training
February 18th, 1996
THE QUIET DINNER turned into a somewhat-tense meeting because Daisy had timidly, hesitantly, and cautiously wondered if, by any far and distant chance, there was perhaps a way for her and maybe... Just maybe, Sirius, could escape the house and, say, bask in the warmth of the sun in the nearby neighbourhood park, like, once a week.
Or once every two week.
Even once a month would be nice.
Sirius' eyes were immediately filled with awe, respect, and gratitude towards her. He never even thought of asking.
"Of course not!"
"It's too risky, isn't it?"
"There would be ground rules, of course—"
"Like what? Staying in his animagus form, wearing disguise, stay low profile?"
"You forgot about Peter Pettigrew, didn't you? You forgot there's someone within You-Know-Who's ranks who knew everything about Sirius and Daisy?"
"Look, You-Know-Who won't act so rashly, since the Ministry is still too busy trying to deny his return."
"As long as Daisy and Sirius stayed within the perimeter—"
Daisy and Sirius sat side by side like two hopeful kids, watching their parents (the Weasley parents, Remus, and Tonks) bickered away, waiting for the final decision to be called.
It led on until nearly ten, which was the time for an Order meeting, and as members started to arrive one by one, they began to pitch in their opinion as well.
"What's this?" Moody asked in his signature gruff voice when he entered the room.
"Hello, Moody," Daisy greeted politely.
"Hey," Sirius added with a raise of his eyebrows.
"Oi, our senior Auror's here! Tell 'em, Mad-Eye, professionally speaking," Mundungus friendly patted the man with glass eye's shoulder, "Sirius and Daisy should be able to go out ev'ry once in a while, innit? Mean, they might die without some fresh air and proper sunlight."
Moody just grumbled and walked towards the empty seat right next to Daisy's, his cane made a rhytmic clacking sound alongside every step he took.
"Silence means yes, people. Yes!" Mundungus exclaimed, returning to his post next to Kingsley.
"I'm real sorry, don't mean to be condescending or discriminative or anything..." someone quipped, "But let's be real and logical here. As a Muggle, Daisy won't be able to duel anyone if such event occurs."
"Black can—"
"Black should focus on his wagging tail, too, not just his ward."
Hagrid appeared, looking like he had to fight through thick, thorny bushes to get there. The attention was briefly turned towards his marred appearance, until Mundungus asked him the same question he asked Moody earlier.
Slowly but surely, with every word thrown across the room, the girl of the hour began to pick out one particular, continuously repeated phrase: protect.
Daisy had to be protected. She needed protection.
And she couldn't exactly argue that she could manage to protect herself, because truth be told, she knew she couldn't.
So she just hung her head low... wallowed in self-pity for just ten seconds, and decided that she shouldn't stay helpless. Not anymore. Not when she's in a room full of heroes preparing for war.
"Dais."
"Huh?" Daisy snapped out of her trance, "Yes, sorry?"
Mrs. Weasley planted a palm on her back and twirled her towards the ajar door, "Say hello, dear, this is Dumbledore."
Professor Dumbledore was... everything she had imagined. Of course she was familiar with his signature Merlin white beard and half-moon glasses, as shown in the Weasley boys' collection of Chocolate Frog cards. But his presence brought about an unfamiliar vibe. He seemed... like an intersection between carefree and sagacious. Not unfriendly, yet too intimidating to be called approachable.
"Ah, Daisy Jane! Finally we get to meet in person and not just through words."
Daisy turned pink when she realized that she had been staring at him. "How rude of me. Professor Dumbledore, nice to finally meet you, too."
"I suppose the headquarter's been treating you well?"
"Definitely."
"Good, good!"
"We'll resume the discussion after the meeting," Mrs. Weasley announced, eyeing Mundungus and Tonks in particular, who looked like they were ready to fire the question away.
"Okay then," Daisy said and curtly bowed to excuse herself, "I'll be in my room upstairs."
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
February 19th, 1996
FRED AND DAISY had agreed to make time every night at 9 to write to each other, and any contact aside from that time should be replied to only if the circumstances allowed.
No one, except from George, should know.
As long as this little secret of them harmed no one, not even Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley should know.
Daisy knew that Fred would be in class or surrounded by his classmates throughout the day, so she never instigated a midday talk.
Fred, on the other hand, knew that she was basically a jobless bum, so he would sneak a random sentence or two when no one was looking.
That particular Tuesday, though, Fred's magical parchment lit up in the middle of free period —which he was spending with George in the library, looking for the ingredient for their next invention.
Fred, you there?
"What's that?" George said, noticing the appearing ink first. "Oh, is that the secret parchment?"
Fred shushed him while nodding.
"Say hi to her from me," George continued in a whisper.
With a big smirk plastered on his face, Fred wrote.
Hello, what a lovely surprise!
George said hi.
The reply came in very quickly.
Hi, George!
I have some arbitrary news for you two.
Fred jotted down with a frown, What is it?
First, I'm going to train with Sirius and Tonks.
He looked up from the parchment and exchanged a quizzical look with George, who also read the sentence.
"Train? Train what?"
Physical training. Like, self-defense and strength exercises.
Actually, I'm a little doubtful with Sirius —he offered to help when he heard me asking this morning. Tonks said she would come over frequently to help and that she had some Auror training footages that could help.
"What?!" Fred hissed incredulously, reading his sentence out loud, "Who are you? What have you done to our best friend?"
Very surprising, isn't it?
George took over the quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote in Fred's stead: Of course! You and physical activity —What in the world happened?!
The twins waited patiently as words poured out of the parchment.
I just noticed a trend in others' conversations, in which they all feel compelled, even obliged, to 'protect' me.
How can Sirius 'protect' us both when he can't even multitask on house chores? He might end up dying while 'protecting' me. I can't let that happen.
I should be able to protect myself, shouldn't I? Who knows what kind of situation I'll find myself in, right?
The twins exchanged meaningful glances.
Yes, we suppose so.
Just don't push yourself too hard, alright? Don't overdo anything.
Fred pulled the parchment over to his side of the table.
Don't you feel small, hearing that you need protection. It's just
He hadn't finished writing when blobs of letters resurfaced.
It's just the way it is.
Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses, and we complement each other. I remember it, Fred.
How do you know it's not George?
I just know! Thank you, really.
Oh, and second news: the Order's letting me and Sirius go out of the house occasionally! Mrs. Weasley gave us our first pass at the end of next month. I can't wait to step out under the sun once more.
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
February 26th, 1996
RON HAD CHOSEN the perfect word to describe that day's Quidditch practice.
A nightmare.
The four Weasley siblings came to dinner that day with the youngest two drenched in mud and looking incredibly disgruntled.
Harry, dying to divert his conversation with Hermione as far away as he could from his disastrous Valentine's date (in which he couldn't read Cho's signs of jealousy and bombed their budding relationship when he chose to meet Hermione as promised by lunch, where the two had a meeting full of threats with Rita Skeeter —yes, Rita Skeeter the ladybug reporter, for her to write an article about Voldemort's return last June from Harry's perspective), said to Ron, "Oh come on."
Hermione added, looking at Ginny, "I'm sure it wasn't that—"
"Yes, it was," said Ginny. "It was appalling. Angelina was nearly in tears by the end of it."
When the two of them ran off for baths after dinner, the Weasley twins edged closer to Harry and Hermione.
"We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."
"Come on, Ginny's not bad," said George fairly, "Actually, I dunno how she got so good."
"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" asked Hermione.
"Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watching him," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday."
He got up again and moved restlessly to the window, staring out across the dark grounds. His mind wandered along his eyes as he stared out towards the forestry edge of Hogwarts bounds.
He sighed, "You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for."
Hermione cast him a stern look. "You've got exams coming!"
"Told you already, we're not fussed about N.E.W.T.s," said Fred.
"The Snackboxes are ready to roll. We found out how to get rid of those boils —just a couple drops of murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us onto it..." George yawned widely and looked out disconsolately at the cloudy night sky. "I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."
"Kill him, more like," said Fred firmly.
"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermione absentmindedly, "It creates all this bad feeling and tension between the Houses."
She looked up from the last bit of her dessert and caught Fred, George, and Harry looking at her with expressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on their faces.
"Well, it does!" She said impatiently. "It's only a game, isn't it?"
"Hermione," said Harry, shaking his head, "You're good on feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand about Quidditch."
"Maybe not," she said darkly, returning to her translation again, "But at least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron's goalkeeping ability."
And though the boys would rather jumped off the Astronomy Tower than admit it to her, by the time they had watched the game the following Saturday they would have given any number of Galleons not to care about Quidditch either.
In just twenty-two minutes, they had witnessed Ron's fourteenth failed save, Sloper missing the Bludger but hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat, and Kirke shrieking and falling backward off his broom as Zacharias Smith zoomed at him carrying the Quaffle.
The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points. Ginny managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby's nose, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
March 4th, 1996
"WOW. YOU ARE—"
"I am still so— out of shape— I know!" Daisy huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath. She was trying to ease the stitch on her side by clutching to it to no avail.
"I mean," Sirius shrugged. "You've improved. Good work."
He-who-promised-to-get-in-shape-along-with-her only accompanied her run up and down the 12 Grimmauld stairs once, gave up, then sat at the bottom of the stairs like a sports coach, cheering and strategizing and all.
"Sure I have."
"Were you just being sarcastic?" Sirius clicked his tongues repeatedly, then took another bite from last Valentine's abundant stock of chocolate cake. "Stop that, it doesn't suit you."
"Yes, sir."
"It's not a sprint, Flower, it's a marathon. A long process. You're gonna improve day by day."
"How about you stop trying to motivate and start running along with me?"
"Nope!" Sirius groaned, standing up and scurrying away towards the kitchen.
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
A/N:
Phew! It's been awhile, hasn't it?
I've been busy with lots of stuffs... then I saw this random post on Instagram saying: "You have 24 hours in one day. With 8 hours of good sleep and 8 hours of working, you still have 8 hours remaining. So, you have enough time to do all the things you said you have no time for." and I thought dang! How have I been spending that freaking 8 hours?
(Answer: scrolling through Instagram, watching Netflix, eating, snacking, laying around doing nothing, etc. etc.)
It kind of urged me to continue writing... and for two days, I've been rereading this story since the very first chapter. And boy, they're LOTS of words, and there are a number of loopholes, weirdness, and inconsistency.
So I wanna thank youuuuuuu, yes you, who still stick around up to this sentence anyway! I promise to finish this, not leave it on hiatus, and to edit them all from the very beginning later.
(So while rereading I found a typo where I wanted to write 'carefully' and it ended up as 'carelly', so I made a mental note, and you know how things are with mental notes. I forgot which chapter it was in LOL)