Part 17 - Horoscope

Waking to find both twins hovering about an inch from my face is always a sign that something has gone terribly wrong. I blinked up at their worried expressions, not quite remembering how I landed myself in the hospital wing but knowing that it must have been something bad based on the boys' expressions of fear and frantic concern.

"Stella," Fred began cautiously, reaching out to smooth my choppy bangs out of my eyes, "Are you alright, love?"

"Think so," I sighed, feeling my head swim and my chest ache, still unable to remember why, "What happened?"

Looking... guilty, George answered, "Madame P said it was a panic attack."

"Remus is on his way," Fred contributed, voice quiet and hand shaking almost imperceptibly, "As soon as Madame P clears you, he wants to take you to see Dr. Fairchild."

"Lucky me," I groaned, huffing at the thought of having a session with the shrink. I did like him a lot better than my other ones, but some days I just didn't have the energy. That day was one of them.

Like a flash, I remembered the moments leading up to my panic attack, the twins' interrogation and how I freaked out about it, collapsing in the hall outside the library. My face grew hot with shame and I tried not to meet their eyes; I wanted nothing more than for my best friends to never know what had been done to me. what I'd done...

It was then that I noticed two extra bodies in the room, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang seated anxiously in rickety chairs against the far wall. I picked my head up off the pillow to give them both a wan smile. "My heroes," I joked, because I was piecing together my broken, frantic memories and they must've been the ones who found me outside the library. Besides, talking to the couple gave me an excuse not to look at the twins. "I'll have to remember to send out muffin baskets," I went on, drawing relieved smiles out of the young man and woman, "Do you fancy banana-nut or blueberry? Or perhaps some nice bran?"

"I'm happy to see your sense of humor made it through intact," Cedric replied with a grin, he and Cho standing with their hands linked sweetly and making their way closer to the end of my bed, "You had us quite worried there, turning blue and passing out and all."

"Must've been something I ate," I stated, dismissing the diagnosis that I knew they'd both heard, "There's some bad yogurt circulating. The public should be cautioned."

Cho gave a high, twittering giggle. "Cedric told me you were funny," She remarked with a friendly smile, "I see that he was right... it's nice to meet you, Stella. I'm Cho."

"Charmed," I answered pleasantly, a little disturbed that the girl was being so nice. I had very little experience with kindness from the students of Hogwarts and, when it did happen, my initial reaction tended to be one of suspicion.

Still feeling rather shitty, I forced myself to sit up, to swing my feet out of the bed. I would have made an effort to stand, but Fred was right there and ready to stop me. "Take it easy, Stel," He said, hand on my shoulders and holding me firmly in place, "You should relax until Madame P has a chance to examine you."

"I feel fine," I snapped, brushing his hands away, still unable to meet his sad blue eyes, "I'm not a damn invalid."

I could tell without looking that I'd hurt him with the sharp rebuff and felt guilty as hell on top of everything else.

xxXxx

Remus arrived about a half hour later. He fussed. I remained uncooperative and snarky. It's part of my undeniable allure.

I said goodbye without meeting anyone's eyes.

And then I was at the shrink's office. I didn't sit down.

My chest still ached. My head felt like it was weighing me down to the ground. But, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't sit. Sitting would mean that it was time to talk.

"What's on your mind, Stella?" Dr. Fairchild questioned; as always, his voice was gentle and coaxing.

I bristled and jokingly responded, "Same old, same old, Doc. What's new with you?"

He watched me pace for a few moments, expression blank. "We're not here to talk about me, Stella," The old man stated, "We're here to talk about what happened this afternoon while you were at Hogwarts."

I fidgeted with the zippers on my jacket.

"The nurse said it was a panic attack?" He went on, sort of questioning but not really because we both knew that he knew the answer. Damn shrinks and their tricky mind games.

"She says a lot of things," I snapped hotly, losing track of where I was pacing and banging my toe on the leg of the coffee table.

"OW!! SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!!" I shrieked, hopping around stupidly for a few moments before flopping to the floor.

My toe didn't really hurt that much but it was just the last straw. Cradling the bruised digit, I burst into tears.

Fairchild carefully helped me into one of the squashy armchairs and inspected my toe. "It's not broken," He reported over my sobs, his thin lips tense behind his graying push-broom moustache.

I curled both my legs into my chest, hugging them tightly and bawling my eyes out.

The doctor went back to his own seat. "Stella," He demanded gently, "I'd like you to tell me about what happened today."

Choking down tears, I wiped my eyes and hoarsely admitted, "Fred and George... t-they wanted to know what happened to me, too... they asked about the night Claire and me broke out of the whack-shack."

Fighting back a smirk over my colorful wording, Fairchild asked, "And why did that upset you?"

I whimpered, "They... I-I can't."

"You can," The doctor insisted, "You can tell me. You can admit what happened and you can begin to deal with it."

I shook my head. "It was... It was wrong," I said, "It was my fault."

"Killing Claire?" The doctor pressed.

Wincing, I averted my eyes and agreed, "Yes. I killed her."

He leafed through some papers he had handy, observing, "Your file says you claimed that was an accident."

"It was," I muttered, picking compulsively at my nail beds, "I pushed her. She fell and hit her head."

The doctor paused, seeming to be gauging me before he asked, "And why did you push her?"

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Stella," He repeated, calm and understanding, "Why did you push Claire?"

With my forehead pressed against my knees, I softly admitted, "S-She wouldn't get off me... she was doing things to me and I told her no but she wouldn't get off."

"What was she doing?" Dr. Fairchild pushed.

Exhausted, disgusted, I screamed, "Touching me! She was touching me! I didn't want her to and she wouldn't STOP!!"

xxXxx

We were in the office for six grueling hours while the doctor coaxed the story out of me and then picked up the pieces. I spent most of the session alternately sobbing like a baby and raging like a wounded lion.

But I left feeling... not really better but... lighter. Calmer.

And at least Remus stopped looking at me like I was a time bomb ticking down through its last ten seconds.

He seemed to be giving me the leeway of a minute or so.

He took me out to dinner. Nothing fancy, just some burgers in London because he knew that I was fond of them. And it was just the two of us again, like old times. So that was fun. I love my godfather like crazy and spending some quality time with him was long overdue.

We talked a little about what upset me at Hogwarts, though I still couldn't make myself give any details. He could respect my reluctance to tell him, he said--just like that because he was always an absurdly smart and well-spoken man--as long as I was talking to my shrink and getting things off my chest and working towards making myself healthy.

He pulled me into a hug, and I squeezed him back so hard I was afraid his old bones would break.

We kept talking. Remus asked about my modeling gig. I told him that I had the appointment set with Ozzy for the following week. Remus asked about how I was doing with Harry and with the twins. I couldn't report too much good news on the Harry front but at least, I said, I was trying to force myself to make an effort towards forgiving the jerk. I said that the twins were fine. Acting a little strange, but strange is normal when you're dealing with Double Trouble.

It was late by the time we made it back to the Burrow. Remus saw me inside and said brief hellos to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before going home to his own tiny flat. With Bill having returned to Egypt, it was just Molly and Arthur and me in the house. That was fine. They were good company, if a bit overbearing. Molly just about frog-marched me up to bed, proclaiming that I needed my rest.

Another week passed quickly. The twins wrote and pestered, but I asked them for some space while I dealt and they respected that. I went to see Dr. Fairchild another three times. We talked a little bit more about Claire. The doc was trying to convince me that I wasn't to blame for what happened, but I knew that I was. He wanted me to talk to a rape counselor, go to group therapy sessions, but I didn't. I never did.

On the grey morning of Tuesday, January 19th, 1995, I flooed to Ozzy's spacious London studio for my photo shoot.

"Hey there, gorgeous," He greeted me with a bright hug and kiss, "How are you feeling today? Especially sexy, I'm hoping?"

"I feel especially sexy every day, Oz," I replied with a bright laugh, flicking my shaggy hair out of my eyes, "That's the joy of being me."

"Fantastic," He laughed, "Let's get to work then!"

Modeling was fun. I got to try on all sorts of pretty outfits and prance around for the camera. Piece of cake. Me and Ozzy joked around the whole time, talking about this and that. We capped off the long afternoon with trying to come up with a cool stage name for me. Because I didn't think it was wise to be credited as Stella Black. I was a little too infamous already.

"If you want to go classical, I've always loved Artemisia, like the painter," Ozzy suggested, snapping away with his camera. It had been attached to his eye for so long that I was beginning to forget what the man looked like without the contraption.

"Rather a mouthful, isn't it?" I laughed, pouting sexily and trying not to let my boobs flop out of a strange dressrobe-tubedress combination. It wasn't one of my favorite numbers. "I think I'd like something a bit simpler..."

Smirking, Ozzy tried, "Penny Candy?"

"Said simpler, not stripper," I retorted with a theatrical huff, flopping back into the mound of lush cushions on which I was propped.

Ozzy made an excited noise and changed his angle, growling something that could've been, "Don't move."

"Jesus, Oz," I continued with my comment, remaining motionless in order to sate whatever artistic bent in which the man had found himself wrapped, "Thought you were running a respectable operation here."

"Well, don't tell Aunt Jenny," he responded, grinning slyly, "But my operation certainly wasn't always so respectable. I did shoot a tiny bit of porn very early in my career."

I started laughing so hard that I was sure I was going to pee myself.

Ozzy just kept taking pictures, not upset that I'd moved because, as much as he growled, he really never was. "You've got such a nice smile," he observed, suddenly detaching the camera from his face and shooting me an excited grin, "I really hope you'll model for me again."

"I suppose I could be persuaded," I snickered, "As long as it's not for porn."

"That was a long time ago," the young man defended, pouting only slightly, "And I certainly know better than to ask a fifteen-year-old girl to pose nude. Last thing I need is to end up on a sex offender list. Anyways, get back to picking your name and try to look... wistful."

That was not hard when, moments later, I decided on a perfect stage name. "Leda," I declared, turning and staring out a wide window, "It was my mum's name."

Ozzy briefly lowered his camera. "Sounds perfect," he commented, seeming to have decided my far-off gaze was not to be wasted and going back to capturing it on film, "Last name?"

Since Leda would honor my mum, it seemed only fitting that the last name would honor my dad. "Chiot," I decided with a smirk.

"Shee-O?" Ozzy inquired, slightly confused.

"It's French," I replied, glancing back at my photographer, his neatly parted dark hair and stylish mauve sweater, "C-H-I-O-T. It's means 'puppy.'"

He smiled wide, stating, "Leda Chiot. I think I like it. It suits you."

"Ya," I agreed, laughing and turning onto my side, tugging on the neckline of the tube-dressrobes, "I think it does. Now that that's decided, can I put on another outfit?"

"Sure," Ozzy said, setting down his camera and coming to give me a hand up, "How about the long pale blue one with the strappy back? It's gorgeous with your eyes." His whole face lit up. He shoved his glasses a little higher up on his aquiline nose as he suggested, "There's a nice park down the street. What do you say to a doing a few outdoor shots? By the fountains? Or the lakeside, maybe?"

"Sweet," I beamed, jogging off towards the dressing room, "Be right back."

xxXxx

The catalogue was all set to come out a little under two weeks later on January 29th. Three days before, I got a whole bunch of advance copies to share with family and friends. I took three with me to Hogwarts. Two were for the twins (because I know how much they really don't 

like to share) and the third was for my dad. Of course, to get it to him, I was going to have to go through Harry.

I still didn't want to deal with him though, so I took a passageway into Gryffindor tower while I thought he should've been in class. I rifled through his things until I found a piece of parchment that looked like it was important. Then I scribbled on it:

Dear Loser,
Send this to Padfoot.
Love,
The Most Awesome Friend You Wish You Had.

I put the catalogue and the note down on Harry's bed and was turning to leave, but the little jerk chose that exact moment to show up in the door way. His mouth dropped open. The sandwich he was holding dropped to the floor. "Stella," he said, startled, guardedly hopeful, "What... what are doing here?"

"Got a package for Padfoot," I replied, crossing my arms and nodding towards the items on Harry's bed, "Thought the least you could do was be a good little messenger boy."

"Of course!" he agreed eagerly, stooping to salvage his sandwich, "I'll send him anything you want. Any time, ok?"

"Peachy," I chimed. And then we stood in awkward silence for much longer than I generally like. "Well, this was fun," I finally added, all bright and chipper, "Good catching up. I'll be going now."

"Wait, just..." Harry argued, fidgeting in the doorway, in my way, "Can we talk for a minute?"

I raised a skeptical eyebrow, questioning, "And what exactly would we have to talk about, boy wonder?"

"Um," he mumbled, "How much of an idiot I am?"

Despite the fact that I was still rather angry with my little godbrother, that comment scored him some points. I cracked up, taking a seat on the end of Ron's bed and stating, "Alright, but only because that's a favorite topic of mine." I nodded for him to come and sit across from me.

He did, still visibly nervous. His green eyes were huge and scared, like I was going to choose to physically assault him at any moment. I don't know where he got such an idea. I mean, the worst I'd ever done to him was stab him in the thigh with a fork, and that was at the height of my craziness. And he totally had it coming.

"So?" I asked expectantly.

"Right," Harry replied, clearing his throat, "I know I've already said I'm sorry, but I just wanted to say it again." He stared across at me, all sorrowful and heartfelt. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you, Stel. No matter what was going on, you didn't deserve any of it, not from me or from anyone else. You'd never been anything but good to me, and I'm sorry I was cruel to you and that I didn't believe you and... I know there's probably nothing I can do to make it up to you, but I will do anything for another shot at... at being your friend."

I fixed him with a stern look, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" I questioned, "Would you... quack like a duck?"

Harry did the most hilarious double-take I had ever seen, gaping, "What?"

"Would you quack like a duck?" I repeated, having a rather hard time keeping a straight face because the whole situation was way too priceless and he'd just totally walked into it. I peered across at him, waiting.

He stared at me for a long few moments, still trying to determine whether or not I was serious. "Quack," he finally coughed, awkward and self-conscious, "Quack."

"You don't just say 'quack'," I criticized, rolling my eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "You actually have to make a duck sound."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed, coughing again and finally quacking, "Qua-qua."

"Now flap your arms," I commanded, doing my very, very best not to so much as crack a smirk. It was very, very hard.

Turning a rather adorable shade of pink, Harry began to flap his arms up and down like wings, sounding off, "Qua-qua. Qua-qua."

"Hop up and down on one foot," I said.

And he did it, standing and jumping and wobbling, flapping his arms and quacking, "Qua-qua. Qua-qua." He looked, quite frankly, absolutely ridiculous.

"Spin around!" I commanded, enjoying myself immensely. There certainly was an upside to the boy's guilt.

Harry spun and hopped and flapped and quacked, "Qua-qua."

And then Ron appeared in the doorway, and it was the expression on his face that made me finally lose control of my hysterical laughter. I cracked the fuck up, ending up falling onto my side, curling in on myself on top of Ron's bed and just laughing.

I laughed for... probably about five minutes straight. I almost had control of myself again, but then I looked up and saw that Harry hadn't stopped spinning and hopping and flapping and quacking, that Ron was still standing in the doorway looking completely dumbfounded, not to mention severely worried about the sanity of everyone in the room.

"Oh god," I gasped, ten minutes later, after I finally regained control yet again and Harry had finally stopped his ridiculous act. "I may need to lie down after that," I giggled, wiping the tears of laughter out of my eyes as I stood.

I walked past Harry, smirking at his expectant, hopeful expression. "You have amused me," I snickered, patting him on the cheek. I patted him once more, slightly harder. It might've been a slap. Who knows? "You're still an arsehole," I added brightly, "But you have amused me. That earns you three points."

And then I left. As I was trotting down the stairs, I heard, "What? Points? Stel, what does that mean?"

xxXxx

Not really wanting to talk to the twins yet either, I left their copies on their beds and then returned to the Burrow. I wasn't back ten minutes before an owl arrived with a letter for me. Written in George's spiky script, it read:

Darlingest Stella

Thank you for the porn. I don't even mind that it's softcore because you make an absolutely amazing centerfold. How about meeting up with me and the twin tonight for a private autograph signing? Ten o'clock in the Three Broomsticks?

Super! See you there!
Love,
George.

I laughed, a little nervous about seeing them again after my epic freak out. But I couldn't resist George's craziness. He's always had that effect on me.

So I snuck out again after dark and made my way yet again to Hogsmeade. The twins were already in our usual corner, halfway through a pair of butterbeers. They grinned when they saw me, jumping out of their seats and tackling me into a massive hug.

"Hello to you, too, twinses," I sniggered, feeling good to be back with my best friends.

"Evening, Miss Chiot, if that is your real name," George teased, the first to let go and leave me for his brother to kiss gently, hesitantly.

I smirked against Fred's mouth, humming in contentment and just about melting into his strong arms.

When he finally pulled away, he flashed a charming grin and asked, "Going to let me take you on that date tonight?"

"What about Georgie?" I replied, reaching out to give the other twin's freckled ear a tug, "He wants me to scribble on his porn. I have very sexy penmanship."

Rolling his eyes, Fred declared, "George can amuse himself for a night. We have an understanding."

"Did you agreed to be Official Guinea Pig Bitch again?" I snickered, "Those blue streaks in your hair last time were really cute." I laced my fingers through the silky red locks.

"No," Fred mumbled, blushing a bit, "I just... said I'd let George name our firstborn."

I stared for a few moments and then started laughing. "Getting ahead of yourselves there," I snickered, cuddling up under Fred's chin, "Babies are years and years in the future. And there is no way in hell I'm letting Georgie name any of them."

Laughing breathlessly, Fred held me tighter.

"That's what you think," George huffed, flapping his copy of the catalogue in my face, "I have a legally binding oral contract. Now hurry up and give me an autograph so I can retreat from your disgusting shows of affection."

"Ya, ya," I laughed, turning in Fred's embrace, taking the catalogue and a quill from his brother. "To Georgie," I read as I scrawled the words on the cover, "My number one most perviest fan. Love, Leda Chiot." I scratched a big star at the end of the sentence, and then handed everything back.

"Wicked," George grinned, ogling as he flipped through the pages, "This'll be worth a lot of money someday, when you're all rich and famous. But I'll never sell it. Because it's special. And mine. And hot."

Fred kicked him in the shin.

"Ouch!" George yelped, glaring, "Merlin, a guy can't even appreciate hotness these days." He limped off, still grumbling.

"Have a good night, Georgie," I called after him, still leaning against Fred's chest.

Fred smiled against my neck. "Alone at last," he muttered, kissing me, tightening his grip, "You up for a walk?"

"Mhmm," I hummed, closing my eyes, "Sounds nice. Where to?"

"That," the redhead answered with a bright grin, "Is a surprise. Now let's order some dinner to go."

xxXxx

While Fred had his back turned setting down a picnic blanket on a quiet lakeside slope, I shook the hell out of his butterbeer. Grinning at my own deviousness, I then replaced the bottle 

(being sure to keep track of which one it was) and began amusing myself by taking in the breathtaking view of the castle from the far side of the lake. The broomride across had been quick but nice, mostly done just so Fred could hug me close while he flew so close to the water that we could kick sprays of it up at each other.

"Alright," the redhead declared. With one last flick of his wand, a handful of floating candles sparked to life all around us, glittering off the glassy lake and making our surroundings slightly less ominous. Fred flopped down on the checked blanket and shot me a bright grin, "We're set." His hair was sexily damp.

"Fantastic," I replied, handing him the shaken bottle before I stretched out on my back at his side. I grinned, popping my own drink open and taking a long swig. The hillside was angled just enough for me to do so comfortably, without choking and looking stupid. "So is this charming picnic the surprise?" I questioned, nudging his shoulder, "Or is there more?"

Grinning deviously, the young man put a thick around around me, pulling me snug against him, and cooed, "Oh, there's more. Much, much more. You should prepare yourself to be astounded. And then amazed. And then slightly frightened. And then amazed again. And then probably very turned on." He waggled his ginger eyebrows.

"Really now?" I challenged impishly, "Sounds like some surprise. Are you sure I'm worthy of such awesomeness?"

He flinched, turning towards me and suddenly looking very serious. "Always, Stel," he murmured, reaching across to sweep my bangs away from my eyes.

"Joke, Freddie," I sighed, regretting the comment, "I didn't mean anything by it."

"You really have no idea how amazing you are, do you?" he continued, acting like I hadn't spoken. He pressed his cheek against mine, whispered hot against my ear, "You're brilliant and stunning and funnier than anyone I've ever met. The world became a far greater place the minute you came into it. I could be a king, Stel, a god, and I'd still never deserve you."

"Shut up," I countered, turning away to hide a bit of a furious blush, "If I'm not allowed to be self-deprecating, then you aren't either."

Fred playfully rolled his eyes, a hand finding its way inside my leather jacket and to the small of my back to press us close together. "I just don't get how you don't see it," he complained, his chest rising and falling with a long sigh, "I'm going to have to make it my life's mission to make you. There's no other option."

"I think-" I responded, smiling hesitantly, "I think I could get onboard with that plan."

His grin spread slow, stretching his freckles and plumping up his dimples, making his blue eyes shimmer in the candlelight. His fingers slid in nonsense designs along my back and hip, warm and soft inside my jacket. Fred leaned across, closing the slight space between us and kissing me gently, guiding to me lie down on my back.

We both shivered and held our breaths.

Oh yeah. I could definitely get onboard with his plan.

We stayed just like that for a few long minutes, kissing slow and sweet, touching almost innocently, keeping warm by keeping close.

Because, see, the thing about Fred is that he's just about the nicest, most caring guy in the entire fucking world. People forget, what with the pranks and smartarse mouth, but he really is all heart. He goes out of his way to cheer people up, laughs and prods and offers up hugs where they're needed. And both twins are touchy--Merlin, are they touchy--but Fred likes soft, likes comfort and warmth, giving them and getting them. That's why he piles mounds of pillows and quilts onto his bed and can't sleep unless he's burrowed snug under them, why he always been so fond of running his hands over everything, combing his fingers through my hair, why he's perfectly content to do nothing more than snuggle me close for as long as I'll let him.

But I guess I kept expecting him to push, just a little, for more. Hands lower. Kisses deeper. Bodies closer. Any of it. I didn't not want it but I had to keep expecting so that I could keep psyching myself up for it because... well, I was mostly ok with touching. When I knew it was coming. But since Claire, unexpected contact had been making me flighty and nervous and, in the worst cases, slightly violent. I just didn't want to flinch or freak out or lash out when Fred finally got around to touching me a little more intimately. And I fully thought he would try.

But after awhile, he pulled back, lips puffed up and a little shiny. He stared hard at me, forehead furrowed so that a cute, thoughtful little dimple showed up between his eyebrows. I reached out to smooth it with one deft thumb.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked, one hand flexing gently on my waist, where it had stayed for the duration of our make out session. He had himself propped up on the other elbow, resting it on the blanket near my head.

"I'm fine," I responded, breathing a little heavily while I stared up at his puzzled expression. I let my hands drag from his face to his shoulders to his chest.

"Are you sure?" Fred repeated, fingertips skimming just above the waistband of my denim skirt.

I couldn't help the startled intake of breath or the fine tremor that ran through my body. Suddenly, I realized that I was shaking.

"Cold," I quickly explained, not entirely lying because it was sort of fucking freezing. I smiled weakly.

"Oh," he replied, pulling me closer, trying to shield me inside his robes and fold the picnic blanket around my bare legs. "Should've said so," the redhead grumbled good-naturedly, pressing a slightly scruffy kiss behind my ear, "And worn pants. Not that I'm complaining or anything..."

Giggling, I snuggled into his broad, very warm chest. "Didn't exactly know about this devious plot of yours, now did I?" was my playful reaction, "Speaking of which, I was promised there was a bit more to it."

"I'm getting to that," Fred mouthed into my neck, rearranging us so that we were both on our backs, my head snug on his shoulder and his arms snug around me. "You see up there?" he said, pointing to a small, bright cluster of stars before putting his arm back where it was and waiting expectantly. The boy was grinning and almost giddy with excitement.

"Mhmm," I responded, comfortable and warm, relaxing steadily.

"Those are planets," Fred said, quite pleased with himself for knowing, "Won't bore you with the details, but I happened to have discovered in Divination that tonight they are aligned perfectly for both of us to find our true loves-"

"Little late," I teased, despite the fact that I was quite certain my smile was going to break my face, "Already found mine."

"Didn't let me finish," the young man pouted, his voice a steady rumble vibrating all the way through my body, "They're aligned perfectly for both of us to find our true loves, but, seeing as that's happened, the alignment is also favorable for strengthening bonds already in place, as well as fostering trust and overcoming obstacles that seem unovercomable."

I knew what he was talking about, what he was hinting at. "Not a word," was all I could grumble, willing myself not to breakdown.

"It's ok, Stel," Fred murmured, squeezing me tight once more, bending to press a kiss to the top of my head, "I just mean... I was just going to say that I won't try to push you anymore. That I'm sorry I tried to before and I trust you and I know you're working through a lot of things so it's alright if you don't want to tell me some of them just yet. Don't until you're ready. I'm not going anywhere and I'll wait for as long as you need."

I might've mumbled something about caring bastards who were too sweet and too charming for their own good. Hard to tell with the almost painful knot settling in around my heart.

"Just, you know," Fred went on, "Keep in mind that I love you like crazy and that there's nothing in the world that could change that. And I'm here whenever you need me for anything."

I really didn't know what to say. After a long, speculative pause, during which I very carefully chose my next words and forced down tears, I replied, "Someday, Fred. I promise I'll tell you someday. Just not now. I just- I can't-"

"Shh, love," he soothed, craning to kiss me again, "You don't have to explain. That's more than good enough for me."

We settled quietly, staring up at the stars and our planets as they moved through our favorable alignment. I didn't feel any influences from them, but I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed being with Fred.

"Love you, too," I whispered, feeling his smile through the way his whole body got warm, through the way he pulled mine impossibly closer and breathed a relieved sigh.

Later, his bottle of butterbeer sprayed him in the face, and I laughed until I thought I would be sick.

xxXxx

And, well, when I tell this next part, just keep in mind that I have never possessed very much self-control. I mean, shaking Fred's butterbeer, causing general mayhem of the sort, not being able to keep my mouth shut, they're all symptoms of my lifelong affliction. Remus told me once he thought it was genetic, what with my dad being the same way, not to mention my mum's 

slightly devious streak. So I try not to feel bad about the whole thing because, well, it's not really my fault then, is it? And, honestly, this opportunity was just too good to pass up.

So, anyways, Madame Malkin had this grand unveiling sort of thing for the new line that was being released in the catalogue. It was a pretty swanky dig, and, of course, yours truly was a guest of honor. This big party was at Coven, the exclusive nightclub that Ozzy had taken me to a few times, and I'd harangued the artist himself into being my date for the evening. All manner of wizarding socialite was in attendance.

Since the inside of the club was decorated with moving pictures of me dressed in the robes from the line, I'd chosen to wear a rather lovely silver number, low-cut but floor-length and simple, understated. I looked fucking hot but didn't distract too much from the pictures of me strutting and twirling, posing and pouting, etc. and etc.

I had a pretty great time, getting to meet lots of famous, interesting individuals. A few agents gave me their cards, as did other designers and some skeevy arseholes trolling for a pickup. All night people kept coming up to me, saying how great I looked. It was just starting to get slightly unnerving when she took her turn.

I didn't recognize the woman at first, hadn't seen her in... jeez, probably about ten years. She still had that same pinched look on her face, the just-smelled-shit look that had given her wrinkles she had to cake makeup onto to attempt to hide. "Hello, Miss Chiot," she said, tall and thin and blonde, offering her emaciated hand, "My name is Narcissa Malfoy, and I'd just like to say that you look simply stunning."

I had a brief moment where my confusion, terror, and rage mingled almost painfully. Then I smiled. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Malfoy," I told her, insipid but determined as I shook her hand, "It means so much to me to hear that from someone of such obvious taste. And please, call me Leda."

Actually, her robe was kind of hideous, a pale yellow that made her look jaundice. She beamed and obviously didn't recognize my lie or the fact that I was her cousin's daughter, the one who'd broken her sons arm in three places when I was around six.

It took most of the rest of the night, and a considerable amount of alcohol, but I managed to cozy up to my father's cousin, to bite down my nausea and hate and flatter her from head to foot, to get her to declare that I was a wonderful young woman with a monumentous career ahead of me and that we absolutely must have a lunch date. I eagerly agreed, and the date was set for the following Friday afternoon. The universe was continuing to deliver opportunities for mischief directly into my lap.

xxXxx

But, really, mischief wasn't my only motivator for the lunch date. After my dad was taken to prison, the Ministry seized my parents' assets, including our house and everything in it. My mum never got anything back, but, through some obscure loophole and a whole lot of shady dealings, Dad's family, namely one Narcissa Malfoy, took possession of our possessions, ripping apart the scraps of the tragedy.

Well, one of the things that she took was my dad's desk. He only really used it to stash candy and the childish drawings I made for him regularly. He was always saying how I was a brilliant artist.

He'd mentioned during one of our mirror-talks that he wished he still had those drawings.

Tonks had mentioned that it was likely Narcissa still had the desk in Malfoy Manor.

And that was where I came in.

I really couldn't believe Narcissa didn't realize who I was. I mean, I guess it had been a long time since she'd seen me, but... it was eerie. But to her I wasn't Stella Black. I was Leda Chiot, an up-and-coming model with a likely lucrative career ahead of her.

We had tea in a lacy parlor and were served by a flighty, likely abused house-elf whose constant, compulsive bowing had worn away the tip of her long nose and given her back a large hump.

"You have a beautiful home, Narcissa," I simpered, sickly and awed and for the third time since arriving, "I just can't get over it. I don't think I've ever been anywhere so lovely."

She beamed. That house was her life. She'd spent years filling her boring days filling the cold manor with expensive baubles that were supposed to prove how much her husband loved her. "Thank you very much, Leda," Narcissa replied, pride in her screechy voice, "I'll be sure to give you a tour after lunch. In the meantime, why don't you tell me about yourself?" She blushed. "I'm afraid I don't hold my liquor all that well, and I can't remember much from the night of the party."

That sounded about right. She was wasted. If wizards had karaoke, she would've definitely been belting some off-key classic rock ballads.

"There's not very much to tell," I answered sweetly, "I'm an only child, and both my parents died when I was very small. I lived in boarding schools for most of my life. I attended Beauxbatons when I was of age, and when I graduated, Ozzy discovered me while I was on holiday in the States. This catalogue of his aunt's was a perfect way to break into modeling."

"Indeed it was," Narcissa agreed, sipping at a ridiculous bone china teacup, "You've made quite an impression. Madame Malkin tells me her business has nearly doubled since the catalogue launched."

I smiled. "That's wonderful!" I said, though I already knew, "She's been so good to me, and I wish her only the best."

My dad's evil cousin made a sort of blandly happy and agreeable face at me, setting down her cup. "Of course, dear," she cooed, "So you attended Beauxbatons? Do you speak French?"

"Oui," I giggled, "Quite fluently, along with Gaelic, Greek, Arabic, and some African languages. I hope next to learn Hebrew, Spanish, and Japanese next... Parlez-vous français?"

"Oh no," Narcissa laughed, "I've never had the head for it. But that is quite remarkable. You are a talented young woman."

We continued on with the small talk for a bit longer. I won't bore you with anymore because I don't really want anyone killing themselves to escape it. Ha.

Anyways, after sitting through another fifteen minutes or so of such nonsense, Narcissa received a floo call from the man who was redoing the marble countertops in her kitchen. He said there was a problem with the marble shipment; he wasn't certain if it was exactly what she wanted and would she please come at once to look at the stones?

"I'm sorry, Leda," she told me, flipping on a chic travel cloak, one of Madame Malkin's new line, "This is urgent. I've been waiting on these stones for weeks and any delay will set the whole project back even further... Daniel assures me it won't take longer than a half hour, so if you don't mind waiting, I'll see you get the tour while I'm away, and lunch will be served when I return. TULLY!!"

The house-elf with the raw nose and humpback appeared, already folded over into a low bow. "Yes, missus?"

"Please show Miss Chiot around the house. Make sure she gets whatever she wants."

"Yes, missus," the house-elf squeaked.

"Thank you, Narcissa," I replied, smiling, making a mental note to seriously also thank Daniel when I saw him. He really didn't like Narcissa and had been eager to help me with this plan. Hell ya I set it all up. Took a lot of planning and research, but I'm a criminal mastermind and it worked like a charm.

So Narcissa left, and I followed the little gray-green creature for a few minutes, listening to her go on about what country this painting was from and how expensive that carpet was and how wonderful Missus Narcissa's taste was.

"Tully," I finally said, producing an old photograph from my skirt pocket. The picture showed my dad and me sitting at his desk, coloring and laughing and happy. I held it out to the house-elf. "Does your missus have this desk in the house?"

Tully nodded.

A giddy thrill leapt into my throat. "Can-" I stuttered, mouth suddenly dry with excitement, "Can you show me?"

Again, the little house-elf nodded. "Missus says Miss Chiot gets whatever she wants," Tully squeaked, taking my hand.

A blink later, a sensation like sidealong apparition swamped my body, that squeezed-through-a-straw unpleasantness. Then we were in what looked like a dark attic.

Tully was already letting go of my hand and pulling a dusty sheet off a large lump in the corner.

And there it was: my daddy's desk, simple dark wood covered in spots of clawmarks and glitter fingerpaint.

I gasped, nearly in tears. I had to gain control quickly though. "Tully," I instructed, smiling at the creature, "I want you to cover your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you to." I could tell the house-elf was confused but it's really not their style to question orders. She did exactly what I asked.

And then I worked quickly, opening drawers and indeed finding yelled stacks of my old drawings. I definitely shed a few hurried tears, but I worked through them, taking out my wand and shrinking the desk down. I stuck it snugly into my pocket.

Next, I moved a stack of crumbling boxes into where the desk had stood and whispered a spell. In just a few moments, they were a perfect replica of Dad's desk. It would remain a viable stand-in for as long as no one tried to use it. But from the state of the attic, it seemed like the various furniture got few visitors.

Mission accomplished.

"Ok, Tully," I beamed, kneeling in front of the house-elf, "You can open your eyes."

She did, blinking at me and the desk.

"Your missus said to give me whatever I want, right?" I prompted.

Tully nodded, slightly bewildered. The sore on her nose looked infected.

"Well, I want you to never tell her or anyone else about this part of the tour," I said, smiling and petting Tully's sparse purplish hair, "Not ever, no matter what. Can you do that for me?"

"Miss Chiot gets whatever she wants," the creature replied, bowing, "Tully will not ever tell."

"You are the most loyal and obedient house-elf I have ever met," I told her, grinning almost out of my skull.

Tully blushed and beamed. House-elves love that sort of shit.

xxXxx

After getting the desk, I couldn't wait to get out of there, but, to keep up appearances (in case I ever wanted to come back for a second round of reclaim-my-family's-stuff-from-the-greedy-bitch; I was sure she must have my mum's jewelry), I stayed until Narcissa returned and sat through a long lunch with her. She mostly talked about her new counters.

Afterwards, I said I had an appointment to meet Ozzy to discuss another shoot, and I got the fuck out.

I giggled and laughed joyously on my broomride back to the Burrow, loop-de-looping and acting generally insane. It was the middle of the day, so Mr. and Mrs. W. weren't home when I got back.

I wasted no time getting the desk back to normal size and raiding the drawers. There were a lot of drawings, pretty much every scrap I'd ever scribbled on before my dad got taken away. I chose a few that I knew were his favorites and wrote him a letter:

Dear Padfoot,
Happy late Christmas! There's more where these come from, but I thought too many at once would count as owl cruelty.

Call me anytime! Love you! XOXO!

I put everything in a large envelope and flooed quickly to Hogwarts.

xxXxx

Harry was just getting out of Potions when I found him. He looked tired and gloomy, lagging behind Ron and Hermione, far behind the rest of the class in general.

I stalked him for a few turns and then full-body tackled the boy into a small alcove.

He yelped and lashed out blindly, only calming when he heard my giggle. "Stella?" he gasped, going limp, "Merlin's balls! You scared the piss out of me!"

"Ever so sorry, little bother," I grinned. And, no, that's not a typo.

I shoved the envelope into his hands. "Need this delivered to Padfoot." I leaned in close to his face, well inside the personal bubble, and demanded, "Can you handle that?"

His green eyes were huge and a little frightened. "'Course," the teen replied, "God, Stel, of course. But are you... alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I chirped, giving Harry a hand up, smiling, "It's a great day, and I'm feeling only the really fun kind of crazy!"

I had a thought.

"I want to hear a song," I told Harry, noticing Ron and Hermione arriving frantically in the opening of the alcove, "Sing for me, little bother!"

Harry hesitated and then, seeming to remember his earlier promise to do whatever it took to make thigns up to me, weakly began, "There was a farmer had a dog, and Bingo was his name-o. B-I-N-G-O. B-I-N-G-O. B-I-N-G-O. And Bingo was his name-o."

"Aw," I laughed, slinging my arm around Harry's bony shoulders and grinning at the other two musketeers, "He sang a song about a dog. That's just awesome. Five points."

I slapped Harry on the ass and then moved away from him. I hugged Ron, commenting, "You got hella tall," then Hermione, adding, "You got hella hot. Have babies with Ronniekins already."

Walking away from the stunned trio, I sweetly called, "Make sure that letter gets there, little bother, or I'll harm you in ways so creative and disturbing that they'll probably get me locked right back in the whack shack!"

xxXxx

I was still humming Bingo when I found the twins. They were sprawled out on the floor in an unused classroom on the seventh floor, surrounded by stacks of books and parchment. Anyone else might've thought they were doing homework. I knew better.

"Inventing up a storm?" I greeted brightly, plopping between the boys and giving them both a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Fred tugged me down into a much longer, more fiery one that was definitely not on the cheek.

After a few lovely minutes, I heard George sigh, laughing, "Well, we were. What brings you around, darling Stel?"

"Had a letter for Padfoot," I replied, as soon as Fred stopped otherwise occupying my mouth. I shifted to lean my head against George's shoulder, snickering, "And I got Harry to serenade me."

Fred chuckled, "Should I be jealous?"

I giggled, "Only if your IQ suffered a catastrophic drop since last we spoke."

Fred smirked, answering, "Noted."

They were working on a line of treats that would give people minor injuries or illnesses with which they could skive out of class. And, for a few hours, it was just like good old times again, the twins and I putting our admittedly brilliant heads together to concoct all sorts of goodies. The time flew by like nothing.

"Starving," George finally grumbled, stretching out to grab a basket packed full of food, courtesy of the house-elves in the kitchen.

"I could eat," I replied, my head in Fred's lap. The redhead made a small sound of agreement, playing with my choppy blonde locks. "Dinner while we finish the last potion equation, then call it a night?" Fred suggested, yawning rather adorably, like a tuckered out puppy.

Already three hearty mouthfuls into a pair of very substantial sandwiches, George and I grunted our approval.

And, as was usually the case when we were hungry and finally faced with food, the three of us didn't really say too much while eating it. Well, until my nose started gushing blood.

"Oh, what the hell?" I grumbled, already dripping onto my clothes and purposely onto Fred since I knew it had to be his doing as I tried desperately to hold back the hot fountain.

Both twins laughed uproariously, Fred snickering, "Consider this payback for the butterbeer... any adverse effects?"

Acknowledging that I probably did have the retribution coming and that research was vital, I rolled my eyes and responded, "None thus far. But I don't think there should be quite so much blood all at once. Having customers bleed to death won't be good for business."

"It's theatrical, but it should be impossible to lose enough blood to do any actual harm," George informed me, looking quite proud of the invention, "As long as you're not feeling lightheaded. That's what the Fainting Fancies are for."

"Of course," I said, rolling my eyes yet again.

And then everything sort of got... fuzzy. It felt like I was being squashed, sinking rapidly down into the floor, Fred's and George's concerned faces swimming up above me somewhere, getting farther and farther away until the sinking, squished feeling finally stopped and they were hovering at least a mile above me...

"What the hell?" I muttered, holding my forehead and struggling to my feet, achy and suffering from a quite severe case of vertigo. The twins' nostrils looked huge.

Neither of the boys answered, gaping down at me like I'd grown another head. Which, you know, was always a possibility. Something had clearly gone wrong.

"Merlin, Stella," Fred breathed, horrified and amazed all at once, kind of loud, "You... you shrank."

I stared up at him, for some reason disbelieving as I demanded, "What? No. That's not... how could I have shrank? You two can't have screwed up a nosebleed potion that badly!"

They exchanged one of their Looks. And then Fred reached down and scooped me off my feet, up off the ground.

With one damn hand.

Sprawled on my back in the young man's calloused palm, I almost had to close my eyes against the sickening lurch of motion that came as Fred brought me up closer to his face. Still dizzy from the ride and the shrinking, I couldn't find the coordination to stand but did manage to note that I was roughly the size of a small mouse.

Far too shocked to be freaking out quite yet, I looked up and told them, "Oh, you two are so dead."

xxxxxxxxxx

What's the verdict? Too random? Just random enough? How often do I end up asking that question? Hehe. Anyways, I am once again sorry for the delay. School's been out for awhile, but my life seems to have gotten even more hectic. I'm working hard whenever I can on updates, so try to be patient with me. And reviews, as always are my crack. Or my anti-drug. Whichever floats your canoe :)