divided.

Installment Two.

"So, Molly, did the twins tell ye who I met las'weekend?" Mundungus asked the following Thursday, after one of the Order's semi-regular meetings.

A few people had stuck around after the meeting, and Molly was preparing a late dinner for everyone. While waiting for the meal to finish, everyone had spread out around the kitchen in small groups. Mundungus, Lupin, Sirius, the twins, and Tonks were sitting at the table on the side nearest the fireplace. Arthur and Ginny were in the cooking area chatting and keeping an eye on the food's progress. Molly was leaning on one of the counters, facing toward the fireplace. Bill, Charlie, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were seated on the opposite side of the table, backs to the cooking area. There had been multiple small conversations taking place around the room, but as Dung's question filled the air, people's conversations became hushed and they began to pay attention to the twins, waiting on their next move. Both Fred and George noticed the sudden change. It was no secret to the boys that everyone in and around the house had begun to notice a change in their behavior. They were around an awful lot less, and they were definitely keeping a secret.

"No, Mundungus, they didn't mention anything." Molly tried to seem uninterested and natural, but it was difficult.

"Well, I 'appened ter'be passin through The Leaky Cauldron Thursday night. I was just after seein about some...well, never mind. But I stumbled upon these two lads 'n their new Lady Friend."

Fred dropped his head into his hands and groaned. George rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dung to make things sound far more dramatic than they really were. You could almost hear necks snap in their direction.

"Lady Friend?" Bill asked from across the table. "Is that what's been keeping you two out of the house so much lately?"

"Having a row over a girl now, are we lads?" Charlie smirked at them.

"No," they said, firmly, in unison.

"Hey, hey--boys no need to get so testy." Charlie's eyes glinted, the older brother in him just couldn't resist.

"Shutup, Charles," again, spoken in unison. They knew how much he hated to hear his full name.

"Boys," Molly intoned, cutting the argument off at its knees.

"So are you two going to tell us who she is, or are we going to have to get he details from Dungy over here?" Sirius smiled wickedly, and nodded towards Mundungus. "There's got to be some reason you're keeping her from us and I'm sure Mundungus will have an interesting perspective on--"

"Her name is Niamh," Fred cut Sirius off, shooting him a dirty look and debating sending a mild hex his way, or perhaps slipping him a Ton-Tongue-Toffee.

"And?" Harry asked obnoxiously, following Sirius into the conversation.

"She's a witch," George offered.

"Oh, please," Ron said dryly.

"So...Dung..." Sirius swung around to face Mundungus. "What's she--" He was cut off again, this time by George.

"She's young--"

"Twenty two--"

"And she's American--"

"Just moved here--"

"For a job--"

"She lives in Dublin too--"

"That's where she is now--"

"And really, she's just our friend."

"Yes. Friend."

"Enough with the twinspeak, tell us the truth," Bill jumped in, ending the volley of mostly meaningless facts between the brothers. They were both silent for a minute. "It's not that hard, boys, we just want to know what's so wonderful about this girl that she's keeping you out of the house so much. I haven't actually seen you in almost two weeks."

"Also, we want to know why you won't tell us about her," Ron added, leaning back in his chair and tipping it up onto two legs.

"I don't know if I would say she's wonderful, but..." George trailed off.

"I'll be certain to tell her that if I ever see her," Charlie said.

"Do you want us to tell you about her or not?!" Fred felt exasperated. Why was everyone so interested in her? Why did everyone feel the need to stick their noses in his business?

"We're sorry, Love, continue," Molly said softly, soothingly. Playing the moderator more because she was as interested as everyone else, than because she was worried about another row.

"She's an American witch of mixed parentage who just moved here from New York. She splits her time between London and Dublin. We met her in the shop about 3 weeks ago, and we've been hanging out with her ever since. She's young, she's smart and she's fun to spend time with. It's that simple. We're not really hiding her from anyone...look where we live...it's not as though we can just bring her 'round anytime we want. She can't even see the house!"

"He has a fair point there," said Remus, speaking up for the first time.

"So why did she come here? Did you make mention of a job?" Arthur also joined the conversation, interest probably piqued by the mention of her mixed parentage, and all the possibilities that entailed.

"She moved to Dublin for her job, and they have her in the London office part of the time as well. And before you ask, she works for a muggle institution, a bank called JPMorgan Chase."

"I've never heard of them."

"Muggle bank, Bill. Muggle. Not magical."

"I know, George, do you think Gringotts doesn't have any connections with the outside world? We do work with some muggle banks occasionally; I thought I might know what you were talking about."

"It's an American bank anyway, that's probably why you don't know of it. She used to work in their New York office, but when she graduated from university, they transferred her here."

"Why does she work with Muggles?" asked Ron, confusion spread across his face.

"She grew up with Muggles." George shrugged.

"But Hermione grew up with Muggles, and so did I. I'm not going to work for Muggles when I finish at Hogwarts." Harry looked confused too.

"Yes, but wizardry in America is very different, Harry," Hermione said. "Not all mixed-blood witches and wizards choose to live their life completely in the magical world. Some of them divide their life, spending part of it as a Muggle and part of it as a Wizard. I suspect that would be what Niamh does."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"I read, Ronald."

"I do too, Hermione." He shot her a dirty look.

"Obviously you aren't reading the right books, then," she countered. "I'm reading Part-Timers: a Guide to Modern American Wizardry, just now. It's translated from Japanese."

"You are such a know-it-all. Where do you find these books?" Ron crossed his arms over his chest and sunk a little lower in his chair.

"She uses the word 'part-timer' a lot when she talks about herself," said Fred.

"It's a common term in American wizardry, kind of like muggle is common here. It's used to refer to any witch or wizard, mixed parentage or not, who chooses to live their life in both the wizard and the muggle worlds. Although generally, the only people who choose to do so are people who have mixed parentage."

"That's very interesting," Arthur spoke again. "So, she has an entire muggle life, and an entire magical life?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd use the word 'entire.' Her life isn't entirely about either side. She's not just a Muggle, nor is she just a muggle-born Witch," Fred responded.

"That's strange."

"To us, it is, Ronald. Not to her. To her, it's very normal."

"Lay off, Hermione! Either way it's not normal to me."

"Regardless, she sounds fascinating," Arthur cut in on another budding row.

"Of course she does, Dad, anything remotely Muggle fascinates you." George smiled cheekily at his father.

"She's definitely a character."

Fred smiled, mostly to himself, thinking of the practical joke she'd played on George not a week after they'd met. He was quite miffed when he discovered she was actually able to disguise one of his Ton-Tongue-Toffees and convince him to eat it. It had been quite brilliant, really, the way she'd broken the spell they'd used to keep the Toffees from changing forms. They'd wanted to make sure the Toffees were always identifiable to the educated consumer. But Niamh had broken the spell, and used one of her own to disguise it as a Honeydukes sweet. George had fallen for the prank hook, line, and sinker.

"So how did you get to know her?" Molly asked, beginning to show her curiosity more openly. "I know she came to the shop, but..."

"Well, when she came into the shop a few weeks back," began George. He paused for a moment, watching his mother wince slightly, she did that any time either he or his brother mentioned the shop. Molly was still not fond of the idea that her sons were running a joke shop, but she was beginning to warm to the idea, as she began to see how successful they were, and more importantly, how happy it made them. "She bought a few things, and the shop was pretty empty, so we got to chatting about Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. We were telling her about the area, and she asked if maybe we could show her around a bit."

"That was very kind of you boys. I'm sure she really needs friends about now. She's very far from home."

"That was what we figured. And it doesn't hurt that she's a real laugh sometimes."

"We'll have to meet her someday. I have no doubts that she and your father would get along very well indeed."

Molly bowed out of the conversation gracefully, and both boys were thankful. They weren't sure of what else to say...granted, Niamh was fascinating in her own way. But it felt funny, speaking about her behind her back that way. Like she was a piece of their history, and not a piece of their present. And frankly, everyone's sudden interest in her seemed odd. They weren't exactly trying to keep her to themselves or hide her from everyone or anything. But it just didn't seem like pertinent information. Really, what did she have to do with this part of their lives?

*****

"I'm just after talking to Sinead. We're going to Judge Roy Beans with Susie, Brian, Sean, and maybe Boston Ciara. Want to join?" asked Shirley, running fingers through her black bangs. "Does my fringe look okay?"

"Your bangs--sorry, fringe!--are fine. And I think I'm gonna stay in tonight, but thanks anyway." Niamh smiled up at Shirley from the couch. She knew she was about to get some grief for her recent homebody tendencies, and although she also knew that the smile would not stop Shirley from lecturing her, she offered it anyway. Just in case.

"You're 22, Niamh, not 62. You need to get out of the flat more often, this is just silly. How are you going to make more friends in Dublin if you never leave home?"

"Shirley, I'm tired. I've been working myself to the bone and I haven't gotten enough sleep in a week. I just want to relax, have a glass of wine, read a book, and go to bed early. I know I seem like a total nerd, but I'm just not in the mood for the pub tonight."

"Can't you just...magic yourself into the mood?"

"It doesn't work that way, Shirley." Niamh shook her head and laughed to herself. She had her work cut out for her with this one. "Believe me, I wish it were that simple. But it isn't."

"Someday you'll have to explain that to me. But for now, I'm off to shower...do you need the toilet?"

"No. Go ahead, I'm fine."

Shirley spun around, her long black hair flying out around her before falling to rest against the back of her red, puppy-paw-printed bathrobe. Niamh stood up and stretched, baggy sweatpants hanging low on her hips, men's undershirt rising as she reached toward the ceiling. In Shirley's fluffy pink slippers, Niamh shuffled across the living room, toward the kitchenette area. She knew that in the fridge was a half-finished bottle of Chardonnay that would loosen the tense muscles in her shoulders, and it seemed like the perfect plan for a Thursday evening. Niamh, comfy pajamas, a glass or two of wine, and her massive new copy of Hogwarts: A History, which she'd lugged back from London with her for this reason alone.

"How do I look?" Half an hour later, behind the couch, Shirley spun a circle in her skirt and heels.

"Hot."

"Good. I'm on the pull tonight."

"I'll be sure to hole up in my bedroom sometime before 2 am, so I don't witness anything indecent when you get home."

"Hahaha. But, sure, that would be a good idea." She winked. "If I'm not in bed by 12, I'll call home."

"Ever so witty," Niamh called out as the door closed behind Shirley.

Shirley was a party animal. Generally, Niamh enjoyed a good night out at the pub, or a dance club. But often, she was also equally content to stay in and read a good book or watch a good movie. Shirley would go out every night of the week if she could, and in fact, she often did just that. 7, 8, 10 nights in a row. Niamh could never figure out where the energy came from. Even when she was still in college back at home she didn't have the energy to keep up a schedule like that.

She smiled to herself as she thought back to the end of her college career. How many nights had she sat up, working on papers until the wee hours of the morning, telling herself it would all be over soon--telling herself life after college, in the working world, would be far less stressful, and far more glamorous? She had been sorely misguided on that one. She worked more hours every day than she'd ever spent in class, and she still brought work home with her most nights of the week. It just never ended. She was beginning to realize that was something about her. She carried the sense of responsibility and drive with her, everywhere she went, and so the long hours and the piles of work...they followed too.

This was one of her few completely free weekends, and she was looking forward to savoring it. She worked a full day in the office on Friday, but she would bring nothing home with her that evening. Friday night she promised Shirley and Sinead they'd have a girlie night, filled with Mafia movies (Shirley's favorite), West Coast Cooler, nail polish, and gossip. Saturday was still completely up in the air, although she and Shirley did need to do a bit of grocery shopping at Dunnes, and it was possible they'd go visit Shirley's family out in Swords. And Sunday was her bi-weekly pickup game of quidditch over in Phoenix Park, which she was really looking forward to. She'd missed the last one, and it was beginning to feel like she hadn't flown in years. She was aching for a good turn around the field on her broom.

About 250 pages into Hogwarts: A History, just as Niamh was really getting into the chapter on the myth of the Chamber of Secrets, the doorbell rang loudly, echoing through their still sparsely furnished apartment. Shirley, she grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. The girl was forever leaving her keys behind and locking herself out of the apartment. Just the other day, she'd locked herself out of the apartment in a towel accidentally. Without a thought, Niamh marked her page, closed the book, and left it face up on the coffee table.

"Am I going to have to put those on a necklace for you?" she asked, swinging the front door open.

"Put what on a necklace for me?" the guest responded, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. Niamh suppressed the urge to groan, and her heart rate began to rise a bit.

"Oh, hey, Aidan." Niamh wanted to step outside and close the door behind her, in order to keep Aidan out of the apartment, but she didn't have keys on her. They'd just barely begun seeing each other; this was no time for him to be finding Hogwarts: A History on her coffee table.

"Hey love." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She was still too shocked to respond in kind.

"What are you doing here, Aidan?" she asked. "It's late; we have work in the morning."

"Well, I was in town, over at Oil Can Harry's having a few pints with some mates, and I thought of you, and I decided, since I was so close, I'd knock up to see how you are. And maybe, have a drink or a tea or a kiss or something..." He leaned down toward her lips again. She backed up swiftly, unintentionally pulling the door open a little further. Aidan took that as an invitation to enter.

Before Niamh could even fully register what was happening, Aidan had slid past her and made it almost all the way down the entry hall and into the living room. She noticed the smell of Guinness on him as he passed her. Her mind was racing as she tried to figure out what to do next, all the while chasing after him. She could distract him with a kiss. But she'd need her wand to get rid of that book before he'd notice it. The wand was hidden between some of the cushions on the couch; she'd never get to the wand before he got to the book. Never mind getting to the wand fast enough to grab it before heading him off at the pass with a kiss so he couldn't see the book. It was all too complicated for muggle behavior, but she didn't want to risk messing around with any more magic in his presence. She still had a chance that he'd consumed enough Guinness to keep him from noticing the book, although judging by the steadiness of his strut he'd only had about 2 pints. For a former rugby player who stood well over 6 feet tall, 2 pints barely made a dent in his sobriety.

Niamh winced as he dropped unceremoniously onto the couch, narrowly missing the cushions between which she'd stashed her wand. The thought of him breaking her wand was mildly devastating, as she was quite attached to it. Her fingers were crossed behind her back for luck as she walked toward the couch, hoping she could get to the wand before--

"Come here, love." Aidan turned his head a bit so he could see her, and patted his lap. No such luck. She had no choice but to walk around the couch and take a seat, there would be no grabbing the wand behind his back. "Hey, what's that monstrous book?" he asked, just after he attempted to drop his feet on the coffee table in its spot. He leaned forward and inspected it, reading the title aloud before turning it over. "Hogwarts: A History. Britain's most famous school for witchcraft and wizardry has... Niamh, what is this rubbish?"

Quickly, she threw herself down in his lap and leaned close to his body, pulling her wand out from between the cushions.

"Stupefy!" She exclaimed, pointing her wand directly at him. His head lolled backwards until it hit the couch behind it, he was completely unconscious. "I should have done this right away...will I ever learn my lesson?" She said as she turned around and quickly bewitched the book so that to an outsider, it would look like nothing more than the Oxford English Dictionary. "Dissimulo."

In the 17 years since Niamh had begun to use magic, she'd gotten pretty good at bewitching wizarding items to look like less obtrusive muggle items. In her dorm room, and here in the apartment as well, she did this most typically with books, but she had a cabinet full of potions supplies that looked like cooking spices and a cauldron in the kitchen that looked like a fondue pot. This way, whenever Muggles came into the apartment, nothing seemed odd or out of place. It cut down on the amount of explaining, and potential memory modification that she had to do.

Memory modification was something else Niamh had become quite good at. In her life, moments such as these were all too common. Sometimes you accidentally left your wand lying around one time too many. Sometimes you thought you could trust a friend or lover, and you couldn't. Sometimes, you just slipped up. Those messes had to be cleaned up immediately. From childhood they were taught to put out small fires; that way things could never start to burn out of their control. This, comparatively, was a small fire. She'd modify Aidan's memory, and he'd forget all about what he'd just seen. Unfortunately, leaving the memory there was far too risky. If he started to make other connections in the future, she'd potentially be forced to wipe out a huge chunk of memory, and that was both dangerous and unfair. Instead, she'd take care of things quickly, when she had only one memory to erase. Things could never escalate that way.

"Obliviate." She said it softly, concentrating on the memory she wanted to erase. "Ennervate." She slipped her wand between the couch cushions again, and looked into Aidan's eyes as he regained consciousness. She knew the memory was gone and all was well. This was an aspect of her life she'd become quite accustomed to, no matter how much she loathed it sometimes--carefully concealing things, even herself, always ready to erase the dangerous memories that might slip between the cracks.