Chronicles of The Boy Who Lived

*******

Chanel arrived back at the group's flat late in the afternoon. No one was in the living room, but she heard the hair dryer going in the bathroom, so she knew Tori was home. Chanel trudged to her room, where she flopped down on her bed.

Seconds later, she lifted her head and squinted at her dresser mirror. There was something stuck in the frame, a small piece of paper. Curious, she got off the bed and snatched it off the mirror, reading:

The boys and I are going out on the town for a bit, around five. Care to join?

There was no name, no signature, but the tone of the hastily scrawled postscript immediately tipped her off:

P.S. See you then.

Chanel looked at the clock. 4:50. Shit.

She left her room, and found Tori on the couch, her notebook in her lap. She had been studying a page intently, but looked up upon Chanel's entrance. "Hey."

"We're going out."

"What?"

Chanel tossed the note onto of the notebook, which Tori promptly picked up and read. "Is this from Draco?"

"Yep."

"And you're going?" Tori asked curiously; she had been hoping to ask Chanel questions about the whole magic-thing. She wasn't sure what to call it, and any time she tried to find five minutes to sit down and think about it, something would come up, or one of them would have something for her to do. She never got to think about it for very long.

"We're going."

Before Tori could answer, there was a knock at the door. There was a pause, and an unusual look crossed Chanel's face. Tori sat there, her face blank. There was another knock, and Chanel motioned for Tori to get up and follow her.

Tori tossed her notebook on the couch and stood up, smoothing out her jeans and tugging on her blue sweater. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she mumbled. Draco hardly liked to look at her, much less even say hello, and now she was going to be dragged along while Draco and Chanel snarked, or, sorry, flirted with each other.

She stood next to the couch as Chanel opened the door a tad. "Draco."

"Good. I was beginning to think someone had put a Laggard Hex on

you..." He stopped, and cast his eyes lazily upon her chest. "Nice

jumper."

"Thanks," she replied flatly. "Tori will be coming with us."

Draco frowned. "Klug? Your Muggle keyboard player?"

Still concealed by the partially opened door, Tori rolled her eyes. Can't I just stay here?

"Yes," Chanel answered coolly. "Her name's Tori."

"Hm," Draco pretended to give this some thought. "I just thought her name was BB, you know from that...stage name."

"No, it's Victoria, actually."

"I see. I believe this country once had some grand witch she's named after."

Chanel pursed her lips together to prevent them from twitching with laughter. "Yeah, something like that."

Tori snorted quietly.

Chanel stiffened, her eyes suddenly narrowed at Draco. "How did you get that note on my mirror?"

He blinked. "Your landlord. Though he didn't actually allow me in -- these Muggles, ridiculously suspicious lot."

"We'll meet you outside in two minutes." Chanel growled, closing the door. She then turned around to Tori.

"If I go, this is going to be a long night. I don't think I can hold my tongue for that long," she said seriously, hoping for a reprieve.

"I think it'll be all right," Chanel said, opening the door; Tori hesitantly following after.

Chanel was surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle standing next to Draco, looking so, well, normal. Almost. Goyle's dark, brooding look seemed to be locked squarely on her. She checked it with a defensive glare of her own.

Tori nodded at the two others. She was busy staring at the stretch limousine just behind the three men. Crabbe opened the door, and Goyle went in first. Tori followed, with Chanel just behind her. Draco got in next, followed by Crabbe, and with a quick rap on the partition window, the limo took off smoothly.

Chanel frowned briefly. Five people in a huge limousine, and she ended up sitting next to Draco. Tori, however, was trying to make herself smaller, remaining silent and looking out the window. She didn't like Crabbe and Goyle much; they treated her the same as Draco did, minus the arrogant eloquence. They reminded Tori of Beavis and Butthead, and therefore she tried to stay out of their way as much as possible.

Now she found herself wondering if they were wizards too. Harry hadn't exactly taken the time to point out who was and who wasn't.

"Nice charm, Klug."

Tori turned her head away from the window to look at Draco. Then she looked down at the necklace, and nodded. "Uh, thanks. It's a tiger's eye."

Draco nodded also. "My gran has something like it."

Chanel pictured a platinum haired tot bouncing on an elder witch's knee

and nearly snorted.

Crabbe turned to Tori. "So what does it do?" he asked.

Apparently it means I'm going to be a grandma of someone like Draco...

"It gives me special powers," Tori answered seriously; they all knew she wasn't magical, even if she didn't know their status yet. "To see what other people are thinking."

Crabbe snickered, and Goyle joined in. "What am I thinking, then?"

Immediately, Tori answered, "Nothing. Not a damn thing."

Chanel snickered inwardly. "You, uh, sure that's working?"

"It's working." Draco said, openly smirking. Goyle shot Tori a withering look, and Chanel cleared her throat to change the subject.

"So...where are we going?"

"Penny Lane. You'll enjoy it." Draco turned to Tori, who had resumed looking out the window. "It has something the Muggles call Caroacking."

Tori narrowed her eyes at the passing scenery. One thing she had figured out after her conversation with Harry was that if he wasn't a Muggle, or someone who couldn't do magic, that made her a Muggle, and apparently, Draco didn't like them. Which explained his actions around her, and why Crabbe and Goyle would snicker at her during their onstage rehearsals. So maybe they were wizards, then.

Well, if that's what we call it, what's your name for it? Tori coughed and answered without looking, "Uh, yeah. Karaoke."

Chanel gave a strangled cough and Draco glanced at her, catching her slightly amused expression. He sounded out the correction distastefully. "Karaoke."

"How exactly do they make that?" Crabbe said suddenly.

"What?" Chanel asked, looking at him curiously.

"The...Kerry thing."

Tori bit her lip so hard, she was sure it was about to start bleeding. "Any way you like. I prefer well done," she offered generously, rolling her eyes at Chanel.

Chanel threw a look back at her, but Draco spoke just then. "How exactly did you get mixed up with Potter, anyways?"

Tori shifted her glance to Draco to avoid the look from Chanel, and her eyes narrowed again. In the two or so times that Harry and Draco had been in the same room and started arguing in front of her and Chanel, Tori had noticed that they only called each other by their last names. She really didn't like the way Draco said, "Potter." The way he said it

just sounded so...hateful. She couldn't really explain it. "What?" she asked, not quite sure what he meant by the question.

Chanel smiled thinly. "Harry found her in a music store. She --- she's an excellent songwriter."

Tori managed to twist her scowl at Draco into a surprised sort of smile at Chanel.

"Yes, that Snitch song. Upbeat," Draco offered.

"Draco doesn't let us write any of our songs," Crabbe said.

Draco eyed him critically. "I didn't know you could write, Crabbe."

Goyle sniggered darkly.

Can he even read? Tori thought, as she bit on her lip to keep it to herself.

Draco continued, without missing a beat. "Got anything else penned?"

"Sort of. It took a lot to get Erised out," Tori frowned momentarily as she realized she had never asked Harry what Erised meant.

"Something inspire you?" Draco asked.

Nothing I'm going to tell you. "Uh, yeah, I guess," Tori answered, and looked back out the window, signifying the end of that particular line of questioning.

The limousine pitched suddenly, throwing Chanel into Draco's lap and slamming Tori into Goyle. Tori jerked herself away from Goyle quickly, as Draco spoke softly. "Perhaps I should ride these more often."

Chanel bolted upright, and Draco looked out the window as the limo slowed. "Good. We're here." He looked at Chanel and Tori. "You both up for this?"

Tori glared at Goyle, as if he had caused her to fall against him. "Sure. Let's go."

As they walked into the restaurant, Chanel's stomach rumbled irritably. She tried to ignore it. "Smells good in here."

Draco nodded. "I come here for the kippers."

Tori wondered what the hell kippers were as the waiter escorted them to a semi-private area, where there was a table with two bunches of roses.

Chanel turned to Draco, her eyebrow raised. "What's this?"

Draco laughed. "Come now. I'm sure even Muggles know what flowers are."

Chanel murmured a thank you to Draco as she studied her scarlet roses.

Yes, we...'nonmagical' people know what flowers are. It's a really hard subject, but we get by. Tori managed to smile thinly. "They're...nice."

Draco turned to her without looking at her. "The florist suggested roses. I asked if they had the flower of your homeland, but he said they weren't seasonal."

Tori resisted the urge to snort. She wasn't even sure there was a national flower. "It's the...thought that counts," she said, glancing at Chanel, who shrugged lightly.

"Glad that will do," Draco said as they took their seats. "We'll need some bread while the ladies order," he said to the waiter hovering just over his shoulder.

Chanel spoke. "I'll order now. I'd like Beef Wellington and a baked potato."

Draco jutted a brow. "You haven't even looked at the menu."

"Nearly every country has beef," Chanel retorted smugly. "And if they don't have a potato, then they need to give Ireland the boot."

Draco chuckled as Goyle ordered the lobster bisque and Crabbe ordered the..."Karaoke."

There was silence as Chanel blinked once at Crabbe before looking at Tori.

Tori was already biting her lip, but she couldn't hold it in. To the waiter, she said, "He's not from around here. He means the chicken."

On the pretense of picking something up from the ground, Tori discreetly scooted her chair closer to Chanel and further away from Crabbe, hoping that the stupidity wasn't contagious.

Draco was speaking to the waiter. "Has my shipment come in?" The waiter nodded and he answered, "Just that, then."

The waiter scurried off and returned almost immediately, handing a large, beautifully ornate bottle to Draco.

Chanel glanced at the bottle curiously. "Is that..."

"Firewhiskey," Crabbe replied excitedly.

"I thought we'd like to play a small game while we wait," Draco proposed, looking pointedly at Tori. "Are you in?"

Inwardly, Tori snorted, even though she had no idea what Firewhiskey was, figuring it was just a type of whiskey. "Of course," she answered disdainfully, hating how he insinuated she wasn't up to what the rest of them were.

Chanel was impressed. "In," she added, as another waiter deposited a large basket of bread at the table.

"Good," Draco said, looking at the bread. "We'll need this. The game is called 'Earnestness or Repercussions.' I'll start by asking a question. Whomever I ask must give a straight answer. I'll know if you're lying. I'll keep going until one of you manages to tell me something truthful. We'll start with one shot of Firewhiskey as the consequence."

He poured a shot and looked at Tori. "Klug, what are you doing in England?"

Tori was taken aback momentarily. Oh no, you don't... "Playing in a band," she retorted indignantly.

Draco scowled heavily. "Very well. Goyle. Did you jinx Potter's sound equipment?"

Chanel turned sharply to Goyle as he remained silent. Tori glared at Goyle, remembering all the fuss about the speakers, which was where Harry was right now.

"Ah, that's a refusal. Repercussion!" Draco added a bit more to the shot glass and pushed it toward Goyle, who stoutly plugged the shot, but shuddered as well. Tori felt slightly worried, wondering how different Firewhiskey really was.

Draco eyed Crabbe, but passed him over. "Sweet."

Chanel met him with a steely gaze.

"Why didn't you attend Hogwarts?"

Chanel's mouth tightened, her chin rising defiantly. Draco grinned and pushed the potent liquid towards her. She tipped the glass back slowly, feeling her throat burn.

Draco turned suddenly on Tori. "Fancy someone?"

She stiffened momentarily, then relaxed. "Sure," she remarked off-handedly.

He leaned in close. "Anyone we know?"

Tori's eyes narrowed in an attempt to conceal the heat rising inside her. Stricken, she grabbed the glass roughly and downed the shot. Immediately, she spluttered, her lungs seemingly on fire, burning horribly.

Draco smirked as Tori coughed, her eyes watering. "That was quick." He immediately rounded on Chanel. "Now we do triple shots," he continued, before Chanel could react. "Sweet, the concert passes. The original ones. What's happened to them?"

Crabbe and Goyle leaned in, looking at Chanel curiously. Even Tori, thankful that the attention had been diverted from her, managed to focus her watering eyes on Chanel.

Chanel took a small breath. "Nothing. They're on my mirror."

Draco's eyes held a strange gleam. "That's a refusal to tell the truth. Three shots."

Tori wiped her eyes, still coughing, lungs still heaving. How the hell did he know?

Goyle frowned. "She won't make it."

Draco held up a hand as Chanel squared her shoulders and reached for the first glass. "She entered this game on a gentlemen's agreement. Three shots."

There was silence as Chanel gulped down her first shot. Draco poured another, and Chanel took a deep breath before bravely knocking back the second one. Her throat seared with flames.

"She's done," Goyle stated flatly. But Chanel's fingers were already curling around the third and final shot, her head swimming, her body on fire, and she tilted her head back.

Tori wondered why Chanel didn't just tell him she ripped them up. Or how she was surviving three shots of the horrible stuff, while her throat was still burning and her stomach churning. She watched apprehensively as Chanel slammed the last shot with lightning speed.

The three men at the table sat back, stunned and impressed. "My, aren't

you a wild one," Draco murmured.

Chanel's head was swirling, and she tried to focus on Tori, not sure if she was seeing one of two of the keyboardist. She swayed towards Tori who steadied her and glared at Draco.

The food arrived then, and Crabbe rubbed his hands together as the chicken was placed before him. Goyle looked thoughtfully at Chanel before eating.

Chanel was feeling pleasantly goosed. "Well, that was something."

"Yes, it was," Draco considered her quietly, slowly sipping his Firewhiskey.

She hiccupped sharply, suppressing a snort of laughter.

*******

Christ!

Even the explosive thought threatened to split what felt like only a delicate seam keeping her head together. Chanel pressed two fingers to her throbbing temples, massaging gingerly.

She had the vaguest memory of ordering dinner, the taste of the soft, creamy potatoes and tender beef eluding her...Did she really even eat? What she remembered very clearly was Firewhiskey. Lots of it. And Draco.

He'd slipped into a watchful silence as she began slurring and rambling on about gnomes or trolls or -- whatever. And the giggling! Why hadn't Tori stopped her?? She groaned,

soliciting a fresh new wave of nauseous pain. Now, she most definitely felt like a prize idiot.

There was a brief, nearly timid rap at the outer door and she pushed carefully off the firm mattress, cradling her head. Tori was curled up on the living room couch, arms clutching her stomach, in what appeared to be a coma. Chanel jerked the door open on the second knock, startling a delivery man. What the fuck, mate? It's barely dawn. She

hiked a brow irritably as he shoved a clipboard at her, offering an apologetic shrug.

In the hall behind him were dozens of blooms: brilliant purples, violets, and rich plums. Her eyes flicked to the man questioningly. He tapped the line requiring a signature. Her name was already stamped in thick block letters beside it. She gave the pad a hesitant, illegible scribble, waving the courier away.

Chanel stood for some time in the doorway, staring stupidly at the sea of flowers before realizing that she was only wearing an old ragged shirt Harry had attempted to bin years ago. She began hauling the delivery into her room, carefully avoiding the creaky

floorboard in the living room.

Her bedroom door shut with a quiet click. Turning to the clutter of bouquets now jammed on her dresser, she arms crossed. Funeral? Early April Fool's? Stalker? She scanned the fragrant bundles, finally settling on a small white card, plucking it from the blooms. She

immediately took in the slow graceful quill strokes:

'A new friend is like wine; when it is old, drink it with pleasure.'

A shiver suddenly ripped down her spine and the card fluttered from her hand to the ground. She steadied the silly gallop of her heart, slowly backing away until her knees hit the edge of the mattress and she sank onto the bed.

Draco.

Angrily bundling herself in the threadbare blankets, Chanel shut her eyes.

The image of the limousine crept stealthily into her head. They'd shuffled quietly back into the sleek car, too stuffed with food and liquor to speak. But the drinking had not stopped between her and Draco.

At the table, she'd drunkenly blurted that Draco had slyly managed to avoid being questioned and it suddenly became an unspoken challenge. He took three swift plugs of Firewhiskey before slamming down the glass, his eyes sparking. She swiped his glass and added it to her three, smirking. He glowered, borrowing from Goyle to see her one and raise one. Somewhere along the line, she felt a sharp nudge from Tori and promptly ignored it.

Maybe she regretted it a little now, thinking of how she'd nearly fallen on her ass stumbling out of the restaurant. Two strong hands caught and steadied her until she was in the limo and suddenly the night sky was whirling past the windows and causing her stomach to churn. She'd closed her eyes and leaned into the solid unyielding jut of his shoulder, inhaling deeply.

Aspen.

Merlin, he smelled good.

She moaned wantonly into her pillow, rewarded with a fresh wallop to the head.