Nicole Stevens: Blood and Daggers

Chapter Twenty-Six: Not All Angels Have Wings

I cuddled against Harry's chest, noticing how firm his muscles had become after all those Quidditch practices. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, resting his chin on the top of my head. His heart beat is a constant thump-thump...thump-thump. It is reassuring, as well as relaxing.

"Sleepy?" Harry whispered.

"Yes. When're we going to get there?"

"Hm..." he looked at his watch, "an hour or so."

"It was really clever of you to think of calling the Knight Bus," I said, drawing my finger down his stomach. "We would've been stuck in Ashbourne if you hadn't."

"Yeah...that was a brilliant idea, wasn't it?" he said, smiling down into my eyes.

"Our ever-modest hero," I teased.

"I certainly am."

We laughed, and I snuggled closer to Harry's warmth. It was nearly lunchtime, and I had not had anything to eat in days. Harry and I were both famished, fatigued, and worried. We tried not to let it show, but we knew that it was likely we would be expelled from Hogwarts; it was an awful thought that plagued my dreams. However, we had an unspoken agreement that we would not speak of it until we knew for certain whether our fears were rational.

"Harry, there's something that's been bothering me for a while now--"

"I know I snore."

"Well, yes, but that not what I wanted to say. It's just that--well, I found out that where I live is where...your parents lived. Godric's Hollow. I didn't know until after we had moved in and..."

Harry gave me a look. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah--I didn't know how to tell you."

"Then that's it," Harry said suddenly, as if seeing something he'd never realised before. "That's why my scar kept hurting, and that's why when you touched me..." he faded off.

"I never thought of that."

"Neither had I," he replied. "That explains a lot."

I nodded, and Harry reverted back to silently thinking about what we were going to do.

Hours before, I had been alone in a strange Muggle town, thinking Harry was dead; it was amazing what could happen in a few hours. I was worried--Draco wouldn't be happy once he found out about Harry and me. But, Draco had sold me to Voldemort twice; a far worse offence than sleeping with Ginny Weasley. He would understand my reasons, surely. There was always that chance that he would not forgive me, though. But I would just have to deal with that obstacle when I came to it.

For now, my best option was to sleep. My eyes became heavy, and as the Knight Bus jumped from Oxford to Bristol, I feel asleep.

Dear Diary,

I have started this diary because I suspect I will need to record my thoughts and emotions for the next few months. It is Christmastime at Hogwarts, and things are going as usual--well, at least by Hogwarts' standards. Harry and I are getting on really well, and we haven't fought at all. He call's me his 'wingless angel.'

Ginny Weasley came up to me the other day while I was walking back to my dorm. She apologised profusely, and I could tell she meant it. She admitted to being possessed by Tom Riddle for the second time, and that she would never really do that to anyone. Her face went brick red when Harry came up, but she was all right as soon as he had accepted her apology.

Ron and Hermione are dating, and neither one seems to fight the other on much. Ron has stopped being so inconsiderate, and Hermione's not nagging at him all the time, anymore. In fact, Ron now can kiss Hermione without offending her in some way. Not that he show PDA--Public Displays of Affection--but it's good enough for Hermione, since she knows he's trying.

Harry is well, if not overly happy. He seems to be with me all the time and it has gotten around school that we're dating again. I'm sure I saw Pansy Parkinson owling Draco the other day. She seems vindictive and spiteful, because Draco's not around to stop her. I wonder if he knows--I wonder if he believes. We had so many plans; but I knew it couldn't work out in the end. Maybe it's better this way. I don't know.

Dumbledore has not expelled us, obviously. He had a twinkle in his eyes when we told him all that had happened, and I think he could tell we were back together. I want to know how Dumbledore manages to know all of these things. Maybe he is a Seer. I am almost certain he is--I bet he is a descendant of Mortem Agdeburg. It would figure, wouldn't it?

Snape is acting worse than normal. His holiday cheer is minimal, if he has any cheer at all. I'm worried about my Potions final, because Snape's already trying to fail me. I think he hates me. Scratch that--I know he hates me. But, Dumbledore's been making sure that Snape doesn't give out five hundred failing grades to every student here. That would be awful if he did, but I wouldn't put it past him.

McGonagall seems to be happy to see me. She must like me, or something. I can't imagine why. It's not as if I'm her top student. Maybe she's just a nice person who doesn't want anyone to die. Maybe she knew Tom Riddle when she was a student at Hogwarts. I bet she did.

Tom Riddle has not been seen since the morning Harry blew him up. We're all thankful for that. I still want to know what happened to him. Did he die? Did he explode? I suppose we'll never know. But there's always that lingering question; is he still out there somewhere? I'm not sure I want to know.

Harry wants to go play outside in the fresh layer of three-foot-deep snow. He has his cloak and gloves on, and a hat. His scarf is red and gold; the colours of Gryffindor. His gloves are purple-maroon, and his hat is blue. He looks ridiculous--I wonder if he knows?--I might should tell him before we go outside. Or maybe I won't. He looks like an overgrown little kid in his mismatched clothes. It would ruin the look if he changed into all black. That's the funny thing about Harry (among other things); he looks too serious wearing black, and not like someone to go through snowball tag with; wearing different wacky colours makes him look childish, like a great big kid who likes to eat snow-cones and catch snowflakes on his tongue. It amazes me how tall he is, though; just short of six feet, I'd guess. His hair is getting long--he needs it cut, because his hair keeps falling into his eyes and he's developing this kind of twitch to get the hair out of his eyes. I'll probably cut it for him later this afternoon.

Harry's spotted me, and now he wants me to come outside and play with him. I try to point out that I don't want to bundle up and that I already have a cold, but Harry's already urging me up out of my chair--he's herding me into the staircase that leads up to my dorm. He wants me to change and come back down so we can go throw snowballs. I love it when he's like this; so alive and energetic, ready to dive headfirst into three feet of snow, just so that he can stuff it down my shirt. Not that I like being wet and cold, but it's still funny to watch him trip through the thick snow, as I plunge ahead to get away from him. I never win. We settled that one last Christmas--he wins the snow-stuffing race, and I win a kiss. Not exactly what one would call fair, but it works well.

I change into a baggy pair of old jeans that used to belong to Harry. He gave them to me when I said I wanted some warm trousers for the winter. I'm glad he didn't buy me any new trousers; his jeans are comfortable and smell like Harry--a comforting smell rather like fabric detergent and cologne. The cologne smell is new; Harry wanted to try something that he termed 'manly'. The smell is definitely Muggle-made. I'm sure he ordered some from a Muggle catalogue. It smells strong, yet gentle, with a mixed scent of aftershave. But, that might be aftershave and not the cologne at all. I'm not sure if Harry shaves yet. He might--I don't know.

I also put on an undershirt, as well as a turtleneck jumper and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt is also one of Harry's. It is dark red, with the name of some sports team on it. No doubt one of the boys in his dorm gave it to him a few years ago. Above everything else, I wear a cloak and a scarf; on my hands, a pair of soft black deerskin gloves, a gift from Harry for my belated birthday.

I head back downstairs, and then I am greeted by Harry, who grabs my hand and pulls me out the portrait hole. We are running so fast it seems like our feet don't touch the floor. We skim lightly over the grand marble staircase leading down into the Entrance Hall, and then we skid to a halt as Harry reaches the door and opens it. Outside, the snow falls softly, and everything is quiet. Harry pulls me out the door, and we stand on the steps, admiring the Winter Wonderland that is the Hogwarts grounds. Snow comes up to the top step, and Harry leads me carefully down into the sea of white. We wade together until we reach the middle. Then, Harry turns to me, scooping up a handful of the fine white powder. He crushes it together, into a tightly-packed ball.

"Run," he commands.

"Why should I?" I return sarcastically.

"Because I said to." He grins, his bright green eyes twinkling from behind his glasses. I turn, feeling as if I were being sucked into a whirlpool, because the snow is so thick it is almost impossible to walk through it. I fall, and then crawl as quickly as I can, digging a virtual tunnel of ice. Harry follows slowly after me, knowing I cannot move quickly. He waits a few seconds, before I stick my head out of the tunnel of snow. Then, he tackles me and we roll through the snow. I laugh, as we stop rolling and Harry sits on my legs to stop me escaping. He presses a finger to my lips and I stop laughing. I try to push him off me, but we know I'm not nearly that strong. He lets out a soft chuckle, his voice as deep as a man's.

He begins to stuff one snowball up my shirt. I writhe, laughing and giggling girlishly. As he leans sideways to make another large snowball, I push him off, catching him off balance. He tumbles off, and I stand up, scooping the snowball out of my shirt.

"Hey!" he cries, trying to grab my ankle, but I dart a step away. "Come back here, I'm not finished yet."

I laugh loudly, "Oh yes you are."

"I'm not." He stands up, a head taller than me. Harry waits, and I turn around, trying to dig another tunnel. But Harry doesn't want to wait any longer. He grabs me around the waist from behind me, and kisses my neck. I turned my head to the side, and he kisses my cheek. He laughs, and spins me around to face him. I look up into his eyes, and he gives me a soft kiss, before lightly pushing me into the bank of snow. I grab onto his arm, and he falls with me. We tumble into the snow.

An hour later, we return to the common room, cold, wet, and laughing. Harry and I part, heading upstairs to our dormitories, so we can change.

It has been an odd couple of months, but I think all of this has happened for the better. I don't know, but I think things are going to be all right. Oh well, at least I have Harry.

When I come back downstairs, the common room is empty; everyone has gone down to the Christmas Eve dinner. Not that there were many people in the common room to begin with; Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were the only other Gryffindors who stayed at Hogwarts. I look around for Harry, but I can't see him. He's not down yet. I wonder what must be taking him so long, but I decide to wait for him.

It turns out I don't have long to wait. Harry comes down the stairs, having donned a pair of charcoal trousers and a red shirt. His hand is clamped around something, and as he sees me, his eyes light up and he smiles. Harry hurries to meet me, and then, as I begin to speak, he says, "Wait. Watch this." He opens his hand, and doves suddenly rise from his palm. They fly once around us, before Harry snaps his fingers and they dissolve into a bunch of white feathers that come drifting down into my hair. But they aren't feathers; they're white rose petals. I gape at Harry, too stunned to speak.

"Do you like it?" Harry asks tentatively.

"Wow," I reply in awe. "How did you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Harry says furtively. "Come here, I want to show you something." He takes my hand, and leads me up the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories. He covers my eyes with his hand, and then opens the door. When Harry removes his hand, I am stunned to see a large box sitting in the middle of the room. Red and white rose petals are falling magically from the ceiling.

"Oh Harry--"

"Go on," he says. "Open it."

I glance at him, to see a wide smile on his face. Then I walk forward, and begin to tear the paper off the enormous box that was about half my height. I remove the ribbon and the paper, before pulling of the lid and finding another box inside. I pulled the second box out, unwrapping it and opening the lid. Inside was yet another box. There were five boxes, and on the fifth, I pulled off the ribbon, and opened it. Inside, was a smaller box that was most definitely containing a ring of some sort. I opened the hinged lid, and inside, a silver ring glittered, a large pearl set in the band. I pulled the ring from its box, and Harry came to stay by my side.

"Happy Christmas," Harry whispered in my ear, taking the ring from me and slipping it on my finger. I stared at the glittering pearl a moment, before turning to Harry, and wrapping my arms around his neck. He hugs me back, kissing my cheek.

"I love it, Harry."

"Really?" he asks.

"Yes. It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Harry answers, "It was my mother's when she was your age. Sirius sent it to me--I wanted you to have it."

Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt my heart swell. "Thank you Harry. I love it. It's the best Christmas present ever," I said.

"I'm glad you like it," he says. "I want you to have something else, too."

"What?"

"My love," he answers, drawing his finger along my cheek.

I smile, kissing him softly on the lips. "Thank you, Harry."

He returns my smile, and we head down to dinner. We laugh and eat, Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch, and Hermione and Ginny admire my ring. I feel lucky--I am lucky.

But--that thought about Draco still tortures me, even as I sit and laugh. I wish he would forgive me, and try to be happy for me. I wish he could understand. But I can't help it if he doesn't. All I can do is wait for him to make the first move.

I know I love Harry--I know I love Draco--I just think I love Harry more than I love Draco. I'll try not to think of Draco. I can do it, I know.

I love Harry. I know that. And Harry will always be here for me, unlike Draco. I want Harry.

Nicole Stevens

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THE END