Hermione was nervous now; I could see it in her eyes. “Lauren. You can’t go back for it. Just think how it would look if you get your cello and try to come back here with it. You can hardly pretend you needed your cello to go to the toilet. It is lucky you brought your bag.”
“You go, I’ll stay. I’ll think of some way to get back home without being followed.”
Hermione shook her head. “I can’t let you Lauren. Draco Malfoy is really dangerous. He isn’t really a killer, but he likes torture. He could make sure you were never able to play the cello again. And he would, once he found you were a Muggle, and you wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. Believe me, Ben might not be so smart as he has lived his life with Muggles, but Draco has never mixed with them. There are all sorts of things that would trip you. You have to come with me.”
I knew she was right, but something inside me that hadn’t broken when Ben showed me his tattoo, went numb. I wouldn’t even be able to look through the door and see my gorgeous cello in its wonderful black case one last time. After a few awful seconds I gulped, and not able to speak, nodded dumbly and Hermione grasped me around the waist.
Then followed the most awful, horrible, terrible experience. I imagine it must be a bit like being born. No wonder babies come out screaming. I was squashed, turned upside down, thrown around and my head felt like it was going to implode. All the while things looked as if they were whirling around everywhere until I was so dizzy that I couldn’t think any more. Just as I was sure I was dead, we landed in our kitchen.
In spite of Hermione’s supporting arm, I fell heavily to the floor and was violently sick. I couldn’t even raise my head off the floor. I heard panicked voices, and a cleaning spell washed over me. I was being rolled over, and someone held my head, which wouldn’t operate on its own. Then someone was pouring a dreadfully bitter draught into my mouth.
Everything snapped into focus. I was lying on the floor, with my head in Harry’s lap, and Hermione was kneeling beside me with a medicine bottle and spoon in her hands. Ron was also kneeling, holding one of my hands and looking down at me. Everyone looked worried, and I tried to speak to reassure them; but slid into blissful darkness instead.
When I next awoke, I was in my own bed, the shadows telling me it was probably late afternoon. I felt fine, apart from emptiness inside. I remembered my cello, turned onto my face and wept.
A few seconds later, Hermione appeared and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Lauren, are you alright? Do you need anything?” She sounded frightened.
“Just my cello.”
I could hear her sigh of relief. Hermione put her hand on my back and rubbed it up and down. It was wonderfully comforting.
“Lauren, I’m sorry about your cello. We talked about Accioing it, but there are too many ways they could jinx the cello. They could track us if we called it here. We will get you a new cello somehow, I promise”.
I didn’t say anything as she was obviously feeling bad enough, but the cello had belonged to my great grandfather, and was irreplaceable. I told myself it was just wood, but the peculiar empty feeling persisted. I nodded instead and sniffled, trying to stop crying enough to be able to speak.
Hermione carried on. “I’m sorry about the Apparition as well. I had never done Side-Along Apparition before, and there are all sorts of different charms you have to perform if you do Apparition with a Muggle too, that I didn’t know about.” She gave a little frustrated sigh. “Ron told me. Sometimes it isn’t easy being Muggleborn. There are so many things that you are assumed to know, which you don’t. We never even learned it in either our Muggle classes at Hogwarts, or our Apparition studies.”
She rubbed my back some more, and her voice got a little gluey, so I could tell she was a bit emotional, if not crying. “I’m so sorry Lauren. I had not idea it would be so bad for you. We have all been worried sick. Please say you’re alright.” Her voice wobbled.
I had stopped crying enough to speak. “Perhaps you could do the charms tonight and attach them to me with a Permanent sticking charm?” I suggested stuffily through my sniffles. “I never want to have to do that again.”
Hermione laughed shakily, and I got up off my face and turned around. She threw her arms around me and hugged hard. “You can’t imagine how horrible it was to see you react so badly Lauren,” she mumbled into my shoulder. “I thought I was responsible for killing my best friend.”
I hugged back. “It was quite horrible enough doing the reacting,” I told her. “I’m not sure I want to imagine it from your side as well. Now, could you do something about my face, please, so I can go down and show the boys that I am still in one piece and in full possession of all my faculties? Well, as much as I ever was, anyway?”
Hermione waved her wand, and I felt my nose shrink back to its normal size and breathing became easy once more. You know how it is when you have been crying.
I still felt shaky when I got up and then, more because it felt psychologically better rather than because I needed to after her wandwork, I went into the bathroom and bathed my face in cold water. I was impressed to see that I looked quite interestingly pale, and had dark circles around my eyes. I practiced a few die away expressions, but reluctantly decided that I had better not use them, or the others would stop me doing any more work on the Horcruxes. I was still dressed in my long blue gipsy skirt and blue cardigan, and I changed them, as in spite of the cleaning spell, they had a faintly sour smell to them.
I smoothed down my long black hair and went to meet the boys. Hermione had told them I was coming down, and they were all sitting around the table with the huge brown teapot (magically enlarged from a small one I owned) steaming in the middle. Both boys jumped to their feet, and Ron held out a big bar of Cadburys. “This works for witches when they have been through the wringer, and we thought it might work for you too.”
“I’m fine.” Actually it was rather nice to have them all so concerned about me. I was still feeling very peculiar about my cello, and everything seemed just a bit unreal. It was a bit like something in me had died. I sat down and unwrapped the chocolate as Hermione poured out tea, and Ron moved over to the oven where delicious things were happening on the stovetop.
“So, what happened?” Harry asked, as soon as I had taken a bit of chocolate. I couldn’t sense any medicinal value from the bar other than the effect chocolate usually had on me, but that was good enough. In my opinion, chocolate is a medical necessity, comfort food and general all around anti depressant, and should never be taken sparingly.
“Ben told me he was a Death Eater,” I said baldly. “He wanted to know where you were, so that they can kill you. He told me Voldemort wasn’t that bad, only he called him the "Dark Lord" in this reverent sort of voice. Oh, and he sort of said I would be allowed to keep Katy and Alex if I let them know where you were. Then he took me up to see Draco, and Draco broke some girls arm, just for fun, and so I bolted for the bathroom, and found Hermione.”
I looked at her. “Come to think of it, he said it wasn’t you. How did you fool him?”
Hermione smiled. “I saw his reflection watching us in the glass door behind you,” she said. “When you left with Ben, I strolled around the corner, and luckily there was a boy coming along, and so I rushed up to him, hissed, “My name is Hermia,” and threw myself into his arms, and kissed him.” She blushed. “I just hoped he would enjoy it and he did - so much so that he dragged me into the nearest practice room and I had great difficulty getting away at all. He was like an octopus. Ugh! Some person named John.”
Ron’s expression was priceless. He obviously didn’t know whether or not to be jealous of John, or proud of Hermione’s quick thinking. He reached out and pulled Hermione to him possessively and she smirked, but stood on tiptoe in spite of the caveman like tactics to give him a lingering kiss that started to linger a bit too long. Harry and I turned our eyes away politely.
From the description, she had to have met John the horn player. He was the only person at college I knew that was gullible enough to believe something like that, and once Hermione had kissed him, he would have been extremely hard to get rid of. No doubt he would be telling everyone tomorrow of the sexy spy he had to cover for and who had been so grateful she had given him her all. It would have been half true, and nobody would believe a word of it.
I had to smile, at the thought of Hermione kissing John (I hoped she had washed her mouth out) but I felt like crying inside. Not only was Ben definitely a Death Eater, I had sacrificed my cello.
Luckily, before I had time to start, Harry dished up some kind of wonderful stew with meltingly fluffy dumplings, and elbowed Hermione and Ron apart. I wondered why we seemed to spend so much money on Chinese, when we had people who could cook like this around the house.
I was starving, seeing as how I had spent a lot of the day throwing up, and so I ate two huge bowlfuls and felt a lot better. I still felt strange though, as if part of me was missing. I told myself that Ben would look after my cello. His Dad might have it at his house, and then we could steal it back when we got Rowena’s viola de gamba. I could take it to college and lock it up there so we couldn’t be traced, and then afterwards, when it was safe again, we could de-curse it (or at least, the others could) and then I would have it back again.
“He must know where I live,” I said suddenly. “He wasn’t worried about being able to find me again. We should move.”
Hermione looked at me, unsure.
I sighed, resigned. “Spit it out. I can see something coming that you think I am not going to like.”
Harry, who had been relegated to the washing up part of the meal, laughed at that. “I wish we could read you that easily Hermione! We’re moving tonight, Lauren.”
Hermione blushed. “And I am afraid it will involve Side Along Apparition again,” she confessed. “But this time I will put the charms on you.”
“Great. You should have warned me. I wouldn’t have had two helpings of stew. And someone,” I added energetically, trying to ignore the persistent throbbing that resounded in my heartstrings like a cello’s lament, “Will need to find me a cello. I have to keep practicing the Ravenclaw.”
Harry looked as pleased as a dog with two tails. “We found one. We are going to stay with Neville Longbottom. His grandmother has an old cello that they have been keeping in the attic.”
Wonderful. Some old decrepit mouldy instrument that some forgotten witch or wizard had played a long time ago, and nobody had touched since. It would have no tone and probably really crappy strings, if it was even still intact and could be tuned. I forced a smile onto my face.
“That’s fantastic!” At least I had two new sets of strings, and pegs and things. All was not lost. I tried to keep my chin up.
After that, Hermione and Ron got out some books and did some wand waving over me. Not all of it inspired me with confidence though, as they did argue a bit while doing it, and I had to break up a snogging session that started over my shoulder of all places. Like I want to be in a Hermione/Ron snog sandwich? No thank you!
I worried about packing, but I had forgotten the wands. When the time came to go, Hermione walked through from room to room, and waved her wand. Things all packed themselves, reminding me irresistibly of Mary Poppins. When we left, the flat was empty, and only the furniture remained. I guessed I would have to write to the landlord and end our lease, which was luckily open ended.
Neville’s “house” was more like a mansion. Apparently it had some of the same kind of wards around it that Hogwarts had, which was one reason we were going there. We had to arrive outside the gates, and then ring to be let in.
The trip wasn’t as bad as the first Side Along I had done, but it wasn’t fun. I was green in the face and feeling sick when a tall, rather anxious looking boy with floppy brown hair, a slight stoop and a nervous air opened the gate. He took one of the boxes from Hermione, dropping it, and apologizing profusely. We trooped inside the gate after him.
Once inside I was formally introduced to Neville Longbottom, whom I knew from many Hogwarts stories. His dropping the box immediately made me think that the stories had probably not been exaggerated. I looked at him very curiously; Ron had once said he would make me look graceful, a rather tactless comment that had put my nose out of joint for about a week, and still rankled from time to time.
Neville could have been extremely handsome if he had stood upright and not looked so worried, but as it was, his manner made one want to be brisk with him to shake him up a little. He practically had a sign up saying "bully me."
Once Neville had led us into the house, he showed us to our rooms, and then downstairs again, where we met his grandmother. She didn’t use the whole house any more, just two rooms, so she said we wouldn’t disturb her at all. She was very nice, especially to me, telling me I was the first Muggle to visit, and that I was very welcome, and to ask if I needed any help at all, as most things worked via magic. She had a fierce look in her eyes for all her kindness, and I could tell she was a formidable old lady. No wonder Neville was worried looking.
It took longer to unpack than pack, and Hermione and I had just sorted out our bathroom things (we were sharing a room and bathroom, thank goodness, because I'd never have been able to turn on a light or switch on the shower left to myself) when Neville knocked on the door.
“I say Lauren. This is the cello. It hasn’t been played for ages, but I guess it is pretty old, so it should be a good one.” (Why do people always think that an instrument must be good if it is old? I have seen the crappiest old instruments.)
He stood kind of hopping from one foot to another, so I asked him if there was anything else he wanted, while I started to open the case. I didn’t hear his answer.
It was a lovely cello. I had forgotten about it being a wizard’s cello. It was still in tune, and the strings were perfect. The bow didn’t even need to be rosined.
After a while, someone touched me on the shoulder, nearly scaring me out of my wits. It was Hermione. She looked amused.
“I don’t think you heard either of us. Neville was wondering if you would play to his plants in the greenhouse sometimes. He has nocturnal and daytime ones. Greenhouses, I mean.”
I looked over at Neville and saw to my pleasure that there was an entirely new look in his brown eyes; one of astonished and pleased respect. He had obviously enjoyed my playing, and Hermione had that kind of proud look on her face that comes when you show off your pet dog’s new tricks.
“I would love to play to your plants,” I told Neville honestly. It would be a far nicer setting playing to plants. I saw myself as a sort of nymph in a forest glade, a fantasy that was a bit dashed when I saw some of the plants, but nice while it lasted. Of course it could just be that they wouldn’t be able to stand me practicing in the house where they could hear me, but I decided to take it as a compliment.
Don’t get me wrong “ I still really missed my cello, but at least I didn’t feel like an amputee any more. I got up and grabbed my music stand. “Well. Where is this greenhouse?”
Both of them looked a bit taken aback, but I hadn’t played all day, so I was firm. Any arrangements would have to be made without me, because I needed to practice. I got my own way, as I usually do about my practice.
Hermione huffed off down to the library to join the boys, and Neville led me outside to what he called the “Nocturnal House” where he made a safe area for me to play, making sure all the carnivorous plants were secured. He put a charm on my stand for me, so that I could see the music while the rest of the greenhouse was left in darkness. He left me a hand bell to ring, which he said would be heard in the house if any of the plants “got me” as he put it. Not very reassuring.
At first it was a bit weird, as when I started playing, there was a sort of whispering rustling sound, which I knew was the plants, but then I lost myself in my playing.
I played for hours, getting used to the cello. It was a very nice overall sound, and I had to admit it was probably on par with my cello, but the sound was more mellow, more suited to ensemble than solo work. I didn’t like it quite as much as mine, but it was not as bad as it could have been.
When I finished and actually looked around, I panicked. While I had been playing, the plants had moved. They were all around me, and there was no path to the door any more. I looked around for the hand bell and found it had been covered in moss, while some sort of ivy was growing up my chair legs and music stand. I stood up in a hurry, and was just about to yell for help, when I saw Neville sitting on a stone table at the side, stroking a funny gray green looking plant “ perhaps the famous Mimbulus Mimbletonia that spouted stink sap. I had heard that story a couple of times, and wondered if I should run now.
Neville put the plant next to him, jumped down from his seat and came over, careful not to tread on any of the plants that were making their way back to their places quite quietly in a well-behaved sort of manner. The hand bell and chair legs were now free. Neville noticed my expression.
“Oh, don’t worry. They were just enjoying it. I think it was a treat for them. I generally leave on the radio for them in the evening, but they liked having their own concert. I came down because I forgot to give you a lantern. Thank you very much for playing here. They thrive on music you know.”
Neville is a very courteous old-fashioned sweetie. Probably trained that way by his grandmother! He lit his wand so that we could see, and carried the cello and my music. He told me that Ron, Hermione and Harry were in bed, but that they had a plan of action for the next day, which they would need to fill me in on, as it involved me. He was very nice about my playing, saying he had been there for over an hour and had just been enjoying it.
“I don’t play anything myself, but I know quite a lot of music, as Gran is always listening to something or other. We go to concerts quite a lot. She has a box at the Royal Opera, and one at the Albert Hall that we can Apparate into. This was her grandfather’s cello. When she heard about your cello, she said at once that you were to have hers to play.”
I didn’t say anything. Words seemed inadequate for the favour she had bestowed upon me. I would need to think of something to show her how grateful I was. I felt a bit guilty for the earlier thoughts I had had regarding the same cello!
Neville handed me the music outside my bedroom door and hesitated.
“You will play some more to the plants won’t you?” he asked earnestly. “They really did enjoy it. I haven’t seen them so lively for a while. The ones who came close are all harmless too; they were just listening. They would be terribly upset to know you had been frightened.” He was leaning forward slightly, almost invading my personal space.
For a second I was taken aback, and almost forgot to breathe. The expression in his eyes was very intense. Then I realized he was attracted to me! I was absurdly flattered, but also confused. I don’t have that many men interested in me, and now was not a good time, as I was pretty sure my heart was irrevocably broken.
I smiled brightly and assured him I would love to play to his plants provided he made sure none of them actually started to grow up my legs. Neville smiled lightly in return, and said goodnight, but I knew that he had seen and recognized the rejection. He squared his shoulders as he walked down the corridor “ which gave him almost two inches added onto his height.
I crawled into bed broken hearted. Even though I wasn’t interested in Neville, I had hurt his feelings. After all, he didn’t know about Ben. I had kept thoughts of Ben at bay all day, but now there were no distractions. I tried desperately not to cry, but sending Neville away seemed to have put the lid on a perfectly disastrous day. No cello (well, alright, I did have a cello, but not MY cello), no wonderful Ben, and being forced to wound Neville all in one day was too much. I curled up into a fetal position, and bit my sheet so that I wouldn’t wake Hermione.