Golden Opportunities
The Fat Lady trilled with excitement and swung forward so exuberantly the girls heard the hinges crack, and the Fat Lady let out a little gasp of surprise. They ran inside, hastily saying their thanks.
The scene inside was of complete and utter chaos. People were piled three in a chair in front of the blazing (and thankfully contained) fire. The first-years, whom hadn’t spent as much time in the common room as most other students, were now examining things with a new light, things that Millie was almost certain had been there only a week previously. Still it seemed like a lifetime since she had seen the chipped figurine of Alberic Grunnion, his little eyes surveying the room expertly.
Millie pushed past eagerly and found herself in the Girls Dormitory. The sun was shining lazily through the window, casting rays of light over the crimson hangings. The girls flopped down on their respective beds, sighing with happiness simultaneously. Halle sat up with a mischievous look in her eye.
“Ready?” shouted Halle, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The two other girls nodded excitedly.
“Alright!” she pointed her wand at the Muggle music box, and a voice came floating over the air. The girls jumped up and down on their beds, and Halle thought that they were finally home.
Ginny Weasley fondly gazed down into her daughter’s face. She brushed back a curl of brunette hair, and softly pecked her on her upturned nose. Callie relaxed into her mother’s arms and grimaced slightly as Ginny lifted her up and into the crib. Ginny stroked her forehead lovingly, and started to sing softly.
Hush, little baby, don't say a word.
Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won't sing,
Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Papa's gonna buy you a Billy goat
And if that Billy goat won't pull,
Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull
And if that cart and bull fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town
“So, where is Daddy getting all the money for these diamonds rings, Billy goats and carts with bulls?”
Ginny spun around and smiled with relief when she saw a beaming Harry, his arms full with papers from the school.
“Hard day?”
Harry sighed and dropped the papers on the floor along with his briefcase and walked into Ginny’s welcoming arms. “There’s just so many of them,” came the muffled reply from Ginny’s bathrobe.
Ginny held Harry by the shoulders at arms length. “You know, I think I have a way for you to relax.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose at first in surprise, and then settled down in a mischievous look. “Oh yeah?” he asked, slipping back into her arms.
“Yes,” said Ginny firmly, a smile tweaking at the corner of her lips. “There’s a load of washing to be done, you can get some serious thinking done while sorting the socks from the shirts, then you can iron the shirts; be careful not to burn yourself.” Harry looked aghast, and she smiled. She paused for a second, and then added, “Oh, and I have to have a bath, and you might be able to help out with that too.”
For the first time since hearing his extensive list of housework, Harry smiled. “What sort of help do you need, Gin?”
She waved her hand flippantly. “Oh, I’m not quite sure just yet. Perhaps you could ponder whilst drying the clothes and get back to me,” she said airily, winking.
Harry moved back into Ginny’s arms, breathing in the scent of her citrus shampoo. “So,” he said, rubbing her back idly, “When am I staring on that housework?”
“Right now, young man,” came Molly Weasley’s reply as she walked into the room. Harry turned away from Ginny and wrapped her mother in a big hug. She held him at arms length and grabbed his jaw firmly and planted a firm kiss on his cheek, leaving a vermillion lipstick mark.
“Mum, thank you so much for coming. Everything was just stressing me out! So much to do, and so little Harry to help me,” Ginny said, wrapping her mother up in a firm hug. She noticed the glance on Harry’s face, a sort of longing.
“Oh, Harry dear. We both know you want to be around the house more often. But, of course, you have to keep an eye on those grand daughters of mine! They’re always getting into danger. Better keep two eyes peeled,” she said calmly, patting Harry warmly on the arm.
Harry nodded absently, his eyes trailing over Ginny’s bathrobe intricately. Ginny noticed this glance and turned to her mother.
“Mum, would you mind taking Callie for a few hours? It would certainly lighten the load, and help me to relax,” she said earnestly.
It looked as if this had made Mrs Weasley’s day. “Oh, would you?” she breathed. “Oh, yes! Arthur and I would be delighted to have her for the afternoon! She’ll be a handful, but nothing her Grandpa and I couldn’t take care of.”
Her silver hair was shining brightly under the overhead light, and her smile was wider than a cheshire cats. Clearly, she loved Callie. She gazed lovingly down into the cot. “I’ll just bundle her up and Floo it, shall I?”
Ginny nodded peacefully. She looked over at Harry, who seemed grateful to be getting a few minutes alone with his wife. As Molly bustled around collecting things, she hummed the tune to “Hush Little Baby,” just as Ginny had done previously.
“All right, I do believe we’re set!” exclaimed Molly from the depths of the closet. She emerged with a small cloak and a toy broomstick. Harry wound his hand around Ginny’s waist as they followed Molly and a peacefully slumbering Callie downstairs. She was sucking on her thumb, and looked the picture of adoration.
Molly carefully dropped some powder into the fire and stepped in, the baby bags bulging in her arms. “The Burrow!” she called cheerfully, and was gone in a whoosh of green air and flame.
“Now, for that housework,” Ginny murmured, slipping the lemon robe of her shoulders.
Millie was dreaming. It was a very physical dream, and she was twisting and turning in agony in her bed. She was sweating profusely, a slick stain coating her linen. The ruckus had woken both her cousins, and they were whispering fearfully at her bedside.
“What do you think it is?” whispered Halle fearfully to Giselle.
“I’m not sure,” said Giselle, just as anxious, despite the fluffy frog slippers she was currently wearing. All fun of the previous night had fled, like a cockroach scurrying away from the light.
They both turned to the bed in horror. Millie’s eyes turned a fearsome rabid red, and she began to leak bubbles of blood from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened in terror, and they could see she was having trouble breathing.
“Halle, this is not normal,” said Giselle anxiously, hovering over Millie’s bed, which was now soaked in her blood.
“Giselle, was this ever normal?” There was a hysterical note in her voice as she said this. “Giselle, go find Uncle Harry. Now. He’ll know what to do. Now!” she added, when Giselle turned back to her with a dubious expression on her face. She ran outside and presumably into the common room to the fire.
Halle turned to a now motionless Millie and let out a blood-curdling scream.
The golden bathroom tiles shimmered beneath a layer of frothy bubbles, an obvious sign of the waves of passion that had rolled out from the bone coloured bath rub in the middle of the room. It had old fashioned claw feet, and was currently occupied by two people. One, a man with hair that was tidy for once, and the other, a woman who was lying on her husband’s chest and listening as it rose and fell sleepily.
“Mm… glad I got that housework done,” she murmured, stretching out her arm from underneath her and settling into a more comfortable position. After all, this tub had only been made for one.
Her eyes caught a glance at her wedding band, made of simple gold with a small yellow stone set into the front, just as she had insisted. She wasn’t one to fuss for material gifts, although she had blissfully agreed with Harry when he had decided to purchase the Shrieking Shack and refurbish it, in memory of their old days. She peacefully sank back into the bath on top of Harry, who was slowly massaging her head softly, lovingly.
Admittedly, she had splurged when it came to the bathroom. Usually a queen of a castle demanded the best of kitchens; for Ginny, it had been the bathroom. A safe haven where she could go to relax, but suddenly the whole house wasn’t a relaxing haven anymore.
Giselle had just appeared with an almighty CRACK. She almost fell to the floor with the unsteadiness of her legs. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, but when she shook her head, her inky black locks thrashing, her eyes were clearly filled with worry.
“Giselle!” Harry sputtered, drawing both a surprised Ginny and mounds of bubbles self-consciously towards him. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
Giselle shook her head vehemently, her mouth gaping silently, the tears rolling down her face.
Ginny motioned for her to turn around. She faced the daisy yellow door, looking right through it into the hallway.
Ginny wrapped herself in a towel before grasping Giselle into her own worried hug and wiping away her tears.
“Now, Giselle, tell me what’s wrong,” she said in a soothing, motherly voice.
“M-m-Millie…” she choked out, staring with big watery eyes at Harry, begging him to understand.
Harry’s eyes widened, the emerald green becoming more distinctive in the steamy haze of the humid bathroom. He, too, had a towel around his lower half, and rushed towards the joint closet, grabbing one trouser leg with one hand and a lonely sock with the other.
“Get back to the common room, Giselle! I’ll meet you there!” he shouted from inside the closet.
She numbly dragged herself away from her mother’s arms and padded down the well worn carpet into the hall. She intoned in a flat, even voice, “Gryffindor common room,” and she was whirled away in a flashing of green flames as tall as Ginny in the grate.
Harry soon followed with a short, tender kiss, and a brief, “I love you.”
Halle was sobbing quietly as she watched her cousin take her last few rattling breathes. She seemed to be shriveling under the lack of blood. She was bleeding out all over her bedclothes from every orifice, all over the Gryffindor floor, draining her, draining all life from her looks.
Halle was staring blankly at the floor, already resigned to her cousin’s fate, thinking how desperately she would scrub the crimson stains out of the floor boards, and thinking how quick she had been to give up hope when the door blew open and Millie’s breathing hitched.
“Tergeo! ” Harry cried desperately, siphoning off the blood from Millie’s face and limbs.
Millie took in a deep shuddering breath, and thanked Harry with all the gratitude in her eyes, brimming with affection for her Uncle.
She started to scream hysterically again when blood began seeping in through her robes. Harry unblushingly threw back the drenched crimson covers from his niece’s body and ripped open her shirt, revealing the hideous Dark Mark carved into her skin.
It was an ugly mark, and the blood droplets spindling downwards, down to her stomach and onto the bed, a continuation of this ugliness. He repeatedly cleared the blood, but again and again it re-appeared, to the point where he was shouting himself hoarse, and Halle had begun to despair and glance at the floor again, two small tears working their way down her face silently.
Gisele was grabbing the end of the four-poster so hard her knuckles cracked and turned white. His face was drawn tight when Harry came to his conclusion, and a scared and small Millie lay bleeding in front of him, exposed to the world.
“I’ve come to one conclusion,” he said softly, not looking back at Millie. “Halle, what do you know about Sympathetic Magic?”
Halle drew her eyes towards Harry. They looked hollow and desolate, pools of darkness concealing faint points of light.
“Uncle Harry, this is hardly the time for a hasty lesson-” she broke off and her eyes widened, the pinpoints of light slowly growing bigger and her hope blossomed.
“Wendy,” she breathed.
Harry slowly nodded, and cast his eyes downward.
* * *
Millie dreamt of Wendy, half conscious of the people around her. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She saw a broke, dusty attic, and two shadowy figures in the corner, one struggling against the other powerful being.
“There you go, you little slut,” the Death eater spat to Wendy who was lying broken in a heap on the floor. Somewhere, a man’s high pitched laughter was swallowing Millie whole, totally and completely emaciating her until she fell back into the welcome darkness.
A/N: Okay, I am so evil. *dements* Soon, my pretties. It’s 1.36am on my Malicious’ birthday. Everyone at once, “HAPPY BIRHTDAY MALICIOUS!”
You do realize this equates to one chapter a month, so no complaints? *winkles*
-With Love, Steph-
B/N: And if Steph had a better beta, it wouldn’t have taken over a month to get this back to her. Let’s call it a belated birthday present for Malicious. *hides from angry glances cast at bad beta*
A/N: Ppft. Bad beta my beard. *strokes non existent beard*
Who here LUBS Lori for her hard work? *grins at uproar*