The title for chapter thirty is from…well…it's complicated. It was originally supposed to be from Tick, Tick…Boom! but apparently, it also comes from Into the Woods, See What I Wanna See, and The Goodbye Girl. Congrats to Yank2324, GreenCowsGoMoooo, Wickedgreenchild, and Easterly Winds.
It's official. There are going to be 33 chapters instead of 32.
Chapter 31: Always Look on the Bright Side of Life
"We have to tell McGonagall what's happened. She needs to know," Hermione said commandingly as the four, comically slinking about and resembling a group of spies in the face of avoiding the busy corridors, left the dungeons.
"Why?" Snape asked. "Adding a murderer on the loose in the school to her plate will only hurt her."
"Yes, but as Harry is out of the picture for now, that leaves McGonagall in charge of the Order. It would be severely irresponsible of us to overlook any kinds of delays we could cause in not informing her." Hermione said patiently, pausing to effectively make her point.
Snape wrung his hands and squinted his eyes at the dreary setting. "What kind of Auror trusts a Death Eater?" he derided. The story went that Ron had feigned an increasing internal injury that begged attention in his cell and pleaded for a visit to Madame Pomphrey. He droned on and on, clutching his imaginary wounds in the moist, dank cell until the Auror on duty gave in.
The darkness portrayed the Death Eater as a still, silent form in agony on the ground, until the Auror was close enough to be attacked. Ron leapt onto her and smashed the back of her head on stone to collect enough time to steal her wand and escape without a trace.
"There could be something in the Grimmerie, Elphaba," suggested Fiyero. "Some kind of locater spell that could track him down."
Inwardly, Elphaba groaned at the suggestion, though valid. The Grimmerie was a thing of treachery to her, and she'd endured enough of it for several lifetimes. It was a game of fire with the tome, one easily lost or gone awry, but it did hum a hopeful tune in such situations. "It's worth a try," she nodded, partly to convince herself. "The Grimmerie is in my rooms. We might as well get it now. Maybe we could find Ron before telling McGonagall about his escape, and perhaps some stray Death Eaters looming around the area as well. Come on." She twisted on her heel and headed in the opposite direction for the others to follow.
As they approached the portrait hole, there was something strange about how the portrait hung open slackly, as if shut in a hurry or left open in mockery. Fiyero cast the green witch a skeptical look. "Since when did you ever leave your portrait door open?"
"I didn't," Elphaba said simply. "I never do." Without hesitation, she stalked into the room and drew out her wand nervously.
"D'you think Glinda would have?" Hermione implied.
"No, she's been meeting with Pomphrey all morning, and with all the reporters, she knows we can't take that chance." The green witch swayed unconsciously. "Besides, we've both been using Floo Powder to get around."
"Let's not stand around and conjure ideas," said Snape, who moved to join Elphaba. "We've a Death Eater to catch, and you're worried about open portrait doors."
Elphaba was the first to walk in and took a sharp inhale at how the once pristine room greeted her. "Oh Merlin," she muttered, taking care not to step on the clutter strewn across the floor as she inspected the damage of her dilapidated living room.
The floor was covered in what should have been organized in cupboards; said items had been pulled from their home and placed wherever. The couch was filled backwards for effect and curtains were forced from their hinges to lie in heaps nearby. Drawers were upturned and her desk was a mess. Things were torn and smashed out of a kind of frustration. It seemed as though a miniscule tornado ripped through the room, but there was something curious about the clutter. Piles on the floor were somehow in order, as though the tornado wished to sort as best its clumsy, cyclonic hands could manage.
"What in the bloody hell happened here?" Snape yelled, surveying the room as Fiyero and Hermione stepped in to find out what the matter was. Items were scattered and broken every which way, and Fiyero stumbled over a chair leg.
Elphaba absently righted the over-turned coffee table, paying no attention to it and feeling devastated. She picked up a folder that once had her students' work waiting to be marked in alphabetical order before turning towards her friends. The awed expressions they wore mirrored Elphaba's shock, articulating the injustice manifesting in her stomach.
"Well?" Hermione interrupted their rendezvous of astonishment. "What are we all standing around here for? A house-elf?" She bent down and began to collect spare pieces of parchment, rolling them up in a massive collection and slung clothing over a shoulder.
"I'm almost afraid to go into your bedroom," Fiyero noted.
"I believe it," Elphaba grinned wryly at him. "But it can't be any worse than this. I don't understand why someone would… who could have done this? And why would they?"
"This looks familiar," Snape said. "Perhaps they were looking for something. Is anything missing?"
"It'd be a bit difficult to tell in this mess," Hermione answered for Elphaba, her maternal instincts grinding like wheels in the green witch's defense.
"I've nothing valuable in here anyway," Elphaba reasoned. "Unless the thief had an insatiable desire for homework and books about Dueling and Chancellor histories."
"What about money?" Fiyero asked hesitantly.
Elphaba quirked an eyebrow at him, causing a sheepish shrug of broad shoulders. "Fiyero, I'm not in much wealth over here. I wouldn't even make it to the top ten list of a robber."
"What about your bedroom – do you have anything of value in there?" Hermione frowned slightly at the rolls of parchment she collected from the havoc, which had unrolled and fell on the floor again.
"No, nothing. I've got-" The witch stopped abruptly, paling slightly, her color appearing mint in her realization. "No. No, no, no," she whispered in a hiss, panicked. She ran over to her bedroom and threw open the doors, exposing the damage there. She disappeared for a time, until the other three were met with a muffled, yet fully angered, "Dammit!"
"What is it, Fae?" Snape said impatiently. "You can be as cryptic as Albus was, more than often, you know that? Do you know what's missing?"
Elphaba marched out of her bedroom, cheeks darkened from searching the closet. She turned to the Order members. "The Grimmerie is gone."
"What?" yelped Fiyero, striding past Elphaba into the room, as if to double check. He was wholly aware of the Grimmerie's terrorizing past and debatable creation, more so than the others. 'Where did you put it before? Out in the open for the world to see?"
"Right in that top drawer, on the left." Elphaba pointed to where her ex-boyfriend was causing commotion. "The thief broke the bloody locks too, as you can see."
"We know why they broke in now: for the stupid book," Fiyero sighed, leaning on the wall. "So the next question is, who-"
"Who do you think, Tiggular?" Snape had been looming around the room until now. "Who's been affiliated with the Dark Lord and recently escaped his cell? Who's been looking to defeat Fae in one way or another? Yes, you're nodding your head." Fiyero eyed the Potions Master with a glare.
"It was Ron. He's right." Hermione walked into the room, clutching something. In her palm were clusters of distinctly red hairs, rooted from the scalp. "There are even footprints around the doorway, big ones. Ron has big feet."
"That's just great, then," Elphaba snapped. "Weasley is Merlin-knows-where with a deadly weapon in his control. He's gone on about all these great powers bestowed on him by Voldemort. Maybe he thinks he can use the Grimmerie to elicit it."
"He can't read the Grimmerie, remember?" Fiyero reminded, his tone slightly optimistic, however feeble. "The best thing he could use it for is selling, or as a bargain chip. Maybe he wants a ransom or something. Just don't worry."
"The implications are still dire." Snape crossed his arms across his chest. "I agree with Fae. The book is dangerous in the wrong hands. We don't know what his plans are."
"We'll be on the lookout. He can't have gone far," Elphaba sighed. "There's nothing we can do about it now. If Weasley tries anything, we'll be ready for him, but until then, we'll be waiting."
"How could Ron get in though?" Hermione asked, hesitant about how to approach the subject. "You're certain you didn't leave the portrait door open?"
"Do I look that careless to you?" Elphaba snarled loudly, wound up from the destruction of her rooms. The overwhelming activities as of late were a strain and subjected the witch to irritation, as it did to everyone.
"Stop it, Elphaba!" Fiyero immediately jumped to Hermione's defense, almost going so far as to jump in front of her. "She's just trying to be helpful. We all are."
Elphaba faltered and then gave the bushy haired witch an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Hermione," she said sincerely. "I appreciate it. But I didn't leave the door open. Like I said, I never do. It's just so… frustrating. I don't understand how…" Her eyes landed on the fireplace and she paused. "The fireplace."
"The fireplace?" Snape repeated doubtfully. "Isn't it password protected? Otherwise Weasley would have had to get through the obligatory Hogwarts security."
"It used to have a password protection," Elphaba said, slumping somewhat. "I disabled it a while ago because Glinda and I were using it so much; it was easier that way. As long as Weasley knew the destination, he could gain access."
"What should we do now, then?" Fiyero asked anxiously, clicking his tongue.
"Fae's right. There's nothing we can do," Hermione answered solemnly. "Nothing except re-set the password, and-" she tripped over a canvas frame "-clean up this mess, and then wait for something to happen."
Elphaba couldn't quite remember the specific details of the speeches given at Dumbledore's funeral, perhaps because she wasn't paying attention all along. She could say, though, that there wasn't a dry eye among those who attended, including her own. There were hundred of wizards and witches, coming and going in great throngs, who came to pay their respects and celebrate the life of one of the greatest wizards to live. She struggled over the concept, but in result still couldn't quite grasp that the Headmaster wasn't coming back.
Voices could be heard along the shore of the lake, and despite her better judgment, Elphaba ducked behind a tree to eavesdrop.
"I still remember our third year, when Dumbledore helped us rescue Sirius." It was Hermione, walking along with her hands clasped. "It's one of my favorite memories of him; that is, defying the ministry and helping a convict escape. But he was a good convict." She smiled despite moist eyes.
Fiyero was walking alongside, and somewhere along the line they sat down. Catching wind of Hermione's emerging distress, he took her hand in his. "He was an amazing man," he acknowledged, smoothing enunciating his words. "I feel honored and privileged to have worked closely for him."
"I'm glad you did too," Hermione admitted, blushing. "Because if you hadn't, I wouldn't have come to know you. You're an amazing man, Fiyero."
It seemed Fiyero was quite bashful himself, as his free hand ripped at stray blades of grass. "Well, I-you're quite brilliant yourself, Hermione. You're so smart, and you have such a passion and fire about life, and the Order, not to mention for ending house-elf enslavement. There's nothing to dislike about you."
Hermione laughed and placed her other hand over the one holding hers. "Oh Fiyero, I was so worried for you during the battle. I kept thinking that maybe you'd be struck down, up there in the sky. I don't think I could handle if you had died as well."
Fiyero flashed his large teeth and took Hermione's chin in his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face slightly. "Well, here I am," he said reassuringly. "All of that has passed, and we're both safe to make decisions of our own free will. There's nothing to fear anymore."
Suddenly aware of their physical closeness, he quickly dropped his hand and apologized wordlessly. Hermione gazed at him kindly, squeezing his hand so they would be eye to eye. Without missing a beat, their unbreakable staring contest turned into a meeting of lips as they leant forward to close the gap that was minimizing anyhow.
Elphaba stared in shock, having been crouching at the base of the tree the entire time. She certainly hadn't expected this to happen, and she couldn't help but find it uncomfortably familiar. She had noticed the stolen glances between the two for a month, or maybe more, she couldn't recall. Something that could have been jealousy, if it wasn't so meek, was born in Elphaba, but she shook it off and turned to leave. However, she hesitated when Fiyero spoke.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Fiyero stuttered uncharacteristically as they broke apart. "I didn't mean to- I mean, I don't know why- I-I'll just go, then."
"Why are you sorry?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly hurt and pulling on his hand to beckon him to take a seat since he made to leave.
"I- well, I- It's just that you deserve someone better, Hermione," Fiyero sighed. "You deserve better than an ex-scarecrow and an ex-Gale Force officer who is in exile from his home country."
"Does it look like I care about any of that?" Hermione laughed, clutching tightly to his arm. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and you're right: there's nothing left to fear or stifle our choices. I know who I like and who I'd like to date."
"But-but Hermione," Fiyero protested, somehow determined to break her persistence. "I can't even do magic; I'm obsolete! Doesn't that bother you at all? Don't you want someone who can do magic?"
"You certainly aren't obsolete," Hermione said pointedly. "My parents are Muggles; I lived for eleven years without a clue about the wizarding world." She narrowed her eyes. "Is this your way of telling me you don't want to date?"
"Oh no, no," Fiyero hastily reassured the bushy-haired witch. "I do want to, more than anything. I just don't want it to be something you'll regret later."
"I can guarantee you, that's impossible," Hermione said sweetly. "If it makes you feel any better, we can take things slowly."
"Yeah, I'd like that," Fiyero said, and they leaned in to steal another kiss. Elphaba rolled her eyes and left her hiding spot for the castle. She was truly pleased that Fiyero was able to find his own happiness and suppressed a nasty smirk until she could tell Glinda all about it.
"Hermione and Fiyero are WHAT?" Glinda shrieked.
Elphaba's lips curled into a small smile. "Together," she repeated. "Just don't tell them that we know. I want to see how long it'll take before they decide to tell us."
"Their secret is safe with me," Glinda smiled back. Elphaba smirked, knowledgeable of the blonde's inability to keep things to herself. Glinda didn't seem to care much for it, though, after the battle. Her main concern and relief was that Elphaba was alive and well and that they were together. It was a one-track mindset, and immensely selfish, but Glinda decided she deserved to be. She was glad it was Harry who took the final blow, instead of Elphaba, cruel as it was. The blonde tried to scold herself, but just found she was too thankful to care otherwise, when Elphaba broke into her consciousness.
"Hello?" Elphaba was saying. "Sickle for your thoughts."
"Oh, I was just thinking-" Glinda began absently, playing with the fringes of her dress.
"Thinking?" Elphaba raised her eyebrows, teasing meanly. "Well, that's got to be a first."
Glinda narrowed her eyes at the green witch and playfully smacked her arm. "Oh, hush you! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," she paused for emphasis and stuck her face near Elphaba's with a mock glare, "I was thinking about how the war is finally over. I haven't even been here long and it seems surreal – I'm just so thankful."
Elphaba bit her lip and sighed, having hoped to avoid the impending conversation for at least a few more weeks. The topic would inevitably unfold, and they'd have to confront it sooner than later. "Yes, thank Merlin for that. But there's just… but then…"
"What's the matter?" Glinda's face was etched with genuine concern.
Elphaba smiled at the blonde and pulled her up by the arm. "Come for a walk with me." She was thinking about how to approach the subject on her way back to her rooms, which were finally cleaned up after much hassle.
In her anxious state, Elphaba tended to walk in long, fast strides Glinda couldn't keep up with, but the blonde bounced along and tugged at the green witch to slow her some. "What is it, Elphie? You're acting like the war's just begun."
Elphaba bit her tongue at the symbolism. "Well, now that the war is over," Elphaba began, choosing her words hesitantly, "the duties Albus asked you to fulfill are complete, and you'll have to go back to Oz and sort through your work you left behind. When you do, I can't. That is to say, when you go back to Oz, I can't join you."
"Oh," Glinda said softly, her pretty expression practically melting from her face, replaced with glumness. She'd hoped they wouldn't have to concentrate on her departure for a while and had prolonged confronting it in her thoughts until now. They'd rekindled their relationship through multiple tests and proclamations, and Glinda didn't want to spend any more time apart from Elphaba. They'd done that already.
"There's nothing keeping you here anymore," Elphaba reminded, explaining more to herself than Glinda.
"Yes there is," Glinda hissed, forcing Elphaba to stop in her tracks. "You're here. I'd say that's a pretty good reason, now wouldn't you?"
Elphaba sighed again, having predicted Glinda's persistence. Talking about breaking apart and thinking about it became two very separate things, and now that they were to discuss it, something just beneath Elphaba's ribcage felt like it was tearing up.
"Glinda, don't be ridiculous. You've so many responsibilities to govern Oz. You'll be abandoning an entire population that solely depending on you. You've abandoned your position for the better part of a year, with no information on whether any disasters have occurred yet. Merlin knows that Oz will fall apart if you stay here any longer. Radicals to the Wizard, or even someone like the Wizard or Morrible could find power."
It was only logical and right, but Glinda refused to accept the facts in her heart, at least. It seemed the universe was determined to force the two of them to be alone. She took Elphaba's hand hopefully.
"Come back with me!" she suggested, although they knew well that answer wasn't feasible. "You could stay in the palace; Lurline knows how many unnecessary rooms it has. Until I finish clearing your name, you can hide out there and I won't leave."
"No." Elphaba pulled her hand back. "That's that idea you and I both know would never work. I mean, if you were to clear my name, what exactly is it you'd say? 'The Wicked Witch was actually framed, sorry for that teeny inconvenience. Oh yeah, and did I mention she's hiding out in the palace because she's my lover?' That would go over well with the audience, I'm sure."
"But Elphie-" Glinda protested.
"Glinda," Elphaba extended her hand to take Glinda's, as though it was her turn. "I don't belong to Oz anymore. If you try to change that, someone will hurt you, and I would never forgive myself. Besides, it's not like we'll never see each other again."
"I want to be where you are. I belong with you, Elphaba, I belong to you. You deserve to be happy, so there's a simple way to fix this. If you can't come back, I simply won't go back," said the blonde in vain, though her eyes were fiery and she was looking at Elphaba in a way that indicated she was pleading.
Elphaba smiled sadly. "You know you can't just do that. You have success and responsibility in Oz, too much to throw away here. I myself have responsibility here to attend to."
Glinda caught Elphaba's eyes, the green witch reluctant, since that begging expression was still on the blonde's face. "Elphie, it's two different worlds. It's accepting it that hard – I don't want to be away from you."
"Neither do I, Glinda." She squeezed the blonde's hand. "Perhaps we've always belonged to two different worlds. Um… when-when do you think you're going to leave?"
"I've one last responsibility here that you've overlooked," Glinda said pointedly.
Elphaba raised an eyebrow expectantly, unable to think up an answer. "Which would be?"
"Harry," Glinda answered. "I want to make sure he'll be okay. Until he wakes up, he's under not only Madame Pomphrey's care, but mine as well. I can't believe you wish me to shirk!"
Elphaba couldn't help but smile wryly, not protesting the answer. It was an excuse to prolong their separation, although there was some truth to it. To an outsider, it may even seem logical. A part of Elphaba, the selfish part, wanted Glinda to stay with her until the end of their lives, and that seemed fitting, but obligation overpowered desire.
"That sounds good," she agreed, nodding. She was willing to keep Glinda in England for as long as possible. Who knew? Maybe there would be a way of communication between them, if they were lucky. Elphaba reminded herself to research that.
June gave way to July, the days slipping rapidly by, like grabbing a fistful of sand and watching it pour between your fingers. Harry was still committed to bed, unconscious. He probably wouldn't be awake for his twenty-sixth birthday at the end of the month, as hypothesized by Madame Pomphrey. Meanwhile, life in the castle adapted to the new environments of change and went on as normal.
To keep themselves preoccupied, Glinda and Elphaba made bets on when Fiyero and Hermione would come forward about their relationship. They avoided their own inevitable break up by sniggering like schoolgirls when they purposely looked and found Hermione and Fiyero steal glances at dinner and through the day.
July was nearing its end, and the couple was feeling cheated. "I don't think he'll ever tell us now," Glinda whined. "I mean, he messes up the two of us and won't even let us mock his stabilized relationship in public."
"Maybe he's too much of a child to admit to being normal," Elphaba suggested. Finally, one day in last July, Fiyero asked to talk to Elphaba in private.
Coming up: A confession and a private talk.
Hmm...what do you think of Hermione/Fiyero? I think they'd go well with each other. Actually, I think Harry and Elphaba go well also, but Elphaba is with Glinda. Besides, in this story, I believe that Harry looks up to Elphaba more as an older sister than anything.
I'm done rambling now.
-Wolfie