Chapter 9: The One Night
"Someone dropped a present for you." Draco said by way of greeting when Celine came downstairs he morning she was due to the Burrow.
"But it isn't Christmas yet."
"You truly are observant, Celine." Draco said. Celine could see his grey eyes above the book he was reading.
She rolled her eyes, "How'd it get here?"
Draco shrugged, flipping a page of his book. "It was in front of Thunder when I did rounds this morning."
"Are you sure you'll be okay with handling the secret Santa all by yourself?" Celine asked picking up the present from the coffee table. It felt heavy in her hands and was wrapped in a rich moss green wrapper, her name written in neat calligraphy on creamy white paper. The wrapper had some weight to it as Celine tore into it. Uneven fuzzy white strips curled to the floor its tips jagged and thin.
"Mead. Will you look at that?" Celine raised her eyebrows. Draco shrugged, "I wouldn't know anything about it."
"Come now, you're going to sit there and lie to me? You're Draco Malfoy, you must know something about mead." Celine sat down beside him. Their arms brushed by accident.
Eyes meeting for the briefest seconds.
Draco stood up before Celine could think of something suitable to say.
"I don't know why you'd assume that. I hope you enjoy your holidays." Draco straightened his sweater, leaving her sitting on the sofa alone.
Christmas morning.
Snow had started the night before.
Cold bitter air pierced through her mittens. Maybe she should have waited to open the presents with everyone else in the living room before going out. Mrs. Weasley often knitted a scarf or a pair of mittens alongside the usual sweaters.
But she couldn't wait that long.
Celine needed to see him.
From the moment they got to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had kept her under close scrutiny. Each spare moment dedicated to baking, cleaning and wrapping last minute gifts. Bill and Fleur would be visiting on Christmas Day while Charlie and Percy had arrived a day earlier.
Snow crunched under her boots as Celine made her way down the familiar path.
4 a.m.
This was the only time, the first time she's been left to her own devices. A stream of warm air condensing into vapors from the cold reminded her of being alive.
Cold snow seeped into the knees of her corduroys. Unlike the tombstones around, it looked as if someone had been there recently. A knitted scarf in bright orange dressed the semi-oblong tombstone, clear of any snow or debris. A wreath peppered with large flowers that reminded Celine of blood droplets war propped up against the base. There was also a string of Christmas lights wrapped around it, illuminating its surroundings in a relay of green and red.
"Hi babe." Celine placed the cone of irises she'd gotten from the farmer's market in Diagon Alley. Last minute Christmas shopping was always fun. Harry and Ron clutching parchments with their shopping list, Hermione insisting she needed a new set of quills from the emporium and Celine trying to discretely pull her away without giving away the fact that she'd already gotten it as a Christmas present for her and Mrs. Weasley's steely intent to keep everyone together.
"You-Know-Who is dead Mum." Ron complained. "It's daft for us all to stick together when we can shop twice as fast if we split up."
"I don't care. It's my family and my rules. You can dictate all you want when you have your own family Ronald Weasley."
Celine inadvertently glanced at Hermione knowing full well that any romantic notions Hermione harbored for Ron had been stomped out when he abandoned them in the woods hardly a year later on their Horcrux hunt.
"Hardly a year." Celine murmured. Fingers traced the engraved name on marble. "Hermione and I are trying to figure out a way. I can't…I can't just sit here and believe that…that you're gone. There has to be a way. The Department of Mysteries couldn't be the only place where Time-Turners are kept. That's just stupid…they have to have a backup somewhere. Who invented Time-Turners anyway?
I've been seeing you…almost every day. But if…you were a ghost. Why would you not come and see me by now?" Celine sighed.
Tears prickled her eyes. The sky was slowly brightening. Dusty pink. Inky purple and powder blue.
"I miss you."
Her voice just below a whisper. Frozen tears clung to her eyelashes.
Boxing Day came much too soon in Celine's opinion, memories of the previous day still playing in her mind. Marc had surprised her by arriving at the Burrow just after Christmas brunch with an armful of Christmas presents. He'd gotten everyone something but for Celine herself, a gorgeous lily cluster Harry Winston diamonds to call her own. She'd know the maker anywhere. His work being impeccable master pieces, Celine had fallen in love with his designs since she saw them at the Muggle natural history museum in London when they were having an exhibition.
But having her father there on Christmas Day, even if it was just for a couple of hours was perhaps the best gift Celine gotten that day. There were the usual snacks and sweets from Hagrid, a mint colored knit sweater with an image of a grey cauldron on it, books and beauty products including an expensive permanganate and citrus perfume and lotion set from George.
"I think you missed one." Ginny pointed at a small box wrapped in a familiar rich moss colored wrapper which held a thin black leather bracelet with a glass emerald stone set in the middle. The card was simply signed 'DM'.
"Who's it from?" Hermione asked.
Celine didn't know why she felt the strong urge to cover the card from Hermione's gaze. "A friend. From Beauxbaton."
"Why are you looking like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're hiding something. You're lying aren't you? Tell us who the bracelet is really from then."
"I'm not. You're being paranoid."
Celine turned in her camp bed, watching the heavy torrent of snowflakes fall from the sky some zooming in straight lines pulled down by gravity, others swaying this way and that caught in the wind's strong current. The glass setting of the emerald felt cool against her skin.
Funnily enough though they never talked about it, Celine had also gotten a Christmas present for Draco. A whole bag of premium roasted coffee beans from the jungles of Indonesia, the label promising rich decadent smoothness with each cup.
Today George had promised to take her to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes branch in Diagon Alley where his and Fred's original apartment was located.
"One of our busiest days, Boxing Day. Kids returning their gifts and buying our products with the money they get back." George explained. "You'd get to see how the shop runs under normal circumstance without the holiday lull."
Mrs. Weasley sent them off with a picnic basket filled with turkey sandwiches and thermals filled with broccoli cheddar soup. There was already a line forming outside of the joke shop when they Apparated a street away.
A taller girl with thick hair in braids approached them as George unlocked the front door. Celine recognized her immediately.
"Angelina! What are you doing here?" Celine asked.
"Didn't George tell you? He hired me to work the shop with him. What are you doing here?"
"Oh…kinda the same…reason. Filling in…the potioneer's spot." Celine caught herself. Fred's name like a kiss on her lips.
"You were right. Things were getting hectic. I mean…" George gestured towards the growing line. "Celine, if you could help brew some hot chocolate for the customers while we set up the shop?"
Celine glanced between the two of them. We meant him and Angelina.
"Uhh…sure thing."
The day passed by quickly. Celine never fancied children but could see why George loved working in a joke shop. Seeing a kid's face light up with pleasure as the fake wands turned into rubber chickens or the horrified mixed with astonishment looks from parents upon seeing their child turn into a canary for three seconds after eating a canary cream sampler was satisfying. The sweets section of the shop ran out at a rate of two hours sometimes sooner and Celine slowly came into realization. It was an ingenious plan that George had, having an on-site potioneer slash baker meant that they could keep up with the customer's demands on the spot without losing money, it was also cost effective in a way that didn't waste inventory and customers would always be getting fresh candy. It was genius.
By the time it was nearing closing hours Celine felt confident that she could make every flavor of the Skiving Snackboxes in her sleep.
"Angie, why don't you clock out early? Celine and I can handle closing the shop." George said, locking the door behind their last customer.
Angelina looked between the two with narrowed eyes. "I guess I could…you did well today Celine."
But there was something in her expression that made Celine turn away, busying herself with the till's drawer. "Thanks Angelina."
There was no way she was going to be comfortable with calling her 'Angie'.
"So you didn't mention Angelina started working here." Celine hated how accusatory her tone sounded. George is after all in perfect liberty to hire whomever he pleases.
"You were right Celine, the store got a little overwhelming without Verity. I thought I told you this?"
Celine shrugged crumpling up pieces of greasy parchment paper while simultaneously supervising the self-cleaning cauldrons. "Did you make a lot of profit today?"
"Decent amount. Better than last year's lot definitely." George pointed out.
A heavy silence settled between the two. Both instantly reminded of the year before.
"I wish I got to spend more time with him." Celine said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"He missed you a lot…when you were away."
"It was lonely."
Another pause.
"We're done here." George said putting the money away in what Celine recognized as being one of Hagrid's leather pouch creations with mammoth sized sharp teeth around the neck. "I'll whip us up some dinner in the apartment."
"Shouldn't we go back to the Burrow?"
"Mum knows we're having dinner here. I told her not to expect us back. If that's okay."
Celine felt caught off guard. On one hand, she didn't see what was wrong about having dinner and just spending the night at George's –and Fred's dammit Celine he's dead! – apartment, it had been a tiring day while the other hand, she was terrified. She wasn't sure if staying the night would be a good idea. She thought of Rascal running around in the Burrow, probably wondering where she was. He always slept in the crook of her arm after all.
"I mean if she's alright with it. I don't want her to think I'm purposely avoiding her hospitality."
"Rubbish. She won't mind." George locked the entrance behind them.
The scent of honeyed grilled chicken filled the kitchen. Celine stood at the island supervising the knife cutting colorful bell peppers and spring onions.
"Do you have some ginger? I think it'll go well with the honey."
George laughed. "I don't think you understand how 'I'll cook for you' works. It means you sit by the island with preferably this in hand instead of this." George exchanged Celine's wand with a sangria glass. A burst of lovely white peach combined with the sour acidity of wine danced across her tongue. "I just wanted to help." Celine grinned while pretending her eyes weren't drawn to Fred's bedroom door every couple of seconds.
"I've…been in there a couple of times. I…miss him too."
Celine nodded. "Of course."
"You can go in if you'd like. I haven't moved anything. Just…dusted." George massaged the back of his neck. Celine missed the long hairstyles that the twins used to have when they had been in school.
"Dinner will be done soon." Celine said.
"Oh for Merlin's sake Celine." George chuckled.
Firewhiskey and honey went well together. The cooling spell George knew from some previous joke shop experiment proved useful for Celine's orange and chocolate mousse to set. There was a cozy feeling that enveloped the apartment with the fire crackling in the ornate fireplace.
"I'll sleep in here tonight." Celine declared, fluffing up the pillow behind her head. Her body felt like it had melded together with the sofa the cool leather against her skin was so relaxing.
"No, no. You should take my bed. Unless you want…"George's gaze strayed to Fred's door.
Celine's stomach lurched at the idea.
"I don't think I could."
"So you'll stay in my room then. I can't ask a guest…"
"George, I'm fine. Really. The sofa is comfy. And there's your Mum's blanket to keep me warm in case the fire burns out in the night." Celine insisted. She wrapped Mrs. Weasley's knitted blanket around herself to prove her point.
"Okay well, I'm only a door away if you need anything." George said.
From the moment George left Celine on her own in the living room with the dimmed fire she was wide-awake. The shadows seemed to have taken on lives of their own. A strange orb-shaped light caught her attention. It was illuminating from within itself, drifting and eventually stopping in front of Fred's door. Celine was immediately reminded of Hermione's Muggle ghost stories that she used to tell in the Gryffindor tower. Lavender and Parvati would refuse to listen but eavesdropped anyway and would always shriek unhappily whenever the main character got murdered.
Murdered.
Celine's curiosity thumped in her head like a rabbit's foot. It didn't help that every time she tried to close her eyes it felt like the orb somehow grew brighter so it felt like she was trying to sleep under an afternoon sun instead.
"I shouldn't be doing this." Celine muttered to herself, a heavy dread settling in her stomach. She cast a wary eye at George's bedroom door, tiptoeing past, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards.
The door opened quietly much to her surprise. Immediately Celine was overwhelmed with the scent of teakwood. George hadn't lied. It looked like nothing had been moved since the last time Celine had been in there. But when she ran her finger across the dresser's surface, it came away dust-free. But the bed was still unmade, as if Fred would be bursting through the front door at any moment. As if he'd lie on it again.
Celine thought that the cream colored sheets reminded her of the stiff tops of burnt meringue fresh from the oven.
There were photo frames on his nightstand, one of the entire Weasley family – the other a photo of them spending Christmas together at Grimmauld Place. Their last Christmas together.
They were laughing in the picture, Celine with a tankard of Butterbeer in hand and Fred with his arm around her, twirling her around and spilling the Butterbeer down the side of her hand.
Celine replaced the photo frame as her eyes burned with unshed tears.
"What are you thinking about?" Fred asked, tucking Celine under the blanket with him. They had stolen away from Grimmauld Place. Mere moments after the picture was taken.
"I'm thinking that I never want to leave." Celine smiled. Fred kissed her gently. Her smile grew against his lips.
"I wish that could come true. Tell me, are you really intent on finishing Hogwarts?"
"Yes." Celine said carefully choosing her words. Her fingers drifted over his hands, his broad shoulders hunched around her made her feel disconnected from the outside world. If only. "It was the one thing Mama ever wanted me to do. Finish Hogwarts." His skin felt warm beneath her touch.
"Well let's just enjoy the time we have for now then." Fred kissed the crown of her head. She could hear him inhaling deeply.
They talked through the night. Fantasized about having a cottage in the middle of a forest, by a river, Fred wanted three kids, she didn't care as long as they had a sweet cat and a dog too. Celine remembered listening to his heart beat. Remembered the touch of his fingers against her skin, his kisses trailed a pathway between her breasts down her stomach and the waistband of her delicate underwear.
"Celine what are you doing?"
"I'm sorry." She leapt to her feet. "I didn't mean…"
"No, no. I was just…worried. I didn't know where you went." George closed the door behind him. "I'm glad you're…okay."
Celine shook her head. Smiled through her tears.
"You're a terrible liar George."
"It got a smile, didn't it?"
Shadows cast his face in profile, the moonlight picking out distinct features. His forehead, his eyes, his nose with a small scar – had that always been there?- the curve of his lips. A small part of her wondered if he'd taste like Fred too? Would his kiss cause her knees to go weak and the butterflies to rage a storm in her stomach?
Their lips touched for the briefest moment just as she was about to give herself completely into it when her eyes caught sight of something standing behind his shoulder. A figure, identical to George except for the fact that this figure was tinged grey. Like he'd been dead.
Celine jerked backwards.
"I'm sorry George…I can't…" Celine stood up, flustered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I'm sorry…"
"Stop, please." George grabbed her arms that were frantically wringing themselves.
"We're only fooling ourselves."
He let go of her.
"George…I'm sorry…"
"Please…stop. Don't make me this harder." George finally said. "Just go back to sleep."
Celine fell silent aware that something inside her was breaking but also knew it was for the best.
She didn't know how long she laid on the sofa awake or how long George had stayed in Fred's room but when she finally opened her eyes, dusty rose colored sunrays penetrated through the slits of the blinds in the living room. The door to George's bedroom left ajar. Fred's door shut firmly.
She sat up hearing soft clinks of metal against ceramic.
"Did I wake you?"
"No. I…was waking up. Why are you awake so early?"
"Should probably get you back to the Burrow in case Mum is wondering where you are." George said handing her a mug of fresh brewed tea.
"George…about last night. I'm sorry. But it's wrong. You know that."
"No, I don't. I don't understand why-…"
"Because we both…we don't really feel that way about each other. We're just…trying to fill a void-"
"And how do you know that, Celine? How can you possibly know how I feel for you?"
"Because-…"
"You're the only person he truly loved. You were a part of him."
"And so are you. You're his twin. I can't believe you would even think…oh Morgana…I can't believe you would think that somehow…I could even replace you."
George fell silent.
"George."
"You should get ready."
When they arrived at the Burrow Celine immediately sensed something amiss. The curtains were drawn and the back door that was usually propped open to invite guests was shut. Even the gang of gnomes that normally played at the end of the garden weren't there.
Celine entered through the kitchen door. "Is something wrong?"
Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley had a handkerchief in one hand, in the other Celine could just make out a black envelope.
"Oh Celine, Arthur told me what it means-"
"What? What, what means?" Celine took the envelope that she was proffering with a shaky hand. Celine glanced at George. He had his arm around Mrs. Weasley's shoulders, patting the poor woman gently. Harry and Hermione stood up both looking at a loss for words. Embossed on the front of the envelope is the Ministry's emblem.
Celine Helena Van Allen,
We are deeply saddened to inform you that at 8.12pm last night, your father Marc Thomas Van Allen was found murdered in his private rooms. A full investigation has been launched-…