Note to self: never, ever set any kind of deadline if I don't know how much homework a third-year can get. Really.
Anyway, mea culpa: I know I should have published, what, like, six weeks ago?, but I had to study so much I didn't have any time left to write, so it took me an awfully long time to complete this chapter (and I had to wait the October Exams to come to an end). My professors could be compared to Death Eaters.
I have made this chapter longer than the others, but it wasn't easy to write it - it's one of the last chapters of the story, so I have to make everything fit together well, a thing I'm not very good at. If you find incongruences, please, pms me and tell me - I'll fix them up immediately.
So, I guess that's all. Sorry again for the awful delay, and enjoy!
Chapter 15: Of Birthday Parties and Runaways, of Desperate Searches and Unwanted Truths
Hermione's POV:
When I woke up the next morning, I discovered that I was just as angry as the previous night, no matter how much Emma had tried to soften my moods. One thing had changed, though: I had decided to talk face-to-face with Lavender, if not to discuss diplomatically to begin round two of our yelling match. I marched downstairs in my pyjamas and fluffy slippers, my best you-are-in-trouble look on my face, ready to fight – but when I entered the kitchen I only found Aunt Elspeth and little Tommy sitting at the table.
My anger and bellicose intentions deflated instantly like a punctured balloon, and I sighed, flopping down on my usual chair and accepting the cup of coffee my aunt pushed towards me with a smile.
"Morning," Tommy said in a small voice; he looked almost afraid of me like he thought I was angry with him too.
"Morning to you, little Tom," I said, smiling and ruffling his blond head: he had nothing to do with all of this mess we had caused, and I didn't want him to feel guilty for anything.
"Good morning, Auntie!" Emma chirped as she bounced in the kitchen, completely dressed – how she had managed that, I didn't know, since she was still sleeping when I got out of my room five minutes before. "Morning, Tommy!"
The little boy smiled, pushing his round glasses up his nose and quickly chewing on the last bite of his cookie before he jumped down his chair.
"You have breakfast while I go and get dressed – this way you won't have to wait for me before we go play outside," he explained, grinning before grabbing two more cookies from the large plate on the table and rushing out. There was no need to ask him who the extra breakfast was for – it was way too obvious.
That Lavender was avoiding me wasn't so strange, after all. The fact that I didn't even get a glimpse of her around the house for the rest of the week, though, was more than strange – it was as though she always was locked up in Emma's room, eating what Aunt Elspeth brought her upstairs and showering only very early in the morning or after I had gone to bed at night so that she was sure we didn't cross ways. Not that I was bothered, of course – I spent the whole time out with Harry, Ron and Ginny, studying or simply hanging out in the warm sun, apparently unusual for that time of the year, and I didn't have any intention of talking with her anytime soon. I had changed my mind about talking with her – it would have been useless anyway, since she apparently didn't even want to see me (a pretty hard thing to do since she was staying in my own house) and I was sure that if I saw her I wouldn't have been able to restrain myself from fighting with her again.
So we managed to avoid each other for the three days following our shouting match, and finally the 25th came, and Emma's birthday with it. It would have been the last day of Lavender and Tommy's stay in England, and as sad as I was at the thought of having to separate my little sister and her best friend once again, I was glad that torture would have been over soon.
That morning I woke up earlier than usual, carefully checking that Emma was still fast asleep before I tiptoed out of my bed and to my closet, in which I had hidden the large pink package that was her gift. It was one of those big, square boxes that kids always found so irritating because it was impossible to tell which gift was in them – I used to hate them myself when I was in grade school, and I knew perfectly well that Emma felt the same way.
I smiled imagining the look she would have had on her face when she saw the content – it was a large stuffed bunny with long floppy ears, a soft pink velvet bow tied around its neck and silky grey fur ; I had come across it two weeks before as I walked along the main street, and it was just too cute to leave it sitting in the Toy Shop's window. I had used all of the money I had left from the two months I had worked in the waiting staff of the Starbucks near my house the previous summer, but just imagining how happy Emma would have been made it worth it.
So I sat on the camping mattress that had been her bed for the last three nights – I had insisted for her to sleep there instead that with me, for after the first night I had discovered that she had developed the annoying habit of kicking in her sleep – and placed the box by my side as I gently shook her awake, singing softly 'Happy birthday to you' as she opened her eyes.
She blinked a few times and yawned hugely before she realized what day it was, and she sprang up suddenly, a huge grin on her face.
"I am six, Mione, I am six!" she cheered happily, bouncing on the mattress like a small, bushy-haired spring.
"I know, honey, I know!" I replied just as cheerfully, ruffling her already crazy hair and handing her her present. She widened her eyes and studied the box for a few seconds before she lifted it with both hands, weighing it and shaking it in the hope of guessing what was inside.
"Come on, little monkey, open it," I encouraged her, smiling as I watched her consider my words for a moment before she unceremoniously ripped away the pink paper wrapping and took the lid off the box.
"Wow!" she squealed as she took the soft bunny out, holding it at arm-length as she admired it enthusiastically. "It's super cute! I lovelovelove it!" she crooned as she hugged it to her chest, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur of its head. Without loosening her grip on the bunny, she crawled over to me and curled in my side in that way she did when she wanted a hug, looking up at me with adoring puppy eyes. "Thank you, Mione, thank you! It's fantastic!"
I laughed, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head – a not so easy thing with the stuffed bunny in between, for it was almost as big as Emma and it covered her for three-quarters.
Just then there was a soft knock on the door, and a moment later Aunt Elspeth's head poked in. She was already dressed, and the flowered apron she had on made me think she had just come up from the kitchen – suspect that was confirmed by the delicious smell that came in right after her, of sugar and chocolate and cinnamon and a hundred more yummy things.
"Happy birthday, dear!" she said cheerfully, a hundred crinkles framing her bright blue eyes as she beamed at us. Emma grinned, holding the stuffed bunny out for her to see it.
"Look, aunt!" she squealed, bouncing up and down on the mattress. "This is Mione's present! Isn't it soo lovely?"
Aunt Elspeth laughed as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, hugging us both.
"Absolutely adorable, dear, just like my two girls," she said, her face glowing with a happiness I had rarely seen before. "Come on, come on, put your dressing gowns on and come downstairs. I made a special birthday breakfast today, and it's waiting for you in the kitchen!"
We made the move to get up, when Aunt Elspeth suddenly banged her forehead with her hand, widening her eyes.
"Oh, my – I almost forgot!" She fumbled in the large front pocket of the apron for a moment, and she took out a small blue velvet box from it – it was faded and discoloured in some spots, and it looked like it was very old.
"Here, this is for you," she said, handing it to Emma. "It was mine when I was more or less your age, and it's very old-fashioned, but I thought you might have liked it."
Emma looked curiously at the small box for a moment before she gingerly opened it, as though she was afraid it would have bitten her.
"Oh, wow," Emma breathed, her eyes wide and bewildered, when she saw the content.
A thin silver chain lay in the box, and there was a pendant attached to it – a small, beautiful butterfly in the centre of which was engraved an E written in an elegant, elaborated curly script. It was incredibly simple, yet I immediately thought that it was perfect; it was delicate and old-fashioned, and it reminded me strongly of the locket Ron had given me on St Valentine's day.
"It's beautiful, aunt," my sister murmured, her fingers lightly brushing the shiny surface of the pendant.
"I am glad you like it," aunt Elspeth said, smiling and stroking Emma's hair. "It has spent the last forty years at the bottom of my drawer; it was time for it to see the light again. It's a fortunate coincidence, isn't it, that both our names begin with the same letter."
Emma nodded, smiling as aunt Elspeth helped her putting the necklace on. On her, it looked even more beautiful.
"Come on, now," I said, grinning and jumping up. "I am starving. The first one who gets downstairs eats everything!"
"Hey, that's not fair!" Emma complained loudly, following me with her new stuffed bunny still in her arms; little Tommy, probably awoken by our shrieks, poked his tousled head out of Emma's room and grinned, immediately running after us as he hastily put his glasses on – the poor kid was almost blind when he didn't wear them.
Of Lavender, of course, there was no sign.
In the kitchen, the smell was heavenly – but the sight of the incredible amount of food on the table was even better, a thing I wouldn't have believed possible until a few moments ago.
It seemed as though Aunt Elspeth had baked every existing food with chocolate in it – chocolate pancakes, chocolate biscuits of every size and shape, brownies, chocolate chip muffins, and a small, five-people-sized version of her delicious chocolate and coconut cake, Emma's favourite.
"It's my birthday, I have the right to eat it all!" Emma squealed with a grin as she jumped on her chair and grabbed a plate, immediately starting to fill it with stacks of food.
Knowing her, she would have probably eaten everything for real, so I quickly sat down, too, and I started to eat, my stomach turning and growling in anticipation: I couldn't resist Aunt Elspeth's cooking, it was far too good to leave even crumbs in the plates.
Little Tommy imitated us shortly after, and when Aunt Elspeth joined us a minute later, she found the three of us half-hidden behind the stacks of biscuits, pancakes and whatever piled in front of us.
"So, you like this special breakfast?" she asked, amusement openly visible on her face as she sat down, too, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the steaming carafe on the counter.
"Delicious," I confirmed, attacking my slice of cake.
"Fabulous," Emma added, helping herself to her fifth pancake.
"Indescribable," little Tommy agreed, brushing away a smudge of chocolate on his nose.
"Oh, you kids are making me blush," Aunt Elspeth said, her eyes bright and her cheeks coloured as she smiled. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was affected by the tangible happiness radiating from Emma.
"Less compliments and more eating, come on," she then urged us, gulping down the rest of her coffee and standing up once again. "I'm sorry I have to shoo you out of the kitchen, but we have a party starting in less than eight hours and I have to cook food for the crowd of guests who will show up long before we are ready. After all, young girls don't turn six any day now."
Emma grinned at her words, and she gulped down the rest of her breakfast in three huge mouthfuls – how she managed to eat so much and at such speed and be so skinny, I would never understand. I suspected it had something to do with perpetual motion, though.
Aunt Elspeth put some food on a tray so that Tommy could bring it upstairs to Lavender, and then we left, the kids running upstairs before me.
"Come on, Em," Tommy said happily as he pushed his glasses up his nose with one hand while balancing the tray with the other. "I still haven't given you your birthday present!"
Emma grinned and quickly followed him inside the Rose Room, closing the door loudly behind her just as I reached the landing.
I stopped in front of the white door as my mind raced around in circles, thoughts fighting one another: I wasn't sure whether I should have entered the room and tried to talk to Lavender or if it would have been better leaving things as they were. On one hand I was still angry at her for the mean things she had said and I didn't even want to see her, let alone try to reason with her, and on the other I didn't want to let her go away the next day without even trying to understand why she had suddenly turned against me. Was it possible that after nine years spent always together, not arguing even once, we couldn't suddenly stand each other anymore? Were the shards of our fallen friendship really too small and sharp to be even picked up from the floor?
I stood there, my hand awkwardly stretched towards the handle, for what seemed like an eternity; then I sighed, shaking my head and walking back to my room in silence. If she hadn't even stuck a foot out of the room for days, maybe it was better that way: it would have been useless trying to talk to her, for I would have probably ended up feeling even angrier than I already was. I wasn't the one who had to apologize. And, even if I would have never admitted it out loud, I didn't want to talk to Lavender because I was afraid to acknowledge that she now hated me.
So much of a Gryffindor I was.
As I had very little to do besides sitting alone at my window, I decided to do something useful. We had organized a party for Emma's birthday in the afternoon, and since the friends we had invited had told other friends, who had told other friends, half the town would have showed up in front of our door at four o'clock; therefore, between cooking and decorating, there enough work to do to keep me occupied until that time.
After a quick shower, I wore the clothes I had put on the chair the previous night – my favourite pair of skinny blue jeans, a white polo shirt and a light red jumper – and then went downstairs, singing softly to myself as I pulled my still damp hair back in a ponytail.
"Need a hand, Aunt?" I asked as I poked my head in the kitchen; the oven was on, and Aunt Elspeth was cutting flower-shaped biscuits off a thick sheet of buttery dough that covered the whole table.
She smiled at me, and she pointed at a spare apron hung at the hook by the counter, a chequered green-and-white thing I wrinkled my nose at – it was in Slytherin colours, after all.
I quickly put it on, tying it with a large bow on my back, and I took another cookie cutter from the small basket on the counter – this one shaped like a star.
"Ever made biscuits before?" Aunt asked me, smiling as I gingerly pressed the metal frame into the dough. I shook my head, cocking my head to the side to admire my work from a better angle.
"Nope," I said, grinning and going back to work. "But I learn fast."
We spent hours in the kitchen, first making dozens of cookies, then a huge chocolate cake that looked more like something destined to a hundred-guests wedding party than to a six-year-old birthday, and then sandwiches and every kind of party food Aunt Elspeth seemed to know – and she seemed to have a whole cookbook in her brain.
When we finished it was lunchtime, and since there was very little left in the pantry after all that cooking our meal consisted in a quick sandwich and some tea, that Emma and Tommy decided to eat outside in the yard – I couldn't blame them, it was one of those rare days when the sun shone in an almost cloud-free sky.
Was it just my impression, or I saw a flash of shocking pink sweatshirt and dirty blonde hair from the door as they went?
It was about time that Lavender finally decided to come out of that room, but the fact that she had snuck out purposefully avoiding me was annoying; it was immature, running away from problems like that.
The fact that I was running away too didn't have any importance.
An hour or so later, while I was helping Aunt Elspeth decorating the giant cake with pink and white icing, I lifted my head to look at the clock above the door, and found instead five pairs of eyes staring at me from outside the window.
I grinned, shaking my head as I wiped my icing-stained hands on a dish towel, and I stuck my head out of the window, squinting slightly in the bright sunlight.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, both amused and surprised. "I wasn't expecting you for at least two more hours!"
"Could it be that she doesn't want us here?" Fred asked, looking at me in mock offence.
"Definitely, bro," George answered, mirroring his twin's expression.
"Oh, shut up, you two!" Ginny scolded them, a very Mrs Weasley-ish look on her face; she didn't move to hit them like she usually did, though, probably because she was tucked in Harry's side.
"Yes, shut up, you two," Ron agreed, smiling at me and hitting both his brothers on the back of their heads as he passed to stand right in front of the window.
"We thought you might have needed help," he said, fiddling with his already dishevelled hair.
"Actually, he thought you might have needed help," Harry corrected him, grinning. "We are here as obliged volunteers."
"Obliged volunteers?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and staring questioningly at Ron, who looked like a little boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
"It's just a technicality," he said with a shrug, his trademark blush creeping up his ears.
"Actually, you kids could take the tables from the tool shed and place them out in the yard; I'm too old to transport them back and forth," Aunt Elspeth said, never looking up from the three storeys masterpiece she was decorating. "And you could place the decorations, too – the boxes are in the shed, along with the ladder.
"Are you sure you don't need me here?" I asked her, failing miserably at hiding my hope; the perspective of spending the following hours decorating outside with my friends was too alluring to be ignored.
"Sure; you have already saved me an hour of work helping me," she told me, looking up with sparkling eyes as she smiled.
"Thank you, Aunt!"
I quickly undid the bow on my back, hung the apron on its hook and shot out of the back door, almost stumbling on my way.
"In a hurry?" Ron asked me, laughing softly, as he caught me before I could stumble – how he could always manage to get me before I could hurt myself, I still had to understand.
"Actually, yes, since we all have been recruited to bring out tables and decorations," I answered, blushing a little as he steadied me, pulling me close.
"Which means, you boys will do the hard work while we delicate ladies sit on the grass and watch," Ginny translated, leaving Harry's side to link arms with me.
"You, a delicate lady, little sister?" Fred uttered with a snort. "It would be like…"
"…like saying that an elephant is just an overgrown grey butterfly," George finished, scratching the back of his head.
"What do you mean with that?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest; all signs that she was ready to jump on his older brothers and start a fight.
"That you aren't the damsel in distress type – and they are right, you could knock any of us out if you wanted," Harry told her, placing a hand on her shoulder; he was probably the only one that could make her anger evaporate like that, along with Luna – but Luna was able to make everyone's anger evaporate, so she didn't really count. "That's why I'd never pick a fight against you."
"And the fact that you have fancied her for years is just a secondary reason, right?" Ron scoffed, securely wrapping his arm around me as we all headed to the shed, laughing and teasing each other on our way to the end of the yard, where stood the shed – basically, a small square building made of the same large, dark stones of the house, with moss-covered slate tiles, a small window with a stained glass and a thick wooden door with rusty hinges.
With a bit of pulling from all of us and a lot of complains from the old wood, the heavy door finally opened, and I looked around, curious – I had never seen the inside of the shed before.
It was surprisingly neat – there was very little dust, and only one cobweb in the farthest corner from the door; old wooden shelves placed along the farthest wall held several boxes that contained a bit of everything, from Christmas lights to candles and old picture albums; Aunt Elspeth's gardening tools found their place on a long counter that ran along the right wall, along with two pairs of old wellingtons and a large straw hat that I imagined she used when it was sunny; an old, rusty bike that looked like it had probably been new in the early forties was laid by the door. Folding chairs and tables were stacked neatly against the left wall, along with a tall ladder, and two large cardboard boxes labelled 'Decorations' were placed in the corner, looking like they were only waiting to be carried out.
"Come on, guys," I said with a small sigh, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows. "It seems like we have a lot of work ahead of us."
Ron's POV:
"Harry, bring the last two chairs over there!" I called as I opened what seemed like the fiftieth chair – and it probably was.
"Huff!" George wheezed as he let down his end of the table and rubbed his shoulder.
"This was the last one," Fred commented, wiping invisible sweat off his brow. "Man, those things are heavy!"
"Oh, shut up," I muttered darkly as I absentmindedly rubbed my left arm; it was stinging a little, and it was sore – I wasn't used to use my arm again yet, and even not-so-big efforts could be painful those days. I could only imagine how difficult it must had been for Hermione, who had had to recover from injuries that were twenty times worse than mine; yet seeing her now, smiling and walking and running like any other girl, it seemed impossible that the accident had happened only six months before. How could she be so frail and strong at the same time?
"I'll go help Hermione with the decorations," I told Harry, who was sitting on one of the chairs with his arms linked behind his head and his glasses slightly askew. "Since your girlfriend has apparently decided to do nothing today."
"Remember that, beside my girlfriend, she also is your sister," he reminded me with a smirk, stretching in the sunlight like an overgrown cat.
"Whatever," I dismissed him with a shrug as I went.
Ginny was sitting cross-legged on the grass, chatting lightly as Hermione, perched on top of the ladder, hung a HAPPY BIRTHDAY! banner to the wall. She was standing as tall as she could, her arms and back stretched in the attempt to attach the thing to one of the ivy branches running all over the house front – without much success. I shook my head at my sister – it was unbelievable how lazy she could be sometimes – and I returned my gaze back to Hermione, who was now struggling, her fingers only an inch too far from the spot she had to reach.
I watched as she stood on her tiptoes even more, twisting her body to the side; one of her feet slipped half an inch from the ladder, and she suddenly found herself unbalanced, with nothing to hold onto.
Thanking all the keeper training that had made my reflexes so quick, I dashed across the small space separating me from the ladder and caught her before she could hit the ground, my arms tightening around her as she held onto me, her eyes wide and her hands fisted in my shirt.
"Th-thank you," she murmured shakily as I set her down; there was a spark of scared surprise in her dark eyes that made me want to pull her back into my arms and never let her go.
"Oh my – are you ok?" Ginny asked breathlessly as she ran to Hermione, grabbing her by the shoulders and checking on her with such apprehension for a moment I thought she had suddenly turned into our mother.
"That was impressive, little brother," Fred uttered, clapping my right shoulder.
"Yes, really; you have just gained a hundred points with your girl here," George added, clapping my left shoulder.
Seriously, how annoying could the two of them become?
"Nice move, mate," Harry only said as he joined us, reaching out to ruffle my already tousled hair – jeez, did he need to fuss with my hair too?
"I couldn't let her fall," I murmured, and it was true; it was a promise I had made to myself, never letting her fall again. There was no way I would have let that happen.
For that reason I refused to let her back on the ladder, and I took her place as she passed me the decorations – it was an easy job for me, as I was so much taller than her.
By the time we were finished it was almost late, so we hurried inside and then came back out carrying piles of paper cups and plates and brightly coloured tablecloths to lay the tables with; the work was left to us boys while the girls went back to the kitchen to carry what looked like an endless number of trays filled with sandwiches and cupcakes and biscuits of every kind.
I nonchalantly reached out to steal a biscuit from the tray Hermione was carrying, but she stepped aside quickly, dodging me.
"What do you exactly think you are doing, Ronald Weasley?" she asked me, the amusement in her voice evident despite her stern expression. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to hide her smile, but she somehow managed to stay serious.
"Having a cookie?" I asked innocently, putting my best I'm-a-good-boy look on my face.
"Stealing a cookie, that's different," she corrected me, dropping her severe façade for a smug smile.
"Let's trade, then," I suggested with a smirk, snatching a chocolate chip cookie from the tray in her hands.
"This," I said, showing her my loot, "…for this," I murmured as I bent forward and brushed my lips on hers. It was a childish way to steal her a kiss, but her red cheeks and the soft look in her eyes were worth it.
"Stop being so lovey-dovey and help us with this mountain of food, would you mind?" Ginny huffed, carrying a tray of large cupcakes covered in pink icing.
"Sorry, Gin," Hermione said, blushing even deeper and helping her. "Here, let me take this – Ron, could you take the jugs of tea outside? I think Aunt Elspeth's got them ready."
"Yes, ma'am," I said playfully, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her hair before I went.
I could feel her gaze on my back the whole way to the house.
Hermione's POV:
It was as though the whole town had decided to pay us a visit that day: from four o'clock on, people kept streaming in our courtyard, wearing their best clothes and a smile and carrying presents. There were Emma's friends with their parents, Madam Rosmerta, who had closed her pub for the afternoon and decided to come, Florean Fortescue, Madam Malkin, the whole Weasley Family, the Potters, the Lovegoods, the Longbottoms – including Neville's Grandmother, a scary woman with an equally scary hat topped with a stuffed vulture; and then several of my classmates, along with their families, and, to my great shock, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore, all of whom, I discovered, were Aunt Elspeth's classmates and close friends.
Now I understood why the cake was so huge.
As time passed, the pile of gifts for Emma got taller and the food on the tables disappeared; everyone seemed to have a great time – grown-ups were talking and laughing, and children were running around playing and having fun; as for us 'older kids', as Mrs Weasley kept calling us, we organized two teams and set up a football match in the lawn. After a while I called myself out, short of breath but pretty satisfied – I had managed to score a goal, even if I suspected he had let the ball in on purpose.
I dropped down beside Luna, who was sitting by the edge of our improvised field picking daisies and intertwining them in crowns and necklaces – a thing that was totally Luna-like.
"You know, Ron was really kind letting you score," she commented without looking up as she carefully studied one of the flowers in her lap. I smiled; so she had noticed that Ron's slip had been intentional too.
"Yes, he really was," I agreed, smiling and tilting my face up to the sun; the warmth felt heavenly on my skin.
"Oh!" Luna suddenly exclaimed, looking up and staring at something at the other side of the courtyard. "I didn't know you had invited her, too!"
Her voice was slightly annoyed, a thing so unusual for her that I immediately followed her gaze – who could have it been, to annoy Luna? Maybe one of the Slytherins had sneaked in the party uninvited?
Instead of the unwanted classmates I was expecting, I saw jewelled spectacles, platinum blond (and clearly dyed) curls rigid with hairspray and an acid-green jacket-and-skirt suit.
What the heck was Rita Skeeter doing there, half-hidden behind the shed?
"Oh, no way!" I growled under my breath as I saw her pick a green pen and a notepad from her hideous crocodile handbag and start writing feverishly. "Excuse me, Luna – I have an annoying bug to shoo away!"
I jumped on my feet and marched straight to the hateful woman, feeling so angry I was expecting smoke to stream from my ears at any moment.
"Hadn't I been clear, when I told you that I didn't want to see you in our house ever again in November?" I asked rudely, making her jump. Good, I had caught her by surprise – she was so absorbed in writing God knew what about us that she hadn't even seen me.
"Don't you know that you can't address to grown-ups like that, you disrespectful little miss?" she asked me coldly, clicking her tongue in a disapproving manner.
"I treat with respect only those who deserve it," I replied stiffly, crossing my arms over my chest – I didn't care I was being totally impolite, I wanted that woman away from my sight immediately.
"You are so arrogant – exactly like your father was. You think you can walk over anything and anyone, don't you?"
"Shut up," I warned her, trying to keep my voice calm. "Shut your big fat mouth up about my father – you didn't know him, you don't know what you are talking about -"
"Oh, I don't know what I am talking about? Here's the news, my dear – he was nothing but a liar! Coming here during summer, playing cool Captain America with his little gang of friends! And then he went away and never came back, forgetting about everyone he had left behind, breaking the promises he had made!"
I looked at her with wide eyes, and I felt like laughing as her words finally made sense to me. How could have I missed something so obvious?
"Breaking his promises…Oh, now I see how it is! He dumped you! I can't believe I didn't understand earlier! And you hate him so much because of that?"
"He was just a liar!" she repeated, gripping her pen so tightly her knuckles were white. "He flew back to America to go to college and forgot about me – me, whom he had known since childhood, whom was foolish enough to believe he would have actually came back! He left me for – for that American bitch he met, and – "
How dared she – saying those things about my father, about my mother -
"Don't you dare talking like that about Hermione's mother!"
What…?
I turned sharply at the shrilly cry, and I saw Lavender standing maybe a foot behind me, her cheeks red with anger and her eyes shining as she glared at the woman in front of us.
"Don't you dare – how can you so easily say those things about such nice people? You are holding a grudge against a boy who dumped you when you were, how old, eighteen?, after more than twenty years… And you even come here and talk rubbish about him and his wife in front of their daughter, when they have died only half a year ago! Are you incredibly stupid or you just are a hateful hag? I'm disgusted – what kind of a person are you?"
It was a good thing that Skeeter was at a loss of words, because I was so shocked myself to hear Lavender defending me with such force – hadn't she spent the whole week hiding from me after we fought? – that I couldn't speak myself for a moment.
"You don't have any rights to insult my parents," I finally said as I found my voice again. "If you don't have any respect for the living, at least have some respect for the dead. Now, I will tell you again what I told you four months ago – don't ever come near me or my family again. I don't care what you think, if you hate me, or my father, or the whole world – just stay away from us."
A malevolent glint flashed in her eyes, and I felt my face go even more serious.
"And don't you dare to write anything about this story – if I see anything I don't like in that rubbish you direct, I'll go straight to the police and denounce you. The police chief is a really good friend of my Aunt, did you know that? I bet he would be very eager in helping us if needed."
Apparently, she had gotten the message – the threat was more than clear in my words, there was no way she could have mistaken it.
She didn't say anything; she just huffed, her face splotched with red and her eyes filled with anger, and she stomped away, rudely shoving aside everyone she bumped into on her way to her car, a small, beetle-like thing of – no need to say – an ugly acid green (she really must have had a thing for that colour).
"I don't think she will bother you again; she isn't stupid enough to go against you, not after what you told her. I had never seen you so angry – you were scary, honestly! And the way you threatened her…awesome, really! Man, wasn't she hateful…"
I turned and looked at Lavender again, feeling more than a little surprised – I was really starting to wonder whether she had multiple personality disorders: how could she avoid me like I was a leper one day and come to defend me like that the other?
It took her a few moments to realize that I was staring at her like I had just seen a ghost, and she looked down, blushing.
"Erm…I was actually looking for you," she said sheepishly, scratching the side of her nose. "I – I wanted to…"
She sighed, rubbing her nose again, and looked back up at me – I noticed that she wasn't wearing any makeup, an unusual thing for her, and at a second look her eyes looked red and a little puffy, like she had been crying. Despite everything that had happened, I felt the instinct to hug her and ask her what was wrong, to the point that I had to cross my arms over my chest and grip my elbows tightly to prevent myself from doing so.
"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," she murmured, tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie – a nervous habit of hers I knew well. "I – I don't know what I was thinking. I was so happy to finally be able to spend some time with you, and then – I saw all those people coming to visit you, and – I felt like I was nothing compared to them. Like I didn't count anything anymore. I mean, you live in an amazing place, and you have a boyfriend any girl would kill for, and a whole bunch of funny, brilliant friends who love you a lot…You didn't need me anymore, and – it hurt. But I was so angry at myself, for not being there to support you like I had always done, that I started to act like – well, like an actual bitch, I admit that. Jeez, I was so jealous…I talked rubbish about them only because I wanted to find every flaw they had, because I know that I'm far, far away from perfect, and I absolutely wanted to believe that they weren't, either. It was so stupid – I was so stupid. And I know that you now probably hate me, but at least I wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
She was crying now, and I felt my heart squeeze – so, that was why she had acted in such a hateful way. She thought that I had replaced her with my new friends, and I couldn't blame her: seeing everything from her point of view, things looked exactly like that. I should have known better than that – she had always tended to react badly to that kind of things, getting angry and being moody and insufferable about anything to the point she actually became impossible to stand.
And now, as she sniffled quietly in front of me, her eyes fixed on her shoes, I couldn't help but feeling guilty – maybe, if I had been patient enough with her and tried to talk, we wouldn't have ended up like that. But she kept complaining about how Ron and the others kept stealing me away from her all the time, and I was so angry for not being able to be both with her and my friends that I didn't even see that she was feeling bad about it. As much as I hated to admit that, it was my fault too – even if not as much as hers.
"You are right, it was stupid," I muttered, swallowing to get rid of the lump in my throat. "And childish, and unreasonable, and you should have told me everything instead of acting like that. But, best friends are supposed to forgive you when you make mistakes, no matter how big they are, right?"
She looked up at me with wide eyes, and for a moment she looked so much like her eight-year-old self that I actually had the impression time had gone back.
"Even if you messed things up so much they look like they can't be put back together again?" she asked tentatively, her voice cracking a bit.
"Especially in that case," I assured her, feeling the corners of my lips turn up in a small smile. I didn't know whether I was being too forgiving, but I didn't care; I knew that if I let her go back the next day.
She smiled at me, and she hugged me tightly – a thing that gave me the impression of being wrapped in a huge-shocking-pink-hoodie-and-lots-of-hair sandwich; it didn't bother me, though.
We ended up sitting on the grass with our backs against the shed, looking at the football match still going on at the other end of the courtyard.
"You know, time actually passed quite fast," Lavender said after a while; her eyes were still red, but she was smiling now. "I can't believe it's been five months since you left Seattle – it seems like yesterday, yet a lifetime ago. It's strange."
"Yes," I agreed, looking up at some fluffy clouds travelling lazily in the sky – it would have probably rained that night, but the party would have gotten to an end drily. "Time really is strange sometimes."
"But everything will soon go back to normal, right?" she asked me, stretching her arms above her head. "I mean, in, how long?, three months and a half you will be eighteen, and you will come back to America – I'm really looking forward to being just across the street from you again. And besides, you have already been accepted in university last year, and you already have arranged everything with the Headmistress of our school to take your exams in August and graduate late…"
Her words hit me like a thunder, shaking me from the inside – I hadn't thought about it once since I arrived in Ottery St Catchpole. About university, and America and…
Leaving.
L
E
A
V
I
N
G
Leaving.
I hugged my knees tightly to my chest – it felt like a hollow had suddenly appeared right where my heart beat, and it was sucking away the happiness I had felt only moments before like a black hole. Leaving England meant leaving Aunt Elspeth, and Hogwarts, and my home, and my friends, and my whole life.
It meant leaving Ron.
A way too familiar pain found its way through my body – a pain that I hated and feared like nothing in the world and that I had felt only once before, the night my parents died. I wasn't ready to face it again – maybe I would have never been ready to face it.
What a coward I was.
I had known it all along – known that it was just for a year, that nothing that I could have built there would have lasted more than nine brief months – yet I hadn't been able to help it: I had put together the pieces of my life, finding a place where to stand, not alone, but with a new family I would have never even dreamed of, only to see it shatter all over again.
I wasn't sure I would have been able to stand losing everything a second time.
"Right," I murmured, each of the words leaving my mouth heaving as huge boulders on my heart. "Three months will go fast."
Was it just my impression, or I heard a small gasp as I spoke?
When I turned, though, there was no one but Lavender with me.
I was glad when Aunt Elspeth called us, a little while later – in that moment I needed a distraction like I needed air. It was starting to become dark, and it was time for Emma to open her gifts, a thing that would have taken her a very long time since there were dozens of boxes piled up by the huge cake that seemed to be waiting only to be eaten.
"I'll go find Emma," I volunteered, trying to smile and hastily getting on my feet. "She probably is playing hide and seek with Tommy and her friends around the house."
"I'll help you," Lavender offered, still a bit sheepishly, standing and brushing dirt from her jeans. "I haven't seen my brother in hours, and God knows he and your sister could blow up the house if they worked together!"
"Em!" I called, looking around the courtyard – it wouldn't have been easy to spot her, with all those children around. "Emma, come on – time to open your presents! And the cake, too – don't you want to eat it?"
"I bet she is so absorbed in some game she can't even hear you," Lavender mused with a smile. "Come on – if we find my brother, we will find her too."
As we walked across the lawn, a little girl with short spiky hair and green eyes bumped into me, tripped and fell onto the grass. I smiled at little Alice's exuberance; even Emma was second to her when it came to vivacity.
"Sorry, Hermione," she apologized with a smile, jumping back on her feet and checking on her frilly dress – I had seen her enough around my sister to know that she had an insane love for clothes, even if she was only five. "Oh, pity – here comes Alexis, I've lost again."
A pale, round-faced girl with flaming red pigtails came running and touched Alice's back, screaming in delight: "Gotcha!"
"Hermione, when is Emma going to open my gift?" Alice asked eagerly, completely ignoring her friend's exultance and smiling widely. "My mom and I found the cutest dress ever for her, I bet she will love it!"
"Isn't she with you girls?" I asked as a few more of Emma's classmates came over running, looking for the two missing players in their game. "I was looking for her."
"I saw her run in the house a little while ago," Meredith, the dark-haired little girl who was the last member of Emma's closest group of friends said, pointing at the house. "She really was in a hurry; I called her to ask her if she wanted to play, but she didn't hear me."
"Bet she went to get a toy or something," Lavender muttered, shaking her head; I agreed with her, she probably wanted to show her new rabbit to her friends.
"We'll wait for her by the cake – I so want to eat it!" Alexis said, bouncing up and down as she dragged her friends along; was I that lively when I was their age, too?
"She's right, the cake seems delicious," Lavender said as we headed towards the house. "Come on, let's hurry up – or those little monsters will eat all of it!"
"Emma, time to unwrap the presents! Your friends are waiting for you!" I called as I started to climb the stairs, and I almost collided with Tommy, who was dashing downstairs, his glasses askew and a stain of grass on the left knee of his jeans.
"Tommy, where did you and Emma go? We have looked for you all over the place!" Lavender scolded him, frowning slightly; Tommy, though, looked at her in surprise.
"Emma isn't with me," he said, his eyes wide behind his round glasses. "I was looking for her, actually – she said she was going to look for you, Hermione, and I haven't seen her ever since. It's been probably half an hour ago, more or less. I checked her room, but she's not there…"
"Come on, let's split up and find her," I said, feeling uneasy: where did she go?
"I'll go back outside and ask everyone," Lavender said, running downstairs.
"I'll check the shed and ask the other kids – she might be hiding somewhere for some reason," Tommy offered, dashing behind his sister and leaving me alone on the landing.
"Em, where the heck did you go?" I muttered as I entered my room, absentmindedly looking around. I noticed that her bunny, the one I had given her that morning, wasn't on the camping mattress she had slept in during those last few days anymore – she had probably taken it to show it to her friends, just as I thought. Next I checked the bathroom, and Aunt Elspeth's room, and then Emma's. She had left the closet open, how untidy she was…
I made the move to close it, but something inside caught my eye – it was messy, like someone had rummaged through it in a hurry to look for something. How come? I had personally placed my sister's clean laundry in there the day Lavender and I fought, and Emma usually didn't mess her clothes up, for she hated to have crinkles in them. I frowned, running my fingers over one of the warm hoodies piled on one of the shelves. The light blue one, the Gryffindor red one Aunt Elspeth gave her, the green one she had always hated…
Where was the pink one she always wore? I checked twice; it wasn't there. Yet I was sure it was in the pile of clean clothes I had given her, and she hadn't worn it that week…
Her jeans were missing, too – her favourite ones, light blue with flowered patches Mom sewed herself on the knees; her tennis shoes were nowhere to be found, either.
What the…
Had she taken them? Why? She was wearing a dress and ballet flats that day, what use could have they been to her?
Something pink balled up by the bed caught my eye, and I slowly picked it up, my heart beating fast all of a sudden.
It was the flowered dress she was wearing at the party, thrown there in a haste right on the matching shoes. She must have changed into other clothes, but why? She loved that dress, I knew that she felt comfortable in it…
Fear flooded in my heart like a wave of icy water, and I sprang to my feet, desperately searching for something else, something she could have taken…
Her stuffed Eeyore, the one she loved so much, seemed to have disappeared, too, and the duffel bag she used for the ballet class back in Seattle. The picture she kept on her bedside table, the one of both of us and our parents that was taken only two weeks before the accident, was nowhere to be found, either.
I had thought it right.
She was gone.
I ran downstairs, feeling like I was about to throw up; I was hyperventilating, and my hands were shaking so much I had to ball them up into fists to keep them still.
"Aunt!" I screamed, dashing towards where Aunt Elspeth was sitting and chatting with Professor McGonagall, totally unaware of what had happened.
She turned immediately as she heard me, her eyes wide and her face worried – the hysterical tone of my voice must have alarmed her already.
"Aunt, she's gone!" I sobbed as tears poured down my face. "Emma's gone! I can't find her, and her bag isn't in her room anymore!"
That gasp I heard when I was talking with Lavender – it must have been Emma, who had come looking for me. How could have I been so stupid? She had overheard what we were saying, and she had probably decided that running away would have been better than having to leave in summer! It was my fault, only my fault…
"Gone?" Aunt Elspeth murmured, looking shocked. "How – why?"
"What? The child is gone?" Madam Rosmerta, who was close by, asked, placing a hand on Aunt's shoulder.
"Little Emma has disappeared?"
"We must go looking for her immediately!"
"We should start right now," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, exchanging a worried look with Professor McGonagall. "Dusk's about to fall, and a rainstorm was foreseen tonight. I will lead a crew myself – come on, my friends, we have to find that little girl."
I stood there, feeling useless and frightened, as the adults quickly divided into groups and set off on foot in a dozen different directions.
"We'll go towards the town!"
"I'll check the hills to the East!"
"We'll go West!"
"Rookwood's farm isn't very far; I'll go and ask them, too!"
"The fields to the North, we must check there as well!"
"Come on, come on, hurry!"
I wasn't even considered; I just stood there, watching in a daze the mayhem around me. They knew exactly what to do, while I didn't – a thing that made me even angrier with myself: I should have been the one leading the operations, I should have been the one who knew where she might have gone. Instead, I was useless. I could just look, my whole body frozen in shock.
"What happened?"
I turned to see Ron, Harry and the others come back from their football match, all of them totally unaware of what had just happened.
"Emma's missing," Mrs Weasley explained, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. "She ran away all of a sudden – we are going to look for her. You kids stay here: if she comes back, there will be someone to wait for her."
And then she took off too, joining Mr Weasley and Xenophilius Lovegood in the last group.
I squeezed my eyes shut; that couldn't be real. It must have been just a horrible nightmare; I had probably fallen asleep on the lawn as I watched the football match with Luna…
I buried my face in my hands as sobs ripped out of my chest; I was shaking all over, and I couldn't stop. Finally I could move, but as the haze of shock faded away, the pain and fear intensified of a million times.
Why, why, why? What had I done, to make God hate me so much? I had already lost my parents; I couldn't lose Emma, too. Without her, the best part of me didn't exist – it couldn't exist. Why did she have to run away like that? My baby, my baby…
Strong arms wrapped around me, and I desperately clung to Ron, fearing that I would have shattered without him holding me together; I had never felt so frail, so close to lose control.
"We are going to find her," he said forcefully, lifting my face to look at me in the eye. "We won't just sit here and wait while the grown-ups do all the work. No one knows these hills and the town like us; we will find her."
"I don't know what to do," I murmured, trying to stop shaking so much. "I – I can't think straight."
"So I'll do it for both of us," he replied, his eyes smouldering. "Dean, Seamus, you go downtown and alert the police – the more we are, the more possibilities we have. Everyone else, split up into groups and check every field, every hill, every bloody rabbit hole you can find around here. Knock to every door and ask everyone you see. Ask the neighbours to look in their sheds and barns, those are the best hiding places. We'll turn the town and the countryside upside down if necessary."
"What about us?" Lavender asked, looking almost as scared as me; Tommy was by her side, along with all of Emma's little friends, whose parents had left in our care as they joined the searching.
"You stay here and take care of the children. Should Emma come back, call me immediately – I have my mobile with me. Got it?" I told her, finding my voice back and straightening my shoulders. I couldn't let go – Emma needed me. It was just my fault if she ran away; it was my duty to do all I could to get her back.
It took only a minute for the groups to form, and then everyone ran off, both on foot or on their bikes. I took my usual place behind Ron, holding onto him tightly as he sped towards the town in the quickly dimming light; a chilly wind had started to blow on the hills, and dark clouds were gathering in the sky, threatening a rainstorm.
Not now, not now, not now, I pleaded the sky as we took a sharp turn for the main street. Not the rain, not now, please. Just let me find her first. Let me find her…
We checked every street and every alley, calling for Emma on top of our lungs, and we asked in every open shop we found and to every passer-by we met; many of them joined us as we explained the situation, but it was of no use. Several times we crossed paths with someone from the grown-ups searching groups, but no one could give us news – it was as though Emma had disappeared, like smoke in the wind.
We called for hours, back and forth, until our throats were raw and sore, until we all were freezing in the cold wind, too tired to keep going on anymore. At nine o'clock, over a hundred people were gathered in The Three Broomsticks, trying to warm up a bit as they tried to come up with a plan, suggesting new places where to look. Madam Rosmerta made tea for everyone; everyone accepted it, but only a few actually drank from the cups.
I just sat in the corner, feeling numb and cold despite the flames crackling in the fireplace next to me and the warm cup of tea in my hands; I could feel the glances everyone kept throwing at me, some pitiful, some worried, some sad, and others only plainly curious. I wasn't surprised: despite everything that had happened, we were still foreigners here, newcomers whose arrival was still object of conversation among many. To their eyes, what could have I been? The poor orphan American girl, who had lost her parents in a terrible accident and whose sister had now ran away…
We kids had gathered there too, but the results of our search had been the same as the adults': my sister was nowhere to be found.
"Where could she be? She's a little girl, she couldn't have gone so far!" Harry exclaimed at some point, running a hand through his hair and groaning in frustration. "There must be somewhere else, somewhere we hadn't looked yet…"
I couldn't stand the looks of commiserations coming from the adults; I needed to get away from there. Pity didn't help finding Emma – it was for the dead, or for who had lost hope, and I certainly didn't belong to either of those categories.
I got up without looking at anyone, moving just for the sake of doing something; if no one was coming, I would have gone alone.
"Where are you going?" Ginny, who had been sitting next to me, asked, gripping my sleeve to stop me. I shrugged; I didn't know.
"Anywhere is better than just sitting here. I have to find her, Ginny: it's cold, and it's going to rain soon…"
In the very moment I pronounced those words, a thunder echoed outside, and I took it as a sign: I slipped from Ginny's grasp and pushed the heavy door open, walking out. It was pitch-dark, the light coming from the streetlamps barely enough to allow me to see where I was going; the wind, from cold that it was, had become freezing, every sign of the warm, sunny spring weather of the afternoon gone.
I shivered, tucking my hands in the pockets of my jacket, and I started to walk down the street, looking for anything that could tell me that Emma had been there, that she was close…
Another thunder roared in the air, closer than the previous, and for a moment the sky was lit like it was daytime. I could see everything clearly: the houses and shops on both sides of the street, the heavy black clouds above my head, the dark house on the hill…
The house on the hill.
It was the one I had noticed on my first trip around the town with Ron and Harry – old Riddle's house. I vaguely remembered what they had told me – that no one usually went up there, because the old man was a weirdo, saying that he was a wizard and all.
"If no one ever goes there…It would be the perfect place to hide if you don't want anyone to find you…" I murmured to myself as everything around me became dark again. I would have gone there if I needed to get away from anyone else. And I knew that Emma would have thought the same thing.
"Where are you going?"
I heard voices calling me from behind, along with the sound of many footsteps, and as I turned I saw seven dark silhouettes running towards me, their jackets and scarves flapping behind them in the wind.
"A rainstorm is coming, it's not safe to go around on your own!" Ginny scolded me, grabbing my arm as though to keep me grounded.
"Therefore, we are coming with you," one of the Twins said; I wasn't sure if it was Fred or George, it was too dark.
"On top of the hill, the old weirdo's house," I told them, shouting to be heard above the whistling wind and pointing in that direction. "I know how she thinks – she would go hide in a place where no one would look for her! That house scares children, and grown-ups never go up there – I bet no one has even thought about it!"
"The kid's brave, she surely has the gut to go there," Ron said, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands to keep himself warm. "Come on, if we are quick we might get to the top of the hill before it starts raining!"
So, we headed towards the place, walking fast and keeping our heads low to fight against the wind; I didn't think I had ever seen such a violent rainstorm before – and I had lived in Washington State for my whole life!
Climbing up the hillside, though, was harder than we thought: it was incredibly steep, and with the wind pushing us back, we made three steps forward and two steps backwards. But we were Gryffindors – working together was what we did best. So Neville helped Luna up, the Twins kept Ginny between them so that they prevented her from falling, and Ron and Harry took both my hands and helped me get back on my feet when the muscles of my legs, tired and sore after hours spent walking, betrayed me and made me fall down.
When we finally got on top of the hill, I felt like I had just run a marathon – but I had made it, so I didn't care.
Seen from this perspective, old Riddle's house was even darker and scarier than it seemed from the town: it reminded me of those haunted house things in amusement parks – and, to be honest, it gave me the chills. The walls of dark stone looked black; the windows were broken and dark like empty eye sockets, and the air around there had the stale, rotting stench of abandon.
"There!" I said, pointing at a missing board in the tall fence that surrounded the house. The narrow passage was just large enough for a dog – or for a small child.
"How the heck are we going to get to the other side?" Ginny asked, placing her hand flat against the old weathered wood.
I set my jaw and marched forward, to where the small passage was; then I took hold of the board next to the missing one and pulled with all my might. Just as I had thought, it was frail – the piece of wood came away easily in my hands, like it was attached to the rest of the fence with sellotape.
I crawled in the enlarged passage without difficulty – I wasn't much bigger than a child myself, after all – and I found myself in an abandoned garden; the grass was so tall it came up to my waist, and there were bramble bushes crawling up the fence and the front of the house. It looked like it had been uninhabited for years.
"Emma!" I called as I stood – I could hear the others work to make the passage big enough for them to pass, too. "Emma!"
Another thunder exploded in the sky, and I heard a whimper somewhere to my right – I couldn't exactly tell where it was coming from, though.
"Emma?" I called again, hope rising in my chest with such force it was actually painful. I carefully walked around the side of the house, throwing furtive looks at the stained glass of the few still intact windows to be sure old Riddle wasn't watching me from the inside – I had the feeling that the man would have been just as creepy as the house, if not more.
There was someone talking, a faint, small voice that sounded terribly scared.
"It's just a storm, you don't have to be afraid. Thunders can't hurt you. Just close your eyes and stay close to me…"
Another thunder shook the sky, and another whimper echoed in the air – a sound that was so scared and miserable it made me want to cry. Emma had always been scared of thunderstorms; they were the only things she actually feared…
A lightning bolt lit everything up again, and then I saw her.
She was curled up in the grass with her back to the fence, holding her Eeyore and the bunny I gave her that morning in her arms as she murmured comforting words to them – her way to muster up courage in those situations. She was wearing the clothes I had noticed were missing; they were stained with dirt in some places, making me think that she fell more than once, probably as she climbed up the hill. She looked incredibly small and frail, and I cursed myself a thousand times for letting her run away like that.
"Emma!"
She looked up at me with wide eyes, and I saw that there were traces of fresh tears on her face.
"Emma, thanking God you are ok!"
Tears stung in my eyes as I reached for her; she was ok, I had found her, and now she would have been safe…
But as I tried to hug her, she crawled away – away from me.
"No!" she cried, shaking her head. "No! If I go back, that means that I have to leave again! I don't want to! I don't want to!"
"Emma, I – "
"No, no, no! Please, Mione! This is our home! We can't leave! What about Aunt Elspeth? What about my friends? Don't you want to stay, too? You told me that you didn't miss America! You told me that you liked living here!"
"I do!" I almost cried as I fell on my knees beside her. "I do, Emma! I did when I told you, and I do now! But – we have to go back! You have already been enrolled in elementary school there, and I have to start University in September…"
She let me gather her in my arms and hold her close; I didn't know what hurt the most, seeing her try to get away from me or knowing that she was telling the truth.
She was crying hard, and I couldn't do anything but hold her close and rock her back and forth.
"Don't wanna…" she repeated again and again as she sobbed softly; I wanted to tell her that it was ok, that we would have stayed, but I couldn't.
"I'm sorry, honey," I murmured, stroking her frizzy hair. "I'm so sorry…"
Rain started to pour on us, small droplets at first, that soon became thicker and heavier; I didn't know how long it had been when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"You two are going to get soaked if you stay here," Luna murmured gently, giving me a kind yet sad smile. I didn't know how much they had heard of my conversation with Emma – probably everything, judging from the sad looks on their faces. I didn't want to know.
I lifted Emma up in my arms while Luna picked up the small bag Emma had brought with her, and we all began to make our way down, now made more difficult than before since the ground was wet and slippery with mud. Nobody talked much, and I could feel the weight of that silence on my shoulders. We had found Emma, and she was ok; this was supposed to be a happy comeback: the boys should have laughed, and we girls should have cried a bit, and we should have welcomed the rainstorm with a smile – instead, it felt like we were taking part in a funeral march to the cemetery.
I had to put Emma down, for I wouldn't have been able to carry her as we descended down the hill, but I firmly held her hand in mine; my heart squeezed when I saw that she was still weeping. I hated myself for making her that sad.
When we eventually got back to The Three Broomsticks, we were all wet and muddy, but luckily it still hadn't begun to rain heavily. Ron pushed the door open and we all slipped in one after the other; it was warm and dry inside, and it felt heavenly after the freezing rain outside.
For a moment everyone stared at us in astonishment; then someone seemed to register that Emma was with us, and the cheering begun: people got up all at once, patting our shoulders, laughing, clapping; Aunt Elspeth seemed overwhelmed with happiness.
Yet that bubble of relief and joy didn't touch any of us; we faked smiles and told what had happened, but I felt detached from it all, like I wasn't living my life, but only acting in a play.
"Oh, you are all wet – come on, let's get home now; you both need dry clothes and a cup of tea," Aunt Elspeth said quickly as she double checked on Emma and me, hugging us both like an apprehensive mother hen before she ushered us out.
Her car was parked right in front of the pub, and she opened the door for Emma to climb in – she was probably afraid that she would have ran away again, and I couldn't blame her. I made the move to climb in after her, but a gentle hand took hold of my wrist, stopping me for a moment.
"Hey," Ron murmured as I turned; I had never seen him look so sad before. "Come here."
His open arms were too much of a temptation to resist.
I hugged him tightly for a moment as rain drenched us both, and he pressed his face to my hair, holding me close; then he let me go with a small smile.
"I'll drop by tomorrow, ok?"
I simply nodded – I was sure that if I spoke in that moment, my voice would have broken. Then I climbed in and closed the door, curling up on the backseat and pulling Emma close once again.
Ron's POV:
I watched, unmoving, as the small black car slowly disappeared down the road; I couldn't tear my eyes from it. There was a hollow in my chest, and it hurt like I had just been stabbed.
They had to leave again. Of course they would – everyone knew in this bloody town that they would have stayed only for a year, and then went back to America. I had known since the beginning. But it hadn't kept me from getting involved, and now I felt like something was being ripped away from my chest. I had been stupid enough to think that things might have changed, that she might have stayed longer – but I had just deluded myself. This wasn't her home, after all.
My family was gathered by the door, waiting for me to come back in; I couldn't though.
"I'm going home," I said, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head in a vain attempt to stay dry; my hair was already drenched.
"It's pouring down in buckets," my mother complained softly; she didn't try to stop me, though – a thing I was grateful for. Right now, I needed to be alone.
"It's not a long way home; I'll change in dry clothes once I'm there," I reassured here as I took my bike, which was laid against the wall. "See you later."
I started to pedal with force, going as fast as I could as I took a shortcut across a field; I was completely soaked, but I didn't care. There was something burning inside me that would have eaten me from the inside if I stopped moving.
By the time I got home, I was shivering uncontrollably; I left the bike in the shed and ran inside, my shoes making sloshing sounds as I stepped in the hall. I hung my dripping jacket to the hook and ran upstairs to my attic room, grabbing a towel from the bathroom on my way; I was freezing. I threw the soaked clothes in the corner and grabbed a pair of dry sweats and a t-shirt from the closet; much better.
I dropped down on the bed with the towel in my hands and I started to dry my hair forcefully; there was pressure in my chest and in my throat, and I pushed it all back.
"Why?" I yelled at the empty house, angrily throwing the towel against the wall. "WHY? Why ain't I enough to keep her here?"
I slumped down again, burying my face in my hands.
I knew it wasn't her fault, of course. I had heard what she had said to Emma, seen the tears in her eyes as she spoke: she didn't want to leave. But she had, because it was what she was supposed to do; the child would have started school, and she would have gone to college…
And I would have stayed right here, and watched as she turned eighteen and then left forever.
Maybe I wasn't enough to keep her here – but I would have made sure those last three months in England were the happiest of her life.
Hermione's POV:
"Here, honey – drink this," I murmured as I sat down on the mattress; Emma was sleeping in my bed again that night – it was the last night Lavender and Tommy stayed with us. They would have taken the coach for London the next morning, and gotten on a plane back to Seattle in the afternoon.
Emma sat up gingerly and took the cup of chamomile tea from me; she hadn't talked much since we got back, and I couldn't blame myself. I didn't feel like talking, either.
After a hot bath and a small dinner, I had helped her in her pyjamas and tended the cuts and scratches she had on her hands and knees before putting her to bed; now, all wrapped up in fluffy blankets and with her peluches tucked safely at her side, she looked almost like nothing had happened. Almost.
"You have to sleep now, ok?" I said, stroking her hair. "Tomorrow you'll have to open your gifts – there are so many you probably won't be able to unwrap them all if you aren't well-rested."
She simply nodded, looking down at the cup and drinking all of its contents before she curled up on her side and hugged her stuffed animals tightly. The storm was still going on outside, but the thunders had been replaced by a pouting rain so thick I couldn't see anything from the windows.
I turned the light off and curled up by her side, keeping her close to me; it didn't take her long to fall asleep, and I sighed, rolling on my back and staring at the ceiling, sleep far away from me.
I didn't want to leave that place, ever. I wanted to attend my last year at Hogwarts and graduate with all of my Gryffindor mates; I wanted to go to college and then come back to teach – at Hogwarts, maybe, that would have been wonderful. I wanted to watch Emma getting sorted into Gryffindor as she grew up; I wanted her to have friends as amazing as mine.
I wanted to have my family, to bring my children up in that beautiful place where they could be free and happy.
But I couldn't. I couldn't, because I had to do what I was expected to. People expected me to go back to America, to go to college and become a professor in some important university. People expected me to be reasonable, to behave following rationality, not emotions. People expected me to do the best thing.
But how could have it been the best thing if it hurt that much?
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