𝓦𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐲
⟠
The Burrow was filled with the buzz of soft chatter that evening after supper. The Weasleys and their guests lounged in the living room, a peaceful languour falling upon them as a Christmas broadcast of Celestina Warbeck and Mrs Weasley's reminiscence of her marriage played in the background. The twins were sat on the threadbare carpet, playing a game of exploding snap with Ron and Ginny. Harry absentmindedly watched their match, glancing every few seconds to Edelyn.
"So..." Remus hummed in a voice that people often adopted when they were about to ask a rhetorical question, "is it my imagination, or is there some tension between you and Harry?"
Edelyn glimpsed over her shoulder and caught a fleeting glance of emerald green. She gazed back into the fire, expression hard. "We had a spat."
"If memory serves, your last spat was messy, yet the two of you made up just fine. Was this one worse?" Remus inquired.
Edelyn tugged at the sleeves of her jumper. "He same some terrible things about me and used Sirius' death as ammunition."
"That doesn't sound like him."
"Well, Potter's full of surprises, isn't he?" she grumbled irritably.
Remus frowned thoughtfully. "You know, Harry is a lot like his father...stubborn and hot-headed. Whatever he may have said, I'm sure he never meant to intentionally hurt you, Lyn. If there's anything I know about the boy, it's that he cares for you."
"Well, he has a ruddy rubbish way of showing it."
"Yes, well, the Potters have always been...slightly clueless as to how to behave around girls. Especially girls they like."
"What do you mean?
Remus smiled. "James was an idiot whenever Lily was around. Poor bloke never knew how to act around her. He'd always do something stupid, coming off as an arrogant toerag — I'm quoting directly there."
"An arrogant toerag?"
"Oh, yes," he chuckled. "She absolutely hated his guts. It all changed in our seventh-year, of course, when James matured and finally listened to the advice everybody gave him. But my point is that perhaps Harry's inherited the same folly when it comes to you."
Edelyn blinked and propped her chin on her knees.
Harry, meanwhile, was seriously contemplating buying all the liquorice wands from Honeydukes when Fred turned to face him. "You're a real git, you know that?"
Harry's shoulders slouched forward. "Yeah, I know."
Fred gave him an inquisitive look before heaving a heavy sigh and giving him a pitying pat on the shoulder. "Alright, look, here's what you're going to do..."
The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of her laughter. Squinting behind his glasses, he saw Edelyn on Ron's bed, wearing a loose-fitting yellow knitted jumper with the letter 'E' stitched on the front. She held something shimmery in her hands.
"There you are, Won-Won," she cooed, eyes brimmed with tears of joy. Around Ron's neck hung a thick gold chain from which dangled the letters « my sweetheart ».
"She can't honestly think I'd wear this!" Ron protested, face pale in horror as he quickly took the necklace off and shoved it under his pillow.
"Oh, but Ronniekins, it's classy," Edelyn teased.
Ron shook his head in disbelief. "How could Lavender think I'd like something like that?" he demanded.
Edelyn puckered her brow. "Well, think back..." she hummed, "have you ever let it slip in conversation that you'd — you know — like to go out in public with the words my sweetheart around your neck?"
Ron spluttered. His ears burned scarlet. "We don't really...really talk much, do we? It's mainly—"
"—snogging."
Edelyn and Ron jumped and looked over at Harry's camp bed.
"Uh, morning," Ron greeted, shooting a nervous glance at Edelyn.
"Yeah, morning," Harry awkwardly returned.
Edelyn returned her focus to Ron. "See you downstairs," she said and dashed out the room.
"Don't worry, mate," Ron said, catching the disappointment in Harry's face. "She'll come around soon enough."
Before long, everyone was wearing the new jumpers that Mrs Weasley had knit them and was sat down for Christmas lunch. Harry's eyes trailed to Mrs Weasley who was happily wearing a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.
"Fred and George gave them to me," she explained. "Aren't they beautiful?"
"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum," began George.
"Now we're washing our own socks," finished Fred.
"And thanks for picking them out," George whispered to Edelyn.
The lunch passed merrily. To Harry's great delight, Edelyn spoke to him for the first time in over a week. Though it was only to politely ask him to pass her the gravy, he felt that it was something. Small steps. He thought to himself.
In his eagerness to do so, however, he knocked the gravy goat flying.
"Careful!" Bill flicked his wrist and saved the gravy from spilling all over the table.
Fred rubbed his temples and watched as the corners of Edelyn's mouth pulled upward.
They were all in mid-conversation when Mrs Weasley suddenly shouted, "Arthur!" She had risen from her chair, a hand pressed against her heart as she stared out of the kitchen window. "Arthur — it's Percy."
"What?!"
Everyone hastily glanced out the window, and sure enough, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight, was Percy Weasley, accompanied by none other than—
"Arthur," Mrs Weasley breathed. "He's — he's with the Minister!"
Twenty seconds later, the back door swung open and in came the third eldest Weasley child with Rufus Scrimgeour. A painful silence ensued before Percy spoke stiffly, "Merry Christmas, Mum."
Mrs Weasley stared at him. Then, flinging her arms around him, she exclaimed, "Oh, Percy!"
"You must forgive this intrusion," said Scrimgeour. "Percy and I were in the vicinity — working, you know — and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all." But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet anybody else. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, staring over everybody else's heads. Mr Weasley, Fred, and George were observing him stony-faced.
"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" fluttered Mrs Weasley.
"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly."
"Oh, Perce!" Mrs Weasley gushed, reaching up to kiss him.
"We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. If anybody could care to show me your charming garden...Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"
Harry rose slowly out of his chair. "Erm...yeah, sure"
"Wonderful! Well, we'll be back shortly." Scrimgeour's eyes met Percy's intently, before darting to Edelyn.
The awkward silence that was left in Scrimgeour and Harry's departure's wake was then broken when Percy coughed as if to clear his throat and turned to face Edelyn. "It's nice to see you again," he said.
Edelyn raised an eyebrow at him; to have greeted her before even acknowledging the presence of his father and siblings was odd, to say the least. Before she could make any response, however, Fred snarled coldly, "Spit it out, Perce. What's the real reason you're here?"
Mrs Weasley frowned reproachfully at Fred, but he simply continued to stare at Percy with glassy eyes. Percy, meanwhile, ignored him completely and said, "May I please have a word in private, Edelyn?"
"Whatever you have to say, you can just say it here," she said flatly.
"It is a sensitive matter."
"All the more reason."
"Fine," said Percy stiffly. "The Ministry is trying to make amends and would like you to make a statement."
"A statement on what?"
"A statement of forgiveness. A statement saying that you forgive the Ministry of Magic for the wrongful imprisonment of your father."
There was a moment of deafening silence before Edelyn's thighs rammed into the side of the table. "Excuse me?"
"It was an unfortunate situation—"
"Unfortunate situation?" she spat, shooting Percy a glare that was worthy only of a Black.
He cowered slightly and said, "All the evidence pointed — there were more than fifty eyewitnesses—"
"He never even got a fair trial!" Edelyn hissed. "The Ministry just chucked him in there, and then pointed fingers at him once again last year when there was another breakout from Azkaban!"
"The only logical conclusion then was that Black was behind it," Percy retorted defensively.
Edelyn shook her head in incredulity. "You're unbelievable! The bloody Ministry's the reason I only had a year with my father, and you're telling me they want me to send in a statement of forgiveness?!"
Percy swallowed thickly. "Prisoners are allowed to write letters and to have visitors," he pressed. "It is not the fault of the Ministry that Sirius never contacted you."
The kitchen stilled.
Edelyn's features softened as hurt replaced anger. "Here's my statement of forgiveness, Percy," she said coldly, and flicked him the middle finger before storming out.
"You bloody prat!" Fred growled, rising from his seat and pointing his wand at Percy.
"Fred, don't." It took the combined efforts of George and Ron to hold Fred back. Mrs Weasley shifted away from Percy to her husband.
Bill rose calmly to his feet, a hand still held in Fleurs and said, "Percy, I think it time you leave."
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"He's a git, Lyn," George stated a few days after the New Year as Harry, Ron, Edelyn, and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fireplace to return to Hogwarts. "Whatever Percy said..." He paused and a telepathic message was sent through a subtle tilt of the head before Fred chimed in, "I mean, they didn't even give Sirius a trial before throwing him into Azkaban, now did they?" George nodded fervently. "They probably didn't let him send letters or anything like that."
Edelyn, who had been in a sour mood since Percy's visit over the break, shrugged and swept away to where Mr and Mrs Diggory were consoling Mrs Weasley.
"Oh, come on, Molly dear," Mrs Diggory spoke as she patted her friend on the shoulder. "There's no need to fret about them. They'll be with Dumbledore. They'll be safe."
Edelyn snorted a wry laugh.
"Lyn—" Mr Diggory began with a reproachful look, but Edelyn simply rolled her eyes and muttered, "Tell that to Ced."
Like a string being looped and tied, tension ripped through the air, and all eyes landed on the Black. But Edelyn's gaze was fixed on her sneakers, arms folded as she leaned against the kitchen wall, eyebrows knitted in a mixture of resentment and ill-temper.
"W-well," Mrs Weasley's sniffled voice broke the taut silence that had fallen upon them. Looking at her youngest children, she pulled Ron and Ginny into a tight embrace and said, "Promise — promise me you'll look after yourselves?"
"'Course, Mum," Ron struggled through collapsed lungs. "Don't worry about us, or about Percy. He's such a prat, it's not really a loss, is it?"
The Diggories, meanwhile, exchanged a nervous look. "Lyn...?"
Gunmetal blue drifting up, Edelyn sighed before moving herself away from the wall and allowing herself to be engulfed in their arms. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I didn't mean to bring Ced — I just — Percy—" She paused and took a steadying breath. "I miss them," she spoke in barely a whisper.
Mr Diggory pressed a kiss to her forehead as Mrs Diggory said, "I know you do, sweetie," caressing her hair as she spoke. "We miss Ced too, and Sirius...it was cruel how little time you two had together."
"But," Mr Diggory chimed in, propping a finger under Edelyn's chin and tilting her head up, "we can't lose ourselves in grief. They wouldn't have wanted that. You're sixteen, Lyn, and though times are dark, you should be enjoying yourself. You're in sixth-year, you're supposed to be having fun."
"Fun with friends," Mrs Diggory added with a knowing glint in her eyes.
Edelyn's gaze flickered to Harry. She was surprised to see that he was exchanging hushed whispers with the twins.
Before she could give it much thought, Weasley's voice rung in her ears and she was quickly ushered toward the fireplace. With a flustered wave goodbye, she fisted a handful of Floo powder and said, "Hogwarts!"
As the first week of term trudged along, it became apparent to the students of Hogwarts that the Golden Quartet was no more. With Ron and Hermione still refusing to speak to one another and Edelyn only ever giving Harry the light of day during Quidditch practices, the once tightly-knit group of four became alternating duos.
January soon drifted into February and Harry had never felt so miserable before. Whenever haunting thoughts of Voldemort or the mission Dumbledore had given him kept him up at night, he would reach for his two-way mirror, only to remember a second later that Edelyn had likely stuffed the thing at the bottom of her trunk by now. Whenever he was losing confidence as Captain, earned a disappointing P in an assignment, or simply found himself in a disheartened mood, he thought of her. Everything reminded him of those gunmetal blue eyes.
"Happy birthday, Ron!" Harry exclaimed on the first of March, awoken by Seamus and Dean as they left noisily from their dorm for breakfast.
Ron swiftly began to attend to the small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Harry rummaged through his trunk for the gift he had wrapped a few weeks back. After turning out half of the contents, he finally found the box and tossed it over.
Ron tore it eagerly open. "Nice one!" he said, waving the new pair of Keeper's gloves.
While Ron continued unwrapping his presents, Harry dressed in his worn-out Muggle clothes and shook his head when Ron held out a box of chocolate cauldrons and asked, "Want one?"
Harry was just tucking his wand into his back pocket when there was a knock on the door. His stomach lept into a sommersault at the sight of Edelyn. She was wearing a pair of patched jeans and a baggy old jumper that looked like it once belonged to Cedric. Her messy ebony curls were pulled back into a short ponytail. Harry instantly caught a whiff of her strawberry shampoo.
"Er...h-hi," he greeted, fingers instantly reaching up to rake through his hair.
She coughed to clear her throat. "Hi," she returned before peering past him to send Ron a wave. "Just wondered if you guys wanted to go down to breakfast together."
Harry blinked at her. "You mean — uh — us, as in him and me?"
Edelyn tugged at her sleeves. "Well, it's — um — Ron's birthday, isn't it? I thought we could — er — spend the day together...for his sake, you know? I mean, we're his friends. If you don't want to, that's—"
"What? No! No. No, I do!" Harry hastily spluttered. "I do, really! We'll — er — meet you down in the common room in five."
When Harry wheeled back around to face Ron, it was with a giddy grin.
"Come on, get dressed," he said enthusiastically.
After brushing his teeth and checking his hair, he stepped out of the bathroom to find that Ron hadn't moved at all. Instead, he was leaning against his bedpost, staring out the rain-washed window with an oddly unfocused expression.
"Ron?"
"Hmm?"
"Come on, then. Get dressed for breakfast."
"I'm not hungry. I'll come down with you," Ron said with a soft sigh, "but I don't want to eat."
Harry sent him a scrutinizing look. "You've just eaten half a box of chocolate cauldrons, haven't you?
"It's not that—" he heaved a much heavier sigh "—I just...I just can't stand it!"
"Can't stand what?"
"I can't stop thinking about her!"
Harry's lips parted; friends they might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender Lav-Lav, he would have to put his foot down.
"Why does that stop you from having breakfast?" he asked.
Ron threw his arms up in a desperate gesture. "I don't think she likes me that way."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Uh...I'd say she definitely does. I mean, she keeps snogging you, doesn't she?"
Ron blinked at him. "Who are you talking about?"
"Who are you talking about?" Harry asked, becoming increasingly alarmed.
"Lyn, of course," Ron spoke softly, his whole face illuminating as her name rolled off his tongue.
The two boys stared at each other in silence before Harry finally said, "This is a joke, right? You're joking."
Ron shook his head. "I think...I think I'm in love with her," he said in a strangled voice.
"Okay," Harry mumbled, walking up to his best mate and getting a better look at his glazed eyes and pallid complexion. "Okay, say that again with a straight face."
"I love her!" Ron breathed. "She's...she's smart, she plays Quidditch, she's funny...and...Oh, Harry, she's so bloody fit! Have you seen her hair, it's all dark and shiny and silky...and her eyes? Those beautiful blue eyes...They always sparkle, you know, when she smiles...And her lips...they're so dainty and—"
A part of Harry was nodding to Ron's every word.
"But this is insane!" he exclaimed. "It's Lyn we're talking about. You treat her like a sister! What's got into—?" And then he saw the box lying open on Ron's bed, and the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding troll.
"Ah..." He choked back a laugh and shook his head, thinking fast. "Uh...Lyn — right. She's...she's downstairs! Yes, yes, she's downstairs." He added to himself, "And then we can go visit Slughorn."
Ron nodded passionately and did not hesitate before following Harry down to the common room.
Edelyn beamed. "Happy birthday, Ronnie—!"
Harry didn't register what happened next until it was too late. Edelyn didn't register what happened next until it was too late. In one wild movement, Ron's lips had crashed into hers.
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❛ One-sixty. ❜
published: May 6, 2018
⦅ thank you for reading! ⦆
―hugs, aelizia
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