Chronicles of The Boy Who Lived

***


Chanel didn\'t make it to her room last night. She had every intention on going. Ron had other ideas.

Even after he\'d shocked every bone in her body under his merciless pounding, he had the nerve to blush and bury his face in the crook of her neck, murmuring some apology against her shoulder blade. Chanel was accustomed to the man rolling over in a disgustingly self-satisfied manner and lapsing into a mild coma. Ron asked if she minded if they stayed like this; him collapsed on top of her, his sword slowly withdrawing into its sheath, a softly-thumping pulse coursing through their bodies that was now eerily in sync.

She didn\'t mind. He was abundantly warm and she was feeling unusually drowsy. After a long, quiet moment, he shifted his weight and she blearily blinked into the sudden inky darkness. He had extinguished the lights. She\'d actually fallen asleep.

Ron eased himself from between her aching thighs and laid her gently on her side, molding himself into her so that his back was shielding them from the door. He pulled the thick covers up under their necks and wrapped his arms around her like a warm sweater.

Sometime during the night, he mumbled something and she felt him stiffening against her. His fingers slipped between her legs and found a slickness that told him she was ready. He played there for a moment until was she fully roused from sleep, then entered urgently, calling her name over and over in a strange, plaintive voice.

\"Nel...Nel...\"

This time it was softer. His strokes were longer and his movement purposeful. He firmly gripped her hips, rocking them both in smooth, lulling undulation. She felt as though it were some slow erotically torturous dance; her back trapped against his chest, their perspiration mixed and mingling. Then, in the cover of night, he suddenly shifted his thrust and did something she couldn\'t explain, nearly causing her to explode. Nearly.

She felt the delightful, trembling wreck of his peak, the soft mutter of something against her back that resembled \"Merlin\'s balls.\" He pressed closely and planted a kiss that nearly caught her just below the lobe of her ear. She shifted away just in time, feeling a guilty tingle.

Draco.

Chanel wondered off-handedly if it had ever occured Ron that his bed -- and he himself, for that matter -- was not the quietest. She waited patiently for him to utter a charm to clear away the evidence of their activity, but he seemed content to leave them as they were. His chest was now heaving too solidly and a tell-tale snore was building in his throat. He was properly satiated and now helpless to resist the temptation of sleep.

She carefully slid from and loosely pulled on her discarded clothes, not bothering with the shoes. She knew her hair looked like hell as she crept down the stairs. Charlotte was gone, probably running or downstairs with Mrs. Weasley. It was barely dawn, but it made sense.

The rest of the house seemed quiet enough, so she tried not to disturb them as she silently bathed at the sink, grateful for this moment that the bathrooms remained unenchanted for Tori\'s use. A handy thing it was at times, having a Muggle around.

Chanel barely remembered that she was supposed to be looking out for weird gags or booby-traps, as this was Fred & George\'s room, and just crawled her tired ass into the bed and slipped between the sheets. Maybe since the first time ever, the world went on without her as she caught a rare glimpse of the unconscious beauty of sleep.


***


It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and everyone, save for Chanel and Mrs. Weasley, had spent the day outside. After a big breakfast, the twins had suggested going to visit their shop, which Harry had shot down, somewhat laughingly, but Ron knew better; he had no intention of stepping foot back into the wizarding world, even after five years of being away. His name and image, of course, were still as large as ever, and he had no intention of stoking an ever-present fire.

So instead they had gone outside and resumed their makeshift Quidditch game; Tori had climbed onto the picnic table with her notebook, but it remained unopened as she couldn’t take her eyes of the game. Or the fact that they were in the air – on broomsticks.

After checking on Chanel, Charlotte had joined Tori outside. Around two, Charlotte went inside to help Mrs. Weasley with the twins’ and Ron’s request – lunch. The players had landed and gathered around the table as Tori climbed off and sat down with them.

“See – I knew last night was just luck!” George exclaimed, clapping Ron and Harry on the back. “Good job, gentlemen.”

Ron smiled; well, he’d been smiling a lot since he got up, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Well, if that’s what Ron needs to win a game…” Fred joked.

No one asked what he meant. Ron coughed, slightly red. “I’m just a terrific player,” he retorted.

“That’s right,” Charlie said consolingly, patting his arm.

“So, Tori, what’s it like being around Harry Potter?” Fred asked jokingly, but Harry shot him such a dire look that it uncharacteristically made him cough and add, “I mean, the magic and everything.”

Tori, who had blushed but hadn’t caught the significance of the first question or the look, smiled hesitantly, not wanting to be the center of attention. “It’s, uh, different,” she said, which prompted light laughter from around the table. “But I hadn’t seen any until I got here,” she added, glancing at Harry. “You know, the pots and pans and things were…cooking themselves.”

There was more gentle laughter and she felt slightly warm. “Then it’s time you try riding a broomstick,” George suggested, standing up.

“What?” Tori asked immediately, her eyes wide as Fred grabbed Harry’s Firebolt, which had been resting between them.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked Harry, who smiled.

“No, but I think she does.”

Less than one minute later, Tori found herself standing next to a broomstick which was floating in mid-air, level with her hip, as it had the night before. “What do I do?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Sit on it.” Fred said, his tone amused.

“I know that,” she said shortly, causing a few more smiles. “I meant, how? Do I straddle it, sit side—what?”

Fred and George had just burst into laughter and even Ron was grinning broadly. “Well, Tori,” George managed after a moment, “What did you do with –”

Everyone stopped laughing, even Fred, to listen. No one had any idea what George was talking about. Except for Harry and Tori, who made the connection; their faces flushed. Fortunately for them, the sun was out, however weak, and they didn’t look much different from the rest who’d been out there just as long.

Ginny hit her brother disgustedly. “Stop being such a twit. You can sit however you want,” she told Tori, who had finally looked back at the broom, “but it it’s a bit easier to actually sit on it, not sideways.”

“What were you going to say?” Fred pressed his brother quietly, causing Tori to quickly swing her leg over the waiting broom. She opened her mouth to ask what to do next, but the broom, having felt a weight settle, rose suddenly, and a loud squeal escaped her as her legs were now dangling in the air.

Ron quickly reached out and grasped the front end of the broomstick, preventing it from going any higher. “You can sit up now,” he said nicely, as Tori had immediately flown forward and was lying flat out on the broom, her hands securely gripping the front, inches from Ron’s hand.

Tori was only three feet off the ground, at the most, and she knew she looked stupid. “No, no, I’m fine,” she said. “This is great. Wonderful.” The strange, swooping feeling in her stomach was still there, like being on a roller coaster, but without the security of the shoulder harness.

She was saved from sitting up by Charlotte’s sudden shriek as Fred pulled her onto his broomstick with him and took off around the garden.


***


So it wasn’t much of a surprise that Charlotte went inside with the lunch dishes and did not return. The others went back to their game until Mrs. Weasley called from the open kitchen window.

Inside, a wonderfully loud jangle of copper pots, cast iron pans and small cauldrons were battling in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley smiled at them as they entered; Charlotte threw Fred a dark look and retreated further into the kitchen.

Upstairs, finally letting go of the fringes of deep sleep as the kitchen ruckus and talking built, Chanel blinked in mild confusion at the dusky sky spreading beyond the window. She knotted a simple silk scarf around her head, threw on a casual sweater and some fleece jogging pants and headed downstairs.

“Oy, Chanel! I think you forgot to get up today.” Fred said upon her entrance into the dining area.

George smiled knowingly. “A little tired, are we?”

From behind the twins, Ron watched her settle at the table. Chanel’s eyes flickered toward him before she addressed the twins evenly. “It’s hard work being the boss. So what did we all do today?”

“Tori had a flying lesson,” Fred said, causing Chanel’s eyebrow to go up.

“And so did Charlotte,” George added.

“Fred’s not a great teacher,” Ron snickered, causing Fred’s eyes to narrow. “Neither of them liked it very much.”

“Careful, Ron. Or you’ll find that other things go bump in the night, and they aren’t all good.”

Ron blushed and tried to cover it up by laughing.

“Would they be going bump in the root cellar, I wonder?” Chanel smiled thinly as she settled at the table, and now George’s eyes narrowed as well. He exchanged a look with his brother.

“The only things bumping in the root cellar are the enchanted plants – ”

“And the poor garden gnomes who go and try to eat them.” George finished, causing a burst of laughter from the Weasleys and Harry.

Ginny suddenly smacked her forehead. “We didn’t go to Diagon Alley, Ron; I didn’t get that new The Weird Sisters CD. I know you were trying to give Hermione all her stuff back. You’ll just have to tell her I lost it when I borrowed it from you.”

Heads turned to Ron, whose face showed the passing of a few different emotions before he shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Honestly, you should have just told her that when she stayed over the other night.”

Harry looked at Ron curiously. “Hermione was here?”

Chanel stiffened in her seat. Tori frowned in puzzlement; that name sounded familiar too, but she could tell that now was not the time to ask. Ron looked down at his feet. “She was passing through on her way to her parents, and Mum insisted she stay the night.”

“Did she know we were coming?”

“Yeah, Mum mentioned it. She said to say hi and that she hopes to see you soon.”

Chanel covertly studied Ron for a moment, before snapping her eyes over to Charlotte, who had made her way to the edge of the kitchen, listening to the conversation. Looking trapped, she retreated back into the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley.

“Sounds rather unfriendly that she didn’t stick around to say hi to you herself,” Chanel remarked with measured coolness. “I suppose she stayed over, what, just that night?”

“Don’t know,” Fred answered. “We got here after she’d gone.”

“Mum loves her, though,” George added off-handedly. “Wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d invited her to stay longer.”

Ron glared at his brothers. “It was just the one night. She was going to her parents for the holiday. She left late, Mum ran into her and said she should stay the night and get started in the morning; they were going to France for the week.”

Mrs. Weasley burst in just then, loudly announcing dinner. She was slightly taken aback upon sensing the slight chill in the room. Charlotte hurried in after. “Well, sit,” she said, more cheerfully than necessary.

Slowly, everyone settled warily around the table. Fred and George were talking quietly to themselves, but other than that, no one else spoke. After a few minutes, Harry broke the silence. “Great dinner, Mrs. Weasley. Beats having hotel food all the time.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled appreciatively at Harry, but was watching Ron worriedly. “Yes, I hear Muggle food is awful. Perhaps I might take a bottle of Fred and George’s mysterious black sauce with me after all,” Charlotte commented jokingly.

Chanel sat silently, picking at her food, glancing across the table at Ron, who was staring at his plate, occasionally taking a bite. Ginny jabbed Ron in his side, her mouth stuffed. “’Smatter? You’ve been waiting for Mum’s Gazzarld for weeks!”

Ron threw an exasperated look at Ginny. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m eating, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but there’s still some left. Ginny’s right to be concerned,” Fred quipped, earning some laughter, and Ron even smiled momentarily.

Harry changed the subject. “You should come see us sometime, Ron, make a trip out of it. That’d be great.”

Ron smiled more, looking gratefully at Harry for the diversion. “That would be brilliant; I’ve wanted to come see a concert since I’d heard.”

“And maybe we can make it to one of your games.”

Ron beamed and nodded.

“A Chudley Cannons match? I think we should make a holiday of it,\" Charlotte perked, grinning excitedly.

“Yes,” Chanel said slowly, as if giving this heavy thought. “I know. I\'ll invite Draco and Ron can bring Hermione.”

A sudden and complete silence fell over the table and everyone turned to look at her. Ron’s eyes flickered to her briefly before pushing his chair angrily away from the table and storming through the front door.

“I wondered if that one was mental,” Fred said under his breath, his eyes moving over toward Chanel.

“You think?” George said, just as quietly. “Remember where she was last night?”

Tori, sitting next to George, stifled a gasp. She turned to ask Harry, but he sat stunned, his anger building. Shocked, Ginny absently shoved a forkful of food into her mouth, while Charlotte\'s eyes darted nervously from Chanel to the door.

“Draco Malfoy?” Mrs. Weasley murmured, completely puzzled. “Well, I think it’s completely awful he’s even allowed to spread his filthy propaganda to Muggles. Really, it’s a travesty.” She paused, frowning at Chanel. “You know it’s rumored that he’s been secretly recruiting Death Eaters at his concerts.”

Charlotte leaned in at this news, her mouth agape. Chanel closed her eyes and took a small breath. Harry spoke, slow and controlled. “We didn’t have a choice, Mrs. Weasley. We can keep a better eye on him this way.”

Fred and George got up and left the table. Charlotte leaned toward Charlie and whispered, “Perhaps I should go check on him.”

Charlie glanced at the door and shook his head. “Leave him.” Charlotte started to protest, but Charlie raised his hand gently.

Mrs. Weasley looked around the table at each of them somberly. “Please, all of you, take care. I worry about you all everyday you’re on tour. The son of a Death Eater has no choice but to follow the same path. It’s in his blood,” she said softly, getting up and patting Chanel’s hand before leaving the table.

Under the glare of Harry and the curious looks of Tori and Charlotte, Chanel abruptly stood up and left through the front door. As she neared the Ford Anglia, she could just make out Ron’s body lying underneath it, illuminated by the soft light from his wand. Following every loud bang was an even louder curse word. She squatted down low to the ground, frowning as another bang and an expletive rose from beneath the car.

“I think you said that last night,” she started quietly.

There was a sudden pause which was followed by silence. “Completely different context,” he stated, still under the car.

She felt her face warm slightly, despite the chilly evening air. “Glad to see you’re still talking to me,” she continued softly, but then bit her lip against wanting to say more.

There was more silence, and then a sudden movement as Ron pulled himself out from under the car and turned on his side. He stared at her, his face hot. “For how long is debatable.”

Her breath became stilted and she drew herself up indignantly. “Ron, I –” Already angry, she became angrier at feeling flustered. “I don’t need any favors.”

A strange, slightly pained looked crossed his face. “Is that what last night was? A favor? Fine, I won’t do you any more favors,” he said shortly, tucking his knees under him and standing.

She trembled as she glared up at him, as he was a whole foot taller. “Last night?” she hissed. “I’m talking about what you just now said about speaking to me. ‘For how long is debatable.’ What does that mean? Do you always storm off just because you hear something you don’t like?”

Ron glared right back. “What in Merlin’s name would possess you to utter Malfoy’s name in this house?”

“I’m around Draco all the time. He’s...he’s just another wizard,” Chanel said, quieting, her shoulders shrugging haplessly. “He’s just another act on the bill. He’s…harmless. Mostly.”

“Did you hear my mum? Do you not believe her?” he said angrily, although he had lowered his voice. “Inviting him to a game? That’d be over my dead body.”

She snorted exasperatively, rolling her eyes. “I was being smart-assed when I said that.” Chanel glanced down at her hands, which she suddenly realized she\'d been wringing. She instantly stopped and her tone became very serious. “Yes, I do believe your mother. He is the son of a Death Eater.”

Ron opened his mouth to add something, but when he spoke, there was a slight edge to his voice. “She’s worried about the lot of you, you know, mostly about Harry, but she’s concerned for all of you. Mum always needs something to worry about,” he said, smiling faintly, but then sobered. “But it’s still true.” He slowly took her hands in his. “You need to be careful. Very careful.”

“I am careful,” she said, more firmly than she’d intended. “I\'m the one who has to take care of everything. Tori, Charlotte, even HP, even though he doesn’t want me to,” she laughed shortly, looking up at Ron.

Ron smiled. “Harry’s never liked anyone taking care of him. He’s always been that way.” He pulled her slightly closer to him. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

Chanel barely refrained from rolling her eyes again. “Jeez, you\'re already sounding like someone’s father -- ” she stopped abruptly, nearly clapping a hand over her mouth. \"Sorry, sorry,\" she mumbled.

Ron fell silent as well, and took a step back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I don’t care who I sound like, as long as you do it.”

She took a step forward hesitatingly and reached for his hands. “Your father was one the best, Ron. I’m sure he’d be very proud of you.\"

Ron looked at her. “Thanks. Please just tell me you’ll take care of yourself, too,” he said softly, a pleading note in his voice.

Slapping one hand over her heart, she raised the other in mock pledge. “I solemnly swear that I will take care of myself or may Cornish Pixies attack me in my sleep.”

A snap of cold air whirled between them and she stitched her arms across her body, shivering. Ron forgot for a moment that he was still supposed to be angry, and pressed her softly to his warm chest.

Chanel briefly closed her eyes and inhaled a low, sweet scent that made her shoulders soften as she nuzzled closer. Her mind slowly recalled the same comforting scent last night as she and Ron wound and unwound themselves around each other.

She suddenly pulled back, her eyes dropping to the ground as she aimlessly kicked at the loose gravel. She sense Ron watching her and she looked up, catching his soft, empathic blue eyes. Ron blushed and looked away, exhaling a slow, calming breath.

She watched the wispy tendrils snake into the air. “Letting off some steam?” she asked quietly.

His head snapped back in her direction, his brow raised in surprise. She snorted at his somewhat shocked expression and winked. Ron smiled, allowing a tiny chuckle. Suddenly she felt wobbly and bit her lip as she looked away.

Her eyes came to settle on the Anglia and she swallowed, lightly stamping the ground. Ron frowned questioningly at the car, tilting his head slightly in thought, and then glanced at her. She looked over at him, smiling demurely. An understanding slowly warmed over him and he stared at her, doubly surprised. Her mouth twisted in a smirk.

He glanced off towards the house in serious contemplation. He looked quickly from the car to Chanel and back, his brow creasing. Then she rolled her tongue slowly over her lips.

Ron\'s mouth and body suddenly crashed into hers as he backpedaled both of them clumsily towards the rear of car. He impatiently wrenched the door open and carefully maneuvered them inside without breaking contact.

He gently laid her across the backseat and eagerly yanked his sweater off, smacking his head against the roof in the process. She snickered, and Ron smiled painfully before fixing her with a look and swooping down upon her mouth. Her mouth opened to receive his thick and lashing tongue; she moaned. Ron broke away in surprise at her having emitted a noise. She grabbed him irritably around the neck, demanding he resume his assault.

His lips deftly parted hers, while his fingers worked in frustration at the belt on his jeans. Chanel suddenly rose from lying on her back. Ron rewarded her with a groan, gently trying to push her back. She planted her hands firmly against his chest and pushed. He reluctantly fell back, his eyes cloudy and confused.

Chanel smoothly directed Ron to where she once lay, and slipped between his legs, quickly unbuckling and unzipping his pants before pushing them down from his hips. Ron gasped as his skin came into contact with the frigid air; his hard staff springing forth, his eyes wild and shining.

Not giving him a moment to recover, she plunged his scepter into her warm mouth, grazing it with her teeth, flicking her tongue ring against him. Ron immediately writhed, spewing a large amount of Latin-inspired curses. He whimpered, softly begging her to stop. She laughed throatily, her uvula thrumming against his fullness.

He then gently, but swiftly removed himself, pulling her up into his lap, pushing her pants from her hips, and slid her down his incredible length. She gasped, attempting to adjust herself and accept him in this position. He gently murmured, kissed her cheek and pressed her to the hilt; groaning, he began to rock gently. She moved slowly over him as the discomfort eased and the friction built.

Ron lifted her hips and plunged deeper. Chanel rasped a choice expletive, causing Ron to mumble approvingly and pump faster beneath her. She twisted her fingers in his long locks, her nails raking angry trails of blood across his neck and shoulders.

A humid steam quickly rose within the car, the windows growing slick with the fog of their quick, desperate breaths. Ron called to out her in whispery pants. “Nel...Nel...love you…”

Chanel exploded in a delicious wave, nearly crying out moments before Ron groaned, a strangled breath escaping him as her thick walls squeezed mercilessly; he clutched at her back.

They lay spent in each others arms. The cab was thick with their wild and heady scent. Ron was breathing deeply, nearly asleep. Chanel silently enjoyed the rise and fall of his chest against her back, quietly watching the inky night give way to the strains of dawn.

“Think anyone\'ll notice when we walk through the door?” she murmured.

Ron gently snored in answer.


***


Tori woke up early Saturday morning. Looking at her cellular, she saw that it was barely 6 am. Standing up and stretching, she glanced over at Ginny, who was still asleep in her bed, red hair falling over her face.

She showered quickly, putting on some dark jeans and a long sleeved pale blue top, and pulled her hair loosely back. After rolling up her bag and packing her clothes, she looked around, intending to find her shoes, before remembering that she had kicked them off downstairs last night. She carried her two bags down the stairs. It was peaceful and quiet as she located her shoes, and sat down to put them on.

She heard a sudden creak, and looked up, but all she saw was the door closing. Hmmm... Tori got up and walked to the door, peering out the screen. She could see the front yard and the Ford, but other than that, it was as quiet as it was inside.

From somewhere upstairs, she heard a soft click. Someone else was up. She sat down on the couch and pulled out her notebook, opening to a fresh page and began jotting down some notes that were playing in her head.

Fred and George came down the stairs just then; not noticing Tori in the living room, they sat down at the table with two steaming mugs, and began to talk in low tones.

Outside, Chanel crept stealthily toward the door, pushed it open quietly and slipped in.

She composed herself suddenly as she realized that she had an audience watching from the dining table.

Fred set down his mug of hot tea. “Morning, Chanel.”

“Where’ve you been?” George smirked.

“Out,” she said stiffly. “Walking.”

They caught the sarcasm and cracked identical grins. “Yes, you were outside.”

“And yes, you were walking,” George added.

“Because to get from the car –”

“…which is outside…”

“…to the house…”

“…you have to walk.” George finished, and they both grinned wickedly at her.

“So how was the back seat? Comfortable?” Fred asked.

Chanel’s jaw clenched. She tried desperately to quiet her thudding heart, ignoring the furious burning in her face. “As comfortable as the ride over,” she said carefully, eyeing the movement from the kitchen. Her hair now felt like it was on fire.

Both twins turned suddenly as a pair of pots clanked, they exchanged a look upon realizing their mother was awake. “Good,” Fred said, raising his voice. “He worked really hard to fix up that car.”

George nodded. “Yes, it’s good to know our little brother’s good for something. He’s been spending every free moment on it.”

“Yes, I’d say he’s quite clever with his hands,” she said smoothly, raising her brow sharply at the twins in challenge.

Both of them opened their mouths, a retort on the tip of their tongues, but Mrs. Weasley bustled in and out quickly, waving her wand and leaving while the table began setting itself. Fred and George watched their mother go, strange looks on their faces.

Thundering on the stairs indicated that the rest were up and hungry; Chanel took advantage of the commotion and slipped upstairs as Tori walked in from the living room to see what the noise was about.

***

Upstairs, Charlotte had been busily packing both sets of luggage when Chanel entered, startling her. “Morning, ma’am,” she said brightly as Chanel shut the door.

The hint of a smile appeared on Chanel’s face. “Morning, Charlotte.” She quickly plucked an outfit from her open suitcase and kicked off her shoes.

Charlotte watched her for a moment, then spoke quietly. “You and Mr. Weasley must have had quite a bit of…talking to do.”

Chanel’s head snapped up. Charlotte fell mute as a faint blush rose in her cheeks and she struggled to suppress a grin. Chanel eyes narrowed as she quickly brushed passed Charlotte. “I’ll be in the shower,” she muttered, nearly slamming the door.

Immediately after her exit, Charlotte burst into a fit of giggles.

***

Downstairs, everyone had seated themselves and begun eating. Breakfast was much more cordial; last night’s comments having been all but forgotten. “Ron, you must be feeling better!” Fred said.

“You’re eating!” George said.

Ron, who was eating hungrily, swallowed and smiled. “I go back to training today, need to have some energy.”

Charlotte joined them at the table just then, plopping herself next to Charlie. “Yes, growing boy and all,” she murmured in response to Ron, reaching for a crumpet.

Ron smiled broadly.

“Growing, yes, but if you’re not careful…” Fred started.

“…you’ll be growing sideways,” George said.

There were a few snickers, but Ron continued eating, either ignoring them or oblivious to them. Charlotte finished her crumpet and began stockpiling food onto a separate plate. “I’m making a plate for Ms. Steele,” she said, pointedly looking at Ron. “For when she comes out of the shower.”

Ron adopted a serious look and deadpanned, “Thank you for telling me that.”

Harry grinned at his best friend. “Better to eat out of the shower than in the
shower. Good work, Charlotte.”

There was some more laughter, as Charlotte wrinkled her nose and set the plate down, covering it with a napkin. “Where’s your next stop?” Ginny asked amidst the laughter.
Input text
“Barcelona,” Tori answered.

Ginny’s eyes widened in excitement and then her mouth fell open as she remembered something. Fumbling around in her pockets, she came up with a small envelope. “Here, I almost forgot to give this to you. It came by owl this morning,” she said, handing the envelope to a bewildered Tori.

Came by owl? “Thanks,” Tori replied slowly, taking it and turning it over, as Chanel walked down the stairs, refreshed. The envelope was marked Moscow, Russia. Harry, who had stopped laughing, was now looking at Tori curiously.

Ron said something to Harry about Quidditch, causing him to turn away momentarily. Tori took the opportunity to slip the letter to Chanel, who had taken the empty seat next to her. Chanel looked down at the letter and her mouth opening, but she quickly shut it.

“Well, what’s it say?” Ginny asked nosily. “Are you taking us to Russia for your concert?”

“Russia?” Harry asked, as something started to click in his head.

“No, we’re going to Spain,” Tori said quickly. “It’s probably just paperwork for that. Right?” she asked, turning to Chanel. “Venue setups, hotel info and other boring manager stuff?”

Chanel swallowed. “Right.”

Charlotte’s mind looked quite busy in thought. “Ginny, mind your manners,” Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

“Good,” Tori said. “What time is it?” she asked suddenly.

Harry broke out of his thoughts to look at his watch. “Nearly ten. We better get going, or we’ll miss our flight.”

***

Outside, their things were loaded into the Anglia and everyone started saying their goodbyes. Tori shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand, thanking her for everything, and wound up getting enveloped as a result.

Chanel shook the twins’ hands cautiously. “Fred…George.”

Charlotte smiled brightly at Charlie as she offered her hand. “It’s been great meeting you,” she said, before rushing him with a quick hug and running off to the car before he could react.

Tori watched Charlotte hurry by her, and then she turned back to the twins. “Thanks for not testing anything on me.”

They laughed. “No problem, but next time…” Fred smiled.

“…you’re fair game.” George finished.

Chanel laughed as she shook hands with Charlie, hugged Ginny and said good bye to Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley squeezed her warmly, contemplating something, but then smiled instead as Chanel headed to the car.

Harry hugged Mrs. Weasley, quietly thanking her for everything and promising to take care of himself and keep her updated. Ron slid into the front seat and started the car. Tori opened the back door and slid in, followed by Harry. Charlotte opened the door behind Ron and got in the back seat as well, leaving the front open for Chanel, who hesitated, then got in the passenger side and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

She darted a sideways glance at Ron before quickly looking down at her hands.Ron smiled at Chanel and winked quickly. “Everyone ready?” he asked, before putting the car into gear and taking off.

Charlotte tried valiantly to remain silent, but then leaned forward and said cheerfully, “This car’s handling even better than when I drove it. Did you make some improvements on it last night?”

Ron struggled not to smirk. “Uh, yeah,” he said, looking in the mirror. “I was working on it, letting off some steam.”

Chanel’s eyes widened in alarm, her cheeks stinging. Charlotte relented to a thoroughly satisfied giggle before sitting back. Tori and Harry exchanged a look, but quickly looked away, remembering George and his comment.

They arrived at the airport and hailed a busboy to collect the luggage. Tori shook Ron’s hand. “It was really great to meet you, Ron. I hope you can make it out to one of our concerts.”

“As long as you try to come to one of my matches,” Ron said, pulling her into a quick hug. He started to say something, but decided against it. Fred and George might’ve been pulling one over on him; he wouldn’t put it past them. Still, would they have really made that up? Ron hadn’t really paid attention to how long Harry had supposedly been stealing looks at Tori; he’d been a bit occupied.

Ron shook Charlotte’s hand next. She gave it a hearty pump. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley. I can make those concert arrangements for you post-haste,” she grinned.

“Charlotte,” Chanel growled, causing Charlotte to release his hand and move away.

Ron looked down at Chanel and smiled. With his index finger, he directed her line of vision back to him. “Nel.”

Her heart thundered. “…Y--” she cleared her throat and tried again firmly. “Yes?”

He smirked gently at her reaction. “I really enjoyed seeing you this weekend, and I hope to see you soon. Remember what I said last night.”

Chanel frowned, then leaned forward, speaking softly. “You said quite a bit last night.” She pulled back, looking up at him in earnest.

He quickly caught her waist with one hand and drew her back to him. “I did, but I was talking about the take care of yourself part,” he smiled, leaning closer.

“Oh,” she said lightly, though she shivered under the slight roughness of his touch. “And shall I remember the other things, too?”

Not waiting for his response, she quickly brushed her lips against his and smoothly slipped from his grasp, continuing past the three who were standing, waiting.

There was a pause before Ron turned to Harry. “Good luck, mate, and try to keep in touch better, eh?”

Harry laughed and shook Ron’s hand. “Will do. But I guess we’ll be seeing you?” he asked. Ron smiled and shrugged good-naturedly.

“You never know.”


*******