O
DEMETER
Growth
Roxanne returned home from New York the following Friday morning. She sent Hope a message immediately, asking her to come over that afternoon for a long, overdue catch up, and Hope accepted at once. Dom, busy finalizing her Flyaway application, declined the offer, saying it would be best for them to have some time alone, and so Hope learnt about Roxanne's own struggles with being away. Homesickness, less intense than Dom's, had nevertheless been a factor. Their housemate Robyn had shifted from annoying to unbearable over the past year. Roxanne also provided a disgusted account of Alana, Dom's now ex-partner, and Hope could only be glad she was history. She sounded quite as bad as Cadmus, if in a different way.
In return, Hope gave Roxanne an almost identical account to Dom, and Roxanne's face displayed rare, raw emotion as she listened.
"I'm so sorry, Hope," she said at last. "I'm sorry we didn't know. Couldn't help. We were a bit worried about you, but we assumed we'd have heard from someone if you weren't OK. So we thought you were just... having loads of fun without us, I guess."
"Please don't apologise," Hope muttered. "How could you have known? I didn't tell anyone."
"True."
There was a dense but not uncomfortable pause. Hope registered that Roxanne had not asked about Cadmus yet. Surely the question was coming. But Roxanne merely gave her another hug.
"We're back now," she said. "And we are definitely here for you. Whatever you need."
"I think I just need normal," Hope said. "Normal chat. Normal everyday stuff. Like we had before. Then hopefully I'll feel normal again soon as well."
Roxanne was happy to oblige with this, and they spent an animated afternoon recounting events of the past two years in more detail, the subject eventually swinging back to relationships when Roxanne asked if anything had happened between Albus and Scorpius. Unwilling to give away her friends' continued secret, Hope merely shrugged in a non-committal way. Roxanne still didn't ask about Cadmus and Hope wondered if Dom had told her not to. It was unlike Roxanne not to probe. Unwilling to bring him up voluntarily, she listened instead to Roxanne's accounts of the men she had met herself while travelling.
"Leon was lovely," she said. "That French guy we lived with for a bit. I liked him and I think we could have made it work longer term if he had stayed. The rest were all… no strings attached, sex only kind of thing, you know."
Hope did her best to avoid screwing up her face at the thought, after her own experiences of 'no strings attached, sex only'. Roxanne read her expression.
"What?"
"Nothing," Hope assured her. "I'm not judging you, honest. I wasn't such a fan of the whole sex thing. In the end. That's all."
"Yes. Well. The boys you went for, I'm not surprised." Roxanne's eyes were reproving. She had not been able to hide her displeasure on hearing about Hope's own encounters, and Hope grinned properly at her habitual bluntness. It was soothing. A touch of the normality she was desperately craving.
O
Her mother was still at work when she returned home, but Remus was sitting at the kitchen table annotating a paper. His face brightened as he greeted his daughter and Hope knew she must be looking more cheerful than she had that morning.
"Good catch up, then?"
Hope nodded, helping herself to a drink and sitting down opposite him.
"It was like before," she said. "Same as with Dom. It felt like nothing had changed. Even though it's been two whole years and loads has changed since they left."
"I'm glad to hear that." Remus pushed away his paper to give her his full attention. "I would say it's the sign of a true friend. It - it was like that with Sirius, after I found out he was innocent. Everything had changed, yet somehow it hadn't, at the same time."
It was rare for him to make any reference to Sirius's wrongful incarceration, and Hope knew an instant wave of guilt that he hadn't meant to induce. She tried to hold onto what she had been told time and time again. All problems were problems. There was no shame in feeling the way she did. The experience of others did not dictate her own-
"Hope?"
Her face must have fallen, because Remus was now watching her in concern.
You're not supposed to be bottling up anymore.
"I feel bad." The words came out in a rush. "I still feel bad… for feeling bad. I know you and Mum said I shouldn't. And Martina said that too. But I do. Because I know how much worse my life could be and - I - I- "
She didn't know how to explain.
"Never mind," she mumbled, tracing a water droplet round the ring of her glass with her index finger. "I feel ungrateful. Sometimes. That's all. Guilty - I guess."
He let out a heavy sigh and reached over the table to grasp her hand briefly.
"I understand," he said. His tone was gentle. "Believe me. I can relate. To the guilt."
Hope watched him curiously as he drew back again, wondering if he was going to elaborate. For all his support over the past weeks, he had never discussed his own, personal experiences. Mum had, plenty of times, describing the hopeless feeling after Sirius had died, the struggle to regain motivation, the difficulties morphing that Hope had never encountered herself. But Mum was Mum. Wore her heart on her sleeve and always had. Dad was the opposite. He appeared on the verge of sharing something now.
"I think of them as the years in between," he said, after a pause. "The time from Voldemort's first fall to my teaching year at Hogwarts. I can admit, now, that those years were… less than easy-" Hope tried not to think about what less than easy really meant "-but at the time." He spread his hands. "I'd survived a war. Thousands hadn't. What right did I have to be anything but grateful?"
Hope stared at him, stunned. How could his situation be comparable?
"You had every reason-"
She trailed off. She may not know the grisly details but she knew enough. Knew that her paternal grandparents had died in an attack on their home before their son had even left Hogwarts. Following graduation, he had fought in the Order, lost all those closest to him as a result, then spent the following years in isolation, living a hand to mouth existence, full moon after full moon.
"And yet." His voice was firm, as though he knew where her mind was drifting. "I was alive. I was sane. I was free. I was reasonably healthy - full moons aside - and I was able to feed myself and put a roof over my head. The same could not be said for any of my closest friends, nor for most werewolves in Britain at the time. And in countries further afield, wars raged on, human rights were violated every minute, wizards and muggles alike lived in conditions we could not even imagine. They still do today."
The account of the hunt for Greyback had been proof of that. Even in this country, many werewolves still lived with minimal food provisions in basic, freezing accommodation, isolated from what most would consider to be normal civilisation.
"Others have it worse," Remus concluded simply. "They do. They always have. Likely always will. That doesn't mean we aren't allowed our own problems. Would you ever feel that being happy was wrong because you knew others had it better?"
Hope wasn't altogether convinced. It seemed different somehow, but that was certainly a novel way of looking at her internal dilemma.
"I guess not."
"Am I grateful I survived the wars, as did many of my friends and family? Of course I am." Hope knew the infinitesimal pause and brief close of the eyes was for Fred, Sirius, James and Lily among countless others. "Should we, in general, be grateful that we now live in times of peace with some of the best authorities our Ministry has ever known? Yes, I think we should."
Hope thought of Kingsley - who had now held office for twenty-five years, the longest of any Minister of Magic this century; Harry - widely regarded as the best head of the Auror Department to date; Hermione - now heading up the Department of Magical Law with unprecedented energy and determination. And she was grateful. To all of them. For being solid, reliable leaders, not to mention close friends and family who genuinely cared about her.
"I believe perspective is important," Remus continued. "So is empathy, and knowing your audience. I wouldn't complain about my own, manageable condition to someone living with a terminal disease, for example -" Hope did allow herself a fleeting, internal protest that Dad didn't complain about anything, but she did not voice this "- and I will always appreciate my family, my friends, my job, the stability they give me, while acknowledging that others aren't so lucky. But the ability to feel gratitude for what we have doesn't invalidate every other difficulty we encounter. For all their importance, gratitude, perspective and empathy have their own place in our lives. One that is separate from our personal pain, our sadness and our struggles."
Hope wanted to believe him. Desperately. Thinking in such terms was infinitely more comforting than her usual endless cycle of irrational thought.
"I know it isn't easy." Remus seemed to know what was going on behind the clear blue eyes. "It took me half a century to accept that the guilt wasn't necessary and I have no real advice on how to do that. Except, perhaps, to think of it like this. No two emotions are mutually exclusive by default." He cast around for an example. "We can feel excited for the future while being afraid of the unknown. Happy in ourselves yet regretful about past behaviour. Proud of our own achievements while admiring - even envying - someone else's. If I am frustrated at work, it doesn't mean that I hate my job. If I am temporarily annoyed with someone I love, it doesn't diminish that love. Not even a little bit."
"You mean like when I mess up the kitchen?" Hope asked.
He laughed at the feeble attempt at a joke.
"I was thinking of your Mum's habit of leaving her clothes everywhere, but - we can use your example."
He winked to show he was joking.
"Fear doesn't have to cancel out hope or optimism," he said, more seriously. "Regrets don't necessarily erase happiness. Anger and frustration don't affect our ability to love, and by that same token, feeling unhappy doesn't automatically make you ungrateful. Try and remember that."
She took a deep inhale of breath. Guilt was proving to be the hardest emotion of all to shift. But she would try. She had to.
"I will," she murmured. "Thanks. Dad."
O
Hope's birthday weekend consisted of a simple dinner with her parents, Gran and Teddy, followed by an evening spent with her two best friends, catching up on the latest gossip that Roxanne had courtesy of Morella. Quiet though the celebration was, Hope enjoyed it far more than she had previous ones. Next year, perhaps, she would be ready for a bigger party. She was slowly beginning to appreciate the presence of others, and though she had yet to accept one of the many dinner invitations still flooding her way, she was at least more enthusiastic about the idea of visitors.
"We have Percy and Audrey coming round on Thursday evening," Tonks informed her, as August drew to a close. "And the girls. There's no pressure to join though."
No pressure was fast replacing how are you feeling? in the list of phrases most likely to be said to her at any given moment, but Hope preferred it. Somehow, it felt like progress, a sign that being sociable was a permanent possibility rather than something to be avoided at all costs.
As she hadn't seen Percy or Audrey in months and knew that Molly and Lucy would be disappointed if she made herself scarce, she did indeed join them for dinner. Talking to Percy turned out to be easy, because all she had to do was listen to his views on the management of the floo network and nod along at all the right moments.
"And don't get me started on broomstick quality control at the moment," he added. "We are seeing serious repercussions from the loosening of regulations a decade ago. They were passed before I became head of the department, of course."
He cast a sudden, worried look in Hope's direction.
"What broomstick do you have, Hope?"
"Still got my Nimbus 5x," Hope said. "Haven't ridden it in a while though."
She still hadn't been able to contemplate flying again, much less get back into quidditch. Percy looked relieved at her answer. "You'll be pleased to know that Nimbus continue to comply with all safety regulations," he informed her. "Even those that are no longer compulsory. Haven't had any problems or an increase in incidents with Nimbus brooms. So you'll be safe in the air with the 5X, and I would stick with them if you get a new one, too."
Tonks caught Hope's eye and winked. Hope bit her lip to stop herself reacting, but she knew that for all his pontification, Percy meant well.
"I know you've always been very into quidditch," Percy went on. "And there are a few openings coming up soon in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. No pressure," he said quickly, as Audrey fixed him with a pointed, you're-not-being-sensitive-enough stare. "But if you're interested, do let me know. I could put in a good word for you."
"Thank you," Hope said sincerely, meaning it. "I think I'd need more qualifications, though, if I was going to work at the Ministry."
"Ah! Well, Audrey would be the one to advise on qualifications," Percy said. "She mainly deals with international study, as you know, but she'll have plenty of contacts with information about local education, if you wanted to take further exams."
Hope had forgotten that Audrey also worked at the Ministry now, in the International Education Office.
"I'm happy to drop some booklets over to you next week," Audrey said. Hope thanked her profusely as well, relieved when the topic reverted to Percy's feelings on the revision of the 1998 portkey policy. Conversations about the future were overwhelming, and her friends' and family's sensitivity was appreciated. At the same time she didn't like being tiptoed around and wanted to be treated normally. It seemed there was a delicate balance to be had between the two sentiments, one that she couldn't always find.
She turned to Molly, seated on her other side. Nervous about starting Hogwarts in less than a week, the younger girl immediately bombarded her for advice, which Hope tried to give as best she could.
"...and Lucy's said I can take Hope with me," Molly said, nodding towards their pet, who was attempting to play with Dot in the corner of the room. So far, Dot was firmly ignoring her, but the red pygmy puff persevered. "That will be OK, won't it?"
"Of course," Hope said. "Other students love pygmy puffs. She'll get loads of attention. I suppose you'll miss her?" she added to Lucy.
"Yes, but Dad's getting me an owl," Lucy beamed. "So we can send letters to each other. I want one of those giant eagle owls, the massive ones!"
"We agreed on a small to medium sized owl, Lucy," Percy said, overhearing this, pausing in his monologue and looking down the table to his daughter. Lucy rolled her eyes once he had turned away and Hope observed this exchange with interest. Could it be that Lucy the angel wasn't so angelic these days?
"I really want to be in Ravenclaw," Molly said, turning back to Hope, her own face still crumpled with worry. "Like you were."
At this, Hope swallowed, remembering her own sorting, the decision she had made while seated on that old stool, and the years of doubt that had followed. Had her choice been for the best in the end? She would never know.
"I understand that," she said to Molly. "But remember that the Sorting Hat sees where we might fit in best. It might have somewhere better for you to go. At least listen to what it says, when you're being sorted, won't you?"
Four days later, when she heard that Molly had been sorted into Hufflepuff, she couldn't help but feel relieved. Hufflepuff was surely the best place for sweet, friendly little Molly. Maybe Hope the pygmy puff would enjoy Hogwarts more than Hope Lupin had.
oOo
September
September the first without a journey on the Hogwarts Express brought a strong reminder that school was over now. Forever. Regardless of the qualifications she may need or embark upon in the future, Hope didn't have to go back to Hogwarts ever again. She didn't have to share a dormitory with Elodie Carmichael, or a common room with Alec Peters and Tim McLaggen. She didn't need to do homework she couldn't be bothered with or sit through lessons she didn't care about. The memory of her excitement to start Hogwarts as an eleven-year-old did sadden her on occasion, given the deterioration of said excitement over the years, but the positive impact of being finished for good was far greater, rivalled only by the return of her two best friends, who she now saw nearly every day.
There were still bad days. Many of them. Guilt remained persistent, panic attacks endured and although Hope continued to attend her sessions with Martina, she wasn't convinced they were helping. She still wouldn't have described her mood as happy, and she couldn't remember the last time she had properly laughed out loud. Despite this, it was becoming easier to focus on the positives, and as the weeks rolled by, Hope began to dedicate time and thought to her future and to the possible careers that lay ahead of her.
She started by compiling a list of her interests, but as the only activity she had ever truly loved was quidditch, this didn't get her very far. Next, she pored through adverts in The Daily Prophet, and it quickly became evident that she was going to need better OWLs and NEWTs to secure any of the jobs that appealed to her. It seemed her mother had been right after her fifth year. Exam results were important for her future, and while George was a shining example of the people in this world who didn't need academic achievements to succeed, Hope didn't feel she was set to follow in his footsteps. Further study looked to be the way forward for her.
Accepting this and doing her best not to dwell on the might-have-beens, Hope turned with some reluctance to the stack of booklets that Audrey had dropped round as promised. The prospect of further study was daunting, but she wasn't stupid. She was clever, and she could work hard when she put her mind to it. If academic work was the next step to take, then so be it.
Retaking her NEWTs at Hogwarts would be the most straightforward way of obtaining them. She knew Hermione had done that after the war and it wasn't unheard of even now. Hope balked at the mere thought of being back at the castle, and the idea of having to sit in classes again, with students younger than her, every one of them holding the knowledge that she was too dim to have passed first time round... It made her nauseous to imagine it.
No, returning to Hogwarts was not an option. Engaging in personal study and private tuition to retake the exams would be difficult though not impossible. Might there be other options? International ones, perhaps. The sheer amount of information Audrey had given her on the subject was overwhelming. Nevertheless, Hope did her best to work through it methodically as the days wore on, discarding most of them but shortlisting a few.
Language courses at Santa Luciana in Brazil went on the maybe pile. Languages would always be useful, although it may be more helpful to focus on her magic for the time being.
Medical training at St Etienne's in Paris was a firm no. Healing was one career that was not for her.
Ilvemorny offered a range of diplomas to wizards of all ages, and anyone she knew who had been to wizarding America had spoken highly of the experience. Practical courses at the Salem witches academy in Massachusetts were also a viable option.
A privately run institution in Vienna offered magical music education. Not for her either, but Hope kept it aside in case Louis was interested.
Next, Hope extracted a thick brochure about the Carlos Institute in Spain, and flicked through it with increasing interest. She knew The Carlos Institute had been instrumental in the Narcoviral Curse research, and she had always assumed it was a hospital like St Mungo's and St Etienne's. It appeared, in fact, to be an institution of general research, training and teaching, based on the outskirts of Madrid.
Hope skimmed through the list of courses offered, of which there were many. They ran language courses like Santa Luciana, as well as short training programmes to improve spell work, night classes for locals and residential courses for international students, conducted in a variety of languages including English. One caught her eye in particular: The Intensive Magical Study programme. A year long, comprising of a different module every six weeks, it was designed for of-age witches and wizards who wanted to gain further expertise in subjects they had not covered in school. The module options were diverse and could be selected according to the applicant's strengths. The qualification, when obtained, was equivalent to three NEWTs and recognised in Britain.
Heart beating faster, Hope read down to the entry requirements. Complete the application form. Easy enough. Provide a character reference. Her family had a wide circle of friends who would be happy to oblige. Get an academic reference. That could be trickier but she had options. There were no grade specifications because a key objective of the course was accessibility to students with no prior qualifications. Finally, a thousand word statement on why she wanted to study in wizarding Madrid. Hope knew nothing about Madrid, wizarding or otherwise. That didn't mean she couldn't read up on it.
Something to think about, certainly, and the application deadline was not until April. Plenty of time to get her act together.
O
Charlie and Alex came over for a flying visit - no warning as always - at the end of the month, and Hope, who had not seen them since the previous summer, went round to Shell Cottage for a catch up. As with the rest of the family, she could tell immediately that they had been informed of her recent situation by the way they greeted her. They didn't ask her any pointed questions, however, and Hope spent a happy couple of hours listening to their amusing tales of unruly dragons and current issues with Romanian bureaucracy.
Eventually, the conversation turned to quidditch. Hope was not keen to admit that she had stopped playing the previous year, convinced that they would both be disappointed in her, Alex as a former Ravenclaw and Charlie as a previous quidditch captain, but she wasn't going to lie to them, and so she told them about quitting the team even as the six year record entered their reach. Both reactions turned out to be as kind as everyone else's had been.
"People were appalled when I stopped playing," Charlie told her. "But you have to do what's best for you. There's more to life than quidditch, anyway."
"There's also more to life than dragons," Alex whispered, winking, and Hope smiled at this while Charlie shook his head in mock horror.
"Would you play again, though?" he asked. "If the opportunity came up."
Occasionally, Hope dreamt she was playing in a quidditch match, always against Gryffindor, for some reason. They were the most wonderful dreams that she wanted to stay in forever, until she woke up and remembered that she no longer considered herself to be a chaser. She didn't even want to go near her broomstick at the moment.
"Maybe," she acknowledged. "Not right now. But maybe one day."
One, hypothetical day in the future when all her worries and hang ups were in the past.
Dot, who had been wary of all new people except Dom, took a liking to Alex too, nudging at his fingers and letting him pick her up and put her on his shoulder.
"She doesn't normally like new people," Hope informed him. "She bit Al and Victoire when she first met them, although she's fine with them now."
"Maybe it's the hair," Alex grinned. "Thinks I'm a kindred spirit." He did have unusually soft, tufty black hair that stuck up in all directions.
Bill came in at that point and asked, as he always did, if Hope wanted to stay for dinner, and she knew he was already expecting the answer to be 'no thank you." But... why shouldn't she? She was enjoying the conversation with Charlie and Alex. Dom would be home shortly, as would Louis, and she hadn't seen Fleur much at all recently. They were all safe people who she trusted, whose company she not only enjoyed, but currently wanted. What had been an impossible thought a mere month ago didn't seem so difficult anymore.
"Yeah. I will, thanks," she said. "If that's OK?"
Bill's only response was to nod, but Hope could tell he was delighted.
oOo
October
Dom, who had been unsuccessful in her application to The Flyaway, went for a similar position that came up with Quality Quidditch Supplies at the beginning of October, and this time, after two interviews and a demonstration of her practical skills, she was successful. Roxanne, courtesy of her own excellent NEWT results and a glowing reference from Gee in Australia, secured herself a job that same week, and started as Project Coordinator in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes five days later. Roxanne was happy enough with the position "for now", and admitted that the accompanying salary was likely to counterbalance the more boring aspects of the work.
"I mean, it's not James's level of income," she told Hope. "But compared to what I was on in Australia, it's a fortune."
James had been promoted at Gringotts over the summer and had recently bought himself an enormous, newly renovated, top floor flat in Diagon Alley.
"I still haven't seen James's new place," Hope admitted. "He's asked a couple of times if I want to but I keep making excuses."
"You should go," Roxanne said. "You'll have to put up with him giving you the tour of every bloody cupboard and shelf, but it's a seriously cool flat."
Hope went round the following week. Neil had also been roped into the grand tour, and, as Roxanne had predicted, James walked them through every square inch of the rooms: the enormous sitting room, the equally spacious kitchen and dining area, two large bedrooms - both with ensuite bathrooms - and huge storage cupboards that lined the hallway. There was also a balcony off the main bedroom and a little roof terrace up from the kitchen.
"'I'm trying to convince Neil to move into the spare room," James said to Hope. "Because having a flatmate like me would improve your life. Don't you agree? And I want the pleasure of his company in return," he added quickly.
"Shove off. All you want is help paying off the Gringott's loan," Neil snorted, but he was looking back at the stairs to the roof terrace, visibly impressed.
"I'll give you mates' rates. You aren't saving a knut renting your flat at the moment."
"Yes, but I like living alone," Neil said. "There's no one in my personal space."
"How much space do you need? You'd have a room and a bathroom all to yourself here."
"The quicker you save, the quicker you'll be able to buy somewhere of your own," Hope chipped in.
"Hmm. I guess." Neil still looked doubtful.
"You can move in if you like instead," James said, turning to Hope. For a second she was terrified that he was serious, but he winked at her and she realized what his game was. Sure enough, Neil looked put out. "Hang on. I didn't say no yet," he objected.
"I'll think about it," Hope said to James, playing along. "I do need to get out of my parents' house. And you wouldn't find a better flat than this."
"No! Wait," Neil said indignantly. "I have first dibs. You can't take it away before I've decided."
Half an hour later, he had agreed to put his notice in on the studio flat and move in with James at the end of the month.
"Stubborn git," James muttered, when he'd left the room. "You didn't actually want to move in, did you?" he added, looking worried that he had misread the situation.
Hope shook her head. "Definitely not ready to leave home yet. And I'm unemployed. Even mates' rates wouldn't account for that."
James nodded without further probing. He had not asked her how she was, seeming to understand how she felt about that particular question.
"Got some friends coming round for drinks tomorrow night," he said. "Break in the wine cupboard. If you fancy it? Will be us lot and Matt's new boyfriend. And some friends from work."
"Thanks," Hope said. "I appreciate it. Might not though." Seeing family was one thing. Interacting with strangers was another.
"Offer's there if you change your mind," James said. Then, very casually: "Towler won't be there, if that's what you're wondering."
Adam hadn't been the issue, but something about his tone intrigued Hope.
"Why not?"
James shrugged.
"No particular reason. We don't see him anymore - he's always got stuff going on with his work or his girlfriend." He hesitated, then added, "and we didn't exactly appreciate how he acted towards you. Breaking up with you and then playing the injured party. So…"
"I'm over it," Hope said, which was true. The bitter relationship with Cadmus had blown any hard feelings for Adam out of the water. She was moved nonetheless by what James had said. Touched that he had noticed, that he seemed to care, and by the word 'we' which implied that his friends cared too.
Not for the first time, she wondered how her final years at school might have turned out if she had never been with Adam. Would the unperturbed friendship with James and his mates have given her the momentum to get through her years at school?
There was no point dwelling on what might have been. Her mother had said as much two months ago. A million ways her life could have turned out and she would never know any but the one she was living.
"Good," James said, in response to her comment. "No point dwelling on that idiot. He's a nice enough guy apart from that and if he kept in touch I'd make an effort. But he doesn't, so I don't bother either."
Hope thought she understood, even though she had no loose Hogwarts friendships of her own to compare.
"I'll still pass on tomorrow night," she said. "If that's OK."
"'Course. Open invite though. Any time you want to hang out."
O
Two weeks later the subject of moving out materialised again. This time the offer was serious.
"What?" Hope was sure she had misheard.
"We're going to rent a flat together," Roxanne repeated, gesturing to Dom who was sitting on her bed in the corner with Dot on her knee. "Now that we've both got jobs. Love our parents dearly but living at home after two years away is stifling. And we think you should move in with us too."
Hope's first reaction was joy. Her heart leapt at the thought of living with them, of seeing them morning and night every day, like she had at school. Reality closed back in quickly.
"I can't move out. I don't have a job," she protested. "I'm not close to getting one. I haven't even applied for anything yet." Despite Audrey's pointers, helpful talks with all three eldest Weasley uncles and many hours spent in her room weighing up her options, she still wasn't close to knowing what she wanted to do.
"We could cover your share of the rent until you got one?" Dom suggested, but Hope glared.
"Absolutely not. That could be months."
"Say you'll think about it, at least?" Roxanne pleaded. "We've already had a look and there are some cheapish three beds on the outskirts of London available soon."
"You're going to rent a muggle one?" Hope asked.
"God no," she laughed. "Muggle rent is extortionate - even worse than Diagon Alley. But there are wizarding flats dotted around everywhere if you know what you're looking for and they are much more reasonable."
Hope was tempted. More than tempted. Dot left Dom's lap and came bouncing up her arm in an encouraging sort of way.
She couldn't.
"It's too many things to figure out and I don't even know where to start at the moment. I appreciate the offer," she added, as Roxanne looked disappointed. "You know I'd love to live with you. I - I just don't think I can. Not right now."
"It might help though," Roxanne persisted. "To live away from home. Change of scene. Change of company. You'd still be able to go to your parents' whenever you wanted. We'd want a place that was connected to the floo network."
"Rox, don't force her," Dom protested, and Roxanne subsided, but Hope did think about the prospect carefully later that night.
Maybe moving out would help. As Roxanne had said, her parents weren't far away if she needed them, and she didn't want to be left out, not again. Not this time. Not after missing out on two years of laughter, jokes and everyday friendship. Not when they so clearly wanted her to live with them.
She couldn't. The rent was the main obstacle. Her chances of getting a good job with three OWLs and no NEWTS had to be nil. She was not willing for anyone to cover her financially, not when her parents were already providing everything she needed. Muggle work while she tried to get some further qualifications was a possibility but an unappealing one, and both muggle pay and employment rates were lower than ever at the moment, as the muggle economy had yet to recover fully from the crisis induced by the Narcoviral Curse.
So that was that. She couldn't afford to move out yet and it wasn't fair to ask Dom and Roxanne to wait around while she got her act together. She would have to wait until she got a job and move out in her own time.
Unless...
There was… possibly... one other option.
Hope picked up her Wiznote, thinking hard. Then she put it down. Two minutes later it was back in her hand. It couldn't hurt to ask.
Michael was saved as a contact and there was only one message from him, sent on June 25th. "Hope you're feeling OK today. Let me know if you want to talk. X"
Hope had no idea what that was about, but that had been the day after the solstice visit and she had been wasted beyond belief that night. No doubt other students had noticed her pitiful state.
She began composing a message before putting the Wiznote down yet again. She couldn't. She wasn't ready to be sociable, nor to work long hours into the evenings and talk to strangers every day.
Dot, perched on her shoulder, stuck out her tongue and licked her ear before jumping with determination onto the Wiznote.
"I can't," Hope told the pygmy puff. "I can't even talk to family right now without feeling overwhelmed. I'd never be able to work behind a bar."
Dot bristled with reproach and Hope remembered the day Ron had brought her round. The days that had followed. The weeks that had now elapsed since Dom and Roxanne's return. Sometimes it didn't feel like she'd made any progress at all since then and yet… She hadn't cried for a week now. Hadn't spent all day in bed for two. She was taking each day step by step. The tiniest steps in the world that were, slowly, leading her to a better place. Maybe this was another step to take, a bigger one than before.
Hope snatched up the Wiznote and scrawled the message to Michael before she backed out again.
"Hey - I know this is a long shot but is there still work going at The Leaky Cauldron?"
The reply came in two hours later.
"Yes! If you're interested, Mum says pop round for a chat anytime."
O
The following morning, as might have been expected, all Hope's motivation and positive thoughts about the potential employment had gone. What had she been thinking? Working at The Leaky Cauldron had to be the least appropriate job in the world for her right now. She would have to get back to Michael and say she was sorry to have wasted his time.
And stay at home until she found suitable employment.
While Dom and Roxanne have fun living together without you.
Could she do it? If she really put her mind to it?
Surely she could.
Thoughts racing round in circles, Hope dwelt on the subject all morning, and her lack of concentration did not go unnoticed by her grandmother, who had popped in for a visit. After several concerned questions, Hope ended up explaining her internal struggle.
"...and I don't even know if I'll be any good at this job," she finished. "I don't even have it yet. Hannah will probably take one look at my experience and say no thanks. Plus, Mum and Dad have done so much for me recently. I wouldn't want to - you know - offend them."
Gran remained thoughtful for a long moment, then sighed.
"You didn't hear this from me," she said. "But your mother's decision to move out of the family home was one of the best things she could have done."
Hope looked up at her in some surprise.
"I was resistant to it, as you have likely heard," Andromeda added, noticing her astonishment. "Nymphadora wanted to buy her own flat, refusing all our offers of financial help. I was far from pleased - I would have preferred her to stay at home until we found her a house together. One that we could help her buy and customise to her liking. A house in a nicer neighbourhood where she could have more space. But no, she was adamant about buying the flat she could afford, on her own, and of course, Ted reminded me that I didn't have a leg to stand on, having run away from my own family home at the age of sixteen." She pursed her lips but her eyes betrayed amusement. "I didn't take kindly to being compared to my own parents, but he had a point. Independence did us both a world of good."
She took a gulp of her tea.
"Now, I know you and your mum's relationship has always been different," she went on. "I can tell you now that neither of your parents will ever ask you to move out. A child flying the nest brings with it a particular sort of grief. Nor, however, will they be offended at you seeking independence. They will want what is best for you and only you can decide what that is."
Andromeda didn't seem to be looking for a spoken answer, but Hope thought hard all the same as they continued to sip their drinks in silence.
"I want to live with Dom and Roxanne," she said at last, putting down her empty mug. "I don't want to be left out. I think it might be good for me to have a change of scene. And I'm sure I could manage the work in The Leaky Cauldron. Or find a different job that would cover the rent if it wasn't for me."
The lines in her grandmother's face creased together in fond and proud smile.
"I think that's your answer then, my dear," she said simply.
O
Roxanne and Dom were thrilled with her decision, but Hope still had to secure the job itself. She arranged a short meeting with Hannah Longbottom, half expecting to be turned away the second Hannah realised she had never done any kind of work, let alone bar work, in her life. But Hannah appeared delighted by her honesty.
"There is nothing worse," she told Hope, "than someone who believes they know it all. I already know you're trustworthy and reliable. So keen to learn is all I need on top of that."
Hope assured her that she was more than ready to learn. She felt it only right to tell Hannah that she had been unwell recently and that she may have bad days in the future, but Hannah was understanding about this too, and so they agreed on a November start date, a rate of pay that seemed more than reasonable to Hope, considering her lack of qualifications, and a shift pattern that could be flexible. Much to Hope's relief, she would always be working with Michael, Hannah or occasionally Susan Finch-Fletchley. She would never be in charge of the bar and restaurant on her own. Nor would she be responsible for cooking - that was taken care of by an elderly witch named Joan whose family had been working at The Leaky Cauldron for generations.
Hope left the pub feeling buoyant. Now all that remained was to tell her parents. Knowing that the longer she put it off, the less she would want to broach the subject, she explained the plan to her parents and Teddy over dinner that evening. As her grandmother had predicted, their main concern was that she was doing what was best for herself.
"Living with friends is something special," Remus told her. "I shared a flat with Sirius for a while after school. I think it would be really good for you, if it's what you want."
Tonks had not said much, and Hope looked at her anxiously, wondering if she was upset, but her eyes glowed as she reached out to squeeze her daughter's arm.
"I agree," she said. "That's not to say we won't miss you, but if you are ready to move out then we support it one hundred percent." She hesitated. "And you're happy with the idea of working at The Leaky Cauldron?"
This was the slight sticking point. Hope was feeling a wave of dread every time she remembered what she had committed to that morning. But she was determined to be brave about it. Pushing out of her comfort zone felt like the best way forward right now.
"I am," she said, with conviction. "I'm nervous, but I'll be fine. Hannah was so nice about everything today. She said as long as I was keen to learn I would get on well there."
Teddy did appear mildly amused at this.
"So you're going to be pulling pints and making cocktails?"
"And serving food," Hope told him, returning the grin. "And cleaning up the bar, and setting up for the overnight guests. And taking bookings. But yes, I suppose serving drinks is the main thing."
"Can you name one drink they have in stock? Other than butterbeer," he amended, as Hope opened her mouth to reply. She shut it again.
"No," Hope admitted, after considerable thought. "But that's the part I'm going to learn about."
Teddy laughed softly. "Fair enough, Dopey. Good for you. I guess congratulations are in order then!"
Hope wasn't sure the achievement was big enough to warrant a toast, but her parents' had already joined in, and so she let them raise a glass to her new job.
"To Hope," Teddy said, the amused twitch still playing on his lips. "Soon to be the best bartender The Leaky Cauldron has ever seen."
oOo
November
Teddy's toast was a long way from accurate, and it would have been a lie to say that she was a natural bartender or waitress. Hope's first couple of weeks on the job were plagued with mistakes, not to mention breakages, but Hannah and Michael were both patient, always willing to explain the parts she had forgotten or didn't understand, and emboldened by their kindness and pleasant company, her level of confidence grew by the day.
"You know, I think this was my first shift without smashing anything, giving someone the wrong order or falling over," Hope said to Michael, one Friday afternoon, as she finished up.
"I think you're right!" he replied seriously, eyes sparkling. "Definite progress."
"I still can't believe your Mum would rather have me than someone with proper experience."
"Ah. See, Mum's still scarred from Jolyon," Michael told her.
"Who's Jolyon?"
"The guy we had to replace Susan when she was on maternity leave. He had years of experience, his references were good, he was friendly and charismatic. Seemed a no brainier. Turned out to be a nightmare. He was convinced he knew everything, refused to listen to what Mum wanted, kept arguing with the customers and double booking the rooms. Mum was sick of him after the first week but she felt too guilty to fire him. She can't do confrontation, so she kept him on until Susan came back. Luckily, she had built up too good a reputation here for Jolyon to damage it, but there were some close calls!"
Hope smiled ruefully. "Well if she wants to fire me, I'd prefer her to do it, I think. Rather than secretly detesting me in the background."
"Mum likes you," Michael insisted. "I keep telling you. She thinks you're doing great. There's no limit to how many times you can use Reparo on a pint glass, remember."
Hope smiled gratefully at this, before checking her watch.
"I'd better go. Our viewing is in fifteen minutes."
"Oh yeah! Is this the house or the flat?"
"The flat," Hope said. "The house is later on."
"Have fun! Hope you like it."
He waved cheerily as Hope left to meet up with Dom and Roxanne. The hunt for a place to live was proving fruitless so far. All the properties they had viewed had been unsuitable for one reason or another. One had been damp, which, as Roxanne said, was not good news in a supposedly magical flat. Another had smelt strongly of burning Novakine and Dom had vetoed it immediately. The last one they had viewed had turned out not to be a three bed flat at all, rather a two bedroom flat with with a camp bed squeezed into the bathroom.
The two they were to view this evening, however, looked promising - a top floor flat near Richmond and a little house on the outskirts of Croydon.
"I like the house best," Roxanne declared, after they had viewed both. "Having a private garden would be cool."
Dom wrinkled her nose. "It felt very cold though," she protested. "In atmosphere rather than temperature. The flat was much cosier. And the landlord seemed more on it with the upkeep."
They both looked expectantly at Hope, who grimaced. She had not bargained on having to cast a deciding vote.
"I don't know," she said helplessly. "They were both nice."
She had no particular preference. They were similarly priced. The house had bigger rooms. The flat had a bigger living area. The house had two bathrooms but the flat had a more spacious kitchen. Both had an outdoor area, although as Roxanne had pointed out, the flat garden was communal, shared with the lower floor flat.
"I think we should go for the flat," Dom said again. She was far more assertive than she had been prior to their travels, Hope had noticed recently, and it suited her well. "It's in a better location and the landlord seemed more reliable. The other one was half an hour late and completely dodged that question about maintenance issues. Plus the flat guy said that the old lady who lives below doesn't even use the garden. So it would be like having our own space."
Roxanne sighed, unwilling to relent on her own position but not keen to argue further. "Why don't we sleep on it and decide in the morning?"
In the end, the decision was taken out of their hands. The house was snapped up early the next day by other renters and, eager not to waste more time or let another good property go, Hope, Dom and Roxanne signed the rental agreement on the flat the same day.
O
"I would have told you to go for the flat anyway," Morella said to Roxanne. She had dropped by for a chat and Hope lingered to catch up with her too. Morella had not changed one bit in the year since she had last seen her, bubbly and vivacious as always. So unlike her brother. Hope could no longer pretend that having a kind, cool older sister automatically made Cadmus a decent person too.
"I still think the house was great," Roxanne sighed. "And we could have moved in next week, instead of December."
"Flat's are so much cosier than houses though," Morella said. "Dom's right about that. I think I'm going to live in a flat forever, you know, even if I can afford a house one day."
"Your parents' house is enormous," Roxanne pointed out. "There are things in between a flat and a gigantic stone mansion with ten acres of land."
"True," Morella grinned. "And I suppose if I had to choose between a house and the festering hovel we were born in, I'd take the house."
"You were born in a flat?" Hope asked in surprise. Cadmus had never mentioned that. Then again, What Cadmus hadn't told her about his life could probably fill a book.
"Oh yeah, my parents used to be dirt poor," Morella said, with an offhanded yawn. "Lived in a mouldy, one bedroom flat in Dagenham. I don't have many memories of it, but enough. My father couldn't hold down a job in the Muggle world if you can believe it - go figure why he was done for theft. Then they inherited a load of money when my uncle died, he bought his massive fuck off mansion, made a load of investments and has been lording it up ever since." Her mouth twisted into a disdainful sneer. "Some might say it was the money that made him an arsehole, but I reckon he's always been a despicable human being. The rich uncle was definitely a piece of shit."
Roxanne and Hope exchanged an uncomfortable grimace but then Morella shrugged and shook out her dark curls.
"Standard family crap," she said. She turned to Hope. "So what happened with you and my idiot brother in the end? Do I need to beat him up for you?"
Hope hadn't been able to tell anyone the full extent of the relationship and break up, not even Dom and Roxanne. She wasn't going to tell his own sister.
"No," she said, avoiding Roxanne's sharp gaze. "Things weren't great, but I'm over it now."
Was she over it? She was well and truly over Adam. Cadmus, she was less sure about. Her mood continued to improve at a steady rate, but she hadn't yet been able to banish the frequent panic attacks, and as she hadn't spoken to Martina about Cadmus either, she wasn't any closer to working out if the relationship was the cause of them.
"That means he was a terrible boyfriend," Morella said. "And so I apologize on his behalf. With a father like ours it's not surprising, but that can't always be an excuse."
Hope twitched her shoulders, unwilling to engage, and Morella took the hint, changing the subject again.
"Are you guys going to have a flatwarming once you've moved in?"
"Surely you don't have a flatwarming if you're only renting?" Hope protested.
"Of course you do! The flat will still be yours for now. You'll need to celebrate that somehow."
"We could have one later in December," Roxanne said, perking up at this idea. "When the others are back from school for the holidays. Only if you're OK with it," she added hastily to Hope. "No pressure, honestly."
Hope considered this. The idea of inviting a lot of people to her home didn't fill her with delight. Nor did it fill her with all-consuming dread. She could always stay with her parents for a night if she didn't want to join in, and if she did it would be a chance to catch up with the younger Weasleys, who she had barely seen over the summer.
The more she thought about it, the more she came around to the idea of a gathering in December. A further sign, she supposed, that Ron had been right. Step by step, her feet were starting to fall on solid ground. Dot by dot, the clear picture was finally coming into focus.
OOO