Look After You

My remaining days at Hogwarts went by surprisingly fast. I'd expected them to drag, especially since Fred and George were gone. They'd once mentioned my lack of friends aside from the two of them and Lee Jordan; I'd been offended then, but, sitting alone in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione Granger's cat on my lap, I realized how true their statement was.

No worries, though. Only another day of being lonesome, then it was off to The Burrow and Quidditch in the orchard with Fred and George and maybe-kissing-George-for-real-this-time-because-I-still-hadn't-gotten-the-courage-to-do-it-yet.

Truth be told, I'd only had one opportunity to act on said impulse while we were at school. George and I had been standing together near the common room bulletin board the night before Christmas Holiday when Fred pointed out a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling just above us. (Clever placement, really, if you think about it. More often than not, there are multiple people of mixed gender gathered together to read the brightly colored fliers posted there. Applause for the house elf responsible). George and I had both chortled awkwardly and taken a few steps away from each other, careful to maintain a certain distance for the rest of the evening. Hermione – who I have no true bond with, to be honest – gave me a knowing look and raised her eyebrows at the situation. I was oddly tempted to throttle her, but she'd always been kind to me in the past and I couldn’t bring myself to be violent in light of the holiday season.

The opportunity had slipped by and no others had come since. (The opportunity to kiss George, that is, not the one to strangle Hermione).

Strange, I could picture myself kissing George, but I couldn't picture any sort of emotional attachment to go along with it. Of course, he and Fred were my best friends, so emotional attachment was sort of a given. Anything other than that, though, seemed impossible. Improbable, too. George treated me with the same amount of affectionate consideration that he did Fred: little to none. Sentimental moments stood at a whopping total of zero. George and I were nothing aside from comrades, and that seemed to be the extent of our relationship, end of story.

I missed him, though. Fred, too. Hogwarts was quieter without them, for certain-sure.

It was well past midnight, I figured. Crookshanks stood and wandered off, disappearing into the shadows on the other side of the room. My fellow Gryffindors had long since gone to bed, leaving me alone in the common room. The place was a mess, probably due to the incessant packing going on. I hardly ever saw someone without an armful of freshly laundered robes or old parchment. Newspapers, too, were in abundance. Quite a few people used them to cushion items in their trunks. I stared down at a discarded Daily Prophet on the low lying table in front of me, reading the headlines with tired eyes.

Everyone knew what had happened a few days prior at the Ministry of Magic. Harry Potter had gotten into a spat with some Death Eaters and Dumbledore had fought Voldemort hand-to-hand. Another man died, though, before it was all over. Harry's godfather, no less. The one person Harry'd had left was gone now, too. I felt such extensive pity for him, but I would never mention it. He wouldn't appreciate it.

The good news, though, had been Fudge's acknowledgement that Voldemort had returned. People panicked, sure, but at least they weren't in the dark.

More good news: Umbridge was gone. The incident at the ministry had happened the night that Fred and George left, so I never had to serve my detention. Dumbledore came back to set things right, and no one really knew what had happened to old Toad Face. No one really cared, so long as she wasn't coming back.

I tossed the Daily Prophet aside and glanced at my watch. It was nearly two in the morning. It was my last night in Hogwarts. I wasn't sad, but I wasn’t thrilled to be leaving either. The past seven years had been nothing short of unexpected, no matter which way I looked at it. I never expected to practice magic, I never expected to befriend two trouble-makers of the highest caliber, and I certainly never expected look back on it all with a profound sense of nostalgia. I would miss the castle and nearly everything that went with it. I shook the sentimental feeling before it could take root and stood to head upstairs to my bed.

I slept soundly - which was odd for me - and woke early. I didn’t bother to comb my hair and left it hanging lank as I pulled on my last clean wool skirt and the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for me this past Christmas. My footsteps echoed off the stairs as I descended into the common room and made my way out to the corridor, quite intent on a stroll about the grounds. Everything was empty, and I preferred it that way. No one approached to ask me questions about Fred and George's fireworks or whether or not I had done well on my N.E.W.T.s. Even the Great Hall was empty when I wandered through the doors to look for some toast.

There was a stack on the Gryffindor table that was hot enough, and I took a few pieces before turning around to leave again. The huge clock in the Entrance Hall told me that it was only six-thirty. The sky outside was a dull, pearly grey, and the grass was still wet with morning dew as I strolled across, watching the surface of the lake like it wasn't really real. The stillness was comforting, but I felt sort of detached. Almost like, in a way, I didn’t really belong there anymore, like Hogwarts had let me do my growing up inside its walls and now that I was old enough to leave, it had severed ties and was standing back to watch me go. Like a parent, I supposed, though I didn’t really know. I figured it was the way today was meant to feel, and then sat on a large boulder on the shore of the lake to eat my toast.

Nothing moved for a while, but then things got brighter and people started wandering out onto the grounds, carrying breakfast with them like I'd done. I recognized a few people from my year but didn't talk to anyone when I made my way back up to the castle. Collin Creevey waved to me from the top of the Entrance Hall stairs, and I smiled politely when he lifted his camera. The flash left blue spots in my vision, and I blinked incessantly until I got to the portrait hole, trying to clear them. The Fat Lady gave me an odd look.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" she asked.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," I said, blinking a few more times, "And Collin Creevey took my picture. I have blue spots in my vision from the flash." She nodded sympathetically, though I was pretty sure she had no idea what I was talking about.

"You're leaving today," She said sullenly, a kind expression on her face, "It will be strange not to see you and those two boys around."

"I know. Maybe I'll come back to visit." I said, knowing full well that I probably never would.

"Maybe." She replied, swinging forward in a way that told me she, too, knew I never would. I climbed through the portrait hole and in to the common room.

There were several people inside, some of whom were in my year. Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson were standing together in a corner, clutching their Quidditch robes and sobbing with abandon. I kept my eyes averted as I walked past, making my way to the girls' dorms to double check my packing. Someone grabbed the arm of my sweater as I did so.

"Wait, Lacey," Angelina Johnson sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, "You'll be seeing Fred and George this summer, then?" Alicia and Katie looked on with tears pouring down their cheeks. I wondered why Katie was so emotional. She had another year at Hogwarts.

I was tempted to tell them off and say something along the lines of 'Whats-the-matter-with-you-where-is-your-dignity-I-thought-you-were-tough' but I replied instead with, "Sure, I expect so." because the alternate would have been very unkind.

"Right, well, do you think you could say good-bye to them for us?" Angelina said.

"Of course, Angelina." I smiled weakly and she let go of my arm. I continued on toward the stairs, taking them at a slow pace because, believe it or not, I was sort of starting to feel sad that I wouldn’t be coming back again.

My trunk was at the foot of my bed, completely overstuffed and latched closed, Herald's cage resting firmly on its lid. My bedding was rolled up and my personal effects were gone from the night stand. It didn't feel like home anymore without the stacks of books or pieces of parchment lying about, and that made me feel a bit better. I took one last glace around, took Herald's cage in my arms and made my way to the stairs again, figuring it would be better not to prolong the heart-wrenching inevitable.

The common room had emptied some in the few minutes I had been absent from it. Glancing at my watch, I realized that it was nearly nine-thirty already, and that most people would have been making their way to Hogwarts Station where the train was surely waiting. I didn't look around as I left. While I loved it, it wasn't mine anymore. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung closed behind me.

Lee Jordan was leaning against the banister of the marble staircase that led down to the Great Hall, and he joined me as I passed.

"Weird, isn't it?" he said, turning his head to gaze up at the castle as we strolled through the court yard, "Weird that we're not coming back?"

"Yeah," I said, moving the owl cage from one side of my body to the other, "But I feel okay. Almost like, just this morning, I was ready to leave."

"Like you grew up over night?" I nodded and he continued, "I sort of feel the same way."

We didn’t say anything more until we had boarded the train, and even after that it was only to decide which compartment to claim. Regardless of our feelings of having grown up enough to leave without heartbreak, melancholy had definitely descended over the two of us. I stared out the window and watched the very tip of the Astronomy Tower until it completely disappeared behind a line of trees.



The train arrived at King's Cross a few hours later and with much to-do about seeing each other over the summer and sending owls whenever possible, Lee and I said our goodbyes. He took hold of the handle on his trunk and disapparated in a whirl of dreadlocks and brilliantly white teeth. I hauled my trunk out of the luggage compartment and secured Herald to one of the handles.

I was passing through the barrier and searching for my wand so that I could have it in my hand while I disapparated to the Burrow (because I was always afraid it would fly out of my pocket mid-travel and be lost forever in the time-space continuum, or something), when there was a loud, very distinct pop a few feet to my left. I glanced up, surprised that someone would actually apparate into the station today of all days, and found myself face-to-face with Fred Weasley. I nearly threw myself at him, then decided against it and crossed my arms instead.

"Are you aware," I said, "That I was doused with Veritaserum and given detention because of your fireworks?"

"Are you aware," He laughed, "That you never had to serve said detention because Umbridge was sacked the same day we left?"

"Beside the point." I huffed.

"Good to see you, too. And they weren't only my fireworks. They were George's, too."

"Sure, sure. Why are you here? I can apparate perfectly well on my own, thank you."

"I know that, but you'd've been going to the wrong place, you twit," He put his hand on my shoulder and grinned, "George and I don't live at the Burrow anymore."

"What? Since when?" I glared at him skeptically.

"Since one of the reasons we left Hogwarts was to enquire after an empty shop in Diagon Alley."

I pieced together the information and grinned as well, "You've finally got your shop!"

"Indeed. Take my arm and I'd be happy to show you." He made a grand bow, then held out his elbow.

I looped my arm through his, checked the clasps of my luggage and we disapparated. There was a moment of crushing pressure, then everything was normal again. We were standing in the middle of a cobbled avenue, surrounded by witches and wizards in all manors of magical dress. I stared around for a moment, the more reserved, non-magic part of my brain temporarily boggled by the bright colors and stimulating sounds of Diagon Alley. Down the street was Forlean Fortescue's, and directly across was Ollivander's. It was all a most-welcome assault on the senses. Fred made an impatient noise and spun me around.

"You're looking at the wrong side of the street," He said, pointing at an empty storefront, completely plastered with leaflets that read "Number ninety-three, Diagon Alley: Future Home of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes". George stood in the front window, his back to the street, waving his wand erratically.

"It's brilliant, of course." I said, nodding.

"Innit, though?" Fred towed me forward, out of the street and onto the sidewalk, "I'll warn you now, we did paper-scissors-stones to see which of us could take a break from painting the shop to come and get you from the station. George's a bit sore that he lost, and he was sort of, well, whipping the paint around when I left. He hasn't really got the knack of it, yet."

I nodded again, and Fred pulled the shop door open. George was, in fact, waving his wand madly, spewing a horrid magenta color from its tip. A tiny bell sounded when the door closed behind us, and he turned, a scowl on his paint-splattered face.

"Bugger painting. It's awful. Hello, Lacey." His words came out in a jumbled mess and his face turned a shade of mottled red.

"You know," I said, dropping my trunk beside the door, "I'd be willing to bet that this would look loads better if you would invest in some muggle paint brushes. It would take longer, but you wouldn’t have as much of this problem." I pointed at a large glob of paint dripping from the ceiling. The Twins looked at me skeptically, then grinned.

"Alright, then." Fred said, stowing his wand in his pocket.

"We've been at this bloody job since yesterday morning, and we keep having to take the paint off the wall because it looks a ruddy mess," George approached and threw his arm around my shoulders, "And, honestly, I'm about ready to try anything."

"Right then," I said, pushing the sleeves of my sweater up past my elbows, "Let's get to it."