'You showed me things I never thought that I would see.' - Clean Bandit feat. Jess Glynne, Real Love
"HURRY THE FUCK UP." My yell resounds through the still evening air.
"Al, shut up. This is a decent neighbourhood; you can't yell things like that in the middle of the street." Lysander whispers from behind me, mortified.
"With Scor and Ria living here, they're probably used to it." Rose inputs helpfully from next to him.
"Fine." I scowl at Lysander. "Send up a Patronus then."
"Rose." He nods to her.
She flicks her wand, screwing up her nose in concentration, and a wispy silver butterfly appears out of the end of her wand. She whispers to it and it flies daintily up to one of the windows in the house in front of us, disappearing inside.
Seconds later, the curtain is shoved to the side and someone shoots their middle finger at us.
Lysander just sighs, but we only have to wait a few more minutes before the door to the house bursts open and Scor and Ria strut out. I roll my eyes, but smile up at my girlfriend as she leans down to kiss me.
"Feet off the seat!" I shout back, as Scor swings himself into the car.
"I bought this for you, you ungrateful bitch, so I can do what I like." He yells back.
Lysander just sighs again as I lay my wand in the ignition groove and we drive off.
My car has been magically expanded to include two additional seats in the back, in which Scor and Ria are now lounging, and it's to them that I address my next question, as I steer us into the motorway. "So how was Egypt, mate?"
"Well, you would know if you'd bothered to show up to the portkey terminal when Rose and I arrived back a few hours ago." Scor replies.
"Hinky pink, I've already had this conversation with him." Rose says to her boyfriend, "He says James was moving into his new flat today and needed help unpacking."
"How did you get out of helping?" Scor asks, presumably to Ria.
"I love James, but he's a fucking slave driver; I get enough of him shouting at me on the Quidditch pitch; there was no way I was dealing with him ordering me around today as well, so when he asked, I just told him to fuck off. In nice language."
"You could've just told him the truth: you were working at Dominic Maestro's today." Lysander yells back, over the sound of the wind rushing past.
"Well, the truth is overrated." Ria replies.
I love driving my car, with the feel of the wind in my hair and the ground rushing away beneath me, so for the rest of the journey, I focus on the rush I get while driving, and manage to tune out the conversation behind me until we pull up in front of Emma's house about 45 minutes later.
She's waiting for me on the front step of her house, and when she sees the car, she hugs her parents goodbye and walks up to the car, in a cute little dress and flats.
"Al?" She waves at the others, then leans in and frowns at me. "I thought I was just going to be photographing you and Rose modelling some clothes I made today?"
"Babe, it's your birthday. You should've known the rest of them would want to tag along as well to celebrate."
Emma blushes crimson as she gets into the front seat next to me and Lysander and Rose lean forward to hug her.
"Malfoy, get off the seat." I scream, as Scor stands up to step over Rose's head and hug Emma too.
Ria pulls him back down quickly.
Three hours later and we're lying on a huge, incredibly soft picnic blanket, toasting marshmallows above a jar of blue fire, on the top of an empty multi-storey car park.
The fairy lights draped across the railings twinkle against the night sky and city view, and the magical tent Lysander and I Apparated over earlier in the afternoon to set up is lit up, and glows invitingly behind us.
Emma's eighteenth birthday presents have been carefully stacked in the tent, and the birthday cake Lysander made for her has been completely eaten, along with at least half of the huge amount of food that Nana Molly made for us.
The photos of me and Rose modelling Emma's clothes have been neatly stacked next to us, and I grin when I catch sight of the top one, which took us ages to pose for, but was my favourite by far.
Scor had balanced with Lysander on a broomstick a few yards out from the top of the carpark, with Ria hovering on her own broomstick nearby because no one trusts Lysander on a broomstick, especially when his concentration's taken with trying to operate a camera.
In a shirt she had made, Emma had made me stand on the edge of the carpark, gazing down moodily at where Rose, in an original skirt, was hanging off the edge of the building, with the help of one of my nifty Balance charms.
The whole effect was that it looked like I'd just pushed her off the building in a murder attempt. It was an effect I wholeheartedly agreed with.
I am pulled back to the present as Ria lays her head on my shoulder. I am just breathing in the scent of raspberries and sandalwood like a creep, when Scor swallows his marshmallow and speaks up thoughtfully.
"Do you think your pets talk shit about you when you're not home?"
Lysander just rolls his eyes, but Emma nearly chokes on her marshmallows at the unexpected question.
"Ares would never talk shit about me." Ria says confidently, sitting up. "He's an absolute angel."
"Such irony." Lysander says, under his breath.
I have to say I agree with Ria. The fluorescent little kitten I got her for her birthday may be coloured like an explosion and named after a war god, but he's the quietest and laziest kitten I have ever seen (though honestly, my experience with kittens is limited to the ones Uncle George has roaming around his shop, and they aren't the most normal of cats), quite unlike his owner. She adores him, and called him Ares, in a play on her own hated name, and as a companion to Scor's similarly-named owl Aphrodite.
"Macho's too manly for shit-talking," I add in, referring to my own loyal minion, "Though I wouldn't say the same for Affy."
"Yeah, you're right." Scor says morosely, staring into the blue flames. "Talking shit about me is probably her favourite hobby."
"To be fair, you do the same about her." Lysander says honestly.
Scor shrugs, "Serves her right; she's a bitch."
Emma giggles. "Scor, she's just an owl."
"The meanest, cruellest owl ever! I don't know what I've done to deserve a witch like her!" He cries, and frowns when Emma laughs, "Em, you don't understand: you've never had a pet."
"Actually I had a fish once, when I was about six years old." Emma says, smiling at him. "He was a really good pet, and I doubt he gossiped about me behind my back, mostly because he there were no other fish in the tank he could gossip to."
"I remember him!" Rose exclaims proudly.
"Well, you should remember." I catch her gaze across the fire. "You killed him."
"It was an accident!"
"Actually, I'm damn sure you took him out with your bare hands and kissed him pretty deliberately."
Scor scoffs. "You kissed him?"
Lysander grins. "Don't get too jealous, man, he died immediately afterwards."
"But why did she kiss a fish?" Scor snorts.
Emma toasts another marshmallow. "Because she's Rose."
"In the interest of this round of truths," Ria smirks and looks at Lysander. "How's it going with Sam, Sander? Any heavy petting?"
"We broke up." He says evenly, gazing at her.
"WHAT?"
"NO!"
"But you were so sweet together!"
"Mooshes, this is not good!"
"When did this happen?"
Lysander turns away from Scor, Ria, Rose and Emma, who are still exclaiming, and chooses to answer my question. "Only a few days ago. We were more friends anyway than actually dating; it just wasn't really working as a romantic relationship."
"So you didn't love him?" Emma asks softly.
Lysander shakes his head. "Honestly, I wasn't even upset when it ended. We're still mates anyway."
I snort.
"We need to find you some more love, Mushoo." Rose announces.
Ria suddenly sits bolt upright and rummages through her pockets, smirking when she pulls out a little red pot. "And I know just how to do it."
"What's that?" Lysander asks suspiciously.
"On my lunch break from Dominic Maestro's today, I went over to see Freddie at WWW, and he gave me a pot of this for free. It's called OTP Powder." She's grinning like a maniac, and I'm slightly scared.
Ria tosses the pot to Rose, who miraculously catches it, and reads the label on it carefully, before unscrewing the lid and unceremoniously dumping the contents on Lysander.
He coughs and splutters, surrounded by a cloud of what looks like black dust, before it settles and coats him in soft green-and-silver powder, a trail of the same powder leading away from him and over the edge of the building.
"Rose, I'm going to - "
"It's a powder that apparently changes colour to match the Hogwarts house of your soul mate and makes a powder trail that leads to them." Rose cuts off Lysander's threat by holding up the now-empty red pot.
I just about catch Scor and Ria's glance at each other before they're leaping to their feet and racing for their brooms.
With a flick of his wrist, Lysander has vanished all of the powder before they can even get on their brooms, let alone follow the trail to his supposed Slytherin soul mate.
"What Slytherin boys do we know who're gay?" Emma muses, clearly not done with the subject, as Scor and Ria scowl and slump back onto the blanket.
Lysander groans and drops his head into his arms. "Not you too, Emma."
"The probability is that it'll be someone in our year." Rose adds, "Which means it'll be Lucien, Lorcan, Miles, Will or Amir."
"Amir's straight as an arrow." Ria says. I frown at her. "And Will's definitely not into guys." She winks at Scor.
"And Miles…" Scor takes over before Rose can say anything. We all look at each other and wince. "Miles isn't really Lysander's type of guy."
"Lucien's out of the question." I add in, grinning when Lysander scowls at me. "Scor and Ria'd kill you if you ever so much as smiled at him. Which leaves…"
"Lorcan." Rose finishes off, beaming at Lysander.
Scor shrugs, "Unconventional choice, but - "
"Why am I friends with you lot?" Lysander moans, burying his face in his arms.
I slap his back sympathetically. "I know man, I know."
As soon as I park my car in the driveway the morning after Emma's birthday and open the door to my house, I know that something's wrong.
It's silent.
The Potter residence is never silent. While James is physically incapable of not making a noise; Lily's quieter, but likes listening to music out loud; and although mum and dad may not do either of those things, there's often at least chatter going on, whether it be Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione visiting, or the commentary of the Quidditch channel on the wireless.
"Albus?" The call comes from another room.
Shit. Dad does not sound happy, but this time, I have no idea what I've done wrong.
"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER, GET IN HERE NOW."
I wince and follow my mum's shout to the kitchen.
I find them sitting at the kitchen table, facing the doorway, looking much too serious. In fact, my mum looks like she's either about to cry or explode.
"What have I done now?" I sigh.
"Don't you take that tone with me, Alb - "
"Gin." Dad puts a hand on mum's arm.
"No, Harry, this is serious. We can't make allowances for him any longer. This has got to stop."
"Gin, maybe he's got an explanation for it."
"An explanation?! There's no explanation needed! Rose could be dead right now, because of our son."
"What?!" In one stride, I'm at the table and grabbing the newspaper lying in front of them, which is clearly the subject of this talk.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I groan and drop into the empty chair across from my parents.
'POTTER HAS A PENCHANT FOR MURDER."
The macabre headline is emblazoned across the front page, above a photo showing the poses Rose and I assumed to model Emma's clothes, but from a slightly different angle than that from which Lysander photographed. Sure enough, I'm standing on the top of a tall building, staring down at my cousin, who is hanging from the edge, gazing up at me desperately.
I ruffle my hair and look up at my parents. "Right, I see how this could be taken out of context slightly."
"TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT SLIGHTLY? ALBUS, YOU PUSHED YOUR COUSIN OFF A BUILDING! I KNOW YOU SAY YOU DON'T LIKE HER, BUT THIS IS TAKING IT TO THE EXTREME! HARRY'S EVEN BEEN ORDERED TO TAKE YOU INTO THE MINISTRY FOR QUESTIONING! Thank Merlin the reporter mentions that you didn't actually succeed in your attempted murder because your friends were around to save her."
And despite it all, I fucking burst out laughing.
Mum looks ready to actually murder me on the spot, but it's dad who speaks up. And that makes it a hell of a lot worse.
"Al, what's happened to you? I still remember you as that little boy who would stare at the sun because he was determined to be prescribed glasses so that he could look just like me. And now, you . . . I thought that when you brought Ria home to officially meet us as your girlfriend last week that you were finally coming back to us, but now I feel like I hardly know you anymore."
My laughter is gone as soon as it came. "Well, things change, dad. And maybe you should check your facts before just jumping to conclusions; I would've thought you knew better than to believe everything that's written in the Daily Prophet."
I'm fucking angry now but I'm immensely proud that I haven't resorted to shouting. Yet.
I get up, ignoring mum's angry yell for me to sit back down, but I do stop and turn back around when the fire spits and Uncle Ron's frantic voice fills the kitchen.
"Harry? Harry, you there, mate?"
Dad strides over and kneels in front of the kitchen fireplace. "Ron?"
"Merlin's pants, Harry, I'm glad I got you before you took Al into the Ministry. Turns out we should've listened to Hermione, like always. When will we learn, right?"
"Is she there now?"
"Uh…yeah. How did you know?"
"Harry!" Aunt Hermione's voice echoes through the room.
"Hermione, what's happening? What did Rose say?"
"Godric Harry, we're so stupid for believing the idiotic drivel that's written in the Prophet, especially after the rubbish they've published about you over the years. But I did say that - "
"Hermione. What did Rose say?"
"Right. Sorry, Harry. She said that they were modelling. Modelling, can you believe it? Apparently little Emma Longbottom designed and made some clothes and wanted Rosie and Al to model them for her so she made them pose in those positions, as if Al was trying to hurt Rosie, when in fact Rose says she was hanging on a Balance charm and was actually perfectly safe. Oh Harry, I'm so glad. But I have to say, I never truly believed that Al could - "
"Hermione."
"Right. I'll talk to you later, Harry."
Dad sighs and stands up, turning around to face me again.
"Al."
"Just fuck off, alright? I don't want your dumb apologies."
"Maybe not, but you're going to hear them." Sometimes, he'll just say a sentence but with the kind of tone and authority and look in his eyes that reminds you that it was this guy who killed the most dangerous wizard who ever lived.
I sit down.
"Al, we're sorry we didn't believe you." Dad sits opposite me.
I shrug, refusing to look at him. "Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
"And what do you mean by that?" Mum demands, staring at me.
"Remember the last press conference you invited me to? The one to the Egyptian Ministry? When Lily threw up on the audience from all the food she ate before the conference, and you said it was my fault she got sick?" I say bitterly.
Mum fidgets. "I realise that - "
"Save it." I say angrily. "I'm so sick of this. All through my life I've been constantly compared with you, dad. And I just can't meet those standards, okay? I'm not heroic or kind or brave: I'm an angry, selfish bastard, but that's just who I am and you need to deal with that. So stop trying to make me be like you; stop trying to make me into an Auror and shit."
There's a stunned silence, and my dad looks stricken.
It's my mum who speaks up first. "Al, you should've told us you felt that way. We never wanted you to feel like you had to live up to what the media says about Harry. We love you the way you are, honey."
I think I actually growl at that. "Mum, just screw all the lying. I'm not Lily, who adores you, or James, who'll only see the good, yeah? I know you're ashamed of me, so you can stop pulling this stupid charade to pretend you care about me."
Mum grabs my hand immediately, and dad puts his hand on hers. "Al, of course we care about you. In fact," he rubs his eyes tiredly, "we just tried to do what we thought was best for you, though I see now how you may have taken it the wrong way. You always seemed uncomfortable at the press conferences, so we stopped forcing you to come; you always got so angry when we asked you anything about your friends or school, so we stopped pestering you."
"Well maybe you should have asked me instead of just assuming you knew what was best for me." I say resentfully, then pause regretfully when I see how upset my parents look. I may not like my parents, but despite it all, I still love them. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I've not been the best son, or the most easy to deal with, and I'm sorry."
"We're sorry too, son." Dad says, giving me a small smile. "For making you feel like you weren't good enough as yourself."
"Maybe we can all try a bit harder to get along." Mum gazes at me.
"Sounds good." Dad says, looking hopeful.
I roll my eyes. "Deal."
Right on time, a beautiful snowy white owl swoops through the open kitchen window and perches in front of me. I snatch the note from Affy, quick enough that she can't bite me and has to turn and take a chunk out of my dad's hand instead.
He yelps and strides out of the room in search of a healing potion, with mum on his heels, leaving me to read the note in peace.
Read the bullshit in the papers. You okay? Need some witnesses to help keep your beautiful arse out of Azkaban?
I grin at Ria's words and scribble a note back as the tinny sound of 'A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love' echoes through the house, signifying that someone has Apparated onto the end of the driveway.
I'm fine: Azkaban just can't handle this arse. Ended up having a talk with the 'rents; I'll tell all on the train back to school tomorrow.
Affy flies off after I make it clear that she's not getting any food from me, and I make my way out of the kitchen and open the front door just as Lysander reaches up to knock on it.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's good to see you too, Al."
"Whatever. What's up?"
"I thought things might be a bit stressed here after that article in the Daily Prophet. Your parents don't believe it, do they?"
"Not after Rose accidentally saved me from an attempted murder trial by completely discrediting it."
Lysander smiles, "I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that. Are you going to invite me in?"
I frown at him. "Shouldn't you be nargle hunting with your parents?"
He shrugs. "Lorcan's gone out to London to buy school supplies, and I can't deal with pretending to see little winged creatures without him."
I grin and open the door wide. "Then come on in and help me trash James' room so that he can't move back in when he gets tired of his flat."
"You do know that you have about five spare bedrooms in your house that he could use instead?"
"Shut up and get inside."
A/N: Hi! I just wanted to say that I'm super sorry for the late update, and also that the credit for the brilliant idea of OTP Powder goes to the absolutely fantastic Emarye - thanks for that :)