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Clash by shenanigan
Chapter 33 : Stunned
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 68

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I should have played more video-games as a child. 

That was my only thought as I knelt down behind the toppled over table, safe from the shuddering booms and sparks of spell-light drizzling over me. Eyes squeezed shut, spewing a wonderful stream of profanities under my breath, I clutched my hands into fists and furiously cursed the existence of Legos. 

Yes. You heard me. Legos. Every person has their special downfall. Achilles and his heel. Superman and kryptonite.



You know - those stupid, toy little pieces of plastic that, as a kid, you stack in piles to build houses and shit? Yeah. Maybe if I hadn’t spent my nerdy childhood being so fucking obsessed with Legos, I could have instead passed my time sitting in front of a playstation, dousing myself in videogame violence and gore. If I only could have been a normal kid, maybe just the teensiest better at Grand Theft Auto, then I’d be better equipped to handle this situation.

I mean, I’d have better reflexes, for one. Everyone knows videogames hones your reflexes. And trust me, that would come in handy for all the - oh, I don’t know - dodging PIECES OF BROKEN CEILING THAT FALL THROUGH THE AIR AND TRY TO DECAPITATE YOU going on at the moment. Yes, thanks to the massive fighting that’s tearing up the ballroom, this fun activity has apparently become the new party game. Forget pass the parcel. Now, it’s ‘run and leap around like a samurai while trying not to get pancaked by jagged bits of building.’

So, yeah, maybe if I’d had my hand-eye coordination honed as a child via Wiztendo, I’d be able to go out into the battle and find my friends and family instead of cowering behind a table.

Fucking Legos.

Next, this would be a shit-to-the-load less scarier if I had been desensitized as a kid. Once you’re exposed to the vivid horrors and zombie-bloodshed-galore of videogames when you’re twelve, nothing else seems like that big of a deal. Not even what appears to be a massive earthquake/rhino stampede/rebirth of the Greatest Evil Wizard of All Time happening at a Christmas ball.

And lastly: thumb strength. If only I’d spent my earlier years jabbing buttons on a plastic controller, the muscles in my hands would be strong enough to perform the most necessary task at a time like this: finding James Sirius Potter’s neck, wrapping my fingers around it, and wringing away.

Because the pricking frick had abandoned me. Without so much as a ‘see ya, sucker!’ he’d detached his face from my lips and got up and left. Just like that.

I mean, honestly. I know the kid got the famous hero’s complex that’s been passed down from every male Potter since the beginning of time, but this is not how it’s supposed to work. He’s supposed to rescue me — aka the damsel in distress — from harm, carrying me in his Quidditch-toned arms as his shirt accidentally rips off in the process. Then, after all the fighting is over, he’s supposed to take me to somewhere romantically clichéd, such as a peaceful lagoon/white-sand beach/field of flowers, where I can coo over his bravery and bandage his battle wounds until the sexual tension gets to be too much, and we make sweet love under the nearby waterfall/lapping waves/starry sky.

And honestly, this scenario would have been fine by me (even the waterfall bit. Especially the waterfall bit). Or at least, it was better compared to what he'd actually done in reality: leaving me behind a rickety table that provided absolutely no protection from the dangerous spells and malicious Voldy-supporters raging war two feet away from me.

Hero’s Complex: YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG.

I shrieked embarrassingly loud as a particularly noisy boom made the ground tremble and dust crumble from the ceiling. Back glued to table, I tried my best to stifle the panicked tears blossoming in the corners of my eyes. It was dark enough. The last thing I needed was my vision getting even more blurred.

Think, Agatha. I berated myself, gulping in desperate breaths of sooty air. Use logic. Work through the situation. Keep what little cool you have and figure this out.

Let’s assess the situation: I was sitting behind a table. Five minutes ago, the Dark Mark had appeared out of thin air, and now people were fighting for reasons I knew not. It didn’t necessarily mean anything catastrophic. I mean, there had been cases before of petty criminals conjuring the Dark Mark to strike fear and create a little trouble. But... There had been nothing to this extent before. At the Ministry, no less.

I focused my gaze on the wall in front of me. There was a brownish hole singed into the lavish wallpaper, wisps of smoke writhing around its edges and into the air. And something about this stupid, burnt hole (perhaps the overwhelming ugliness that was floral wallpaper?) made me snap out of it. I knew I faced no other choice. I couldn’t stay behind this table forever. I had to get up and help, submerge myself in the battle and hopefully find my friends.

...Fucking Legos. Fucking James Potter. Leaving me here with no choice but to step up and actually act like a good person for once... Merlin. It was as if the universe were conspiring to turn me into a human worthy of respect, or something.

The horror.  

On the count of three, you will get your lazy arse up, my brain ordered helpfully. I swallowed.



Two and a half...

Two and three-quarters...

Two and four-fifths...

Two and six-eighths...

You know what? How about on the count of twenty? Yeah, twenty might be easier.

Flopping against the back of the table, I shoved my hands into my hair. This was useless. I was a Slytherin, for fucks’ sake! I wasn’t built for battlefields and wizarding face offs! Try as I might to mentally work up the courage, I couldn’t do it. I was panicking, the ticking little meter in my brain switching furiously between ‘Fight’ and ‘Flight’ mode. It couldn’t decide.

Slowly, I craned my neck around and peeked out from behind the table. Shadowed figures were darting back and forth, violet, sapphire and golden lights blooming from their wands. I waited with bated breath for any hint of green.

I watched as one figure crumpled to the ground after a crimson stunning beam streamed straight into his chest. No one paid him any attention, too busy absorbed in their own fights. Shouts and yells slammed against each other, reverberating through the dank air. Smoke and dust swirled. It was hard to tell who was on which side... Not that I cared — I just wanted to find my friends and get out alive.

And that was when — as if on a cue — a Christmas miracle happened.

It wasn’t exactly like baby Jesus being reborn or the Grinch saving Whoville, but it was enough to give me hope again. From the murky darkness, a glimpse of silver streaked by. Barely noticeable — just a small glimmer in the corner of your eye. It darted back and forth, skirting the walls... Until it found me and snuck quietly behind my Supreme Table of Fortress and Protection.

A Patronus.

More specifically, a bobcat — regal in all its vapourised glory, stalking back and forth in front of me. Aidan’s Patronus.

I stared at it, huddled with my arms around my knees, not knowing what to do. And then the bobcat opened its mouth and in my brother's clear, boyish voice — spoke one word that struck me to the core:


That was it. Nothing more. But that one word reverberated through my body, echoing, and I could hardly believe the gloriousness of it all. Aidan was safe. My brother. Safe.

It felt like I had shrugged off a lead jacket. As the bobcat strutted away, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t just sit around having a little one-woman tea party while a fucking battle waged behind me. Aidan was out there. I had to find him. Because yes, even though he had said he was safe... That word had two other ones tacked on silently behind it:

For now.

Snapping to action, I lurched forward onto my knees. Everything was suddenly clearer now. There was a precise To-Do list starting to slowly form inside my head. It went a little like this:

Step One: Put your big girl panties on.
Step Two: Come out from behind your pathetic Table-Fort.
Step Three: Find your loved ones.
Step Four: Kick some Death Eater butt.

Fire and spell-light blazed vaguely behind me, but to this swirling typhoon of dust and debris and shrapnel, I didn’t pay an ounce of attention. It might as well have been sitting through another History of Magic lesson for all I cared, just like the old times — with Freddy slumped next to me, drooling on my notes, and Aidan on my other side, trying to draw glasses and a sharpie-scar on a sleeping Potter’s face. See? Old times.

Except, you know, with Death Eaters. Yeah.

My hand snatching out on its own accord, I grabbed a glittering, jagged piece of glass off the cluttered ground and — without a second of hesitation — slashed through the fifty-galleon, handmade unicorn-silk dress that Ginny Weasley bought me for Christmas.

Now that we’re on the topic, I should probably send her Thank You card for that.

Some fabric clenched in my teeth and the rest wrapped in my fist, I ripped the dress (and here’s the part where, if you listen close enough, you can hear the sound of a million haute-couture fashion designers tragically weeping) in two, successfully making it so that the dress was now to my knees instead of at a pesky floor-length. Much better.

I was on a roll, freshly liberated from my Disney Princess ballgown. Pointy-shank-glass in hand, I leapt to my feet and stalked out from behind the Tortress (Table Fortress — now half off at Ikea! Hide from murderous Death Eaters in style!).

I didn’t know what I expected. The battle to completely freeze, or a spotlight to come down from the heavens and illuminate my entrance. But nothing changed — the fight waged on, darting spell beams, shuddering dust. Nobody seemed to notice the scared ginger girl standing by the sidelines, alone, defenseless.

I didn’t have much time to contemplate this, however, as there was a whizzing noise slashing sharply through the air and getting louder with every second. I turned around just in time to see a wooden chair hurtling my way at forty miles per hour, apparently having just been possessed by some errant spell. It was big, thick, heavy-looking... And did I mention it was coming towards me at forty-miles per hour?

“SHIT!” I leaped to the side just in time for the chair to miss its target — instead immediately smashing into a million splinters against the wall behind me.

Well then.

I immediately assumed an attractive Quasimodo Position as I crouched and ran from the scene. I didn’t know where I was heading — I just kept a look out for a rumpled shade of toffee brown hair, or a glint of strawberry blonde. All the while, I stayed close to the side, always within arms reach of ugly floral wallpaper.

After this is all over, the Ministry should seriously use this opportunity to launch a renovation and reconsider some of its interior design choices. Honestly. You know it’s bad when widespread destruction and spell damage makes the place look better.

“Aggy? AGGY?”

The sudden voice jerked me out of my thoughts. Quickly, I whipped around — my neck cricking painfully — to see four people who, at the moment, I’d never been happier to see in my life:

Aidan, Dom, Eveyln and Freddy were all crouched behind a crumbling pillar I’d passed without noticing. Their heads popped out from the side, one above the other, in an almost comical matter as they regarded me with wide, wild eyes.

I stared back, knowing I must look insane with my dress reduced to no more than a shredded toga, my hair an untameable cloud of frizz, and my face smeared with soot and dust. Something boomed behind me, setting off a light that cast everything in a strange, UFO-esque glow for a fleeting millisecond, and I flinched automatically.

“Shit, someone’s having a bad hair-day...” And of course that would be the first thing out of Freddy's mouth. “Ow — hey! Did you just elbow me, woman?”

Dom glared up at Fred exasperatedly from her position under him in their Row of Bodiless Floating Heads. “Bloody shut up, will you? This isn’t a time for jokes! This is battle! This is life or death! This is war — ”

“Now that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" And there was Eveyln, ready to throw in her (obnoxious) two sickles as always.

“Oh be quiet, you cow!”

“Aw hell no! You do not speak to my woman that way!” Freddy. Obviously.

“For the last time, I’m not your woman — ” Evelyn said in a bored monotone that made it clear they'd been over this before, but her interruption went ignored as Freddy was already in the process of thoroughly reprimanding his cousin, his neck bent awkwardly so that he could face the (rather unresponsive) top of Dom's head.

“ — I don’t care if you don’t like Evelyn! She is my woman — ”

“Not your woman,” Evelyn repeated emotionlessly.

“So you better behave yourself around her, you hear? Because family or no, I will cut you! Nuh-uh, puta! Do not make me get feisty!”

There was a long silence in which Dom launched into a prolonged session of petulant eye-rolling and Evelyn looked vaguely disturbed (something Fred was too busy snapping his fingers in Z-formation to notice). Finally, it was Aidan’s turn to pipe up. He was the last head in the row, regarding everything above him with a bemused look on his face. “Um, Freddy, no offence... But can you stop transforming into a sassy Latina woman for a minute so we can figure out a gameplan for whatever's going on right now?” 

“You got it, chica!” This was coupled with a head bob and a strange rotating pelvic motion. 

I need to find new friends.

“Um — hello!” I shouted from where I was still standing like an idiot. I threw my arms out, indicating the chaos surrounding me. “Death Eater uprising? Abject terror? Fiery inferno and destruction? Any of this ringing a bell?”

The Row of Bodiless Floating Heads all exchanged affronted looks.

“Well, there’s no need to get snarky — ”


“Drop the shank, keep your hands in the air, and walk slowly forward...”

I threw down my piece of glass and marched to the pillar, veering my eyes to a roll. They were ridiculous, the lot of them. Between Freddy, who couldn’t even take a raiding of the Ministry seriously, to Dom, who’d willingly kill someone and throw a cocktail party serving their blood if the situation demanded it... Well, it’d be a miracle if we all made it alive.

Aidan, uncharacteristically more serious than the others, ducked out underneath everyone and was the first to pull me into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered, gingerly brushing soot out of my hair. Next was Dom, whose bony arms were surprisingly strong as she wrapped me tight. “Me too. You had me worried there, Aggs.” Then Freddy came around, enveloping the two of us in a giant bear-hug until we told him to get off because he smelled weird (“Hey, this is the essence of a man. Yeah. Waft it in. Waft.”) And lastly, there was Evelyn, who simply gave me a snotty look and said, “Really? You really thought you could pull off purple?”

Good to know some things never change.

When meet and greet was all over, the five of us crammed together as tightly as possible behind the pillar in a sort of team huddle. It was time to get serious.

“Okay, game plan,” Aidan declared, his hands on his knees and his determined eyes darting between us. Behind our protective pillar, another explosion went off, causing more shrieks and a blinding flash of white light.

Dom’s face looked eerie in the glow. It was smudged with soot like mine, and I could see the adrenaline shimmering in her gaze. “Definitely. First, let’s get out of here.”

“What about James? We have to find him first!”

“You mean you don't know where he is?” I blurted out, gaping. “He went off to look for you guys!”

Immediately, four heads swiveled towards my direction, all with identical, curious gleams in their eyes.

“Erm, I mean, that’s what he said... When I was talking to him earlier.” I looked down. Oh interesting, a floor. “You know how we like to... talk.”

Cue: awkward silence.

“An-y-ways,” Fred cleared his throat conspicuously. He snapped his fingers in front of Aidan, who was still staring shrewdly at me. “If James isn't here, then he must be trying to find Aunt Ginny.” He turned to me to explain. “She was the one who brought us to this corner in the first place — told us to stay put. I don’t know where she went off to though...But I’m sure she’s fine.” There was not a single hitch of worry in Fred’s tone. He was talking easily, with all the confidence in the world, as if he were simply reporting the weather.

“Her and James are probably off having showdowns with evil Death Eaters and getting murdered,” Dom countered depressingly, ever the ray of sunshine.

“No, Potter wouldn’t. He’s not that stupid,” I mumbled, but even I heard the doubt in my own voice. Two words kept repeating themselves inside my head like a never-ending chant — hero’s complex, hero’s complex, hero’s complex... Who was I kidding? The prat was probably taking an Avada Kerdava for the Minister at this very moment.

“Well there’s only one thing we have to do — go out and find them.” Aidan drew me out of my internal despair, his jaw firmly set. He had everyone’s full attention and he knew it — standing there, so sure of himself... I almost felt safe. Somehow, without anyone noticing, my brother had turned into a leader.

Dom, however, wasn’t so convinced. “Are you kidding me? We’d get killed!”

“Oh, and what do you propose we do? Sit around here like a couple of giant targets? Hang on, I think we’re missing the giant neon arrow signs to point over our heads. How ‘bout I go grab those — ?”

“Right, because I’m sure the Death Eaters are going to treat us so much better if we go out there and introduce ourselves first. 'Hi, my name's Dominique Weasley. Now would you mind killing me quickly? I'm not really into the whole slow-and-painful thing.' No! Let’s stay here!”

Freddy shook his head, expression uncannily somber for once. The mention of Death Eaters had snapped him out of his joking mood — he too, like Aidan, looked very serious and, strangely enough, older. “I think Aidan’s right. Going out and fighting is the right thing to do.”

“Ugh! Not you too, Freddy! What is it with you Gryffindors and your stupidity?!”

“You mean courage, Dom?”

“Same thing!”

“Fine then, you can stay here while we go and find James!”

“Oh yeah, like I’m bloody well going to let you go out there alone!”

“Then what do you suggest we do, eh?’

“I don’t know, but we can start by not taking moronic suggestions into actual account!”

“Will you lot just shut up!” Eveyln, who had been looking boredly at her nailbeds for the past five minutes like we were chatting about this year’s bloody Quidditch season, suddenly snapped, her voice twinging with anger. The rest of us started, swinging our gazes to her. “I am sick and tired of this stupid bickering! Maybe if you lot weren’t so busy trying to bite each other’s heads off, you would have noticed that.”

Slowly, we all followed Evelyn’s pointing, well-manicured finger to the intricately-ornated ceiling above us, and I noticed two things:

One: the Dark Mark lingered, a sickly green, misshapen figure wavering quietly in the air. But the glass case — and more importantly, the Sword inside — was gone.

Someone had taken it.

Two: Lining the wall, high towards the ceiling, was a balcony of sorts. It ran alongside all four walls, looking down on the ballroom like a catwalk.

And on this catwalk, I could distinctly make out a figure with rumpled dark hair, his back against the wall, wand held out as he slashed dazzling, multicoloured spell-light at three other hooded figures. Three other, hooded figures that were attacking him.


“Oh my god,” Dom whimpered. “Is that — ?“

She didn’t get to finish her question though, because already Aidan and Freddy were pushing past her, drawing their wands as they ducked out from behind the pillar and, without a backwards glance, went sprinting off into the crowd. I watched them go, too incredulous to speak. They had reacted so quickly. All they had to do was see Potter, sense just the slightest hint of danger... And they were off, racing through the crowd, jostling frantically past people — not afraid in the slightest to risk their skins for their friend.

“FREDDY! AIDAN! GET BACK HERE!” Dom was besides herself with fury, her pear green eyes alight, two red patches blooming in her cheeks as she screamed hoarsely after them. But it was no use; she was ignored.

Immediately, she turned back to us, gaze desperate and frantic and imploring Evelyn and I to take action. I opened my mouth, knowing I had to say something but not sure what. All I could think about was Potter on that balcony.

What on earth was he doing up there? He was outnumbered! Backed into the corner! He was so stupid to get himself in that kind of situation! Stupid, stupid, stupid bloody prick! He was going to get hurt! My chest clenched tightly at the thought. And my brother and Freddy were going to follow him...

And what was I going to do? Watch as it all unfolded in front of me?

I turned towards Evelyn. She didn’t look afraid or worried. Her eyebrows were cocked in their normal bitchtastic way, her mouth pulled into a scowl that said, ‘This is nothing more than a mild annoyance and general waste of my time.’ For some reason, it was almost comforting to see her like this. It was nice to know that, no matter what was going on, Evelyn Stanford would always lack a soul. 

“Idiots,” she mumbled to herself as she oh-so-casually pulled her wand out of her cleavage, and I didn’t know if she was referring to the boys or to us. She sighed melodramatically, like this was all some big chore she wasn’t in the mood to do. “I suppose we should follow them to make sure they don’t get killed, eh?”

I turned back towards Dom. Her lower lip was trembling. She looked lost, torn between the unattractive options of staying behind or going after the guys. For a moment, no one spoke. And then, slowly, marking the first time Dom Weasley had ever agreed to anything that came out of Evelyn Stanford’s overly-glossed mouth, she nodded.

I held out my hand. Dom took it. Evelyn, with one last icy look over her shoulder, swivelled around and strutted out from behind the pillar like she was at bloody Fashion Week in Paris. 

And with that, I had no choice but to follow her into the battle waging around us.


The balcony, it turned out, could only be reached through a super-secret flight of stairs that wasn’t so super-secret after all, seeing as its only protection happened to be a small, wilting potted frond sitting in front of it. Seriously. What ever happened to the classic tricks of disguise and illusion, huh? I mean, did anyone remember the good ol’ days when you could pull a book from its place on a shelf, and a secret passageway would magically appear? Obviously, the decorator of this place hadn’t watched enough episodes of Scooby-Doo as a child. He lacked some serious secret passageway imagination.

The three of us tromped up the steps — or as much as you can tromp when you’re wearing stiletto heels and ballgowns. We could hear the boys thundering ahead of us, probably going up two at a time. It was a contrast to all our clicking and clacking and — what else? — bitching.

“Ugh, this is awful!”

“Isn’t there an escalator or something we could take?”

“Would you bints stop complaining and just hurry up?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that climbing the bleedin' Stairway to Heaven would be in this night’s activities!”

“Just shut your fat mouth, will you? I think I see the end!”

When we finally reached the last step, sweaty, out of breath and gasping for air, Aidan and Fred had already jumped into the fray. I could barely sketch out the vague figures in the darkness, but I saw my brother grab one of the hooded figures by his shoulder, and in a strangely graceful motion, punched him right in the face. Freddy shot a stunning spell at another figure, who after barely dodging it, turned around and started to duel him.

It was all just a dizzying blur of lights and startled shouts, but somehow, I spotted Potter in the middle of it all. Confusion was flitting over his face - confusion tinged with vexation.

“Freddy, Aidan! What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your arse!”


“Don’t mention it!”

“Yeah, this is what bro’s are for, mate!”

And in the midst of dueling with their deranged assailants, Aidan and Fred each bumped their chests with their fists, kissed two fingers, and then held them to the sky, shouting, “BRO LIFE!”


Potter seemed to agree with my mental assessment. He whipped his head around to glare over his shoulder at his two best mates, all the while slashing jinxes and hexes at his opponent. He looked scary in the spell-light. The gash above his eyebrow had reopened and was gushing crimson, his face smudged with soot, his hair ruffling slightly in the artificial wind that seemed to have churned itself up from all the magic rumbling in the air.

“Bro Life? Wha — ? No! Get out of here!” He hollered, furiously ducking as one of the hooded figures slashed at him with a stream of blue light. “It’s too dangerous, just get my mum and leave!”

“And let you have all the fun? Nice try, mate!”

“Wait, your mum? What does Aunt Ginny have to do with - ?”

“Oh my god!
” Without ever making the conscious decision to do so, all of a sudden I was dashing out from behind Evelyn and Dom, dodging spell light and smoke as I ran across the balcony, heartbeat skittering frantically in my chest. Because, slumped against the wall, pale, redhair spilling everywhere and frighteningly limp... was Witch Weekly’s woman of the year, the wife of The Chosen One and basically what every young girl should aspire to be. Ginny Potter. Unconscious. On the ground.

“Bennett?!” Potter said.

AGGY?” Aidan yelled.

“EVELYN?” Fred roared.

"DOMINIQUE!" Dom cried triumphantly and, wand thrust proudly in the air, ran into the middle of the brawl, where she started sending hexes flying at the nearest hooded figures.

Hip cocked, Evelyn shrugged before she, too, began fighting. “Bro Life.”

But I could care less about our Sassy Girl Power Entrance, or the blokes' surprise at our presence. By this time, I had reached Mrs. Potter. I dropped unceremoniously to my knees, scrabbling around for her wrist. My hands were shaking so hard that it took several minutes for me to find her pulse but, thankfully, it was there. Soft and slow, but gloriously there. Her skin was cold and clammy, and there was a slight frown puckering her forehead. Slumped against the wall like that, legs sprawled out from under her, she looked so frail and small... Like she was just asleep and having a really bad dream.

And then I looked next to her and almost came close to being one pair of underwear short.

Because peeking out of the beautiful nude-chiffon-and-goblin-crafted crystal-masterpiece that was her dress, there shimmered something into existence, beginning to take solid form. A ruby studded hilt, winking cheekily in the light.

Under Ginny Weasley’s left leg had suddenly appeared, before my very eyes, the Sword of Godric Gryffindor.

I looked between the hilt of the sword, and my friends risking their lives for each other. Freddy, who had a nauseating burn in his right arm from a Searing Hex. Dom, who was back to back with Potter and throwing out jinxes like it was her job. Oh god.

I watched as my brother shoved Evelyn out of the path of a bright purple hex before flicking a silver starburst out his wand at whoever had sent it her way. The Death Eater ducked and sent one back, and they began dueling. And then... Almost as if everything were happening in slow motion, three things occurred in succession — dominoes toppling:

Evelyn, having just been shoved out the way, stumbled and fell to the ground, her wand clattering away from her. Freddy immediately turned from his Death Eater at the sound of her surprised shriek, and a yellow hex punched him right in the shoulder. He crumpled to the floor.

I was watching this, numb, frozen, almost as if I were realizing a bad dream, like I’d known all along this would happen. All the noise had been sucked out the room. I saw Dom's yelping at Fred’s sudden collapse, her face twisted in a way I’d never seen before, but I couldn’t hear her. I saw the Death Eater Fred had been fighting make his way towards Aidan, saw Evelyn notice, saw Potter notice, saw my brother, oblivious... And yet I couldn’t even hear my own gasp of warning. All I could do was look and look — thinking no, god, please no, once was enough, don’t let this happen again, please — as the Death Eater caught Aidan around the neck with his arm, dragging everything to halt.

Immediately, everyone stopped. Gone was the spell light, the raucous shouting. It was silent. Aidan’s mouth dropped open, but it was all happening too fast for him to have time to be more surprised than that. The Death Eater grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back, and with his other hand, pressed his wand to my brother’s throat.


Sound was slowly coming back. Someone was screaming — no, no, no — and I realized that the voice had been Dom's. Her voice had turned into something animalistic, something scraped hoarse.

“SHUT UP!” The Death Eater holding Aidan screamed, grip tightening as my brother kicked and struggled. Dom snapped her mouth shut. I watched silently, insides quivering, heart ramming itself so hard against my chest it hurt. “NOBODY TALK OR ELSE I'LL KILL THE BOY, I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM!"

Silence throbbed through the air.

Potter lunged for Aidan, but was quickly checked into the wall by the third Death Eater. Evelyn, who had struggled to her feet and was trying to drag Fred’s body away from harm, froze in her crouched position.

"I'm not letting anyone go. Not until he,” the Death Eater sneered, wheeling around to point at Potter, “tells us where the Sword is.”

“I—told—you—I—don’t—know.” Potter choked out, grimacing. The third Death Eater had his forearm against his neck, pressing Potter into the wall as hard and roughly as possible.

“DON’T LIE!” The Death Eater’s voice was higher than I’d expected, running thin and watery with hysteria. “SHE HAD IT!” He gestured to Ginny’s form. Everyone swiveled their gazes to follow him — nobody paid me, the scared girl crouching in the shadows, any attention.

Except Potter. For a split second, I locked gazes with him, my mouth gaping open, expression panicked, pleading for anything he could give me — help, an idea, a miracle, a single fucking shred of hope. Potter seemed to understand, and his amber eyes flickered with something — something that looked a lot like pain. Then he closed them and dropped his head against the wall, and the moment was gone. It was the first time I’d ever seen James Potter give up.

“I don’t know what she did with it,” Potter gritted out, slowly, hatefully. “After you hit her with that curse, it disappeared into thin air. You saw it yourself.”

All I could do was watch as Aidan struggled against the Death Eater’s grip. He was trying to hide it, but I could see the clench of pain in his jaw. The Death Eater shrugged, a sick smile creeping behind that mask. “Then you give me with no choice, don’t you, James Potter?”

And that was when something flicked on inside of me, and I was no longer Agatha Bennett: Walking Factory of Teen Angst and Snark. No, instead, something automatic and...blank seemed to take control of my body. Something that knew exactly what to do, something that wiped my mind clean of any doubt.

I stood up, grabbed the hilt of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor in my clammy hands, and slid it out from under Mrs. Potter’s leg before — heaving with all my strength — swinging it in the air. It was surprisingly heavy for my weak noodle-arms, and I staggered backwards a bit, the silver of the sword glinting dangerously in front of me.

“Hey!” I called, and my voice, surprisingly, didn’t shake. “Hey, you — yes, you, asshole!” Angry adrenaline buzzed inside me. Immediately, the Death Eater holding Aidan swiveled around. His mask hid his features, but I could sense a jerk of surprise in his expression. Aidan grunted in protest, lurching frantically towards me, but the Death Eater’s grip was still strong as he stared at me, shrewdly, eyes piercing.

“Looking for this?” I waved the sword around triumphantly, but the taunting effect was slightly ruined when I almost dropped it and impaled myself through the toe. Ahem. Recovering now. “Yeah, that’s right. Maybe if you weren’t so busy dueling teenagers, you’d have noticed the one thing your Evil Overlord — whoever that is — sent you here to get... This shiny knicknack, I’m guessing.” I waved the sword some more. I could almost feel all it’s potential power creeping up my arms — it was scary and exhilarating all at once.

Aidan and the rest of them were staring at me with alternating expressions of shock and anxiety. Dom was breathing heavily, the two red splotches back on her cheeks. Evelyn’s eyebrows were raised; she seemed mildly impressed. The other Death Eaters were gaping stupidly. And Potter — Potter was still pressed against the wall, expression stricken, looking all the world like someone had punched him in the face (oh wait, that had been me).

“Bennett — ” He began. Something about his voice frightened me, but I chose to bury that feeling. No way could I turn back now.

“Wow, you lot are really not good at this,” I interrupted casually, turning to the shocked Death Eaters. “Must have been sleeping through all your Evil Villain Classes at Death Eater High, eh?” I was one-third dizzy on victory, two-thirds scared half to death. The result was a disturbing mixture of rambling and overconfidence. “What do they even teach you there, huh? Poor Dental Heigene 101, that’s for sure, ha ha — ”

“Agatha. Agatha, stop — ” Potter was saying, but he was cut off by his Death Eater crushing him even harder into the wall. Dom winced.

It felt like my heart was trying to pound itself out of my chest. My knees were shaking, the hilt of the sword slippery in my sweaty hands. But I knew what I had to do. The answer was so obvious, it was glaring me in the face.

I stared at the Death Eater. He looked back, snarling.

“If you want it, come and get it,” I declared calmly.

And that was when I turned around and ran like hell.


Here’s the thing about running through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, away from a psychotic criminal who is out to kill you, all the while carrying a giant-ass sword that probably weighs about the same as a young, dangerously obese child.

It’s not very fun.

In fact, it’s kind of a sucky experience. I would not recommend it. On the scale of General Life Suckishnesss, I’d rank it somewhere between having your teeth pulled and the death penalty.

The gleaming darkness of the Ministry's cavernous atrium seemed to close in on me as I sprinted as fast as my body would allow, the black marble walls smearing into a blur. Without having Aidan around to remind me why, exactly, I was doing this, I was slowly starting to panic. Completely alone, lungs on fire, with a medieval sword as my only form of defense. Yeah, a fat load of help that thing would do for me. Why couldn't the Founders of Hogwarts have picked better magical weapons for the priceless artifacts they would pass down to future generations? I mean, we would not be having any problems right now if I was holding the Kalashnikov of Godric Gryffindor instead.

And also, just to add to my list of why I hate the Ministry of Magic Official Interior Decorators — what is the point of a fucking atrium? Because I literally think it might be to 'make life as hard as possible for the helpless victim in a chase scene.' This room (if you can even call it that, it was more like a glorified hamster tunnel) had literally no where to hide. It was just metres and endless metres of shiny dark marble wall.

Hence: I was screwed.

My bare feet slapped against the cold ground — I had kicked off the stilettos a long while ago, realizing they wouldn’t exactly be beneficial to my general life goal of not getting my head Avada’d off. It was becoming harder to run; I could hear my own panting bursts of breath, mingled with my thudding heartbeat. My muscles were screaming in agony — seriously, I’m pretty sure this Sword had been made out of the same thing as The Titanic — but I had to keep on going. My life kind of depended on it.

Just kind of.

BANG. A shriek slipped out of my lips as something to the right of me — I think it was one of the torchlights hanging on the walls — exploded in a violent blossom of fire and dust. I whipped my head around, breath catching in my throat, and saw the three Death Eaters rounding the corner and into view. One of them had his still-smoking wand extended.



I shook my head, tried to keep running — left foot, right foot, pumping my arms back and forth — but it was useless. I was getting tired. They had their wands, and I had a bloody medieval sword. No where to hide, no where to go. There was a glossy, larger-than-life door towards the left some distance away, but I’d never be able to make it in time. This was it. Game over. I was dead.

I closed my eyes, thought about Fred crumpling to the ground after the curse hit him, Potter bleeding against the wall, Ginny unconscious and frail. It was over, I suddenly realized. There was no where to go, no one to turn back to. I stopped running and, eyes fluttering open, turned around.

It came quickly, with no warning whatsoever. “Stupefy!”

I fell to the floor with a thud, the Sword clattering to the ground next to me. It had been a weak Stunner — my vision was fading in an out, yet I could still make sense of what was around me — but it’d worked. My whole body felt like it’d been turned to lead. I couldn’t move a finger — all the feeling had oozed out of me, replaced with something heavy and metallic and pounding.

I heard footsteps near me. Through my bleary eyes, if I squinted, I could just barely make out a pair of black dress shoes, encrusted with mud and above them, an ankle tattoo. Two symmetrical diamonds, stamped into hairy bare skin. Then, there was a scraping sound as one of the Death Eaters picked up the Sword, chuckling darkly.

“Thought you could escape us, eh, love?” He wheezed jubilantly. “We’ll show you.” He nodded to the other Death Eater. “Barnes.”

‘Barnes’ took out his wand from his cloak and pointed it downwards at my chest. I stared ahead at the vaulted ceiling swimming above me, oddly calm. How could it be that, just hours ago, I had been complaining about going to a Christmas Ball? And now I was here — plastered to the floor of the Ministry, a wand pointed at me, most certainly about to die? None of this could be real, none of this could be happening.

There was no panic. Instead I just felt... resignation. Acceptance. Somewhere, deep inside me, I knew it wouldn’t help to put up a fight.

“Say goodnight,” Barnes’ voice was a slow, dripping hiss. Next to him, the other Death Eater cackled.

I thought about my mum, and Dom and Freddy and all the people I loved. I thought about Aidan. My brother, who always smelled like fresh laundry, who, at ten years old, once rescued a dying squirrel and then ran up to his room when it died so no one would see him cry, whose relentless determination meant that he never gave up on anything — whether it was a girl or a Quidditch move or a sodding Rubix Cube. I was so proud of him. He was growing up, I could tell, and one day he was going to be someone great. Someone who changed lives.

And I thought of Potter and all our memories together — us arguing explosively, my fist colliding with his face, him bandaging my cut, me falling asleep in his bed, his lips brushing mine that first time in the Astronomy Tower — it all flitted through me, plus the everyday moments that I thought I’d never remember. That one time he levitated my textbooks out the Gryffindor Tower, or when I doused him in orange juice at breakfast, our random bickering about everything and anything... So many moments. And I’d never even get to say goodbye.

It was probably for the best. I wouldn’t know what to say to him if I could.

I closed my eyes. I knew it was coming.

“Avada — ”

I squeezed them shut harder. How unfair it was that fifteen years, a million memories, countless moments, could all end in just six syllables.

“Ke — ”


There was a loud BANG! and then a screech of surprise that wasn't mine... and a whimper that maybe was. Some invisible force seemed to wash over me — I didn’t know what at first — relief, salvation, enlightenment? But then I realized it was just pure magic. A spell. Followed by a clattering noise, thudding footsteps, another BANG! and a dying, croaking yelp.

And then, I could hardly believe it: silence. Just like that.

The unfinished incantation hung in the air, incomplete. My breathing was back. I could feel the blood rushing in my body to my head, making me feel dizzy, delirious, awake.

I was alive.

"Agatha. Agatha.

I opened my eyes and came face to face with none other than Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, crouching in front of me with his hand supporting my head. The laugh lines around his famous green eyes were scrunched together; he was smiling gently but sadly. All possible questions about how he could be here, how he knew what had been happening — they left my mind as I looked in his eyes. The Sword was in his other hand. The three Death Eaters were lying, frozen on the floor, bound together by some magical rope.

I could hardly believe what was happening was real. I was certain that, in about two minutes, I would wake up from this very strange nightmare and come back to real life. In fact, it was all so overwhelming, I felt like I might hyperventilate.

“It’s okay, Agatha,” Mr. Potter was saying. His voice was deep, smooth, so sure of itself. “Everything is going to be alright. You’re a very brave girl.”

And I think that was it, what pushed me over the edge. Nevermind that I’d just experienced unspeakable trauma and violence. Nevermind that I’d just witnessed the very infrastructure of my society’s government crumple into nothing. Nevermind that I’d come an inch away from Death and had been promptly yanked back by the Saviour of the World, the Chosen One Himself, the Father of the Boy Who I Frequently Hated and Sometimes Snogged.

No. It was the fact that he’d called me — Agatha Bennett — brave. Something I’d never been called before. That was what did it.

I blinked. Looked into the eyes of Harry Potter himself, and murmured dreamily, “You have a very lovely home, Mr. Potter.”

And then I promptly passed out.


When I came to, it took a while for me to realize where I was. The first thing I noticed was the air — crisp and fresh and sharp, nothing like the cramped dinginess of the underground Ministry.

Everything about me felt fuzzy, blurred around the edges. I blinked my bleary eyes open and shut. We were outside, I realized. There was gleaming, clean snow on the ground. The sky above us was slathered thickly with the bright cobalt blue of a moon-lit midnight.

I was slumped against the back of a Mungo’s ambulance, a shock blanket wrapped around me. My mouth was dry. Yuck, it tasted like something had died inside it. Shouldn’t morning breath be reserved for — oh, I don’t know — the mornings?

“Oh good, you’re awake.” I looked down to see an older dude in Healer robes, crouched on the ground, his warm fingers checking my pulse.  He looked better fitted to be working at some New Age spa then a hospital. His hair was buttery blonde and slicked back with so much hair gel, his head was glowing like a second moon.

We seemed to be in the outdoor park right outside the muggle Ministry entrance. All around me, there were other people being treated in Mungo ambulances by bustling people in white uniforms. Sirens were flashing, glazing everything in eerie red and blue light. It was hard to make out who was who amidst all the people reuniting, chatting, hugging... Where was Aidan? Dom? Potter?

“I guess I am,” I croaked, shaking my head bewilderingly.

“You were out for an hour. The Ministry’s very own Sleeping Beauty.” The Healer drawled somewhat derisively, and I scowled at his sardonic tone.

“Does that make you my Fairy Godmother?”

“Touché.” Hair Gel held out his hand, face wry. “Draco Malfoy.”

Scorpius’ dad. I should have known; they resembled each other closely, both having the ability to blind people with their scalps and all. I took his hand. “Agatha Bennett.”

“AGATHA!” Before Draco Gelfoy could say anything else, I was blindsided by a flurry of red-gold hair. Dominique, wearing a pastel, puffy down jacket that basically turned her into a baby blue marshmallow, hurled herself at me at inhuman speed. “Thank god you’re alive! You had me terrified to death!”  

“But what you did was pretty sick. Or so I heard, seeing as I was kind of, you know, unconscious for the majority of it.” Freddy piped up from behind her, grinning good-naturedly.

“Freddy!” I cried, relief flooding through me. I tried to stand up to get closer, but Hr. Malfoy firmly pressed me back down to sitting. “You’re okay!”

“Correction: I’m better than okay.” Fred exclaimed, smiling joyfully. The moonlight shown in his eyes, which were filled with indescribable bliss. “The hex that hit me actually shattered my collar bone! Can you believe the good luck?”

“Um, no?” I said tentatively. From next to me, Dom rolled her eyes, mumbling under her breath something that sounded a lot like ‘Here we go again.’

“I know, right! Shattered! They’re going to have to completely regrow the bones! What can I say? I’m a lucky bastard.”

“Er, great!” I replied brightly, before whipping around to Hr. Malfoy and hissing, “What pain medications have you guys been using, exactly?”

Freddy answered my question for me. “Just a Soothing Draught, and that’s it. But Aggy, listen — they gave me a sling! A sling!” Grinning, he flapped his arm to gesture, and sure enough, I could see the navy cotton material it was cocooned in. “I'm going to pick up so many chicks with this. Bitches love slings.”

Only Freddy could break his arm and turn it into a blessing. The kid was weird.

“How’s Mrs. Potter?” I asked, ready for a change in subject.

“Okay. She got hit with three Stunning Spells,” Dom answered solemnly, as Fred was now too busy pretending his sling arm was a machine gun and making strange sputtering noises as he aimed it at bewildered bystanders. She shook her head, wedging herself next to me on the ledge of the ambulance. “But she’s awake now, keeps insisting she doesn’t have to go to the hospital. I think they’ll let her go home as long as she agrees to stay bedridden.”

“Aidan?” I pressed further, hungry for information. Dom turned to face me straight-on, surprised.

“You mean you haven’t seen him? He hasn’t left your side the whole time! Until now, that is. Dunno where he went.” She paused. “He was the first one to get to you, in fact. Well, him and Potter.”

“Potter?” I repeated. Dom nodded.

“I’d never seen him like that, Aggy. He was freaking out. Him and Aidan went running after you and the Death Eaters, got to you right after Uncle Harry did. In fact, Potter was the one who carried you outside. You don’t remember any of this?”

“Not a thing.” I grimaced. It felt like there was white noise clouding my brain, like it was all a fuzzy, distant dream. I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the ambulance, feeling the winter breeze scrape against my cheeks.

“You scared the shit out of him, Aggs. He — he saw you almost get hit by that curse. You know. The curse.” Dom murmured lowly.

“Oh,” I said noncommittally, wrapping myself tighter in the shock blanket, and that was that.

The rest of the night passed by quickly. Aidan came back, apparently having been getting me some hot tea. Aside from some bruises around his neck, he was doing fine. In fact, he spent the remainder of the time sitting right next to me, always within reach, shoulders tense and alert. He didn’t say a word, though, choosing to remain uncharacteristically silent. Freddy, on the other hand, babbled on about this and that, how tonight I had somehow acheived ‘Boss Status,’ how he really badly wished someone had filmed him getting hit by that curse, how he was planning on naming his sling ‘Robert’... Thanks to him, there wasn’t one moment of silence the whole night. Dom, meanwhile, had decided to dedicate her time to trying to flirt shamelessly with Hr. Malfoy, who was both uninterested and clueless to her advances.

“Are you sure I don’t need a physical, Healer? I think I could really use a quickie..."

“I see. Are you feeling dizziness, nausea, or pain anywhere?”

“More like a burning sensation, if you know what I mean.”

I winced. That one had been particularly bad, even for Dom.

“Oh. Well, in that case I can recommend some ointments...”

I tuned out Dom’s undeterrable flirtfest, scanning the field with restless eyes. Too be honest, I was too tired for this. I knew I should be all revitalized, having just narrowly escaped death and whatnot... But honestly, instead of life-changing revelations or a newfound appreciation for being alive, all I was experiencing right now was a desire for a hot shower.

That was when I spotted him.


Without a word of explanation to anyone, I stood up, wrapping my blanket tighter around myself, and shuffled my way towards him.

He was talking to a Healer and looking extremely grim. There was a scary-looking gash on his cheekbone, but the stitches above his eyebrow had been patched up and wiped clean of any blood. His hair was rumpled in the back — a sign that he’d been shoving his hand through it like he always did when he was agitated or annoyed.

“Make sure your mother gets plenty of fluids. Dehydration could be really dangerous for her at this stage. And try to avoid excess movement, heavy lifting...” The Healer was saying, but I paid him no attention. All I had eyes for was Potter, and all I could think about was that moment, before the Death Eater had hissed those fateful words, when everything between the two of us had flashed before my eyes.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly, bouncing on my toes. But Potter didn’t even look at me, his eyes trained steadily on the Healer droning on and on.

I sighed impatiently. “Um, excuse me, but do you think you give us a second?”

The Healer halted mid-sentence and turned to look at me, affronted. Okay, I'll admit that had been a little rude. But hey, I was the Ministry’s Very Own Sleeping Beauty. I could do whatever I wanted. Fuck money, get bitches and all that.

“Alright,” The Healer blinked. He nodded towards Potter, and then to me. “Goodbye, Mr. Potter. Take care.”

And then he ducked out.

There was a silence. Potter remained rooted to the spot, watching the Healer go and still refusing to look anywhere in my remote direction. His eyes were two harsh shards of amber.

“So that was pretty wild, eh?” I said a little awkwardly, watching Potter’s jaw clench and unclench rapidly. I adjusted my blanket. “Um, how are you?”

With no warning whatsoever, he wheeled around to face me, fiery gaze slamming into me full-force. Snow dusted his tousled hair, and his hands were shoved into his coat pockets. “Really, Bennett? You really want to do this right now?”

I drew back, surprised by his sudden hostility. “What?"

Potter regarded me for a moment, anger in his eyes, before he shoved a rough hand through his hair. “You're truly oblivious, you know that?” he spat.

As he turned to walk away, my own temper sparked. What was his problem? I almost get Avada’d, and all he can do is batter me with snark and disdain? Insensitive much?

“Excuse me, but what the fuck is your problem?” I hollered at him, voice snapping in the wind. I knew I probably should have just let it go, but I couldn’t help myself. If there was a fight to be picked with Potter, you could guarantee I would sniff it out.

Slowly shaking his head, Potter swiveled around. “My problem is that back there in the Ministry, I told you to stay behind that table, and what did you decide to do? You went and played out some bloody Xena the Warrior Princess fantasy and almost got yourself killed!” His voice was rising steadily, the frustration leaking into his tone. He turned away, teeth gritted.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about! Your ego’s all bruised because I hadn't done what you told me to?" I countered, voice pitched high with disbelief. "Newsflash, moron, you aren’t the boss of me! You left me behind, and I was scared and in danger, and I had to make a choice, okay?"

Potter took a step back, shaking his head, expression incredulous. He clamped his lips shut, gaze crackling with volatile electricity. For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind whistling and the dull chatter of the oblivious people around us.

When he spoke again, it was in a low, simmering tone.

“You’re selfish, Agatha Bennett," Potter's voice was low and calm, each word uttered with quick precision. "You go barreling through life without any regard for others, without even considering that your actions might have consequences — ”

Selfish?! How can you call me selfish when all I was trying to do was save my brother?  I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t force my mouth open. All I was capable of doing was staring at him, the wind teasing through my hair, wrapped in that ridiculous blanket. There was something watery and thick lodged in my throat.

“It doesn't bother me that you didn't listen, Bennett. What bothers me is your attitude behind — not just tonight, but behind everything. You blunder through all aspects of life with only yourself in mind." Potter was vicious, unrelenting, his outrage mounting with every word. "You see yourself as martyr, don't you, Bennett? Surrounded by idiots who can't help themselves, who constantly need your help and, worst of all, your pity. Ever the superior one, Bennett, you've deluded yourself into thinking you're the only one who can save them, too blind to realize they don't even need saving in the first place.”

I heard the dull truth throbbing in Potter's words and felt my stomach lurch unpleasantly. Maybe he has a point, I couldn't help but acknowledge. How many times had I rolled my eyes at my friends' antics? How many times had I made a big deal out of helping Aidan with one of his screwups? I did see myself as a martyr, and as this recognition dug its claws in, I couldn't meet Potter's scalding gaze. For once, I had no response. Even though tonight, my friends had actually needed my help, that didn't change the fact that every other day, I was trying to boss them around and coddle them as well. My eyes flicked downwards as the ground suddenly became very interesting to look at.

“Well congratulations, Bennett," he was saying, tone now void of any emotion. HIs eyes were cool and blank. "You finally did it. You saved them. Your medal should be arriving in the mail any day now.”

My head was throbbing. It felt like someone had reached inside of me, grabbed my intestines, and twisted them into a knot. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t even do that. He was right. About all of it. Completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent right.

“And now you come up to me, acting all 'buddy buddy,' because that’s what’s convenient for you, isn’t it?” Potter threw out his arms. He laughed breathlessly, disbelievingly.  “But you don't get to decide when things are okay between us and when they're not. I can’t pretend like that. I can’t deal with the constant back and forth and fighting and not-fighting and all your stupid, bullshit drama, Bennett. Sorry.”

"Hypocrite, much?!" I finally found my voice. It seemed to have been hiding somewhere along my dignity. “One moment, you tell me I mean nothing to you, and then the next you're snogging me! Do you know how hard it is to keep up with that?" I jutted my chin out, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "I mean, tonight, at the ball, don’t you happen to remember a teensy kiss between us?” 

“You mean the one you tried to use to get your way, just like you do with everything else?” Potter’s words were frigid with disdain. He folded his arms across his chest, shrugging emotionlessly. “Yeah, all too clearly.”

And to that... To that, I could say nothing.

“I’m done with this, Bennett.” Potter said tonelessly. There was only finality in his voice. Nothing else, no other feeling. The anger in his eyes was long gone. “And I’m done with you.”

He turned around. He was about to walk away, I could tell. And... And, I realized, I couldn't let him. If he walked away from me right now, I would lose. I wasn't sure what, exactly, but I would just lose. 

"They meant something to me, Potter," I hollered at his back. At first, I was just saying it to say it, to get a reaction out of him. But as the words crumbled out my mouth, I realized that they were true. They had to be true. What else could explain the way all my memories with him had flashed in front of my eyes, or the twisted, clenched feeling I got whenever he said the word 'Nora'? "The kisses, the fights, whatever the hell happened between us... It all meant something to me."

Potter's shoulders were tensed. He turned around, slowly, mouth pressed into a flat line. "It never should have happened. Any of it." And something inside me seemed to twang a bit, like he had his finger pulling against a rubber band inside my body, snapping it back and forth. Twang, twang, twang. 

"I'm glad it did," I said, fiercely, defiantly. My hands were trembling. We stared at each other for a bit, his expression completely closed off.

Then he said: "Don't be."

And with that...He walked away and it was all finally over. The mindgames, the fighting, the bickering, the agonizing, the emotional-rollercoasting. I knew that he'd ended it. Simple as that. Done. Over. Never again.

And I had lost. 

A/N: So I am sure about 99.99% of you hate me/Potter passionately right now, but let me just say this was a long time overdue. I know you all love Aggy (or at least, I hope you do), but you have to admit she's been acting a little bratty lately. Many of you have mentioned it in your reviews, and I (as well as Potter) would have to whole-heartedly agree.

I know it feels like Jaggy took a huge step backwards, but that's not the way it is, I promise! There is still a lot more fun to come :)

So, I'm curious as to what you think: did Potter go way too far, or was he in the right? Do you believe he's really done with her? And what, in the name of all that is holy, is actually Aggy's middle name? 

That's it for now, folks. Updates will hopefully come faster as I'm almost done with my first semester (if I can make it out alive, that is).

Keep safe and warm,


P.S. I don't own Potterverse, Legos, or Grand Theft Auto, which is property of Rockstar Games.

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