CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Bella's POV:
I love Edward. I really, really love him, unconditionally, irrationally and irrevocably. I know the reason he's so over-protective of me is because he loves me with the same intensity that I love him, and is terrified that something will happen to me. It's equal parts sweet and frustrating, and I understand- for someone who knows just how evil the world is, I couldn't fault him for being so worried. But saying I couldn't go to England without him? That was taking it a step too far.
I forgave him, of course. It was an issue we'd have to work through, and we would. Or maybe we wouldn't; maybe it would stop when I wasn't so breakable anymore, when I didn't need that protection. Either way, he'd accepted my going to England, and we hadn't spoken about it since he'd acknowledged I'd be leaving on Saturday, and returning on Sunday.
"Are you ready to go?" Hermione asks, popping her head into my room. Hermione looks equal parts excited and apprehensive, and she's fiddling with the long, slender piece of wood in her hands. Knowing what a wand is capable of is terrifying, really. I vividly remember last night, being forced out of her room by an invisible force.
This train of thought makes me smile- Hermione and Alice had a very 'interesting' day yesterday, which consisted of the beginning of their relationship. I was very surprised it was Hermione who had initiated the kiss, and even if I wanted to know more, Hermione had remained tight-lipped about it.
"I'm ready." I answer her question, sliding off my bed to my feet, hoisting up the bag with my belongings, peering at Hermione, wondering where her luggage is. Hermione spares the bag a quick glance and just flicks her wand at it, causing it to shrink in my hands to the size of a marble, answering my unasked question.
"Don't lose that." She advises me. I just stare at the miniature bag pinched between my fingers, and nod, dumbly, slipping it in my pocket. It's about five in the morning, and Charlie is still fast asleep. Hermione told him we were catching a taxi to the airport, so that my red Chevy, still parked in the driveway, wouldn't draw any suspicion.
Harry pokes his head around the door, a bright smile on his face. "You two ready to go?" He asks and I nod, even as my stomach churns. I'm feeling a touch sick at the idea of magical travelling, and Hermione gives me a sympathetic look.
"This will be a bit... uncomfortable." She warns me, holding out the hand not carrying her wand. I take a deep breath and grab her hand, tightly, interlacing my fingers with hers. She winces, slightly. "Ow." She grumbles, before twisting to the left.
Hermione was both right, and so, so wrong. It was uncomfortable, but uncomfortable was a massive understatement.
My room vanished from around me, and everything went pitch black. The most horrible sensation washed over me, like I was being pressed hard from all directions. I couldn't breath and there were iron bands tightening around my chest. It felt like my eyeballs were being forced back into my head and my eardrums were being pushed deeper into my skull.
When the world finally righted itself, I stumbled from Hermione's grip, falling onto all fours, and retching profusely. It took several minutes of gagging and heaving, before the dizziness and sickly, nauseas feelings faded. Through the veil of tears brought on by the queasiness, I looked up and the first thing I saw was Hermione's sympathetic expression.
Beside her, Harry looked positively cheery. "Welcome to England." He said with a bright grin, and I let out a piteous moan. I vaguely noticed that the sun was just starting to sink in the sky, and tried to mentally figure out the time difference as Hermione helped me to my feet, vanishing the small pool of sick on the ground, and cleaning me up with two flicks of her wand- around eight hours, I guessed.
Hermione pushed a small, uncorked phial filled with a copper colored liquid into my hands.
"Drink it," she ordered, "you'll feel much better, I promise." I glared at her, but followed her instructions, downing the tasteless liquid. Instantly my mind cleared, and the last of the sickness faded.
"What was that?" I asked, and Hermione grinned.
"A handy potion for first time side-along apparaters." She said, and I shuddered.
"That was really awful." I tell her, "How do you do that all the time?"
"It gets easier." She shrugs, "you've just got to remember the three D's so you don't get splinched." Seeing my confused expression she elaborated, "destination, determination and deliberation. And splinching... well, the official definition is that improper disapparation causes minor to major separation of body parts between the starting and ending site. Basically... you leave part of your body behind, like an arm or a leg, or something."
"Holy crow!" I spluttered, and Hermione and Harry laughed.
"It's not fun." Harry said, still grinning. "Well, now that Bella's stomach is settled, shall we go announce our presence?" He asks, and for the first time, I take a good look around where we are.
Wherever we were, we were nestled amongst rolling hills and meadows, standing in a small yard filled with pecking chickens, odd knobbly-kneed, brown creatures, each about a foot high, with bizarre potato-like heads, with an old looking sign over in the corner with the words The Burrow scribed on it in faded paint.
In front of us was the most bizarre building I'd ever seen, one that completely defied gravity. The building itself might once have been an old stone pigpen, but it now had several crooked stories attached to it. Four or five chimneys dotted the roof of the house, and the entire building had to be held up by magic, because it completely defied gravity.
"So this is the Burrow." I smile, remembering Hermione writing about it in her letters. "Which means... we're in Ottery St. Catchpole." I muse, unable to help shivering slightly.
I was getting sort used to the supernatural... well, as used to it as one can be, but still... it felt bizarre to know we'd literally been in America a few seconds ago, and were now in England.
"There's going to be a lot of hugging." Hermione warned me, as we traipsed towards the front door. "And everyone's will be about to have dinner. Mrs. Weasley will tell you that you're too skinny and make you eat seconds too."
"Great." I pulled a face, and Harry chuckled.
"Consider yourself lucky- I'm relieved if I manage to get away without basically being force-fed a fourth or fifth helping!" We reached the door, and Harry hammered on it.
A stunning young woman with bright brown eyes and a long mane of vivid, flaming red hair opened the door and just about launched herself into Harry's arms. "HARRY!" she laughed, before locking their lips together in a passionate embrace.
Behind her, a short, plump and kind-faced woman with the same flaming red hair as her daughter, wearing long robes and a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket, appeared, a bright beaming smile on her face. I had no doubts this was Molly Weasley, a woman Hermione referred to as a kind of second mother. She looked exactly like the picture Hermione had shown me when we were thirteen, clipped out of a newspaper, except for the lines of stress and grief lining her face, and the graying of her hair at the roots, speaking of the intense stress she'd been under the past few years, and the emotional pain she was suffering from the loss of her son.
"Hermione, Harry!" She beamed, bustling past her daughter and soon to be son-in-law, to sweep Hermione up into her arms. "And you must be Bella!" she said, when she finally released a gasping Hermione. "I'm Molly." She introduced herself before she pulled me into a bone-crushing, smothering hug. As I struggled for breath, I noted that she smelt like cinnamon and flour- a very motherly smell, if that was possible.
When she released me, I joined Hermione in gasping for breath, as she turned to break apart Harry and Ginny. "I wasn't quite prepared for that." I whispered to Hermione, who smiled at me.
"She's very affectionate." She said, leading the way inside the house.
"Will Ron be here?" I asked, curiously, wanting to meet Hermione's other best friend. Hermione's jaw clenched slightly before relaxing as she sighed.
"I honestly have no idea." She murmured, and I nodded, understanding her emotions. One of her best friends not being able to accept Hermione's sexual orientation must be hurting my sister dearly.
The inside of the house, of the Burrow, was crowded, but cozy, and I found myself feeling comfortable, even as I was staring around, wide-eyed. Over in the kitchen, I could see dishes washing themselves as plates laden with food floated over to the kitchen table, which was currently seating several people who were looking at me, curiously. I couldn't help my blush, and Hermione gently squeezed my hand as she led me over.
A carelessly handsome Weasley (I was guessing from the red hair and freckles) was the first to greet me, standing up and shooting me a smile. "You must be Bella," he said, holding out his hand, "I'm Charlie."
"Hi." I said, shyly, reaching out and shaking his calloused hand. Charlie worked with dragons, I remembered, in Romania, which explained his stocky, muscular build, and the long burn stretching down one of his arms.
Fleur greeted me from where she was seated. "Bonjour again, Bella chéri." She smiled.
"Hi Fleur." I replied, pleased to see the stunning Veela again. Sitting next to Fleur was (yet another) Weasley, this one the opposite of Charlie, tall and slim, dressed like he was going to a rock concert, with a row of very distinguishable scars running down his face. The scars reminded me of Emily Young's scars, and I couldn't help the instinctive pang of pity I felt.
"I'm Bill." He introduced himself as, not getting up from where he was seated beside Fleur, his arm wrapped around her waist. This didn't bother me, and I smiled back at him.
"Hi Bill." I greeted him. The final person sitting at the table was a thin man who was going bald, but the little hair on his head was as red as any of his children's, barring the threads of grey. He was wearing long navy blue robes, which were dusty and slightly-worn. He looked extremely eager to see me, and I remembered Hermione mentioning Arthur Weasley's love of anything muggle.
"I'm Arthur, Bella," he introduced himself, perking up as he looked over me, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about this rather peculiar muggle invention I came across the other day-" before I could even greet him back, though, Molly interrupted him, whacking him lightly on the side of the head.
"Where are your manners Arthur!" she scolded her husband, who instantly shut his mouth, giving me an apologetic smile. Once everyone had greeted Hermione and Harry, Molly conjured up three chairs out of mid-air for us to sit on. I tried not to gape... or faint. Really, this was just... amazing!
"It's breakfast time in America," Hermione explained, when Molly started serving us all a generous helping of what seemed like some kind of delicious smelling stew, with thick pieces of buttered bread soaking in it, "so we don't need much."
Molly nodded as if she understood, and then proceeded to start heaping food onto my plate. I thanked her with a smile, even as I wondered how in god's name I was going to be able to eat this.
Turns out the stew was so delicious, I did manage to finish it all, before Hermione, Ginny, Harry and I retreated to Ginny's bedroom. Ginny and Harry lounged on her bed, arms wrapped around each other, while Hermione conjured bean bags for us on the floor. From Ginny's window I could see the sun sinking below the horizon, and wondered what Hermione planned for us to do while it was nighttime over here.
"So Hermione," Ginny started, her voice teasing, "meet any cute American girls?" I couldn't help my grin as I relaxed into the bean-bag, waiting for my sister's answer.
"Maybe." Hermione said, two small dots of pink appearing on her cheeks.
"Okay, spill!" Demanded Ginny, and Hermione laughed and shook her head.
"Not a chance, Gin." Ginny's gaze flicked over to me, a wicked smirk forming on her face.
"Don't you dare tell her anything!" Hermione warned me, before the redhead could say anything, and I couldn't help my grin.
"So you don't want me to say anything about the cute little pixie who's caught your eye?" I teased her and Hermione's cheeks go from pink to bright red, and she glares at me.
"Nice show of sibling loyalty." She muttered, even as Ginny let out a triumphant sound. Hermione glared, "Why don't we change the subject," she suggested in a tone that said we didn't have a choice. "Have you two settled on a date for the big day?" she asked sweetly. Ginny immediately brightened up, while Harry's face seemed to get a bit pale. Seeing my questioning glance, he gestured towards Ginny and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like 'bridezilla'. I bit back a laugh, remembering Renee's wedding to Phil, and how bridezilla-ish she was, especially in the final few days.
"We're going to do it after graduation, so it's going to be a summer wedding," Ginny said, enthusiastically, "I'm thinking something Quidditch themed, seeing how much we both love it, so maybe the actual wedding can be on a pitch somewhere, then the reception can be here, at the Burrow, like Bill and Fleur's reception."
Hermione seemed to get right into the discussion, and I can't deny feeling a bit awkward, so I was glad when it was time to set up the mattresses and sleeping bags for Hermione and I on the floor. "Um, are we supposed to sleep? Because I'm wide awake." I mumbled to Hermione, who grinned at me and produced another phial, this one filled with a blue liquid.
"You'll sleep like a baby, and wake up feeling refreshed." She said, and I hesitantly drank the liquid, and then shivered slightly as a feeling of icy cold washed over me. Almost instantly I yawned, and my eyes felt scratchy. Hermione drank the same potion, and sleepily pulled her marble-sized bag out of her pocket and returned it to its normal size, pulling out a set of pajamas.
I grabbed my marble-sized bag, and Hermione flicked her wand at it, restoring it just like hers, then stripped down to her bra and panties and changed into her flannelettes.
I was sort of surprised at the casual way she, Ginny and Harry just changed in front of each other, but I guessed that living in a tent with someone, even a boy, for so long makes you comfortable enough around the other, and Hermione was confident enough in her sexuality that it didn't bother her stripping in front of a male.
Hermione did, however, conjure a screen for me to get changed behind, much to my relief, and I snuggled under the blankets, excited about what the morning was going to bring, in this crazy, down-the-rabbit-hole-esque adventure.