Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
My End of the Deal
Seven O'clock in the morning on October the 12th, a Saturday; I found myself staring at the contents of my wardrobe all laid out on my bed. Having just showered, I stood before my bed in just my bathrobe with wet hair sticking to the sides of my face. Within this setting, I was struck with deep contemplation. Why is it that the majority of my clothes are boys' clothes? It's a stupid question. One that I know the answer to. I'm a girl with six brothers from a family that's on a budget. What can be handed down to me is, and I've never cared until today. Usually, I don't even take the time to plan out outfits. Since Hogwarts requires a uniform, the majority of the time I don't have to think about it. The rest of the time I just put on whatever is clean and whatever I grab first. Outside of when I am in uniform, I think it's been years since I've last worn matching socks.
Though, for today, matching socks might be a good idea. I thought as I chewed on my bottom lip. Maybe even color coordinate them to my top. That's a thing people do, right? "Holly", Alicia asked, from where she was sitting on her bed brushing her hair. "What are you doing? You've been standing there for the last five minutes without moving".
Broken out of my clothing dilemma, I look up at Alicia. Since it was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, Wood hadn't assigned quidditch practice for today. Probably to prevent his players from staging a coup. Which explains why Alicia is currently here and not on the quidditch pitch. Angelina too, except she decided to take advantage of this morning and sleep in. Releasing my lower lip, I decided to seek input. "How do girls know what to wear," I asked after a moment.
Alicia pulls her brush through her hair one last time before looking more squarely at me. "Pardon?" she asked.
I move my lips around as I try to think of a way to rephrase that question. "What should I wear that will make me look like a girl?" Maybe if I wear a skirt. The only problem is that the only skirts I own are my school skirts. I'm generally happy in either just a pair of leggings or jeans. It was a preference that carried over from Jessie's life. But I won't be warm enough in just leggings. And jeans just wouldn't be special enough for today.
Alicia snorts as she sets her hairbrush down on her bedside table. She scoots over to the edge of her bed and places her feet on the floor. "You are a girl," Alicia said, stating the obvious. "Unless you have agreed to switch places with either Fred and George again," she said a bit sarcastically. That was a joke Fred and I tried to pull during our first year. He wanted to compare the girls' dorm to his dorm. But that was before we knew about the enchanted stairs leading to the girls' dorm. Or rather, that was before Fred knew about the enchanted stairs. I, on the other hand, sat back and laughed as Fred publicly failed to impersonate me.
"Nah," I said, waving a hand at her as I went back to studying my clothes. "That didn't work the one time we tried. Besides, we can't pull that joke off anymore. Not since these came in" I said, briefly running my hands over my semi-bumpy chest. I suppose that is one type of clothing that I own that isn't boys' clothes. My bras are distinctively feminine. Maybe I should just wear a bra on the outside of my clothes today instead of under.
I hear a shuffling sound, and soon Alicia is standing on the other side of my bed, staring at all my clothes with me. "Why do you have an obsessive amount of plaid?" She asked.
I shrugged, looking at all the faded button-up plaid shirts that I owned. "Bill went through a phase when he was my age". I liked a lot of his old button-ups because I could use them as light layers and wear them over a t-shirt.
Alicia hummed to herself. Giving me the vague impression that my clothes aren't up to par with her style. "Why the sudden interest in your clothes?" Alicia asked.
"I'm going somewhere with someone". I said vaguely. Not sure why. Alicia would never settle for such an undescriptive answer.
"Is this somewhere Hogsmeade?" She asked. I nod my head. Of course, whatever I end up wearing is going to have to look okay with the pink hat. "And who is this someone?" Alicia asked directly.
Should I lie? It probably wouldn't do any good. She could always just look out for me at Hogsmeade to learn who I was going with. Besides, it's not like it is meant to be a secret. Even if it does feel like one. Pucey and I have nothing to hide. "Adrian Pucey". I said after a moment; looking up at Alicia.
Her eyes grew big and she clasped her hands together over her mouth. As if both thrilled and surprised for me. "So, Fred wasn't pulling my leg about you and Pucey". But then her voice changed to one sounding closer to disbelief. "And he asked you to go to Hogsmeade with him? A Slytherin and a Gryffindor are into each other?"
I rolled my eyes. Here's why I didn't want to tell anyone. Why can't a boy and a girl go to Hogsmeade together and just be friends? Ron and Hermione did it their third year before Harry had permission to go to the wizarding village… Okay, that might not be the best example. "Well, it wasn't like Snape could ask me to go with him". But Alicia no longer finds that joke funny, judging by her rolling eyes. "Besides, we're not into each other. I'm just returning a favor".
Alicia ignores me in favor of the narrative she is forming in her head. She moved her hands away from her mouth and clapped them on both of her cheeks instead. "Holly Weasley has a date". The way she said that made it sound like she had just found a Chupacabra in Scotland.
I wave my hands in the air with my elbows bent at my sides as if fanning away her insertion. "It's not a date. Pucey helped me out, and in return, I'm sparing him from having to spend the day with Stimpson". Still, I am ignored.
"Well," Alicia said, having turned back to my spread-out wardrobe. "I wouldn't recommend wearing your brothers' old clothes on a date-"
"It's not a date".
"But my advice would be just to wear what you are most comfortable with".
Despite this outing with Pucey not being a date, I guess that is sound advice. Surveying all my clothes, I have an easy time finding the most comfortable thing I own. But when I pick it up, Alicia immediately shakes her head. "No, Holly." She said, sounding embarrassed on my behalf. Is that what I get for taking her advice? "Not that comfortable. You can't wear your pajamas to Hogsmeade".
With Alicia's help, I eventually end up dressed in a pair of leggings with one of my school skirts paired with a borrowed gray cardigan from Alicia. She said that it was the only decent thing either of us had that stood the chance of not clashing with the pink hat I insisted on wearing. But what can I say? I choose not getting my mind broken into over fashion. Alicia insisted that I actually do something with my hair for my first date. Even though it's not a date, and I saw no reason why I shouldn't just wear it down. But I let Alicia plait it for me after she spent about ten minutes watching me struggle to pull it into a lopsided ponytail. In my defense, all my hairstyling knowledge comes from Bill after he decided to grow his hair long. Knowledge from my first life was no help with hairstyling. Jessie chose to wear knitted caps most days and got away with just brushing out the tangles. At 8:10 in the morning, I left Gryffindor Tower and headed for the entrance hall.
As we had discussed at an earlier time, Pucey is waiting for me by the entrance hall doors. He's dressed in a light jacket over a buttoned-up white shirt. His Slytherin scarf, the most colorful thing he is wearing, is wrapped under his chin. I wonder if he spent as much time thinking about what to wear as I had.
Pucey isn't alone. Holding his shoulders a bit stiffly, he seemed to be restraining himself from any ill-advised actions as Stimpson hung off of his arm. "It's alright, Adrian" The dish-water blonde simpered. "You don't need to be embarrassed. I know you're shy". At Stimpson's comment, I paused on my descent down the staircase. Squatting behind the railing, I stuffed a fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. Pucey, shy? Apparently, Stimpson and I don't know the same Pucey. Peaking over the top of the staircase railing, I study Pucey closely. The tautness of his cheeks and how hard he is clenching his fists tell me how much he is enjoying Stimpson's attention. I wonder how much he can withstand before he snaps. "That's why you said you already have plans when you don't". Stimpson is so pressed up against him, you'd think she was a koala clinging to a tree.
The urge to snigger gets to be so much that I fear that I wouldn't be able to contain it. But I managed. Was I this obnoxiously dramatic in my first life when Jessie was a young adolescent? I can't quite recall, but I hope the answer is no. There was a reason why I wasn't looking forward to going through the early teen years a second time. "Stimpson", Pucey started in a displeased yet refined voice. "I assure you. I do have an arrangement with someone else. She is merely running late".
I should take that as my cue to approach the very happy couple and give Pucey his reprieve. But I want to see what Stimpson does next. Something entertaining, I bet. "Oh," she moans in what I imagine, she thinks is a sympathetic way. "Adrian, it's okay. We've all told lies before".
It was the wrong thing to say. I can tell the minute a dark cloud of indignation consumed Pucey. "You forget yourself, Stimpson ''. Pucey said, looking straight ahead and refusing to look anywhere in Stimpson's direction. "People of our social standing, from families that are meant to serve as pillars of our society, are not supposed to lie''. Pucey's voice is so cold, that Stimpson becomes frozen. Hell, even I freeze up from my hiding spot on the staircase. Even so, I so desperately want to laugh about that 'pillars of society' comment. Only a Slytherin could pull off saying something so grandiose. "Now, my mother would smother me in my sleep if I laid hands on a girl. So, do me a favor, and let go". As if burned, Stimpson backs away. Acting like she doesn't recognize the person she was holding on to. And then Pucey did something truly scary. "Weasley!" At the sound of my name, I popped up from my squatting position like a jack-in-the-box. How did he know I was there? "Stop lurking around like a scavenger and let's go".
Forcing out a nervous, guilty laugh I adjusted the pink hat on my head as I finished walking down the stairs. "Sorry I was late. I got held up" I said, as I came to stand next to Pucey.
Pucey uses the corner of his eyes to look at me. "You don't say," he said dryly. Merlin, Pucey wears sarcasm like how I wear deodorant. Stimpson begins to sputter as if choking on a sip of water that went down the wrong way when Pucey offers me his arm. "I see you're wearing that atrocious hat" He observed as I tentatively took his arm. My hand rests on the inside portion of his elbow, and Pucey pulls his arm close to his side, drawing me in.
"I told you I would be wearing it,'' I said with a hapless shrug.
At the same time, Stimpson regained enough of her facilities to say, "Weasley? The person you have plans with is a Gryffindor?"
With a roll of his grey eyes, Pucey leaves her with these parting words. "We will not be Gryffindors and Slytherins forever".
But his words don't seem to mean anything to Stimpson. "A Weasley" she restated.
Pucey takes the high road this time and ignores the dishwater blonde. "Let's go," he said, steering us over to the doors.
I, however; do not. Walking side by side with Pucey, I look over my shoulder at Stimpson. With my free hand, I twist it around and wiggle my fingers at the other third-year girl. "Bye Stimpson. See you in class?"
But a disapproving sigh and a tug on my occupied arm have me facing forward again. "Don't encourage her", Pucey ordered as he opened the door and we stepped out into the morning sunlight.
We didn't say anything as we waited for Filch to check our names off on his list of students who have permission to go to Hogsmeade. But once we are out of earshot of the grumpy caretaker, I look up at my walking partner. "Do you really think you're a pillar of society?"
Hogsmeade's atmosphere is light and airy, as students from different houses and years wandered from shop to shop. It felt nice to see everyone outside of their school apparel for a day. Hogsmeade is everything Bill, Charlie, and Percy said it would be. Honeydukes is packed. So packed that Pucey and I took one look at it before turning the other way. We spent an ample amount of time in the stationary store, shopping for a new quill for Pucey. He selected a simple black one that promised to have a charm on it to prevent it from becoming dull. Nothing I said could persuade him to pick the peacock one. We avoided Zonko's joke shop altogether. "No need to draw the attention of any redheads that might be nearby" Pucey had said.
The place we spent the most time at was the shrieking shack staring at it a distance away from everyone else. It was probably the most prominent urban legend at Hogwarts; a creepy-looking, crumbling house that no one was allowed to enter. Everyone wondered who owned it. Who had lived there at some point in time? If anyone had ever lived there at all. The mystery was lost on me, of course; knowing that it was just a safe haven used for an old student that had a particularly furry problem. The shack itself wasn't the reason why we spent so much time looking at it. "You'll be cold, Weasley''. Pucey said as he turned away from the dilapidated building. He reaches up and untwines his scarf from around his neck.
Despite my heart speeding up, I stay still and calm as he rewraps it around my neck. It feels soft brushing against the underside of my chin, and I pick up the scents of mint and pine. Like Christmas. When Pucey is done he steps back, and his expression is calm with half of his mouth quirking upwards as he looks at me. It must be a funny sight. I can't imagine that a grey cardigan, a green and silver scarf, and a pink deerstalker is a nice-looking combination. I smiled in thanks for the scarf. "I'm glad you asked me to come with you," I said. "Even if it was just so you could avoid Stimpson".
Pucey turns back to face the shrieking shack. "You're only saying that because you got to tease her this morning. If you were truly trying to help me avoid her, you wouldn't antagonize her so".
He's probably right. "She just makes it so easy". I said, turning back to the shack as well. I bump shoulders with the solemn boy. "But was she the only reason you asked me to come here? I mean, I've seen the other members of your quidditch team. Compared to Flint and Higgins I'd think just about any girl from your house would be willing to go to Hogsmeade with you".
Pucey shrugs, as he moves his arms to hold his hands behind his back. His posture was immaculate. "I suppose," he said. "But today is my birthday. I'm allowed to associate with whoever I want on my birthday".
I turn my head to look at him. October 12th is his birthday? And he wanted to spend it with me? "Happy birthday," I said, looking forward once more. My face feels warmer and I don't think it is because of the scarf. "You're fourteen now?"
"Yes," Pucey said. But the way he said it made it sound not quite true. "Another year older," he said. "Though I suppose you are probably wondering exactly why I wanted you to go to Hogsmeade with me".
"You saw an opportunity and took advantage of it," I said. After all, it wasn't like he cornered me in the halls one day and asked me for a date. I asked for a favor and he returned in kind.
Pucey nods once, briefly tucking his chin against his chest. "You played into my cards, that's for sure". A glance over his shoulder and grey eyes meet brown. "Thank you for that. I've been trying to figure out how to get you alone to talk since after the first day of school but your brothers or your friends were always an earshot away".
I move my head side to side. That's one of the consequences of having a large family. I am rarely alone. "So, you have something you want to talk about that couldn't be discussed in potions?" I asked. I was becoming more intrigued by the minute.
"No," Pucey agreed. "The topic I have in mind is far too private for potions". A lapse of silence passes between us. I want to turn my head and study the boy standing shoulder to shoulder with me. But I don't. I don't in fear that any movement would prevent Pucey from sharing whatever it is that is on his mind. "I've had my suspicions for a while now. But not enough to approach you until now". Curiouser and curiouser. "Not until I learned that you can see thestrals and the episode in Quirrell's class". Wait, what? This time I do turn to him. I turn my whole body. But Pucey isn't looking at me. "Who are you, Holly Weasley?" Pucey asked, composed as he finally faced me.
The smile he was displaying previously is gone. In its place is the calculating, guarded stare of someone else. "I think you've already answered that". I said, fighting the urge to take a step back. Did I misread Pucey? I thought he was just a boy, looking for a friend that didn't get swept away by drama. "You've said it yourself. My name is Holly Weasley".
For a second, the half-smile returns to Pucey's face. But it doesn't last. "You're good at playing the part of a schoolgirl."
"Because I am a schoolgirl", I interrupted.
Pucey continues talking. "You'll giggle with your friends. Cause a ruckus with your brothers. And genuinely seem to be enjoying your school life. But when you think no one is looking at you, your face ages. You've seen things that our peers have not. You've thought of things that no child ever has".
I don't like where this is going. "Pucey, what are you going on about?" Though, I think I know what this is about.
"You're better at it than I am" Pucey goes on to say. As if, I hadn't said anything. "Keeping pace with our agemates. I find that the only way I can get by is through seeking solitude. But I still want to know. Who are you, Weasley? Or rather, who were you?"
Bullocks. Absolutely bullocks. Leave it to Pucey to piece things together. The one thing I never wanted anyone outside the family to know. Hell, I didn't even want anyone other than Fred and George to know. "How did you figure it out?" I asked. I don't want to tell the Slytherin that I was once a muggle. I don't think Pucey is as prejudiced as his housemates. I have hope for the boy. But I don't need to fuel him with ammunition either.
Indulging me, Pucey answers. "The only witches and wizards who can see thestrals are the ones who have seen death. Judging on the fact that you seem to be emotionally codependent with your triplets, I assumed that any death you could have possibly witnessed, they would have seen it too. But, that night at the carriages, they showed no reaction to the thestrals. You did. Furthermore, when I asked you about it you refused to speak about it. So, it was either a death that occurred recently or it was too strange a thing to talk about. It's unlikely to be the first based on how your brothers were acting. Your triplets I could've accepted if they didn't seem too sad. As prone to humor as they are. But your older brother and younger brother would surely be a bit sad if someone had died. However, they've all seem to be happy." Pucey pauses to give me another look. His eyes are alit with an energy that I had never seen in him before. He has me figured out, and he knows it. But I bet there is one big detail that he is unaware of. One that only Fred, George, and I know. "And of course, then you had that fit in DADA. After the fact, it is leaked to the whole school that it was a legilimency attack. A smart move on your part". Pucey said, revealing that he knew Fred, George, and I had purposely let it be known that someone had broken into my mind. "If everyone knew it was an attack and you had another fit everyone would know what happened. But legilimency is a funny bit of magic. If it is cast with a wand the victim will feel it. If it is cast non-verbally and without a wand, the victim won't be aware of the attack unless they are trained in occlumency. Or if they are like you. After all, the only legilimency victims that seize during an attack are the ones who remember a past life. So, I ask again. Who are you, Holly Weasley? I've been dying to know".
My mind whirls. I knew there were enough clues out there that a clever person could piece together that I know of a past life. Especially after the Quirrell attack. But I didn't think someone would go to such lengths to get me alone to interrogate me about it. And definitively not Pucey, who seemed to prefer to keep to himself in most cases. He admitted it; he's not good at keeping up with our peers. Wait….
A thought occurred to me, as Pucey and I stood in front of the shrieking shack, staring at each other. And not like we usually do. This time I am not blushing and he's not smirking. He said that I am better at it than he is. Why would he phrase it that way? It's such an odd thing to say. Why would he have to try to be on the same page as our classmates if he was normal? "You're like me!" I said, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You've died too".
In the moment of my accusation, Pucey adopts an expression of surprise. I've turned his mystery around on him. However, his surprise doesn't silence his tongue for long. "You are clever for a Gryffindor. I always thought so. Yes, I remember a past life too".
I let my pointed finger drop back to my side. One by one I recall every memory I have of Pucey. Both from my past, and Jessie's memories. But only one memory stands out. "But you said that you couldn't see the thestrals".
"I can't," Pucey assured. He sounds honest. But I'm not sure if I know anymore. "I didn't see myself die. I had my eyes closed when my lungs filled with water. And I believe my last moments were spent unconscious". He said it all as if he was merely quoting from the Daily Prophet.
"You drowned?" I asked, slowly. That sounded as bad as being stabbed to death.
Pucey nods. "It's okay. I was planning on dying. There would have been no way I could have gotten away with what I had done." This time I do take a step back. My right-hand slips into the pocket of Alicia's grey cardigan and grips the handle of my wand. If he is about to tell me that he was my murderer in our past lives, I may end up joining Sirius Black in Azkaban. Azkaban will be the only place for me if I am forced to commit homicide. "Imagine how shocked I was when I opened my eyes again, only to find out that the eyes I was looking out of weren't my first eyes". Pucey shrugs as if rolling around with a thought that was partially related to our discussion. "Though I suppose you don't have to imagine. You went through it too. I had died to be born again. I was given another life to set things right. To be better than I was the first time around".
Tightening my grip on my wand, I focus on Pucey's hands; both luckily visible. Neither one of them is holding anything. So, I don't think I am in danger. But this whole big reveal isn't settling well with me. There was no one with past lives, except perhaps Fawkes, in the books. Of course, everyone keeps mentioning other witches and wizards who remember past lives. But it never occurred to me that I might run across someone else with a similar experience. Especially not a canon character. "Who were you?" I asked, voice trembling. I don't want to know the answer. I fear the answer. Though I couldn't stop myself from asking either. "Adrian Pucey, who were you?
Pucey's grey eyes steels and I caught a flash of apprehension. Who was he that he didn't want me to know? "Regulus Black" … That might actually be worse than what I was theorizing. Thinking quickly, I tried to recall everything Jessie knew about Regulus Black. He was Sirius' younger brother. He was a death eater. And he died after he decided he no longer wanted to follow the dark lord. He died by drinking poison to get the locket and then was pulled into the water by the inferi. But that doesn't make sense. "Judging by the look on your face, I am assuming you know who Regulus Black was. I won't ask you how" Pucey said, bringing my attention back to him.
"How can you be fourteen when Regulus Black is your past life?"
"It confuses me too," Pucey said. "The first time I died it was 1980. The second time I was born, it was 1977. Basically, I was existing in two different places at the same time. No magical theory has ever covered anything remotely similar to what I experience. At least, nothing that I've been able to get my hands on".
I don't say anything. Even though I want to. I just can't figure out how to word the questions swimming around in my head. Something similar happened to me. The Harry Potter series is set in the nineties. Jessie was born in the nineties and grew up reading the books. And then she died and was reborn in 1978. I thought it was possible because I had been reborn into a different world. But if the same thing happened to Pucey then I guess I really don't know anything.
"By the time I was three, my first life was dead, the Black family in ruin, and there was nothing I could do about it".
"When you said you wanted to do better" I trailed off. I want to know what he means. Do better how? Better as a servant of you-know-who? Better as a person who doesn't support blood supremacy?
Our eyes locked together and all I see is the boy. Not the man he claims he used to be. "I don't want to make the same mistakes that I did last time." That still doesn't tell me where he stands. Is Pucey a friend like I thought him to be? Or is he someone to be wary of? Pucey gives me a moment to allow his words to sink in. But he doesn't give me too long. "Now you know who I am, Weasley. It's only fair. Who were you?"