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“I — I don’t…” I trailed off. My mind went into overdrive. I want more than anything to be with you. I want people to be jealous of me and you and I want to give this a try. But I’ve spent the past four years examining people. Picking out everything I don’t want to be that they are. And I know if we go back to Hogwarts a couple, then, no matter what or how, we’ll both get hurt. He was watching me carefully. I fidgeted, chewing the inside of my lip. Truthfully, I wanted him. Something told me that this could work. But I was always a bit of coward.

"It's not smart to get in a relationship right now."

“I know," he said. And he looked at me in a strange sort of way.

“So we’re stopping what we never started?” I asked, something thick in my throat.

“I think so,” he replied, and carefully, he removed the jacket from his shoulders and drooped it around me. He gave me a smile and said, "It's freezing, let's go inside."

***

And so we stopped it. Of course every Weasley alive new about what had happened, so we couldn’t stop the spread of the kiss itself. It of course found Ivy’s ears first, and she has been glaring at me with even more venom than before. I didn’t even think that was possible. So Al and I have had a bit of trouble trying to make it clear that we are just friends to everyone, even though ‘just friends’ hits about as far from home as humanly possible. For instance, my arm touched his in the Great Hall yesterday and I about passed out.

But what can you do? I’ll just have to see what happens. I thought it would be harder; coming back to school after having confessed my attraction to Al and having to be the dreaded ‘just friends', but it has been surprisingly nice. Perhaps even a bit of an ego-boost. Ivy Osiris aside, most people have been looking at me differently, and for the good. Of course I’ve had my fair share of contemptuous glares from first and second year girls who consider any Potter boy to be something of a god, but I find that new people are taking on the dangerous task of striking up conversation with me, or even smiling at me in the corridors. And the strangest part? Sometimes I smile back. I suppose it feels sort of nice to be, well, known.

However much I wish Albus and me are a couple, for right now I’m content with doodling my dreams on parchment… I have a feeling that those doodles may be more than fantasy someday. And so the doodling and smiling commenced. Which brings us to today: I sit in Potions class ignoring Professor Heptor’s question about Wabbleypoofs or something.

As the bell rings to leave I pack away my things and hand Rose back the homework I have been copying. She looks startled.

“What — where did you get this?” she snaps, quickly putting it away as if I’m not already done copying it.

“I picked the lock to your safe,” I shrug.

Her eyes pop. “That’s private!” she squeaks.

“Nah, it’s just a bunch of things you don’t want me to know you have. There was Treacle Tart — it was delicious, by the way — essays, your blankie — “

Rose turns radish red. “I know what’s in there!” she hisses.

“Hi Laney,” Hugo Weasley says as he and Lily turn the corner and come face to face with Rose and me. I quickly take in how utterly miserable Lily appears. She barely even acknowledges us.

I grunt a somewhat ‘hello’ to Hugo and look inquiringly at Lily. “Hey, Lil, I haven’t seen you since, what? Day before New Year’s?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Can we talk tonight? Astronomy Tower?”

Rose looks huffy.

“Sure,” I shrug. “See you.”

They walk off looking slightly frazzled, Hugo putting his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly way.

“Wonder what that was about,” I mumble, looking over my shoulder at the two.

“I don’t know,” Rose says, “but I think it’s got something to do with Lily’s new boyfriend. Something is up, I can tell.”

I nod thoughtfully.

“Speaking of boyfriends —” Rose begins.

“NOPE!” I shout very abruptly. “No, Rose. We are not going here again — Al and I are not, I repeat, not a —“

“A couple?” she finishes.

“Precisely.”

“So you are?” she asks hopefully.

“NO!”

She twirls around and pushes me against the wall. “Ugh, Laney, you have to give me something! I know you and Al have got the hots for each other, you even kissed on New Year’s!"

“Rose, that is so lame,” I say, rolling my eyes. I grab her forearm and pull her onto the cold grounds. “I told you already,” I say in a hushed voice, “I do like Albus, but we aren't going to go out. That would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I know, I know,” she sighs.

“You know we’ll end up having a bad break up if we start going together at Hogwarts,” I add.

“Well it’s better than nothing!” she says.

“Rose,” I say, looking firmly at her, “I can’t do that. Al doesn’t deserve that. Hell, I don’t deserve that.”

She bites her lip. “So…so do it in secret!” she whispers furiously. “You don’t have to tell anyone! But Laney, you two have to do something! You are destined to be together! I just know it!”

“You get cheesier every second,” I grumble.

“Oh hush,” she says, smacking my shoulder.

I stare down at my glove. Secret. Could that work? Hell to the no, Laney Becks. That’s rubbish. A secret relationship? First of all: that’s crazy. And corny. If anyone found out you and Al were having a ‘secret love’ you’d be the laughing stalk of Hogwarts. I growl at my inner self.

You don’t think doing it in secret wouldn’t end in a bad break up?

I guess we could keep it secret until we were ready…. Laney! I command you to stop this right this moment! You and Al are not going to date in secret —

“Shut up!” I hiss.

“Uh, what?” Rose says with a brow raised.

“Oh, nothing,” I say awkwardly. “So about that Transfiguration essay…”

Within the next hour Rose and I have arrived at Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s another lesson on Patronuses.

“Now students,” Professor Herrigrove states in a weary tone of voice, “as you all know, your OWLs are arriving fast and furious — ”

At this, Rose grips the table and turns an unnatural shade of purple.

“— therefore,” Herrigrove continues, “we have got to really buckle down and get these Patronuses. Today will be spent entirely on getting them to take their animal forms.” He pauses, taking a box and passing the contents around the class. “I’m passing around chocolate so you’ll be able to keep up your good energy. Now, I expect you to have a fully functioning Patronus by exams. Get to work.”

I gulp, remembering back to the last lesson on Patronuses in which everyone but me had been able to produce something, in one way or another. “Just fantastic,” I mutter to Rose, pulling out my wand.

But Rose shushes me furiously, deep in focus on her Patronus.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to Dara, hoping for a better reaction, but am hardly surprised to see her bickering with Fred Weasley. I stare down at the charm bracelet on my wrist, feeling slightly ignored. But, as though he has read my mind, Albus Potter fills the seat next to me.

“Why hello there,” he says in a coy voice.

“Hmm,” I say, raising a brow at him, “you sure it’s wise for us to converse?”

“Probably not,” he laughs, “but I don’t mind.”

I have only spoken to Al once since we have returned, on the first night back. We had made further plans to ignore any type of chemistry between us. Has he forgotten this agreement?

“So,” I say, observing him carefully, “the rumours are still dead flying.”

He nods. “I’ve noticed,” he mumbles, looking less comfortable than he had been moments ago. Suddenly, something lights his eyes. He lowers his voice to nothing more than a whisper, “Hey, want to cut out of here?”

I stare at him. “What?”

He looks around with a sneaky expression on his face. “Want to leave? I’m dead bored. Besides, we can finally have some time to hangout, since most the school will be in class."

It takes a moment for me to understand what he’s suggesting. I’m stunned to hear this coming from good boy Al Potter. It seems so inviting; the opportunity to roam the quiet grounds with him... but I hesitate. I’m thinking back to the last time I cut class. I have been doing so well in school lately... do I want to ruin it?

But damn. How can you say no to those adorable green eyes?

I gag at this thought.

Merlin, I’ve gone soft!

How the hell we escape from the Defence Against the Dark Arts class I can't tell you. I am much more entranced by the fact that I am going to be alone with Al, and concerned with what is going to happen.

We slink silently through the castle, me leading the way to the Black Lake through a series of secret passageways I had discovered when cutting class last term.

“It’s getting warmer,” I note as we arrive beneath the beach trees. Merlin almighty, small talk really isn't my strong suit.

He nods, tossing a flattened stone into the water. Without looking at me he asks, “Are we alone?”

I stare awkwardly at him. “You’re not going to try and kill me are you?”

“No, can’t say I am,” he says sarcastically, flicking another stone at the velvety sheets of water.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say, peering around the grounds. “Although, that fly looks a bit shady, perhaps it’s Ivy as an Animagus?”

But before I can get another word out of my lame joke, Al pulls me over to him and plants his lips on mine.

I pretty much black out for the next few minutes.

When our lips break apart, I stumble backwards, leaning against a beach tree. Dear God.

He’s breathing heavily as well, glasses askew and untidy hair even more messy than usual.

I suppose I do get a bit flaily when snogging.

“Al Potter,” I wheeze, clutching at a stitch in my side (look how out of shape I am), “that was most definitely not part of the plan.”

He shakes his head wearily. “I know. And I’m sorry about that.” He mumbles something about adrenaline and shuts up.

Once I have huffed enough to catch my breath, I examine a loose thread on the hem of my sleeve. “It’s all right.”

“It’s proving harder than I thought,” he continues, looking at me with striking eyes. “You know, pretending to just be friends.”

“I guess,” I mumble absently, for something is ringing in my ears. The words Rose had said to me earlier today: “So…so do it in secret! You don’t have to tell anyone!”

“What are you thinking?” he asks, looking frustrated.

“Nothing,” I say firmly. A loud ringing sounds throughout the grounds. “That’ll be the bell. Walk me back up to the castle?”

A flash of scepticism appears in his eyes, but he agrees.

“Ouch!” I shout after taking a hard hit on the shoulder from Rose.

“I cannot believe you cut class again!” she shrieks.

We are sitting at dinner in the Great Hall and I have just divulged to Rose where I had disappeared to in the middle of Defence Against the Dark Arts class today.

“Rose!” I hiss frantically.

“Becks, you cut DADA today?” asks Fred, laughing.

“Oh shut up, Fred,” Dara snaps and then, turning to me, “I thought you were done with that, Laney.”

“You weren’t up on the Astronomy Tower again, were you?” asks Lily curiously. “I could’ve sworn I saw something flying off of it earlier…”

“I simply cannot believe you’d do that again, Laney Becks,” Rose continues, looking close to tears.

“No, guys —” I start, feeling very frustrated.

“I think it’s brilliant!” Hugo says, giving me a thumbs up.

“Very immature,” I hear Dom Weasley mutter from next to James, who is staring longingly at Charlotte Vinter, ignoring the conversation.

“And wait a moment,” Cater adds, looking mischievously from a very flushed Al to me, “Al cut too. What were you two up to…?”

Everyone falls silent.

“Oh my God!” Dara squeals. “I thought you two were nothing?” She giggles.

I feel myself turn deep red. Forcing eye contact I say, “We weren’t together.”

"This true Al?” Carter asks, looking less than convinced.

“Yeah, I was Owling my dad,” Albus says, trying hard not to look at me. “I’m going up to the common room. See you.”

And he walks from the hall without a second glance back.

Everyone goes back to their previous conversations except for me. I try not to look at Rose, who has a distinctly smug look on her face.

It’s not until we’re walking back to the common room later that night that she brings it up. “Decided to take my advice, eh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, annoyed.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she says slyly.

“No I don’t actually,” I snap. “Al and I are not a thing.” As we stop in front of the portrait hole I take my school bag and hold it out by the strap so it dangles in front of her. “Mind taking this upstairs for me? I’m supposed to meet Lily tonight.”

“All right,” she says slowly, taking it from me. “G’night.”

“Night."

I feel her eyes trained on me as I walk away.

When Lily finally makes it up to the Astronomy Tower it’s well past eight.

“Hello,” she says, walking over to the edge of the tower and glancing down. “Wow, that’s high,” she states.

“What an acute observation,” I mutter, leaning against a pillar. “So what’s up?”

She pauses, looking uncomfortable. “I wanted to — er — tell you about what happened on New Year’s.” She flushes deeply.

“Eurgh, Lily, I don’t want to hear about what you and Liam get up to when you’re alone —”

“It’s nothing like that,” she says defensively, going pink. “We split.”

I choke. “What?"

“Yeah,” she says, staring determinately in the other direction.

“What happened?” I ask, suddenly very uncomfortable in her presence.

And just like that, her eyes fill with tears. “I feel so stupid!” she whispers.

My eyes bulge. “Lily…?”

“I should’ve known!” she spits, kicking at the ground.

I remain frozen. What could possibly have happened to upset her this much? But wait, hadn’t she seemed fine all week? “I don’t understand,” I say slowly, “you’ve seemed fine —”

“Laney,” she says harshly, “I have not been fine. Think about it. When was the last time you saw me other than today?”

I rack my brain. “Er … the night before New Year’s, right?”

“Yes,” she says, eyes red. The only person I’ve been able to talk to is Hugo. And that’s only because he found me in the town square after that arse dumped me."

I stare in shock at Lily, innocent Lily. “Did he … did he cheat?”

“I wish,” she spits. “It’s taken me weeks to cope with this. I’ve only come out of my room today.”

“But I don’t understand, what did he —”

“Liam is in love with Charity Sloper from Ravenclaw,” she snaps. “He only asked me out to make her jealous.”

I gape at her. “That bastard,” I say.

She gives one cold laugh. “And get this: he didn’t dump me because he thought she was jealous enough, he did it because he was actually starting to like me, and he didn’t want me to get hurt.” She laughs again, but there is no sign of humour in her hazel eyes.

Suddenly a white hot rage fills me. “You have got to be joking,” I say through my teeth.

“Do I look kidding to you?” she asks angrily.

And then I’m running: I’m spiralling down the Astronomy Tower staircase, hardly hearing Lily’s call of “Laney?"

I fly down the corridors, practically foaming at the mouth. I can’t believe this! My inner self roars, brandishing an axe. I stuck my neck out for him! I got him together with Lily! I thought he was my friend!

“Spider Legs!” I yell at the Fat Lady as I come flying up to the portrait hole. Looking displeased at the time of my entrance, she swings open. I tear through the common room, which has dwindled down to only a few Gryffindors since my last visit, and dart straight up the boys’ stairs.

“Oi!” I hear Fred call out as I fly up the stairs.

I search angrily for the third year boys’ dorm, and when I’ve found it, I pause dramatically in front of the door before ripping it open by the brass handle. “You!” I snarl, pointing at Liam with a crazed glint in my eye. I storm over to him; grab him by the scruff of his pyjamas, and force him through the bathroom door, slamming it behind us.

“L-Laney!” he squeaks, looking alarmed. “What are ya’ doin’!”

I have him pinned against the restroom wall, trying to look ferocious. “Explain yourself before I — before I curse you into oblivion!” I pull my wand out and hold it to his neck. Good thing this boy doesn't have any classes with me, or else he'd know how much an empty threat this is.

“I doon know what yar talking aboot!” he says, a quiver in his voice. “I swear!”

“Does the name Lily ring a bell?” I bellow at him.

His face falls. “I — oh,” he says sadly. “Yeah.”

I drop my hold on him and pace around the room. “How could you do this to her, Liam?” I ask viciously. “After you begged me to put in a good word for you! And what do you do? You break her heart! Just because of some plan to get some Ravenclaw slag to like you? That’s sick!”

“Laney, I — I feel horrible aboot it, ya’ gotta believe meh!” He looks pleadingly at me.

“I thought you were better than this, Scott,” I snap. “But you aren’t. You had this plan from the beginning. You totally fooled me.”

“Will ya’ joost lemmeh expleen meself?” he asks angrily.

I narrow my eyes. “Fine.”

He adjusts his pyjamas nervously. “I’m in love with Charity Sloper, have been fuh three years. She barely noticed meh, I was desperate. I knew Lily would make her jealous; she’s very pretty, so I asked her oot. I know it’s horrible. But I can’t help meself, I love Charity and I had to get her somehow.”

“There are other ways to do that!” I snap.

He shakes his head. “I know, Laney, I know. But this joost seemed easiest. I’m not proud of it, I’m really not.”

“But you started to like her!” I interject. “And she liked you back! Why mess that up!"

“Because I love Charity!” he shouts at me.

Well, that shuts me up.

“I was overcome with guilt, so I came clean tah Lily. Don’t yah know what it’s like to be in love, Laney?” His eyes are growing red. At this sight, my anger dies. “I would do anythin’ for Charity, even if it means hurtin’ Lily. And I know it soonds horrible, but it’s the truth — that’s what love is.”

He looks defiantly at me.

I groan. “Come here,” I say pulling him into a hug. “And look, this is damn rare, so count yourself lucky,” I point out. “Lily’ll be fine. You and Charity will be together someday soon.” And I add painfully, “You did the right thing.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, shaking his head. “I never wanted tuh hurt her.”

“I know,” I reply. “Just stay away from her, okay?”

He nods sadly.

I push him off of me, flattening my robes and straightening my hair. “That’s … that’s that, then,” I mutter, pulling the door open. “See you, Liam.”

As I walk from the third year boys’ dormitory I hear Liam’s dorm mates wildly questioning him.

“Was that a booty call?” one asks.

“Did you just shag her?” asks another.

“Ah, shut oop,” Liam says, and I laugh, closing the door behind me.

Job well done.

Author's Note:

Well, here it is! I am so sorry it's been like two months since my last update. I genuinely was trying -- I was just having a lot of trouble writing it. I hope it's all right! And trust me -- this is not the end of Al and Laney. If you couldn't tell, she's starting to get an [bad] idea of a way to make things work between them. I thought this chapter was pretty funny. I made Laney very eccentric in this. I have to tie up some loose ends still that I have not touched on in a while: Like Laney's parent's letter, and Riley O'Malley. Just know I have a plan for everything, and I'm not going to forget these important plot lines. And if you haven't noticed: this story has a whole hell of a lot.

Remember to review! It's very important to me! And even though it may take me a bit, I do respond to every single one of my reviews. Remember to keep them 12+ (for all ages). So don't say that Laney's a fucking bitch-osuarous. Thanks!

Ash

EDIT: 7/27/2011

Chapter 13: Snap Decision
[View Online] [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING AND EVERYTHING! No. Wait. Just nothing. But LANEY! Yeah, she's mine....

Stunning image by justonemorefic at TDA.

***

“OI, POTTER! GET A MOVE ON, WILL YOU? CATCH THAT SNITCH!”

I swoop through the air, Quaffle in hand, barely missing a shouting James Potter. He is so concerned over what everyone else is doing that he’s stalled in mid-air calling out orders to whoever he lays eyes on.

Albus halts his chase of the Snitch, looking like he has just swallowed a can of red hot badger piss. “You’re a Potter too, you idiotic wanker!”

“Ah, shut up, the pair of yah,” shouts Fred, brandishing his Beater’s bat.

I toss the Quaffle to Charlotte, nearly colliding with Riley O’Malley, Rose’s love interest, in my efforts. He throws me a look of deepest contempt, gives me a rude hand gesture, and shoots off in the other direction.

Prat.

It’s the usual stress of any Quidditch match; even though we are winning by more than a fifty points, James still has his frilly little lady undies in a bunch and the team is becoming tenser every second.

I crane my neck around, searching for Al. He has been on my mind all match. It’s been a full two weeks nice our last experiment with snogging, and I’m starting to get anxious. What if he forgets about me? About us? What if he moves on to more interesting girls like that Coral he dated at the beginning of the year? I grind my teeth. It has been becoming increasingly more difficult not to be with him. I know what will happen if we date: we’ll break up. That’s what Hogwarts does to couples. There are only rare occasions where it all works out: they get married, have kids, and live happily ever after. And maybe that could be Al and me…. But who am I kidding? I’m no happily-ever-after kind of girl. But then again, I love him. Why not be with him?

My thoughts whir on as I absentmindedly continue to play Quidditch. But as I am nearly Bludgered in the head, I decide it’s best to focus more on the match.

After twenty more minutes of gruelling gameplay, we’ve won.

“And Albus Potter has caught the Snitch!” bellows Rhys Tatum, the Ravenclaw announcer. “And a truly unstoppable team this year, Gryffindor is. Better luck next time, Hufflepuff. Score ends at 280 to 90. This is Rhys Tatum, signing off.”

I swoop easily down to the ground, hopping off my Quickskip 3000 and stretching.

James pats my shoulder affectionately. “Good job out there, Becksy!” he says, beaming. “You scored a lot of points today!”

I flick invisible dirt off of my shoulder. “You know, heh, I do what I do.”

He raises a brow at me. “Eh — okay then.”

We shake hands with the Hufflepuff team (me deliberately missing Riley O’Malley’s hand) and duck into the changing rooms.

“Great game, guys,” James says enthusiastically, high fiving Fred. “Really great.”

“You didn’t seem so sure of that when I was seeking the Snitch a few minutes ago,” Al snaps at him, pulling off his Quidditch robes.

“Yeah, James, quit being such a prat in the air, will you?” adds Lily venomously. She has been exceedingly snappish since the whole Liam bit a few weeks ago. She's about as far away from poor Liam as the locker room allows.

James mumbles a retort but finishes changing quickly and heads from the room. A few minutes pass and everyone is gone except for me, sitting here on a bench, trying to get a green sweater on over my head.

“Damn thing,” I mutter, finally pulling it on. I can never get sweaters on. Do I just have a big head or something?

And then I hear a quiet chuckle and I whirl around to face Al, who’s leaning against the lockers with a smirk on his face.

“Merlin’s arse!” I squeak, startled by the appearance of him. “I thought I was alone!”

“Nope,” he replies, walking towards me. “I saw you struggling with that shirt and thought it’d be a while.”

I glare at him. “Funny,” I say, feigning mock annoyance.

He laughs, taking my hand and pulling me into him. Our lips move together like water, his hands gently on my hair, mine around his neck. About two minutes into this, I pull away. “I’m going to get carried away,” I say, panting slightly. “You can’t do this to me,” I grumble, “I swear my heart is about to beat through my chest.”

He bursts into laughter and I glare at him. “Seriously!” I say, grabbing my things.

He shakes his head, still laughing. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll walk you up to lunch.”

We walk up to the castle bearing our Quidditch bags, both slightly flustered by the recent events that took place in the changing rooms. As we walk, I take the time to notice just how beautiful and warm it is for a day in mid-January. And for once, I actually feel kind of happy. It’s like the Birthday Fairy has struck again with all her fairyful magic, making my life easier one sparkle at a time.

I know, I’m becoming so philosophical, aren’t I?

Ahem.

As we enter the school, I head straight for the Great Hall, but Albus stops me. “Did you see that?” he asks suddenly, looking sharply at towards a corridor next to the Great Hall.

“Er – no, I didn’t,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “Lunch?” I ask, looking longingly towards the Great Hall.

“No, hang on a second,” Al says, dragging me away from my meal.

I whimper a bit, picturing my Treacle Tart, as he pulls me down the corridor. “Erm, Al?” I say with a little cough. “Where exactly are you –”

“Wait – shhh,” he says, pulling us to a stop outside an empty classroom. And he whis-pers, “I just saw Charlotte and James running down here and she looked pissed.”

I stare in shock at him. “Nosy, are we?” I say, brows raised.

“He’s in my business all the time,” Al snaps. “Besides, I want to know what’s up with them … remember when we saw them snogging at Christmas?”

I nod.

“Well something’s changed since then and I want to know what it is,” he says quietly. And then he pauses, watching me carefully. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” I whisper, “I think it’s hilarious… Surprising, sure, but definitely hilarious.”

He gives me a squinty eyed smile. How adorable.

I watch as he slowly pushes open the door.

“Come on Charlotte, please –”

“No James, it was just a onetime thing. A fling,” Charlotte snaps, making for the door-way, but James stops her.

“I know you have feelings for me, Charlotte,” he says softly, a slight sense of urgency in his voice.

She hesitates before hissing, “Maybe so James, but I don’t want to feel that way, don’t you get it? You’re an egocentric pig!”

Al and I exchange weary looks. I can practically taste the hurt emulating from the room.

“I love you Charlotte,” James says after a moment, so quietly I have to strain to hear it. I can sense the discomfort he feels in stating this.

“Don’t say that!” she hisses.

“But –”

“If you really felt that way then you would’ve never said those things to your mates!” she says coldly. “Don’t you understand? Don’t you see how this makes me feel like I’m just another number to you?”

“But you aren’t just another number to me,” James says pleadingly. “Charlotte, you’ve got to understand – I was just kidding, I would never think that!”

“You’re two-faced, James,” she spits, going pink in the face. “You tell all your friends about how you’re going to shag brainy, loser Charlotte Vinter and then coming running along to me acting like everything’s just fine and freaking dandy? Well let me tell you something, James Potter, I am not just another weak, pathetic trophy for you to flaunt to your mates. If you gave a damn about me or us, we’d be together right now.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” he says weakly.

“Oh I believe that you love, me, I do,” she says venomously. “But if you think what you’ve done is okay, then you have got a lot of learning to do, James Potter.”

“Charlotte, I don’t, really,” he says. “I know I did the wrong thing. You’re just so different from my friends. They wouldn’t understand –”

“What? I’m too average for them, then? Too ugly? What is it?”

“No! It’s that you aren’t some idiotic bimbo. You care about your marks and about Quidditch, unlike most girls. You’re smart and beautiful –“

“Stop,” she says. “Stop right there. This is what you do, James. You love the chase. You love going after girls who would never give you a chance because it gives you a thrill. I’ve seen how you play all these girls, telling them they are ‘smart and beautiful.’ But I see through you, James. I know that you just want one thing.” She rips her arm from his. “And the truth is, you will never shag me. Not in your life.”

And she storms from the room, hardly taking any notice in Al or me.

“Charlotte, stop!” James shouts, flying after her. He passes by us without a second glance, sprinting after Charlotte, her black hair dancing behind her.

Al and I gape at each other.

“I can’t believe I’m saying thing,” I say after a moment, “but that actually sounded genuine. I think James really is in love with Charlotte.”

Al shakes his head miserably. “He’s such an idiot prick,” he groans. “I cannot believe he said that to his mates. He’s lost her for good.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah … er, Albus?”

“Yeah?” he says, looking up at me.

“See, I just played Quidditch for four and a half hours. If I don’t eat soon, there’s an eighty-three per cent chance I am going to go into a food deprivation shock.”

He laughs. “Come on, Becks, let’s get you some Treacle Tart.”

It’s around half past seven and I’m sitting in the common room with Dara, working on our Herbology homework. Fred and Carter are behind us playing a rousing game of Exploding Snap (much to Dara’s dismay. Generally anytime Fred is enjoying himself she seems to be on edge) and Lily and Hugo are spread across the ornate rug, teasing Presto with a piece of string.

I’m so bored from writing my essay that I’ve taken to just planting my face down in the seam of the book and hoping to die or implode or something. “I don’t think I can take much more of this,” I groan, drooling slightly onto A Thousand Herbs and Fungi.

“Eurgh, Laney, that’s disgusting,” Dara points out, making a face. She begins casting drying charms over her newly vibrant nails.

“Wait a second,” I say, glaring accusingly at her, “have you been painting your nails this whole time?”

“Yes,” she says nonchalantly, giggling a bit. “Aren’t they beaut –”

“Tergeo.”

“Laney!” she shrieks, gaping down at her colourless nails in horror.

I grumble, dip my quill in ink, and continue to write my essay.

“What’s wrong, Dara-Bear?” Fred asks mockingly from behind us. “Chip a nail?”

Dara’s face contorts into a terrifying you’re dead to me kind of look. “Say that again, Weasley, and I’ll curse that stupid smirk right off your face!”

“As if you knew the magic to do it,” he throws back, glaring at her.

“SHUT UP!” I shout. “God, you two never stop, do you? Do you need to be put in timeouts? There are plenty of corners in here.”

Dara rolls her eyes.

“Hi!” I hear someone say very exuberantly.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to see Daniel staring goofily at me. “What do you wa –”

“Dara?” he asks, cutting me off.

My jaw drops open. Did he just interrupt me?

“Yes?” she replies, hardly looking up from repainting her nails.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

Everyone goes silent, Dara gaping at him. She looks at me, eyes wides and then back to him. I sit, stalk stll. “Yes!” she says very quickly, popping up. She grabs his hand, absolutely beaming. “Of course I will go out with you!” She looks back at me, practically bubbling with excitement. All I can do is stare in shock. Is this really happening?

“Great!” Daniel says, looking down at their entwined hands in surprise. He looks over at me in an odd sort of way. A sort of “jealous, yet?” kind of look.

I gulp. This is bad.

“I always wanted you to ask me out!” Dara continues to squeak, not noticing the ex-change between Daniel and me.

“NO!” someone bellows, causing everyone to go dead quiet once more.

I turn around to find Fred Weasley, standing up, looking really bloody scary. He’s gripping the Exploding Snap game board with such tenacity that it’s actually broken in half.

“Excuse me?” Dara asks, eyes wide.

Fred’s cheeks go slightly pink with embarrassment. “N-Never mind,” he mumbles, tossing the game board down and vanishing up the boys’ stairs.

I narrow my eyes at his disappearing figure. Do I detect jealousy?

Meanwhile Dara and Daniel have begun snogging. And not a normal snog. They look like a pair conjoined plungers. I make a face.

“Oh dear,” squeaks Rose as she takes the seat next to me. “When did that happen?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” I mumble, looking away from the newfound couple. I take note in Rose’s anxious expression. “What’s up?”

She fiddles her thumbs. “Remember that Riley boy who asked me to the Hufflepuff term party?”

“Vividly,” I grunt.

“Well, that party is tonight,” she says nervously.

“Oh,” I reply. “Are you going?”

“Well, yes, I mean, I should, right?”

“Probably, if you agreed to go,” I shrug, dipping my quill in ink.

“I’m supposed to meet him in front of the Hufflepuff common room at eight.”

I look up at her, noting that she’s still wearing her school robes. “Rose, it’s the weekend, why are you wearing those robes? You weren’t going to try and wear that to the party, were you?”

“I just don’t know what to wear,” she whispers, ears going red.

I sigh. “Come on, I’ll help you find something.”

“That’s perfect,” Chaz Jacobs says with a smile, fixing the last soft curl of Rose’s hair.

We ran into her on the way into the dorm room. She was much more of a help in finding an outfit for Rose – mostly because I only really own jeans and sweaters, nothing worth wearing to a party. I gave most of my dresses to Dara anyway.

“Thank you so much Chaz!” Rose says, taking a three-sixty view of her outfit. “You don’t think I look like I’m trying too hard, do you?”

“Not at all,” Chaz says, beaming at her.

“Yeah, Rose, you look like classiest slag I have ever seen,” I grin at her. She throws me a look. “Hey,” I say, glancing at my watch, “it’s ten til eight, we should go.”

“You’re right,” she says, taking one last nervous look at her reflection, “let’s go. Thanks again, Chaz!”

“Sure,” Chaz says, smiling brightly at her. “Have fun and let me know how it goes!”

We exit the common room five minutes later, Rose nervously biting her fingernails. She asked me to walk her down to the party because she was thought she wouldn’t be able to do it by herself. I don’t blame her – she’d probably end up in the library if left to her own decisions.

Once we’re in front of the Hufflepuff common room, I stop and turn to her. “Listen Rose,” I say, not looking her in the eye. “Be careful with this guy, all right?”

She smiles. “You don’t have to worry, Laney, Riley’s a great guy. I’m not going to drink, anyway.”

“Right,” I say, and, so quietly it’s barely a whisper, “that’s what I said.”

“Rose.” Riley O’Malley steps out of the portrait hole next second, smiling at Rose like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.

I narrow my eyes.

“Hi,” Rose says quietly, nervously looking at her shoes.

“Ya’ look beautiful,” says Riley, taking her hand.

Their eyes are locked and I can tell that’s my cue to leave, so I smile briefly at Rose and turn on my heel.

“Hey, why don’ ya’ stay a while?” Riley says after me. And he adds, “I’m sure there’s someone who would dance with ya.’”

I pause, grinding my teeth. God, he’s irritating. Trying to keep my composure, I turn around and say with a wry smile, “Sorry, but I don’t have such a great track record with parties. No thanks.”

Rose smiles. “See you later Laney!” She heads through the portrait hole.

However, Riley pauses before following. He says, “Don’ bother waitin’ up for her,” gives me one, coy smile and disappears after Rose.

“Ouch,” I mutter, realising just how hard I’ve been clenching my fists.

“Impressive,” comes a dull voice.

I turn around to see the pale, bored looking friend that I had met the first day Riley ap-proached Rose. He’s gesturing at my white knuckles, looking amused.

“What exactly is impressive, might I ask?” I say snappishly, not really in the mood for witty banter.

“Well for starters, you didn’t punch him in the face or curse his bollocks off,” he says, shrugging. “I come pretty close to that every day, but I don’t usually see people who tol-erate his crap.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “I’m only doing it for my friend…. Speaking of which, aren’t you his friend?”

“More or less,” he replies, and then, after a moment, “I’m Sterling Jones, what’s your name?”

“Laney Becks.”

He shakes my hand.

“Listen, I’m supposed to be serving drinks at that party, but I’m thinking of ditching. Interested in joining me?” He smiles slightly, his grey eyes brightening.

I hesitate. It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday: Lily’s with Hugo, Al’s serving a detention, Rose is at a party, Dara is otherwise involved, and here I am, facing a potentially interesting night. “All right,” I shrug. “Let’s hangout.”

“Well, we met in our dorm room on the first night of school. We both liked Quidditch so we sort of meshed. He didn’t become such a dickhead until fourth year when he made Quidditch captain,” Sterling says, shrugging.

We’re sitting inside greenhouse two, which Sterling broke into using a complex spell I didn’t recognize. I’m sitting on top of an empty table, drinking from a bottle of wine we nicked from the Hufflepuff party, and Sterling’s making Venomous Tentacula leaves float with his wand.

“So why do you put up with his crap?” I ask, feeling the wine burning my throat. I pass the bottle to him and he swigs some down.

“Because he’s not such a dick deep down,” he replies, leaning his head against the wall. “Just with Quidditch … and girls,” he adds quietly.

“You know, that bastard flicked me off at the match this morning,” I recall, my dislike for this Riley character growing ever more.

He laughs. “I saw that. See? Quidditch and girls. It’s bloody annoying.”

I snort. “God, I just wish Rose could see it!” I stand up on the table and walk around, balancing.

“Is that her name? Rose?”

“Yeah,” reply, taking back the wine bottle.

“Man, I feel sorry for her,” he says, shaking his head.

I stop in my tracks. “What?”

He looks at me strangely. “He’s just using her.”

I can practically feel my blood begin to boil. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “A bunch of our dorm mates bet him he couldn’t get into a Wea-sley’s pants.” And after a moment he adds, “Er – not me though.”

“Damn him!” I hiss, kicking the table. “He’s so frustrating!

“What’s wrong?” Sterling asks, looking alarmed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, swallowing more wine. “You’re seventh years – Rose is all blissed out on that fact. She’s never going to believe me when I tell her! Dammit!”

He steps forward. “I’ll say something to him. I’ll make him stop.”

I look at him, the alcohol twirling my vision. Is it just me, or is this bloke starting to flirt with me?

He steps forward even more, his hand slipping into mine. “You’re really pretty, you know,” he says, leaning into me.

And it happens. Our lips touch and I sky-rocket backwards. “Woah there,” I say cau-tiously, “what are you doing?”

He looks uncomfortable. “I’m sorry – I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’m taken,” I mutter dishonestly. “Listen, thanks for the drink, but I gotta go.” I look down, realising that his hand is still in mine and I suddenly feel strange pity for this guy. I squeeze his hand and smile. “I don’t know if I’ll make it – walk me up to my dorm?”

He grins. “Sure. And sorry, alcohol makes me a bit braver than usual.”

“It’s known to do that,” I sigh, knowing this all too well. “Come on, let’s go.”

Bacon. Focus on the bacon, Laney.

I stare stressfully at the piece of floppy, greasy bacon dangling from the end of my fork. I’m clenching my jaw so hard little spots of colour are sprinkling my vision. I’m trying as hard as humanly possible to not hear what Rose is talking about: the slow dance, the way his hand stayed in hers the whole night, the sip of firewhiskey she had, the good-night kiss… I can hardly take the anxiety of knowing what I know. Knowing that this boy Rose is so quickly and heavily falling for is only doing it on a bet.

I continue to bore my eyes into the piece of pig, trying to occupy my mind. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe Sterling heard wrong. But it doesn’t change the fact that I know what I know, and it’s ripping me apart. If I tell Rose, she’ll react in one of two ways: she’ll either freak out and demolish our friendship, making me out to seem jealous and petty, or she’ll be so hurt and embarrassed she’ll take her anger out on me.

Either way, I’m at a loss.

“It was just so wonderful – everything,” she finishes, finally taking a bite of her breakfast.

“I’m happy for you, Roe,” Al says, grinning at her, but otherwise flipping a page in his Daily Seeker magazine.

Meanwhile, I turn to see Dara and Daniel intertwined to the left of me, snogging like a pair of congealed baboons.

“Merlin, you’d think it’s mating season over there,” mutters Lily, who has been justifiably bitter towards relationships for a while now. Hugo snorts.

Me? I keep staring at the bacon.

Fred stabs moodily at his food, every once in a while throwing death glares towards the kissing couple. “Disgusting,” he growls to Carter, eating an egg so savagely he looks nearly cannibalistic.

“I dunno,” mumbles Al, “I kind of feel bad for Ivy now. All she does these days is stalk around Hogwarts glaring at everyone in sight.”

“It serves her right,” I snap. “She’s a bitch.”

“Laney!” Rose says, looking alarmed.

I sigh. “Sorry Rose” – turning back to Al – “Ivy’s a female dog.”

We all leave the Great Hall to go up to the common room a few minutes later, and as if on cue, Rose begins talk of Riley again.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I grumble, grabbing Al roughly by the arm and pulling him into a broom cupboard. “I need to talk to you,” I say once we’re alone.

He smiles coyly. “Talk, eh?” he asks, entwining our fingers and pressing his lips to mine.

I pull away. “Good God, Potter, keep it in your pants,” I snap.

He looks confused. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Rose,” I say, noticing that my foot is in a bucket.

“What about her?” he asks, looking perplexed.

And so I explain the story of Sterling (deliberately leaving out the part about him trying to kiss me). When I’ve finished, I stare anxiously at him.

“And … and you’re sure this is true?” Al asks seriously, appearing disgruntled.

“Nearly positive. You’d believe me if you’d have met the bloke,” I reply earnestly.

“Merlin,” he says, shaking his head.

“So … what do we do?” I ask. “Do I tell her?”

“I – no,” he says finally. “Let’s just – just wait a while. Rose is pretty sensitive with this sort of thing – I’m not sure it’d get us anywhere besides a fight if we brought it up now. Let’s just see how it plays out. We’ll get involved if we need to.”

“But it’s killing me, Al,” I say quietly. “The bloke’s such a dickhead, and he’s trying to get in Rose’s knickers!”

Al looks sombre. “I know… listen, I’ll watch them – him especially. I’ll step in if I have to. I’ve known Rose longer than anyone – I’ll know how to get her to forgive me if I have to.”

I sigh sadly. “You’re a great guy, Al,” I mumble, forcing a small smile. “Thanks.”

He smiles back, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Can we snog now?”

I feign mock annoyance. “Oh, if we must.”

I’m sitting in Muggle Studies actually listening to Professor Peppercorn rant about bat-teries and remote controllers for once. Granted, there’s the usual cloudy fog over my attention span (thanks to my severe ADD), but I’ve been finding lately that by actually listening to what my teachers have to yammer about, I’m actually beginning to retain some information. My marks, which were nearly at Troll in first term, have now settled between Poor and Acceptable, something I have been most proud of. And it’s not just me who has begun improving in school; both Fred and Dara have achieved higher marks as of late.

Of course it’s only because of our OWLs, which are looming like heavy weights on our shoulders. Up until now I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that this is a make or break year. But I’m starting feel pressure I have never felt before to achieve well. The thought of my need to learn to produce a Patronus causes me to shudder in my seat. That’s going to be a hard task, that not even brilliant Rose can help me with.

Not to mention I’ve been scheduled to meet with Professor Wilkins next week to discuss my options for after Hogwarts. I gulp. Being perfectly honest, I can’t see myself in any Ministry job or Quidditch team or newspaper as a career.

Just great. I’ll have to be a cat lady. But I doubt Presto would even stay with me for long if I got to that point.

Wait a second – dammit, I’ve lost focus again!

I try to make sense of where Professor Peppercorn has gotten to in his lecture.

“And then, after they’ve inserted the battery into the back of the device, they twist the knob four times to make it twirl and swing,” he says, absentmindedly doing a sort of jig.

I shake my head in confusion, glancing down at my notes.

-Batteries: used for most Muggle devices
-Can be used to power motor vehicles, like Albus Potter or cars
-Have a life of about six Patronuses, sometimes more
-You shouldn’t, however, eat them, for they are Troll for your digestive system
-They are snoggable – meaning one can reuse them after a particular Muggle process
-They were invented by Laney Potter

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I crumble the notes in my fist and try desperately to retune my attention to the lesson.

“That concludes the lecture, then!” Professor Peppercorn says giddily, causing me to nearly explode with frustration. “Now, let’s see … Miss Osiris, yes, can you reiterate to the class when and where the battery was invented?”

I glimpse Icy from the corner of my eye, looking quite abashed at being called on. “I – um, sorry, could you repeat the question?” She looks tired and hazy – eyes slightly red. She isn’t wearing any make up and her hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. In short, she looks like hell.

“I asked,” says Professor Peppercorn, looking irritated, “whether you could tell the class when and where the battery was invented.”

She flushes a deep red. “I’m sorry, but I d-don’t know.”

It’s silent in the class.

“Haven’t been paying attention, I see,” titters Peppercorn, making a note on a piece of parchment. Ivy looks close to tears.

Once the bell rings, she is the first out of the classroom, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve as she goes.

Odd. Really odd.

After Muggle Studies I head outside with Rose to enjoy some fresh air. And of course, as if on cue, the second we’re outside, Riley comes along and wisps her away, leaving me alone. I glare after the pair of them, mumbling darkly to myself as I set off towards the beach trees.

“Hi Becks,” Carter says as I meet him by the Black Lake.

“Hey,” I reply. Taking note in a moody looking Fred. “What’s up with him?” I ask with a knitted brow.

Carter laughs. “Didn’t you see?” He gestures towards a snogging couple a little ways behind me.

“Oh,” I say, observing Dara and Daniel with slight disgust. But the sight of their blissful happiness gives me a sudden, weird feeling. Jealously.

And not of Dara being with Daniel (not jealous over that in a million years), but jealous that they get to be together and Al and I don’t. Something burns inside me. I have to find Al.

“Carter?” I ask quickly. “Have you seen Albus?”

“Er – yeah, Laney, I think he’s over there by the greenhouses.” He gestures over my right shoulder. “Longbottom asked him to do a Herbology lecture to a bunch of first years, remember? Since he’s like top of our class…”

“Thanks,” I say, whipping around and hurrying off in the direction he pointed. My mind is filled with a sudden, snap decision that I have decided to act on. My sprinting comes to a stop as I see him standing in front of a group of first years, demonstrating how to properly plant a Tobuskon Turnip.

“And then you’ve got to pat it around the roots so it’s nice and comfortable,” he says, winking.

Seeing that boyish smile, the way his hair is messy from a cool breeze, and his piercing green eyes watching the twelve year olds so kindly brings a new fire in me that I never knew I had. I dash up to him, hardly taking notice in his surprise or the exclamations of the startled first years, and kiss him furiously, pulling my fingers through his hair.

“I want to be with you,” I say in whisper.

“Laney –”

“No,” I say harshly. “I want to be with you, Al. I don’t want to do it in secret or pretend that we are nothing. I don’t want to keep hiding in broom cupboards with you and acting like I don’t think about you every damn second!”

He laughs, kissing me again. “I want to be with you too, Laney.”

The first years giggle and squeal.

“This is going to work,” I say more to myself than anyone. “It’s you and me. I know it will.”

He looks at me with a strange expression, one I’ve never seen him adapt before. “There’s more truth in that than you know,” he says, looking me directly in the eye.

I grab his hand, entwining our fingers. “I figured,” I sigh. “Now, are you ready to start some rumours?” I ask suggestively.

“Oh, most definitely,” he replies.

“Good,” I whisper with a wink. “Now, you lot,” I say firmly to the twelve year olds, “go and tell everyone you know of this. Laney Becks and Al Potter are together. Got it?”

They nod vigorously and run off, gossiping behind their hands about what they have just witnessed.

I turn back to Al, smiling. “There. This is how it should be. Gossip, jealously, and snog-ging.”

“You’re stark, raving mad, Laney Becks,” he says, pulling me closer to him.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into then,” I say, and kissing his cheek.

“Oh no, Laney,” he says quietly, “actually, I don’t have a damn idea. And that’s exactly how I want it to be.”

Author's Note: Look how happy I've been making you guys lately! JO started out so much more depressing and cynical, I swear. Haha.

I hope you liked it! Please, please review! It means a lot to me. I want reactions! :D

Love you,

ash

Chapter 14: Truth or Spork
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* * *

“Could you please get that disturbingly filthy wand of yours away from my potion?” Scorpius Malfoy says to me in a snooty tone, his nose upturned.

Smarmy Scorpius Malfoy is smarmy.

And boy do I hate having to work with him in Potions class. From time to time Professor Heptor seems to find it humorous to pair us up with the Slytherins. And I always get stuck working with this slimy, snotty tosser.

However! Nothing, I repeat, nothing, can get me down today. Or this week, or last week. Al and I have been so blissfully happy that I can’t even attempt to be snarky, pessimistic, or even a little bit negative.

Scorpius Malfoy being a prat? No problem. That’s nothing a little Muffliato charm can’t fix.

I sink back into my seat, allowing Scorpius to finish our potion all by his lonesome. Not like he wants my half-blood help anyway. Al is sitting just in front of me working with Lorcan Scamander, perhaps the only Slytherin who doesn’t make me want to vomit. My mind is swimming with memories of our last good snog (this morning on the Quidditch pitch. No idea how we ended up there) and I’m wondering vaguely if he’s thinking about the same thing.

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts grounds have finally warmed up a bit. As February has rolled in, we’ve actually been able to comfortably roam the grounds (i.e. no wool jackets) and spend more time outside. Rose is still dating Ri-Slime and still blissfully unaware of his treachery. I have been expressing my stress over this to Al very often, begging him to let me tell her the truth. But of course he just keeps telling me to let things run their course.

I’ve even tried to corner Sterling a few times to get the details on whether or not Riley’s still after Rose’s knickers. And, most unfortunately, the answer has been the same firm ‘yes’ as it was before. I’m starting to get a funny feeling about this Sterling bloke, too, for he said he would make Riley change his mind, but that hasn’t happened yet.

Dara was thrilled to find out that Al and I are a thing, squealing about double dates to Hogsmeade and what-not, a private joke for Al and me. It’s a little unsettling that Dara and Daniel are still going together. And the worst part? Trying to ignore the looks Daniel continues to throw at me every time he and Dara are together. I’m hoping to God he’s not trying to make me jealous.

I mean, firstly, it’s never going to happen, bud. And secondly, if Dara ever found out, it’d be the end of our friendship forever. She’d be humiliated.

“I say, do you have no shame?” Scorpius spits at me.

I blink, having just been pulled out of my reverie. “What?”

He jabs a cautious finger at my side of the potion. “You’re doing it all wrong. Great Scott, what are you, a hippogriff?”

I lean back slightly, smirking. I take in his sublime posture and silk neck scarf. “What? Jealous that I’m snogging Al and not you?”

He goes bright pink.

When the bell rings, I pop up, grabbing Al’s hand. “Last class of the day,” I mumble to him, “wanna go up to the common room?” I add suggestively.

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re willing to skip a meal?”

Drat.

I hadn’t thought of that.

I chew the inside of my lip, thinking hard. Empty common room or Treacle Tart? This is a toughy.

“Yes,” I finally reply, only really halfway decided.

“Common room it is then,” he chuckles, pulling me out of the classroom and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“I don’t think anyone wants to see that,” Ivy says, ploughing through us and stalking off in the other direction.

“Don’t react, Laney. Don’t do it,” I mutter to myself, bending down to pick up the mound of books I’ve dropped.

“Here, let me,” Al says, grabbing the books and dumping them into my bag. He helps me up, kissing my cheek.

I notice his concerned expression. “What’s wrong?” I ask, crinkling my brow.

“I’m worried about her,” he says darkly.

As much as I’d like to, I can’t disagree. I watch her disappear around the corner of the corridor. “She cried in Muggle Studies the other day,” I point out. “Do you think it’s because of us…?”

Al sighs. “Yeah. I do.”

We head up the many staircases, kissing as we go, all mention of Ivy forgotten. The common room is empty when we arrive, just as anticipated. I drop my bag down on the ornate rug and belly flop down onto the couch, groaning slightly at the whiplash in my neck. Al laughs, sitting down on the rug in front of me.

“You know,” I say thoughtfully, “my parents used to tell me about relationships and what they were like.”

“Really?” asks Al, looking amused.

“Yeah,” I reply, considering this. “They always knew what to say.”

“Do you miss them?” he asks me, not unkindly.

Brave of him. Not many dare delve into Laney Becks’ parental territory.

“No,” I say without hesitation. “Yeah, I miss having a family. But not them.”

He grabs my hand. “Come here,” he says, pulling me down onto the floor with him and kissing me. “They’re idiots ditching you.”

“I know.” I laugh slightly, kissing him back. “Don’t get too carried away like Daniel and Dara do though,” I add, taking note in the predicament we’re in. Might be kind of odd having Lily trod on us, snogging on the floor.

“That reminds me!” He pulls me up from the ground, dragging me to the boys’ staircase.

“Woah there,” I sputter, “where are we going?” I look nervously up the stairs. Boy better not be thinking what I think he’s thinking….

“I want to show you my dorm,” he says, smiling. “What’s wrong?”

I cough a little. Dorm? That’s got a bed in it. No, that’s got about five beds in it. Al isn’t like that, though. He’s a good guy. We have boundaries, too. And I’ve been lenient! I snog the lights out of this boy every day and he still wants more…?

After a moment of observing me, I see the realisation. The ding! moment when he understands what I’m thinking. And to my great surprise, he laughs.

“Why are you laughing?” I say defensively, my cheeks heating.

He shakes his head. “I wanted to show you something, Laney, not jump you when you’re least expecting it.”

Now I know I’m radish red.

“Come on,” he says, still chortling to himself.

I pout a little, but follow him all the same.

When he pushes open the door, I feel almost as if I should look away. Liam’s dorm was nothing, but the room of the boy I’m seeing? Seems wrong. Like I’m peeking into the deep down gushy insides of my boyfriend.

Eurgh – did I just say the word boyfriend?

I gag.

“Here,” he says, pulling me through the doorway and over to one of the beds. He smirks at me.

“What?” I ask shrewdly, feeling like I’m missing something.

“Laney,” he says pointedly, “look at the Daniel’s bed.”

“Al, what are you talking about? I – oh.” My heart stutters. Words clog up my throat. Blood drains from my face.

The image before me is nothing short of horrific: pictures of me in every location I can ever remember being in clutter the wall behind Daniel’s bed. Bits of my hair – my hair! – are tacked to the bulletin board, not to mention three of my missing socks and my wand cosy I lost ages ago.

I choke. “Fucking hell!”

Al dissolves into laughter, leaning against the bed frame for support.

“This isn’t funny!” I roar, shaking from head to toe.

He’s been stalking me! Daniel Osiris has been worshipping the bloody ground I walk on!

I rocket onto the bed, using Al’s shoulder for assistance, and begin grabbing at things at random. My missing Potions paper from last term; my lucky pebble I found by the Black Lake in first year; a nibble of Treacle Tart I had been eating; one of my bras!

“That tosser!” I screech, trying desperately to tear my possessions off of the wall.

Al, meanwhile, is doubled over, laughing so hard it looks like he might piss himself.

Pictures I rip from the wall flutter down onto him, clearly not helping the situation.

After a few more minutes of unresolved ranting, I collapse onto the bed, hair in every direction. If Al thought I was crazy before…

I grind my teeth so hard my jaw is pounding. “Why, exactly, did you feel the need to show me that?” I hiss.

“I’ve been meaning to forever,” he replies, tousling my tangled hair.

“And you didn’t think to return any of this stuff to me?” I ask through my teeth. I can practically feel the crazy seeping through my words.

“You can’t,” he chuckles, “he’s got some spell on them that makes them fly right back into place after you take them off. See for yourself.” He gestures at the wall behind me.

I turn to see a completely untouched, unharmed Laney Becks Shrine.

I stare, bewildered at it, my mouth forming a slight O. “I guess he won’t be bringing Dara up here in a tizzy,” I squeak, barely audible.

Al erupts into laughter.

Covering my face with my hands I say, “I’m going to need months of counselling for this.”

“James?” I ask furiously, snapping in his face.

“I swear he’s gone catatonic!” Lily exclaims, jabbing him in the neck with her wand.

“Maybe we should just put him out of his misery…?” suggests Avery Coote, James’s best mate.

“He’s been this way for weeks,” Blaine Donahue, another sixth year boy, states, shaking his head dismally. “The only thing he’s let on is that it’s about a girl. Merlin only knows who – he’s involved with half the school!”

“Oh!” Avery says, looking like he’s made a big discovery. “Maybe it’s Mildred Snorkin! He was snogging her all the time first term and then, all of the sudden – bam! – no more Mildred! I bet it’s her,” he says proudly.

Lily stares at him. “No, you idiot, he ditched Mildred Snorkin because, well, it’s Mildred Snorkin!”

Avery looks sincerely disappointed.

“We’ve tried everything,” continues Donahue, looking frustrated. “He won’t eat, won’t sleep, won’t hardly play Quidditch! Bloody hell, whoever this girl is, she’s really kicked him in the bollocks.”

I stare down at my shoes, trying to disappear into the sofa. I have a feeling it wouldn’t be the best idea to tell them about what I witnessed, particularly not with James sitting right next to me, potentially having some sort of manic episode.

“Should we take him to Madame Smitty’s, do you think?” asks Donahue, looking tentative.

“He should be fine,” Lily says, not looking entirely convinced. “Laney?” she asks, causing me to start.

“Y-Yes?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“What’s with the jump?” she inquires, wrinkling her brow. I pretend to be politely confused. “Anyway – where’s Albus?”

“He’s hanging out with Rose, why?” I reply.

“No reason, I just want to know if maybe he saw something,” she says absently, glancing nervously at her brother.

I sigh, feeling increasingly guiltier. But then something occurs to me. I glance at my watch. “Crap! I’m late!”

I jump up from the couch, wildly searching for my bag.

“Er – to what?” asks Lily, confused.

“I’ve got a meeting with Professor Wilkins right now to discuss careers,” I say, finally laying my hands on my bag. “See you,” I say, and I fly out the portrait hole.

My hands are shaking.

Dammit, stop already!

I swat at one hand with the other.

Well that didn’t work.

I blink.

“Please, Miss Becks, I’m asking you to just tell me something.”

I sniff. “A – er – concert pianist?”

I can practically taste the facepalm as she stares at me.

“Now why exactly would you go through seven years of wizarding school to become a musician?” Wilkins asks me in a seemingly forced tone.

“Because it’s my passion!” I squeak.

This is a lie.

I much too much like slamming the keys of a piano to annoy those around me as opposed to actually playing.

However, I am in a bit of a pickle. I don’t have any idea what I’ll be good for after Hogwarts.

Wilkins suggested a few jobs, but honestly, nothing appeals to me. Just makes me nervous.

Sometimes I get the feeling I’m like milk; good for a while until I get out into the real world, where I start to curdle and expire.

Yes. Exactly like milk.

I push the toe of my shoe around on the carpet. “Do I have to decide today?” I ask.

She tilts her glasses down her nose at me. “No… but Miss Becks, I must say, I’m concerned.”

“Why?” I snap. The motion is harsh, but I’m not surprized by it. I don’t like when people make a farce of me.

She peers down a very long piece of parchment, a slightly befuddled expression on her face. “You’ve missed almost seventy different classes in five years, your record of detentions is nearly a foot in length, and you’ve got student complaints by the tenfold. I’m sorry, Miss Becks, but I have to ask … do you care about your future at all?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “No.”

She looks startled. “But, Miss Becks, I –”

“I think we’re done here,” I half growl, standing up. I begin to let myself out, but I stop. “You know, Professor, I may not be the best student at this school, and I may not leave here to become some Ministry official, but at least I know who I am, unlike half the people at this bloody school.”

It’s weak, and I could’ve done better, but my mind is swirling with frustration. Do I care about my future? What the hell kind of question is that!

Nope, I think after a certain point I’ll just take to lying on the ground and pretending to be a rock.

Oh wait, never mind, that’d be caring too much, wouldn’t it?

Git.

On the way up to the common room I somehow run into Dara and Daniel three times, one of which Daniel “pretended” to think I was Dara and tried to hold my hand. I attempted a Leg-Locker Curse but he turned magenta-coloured instead.

I shrugged and continued on my way.

Al is waiting for me in the common room when I arrive, and I plop down next to him grumbling about the events of my meeting. He seems only mildly interested and I start to notice after a while.

I am not a jealous person. Mean and at times, justifiably violent, sure, but not jealous. But as I’ve had about zero to no experience in dealing with a boyfriend, it’s hard for me to decide what this odd burning is in my stomach when I notice his lack of interest.

I decide to test him.

Because I probably have nothing better to do.

“And then she asked me if I ‘cared about my future.’ Bloody bitch. So anyway, I stood up to leave but started to feel really weird and then – WHAM – I was a fucking werewolf! I completely scared her out of her arse – literally, she was without arse after I morphed. So then I lifted a great gnarly paw and swung at her desk, destroying all the pictures of her with those idiotic Ministry officials and what not. It really was great fun. I even had lunch with a unicorn later on.”

I stare at him.

“Mmm,” he replies, glancing behind me and looking back to his notes on Tobuscon Turnips and their genetic variations.

I scrutinize him. “Al.”

He nods, “Sounds brilliant, Laney. Glad you know what you want to do now.”

I grind my teeth.

“Al.”

He makes a note on his parchment.

I flick him in the side of the head.

“Bloody hell!” he says, recoiling. “What did I do?”

“You aren’t listening to me,” I point out.

“Sure I am,” he replies.

“I just told you I turned into a werewolf.”

“WHAT –”

“My point exactly.” I lean back in my chair.

He looks slightly abashed. “Erm, sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“’Sallright,” I shrug, petting Presto. “What’s up?”

“It’s stupid,” he mutters, looking back down at his work.

This is tempting. ‘It’s stupid’ is such an easy way out of a potentially emotional reveal. But, alas. I’m a girlfriend now – a significant other. Must do my duties.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” I say, attempting to sound warm. Probably failing.

He raises a brow at me.

Yes, definitely failing.

“I’m just worried about Ivy,” he mutters after a moment, glancing back over my shoulder. “She doesn’t have any friends anymore, Laney. Like five third years have even started a Pygmy Puff Rights Group against her name.”

I ponder this for a moment, even turning back to glimpse the very sullen looking Ivy herself at one point. I hate her. That’s the truth. But if I’m being honest, the hatred is rather unjustified. Where did it even come from? The best I can gather is that we just didn’t like each other at first sight, and that stemmed to a freaking blood battle in which she screwed me over for Al.

I consider my words for a moment or so. “Look, what she did to me wasn’t right. What I did to her wasn’t … well, it was great fun but it wasn’t exactly nice either. I guess I’m just trying to say that if I’ve moved on, she will. I didn’t have one friend for two whole years in this place. She’ll find some Slytherin to make things better soon enough.”

He laughs gently, and I must say, he looks convinced. Huh, maybe I do have some wisdom after all.

And now I am craving pickles.

“Al, do you have any pickles in your dormitory?” I ask excitedly.

“Pickles?”

“Yes. Do you have any?” I’m eager for my pickly delights.

“Er – no pickles, sorry,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Drat.

“But …” he trails off.

“Olives? Banana peppers? Anything else that might be pickled for twenty four hours and served to the common public?” I bounce a bit in my seat.

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of a beverage.” He gives me a sly look.

“Alcohol?” I ask, confused. I laugh. “Since when do you drink?”

“James gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Just some firewhiskey,” he adds.

“All right,” I say, intrigued. “Where shall we congregate for this?”

“My dorm, tonight at eleven, all right?”

I nod.

He kisses me and stands up. “I’ve got Seeker practice. See you tonight.”

I hate relationships.

Hate them.

Accept in the case of Al and me, which is more of a bickering snog-fest at best. But I love it that way.

What I do hate? Relationships like Dara and Daniel.

“No you’re cute.”

“No you are.”

“No, you.”

“You!”

“You!”

“IF YOU TWO DON’T SHUT UP –”

Al grabs my arm. “Laney…”

I am on the edge of my seat, almost ready to murder the ghastly couple cuddling in the bed opposite Al and me. It was a last minute decision of Al’s to allow Daniel and Dara to join us that night in their dorm. I can’t help but be disappointed – I was hoping to wreak some serious havoc with Al as drunk monkeys, but it’s become a more sober affair. What with dividing two firewhiskeys amongst Al, Daniel, Dara, Fred, Carter, and me.

I have been less than excited.

It also doesn’t help that I can see in plain sight the Laney shrine covered by merely a sheet.

“I love you like I love the smell of the pavement when it rains,” Dara sighs.

Fred looks livid.

I motion for my wand.

“We – we could play chess?” Albus suggests frantically.

“Al, can I talk to you?” I hiss, pulling him into the corridor.

“Erm – sure?” he replies as if I was waiting for a response.

I shut the dormitory door behind me.

“This isn’t what I expected out of tonight.” I scowl.

He shuffles his feet. “I know, I’m sorry. But we’ll only have to put up with them for a few more hours. Can you do that?”

I gasp. “Hours? Hours? Not trying to be high maintenance here, but I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it that long, Al. Can’t we just ditch this and go snog in the common room or something?”

He smirks. “Just give it one more chance. If you are still ready to kill them in thirty minutes, we can ditch.”

I pout. “Fine. But I demand some Treacle Tart from your lunch tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

We walk back into the dormitory and sit down.

“How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Dara suggests giddily as we re-enter the room.

Everyone looks a bit weary. “That sounds… fun, I guess,” says Carter thoughtfully.

No one else replies.

“Brilliant!” Dara squeaks

I want to hit her.

“I’ll go first,” she continues, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Laney, truth or dare?”

“What are we, eleven?” I hiss. “I’m not playing.”

“Don’t be snob,” she snaps. “Truth or dare?”

I scrutinize my small but fearsome friend. “Truth.”

I have no problem lying.

“Have you ever fancied anyone in this room other than Al?”

“Carter,” I answer immediately. “Long time ago.”

She looks surprized at my willingness.

“You did?” Carter asks, looking taken aback.

“Sure,” I reply.

I feel Albus tense slightly from next to me.

I pat him on the head.

“Okay, Laney,” she says slowly, looking more than politely surprised. “You’re turn.”

“Dara, this is codswallop. Who really –”

“Laney, just do it!” she snaps.

“All right, fine,” I growl. “Fred.”

His head snaps up from his sultry body posture. “What?”

“Truth or dare.”

He narrows his eyes. “Dare.”

“Lick Dara’s face,” I say instantly. I leer at her.

“NO!” she shouts, recoiling. “No.”

“Dara,” I say, sneering at her, “don’t be a snob.”

Her face contorts with deep frustration. “Fine.” She looks sadly at a very nonchalant Daniel.

“I’m not going to lick that, Becks,” Fred says, though his eyes deceive him.

“Yes you are.” I shove him towards Dara. “It’s the rule of the game. If you don’t lick her then the game will mean nothing. It will be a pile of hippogriff shit on society.”

“You’re dramatic,” he points out.

Albus snorts.

“I know. Now do it.” I give him another shove. And I know, deep down, if either of them truly cared, they would never have let me make this happen.

“All right then, Valentin,” he says, hunkering down, “don’t move. I don’t want to end up licking anywhere else.”

She looks enraged, but squeezes her eyes shut all the same.

“Go on, Freddy Boy.” I snicker.

After successfully giving me a rude hand gesture and smirking slightly in Daniel’s direction, he leans in and licks Dara up the side of her face. She instantly shoots backwards, slamming her head into the bed post and screaming. She rubs the side of her face furiously.

Even Fred can’t help but laugh.

“That was gross,” Dara whimpers, not look at Fred.

“All right, Daniel,” Fred says, a seething look on his face. “Truth or dare.”

“How about truth?” Daniel asks excitedly, bouncing a little.

“Do you fancy Laney?”

“Yes.”

“WHAT?” Dara jumps to her feet.

“I mean no!” Daniel says hastily.

Dara hesitates for a moment. “Okay,” she says, taking his hand and popping back down again.

I clench my fist around a plastic spork.

Where did I get the plastic spork?

That is a story for another day.

“Laney!” Daniel says enthusiastically. “Truth or dare?”

“Be nice, Laney,” Al whispers.

“Dare,” I hiss.

“Okay!” he says, bouncing up and down. “I dare you to snog me!”

I jump up, aghast. “LEMME AT ‘EM, LEMME AT ‘EM!” Al holds me back as I flail my limbs towards Daniel.

“Laney!” Al gasps, “Relax!”

After a few more minutes of prolonged struggling, I go limp.

“Are you calm?” Al asks.

I take a deep breath. “I’m calm.”

“Good,” Daniel says, “now kiss me!”

“OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

“OW! OW! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO!”

And that is story of how I stabbed Daniel Osiris with a spork.

Author's Note: I literally adore this chapter for some odd reason. It holds a special place in my heart. And mark my words -- you have not heard the last of that spork.

Also there may be something else in store for next chapter that has been seemingly forgotten. Can anyone guess what it is?

This chapter is deticated to Lily, Robbi, and all others who have been so kind about JO on Twitter.

Love you guyz.

Ash

Chapter 15: Give Me a Break
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Disclaimer: Mmm bop! Mmm bop! JKR's world! Mmm bop! Mmm bop bop!

The hospital wing is never a pleasurable place. It’s dark, cold, and damp; eerie like a dungeon and full of spiders and other things that make me pee of fright.

Actually, it’s pretty much the cleanest, most pristine place in the entire castle, but it’s so damn boring that this is how I see it.

It’s where merriment goes to die.

I’ve been using a thesaurus lately.

On this dark, dank day I have wound up in the hospital wing, clutching my elbows, mouth screwed up, and eyes full of bother. So why exactly have I landed myself face up in this pile of boredom and sick?

In order to learn the extent of this…intriguing…tale, we’ll have to venture back about one week, where it all started.

***

Monday, Laney Becks

I wiggle. “Al,” I say, turning my head. I have found myself trapped in the smallest broom cupboard at Hogwarts, stuffed between Albus, a bucket, and three brooms. I hear him moan a little in response, though I don’t press on because I can see how his face is smushed so tightly against the wall that he looks like a guppy. It smells of rancid water and rat piss, and I wonder vaguely the last time this place was cleaned.

Al and I had been walking along the fourth floor corridor when we had run into my worst fear: Daniel.

Promptly after stabbing him in the triceps with a spork, he had a severe allergic reaction to the plastic and went into anaphylactic shock.

It turns out that I had used that very spork to eat a pickle earlier in the day, not knowing that I was going to be stabbing someone with it who was allergic to pickles.

It was not a pretty sight.

Unfortunately, the violent event had only caused Daniel’s disturbing infatuation with me to grow ever more: after spending four nights in the hospital wing, Al found him spread across their dormitory one night sobbing and clutching at my toothbrush.

I have been avoiding him like a plague.

So when we turned the corner to come nose to nose with Mr. Osiris himself, I had no other option but to run for it. We lost him somewhere along the moving staircases and were able to duck into this tiny broom cupboard just in time.

“Damn – psychotic – IDIOT!” I huff, trying to untwist myself from this odd predicament, but instead my legs become entangled in a net and I topple out of the cupboard headfirst, dragging Al down with me.

We lay on the stone floor for a minute or so in silence, covered from head to toe in the contents of the cupboard. I don’t move until I see a rat scurry out, in which case I screech and do a sort of twitchy jump onto Al’s stomach.

“Aghhhh! Laney! Can’t – BREATHE!”

“What?” I say, still shocked that a live rodent had just been within inches of my cheek. When I notice that I am kneeling on Al’s stomach with my full weight, I cry “Oh! Sorry! Sorry!” and tumble off.

“Merlin, this is a nightmare,” I groan, massaging my neck.

Albus laughs, kissing my cheek and removing the wand from his robes. I watch him levitating things back into the broom cupboard one by one, smiling all the while. I can feel the warmth of his hand in mine, and I blink down at it. How am I this lucky? A year ago no Hogwarts student save Dara would come within ten hiccups of me, and now I actually mean something to someone.

I stand up and kiss him. His eyes alight and he looks curiously at me. “What was that for?” he asks, his wand hand falling down by his side.

I pat his cheek and snort. “Don’t worry about it, Albert.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Albert?”

“Wow, shagging in the corridors,” Ivy Osiris loudly sneers at us. We whirl around to find her leaning against the stone wall, hand on her hip, leering.

Al and I exchange furtive looks. For months now Ivy has been nothing short of dejected and Al and I had actually begun to feel sorry for her. But at this statement an alarm goes off inside me: old Ivy is back.

“Pretty trashy, if you ask me,” she says, surveying us nastily.

“Back to your old self, then,” Al says, glaring at her. “What did it?”

She scowls at him and says, “That’s really none of your business, Potter.”

He scoffs. “That’s rich, Ivy, seeing as you made everything my business when we were together.”

She glowers at him. “I’ll just leave you and your whore of a girlfriend to it, then.”

In an instant Al’s hand has ripped from mine. He has lunged at Ivy, wand at her throat. “Don’t you dare call her that!”

My eyes bulge and I freeze, watching the scene before me. I’m certain you could hear a pin drop. Ivy looks absolutely flabbergasted.

“Laney Becks is my girlfriend, Ivy. Get that through your thick head. I don’t want you. And that’s never going to change. If you ever call her that again, it’ll be the last thing you do. I can promise you that.”

He lowers his wand and strides over to me, grabbing my wrist and leading me away from Ivy.

“I’ll report you for that threat, Potter!” Ivy shrieks after us, voice shrill shaky.

“Yeah? Try me!” Al bellows over his shoulder, leading me roughly away.

Something inside me is ticking. I watch his taught face, angry and frustrated. He looks like he could wrestle a lion with his bare hands.

As we round the corner I can take it no longer. Half tackling him I say, “Albert you are the hottest piece of steak and kidney pie I have ever seen!” and I kiss him awkwardly, accidentally crashing us into the statue of Gertrude the Gross while I’m at it.

After fits of uncontrollable laughter each, we pull each other up from the ground.

He looks at me, shaking his head, laughing. “I love you.”

The blood falls from my face. He loves me. Fucking hell – he loves me! He loves me after I’ve nearly had him killed by Daniel and Ivy, crashed into a statue, and fallen out of a tiny broom cupboard. I didn’t even know nice people could love mean people! The world as I know it is shattered! Shattered I tell you! He loves me? Bollocks. How do I reciprocate his feeling? I open my mouth to speak. Holy hippogriffs! How do people do this? Maybe if I stare. Yes, just peer into his eyes. No, Laney. STARE! He’ll understand what I’m doing.

“L-Laney?” he stutters. “What are you doing?”

“Reciprocating your feelings,” I huff, staring painfully at him. My eyes feel as though they are about to pop out of their sockets. My face is scrunched up into a pained grimace and I’m trembling with focus.

He helps me up, looking slightly crestfallen. “You don’t have to say it back. If you aren’t ready, I understand.” He mumbles a bit.

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap. I look at him for a moment before leaning in to kiss him, pushing my fingers through his hair, trying to be the romantic girlfriend he deserves. I can tell he is startled by the sudden action, but he doesn’t object. Boy best not reject it, I grumble internally. I don’t usually kiss him this way.

Suddenly a thought hits me. Well, not really a thought, but an instinct. Without hesitation I press my body against his, gently pushing his back against the wall, running my knee along the side of his leg.

Though Al and I have had some pretty satisfactory snogging sessions, it was always on his shoulders. For such an easy going bloke, he’s surprisingly commanding when snogging. Protective, strong, and fierce. I hadn’t realised how natural I was at it as well.

I’m actually having fun.

Once I have pulled away, I’m breathing hard and so is he. “Do – do I still have to say it out loud?” I ask quietly.

He laughs. “Come on, we’ve got Quidditch.”

We walk through the castle until we’ve reached the outdoors. The unseasonably warm air tickles my nose and cheeks, making it quite difficult to wear my usual scowl. Not that it’s ever easy to scowl anymore; not with Al around I mean.

I also notice the breeze ruffling my messy hair, and how I can feel it half way down the middle of my back. Netta always used to cut my hair on Holiday; ever since she died I haven’t even thought about it. I cast a downward glance at her memory. While maybe she knitted a few too many frilly socks for my taste, I liked how Netta made me feel unique. I always slated myself as miserably normal, meaning every sense of the phrase, but she would always shake her head and say, “No, no, Laney dear. You’re no girl who’s just ordinary. Once you peel back the layers, well, I’d say you’re a very fascinating young thing. A little bonkers, maybe, but what great mind isn’t? Don’t count out the stone before you break it open.”

It was those times with Netta that I felt most myself, finally understanding a few things about who I am. I always thought that maybe my great aunt knew me just a little better than I knew myself.

I glance over at Al, who’s deep in thought with a knitted brow, and I take his hand. I don’t really like obnoxious hand-holders, but ever since I started dating this bloke, I unwillingly see why they like it.

I love being with Al, I do. And this incomplete year has been better than my past four years at Hogwarts all smashed together. I’ve never been happier. And honestly, I don’t even know why I didn’t tell Al I — you know — him too. What’s so hard about that? I’m no bloody Mary-Sue! I’m not afraid of saying...it.

Laney, listen up, tell him you love him. It’s a lie to pretend you don’t. It’ll hurt your relationship. Do it. Do it you weeny!

“Al I —” Before the words can escape my mouth I’ve spun around and am being yanked behind some prickly bushes. I open my mouth to inquire as to why I am budged up behind a bush with spiky leaves scraping the skin through my robes, when I see how Albus looks just as confused as me.

The face of James is evident; pale and anxious. He is crouched at the base of a large tree running his fingers repeatedly through his hair. Lily is looking irritatedly at him as she sits down.

“What the hell, Lily?” Albus says angrily, wringing out his swore wrist. “Why’d you drag us over here?”

It isn’t often Al snaps at Lily.

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” she says through strongly grit teeth. “He’s gone absolutely batty.”

I raise a brow. “James?”

She gives me an exasperated look. “You have no idea. He’s been following me around for days whimpering about Charlotte this or Charlotte that. I’m about to lose my mind!”

“Not that I don’t feel sorry for you, Lily,” Al says, clearly still aggravated with her, “but honestly, what does this have to do with Laney and me?”

“I need you to get them back together!” she hisses.

“Why don’t you do it then, yeah?” he says vehemently.

“Because you numpty I’ve tried! About five times!” she retorts, stamping her foot down frustratedly. For someone so small, it’s really quite funny. It’d be positively alarming coming from anyone else. But it’s Lily. So I laugh.

She lowers her voice slightly, clearly tugging at composure. I can see how James really is driving her mad. “She won’t listen to me. That’s why I need you — well, not really you, but Laney.”

Now I’m not laughing.

“What?” I snap, suddenly very aware of the conversation. She wants me to confront emotion? To instigate it? Hell no! What do I look like? A Saint Bernard?

“No Lily,” Al says, looking positively scary. “Laney and I are not here to play matchmaker for James and Charlotte!”

“But stubborn people always listen to Laney! Me, Rose, Dara!” she half shouts, half whispers at him. “Bloody hell Al, you punched him in the face this year! The least you could do would be to at least try!”

“That’s because he was snogging Laney!” Al roars.

“You’re shooting yourself in the foot, Lils,” I say awkwardly.

“Calm down Albus,” she snaps, ignoring me completely. I sniff. “He’s your brother, and he is hurting.”

“Brother or not, this is just a girl,” Al barks, though he seems substantially more calm. “He’ll get over it.”

Lily looks cold and furious. “Really? Just some girl?”

Albus nods, though I can see how he has paled.

“So, you mean to say, that if Laney just, say, fell out of your life” — I am looking determindley in every direction but Al — “you would just...get over it?”

I clear my throat awkwardly.

“Dammit Lily,” he says, taking my hand in his. “Fine, we’ll bloody get them back together.”

A smile breaks across her mouth. “I knew you’d come around!” she says, hugging our shoulders. “Thank you so, so, so —”

“Yeah, yeah,” Albus says, pushing her away from us. “Now listen, we’ll do what we can but I can’t promise anything else. And if Laney doesn’t want to,” he says, turning towards me, “then she doesn’t have to. That isn’t your decision, Lily.”

Lily is staring pleadingly at me.

I sigh. “Right. Sure. But I don’t know why you think I’m any good at this...”

She beams at me. “Thanks, Becks.”

Twenty minutes later we are watching a substantially happier Lily heave her brother up the hill to Hogwarts.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Al asks me after a while. “I mean, getting involved with James’ love-life probably won’t end well.”

I pat his cheek. “Al, since when does anything end well these days? We’ll be fine.”

I begin to stand up when I see, just over the tip-top of the bush, Rose and Riley heading this way. Him looking very smug, her looking disturbingly vacant.

“Bloody hell,” I squeak, yanking Al back down into a crouching position.

“Wh-what?” he says, looking alarmed.

“It’s Rose and Riley,” I whisper. “Damn bloke has practically got her in a headlock...wait, wait, stay Al. I want to hear what they’re talking about!”

“Laney,” he starts.

I shoot him a look. “She hasn’t talked to anyone in weeks, Al! You know that just as well as I do! And besides,” I add, sniffing a bit, “you told me not to meddle and I didn’t. I’ve been good, and the situation has clearly gotten worse! Just let me listen.”

“All right, all right.”

I know he wants to hear too. Just not with me around.

Not where I can get any brilliant ideas.

Rose is just prattling on about the events of her day in a slightly fast but monotonic voice when Riley cuts her off. “So I was thinking,” he says in a coy voice, pulling them to a stop just to the left of our bush, “that we could, you know, meet up tonight. Later.”

Immediately a great lump rises in my throat and my eyes meet Al’s. We both know what he’s getting at before the question has even fazed poor Rose.

And it isn’t knitting sweaters.

When it finally hits her, it’s quite obvious; she’s been so pale and blase recently that it’s easy to see the surprise light her face, and even the slight shock and indignation lurking in her eyes.

This is it, I think, this is finally it. Rose is going to be furious that he would even ask! Maybe she’ll realise what he’s been up to all along!

But she isn’t. And she doesn’t.

He tells her it’s been a month, and that he won’t be waiting another. Al is frozen, fury practically rolling off of him.

“Nine then,” Riley says.

As they walk away I watch Rose shrink beneath his arm. I turn to Al and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“We have to break them up. Tonight.”

Monday, Rose Weasley

I stare at my unfortunate reflection in the mirror, noticing just how puffy my hair really is. I have never been self-conscious about my appearance; it’s something that means very little to me. If people judge me based off of the way I look, then they can’t be much of a friend to me, now can they? But when you start going with someone as surreally beautiful as Riley O’Malley, even the strongest girls start to lose confidence.

Thick circles have fallen like bags under my eyes and I have taken to reapplying powder to them every few hours. I don’t want anyone to notice how stressed I am; how I’ve been nothing short of gnawing away my fingernails, losing sleep more and more each night, and finding myself in front of the mirror for hours on end just staring at the sorry girl in the glass. I was happy with Riley at first — there was no stress to be beautiful or to impress him in my mind. I thought he loved me for me, but every day I feel that way less and less. I look at Al and Laney and know that’s not what I have. And it’s all I want.

I tie my hair back into a knot and slink slowly through my dormitory and down the girls’ stairs, clutching my Potions and Charms textbooks tightly to my chest. I try to think only of my O.W.L. studies as I pass through the common room, but am promptly stopped by Carter Hanes.

“Hi Rose,” he says, matching my pace and grinning, “got a minute?”

My usual frenzied persona would have had me whirling around asking for anything my friend might need, all thoughts of whatever I was headed to do washed from my mind. But now, stressed, tired, and empty, I just shrug.

“Well, thing is,” he says, now jogging to keep up with me as I walk towards the library, “I was – well I was wondering if you’d be willing to – only if you want to, I mean – if you’d be willing to tutor me for my OWLs?”

I stop in my tracks, taken aback. In this motion, he flies ahead of me and then doubles back looking confused. “Of course,” I say, an old spark of myself reappearing.

“Brilliant,” he sighs, grinning at me.

Just as I begin to feel myself, it falls away at the sight of Riley. “Bye,” I say to Carter over my shoulder as I take off at a run.

As I sprint at him I choke and stumble. I’m running. Why am I running? I abruptly fall into a walk and pretend not to notice him and his friends laughing.

“’Ello,” he says, greeting me and kissing my forehead, making me go radish red. His friends snort. “Got my work, love?” he asks, smiling at me.

“Oh, yes,” I say, fumbling with my bag until I find the parchment with his name on it. Doing a seventh year Potions essay hadn’t been too terribly hard.

He beams, “That’s my girl, Rose,” taking the parchment from me and throwing it carelessly into his bag. He tosses his arm around my shoulder and leads me away from the library and his joking mates. I notice one lurking behind, looking darkly at Riley and even more so at me. He has blonde hair and grey eyes. I catch a glimpse of the other laughing blokes making rude motions and pointing. All of the sudden I feel hot and claustrophobic under Riley’s strong arm.

“So how was your day?” he questions, pulling me from my reverie.

I cough slightly and smile. “Well,” I begin, going over today’s events in my head, “it was stressful, at best. You know, O.W.L. studies have been the first thing on my mind, obviously, I mean it’s so important for me to make a good —”

“So I was thinking,” he goes on, leading me outside and blatantly cutting off my sentence, “that we could, you know, meet up tonight. Later.”

I stare at him. “You...want me to sneak out?”

He chuckles. “Rose, it’s been almost a month. I won’t be waiting another.”

I can feel my face paling. “I — I don’t understand.”

“Rose, you’re smart,” he says to me. “Why don’t you take a wild guess.”

We are now stopped outside the castle, near a bit of greenery. Of course I know what he is saying — how could I not? Shagging. My moral side screams. My facade shutters. But, like all things with Riley, I do not object. I do not reject him.

“Nine, then.” He smiles and strengthens his hold around my shoulders.

I feel sick and shaky and want nothing more than to remove that long weight from my shoulders.

“Oh, and don’t forget to do my Herbology homework, right love?”

I drop my gaze. “Right.”

Monday, Laney Becks

“Al.”

“Laney.”

I widen my eyes vehemently. “Albert Potter, if you do not help me I will sit on your face!”

He raises a pensive brow. “Albert?”

I groan and collapse down onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. My decision to break up Rose and Riley O’Malley had not been an easy one until this morning, when I encountered the two discussing plans of finally... well, doing the dirty. It was then that I finally decided to break them up. I can’t keep letting this go on, especially knowing that he’s only using her for school work and one shag, in which case he’ll dump her after. It’s all just a bet. And he’s beat down her confidence so much that it’s practically nothing to her. She isn’t herself at all anymore.

This has got to be stopped.

“Laney,” Al says slowly, “there’s nothing we can do. Rose’ll be furious if we try to end this.”

“If we can just expose the bet he’s made —” I start.

“And how do you expect us to do that?” he says, clearly irritated.

I pull my knees up to my chin and think hard. “We’ll record him,” I say finally. “We’ll catch that little twat admitting to it straight away.”

“There’s no way either of us could get him to admit that by tonight,” Al retorts. “And have you forgotten about the other deal we made today? James and Charlotte?”

I nod my head. “No, we can do both, Al! But right now, Rose is our priority.” I stare at him, trying to understand why he is being like this. Rose is his best friend and some prat is trying to take advantage of her, and he just wants to let it happen?

“What’s going on?” I narrow my eyes at him. “I saw how you nearly killed that Desmond boy at the beginning of the year when he hurt Rose. I haven’t forgotten that.”

He’s stares at the ground determinately, looking pale as a sheet.

And suddenly, it dawns on me.

“Oh my God!” I squeak, eyes bugging. “You’re trying to trick me!” I smack his shoulder and he looks shamefully up at me. He’s furious at Riley — of course he is! But he’s going to break them up himself — without me!

Oh my God that is so annoying.

I grab a spork from my robes and brandish it at him. “I certainly hope you aren’t allergic to pickles!” I shriek.

“Laney, Laney!” he says, grabbing my forearm and forcing it away from him. “Just hang on a minute!”

“What? Did you want all the glory for yourself?” I ask angrily.

“No! It’s nothing like that!”

“Then what, Al? What is it? I can break those two up just as well as you can! Actually, I can probably do it better!”

“More like there is no way in hell that I’m letting you get involved with Riley O’Malley.” He looks firmly at me.

Any ideas of Albus’s treachery now fall away and settle into shame. “Oh,” I say, lacking of any intelligent response. Slowly, I lower the spork from his cheek and give him a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry I freaked out.”

He shrugs. “I’m willing to take a few freak outs. I should have been honest with you.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

He kisses my cheek before noticing my slightly crestfallen expression. “Laney, I don’t want you to think that I don’t want your help. Your help would be amazing, actually, but I’m sorry, there’s no way I’m going to —”

“That’s not it, Al,” I say abruptly. “I know what this bloke is about. I know I shouldn’t be mixing with him — especially not embarrassing him. But it’s me, Al.” I touch his hand reassuringly. “I do stupid, reckless things all the time. I love what you are doing — I can’t tell you what it means to me. You know, to have someone care that much. But I don’t need someone to protect me,” I say gently. “Rose is my friend, too. I have to do this. I want to do this.”

He gives me his usual squinty-eyed grin. “You really aren’t like most girls, are you?”

I beam at him. “So what’s the plan?”

“You look ridiculous,” Chaz Jacobs giggles at me as I observe my reflection in the mirror.

I am decked out in spy gear. Well, in my mind, that is. I’ve worn as much black as I could find and painted little dark streaks beneath my eyes. Not to mention the fact that I am popping around the mirror like a ninja in action.

Fifteen minutes. That’s all I’ve been given to prepare myself for tonight’s mission. Stupid Al. He should know that I’ll need more than fifteen minutes to prepare myself for take off. Or whatever.

But alas, I am ready. I bid Chaz farewell, scowl at the slumbering beast who has her drapes closed around her lair, and am flying down the staircase when I slam headfirst into none other than Rose.

“Banana pancakes, it’s you!” I shriek, not really considering the words before they’ve left my mouth.

She smiles lightly at me. “Hi Laney, have all your homework done? Been studying for your OWLs?” she asks a little weakly, but still somewhat herself. The fact that she didn’t pick up on my nervousness in seeing her doesn’t sit well with me. Rose is incredibly observant.

I can’t help but scowl a little. “Never,” I say. She shakes her head and laughs. She’s laughing. Could old Rose be back? Has she determined today that Riley is slime and has dumped him?

I bounce a little. “Where are you off to tonight?”

Instantly, as if I have just told her that a bear ate her school books, she looks miserable and anxious.

Fabulous. They’re still together.

“I’ll be with Riley tonight,” she says, a tone of embarrassment seeping in. “Speaking of, I’ve got to go get a shower. I’ll see you later.”

And she walks quickly up to the fifth year dorm without a backwards glance.

I shake my head, now more ready than ever to push Riley O’Malley into a pit of snakes.

What a prat.

I fly past Dara who starts to say hello, Fred who is throwing death glares in the direction of who I assume is Daniel, and Liam who very nearly knocks over his Wizard’s Chess board in an effort to greet me. Albus is waiting just outside the common room, pointing a first year in the direction of Professor McCollough’s room. As I approach them, the first year shrieks, stumbles backwards, trips over her robes, and takes off in the direction of their common room.

I smile. Just how I like it.

Al is chuckling as he says, “Nice outfit.”

“It would be better if I’d have had a bit more time.” I straighten the neck of my cloak. “All I really need is a Breeze Charm to complete the ‘Billowing in the Wind’ look.”

Al guffaws, takes my hand, and pulls me along the corridor until we’ve reached the library. “Here’s where we’re meeting him,” he says, gesturing towards the entrance. “I had Arty Sloper run a message down to him earlier. He should be in there.”

Right. Sterling Jones.

It had been my idea after all to meet with Sterling. I knew it probably wasn’t the best plan to go to this bloke for help, namely because I’m still bitter over his lack of doing anything about Riley for the past month. He told me Riley was only trying to get into Rose’s knickers on a bet, kissed me, and then promised he would stop him. I was royally pissed off when he didn’t come through. I had suggested to Al on a last resort that we consult him for a recording of Riley’s nonsense.

However, it is sort of my last hope here.

It was our deal that if this plan doesn’t work, I’ll have to go back to my room and let Al break them up himself.

Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

“Al?” I ask, turning to face him. “Do you mind if I talk to him alone? I think it would be best.”

He smiles at me. “Of course you can.”

Well damn. If he’d have wanted to talk to Ivy alone I’d have been a Laney-osaurus.

But had I really expected him to say no?

I kiss his cheek and slink into the library, eyeing around for Sterling.

Author's Note: Eep! Cliffhanger! And oh gosh, this has taken me a lot of extraneous edits (just ask Lily, Julia, Gina, Annie, Erica...!) to get right. And like months of uncertainty. I expected to put something in here that I hinted at in the last chapter's author's note, but I didn't realize how bloody long this was going to be! So I have to branch it into two chapters. It's a major story arch for pretty much all of our main characters. Eeep!

Laney and Al's relationship was (and will be) tested. It's going to be interesting to see how they manage as this story's climax begins to come underway just after this arch. Sorry. That was confusing. But you'll see what I mean soon enough....

QUESTIONS! (Because I'm Ash and Ash has to ask questions kay)

I actually described a kiss. Oh-em-gee. Sorry, random detail that I forgot to mention earlier in this note. I'm so scatter brained. Apologies. Anyway.

What did you think of Al and his declaring of dark, deep love for Laney-bop?

Who would you like to see more of?

Would you like for this story to stay light and humourous or extend into more drama and slight adventure?

I have two different plot lines mapped out that can end this story. I'm still deciding.

Ashhh

Chapter 16: Secret Agents
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Disclaimer: I no own dis! Dis belong to JKR! OOGA.

* * *

The library is cold and silent, taking on the night as a grim old friend. I slide by shelf after shelf, searching for the grey eyes and blond hair I’m sure will shine bright in the darkness. The library is incredibly creepy late at night, and I’m starting to wonder if Rose is really worth it. I have a very irrational fear of books. Particularly dark, dusty ones that I just know are watching me.

Merlin, why would Al choose this place for us to meet?

I eye the shelves carefully as I pass by them, muttering warnings under my breath.

God, books are creepy.

I enter the back corner of the library and finally see his pale eyes glowing in the darkness. I’m sure he can see me, even though I am dark haired and dark eyed. He always strikes me as the sensory type.

We are both watching each other, but neither of us says a word. I decide to lean to against a bookshelf, considering what I’m about to say to him, when I miscalculate the distance of the shelf and do a sort of blundering tumble through the air. It’s quite awkward if I’m being honest. But I seriously dare him to point that out.

I cough and lean against the book shelf like nothing happened, and then check an invisible watch. I’m actually quite learned in the art of playing it cool.

He’s staring at me with that same, aggravatingly bored expression. Hardly even amused at my almighty tumble. For some reason, this irks me. Maybe I kind of like when they laugh, because I get to rage at them. I don’t even know who they are, actually. And here I go again, forgetting where I even am.

There’s a soft drumming of fingers.

Ah, Sterling.

Finally, I look up. Plan or no plan for tonight, there are some unresolved things I’ve got to deal with first. “Wanna tell me why you never bothered to stop O’Malley?” I cross my arms and glare at him. A meaner glare than usual. One that I’ve been working on.

He sits at a small rounded desk, his recently ignited wand propped up against a stack of books. After a while he says in his same, bored tone, “He wasn’t really interested in what I had to say.”

Anger boils up inside me. “You promised me you —”

“I hear you’re dating that weedy Potter boy,” he says abruptly, a sharp edge to his voice. There is a certain note of suggestiveness that I just barely catch.

“So what if I am?” I retort. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, something that sends a tremble up my spine. Like he’s a starving a lion, and I’m some rotten meat he’s tried to eat. Some rotten meat that wasted his time. “You said you would help,” I add, trying to make myself clear. I’m not afraid of him. I’m not.

He observes me before saying, “When you kissed me—”

“You mean when you kissed me?” I correct vehemently.

There’s an angry glint in his eye, but he continues, “Well, I sort of thought that you liked me.”

“Oi!” I say, angered. “I told you I was taken!”

Five years. Five years I’ve been at Hogwarts without a date. Now in less than one I’ve suddenly got a raging love life? I demand a refund.

“I thought you were just surprised,” he snaps, raising his voice for the first time since I’ve met him. “I was going to come talk to you the next day — to ask you to Hogsmeade — when I found you and Potter snogging by the Greenhouses. Funny how I thought I’d found a girl who actually got me — who wasn’t some snobby nice girl from London. You’re just a bint like the rest of them.”

This hits me hard, and it infuriates me. “Oi, Sterling,” I hiss, “let me make a few things clear, eh? I never returned nor asked for you to lay one on me, got it? I told you I was seeing someone, too, so don’t sit there and accuse me of being insensitive. As far as I’m concerned, you gave me your word that you would help stop Riley O’Malley hurting my friend, and apparently your word is nothing.” I turn to leave, but before I get very far, I whip around. “It’s tonight, by the way,” I snap. “And without you, there’s not a bloody thing I can do for her. She’s as good as brainwashed.”

This was a mistake. Now I’ll just have to go fight Al to let me come, and if he caves, help him curse Riley through the wall and try and beg Rose to understand that he is a horrible, horrible, git. And clearly, none of this is going to end well.

I begin to blindly stumble back towards the exit (forgetting altogether the spell for making light. Yes, I really am that bad at paying attention.) when I hear a series of footsteps coming up from behind, and Sterling grabs my forearm.

“All right, Fifth Year” — he sighs — “what do I have to do?”

I turn around, my arms folded. “You’re sure? I’m not enlisting the help of a berk, so you better be sure.”

He chuckles. “I’m positive. I gave you my word. You were right.”

I muster a small smile, embracing the fact that I do, after all, have a small soft spot for mean people. I take his wand in my hand, rolling it around a bit. “I take it you know the sister spells for recording voices?” I ask.

“Referre Sonos and Repetere?” he replies with ease.

“Er — yes, I think those are the ones,” I say. I actually have no earthly idea if those are the right spells, but he’s a seventh year, so I just go with it. “Anyway, you gotta record what he says” — he seems uncomfortable — “and — oi — you said you were sure!”

“I’m sure, I’m sure!”

I eye him carefully. Boy, I will really enjoy pumbling him to a pulp if he screws me over— Laney, that really isn’t ladylike! a voice in my head reminds me. Right. Must keep the crazy to a minimum these days.

Shaking my head clear, I continue, “Well, he’s a prat. So he’s bound to be down in your common room right now bragging that he’ll be winning his stupid bet tonight. It shouldn’t be hard to catch what he says. All you have to do is transfer it over to Albus’s wand after you get it. He’ll wait for you in the courtyard at ten-thirty. That way you won’t even have to be seen by him. He’ll never know.”

“All right,” he says, nodding. “And when are you going to show her?”

“He’s supposed to meet her there at eleven, and if I know Rose, she’ll be there at least fifteen minutes early. We’ll make her hear us out, show her the recording, and when Riley shows up — wham — Rose’ll confront him, and he’ll admit it. Then they’ll finally be over and Rose won’t be mad at us.”

“So why not just tell her beforehand?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, no. Rose needs confrontation. It’s key, trust me.”

He nods. “I’ll meet your friend at ten-thirty with the recording. I won’t let you down.”

“Thanks, Sterling,” I reply, managing a small smile.

“No problem,” he says. “And listen, I’m sorry for what I said before. I don’t think you’re snobby or anything — you love Potter, I get it.”

I nod. “I do.”

“So you love him?” he queries.

I stop, confused. “I — wait — uh,” I sputter, going red. Damn him!

When we exit the library, Albus is sitting against the stone wall outside the doorway, his wand out, head lulling. I crouch down next to him and whisper, “Al?” When I touch his hand he jumps, and I fall backwards in surprise. “Sorry! Sorry!” I say, getting up.

“Laney,” he breathes, looking relieved. “No, sorry, it was me. I think I fell asleep.” He gives his head a small shake and looks around. When he notices Sterling, his eyebrows lift so as to ask, Did it go well?

I give a small, unnoticeable nod. He looks relieved, yet slightly crestfallen all at once. I know he was hoping that it wouldn’t go well so as to not have me involved with someone like Riley O’Malley, though he would never say this aloud.

And even though I know Al would understand, I decide not to tell him about Sterling’s misconception with me, or even that we kissed all those months ago. Somehow, I feel like it’s one small favour I can do for Sterling Jones.

After we’ve parted ways with Sterling, I head back up to my dormitory and essentially just lay flat on my face for the next hour. I’m nervous: I’m really, really nervous. Or maybe it’s anxious. I actually can’t really place the feeling at all. All I know is that for the next thirty minutes until Al returns with a wand full of confession, I want to lay here with my face in this pillow. And maybe die.

I’ve no idea where Rose has gone off to, which may be part of the reason for my foul mood. I’m suddenly worried that the time has changed or that she’s run off and been eaten by the giant squid. So many things can go wrong tonight, and everyone knows how well I deal with stress.

“I’m sorry, but I have got to ask,” comes a sharp voice. Ivy, of course. I remain face down and try and tune her out. She seems displeased at my lack of interest in her interest. Oops. “What the hell is going on? The Weasley girl has been positively woebegone for weeks and dating that seventh year boy who quite obviously is only using her for something. And now you’re suffocating into a pillow.”

“Ungggmuhhherrrmuhh,” I reply into my pillow. I guess speaking face-down isn’t as easy as one would think, though it’s probably a good thing it only came out as a moan. It wasn’t my friendliest response, per se.

“I’m sorry,” she says through her teeth, “I don’t speak troll.”

I lift my face ever so slightly and retort, “I don’t speak bitch.”

“Go to hell!” she shrieks.

“I’ll save you a seat!” I yell back at her.

After a long stretch of silence she spits, “I don’t understand why you have to be so mean all the time! I was actually attempting a conver—”

This sets me off. “Me? Mean? Really? I never knew!” I sit up in my bed and jam my feet into shoes as I speak. “Honestly Ivy, do I even need to relay that number of times you’ve intentionally screwed me about or the fascinating array of insults you throw at me on a daily basis? In front of Albus, nonetheless?” As I turn tempestuously, I see her face paling and her lip quivering. “I really don’t get you, you know? Ever since the day I met you you’ve hated me. And believe me, I hated you, too. You tried to ruin my friendships and pry away Albus. You repeatedly humiliated me and probably are plotting to kill me. How can you not expect people to hate you when you act like this? I may be mean, but I never cross the lines that you do.”

“It’s Daniel!” she finally barks. “You’re so awful to him, you are! He fancies you so much, and you are so horrible to him, straight from the start! He’s not supposed to like you! You aren’t good for him! And it’s my job to protect him!” She yanks her hangings closed.

Well, that was a success.

I throw on my robes and disappear from the dormitory. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I didn’t. Honestly, I don’t really care anymore.

Once in the common room, I flop down on the sofa and try not to see Chaz and Blaine Donahue snogging on the window seat. I want to take every single couple at Hogwarts and just, I dunno, kick their shins a bit. Maybe even Al and me, too. Hogwarts was solace before my fifth year — I had Dara by my side. I was the one who sat back in my hub of delicious foods and comfortable robes and average grades that sniggled at Dara’s boy troubles. We played tricks on first years and spent our nights gossiping on the Astronomy Tower. Well, Dara gossiped. I just threw in my shiny insult from time to time.

But if I could, I think I’d want it all back. I didn’t have the school’s unforgiving eyes on me, like I was a piece of meat for them to judge. I didn’t have firewhiskey or boys that fancied me or terrible marks. Before, people didn’t like me because I was callous and bitter. And I was fine with that because it was me. Now they are scathing and resentful, angry that someone like me, selfish and antagonistic, could be anything above bottom-of-the-food-chain riffraff. But then there’s Albus. Albus.

My head hurts.

“Hey Becks,” says Fred, sitting down next to me.

“Hey Fred,” I reply, pulling my knees to my chest. “How’s it—”

“Valentin and Daniel broke up,” he says, cutting me off.

“I — oh,” I respond, a little taken aback. “That’s too bad,” I say. And then, “Actually, blimey, that’s right peachy. I was so sick of them.” I laugh.

He nods.

“How did that happen, anyway?” I query, curious. Dara’s surely off sulking somewhere. I should probably go find her and comfort her, but … meh.

“Apparently she dumped him,” he says, shrugging. “He didn’t say why.”

Phew. At least she isn’t the victim in the break up. That makes my job a bit easier. “So you must be pretty happy?” I ask.

“Why would I be happy?” he retorts, a sharp edge to his voice. “What are you implying?”

“I — nothing,” I recover, blushing. “Just — you must, uh...”

“I’m going to sleep,” he cuts across, then he rises and disappears up the boys’ stairs.

“Oookay,” I say to myself. That’s new. Since when does Fred Weasley snap at me? I clench my teeth. I shall have to talk to him about this. And smack him with a wet fish.

An hour passes. Maybe two. I stare at the raging fireplace, my eyes burning. Thirty minutes later, I do a few laps around the common room, because my leg’s fallen asleep. I imagine I how I must look, walloping around the room like a debilitated troll. Forty-five minutes. I’m making bubbles float out of my wand, but they are the colour of spinach. God knows why. Another hour goes by, I’m doing crunches. I do two. I’m winded by three.

Eventually it’s ten-forty-five and I am the only one left in the common room, watching a spider crawl back and forth across the back of the portrait hole, about ready to lose my bloody mind.

It swings open just before I’m about to take a spork to my eyes.

“Laney!” His bright eyes pop a bit in surprise. I assume my position on the ground may be a bit jarring if one isn’t expecting it. I decide to stand up, relieved that Al has returned.

“You’re back,” I relay, dusting a few crumbs off of my robes. I had divulged in a snack of pumpkin pasties at some point during my mental breakdown.

He grins a sheepish sort of thing, holding up his wand. “I got the it.”

“Brilliant.” I beam at him.

Returning the smile he says, “You’ve got really wild hair this year, you know that?” And pointing to his own, “We kind of match now.” He laughs at his observation.

“Oh, how clever you are,” I retort, glaring daggers. “It’s clean. I just can’t bloody control which way it wants to go each day.”

Al chuckles. “All right, you ready?” he asks.

I swallow. Please, please let this go well. “To expose Ri-slime to Rose?” I query weakly.

“You can still back down, you know. I can do this alone.” He shrugs.

I look sharply at him. “Let’s go.”

I can’t seem to go four feet without getting overly excited and knocking over a suit of armour or a glass artefact. I can't help it, I feel like a secret agent.

“Laney!” Albus grabs my fingers and yanks me backward, just before I’ve tumbled over and made even more noise, as I had done for the past three consecutive falls.

“It’s wasn’t me! I swear!” I squeak instinctively.

“You’ve just got to be light on your feet,” he whispers, a slight twinge of annoyance etched into his ever-patient tone.

This irritates me deeply. Where Albus is so intelligent that when someone doesn’t understand him he gets frustrated, I’m slow and get confused easily, and become aggravated when people expect me to just know everything. I glare at him and cross my arms. “Well I’m so sorry everyone is not as agile and witty as you!”

He doesn’t even attempt to mask his laughter, or even to maintain a straight face. “It has nothing to do with intelligence,” he says, chuckling.

This roils me up a bit. “Think I’m funny, do you?”

“Come on, Laney,” he whispers, another soft laugh escaping.

My face contorts. “I’ll have you know that I don’t have to stand for any of this!” I hiss, whipping around. I storm down the corridor like an enraged bull.

He comes trotting after me whispering, “Laney, stop, I didn’t mean it like that!”

I try to stick my nose in the air to show that I’m not interested in his weak apologies, when in doing so I lose attention in where I’m going and step right into the the disappearing step on a staircase. A sort of gargled shriek escapes my throat

Albus has his arms around me faster than I can tell what’s happened, pulling me from the trick step.

“Not bleedin’ likely!” I squawk, pink in the face, struggling to pull myself out of the step and swatting off Albus’s help.

He just continues pulling me and says nothing, pale in the face. When I’m finally free from the step he’s still got his hands around my forearms, tightly gripping the sleeves.

We sit there for a moment very quietly. “Al?” I whisper, giving my hands a slight shake to show that he’s still hanging off of me.

He let’s go slowly, still looking pale. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” I reply softly, staring down at my shoes.

He sighs, maybe kind of relieved, and stares around in the darkness. “Ever since I was nine, when I really noticed girls, and how they all swooned over James—”

“They swoon over you too, Al,” I correct. “You’re just more reserved than James. I find you infinitely more attractive, though.”

He shakes his head, a small smile forming. “All I mean is, you’re the girl I was looking for and I just didn’t know it. Not until I saw you that day on the train did I realize.”

Embarrassed, I fiddle with my clasp.

“And look, I know you’re not ready with the whole love thing” — I cringe — “and that’s okay. I guess I’m just trying to say that, even if you don’t, that’s how I feel. I don’t think that can change.”

Whatever prompts me to kiss him then — maybe to distract him from having to say those words back, or maybe because in all honesty, I do love Al — but whatever the reason, I do. And we snog right there on the staircase, right there with my charm bracelet on my wrist, and with my ankle throbbing from the trick step. Our lips move together, tea and honey, desire and confusion filling the space between us.

“I can’t stay mad at you.” I laugh and rise, dragging him with me. When I glance at my watch, I gasp. “We’ve got to go! It’s almost eleven o’clock!”

Al and I take off up the staircase and to the seventh floor corridor, my ankle pitching a fit. When we come screeching to a halt outside the wall, Albus sprints back and forth three times until a door blooms from the stone.

I gape at him in confusion. How did he even know what type of room they’d be in?

He shrugs and says, “Sterling told me.”

Bloody Sterling Jones.

“So — erm — what d’ya reckon is the best way to go about this?” Al asks me, his hand resting gently on the door.

I shove him along. “We haven’t got much time!” I reply nervously. “Just get in there!”

“Al? Laney?”

Albus and I whip our heads around and shriek, “Carter!”

“Bloody hell,” Albus says, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to save Rose!” Carter says indignantly.

Our jaws drop.

“Listen,” Carter says hurriedly, “She’s in the Room and—”

“We know!” Al replies, shocked. “That’s why we are here! But more importantly, how did you know?”

“I followed her this morning because I saw how unhappy she looked — that’s when I heard what that Riley bloke wants to do. So I talked to a Hufflepuff friend who confirmed it was a bet. I didn’t know what to do besides tell her — but I’ve been looking for her all day. I finally came here and we gotta save her mate!”

I grab Carter’s wrist and shove Al into the door. “Let’s go!” I hiss. “We haven’t any more time to doddle!”

Al gives me one, hastened look, and enters the room.

As I hobble (as quietly as I can manage, mind you) along behind him, I have to physically stop myself from falling back onto Carter in fright. It’s pitch black. The kind of black that sucks you in like a vortex, stealing away your breath. With a flick of his wand Albus has the room lit dimly, and we can just see the massively bushy head of red hair flip upward in surprise to reveal a quaking, pale Rose Weasley.

She opens her mouth as if to call out in shock, but cannot seem to make the words.

Albus rushes over to her, saying, “Rose, Rose, we know about tonight, we know what Riley’s plan is—”

She looks mortified. Her eyes flying from me to Albus to Carter. I hop over next to her and grab her hand, gently pulling, and Carter is in hot fleet behind me. “I w-wasn’t going to do it,” she whimpers. And then, “But, h-how did you know?”

Albus hugs her saying, “Listen, Rose — Rose we have to tell you something.”

She looks nervous. “W-what?”

“Riley — he isn’t who you think he is, he’s a bad guy, very bad.”

She looks scared but indignant. “No, he cares about me! I just should have been upfront with him—”

Albus swings his wand whispering “Repetere!” and out floods the voices of Riley and his dorm mates, admitting everything. Boasting that tonight he would win the bet and then dump her. It is worse, so much worse, than I had ever imagined. I watch Rose as her already pale face becomes nearly translucent.

Suddenly, she pulls her wand threw the air saying “Siliencio!” and the room falls still.

There is fire in her eyes when she jumps to her feet. “How long did you know!”

Albus, Carter, and I fall backwards in shock. “I—”

“HOW LONG?” she roars. I nearly go deaf.

The pain from my ankle is worsening and the sound of her ferocity brings me to dry heave.

Carter says, “Rose, we have to leave—”

She shoves Carter away and dives at Albus. “How could you do this to me? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME! HOW COULD YOU LET ME BE WITH HIM!” she shouts and I swear dust is falling from the shaking ceiling at her voice.

“Calm down Rose!” Albus barks at her, holding her arms down. I am afraid she might throttle him.

“I ought to curse you Albus Potter!” She claws at his face, ripping his glasses off and throwing them so violently at the ground that they shatter.

Panic has really taken Albus now, and he is stumbling blindly around.

Rose, not knowing that my ankle is badly hurt, wraps a fist around the front of my robes and yanks me into a standing position. I shriek in pain, sweat breaking across my forehead and tears welling in my eyes.

“You were supposed to be my friend!” she yells at me. “All of you—”

A sharp rattling of the doorknob causes Rose to nearly jump out of her skin. Her facial expression has gone from ravenous to terrified in a moment’s notice. She lets go of me and I stumble into a table, dry heaving again.

Albus has finally found his glasses and put them on, but they are cracked and hardly do him any good. “Are you mad!” he calls in the general direction of Rose. “Laney! Laney, are you hurt?”

Rose covers her mouth in horror.

“F-fine!” I manage.

“What have I done,” she whispers to herself. At the next rattle of the doorknob, she jumps.

“It’s Riley,” she cries, “Hide! Get out! GO!”

She begins to shove at us at random. I just stumble into the table again before I’m sick.

Albus is calling my name, but it’s too late.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Riley is standing in the doorway in all his glory, looking like he could wrestle a tiger. His eyes are flashing red and he glares at Rose, who shrinks at his attention.

“It was a bet,” she squeaks, meekly. “All of it.”

His eyes dart to Al, Carter, me, and back. “They told you that?”

“No—”

“THEY TOLD YOU, THEN?”

“Get him, Carter! Rose, Laney, run!” Albus cries out, but it’s no use. He’s facing the back of the room.

As soon as Riley has his wand trained on Rose, her eyes bugging, Carter darts in front of her and takes the first hit of purple light. He writhes on the ground, twitching.

“Incendio!”

A single, strangled cry escapes Al’s throat before his robes have gone up in flames. I scream. Rose screams. Tears are running down her face as she throws herself at Albus calling “Aguamenti! Aguamenti!” and as she shoots counter-curses at Carter, who inconsolable.

And then Riley’s eyes are meeting mine, and he’s mouthing something, and I’m gasping, blue light circling me and covering me and taking my breath away.

The pain.

I thought pain was the time I got bludgeoned in the head as a third year, or when I was seven and thought I had just produced magic for the first time when I stuck my finger in the outlet and got a nice shock. Or maybe even the time Netta’s granddaughter shoved me out of a tree and I broke my arse in four places.

But never in my life had I experienced pain like this.

I might as well be jammed in a Laney-shaped dent in the wall or flying through outer-space for all
I know. I could be writhing on the ground or in bits all over the place. Though none of it would really matter to me, because the pain is so horrendous, so blinding, coursing through my body in dreadful surges again and again, never stopping, that I’d rather be dead if it meant the suffering would end.

I don’t really know if I’m alive. There’s a ringing in my ears and something heavy on my chest; not to mention the endless pain that seems to flow with my blood.

I seem to be falling and then floating, strange hands on my face and back, too many hands. The flesh is cool and unsettling. I can’t see straight. Can’t think straight.

Eventually my subconscious is still, and everything goes black.

Author's Note: Major cliff hanger...

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Chapter 17: Escape Plan
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Disclaimer: JKR is like the big man on fanfiction campus. She own allllllllllll da stuff.

* * *

The hospital wing smells like a fart.

When I woke up here this morning, a sheen of sweat covering my body, limbs weakly aching at every move, it’s safe to say that I was a bit...befuddled. At first all I saw were the bright blue eyes of Madame Smitty, the school nurse, eclipsing my vision of the rest of the room. If it weren’t for my current physical state, I’d have popped up in surprise, perhaps smacking foreheads with her. Instead, I just laid there, weakly blinking around in confusion.

It wasn’t for a few minutes until my mind started to work again: piecing together things that I had forgotten and slowly recalling the night before. By noon, I am finally fully comprehensible.

Tugging at the uncomfortable button-up nightgown, I try speaking a few times, but fail. Immediately, my mind flies to being a mute. In reality, I just don’t know what to say. My bed is covered by a curtain, so I can’t see around me. I want to leave. Really badly. I also want to know a few other things like, I don’t know, what the bloody flobberworm has happened to me.

And then another thought hits me: what happened to Al?

A lump rises in my throat.

Carter?

Rose?

The second Madame Smitty has entered my section for what I assume is another round of potions, I speak. “Where is Albus Potter? Is he here?”

She smiles at me. “I see you are feeling better.”

Just from forcing those words out I already have a pounding headache and a faint ringing in my ears. No, I wouldn’t exactly say better. Worse might be along the right lines.

“You’re dehydrated. You sound like a gnome.” She hands me a small goblet with a lot of wispy potion in it.

I swallow the stuff quickly and again, I prompt, “Is Albus Potter here?”

She busies herself with the side table before saying, “He’s been out and well for more than four days, dear.”

My jaw drops. Again, I tug restlessly at the neck of my nightgown.

I’ve been out for four days.

Have I been...dead?

Her next words seem to reassure me. “Don’t worry, you’ve not been dead,” she says, sitting down on the edge of my bed and patting my knee affectionately. “Though, out of the four of you kids, you were the only one the boy hit with a Cruciatis Curse.”

As she says this, I feel it. Right from the marrow of my bones I can feel the lingering ache. The kind of full-boy ache that can only come from something so terrible.

However, I nod. Of course he hits me with an Unforgiveable. He hates me. As long as Al, Rose, and Carter are okay, I’m okay.

“What about the others?” I manage.

“Mister Hanes and Miss Weasley are both fine and attending classes again. Though, I will say, there are many that are anxious to see you.” She crinkles her brow slightly, obviously displeased at the healthy being in her hospital wing. “Mister Potter has been quite … persistent.” She glares down at the floor.

I snort and it hurts my ribs. The pain reminds me of a lingering question I’ve had, one that I’m not really sure I want the answer to. “Riley is —”

“Expelled.” She stands up and smooths the covers she had crinkled.

The pit in my stomach gives a slight clench and then releases. He’s gone.

Finally, the selfish question. “Am I going to die?”

“Child, don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps, fixing another potion. “Granted, you’re lucky you didn’t go mad, but people seldom die from the Cruciatis Curse.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m not up to date on CODs,” I retort, yanking the covers up to my neck and wincing slightly.

She sighs and hands me another potion. “This’ll knock out the pain for a bit.”

I take it in my hand and sniff the greenish fluid. “It smells like vomit.”

She gives me a challenging look.

“You don’t have to be a berk,” I say, rolling my eyes. I swig down the potion (it tastes like grass) and hand the empty goblet back to her. “So when can I leave?”

She laughs. “Oh, honey, you won’t be leaving for a while. You’ve been unresponsive for nearly five full days.”

I chortle to myself.

Yes, because a great beast like you is going to keep me from leaving.

“However,” she continues, “you do seem to be feeling better, and it’s about visiting time.” She removes the curtain from around my bed so that I can finally see the area around me. My eyes water painfully at the iridescent white walls.

And then I see him, straight through the window of the door. “Al!”

A smile breaks across his face as he sees me too, and he mouths something I cannot hear.

Madame Smitty wips around, hands on her hips. “There’s still another ten minutes before he’s allowed to come in—”

Sitting up slightly, I give her a weak push with my arm. “Let him in!”

“He’ll disturb the other patients!” she hisses tempestuasly.

I gape at her. “What other patients! I’m the only one!”

She looks huffy but sighs in defeat. “Fine.”

When she swings open the door, Albus hardly waits for her to slide aside before bolting over to my bed. His green eyes are alight.

“You’re all right,” he breaths.

I grab his hand. “Yeah, guess I am,” I say.

He laughs, sort of wildly, setting down in the chair next to me and running his fingers through his hair stressfully. “I just can’t believe it. I should’ve never let you go.”

“Hey now,” I say, “I would’ve gone no matter what you said. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

He looks gratefully at me, though shame is still colouring his expression. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

He lifts his hand up to me and covers my own. In this motion, his sleeve falls, and I finally see it. The puffy, pinks scars that have coiled around his forearm, and, I notice with a sharp intake of breath, all the way up to his neck. They are raw and inflamed, making his skin appear maimed. Slowly, I touch his arm, sliding the sleeve of his robe higher up his arm. “Al...”

He watches me carefully. “I could hear you screaming.” The way his eyes are slightly glassy, it breaks my heart.

“It was all you could do,” I say quickly, trying not to look at the burns. I squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t see anything — I couldn’t see anything!”

“I know,” he says, shaking his head. “I just — I hate seeing you like this.”

“Likewise.” I swallow, glancing at the fiery burns under his jawline. “Rose and Carter — are they okay?”

He nods slowly. “Hanes just got a Hysterical Jinx and Rose he hit with ropes to keep her from helping me. They’re both fine — pretty worried about you, actually. The whole school is talking about it.”

“Great,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. Just what I need right now. And then, a thought occurs to me. “Al?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we did the right thing?” I ask quietly. “Rose was so angry.”

He nods, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t really know, Laney.”

“Is she still—?”

“Mad?” he finishes. “No, she’s horrified at what happened. Naturally, she’s depressed, thinks it’s all her fault.” He sighs. “She can’t even come up here, she thinks you hate her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, shocked. “For the Bloody Baron’s sake — I did this for her!”

He laughs. “I know, I’ve tried explaining it to her about a hundred times.”

“Do you remember anything from that night?” I ask. “I can only remember up to being hit.”

He gives my hand a squeeze. “McCollough was on patrol on the seventh floor. Riley had left the door open, so she heard the screaming and came running. He was nowhere to be found when she got there. Carter and you were curled up on floor, bleeding and that. Rose was all tied up and I was — well, I was still on fire.” I swallow. “She put me out and called for help. All four of us were put into the hospital wing, except they sent me and you to Saint Mungo’s after a while because we were in the worst shape.”

What? I was in Saint Mungo’s!

“Anyway,” he continues. “We were both back at Hogwarts by the next morning. I guess Shacklebolt found Riley hiding with the Slytherins and he expelled him. Rose and Carter got out pretty fast, and I was out a day later. We were all really worried about you — you weren’t even responsive.”

I swallow. “I don’t remember anything from the past four days.”

He touches my cheek, watching me carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re all right.”

I begin to reply but am cut off by Madame Smitty, who is poking her head out from her office. “Visiting time is up, Mister Potter! She needs her sleep!”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Mister Potter!” Smitty prompts, tapping her foot and jabbing her wand towards the door.

“It’s all right, Laney,” he says, kissing my forehead. “I should go.”

I nod, feeling drowsy. “I think she spiked my potion with Sleeping Draught, anyway.” I narrow my eyes at the thoroughly indignant nurse.

He laughs. “I’ll come back tomorrow, all right? Sleep well.”

As he begins to leave, a thought bursts into my mind.

“Al?”

He turns around, looking concerned. “Are you all right? Do you need me to get Madame Smitty?”

“I — yes, I mean, no. No, I’m fine. It’s just...” I trail off, playing with the neck of my night gown.

“What’s wrong, Laney?”

I look up at him. “I just want you to know that I — I love you too.” A strange feeling of release overtakes me.

It takes a moment to register with him, standing there staring at me. Slowly, he takes on his old, lopsided smile. “I love you too,” he says.

And then he’s gone.

Humming the theme of the popular Muggle superhero Netta was infatuated by, Batman, I do a sort of ninja jump from my hospital bed to the ground.

Holy mother of hell and all that is awful, this place is so boring.

It’s been six days of laying here, staring at the flickering light, the white walls, and the one, crooked tile next to my bed. Not to mention, Madame Smitty has only been allowing one visitor at a time (apparently I’m still in a delicate state... sigh). So the rare times when Al has been able to make it up to the hospital wing (with O.W.L.s looming, you’d have to be mad to miss class. Or, you know, me.) we’ve only been able to visit for a few minutes at most. With all that, how can you blame me for wanting out?

So, in turn, I have developed an escape plan. And not just any old escape plan — a Laney Becks escape plan.

Which obviously can only lead to good things.

Fact: There are 199 ways to escape from any given hospital wing.

Also a fact: There is only one effective strategy, and that is mine.

And no, I’m not a pathological liar.

I’m perched on the cold tile in my hospital gown (probably quite the sight), scanning around for any movement. Out of the corner of my eye I can see my target — the door. Large and inviting, I long for it. However, I can see the faint glow of light spilling out from Madame Smitty’s study, and I know that if going to make it out of here, it’ll have to been done fast.

I crawl, quickly but silently over to her doorway, and slide the tip my wand underneath it. After readying myself I say, ”Mufffliato.”

If my spell has worked, then her ears should now be filled with a steady purring sound. It should give me just enough time to get to the door before she—

WHAM!

Suddenly the door to her study swings open and smacks me hard in the face. “Agghhhh!” I scream out, grabbing at my nose in pain, and sprawling out across the ground.

“Elena Becks!” she roars, grabbing my forearm tempestuously and yanking me into a standing position. “For Merlin’s sake, child, can you not just behave!”

“Help! HELP!” I call out, fighting against her dragging force.

She pushes me into the bed and yanks the curtains closed around it. “Godric’s panties!” she shouts. “This is the last time I’ll be putting you to bed!”

“This is against my rights!” I sputter hysterically.

Smitty looks close madness. “If I’m still alive by the end of your stay then I deserve a serious raise!” she huffs and, after a moment, she conjures a goblet and shoves it down my throat. “Sleeping Draught!” she shrieks, disappearing from behind the curtains.

Day after day, I lay here, miserably. I feel fine, and eventually I realise that the only reason I’m still here is for psychoanalysis. Because, well, I was under the Cruciatis Curse for a full three minutes, apparently.

However, the thing about me is, I actually am kind of insane. So how are they to know the difference between my natural state and an actual manic episode?

I have tried to explain the situation to Madame Smitty several times, but every time I get to the part about my ‘natural self’, she spikes my drink with Sleeping Draught and stalks off.

It’s late on Thursday, my eighth night in the hospital wing. I am unsuccessfully practising my Patronus while waiting for Madame Smitty to go to sleep. Once her light’s gone out, I’ll be able to roam around the room as I please. Not that there’s much to do in here, anyway.

Suddenly, I hear a slight creek, and see the silhouette of a very bushy-haired girl standing in front of me.

“Rose?” I say, shocked.

She smiles sheepishly at me. “Hi.”

“I — how are you here?” My eyes fly to Madame Smitty’s darkened door, and then the propped open entrance.

Shrugging, she holds out her wand. “Alohamora.”

I shake my head, still taken aback. “Long time no talk,” I say finally.

Tears have welled up in her eyes at my words. “I’m so sorry I haven’t come up to see you,” she whimpers.

“I’m sure you’ve been busy with classes and studying,” I say quickly, shaking my head.

“No, that isn’t an excuse.” She sits down on the edge of my bed, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. “I was scared, Laney.”

“Rose—”

“Albus, he told me you weren’t angry but I just — I don’t know.” She looks pleadingly at me.

I smile. “Rose, how could I ever be mad at you? Granted, you nearly broke my ankle...” I laugh.

She looks down at her folded hands. “Laney, I just want you to know that... I’ve never had a best friend before and what you did for me — you did what a best friend does and I guess I’m just trying to say — well, thank you.”

I blush. “I was just being a friend.” I take her hand and squeeze it.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” she whimpers.

“It’s okay,” I reply. “I’m fit as a fiddle, Weasley.”

It’s quiet for a moment before she reaches into her robe pocket and extracts a folded parchment, crinkled and torn. She looks down at it, a pained expression on her face. “Laney, I have to tell you something.”

I eye the parchment carefully, confused. “What’s up?”

Eyes welling up again, she holds it out to me, the green, iridescent letters glimmering in the candlelight.

Elena Marie Becks

The breath catches in my throat. “Rose...”

“All those months ago when my Uncle Harry gave you this... that night when you told me you’d read it... I — I copied it, Laney. I knew you wouldn’t read it so I duplicated it and kept it.” At my terrified expression she quickly says, “I never read it, I didn’t. I just wanted to have in case — in case you ever wanted it...” Again, she wipes her glassy eyes.

“The letter from my parents,” I say aloud, more to myself than anyone.

“You almost died that night, Laney,” says Rose quietly, her voice shaking slightly. “Please, read it. You can’t die not knowing.”

I look up at her, my eyes heavy and scared. This letter, this letter could change everything. In a few minutes, so many things could make sense. I could know why they left me, who they really are. I could understand. I lift the letter in my hands. “Okay.”

Surprised, she looks up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I reply, nodding. “I want to know.”

I slide my finger across it, breaking the seal. I take a deep breath, trade one, furtive look with Rose, and unfold the parchment.

Laney,

You do like to be called Laney, still, right? Sorry, if Elena’s the thing now. I guess I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s your dad writing, by the way. And I think I have a bit of explaining to do. I wish I could see you, I’m sure you’ve become so beautiful in these past seven years. Wow, seven years.

I’m so sorry. I’m sure you hate us — in fact, you should hate us. What we did isn’t right. But I hope, someday, you could find it in your heart to forgive your mother and me.

When I met your mother, I was still very young. After being home-schooled for so long, all I wanted to do was travel. To get away from the books and my parents and the closed off doors of my house. Your mother was my solace — the one who understood me. We travelled for three years before we married in Aruba. Two months later, your mother was expecting you. With a child on the way, we knew that this life could not be healthy — the travelling and constant uprooting. That’s no way to raise a daughter. We moved to London and interviewed at the Ministry. They had never heard of us before — both being home schooled — so when we demonstrated our abilities, they were shocked, and pleasantly so. We were rushed into an Aurour training programme, and right after you were born, we were full-blown Ministry Aurours. Within three months, an opportunity emerged — the Minister of Magic asked us to join a discreet team of Aurours to stop a group of straggling — though strengthening — Death Eaters. He encouraged us deeply, explaining our extreme potential to stop them, and how dire the situation was becoming. Your mother was so hesitant, worried about you. What would happen to our daughter if we were caught up in Death Eater business? Would she be hunted? The idea was unnerving. But the Minister assured us — it would only be a few months, nothing big. We would track the Death Eaters, take them down, and be back with our child as soon possible. Just until they were able to replace us.

But they didn’t replace us.

After we took down the original Death Eaters, a new group began emerging and soon, it was our full time job. And naturally, loving travel, we enjoyed the work. We couldn’t say no. But it didn’t come without guilt — watching you grow up, slowly disconnecting from us more and more, every day, was torture. We saw the neglect when we visited you. The disgust and resentment. How you clung to your Great Aunt like she was more to you than we were. Often your mother was inconsolable. But eventually we became so invested in our hunt, that we knew it wasn’t safe for you anymore. We had to make a decision. It was that year, the year you turned nine, when finally stopped visiting you. We had to remove any connection aside from letters, which had to be nonchalant at most. We knew you had to hate us. To think we hated you. It was the only way to protect you once the Death Eaters discovered who we were. Seldom Ministry officials knew who were and that we had a daughter.

About six months ago, we found a music box at one of their camps — highly protected. We were able to take down the Death Eater protecting it and get back to the Ministry. No one knew what it was or what it meant, but what we did know was that we were no longer hunting them — they were hunting us. Whatever the music box was — they wanted it. And they would stop at nothing to get it. That was when they found Netta and killed her. That was when we knew that if they found out about you, they would do the same. It was late one evening when the Minister, once again, sat us down. He told us what we had to do. Your mother was furious — she refused in every sense. But quickly, it became our only option.

If you are reading this, then I am sure you have gotten your Christmas gift from your mother and me. This music box, Laney, it must not be lost.

I know what you must be thinking — how could we put your life in danger like this? After not being there for you for so long? My answer is that I am so, so terribly sorry. Once again, we were faced with a painful decision. But Laney, people were dying. It would be so easy to find them once they were tracking the box, but we could never let them get near it. And we knew they would never expect it to be at Hogwarts with a student. A week prior, we found them trying to break into the Ministry, evidently searching for the box we had just sent out to you. Because of this, we were able to finally identify them. But they escaped right from our fingertips.

Their names are Pippa and Theodore Osiris, and they have a son and a daughter in your year at Hogwarts.

Laney, please, if there is one thing you’ll do for us, please keep that music box safe — you must take it with everywhere. Protect it with your life. Once we can capture them, we will write you. We will be a family again, Laney.

I hope you can forgive us. We are so, unbelievably sorry. And Laney, we love you. We love you so much.

Dad

My eyes are wide like saucers, and they lift to Rose.

“What?” she asks frantically. “What did it say, Laney?”

“Ivy,” I gasp.

She shakes her head, confused.

I take the letter in my trembling hands. “Rose,” I manage. “I need you to get me to Gyffindor Tower — I’ve got to get my parent’s music box.”

Author's Note: ...yeah.

So, this was a really important chapter. The biggest so far, I think. This is the official turning point of the story. I hope this lived up to your expectations! I also hope that you have reacted to this, ha. THAT WOULD BE IDEAL~

Ash

http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com