Chapter Four: Summer Skin
Soundtrack: I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik
Summer Skin by Death Cab for Cutie
Disclaimer: I don't own, so don't sue.
The summer was coming to a close and I was getting closer to having to go back to school for the first time in three years. I really didn't want to, and had actually managed to ignore the issue until Mrs.
Weasley announced that we all needed to buy books. I groaned at breakfast on the fateful morning we'd be going to Diagon Alley. The summer really went by too fast.
So here's the deal with my lack of enthusiasm for school: It's a combination of a few contributing factors that have made me avoid a classroom for so long.
1. I'm incredibly over school.
So no, I didn't exactly aspire to be a drop-out growing up. I was actually intending on returning to Salem Witches' Institute once I was ready. But being completely independent and experiencing the
real world first-hand kind of changes you I guess. After a while I realized I didn't need to learn anything else in order to survive. Did I know everything? No, but if there's anything I really need to know
to save my life, I can take initiative myself to figure it out.
2. Rules.
I've been living without them for three years! No one has told me when to go to bed or when to use a restroom, to eat like so, to wear my clothes a certain way, blah blah blah. Dad cared little for
authority and to no surprise, I don't care either.
And of course,
3. I'll be officially going public, which scares the crap out of me.
I tried pretty hard in the U.S. to just be that one kid who never attracts too much attention; you can't hate them because they're low-key and never bother anyone, and you totally forget about them
every summer. But I'm pretty sure from now on I'll be stared at like a zoo animal for the rest of my natural life. All the attention I get will probably be negative and I'll most likely be carefully scrutinized
all the time.
Yes, I agreed to this. No, I do not want to live a lie forever, but the thought of all those people knowing me, and my father, and my nasty family…I just wish it didn't have to be such a drastic transition.
Anyways, after breakfast, I lamely slumped back to the room I was sharing with Hermione and Ginny to get dressed. I couldn't help but sigh as I rummaged through my small bag of belongings. Ginny
looked over with confusion painted on her face.
"What's eating you, Nola?" she asked and I looked up with melancholic disdain.
"I don't know, the idea of school…" I feigned a shudder to get the point across. "And school shopping?" I laughed dryly and motioned at the old t shirt and ripped jeans I threw on. "I'm obviously not
much of a spender. I mean, I think I've had these jeans since like, third year."
Mrs. Weasley cornered me downstairs as I was slipping on an ancient pair of flip flops.
"Nola, you don't have anything nicer to wear?" A trace of worry lingered in her voice. I stared at the woman a little confused; I had been dressing like so the entire time I stayed at the Burrow and no
one seemed to care. The worn fabrics, holes, and faded colors resembled a lot of the Weasley's clothing themselves. Why would I have to dress differently today?
"Um…There's this one sweater I have, but it's unraveling at the bottom…comes about up to here now," I motioned towards just above my bellybutton. Mrs. Weasley looked more distressed. "Am I being
set up on a blind date or something?" I asked trying to make light of the mood. She looked at me with even more severity. I began to get worried; something must be going on. Finally, Molly exhaled
and spilled.
"You're going to be meeting some public figures today," she admitted slowly. I stared blankly. My breath stopped in anticipation.
"Like…who?" I asked frightened. This could not be good.
"A writer from the Daily Prophet. And the new Minister of Magic." Mrs. Weasley looked at me with guilt, as my heart nearly went into arrest. I swallowed hard and listened to her words echo in my head.
The Daily Prophet……The Minister of Magic…..The bloody Minister of Magic! I sat down slowly and stared into space as panic surged through me in waves.
"Bloody hell…" I muttered after a few moments. I looked up at Mrs. Weasley who frowned apologetically.
"Dumbledore's idea?" I assumed. She nodded and I smirked in response.
"Of course it was his idea."
"Nola, it'll be alright dear. We can leave as soon as you've finished talking with them, and you won't have to see a soul until term starts."
Mrs. Weasley had a point, you know. Now that she put it that way, it didn't seem so completely terrible. She was right; I'd at least have a few days of peace before having to go to Hogwarts. As all of
the kids began to gather around the fireplace ready to leave, I exhaled in submission.
"Alright, let's get this over with."
~*~
I waited in the Leaky Cauldron with Mr. Weasley for the new Minister of Magic to meet us. Mrs. Weasley had repaired my sweater, but I picked at the ends so nervously that it threatened to unravel
again. I watched every witch and wizard walk through the doors, my heart racing each time.
"Not to worry, Nola," Mr. Weasley said brightly, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Rufus Scrimgeour is a very reasonable man. I'm sure he'll understand."
He may have spoken truthfully, but it didn't loosen the knots in my stomach, or slow my heart rate to a normal rhythm.
Promptly at 12:30, an older man with thick graying hair walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Weasley immediately straightened in his chair and I knew this was our guy. Mr. Weasley motioned for him to
come over and Scrimgeour walked across the pub in a stately manner. When he approached, Mr. Weasley rose to shake his hand.
"Nice to see you Arthur," Scrimgeour said gruffly with a nod.
"And you as well, sir. Please, have a seat."
"I can't stay long, so if you'll be brief, what did you want to show—"at that moment he noticed my presence before he could finish what he wanted to say. "Good afternoon…" he said slowly with a look
of confusion on his face. I smiled weakly and waited for Mr. Weasley to do all the talking. Right on cue he stepped in.
"I thought you should meet this young lady," he said, wringing his hands. "Sir, this is Nola Black: she's Sirius Black's estranged daughter."
Scrimgeour just stared blankly for a moment, his mouth slightly agape; we had clearly thrown him a curve ball. I tried really hard to avoid eye contact.
"You're…serious?" he finally said curiously. I tried hard to choke back a giggle at the accidental pun he just made. Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing way: he was searching for an apparent
resemblance.
"Afraid so," I said in a small voice. He continued to look me up and down until finally he took a deep breath. He leaned back and ran a hand through his grey mane, simultaneously pulling a pipe out of
his breast pocket. While lighting it, he looked me square in the eyes.
"Explain yourself."
Being as brief as possible, I told Scrimgeour everything (aside from Dumbledore being our secret-keeper, I didn't want to get him in trouble). Scrimgeour did not interrupt; he simply puffed away at his
pipe, occasionally raising a perplexed eyebrow. I finished my tale and waited for a response, but he continued to look at me as if I had more to say.
"And that's it," I said shortly. Scrimgeour took another deep breath and put away his pipe.
"I suppose you'll have to speak with the press…can't have a criminal's daughter pop into existence overnight…"
"He wasn't a criminal," I said as firmly as manners would allow.
"Oh yes, sorry. Old habits, you know." But he didn't look sorry. I don't think he even cared, or felt any remorse for my dad. I glared at the man and wished of all people he would sympathize. But he just
ran a hand through his hair and glared right back.
"I don't want any trouble from you." He said in a low voice. I was taken aback by this; I had not expected him to pin me as some sort of ruffian.
"Sir…" He pointed a large knuckled finger at my face.
"I don't want you glamorizing your father either. Even if he was innocent, it's in the past and we don't need any more of a ruckus." Was he kidding? He actually thought I'd act like some raving lunatic.
"To be perfectly honest, I don't like this whole thing one bit. If it were in my power I'd have you stay in hiding." I was beginning to dislike this man very much. He stood to leave and I was relieved our
conversation was almost over.
"But control of willpower is not in my job description. So go ahead Miss Black: tell the wizarding world who you are. But if I hear that you are in the least out of line or causing problems, I'll send you
straight back to where you came from." He turned to Mr. Weasley, who this whole time had watched in awe and horror. "Good day, Arthur." And Scrimgeour swept out of the pub, leaving me utterly
speechless. So much for an understanding and reasonable man…
"That's your boss?" I asked Mr. Weasley, still staring at the door.
"Yes, yes he is," he replied feebly. "Must've been having a bad day…"
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," I muttered. Finally snapping out of it, Mr. Weasley turned to me, his regular smile on as if nothing happened.
"Right, well, I suppose it's time for you to meet with the Prophet!"
I groaned in contempt. I had been tricked into thinking this whole ordeal would be easy. It in fact only made me want to drink gasoline.
"Can't I take a break for a few minutes? I have just been threatened by the Minister of Magic and all..."
"Now, now, Nola, you know what the muggles say: there's no time like the now!" Mr. Weasley grinned.
"Present…It's there's no time like the present, Mr. Weasley."
"Right, well they're one in the same. Come on then, off we go."
We immediately bustled out of the Leaky Cauldron and headed towards the Daily Prophet's headquarters. I had a feeling of complete dread in the pit of my stomach and just knew this wasn't going to
turn out well…
~*~
I had been hiding from everyone again; I just couldn't handle facing them, it was too embarrassing. Nestled against an ancient tree at the far end of the Weasley's property, I spent the last day of
summer in miserable solitude. I had really just wanted to cry my eyes raw and scream at the top of my lungs. There was a constant lump in my throat that begged for escape, but I don't know, dad
would've said something about being strong. And he'd be right, I mean, if I was just some weepy little orphan I'd get kicked around all the time, right?
The Daily Prophet arrived this morning with my face plastered across the front page. The interview the day before was not exactly as smooth as I had hoped. It was in fact completely disastrous:
Criminal's Daughter Comes Out of Hiding!
Have his secrets driven her mad with grief?
An exposee by Jeremy Campbell
Sirius Black, as we have all been informed, was killed this past June, leaving nothing behind but a horrid memory and a relieved wizarding world.
But was that all there was to the story?
With further investigation, this humble reporter has found that Black's infamy was only the tip of the iceberg.
Nola Black, alias Lex Williams is the newly discovered daughter of Black and magic's freshest scandal.
We have recently found out that Black had married pureblood Margaret Reay, who went missing after the incarceration of her unacknowledged husband. The Ministry had always believed her disappearance was
related to You-Know-Who and his followers.
Merlin, how wrong we were. Frightened, ashamed, and embarrassed, Reay fled with young Nola to the United States, where they hid for years. With a closer look, we found that Reay had killed herself, seemingly
far too ashamed of Black.
"I just want people to know the truth," Nola comments, choking back tears. She is a smart witch, greatly resembling her father, but grief has kept her on the bridge of illness.
This term, Black will be attending Hogwarts to complete her seventh year. Some will question if she is stable enough. Jumping down anyone's throat who insults her father, she reveals that she has many
demons of her past to overcome. Yet others will believe she will follow the footsteps of her late father.
"I just want to be normal," she tells me, a sad tremor of desperation in her voice.
Oh, if only it were possible, Miss Black. Surname alone will forever inhibit you from such wishes. *
That reporter played me. He took all the pieces of me that showed any sign of weakness and made me look like a loony. I had never felt more humiliated. He never even mentioned how my dad was
wrongly accused; like a true greed infested monster, he took only the most crude and vile information, filtering out anything moral or even true. It was all bollocks, and I honestly should've seen it
coming.
Tomorrow I'd be going to Hogwarts to meet hundreds of laughing, pitying, or even enraged peers and teachers. I'd have to hide the fact that their words and stares bother me for a whole year. There's
no way in hell that I would ever just be normal, not with the slander and chides buzzing around my head.
So because of all this ludicrous nonsense, I think I was warranted one last day of isolation. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to remember. For one day, I wanted to just sit out
and look at the landscape, wondering if this is what other people see. I just wanted to fade into everything around me for a bit.
"Hey," a voice greeted from behind. I loved over my shoulder and saw George standing a few feet away. My stomach fluttered a little which I quickly ignored. I turned back silently to watch a doe and
her foal caper playfully in the fields.
"Hey," I replied distantly. All I wanted was to be alone, but George did not move. I heard him impatiently shuffling his feet.
"It's getting late, dinner's gonna be ready soon."
I closed my eyes in disdain. My stomach growled at the thought of food; I had not eaten all day.
"I'm not hungry," I said despite biological needs. After a moment's silence, George sat down against the tree next to me. We sat like that for quite some time and watched the deer play. Soon enough,
the sky turned amber as the sun began to slowly set and I watched in horror as the last day of summer began to slip through my fingers.
"You know," George began, "the Daily Prophet writes cock-and-bull stories all the time lately. No one really believes what it says anymore."
I rolled my eyes with a snort. "You're just trying to make me feel better." George chuckled.
"Well is it working? Don't want to be wasting my time."
I looked over at him. He was smiling, as usual, and his caramel eyes were twinkling…they were nice. I smiled in return with narrowed eyes.
"A little." I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. We were silent again. Above us, a family of birds was chirping happily just before going to bed. A soft breeze pushed the long
drooping willow leaves around us. Everything seemed to be alive…is this what other people feel?
"You can't just let them bother you," George continued. "You'll get eaten alive by all the garbage if you do."
"You think so?" I fixed my gaze back to George. He nodded.
"Besides, that reporter bloke didn't even talk about how truly dreadful you are." A wicked smile spread across his face and a giggle escaped from my mouth.
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
George clapped his hands together mischeviously. "Well, for one, you're horribly violent and you get a kick out of seeing people bleed or something. You talk in your sleep, you have terrible table
manners, you dress like a muggle hippie, you're a citizen of the UK, yet you have an earsplitting Yankee accent, and your taste in music is sub-par at best."
My eyebrows rose a little higher at every accusation, and I felt like my mouth would drop to the floor when the attack had ended, but in half a second, I erupted in peals of laughter and pushed George
in the shoulder. He fell over and in a feigned attempt at grace, propped himself up on one elbow to face me.
"How'd you know all of that?" I asked when my laughter had finally calmed. "I haven't even been here that long." It truly was astounding; I didn't think anyone could observe that much in only a few
weeks, especially stuff about me, it's not like I'm that incredibly interesting. George shrugged nonchalantly.
"I listen." A slight blush crept across his cheeks, which he grinned away promptly.
From a five minute conversation, my mood had lifted immediately; it was incredible. George was right. I couldn't go around getting upset about every insult that gets thrown my way. That's just
preposterous; I'm a public figure now, that kind of behavior would drive me mad. Like the teasings from childhood bullies, I could ignore this too.
I smiled at my redheaded savior. "You're a good friend George."
His smile grew and that spark in his eyes returned.
"You're not so bad either Nola. Fred and I just may have to take you under our wing at school." I imagined the twins and I raising complete hell at Hogwarts: it was something my father would most
definitely be proud of.
"I'd like that."
But then my brow furrowed, remembering something particularly insulting George said minutes before. I jumped to my feet, newly offended and pulled out my wand.
"Aguamenti!" and a jet of water shot straight at George's face. With sopping hair, he looked up in complete shock, his mouth agape.
"I do not have bad taste in music."
George continued to stare, droplets of water falling slowly down his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if to speak, but I know I left him speechless. He finally wiped his face
thoughtlessly with his sleeve and slowly stood.
"You…are gonna pay for that!"
Before I could even react, he lifted me in a fireman hold on his shoulder and started walking briskly away from the tree.
"George, put me down!" I laughed, beating my fists into his back, but he refused and kept walking. He reached the edge of a stagnant pond and my thoughts were flooded with halfhearted dread. I
continued to struggle but he was too strong and launched me into the pool. The water was cool as I landed with an obnoxious splash; the water was dark and dirty. I resurfaced, choking up weeds
and glaring at my assailant. George burst into laughter of such a high caliber that it nearly brought him to his knees.
"You…look…ridiculous!" he roared as his eyes began to water. I slowly walked out of the waist high pond and looked myself over: I was covered in mud. There were strands of long grass stuck to my
clothes and entangled in my hair. Upon rubbing my eyes I found large smears of black in my hands: my mascara was running like crazy.
George was still laughing, almost choking for air. I smiled evilly in return. And as quickly as he had picked me up, I tackled him straight into the dirty puddle. George resurfaced just as muddy and gross
looking as myself, and so we carried on in an all out splash war to settle the score.
"I, George Weasley, am king of this pond!" George declared grandly as I dunked him underwater. When he surfaced I clung to his shoulders and piggy backed him.
"I, Nola Black, am king of this Weasley!" I imitated. I felt his muscles tense and I immediately regretted saying that, my face burning red. He turned around in my grasp to face me with wide eyes,
allowing us both to recognize the awkwardness of the situation. I let go of his shoulders quickly and looked away. I guess he felt his stomach flutter from time to time too then…
Not standing the weirdness for a moment longer, I plunged underwater and swam about the bottom for a little while. The water was dark, and I couldn't see anything down there but I continued to
explore the murky depths.
"Nola?" I could just barely hear George call above. In response, I grabbed his ankle in that second and pulled him under too.
We swam above and I laughed as he sputtered for air. The sun had almost set and I shuddered at the dusk's chill. On cue, we stepped out of the pond and wringed out our hair and clothes.
"Not a bad way to end summer holiday, I suppose," I thought out loud. George smirked.
"Guess not, I've endured worse," he joked and I punched his arm playfully. I thought about the excruciatingly long day we had ahead of us tomorrow and sighed.
"Am I gonna hate Hogwarts?" I asked randomly. George thought about it for a moment.
"Once you overcome your fears of authority or rules, it's not so bad…They also have good food."
Speaking of food…
"Fair enough…come on, let's go eat. I'm actually starving."
George smiled slyly. "I knew it. I've seen you eat." He proceeded to pantomime shoveling handfuls of food into his mouth rapidly.
"Says the boy who eats like a farm animal," I countered. George bowed in mock praise.
I turned around to see where the sun had once been and breathed in the cool night air, exhaling with peaceful remorse.
"Goodbye summer," I breathed quietly. George turned to catch a glimpse of the faintly pink horizon; a ghost of the sun's rays. He breathed in and looked on in deep thought, and I swear, for a split
second, he saw what I saw.
"Goodbye summer."
Please review, someone, anyone! I know you're reading, alerting, favorite-ing...please take a few extra moments and tell me what you think. First person to review gets a cameo part in the next chapter!