O
PHILOTES
Friendship
The hand shook as it dabbed the quill in ink.
She had no idea what to write.
She had to write something. Especially now. In a matter of hours, the papers would be released and the truth would finally be revealed. Or most of the truth. She had requested that her personal tragedy be kept out of all reports, but many still knew about it - enough people for word to spread.
And now she owed an explanation to the person who had started off the recent chain of events.
Dear Hope,
This was Hope. Hope Lupin. The baby she had once held in her arms. The child, now adult, who had been with her all her life, unaware of the impact she had once made on a young woman who would later become her teacher, simply because her birth had coincided with a devastating personal tragedy.
Marietta had never been able to forget the tiny baby with her blue eyes and red hair. And when she had come face to face with her as a teenager, still with blue eyes and red hair, she had not known what to do or how to react. She could not help but feel anger, every time she looked at Hope and remembered her loving family, and her mother's love that Marietta felt she had deserved to experience too. Guilt was strong, whenever she remembered the act she had considered back at the hospital. There had even been frustration, now and then. The girl's friends and relatives were the best Aurors and Ministry officials of the age, and yet none of them had managed to figure out the truth about The Surge.
Love had perhaps been the strongest emotion of all, although Marietta doubted Hope had ever known it. She had grown unbelievably fond of her over the years, had even seen some of her own struggles mirrored in her student, but she had never known exactly how to help her, and every attempt at doing so had gone wrong.
Then, three short months ago, she had thrown Hope out of her office for being brave enough to put forward the question Marietta had prayed to be asked for two decades. Had Hope not spoken up, Marietta would still be stuck in an endless cycle of grief, longing, regret, anger, grief, longing, regret...
The cycle had been broken the minute Hope had uttered the name William Bulstrode.
"I - I thought it might help," Hope had stammered. 'If you knew about it."
Marietta put her quill to the parchment and began to write.
o
o
Michael was waiting for Hope at the back door of the Leaky Cauldron, eyes wide and concern on his face.
"Hey." He came forward the moment she appeared. "What's up? Are you alright? James said you had to go home."
"I'm fine. Honestly." A bit embarrassed already for her hasty decision, Hope did her best to explain.
"I went to my parents'," she said. "They filled me in on the Flint situation, but it was all a bit much. I just-" she shrugged "wanted some company, I guess."
"Yeah." He nodded, holding open the door for her and indicating that she should come upstairs. "Yeah, of course. We can hang out all you want. I'm not even tired, to be honest, after the madness of this evening!"
Michael's room looked much the same as it had the last time Hope had been up here, and held the same comforting smell of fresh linen mingled with aftershave. Dot, who had been in Hope's pocket, made a beeline for his corduroy sofa in the corner and pushed herself into the soft green folds of material. Michael grinned at the pygmy puff before turning to Hope.
"Do you want some food?" He gestured to several boxes sitting on his desk and plucked a fizzing whisbee from a half finished packet. "Ellie sent me home with a ton of leftovers. Trying to get rid of the evidence. She's still paranoid their parents will find out."
"I'm OK, thanks." The mere thought of eating was enough to turn her stomach, and Hope cast around for something trivial to say instead.
"So Bella was annoying you?"
"She's such a pain," Michael groaned. "You know, Beth made me feel bad the other week, so I did try and make an effort. Shouldn't have bothered. Swash spent half an hour telling me about her new flat renovation, then insulted my jumper. Told me it looked like someone had died in it."
He surveyed the navy blue wool indignantly, and Hope laughed, already feeling calmer.
"Was it good though? The rest of the party."
He brushed a speck of sugar off his hands and gave her a deep, searching look before replying. It was uncanny in that moment how much he looked like Neville, having one of his serious conversations with her after a Herbology lesson.
"Do you really want to know how the party was or do you want to talk about the Flints?"
"I-" Hope thought for a half second. "I want to know how the party was," she said, leaning back onto the wall and resting her head against it. The thought now, of recounting everything her parents had told her and explaining her own role in recent events, at ten minutes past midnight, was exhausting in itself.
Michael did not object.
"OK then. Full account of Beth's wild night coming up." He came closer. "Do you want a hug first? You look like you need one. And you know how much I pride myself on giving good hugs."
"Yes, you are very smug about that," Hope agreed, but she had already let him pull her close, the wool of his jumper soft and comforting against her cheek. There was a remarkable amount of strength in the embrace, considering Michael couldn't even throw a dodgeball in a straight line, and the tension that had been present in her chest since hearing her mother's account was immediately eased. For a moment Hope wondered if she was going to burst into tears again, but the urge passed without any deliberate attempt on her part to push it back, for which she grateful. Dot, apparently feeling that she was missing out on an important event, left the sofa and returned to her spot on Hope's shoulder.
They had hugged before, but never had Hope felt such reluctance to let go, nor experienced the flustered feeling that came with it as they finally broke apart. Michael cleared his throat, as though embarrassed, and Hope went to sit on the sofa while he kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed, hands behind his head.
"Right. The party," he said. "It was carnage by the time I left and it's still going on! I hope Beth remembers her cleaning spells because she is going to need them. Alice Johns was a total state, couldn't stop throwing up-"
"Yes, I noticed," Hope said, remembering Alice's sickly complexion before she had left.
"To give her credit she made it to the toilet each time," Michael said. "But then she fell down the garden steps and cracked her head open. She's alright," he added, as Hope's eyes widened in alarm. "Esme patched her up. She'll be feeling like death tomorrow though. Then Beth found Lewis up in a guest room with a girl who came with one of the Horklumps. Bit awkward, she thought she'd been invited along as a friend. He thought it was a date. Beth kicked him out of the house before he could punch Lewis in the face."
"Which teammate?"
"Steve. Looks like a frying pan has hit him in the face?"
"Yes! I know the one." Hope had an instant moment of recognition and scowled. "He tried to grope me earlier so I don't have much sympathy."
"He's disgusting," Michael agreed. "Beth had finally got him to leave when Swash's friends turned up. They'd all been out drinking in London first. Turns out Swash is the least annoying of them all, if you can believe that. They all dress like her though, so they received a fair amount of attention..."
Curled up on the sofa with Dot nestled in her neck, Hope continued to murmur some replies, but her limbs were getting heavier by the second. Michael's words began to blur into a haze of meaningless chatter and it became harder to articulate intelligible responses. She felt warm and comfortable, and the sofa was so incredibly soft-
She awoke with a start. She was now lying in a horizontal position with a fleece blanket covering her, and a pillow had somehow been placed under her head. Michael was nowhere to be seen, his covers thrown back, but the clock on his bedside table showed that it was nine o'clock.
"You could have woken me up," Hope exclaimed to Dot, who blinked up at her unapologetically. Craning her neck from side to side to loosen it, Hope hurriedly screwed up her face so that her hair was reinstated into its normal neat red curls rather than the thick tangle she could feel sitting round her neck. Not that it really mattered. Michael had seen her in far worse conditions than sober and asleep on a sofa.
He came back through to the bedroom not long after, dressed in his pyjamas with his hair damp from a recent shower.
"You're awake."
"I might have dozed off?"
"Yes, you did. In the middle of my story about Beth's parents' paintings." He put his hands on his hips in mock indignation. Hope was reminded fleetingly of Molly Weasley. "It was a good story too."
He waved away Hope's joking apology and indicated the boxes of food Ellie had pressed on him the evening before.
"Hungry yet?"
"I am, actually!"
"I've seen the news, by the way," he said, pulling the containers towards them and opening a couple. "It's all over the papers. If you want to talk about it we can."
"Thanks," Hope said. "Maybe tomorrow?" Right now, all she wanted was an large amount of unhealthy leftover food and another dose of laughter and light hearted conversation.
"Don't tell Rox I had cake for breakfast," she said, taking one of the iced cupcakes and peeling off the cover. "The official line is I only eat healthy food except with her strict approval."
He laughed and took one himself.
"Not a word," he assured her. "Speaking of... are Dom and Roxanne going to be disappointed that your absence last night wasn't due to a sordid affair with one of Beth's handsome Horklump teammates?"
"Roxanne will be, I'm sure," Hope agreed. "Dom messaged to say she was staying at Cal's, so she won't know the difference."
His eyebrows shot up with intrigue.
"Are they together now?"
"I don't know," Hope said. "Dom's been saying for ages they are "just friends". But I'd love it to be more. They'd be so good together, and if she stayed over at his then it must be more than that now, surely?"
Even as she spoke she realised the irony of the words, and glanced back at the blanket and pillow still strewn over the sofa in the corner.
"Maybe he has very comfortable furniture in his bedroom," Michael suggested. "And she goes round to his house so she can fall asleep in the middle of his interesting stories."
Unable to think of a suitably witty retort, Hope's only response was to take a second cupcake.
O
Roxanne did indeed express disappointment on finding out that Hope's night held no more interesting activity than falling asleep on the sofa in Michael Longbottom's room. She had heard the full story of the Flints' case, and while reluctant to discuss it in detail, admitted she was worried about Morella.
"She told me everything last night," Roxanne said. "I'm seeing her again later. She's pretending she's fine but I don't think that's true. I wouldn't be. And it sounds like Cadmus is in complete denial, so he won't be any support to her."
"Not surprised," Hope mumbled. But she couldn't not feel pity for Cadmus now. His life had been blighted by lies and deceit from day one. It was little wonder his personality had developed accordingly.
"Hang on!" Roxanne sat up suddenly, forgetting her worries about Morella as something occurred to her. She pointed a manicured nail at Hope in accusatory fashion. "You weren't working last night. You were at Fitzpatrick's party, weren't you?"
Startled by the abrupt change of subject, Hope nodded slowly.
"Yeah. So?"
"So!" The wicked sparkle was back in Roxanne's dark eyes. "What, may I ask, were you doing in Michael's room at the end of the night if you weren't already at the Longbottom's house?"
Embarrassed, Hope fiddled with the cuff of her jumper.
"Um. Well, I went home for a bit and Mum told me about the Flints. Then I wanted to hang out with him... and he said I could come round. Stop it!" she added, as Roxanne's mouth twitched. "You're as bad as Lily. Michael and I are friends. That's all."
"Alright." Roxanne held up her hands. "Alright, I believe you. I didn't mean to ambush. That's saved for Dom when she finally comes home."
Nevertheless, the revelation seemed to put Roxanne in a better mood. She did not mention Morella again, Hope knew better than to force the subject and so they spent a happy hour discussing Dom and Cal instead, speculating on the could-bes and would-bes of their relationship.
The owl arrived at lunchtime, and Hope's heart gave an expectant leap on seeing that she was the intended recipient. There were only two weeks to go until the deadline for hearing back about her Carlos application. The owl, however, had not brought an acceptance letter, rather a small envelope addressed in neat, vaguely familiar writing. Curious, Hope tore it open.
Dear Hope,
I was in two minds over whether to send this letter, but I feel I owe you an explanation.
First and foremost, I am writing to express my gratitude. Thank you for having the courage to set in motion what I did not. The truth is now out, and I know you will be told the full story by those closest to you, but this would never have happened without your actions and I am deeply, deeply grateful.
I also would like to offer you an explanation. You may have felt, during your school years, that I did not always treat you fairly. Please believe me when I say this was not intentional, however there is a reason if this is how I came across. I met you for the first time when you were a new born baby. I saw you with your family in the hospital, days after losing my own child, and I visited you in the nursery several times in what I suppose was a way of managing my own grief. It was a strange experience for me, being your teacher many years later, but I know that cannot excuse treating you differently from other students, and I apologise for those occasions when I did. I also have a suspicion that you found your final years at school very difficult, and if this is the case I am sorry I did not do more to help you as your teacher and head of house.
I will be leaving Hogwarts at the end of the academic year. I am going to take some time to focus on myself and come to terms with recent events, before deciding what to do next. But I wanted to write to you now, to explain, to apologize, and above all to thank you, for giving me the courage to speak out at last. It has brought me immense peace and closure.
I sent off the reference for your Carlos application last month and I have faith that you will get your place. In the hope that one day we will correspond again in more light hearted circumstances, I wish you all the best in your upcoming endeavours.
Yours,
Professor Edgecombe (Marietta)
"Who's it from?" Roxanne asked eagerly, seeing that Hope had not moved for several moments. "Is it about your application?"
Hope shook her head. Her skin was prickling, but not unpleasantly. "Just a letter," she said, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "From... a friend."
O
Roxanne delayed going over to Morella's flat for as long as she could, but by four o'clock had conceded that Dom was postponing her return deliberately to avoid her cousin's pointed questions and, with support for Morella taking precedence, left Hope under strict instructions that on no account were they to discuss the 'Cal situation' without her. Naturally, Hope disregarded this command, and when Dom came home at six, Hope was sitting waiting for her, eyes alert and arms folded, unable to wipe the cheesy grin from her face.
She allowed Dom the chance to get herself a drink and a snack without a word, and Dom seemed to know better than to disappear off to her bedroom with an excuse.
"Come on then." She slumped down onto the sofa and swung her legs up to rest them on the coffee table. "Let the inquisition begin."
"It's not an inquisition," Hope protested. "I just want to know what's going on. With Cal," she added, grinning. "I know all about your recent work project and that dress you want to buy and how well Louis is doing at school and your argument with Vic last week. So tell me about Cal please."
Dom did not answer immediately, but Hope could tell this was because she was trying to find the right words, rather than avoiding the question all together.
"I haven't been lying," she said. "Honest. Nothing has happened between us all these weeks. We've been spending loads of time together, hanging out at his place or even going out for dinner. But nothing romantic or physical. Well-" a delicate flush spread over her cheeks. "Until yesterday."
"I knew it!"
"I do like him," Dom went on. "I always have. And I kind of knew he liked me too. But we're such good friends and I was scared of taking it further in case it ruined that. Maybe he was too, because he didn't try anything either, but then last night-"
She was speaking faster than normal, and appeared torn between happiness and embarrassment as the words tumbled forth.
"He turned round and said that he knew we'd been down this road before, and if I didn't want to take it further he'd accept that and wouldn't say another word about it, but that he knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least ask me one more time if I felt the same."
Dom went even redder at this but Hope had put her hand up to her mouth in delight.
"And what did you say?"
"I said I did. Feel the same way."
Hope waited.
"So I guess - We're together now."
Hope's jubilant squeal was so loud that Dot was jolted out of her peaceful doze on the cushion next to her and projected right up into the air, fur on end. Looking highly put out, she glared at Hope and retreated to her cage in a sulk, but Hope barely noticed. She had already given Dom a rib crushing hug.
"So he's officially your boyfriend now?" she asked. "Did he say that? Did you kiss? Did other stuff happen?"
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Not really. Don't you dare give me that look, Hope Lupin! That's what you would have said too." But Dom was laughing. "We kissed alot," she confirmed. "And I spent the night. Nothing else. I'm not keen to rush things, and I've only ever been with Alana, remember. Cal will be the first guy I've been with."
She bit her lip, then beamed. "It feels right though. Now. More than it ever did before."
"Rox is going to be so smug when you tell her," Hope reminded her.
"I know," Dom said. "And you'd better watch out, because she'll be on your case next."
"Nope," Hope said decisively. "I don't want a boyfriend. At all. And there's no point anyway, is there? If I'm going to Spain."
Her heart sank a little as she said it. The deadline for hearing back about her application was fast approaching. What if she wasn't going to Spain?
O
Despite the pending application, which turned every day into a hopeful waiting game until the time for owl post had passed, Hope managed to enjoy the following fortnight, thanks to the delightful weather and her continued success on the quidditch pitch. Cal, who often came back to the flat with her after quidditch training to see Dom, told her that Spain or otherwise, she was in with a good chance of making the professional teams come September.
"Don't say that," Hope said at once, as she unlocked the door and stood aside to let him in. Dom and Roxanne weren't back yet. "I only got back into it three months ago. I'm not up to fitness yet and I make a ton of mistakes every single match. I'm not as good as everyone says."
"Thing is, you are," Cal countered. "Of course there's stuff you need to work on. All players have room for improvement. But you're a naturally gifted flyer, on top of that you work insanely hard, and everyone knows it. Although I like to believe I knew it first," he added, with a hint of smugness in his tone, helping himself to a glass of pumpkin juice and sitting down on at the kitchen table.
Hope thought back to her first ever quidditch trial and laughed. "I couldn't believe when Dom came over said I was on the team," she said. Then she remembered how her streak on the team had ended and sighed. "I wish I hadn't quit in my final year though. It made everything worse in the end. Not to mention watching them celebrate the cup win without me was gutting."
"They didn't win this year," Cal reminded her. Hope knew this from Lily, who had been the one to capture the final snitch of the season and put an end to Ravenclaw's victorious streak. "You still played a match last season. Which makes you the only player in Hogwarts history to be part of six successive victorious teams. No one can even equal that record for at least seven years. That's pretty cool."
"It is when you put it like that."
"And maybe it did you good to have a break from playing," Cal added. "Sometimes we need time away to come back stronger."
"Is that what happened with you and Dom?" The cheeky comment slipped out without thinking and Hope was instantly worried she had touched on a sore point, but Cal took a thoughtful sip of his juice before nodding.
"That wasn't what I meant, but to be honest, yes," he said. "I doubt we'd have made a relationship work long term as teenagers, as much as I thought we could at the time. So..."
Warmth blossomed inside Hope on hearing the word relationship. She hadn't had any serious doubts, knowing Cal as well as she did, but it was comforting to have reassurance that he was as committed to Dom as had first appeared.
Dom herself returned home shortly after, and Hope watched on with discreet elation as Cal jumped up to greet her and they proceeded to mess around in the kitchen, bickering as to what acceptably constituted a post dinner snack and filling each other in on the events of their days.
It would be nice to have a person to do that with.
The voice took Hope by surprise, convinced as she was that she did not want a boyfriend, either now or in the near future. But it would be lovely, she acknowledged, to have that kind of companionship, someone to curl up on the sofa with and listen to the wireless, someone to check in if she was home late. Someone to share in the daily experiences and observations that weren't noteworthy enough to bother telling other people. Someone... special.
An hour later, however, when Dom and Cal had retreated to Don's room and Hope had crawled into her own bed, she could only feel relief that there was noone else sharing it. Pleasant as it was to imagine a cosy and committed relationship, she still wasn't ready for the reality of one.
O
June drew to a close, and while two further quidditch wins rolled in, work remained fulfilling and Cal and Dom's relationship continued to blossom, Hope began to come to terms with the inevitable. She clearly hadn't got a place at the Carlos Institute. She would have heard by now if they wanted to accept her application. She knew the rest of the family would be wondering but was grateful that none of them asked. They had all known she would hear by the end of June, and with luck they would take the hint and not speak of it again.
Nevertheless, the sting of humiliation was strong as Hope tried to put all thoughts of Spain out of her mind and fall asleep on the second to last day of June. She had been so sure that this time, she had found the right path to take.
O
She awoke to an owl tapping on her own bedroom window, and saw, even as she stumbled to open it, that it was carrying a large rectangular envelope. The Carlos logo - a tiny red panda hanging from a broomstick - was stamped onto the corner and Hope's hands trembled as she untied it from the bird's leg.
The owl, released of its burden, flew off into the early morning haze of light, and Hope shut the window with a dull thud, mustering up the courage to open the letter. Having been longing for this precise correspondence for the best part of two months, she now didn't want to know what it contained. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter if she had been declined. She had a good job, plenty of opportunities. It was not the end of the world if this particular endeavour had culminated in failure.
It will hurt though.
If only to shut the voice up, Hope ripped open the envelope in one swift movement, extracted the booklet that lay within and fumbled for the enclosed letter, catching it as it slipped towards the floor.
The first word in the main body of the letter - Congratulations - told her all she needed to know.
oOo
July
Remus read the letter Hope had handed him, eyes glowing, having returned home from work moments ago to identical expressions of excitement on his wife and daughter's face.
"We are so proud of you," he said softly. "We believed you would do it - we truly did - but that doesn't diminish our pride."
Hope doubted he knew the effect the simple words had on her. Teddy had always been the one to inspire pride in their parents, and always would, regardless of the outcome of his continued search for a permanent, inclusive Lycanthropy cure. It was Teddy who had received his prefect badge, and his Head Boy badge, his excellent OWL results and even more impressive NEWT results. It was Teddy who had, while seated at this table, passed over his own letter for his parents to read, the one that informed him he had been accepted into St Mungo's research programme. Given how she had felt on leaving school, Hope could not have imagined she may be sitting here with her own good news less than a year later, yet here she was, and she knew their pride was genuine and heartfelt, all the more so for her recent struggles and how she had overcome them.
Teddy himself arrived home as the three of them were talking animatedly about the various activities Hope would be able to do in Spain, not to mention the copious amounts of food she was keen to sample. And as her brother walked in the door, Hope's buoyancy faded. He did not appear cheerful - quite the contrary. His eyes did light up on seeing that Hope was home too, but his mouth was still turned down in the corners as he came forwards.
"I didn't know you'd be here!" He gave his sister a hug, then spotted the Carlos brochure that Hope had brought round, which was now lying on the table. "Hope! Is that -? Did you hear? Did you get in?"
"Yeah." Her thoughts still on Teddy's sombre demeanour, Hope tried to regain the positivity from moments ago as he gave her second enthusiastic hug to congratulate her. "Yes, I got in. I found out yesterday but I wanted to tell you in person." She would not be able to relax until she had asked him. "Teddy, never mind that. What's wrong?"
Tonks and Remus were waiting apprehensively too, and Hope knew it was serious when Teddy did not fob her off with renewed congratulations or insistence that it was unimportant.
"I have bad news, I'm afraid," he said, sharing a quick greeting with both parents, and sitting down at the table. "I'm sorry, Hope, to bring it now, when you're celebrating, but-"
"That's fine," Hope said at once. "What's happened? Is it about your work?"
Teddy shook his head. "My work's fine," he assured them. "All progressing on that front, although it will be another year at least until we see concrete results from the new experiment, as you know. No, it's - " He held Remus's gaze as he said the words. "Alice Longbottom died this afternoon. A few hours ago."
Tonks put her hands up to her mouth in dismay and Hope watched her father's eyes close tightly as his son's words sunk in. In her mind's eye she saw the round faced, blond woman she recognised by sight from the photo in Michael's room. Her cheerful smile, she knew, had not been witnessed for many long years now.
"She didn't suffer," Teddy went on. "It was peaceful, by the sound of it. I saw Hannah on my way out of work and she was the one who told me. She said she knew you'd want to know, Dad, in particular. As you... knew them. Before."
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose before resting his chin in his palm. "Neville did tell me," he said. "When I last saw him. The healers had advised her physical health was declining rapidly. I can't imagine that is much consolation now." Bitterness crept into his voice. "They deserved so much more from life. Both of them."
"How is Frank?" Tonks asked in uneven tones. Teddy's eyes clouded further.
"Apparently he's not doing well," he said. "Hannah said he's visibly distressed. As if he knows that she's not there anymore."
The Longbottoms had been together for forty years in that hospital, Hope realised. With only each other for company most hours of the day. And damaged as their minds were, they must have been aware of each others' presence on some level. Michael had always said they treated Neville differently from other visitors, even though there was no concrete evidence to indicate they knew he was their son.
Then, with a guilty jolt of conscience, Hope wondered who was looking after The Leaky Cauldron, if the whole family were at the hospital. She had been doing nothing all afternoon. She could have easily helped out.
"Hannah's shut the pub for general business," Teddy assured her, when she voiced this thought in distress. "And Susan's dealing with enquiries for the guests in the rooms. I did ask - in case I could do anything, or in case you were working on your own and needed help. But it sounds like they've got that part covered."
This did not provide Hope with much reassurance. She wanted to help. She could not bear the idea of sitting here idly, chatting about Spain and events that were still three months in the future, when people she loved were suffering and coming to terms with tragic news.
She excused herself early after another round of congratulatory talk she no longer had the heart for, and returned to her own room back at the flat. Dom and Roxanne were out and without them to distract her, Hope tossed the Carlos brochure on her desk, kicked off her shoes and slumped down on her bed, unable to get her thoughts in check. No matter what she did they kept straying to the poor woman who had died hours before, who had been robbed of a rich, full life with her family. To her husband who had suffered the same fate. To her son, the teacher who had been so kind to Hope all these years. And to the grandson she had never recognised as such, but would have adored, because everyone loved Michael.
Heart aching on her friend's behalf, Hope took out her Wiznote, and after many failed attempts, composed a message she hoped was appropriate, even if she hadn't been able to express the full extent of her sorrow and sympathy.
"I heard about your grandmother from Teddy. I'm so sorry and I'll be thinking of you. Let me know if I can help with anything at all xx"
Not knowing if she had done or said the right thing, Hope tried to distract herself by tidying her room, then gave up. She flicked through her brochure again before casting it aside. She couldn't get excited about Spain right now. After pulling several books off her shelves, attempting to read each one before discarding them in turn, she lay back down, with Dot on her chest, staring at the ceiling.
Her Wiznote glowed on the bed next to her and she snatched it up hopefully, but the message was only from Dom.
"Are you home? Cal's coming over and I'm running late. Can you let him in if you are?"
Hope scratched back a quick message to confirm, and the knock on the door came minutes later. Hope laughed to herself. Cal was always punctual.
"It's open!" she called, too comfortable to bother moving. "Sorry," she added, as she heard the door swing open then click shut. "I'm being really lazy. Dom will be back soon-"
She broke off in astonishment. Michael was now standing in her bedroom doorway, face pale but smiling at the sight of her curled up on top of her duvet. Rather wishing she hadn't already changed into her pyjamas, Hope pushed herself into a seated position at once.
"I thought you were Cal," she admitted, sliding off the bed.
"I'm flattered." He managed a ghost of his usual grin. "Was it my cheekbones, the muscular frame, or my prowess on the quidditch pitch?"
Hope had already come forward to hug him, but let go quickly, feeling oddly unclothed in her pyjamaed state.
"I'm sorry about your gran."
"Thanks Hope. It wasn't exactly unexpected. Yet somehow it's still come as a shock. And my Grandad's just-" he cast around for words to explain. "Lost, I suppose."
He explained how Frank had spent most of the day wandering round the ward in distress, unable to settle, visibly confused. The healers were making him as comfortable as possible but there was little anyone could do.
"So yeah," Michael concluded. "Not the best day. But Dad's coping. So's my great gran. Hey-"
He had just noticed the brochure lying on her desk, and turned the front page. "Is this your Carlos stuff? Wow, look at their classrooms. Nothing like Hogwarts, is it? And you get your own bedroom? One that looks like this?"
"Yes." Hope felt awkward. She had broken the news to Michael the day before and he had been thrilled for her, but it had been a busy shift and they had not had a chance to discuss properly. In light of today's events, her future plans did not seem at all important. "Michael, we don't have to go into it now. You've got bigger things to worry about."
"Maybe," he conceded. He did not shut the booklet. "But I don't want to think about any of it. Like you the other week when you heard about the Flints, I suppose."
Hope swallowed. She couldn't bear the dejected slump to his shoulders.
"Does that mean you need another hug?"
"Wouldn't hurt."
She put her arms around him again, less conscious this time of her pyjamas and far more aware of the fierceness with which he returned the embrace. She had never known Michael vulnerable. He had always been the strong one, the funny one, the dependable one who brought consolation to others, and to have him hold her tightly, as if he truly needed her in that moment, tugged on her emotions in ways she couldn't explain.
"So why is the emblem of this school a red panda?" he enquired, blinking more than usual as he eventually pulled away and picking up the brochure from the desk. "You don't get red pandas in Spain."
"I dunno." Hope had not stopped to wonder. "Good an animal as any, isn't it? Why is Hogwarts called Hogwarts? There aren't any hogs sniffing around the forest. How come Ravenclaw's symbol an eagle not a raven?"
"Actually, Rowena Ravenclaw had a dream that she was led to the caste grounds a warty hog - that's how the school got its name. And the eagle is a symbol of wisdom."
"Oh alright, Mr Clever Clogs. Why is Hufflepuff's a badger then?"
This did stump him. His mouth worked to try and find a retort and in the end he flipped the booklet over and read the back cover instead.
"A red panda is especially weird though," he muttered. "They aren't even native to Europe."
"You might see them in Asia." Hope reached over to scratch a bit of dust off the logo. "They are cute. Can you keep them as pets?"
"I'm not sure Dot would approve," Michael pointed out. "But if I see one in China, I'll try and smuggle it home for you."
There was a silence. One that felt awkward, although Hope could not fathom why. Michael was now looking amused at the sight of the books scattered across her desk and the pile of clothes that hid the chair in the corner.
"It's normally tidier than this," Hope said, unsure why she was bothering to pretend this was true. "When I have warning of visitors."
"I have no doubt." Hope had a suspicion he was poking fun at her. "You are famed for your tidiness, or so I've heard." Ignoring Hope's exhale of indignation, he bent down to pick up a book that had fallen from the bed in Hope's haste to get up.
"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," he read aloud from the spine. "What's that?"
"You've never heard of Charlie and the Chocolate factory?" Hope gaped at him.
"Should I have done?"
"Um. Yes. It's great. It was my favourite story when I was little. Teddy read it to me. It's about a boy called Charlie and-"
"Really? I never would have guessed. Does he go to a chocolate factory by any chance?"
Hope disregarded this interruption.
"It's by a muggle author, but it's got loads of magic in it, and in the factory they make magical sweets - a bit like Honeydukes - and they have these workers called Oompa Loompas. That's how Oompa got her name." She felt sad for a moment but Dot was on her shoulder in seconds, reminding her that she had a new friend now. Michael stroked Dot's turquoise fur fondly with one of his fingers and handed the book to Hope, but she pushed it back towards him.
"You should take it and read it," she said. "You'd like it."
"Alright." Michael tucked it in his jacket. "Thanks. I will."
He glanced at his watch.
"Look, I'd better get back. I said I wouldn't be long and Mum's in manic mode. But - um - thank you."
"Sure. Anytime."
It was only after he had left that Hope realised he hadn't given a particular reason for his visit. Nor did she know exactly what he had thanked her for.
O
Frank Longbottom died exactly a week later. His health declined rapidly after the passing of his wife and, much like Alice, he left the world peacefully, accompanied by the closest members of his family. Unexpected and devastating as the second tragedy was, Hope's impression over the days that followed was that, for the Longbottoms, there was an element of solace mingled with the grief.
"In some ways it's for the best," Michael said, confirming this a few days later, when they had all taken the time to process the news. He and Hope had finished restocking the back cupboards of The Leaky Cauldron and were now sitting against the cold brick wall in an attempt to escape the stifling summer heat of the pub. "I know that sounds wrong to say, but it was so awful to see him going on without her. He definitely knew she was gone. It's fitting, in a way, that we say goodbye to them together."
"I understand that," Hope murmured. "When's the funeral?"
"Saturday. Then the memorial is two weeks after that."
The outpouring of sympathy and condolences towards the Longbottom family had been of such magnitude that Neville and his grandmother had decided the funeral would be a closed, family ceremony, a chance for them to come to terms with their grief in private. A memorial service would then take place later in July, open to all who wished to attend, an opportunity for wizards and witches across the country to pay their respects, and a testament to the popularity of Frank and Alice Longbottom, the brave Aurors who had been dealt a tragic final hand, but whose legacy would never be forgotten.
"Would you come?" Michael said abruptly to Hope. "I know it's not the most enjoyable way to spend a Saturday, but-"
"I am coming," Hope said, almost indignant that he would need to ask. "All our family are coming. You know that."
"Not the memorial," he clarified. "I meant - would you come to the funeral? This weekend. It's OK if you don't want to," he hastened to add, seeing that Hope had frozen with wide eyes. "Or if you're busy. I just - thought - would be nice to have a friend there, that's all."
Questions and concerns flew through Hope's mind and out again in a matter of seconds. Why would Michael choose to ask her, of all his many friends? And it was to be a family service. She wasn't family - surely she would be intruding. Hannah and Neville and his grandmother might not want her there. They might deem it inappropriate. And then, looking into Michael's earnest brown eyes, she knew that such concerns were irrelevant. He was her friend and he wanted her there, and she was beginning to feel she would do anything in the world for Michael if it brought a smile to his face.
"Of course I will."
The gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes but there was a sound at the pub door before he could reply.
"I'll go, don't worry." Glad of a minute to process the unexpected turn of events, Hope went out to find Annabella Swash approaching the bar, dressed in a plain black skirt and blouse, a light weight cloak on her shoulders and her hair swept up into an elegant bun. Hope couldn't help but think that the professional look suited her better than the turquoise minidress she had been wearing at Beth's party, but then felt annoyed at her internal thoughts. She of all people should know better than to pass judgement on another's choice of appearance.
"Hel-lo Hope!"
She tried to muster up some enthusiasm. While not as averse to Bella as Michael, engaging with her required a considerable amount of mental energy.
"Hi Bella. How are you?"
"I'm well thank you, hunny." Hope forced herself not to cringe at the exaggerated - and in her opinion unnecessary - term of affection. "Is Michael here?"
At this, Hope hesitated, thinking fast. She was quite sure that Bella was one of the last people Michael would choose to talk to right now.
"No," she said. "Sorry. He had to pop out. I can give him a message though."
"Yes, please do," Annabella said. "Tell him I came by and I'm so sorry about his grandparents. They're writing a piece about them in the Prophet, with the details of the memorial and everything, but I felt we should run it past the family first. So could you ask him or his parents to drop me a message?"
"Oh." Surprised at such thoughtfulness from a girl her friends held in low esteem, Hope nodded at once. "Sure. I'll let him know."
Michael appeared moments after the sharp tap of Annabella's heels had faded away. He was staring at Hope, an odd expression on his face.
"Sorry," Hope said. "Did you hear what she said? I assumed she would annoy you, that's why I told her you weren't here. I didn't realise she had a serious question. I would have come to get you otherwise-" Her rambles tailed off. She could not for the life of her decipher the look on Michael's face. He did not appear annoyed. Nor did he look his usual self.
"I heard," he confirmed. "Thanks. I'll let my parents know."
He was still staring at her as though confused. Hope waited.
"What's up?"
"Nothing." He shook his head and blinked several times in quick succession. "All fine. Completely fine."
O
"You're going to the actual funeral?" Dom's freckled forehead crinkled in slight surprise as Hope told her the following morning.
"Yes. Don't tell Roxanne," Hope added with fervour. "Michael said it would be nice to have a friend there and I want to help. But Rox might not understand. She'll make a stupid comment about me fancying him or something. And it's not like that."
If Dom had similar thoughts in her head she did not express them.
"I won't tell her," she said simply. "And that's lovely. I'm sure the family will appreciate your support."
For all Hope's concerns to the contrary, Dom turned out to be right. When she turned up at the tiny Hogsmeade church that Saturday, feeling sick with apprehension but forcing her outward air of sympathetic calm, Neville gave her a warm smile the moment he saw her, and Hannah rushed forwards and enveloped her in a hug.
"Thank you for coming," she whispered. "It means a lot to us."
Still overwhelmed that they considered her important enough to attend such an intimate ceremony, Hope was glad to see that there were other non-relatives present, including Everett Sykes, who had been Head of the Auror Office during the first war, two of Augusta's old colleagues and Luna Lovegood, looking more conventional than Hope had ever seen her in navy blue robes with her hair in a neat French braid.
"Hello Hope. I guessed you would be here," she said, as Hope went to sit next to her, relieved to see the familiar face.
"You did?"
"Of course!" Luna did not elaborate, and Hope was distracted by the sight of Michael before she had a chance to try and extract further meaning from this pronouncement. He helped his great grandmother into her seat and turned to direct Everett Sykes to his own, before patting his father, who was sitting next to Augusta, on the shoulder. Then he spotted Hope and, to her surprise, made for the empty seat next to her.
"I'm OK," he assured her, in response to her concerned head tilt, while Luna reached over to squeeze his arm in sympathy. "Really."
Deep, soulful music was already echoing around the room. Across the aisle, Augusta Longbottom now had her her face buried in her handkerchief. Neville's face was white and set, and Hannah's cheeks were damp as she gazed towards the two, flower laden coffins at the front of the room.
One of Michael's hands was resting on the neat folds of his black robes, the paleness of his knuckles the only outward sign of tension or distress, and without thinking Hope reached out cover it with her own, her fingers, slightly smaller than his, curling down towards his palm. He responded before she had time to wonder if the action was appropriate, grasping them tightly as his eyes squeezed shut. And Hope sat in silent solidarity while the music swelled and the ceremony began, allowing herself to share in the surrounding sorrow, knowing that it would be disrespectful to do anything less, but knowing too that she would not have been able to prevent herself from crying even if she had tried, not when Michael was sitting next to her, clutching her hand, shoulders hunched and head bowed, shedding his own tears of grief for the grandparents he had never truly known.
O
The atmosphere within the group of mourners was considerably lighter once they were back at The Leaky Cauldron to raise a glass in Frank and Alice's memory. Hope had heard her parents say that a funeral often brought closure and commenced the healing process, and having now attended one herself, she thought she understood. Even Neville, who had been pale and drawn for days, appeared calmer and more at ease now, and was smiling as he engaged in conversation with Susan Finch-Fletchley, thanking her for taking care of The Leaky Cauldron in their absence.
Grace, oblivious to the surrounding solemnity, was chattering to Michael about her latest film obsession as he poured out glasses of sparkling wine.
"...and I get to watch it again tomorrow!"
"So is Elsa in it?" he enquired. Grace, far from being impressed by his memory of this detail, crossed her arms and huffed at his ignorance.
"No. Elsa is a beautiful princess. This is about an old man and his dog. And a big bird who is called Kevin, and a boy called Russell."
"Wow." Michael exchanged a glance with Hope, who was grinning. "That is very different."
"Yes, it is," Grace agreed. "And they all go to South America."
"Really? That's where I'm going soon."
Grace goggled at him, mouth forming into a giant O shape. You're going to South America?"
"Yep. Next month."
"Are you going to fly there in a balloon house?"
"No." Michael's eyes crinkled as they often did when he was amused. "No, I'm going via the International Floo Network. Much less exciting, I'm afraid."
"Oh." Grace did not appear to think much of this reply, and absorbed herself in her rainbow ice shake. "That is a bit boring." Michael raised his eyebrows at Hope with another grin and arranged the glasses of wine onto a floating tray.
"Won't you be sad?" Grace added, wiping her mouth on her sleeve to remove a large drop of milk and looking up again. "South America is far, far away."
It happened in a matter of seconds, the most fleeting of moments in which Michael's gaze drifted - as though involuntarily - to Hope, and she stood frozen as their eyes locked, a strange, plunging sensation materialising deep inside her ribcage. Her throat was suddenly constricted, as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
"Yes," Michael told Grace, tearing his gaze from Hope's face and turning back to her. "Yes, I will be sad, in some ways. But I'll be coming back. It won't be forever."
"Oh good." Unconcerned, Grace slurped up some more drink through her straw. "I might be old when you come back though."
Chortling, Michael ruffled her blond hair fondly and topped up her drink with a tap of his wand, before moving into the main body of the pub to distribute the drinks to their guests. Hope, meanwhile, stood rooted to the spot, heart still thudding, at a loss to know what on earth had just happened. She had known for a year now that Michael was leaving. She was leaving too. She had her place in Spain as she had wanted and she was excited about the fresh start. So why, suddenly, had the thought of not seeing Michael every day reduced her to the brink of tears?
"Hope?" Luna had approached the bar to ask for some radishes to put in her water. "Hope? Can you hear me?"
"Sorry." Hope started, realizing that Luna had said her name three times. "Sorry, Luna. I was in a world of my own."
Luna's pale eyes widened further as she followed Hope's gaze.
"Ah, I understand," she said, nodding wisely. "I thought a wrackspurt had got you at first. But that makes much more sense. Michael will be a good boyfriend, you know. I'm not just saying that because he is my godson."
"Oh no." Hope knew her cheeks had instantly turned scarlet. "No. Really. It's not like that. He's just a friend. A good friend. One of my best friends, even. But that's all."
Luna's mouth stretched into a serene smile.
"Neville is one of my best friends," she said. "And Harry and Ron. Rolf was my best friend too, for a long time. And then one day, he became something else."
Unable to blink herself now, Hope stared after Luna as she took up her water and went to sit at an empty table, humming to herself.
"Alright?" Michael asked two minutes later, as he returned to the bar. "What's up?"
"Nothing!" Hope's knew the high, strained quality to her voice told a different story. "All Fine. Totally… fine."
O
"It was a weird, one off moment," Hope told herself that evening. "I was emotional after the funeral and my brain went weird for a minute. There's no way I like Michael in that way. That's ridiculous. And it would be inconvenient. So inconvenient." That much was definitely true. Michael left for South America on the twelfth of August. She left for Spain on the thirtieth. And July was flying past at an alarming rate.
"Inconvenient," she repeated to Dot, who was fixing her with the usual beady eyed stare. "Tomorrow I'll go into work and everything will be back to normal. You'll see."
The following morning didn't feel so normal. Hope changed her outfit twice while getting ready for work. She checked her hair, made it blond, then black, then blue, then, feeling ludicrous, changed it back to her normal red curls. Ridiculous. Inconvenient. The day would be a perfectly normal day.
Perfectly normal day, Hope kept repeating in her head, as she arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, greeted Michael with breezy cheer and set to work opening the kegs of mead. She stocked up the butterbeer and replaced some clean glasses on the shelf, then tapped the hot water tank with her wand to check it was up to temperature. She overdid the spell and boiling water spurted out, scalding her palm.
"There was me thinking you'd got your clumsiness under control," Michael sighed, hurrying over at the sound of he yelp of pain. "You alright?"
"Yes. Burnt my hand a bit though."
"Let's see."
He inspected the blisters, fingers warm against hers as he tilted her hand towards the light.
"Ah, it's quite superficial. I can fix that."
He tapped it with his wand, muttered "Sulageo" and the burns melted away instantly.
"Better?"
She barely heard him. Her own hand was curling round his. It was aching slightly, as though too much blood were being forced into the tips of her fingers.
"Hope? You-" He was staring down at their entwined hands, visibly perplexed. "You can let go now. It's fixed."
She didn't particularly want to let go.
Ridiculous.
Inconvenient.
She snatched it away at once.
"Yes. Much better. Thank you."
"You sure you're OK?" he persisted. "You seem a bit off today."
"Didn't sleep much," Hope said airily, before turning her back on him. "That's all."
It wasn't all. The emotions might be ridiculous. They were definitely inconvenient.
But there was no denying their existence.
OOO