Summary: Humans… Ya can’t live with ‘em, ya cant live without ‘em. Well, actually -- we could. We owls are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. It’s the humans who need us. My name is Hedwig, or at least that’s what my so called ‘owner’, Harry Potter calls me.
Everybody thinks he’s so special. I think it’s something to do with surviving death when he was a baby. I only hear snatches of conversation about it. He talks to me sometimes. Oh yes, he tells me just about everything. It can be dull, but over emotional and hormonally challenged youth often find comfort in confiding their every trouble and sorrow in their beloved pets. Poor Harry. He’s so miserable, it’s really quite pathetic, but I can’t help but love the guy.
This is his story, from a different point of view.
It's in! Please read and review chapter 11!
Categories: Harry/Hermione Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 11
Completed: Yes
Word count: 16275
Read: 37039
Published: 07/04/05
Updated: 11/23/05
1. Chapter One: Prologue and a Bit by Waddiwasi chik
2. Chapter Two: Results and Blood by Waddiwasi chik
3. Chapter 3: The Three-Way Will by Waddiwasi chik
4. Chapter Four: The Black-Haired Weasley by Waddiwasi chik
5. Chapter Five: Dark Secrets and Diagon Alley by Waddiwasi chik
6. Chapter Six: Spiked Butterbeer by Waddiwasi chik
7. Chapter Seven: Snogging And Would-Be Scrubbing by Waddiwasi chik
8. Chapter Eight: The Wizard Wheezes of Weasleys and Whittingheimer by Waddiwasi chik
9. Chapter Nine: Stranded by Waddiwasi chik
10. Chapter Ten: Scheming, Skirmishing, and Settling Down by Waddiwasi chik
11. Chapter Eleven: Loose Ends by Waddiwasi chik
Chapter One: Prologue and a Bit by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter One: Prologue and a Bit
Humans… Ya can’t live with ‘em, ya cant live without ‘em. Well, actually -- we could. We owls are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. It’s the humans who need us. My name is Hedwig, or at least that’s what my so called ‘owner’, Harry Potter calls me.
Everybody thinks he’s so special. I think it’s something to do with surviving death when he was a baby. I only hear snatches of conversation about it. He talks to me sometimes. Oh yes, he tells me just about everything. It can be dull, but over emotional and hormonally challenged youth often find comfort in confiding their every trouble and sorrow in their beloved pets. Poor Harry. He’s so miserable, it’s really quite pathetic, but I can’t help but love the guy.
This is his story, from a different point of view.
I was brought to him by a giant (a half-giant, I’m told) when he was just eleven, and I’ve been his beloved owl ever since. He’ll bring me letters to deliver, confident that I’m the one who will get them to the proper place.
For the first few years, I didn’t have much to do. I spent the first year occasionally delivering a short note to or from Hagrid. I then went through the summer locked up in my cage for the majority of the time. Then we took a trip to the Weasleys’. The Weasleys are the family of Harry’s friend, Ron. Another year at that school, Hogwarts, and then back to his relatives. But then he met Sirius Black, convicted murderer, and his Godfather. He still had to stay with the “Muggles”, as he calls them, but then I had something to do. I watched him write letters to his Godfather. He -- well actually, all humans -- don’t have any idea we can read. I’d sit on his shoulder and watch him as he scratched out letters to the only father figure he had ever known. Another year passed the same way.
But this last summer was different. No letters to the Godfather. The only letters I delivered were to headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Short letters, mind you. Usually something like:
Moody,
I’m fine.
Harry
He -- Harry -- told me all about how Sirius died. Not that he needed to, I got enough of an idea when he slept. He cried out constantly, blaming himself for the death of a man who he known only for a few years.
But I’d seen the man when Harry wasn’t around. Sirius didn’t pretend to be happy and content when his godson was at the Muggles’. No, he moped about, feeling sorry for himself, wishing and hoping against fate that he’d be allowed to help with something that would make his life worth living. Even Sirius, a full grown wizard, began to confide in me when I delivered letters back and forth.
Now, that man is gone. Not by a blunder of Harry’s, though it would have taken a miracle to convince Harry of that at the time, but because and adventurous man cannot be locked up like a “ erm -- locked up thing. His friends, Ron, and Hermione Granger, sent letters of comfort and good news whenever they could. Eventually, after being transported to headquarters and having countless talks with Dumbledore (headmaster of Hogwarts) and his friends, he finally accepted the fact that his godfather’s death was not his fault, and that he mustn’t just give up and be miserable. The following story is what I witnessed as he slowly but surely regained his ability to believe, to hope, and most of all, to love.
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I watched from my perch as a 16 year old Harry Potter crawled sleepily from his bed clothes at 12 Grimmauld Place. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, rubbing his eyes groggily and putting on his round spectacles.
“Hey, Hedwig,” Harry said drowsily. He yawned widely and stretched. He changed his clothes; a thing I will never understand about humans. They’re completely obsessed with hygiene! Owls may molt once a year, but humans shed their clothes (which are insufficient for proper covering/heating) twice a day! And they are constantly scrubbing the poor excuse for skin (all pink and soft) raw. It really makes absolutely no sense. But humans will be humans… Anyway, back to the story.
“Good morning, Harry” I said, although he only heard a ‘hoot’. He smiled and held out his arm, which I flew to rest on as he made his way to eat breakfast. He walked down the stairs, stroking my feathers. We entered the kitchen to find his friend Ron’s mother cooking breakfast at the stove.
“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. I took off from his arm lightly and sat on the windowsill to appreciate a few moments of calm before Pig came.
“Good morning, Harry dear,” she said, turning to give him a hug. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Sure,” said Harry. He sat at the table, and Mrs. Weasley set a plate, overloaded with eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast in front of him. He began to eat, and shortly Ron shuffled into the kitchen, tousle haired, and stretching his back.
Mrs. Weasley greeted her half asleep son with a hug and a plate overloaded with breakfast. The rest of the Weasley boys came in, (the ones at Grimmauld Place, anyway) and were soon situated around the table. The smell of the cooked breakfast was getting unbearable, so I flew over to Harry. He smiled at me.
“Hungry, Hedwig?” he asked. He picked up a piece of bacon, and held it up for me.
“Thank you,” I hooted. I flew back over to the windowsill, and happily chewed my bacon to bits. Meanwhile, the youngest of the Weasleys, the only girl, Ginny, came in. She was accompanied by Harry’s other best friend, Hermione. They sat down, and Mrs. Weasley once more set overflowing plates on the table, then sat down to enjoy some breakfast herself. Mr. Weasley set down his fork, (another thing I will never understand about humans: eating utensils. Why use pieces of metal to cut up food? Isn’t that what teeth, or in my case, beaks are for?) and addressed the table.
“We -- Molly and I -- have discussed it with Dumbledore-“
His wife cleared her throat.
“I mean -- Professor Dumbledore, and he has agreed to let us ask Harry if we can adopt him.”
A momentary silence met these words, until there was a unanimous outburst of --
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A/N: Muah ha ha, my first cliff hanger of my first chapter of my first fanfic! Ok, so the cliffie’s not that great. Ah well, ho hum pigs bum. Hope you like it so far. If you love Harry Potter you will review. If you think I’m really sad and should go to the grocery store and get a life, you should review. As my wonderful friend Sarah would say: ‘Cheerio! Ta ta and Bob’s your uncle! Top of the muffin to you!’ And as we both say (in one way or another): “The top of the muffin is the best part of the muffin, so we are being very generous giving it to you!”
Chapter Two: Results and Blood by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I simply have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter Two: Results and Blood
A momentary silence met these words, until there was a unanimous outburst of joy.
“We could be brothers!” exclaimed Ron.
“Excellent!” said Fred or George. (How should I be able to tell them apart?)
“Bloody brilliant!” said George or Fred. (Again, they’re identical)
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!” squealed Hermione.
“Wicked!” said Ginny.
“Really?” said Harry, in a tone of complete amazement.
“Yes,” said the smiling Mr. Weasley. “You don’t have to answer now. We’ll give you time to think about it.”
“Ok,” said Harry. He was obviously still in shock. I myself didn’t mind moving to the Weasleys’. They’ve got three other owls to keep me company. For one, Errol, a battered old fart sack who is always happy to give his account of ‘the good ol’ days’. Second, Hermes, (Percy moved back in with his family after apologizing profusely to his parents) a handsome owl, flirtatious, and bit stuck up. And of course, Pigwidgeon, oh heaven spare me.
I watched as the Weasleys all departed from the kitchen, leaving Harry to contemplate the decision before him. Harry was obviously captured in astonishment; something that isn’t very interesting to watch, so I went to go and see what the rest of the house thought about it.
I flew through the house in search of an open door, and found one, containing two girls. I flew to sit on one of the bedposts.
“I do hope he says yes,” said Ginny nervously.
“So do I,” said Hermione as a small smile played across her lips.
“Yes, of course,” smirked Ginny. “You’d just love it if he was my brother, wouldn’t you. Have a clear field, you would, eh?
“What?” shrieked Hermione, blushing furiously.
“Yeah, sure, like you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about,” said Ginny. She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, because I stopped fancying him ages ago.”
“I just want him to have a proper family, that’s all!” said Hermione, still quite red.
“Of course,” said Ginny innocently. “And the fact that you think he’s handsome and brave and would do anything for you means absolutely nothing, I suppose?”
Hermione resembled a very ripe tomato. I wonder if humans keep some sort of red stuff in their face -- like under their skin -- so that every time they feel the slightest bit embarrassed, they turn as red as the setting sun? Anyway, I had better things to do than to listen to hormonally challenged teenagers tease each other.
I took off from the bedpost and went to find a place where there would be more intelligent conversation. I heard two identical voices coming from a door that was just open enough for me to swoop through. Fred and George were talking together -- about a new invention of some kind. Intelligent conversation? I think not.
I flew around for a bit more, and found Ron -- talking to Pig. I made to swoop out again, but as expected, Pig’s shrill voice (or hoot, rather) called out to me.
“Hey, Hedwig! Over here! Guess what? You and Harry get to come live at The Burrow! We can spend all day together!”
I had this odd sort of sinking feeling, until I felt the need to be ill. I coughed up a good sized pellet, at which Ron scrunched up his nose. All day, all night, with nothing but the sound of Pig’s voice (hoot) echoing through my head. I wished with all my might that I was back in that tree, that very violent tree that tried to kill me once. A ‘Whomping Willow’, I think they called it.
“Eurgh, Hedwig, that’s disgusting,” said Ron, kicking the regurgitated lump under a bed. “Anyway, as I was saying, before somebody felt the need to be ill on my floor, ahem, Harry’s got to say yes! I mean, why wouldn’t he? He’d get to leave the Dursleys’, for a start. What could be better than that?”
“And Hedwig’ll come too!” shrieked Pig.
I swear, I could have eaten that brainless little rat with wings right then and there. But, fortunately for him, I dislike eating rats. Mice are much tastier.
Not able to stand the shrill voice for two seconds more, I flew out, and back to Harry.
I flew gracefully into the kitchen, and back to the windowsill. But Harry and I were not alone. Dumbledore sat across from Harry. Harry was no longer in shock, but was asking the headmaster questions.
“What about having to stay at the Dursleys’ because that’s a place where my mother’s blood resides?” asked Harry.
“You will remember, I suppose, that when you left your aunt and uncle’s house earlier this summer, that a group of The Order members came, but left Professor Lupin behind?” said Dumbledore
“Yes,” said Harry, looking confused. “Why was that?”
“Professor Lupin waited until your relatives came home, and then stunned them all. He took a small sample of your Aunt Petunia’s blood. After that, he revived them all, put a memory charm on them and dissapparated.”
Dumbledore pulled a tiny, crystal clear container, filled with a deep red substance. He held it out in his had for Harry to take. Harry didn’t.
“W-what do I do with it?” stammered Harry.
“You must keep it with you at school, and when you go home with the Weasleys for the summer you must keep it with you,” Dumbledore said. Then he added vaguely, “Of course, you may not need it at all.”
Harry looked in shock again. “I have to keep it on me at all times?” he asked, slightly incredulously.
“Only during the summer holidays,” said Dumbledore. He tapped the bottle with his wand, and a thin chain was suddenly attached to it. He held it out for Harry again, and this time, Harry took it. He put it around his neck, looking slightly grim. I didn’t blame him. Erlack! Imagine having to carry around somebody else’s blood around with you! Especially if that somebody was still alive. Gross.
Dumbledore left, and Harry walked over to me.
“Disturbing, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the small bottle with distaste. He tucked it into his sweater, and stroked my feathers.
“Just a bit,” I hooted in reply.
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Author’s Note: I hope you liked chapter 2. I’m going on a pioneer reenactment in just a few days, (and will get back the day Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince comes out, so I wont be able to get it at midnight… not that I’m bitter, or anything) and I have TONS of things to sew before then. And don’t get mad at me if you don’t get chapter 3 for a while, because I’ll be reading HP6, over and over again. I’m writing these as fast as I can, but my genius cannot be constantly employed, or I might loose my marbles.
P.S. If you love Harry Potter, review!
Chapter 3: The Three-Way Will by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter 3: The Three-Way Will
Later that afternoon, Harry sat at the kitchen table, stroking my feathers. “So, Hedwig, what do you think?” he asked.
“Well, you don’t understand a word I say, so I could tell you that Kreacher climbed into the airing cupboard, accidentally locked himself in and died, but since you don’t, I wont,” I hooted irritably.
It really makes no sense why he even bothers asking my advice. It’s not like he can even understand what I’m saying.
Harry looked at me oddly. “What did I do?” he asked, almost incredulously.
I never got a chance to answer, because at that moment, a man stepped into the kitchen. “Hullo, Professor Lupin,” said Harry.
“Good afternoon, Harry,” said Lupin. “I’m here to talk about the will that S --,” he took a deep breath. “That Sirius left behind.”
Harry didn’t respond. He just stared at the piece of parchment clutched in Lupin’s hand. Lupin un-sealed it with his wand, and smoothed it out on the table. Harry silently read through it, then sat back in his chair, running a hand through his untidy heap of jet black hair.
“He said to divide the remainder of the Black fortune between me, you, and the Weasleys,” Harry said. His voice broke as he held up a tiny silver key, “He’s left the key to the Gringott’s vault.”
“No “ he surely didn’t give any to me “ May I read it?” asked Lupin.
Harry handed over the parchment and the key. Lupin’s eyes darted over the same spot in the paper.
“But “ he shouldn’t have “ it takes away from what he gives to you “,” Lupin stammered.
“He meant for you to have it, and you’re going to take it,” said Harry. His voice had shifted from uneasiness to firm resolution. “I’m going to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” he added, walking out the door.
Lupin sat back in his chair. I watched as a single tear rolled down his young, but worn cheek.
“Padfoot, my dear friend, thank you.”
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By the time Harry had returned with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin had recovered. They all sat around the table, and Harry handed the will to Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley looked on with him. When they finished reading, Mr. Weasley let the parchment fall to the table.
“No, Harry, we couldn’t possibly take this from you. It should be yours “,” Mr. Weasley started, but Harry cut him off.
“I didn’t write that will. Sirius did. He wanted you to have it. It would be an insult to him not to take it,” he said determinedly.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She got up and walked around the table to hug Harry.
“Thank you so much, Harry. This must be awful for you to have to deal with this,” she said between sniffles.
She released Harry, and blew her nose on a handkerchief.
“I’m going to go and think about “ stuff,” said Harry, rising up out of his chair. He held up his arm. “C’mon Hedwig.”
I flew obligingly from the windowsill, and landed softly on his arm. He walked out of the kitchen, leaving the adults to discuss the arrangements for the three-way will.
We made our way up the stairs, but instead of going into Harry’s room, we kept going. Up at the top of the stairs there was a small landing, and one door. Harry turned the door knob, and pushed the creaking door open.
In the middle of the room, there was a bed, on which lay the hippogriff called Buckbeak. I flew off Harry’s arm, and sat on the dresser, far from the carnivorous hippogriff. It is really a disgusting creature. Half bird, half horse. It’s not even fit to be an animal, let alone a pet.
Harry approached the bed, and bowed. The hippogriff inclined it’s head, and then looked at Harry, as though trying to sense any food he could be carrying. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the hippogriff’s beak.
“Since Hedwig won’t give me an answer, do you think I should let the Weasleys adopt me?” He asked the hippogriff.
I hooted indignantly. Why was he asking that horse’s butt what to do?
“Ooh, so now you decide to answer me?” he smirked.
“Fine, don’t let them adopt you. Be thrust out into the cold world! See if I care!” I hooted.
Harry laughed. That boy sure knew how to get to me. Curse him, he’s good.
“Fine, I’ll forgive you,” I hooted softly.
“If I’m their son, will that put them in more danger than they’re already in?” he asked me.
“Who knows?” I hooted.
“I do,” said Buckbeak superiorly.
“Maybe, but nobody cares what you think,” I retorted.
At that point, Pig flew in.
“He should say yes, because then Hedwig and I can hunt at night together, and hang out during the day time!” he shrieked excitedly.
“For the last time, Pig: I would rather be eaten by this half-pigeon than spend an hour in your company!”
“Are you talking about me?” asked Buckbeak.
“Who else?” I hooted.
“So you’re excited too!?” squealed Pig.
Buckbeak looked at me, then stuck out his tongue.
Harry just stared back and forth at us. “I don’t understand animals.”
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Author’s Note: Hope you liked this chapter! I decided it might be nice to end this chapter a little more happily then the last one. There’s a good chance I’ll get chapter 4 out before the 16th, but cross your fingers for me anyway! If you like this story the teensiest weensiest bit, then please review! Thankya much!
Chapter Four: The Black-Haired Weasley by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter Four: The Black-Haired Weasley.
Dinner that evening was brimming with anticipation. A few attempts were made at conversation, though they died almost immediately. I sat, as I had so many times before that day, on the windowsill. Pig was next to me, quiet, for once. I suppose that he too was eagerly awaiting Harry’s answer.
Harry suddenly put down his fork, and looked up. Everybody around the table raised their heads immediately, and looked at Harry. Harry looked right at Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting across the table.
“Please pass the potatoes, Mum.”
The effect of theses words were enormous. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears; Ginny and Ron did a high five; Percy (who was sitting to the left of Harry) clapped him on the back; Hermione gave a shriek that sounded oddly similar to the one that Pig let out, and Mr. Weasley choked on the pumpkin juice he had been drinking.
“So, Mum, what will you be calling Harry?” asked George, his face split in a wide grin.
“How about ‘ickle Harry-kins’?” said Fred, his face identical to George’s.
But Mrs. Weasley didn’t hear either of them. After hastening to Harry, and hugging him so hard he looked as though his eyes were going to pop out, she had dried her eyes, and started preparing desert. The family talked happily throughout the evening, and I listened to Pig. He rambled on about how great it was going to be when I was moved in, and how we could spend so much time together, and how we were practically related. It was enough to make any owl loose the desire to eat for the rest of their lives.
“Hey, beautiful; come here often?” came a low hoot from my other side.
“Please, Hermes, that is the oldest pickup line known to owl-kind,” I hooted, turning to see the handsome owl beside me. “Not to mention you’ve already used it on me about seventeen times.”
Hermes looked taken aback for a moment, but soon regained his normal (if it can be called normal) behavior. “So, what’s the party for?”
He really is so dense. I mean, come on! The whole house has been buzzing about it all day. Hermes has probably been staring at himself in a mirror all day. “Harry has accepted being adopted by the Weasleys. For full detail and/or annoying commentary, see Pig, located on my other side.”
That shut him up all right. Though, unfortunately, it did nothing to hinder the flow of what would soon be my future coming from Pig.
“Who’s up for some Butterbeer?” asked Mr. Weasley to the table. Everybody agreed, and soon there were foaming bottles of Butterbeer being passed around the table.
“Thanks Dad,” said Harry happily. Every time that Harry called Mr. or Mrs. Weasley Dad or Mum, everybody smiled; Pig shrieked on with renewed enthusiasm; I attempted to react gladly. I really was happy for Harry! It was just unfortunate that his happiness came at the expense of never having a sensible moment to myself ever again.
Dessert passed happily, and everyone had emptied their bottles of Butterbeer. Mrs. Weasley stifled a yawn, and addressed the table.
“Bed time! We’ve plenty to do tomorrow!” She walked around the table, giving each of her children and Hermione a hug and a kiss. “I know you want to celebrate, but we’ve got to get your school supplies tomorrow, and Ronald needs some new underpants.”
Ron went scarlet. It was very amusing to watch as the blush started at the bottom of his neck, spreading upwards quickly, like a thermometer being heated up. It would have been very amusing if he had been given a Pepper-Up potion, then he’d be smoking out the ears as well.
Everybody got up, laughing at the very beet-colored Ron, and made their way to their rooms. I lingered behind to snag a few sips of Butterbeer that had spilled. Afterwards, I flew up to the room that Ginny and Hermione shared. They were already climbing into their under their covers, and I flew to the bedpost above Hermione’s head.
“Congratulations, Ginny,” yawned Hermione.
Ginny just smirked at her.
“I’m really very happy for you,” said Hermione.
“Yes, I suppose you are,” smiled Ginny. “Though not as happy as you are for yourself. Am I right?” she asked wisely.
Hermione gaped at her. She took a deep breath, and regained her composure. “I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re talking of,” she said with a brave stab at poise. Ginny simply rolled her eyes.
“You know, you shouldn’t fight it. It’s obvious to me; I have no idea why nobody else has picked it up.”
“And what is ‘it’ supposed to be?” asked Hermione innocently.
“Oh, it’s just… you know…” Ginny began airily, then broke into a speedy rant, “the fact that you love Harry with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns!”
Hermione now resembled a goldfish; her mouth opened an closed repeatedly, but not a sound escaped her astonished lips.
“I thought so!” exclaimed Ginny triumphantly. She switched off the lamp, and lay down on her bed. “Good night!” she said happily. No response greeted this happy statement though. Hermione remained sitting up, still gaping noiselessly. I flew out at that point. Adolescents can be so amusing.
I heard a set of identical voices coming from behind a door that was cracked open. A sliver of light was spilling onto the landing. I flew in sideways to avoid hitting my wings on the door and door frame.
Fred and George were crouched over a cauldron, which was filled with a red smoky, floating kind of substance.
“It’s not supposed to be that color!” whispered Fred.
“Quite right…” said George. “Ooh, that’s why!” he said, pointing at a line in the book in front of them. “We were supposed to stir it clockwise seven times left-handed before adding the powdered cockroach legs!”
“Good thing we made two, eh?” said Fred. “Evanesco!” he said, pointing his wand at the contents of the cauldron, which disappeared. He pulled out a second cauldron, and replaced the old one with it. “After a month of perfect potioning, we messed up on the last two steps!”
“So unlike us,” agreed George. “Oh well.”
He stirred the dark blue substance in the cauldron seven times clockwise with his left hand, and the potion paled to a light blue. Fred tipped a small bottle of powdered cockroach legs into the potion, which promptly turned crystal clear. Like water, almost.
“I’ll test it!” said Fred energetically.
“Excellent!” said George. He took what looked like an eyedropper from his pocket, and sucked up a few drops. “Pumpkin juice, tea, or Butterbeer?” he asked Fred.
“Pumpkin juice, I think,” said Fred, as though he did this everyday. George conjured a glass of orange juice, and carefully let two drops of the clear substance drip into the glass.
“Cheers,” they said in unison.
Fred drank deeply from the glass, licked his lips, and smiled. An odd, glazed expression stretched over his face.
“What is your deepest, darkest secret?” asked George.
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A/N: I am really really really sorry! I got a case of writer’s block about three times while writing this chapter! I knew what I wanted to happen, I just didn’t know how to make it happen… And I was really depressed about a certain character in HBP er, passing on… *sniff* And I was trying to read everybody else’s copy of HPB that I knew to make sure that mine wasn’t malfunctioning.
Chapter Five: Dark Secrets and Diagon Alley by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter Five: Deep, Dark Secrets and Diagon Alley
“What is your deepest, darkest secret?” asked George.
“Well,” said Fred monotonously, “I kissed Luna Lovegood.”
George actually gasped.
“It was under the mistletoe last year at Christmas. I was proving to her that nargles don’t attack when they see people snogging.”
“You don’t… like her, do you?” asked George, as if he rather feared for Fred’s sanity.
“No,” said Fred simply, “Rachel maybe, but not “ definitely not Lovegood. She likes Ron, anyway.”
“Who’s Rachel?” asked George.
“Rachel Sarah Whittingheimer,” replied Fred promptly.
“Hmm, I’ll take note of that… might come in handy…” mused George. He gave Fred a glass of pumpkin juice, after adding two drops of opaque black liquid to it. Fred drank, and was immediately restored to his usual self.
“Did it work?” Fred asked eagerly.
“Perfectly,” replied George, “Loony Lovegood, eh?”
Fred laughed, “Yes, I was meaning to tell you that, but it slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, sure,” laughed George.
Well, this was a whole new set of developments. Highly amusing developments too. I was wrong about teenagers, their love lives are remarkably humorous, and not a waste of time at all. I exited the room, swooped past several closed doors, and found the room where Harry slept. The lights were already out, and Harry was lightly snoring into his pillow. I flew to my sleeping quarters, or as everybody else calls it, my ‘cage’, and was carried peacefully off to sleep.
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The next morning the Weasleys, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody all left for Diagon Alley. They were gone for several hours, leaving me to the mercy of Pig’s rambles, which were becoming increasingly more “ er “ Pig-ish. I gave up trying to escape him. I listened, toying with the idea of flying to the States, and staying there. Though I’ve heard horror stories of what happened to owls who accidentally flew into a place called ‘McDonalds’ and were made into ‘hamburger’ patties. The things you hear in the Hogwarts Owlrey, eh? But not all of Pig’s ideas sounded completely revolting. No “ there was that description he gave of us dissecting a rat, and eating the brain. (rat brains are an owl delicacy, mostly because they are so tiny, and most rats don’t have one)
Everybody came home from Diagon Alley with bulging bags. Harry came in and dumped the contents of his bag onto his bed, and pulled a small basin out from under the heap of robes, potion ingredients, and books. I heard footsteps stomping up the stairs, and so apparently did Harry, for he thrust the basin under his bed, and quickly began to fold up his robes.
“Hey, Harry, you sure charged up here fast,” said Ron, breathing a little more heavily than usual.
“I “ er “ just wanted to… get my stuff put away, because I’m really hungry,” said Harry.
“Me too,” said Ron over the grumbling of his stomach. “I’m going to get something to eat right now.” Ron dumped his bags on his bed, and walked out the door.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” called Harry after him. Harry pulled out the basin once more, and a small piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it, and read. He positioned the basin in front of him, and put his wand tip to his temple.
“Memoriola Abdo,” he said quietly.
Harry pulled the wand tip from his forehead, and attached to it was a long strand of silver, that he placed carefully in the basin. He repeated it several times, steadily filling the basin with liquid looking gas, or maybe it was gas looking liquid. Whatever it was, it was odd. Harry finished adding the silvery stuff to the basin, and put it under his bed. He left the room and headed down stairs.
I wondered what the unknown substance in the basin could possibly be, and why it was giving of a shimmering light. I flew to the floor and hopped under the bed, looking down on the basin. It was as though the surface of the substance had become a window into another dimension. A busy street was bustling below me, it was bizarre. I recognized it as Diagon Alley because I saw Harry walking past the Apothecary where I was purchased. I leaned over closer to see the scene below me better, and my beak barely touched the shimmering material. I felt as though I was being jerked forward, and suddenly I was in Diagon Alley.
I was suspended in midair, and had to start beating my wings suddenly to keep from tumbling to the ground. I saw the mop of black hair between a bushy brown and two fiery red ones. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were heading down Diagon Alley, chatting happily and toting large packages of school supplies and clothes. Mrs. Weasley came running up behind Ron, and pulled him away toward a clothing store. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny kept determinedly strait faces until Ron and his mother were out of sight, then they burst into laughter. A tall blonde boy came walking up behind the group, and pushed his way between Hermione and Ginny. They both glared at him, and he stared back at Ginny.
“What did you do that for, Malfoy?” asked Harry angrily.
Malfoy didn’t answer him, though he turned around to face Harry.
“What did you do that for?” asked Harry more persistently.
In reply, Malfoy pulled up the sleeve of his left arm. Harry continued to glare at him.
“Are you showing us so we’ll think your innocent? So that as soon as we leave, you’ll go and get the Dark Mark burned into your arm and we’ll never know? Are you really convinced that just because you haven’t joined Voldemort yet “”
“Not here, Potter,” said Malfoy quietly. He motioned for Harry and the others to follow him. Harry exchanged glances with Hermione and Ginny. Hermione looked confused. Ginny just shrugged. They followed Malfoy. I flew above them, looking down on this most peculiar scene.
Malfoy lead them to the Leaky Cauldron, which was full of people, sat down at a table in the corner. Harry sat opposite him, still looking skeptical. Hermione quickly sat down beside Harry. Ginny was left with no choice but to sit next to Malfoy, which she did, crossing her arms and looking stubbornly in another direction. I flew to rest on Harry’s shoulder.
“Near the end of last year, I had every intention of joining the Dark Lord “” began Malfoy, but Harry cut him off.
“Only Death Eaters call him ‘the Dark Lord,’ Malfoy.”
“Fine, I had every intention of joining V “ Vol “ Voldemort,” said Malfoy with difficulty. “My father told me I must, and I at the time I respected my father. I thought that his work of muggle torturing was the best thing to be. I was more than ready to follow in his footsteps.”
Hermione looked uncomfortable.
“And what’s made you change your views?” asked Harry, putting his arm around Hermione and pulling her closer.
“My mother,” Malfoy said simply.
“And what’s she got to do with anything?” asked Hermione.
“She didn’t like the idea of me becoming a Death Eater. She pleaded with my father not to go when Voldemort returned a year ago. She was supportive of him when he first joined, but as he sunk lower into Voldemort’s work, they grew farther apart. When ever they appeared in public together, she was supposed to act as though they were the happiest of couples. She was told that if she did not show a distain for everybody my father disliked, she would pay. When I started thinking about being a Death Eater, she became sick. I told her I would not, if only to calm her. I still wished to join Voldemort. But when she expressed her wishes to my father shortly before he was taken to Azkaban, he “” Malfoy’s voice wavered, and tears welled up in his eyes.
“Yes?” said Ginny, almost gently.
“He was angry “ he tortured her “ and he “ he killed her,” whispered Malfoy. Tears were now flowing down his face. “He said he would not put up with a wife who wasn’t supportive of Voldemort.”
A tear had escaped Hermione’s eyes. Ginny looked as though she had been slapped.
“How did that make you decide to turn over?” asked Harry quietly.
Malfoy wiped his reddened eyes. “My mother loved me, and only did what she thought was right to protect me. My father killed her for that, and I will never forgive him. I will get him back if it’s the last thing I do. Because of Voldemort, I have no mother, and a murdering father. I will do everything in my power to stop his work from progressing.”
“Because of Voldemort, I have never known my mother or my father. Because of Voldemort, the only substitute for a father I have ever known is dead as well. I know how you feel. I believe you,” said Harry.
“Thank you, Pott “” Malfoy inhaled “”Harry.” He offered his hand for Harry to shake.
“You’re welcome Draco,” said Harry, shaking his hand.
“Not to be rude, but how do you know he’s telling the truth?” interrupted Ginny.
Harry turned to face her, as did Draco and Hermione.
“Well, I’m just saying,” said Ginny, “that we ought to check.”
“I am telling the truth,” said Draco. “But if you are still in doubt, fetch Veritaserum; I will do anything to prove that I am changed.”
I wondered vaguely what ‘Veritaserum’ was.
“Who do you know that’s carrying it around on them?” asked Hermione.
“I’ll be back,” said Ginny, getting up and hurrying out the door.
A few moments passed where nothing was said, but then they began a conversation, and ‘SPEW’ was dragged up into it. Malfoy listened as Hermione explained the purpose of it. It looked as though he was trying to suppress a sarcastic comment, but he merely smiled. He and Harry began to exchange amused looks. He even bought a badge, and pinned it to the front of his robes before Ginny returned.
“I got some from Fred,” she gasped, having obviously run the whole way. “It’s not a dud, I made him try it first. Apparently, he kissed Luna last year! I thought he was joking, but then George said he wasn’t.”
“He kissed who?” asked Draco, looking confused.
“Oh, never mind that, what’s that on your robes?” she asked, then laughed. “You’ve polluted his mind as well?” she asked looking to Hermoine.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue that she had not polluted his mind, but Harry put a hand over her mouth and looked at Malfoy.
“So, what’ll you have to drink?”
I suddenly felt a hand come under me and scoop me up. I twisted around to find myself sitting on Harry. I was so confused. Harry was at the table, but I was also sitting on his arm, this is probably why I’m not a human, things are much to confusing. We began to rise up into the air to a small circle of light.
“Hedwig, how did you get in here?” asked Harry.
“You should know better than to leave things like this laying under your bed!” I hooted as we found ourselves once again in Harry’s and Ron’s room.
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A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I’m leaving for camp… *counts on fingers* …tomorrow! I hope you’re glad that this chapter is nice and long. (compared to the others, anyway) I hope you enjoy it, and reviews are welcomed!
Chapter Six: Spiked Butterbeer by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
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Chapter Six: Spiked Butterbeer
After my little trip down Harry’s memory lane, he explained that Draco had indeed been telling the truth. I would have asked him questions, but he can’t understand me, so it would have been fruitless.
He went downstairs, and I followed. He sat at the kitchen table with Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Ron had been oddly moody since their return from Diagon Alley, and had his arms folded. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around cleaning, as usual, but left to go sort laundry. Fred and George came in as she was leaving, looking over their shoulders. George sat down while Fred walked over the cupboard and pulled out bottles.
“Who’s up for some Butterbeer?” asked Fred, his back turned to the table.
Everybody except George exchanged suspicious glances.
“What’s the occasion?” asked Ron skeptically.
“How thick are you?” asked George. “I’d have thought that you in particular would still be celebrating about a certain new Weasley we all know.”
“Yeah, especially one who’s not a git,” added Fred while levitating bottles of foaming Butterbeer toward the table.
“But wont Mum notice?” asked Ron.
“Nah,” said George. “We’ve brought all our dirty laundry. It is such a pain to do it ourselves. She’ll be busy for a long while.”
“Good enough for me,” shrugged Ron, taking a swig of the foaming liquid. Everybody else followed, including Fred and George.
Ron had sat back and licked his lips when an odd, glazed expression unfolded across his face.
“Fred… George… You didn’t… Did you?” asked Ginny, looking both amused and as though she could not believe what she was seeing.
“What do you think?” asked Fred proudly.
“I think you’re both mad!” said Ginny.
“Veritaserum?” asked Hermione quietly.
“Why though?” asked Harry.
“Well, there are a few things that we’ve been wanting to know,” said George simply.
“Why’ve you been so moody since you got back from Diagon Alley?” asked Harry before Fred could say anything.
“Mum bought me more maroon socks, but that’s not what has really been bothering me…” Ron said.
“What is it then?” asked Ginny and Hermoine together.
“Fred kissed Luna,” he said angrily.
“And how does that make you angry?” asked Fred. “Me kissing Loony “”
Ron jumped up. “Don’t you dare call her Loony, you “”
Harry, Hermione and Ginny all leapt forward to stop Ron from attacking Fred, who looked rather stunned.
“I don’t “ know why “ he’s doing “ this,” said Harry, while trying to restrain Ron. “Last time I saw “ Veritaserum used “ the person didn’t “ get this emotional “”
Harry, Hermione and Ginny finally managed to get Ron back in his chair.
“When’ve you seen it used before?” asked Hermione.
“Barty Crouch Jr., you know, that nutter that pretended to be Mad-Eye in our fourth year. The only time he showed any emotion was when he was talking about Voldemort,” “ there was a general intake of breath “ “and that was with adoration, not anger.”
“Have you got an antidote for this?” asked Ginny angrily as Ron jumped up again for a fresh attempt at an attack.
“Right here,” said George, walking forward with a small tube of black liquid. He poured a few drops into Ron’s mouth.
Ron looked momentarily stunned. He fell back in his chair, now looking completely normal.
“Where were we?” asked Ron, completely unconcerned.
We all stared at him. I wondered how he could have been so angry a few moments ago, and then just… not.
Harry, Hermione and Ginny were looking rather thunderstruck, as were Fred and George, though they also looked triumphant.
“I knew it…” breathed Fred.
“What’s going on “ Why are you all looking at me funny?” asked Ron.
“What was the point of that?” demanded Hermione angrily,
“The point of what?” asked George, still grinning.
“You know very well what she means!” snarled Ginny. “Veritaserum!”
“Veritaserum?” asked Ron, clearly very confused. “You gave me Veritaserum?”
“Righto!” said Fred enthusiastically. “I am so sorry, Ron, for snogging your true love!”
Ron’s ears looked as though they were on fire. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks that clearly said, “Get ready, because Ron’s about to blow again.” But Ron did not loose his temper. He didn’t move to attack Fred. He just looked at the ceiling.
“She’s not mine,” he mumbled.
Ginny, who’s face had been angry before, suddenly looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh. A feat that neither Fred or George were accomplishing very well. They were rolling around on the floor, crying with laughter. Harry was chuckling, and even Hermione cracked a smile before walking over to Ron and patting him comfortingly on the back.
“Don’t worry Ron, I’m sure she will be.”
“Yeah,” said Ginny, “I’ll talk to Mum and see if I can have her over for the rest of the summer.”
Ron looked up hopefully, “Really?”
“Of course,” said Ginny kindly.
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A/N: This chapter is late, I know “ *covers head to avoid being hit by rotten tomatoes* and shorter “ *gets bombarded with rotten tomatoes* But I had a really bad case of writer’s block. The kind that makes you say, “Oh my freaking gosh! I have absolutely no freaking idea what to write!” Kinda like that… and I had conjunctivitis (pink eye) when I came back from camp, and wasn’t feeling in tip top condition!
Chapter Seven: Snogging And Would-Be Scrubbing by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
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Chapter Seven: Snogging And Would-Be Scrubbing
Luna Lovegood arrived at 12 Grimmauld place in a week after they (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, etc…) had received permission from the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, then Dumbledore.
“I came on a Garmarkling Shimdug,” she said airily, walking into the kitchen. I shivered. Every one knows that the Garmarkling Shimdug eats owls… after gutting them alive.
She was wearing a pair of glasses that were swirled, giving her the look of a hypnotized person. Ginny came in after her, pulling Luna’s trunk. Harry quickly got up and took the trunk from Ginny, and began making his way toward the room that Luna would be sharing with Ginny and Hermoine. Ginny, Fred, George, and Hermione followed.
“Here,” said Fred, tapping Harry on the shoulder as he was about to start his way up the stairs. “Locomotor trunk!” he said, flicking his wand toward the trunk.
“Thanks,” said Harry. I watched them disappear up the stairs.
“Hello, Ronald,” said Luna, taking a seat next to him.
“Erm “ Hi, Luna,” said Ron, sitting up strait and sticking out his chest, obviously trying to look impressive. “What’s a Garmarkling Shimdug, anyway?”
Luna took off her glasses, and her eyes widened. “You’ve never heard of the Garmarkling Shimdug?”
“No,” said Ron. “But they must be “ interesting. Aren’t they?”
“Oh yes!” said Luna, pulling a rolled up magazine from her pocket, and handing it to Ron. “On page 43!”
Ron flipped to page 43, and read the article. As he neared the end, his eyes widened.
“Wow,” he said, handing the magazine back to Luna. “What happens when you meet an owl? Doesn’t the Garmarkling Shimdug “ you know “ gut it?”
“Oh no! Dad and I have trained him not to touch owls!” she said. I gave a sigh of relief.
“He? Does he have a name?” asked Ron.
“Yes. We found him a few weeks ago. I named him Ronald,” said Luna dreamily.
“Oh,” said Ron, looking rather pleased. “That’s a good name.”
“Do you want to see a picture of him?” asked Luna.
“Yeah,” said Ron excitedly.
Luna pulled a crumpled photograph, and handed it to Ron. He stared at it for a second.
“A tree? He’s a “ tree?”
“No,” said Luna, “He’s invisible!”
“Ooh, that’d explain it.”
I flew out at that point, all the talk of owl-gutting creatures was enough to make anybody sick. I flew to the room that Ginny, Hermione, and now Luna were sharing. Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on three camp beds that were arranged in there.
“Congratulations, Ginny for successfully uniting Ron with his true love!” said Fred, shaking Ginny vigorously by the hand.
“Well, it’s because of you two that we knew that they fancy each other,” shrugged Ginny.
Hermione smiled. Harry chuckled.
“Well, it’s amusing at any rate,” he said.
“Let’s nip down quietly and see what they’re up to,” said Hermione conspiratorially.
Fred and George exchanged mock looks of shock.
“The honorable, trustworthy, etc…, prefect is suggesting that we spy on young lovers?” asked George.
“Well,” said Hermione, blushing, “yes.”
“All right, then,” said Fred happily, bounding toward the door.
“Quietly!” said Ginny, jumping up after him.
Everybody else followed, so I did too. They crept slowly down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaking floor board on the second landing. I flew ahead of the group and flew through the kitchen door. If owls could laugh, I would have died doing so.
Ron and Luna were locked in an embrace, but still managing to have a conversation. Well, actually it was more of a one sided conversation.
“Did you “ know “ that there’s “ a Wocmockle “ in here?” asked Luna breathlessly between kisses.
“Mmm,” mumbled Ron.
I heard a few chuckles from behind the door, though the snoggers did not.
“It’s in “ your hair,” Luna said.
“Mmm,” mumbled Ron again.
Luna seemed to give up on having a conversation, and proceeded to snog Ron so vigorously that the chair he was sitting on almost toppled over.
At that point Hermione fell through the door, crying with laughter.
Ron jumped about three feet into the air, his face was as bright as a glowing coal. Luna just sat there, her eyes still closed, smiling slightly.
“I’m so “ sorry,” gasped Hermione. “I couldn’t “ help it.”
Harry, who was laughing just as hard, attempted to help her up, but succeeded only in falling down himself. Ginny fell over them; she could barely breath she was laughing so hard. Fred and George, however, strode over to Ron and clapped him on the back.
“Good for you,” chuckled George.
“Brilliant,” said Fred.
Ron smiled sheepishly, “Thanks.”
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Nobody made any mention of Ron’s snog fest the next day. Though everybody who had witnessed it took great pleasure in raising their eyebrows and smirking at them whenever Ron would attempt to lead Luna away to a nearby broom closet.
At breakfast, Ron and Luna sat next to each other, holding hands under the table, so as not to attract the attention of Percy, Mrs., and Mr. Weasley. Ginny sat on Luna’s other side, occasionally collapsing in fits of giggles, and blaming it on Pig, who was next to me, (as usual) regurgitating an unnaturally large owl pellet. It was revolting.
On Ron’s other side was Harry, who was next to Hermione, who was next to Fred, who naturally was seated by George. The last two were imitating Ron and Luna. They were making kissy faces at the couple when nobody was looking; Fred took George’s hand in his own and George giggled and batted his eyelashes.
“What is it with you two this morning?” demanded Mrs. Weasley upon catching Fred and George.
“It’s nothing Mum,” said George, taking a large bite of eggs.
“We’re just in a good mood, that’s all,” said Fred innocently.
“Well, I’m glad you’re in a good mood, because the attic needs cleaning,” said Mrs. Weasley.
A collective groan followed these words. After breakfast they began trudging upstairs. (“Oh, Luna dear, you don’t need to work! You’re our guest!” “Oh, no I’d be happy to help. There might be a ferparknim.” “…Erm “ All right then, dear…”) On the third landing, Ron and Luna made a slight “(slight meaning 11 minutes and 32 seconds) “ detour to a broom closet, but the rest continued on, sniggering. I flew after them, and when we reached the attic, I nearly flew back down again.
Old and very decrepit pieces of furniture lay cluttered about. Moth-eaten rugs were rolled up and placed against the far wall. Glass shards were everywhere, catching the light and flashing from the 2 inches of dust, dirt, and who knew what else that covered the floor.
“Well, let’s get started,” said Harry in a resigned sort of way. He picked up a batty broom from the corner, and began to pry the carpet of dust off the floor.
“Harry, Harry, Harry…” said Fred in mock exasperation.
“We have wands for that sort of thing!” said George.
“You may, but we “” Harry indicated himself, Hermione, and Ginny “ “don’t.”
“Oh, yes you do,” said Fred sneakily.
“The Ministry can’t detect underage magic in this house, its unplottable, unfindable, un “ whatever-able,” said George.
“Yes, but it’s still not right…” said Hermione, looking unsure. But Harry and Ginny had already bolted from the attic to get their wands. They came back moments later, Ginny clutching Hermione’s wand as well. Hermione still looked hesitant.
“C’mon, Hermione, you know you want to. Think how much easier it’ll be!” said Ginny coaxingly.
“But “” began Hermione.
“Please, Hermione,” begged Harry, “Let’s get it done before Ronniekins and his love get here and start snogging in front of us!”
Hermione immediately snatched the wand from Ginny’s outstretched hand, and pointed it at the nearest dilapidated armchair.
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A Note from Rachl (The author, you should know that by now… unless you don’t care): Tee hee hee, not to mention, giggle. I loved writing this chapter. A little fluff from the general direction of two of my favorite characters, Ron and Luna! Ah, if you think love is in the air now… You all just wait!
Chapter Eight: The Wizard Wheezes of Weasleys and Whittingheimer by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
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Chapter Eight: The Wizard Wheezes of Weasleys and Whittingheimer
The attic was cleaned and all the furniture either vanished or restored in a matter of minutes. I was sitting happily on a recently conjured (and thankfully clean) perch. Fred and George were discussing the latest of their joke shop inventions to Harry, Hermione and Ginny, who were all seated in large, dark green velvet armchairs.
“And this here is an Ink-Transferring Quill,” said Fred, pulling a completely harmless looking quill from a box that he and George had fetched from their room, and handing it to Hermoine, who was nearest.
“What does it do, exactly?” asked Hermione, fingering the quill.
In reply, George conjured a piece of parchment, and pulled another of the quills from the box. He screwed up his face, apparently thinking hard, and touched the top of the quill to his temple. Then, his face returning back to normal, he dipped the quill in an inkbottle, then traced “I AM GRED” on the parchment. But the words appeared not on the paper, but on Fred’s forehead.
He then screwed up his face again, touching the quill to his temple, and traced “I AM FORGE,” though, this time the writing appeared on his own forehead.
“That reminds me of Umbridge’s quill,” said Harry, rubbing the scars reading ‘I must not tell lies’ on the back of his right hand. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all,” said George. “That was one of the bugs we had to work out. The person being written on won’t feel a thing.”
“And that’s where we got the idea in the first place. You know, Umbridge,” added Fred.
“Watch this “” said George quickly as everyone looked up at the sound of footprints ascending the stairs toward the attic. He exchanged looks with Fred, who nodded and took a quill.
Both screwed up their face at the same time, touched the quills to their temples and each wrote something on the parchment.
The door of the attic opened and Ron and Luna came in, tousle-haired, and grinning. On Ron’s and Luna’s foreheads, different messages were scrawled in very familiar handwriting. Ron’s forehead read: “I SNOG LUNA LOVEGOOD”, while Luna’s read “I ENJOY IT.” Harry and Ginny immediately burst out laughing. Hermione gave a small smile.
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After Mrs. Weasley had approved the cleaning job on the attic, everybody went downstairs for lunch. Thankfully, Fred had borrowed Pig to send a letter, so at least I didn’t have to listen to him ramble. Fred and George had removed the messages off Ron’s and Luna’s foreheads. Mrs. Weasley was humming to herself as she prepared sandwiches, obviously in a good mood. Fred and George exchanged significant looks.
“So, Mum, do you mind if we all go to the shop today? I mean, can we take Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Luna, etc?” asked Fred, looking eager.
“Well…” said Mrs. Weasley, “I suppose, but “”
“Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll be careful!” said George. “We could just do side-along-apparation, if you like, it’s much safer.”
“All right then,” said Mrs. Weasley, putting the plate of sandwiches on the table.
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After eating as much sandwiches as they could hold, the group going to Diagon Alley got ready to leave. Fred linked his arms with Ginny and Harry, Hermione linked arms with Harry. George managed to separate Ron and Luna, and put one on each of his arms. As I saw they were about to leave me behind, I flew at the last moment to Harry’s shoulder.
All I can say of that method of travel is that I never want to do it again.
“Hedwig!” exclaimed Harry upon finding me perched on his shoulder. “You just can’t be left out, can you?”
“Nah, she has probably just been dying to see our shop,” said Fred. “Welcome, everyone, to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! We closed it specially so we could show you with out customers interrupting.” He gestured around at the brightly colored shop.
Shelves were lined up one after another, almost overflowing with merchandise. Fred and George, who were wearing their lime green dragon-hide jackets, surveyed the place with obvious pride.
“We kept it closed today just so we could give you the grand tour,” said George.
“Oi! Rachel! Are you in here?” called Fred. He then turned back to face the group, “Rachel Whittingheimer, just hired her a week ago.”
“Fred fancies the bajeebers out of her “,” whispered George, but he stopped.
“Allo, Fred!” came a voice from behind a shelf, “Allo, George!”
One of the most peculiar girls I have ever seen walked over. Well, actually she didn’t walk, she rolled. She was wearing lime green rollerblades that exactly matched the color of her dragon hide jacket, and her eyes. Apparently it was part of the shop uniform. Her dark red hair was very short and spiked in the back; her fringe covered one of her eyes. A patch of freckles sprinkled across her nose. She also was wearing jeans and a bright red t-shirt depicting a yellow rabbit, it said: ‘school prepares you for the real world, which also sucks.’
Everybody just stared at her for a moment, until she said, “Hey, Fred, George, what’s that on your “ ah! Ink-Transferring Quill?”
“Naturally,” said George, inclining his head.
“So, who are all these?” asked Rachel, gesturing around at them all.
“Oh “ er “ hi, I’m Harry,” said Harry.
“Ah, yes,” said Rachel. I felt Harry stiffen, as though sure that she was about to mention that he was ‘The Boy Who Lived’. She didn’t however; she merely smiled widely and said, “Our sponsor. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a bus girl at the Leaky Cauldron.”
“I “ er “ Thanks,” said Harry, looking pleased.
“I’m Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry’s,” said Hermione, holding out her hand for Rachel to shake.
“Of course, you’re the brains of the operation!” said Rachel. “Fred and George have told me all about you, and from what I’ve heard and deduced, George did fancy you at some point. Fourth, fifth year, around that time…” she looked over at George as though to confirm this.
Hermione looked shocked, George merely shrugged. “I did, you know.”
“You did?” asked Ron incredulously.
“You’d be Ron, I suppose, and you are Ginny, of course!” said Rachel, shaking hands with them both. “But I’m afraid I don’t know this kid, here,” she said, indicating Luna.
“She’s my “” began Ginny, but Ron cut her off.
“She’s my girlfriend,” he said proudly.
“Well, now that you’re all acquainted, Fred and I have some business in the back,” said George. “Rachel will show you around the shop.”
George started to walk toward the back of the shop, but had to stop to grab Fred by the arm and drag him along. “Ah, c’mon Fred, put your eyes back in, will you? We’ve enough love in the air without you contributing to it.” And Fred was forced to oblige.
“So, what about you?” asked Harry, barely concealing a smile behind a quizzical look.
“I’m a muggle born, along with my twin brother Max, and my elder sister, Kirsten.”
Hermione looked rather pleased with this information, and questioned Rachel farther. “What house were you in?”
“I was in Gryffindor, in Fred and George’s year. Best years of my life. See, I’m the youngest in my family, (by 2 minutes and 46 seconds) and the tomboy as well. My sister Kirsten was put into Ravenclaw, but still managed to hook up with Charlie Weasley. She used to have a thing for punk rock band members, but she found brawny dragon tamers more… to her taste. My brother Max “ Or, Maxmillion, as he insists “ was sorted into Ravenclaw, like Kirsten. But unlike Kirsten, he is very stuck up, snotty, rude, arrogant, conceited, annoying, discourteous, foul, putrid, uncivil, smug, vain, rotten, rancid, maddening, irritating, exasperating, galling, nauseating “”
“I “ er “ think we have the general idea of Max’s character,” cut in Harry.
“I think he sounds a lot like Percy,” shrugged Ginny, who had obviously not forgiven her older brother yet for insulting them.
“What about the rest of your siblings?” asked Harry tentatively. I, for one, didn’t know that somebody could shoot that many adjectives out of their mouth in such a short space of time. Rachel had quite the vocabulary for her brother.
“Kirsten is very sweet and giving, but she is also very funny, and, like I said, has a thing for Charlie,” said Rachel.
“Who do you ‘have a thing for’?” asked Ginny, smirking.
“No one, really…” she said airily, as though waving the question away. “I’ve not the time, nor the need for blokes. Much too troublesome, if you ask me,” she said. “My sister is dreadfully girly, but I like her just the same. And of course, it’s not like I could just hang out with Max. Either I’d kill him, or he’d attempt to kill me. I mean “ I still like boys, but only to joke around with.”
Ginny and Hermione exchanged skeptical looks.
“So, how about that tour?” asked Rachel happily.
She led the group between shelves, pointing out inventions.
“That there is our Blink-Away-Ink, somebody will start writing with it, and as soon as they blink, all the writing’s gone, and they have to start all over again! And our Two-Question-Chew, perfect for divulging a total of two true secrets from your chosen victim.”
“‘Mazing…” mumbled Ron. “Pure, evil, genius…”
“And a newer, more muggle related invention: Mood-Swing-Contacts, which I’m wearing at the moment. I hated wearing glasses, and the summer after my third year, I got contact lenses. But they were so boring. But these “ these are just fantastic. Look, when I’m in a good mood, which is quite usual, my eyes are green, like now. When I’m angry, little flames appear where my iris should be. When I’m sad, they turn blue. When I’m scheming, or planning an evil prank on one of my beloved siblings “ usually Max “ my eyes go yellow and hawk-like. When I’m annoyed, they go silver. My natural eye color is green, but depending on your natural eye color, the colors for the different moods are different.”
“That’s wicked!” exclaimed Ginny.
“Yes, not to mention, Max finds them quite irksome…” Rachel reflected happily.
“Is your goal in life to do everything in your power to annoy Max?” asked Hermione.
“No, but it is so rewarding,” said Rachel. She walked on to the next item. “Personal Bubbles, All you do is blow the bubble, it’ll surround you, making it impossible for anybody, or their voice to get through to you. It’ll also stop Jinxes, which makes it a personal favorite of several Aurors.”
“Aurors are buying from here?” asked Harry.
“Oh, yes, even if it’s just something silly, meant for privacy, like the Personal Bubble, they’re so uptight and cautious these days, they want anything that’ll protect them,” replied Rachel.
“What are these?” asked Luna, indicating bags filled with a smoky looking material.
“Ah, that’s a personal favorite of mine, it hasn’t really got a name yet, but it still works magnificently. All you do is open the bag; a bunch of smoky looking letters will arrange themselves in midair, spelling ‘Kick Me’, and you just point your wand where you want to kick your victim, and the sign will rush over and hit with such an impact, that the person will feel as though they’ve really been kicked. Best part of all is that the person will have ‘Kick Me’ written on their buttock all day, until the robes are washed.”
“Excellent!” said Harry exuberantly.
“Glad you like it,” smiled Rachel.
I heard distant footsteps. Fred and George were coming back.
“So, what do you think?” asked George.
“It’s marvelous!” said Hermione in awe.
“Absolutely ingenious!” said Ginny.
“I think it’s quite nice,” said Luna dreamily.
Ron was to busy intertwining his fingers with Luna to say anything. When Hermione saw this, her look of wonder turned to gloom.
“I see the Triwizard gold was put to very good use,” smiled Harry.
“I think we’d do well to head back,” said George, eyeing his watch. “Mum will probably send out a search party if we’re not back soon.”
“All right then,” said Fred, but it sounded to me like he would rather stay. “Let’s go like we did on the way here “ Ron, Luna, you go with George. The rest will go with me “ Rachel, do you mind closing up?”
“’Course not,” said Rachel happily.
George grabbed Ron and Luna, and disapparated. Everyone else had linked arms, I was on Harry’s shoulder, dreading the trip back, when the entrance to the shop flew open, and a blond haired boy ran inside.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A Note from Me: You readers are soooo flippin’ lucky that I like you so much! I spent my whole weekend writing chapter nine! And I did a hecka good job! (In my opinion, anyway, I guess I’ll have to see how you like it when it’s out) Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to leave cliffhangers? REALLY SATISFYING! It makes me feel so evil inside! I think I need to practice my evil laugh! MUAH HA HA!
P.S. If you want to know what happens in chapter 9, I would suggest reviewing. Just a little hint!
Chapter Nine: Stranded by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
Chapter Nine: Stranded
George grabbed Ron and Luna, and disapparated. Everyone else had linked arms, I was on Harry’s shoulder, dreading the trip back, when the entrance to the shop flew open, and a blond haired boy ran inside.
Everyone turned around.
“Malfoy,” whispered Fred in disgust.
“Malfoy?” asked Rachel quizzically.
“Draco!” exclaimed Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.
“They’re after me,” gasped Draco. ““ I’ve been running “ have to hide.”
“Who’s chasing you “” began Harry, but he was cut off.
“Like we’d hide you!” said Fred, pulling out his wand.
“Wait!” shrieked Ginny. “He’s on our side!”
“Yeah, right,” said Fred.
Harry began explaining to Fred and Rachel, while Hermione got Draco a glass of water. Before Harry had finished explaining, a booming voice came out of nowhere:
“DEATH EATERS HAVE BEEN SIGHTED IN DIAGON ALLEY. ALL STORES WILL BE SEALED IMMEDEATLY. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPARATE. DO NOT PANIC. DO NOT ATTEPT TO SEND ANY MESSAGES. MINISTRY AURORS WILL BE SEARCHING ALL SHOPS FOR DEATH EATERS.”
“What the bloody “,” began Fred.
“Death Eaters!?” exclaimed Harry. His wand was out from under his belt before I knew it, and he lunged toward the door. I flew off him, screeching indignantly, and flew to the top of a shelf. Hermione, who had looked taken aback for a moment, sprang at Harry, knocking him over.
“Just where do you think you’re going, Harry?” she demanded, pinning Harry to the ground by the shoulders.
“I was going after the Death Eaters,” spluttered Harry.
“Are you mad?” asked Hermione.
“No, but it’s “ it’s “ well, you know,” said Harry.
“The directions are to stay here!” said Hermione pleadingly. “You can’t go anywhere!”
“Well, I think that’d be a bit difficult, considering you’ve got me on the ground,” said Harry.
Fred coughed, “The door’s already been sealed. Same as the windows.”
Both Harry and Hermione turned to face the group, who were staring at them. Hermione hastily moved away from Harry, who got up looking bemused.
Later on, two Aurors came by to search the shop. Upon seeing Draco, they pounced on him. Ginny and Hermione had shrieked, and everyone else had yelled. Finally, after the Aurors had pulled up Draco’s sleeve and found no dark mark, they were satisfied he wasn’t a Death Eater.
Everyone asked them if they could try to apparate home, or at least send a message to their family, but the Aurors said stubbornly that it looked as though they would have to spend the night. The majority of the Aurors under the Ministry were stationed other places, and there weren’t very many left to search Diagon Alley. The sun was setting as the Aurors left.
“Mum’s probably going berserk,” said Fred. Harry and Ginny nodded in agreement.
“Do you reckon we should set out some sleeping bags?” suggested Rachel.
“Yeah, all right,” said Fred. He and Rachel waved their wands, conjuring six very comfortable looking sleeping bags.
“And we’ll need these,” said Rachel, waving her wand again. A pile of pajama pants, t-shirts, and sweaters appeared at her feet.
Everyone chose a different row between shelves to change in, and then they all sat on their sleeping bags. Hermione began to braid her hair. Ginny and Harry sat next to Draco. Fred finally seemed to have been convinced that Draco was trustworthy.
The group talked through half the night, until Rachel dozed off and tipped over backwards, hitting her head on a shelf. Laughing, the group got into their sleeping bags, and one by one, fell asleep.
All except Draco and Ginny. After everyone had fallen asleep, Ginny scooted over to Draco, and they talked until they couldn’t hold their eyes open any longer.
I looked at them all sleeping from my perch on a shelf. They all looked peaceful, despite the day’s hectic events. I thought somewhat longingly of my more comfortable perch at Grimmauld Place… but we’d be going home tomorrow.
It amazed me how sleeping could make a mischievous boy like Fred look completely innocent. Or how it could make Draco’s sharp features look friendly. When they had first gone to sleep, they had been organized in a circle, but such was not so the next morning…
I woke up early the next morning, but I wasn’t the only one.
Fred was sitting up in his sleeping bag, and Rachel was still asleep, her head resting on his chest. Fred had one arm around her, stroking her bed-head hair absentmindedly with the other hand and smiling.
Hermione was picking a loose strand from the arm of Harry’s sweater in her sleep. They were both lying on their sides, and during the night, Harry had unconsciously laid his arm across Hermione. He wrapped it tighter around her, murmuring something that sounded like “…my…oh…knee…”
Draco and Ginny, thought both asleep, were in a sitting position, her head on his shoulder, and his head on hers.
Fred softly rumpled Rachel’s hair, and kissed the top of her head. I flew down to sit on Fred’s knee. We both watched as Rachel’s eyelids fluttered open, then closed again. Smiling sleepily, she snuggled closer to Fred until her eyes flew open, and she lifted her head abruptly, staring at Fred. He smiled tenderly.
“Morning, love,” he whispered to her look of mortified embarrassment. And without any warning, he leaned forward and kissed her. Rachel gave a quiet gasp of surprise, but wrapped her arms around Fred’s neck all the same.
Looking over at the others, I saw that Hermione had woken up. Her face was split by a wide and delighted smile. But then one of her hands found Harry’s arm wrapped around her, and the smile slowly faded as her eyes teared. She wiped her eyes hastily on her sleeping bag as Ginny and Draco began to stir. I didn’t understand why Hermione would be crying. If she really did ‘love Harry with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns’ why would she cry if he had his arm around her?
Rachel and Fred broke apart quickly, but not before the others had seen.
“You sure that you don’t ‘have a thing’ for anyone now?” asked Ginny, sitting forward. Draco fell over behind her. “Ooh, sorry Draco,” she said.
“Well, I think I might after all,” said Rachel, smiling and looking completely unashamed. “And it looks like I’m not the only one,” she said, eyeing Harry’s arm around Hermione.
But at this point, Harry woke up. “Erm, sorry, Hermione,” he said, withdrawing his arm and pulling away. “Must’ve done it while I was asleep…” he said, fumbling for his glasses. Both Harry and Hermione looked embarrassed. Ginny and Rachel both smirked and raised their eyebrows at one another.
“What?” asked Fred, Harry, and Draco, seeing this exchange.
“I think you and I might be the only ones that aren’t hopelessly blind!” exclaimed Ginny to Rachel.
“I think you must be right,” smiled Rachel. “So,” she said, stretching her arms and yawning, “How did you all slee“” But she was interrupted by the booming voice from the day before.
“THE DEATH EATERS HAVE BEEN CAUGHT AND TAKEN TO AZKABAN. PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. MORE INFORMATION WILL BE GIVEN SHORTLY. THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC APOLOGIZES FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.”
“I forgot about them,” said Harry, looking stunned.
“Should we go back then?” asked Hermione.
“We can’t just leave Rachel,” said Fred.
“Or Draco,” added Ginny.
“That’s no problem,” said a voice from the door.
Everyone jumped up and faced the door. Lupin and Tonks were standing in the entrance, smiling.
“Wotcher, Harry,” said Tonks, winking at him.
“Dumbledore said you’d probably have guests, and that we were to escort them to headquarters,” said Lupin. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, and motioned for Rachel and Draco to come over. They did, and read the writing on the parchment.
“Got it?” asked Tonks.
They nodded their heads.
“All right then, Rachel “ you apparate with Fred. Ginny, Draco “ you with me, and Harry and Hermione go with Tonks,” said Lupin.
“Hedwig’s here too,” said Harry. “She flew to my shoulder the last moment when we were apparating here yesterday.”
“Let’s go then,” said Tonks, looking expectantly up at me. I flew obligingly to her shoulder, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the short “ but torturous journey ahead.
Before I knew it, all of us were back in Number Twelve’s kitchen, and I saw Mrs. Weasley sobbing at the table. She sprang up when she saw us, and ran over to her sons and daughter, hugging them, and continuing to cry into their shoulders.
George, Ron, and Luna appeared in the kitchen. Much hugging ensued, so I flew over to the windowsill, where Pig and Hermes immediately joined me.
“Oh Hedwig! I was so worried! Are you all right!” shrieked Pig.
“I’m fine Pig!” I hooted.
Mrs. Weasley had just finished hugging Hermione. Rachel and Draco were standing awkwardly in the corner.
“Oh Mum, this is Rachel Whittingheimer,” explained Fred quickly. “And Draco “ er “ Malfoy.”
Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, but hugged both Rachel and Draco all the same.
After Mrs. Weasley had finished fussing over everyone, she started making lunch. Everyone had disappeared as she started bustling around the kitchen, and I flew to investigate.
Ron, Luna, Harry, Draco and Ginny were all sitting in the bedroom that Harry and Ron shared. Hermione had burst out, tears running down her cheeks when I had flown in, and the rest were discussing it.
“What is it with her?” asked Ron to nobody in particular.
“I dunno,” said Harry, looking worried.
“Honestly! You are both blind!” said Ginny angrily, heading out the door after Hermione.
“I’d better go help and cheer her up,” said Luna, sounding serious for once.
“What did I do?” asked Ron. “All I did was kiss Luna on the cheek!”
“Never try to fathom the inner-workings of a woman’s mind,” said Draco wisely.
Harry didn’t say anything. I wanted to know what was going on, so I flew after Ginny and Luna.
Hermione was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and staring out the window. I flew to the windowsill, and saw that her tears had stopped. Ginny was patting her on the back.
“I’m so tired of this,” said Hermione dryly as Luna sat down beside her.
“’Mione, you cant expect him to figure out all on his own that he loves you,” said Ginny.
“Yes. I had to tell Ronald!” said Luna. “But I never exactly got all the words out, because he kissed me before I could.”
“See! Everything just fell into place for you!” said Hermione. “He sees you once in radish earrings and he’s madly in love with you!”
“Well, you both looked pretty cozy this morning,” said Ginny.
“He said it was an accident. He didn’t mean to, he was asleep!” said Hermione.
“Then why, may I ask, did he keep pulling you closer and murmuring “’Mione” last night? I saw it and heard it. So did Draco,” said Ginny matter-of-factly, as though this settled the matter. “All right, after lunch “ Luna, get Ron away from Harry and Draco, snog him, whatever “ I’ll talk to Draco and Harry, and get Draco out, leaving you and Harry. Hermione, I expect you to tell him.”
“Lunch time!” came Mrs. Weasley’s voice up the stairs.
“Perfect!” said Ginny. “Let’s go.”
Ginny and Luna exited, Hermione stayed behind a while to collect herself. As she stepped onto the landing, George came down the stairs alone, and joined her.
“Where’s Fred?” asked Hermione.
“With Rachel, of course,” said George cheerily, “And about time, too. He’s been talking about her for ages.”
Hermione smiled, and they walked downstairs together. A few moments later, as I myself was exiting the room, Fred and Rachel went down the stairs, hand in hand.
Author’s Note: Whew! I’m finally finished with this chapter. Took me long enough! But school started, and I got homework the second day! How wrong is that!? VERY. Please tell me what you think! I personally love this chapter, but I want to know if you did too! Pretty please with Harry Potter on top review!
Chapter Ten: Scheming, Skirmishing, and Settling Down by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
Chapter Ten: Scheming, Skirmishing, and Settling Down
Lunch passed happily enough. Mrs. Weasley seemed determined to make everyone eat until they were about to burst. (“You’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday!”) Rachel was attempting to play thumb-wars with both Fred and George at the same time, Ron and Luna were holding hands, Draco and Ginny were conversing in low whispers, Hermione was going over her O.W.L. grades for the fifty-five zillionth time, and Harry was staring at his food.
When they had all finished eating, Ginny dragged Luna, Hermione, and Rachel off to their room. The boys went up to Harry and Ron’s room, and I followed.
“Your owl does like to be involved in everything, doesn’t she?” asked Draco.
“Yeah, well,” said Harry, stroking my feathers, “My life is rather interesting, innit?”
“No kidding, just about any bloke would swap places with you any time,” said George.
“I wouldn’t,” said Fred.
“That’s only because you’ve got someone to snog now,” said Ron.
“I beg your pardon,” said Fred, raising an eyebrow at Ron. “Rachel and I do not spend every waking minute kissing “ or as she calls it, swapping saliva “ unlike some people I know. We choose to employ our time more productively.”
Ron’s ears turned red. Draco and George laughed. Harry stared out the window.
“Oi, Harry! Can you hear me, mate?” asked Ron, looking concerned.
“What “ oh, sorry,” said Harry, jerking his gaze away from the window.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Fred. “You’ve been acting funny ever since we got back this morning.”
“He looks exactly like Fred did before he and Rachel got together, you know, always staring at nothingness!” said George. “Who’re you thinking ‘bout?”
“I’m not thinking about any “” said Harry, but was cut off by the entrance of the girls.
“Hey Fred “ George “ Harry “ Ron “ Draco,” said Rachel, looking around at the boys.
“Hey,” they said in unison. Rachel walked over and sat on the bed between Fred and George. The other girls sat down, with the exception of Luna.
“Ronald… can I see you outside?” she asked.
“Sure,” said Ron, sounding eager. He got up and bounded happily toward the door.
“And off they go! No doubt to some highly romantic broom closet,” said George as Ron and Luna disappeared.
Fred turned to Rachel, and whispered in her ear. “Speaking of highly romantic broom closets…” She turned to face him, grinning mischievously. Before I knew it, they had disappeared as well.
Ginny laughed. “Do you know what she said to us when we first met her, George?” He shook his head. “She said, “I’ve not the time, or the need for blokes. Much to troublesome, if you ask me.” That’s exactly what she said, isn’t it, Harry?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Harry, not even smiling.
“Well, we should go stop them before they exchange “ wait “ swap too much saliva,” said Draco. Ginny and George followed him out of the room. Ginny closed the door behind them, but not before giving Hermione a very meaningful look.
Harry and Hermione were sitting awkwardly across from one another. I took off from Harry’s knee, so as to get a better view of both of them.
“Erm, Hermione, I’m sorry about this morning. I was asleep, and “ well, I didn’t mean to invade your personal bubble… or anything,” said Harry quietly.
Hermione took a deep breath. “Don’t say sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry.”
“W “ What do you mean,” asked Harry, looking utterly bewildered.
“I means, Mr. Harry James Potter, that the only reason that you holding me might have made me upset me is that I know that you could never really feel toward me what I feel about you,” said Hermione, she had jumped up, and her voice was loud, but cracking.
“But what if I could?” asked Harry, jumping up and looking down into her eyes as though searching for something. “What do you feel for me, Hermione? I can tell you exactly how I feel about you.”
“What?” asked Hermione. She no longer sounded as if she was about to cry, she sounded “ defiant. “How do you feel about me?”
“I feel that without you, I could never laugh; I could not face Voldemort; I could never love anyone, if I am not allowed to love you,” said Harry, as though forcing his voice calm. “When I woke up this morning, with you in my arms “ for one tiny moment, I was happier than I have ever been. Winning a thousand Quidditch matches could never make me as happy as I was for that one, infinitesimal spec of time that I held you.”
Hermione looked shocked, disarmed, confused.
“And what do you feel for me?” asked Harry almost angrily. “What are the feelings that I could never “ according to you “ reciprocate?”
“If you ask Ginny, I love you with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns,” said Hermione with difficulty. “But I love you even more than that.”
They stared at each other, as though trying to see who could go the longest without blinking. Then Harry’s face changed. His expression had been almost angry, but it changing. Now searching, wondering, holding back from something, decided, gathering courage.
“Hermione…” said Harry softly, “Can I kiss you?”
Hermione beamed. “No.”
Harry looked confused, not to mention devastated.
Hermione just kept smiling. “No, not before I put an imperturbable charm on that door,” she said, pointing behind her.
A wave of relief washed over Harry’s face. He waited while Hermione pointed her wand at the door, muttering. A mix of swear words came from behind the door, along with Fred and Rachel’s interjections of “Fruitcake!” Hermione smiled.
“Where were we?” she inquired happily.
“Well, I “ erm “ we were about to… er…”
“Kiss?” suggested Hermione helpfully.
“Yeah “ that,” said Harry.
Awkwardly, they shuffled forward to face one another. And how is that not understandable? I mean, one minute they’re best friends, the next, they discover that they’re wildly in love with each other.
Stuff like that just doesn’t happen every day. Anyway…
Harry leaned down as Hermione stood on tiptoe. They closed their eyes and their lips met. It was not a long kiss, but when they broke apart, their breathing was heavier all the same. Hermione put her arms around Harry’s neck, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her forehead, and rested his own head on hers.
And that was how they stayed for a very long while: in each other’s arms.
Author’s Note: Don’t worry, this isn’t the final chapter. I’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up, duct tape together, or attack with superglue. There’s still one more! Then… if I feel like it, I’ll write another story… I just need an idea… Only those who have read the 7th Harry Potter book are excused from reviewing! Just kidding! But it would be appreciated all the same!
Chapter Eleven: Loose Ends by Waddiwasi chik
Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Eleven: Loose Ends
At length, they released one another. Smiling sweetly, Hermione planted a tender kiss on Harry’s nose. He took hold of her hands, and together they left the room.
Following them into the hall, we met Ginny and George. Apparently, Rachel and Fred had taken off when Hermione had inperturbed the door.
*~*~*
Seven years have gone by since that happy summer’s day when Harry and Hermione had first kissed. Many crucial events and life changing experiences have altered my opinions on many levels. Most important of which is my love life. Near the end of the wonder trio’s seventh year, Hermione got an owl. Not to mention, an owl of the male variety. His name is Roland, and our first owlet is due to hatch in a matter of days.
Anybody who thought that I was going to get through a whole romance without falling madly in love is utterly hopeless… Honestly, did you see how many of Cupid’s arrows were flying around?
Pig finally found the meaning of life. He’s become a writer. He writes. Don’t ask me how he manages it, but he’s actually written an autobiography… with a quill. I believe it’s several rolls of parchment. He’s trying to get Ron to publish it, but Ron doesn’t seem to understand what he’s saying.
Hermes is as “ well, he hasn’t changed. He is single and miserable, (I’m not sure he’s aware that he’s miserable…) but I can’t seem to stir up any sense of compassion for him…
Buckbeak is as blissfully unaware of important issues as he ever was. He gets along wonderfully with Luna though; she alone seems to be able to decipher the meaning behind his bland monotony.
Humans? This whole story was about the humans! We can’t focus on me a bit longer? Well, all right…
Ron and Luna married as soon as Luna got out of Hogwarts. They have one child, an adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed girl nick-named Lexy, (Her full name is Galaxy. Don’t ask me how the heck the got that name) and one more on the way. Ron got his dream job with the Chudley Cannons. His family moves around constantly, which couldn’t be more convenient for Luna, who loves to take her young daughter searching for unknown magical creatures.
Ginny started dating Draco as soon as she had dumped Dean and went back to school for her fifth year. They’re still dating. Though the family wasn’t thrilled at first, they’ve eased up a bit, and Draco is a regular dinner guest at the Weasley table.
Fred and Rachel got engaged shortly after Rachel’s nineteenth birthday. They had gone to a Hogwart’s class reunion, where Fred had boasted far and wide that he and Rachel were going to be married. When somebody pointed out that she didn’t have a ring, and inquired if he had even asked her to marry him, he shouted across the room: “OI! RACHEL! WILL YOU MARRY ME?” And she had shouted right back: “FETCH YES I’LL MARRY YOU!” Their wedding was “ for lack of better word “ interesting. They now have a set of fraternal triplets, all with varying shades of red hair, and almost neon green eyes. Two are boys; one is a very feisty girl. Their names are Alex, Boyd, and Tinton.
I remember Fred once telling Ron that he and Rachel spent their time ‘productively’… Looks more like reproductively to me.
They are definitely a true Weasley family.
George met one of Rachel’s friends, Kit, at Fred and Rachel’s wedding. They’ve gone on a date almost every night since then, and from careful observation, I can’t predict any change in the pattern.
Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is still going strong with three managers: Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley.
Rachel’s older sister, Kirsten, and Charlie got married in Romania. She’s introduced him to alternative punk rock, which they listen and sing (very off key) together. They have a four-year-old boy, Billie Joe, whose dearest ambition is to grow up and tame dragons, just like his daddy.
Molly and Arthur are thrilled with their five grandchildren, though they expect many more… and don’t mind telling their children so.
Max finally met the woman of his dreams, Marietta Edgecome. Their idea of a romantic date is filing paperwork. Marietta doesn’t seem too thrilled or to upset about her predicament. Since her unusual acne does prevent a lot of normal social interaction, I believe she’s just relieved to have found somebody.
Harry finally defeated Voldemort after leaving school, becoming an Auror, and studying like a mad man. Hermione became a Healer. They were married in a small ceremony, accompanied by only the closest family and friends. For some reason, it was still all over the Prophet. They now have a set of twins, a girl and a boy. Lily has green eyes, and curly brown hair. James has chocolate brown eyes and the wildest black hair on the face of the earth. People often comment that they look just like their mother or father, except their eyes…
Even though they’re only a bit older than one, whenever they hear this, Lily and James just roll their eyes at each other.
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Author’s Note: I’m finished. It’s done. I never even thought I’d get a story on mnff! For heaven sakes! What am I going to do with all the free time? *sighs heavily* Oh, darn, I guess I’ll have to come up with an idea for another. This chapter is the grand finale, and I’d really love to know what you thought about not only this chapter, but also the overall story!
-Rachel (Yup, that’s my name! I told you I wanted to marry Fred!)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.