Chapter Text
CHAPTER 16
Emma's Birthday
EMMA
“Alright, everyone,” Harry says, returning to the front of the room of requirement to the club’s attention, “that’s it for today. Our next meeting won’t be for another two weeks, but keep practicing whenever you can and great work.”
There’s a spattering of applause as everyone starts to collect their stuff from various corners of the room. The Hufflepuffs are first to leave, followed by a majority of the Ravenclaws, minus Luna, who basically skips right up to me.
“Happy birthday, Emma!” Luna chirps. “I made you this.” She hands me a glittery envelope with my name scrawled in beautiful script on the front.
“Oh!” I exclaim awkwardly. “Uh, thank you.” I smile graciously and open the envelope to find a similarly glittery homemade birthday card with a Gryffindor lion on the front. I open the card and find that the inside is enchanted to spell out “Happy Birthday, Emma” in glittery fireworks. “Wow! Did you do this all by hand?” I ask in awe.
“I did! At first, there wasn’t as much glitter, but I was inspired by your prank on the twins,” she says brightly.
“How did you know that was me?”
“It had your aura around it,” she says airly.
I smile at her even though I have no idea what she could possibly mean by that. “Well, thanks, Luna. I love it. You’re quite talented.” I reach forward and give her hand a squeeze, unsure of whether or not she’s a hug person or not.
A few more people start to filter out of the room, Gryffindors this time, all shouting a chorus of “happy birthday” as they leave. I wave thanks then look back at Luna.
“Thank you,” Luna says. “I’m working on something larger scale for the Quidditch match on Saturday, but don’t tell Harry or Ron. I want it to be a surprise. Well, I should be off! See you Saturday!” She flashes another bright smile at me, then skips to the door and disappears through it.
I carefully tuck the card back into the envelope then go to retrieve my bag so I can leave. Looking around the room, the only people left are Harry, Hermione, Neville, the Weasleys, and Lee, which are the people who are usually the last ones to leave. I’m in the process of putting my outer robe on over my uniform when I hear the telltale crack of house-elf apparition behind me.
“Dobby, what are you doing up here?” I hear Harry ask.
I turn and see Dobby and Penny standing in the middle of the room, holding a massive sheet cake.
“Penny tells Dobby–me that it’s Miss Emma’s birthday, so we make her a cake!” Dobby says proudly.
“Who’s Penny?” Harry asks.
“I is Penny, sir!” Penny says proudly. “Emmy tells me all about you, sir. Tis a pleasure to meet you!”
“Emmy?” Harry asks, confused.
“Oh! And you must be Miss Hermione!” Penny says, turning to Hermione. “You is the one making all of the hats! I was already free, but I still appreciate the gesture.” Penny smiles and points to the fuzzy knitted hat tucked over her large ears.
“Oh, you’re welcome!” Hermione says. “I didn’t know any other free elves were working in the kitchen besides Dobby and Winky.”
I shuck my robe again and make my way to the center of the room, where Penny can finally see me as to prevent anyone from saying anything else before I have a chance to explain.
“Emmy!” Penny exclaims, throwing herself at my legs before I can get the chance to crouch down.
“What are you doing up here, Penny?” I ask, crouching down once she finally lets go of my legs.
“Tis my Emmy’s birthday! I wasn’t gonna forget,” she says, taking my hands in hers.
“I know, but usually, I come down to the kitchens on my own,” I remind her. “How did you even know I’d be up here?”
Penny gives me a knowing smile and leans up to whisper in my ear, “New boyfriend came to talk to me. Wanted to surprise you. He’s quite smitten with my Emmy.”
I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks, and I risk a glance at George. He flashes me a small smile.
“Do you know this house-elf, Emma?” Ron asks. “Actually, that’s a stupid question. Obviously, you do. I guess I mean, how do you know this house-elf?”
“I—erm—” I stammer, glancing around the room, not focusing on anyone’s face for too long. My gaze falls on Dobby last, who’s still standing there, holding my cake. “Penny, can you help Dobby with the cake?” I whisper to her.
Penny jumps. “Oh! Right!” she exclaims. She lets go of my hands and runs back over to Dobby. With a wave of her hand, she conjures a table with several plates on it then helps Dobby lift the cake up onto the table.
I take a deep breath then stand up, realizing that it’s time to come clean about my family. I’ve kept it to myself for long enough, and now that Dad has been semi-helping out the Order, the idea that my family history isn’t all that different from the Malfoys or the Blacks might go over smoother than it might have a few years ago.
“So, I haven’t exactly been the most forthcoming about who my family is,” I say tentatively. “I know you all know that my mother was muggle-born, but my dad’s family… Penny is my family’s house-elf. Well, used to be—”
“You have a house-elf?” Hermione asks, her voice on edge.
“Free house-elf, miss,” Penny pipes up, having returned to my side. “Emmy accidentally set me free when she was but little.”
“We’d inherited her from one of my dad’s great aunt or something, and I was so young that I didn’t understand— doesn’t matter. I accidentally set her free, but Dad wanted to keep her on since she wouldn’t have had anywhere else to go. She kind of became my nanny, since Mom was gone and Dad was busy with his Ministry work,” I explain in a rush.
“But you had a choice of whether or not to stay, right, Penny?” Hermione asks, purposefully not looking me in the eye.
“Oh, yes!” Penny says quickly. “Didn’t want to leave little Emmy. Although, not so little anymore,” she teases, looking up at me.
I look down at her and smile, feeling tears start to prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink them away quickly.
“I don’t know, she’s still pretty tiny,” George says quietly in an effort to lighten the mood.
I let out a watery laugh.
“Hang on,” Ron starts, “so if you have a house-elf—”
“Had,” I emphasize.
“Had,” he amends. “That means that your family is loaded.”
I give a weak nod.
“You’re not— You’re one of those MacKenzies?” Ron says, flabbergasted.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. I only kept it hidden because you didn’t figure it out right away, so I thought I could finally get away from my family name.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before,” Ron says, shaking his head.
“That’s because I didn’t want you to make the connection!” I shout at him. “I’m ashamed of that part of my family!”
“So, you’ve just been lying to us,” Ron points out.
“I never lied. I simply didn’t mention anything about my dad’s side of the family because I try to forget that they exist. I talk about my grandparents all the time because they and my dad are the family that matter to me.”
“Can someone explain what’s going on for the non-wizard raised people in the room?” Harry asks, slightly annoyed.
“The MacKenzies are a pure-blood fanatical family, just like the Malfoys, Blacks, Crabbes, Goyles,” Ron lists off. “Slytherins, the lot of them.”
“Ron, I think that’s a little unfair,” Hermione says quietly, finally looking me in the eye.
“Come off it, Ronald,” I spit. “Just because I share a surname with someone that doesn’t mean I share their beliefs. Look at Padfoot for Godric’s sake? His family is much worse than mine, and I didn’t see you grilling him about it all summer.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry give me a surprised look. I feel an instant wave of regret at mentioning Sirius, especially in mixed company. Still, I used his Marauder name, and based on the look on their faces, at least, Neville and Lee had no idea who the hell I was talking about.
“I have no idea who this ‘Padfoot’ person is,” Neville says, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the room (and I see Harry relax slightly at the confirmation that Sirius’ identity was safe). “But Emma has a point, a person’s family name doesn’t dictate who they are as a person. Emma isn’t like any of those families that you mentioned, and if her father married a muggle-born, then clearly he isn’t like them either.”
I drag my gaze away from Ron and look to Neville, who I feel a sudden urge to hug for standing up for me.
“Neville’s right, Ron,” Fred says. “Mum raised us better than to believe in that family name rubbish. So stop being a git. It’s Emma’s birthday for fucks sake.”
“Yea let’s focus on the cake,” George adds.
“Nice rhyme, Georgie. It’s like you’re a poet.”
“And I didn’t even know it.”
A loud laugh escapes my lips, and the twins both shoot me a wink. Bless those boys for being able to lighten a mood.
I stare at Ron for a moment, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything resembling an apology. He ducks his head and mutters something I can’t quite hear, but I don’t bother making him repeat it. I know by now that I can’t make Ron apologize before he’s ready to.
“So, cake?” Lee pipes up, interrupting the awkward silence that had fallen over the room once again.
I laugh and nod. “Cake. But no candles and no singing, because most of you are tone-deaf.”
Everyone laughs in agreement, and Penny and Dobby get to work cutting the cake into slices and passing them around. The room is relatively silent as everyone eats, but I think I partially prefer it that way. It’s better than continuing to discuss my family history.
“Oh!” Hermione exclaims once she’s finished with her slice of cake. “We had a present. Hold on.” She waves her wand, summoning a wrapped box from her bag. “Harry, Ron, and I chipped in.”
The box lands in my hands, and I smile at her. I slowly unwrap the box to find a beautiful, hand-crafted leather cross-body purse. “It’s gorgeous,” I gush, lifting the bag out of the box and bringing it up to my nose. “Oh, and it has that fresh leather smell. I love it, thank you.”
Hermione smiles widely at me before walking over and wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight hug. Whatever momentary anger she held toward me for having a house-elf had clearly dissipated, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.
Over her shoulder, I lock eyes with both Harry and Ron. “Get over here, you gits,” I say, waving them over.
Harry rolls his eyes but walks over to join in on the hug anyway. However, Ron stays put. He flashes an awkward smile at me, though, so I guess that’s something.
After a few moments, Harry and Hermione step away.
“We should probably head back to the common room. It’s nearly curfew,” Hermione says, checking the time on her watch.
“If by ‘nearly’ you mean an hour from now, sure,” Ron jokes.
“We also have rounds tonight, Ron.”
“Oh, yea.”
“You guys go ahead. It’s my turn to make sure the door is concealed,” I say. I lock eyes with George for a split second, wordlessly telling him to find an excuse to be the last one to leave.
“Are you sure? It’s your birthday, after all,” Hermione says.
“Yea, I’m sure. Thank you, though.”
Ron stands awkwardly for a moment then mutters a quiet, “Happy birthday, Emma,” before going to grab his bag and disappearing out of the door with Hermione.
I say thank you and goodbye to Penny and Dobby while the rest of the room clears out until finally, it’s only George and me left. The moment Fred and Lee slip through the door into the corridor, I’m on George, flinging my arms around his neck and kissing him hard. His arms curl reflexively around my waist, holding me close as his lips move fervently against mine.
“Hmmmm,” George murmurs against my lips once we finally pull apart. “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”
“For lightening the mood.”
He pulls away more fully to look me in the eye, his hand coming to cradle my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I forgot that people didn’t know about Penny. I didn’t mean to bring up your whole family history.”
“It’s ok. It had to come out sometime. With the impending war, it was going to just get harder hiding it,” I say with a sigh.
“Still, I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”
“You did not ruin my birthday,” I insist. “You surprised me with cake, which was incredibly sweet of you, so thank you.”
“I wish I could take full credit for it, but Fred gave me the idea,” he admits.
“Really?” I blurt out. “I thought he was still whining about me vandalizing his beloved broom with yarn.”
“Oh, I think he’s still planning a way to pay you back,” George warns playfully, “but he put those plans on hold for your birthday. He wouldn’t say it out loud, and he has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but he cares about you quite a bit, I think.”
I smile at that and make a mental note to thank Fred later, both for helping George come up with my birthday surprise and for putting Ron in his place. “Yea, I care about that lovable muppet, too,” I grumble good-naturedly.
George grins at me.
“What?”
“I just like seeing my family and my girlfriend bonding,” he says, kissing my forehead.
Now it’s my turn to grin. “Am I officially your girlfriend now?” I tease.
George’s cheeks flush. “Oh, I— I mean, I don’t have to— if you don’t think we’re there yet—” he stammers.
I giggle and cut him off with a kiss. “It would be a shame if you didn’t start calling me your girlfriend because I was rather looking forward to calling you my boyfriend.”
“Yea?” he whispers, bringing his forehead to rest against mine.
I hum in agreement.
“So does that mean you’re ready to tell people about us?”
“I think so,” I whisper nervously. “Are you?”
He kisses me firmly and enthusiastically, which gives me the answer I needed. “How should we go about it?”
“I don’t know that I want to just sit everyone down to tell them,” I muse aloud. “Maybe we can just stop sneaking around, so they figure it out on their own?”
“So, I’ll just snog you in the middle of breakfast, and that’ll be that? Not to be a downer, but that’s kind of what happened today, and you saw how that went over.”
“Ok, I see your point.” I roll my eyes. “It would probably go over better if we sat everyone down and told them. Ron’s already hates me enough for lying.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” George insists. “He’s just—”
“Stubborn?” I finish.
“To be fair, so are you,” he teases.
I open my mouth to protest, but he pacifies me with a drawn-out kiss. “You can’t always shut me up by kissing me, you know,” I murmur lazily against his lips.
“Can’t I, though?” he replies cheekily.
I grumble noncommittally and kiss him again, because I can’t help it, before pulling away and lowering back down off my tiptoes. My calves groan in relief. Part of me wishes he wasn’t as tall as he is, but only a small part. I were any taller, or he were any shorter, the way I fit in his arms just wouldn’t work as well. There’s just something anice about being able to rest my head on his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around me. It’s comforting.
“So, when do you want to tell everyone?” I ask.
“Let’s wait until after this Saturday’s match. Ron is nervous enough as it is, and I don’t want anything rattling him anymore,”a George says.
“Do you think he’s going to take it badly?”
“No,” George reaches up to cup my cheek then runs his thumb over my bottom lip, which gets me to stop nervously chewing on it. “But, I think he will probably be a little shocked, so I feel like it’s better to be safe. Is that ok?”
“Yea, it makes sense. Besides, that gives him time to stop being mad at me.”
“Sweets…”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m just annoyed—”
“I’m sorry—”
“At him,” I finish. “I’m annoyed at him. Not at you. But it’s ok. We’ll both cool off in a few days. Let’s just get back to the common room before anyone realizes we’re missing. It’s almost curfew.”
“Wait, I almost forgot!” George exclaims. “I got you a birthday present. Hang on.” He pecks a kiss on my forehead before dashing to the corner where he had stashed his school bag. He returns a moment later with a poorly wrapped package, which he thrusts into my hands excitedly.
“You didn’t need to get me anything,” I coo.
“I know. Wanted to, though,” he says, smiling.
“But, you’re trying to save money for the shop.”
“Fred and I have money coming in. Besides, we’ve also got all of that start-up gold from Harry’s Triwizard Tournament winnings—”
“Harry gave you two his tournament winnings?” I gasp. He never told me that.
“Yea, so don’t worry about it. I’ve got some pocket money for the first time I can remember and someone I can spend it on.” He bends down and places a kiss on my cheek. “Let me spoil my girlfriend on her birthday.”
I smile up at him then start to unwrap the package. I let the paper fall to the ground, which George promptly vanishes, and look down at the vintage muggle polaroid camera in my hands.
“It’s enchanted to develop moving pictures instantly rather than having to use the special potions that normally make photos move,” George explains.
“I’ve always wanted a camera,” I say, beaming up at him. “I just always forget to mention it to Dad when he asks for my Christmas list.”
“So you like it, then?” he asks nervously.
“I love it.” I lift to my toes, bring my hand to cup the side of his neck, and brush my lips against his. “Thanks, Georgie.”
“Mmmm. I like it when you call me that.”
“Hmm?”
“‘Georgie,’” he kisses me quickly, “I’ve never had anyone besides my family call me that.”
“Oh.” I blush slightly. “I hadn’t even realized I was,” I admit. When did I even start calling him that?
“It’s nice.”
“So is there film in here?” I ask after a beat.
“There is.”
“Shall we take a photo then?” I ask, hopefully.
“Yea, alright,” he says with a grin.
I smile and turn to face away from him. “Stand behind me so I can try to get both of us in the frame,” I instruct him.
He steps up close behind me then wraps his arms around my waist, bending slightly so bring his face closer to mine.
I smile to myself and lift the camera up, using the lens’s reflection to check that we’re in the frame. “Ready?” I see his reflection nod, so I press the shutter down.
Just as the flash goes off, George squeezes my waist and plops a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“George!” I say with a laugh, looking at him over my shoulder. “It probably came out all shaky now.”
“Maybe not, let’s see,” he says. He plucks the polaroid out of the developer’s slot at the top of the camera and wiggles it like a fan for a few moments.
“Does that actually help it develop?” I ask skeptically.
He shrugs. “No idea. But I saw a muggle doing it in an illustration in my muggle studies book, and they’d know, right?” After about half a minute, the photo fully develops. George holds it up for us to look at. “Look at that, we’re adorable.”
In the small square photo, playing on a loop is a scene of George and me smiling, him kissing me on the cheek, and me laughing. He’s right. We are cute together.