Not Quite Paradise

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Not Quite Paradise

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night." -Edgar Allen Poe

Chapter Four

The Calm Before The Storm

"Another one of your rooks bites the dust," George announced triumphantly, watching as the struggling chess piece was dragged away. I scowled at him and made the next move. Playing chess with George (losing horribly, of course), was always fun, especially when he pretended he wasn't letting me win. After finally taking one of his pawns, I looked up to see that he wasn't looking at the board any more. His eyes were focused on a spot somewhere behind me. I turned in my seat and saw he was looking at the top of the staircase leading from the girls' dormitory.

Katie Bell stood at the top of the stairs, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She was standing alone, a book tucked casually in her left arm and blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight streaming from the large window. I had always been horribly jealous of the girl's looks and popularity. Who wouldn't be? She had the attentions of the majority of the male population, even if those attentions were passing whimsy.

My best friend and truth be told, pretty much only real friend, had joined the masses and had become unbearably smitten with the attractive Gryffindor Chaser in past weeks. He often came to me for advice on girls (Since Fred had told him that girls really liked to sleep with frogs in their beds, I was the only one whose advice he trusted.) and I tried to give guidance on how to approach the potential relationship, but it wasn't exactly my strong department.

"Wow," he said quietly. I turned around and looked at him. His eyes were locked on her and his jaw was practically resting on the chessboard.

"Watch out or you'll swallow a bug," I said dryly. He didn't react.

"Men are so animalistic," my black queen said from her spot on the board. "They see one attractive female and -poof- all rationality is out the window!" She glared at her husband, who was leering suggestively at George's eyelash-batting queen. She gave him a hard rap on the side of the head and he fell to the ground, surprised. I smirked at them and arched an eyebrow at George, whose ears were flushing red.

"Go ask her," I urged him. Since I had gotten him to admit that he had a crush the size of the giant squid, he'd been trying to get up the Gobstones to ask her to go with him to Hogsmeade the next free weekend. Closest thing to a date you can get while attending a boarding school, I had told him. He looked uncertainly between the chessboard and me. "I was just going to let you win anyway," I insisted. He grinned at this and began to stand, his hands resting on the table.

"Wish me luck?" he said a little nervously. I nodded and patted the top of his hand.

"You'll do great. May the Force be with you." My Muggle father was a science fiction movie fanatic and he had me watch the entire Star Wars series at least once a year. George looked at me strangely for a moment, gave a reluctant thumbs-up and headed for Katie.

"Sorry, guys," I said to the chess pieces. "Looks like we'll see each other again next rainy day." I cleaned off the board and put my pieces into a tiny satchel, one my mother had left for me in her will. In my mind, I could see my father's eyes tearing up as their lawyer read the parchment. No, no, no! In the past, I told myself.

"I'll play," a voice said from across from me. I looked up and saw Hermione Granger sitting in the seat across from me, looking almost unnatural without a few books clutched tightly to her chest. "I promised Ron that I would play chess against him this afternoon and I would like to beat him just once before graduation. I could use all the practice I can get." I smiled gratefully, nodded and set up the board again.

Hermione held control of the white pieces and I, the black.

"George is quite taken with Katie, I see," Hermione said.

"Oh, definitely. But then, who isn't?" Hermione's black knight advanced forward and took two white pawns in successive turns. "I think a nice healthy crush is good for him. He needs it to take his mind off... well... everything."

"I could use something to take my mind off everything," Hermione said, planting her chin on her hand and gazing down at the board with chocolate eyes. She continued to speak and I didn't dare interrupt her. Spilling emotions to someone whose last name wasn't Potter or Weasley was unheard of. She reached out and fiddled with a pawn before dramatically sliding it into my rook and removing my dark piece from the board.

"Ever want something so badly... so much... and then be denied it?" I opened my mouth to answer, but she continued. "Would you ever settle for something quite similar... something that made you happy, but it just didn't fit right?" I took a moment to think about this. I wanted my mum back more than anything in the world. I prayed for some sort of mistake, some error, which would give my mother back to me alive and healthy. I was denied such happiness. So I settled for being raised by my father alone after that. I loved him and I was happy, but things would never completely fit the way it was when it was all three of us. Hermione took another two of my pawns. Knight advances, takes rook. "Is it worth all the suffering to get what you really want... if something else will make you almost as happy?"

"I think so," I whispered. I picked up my bishop and slid it across the board in front of the king. "Check." Hermione looked down at the board, puzzled. "Hermione, you're smart and you're pretty and you're talented... I can't imagine you not having something you want. Everything, Hermione, is right at your fingertips." I must've been concentrating too hard on being profound and didn't see Hermione's rook sneak inconspicuously across the board and plant itself before my king with a defiant smirk.

"Maybe... maybe not," she mused. We were silent, then, as the chess pieces hopped into their satchels and the two kings worked together to try and fold the chessboard. Hermione and I were friends, I suppose, but each day I saw her, she was a little more different. A little less like me, a bit farther. She was slipping away slowly, I knew that much, and I wondered whose arms she would fall into.

Just as I folded up the chessboard (somehow, two tiny pieces of ivory couldn't do it themselves), I caught a hulking shadow out of the corner of my eye near the slightly ajar portrait hole. I turned quickly, my heart pounding. Something wasn't right. The shadow remained there, but no one was standing nearby to create it.

I looked back at George, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs talking to Katie. She was smiling (a bit artificially, to be honest) but George was positively beside himself. Neither noticed the shadow. Hermione had curled up on a pouf with a book and there were about five other Gryffindors in the common room. I was the only one who noticed the shadow. When I turned to look back at it, it was gone.

Odd.

Curiosity killed the little girl without enough sense to keep her nose out of everyone else's business, as my father used to say. I walked over to the portrait hole and looked around. Nothing. I creaked the portrait open slowly and looked each way down the corridor. No one. I shrugged and turned to go back in, but the Fat Lady was gone, probably off to gossip in another portrait.

"Oh, bollocks," I muttered, scuffing my feet on the ground. A short walk would do me good anyway, as my legs were a bit stiff from being curled up in the chair. I looked down at my feet as I walked - as I always did - and saw that there was a smudge of something on the top of my left sneaker. I never was all that neat. I was so completely absorbed in looking at my shoes (never took much to amuse me), that I ran smack into someone.

I snapped my head up as I recoiled a few steps and gasped loudly. It was a shadow, standing straight in front of me in the center of the hallway. As much as I had been astounded by all the new things I encountered in the wizarding world, this most certainly was not anything I had encountered before; I had only read about it in books.

I backed away slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Get a teacher, my mind screamed. Someone had to know someone was in the castle, unauthorized. Someone who made himself Dim.

Dimming is a complicated magical process and is usually only available to those who are impaired in another magical field. Only the most powerful of wizards and witches could have Dimming capabilities along with full magical talent. Without the aid of a cloak, invisibility is impossible. The closest thing in the wizarding world to invisibility is to be Dim. Skilled observers are the only ones who can see those who enchant themselves Dim. Like Muggle eyes slip right over the Leaky Cauldron entrance, amateurish spectators don't see Dims; their eyes just aren't trained for it.

The shadow darkened and colorized but my eyes focused on a dark brown rod - a wand - pointed directly at me. My wide eyes remained frozen on the wand as the figure surrounding it became three-dimensional. A person materialized before me, but I couldn't quite make out the face under the dark hood of the flowing robes. I'm not quite sure I wanted to, as the voice was familiar.

"Out on your own. You never were bright. Pity, pity," the voice hissed, cold as death. The world around me dipped in temperature until it was freezing cold. I knew that wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was trembling badly, but I was sure it wasn't from the lack of warmth.

"Respori--"

Someone far away shouted, "NO!" and a blast of blue light shot out of the front of the hooded figure's wand. All of these things came together as my chest cavity tightened and I felt that my feet were no longer on the ground. A sharp pain in my head drew my senses together for one brief moment and then darkness closed around me.

***

"HELP!" I screamed as I bolted upright into a sitting position. My chest heaved as I easily inhaled lungs full of fresh, clean air. I ran a hand over my forehead and wiped sweat from my brow as I attempted to control my breathing. Third time this month. I could never remember the nightmare - the memory - being quite so frequent. I turned and looked out my window. For a moment, I was confused by the fact that it was still light out. Then I realized that it must have been nearly noon. Was it Sunday? That sounded right.

I threw my covers off and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. I placed my face in my hands for a moment, letting the last remnants of the nightmare slip out of my mind. It would never truly leave; I knew that much, but it was better not to dwell on it. Since when had I done things that were right for me?

The content of the dream, hellish as it was, was factual. It happened. An innocent chess game, a glance at a shadow, a five minute walk...

I suppose I might've been the one victim who got off the easiest.

The first day of the Scourge is a day that will be remembered in wizarding history for as long as we survive. Never before had innocent children been murdered in a place that was prided to be one of the safest in the wizarding world. Of the 2000 students and forty-six faculty members, 1808 students and nine faculty members were left standing at the end of five months. Standing, of course, in the most literal sense of the word. Many eventually went mad from the witness to bloodshed and the horror of lost security. Those who survived didn't have the luxury of a wiped memory.

It was an average Thursday afternoon in March 1996. Three days after Ron's birthday, if memory serves me. Students were wandering the grounds, doing homework or even playing chess.

I found out later that it would be the known as the deadly calm before the storm.

Over one hundred Death Eaters were able to slip into Hogwarts unnoticed. They were all Dimmed. A few other survivors reported seeing the "shadows" I did, but none were stupid enough to go out walking after it. Eventually, Professor McGonagall, either seeing a Dim herself or a student reporting it to her, alerted the students all over the grounds and sent them to their dormitories.

Meanwhile, I lay in the Charms hallway in a pool of blood.

I was never told how I got from the hallway to the infirmary. Someone did tell me that they saw a student carrying me, but couldn't discern an identity. I often wondered why the Death Eater hadn't killed me, when so many others had lost their lives in the following weeks. He - or she, maybe - must have been protecting their cover. Allow a student to go running to the Headmistress? Never. But kill them and arouse suspicion? Couldn't happen. I had been found near a staircase; it was supposed to be an accident.

Mine was hardly the only blood shed. The murders took place in the hallways, outside on the steps and within the dormitories. Some were subtle deaths, disguised as accidents. Others were blatant murders leaving no question as to the intent. Cold bodies were left lying across beds, on the stairs, and floating in the lake. The body of Rubeus Hagrid, my teacher, mentor and the first magical person I ever met after my mum, was found suspended in mid-air in the Great Hall, floating like some sort of oversized grotesque marionette puppet. The first day of April gave the world a look at what was left of Padma Patil in the Forbidden Forest. Laura Madley, a second year Hufflepuff, lay sprawled across the Quidditch stands, all of her blood neatly bottled in a vial beside her just a week before April ended.

We all thought it had come to an end when six days passed without deaths. We all paused to take a breath, to readjust to normalcy - well, as normal as things could be under the circumstances.

Maybe that's what made it so easy for the Death Eaters to catch us off-guard.

The May Day Massacre humbled us once more. Our lives would be forever changed after the horrific display of blood and killing. Of the remaining survivors of the Scourge and the Massacre, sixteen ended their own lives within three years of the horrendous event. Another eight were committed to the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's.

As I've said, I was one of the luckiest.

No one believed I had seen a Dim. Not at first, anyway. McGonagall dismissed it as a sharp knock to the head clouding my senses and that I dreamed up the entire matter after a nasty spill down the stairs. Then again, she may have just said that in case she feared the Dims were listening in. I would never know. George gave the standard, "I believe you thought you saw someone in the hallway" but never met my eyes when I discussed it. It was as though he knew something more about what had happened, but concealed it out of some sort of embarrassment or guilt. I never knew why or what his secret was. I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to know.

Rubbing my face vigorously to physically wake myself up and banish the memories from my mind, I stood and walked to the kitchen yawning. I stumbled over something soft and furry and caught myself before tumbling to the ground.

"Meow?" Stevie asked. I bent down and stroked my cat's head; he purred at my soft touch.

"Troublesome little bugger," I said, ruffling his fur. He wove in and out between my legs as I walked through the doorway into the kitchen. "You think you can just lounge around here and drink all my milk and expect me to tolerate you, don't you?" He just widened his big, blue kitty eyes and nuzzled my left ankle before trotting off.

I started for the coffeepot when I realized that a glass of wine would better calm my nerves. It had to be after five somewhere in the world. After pouring myself one, and curling up in my big, soft armchair that I had seen my dad read the newspaper in every morning for years, I was finally calm enough to prepare for the day. My date with Sean wasn't for another three hours according to the clock on my kitchen wall (Oy, I had slept in late.). Plenty of time to take a long, hot bath, catch up on some reading and be ready in time for his arrival.

I had only put away the wine and washed my wine glass when the upbeat song of "I Put My Hand in There" from Hello, Dolly! resounded through my house. I'd had extra time on my hands one rainy afternoon and had enchanted my doorbell to play different Muggle Broadway songs.

I answered the door, still in my pajamas and with my hair looking like a hippogriff had slept in it. Shelly was there, a large bag over her shoulder. I kicked myself for completely forgetting that she was coming over to, as she put it, "prepare me for the first night of the rest of my life." As soon as I had told her about Sean asking me to be his date, her switch had been flipped on Red Alert.

"What's up?" I yawned as I let her in the house. She stepped in excitedly and embraced me in a warm hug.

"Good afternoon, dearie! Well, I just can't believe you're not dressed yet. You lazy slug," she teased. I smirked, knowing full well that she loved to rag on me because of my late rising status. "Now where shall I set up?" She looked around the room distractedly before settling her eyes on me again.

"Er... set up?"

"Oh, over here will do nicely," she decided. She crossed the room to an empty spot and pulled her bag off her shoulder. I watched, as she seemed to take a never-ending assortment of beauty products, both magical and Muggle, out of her bag and assemble a parlor table and mirror.

"Um... what're you doing?" I asked, running a hand through my hair. Ugh... a shower was definitely in order.

"Getting ready to get you ready, of course," she said, as though I had just asked her what my own name was. "Now why don't you take a shower and it'll be easier for me to work with your hair all nice and wet and clean and straight then?"

"I've got almost three hours until I'm going to be picked up..." I told her. "Why don't we just--" Shelly looked scandalized at my very words. "Or I could go take a shower now." Forcing away another yawn, I crossed to my bathroom, yanked a towel out of the hall closet and disappeared behind the closed door.

Thirty minutes later, the door swung open again and I stepped out with my body wrapped in one towel and my hair in another. After changing into old jeans and a t-shirt (Muggle clothes were SO much more comfortable), I pulled the towel off my head and shook my hair like a wet dog. I may have had to get up ridiculously early but there was no chance I was going to wear scratchy dress robes for any longer than I had to.

With flair and an overexaggerated sidestep, Shelly pulled the chair she'd Summoned from my kitchen table and gestured for me to sit. I sat, smiling sleepily from the warmth of the water I'd had in the shower that made my muscles turn to jelly. I looked at my reflection, crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue.

"A bit giddy this afternoon?" Shelly asked with a smile as she looked up from her bag of make-up.

"Uh huh." I yawned one last time and shook my head, all at once realizing how hungry I was. I began to stand, but Shelly placed her hands on my shoulders and stopped me.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, in a disapproving motherly sort of voice.

I groaned softly and lowered myself back into the chair, wondering how I had ever let Shelly talk me into this.

"I have until seven-thirty," I had told her. "Can't I just have some time to sit down and relax and--oof!" Shelly had grabbed my hand and plopped me down in the chair before I could finish my sentence. She had fretted over my hair and finally decided to straighten it even more and curl soft tendrils around my face. I wanted to look at it, but she refused to let me see until she was all done. She even tried to put Muggle make-up on me ("Spells don't work nearly as well as Muggle powder, Anya."), but I drew the line when it got excessive. My freckles were covered for no one.

At six-thirty, she informed me that neither of my two dress robes was dressy enough for the event. Thus, she (surprise, surprise), brought over some of her own.

I was touched by her attention to making sure I had the night of my life, but she just got a bit overwhelming. I was just thinking of the nicest way to tell her to back off a little, when she pulled the most beautiful dress I had ever seen in my entire life out of her brown bag.

Pale blue with long, delicate sleeves, the dress must have cost a fortune. A thin black stitching of flowers traveled all the way around the bottom hem. It was the exact same dress I had seen in Witch Weekly. It looked too short for Shelly, but just the right size for me.

"Try it on," she invited, amused, as my low-hanging jaw slowly closed.

"I couldn't..." I whispered. "I'd tear it or... or... I'd ruin it or something. Oh, it must have cost a fortune!"

"Don't worry about it, love. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but now is a better occasion, don't you think?" She turned her head sideways and held out the dress for me.

"I... it's beautiful..." I said, taking it gently from her. I was almost afraid I would damage it by merely holding onto it. "I... I don't know how to thank you... all this..."

"Just let me be maid of honor at your wedding," Shelly said with a smile, "And we'll call it even." I smiled and nodded as I looked at the dress. I imagined myself in it dreamily.

"I need someone to give me away, don't I?" I said absently, still focused on the dress. I looked up at Shelly, whose smile had faded. "What is it?" I asked. She had a funny look on her face, as though she was casting pity on me.

"You're a lot stronger than you think, Anya," she said slowly.

"Oh, no. Don't you start with that you-lost-your-whole-family-you're-the-strongest-person-I-know rubbish because you just want to make my ears turn red. Besides, you know I couldn't've made it through without my friends," I replied before I let myself get upset. Shelly never could quite understand how I could get through life without having any family left. Sometimes, I didn't even know.

The smile returned to Shelly's face. "Go get dressed then, silly." I grinned broadly, the tension eased and headed for the bathroom. I emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed in the blue robes.

As I was changing, I found myself wondering if maybe Muggles ran the company Sean worked for and that was why he had avoided telling me about his workplace. I asked her this as soon as I came out of the bathroom. She came up to me, fussing with the hem and answered.

"Well, it is run by a wizard, but the company also sells to Muggles. I talked to Sean about it and he told me that wizarding attire would be best, as it's held at the Golden Snitch in Diagon Alley which is very off-limits for Muggles. Oh, and I remembered the name of the company: Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises."

Uh-oh.

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows rose nearly to my hairline. Perhaps I had heard wrong. There was no way it could be the same company.

"Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises," Shelly repeated absently as she adjusted my hair. "It's kind of like Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but PJPJE sells to Muggles, too. A pity, too, as they can't use too much magic in their products."

"Oh," I said profoundly. I told myself it wasn't a big deal. It's not like he'd deliberately kept the information from me. But had he been vague on purpose? Doubtful, as Sean didn't come across as the type of person who would hide the information. Then again, I didn't know him all that well. Maybe he had felt awkward about it after hearing about me working at 3W.

"Love, you look pale as a ghost; are you sure you don't want any make--" began Shelly, but I cut her off.

"No freckle-hider," I said. She giggled at this and put her hands up in mock surrender. She circled me like a vulture, studying me carefully and making minute adjustments.

"Then I believe I'm finished," she announced, placing her hands on my shoulders. "How's this for 'the pretty girl's mousy friend'?" Shelly asked in a whisper as she turned me around to face the mirror.

Whoever was reflected in the mirror was most certainly not me. Her dark brown hair fell gracefully over her shoulders and soft tendrils of the same colored locks gently framed her face. Her green eyes shone brightly through dark-as-coal eyelashes and her red lips were slightly parted in wonder. The witch in the mirror was not me. The witch before me was beautiful.

I winked with my left eye. So did the reflection. I winked my right eye. So did the reflection. I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue. So did the reflection.

"What have you done to me?" I whispered. Shelly's reflection frowned.

"You don't like it?" she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"No, no," I said quickly, still trying to convince myself that the mirror was showing the true reflection. "It's just that... I look so... not... me. I look beautiful." Shelly broke out into a wide grin.

"Oh, you are beautiful, dearie! I just turned your quiet beautiful into a loud beautiful." She clapped excitedly.

"Deafening," I agreed, recognizing my freckles and beginning to accept the illusion. I touched my face and the witch in the mirror did the same. "This is wonderful." Shelly waved off my words.

"I know I got a bit pushy with you and Sean earlier..." Understatement, I thought. "I just wanted to fix things." I smiled at her and pulled gently on one of the curls near my face. I giggled, far too easily amused, as it bounced upwards.

"You're just a grown-up little kid, you know that?" Shelly said with a smirk. "Now stand up and let me see how you look." Not used to the shoes Shelly had lent me, I wobbled a little but straightened and held my balance. Shelly circled me slowly, blue eyes studying me carefully.

"Hmm... shorter heels, I think," she said. A quick murmur of a spell and I felt myself sink a few inches closer to the ground. "Ah, much better. Let's see... maybe if I pulled back some of your hair... just half up... curl the ponytail..." She tried this, wrapping the pulled back hair around her wand and whispering, "Circlium." "Honey, you are an absolute dream come true!" she said, stepping back to look at me. "If that man doesn't fall head over heels in love with you, I will give up matchmaking and makeovers forever." I almost laughed at this last remark, as Shelly just wouldn't be Shelly without her beautician-esque qualities.

The sound of "The Music and the Mirror" from A Chorus Line playing through my house distracted Shelly from her alterations.

"He's here!" Shelly clapped excitedly. "Oh, you wait in the bedroom then, love, and I'll come back and get you when it's time, all right?"

"But I'm ready..." I began, confused. Shelly put her hands on her hips and shook her head impatiently at me.

"That doesn't matter! It's customary to make a man wait... Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"I guess..." I said uncertainly.

"You look wonderful, dearie. You're going to make him melt into a little puddle at the sight of you." She gave me one more once over as the volume of the music rose several levels, meaning Sean was getting impatient with the doorbell. Shelly nervously fixed a ringlet of hair and scurried to the door. She waved me towards the bedroom and I went inside, my stomach tying in knots.

I sat patiently on the bed, reciting all the different species of dragons, an old nervous habit of mine. Antipodean Opaleye... Chinese Fireball...I heard Shelly's tinkling laughter and Sean's low voice asking where I was.

"Oh, she's just putting the finishing touches on her make-up. She'll be out in a few minutes," Shelly replied. I scowled at the slightly flirtatious tone that her voice took. Common Welsh Green... Hebridean Black... They made small talk for a few moments and then I heard Shelly say loudly, "Why don't you have a seat and I'll see if she's ready yet?" Ah, my cue, finally. I stood and smoothed down my dress. Hungarian Horntail... Norwegian Ridgeback...

Shelly poked her head in my room.

"Time to go, love," she said excitedly. I took a deep breath, telling myself that it was only a date and it was only a party. Where everyone else is going to be positively beautiful and you're just an awkward mousy little nothing, my inner cynic taunted.

"Shut it," I muttered. Shelly looked at me, hurt. "No, not you," I said quickly. She frowned and her eyes searched the room quickly. Finally, she shook her head and opened the door wider for me to exit. I slowly (and solely out of fear of falling with the new heels on) left the room and walked quietly into the sitting room.

Sean Ludlam was standing in the idle of the room, holding a small replica of an Ashwinder, my absolute favorite magical beast. The tiny creature is pale-gray with glowing red eyes. The actual creature only lives for an hour before dissolving into a heap of ashes. Their eggs, unhatched and frozen, are important, irreplaceable ingredients in Love Potions.

I cleared my throat politely and Sean looked up abruptly. His lips parted slightly as he saw me and his fingers bobbled with the Ashwinder. He was able to snatch it out of the air with his left hand quickly (Seeker material, definitely) and placed it on the tea table, his eyes still not leaving me.

"You..." he began, and then swallowed nervously, "You look very beautiful." I blushed red and caught myself before I could shake my head.

"Thank you," I said quietly. It was just then that I noticed his attire. He was wearing dark blue robes with a light blue tie that had palm trees on it. It somehow seemed to match his dirty blonde hair and crystal azure eyes, if only in a boyish sort of way. "You don't clean up so bad yourself," I offered. He looked down at himself, breaking his eyes from me for the first time, and chuckled.

"What, this old thing?" he said with a dismissive wave. I laughed as he offered his arm to me. "Shall we go?"

***

From the moment we entered the Golden Snitch, the timid Anya inside me wanted to run home, away from the loads of witches and wizards present, and hide beneath the covers of her bed with her cat, Stevie. Any chance of that happening dissipated when we stepped inside and handed our coats to the bouncer, Marcus Flint. He nodded us through after checking our names off the list and then he grunted and pointed to an open guest book on a tiny table with two quills lying in the crease.

I smiled politely and let Sean lead me to the table. He picked up a pen and signed his name is flourishing script. I picked up the other and signed my name inconspicuously beneath it.

Sean Ludlam

Anya Parker

Our names looked so... strange right next to each other. They looked so completely different that it almost seemed they belonged together.

You're overanalyzing this, Parker, I told myself. Shut it and have a good time. I smiled up at Sean as I set the quill down. He was running his fingers gently over the list of names, looking confused. He seemed to catch himself and shake his head furiously. I pretended not to notice what he'd done when he looked over and smiled at me uneasily.

"Why do they keep a guest book?" I asked. Most company parties, at least for 3W, were come and go as you please rather than a checking in and out sort of thing.

At that moment, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. And it wasn't some pathetic five-piece band wannabe. It was a full orchestra with an expansive woodwind section and resonating brass. The percussion was soft, but accented the song so wonderfully you would think it was controlled by magic all on its own.

"Care to dance?" Sean asked, offering a hand. I smiled shyly and took it.

"Sure, stranger." The next moment found me in his arms towards the edge of the dance floor. I felt warm there; maybe not safe (Not that I thought he wasn't a gentleman, but I always have had trouble trusting new people), but warm was definitely a step in that direction.

We didn't speak, but it was a well-filled silence. The music and lively chatter of the guests around us filled the room so much that speaking would only make it more crowded. It also gave me a chance to get a good look around.

Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises definitely had money to throw around, or at least played off the façade that they did quite well. I had heard from the Prophet's Society pages that The Golden Snitch was a seedy place, but I could see nothing seedy about it. Great banners with the company name emblazoned across the center festooned the walls. The text flashed between green and orange, the company colors. There were thin strands of fairy lights lined the borders of these banners and twinkled all different colors.

The main dance floor was filled with couples, but enough room to move around a bit. The orchestra was off to the left side of the Snitch and one large table raised high above the floor was occupied by what looked to be the higher authorities of the company.

Thirteen people sat at the table, six of them women and the other seven men. Hmm... it was nice to see that even if Parker Jackalope was a royal pain in the arse, he wasn't a sexist. My face fell slightly when I saw that all the females were drop-dead gorgeous and seemed to be very scantily clad - even for a flashy party. Five of the six were each leaning very close to the nearest male, giggling shamelessly. It was rather pathetic actually.

The only female who seemed to have respect for herself (and taste in clothing) was seated at the far left end, tapping her quill on the side of her water glass. With an annoying expression, she brushed a lock of dark blonde hair behind her ear and began to scratch on her parchment.

My eyes wandered from her and started down the table... but they stopped on the man in the middle.

Parker Jackalope.

My first impression of him was that he was almost handsome in a dark, sinister sort of way. He had black eyes set back in his face and dark hair combed with the utmost precision. From what I could see, he seemed to be a well-built man with squared shoulders and a jaw to match. When I had finished looking him over, the only part of my initial judgment that remained was the sinister part. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would think nothing of shutting down 3W without so much as a blink of an eye.

His gaze shifted from the entrance and locked with mine, so penetrating that I shivered. I stepped forward Sean almost involuntarily and he wrapped his arms more snugly around me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking down at me. I hadn't noticed until then how tall he actually was. I nodded and rested my head softly against his chest, closing my eyes halfway. It was amazing how long the song was, but I didn't particularly mind.

So that was the man that wanted to take Canary Creams off the 3W market. Bubotuber-sucking prat. His company had enough money to throw elaborate parties such as these every year and he still felt the need to send off stuffy copyright notices to competitors. They were probably even falsified reports, too, as it was far too much of a coincidence that someone with the last name Jackalope was tied to the registration of Canary Creams in the first place.

The song came to a slow, sweet ending and I pulled slowly out of his arms.

"That was nice," I said shyly. He smiled and agreed.

"Sean! Sean, old sport!" a voice called from across the noisy room. A few partygoers looked disapprovingly over their shoulders and raised their snobbish noses at the jovial man breaking his way through the crowd.

The first time I laid my eyes on the man, I had the distinct feeling that I had met him before. In fact, there was something about him that was so familiar that I was positive I had seen him somewhere before. But another part of my mind insisted that it was more the mannerisms of the wizard that I recognized than physical features.

"Hello," Sean said politely, as though he didn't know the man from Merlin. The new stranger, who had dark brown hair with matching eyes and a nose that looked just a bit too small for his face, didn't seem to notice.

"Don't think I've introduced myself yet," the stranger said with an apologetic smile. "The name's Gatsby. Jay Gatsby." If I had been drinking something, I'm sure I would have choked on it. Since my father had given me my mum's old dusty copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, it had been my favorite Muggle work of literature. My mind spun as Sean and Gatsby shook hands.

Meeting a man that seemed terribly familiar to me and happened to have the exact same name as my favorite literary character cranked the night's weird-o-meter up to a solid eight. I watched as Sean and Gatsby exchanged conversation, Gatsby becoming more and more exuberant as the discussion continued.

"And who is this lovely lady?" Gatsby asked, seeming to notice me for the first time.

"This is my date, Anya Parker," Sean said, looking mildly annoyed. It didn't escape me that he accented the word "my" as Gatsby lifted my hand gently and pressed his lips to it. A shiver ran down my spine at this, but I wasn't entirely sure it was a bad thing. Sean didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't say anything.

"What do you think of the party so far, old sport?" Gatsby asked. His accent was definitely faked and I could not tell exactly what sort of voice tone he was going for. "Jackalope is doing a fine job of ignoring everyone," he said with a nod towards the head table.

Sean smirked at this and relaxed a bit.

"As always," he said. "The smarmy bloke thinks he's too good to consort with us pitiful employees. No wonder nobody likes him." This seemed to be just the thing Gatsby wanted to hear. They continued to talk and I kept an attentive eye on the both of them. The more relaxed Sean got around Gatsby, the more excited my "literary hero" became. Sean wasn't aware of it, but Gatsby was asking a lot more questions than he was answering and was skillfully dodging most questions asked of him. There was definitely something amiss about Jay Gatsby.

It wasn't until two hours later that a thin-faced white-haired wizard stood up at the front of the head table and requested that everyone take their seats. Sean took my hand and led me through the crowd (Gatsby had disappeared a while ago, looking for another employee to suck information from) and we snagged a pair of seats at a corner table.

"That bloke was strange," Sean said, seating himself beside me. I nodded vehemently. "Know him?"

"No," I said slowly, "I can't help but think I've seen him somewhere before, though..." I shook my head. "I'll think of it sooner or later. Actually, he behaved more as though he knew you."

Now it was Sean's turn to shake his head. "Never saw him before in my life... not around the shop anyway."

"Shop?"

"Well, that's where I work at PJPJE. I help in the shop, testing out new products. Drives my sister bonkers when I give her children prototypes." We both had a good laugh over this. We talked family for a while and I found out that he had two sisters, but was closest with his cousin, Maureen, a professional Quidditch agent who had an exceptional talent for chess on the side.

"She's wonderful, really," Sean said. "Horribly arrogant when she wins at chess - and she always does --" I had a brief flash of my nightmare, but shook it away quickly. "--But a wonderful person. Strong, too. She's always someone I can go to for advice."

He told me a little bit about his sisters, Evelyn and Gwendolyn, and I avoided as many questions about my own life as possible. Unfortunately, he was a lot better at getting information out of me than out of Gatsby and I ended up giving him the Witch's Digest version of my life.

"When I was fifteen, my mother died and my older brother disappeared within a few months... My grandparents - both sets - died when I was very little. For a while, all I had was my father; he was a Muggle. He died of heart problems a few years ago," I said to my now-empty wine glass, not wanting to look up at him. I would get the standard look of pity and then the hollow "I'm so sorry" of someone who's never experienced so much as a sick pet. I finally raised my eyes to meet his.

"I know it hurts," he said softly, placing his hand on top of mine. "It doesn't get any easier with time, does it?" I shook my head slowly. He had been there. He had been there. Before I could break the ensuing awkward silence, a loud voice resounded through the Golden Snitch and all attention snapped forward.

"Welcome, all, to the Fiftieth Anniversary Party of Parker Jackalope's Practical Joke Enterprises!" the thin-faced wizard announced. The room exploded in cheers and only sparks from the speaker's wand would calm down the crowd again. "As you all know, PJ Enterprises leads the entire wizarding and Muggle worlds as the most successful practical joke suppliers in the United Kingdom!" More cheers broke off and I felt like a traitor to Fred and George as I clapped along. "And before we get to the speaker of the evening," the wizard said, with a nod towards Jackalope, who only stared stonily back, "I would like to introduce the company's top investor, Mr. Draco Malfoy."

For a moment, I was too stunned to clap as Draco took the spotlight, but finally was able to hit my hands together a few times before the noise in the place subsided. Draco Malfoy was the creator of Malfosoft, the wizarding version of the Muggle Internet. As quick as the traditional owls were, e-owls were faster. As informative as the gigantic wizarding libraries were, the Malfosoft Wizarding Web offered endless, accurate information in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that's why so many people despised him.

In VWII, the majority of the wizarding world assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps and become one of the most powerful Death Eaters alive. After his mum, Narcissa, was Sponged in early 1997, some say he became a special spy for McGonagall and got a special place of honor in the Order of the Phoenix. Others say he went out for blood on his own terms. Whatever it was, he became one of the most valuable weapons we had in the war. Those that had him pegged for an evildoer ate their words. I don't think they ever forgave him for that.

Through all my reminiscing, Draco gave a speech about success in the wizarding world and the need for commerce to be of top-notch quality and how he was investing in the future. Well-rehearsed, too, I was reluctant to admit. He had a way with oration so that the entire audience was attentive to his every word. Still listening, I let my eyes wander around the crowd until they fell on Ginny Weasley, Draco's current "conquest" as the Prophet's Rita Skeeter disciple Rachel Ratliff said in a most scathing column the previous November.

Ginny was beaming with something that looked like pride. Draco's eyes flicked over to her every few moments and he would look right through her as though she wasn't even there. A flash of hurt flitted through her eyes each time this happened. It was at times like this that I believed the horrible rumors that were circulating about him. I just wished Ginny wouldn't be so damn blind sometimes.

Draco closed his speech and nodded at the crowd as if to say, "I was just the event of the evening; now you may go on with your insignificant lives." The man's pomposity drove me positively bonkers, but far be it from me to make judgments.

Just as Jackalope took the microphone, I started to feel a funny tickling in the back of my throat. In an attempt to ignore it, I finished the end of my fourth (or was it fifth?) glass of wine to subdue it, but soon it became a raw feeling that descended down my windpipe and into my lungs.

"Excuse me for a moment," I rasped to Sean.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice, eyebrows furrowed together in concern. I nodded.

"Ladies room," I lied, forced a smile, and made my way inconspicuously out of the main hall. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the gradual feeling of my chest closing. I pulled my wand out of my robes and did an Airway Opening Charm on myself, and the discomfort slowly dissipated. I opened my eyes again and took a moment to reorient myself before starting back for the main banquet hall. Before I could step through the curtains, however, I was distracted by the sound of conspiratorial whispering.

"I still think that Jackalope is clean, but just plays hardball, the smarmy git," someone was saying in a low tone.

"No way; there's something fishy about this Jackalope bloke. He's rude to his employers because he doesn't want them getting close," another voice replied.

"As much as I hate to say it, Malfoy would never invest in a company if he didn't make sure they were clean. Have you any idea how his social standing would collapse if it got out that he invested in a company that was involved in illegal activities?"

"Maybe this is a one-time only thing, then, trying to shut us down." I stepped back and peered around a corner. Between a pair of potted plants, two men were watching Jackalope give his speech. One I couldn't identify. The other was Gatsby.

"Not a chance. This guy is business-like: wants to eliminate competition." I watched their mannerisms and analyzed their speech carefully, trying to understand. Then, as obvious as the pain of a Hippocampus stepping on my foot, it hit me.

George and Fred.

"What are you two doing here?" I demanded in a low hiss as I stalked up behind the both of them. The two men spun quickly, looking as though their hands were caught in the Canary Cream jar.

"Excuse me, miss, but this is a private matter," the second man - who had never given me a pseudonym - said, squaring his shoulders indignantly. Fred. Thought it was a stranger's face, only Fred himself could only duplicate the expression he wore when in trouble and was trying to get out of it.

"Yeah, I'll bet it's a private matter, Fred. Don't look at me so shocked; the two of you couldn't impersonate your way out of a paper bag. Gatsby, you really should have come up with a better name. I mean, really, George, you can't possibly pick my favorite literary character, do a terrible impression of him and then expect me not to know it's you! What do you think you were playing at?" The twins, not looking at all alike, stared at me soundlessly.

"How did you know?" Fred finally got out.

"A combination of overhearing your conversation and knowing your mannerisms better than your mother does. Now I'm trying to have a perfectly lovely date - which I was doing until my stupid throat started hurting - and I've got to come back here and tell the two of you that spying on Jackalope not only is wrong, but will never hold up in a magical court of law."

"But we're this close, Anya. No one around here likes Jackalope. He's a conceited, horrible person and no one would be surprised if he pulled a copyright scam. Please don't blow our cover," Fred begged, clasping his hands together.

"Your throat hurts?" George repeated, frowning.

"All right," I sighed. "I won't say anything. But I do know we can win this thing without the two of you sinking to their level."

"But it's so much fun sinking to pond-scum depths," Fred said with a grin. George nodded. I had to roll my eyes at them and made a mental note to ask Angelina where she got the patience. I also made a note to tell them someday that pond scum floated on top of the water.

"Go back to your date," George said with a nod towards the curtains. "I'm sure you're already missed." I couldn't tell exactly what he meant by that last statement but I didn't inquire.

"Don't get caught, you two," I warned and tried my best to give a peeved-Molly-Weasley look. All three of us ended up in giggles. I regained my composure and went back to the banquet hall, Exploding-Snap-faced. I slipped between the curtains and slid back into my seat beside Sean.

He leaned over and asked in a low tone, "Are you all right?" I nodded at him and slid my hand into his under the table, feeling a bit guilty for having lied to him. He looked surprised for a moment, but then closed his hand around mine as we watched Jackalope's speech come to its end. From what I did hear of the speech, he seemed to amuse himself by sending out backhanded compliments to employees that were doing well in the company and snide remarks about those who weren't doing so great. In my expert opinion, the man was a great big prat.

"So may we all raise our glasses to another full year of prosperity for me and for my business," he said, tone full of arrogance, as his hand lifted his wine glass. Before he could make a toast, a loud voice called out from the back of the room.

"Daddy!" it called. The voice was high-pitched, female most definitely. I turned with the rest of the crowd and laid my eyes on a very tipsy witch with long blonde hair and green eyes dull with incoherence. She staggered from side to side, holding a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky in one hand and wiggling the fingers of her free hand at Jackalope.

Jackalope, meanwhile, turned purple and looked as furious as he was embarrassed. The other twelve company officials looked mortified, with the exception of the classy woman, who looked slightly entertained. Finally, he sputtered, "Hunter, what are you doing here?"

No wonder no one knew of the mysterious son of the company's president. Hunter Jackalope was a woman.

"Daddy, I just wanted to come to the -hic- party!" she giggled, waving at all the guests. "But you forgot to send me an invitation." At this, she began to cry into her free hand dramatically with loud sobs. "I'm trying to make you happy, Daddy! I even made sure those mean Weasleys don't hurt your business!" At this, she slumped to the ground and several men rushed to her side. She staggered to her feet and pushed them away as I shot a horrified look at Sean. He was looking back at me and I knew he'd made the Weasley connection. For a moment, I was mortified; he would probably feel terrible for inviting me to the Golden Snitch to celebrate the success of a rival company. I hope my eyes forgave him.

The next few minutes were a blur, passing by with spurts of activity. Jackalope had abandoned his spot in front of the crowd and must've left his dignity behind as well, as he was calling out for stretcher-bearers as he knelt beside his unconscious daughter. He whispered her name frantically, stroking her hair. The arrogant man with the pompous aura disintegrated until all that was left was a worried father.

It wasn't until after Jackalope left the Snitch with his daughter and the stretcher-bearers that the party began to disperse.

"Want to get out of here?" Sean asked, leaning close to my ear. I nodded up at him and allowed him to lead me out. I wasn't quite sure how we got through the crowd and got our cloaks, or how we got out of Diagon Alley, but the next thing I remember is walking down Siegel Court (my street in Hogsmeade), arm-in-arm with Sean.

"What was Hunter saying about... about your friend's business?" I was silent for a moment and he didn't implore further.

"A little while ago, someone - we thought it was Jackalope himself - sent a letter to 3W saying that we had a product that was a copyright infringement with a PJPJE product and we had to take it off the market or..." I paused a moment. "Or we would have to risk legal action." I looked up at him and was surprised to see him smirking, his features dimly lit in the pale moon glow.

"And you still went to the party with me?" he said, sounding a bit impressed.

"Well, I didn't exactly know until Shelly told me just before you arrived."

"So you wouldn't've gone with me if you'd have known?"

I shook my head quickly. "I would have gone... but I would have had a miserable time because I would know the entire time that it was you behind it all," I teased.

"Ah, my secret!" he cried out into the night air. I giggled and shushed him. We continued down the block, talking and laughing about the evening.

"That Gatsby was a bit of a nutter, wasn't he?" Sean remarked casually as we came up to my front door. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

"Quite bonkers, indeed," I replied, unlocking my door with my wand. He smiled warmly at me. "I had a wonderful time," I said quietly.

"Me, too," he murmured. "I'd like to see you again."

And again and again, I added in my head.

"So would I," I said aloud. We were getting closer, very slowly, and the next thing I knew, my lips were pressed against his. His lips were a bit rougher than I'd expected, but they pressed very tenderly against mine. When we parted, I felt a bit dizzy, like a sixteen-year-old who had just sneaked behind the Three Broomsticks to kiss her boyfriend.

I wasn't sure exactly what I said next. Maybe my memory was fuzzy that evening because of the five glasses of wine I'd had, but the parts that were crystal clear were the touch of his hand and the sound of his voice and the moments his eyes met mine. But the next sharp memory I had was of another gentle kiss and him Apparating away with a wave.

Giggling like a first year, I went inside the house, closing the door softly behind me. I didn't have any nightmares that night.

To be continued...