. I count to thirty before I begin to move swiftly for the exit, Tonks in tow.
"What in the bloody hell-," she begins to hiss at me.
"Shh," I snap back. We're not far enough away yet.
Down the street, amid the dispersing crowd, stands our squad. Sirius, Lupin, Bill, Fleur, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are all scanning the mass of people, looking for us. Tonks, still in disguise, halts me abruptly as I was preparing to swing pass them in an effort to maintain the secrecy of my identity and affiliations.
"Malfoy went the opposite direction-," she grunts, responding to my look of alarm, "-towards Knockturn Alley. Now what in Neptune's balls was that about?"
"Malfoy?" Harry starts looking over our shoulders, trying to catch a glimpse of his nemesis.
"Tonks?" Lupin asks a little weakly; he is staring at Courtney Cox with some unease. Sirius says nothing, but watches us approach with a coolly distant expression.
Fuck. Whatever.
Tonks slides a look of contempt at Lupin while she shifts back to normal. As soon as she's fully morphed she turns back to face me and demands, "Well?"
Well, shit. Dumbledore or Moody or someone should have told them about this.
"Krum was invited to the Malfoy's thingy because they're recruiting him to be a Death Eater," I fold my arms in front of my chest a little defensively. I'm keeping my eyes on Tonks, but beside me I can hear Ron splutter and Hermione gasp at this new tidbit of information.
Tonks looks thoroughly peeved at me and doesn't let up, "Yes, I'm aware of that. He's supposed to try to use that connection to help the Order. What I want to know is what the fuck it has to do with you."
Bill and Arthur are staring at me with hard expressions, and I'm thinking they already know the answer. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, bless their hearts, just look confused.
I would really rather prefer we not have this conversation in the middle of the fucking street, but fine.
"Well," I say as firmly as I can, "I'm going as his date. To help."
Sirius inhales extremely sharply through his nose; Lupin turns to Tonks and demands, "Mad-Eye didn't say anything about this?" Molly, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione look struck dumb. Bill is pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger, and Arthur looks almost nauseous.
Harry however, snaps at me, his green eyes flashing behind his glasses, "You're going to get killed."
I turn to the messy-haired wizard. High splotches of color have appeared on his cheeks, and he looks a little bit like he wants to shake me until my teeth rattle. Rather than getting angry back at him, I do my best to take his concern to heart and say as calmly as I can, "No. I won't."
"Yes, you will," Harry raises his voice even more, "They'll be able to tell. And when they find out you're a muggle, they're going to kill you." His hands are fists at his sides, "Are you even trying to help? Because you're basically just handing yourself over-"
"Harry," Sirius suddenly growls, his teeth bared, "That's enough."
Harry seems ready to open his mouth to retort but I've had plenty of that. I may not be able to show them exactly why I'm not a fucking doormat, but they should have more faith.
Not all muggles are just ants waiting to be crushed.
"I'm not going to tell you why," I rumble at him, feeling extremely pissed off, "I'm not going to fucking explain myself, but you are going to have to trust…me," I bite out these last words, wanting this fucking conversation to end. Everyone goes quiet.
Harry looks mildly surprised at my vehemence, but I can tell his anger hasn't completely cooled.
Then, softly, Hermione chimes in, "I trust you, Finnie."
Abruptly, Sirius spins on his heel and storms off, away from everyone in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. After a moment's hesitation, Harry jogs after him. The younger wizard aims a slightly apologetic look at me over his shoulder as he struggles to catch up with his godfather.
The irritation I had only begun to feel flares into all-out anger.
What an asshole.
"I theenk it eez good that she weel be weeth Viktor," Fleur chooses this moment to give her two cents, Bill's arm slung about her shoulders. "He weel need all the support he can get 'aving to be weeth all those 'orrible people."
I sniff injuredly, "Thank you, Fleur."
I hear Bill start whispering urgently into Fleur's ear, and whatever he says makes her frown. However, I choose instead to look sidelong at the woman who had only just appointed me her best friend.
"Are you angry?" I ask her softly, "Do you want to storm off, too?"
Tonks is standing very stiffly, with her arms crossed in front of her tightly, staring at the ground. At my words her dark hazel eyes flash up to meet mine, her mouth set in a grim line. Lupin looks conflicted, he keeps glancing behind him at Sirius and Harry's retreating forms, as though he should follow, but stays close to Tonks instead.
Tonks, though, is holding my eyes. "Moody and Dumbledore approved this?" she clips out.
I hold her gaze, but then choose to look to everyone else in our small huddle in turn as well. Ginny's jaw is set in an aggravated clench as she watches Harry's shrinking silhouette. "It was their idea," I tell them all, unable to keep a small note of exasperation out of my voice.
"I promise," I turn fully back to Tonks, practically begging her to trust me, "I'm not going to fuck this up and die. I promise."
Her hard expression has relaxed at my words, everyone's has, really. Her eyes soften and she says, "Ok, Finnie. If you say so."
Thank fuck no one else decides to chime in. Everyone is silent.
After a few seconds, Lupin clears his throat. "Finnie," he says hesitantly, "Sirius mentioned it earlier-," he winces at Sirius' name, since he's being such a flaming asshat right this moment, "-but I don't think it's possible for you to get near Hogsmeade for our dinner." He looks downright apologetic as he explains, "I've just talked it over with Arthur and Bill as well, and we're fairly certain there will be wards in place preventing you from apparating or flooing onto the premises."
My heart sinks. Oh, damn.
It must have shown on my face because Molly is suddenly hurrying towards me, Ginny by her side, "Oh dear, I'm so terribly sorry! It's just so late now to try to get another reservation, and we really should have been more careful."
Ginny pushes herself into my side until I'm forced to lift my arm and place it about her shoulders, "You will come with us next time, Fin." She holds out her hand, palm-up, and I take the paper football folded from a chocolate frog wrapper. "Fred and George will have loads of anniversaries to celebrate," she looks up at me hopefully.
"…the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face."
Will they, though?
Slightly disturbed by the trend of my darkened thoughts, I take a deep breath and smile at everyone. "Well that works out just fine, because I'm suddenly in the mood to get very, very drunk."
"Excellent!" Tonks announces, "I'll help you." She extricates me from Ginny's hold, "Give the boys our love, tell them we owe them a drink," she says merrily to Molly and Arthur. "In fact, if you get back to Grimmauld Place before we've gone out, I shall be happy to suggest they accompany us to make up for our lapse in celebration."
Lupin looks as though he wants to say something, but Tonks starts firmly guiding me away from the group. Molly and Arthur say some words of farewell, and the kids all give rueful smiles as they begin to march in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, belatedly following the path of Sirius and Harry. A second later, however, I hear, "Weel zere be dancing?" Fleur has stayed rooted to the spot, not following Bill and the rest of the Weasleys, and appears to be addressing Tonks and me.
"Uh," I say, sliding a glance to Tonks, "Yeah, there might be."
She nods determinedly, causing her silver hair to ripple and catch the fading light. I see Bill watching it as she turns to him and says, "Bill, I weel be going dancing, I theenk." Bill shakes his head a little to clear it, but stoops to kiss her forehead and murmurs, "Alright, darling." Before he can say much else, however, Mrs. Weasley has doubled-back in order to take his arm, "That's quite all right dear," she says cheerfully to Fleur, "You go and have a good time. The boys will like for it to be a more intimate family affair, anyway." Giving us one last wave, she trots after her husband with her eldest son frowning down at her.
Fleur gives him one last, lingering look before marching over to where Tonks and I have been standing, frozen. Her beautiful, flawless face is marred with irritation. "We weel go dancing," she clips out, "But first, we weel 'ave some drinks."