Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Three's Company ❯ Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

The week went by quickly, and all too soon, Saturday had arrived. I awoke to the thump of something hard hitting my floor, and sat up to see what it was. A small pile of presents had appeared at the foot of my bed, and most of them were on the floor. I swore and picked them up. "Y'all didn't have to send me anything," I muttered, glad my friends had remembered all the same.

 

I missed them. They'd been so good to me. Father had left me there when I was but ten, and hadn't been able to retrieve me. He'd said it was only temporary, that he was helping the humans (and I think, looking for Mother's killer). But something had happened, and he hadn't returned, even after the Hogwarts owl had arrived on my eleventh birthday - Dumbledore's note inside, though, warned me not to come just yet, that he'd fetch me when it was time. I'd been crushed, but understood that Father had more important things to do than collect his hindrance of a daughter from the safest place on the planet. If ever anyone needs a sanctuary, fly to Tintagel. It was the best place anyone could hope for.

 

They sent me small knick-knacks, mostly homemade gifts that I treasured the most. They didn't have much money there, seeing as Cornwall was a fairly poor district, but they managed to scrape by. They'd tried so hard to forgive me, to not hate me for why I'd left. Of course, they had no idea what I was, only that I was a latent witch, and more powerful than all of them. Yes, there is an orphanage for wizards! Amazing, no? I told them everything, my foster siblings, but I'd told them nothing of this. Some of them had hated me for it when I'd left, and this was their way of making it up. For me, though, they'd been forgiven a long time ago. I smiled sadly, placing all of the treasured gifts on the nightstand, as few as there were, and gazed at my diminished pile.

 

Hermione and Ginny, though they knew little of me, gave me trinkets as well, things to help me get by. Harry, in all his inventiveness, gave me a compass that pointed to whatever I asked of it. In the letter, he said he'd made it himself. I appreciated the thought, and hoped to use it well. At the bottom of the pile, there was a lumpy package, hastily wrapped, and with no scrawl other than my tidy name in emerald green on the paper.

 

I pulled it open, hardly daring to breathe at what I saw. A pair of kidskin gloves. I'd always wanted them, always wanted a chance to prove that I wasn't just a half-breed piece of cat shit unworthy to tread the ground the humans walked on. And now I had a pair. Who would've known? Who could've known? Not even my own father knew of my wishes, though he certainly tried hard enough to get in my head. And for what reason?

 

I sighed and shook my head, pulling the gloves on one by one, treasuring the warmth they provided. Not even my fur could keep my hands this warm, this safe. Again, I wondered who'd given them to me, who'd known, but I pushed the thought aside. I had a d - an appointment with Weasley, and breakfast was getting cold. I pulled on my charcoal cloak - yes, cloak. There's a difference, you know, between a cloak and a coat. The main one? A coat has sleeves. Most of the children I'd seen around Hogwarts wore long coats, not the traditional cloaks worn by magic users of the earlier centuries. But enough of that. I strode down the stairs, barely stopping to wish the general common room a happy Samhain and register the confused looks before leaving. I needed food. My heart was beginning to hurt, and I needed food.

 

Whenever I thought about the past, whenever I began to remember who I was, where I came from, my family and friends, any of that, my heart hurt. Physically hurt. Like there was a knife embedded in there, just waiting to be twisted with the memories of my life before. What - and who - I'd left behind. I loved them all dearly, but it'd been for their own safety that I'd left. I held onto that thought, the pain abating somewhat. Think of something else, I told myself. Think of what you're going to do with Weasley today. What he plans on doing. And with that mantra ringing through my mind, I skipped through the school to the Hall for breakfast, and my official birthday began.

 

The beautiful thing about being born on Samhain is that everyone celebrates. And for an insecure child like me - no matter how proud I am - it's the best birthday present ever. Not many people dressed up at Hogwarts, but then, I guess Hogsmede was the only real celebration they got. C'est la vie. We used to run around for hours in our homemade faerie costumes back at Tintagel, hiding in the secret passages and scampering around Jenna's feet as she cooked and cleaned and pretended to chase us. It was the only night of the year she gave us free reign of the place willingly. Not that we didn't explore the mythical castle anyway, but it wasn't much fun to be caught in the middle of an epic battle between King Arthur and Morgaine and sent off to bed.

 

Treating this day like any other, though what I had planned to do, seemed almost impossible. The entire school was in an uproar - this was Halloween, and the first Hogsmede trip of the year. People were excited, and that was not a good thing, here.

 

From what I had gleaned from the talk in the common room, Hogsmede was the tiny village a few km away that the school allowed the older students to visit every once in a while. It wasn't much, but at least it was better than being stuck in the castle all the time. And believe you me, being stuck in castles is not always fun.

 

The Golden Trio plus three gingers glanced up as I sat down. “Morning Dughan!” They all chorused. At least it wasn't “happy birthday”. Perish the thought, before one of them catches it.

 

“Morning,” I replied wearily. Hardly any sleep was not my idea of a good birthday. I'd stayed up late wandering the grounds again. Lost track of time, and fell into bed exhausted about three hours before sunrise. I downed my breakfast in record time, trying to stave off my body's demand for more sleep. Finally the food began to take hold, and I could stave off the sandman for a good twelve hours. I'd pay for it when I fell asleep that night, but tomorrow was Sunday. I could afford to skip a few hours' homework.

 

“Did you sleep alright?” Fred asked at my apparent lack of enthusiasm.

 

“No,” came the honest answer around a strip of bacon. I chewed, swallowed, and continued. “Couldn't sleep.”

 

“Out again?” he asked, referring to my `flights'.

 

“You could say that.”

 

“You were out after hours?” Hermione hissed.

 

“You didn't get caught?” Harry interrupted with a grin. “How?”

 

I gave him a droll look. “I grew up in a castle, Harry. I should think it'd be obvious.”

 

George laughed. “And the fact that you're an anima-“

 

I cut in. “Animal enthusiast, George. Hagrid enjoys my company every now and again.” Well he did! Just because I wasn't human when I visited… George just shook his head, grinning. “Anyone excited about today?” So my conversation skills were a bit lacking. Leave off.

 

“You should be!” Ginny elbowed me in the ribs. “It is your birthday after all.”

 

I laughed. “Shh! The Slytherins could cast a curse with that!” Well, none of them had that sort of power, but it did make everyone chuckle.

 

We rose for the exit as one, and made our way to Filch to be checked off. Ginny split off to ride in a carriage with her current boyfriend - Harry flinched a bit at that one, but I let it pass, seeing as he could sort her out on his own - so the rest of us claimed a carriage for ourselves. I drew a few dead rats from my pocket for the Thestrals - got some weird looks for it, too, feeding rats to the air - but we seemed to travel faster for it, so none complained.

 

Once in the town, the twins split off on their own adventure, and I tagged along with the Trio. They were obliging, giving me the shilling tour of the place. Neat little town, Hogsmede. Reminded me a little of the Caravan's wintering spot in Romania, all hustle and bustle. I'd only been there a few times, mainly to visit my granddam, but it was always so much fun. I knew that's where I wanted to be, once I settled down.

 

At noon, we found ourselves outside a pub. So this is what he was talking about, I thought, eyes locked on the swinging wooden “Three Broomsticks” sign. Without further ado, the four of us strode inside, immediately enveloped in warmth and the scent of what I would later learn to term Butterbeer. Fred and George hailed us from a table in the back, and I settled with my back against the wall, easily able to see everyone - and my potential flight paths, should misfortune suddenly befall me. Not likely, here, but one never knew.

 

“And our special guest arrives! Everyone, please welcome the birthday girl!” Fred's magically amplified voice echoed around the suddenly silent room. I let slip a soft curse. I knew he'd pull something like this. As if to make it worse, not only did I have the grace to blush, but a blinding purple light started to shine from my chair. “She's seventeen today!”

 

As one, the bar started to sing the traditional song for these parts. Something to do with repeating the phrase over and over again to a dinky tune. When the coward in me started screaming to run away, though, my pride kicked in. I knew something like this was coming, and by the gods, I'd stick it out. I could glare all I liked, but no igniting things today. I didn't want to start a record on my birthday as the shortest-lived Shifter in history.

 

My blush faded soon after the song did, and my first taste of Butterbeer was in a toast to losing tracers. And gods, was it good. Not as palatable as other delicatessen I've tasted, but for wizards' brew it was damned good. We sat around the table for a good long while chatting - well, mostly listening on my part. Inevitably, life crept back in, and people started dissipating. Everyone had shopping to get done, anyhow. Soon, Fred and I were the only ones left.

 

“Hey, Dughan,” Fred said, scooting along the bench to perch next to me. “Happy birthday.”

 

“Thanks, Weasley,” I replied sincerely. Today hadn't been that bad. But it was only half over. And knowing my luck, it'd only get worse from here.

 

Fred put down his butterbeer and turned to me. “Look, Dughan. I want you to go out with me. Really go out with me,” he clarified as I raised an eyebrow.

 

“Look, Weasley,” I returned loftily. “We'd never work out. I—”

 

His hand slid through my hair and pulled me close, effectively silencing my protests with a kiss so deep I melted. It's not that I hadn't ever been with a bloke. It was just that the fellas I had been with were much less skilled with their tongues. “Go out with me,” Fred murmured against my lips.

 

I sighed heavily. “When you put it that way…” His eyes lit up, and I smiled. “No.”

 

“Do I have to convince you further?” His customary smirk had returned, though his mouth was still quite active against mine, and around it.

 

“You could try.” I wasn't against being snogged in public, especially with him. Good thing we were in the back of the pub.

 

“One date. Come on, Dughan. Then you can go back to hating me all you want.” His tongue was working its way up my jaw.

 

“Weasley, I told you. We'd kill each other.”

 

“We're not now, are we?” His breath was hot on my ear. He lipped at the lobe and tugged gently on the earring he found there. With his teeth. “One date.”

 

“Now?” Damn, he was convincing.

 

He smiled triumphantly and pulled away, dropping one last peck on my lips. “No, birdbrain, next month. Of course now.” He took my glove-encased hand and led me out into the chilly October air.

 

We ended up wandering the town for a good long while. He took me into Zonko's Joke Shoppe, of all places. Apparently it was his favorite store, but he showed quite the restraint as he led me around, never once dropping my hand. No complaints here. It was pretty funny watching him try to maneuver around the packed shop, pointing out things he thought I'd like - and he was more often right than wrong. We entered a few other places, but nothing too fancy. And we stayed well away from his threat of “Puddifoot's” from the other night.

 

Eventually we ended up on the outskirts of the town, and Fred pressed a finger to my lips as we walked inside. Not that I needed the reminder - or the distraction. Animals were sleeping everywhere. The witch that presumably owned the place waved us over behind the counter. I could feel the slight difference in the air, and realized she'd set up a silence spell around the register so as not to wake her charges. “Welcome to our humble abode,” she greeted with a smile. “How can I help the two of you?”

 

Fred spread his mouth in that customary lopsided grin of his. “We're looking for a pet…” He trailed off, glancing my way. “Aren't you?”

 

I laughed. “Well, I hadn't really thought about it.”

 

“Then yes. Pick one, Red. Whichever one you want. It's her birthday, you see.” The witch was absolutely charmed, hook, line, and sinker.

 

I, however, wasn't. “Don't call me Red.” I slipped my hand from his and turned toward the animals now crowding around us. There were so many!

 

A litter of kittens were sprawled on a pet bed, their mother having too much fun pestering me. I crept toward them, the grey tabby of the lot sticking out. She mewed plaintively, opened her big blue eyes, and demanded that I take her home. Actually, it was more of a `You. Worship me. I'll be good for you. Just get me out of this dump.' As if she were hypnotizing me. On any other human, it might have worked. Kitten eyes, you see, are much more effective than those `puppy eyes' everyone keeps talking about. Yep. I was hers.

 

I snatched her from the bed before she could get distracted by her romping siblings and cuddled her close to my chest. “This one,” I said, turning back to the witch at the counter.

 

Fred just laughed. “Told you,” he muttered to the witch. “How much?”

 

I pulled out my changepurse and counted out a few coins with one hand, the other too busy making sure the kitten didn't fall off my shoulder. She was going to be trouble, this one. Devil cat. I held them out to the witch, who then immediately glanced to Fred.

 

“Happy birthday,” Fred told me, ever-so-politely dumping my coins back in the pouch. He paid her in the blink of an eye, and when I'd blinked again, we were outside, the kitten curled up against my throat. “Red.” The mischievous grin was back. Jerk.

 

“Don't call me that,” I said darkly, earning a mewling kitten for my troubles. Dai-dein had called me that. Nobody else was allowed to, `til he came back. “But thank you, Weasley. Today was…enjoyable.”

 

“That's it? Enjoyable?” He laughed, swooping in to kiss me again. I swear that boy enjoyed every startled look I gave him. “Better?”

 

“Loads,” I told him dryly, too proud to be more honest. Inside, though, I was flying. Fred Weasley was actually being more than civil, at least for tonight!

 

He must have thought I was funny, because he wouldn't stop chuckling as he slid his fingers through mine and led me back to the carriages.

 

~*~