Chapter 5 : five.
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 4|
Background: Font color:
The air is filled with the post mini concert buzz, excited chatter rising from all groups. Harriet stands, a little awkwardly, on the fringes of a group that contains the happy bride. As I get closer all I hear is them marvelling over the fact that dear Emily managed to get Law to play at her own wedding.
“Well we are such good friends, me and Freddie…” she pauses to glance over the group. “Well, we all know the Hogwarts rumours,” and Harriet winces, her face screwing up as it always does when anyone dares to mention school times.
“Harriet,” she breaks away from the group with murmured apologies, looking almost grateful to have a distraction. I don’t even think they notice her absence, barely deign her with a parting glance over their shoulder. My stomach curls in anger, but I just grin at my friend and curl one arm through hers.
“You ready to go?” she asks me, the spark I’m used to slowly returning to her eyes as he walked slowly away from the group of girls. “Weren’t Law just amazing? That’s twice in two days! I must be the luckiest witch alive…” I roll my eyes as she descends into the same fan girl state as previously experienced. I cast a cursory glance around the reception for Eoin, catch sight of him standing over some girl who was giggling and playing with a lock of her blonde hair.
“Is there another portkey or something?” I asked Harriet, who stopped her rambling about Freddie Weasley’s arse (personally his face seemed more of an asset but who was I to say?) to blink owlishly at me.
“Urr,” she stalled, looking around as though for inspiration. “Don’t think so. Hey, I’m sober enough, we could just do side-along?”
Responsibly, I shouldn’t. I knew that, knew I should say no and find someone who could help us in our predicament. We could have flagged down the Knight Bus. But the idea of sitting upon the rackety old thing after the drinks I’d had wasn’t a pleasant one.
“Sure thing honey bee,” I let Harriet lead the way to the same garden we’d been in earlier (something about anti-apparition in the reception, how posh). We passed a group of squealing girls, some of them actually leaping and trying to launch themselves towards the centre of the huddle. Peering through, I could just about make out all the band members of Law. They were soaking up the attention, Freddie most of all, stopping for pictures and kissing girls on cheeks.
Harriet looked over with interest, but stopped at the look on my face, and we carried on our merry way to the garden, the scent of flowers high in the air.
“Where’s my wand… wand,” I held my shoes in one hand as Harriet dug around in her clutch bag, a frown on her face. My toes curled into the cool grass, my head tipping back to look at the stars. My heels ached, but I tried to put it from my mind. Soon I’d be able to curl up in bed, have a nice cup of tea-
“Evangeline!” Harriet didn’t hear the voice, her triumphant cry of “a-ha!” masking the sound of my name as she located her wand and pulled it from the depths of the bag.
She grasped my arm, just as Freddie Weasley strode across the lawn, tie gone and lipstick smeared upon the collar of his shirt; “Evangeline!” His eyes were fixated upon me, smirk giving way to a frown as he realised what was about to occur and he broke into a run – “Evangeline!”
It was close enough for Harriet’s eyes to fly open in surprise (she hated apparition with them open) and for Freddie Weasley to lay one hand upon my forearm, and then with a crack, we were gone.
The landing is just as ungraceful as the landing from the portkey, both of us sprawled upon the floor of my flat. Apart from Sybil dive bombs onto my head, mewing happily, needle like claws tangling with my hair and pulling at the strands.
“Nice knickers,” I smirk as Harriet pulls her dress down, pulling herself off the ground and shooting me a narrow eyed look. I remain on the floor, pushing myself into a sitting position and running my fingers along the wooden panels, grinning as Sybil launches an attack, batting them with his tiny paws.
“Oh my Merlin,” the hyperventilating starts, Harriet staring down at me with wide eyes. “Was that Freddie Weasley running after you, shouting your name? Oh my gosh,” she stares at me, apparently unable to formulate the words, her mouth opening and closing rapidly.
Sybil’s mewing suddenly becomes more muffled, and he prances towards me with his head high in the air, something locked between his jaws. He drops it onto my knee and I go to tickle him behind the ears before realising what the object is, and then leap to my feet, shrieking loudly.
“WHAT THE FUCK! OH SHIT, HARRIET!”
Harriet’s normally the shrieker and looks panicked as I prance about the flat, hysterically pointing at the object on the floor.
“What! What is it?! Evie!” Harriet, not knowing what the issue is, begins following me in the weird leap thing that I’m doing to avoid Sybil who’s mightily offended I’m not more grateful of his gift and avoid the thing on the floor.
Finally I stop and manage to pull myself together, peering closer to confirm my suspicions.
“Harriet,” I say somberly. “I do believe that’s a finger.” The realisation comes to me suddenly and I’m unsure whether to laugh or vomit. “We’ve only fucking splinched Freddie freaking Weasley.”
Harriet giggles, then heads towards the kitchen. “Good one, Eve. You actually had me then.”
The finger sits innocently upon the rug, a small bit of blood leaking from the severed end. His whole finger, knuckle and nail and all. I peer closer, can see a sliver of bone. Oh Merlin. “I’m serious, Harriet. His sodding finger is in my living room.”
Slowly Harriet turns, making her way back. She peers closer, then her hand rushes to cover her mouth as though worried she may vomit all over it. Which would be just grand. Not only do we splinch him, we then vomit all over it.
“Eeee aaaaah nfff naaaaahls,” her words are muffled from behind her hand. I switch from looking at the finger in disgust and horror to look at my dear friend, Harriet the genius.
She removes her hand from over her mouth. “He has nice nails.”
It still takes a moment for me to process the words, and I blink rapidly in confusion. “So we have Freddie Weasley’s finger sitting in the middle of my living room and all you can do his admire his nail? The issue at hand is the fact that it’s not attached to him!”
Harriet smirks slightly, “the issue at hand is kind of an ironic turn of phrase, isn’t it?”
I send her a panicked look and she returns her gaze to the finger, before looking back at me. “Well. Suppose we’d better do something to reattach it.”
And there was I thinking she was going to try and keep it as a souvenir. Thankfully the world still contains an ounce of logical thinking.
“And how the fuck are we going to do that?”
AN: Mwaha! A finger! I apologise for the short length of this chapter but merging it with the next gave birth to some super chapter that frightened me a little bit.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
The Girl You...
Beneath the Mask