Chronicles of The Boy Who Lived

*******

Tori woke up late the next morning with the blanket pulled over her head, debating how long she should hide under it. A second later, she sat up, and pulled the blanket off. "Stop being stupid," she told herself. "The song said 'friend.' 'Friend.'"

Still, she remembered the car trip home--another quiet one. In between blushing, Tori was confused by Chanel's stony demeanor. Why wasn't she smiling smugly--the job had been done. She, Tori, had been embarrassed hugely. Wasn't that the point ---a jab at her silly looks at Harry, which Chanel had interpreted correctly, and which Harry knew, obviously, or he did now.

But then she'd find herself watching Harry, hands folded in his lap, and she'd make herself look away, in case he looked up.

Tori swung her feet off the couch, where one of them came into to contact with something hard, flat and cold. Stifling a yelp, she pulled her feet up and peered over to see a small, green book lying on the floor next to her cellular.

Picking it up, Tori read the cover. "Quid--ditch...Quidditch through the Ages...hm," Was it something of Harry's? She looked inside the front cover and found a scribble which bore his name.

Curious, she settled back into the old couch and flipped through the book, glancing at the pictures.

Sometime after noon, Chanel opened her door and stepped out. "We're meeting HP at the High Browsmen Tavern tonight--eight o'clock," she grunted irritably.

Tori looked up, and closed the book. "Okay," she said, debating whether to ask Chanel why she had done what she did last night. And why she was not in good spirits about their reactions.

Chanel eyed the thin book as Tori reached for her notebook. "What's that?"

Tori glanced down, the book already forgotten next to her lap. "Oh. It was on the floor by the couch. I think it's Harry's."

Chanel grunted noncommittally, then turned back in her room, slamming the door shut.

***

Tori didn't see Chanel again until it was after eight. She had thought about knocking on her door at ten after eight, to see if she was ready, but decided against it. It did not seem like a good idea to bother Chanel in any way right now. Instead, she had picked up the green book again and started to flip through it once more when Chanel came out of her room, said, "Let's go," and crossed the threshold in three steps. Tori jumped up and grabbed her bag, book still in hand, and hurried after her.

***

Harry was already there as they entered the casual dining room. "You're late," he said to Chanel.

Chanel shrugged as she slipped into her seat. "Yeah, well, I'm here. Consider yourself lucky."

He turned to Tori. "Hi," he said, trying to act normal; they hadn't said a word to each other since the concert. At the very least, his greeting was oddly formal.

Tori managed to return the greeting, and was saved from an awkward silence and Chanel's eye rolling by noticing the green book she still had in her hand. "Oh, I think this is yours. It was lying by the couch," she explained, holding it out to him.

Harry stared at the book, caught off guard. "Well, yeah. I thought you'd like it. It's about the history of Quidditch--I mentioned something about it when we--talked..."

There was a pause before she answered. "...Right." Tori said quickly, before she remembered. She had still been too caught up in the whole idea of the magic that night to remember exactly what he had said about it. Oh, wait, a sport, he liked it...or played it...on broomsticks?

Chanel, who was ordering a scotch, darted a quick look at the book as Tori pulled it back towards her.

Harry looked relieved as Tori put the book back into her bag. "Thanks. I'll read it as soon as I have a spare moment and get it back to you."

"No rush," he replied quickly.

Chanel suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Oh goody, now we're on to gift exchanges. She cleared her throat, starting somewhat irritably. "Look, guys, about last night -- "

A brief jarring bump to the back of her chair stopped her. She snapped her head up, pausing in the middle of a few choice words.

Harry and Tori looked up as well; Harry's anger flared, as it always did upon the sight of Draco Malfoy. And Pansy Parkinson was with him as well.

Chanel's eyes narrowed dangerously at Draco as he waggled two fingers playfully at her, steering Pansy in the opposite direction. The slender witch pressed closer into his side, her long nails curled possessively around his arm.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What are they doing here?"

Chanel recovered smoothly as Tori stared after the two. "We're on an island, HP. What are you gonna do?"

"Who was that with him?" Tori asked, as the waiter arrived with the drinks, which Chanel snatched quickly.

"Pansy Parkinson." Harry said levelly, as Chanel gulped down half her scotch.

Tori said nothing more, having made the connection with that name and the earlier conversation with Chanel about Draco's visitor.

"So, did you hear how they finally got the audience to come to after the Veelas?" Harry asked them stiffly, turning back to the table, trying for normal conversation.

Tori shook her head; Chanel finished her drink and hailed the waiter, signaling for another one.

"Apparently, they had to shut off the power. That woke them up."

"That's what Sharon said," Chanel remembered, making a face. "Something needs to be done about that."

The waiter appeared just then, but Chanel didn't see a glass. "The gentlemen from that table over there would like to buy your party this bottle of house wine," the waiter said, gesturing behind him and presenting the wine with a flourish.

Harry turned to see Draco tip his head. Glaring, he turned back. "Tell the...no thanks."

Draco's brow rose clearly as the waiter approached him and relayed the message. He whispered something back, and the waiter turned and dutifully returned to the first table.

"Pardon me, but the gentleman insists. He says that it is for a Ms. Steele, and begs that she does not refuse him."

Chanel whirled around to glare at Draco, and found Pansy ensnaring him like a piece of Devil's snare. Chanel turned rigidly to the server. "Fine," she said crisply. "I'll accept. But please tell the gentlemen that he's going to need a better napkin than the one he's got in his lap."

Tori abruptly ducked her head and spat out the soda she had just sipped. Sitting up and wiping her mouth, she bit her tongue and covered her mouth as she watched Pansy. Harry coughed to avoid smiling, having been stunned out of his anger.

Chanel caught Draco's eye and spoke loudly. "Yes, let us toast our kind admirer."

As if to grab the bottle, she moved her arm in a wide sweeping arch, but caught it with the flat of her hand. It tipped over the edge of the table and the dull splatter of liquid and sharp tinkling of glass made for a very satisfying sound. Chanel turned two very wide and owlish eyes on Draco.

Draco's face immediately drained of all color, and with a sharp nudge, Pansy stilled herself.

"I am so sorry," Chanel intoned apologetically, feigning shock. "How much was that wine, sir?"

The waiter choked on his words as he quickly knelt to clean up the mess. "One--one thousand, three hundred and seventy-six pounds, Madame."

Harry snorted, but it only sounded in his throat. Tori's hand dropped from her mouth, shocked, but she was still smiling.

Chanel blinked, her mouth nearly slipping open. She snatched a fresh glass of scotch off the tray of a new waiter, sitting back stiffly. "Well, my condolences to the gentleman. I'm sure it was a very good year."

Tori bit her lip as she became aware that Draco was still watching their table. She quickly averted her gaze and looked at Chanel.

"I don't believe you did that." Harry said suddenly, causing both the girls to look at him in surprise.

"I'm glad," he said, smiling, "but I don't believe it."

Tori glanced over at Draco's attempts to push Pansy away discreetly from his lap, and she closed her eyes, trying to will away the oncoming threat of laughter.

Chanel closed her eyes briefly against the sting of alcohol as it slid down her throat and quietly asked the waiter for another.

***

The sleek alpine white owl that had been tapping at her window for over an hour. For nearly that same amount of time, Chanel had been pretending not to notice.

She finally jumped up from the bed and quickly snapped the paper thin curtains across the glass. The bird struck harder. She dove under the covers, swaddling them around her brew-sloshed head, but it barely muffled the sharp insistant noise. Biting back a strangled growl, she snapped the blankets away and trudged out of the room.

The owl now stared plaintively at her from the large rectangular window of the living room. Chanel caught the flimsy strings of the blinds and gave it a strong yank, managing only to launch them towards the ceiling in a tangled mess.

Fuck. Me.

The owl cocked its head as if laughing and rapped the glass.

But Chanel heard nothing. The repetive drilling stutter of a jackhammer from street muted the bird's obnoxious tapping. A slow, triumphant grin twisted her lips.

"Eat that, you flying rodent."

She went to her dresser and swirled through a mess of items in a drawer until she found a pair of dark sunglasses. She returned to the living room, promptly flopping onto the couch.

"Sorry, ole girl," Chanel grunted towards the window, closing her eyes.

"Hear no evil, see no evil."

***

At ten o'clock, Tori opened the door to the flat with breakfast in hand and found Chanel dozing on the couch, sunglasses on. She set down Chanel's black coffee and the bag of muffins. She had wanted doughnuts, but the little store at the corner only had jelly-filled. The rain had prevented her from walking five blocks north to the petrol station.

Chanel started suddenly, and sat up, noticing Tori. "Thanks," she grumbled, reaching for the coffee.

"Sure." Tori sat down on the floor and opened her Diet Coke. "How you doing?"

Chanel shrugged irritably. "Been better. Where's HP?"

"Looking for a translator," Tori said, picking out a blueberry muffin. "He said we'd need one in Germany; we're supposed to meet them at the arena. How are we getting to the airport, by the way?"

"Shuttle. We leave in two hours--that reminds me; got to check and see what time they'll be here." Chanel got up and went to her room to get the reservation ticket.

Tori could hear her punching in the automated number, followed by silence and then swearing as Chanel angrily slammed the phone back in its receiver and stormed out. "Fuck. The shuttle's been cancelled. There was an accident en route --- the rain."

Tori looked out the window at the rain, which had gotten heavier. "Great. What are we going to do?"

Chanel grabbed Tori's cellular from the foot of the couch and quickly dashed off a number. After speaking tersely, she hung up and tossed the phone to Tori. "Come on, we got a cab to catch."

***

Sharon opened her door quickly, looking somewhat surprised even though Chanel had just talked to her. "Girls, is everything alright?" she asked, peering closely at Chanel.

Chanel adjusted her sunglasses and mumbled, "Been better. Our shuttle's down, and we need to figure out how to get to Heathrow. That, and HP's at the arena talking to our...translator."

Sharon shook her head and stepped back to allow them in. "Oh, my. Well, we were actually supposed to leave last night. Draco called from the Cornwallis this morning. I'm guessing he had a difficult night."

Chanel's mouth tightened at this, which Sharon noticed; she glanced at Tori, who shrugged. "Really? Is everything okay?" Tori asked, feigning innocence.

Sharon frowned slightly. "I'm not sure. He didn't sound quite like himself. But I don't think Pansy is with him."

Chanel coughed irritably. "That's the breaks. Anyways, what time are you leaving now?" she spoke quickly, before something else came out of her mouth.

"Draco sent a limo. It should be around in twenty minutes."

"Great," Chanel mumbled. "HP's still at the damn arena."

Sharon was silent for a moment. "Well, I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind giving you girls a lift to the airport. Perhaps Harry and your translator can leave from the arena instead of doubling back to your flat."

A tiny sigh escaped Chanel's throat. "We had standby tickets. We were already supposed to be on our way."

"I'm sure that there's something we can do to help." Sharon patted Chanel's shoulder maternally as Chanel slumped into a nearby chair. "Tori, dear, why don't you call Harry and tell him there's been a change of plans; see if he can manage getting to the airport on his own."

Tori glanced down at her hand, clutching her phone. "Uh, sure." She flipped open her phone and hit the number two.

Harry answered after two rings, sounding surprised. "...Hello. Everything okay?"

Tori paused, the recent memory of the concert refreshing itself in her mind. She pushed it out. "Not really. Uh, you still at the arena?"

"Yeah, why?"

Tori glanced at an irritable Chanel. "The shuttle got cancelled; there was an accident." She moved back a couple of steps as Chanel coughed loudly. "Can you get to the airport?"

"I'm sure that someone here can drop us off. What about you two?"

There was an anxious pause, and then Tori started to speak quickly. "Well, um, SharonsaidDracocouldgiveusaridetotheairport..."

"What?" he said loudly, unbelieving. "Malfoy?"

"Well, we really don't have a choice." Tori cursed inwardly, for not being able to slip that by him. "Even if you got a ride and came back for us, we'd miss our flight. We have standby tickets."

"I know, but that doesn't matter. We'll find a later flight." Harry said sharply, sounding irritated. Malfoy probably instigated all this...he thought, holding up a finger as someone near him began speaking.

"Well, I wouldn't mind--er," she stopped in her attempt to placate him, as a loud huffing sound came from Chanel's direction. "But...we really should get there as soon as we can...You know, the more we can get done today, the less to do tomorrow."

"That's not the point," he admitted grudgingly, although he felt it would be stupid to say exactly what the point was. "I don't like that he's taking you to the airport."

Tori glanced at the back of Chanel's head. "Agreed," she said, not able to ask more. "We'll be fine, and we'll see you when we get there."

She said good bye and closed her phone quickly. "He says he can get a ride to the airport."

Sharon picked up her phone and dialed Draco's hotel, listened in silence and then hung up. "It seems he's left the hotel already."

Chanel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Look, maybe we'll figure something else out. You don't have to go through the trouble--"

Sharon held up a hand, politely cutting Chanel off. "Nonsense. What trouble? The driver will drop you off at the airport." She rummaged in a large handbag, coming up with a tin of biscuits and a thermos of hot tea.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Sharon got up to answer it. "Oh, good," she said, seeing that it was the driver. "These young ladies will be coming with us. Be a dear and grab their things."

The driver grabbed their bags and all three women followed him out to a black limo that was larger than the one they had been in a couple of days ago. He packed their belongings in the trunk before opening the door for them. One by one, they slid inside.

Draco was stretched out in a rather slack position, wearing a neat woolen coat and leather gloves. Upon seeing Chanel, he straightened up and glowered menacingly.

Tori scooted in, trying to be unobtrusive, but Draco rounded on her. "What's this all about?"

Surprised that he was actually speaking to her, Tori smiled thinly. "This is about you giving us a ride to the airport," she said, her tone mockingly polite. "Thanks, by the way."

Draco snapped his head towards Sharon, who remained solemn. He returned his glare to Tori. "And how do you intend to pay for this?"

Impressed that he managed to address another sentence to her, Tori simply said, "I thought this was your limo."

Draco fixed her with a most toxic look. "If you are looking for an act of charity, go beg elsewhere."

God, you are a snot. She pretended to be taken aback. "I'm not confusing you for an act of charity. I know what kind of act you are. And Sharon is the one who kindly offered us the use of the limo."

There was a thick silence before she continued. "But if you're truly concerned about looking magnanimous, which could ruin your reputation, then by all means, we will pay for the limo."

Draco's eyes turned impossibly flat and cold. He snapped open his mouth, but Sharon firmly patted his leg, interrupting the potential onslaught. She turned to Tori and spoke kindly. "Really. There's no need. We'd be only happy to help."

Tori shrugged, the fight gone, and she stared out the window. Draco made a low, threatening noise and glared out a window as well.

Sharon watched Chanel, who was watching Draco. "I'm sure we'll get there shortly, so you'll have time to make your standby."

Draco snorted. "Ha! You'll be lucky if you get there sometime next week. There's been an accident on the motorway. People with regular flights will be backed up."

Chanel suppressed a deep sigh. "Shit," she muttered.

Draco turned away from the window, suddenly amused. "I'll say."

Sharon shot him a patient look. "Well then, the least we can do is fly you over to Germany with us."

"What?!?" Draco hissed.

"What?" echoed Chanel, thrown.

"Uh, n-no, no," Tori stuttered, her face full of worry and apprehension. "We should make it there in plenty of time."

Sharon waved her hand. "You said earlier that the more you got done, the better. And you do have a very short time to prepare for the concert." She continued calmly. "Sooner would help. So, everyone, relax," Sharon finished, smiling gently.

Chanel mulled over the logic; Tori had said it earlier. Suddenly she felt extremely tense. "Why would it make any difference if we left with you or chanced catching our standby?"

A tiny, confused smile appeared on Sharon's lips. A tiny, confused smile appeared on Sharon's lips. "Because, dear, we are flying by private jet."

Draco's mouth twisted in a deliciously Slytherin smirk.

Chanel turned to stare at Tori, who spoke. "Harry knows we'll be at the airport. We'd rather travel with him if possible." She didn't even want to imagine his reaction to them flying out with Draco. And I'm not getting on a private jet with him...she thought, narrowing her eyes at Draco, who was clearly enjoying this.

Draco's lips curled in amusement at her thought. "Good luck there, Klug," he drawled. "I mean, getting through all the miles of mangled vehicles and all."

Tori scowled and stared at the carpet. Chanel frowned at Draco, contemplating.

He continued nonchalantly. "It seems Muggles can't even manage the rain. One car goes smashing into another..." he trailed off with a bored sigh. "Never happens when you Apparate."

Chanel was quiet for a moment, trying to fight off the creeping desperation. "You know this for sure?"

He stretched lazily to snap on the 21 inch TV across from him, flipping the channels before stopping on one where news choppers were whirling over the scene of the mass accident. Chanel turned to look at Tori meaningfully, who shot back a look of exasperation.

"This is not going to go over well," Tori muttered to herself.

"Mm. Potter will lose his mind," Draco chuckled.

Again, Sharon pressed a hand to his leg firmly. Chanel glared at him before reluctantly settling back into the soft rich leather. The inhabitants of the limo fell silent as time passed.

Chanel found herself being shaken awake by Tori; they had arrived at the airport. Chanel stumbled from the limo, blinking at the sleek jet. Tori was glaring at it, clearly not happy.

Draco was already stomping determinedly up the boarding steps. Chanel followed, and had just barely caught a glimpse of the gorgeous cream and gold interior, the plush carpeting and the chardonnay waiting on gold platters when she felt a hand on her arm.

Tori dropped her arm quickly as Draco disappeared, and said quietly, "Do you really think this is our only option? Or even a generally good idea?"

Resigned, Chanel fixed her with an even look. "It looks that way, doesn't it?" she said, watching Tori stand resolutely at the top of the boarding steps.

Tori stood defensively, knowing that Chanel was right, but hating it. "I still get the distinct feeling that this isn't the best idea," she continued, not wanting to mention Harry's name while Draco was in earshot.

"What's done is done," Chanel said, and she firmly pulled a still-reluctant Tori into the cabin. "We all have to eat shit from time to time. Let's just get this over with."