More than a bit nervous, Ron took a deep breath and squared his shoulders; with a determined set to his jaw, he knocked meekly on the door…and waited…
After a few moments, he realized that given the volume of the laughter coming from the room, his knock had probably gone unheard. So he knocked again, louder.
"Come in, Ron!" Darcy called.
Tentatively, Ron opened the door and took a few steps inside the room. Darcy and Hermione were both lying on their stomachs facing each other, Darcy on what was soon to be Harry's bed, and – get yourself under control, Ron, he told himself – Hermione was on his. Their faces were both flushed from laughter, and they looked relaxed and at ease with each other.
"I just wanted to let you know that Harry should be getting here soon," Ron said. Screwing up his courage, he mumbled, "An' I'm sorry for, erm…"
"Goggling at us like a big perv?" Darcy asked, barely suppressing her laughter.
Ron's eyes got wide and he blushed the color of his hair. "I didn't mean, that is I couldn't, I wasn't…"
"Chill! Breathe, okay? Just breathe. You're totally forgiven. Everybody knows boys are stupid."
Ron knew he'd just been insulted, but was too grateful that they weren't set on making him suffer to say anything but, "Yeah, I s'pose we are."
"Well Hermione," Darcy said, "as fun as this has been, I should go put away all my junk." With that, she stood and strolled out of the room and into her own.
A half hour later, Darcy had nearly finished putting her stuff away when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Assuming it was Harry, she cracked the door open so she could sneak a peek before he got settled in.
Mrs. Weasley came into view first, Harry following close behind. He looked pretty much the same as he had in the pictures Hermione had shown her that afternoon, but anger, misery, and loneliness were coming off of him in waves. She was seized by the desire to run up to him and wrap her arms around him, offering comfort and promises that everything would be okay. Rachel, she thought, had looked worn out and edgy that morning, but her sister had looked ten times better than Harry did. As he disappeared into the room across the hall, Darcy hoped his friends would know what to do.
The angry shouting that reverberated through the house minutes later suggested otherwise. The pain in Harry's voice stabbed at Darcy's heart. It wasn't quite 'the sound of ultimate suffering', but it was damned close. She'd heard enough about the life and times of Harry Potter that she had an inkling of what he was going through, so, for better or for worse, she decided to butt in…after Harry stopped shouting…
Once it died down, Darcy made her way over to Ron and Harry's room. She put her ear to the door to make sure the conversation seemed civil.
It sounded safe, at least. Ron and Hermione were telling Harry what the people in the Order were up to. Wondering if that topic would start another fight, she crossed her fingers and knocked on the door.
Harry looked up when someone knocked on the door.
"Is it safe in there yet?" an American voice asked.
"Yeah, come on in, Darcy," Ron called. "I did tell you about our cousins coming to stay with us, right?"
Harry nodded slightly, but still felt pretty angry. But then the door opened…and why didn't Ron warn him that his cousin was so pretty? He glanced over at Ron, who was watching him with a satisfied smirk. Ah, so it was intentional, then.
"Darcy, this is our friend Harry," Hermione introduced.
"Yeah. Harry would probably have introduced himself, but I'm afraid he may have shouted himself hoarse," Ron interjected.
"I, erm, I'm pleased to meet you," Harry managed to choke out, after sparing a dark look Ron's way. "Sorry if you heard, the, erm…"
"Post-traumatic stress outburst? No big," Darcy cut in with a smile. "Though Paz or Aton could probably help you find more effective ways to express the grief and rage."
Well, now he had a lot more questions. "Who?"
"Holy crap! Doesn't anybody tell you anything? Wow, by all means, go right back to being pissed off."
"Dumbledore made us swear!" Hermione cried, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"So, did he tell you not to tell him or to make sure he didn't find out?"
"What difference does that make?" Hermione looked suspicious and mildly disapproving.
"The difference is that, if he told you the latter, there's no way around it – you just gotta disobey. But if he just told you not to tell him, you could have told someone else, someone who wasn't told not to tell him anything, to tell Harry whatever you thought he should know. I mean, Fred, George, Pascale even? Did they all swear not to tell him anything too? I mean, duh! It's all about obeying the letter of the law with adults. You can't get in trouble for doing what you weren't told not to do."
"It's not like we wanted to keep you in the dark, Harry," Hermione said, trying to bring him back into the conversation. "But surely Dumbledore had his reasons for not wanting you to know!" Hermione insisted, fresh tears springing to her eyes.
"Chill sweetie," Darcy said. "That is an interesting perspective. But here's another… Who cares if he had a reason? He's like, a billion years old… What do you think he remembers about being fifteen? How about this, do you think Harry's the kind of person who would react well to being kept out of the loop? Or, do you think he's the kind of person who'd be pissed off about it? Maybe even end up in more danger because he took matters into his own hands?"
Darcy turned toward Harry, looking him in the eye. "I don't mean to talk about you like you're not here, by the way. Just, you know, trying to make a point."
Harry hadn't even been bothered by it. Someone he didn't even know was sticking up for him to his best friends, friends that shouldn't have needed her to tell them that stuff. So he smiled at her, his first genuine smile since he'd seen Cedric die. "And I think you've made it, thanks."
Darcy just blushed and smiled back. Darcy was quite pretty, Harry thought again, but she seemed so warm and friendly that she didn't make him feel uncomfortable or tongue-tied like Cho always had. Afraid to dwell on that line of thought for long, he chose to repeat his prior question. "So, who are these people I wasn't told about?"
Oh, Pascale, though I call her Paz, and AAAAHH!" Darcy screamed as Fred and George apparated directly in front of her.
"Pascale is someone you need to meet, mate," Fred stated, as though it were entirely normal to 'pop' into the middle of a conversation and then hijack it.
"Too right," George agreed. "You should've heard her shouting at Mum earlier."
"You're not wrong there, George. It was about how you're being kept out of your own business, Harry. She said that any attempts to control you or keep you in the dark would make you feel like you weren't trusted."
"Right, and then she, oh, what was it?" George paused and tapped a finger on his chin for a few moments. "Oh yes, she thought that sort of rubbish could cause you to make poor decisions."
"Like storming out of your house when people want you dead…"
"Or shouting at your friends…"
"Alienating people who care about you…"
"Oh, good one Fred."
"Right, right," Harry grumbled. "Point taken. Could we possibly talk about something else?"
"Actually, we were hoping you could all lay off the conversation for just a bit. We were trying to listen in downstairs," Fred said, holding up a long, flesh-colored string.
Ron shook his head. "You're just asking for trouble with those things. Either Mum will confiscate them, or Pascale will blow out your eardrums."
"It's worth the risk, they're having a major meeting, and I want to know what old Snape's been up to."
Interest peaked, Harry listened as Fred and George explained about the Extendable Ears, which, as Ginny reported that the kitchen door had been Imperturbed, turned out to be useless. And soon the conversation turned to Bill and Charlie, who were also in the Order, and to Percy, who appeared to be turning into a remarkably stupid, selfish prat.
And that led to another rather unpleasant revelation. Learning that the Daily Prophet had been regularly making him out to be a deluded, attention seeking twit just capped off a singularly horrible week.
But then a knock on the door halted the conversation. "Knock, knock," called another American voice.
"Come in, Rachel," Darcy called. To Harry, she added, "My older sister."
"Hey guys. You must be Harry. Hangin' in there?" asked the woman who, at first glance, Harry thought bore little resemblance to Darcy. But then she slipped an arm around Darcy's waist and they leant their heads together, and he noticed their similar face shapes, and that they had the same smile and the same eyes.
"Erm, I'm trying, thanks. It's nice to meet you," Harry replied.
"Likewise," Rachel grinned. "So, I was sent to tell you all that dinner's ready, but I'm heading out and wanted to say hey to you, Harry, and good night to my sisters." She looked around the room. "Where's Leah?"
"Oh, son of a biscuit-eater!" Darcy exclaimed, eyes wide with fear. "I was gonna look for her earlier and I forgot!"
Rachel rubbed the space between her eyes wearily. "Right, and when was this you were going to look for your eleven-year-old sister?"
Darcy studied the floor quite intently and muttered something unintelligible.
"Sorry. Didn't quite catch that."
"Elevenish," she whimpered, still looking at the floor.
Harry watched, fascinated, as Rachel's knuckles turned white and her left eye began to twitch. In a calm, yet menacing tone that was eerily reminiscent of Snape just before he deducted a load of points, Rachel spoke, "Your sister's been missing, in a house containing a hippogriff, for nine hours and you forgot?"
Darcy's head shot up at the mention of the hippogriff. "Hippogriff?! I thought that was a joke!" she exclaimed. "You know that's just where she'd go!"
Then, Darcy shot out of the room like hell itself was on her tail, Rachel not far behind.
Fred and George exchanged a glance and disapparated.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione all looked at each other, shrugged, and followed at a more leisurely pace.
When they reached Buckbeak's room, Darcy and Rachel were both standing in the doorway, smiling wistfully. Curious, Harry and Hermione crowded into the doorway, and Ron stood just behind them, peering over Hermione's head.
Harry barely noticed Hermione's sharp intake of breath as Ron brushed against her, but Darcy caught it. She looked past Harry, winked at Hermione, and whispered to them all. "Fred went to grab my camera. Keep quiet; I don't want them to wake up before I get photographic evidence."
Harry looked into the room, trying to ignore the way Darcy's bare leg was rubbing against him. A little girl, obviously Leah, was sleeping curled up into Buckbeak's side, just where horse melted into eagle, her face buried in feathers. Buckbeak's head was turned backward to wrap protectively around her tiny body.
With a pop, Fred arrived with a camera. Harry was quite distracted by the way Darcy's body brushed against his side as she turned to grab the camera, and barely caught her thanks to Fred…something about how the photo would make excellent blackmail material in a few years.
Fred just nodded sagely, but when she took a few steps into the room to snap a picture, Fred leant toward Harry and whispered, "I think I've a new favorite cousin."
Harry grinned, but wondered if Fred had even had a favorite cousin before.
After a few moments, Fred added, "You'd best not hurt her, mate. I don't think I like your chances if you do."
Startled, Harry gradually shifted his gaze, but Fred just winked at him and looked back into Buckbeak's room. Shaken and a bit overwhelmed, Harry did the same.
The click of the camera woke Buckbeak, and when he raised his head, Darcy immediately bowed, hands behind her back, shaking the camera toward Fred, who whispered, "Accio camera."
Buckbeak stared, uncertainly, at Darcy for over ten seconds, but bowed his head at last. The movement woke Leah, and Harry released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Leah felt around the floor, eventually coming up with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Knowing how disconcerting it could be to wake up surrounded, Harry took a few steps back from the doorway, motioning for Hermione and Ron to do the same.
"Finally notice I was gone?" Leah asked in a soft, yet derisive tone.
"No," Darcy said indignantly. Unfortunately, she ruined it by adding, "I actually just remembered that I'd forgotten to go looking for you."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Leah replied sarcastically. "That's so much better."
"Oh, bite me," Darcy huffed.
"Careful, Buckbeak might think you were talking to him."
"Pfft."
"Alright," Rachel interjected. "Come on, you two, it's time for dinner. I'm taking off though, Leah, and I wanted to say good night. And I'll try to get back here at least once before school starts. Maybe we can all go sight-seeing or something. But, I need to talk to Darcy alone, so go on ahead with the others. They're waiting outside."
Once everyone was out of earshot, Darcy began to plead. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe I forgot, but she is okay, and…"
"Stop." Rachel held up a hand to accentuate her demand. "I know. I was worried, but I'm not mad at you. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about…"
As they made their way downstairs, Ron groused that the side trip had probably cost them any chance they'd had to overhear anything as the Order left. Harry agreed, but was glad he hadn't been the one to complain about it, especially when he heard a small voice behind him mutter, "whiner." He turned his head to glance at Leah, who was following closely behind him, her head buried in a huge tome. On closer inspection, he realized it was an advanced Potions Theory text. He was about to ask her about it when a familiar voice wafted up to them and everyone froze in their tracks.
"I assure you, madam, that is not my intention," Snape said smoothly.
Almost as one, they crept to the edge of the staircase and peeked down to see Snape's greasy, wait, Harry amended mentally, not greasy, but shorter, and styled hair?! If not for the highly recognizable voice and gargantuan schnoz, Harry thought he might not have recognized the old git. At any rate, he was standing across from a tall, thin woman, and he nodded absently when Ron whispered, "Pascale," in his ear.
"Good," Pascale replied. "'Cause if you hurt her, I will rip off your arms and beat you to death with them." She sounded deadly serious.
"Understood," Snape calmly replied.
"Cool, then. Enjoy the rest of your summer, Sev, my man." With that, she clapped Snape on the back hard enough that he winced.
Recovering quickly, he inclined his head slightly, said, "And you as well," and strode away.
Harry shook his head a bit, wondering what that had been about and why Snape had been…polite. He glanced over at Hermione, who appeared to be thinking, probably about the same thing. Ron, as usual, was making rude comments about Snape, and Harry was surprised to catch little Leah glaring daggers at Ron over the top of her book. Before he could follow that train of thought, a mischievous voice snapped him out of his reverie.
"It's really quite rude to eavesdrop, you know. Not to mention careless to be so obvious about it. You get off with a warning this time, buddy boy, 'cause you're new here," Pascale said, wagging a finger in Harry's direction. "Next time, well, ask Fred and George about the consequences of sloppy surveillance. But I must say that I am disappointed. I expected better from such noted troublemakers."
"Sorry, Pascale. We'll be stealthy next time," Ron grinned.
"All I ask," she replied breezily. "Now get your dumb butts down to dinner, I'm starvin'. Oh, and remember to make all the noise you want in the hallway." Pascale skipped down the steps, whistling something Harry found vaguely familiar as she went.
"That was…different," Harry commented. "What did she mean about making noise in the hall?"
"Oh," Ron chuckled as they started walking again. "There was this bloody awful portrait in the hall, and she'd scream and curse at everyone to get out of her house any time someone made noise near her portrait. She got worse after Kreacher kicked it."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"Aw, come on, Hermione. He was a freaky, nasty little git, and not even you could be sorry he's dead. Cor, Harry, don't look like that! Kreacher was just a creepy old nutter of a House Elf. But, you know Hermione – she's still on about spew."
The ensuing argument lasted until they reached the kitchen, with only a small break to indicate to Harry where the portrait had been until that afternoon, when they'd finally gotten rid of it. They promised to tell him all about it later, and went right back to arguing.
Dinner actually started off well, with Sirius surprising him with a quick hug, telling Harry that this was his house. Darcy showed up only a few minutes after they did, looking pensive, but then Pascale and Sirius, who were dating, began to tell stories of pranks past and trading off-color jokes under their breath so Mrs. Weasley couldn't hear.
Harry didn't understand about half of them, but felt some measure of relief that Hermione looked even more puzzled than he felt. He experienced a moment's shock that Ron appeared to understand them all, but figured that it had something to do with his having five older brothers. But he was truly shocked when, after a particularly long, confusing joke, Darcy whispered, "Man, Paz, that's just nasty. Are you trying to disturb us into vows of celibacy?"
"What? Hell no. Just, mmm…" Pascale paused and scrutinized Harry and Ron for a moment. "Try to keep it in your pants, well, your hands anyway, for at least another year or two. I feel compelled, as an adult, to remind you that you're too young."
Harry was mortified. He felt the blush spread across his face, and glanced at Ron to see how he was faring. To his surprise, Ron was grinning like a madman, and actually went so far as to sketch a salute and stage-whisper, "Yes, ma'am." Hermione, who was on Ron's left, blushed furiously, and her eyes were fixed on the food she kept pushing around her plate.
Ron glanced sideways at Harry. "Best get used to it mate, Pascale's right pervy."
Pascale snorted, then shrugged. "Hey, someone's gotta be in Molly's House of Repression. Way she acts, I'll bet she thinks all her boys are innocent little vir…"
Harry was grateful for the loud guffaws from Mundungus Fletcher's end of the table that cut off Pascale's increasingly disturbing comments. On the downside, though, it kicked off the first major argument of the evening. It seemed that while Mrs. Weasley understood the Order's need for someone with Mundungus' particular skills and various contacts, she did not like it when he stayed for dinner.
Pascale's off-hand comment, that 'Molly's just worried that her babies will be corrupted,' was just a touch too loud, and it sparked a second argument, between Mrs. Weasley, Pascale, and Sirius, but Pascale ended it quickly with a cryptic comment about how they probably shouldn't discuss teenagers again.
When Fred and George both pretended to cough to cover their laughter, Harry assumed it had something to do with the earlier argument they'd been on about.
What struck Harry the most though was how happy and carefree his godfather seemed. Before, Harry had only seen Sirius really happy in various pictures with his fellow Marauders, so it was wonderful to see the contented smile on Sirius' face. In a weird way, it gave Harry hope for his own future.
But he also noticed that Darcy had remained quietly introspective, and had barely touched her food. As she'd struck him as a, well, rather vivacious person, Harry figured that, for Darcy to be so quiet, her sister must really have let her have it.
When he'd finished his dessert, Sirius brought up the subject of Voldemort, and his surprise that Harry hadn't already begun to ask questions.
Mrs. Weasley looked so upset by Sirius' desire to fill him in, Harry half-expected her head to spin completely around and explode. As it was, her face and clenched hands turned colors.
And though she demanded the 'children' all be kept out of the matter, it didn't take long before he, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione all received permission to stay. Ginny was furious about getting kicked out, and she did not go quietly, but Leah and Darcy left without a fuss. Darcy actually said something about having no desire to get caught up in their political BS anyway.
Harry's head was full as Mrs. Weasley marched them to their rooms. He was startled out of his reverie when Mrs. Weasley knocked on the door across the hall from his and Ron's room, or more accurately, when Darcy opened said door. The thought that she was just across the hall was not an unpleasant one, but it did make him feel strangely nervous.
"What's up?"
"I just wanted to tell you it's time for lights out, so…" Mrs. Weasley began.
"Are you kidding?" Darcy interrupted. "One, it's unhealthy to go to bed so soon after eating, two, it's only nine-thirty, and three, the whole point of summer is that there's no bedtime. Back home, during the summer, my freakin' curfew isn't even until midnight for God's sake!"
Darcy paused and exhaled loudly. Harry could hardly believe the way she'd spoken to Mrs. Weasley, and hoped she wouldn't be punished too severely.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you," Darcy apologized after a few moments. Then, narrowing her eyes, she bit out, "How very childish of me." With that, she closed the door in their faces.
Given the fury in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, Harry decided the wisest course of action was to get out of the line of fire. He turned and scrambled into his room, Ron about half a step behind him, barely tossing a "G'night, Mum," over his shoulder as he ran.
Shutting the door and practically deflating against it, Ron half-whimpered, half-laughed. "Could you believe that? Was it just me, or did Darcy basically just tell Mum that she was being childish tonight?"
Harry, who'd collapsed on his bed, raised his head. "Sounded like it me too, yeah."
Ron just shook his head, a shell-shocked look on his face. "Whoa."