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ONE (BLOW 'EM AWAY)

ONE MORE TIME

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       STORIES HAVE NO START, Holly Lippincott is beginning to realise. Whilst one tale may have a natural place to begin explaining, there is no true beginning. There's always a cultivation of prologues, epigraphs, footnotes explaining different moments, the ways others act in certain situations. Whilst Holly's story seems to start on the 29th August 1980, the day she was born, it doesn't necessarily begin there. Once you factor in the tragedy of her mother that took place before her birth, or the inspiring tale of a boy determined to prove himself and become a surgeon (albeit the sort that slices people apart, stitching and tucking to make the client look younger) you have two possibilities...

       But then you think about every other person that's featured in her tale. Friends, relatives, even that random man in the Florence airport that tapped Holly on the shoulder when she was seven, saying she had dropped her teddy bear. Thousands of possibilities crop up as to the beginning, and the truth becomes this — a story never has a single start, just an easy place to start.

       In more recent weeks, this has been applied to something else, an annoying little phrase that stemmed from what her school's headmaster said last year. Right, or easy? When she first heard her headmaster propose the idea, of choosing between the two, Holly felt as though there was only one way to view it. To her, there was one concrete path of choosing right, and that meant confidently stating the fact that she thought Lord Voldemort was an evil man and should be stopped, not helped. Her best friend Pansy, however, thinks that right is staying safe, looking out for the people she cares for. Her mother, Margo Valen, thinks a little similarly to Pansy, only, Margo Valen went full-force in her idea of this, choosing to move the world to keep one little person safe, who cared what happened to anyone else.

       And then there's her father.

       Augustus Lippincott, no matter how much he denies it, is the greatest person Holly has ever met. She might be a little biased, what with him being her father, but that's her honest opinion. At aged eighteen he packed his bag, swapping his bedroom in Los Angeles to a dorm in London, and five years later, he was told he was going to have a daughter. Every so often Holly brings this up, reminding him how difficult it must've been for him, and every time he shrugs it off, and gives her a little smile and says something sappy like, "I wouldn't have changed it for the world," or, "I did what was gonna be best for you, in the long run."

       So now, Holly's hit a conundrum.

       Holly Lippincott likes to think she's a little defiant. It has taken years upon years for this fact to be agreed upon, thousands of tiny little tests trying to figure out whether or not little Holliday dearest would choose right or easy. Durmstrang laid the foundations, where she was forced to perform the Dark Arts in order to survive in the nightmarish school — and then she joined Hogwarts, a school that encouraged her to realise the truth, to encourage her to the right thing.

       And now, as she lies on her bed, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed, she cannot shake the thought from her head. She remembers when she attended Durmstrang, when she refused to curse that one last girl in detention and she was sent to her own detention, made to write I must not defy with a bloodquill. But the thing is this — Holly's seen a lot over the past few years. She doesn't want to sit back whilst others are in danger...

       But then, she thinks about the other thing. How right or easy changes from person to person. And she hears her dad's footsteps ascend the stairs and walk down the corridor to her bedroom. He sniffs, as if he's been crying, and Holly sits upright. Her heart's already beginning to sink; she thinks she knows what this means, and she hates it.

       "Hey," says Gus, as he walks into her room. He closes the door behind him, and wipes his nose again, before sitting down on her bed next to her. She frowns at him, and he tries his best to smile. "I know we've sorta left you hanging up here..."

       This is an understatement. The alarm clock in her bedroom said 6:43PM when she was told to go upstairs by her dad, once he and his husband Eugene realised that Holly's mother, a woman that's meant to be in prison, was standing on the doorstep. Now, the alarm clock reads 5:05AM, and although Holly's exhausted, she didn't want to sleep, just in case she was finally retrieved to be told what was going on, why her mother's here.

       "I wanted to tell you," he says. "I know Eugene's been with us for years now, and you're pretty close with the guy your mom married—" Holly tilts her head. "Oh, yeah, he's downstairs now, too, I think he got here around two... Anyway..." Gus gives her a weak smile. Holly feels her stomach twist into knots. "It's always been you and me, hasn't it? I'm not undermining what your mom did before you were born, but you get what I mean, right? I've been looking after you your entire life, I know you more than all of them combined. I want to tell you what's happening, no interruptions."

       Holly nods.

       "Your mom escaped Azkaban around Christmas, but she — well, she killed a guy, Transigured them to make him look like her so they thought she was dead and he was gone, and she got out in the shape of a cat. What's the word, Animagus?"

        "Yeah," says Holly.

       "After that she went to Malfoy Manor, to figure the rest out. And to be honest, none of that's important," says Gus. Holly nods again. She doesn't want to speak, other than the occasional yeah to show she's listening. "She said she wanted to speak to you, to finally meet you, but she had no choice but to visit tonight — last night, I mean.

       "Everything with You-Know-Who has made things worse, apparently. Now that everyone knows he's back, the Death Eaters are beginning to cause chaos whenever possible — she says that, soon, they'll turn to going after muggleborns, after their families."

       Holly can feel her heart crack. Please don't say it.

       "And—And if they learn that I'm a muggle, you won't be safe anymore," says Gus. He looks into her eyes as he says this, and she can see that they're the slightest bit red. She hates this. She already wants to cry and hug her dad and never let go. "So the safest thing for you is to stay with your mom and her husband, whilst me and Eugene move away."

       Stories have no start, she reminds herself, and she remembers the pictures all around her grandparents' house in Hollywood, with pictures of a boy with a dazzling smile and big dreams. She knows that the right thing, for her, is to refuse, to be defiant, to shake her head and say that she was not going to leave this house, they can't make her. But for her dad, it's this. Keeping her safe. And staying with her mother will do this — and it will keep her dad safe. Even if the Death Eaters don't realise he's her father, what if they target muggles randomly, and kill him? She can't lose her dad. She'd lose her soul.

       "OK," says Holly, quietly.

       She wishes she doesn't have to. By the look on her dad's face he doesn't expect her to be that quick to agree — especially considering last year, she (admittedly) threw countless tantrums because the Order of the Phoenix told him it was safest to let her stay at Grimmauld Place. She doesn't want to accept this, but what if she fights against this, and her dad gets hurt? She's never thought of this until now, the possibility of the Death Eaters going after her father because he's a muggle. But it terrifies her. And yeah, she knows it isn't the right thing to do, but she has to make an exception here — for her father's sake, who looks like he hates this as much as she does. It makes this better for him, if she doesn't argue. It'll hurt less.

       "It won't be forever," says Gus. She can feel tears forming in her eyes, everything becoming a little bit blurry. She tries to blink them away, but she can't stop them. "Once this blows over, me and Eugene will be back — and we can go away on a big, fancy holiday if you want. Or we can stay here, and we can finally meet your friends properly. But for now... Eugene's sister lives in Greece, we're going to stay with her."

       Holly begins to say "I'll miss you," but she attempts to speak and she bursts into tears. Gus moves closer and pulls her into a hug, and Holly, who had been sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, sort-of sits with her legs to her chest and her dad's arms cradling her. And she weeps. She cries and she cries and she knows this is just as bad as fighting against it, this will break her dad's heart too, but she can't stop this. She can choose to not defy, but she can't choose to feel completely and utterly drowned in sadness because she isn't going to see her dad anymore.

       She doesn't know how long this war will be. She doesn't know when she'll see her dad again. She can't help but cry over the uncertainty.

       "It'll be fine, OK?" says Gus, hugging her still. She's still crying, but it's not as hysteric as it was originally. "You're going to get through this war alive. I know it's hard now, and it's going to be difficult for a while, but you're strong enough to do this. You've gone through so much, Hol, and I'm so proud of how well you've gotten through everything. Blow 'em away, one more time, yeah?"

       "Yeah," says Holly, and she smiles. She uses her sleeve to wipe her nose, and she messily attempts to do the same with the tears that had fallen down her face. Her mascara's probably in ruins... She should've taken it off hours ago...

       One more time. She can do that. She can do this. She's got her dad's love and support, even if he's miles and miles away, even if there may be years until they see each other again. That's all she needs to feel a little better, to stand up, to clean her face of any tell-tale signs of manic sobbing, to walk downstairs and into the kitchen, where Eugene is drinking a cup of tea and Margo and Atticus are frowning at each other.

       "Holliday, dearest..."

       One more time, she reminds herself, and she packs her bags and hollows the house of her soul. She removes her mugs from the cupboard — her mother says it's just to be safe, but Holly mostly does it so she has something of her home (she takes a couple of her parents' mugs, too, to remember them, she doesn't care if it's "dangerous," it's a fucking mug) — and her shoes from the cupboard under the stairs.

       One more time, she tells herself, as she takes one last shower at home, changing into black jeans and a grey vest-top. She pauses before going back downstairs, taking in her home one final time, before she descends the stairs, tells her mother and Atticus that she's ready to go. She hugs Gus and Eugene one final time, and she holds back tears, and she leaves home.

      One more time...

✧

       THERE IS ONE UPSIDE to the mess her life has become, and it is this: her mother, apparently very trusted by Voldemort, did some talking and now the Death Eaters believe that Holly is only pretending to like Harry and his friends. Holly hates the circumstances, but you know what? She's already lost her dad, and her step-dad. She'd be a little pissed off if they forced her to dump her boyfriend as well.

       "We've got to pretend, or else we're dead," her mother had said when they arrived at her childhood home, a small stately home on the outskirts of a seaside town. The exterior's painted white like her home is, only over the years, the outside of this home has aged a little, ivy covering parts of the walls. It's still nice, it just isn't her home. "I know it's difficult for you, baby, but we'll survive this together."

       The Valen House has one house-elf, called Buttercup, a friendly little thing that jumps up and down when the three arrive in the foyer. She hugs Margo's leg and bounces around the place, excitedly explaining how she's kept the inside of the house in pristine condition for the past fifteen years. And you can tell she has been — whilst the outside is growing ivy, the inside is clean, all white walls and glossy wooden floors. Holly's new bedroom looks like a suite in a fancy countryside hotel, the sort you stay in when you go to weddings... She spends her second day making the room hers.

       Margo Valen is a very smart woman, Holly thinks. She knows a lot about the world, and speaks with wisdom laced in her voice. Sometimes she mentions muggles, especially jazz singers. Her mother has an infatuation for Billie Holiday.

       She also loves the muggle book The Great Gatsby, and Holly's seen her reading it a couple times since the start of the summer holidays. One evening Holly pointed it out, and said that she liked the book, too. Her mother smiled and asked what her favourite book was, and Holly shrugged. "I love too many to know that!" she had said, and laughed. "But... I suppose, Frankenstein, and obviously Breakfast at Tiffanys, that's my grandma's favourite book, that's why I'm called Holly."

       "Oh, wow," her mother said, and then she asked if she could borrow Holly's copy of both novels. Holly smiled and nodded.

       But, the freedom to see her other friends is a weight off of Holly's shoulders, if she's being honest. Two weeks into the holidays, Holly's position as British Youth representative at the Wizengamot begins, and both Margo and Atticus cannot exactly walk her to the Ministry, both are meant to be dead, and if not, they're meant to be in prison.

       So she's taking up Ron's offer: "Harry and Hermione sometimes stay at the Burrow with my family in the summer — you can visit, if you'd like!"

       "Be careful what you say, Holliday," says Margo, cupping Holly's face and drawing her closer, to kiss the top of her head. Atticus gives Holly a smile. "Just because they're your friends doesn't mean the worst can happen..."

       "They won't tell anyone," says Holly.

       "But still," says Margo.

       There's a list in Holly's mind, of what she can and can't tell her friends. She's allowed to tell them that she's staying with her mother and Atticus — her mother said, "If they tell anyone, they'll die, and I suppose they don't want that," which Holly isn't exactly keen on, but hey, it means that her mother can meet her friends and pick her up tomorrow. Like her dad would do. She misses him...

       Holly nods, and she smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow, then — the hearing's meant to be finished by lunch, but Mrs Weasley said I could stay at theirs for dinner afterwards. It should be dark around then, they won't tell anyone if you pick me up..."

       Margo nods. "Will do," she says, and then she pulls Holly into another hug. "I love you very much, Holliday."

       Holly wishes she'd call her Holly, not Holliday.

       "I love you more," says Holly.

       Margo kisses the top of Holly's head. "I love you most."

       Holly steps backwards, picking up her overnight bag.

       "Have fun," says Atticus.

       Holly grins at him.

       She uses the Floo Network to travel to the Burrow, having been reassured by her mother that the Death Eaters have ensured that the Ministry won't track the fireplaces in the Valen House. Holly blinks and she's no longer standing opposite Margo and Atticus, but rather, standing in the fireplace of a kitchen.

       "Oh, you're here!"

       Holly steps out of the fireplace (this never sounds normal) and Hermione gives her a hug. She steps backwards, and Holly smiles at Ron. "Thanks for letting me stay," she tells him. "When does your dad get back? I want to say thanks, that he's willing to take me to the Ministry tomorrow..."

       "He isn't back until late," says Ron. "But Harry's arriving tomorrow morning — you might catch him before you leave!"

       Holly's smile grows a little.

       "So how have your holidays been so far?" asks Holly, once she's said hello to Mrs Weasley and thanked her, too. Ron and Hermione start walking up the stairs, to show her the room she's going to stay in, along with Hermione and Ginny. Holly's excited. She loves sleepovers.

       "All right, I guess," says Ron.

       "Have you been reading the Prophet?" asks Hermione.

       Holly nods. "Yeah, but Mother says that there's no point believing what they say," she explains, and very quickly remembers she hasn't dropped that bombshell. She fills them in on the whole thing. "But anyway. Mother says the Prophet hasn't said anything true since the day it began."

       Hermione frowns. "Is she — is she nice?"

       "Super nice," says Holly. But I miss my dad.

       Blow 'em away, one more time, she reminds herself. If she gets through this war, then all of this will be over. There'll still be prejudice, sure, but there won't be Voldemort, and there won't be the danger of what they Death Eaters would do, if they found out the truth.

       Hermione opens the door into Ginny's bedroom, and Ginny, who's sitting on her bed with the Prophet in her hands, stands up. She smiles at Holly. "You're here!" she says.

       "I am!" says Holly, and she grins at Ginny. She glances around at her bedroom, a pleasant smile on her face. "I love your bedroom — I love the Burrow. It's so nice here."

       "It's a little cramped, though," says Ron, shrugging his shoulders. "But it's home."

       Holly misses her home. She thinks that the Valen House is pretty, but she doesn't like it there (she doesn't think so, at least.) You can tell that it's only been inhabited by a lonely house-elf for the past fifteen years and eleven months. There isn't any part of the house that feels as though a family lives there, it's just this prettily decorated stately home next to the seaside. The wallpaper may be nice but that doesn't make up for the coldness, the lack of soul.

       She stands in Ginny's bedroom holding onto her overnight bag, enchanted to be larger on the inside so that she wouldn't struggle shoving in the Wizengamot plum robes, the pretty suit she bought to wear underneath, her pyjamas, and toiletries. Half her wealth has gone into her makeup, she would cry if she accidentally broke any of it.

       The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent downstairs, eating dinner inside due to the mist that's been covering the country for the past couple weeks. Around ten they're told to go upstairs to bed, which Holly knows actually means you can stay up as long as you keep the noise down. So she follows Ginny and Hermione upstairs, saying good-night to Ron as he leaves them to go into his bedroom, a little excited. She loves sleepovers.

      "Well then," says Holly, once the three have changed into their pyjamas. She's wearing one of her old Slytherin Quidditch team jumpers and black leggings; normally she wears her dad's old t-shirts to sleep in the summer, but since she's been made to get rid of all of them (most of them have muggle references on them — her favourite was a tattered Harley-Davidson one) she's stuck with finding other old items of clothing to use, so she can save her nice pyjamas for school.

       (She's realised that the excuse "Oh, I was going to the toilet..." wouldn't work as smoothly if she was wearing something that could be worn in the daytime — but also, come on, she was meeting up with someone she fancied, 'course she's going to try and look nice.)

       "What do you lot do at sleepovers?" she asks the two girls.

       "Not much, really," says Ginny.

       Hermione nods. "Normally we stay downstairs, like we have done, and then go to bed when we're told."

       "And you... go to sleep?" asks Holly, her eyes widening in horror.

       Hermione and Ginny nod. Holly, in complete shock. She feels like they've all been robbed of something. Harry and Hermione have been spending part of their summer at the Burrow for years now, and they've never had a proper sleepover? Holly's known her friends for almost two full years and they've had endless. They're therapeutic, good for the soul; you don't realise how good it is to bitch about classmates at half-four in the morning until you're mid-rant, and it's magical.

       "You haven't lived," says Holly. "How have you gone this long without all sitting around and complaining about other people? That's the best part."

       "You... complain?" says Hermione, frowning.

       "Well, discuss," says Holly. This is surreal to her. She cannot believe they've all gone this long without having a proper sleepover. It's horrendous. "One time Pansy and I stayed up all night talking about people from school."

       "That's not surprising," says Hermione, probably thinking about Pansy, who to her, is not her widely misunderstood and slightly misinformed best friend, but rather, a very nasty girl who often bullies her.

       Holly shrugs. "It's good to talk about people," she says. "You think they're not doing the same about you?"

       There's a pause. Holly frowns.

       "So," says Holly. "Do you two fancy anyone?"

       "No," says Hermione, rather quickly.

       "So, Ginny, I heard you're going out with Dean Thomas," says Holly, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She hopes Ginny will say something like he's really nice or whatever, because Holly is struggling here. Do Gryffindors not know any gossip? What is this madness?

       Ginny nods. "Yeah," she says, but apparently this isn't anything interesting. No happy tales, no he's really nice. "Hang on — I know you're off the team now, but what's going to be happening with the Slytherin Quidditch team next year? Montague's left, and I doubt his sister's going to take up any leadership role."

       Hermione, who seems to have recovered from her quick dismissal that she doesn't fancy anyone, furrows her brows. "Will Malfoy become captain?" she asks, looking a little unhappy by the idea.

      "I don't know," says Holly. "He might not even be on the team next year."

       "What do you mean by that?" asks Hermione, frowning.

       "He might want to move on," says Holly.

      This is translation for he might become a Death Eater and I highly doubt he's going to want to play Quidditch if he's got that weight hanging on his shoulders. Maybe he already is one. Her mother did visit Snape with Narcissa and Bellatrix... No. He would've told her. If her cousin was one of them, he would've told her by now, surely...

       "So how come Harry's getting here so early?" asks Holly, trying to steer the conversation far, far away from her cousin. She likes Ginny and Hermione, she really does, but she also has loyalty to her cousin and she doesn't like the idea of accidentally giving anything about him, especially if he wouldn't want them to know. "I thought they normally wait until he's almost died halfway through August to let him stay."

       "That was one time," says Ginny.

       "Yeah, no biggie," Holly remarks. "So, uh, how come?"

       Ginny and Hermione exchange a look, and Hermione shrugs. "We don't know, really, but Dumbledore insisted that Harry stayed here earlier this year — that's why I'm already here," she explains. Holly nods, and Hermione glances away from her. "Perhaps it's too dangerous, you've seen the papers recently..."

       Holly has seen the papers. She knows what is actually going on, how a bridge in London was destroyed by the people her mother stands with. She knows that her mother promised to keep this all away from her, but she didn't do it properly — Draco's still being pulled into this mess, and Holly wouldn't forgive herself if she stood by and didn't help her cousin in need.

       She thinks of her dad again, what he said to her before he left.

       Blow 'em away, one more time. 

       One more time...

       Quickly the other two fall asleep, and Holly lies on the mattress she's claimed for the night, frowning up at the ceiling. She can't sleep. She's so used to her dorm room that she's used to going to bed late — normally if she doesn't sneak out to see Harry in the kitchens, she stays up late with her friends, where they talk about everything under the sun. And more recently, in the summer holidays, Holly's gotten into the habit of excusing herself to her bedroom at around ten, where she then stays up for a couple more hours, just so she can spend some time on her own, away from her mother and Atticus.

       She likes her mother. The thing is that her mother isn't her dad, and every time Holly wakes up in the Valen House, she still wishes she was at her actual home. She doesn't know if she preferred staying at Grimmauld Place to the Valen House, because they're so different. Grimmauld Place was, for the most part, happy, and she had Hermione and the Weasleys keeping her company, whenever she descended from the attic. And then there were always visitors — her dad was there, and then, so was Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks...

       And then there's the Valen House. It's strange there. Her mother is quite to herself, Holly thinks, but she supposes that's because her mother spent almost sixteen years on her own in prison. Sometimes her mother gets a little reckless and plays Billie Holiday, or another muggle jazz singer — which is nice, Holly supposes, but it's always over before Holly can feel at home, amongst the muggle music.

       A while ago Pansy made the joke to Holly, you're like a muggleborn with a magical mother. Which makes complete sense to Holly, who grew up knowing nothing about witchcraft and wizardry, and wouldn't have known anything if she hadn't been told about everything on her eleventh birthday. Everything is still new to her. She's used to the scary kind of wizardry at Durmstrang, not the exciting kind at Hogwarts. Sometimes she'll be at her friends' houses and they'll have some sort of appliance that runs on magic, and she'll have to stop herself from staring in awe.

       Holly misses her dad, that's a given. She wishes she could write to him, but she can't, and every time she begins to think this, she has to shake the idea away, or else she'll get upset. But she does miss him — and you know what, it's getting late, Hermione and Ginny are asleep, she can drown in her own self-pity until she falls asleep. Then she'll be back to I'm fine (really!)

       So her mother. She likes her mother, but it's not the same, and that's the thing that gets Holly. A couple days ago Holly talked her mother into playing a little bit of Fleetwood Mac, one of the records that technically belongs to her dad, but it was left in her room and if she's not seeing him for God knows how long, then she's going to keep as much as him as she possibly can. So she played Don't Stop and she was smiling from ear to ear. Normally when that song's on at home she and her dad will dance together, mess about. But her mother doesn't dance. Holly said, I know you can, but then the song ended and her mother said it was dangerous to play too much muggle music altogether, the others might find out.

       "Just use the (silencing) charm," Holly had told her. "Come on, Mother, you still haven't heard all of the good muggle music — you haven't even heard Magic Dance by David Bowie! Or Africa by Toto! Or anything by Cher—"

       "It's dangerous, darling," her mother had said.

       Holly knows her mother is right, she's the one that's tricked the Death Eaters. She's being careful because they have to be, they'll be killed if Voldemort finds out the truth.

       She still doesn't like it, though. When her mother first told her that they were to continue pretending, Holly had refused, and within the first day of knowing her, they had already had an argument, which consequently ended with Atticus talking to her mother, who then apologised but told her the severity of the situation. And Holly agreed and now Holly's a little unhappy but knows there's nothing she can do.

       (One more time, she reminds herself.)

      It's around midnight when Holly sits up, bored. Sometimes she gets hay fever, and her throat feels a little scratchy because of it. So she stands up and slips out of the bedroom, to get a glass of water. She makes her way downstairs, thankful she managed to remember the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, especially the stairs, where a couple steps have moved over the years and were now waiting for someone sleepy to fall flat on their arse.

       She walks into the kitchen, the light still on. She figures that Mrs Weasley is still awake, waiting for Mr Weasley to return home, and she's about to greet her and say that she was just going to get a glass of water and go back to sleep, but then, she spots the boy sitting at the table, and all of a sudden Holly feels nothing but happiness. She rushes forwards and hugs Harry from behind, putting her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on one.

       "It's been the longest two weeks of my life!" she says, and she kisses the side of his face. She moves back and he stands up. For a second her mouth parts in surprise. He's grown. Now he's far taller than she is — how can someone grow in the span of two weeks?

       Harry hugs Holly. "I've got so much to tell you!"

       "Me too!" she says, grinning. She glances down at the table, where a half-eaten plate sits, and she sits down, in hopes that Harry will do the same and continue eating. "So how have your aunt and uncle been?"

       "Like they always are, but at least I've only stayed with them for two weeks this summer," says Harry, and Holly nods. He grins at her. "You should've seen their faces when Dumbledore came to pick me up..."

       "How come, though?" asks Holly. "I would've thought Mr Weasley could've collected you from there, you said he did before the Quidditch World Cup? Why did Dumbledore...?"

       "He wanted me to help him," says Harry, and Holly frowns. She glances over his shoulder, where Mrs Weasley is standing next to the door, waiting for Mr Weasley's return. "He wants this man called Slughorn to go out of retirement and teach at Hogwarts again."

       "Is he?" says Holly.

       Harry nods. "He'll teach Potions next year—"

      "What about Snape, then?" says Holly. 

       "Maybe they'll fire him," says Harry, eating his bread.

       Holly sighs. "We're not that lucky."

       The back door opens, and Mr Weasley walks into the kitchen, as Mrs Weasley frowns. "I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home. I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

       Holly fidgets in her seat. Now that she's actually living with two Death Eaters, the mention of them makes her feel on-edge. She thinks of what her mother always says, about saying too much, about what will happen if people find out — it's dangerous, darling. Her mother's fine with her telling the Weasleys, just so that she can collect Holly tomorrow. She isn't worried about them telling anyone; "Well, I don't suppose they will tell anyone about me, because they seem to rather like their children, and of course I will have no choice but to—"

       (Holly had interrupted her at that point, loudly exclaiming, "I wonder what's for dinner?")

       "I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup?" says Mr Weasley. He turns to the table, noticing the two. "Harry! We didn't expect you until morning!"

       Harry stands to shake hands with him.

       "Holly, what are you doing up still?" asks Mr Weasley.

       "Couldn't sleep," says Holly. Which is partly true.

       Mr Weasley nods, sitting down at the table. "Are you nervous about the Wizengamot tomorrow?" he asks.

       Holly shrugs. "Maybe a little..."

       She is not nervous. She's excited. The reason she couldn't sleep is because she misses her dad and she hates the idea of years passing without seeing him again. The Wizengamot trial tomorrow is exciting to her — she's getting one step closer to her dream job, she gets to sit and see all of these important trials, why would she be nervous?

       "Thanks, Molly," says Mr Weasley, as Mrs Weasley gives him a bowl of soup. "It's been a tough night, some idiots been selling Metamorph-Medals..."

       Holly zones out a little. She keeps on thinking about tomorrow. She got a fancy suit and everything, to wear under the purple robes. Her aunt Narcissa took her to a dress shop and everything. And the trial! She doesn't know what it's about, they won't tell her until tomorrow morning, but she's already excited. There are so many things it could be about. Maybe it'll be a murderer, or an Azkaban trial, oooooooh...

       "It's time you two should go and get some rest," says Mr Weasley. Holly lets out a sigh, but to be fair, she can't exactly catch Harry up on what's happened with her mother with Mr and Mrs Weasley in the room, then she'll have to take out some parts.

       Holly stands up, pushing the chair back under the table as Mr Weasley tells Harry, "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, you'll have it to yourself."

       "Why, where are they?" asks Harry.

       "Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy," says Mrs Weasley. Holly decides she'll wait for Harry, to walk upstairs with him. She hasn't seen him in two weeks, she's taking every chance to speak to him that she can. "I must say, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dear, your trunk's already up there."

       Both Harry and Holly mumble a good-night, and Mr Weasley reminds Holly that they'll be going to the Ministry for half-eight, and she nods.

        "So this Slughorn man's the new Potions professor," says Holly to Harry, as they walk up the stairs. Her brows furrow. "I wonder what Snape's doing, then."

       "Maybe Dumbledore realised how terrible he is," says Harry.

       Holly glances at him. "I'll ask Mother and see if she—"

       "What?"

       "Oh, uh..." says Holly, glancing around. Harry's about to open the door into Fred and George's bedroom to go to sleep, and Holly sighs, stepping pass him and into the room. She'll be ten minutes, tops, just so she can explain what's going on. "So, when I got back at the start of the holidays..."

       Holly sits on the end of Harry's bed, explaining the ordeal with her mother. She smiles softly, trying to look a little less worried about whatever's happening with her dad. It takes a little while to reassure him that her mother wasn't evil.

       The rest of the house is silent, the crack in the curtains showing a dark, dusky sky, thanks to the mist that's covered the country since the Dementors left Azkaban to be by Voldemort's side.

       She was expecting him to react in the way he did, to be honest. She knew he would immediately hear the words my mother, a Death Eater, is now technically my guardian whilst my dad and step-dad are abroad in hiding and say that her mother shouldn't be trusted, that she must be trying to do something to help Voldemort. And Holly explains the matter at hand, how her mother's somehow talked Voldemort into believing Holly doesn't actually want to be with Harry, but rather, she's staying close to him to help Voldemort.

       "Which isn't true," says Holly, and she kisses Harry.

      "I—I know," says Harry, a little red in the face. "But, um, speaking of Voldemort..."

       Holly frowns. She doesn't think that's ever been a good omen.

       "Do you remember the prophecy, last year?" he asks.

       Holly nods. "The one that broke?"

       "Well, I know what it said," says Harry, and Holly's eyes widen. Suddenly the Department of Mysteries feels a little worth it, worth the destruction it caused. "Dumbledore showed me afterwards." For a second she thinks, so it wasn't worth it, then, but then she remembers why there were Death Eaters there, and how it's probably good, whatever the prophecy is, that they didn't find out. "It said that neither of us could live whilst the other survives."

       Her brows furrow. "So you've got to kill him."

       "Or he kills me," says Harry.

       Holly, frowning in thought, stands up. She paces up and down the room, deep in thought. "If you need to kill him, then... He's got to have a weakness, surely?" she says, sort-of speaking to Harry, sort-of thinking aloud. "He seems to be indestructible but no one is, he must have something that you can use... And then, you've got to get better at duelling. Like, it's cute, but you can't rely on Expelliarmus, I can teach you duelling if you want..."

      "Hol?" says Harry, standing up.

       She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

       Then there's a minute of silence, where he looks at her, wanting to say something but struggling to gets the words out. Holly looks at him, confused, hoping he'd just say it and let them get back to thinking about this. If he's supposed to kill Voldemort, how much time do they have left? She's not letting Harry get killed, she's going to help as much as she possibly can to help his stop Voldemort, once and for all.

       "Don't laugh," he says.

       "What? Why would I—?"

       "I love you."

       Holly stares at Harry. She was not expecting that. For a while she's figured it'll be said sooner or later, considering he sort-of alluded to it during the last D.A. meeting — You know why I am — but still. She feels like the world's slowed down.

       She feels as if her heart has swollen with happiness, like the sky isn't cloudy from the darkness looming over the country, but instead, the stars are shining down on her, on them.

       And then, Holly wraps her arms around him, throwing herself onto him. "I love you so much," she says back to him, and she looks up, smiling brightly at him. He kisses her, and for a minute she forgets the fact that he could get killed, trying to stop an evil man, or how she may never see her dad again. Instead she thinks of the same thing. She loves him. She loves him she loves him she loves him.

       "We need to think about this," says Holly. "The whole kill-Voldemort thing."

       "Could we, maybe, leave that?" says Harry, pulling a face. "I'd much rather—"

       "What?" says Holly, raising an eyebrow. "Kiss me?"

       "Well, yeah," says Harry.

       "Well," says Holly, smiling softly. She sits back down on his bed, crossing her legs. "I'd much rather you, you know, survive."

       "There's tomorrow to—"

       "This is why people think Gryffindors have no tact," says Holly, rolling her eyes at him. "And how I beat you in the Triwizard Tournament — right, so, how do we kill Voldemort...?"

       "Dumbledore says he's going to give me lessons," says Harry.

       Holly frowns. "On how to kill him?"

       "No, but to prepare me," says Harry.

       "All right," says Holly. "Do you know what the lessons are gonna be?"

      "No," says Harry.

       "That's helpful," says Holly. Her brows furrow, and she chews on her bottom lip. "Voldemort's got to have some sort of weakness, he can't be walking around soulless, there must be something we can use, for you to stop him for good..."

       And Holly tries her best to wrack her brain. There must be some way to stop Voldemort, he can't have no weaknesses whatsoever. He's got to have some sort of Achilles' heel, the only issue is figuring it out — but hell, she's going to help as much as she possibly can to help Harry stop Voldemort, because she is not having the one out of the two to survive being Voldemort. She can figure something out, she know she can with help from her friends, she can do just what her dad said. Blow 'em away, one more time....

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

"one more time" is the new "right or easy"

also they were meant to say that they loved each other in the last book but it never felt right and then i was going to leave it to chapter two of this because having it in chapter one seems a bit much but then this book is going to be a bit much so at least i'm preparing you guys

i hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you thought!!