Chapter 65 : There's No Escaping Your Love
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Well baby I surrender
. . .
Never ever end of all this love
Well I didn't mean to do it
But there's no escaping your love
Reasons that I love Anastasia
- She’s a dumbarse
- She can’t sit still . . . ever
- She’s really clumsy and does stuff wrong all the time
- She’s gorgeous
- She’s the best kisser I know
- She gives a bloody good, well . . . you know
- She’s the only person I know that could take a fifteen foot fall on the Quidditch pitch, break her ankle and go ‘Oh, no, it’s okay. I can get up. Oh, fuck it - no, I can’t.’
- She’s got the attitude of a tomboy with the body of a porn star. (Yeah, us wizards have that stuff too . . . Haven’t you ever heard of Playwizard?)
- Did I mention she’s bloody gorgeous?
- She compliments my feminineness very nicely
-She’s my girlfriend
- My life would be so boring without her
And that list was how I entertained myself on the plane ride over to Ireland, where we were meeting with a second branch of the Order. We were posing as Muggles; my thoughts were that it was not a good idea (since Voldemort’s main target was Muggles,) but, whatever.
The plane landed and James sprinted out of the plane, jumped to the ground and cried tears of joy over the soil. “Come on mate,” I said, slapping him in the back of the head as I walked by him, much more calm and collected. “Man up!”
“We almost died on that thing!” he cried.
“It was turbulence; it happens all the time,” Dumbledore explained serenely, offering James a hand.
“Don’t bloody care . . . Could have died . . . Lily,” James muttered under his breath, as we followed Dumbledore and a few select Order members through the tall, grassy field the private jet had landed in.
Very inconspicuous, Dumbles. Now we just look like a bunch of rich Muggles, who may or may not have crashed their plane do to a drug induced euphoria.
We walked through the field before arriving outside a glass building. It was big and . . . glassy.
“Now, let’s fix our attire, shall we?” Dumbledore waved his wand and every person in our little group now adorned a Muggle suit. (The girls, of course, had girl versions - I suppose that was pointing out the obvious, eh?)
We all made our way into the building, before coming to a shiny metal thing.
“El-e-va-tor,” I sounded out, bending down and squinting at the sign.
For the first time, I noticed a short little man in a red suit. He had a funny red hat on as well. And he was giving me a funny look. “Yes, it is. Are you going up?”
I looked to Dumbledore, who nodded. “Er, yes.”
The man nodded and put a key into this little pad besides the door. I looked on in complete awe (along with much of the rest of the group) and these shiny silver doors slid apart, and revealed a small room. Inside, there was a red, velvet couch, and another funnily dressed man.
“Floor?” he asked, after our party of seven had entered the small room - apparently, the elevator . . . I think what they meant to say was "The Lift." As soon as I saw it I knew what it really was.
“Four,” Dumbledore answered.
The man nodded and pressed a button. There was lots of buttons. I really wanted to press them all and see what happened, but that internal sense of ‘don’t-be-a-dumbarse’ kicked in for once. Probably a good thing.
Everyone in the elevator (besides Dumbledore) let out a startled yell and stumbled as the thing jerked into motion. I was quite disoriented; I couldn’t tell if the thing was moving up or down, or left or right.
I'd never ridden a lift before; it was a Muggle thing. Perhaps I should have taken Muggle studies, I reasoned.
However, I was faring much better than James. The boor bloke was just not having a good day. When the elevator jerked, he clung, screaming to the nearest thing, which was in his case, the red man who pressed buttons.
Let’s just say that the red man did not look pleased.
“You’re an off fellow,” he told James. “But, surprisingly, not the first person to get so startled about the elevator today . . . I say, it’s almost as if you’ve never been in an elevator before.”
James laughed nervously. “That preposterous! Muggles go on el-ev-ators all the time, and I’m a Muggle. Can’t you tell?”
I smacked my hand to my forehead. Honestly, that bloke was dumber that I was.
The man looked curiously at him and distanced himself from James as much as possible. James screamed once again when the elevator halted. This time, with lack of red man to cling to, he dropped to the ground. The doors slid open again and everyone hurried out, Dumbledore picking James up and giving him a small push. “Sorry,” Dumbledore apologized, as we left. “He’s not feeling that well today.”
The poor, poor red man look apprehensively at all of us. “Right . . .”
“Good day,” Dumbledore said cheerily. The last person to step out, the doors closed behind him, and he turned to face a third man dressed in red, outside these doors. “There’s a meeting we’re supposed to attend . . . You wouldn’t be able to help me find the room, would you?”
“Of course I can, sir. Name?”
“Ah, yes, follow me, please.” Dumbledore followed first, and the remaining five of us trailed after him.
The man stopped outside a room. I tried to peer into the windows, but they were heavily tinted. “You may go inside.”
“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, before opening the door and stepping side.
I glanced around the room. It smelt funny - like paper and staples. There were large windows that spanned entirely from the floor to the ceiling on the far wall, and when I walked over to them, I felt as if I would fall out. In the center of the room was a large, oval table, surrounded by plush-looking, rolly chairs.
“Good afternoon,” said one man, in a fresh, blue suit. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.”
“That, we do.”
As it turned out, that branch of the Order of the Phoenix had come across something that we had been missing for quite a while . . . Peter. They brought him out, bound and gagged.
“We weren’t sure if he was really with you, or if he was a spy for Voldemort. I apologize,” the man had directed that at Peter. “But since we found you in the company of his followers, we couldn’t be sure whether you were a captive or a supporter.”
“It’s - it’s no problem,” Pete stuttered, as they removed the gag. I didn’t blame Pete for the nervousness he was expressing; I would tend to think being bound and gagged would do that to a person.
Let’s just say, it was a happy reunion.
Afterwards, we made our way back to the plane. James was forcibly pushed on, as even he tried with all his might to cling to the wing outside. Luckily, I was stronger than him. In fact, I was stronger than everyone.
When I got back to my seat, there was an owl perched nonchalantly on the headrest; there was white stuff on my seat.
Stupid bird, I thought. You shit on my seat
However, the mess was easily cleaned up. It wasn’t until after I had sat down and gotten settled that a realized the owl held a scroll of parchment. I took it and unfurled the paper.
I’m sure you didn’t expect a letter from me, but I feel there’s something you need to know. You can tell Anna eventually, I suppose, but it’s probably best to wait a little while. (Or she may already remember, I don’t know.)
Last year, when you and Anna dated, there was an . . . Incident. An incident involving accidentally inhaling some botched potions (on Anna’s part) and bearing a secret (on my part.) As it was, one of the potions was Veritaserum, and Anna . . . Well, she proclaimed her love for you, and forgot about it five seconds later.
I didn’t know whether to tell anyone or not, but I decided against it, because I was worried that Anna would freak out. Lots of elaborate schemes go on in her head, you know . . .
Anyway, I just thought that you had a right to know, now that she’s realized she loves you and that whole issue is settled.
P.S. - How was she? And I’m winking now, in case you couldn’t tell.
It was quite a bit on information to take in.
Allegedly, Anastasia had been in love with me for the past year or so, and Darren hadn’t thought to tell me. (Or, he had, but decided it was a better idea not to.) I was angry at him, for a few moments, before I decided that he was right in not telling me.
I mean, I did have a reputation for screwing things up, and that was certainly something I wouldn’t want to screw up.
And, on a humorous note - he’d asked me how she was . . . Well, that would certainly be a fun question to answer, and got me looking forward to seeing Darren again.
“What’s that, mate?” I looked up to see James sliding nervously into the seat next to me. We weren’t even in the air, yet, and he was in the preemptive stages of a panic attack.
“A note from Darren.” I tossed him the parchment.
“Sirius.” I looked up to see Dumbledore beckoning towards me. I left a giggling James to the letter, and got up from my seat to see Dumbledore. He maneuvered me towards the abandoned back of the plane.
“What is it?” I asked.
Dumbledore was serene as always, though perhaps a little downtrodden. Things like that were never good. “Your brother.”
He offered no other details, so I urged him to continue, despite my slight disinterest. I had barely spoken to my brother in the past few years - we’d always gotten on well enough, but I knew for a fact that he had gotten involved with Voldemort already. And he was young - in the same year as Anastasia
“He was killed by Voldemort. From what our inside sources can tell us, and what we can deduce on our own, it seems that he attempted to back out of a duty put upon him.”
The only unnerving part about that was death. I was indifferent to my brother, but, once again, death had struck someone I knew. More and more, every day. Each day brought someone I loved closer and closer to death.
With nothing to say, Dumbledore and I stood, an awkward pair, for a minute or so. Finally, I nodded, thanked him for informing me, and went to take my seat next to James again.
When I got there, he was laughing and slapping his knees, waving the letter in the air. “Sounds like Darren wants to do your girlfriend!”
I rolled my eyes at my senile best mate, taking the letter back and hitting him over the head. “But don’t you see? It’s not just a dream - Anastasia really does love me And now we can spend the rest of our lives together, and have lots of little babies named Minnie, and-”
“And James ”
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I taunted him. “No, silly. You can only name your baby after someone if they’re dead.”
“Minnie’s not dead,” James pointed out.
“Well, she’s an exception.”
At that point, the conversation between James and I ended, because James was too busy hyperventilating and buckling his seatbelt.
At the front of the plane, Pete was being attended to by a Healer, who was checking him over, making sure that he was in full health. She touched a spot on his left arm and he recoiled sharply.
Damn Death Eaters . . . What the fuck did you do to my friend?
A/N: Next chapter is Graduation! Hooray!!
A/N: Wow, I think this is my shortest A/N in months . . . Well, that's because my brain is fried! But, I am done with all three APs! Let's hear a 'woot! woot!' and for anyone else out there who's all done with their's, pat yourselves on the back because you got through those bastards alive! :D
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