too close to the stars - H.J.P

Chapter Fifty Three

Noel didn't come out all day until they had to leave for the Burrow. Treading down the stairs, not wearing one of her usual statement pieces, she dragged down her bags sluggishly, ignoring Theo and her dad who were looking at her worriedly.

Arriving to the Weasley's wasn't much of a hassle as it was during the summer because this time the kids wouldn't be staying there for more than a week, they're only going to be there for two nights at the most.

Noel masked her foul mood with warm smiles and intangible laughter. They were only graced to hear a genuine laugh when she and Hades were reunited.

On Christmas Eve, the Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Noel silently thought that the angel on top of the tree was one of the ugliest things she had seen.

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny and Theo. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Noel was staring blankly at the wall where she sat next to Remus who was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina's voice.

Noel had been so far away that she hadn't heard one bit of the conversation Harry was having with Remus and Mr Weasley. Her attention only came back slightly when Mr Weasley had leapt to his feet, offering if anyone wanted eggnog. What Noel really wanted was to sleep and maybe drown her sorrows in alcohol, which with a slight jolt she realized she could now.

Noel stood up, grabbing their attention but she quickly followed Mr Weasley.

"Mr Weasley?"

Arthur jumped a little, "Oh, would you like some Noel?" He asked, pulling out a cup, but Noel said no before he poured any, "I, um, do you have any alcohol?"

He looked slightly startled at the question, "Er–"

"I'm 17, and I really need a drink, so..."

"Right, top cupboard, on your left." Mr Weasley turned away from her. Noel pulled the bottle out and poured some into a cup, hesitating as she drowned the cup of firewhiskey, grimacing slightly and pouring herself another one, thoroughly ignoring Mr Weasley who was watching from the corner of his eye.

Noel bit the inside of her cheek and knocked back her second drink, Noel put the bottle away, turned to Mr Weasley once more, "Every once in a while everyone needs a pick me up." She shrugged and walked back out.

Sitting back down, she leaned back on the couch, this time fully aware of the conversations that were taking place. "Who's Greyback?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Remus's hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children...Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results." Remus paused and then said, "It was Greyback who bit me."

"What?" said Harry, astonished. "When — when you were a kid, you mean?"

"Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."