"Natalie!" Al heard his mother say cheerfully. "We're so glad you could make it! And Mr. and Mrs. Livingston too, how nice of you to come." He could hear them all exchanging greetings, and then the light clomp, clomp of Ginny walking in her new heels to the base of the stairs.
"Al? Natalie's here!" She called up the stairwell. Al groaned and took another breath of the outside air. He hadn't been able to tell, from what he saw of her face, whether or not she had received his letter. Maybe Jules had been a bit slow and gotten there after she had left. He had been flying rather slowly lately; Al figured it was just old age. Jules was nine years old, after all.
"What are you waiting for?" A voice from behind him said. Whirling around, Al saw that all of his cousins had abandoned their cards and were now crammed in the narrow stairwell, trying to get onto the landing where there was much more space.
"What do you think you're doing?" He snapped at them. Rose, who was closest to him, looked taken aback. She glanced nervously at the others.
"We just want to meet Natalie. She is here to meet the rest of the family, right?"
"Yeah, but do you really all have to ambush her at once?" he replied, irritated, when what he really meant was: 'Do you really all have to be there when she screams at me for not having the guts to break up with her face-to-face?'
"Jeez, Al, we just want to meet her." Molly said, picking at her cuticles. Al swore at her under his breath, then sighed in frustration.
"Fine! But don't be rude and obnoxious and freak her out." He glared meaningfully at James, who shrugged and gave him a "Who, me?" look. Al raised his eyebrows to show him he wasn't buying his innocent act, then, fixing the rest of them with a death stare, he started down the stairs. He could hear their footsteps as they all tumbled out of the tiny stairwell behind him, Fred swearing loudly as someone (probably Molly) stepped on him.
"Al! Are you – oh, there you are, dear." Ginny said, smiling at him as he entered the kitchen. "Natalie's in the sitting room, with her parents." Al gulped. He had only met Natalie's parents once, and very briefly. Both had been very nice at the time, but he felt that the circumstances might be a little different tonight.
Swallowing, Al stepped around his mother. She gave him a small, sad smile, then, with the enthusiasm of a death row prisoner walking to the gallows, Al pushed open the door and entered the sitting room.
As Al stepped onto the light green carpet of the sitting room, his whole family, who had gathered to meet his 'girlfriend', looked round. Great. Now everyone would know what a coward he was. He spied Natalie, who was sitting on the arm of one of the overstuffed pea-green chairs.
"Al!" She said, leaping off the chair. Al braced himself for the explosion of hexes sure to be thrown at him, but it never came. Instead, he felt arms being thrown around him, and a pair of lips grazed his cheek. Surprised, he opened his eyes to find Natalie embracing him, and, confused, he put his arms around her in a sort of half-hug. Releasing him, Natalie held his hand and pulled him over to her parents, who were standing in between Uncle Percy and Nana Molly.
"Mum, Dad, you remember Al, don't you?" Natalie's father extended his hand.
"Hello, nice to see you again, Al."
"Nice to see you, too, Mr. Livingston." Al shook his hand, feeling utterly bemused.
"Please, call me Paul." Natalie's father was tall and wiry, with brown hair that was starting to thin on the top. His green eyes were kind, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was wearing a pressed, light-purple plaid, button down shirt and dark-wash jeans – as the Livingstons were Muggles, they only wore robes when in public wizarding places such as Diagon Alley. Paul gestured to the woman next to him. "This is my wife, I don't know if you remember–?"
"I'm Marianne." Natalie's mother shook his hand, too. She looked a lot like Natalie, with shoulder-length dark curls and blue eyes, but she was shorter than both her husband and daughter. She wore a simple, sleeveless, dark blue dress cut just above her knees, with a pretty black belt accentuating her tiny waist.
"Nice to see you again, um, have you met my parents?" Al asked.
"Yes, we met your mother, but I'm afraid I didn't see your father...?" Marianne trailed off. She glanced at the group of redheaded people clustered around them. Harry, at the back of the room, pushed his way forwards.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, I'm Al's father, Harry." He extended his hand, and both shook it. Marianne, glancing at Harry's dark hair, green eyes, and glasses, shot a look at her daughter.
"Nat, what did you say Al's last name was, again?"
"Potter," Natalie replied. "Why?" Immediately, all the Weasleys shifted uncomfortably, and Harry quietly cleared his throat.
"Um, no reason, just because, er...if you're sure it's Potter, then, you're...you must be… Harry Potter." Marianne said, realization dawning. Her face turned a mottled pink as her eyes raked Harry's forehead, settling on the bolt of red that could be seen through a gap in his fringe. Everyone went silent, waiting to see how Harry would handle the situation. Al coughed, trying to diffuse the tension that had suddenly settled over the room, but at the same time, Natalie cried out.
"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?" she shrieked, turning to Al. "Your dad is Harry Potter, and you never thought to tell me?" She turned back to Harry. "My parents never knew of you when they were growing up, of course, as they're Muggles, but I'm very fascinated with your story. I've read a lot about you, you're mentioned at least once in all of my schoolbooks! I can't believe Al never mentioned it!" She grinned, her face flushing. Harry winced at this, but managed to cover it with an expression of pleasant surprise. Al crossed his arms.
"Why does it matter who my father is? You should like me for me." He said indignantly. Natalie blushed.
"Oh, Al, it doesn't matter to me, it's just…I never put it all together: your last name, your father's approximate age, everything…" She looked anxiously from Al to Harry, the latter of whom cleared his throat and addressed Natalie's parents.
"I am terribly sorry; I don't usually introduce myself by my full name, for these reasons exactly. It does get rather embarrassing to have people freak out a bit when they realize my last name. But I assure you, my name makes me no different as a man than it would if I had I been born an Evans, or, God forbid, a Dursley."
"Hear, hear!" said Uncle George, and both Nana Molly and Aunt Angelina elbowed him. Marianne blushed even deeper and held on to her husband's arm.
"Of course, Mr. Potter, it just caught us by surprise...Natalie never mentioned it to us…"
"Only because Al never told me his dad is Harry Potter! Don't you think that's an important part of his life he's not sharing with me?" Natalie stomped her foot, then immediately seemed to regret her outburst, as Ginny rushed forwards and put her hand protectively on her husband's arm.
"I must ask you, Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, to please not think any different of our family due to this recent, er…revelation. Names and statuses have no meaning to us in our household." She glared at Natalie, who looked at her feet ashamedly.
A silence settled over the room like a blanket; Al had been standing there stupidly with his mouth half open, and Paul was blinking rather fast, clutching his wife's hand tightly. After a few moments, he held out his arm to Harry.
"I am so sorry that our first meeting began this way. Is there any way we could start again?" Harry, relieved, shook his hand firmly. Ginny did as well, although she was a bit reluctant.
"Well, then, now that that's settled, would anybody care for a drink?" Nana Molly bustled over with a few glasses of Firewhisky, and Marianne and Paul each took one, downing them in one sip. Then, following Molly over to where Hermione and Ron were standing, they began to engage in quiet conversation with them. Both Livingstons were obviously still a little ruffled, so it was Hermione who did most of the talking.
Gradually, the party started again, the adults going back to their conversations and the kids sneaking off to the kitchen for food. Al grabbed Natalie's arm and led her outside, so they could speak privately. He shut the back door firmly, checked for eavesdroppers (James had been known to listen in on many occasions), then turned to her.
"Look, Nat –" Al started, but Natalie silenced him by throwing her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. Startled, Al allowed himself to be pushed against the stone wall of the Burrow as she snogged him. For a few minutes, Al simply stood there, and finally, Natalie pulled back for air.
"What's wrong, Al? Why aren't you kissing me back?" She asked, sticking out her bottom lip and making a pouty face. Al hated when girls did that. "This isn't still about the whole dad thing, is it? Loosen up Al; I'm not mad about it. I was just surprised." She leaned in again, but Al pushed her away.
"Look, Nat, I need to tell you something. About the letter –"
"What letter?" She asked, trying to get his hands out of the way so she could kiss him again, but without much luck.
"The one I sent you earlier this morning...I just wanted to say, I didn't mean –" Al dodged her and slid a few feet down the wall, towards the door.
"I didn't get a letter. When did you send it?" She finally gave up trying to kiss him and leaned against the wall next to him, tracing circles in the dirt with the toe of her boot.
"About ten this morning – wait, you mean, you didn't get it?" Al asked, a grin slowly beginning to spread over his face.
"No, why? What did it say?" She looked at him, obviously alarmed at his sudden change of mood. He was almost laughing now, relief clearly showing in his eyes.
"Nothing, nothing at all – just that I missed you, and, er...I think you're beautiful." Al lied quickly. Natalie grinned, pushing herself off the wall and leaning over him. This time he didn't try to get away. Within a moment, her lips were a fraction of an inch away from his, her hair a curtain, shielding him from the rest of the world.
"Is that really what it said?" She asked, looking into his eyes. Al silently cursed himself as he replied,
"Of course. Why would I lie to you?" And as Natalie pressed her lips once more to his, he mentally kicked himself. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him:
Al! You can't keep toying with her emotions like this! You're gay, she's straight! It won't work!
But the larger, more irrational part of him was arguing over its smaller counterpart.
She wants you. You can't deny her what she wants. It wouldn't be fair.
And so, even though it was the last thing Al wanted to do, he kissed her until his lips bruised, one hand twined in her hair, the other on the small of her back, holding her to him. They kissed as many a round of Exploding Snap went by above them; by the sounds of it, Dom was winning way more hands than anyone else.
They kissed until the clock struck midnight, until Al was sure nothing could ruin this for him, not the fact that he wasn't even attracted to her, not the fact that he was gay, not even the letter.
Speak of the Devil, and the Devil shall come.
As luck would have it, just as Al thought about him, the Devil appeared, in the form of a tawny owl with a creamy envelope attached to one leg. He fluttered right up to Al's face, his feathers ruffling against Natalie's cheek.
"What's this?" Natalie asked, breaking the suction for a moment to grasp the letter and read the address. "It's for me?" She knit her brows. Al opened his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as he realized what she was holding.
"That's the letter...the one I sent you earlier..." Al replied slowly, horrified. He was still in a daze from the kiss, and tried to snatch it from her, but he was too slow.
"Oh! I must have already left my house by the time your owl got there. He must have gone back to your house when he couldn't find me, and then realized you were at your grandparents' house! What a smart owl!" Natalie said, twisting away from Al's flailing arms to let Jules nip gently at her finger.
Al tried to speak, but his throat had constricted with terror and he couldn't make a sound. Not noticing his panicked state and assuming he was merely still out of breath from their kiss, Natalie deftly slit the envelope with a flick of her wand and pulled out the parchment. Al screwed up his face, bracing for the worst.
For a few moments there was silence as Natalie read the letter, her frown deepening as she reached the end.
"I just don't see how it will work out? Trust me, it isn't you?" She looked up from the letter, confused. "I don't get it. Is this some kind of a joke?"
"No – I just – you don't understand –" Al stumbled over the words, trying not to look at the hurt look on her face. When she realized it wasn't a joke, Natalie's mouth opened in shock and her eyes widened.
"You're right, I don't understand!" She cried, throwing the parchment on the ground. "You don't even have a reason for breaking up with me! You 'don't think it will work out'! Well, I can tell you this, Albus Potter. We are done! I wish I never laid eyes on you! You are a spiteful, lying arse, and I don't know why I wasted my time with you!"
She started to flounce away, but just then, something fell from the sky and landed on her head, exploding and soaking her from head to toe. Looking up, Al saw a grinning James and Uncle George leaning out of the second floor window, holding more water balloons and getting ready to fire.
"Bombs away, little bro!" Before Al could say a word, James lobbed a purple balloon at him, and it exploded at his feet, drenching him as well. Roaring with laughter, Uncle George chucked a green one at Natalie, and two more quickly followed in its wake. Natalie screamed, trying to brush the water off of her pretty blue cardigan, but only succeeded in making the wet spots larger. Frustrated, she pulled out her wand and began siphoning it off, but George and James were still throwing balloons, chucking them almost as fast as James could conjure them. As more and more balloons exploded around her, Natalie shoved her wand back in her pocket and screamed.
"I HATE YOU, ALBUS POTTER!" She shouted, Apparating away with a loud crack. Al tried to chase after her, but once she disappeared, there was no way to trace where she had gone. Home, he assumed.
"Good one, James!" Uncle George cried, slapping James five as Al stood below them, shivering from cold and shaking with fury.
"James Potter, I am going to murder you!" He roared, pulling out his wand and shooting a hex towards him. James didn't get out his wand in time, and suddenly he was clutching his nose and howling, backing away from the window as Uncle George tried to figure out what Al had hit him with.
"It was just a joke, Al!" He called out the window. "A harmless prank!"
"Harmless? You call that harmless?" Al screamed. "THAT WAS NOT HARMLESS!"
Not sticking around to hear George's reply, he turned on the spot, Apparating into his bedroom. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed, sopping wet and freezing, and cried himself to sleep.
A/N: Please, please review! Are you interested in reading more? I really want to know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; I only own my plot and original characters. All other rights belong to J.K. Rowling.
