Not all the answers are the same, yet we still play the game
"But he's going to be okay?"
Harry, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, and I were all gathered around Ron's bed, watching as he snored lightly. By some strange piece of luck, Harry's trick with the bezoar had worked, and Ron was now on the mend. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had run in earlier in a frenzy, were now in Dumbledore's office.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. He's going to be fine."
Ron let out a string of mumbles before a loud snore.
"So the poison was in the drink?" George asked.
Harry nodded. "Slughorn poured it out—"
"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you or Pepper seeing?"
He shrugged. "Maybe—but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?"
Fred frowned. "What if he meant to get you?"
"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" Ginny asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know, but aren't there a lot of people who'd like to poison him?"
"So you think he's a Death Eater?" Ginny asked, and I tried my best not to flinch at the term.
"I think anything is possible," he replied darkly.
"What if he's under the Imperius Curse?" George offered.
"Or he could be innocent," Ginny sighed. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."
"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?"
"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," Harry piped up. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way. Maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."
I nodded in agreement, remembering Harry's task to get that memory from Slughorn.
"But didn't you say Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas?" Ginny questioned. "So couldn't the poisoner be after Dumbledore?"
As soon the words left her mouth, a nasty feeling started to spread down my body. If it was meant for Dumbledore... Did that mean Draco had done it?
"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione croaked, speaking for the first time since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had arrived. "Anyone who knows Slughorn should have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."
"Hermione."
Everyone's attention snapped back to Ron, who was still fast asleep. I was unsure if I had even heard him correctly when he spoke again.
"Her... Hermione."
I watched as Fred and George's faces split in huge grins, sending winks my way. I bit back a smile, momentarily forgetting about the possibility of Draco being the reason why Ron was in the hospital wing in the first place.
Before anybody could say anything else, though, Hagrid burst into the room, loudly demanding to know where Ron was. We were barely able to debunk Hagrid's theory that someone was after the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley scurried back inside.
After an awkward five minutes of Mrs. Weasley profusely thanking Harry for saving yet another one of her loved ones' lives, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and I left Ron in the care of his family.
"It's just terrible," Hagrid growled as we walked. "All this new security and kids are still getting hurt. I know Dumbledore's worried sick. He doesn't say much, but I can tell."
"He doesn't have any ideas?" Hermione asked desperately. "Nothing at all?"
"I suspect he's got hundreds," Hagrid replied. "But he doesn't know who sent that necklace or poisoned that wine, or they would have been caught already. That's what worries me. I mean, how long can Hogwarts stay open if kids are getting attacked?"
"It's like the Chamber of Secrets all over again," I said.
"Exactly," Hagrid said with a nod. "Soon enough, there'll be more panicking, more parents taking their kids out, and before you know it, the school will be closed."
"Would they really?" Hermione asked, worry evident in her voice.
"You've got to see it from their perspective. It's a risk sending your kids so far away... and they can get murdered? No wonder Dumbledore's angry with Snape—"
"Dumbledore's angry with Snape?" I asked quickly.
Hagrid froze for a moment, shock spreading across his face. "I didn't say that. You lot should really be getting to bed... it's so late—"
"Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?" Harry asked loudly.
"Shhh!" he shushed, looking around in agony. "Don't yell!"
"What did Snape do?" I pressed.
"I didn't mean to hear it!" Hagrid groaned. "I was walking out of the forest when I heard them arguing. I tried not to listen, but they were furious and it wasn't easy to block out."
"But what did they say?" I asked.
"Snape said Dumbledore took too much for granted and that maybe he—Snape—didn't want to do it anymore."
"Do what?"
"I don't know... it sounded like Snape was feeling overworked. Dumbledore flat out told him he had promised to do it. And then he said something about Snape's investigations in Slytherin, but before you start with that, all the Heads of Houses were asked to look into that necklace business," he warned, shooting us a warning glare.
"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?" Harry said.
"Look, I know what you think about Snape, but you can't go reading into this when we don't know what it is. Now get to bed before Filch sees you."
I wasn't in a particularly good mood the next morning, especially since I was awakened at six o'clock in the morning by Faye, who said Cormac McLaggen was pacing the common room asking for me.
"What the hell do you want at this hour?" I groaned.
"That's a great question," Harry said, appearing from the other side of the room. "McLaggen—"
"I saw them taking Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. It didn't look like he'll be fit for next week's match," he said, staring at us with wide eyes.
"Did you wake me up to ask if you could play this week?" I asked, clenching my fists.
"Well, is he going to be fit for the match?"
"Well, no—"
"Then that means I'll be playing Keeper, doesn't it?" he said. "And I should be made aware so I can rearrange my schedule accordingly. It's kind of rude that you didn't tell me until right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said dryly. "I'm sorry I forgot about you while my best friend almost died."
"But I'm playing—"
"Yes, you're playing," Harry snapped. "Can we go now?"
"As soon as you tell me when practice is," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Today before dinner," he said.
"Great, and the three of us should have a talk beforehand. I've got some ideas you might find useful."
"Write them down and we'll talk later," I said, stomping back up to bed. "And if you wake me up before nine o'clock on a Sunday, I swear McLaggen, you'll never play Quidditch again."
Much to my dismay, I couldn't fall back asleep because as soon as I returned, Lavender Brown was in my bed, an expression of utter anger on her face.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that my boyfriend almost died?" she demanded.
I let out a long sigh. "Good morning, Lavender."
"I mean, come on, Pepper!" she said. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"Look, Lavender," I began, "I didn't mean to not tell you. It all happened so suddenly, and Harry and I were really focused on making sure Ron was okay."
"You told Hermione and they haven't spoken in weeks!" she exclaimed.
"Harry told Hermione."
"Then why didn't he tell me—?"
"I don't know—"
"I just find it rather ridiculous that..."
∆ ∆ ∆
I spent the remainder of the week absolutely miserable. Harry and I spent nearly every night trying to plan around Ron's absence in a place we wouldn't be found by McLaggen or Lavender, who seemed to possess a Marauders' Map of their own. McLaggen would not stop offering his subpar advice, and Lavender demanded to know why Ron was always asleep when she went to visit him.
In the times I wasn't working with Quidditch or any Ron-related damage control, I was
was drowning in work. I was in the library so often that it would have made more sense for me to sleep there. It was only when I was in the library that I got to see Draco, who was equally as miserable as I was, if not more.
On the morning of the match, Draco and I ate by the lake in an attempt at a moment of peace. Harry was visiting Ron in the hospital, which I politely declined because Ron had been in a foul mood ever since he found out about Lavender and McLaggen.
After a quick breakfast,
The weather for the match was ideal with the exception of a few strong gusts of wind and some blinding flashes of warm sunlight.
But before I could step up and give the team a few pointers, McLaggen pushed past Harry and I and turned to face everyone with a grin.
"Tricky conditions! Make sure you fly out of the sun, so they don't see you coming—"
"You're not a Captain," I said through gritted teeth. "Shut up and go stand where you're supposed to be."
As he marched off, Harry begrudgingly told the team to stay out of the sun.
After the customary hand-shaking—I made sure to give Zacharias Smith the nastiest glare I could muster—the Quaffle was released.
"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle," said a voice I recognized to be Luna's. "He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose... it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he's playing them... look, he's lost the Quaffle, Pepper took it from him, I do like her, she's very nice."
I smirked and pushed past Smith with glee. But in my excitement, I wasn't careful enough and some Hufflepuff player took the Quaffle from me and nearly kicked me off my broom.
"What the hell, Pepper?" McLaggen yelled from the goal posts. "How did you lose possession of the Quaffle? Did you have a good grip—?"
"And Hufflepuff scores," Luna announced. "It looks like McBaggen was too busy chatting. He is very chatty."
"Shut up and pay attention!" I shouted. "Focus on your own damn job!"
"You're not setting a great example!" McLaggen shouted back, red-faced and furious.
"It looks like Pepper's having an argument with her Keeper. It's futile, Cermac. She's really stubborn, and she's a professional, so she probably knows more than you do..."
Too furious to be amused, I managed to grab the Quaffle out of Smith's hands, which seemed to be made of butter, and scored a goal.
Ginny and I were able to score three goals back to back, our only real struggle being against the player who had stolen the Quaffle from me in the beginning.
Luna was not the best commentator, deciding to remark on the shape of the clouds and the possibility of random fairy-like creatures that lived in broomsticks. The Snitch was nowhere to be seen, and the sun was getting on my nerves, blinding me what felt like every other second.
My only relief was Luna telling the crowd that she believed Smith to suffer from "Loser's Lurgy".
"Oh, look!" Luna said as we were thirty points behind. "The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."
I spun my head around so quickly I almost lost my balance. I was appalled to see McLaggen holding a bat, attempting to demonstrate to our poor Beater how to use it.
" Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goal posts !" Harry roared. But he chose the wrong time to fly towards him. McLaggen's aim was terrible, and the Bludger went straight to Harry's head.
He was immediately rushed to the hospital wing, and we were forced to play without a Seeker. Needless to say, we lost. I dressed angrily, intending to complain about McLaggen to Draco, who was waiting patiently outside.
"It wasn't our best work," I said at the entrance of the locker rooms, "but we'll take this as an opportunity to better our game. Not every match is going to be ideal conditions and an easy team."
McLaggen snorted.
I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I just don't think all of us played poorly," he said. "I think I did a good job."
"You were not only the worst player today, but the worst player we've had in a while," I said angrily. "It's okay to have ideas on strategy, but to suggest them during a match is unacceptable. What makes you think it's okay to take a Beater's bat? You're a Keeper."
He scoffed. "You would have taken it too if you had seen it. But you were too busy trying to gather glory than to pay attention to the faults of your team."
"I'm not looking for glory," I hissed. "I was focusing on my job. I don't ever want to see you take someone's bat again. As a matter of fact, I don't want your dumb ass doing anything but goal-keeping, because that's why you're here. If you were meant to get Captain, then you would have gotten Captain."
He snorted. "We all know it's because Dumbledore loves you and Potter. It gives you no right to be such a bitch."
"Excuse me?" Draco said, cutting in.
McLaggen laughed. "And now you have your little lackey coming to the rescue. You know Atkinson, you talk a lot of shit but never do anything. You're not that good at anything, but you act like you're the shit. The only good thing about you is your ass—"
My foot connected with his inner thigh before I knew it, and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. As he wheezed and grabbed his groin, I pulled him by the hair.
"Don't you ever talk about me like that. After all this shit you've pulled, I don't think you'll ever see the inside of a Quidditch match again. And before you smart mouth me again, remember that there are witnesses who heard everything that came out of your pathetic little mouth." I let him go and he let out a cry. "And for the record, you can call me ugly all you want, but it doesn't erase the fact that despite you knowing I have a boyfriend, you were practically on your knees for me."
∆ ∆ ∆
Both Harry and Ron were released from the hospital wing on Monday morning. I was glad to have them both back in good health, and apparently Hermione was too, as she started talking to Ron again. She was awfully chatty as we walked down to breakfast, telling the boys about the foul argument Ginny and Dean had had earlier.
"What did they fight about?" Harry asked, his voice a little strained.
"Dean laughed about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you," I replied.
"It must have looked funny," Ron said reasonably.
"No, it didn't!" Hermione snapped, and I nodded my head in agreement. "It looked awful and if the Beaters hadn't caught Harry, he could have been way worse off than he was."
"Well, there's no need for them to break up over it," Harry said, almost too casually. "They did break up?"
"No," I said with a frown. "Why do you care—?"
"I don't want the team to be messed up!" he said hastily, but I knew that wasn't it. But before I could say anything else, Luna delivered a note from Dumbledore summoning Harry for another lesson.
"You know, she's growing on me," Ron chuckled after he complimented her commentary. "She's actually really—hi."
Lavender Brown, who was still rather peeved with me, was standing in front of him, her arms crossed and her foot tapping angrily against the ground.
Without a word, I yanked Harry and Hermione forward, only narrowly escaping her loud outcries.
They were at breakfast half an hour later, both silent and both looking miserable. Not particularly in the mood to deal with any more of Lavender than needed, I scarfed down my oatmeal and plucked Draco from the Slytherin table, where he sat miserably.
"It looks like they've made up," he said once we were in the comfort of my room.
"Let's just hope it lasts," I muttered. "Ron already looks miserable now that Lavender's back."
"Is he okay?" he asked hesitantly. "With the... with the incident, I mean."
I nodded. "Yeah, he's okay. It was really terrifying, though. I was there when it happened and Slughorn wasn't doing anything."
"He wasn't?"
"No. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Harry hadn't thought of a bezoar. He could have died."
It was silent for a moment, but it wasn't the usual, comfortable moments we always had. This silence was heavy, and when I turned to ask him if something felt off, I saw he was much paler than normal, with an expression of extreme guilt on his face.
Feeling everything in my stomach drop, I lowered my voice. "Was that you?"
His eyes shot up. "What?"
"Was that you?" I repeated, remembering my suspicions from when Ron had been in the hospital. "The bottle of wine. Slughorn said it was meant for Dumbledore. Did you give it to Slughorn to give to Dumbledore?"
"Pepper, I can't answer that," he said. "You know that."
"Is anyone even helping you?" I said, my chest growing tight. "I mean... did you give Katie Bell the necklace? I thought someone was meant to help you, but it seems like you're doing everything on your own—"
"Pepper, I'm getting help—"
"Are you? If you need my help, I'll help you—"
"Absolutely not," he snapped. "I'm not putting you in that kind of danger."
"But you can be in danger? How is that fair?" I said desperately. "I want to help!"
"I won't let you!" he yelled. "I don't care what happens to me as long as it means you're safe!"
"Well, I won't sit here all safe and sound while something terrible happens to you!" I snapped. "So let me! Tell me if you need help!"
"I don't! Dumbledore told me to do both of those things, okay? I'm following his orders!" he yelled. "Do you think I want to do this? I don't want to hurt people, Pepper! I'm doing this to protect people!"
"Dumbledore told you?"
"I can't talk about it. We can't talk about it. That was the deal." He let out a sigh. "It's not that I don't want to tell you. I tell you everything I can."
"I know," I said. "I know, it's just... I don't feel good sitting here while you're doing something you don't want to do. But I trust Dumbledore. Right? Do you trust him?"
"We have to," he said. "That's the only choice we have."
We walked in silence to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I knew would only lower my morale. I took my seat next to Draco just as Harry rushed in.
"Late again, Potter," Snape said. "Ten points from Gryffindor."
I scowled, knowing he was on time, but had no energy to fight Snape. Harry shot him a venomous look as Crabbe walked in a few minutes later, penalty-free.
"Before we start, I want your dementor essays. And I hope for your sake they're better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page—what is it, Mr. Finnigan?"
"Sir," Seamus said. "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius—"
"No, there wasn't."
"But sir, I heard people talking—"
"If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher... but let's ask Harry Potter, since he seems to have a lot to say about it."
All eyes turned to Harry, who had been very intently whispering something to Ron and Hermione.
"Tell us Potter. What is the difference between an Inferi and a ghost?"
"Er—well—ghosts are transparent—" he said after a minute.
"Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. ' Ghosts are transparent. '"
Several people chuckled as he continued. "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid—"
"A five-year-old could have told us as much," Snape snapped. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth . . . and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent. "
"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" Ron said defensively. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a shufti to see if it's solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'"
"Another ten points from Gryffindor. I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room."
"Don't say anything," Draco said as I opened my mouth. "He's in a foul mood today, and you'll just get detention with him."
As soon as I got the chance, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I sat miserably against a sink. I sat there debating how long I could sit in here without taking too long when I heard a small sniff to my right.
"Who's there?" I asked warily.
"Nobody," said Moaning Myrtle's voice.
"Come on out, Myrtle. It's only me," I said, and she floated towards me.
"I haven't seen you, Theo, and Petunia around much," she said, her tone accusatory. "Are you finally tired of me?"
"Never," I replied. "I've just been really busy, I suppose. And there really hasn't been that much space in my schedule for pranking."
"It wouldn't kill you to visit more," she said. "I see Draco more than I see you."
I frowned. "When do you see Draco? Here?"
"I can go to other places, you know," she said. "He comes to the boys' bathroom on the fifth floor to cry a lot. Whatever's going on with him, he's very overwhelmed."
I felt my throat tighten. "Really?"
She nodded. "He really loves you, you know? He talks about you all the time. And I've been here for ages. I've heard so many people talk about their boyfriends and girlfriends, and it's never been like that before," she said with a little sigh. "I do think that boy's heart was made to beat for you."
When class ended, I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you. With everything I have to give."
Later that day, McGonagall gave us the news that there were extra apparition lessons in Hogsmeade for whoever wanted them. I thought I could use a bit of extra practice and joined Ron and Hermione in signing up. But when I went to write my name down on the sheet, McGonagall stepped in front of me.
"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office, Miss Atkinson," she said.
"Sure," I said. "Just let me sign first—"
"No, go now," she said, and all but pushed me away from the table. Confused and slightly annoyed, I walked out of the common room and upstairs to Dumbledore's office, where he waited outside with a smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Miss Atkinson," he said kindly as we walked into his office. "How are you doing today?"
"I'm okay," I said. "May I ask what the nature of this... meeting is, sir?"
"Ah, yes," he said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you regarding your apparition examination."
"What about it?"
"I'm afraid you won't be able to take it this year," he said. "I am terribly sorry for the lateness of this news, but there is an exam you can take next year."
"What? Why do I have to wait?" I asked. "And why until next year? I'll be of age before the exam date."
"I am well aware. But you are not permitted to take the exam this year, and I'm afraid I cannot tell you why at this given point in time. In addition, you will not be allowed to take the extra lessons since you will not be taking the test."
"But that's not fair—"
"I am simply telling you what is going to happen," he said calmly. "I'm afraid it's not something that can be changed. I truly am sorry, Miss Atkinson. You are dismissed."
I stomped my way to the Great Hall, where I wasted no time in informing Ron and Hermione of this great injustice.
"Can he even do that?" Ron asked, perplexed.
Hermione sighed. "I guess he can. I really do wonder why he wouldn't tell you, though."
"You and me both," I muttered. "I'm so tired of him keeping information from me. I feel like I have a right to know these things."
"Yes, but I assume Dumbledore has a reason to not tell you," Hermione pointed out. "You don't have to like it."
"But it's been ages and—"
"I just saw Tonks," Harry said, sliding next to me. "Here. In the castle. By the Room of Requirement."
"Why were you by the Room of Requirement?" I asked.
"I was just taking a walk," he said quickly. "But she said she'd come to visit Dumbledore, only he was busy."
"Yeah, with me," I muttered. "He won't let me take the apparition examination."
"What, why?"
I shrugged. "He won't tell me. But nevermind that—why is Tonks here?"
"If you ask me," Ron said, "she's losing it. She has been since what happened at the Ministry."
"It's odd," Hermione piped up. "She's supposed to be guarding the school, why's she suddenly abandoning her post to come and see Dumbledore?"
"Well, I had a thought," Harry said slowly. "You don't think... she could have been in love with Sirius?"
"What on earth makes you say that?" I said, astonished.
He shrugged. "She was nearly crying when I mentioned his name, and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now. I wondered whether it hadn't become... you know... him."
"But Sirius was in love with Remus. And he was gay," I said. "So wouldn't she have been upset before?"
"And even if she is," Hermione said, "I still don't know why she'd be bursting into the castle to see Dumbledore, though."
"She's lost it," Ron said again. "Women tend to do that. Look at Lavender."
∆ ∆ ∆
"You're going to wake her up again, Ron," a voice hissed, snapping me out of my sleep. "Last year you woke her up with your loudness—"
"You're going to wake her up with your complaining," another voice retorted as I kept my eyes shut. "Shut up."
"Both of you shut up," a third voice cut in.
"I'm afraid she's already awake," a final voice said, a chuckle following.
"No, her eyes are closed."
"Weasley, I sleep with her quite often. I can tell when she's actually asleep."
"I'm afraid he's right," I said, sitting up with a sleepy grin. "What's all this?"
"Happy birthday darling," Draco said, holding out a small cake. "Granger gathered us all here to blissfully wake you, but you were already awake."
"I told you, Ron," Hermione snapped.
"It wasn't me—"
"Quiet down before you wake Lavender," Harry hissed, and Ron immediately stopped talking. "I have been instructed to tell you to arrive at the Gryffindor common room at precisely nine o'clock Friday night. No sooner."
"Whatever for?"
"I dunno," he lied terribly. "Now open your gifts. It seems your father has overdone it this year."
After an entertaining start to my morning—including a birthday Howler from the twins—I enjoyed breakfast by the lake with Draco, taking advantage of the warm, spring day.
"I'm really sorry about your apparition exam," he said.
I shrugged. "It's not your fault. And I do suppose we could go together now."
"I mean, I suppose , but I was really looking forward to you popping in and out of my house," he groaned.
I snorted. "Like your father wouldn't have my head the moment I stepped in."
"But you could've picked me up."
"Shut up before I break up with you," I laughed.
"You're one to talk," he said. "I should end this. You're taking advantage of me. You're dating someone who's underage."
Most classes—with the obvious exception of DADA—started with a rendition of Happy Birthday thanks to Ron standing on his chair and forcing everyone to sing along. Slughorn enjoyed this vehemently, going on a five minute rant about how he expected me to do great things and get him front-row seats to watch it unfold.
The rest of my day passed without much trouble. I spent a lovely night with Draco in the Room of Requirement and didn't have too much work to do for the next day. The week passed quickly, with Harry reminding me to keep Friday free as if I were planning to leave the school.
When Friday finally rolled around, Draco took me to his room at seven, where he had a blue box on his bed.
"A higher power instructs you to wear this," he said, nodding toward the box.
I raised an eyebrow. "Is it you?"
He bit back a smile. "Perhaps."
I laughed and opened the box to reveal a beautiful navy blue dress I had been eyeing in the Gladrags catalog. I looked up. "You didn't."
"Happy birthday, Peppermint," he said, pressing a kiss to my lips. "Now put it on so you can help me pick out a matching outfit."
When five 'till nine rolled around, I stood in front of the Fat Lady, who would not let Draco and I inside until exactly nine.
"You two look lovely," she said. "Most of us here agree that you're quite the lookers, especially together. You'll make beautiful children if you have any. But don't get pregnant now," she added hastily.
"We weren't planning on it," I said, my face flushed red.
"Although a baby would be fun," she said thoughtfully. "Do you think you'd have a son or daughter?"
"Er—"
"What about both? A daughter with your beautiful light hair and her gorgeous eyes. And then your son could have her dark hair and your eyes. Any names in mind?"
"I'm afraid that if you're looking for a child, you're looking in the wrong place," Draco said awkwardly.
"Are you sure—?"
"It's nine," came Ron's voice from the inside. "Can you let them in please?"
With a short huff, the Fat Lady swung open, and I was bombarded by confetti, glitter, and the screams of what felt like half the school.
"Surprise!" Harry said saccharinely. "I bet a birthday party never even crossed your mind!"
"Never," I replied. "Thank you guys. This is amazing."
"Come take your first legal drink," Hermione said, handing me a shot of firewhiskey.
Several drinks later, Draco and I were dancing to ABBA's Dancing Queen when he tugged me away from the dance floor and upstairs. "I have something else for you."
"Can no one see it?" I asked cheekily.
"It's a secret."
Once we got to my room, I was rather surprised to see him pull out a book.
"We're reading?" I asked.
"Do you remember how badly you've wanted to dye your hair?" he asked. "Well, I know your dad won't let you do it because of chemicals, so I did some research. There's spells we can use that change the color of your hair without chemicals if you want to go the healthier way. If not, I wrote to Pucey and he sent back pink hair dye and bleach. It's up to you."
I grinned. "God, I love you."
"I know. Now choose."
"I'm an adult now," I said simply. "Get the bleach out."