Crush and Crushed

Lois rolled her eyes at Alina and scribbled something on a notepad.

But she nodded and smiled.

The letters formed large and green on Alina’s parchment. They blinked and danced. Lois’ heart broke at Alina’s new version of excited squealing. On the back of the other chair, the phoenix started chirping, as Woodstock picked up on Alina’s exuberant mood.

‘Here’ was a narrow, half-timbered town-house in Fore Close, one of the courts off the better part of Diagon Alley, close to the premises of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

Lois pointed at the chair on the other side of the table. ‘Sit down. We have to talk.’

Alina’s expression grew wary, but she sat down. Since coming home for the Easter holidays, Alina had been short-tempered and prone to tears. Lois suppressed a sigh. A part of Alina’s moods was due to the normal hormonal changes that all female teenagers endured. (What a timing!) But with nothing to distract her from her new disabilities and unable to leave the house on her own in the Muggle world, Alina was increasingly miserable. And she was taking it out on whoever happened to be present, apart from Woodstock and her jarvey, Cicero. It was clear that Alina’s days in the Muggle world were over.

Lois bent over her notepad. She was almost sure that Alina wouldn’t mind what she was about to write. But not completely. Alina had changed. Understandably. But it was difficult for Lois to reconcile the sulking, silent teenager with the cheerful, chattering child she remembered. She shook herself. Such thoughts wouldn’t help.

Lois wrote.

She hesitated, then continued.

She slid the notepad over to Alina and watched her daughter. To her relief, a huge grin spread over Alina’s face—only to fade a second later. The ubiquitous parchment floated towards Lois. Black ink flowed from the Dictaquill.

‘Oh, darling,’ Lois murmured and reached for the notepad again.

Alina frowned in deep concentration as she tried to read her mother’s lips. Then she exhaled deeply, smiled again and nodded. The Dictaquill scribbled something and ended with a flourish.

Heat suffused Lois’ cheeks.

she wrote quickly.

the Dictaquill wrote. The words blinked, as Alina chuckled silently.

Lois laughed, relief coursing through her. ‘Yes,’ she admitted.

She picked up her pen again.

Alina frowned. ‘Just because of me?’ She was touchy about people going out of their way more than necessary to accommodate her.

‘Yes and no,’ Lois answered. She put the pen to the paper once more.

Alina stared at the notepad for a while, then she nodded, accepting her mother’s honest explanation.

her Dictaquill wrote.

oooOooo

In archival dungeons of the Ministry of Magic Severus scowled at yet another stack of parchments that held no clue concerning the witch hunters of the Holy Inquisition.

‘I hear that Hannah Abbott is seeing Neville Longbottom,’ he remarked abruptly, without looking at the translucent face of the ghost at his side.

Draco sighed. His silvery form seemed to shrink a little.

‘Carrying life, she needs a living person to take care of her now, not a ghost,’ he said resignedly. ‘Someone who can hold her when she cries without giving her goose bumps.’

The silence lengthened.

At last Draco added, ‘But I will get to see my son. That’s worth a lot.’

oooOooo

In a dormitory in Slytherin House, Alina and Geilis lay huddled under a large duvet, the curtains of the four poster pulled tightly shut around them. They were scribbling on a Muggle notepad to the dim light of two wands.

Alina fidgeted uncomfortably.

Geilis wrote without looking at Alina.

She wanted to shake her head violently and deny everything. But her friend knew her too well.

Alina wrote and attempted a wry grin.

Alina buried her head in her pillow. But Gilly poked her into her ribs until she looked at the notepad again.

Alina nodded and impatiently dashed at her overflowing eyes. She pushed her pencil so hard at the pad that its tip broke off. Without a word, Gilly handed Alina her own pen.

Alina wrote.

She hid her face in the pillow once more, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Geilis put her arm around her, murmuring reassuring sounds that Alina couldn’t hear, and held her friend until Alina had fallen asleep.

oooOooo

Severus sat at his desk and stared at a wizarding photograph of Hermione. The picture was exactly a year old that day. It was a picture from their wedding, taken in the Room of Requirement. Hermione was standing in front of a high, Gothic window, a blue summer sky at her back. A gentle breeze was tugging at her curls. She was beautiful in the dress of moss-green velvet that hugged her slender curves.

And her smile was only for him.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10