Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
Homecoming at Grimmauld Place
EMMA
Emma,
Of course. I haven't seen you all summer because you've been God-knows-where, and now I don't even get to see you before the train to school. But it's probably just as well that you won't be going to Diagon Alley at the same time as me this time. It took long enough to convince mum to let me go back to school this year, the last thing I need is to run into Potter when I'm with her. And I know you would be going to Diagon Alley with him. You always do. You've always taken his side over mine. I don't know why I bother expecting anything different from you.
I just wish you would even TRY to see things from my end. The Emma that I know and love is brilliant and sees through anyone's lies. I guess except for Potter's.
I'm starting to wonder if you still even care about me.
If you ever did.
But whatever, I guess I'll see you on the train. Unless you sit with Potter.
Who am I kidding? Of course, you're going to.
Seamus
I sit cross-legged on my bed, re-reading the letter for the third time trying to figure out how to respond to my boyfriend. I've said every possible combination of things to try to make him not be jealous of my friendship with Harry, but nothing seems to work. Not anymore, anyway.
There was once a time where he would have believed me. A time where he wasn't so blatantly jealous over my friendship with Harry. A little jealous, sure. I mean, most people in Gryffindor think that Harry and I would or should get together. But it's not like that between us. Harry is like a brother to me. The brother I wish I had instead of the one I do have. But that aside, I've only had eyes for Seamus since our third year.
Seamus and I'd been partnered together for Divination class. Because I love the subject and was very good at it and Seamus was not, we started spending more time with each other outside of class, too. We became close. I told him things I'd never told anyone else before. Not even to Harry or Hermione, who were and still are some of my closest confidants.
I liked him. And I knew he felt the same way about me. But yet, he didn't do anything about it. He was so convinced that he couldn't compete against 'the boy who lived' that he couldn't take a hint. Even after I spent part of the summer with him because he had invited me to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him and Dean. I'd gotten the same invite from Ron, but I went with Seamus instead, at least. And he still didn't get the hint when I turned Harry down for going to the Yule Ball last year. So, I finally had to just pluck up the courage to ask him to the dance myself, making it clear that I didn't want to go as 'just friends.'
And we've been together ever since.
I set the letter down next to me, then bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Ron and Hermione are in the back corner of the room, sitting in two of the three oversized and very worn armchairs by the fireplace, bickering back and forth like they have been almost the entire summer.
"Ron, I still can't believe you haven't started on your summer work at all!" Hermione says, slamming the book in her lap shut.
"I've got plenty of time, mum," Ron says sarcastically.
"This year is our O.W.L.s, you have to—"
"I swear to God, Hermione if I hear you mention the O.W.L.s one more time before—"
I'm just about to turn around to tell them to knock it off when the door opens. "Harry!" I shout, jumping off the bed and bounding across the room in four steps.
The bickering behind me stops as I throw my arms tightly around Harry's neck. I guess Harry grew a few more inches over the summer since I'm just barely resting on tiptoes to reach him properly.
"Harry!" Hermione shouts, throwing her arms around Harry as well, not bothering to wait for me to let go of him.
Harry grunts and drops his rucksack on the floor to hug Hermione and me back, or at least that's what I assume. Except, no. He brings his hands up and wedges them between him and Hermione and me to push us away. Rather forcefully, I might add.
Hermione instantly lets go and takes a step back, but I don't. I loosen my grip slightly, just enough to look at his face. He looks pissed.
I drop my arms and take a small step back, watching Harry's face intently.
His gaze moves to Ron, who just gives him an awkward nod.
"Oh, Harry, we were so worried when we heard. They can't expel you. They just can't," Hermione says in a rush.
"You couldn't have put any of this in a letter?" Harry spits, gesturing around the room. "I've gone the entire summer without a scrap of news; meanwhile, you guys were all together in… whatever this place is."
"We wanted to. We really did—" I say, reaching my hand out to touch his arm. He rips his arm away from me and glares.
"I mean, honestly, Hermione, did you honestly think that a four-page letter about our fascinating summer work would distract me from the fact that you weren't giving me any updates?"
"Harry, please," Hermione pleads, her voice wavering from being on the verge of tears.
"No, Hermione," I snap. "Just because he's upset, doesn't mean he gets to act like a jerk." I glare at Harry. He should know by now that I don't deal with his moods. "Now you look here, we gave you whatever news we possibly could. But there were certain things we couldn't tell you. We couldn't put it into writing without risking exposure. We will explain what we can, I promise. But first, you're gonna have to stop being such a tosser. It's not like we were ignoring you. You made sure of that." I hold up my hands, which are covered in peck marks from Hedwig.
Harry blows out a long breath as he looks from me, to Hermione, then to Ron, before looking back at me. His shoulders relax slightly, and I know he's calmed down at least a little. Not enough for him to apologize, but I'll take it.
"Come on, mate. Let's sit," Ron says carefully, gesturing at the three chairs by the fireplace.
Ron and Hermione take their normal seats, and I perch myself on the arm of Ron's chair so that Harry can sit in my normal chair.
Harry stares at us all for a moment before finally opening his mouth to speak. "So what exactly is this place? And what is the Order?"
I'm about to answer when there's a faint crack behind me.
"Oi, did I just hear MacKenzie reaming someone out?" George asks from behind me.
I jump, nearly falling over from my perch on the arm of the chair.
"Oh, sorry MacKenzie, did we scare you?" Fred teases just before I whirl around and smack the nearest twin square in the stomach, which happens to be him.
"Oof. That actually hurt."
"Will you stop doing that?" I hiss, punctuating each word with another swipe at the twins, who wisely take a step back.
George flashes me a devilish grin and a wink before turning to Harry. "Wotcher, Harry! Was it you she was screaming at?"
"I wasn't screaming," I protest.
"Oh, of course, you weren't," Fred says, plopping down onto the bed closest to our informal seating area.
"It's not like we couldn't hear you all the way from upstairs," George continues, sitting next to Fred.
"I was simply trying to get Harry to understand that there was a reason we couldn't tell him anything about the Order." I cross my arms defensively.
"She's right, mate. We were sworn to secrecy."
"But, we can fill you in now. We've been spying on the meetings all summer," Fred says.
"Extendable ears. Just invented them," George says, pulling a pair of giant fake ears out of his pocket.
Harry looks at the twins with admiration.
You have to admit they really are brilliant.
"What do you want to know, Harry?" Hermione asks.
Over the next 30 minutes, we all fill him in on as much as we can: about what the Order of the Phoenix is, how Voldemort may be trying to recruit new members but we aren't sure how, that Bill is working an office job at Gringotts and has been spending a lot of time with Fleur Delacour, that Charlie is part of the Order from Romania.
As we're filling him in, I notice George glance down at my letter from Seamus out of the corner of my eye. I hadn't even folded it up. I made no effort to hide it at all. Great. Just what I need. I hadn't really told anyone that we were having problems other than Hermione, and I swore her to secrecy. But now George knows.
I feel his eyes on me, and I brace myself for the question about Seamus, but it never comes. I let myself lock eyes with George briefly and notice the softness in them.
"What about Percy?" Harry asks.
I glance back at Harry as the room falls silent. Ron, George, and Fred all share a look then stare down at the floor.
I lay a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. "There was a falling out."
"Falling out is one way to put it," Fred scoffs. "He screamed at Dad for being skeptical about being promoted for Fudge's assistant so young, especially after that competency hearing after what happened with Crouch. Dad suggested that Fudge only hired him to spy on the family, and Percy lost it."
"Mum's torn up about it. Probably best not to mention him around her," George mutters.
The room falls into silence again until the door opens.
"Harry! You made it. Why did none of you let me know he was here?" Ginny says as she makes her way over to Harry.
"Does this mean dinner's ready?" Ron asks, hopefully.
Ginny shakes her head. "No, the meeting is still going on. There must have been something big that happened because they've been in there forever."
Fred looks at Harry mischievously. "Hey, want to give our new invention a try to see if we can hear anything?"
Harry perks up. "Duh."
Everyone gets up and starts to head for the door except for George. I hurry over to my bed and pick up the letter, fold it, and begin to fiddle with it in my hands.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—" George starts to say.
"No, I left it out where anyone could see it. Don't worry about it," I say, waving a hand dismissively.
George gets up and starts to walk toward the door as I sit back on my bed, cross-legged. "You coming?"
I shake my head. "Go ahead. I should probably write Seamus back. Don't want things getting any worse." I stare down at the letter in my lap, expecting to hear the door open and close again, signaling that George has left, but instead, I feel him sit next to me. I look up, startled.
"Are you ok?" he asks.
I stare blankly at him for a moment. Since when did George and I have heart-to-hearts? I plaster on a fake smile. "Oh, yea. Just peachy."
He tilts his head to the side at my tone, which came out a lot more sarcastic than I had meant.
"Sorry, that didn't come out how I meant it. Don't worry, everything's fine. It's nothing that I can't handle. I'm used to it. Really."
"Used to it? So, he's always been a complete prat to you?"
Dammit, that is also not how I meant it.
"No, he's not— I mean, yes, right now he's a bit of a prat, but he wasn't always like this," I say in a rush to backpedal a bit. "He used to be… sweet. And kind. And…" I trail off and look down at my hands.
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see George reach his hand out to touch mine, but then he pulls away. "It doesn't matter how he used to be if this is how he's acting right now, Emma. You don't deserve that. You deserve someone who cares. Someone who can make you laugh. Someone who knows how amazing you are."
He's right. Of course, he's right. Hermione has been saying the same thing for the past month. Except, I expect her to say those things. She's my best friend. It's different coming from George.