CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE BELLS RING
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There was Hermione, back against the wall, sitting on one of three beds on the attic with a book in hand, reading aloud the words of Shakespeare. In her lap was the head of Amandla, who had her eyes closed and was listening to the intoxicating words that left Hermione's mouth with a content smile and allowed herself to do one impossible thing; relax.
Her hand was swollen ever so slightly, but she could now manage to cast spells. And the guilt weighing in her heart was still there but didn't seem to be so loud in that moment, with Hermione speaking over her. Harry Potter was safe (yay) and the Burrow was still a mad house. With a wedding about to commence, the bride and her mother-in-law were frantic, always running around the place and making sure everything was going to be perfect. Amandla knew at that moment they were setting up the tent, since the ceremony would be later today.
But now it was time to relax, to let go, and have a moment of peace before everything.
"These violet delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume."
The words glided from Hermione's mouth so effortlessly, and even though Amandla had heard this story so many times, it sounded so new coming from her. It was foreign and magical and she never wanted the moment to end. For to gaze upon the beauty of this girl and hear her soothing voice, much like honey, was heaven. A heaven she always wanted to reach but was always so far away. Yet, here she was, there for the taking right above her. So she did, and it was magnificent.
Amandla looked at her own nails. They were painted a light pink, which matched her dress. She wasn't a fan of the color, at least not the biggest, but when Hermione told her how pretty she looked, her knees buckled and she bought it immediately. Just to hear one compliment come from the girl that would be directed towards her was worth anything.
"I don't think you're even listening anymore," Hermione teased, causing Amandla's eyes to flutter open.
She blushed, "I am...a little. Okay, I was focusing on your voice more than anything."
Hermione sighed, "You know, if you didn't like Shakespeare, you could've just said so. We didn't have to do this."
"No! I mean, I do like Shakespeare. Cevira used to read Romeo and Juliet to be all the time. I loved it – I do, but I just like hearing your voice more. It's calming, almost put me to sleep."
The Granger girl gave a kind smile and Amandla wanted to melt it was so beautiful. "Awe, but we can't have that. There's a wedding later and it would be a shame if you missed it."
"If I meant I could keep you here for myself I just might," Amandla flirted slightly.
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, "Never. People would come looking for us and see."
She faltered, but only for a moment. See. People would see. In moments like these, when it was just the two of them in their own world, where they didn't have to hide their affection and care, Amandla forgot about a world they did. A world where Hermione was terrified and Amandla stayed behind in the shadows. She tried to not let it affect her, but sometimes it did.
With a great big intake of breath, Amandla smiled again, "Of course. Now, continue with play..."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're bossy."
"Well, sometimes I need to be. Like when you won't read...for once," Hermione scoffed, "Oh, hush."
"Fine, fine, I'll continue," the bushy-haired girl complied, opening up the book again and continuing:
"Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Rome shall thank thee, daughter, for us both."
Amandla closed her eyes again, letting everything fade away as she let herself let go. There were no Weasleys downstairs, no Fleur running around while simultaneously trying to hide from Bill because "it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding!" and bossing everyone around, and no reason to hide. It was just them in their own bubble where nothing could hurt them. Amandla had never been happier.
She let herself float away to the words of Shakespeare as Romeo and Juliet got married and found herself smiling. This was living – this was living without the worry of dying and being killed at any moment. If she let herself sink more, she might be able to believe that there was no war at all.
"I love hearing plays," Amandla sighed contently, hands playing with the blanket on top the bed.
"Oh? Well, have you ever seen one performed?" Hermione asked, closing the book and taking her hands and holding them.
At that, Amandla opened her eyes again (there was still the war), and shook her head, "Never. Anastasia finds them useless. Says that if we're going to focus on muggle culture we should focus on science or math...something 'useful'."
Hermione squeezed her hand, "I'll take you to see one. After the war."
After. The confidence in her words, the use of 'after' and not 'if'. The belief she had that both of them would survive and one day would go out on a date and see a wonderful play. Maybe Shakespeare. Hopefully Shakespeare because Amandla only knew of his plays. She wanted that belief as well, the belief everything would be alright. Nothing bad would happen.
"Really?" there was still so much hope in her voice.
"Of course," Hermione smiled, "Plays are magical – theatre is magical. It's one thing to hear the words or read them...but to see it performed. See the pages come to life, it's an experience everyone should have. It's magic in its purest form."
Amandla looked at her, at their hands intertwined with each other and how beautiful Hermione was. How intoxicating...it was perfect. "I'd like that." And Hermione's smile grew brighter.
Just then, they heard a banging on the trapdoor that opened up to the attic. Hermione's hand slipped away from her own and Amandla refused to have a moment of sadness about it. She lifted her head instead and watched as Hermione went to open the door, revealing Ron.
"Someone's here to see us," he said to Hermione, not giving the other girl a glance. But the Granger girl turned back and gave an apologetic smile to her before leaving down the ladder.
But she wasn't alone for long because Cevira came upstairs looking for her. "There you are! I need you to braid my hair. Please, of course."
"Sure," Amandla agreed, standing up for a moment, "But first, how do I look?"
"Absolutely stunning, the pink looks amazing on you," Cevira complimented, "And how does the yellow look? I have to admit, I'm still a bit iffy on the whole thing."
Amandla rolled her eyes, "Cevira, you've always looked amazing in yellow, so don't be like that."
"Yeah, yeah," the Asian girl brushed off her compliment, "Now, braid my hair?"
With a nod of Amandla's head, motioning for the girl, Cevira walked over and sat down on the bed where Hermione previously was. Diligently, because this was for a wedding and not just for fun, she got to work.
"So," Amandla started, "Who's there for Hermione?"
"Oh, it's not just for Hermione. It's for the three of them," there was no need for a further explanation, "And it's Minister of Magic, something about Dumbledore's will."
Amandla frowned ever-so-slightly, "I didn't know Hermione and Dumbledore were that close."
"I didn't either. I mean, I always knew the old man favored Harry, that much is obvious to anyone, but Ron and Hermione? I barely saw him speak a word to them!" Cevira exclaimed.
"It's weird, you know? I mean, I can understand Harry, why he would get something, but what about Dumbledore's family? Didn't he leave something to them? Or his other friends? You know, the ones that are actually his age?" Amandla questioned.
Cevira shrugged, "Who knows. I mean, I never once heard anyone mention his family. Seems like they weren't very close, but even so, maybe he left them money or something. I don't know, Dumbledore was a strange man. Sad that he died, though."
Of course, Amandla's thoughts went to Draco. How he was forced with the mission to kill Dumbledore. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wanting to block out all the memories of him breaking, of him thinking he was a terrible person, unwilling to leave for the fate of his parents were left in his hands. For the fate of another at the school rest in his hands and he couldn't bear the thought of someone else being placed through what he was. No. She couldn't think like that. Not now, not anymore. Not on a day of celebration.
So, she took a deep breath and smiled again. It helped to smile. Fake it til you make it! It would have to do.
―
She's wearing a pink dress with black heels and looks absolutely helpless. The tent was beautiful, really, but she doesn't really know what to do. Where to go. Corey's by her side and he's overlooking everything as well.
"I think we'll be near the outside edges," Corey comments, "Makes sense with what the Order knows."
"Do you really think they'll attack a wedding?" Amandla questioned, looking at him but not in his eyes.
"You think they wouldn't?"
She doesn't comment on that. Grabbing his hand and pulling his to look for where they should sit. It's not like she has anyone to dance with, so why stand? "Come on, maybe we'll find Cevira on the way," the girl was with her mother and brother.
Amandla weaved through the tables looking for their names but didn't find them. People danced in the middle of the tent and she caught Hermione and Ron, who looked happy together. She felt a pain in her heart, wishing they could be as open. Wishing they could be out there dancing together and not hidden away in the shadows where no one could see them.
"Here," Corey said, pointing to the table with the Statures already sitting. "I mean, of course we're with them."
"They're our friends."
"Well, Cevira is," Corey half-agreed, grumbling the last part, "I wouldn't call Miss Ana or Caesar a friend."
Amandla jabbed him in the ribs for that one, "Shut it, you know he's been getting better. Don't ruin it."
Corey decided to stay silent after that. Cevira sent the two of them a smile when they came over, her hair in the gorgeous braid Amandla did for her. She looked glowing, seated by her brother and seemingly included in the conversions, as it should be.
"I see them," she heard Corey say lowly to the two of them, "Daddy and Luna. They're here."
Cevira frowned slightly, "Well, they have been greatly allies. And they're your family. It makes sense they're here."
Amandla took a look at them. Luna was leading her father around, the same wondrous look in her eyes as always. She felt terrible at the thought that maybe she didn't know why Corey left, or this might be the last time she'll see her brother. She nudged Corey, "You should go talk to them." The before it's too late was just left in the air, but they still knew where it belonged.
Corey still seemed apprehensive, afraid to go over, and this time Cevira took hold of his arm and sent him a reassuring smile, "Go on, they don't bite."
"Are you sure?" Corey asked them for confirmation and the two girls nodded, and he sucked in a large breath, "Alright."
He headed off towards the direction of his family and Amandla smiled. She wished she had the chance to say goodbye to her parents, or something like Corey. Cevira turned towards her and stood up, "Come on, let's dance."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Amandla asked, though she was already standing up.
Cevira sent her a pointed look, "Why wouldn't it be? We're two friends who want to enjoy a wedding – a celebration. What's wrong with that?"
Amandla bit her lip, nodding and following her friend to the dance floor. Cevira spun her around, like the classy lady she was, causing the Fitzgerald girl to laugh. It was fun and easy. It was just dancing and then Cevira spun her again into the hands of someone else; Hermione.
This, of course, caused her to blush and mumble, "Sorry." But Hermione only laughed.
"It's fine, but I think you owe me a dance now," Hermione smiled and Amandla's eyes widened a bit, wanting to ask if she was serious but she didn't, not wanting to ruin the moment.
The two began to dance when Amandla asked, "So, what did the Minister of Magic want with you?"
"Just wanted to give us the things Dumbledore left for us in his will," she shrugged, "Honestly, it's not a big deal."
"Well, what did he leave you?" Amandla asked, curiosity taking hold of her.
"Just a book. A children's book. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it," Hermione sighed.
"Read it?"
"Thanks," Hermione said sarcastically.
Amandla rolled her eyes, "No, silly. Read between the lines. Maybe he left notes in the book that he wants you to read, or just read it. Maybe he just wants you to read the stories he read growing up. Say...what book is it?"
"The Tales of the Beetle and the Bard. I don't see why it matters though."
The Fitzgerald girl smiled, "I know that one! Mum used to always read from there before bed. My favorite was always the one about the rabbit, but my dad always fancied the one of the brothers. That one always creeped me out, though."
Hermione nodded, "But I don't see how this is supposed to help me! I'm utterly clueless and I hate feeling this way."
"Sorry, I don't know how to help really, but maybe just don't think about it too much? It's a storybook, so just read it," Amandla suggested.
The other girl shrugged, "I guess you're right. I mean, all the gifts seem pretty pointless to me."
Amandla frowned. It didn't seem like Dumbledore to give them pointless gifts, but then again she never really knew the man. He was her Headmaster whom her cousin was on a mission to kill, and that's about it. She didn't know anything else. Yet still, curiosity overtook her and she asked, "Well, what are the other gifts?"
"Ron just got the Luminator thing. Steals the light from lamps and then gives it back. And Harry got his first golden snitch back...was supposed to get the Sword of Gryffindor but they can't find it," Hermione said, "So only the sword seems important, I guess."
Amandla nodded, her curiosity satisfied with the answer so she twirled Hermione around for a second and smiled softly. Fondly. This was how life was supposed to be.
"Enjoying yourself?" Amandla asked the girl, who looked utterly flawless that evening with that red dress and her hair all nice.
"With you? Always," Hermione answered with the fond smile returned.
This caused Amandla's heart to swell, the thought that Hermione really did return her feelings. Fully. This wasn't a dream – it couldn't be – and everything was right in her world for a moment. And like with everything other moment, like the ocean she thought she wasn't drowning in anymore, everything came crashing down.
Chaos erupted when spells were directed towards the tent, Death Eaters surrounding what should've been a joyful day. Hermione and Amandla gave each other panicked looks, giving each other a last kiss before departing, knowing that they wouldn't see each other until the end of the war. If they made it that far. Amandla needed to leave, and so did the other girl.
Amandla ran to the table with the Stature family where Corey met them. They didn't speak, but Anastasia held out both her hands and her two children took them, Corey taking Cevira's and Amandla taking his. Once everyone had linked hands, they Apparated away. It was that feeling of nausea she felt when they appeared in a different location; the inside of the Stature house. She never thought she would be so glad to see this house until then.
They were safe. Even with that, she hadn't a clue if Hermione ended up safe. And she never would.
"Is everyone alright?" Anastasia looked at all the teenagers in her living room, a worried look in her eyes for everyone.
"We're fine, mum," Caesar answered for everyone, but Amandla's heart was still pounding.
"I knew going to that wedding was a bad idea. Knew it wasn't safe for any of you to stay there," the woman muttered to herself and the Fitzgerald girl wanted to defend the Weasley family, for they had been so kind, but kept her mouth shut.
Anastasia hugged her son tightly before moving onto Cevira, going onto Corey – the first time she had seen this woman hug Corey – before moving to Amandla. It was the tight embrace of a worried mother, one she knew from every time her own mother hugged her when she was younger. That thought in Gwendolyn's mind of never seeing her daughter again.
"I'm going to make everyone tea right now," Anastasia let her go, rushing to the kitchen to make the drink for everyone.
And that left all them there, Amandla thinking about the hug and coming to the realization that Anastasia hadn't hugged her like that since the first time she saw a six-year-old girl standing on her porch looking for a home.
She didn't dwell on that either, she never dwelled on her thoughts those days, but looked at everyone. Corey and her shared a dark look and Amandla had to look away first. It wasn't safe for them anywhere, but she couldn't bring herself to leave yet. Because she looked at Cevira who was hugging her brother before bringing her two friends into a hug and she couldn't leave this girl. Couldn't leave this girl she considered a sister, who took her in and made her feel like she could have another family.
But she would have to. To protect Cevira from her, Amandla would have to leave. And that day was coming sooner than she liked to think.
sorry for the lack of updates in January but I got sick with the flu and then had a lot of work to catch up on in school but hopefully I'll have more updates in this month!