Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Three's Company ❯ Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

The weeks went by, slowly, but with few mishaps. Umbridge had called in her detentions, but I'd been mysteriously ill all three days, and we'd had to reschedule. She reminded me of Scrooge when she'd "Hem hem"-ed her way to my sickbed in the infirmary. She'd told me that if I didn't get my act together, I'd have an even worse punishment, and I told her where she could shove it, in more polite terms, of course. I might hate her, but I'm not stupid.

 

"Professor," I'd said in the sweetest, most hospitable voice I could muster, "I can't help it if I'm sick. It's just happenstance it just happened to be on detention days." She'd had nothing to say to me after that, only told me we'd be talking. Right, like I'd actually voluntarily speak with the toad.

 

About a week before Halloween, I walked into the common room to see everyone gathered for a bit of fun. A party, I thought, and I hadn't been invited. Typical. My eyes wandered around the room, finally settling on Ginny and Hermione, two of the only people in my house that didn't hate me. For the moment, anyway. I made my way across the room to them, slipping between people like water where they were too thick. I'm not sure if my body actually Shifted or not, but it sure seemed like it at the time.

 

As I made my way across the room, though, I made the mistake of glancing at Fred Weasley. His eyes locked with mine, as if he were waiting all this time to catch them, and he held up a small gold piece. He dipped his head, as if in thanks, smirked, and turned away. Strange, I thought, a bit confused. What was that for? I shook myself from my daze, and continued on toward the girls.

 

"What's this party for, anyway?" I asked them once I reached the two.

 

"McGonagall's thwarting Umbridge again," Ginny answered with a grin. "She's giving out extra points for the slightest tasks."

 

"Wow. And she merits a party for that?"

 

"Jeez, Dughan, you'd think you weren't a Gryffindor, with your unfortunate lacking of the party spirit," someone said from behind me. I barely restrained myself from throwing an elbow and catching him where the sun didn't shine.

 

"Jeez, Weasley, you haven't seen me get started, have you?" I excused myself from Hermione and Ginny and dashed upstairs, not even throwing a glance Weasley's way.

 

They probably thought he'd upset me, seeing as I had a very moody personality then. Quite the contrary. In fact, just as they were about to send Hermione up to check on me, I dashed back down the stairs, wires draping around my neck.

 

"What are you doing, Amaris?" Hermione asked after I almost (accidentally, mind you) plowed her over on my way down.

 

"What's a party without music?" I asked the now-silent common room.

 

A cheer was raised, and soon American rock poured through the magic-ified speakers from the little metallic blue iPlod sitting atop them. I grinned at their congratulations on my inventiveness, and slipped over to settle across the room.

 

Hermione, Ginny, and I talked for a while, but none of us were particularly interested in the conversation. And I had an investigation to run.

 

"I'll be back later," I said, out of the blue.

 

"Where you heading?" Ginny asked.

 

"I need to talk to your brother for a minute."

 

"Alright. Just don't kill his ego."

"I won't. That'd be too easy." Both girls were giggling as I left them.

 

I walked across the common room, stopping to talk to someone I recognized every now and again. I didn't want to seem too eager to chew the boy out. Didn't want to be too eager to approach them at all, come to think of it. But soon I could delay it no longer. Lee Jordan nodded in my general direction, and all three shut up to turn around.

 

"Weasleys, Jordan," I greeted, nodding my head to each of them.

 

"What do you want, Dughan?" George asked, seemingly disgusted by my very presence.

 

"Certainly not either of you," I shot back, temper rising already. This wasn't going to be a very pretty conversation.

 

"Like we'd even consider you?" George's smirk was despicable. The only person in the school who could rival it was Draco Malfoy, and I wasn't particularly keen on him in the first place.

 

"Why are you here, Dughan?" Lee Jordan asked.

 

"Not for either of you," I said again, drawing my eyebrows together in disgust. I turned to Fred and crossed my arms over my chest. "I want my cut."

 

"Sorry, I don't harm children, as a rule." The retort was sadly lacking, but he's a boy. What more would you expect?

 

"Seeing as there's only six months between us, Weasley, what does that make you?"

 

"Older than you."

 

I shook my head in disgust. "I want my cut," I repeated.

 

"From what?"

 

"The gold you flashed me when I came in. I know you bet on me, and I want my cut."

"Why would you get any of it?" His smirk was even worse than his brothers. I felt something hit, and it almost knocked the breath out of me. I only realized later that it was my heart beating way too fast for its own good.

 

"Commission," I said simply. At his raised eyebrow, I elaborated. "I won your bet for you, didn't I?"

"Fine." He dug in his pocket, and pulled out a single bronze knut. "That's your commission. Don't spend it all in one place."

I examined it closely, turned it over and over in my palm, felt the weight, and, unbeknownst to the rest of them, its magical properties. "I'm not so sure I can, Weasley."

"What do you mean?" he asked. His eyes widened just a bit, and I knew he knew I knew something.

 

"It's set to disappear soon, isn't it? Leprechauns' gold is like that, I hear."

"Isn't gold," he said unconvincingly.

 

"Still, Leprechauns make anything look like gold, don't they?" It was my turn to smirk.

 

I was counting the seconds in my head, and held up the knut. With the fingers on my other hand, I counted down the seconds. As soon as I made a fist, the knut disappeared, as did the gold in his pocket.

 

He swore, digging around in his pocket for any of the gold he'd had only moments before. Instead of yelling at me, he whirled on his brother. "Why did you give me ALL the accursed gold?" he demanded.

 

"Good idea at the time," they both said, only beats apart.

 

Fred swore again, and turned back to me. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited, staring at me.

 

"What?" I asked, feeling a bit weird.

 

"Just thinking."

My eyes widened in false shock. "Don't blow your brains. I can already see the steam."

 

"Shut up."

 

"Why should I?"

 

"If you don't, I'll force you to investigate Madam Puddifoot's on your birthday."

 

"How'd you know about that?" I demanded, the shock threading through my voice. And what was Puddifoot's?

"Ginny," George supplied.

 

I shook my head. "Why oh why did she betray me?"

 

"Quit with the melodramatics," Fred muttered distractedly.

 

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" I asked, a stupid grin plastered on my face at the thought of annoying him.

 

"How best to torment you."

 

"Thanks," I drawled.

 

"Broomsticks at twelve," he said finally.

 

"What?" I asked, completely bewildered.

 

"The Three Broomsticks, twelve o'clock sharp."

 

"What's the Three Broomsticks?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

 

"Why?"

 

"Just be there."

 

"What? Going to embarrass me or something?"

 

"Perhaps. You'll have to be there to find out."

 

"Whatever."

 

I turned and left, making my way up to my room in the most annoyed posture this form was capable of. If I'd really wanted to show my annoyance, I would've taken a shit on his shoe, but since I didn't want to reveal what I was, I merely contented myself with fantasies.

 

I shut the door quietly and placed a sixth-year locking charm on it. I knew my visitor would come tonight, and I didn't want her to think that I was more advanced than she already thought I was. The window spell, though, was one that no human could ever dream of breaking.

 

A great horned owl tossed herself from my window and flew into the night, shrieks of elation following her soaring form. She flew higher and higher, diving and swooping, not caring about the food that was scattered for the pickings. Fred Weasley had asked - no, demanded - me to meet him. That counted as a date, right?

 

Alright, let's get this straight. It's not that I liked Weasley. Quite the contrary, in fact. I despised his guts. But for a girl so low on the totem pole, getting asked on a birthday whatever by one of the jerks that constantly tormented me was taking a huge leap toward getting into their ranks. I felt so alone there, so estranged, and to be accepted as one of them by him was amazing indeed.

 

I continued along that line of thought for a long time. After a while, though, my wings grew tired, my swoops less erratic, my screeches less ecstatic, and I swooped into my bedroom window. I'd noticed a slight sound difference in the room, but thought nothing of it as I landed and Shifted back.

 

The note on my bed was where I always found it, and, as always, I waved my wand at it. It hovered in front of me as I guided it out the window to read it.

 

Your window needs fixing

 

"Really?" I wondered aloud, even as it exploded in a shower of sparks. "It's getting old, Angelina." I removed the lock on my window and closed it, locking it in place with the single latch on the sill, and walked back to my bed. I flopped on it and closed my eyes, lying spread eagle with not a care in the world.

 

That is, until I noticed an extra set of lungs in the room. I swore, loud and long, as I sat up and knocked faces with my newest stalker.

 

"Boo," he said, rubbing his cheekbone where my forehead had connected.

 

"Damnit, Fred, don't do that!" I hissed, not even thinking about my choice of words.

 

"Merlin, Dughan, no wonder you're so stubborn. Your head is harder than a goddamn anvil!" He didn't seem to notice.

 

"What're you doing here?" I demanded angrily, ignoring the jab.

 

"Waiting for you. Why else would I be in your room?"

 

I smirked. "I can think of a few-Ow..." I rubbed my lip where my canine had hit it. "That hurt..."

 

"What?" He seemed genuinely concerned. But then, he was a Weasley, and anything but concerned.

 

"You made me bite my lip, damnit."

 

He pulled my fingers from my lip, where the blood was still pumping, albeit slowly, from the wound. "Here." And without any further warning, his lips pressed against mine.

 

I melted instantly. There was no concept too large as resistance. It was futile. The next thing I knew, I was again on my back with him on top of me, my fingers in his hair, his everywhere at once. When he finally pulled away, I was breathing heavily, and lip hurting just as much as it had before. He flopped down beside me, one arm flung across my stomach as if to make sure I was real. But mayhap it was just me, and he wanted to taunt me as much as possible.

 

"That help any?" he asked with a grin.

 

"Yeah," I lied.

 

"Right," he said. "You're still favoring it."

 

"Jerk."

 

His grin flipped to a smirk. "You know it."

 

I barely resisted kicking him in his engorged balls. "Go to hell."

"And miss Halloween? Hah."

 

"What's so big about Halloween?" I asked, knowing full well, but wondering if he did.

 

"Your birthday, idiot. How could you have forgotten?"

"Why do you care?"

"It's your seventeenth. You should be among friends to celebrate."

 

"Celebrate what?" And friends? I added silently.

"The removal of your trace. Don't you know anything?"

"Never had one," I said. "What's it do?"

"Of course you have one. It helps the ministry keep track of the young wizards and witches running around underage."

"Right. 'Cause they all knew where to find me." The ministry - but for Umbridge - had no idea I even existed.

 

"They sure did."

"You just keep telling yourself that."

 

"So you'll be there, right?" he asked, seemingly sincere.

 

"At the Three Broomsticks? Whatever that is? Perhaps."

 

"See you Saturday, then." With that, he strode out the door.

 

I blinked, my hand to my mouth. It was only at that moment that I realized two things: first, that my lip had indeed stopped hurting. Second, my archrival actually kissed me.

 

~*~