Never Let Go

A fire burned deep within my being as I watched him disappear from sight with my bag in tow. I wanted to smack him for having taken my ninety dollar investment and not only was it a serious financial investment for me, but it was also the only supply I had. That bag was all the marijuana that I had brought with me from America. It was supposed to last two or three weeks but I didn’t even have the opportunity to sample its taste. And even worse, I had no means of returning to America to visit my dealer in Northern California. So I was fucked.

I let out a loud animalistic growl, frustrated by the turn of events that the morning had taken. I should have just spent the morning in bed. That would have a much better outcome, but no, I'm incapable of suffering from boredom for more than ten minutes. As soon as the ten minute mark strikes I have to do something, even if it’s reckless which it is about 34% of the time, the other 66% of the time, the things are just stupid.

On one occasion I had stood on the roof of a car while it was in motion and ended up falling from it when it turned left faster than I had anticipated it would. That stunt landed me in the hospital for two days and put me in bed rest for a week. It was an incredibly foolish thing to do. It also happened to be one of the most enjoyable. I stood there reminiscing awhile longer, the fire slowly dying down into nothing more than a flickering light that no longer truly counted as anger and when I hit that point. I decided that it was time to return home.

By that time the sun had already taken its rightful place in the heavens. Its rays bore down, reaching my flesh which began to grow warm from the exposure. This caused to pick up my pace for I didn’t want to be stuck in the sun without any sunscreen on. I had overly sensitive skin that burned quickly and with the burns, came the unpleasant pealing phase which always left me feeling like a leper.

Halfway to the house, I stumbled across Mitzi whom looked like she was about to kill someone. Her normally kind face was contorted into one of utter rage. I wondered who could have angered her so and then it hit me. Luke must have told her that I had marijuana on me; damn snitch.

“Luke told Mitzi that Luke would protect Millie but Luke left Millie alone!” cried an outraged Mitzi. “If Luke didn’t want to take care of Millie, Luke shouldn’t have promised he would!”

“Wait . . . what?” I was unsure if I she was really upset over that or if my mind was playing tricks on me.

“Luke left Millie alone!” repeated Mitzi. “When Mitzi sees Luke again, Mitzi will strike him with a spoon.”

The thought of Mitzi hitting Luke with a large spoon was absurd yet absolutely hilarious. It also made me want to laugh but the urge had to be fought back.

“Calm down, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” I told her.

“And it will be Luke’s fault!” cried Mitzi, her anger not lessening.

I knelt down before her. Eyes firmly fixed on hers in an attempt to convey the fact that I was fine. “I'm okay.”

“But . . .” Mitzi began to protest.

Her furrowed brow told me that she was readying herself to go off on one of her long rants which last well over an hour. I wasn’t in the mood to hear one of her rants so I did the only thing I could. I wrapped my arms around her tiny midsection and placed a delicate kiss on her cheek. This always made Mitzi forget what she was angry about. And sure enough, she did just that. Now that we were both calm, we resumed the walk to the cottage where we were greeted by my Nan and Grandpa, the former was busy cooking breakfast while the latter sat at the table with his copy of the wizard version of The Washington Post.

“What a surprise to see you up so early!” exclaimed Nan, a tender smile playing across her lips as her short, messy hair fell into her face, successfully shielding her chocolate brown eyes from view.

“Awe come on Nan, I don’t sleep in that late.”

“Last summer, we tried waking you up before eleven and you smacked your poor grandfather in the face.”

I turned scarlet. “That only happened once and in my defense, I went to sleep at seven that morning because I was working on that briefing for Grandpa’s office.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you smacked an old man,” Thomas lowered his newspaper and scrunched his nose at me in a teasing manner. “I should have turned you over to the authorities for beating the elderly.”

“Who’s beating the elderly?” Luke entered the kitchen. He was no longer wearing his pajamas but instead wore a pair of dark washed jeans that were accompanied by a dark brown v-neck sweater.

“Emilia was,” replied Thomas. “And what are you doing up so early? I heard you typing when I woke up at four so I assumed you were going to sleep until at least noon.”

“I would have if I had fallen asleep, but fortunately for me, sleep refused to visit.”

Nan stopped stirring the potatoes in the pan. “You’re not taking the potion the healers gave you, are you?”

Luke responded by shaking his head.

“The healers gave you those potions for a reason. What good does it do for you to have it when you don’t bloody use it?!”

“Don’t act like I wanted those potions. The only reason I have them is because you forced me to go to the healers with you so if you’re bloody upset by the fact that I don’t use the potions that you have shipped out to me, then that’s on you because I told you from day one that I wasn’t going to take them.”

“And I told you that you didn’t have a choice!” Nan roared, her eyes burning with fury as she stared at her youngest child.

“There’s always a choice and I’d rather be a sleep deprived neurotic than a heavily medicated little prat that prances around pretending that rainbows shoot out of his arse.”

Grandpa could no longer sit by in silence. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.”

“So I can’t tell her the truth?” Luke scoffed. “Of course not, because in this family we don’t talk about the truth when it’s ugly, we ignore it. And that’s why Dominic’s dead, because we all wanted to pretend that he was getting better when he wasn’t. And you knew, both of you knew that he was going to hell but you were so obsessed with getting this family look normal after the war that you refused to see the shambles he was in. You let him fall apart!”

At that, my Nan lunged towards him, raising her right hand up to the heavens to strike. That was the first in my life that I had ever seen her raise her hand at anyone and at that moment, I wanted to hurt him for having upset her. He had no right talking to her like that.

“Mum . . .”whispered Luke as he clutched his cheek. He was clearly shocked by her behavior.

“How can you say that,” tears streamed down Nan’s cheeks, smearing her mascara. “If anyone knows what I went through with Dominic, it was you. You saw me throwing him in the bath when I couldn’t wake him up, you saw me shove my arm down his throat so that he’d throw up, you saw me do all that and you have the audacity to stand there and tell me that I refused to see the shambles he was in. Let me tell you something Luke and I want you to listen closely, Dominic was all I could think about and to this day, there are nights when I lie awake, thinking of what I could’ve done differently so don’t you dare tell me that I let him fall apart because I did everything that I could.”

“We know you did, love,” Grandpa tightly wrapped his arms around her. He gently caressed her back, wanting to take the pain from her. “Are you happy now?!” he asked, turning to look at Luke.

“I d-didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it . . .” was Grandpa’s only response.

I stood motionless in the midst of them, watching in silence as Grandpa escorted Nan out of the kitchen. I had never witnessed such an exchange between Nan and anyone in the family. I’d only ever seen teenage girls make each other cry, but never a son a mother; never that.

“You know I didn’t mean it,” Luke grasped my hand in his. He stared deeply into my eyes, causing me to flinch from the amount of guilt that radiated from his. “I just don’t know what got into me. I just got so bloody defensive over the bloody potions that she wants me to take and lost it, but I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t mean it and I'm so sorry for . . .”

“Saying that you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that you just acted like the biggest fucking douche bag on the face of the earth and that’s including Voldemort because I'm pretty sure that if his mother had lived, he would have never talked to her like that.”

“But Emilia . . .”

“Don’t, but Emilia, me! You’re a dick for having talked to Nan like that and you deserve to feel ashamed and guilty so don’t waste your time trying to get a sympathetic response from me, because I'm not going to give you one. Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to fix the mess you made.”

There was only one thing that I could to make Nan smile and it was something that I wasn’t particularly skilled at doing, scratch that, it was something that I was absolutely horrible at but people always seemed to like my singing, if not for the quality, for the outlandish manner in which I delivered it.

I ran up to my room and grabbed my old record player along with an album. I placed the record player on a desk in a hallway and plugged it in. I then set up the album and lowered the needle to it, when the music began to play I rushed to the entrance to the living room where Nan and Grandpa were in and burst through it, eager to make a spectacle of myself.

“Listen Baby

Ain’t no mountain high.
Ain’t no valley low.
Ain't no river wide enough baby.

If you need me, call me
No matter where you are
No matter how far,

Don’t worry baby

Just call my name
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry

cause baby,
There ain’t no mountain high enough
ain't no valley low enough
ain’t no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you, babe . . .”

By the time the song had ended, Nan’s tears had dried. Her sobs had been replaced with booming laughter that echoed throughout the room, laughter that served to put my heart and surely the heart of Grandpa at ease. She clapped her hands enthusiastically as she laughed, applauding to my God awful singing performance in a fashion that only a grandmother can.

She left her place on the couch and walked towards me, stopping only when she could engulf me in a strong embrace. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to than me, Nan. I'm your granddaughter, I have to make you smile or else I’d be a shitty one.”

Nan shook her head disapprovingly. “I’ve told you not to use that language.”

“Awe Nan, I just made you laugh and now you’re scolding me? That doesn’t seem very fair to me.”

“Just because you made me laugh that doesn’t mean that you can curse like a sailor.”

“Sailor’s don’t say shitty,” I argued. “They probably say some really obscene word that’s so vulgar that my mind can’t even imagine.” I grew quiet, losing myself in thought. “Nan, do you think you can find a pirate ship that’ll take me on?”

“What?!” she cried, her eyes widening in horror. “Emilia Rose Renner! You’re mad if you think we’d put you on a pirate ship where they’d, do Merlin knows what to you!”

“Pirates like skanks and since I'm not a skank or skanky, they wouldn’t want me like that.”

“Emilia makes a good point,” Grandpa chimed in.

Nan began laughing so hard that she snorted. “Thomas, you can’t be serious!”

“I'm quite serious. In fact, I think we should all become pirates. We’ll sail around the world for the rest of our lives and when it’s time for Millie to take a husband, we’ll steal one for her from some posh coastal town.”

“Can we get him from Italy? I’ve always wanted an Italian.” I went along with my Grandpa’s absurd statement. I knew he was doing it just to keep Nan smiling.

“Oh yes, we can even throw in a Frenchman, that way you don’t get bored at sea.”

I thrust my fist in the air, “Hell yeah, life is looking up.”

“You’re both bloody mad. You know that, don’t you?”

“At least it’s an endearing sort of madness.” Grandpa spoke. “Isn’t that right, Millie?”

“Quite right,” I agreed.

Nan shook her head, smiling merrily as she did so. That smile informed us that the morning’s drama had been left in the past, at least for the time being.

We went back to doing what we’d been doing before; Nan started cooking again, Grandpa returned to his paper and I helped Nan by making fresh squeezed orange juice. When we finished breakfast and cleaned up, I went to look for Mitzi whom was busy in her room. I told her that it was time to start working on the desert if she wanted to take it to them by lunchtime.

Mitzi zoomed into the kitchen, the entire while talking about how lovely it would be to see The Weasley’s so grown up. I tried to help her during the process, but she politely told me that I could be of most help by playing her favorite albums for her. So I moved the record player into the kitchen and put on her favorite album, it was a Marvin Gaye album. Mitzi danced around the kitchen, singing along in her high pitched voice. It was a sight that I loved to see.

A few hours later, Mitzi finished the assortment of pastries that she had made for desert. We waited for them to cool so we could get started on decorating them and when we did, we piled them into a large tray that I would carry over. Mitzi always went overboard when she made pastries.

After the last pastry had been placed within the tray, I ran up the stairs to change. I quickly pulled some dark washed jeans which I paired with a vintage blouse and vest that I had found at a thrift store in America. The blouse and vest had cost less than eight dollars. It had been a true bargain. I rummaged around the room in search of my wingtip oxfords. They were my favorite shoes, I’d had them for three years and the sole had been replaced four times, but they were never going to be thrown away, they’d always be in use. I eventually found them hidden in the back of the closet and as soon I slipped them on, I grabbed my bag and ran out of the room.

I ran down to the living room where Mitzi sat waiting for me. She had changed into a floral print sundress that I had made her for Christmas. It was obvious to look her best for them. Sitting across from Mitzi was my Nan. She hadn’t wanted us to go over since she claimed that Molly was going to have her hands full with her children and Ron’s two friends, but we managed to convince her otherwise and after giving us a blessing, we were on our way to The Burrow.

The walk was shorter than usual. I practically power walked most of the way since Mitzi was bouncing about the path with excitement. I had half a mind to ask her if she had taken cocaine or ecstasy but knew very well that the aged house elf would never use drugs.

“The Burrow has not changed!” Mitzi gushed, her eyes scanning the oddly shaped home.

“I told you it hadn’t.”

“But Mitzi did not believe that it did not! Is the inside the same? OH! Is the strange clock with the spoons still there?!” Mitzi had always been fascinated by their family clock. We had tried to make one when I was twelve but failed miserably.

“Still there,” I replied as we walked up the pathway to The Burrow. “Ah here we are.” I lifted my foot and kicked the door a few times.

“Millie! What a lovely surprise!” Molly exclaimed when she saw me. “My word,” Molly’s eyes fell to Mitzi. “Is that you, Mitzi? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you it.”

“It is Mitzi.” The tiny elf beamed at Molly with a smile so wide that it took up most of her face. “Mitzi is very glad to see Molly.”

“And I’m very glad to see you,” Molly leant forward and took Mitzi into her arms, lifting her off the ground as she hugged her tightly. “Come on in Millie. Ron, and them should be coming downstairs in a bit since it’s nearing lunchtime and that boy literally senses when noon’s approaching. Always shows up at exactly twelve, don’t know how he does it, but his body is spot on when it comes to food. It should be spot on when it comes to his coursework . . .”

“I thought Ron was a prefect.”

“He is, but you know how Ron is, hasn’t changed since he was a boy and if you ask me, he never will. Always waits till the last minute to do his work and that’s never good. I’ve gotten notes from his potions master, granted that man is hard to please, but still! I shouldn’t have notes from Snape telling me that Ron turned something in late or half finished. I always tell Ron that he should do things before their do but no, Ron doesn’t hear a word I say when it comes to school.”

“That’s just how teenagers are.” I told her.

“I bet you’re not like that,” Molly set Mitzi down on the couch in the living room.

“That’s not a bet you should make.”

“Millie! You can’t tell me that you procrastinate like Ron. I can’t even imagine what Rose does.” Molly grew quiet before adding. “What does she say?”

“I can’t really answer that question.” I shuffled awkwardly. “I have a bad habit of tuning out when she goes on a rant. You probably shouldn’t tell her that I said that.”

“Don’t worry I won’t tell her.” Molly’s eyes widened at the sight of the tray. “What are you carrying?”

“Deserts that Mitzi made. They’re really good. I snuck a few when we were making them, but don’t worry there’s still a bunch left.”

“Thank you so much Mitzi. We’ve missed your deserts around here.”

“Mum?” called a voice in the distance. It was Ginny’s voice. “Who are you talking to?”

“Millie and Mitzi, dear,” hollered Molly.

“Millie and Mitzi?!” there was a mixture of excitement and shock in her voice. Ginny appeared in the doorway shortly after, a wide grin on her face as she stared from me to Mitzi and Mitzi to me.

Mitzi leapt from her place on the couch, sprinting towards Ginny whom leant forward and took the petite house else into her arms. Ginny held Mitzi tightly, surely remembering the days in which we had spent our time playing with Mitzi as if she were a baby instead of a grown elf.

“What’s all the screaming about?” asked Ron as he entered the living room accompanied by his entourage.

“Mitzi’s here!” Ginny still held Mitzi in her arms.

“Who’s Mitzi?” inquired Hermione.

“Me!” squeaked Mitzi, her eyes darting towards Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “She’s an elf.”

“Yeah,” Ron didn’t bother turning to Hermione. He simply stepped towards Ginny and caressed Mitzi’s head. “Hello Mitzi, been awhile.”

“It has Ron.”

“Wait . . . I'm confused.” Hermione tilted her head to the right. “You know her, Ron?”

“Mhm,” answered Ron.

“Then why aren’t you more passionate about S.P.E.W if you have a friend that’s an elf?!” hissed Hermione, her eyes narrowing in contempt.

“Because elves enjoy working for people . . . I mean, Mitzi’s been free for a long time and she’s still with Emi’s family. She likes working, elves love working for people and the only person that has a problem with that is you.”

“That’s not true!” argued Hermione.

“Yes, it is!”

Ron and Hermione lapsed into an argument which lasted well over five minutes. It was a ridiculous argument in which both parties flailed their arms in the air as they attempted to prove their points which no one could actually hear because they were talking to quickly. The argument ended when Molly demanded that they be quiet.

“Are they always like this?” I asked Harry.

“Afraid so,” he answered. “And this wasn’t a nasty argument. Usually, they go on for hours.”

“How do you live?” I joked.

“Not sure, I think I might be a saint to be able to put up with them.”

“Saint Potter does have a ring to it.” I placed the tray on the nearby coffee table.

“What’s in there?” Ron’s eyes snapped towards the tray.

“Deserts,” replied Mitzi.

“Really?” his mouth began to water.

Mitzi nodded. “Mitzi remembered that Ron loves deserts so Mitzi made Ron’s favorite.”

“All your favorites,” I lifted the top off the tray, allowing him to the assortment of pastries.

Ron, being Ron, grabbed a handful of pastries which he immediately stuffed into his mouth. He began to chewing them, making sounds that were fit for someone having sex, not someone that was eating, but that was how he ate and Mitzi’s smile grew wider as she watched him.

“MMMM,” moaned Ron loudly. His eyes closed as he placed his left hand on his stomach. “So good . . . they’re even better than I remember!”

“Mitzi is glad Ron likes them.”

Ron shook his head, “Like?! Not like, love.”

“Well don’t love them to much or else you’re going to have to shower again,” commented Hermione whom was disgusted by the way he ate.

“Fuck it, it’s not like he’s going to melt.” I burst into laughter, thinking that the others would join in.

“How’s that funny?” Hermione was clearly not amused.

“Haven’t you ever seen or read The Wizard of Oz?”

“Can’t say I have,” was Hermione’s response.

“Well in the book, The Wicked Witch of the West dies when Dorothy throws a bucket of water on her so I said it because we’re witches and wizards and we’re not going to melt if someone throws water on us so . . . yeah.” I explained rather awkwardly.

There was silence.

“ . . . So muggles thought they could kill us by throwing water on us?” Ron stopped eating.

“No, just that witch . . . you know what, forget it. That’s a joke for Americans not Brits. Lesson learned.” I clapped my hands together. “Where are the Twins?”

“At work, dear,” Molly removed the pillows from the couches, clearing space for us to sit. “They usually get here around eight or so but the day you came they didn’t open the shop so they could see you.”

“How sweet,” I sat on the couch beside Mitzi.

“They have their moments,” Molly smiled brightly. “Ron, stop eating the deserts, it’ll spoil your appetite.”

“But mum, I'm hungry now.” Ron whined

“You’re always hungry.” Molly placed great emphasis on always

“Not true,” argued Ron, his ears turning a bright shade of red.

“Why do you have to lie for? You know it’s true.”

They bickered back and forth until Molly shot Ron a glare which clearly told him that if he didn’t stop eating, he was going to be in serious trouble.

Within a quarter of an hour, Molly served lunch.

Mitzi had begged Molly to let her help, but Molly politely refused. Claiming that Mitzi ought to enjoy herself and not worry about cooking. Mitzi was slightly insulted. Alright, not slightly, she was really insulted by the fact that Molly hadn’t given her the honor of cooking with her but her mind was taken from that when Hermione struck up a conversation with her.

Lunch was quickly eaten and when we finished, we wandered out the back door. Mitzi had grown tired from all the walking she’d been doing, so I opened my large purse and she hopped inside, her small hands gripping onto the old leather bag that had once belonged to my mother. The walking ended when we reached the small pond in the back. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat on the bench while I kicked off my shoes and sat on the grass, enjoying the way that the blades of grass tickled my feet. Mitzi had fallen asleep.

“There’s room on the bench,” Hermione motioned to an empty seat beside her.

“She likes the grass,” Ron answered before I had a chance to. “She’s weird like that.”

“Not weird, just peculiar.” I stretched my toes. “Thanks for the offer though.”

At that moment a demonic frog leapt from its place in the pond. I quite literally felt my heart stop as it lunged towards me, staring at me with hungry eyes that said that it wanted to devour me and steal my soul. Alright, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit but that frog was nothing but pure evil and as I turned to move out of it’s way, Ron leapt from his seat. He stretched his hand out, grabbing the frog just as it was about to land on my chest and he threw it back into the pond.

“RON!” roared Hermione so loudly that I literally flinched.

“What?” Ron shot back, clearly not knowing why she was screaming.

“Why’d you hit that poor frog for? It’s not a bloody ball that you can just toss around!”

“It was going to hit Emi!” he declared, his chest swelling ever so slightly.

“And your point is?” Hermione shrieked.

“I sort of suffer from ranidaphobia.” I stared at my toes as I spoke. “So I have this ridiculous and very much irrational fear of frogs which is kind of worse than Ron’s since I have full out panic attacks when they touch me.”

Hermione sighed. “Let me get this straight. You have an intense fear of frogs and Ron has an intense fear of spiders. Did you guys put out an ad for a crazy friend when you were children?”

“No,” I said. “But thankfully crazies have a way of finding each other. Isn’t that right, Ronniekins?”

“Ugh,” groaned Ron. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Lost count awhile ago,” I shot him a cheeky smirk.

Ron fought back his smile. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat your hero. You’re supposed to be nice.”

“I am being nice. I'm evening calling you by your pet name.”

His smile broke onto his face. It was accompanied by an odd chortle that was in all honesty, hard on the ears but that was the laugh that rarely saw the light of day. And on that warm June day, it would be heard often.