♥ elyaeru wrote "amor inter nos est" for incipient_love 1/3 ♥
Title: amor inter nos est 1/3
Rating: PG-13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Language; quite AU-ish, events in books can be discarded or included as wished. There is a reference to a slightly significant event in Deathly Hallows, although it is very minor. Major characterisation blooms with some of the minors in canon, so a warning for that, too. ;)
Summary: An ensemble cast presents amor inter nos est: a production all about love. Astoria and Daphne share an odd sort of sibling relationship; Harry needs to find himself; Tracey Davis needs to start drinking more cappuccino; Ginny is hidden well underneath at least ten layers at a time and, well, Draco? Draco needs to take a lesson in subtlety.
Author's Notes: In my world, fashion stretches out across the Muggle world; beware of all the references! How many can you count? Also, many thanks to Oph, who helped with a few nuances I was having; Zunny, who was prompt and extremely helpful, and finally to Amber, whose traits I borrowed for a few of the characters -- oh, and her mad proofreading skills -- in this fic. To the prompter: I had quite a bit of fun incorporating Love Actually themes in the fic! And to everyone else: I hope you enjoy.
amor inter nos est 1/3
March
Thus we begin the story, located in the town centre.
Her eyes were closed, and her nose was scrunched up, breathing in the foul and humid smell of the hotdog stand nearby her. The van was parked only a couple of yards away, but the stench was wafting itself to her. She was completely and utterly disgusted, and if Astoria wouldn’t hurry up out of the shop in five minutes, then she would not be responsible for her actions. Every so often, she would hear people yelling things, attempting to sell pointless and absolutely useless items for the grand price of five Galleons, and, well, five Galleons was a lot for the rubbish they were selling-she was tempted to tell the gullible lot who were looking at the items on “demo” that the items were crap. Crap, she’d tell them, five Galleons for a silly old toy? Get a pedicure, instead.
Daphne Greengrass opened her eyes and clutched her handbag tightly towards her with her forearm as she glanced back at the shop window where her younger sister was browsing the racks of clothing. She had refused to go in, after an incident with one of the sales assistant who was currently on duty. Daphne glanced downwards, hands in pocket, taking in the red cobbled pavement she was stood on. There was a circular arrangement of seats not to far away, but there were also dirty grey pigeons (‘Sky rats!’ her mother always complained) and people who were already sat there muttering to themselves, with cheap Muggle cigarettes in their hands. She snuggled in deeper into her beige trench coat, making sure she stepped in as a small child walked past behind her, one foot in front of the other, on the pavement ledge.
‘Follow the yellow brick road,’ they sang jovially, their voice becoming distant as they walked on, and the shrouding salespeople would shout even louder than previously before.
It’s not yellow, Daphne thought irritably, it’s red, you fool.
She turned around, fully intent on going into the shop, grabbing her sister and dragging her away, no longer caring about the silly shop assistant who was obviously not very smart enough anyway to be telling Daphne that she didn’t look very good in her beige trench coat, when she ended up smashing into her. Astoria, that is. Her younger sister raised her eyebrow, already confident, outspoken and an outright nuisance. Daphne glared at her, catching her breath and quickly linking her arm with her sister’s, promptly shoving into her, with hurried movements to get her hands back into her pockets where it was warm. They began walking down the cobbled street, narrowly avoiding touching anyone else’s shoulder, or step on chewing gum that had been carelessly spat on to the ground. Daphne absolutely detested this place.
‘What on earth is up with you?’ Astoria asked her, after a while. Her newly waxed eyebrow was very offending at the moment and Daphne leaned into her sister, clinging onto the other one person-after Daphne herself-who did not belong here. The fact that Astoria was being a pain in the arse was ignored at that moment, when an old beggar man with a scraggly beard walked past them, muttering incoherent words, his arms wide apart, apparently not caring if he touched strangers. ‘Ew,’ Astoria said under her breath.
‘I loathe this area,’ Daphne replied. ‘I don’t understand why we can’t go to nice places. I smell ridiculously of hotdogs,’ she added as an afterthought.
Astoria tilted her head down and sniffed her sister’s neck. ‘Hmm, I still smell Fabuleuse.’ She lifted her head back up, looking straight ahead, with a smirk on her face. ‘Cheap rubbish.’
‘It was a gift from him,’ Daphne curtly retorted. ‘I don’t see you wearing any of your gifted perfume.’ Slag, she thought, finishing the sentence in her head.
‘That’s because, darling,’ Astoria said, ‘I buy my own perfume.’
‘The money, however, comes from one of your many boyfriends.’
‘I resent that.’
‘Course you do,’ Daphne said, smiling. ‘You need to stop serial dating, sis.’ She then pointed towards a small café with a red border that was now in their view. They had crossed the boundary; they were now in a small area, right in between the intersection of all the tacky places, that was adorned with grey stone and decorated with elaborate flowers. There was a fountain in the middle, a large statue of Neptune, that was littered with Sickles and Knuts. The sun’s rays had caught this secret in the middle of the maze, previously leaving the passageways and main areas of the precinct dark and grey. Of course, there were actually no clouds covering this area, but Daphne much preferred her thought of it. ‘There. He said he’d meet us there.’
‘There? Isn’t it a bit too girly for Draco?’ Astoria said in a sweet voice. She tugged on her sister’s arm, pulling her a little too forcedly. Daphne groaned at her Astoria’s harshness, but let her drag her along into the café. She was curious-very curious-as to what Draco wanted to tell them. It was vague, of course, as everything that came out of his mouth was, but he had said his name! Daphne’s eyes lit up at the very mention of his name, until Astoria pulled her into the depths of the café. It was like she had entered a sepia photograph, the walls were adorned in a coffee brown, money trees were dotted around the counter, and Daphne glimpsed, she was quite certain, Tracey Davis in the corner slowly sipping her drink, looking heavily interested in whoever was currently blocked out by the Mother-in-law’s Tongue.
‘Fool,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘She was always one to go back crawling.’
‘Draco!’ Astoria greeted in her high-pitched squeal. Removing Daphne’s arm, she stood up on her tiptoes, Draco standing up to address them both, and flung her arms around his neck. ‘It’s so good of you to see us,’ she said after a longer-than-necessary hug. Daphne rolled her eyes.
‘Well, I need to tell you two something,’ Draco said.
‘Yes?’ Astoria asked eagerly, cutting Daphne short of her intended answer.
Astoria twitched her body and Daphne shook her head at her sister’s behaviour. She was so bloody obvious it was a shock to Daphne that Draco hadn’t even reacted to her sister’s outlandish attitude. Again, it seemed Astoria had forgotten she was currently seeing someone else. Draco was usually quick to notice these things, but his ego had took to a settling-down recently, and he seemed not to care, lest say anything about it. Daphne pursed her lips.
‘Blaise and Pansy,’ he began, looking at Daphne, maintaining direct eye contact with her, ‘are thinking about a winter wedding.’ He paused. ‘This year,’ he added quickly, looking down at the table.
‘A winter wedding?’ both the sisters asked simultaneously. Daphne’s face was contorted in a look of shock, horror and disappointment. Astoria’s was outlined in shock, horror and disgust.
‘They can’t!’ cried Daphne, throwing up her hands in the air. Draco merely nodded his head at her reaction.
‘But it shall be cold,’ Astoria complained. ‘It’s not as if they’d get any snow, either, I mean, with this weather? All it’d be is this-’ she gestured outside, ‘-times about ten, plus frosty and chilly, and,’ she said, making a face, ‘it only gives them eight months to sort out Pansy Parkinson’s dream wedding.’
‘Astoria,’ Daphne whispered, interrupting Astoria’s ramblings, ‘you need to go to the loo.’
Her sister paused mid-sentence, and looked at her oddly. Daphne’s head was bent down, she was fidgeting with her hands, and Draco looked most sincere at her. Astoria gave a large sigh, got up and softly patted her sister’s head as she excused herself. Daphne emitted a small noise and Draco reached over to lift her chin up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he genuinely was. He wanted to be the first to let Daphne know, before Blaise and Pansy told her, because he knew that Daphne would be hit headfirst; her stomach would knot itself several times; she would choke on her words, and her face would feel like it was sixty degrees. Draco had known this for a long time. She let out a little splutter, coughed; her cheeks reddened, patchy spots of pink swelling.
Daphne sniffled. ‘I know I shouldn’t really be thinking like this, but I-I just didn’t think Pansy w-would do something like t-this.’ Tears were welling up. ‘I mean,’ she stammered, ‘I knew they were serious but I never thought they’d become this,’ she blew her nose, ‘serious. I-It’s so unfair, Draco, why them, and not me? I-I don’t get it.’
‘It’s always been Pansy and Blaise, Daph,’ Draco said softly. ‘You knew that, I knew that. Christ, even Crabbe and Goyle probably knew that.’
‘Yes, b-but it was always y-you and P-Pansy at school,’ she cried. ‘Besides,’ she sniffled once more, ‘Crabbe is dead. Goyle is in Azkaban. I hardly,’ her tone was pompous, ‘think they’re capable of forming a coherent opinion that I’d care about.’
Draco laughed. Ever since he had known her, Daphne Greengrass had been a fully-fledged snob. In fact, if it was not for her father’s insistence, Daphne wouldn’t have attended Hogwarts. Her mother was of the opinion that people like Daphne, wouldn’t do well to mingle with those who could also get into Hogwarts-she wanted Daphne to attend a school where money was the connection. After spending the first year at Hogwarts, Daphne’s snobbish attitude had toned down dramatically, but she was still prone to making the odd comment about her social differences. He chuckled lightly at her. ‘Well, Daphne, I just thought you might want to know ahead of time,’ he said. ‘Before the invitations go out.’
‘But like Astoria said,’ she wiped away some of her tears, ‘they only have eight months to plan Pansy’s dream wedding, and Pansy’s dream wedding takes more than eight months to plan.’
He sighed, not wanting to necessarily say the words, but she prompted him with her glistening eyes, and although he hated to be insensitive, she had to know. Until she accepted it, there would be no chance for her in the outside world. Daphne was too wrapped up in her own world-in a world where everything to her was perfect, except, of course, her love life. Draco understood her view on that aspect of her life was that “he” (an interchangeable variable, but since Hogwarts, it had been stuck at “Blaise”), with the click of a finger, would realise that one day he belonged to Daphne, and she to him. No added complications, just a simple declaration of love and Daphne would be taken. Draco wished that Astoria was here, she’d know what to say. Or she’d say it bluntly enough for Daphne to comprehend. ‘They love each other,’ he simply replied. ‘Pansy’s dream wedding will be when she marries Blaise.’
No, she didn’t understand much. Still sniffling, she snorted as a waft of Fabuleuse flew up her nose. Ironic, she thought. Daphne laughed at herself, he had bought her that perfume when she had come out of a bad relationship. It was just a nice gesture, everyone said, they all knew about Daphne’s obsession with perfume. Blaise was just being nice, and she was wasting her love on him.
* * *
The female lavatory of said café. It’s a very popular café. The toilets aren’t very nice though.
Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis decided, was a big, horrible, mean, vain, conceited, patronising, moronic bastard. Tracey growled at herself-she could no longer be bothered by him, not at all. Of course, their relationship had lasted six years. Six years! Unfortunately, it turned out that three of those six had been shared with a dirty, little Durmstrang whore. Tracey washed her hands furiously under the sink, turning them red and raw with her vigorous scrubs. As Astoria Greengrass stepped in to the toilets, she almost rolled her eyes at the scene, but instead, she walked over to the crying girl and placed an arm around her. Throwing her arm around Astoria, Tracey wept into the younger girl’s shoulder, not caring at all that she actually hated Astoria.
‘I hate him,’ she muffled into her shoulder. ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.’
Astoria carefully moved themselves so she could turn the tap off, and then began to stroke Tracey’s hair. Finding herself entrapped in the arms of a weeping idiot was not what she had intended to do when she had gone to the toilets. It was bloody coincidence, she had thought, that Daphne send her out when Tracey had come in. God, did everyone put their lives on hold for men? However, unpredictably, she found herself liking the comfort she gave. It was a nice sort of feeling. It made her feel smug and clever. Softening to Tracey’s embrace, Astoria hugged the girl tightly and then let her go, holding her by her shoulders.
‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Which idiot’s gone and done this to you now?’ Astoria, however, knew full well which idiot had gone and done this to her. It had only been owled to her several times: the unimaginable break-up between Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott, and the make-up, and then the break-up again-her friends were such gossips. Apparently, he had been cheating on Tracey with an Eastern European, and personally, Astoria thought it was quite amusing. She nodded her head to Tracey, her eyes urging her to answer.
Tracey shivered and then let out, ‘Theo!’
‘Ah yes, he is a bastard,’ Astoria responded dryly, pursing her lips. ‘And I mean that literally, too.’ She had taken it in great delight to continually taunt Theodore about being an “accident”. Such “incidents” were so rare for his cohort, that Astoria found it highly humorous to see how he’d react to every time she would make a passing comment. Of course, Mr and Mrs Nott married soon afterwards, believing they’d be able to cover it up, but the Greengrass’s were quite observant. Daphne would scold her in public, because Theo was her friend, and she would always tell Astoria to pick on someone her own size. Astoria had obviously inherited some of her mother’s horrible genes, and played ignorant whenever she felt a lecture was incoming from Daphne. She found anything connected to Theo outrageously funny, and continually made him feel uncomfortable, just because she could. She stifled back a giggle at the memories. First priority was the girl in front of her: she had to be cheered up.
The other girl only raised an eyebrow, looking at her oddly, and Astoria quickly got back into motherly action. ‘I mean what did he do?’
‘He asked me to meet him,’ she said, still crying. ‘And then he-then he …’
‘He?’ Astoria raised her voice a little.
‘He told me to stop contacting him!’
Oh dear, Astoria thought. ‘Have you, ah, been contacting him?’ Astoria didn’t find a problem in Theodore’s request at all, in fact, she had been in that position herself-quite a few times now-and none of the males had gone off to the loo to cry themselves silly! Ah, but of course, women are supposedly more prone to be emotionally-driven, aren’t they? Astoria sighed, she hadn’t felt like that for a long time. Bless Tracey. Bless Theo. Bless Daphne. Bless all the poor sods of the world.
‘I’ve just been sending him a couple of owls a day, you know,’ Tracey said, still sniffling, Astoria handed her a tissue, and she took it gratefully. ‘And sometimes when I need to talk, I’ll just Floo him, but he’ll shout at me! Like I’ve done something wrong …’
Hmm, obsessing: check.
‘Then he accused me of stalking him outside of his house. Well, I wasn’t stalking him, I just wanted to come over and talk with him.’
Stalking: check.
‘Then he said “fine” and left it at that, and I thought he meant we were fine, so I arranged dinner with his parents.’ Tears began to leak again. ‘And-and he said I was a nutter! And then a few days later, like today, he asked me to-to meet him here,’ she whined out, ‘and I did come, but then he told me to stop trying to contact him.’ Astoria handed her another tissue. The one Tracey was holding was already soaked. The Greengrass made a sound of pity and sympathy. Astoria was finding it hard to emphasise; she didn’t know what else to do, so she continued to hand out the tissues as Tracey continued to tell her sad tale. By the end of it, they were now both sat down on the toilet floor (although both were sat on toilet paper mats) and Astoria had her head back, leaning against the wall, and laughing softly at Tracey.
‘Davis, you’re so ridiculous,’ she said to her.
‘Oh, be quiet, Astoria,’ she said, wiping her eyes. It seemed that now Tracey had finally calmed herself down, she knew exactly who she was speaking to, and who she was speaking to was the bane of her school life for the five years she was there. She hadn’t quite expected Astoria to be the listening type of person; the response she had received after telling Astoria her life story didn’t seem very fair and equal at all. She glanced at the other girl again who was currently moving her foot side to side. At that moment, a little girl came through and promptly left after seeing the two women on the floor. Tracey scowled. I’m not that scary, she thought to herself.
‘You need to get over him,’ Astoria responded, ignoring her. ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea, is what I say.’ She lifted her arm up and began to stroke Tracey’s wet hair, matting it out against her head again and smirked at Tracey’s obvious indifference regarding the situation. Astoria could remember when Daphne had laughed herself silly the time Tracey had been voted for the “most sensitive” in the house members awards at Slytherin. Daphne had bagged “most flirtatious”-only to be taken out by her own sister, Astoria, a few years later-and had carelessly used this material for dormitory talk. Tracey hadn’t been very impressed, to say the least.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ Tracey asked indignantly.
‘I do, actually,’ Astoria muttered. She didn’t really like her current boyfriend, he was a silly man with silly ideals but he put the jewels in her hands and was polite. Astoria would have broken it off in the early stages, if it weren’t for the fact that her potential boyfriend was currently courting someone else. Such was life, but such was a nice, luxurious life where she only had to say “please” and bag in the cash. There were several others who she was currently seeing as acquaintances who she could easily pass as her boyfriend, but none quite matched up to the title yet.
‘Well,’ Tracey said, not sure what to say, she felt it wasn’t her time yet to pry. ‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Speed dating,’ Astoria replied immediately. Her face lit-up in anticipation. ‘I’ve never been speed dating before, wanna try it?’
‘Eh,’ Tracey picked herself up from the floor, ‘no. As much as I’d like to thank you for listening,’ Astoria got up, too and bowed, smoothing down her skirt, ‘I don’t think I’m ready for speed dating. Or any kind of dating.’
Astoria rolled her eyes. ‘That’s what they all say.’ Tracey turned her back on Astoria and headed straight towards the mirrors, back to the sinks and examined her puffy facial features. Muttering incomprehensible words of the profanity variety as she hastily wiped away any signs of crying from her face. Astoria flicked her long black hair behind her as she whispered a few words in Tracey’s direction; her face began to recompose itself, much to Tracey’s bewilderment, and Astoria smirked. ‘Eh, I’ve had lots of time to master wandless magic,’ she explained. Tracey nodded hesitantly at her in the mirror, and then turned around.
‘Get over him,’ Tracey repeated from earlier. ‘Get over him and find someone new?’ She looked at Astoria with eager eyes, and Astoria nodded with a small smile on her face. So Tracey was clingy and obsessed with men-surely the next one could tell her that. She’s been through too much today, Astoria reasoned. Tracey smiled weakly at the girl, and then looked at her watch. ‘Oh Merlin, I’m late, I’m late. Daddy wanted to have a meeting with me.’ She flung herself towards the exit, waving her hand at Astoria.
Astoria grinned at her. ‘Bye Trace,’ she called, but Tracey was already out of the door. Astoria checked her make-up in the mirror, smiling, and waited at least a minute before departing.
* * *
The Greengrasses gang up on Draco. Ah, good ol’ times.
Fresh tears dropped down Daphne’s face. Draco raised his head up in greeting, and Astoria reappeared by her side, and placed a comforting arm around her. The younger sister glanced at Draco, and then placed her forehead on Daphne’s. She could be a bitch, but she was her bitch, and sometimes, just sometimes, Astoria could be nice, so Daphne allowed the contact without saying a word. At that moment, Daphne was being awfully whiny, but she was her sister, so Astoria smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. Daphne had fallen head-over-heels in love with someone who was unfortunately unavailable. She hoped her sister would fall out of the depressing situation soon. Unrequited love was always horrible.
‘All you need is love,’ she sang gently to her sister.
‘… love,’ Draco carried on.
‘Love is all you need,’ Daphne finished reluctantly. Then she snorted, thus ruining the moment between the three and Astoria giggled. The oldest sister pointed sharply at Draco’s direction and rolled her eyes at him. She wiped away some of her tears, she would not be quietened like this, and she had things to do and people to see, better to rid of her sad mood now by distracting herself with gossip material. ‘You’re one to talk,’ she started snidely. ‘How are things with you and lovergirl?’
It was Draco’s turn to sigh, and he did so irritably, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘They’re fine, and she is not my lovergirl.’
‘Pfft,’ Astoria added, ‘you feed her every day.’
Daphne nodded, folding her arms, as if to say now we’ve sorted me out, it’s your turn. She peeked a look at her sister, and Astoria was still jabbering on to Draco, her reasons finely ironed out.
‘… and, disregarding this previous conversation, when you’re not talking to her, you’re talking about her.’
Daphne nodded her head enthusiastically in agreement. The drumming of Draco’s fingers began to die down softly. Astoria carried on, talking with her hands.
‘You’re always glancing through the window, looking at her, and then glancing back again to make sure she didn’t catch you looking-every time you walk past the shop …’
Draco looked down.
‘… and Daphne and I totally approve,’ Astoria finished.
Daphne stopped nodding her head, turned to her sister and raised her eyebrow instead. Firstly, she became interested in this sudden outburst-had Astoria hit her head in the toilets or something? She wasn’t supposed to be approving of the girl, she was supposed to be fighting for Draco! Secondly, she did not approve of lovergirl, at all. Daphne was just merely interested in Draco’s relationship with her. By the time Daphne zoned back into the conversation, Astoria was still babbling and Draco’s cheeks were now reddening, an amusing feature on his otherwise characteristically pale face.
‘… and I bet you’re at that stage when you’re doing all those lame, cheesy things like trying to think of synonyms for “brown” because you want to impress her with what colour her eyes are,’ Astoria scoffed.
‘Woah, no!’ Draco said, aghast. ‘No, I am not at that stage.’ He paused and then relaxed back into his chair, giving the two girls a curious look. ‘Do, err, men actually do that?’
Astoria rolled her eyes. ‘Yes they do, and it fails horribly.’ Draco gave her a questioning look. ‘If you gave me a Galleon for every time someone’s used that on me, then you’d be lookin’ at one very rich lady.’
Daphne resisted making a comment on Astoria’s current financial situation-she was receiving money from her parents, her boyfriends and had her own trust funds, and got back into action. ‘So what is the deal with you and lovergirl?’ Momentarily ignoring Draco’s fed-up expression.
‘She is not my lovergirl,’ Draco replied through gritted teeth. A lock of blond hair fell down and Astoria reached over to place it back behind his ear; she fell back into her seat. Daphne rolled her eyes and Draco looked at her awkwardly. ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ he said gravely. ‘It wasn’t supposed to do that,’ he bit out, more to himself than the girls.
The corner of Astoria’s upper lip raised in sarcasm. ‘Oh, please, you were trying that staring-us-down thing. You’d try to make us shut up, and that hair would annoy the hell out of both parties.’ She leaned back. ‘Besides, you do have rather pretty eyes, doesn’t he, Daphne?’ Astoria pointed to Draco and he shirked back whilst Astoria sniggered at him.
‘Well, whatever, what’s the deal? Fess up.’ Daphne eyed him curiously, tactfully ignoring Astoria who was currently laughing at her way to make the most awkward moments. Draco looked away.
‘C’mon, Daphne did spill her entire life story,’ Astoria added.
‘My like for Blaise?’ Daphne looked aghast. She turned to her sister, her face scrunched up in annoyance. Astoria rolled her eyes, twirling a strand of hair with her fingers, looking pointedly distracted.
‘Exactly.’
‘Oh, you little-’
Draco pulled out his hands, palms out in front to stop the two sisters. ‘Greengrasses, calm down.’
Daphne huffed, and slowly reclined back, relaxing into her chair. Astoria smiled slyly in her sister’s direction but relaxed into hers and then faced Draco again. ‘Right, Malfoy, details. Spill. Now.’
‘Nothing, Daphne, nothing is happening.’ Draco sighed. ‘Unfortunately,’ he added. He glanced sideways, seeing the waitress keep well away from their table. That was unfortunate; caffeine in his system would be superb. However, the waitress seemed to be well acquainted with Astoria Greengrass and her apparent lack of empathy, as well as her ability to make someone feel five inches tall in less than thirty seconds; something she had had the misfortune to experience.
Astoria opened her mouth in shock. ‘Unfortunately, eh?’ She had hit it: bingo! This was as good as Draco admitting he actually did like someone, and that was a very large step. For the past few years previous to knowing him, Astoria had believed him to be asexual. He had choked when she let this be known and he had never quite been the same with her.
He sighed, almost woefully, at Daphne’s observation. ‘Yes, unfortunately. I don’t think she wants a serious relationship at this moment in time.’
Hmm, Astoria thought, this is rather interesting.
‘You haven’t had sex with her yet then?’ Astoria asked casually.
Draco raised his eyebrow at her. ‘No, Astoria, we haven’t had sex yet.’
Daphne took a note of the attached “yet” and stifled a giggle. She placed a well-manicured hand in front of her mouth instead and looked outside to the window, distracted. Daphne could recall the last time Astoria was being pointedly annoying and inquisitive, it ended up with Daphne nearly cracking her ribs from laughing so hard at the silliness. Unfortunately, she doubted Draco would be as much fun as the others, he was much more serious than them and, unfavourably, refused to be intimidated as such.
‘Shame,’ she trilled. ‘God, the reason behind that is going to be some gentleman-y thingy, isn’t it?’
Draco sighed again miserably. ‘I think she just wants a purely,’ he emphasised, ‘platonic relationship right now.’ His fingers resumed their drumming as the girls tilted their heads in wonder and thought.
* * *
Dear Pansy,
Theodore Nott is now history.
Love,
Tracey
* * *
Introducing protagonist one, out of a possible ten.
Having the afternoon off, Ginny Weasley was sat on her couch, eating an oatmeal bar and reading a magazine. After various incidents with silly old women at the shop (“Are you sure my bottom doesn’t look big in this?”), she had the rest of the day planned to be as carefree as possible. She was due to be at the Quidditch grounds in an hour. It was a flying “range” if one could call it that. It merely consisted of her flying and practising her Quidditch skills. Despite the monthly tournaments of Weasley family Quidditch, she was sorely lacking in her skills, especially as Chaser. Harry, as an Auror, had been formally dismissed as Seeker and his position was given to her. Unfortunately this month, Harry was back after vacating his spot as the Head of the Auror department in order to “find himself”. The Ministry had bent over backwards to ensure this was possible. Hermione disapproved terribly of Harry’s “parsimonious” excuse. The Weasley siblings had all called bullshit, and he had simply agreed.
As she took the last bite of the bar, her fire burst into green flames and Luna’s voice carried itself across the room towards her. ‘Ginny,’ Luna conversed through the fireplace, ‘you’re needed.’
The redhead raised her head from Witch Weekly. She Vanished the bar’s empty wrapping paper and sighed. ‘Lu, I have a Quidditch drive booked in an hour.’
Luna playfully rolled her eyes, and Ginny shook her head with a smile. ‘It’s not going to take that long,’ Luna said. ‘A friend is desperately in need.’
Ginny sat up. ‘Kev?’
Luna nodded, and Ginny stood up, an inquiring look in her eyes. Luna shut off the Floo connection without a goodbye, and Ginny took it as a sign that they needed her right now. Accio’ing her burgundy-coloured coat, she Disapparated to Luna’s house. After focusing her vision and stabilising her entrance-posture, she saw Luna and Kevin Entwhistle sat on the sofa. Luna’s hand was clasped gently around Kevin’s and he looked positively distraught. Ginny sat down on the other end of him and nudged him.
Kevin looked at her. ‘Hello,’ he said. Ginny smiled at him in greeting, prompting him to talk.
‘So after Georgina,’ he began, ‘I went to see this fortune teller-‘
Oh Merlin, Ginny thought. Georgina was Kevin’s ex-girlfriend and, at the time, he was extremely serious about her. They were constantly around each other, and her presence around Kevin somewhat annoyed Luna to a degree that Georgina usually ended up with a particularly spotty face if Kevin brought her out with them. Ginny found the entire situation highly amusing, much to Kevin and Luna’s annoyance. However, when Georgina finally split up with Kevin, under the grounds of him being too “clingy” (Ginny and Luna both scoffed at this-Georgina had been an outright pain in the arse where friends dinners were concerned), he was absolutely devastated, convinced he was never going to be able to find true love again. It was only a few months ago that Kevin had finally got over Georgina, and the two girls were immensely proud of him. Ginny, however, was shocked to hear that Kevin had been visiting fortune tellers. She had done two years living purely as a Muggle (an idea her father had suggested and had needed a pilot study. As his daughter, she was his unfortunate only choice). She had spent an entire holiday at a Muggle fun fair and thus, she understood the ways in which those pesky fortune tellers worked.
‘A Muggle one?’ Ginny asked.
Looking at her sheepishly, Kevin replied, ‘Yes, a Muggle one.’ Luna made a tsk noise at Ginny. Kevin continued, ‘It wasn’t about … Georgina, per se.’ Ginny raised her eyebrow. ‘No! It was about my job! But anyway, so instead of answering my questions about my job,’ he emphasised, ‘she rambles on about how I’ve already found my true love.’
Instead of berating him, Ginny chuckled. ‘Ouch,’ she said. ‘Deep. Very deep.’
Luna simply nodded her head. Kevin began to explain the exchange between him and the fortune teller. The two girls listened carefully. Apparently, the fortune teller was a little “everywhere” with her readings. Kevin announced his newfound knowledge of the date Tsar Nicholas II abdicated the throne in 1917, which the fortune teller had told him was “very important”. Ginny hadn’t any idea who the Tsar Nicholas was, and she kept her lips tight shut on the comment. As Kevin rambled more and more (“And she said I had to stay away from irons!”) Ginny began to glance continuously to the side and to the clock. The last time Kevin had been through a crisis that required both of the girls to drop whatever they were doing to come now, it had taken him thirty-five minutes. It was half past now, he had been going on for fifteen minutes!
‘And well, I haven’t already found my true love!’ he exclaimed. His face was pale, and a further look at him deduced that Kevin was truly and utterly perplexed. His hair was ruffled-generally a sign of confusion-and his nose was currently scrunched up, representing his acrimony at the fortune teller and her revelation.
Despite her laughter, Ginny felt a stab of empathy. He was her friend, but he had been very silly to listen to a fortune teller. ‘Maybe it’ll come and bite you unexpectedly in the arse.’
She stifled her giggles, and Kevin sighed, missing her point altogether. ‘Ginny, there’s the thing about me not believing in destiny and all that.’
‘Really?’ interrupted Luna. ‘But you’re a Ravenclaw!’
He sighed again. ‘Yes, where I fit in because of my logical mind,’ he said, stressing the word “logical”. Luna huffed. Kevin looked to Ginny in help.
‘Despite the Muggle jumbo, you need to get back in the game anyway,’ Ginny noted. ‘Otherwise you’re going to end up as one of them male-spinster types. You know, a male version of a cat woman.’ She laughed at her own little remark, only to look back at Kevin and Luna rolling their eyes together. Ginny snorted.
Kevin looked down at his hands. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not going to end up like one of those people.’ He turned his gaze up towards Ginny. ‘I’m not, am I?’ Luna shook her head miserably at his self-esteem. Ginny smiled at him.
‘Ergo,’ she said, her hands gesturing to her grand finale, ‘you need to get yourself a bird.’
Luna’s hand raised. ‘Yes! I hear parakeets are all the rang-’
‘Not one of those, Luna!’ Ginny said, her voice rising. ‘Get yourself a girl,’ Ginny enunciated. Luna tilted her head backwards to observe Kevin, ignoring Ginny. The two girls waited for a response-it was ten more minutes until Ginny’s hour was up. The redhead pursed her lips and looked at Kevin, waiting for a response.
Finally, he sighed, broke free of their hands and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I need to focus on my career, G, I can’t do that and look for another girl.’
Ginny was about to reply when a small beep sounded inside Kevin’s robes. His face contorted in worry and he pulled out a small, blue device that was currently vibrating and glowing with green hues. Luna thought it was quite pretty. Kevin, on the other hand, groaned at it and stood up. ‘Speaking of career. Gotta go, the boss is calling a meeting. Floo okay, Lu?’
Luna nodded, getting up to hug him goodbye. ‘Take care. Watch out for Gulping Plimpies. They’ll attack when you’re at your most vulnerable.’
‘G’bye,’ Ginny said, as he got up and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
‘See you later,’ Luna called out to him.
He nodded at both of the girls, and waved as he shouted his destination and disappeared from Luna’s home. As he left, Ginny looked at her watch. ‘I better be going soon, too, Luna.’ She rose and hugged her friend before choosing her method of transportation: Disapparation.
* * *
Dear Ron and Hermione,
As you requested: the weekly check-up. Things are fine here in England. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, and yes, I’m sure nothing unexpected and life-threatening will crop up soon, Hermione.
The family are doing well, Ron, but I thought the point of your holiday was so you two could spend some quality time with each other, without having to worry about everyone else you share oxygen with.
Still alive and not suffering from withdrawal symptoms,
Harry,
Also known as the best part of the so-called “golden trio”.
* * *
The Quidditch drive.
Ginny liked flying. It relaxed her and let her experience a medium that made her believe that she wasn’t Ginny Weasley, working in retail at a clothing store. A Muggle-style clothing store, because the manager, who was actually a witch, decided she liked the style of Muggle shops. No, in the air, she was just Ginny. She rather liked that. She flew freely, diving and simply spinning gracefully in the air. She closed her eyes. There was a large-a very large-difference to this poignant flying and her flying whilst playing Quidditch. The blond who was currently mounting his broom noticed this, and flew up towards her, eloquently matching her pace.
‘Ginny,’ he called.
Her eyes flew open, and she grinned at him. ‘Draco.’
‘Couple rounds with the Quaffle?’ he asked, gripping his broomstick tighter and swerving to stop just in front of her; he held the red ball in his left hand. Ginny pulled a face at him as she jutted her broom underneath him and began to ruthlessly scour around the pitch. Draco followed behind without a moment’s delay, deflecting the other flyers as they passed. She laughed at his attempts to follow her, glancing backwards every so often to see him quickly catching up.
‘QUAFFLE!’
Ginny turned around, looking up, and automatically held her hands out to stop the incoming object. Through this, however, she lost her grip on the broom-the Quaffle launched itself onto her chest and propelled her back. Predicting this would happen, Draco hurriedly flew towards her and caught her just as she manoeuvred her legs. The blond looked at Ginny whose legs were currently locked on her broomstick; she was dangling upside down, the Quaffle firmly in her hands.
‘Hi,’ she said, grinning.
He let out a sigh of relief, rolling the sleeves on his arms and placing his hands strategically on her shoulders. The little ringlets of hair that cascaded down gave him the image that she was on fire. He sniggered a little, tightening his hold on his broom as other people flew past them, slowing down to look at what had happened whilst giving odd looks at the duo. Draco shrugged his shoulders at them as he took a deep breath.
‘Right, how’re we going to do this?’ he said to her, hands still holding her up-albeit, pointlessly. She attempted a shrug herself, but only resulted in a little jerk of her broomstick. Draco’s own hands automatically tightened their hold on her. ‘All right,’ he said dryly, ‘let’s not do that again.’
‘Did you hear about Luna and Rolf?’ Ginny asked.
Draco raised his eyebrows. ‘Is it really the time to talk about these things?’
Ginny giggled. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she said. ‘If you could just hold the Quaffle,’ she held it out and he cautiously let go of her shoulders and took the red ball, ‘then I could swing up,’ she swung up, her hands attaching themselves to the other end of her broomstick, ‘and climb back on.’ She climbed back on. Draco swallowed.
‘Right!’ she said, catching her breath and sorting out her attire as best she could in the air. ‘I’m good, you?’ she asked, a little curious at his quietness.
‘No,’ he simply replied. He threw her the Quaffle.
She laughed at him. Then, putting the Quaffle under her arm, she slowly began to take the broom around in circles. Draco followed suit. Ginny looked at him slyly, and then flew down in front of him, her back to him.
‘Oh, well, um, I think they’re getting serious,’ she said. ‘Luna and Rolf.’
‘Right,’ Draco said, unsure of what to say.
‘She joined some nature society thing,’ Ginny replied, babbling. ‘Rolf Scamander, that is, by the way.’ She threw the Quaffle upwards and back at him and he caught it with one hand, rolling it into his body.
‘Ah, the nephew of Newt.’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘That’s the one.’ Ginny closed her eyes, and her broom began to swing gently from side-to-side. Draco looked awkwardly at her; this was very impractical! If she fell, really fell this time, then he’d feel absolutely awful. He gulped, and as he hurried forwards on his broom, leant forward to brush her arm. What Draco did not anticipate, however, was her yelping. Her eyes flew open. Draco yanked his arm back.
‘What are you doing?’ she said, dragging out her words.
‘I didn’t want you to fall,’ he responded, attempting to look completely unfazed. ‘And you would have, if your eyes were kept closed.’
‘How did you know my eyes were closed?’ she asked him curiously. She nodded towards the Quaffle as her broomstick edged backwards a little. Draco sighed a little at her preposition. She would just never stay; she always wanted to do something. Nonetheless, he backed away a little and then threw her the Quaffle.
‘Well?’ she prompted again, louder this time. She threw the ball back to him, and he flung it back towards her. With every throw and catch, the two players would go further away from each other. Draco noticed that the pitch seemed to be emptying of people; the only people left he could spot were below the two as they rose steadily higher and higher. A lock of blond hair fell in front of his face but the wind hitting him from all sides and he decided to simply not both put it back in place. Ginny’s own hair was currently tangled and she was having great trouble with attempting to give a well-aimed throw amidst the strewn hair.
‘I don’t know,’ he called in reply to her question.
‘Of course you do!’ she yelled back.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’ He made a large gesture, pointing downwards. ‘Do you want to call it a day?’
He saw her look down and nod. As one last go, she flew closer towards him-realising the Quaffle wasn’t really meant for long distances-and threw it. He caught it, losing his breath for a second or so whilst she shook her head, smiling, at his attempt. The two players then lowered themselves, eyes fixed on each other, as they landed on the green pitch. They didn’t say anything. Draco held the Quaffle under his arm, his broomstick in the other, as Ginny readied herself after landing; he paused, watching her, and she caught him. Her raised eyebrows met his stare. He blinked, looking away.
‘You know,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘this reminds me of the time we first met.’ She held up her broomstick, and gestured towards the exit. They began walking in the direction of a small, brown hut. A man on duty smiled at the two, nodding his head in acknowledgement as Draco passed him the Quaffle. Draco turned his attention back to Ginny, as they turned around and headed for the larger building.
‘The first time we met? Wasn’t that when you were like under a metre tall?’
Ginny shot him a look, Draco easily towered over her. He chuckled.
‘No,’ she said, relatively calm. ‘I mean properly. When I didn’t think you were some stupid div,’ she added cheekily.
‘Ah, so you don’t think I’m stupid now?’ he asked.
‘Let me rephrase,’ she said. ‘When I became tolerant of your stupidity.’ She winked at him.
‘Aw, now that’s a bit mean.’ There was a playful edge in his tone of voice.
She shrugged. ‘It was a weird day, that was,’ she responded, referring to the day they had met. ‘I threw coffee over you.’
‘I do recall.’
‘And here we are, flying together.’
‘Walking together,’ he corrected.
She ignored him. ‘You wouldn’t have thought, would you?’ And Draco became nervous at her forwardness. Was she implying something?
They reached the opening, the inside of the building had a magical barrier of some sort, there was no wall to separate it, just a charm, Ginny had been told, that allowed the good weather in, and the bad weather out. A couple passed them and they smiled sweetly at the two. Ginny laughed at the hint.
‘Err, no, I wouldn’t have,’ Draco replied, he had subtly ignored the smile.
‘Honestly, I’m glad we are though. You’re the only friend who ever has spare time to come flying with me. Everyone else doesn’t or is too busy.’
‘I’m glad you think of me that way,’ he said dryly.
Ginny shook her head at him playfully.
* * *
Dear Mr Rolf Scamander,
In regards to your previous welcome letter to the club, I thought I’d let you know that I’m thinking of walking up the Pennines in a couple of months. The plans haven’t been finalised yet, but it would be very nice if we could arrange a group-walk. Apparently there have been a few reports of hairy five-legged creatures that emit the most terrible sounds. I do believe the Muggles have caught a Furpy Twitterack pack.
Let me know as soon as possible,
Luna Lovegood
P.S. My father would like to say that the ginger biscuits on Saturday were divine, and he would like to pass on his compliments to the club cook.
* * *
Ginny and Draco plus hot chocolate.
They sat down on a small table facing each other. There was an café on one of the top floors of the Quidditch drive building, the windows served as observation points. Ginny sipped the cup of steaming hot chocolate. Her nose was pink, as was her ears, and her eyes held a little spark in them. Grinning, she said, ‘How’s my favourite Greengrass?’
On the other side, Draco had left his cup to cool down; the steam rising up in the air as he sat back to avoid it all. He was looking out of the glass-paned windows, watching another pair of flyers take off in the terrible weather. He turned back to look at Ginny. ‘Astoria?’
‘Yes, she,’ Ginny emphasised, ‘has a fabulous sense of fashion.’
Draco chuckled at her, and then began, ‘She’s …’ irritating, annoying, seems to believe there’s going to be something between us one day, ‘good.’ The corner of his mouth curled into a half-attempted smile. He placed his hands over the cup, checking its warmth, and finding it too hot for his liking, rested his hand back down on his knee.
‘That’s good,’ Ginny said after awhile.
‘How’s Ron?’ Draco asked soon after. Ginny pressed her lips together, as she contemplated the odd question. Then again, she had asked him about someone else. She took another sip.
‘He’s good,’ she replied.
‘That’s … good.’
Ginny nodded. Today, Lu, we had a very dull conversation, she thought. We talked about Rolf and Luna, and then Astoria Greengrass and Ron. Thinking back, Ginny thought of a moment when she and Draco went through a session when they had absolutely everything to talk about. From the weather, to Quidditch league tables, there was a time when they could think of anything to say and say it. Ginny didn’t know what was wrong with them, but all of a sudden, they were acting very strange towards each other. They were almost distant, but not, for there were recent times when they could stop non-stop about a specific subject. She could see that when Draco wouldn’t say something, he wanted to say something, and it was irritating her now. Then again, Ginny could apply the same problem to her. If she wanted to tell him something, she’d run it through her head several times before-if it made it past pick-apart stage-relaying it back to him. Her lost confidence in this aspect worried her much. She actually wanted to tell him something outrageous now, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Draco Malfoy had entered a new stage in their relationship; the problem being, she couldn’t figure out which.
‘So,’ she croaked out, forcing herself to speak, ‘how’s the love life?’ The moment the words left her lips, Ginny had to resist bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Did I just say that? A string of words were on a brain-marquee, as she attempted to pass the question as a completely and natural question. I hate you subconscious. I hate you subconscious. Her internal anguish and annoyance only proved that the stage Draco Malfoy had now entered was a red zone: dangerous. She didn’t want him anywhere near the red zone! It was far too complicated, and I’m his friend. A good friend, she added on mentally.
On the other hand, Draco seemed completely fazed at the how personal the query had been. Ginny’s heart gave way a little at his apathetic stare at her, as he said monotonously, ‘Inexistent.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well, same.’
‘The fact that your love life is nonexistent doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,’ he responded dryly, with a little smirk. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.
’I am not above blowing your family jewels off,’ Ginny warned him.
Draco made a hurt face, and then put his hands up in a mock-surrender, saying, ‘Yeah, that would hurt.’
Ginny pursed her lips, looking at the corner of the ceiling, then turned back around to face Draco and smirked at him. ’On second thoughts, Furnunculus doesn't seem too bad, either.’
* * *
Dennis Creevey is very horrible; very horrible, indeed.
Tracey stood, leaning against a beige-coloured wall, waiting for her father to come out of his staff meeting. There was a cactus in the corner, its prickly exterior spreading to the quiet atmosphere. Tracey slid down the wall and onto the floor, holding her knees to her chest as she waited for the meeting to end.
‘I’m meeting with the Greengrasses in South Africa, you can join me if you want.’ Her father had never been interested in her personal life, but Tracey figured he had heard about Theo through her mother. It was good timing, Tracey thought. She had not updated her mother on the Theo situation.
‘I’ll think about,’ Tracey had replied, and that had been the end of that. She was to give him her final answer after his staff-meeting, and she waited impatiently for him. As she ran her fingers across the carpeted floor, the door clicked open and the first of her father’s workers walked out. She stood up. Some had indignant expressions, and others walked and talked with others, paying her no attention. After dismissing the people who came through one by one as she observed the door, she missed the only one person who did pay her attention, and he folded his arms as he stopped in front of her whilst his friend stood beside him as the remaining people left the room.
‘Well, well, well,’ she heard a voice say. She focused her gaze on the man in front of her.
‘Creevey,’ she replied curtly, ‘has my father not sacked you yet for indecent exposure?’ she added sweetly, making reference to the office incident two Christmases ago. He kept his cool demeanour, and she looked over his shoulder to see if her father was coming out. Dennis shook his head at Tracey to the man beside him.
‘Do tell me, how’s Nott’s fidelity these days?’ Instantly, Dennis knew he had said the wrong thing. His arms dropped to his sides, as Tracey simultaneously dropped to the floor, inhabiting a sitting-up foetal position, much like she had before the end of the meeting. Dennis gulped. He hadn’t meant for his comment to come out like that! Well, he did, but that was besides the point. He could not get suspended for this, or, worse, fired. She had made a comment about a drunken incident! And yes, perhaps, against office gossip, it was a very insignificant thing compared to his boss’s daughter’s relationship, but he couldn’t help himself. She was too weak and so easy to wind-up.
‘Ignore him,’ Kevin said to her, dropping to the floor and putting his arm around her. Tracey sobbed loudly, and Dennis only raised his eyebrow at the unexpected contact. He rolled his eyes at the two as Tracey began to ramble on about Theodore Nott and Kevin looked horrified with worry about the situation. He had never had to deal with the hysterical daughter of his boss before! Dennis rolled his eyes, as Kevin hesitantly began to soothe her.
Leave, Dennis mouthed at him. Kevin violently shook his head. Tracey wailed.
‘No, no!’ Kevin said hurriedly. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t, um, cry over Nott! He’s a … he’s a bastard.’
She would have giggled if it were not for her snivelling. Astoria’s word came back to her, and Kevin only reiterated what the other girl had been telling her. Tracey choked up. ‘W-why are you being so nice to me?’ Tracey said to him. ‘I-I’m always horrible to you! I don’t deserve n-niceness.’
Kevin shrugged, as Dennis looked to the side fed-up, pointing to his watch. ‘You shouldn’t cry over Nott,’ he said carefully. ‘He’s simply not worth it.’ Dennis glanced back at the door, it was closed, and he knew that her father might come out anytime soon and find the three in an awkward situation. They had to go!
‘No,’ Dennis offered, gesturing dramatically to Kevin to go, ‘no cheating son-of-a-bitch is.’ He folded his arms again, and decided to lean against the white wall whilst waiting for Kevin to finish consoling her. Kevin shot him a look, as Tracey kept her head faced down as she continued to weep. This is getting bloody ridiculous, Dennis thought. He was obviously not meant for problems driven by female emotions. The three stayed there for several moments. Dennis was slowly counting the seconds; Kevin was stroking Tracey’s arm, and Tracey was calming herself down in the companionable silence.
‘M-my daddy wants to take me to South Africa,’ she said after awhile. ‘Do you think Nott might chase me there?’
Dennis rolled his eyes. Kevin heard the hope in her voice. ‘Um, no, no I don’t think he will,’ he replied, although he wasn’t particularly sure if this was the right thing to say as she immediately sobbed again (And she’d nearly stopped, Dennis grunted to himself) and more high-pitched. ‘I mean, I don’t think you should, ah, run away from your fears. Because, uh, that means … Nott has won. You have to, uh, suck it up and face it.’ Dennis’s face contorted in embarrassment. Of course, he may not have been meant for female, emotion-driven problems but he knew that you did not tell one to “suck it up and face it”. Fortunately, Tracey seemed to have ignored the crudeness of Kevin’s suggestion, and for that, Dennis was thankful.
Tracey scrunched her nose up in thought, and at the sound of a door opening, Dennis straightened his posture immediately. Kevin’s eyes widened as he saw her father emerge from the meeting room. The large man only looked at them awkwardly and hesitantly, although Dennis was perfectly sure that his boss could easily have them murdered. This is probably how he got so rich, Dennis thought, he has facades; he tricks people into thinking they’re not on his hit list and then they are. He wailed silently in his head: I’m going to die a young man! Tracey was still unaware of her father’s presence until Kevin patted her on the shoulder and got up from the floor, leaving her to sit alone.
‘Heh, nice talking to ya,’ he said to Tracey, although he was looking at her father. Dennis grinned sheepishly at his boss, and Kevin gave a weak smile before promptly leaving the two Davises alone on the corridor.
Noticing the large shadow, and the smell of cologne, Tracey rose and threw herself into her father’s arms. His arms lifted themselves up and he slowly patted her on the back, as she buried her wet face into the crook of his neck. ‘Daddy,’ she said. After receiving no response, she uncurled her arms and then stepped back and looked at him. Her pretty face was covered in red splotches.
‘Tracey.’ He coughed. ‘Have you, err, thought any more of the expedition?’
She took a deep breathe. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘And I, um.’ She paused, looking worried about her next response, but then something washed over her face, her eyes widened in gladness. ‘I say no. I have to face Nott. Suck it up and face it,’ she added more confidently.
He grunted. He pursed his lips, and the upper corner of his lip raised as he wondered what to say. He looked at his daughter and then said, ‘Very well.’ Tracey grinned at him. ‘Anything else I can be of service to?’
Tracey pressed her lips together. ‘A Hit Wizard might come in handy,’ she grumbled. ‘If Theo is still very horrible to me.’
Then she laughed with her father and his lips curled into a smile with her.
( amor inter nos est 2/3 )
( amor inter nos est 3/3 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
What would you like to receive?
The tone/mood of the fic: I am obsessed with fluff, so the ending at least has to be rainbow and unicorns and all cute and happy, but I'm completely down with angst or death or anything else you want in the body of the fic. And a little bit of humor thrown in wouldn't be bad either.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Have you ever seen Love Actually? I'm not saying that any of the lines or characters or anything need to be incorporated into the fic, but the whole idea and style and tone of that movie to be transferred to a D/G fic would be awesome.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: PG-13 and under
Canon or AU? Either is fine
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): A fic that shows Harry in a really bad light, PWP, rape and bestiality and incest and all that jazz
Rating: PG-13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Language; quite AU-ish, events in books can be discarded or included as wished. There is a reference to a slightly significant event in Deathly Hallows, although it is very minor. Major characterisation blooms with some of the minors in canon, so a warning for that, too. ;)
Summary: An ensemble cast presents amor inter nos est: a production all about love. Astoria and Daphne share an odd sort of sibling relationship; Harry needs to find himself; Tracey Davis needs to start drinking more cappuccino; Ginny is hidden well underneath at least ten layers at a time and, well, Draco? Draco needs to take a lesson in subtlety.
Author's Notes: In my world, fashion stretches out across the Muggle world; beware of all the references! How many can you count? Also, many thanks to Oph, who helped with a few nuances I was having; Zunny, who was prompt and extremely helpful, and finally to Amber, whose traits I borrowed for a few of the characters -- oh, and her mad proofreading skills -- in this fic. To the prompter: I had quite a bit of fun incorporating Love Actually themes in the fic! And to everyone else: I hope you enjoy.
amor inter nos est 1/3
March
Thus we begin the story, located in the town centre.
Her eyes were closed, and her nose was scrunched up, breathing in the foul and humid smell of the hotdog stand nearby her. The van was parked only a couple of yards away, but the stench was wafting itself to her. She was completely and utterly disgusted, and if Astoria wouldn’t hurry up out of the shop in five minutes, then she would not be responsible for her actions. Every so often, she would hear people yelling things, attempting to sell pointless and absolutely useless items for the grand price of five Galleons, and, well, five Galleons was a lot for the rubbish they were selling-she was tempted to tell the gullible lot who were looking at the items on “demo” that the items were crap. Crap, she’d tell them, five Galleons for a silly old toy? Get a pedicure, instead.
Daphne Greengrass opened her eyes and clutched her handbag tightly towards her with her forearm as she glanced back at the shop window where her younger sister was browsing the racks of clothing. She had refused to go in, after an incident with one of the sales assistant who was currently on duty. Daphne glanced downwards, hands in pocket, taking in the red cobbled pavement she was stood on. There was a circular arrangement of seats not to far away, but there were also dirty grey pigeons (‘Sky rats!’ her mother always complained) and people who were already sat there muttering to themselves, with cheap Muggle cigarettes in their hands. She snuggled in deeper into her beige trench coat, making sure she stepped in as a small child walked past behind her, one foot in front of the other, on the pavement ledge.
‘Follow the yellow brick road,’ they sang jovially, their voice becoming distant as they walked on, and the shrouding salespeople would shout even louder than previously before.
It’s not yellow, Daphne thought irritably, it’s red, you fool.
She turned around, fully intent on going into the shop, grabbing her sister and dragging her away, no longer caring about the silly shop assistant who was obviously not very smart enough anyway to be telling Daphne that she didn’t look very good in her beige trench coat, when she ended up smashing into her. Astoria, that is. Her younger sister raised her eyebrow, already confident, outspoken and an outright nuisance. Daphne glared at her, catching her breath and quickly linking her arm with her sister’s, promptly shoving into her, with hurried movements to get her hands back into her pockets where it was warm. They began walking down the cobbled street, narrowly avoiding touching anyone else’s shoulder, or step on chewing gum that had been carelessly spat on to the ground. Daphne absolutely detested this place.
‘What on earth is up with you?’ Astoria asked her, after a while. Her newly waxed eyebrow was very offending at the moment and Daphne leaned into her sister, clinging onto the other one person-after Daphne herself-who did not belong here. The fact that Astoria was being a pain in the arse was ignored at that moment, when an old beggar man with a scraggly beard walked past them, muttering incoherent words, his arms wide apart, apparently not caring if he touched strangers. ‘Ew,’ Astoria said under her breath.
‘I loathe this area,’ Daphne replied. ‘I don’t understand why we can’t go to nice places. I smell ridiculously of hotdogs,’ she added as an afterthought.
Astoria tilted her head down and sniffed her sister’s neck. ‘Hmm, I still smell Fabuleuse.’ She lifted her head back up, looking straight ahead, with a smirk on her face. ‘Cheap rubbish.’
‘It was a gift from him,’ Daphne curtly retorted. ‘I don’t see you wearing any of your gifted perfume.’ Slag, she thought, finishing the sentence in her head.
‘That’s because, darling,’ Astoria said, ‘I buy my own perfume.’
‘The money, however, comes from one of your many boyfriends.’
‘I resent that.’
‘Course you do,’ Daphne said, smiling. ‘You need to stop serial dating, sis.’ She then pointed towards a small café with a red border that was now in their view. They had crossed the boundary; they were now in a small area, right in between the intersection of all the tacky places, that was adorned with grey stone and decorated with elaborate flowers. There was a fountain in the middle, a large statue of Neptune, that was littered with Sickles and Knuts. The sun’s rays had caught this secret in the middle of the maze, previously leaving the passageways and main areas of the precinct dark and grey. Of course, there were actually no clouds covering this area, but Daphne much preferred her thought of it. ‘There. He said he’d meet us there.’
‘There? Isn’t it a bit too girly for Draco?’ Astoria said in a sweet voice. She tugged on her sister’s arm, pulling her a little too forcedly. Daphne groaned at her Astoria’s harshness, but let her drag her along into the café. She was curious-very curious-as to what Draco wanted to tell them. It was vague, of course, as everything that came out of his mouth was, but he had said his name! Daphne’s eyes lit up at the very mention of his name, until Astoria pulled her into the depths of the café. It was like she had entered a sepia photograph, the walls were adorned in a coffee brown, money trees were dotted around the counter, and Daphne glimpsed, she was quite certain, Tracey Davis in the corner slowly sipping her drink, looking heavily interested in whoever was currently blocked out by the Mother-in-law’s Tongue.
‘Fool,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘She was always one to go back crawling.’
‘Draco!’ Astoria greeted in her high-pitched squeal. Removing Daphne’s arm, she stood up on her tiptoes, Draco standing up to address them both, and flung her arms around his neck. ‘It’s so good of you to see us,’ she said after a longer-than-necessary hug. Daphne rolled her eyes.
‘Well, I need to tell you two something,’ Draco said.
‘Yes?’ Astoria asked eagerly, cutting Daphne short of her intended answer.
Astoria twitched her body and Daphne shook her head at her sister’s behaviour. She was so bloody obvious it was a shock to Daphne that Draco hadn’t even reacted to her sister’s outlandish attitude. Again, it seemed Astoria had forgotten she was currently seeing someone else. Draco was usually quick to notice these things, but his ego had took to a settling-down recently, and he seemed not to care, lest say anything about it. Daphne pursed her lips.
‘Blaise and Pansy,’ he began, looking at Daphne, maintaining direct eye contact with her, ‘are thinking about a winter wedding.’ He paused. ‘This year,’ he added quickly, looking down at the table.
‘A winter wedding?’ both the sisters asked simultaneously. Daphne’s face was contorted in a look of shock, horror and disappointment. Astoria’s was outlined in shock, horror and disgust.
‘They can’t!’ cried Daphne, throwing up her hands in the air. Draco merely nodded his head at her reaction.
‘But it shall be cold,’ Astoria complained. ‘It’s not as if they’d get any snow, either, I mean, with this weather? All it’d be is this-’ she gestured outside, ‘-times about ten, plus frosty and chilly, and,’ she said, making a face, ‘it only gives them eight months to sort out Pansy Parkinson’s dream wedding.’
‘Astoria,’ Daphne whispered, interrupting Astoria’s ramblings, ‘you need to go to the loo.’
Her sister paused mid-sentence, and looked at her oddly. Daphne’s head was bent down, she was fidgeting with her hands, and Draco looked most sincere at her. Astoria gave a large sigh, got up and softly patted her sister’s head as she excused herself. Daphne emitted a small noise and Draco reached over to lift her chin up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he genuinely was. He wanted to be the first to let Daphne know, before Blaise and Pansy told her, because he knew that Daphne would be hit headfirst; her stomach would knot itself several times; she would choke on her words, and her face would feel like it was sixty degrees. Draco had known this for a long time. She let out a little splutter, coughed; her cheeks reddened, patchy spots of pink swelling.
Daphne sniffled. ‘I know I shouldn’t really be thinking like this, but I-I just didn’t think Pansy w-would do something like t-this.’ Tears were welling up. ‘I mean,’ she stammered, ‘I knew they were serious but I never thought they’d become this,’ she blew her nose, ‘serious. I-It’s so unfair, Draco, why them, and not me? I-I don’t get it.’
‘It’s always been Pansy and Blaise, Daph,’ Draco said softly. ‘You knew that, I knew that. Christ, even Crabbe and Goyle probably knew that.’
‘Yes, b-but it was always y-you and P-Pansy at school,’ she cried. ‘Besides,’ she sniffled once more, ‘Crabbe is dead. Goyle is in Azkaban. I hardly,’ her tone was pompous, ‘think they’re capable of forming a coherent opinion that I’d care about.’
Draco laughed. Ever since he had known her, Daphne Greengrass had been a fully-fledged snob. In fact, if it was not for her father’s insistence, Daphne wouldn’t have attended Hogwarts. Her mother was of the opinion that people like Daphne, wouldn’t do well to mingle with those who could also get into Hogwarts-she wanted Daphne to attend a school where money was the connection. After spending the first year at Hogwarts, Daphne’s snobbish attitude had toned down dramatically, but she was still prone to making the odd comment about her social differences. He chuckled lightly at her. ‘Well, Daphne, I just thought you might want to know ahead of time,’ he said. ‘Before the invitations go out.’
‘But like Astoria said,’ she wiped away some of her tears, ‘they only have eight months to plan Pansy’s dream wedding, and Pansy’s dream wedding takes more than eight months to plan.’
He sighed, not wanting to necessarily say the words, but she prompted him with her glistening eyes, and although he hated to be insensitive, she had to know. Until she accepted it, there would be no chance for her in the outside world. Daphne was too wrapped up in her own world-in a world where everything to her was perfect, except, of course, her love life. Draco understood her view on that aspect of her life was that “he” (an interchangeable variable, but since Hogwarts, it had been stuck at “Blaise”), with the click of a finger, would realise that one day he belonged to Daphne, and she to him. No added complications, just a simple declaration of love and Daphne would be taken. Draco wished that Astoria was here, she’d know what to say. Or she’d say it bluntly enough for Daphne to comprehend. ‘They love each other,’ he simply replied. ‘Pansy’s dream wedding will be when she marries Blaise.’
No, she didn’t understand much. Still sniffling, she snorted as a waft of Fabuleuse flew up her nose. Ironic, she thought. Daphne laughed at herself, he had bought her that perfume when she had come out of a bad relationship. It was just a nice gesture, everyone said, they all knew about Daphne’s obsession with perfume. Blaise was just being nice, and she was wasting her love on him.
* * *
The female lavatory of said café. It’s a very popular café. The toilets aren’t very nice though.
Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis decided, was a big, horrible, mean, vain, conceited, patronising, moronic bastard. Tracey growled at herself-she could no longer be bothered by him, not at all. Of course, their relationship had lasted six years. Six years! Unfortunately, it turned out that three of those six had been shared with a dirty, little Durmstrang whore. Tracey washed her hands furiously under the sink, turning them red and raw with her vigorous scrubs. As Astoria Greengrass stepped in to the toilets, she almost rolled her eyes at the scene, but instead, she walked over to the crying girl and placed an arm around her. Throwing her arm around Astoria, Tracey wept into the younger girl’s shoulder, not caring at all that she actually hated Astoria.
‘I hate him,’ she muffled into her shoulder. ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.’
Astoria carefully moved themselves so she could turn the tap off, and then began to stroke Tracey’s hair. Finding herself entrapped in the arms of a weeping idiot was not what she had intended to do when she had gone to the toilets. It was bloody coincidence, she had thought, that Daphne send her out when Tracey had come in. God, did everyone put their lives on hold for men? However, unpredictably, she found herself liking the comfort she gave. It was a nice sort of feeling. It made her feel smug and clever. Softening to Tracey’s embrace, Astoria hugged the girl tightly and then let her go, holding her by her shoulders.
‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Which idiot’s gone and done this to you now?’ Astoria, however, knew full well which idiot had gone and done this to her. It had only been owled to her several times: the unimaginable break-up between Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott, and the make-up, and then the break-up again-her friends were such gossips. Apparently, he had been cheating on Tracey with an Eastern European, and personally, Astoria thought it was quite amusing. She nodded her head to Tracey, her eyes urging her to answer.
Tracey shivered and then let out, ‘Theo!’
‘Ah yes, he is a bastard,’ Astoria responded dryly, pursing her lips. ‘And I mean that literally, too.’ She had taken it in great delight to continually taunt Theodore about being an “accident”. Such “incidents” were so rare for his cohort, that Astoria found it highly humorous to see how he’d react to every time she would make a passing comment. Of course, Mr and Mrs Nott married soon afterwards, believing they’d be able to cover it up, but the Greengrass’s were quite observant. Daphne would scold her in public, because Theo was her friend, and she would always tell Astoria to pick on someone her own size. Astoria had obviously inherited some of her mother’s horrible genes, and played ignorant whenever she felt a lecture was incoming from Daphne. She found anything connected to Theo outrageously funny, and continually made him feel uncomfortable, just because she could. She stifled back a giggle at the memories. First priority was the girl in front of her: she had to be cheered up.
The other girl only raised an eyebrow, looking at her oddly, and Astoria quickly got back into motherly action. ‘I mean what did he do?’
‘He asked me to meet him,’ she said, still crying. ‘And then he-then he …’
‘He?’ Astoria raised her voice a little.
‘He told me to stop contacting him!’
Oh dear, Astoria thought. ‘Have you, ah, been contacting him?’ Astoria didn’t find a problem in Theodore’s request at all, in fact, she had been in that position herself-quite a few times now-and none of the males had gone off to the loo to cry themselves silly! Ah, but of course, women are supposedly more prone to be emotionally-driven, aren’t they? Astoria sighed, she hadn’t felt like that for a long time. Bless Tracey. Bless Theo. Bless Daphne. Bless all the poor sods of the world.
‘I’ve just been sending him a couple of owls a day, you know,’ Tracey said, still sniffling, Astoria handed her a tissue, and she took it gratefully. ‘And sometimes when I need to talk, I’ll just Floo him, but he’ll shout at me! Like I’ve done something wrong …’
Hmm, obsessing: check.
‘Then he accused me of stalking him outside of his house. Well, I wasn’t stalking him, I just wanted to come over and talk with him.’
Stalking: check.
‘Then he said “fine” and left it at that, and I thought he meant we were fine, so I arranged dinner with his parents.’ Tears began to leak again. ‘And-and he said I was a nutter! And then a few days later, like today, he asked me to-to meet him here,’ she whined out, ‘and I did come, but then he told me to stop trying to contact him.’ Astoria handed her another tissue. The one Tracey was holding was already soaked. The Greengrass made a sound of pity and sympathy. Astoria was finding it hard to emphasise; she didn’t know what else to do, so she continued to hand out the tissues as Tracey continued to tell her sad tale. By the end of it, they were now both sat down on the toilet floor (although both were sat on toilet paper mats) and Astoria had her head back, leaning against the wall, and laughing softly at Tracey.
‘Davis, you’re so ridiculous,’ she said to her.
‘Oh, be quiet, Astoria,’ she said, wiping her eyes. It seemed that now Tracey had finally calmed herself down, she knew exactly who she was speaking to, and who she was speaking to was the bane of her school life for the five years she was there. She hadn’t quite expected Astoria to be the listening type of person; the response she had received after telling Astoria her life story didn’t seem very fair and equal at all. She glanced at the other girl again who was currently moving her foot side to side. At that moment, a little girl came through and promptly left after seeing the two women on the floor. Tracey scowled. I’m not that scary, she thought to herself.
‘You need to get over him,’ Astoria responded, ignoring her. ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea, is what I say.’ She lifted her arm up and began to stroke Tracey’s wet hair, matting it out against her head again and smirked at Tracey’s obvious indifference regarding the situation. Astoria could remember when Daphne had laughed herself silly the time Tracey had been voted for the “most sensitive” in the house members awards at Slytherin. Daphne had bagged “most flirtatious”-only to be taken out by her own sister, Astoria, a few years later-and had carelessly used this material for dormitory talk. Tracey hadn’t been very impressed, to say the least.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ Tracey asked indignantly.
‘I do, actually,’ Astoria muttered. She didn’t really like her current boyfriend, he was a silly man with silly ideals but he put the jewels in her hands and was polite. Astoria would have broken it off in the early stages, if it weren’t for the fact that her potential boyfriend was currently courting someone else. Such was life, but such was a nice, luxurious life where she only had to say “please” and bag in the cash. There were several others who she was currently seeing as acquaintances who she could easily pass as her boyfriend, but none quite matched up to the title yet.
‘Well,’ Tracey said, not sure what to say, she felt it wasn’t her time yet to pry. ‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Speed dating,’ Astoria replied immediately. Her face lit-up in anticipation. ‘I’ve never been speed dating before, wanna try it?’
‘Eh,’ Tracey picked herself up from the floor, ‘no. As much as I’d like to thank you for listening,’ Astoria got up, too and bowed, smoothing down her skirt, ‘I don’t think I’m ready for speed dating. Or any kind of dating.’
Astoria rolled her eyes. ‘That’s what they all say.’ Tracey turned her back on Astoria and headed straight towards the mirrors, back to the sinks and examined her puffy facial features. Muttering incomprehensible words of the profanity variety as she hastily wiped away any signs of crying from her face. Astoria flicked her long black hair behind her as she whispered a few words in Tracey’s direction; her face began to recompose itself, much to Tracey’s bewilderment, and Astoria smirked. ‘Eh, I’ve had lots of time to master wandless magic,’ she explained. Tracey nodded hesitantly at her in the mirror, and then turned around.
‘Get over him,’ Tracey repeated from earlier. ‘Get over him and find someone new?’ She looked at Astoria with eager eyes, and Astoria nodded with a small smile on her face. So Tracey was clingy and obsessed with men-surely the next one could tell her that. She’s been through too much today, Astoria reasoned. Tracey smiled weakly at the girl, and then looked at her watch. ‘Oh Merlin, I’m late, I’m late. Daddy wanted to have a meeting with me.’ She flung herself towards the exit, waving her hand at Astoria.
Astoria grinned at her. ‘Bye Trace,’ she called, but Tracey was already out of the door. Astoria checked her make-up in the mirror, smiling, and waited at least a minute before departing.
* * *
The Greengrasses gang up on Draco. Ah, good ol’ times.
Fresh tears dropped down Daphne’s face. Draco raised his head up in greeting, and Astoria reappeared by her side, and placed a comforting arm around her. The younger sister glanced at Draco, and then placed her forehead on Daphne’s. She could be a bitch, but she was her bitch, and sometimes, just sometimes, Astoria could be nice, so Daphne allowed the contact without saying a word. At that moment, Daphne was being awfully whiny, but she was her sister, so Astoria smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. Daphne had fallen head-over-heels in love with someone who was unfortunately unavailable. She hoped her sister would fall out of the depressing situation soon. Unrequited love was always horrible.
‘All you need is love,’ she sang gently to her sister.
‘… love,’ Draco carried on.
‘Love is all you need,’ Daphne finished reluctantly. Then she snorted, thus ruining the moment between the three and Astoria giggled. The oldest sister pointed sharply at Draco’s direction and rolled her eyes at him. She wiped away some of her tears, she would not be quietened like this, and she had things to do and people to see, better to rid of her sad mood now by distracting herself with gossip material. ‘You’re one to talk,’ she started snidely. ‘How are things with you and lovergirl?’
It was Draco’s turn to sigh, and he did so irritably, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘They’re fine, and she is not my lovergirl.’
‘Pfft,’ Astoria added, ‘you feed her every day.’
Daphne nodded, folding her arms, as if to say now we’ve sorted me out, it’s your turn. She peeked a look at her sister, and Astoria was still jabbering on to Draco, her reasons finely ironed out.
‘… and, disregarding this previous conversation, when you’re not talking to her, you’re talking about her.’
Daphne nodded her head enthusiastically in agreement. The drumming of Draco’s fingers began to die down softly. Astoria carried on, talking with her hands.
‘You’re always glancing through the window, looking at her, and then glancing back again to make sure she didn’t catch you looking-every time you walk past the shop …’
Draco looked down.
‘… and Daphne and I totally approve,’ Astoria finished.
Daphne stopped nodding her head, turned to her sister and raised her eyebrow instead. Firstly, she became interested in this sudden outburst-had Astoria hit her head in the toilets or something? She wasn’t supposed to be approving of the girl, she was supposed to be fighting for Draco! Secondly, she did not approve of lovergirl, at all. Daphne was just merely interested in Draco’s relationship with her. By the time Daphne zoned back into the conversation, Astoria was still babbling and Draco’s cheeks were now reddening, an amusing feature on his otherwise characteristically pale face.
‘… and I bet you’re at that stage when you’re doing all those lame, cheesy things like trying to think of synonyms for “brown” because you want to impress her with what colour her eyes are,’ Astoria scoffed.
‘Woah, no!’ Draco said, aghast. ‘No, I am not at that stage.’ He paused and then relaxed back into his chair, giving the two girls a curious look. ‘Do, err, men actually do that?’
Astoria rolled her eyes. ‘Yes they do, and it fails horribly.’ Draco gave her a questioning look. ‘If you gave me a Galleon for every time someone’s used that on me, then you’d be lookin’ at one very rich lady.’
Daphne resisted making a comment on Astoria’s current financial situation-she was receiving money from her parents, her boyfriends and had her own trust funds, and got back into action. ‘So what is the deal with you and lovergirl?’ Momentarily ignoring Draco’s fed-up expression.
‘She is not my lovergirl,’ Draco replied through gritted teeth. A lock of blond hair fell down and Astoria reached over to place it back behind his ear; she fell back into her seat. Daphne rolled her eyes and Draco looked at her awkwardly. ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ he said gravely. ‘It wasn’t supposed to do that,’ he bit out, more to himself than the girls.
The corner of Astoria’s upper lip raised in sarcasm. ‘Oh, please, you were trying that staring-us-down thing. You’d try to make us shut up, and that hair would annoy the hell out of both parties.’ She leaned back. ‘Besides, you do have rather pretty eyes, doesn’t he, Daphne?’ Astoria pointed to Draco and he shirked back whilst Astoria sniggered at him.
‘Well, whatever, what’s the deal? Fess up.’ Daphne eyed him curiously, tactfully ignoring Astoria who was currently laughing at her way to make the most awkward moments. Draco looked away.
‘C’mon, Daphne did spill her entire life story,’ Astoria added.
‘My like for Blaise?’ Daphne looked aghast. She turned to her sister, her face scrunched up in annoyance. Astoria rolled her eyes, twirling a strand of hair with her fingers, looking pointedly distracted.
‘Exactly.’
‘Oh, you little-’
Draco pulled out his hands, palms out in front to stop the two sisters. ‘Greengrasses, calm down.’
Daphne huffed, and slowly reclined back, relaxing into her chair. Astoria smiled slyly in her sister’s direction but relaxed into hers and then faced Draco again. ‘Right, Malfoy, details. Spill. Now.’
‘Nothing, Daphne, nothing is happening.’ Draco sighed. ‘Unfortunately,’ he added. He glanced sideways, seeing the waitress keep well away from their table. That was unfortunate; caffeine in his system would be superb. However, the waitress seemed to be well acquainted with Astoria Greengrass and her apparent lack of empathy, as well as her ability to make someone feel five inches tall in less than thirty seconds; something she had had the misfortune to experience.
Astoria opened her mouth in shock. ‘Unfortunately, eh?’ She had hit it: bingo! This was as good as Draco admitting he actually did like someone, and that was a very large step. For the past few years previous to knowing him, Astoria had believed him to be asexual. He had choked when she let this be known and he had never quite been the same with her.
He sighed, almost woefully, at Daphne’s observation. ‘Yes, unfortunately. I don’t think she wants a serious relationship at this moment in time.’
Hmm, Astoria thought, this is rather interesting.
‘You haven’t had sex with her yet then?’ Astoria asked casually.
Draco raised his eyebrow at her. ‘No, Astoria, we haven’t had sex yet.’
Daphne took a note of the attached “yet” and stifled a giggle. She placed a well-manicured hand in front of her mouth instead and looked outside to the window, distracted. Daphne could recall the last time Astoria was being pointedly annoying and inquisitive, it ended up with Daphne nearly cracking her ribs from laughing so hard at the silliness. Unfortunately, she doubted Draco would be as much fun as the others, he was much more serious than them and, unfavourably, refused to be intimidated as such.
‘Shame,’ she trilled. ‘God, the reason behind that is going to be some gentleman-y thingy, isn’t it?’
Draco sighed again miserably. ‘I think she just wants a purely,’ he emphasised, ‘platonic relationship right now.’ His fingers resumed their drumming as the girls tilted their heads in wonder and thought.
* * *
Dear Pansy,
Theodore Nott is now history.
Love,
Tracey
* * *
Introducing protagonist one, out of a possible ten.
Having the afternoon off, Ginny Weasley was sat on her couch, eating an oatmeal bar and reading a magazine. After various incidents with silly old women at the shop (“Are you sure my bottom doesn’t look big in this?”), she had the rest of the day planned to be as carefree as possible. She was due to be at the Quidditch grounds in an hour. It was a flying “range” if one could call it that. It merely consisted of her flying and practising her Quidditch skills. Despite the monthly tournaments of Weasley family Quidditch, she was sorely lacking in her skills, especially as Chaser. Harry, as an Auror, had been formally dismissed as Seeker and his position was given to her. Unfortunately this month, Harry was back after vacating his spot as the Head of the Auror department in order to “find himself”. The Ministry had bent over backwards to ensure this was possible. Hermione disapproved terribly of Harry’s “parsimonious” excuse. The Weasley siblings had all called bullshit, and he had simply agreed.
As she took the last bite of the bar, her fire burst into green flames and Luna’s voice carried itself across the room towards her. ‘Ginny,’ Luna conversed through the fireplace, ‘you’re needed.’
The redhead raised her head from Witch Weekly. She Vanished the bar’s empty wrapping paper and sighed. ‘Lu, I have a Quidditch drive booked in an hour.’
Luna playfully rolled her eyes, and Ginny shook her head with a smile. ‘It’s not going to take that long,’ Luna said. ‘A friend is desperately in need.’
Ginny sat up. ‘Kev?’
Luna nodded, and Ginny stood up, an inquiring look in her eyes. Luna shut off the Floo connection without a goodbye, and Ginny took it as a sign that they needed her right now. Accio’ing her burgundy-coloured coat, she Disapparated to Luna’s house. After focusing her vision and stabilising her entrance-posture, she saw Luna and Kevin Entwhistle sat on the sofa. Luna’s hand was clasped gently around Kevin’s and he looked positively distraught. Ginny sat down on the other end of him and nudged him.
Kevin looked at her. ‘Hello,’ he said. Ginny smiled at him in greeting, prompting him to talk.
‘So after Georgina,’ he began, ‘I went to see this fortune teller-‘
Oh Merlin, Ginny thought. Georgina was Kevin’s ex-girlfriend and, at the time, he was extremely serious about her. They were constantly around each other, and her presence around Kevin somewhat annoyed Luna to a degree that Georgina usually ended up with a particularly spotty face if Kevin brought her out with them. Ginny found the entire situation highly amusing, much to Kevin and Luna’s annoyance. However, when Georgina finally split up with Kevin, under the grounds of him being too “clingy” (Ginny and Luna both scoffed at this-Georgina had been an outright pain in the arse where friends dinners were concerned), he was absolutely devastated, convinced he was never going to be able to find true love again. It was only a few months ago that Kevin had finally got over Georgina, and the two girls were immensely proud of him. Ginny, however, was shocked to hear that Kevin had been visiting fortune tellers. She had done two years living purely as a Muggle (an idea her father had suggested and had needed a pilot study. As his daughter, she was his unfortunate only choice). She had spent an entire holiday at a Muggle fun fair and thus, she understood the ways in which those pesky fortune tellers worked.
‘A Muggle one?’ Ginny asked.
Looking at her sheepishly, Kevin replied, ‘Yes, a Muggle one.’ Luna made a tsk noise at Ginny. Kevin continued, ‘It wasn’t about … Georgina, per se.’ Ginny raised her eyebrow. ‘No! It was about my job! But anyway, so instead of answering my questions about my job,’ he emphasised, ‘she rambles on about how I’ve already found my true love.’
Instead of berating him, Ginny chuckled. ‘Ouch,’ she said. ‘Deep. Very deep.’
Luna simply nodded her head. Kevin began to explain the exchange between him and the fortune teller. The two girls listened carefully. Apparently, the fortune teller was a little “everywhere” with her readings. Kevin announced his newfound knowledge of the date Tsar Nicholas II abdicated the throne in 1917, which the fortune teller had told him was “very important”. Ginny hadn’t any idea who the Tsar Nicholas was, and she kept her lips tight shut on the comment. As Kevin rambled more and more (“And she said I had to stay away from irons!”) Ginny began to glance continuously to the side and to the clock. The last time Kevin had been through a crisis that required both of the girls to drop whatever they were doing to come now, it had taken him thirty-five minutes. It was half past now, he had been going on for fifteen minutes!
‘And well, I haven’t already found my true love!’ he exclaimed. His face was pale, and a further look at him deduced that Kevin was truly and utterly perplexed. His hair was ruffled-generally a sign of confusion-and his nose was currently scrunched up, representing his acrimony at the fortune teller and her revelation.
Despite her laughter, Ginny felt a stab of empathy. He was her friend, but he had been very silly to listen to a fortune teller. ‘Maybe it’ll come and bite you unexpectedly in the arse.’
She stifled her giggles, and Kevin sighed, missing her point altogether. ‘Ginny, there’s the thing about me not believing in destiny and all that.’
‘Really?’ interrupted Luna. ‘But you’re a Ravenclaw!’
He sighed again. ‘Yes, where I fit in because of my logical mind,’ he said, stressing the word “logical”. Luna huffed. Kevin looked to Ginny in help.
‘Despite the Muggle jumbo, you need to get back in the game anyway,’ Ginny noted. ‘Otherwise you’re going to end up as one of them male-spinster types. You know, a male version of a cat woman.’ She laughed at her own little remark, only to look back at Kevin and Luna rolling their eyes together. Ginny snorted.
Kevin looked down at his hands. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not going to end up like one of those people.’ He turned his gaze up towards Ginny. ‘I’m not, am I?’ Luna shook her head miserably at his self-esteem. Ginny smiled at him.
‘Ergo,’ she said, her hands gesturing to her grand finale, ‘you need to get yourself a bird.’
Luna’s hand raised. ‘Yes! I hear parakeets are all the rang-’
‘Not one of those, Luna!’ Ginny said, her voice rising. ‘Get yourself a girl,’ Ginny enunciated. Luna tilted her head backwards to observe Kevin, ignoring Ginny. The two girls waited for a response-it was ten more minutes until Ginny’s hour was up. The redhead pursed her lips and looked at Kevin, waiting for a response.
Finally, he sighed, broke free of their hands and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I need to focus on my career, G, I can’t do that and look for another girl.’
Ginny was about to reply when a small beep sounded inside Kevin’s robes. His face contorted in worry and he pulled out a small, blue device that was currently vibrating and glowing with green hues. Luna thought it was quite pretty. Kevin, on the other hand, groaned at it and stood up. ‘Speaking of career. Gotta go, the boss is calling a meeting. Floo okay, Lu?’
Luna nodded, getting up to hug him goodbye. ‘Take care. Watch out for Gulping Plimpies. They’ll attack when you’re at your most vulnerable.’
‘G’bye,’ Ginny said, as he got up and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
‘See you later,’ Luna called out to him.
He nodded at both of the girls, and waved as he shouted his destination and disappeared from Luna’s home. As he left, Ginny looked at her watch. ‘I better be going soon, too, Luna.’ She rose and hugged her friend before choosing her method of transportation: Disapparation.
* * *
Dear Ron and Hermione,
As you requested: the weekly check-up. Things are fine here in England. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, and yes, I’m sure nothing unexpected and life-threatening will crop up soon, Hermione.
The family are doing well, Ron, but I thought the point of your holiday was so you two could spend some quality time with each other, without having to worry about everyone else you share oxygen with.
Still alive and not suffering from withdrawal symptoms,
Harry,
Also known as the best part of the so-called “golden trio”.
* * *
The Quidditch drive.
Ginny liked flying. It relaxed her and let her experience a medium that made her believe that she wasn’t Ginny Weasley, working in retail at a clothing store. A Muggle-style clothing store, because the manager, who was actually a witch, decided she liked the style of Muggle shops. No, in the air, she was just Ginny. She rather liked that. She flew freely, diving and simply spinning gracefully in the air. She closed her eyes. There was a large-a very large-difference to this poignant flying and her flying whilst playing Quidditch. The blond who was currently mounting his broom noticed this, and flew up towards her, eloquently matching her pace.
‘Ginny,’ he called.
Her eyes flew open, and she grinned at him. ‘Draco.’
‘Couple rounds with the Quaffle?’ he asked, gripping his broomstick tighter and swerving to stop just in front of her; he held the red ball in his left hand. Ginny pulled a face at him as she jutted her broom underneath him and began to ruthlessly scour around the pitch. Draco followed behind without a moment’s delay, deflecting the other flyers as they passed. She laughed at his attempts to follow her, glancing backwards every so often to see him quickly catching up.
‘QUAFFLE!’
Ginny turned around, looking up, and automatically held her hands out to stop the incoming object. Through this, however, she lost her grip on the broom-the Quaffle launched itself onto her chest and propelled her back. Predicting this would happen, Draco hurriedly flew towards her and caught her just as she manoeuvred her legs. The blond looked at Ginny whose legs were currently locked on her broomstick; she was dangling upside down, the Quaffle firmly in her hands.
‘Hi,’ she said, grinning.
He let out a sigh of relief, rolling the sleeves on his arms and placing his hands strategically on her shoulders. The little ringlets of hair that cascaded down gave him the image that she was on fire. He sniggered a little, tightening his hold on his broom as other people flew past them, slowing down to look at what had happened whilst giving odd looks at the duo. Draco shrugged his shoulders at them as he took a deep breath.
‘Right, how’re we going to do this?’ he said to her, hands still holding her up-albeit, pointlessly. She attempted a shrug herself, but only resulted in a little jerk of her broomstick. Draco’s own hands automatically tightened their hold on her. ‘All right,’ he said dryly, ‘let’s not do that again.’
‘Did you hear about Luna and Rolf?’ Ginny asked.
Draco raised his eyebrows. ‘Is it really the time to talk about these things?’
Ginny giggled. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she said. ‘If you could just hold the Quaffle,’ she held it out and he cautiously let go of her shoulders and took the red ball, ‘then I could swing up,’ she swung up, her hands attaching themselves to the other end of her broomstick, ‘and climb back on.’ She climbed back on. Draco swallowed.
‘Right!’ she said, catching her breath and sorting out her attire as best she could in the air. ‘I’m good, you?’ she asked, a little curious at his quietness.
‘No,’ he simply replied. He threw her the Quaffle.
She laughed at him. Then, putting the Quaffle under her arm, she slowly began to take the broom around in circles. Draco followed suit. Ginny looked at him slyly, and then flew down in front of him, her back to him.
‘Oh, well, um, I think they’re getting serious,’ she said. ‘Luna and Rolf.’
‘Right,’ Draco said, unsure of what to say.
‘She joined some nature society thing,’ Ginny replied, babbling. ‘Rolf Scamander, that is, by the way.’ She threw the Quaffle upwards and back at him and he caught it with one hand, rolling it into his body.
‘Ah, the nephew of Newt.’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘That’s the one.’ Ginny closed her eyes, and her broom began to swing gently from side-to-side. Draco looked awkwardly at her; this was very impractical! If she fell, really fell this time, then he’d feel absolutely awful. He gulped, and as he hurried forwards on his broom, leant forward to brush her arm. What Draco did not anticipate, however, was her yelping. Her eyes flew open. Draco yanked his arm back.
‘What are you doing?’ she said, dragging out her words.
‘I didn’t want you to fall,’ he responded, attempting to look completely unfazed. ‘And you would have, if your eyes were kept closed.’
‘How did you know my eyes were closed?’ she asked him curiously. She nodded towards the Quaffle as her broomstick edged backwards a little. Draco sighed a little at her preposition. She would just never stay; she always wanted to do something. Nonetheless, he backed away a little and then threw her the Quaffle.
‘Well?’ she prompted again, louder this time. She threw the ball back to him, and he flung it back towards her. With every throw and catch, the two players would go further away from each other. Draco noticed that the pitch seemed to be emptying of people; the only people left he could spot were below the two as they rose steadily higher and higher. A lock of blond hair fell in front of his face but the wind hitting him from all sides and he decided to simply not both put it back in place. Ginny’s own hair was currently tangled and she was having great trouble with attempting to give a well-aimed throw amidst the strewn hair.
‘I don’t know,’ he called in reply to her question.
‘Of course you do!’ she yelled back.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’ He made a large gesture, pointing downwards. ‘Do you want to call it a day?’
He saw her look down and nod. As one last go, she flew closer towards him-realising the Quaffle wasn’t really meant for long distances-and threw it. He caught it, losing his breath for a second or so whilst she shook her head, smiling, at his attempt. The two players then lowered themselves, eyes fixed on each other, as they landed on the green pitch. They didn’t say anything. Draco held the Quaffle under his arm, his broomstick in the other, as Ginny readied herself after landing; he paused, watching her, and she caught him. Her raised eyebrows met his stare. He blinked, looking away.
‘You know,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘this reminds me of the time we first met.’ She held up her broomstick, and gestured towards the exit. They began walking in the direction of a small, brown hut. A man on duty smiled at the two, nodding his head in acknowledgement as Draco passed him the Quaffle. Draco turned his attention back to Ginny, as they turned around and headed for the larger building.
‘The first time we met? Wasn’t that when you were like under a metre tall?’
Ginny shot him a look, Draco easily towered over her. He chuckled.
‘No,’ she said, relatively calm. ‘I mean properly. When I didn’t think you were some stupid div,’ she added cheekily.
‘Ah, so you don’t think I’m stupid now?’ he asked.
‘Let me rephrase,’ she said. ‘When I became tolerant of your stupidity.’ She winked at him.
‘Aw, now that’s a bit mean.’ There was a playful edge in his tone of voice.
She shrugged. ‘It was a weird day, that was,’ she responded, referring to the day they had met. ‘I threw coffee over you.’
‘I do recall.’
‘And here we are, flying together.’
‘Walking together,’ he corrected.
She ignored him. ‘You wouldn’t have thought, would you?’ And Draco became nervous at her forwardness. Was she implying something?
They reached the opening, the inside of the building had a magical barrier of some sort, there was no wall to separate it, just a charm, Ginny had been told, that allowed the good weather in, and the bad weather out. A couple passed them and they smiled sweetly at the two. Ginny laughed at the hint.
‘Err, no, I wouldn’t have,’ Draco replied, he had subtly ignored the smile.
‘Honestly, I’m glad we are though. You’re the only friend who ever has spare time to come flying with me. Everyone else doesn’t or is too busy.’
‘I’m glad you think of me that way,’ he said dryly.
Ginny shook her head at him playfully.
* * *
Dear Mr Rolf Scamander,
In regards to your previous welcome letter to the club, I thought I’d let you know that I’m thinking of walking up the Pennines in a couple of months. The plans haven’t been finalised yet, but it would be very nice if we could arrange a group-walk. Apparently there have been a few reports of hairy five-legged creatures that emit the most terrible sounds. I do believe the Muggles have caught a Furpy Twitterack pack.
Let me know as soon as possible,
Luna Lovegood
P.S. My father would like to say that the ginger biscuits on Saturday were divine, and he would like to pass on his compliments to the club cook.
* * *
Ginny and Draco plus hot chocolate.
They sat down on a small table facing each other. There was an café on one of the top floors of the Quidditch drive building, the windows served as observation points. Ginny sipped the cup of steaming hot chocolate. Her nose was pink, as was her ears, and her eyes held a little spark in them. Grinning, she said, ‘How’s my favourite Greengrass?’
On the other side, Draco had left his cup to cool down; the steam rising up in the air as he sat back to avoid it all. He was looking out of the glass-paned windows, watching another pair of flyers take off in the terrible weather. He turned back to look at Ginny. ‘Astoria?’
‘Yes, she,’ Ginny emphasised, ‘has a fabulous sense of fashion.’
Draco chuckled at her, and then began, ‘She’s …’ irritating, annoying, seems to believe there’s going to be something between us one day, ‘good.’ The corner of his mouth curled into a half-attempted smile. He placed his hands over the cup, checking its warmth, and finding it too hot for his liking, rested his hand back down on his knee.
‘That’s good,’ Ginny said after awhile.
‘How’s Ron?’ Draco asked soon after. Ginny pressed her lips together, as she contemplated the odd question. Then again, she had asked him about someone else. She took another sip.
‘He’s good,’ she replied.
‘That’s … good.’
Ginny nodded. Today, Lu, we had a very dull conversation, she thought. We talked about Rolf and Luna, and then Astoria Greengrass and Ron. Thinking back, Ginny thought of a moment when she and Draco went through a session when they had absolutely everything to talk about. From the weather, to Quidditch league tables, there was a time when they could think of anything to say and say it. Ginny didn’t know what was wrong with them, but all of a sudden, they were acting very strange towards each other. They were almost distant, but not, for there were recent times when they could stop non-stop about a specific subject. She could see that when Draco wouldn’t say something, he wanted to say something, and it was irritating her now. Then again, Ginny could apply the same problem to her. If she wanted to tell him something, she’d run it through her head several times before-if it made it past pick-apart stage-relaying it back to him. Her lost confidence in this aspect worried her much. She actually wanted to tell him something outrageous now, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Draco Malfoy had entered a new stage in their relationship; the problem being, she couldn’t figure out which.
‘So,’ she croaked out, forcing herself to speak, ‘how’s the love life?’ The moment the words left her lips, Ginny had to resist bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Did I just say that? A string of words were on a brain-marquee, as she attempted to pass the question as a completely and natural question. I hate you subconscious. I hate you subconscious. Her internal anguish and annoyance only proved that the stage Draco Malfoy had now entered was a red zone: dangerous. She didn’t want him anywhere near the red zone! It was far too complicated, and I’m his friend. A good friend, she added on mentally.
On the other hand, Draco seemed completely fazed at the how personal the query had been. Ginny’s heart gave way a little at his apathetic stare at her, as he said monotonously, ‘Inexistent.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well, same.’
‘The fact that your love life is nonexistent doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,’ he responded dryly, with a little smirk. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.
’I am not above blowing your family jewels off,’ Ginny warned him.
Draco made a hurt face, and then put his hands up in a mock-surrender, saying, ‘Yeah, that would hurt.’
Ginny pursed her lips, looking at the corner of the ceiling, then turned back around to face Draco and smirked at him. ’On second thoughts, Furnunculus doesn't seem too bad, either.’
* * *
Dennis Creevey is very horrible; very horrible, indeed.
Tracey stood, leaning against a beige-coloured wall, waiting for her father to come out of his staff meeting. There was a cactus in the corner, its prickly exterior spreading to the quiet atmosphere. Tracey slid down the wall and onto the floor, holding her knees to her chest as she waited for the meeting to end.
‘I’m meeting with the Greengrasses in South Africa, you can join me if you want.’ Her father had never been interested in her personal life, but Tracey figured he had heard about Theo through her mother. It was good timing, Tracey thought. She had not updated her mother on the Theo situation.
‘I’ll think about,’ Tracey had replied, and that had been the end of that. She was to give him her final answer after his staff-meeting, and she waited impatiently for him. As she ran her fingers across the carpeted floor, the door clicked open and the first of her father’s workers walked out. She stood up. Some had indignant expressions, and others walked and talked with others, paying her no attention. After dismissing the people who came through one by one as she observed the door, she missed the only one person who did pay her attention, and he folded his arms as he stopped in front of her whilst his friend stood beside him as the remaining people left the room.
‘Well, well, well,’ she heard a voice say. She focused her gaze on the man in front of her.
‘Creevey,’ she replied curtly, ‘has my father not sacked you yet for indecent exposure?’ she added sweetly, making reference to the office incident two Christmases ago. He kept his cool demeanour, and she looked over his shoulder to see if her father was coming out. Dennis shook his head at Tracey to the man beside him.
‘Do tell me, how’s Nott’s fidelity these days?’ Instantly, Dennis knew he had said the wrong thing. His arms dropped to his sides, as Tracey simultaneously dropped to the floor, inhabiting a sitting-up foetal position, much like she had before the end of the meeting. Dennis gulped. He hadn’t meant for his comment to come out like that! Well, he did, but that was besides the point. He could not get suspended for this, or, worse, fired. She had made a comment about a drunken incident! And yes, perhaps, against office gossip, it was a very insignificant thing compared to his boss’s daughter’s relationship, but he couldn’t help himself. She was too weak and so easy to wind-up.
‘Ignore him,’ Kevin said to her, dropping to the floor and putting his arm around her. Tracey sobbed loudly, and Dennis only raised his eyebrow at the unexpected contact. He rolled his eyes at the two as Tracey began to ramble on about Theodore Nott and Kevin looked horrified with worry about the situation. He had never had to deal with the hysterical daughter of his boss before! Dennis rolled his eyes, as Kevin hesitantly began to soothe her.
Leave, Dennis mouthed at him. Kevin violently shook his head. Tracey wailed.
‘No, no!’ Kevin said hurriedly. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t, um, cry over Nott! He’s a … he’s a bastard.’
She would have giggled if it were not for her snivelling. Astoria’s word came back to her, and Kevin only reiterated what the other girl had been telling her. Tracey choked up. ‘W-why are you being so nice to me?’ Tracey said to him. ‘I-I’m always horrible to you! I don’t deserve n-niceness.’
Kevin shrugged, as Dennis looked to the side fed-up, pointing to his watch. ‘You shouldn’t cry over Nott,’ he said carefully. ‘He’s simply not worth it.’ Dennis glanced back at the door, it was closed, and he knew that her father might come out anytime soon and find the three in an awkward situation. They had to go!
‘No,’ Dennis offered, gesturing dramatically to Kevin to go, ‘no cheating son-of-a-bitch is.’ He folded his arms again, and decided to lean against the white wall whilst waiting for Kevin to finish consoling her. Kevin shot him a look, as Tracey kept her head faced down as she continued to weep. This is getting bloody ridiculous, Dennis thought. He was obviously not meant for problems driven by female emotions. The three stayed there for several moments. Dennis was slowly counting the seconds; Kevin was stroking Tracey’s arm, and Tracey was calming herself down in the companionable silence.
‘M-my daddy wants to take me to South Africa,’ she said after awhile. ‘Do you think Nott might chase me there?’
Dennis rolled his eyes. Kevin heard the hope in her voice. ‘Um, no, no I don’t think he will,’ he replied, although he wasn’t particularly sure if this was the right thing to say as she immediately sobbed again (And she’d nearly stopped, Dennis grunted to himself) and more high-pitched. ‘I mean, I don’t think you should, ah, run away from your fears. Because, uh, that means … Nott has won. You have to, uh, suck it up and face it.’ Dennis’s face contorted in embarrassment. Of course, he may not have been meant for female, emotion-driven problems but he knew that you did not tell one to “suck it up and face it”. Fortunately, Tracey seemed to have ignored the crudeness of Kevin’s suggestion, and for that, Dennis was thankful.
Tracey scrunched her nose up in thought, and at the sound of a door opening, Dennis straightened his posture immediately. Kevin’s eyes widened as he saw her father emerge from the meeting room. The large man only looked at them awkwardly and hesitantly, although Dennis was perfectly sure that his boss could easily have them murdered. This is probably how he got so rich, Dennis thought, he has facades; he tricks people into thinking they’re not on his hit list and then they are. He wailed silently in his head: I’m going to die a young man! Tracey was still unaware of her father’s presence until Kevin patted her on the shoulder and got up from the floor, leaving her to sit alone.
‘Heh, nice talking to ya,’ he said to Tracey, although he was looking at her father. Dennis grinned sheepishly at his boss, and Kevin gave a weak smile before promptly leaving the two Davises alone on the corridor.
Noticing the large shadow, and the smell of cologne, Tracey rose and threw herself into her father’s arms. His arms lifted themselves up and he slowly patted her on the back, as she buried her wet face into the crook of his neck. ‘Daddy,’ she said. After receiving no response, she uncurled her arms and then stepped back and looked at him. Her pretty face was covered in red splotches.
‘Tracey.’ He coughed. ‘Have you, err, thought any more of the expedition?’
She took a deep breathe. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘And I, um.’ She paused, looking worried about her next response, but then something washed over her face, her eyes widened in gladness. ‘I say no. I have to face Nott. Suck it up and face it,’ she added more confidently.
He grunted. He pursed his lips, and the upper corner of his lip raised as he wondered what to say. He looked at his daughter and then said, ‘Very well.’ Tracey grinned at him. ‘Anything else I can be of service to?’
Tracey pressed her lips together. ‘A Hit Wizard might come in handy,’ she grumbled. ‘If Theo is still very horrible to me.’
Then she laughed with her father and his lips curled into a smile with her.
( amor inter nos est 2/3 )
( amor inter nos est 3/3 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
What would you like to receive?
The tone/mood of the fic: I am obsessed with fluff, so the ending at least has to be rainbow and unicorns and all cute and happy, but I'm completely down with angst or death or anything else you want in the body of the fic. And a little bit of humor thrown in wouldn't be bad either.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Have you ever seen Love Actually? I'm not saying that any of the lines or characters or anything need to be incorporated into the fic, but the whole idea and style and tone of that movie to be transferred to a D/G fic would be awesome.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: PG-13 and under
Canon or AU? Either is fine
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): A fic that shows Harry in a really bad light, PWP, rape and bestiality and incest and all that jazz