Please read the notes before you read the chapter. There is a British slang term in this section that will seem really strange and out of place if you don't know what it means.
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How High the Moon
.ψ.
Chapter Seven: The Dragon's Teeth
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…When I look behind me
You stand there sizzling in summer rains
Your eyes are tracing maps
Underneath my boiling veins
And I feel that I'm on …
Fire, Fire, Fire,
Drilling underneath my skin,
Fire, Fire, Fire,
Little embers deep within...
-'Anatomy of Fire'
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The evening passed Charlie by in a daze.
He took his tea out on the front porch, in the swing Harry'd been keeping warm. It wasn't so much that he was in shock as that he was embarrassed to go inside and face his friend.
How had he not figured it out?
After all, a bloke ought to know who his friends' sisters are, shouldn't he?
So Charlie pretended to feel a bit ill, and despite the attempts of the better half of the order he staunchly held his ground outside, away from Stella and further embarrassment. Nothing could lure him into the house. Not his mother's shrill concern. Not Harry looking at him like he'd lost his marbles. Not Mad-Eye jabbing him with his wand and accusing him of being Impperio'ed.
In fact, he hardly even batted an eye when Fred and George ran out of the house at sunset with their heads on fire, screaming bloody murder.
Alright, that did shock him a little, but not as much as it would most people. You got used to some pretty buggered occurrences after so many years of living with those two. Come to think of it, they'd probably done this to themselves at one point or another just by virtue of being Fred and George, he mused as he watched the fun.
"Gerit off me!" George was flailing at the flames in his hair with one of Mrs. Tonks's good linen napkins. At least, Charlie thought it was George. Sometimes it was hard to tell, even for him.
"I'm trying to get it of meself, you wanker!" Howled Fred as he dunked his head in a nearby bird bath. Unfortunately, the added water only made the fire increase and change from orange to bright blue.
Obviously, Stella had decided to get Charlie's attention.
He didn't even have to turn around to know that she was standing in the screen door watching him.
"Told ya it was a perfect plan."
Yep, it was Stella alright. She had her arms crossed over her little chest and a smug I-told-you-so smirk from ear to ear.
"You should probably put them out before Mum figures out what's going on." He said halfheartedly.
"Yeah. Probably."
That was the end of the conversation for a few minutes as they both enjoyed watching the joint owners of the world's newest wildly successful joke shop try to extinguish the prank of two real masters. Fred badly botched a fire reduction charm, only to have his head engulfed in flames nearly as tall as he was. George's freezing spell earned him grass green sparks.
It was kind of pathetic really.
"Poor little sods. I suppose I oughta douse it, huh gatito?"
"You think my Mum's coming then?"
"More than likely."
She quietly said the countercharm, and his little brothers fell panting to the grass. Their hair was barely singed but they looked absolutely hilarious. He'd never let them live this one down, that was for sure.
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley burst though the screen door and demanded to know what was going on, looking like an angry dragon on the charge. Charlie pulled his weight as big brother and shot the twins a menacing glare. Stella didn't need any more trouble with his mum.
It was a good thing that the time he spent away from home didn't affect his older-sibling authoritativeness.
"We're fine mum."
"Just trying out the latest upcoming product for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."
"Oh really?" She sounded cynical.
"Right!" Fred said brightly. "Hellfire Hair Gel. 13 sickles a pop. They'll be flying off the shelves."
A little too brightly.
Once the much beloved dragon lady had stalked off in search of other nests to defend, Charlie and Stella were pounced upon.
"What was that all about?"
"What did we ever do to you?"
"Well, first you were born…" Charlie couldn't help himself.
"Oh honestly. I thought you two might like to learn a thing or two from true artists." Stella said with her trademark grin. "You of all people should be able to recognize art when you see it. I mean, you don't have anything on Charlie and me, but you are pretty decent, if I do say so myself."
"Artists? More like piss artists, I say."
"Well said Fred." Added George.
"Now boys, I'm insulted. After all, I didn't tell your mother about that rude trick you pulled with the scones. Then you go off an hurt a girl's sensitive feelings? Kids these days, I tell you Charlie."
"What now, you're covering for us?" Fred was dead indignant. "We should have snitched on you! You're the ones who set our bloody heads on fire!"
"What's your point?" Asked Stella. She was staring at her nails, pretending to be bored. Charlie knew her better. She was up to something, he just wasn't sure what.
"My point is, you should be grateful that all we ask in return for our silence is the recipe behind whatever you just did to us." Charlie should have known. His kid brothers could steal the fur off a kneazle, and in the end they'd probably have the poor little thing willing to pay them to do it too.
"Give you the fruit of our toils? The sweat of our brows?" Yes, Stella was definitely up to something. "Charlie, do you hear this? Such impertinence in the youth today! What is the world coming to, I ask you?"
"Madness, Stella. Utter madness."
"Right you are, Charlie." She smiled at him, one of those beautiful toothy little smiles that radiates light like the sun, and for a second the rest of the world was gone. If only he could figure out how to employ those lips in other activities, preferably activities that involved a broom cupboard … "But don't call me that, you ass!"
"Never dream of it."
Satisfied, she turned back to his brothers. "You are ungrateful wretches."
"Rubbish."
"Utter rubbish"
"You're mad."
"If you rude little hooligans want to keep your skins in one piece, you should listen to my offer." She said silkily.
"What'd you mean, in one piece?"
"If Moody gets wind of what that scone did to him all during tea … well, him being such a trusting character to begin with, and all."
"All right! What are your terms, woman?"
"Eighty percent of all gross profits from the product, and any products devised using my base formulas, as well as packaging under my own label."
"EIGHTY PERCENT! You ARE mad!"
"Your own label? I thought Charlie was part of this!"
"I can't set fire to split wood, you dolts. Anything pyrotechnic is hers."
"Well, a joint label then. Charlie does come up with some pretty brilliant stuff on occasion. How about … Dragon's Teeth: Jokes of Mythic Proportions." She drew her hands in an arc over her head as she spoke, displaying the title on an imaginary billboard.
Charlie really didn't pay much attention to the final details of the haggling. He was more concerned about talking to her when they were alone again. How was he supposed to explain the fact that he'd never thought to ask anyone here in England if they knew her? Would she think he didn't care?
All too soon, the little gits were gone and it was just him and Stella on the porch as the sun went down. He was nervous as hell and couldn't help but wonder if some how she had known what the twins would do. As usual, Stella hadn't the faintest clue about what was going on in his head and was waiting for him to say something.
"So … Dragon's Teeth, huh?"
"I got it from a myth about … never mind, I just thought it was funny."
He would have liked to have been consulted, but she did make a point of including him in the rather lucrative little deal she milked out of his spend thrift siblings, so Charlie let it pass.
"Thanks for counting me in on the action."
"I couldn't cut my favorite partner in crime out of the picture." She graced him with another one of those happy little smiles of hers, and his head started to feel foggy.
Stella, unaware as usual, continued on without a hitch. "Besides, I figured we might as well get something done this summer. You know, besides helping The-Fat-Headed-Overly-Pompous-One defeat you-know-who. And it's not like you don't need the cash, Mr. I'm-going-to-quit-the-job-I-adore-and-haven't-got-a-snowball's-chance-in-Hell-of-getting-back, just-so-I can-help-the-Order."
"You found out about that." He stated more than questioned. Damn it. He told them not to release news of his leaving until they couldn't avoid it anymore. What had happened?
"Is a toad's ass yellow? Of course I know!" She huffed. "I wish you would have told me."
"I don't want to talk about it." His mind was racing. How did she figure stuff like this out?
"Fine."
"Fine."
There were several minutes of deadly silence while the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, right along with the dreadful feeling in his gut. If she didn't say something soon, Charlie was going to burst. At long, bloody uncomfortable last he was startled by the sound of a lingering, irritated sigh.
"You're hard to stay mad at." She grunted in his direction without glancing his way, looking very put out.
A thousand pounds fell off his shoulders. She'd forgiven him, brilliant! Now all he had to do was get her mind on something else and she'd forget all about it.
"So … did you plan that whole thing? The hair … the independent label?"
"Why Charlie, whatever do you mean?" What a terrible liar.
"Well, usually you're pretty oblivious to the way other people think. But today, I think you knew exactly what would happen minute by minute once you set them on fire.
"You know gatito, just because I don't bother to be observant every second of every day doesn't mean I can't be when the time calls for it." She had a fond look on her face as she gazed off into the green hills.
He didn't know quite what to say to that. It had never occurred to him that she was anything but what she seemed.
A hint of pride crept into her voice as she continued. "I can plot and scheme with the best of them when I put my mind to it. They put me in Slytherin for a reason, after all."
WHAT?
Charlie tried hard not to gape. Slytherin? Archenemy of all that was good and decent? Mean, crude, decidedly nasty Slytherin? Underhanded bastards and awful cheaters extraordinaire?
SLYTHERIN?
He felt an undeniable urge to sick up.
Even Durmstang would have been better!
This couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake. It was just some utterly stupid cosmic joke or something, right? This was silly, funny, warm smile Stella, not some double crossing dark witch! She couldn't be a Slytherin!
Stella still had her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees as she looked out across the vast expanse of crimson sky, blissfully ignorant of his loathing.
"Course, that bloody oik of a hat was a real ponce about the whole affair. Had to argue with the damn thing for nearly three hours before it gave over. Everyone gave me hell for holding up the feast, and then Dumbledore just eyed me up with that weird little twinkle in his eyes and told me that I had set a new school record. 'My dear Miss Estrella, I don't believe I have ever seen an individual hold out so long against so formidable a foe. Ten points to Slytherin for incorruptible determination.' Barmy old badger, but I guess he grew on me after a while."
Stella's impersonation of the late headmaster was uncannily accurate, but Charlie was far too lost in his own emotions to care.
At least this solved the puzzle about why he'd never seen her at Hogwarts, he thought glumly. He'd never seen her because he wouldn't have willingly set foot within a mile of those slimy gits for all the gold in Gringots. Charlie Weasley wouldn't go near one of those greasy, self important, pure blood maniacs with a ten foot broomstick.
But this was Stella.
Unfortunately, he couldn't deny what she said.
He himself remembered the night she was talking about. He had been so anxious about his own turn at the sorting hat that the three hour reprieve had seemed like a divine gift and a hellish curse all rolled into one. It had meant that he hadn't had to get sorted right away, but after three hours still stuck in the E's, he had known that it was only delaying the inevitable. Somehow in the confusion and happy frenzy of his first year, he had forgotten all about that tiny, frail little witch who looked like an under ripe vegetable. Her skin was less pale now, and her form had filled out, but when he squinted hard he could still see that girl sitting on the sorting stool like a stone growing moss with an angry glare on her face.
And when she snapped him back into reality, she still had that glare on her face.
"Charlie? Charlie Weasley, are you listening to me?"
Again, Stella found him rather speechless.
"I … I uh …" What was he supposed to say? Sorry, I don't really care for you now that I know you're a lying backstabber?
It must have showed on his face, because her unnervingly perceptive streak continued.
"You know Charlie," She said in a low, almost dangerous voice, "Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean I'm evil."
This was creepy. Stella never took that tone, not with anyone. If she was angry, she always let you know in a hurry. What was she on about?
"I never said you …"
"You don't have to!" Stella cut him off at full volume, shrieking and red in the face. "I can see it in the way you looked at me when I said it! God damn it Charlie, I thought that you of all people, you would accept me. Look where hoping gets you. Nowhere, that's where!"
"Uh…"
"Fine then Charlie Weasley, I don't need you anyway!" She screamed, absolutely irate.
The screen door slammed behind her with enough force to crush a bloke's skull into a thousand very tiny, unhappy pieces.
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Authoress's Notes: Piss artist is a British slang term for a drunk person. The musical clip at the beginning is an excerpt from one of the songs I've written.
The nickname 'dragon lady' has a rather funny basis in real life. My dad, my brother and I have a running joke about my mum, who (not unlike our beloved Mrs. W) has a tendency to become err… shrill … when agitated. When we were little and just learning to talk, my dad taught us to call her dragon lady because of this tendency. We, being innocent toddlers, did so. Years of humor and jokes at her expense followed.
In the past, people have told me that I'm rather good at suspense and that my plot twists are exceedingly twisty. Some people like this about my work, and others don't. (Sorry, to those who don't, but I do this for my own amusement after all and I'm easily bored) It has always been a bit of an anomaly when a reviewer makes a correct assumption about my twisty twistyness. I sometimes joke that these rare individuals deserve a prize.
In this playful spirit, I'm implementing a little game for reviewers from here on out. Points get awarded to anyone who makes any acurate (non obvious) predictions that are right. And points to those who reveiw, even if they don't play, because I love them. Obviously, I'll dish out points for those who have already been reviewing. Maybe at the end I'll write a short request piece for the winner. What do ya'll out in readerland think of this? Good, bad, ugly? Leme know your opinion.
Possum (7 pts so far. Six reviews, extra point for recommending a great author.)- It is wild, isn't it? I do have my occasional moments of genius. (Basks in the light of her momentary intelligence) Maybe, if you're really really good, and you brush your teeth and eat your vegetables, I'll give you a little more info on that legendary game … and why Moody'l never play keeper again…
Fenix (9 pts so far. Seven reviews, extra points for help with my Spanish translation and corrections on my mythological information )-Yes, I'm rather fond of Harry meself. If Ginny didn't have him wrapped around her little freckly finger … well, she does, so that's the end of that, but a girl can dream can't she? Aren't all men clueless? (We love them anyways though.) I'm tickled pink that you found it so funny. Perhaps I'll have to have more interaction between them.
HPM (8 pts so far. Six reviews, extra points for rereading the books and putting me in a C2. What a sweetheart) - Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. Yep, they are sisters … and other things. That wasn't just an off the cuff decision, either. Tonks and Stella being sisters has been part of her character since I first started planning this story. And here's a hint: there are more surprises to come dealing with Stella's family and friends… dun dun da! As for the fic title, please take a look at the Authoress's notes for chapter one, I edited them when I changed the title and they give the lyrics behind it and hint at the larger plot.