The Paean

Chapter One: The Chinese Fireball

"If you ever get close to a human
And human behaviour
Be ready to get confused
There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic
To human behaviour
But yet so, yet so irresistible."

-Bjork, "Human Behaviour, from her album Debut

Tuesday, 23 October 2007 1:00 p.m.

It did not matter to Susan that she lived alone in a large flat with her two dogs, Archibald and Mr. Tiffers, her cat Duchess, and her owl Athena. It did not matter to Susan that she did not know how to swim, or apply makeup properly. It did not matter that her best friend, Eleanor Branstone had recently taken up smoking cigarettes, dying her hair black, and often called her about silly melodramatic events, for instance, this morning; Eleanor had called to warn her about the Chinese Fireball that she claimed would lead to her demise.

But it did matter to her that she always have her coffee in the morning, and that she had a bit of toast before she left for St. Mungo's. If she didn't have her coffee and toast in the morning, it was sure to be an awful day.

It usually was.

Susan Elizabeth Bones sat in a small café, the The Red Dragon, in the heart of Diagon Alley, stared wistfully at the blueness of the sky, and admired the strange dragon décor that adorned the walls. This morning, she'd overslept and had not had her coffee and toast. And as usual, it would surely mean a bad day.

It always did.

Susan Bones stared mutely into the eyes of Robert Remington, her beau. Her fiancé. The love of her life.

"Susan, you know I love you. ...And it has been a fantastic two years. I mean, I don't think I've ever felt this strongly about anyone. But I'm going through a bit of a...a self-centred period. You know." Robert had said that five minutes earlier.

He had eyed Susan warily, a minute after pausing, and he continued on, praying that she would handle this well.

"So...I mean...we're both young, going on 28. And...I think...I think we should take a break," Robert said. "I mean, I'm not ready for a commitment of this magnitude. I'm still a young man."

Robert had finished strongly, staring into Susan's eyes, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Meanwhile, Susan was staring back at Robert wondering how quickly she could escape the café if she used the Avada curse on him. According to her calculations, she would have five minutes before the Aurors would get there, and that would be just enough time to escape to Eleanor's house, and hide all evidence of wrongdoing. Susan frowned at the thought of Eleanor.

Eleanor...this was all her fault. If she hadn't called me this morning with all of her stupid predictions, and trivial matters, I would have had my coffee and toast, and this would not have happened.

Susan Bones sighed and frowned before speaking, her mouth pinched in a firm line as she tried to make her voice steady and even.

"Who is she," Susan asked flatly. "I'll only ask you three times."

Robert shifted uncomfortably and tried to smile warmly. The effect that did not work, instead of looking like an innocent man, he vaguely resembled that of a small boy who had just gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar right after his mother had expressly forbidden him to stay away.

"There's no one...Susan...no one but you," Robert said his voice dripping syrup.

Susan raised an eyebrow, picked up her cup with her pinkie and sipped her tea delicately.

"That's two," Susan continued calmly.

Robert shifted uncomfortably and stared back at Susan cautiously.

"Susan...there's no one....I love you...," Robert said, his voice raising an octave. "...I-I just, I'm not ready for this."

"Last chance, Robert," Susan said still drinking her tea.

"Susie Q, would I cheat on you with someone else?" Robert had finally said, affixing her with a wide, toothy grin.

Suddenly, a petite women in a horrible paisley colour dress dropped her fork and noticed the tiny rat that had just darted back into the wall; a purple-faced man got up to use the restroom after totally bungling his first job interview; the shop across the street closed down for lunch an hour early; a young man on a bike sped down the pavement as a tired, old man chased after him yelling in an unknown foreign language; and a woman had changed her mind about going into the Gambole and Jape's Joke Shop, and decided that perhaps she would try Weasley Wizarding Wheezes today.

And Susan Bones' ex-fiancé was no more.

Instead, there sat a small toad, bearing a tiny gold chain around his neck. Susan grinned to herself.

"Now...that's a much better look for you, Robert," Susan beamed.

She stood up and walked over to the little toad. Picking him up, she gingerly placed him in her purse. Susan dropped a few galleons on the table for the waiter and exited the café whistling to herself as she walked along. When she finally reached a small park bench across from one of the more expensive robe shops, she sat down and pulled out the little toad. Susan held him delicately in the palm of her hand and smiled down upon him.

"Now...tell me the truth Robert or....I'll turn you into a roach next time," Susan replied in a sugary sweet tone of voice.

Setting the toad down on the park bench, she mumbled the counter curse that would turn Robert back to a man. Susan smiled in amusement back at the fully-grown man who was once her fiancé.

"How DARE you? Who do you think you...ARE? "demanded a seething Robert.

Robert leaned forward, as a tiny bead of sweat ran down his tanned face. His shoulders were hunched in a predatory manner, and he suddenly gave Susan the distinct impression of a mad, escaped gorilla, just like the photos she and Eleanor had often giggled about when they ventured into a muggle supermarket, and sniggered over the sensational stories that their tabloids had written. In her mind's eye, Susan could see the headline with flawless clarity. Mad Gorilla Escapes From London Zoo: Pummels Little Old Lady When She Refused to Give Up her Lunch Money. This, of course, prompted Susan to launch into a tiny set of chuckles, further provoking an angry Robert to repeat his dark tirade.

"FECKING LAUGHING, ARE YOU?! WELL! WELL?! Who do YOU think you are?!"

Susan affixed him with a semi-exasperated look and tilted her head.

"I think I preferred you before," Susan replied snidely. "A toad is much more obedient, and doesn't talk nearly as much."

Robert stared at her, his face a ball of red, and his blond hair a mess. He stood up from the bench and rounded on Susan.

"You bitch," he spat.

Susan sighed, her patience growing thin.

"Is that the most intelligent you can say Robert? You really must be angry to resort to something so base," Susan responded dryly, her mouth pinched a bit.

Robert's fist began to shake at his side.

"That's your problem. Too damn arrogant. No man wants to be with a woman who has more balls than him!"

Susan winced.

"Ouch. That hurt, and coming from such a big, strong, man. I don't think I can go on any longer," Susan mocked.

Robert did go on, his face still raging red with wrath.

"You aren't even a good lay. You suck in bed, Susan. You don't care about yourself; you make yourself so undesirable. Some days, I hate looking at you. And that's why I've been sleeping with Hannah for the past nine months. AND I proposed to her, Susan. We're getting married," Robert seethed.

All the colour drained from Susan's face. Hannah and Robert? Susan stared up at Robert, her eyes disbelieving.

"H-Hannah? You've been with Hannah," Susan whispered.

Robert stared back at her smugly, and watched her face with mild satisfaction.

"I didn't want to say it Susan. I wanted us to end quietly, nicely, and I wanted to wait so that Hannah could tell you...but you didn't want to wait, you had to make a spectacle of yourself," Robert continued.

Susan could feel herself moving, her legs moving and shaking unsteadily. She didn't know where she was going, all she knew was that she needed to get away from Robert, and the horrible green bench she had just been sitting on. Somewhere in a distant echo, she could hear the eerie laughter of children. Their innocence was tearing and ripping, shredding, and destroying...

He's been with Hannah. We've been friends since we were eleven. We were almost like sisters.

Susan was dimly aware of her feet moving. It was almost as if the sidewalk was pulling, pushing, and carrying her. The dead weight of Robert's words had added 900 pounds to her body, and Susan felt that she could no longer carry herself. Around her, conversations were taking place. A man and a woman were flirting; a teenage boy was eyeing the latest creation of Potter Enterprises in the broom shop. And Susan, was running down a road that seemingly had no end.

I can't believe she'd...she's in the wedding. She was going to be my maid of honour.

She did not see the apparition point. She did not feel herself apparating. She did not feel anything at all, but the numbness. O, the lovely, gripping, irrational, sweet taste of numbness had become her nectar, her ambrosia. Luckily, her magic and her subconscious brain had taken over for her.

What about her and Ernie? Did she leave him? Is she leaving him? I know they were an on again, off again couple...but...but...HANNAH?! No...no...this is a mistake.

Susan Bones stood inside of St. Mungo's, and looked around wildly. She did not know how she had made it back to work. All she knew was that she needed to get away, at once.

"Healer Bones, Healer Bones," spoke a deep voice.

Susan jumped and looked up at one of the guards.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Susan nodded mutely, and stared back at his nameplate. Adam. Adam Cabot.

"Adam, I'm not feeling well, um...could you send word to Healer Thomas? Tell him I need a few days, and I'll talk to him over the Floo tomorrow," Susan whispered.

Adam Cabot nodded, and walked over to his desk to write on a piece of paper. Susan Bones quickly trotted over to the Apparition point, and left from St. Mungo's to her flat. When she got there, she looked around her home. It seemed so different, so unwelcoming. Quickly sealing off her flat against Apparition, she walked into her bedroom and lay down on her bed. Susan didn't know what to do. She couldn't believe what a day she'd had. Staring up at the ceiling that she'd painted awhile back, she closed her eyes wishing that it had all been a bad dream. A nightmare. And if she just slept, if she just rested, she would wake up, and Robert would come in with his key, and be asleep beside her.

When Susan awoke several hours later, she immediately felt something stirring beside her.

"Hmm...Robert...what a terrible dream I had...I dreamt that you and Hannah were together and that you were leaving me for her," Susan mumbled.

She opened her eyes to see that the stirring creature had not been Robert. There on her bed sat four owls. Susan sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. This had been no dream.

"Hmm...let's see. One from my Aunt Amelia, One from mum...one from my sister and one from...oh...that's nice, one from Dean," Susan grumbled. "My, my, news travels fast."

It's a good thing I let Aunt Amelia took the pets away for the week, I don't think I could have handled, Archibald, Mr. Tiffers, Athena and Duchess all begging for attention right now.

She had no desire to read any of the letters, and she quickly shoed the owls over to the treats that were nearby Athena's cage.

"Eat up and then be on your way, I'm in no mood to write letters," she grumbled to the owls. Three of the owls looked at her and hooted with sympathy, but one owl stared down its beak at her with haughty eyes.

Three guesses as to which one is mother's owl.

Susan looked down at her rumpled clothes. She figured what she needed was a nice hot bath, some music and some Firewhiskey.

Yes, yes, Firewhiskey...that would do the trick.

Walking calmly to the bathroom, Susan began to run a hot bath, with her favourite rose-scented bubble bath. As she waited for the hot water to run, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Am I undesirable? I mean, I know I'm not very beautiful, but I've always thought I was okay.

Long chestnut coloured hair, and clear pale blue-grey eyes reflected sadly back at her. Her long, narrow nose looked even more elongated today, and her large lips looked like two large balloons resting upon her chin.

Susan had always been a normal sized girl, standing about 165cm. in height. But she had always been rather skinny, too skinny for her own taste. Her mother had often said she was a scrappy little thing, who could do with a few enhancement spells. Susan could visualize her mother's aristocratic and piercing gaze with brilliant lucidity. Her mother's unblemished, luminous skin, sharp grey eyes, and high, sculptured cheekbones made Cordelia Bones a stunning, but wintry figure. When Susan was younger, she believed that her mother had secret powers, extraordinary powers. Little Susan believed that Cordelia Bones could see through her skin, past the bone, and into the very recesses of her heart and mind. While adult Susan did not believe this, she had never been able to shake her feelings of terror and nakedness when she was in her mother's presence.

And she hated it.

As Susan stared back in the mirror, she wondered if her mother had been right about the enhancement spells. Susan sighed, turned off the water and settled into the bubbles. Exhaling as she lay back and immersed herself into the warmth and the weightlessness of water, she remembered better times. Happier times. She remembered the times when she had first met Robert. And when she, Hannah, Robert, Ernie, and, Eleanor had all gone out in large groups. Susan remembered that Hannah had gotten along with Robert well. Very well. In fact, the interaction between the two gave off the appearance of old friends who had been freshly reacquainted. But Susan had never, ever suspected Hannah. Never. She'd always known that Hannah was like that.

A social girl.

Hannah was a loveable girl. Easy to like, effective communicator, kind, vivacious, friendly, funny, and everything Susan had always wanted to be. But never, had Susan suspected that the friendship between Hannah and Robert was more than a friendship.

Susan sat under the shade of the biggest tree on the lawn and fiercely studied her Transfiguration. It was Susan's most difficult subject and she only did well because she always studied it. Suddenly, she heard the stride of light footsteps and a soft giggle.

"Oh, come now, Susan Bones, don't be so silly. Put down that book! It's such a wonderful afternoon. Come out and play," Hannah had said in her bright and airy voice.

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Hannah...you don't understand the pressure I have. I'm a-," Susan had begun.

"A Bones...I know. Oh, Bullocks! ...And I am an Abbott! But who gives a damn? Come on, hang with us and have some fun. Justin, Eloise, Eleanor, Ernie and I are going to play Exploding Snap...AND...I know how much love Exploding Snap," Hannah whinged.

Hannah stuck out her lower lip in a mock puppy dogface and began to stamp her feet in protest. Susan narrowed her eyes in return and sighed wistfully. It was a rather lovely day, after all.

"You can go back to being a boring, stiff old, proper Bones tomorrow. I want my best friend with me today," Hannah continued on pouting.

Susan had smiled, chucked the book to the side, walked over to a group of Hufflepuffs, and began to play Exploding Snap. It had been one of the best memories she had of Hannah, and her sixth year.

That was before it all went to hell.

Susan sat up from the bath quickly. She did not want to have to think back to the old days. Those days were over, and Susan was now a bitter, bitter woman. She had aged, life had given her lemons, and Hogwarts seemed like another lifetime. Getting up out of the tub, Susan let out the bather water, dried herself off, put on her pyjamas and turned on the radio. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was playing on the CD player that had been a Christmas gift from Eleanor in attempt to teach Susan to "live like a muggle." Moving over to the liquor cabinet, she pulled out the most desired, and long worshipped red bottle, and poured the Firewhiskey over ice. Hastily downing the first glass, she quickly poured another, and downed that one as well. After two more glasses, Susan was pouring a fifth when she heard a knock on her door.

Her family had raised more than an eyebrow when she had decided to live in an area surrounded by Muggles. But Susan had loved it. She had so many different things in her house that were very Muggle-like. It had given her a break from the wizarding world and a break from being a Bones. Walking over to the tune of Fur Elise, Susan looked out of her peephole to see Hannah standing in front of the door, looking poised, calm and confident.

Susan swore under her breath.

"Come on Susan, I know you're there. You may have your flat warded off from Apparition, but I can still use the door. Let me in. This is no way to handle this situation.

Don't act like a child," Hannah said.

Susan could feel her temper flaring. How could Hannah insult her? She had done Susan wrong! Sighing, Susan opened the door and watched as her tall, blond ex-best friend sashayed into the room.

What had happened to Hannah Abbott? No one could say for sure. All anyone knew is that she had turned into someone absolutely beautiful and breathtaking. She had begun her transformation toward the end of their seventh year, and then a year after they had all left Hogwarts, Hannah had exploded, well, everywhere. She was a famous fashion model, worldwide in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. She also was starting up her own magazine, called Just Hannah. Now, after beating Susan at everything for her entire life, Hannah had gone and down the unthinkable. She had stolen Susan's fiancé

Taking off her cloak, she rounded on Susan with an odd pitying look. Hannah walked over to her with her arms wide open, as Susan swiftly turned her back on her so-called best friend and quickly moved over to the liquor cabinet, with undeniable precariousness.

"You're...pissed as a coot," Hannah said flatly.

Susan turned back to her purported best friend and set her jaw.

"Wow, your knack for observation is astounding," Susan shot back. "Now go away and leave me the hell alone."

Hannah sucked in her breath.

"Susan, what's going on," Hannah asked, her voice faltering a little.

Susan gulped down her newest drink, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and smiled.

"Didn't you hear? My fiancé has been shagging my best friend. Funny isn't it? It must have been on the front page of the Daily Prophet, as everyone seemed to have known about it except me. Oh, and you of course. Gee, Hannah you must be slipping, I thought in your line of business it was important to know everything about everyone else," Susan snapped bitterly.

Her vision was blurring slightly as she stared at Hannah angrily and spitefully.

Hannah said nothing and merely stared at Susan with fear and confusion. Susan walked over to her, staggering, hoping to give Hannah the appearance of a menacing, dangerous Susan.

"What? Cat got your tongue. Or are your lungs all worn out from screaming Robert's name?" Susan asked.

Hannah stared back at Susan, her eyes bright with tears.

"You-you really are hurt," Hannah whispered.

Susan stared back at her, uncomprehending.

"W-what?" Susan spat out.

"You-you....l-l-loved him, didn't you Susan?" asked Hannah.

Hannah was speaking to her in soft, childlike tones. Susan hated that voice; Hannah used whenever she tried to make someone feel guilty or when she felt hurt, although it seemed from even Susan's inebriated viewpoint that Hannah was talking more to herself than to Susan.

"Of course I did, Hannah. I was going to bloody marry him!"

Susan turned away from Hannah, and walked back over to the mini-bar. She pulled out the bottle of Firewhisky and began to walk past to her bedroom.

"Go home, Hannah. I don't have anything to say to you," Susan said icily, through clenched teeth.

Hannah stared at Susan's swaying back, and made a step forward.

"Do-D-D-Do you need help," Hannah stuttered.

Susan turned on Hannah swiftly with an air of unfiltered, unbridled fury. The unsteady steps of a pissed Susan pushed her closer and closer to the void where rage was absolute, and anger a word that would be better served in a fairy tale. Susan was loosing absolute control, and deep in her heart of hearts, she knew it. But there was nothing she could do about it, nothing she could do to stop the vicious voices that were pushing her further, and further in her dark and sinister place.

Or wanted to.

I have to send her away...I have to...or else...

"NO! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! YOU CHOSE ROBERT! NOW GO HOME AND SHAG HIS BRAINS OUT!"

She was waving her bottle about, spilling Firewhiskey all on the floor as Hannah stared back at Susan in fear and in horror at the state of her best friend.

Hannah picked up her cloak, hurried out the door, and slammed it loudly behind her. Susan swore under breath once more.

"Now look what you made me do...I spilled Firewhiskey all over my floor. What a waste of alcohol," Susan grumbled.

Downing the rest of the bottle quickly, Susan staggered back to her bedroom and passed out on the bed.

Wednesday, 24 October 2007 10:30 a.m.

An ominous, loud, and painful thud awakened Susan in the late morning the next day. She had had a sound night's sleep, and found her rest quite peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, she could not even remember falling asleep. The sharp pain in her elbow and side had been what had awakened her. The actual thud seemed more like an echo from a deep and long lost part of her brain.

When Susan Bones opened her eyes, she realized that she was no longer lying on her soft, comfortable bed. Instead, she felt the hardness of wood and the flatness of the floor. Her current view was of the dust bunnies that were busy bustling underneath her bed and of a long lost red pump that she had been looking for since Eleanor's party in July.

"So that's where I put that red shoe," she mumbled absentmindedly.

Sitting up from her current position, she suddenly felt an aching and pounding unlike anything, she had experienced before. The sensation seemed as if some tiny person with 5-pound hammers for feet had crawled inside of her head while she was sleeping, and had begun marching around inside her skull to a tune only he could hear. Susan placed a hand to her forehead, and let out a loud scream.

"Arg...damn Firewhiskey," she sighed, exasperated.

"That's what you get for drinking, Susan." The high-pitched voice bounced around with resounding familiarity. There was only one person she knew whose voice sounded ten years younger than they actually were. The high-pitched squeal continued speaking and Susan covered her ears with her hands.

"Really? Is turning into a raging piss-head going to help you sort out your issues?"

Susan stood up, slowly, as she realized the rest of her body now felt the same ache that her head was now experiencing.

"Of course, I would offer to help you, but I was warned that helping you would result in an unfortunate accident for the both of us. I did tarot this morning," the voice prattled on.

Susan sat on her bed, and looked over at the doorway where the voice was coming from, still high-pitched and ringing with jovial glee. Susan severely resisted the impulse that was imploring her to reach out and chuck her long drained Firewhiskey bottle at Ms. Perky Pants.

"Oh, Susan, you don't look good at all. That's all right. I am already brewing the potion for you. And...I know, I know, I never really did well in Snape's class at Hogwarts, but still...I don't think you're in state to do it yourself," the squeaking, irritating voice rambled on.

"I feel like I've been chasing a dragon or a manticore or something," Susan mumbled.

"Well, at least it wasn't a Chinese Fireball, and only the end of your sad and tumultuous relationship with Sir Robert. Although, I still would look out for one of those Fireballs. My predictions are not for naught, Susan Bones." The voiced faded as it left the doorway.

Susan could hear the sounds of boots clunking across the hardwood floor. They sounded very much like the hooves of a centaur tromping around. Susan placed her hands over her ears.

"Could you be any ruder? PLEASE, do NOT stomp around my flat. I do have neighbours, you know?"

She felt her shoulders slump in defeat, as the sounds of cauldrons and glass bottles clanging about filled the room. Slowly standing up, she shuffled out of her bedroom and was immediately greeted with a violent and cheerful hello from the sun.

"Gosh...I feel like I've been bitten by a vampire. Perhaps Hannah bit me...she seems the type to be a vampire...the little bloodsucker," Susan mumbled.

She stopped in mid-thought. Her thoughts drifted back to the night before.

Hannah. She was here, and she left here alive. I didn't kill her. Well, I'll just have to remedy that next time.

Susan smirked to herself at the thought of the newspaper heading that day.

"I know that look Susan. Now don't go getting any funny ideas. I've seen that face a thousand times, and every single time you get that odd gleam in your eye that has meant trouble for us," the voice continued.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Susan heard the voice, but all the while, the violent imagery of tearing Hannah Abbott's pretty little face off, and hexing her until she was a plump, 500 pound, hook-nosed, boil-faced old hag was much too intoxicating and much too invigorating to abandon. For a moment, the tiny man in her head seemed to have stopped his incessant pounding, and was basking in the warm glow of Susan's newest fantasy along with her.

"SUSAN," came the voice, more impatient and louder than ever before. "OH, MERCIFUL MINERVA...would you kindly PAY ATTENTION?"

As quickly as the pounding feet had stopped, they started again, raging, thumping, crashing and turning Susan's tiny brain into mush. Susan Bones put her right hand to her temple and turned to her best friend, and origin of the voice that had been the cause of her suffering this morning.

"Eleanor Branstone, if you raise your voice one hair above one decibel, I will shove my wand so far down your throat that all of St. Mungo's won't be able to help you," Susan seethed.

Susan then smiled sweetly back into the hazel eyes of Eleanor, who simply rolled her own in response and turned away from Susan in a huff.

"Honestly, I come to help you and what do you do? Turn your nose up at me! Why do I bother? What do I get for my loyalty? Violence! I get threatened with violence," Eleanor's squeaky voice exclaimed. "It's not my fault you went and got yourself all arseholed up!"

Eleanor was staring at her, her stubby hands perched at her side, her chubby face screwed up in frustration. Susan sighed and moved toward the kitchen table. She slowly eased herself on to her wood chair and placed her head in her hands. What a morning...what a day...Susan sighed, and mentally punished herself for acting like prat the night before.

Suddenly a wild thought dawned on her and she stared at Eleanor with incredulity and scepticism.

"How in Merlin's name did you get in here? I warded this place off to Apparition," Susan asked, her eyes narrowed..

Eleanor fumbled the bat wings that she had been peeling and blinked several times at Susan. Eleanor frowned and took a deep breath.

"I-I," Eleanor began.

"He gave you the key, didn't he," Susan cut in.

Eleanor said nothing, her thin mouth pinched into a straight line. Susan stood up quickly, marched herself into her bedroom, walked into the bathroom and noted the space where Robert's spare toothbrush, and shaver had been. Next, she moved over to the night stand and noted that his most prized watch, the silver Pavarti Patil original that Susan had spent an arm and a leg on for their anniversary had disappeared too. Taking a deep breath, she moved over to the cupboard. She and Robert had not moved in together at his insistence. But there was a small section of his wardrobe that did have a place in her cupboard for when he stayed over. When she opened the closet door, the empty hangars loomed before her with their taunting smiles, and the implied feeling that she had been had. Even more than she had thought before.

Dirty...Rotten...Foul...Oh, Oh, OOOOOOHHH!!!!

She opened her mouth , and screamed

Susan let out a wail of fury that had rocked herself to the very core. Susan knew the scream well. It had been written about in the annals of women's history. It was the ever-recognized war cry, that all women would utter when they had experienced betrayal at its most base, its most truthful, and its most heinous level. Susan recalled reading about said howl in a pop psywizardology book she had been interested in before the mistake that was Robert had entered her life.

"... a scream that was more than a scream; it was deeper than a howl and more terrifying than a growl. It was the anger and rage of a woman scorned." - from Chapter 3, p.31 of The Psychology of the Modern Witch's Mind. Funny, how I've never forgotten that line. Maybe there is more to this Divination stuff that Eleanor practices. Then again...maybe not.

Sighing, Susan made her way to the kitchen from the bedroom, and faced Eleanor without trepidation. Eleanor hesitated to say something to her as Susan turned sharply to Eleanor, the bitterness in her voice surprising herself.

"He took his stuff already...he moved it all out the morning I left for work. I kissed him good morning, he said he loved me, and I left my home for my job. And he took his stuff back to his flat already. He-he, was going to let me believe...THE BASTARD...THE SMARMY SON OF A BITCH," Susan growled.

Eleanor watched Susan wordlessly.

"He-he gave me this speech about taking a break. He's a coward - a nancy-boy. I hate him," Susan said, vehemently.

She looked over at Eleanor who was staring back with a gaze Susan knew all to well. Pity. Worry. Fear. Uncertainty

"He came by my house after he spoke with you, and gave me the key. He told me he'd left you, and that you would probably need me. I tried to Apparate but you'd already warded the place off. So I sent an owl to your mum, your aunt, and Dean. I told them not to disturb you. I guess that's why they sent you owls yesterday afternoon," Eleanor rushed.

Susan stared at her best friend for a minute and then put her hand over her face.

"I know it wasn't my place, but I knew...they should know, and I knew you could never tell them. I'm so sorry for being so interfering," Eleanor finished breathlessly.

Susan sighed and looked over at Eleanor, sadly.

"I could never be angry with you...unless you poisoned me with that potion of yours and caused me to die a painful and horrible death before I exacted my revenge on both Hannah and Robert. It's fine. I appreciate your...help," Susan said flatly.

. Susan sighed and flopped down in the chair once again.

"I don't think this can get any worse...I haven't told you the whole of yet," Susan said angrily. Her tone was still dangerous.

"Oh yes, about Hannah! I would gladly string her up a flagpole if you'd like. You know I never liked her, but I suffered through her because she was your friend, but honestly, you're much better off. I can't believe she'd do such a thing. I never thought her to be such a tart, anyway," Eleanor said, in a rather sing-song way.

I know, I know, I know, you have never liked her, Eleanor...but she was my first Hogwarts friend.

"We were sorted right after each other, and she was like my other half. I don't know what happened. I know you and her have never gotten along, but honestly, I never thought she'd do this to me." Susan stopped suddenly and looked at Eleanor.

How did Eleanor know? I never told her.

"Eleanor...how did you know about Hannah?" Susan asked sharply.

Eleanor paled, and nervously glanced up at Susan as she was giving the potion a last bit of stir. She looked at the still angry and much shaken Susan with a mixture of fear and pity.

"All right, now..." Eleanor began.

Susan glared at her, her face growing redder and redder.

"YOU SAW THEM TOGETHER DIDN'T YOU? AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME! YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO CLUE ME IN ON THE FACT THAT MY BEST FRIEND AND MY FIANCE WERE SHAGGING EACH OTHER SENSELESS! I SWEAR YOU ARE JUST AS BAD AS THEY ARE! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" Susan bellowed.

Eleanor groaned and sighed as a Susan moved felt herself moving in closer and closer.

"Susan...if you would just calm down, I'd explain it to you like this," Eleanor began.

"CALM DOWN! YOU WANT ME TO EFFING CALM DOWN! I'M CALM! I'M SO CALM, I THINK I'LL DIE FROM BEING SO CALM! EVERYONE HAS BEEN LYING TO ME FOR A YEAR! AND YOU! YOU! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE!" Susan screamed.

Susan was so angry, so angry as she stared Eleanor, her short, plump ex-best friend, with the left side of her head shaved and the right side of her black hair cut in a strange triangular fashion. Susan hated everything about her: she hated her nose ring, her eyebrow piercing, her strange haircut, her pale pasty skin and the pink and black polka dot dress she was wearing. Suddenly, the glass jar of dried baby newts that Susan used in a potion for the cold she caught every winter broke into a million pieces.

"DAMN IT SUSAN! I DID NOT KNOW!!"

Susan could that Eleanor was frustrated, but part of her didn't care, or didn't want to care. Not when she felt so lost, so deceived, so destroyed. Susan watched as Eleanor went on.

"I wanted to break this to you gently, but you've left me no other choice," Eleanor said.

Gently...GENTLY! How can this be broken into gently?! You should have told me the minute you found out...ah chuff it, I'm just going to say it...

Susan started to say something more but Eleanor cut in.

"OH, PUT A SOCK IN IT! HERE LOOK AT IT, FRONT PAGE! It seems Pansy Parkinson saw your little fit in Diagon Alley yesterday, "Eleanor finished brutishly.

Susan snatched up the paper that Eleanor had thrown at her. There on the front page, in living, moving, colour was a picture of Hannah in a steamy embrace with Robert. The front page read:

FAMED HEALER SUSAN BONES DUMPED! FAMOUS CLASSICAL MUSICIAN CAUGHT HAVING SULTRY AFFAIR WITH THE BEAUTIFUL HANNAH ABBOT!

Susan angrily tossed the newspaper on the ground, and stormed out of the kitchen, back to her room, hoping that the echo of the slamming door was firmly implanted in Eleanor's mind. Susan Bones sank down into to her bed, her body feeling like lead. Her hangover, the pounding headache, her aching muscles had all taken a backseat to the embarrassment and her humiliation.

The front page! The bloody front page! I've never felt so...mortified. I can't believe that - no - no, this is my fault. I caused a scene at the restaurant. That is why Pansy Parkinson tailed us at the café. I should have known better. I really should have known better...this is entirely my fault...I'm the one to blame.

She fell over on her bed, as she stared up at the red ceiling. How many times had she laid here in the past, dreaming of Robert? Remembering how wonderful her career was going. She had been making great strides at St. Mungo's. She had done landmark research. She had helped so many people. Perhaps this was her comeuppance. This was her karma reflecting cruelly back on her for her arrogance and selfishness. Rolling over to her side, she was once again faced the letters from yesterday. She did not need words of comfort and support from Dean, nor did she need her Aunt Susan's calm and rational patient advice. And most of all Susan did not need her mother's condemnation and wrath. That this whole thing was Susan's fault, because Susan was not a proper Bones, and never could be. Susan's mother thought that Susan just didn't know how to keep a good man, and she didn't try to keep her thoughts a secret.

"Really, Susan...he'll leave you if you don't shape up," Cordelia Bones said as she stared into the mirror.

Cordelia Bones puckered up her lips and checked her lipstick. She turned to her daughter and regarded her thoughtfully.

"Susan, let's be honest with ourselves, hmm? Particularly beautiful, you are not, although you are very brilliant... But, those are things that men care nothing about. To be a good wife is to also look the part. No one wants a wife who looks manlier than him," Cordelia said simply and coldly, with the semblance of a warm smile planted on her face.

Susan stared at her mother with indignation and her eyes haughty.

"You're wrong. Robert loves my sense of humour. He laughs at my jokes, he enjoys deep and intellectual conversation, and he respects my individuality," Susan snapped.

Her mother sighed and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulder.

"You WILL loose him. Then where will you be? The things you care about, men just do not want in a wife. I know, I kept your father, didn't I?" Cordelia continued.

"Father didn't care about how you looked. He loved you. Your ideas are old-fashioned," Susan said as she turned away from her mother.

Susan stared down at the engagement ring that bonded her and Robert together. This ring was continuity: it was commitment; it was a pledge from him to her.

"Susan, just as easily as a ring can be slipped on, it can be slipped off. And I know more about men than you will ever hope to in your lifetime," her mother said breathlessly.

Cordelia Bones picked up a bottle of perfume and sprayed it about herself. The scent was overpowering and deadening. At least, it seemed that way. It killed the senses and took away awareness. This was what Susan had come to associate her mother with. Too much. Too powerful. She walked back over to the long mirror again and checked her appearance. Susan watched her mother, whose reflection was picture perfect, with disgust and abhorrence, as she primped, fluffed, and pruned. Susan hated that mirror. She wished she could smash it with her fist and watch as all the pieces gathered around Cordelia Bones' tiny feet. She wondered what her mother would do then.

"I have to go back to the ball, Mother, I just thought you would be happy for me is all," Susan returned coldly.

"Don't come crying to me when he's gone. I would hate to say I told you so. He's a good man, Susan. Don't mess this up," Cordelia Bones said as Susan walked out of the door.

Her mother's eyes were watching her leave through the mirror.

"By the way, Susan, have you thought of about undergoing those enhancement charms? I swear that dress makes you look like a twelve-year-old boy with long hair," Cordelia Bones chuckled.

Susan sighed she crossed the threshold of the room and made her way back to the hall.

Her chest heaving angrily at the memory that had taken place at last year's St. Mungo's Christmas Gala and Fundraiser, Susan felt her breath began to quicken and her mind spiralled out of her control. It was tradition for Cordelia Bones to be responsible for the sponsoring, planning, and hosting of the gala since its inception. She had frequently said it was her attempt to do her "part" for the greater wizarding world, and the Bones family always held the dinner and ball in their banquet hall. Susan had just broken the news to her mother about her and Robert's engagement as they stood in her parents' bedroom discussing the speech Susan had given earlier that evening. She remembered those words, and grudgingly decided her mother had been right, even if it pained Susan to think about it. She had lost Robert to Hannah, and this was all her fault.

There was nothing she could do to change that.

Unable to control the cyclone of emotion that was threatening to burst free, she felt a hot pinprick of tears stinging the sides of her eyes.

No...NO! No crying...I am a Bones, and Bones' do not cry...they get up, and sod it all. They pick up the pieces, and they move on.

Sitting up quickly, Susan let out a slow sigh. Mentally readying herself, she began to take deep, soothing breaths. In and out, up and down, breathing, exhaling, freeing, and letting go. She would not dwell on this or else she would fall apart. And falling apart was something she could not do. Standing up, Susan calmly walked to her bedroom door and opened it. When she reached the kitchen where Eleanor waited, Susan felt a sudden shift in the air. The crackling electricity, the potential energy that was bouncing back and forth between the two of them was laying in wait, in expectation. Eleanor looked over at Susan, a mixture of pity and apprehension apparent on her face. Her hazel eyes were curious as she searched Susan's face. After a few moments of silence, Susan felt herself propelled to say something but found no words would come out. They were hiding, probably fighting with the tiny man, thought Susan, and she giggled at the thought. This seemed to settle something in Eleanor's mind as she smiled, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, at least you don't have to go to Ginny's birthday party, on Saturday...and I'm sure Dean will understand. You don't need any kind of stress, Susan, any more and you'll crack."

Eleanor calmly walked over to Susan and handed her the cup. Eleanor met Susan's eyes once more, as Susan tried to communicate to her what she was thinking. She would not be hiding. She would not play the role of innocent victim; she would not let Hannah or Robert take over her life. Susan watched as Eleanor, suddenly, understood and gasped aloud. Eleanor's face flushed and Susan knew that she had struck a nerve.

"Oh, Susan, don't be dim...don't go, it'll end in misery," Eleanor sighed as she stalked away.

Eleanor clunked her way over to the stove and began to clean up the mess she had made in the kitchen. Susan watched her as she moved skittishly across the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors and twisting bottles with vehemence and force, all the while shaking her head and muttering to herself.

"Honestly, Eleanor, perhaps you're the one that needs this potion," Susan murmured as she took a slow sip.

Her lips formed a half smile, as she sipped once more from the cup and stared back at Eleanor. Eleanor stopped and stared at her.

"What do you want me to say? What the hell do you want me to say! You always do this. ALWAYS...and it isn't healthy. It's positively BARMY! You are not made of stone, you are not invincible, and you cannot take on the world. You are ONLY human, and to go to the party, in the state you're in...there are things...things you haven't dealt with...it's just like when Justin died...".

Susan stopped smiling and felt the colour drain from her face.

"Don't you dare, Eleanor, don't you dare...I'm not...I can't," Susan stumbled. "I won't. I am a Bones. Don't you understand? This is who I am...I can't, I won't, fall to pieces. This is the only way I can win, the only way I can defeat Robert and Hannah and Mum. By being who I am...by being strong."

Susan took a deep breath, and took an earnest step forward.

"There are people and things in this world that will try to destroy you, and the only way to face them is head without faltering and without fear. To be, to stand, to fight, this is what I must do even when all the other parts of me want to fall to pieces. My will is the one thing that will survive long after my body has failed me," Susan finished.

Taking another deep breath, Susan stared Eleanor straight into the eyes.

"That isn't what he meant when he said that," Eleanor said quietly. "And it isn't like you're giving up or letting them win. Not taking care of you is letting them win."

Susan suddenly felt very old and very tired. She did not want to fight with Eleanor about this. What she desired more than anything was sleep and peace. She did not want to think about talking to her mother, nor did she wish to think about the do that would be taking place at Ginny and Dean's home on Saturday. All she needed was a bit of warmth and comfort.

"I'm really tired Eleanor...could we continue this later?" Susan began.

Eleanor sighed and stomped her clunky feet again.

"Don't do this, Susan, don't push me away. You're such a prat," Eleanor snapped.

Susan smiled slightly and shrugged.

"I've been called worse, Eleanor, and I happen to enjoy being a world class wanker. It gives me character and distinction...why don't you go home, and play with your little glass ball?" Susan teased, a sly smile creeping up on her face.

Eleanor grinned back at Susan.

"Not getting rid of me that easy. I'm staying here tonight...make that a couple of days. I don't want you to be...alone..."

The hesitation in Eleanor's voice was endearing, and that meant that she was hiding something. Susan rolled her eyes in amusement and watched as Eleanor continued in her discomfort.

"Besides, I did a spell in my flat this afternoon to ward against vampires. I hear there's some kind of new breed in the area. It'll be a couple of days before it airs out...that garlic potion isn't too flattering on the nostrils," Eleanor squeaked again.

Susan sighed and shook her head.

"I don't need a babysitter, but I suppose you already have your stuff set up in the spare," Susan mumbled as she turned to shuffle back to her bedroom.

"You know me all to well, Healer Bones," Eleanor grinned.

Susan turned and raised an eyebrow at Eleanor.

"Erm...by the way...your stuff...I mean that potion...I don't want my house to smell like garlic," Susan said flatly.

Eleanor giggled and bounced up and down on her heel.

"Don't worry. The items from home that I have in the spare are garlic-scent free, Eleanor said dismissively.

Noting the look on Susan's face, she sighed and held up her hand in a mock swearing manner.

"I vow, on my latest edition of the Quibbler that there will be no garlic smells in Susan's flat...by the way...did you know that Gilderoy Lockhart was You-Know-Who's love child?" Eleanor gushed.

Susan sighed, shook her head, and walked into her bedroom, shutting the door once more. Susan heard her best friend clunk away and giggled to herself. When she flopped on her bed, Susan noticed that her head had stopped aching. She supposed Eleanor had not poisoned her after all. Exhaustion was falling upon her like a warm heavy blanket. Susan shut her eyes, and felt her lids begin to close.

Yes, sleep, no dreaming...but peace...I wonder if Eleanor put a bit of dreamless sleeping draught into this...it seems she has because I shouldn't be this tire----

And then she thought no more.

Wednesday, 24 October 2007 9:30 p.m.

Hermione Granger was accustomed to lateness. It seemed these days she was always apparating, flooing, running, jumping, or sometimes even flying a moment after she should without time for rest.

This day was no exception.

Her boots clicked in rapid succession as she hurried down the street to her current destination. She stopped succinctly in front of a large stone building with several cathedral windows, and stared back at her reflection. She looked a bit winded, her cheeks flushed partially due to fear and anxiety, and the wind. Her flustered hands were moving at rapid speed with a vain attempt to smooth her hair. Taking a deep breath, she felt satisfied with her appearance. She opened the large wooden door with an air of calm and suaveness. Looking around the room at the hundreds of little tables, Hermione noticed the different people currently dining in The Golden Snitch tonight. There were small families with children who were playing with their plates and parents who were scolding them about the virtues of behaving. There were young couples who were staring dreamily back at one another, the essence of love shining a brilliant and youthful radiance on their faces. There were groups of businesspersons who were speaking in dozens of languages, several of which Hermione spoke quite fluently.

And in a darkened corner sat a sour looking young man, who kept glancing angrily down at his watch and mumbling incoherently to himself. The young man's face was growing more blotchy red every time he looked down at his watch, and Hermione could not help but laugh quietly to herself.

He's so cute when he's angry. Oh boy, am I in trouble...

Mustering a last snippet of courage, Hermione sucked in a deep breath, marched over to the table with the surly young man, and cleared her throat.

"Well...what kind of a date would this be if I weren't a bit late?" Hermione said softly.

The young man had not heard her approach, nor had he seen her come to a stop by his table. He sat at the table, his arms folded across his chest pouting in a childlike manner, much like the four year old that sat across from them who was currently angry at his parents for taking his toy wand away. The young man looked up at her sharply, his face first registering shock, then relief, and finally anger. He smoothly brushed back a strand of red hair and gestured roughly to the seat across from him.

"Well...a bit late is one thing, but an hour and a half late is another," he responded dismally.

Biting her lip, Hermione sat down and eyed Ron Weasley carefully.

"Erm...I'm sorry...but you know how the French are...they languish about, with no concern for anyone else's time but their own...and this was one very important meeting, if I can rally them to our cause then we might have a real chance of making a real impact," Hermione said all at once, her eyes searching her boyfriend's face earnestly.

Ron sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his right hand drumming loudly on the table.

"But this happens all the time...everyone else comes before me-all the bloo-," Ron began.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, nice to see you here again tonight," came the calm and sickeningly sweet voice of their waiter.

Hermione smiled graciously at Cuthburt and nodded her hello. Ron grunted back in what sounded something similar to "hermp." But Hermione was fairly certain it was supposed to be a friendly greeting.

"Well, it's lovely to see you both; shall I get the usual for you, then?" Cuthburt went on, unabashed.

"Oh, yes, please, thank you very much, Cuthburt," Hermione cut in, eager to send the waiter away quickly.

Ron merely stared ahead and said nothing. Cuthburt raised an eyebrow and walked away; he was very much used to the bickering and the arguing that occurred between Ms Granger, and Mr. Weasley, when she showed up late to meet with the young man.

"Ron," Hermione began.

"For fuck's sake, Hermione...you did it again!"

"What-I-...I..."

"First, you show no considerations for my feelings. Then you order for me, without even asking me what I wanted. Why? Because you were embarrassed? Because you didn't want Cuthburt to know that I was angry with you?! And you accuse me of being self-centred," Ron snapped.

Hermione felt her face flush.

"Well you were the one being rude...what was I supposed to do? And you didn't even say a proper hello to Cuthburt, and I can't believe you don't understand how important this meeting was...you should have seen Remus's face!" Hermione felt herself arguing back intensely.

Ron stared at Hermione, his rage uncontrollable.

"Oh, Codswallop! Stop trying to make me feel guilty! Every time we are supposed to go out somewhere, you do this, I concede, and I play the role of understanding boyfriend!"

The restaurant was slowly beginning to take note of the imminent volcanic eruption that was moments away from fruition. Gradually, the voices died down to a whisper, and Hermione watched as one by one, the tables all turned to stare at them, their eyes condemning them and their very public disagreement. Hermione felt very ill at ease and her eyes flickered back at Ron.

"Could you speak any louder? If you're going to act like a four year old child, could you possibly do so at a level that doesn't break the sound barrier?" Hermione snapped back in a whisper.

Ron stood up instantly, unable to contain his anger any longer.

"DAMN IT HERMIONE! Why can't you admit you're wrong? Why all the damn excuses? I was worried...I didn't know what had happened...and I had so much planned...but it's all ruined now thanks to you...all of it, effing ruined!" Ron bellowed.

Ron looked down at his plate, and shook his head. Hurt and pure frustration marred his normally good-natured expression. Hermione, who felt her embarrassment about the fight getting the better of her; found she could not control her horror at the situation.

"Oh please Ron...get over yourself...I can't believe you're behaving this way. Just sit down...be quiet. It's just dinner, I see you all the time, seeing as how we live together," Hermione exclaimed in return.

It was after these words, that Hermione realized that something had stopped working. Time had stopped ticking. The seconds that had been swiftly rushing past, came to a full, dead, halt. The minutes were non-existent. There was a dead silence. An awful silence. The worst kind of silence. This was not the silence before the storm; nor was this the tranquil silence of peacefulness. This was not a mournful silence, a joyful silence or an apologetic silence. This was the silence of emptiness, the nothingness. The dissipation of love. The final silence, a silence that humans feared the most, and made even the angriest of gods' melancholic.

And Ron Weasley was staring at Hermione with a recognition, with understanding, and with empty silence.

"You don't remember, do you? Seven years...seven years and you don't remember," Ron said softly.

Hermione stared back at Ron, oblivious.

"...But you know what this has taught me? Maybe you aren't at all what I thought you were...maybe we aren't ready for this...may be this was a mistake after all," Ron went on quietly.

Then he pulled out a tiny box from his pocket and set it on the table.

"Happy anniversary, Hermione," Ron murmured.

He met her eyes once more and walked away from the table. He walked out of the restaurant, down the pavement that she had just trotted on a few moments ago and fumed out of view. Ron Weasley had walked out on Hermione Granger, and she sat there unable to comprehend what had just happened.

And then, she felt it wash over her with a wave of sadness and guilt.

I forgot our anniversary...

Moving her hand over to the small box, Hermione tried to stifle the sobs that were threatening to escape. She looked up to see Cuthburt standing over her, his face emanating concern.

"I think...I think it's time I called Mr. Potter, hmm?" Cuthburt mumbled.

Placing a consolatory hand on Ms. Granger's shoulder, he offered her a hand up. Together they moved toward the back office, the tiny box still resting patiently on the table.

Thursday, 25 October 2007 9:30 a.m.

Susan Bones had been in the shower for twenty minutes when someone pounded on her door.

"Oh merciful Minerva, what in the HELL do you want, Eleanor?" Susan called out.

Sighing, Susan stuck her head out of the shower to listen for Eleanor's high-pitched voice, but instead heard nothing.

"Wait until I get out of the shower, for Merlin's sake," Susan mumbled.

She felt quite a bit better this morning, seeing as her hangover was gone. Last night had been a relatively quiet evening. She and Eleanor had gone to dinner at a small Muggle café down the street and had taken in a Muggle film at a local cinema. Susan enjoyed doing Muggle things, and, with Eleanor herself being Muggle-born, she had always been the perfect person for her to do those things with. Eleanor had taught her so much about the Muggle world, and Susan considered herself very lucky to have learned all of these things.

Pulling her towel around herself, Susan walked out of the bathroom and into the lounge to talk to Eleanor.

"Now what is it that you wanted, Eleanor? That took all of five minutes...I swear you have the patience of a two year old and the memory of a goldfish," Susan said impatiently to Eleanor as she took another towel to blot her hair.

"I think she was trying to announce our arrival, ahem...nice 'outfit', Healer Bones," came a deep but very warm voice.

"Very nice indeed," came a male, Irish, voice.

Susan looked up into the eyes of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, and smiled uneasily. Dean and Susan had gotten to be very good friends over the years, and had even dated briefly, if one could call it dating. They had gotten quite close when they had both starting training to be Healers promptly after finishing at Hogwarts. After two years of a wonderful friendship, they began a very heated relationship, which lasted all of four months.

But it had been the hottest four months of Susan's life.

She smiled fondly back at the memories. Of course, she preferred Dean as her best friend now, and she was quite sure Dean felt the same way. But they would always have Paris, so to speak. She grinned back at the two men with a vivacious energy.

"Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise...I'll be back in a moment, time to change into something more proper," Susan teased as she walked back to the bedroom and shut the door.

Lying out on her bed was a denim skirt and a light blue T-Shirt that read, Caution: I Like to Play with Wands, on the front in white lettering, with a big red lipstick imprint set behind it in red glitter. Susan smiled fondly at it. She, Justin and Hannah had bought this together. They had thought it was the dumbest thing they'd ever seen, and each had bought one, with Hannah buying a pink one, and Justin purchasing a black one.

If only you could see us now...Justin...I swear if you were here, none of this would have happened.

Slipping on the clothing, she stared at herself in the mirror. She tried to smile back, but all she saw was a twenty-seven year old woman frowning miserably in return.

Stupid mood mirror...what do you know...

Susan hated the mirror, as it was not like a normal one. This mirror showed one's inner disposition, and was not a mirror used for primping. A mood mirror, Eleanor had dubbed it, when she had given it to Susan for a birthday present, and Susan had hated on sight. Apparently it was to help her get in touch with her "inner Susan", but Susan thought differently on the matter. As had Robert.

Boy I'm glad I didn't look in this thing yesterday - I probably would have tried to attack myself.

Grinning grimly, Susan moved away from the mirror and opened the door to find that Seamus, Dean and Eleanor were all sitting down on the settee, conversing.

"So how is she?" Dean said.

His face was etched with concern, and Susan felt a long forgotten warmth in her chest. She was lucky to have good friends such as Dean and Eleanor. She would do well to remember that.

"Well, besides being angrier than Snape on a sunny day..." Eleanor trailed off.

"Oh," cam suddenly e a collective response from both boys.

They glanced at each other nervously. It had been a joke between Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor that Professor Snape was more prone to anger and hostility on a sunny day than any other day of the week. In fact, it was nearly impossible to find him in a decent mood on those kinds of days. And so the phrase "angrier than Snape on a sunny day," had become a euphemism for uncontrollable rage and fury: the highest level of anger one could achieve. Susan grimaced to herself at the thought. She supposed she had been that angry yesterday, but today was a new day, and no matter what the mood mirror said, lying to herself and her friends would only help her and them. Eventually, she might begin to believe the lies and really be okay.

"Well, I'd like to think I'm not that angry," Susan said suddenly.

The three looked over at her quickly, Dean quite abashed, Seamus quite the opposite and Eleanor smiling greatly at her friend. Susan moved to sit down in the unoccupied chair facing the door. She turned to the large red velvet settee where Dean, Eleanor, and Seamus were sitting and nodded.

"So what brings you all here?" Susan asked. "I should hope that you weren't worried about me. I assure you, I am quite well, aside from the Firewhiskey incident a couple of nights ago. I was just a bit stressed."

"Well, I read the paper, and then the letter from Eleanor...I just wanted to see for myself if you were okay?" Dean said quietly. "...Are you okay?"

Dean was peering at her anxiously as if trying to read her thoughts and feelings, but Susan smiled, trying to make her eyes light and airy. She had always been a pro at hiding things. Growing up Cordelia's daughter had made it a necessary survival tactic. Susan nodded and shrugged.

"Aside from a few homicidal urges every now and then I'm fine," Susan responded, jovially. "Running into Robert or Hannah today might not be a good idea for either of them, but oh well."

Eleanor, for some reason, found that comment uproariously amusing and burst into laughter. She chortled to herself for a moment and stared back at Seamus and Dean's nervous glances with delight.

"My apologies, I just got a rather graphic mental image of Susan pummelling Hannah, and Robert," giggled Eleanor.

Susan rolled her eyes at Eleanor and winked at Dean. Deciding to change the conversation, Susan sat back and folded her hands quaintly in her lap.

"So...how fairs the insatiable Ms. Virginia Weasley?" Susan asked Dean.

Dean tilted his head slightly and glanced at Seamus.

"Well, we're going to look for her birthday present today, and I think she's really excited about the party. Ginny does enjoy loads of people quite well. It might calm her nerves, too, about the new record," Dean said.

Susan nodded mutely. Ginny Weasley wasn't exactly Susan's most favourite person. Dean and Ginny had dated briefly during Dean's sixth year at Hogwarts, and she had stomped all over Dean's heart. She had done a number on him, leaving him a bit embittered, and, of course, dumping him for Harry Potter: the famous Boy Who Lived. In fact, his tryst with Susan had been his first relationship since their break-up several years before. Then, unexpectedly, six months ago Dean and Ginny once again had started up a relationship. It seemed this time around, age and experience had matured Virginia a bit more, and their relationship was blossoming along marvellously. Just last month, the two had bought a house together. Ginny was also relatively fond of being quite cold to Susan. Susan and Eleanor had both mused that she was indeed jealous of her and Dean's friendship. And Susan, who was never one for biting back her tongue, had let Ginny know on numerous occasions exactly what she thought and felt.

And I have to go to her birthday party on Saturday...I'll have to make sure to stay away from the Firewhiskey.

"A new album you say...how nice," Susan responded dryly.

"Yes, I'd like for you to give it a listen. I mean, you, and Ginny are the best musicians I know, and you have a good ear for success," Dean said smoothly.

Susan sighed and shook her head. Perhaps that was the real reason Susan could not find herself to like Ginny. Susan had always wanted to be a musician, but making music was not a profession expected for a Bones, and so she had become a Healer, something that she very much enjoyed. Ginny Weasley had followed her heart and was now one of the most successful - if not the most successful - wizarding artists in the world.

"Well, I'm not sure...if Ginny's type of music is to my liking...but I'm certain she'll sell, she's got loads of talent, even if she can't play a single instrument properly."

Susan noted that Seamus had deftly placed his hand over his mouth, and winked back at Susan. Susan knew that Seamus did not have much tolerance for Ginny while she and Seamus often shared private, inside jokes, or smart comments about the girl. This of course usually went over Dean's head, and would lead to some very humorous times between her and Seamus. Although, today, Susan noted that Seamus seemed undeniably quieter, as he was always the more boisterous of the duo, Susan couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on. Was there something she didn't know about? Did Seamus and Dean have a fight?

"Hmm...but she does have a beautiful voice," Eleanor cut in, glancing at Susan.

"Well, she's a talented writer, and she's getting better at writing music. I mean, her and Luna make a great team," Dean defended with a scowl.

Seamus coughed, and Susan bit back a snicker.

"Oh Susan, why do you have to pick on Ginny? I swear you guys are just alike. That's why you don't get along," Eleanor smiled

Dean and Seamus both laughed aloud at Eleanor's comment, and Susan turned sharply to her best friend with a sly smile.

"Watch it, Eleanor dear, I would hate for something to happen to that crystal ball you so adore." Susan smiled sweetly in return.

Eleanor sat up, her mouth agape, and gasped in shock.

"You wouldn't," Eleanor whispered.

"Oh, wouldn't I? But perhaps the better question is...have I already?" Susan asked, her eyes glinting wickedly.

Eleanor's eyes widened as she leapt up with great speed and rushed ferociously into the spare bedroom. Soon, a high-pitched squeal erupted from the bedroom, and Eleanor returned, her face now a hideous shade orange. Last night, when Eleanor had fallen fast asleep, Susan thought it would be amusing to play a neat little trick on her dear best friend, and so she had tiptoed into the spare bedroom. In retrospect, Susan thought that the tiptoeing part hadn't been necessary. Eleanor could sleep through anything, even an attack by a manticore, and her snores were louder than any sleeping Hungarian Horntail. Susan had placed slight colour changing curse on the case where Eleanor's crystal ball rest. Suffice it to say, whenever the girl would open the case, her face would be met with a nasty surprise. And of course, the plan had worked. Soon, Eleanor's face would turn to a bright purple, a lovely shade of neon pink, a violent shade of green, and finally, a brilliant mixture of red and blue spots.

"SUSAN ELIZABETH BONES!!!! I swear!"

Towering above Susan, with a mixture of anger, and amusement on her face, Eleanor made a fascinating contradiction. A peculiar oxymoron. The colour on her face made a jocund type contrast with the black velvet dress she was wearing, and her pale arms and leg. This observation in turn made Susan laugh even harder, her heart greatly cherishing the refreshing and never-ending love and loyalty she felt towards Eleanor. A kinship. A friendship that would always transcend whatever drama they were dealing with. A friendship she knew was returned with great zeal and honesty. Perhaps it had been a good thing for Eleanor to say with her this week after all.

She smiled up at Elenor as Eleanor returned the smile, and spoke to her with an odd tone in her voice. "Well, you certainly are feeling better today if you're up to playing tricks on your friends."

The boys were both laughing uncontrollably, as Susan herself had fallen out her seat in amusement, and found she could not find a witty reply to her Eleanor's assertion. A multi-coloured Eleanor was quite possibly one of the most humorous sites she'd ever seen in her entire life.

"That is a much a better look for you...Eleanor," Seamus gasped in-between breaths.

He could scarcely breathe, he was laughing so hard, and Dean, while trying to be a bit more dignified, was failing miserably. Susan beamed unsympathetically at her best friend, as she lay in a little ball on the floor. Hands on hip, folded arms, vexed breathing, and affronted sighs were all indicators to Susan that Eleanor had in fact reached her breaking point and was about to explode.

But not from anger.

"That's it, Susan...you've pushed me too far, strumpet. Eleanor the tickle monster is back and tougher than ever!" Eleanor hooted.

With a bounce and a spring, Eleanor jumped on Susan, and began to tickle her with extreme ardour.

"No...ha ha ha...fair...ha ha...Elea-he he he he-nor, you know...ah ha ha ha ha, I'm extremely ...tickli--------ish," Susan laughed as she wiggled and convulsed around on the floor.

Suddenly a of pair very large, dark hands that Susan knew all too well, were at her feet and were engaging themselves in the tickling frenzy. Susan squealed in delight and with mock fear.

"Dean....ha ha ha...not....ah ha ha ...you....he ha he ha he...too, "Susan giggled.

If only my mum could see me now...ha ha ha...she'd die of embarrassment.

Friday, 26 October 12:00 a.m.

Draco Malfoy stood on the rocks, staring at the shadowy depths of the ocean. The waves splashed tumultuously against them. The darkness of the midnight sky contrasted against the pale moon as it cast an eerie and ominous glow upon the ground around him. He was ready, and he was waiting. The time had now come for revenge, and a for a return to the past, to the old ways, when people understood what it meant to be a wizard, and the world did not beguile itself into believing in false Utopias.

Stability. Order. Accountability. Responsibility. Pride...The system made sense then.

This is it. This is my chance. And no one has a clue what's really going on, except for me.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to face "his master".

"Are we leaving now?" Draco asked, his excitement barely contained.

"Yes, it is time, Draco; it has already begun. The first is in accordance: it is time to go to Kadas and finish up our business dealings," the voice replied.

Draco nodded, his eyes steady, as they turned away from the cliff and walked to the Portkey that lay waiting. Falling into step behind his master, Draco smirked to himself.

And they all shall fear, and they all shall not sleep...they will have no idea what waits for them until it is too late. Even the master.

Friday, 26 October 2007. 9:30 a.m.

There was no such thing as the proper action. No truth, no morality, no honour, only guesses at its meaning and attempts of execution. There were merely questions, and answers that lead to more questions. That was something that Amelia Susan Bones had been led to believe recently. What was real honour? Loyalty? Fidelity? What did it matter in the end? The truth of it all...what if there was neither truth, nor justice? Exhaling slowly, Madame Bones stood up from the cold patch of earth that she was currently sitting on and surveyed her surroundings.

Azkaban.

Cynicism had reared its ugly head in Madam Bones. And, slowly, it had ingratiated its dark nature into her speech, her walk, her very being. Ten years after the fall of Voldemort, and still there was naught a resolution, nor an ounce of hope left. The Ministry was still in disarray with the changing of the Minister of Magic every year; betrayal, mistrust, and anger ran rampant, converging in accusatory fingers, and stubborn, furrowed brows.

And it seemed that Amelia Bones had lost all faith in any sort of stability.

So it seemed indeed.

But she was here to speak with a current prisoner, one who she believed would be the key to everything, and change the course of the way the Ministry was moving, save it from utter destruction. Inhaling softly, Amelia made her way up the path to the long, dark entrance of Azkaban, where two guards stood waiting to escort her into the conference room. The gloominess settled upon her like a tired, worn, cloak. Amelia realized that she was risking a lot. In fact, she was risking everything, but she needed his political expertise, his brilliance, and most of all she needed him.

When the guards finally stopped, she found herself in front of a large, rusted, steel door. The dark stonewall dug sharply into her back, and Amelia prepared herself for this meeting. He would not be happy to see her. Taking a deep breath, the guard pointed his wand at the door, and Madame Bones, took in one final moment of uncertainty and doubt.

Here goes nothing...

The man standing by the barred window did not stir when she entered the room. Engrossed by the small patches of light that illuminated the stall, he sat oblivious to the sounds of keys, to her entrance, and to the shuffling feet against the squalid floor. There was a tiny table and two chairs on the opposite side of the room. But the man would not sit; nor would he move. He stood in silence. He stood in stillness. He stood in reverence. He stood and stared transfixed through the tiny bars as if he had never seen anything like it before.

"Do you see that?" he whispered, his eyes not leaving the window.

Amelia said nothing and turned her head to the window in a vain effort to understand.

"That...sky. I can see a small piece of it. It's the first time I've seen blue, the first time I've seen real light...in eleven years," he murmured.

Madame Bones blinked and looked at the man, who had changed so much in the past years. His once vibrant face was now sunken in and hollow; he looked horribly emaciated, and his hair was all but gone, save for a few fair, matted strands that grew on the back of his head.

He looked terrible. And it was all her fault.

The man turned to her slowly as Amelia felt a single, solitary tear trickle down her face. His brown eyes still held a twinkle in them, and a fondness that she was ashamed to behold.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Amelia?" the man said softly.

Madame Bones cleared her throat and smiled sadly. She moved closer toward him and took a deep breath.

"You're right. It isn't," she said after a long pause.

Placing a hand softly on her shoulder, she met his eyes once more.

"Hello, Arthur," Amelia said simply.

Arthur Weasley nodded.

"Hello, Madame Bones."