How High the Moon
.ψ.
Chapter Fifteen: Boom
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…My
heart goes Boum Boum Boum
Every time I
think of you
I feel that Boum
Boum Boum
No control of
what I'll do
Simplicity,
complexity, oh what a tragedy
Reality,
insanity, strange normality
Incredible,
untouchable, but just visual
And I want you,
just you but natural…
-'Boum Boum Boum', Enigma
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"…there have been no further developments in mission seeker, despite the efforts of…" Remus Lupin droned on.
Charlie finally understood how that bald child in the telly felt when adults spoke to him.
"…communicating with members abroad … muah … muah muah mauh … owls intercepted by unknown … muah muah …"
Ironic that the little boy's name was also Charlie.
"… muah muah …"
How could anyone keep their mind on something so boring when it was so beautiful outdoors? The darkness of the dining room and the stiff backed chair were not helping at all.
" … muah muah muah …"
At first he had hoped that having a girlfriend would make these meetings more bearable. Someone to talk to or at least someone to poke him if he started to snore. But this notion was soon crushed. Instead of being a shoulder to lean on when he was dozing off, Stella either joined in on her friends' gossip or paid rapt attention to whoever was speaking.
Today was gossip, and they'd been at it all morning.
"… Oh, but did you see him?" Stasia Mackay giggled quietly a few seats down the row, avoiding Lupin's eyes.
"Mmm. Yeah, he's quite the looker, in't he?" Tonks wobbled on her chair; her hair changed from green to orange.
"… muah muah muah …"
Stella's soft brown robes shifted next to him as she smiled. "He does have pretty eyes."
What was she doing looking at other bloke's eyes?
"What do you think, Jaci?"
The tiny girl in question turned more and more pink, adjusting her enormous square spectacles. "I … well, he's um … nice."
"Nice? Oh, he's a dream!" He wished Stasia would stop squealing. These meetings were bad enough the way it was.
"You say that about every man you meet."
"So?"
"Come on, Jaci, she's got a bit of a point."
"That idiot couldn't charm shit to fly out his ass. Now shut up and listen." The fifth voice joined in; biting, crisp and clean as a freshly sharpened kitchen knife.
Fish face really reminded him a lot of a little girl named Lucy on the Charlie Brown kartune, only more caustic and cold. Ice and steel were softer and warmer than a girl like that. He couldn't understand why Stella liked her so much. Then again, he couldn't help but draw parallels between the dark haired girl in the telly and his own dark haired girl. They were both determined and rude and full of female insanity. He smiled down at the top of her head, eager to get out of the dark dining room and spring his surprise on her.
The meeting wasn't over soon enough.
.ψ.
"I'm not going to peek, you ass. Just take me wherever it is you're taking me." She looked about ready to bite him, so Charlie grabbed the basket and nudged the screen door open, enjoying the warm afternoon sun that flooded the garden. A brisk fall breeze brushed his face when he took her hand.
As he started to lead her down a path Tonks had informed him about the other day, Charlie looked back at Stella and thought of how different his life was becoming with her in it. Three months ago, he never would have guessed that he would be here today, leading a blindfolded girl off to a romantic picnic near the house where she grew up. Charlie Weasley did not do romantic picnics. Charlie Weasley did not take the time to ask his girlfriends' crazy sisters about their favorite places. And Charlie Weasley did not cook health food.
But somehow here he was.
It wasn't like he had woken up one morning and decided to become some sort of Romeo. No thank you! He didn't have the first idea about romance. He wasn't Bill. It had just seemed like a good idea, this picnic, especially since women tended to be very picky about anniversaries.
He looked back at her again and sighed, wishing that their time together had been less confusing, but grateful for it none the less.
These past few weeks had been just as golden as the trees, if a little frustrating. Even Bill's advice didn't always work with Stella. It was very odd. Every other girl he'd dated in the past had been very fond of 'snuggling' as they tended to put it in their girly terms. Most of them tended to be very impressed by his shoulders and his burn scars and his stories about Romania.
But not Stella.
Stella had seen hundreds of scars and thousands of shoulders. Stella had been to Romania and had her own stories. Stella did not use words like 'snuggle', nor did she engage in the activity itself.
She seemed to like snogging well enough, but when their lips weren't otherwise engaged she really didn't seem to care for being held. It was like she was two different people, one eager and playful, one friendly but a bit physically distant. She was still the same old bright, cheerful Stella who hugged everyone –even crotchety old Mad-Eye Moody, a feat that would get most people killed- She just didn't like to be held. Charlie found this incredibly confusing.
His frequent visits to the ugly tartan couch had continued with happy frequency. Unless he or Stella was working or she had 'something to do', he was there. But unless there was lip lock or she was asleep, brief hugs were about all the physical contact he got. Charlie wasn't an unusually needy guy, and he wasn't crazy about women who hung onto their boyfriends like lethifolds, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing … just very … unsettling. It felt sort of inherently wrong that such an exuberant person as Stella would not care for the same sort of 'cuddling' that so many other, less affectionate girls did.
Was he doing something wrong?
His thoughts were interrupted when she tripped and fell against him like a rock. "You alright Stella?"
"Don't call me that."
"Call you what, luv?"
She mumbled something that would have seen his mum having kittens. "I tell you once, I tell you a hundred times! My name is Myra. Myra! Not luv, not Stella, just Myra. You can remember this, yes?"
"Sure, I remember. It's just more fun this way." He grinned, knowing she couldn't see him.
"Grahhh!" She bellowed in frustration. "I'm going to skewer you with your own wand, you gutless, beetle-eyed…"
He snatched off the blindfold and in a fit of unexpected courage, leaned in to whisper: "You were saying?"
"…you … beautiful man." Brilliant! Charlie was willing to bet that she wasn't thinking about any other bloke's eyes right now!
Her smile became a grin, and she threw a pair of happy arms around him. "This is the surprise? A picnic?"
"A little bird told me you liked it out here." He gestured to the meadow in front of them, a low bowl of fading greens and soft browns, surrounded by little thickets of trees. Charlie had wanted to do this for weeks now, but the weather and both their schedules had been disrupting his plans.
"A little pig, you mean?" She asked with her twinkling eyes and tapped her nose. "Nyms has a big mouth."
"It must run in the family."
She rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing that you can do more useful things with those lips, or I wouldn't keep you around. So what's in the basket?"
"Why should I tell you?" Charlie inquired while rolling out an old blanket over a tramped down patch of dead grass, hoping to get a kiss out of the deal.
"I won't kill you for insulting me." She tried to be straight-faced.
"Where did you get that morbid sense of humor?"
"Just produce the food before you find out first hand, you ass. Ooo! You brought broccoli! You are a superb example of a human being, Charlie Weasley!" With that, she proceeded to attack the picnic.
They ate happily for a while, enjoying the warm, golden weather and occasionally cracking jokes. It was nice to just lay there with her and watch the clouds. He hadn't been sure if what he packed would be appropriate, since he hadn't been on a picnic since he was twelve and all he remembered about it was that Fred and George had buried Percy in an anthill, but Stella assured him that all was well.
"I don't think I've ever been on such a nice picnic." She kissed him on the cheek, and he wished for the thousandth time that afternoon that Stella would let him hold her. It would be so nice to just sit there with her in his arms and watch the falling leaves that rustled in the wind, enjoy the simple contentment of her leaning up against him.
Charlie was so deep in thought that he almost didn't see the other thing that was rustling in between the trees: a small, skinny bird with puny wings. He recognized it immediately as Fred's baby Diricawl. The kid liked animals almost as much as he did, so 'Frankie' had been one of the first things Fred had bought once Triple W started to soar.
A sinking feeling wormed its way into Charlie's gut but he said nothing, hoping the little grey creature would stay where it was.
It didn't.
"Sodding bird! Come back here with that!" She started to go after the little guy to retrieve her broccoli. There was a sudden but quiet 'boom', and the bird was gone in a tiny cloud of feathers.
"He's long gone by now." Charlie chuckled and picked at a piece of dead grass. He didn't want her to kill the poor little thing, even if Fred was teaching it naughty tricks. "Besides, I thought you liked birds."
"They make me sneeze. They steal my food. What is supposed to make me so fond of them? Bloody annoying, not to mention disgusting."
"Well, you keep a couple of them at the flat. I figured you liked them. Why else would you keep them?"
"They're not mine, messy little buggers. No thank you. I have enough fun with Quex. The rest of the menagerie in that apartment is due to the joy of having a flatmate."
"A flatmate? You never told me you had a flatmate. Why haven't I ever seen her?" He wondered nervously if the flatmate was a him. Was Stella hiding another boyfriend?
She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"No, I guess you haven't, have you? Moi's almost never home though, so that's probably why. Those sods down at Mungo's work her to the bone and she really just comes back to eat and sleep these days. Sometimes she doesn't even do that." There was bitterness in her voice, but he had bigger things on his mind.
"Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You live with Fish-face?"
"Just until I have the time to finish the place and start renting it out. Can't afford the bills without her before then. And don't call her that! I mean it, Charlie." Stella made a very threatening gesture. "She's one of my best friends."
"Do you mean to tell me that we've been snogging in the same house as … we've been … while she's been sleeping?" He found it difficult to choke it out.
"Don't worry, Charlie, I told her not to make any noise when she peeks."
"You … you can't be serious!"
"Oh, close your jaw gatito. You'll collect flies if you leave it open like that." She patted his cheek. "Don't worry. I told her to steer completely clear of the basement at all times so that we have some privacy. Have you no faith in me at all?"
"I … well … it's hard to tell sometimes! Don't scare me like that again!"
"Aww, but you look so cute when you're flabbergasted." She complained with that bright smile he loved plastered all over her face.
"Hey! I am not 'cute'!" Charlie was very offended. Little kids were cute. Bunnies were cute. He was not 'cute'.
"Mmm, you're cute to me." She said with a grin and pulled him over for a kiss on the cheek.
One thing soon lead to another, and one kiss became much more. It was a thoroughly successful round of snogging, in fact. He was allowed to hold and touch and investigate several things that were usually classified in the 'don't-you-dare-if-you-value-your-ability-to-spawn' category. The last few weeks had not dulled his curiosity about her body one iota.
After all, he was a scientist at heart and it's an established fact that scientists live for the thrill of discovery.
Everything was looking up until his elbow slipped in something decidedly squishy. The kiss was instantly broken. He heard Stella snort and looked down to see a slice of gorgeous strawberry pie hopelessly smeared all over his arm.
Stella threw her head back and started laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks and she grabbed her sides. Charlie glared at her, which her start giggling all over again.
"Oh … oh gatito! The … ha ha! … the look on your face!"
It took a while for Stella to stop cackling and saying that he looked like Mad-Eye with a stick up his arse. When she finally left off with taking the mickey out of him, they went back to cloud watching, side by side on the old wool blanket.
"That one's a cactus." She pointed.
"Baby Ridgeback."
"Lunascope."
"Nah, an egg. Definitely a dragon egg."
"Do you ever think about anything besides dragons?"
"Eating. Breathing. Quidditch." You, he added silently, not really knowing why he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. "It's just part of me, you know? I'm gonna miss playing after meetings now that they …"
She didn't have to ask. When they left without telling anyone except Stella, Tonks, Charlie, and a few of their school friends, those who were in the know had made an unspoken pact never to mention the information they were privy to, especially around Lupin or Charlie's mum.
"Did they say anything to you?" She said quietly, staring at the cold blue sky.
"Something about Hogwarts."
"Yeah, that was about all I got out of them too." Her voice was soft and far away, but after a bit of silence she chuckled sternly. "I hope they can manage to keep themselves in one piece this time. Made the little buggers promise not to do anything as abysmally daft as taking on fourteen dementors again. Honestly, I might just let em suffer a little next time they go off thrill seeking and come back crying."
"Suffer?" Charlie propped himself up to look at her.
"Oh I don't mean I won't heal them, you ass. I'll just make sure they learn their lesson."
"That sounds a bit … cruel, don't you think?"
"No. Sometimes pain is the best teacher. Pain and experience." A ghost of something passed over her, but it was gone in an instant. "I want them to figure out that they can't just burst in and play hero without thinking."
"Stella! What are you saying, girl? You can't just let people hurt to make them do what you want!"
"Sure you can." She said with a stubborn sort of flippancy, as though he were being foolish. "You just have to be open to using all your options. I am going to get through to them, and I'll do it by any means necessary. When I want something, I get it."
Her words made him nauseous, and Charlie wished he hadn't asked. It made her sound so … Slytherin.
"Besides, the less mangled limbs of theirs I have to deal with, the more time I'll have for research. And for late night telly, of course." She added with a smile.
"Mmm. He laid back and watched the sparse clouds roll past, trying to ignore the facts about her that he didn't like as uneasy silence hung between them. Focus on the good things, Charlie. Think about the positive. "So … why did you become a healer anyway?"
He heard a great whoosh of air pass her lips, and turned his head just enough to see her shoulders hunched and her eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.
"I dunno." She shrugged. "It was my best subject at school." He began to feel her slipping into 'I-don't-want-to-talk-about-my-past' territory, and decided that he was going to go ahead anyway for once. They were seeing each other now. He had a right to know a little at least!
"Really? I would have figured charms or history."
"Oh, right … I guess I probably did get better marks in those, but ... well, with charms it was more hard studying than real skill, because I was fond of Flitzy, and history's more of a hobby than a profession. I really had no idea what I was going to do, even after my career advisory meeting with Professor Snape."
"But Madame Pomfrey, she said I was good, told me I had what it takes. It meant a lot, her telling me." Light danced in her eyes. "It was so thrilling, to really hear someone say that! Myra, you're good at this! Myra, you've got it! I just can't explain it."
"And I guess I just wanted to … to help. Felt like I had a … a … a responsibility … to help, no?" The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly in a faint, odd little smile as she stared off into the setting sun. He wished that he knew why she did that, whished he knew what she was thinking about that made that smile look almost sad. "When I die, I want to look back know that I left something good here, that I atoned a little and made a few people smile. That'd be alright, you know?"
He rolled over to ask her what she meant about 'atoning', just in time to hear a little boom and see another bunch of feathers fall of top of the plate where the radishes used to be.
"Bloody bird! I swear, I'm going to get Ted to teach me how to shoot first thing in the morning!"
"Shoot what?"
"He has this old gun in the back closet. Sometimes he goes hunting with Mr. MacFarlan."
"Gun?" He'd heard about the muggle killing-wands before, but he'd never seen one. The idea of an angry Stella with her hands on one made him nervous. "Err, how about we find something else to do instead?"
She gave him an irritated grimace. "I can't think of many things I'd rather be doing than killing that satanic blob of feathers."
"I dunno." He reached over to brush her cheek with the tough, scarred tips of his fingers and lowered his voice, leaning closer. "I can think of one thing we'd both rather be doing."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You have a one track mind, gatito."
"And you wouldn't have it any other way."
Stella opened her mouth to reply, but somehow never got around to finishing the thought.
.ψ.
It was a chilly, soggy night a few days later. The pavement was dirty and the stars were obscured by brazen signs glaring rudely from their perches. Muggles walked right by him, sauntered past him, danced around him, unaware of who he was or the world he belonged to, many in varying stages of drunkenness. But blustery winds chilled them all, magic and muggle just the same.
Charlie let the icy fingers tug at his cloak and toy with the new fastenings his mum had sewn on a few weeks ago, not minding that the weather was far too cold for mid-September. It would have better fit November with its dreary monotone drizzling and whispered promises of frost, the sort of night that made him homesick inside. He wasn't pining for the burrow (though that would always be home to him in some sense or another) but for Romania and Wallachia. For the stark majesty of Kostya's Peak. For the high, familiar tune of Norwegian Ridgebacks crooning to their mates.
His own mate was not nearly as tolerant of the conditions as he was. Charlie chuckled softly as he watched her hurry down the back alley towards him like a cat getting out of the rain, muttering under her breath about the cold and the rain.
Charlie found it surprising that he had thought of her as a mate. They weren't exactly a pair-bonded set like two Ridgeys. In fact, as the mate in question got closer he had a sneaking suspicion that it was a bit more like the relationship between mating Peruvian Vipertooths, where the more aggressive females often killed and consumed their mates once the eggs were fertilized.
Not that there had been any fertilization between Stella and him.
Odd as it sounded in his own head, he actually didn't mind not having 'mixed the potion'. Not that he didn't want to, of course. He was a man after all. And it wouldn't be the first time that he'd gone that far with a bird. But for some unknowable reason, he was alright with them staying right where they were for the moment. Wherever that was.
Stella soon scuttled inside and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"You smell." She wrinkled up her nose.
"It's part of the package." He replied with a shrug as they checked in with the 'bouncer'.
(Apparently this was the name muggles used for a keeper of the keys, though for the life of him Charlie couldn't figure out what the generally heavy-set men had to do with bouncing.)
It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. The little flat above Slug & Jiggers was the cheapest place on Diagon Alley for a reason. Besides, the only people who ever got this close to him were Stella and the dragons at work, and the dragons weren't complaining.
"Oh, there's the girls. I'll see you in a bit, gatito." Stella was gone so fast that Charlie would have sworn she apparated if he hadn't known how much she hated it.
There was nothing for it but to go in as well. He momentarily considered staying in the dingy hallway, but he had a job to do and the bouncy-man didn't look like very good company in the first place.
Smoke and raucous noise washed over him inside the packed club as the bass beat of the techno music punched him in the gut. Bodies were everywhere, sweating, dancing, snogging and generally just existing in too cramped a space. Lights reeled wildly across the endless carpet of movement, bathing everything in a smoky, jeweled half-light. Habit took him to the bar where there was an irritating wait for the attentions of the barkeeper. The hard edged woman behind the counter graced him with a small smile and slid him his first bottle of firewiskey.
It was going to be a long night.
Their current mission was no more exciting to Charlie than the last one he'd had. The order had been recruiting quietly at in clubs and other night scenes for a few months now, using the cover of bands like Stella's and occasional help from bigger names to drum up individual conversations. You couldn't really recruit for the Order of the Phoenix using posters and radio announcements after all, and the real struggle for numbers was with their generation now. But after a little while, rumors had been circulating that the death eaters were catching on to their strategy. Some one had to come as protection for the recruiters and dating one made him a prime candidate for the job.
At least Stella was involved this boring mission. He did get the chance to see her performing from time to time, but it still seemed an acromantula's stride away from anything James Bond had ever done. No explosions, no high speed chases, and no large chested women. Stella didn't really count, of course.
She came back after a few hours. Her face was pink and her hair net was askew, making it very hard not to want to start snogging her there on the spot, but it appeared that was the last thing on her mind.
"You really do smell." He decided to talk Mr. Clepis, the clerk who worked at the apothecary in the mornings. Charlie didn't recall him having any sort of odor, even after crushing those squelchy beetles' eyes for hours on end.
Stella did not drink at all, as usual, and he kept the firewhiskey limited to two bottles because they were on duty. Since she wasn't intoxicated (and he was a bit distracted, both by her and by the slightest edge of the liquor creeping up on him) her next line of thought came as a bit of a shock.
"This is a good song, don't you think Charlie?"
"Mmm." He was too preoccupied with studying her neckline to pay attention to what she was saying.
"I used to come here a lot with the girls. We spent some good nights on the floor with this song."
"Really." He pondered what she would look like without the shirt. Some of the more notable parts of his anatomy came to the consensus that the picture was a right pleasant one.
"I got pretty good after a while. I'm a lot better at it that waltzing anyways." Her tone became more focused, but he did not notice the change.
"Uh huh." Thoughts elsewhere, Charlie wondered if maybe he should reconsider his stance on the fertilization issue.
They were very nice breasts, after all.
"So you'll dance with me then?"
"Huh?"
"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying or just staring at my boobs?"
Charlie searched desperately for an appropriate answer. He suddenly had a whole new appreciation for how male Vipertooths must feel before they get offed. But before he managed to earn himself an untimely demise, Stella continued on.
"Just come dance with me, you ass. You'll get the hang of it. Besides, you'll probably find it very … entertaining …" The look she gave him was half exasperation, half suggestion.
Charlie allowed himself to be lead onto the dance floor with trepidation in his gut. There was hardly any room to breath, much less move, and the flashing lights wouldn't allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He was going to make a fool of himself. Maybe if he was lucky, she would loose him in this crowd. The last thing on earth he wanted her to see right now was him being a complete berk.
Boum Boum Boum
Charlie began to remember why he hated techno music.
My heart goes …
My heart …
My heart goes …
With every step in, the forest of bodies grew thicker and his palms grew sweatier. What had he been thinking?
My heart goes Boum Boum Boum
He felt the music more than heard it, since you couldn't hear much over the roar of the wild frenzy around them, Charlie was happy to find he didn't have as much to worry about as he had thought. It only took a few songs for him to find the rhythm of things. Just about anyone could dance like this, at least on a rudimentary level. And the gyrating motion was proving … entertaining. Stella seemed to know this and flashed a mischievous grin at him over her shoulder.
She was soft. It felt good to have her in his arms, her back against his chest. Tingling shot through him, just under his skin, like the burning itch that goes down your spine when you transfigure yourself. Merlin, it felt good. He should have taken her up on this months ago.
My
heart goes Boum Boum Boum
Every
time I think of you
Heart's
going boum boum boum
Lost
control what shall I do?
But there was more to it than just animal attraction. He could feel that with half the women in the club. (Some of them might even go along with it too, considering the massive amounts of humanity that had overrun the place) The physical feelings were the larger part of what he was experiencing, yet there was just something … more. He couldn't think of a way to explain it to himself, except that it must be part of Stella's unique personality.
Simplicity, complexity, oh what a tragedy
She was so different from the people he was used to, a mad blend of sensibility and sheer insanity with a drop of frustrating iniquity. He did his best to ignore the fact that she was –in spite of his best efforts to convince himself otherwise- very much a Slytherin. She wielded money out of his brothers, consorted with Fish Face and the like, and contemplated 'teaching painful lessons' with the casual air of a woman on a mission to buy a certain pair of shoes. He loathed everything about that detestable way of looking at the world, was sickened by profiteers and self centered egotists. Yet he secretly wondered if that hint of wrongness, that glint of daring sinfulness was the very thing that made her so enticing.
He tried not to consider the possibility for too long.
Reality, insanity, strange normality
But there was so much about her that was worth looking for, worth overlooking her snakelike tendencies. She was lively and happy and good-natured. She made him smile. She listened to him … some of the time at least. She was definitely pretty, even if she wasn't quite the sort of girl he had mooned over at Hogwarts. She wanted to help people. She was kindhearted and good.
Most importantly, she wanted him too. There were a limited number of women in the world that were actively seeking Charlie Weasley at the moment, and he felt very lucky to have located one.
Incredible,
untouchable, but just visual
And
I want you, just you but natural
And there was a sense of mystery that hung around her, pulling him in despite himself. The past she never talked about, the appointments she wouldn't discuss, the sadness that he caught in her eyes sometimes when she thought no one was looking. He wanted to know why, wanted to understand what she was thinking, why she laughed at the jokes she did, what made her cry. There was so much of her that he had never seen.
She kept her secrets and kept them well, locked up behind iron walls and charmed doors that he was afraid to knock at. He was not an overly curious man by nature, but Stella bent all of his usual rules and standards far past the point of no return. It frightened him a little. And it made her even more appealing.
Cos I wanna be your lover
Till the end of our
lives
In fact, Charlie found that he could easily set aside Stella's faults when he thought about the positive aspects of her personality. He was getting good at just pretending the undesirable traits weren't there. Someday he was sure he would be able to bury their existence so deeply in the back of his head that it would be like they weren't real at all.
I could never miss again
Someday?
These loving eyes
For the first time, he seriously considered the idea that this really could last longer than a few months.
And the idea was not as frightening as he thought it would be.
She might really end up being something.
They might be something.
Oh Boum Boum Boum
In that moment, Charlie let go of caring about what he was thinking. He would worry about it all tomorrow. Tonight he was going to concentrate on her, his crazy witch, his dark-haired girl. He was going to forget everything except her and the music.
Cos I wanna be your lover
Till the end of our lives
I could never miss again
These loving eyes
Oh Boum Boum-
BOOM!
The wall behind them crashed down with a roar. Bricks and debris flew through the air. People were running, screaming. Black robed figures began to dart in through the smoke.
Black robed figures wearing bone white masks.
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Authoress's Notes: Predictions anyone? (evil grin)
Now lots of you are probably animal lovers and are probably thinking to yourselves 'no, that's not right. Stella's such a nice person! She should be kind to the birdies and love all the little critters!'. I'm an animal lover myself in fact, so this is one of her less appealing aspects for me too. But Stella, much like Charlie, is very human, and this is the first of several of her downfalls as a person. I wanted you to see her as a full, round personality (even if Charlie tends to view her in a very good light most of the time.) In fact, that's one of the reasons that Charlie had to find out about this particular flaw, since he's such an animal person himself. He has to realize (eventually, the twit) that their relationship, like all relationships, is not all fairy dust and happy endings. It's something between two ordinary, flawed people who care about each other and learn to accept the things about the other that they don't necessarily care for.
For those who look closely, you may find clues in the cloudwatching scene. For more on Diricawls, please check out the Harry Potter Lexicon or the book JKR wrote for charity, 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'.
I would apologize about how late this chapter is, but I can't because I'm not all that sorry in the end. It was too important to just rush through writing this one, and even though I'm still not quite happy with it, I'm glad I waited and thought it through. I hope all you readers out in readerland can understand and will forgive me like the darlings I know you are.
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Possum- Yeah, angry Harry has quite the forceful personality, doesn't he? I think it's just that I see him so clearly, that he is so unlike me and that makes him easier to write. In a way, Charlie is a bit more difficult because there are a few aspects of my own personality that slip into his voice if I'm not careful, so it's harder to keep a totally in focus mental picture of him 100 percent of the time. Yes, thank God. (God is very good at that sort of thing as a general rule, and since I'm acting as his surrogate here in my fanfiction literary land –yay for my authoristic God-complex- I'm rather flattered to hear that I'm doing a good job of it) No, she's rather blunt, isn't she? One of her most loveable qualities. I think that she feels an odd sort of … well, you might say a connection to Harry in a way, so that might be why she chose him over Ginny. Or maybe she was just being her clueless self…
HarryPotterMagic- I think you are going to enjoy the ride on the CMG prediction train. I do hope so. Dumbledore … can't say much about that until I'm sure how much about it I'm including in this particular fic… hmm. Dying … well, obviously I can't let THAT cat out of the proverbial bag ("No, Myra, we are NOT putting Moira's cats and/or kneezles into bags. You are a blackhearted woman, do you know that?" "Bloody things make me sneeze.") As for Fiddler, they didn't let you use accents? Are they crazy? That's half the fun of putting it on! Someone ought to smack your theater director up a bit.
Aqua- Crying? Yes!(does little dance of celebration) I always know I've done my job as an authoress when the reader A: wants to cry, B:has the uncontrollable urge to smack someone, or C: considers making me baked goods. I'm glad that the kitchen people came as a surprise. I love keeping everyone in suspense … like the end of this chapter, for instance… muahaha! Yeah, Stella's sense of tact and discretion is not a thing of beauty. (Come to think of it, I'm not sure she even HAS a sense of tact and discretion) I'm sorry about the wait, and it's far from perfect, but do enjoy.