O
PANACEA
Healing
News of Flint's arrest spread rapidly without any concrete information about his crimes, and the details of the case remained confidential. Even Morella, involved in some way, was not able to discuss it.
"It must be deadly serious," Roxanne said to Dom and Hope. "I've never known Morella not talk about something."
"How is she?" Dom enquired, and Roxanne rubbed her nose, looking troubled.
"Subdued," she said. "Understandable obviously, but I've never known her like that, so it's pretty strange."
Subdued was certainly not a word Hope associated with Morella Flint and she was finding it difficult to forget her guilty conscience over the part she knew she must have played in recent developments.
"I feel sorry for Morella," she admitted to Michael one night, after a busy Friday evening shift when they were finishing up in the kitchen. "And even-" the sentence stuck in her throat. She still struggled with his name. "Both of them, I guess," she finished. Michael gave her a narrow look but didn't reply. "Having a father like that. Rox heard a rumour that Mrs Flint was arrested too. I thought she was assisting with enquiries so it might not be true, but imagine if it is. I do feel sorry for them, in a way."
Michael made a non-committal noise in his throat as he continued polishing the cutlery. "Morella, sure," he said. "Cadmus, not so much."
"Yeah, but I guess it's a bit like The Crow," Hope pressed on. "What chance did he ever have if his father - maybe even his mother - were criminals from day one?"
"You can't compare Cadmus to The Crow," Michael objected. "The Crow was imprisoned by Umbridge his entire life, he had no interaction with anyone else or a single positive influence. Evil was all he ever knew."
"I suppose."
Hope was wishing she had kept silent now.
"Cadmus went to school," Michael pressed on. "He had good teachers. Decent friends, except for Tolaris, perhaps. And Morella's lovely, isn't she? So no, I don't agree. Cadmus's parents make me grateful for my own. Very grateful. I don't feel sorry for him."
Hope did a double take. Michael's voice was uncharacteristically harsh and cold.
"I didn't know you disliked him so much."
"Well, I do."
She thought back, confused now. She couldn't remember Michael showing dislike or animosity towards anyone. Even he and Elodie had tolerated each other most of the time.
"You never minded him at school, did you?"
There was a tense pause. Michael picked up another batch of cutlery and set the polishing charm to work before responding.
"You know our final solstice visit? Last June?"
"Um. I don't remember much of it," Hope confessed, stomach churning at the memory. "I drank a lot that day. I wasn't in a good place. And I - " she fought down a flush of colour. Michael knew about her pregnancy by now, but she was pretty sure he thought Cadmus had been the father, and with no desire to correct him of this notion, nor to recount the hours spent with Andrew Garswitch in the trees up on Hogsmeade hill, she kept it vague. "I lost everyone for a while. And after that I drank even more. I woke up the next morning fully dressed on my bed. I don't even remember going home."
"I did wonder."
Curiosity flared inside her as Michael appeared uncomfortable.
"Why?"
"I actually walked back to school with you that night."
"You did?"
This was news to Hope. She strained her memory but the later part of the day remained a blank stretch punctuated by the odd blur of sound or colour.
"It was the day Esme and I broke up," he went on. "I wasn't in a party mood, didn't drink anything, and I went back to school before curfew. I ran into you at the end of the village. You didn't seem… great-"
"I was paralytic, you mean."
For once, he didn't return her smile.
"-so I wanted to make sure you got back alright. I walked with you up to school. You asked where Esme was so I told you we'd broken up, and you were - well, you were quite helpful, actually, even though half your words came out in the wrong order." Hope laughed again, but Michael's expression remained serious. "And then we ended up on the subject of you and Cadmus."
Why could she not remember any of this? An apparently important conversation and all she could recall from that day was Andrew Garswitch's wandering hands and the unpleasant taste of firewhisky infused vomit. And what on earth had she said to cause such a serious expression to appear on Michael's normally genial features?
She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
She had to know.
"What did I say?"
"You - um." Michael swallowed. "You told me what he was like. How unkind he was. Some of the things he used to say to you. That he lied to you and that you didn't trust him, and that you were afraid of him. You said-"
He broke off.
"Yes?"
He seemed reluctant to keep talking. Perhaps he was wishing he had kept silent on the subject too.
"Michael, what did I say?"
He didn't look at her as he replied.
"You said you would rather be dead, than back with him."
Hope's whole body tensed at this. Hearing the words out loud confirmed that they were perfectly true, but the knowledge that she had shared such a macabre notion with someone else, with no memory of even having the conscious thought, was deeply disturbing, as if a personal, intimate part of her had been laid bare for the world to see.
"I didn't know what to say," Michael went on. "But I listened, and then we got back to school and you went to your dormitory and I didn't speak to you again for the rest of term. I barely even saw you. I thought for a while you were avoiding me."
"I avoided everyone," Hope muttered. It was difficult to form the syllables. Her lips felt oddly numb. "It wouldn't have been personal. I - I don't even remember that conversation."
"I kind of thought - more recently - that might be the case. I've never liked to bring it up, and maybe I shouldn't have done now. But you asked about Cadmus, and that's why I don't like him." His voice hardened again. "I loathe him, actually, for doing that to you."
The sentiment and loyalty behind his words was so touching that Hope's eyes stung for a moment. But she was in a better place now. A much better place. And despite everything, she did feel a certain amount of pity for Cadmus.
"It wasn't easy," she admitted. "But he didn't have it easy either. He had a difficult childhood. I think he was unhappy at home."
Michael was not to be swayed by this.
"I can well imagine that, but making excuses because of your experiences can only go so far. Harry was forced to live in a cupboard for the first ten years of his life. He's now the best head Auror we've ever had. Your dad was bitten by a werewolf when he was five. My dad's parents were tortured into insanity when he was one. They're both generous, kind people who have spent their lives fighting the dark side. Voldemort didn't have a happy childhood either - does that mean we should excuse all his crimes? There is no excuse for being abusive to someone else, no matter what you go through."
Hope actually laughed out loud at this. "Cadmus wasn't abusive though," she protested. "He wasn't exactly a nice person. He was moody most of the time, and yeah, it wasn't fun, being his girlfriend. But not... that."
Abuse was what she suspected William Bulstrode to be guilty of. Violence, threats and physical pain and trauma. Not a few months of being criticised and pushed around by a confused, angry teenager.
Michael had dropped his gaze again.
"He bullied you," he said quietly. "He was cruel, he was controlling and he lied to you. And I know what noxing is now, even if I didn't back then. That's abuse. Textbook emotional abuse. He treated you so badly that you won't even mention his name anymore."
The spoons in Hope's hands crashed to the floor as she took an involuntary step backwards. Michael's face was overcome with guilt the second he looked up and saw her expression.
"Shit. Hope, I'm sorry, that wasn't my place. To say that. I'm not trying to upset you, or drag up old stuff. I swear. I just-"
He tried to reach out to touch her arm but she shied away.
"Whatever," she said, picking up the cutlery that had clattered to the floor. "Whatever. Let's talk about something else."
The final half hour of work passed in total silence.
O
Hope shut herself away in her bedroom the second she arrived home, grateful that neither of her friends were in.
What did it matter if there was an official definition for Cadmus's behaviour? It didn't change what he had done. It didn't change how she felt about the disastrous relationship. Not did it change the fact that she wanted to forget it and move on with her life. Cadmus was in the past now. She hadn't seen him since school and she planned to avoid him at all costs. Why did it matter if someone else thought that he had been… abusive.
Somehow it mattered. A lot.
O
"I'm sorry about yesterday. I won't mention it again. I'm always here if you do need to talk. Hope we're OK."
Hope had ignored the Wiznote message so far, but she couldn't put off facing him forever. In the end, she decided to act as though the conversation had not occurred and breezed into The Leaky Cauldron next day with a cheery attitude, however false it felt.
"Are we OK?" Michael enquired tentatively, when they hit the post breakfast lull.
"Yes, of course we are."
Nothing felt OK. She couldn't figure out what to say, or how to act. The easy laughter and light hearted chatter had gone and the weekend passed in a horrid blur of confusing thoughts. Both shifts were busy, meaning few awkward silences, and the conversation was able to revolve around bookings, orders and menus. Nevertheless, it was far from enjoyable, and Hope collapsed in her bed on the Sunday evening feeling exhausted, dreading the following day and longing for Tuesday and Wednesday when she would finally have time off.
With her Monday evening shift came the quiz night. Oliver's initiative had taken hold the previous month and Mondays had become their busiest nights of the working week. Up until now Hope had enjoyed the the quizzes, happy to soak up the light-hearted atmosphere and joke around with Matt, James and Neil, who always came along for fun and sat up at the bar so as to let them join in when they could. So far they hadn't come close to winning. Michael, as predicted, had excellent general knowledge, but only heard half the questions in between serving customers.
Tonight, Hope was hating every minute. The questions were difficult and she was feeling more stupid by the second. Round three, Quidditch, had sounded promising, but a big party of rowdy witches had come up to the bar clamouring for cocktails, and James had supplied all the answers by the time she had finished serving them.
Round four was Potions. Hope didn't even bother listening, and the boys seemed to be struggling too.
"Final question before the break," Oliver said. "What concoction is used to wipe negative or unpleasant memories, named after the venom which is its principle component?"
"Essence of Swooping Evil," Michael provided, as he passed by Matt's end of the bar to grab some sickles for change. Matt wrote it down in a resigned sort of fashion.
The rounds continued, through Notable Wizards and Witches, Muggle traditions, a music round which sadly did not comprise any muggle songs, and finally onto Literature.
"Question six. What is a literary term used to denote the attribution of human emotions to non human elements, such as objects, animals or the weather?"
"Hey, I think I know this!" Hope piped up, brightening, remembering something Teddy had said not long ago. "Isn't it like - Phallic Telepathy?"
Even as she said the words out loud she knew that was definitely wrong, and the boys, processing what she had said, all howled with mirth, even Michael.
"Do you mean pathetic fallacy?" he corrected her. His eyes were alight with merriment but Hope tensed at the laughter, her mood crashing ever further.
"Phallic telepathy would be a very different matter," James said. "Wouldn't be for me, personally."
"Might be for Matt," Neil pointed out, and Matt considered this, also chortling.
Cold to the bone, Hope turned and walked away to the other side of the bar under the guise of collecting a couple of stray glasses. What was the point in even trying.
"Hey." Michael had followed her, all amusement now gone. "Hey, we're only messing around - you know that. It's a dumb quiz, we all get stuff wrong."
Except for Michael who knows every stupid, bloody thing.
It had been another long while since the voice in her head had made an appearance and she did not appreciate its input now.
"You know we're not laughing at you, don't you?" he persisted.
It felt like you were.
Learn to take a joke. You're too sensitive. Lighten up. Don't be so pathetic-
"Yes. I know."
She made no contribution to the final three questions, nor to the bonus question at the end, and avoided eye contact with all the boys as Oliver came over and most of the guests made a move towards the door.
"How did you do?" Oliver enquired.
"As usual, our team name might as well be Longbottom and the idiots," Matt sighed. "But it's all for a good cause, right?"
"You Gryffindors," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I did say you needed a Ravenclaw in the mix."
"Hope was a Ravenclaw," James protested.
"So you were." Oliver nodded over at her. "I always forget that."
That's because he can't believe someone as stupid as you could be in Ravenclaw.
Hope tried to hold back the tears. She wouldn't cry here. She couldn't cry here. By some miracle, she made it through to last orders without cracking and the pub emptied soon after. James lingered at the bar as Neil went to the bathroom before heading off. "You OK?" he asked. "You haven't said much tonight."
Didn't exactly have much to contribute.
"Yup. Fine."
She knew he didn't believe her. Her mask was not so easy to preserve these days, and while the rational side of her knew this to be a positive, the irrational side resented that she couldn't summon her cheerful smile as she once had been able to. She turned away and did a sweep to make sure the remaining glasses were sent to the washer. The tears were closer to the surface than ever now, but she didn't want sympathy, nor pity. She just needed to leave. Michael, who had been shooting her worried glances for some time, reappeared from the kitchen and she turned to him abruptly.
"I don't feel well. Can you do the last bits without me?"
He looked quite helpless.
"Sure. But Hope-"
She had already turned and walked towards the fire, grabbing her bag as she passed. It would have to be floo tonight. She didn't trust herself to be determined or deliberate in her current state of mind. As she stepped into the fireplace she saw, from the corner of her blurry vision, that both James and Michael had turned their heads towards her. Clearly they were talking about her.
Probably saying how stupid you are.
Dom was still awake reading a magazine and looked up in surprise to see her coming out of the fireplace.
"Hey! How come you didn't -"
Her question died away at the sight of her friend's face but Hope had already rushed through to her own bedroom. She curled up on her bed and let the tears soak the pillow, while Dot buried herself miserably into her neck. This was why she should never have brought up Cadmus in the first place. This was why she never spoke about him. Now everything was ruined and if she'd only kept her mouth shut-
"Hope?'
Dom tapped softly on the door and came in despite the lack of response, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching out a hand.
"Please talk to me," she said. "Please. You know it will help."
Hope didn't reply immediately. But as Michael knew anyway, maybe it was time for her oldest and dearest friend to know the truth as well. After a long silence she sat up, tried to dry her eyes and told Dom about Cadmus. Everything she could remember. The months of unkindness. The feeling of being driven to the brink of insanity. The noxing and the lies and the painful break up that should have come months sooner. Cadmus's insistence that she wasn't good enough and never would be and that no one else would ever want her. Dom's face was both horrified and harsh as the truth poured out with the tears, then she came closer, holding Hope tightly and saying all the right things. She didn't mention being angry but she didn't need to. Hope could feel the fury radiating through her even as she murmured her sympathy and support. And this was Dom, the 'soft one'.
"Don't tell Roxanne," Hope finished, drawing back and dragging a hand across her eyes. "Please don't. Not yet. I will tell her too, but not now. Not until the Flint situation has calmed down."
"I won't," Dom assured her. "She'd be quite capable of tracking Cadmus down and we don't want her arrested as well, do we?"
Hope shook her head with a loud sniff.
"Hope, I'm happy to talk about this," Dom went on, after a troubled silence. "Whenever you want. But - but I think, maybe, you should speak to your counselor about it too?"
"I've told you everything, though," Hope protested. "Got it off my chest. I feel better already. That's the same."
"No it's not," Dom countered. "Martina is a professional for a reason. When did you last see her?"
"A while ago," Hope admitted. "I stopped going. It wasn't really making a difference."
"I think it might help now," Dom said. "This is serious and it might take you a while to work through it. I think she'd be the best person to go to."
Hope was reluctant. She didn't want to go down that road again, sitting and probing her innermost thoughts and emotions while Martina watched her with her piercing gaze. The past week had proven, however, that no amount of burying could guarantee that the past would stay hidden forever, and as usual, Dom was talking sense.
"I'll contact her tomorrow," Hope said. "Don't know when she'll be able to fit me in. She's very popular."
"I'm sure she'll have some availability," Dom said. "Especially as your work is flexible. You're not even on shift the next two days, are you?"
"No," Hope said, firmly wiping her eyes and letting out a half yawn, half sigh. "Thankfully."
Dom's own eyes widened in some surprise.
"I thought you were enjoying work?"
Hope explained about that too. That Michael had known about Cadmus all along and how it had all come out a few days ago. Dom was looking confused as she finished.
"But why-?"
"Because I feel stupid," Hope burst out before she could even ask. "So, so stupid. I was with Cadmus for a year and a half and it was bad enough that people thought I went to pieces because we broke up, but Michael's known the truth all these months and I didn't even know that he knew because I was too drunk to remember telling him. And - and I must seem so fucking stupid, for staying with Cadmus. After everything he did. And not doing anything about it."
Dom stroked Dot's bright fur with a finger as Hope rubbed furiously at her eyes again.
"Just so I'm clear on something," she said slowly. "When Elodie was bullying me, back at school, and I never spoke up about it, and it only got sorted because other people stood up for me when I didn't know how to stand up for myself, you… thought I was stupid?"
"What?" Hope was so horrified the tears dried up completely. "Of course I didn't. I felt sad for you and I wanted to help you. I just didn't know how to. And I hated Elodie for being such a bitch," she growled. "Still do, in fact. And - and I was relieved it stopped, in the end. That was a completely different situation," she added, seeing Dom's raised eyebrows.
"How was it different?"
"It just was." Hope sat back with her arms folded and Dot blinked up at her, tiny body swivelling between her and Dom.
"Hope, your friends care about you," Dom insisted. "I'm one of those friends and so is Michael. We feel devastated that you were hurt. We wish we had been able to help you at the time, and we will never really forgive the person who hurt you in the first place. How is that not the same as the way you felt about me and Elodie, back at school?"
Hope tried to find a hole to pick in this argument. There didn't seem to be one.
O
Martina had an available appointment on Wednesday evening, but which time Hope had taken a day to process and think about what she wanted to say, what she needed to say, and what she was going to say, none of which, it turned out, were the same thing. It was a difficult hour, during which she shed many more tears, but by the end she knew a certain degree of progress had been attained. Martina didn't say as much, but Hope could tell there had been a breakthrough, and they agreed to reinstate the twice weekly appointments for the foreseeable future.
Eyes sore but head held high, Hope came out of St Mungo's knowing the Dom had been right. Now to the other issue, which she hoped would have a simpler fix.
The pub was quiet as she entered and Michael, looking confused, threw a glance at the calendar as she approached the bar. "Hi! You're not working now, are you?"
"No. Tomorrow. But I just came - I want to say." Hope took a deep breath. "I hate this. This awkwardness between us. I know that's on me and I have a lot to get my head round and I've spent an hour talking to Martina so I don't want to talk about it more. But what you said the other day - it - it did help. Or it will help in the end. So we are OK. Definitely. At least, I hope we are."
For a single, heart-stopping moment she thought Michael was going to tell her they weren't OK at all. Then he smiled, handed her a glass and grabbed her a butterbeer from the cooler.
"There has been so much drama today," he said, with his usual grin, as she poured it out. "You know that guy who booked out the Jobberknoll room, who was planning the big proposal?"
"Yeah?" Hope could already see where this was going.
"She turned him down. In front of all fifty people."
"Oh no!"
"So that was an awkward hour. Then Paul Nightingale was in here at lunch with his ex-wife and she was shouting at him. Never want to judge but she sounds like a piece of work. And then the washer had a fit and started spraying water in all directions."
Hope, drinking the butterbeer, appreciated the instant calming effect of both the amusing stories and the warm liquid hitting her throat. She would work through it, however long it took. Come to terms with the hellish relationship. With the abuse. And maybe, finally, she could then leave it in the past where it belonged.
oOo
June
To her enormous relief, the simple exchange cleared the air between them, and their dynamic was back to normal by the following shift. Summer began to arrive in London, bringing longer, busier days and more customers, but that only caused time to fly even faster.
Dom continued to meet up with Cal on a regular basis, still under the guise of "friends", and Hope gave up asking pointed questions. No doubt Dom would tell her more when she was ready. For her part, it was lovely to have Cal back in her own life, and to see him twice a week at quidditch training. The summer tournament started with Hope as a starting chaser, and Fiendfyre established their place as firm favourites after a convincing win over Hampshire Horklumps in the first round. Even old Joe had now dropped his condescending attitude and often asked for her opinion during training and before matches.
News that Hope might be going to Spain was traveling fast within the family, to much supportive encouragement, but Hope had to keep reminding her friends that she didn't actually have a place at the Carlos Institute yet. James, who had been beside himself with childish excitement on hearing that the school was mere metres away from the Aguilas training ground, was already planning his "visits to see her" all of which, funnily enough, coincided with their important home matches.
"Saw Beth yesterday," he told Hope one Saturday afternoon, when she was at the Potters' to look through some old summer quidditch gear that Ginny had offered to give her. "She's raging about your match."
"She gave it as good as she got," Hope protested, showing him a large purple bruise on her arm, the result of Beth's ferocious and well honed beater skills.
"I don't doubt that," James replied. "But she's definitely regretting telling you not to join the Horklumps. She reckons you'll be snapped up by a professional squad this coming season. I didn't tell her you were going away," he added quickly. "Wasn't sure if you wanted other people to know."
"Might be going away," Hope corrected him. "I don't have a place yet, remember."
"You'll get it," James said, with confidence. "And then it'll be Aguilas snapping you up."
Hope rolled her eyes.
"I doubt it."
"Loads of Aguilas players have been ex Carlos students," James reminded her, unperturbed by her lack of optimism. "Including Laura Zilbeti."
"Yes but Zilbeti had played all over the continent before she even turned of age," Hope pointed out, thinking of the fiery Aguilas captain, who had now lead her team to three successive victories in the Spanish cup and two in the European league. "It's a higher standard out there. If I go to Madrid and if I play quidditch, I'll be sticking to intramural league. Maybe regional if I can but not more than that."
"I'll bet you," James said. "If Aguilas haven't shown any interest in you by this time next year, I'll -" He cast around. "I'll-"
"Yes?" Hope prompted him, intrigued.
"I'll redecorate my room with Wimborne Wasp colours and leave it like that for a month. No. Two months."
"High stakes!" Hope was rather flattered, given that James detested the Wasps and avoided all yellow clothes and furnishings on sheer principle. "What if they have shown an interest?"
"Well in that case, Lupin, you'd better get me discounted tickets to your matches!"
Ginny came back downstairs with her trunk floating behind her as Hope tried to work out whether she stood to gain - or indeed lose - anything from this bet.
"Here you go." She opened it up and handed Hope a pile of soft quidditch tops and a thin grey cloak from the highest layer. "They should fit you and they'll be much more suitable for the warmer months."
"Thanks Ginny. They're great." Hope ran her hands over the cloak, noticing that it was superb quality gear, despite its unworn state. No doubt Ginny had been sent more free offers than she could use, over the years.
"I thought I had leggings in here too," Ginny mused, ferreting through the folds of material. "Lightweight ones, perfect for when it gets really warm - Oh wow." She pulled out a bundle of material from the bottom of the trunk, her face creased with nostalgic glee. "How did that get in here?"
"What is it?" James enquired, leaning over to look. Hope took a glance too. Whatever it was, it was certainly not suitable for quidditch training.
"This." Ginny held it up to show them. Thick folds of velvet burgundy material with copious amounts of lace tumbled down from her pinched fingers. "Is what your uncle Ron wore to the yule ball in his fourth year at Hogwarts."
"It's revolting," James said, staring at the mass of ancient material while Hope could only agree silently.
Harry, working all hours of the week on the Flint case, came out of his office and through to the kitchen for a second slice of cake and stopped short in the doorway when he noticed what his wife was holding.
"Bloody hell," he snorted. "How has that survived the past three decades?"
Ginny held it up higher, nose now wrinkled. A faint mist of grey dust was issuing from the robes.
"It's hideous, isn't it?" she sighed, shaking her head. "What was Mum thinking? She could have at least removed the frilly collar for him. Poor old Ronniekins."
"I'll never forget the look on Padma's face when he came down to meet her," Harry laughed, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "Trailing lace and all."
"Who's Padma?" James demanded.
"Padma Patil," Ginny said. "Goldstein now."
"Omar Goldstein's Mum?"
"Indeed."
"Uncle Ron went to the ball with her? Not Hermione?"
Hope looked up in some interest too, as Harry and Ginny exchanged an amused grimace.
"Ron asked her too late," Ginny said. "Mind you, your dad asked me too late. I had already been snapped up by a certain Mr Longbottom."
Harry began to protest that actually, he had never asked Ginny at all, Ron had simply suggested they go together, but James's face lit up. "You went to the ball with Neville? Why did you pick Dad to marry when you could have been with someone cool like Neville?"
Hope sniggered at Harry's feigned outrage. Most people would no doubt expect James to be in awe of his famous father, hero of the wizarding world and greatest Head Auror the Ministry had ever known. Quite the reverse.
"Who did Dad go with then?" James asked, as eager for adult gossip as he had been at the age of thirteen. 'What about Hermione?"
Ginny consented to explain about Hermione going out with Viktor Krum, much to Ron's displeasure (yes, the former Bulgarian quidditch player, and yes that was the reason he occasionally mentioned a mysterious Vicky) and Harry asking out Cho Chang, his first crush (Harry loudly protested otherwise before retreating to his office), but going with Parvati, Padma's sister, instead. Ginny also told them about Ron asking Fleur, unaware that she would one day be his sister-in-law, and the crushing rejection that had ensued.
"So much teenage drama," she said. "And look at us now."
"What about Uncle George?" James persisted. "Was he at school then?"
His mother did not answer immediately. Her face had fallen.
"He went with Alicia," she murmured, then, preempting James's next question, "Angelina was with Fred at the time." She eyed her son sternly. "But that does not leave this room, James. Do you hear me? You are mature enough to understand why, even if you like to pretend otherwise. Mock Ron for this if you must." She shook the sleeve of the ancient dress robe. "You are not to mention Angelina and Fred, unless Angelina or George bring the subject up themselves."
"OK, OK!" James's expression was now serious. "I get it. I do. And I won't."
Later, when Ginny had retreated upstairs to replace the trunk, James turned to Hope, clearly stunned.
"Did you know that?"
Hope shook her head.
"Do you think that's why they argue so much?" she wondered aloud. "It must be weird. I mean, Fred was his twin. Cofounded the business. There must be reminders of him everywhere." She wondered if Roxanne knew. She was never going to ask her, that was certain, and she knew that James, for all his lack of subtlety, would be as good as his earlier word to Ginny.
"Yeah," James said soberly. "I'm not sure he recovered. Not in the way the rest of the family did. I heard Ron say that once."
They sat in silence for a bit.
"Pity we never had a ball," James observed. "Would have been fun."
"Who would you have invited?"
"No idea."
"Don't tell me - too many girls fawning after you, you'd never have been able to choose?"
"Couldn't have put it better myself," James joked. He thought for a moment. "Nah, probably that girl I dated back in December. I didn't know her true colours back then and she was the prettiest girl in our year."
Hope screwed up her nose, but the insults that had passed to her second hand in December no longer mattered to her. School Hope was firmly in the past now.
"What about you?" James enquired. "If Flint and Towler were out of the picture. And no 'going with a friend' rubbish. You get to pick the best looking boy in the school - who do you go with?"
There was another silence as Hope considered this. She honestly had no idea. She had never fancied anyone at school, apart from Adam. She could still remember seeing him for the first time, noticing his friendly smile and sparkling eyes, and she had spent many, many months after that assuming that he had the personality to match. A false assumption, it transpired. As for Cadmus, there had been strong feelings for him in the beginning, but he wasn't particularly attractive on a physical level. Many had been quick to point that out and such remarks had always made Hope angry, until she had been forced to acknowledge that his personality was a hundred times uglier than his face.
"You don't have to answer." James had noticed her consternation and now seemed worried he had upset her. "I was curious, that's all."
"I can't think of anyone," Hope told him. "Roxanne was always going on about fit guys in her year, and yours, but I never noticed."
Did being a metamorphmagus have something to do with that, she wondered. Did her hatred of being reduced to her appearance affect how she viewed others? She was perfectly capable of recognising objective beauty. Victoire and Fleur were stunning, and the Veela heritage had blessed Louis with a delicate but striking appearance that was apparently drawing in a lot of attention at Beauxbatons now he was older. Dom and Roxanne were beautiful, as were all the Weasleys, in Hope's opinion, but they were family. Maybe she had to think that. James… she could just about understand why so many girls liked him, if she really thought about it, given his engaging smile and natural charisma, his neat haircut and muscular build. Cal Burchess and Mitch Sullivan were both good looking in their way, but as Cal had liked Dom and Mitch Rosie, viewing her former captains as anything other than friends would have been beyond inappropriate.
"What about now?" James persisted, interrupting her thoughts. "Plenty of eligible single men come into that pub. You must have seen someone you fancy by now."
She shook her head again after quite a lot of thought.
"Not at all." Then, "Is that weird?"
"Course not," James said. "Nothing wrong with having high standards."
Hope lapsed into further musings about whether her sentiments related to having standards at all, but James was now eyeing the dress robe that Ginny had left hanging over the back of a chair. "Mum said I could mock Uncle Ron," he said. "If I must. And, regrettable though it is, I think I must. What do you say I wear this to lunch at theirs tomorrow?"
O
Hope had to hand it to James. He knew how to execute a practical joke. She, Teddy and Victoire all wangled themselves an invite to the lunch, knowing what was coming, and made sure to watch Ron's face as James strolled in, face deadpan, greetings ordinary, dressed head to toe in the ancient dress robes.
Ron gaped at his nephew with a mixture of revulsion and disbelief as everyone else around the table collapsed into fits of laughter.
"Hand them over," he said, when he could make himself heard. "Now."
"I can't, Uncle Ron," James said innocently. "I'm not wearing anything underneath."
"You can sit at this table butt naked for all I care. Give me the dress robes."
James refused, and unable to physically force him to strip, Ron had to endure an entire main course spent discussing dress robes stylish and otherwise, cuts old and new, and the pros and cons of lace collars.
Before dessert, however, James relented.
"Here," he said, removing them and handing them to his uncle. He was fully dressed. "You can burn them. I'll never mention them again, I swear."
Ron did exactly as suggested, setting them alight in the garden to cheers and applause, and other than a few sharp words with Ginny ("You knew James had taken them? Heads up would have been nice!") accepted the joke with good grace.
O
"Wish I'd seen that," Michael said, when Hope recounted the story to him in detail. "Mum and Dad have told me about the yule ball before. Sounds like more stress than anything, the pressure to find a partner."
"I don't think I'd have enjoyed it," Hope agreed. "I never knew your dad invited Ginny though. Imagine if things had worked out between them!"
"Well, I wouldn't exist," Michael pointed out. "Nor would James, for that matter."
Hope's face fell slightly at the thought. The idea of life without either of them was painful.
"Guess who Mum's ball partner was?" Michael said, and when Hope looked blank, he added. "I'll give you a clue, he's coming in here to lunch today with his wife - who happens to be Mum's best friend."
"Justin?"
"Yes. Apparently they went as 'friends'." He put air quotes around the words. "But then Dad told me he was actually Mum's first kiss. I would have been fine never knowing that."
Hope mirrored his expression of distaste and agreed. There were some things that children did not need to know about their parents. Her thoughts drifted to her own first kiss with Adam. It had been far from unpleasant, as kisses went - Tim McLaggen's revolting style sprang to mind instantly - but it was weird to be thinking about Adam for the second time in three days.
"You alright?" Michael had noticed her silence.
"I was thinking about Adam," she admitted. "I hardly ever think about him - it's like a different life, going out with him. He was my first kiss though," she clarified. "That's why he popped into my head."
"Makes sense." He looked shifty for a moment before answering the question Hope was on the verge of asking. "Mine was Marion Lennox."
"What?" Hope goggled him. "I didn't know that."
"It wasn't a big deal." He shrugged. "Nothing else ever happened. It was the solstice night in our fifth year - no one had dates so we went as a group, but then Marion and I ended up separated from the others and a bit tipsy from all the butterbeer. There are far worse people to kiss for the first time, I would say."
"True," Hope said, thinking of Tim McLaggen again, then she pulled up short. Part of what Michael had just said struck her as odd.
"Wait. Marion hung out with you at school?" she said. "You mean, all the Gryffindors?"
"Yes," he confirmed, surprised at the question. "She knew Alice from Gobstones and then she and Beth became friendly too. Once you're friends with Beth you might as well be friends with us all. Can't really blame for ditching Elodie and Natalie whenever she could, can you?"
Hope was feeling strange as she shook her head to acknowledge this. She had never even noticed Marion being close with the Gryffindors. What else had she been oblivious too? And what might have been if she had only swallowed her stubborn pride many years ago and reached out to those willing to extend the hand of friendship in return?
No point dwelling, she told herself, as she always did. Life was incomparably better these days.
She was still rather quiet after that, but a welcome distraction came within the hour when Susan Finch-Fletchley arrived with Justin for their lunch booking. Michael caught Hope's eye over the counter and she knew he was thinking about their recent conversation as little Grace came barrelling towards him in an excitable blur.
"Michael!" she squealed. "Michael! Michael! Look at my dress! Look!"
"Hello!" Michael beamed at her as she scrambled up onto a stool. He tapped it with his wand to ensure the safety arms materialised. "It's a lovely dress. And how are you today?"
"I'm a princess," Grace said proudly, preening as she showed off the sparkly satin folds of material, layered with blue lace and finished off with tiny sequins.
"So you are," Michael agreed. "I'd better get you a special princess hot chocolate."
Grace looked appalled. "I can't have hot chocolate!" she said. "I'm an ice princess, like Elsa."
"Who's Elsa?"
She stared at him in disbelief. "Elsa the ice princess."
"Obviously." Michael faked smacking himself on the forehead and Grace giggled. "How silly of me. Iced chocolate milkshake coming up."
Hope passed him a tall glass and sighed as she took in Grace's outfit, which was complete with tiny silver tiara and glittery white shoes.
"How come kids get to wear whatever they want and still be both adorable and appropriate?"
"You know what Hope, you go ahead and wear your sparkly princess dress on your next shift," Michael said drily, blending up the chocolate milk and casting a spell to make the larger ice cubes flash different colours. Grace's eyes shone as he presented it to her. "I'm not one to judge."
"Hmm, the rest of the world might."
It turned out that Elsa was a princess from a musical muggle film Grace had recently watched when visiting her paternal grandparents. Grace refused to sit at the table with Susan and Justin while they were waiting for their lunch and instead stayed up at the bar, regaling Hope and Michael with all the songs she knew from the film in her uneven, high-pitched voice, pausing only to take large gulps of her milkshake.
"And then also in the other film she sings this one: 'And dooo the next right thing'."
"Too cute," Hope murmured.
"Don't be fooled," Michael said. "She's a little devil child when she wants to be." He winced as the notes hit a particularly high screech. "And she may not be destined for an operatic career."
Grace, however, fell silent seconds later, her attention directed towards the doorway. "There's a real princess," she breathed, eyes like saucers.
Michael turned to look, ready to humour her, until he saw who had entered the bar and his jaw dropped as well.
"Luna!"
Hope whirled around and gave a cry of delight. Luna Lovegood was walking towards them, blond hair down to her waist, eyes large and blue as ever, wearing a glorious silk floor length dress and carrying her patchwork handbag bag over her shoulder. It was, as usual, full to bursting. Hermione had offered many times over the years to provide Luna with a neat, extendable bag that was bigger inside than out, for use on her excursions, but Luna always declined with polite gratitude. This way, she insisted, she only took with her what she needed, nothing more.
"Is she your princess, Michael?" Grace persisted, as he rushed towards her and hugged her tightly.
"More like my fairy godmother." Hope laughed as she hugged Luna as well. Luna was very fairy godmother-like, with her ethereal air and beautiful, exotic clothes.
"I didn't know you were visiting," Michael said, as Luna took a seat at the bar. "How long are you back for?"
"Quite a while," Luna said. "I'm hoping to rent a room here for a bit until Rolf gets back. Then we'll be looking for a house to live in."
"A house?" Hope gasped. "You're moving back here? Permanently?"
"Oh no, not permanently," Luna said. "But Rolf thought we should settle for a bit until the baby is older, and I do see what he means."
It took Hope a moment to process what Luna had said.
"The… baby?"
"Yes," Luna said, sounding surprised at her confusion. "Our baby. I'm going to have a baby in January. I have a feeling it's two babies, actually, but Rolf says I won't know until I go for my appointment."
"Luna!" Michael exclaimed, stunned at her offhand tone. "But that's amazing."
"It is, isn't it?" she agreed, sounding as though she were receiving the news for the first time herself. "Please could I have some onion water?"
Hope obliged at once. With the trivial announcement of her pregnancy out of the way, Luna began to fill them in on her and Rolf's recent adventure in Peru, where - it was rumoured - a new colony of crumple horned snorkacks had settled the previous Spring. Grace, fascinated with the story, was extremely disgruntled when Susan came over and informed her daughter that lunch was ready, but Luna promised to tell her all about the beautiful creatures once she had eaten, and so Grace consented to go and sit with her parents. Hope could already picture Luna as a wonderful mother: kind and firm and gentle and eccentric all rolled into one.
Michael was hanging onto every word, still looking delighted at her recent appearance and announcement that she would be in the country for the whole summer. Hope knew he missed her a lot, and unlike her own godparents, Luna and Rolf were not visitable with a simple pinch of floo powder.
"Gutted I won't be here when the baby is born," he said to Hope, while Luna was hunting in her bag for the presents she had brought back for them.
"When are you heading off again?"
"Mid August," he said. "South America first. I do come back through Europe on the way to Asia. So if I time it right I can come visit her and see the baby!"
"Or babies," Hope reminded him. "She seems to think it's twins. And when Luna get's a "feeling", she's often right."
Hannah came downstairs for lunch at this point, shed several excited tears at Luna's news and insisted that she would either stay in their guest bedroom or be given the nicest room they had in The Leaky Cauldron, but that on no account would she be paying for either, before whisking Luna away to consider the options.
Hope sighed with contentment, still processing.
"Luna's having a baby," she said. "It's mental, isn't it? Teddy and Vic have been dropping hints recently, too. Soon we'll have loads of little nieces and nephews running around everywhere. It's so exciting."
"Exciting," Michael agreed. "And hard work." He indicated Grace. Tiredness and excitement were catching up with her all in one, and she was now sobbing because she had dropped her princess tiara in her plate of mashed potato.
O
The following day, Beth herself came buzzing in, leant right over the bar and fixed Michael with an indignant stare.
"You haven't replied to my Wiznote."
He was jotting down a comment in the reservation book and didn't even look up.
"I've been working all day, Beth. It's what some of us do with our time."
Beth ignored this jibe.
"What are you doing Saturday after next? Fifteenth?"
"Working." He grinned over at Hope. "Again, it's how most of us afford to live, dress ourselves, have fun... that kind of stuff?"
"Whatever. Clear your diary, get someone to cover you. I don't care how but make sure you're free. Because my parents have finally said I can have a summer party. At our house. All day and all night. While they're away for the weekend."
This announcement was enough to get Michael to shut the book and give Beth his full attention.
"Seriously? How did you get them to agree to that?"
"By telling them I'd invite fifteen people."
"When you'll actually have…"
"Not sure." Beth did not seem bothered by such trivial details. "Sixty odd. Maybe seventy. Invited all our group. Obviously. Some plus ones. Then there's the old quidditch team, and the Horklumps. James is bringing his mates. Hope - you'll come, won't you?"
"Oh." Hope had been making herself busy in the background, fully expecting to be asked if she would be happy to cover Michael's shift on the night of the party. "Um-"
"You should, it'll be great," Beth said. She had already turned back to Michael. "I think most people can make it, too! Ellie tried to make excuses, but I told her not to be lame. Es had to swap shifts but she's free now too - That's OK, isn't it?"
"Course. We're still friends, you know that."
"And Swash will be late but she's coming after work."
At this, Michael groaned loudly.
"You invited Swash?"
Beth glared at him severely.
"I wasn't going to leave her out, was I? I've invited all the other Gryffindors in our year and most of the year above. She really isn't as bad as you remember."
"Who's Swash?" Hope asked.
"You know." Michael turned to her. "Annabella Swash. Tall. Long hair. Kind of obnoxious. Always wears huge dangly earrings. You'd have had NEWT Herbology and Charms with her."
"Er. Maybe." This did sound familiar, but Hope had only ever known the girl in question as Bella and had little interaction with her. Michael was still looking thoroughly disgruntled.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Surely you remember how annoying she is?"
"No," Hope admitted. "I had my hands full with Elodie Carmichael at school, didn't I?"
"She definitely won't be coming!" Beth put in vehemently. "Little snake."
Hope grinned at this, but Michael was still grumbling about Annabella. "She is. Always has to be the centre of attention. Doesn't care about anyone but herself. She was vile to Esme -"
"You know, I think it's the only way you get on Michael's bad side," Beth said, regarding her friend with considerable affection then turning to Hope. "He'll put up with pretty much anything. Upset his girlfriend and he'll never forgive you."
For a reason she couldn't explain, Hope felt a sudden surge of warmth in her neck, their conversation about Cadmus fresh in her mind. Michael, however, looked outraged.
"It's not because she was my girlfriend," he retorted to Beth. "I'd feel the same way if Swash had upset you."
"I'd like to see her try," Beth snorted. "Oh come on Michael, you'll still come, won't you? Swash won't even be there until late, she's overloaded at work and getting The Sunday Prophet to press is their biggest job of the week."
"Hmm, no doubt she'll arrive full of gossip and name drops and no one will get a word in edgeways for the rest of the night," Michael muttered, but he softened as Beth continued to glare at him.
"You know I'll be there," he said. "Mum won't mind covering the bar for a night. I'll see if she can spare us some drinks too."
"You're an angel," Beth declared. "Right, I'm going shopping but I'll stop in for a drink on my way back."
Michael shook his head as he watched her breeze back out the door. "Different bloody planet," he said, but Hope had witnessed enough interactions between him and Beth by now to know that his disdain wasn't serious.
"Is she not even looking for a job?" she enquired.
"Oh, she applies for one every month or so if she feels like it. Her parents are loaded and give her all the money she needs, so she's not in much of a rush!"
"Don't get me wrong," Michael added hastily. "I know our families are far from poor. But there's well off and well off, you know?"
Hope nodded her agreement, remembering the immaculate furnishing and elf served dinners which lay within the cold stone walls of the Flints' mansion.
"What's her parents' house like?"
"It is amazing," Michael conceded, looking animated. "A muggle one obviously, down in Hampshire. They've got a swimming pool, games room, tennis court - that's the sport with the rackets," he added, in the face of Hope's blank look. "And acres of land. Beth's been begging them to let her have a house party since she was fifteen. It'll be insane, you should definitely come along."
Hope was pleasantly surprised to find that the idea of busy party filled her with excitement rather than dread, perhaps a sign that she was finally healing properly. Despite this, she still felt awkward about accepting the invite.
"Beth only asked me to be polite," she said. "Because I was here when you were talking about it. She didn't really want to invite me."
"Beth doesn't do anything just to be polite," Michael countered. "If she didn't want to invite you she wouldn't have done." When Hope remained unconvinced by this, he added softly, "People do like you, Hope. I wish you'd stop thinking they don't."
With no suitable reply to this, Hope decided to accept both the invitation and the kind words on face value, and when Beth passed back through later and stopped for a drink as promised, assured her that she would love to come along the following Saturday.
O
The party was indeed a lot of fun, a day full of games, food, drink, lounging around in the sun and yet more food and drink. Marion Lennox, the only other Ravenclaw to have made the cut in Beth's extensive guest list, arrived mid afternoon, and while Hope wasn't surprised, after her conversation with Michael the previous week, she was touched by Marion's enthusiastic greeting on seeing her, and so they embarked on a long catch up about the events of the past year. Unwilling to divulge some of the more unpleasant details of her own life, Hope kept it brief and listened mainly to Marion's account of her job up in Manchester as a correspondant for Transfiguration Today.
"Are you still in contact with anyone from Ravenclaw?" Hope asked.
Marion shrugged. "I see Remi occasionally and I know he meets up with Alec and Andrew. I lost touch with Elodie and Natalie."
"Me too," Hope joked. "Shocking, I know."
Marion did laugh in return, but she looked a bit uncomfortable.
"Look I'm sorry," she blurted out. "For all the crap that happened. With you. And with Dom. I felt so awkward for years, and it seems stupid looking back, but Elodie was -"
"A scheming cow who would have turned on you if you'd even smiled at me." Hope nodded. "I know. Don't worry. I didn't handle stuff well either. It was … a bad time and I made mistakes. I'd do it all differently if i could go back, but I never would. I'd be happy never setting foot in Hogwarts again."
"I feel the same," Marion agreed. "I'm glad I went to Hogwarts in the end, but I used to wonder if my life wouldn't have been easier if I'd never found out I was a witch. If I'd gone to muggle school with all my primary friends."
From this, Hope surmised that Marion had not found Hogwarts any easier than she had. Had she been unhappy too, for years, feeling like a misfit, like she was the only one in her situation? It was possible, likely even. Marion didn't, however, go into details and Hope was in no mindset to probe.
"On the plus side," Marion added. "If I had gone to muggle school, I wouldn't be able to do this."
She replenished her drink with a tap of the wand, and Hope did the same. She leant back in her chair and observed her surroundings, feeling content. Some of Beth's quidditch teammates were attempting to figure out the game of tennis, with limited success. James and Neil were in the swimming pool, shamelessly showing off and challenging each other to ludicrously complicated flips and dives in front of a group of bikini clad girls. The other guests were milling around eating food or sunbathing on the manicured lawn. For all Michael's joking derision about Beth not bothering to find a job, Hope wasn't sure she could blame her. If her parents owned a house like this she would be happy to spend every minute of her days here too.
Beth and Michael were currently playing a game with some other former Gryffindors, an energetic one involving several quaffle sized balls, and Hope watched them curiously, trying to figure out the rules.
"It's called dodgeball," Marion provided, noticing her interest. "We used to play it at primary school. I hated it. You'd be good at it, I would think, as a chaser. It basically revolves around catching, aiming and dodging."
Right on cue, a misaimed throw sent one of the balls shooting over in their direction. It bounced several times before rolling towards Hope, and she picked it up and inspected it with interest. Blue and yellow, it was the same size as a quaffle but considerably lighter, and felt oddly spongey to touch.
"How's it going?" Marion enquired, as Lewis Warrington came over to retrieve it, cheeks very pink and a sheen of sweat visible above his eyebrows.
"Beth's killing us," he groaned. His face brightened when he saw Hope examining the ball. "Want to play?"
Marion declined at once, opting for the swimming pool instead, so Hope, intrigued, followed Lewis over to the flat patch of lawn where the dodgeball was taking place.
"New recruit," Lewis announced to the rest of his team. Esme and Eoin turned and made noises of jubilation on seeing who he had brought over, and Karl Jang, with whom Hope had barely exchanged two words before, held his hand towards her, inciting an exuberant high five.
"Yes!" He exclaimed. "Way to level the playing field!"
Beth, however, folded her arms over her chest.
"That's not fair."
"I think you'll find it is," Lewis retorted. "You have an extra player already."
"Michael hardly counts as an extra player."
"Rude," Michael said mildly. "I knocked Eoin out earlier."
"Yes but you were aiming for Karl," Beth scoffed, eyes still on Hope. She appeared to be doing some serious thinking.
"We should start again," she announced. "We can re-pick the teams and reset the score."
"And I assume you'll be picking first in this new 'fair' scenario?" Lewis asked smoothly. "Nice try," he added, as Beth made no move to deny this.
"We can flip a coin then, to see who picks first."
"Can't we just play?" Alice Johns flopped down on the grass and reached for her drink, sounding bored. "Who cares about the stupid teams? It's supposed to be fun."
This input was ignored.
"Or," Lewis said, "we can play as we are and see if we can make a comeback now the teams are even."
Beth was visibly dissatisfied with this suggestion. Hope, who had heard stories from both James and Michael about her over competitive nature, could only assume that losing now, when she had gained such an impressive lead, would be a greater humiliation in her mind than losing from the off.
"I'll give you two players," she offered. "We'll start again and it can be four against six. You can pick whoever you want, but I get Hope in return."
"You do know she's not a chocolate frog card, don't you Beth?" Michael cut in. He had sat down next to Alice, amused but apparently no more bothered by the team split than she was. Everyone else watched as the stakes were raised.
Lewis took a minute to appraise the five members of Beth's team, before eyeing Hope, who tried her best to look modest. It wasn't easy to appear nonchalant when you were considered to hold such worth in a friendly game of sport. She was also embarrassed. A dodgeball was not a quaffle. All this hype and she'd probably be crap at the new game. Lewis then turned to Karl, now torn.
"We are six rounds down," he murmured. "And we'd have two extra players. That's basically three if we don't have Longbottom."
"Which also means there is no excuse for losing and no glory in winning," Karl pointed out. "Especially if we don't have Longbottom."
"Apparently I'm deaf now," Michael said cheerfully to Alice. She gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm, offering him a sip of her drink, and he choked slightly on tasting it.
"What is that?"
"The punch from inside. I don't know what's in it but it tastes quite strong."
"It is strong," Beth told her. "I made it myself. Michael, please save it until afterwards. You're not going to be much help to the team if you're drunk."
"Yes, because you're such a useful asset when you're sober," Esme chipped in, dark eyes sparkling as her comment was met with gleeful laughs. Hope looked curiously between her and Michael, wondering if there was any veiled resentment behind the jibe. It didn't appear so. Far from looking offended, there was unmistakable fondness in his gaze as he grinned back at his former girlfriend, all the while ignoring Beth and taking another swig of Alice's drink.
Hope hovered on the edge, feeling an unexpected swell of sadness. Amused as she was by their good natured teasing, not to mention flattered by their obvious admiration of her athletic ability, it was yet another reminder of the friendships she had failed to make at school. She may be welcome at the party, even glad she had come, but somehow she knew she was never going to truly belong within a group so long acquainted, who bounced off each other's humour with such practiced ease.
Beth, whose thoughts had not left the dodgeball game, turned to Lewis. "Well?"
"No deal," he concluded. "We stay as we are and we play on." He squared up to face her. "Unless you're scared of losing? To a team with Hope Lupin in it? For the second time in two weeks?"
This simple taunt was enough to set Beth's resolve and, jaw clenched, she immediately agreed to continue playing. Lewis winked at Hope, and he and Eoin filled her in on the rules of the game. Karl, almost as competitive as Beth, it turned out, wanted her opinion on who to aim for first and Esme slipped an arm round her waist and gave her a quick hug, saying how lovely it was to see her again.
A different emotion blossomed inside Hope's chest as Beth set up the balls and they prepared to restart the game. Maybe she did belong, in her own way.
O
An hour later, it was safe to say that in a game in which chasing skills were of vital importance, Hope was able to come out on top, and aided by her superb aim and swift reflexes - not to mention the strength and fitness brought on by Roxanne's recently implemented training regime - Lewis's gamble had paid off and they had stolen the match by ten rounds to nine. Beth did grudgingly shake Hope's hand, while making a point of ignoring Lewis's. Hope had wondered if she was going to demand a rematch, but the smells issuing from the barbecue outside the house were too tempting to ignore for long.
James had taken charge of the food and was loading copious amounts of meat onto the grill while talking to a girl Hope had never met before but knew from an earlier conversation to be called Ellie. James took one look at Beth's face as she and Hope arrived at the table next to him and smirked.
"Who won?" he enquired. "I can't tell!"
Ellie bit back a grin, but Beth scowled. "It doesn't count as losing when the opponent in question is on the way to becoming a professional chaser."
Still embarrassed, Hope did allow herself a fleeting bound of indulgent hope that this could become reality. Playing professional quidditch had been a long lost dream for over a year, but maybe it wasn't so impossible now she was back in a regular routine. If she were able to spend another year practicing to a high standard out in Spain, who knew what possibilities awaited her on returning home.
"If you say so," James said with a yawn. He indicated the spread in front of him. "Do you think this is enough food?" Hope snorted with laughter - the amount of meat and salad would have comfortably served two of the Hogwarts tables during an average sized feast - but Beth looked serious.
"Not sure," she said. "Some people are coming later - the rest of the Horklumps, and Swash might bring a friend or two. I'd put another load on."
At this, Ellie cast a nervous glance round the garden. "How many will be here?" she said. "This is already way more than you said. Mum and Dad will be furious if they find out."
"They won't find out," Beth told her, and Hope, realising she must in fact be Beth's sister, regarded Ellie with interest. She couldn't remember her from Hogwarts and she would not have guessed the two were related by looking at them. Ellie was shorter and built far less athletically, with rounder, dimpled cheeks and dark blond hair. Her blue eyes, wider than her sister's hazel ones, were still furrowed with apprehension.
"They aren't back until Tuesday,' Beth reminded her. "And who cares if they find out? It'll be over by then."
"I care. Because I'll get the blame too."
"No you won't," Beth said. "And they won't have a clue about any of it. So chill out, it'll be fine."
Ellie looked anything but chilled out.
"I know you were never going to keep it to fifteen, but this is a bit much. At least make sure the party ends before everyone gets too drunk, won't you?"
"Stop acting so boring, Ellie," Beth commanded, taking the barbecue tongs from James and prodding some chicken thighs to test them. "Or other people will think you're boring too."
Her sister turned on her heel at once and stalked towards the house. Hope thought she caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes, and James had apparently noticed this too, for he rounded on Beth the second she was out of earshot.
"Beth."
"What? I didn't say she was boring!" Beth protested.
"It came across that way. And now she's upset."
"She's not upset." Beth waved an impatient hand. "She'll know I didn't mean it like that. I love her more than anything and she knows that too."
"Are you sure she knows that?" Hope could tell from James's quiet, serious tone that he was recalling years of miscommunication and resentment between himself and Albus, during which he had maintained the confident assumption that Albus knew he was "messing around" or "having a laugh". Fortunately, the two brothers' relationship had improved ten fold since Christmas, but it seemed James was unlikely to forget his lesson in a hurry.
Deciding this was not a conversation that required her input, Hope grabbed herself a plate of food and went to sit with the rest of the dodgeball group. Alice was now onto her fourth glass of Beth's lethal alcohol mix and the effects were beginning to show. She wasn't the only one either; there had been a distinct upturn in noise level in the past ten minutes alone, and Hope began to feel the old demons creeping in. For all her earlier enjoyment and conviction that large gatherings were no longer an issue, the commotion and groups of surrounding strangers were beginning to overwhelm her.
The evening wore on, bringing with it more guests, more noise and also rain showers, meaning that everyone clustered inside the kitchen to avoid getting soaked. Hope, swept inside with the tide and with the old waves of claustrophobia now crashing in with force, thought that Ellie had made a good point. There was definitely such a thing as too many party guests, particularly when there was alcohol involved.
She escaped to the toilet for a few minutes, but even in a house with this many bathrooms, they were all in high demand when a Beth level house party was taking place, and she soon had to vacate to prevent Alice from being sick all over the hall.
A bulky man Hope recognised as a Horklump teammate leered down at her and made a crude comment as she walked past him, and Hope shoved his hand away from her shoulder before darting back into the kitchen. This was no longer fun. She should have left after the barbecue.
Come on, Hope told herself sternly, trying to breath deeply and wiping her sweaty palms on her t-shirt. You can't panic here. You're over this. This is a bunch of friendly people, and you know them.
Yet she could only see strangers surrounding her. She did spot Michael over in the corner, but he was engrossed in conversation with Esme. It looked to be a serious discussion and Hope had a feeling they might not want to be disturbed. Her eyes continued to roam the kitchen until, with relief, she noticed James standing on his own by the counter, concocting himself a drink from the bottles littered across the worktop.
"Hey!" He looked up as she pushed her way towards him. "Alright?"
Hope confirmed that she was fine, knowing that her expression and the yellowish tinge to her hair may tell a different story. James eyed her with understanding but made no comment.
"Here. Have a drink."
She shook her head but took it from him anyway with an unsteady hand. Come on. Focus. It was a simple house party. She needed to find something she could hear - that wasn't hard - Something she could see…
She looked out of the enormous sliding windows towards the lawn. A handful of guests were milling around outside despite the rain.
"Is this where you did your beater sessions?"
"Now do you see why I complained so much!" James said. "When I said laps of the garden, it's more like laps of a bloomin' field. Not sure why I put up with it."
As he said this a small smile played on his mouth and his eyes strayed towards Ellie, who had now recovered from her spat with Beth and was getting Alice a glass of water while talking to her consolingly. Hope opened her mouth to probe, but there came an interruption before she could ask.
"Hel-lo everyone."
The exclamation was so loud it dampened a lot of chatter and she turned to see that Bella Swash had breezed in. If Beth and Michael hadn't been talking about her days ago, Hope wouldn't even have recognised her from school. Her hair was in rich blond curls, her face heavily made up and she was wearing seven inch heels and a tight turquoise dress covered in tassels that covered the bare minimum of carefully tanned flesh.
"Urgh." James pulled a face and took a large gulp of his own drink. "I was hoping she'd forget to come."
"You don't like her either?" Hope enquired, as Annabella came forward to greet Beth with exaggerated affection and forced a huge bottle of fizz into her arms.
"No. She is so annoying. Eoin fancied her at school though. All we heard for two years was Bella this, Bella that. Actually, check it out. I think he's eyeing her up right now."
Hope glanced in the direction he was indicating. Sure enough, Eoin was staring over at Annabella, ignoring the conversation of the two people standing next to him.
"He's not her type," James said. "She's more into six-foot-four chiseled supermodels. Doesn't really go for little ginger leprechauns like him."
"James!" But Hope was giggling, already feeling calmer.
Swash turned away from Beth and addressed the room at large.
"You won't believe the news I have," she said. "Will be hot off the press first thing in the morning."
"Aren't you supposed to keep quiet about the news until the papers are released?" Michael chipped in from his corner.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Always the killjoy, Longbottom. Even you'll want to hear this."
She looked around and puffed her chest out impressively.
"It's about Flint. I know why he was arrested."
Ice cold pierced Hope's insides. James, at her elbow, had stiffened too.
"Why?" someone asked eagerly.
Annabella let a dramatic pause go by before answering, no doubt wanting to draw in as big an audience as possible.
"Because he framed an innocent man and let him take the fall for The Surge!"
More shocked gasps and excited chatter broke out at this.
"What? How? Who did he frame?"
Guests clustered around Annabella instantly, begging her for more information. Hope, in contrast, had darted for the open doors and out into the rain. She leant against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to find something she could taste - the mint and lime concoction James had given her. Then something she could smell - the remnants of barbecue smoke mingled with the damp, earthy scent of raindrops on a summer's day.
"Hope?"
James had followed her outside. He put a nervous hand on her arm and she did not pull away, letting it steady her. Something she could feel always helped the most.
"Sorry," she said, as her breathing steadied. "I'm a bit... I mean, I don't know if what she said is true, but it's likely if she works for the Prophet. And - and it must be linked to what we found out. It must be. And - and if we'd never. If I'd never - I never actually thought it would amount to... you know?"
"I know." James seemed to understand the meaning behind her half finished sentences. "I know it's a lot to take in. But if you helped uncover the truth that can only be for the good. Truth is best in the end, isn't it?"
"Maybe."
She stared out into the rain, unconvinced.
"Why don't you come back inside?" James suggested. "We can hang out in the games room so we don't have to listen to Swash droning on and on."
Hope had never felt less like partying now.
"I think I'll call it a night. Might go and see Mum," she said. "She'll know what really happened. I don't feel like being here right now."
"Fair." James still looked worried. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Course not. You stay, I know you're having fun. Tell Beth sorry I left without saying goodbye. Michael too. If you see him."
"No problem. But if you do want to hang out, later or anything? Let me know."
Hope barely heard him. She was already making her way up the path, more relieved than ever that she had passed her apparition test.
O
Tonks was home when Hope arrived, still in her work robes and clearly not long returned from the Ministry. She was deep in serious conversation with Remus but they both turned as Hope came crashing in.
"Is it true Flint framed another man for The Surge?" Hope demanded, without even bothering to say hello. "Was it William Bulstrode? Did he have anything to do with it in the end?"
Tonks, startled at the sudden onslaught, removed her robe with a sweep of her wand and came forwards to greet her daughter.
"Hope, Hope, slow down. Flint framed a man for The Surge? Where did you hear that?"
"I was at a party tonight. One of the girls knew about it because she works for The Prophet. Is it true?"
"I -" Tonks ran a hand through her short hair. It was jet black today. "I suppose, yes, in short, he did. But that is oversimplifying to the extreme."
"So what did happen?" Hope persisted. "Are you allowed to say now?"
Tonks did not answer immediately. She and Remus exchanged an apprehensive glance which held silent communication Hope could not decipher.
"Listen, my love," she said at last. "It's not that I want to keep this from you. I'm about to tell your dad anyway, and you helped uncover the truth, so of course you deserve to hear it. But are you sure you want to know the details? I should warn you that some of it is very unpleasant - all of it, really, given that it concerns people you know, and - well -" she hesitated, trying to find the right words. "We sometimes wonder if we've told you too much, over the years. That maybe all that information hasn't helped how you've been feeling, more recently."
Hope considered these words for a long moment. The truth was no doubt going to be overwhelming. On the other hand, the idea of not knowing, of having to speculate, or of people like Annabella Swash delighting in gossip and rumour while telling her an exaggerated version of the story third hand, was unthinkable.
"I have to know," she said. "I have to know what really happened. Please tell me."
Her mother accepted this without protest.
"Give me five minutes to change," she said. "And I'll tell you everything I can."
OOO