In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...
This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.
Oh, and a BIG thanks to my followers and, of course, HeartofAspen for the comments! Enjoy some light lemonade at the beginning of this chapter...
Ella 18
"Oh-oh-OH MY GOD YES!"
Ella collapsed and rolled over to the side, not really caring about the slop that was now all over the inside of her thighs. Her hair was damp from her recent shower, her face was flushed and red, her sheets were now borderline crusty from the three days they had spent together in that room, but she wasn't complaining about that…
"Oh my actual God…" she moaned into the pillow, smiling.
"Phew…" came a lovely tenor voice next to her, lowly groaning. Ella smiled and turned to Neville.
"That was great," she sighed, her whole body hot and cold all at once.
He grinned that dopey grin and looked at her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Phew. Good." He still seemed nervous, even though he had practically moved in since the party at the Burrow. Ella wasn't sure why, especially since they'd had more than enough sex to be comfortable with each other(at least in her mind); perhaps Neville was just a nervous wizard.
Neville closed his eyes and let his breathing calm. Ella curled her fingers through the hair on his chest. Never thought I'd be so turned on by someone so hairy… Her hands ran over his body, lean and taut with abs to spare. Puberty has hit this guy like the damn Hogwarts Express,she thought.
"I am so into you," whispered Ella as she nibbled on his earlobe.
A sort of sharp giggle came along when that damn dopey grin showed up again, this time with an extra added glow to his already flushed cheeks. "Really? Me?" he asked.
She propped herself up on her elbow. "Do we really need to go over this again? I am your girlfriend. You are my boyfriend. Can I make it anymore obvious?"
He quickly rolled over and smothered her with kisses, all over her face, her neck, her shoulders, causing her to laugh and squeal with glee.
"Neville—Neville! Wait a second—" He propped himself up on his hands to look down at her. "We need to take a break." His face fell. "Dude, seriously, it's been two days and we've been having sex for three of them."
"Oh, right," he then rolled off her and laid back. His face wasn't quite blank, but it wasn't quite thoughtful. "I guess we could eat something aside from that delivery pizza stuff," he then suggested.
Ella snorted. "If you could call that crap 'pizza'… Cokeworth is even worse than Hogwarts for proper food."
Neville leaned over and put his chin on her shoulder. "Let's go out somewhere, then? Have breakfast somewhere in London together?" He then wrapped his arms around her from the side and pulled her closer into an almost clingy hug. "We have the whole day! We can do whatever we want now! No more school, no more war…just us! You and me. Boyfriend and girlfriend." Even when he said 'girlfriend' he sounded nervous. Honestly, what did she have to do to get him to relax?
"It might be late for breakfast, babe; I don't even know what time it is right now." Ella gave a tiny laugh and patted his whiskered cheek, almost as if what he was saying were true. The life of a Pureblooded Witch was the life she was leading, and she was beginning to learn it wasn't ever going to be truly free. However, it was a beautiful day at the end of May, and the sun seemed to be beckoning to shine upon Ella's face. At very least, it might be nice to pretend that she and Neville could truly do whatever it was they pleased, for the day. After all, they were both young and privileged, so at least some joy might come of that, she reckoned.
She turned her head and leaned it against his. "You should shower before we go."
He shrugged in that nervous twitchy way he did. "Probably, yeah."
Ella sat up and nodded pointedly to the bathroom. "There are plenty clean towels in the cabinet above the toilet. I want you to use the green ones, not the blue. Got it?"
Neville then got a bit red in the face and tried his very best to give a sort of seductive smile but it ended up being the dopey grin again. "Wanna join me? You know, in there?"
Shaking her head, the lovely witch stood up from the bed, the towel falling from her svelte form. "I want to have clothing on my body for the first time in 72 hours." She nodded again towards the bathroom. "Go. I'll clean your clothes for you while you're in there."
He smiled and kissed her and then scurried into the bathroom, bare-assed. Ella had to admit, he was lots of fun, and he did bring her joy, even though his behavior was quite akin to a nervous little Chihuahua. She knew, though, in her heart that beneath that scared little kitten was beating the heart of a noble lion, and one that had saved her in more ways than one.
Ella stretched a little and took her wand from the nightstand. With one, two, three big rings around her head and a point at the bed, she cried "Tergeo!" The sheets fixed themselves and the wand siphoned off any liquids that were staining them. She then stood at the very corner of her bedroom and swished her wand three times counter-clockwise, and cast "Mundatis camerameam!"
Pillows flew, as did clothes and shoes, all swirling in a tornado of gray and argyle. The clothes were soon clean and folded on the neatly-made bed, and shoes were soon polished and sitting neatly by the door. The dresser drawers closed neatly and the fallen pictures from the walls quickly flew back up to their proper place. The mirror went back from being out of kilter and the curtains neatly ironed themselves. All of the handprints that were once on the windows were clean. Ella was pleased with herself, and resigned to the closet—the one place in her house that she had magically expanded and fully made her own.
The closet was a near-perfect replica of her mother's walk-in closet, spacious and well-lit with a full-length mirror and plush carpeting. Her shoes were neatly organized by color, and her clothes were neatly organized by season first, and then color. It was organized so you could go clockwise around, starting naked and ending being clothed by the time you circled 'round to the door. Though her grandmother would say that Pride was a sin, Ella would say that vanity was one, too—and there wasn't a witch or wizard alive with even a touch of Christophe in them was sure to be swathed in it.
So what, though? A marble statue of a beautiful naked girl was created as a Goddess of beauty, once, intended for the male gaze; you stick a mirror in her hand and it's called Vanity. Suddenly, when a girl enjoys her own body, her own beauty, she's seen as sinful and wicked and vain. If that was so, Ella had long ago decided that she would be wicked and enjoy her beauty, for it was easily one of the most powerful weapons in her arsenal. Why not? If others were going to judge her by her appearance, she would use that. It was their fault for judging on the outside, anyway. Anything that happened to them as a result of their prejudice was surely not Ella's fault, now was it? She certainly felt beautiful, now, all naked and freshly loved, and she didn't see anything wrong with that at all.
Anyhow, she picked a pair of panties in a navy satin and slipped them up her thighs, and found the matching bra. Looking around at the various boxes that were just on the carpeted floor, she resolved that she needed to have shelves put in quite soon. Perhaps racks and shelves over here, and then move her vanity over there? Oh, but then she wouldn't have the natural light from the window if she kept the vanity in the main part of her bedroom… Oh well, back to getting dressed.
After some debate and wandering around her closet, she ended up choosing a nude dress that was just off the shoulder with a sort of Boho-gypsy silhouette. She wanted something slouchy yet elegant, so she styled it with a coral necklace and pretty sapphire ring on her right hand. She realized that now that she was with Neville, she could wear taller heels. Oh, walking with Draco in tow was fantastic, sure, but Neville dwarfed him easily. Ella could finally wear—dare she even think it—her three-inch Chanels! And just how perfect they'd look, she thought, with her ensemble… Slipping them on, she quickly pranced out to the mirror in the bedroom, which was a very nice silver-framed floor-length, and admired how she looked.
"My, but I am lovely," she said to herself, more than satisfied with her looks. A few twists of her wand and her long curls swept over to the side in a cascading waterfall, looking quite ideal. She quickly slinked into the bathroom, hearing Neville singing horrifically off-key through the steam. She tried not to laugh as she picked up her makeup bag and put on a few touches of taupe shadow on her eyelids, then lining with a charcoal eye pencil to play up her eyes' gorgeously exotic shape. A little mascara here, a pat of blush there…and a nice swipe of a shimmery coral lipstick to finish everything; a tap of her wand on her face would ensure her mascara wouldn't ever run, and she would just look like perfection today. Unfortunately, she couldn't stay in the bathroom for long because the steam was making her hair frizz. Even more unfortunately, the very second she stepped out of the bathroom she heard a whoosh downstairs.
"What the—?"
"Ella? Ella! Where are you?!"
Her mouth went dry and her buttocks clenched in panic at the voice coming from downstairs—Meme.
"Meme?" she called down, trying to sound as calm as possible. She walked out of the bedroom with an extremely false sense of ease and gently closed the door behind her. Don't panic. Don't fucking panic. For all she knows you're still a virgin. "Meme!" She happily called when she saw the brim of her black hat.
"Ella, ma petite fille!" Her arms came reaching and wrapping all around her in an embrace so tight that Ella felt her back pop. She quickly pulled away and placed her gloved hands on Ella's cheeks. "Are you alright? Are you 'urt?"
Ella didn't have to pretend to be confused. "What? No, I'm not hurt—why?"
A great sigh of relief came from the elegant—albiet overdramatic—Witch as she clutched her heart. Ella noticed what Meme was wearing, and it was her Battledress; a fitted black dress with a plunging V-neck and long sleeves which only accented her black opera gloves. Her stockings were nude, though, her shoes were the black alligator ones. A giant yellow diamond ring rested on her right hand. Ella wondered what made Meme put on her "I'm going to war" ensemble.
"Meme, what's going on?"
"Cher, I've 'eard ze news of what zat awful little rodent did to you! Zat pig! Cochon estupide!" She dramatically paced her library, taking up all the space in the room. "Zees scorn will not stand! Mais non! I am outraged!"
Ella genuinely had no clue what was going on at this point, so she simply waited at the library door frame, knowing that Meme would eventually circle around to what the actual point was. She likely would have been able to surmise what the point could have been on her own, but this was honestly the first time she'd worn a bra in the last 72 hours so her mind was admittedly elsewhere. She desperately hoped that Neville wouldn't come down the stairs wrapped in a towel, but if she kept calm and acted like nothing was wrong, then likely nothing would be wrong. Right?
"Ah, but 'ere I am, going on and on—alors—and I still 'ave not even said 'ello to you, ma cher." Meme opened her arms and Ella came into them with a reserved smile. Her grandmother kissed her cheeks, and her forehead. "I am so 'appy to see you, my love." She pulled away, her long arms still wrapped around Ella's waist. "And even more 'appy to know zat you are living 'ere." She then suddenly looked around at the creaky old house. "Alors, as in Europe, not necessarily 'ere…" Her grandmother then got quite the reclusive stance as she looked around at the dark colors on the wall, the old wallpaper, the tacky red carpet and creaky staircase.
"The house has good bones," Ella finally said. "Neville came over this morning to help me clean." Meme's eyebrow quirked. "No, Miss Dirty-mind," Ella chided in such a way that made her convincingly innocent. "Just cleaning. But I should warn you that he's upstairs taking a shower right now."
"Ella!" gasped her grandmother.
"What? He got all sweaty and I said I'd take him to lunch as a thank you! As if I'm taking a sweaty guy to lunch—ew!"
Ella must have made her case believable for her grandmother rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. "Alors, I'm glad zat you're bozs still getting along. I must say zat I much prefer 'im for you. I do still wish you would consider Percy Weasley."
Ella sort of cringed and then shrugged. "I mean, he's very nice, but he's shown pretty much zero interest in me, so…"
"Percy works, cherie, all ze time—you must give 'im a chance."
"If you like him so much why not just hire him to manage the hotels yourself? Why do I have to come in the package deal, too?"
Her grandmother took her gently by the chin and lowered her voice."I want to keep ze 'otels and casinos managed by family, my love. Surely, you can understand zat."
Both of Ella's hands came up and cupped her grandmother's in hopes that she would understand her genuine sincerity with her saying: "Meme, sil vous plait, I need somebody who needs me, d'accord? One thing at a time—a Coming Out party in a couple of years!"
"You don't want to 'ave it this year?"
She shook her head. "No, you're not really supposed to have one until you're nineteen or twenty, anyway. Besides, I'm really enjoying being eighteen right now; and this way I get to still date Neville for a while without it having to get serious."
Meme sighed and squeezed her granddaughter's hand gently. She then cupped her freckled cheek and smiled with a shake of her head. "You were always in such a 'urry to grow up. Now zat you 'ave, you want to stay eighteen forever." She sighed through her nose. "I don't think I've told you just 'ow proud I am of you. And if your Maman were alive today, I know she would be just glowing wiz pride." Ella couldn't help but blush and tear up. "Graduating top of your class, 'ead Girl of Slyzerin, and everything wiz ze War and all zat you did... Oh, Ella, I'm so proud to call you my granddaughter."
Beaming, Ella threw herself into her grandmother's arms and hugged her just as tight as she could. She felt a kiss on the top of her head, and a single tear came down her cheek, as if all the bile and frozen wasteland that was once her heart were slowly melting through her eyes.
"You mean you're not mad about all the stuff I said for my acceptance speech?"
A sharp "hah" came from Meme's throat as she threw her head back. "Non non! I thought it was 'ilarious—and true. And I know you meant every word… Frankly, I think zey needed to 'ear somezing like zat."
A sharp "hah" came from Ella this time, followed by a big smile and a giggle. Meme looked around at her house again. Her grandmother clearly was holding quite a bit back; Ella was certain she'd find her new house hideous to the point of evacuating her immediately and quarantining her in Monaco. However, her motives were to keep her in Europe, so she simply smiled and complied with anything Ella seemed to want.
"Alors…" Her grandmother went silent, scanning the house. "Neville certainly did a good job cleaning…I assume." Her voice cracked. Ella laughed.
"You should have seen it before we cleaned. I've already gotten my things unpacked and I'm definitely going to redo the floors. The walls have to be painted, of course, and the kitchen's a complete disaster…but I really do like it. It's mine. My name is on the deed."
Meme was trying so hard to be supportive of that dinky little house that it was almost comical. Finally, she said "I'm going to send you Antoine in ze morning."
Ella's eyes widened in shock. Antoine was Meme's personal interior designer, responsible for Hotel Sirene and their line of casino cruise ships, as well as her penthouse. He was brilliant, of course, and a fiery flaming homosexual to boot—but he was also the only person Ella could think of being even marginally more insufferable than Fleur. "Are you sure? He won't think this is beneath him or anything?"
"Nonsense! I need to get you a graduation present, any'ow. I'll 'ave 'im come tomorrow, say….ten o' clock?"
The young witch managed a smile, even if it was somewhat forced. "Alright. I'll be here."
"My good girl," said Meme as she kissed Ella on the forehead. "Where are you planning on going to lunch?"
"I don't know, we hadn't decided yet."
Her grandmother wrinkled her nose a bit in thought and then nodded, opened her black clutch, and handed Ella a golden skeleton key. "Take 'im to ze River Club. I'll let zem know you are coming."
"Are you sure?"
Meme shrugged. "Why not? If 'e is going to be involved wiz you, 'e should learn to get along wiz your crowd. Besides, Neville is a Pureblooded Wizard; 'e will be more than welcome."
Ella took the key with a smile. "Alright. I haven't been there in a while, anyhow." She suddenly remembered that her grandmother was wearing her Battledress, which seemed almost immediately absurd because she was standing right in front of her. "Are you going to tell me what you were talking about earlier?" Meme gave a questioning frown. "You know, about 'zat foul little wrodent?'"
"Bah! I would 'ave you never think of 'im again—zat entire family iz a bloody menace. Zey should all be locked up—!"
"Wha—wait, do you mean Draco?!"
"Spreading those foul rumors about you! 'ow dare zey 'ave your blood purity questioned! And zen throwing you to ze Death Eaters! Outrageous!"
Ella's mind raced as her grandmother went on a very long and convoluted rant—everything seemed such a blur over the last few months that she had nearly forgotten(or possibly blocked out) the entire Battle of Hogwarts. She suddenly became rather faint and overcome with a somewhat flashback of Draco's heartbroken face as he took her by the arm and lead her to Voldemort.
Draco… He was certainly not innocent in this, and frankly Ella could kill him, but she couldn't just state that aloud since she knew more than what was at face value. But could she tell her grandmother? How would it look if Ella defended him? Would she be disowned? Disinherited? Did her grandmother just come from Malfoy Manor in her Battledress?! Oh, God, what did she do—did she turn them into slugs? Did she just murder somebody? Who of the Malfoys did she murder? Oh, God, was it Draco? He was a coward, sure, but he certainly didn't deserve to be murdered. How did she get blood out of her clothes if that was the case? Surely her rage is more the type that she'd cast some sort of blood-gush-causing spell, and not a simple Killing Curse, especially since she knew Meme wasn't planning on going to Azkaban anytime soon… But if there was blood, is that why Meme's Battledress was black? Did she use the Tergeo charm? Oh my God—is Neville still in the shower?!
"Meme did you just kill somebody?" Ella blurted in the middle of her grandmother's rant.
Every the Frenchwoman, she snorted arrogantly through her nose and threw her head high. "As if zose pests are even worth it! I just 'ope zat you can rest easy tonight knowing zat pig will never come near you again."
"Uh…" She genuinely didn't know what to say, as she was still a bit disoriented from having both feet on the floor for the first time in several days, but like a good Slytherin girl she simply nodded and chose to stay fairly quiet until she knew more information about the entire thing. She couldn't say that she was going to easily forgive and forget, but this entire reaction did seem a bit delayed. After all, the Battle of Hogwarts had been at least a month ago; and from whom did her grandmother hear what Draco did to her? Oh, God, was it Hermione? That loud-mouth... Well, at least her grandmother hadn't killed anybody, yet… "I don't know what to say."
"You don't 'ave to say anyszing, ma cher. Just know zat I love you and your Meme will stop at noszing to ensure my precious girl's 'appiness." She bent at the waist and kissed Ella on the forehead. "Tell young Neville I said 'ello, and enjoy ze River Club."
Ella smiled, not knowing what quite else to do. "Yeah, okay. I love you."
"I love you, too, cher. I'll see you Sunday for church." Meme flicked her wand around and, in a tornado of sparkling white dust, she was gone. Was Apparating easier? It was likely. Was it as flashy and appropriate for Helene Christophe? Nope.
The young witch looked down at the golden key in her hand. The River Club was not the oldest private club for affluent witches and wizards, but it certainly was the most-exclusive. It was a fabulously grandiose restaurant that was on a magically hidden island in the middle of the river Thames, and you could only get in by using that key on a hidden keyhole on just the right brick on Tower Bridge. This lead you to an underwater tunnel that lead you to the island, upon which was the club. It was hidden in broad daylight, and that's why it was so perfectly discreet. You had to really be somebody to get into the River Club, and the Christophes were just that somebody.
Puffing her bangs up off her forehead, Ella walked upstairs to see if Neville was finished showering. When she opened the door to the bathroom, however, she noticed that the water was turned off but Neville was nowhere to be found. Quirking an eyebrow, she quietly walked to the shower curtain and slowly peeked behind, to find her boyfriend curled in a wet and hairy ball in the bottom of the tub.
"Neville, what are you doing?"
He gave a tiny shriek and looked up, covering as much of himself with his hands as possible. He gave her a very nervous and very questioning look. "Is..." he whispered. "Is your grandmother...?"
Ella shook her head with a smile. "No, she's gone." The lanky Gryffindor gave a large sigh of relief and stood to his full, glorious height. "Get dressed, okay?" said she, her eyes wandering up and down his body, all long and healthy. "We're going to The River Club." She handed him a towel. Neville grinned and dried himself off.
"I've never heard of that place," he remarked, stepping out of the shower.
Nodding, Ella said "That's just the way they like it."
So. I'm really sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this. I know that I do have a few yet mighty following, and that HeartofAspen has been reviewing and reading faithfully. I owe it to you guys to continue. Keep reading! It's getting interesting and it's going to get a lot more convoluted from this point on, I promise.
Thanks again! Enjoy!