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I.O.U by Lady in Waiting
Chapter 4 : Interrogation
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 4

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By the next morning, Yvonne had almost grown accustomed to the stares and catcalls that followed her to the Great Hall. She was not, however, used to the attention of the Potter-Weasleys. Throughout her school career, Yvonne was proud to say that she was one of the few witches her age that had had almost no contact with the famous family. Now, however, they smiled at her, they waved at her, they even hugged her on occasion – Lily especially.

It was weird. Not only was it weird, but it also made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be wrapped up in the crazy world of the Potter-Weasleys. Yvonne liked staying out of the limelight and being one of them was not going to help with that.

To make matters worse, that morning as she innocently ate her toast and jam, a letter arrived. In deep purple ink her name was neatly printed on the front and at first she was none the wiser. When she opened it, however, and allowed her eyes to inadvertently drift to the foot of the page she froze.

“Oh my god,” she whispered and Libby looked up from her new issue of ‘Which Broomstick’.

“What?” she asked sharply, one eyebrow raised.

“The Potters have written to me,” she said slowly, drinking in the purple text. Nora gasped loudly, pulling the parchment from Yvonne’s grasp, squealing.

“Harry Potter wrote you a letter? Oh my god! This is so cool!”

Yvonne sat quietly as Nora read aloud some of her favourite quotes from the letter which included “We are eternally grateful”, “We cannot thank you enough” and “We will be forever in your debt” while Libby commented. In truth, she was thankful when the bell went and she could excuse herself from her friends to go to Muggle Studies – a subject which neither of the other girls had taken to NEWT level. To her disappointment she was interrupted on her solitary journey.

“Yvonne, hi!”

Great. It was Albus. She smiled politely and waited for him to catch her up.

“Hi Albus. Are you feeling better?” she asked as they began to walk again. He said that he felt fine and then, of course, began to thank her profusely.

“Here,” he said taking her satchel from her shoulder. “I’ll carry that for you.” Yvonne rolled her eyes.

“Is this you paying me back then?” she teased, grudgingly handing her bag over. He shook his head grinning.

“Oh no. I’m still working on that one. This is just me being gentlemanly,” he added with a smile as they entered the class room. He placed the bag neatly on her desk and gave her an awkward half-wave goodbye before going to his seat. A red flush spread across her neck and face as Yvonne wondered about how strange this must look to everyone else. She thanked him quickly before sitting down and pulling her books from her bag. She worked diligently throughout the period. So diligently in fact that Professor Randall even asked her if she was feeling alright. In truth she was most definitely not feeling alright but focusing on muggle kitchen appliances was at least helping distract her from the whispers and glances. Tony Hellman (an averagely attractive 7), however, was not helping her case.

She had already lost count of how many times she had been forced to smack his hand away from her pencil case or prise her purple quill from his clutches. He just liked to wind her up and - although she hated to admit it – he was succeeding. After a good few minutes without interruption, Yvonne allowed herself to believe that perhaps Tony had realised what a toddler he was being. That was until her tapped her on the shoulder.

“Yvonne,” he whispered, a stupid grin spreading across his face.

“What?” she hissed back, wary of Professor Randall’s gaze. In truth, she probably knew more about Muggles than he did but it was still embarrassing to have a teacher catch you talking. Tony gestured to his forearm and leaned in.

“Guess what I’ve got up my sleeve,” he said cryptically and Yvonne rolled her eyes, not really too excited about playing a guessing game with her underdeveloped Muggle Studies partner.

“I don’t know, Tony. What?” she sighed, trying to make her exasperation apparent. He grinned at her again and pointed at her pencil case. After a quick check she realised that ruler was missing.

“Give it back,” she commanded and Tony let out a hiss like laugh. She gave him her best I-am-not-in-the-mood-for-this look and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded and began to fiddle with the button on his cuff. She watched him in astonishment as he failed time and time again to undo the button. He turned to her and smiled weakly.

“Could you do it for me?” he asked shyly and being the lovely, kind and considerate person that she was Yvonne obliged. Twisting in her seat she took his wrist in her hand and began to undo the button.

“Miss Brockley.”

She froze. Trust Professor Randall to look in her direction now. She looked up at him and smiled weakly.

“You and Mr Hellman can undress each other in your own time. Right now, it would be worthwhile for you to listen and learn,” Randall said, smirking triumphantly. With a muttered apology and a blush threatening to blot out all her facial features, Yvonne turned her attentions back to her book.


On her way to her next class, Yvonne was stopped by her head of house, Professor Longbottom. He pulled her aside from the throng of pupils to an alcove which, she realised, was an area often occupied by snogging couples. He had come, it seemed, to inform her of a possible interview.

“Now, Tamara Snider from the Daily Prophet – I presume you’ve heard of her. She’s a gossip columnist I believe. Anyway, Ms Snider has something of an unhealthy obsession with the Potter’s and after your heroic feats earlier in the week she would be interested in interviewing you,” Professor Longbottom explained, his face set in an uncharacteristically cold expression, and Yvonne’s eyes widened in shock.

“Tamara Snider wants to interview me?” she asked in disbelief and her professor nodded vigorously. He continued to speak but a movement over his shoulder caught Yvonne’s eye. It was Pippa Nicholls – a fourth year Ravenclaw – and she was wildly waving her hair band, or rather Yvonne’s hair band. Pippa mouthed an over dramatic thank you before rushing away. Apparently loaning her it had changed her life. Well, every little helps. Yvonne tuned back into Longbottom’s speech just in time to catch the end.

“Now, I will give you some time to mull over the pros and cons so don’t feel you have to make a decision just yet. I will however let you know that Albus has chosen not to be interviewed. For reasons I presume you can understand.”

“Of course, sir,” Yvonne replied, smiling. “I’ll get back to you by the end of the day.” She added before quickly rushing off to her next class.


She slipped into her seat between Libby and Nora and pulled out her things. They asked her what had taken her so long – Muggle Studies was just down the corridor from Charms and Yvonne nearly always beat her friends to class.

“Professor Longbottom needed to talk to me about something,” she explained succinctly searching in her bag for her blue peacock feather quill. Nora harrumphed loudly and crossed her arms.

“Which was...?” she pressed irritably and Yvonne sighed.

“Tamara Snider wants to interview me,” she said quietly and Nora gasped before clapping her hands together excitedly. Yvonne smiled in spite of herself and Libby laughed.

“You’ve said yes haven’t you? Please say you’re not going to ruin my chances of being famous,” Nora begged dramatically clutching at Yvonne’s hands.

“Well, I haven’t actually decided what I’m going to do yet,” she admitted but before Nora could protest Libby cut in.

“Think about it seriously. This woman is famous for twisting what people say. Not that I don’t think you can handle it – you could easily hex her into oblivion – but just don’t go in there with nothing prepared,” she said sagely pulling a face when a ball of parchment hit her on the back of the head. Muttering obscenities under her breath she whipped around to find the culprit. It was, unsurprisingly, Johnny and Thomas again and through wild hand gestures they explained that it was for Yvonne. Libby sighed and lazily passed her the parchment.

“Any money it says ‘Nice tits’,” she teased and Yvonne pulled a face, wishing that the boys in her year weren’t so immature. She opened the note and was annoyed but not shocked to find Hogwarts’ new catchphrase scrawled across it. Libby whooped and clapped her hands as she won her own little bet.

“Tank!” she shouted with glee, apologising quickly to Dotty Davies. Libby for all her wit and beauty was incredibly unattractive when it came to competitive activities. Even more so when she lost.

Yvonne scrunched the note up and she returned to the conversation about the Snider interview. After much deliberation, and very little Charms, it was decided that she would do the interview but be very very careful about what she said. She wanted to get her own version of events out there, after all. That was surely better than all these bizarre rumours. It did occur to her that Albus wasn’t doing the interview because Tamara would twist his words but that idea was soon replaced by the reasoning that he probably just didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an actual interview with a member of the Potter-Weasleys, which was understandable.

After a hectic day of lessons, congratulations, jealous eyes and dodging a certain Mr Potter, Yvonne was somewhat relieved to have rounds with Rory that evening. Most prefects hated rounds but she actually found them quite enjoyable when she was with Rory. Due to a certain Rose Weasley she had had rounds with Scorpius Malfoy all last year. It wasn’t that she minded his company (he was witty and that hair and that jaw line made him an oh-so-lovely 9½) but she had missed out on some serious Rory time. Well after that awkward dating phase anyway. She greeted him at the foot of the stairs and they began their patrol.

“So,” he began with a cheeky smile. “Nice tits, Brockley.” She groaned dramatically, pushing him away from her. He held up his hands in defeat, laughing at his own wit. “I was only joking!”

“Well, it’s not funny. It’s bad enough with Johnny and Thomas shouting it at me whenever they see me, but now you too!”She whined good-naturedly he laughed at her again and shrugged.

“I heard about your interview. You going to do it?” he asked as they rounded the corner and she sighed thoughtfully.

“Probably. I mean how bad can it be?” she added hopefully and Rory failed to conceal his snort. She narrowed her eyes at him and he apologised.

“At worst, she’ll probably end up writing your and Potter’s wedding announcement,” he teased. Yvonne rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm. After more talk of Albus and the rumours of their budding romance that had been circulating, the conversation turned to Rory’s love life.

“So, what’s been going on with you recently? Any love interests I should know about? A little birdie told me you had a bit of a thing for Sarah Hogg.”

Rory did his choking, spluttering thing in response and Yvonne giggled. “Sarah Hogg?! I’m not the kind of person who rates people on their looks”-cue pointed look towards Yvonne- “But if I was she’d definitely be a four!”

Yvonne squealed in indignation, slapping her friend on the arm. “That’s awful! She’s not that hideous surely!” Rory shrugged pulling an exasperated face. He threw his hands in the air in irritation.

“Why do girls always think other girls are prettier than they actually are? It’s ridiculous!” he laughed staring at her incredulously. She smiled.

“It’s also nice.” Rory shook his head at her and they walked on in comfortable silence until: “So if you were to rate me out of ten? You know, hypothetically,” Yvonne asked in a slow sing-song voice. He pulled a disgusted face at her and, in a high-pitched whine, replied,

“Ew! I can’t do that! That would be like rating my sister!” Suddenly, his face dead panned and Yvonne laughed at his mockery of Libby’s words.

“Well, what would you give this mystery girl out of ten, then?” she asked sweetly swinging around so that she was walking backwards, in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

“There is no mystery girl!” he insisted but Yvonne caught the delay, she caught the sideward’s glance, she caught his lie.

“There is! Oh my god, Rory! Who is she?” He shook his head shyly, looking towards the ground. After continuing to pester him, all Yvonne managed to get out was.

“I’m not telling you!”



“Pretty please?”


“Pretty please with a chocolate frog on-”

“What are you two doing?”

Yvonne froze. Euk. Now here was a girl who was a definite four. Rose Weasley. Rory’s face had darkened too – bad break ups would do that to you. He responded curtly to Rose’s question and she raised her eyebrows at them.

“You are meant to looking for students out of bed,” she said sternly and Yvonne rolled her eyes. She prided herself on her ability to be polite, sweet and absolutely lovely to all she met. All save Rose Weasley.

“There aren’t any students out of bed so if you would kindly be on your way,” she replied snarkily and Rose’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just making sure that you are both taking your duties seriously,” she snapped back and Rory cut in.

“You’re not Head Girl yet, Rose, ok? It’s not your job to make sure we’re taking our duties seriously.”

Clearly catching on to the fact that she wasn’t wanted, Rose left and Yvonne turned her attentions back to her new mission: finding out just who Rory’s mystery girl was.


The following day, Professor Longbottom took Yvonne out of her Herbology lesson for her interview with Tamara Snider. She wasn’t too sure what to expect when she was shown into the disused classroom on the fourth floor but she was not prepared for what she found.

Tamara had set herself up at the old teacher’s desk: there was a tall glass of ice tea and a jug, pink fluffy personalised stationary and a pygmy puff in a small silver bird cage.

Conclusion: Tamara Snider is a lunatic.

“Darling! You’re here,” Tamara cried standing up and leaping towards her interviewee, pink robes billowing out behind her. After air kisses which felt more like being punched by two protruding cheek bones and being blinded by a camera flash, Yvonne was allowed to take a seat and offered an ice tea, which she declined. She was suddenly beginning to regret her decision.

“So, my dear. You are Yvonne Louise Brockley, am I right? Good. Now, you and your rather eye-catching brassiere have been splashed across our papers all week and, of course, you are the girl to whom we owe Albus Potter’s life! Tell me, sweetheart, just what was going through your head?”

Yvonne sighed, thinking carefully before responding. “I’m not really sure. It was just instinctive I suppose.”

“A primal need deep within to protect the ones you love, eh?” Tamara said with a sly smile. Yvonne blinked. She was not expecting that. She stumbled over her words as she replied.

“Well, Tha- that wasn’t what it was at all really. I’m a trained life guard. That’s what we do – save people who are drowning.”

Nice save, Brockley.

Tamara did a funny smile that actually seemed to be causing her serious pain. She nodded, looking quickly at her notebook before fixing Yvonne with an unwavering stare.

“Of course. Of course. Now, you are a muggle born aren’t you? So how does it feel to be welcomed into such a prestigious wizarding family with such a pure bloodline?”

Yvonne frowned. “Albus’s grandmother was a Muggle born. Their blood line isn’t that pure I don’t think. Besides-”

“So, you know a lot about his family then? You must have done quite a bit of digging to find out about his family history,” Tamara said with another sly smirk.

Conclusion: Tamara Snider is an idiot.

“It’s actually first year History of Magic. Anyone in the school could tell you that,” Yvonne replied, her voice calm and polite while inside she was doing a little victory dance. Tamara continued to smile unphased and changed the topic.

“Anyway, as I was saying before I got sidetracked, you are a muggle. Tell me, darling, do you partake in any humorous Muggle activities that might tickle our readers? Skydiving perhaps? Or rock climbing?” she added with a light chuckle.

Conclusion: Tamara Snider is a racist.

“I don’t really think any of my hobbies are funny. I like swimming and surfing and I play a bit of football in the summer. But I like reading and shopping and things like that,” Yvonne replied noting that she did have an awfully boring life. Until now of course.

After a few more dead end questions regarding her family and pastimes the conversation turned to what Tamara was really interested in: Albus.

“So, my dear, what do you really think of Albus Severus Potter?” she asked, leaning across her personalised paper to fix Yvonne with a steady gaze. Yvonne shrugged.

“He’s a really nice guy. I don’t talk to him much but I don’t think anyone has a bad word to say about him,” she replied diplomatically. This was not the response Tamara was after.

“And has this incident brought you closer?”

“Well, we talk more now I suppose. He has this silly idea in his head about paying me back so-”

“Paying you back?” Tamara gasped, cutting in. “How does he propose to this, may I ask?”


“A romantic dinner for two at Madame Pudifoot’s?”

“No. I-”

“A passionate encounter in a broom cupboard?”

“Definitely n-”

“Definitely? My, my Miss Brockley you are far less innocent than you appear! Why! I would never have thought that a girl as polite as you would have allowed herself to be reimbursed in such a way!”

“No. That’s not what I-”

“Now, I have heard talk of a possible relationship between Mr Potter and yourself but, of course, dismissed it as juvenile gossip. But this! This is a revelation. Just how long have you and Mr Potter been keeping up this charade of mere acquaintances? A week? Two? A month even? Or perhaps longer?”

Yvonne clenched her fists by her sides. This was all going horribly wrong. “No! Albus and I are-”

“Sorry, to end this so abruptly, my darling. But I really must dash. It has been lovely meeting you! Ta-ra!”

And with that she swept from the room, her stationary, iced tea and pygmy puff following her out. Yvonne groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Conclusion: Tamara Snider is very good at getting what she wants.


Just in case you aren’t clued in with Glaswegian lingo, ‘tank’ means to be good at something. As in ‘He’s really good at maths.” “I know. He’s such a tank.” It essentially comes from the idea of tanks knocking down everything in their path. Slang lesson of the day. There will probably be more of these to come.

Also, that thing with the ruler up the sleeve and the ‘you two can undress each other later’ is a true story. I kid you not.

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please tell me what you thought I feel like the reviews have been lacking lately. Oh and another also check out my new Lily/OC one-shot skeleton!

Much love,

Emily x


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