Part 13 - Friday After Next

The date was Friday, December 11th, 1994 and over two weeks had passed since I came home. I was living at the Burrow, with Mrs. Weasley fussing over me constantly, with Remus and Tonks going out of their ways to visit as often as possible. I was doing alright but no one was really telling me anything about anything--including where the fuck my dad was and how he'd escaped--and I still hadn't gotten up the courage to write the twins.

That's what I tried to do every day. I would wake up, roll out of Fred's bed and go sit at his desk. I would stare down at a blank sheet of parchment and search my brain for the right words.

Because they couldn't just be any words. I knew how much I must've hurt the twins when I left, how worried and scared they must've been. I had to say sorry and I had to show them that I was getting better. I'd been trying for weeks to find the words.

On the morning of Friday, December 11th, 1994, I solved the problem.

"Dear Twinses," I began, smiling broadly over the genius of my plot, "For the most amazing surprise of either or your wildly amusing lives, be inside the Shrieking Shack at midnight tonight. Love, you know who."

I surveyed my words, thought about them for a moment, and then hastily added, "(Not You-Know-Who, but you do know who)."

Satisfied, I sent the letter off with Errol and flounced downstairs for breakfast.

xxXxx

I had an appointment with my new shrink that afternoon. I really could have done without him but I promised Remus that I would go. He was still worried and only wanted to make sure I was healthy and safe so I didn't see any particular harm in playing a few games of twenty questions with some suit.

And the second he suggested medicating me, I had permission to knee him in the goodies and storm out. It was my condition for agreeing to see him.

Well, that and his name could under absolutely no circumstances be punny.

Mrs. Weasley accompanied me to the office, fretting and hovering kindly, trying to tug down the hem of my skirt and muttering about how she wished I would have worn something warmer. I was fine though. I had my leather jacket and that was keeping me plenty toasty.

The office was nice, simply decorated in blues and browns. This guy, Dr. Fairchild, was supposed to have a pretty good reputation but that really didn't mean much to me. I mean, the magical psychiatric community wasn't very big. In fact, I'd been warned that, after him, I didn't have many options for mental health professionals left in England before I'd have to start looking in other countries.

But, as I sat there for ten minutes waiting for my appointment to start, I tried and failed to think of a pun for his name and that was good enough to begin with.

"Stella Black?" I heard, looking up to see a stocky older man with graying hair and a push-broom moustache smiling from out of an open doorway.

"Present," I chirped, not bothering to get up until Mrs. Weasley dragged me up. She and my new shrink shared introductions and pleasantries for a few moments before I found myself being escorted inside an office that had the same color scheme as the waiting room.

I plopped down in one of two big, squishy arm chairs placed around a low coffee table in the center of the room, folding my arms across my chest and watching as the good doctor poured himself a cup of tea.

"How are you today, Stella?" He asked pleasantly, smiling over his shoulder, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thanks," I responded curtly, "Been sober for seven months now."

He chuckled beneath his breath, declaring, "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of some tea or cocoa but that certainly is nice to hear."

I shrugged, uncrossing and crossing my legs as he took his seat. "Just thought we could get right to it," I told him, "You're supposed to make sure I'm not completely bonkers anymore so that everyone will stop worrying. The quicker I can convince you, the quicker I can be done with all this head shrinking nonsense."

Dr. Fairchild hummed quietly and sipped his tea. "I understand you didn't really get along with your previous doctors," He remarked, setting the cup down on the table and picking up a clipboard. He read it for a few moments before asking, "Can you tell me why that was?"

"Because the first one was too ridiculous to take seriously," I laughed, "I mean, honestly, a four-foot-something shrink named Dink? What in the hell was she thinking when she made that career choice?"

Fairchild cracked a slightly reluctant smile.

Continuing on, I growled, "And that fuck Shokter, he was just a sadist. Did you know he left me tied to a bed for like two weeks?"

"Yes," Fairchild replied gravely, "I have detailed records of your treatment. Dr. Shokter has some... outdated theories about patient care. I'm afraid he and I have very different opinions about what is helpful and what is harmful in working towards recovery."

"Well, that makes you my favorite so far," I joked, brushing a short shock of blonde out of my eyes. We sat in tense silence for a few moments before I finally asked, "So what's the deal? How many times do I have to show up here and act sane before you'll sign off on me?"

Smiling softly, Fairchild responded, "I'm afraid that's not how this works. The only person who can truly decide whether or not you're healthy is you."

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, questioning, "You're saying that, if I tell you I'm tip-top, then you'll just let me go?"

"No one's forcing you to be here," He stated, pausing briefly when I snorted in disbelief, "However, if you can honestly tell me you are healthy, that you have absolutely no issues you would like to resolve here with me, then, yes, I will not expect you back. Can you say that about yourself, Stella?"

Shrugging, I chirped, "No, not really, but, in all fairness, I wasn't completely right even before this whole mess started and I always seemed to manage somehow..." I paused for a few moments, looking at the clipboard and the thick stack of papers attached to it. Jutting my chin forward, I asked, "So that's my file?"

The doctor nodded.

"You read it?" I pressed, craning my neck in an attempt to get another look. I'd seen it when the girls and I broke into Dr. Dick's office back at the asylum, but that was before I went all vegetable and there had undoubtedly been some new additions.

Again, the doctor nodded.

"Hmm," I hummed thoughtfully, "In your professional opinion, am I as fucked up as everyone seems to think?"

"No, Stella," Fairchild responded kindly, "I admit that your history does give me some cause for concern but, right now, talking to you I can see you've already made great progress on your own and that proves strength, resilience, and will. Seven months of self-imposed sobriety is one of the most positive things you could have told me about yourself."

I gave a humble shrug, blushing a bit against my own resilient will.

"At the same time," He went on, "I do have some concerns, especially regarding your tendency to slip into self-destructive behaviors when you get upset or depressed. One of the main goals I would set for you is to make an effort towards finding a more positive outlet for your negative feelings. Talking with me is one way to do that, or with a someone else you trust. I know you resent having to come to these sessions, but, really, they're a great asset. You can tell me anything, things you would never admit otherwise for fear of being judged or ostracized. I only want to help you feel good about yourself and your life, and nothing you say in pursuit of that will ever leave this room."

I had to admit that he definitely gave a far better welcoming speech than any of my doctors so far. And he did have some good points. Talks with shrinks are privileged communications; I could finally get everyting out and off my chest and none of it could hurt me. None of it could hurt the people I loved.

"Alright, Doc," I declared, having decided to give this therapy thing one last shot, "Where should I start?"

xxXxx

It felt good, you know? Finally getting things off my chest without having to worry about what anyone would think of me. I loved my family and the few friends I had but... telling them about the sex and the drinking and... Claire... I just didn't want them to look at me and only see those things, see my mistakes and my traumas.

After just one session with Dr. Fairchild, I felt... better... I was going to go back again. We had decided that twice a week appointments would be a good start and I could add or subtract to them whenever I felt the need.

Whenever I felt the need. Being in control suddenly made the idea of having to see a shrink a lot more bearable.

I went back to the Burrow in a good mood, chatted happily through dinner. Remus and Tonks came over; both had their spirits lifted by my progress, even if it was just agreeing to make a serious effort in therapy. They were happy. I was happy.

I waited until Mr. and Mrs. W. went to bed and snuck out of the house. I flew to London and flooed from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogsmeade. I was an hour early but I still went straight for the Shrieking Shack to wait for the twins.

They were already there waiting for me.

"STELLA!!" I heard a pair of deep voices cry out just seconds before I was tackled roughly to the floor, smothered with hugs and kisses as the twins babbled enthusiastically.

"One at a time, boys, one at a time," I laughed, unable to make out any sort of meaning in their jumbled words. It didn't really matter because I had them back.

"We were so worried about you," Fred finally breathed, face buried against my neck and burly body wrapped entirely around mine. George was casually brushing his hands against my sides, trying to gauge if I'd been eating regularly by how many ribs he could count. "Gave us quite a scare, Stel," he remarked quietly, voice heavily laden with emotion.

"I know," I told them, close to tears because I was happy but knew that I had hurt my best friends and that was not ok. "I'm sorry," I told them, sniffling and squeezing both brawny redheads tight, "I-I was really messed up. I didn't mean to make you guys have to be afraid for me but I'm a lot better now."

"You look it," George reported, sharing one of those Significant Glances with his brother over my shoulder before turning a blinding smile at me, "We're just glad to have you back, love."

"So glad," Fred agreed, still not bothering to pick his face up out of my neck . I could feel wetness against my skin and his arms tightened by the second until I could barely breathe, "But you know you're going to have to tell us everything now, right? What was wrong, where you went, what you've been doing..."

I sighed heavily, toying with the fringe at the nape of his neck. "I know," I answered, "I-I'll try... I'll tell you as much as I can."

"And don't ever leave us again?" He begged, finally looking up. His blue eyes were wide and watery and... more beautiful than I remembered. They took my breath away and I answered without thinking, swearing, "Never."

xxXxx

We talked all night and well into the next morning without even realizing. I didn't tell them everything but I told them most of it, why I drank the sleeping potions, why I went all catatonic. I told them how Claire and I broke out of the nuthouse and that she'd died on accident. It was my fault but it was an accident and that was all they needed to hear. They believed me completely.

I told them about my journey through Africa, about... getting myself together. I told them about coming home to the Burrow, hiding out, and how Charlie found me. I told them that I'd been back for awhile, that I'd been at the first task but was too much of a chicken to seek out my favorite twins in the world.

"Should've known better than to be scared of little old us," George giggled, toying with my toes as Fred hugged me against his chest. We'd made a small nest out of shredded pillows and blankets and curled up there for my story.

"Really," Fred mouthed against my ear, "Don't care what your hair looks like or if you're crazier than a Quibbler subscriber. Just want our Stella."

My eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry," I sniffled, "I really, really am. I-I- messed up big... and I'm going to find some way to make it up to you someday. I swear I will."

They both laughed, George tickling the bottom of my foot and making me giggle and squirm. "Just don't leave us again and we'll call it even," He beamed. Fred gave a resolute nod, hugging me tighter. He'd been a bit quite, seeming more than content to simply cuddle me to death and occasionally grunt half sentences agreeing with whatever his brother was saying.

Smiling at them both, I replied, "I think I can manage that."

"So," George began impishly, "You free to be my date for the Yule Ball?"

"What?" Fred and I both squeaked at once.

Giving us both a strange look, George continued, "I need a date for the Yule Ball. And since you're my favorite non-related female member of the opposite sex, you're just perfect to fill the position." He pouted sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes and cooing, "Please?"

It was harder than hell to resist that look. "I dunno," I told him seriously, "I... I don't think I can go back to Hogwarts."

"It'll be better," He announced, "The day after you... everyone found out that it was really Neville who let your dad into the Tower. He wrote down the password for himself and then lost it. He got a howler from his grandmother in the Great Hall, and a lot of people felt really horrible for how they'd jumped to conclusions and treated you because of it. We got a lot of apologies that were meant for you."

"Doesn't change anything," I muttered sadly, "They still... how can I be around people who have done and said what they have to me? It just doesn't seem right."

"Think about it, love," George urged, offering a bright smile, "You know we won't let anyone hurt you. And, besides, you don't want me to be a dateless wonder along with Ron and Harry, do you?"

I looked over my shoulder at Fred, raising a speculative eyebrow. He blushed hotly.

"Freddiekins asked Angelina the other day," George offered in way of explanation, seeming to be thoroughly enjoying teasing his brother.

"Wouldn't have if I knew you were coming back," He told me, burying his pouting face against my neck again, "Want you more."

My prescription for ensuring the mental health of everyone on earth is just that they all hear those words, spoken with sincerity and love, at regular intervals. I filled up with so many warm fuzzies that I thought I was going to burst.

"Well, you can't flake on Angelina," I scolded, snuggling into his arms, "And... I guess I can't let Georgie go unsupervised. Merlin knows what kind of trouble he might get into."

The twin in question flashed me a wide smile. "Awesome," He chirped, "I'm so going to win the hottest date award."

I laughed and that felt too good to describe.

xxXxx

I didn't leave the twins until late in the day. Even then, I didn't want to but I'd stayed longer than I meant to and I knew that Mrs. Weasley must've been going out of her mind. We said our heartfelt goodbyes and I promised to come visit again in a few days.

By the time I got back to the Burrow, Remus, Tonks, and three aurors who owed favors to my cousin were also there and they were going nuts trying to find me. When he saw me coming up the walk, Remus bolted to meet me.

"Stella," He growled, immediately seizing me tight into his arms, "Where in the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry," I answered, hugging him back, "I didn't mean to stay out so long. I-I thought I'd be back before anyone noticed."

"You can't just disappear like that," He murmured, shaking from some combination of anger and relief that came through clearly in his soothing tenor voice, "We've been worried sick. We didn't know where you were of if you... if you were alright."

"I'm sorry," I repeated, guilt tripping like whoa and unable to comprehend how I'd ended up with and managed to keep all these wonderful people who cared so much for me despite everything I'd done. "I-I- went to Hogsmeade," I admitted quietly, "I had to see the twins."

Remus sighed, still hugging me like he was never going to let go as Tonks stood just a few feet away waiting anxiously for her turn. "Please," He said," Don't run off again without telling someone where you're going."

"Ok," I promised solemnly.

xxXxx

The next week or so was uneventful. I still wasn't getting a full story about my dad from anyone and that was frustrating but to be expected. I mean, no one really told me anything even before I went mental.

I kept sessions with Dr. Fairchild and... he was kind of nice to talk to... like a benevolent grandparent. He didn't talk down to me or treat me like a whack job. He had my best interests at heart but, at the same time, he didn't let me get away with shit. He wanted his questions answered because I needed to talk about what I'd gone through and that was that. No arguing.

At the same time, I was in control concerning what topics we actually ventured towards each day. If there were subjects I just weren't ready for yet--Oliver, Claire, my mother, my father, my baby sister--I stayed away from them. He let me bide my time around the tougher stuff with the understanding that when I brought them up they would be completely disclosed. It was a system I could definitely live with.

I went a few times a week to see the twins, too, and sometimes just having them back made me ache with regret for all those months we spent apart. They were truly my best friends and I never wanted to be without them again. I knew they loved me for just me, always ready with kisses and hugs and jokes.

The only bad thing about coming back was realizing that the bastards were once again taller than me, standing at six feet a piece as opposed to my five-ten. Damnit. I really liked being the tallest.

An afternoon the week before the Yule Ball, I got out of a Friday session with Dr. Fairchild and met Tonks and Mrs. Weasley for lunch and shopping in Diagon Alley. I still had plans to be George's date for the ball, as much as I had wavered about it since agreeing--as sort of strange and twitchy Fred acted every time it was brought up--and I needed some dress robes.

After our leisurely lunch, I was feeling pretty upbeat, happy and content. And I got to go shopping. The street was crowded with the Christmas rush but not too bad considering the season. Madame Malkin was finishing up with a customer so we browsed the selections while we waited.

"Oh, Stella!" Tonks called from the other end of the small shop as she lifted up a hangar for my inspection, "You should try this one on!"

"I dunno," I answered as I skeptically eyed her choice, a rather repulsive fuchsia and green number, "It'd kind of be like wearing an acid trip. And I'd feel bad if any epileptics in attendance happened to glance my way and start seizing."

She pouted quite theatrically as Mrs. W giggled into her hand.

Another ten minutes or so of browsing the racks revealed nothing I was really wild about. Dress robes have always seemed too bland to me. Most places only offer painfully traditional looks and I'm anything but traditional.

"Hello, dears," Madame Malkin finally greeted us, squat and gray haired and bundled in sleek, classy black velvet, "What can I do for you today?" She smiled at me in particular, adding, "Needing some dress robes for a holiday party, I'll wager?"

"Yes," I answered brightly, "But I don't really like wearing dress robes. Do you have anything with a little more... modern style to it?"

The little witch grinned. "Ah," She chirped, turning and bustling off towards the back, "I think I've got just the thing for you, young lady. It's a new line I've been working on for girls with your taste. I do seem to be getting a lot of them these days."

She came back with a delicate armful of pure snow-white silk. "Try it on, my dear," The woman beamed, "I think you'll be perfect for each other."

I went back into the changing room and quickly slipped into the garment. It was shimmery and short, just tight enough to be astoundingly sexy and just loose enough to be comfortable. It had a deep V neckline that reached nearly to my navel and was repeated again in the back. The shoulders just barely perched on mine, held together in the front and back by several delicate strands of fine silver chain. In the front, the chains detached on the right side with an ornate silver clasp in the shape of a small rose. The sleeves were long and clingy, tapering at the ends to points at the backs of my hands with single silver chains on each side that turned into rings for my middle fingers in order to hold them in place. It showed a lot of leg but that was ok because I had more than enough to spare. Most of my five feet, ten inches was pure leg. Overall, the robe fit like it was made for me and was just plain perfect.

"Perfect," Madame Malkin agreed dreamily when I stepped out of the dressing room. She was holding a pair of death-defying silver stilettos with the same chains from the dress across the toes and at the ankle. "Here, dear," She said, offering them out, "These go with it. Let's see everything all together."

I put them on, happily doing a bit of a catwalk strut in the main part of the store to the sounds of cheers and wolf whistles from Mrs. W and Tonks, respectively. "I just knew it," Madame Malkin beamed, "The cut is absolutely elegant on you and elven silk always makes blondes seem to shine."

"Oh, wow," I replied, looking forlornly into the mirror as I smoothed the expensive and heavenly soft material down my flat stomach, "I can't possibly afford this." It was depressing but true. My budget was respectable but by no means extravagant and the wonderful little dress robe was nowhere in it. Elven silk is rare and fairly expensive.

The old witch regarded me carefully for a few moments, seeming to be thinking very hard. Then she held up a finger and trotted off towards the back again, calling over her shoulder, "Wait one moment, dear. I'll see what I can do for you."

I smiled as she left, assuming she was off to get me something similar but cheaper and thinking what a nice lady she was. I turned back to regard myself in the full length mirror, enjoying the real thing while I still had it on.

I heard the bell on the shop door ring as someone walked in but didn't pay it much attention until that person hesitantly asked, "Stella?"

I turned and my expression hardened. "Oliver," I greeted curtly, turning my back on him and his slack-jawed face. It took a lot of effort because I was still kind of terrified of him but I couldn't let him see how much he'd gotten to me.

"I... uh... hi..." He gaped dumbly as I discreetly watched him through the mirror. He was much the same as I remembered him: handsome, brawny and dark-haired, cocky and led entirely by his dick. "You... you look good, Stel," He finally stated after I'd ignored him for a solid five minutes.

"I know," I chirped dismissively, trying to get my point across that I really had no desire to ever talk to him for the remainder of my life and his.

This was the guy who'd almost raped me, who spread rumors about me that were so horrible they led me towards a complete breakdown. Where the fuck did he get off talking to me like we were old friends?

"So..." He began, blatantly staring at my arse, not even acknowledging the fact that Mrs. W and Tonks were still in the room and waiting for some kind of introduction or indication that they should get rid of the boy, "I haven't seen you in awhile. How've you been?"

Did he not remember me holding a knife to his jugular and swearing I'd kill him if he ever touched me again?

"Peachy," I quipped, glaring daggers at him through the mirror.

A long stretch of awkward silence ensued. Oliver continued to stare at my arse, the bloody typical idiot, and the second he tried to get anywhere near me I was going to make good on my promise and slit his fucking throat.

Madame Malkin emerged from the back room with a big smile on her face. "I have a proposition for you, my dear," She told me, making a few minor tugs on the outfit and standing back to give her work a pleased nod, "I'm going to be shooting some catalogues and advertisements for this line of robes. You can have the one you're wearing if you model for me. I just talked to my photographer and he thinks you'll be exactly what we need."

I didn't quite know what to say, speechlessly looking to Tonks and Mrs. W for some input.

"I think it's a great idea," Tonks piped happily, her hair a sunny shade of orange and her hands on her hips in a tomboyish stance, "Everyone's always said what a bombshell you are."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, agreeing, "You are a lovely young woman and this sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you. If nothing else, it will give you a little something to do while you're not in school."

That was enough of an endorsement for me. Grinning excitedly, I turned back to Madame Malkin and stated, "I'm in."

"Oh, splendid!" The little witch bubbled sweetly, fussing over me a bit more, "Will you be free after Christmas to be fitted for some other outfits and meet the photographer?"

"Of course," I smiled, "Any day you need me. Thank you so much, Madame Malkin!"

"Think nothing of it, dear," She answered, giving my cheek a loving pat, "I does my heart good to see something I've made worn so beautifully."

I blushed, turning back to the mirror again in order to admire my gorgeous new robe.

"Can I help you, young man?" The witch asked pleasantly as she finally noticed Oliver's presence. Her expression darkened somewhat when she saw that he was still staring at my arse.

"Oh, um, ya," Oliver said, a little embarrassed to have been caught in the act--though it didn't stop him, shameless prat--"I just, um, I need some robes for a quidditch league Christmas party. I play keeper for Puddlemere United."

I was fairly sure the last part was said purely for my benefit, to try to impress me. I let him see my animated eye roll.

"Of course," Madame Malkin stated politely, "I can be with you in just one moment." She turned back to me, smiling a big, genuine smile as she instructed, "Why don't you go change back and I'll wrap the robe up for you."

I nodded and moved off towards the dressing rooms once more, ecstatic and no longer having to make that much of an effort in order to not let Oliver get to me. He was a total moron and... I was just better than him. I didn't have to bother even thinking about the boy.

Madame Malkin wrapped my robe and shoes, even letting me borrow a heavy white wool travelling cloak so that I wouldn't get cold, and I made sure to leave her my name and contact information so she could get in touch with me for the fitting and everything. After that, it was back to the Burrow, where I raced straight to the twins' room and put my robe back on so that I could admire it some more. I owled Fred and George, telling them all about my shopping experience--leaving out the Oliver bit because, really, he wasn't even worth a mention--and about my modeling job.

It had just been an all around good day.

The next afternoon, I went to visit Remus at his job, a dull little office gig. It was by no means stimulating and his immense intellectual talents were going to waste but he was content. And it was certainly better than some of the other employment he'd been forced to endure throughout the years because of the stigma surrounding his condition. People really were such bastards.

Another week passed without much fanfare. I spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow, having a cozy, absolutely scrumptious dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Auntie Andromeda and Uncle Ted, Uncle Remus, Tonks, and Bill, who'd popped in to surprise his parents.

He was a little upset that I'd gone to Egypt and not come to visit him but I managed to buy the man's forgiveness with promises that I would, once again, model my stunning dress robes. I'm sure everyone else was getting a bit tired of me showing off but they were just so glad that I was happy that they didn't mind humoring me for a bit longer.

Christmas morning meant presents. I got some more clothes and books and tons of candy. Mrs. Weasley made me my own jumper, a cuddly slate blue one that matched my eyes. Fred and George sent me a letter saying that I wouldn't get their presents until I showed up at Hogwarts later in the day to get ready for the Yule Ball, a strange coincidence since I'd owled them an almost identical letter.

The biggest surprise of the morning was that Harry sent me a gift. I didn't bother to get him anything that year, still quite pissed at him for all he'd done and said to me, but my heart did soften a bit when I saw that he'd actually gotten me something. The package was about the size and shape of an unusually large brick, wrapped in simple blue paper and bearing a small card that read, "Stella, I know I don't deserve it but I hope you can forgive me someday. The password is 'of course it flies. What the bloody hell would I do with a motorbike that doesn't fly?' All other instructions and important material are inside. Hope you like it. Love, Harry."

My interest peaked, I carefully unwrapped the present and found that it was a shining silver box with a delicate starburst etched into the top. At the center of the crossed lines that made the star, was a pale little blue gem. It was a very pretty gift but I couldn't see any way to get it open. It seemed to just be a solid block of metal.

I read Harry's letter again as I turned the box over in my hands, finally addressing the thing as I stated, "Of course it flies. What the bloody hell would I do with a motorbike that doesn't fly?"

With a muffled click, the top half split directly down the middle and the two pieces opened outwards to reveal a sectioned interior lined with blue velvet. It was a jewelry box.

I smiled, picking up a folded scrap of paper from the deepest well and opening it to read what turned out to be instructions. I read them through and set it so that it would only open to my voice. I explored the many hidden compartments that opened from all sides and corners of the box, setting different passwords to open each one. It wasn't until I got to the last that I discovered something more.

It was the toughest compartment to find, requiring the box to be opened first from the top, then the right and left sides folded out individually from the inside, then the flat metal surface that was revealed to be slid back with another password--stuffed purple puppy. It revealed another blue satin lined compartment, but this had a thick ornate silver disc about the circumference of a softball nestled into its own little spot. Also there was a ragged scrap of parchment. The handwriting was not Harry's and tears sprang into my eyes when I recognized it in an instant.

The handwriting was my daddy's.

"I miss you, my beautiful girl," It read, crooked and blotchy, "Give me a call." The bottom was signed with a carefully drawn paw print surrounded by a heart.

My hands shaking, I reverently picked the disc up out of the bottom of the box and opened the delicate cover to reveal my own face in a flawless mirror. I grinned, almost in tears, because I remembered the stories Uncle Remus had told me about my daddy and James and the two-way mirrors they used to talk to each other when they were in different detentions.

"I'll be upstairs!!" I shrieked to the rest of the inhabitants of the living room, ignoring the quizzical stares as I cradled the compact against my chest and raced for the privacy of the twins' room.

Once there, I shut the door and settled cross-legged on Fred's bed, taking a deep breath before I looked down into the mirror and whispered, "Daddy?"

It took a few moments, long, tense moments, but, finally, his face appeared, older, gaunt and heavily beard but... it was him.

"Merlin," He gasped, gray eyes going misty as he stared up at me, "You get more gorgeous every time I see you."

"Daddy," I repeated tearfully, hardly able to believe what I was seeing, "A-Are you ok?"

He grinned so broadly I almost thought his weathered face was going to rip straight down the middle. "I'm just fine, baby," He stated happily, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Daddy," I answered, sniffling as I drew my finger tips along the edges of the mirror, "I miss you so much. I... where are you? I want to come see you."

Still mesmerized with me but infinitely saddened, the scraggly man in the mirror cooed, "I know, baby. I want to see you, too. But it's not safe right now. The Ministry is still searching for me and I won't have you in danger, no matter how much... no matter how much I miss you, I love you more and that means I have to keep you safe, ok?"

His voice was deep, a gravelly bass just like I remembered.

I nodded, feeling like I was five again and agreeing with his order not to eat cookies before dinner just because I was such a daddy's girl.

He kept beaming at me, seeming unable to stop, and lovingly remarked, "You look so much like your mum, baby... I wish she could see you. I know she'd be so proud."

"Daddy," I cried, breaking down into tears, "I-I'm sorry! I tried to keep them safe! I tried but I-I couldn't-"

"Hey, hey," He cut me off, his hand touching the mirror's surface like he desperately wanted to reach through it and touch me, "Stella, love, that wasn't your fault. None of it was."

I bit back another sob, weakly arguing, "But you said! You told me to take care of them!"

"I know you did your very best," My daddy soothed, "You were so little, love. It wasn't fair of me to give you that responsibility and I've never blamed you for any of it, not for a second. You remember that for me, alright?"

I nodded again, sniffling and swiping at my eyes.

"Good," He agreed, smiling at me again and doing a bit of sniffling himself, "Then, um, how about we just talk, ok? I... I want to know all about my brilliant daughter."

Laughing, I eagerly replied, "I'd like that... well, I'm fifteen and I went through a growth spurt last summer so I'm five-ten and everyone thinks I'm much older. M-My best friends are Fred and George Weasley. They're really funny and good pranks so I think you'd like them. My favorite color is blue. I speak Greek and French, and some Gaelic and Arabic, and a few African languages. I really like reading and learning but- but not for school. I hate school and I don't want to go back. I... um... oh, I'm going to be a model in a catalogue for Madame Malkin. I'm going to the Yule Ball tonight with my friend George, and- and-"

"Whoa, love," My daddy laughed tenderly, "Take a breath. We've got plenty of time." He grinned as I gave a shy smile. "A model, huh?" He asked proudly, "I always knew you were going to end up too damn beautiful for your own good."

My smile widened... and then fell. "Dad," I asked softly, "Why... why have you been writing to Harry and not me? I mean, you had to have, right? Since your present was hidden inside his. And the password, that was something you said once, wasn't it?"

Chuckling, he commented, "You're just as smart everyone told me, you know that I'm sorry, love, but I can't write you for the same reason I can't see you: the Ministry has your mail and probably you under surveillance. They don't suspect Harry of talking to me because I'm supposed to be out to kill him. I've been asking him to pass along messages, but... you were gone and... he says you aren't speaking to him anyways... why not, love? You and Harry always got along so well."

I snorted, countering, "Why don't you ask him? Anyways, what about when you were at Hogwarts? Why did you only leave me notes instead of talking to me?"

He blushed a bit, cautiously admitting, "I... at first, I didn't know if you'd remember me... if you hated me... and then I just didn't want you in danger. I heard you saying that you'd want to go with me and I couldn't let you ask because, well, I didn't think I could say no at the time."

"But how did you hear?" I pouted, "I never saw you."

He gave a crooked smirk, observing, "No one's really told you anything about what happened, have they?"

"No," I pouted, "They just said that you'd managed to escape and that you were in hiding. Will you tell me?"

"Of course," He answered nervously shoving stringy black hair away from his face, "Just... um... try not to be too mad, ok?..."

I finally got the whole story, about three-quarters of the Marauders being illegal animagi and about my dad breaking out of Azkaban because he knew Harry and I were in danger with Peter so close to us. He told me about how Harry realized the truth and helped him escape and I decided right then that saving my daddy's life earned my little godbrother at least a shot at the forgiveness he wanted.

"So, the whole time, you were the dog?" I asked, quite shocked but not mad like he'd feared. He gave a slight, sheepish nod and I chuckled, "That's kind of weird, Dad."

Put at ease by the fact that I wasn't screaming hysterically at him, he replied, "I had to see you and it was the best I could do."

"I understand," I told him, smiling into the mirror surface, "Just.. try to forget most of what you saw. I wasn't too well at the time."

"But you're ok now, right?" He questioned anxiously, "I've been worried to death over you. You can't just disappear on everyone like that. If I was in a position of a little more parental authority, I think I'd have to ground you."

"I know," I said, "I'm sorry. I am doing a lot better. I'm talking to a shrink and, well, not being at Hogwarts does a whole lot of good."

My daddy's face grew dark. "I peed on a lot of bookbags for you, if that helps," He declared.

I giggled, "It does."

From outside the locked door, I heard footsteps and low growls echoing up the stairs. "Remus is coming," I announced, "I got him these cute wolf feet slippers for Christmas and they growl with every step... are you in contact with him or anyone else?"

"Ya" He said, smirking crookedly, "But I'm not supposed to be talking to you. They told me to be patient until a safe place can be arranged... so I should probably go. I want you to call me again soon, love. I want to hear all about the ball and everything, alright?"

"Of course," I replied, pressing a brief kiss to the mirror surface, "I love you, Daddy. Stay safe."

He got all teary eyed, choking on his reply. I would have been content to wait for it but Remus' knock made me jump and I snapped the lid of the compact shut just as he cracked the door. "Stella?" He called, poking his head inside, "Are you alright?"

Hard as I tried to not act suspicious, I couldn't wipe the giant grin off my face. "I'm great," I chirped, happily bouncing off the bed and hugging the compact against my chest, "I see you opened your present. Do you like them?"

Remus chuckled, taking a few more growling steps on fury grey wolf feet as he said, "They're wonderful, love, thank you... what's that you've got there?"

"A compact," I answered, showing only the ornately worked outside with its swirling falling star design, "It came in Harry's present. Isn't it pretty?"

"Yes, very," Remus said with a smile, seeming to be happy because it was the first sentence that I'd said with Harry's name in it that didn't end in some sort of curse or threat. "Molly has informed me that her cookies are done," He added, "They smell delicious. You should come and have some before Tonks and Bill demolish the entire batch."

"Ok," I laughed, jogging to his side and linking my arm with his, "Let's go."

xxXxx

I was so over the moon about talking to my dad that I didn't feel even half as bad as I thought I would when I finally arrived at Hogwarts late in the afternoon. With my robes in a neat garment bag and some pajamas for afterwards in my satchel, I went through the Honeydukes' cellar into the secret passage way that leads to the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor corridor. The twins were there waiting.

"Merry Christmas, boys," I greeted happily as they both gave me a hand out of the opening.

"Merry Christmas, love," George beamed, tugging me right into a hug and then holding out a wrapped package. I laughed, bringing out his gift--a pair of slick aviator goggles; weird, I know, but I knew they would be perfect for just that very reason--and swapping it with him for mine. As we walked along towards the Room of Requirement, we both tore into the presents.

In just a few moments, I found myself holding a red leather journal with the image of a burning heart embossed deeply into the front. I flipped through the blank white pages, smiling as I remarked, "It's beautiful."

"Not just beautiful," He replied, hurriedly snapping on his goggles and smiling like a maniac, his tomato red hair sticking out at odd angles, "Useful. See, I've got the other one. You write in yours and it shows up in mine and same for the other way around. So we can keep in touch anywhere, you know?"

Suddenly teary-eyed, I flung my arms around his sweet, lovable neck and squeezed tight, cooing, "Oh, Georgie. I love it. Thank you."

He squeezed me right back, laying a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek as he swooped me off my feet and spun me throughout the corridor. "I'm glad," The boy crowed, "And I love my present, too. How'd you know I've always wanted a pair of these?"

"Because you told me you did," I laughed heartily, "I put shatterproof and defogging charms on them so you can wear them to play quidditch. I can almost guarantee you'll be the only one out there with genuine aviator goggles."

I finally got put down and turned to smile at Fred, beckoning him over. "Your turn," I called, digging into my satchel and wrestling with the oddly shaped item I'd shoved into the magically expanded depths, "I'm afraid I didn't really wrap it since it's a little awkward."

Fred's blue eyes grew wide in his skull. "A sword?" He gaped, reaching tentatively when I held out the ornamental hilt.

"A rapier," I said with a grin, watching him take it from its long sheath, "Thought it would match that wit of yours."

George snorted loudly.

"I-" Fred began, giving a few experimental slashes and trusts of the slender blade, "I don't know what to say... where did you get this?"

"Flea market," I chuckled nervously, "The only way I can afford Christmas... so what do you think?"

"It's fantastic!" Fred beamed, grinning like... well, like a kid on Christmas morning, "I'm going to have to get one of the suits of armor to teach me to fence! Thanks, Stel!"

"You're welcome," I chirped happily, darting in for a heartfelt hug. Fred and I wrapped our arms around each other and both sighed in contentment.

Those Weasley twins are sneaky buggers and good with their hands, too. I didn't feel Fred at all as he discretely slipped a soft length of blue ribbon around my neck. I only noticed the piece of jewelry when I pulled away and noticed the new weight settled at the hollow of my throat. "Wow," I cooed, pulling on the charm that hung loosely from the choker in order to get a look at it. The little pendant was a perfect, circular token, about the size of a walnut and made of what looked like some sort of flawless ivory intricately carved with what I took a few moments to realize were tiny runes and spell symbols. "It's gorgeous," I cooed, smiling up at Fred.

"For the amount of time the planker spent making it, it had damn well better be," George piped up, attempting to snatch his brother's sword and repeatedly getting his hands slapped away.

I stared back up into Fred's handsome face just in time to watch him blush becomingly. "You made this?" I asked, thoroughly impressed but not quite surprised. Fred always made the gifts he gave me but this one... it must have been so much work.

"Well, ya," He answered softly, keeping eye contact and making me suspiciously weak at the knees with his kind, rumbling voice, "It's, um, a piece of dragon tooth. I had to beg Charlie for a week to get him to send it to me and then I just, um, worked on it a little bit, is all. Shaped it and carved on some protection and good luck spells. And look-" He bent in close, reaching out to close his rough, warm hand around mine around the charm, "-you rub it like this and, if I did it right, you should hear-"

"Don't worry so much, beautiful," Fred's voice sang out quietly from the pendant, clear and tender, full of sincerity and warmth, "You're far too amazing to let yourself be sad. Remember that I love you like crazy and see if it helps."

I sniffed back tears, struck deeply by just how much thought Fred had given this gift. He was red up to his ears but our eyes stayed locked. I wrapped my free arm around his neck, pulling him in close and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You are incredible," I cried against his shoulder, melting into his hug and radiating body heat, "I love you so much."

I felt him grin as he mouthed a kiss against the crown of my head, replying, "Ditto, Stel."

xxXxx

Despite protests and whining from the twins, I eventually holed myself in the Room of Requirement, which had been morphed into a luxuriant bathroom complete with a lovely tub and fully stocked vanity. There were a few hours before we were expected to make an entrance to the ball but, as I had to keep insisting to the twins, we girls liked to take our time getting ready.

Fred and George kept me company though, sitting on the other side of a tall screen while I soaked in a nice bubble bath and then got dressed. We chatted on about this and that. They made me laugh on purpose while I was putting on my make up so I ended up having to redo it about a million times, the cheeky bastards. I eventually convinced them both to just put on their own robes while they were waiting for me. That kept them busy for about five minutes.

I was ready with about half an hour to spare, doing a full turn in the mirror to admire my robes and do one final check of the glittering silver make up all around my eyes and on my lips. My blonde hair fell to my jaw in a messy shag decorated with a pair of crystal clips to hold it back from my face. "Alright, boys," I called happily, "You ready for me?"

"Been ready for the last hour!" George laughed, "You'd better hurry up or you're going to make Freddie late for Angelina. She'll maim him."

"Merlin forbid," I replied, sweeping out from behind the screen and doing a flourished spin. Grinning at the slack-jawed expressions with which I was met, I laughed, "What do you think?"

Fred stuttered and mumbled, turning beat red as George gave a lecherous smirk. "I think I'm definitely taking home the hottest date award," He chirped happily, toying with the garish purple top hat set on his shaggy head and deftly straightening his second-hand robes of the same color, "Absolutely no contest. And I get to tell everyone you're a model, which will score me major bragging rights."

Still seeming unable to speak, Fred fidgeted in his vivid blue robes. They were several shades darker than his eyes but matched a whole lot better than his brother's ensemble. While both twins looked handsome, Fred had a more... polished air to him. George was a spectacle, able to pull of his lurid color palate only because he carried himself with such utter confidence. Fred just looked damn good.

I grinned, teasing, "Well, the speechlessness of your twins is a good sign on that front."

Fred's jaw snapped shut.

Picking up the heavy white traveling cloak Madame Malkin loaned me up off a stray chair, George gentlemanly held it out, commenting, "You'd better not forget this. As much of a shame it is to ever cover up such a fantastic sight, you'll freeze to death on the walk to the Hall."

"I'm sure they've put up warming charms," I argued pointedly even as I let him drape the heavy material around my shoulders and took the arm he held out.

"Still," He countered, grinning impishly and waggling his ginger eyebrows at me, "We should ease the rest of the school into you. Don't want to cause any massive coronary episodes in the males or explosions due to extreme jealousy from the girls."

I shook my head, laughing at his silliness as I turned towards Fred and called, "Now that you've gotten a look at my coronary episode and explosion inducing ensemble, you'd better go meet Angelina. We'll see you in there, Freddie, and I expect a dance."

"I... uh..." He stuttered, shocked expression quickly morphing into a slightly sad one. Before I could ask what was wrong, he turned around and hastily ran out, declaring, "Ok, bye, see you, have fun!"

"What's eating him?" I questioned lightly as George led us along in the wake of his twin's frantic bid for freedom.

With a smirk, my date replied, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Obviously not," I laughed, jabbing him sharply in the ribs.

He leaned in very close, sharing a conspiratorial smile and whisper, "He's madly in love with you. Has been for years, the poor bastard."

Thinking it was yet another joke, I snorted quite inelegantly. "Sure, Georgie," I told him, rolling my eyes and clinging to his arm, "Whatever you say."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ta-freaking-dah!! Sorry this took so long but hopefully you all liked it. I'll be working on more and, in the meantime, I'd love some feedback :D