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Chapter Text

“Bulstrode,” Weasley junior cornered her as she was trying to get to the library. She’d had a shitty day, followed by a shitty talk with her Head of House, who reminded her not to be so prominent, as if she had any blasted choice in the matter. Something he seemed to acknowledge. Not that he offered any bloody solution.

“Fuck off Weasley,” she tried to push past him, but he didn’t move. He wobbled but didn’t move.

“Need to talk.”

“And?” She was tired, the Inquisitorial bollocks had her assignments going missing any time she didn’t have her bag on her. She was supposed to be patrolling the upper floors in an hour, and someone had ripped up her Transfiguration parchment, stealing bits so she couldn’t even repair it. McGonagall knocked grades off for ink splots on Millicent’s work, even when she’d seen someone else do it. She couldn’t afford not to turn in a spotless intact copy.

He looked mulish. “What? What do you need to talk about?” Millicent hefted her bag up onto her shoulder. All of the days books were living in it, the expanding charm at its limits, but she couldn’t risk it any more. It was alright for the others. They were purebloods, which meant they had clout. Millicent had herself, and that was about it. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop with Umbridge when she got her hands on Millicent’s bloodline and then Millicent's life would be over.

“You need to make Umbridge go easy on Harry.”

“I’ll just go tell her shall I,” Millicent laughed in his face. “Sorry High Inquisitor Umbridge, I’ve been asked to tell you to stop being mean to Potter.”

He glared at her. “You’re Slytherin, you could word it better.”

“Sorry, of course I can, because I have the gift of the fucking gab. Go talk to your precious Head of House if you’ve got a problem, I need to get to the library before she destroys any chance of me passing my OWL’s.” Millicent had enough and stepped around him, glaring at him as he grabbed her arm.

“You owe him,” Weasley snarled.

“Fuck off. I don’t owe any of you fuckers anything,” she yanked her arm away, she considered grabbing her wand, but she’d just promised Snape she’d be low-key. Hexing Weasley wasn’t exactly that.

“What do you want?” He spat.

“Right now, I just want to go to the library,” Millicent started to leave, only for him to race after her, blocking her exit. “You’ve got your answer, leave me alone.”

“You’re a halfblood too, can’t you see it’s wrong what she’s doing?”

She stared at him. “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream bloody murder.”

“You’re the only one who can help, Dumbledore’s gone, McGonagall’s not listening to us, Harry won’t say anything to anyone but he’s got scars.”

“So?” Millicent stared at him. “Talk to the other teachers. Write to your mother, she’ll soon raise hell.”

“We’ll owe you, I’ll owe you.”

Millicent couldn’t believe what he was offering. “Do you have any fucking clue what you’re doing?”

“That’s what your kind wants right? Favours.”

“My kind?” Millicent couldn’t believe her ears.

“You know what I mean,” he glared at her as if she’d approached him.

“Right. No, you can fuck off back to the hole you crawled out of and leave me the fuck alone,” Millicent pulled her wand out and pointed it at him. “I’m going to the library, don’t follow me.”

Madam Pince tutted as she entered, Millicent might have pushed the door open with more force than necessary. A mumbled apology, before disappearing off between the stacks. The History section was usually deserted, and her usual perch, hidden from anyone except in the Goblin War aisle, was free. She’d brushed dust off the first time she’d found it, and other than the occasional bit of gum found stuck to the bottom of the desk, it barely seemed to get any use.

The essay had been good, she knew her stuff, she spent most of her free time studying, but she couldn’t rely on it not being copied. Still, it was a good base for a new one. A quick check of the time confirmed she had at least another half hour before she had to paste on her bully demeanour, and she wrote as quickly as possible. It was easy enough to follow fresh ideas through, enough that she couldn’t be accused of copying her own work at any rate. Her alarm vibrated softly as she ran out of time, six inches too short. She’d need to find a quiet corner on the top corridor to finish it off.

Umbridge had Potter in her office, looking pale and wan, as Millicent entered to announce herself ready for duty. Even knowing where she was supposed to be, everything had to run through the Ministry bint.

“High Inquisitor,” Millicent greeted politely. The others all got partners, but as the odd one out, it was Millicent alone.

“Miss Bulstrode,” She barely spared her a look, intently watching Potter like he was some kind of experiment.

She wasn’t sure why she said it, she didn’t owe him or Weasley anything, but still, the words came blurting out. “I overheard Weasley say his parents were writing to the Minister.” Potter flinched, and Umbridge scowled. “I thought it might be useful, High Inquisitor.”

“Why would you think that?” Umbridge hem hemmed at her, and Millicent looked forward, not meeting her gaze, her eyes skimming Umbridge’s chin, Millicent’s neck slightly tilted. It shouldn’t work, but it did.

“The Weasley’s support Dumbledore, they’re always going on about it,” Millicent said as plainly as she dared. Too soft, and she would appear too weak, too strong she’d be a threat, toeing the line something she’d spent the last five years working on. Slytherin took no prisoners.

“Escort Mr Potter back to his dorm,” Umbridge ordered imperiously after a tense few minutes as she clearly thought.

“Yes High Inquisitor,” Millicent meekly replied. Potter scrambled to get his stuff together, shuffling past Umbridge as she started to pace.

“Four hours of patrolling the corridors,” Umbridge said spitefully. It’d only been two, and it was already after eight, at this rate, she’d be lucky to get any sleep.

“Yes High Inquisitor,” Millicent did her best to look pleased about it, she’d need to send a note down to her Head of House before he came looking. She wasn’t supposed to be out after 10, not being a Prefect. Fucking brilliant. Umbridge wouldn’t give her a pass either.

Potter practically ran out of the door, Millicent making sure it closed with a soft click, keeping quiet until they were well away from Umbridge’s office.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Don’t mention it,” Millicent muttered. “Tell Weasley he needs to write to his parents. All of them do.”

Potter kept rubbing at his hand, twitching when her bag swung too close to him as she dodged the occasional student loitering in the hallway. She ignored it. She was not getting involved. She’d already done too much already, and had four hours to pay for it.

“This is me,” he said like an idiot as she walked him up to the Fat Lady.

“I’ll be on the seventh floor in an hour,” she muttered under her breath, ignoring as he flinched, leaving before he could try and talk to her. Fucking lions.

She stomped her way up to the top floor, ignoring everything until she reached the end of the corridor. As long as she kept moving, and hit every floor assigned, no one would bother her. Malfoy had been the one to test what would happen if he just skived off, and anyone but Malfoy would’ve paid the price. Instead, there’d been a very pointed chat, with what Millicent could only describe as Snape using Lord Malfoy to save Malfoy’s scrawny hide.

Umbridge used some sort of Ministry spell, that tracked workers as far as they could work out. She also hemhemed more if they didn’t have anything to report. Millicent only hoped that she wouldn’t need to double the amount of infractions spotted. She’d already skirted the line by reporting students as blonde Ravenclaw who refused to give name, or tall Hufflepuff boy who’d spat but left before Millicent could see who it was.

With a quick shake of her wand, she had a functional clipboard, another to keep it steady, and she was able to continue her essay, making sure she made as much noise stomping, to alert anyone that someone was coming. It was the best she could do.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Millicent noted as to deaf students almost walked into her. “And another five for being out after curfew.”

“Scab.” Charming. And wrong, she’d not crossed any party lines. Also, they hadn’t argued about the time, if they left now the idiots would have time to get back to their dorms and complain about being docked inappropriately. Instead, they didn’t even question it. Amateurs.

“Ten for insulting a member of the Inquisition,” Millicent sounded bored, not even looking up to see who it was. A quick shield protected her parchment from being spat on. “Please, add to the list of infractions.”

They scarpered as she made a move to pull her wand out. Like she was going to summon Umbridge, Millicent would get in more trouble for disturbing her protected personal time. Still, forty-five points gone, and three infractions. Another couple of students and she could ignore everything else. McGonnagal would go ballistic, if Millicent didn’t have the pleasure of bumping into her later on.

Two more inches to go, no more no less, no need to give the Transfiguration Professor fuel to knock points off. A quick skim over to make sure she wasn’t going to contradict her conclusion, especially as now her original essay conclusion no longer applied. Throw in a couple of references to an obscure book Millicent came across while trying to write the essay in the first place, the usual books taken out already. One more once over, and she finished. She was half tempted to put it in the deputy's pigeon hole, but short of handing it to her, she couldn’t trust it wouldn’t go missing. Snape wouldn’t come out to bat for Millicent, not at the moment.

Mrs Norris came winding around her legs, causing her to come to a stop. She greeted her with a soft, “Mrs Norris,” ducking down to offer her fingers to scritch against. She could afford a few moments to stop. If nothing else both Filch and Umbridge liked cats. Well, she said she liked cats when Filch was in earshot.

Mrs Norris jumped up onto her shoulder, tail fluffed tickling Millicent’s ear. Millicent’s own cat, Oliviette the Seventh, was not a fan of Mrs Norris, and she was fairly certain Mrs Norris was aware of this fact and seemed to delight in covering Millicent in as much hair and scent as she could.

Still, it was company, and she quite liked the loud thrum of purring in her ear as she finished off the essay, making sure to dry and cover it in as many protective charms as possible before sliding it into her bag. Flitwick’s came out next, his a mere ten inches and not due until the following afternoon. Another casualty of Millicent not storing her bag as carefully as she’d thought in the morning.

He, at least, didn’t accuse her of plagiarism. She’d spoken to him back in second year, after the tackling incident with Granger, where in the privacy of the common rooms, she’d been lambasted for crass behaviour. Now she would include code words or phrases, something he seemed to enjoy. Not enough to penalise cheaters, but enough that she didn’t need to come up with brand new essays like the tabby did.

His essay had been covered in yellow liquid, something she had no desire to examine further. Some of the words were washed away, and it was ripped in places from where the parchment had gotten a little too damp.

She talked all the way down to the Seventh level, nonsense, but still talked to Mrs Noris. There were times she would recite poetry, ridiculous poetry, she was currently working her way through Lewis Carroll’s poems, the cadence fitting with her stride, and in times like these, gave her some comfort. She couldn’t afford to keep her head down on this corridor. Sixth was fine, but Seventh was where Potter’s friends pretended to be subtle.

““If seven maids with seven mops,
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose” the Walrus said
That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.”

There were times when even the ridiculousness of Carroll spoke to her. This place's scars would linger far longer than half a year when she finally left. She paused, reaching up to scritch Mrs Norris on the head, biting back the urge to burst into tears. She paused, exhaled, and carried on with the Oysters joining to walk to their doom. Mrs Norris didn’t seem to mind as Millicent paused with the poem until she’d cleared the Room of Requirement. It was in use. If she had a death wish she could prove it.

The sixth floor had a second year risking not making it back for curfew, so she docked another ten points, ignoring the not discrete finger. A third year with a yo-yo, she’d considered confiscating it. She hadn’t dared bring hers, Slytherin’s didn’t play games, or not ones that didn’t involve emotional torture. Millicent considered borrowing it to show them how to do Revolutions, or even just an Around the World, they seemed to be struggling just to get it to return to them.

“Five points for being shit,” Millicent restrained herself, even as the Third year challenged her to do better. “If I catch you with it again being so shit, I’ll confiscate it as a health hazard.”

“You don’t even know what to do,” the third year might be shit, but she had to admire the balls. She took a quick glance around, no one would believe them anyway and held her hand out.

“Give it to me then,” she hissed, Mrs Norris, jumping down to wander off, giving Millicent about ten minutes before Filch might appear.

They practically threw it at her, clearly not believing Millicent had a clue. Five minutes later showing off all the badass tricks she’d spent years being grounded learning, the third year was practically begging her to show her how. “No, now fuck off and get better.”

“Not going to tell me not to say anything?” Snarky little bastard.

“Only if you want to end up in the hospital ward,” Millicent smirked as they paled. She meant more from being thought insane than Millicent pounding them into the dirt. “You need to get better with the wrist.” She wasn’t a complete bitch, and showed them slowly, before moving on.

“Thanks!”

Millicent wasn’t sure how she was going to write that up in her report, five points for scuffing feet on the floor, probably. She quite liked that one, it was another that Filch liked even if Umbridge thought it useless for berating students. And Millicent had failed to even notice the tie of the third year, so she’d peg them down as a Ravenclaw. She’d not busted any Ravenclaw’s so far.

By the time she reached the Fifth and final floor, she’d finished Flitwick’s essay, and had started on the work of fiction called the Inquisitorial Squad Official Report of Infractions. She’d make sure to cross out spellings of “complicated words” and use shorter ones that were spelled right. It wasn’t like Umbridge bothered to check her work against that for her other Professors.

She was about one infractee down from where she’d like to be finishing up, but everyone should be in the dorms, barring the Staff. She hoped that her Weasley comment would balance her books with Umbridge but it was no guarantee.

Chapter Text

Sleeping came easy, Millicent shared with a Muggleborn for the first four years. Apparently, Audrey’s parents hadn’t appreciated their daughter being taught in a school where death lurked around the corner every bloody year and had withdrawn her. Especially as Audrey’s older sister had graduated at the end of their second year, Millicent wasn’t enough of a bodyguard for them.

Audrey had to beg to be allowed back after they’d allowed a Werewolf to teach them. She told Millicent she’d forgotten to mention the convict on the run bit or the soul-sucking dementors. Hazel, her big sister was at university and either hadn’t heard or had the good sense not to mention it. Fourth year though, in a letter she’d managed to send to Millicent in the summer, Diggory’s death came as the final straw. Audrey’s parents, under the guidance of Hazel, were sending Audrey to Beauxbaxtons as they hadn’t lost a student or staff member to incidents in decades. Even if Audrey did have to learn French beyond asking where the library was. According to Audrey, it was learning French or being home-schooled, and she was not ready to live with her parents full-time.

Millicent had seen it in the eyes of some of her schoolmates, the envy at not having to return. Of having parents who cared enough not to put their children at risk. Another reason Millicent was in the shit with her year, not that Millicent’s Gran was any different. Millicent was still there.

Snape hadn’t bowed down to Parkinson’s demand to switch rooms with Millicent so Parkinson could have her own personal bathroom. Probably because she’d demanded it, and then tried to threaten him. Not even Malfoy tried to threaten Snape, and he threatened everyone.

Her room was the only safe space in the castle. Each room would only admit its occupants unless invited. Sufficed to say Audrey hadn’t felt the urge to invite any of the other Slytherin girls in, and neither had Millicent. She refused to bend on this, the only thing she had stood firm on. It’d been their safe space. Where they would rant and scream and laugh themselves silly about the absurdities of the so-called wizarding world. The place where they’d become blood sisters after Audrey felt lost when her sister graduated. The place where they’d practised dancing in the forlorn hope either would be invited to the Yule Ball.

There had been no colour-changing body wash, no hair-removing shampoo, no glass in a scrub in their bathroom. All things that were on the banned list, and yet every year she’d been there, some poor sod fell foul of those kind of tricks. She made a mental note to call Audrey when she was back at Gran’s for Christmas. She didn’t have the funds to send a letter to France, not more than a couple of times and Audrey really liked to talk.

Umbridge wasn’t in her office as Millicent called round on her way to breakfast, and did not approve of reports being pushed under the door, or left in her pigeonhole. Which meant Millicent would have to take more time out to track the woman down later. Time she wanted to spend in the study getting ahead with her other assignments. The joys of being one of the most hated people in the school.

Breakfast was scarfed down, so she could get to class early enough to get the optimal seat. Close enough to the front she was seen, on the outskirts enough she could protect herself and work from being helped by her classmates, and still appear intimidating as other students would be forced to sit next to her. Also, the window made for good viewing when it all got a bit too dull. Usually when it devolved into petty fighting and shouting.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Professor Babbling greeted her with a wary glance. Umbridge was on the warpath, and so far Dumbledore was keeping her near in check, but the writing was getting very near the wall, and if lighter heads didn’t do anything she’d have him ousted. That they thought Millicent had any sway in it was ridiculous, but then almost everything about the school was.

She grunted. It was about the level expected of her. That she turned in work on time, and it just scraped an O each time, meant nothing. She probably thought Millicent bullied someone into doing it for her.

The class ran, as it did, with Umbridge appearing in the doorway to upset the Professor into spilling her ink all over the floor, and Umbridge making noises. Leaving, and everyone glaring at Millicent, as the only one stupid enough to take Ancient Runes from the Squad.

She managed to leave without incident, dodging a foot that shot out as she pushed past. Care of Magical Creatures, she could fade into the background. Everyone seemed to take it, and standing in the vicinity of Hagrid, she seemed normal-sized.

Transfigurations had the old bag pursing her lips as Millicent handed in her pristine parchment the moment she entered the room so she couldn’t be accused of doing it in class. It also meant she couldn’t say she hadn’t handed it in. Not that the Lion’s Head of House tried that one, but the way things were going, she wouldn’t put it past her. She got called upon three times to answer questions, not given points for any of them.

Millicent just about had enough time to get to Umbridge’s office to catch her, handing over the report to a disappointed face. Of course, Millicent should have waited instead of eating breakfast, Umbridge hadn’t been able to produce the report when the Head’s had queried Millicent’s points taking. Which was obviously Millicent’s fault. And it was noted she was several infractions down.

“I’ll try to be quieter on my feet, High Inquisitor,” Millicent apologised, making sure to clomp out of the office, waiting until she headed out of the corridor before releasing the hiss she’d been building.

“Mopsy, I’ll take a sandwich to eat in my room,” Millicent called upon the Inquisitorial Squad’s appointed house elf. The only perk Millicent had found so far.

It definitely wasn’t the look she’d gotten from her Head of House from the high table. She’d forgotten to send a note down to excuse her absence. It wasn’t the outright hatred from everyone who hadn’t known she existed until she’d been forced to join the Squad. And it really wasn’t the missing sleep.

“Potions Master Snape is telling Mopsy students isn’t allowed to eat in rooms anymore,” Mopsy squeaked at her. Fucking hell.

“How about the fourth-floor study room?” That no one used anymore after an unfortunate incident with a rope, indoor broom racing, and a ban on flying in the school. Long before most of the Professors had been students, although you couldn’t tell with Binns.

“Potions Master Snape isn’t telling Mopsy no,” Mopsy squeaked.

“I’ll take a sandwich in there then,” Millicent instructed.

“Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t like students not to eat in hall,” Mopsy wrung her hands.

“Doesn’t like, or it’s a rule?” Millicent asked.

“Doesn’t like,” Mopsy squeaked.

“I’ll be taking my sandwich in the fourth-floor study room,” Millicent instructed, having had enough of everyone and everything.

It wasn’t even a surprise to see Weasley lurking outside the study room as she left. “Don’t want to hear it. Fuck off.”

“I owe you,” he chased after her.

“Didn’t do anything,” Millicent hissed at him. “So fuck off back to the other cowardly lions and leave me the fuck alone.”

His face was all screwed up like she was making him be there. The faint chime of the start of the afternoon rang, and she walked as fast as she could without looking like she was jogging. A quick brush of her sleeve over her face, and she slipped into Flitwick’s class before more than a couple of people sat down.

He never called on her in class. Not once, and she was grateful. She could keep her head down, ignoring the stupid comments from her Slytherin cohort, and the angry hissing at said comments from the other houses. Instead, she got on with her work, making sure to not master it as quickly as some of the others. There was a ranking system after all, of which housemate was the most intelligent. Millicent ranked in the bottom half. She couldn’t wait to fucking leave and join the real world.

The cup crumpled under her hand, and she shoved it into her bag, stealing the Hufflepuff’s next to her with an angry glare and a tap on her stupid badge. It shouldn’t have worked, but it clearly did as they just asked for a new one, not dobbing her in for stealing.

Millicent had no respect for any of them. How hard would it be to say “Oi Sir, Bulstrode stole my cup”, they’d have plenty of witnesses even if no one else saw it. She wouldn’t even deny it. What was the worst that could happen?

She made sure to hand her assignment to Flitwick on the way out, tapping three times, to make sure he understood she’d used the third set of ciphers this time. It was the only thing that kept her sane at times. He nodded slightly, and she felt a little bit like a spy. Enough to send her off with an almost smile, heading straight to the library, ignoring Weasley lurking by the door.

Pince glared at her like she’d brought in a bad smell, and her usual table was occupied by sixth years snogging. “Fuck off.” It took more than that to get them to shift, and she was fairly sure they’d not forget it, but it was her table, her spot, and she was going to defend it.

Three of the more obscure Rune books, only one of the more popular ones left, and she started. The subject of Runes was more interesting than the lessons. She liked how they made sense. Once she’d understood the basics, building upon them came fairly easy. It was pattern matching, a bit of language interpretation, something she wasn’t bad at, and work. Regardless of what everyone else thought, Millicent could work.

She managed to get a rough and dirty quick draft down, capturing the key points and putting enough obscure shit in that it wouldn’t look like everyone else's, before starting her first draft proper. This was where she’d really hammer the information into her brain, where she’d learn how to sketch out the differing runes with repetition, fleshing out the bullet points to the point where she just needed to narrow it down so it fit the inches exactly.

There was a week before it needed turning in, and she wouldn’t bother turning it in early, but it was good to get it done. She had no patrol to do, her other work was up to date, and it meant she could slip in at the tail end of the evening meal when everyone else had fucked off and she could eat in peace.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Weasley hanging at the golden house’s table, Potter prodding at the mess of beef and kidney pudding as if it were toxic. He needed the stodge, skinny little prick. Granger was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant she was nose-deep in all of the reference books and wouldn’t be returning them until the day of assignment hand-ins, in case she’d missed something she could copy verbatim.

A lowly first-year coughed further down the table. She shot him a look, promising death.

“Can you pass the bread please?” He squeaked worse than Mopsy.

“Get it yourself,” she glared, she was trying to eat. There was another ten minutes before it disappeared off into the kitchens, and she’d missed most of breakfast titting about for Umbridge.

She threw him a roll when he started to cry silent tears. Firsties, fucking wusses. She glared even harder when he tried to thank her.

She managed to get a few bites of the sticky toffee before it whisked off back to the kitchen, groans from latecomers who’d be forced to request the remaining staff for special accommodations. Or starve. Sprout was the Head on late meal duty, they’d be fine.

Trying to slip out the side door unseen went about as great as the rest of her day had gone.

“Bulstrode!” Weasley didn’t know when to give it up. Potter had a death wish too, as she span, hand ready to draw her wand, prepared to murder the pair of them. She’d probably get a slap on the wrist if the war headed the way she feared it was.

“Stalking now? Fifty points from Gryffindor.” She enjoyed the look of rage on Weasley’s face and resignation on Potters. Like it would hold up. They didn’t seem to understand that most of the points were revoked within a day, regardless of what Umbridge did. No doubt Potter would pick up some rubbish and get thirty points for being clean. Or Weasley would cover his mouth when coughing, and it’d be disease protection.

“Leave me alone,” she said almost pleasantly. That had felt good. She could almost understand why Snape liked to do it. A little dopamine rush, when done to people who really pissed her off. Even if she did have to fill in another stupid form, this time it would have to be a true work of fiction, she really didn’t want to have to explain why they, or really, Weasley, was stalking her.

“We owe you,” Weasley snarled. “What do you want?”

“You were dropped on your head as a baby, right?” Millicent couldn’t believe it. “Has to be the only explanation. You need looking after, like a full-on carer. Or is that Potter? Let me spell it out for you in words you won’t understand. I did nothing. Leave me alone. I will scream if you don’t.”

“Ron,” Potter put his skinny, pale arm across Weasley’s body as if he had the strength to hold his friend back.

“Follow me again, and I’ll kill you,” Millicent waggled her hand at them. Neither of them believed her, she could tell from the snort from the stupidest Weasley. Well too bad. She’d need to do something if he kept it up, it was going to cause her more trouble than it was worth.

The next few days off from unpaid labour, had her getting ahead with everything, and spending all of her free time either in the library or her room. She ate on the fly, backtracking even if she spotted a flash of red hair. She didn’t know how he was doing it, but every time she went down some obscure corridor, he appeared.

“Oi Weasley tits,” Millicent had enough and was calling in the big guns. The twins had taken over the far end of a dusty hallway for foul reasons she didn’t want to question.

They were leaning against the wall, tossing what she knew was some dangerously foul bomb, casually, watching her like Oliviette the Seventh watched the fourth year's pet rat.

“What does a snake want with us?”

“Tell your brother stalking isn’t big, and it's certainly not clever,” she squared up to them. She caught the flash of confusion on the furthest twin’s face.

“And if he doesn’t stop, I’ll do one better than murder him, I’ll write to your mum and tell her all about him following me like a bad smell and trying to corner me in dark hallways all by myself. And I’ll take a potion to prove it,” she hissed.

“Why would he want to stalk you?” The closest one slunk closer, and she stood tall she had inches in all ways on him.

“He was dropped on his head as a baby no doubt,” Millicent sneered. “Tell him to fuck right off, and if he doesn’t I’ll make sure his life is a living hell.”

“Tell her, I dare you,” Stalker Weasley blocked her exit from the Fourth Floor Study Room, she’d thought after a couple of days not seeing him, that the twins had knocked some sense into him. Clearly not.

She was about ready to tear her hair out, and she was due to patrol again, this time Umbridge was kind enough to only assign three hours. Leaving her only an hour past her curfew, though Millicent had managed to inform her Head of House in potions, much to his dislike.

She was dreading their next supervisory meeting. So far she’d managed to only call more attention to herself, thanks to Weasley.

“Did you write to your parents?” She gave in.

“Yeah,” he looked sulky.

“Debt fulfilled.” Millicent pushed past him.

“It’s not though,” Weasley moved to stand in front of her again, his time on the Quidditch team building muscle. She could still force him, he’d have another few inches to top her, and stack on a lot more muscle.

She grabbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed, hoping he’d just disappear. “What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell me what you want.” He stuck a hand across her path as if she couldn’t duck underneath it.

“I don’t want anything you fucking pigheaded idiot. No, sorry, I do want something, I would like you to leave me the fuck alone. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, don’t follow me, pretend I don’t even fucking exist. That’s what you can do for me,” Millicent turned and started to walk the other way, she’d go the long way round. Anything to get away from him.

“It’s not good enough, you can feel it too,” Weasley shouted after her.

“Feel what?” Millicent got pulled into his ridiculous bullshit.

“The debt.”

“THERE IS NO DEBT!” Millicent screeched at him. He just stared at her, face like a bull chewing on a wasp. “I acknowledged no debt, I don’t want any debt, there is no debt, it’s all in your fucking head you fucking twat. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Thirty points for foul language,” McGonagall appeared as if by magic as Millicent tried to leave.

“Fine.”

“Another ten for back talking,” the old bag added.

“Thank you, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,” Millicent gave her a twisted smile. She could see the bitch try and work out if she could twist that into insubordination. Millicent was well aware she could tattle to Umbridge and get the old catbag into trouble, but that was also the last thing she wanted to do.

The only bright spot of her evening other than Mrs Norris balancing on her shoulder, was the third year managing to walk the dog with their yo-yo. “Five points to,” She glanced at their robes and pulled a face. “Gryffindor for learning a skill.” Merlin that felt vile.

“Bet you couldn’t do any better,” the third year winked, tossing her the yo-yo, and Millicent smirked. A very slow demonstration of some slightly harder tricks, while walking even slower down the hallway, before tossing it back. “Remember, it’s in the wrists.”

“Yeah right,” the third year grinned, heading down the other way whistling.

“Ten points for whistling, badly,” Millicent called, noting it but not the house on her tally.

“Thirty points from Gryffindor for being out past curfew, Potter,” Millicent bumped into him heading out of Snape’s office looking paler than usual.

“Bulstrode,” he barely looked up.

“Do yourself a favour, fucking talk to someone,” Millicent muttered under her breath. “Like an adult who actually gives a shit, Weasley’s mum, or Pomfrey. Before you die and cause more trauma to the school. Be good if we had one less death this year.”

“What do you care?” The old Potter would’ve been angry. She’d seen it enough when he clashed with Malfoy. This Potter looked like he’d given up the will to live, wan little prick. She hadn’t thought a jumped-up bureaucratic nitwit like Umbridge could’ve destroyed his fight so easily. Maybe it was all a plan by his arch-nemesis, death by rules lawyer.

“I really don’t,” Millicent shrugged feeling overly sangfroid, as she leaned against the wall. Maybe it’d been the yo-yo that eased some of her incurable rage, or that Potter gave her enough points she wouldn’t have to explain giving some to Umbridge.

“Sounds like you do,” he stared at her with glassy eyes. He was going to cry, and she’d have to punch him, and then she’d get in trouble and Snape would give her another lecture about not bringing attention to herself.

“Hearings going like your eyesight, four eyes,” Millicent attempted a sneer but thought it probably came off more like a grin. Fucking third year.

He opened his mouth, and she held her hand up to stop him. “No. Go back up where you belong, with the other oblivious idiots who think the world is pretty flowers and rainbows. Wank yourself stupid and sleep, you’ve got enough bags for a month at Butlins.”

She pushed off the wall and headed down to her room, ignoring how he gaped after her. Speccy twat.

Chapter Text

It’d been a good month, Millicent hadn’t had to rewrite a single essay, and her table remained free. She’d had no trouble convincing Mopsy to bring her all of her meals to the Fourth Floor Study Room, which Mopsy had taken it upon herself to clean. So Millicent’s meals were eaten without copious amounts of dust. She’d not lost any more points, and it seemed as if people were forgetting she even existed. Life was pretty good.

The Third Year was waiting for her, having mastered one of the tricks, and slyly goading her into demonstrating the other two with less than subtle daring. They’d even gotten a slightly better yo-yo, it was weighted better, and the string was smooth having not been knotted to all buggery as they’d learnt.

They’d tried to toss her their old one, but she’d thrown it back. Too dangerous, if she got caught with it there’d be “questions”. “You could show off to your friends, maybe teach them,” she’d suggested when they looked confused.

“Yeah,” followed by an “I’ve asked for a light-up one for Christmas and one of those proper trick ones, saw one on Blue Peter, it looked so cool.”

Millicent couldn’t help but grin at how young they were, fuck, how’d they managed to get to Third Year without having it beaten out of them. Right, Gryffindor, fucking losers. “Maybe I’ll be able to show you something?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Millicent hated the fond tone in her voice. “Twenty points for believing in Father Christmas,” she called, laughing as they groused good-naturedly at her.

She was not considering sending them a book on yo-yo tricks. Especially not the one she’d poured over. She really wasn’t prodding the fact that her only friend in Hogwarts was a Third Year she didn’t even know the name of. Fuck her life.

“Fifty points for spitting,” Millicent took from Hufflepuff after they choked on a drink. They didn’t even complain, too busy choking to notice. Their friend was with them, she didn’t need to do anything.

She even managed to get a Ravenclaw walking into a door, another forty points for damaging school property. Serves them right for walking backwards talking to their friends, and none of them warning the poor sod. She wasn’t even sure there was any damage to anything but their pride, which she doubted anyone would remember. Instead, they gave Millicent their best dirty looks, which were pathetic.

Perhaps there should be an after-school club where students are taught how to be something other than complete pansies.

“Oi Bulstrode,” Malfoy was still up as she entered the common room. She could feel her good mood rapidly fade away.

“Malfoy?” He was alone, she still wasn’t daft enough to push his head through a wall. Lord Malfoy had an attachment to his only child, and she wouldn’t risk being on his shit list for anything.

“Umbridge wants you in her office first thing,” the contempt was real.

“Right,” the good mood had well and truly left her. He was such a fucking ferret, she couldn’t see how the others found him attractive. Take away the insane wealth and connections, and he was a weedy squirrely faced ratfink, with barely enough brains to tie his shoelaces, and the social skills of a woodlouse.

“Some of us need to get our beauty sleep,” he flounced off. Like a couple of extra hours would change his bone structure. She would give him his flawless skin, but considering the conversations she’d overheard sadly in classes between him and Pansy about skincare, Millicent wasn’t sure flawless skin was worth smothering it in blind molerat saliva and catshit coffee grounds. She preferred water and just ignoring the breakouts now and again.

It did mean she wouldn’t have to go chasing after the High Inquisitor, and first thing to Umbridge was 8 am, and not as it was to Snape, 6 am.

“High Inquisitor,” the door was open, but Millicent knocked anyway and waited to be admitted.

“Ms Bulstrode,” Umbridge hem hemmed before gesturing for her to enter, hand out ready for the report Millicent had lightly clutched in her palm. “140 points taken.”

“Yes High Inquisitor,” Millicent had been pleased with the total. It was a touch above average for the squad, not that she studied it, but not beating Malfoy’s pairing.

“Damage to school property?”

“Fell into a door,” Millicent answered. “Walking backwards talking and not paying attention.”

Umbridge had a gleam in her eye. “Spitting?”

“Hufflepuff choking on a drink in the hallway spat it everywhere,” Millicent clasped her hands lightly behind her back, determined not to shift.

“Drinking in hallways,” Umbridge tutted. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Millicent was half surprised she wasn’t going to ban talking, she wouldn’t put it past her. No talking allowed in DADA, no questions were allowed to be asked, and if the answer to a question Umbridge asked wasn’t what she wanted it was detention.

She queried another couple, the twenty points Millicent assigned to a tall blonde seventh year, who she’d seen in passing, that should’ve been to the Third Year, for instance. “Whistling in the corridors.” A complete lie. It was still met with a hem hem.

She missed breakfast altogether but hadn’t been assigned extra patrols, which was a good thing. In fact, Millicent was able to pretty much get on with shit all day.

“By official decree from the Ministry, ratified by the High Inquisitor,” Dumbledore sighed, “There will be no drinking, whistling or loud talking allowed in the hallways going to and forth from lessons.”

Millicent held back the groan, Mopsy had insisted she was not allowed to be served food anywhere but the Hall today, and now she knew why. At least no one looked at Millicent. Ball games had been banned from anywhere other than “the correct” places and only under supervision by a member of staff. Dueling club was an absolute farce, going off the general chuntering, with only Ministry-approved spells being allowed, and only on dummies.

The library’s restricted section was practically barred to even the staff, and the meals had lost most of their variation, she only thanked Merlin, Umbridge seemed to enjoy heartier meals, salads being deemed only for animals.

Umbridge stood and explained in great detail the whys and wherefores of her latest decree like it made any difference. Unless Dumbledore got more backing, he had very little power over it. Which meant the rest of them had nothing. The stupid badge on Millicent’s robes all but flashing her as a target. There was nothing to be done but square her shoulders and glare at anyone who gave her any problems.

Not long until Christmas hols, when she could escape home and get absolutely rat-arsed with Gran on sherry that wasn’t as bad as wine, even if it was fortified. Oliviette the Seventh would go into boarding with Hagrid, she hated travelling, and Millicent discovered the lesser-known option back in the first year after he’d witnessed her begging Oliviette to behave.

Still, regardless of how intimidating she was, Millicent chose to head to her study room instead of joining the general populace, smuggling a mug of hot chocolate out and sipping it with rebellious glee as she slipped away from everyone else.

“Students is not supposed to be drinking,” Mopsy squeaked as Millicent surprised her in the room. A small fire had been laid, and an old-looking rug brought a splash of colour to the bland room.

“Oh no, whoever will you tell?” Millicent asked casually, dropping into the well-worn but still intact chair Mopsy found that wasn’t being used.

Mopsy wrung her hands. “Mopsy isn’t told Mopsy must be telling on drinkings.”

“Trouble with new rules,” Millicent acknowledged. “Well you told me, and I’m a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.”

Mopsy squeaked.

“Save’s you having to work out if you do need to tell anyone, when you’ve not been told to,” Millicent offered. “Nice rug.”

“Mopsy wanted to protect the floor,” Mopsy hopped back. “From the ash.”

“I can see how that would work,” Millicent agreed. Ignoring that it wasn’t difficult to set a charm for the ash not to ruin the floor, being that it was stone and easily cleaned. Or that until Mopsy laid a fire there’d been no risk of damage either.

She settled in to read, content in the knowledge she wouldn’t be disturbed, other than by Mopsy who was getting overly attached. Millicent wasn’t sure if it was to Millicent, or to the room itself, as she’d noticed an area blocked off.

“Students shouldn’t be out after curfew,” Mopsy popped in, causing Millicent to blink, she’d fallen completely involved with the machinations of Steerpike a dastardly kitchen boy who plots to bring a kingdom to its knees. If Potter had any wits about him, she could see him as Steerpike, pale, twisted, a pawn desperately trying to be something he wasn’t. Or perhaps he wasn’t at all, and he was Titus.

“Thanks, Mopsy,” Millicent nodded, she wasn’t late yet, and Mopsy alerted her with enough time to sneak down without being caught.

“Mopsy know’s quick ways,” Mopsy sounded almost sly, twisting her head back and forth.

“I would be a fool not to take advantage,” Millicent grinned. Quick ways Millicent didn’t already know? Sign her up.

She’d been apparated twice, but this was like stepping forward, soundless. From the study room to her room in one step. Mopsy bouncing with darting eyes.

“Very quick ways,” Millicent couldn’t help but be impressed. “Thank you, Mopsy.”

“Students be working hard,” Mopsy mumbled.

“Millicent,” she answered. “Can’t say Students when most of them do bugger all.”

Mopsy gasped, and Millicent wasn’t sure if it was the audacity to accuse the student body of being wastrels or being given permission to call Millicent by her given name. “Night Mopsy.”

“Dreams of sweetness,” Mopsy bid, before blurting out “Millicent.” Disappearing immediately.

Waking up to find her clothes freshly turned out, and a bath already run. There was even a small pot of pansies on her chest of drawers. This was the life. Millicent suddenly understood why Malfoy and Pansy got so outraged by Granger’s campaign to stop House Elves or some shit.

“Morning Mopsy,” Millicent sauntered out of her bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel, her skin reddened by the heat of the bath. “Thank you for the bath. It was the perfect temperature.”

“Mopsy is here to take Miss Millicent to breakfast,” Mopsy bounced about the room, checking the plant and tutting at a slightly bent leaf.

Millicent allowed her hair to be dried after getting dressed, Mopsy chattering quietly to herself as she gently pulled a brush through the frizzy mess Millicent called her hair. “Mopsy be used to brushing Misses hair before Mopsy was made to be Hogwarts Elf.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Mopsy,” Millicent murmured, half asleep from the gentle motions, Oliviette curled up in her lap, purring softly.

“Mopsy be taking care of Miss Millicent now,” she sounded sly. “Mopsy be passing on students to Bertie, students not be knowing Bertie isn’t Mopsy.”

“I don’t blame you,” Millicent agreed. “Perfectly Slytherin behaviour.”

“Mopsy couldn’t be Slytherin,” she sounded disheartened, and Millicent spied her ears drooping in the mirror. “Only students be houses. Mopsy is just Hogwarts.”

“Mopsy do you know that the moon is not made of cheese?” Millicent asked casually.

“Mopsy not be knowing that,” Mopsy chattered.

“You learned something, in Hogwarts, that makes you a student,” Millicent shrugged. “A better one than anyone who doesn’t learn anything today.”

Mopsy squeaked, dropping the brush and then squealed.

“You’d make a good Slytherin,” Millicent remarked ignoring her antics. “Better than most.”

“Miss Millicent is too kind,” Mopsy threw herself at Millicent's feet with big tears in her eyes.

“I can assure you I’m anything but,” Millicent grinned.

“Mopsy be telling Miss Millicent everything she knows,” Mopsy promised.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. She had no desire to know what everyone else got up to. “Breakfast though, that would be nice.”

Chapter Text

“Wanking,” Snape had wasted no time in her meeting to question her.

“Sir?” Millicent knew exactly what he was on about, but there was also no way she’d admit to it.

“You told the so-called wizarding saviour to wank himself stupid and sleep,” Snape sat back in his chair, looking conflicted.

“Did I, Sir?” Millicent asked pleasantly. “I don’t recall doing such a thing.”

“Miss Bulstrode, you may think us all to be idiots, but you were not quiet and did so in front of my office,” Snape pursed his lips. “Have you considered a career in therapy?”

She blinked.

“It was blunt, coarse, unbecoming of a Slytherin,” Snape listed off. “But perhaps, not wrong.”

“Sir,” Millicent decided to read the book titles on his shelf instead of her Head’s frankly terrifying gaze.

“You were advised to make as few waves as possible,” Snape paused. “Interfering with Potter’s detention, causing uproar in the Staffroom, and giving Potter mental health advice, is hardly that.”

“Sir,” Millicent spied a new book, mind magics. She let her gaze dance across it, making a note of the title to try and hunt down in the library for later.

“Have you any more thoughts on your future?” Snape asked.

“I’ve signed up to do my GCSE’s in May,” Millicent answered. She’d talked briefly about it start of fourth year, and he’d spoken about having options. The basics would mean if it all went tits up, she could escape without having to negotiate with an already incompetent Ministry.

“Your guardian will need to send in a list of the dates,” Snape noted. “Should you need any extra tutoring, it can be arranged.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Millicent knew better to ask. Some of the Muggleborn’s each year did the same thing, with special dispensation to miss Hogwarts.

“Keep your head down for pity's sake,” Snape advised. “If you do happen to bump into Potter, maybe tell him to do his work. Merlin knows why he listened to you.”

“I’m very scary, Sir,” Millicent commented blandly.

“Quite,” Snape picked up his quill and the stack of homework. “Send in Zabini.”

“You’re up,” Millicent muttered, walking past Zabini loitering in the common room, looking anxious. “He’s in a great mood.” She couldn’t help herself as her fellow student paled rapidly.

Mopsy had her bed all turned down, ready for Millicent to fall into, Oliviette settling on Millicent’s chest the moment she lay down.

Therapy? Millicent could just see it now, people weeping and wailing while Millicent had to be nice to them. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Still, it was an amusing thought to fall asleep to.

The Third Year wasn’t in their usual space as she headed down her patrol route, and Millicent wasn’t concerned. There was no point being concerned. She still hadn’t a clue who they were, barring a third year lion, and there would be no chance anyone would offer up the information.

“Sixty points for offensive garments,” Millicent guessed, it was an hour past curfew and she’d wanted to sleep hours ago.

“You can’t take more than fifty,” Potter loitered by Snape’s office.

Millicent shrugged. It took or it didn’t the intent was there, and Umbridge would probably back her play out of spite to everyone who wasn’t Umbridge.

He looked better, still pale and speccy, and he still hadn’t sorted out his atrocious hair. He did however look looser, and his eyebags weren’t around his ankles. “It worked.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Millicent started to continue walking back to her room. Mopsy wasn’t able to fool the spell when Millicent was on duty, and she’d gotten too reliant on Mopsy saving her from talking to people.

“Wanking,” Potter mumbled. “Didn’t think it would, but, yeah.”

“Good for you, finally doing what everyone else in your room will have been doing for years,” Millicent ignored how he started to trail after her. She could just imagine Snape’s reaction to all of this.

“Any more words of advice?” Potter asked, and she was very much ignoring how he’d fallen into step with her.

“Fuck off back to the tower?” Millicent tried halfheartedly.

“Snape likes you,” Potter lied.

“Professor Snape does no such thing,” Millicent responded, the bastard dragging her into a conversation she really didn’t want to be having. Especially this close to the Slytherin common room, even if everyone should be tucked up in bed.

“Said I should listen to you, even if you had no manners or class,” Potter didn’t get the hint.

“I just want to go to bed,” she tried, but he didn’t seem to be leaving. “You’re just going to turn into Weasley aren’t you?”

She cursed under her breath as he just shrugged, still not turning around. “If you tell anyone about this I will kill you.”

He gave her a sly grin at her threat, and she wondered when he’d stopped being afraid of her. Probably when she told him to wank himself stupid, or possibly when Weasley started stalking her and she didn’t kill him.

“Mopsy?” Millicent called softly.

“Miss Millicent, students isn’t allowed out after curfew!” she sounded scandalised, and went to grab her, only for Potter to grab hold of Millicent’s hand, all three of them ending up in Millicent’s room.

“Mopsy bad, Mopsy bad,” Mopsy wailed as Millicent muttered under her breath. Potter just looked stunned. Other than Audrey, he was the only non-staff member who’d entered the room in the entire five years she’d been here, and barring Mopsy, Matron Pomfrey the only staff member. They’d had to call for her when Audrey’s womb decided to shed in the space of an hour instead of the usual week. Absolute blood bath.

“Potter is bad, not Mopsy,” Millicent corrected. “Grabbing hold of people he’s barely an acquaintance with, very unbecoming.”

“Mopsy ruined Miss Millicent,” Mopsy wailed loudly, throwing herself at Millicent’s feet, hands covering her ears.

“Mopsy did no such thing,” Millicent tried to pry her off her shoes, but Mopsy was stronger than she had any right to be. “Potter tell her it’s all your fault.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my fault,” Potter stumbled, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her room. Which admittedly, since Mopsy adopted Millicent as her personal student, had become much nicer. Mopsy was quite artistic and had painted a mural of Gormenghast after Millicent started reading it to her. She now had several pots with plants in, and a huge leafy monstrosity she was fairly sure had gone missing from the Greenhouses. There was a large rag rug covering the space between the two beds, and cushions galore. All of which she’d been very careful not to ask where they’d come from, but it did look a little like a spread from Ms Witch Weekly.

“Bit better than that,” Millicent hissed at him, petting Mopsy awkwardly.

“I shouldn’t have touched Bulstrode, or been out after curfew?” He tried, the wailing got a little quieter.

A knock on the door shortly after came as no surprise. The rules had been made very clear from the moment they stepped foot into the Slytherin dorm, no mixed genders or sexuality-orientated individuals regardless of gender were to enter rooms, even if invited.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape’s voice sounded exasperated.

“Come in Sir,” she replied, having given up all hope of not ending up tossed out on her ear.

He took a moment, which she fully understood, to appreciate the tragi-comedic sight of Potter blushing, Mopsy bawling and Millicent looking completely uncomfortable. “Sorry, Sir.”

He stared, before steeling himself and entering the room, with half an eye on the adaptations. She was sure he’d have words about that at her next meeting. The door closed firmly behind him, and he looked almost uncomfortable.

“Explain.”

Millicent took a moment to compose what she could say without incriminating Mopsy. Potter on the other hand did no such thing.

“Bulstrode was trying to leave, so I grabbed her, and now I’m here.”

“Mopsy is bad,” Mopsy started again.

“Potter is bad, Mopsy is not bad,” Millicent tried to soothe, glaring daggers at Potter who had fewer brain cells than the door.

Snape looked like he wanted to curse. “My office, first thing in the morning. Potter come with me, detention for the rest of the year. Miss Bulstrode, if you wish for a female member of staff to attend, please ask Mopsy to assist.”

“100 points from Gryffindor for outrageous behaviour,” Snape grabbed Potter by his robe sleeve and popped out of the room, leaving Millicent still trying to calm down Mopsy.

It took all night convincing Mopsy that Millicent didn’t blame her, including vast amounts of hot chocolate, two baths, several hairstyles, and Millicent’s favourite foods appearing throughout the night. Sleep might have been preferable. Scratch that, it was definitely preferable.

“The Headmaster is involved,” Snape looked as sleep-deprived as Millicent was. “We will floo in from my office. The Deputy Headmistress is not amused. Your Grandmother will be arriving with the Deputy Headmistress shortly after breakfast. You will be excused from the days classes.”

Mopsy hadn’t left Millicent’s side since Potter grabbed onto her hand, and started wailing again. Snape glared at Millicent as if it was all Millicent’s fault.

“It’s all Potter’s fault,” Millicent soothed, barely paying attention to the words as her hand gently patted Mopsy’s head.

“Miss Millicent is being expelled,” Mopsy threw herself around Millicent’s legs, and for a moment Millicent looked at Snape for confirmation.

“No such thing is happening,” Snape sounded tired.

“See, nothing bad is going to happen,” Millicent mumbled, not believing a word of it.

Dumbledore looked concerned when Mopsy decided Millicent wasn’t to step into the floo, instead taking her directly, and cleanly into his office, as Snape followed looking pissed.

“Miss Bulstrode, inform your elf that she is to stop absconding with you,” Snape snapped.

“She’s a Hogwarts elf, Sir,” Millicent said blandly, her hand offering Mopsy comfort. “I don’t own an elf.”

“Perhaps you should explain that to Mopsy,” he stomped to sit down on the only comfortable-looking chair in the office.

“Your name is Mopsy?” Dumbledore peered down his bespectacled nose at them. Another speccy twat.

“Mopsy is bad elf,” Mopsy wailed. “Mopsy took bad boy into Miss Millicent’s rooms and ruined her.”

“I’m hardly ruined, although he is a bad boy,” Millicent mumbled under her breath.

“Out of the mouths of elves,” Snape gestured as McGonagall hurried Potter into the room, who looked like he had managed to sleep. Bastard.

“Her elf,” the old bat dismissed it.

“Hogwarts elf,” Millicent stared at Dumbledore, challenging him to contradict her. “Ask Potter.”

“I don’t know, I’d never seen her before,” Potter answered as Snape sighed.

“Miss Bulstrode was asking you to confirm your version of events, not if the elf is hers or not,” Snape spoke slowly, while the tabby bristled.

“My guardian?” Millicent requested.

“Quite,” Dumbledore glanced at his Deputy. “There will need to be some precautions made, so this matter doesn’t leave the room and ruin reputations unnecessarily.”

Millicent cursed silently as Mopsy started all over again. “Potter did wrong, not Mopsy.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed Bulstrode,” Potter agreed.

“Bad boy,” Mopsy whispered into Millicent’s lap, and she couldn’t help but agree. Fucking idiot.

“Precautions must be taken to ensure this remains a private matter,” Dumbledore ignored the audible whisper.

“Neither of us is of age, you’ll need our guardian’s permission,” Millicent pointed out as Potter looked a little surprised. Fucking Lion’s never thinking about what was going on.

She refused to speak to any of them other than Mopsy until her Gran turned up looking baffled. “Hi Gran,” Millicent waved at her, unable to move as Mopsy had decided to be a barrier between Millicent and the rest of the room.

“Millicent,” she leaned over carefully as if Mopsy was a toddler. “You must be Mopsy, my Millicent’s written and told me all about you. How well you’re looking after her.”

Mopsy finally stopped crying, and stood still, mouth open and eyes wide. “Miss Millicent wrote about me?”

“She said you were a credit to your house,” Gran held her hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mopsy.”

Millicent held back the curse as Mopsy burst into more tears, this time though, Gran gave her a hug and a little rock, like she used to do when Millicent was a baby.

“Not her elf?” the old bag muttered in the corner.

“Potter’s guardian needs to be here too,” Millicent pointed out, with Gran backing her up, and Snape getting an evil gleam in his eye.

“It is none of your concern, Miss Bulstrode,” Dumbledore thought his batty exterior and sanguine manner would fly.

“You’re only interested in your school, the boy needs someone who cares about his interests,” Gran sniffed, petting Mopsy on the back, before extracting herself and taking the seat next to Millicent.

Millicent left it to Gran, ignoring the raised voices to consider her options. She could just apply to do her OWLS at the ministry and withdraw from the school completely. With access to the curriculum and a library, she could probably pass them with EE’s if she tried hard enough.

“A vow will need to be taken before Mr Potter’s guardian arrives,” Dumbledore broke through her musings.

“Gran’s a muggle, it won’t take,” Millicent burst his bubble, and Potter blinked. She was pretty sure it’d been a surprise to Dumbles and Maggy.

“An obliviate then,” Dumbledore asserted.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Millicent looked at Snape who shook his head.

“Ethically questionable, but the Headmaster has accommodations allowing him such actions.”

“Sounds like something he could abuse,” Gran said, looking at her Head of House, while Dumbledore smiled serenely.

“Doesn’t it just,” Millicent muttered under her breath, and Mopsy clung on tighter.

It was like a farce. Millicent was living an actual farce. She recognised Professor Lupin, and the other man looked faintly familiar, with none of them mentioning his name. There was no love lost between Snape and him though, but Potter looked happy to see him.

“Harry, did you really grab hold of Miss Bulstrode?” Professor Lupin questioned gently.

“Yes,” Potter answered, looking very much like a flower soaking up the attention. Freak.

“Why?” Professor Lupin asked as the other man started to squawk.

“Because she was going away and I needed to talk to her,” Potter glanced at Snape, before rubbing his head. “I didn’t mean to end up in her room, but Mopsy didn’t give me time to think.”

“You understand how serious this is?” Professor Lupin asked gently.

“Yes,” Potter’s voice cracked.

“Could you have waited to speak to Miss Bulstrode?” Why they were letting Lupin ask the questions, when the others were right there, but Gran wasn’t objecting.

“Yes, no, I don’t know,” Potter stared at her. “Snape said she might help.”

“I said no such thing,” Snape snapped.

“Told him you didn’t,” Millicent heard the words leave her brain.

“It’s only a problem because she used an elf,” the other man shouted.

“Fuck right off,” Millicent immediately flushed, her Gran giving her a faintly reproachful look, but he’d set off Mopsy again and Millicent was getting wrinkles from how wet she was getting. “Mopsy did absolutely nothing wrong. I want it on the record. Mopsy is not at fault. No fault is on this side of things at all. Headmaster, my reputation isn’t in tatters, Professor Snape appeared almost the moment it happened. Potter was in my room for less than five minutes and we were supervised by Mopsy the entire time.”

She was getting sick of this.

“All I did was try and head back to my room after my patrol. I bumped into Potter in the hallway by Professor Snape’s office and he followed me. I asked him to leave me alone, and he didn’t. I called for Mopsy,” she considered how to word the next part. She had been considering taking him to the study room. “Mopsy rightly informed us that Students were not supposed to be out after curfew, and as Mopsy is the elf attached to the Squad.” Another technical truth. “Took initiative to take me back to my room without wasting more time. If Potter hadn’t grabbed onto me, none of this would have happened.”

“Mr Potter?” the Headmaster looked disappointed.

“Gran?” Millicent nudged her when it became apparent no one was stepping in for Potter even if he was in the wrong.

“Why was Mr Potter out after hours?” Gran stepped in.

“That is none of your concern,” The Headmaster tried to be imperious. It didn’t work.

Snape had almost relaxed into his chair.

“It seems to me, that if Mr Potter hadn’t been out after hours, down in the vicinity of Millicent’s house, then none of this would have happened. And another thing, why is Millicent being forced to be out late at night?”

Millicent smiled sweetly at her teachers, waiting for the response, as Gran stared sternly.

“Mr Potter needs extracurricular support,” Professor Snape replied after a moment. “My spare time is somewhat limited, and it is the only time I have free.”

“What impact is this going to have on my granddaughter?” Gran faced her Head of House.

“Harry’s a good lad!” the other man shouted, completely inappropriately.

“I’m sure you believe so,” Gran squared off. She could take him, Millicent believed in Gran. Unless he used a wand, and then Millicent would eviscerate him.

“If Mr Potter leaves Miss Bulstrode alone, there should be no ill effects, the matter was handled as discretely as possible. With Mopsy taking them directly to Miss Bulstrode’s room, there will have been no witnesses bar myself, and anyone with access to the infractions book.”

“Is Mr Potter going to leave my Granddaughter alone?” Gran asked.

“I just need to talk to her,” Potter did himself no favours, as Millicent rolled her eyes.

“A liar would assure you he would leave Miss Bulstrode alone for the rest of the year,” Snape sighed.

“Christmas holidays are just around the corner, it’d be best if I took Millicent home until January,” Gran decided. “Young man, my Granddaughter has the right to say no. I don’t know what they're teaching here, but if a young lady, or otherwise says no, it means no.”

“Perhaps you might like to take Mopsy with you?” Dumbledore asked as Mopsy clutched onto Millicent. “As penance.”

“She doesn’t need to pay penance, she did nothing wrong,” Millicent growled, apologising as Gran gave her a look.

“I need to talk to Bulstrode!” Potter shouted.

“Why?” Millicent rounded on him.

“How?” Potter asked, almost begging.

“How what?” Millicent asked.

“How did you know?” He looked so utterly pathetic that she wasn’t sure if the kindest thing would be to just put him out of his misery.

“Everyone knows. You’re one step out of the fucking grave, floating about like a pissing ghost and there's enough about the fucking place.” Millicent apologised again to her Gran. She decided to just ignore the others. Gran was going to wash her mouth out with soap, she could tell.

“No one said anything,” he sounded so defeated.

“Why would they?” Millicent asked. “You aren’t special, no matter what they tell you. He’s training your house to be his good little child soldiers, she’s trying to do all of the work he’s not doing because he’s meddling everywhere politically instead of focusing on being a Headmaster. Ours has his hands tied because most of our house are so firmly embroiled with the “wrong” side, who currently are gaining power quicker than He can stop them because he’s splitting his focus on too many things. You’ll be wheeled out as a shiny prize to dangle and sacrifice, but beyond that don’t expect anyone to give a stuff about you. None of them do. Not really. Because in two years time, we won’t be here. In the same way, your primary school teacher didn’t care about you because you leave. We all leave. How do you not get this yet?”

Millicent stared at him.

“Have you even considered that you might have to do something with your life, other than whatever shite that’s been filling your ears?” Millicent paused. “Sorry Gran.”

“And he’s not denying it, because they all know. All of them. Look at their faces. She’s guilty because she thinks she should care, but she’s overworked, underpaid, undermined, and has the pressures of making sure no more of us die again and no offence, if he’s far too old to be a Headmaster she’s getting on a fair bit. Ours is stressed because along with whatever else is going on, he’s got too much on his hands and he looks after the sneakiest house, who also have the most powerful parents to hang over his head, and he’s not a pureblood. No offence again, but you listen to Malfoy and he’s supposed to be under 40, does he look it? Do any of them look like they are under retirement age? This place is like a sap on youth.

“Look at Lupin, still frigging old, but best DADA teacher we had. If he’d been one of ours, he’d still be teaching, but because that one doesn’t have the power to protect him and whatever else he’s scheming with, Lupin gets let go. Did it even occur to any of you to just fight it? Malfoy might be a git, but he fights for what he wants with every breath he has. Even if it’s usually shit reasons. Sorry Gran. You need to learn to ask yourselves, what would Malfoy do in this situation? Kick up the biggest stink and drag as many people into it until they give way.” Millicent prodded Potter in the chest, riled up now she’d finally got a chance to talk the way she used to with Audrey where they’d tear apart an aspect of the school until they’d exhausted it and moved on to the next. Also, Millicent had the very real realisation that she wasn’t going to be able to return after this anyway so she might as well get it off her chest.

“You aren’t special. None of us are special. It’s not new. It’s not even that clever. Get a grip, get a clue. And Professor Snape’s not wrong, you do need to study unless you want to turn into Malfoy and float through life on the family money. You have a Professor as a guardian you lucky git, use him,” Millicent picked up Mopsy and glared at him. “And apologise to Mopsy.”

“Sorry Mopsy,” Potter mumbled.

“Properly, in writing, and think about it, properly, none of this halfhearted shit, sorry Gran, that you skate on by with,” Millicent grimaced as Gran raised her eyebrows, she was definitely getting the soap treatment. “And if I’m not expelled, I want my assignments sending home. I’ve got the finished ones here if you can hand them in for me. The two I’ve not got finished I’ll owl in.”

Millicent pulled them out of her bag and slapped them on Dumbledore’s desk, making sure he saw every single one. “I’ve got witnesses now to say I did them, in case they go missing.”

“Can we go now?” Millicent asked her Gran, ignoring the others, because she was damn sure the old cat was going to kill her.

“I want a written apology,” Gran glared at them. “And a full written explanation why Millicent is being made to patrol after hours.”

“Yes Mrs Bulstrode,” Dumbledore answered.

“It’s Johnson, actually.” Gran sniffed.

“Mopsy, do you mind packing my things for me?” Millicent asked nicely, hugging Mopsy, who clung to her like a baby.

“Mopsy is honoured Miss Millicent,” Mopsy squeaked, glaring at Potter. “Mopsy will lock down Miss Millicent’s room so no one else can enter, not even bad boy.”

Millicent bit back a smirk. “Professor Snape, would you mind taking us home?” Gran asked.

“Perhaps we could?” Professor Lupin offered.

“That’s fucking genius plan, sorry Gran, leaving Potter alone without any support,” Millicent snapped, it was like none of them had any brains between them.

“We will be having words, young lady,” Gran warned.

“Yes Gran,” Millicent acquiesced, staring at her hands ignoring Potter gaping like a fish. Not her problem. Not her problem at all.

“I honestly don’t understand why your father insisted this was the best school,” Gran huffed. “Our local comp topped the local charts for languages and sciences. They have a sterling reputation for extracurriculars, and the Head has won national awards.”

“Ours has fifteen different titles,” Millicent answered sweetly.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape sounded faintly amused.

“Sorry Sir, didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Perhaps more believable if you hadn’t ranted about all of our flaws,” Snape informed her dryly.

“He’s probably forgotten already, what with me being an evil Slytherin pureblood,” Millicent muttered under her breath, and Gran swatted her gently. They were saved by Mopsy returning with all of Millicent’s belongings, and Oliviette, draped over Mopsy’s arms.

“Miss Bulstrode, Mrs Johnson,” Snape gestured. “Mopsy, if you could follow your charge’s spark.”

“Mopsy be not letting Miss Millicent out of her sight,” Mopsy agreed. “Ever again.”

Chapter Text

Gran made her sit with soap in her mouth for thirty minutes, forcing her to gargle at the end before only a single rinse until evening. They’d had a long talk about cursing, and how it wasn’t big and it really wasn’t clever. She also informed Millicent she was considering taking Millicent to their local church to get her to talk about her anger issues with the vicar.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Vicar Chawleigh, who was no longer with them, had many chats with Millicent over the years. Normally while Millicent scrubbed the church floors, or windows, or sanded down the pews. He was very much of the belief she just had too much energy, and lacked a strong male presence in her life. He wasn’t entirely wrong, when she was tired she didn’t have the energy to rage. She also just felt better being at home.

The difference between being at Hogwarts where she was constantly on guard, to being back at Gran’s. Millicent was sure she’d grown another couple of inches from not having the constant weight of it all pressing her down. The air was better too, and the views. She kind of missed the variety in food though.

After the first lecture, Millicent was left alone to get on with her schoolwork. An owl arrived within a day of Millicent returning home with a bundle of work and even some notes. The notes came separately and it took more than a minute to decipher the scrawl, but the doodles made her snicker. She had a feeling she knew who’d provided her with the notes, but not enough to risk the wrath of Mopsy by saying it. Although she did wonder if he really was going to get stuck in detention for the rest of the year, school or otherwise.

She’d sat her mock exams at the local comp, Gran having contacted the school to bring forward the date as soon as they got back. A pile of coursework assignments, extra readings and a day set aside for some experiments that needed to be done in a classroom setting, and the almost three weeks early leaving school had been eaten up almost entirely. She’d spent it mainly at the kitchen table, with the radio playing Radio One while Gran was out, or the Archers if she was in. Oliviette spent her time reclaiming her territory covering the house in fur, and getting into fights with the local farm cats. All in all, a fairly productive time indeed.

She’d just finished a particularly interesting History essay which was supposed to ease the way into doing the History Coursework, when there was a knock on her window. Not a tap, a knock.

She ignored it, she’d not been allowed to leave the house until Gran got back from shopping, in case the local truancy officer stumbled across her and caused issues or something. Millicent’s plans for the rest of the afternoon were to dig out all of her yo-yo trick books and see if she couldn’t teach herself something new. The yo-yo itself was already on her drawers, with a second smaller one sitting next to it with a flowery M for Mopsy painted on.

Another knock on the window, followed by a rattle, and Millicent called for Mopsy. Mopsy took her self-given duties to Millicent very seriously, as did she take Millicent's overall health into consideration. Mopsy was in the process of rebuilding the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden because the vegetables Gran had in from the local Lidl were not up to Mopsy’s standards.

“Miss Millicent is to be working,” Mopsy hand her hands on her hips, and Millicent up until Mopsy moved into Gran’s, hadn’t even considered Mopsy had a waist. Mopsy had definitely come into her own, having more than decided she was taking charge of the small house and garden, as well as Millicent. Millicent got to witness Mopsy’s stern hands on hips move frequently.

“Someone’s knocking on the window,” Millicent informed her, not checking because Mopsy was aces at stuff like this. And this way Millicent would be able to swear under potion, she informed a responsible individual first.

Mopsy flew to the window in a rage, pulling back the new lace tatting, and gauze, that according to Mopsy all respectable houses had, and revealed a redhead on a broom, looking frustrated.

“Bad boy!” Mopsy shouted, stomping her foot. “Bad boy go away!”

He waved desperately, dragging Millicent’s attention away from looking for the books in the bottom of her book trunk. “Weasley,” she muttered under her breath. “Older one, there’ll be another somewhere around the place. They come as a matching pair.”

“Miss Millicent, look away from bad boy, Miss Julia will not be happy to hear bad boys knocking on Miss Millicent’s windows,” Mopsy tried to shoo Weasley away, while he tried to gesture to open the window.

“They won’t give up,” Millicent commented, returning to searching for her books. “Just ask Professor Snape, you must have heard about them at Hogwarts?”

“Mopsy isn’t troubling with students,” Mopsy sniffed. “Not until told to look after Miss Millicent’s students. Mopsy doesn’t trouble with students now, only Miss Millicent.”

“Fair enough,” Millicent snagged the oldest book from the bottom, quickly finding the other three. “Found them!”

“Mopsy say Miss Millicent would,” she sounded proud of Millicent, and Millicent couldn’t help but give her a small smile. As ever, it sent Mopsy into fits of squeaking, before returning her attention to Weasley. “Ones, Twos, Threes.”

She reached three, and Weasley was gone. Millicent tilted her head curious as to what exactly Mopsy had done.

“Mopsy not thinkings of brooms, Mopsy taking precautions now,” Mopsy wiped her hands together. “Mopsy not be having bad boys without Miss Julia here.”

“Fair enough, fancy learning a new trick?” Millicent asked.

“Mopsy still be fixing houses, but will be learning soon, if Miss Millicent be finished with schoolworks?” Mopsy beamed at her.

“Thanks, Mopsy,” Millicent gave her a small hug, grinning as she squeaked happily, disappearing silently.

There was a trick Millicent wanted to try with two yo-yos, but they needed to be the same, and she couldn’t leave the house until Gran got back to go get another one. So she picked one she’d not been able to do before her growth spurt, flicking it behind her back and through the legs. Something she worked on mastering before Mopsy came back, as it involved multiple cracks on the head and bruises on her legs as she mistimed it.

Mopsy would get her some healing salve, which Millicent was more than confident of, but she’d be unlikely to let Millicent injure herself mastering the trick. There were others that shouldn’t involve too much more than a bit of rope burn, those Mopsy shouldn’t be too concerned about. Millicent was a firm believer in asking for forgiveness over permission, especially when it came to Mopsy. Gran not so much.

“Millicent love,” Gran bustled through the door, “Come help with the shopping.”

“Coming Gran,” Millicent placed her toy on the side carefully and made her way genteelly down the stairs. Gran agreed with Mopsy, that Millicent shouldn’t race down the stairs sounding like a herd of elephants. It took restraint not to jump the last four steps.

Gran gave her a kiss on the cheek, handing over the string bags and removing her shoes to place neatly by the front door. “Put the kettle on as well, won’t you love.”

“Will do, I’ll bring it through,” Millicent offered, carrying the bags into the kitchen and flicking the kettle on. It didn’t take very long to unpack, the kettle boiling shortly after Millicent finished storing the string bags away.

“Mopsy, would you like a tea?” Millicent called out the back door.

“Mopsy would love a tea, Miss Millicent,” Mopsy answered, one of the few rules Gran imparted being that Millicent would still be made to do chores. Funnily enough, Mopsy agreed, claiming ladies of good repute always made tea. It wasn’t like Millicent had anyone to check that with, but it sounded about right, probably.

“Gran’s back,” letting her know, although Mopsy no doubt knew already.

A plate of biscuits, a cosy on the teapot, and three cups with saucers on the tray, and Millicent joined Gran in what used to be the dumping ground and now was the receiving room. Which considering Gran’s consisted of two downstairs rooms, one of which being the kitchen where they ate, having a room for receiving people seemed a bit excessive.

They didn’t have much room to argue considering it’d been full of boxes and old coats before, all of which were being stored “elsewhere”. Millicent only hoped it was in the roof, and not at Hogwarts. Even the TV had been moved back from the kitchen into the “receiving room” now there was space.

The tea set had appeared with Mopsy, as had the pretty rug, the end tables, and the chairs. Millicent only hoped whoever was in charge of furnishings at Hogwarts didn’t visit. The decorations she suspected were also Hogwarts specials, with one of the small landscapes moving as if by a breeze. Gran claimed the newish-looking green velvet curtains had always been there, but Millicent was fairly sure the house had never had velvet curtains before.

Technically, Mopsy was still a Hogwarts elf. They could argue it with her, and Gran.

“Play Mother, Millicent pet,” Gran settled already with her knitting out, Mopsy perched, feet dangling on her chair, leaving Millicent the one in the middle.

“Yes, Gran.”

The first cup was always enjoyed in silence, with the second for talking.

“I bumped into the new Vicar again, he’s very young, has very strange ideas,” Gran started. “Says he’s been watching that show and wants to try out some of the ideas.”

Millicent looked blankly at her.

“The one with that Comedienne. The fat one. Dressed up as a Vicar.” Gran filled her in. “It’s a BBC One, you wouldn’t like it.”

“Probably not Gran,” Millicent agreed. She hadn’t a clue what Gran was going on about. Still better than when she started complaining about the state of Emmerdale. Or when she’d been gushing about a wedding in Coronation Street.

“I was talking to him about anger issues, and he suggested that you take up a physical sport,” Gran gave her a look. “So you’ll be signing up for Cross Country again when you’re back after Christmas. And I’ll be writing to Professor Snape and advising him that you need to have an outlet for all that anger.”

“Yes Gran,” Millicent didn’t bother to argue it. She’d done it the first couple of years with Audrey, as Audrey’s sister had run the club. It’d been banned in third year due to the Dementors, and then Fourth Year while they’d picked it up again, with Audrey not coming back for Fifth and OWLs happening, Millicent had dropped it.

She did sort of miss it, the teachers really didn’t keep any track of them and they could run for miles without any supervision. Some of the older students were nice too, in a general way. It wasn’t an overly competitive club, full of Hufflepuff’s, Muggleborns and Halfbloods. She’d need to find someone new to run with though. And get back into running, maybe she should start.

Mopsy was nodding along as if Gran was speaking words of wisdom, neither of them understanding how depraved Cross Country could get, and she was not about to share it with them. Millicent really did miss Audrey. She’d spoken to her for an hour the other evening, but it really wasn’t the same. It’d be summer before they could meet up, blasted French holidays.

There was a polite knock at the door, and Gran frowned. “It’s a bit late for callers.”

“Shall I get it?” Millicent asked.

“Mopsy will be making sure bad boys didn’t find a way,” Mopsy glared at the very thought. Gran mouthed Bad Boys as she left the room. Millicent mouthed back Later and listened.

“Miss Julia and Miss Millicent is not to be receiving nows,” Mopsy sounded stern. “Mopsy wills be taking a calling card and informing ladies of house.”

Millicent wondered if this was the case in every house with a House elf, or if it was just Mopsy. She couldn’t help but grin a bit as Mopsy made whomever it was fill in a calling card. Gran didn’t interfere, Gran’s soaps would be coming on soon, and dinner was still to be had. She’d be in a foul mood if she missed any.

Mopsy returned after closing the door firmly, perching back on her chair and sipping at her tea.

“Everything alright, Mopsy?” Millicent asked.

“Bad boys parents,” Mopsy sniffed. “Mopsy be making them come back at proper time.”

“Bad boys?” Gran asked, not looking overly concerned.

“Weasley twins,” Millicent answered. “Knocking on the window while you were out, Mopsy dealt with it.”

Gran frowned. “Weasley?”

“Potter’s friends,” Millicent filled in the connection. “The original baddest boy.”

“Do I need to write to the school again?” Gran frowned.

“Not a clue, Gran,” Millicent shrugged. “I went four years without saying more than a word to any of them, and then this year they’ve not stopped wanting to talk to me.”

Chapter Text

There were things Millicent learned living with Mopsy, how to serve tea properly, and that every respectable house had a receiving room. The only good vegetable was grown by an elf, and receiving hours were ten until twelve, and two until four. Allowing time for the house to breakfast, and ease into the day in a genteel way.

Genteel ways included full baths, which as the house didn’t have a full bathroom, involved a larger tub than they had before, being placed in the bedroom every morning for baths to be had.

A doily on the end tables, a frilly lace thing over the backs of the chairs, which Millicent still didn’t quite get, and Oliviette the Seventh was now named Miss Oliviette the Seventh and had her own small chair, that matched the larger ones. An uncomfortable looking two-seater had been crammed in, still matching, and still not something they’d already owned previously.

Millicent got scrubbed within an inch of her life, her hair styled like a respectable young lady, which seemed to be brushed until it didn’t frizz, with a few clips to keep it out of her eyes. She wasn’t allowed to put on her jeans, not to receive in any way, Mopsy promised her that she could put on her jeans afterwards. Instead, she had to wear a dress and thick tights. Small mercies there wasn’t a rule about showing ankles. Most of Millicent’s dresses bordered on being short. She’d grown over the last year.

Gran and Millicent were made to sit in the receiving room from ten to ten, and Mopsy found an embroidery hoop she’d stuffed into Millicent’s hands like she knew what to do with it. Gran had her crossword out, which Mopsy had pulled a bit of a face at, but not pushed.

Bang on ten am, there was another knock at the door, and Mopsy, who was wearing a blanket like a cardigan, answered the door. “Miss’s Julia and Millicent will be seesing Bad Parents in the receiving room, you will be following Mopsy.”

Millicent bit back the snort, as Gran put down her paper, the pen slipping down the side of the chair, standing up with her hands placed in front of her, Millicent following suit, the hoop clattering to the end table as Mopsy walked imperiously into the room.

“Miss Julias and Miss Millicents, the bad parents are here to be seeing you,” Mopsy sniffed.

“Mr and Mrs Weasley, Gran,” Millicent whispered loudly.

“And bad boys,” Mopsy growled.

“And the Weasley boys,” Millicent added as they shuffled into the room. Mopsy looked livid.

Mrs Weasley looked confused, and Millicent couldn’t blame her. The house was tiny, and very Muggle. The village was tiny and also very Muggle. And yet it was like an episode of Upstairs Downstairs, or probably more accurately Acorn Antiques.

The three boys looked completely baffled, and Mr Weasley kept glancing at Mopsy like she was an alien.

“Please have a seat,” Gran waved at the two-seater. “Maybe the boys can go outside with Millicent.”

“Miss Millicent should not be going near bad boys,” Mopsy whispered loudly, with her back to the Weasleys as if they couldn’t hear her. Millicent bit her tongue so as not to cackle.

“There isn’t the space,” Gran lowered her voice.

“Miss Millicent’s reputation!” Mopsy started to wail.

“It’ll be fine,” Millicent assured cheerily.

“How will Miss Millicent get a respectable match with bad boys here?” Mopsy’s eyes started to fill with tears.

“No one will know,” Millicent looked at Gran. “I was thinking I might walk them down to the Church?”

Gran gave her a faintly suspicious look, before nodding. “Don’t go wandering off onto the moors.”

“Promise,” Millicent gave the brownie salute. “This means I’m not receiving any more, right?”

“I reckon not,” Gran nodded as Mopsy almost vibrated with the desire to contradict.

“We’ll be back in a bit then,” Millicent knelt, gave Mopsy a hug, and the Weasley parents a small nod.

“You three wait here,” as she headed upstairs and threw on her jeans and oversized jumper, her boots by the front door. They hadn’t moved and were now glancing around like they were in a mad house and they weren’t wrong. Gran’s was a wonderful madhouse now Mopsy had taken over. Millicent couldn’t remember ever having so much fun.

“Don’t forget to wear your coat, Mopsy says it’s threatening rain today,” Gran called through as Millicent finished tying up her boots.

“Yes, Gran.”

“And your gloves.”

“Yes, Gran.”

“And if I see that hat of yours on the hook we’ll be having words.”

“It’s on my head, Gran.”

“Good girl.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent called, waving the three idiots out and closing the door softly behind her. “Freedom.”

She hadn’t been expecting to see three more Weasley boys and Weasley girl loitering against the wall, two of them smoking and the other two playing with a ball.

“Mopsy’ll go mad if you leave the ends outside,” Millicent commented, deciding to focus on the important details. “Before any of you start, not talking about anything about any of this. You can come with me to the Church if you’ve nothing better to do.”

She didn’t bother to check, setting off down the lane, avoiding the deeper potholes, and sticking to the grass hillock in the middle as much as possible. The lane was barely used other than by the farmers further on, the small two up two down used to belong to a row, before the other three got demolished, a mineshaft opening up and taking down the foundations of the first two, and the third perilous. The lane was barely maintained, with the farmers having tractors and farm vehicles, and Gran not having anything at all.

She could hear mutterings behind her, and a yelp as one of them must’ve stepped in a puddle misjudging its depth, a rookie mistake. She had to wait at the small crossroads, listening at the blind bend to make sure she wasn’t going to step into anything, before nipping across and winding her way up the long lane that ran up to the top of the village. Always a bloody slog, and her chest burned by the time she reached the highest point, pausing to look out across the fields, enjoying the sight as she did every time. Give her rolling hills, stone walls, and copses any time of the year.

“Merlin, Bulstrode, you trying to kill us?” Weasley boy junior cursed, wheezing in a way the eldest two weren’t. The other three looked red-cheeked and Weasley girl had passed red to pale.

“Yeah, my evil plan, lure you out into the middle of nowhere, force you to follow me up a hill,” Millicent grinned. “Glad it’s working.”

“We’ve reached the top,” Ministry Weasley had hold of Girl Weasley’s hand.

“Sort of,” Millicent chirped. “We need to go down now, but there’s another bit of a hill to get to the Church.”

She caught a flicker of amusement from one of the oldest Weasleys as Weasley Junior made a noise like Mopsy, before heading off now she’d caught her breath. The lanes were better, and there was even a footpath running down, covered in leaves, and she didn’t trust it at all, but still a footpath that she stepped on to the couple of times a car pulled past.

“Millicent love, your Gran left her Tupperware at the hall, mind taking it back?” Irene Smith, Gran’s best friend appeared out of her house, in her dressing gown.

“Will do. Merry Christmas, Mrs Smith,” Millicent gave her a cheery wave.

“You best be watching yourself on the path too, Dot slid halfway down the other morning,” Irene warned, heading back inside.

“Yes Mrs Smith,” Millicent acknowledged. The image amused her, Dot was Mrs Smith’s elderly cat, and she could well imagine the cat doing it deliberately to avoid walking.

The village hall also had the benefit of being at the very bottom of the village, and any other day she might curse having to do all of the hills in one go, the idea of actually bumping off Stalker Weasley was too much to pass up. Even if Mopsy could just summon the Tupperware back.

She greeted another couple of Gran’s friends who happened to pop out just as she was walking past, with the gaggle of Weasley’s getting wary looks as they passed on messages to take back to Gran.

The climb up to the Church was far gentler than the steep pull into the village, with rails for the older folks to hold on to as they toddled up slowly, she could hear at least one hand on them and she could guess it’d be Stalker and Girl Weasley.

“Pretty Church,” one of the older ones pulled up beside her, and she nodded. It was a very pretty church.

“Norman, you should hear the bells,” Millicent opened the latch and led them through the small arch down the pretty stone path that got lethal when it got icy, past the small animal remembrance garden to the main door. The view from the South side of the Church was even better than that from the top of the village. The aqueduct glistened in the distance, the outcrop of rock white against the backdrop of green and black silhouetted trees, and the small farms that looked like stones in a field.

The Vicarage attached to the Church was hidden behind a wall of trees next to the small graveyard where her family lay.

The door slid open, and she shoved her hands into her pockets, the chill damp hitting immediately. Candles flickered by the altar, and the Bibles were in place, waiting for evening service. She wasn’t followed inside, for which she was faintly grateful. A ten pence piece in the box, and she lit a tea light for her Dad. Normally she’d spend a bit of time sitting in the space, reading through the notices, for the bits that Gran didn’t think she needed to know.

“I’ll be a minute,” Millicent said, passing the Weasley brood to head down to see her Dad. Gran had been recently, unsurprisingly, his grave had fresh pansies on them, and the ground was weed and leaf free.

“Alright Dad,” Millicent knelt, ignoring the damp knees from the grass. “Got lots to tell you but no time now, you probably know anyway. Bet you’ll be laughing yourself silly, I know I’m doing my best not to. I’ve been working hard, trying to keep my head down and out of trouble, but Gran says I take after you too much.”

She paused, touching the stone. “I think you’d like Mopsy, she’s a terror like me, but a good one. I’ll be back to fill you in properly, I’ll bring her.” She bit her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the ground. “Love you. Bye, Dad.”

A quick rubbing at her face while her back was turned to the Church, scrubbing away any signs of her tears, she headed back up, only to spot what could only be the Vicar in conversation with the gaggle.

He wasn’t young. Well not in comparison to Millicent. Compared to the last Vicar, who Millicent guessed died of ancient age having passed old decades before Millicent was even born, he classed as young.

“Morning Vicar,” Millicent greeted with a smile. “I’m Mrs Johnson’s granddaughter, Millicent.”

He had the bushiest eyebrows since well, the last Vicar. Maybe the Church had some sort of appearance mandate. Impressive sideburns too, and glasses that barely stayed on his nose.

“Ah, the one with the anger issues,” he noted, and Millicent nodded merrily.

“That’s the one, Vicar.”

“Unsurprising, sending young girls off to live away from their families for most of the year, and these young people were telling me, not even a Church for guidance,” the Vicar ruffled his robes. “I’ll be talking to Mrs Johnson about seeing if we can get you home.”

“I’m almost done now Vicar,” Millicent grinned. “I was wondering if the key to the Village Hall is still in the same place? Vicar Chawleigh liked to keep it down in the flowerpot next to the front door.”

He gave her a narrowed look, before casting his eye over the gaggle of redheads. “And for why would you need to be going to the Village Hall? There will be no parties happening.”

“Mrs Smith asked me to collect Gran’s Tupperware, I’ll be in and out, I promise,” Millicent gave him the brownie salute, and he pondered.

“I’ll be driving down in an hour,” he warned. “The key is under the pot on the windowsill now.”

“Thank you, Vicar,” Millicent started to head off, only to stop as he started to speak.

“You’ll be coming to the Service? All of you?”

“I’ll be coming with Gran, these are just visiting,” Millicent answered.

“There’s always room for more,” the Vicar gave them a suspicious look.

“Out of towners, Vicar, they’ll not be converting to the good Lord here,” Millicent gave him her best polite smile. “Well best be getting off, so we’re out of your hair.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but didn’t, as the fairly quiet redheads followed her out.

“Did he try and convert you?” She asked idly, as they wound down the hill back towards the Village Hall.

“He was telling us about the Church’s history,” Ministry Weasley answered, Girl Weasley now hanging off Twin Weasley’s arms while the Eldest two hung at the back, fags in hand. Stalker Weasley somehow was even further back.

“Did he ask for a donation?”

“He might have mentioned that there was a fundraiser for a new roof,” Ministry Weasley said with a dry look.

“There’s always a fundraiser for something,” Millicent nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever been and we’ve not been working our way towards something or other. One year it was to get all the fences painted. Then they made us do it. And by us, I mean everyone who wasn’t retired or dead.”

“Older demographic?” Ministry Weasley asked.

“I think only the Vicar goes for the religious bit, everyone else sees it as a social event,” Millicent grinned. “Between the Church and the Village Hall, there is nothing else bar the little shop we passed. Still, we do have our own Vicar, other places have to share theirs with other villages. Some even have to share with three or four. It’s quite a coup, if you’re into all that. Want to make Gran happy though, compliment the Church.”

He gave a look. “Why?”

“Because she leaves the house for one of only three reasons most of the time.”

“Why would you offer a way to make your Gran happy?” He asked again.

“Because,” Millicent shrugged. He watched her silently. “I don’t know why you’re all here, or why Stalker Weasley and Bad Boy Potter have suddenly become obsessed, and I don’t want to know. But it’s not Gran’s fault, and I owe you.”

“Owe me?” He frowned.

“I overheard you trying to teach firsties how to do essays, back when I was one, and it helped. None of our lot said anything to me, and the teachers didn’t, but you did,” Millicent rolled her shoulders feeling uncomfortable. “It would’ve taken me months to learn how to get better grades, and Gran really would’ve considered taking me out if I’d not had good enough results.”

He blinked. “I didn’t see any Slytherin kids listening.”

“I was taller than half the third years, and I know how to look like I’m not paying attention,” she grinned. “I made notes and tried it. I went from a P to an A with my first assignment turned in. I hit EE’s and O’s regularly now. And it helped for doing coursework for my GCSEs. My predicted grades are A’s and B’s. Not saying it’s all because of you though, but I acknowledge I owe you something. So, compliment the Church and Gran will soften.”

“Bill taught me,” Ministry Weasley offered.

“Bill?” Millicent glanced at him.

“Bill,” Ministry Weasley called, and one of the eldest Weasleys looked up, his cigarette disappearing into his pocket, while the other took a drag and did the same.

“What’s up Percy,” he asked good-naturedly, easily catching up, with the other following closely behind.

“Miss Bulstrode,”

“Millicent,” Millicent offered.

“Millicent,” Percy said it as if it was an unusual thing. “Thanked me for teaching her to write essays, I told her I was taught how to do them by you.”

She considered debating if she’d actually thanked him, she’d repaid the debt, not quite the same, but she doubted the nuances would be enough for her to win. So she didn’t bother.

He looked pleased though, Bill did. “Mum taught me. Charlie got my first version of it.”

“How many times did Percy make you write them out?” Charlie asked curiously. “Bill told me four times. Mum had to heal my wrists that first year.”

“Bullet points, first draft, second draft and a once over the day after to catch any errant errors,” Millicent dutifully recited. He’d not said bullet points, using list instead, but she liked the thick dots and crossing them out once she’d used them.

There was more to it, the referencing, the making sure the task was written out in full exactly as it had been on the board including grammar. Using dictionaries to check the meanings of words she was unsure of, saved her more than once. Making sure she didn’t do too much and kept on point.

“Mum’ll be pleased it’s being passed on,” Bill smiled at her, and she felt her cheeks heat. Mopsy might’ve been right, after all, wasn’t that a scary thought?

“Uh, you might want to wait in the car park, Vicar won’t be long,” Millicent decided it was skating too far into friendly territory, and picked up the pace as the Village Hall came into view.

She could hear Stalker Weasley complain about his feet, and Girl Weasley asking for a piggyback ride from her older brothers, as Millicent deftly slid the key into the door, and skipped in, heading straight for the kitchen. A string bag full of Tupperware and a note with spidery handing writing with Julia, confirming it was Gran’s.

It was not a surprise to see the Vicar pull up as she got back to the front door, “Would you mind if we used the bathroom, Vicar?” she checked. She wasn’t sure about the others but Girl Weasley looked uncomfortable.

“Not all at once,” he pursed his lips.

“Of course not Vicar,” she nodded. “Girls and then boys, or girls, younger boys and then older boys?”

“Ginny?” Charlie gestured to Millicent. “Millicent will look after you.”

Ginny looked dubious about that, and Millicent wasn’t overly keen on the idea but held the door open anyway and guided her to the freezing female toilets regardless. “The water’s cold and the flush is powerful.”

Millicent was done before Ginny, stuffing tissues into her pockets for the climb back up, as Ginny squeaked when the cold water hit her hands. Glaring at Millicent as if she’d not warned her.

They’d clearly organised themselves in a manner that had the Vicar happier, as Bill went in with the Twins first, with Stalker, Charlie and Percy heading in immediately afterwards, the Vicar waiting in the entranceway.

“Thank you, Vicar,” Millicent handed over the key.

He pursed his lips before nodding.

She clearly felt kind, as she heard herself offering to make it a bit easier for them. “We can go back the way we came, or go a different way.”

“The difference?” Bill asked as Ginny clambered onto Charlie’s back.

“It’s along the main road, we’ll need to stick to the pavement, but it’s flat with only a small hill, as we come on to the lane leading back home,” Millicent answered. “It’s also half as long as the other way.”

Stalker Weasley glared at her like she’d forced him to come on a walk. “I told you I was going to the Church, you didn’t need to come.”

“Perhaps the shorter way? Charlie’s the only one who walks this much normally,” Bill gave a pleasant smile.

“How come?” Millicent asked.

“I work in Bulgaria at the Dragon Reserve,” Charlie answered. “Lots of walking, we try and keep other means down to emergencies only, I thought I’d walked my legs to stumps the first year.”

“How did you get into it?” Millicent asked, trying to dampen down her excitement.

“Worked hard, did a lot of begging, a lot of begging, got decent grades, and broke Mum’s heart,” Charlie answered with a grin.

“I don’t think Gran would forgive me if I left the country,” Millicent felt the words come out.

“Need a lift?” a dirty landrover pulled up next to them, and Mr Hendry wound the window down.

“Could you take some of our visitors home?” Millicent asked, with a quick look at Ginny and Stalker. “Their parents are talking with Gran and these made the mistake of following me.”

“Surprised you’ve not hit the bracken then,” he said with a laugh. “Jump in, I’ve room for four, five with a squeeze. And mind Betsy, she’s gone under the seats.”

“You should,” Millicent said, opening the back door, and petting the black nose that poked out. “It’s not as far but still another forty-minute walk. Save your legs and back.”

Stalker, Charlie, Ginny and the twins managed to squeeze in, “You’ll be alright pet?” Mr Hendry checked.

“If I get worried I’ll lead them over the bog and leave them there,” she grinned, and he laughed. He drove off with a cheery pip of his horn, and Millicent shoved her hands back in her pockets.

“You can just magic back if you like,” she offered.

“Best not,” Bill answered. “They’ll wonder what we’ve done with you.”

“Fair enough, you’ve got decent enough footwear on, fancy going off the beaten track?” She asked, checking their shoes. Boots like hers, bigger, but just as worn.

“Through the bog?” Bill asked lightly.

“There is no bog, or not until we get nearer Gran’s and with your stride you could cross it and not notice. We can go through some fields, up over the hill, and be back within twenty minutes,” Millicent glanced at the sky. “You’ve not got coats, and it will throw it down any minute now.”

She pointed out way signs, and bits of gossip attached to the owners of the fields, and not laughing as both men slid over a stile, not watching their feet placement as well as they should. Even holding her hand out so Percy could hop across a particularly deep puddle, with Bill grabbing Percy’s hand as he did the same.

“This is a good egg-rolling hill,” Millicent commented as they got to the top. “And you can see Gran’s from here, just over the trees.”

“It really is quicker,” Bill panted, his hands on his legs as he bent over to spit. Percy didn’t look any better, and Millicent’s heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Yep, harder though, you don’t have the firm pavement, it’s pretty muddy and uneven, to stop the ramblers,” Millicent managed to say without losing her breath again.

“Get many?” Percy asked, coughing as he breathed in deeply, Millicent wasn’t sure if it would be rain they’d be hit with but snow, the air icy cold.

“Not this side so much, we’re not on the way to anywhere in particular, the other side of the Village Hall, you can walk to the Crevice, and the Aqueduct, and if you carry on, to an old Abbey. Some like to just go wherever though.” Millicent waved at the stone wall leading down the hill. “We can go that way, or we can cut across and down, it’s a bit steeper here, but we’ll be down faster. Other way we might have to say hello to Old Mr Farra.”

“Faster?” Bill checked with Percy who nodded.

“Grounds not muddy but it’s stony,” Millicent warned, leading the way and half-running down, having long since learned that the only way was to go for it. The other two followed more sedately, but she was still impressed. Only two bottom drops, when the wall suddenly gave way to a bit of a ditch. Millicent jumped it, but she also knew it was there, and had spent many hours taking running jumps in summer doing so.

All three of them were mud-splattered as they entered the house, Millicent pulling off her boots and leaving them just outside. “We’re back Gran.”

“The young ones are in the kitchen,” Gran called. “You didn’t take long, Joe’s not long dropped them off.”

“We were just quick Gran,” Millicent bobbed her head in the receiving room, to see Gran looking much more relaxed, with a big pot of tea on the coffee table, and Mrs Weasley had the embroidery loop on her lap, and the radio was on.

“Quick?” Gran gave her a fond look.

“Didn’t go on the moors,” Millicent popped in properly to kiss her on the cheek. “And I returned all of them safe and sound, if a bit muddy.”

“Good girl,” Gran picked the hat off her head. “And you got my Tupperware.”

“And I got your Tupperware. We even met the new Vicar, I see what you mean, he is young, and has very strange ideas,” Millicent teased gently.

“He thinks I should be moving into the Village,” Gran huffed.

“Ah well, I’m sure the Village will sort him out soon enough,” Millicent grinned, dropping her voice. “Mopsy left you alone?”

Mrs Weasley answered for Gran, “Mopsy is showing Arthur her Greenhouse after she brushed Ginny’s hair.”

“Mopsy likes brushing hair,” Millicent nodded. “Do you need anything, Gran? Mrs Weasley?”

“No thank you dear, Mopsy’s looked after us,” Gran patted her hand. “You go join the young ones in the kitchen.”

“Yes Gran,” Millicent gave her another kiss on the cheek and wandered through, putting the Tupperware next to the sink ready to be rewashed. Ginny was sporting a new hairstyle, and the boys and men were huddled with mugs in hand.

“How was it?” Millicent asked casually. Joe liked to speed.

“Terrifying,” Charlie answered with a smile. “I bounced more than I did on the Knight Bus.”

“Your elf is nuts,” Stalker Weasley stared at her. Millicent grinned.

“She’s just passionate,” Millicent glanced out the window. “And she’s not my elf, I’m more her witch.”

“She brushed my hair,” Ginny touched it. “She didn’t pull at all.”

“She’s good like that, she used to brush her little Miss’s hair before they tossed her out to Hogwarts,” Millicent softened to a smile. “She hates it there. Just be glad she didn’t make you have a bath.”

There was a fairly uncomfortable silence, and Millicent hopped up onto the side, an eye on the window and half an ear out for Gran, ready to slip off at the merest hint. Her sock-covered feet gently banging on the cupboards, while she tapped her fingers on her mug. “There’s cards, Muggle ones, but I can fleece you at Bridge and Whist. Or if you really hate yourselves, we’ve got dominoes.”

“Chess?” Stalker Weasley asked.

“We’ve a board, half the pieces are in Miss Oliviette the Seventh's nests though, she likes to carry the pieces around. Should be checkers though, there’s a jigsaw puzzle of a Readers Digest picture if you’re going to be here that long,” Millicent gestured to the small pile. “Although, how long are you here for? Not that I care, but I missed lunch and we’re nearing the end of receiving hours for the day.”

There seemed to be a shrug.

“Gran? I missed lunch,” Millicent called. “Which means the visitors did too.”

“Get some cake out, and a bit of that ham, and ask Mopsy to cut the bread, she’s better at it than you are,” Gran answered.

“Are they staying for tea?”

There was a pause.

“We’re going to the Weasleys for tea, pet,” Gran answered and Millicent groaned. “I heard that. Tell Mopsy for me, love.”

“Games will have to wait,” Millicent muttered, shuffling to the back door. “Mopsy we’re going to the Weasley’s for tea, but Gran wants you to cut the bread, she says you do it better.”

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy popped in front of her. “Respectable ladies don’t have mud on their clothes. Mopsy will be sorting afternoon teas while Miss Millicent changes, and Miss Ginny could learn a thing or two too.”

Ginny looked outraged. “Mopsy be seeing mud on Miss Ginny, Mopsy be thinking young ladies be bathing before food.”

“Sadly Mopsy, Ginny hasn’t brought any clean clothes, and it’d be rude to have a bath while everyone waits to eat,” Millicent knelt in front of her. “So how about I change, and have a wash, and then no one has to wait very long? Can’t you hear the stomachs growling?”

“Mopsy does, but bad boys get sent to bed without supper,” Mopsy stamped her foot.

“But it’s really lunch, not supper, and they already have parents,” Millicent sighed sadly. “Compromise, Ginny comes and washes too?”

Mopsy scowled at the boys, but not so much the Weasley men, and nodded. “Bad boys can get crusts.”

“Quite right,” Millicent patted her gently on the back. “Gran said cake and ham, maybe some chutney? And the pickled onions?”

Mopsy started to frown again. “I promise I won’t eat more than anyone else.”

“Mopsy be telling Miss Millicent respectable young Misses don’t eat pickled onions.”

“I’m a work in progress,” Millicent kissed her on the cheek, laughing as she squeaked in joyous outrage.

Chapter Text

“Ron said you were a bully,” Ginny gave her the side eye while they shared Millicent’s extravagantly small bedroom. Miss Oliviette sprawled across the bed fast asleep, even after the girls entered the room.

“Ron’s the one in my year right?” Millicent checked, scrubbing at her face with a washcloth, she’d checked in the toilets at the Village Hall, so it must’ve been running down the hill or scrambling over stiles.

“Yeah,” Ginny flopped onto her bed. “My feet are killing me.”

“Yep,” Millicent gave her a wink. “What happens when you have to walk everywhere. You should be used to it up in the tower.”

“It’s a different type of walking,” Ginny huffed dramatically. “And we get breaks all the time.”

“You should try patrolling for three hours at a time,” Millicent hissed as a chunk of mud came away with a fresh scab. Mopsy would go demented. “I’ll be honest, we went slowly today, I’ve not been out since I got back. Come back in Summer, and I’ll be taking you on 12 mile hikes out to the reservoir.”

Ginny stared at her in horror.

“Well not much else to do, it’s walking, helping Gran, and doing odd jobs round the village,” Millicent licked her finger and dabbed it to try and stop the bleeding, with any luck and a readjustment of her hair she could mask it.

“And it’s not like I walk the 12 miles back, there's a bus that drops you down by the Village Hall,” Millicent confessed. It still took a while, having to follow the roads rather than as the crow flies.

“Hermione said you were a brute,” Ginny told her. “You’re good with Mopsy though. And you were nice enough to get us a lift back, even if Ron thought you were trying to kill us.”

“Hermione?” Millicent checked.

“Granger,” Ginny did a weird hand movement around her hair. “Friends with Ron and Harry Potter.”

“I did put her in a headlock,” Millicent shrugged. Which Gran said was probably unsporting of her if Granger wasn’t the same size as Millicent.

“You really don’t know their names?” Ginny asked, her fingers hovering over the two yo-yos but not touching.

“Did you know mine until recently?” Millicent asked dryly. Ginny pulled a face before shrugging.

“It’s all we hear at the moment,” Ginny half-heartedly glared at her.

“Not my fault,” Millicent didn’t take offence, grabbing a warm sweater dress from the wardrobe and tugging it over her head letting the jeans fall to the floor after kicking them off. The tights looked to be untouched by the adventure, even if the socks looked incongruous on top of them.

“Don’t you want to know why we’re here?” Ginny asked chewing on her lip.

“Not without Gran or Mopsy,” Millicent answered. “You might want to wash your neck again, you must’ve brushed against the seatbelt wrong.”

“Miss Millicent looks so much better now,” Mopsy clapped her hands happily when she returned, genteelly to the kitchen.

“I thought I looked alright in my jeans, but thanks Mopsy,” Millicent teased. She ignored Ron’s sick face and ignored Charlie thumping him for it too.

Ginny appeared shortly after, having scrubbed the oil mark off from her neck, and Mopsy made a happy noise. “Miss Julia the young ladies are ready for afternoon tea.”

Charlie smacked one of the twins while Bill got the other, the food suddenly filling the table, and Millicent said thank you to Mopsy quietly. There was more food than there should’ve been, but she wasn’t going to ask. They waited long enough for Gran and Mrs Weasley to get a plate before the ravening happened. Millicent admitted to liking her food, but the speed in which the piles went down was impressive, as was the reasonably good manners displayed by the youngest males. She’d seen Ron eating at Hogwarts and had expected something similar.

“Miss Julia would likes seconds?” Mopsy bobbed as there was a pause with empty plates on most of the Weasley side, Millicent’s almost bare.

“I’m tea and cake logged,” Gran answered, “Let the young ones eat. They’ve done plenty this morning.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent uttered, with a round of “Thank yous,” from the others joining her.

“What well-behaved children they are,” Gran said to Mrs Weasley who had a fond look in her eyes.

“Bad boys,” Mopsy mumbled, and Gran put a soothing hand on her arm. “Maybe they be learning.”

A singular slice of cake was left, for Gran, the rest of the food finished with appreciative noises and compliments to both Gran and Mopsy, who looked flushed with pleasure, her hands stroking her ears as she leaned against Millicent’s legs.

“William will return to bring you over for tea, we’ll aim to eat for seven,” Mrs Weasley addressed Gran and Mopsy both. “Professor Snape has confirmed he will be able to attend.”

“The boys will be happy to share if you’d like to stay the night,” Mr Weasley offered. “And Ginny, of course, Millicent.”

“Mopsy can be bringing everyone home,” Mopsy said seriously.

“We’ll have a think,” Gran answered, and Mopsy got a slightly mulish look.

“Is there a safe place to leave?” Mrs Weasley asked Millicent.

“You can from here, save you going back out in it,” Millicent answered, the snow had been falling for a good half hour already.

Mopsy waited until the last Weasley left, before starting to clean up, choosing to do it the longer way, including banging. If Millicent had banged that much everything would’ve been a broken mess, Elf magic was something else. “Miss Julia sleeps better in her own bed.”

Gran gave Millicent a look as if Mopsy listened to Millicent when they both knew Gran had a much better success rate than Millicent did. She tried regardless. “Gran can sleep anywhere, Mopsy.”

“Miss Millicent should be sleeping in her own bed,” Mopsy wailed. “Where Mopsy can protect her from bad boys.”

“I can sleep standing upright in a barn,” Millicent rolled her eyes when Mopsy wasn’t looking. “And I went out with the bad boys earlier and nothing happened.”

“The Weasleys seemed perfectly nice,” Gran added. “Molly knows her way around a lemon drizzle cake, we were comparing recipes, and she has some good workarounds for when the butter runs out.”

“Mopsy has better recipe,” Mopsy sulked, and then wailed apologising. “Miss Julia’s recipe best recipe.”

“Gran’s is good, but you should taste Mrs Smith’s, Gran’s been on at her forever to share what she does,” Millicent confided, and Mopsy got a gleam in her eye. “Probably shouldn’t steal it though.”

“Mopsy wouldn’t steal,” Mopsy gave them both a sulky look. “Mopsy look.”

“Gran?” Millicent asked after half an hour of convincing Mopsy that Gran was happy just continuing to ask her friend.

“Yes love?”

“Do we know why they came to visit?”

“A debt of some sort, Professor Snape’s coming to fill in the details. They tried to explain it, but I will be honest dear, it didn’t make any sense, and Mopsy was very protective. So Molly wrote to Professor Snape, and Mopsy risked everything to take it to him,” Gran sounded amused.

“Bad parents shouldn’t be left alone with Miss Julia,” Mopsy wailed again.

“I don’t think the Weasleys would do anything to Gran, to be fair,” Millicent gave them the benefit of the doubt, not that it seemed to matter.

“They also wanted to try and ease some communication between you and,” Gran mouthed “that boy.”

She’d completely forgotten about Potter, and Gran gave her a sympathetic smile. “Not to force anything, but ease it if there is any desire to do so. Think about it pet, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Take Mopsy first, and Mopsy brings Miss Julia and Miss Millicent,” Mopsy instructed Bill sternly as he knocked politely at the front door. They’d watched him appear outside of the kitchen, before walking around to the front of the house, it made Mopsy happy.

Gran went first, without their overnight bag, as Mopsy had promised if they did stay the night, and she wasn’t happy about the idea at all, Mopsy would bring their things. It was the best compromise they could come to, and Millicent was as tired as Gran by the end of it. Bill was no help whatsoever, seemingly keeping out of any arguments.

Gran confessed she found Mopsy far more gentle to travel with than either of the professors, Millicent hadn’t noticed much difference barring the noise with Professor Snape, but her bones were in a better state than Gran’s.

Millicent didn’t know what she was expecting from the Weasley home, in the same way she suspected they hadn’t known what to expect from hers. Or perhaps they were thinking Gran’s would be a posh townhouse or small estate like half of Slytherin. The Burrow was so Christmasy that it almost blew her eyes out.

There were decorations up everywhere, with pictures of the family, and the noise. It was like being back at Hogwarts the steady thrum of conversations. Gran was already settled in a comfortable seat, with a small blanket draped over her lap, a mug of tea on a small table, and a plate of biscuits.

Mopsy tutted and rearranged the blanket so it fell more demurely, in case anyone got ideas about Gran’s ankles. Millicent was fairly sure none of the Weasley lot were Granny chasers, but one never knew.

Professor Snape had already arrived and was deep in conversation with Mr Weasley, and the twins were busy asking questions casually.

“Millicent dear, take a seat, or you can go join Ginny in the kitchen, Bill’s with Charlie and Percy discussing work things in the garden. Ron’s somewhere,” Mrs Weasley blasted her with choices, and as Gran looked happy enough, Millicent chose to explore instead.

Ginny was busy sticking cloves into an orange, looking furious. “Mum made me have a bath when we got back.”

“I had to have one too,” Millicent commented. “My second today.”

“She didn’t make the boys,” Ginny groused.

“It’s Mopsy,” Millicent agreed. “She has the ability to convince people girls need multiple baths a day.”

“Mum pulls my hair,” Ginny pouted. “Mopsy didn’t.”

“Mopsy is the best,” Millicent hummed. “Best not question it too much.”

Ginny gave her a look, and Millicent let her work it through. Everyone heard about Malfoy losing an elf thanks to Malfoy’s extremely public breakdown. Millicent wouldn’t have been surprised if punishments hadn’t been high up on Granger’s agenda with her elf rescue scheme. Ginny blanched and looked through the door to where Mopsy was perched next to Gran chirping away to her.

“They tossed her out,” Millicent repeated what she’d said earlier in Gran’s kitchen. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you know who?” Ginny whispered.

“Best not to ask,” Millicent said placidly. “She’s a Hogwarts elf now.”

“She’s your elf, or yours and your Gran’s,” Ginny said.

“Technically she’s still bound to Hogwarts,” Millicent replied. “Probably best not to mention that either.”

“Want to go find the others?” Ginny asked after a minute, clearly chewing over something unpleasant, the orange rolling across the table to join a pile of them.

“Can do,” Millicent shrugged.

It wasn’t a huge surprise to spot lit cigarettes in the almost blue-black night, they were definitely further down the country, no snow and the sky was clear, not as many stars as she’d see at home either.

“Mum let you out?” Charlie asked, looking at Ginny and not Millicent, hiding the cig behind his hand as if they’d not spotted it.

Ginny glared at him, and the three men laughed at her. “I still don’t see why you get away with it.”

“We,” Bill nodded to Percy, “Went for a wash when we got back.”

“I had a wash at Millicent’s,” Ginny scowled. “I’ll tell Mum on you.”

“She already knows,” Charlie took a quick drag. “I’m an adult, I can if I want to.”

“Can we swap?” Ginny asked Millicent.

“Swap?”

“I’ll live with your Gran and Mopsy, and you can live here,” Ginny scowled at her brothers. “They swan in and out and Mum dotes on them, and I have to do everything.”

“I’m good,” Millicent answered, hopping up onto the wall before realising she had a bloody dress on. “You can do cleaning charms right?” She asked the three men, who all nodded. “Brill, Mopsy will kill me if she spots mud on this dress.”

“The Burrow’s nice, bit Christmassy though,” Millicent decided to change the topic before Ginny stepped on Millicent’s feelings and Millicent was forced to react. She was fairly sure they’d object to her smushing her face in dirt. Maybe the Vicar and Gran had a point about anger issues.

“The village wasn’t, or the Church,” Bill answered.

“Not until Christmas Eve, and then it all comes down on the 6th. The very old-fashioned don’t until Christmas Day, but there was a big meeting back while Victoria was on the throne, and it was decided that Christmas Eve was acceptable to start thinking about celebrating. If you visit again, you should ask to see the Church and Village records. All sorts of gossip hidden in dry prose,” Millicent shrugged. “We’ve a tree up in the loft, but Mopsy said she’s going to dress the house on Christmas morning as a present to us. I should probably warn Professor Snape.”

They looked puzzled.

“She’s still a Hogwarts elf, and we’re fairly sure she’s been taking stuff from Hogwarts. I wouldn’t put it past her to take a tree, the house isn’t big enough for the one in the Hall though,” Millicent answered dryly. “Mopsy’s very liberal with what’s Hogwarts and isn’t.”

Charlie snorted, sending clouds of smoke into the air.

“Ron’s stupid,” Ginny said, after giggling herself into a puddle. “He said you had rocks for brains.”

“Ginny!” Bill reprimanded her, and Millicent just shrugged.

“Heard worse.” Her fingers twitched, and she couldn’t help but look at the lit cig.

“Want one?” Charlie asked as Percy pulled one out of the packet.

“Gran would make me smoke all of them until I was sick,” Millicent groaned. “I don’t even want to know what Mopsy’s thoughts on smoking are.”

Bill did something and produced a long black stick, and waved it at them, with Charlie and Percy snickering. Ginny looked as confused as Millicent felt until a cigarette was placed into the end and he affected a pose, the long stick falling elegantly between his fingers.

“Missing gloves,” Percy pulled out a pair of woolly gloves and tossed them over.

“And a hat, she keeps wanting me to wear a hat in the house,” Millicent drew an air huge brimmed hat around her hair.

“Mum likes her,” Bill laughed, snagging the cigarette from the stick and lighting it. “Wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t have more manners needed at dinner again.”

“Don’t wish that on us,” Ginny whined.

“It’s not so bad,” Millicent wriggled a bit further back on the wall, enjoying the quiet night sky. “You adjust, just like being anywhere new really.”

They were called in not long after, with Bill offering a hand as Millicent struggled to get down without ripping the back of her dress. “Do you mind?” She gestured to the streak of muddy brick dust down her leg, and he waved his wand.

Ginny tramped in hanging off Percy, complaining about all sorts, Millicent walking in between the two men, feeling for once like she wasn’t the tallest person in the place. Not that she towered over the Professor either, but she had to tilt her head just a little to meet Charlie and Bill’s eyes while they weren’t slouched.

The table was set, full of festive cheer, with Gran already near the head of the table, Professor Snape opposite, and Mrs Weasley next to her. Mr Weasley took the head of the table, and Ginny skipped to the far end.

“Miss Millicent be sitting here,” Mopsy instructed, pointing to the seat next to Gran. “Miss Millicent being helped into the chair.”

Bill stepped into the bullet and pulled the chair out for her, even as Millicent grumbled under her breath. Thankfully Mopsy ignored it to go harass Ginny out of her chair until Charlie pulled it back out and slid it into place for Ginny who seemed to be torn between outrage and enjoying the attention.

“Nice man be sitting opposite Miss Millicent, and Head Boy Weasley be sitting next to Miss Millicent,” Mopsy dictated ignoring Millicent staring at Gran for help.

“Mopsy is sitting next to bad boys to make sure they behave,” Mopsy shooed one of the twins to the other side of her chair while glaring at Ron who was kicking his shoes against the table leg. “Bad boys not be kicking.”

“Mum!”

“Mopsy isn’t wrong, Ron, don’t make me come down there. Charlie love, sort your brother out,” Mrs Weasley chided.

“Shall we say Grace?” Mr Weasley asked a bit confused, looking at Gran as Professor Snape rolled his eyes.

“We don’t,” Gran answered, “If you do, we will, won’t we love.”

There was a pause as Mr Weasley looked at Mrs Weasley, who clapped her hands together. “Everyone tuck in.”

“You haven’t been expelled,” the Professor announced after the meal was finished, the visitors being shooed into the living room along with Mopsy who’d started to clean.

“How much trouble am I in?” She checked, Gran was near passed out having drunk more than one sherry and eaten well. The lap blanket, the fire, the sherry and the overall excitement of the day had gotten to her.

“The Deputy Headmistress was not best pleased to be accused of not caring for her students,” he drawled. “Nor was the Headmaster for the cursing, informing Potter he was anything but special, and accusing the Headmaster of turning the school into a training ground while not doing anything well. I have ignored the comments regarding age, do not think the Deputy Headmistress has.”

Millicent gave Gran a quick look, before grinning. “I don’t think I was wrong.”

“Perhaps only in that I don’t think you’ll be soon forgotten,” he answered dryly.

“How about Mopsy?” Millicent asked quietly, Mopsy was catnapping under the guise of closing her eyes to protect herself from the glare of the decorations. The soft little snores weren’t fooling Millicent.

“The Headmaster isn’t sure how to proceed,” Snape paused. “Personal elves are not permitted at Hogwarts, however,”

“She’s still a Hogwarts elf,” Millicent pointed out quickly, and he looked exasperated.

“Quite. There are no current rules we’ve discovered so far, regarding former Hogwarts elves, as they are entwined with the Schools magic, it’s causing him quite the headache.”

“Oh no,” Millicent clasped a hand to her chest, apologising as he gave her a stern look.

“He is still the Headmaster, and until you complete your education, somewhat deserving of your respect.”

“Yes Sir,” Millicent agreed.

“Will your Grandmother be able to take part in the conversation?” He asked, politely ignoring both Gran and Mopsy both of whom were snoring quite loudly.

“How many sherries?” Millicent asked plainly.

“Four,” Mrs Weasley crept in.

“No,” Millicent answered the Professor. “Sorry Sir, it’s been a long day. Mopsy had us up early and Gran’s not as young as she used to be.”

“Sorry Severus, I didn’t think,” Mrs Weasley apologised.

“Miss Bulstrode if it is explained to you -” he stopped himself, and then looked resigned. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Sherry and chocolate make Gran really ill, she won’t be fit until the afternoon Sir,” Millicent apologised again.

He took a deep breath, and Mrs Weasley looked terribly upset. “It’s not your fault, Gran does know. She’s not a child. Mopsy will look after her, but maybe we could get a lift home? Mopsy wouldn’t let us bring our things and it’s not fair for you to look after us when she’s not well.”

“William will go and collect them,” Mrs Weasley patted her hand. “The rooms are all set up, in case you decided to stay. We can’t leave you to look after them by yourself, you’re only a girl.”

“I’m fifteen!” Millicent blushed at the tone. “Sorry Mrs Weasley. Thank you, I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“Not a bother at all,” Mrs Weasley patted her on the cheek, bustling off.

The Professor shook his head. “Until the morning, Miss Bulstrode. The Weasley’s maybe Gryffindor’s but they can be trusted. If you have need of me, you have permission to send your elf.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Mr Weasley carried both Mopsy and Gran up to the room with the lightest touch, that had Millicent baffled.

“Plenty of experience,” Mrs Weasley answered her unspoken question. “Will Mopsy be better with your or your Gran?”

“Probably Gran, she’s going to be rough tonight,” Millicent apologised.

“Don’t worry dear, we’ve had far worse from our brood,” Mrs Weasley patted her on the hand. “Would you like to stay up or go to bed? Ginny’s not got long before bed, but you’re welcome to stay up until Ron heads up.”

“I might go now if that’s ok Mrs Weasley,” Millicent checked, Bill had dropped the bag off in Ginny’s room, before disappearing off to join the others in the kitchen where they seemed to be playing cards.

“You can call me Molly, and Mr Weasley is Arthur,” she gave her a hug, and Millicent squeezed back gently. “I’ll get Ginny to show you up, there’s fresh towels on the bed for you. If you need another pillow just ask, we’ve plenty, we have to buy in bulk the rate the boys get through them.”

Ginny’s room wasn’t much bigger than Millicent’s, covered in posters and pictures, the bed fitting the space with only enough room to shuffle down the side. “Want top end or bottom?” Ginny asked.

“I can sleep standing up, I don’t mind,” Millicent replied, shuffling her things down to the tail end, closer to the door as Ginny asked to have the top end.

“I might go to bed now too,” Ginny said cautiously. “Not that I don’t trust you, but it’s been a long day.”

Millicent bit back a yawn and nodded. “Mind if I use the bathroom first?”

It took them a minute for Millicent’s legs not to be in the way, Ginny’s not reaching Millicent’s head at all, while Millicent had to bend her knees not to kick the wall. Once they figured it out, they fell asleep quickly enough, Millicent only waking when Mopsy came in to stir her. Ginny was cuddling her legs.

Chapter Text

Mopsy got in trouble for taking Millicent home to have a bath without telling anyone, even Gran gave her a telling off. William had been sent to the school to let Professor Snape Millicent had disappeared, as they thought Mopsy was still in with Gran. It was only when he popped in to make sure after Professor Snape suggested that she might have returned home, and stumbled in on Millicent in a towel, that they knew where she was.

“I’m sorry,” Millicent apologised again. “I should’ve left a note.”

“Mopsy didn’t be telling Miss Millicent,” Mopsy wailed, and Millicent had been banned from offering her any comfort after she’d tried to step in front.

“Maybe we should be talking to the Headmaster,” Professor Snape looked livid.

“Sir, she didn’t mean it,” Millicent shut up at the glare.

“Mopsy bad elf, bad bad elf,” Mopsy wailed throwing herself on the floor.

“Enough Elf!” Professor Snape snapped. “You will not take Miss Bulstrode without her guardian’s permission, do I make myself clear?”

“Mopsy understands,” Mopsy trembled.

“You owe an apology to everyone here,” he hissed.

“Mopsy very sorry for worrying everyone,” Mopsy whispered. “Mopsy very sorry Mopsy upset Miss Julia and got Miss Millicent into trouble. Mopsy work hard at being good elf.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Gran informed her. “Professor Snape will be helping me keep an eye on the actions.”

Mopsy cowered against Millicent’s legs, with Professor Snape muttering under his breath.

“Perhaps we should all have a cup of tea, and some breakfast, and then talk about the issue Severus is here for,” Mrs Weasley said kindly, she’d given Millicent a tight hug when Bill brought them back. Millicent wasn’t used to other people than Gran being worried about her.

Mopsy shared Millicent’s seat, clinging on, as everyone seemed to forget about the incident. It made eating fairly difficult, as Millicent had to shuffle with one arm occupied keeping Mopsy from falling off and taking Millicent with her.

“Reminds me of when these were young,” Mrs Weasley commented with a small smile. “Ron never wanted to be put down.”

“Mum!” Ron squawked.

“Millicent was a little terror, you could never get her to sit still, always wanting to be outside,” Gran gave her a fond look. “Would not stop bringing farm cats back with her, it’s how we ended up with Oliviette One through Seven.”

“Charlie was the same, any lizard he could find ended up in the house,” Mrs Weasley gave her second eldest a loving look. “Used to scare Arthur silly sometimes.”

“Oliviette isn’t part kneasel?” Ginny asked.

“Farm cat, so a mix of true feral, and almost feral, but I found her as a kitten all by herself,” Millicent answered ignoring Gran and Mrs Weasley comparing stories of children’s antics. “I waited nearby all day, and when her mum didn’t come back, brought her home and bottle fed.”

“She’s very pretty,” Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron who got slapped for the sick noise he made.

“Yeah, she is,” Millicent agreed. “Has the same sort of attitude as well, you know that really pretty people get. Hard to not let her get away with it though. Probably why no bodies smacked Parkinson yet.”

“Parkinson?” Ginny asked, turning in her chair.

“Malfoy’s number one fan, rich, pretty, thin,” Millicent rolled her eyes, “Complete bitch, pureblood as well, can recite her dynasty back to the evolution of man type.”

Ginny pulled a face. “Malfoy’s a right idiot.”

“Yep,” Millicent agreed, moving Mopsy so she was perched on her thigh instead. “You should hear the skincare routine the pair of them have, it’d turn your stomach.”

“Miss Bulstrode,” Professor Snape’s voice cut across the table. “Please remember to have some house solidarity.”

She shrugged, before nodding as he continued to raise an eyebrow at her. “Sorry, what goes on in the common room stays in the common room.”

Ginny, and Ron both looked a bit disappointed about that. She might tell Ginny later if she got the chance.

Millicent offered to help clear the table, before being told to stay seated, Mrs Weasley waved a wand with everything disappearing to the sink and side, the table looking sparkling clean.

Professor Snape tapped his finger against the table, and everyone fell silent. “Miss Bulstrode, please can you explain why Mr Weasley the youngest, is in debt to you?”

“He isn’t,” Millicent answered as Mopsy squeaked.

“Bad boy is.”

Millicent could feel herself shrivel, “Mopsy?”

“Bad boy is in debt to Miss Millicent,” Mopsy whispered into Millicent’s ear. “Bad boy asked Miss Millicent to speak to High Inquisitor, and Miss Millicent did. Bad Boy broke promise to not bother Miss Millicent again.”

“I didn’t acknowledge any debt, that’s how it works!” Millicent wanted to slam her head on the table. “Honestly Sir, I didn’t do anything to get a debt. I know better. Honestly, I do.”

“Mopsy?” Professor Snape asked sternly.

“Mopsy be seeing all,” Mopsy nodded. “Mopsy be seeing Miss Millicent protect bad boys, and bad boys owings Miss Millicent.”

“I didn’t protect anyone,” Millicent promised.

“Miss Millicent lied to High Inquisitor,” Mopsy stopped whispering and started bouncing proudly. “Miss Millicent lied and protected bad boy, and helped bad boy with words.”

“I hate my life,” Millicent moaned as Professor Snape exhaled sharply. “It’s not like she’s saying, she’s just interpreting it wrong.”

“Regardless of your intentions, Mr Weasley the youngest, believes in the debt.” He glared at Ron, before returning the glare to Millicent. “It is causing issues.”

“Well I don’t believe in it,” Millicent tried to turn to talk to Ron, but Mopsy was blocking her view. “I, Millicent Bulstrode, don’t believe Ron Stalker Weasley owes me a debt. There, debt be gone.”

“Miss Bulstrode.”

“Sir.”

“This is not the time for hysterics,” he gave her a quelling look. This was not hysterics, Millicent hadn’t reached hysterics yet.

“Severus,” Mrs Weasley tutted. “Millicent dear, what the Professor is trying to say, is that Ron’s magic acknowledges he owes you.”

“He stopped bothering me though,” Millicent glanced at Gran. “I asked the twins to get him to stop stalking me, and they didn’t sadly, but then, after I threatened to kill him, he did, and he seemed fine.”

“Miss Bulstrode!” Professor Snape’s face was doing something peculiar in both expression and colour. She probably shouldn’t have admitted to death threats, not entirely Slytherin of her.

“I didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t leave me alone!”

“Did you not think to approach me with this?” The Professor gave her a withering stare.

“Not to be rude Sir, but you’d’ve spoken to his Head of House, and then I would have been in trouble because only one of us is evil after all,” Millicent pointed out. “What’s the point?”

“Miss Bulstrode,” he took a breath, “I know you believe you have some fairly valid reasons for not trusting the Deputy Headmistress, but she is able to show some unbiased behaviour.”

Millicent snorted.

“Minerva is very fair,” Mrs Weasley chirped.

“If you have a lion on your robe,” Millicent retorted. “Potter told her he was in the wrong, and she still thought it was my fault, and the Headmaster gave the impression he blamed me too.”

“Severus?”

He nodded fractionally. “Miss Bulstrode is in an unfortunate position this year.”

“She chose to be in the goon squad!” Ron shouted.

“Oh yes, I had so much choice,” Millicent picked Mopsy up so she could glare at Ron.

“You love it,” he glared back.

“Fuck you!” Millicent started to get up from her chair to bash his singular brain cell in.

“Millicent Elizabeth Ann Bulstrode!”

“Gran!” Millicent felt defeated.

“Sit down and apologise for using such foul language,” Gran pinned her with a look.

“I’m sorry for using uncouth language,” Millicent forced her tone into something that wasn’t spiteful, sitting down carefully and glaring at the table.

“Ronald, apologise to Millicent,” Mrs Weasley sounded as unimpressed as Gran did.

“Why? She started it!”

“Ronald Bilious Weasley, you apologise this instant or you will be getting the spoon, and I don’t care whose here to see it,”

“Mum!” There was a pause, before a sulky “Sorry Bulstrode.”

“Perhaps the situation might be explained properly, Severus?”

“I would like to know why my Granddaughter is being forced to be in a “Goon squad”.”

“Miss Bulstrode, would you like to explain?” The Professor asked cordially as if she wasn’t trying to set the table on fire with her gaze.

“They aren’t going to understand, well, Gran might?” Millicent gave her a quick look.

“I’m sure we will, Millicent,” Mrs Weasley gave her an encouraging look.

Millicent looked at the Professor who looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m not a pureblood,” she pointed at Gran. To a Slytherin that would be about as much of an explanation as she needed to give. Probably to a Ravenclaw too.

“Miss Bulstrode doesn’t have the same connections as her peers do,” The Professor added.

“What he means is, I’m a halfblood bastard, whose Mother dumped her on her dead partner’s parent and walked out not to be seen again,” Millicent decided to just go for it. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t common knowledge amongst her house anyway. “Dad was a muggle and hadn’t told anyone he was seeing anyone and died before I was born. The person we assume named me, turned up at the funeral and palmed me off on Gran. Probably thought I would be a squib or something.”

Mrs Weasley was doing something with her face, and Gran was giving her the look she did when it got brought up in the village, Millicent’s mother hadn’t been subtle about it at all.

“I roomed with a Muggleborn, because the others wouldn’t share with either of us,” Millicent started to pick at her fingers. “I was going through an awkward growth phase when I started at Hogwarts, and Gran had to lop off half my hair after I got tangled up in a bramble bush, so I looked worse than normal. I mean most of them still haven’t caught up, Dad was tall, wasn’t he Gran?”

“Very tall pet, the tallest in the village,” Gran said proudly. “Strongest too, he always liked to show off. Handsome too, you’re growing to look just like him.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent ducked her head. “Until Percy taught me how to write essays, I wasn’t even doing that well with classes. First impressions count, no matter what you get told. Poor, ugly, bulky, tall girl, with the wrong blood, and doesn’t know how to do school work. It sticks. Even if I could smash everyone into the ground and leave them bleeding. It’s not great for the reputation. Second year didn’t help.”

“Dueling is for wands, not fists,” Professor Snape sighed.

“She struggles with anger issues,” Gran tutted. “The Vicar’s suggested physical activity, I was planning to write to you about it Professor Snape.”

“I still won though,” Millicent grinned cheekily. “In a fight to the death, I wouldn’t be dead, I count it as a win.”

“Miss Bulstrode.” He sounded more than a little exasperated.

“Sorry, Sir.” She was not sorry, and he knew it.

“Anyway, it means that I don’t have any clout beyond beating people to a pulp or threatening to beat people to a pulp. So when Umbridge was looking for bullies to join the squad, someone told her about me, and suddenly I’m being given a badge and being made to patrol by myself for hours at a time, while I’m trying to study for my OWLs,” Millicent groused.

“The High Inquisitor has shown some concern about her missing Squad member,” Snape informed her.

“Kill me now,” Millicent groaned. “Anyway, when stalker Weasley asked me to help Potter, which I still have no idea why he asked me to step in when he has Percy, who’d be far better at it, I said no. And then I just mentioned, in passing, that Ron was writing to his parents. That’s it. No debt is needed. And it wasn’t a lie.”

“Ron never writes home,” Ginny dobbed her brother in.

“Well he should, I write Gran all the time,” Millicent shook her head.

“Oi!”

“Ronald,” Mrs Weasley frowned at him. “It would be nice to hear from you rather than from your siblings.”

“Mum!”

“Dolores Umbridge isn’t someone to be feared,” Percy piped up, “Harry shouldn’t have an issue with her.”

“She’s a menace!” Millicent blurted out while Ginny, Ron and the twins all chimed in with insults.

“Look, if you wanted to learn how to write consistently in black ink, she’d be perfect, but she doesn’t care about what we write, as long as it’s as neat as type font,” Millicent shifted enough to look at Percy. “She’s a crap teacher, that lot has started a secret group they think no one knows about to learn the stuff she’s not teaching. It’s OWLs this year, no one will pass on her course. And since when did a teacher have the ability to have their own snoop squad?”

“I’m sure she’s following the curriculum,” Percy frowned. “She’s a very good worker, the Minister has nothing good to say about her.”

“Mopsy, can you get my work for DADA please?” Millicent asked. Mopsy reappeared moments later with a pile of books and notes. “Look at this, we’re not allowed to cast in class, and we’re not allowed to practice casting without a teacher present, but it has to go through her, and she won’t allow it. Heaven alone knows what the NEWT group’s doing.”

Percy frowned, “Excuse me a moment.” He disappeared upstairs and returned with a stack of papers and books. Putting them side by side, he started to work his way through them.

“See, you should’ve talked to your brother,” Millicent waved at Percy. “He understands the value of a good education.”

“He’s a Ministry git,” Ron squawked.

“Your father works for the Ministry, we’re all very proud of Percy,” Mrs Weasley snapped, and Ron rubbed his arm after Bill flicked it.

“We won’t be repeating the advice Miss Bulstrode gave to Potter,” Professor Snape warned Mopsy.

“Millicent?” Gran asked with a frown.

“I just reminded him about being a boy and hormones,” Millicent said delicately, ignoring Ginny’s confusion as Bill snorted opposite.

“That’s quite enough,” Professor Snape warned.

“I did tell him to talk to someone who actually cared about him, like Mrs Weasley,” Millicent offered, flushing as Mrs Weasley cooed at her.

“Lupin claims he has been talking more,” Professor Snape sniffed.

“He told me everything,” Ron confessed. “And we had a long talk about Bulstrode, and that’s when I started feeling off.”

“How is that my fault?” Millicent asked.

“Miss Millicent asked bad boy to not, and bad boys did,” Mopsy squeaked. “It’s bad boys fault.”

“So now what?”

“Is there anything you would like from Mr Weasley the youngest?” Professor Snape asked tiredly.

“No. I don’t want anything to do with him, he’s a creepy stalker who doesn’t take no for an answer,” Millicent leaned back in her chair, ignoring Ron’s outrage. “Stopping someone from leaving and following them wherever they go, is being a creepy stalker. I still don’t know how you kept finding me.”

“Ron,” one of the twins spoke up for the first time.

“Fred,” Ron squirmed.

“Ronnie,” the other one looked disappointed in him, glancing at Mrs Weasley before leaning forward. “You didn’t?”

“George, I needed to talk to her!”

“Something you and Potter have in common,” Professor Snape sighed. “I will be talking to Minerva about this.”

“We taught you better than to stalk girls,” Mr Weasley shook his head in sorrow. “I am very sorry Millicent, Julia, the shame of it.”

“Miss Millicent be needing a husband,” Mopsy piped up slyly.

“Mopsy!” Millicent stood up, dumping Mopsy on the chair and disappearing to stand next to Gran for protection.

“Not all bad boys, give Miss Millicent many daughters,” Mopsy twisted her hands together.

“Gran!” Millicent hid behind her. She might be fifteen, but she’d long ago reached the point in the conversation of needing her Gran to sort it all out.

“Millicent’s a bit young for all that,” Gran answered, patting Millicent on the hand.

Molly’s face said it all, and Millicent dreaded what she was about to hear come pouring out of Mopsy’s mouth. “Respectable young ladies contracted at twelve, Miss Millicent is three years past, needs to be making contracts now.”

“Sir!” She appealed to her Head of House. He at least had some sense.

“If you don’t cease this I will be contacting the Headmaster, elf,” he warned. “Miss Bulstrode is not being made to marry a Weasley to release a debt.”

“Thank Merlin,” Ron breathed out. Millicent didn’t want to be saddled with Stalker Weasley either the cheeky git.

“Miss Julia be needing lots of grandchildren, and Miss Molly be needing more babies.”

There was a look of suspicion from Molly, as Mopsy perked up. “We’re happy with the seven we have, Mopsy.”

“There will be no fertility tampering,” the Professor hissed.

“Mopsy not be tampering with Miss Molly,” Mopsy nodded.

“Or Arthur,” Molly narrowed her eyes, with Mopsy twisting on the chair as she’d been caught out.

“Elf,” the Professor warned.

“Mopsy not be tampering with Mr Arthur,” Mopsy sulked.

“Or getting anyone or anything else too,” Millicent piped up.

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy wailed.

“You are a Slytherin,” Millicent shrugged.

“Mopsy not be tampering or getting fertility tampered with for Mr Arthur or Miss Molly,” Mopsy nodded. “Mopsy only be worrying for Miss Millicent.”

“Millicent’s too young for all that,” Gran repeated. “Not until she’s out of school and ready.”

“Nice boys will give lots of babies,” Mopsy nodded. “Mopsy knows how to make sure all girls, so no nasty boy babies.”

Millicent was beginning to work out why Mopsy might have been turfed out after all. “Sadly these won’t do. Too old, old and lives away, old and is just starting in his career path so has no time, shares everything, massive prat, and wrong bits.”

“Nice boys not too old,” Mopsy twisted hands. “Professor not too old, Professor helps Miss Millicent, strong babies.”

Professor Snape had turned purple.

“He’s my teacher, it’s against the rules,” Millicent avoided retching at the idea. She knew he’d got a following with some of the girls, but she personally couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Get rid of Umbridge,” Millicent shouted across before Mopsy could open her mouth again and really really upset Snape.

“Won’t work,” Bill answered, clearly deciding to ignore the impromptu marriage mart going on. “You’ve already started it. We need to make sure Harry doesn’t consider it to be a debt either.”

“I’m not marrying Potter either,” she hissed at Mopsy who perked up.

“Bad boy,” Mopsy sniffed.

“What about if he stops insulting me?” Millicent asked. “And gets Potter to.”

“Ron!” Mrs Weasley glared at her youngest son.

“I haven’t!”

“Much,” Ginny snorted.

“Gran?” Millicent appealed for help.

“I don’t understand it at all, pet,” Gran licked her lips. “Is there any more tea?”

Millicent sighed in relief as there was a break in the stupidly tense conversation, begging off to go get some fresh air as Mrs Weasley busied around Gran who was starting to feel the effects of the previous night's sherries.

Mopsy was helping to fuss with making tea things, and Millicent was able to slip out the kitchen door unnoticed by her overly interested elf.

She got to the bottom of the garden and screamed as loudly as she could for as long as she could. “Feeling better?” Bill, Ginny and Charlie were perched on the wall, watching.

“Not really,” Millicent flopped onto the floor. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“I think Mum’s going to ward the house against accidents,” Ginny giggled. “Mopsy seems really interested in babies.”

“I’m going to be a fucking walking womb,” Millicent stared at the sky. “I take back what I said yesterday, there’s adjusting, and then there's insanity.”

“I bet Mopsy could work out how to fix my bits,” Ginny cackled.

“She probably could,” Millicent agreed.

“At least she can’t fix being too old,” Bill chirped.

“Not apologising,” Millicent waved him off.

“I’m only old,” Charlie snickered.

“Do you want to be forced into a contract by a demented elf to a fifteen-year-old you only just met?” Millicent asked with a snort.

“It’s like one of Mum’s books,” Ginny cackled. “Except instead of a meddling mother, it’s a meddling elf.”

“Unless the books end with the heroine going off to university and smashing the patriarchy, count me out,” Millicent sighed. “Fuck my life. Any luck and Gran will forget I cursed.”

“Soap?” Bill asked sympathetically.

“I did swear quite a bit at Dumbles, and Maggy,” Millicent grinned. “She made me keep it in my mouth for thirty minutes and I didn’t get to rinse it properly until the night. She’s still hung over though, if she can have a nap she’ll forget.”

“Forgets a lot?” Charlie asked curiously, flicking ash away from her.

“She’s nearing eighty,” Millicent guessed, shrugging before letting Bill pull her to her feet, and brushing off the leaf mulch, Ginny brushing down her back.

“Ask Mum to make sure you have a place to go until you hit adulthood,” Bill suggested. “She would anyway now, but should stop Ron from being a pain about it all.”

Millicent stiffened at the very idea of Gran not being there.

“Look, it’s like a contract, it’s a safety net. If it’s just you and your Gran, what’s going to happen to you if she can’t look after you anymore?” He carried on gently.

“She wouldn’t be taking your Gran’s place,” Charlie added. “Just, if she couldn’t make it to the school and you needed someone to fight your corner, Mum will.”

“She’s already knitting you a jumper, you and your Gran,” Ginny piped up. “And she tore Ron a right one when we got home.”

“Mum knows more about house elves too,” Bill grinned. “If Snape doesn’t throttle Mopsy first.”

They all pulled a face at that. “No doubt that’ll stop the marrying you off as well.” Charlie offered. “Or at least to our brood, you could claim as foster siblings, and then it’s wrong.”

“Not according to Mum’s books,” Ginny grinned. “It’s romantic then.”

Millicent gagged.

Both men affected insulted poses. “We’re nice boys.”

“Don’t!” Millicent choked.

“Now you know how I feel,” Ginny patted her sympathetically. “Listening to the girls swoon all over them. Bleargh.”

“We’re very attractive, thanks Gin,” Bill laughed.

“Bill!” Ginny glared at him. “I’ll tell Mum you're tormenting me again.”

“Poor Gin gin, the ugly duckling in a family of swans,” Charlie teased, ruffling her hair.

“I hate you both.” Millicent snickered as Ginny stormed off into the house shouting for her mum.

“Ask her, it should work,” Bill suggested.

Chapter Text

Millicent hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of motherly affection, or tears when she did as Bill suggested and asked Molly and Arthur, with Gran’s permission to act as her backup guardians. Even Snape looked somewhat pleased.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on Gran for me too?” She whispered in Molly’s ear.

“Of course, she's going to introduce me to the ladies at the Church, and see if we can convince her friend to share her recipe,” Molly, because she'd insisted, hugged her tightly.

Mopsy hadn't looked too upset either, even with everyone pointing out that marriage was off the cards.

“If I'm no longer needed,” Professor Snape stood, clearly uncomfortable. “I'll inform the Headmaster of the resolution.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Gran was parcelled up in the bedroom after she started snoring, leaving Millicent feeling a bit like a spare part.

“Mopsy be taking Miss Millicent home.” Mopsy looked overly pleased with herself.

“William will be taking Millicent home to gather her things,” Molly said firmly, “Mopsy will be helping me in the kitchen, where I can keep an eye on you.”

She didn't fight the almost invitation, definitely order, that they'd be staying for Christmas. Barring that Millicent needed to go with Gran to Church for the Christmas Eve evening service.

The entire clan went. It caused quite a stir as the nine redheads filtered into the Church with Millicent clutching Mopsy's hand and Gran leading the procession. They'd found a charm to fool the village as to Mopsy’s appearance and she looked like a toddler clutching to Millicent’s skirts. There’d be gossip about that for months and no doubt about it.

The twins got smacked for singing badly, but it was fun.

Molly even interrupted one of the neighbouring villages' local lads who'd cornered Millicent at the candles to flirt badly. He wasn't much older, maybe Charlie's age, but she'd given him such a stern stare.

“He's cute,” Ginny whispered.

“And he knows it, he's on the prowl for someone to help him run his granddad's farm,” Millicent whispered back, rolling her eyes as he blew her a kiss. “Loaded land and stock wise, be a good match for someone who doesn't mind hard work and being around a complete pig.”

“Miss Millicent needs nice boy,” Mopsy squeaked quietly.

“His family never has more than one child,” Millicent soothed.

Ginny stared, looking more interested. “I can introduce you if you really want?” Milly offered.

Bill gently smacked them both behind the head. “Girls”

“I'm old?” Charlie teased quietly.

Millicent waved at the congregation still chatting away. “He's practically a baby, the only other one close in age is barely walking.”

The entire clan had brought down the average age, and he grinned. “Must have been a shock going to school.”

“I did go to primary,” Millicent snorted. “There were at least five in my class.”

They managed to avoid being dragged down to the village hall for pie and beer, Gran still not feeling well.

“Glad you talked to your Grandmother,” The Vicar nodded approvingly as Millicent finally managed to untangle them from the village gossip. “And conversion as well.”

“Yes Vicar, Merry Christmas,” she mumbled before he could dig his claws into the clan.

“We could’ve gone to the Village Hall,” Molly patted her on the shoulder.

“Not if anyone wanted to go to bed before dawn,” Millicent soaked up the attention. “It’s all pie and beer, and then the music comes on, and the tea dancing, and I’m sleeping in the corner while Gran parties the night away.”

“Tea dances?” Molly glanced at her husband.

“Every Saturday and every other Wednesday during the day, they also do line dancing, but that’s on a Friday night,” Millicent recited. “Bridge is Tuesday nights, Whist Drives Mondays and Thursdays.”

“We haven’t been dancing in a long time,” Molly murmured, as Arthur nodded.

“Maybe when we’re back at school, you could go with Gran?” Millicent suggested, desperate to leave before the Vicar returned.

They managed to get away, with Gran begging off to go to bed the moment they got back, even with Mopsy taking her. Ginny pulled Millicent into a game of cards, the rules changing every time someone won a round, until a hearty stew came out, the cards falling to the side as they ate.

“Now dear, Ginny’s a very early riser on Christmas morning, if you’d like we can make up the living room for you,” Molly whispered as Millicent started to make moves to head to bed.

“I wake early too, most days anyway,” Millicent accepted the small hug. “Good night.”

“Good night dear,” Molly gave her another squeeze.

Millicent didn’t even notice Ginny coming up, already fast asleep. It felt like she had hope again, the same feeling she’d had the night before she’d gone to Hogwarts. But this time, she felt sure it wouldn’t be dashed.

Mopsy woke her up again, with Ginny waking too the moment Mopsy whispered Millicent’s name. “Times for bath, Miss Millicent.”

“I have to stay here,” Millicent tried to be stern. She found it hard to keep it up around Mopsy, there was just something that made her want to give in all the time.

“Mopsy knows, Mopsy run baths for Miss Millicent, Miss Millicent needs bath now before boys wake up.”

Ginny wriggled past and nipped into the bathroom first, as Mopsy started to hurry Millicent up. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ginny,” Millicent whispered, closing the bathroom door behind her.

“Quick baths, boys be waking soon,” Mopsy admonished, scrubbing at her back, before tackling her hair. There was a knock at the door as she was rinsing off the cleanser.

“Miss Millicent be needing more time,” Mopsy called.

“How long?” A sleepy male voice asked.

“Not longs,” Mopsy answered back cheerily. There was some good-natured chuntering and the sound of retreating footsteps, as Millicent was made to stand, the bath draining and a shower of water washing off the suds. “Miss Millicent be scrubbing teeth, and Mopsy be taking back to room.”

“Ginny’s room,” Millicent checked, finding her toothbrush in the middle of all of the others. Hers and Gran’s toothpaste seemed out of place in the bathroom.

“Mopsy knows not to take Miss Millicent home,” Mopsy sulked. “Miss Millicent be rinsing now.”

A quick rinse, and wrapping the towel around her as the sound of footsteps returned. “Miss Millicent be finishing now. Mopsy be taking back to room. Boys be looking away.”

“Looking away,” a less sleepy voice replied with a laugh in their voice.

“Miss Molly raising good boys,” Mopsy noted, hurrying Millicent out and back to Ginny’s room. “Good boys not be looking at Miss Millicent in towel again.”

“To be fair, he didn’t know,” Millicent answered as Ginny stared at Mopsy. “He didn’t look, he just shouted a bit.”

“Miss Ginny also be needing bath,” Mopsy noted, getting Millicent’s clothes ready as Millicent dried off. “Mopsy be asking Miss Molly to take Miss Ginny for a bath.”

“I can wait,” Ginny promised.

“Miss Ginny needing to be respectable girl too,” Mopsy started.

“You could ask Molly,” Millicent offered, safe in the knowledge she’d say no. Which she did, knocking on the door shortly after to wish them both a Merry Christmas, and to reassure Ginny she wasn’t going to be forced to travel to Millicent’s to have a bath.

“Merry Christmas Molly,” Millicent accepted the hug happily.

“I don’t know if Ginny’s filled you in, but we do stockings first, and then breakfast, although we do have a cup of tea with the stockings. After breakfast we do presents, and then everyone can do their own thing until Christmas lunch,” Molly smiled fondly. “Harry’s coming with Remus and Sirius for Lunch, and Severus promised to think about coming too.”

“Harry’s coming?” Ginny asked, getting the same gleam as she had with the farmer boy the night before.

“With Remus and Sirius dear,” Molly kissed Ginny on the cheek. “Your Gran’s going to join us for presents, she doesn’t feel very well still.”

Ginny practically pulled Millicent down the stairs, Percy and Charlie were already sat on chairs, legs sprawled with big mugs in hand, and she could hear someone pottering in the kitchen.

More rounds of Merry Christmas, as they took seats, with Ginny advising on the best places to sit, as Ron would have to be the dogsbody this year with him being in so much bother with Molly.

“Would you like a tea, or hot chocolate?” Arthur bobbed his head around, a party hat already on his head. “We’ve some nice cocoa going.”

“Tea’s fine, thank you Mr Weasley,” Millicent answered, curling her legs up under her, tugging her oversized jumper down.

“Arthur dear, Mr Weasley was my father,” he chuckled, “Ginny love, come grab the drinks from the kitchen.”

“Yes Dad,” Ginny flopped dramatically as Charlie winked at her.

“Did you sleep well?” Percy asked.

“I think so, I went pretty much to sleep,” Millicent answered, happily accepting the tea. “So do you all mainly live here?”

“I have my own rooms near the Ministry,” Percy answered.

“Bulgaria,” Charlie tipped his tea slightly.

“Bill’s got rooms near mine, he moved out first, he’s often away with work,” Percy carried on.

“What does he do?” Millicent asked as Ginny rolled her eyes.

“He works for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker,” Charlie flicked something at Ginny who stuck her tongue out.

“Getting all the bases covered then,” Millicent grinned. “Taking over the banks, the Ministry and the Dragons.”

“We’re very proud of all our boys,” Arthur beamed at the two in the room. “And have high expectations for Ginny too, whatever she chooses to do.”

“I’m going to be a Quidditch Star,” Ginny flicked her hair back, before quickly brushing it back looking for Mopsy.

“And after that?” Millicent asked.

“I could be the next Stubby Boardman?” Ginny pouted at her.

“I mean, are you going into investments, book deals, politics, brand deals?” Millicent rephrased it. “Just look at what happens in football, they earn a ton of money, and then they get an injury or just age out, and half of them are bankrupt and have no job skills beyond kicking a ball. The clever ones have other stuff going on in the background.”

Ginny half glared at her. “Did you talk to Mum and Dad about it?”

“Yes,” Millicent lied.

“Dad!”

“She’s teasing you,” Arthur gave her a fond look.

“It’s no different from what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Charlie tormented his little sister. “It’ll make mum and dad happier if you had a plan beyond flying for the Harpies.”

“It’s Christmas!” Ginny slurped on her hot chocolate.

“You’ve started your OWLs though, you should’ve been somewhat thinking about it in third year,” Millicent pointed out, ignoring Ginny’s ugh. “Did your Head not go through potential options?”

“She thought I was good at Transfiguration,” Ginny scowled. “Half the school thinks I’m just going to turn into Mum.”

Millicent pretended to ignore the dirty looks Ginny was given. “Sorry, not that there's anything wrong with being Mum, but I don’t want to end up with seven kids and having to -“

“Ginerva,” Arthur snapped.

“You’re vastly overestimating how much attention people pay you too,” Millicent stepped in before it turned into a row. “Maybe half of Gryffindor.”

Ginny pouted.

Charlie barked with laughter, and Percy had a small grin on his face.

“That’s not bad,” Millicent offered. “Attention isn’t everything.”

“I’m not an attention seeker,” Ginny spat.

“You aren’t picking a fight on Christmas morning?” Millicent asked, sipping on her tea. “Nothing wrong with wanting attention, but I bet you get lots being the only girl, good and bad.”

Percy didn’t say anything, and Charlie chose to drink instead.

They were saved by the twins trundling down the stairs, looking freshly cleaned followed by Mopsy. Ron came down shortly after, and Bill appeared looking windswept and snow-covered, carrying a sack over his shoulder that he placed very gently down on the floor by the tree.

“I’m not an attention seeker,” Ginny whispered in Millicent’s ear after they bodged up to make more space.

Millicent gave a sly wink, turning to wish the others Merry Christmas.

She wasn’t expecting a stocking, and neither was Mopsy, but they were both handed green stockings with their names embroidered on, after checking Mopsy wouldn’t consider it as an item of clothing.

They all seemed to be the same, different coloured socks, a chocolate orange which made Millicent stare at Molly for a good ten minutes. “Your Gran suggested it.” A selection of small toys, cards, marbles, socks, with no stocking have the same toy as any of the others. A book, and a scarf, Mopsy had a green dishcloth instead, but she was just as thrilled as Millicent was with hers.

Molly accepted Molly’s hug happily, and Arthur’s brief awkward one she felt she had to give. They were all released to remove their goodies up to their rooms, with Ginny comparing books with Millicent, with Millicent’s being one she knew Gran had gotten, a John LeCarre that she’d been talking about. Ginny’s was a wizarding one, that Millicent hadn’t even heard of before.

Breakfast was demolished in minutes, with a brief break for Mopsy to get Gran up, Millicent offered, but Mopsy considered it her duty, and had gotten overly offended at the mere idea. So Millicent was perched on the wall, passively smoking Charlie’s cig, while Ginny decided to break down her career progression.

“Probably should dump Divination then,” Millicent offered, staring longingly at the cig as it dangled between his fingers.

“It’s easy,” Ginny whined.

“Rune’s is better,” Millicent leaned forward a bit. “Or Arithmancy. Shouldn’t be too late to switch, and if anyone says anything, Malfoy switched start of this term.”

“Bill changed three times,” Charlie agreed, laughing as Millicent inhaled as he did. “You can have one.”

“I shouldn’t,” Millicent whined. “Gran says Dad had an addiction to them.”

“Is that how he died?” Ginny asked, flailing as Charlie swatted her behind the ear.

“Ginny!”

“What?” Millicent waited a moment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Mum’ll tan your hide if she hears you,” Charlie scolded. “Apologise.”

“It’s alright,” Millicent waved it off. “No, he died in an accident down the mine.”

“Sorry Milly,” Ginny screwed her face. “Should’ve thought.”

“Not really known for thinking,” Millicent gave a half-hearted grin, pinching the half-smoked cig from Charlie’s fingers and taking a long drag, coughing as it burned her lungs. “Shit that's nasty.”

He took it back shaking his head, “It’s not the smoothest, I’m used to it.”

“I thought no one thought about me?” Ginny ignored the choking.

“Lions, you rush in without thinking and if it works out it’s brave and heroic, and if it doesn’t it’s tragic and heroic,” Millicent coughed some more. “I thought it’d be like it smells.”

Charlie belted her gently on the back, stubbing out the remainder on the wall and vanishing it. “Yeah, first times always bad. Takes a few before you get into it. Probably shouldn’t, or not the Muggle stuff at any rate.”

“She’s going to smell it on me,” Millicent realised, feeling the blood rush from her head.

“I’ll charm you, have a mint though,” he tossed her a tin, Ginny stealing one as she opened it. “It’s not big or clever.”

“According to Ron, neither am I,” Millicent croaked.

“He does think you’re big, like a troll,” Ginny grinned.

“Ginny!” Charlie gave her a warning look.

“What, she’s like our sister now, so it’s sisterly solidarity.”

Molly gave Millicent a concerned look as they came back in, Charlie had freshened them both up, but Millicent’s eyes were watery from the choking.

“Merry Christmas, Gran,” Millicent bent down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Gran pulled her down, and whispered, “You’ve been smoking.”

Millicent glanced at Charlie who looked confused. “I can tell, your Dad used to look like that, he could roll himself in pig muck and drink vinegar, and I’d still know.”

“I won’t do it again,” Millicent whispered, not quietly enough as Molly looked at her second eldest with a look.

“You will,” Gran gently tapped her cheek, “But you’ll regret it.”

“Sorry, Gran,” Millicent slunk back to her chair, with Ginny giving her a suspicious look.

Millicent hadn’t been expecting anything from the Weasleys, well not other than a jumper thanks to Ginny. Gran got a lap blanket and some tea. Millicent got a Jumper and a place on the family clock.

“Well we have got a new daughter now dear,” Molly beamed. “I always wanted more daughters.”

Millicent tried to apologise for the lack of gifts from them, and Molly waved it off. “We’ve gained more family, what more of a gift can we ask for?”

Bill had managed to find the small present Millicent had for Mopsy, an art book and some paints Gran had found when Mopsy had started to paint murals in Millicent’s dorm room. It sent Mopsy into floods of tears, with her repeating how Miss Millicent was the kindest girl ever to have lived.

Gran’s gift was a savings bond, she always got Millicent a bond, and a couple of new yo-yos Millicent had been talking about when she got back from Hogwarts. Gran was pleased with Millicent’s gift, Millicent’s best attempt at painting a landscape of their house. Mopsy had offered to do it, and would’ve done a much better job, but other than the gift of good grades, Millicent didn’t have any money to buy anything until Summer.

“You’re getting much better,” Gran showed it off. “I can tell that’s Miss Oliviette the Seventh in the window.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent accepted the praise for what it was.

“We could hang it up now,” Molly asked, as Millicent’s face drained with colour. Ron was snickering, and Bill was giving her a sympathetic look. Arthur saved her by thanking Molly for his cup warmer.

All the paper was whisked away, and if by some wordless magic, everyone scattered. The piles of treasures disappeared off with their receivers until it was just Millicent and Gran left in the living room.

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent curled up next to her on the sofa.

“We’ll be putting it with the others,” Gran petted her on the hand. “Do you think we’ll be watching the films?”

“I don’t think they have a telly, Gran,” Millicent winced at the horror on her face. “Maybe we could go home for you to watch them? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“But what about the Queen?”

“I think she’s still about,” Millicent grinned at the swat. “We can ask what time the meal is, and go home and watch it if it’s not during dinner?”

“I don’t think it’s Christmas without the Queen,” Gran crossed her arms.

“Probably not, Gran,” Millicent agreed. “Shall I go check?”

“What kind of people don’t have a Queen?” Gran asked.

“Most of the world,” Millicent accepted the swat. “I’ll go ask.”

Molly was happy to make sure Gran could get back to watch the Queen, the food starting just after the speech. Millicent did her best not to roll her eyes at the usual patriotic nonsense as Gran got very upset about the state of the Royal family.

It wasn’t a surprise to see the Professor already sat at the table, nor Potter.

“Merry Christmas,” she painted on her best smile. “Mrs Weasley, would you mind if we went home for 4:25?”

“Of course dear, you aren’t a prisoner,” Molly beamed at her. “We’re just grateful to share the holiday with you.”

“Why?” Ginny whispered.

“They’re premiering Hook,” Millicent whispered back. “Couldn’t see at the cinema, it’s got Robin Williams in it, looks good.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s based on Peter Pan,” Millicent forgot to whisper, and Potter’s head shot up.

“Hook?”

“Yeah, it’s on at 4:30 on BBC 1, it looks really good,” Millicent answered, and Professor Snape frowned. “It’s not rotted Gran’s brain, and she watches TV all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Gran sniffed. “I just like my soaps, and the daytime things. Irene had an old teapot that was worth £40, the things you learn.”

“Can we watch it?” Potter turned to his guardians who looked perplexed.

“I don’t think we’ve time to get a TV,” Professor Lupin answered delicately.

“You can watch it with Millicent,” Gran decided.

“Can we watch?” Ginny asked Molly pleadingly.

“Mopsy be watching too,” Mopsy bounced.

“No one will be watching if we don’t eat,” Molly claimed, clapping her hands together. Mopsy had to be persuaded that even if Mopsy was the best at carving, it should be Arthur who carved the bird. He did an excellent job, to Millicent’s eyes anyway, she could tell Mopsy felt otherwise with the small twitching she kept doing.

It was decided that the children, Millicent wasn’t keen on being considered a child, would return to Gran’s to watch the film. The adults, minus Bill, who was being sent to make sure nothing happened, would stay at the Burrow. Potter had looked suspicious, an expression he often wore at school speccy little prat, but the others had accepted it more graciously than she thought they would.

Millicent grabbed the tub of chocolates Gran liked to keep for Christmas day, and dumped them on the table, pouring drinks in the kitchen as the transition came on. Mopsy claimed it was the same as making tea, a job only for young ladies, and Ginny was a guest. “It’s starting!” Mopsy squeaked.

“I can hear,” Millicent put the jug on the table and sprawled out on the floor, having long since learnt the best viewing spot was at a slight angle, so the missing stripe didn’t bother her so much.

For the next few days, Ginny would look at Millicent and the pair of them would breathe “Rufio,” and cackle. Millicent was fairly sure she’d had her first sexual awakening watching him. The pair of them had shouted when he died, their eyes suspiciously damp, and she’d seen Ron and Potter play fighting when they got back.

She wasn’t surprised that Gran started making noises about being back in her own bed, although Molly managed to convince her to stay one more night, Bill helping them home after breakfast, after Mopsy had been given a list of instructions by Molly.

Chapter Text

It was so quiet back at Gran's, for at least an hour, before the door started. Mr Hendry spotted the fire going and came to wish them a Merry Christmas. Which sparked Mopsy into a tailspin of Christmas decorating. After that, it was a trail of Gran’s friends popping in for a gossip. Millicent escaped up to her bedroom and flopped on the bed with her book, while Mopsy started painting, as Millicent read aloud to her.

The Village Hall was abuzz with questions about the new family, with Gran preening at being the centre of the gossip. Millicent was left to fetch tea, and be used as a spare for when people wanted a break from cards.

Ginny spent a couple of afternoons over at Gran’s watching TV to escape all the boys, Bill dropping her off, staying only for a drink, before returning hours later.

“Mum wants to know if it’s alright if we crash the New Years Party?” Ginny asked, sprawled across Millicent’s bed while Millicent practised her yo-yo tricks.

“It’ll be a late one, but they can always leave early if it’s too boring,” Millicent shrugged.

“Dad wants to drive,” Ginny pulled a face.

“I can drive,” Millicent perked up. “Not legally mind, not until next year, but I can drive, Mr Hendry taught me.”

Ginny looked horrified.

“He taught me to pass my test, for Gran. He’s got a beat-up wreck for me for when I do, so I can take Gran to Church without her having to walk up the hill,” Millicent stuck her tongue out. “I don’t even stall.” Much.

“Do we have to dress up?” Ginny whispered Mopsy had gone to the Burrow to help Molly, but she had the ability to reappear with no notice.

“Yeah, lots of dancing too, and none of them wear deodorant. So wear plenty of perfume,” Millicent opened her wardrobe and pulled out the spotty dress that still fit. “You’ll be warm and freezing, so layer up too. And bring boots to walk back in, although people will offer to drop us off. Say no, they’ll all be hammered and at least three cars don’t make it off the car park.”

“Hermione says we have to kiss,” Ginny pulled a face.

“I mean, you’ll get lots of kisses on the cheek at Midnight, which may or may not be at Midnight depending on if the clocks working properly and the music is actually lined up with it. Last year it was about thirty minutes after because the clock was slow and no one checked their watches.”

“I might tell her we can’t,” Ginny pulled a face.

“After about 10, no one will bother about buying you drinks, before 10 and it’s well it’s New Years, it doesn’t count at New Years,” Millicent added, grinning as Ginny considered it. “We might even be allowed near the pool tables. Or there’s the card tables on the stage, the barrier will be up. Might be on babysitting duty though, depending on if Timmy’s there or not.”

Everyone turned up for New Years, Mr Weasley driving the car very carefully down to the village hall, while the youngsters walked down, Mopsy joining Gran in the car for a new experience.

Millicent hadn’t been lying, within half an hour, she’d been bought two drinks, both with a little bit extra in, because it was New Years. They hadn’t been allowed unattended, even with Bill and Charlie there, in the pool room. After 10, however, the rules suddenly changed. The darts came out, the pool cues were fair game, and the bar had enough money behind it to pay for the night, so stopped taking payment.

The buffet was grazed upon, in between dances, and Millicent had been swung around the floor enough times to be dizzy. She’d also not been wrong about the deodorant. Mopsy was having the time of her life, with some of the very old oldies, dancing with her like she was a toddler. Timmy hadn’t been invited. Which also meant Timmy’s mum hadn’t, so Ginny was the youngest and had been asked to dance by everyone.

“We don’t need to kiss on the lips?” Ginny checked as someone decided it was time to count down. Bill had five fingers up at Molly’s look. Five minutes was pretty accurate for the Village Hall.

“Just cheeks,” Millicent reassured her. “But there will be lots of old people kissing on the lips.”

She abandoned them to find Gran, who was snoozing with Mrs Smith, the pair of them had a tray of empty glasses on the table, and Mr Smith had a tray with more on.

“Happy New Year Gran” Millicent whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek, accepting one off the awake Mr Smith, before making her way back to the Weasleys.

“If you don’t know the words its fine, just shuffle with the crowd,” she advised, linking arms with Molly as they started to do Auld Lang Syne, Millicent long since had the words drummed in her head. More kissing of cheeks, and much much more dancing, with most of the boys disappearing off to the pool room, Ginny curled up next to Gran fast asleep by the time two hit.

“Should we be heading back?” Arthur asked, Molly was busy bouncing on the dance floor with Mr Hendry, one of the more athletic dancers of the village, Millicent was taking a breather after she’d had to stop Mr Smith from trying to swing her through his legs. She vaguely remembered him doing it when she was in pigtails. Every year he seemed to think she was still five.

“You don’t have to stay,” Millicent assured him. “Mr Hendry will drop Gran off, and Mrs and Mr Smith.”

He gave her a fond look. “I can walk back with Mopsy.”

“Why don’t you take Ginny, Ron and the twins back with Mrs Johnson, Dad?” Bill appeared. “You can come back for Mum after you get them home.”

“I wouldn’t mind heading back,” Percy appeared, “I can keep watch of the twins.”

“Gran won’t be ready yet,” Millicent ignored how Gran was still snoring with Mrs Smith. The dubious look got her explaining. “In about thirty minutes, someone's going to start playing Vera Lynn and the pair of them will be shuffling around like zombies.”

Arthur chuckled, heading onto the dance floor to speak to his wife, shaking hands with Mr Hendry, and leaving to collect his children who all looked in various states of sleep.

“Want to dance?” Bill asked, he’d spun her around earlier, as had Charlie and Percy, the twins hadn’t touched the dance floor, and Ron had reluctantly danced with Molly before outright refusing to do any more.

“Sounds fun,” Millicent grinned, “You smell a lot better than most of my partners.”

“Only most,” Bill sighed tragically, spinning her around like a top.

“Charlie always smells good,” Millicent shrieked as he picked her up and threw her between his legs in the way Mr Smith had tried and failed. “Warn a girl!”

“It’s his freshening charm,” Bill span her back upright, dancing them over to Molly, who was busy twisting like a pro.

“Maybe he could cast it over the hall,” Millicent muttered.

“William, my baby boy,” Molly cooed, “And Milly, don’t you two look lovely dancing. Your fathers taking Ginny home.”

“We know, Mum,” Bill grinned good-naturedly, switching as the music changed, leaving Millicent with Mr Hendry who’d started to drip with sweat well before Midnight. She couldn’t help but stare at Bill with his utmost betrayal.

She was saved by Charlie, who headed Mr Smith off, before switching off with Bill to dance with Molly. Arthur returning just in time to see Gran and Mrs Smith waken and start shuffling onto the dance floor as if in a trance.

“I’m out,” Millicent snickered, heading for the ladies before she could get dragged into the slow dancing that Vera Lynn always seemed to encourage. Slipping outside as she spotted the familiar glow of a cigarette.

“Fuck it’s cold.”

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy stared at her.

“I said duck it’s cold,” Millicent bullshitted, having had more than a few peach schnapps and lemonade.

“Nice boys be watching while I get Miss Millicent’s coat,” Mopsy nodded.

“Duck?” Charlie snickered.

“She bought it.” She paused. “Why was Mopsy outside?”

“Mopsy wanted to make sure we had enough to eat,” Bill waved his plate at her. “Want a charm?”

“Please,” Millicent held her breath, the ice already sinking into her feet. “Having fun?”

“It’s livelier than we thought it’d be,” Charlie laughed. “Ginny said that it’d be a late one.”

“Old people, all of their parties go on until dawn,” Millicent shivered, as the warming charm slowly started to work. “Should not have come out without my coat on.”

“It’s minus 6,” Bill pointed to the thermometer.

“And the rest, that reads 6 when it's frozen,” Millicent hissed as he draped his coat over her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Miss Millicent’s coat not be here!” Mopsy appeared looking distraught.

“Someone will have taken it, they’ll return it at some point when they sober up,” Millicent shoved her hands under her bosom.

“We’ll go inside,” Charlie stubbed out his cig.

“Can’t,” Millicent dithered. “If I go inside now I’ll be asleep in an hour and then I’ll be here until seven.”

Bill winced.

“Yeah, ever since I hit eight, at four I can start making hints about us going home,” Millicent leaned into Bill’s side, stealing his heat.

“Every year?”

“Every year.”

As it was, Arthur managed to convince Molly and Gran at half three it was time to head home.

“Millicent can perch on Bill’s knee, and Mopsy can sit on Charlie’s,” Arthur frowned at the car as if it would make it bigger.

“I usually walk back,” Millicent had her boots on already. “It’s tradition.”

“You aren’t walking back,” Molly shook her head and then shook it again. Millicent was fairly sure she’d seen Molly joining Gran and Mrs Smith with a bottle of Baileys. Or as Millicent called it, danger cream. Gran was going to be so ill in the morning.

“Mopsy will be with me,” Millicent had Mopsy cradled in her arms, Mopsy had finished off Millicent’s last two drinks, having thought they were peach-flavoured lemonade, and had passed out. Not that Molly noticed.

“I’ll give her a lift,” Mr Hendry offered.

“Dad you take Mum, Mrs Johnson and Mopsy back, we’ll walk, clear our heads,” Bill took charge, lifting Mopsy like a rag doll and placing her gently in the car.

“I can drive you all back,” Mr Hendry slurred.

“We’ve got a lift, Happy New Year!” Millicent distracted him.

“Is he safe to drive?” Arthur asked dubiously.

“Not at all. You should get going before he does,” Millicent grinned. “We’ll be forty minutes, maybe quicker.”

“I’ll come back for you,” Arthur decided.

“We’ll set off and meet you partway there,” Millicent compromised.

“Look after her boys,” Arthur warned, sliding in the car and setting off immediately as Mr Hendry’s car lights came on.

“We’re not taking the shortcut,” Bill warned, following her out of the car park.

“Why not?” Charlie asked, already lighting up.

“It’s not that safe in the dark if you don’t know where you’re going,” Millicent grinned. “And even if you do, if you forget, well.”

“We could just,” Charlie waggled his eyebrows.

“I can’t,” Millicent shrugged.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” Bill confessed. “The ladies wouldn’t stop buying me drinks.”

“They do that,” Millicent grinned. “The spirits will all have been doubles, singles don’t exist in the village.”

The road was almost eerily quiet, as it only ever seemed to be this time of year. The fields glistened in the moonlight, the three of them choosing to walk in the road where it had at least been salted, the pavement treacherously slippy with the blackest of ice. Her hands were super warm, being tucked into the arms of the two men, and the heating charm kept being refreshed keeping her face from freezing off.

On the whole, Millicent could do without the whole magic thing, but times like this, it was the best thing in the world.

Chapter Text

Despite the fact she’d gone to bed at a very early 5 am, Millicent found herself awake and alert by 9. In part due to Gran snoring loudly. Molly had offered to have them over to stay again, but Gran insisted on sleeping in her own bed for the start of the New Year.

Mopsy looked worse for wear, and Millicent suspected that she might have consumed more than peach schnapps. Millicent on the other hand, was disgustingly healthy, and awake. The joys of being young, and the vast amounts of food she’d consumed the night before. She was an old hat now at drinking too much. Also, the pint of water she necked before going to bed helped.

She wasn’t one for New Year's Resolutions. If a change needed to be made, it should be done straight away, rather than waiting for an arbitrary date. Or so Gran told her, and it was hard to argue with. Still, she did decide that maybe attempting a run before heading back to school, would be up there in the good ideas of 1996 list.

It was not. She’d thrown up at the top of Old Farra’s field, having started off strong, her strong thighs making short work of the first third of the hill. The second third went a good deal slower, and she was all but crawling as she reached the top. It was a bit easier running along the ridge and going down the other side was simple as.

A decision not to run through the bog leading to the woods was made. She didn’t have the right shoes on, instead, she turned to head to the village hall, making it in decent enough time. Half the car park was full, and the village hall was open, also less of a surprise. It wasn’t supposed to take the place of a local pub, they had two in striking distance, but weekends and bank holidays normally had the bar open.

Being brave she headed up to the Church, which was empty. Her running was also more of a fast walk than even a jog at this point.

“Hi Dad,” she flopped to the floor next to his stone. “Happy New Year!”

She ran a hand over his name, staring out across the valley, dusted with snow. “I ran here or ran some of the way. Gran says I need to run and burn off some of my energy. Thinks it’ll stop me being angry all the time.”

She blew air out of her cheeks. “Not sure it will, but it’ll be good to get back into it again. I could run all the way here last year. If I was in the Serengeti I would’ve been caught by a one-legged cheetah. Not good at all.”

She shifted, tucking her hands between her legs to get them warm again. “I don’t feel angry though, not now. Not since, well there was a moment but I was being goaded so that doesn’t count. Being at home though, maybe they could do a distance learning course? Like I’m doing for my GCSEs? Anyway, you don’t want to hear about boring school stuff. You want to hear all the gossip. Gran’s probably going to tell you anyway, although I’m not sure she’s going to remember a whole lot of it. She got absolutely drunk last night. Her and Mrs Smith were completely wasted. They should do studies on their livers if they survive last night.”

Millicent shook her head at the thought. “So, I accidentally interfered in something I shouldn’t have. Not deliberately. Just happened. And then the person’s friend who asked me to intervene believed they owed me? Ridiculous, but then he’s a right prat. It’s all worked out though, unbelievably. His family are really nice, and I think you’d really like Molly. She gives really good hugs, and Arthur is sweet too. They really love their kids, and then have six of them. Five turned out pretty good, the other one needs a lot of work doing to get him there I think. Not that I can talk. They are going to keep an eye out on Gran for me, which I’m glad of. Mr Smith said she’d been ill just before she came to get me, not that Gran said anything.”

She chewed on her lip. “Just another six months and then I can just not go back. Some don’t for the Sixth Year. Then I can look after Gran properly, and Mr Hendry said he’s always going to need a competent farm hand, so I can bring in the money too. Or get a job in town. He has that old Landrover waiting for me to get my license, and then I’ll be able to take Gran to the shops, or just go myself.”

She wasn’t sure what Mopsy would do when Millicent finished at Hogwarts. It wasn’t like she was planning on staying in the wizarding world, even if the Weasleys were good people. She was unlikely to get a decent job there, and she had Gran to think of. She wasn’t sure if Mopsy would like living Muggle side permanently.

“I’ll be back for Easter, but we go back tomorrow so I won’t be able to fill you in on anything else. Love you, but my bottom’s starting to freeze. Bye Dad,” Millicent stroked the top of the stone before heading back, deciding she hated herself and ran down and then up to the top of the village before sprinting back down the hill to her lane.

“Happy New Year,” she called as she entered the house, the fire on, and the tv blaring.

“Happy New Year, love,” Gran looked tired, draped in her lap blanket, with Mopsy dozing quietly in her seat.

Professor Snape sent a letter, instructing that Millicent was not to be brought back by elf and that the Weasleys would arrange for her to travel back with them. Which meant Bill turning up at 8 to collect her.

“Bye Gran, love you, I’ll write,” Millicent kissed her on the cheek.

Molly had it down to an art, how she got them out of the door and onto the platform without losing anyone. Millicent might’ve been tempted to leave Ron behind if she’d been in charge, but no, everyone no matter how slow they were, made it onto the train.

Ginny snagged a compartment and dragged Millicent in, not that she put up much of a fight. It was easier than intimidating people to leave one for her. That and Ginny had lots to tell her, even though they’d seen each other quite a lot over the holiday period. Which, considering Millicent had barely acknowledged the existence of Ginny until just before Christmas, was baffling. A good baffling, but baffling all the same.

She was also a little obsessed with Potter, and Millicent felt she owed it to Molly to nip that in the bud sharpish.

“He’s not the brightest, and he’s easily overruled, which sounds good in a relationship, but you’ll be bored almost immediately. You need someone with a bit of backbone, not someone who gets depressed the moment a bureaucrat gets involved. Because, once we leave school, the thing that’s going to be the biggest concern is bureaucracy,” Millicent pointed out. “It’s going to be paying bills, getting a job, filling in paperwork. The chances are, he’s going to get a boss who expects him to do things by the book rather than whatever the old catbag and Dumbles let him get away with. You can’t have two people like that in a relationship. No offence.”

Ginny glared at her.

“You want to be a Quidditch superstar, right? Even if you do have the common sense to diversify, you won’t be dealing with much in the way of petty office politics. You’ll be dealing with super egos on a world scale. You need someone you can rely on, who’ll keep you on the straight and narrow. Not Potter. And really, have you thought about what your kids will look like? He’s not the prettiest weed, is he? If you get lucky they’ll take after you, if you don’t,” she pulled a face. “And he has awful eyesight. If I was you, I’d be looking at what the rest of the school has to offer. You want brains and personality - let's be honest, Potter hasn’t got much of one, health is pretty important too. Also, do you really want to be the woman who married the idiot who didn’t die? Or do you want to be known by your own name?”

Ginny pulled a face at her as if that was going to stop Millicent. “Why do you like him anyway? He doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no, and he still hasn’t written an apology to Mopsy.”

“Why does he need to apologise to Mopsy?” Ginny frowned.

“It’s the whole reason Ronniekins got in trouble because Potter doesn’t understand the word no. Mopsy,” Millicent bit her lip and considered how to proceed. “Mopsy came to my aid to take me back to my dorm room when Potter wouldn’t leave me alone, and instead of just letting it go, he grabbed me and ended up coming with us to my dorm. I thought I was going to be expelled for having a boy in my room.”

“That’s why you disappeared? That’s so wrong, they shouldn’t blame you!” Ginny growled. “No one said anything about Harry entering the girls dorms.”

“Professor Snape appeared almost immediately and escorted him out, and then Gran came to take me home early. Mopsy blamed herself, and I told Potter he needed to write her a letter apologising properly, instead of his shit one. Another thing he has in common with Ron, I would never get away with that level of apology,” Millicent felt herself work up into a rant. Apparently, Ron’s none apology at Christmas still grated.

They got halfway up the country, having devolved into gossiping about Rufio and how they were definitely going to write to him when the Twin’s appeared. She wasn’t best pleased with the gift of a new, very red, scarf, which so she’d have something to support her favourite team with.

Millicent wasn’t going to be cheering for the Twins, not when she had a better house to cheer for, as long as her former Cross Country friends forgave her for not joining up this year. She was hoping she’d only get a mild ribbing for it.

Hufflepuff would be the house for her, she was damned if she was going to be made to cheer for Malfoy and his cronies, but not to the point where she would cheer for Potter either. Hufflepuff though, Gilly and Mary were good people, the sort Gran approved of, even if they were in a relationship. Gran wasn’t a fan of young people in relationships, she thought it wasn’t the done thing. Meet at 25, marry at 30, kids by 35, that was the way of it according to Gran. Although, with Mopsy whispering in her ear, Millicent was fully expecting to be nagged into meeting someone by 20, marrying at 25, and kids by 26. If only to make sure Gran got to be around for it all.

The third year waved furiously at her as she left the Weasley contingent to make her way down to her room, and she did her best to ignore it, especially as it became clear they were waving at Millicent rather than anyone else.

“Back then?” Zabini asked, emerging from the back as if he’d been following her.

“Sadly,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “I did ask if I could just take the exams and not bother coming back, but apparently it’s not the done thing. Not unless I was on death’s door.”

“Could be arranged,” someone muttered, and she span to glare not that anyone met her gaze.

“I’m happy to duel anyone who has an issue,” she hissed. “The walls need a bit of colour after all.”

“That’s a record,” Zabini muttered just quietly enough that she assumed it was meant for her.

“I don’t like to disappoint,” she winked at him. “They’ve obviously got the memory of flobberworms if they’ve forgotten I won’t just bash their skulls against the wall.”

“Miss Bulstrode, what have I told you about death threats?” The familiar hiss of their Head had her groaning.

“Not to issue them?” She guessed. He hadn’t actually said anything since the second year when she’d threatened to go after Granger. Somehow Granger ending up in the medical bay for ages had been Miss Oliviette’s fault which made no fucking sense. Millicent had offered to go and make Granger retract the accusation, or get rid of her, whichever made the threat towards Miss Oliviette go away faster.

“My office, first thing,” he stared at her.

“Yes Sir,” Millicent did her best not to roll her eyes. She waited a minute until they’d cleared the danger zone. “That’s an actual record.”

“Rather you than me,” he mumbled, glancing about as if Snape was following them.

“You’d need to actually take a stance on anything, for it to be you,” she smiled sweetly, grinning as he shot her a look.

“Like skulking in the library is taking a stance,” he shot back.

“I’ll have you know I’ve upgraded from the library, too many plebs,” Millicent waved mockingly as she left him to head into the girl's section.

She wished she could say it was good to be back, but honestly, other than her room being exactly the same as she’d left it, thanks to Mopsy, Millicent could feel her skin crawling already. Three months and she could go back home. Six months and she’d be done with exams and school until the Sixth year. She just needed to hold on to that thought. Two years six months and she’d never have to come back.

Oh to have a magical stopwatch and speed through the next couple of years. Or just transfer. She could do that as well, French couldn’t be that difficult to learn.

Chapter Text

“Miss Bulstrode.” He always managed to put the most amount of disappointment in his voice, almost as if he’d been practising for years.

“Sir.”

“Once again I would like to remind you that the wisest course of action is to be discreet. Threatening students is not. You have been warned before about making threats of violence around staff members,” he chided.

“Yes sir,” she agreed. She didn’t point out that she’d not seen him, and thus hadn’t considered it to be around staff members, as he was as likely to change the warning to threats in general. At the moment he was allowing some leeway, which she was eager to keep.

“You will be disappointed to learn that sadly, the High Inquisitor is no more, and thus no more is the Inquisitorial squad. I have written to assure your Grandmother that you will no longer be required to patrol out of hours.” There was a pause as his face did something odd, a twist of his lips, that if he was a real person, she’d assume it might even be a smile, but as he was above such things, she was putting it down to a bit of gas.

“Oh no, I hope she is alright,” Millicent forgot to put any emotion in her voice, her eyes skipping across his bookshelves instead. More books of mind magic, and, she squinted, a book on exotic fruits. That was definitely new.

“She has been returned to the Ministry. Aadly the board of governors became aware of several breaches of rules and threw down the metaphorical hammer,” he didn’t sound overly upset about it.

“Does that mean DADA is cancelled?” Millicent immediately started considering her options, she was fairly sure she could get at least an A currently, if not an EE unless they tested on things they’d not been taught yet. Which considering how the education system was impecably thought out so far, was possible.

“No,” he grimaced. “Sadly, until a more permanent option is discovered, the lessons will be taught by staff who have free sessions.”

She didn’t say anything.

“There will be an announcement at breakfast,” he sniffed. “You will refrain from making unprovoked threats of violence.”

“I will, Sir,” she agreed blandly.

“In future, if you are being stalked by Gryffindor’s you will let me know,” he pinned her with a look. “So we may not find ourselves as we did last term.”

“Yes Sir, if they start stalking me again I will immediately let you know, and Molly, Sir.” Because she was on the clock, and Molly told her she was always welcome to share any burdens. It made her feel warm inside.

“And no more death threats as a response, deserved or otherwise,” he watched her like a snake.

“No more unprovoked death threats,” Millicent agreed, and he pursed his lips before leaving it alone. Not that Millicent ever threatened when unprovoked. She was much more of a live and let live person. And if she needed to, she could pull a Malfoy and declare anything as being provocative.

He allowed her to leave for breakfast, the early morning start having her yawning at the table. Ginny flopped down opposite her, ignoring the squawks from the Slytherin idiots.

“Morning,” Millicent greeted her, rolling her eyes as the Twin’s appeared shortly after, settling down on either side of Millicent.

“Aw, detention before school even started, making us proud already,” Fred went to ruffle her hair, pulling his hand back as she glared at him.

“It wasn’t a detention,” she sniffed. Zabini scoffed from slightly further down the table, looking blank as she turned her glare onto him. “It was a meeting, with my Head of House.”

“So you didn’t threaten to murder half of your house?” George asked with a smirk.

“Hardly that, I offered to colour the walls a bit,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Anyway, how do you know?”

“It spread around the school,” Ginny answered, “Apparently you’ve come back unhinged having murdered Umbridge.”

“What?” Millicent blinked.

“That’s why you were missing for the last three weeks of term,” Zabini piped up, before pretending he hadn’t spoken.

Millicent stared.

“And that you’re being kept under observation, to see if you’ll snap and murder everyone,” Fred added gleefully.

“Why the fuck would anyone think that?” Millicent asked. “I know the school gives little to no care about the safety of its students, but if I’d actually murdered someone, they would’ve carted me off to get kissed already.”

“It’s because you have dirt on someone important,” Zabini answered, sliding down a seat so there was only one between him and Ginny.

“Oh yes, so much dirt that they’d let me run amock killing people without any consequences,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “That well-known loophole.”

“They think Professor Snape can keep you on the straight and narrow,” Zabini got into the swing of things and sounded almost gleeful for him.

“Of course,” Millicent agreed. “That makes perfect sense.”

She could run with it, it’d keep the masses at bay. She had promised to keep her head down as much as possible though, and she doubted playing into being a crazy murderer would count. Or not in a way she could explain anyway. “Except for the fact that I’ve been at home for the last six weeks, and Umbridge was still teaching up until three weeks ago.”

“Milly, we all know you had to plan for three weeks and were secretly living in the tunnels plotting until you found the right time to strike and do away with her,” Fred teased.

“Of course, sorry I forgot that’s where I was. I thought I was at home with my Gran, but that’s because I’m crazy and forget things all the time,” she agreed pleasantly, Ginny snickering at her.

“Why are Weasley’s sitting at our table?” Malfoy finally turned up looking like he’d been dousing his head in a bucket of gel. She wondered if it would even crack if she bounced his head off the wall.

“To stop me murdering you,” Millicent answered pleasantly. He rolled his eyes.

“Father got rid of the wretched hag, she was ruining my prospects for running for Minister,” Malfoy sniffed.

“I thought the Minister had to have charm and brains,” Millicent replied sweetly.

He looked at her, and then the Weasleys who were all watching with amusement before heading down to the other end of the table as if she’d not spoken at all.

“Mum wanted you to know that she’s already been to see your Gran,” Ginny said after she stole the last sausage.

“She said she would,” Millicent smiled, ignoring how Zabini blinked in confusion. “I’m going to write to her later.

The first day back was dreadful, she had to scream several times with all the looks and whispers, if not for Mopsy sitting her down on the floor and brushing her hair for an hour, she was sure she would’ve gone on a rampage through her house.

Still, slowly, the whispers and looks started to die down. Ginny would join her for a meal once a day, now that Mopsy banned her from eating in her study room. Zabini hovered with a chair between them at meal times, and now and again the Twin’s would deposit themselves to wind up anyone they could.

Millicent wrote to Percy to ask if there was a rule explicitly stating she had to eat in the Hall. There wasn’t, but Molly and Gran had come to a decision that it was better for Millicent to eat with her classmates. As she was “cutting herself off from making friends” by not eating in the hall. As such, regardless of how much she protested, Mopsy would not relent in the torture.

It was as if they collectively forgot that Millicent was very much persona non-gratis within Slytherin. She might have an ally in Zabini, he was edging closer to making a stand on it at any rate. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure it was possible to be more shunned by her own house, something she did equally back, but still. Ever since the rumours started, as far as most of the house was concerned, she was houseless. Houseless and taking up space at the table while infecting it with Gryffindors.

Between the now very much confirmed ties to the Weasley house, the rumour that Millicent had “gotten rid” of Umbridge kept surfacing. Even with the evidence that it came from the Governor’s board, which Malfoy liked to point out he was in charge of.

Percy had written back to let her know the full details after he’d written to request all assignments and class projects for DADA going forward. Mopsy, according to Percy, had helped by “borrowing” all the reports from the Inquisitorial Squad. She’d known about her notes and assignments, but not that he’d asked Mopsy for that, and when she asked Mopsy, Mopsy had merely chirped that it was all to help Miss Millicent. Millicent was leaving that there, nothing at all positive to be gained from poking it too hard.

Percy’s genius followed through beyond ridding the school of Umbridge. Utilising his schoolmates, work colleagues who had children at the school, and leaving his findings alone while he “popped to get a drink”, even the Prophet was reporting on the deplorable state of education at Hogwarts and after much uproar… Well, Professor Lupin was back.

Nothing at all to do with Millicent. She’d been blissfully unaware, trying to keep up with the coursework for GCSE’s, the last bits of knowledge stuffing most of the Professors were trying to do, and learning how to run again. Her legs were killing her, Gilly and Mary were taking no prisoners with that.

Instead, in the background, a few well-placed comments in the ears of the most influential of Percy’s many circles, had the Minister demanding a solution be found. Which in turn, had the Governor’s demanding that the school rehire the best teacher of the last decade. Sadly, Percy wrote, Professor Lockhart was unable return to due to him having such terrible memory issues. The decision had been minuted and sent out to all the parents after a tumultuous few weeks of half classes with the teachers changing by the hour. Professor Lupin had been invited by the Governors, and insisted upon by the Minister, before anyone checked who it was.

Millicent half wondered who they thought it could possibly be, Moody hadn’t taught them anything, and while Crouch hadn’t been truly terrible, it wasn’t like he could teach them again. That said, she wasn’t aware of all the other professors before the first one who’d died in her first year.

There was some uproar. Only to be expected really. Still, even within Slytherin, there was still a sigh of relief that they had a decent enough Professor back. The first and second years hadn’t a clue what the problem was, even after it was announced that measures would be taken to ensure nothing happened on full moons.

Once a week, Millicent would still make a trip up to the fifth floor to bump into the third year and compare tricks. They’d been over the moon when she’d handed over a couple of books, and while they’d gotten a bit better over Christmas, still had a long way to go. She was starting to settle into her new normal.

February rolled around, no one so far was dead. Millicent’s work remained pristine for once, and she had three friends. Mopsy, Ginny and the third year. She didn’t count the twins as friends, and while she really did like Gilly and Mary, running until she was barely able to breathe, didn’t allow for much in the way of conversation. Still, three friends in school. Much more than she’d had since Audrey left.

She wrote once a week to Percy, sending off her assignments as requested, and not just the DADA ones. And in return, he sent her reading lists. Bill also wrote weekly, mainly short letters, asking how the Cross Country was going, and very occasionally, asking after Mopsy. Charlie’s letters came sporadically, with tales of dragons, and smelling of cigarettes. Molly wrote twice weekly letters, with little bits from Arthur who liked to tell her how the greenhouse was going - she was fairly sure it was to Mopsy really, as Mopsy would get overly squeaky when they read them. Gran’s came attached with Molly’s, which was good because Millicent sent her’s to Molly too.

In fact, it was odd that Molly’s hadn’t arrived yet. They normally arrived at breakfast. Ginny had hers, so Millicent tried to catch her eye, but she was too busy talking with a friend to notice. No doubt she’d appear for the evening meal and she could check with her then.

Or not.

Snape loomed over her, and she barely stopped herself rolling her eyes. She’d been pretty good recently. Between school work, running, and Mopsy, she’d been keeping her nose fairly clean. The occasional accidental stomp on a prick’s foot that was very much accidental, and not on purpose at all. “Sir?”

“The Headmaster’s office, you’re excused from classes,” he informed her, glaring at the table who suddenly found Millicent interesting. “Follow me.”

“Is everything alright, Sir?” Millicent asked the moment they left the hall. Ron watching hadn’t helped, and neither had Potter. Ginny hadn’t noticed though, and she’d not seen the twins. Maybe Ron and Potter concocted something else to get her into trouble.

He didn’t answer, picking up speed until she was forced into an almost jog to keep up. It wasn’t as if his legs were any longer than hers, or so she assumed, his currently hidden beneath his robes. She’d not bothered to consider it before, and now she really wanted to hobble him.

“Ah, Miss Bulstrode,” the Headmaster greeted her as if the last time she’d spoken to him, they’d parted amicably. They clearly remembered it differently.

“Sir.” Millicent folded her arms, standing with her back to the door, not trusting the situation at all. “May I inquire as to what’s going on?”

“Mrs Weasley is coming to collect you,” the Headmaster smiled at her.

“Why?” Millicent span to look at her Head. “What’s wrong? Is it Gran?”

“Mrs Johnson is currently residing in hospital,” he answered, steadying her as the blood rushed from her head.

“Really, Professor Snape.”

“Mrs Weasley wanted to wait until Mrs Johnson was admitted onto a ward before collecting you,” he continued as if the Headmaster hadn’t spoken. “Arrangements will be made if you need to be gone for longer than a day.”

Molly arrived shortly after, pulling her into a hug, as Millicent found herself in a state of shock. “Oh pet, she’s alright, just a water infection.”

Mopsy appeared with a bag, clutching onto Millicent’s hand. Molly spoke to the Professor briefly, before stroking the hair from Millicent’s face. “She’s a little confused, but don’t you worry. We’ll be off now. Mopsy if you can wait at the Burrow, we won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Yes, Miss Molly,” Mopsy squeaked, taking Millicent’s things as Molly whisked them through the floo to the Burrow.

Millicent had her face gently washed, and clothes changed before they went to the hospital where Arthur and Bill were sat next to Gran’s bed, getting to their feet as the two of them entered.

Gran looked tiny on the bed, wires all over and the noise of the alarms had Millicent trembling.

“It looks far worse than it is,” Molly had an arm around her shoulders. “She’s very dehydrated. They’ve put her on antibiotics to fix her infection. She’s a little underweight too, but they’ll soon get that sorted they said.”

“They’ve hurt her,” Millicent mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away. She didn’t dare to touch Gran’s skin, it looked so papery, so breakable. She was covered in bruises all along her arms, and they’d taped something to her nose.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, watching Gran sleep, her chest slowly rising and falling. She could almost hear the rattle in her lungs, even above the slow steady beeping.

“Next of kin is down as a Millicent Bulstrode, is that correct?” A jolly voice boomed next to her ear.

Millicent wasn’t sure where her words were, but she’d tried to answer and struggled to make a noise.

“She’s only fifteen, we have guardianship for Millicent,” Molly spoke for her.

“We’ll have to speak to the consultant about consent issues,” the voice sounded almost peeved about it. Millicent turned just enough to see who the large voice belonged to, a tiny man with large ears. “What I can say is, Mrs Johnson was very lucky someone checked on her. It’s a nasty infection that has been attacking her system for at least several days now, judging by the colour of her urine. With the elderly, it is all about the timing. She might be a bit confused, and not know who you are, but as long as she responds to the antibiotics, we are hopeful.”

“Gran’s not elderly,” Millicent managed to whisper, looking at Molly for reassurance.

Tiny voice laughed a little. “I hope when I’m 97, someone thinks me young too.”

“How long until Julia wakes up?” Molly asked before Millicent could correct him on Gran’s age.

“She was in a lot of pain, and while the medication should be easing that… and with her past history, taking into account a slight increase in age… She might possibly wake for the evening meal, but obviously, it’s not something we can guarantee.”

Millicent flinched as he moved to start checking on the lines. “The consultant will be doing their rounds in an hour, they will want to talk to someone, so arrangements can be made going forward.”

“We’ll be here,” Molly confirmed, stroking Millicent’s hand as she started to squirm, wanting to stop the man from touching Gran. He was hurting her, she could tell.

“Bill love, why don’t you take Milly to the cafe, see if you can get some teas in? Maybe even some cake? That’d be nice wouldn’t it, Arthur?” Molly suggested quietly, easing Millicent off the chair. “Your dad’s got some money, we’ve been keeping some for visiting Julia with.”

Millicent wasn’t sure how they got to the small cafe, with it’s plastic chairs and plastic tea. But he sat her down by a window and left to quietly order some drinks.

“It’s not doctored, sorry. Or not with alcohol anyway,” he gently joked, passing her over a mug of brown liquid. The vast amount of sugar coating her tongue made her choke.

They sat in silence, drinking slowly, Millicent staring out at all the houses neatly lined up, all of them blissfully happy while Gran lay in a hospital bed. It wasn’t fair. Gran deserved better.

“The consultant should be there soon, do you want to go back to speak to them?” Bill asked her, breaking the silence, the tables around them having filled up as she stared out the window.

She didn’t know.

“Would you like me to go get mum?”

She shook her head, that she knew. Gran needed Molly there. Molly would stop people from hurting Gran, and they might try if she wasn’t there.

“We can go back,” her voice sounded so weak. Her vision blurry, she hated it, she hated being here.

He tucked her under his arm as they walked slowly back until they reached Gran’s bay, where Molly pulled her into a hug.

All it took was a soft, “Oh pet,” and Millicent bawled her eyes out on Molly’s shoulder.

The consultant was a stern-faced woman, who didn’t seem keen on Millicent taking responsibility for Gran’s welfare, instead addressing Molly after asking permission from Millicent to do so.

There wasn’t much more to confirm that the nurse hadn’t already told them. There were parts she hadn’t known. Gran spending months in hospital with an aggressive cancer during Millicent’s third year, had come as a shock. The fact Gran had part of her bowel removed when Millicent was only six, was also new information. She vaguely remembered staying with Mr and Mrs Smith for a few weeks, but nothing else. As far as she’d known, Gran was healthy and fit.

Finding out Gran wasn’t in the best of health… The Consultant warned them there was a high chance the cancer was back, and that the symptoms were being masked by the water infection, though until the blood tests came back, it was only an unconfirmed assumption. One Millicent was hoping would be wrong. Gran being in her 90s, something Millicent tried to correct them on, meant there would be little they could do if it had returned.

She also suggested that Gran wouldn’t be waking until the following day, as they upped her painkillers while Millicent was away after Gran had started showing signs of distress.

Millicent gave Gran a very gentle kiss on the cheek, before being taken back to the Burrow by Bill, his parents staying to sign papers.

She didn’t remember much, barring he’d bundled her up in a blanket on the sofa, the fire roaring, and Mopsy curled up next to her.

She woke to find her head in Molly’s lap, her hair being stroked gently as Mopsy curled up against Millicent’s legs. “Arthur’s gone to tell Severus you won’t be in until Monday. Julia’s strong though, don’t you worry. They’ll get her right.”

She sounded so sure, that Millicent willed herself to believe it.

Chapter Text

Over the following few days, Millicent lived life in a bit of a blur. Gran woke sporadically according to the nurses, with Millicent only managing to speak to her once before she fell back asleep. Nothing to worry about, they assured her. Sleep was the best cure for fighting off illness. That’s what they all told her, over, and over, and over again.

Mornings would be spent doing schoolwork at the kitchen table, Mopsy sitting next to her with Miss Oliviette on her lap. Milly would bustle around, dropping a hand onto Millicent’s shoulder when she stopped and stared for too long. Lunches would be spent with Arthur or Bill, then Molly would take her to see Gran for the afternoon visiting hours. They’d sit for a couple of hours, Millicent reading her latest book to Gran, so she would know she was there. The nurses would politely chase them out at the end, and they’d go back to the Burrow to eat with Percy. Bill would sit with them, as Percy went over her work with her, until it was at a standard he deemed acceptable. Afterwards, they’d sit in the living room, fire blaring, as the Weasleys chattered about their days until Millicent begged off to bed.

Gran wasn’t getting worse, but she wasn’t getting better. The consultant booked her in for surgery, on a Sunday, which was never a good thing. Millicent knew they didn’t book routine things on a weekend, not if it could wait until a Monday. She’d overheard some of the nurses gossiping about it, not about Gran, but another patient who’d had to have surgery in the middle of the night, and it hadn’t worked.

Which was why Bill and Percy took Millicent to the cinema after the staff wheeled Gran down to surgery. Molly had to stay to make sure nothing went wrong. She promised Millicent that, and Molly hadn’t broken any promises so far, so Millicent could trust her.

Bill had her cold hand in his warm one, with Percy stealing her other, keeping her upright and moving as they shuffled into the cinema close to the hospital. There wasn’t much on, so Bill paid for tickets to see Trainspotting, a film about Trainspotters. Percy bought the popcorn after her stomach growled at the smell of the sweet buttery balls, the biggest box she’d ever seen. Millicent offered to pay for the drinks, using the emergency five pound note she’d got stuffed in the lining of her coat, but Percy paid, Bill ruffling her hair as she frowned.

The adjustment from the blinding low sun of winter, to the dimly lit cinema, had them stumbling down the slightly sticky walkway, passing a couple of teens who were more interested in each other than what was on the screen. Percy picked the most central of all the seats, grimacing at the slightly obscene graffiti someone had tried to cover on the back of the seat in front.

They sat her in the middle, making her hold the popcorn, as the adverts came on. Her first time coming to the cinema without Gran, and her second time in general. The noise took some adjusting to, but she soon got lost in the bright colours, and distracted by the up-and-coming films, until she’d all but forgotten why they were there in the first place.

When the film finally started, the popcorn half gone thanks to the men either side of her, it took a minute for her ears to catch on. Even being able to hear what the characters were saying, she was lost as to why they were saying it. It felt a little bit like her first day at Hogwarts, the world felt alien to her. The music though, she could feel it coursing through her body, and she wanted more.

“We are never talking about this again,” Percy hissed as they made their way outside after it’d finished and they’d sat through all of the credits after Millicent whined about leaving midway through a song.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it again,” Millicent stared at the poster. “I think I sort of understand what was happening now, and if I watch it again I know I’ll get it properly.”

“We went and watched a kids film,” Bill told them, looking as horrified as Percy. “If anyone asks, it was a kids film.”

“I think I liked it,” Millicent chewed on her lip, considering what they’d just seen. The bit with the toilet was weird, and there was a lot going on, but she was starting to get the hang of it. She liked the ending too, it felt good that he’d gotten away.

They both stared at her like she was mad.

“What? The music was really good. I kinda want to go back in and listen to it again. Didn’t you like it?” Millicent started humming along with the song that had stuck in her ear.

“He climbed in and then out of a toilet!” Percy hissed.

“Yeah, but he was tripping balls, like when Gran gets in the sherry,” Millicent spoke without thinking before paling, reality crashing back down around her. “Gran.”

“We’ll get back to the hospital,” Bill wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “No need to worry, it was just a routine operation.”

It wasn’t until Molly greeted them with a smile, that Millicent relaxed.

“They’ve removed a small blockage, nothing to be worried about. They think she’ll be right as rain in the next couple of days,” Molly reassured her, and because Molly didn’t lie, Millicent believed her.

As soon as Gran was well enough for them to be talking about discharging her, Millicent was whisked back to school. Given the choice of turning up at the start of a day, and being back in time for the evening meal, well, evening meal won by a fraction. If only so she’d get re-acclimatised to being around so many young people again.

“Milly!” the third year bounced over to the Slytherin table sporting a black eye almost the moment she’d sat down.

“Told you to be careful, little twit. Twenty points for being shit,” Millicent frowned at them. It was a proper shiner, they must’ve cracked themselves hard to get that much of a cover to it, close to doing damage to their eye as well. She put a finger under their chin and tilted their head back to get a proper look. “Been to see the Matron about it?”

“Nah, I looked in the mirror, it’s just a bit bloodshot, and the bruising will go down soon,” the thirdie chirped.

“Going into healing are you?” Millicent scoffed. “You should get it checked out. She might give you something to get rid of the pain too.”

The third year grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes as they went to sit down where Ginny normally sat.

“Introduce us to your friend,” Greengrass appeared from where she’d been sat further down the table.

“Dennis Creevey,” the little pipsqueak chirped, even offering his hand. Millicent hissed at him to put it away, while the little brat beamed inanely.

“Camera boys brother,” Greengrass slithered, sliding into the seat next to Millicent as if they were old friends. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Leave him alone,” Millicent warned, shifting to put herself between the two.

“Why? Are you the only one allowed to beat on little lions?” Greengrass asked with a breathy laugh.

Millicent bared her teeth in her best threatening smile. “Something like that.”

“Creevey, return to your table right this instant,” Snape snarled, appearing like magic as Greengrass started to puff up.

“I only came over to see how Milly is,” Creevey had the survival skills of Potter, reaching for a bread roll for his plate instead of doing as instructed.

“I’m fine,” Millicent answered with a narrowed look. “Go back to your table before you get eaten.”

“Ginny doesn’t get eaten,” Creevey pointed out slathering butter on the bread, and Millicent could feel Snape glare at her as if it was her fault.

“Ginny’s a redhead, different breed to most,” Millicent hissed.

“Will I see you later?” Creevey asked, stuffing half a roll in his mouth. Millicent nodded firmly. “I taught my friends a new trick!”

“Table, now.” Snape loomed over the youth, who didn’t seem to notice.

“Later Milly!” Creevey bounced away as if he’d not been moments away from death.

“Quite the little whore,” Greengrass smirked before paling when Snape barked her name. “I meant Creevey, quite the little dark horse.”

Millicent rolled her eyes, sighing when Zabini shifted down a seat to sit where Creevey had been.

“Millicent,” he greeted, as Snape disappeared further down the table to berate a sixth year about their attire.

“Blaise,” Millicent gave him a look. He must’ve been feeling brave.

They ate in relative silence, occasionally exchanging pleasantries about the weather as the main meal switched to the pudding course.

“Bultoad’s been playing with ickle thirdies,” Greengrass prodded at a bowl of jam sponge and custard, clearly not happy about being ignored.

“I will shove my fist so far down your throat it’ll burst your gut,” Millicent promised with a smile. “If I don’t pull out your stomach first.”

Blaise smirked as Greengrass paused. Millicent was fairly sure Snape heard her, though he didn’t seem to have acknowledged it. So she pushed a bit further. “So please, just try me.”

“I think I’ve finished Sir. Do you mind if I leave? I’ve still got lots to catch up on,” Millicent asked pleasantly, accidentally stamping hard on the girl’s foot with her walking boots on, before managing to catch her in the throat with her elbow as she span around.

“Bitch!” Greengrass snarled, reaching for her wand.

“Ten points for language, don’t make me take more for fighting,” Professor Snape drawled, but not before giving Millicent a look.

Millicent took her victory, bending down with a sweet smile and whispering into the girls ear. “Leave Creevey alone. Otherwise, I’ll have to start practicing all of my best moves on you. Don’t think anyone will stop me either. Have I made myself clear?”

Greengrass trembled, before sniffing.

“My office after classes, Miss Bulstrode,” the Professor informed her as she went to leave, Blaise making moves to follow her. “Greengrass, report to Filch for detention.”

“Making a stand?” Millicent asked lightly as they made their way down to the dorms. He looked both annoyed and pleased at the same time.

“Just making sure I don’t get murdered first,” he said with a smirk. “The rumours have you going to rehab for murdering people.”

Millicent barked with laughter.

“And being a child of a mass murderer, we have to stick together,” he shot her a look. She’d forgotten about that. His mother was on her sixth or seventh husband if you believed the rumours in the common room.

“Everything alright?” He asked as they reached the common room.

“Gran wasn’t well,” Millicent answered after a moment.

“It’s good she’s better then,” he replied settling down next to the fire, and she waited for a moment before sitting down opposite him. She barely spent any time in the common room, but Blaise had made a stand, and it seemed churlish to leave him to the consequences alone, especially after she’d riled up Greengrass.

He looked, not pleased, but perhaps a bit relieved when she did. “Had to have surgery, but she’s doing better now. They think she’ll be going home soon. They said I could stay, but it’s exams, and,” she trailed off watching the flames flicker.

After a while of sitting quietly, he started to let her know about what she’d missed in classes, and she shared the terrible notes Potter sent her, snickering over the doodles.

There was a moment, as the common room started to fill, when a group of seventh years tried to oust them from their seats, but after a toothy smile from Blaise, and Millicent standing and stretching, they were left alone until Nott and Davies appeared. The two joining them without joining them.

Studies could be done on the hierarchy of the common room. In-depth, multilayered studies. No one tried to oust them again, not even Malfoy who entered the room, looked around, glared at Millicent before huffing off to practice being a prat or something.

“You could join us in the library,” Blaise offered when Millicent started to yawn, the day finally catching up with her.

“Maybe,” she answered after a moment.

“Or have you got somewhere better?” he asked suspiciously.

“Maybe,” she replied with a sly wink, grinning as he narrowed his eyes. She was only just on first names with him, and while Nott greeted her by her surname, Davies hadn’t even done that. They were hedging their bets still, which she got, but until they made a choice, she wasn’t about to give up the best study room.

She climbed into bed, her freshly turned down bed, with a bunch of fresh daffodils in a jar next to it, and curled up around Miss Oliviette. Mopsy was already fast asleep on Audrey’s bed. Maybe she had four friends at Hogwarts after all.

For once settling back into her room didn’t feel awful. It was starting to feel like she belonged.

Chapter Text

The Deputy Headmistress was having tea with the Professor when Millicent knocked on the door, giving her a slightly pursed look. Clearly, the old bag hadn’t forgotten Millicent’s comments before Christmas, even if she had been ignoring her in lessons.

“Take a seat, Miss Bulstrode,” he instructed, pouring a third cup and pushing it across his desk as she sat down carefully.

“Before we start, I have assured Professor McGonagall that you weren’t the cause of his black eye,” he drawled, all but rolling his eyes as the bag sniffed.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Millicent agreed, having taken a moment to consider her words. A flippant remark would only fuel more mutual dislike.

“He claims you’ve been teaching him tricks.” She didn’t accept it, not that Millicent expected she would.

“Yo yo tricks,” Millicent agreed sweetly, biting down on her tongue as Snape exhaled sharply. She was going to pay for that.

“For several months now?” The old bag peered down her nose.

“He’s a tall blonde, short red head, chubby brunette and sunburnt Hufflepuff. In the reports that is. He also has the dubious honour of being the only person I ever gave points to,” Millicent informed them without wincing. Snape looked almost betrayed by the fact she’d given points to a Gryffindor. She’d also taken a lot from them, so a measly few points was nothing really.

He took a sip of his tea, not looking at the Deputy Headmistress whose lips were pursed like she’d sucked on a particularly sour lemon.

“He probably smacked himself in the eye with it. I know I did when I was learning certain tricks, I did tell him to go see the Matron though,” Millicent offered.

“That is what he claims,” she sniffed after a moment.

“I took twenty points to teach him a lesson too,” Millicent added, schooling her face so as not to grin.

“Severus, really!”

He sipped on his tea some more, clearly enjoying the fragrant brew.

“She isn’t even a Prefect,” Maggy huffed, and Millicent brought her cup to her nose to breathe in the leaves. It must’ve been a Snape special, smelling of smoke and fire.

“She will be,” he announced, ignoring how Millicent blinked. “Talk to Albus about it, he’s the one with the power to revoke permissions.”

“I didn’t say Gryffindor,” Millicent helped. “It probably didn’t take. I never checked what happened when I took points without specifying a house.”

McGonagall took an angry sip, and Snape gave Millicent a warning look. It wasn’t like she was going to immediately go and stand in front of the points and test it. If she happened to be in the vicinity though, and someone did something deserving, well then it would be silly not to test it out.

“Ten points for protecting a younger student, and ten points away for threatening another student with physical violence within earshot of a staff member,” he noted after another sip. “Now that we’ve dealt with all that-“

“Severus!”

“You won’t do it again,” he informed her after a glance at the grumpy-looking older witch.

“Protect a younger student?” Millicent asked innocently, risking a sip of the almost volcanic brew at his raised eyebrow. “Sorry, no Sir, I will not threaten another student with physical violence within earshot of a member of staff again.”

McGonagall dipped a biscuit into her drink with a frown.

“The Deputy Headmistress is here as a safeguard measure for what we have to talk about,” Snape continued after it became clear she was going to ignore it. He pushed a piece of paper across the desk to Millicent.

“Shouldn’t Molly be here for this then?” Millicent checked. “I thought that’s what we agreed upon, to stop Ron from having panic attacks or something.”

“That was before your legal guardian became ill.” He paused. “Due to how entwined you and your Grandmother are within the Muggle world, it has become clear you will need to have a legally binding guardian for social services to have access too. Mrs Weasley will be unable to do so, without unnecessary questions being asked.”

She frowned before it hit her. “Purebloods. No paperwork?”

He gave a sharp nod. “It would take time for the paperwork to be made available, however, there will be questions as to the Weasley’s suitability due to them living four hours south of your Grandmother.”

Millicent slumped in her chair. “What’s next then? I’m 16 in August, legally able to live alone. Can’t we just not tell the social about it?”

“They have already been made aware of the situation, due to your Grandmother’s stay in hospital. We have some grace, whilst you are away at school, in locus parentis,” he templed his fingers, watching her carefully.

“Well, tell them that I’ll stay over the summer,” Millicent winced at the whine in her voice.

“The list in front of you is of potentially suitable legal guardians. The Consultant has spoken with Mrs Weasley, advising that while your Grandmother still has capacity, powers of attorney, and guardianships should be undertaken,” he spoke carefully.

“The Headmaster has vetted each person on the list, and they are aware they might be called upon, but not by whom,” he tapped the paper in front of her. She didn’t recognise a single name. “There is one name missing.”

“Professor Snape’s,” McGonagall informed her. “Which is why I am here. If you do choose him, I will be involved in all of your meetings from now on. To make sure there is no biased behaviour-“ she ignored Millicent’s scoff. “Or inappropriate behaviour.”

“All but one of the names on the list will involve you relocating until you leave Hogwarts,” he pointed to one halfway down. “Several will involve leaving Britain, and one will have you living in Australia.”

Millicent stared at them.

“If you decided you would prefer to come under my guardianship, all of your work would be monitored. This is standard for any student under the guardianship of a member of staff, magical or otherwise.”

She took a large sip of her tea, staring at the names.

“You would not be the first student I will have acted for,” he offered. “And I suspect not the last. Professor McGonagall has been the guardian for five students over the years, and Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout currently have students who they are legally responsible for.”

She didn’t know that.

“We don’t advertise, so as not to cause undue bullying,” the old bag commented.

“How about meetings?” Millicent asked.

“Mrs Weasley may still attend, if that is what you wish,” he handed over some more forms. “There is, however, one more matter we must address.”

“Sir?” Millicent could feel a headache forming already, and he looked even more serious than before.

“The Weasleys have requested to protect you with a contract,” he looked highly uncomfortable, and she could feel her heart sink. “It would appear that your Grandmother has spoken in length as to how best to protect you, and would like for you to live with the Weasleys should the worst happen.”

“Can we not wait then? Get them registered and then I’ll just move for the summer?” Millicent grabbed onto the idea.

“Legally, as it stands, they have declared intent to do so. Have promised the intent to do so. They, however, have no legal recourse should anything, as such, happen. Either within our world or within the Muggle world.” He was bamboozling her with words, and she kept glancing between the two teachers. “A contract would ensure that if anything was to happen, the Weasleys would be able to enforce the contract. Thus making sure you would be living within the Weasley household, as your Grandmother desires, as they promised.”

“Sir?” Millicent couldn’t keep track of it.

“If you were threatened, insulted, injured, attacked, then your betrothed and their family would be able to respond accordingly,” McGonagall answered.

“Betrothed?” Millicent half whispered.

“Simply that,” Snape shifted uncomfortably. “If you were to be betrothed to a member of the Weasley family, it would allow Mr and Mrs Weasley all guardianship rites, within our world. All the while still retaining legal guardianship within another family. Mrs Weasley, as the Matriarch, would be allowed to exert control over decisions regarding outside forces.”

“Control?” Millicent sank into her chair.

“You would still be able to decline a marriage, all your rights. It would mean that others would not be able to impose upon you without her say so,” he answered.

“Like what? I can say no now,” Millicent tried to rally.

“Unbreakable vows, for instance,” he glanced at the Deputy Headmistress. “Until the contract ran out, should you be put in a position where you were forced to make such a thing, it would be unenforcible without her say so.”

“You said I didn’t have to get married,” Millicent tried again.

“And so you don’t,” he frowned. “A betrothal is not a marriage, it is a contract. It would last until your twenty-fifth birthday, at which point, by all definitions of the word, you will be an adult. It will give you time to have finished your education.”

“What if I meet someone?” She was clutching at straws now. It was unlikely she would, but still, she’d been banking all of her hopes on University. Somewhere she wouldn’t be Bultoad or Gran’s granddaughter.

“As long as you were of age, you would be released from the contract,” he answered, looking more relaxed.

“Who?” Millicent didn’t want to ask, but the dread kept threatening to drown her.

“William.” The name hung in the air.

“Bill?” she checked.

“If anything was to happen to William, it would fall to Charles, and then Percival. Frederick then George if they are of age and the worst comes to the worst,” he answered.

She was going to be sick. She was actually going to be sick.

“Nothing will be done without your consent, naturally,” he carried on as if he’d not ripped the bottom out of her world. “William has requested he takes you to your Grandmother’s this weekend. In light of the current situation, the Headmaster has decided that it is for the best if you become a weekly boarder.”

“Miss Bulstrode, do you need a moment?” The Deputy Headmistress asked as Millicent’s mouth began to fill with bile.

“Foolish girl. You are not being married off today,” Snape produced a bucket and handed it over, politely looking away as she regurgitated the tea.

The rest of the week was a blur. She avoided the Weasleys as much as possible, choosing to spend her time in her study room with Mopsy, or by the fire in the common room. Letting the childish feuds wash over her as she desperately tried to focus on something other than the fact that in the space of an hour, her whole life had changed.

Blaise walked her to the Headmaster’s office, carrying her bag, after she’d been summoned up.

“I’ll tell everyone you’ve gone back to prison for the weekend,” he teased, pretending she wasn’t green and trembly. He left her at the door, Mopsy appearing immediately to clutch onto her hand.

The moment Bill arrived, he took one look at her and sighed. “They’ve spoken to you.”

She didn’t say anything until they were back at Gran’s, dropping his hand the moment they arrived.

“Can I see Gran now, please?” Millicent did her best to be polite. The school, Weasley’s and Gran all slapped restrictions on Mopsy, banning her from removing Millicent from school grounds without her guardian’s permission. Millicent hadn’t fought against it, but now she regretted it.

“Mopsy, can you take Millicent’s things to her room?” Bill asked Mopsy gently, who looked to Millicent first. She was half tempted to shake her head, the atmosphere growing more awkward by the moment, until she finally nodded.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the Weasleys now, she’d not been sure since she’d spoken to Snape. Avoidance being the best policy until she could no longer.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” he said quietly as Millicent made her way up the stairs to see Gran, who looked much better than she had in hospital.

“You look just like your dad,” Gran told her with a smile. Someone had put blush on her cheeks and a bit of lipstick on her lips. Molly probably.

“I know, Gran.”

It all got a bit much, and she found herself kneeling on the floor, burying her head in Gran’s lap, bawling her eyes out as Gran gently stroked her hair.

Gran let her cry her heart out for a while, before tapping her gently on the cheek.

“Now you be telling me all about that school of yours. I’ve not seen you in an age.”

“Not a lot to say,” Millicent avoided looking at the door as Bill appeared, holding two cups.

“It’s nice to see you’ve been courting,” Gran sounded so pleased, and Millicent felt her heart break all over again. “Me and your dad thought we’d never see you again, not after all that business with Joe.”

“Gran?” Millicent frowned, and Bill stepped forward, placing the cups gently on the end table.

“Hi Mrs Johnson, it’s me, William, Molly’s son,” he said cheerily.

“Molly’s son?” Gran looked confused. “I don’t know a Molly, Viola do we know a Molly? Maybe ask your Dad, he’ll know.”

“Dad’s dead, Gran,” Millicent held her hand. “I’m Millicent.”

“Don’t be silly Viola, your Dad’s just gone to the shops to see if he can get any flour,” Gran shook her head. “He gets lost so easily now we’ve moved.”

Bill placed a hand on Millicent’s shoulder as she rocked back. “Mrs Johnson I was hoping to borrow your daughter for a moment if that’s alright?”

“Such a polite young man, just don’t be closing any doors now,” Gran settled happily back in her seat, as Bill gently directed Millicent to the kitchen.

“Gran didn’t have a daughter,” Millicent whispered, “Just Dad.”

He didn’t say anything, and Millicent glared at him. “I know my own family history.”

“Mum’s been talking to Mrs Smith,” he looked uneasy. “She’s your Great-grandmother. Your Dad was her grandson.”

She ignored him because Gran was her Gran. She’d always been Gran.

“Mum needs to talk to you about everything, but she thought it might be beneficial to talk first,” he started.

“You said you weren’t interested in marrying a fifteen-year-old,” Millicent spat.

“I’m not,” he said carefully.

She glared at him.

“It’s a safety net.”

“It’s sick,” she got up from the table and perched on the side, as far away from him as she could get.

He didn’t move to follow her, although she kept an eye on him. She now had access to the knives in the drawer if he tried anything.

“Until the contract ends, one way or another, we won’t be alone together,” he said soothingly. “It’s part of the contract, to protect you so I don’t take advantage until marriage.”

Millicent glared at him.

“Mopsy and your Gran count currently,” he explained gently. “Mopsy has permission from Mum, and your Gran to take you to a safe place if you ask.”

“Why?” Millicent pulled her legs up, the drawer open a crack.

“Because you’ve been dragged into something dangerous by one of us, unwittingly.” He sighed and held his wandless hands up. “I’m moving to the window.”

“Do I want to know?” she asked reluctantly.

“Not until you sign the contract, and even then they want to wait until you’ve finished school,” he moved slowly, leaving his back to the wall.

She chewed on her lip, keeping an eye on him.

“Your Gran’s losing capacity, she won’t be able to sign it on your behalf for much longer, and it’s more enforceable if a relation signs it alongside your signature, rather than a guardian,” he explained.

“She’s fine,” Millicent lied.

He just gave a sad smile.

“I’m only fifteen.”

“It protects you until you turn 25, and if you’re still at risk, we can reassess,” he promised.

“I don’t like it,” Millicent warned, he just looked at her. “How can you like it?”

“It’s not a matter of liking or not liking, it’s about duty,” he gave a half-shrug. “I’m the eldest, Charlie might be the most physically fit, but I am the eldest. I have the backing of Gringotts, and I’m the heir to the Weasley fortune,” he gave a small grin at that. “And if they get through me, they then have to get through Charlie, and if Charlie falls, well Percy will be able to use the full force of his Ministry to beat them down.”

“It shouldn’t be a duty,” Millicent chewed on her lip.

“It’s the right thing to do like it was the right thing to interfere with Umbridge,” he said with a sly note.

“I didn’t do anything,” she glared at him.

“And from that,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Percy,” Millicent shrugged.

“It’s not your fault,” he said gently. “None of this is your fault, we just want to make sure you don’t become a victim in all of this.”

“I never thought it was my fault,” she glared at him. “It’s your stalker brothers and his equally stalkery friends.”

“Mum has raked him over the coals about that,” Bill hesitantly took a step forward. “Look, I’m not attracted to you, not like that. And yeah, it’s a bit shit that I’m going to have to bin off a hot date with a pretty girl who liked my hair. But, you’re one of us now, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you don’t suffer for it.”

“I’m a pretty girl, ask Gran,” she flicked her hair.

“I’m too old, remember,” he teased.

“Ancient,” she sniffed.

“With talk like that I don’t think you need to worry about your virtue,” he took another small step forward. “Nothing will change, it just means if anything happens to you, Mum can reign terror on high, and I get to polish off my dueling robes.”

“Nothing else?”

“Well, we need to meet now and again to foster a strong bond, but as we’ll have a sibling or parent with us, you don’t need to be too worried,” he held a hand out, to help her get down, having moved closely enough to almost reach.

“Bond?”

“Walks, not twelve-mile hikes, walks,” he joked. “Terrible films we can’t tell Mum about. Percy already squealed to Ollie, and now the Twins know and want to go.”

“Just during the holidays though,” Millicent checked.

“Unless I’m away with work, most weekends, bringing you to see your Gran counts too,” he smiled.

“I’m not saying yes,” Millicent chewed on her lip again. “But if I did, could we go see Trainspotting again?”

“Never again,” he exclaimed. “It was terrible.”

“The music was good.”

“It was passable.”

“Pureblood.”

“Shall we go see your Gran again?” he asked after she pulled a face.

“Will we need witnesses?” It suddenly occurred to her. She wasn’t sure outside of Gran who she even knew who would that they could explain it all too.

“Mum’s already asked Mr and Mrs Smith.”

Chapter Text

Molly appeared shortly after, bustling in to help Gran back to bed. She smiled kindly at Millicent as she tried to take over.

“Mopsy’s just changing the bed. Why don’t you show Bill some of your tricks? Ginny’s been writing to tell us all about it, and your fan.” Molly didn’t let her decline, disappearing leaving her with Bill once more.

“Fans?” Bill asked, waving a wand over the sofa, not as discretely as he thought. Millicent thought she’d caught a whiff of something as she’d come home. Clearly, she’d not been the only one. It didn’t stop her from taking advantage, curling up at the far end.

“The third year,” Millicent answered after he settled into one of the more uncomfortable chairs. Mopsy hadn’t returned them from where she’d found them and hadn’t explained why there were so many even now.

He looked vaguely interested, keeping his gaze on her rather than on the window, or the fireplace. She couldn’t help but squirm, tucking her legs into her jumper, not used to such scrutiny. The Village all knew what she was doing at all times, they didn’t need to ask. Gran kept everyone up to date, or they’d witnessed it. Suddenly there were people, the Weasley family who wanted to talk to her, to ask her questions and listen to her answers. It was offputting and strange.

“Creevey. I mocked him for his yo yo skills,” Millicent caved after Bill let the silence grow. “He challenged me to do better, so I did.”

She paused to glance to the stairs, just about hearing the noise of Molly talking to Gran. “He’s a quick learner. He practises too. I see him about once a week, show him a trick or correct one, and then he comes back with it done. Not great, but passable.”

“He’s started teaching his friends,” she added after a minute. “I took some of my old books from when I was a kid. I’d mastered them all. Thought they should get some use.”

“Yo yo?” Bill asked when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else.

“I’ll grab mine and show you,” Millicent fled out of the room, scrambling up the stairs hovering for a moment outside of Gran’s shut door before heading into her and Mopsy’s room. The sound of talking was clearer, words becoming more distinct, but it left her feeling awkward. Instead she snagged her two new yo yo’s and her old one, leaving the one Mopsy used sat on its small cushion.

He had kind eyes. Molly’s eyes, as she entered the room. She’d wanted to knock on Gran’s door and help. Gran was hers, she should be helping. Instead, she was downstairs chewing on her inner lip.

“How does it work?” Bill prompted, forcing her attention back to him.

“It’s all in the wrist, momentum,” Millicent answered halfheartedly before showing off the basic move. She passed the teeth marked yo yo to him. One she would never show to Creevey, the evidence of a misjudged flick and the loss of two milk teeth.

Bill looked confused, and she bit her lip. “You can do tricks with them. Gran doesn’t like it when I do it in the house, I’ve broken too many things, but,” she glanced up the stairs. It didn’t sound like they would be coming out anytime soon. “I’ll show you a few.”

Clearing a bit of space in the middle of the room, making sure he wasn’t too close, she ran through some basic moves. The interest was good-natured, and she suspected he’d been told by Molly to keep her occupied. It was calming though, the sound of the string winding, the wood zipping through the air. It was why she did it, it turned her mind off, just for a little while.

“It’s a skill, like anything else. Creevey can do these tricks easily enough, not as technically correct, but enough to look good. He’s got a bit to go though until he can do some of the more difficult things.”

The door creaked above, and Millicent stuffed them into her pockets, smoothing down her clothes with a soft curse. “Anyway, that’s all it is. Just tricks.”

“Dad can juggle,” Bill informed her like had anything to do with the price of bread. “It took me until I was at Hogwarts to see he was using magic to keep the balls in the air.”

“I’m not using magic,” Millicent bristled. Why did everyone assume everything had to come back to magic? She did perfectly well without it. He did look faintly apologetic, so she shrugged. “Juggling’s easy enough too, if you concentrate. Three balls at any rate, it’s all about the rhythm of it, not getting too distracted. Same with spinning plates.”

“You’ll not be spinning any of my plates young lady,” Gran snapped. Millicent hadn’t even heard them coming down the stairs. “I don’t know who brought you up, but we use plates for eating with, in this household.”

Millicent straightened up, clasping her hands behind her back like Gran liked.

“She’s having an off day, love,” Molly murmured, walking past to pull out Gran’s blanket.

“Millicent pet,” Gran suddenly smiled. “Back from school already? Not in trouble again are you?”

“No Gran,” Millicent wavered, glancing at Molly who was smoothing the blanket over Gran’s lap. “Bill collected me so I could spend some time with you. I’ll be going back.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him. I always thought Joe was the better brother, but Bill’s showing me wrong,” Gran shook her head with a smile. “Come here child, and mind me well. You don’t be going getting caught by any Hendry boy, bad blood there, you hear me.”

“I won’t Gran,” Millicent promised, kissing the cheek Gran offered her, ignoring the faintest scent of something sour. It hadn’t been there before. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’ll have a sherry,” Gran beamed at her. “In one of the tall glasses, petal.”

“Yes Gran,” Millicent glanced briefly at Molly to check it was alright, before scurrying out into the kitchen. She’d managed to get the glass down from the top shelf when she heard someone else enter the kitchen. Molly.

She didn’t say anything, only giving her a swift tight hug. She didn’t say anything, for which Millicent was grateful, just holding her gently as if it was Millicent who was fragile.

“Nice cup of tea for you Julia, just like you wanted,” Molly switched with Bill, who perched next to the window with a look that made Millicent want to burst into tears.

“Mum wants to take your Gran back to the Burrow for a few days,” he said quietly. “The doctor came out to check on her and called Mum after he had some concerns.”

She half hated him for telling her.

“I can drop out,” Millicent willed her eyes not to fill, scrubbing a hand over her face when it didn’t work. She owed Gran everything. She could always sit everything later, or by owl, or just not at all. It wasn’t like she couldn’t get by on her Muggle qualifications and she knew she definitely could sit those later on if she struggled keeping up with the distance learning.

“Mum won’t let you.” He looked so bloody understanding. She could already hear the words filling the space, with so many more unspoken clamouring to be heard.

Gran needed looking after, and Millicent, it was all Millicent’s fault.

She didn’t argue when Molly took them back to the Burrow. Blindly following instructions as Gran slept and woke seemingly as a different person each time. By the end of the weekend, Millicent was desperate to flee, feeling wretched as she kissed Gran goodbye whilst she slept, not wanting to be unrecognised or berated again.

She couldn’t face the kindly faces of the Weasley’s who all seemed to just know what to do. She struggled to sleep in Ginny’s bed alone, whilst Mopsy made sure Gran didn’t get up and wander in the middle of the night and hurt herself.

“Mopsy be staying with Miss Millicent,” Mopsy clung to her hand as Millicent tried to convince her to stay with Gran. “Miss Millicent be needing Mopsy. Miss Julia be looked after by Miss Molly, and Mr Arthur.”

“By next weekend she should be better love,” Molly promised. “She’s on new antibiotics and now she’s taking them properly they are working.”

Professor Snape was waiting at the floo for them both, escorting her back to the dorms after banning Mopsy from taking her back directly.

He’d given them both warning looks, making sure that regardless of who would take on her guardianship, he would be the one in charge of the rules regarding Millicent and Mopsy’s relationship.

“I have arranged a meeting for you with Madam Pomfrey,” he advised as they reached her room. “To answer health-related questions. Molly has advised you might feel better talking to a health professional about your Grandmother.”

“Thank you Sir,” she uttered the words that had no meaning, squeezing gently onto Mopsy’s hand.

“Wednesday, during the study session, with the understanding that it may run into Potions,” he flicked his gaze to where Mopsy leaned against her legs. “Mopsy may join you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Millicent managed more of a smile this time or perhaps it was a grimace. He left without saying a word.

It didn’t help that Mopsy knew more than Millicent did regarding Gran’s health. Things she’d not been told, things she’d suspected, but hadn’t been told.

“Miss Julia be well,” Mopsy curled up in Millicent’s lap, lying to her. “Mopsy be knowing lots of ladies who be getting better from forgetful diseases.”

Blaise making an effort and talking to Ginny, didn’t help. Nor did the pitying looks from Potter and Ron. Or how she’d been given an extension on her assignment that she’d already done.

“She’s not dead,” Millicent paced around the study room, while Mopsy embroidered a cushion for Gran. “They are all acting like she’s died, and she’s not, she’s getting better. Molly said she was getting better.”

Mopsy squeaked, not looking at Millicent, who did her best to ignore it. The world was steadily becoming filled with the overwhelming sensation of a thunderstorm right around the corner. Her ears cloudier, and not even being forced to run with Gilly and Mary was helping.

She’d written five letters to Molly already. Lessons happened, she knew they had, she had notes, not that she could read them. She heard the words, wrote the words, but couldn’t see them. Couldn’t comprehend them. Instead when Molly didn’t respond, she wrote to Percy. Letters upon letters of questions, that she couldn’t send because she didn’t trust her desire for the honest answers.

Finally the Wednesday study session arrived, and she agreed to meet Mopsy at the ward. Blaise offered to walk her there after she’d almost walked off the staircase.

He’d been talking quietly by her side as they walked through the corridors before stopping as Potter appeared in front of them. Even with how distracted Millicent was, she could see Potter looked uncomfortable, glancing at Blaise before looking like he was steeling himself.

“Uh, I’m returning the favour.”

She hadn’t a clue what he was on about, and looking at Blaise, neither did he.

“I’m trying to remember what you said but, uh, do yourself a favour and talk to someone who cares, like Mrs Weasley. Before you die and upset the school.”

She felt her mouth drop.

“Oh and uh, try wanking if girls do that, and getting some sleep. You look like you've already died, haunting the school like a ghost.”

The world buzzed as she felt a white hot rage overwhelm her, and with the blink of an eye Potter was suddenly dangling against the wall with her hands around his throat. “You think this is funny?”

She could vaguely hear Blaise by her side as she slammed Potter against the wall again, ignoring how his legs kicked out at her. “Is this all just some big joke to you?” The words fell from her lips like the water from her eyes.

He was turning a funny colour, kicks getting weaker, but she couldn’t release her hands, they were locked tight in position. She was going to kill him, actually kill him, and all she could feel was overwhelming sorrow. Gran was going to die, and Millicent was going to be left all alone.

She could feel hands trying to pull at her, and she shrieked, her magic exploding out. Potter fell to the floor like a rag doll. Professor Snape was there. Talking to her. She couldn’t hear him. It was just noise. Cloudy, static. And then nothing.

She woke in the hospital ward, tied up like a criminal to the bed. She could see Bill scrawling on papers, surrounded by books, a hand resting on the bed, ink smudged around his fingers.

He said something, it still just sounded like buzzing, and she could feel herself frowning. Seeming to understand, she could feel him squeeze her tightly bound hand, the Matron appearing moments later with a gentle smile. She didn’t understand why, she’d just tried to kill Potter. She wasn’t deserving of kindness.

Her head was gently tilted back, with a potion being poured slowly down her throat. A tap of the Matron’s wand against her ears and the sound slowly came into focus like a radio.

“How are we feeling?” the Matron asked cheerily, and Millicent couldn’t help but stare at Bill for help.

“Normally you would allow your betrothed to defend your honour,” he teased gently, with the Matron shaking her head.

“Professor Snape has been alerted you’ve awoken. He’ll be down after classes are over,” the Matron bustled, lightly touching Millicent’s face, tilting her head around until she was satisfied. “Eyes seem to have healed nicely, focused.”

Millicent tried to touch them, only to shudder as the binds restricted her from moving them at all.

“You were thrashing enough to hurt yourself, even with sedation. We had to take measures to make sure you couldn’t injure yourself further,” the Matron clucked. “Far too young to have such high blood pressure.”

Millicent creaked her mouth open, too dry to do anything, Bill bringing a cloth to her lips to dampen them.

“Whatever was that Man thinking not bringing you straight away,” the Matron shook her head. “Still, we’ll be seeing each other a lot.”

She was given another potion, and fought the wave of sleep, Bill holding onto her wrapped hand.

Professor Snape was there when she opened her eyes, deep in conversation with Bill and the Headmaster.

“Miss Bulstrode,” he looked almost guilty.

“Sir,” she croaked, eagerly sipping on the water Bill held for her.

“Do you feel able to come to the Headmaster’s office?” He asked, clearly not believing she was, and Bill’s face spoke a thousand words.

She nodded, struggling to sit up. She wasn’t weak.

“Shall we,” the Headmaster asked genially, the other two men frowning.

Bill helped her stand, taking her weight as her legs threatened to give out, with Professor Snape handing over a thick robe to cover her hospital gown.

“Mipsy, please take Miss Bulstrode and Mr Weasley to my office,” the Headmaster summoned an elf who stared at Millicent with wide eyes. Mipsy wasn’t as smooth as Mopsy’s travel, and Millicent tried to make a note to remember to tell Mopsy that. She wasn’t even sure where Mopsy was. If she knew what was happening.

Bill sat her gently in a chair, standing beside it with a hand steadying her, a heating charm swelling around her feet.

The Headmaster appeared before Professor Snape, who she’d not seen look so pissed off since he’d pulled Potter out of her room.

“Am I going to prison?” Millicent croaked. Her arms were still wrapped, but no longer attached to her middle.

Snape turned his back to her facing the Headmaster, who looked confused as if she’d not attempted murder.

“Of course not,” the Headmaster almost chuckled.

“There were witnesses,” Snape almost snapped.

“I didn’t mean to, I just stopped thinking,” Millicent confessed.

“Witnesses saw Potter approach you, touch you and insult you,” he expanded upon. “There are concerns about the severity of your response, but under the circumstances, and with the precedents, if you had managed what He Who Should Not Be Named failed to do, you wouldn’t face more than a tap on the wrist.”

She stared, looking between Bill and the Professor. Surely he was lying. She’d almost killed Potter, she’d known what she was doing, she could see what she was doing.

“He is currently suspended, now he’s been healed,” Snape looked uncomfortable.

“Sir?”

“You could insist he is expelled,” he continued, giving the Headmaster a quelling look.

“I almost killed him,” Millicent whispered.

“You protected yourself, crudely, but still.”

“Obviously, the Headmaster would prefer not to expel Potter,” he sneered, “However, in this, it is not his choice. The choice is yours.”

“I almost killed him,” Millicent stared. “Isn’t that enough?”

Bill’s fingers flinched fractionally, and she tried to twist to look up at him properly.

“Mum can’t be involved,” he met her look honestly. “Not until you’ve made a choice. She’s concerned that you will feel pressured.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Millicent that Molly might have mixed loyalties. Bill squeezed her hand gently once more with a sad smile.

“Even if it’d been Ron, she still would fully support you,” he said plainly.

“I overreacted,” Millicent confessed, hanging her head. “I’ve got anger issues, and I overreacted.”

“He touched you, blocked you from leaving, he then used insulting language,” Bill corrected her gently. “He doesn’t deny it, and offered his memory unprompted. His accounts lined up with those of the witnesses, and not just that of your house mate. More than one witness claimed he told you to die.”

“A simple misunderstanding,” the Headmaster offered and Millicent felt Bill’s fingers clench. She glanced at him, eyes wide at the barely restrained anger. “A poor decision, and a worrying one, but nothing that can not be redeemed.”

“What I did was enough,” Millicent shivered.

“Will you allow me to follow this through?” Bill asked, his voice sounding blurry.

Professor Snape cursed, she could tell by the shortness of it, casting something elaborate in her direction, the world suddenly feeling fluffy and soft. Even Bill lost his hard edges, becoming softer than the softest lamb at the spring festival.

So soft, springing, warm and springing and soft.

She woke up in the ward, Ginny sprawled out in a chair, playing with Millicent’s yo yo, badly, worse than Creevey had been. Creevey was perched on Millicent’s bed, chattering happily, and Millicent wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“You look terrible,” Ginny announced as Millicent tried to sit up. “Bill’s talking to the Matron.”

Millicent blinked, feeling a little woozy.

“He deserved it,” Ginny sniffed. “If it’s been me, I would’ve ripped his dick off.”

“Miss Weasley,” the Matron hissed, appearing like a black cloud behind her. “I will not tolerate such language in my ward.”

“Ginny,” Bill frowned, before offering Millicent a soft smile.

“Even Hermione’s pis- annoyed at him,” Ginny shrugged, catching herself as Bill clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Millicent croaked, shrinking as Bill started to frown at her.

“You don’t touch people unless they say it’s alright to, everyone knows that,” Creevey rolled his eyes. “Colin’s saved the photo for you, well he’s given a copy to Zabini, so it can be used in a court of law for when you sue him.”

“No one’s suing anyone,” the Matron tutted. “Really, the ideas you children come up with. Now out, Miss Bulstrode need’s her bandages changing.”

“I’ll be back after lunch,” Ginny winked, draping an arm over Creevey’s shoulders. “I’ll bring you back some real food.”

Bill helped her sit properly, as the Matron fussed, her hands coming free as the bandages were gently unravelled, and she couldn’t help but look at the pale wrinkly things. She was missing a couple of nails.

“You wouldn’t stop scratching and biting at them,” he informed her. “They’ll grow back soon enough.”

“The medication’s working, your blood pressure is down to almost normal levels,” the Matron sounded pleased. “If you get any headaches, feeling lightheaded, visions, or nausea, inform me immediately.”

“Now, William, if you could leave us,” she shooed him behind the curtain, Millicent still able to see his shoes as she was stripped, the Matron gently palpitating her limbs and chest, before handing her a bedpan. “He can’t hear.”

Millicent managed to use it, after the Matron turned around, cheeks heated as it was taken from her, and an elf was summoned to give her a sponge bath.

“No hot baths, lukewarm showers only for the next week, with assistance,” Matron instructed sternly. “I want you to walk a lap of the ward before getting back into bed, so I can monitor you, and then William will walk you a little further, so you get some fresh air.”

“In the gown?” Millicent asked, squirming as lotion was lathered over her skin, cold and clammy.

“Soft clothes only,” the Matron gave her a small smile. “William has brought you some, and some slippers.”

She didn’t recognise the clothes, but they were the softest things she’d ever worn, soft and cuddly, with the slippers engulfing her feet in fleeceline clouds.

The walk around the ward was a little unsteady, both Bill and the Matron hovering by her side, but it didn’t take long for her balance to kick in, and she was able to walk in a straight enough line without wobbling.

“It’s the blood pressure,” the Matron assured her. “And you’ve been lying down for a while.”

“How long?” Millicent asked, not thinking about it until now.

“Three weeks,” Bill answered after glancing at the Matron.

“Mopsy?” Millicent asked, with half a glance at the Matron, who pretended she hadn’t heard the question.

“With Julia,” Bill grimaced. “For her own safety.”

Millicent bit her lip, closing her eyes until her body started to waver. She wasn’t sure what day of the week it even was, the halls feeling emptier than normal as they walked slowly outside. “I’m going to be so far behind,” she suddenly realised.

“Percy’s going to help you catch up, if I can’t,” Bill said as if it was a normal thing.

Millicent didn’t know what to say, so kept her mouth shut, shivering at a sudden burst of wind. A heating charm surrounded her, and she gave him a small thankful nod.

Snow covered the lawns, misting the trees, dulling the sound so she had to click her fingers to check her hearing wasn’t going again. “We won’t be long, once around the path and back to the ward,” he promised.

It should’ve been awkward, and she wasn’t happy about the amount of fleeces she was wearing, or the beige big slippers they’d insisted she wear instead of pulling on her boots. But. She wondered if Ginny felt this way, safe. He felt safe. Which was stupid because she hardly knew him.

“So what does a curse breaker do?” Millicent asked, kicking snow instead of picking her feet up.

“I break curses,” he sounded amused. He waited long enough for her to pull a face, before expanding. “Sometimes I work in the office, researching, or if something’s brought in that’s cursed, it’ll go into quarantine and we’ll work on it there. Other times I’ll go out to sites, or homes, or even a door in a wall that cursed anyone who passed through to develop creeping rashes that caused infertility if left untreated.”

“Why?”

He took a moment to answer. “Our ancestors were both creative and terrible.”

“Sounds interesting,” she muttered, flinching as she saw a broom in the distance.

“I can arrange a visit for you, to see my office,” he offered. “Ginny’s been on at me for ages to show it off.”

“Maybe,” Millicent chewed on her lip. “Does this mean it’s official?”

He winced, and she tried to speed up. “It’s fine, I don’t need to know.”

“You do, it involves you,” he sighed, catching up easily. Which was rude, he could’ve at least attempted to struggle. “If you feel well enough, we will try again after evening meal. Mopsy will need to be here, and Severus is teaching until then.”

“Why does Mopsy need to be here? You said it wasn’t safe for her to be here,” Millicent clamped onto his arm as she could feel herself starting to panic. A swell of nausea hit at the idea of Mopsy being in danger, with him catching her by the arms as her legs started to give way.

He half carried her back to the ward as her eyesight became blurry. The Matron gave them both a stern look, forcing another potion into Millicent’s hands.

“You were warned not to upset Miss Bulstrode, William,” the pursed lips, the stern expression, she could’ve been related to McGonagall.

“It was my fault,” Millicent whispered, the throbbing behind her eyes easing. “I started worrying about Mopsy, and it made me think of Gran too.”

There was a brief exchange of looks between Bill and the Matron, before her expression gentled. “Your Grandmother is doing much better. I’ve been to visit, as a favour to Molly and Severus. She’s bright and alert, the medication worked, and with enough fluids in her system, she will continue to remain so. She did ask about you.”

“She’s well?” Millicent tried to lean forward, only to be pressed easily into the bed by the Matron.

“Yes,” Bill answered, looking guilty. “I apologise, I should have informed you sooner.”

Millicent chewed on her lip. “Can I go see her?”

“Not yet. In a couple of days perhaps, when you’ve stopped bleeding,” the Matron spoke plainly.

“Bleeding?” Millicent asked.

“From the eyes,” the Matron clucked.

“Because of the blood pressure?” Millicent checked, reaching out to her eyes, only for her fingers to be gently removed by Bill.

“A little bloodshot, but nothing to worry about currently,” the Matron wasn’t as reassuring as Millicent hoped. She was handed a small mirror, she didn’t recognise the reflection. He eyes stood out red and bruised against the greyish pallor of her skin, lips chapped, and welts running down her cheeks.

“They are healing,” the Matron noted.

“I’ve got the too old part covered, you can have the grey,” Bill teased as Millicent stared at her reflection.

“Rest will be for the best,” the Matron instructed, waving Bill away. He left promising to explain things properly later on.

Millicent vaguely remembered Ginny appearing with the Twins, writing stuff and then nothing until she woke up to a bowl of broth and a cupcake with a smiley face.

“Can I have a shower?” she asked, once the empty bowl was taken away.

If Millicent hadn’t been so used to Mopsy staring at her while she was naked, Joffy’s wide eyes never leaving her body would’ve given her cause for concern. Instead she ignored it for the most part, taking it slowly as she scrubbed her hair clean. Leaving her feeling almost human when Bill appeared to escort her up to the Headmaster’s office.

“You look happier,” Bill commented, holding the door open.

“I don’t look dead,” she agreed. “Washed my hair.”

“I can tell,” he gently teased, moving to support her as Mopsy launched at Millicent, even as the Professor shouted Mopsy’s name.

“Hi Mopsy,” Millicent struggled to lift her up, her arms still weak from being restrained for so long.

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy squeaked, looking excited, and Millicent gave Bill a curious look.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Professor Snape growled.

“Sorry Sir,” Millicent managed, helped by Bill, to shift Mopsy over so she could perch on the chair she had before Christmas. The Headmaster being there was no surprise, but Professor Lupin and the man from before was.

“Molly’s on her way, Arthur was late getting back from work,” the Headmaster smiled at her.

“Is Potter coming?” she asked Bill.

Professor Lupin gave a pained look. “Harry’s not allowed out of his room without supervision.”

“I am sorry Sir,” Millicent apologised, “I hope he’s alright.”

Professor Snape hissed, and she hugged Mopsy tighter.

“Professor McGonagall is available if you wish for her to attend,” the Headmaster announced cheerily.

“Only if you wish it,” Professor Snape snapped. “You can be assured she was as concerned as we were by Potter's behaviour, and does not pin any of the blame on you.”

Millicent couldn’t help but give him a dubious look. “As I said, entirely your decision.”

Awkward was not the word for it, as Millicent let her gaze wander Dumbledore’s shelves, while they waited for Molly. She’d been in here often enough. He was messy. Gran would’ve said something, and she could feel Bill’s hand on her shoulder, warm and steady. She brought her hand up to her face, and checked, no blood.

“Milly love,” Molly stepped through and immediately dragged her into a hug. “Your Gran’s much better now, much much better, complaining we don’t have a proper telly and everything.”

Millicent giggle sniffed into her shoulder. “So don’t you be worrying about that.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, offering Molly her chair, who merely widened it and dragged her down, her hands covering Millicent’s, Mopsy slipping onto Millicent’s lap ignoring Professor Snape’s soft muttering about the situation.

“Where’s Minerva?” Molly asked with a stern expression.

“Miss Bulstrode hasn’t requested her,” the Headmaster twinkled.

“I think she should be here,” Molly instructed, and Millicent merely nodded. Molly knew best.

It took another minute for Mipsy to appear with the Deputy Headmistress.

There was an awkward pause, before Dumbledore clapped his hands together with a faux smile on his face. “Now, you are probably wondering why we are all here.”

“I almost killed Potter,” Millicent said plainly.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Professor Snape hissed, and Molly tutted gently.

It didn’t go anywhere to breaking the awkwardness, she had to admit. “Sorry Sir.”

“The contract and the guardianship,” Bill said gently.

“I thought it was done?” Millicent glanced at Molly.

“Not quite,” Professor Snape said with a small sigh. “There have been some liberal uses of confusion and no comments.”

“I don’t understand,” Millicent said honestly. “I thought the Matron said he was my betrothed?”

“He will be,” Professor Snape answered. “Once you sign the contract.”

“I don’t understand why everyone has to be here for that,” Millicent looked at Bill who shook his head.

“There is a question about bride price,” Professor Snape looked as uncomfortable as Millicent felt hearing it.

“Bride price?”

“Mopsy,” Bill answered.

“But Mopsy isn’t mine,” Millicent pointed out even as Mopsy squeaked unhappily.

“Isn’t yours yet,” Professor Snape glared at the Headmaster. “There is an order of events that need to happen, in short order, with witnesses. Impartial witnesses.”

“So Professor Lupin and…” Millicent had been introduced at Christmas but he’d been the other end of the table and she’d had other things on her mind.

“Black.” He ground out, spitting the name as if a curse, and the man didn’t look any happier about it.

“Sirius isn’t able to act as a witness,” Molly said kindly. “Sirius is here for later. Minerva is here to act as this witness.”

“Do I need to read anything?” she checked. She wasn’t sure she had the capacity to read anything complex. Her brain felt like it was swimming with all the potions she’d drunk, and someone had cast the soft cloudy lamb spell on her again.

“You should,” Professor Snape said after a moment. “Will you retain any of it?”

“Probably?” She checked with Molly who gave her a fond smile.

“As your future guardian, do you trust me to do so on your behalf?” He asked, slightly less sharp than before, or maybe that was because Molly was turning into a marshmallow.

“Yes Sir,” she agreed, squeezing Molly’s hand gently, marvelling at how it squished through her fingers.

There was a small curse and the room was freezing. “Really Albus, do I need to summon Poppy?”

Millicent shivered, glancing at Bill as his heating charm warmed her feet. “Miss Bulstrode, would you be happy for William to live at the cottage to maintain it while you are in education?”

“What about Gran,” she asked. “And what about when I’m home for the holidays?”

Molly looked pleased at her question. “Bill will come home, or if you would like him to stay, we can arrange for someone else to be there with you both.”

“Like Gran,” Millicent agreed.

“Any changes to the house will go through Miss Bulstrode first, and changes to wards, will be supervised by her guardian,” he snapped.

“Percy wanted to make sure someone read it,” Bill said calmly.

“So I see, the colour green will not be worn on Tuesdays?” He crossed it out. “There are no clauses for Miss Bulstrode’s fidelity.”

Bill continued to look calm.

“If Bill can be single for ten years, so can I.” It wouldn’t be too bad.

“You will be punished if you break it,” Professor Snape advised.

“It’s the last thing on my mind,” Millicent did her best to remain calm.

“You are only fifteen.”

“So I’m going to be a slut?” Millicent fought the softness away.

“No one is saying that dear,” Molly patted her hand.

“Bill said if I met anyone we could break it anyway?” Millicent twisted to look at him, going momentarily dizzy.

“All parties would have to agree to that,” Professor Snape advised.

“Percy added a clause for it,” Bill answered.

“So he did. The terms for infidelity are very narrow, nothing other than deliberately not informing your betrothed of consensual penetrative sexual union will count,” and Millicent could’ve gone her entire life without hearing him say that.

“On Millicent’s behalf, on my behalf it’s broader,” Bill narrowed his gaze, Snape gave a sharp nod.

“Mopsy is to be retained within Miss Bulstrode’s family, in the event of the breaking of the contract, or any subsequent marriage. Any children will be provided for, the rest seems reasonable.” He sounded almost perplexed by it.

“Should I sign it?” Millicent asked Bill.

“Not yet,” he rested his hand on her shoulder. “The Headmaster needs to do his part.”

She wasn’t sure what he did, but Mopsy looked paler, her teatowel losing the Hogwarts insignia, and she grabbed onto Millicent as if she was drowning.

Bill handed Millicent one of Millicent’s tops, which she took with a blank look. “It’s for Mopsy.”

It took her another moment to work out what he meant, and another sharp blast of freezing air through the room, before she gently pulled the top over Mopsy’s head, her co-ordination not helped by Mopsy’s movements, but no one offered her any help and she was left to struggle by herself. Only when it was on, did Professor Snape offer up his words of wisdom. “You only needed to hand it to her.”

“Now, Mopsy of house Millicent Bulstrode, kin of Julia Johnson, I give you permission to attend to your Mistress within Hogwarts grounds,” Dumbledore rumbled.

“Now we sign,” Bill nudged her gently.

She did so blindly signing her name against the places she was pointed to, before Professor Lupin and the Deputy Headmistress followed. The date looked wrong, but Millicent didn’t have a clue what day it was still.

“Now that’s done, welcome to the family,” Molly kissed her on the cheek. Bill gave a small grin. “Legally anyway.”

“I’m on the clock,” Millicent remembered.

“You are on the clock,” Molly hugged her tightly. “We still have more business sadly.”

“Professor Snape?” she checked with Molly.

“I can witness, as can Mum, only one of us though, so there is no hint of complicity,” Bill answered.

“Can Molly?” she checked again, and Molly gave a delighted squeeze. “Mr Smith has already signed, don’t worry about the date dear, leave that to Severus.”

“What does it mean?” She had the quill hovering.

“For you, not much, he will attend any meetings you have as a guardian, instead of head of house, and Bill, Arthur and I will also be able to attend to support you,” Molly beamed.

“It’s another safety net, in case anyone tries to take ownership of you,” Bill said calmly. “If someone appears with ill intentions, you now have several blocks for them to get through before they reach you. Hopefully providing time for alternative arrangements to be made.”

“You don’t mind?” Millicent checked with Professor Snape.

“It’s a bit late for me to mind now,” he groused, stopping as she flinched. “I would do this for any of my students who were in need of it. I have acted as a legal guardian for several students since I started. You will not have to live with me, in fact I insist upon you not. I will not be attending house warming parties, or listening to you cry about your love life. I will however do my best to keep you out of legal difficulties.”

“You don’t want me to name any offspring after you,” Millicent asked the warmth and the softness unguarding her tongue. He looked positively repulsed by the idea.

“I will petition the Ministry for it to be changed immediately should that happen.”

She signed it as he spluttered, passing it over to Molly who gave her a fond look.

“Miss Millicent be having only girls,” Mopsy declared.

“I also will be advising you on house elf rules,” he narrowed his gaze at Mopsy.

“Serena?” Millicent asked, trying to work out if there was a female version of Severus. “Servina? Selena?”

“While I am no longer allowed to remove points from you, I can certainly bully someone else into doing it for me,” he glared at her.

“You can’t take points?” Millicent blinked, and then blinked again, because blinking was fun.

“It is meant more to stop guardians gifting their wards points, than taking them away,” the Headmaster seemed highly amused. “Lemon drop?”

“Lemon drop, drop lemon, drop drop drop,” Millicent hummed, blinking over and over again. “Can I go now?”

“Albus, if I feel that wretched spell one more time I will do something I will not regret,” the tabby cat hissed, and Millicent felt like being a cat.

“Puurrr hisss meowww, where’s Miss Oliviette the Seventh?” Millicent asked, her lap free of cat.

“She’s with your Gran keeping her company,” Molly stroked her hair, and Millicent tried to purr. “We just need to talk about one more thing, and then we can go.”

“One more thing,” Millicent agreed, starting to hum the tune from the film she’d seen, and she caught Bill pale beside her.

“Harry,” Professor Lupin dropped the name in the room like a bomb, a smelly silent bomb.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Millicent sang his name to the tune. The man whose name she’d already forgotten gave her a strange look. “It’s a lust for life, lust for life, lust for life.”

“How did you know that?”

“Have you not paid attention to anything? Miss Bulstrode grew up with her Muggle Grandmother. This is not the time for nonsense,” Professor Snape snapped.

“Trainspotting,” Millicent answered with a sigh. “We should see if we can rent it, Gran has a card.”

“Does Milly need to be here for this?” Molly asked, frowning as Millicent started to stare at her hands, they were so pale, they’d never been this pale before, ever. They were usually reddened with the wind.

“Sadly,” Professor Snape sighed.

Molly let her plait her hair, while they talked, she wasn’t sure what they agreed on, but Molly’s hair was so pretty, and Millicent’s fingers weren’t working well, but Mopsy made good second hands.

“I am sorry I killed Potter,” Millicent chirped up as they started to stand.

“Harry isn’t dead dear,” Molly gently extracted Millicent’s fingers. “We’ll talk about it when you come to visit.”

“I know Harry isn’t dead,” Millicent blinked rapidly. “I don’t know a Harry, other than in the village, it’s a popular name. Gran’s solicitor is Harry, he has no sense of smell, and he likes gooseberries.”

“Any meetings I want to be informed about,” Molly instructed. “And obviously William will be alerted.”

Chapter Text

Millicent didn’t want to remember any of the meeting, but it came flooding back and sent her into a cringing spiral when she woke up the following day. Only the lukewarm bath and an easing of her pain medication got her out of bed and open to seeing anyone other than Mopsy and Joffy.

“Percy’s going to come tomorrow to help get you started with your readings, I am being called away to work on site for hopefully only three days, but it might run on. I will write if anything changes. Mum will be keeping an eye on everything, but Mopsy can contact Dad, or Percy if you can’t get hold of her if you need to,” Bill waited until the Matron was in view to press a kiss to her lips, the same she did to Gran.

They played cards until he had to leave, and Millicent was grateful that he made no reference at all to the previous night.

Percy gave her a long look when he arrived the following day, before pulling out his plan of action, a detailed timetable, that adjusted as he reassessed her ability to concentrate. He didn’t seem too upset when she promised she was better than she had been, before making her come up with reasoned arguments for her History assignment.

“Because wizards lie,” Millicent frowned, she wasn’t sure why she’d even kept it other than Gran liked History. It wasn’t making her brain hurt any less.

He tutted, and she found herself defending her statement, ignoring how he wrote down her points, before pulling out two books and offering her one to use as a reference.

Her head was swimming when he finally left, but she had a clearer plan of action, and a strong basis for several essays.

Another day, and most of the day spent reading through books and scribbling down notes, while fending off Weasley visitors, Ginny bringing her more cupcakes that the Matron confiscated immediately. Even the twins turned up, declaring her bay to be an island of calm in a sea of hormones and exam stress.

Ron hadn’t, and for that alone she was grateful.

She had two more days, until the Matron finally allowed her to leave, under the strict monitoring from Molly, who’d come to collect her for the weekend. If she managed to get through without incident, she’d be allowed to go to classes. Millicent couldn’t wait.

She had a wobble, after she tried to clamber onto the wall and failed, but no one was about to see, so she didn’t tell anyone. Other than that, she managed to steamroll her way through a good two-thirds of what she’d missed, and after she expressed concern about the practical elements, Professor Snape wrote to inform her she would be allowed several sessions of tutoring with individual Professors as required.

She was feeling quite hopeful about it all.

Mopsy had permission to take her to classes, and to her rooms, and meal times were spent in the ward, as the Matron was suspicious of how well Millicent claimed to be. There were times when she wobbled, but those were getting further and further apart. And as yet, other than a few whispers in class, no one approached her at all. It was glorious.

Except.

Ginny was the one who mentioned it. She looked glum as Potter had been kicked off the team, and with it Gryffindor’s chances for the year. “He deserves it, but.”

“The team doesn’t,” Millicent said the unspoken part.

“At least it means Slytherin are in with a chance,” Ginny gave a glum smile.

“You mean, Malfoy gets to be an even bigger git than normal?” Millicent looked up from her parchment, she was almost done with all of the Transfigurations work, and Ginny had offered to take it back with her.

Ginny pulled a face, rolling onto her back, luxuriating on the new rug Mopsy found for the Fourth Floor Study Room, and Millicent wasn’t asking where or how she’d acquired it, other than a letter to Bill to make sure it wasn’t his.

Mopsy had been finding newer stuff recently, better quality stuff than run-down old furniture, and Millicent hadn’t wanted to approach Sir about it just yet. The last time she’d seen him, he was still writing out a list of rules for Mopsy, she really wasn’t ready to poke the bear.

“Mopsy, can you get us some hot chocolate,” Ginny asked sweetly.

“Miss Millicent not be allowing it,” Mopsy shook her head.

“Madam Pomfrey said I’m to drink broth,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Bone broth, until my levels are back to normal.”

“Can you get me a hot chocolate then?” Ginny asked, grinning as Millicent half-heartedly glared at her.

“Mopsy be checking with the healer first,” Mopsy squeaked, rubbing her ears.

“Professor Snape’s been on her case a lot recently,” Millicent explained. “He keeps pulling the guardian card when I try and wheedle her out of it.”

“The worst,” Ginny sighed. “The twins want to come.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Millicent snarked, grinning as Ginny gagged. “Here?”

“To make sure everything’s alright,” Ginny stuck her finger up.

“Didn’t you tell them?” Millicent leaned back in her chair, wincing as her back groaned. She’d been bent over too long, thankfully Mopsy wasn’t around to dob her in.

“I think Mum’s been guilting them,” Ginny winced.

“I mean, other than not squashing your brother hard as a kid, not sure what they did wrong,” Millicent stood carefully, waiting for her head to return to normal.

“I don’t know how it works,” Ginny confessed. “They were in class when it happened, not a lot they could’ve done.”

“If they need to they can, it’s not my private room,” Millicent shrugged. “Just don’t tell Creevey.”

Ginny grinned at her. “He’s going to be devastated when he finds out your already taken.”

Millicent shuddered. “He’s like 10.”

“He’s defended your honour, lots. More than Ron.” Ginny rolled out of the way as Millicent risked unbalancing herself with a kick.

“I can defend my own honour,” Millicent stretched, pretending her foot hadn’t been aiming for Ginny.

“I don’t think anyone's in doubt about it,” Ginny gave her a sly look. “Greengrass has been telling everyone you threatened to ram your fist down her throat.”

“I got in trouble about that,” Millicent nodded. “I had to promise not to threaten physical violence in Professor Snape’s presence again.”

Ginny snorted. “You should’ve seen the tabby cat's face when he did it too,” Millicent added.

“Healer says hot chocolate is not allowed,” Mopsy popped back in with two mugs of bone broth.

“Mopsy, can you tell the twins, the study room is fine for them to visit,” Millicent asked, having paused mid-stretch as she reappeared.

“Mopsy be bringing bad boys,” Mopsy disappeared before they could say anything, appearing moments later with the twins looking confused.

“Professor Snape’s going to go demented,” Ginny cackled.

“She asked right?” Millicent checked.

“No,” Fred answered.

“Not at all,” George shook himself.

“Don’t tell him,” Millicent tried not to threaten them, and Ginny rolled about cackling.

“Only if Mopsy gets our work,” George bargained.

“And tells Ron where we are,” Fred added after a minute.

“Mopsy goes and tells baddest boy,” Mopsy disappeared, and Millicent groaned, stretching out completely, letting her top fall to the floor until her spine fell back in place.

“You should lie on the floor,” Ginny helped.

“You stole the rug,” Millicent snorted.

“Mopsy stole the rug,” Ginny cackled again. “As soon as I move out I’m stealing Mopsy to furnish for me.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Millicent rolled her body back upright and settled down in her chair. “We’re not allowed hot chocolate, but you can have bone broth.”

Mopsy still hadn’t returned by the time Millicent started a new assignment, and she started to get worried. “Mopsy?”

Nothing. Mopsy always came when she called, it was part of the reason Millicent was allowed to roam free, because Mopsy was there. “Joffy?”

“Student’s calling Joffy?” Joffy appeared instantly.

“Can you check on Mopsy please?” Millicent asked, as Ginny rolled onto her front, the twins watching warily.

“Joffy be checking with Matron first,” Joffy sounded slightly sniffy.

“She’ll be fine,” Ginny said, looking at her brothers.

“It was work, not pranks,” Fred answered.

“Mopsy be arguing with student, Matron be informed.” Joffy appeared looking unhappy, before disappearing, and Millicent felt like tearing her hair out again.

“Mopsy!” Millicent called again, this time Mopsy appeared holding onto Ron and Hermione.

“Baddest boy not be listening to Mopsy,” Mopsy stamped her foot. “They be here, baddest boy be told as instructed.”

“You can’t tell Snape,” was Millicent’s first reaction.

“He’ll go nuts,” Ginny added.

“If he doesn’t already know,” George perched on a desk, she had no idea where he’d gotten a yo yo from, but was doing a passable job of taking the dog for a walk, and she was completely distracted from the gaping maw of Granger.

“You did call Joffy,” Fred reminded them, and Mopsy glared at him.

“Joffy is bad elf, Mopsy is Miss Millicent’s elf.”

“I was worried,” Millicent tried to soothe.

“You have an elf?” Granger finally got the words out of her mouth. “I thought private elves were banned at Hogwarts.”

“Family elf,” George grinned, clearly in a mood to wind up his brother’s girlfriend.

“Ronald!”

“It’s not like that!” Ron glared at George. “It’s complicated, and we can’t talk about it.”

“Not yet anyway,” Ginny hopped onto her feet. “Mopsy that rug is brill.”

“Mopsy knows, Mopsy only get best for Miss Millicent,” Mopsy preened.

“Don’t even,” Millicent waved a finger at Ginny. She wouldn’t be lying if she didn’t know. “Anyway, the twins still need their work, and you need to take Ronnie and Granger back.”

“Mopsy not be touching baddest boy again,” Mopsy sniffed. “But Mopsy do be getting work.”

“I don’t even know where we are,” Ron groaned.

“Fourth Floor, head down the hallway, first left follow it down through the archway and then a right brings you onto the main stairwell,” Millicent pointed.

“Can’t we just stay here?” he asked. “It’s quieter than the common room.”

“It was quieter,” Millicent mumbled under her breath. “Don’t you have a whole secret room you can use.”

“Of course, you know about that,” Ron glared at her.

“I’m trying to work,” Millicent pointed at the pile of parchment next to her. “Unlike your sister who's just here to shit stir.”

“Keeping you up to date with the family gossip,” Ginny grinned.

“Shit stir,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Mopsy if you could get his work, and her’s though she won’t thank you for it.”

“Mopsy only be doing it because Mopsy be going there anyway,” Mopsy sniffed. “Only reason.”

“Fair enough,” Millicent returned her attention to the next paper. She ignored the hissed whispering between Ron and Granger, and desperately tried to avoid watching George rock the baby.

More drinks appeared next to her hand, and when she looked up, even Ginny was busy working, the five of them in exam years a reasonable example to the youngest.

A quiet knock at the door, and the Matron appeared looking slightly concerned. “You missed lunch.”

“Sorry,” Millicent bit back the urge to pull a face as she straightened up. “We were working.”

“Joffy will bring you food, make sure it all gets eaten,” she instructed. “I expect to see you this evening.”

“Yes Matron,” Millicent bit back the grimace as a plate of rich food appeared in front of her. She was getting sick of kidney in everything, but tucked in regardless, ignoring as the others got lighter meals.

She managed to get a good proportion more done as Mopsy touched her arm. “Miss Millicent be heading to the ward nows.”

“Already?” She blinked and looked out of the window, the sky already dark. Ginny was napping curled up on the rug, ink smudges across her face, and the twins were eyeball-deep in small text.

“Mopsy be taking now,” Mopsy warned, as she whisked her to the ward without any more notice.

“Any headaches?” she asked, running her wand over Millicent.

“None, no nausea, no lightheadedness,” Millicent dutifully answered.

“I want to see you tomorrow for breakfast and then if alls well, just at the end of the day,” the Matron smiled as Millicent sighed in relief.

Chapter Text

It was obvious Potter had been using the study room. Ron was definitely using it, and if Ron was using it then his two shadows definitely were. Ron occasionally turned up while Millicent was hard at work, she didn’t actually ever see the other two.

Not that Ron said much to her, or the others really. He looked awkward most of the time. He’d enter the room, glance furtively about, and disappear off to one of the corner desks before getting his head down. The twins switched it up, choosing seemingly random desks, moving them around if Mopsy wasn’t there for no visible reason.

Millicent’s desk stayed exactly how she liked it. She could see out of the window if she wanted to. There was no draft, close enough to the fire that she kept warm. The light was pretty good too, and Mopsy had offered to get her a desk lamp, but as Millicent still wasn’t sure where the rug came from, declined the offer.

Ginny rarely used a desk.

Percy came for a couple of hours every other Thursday evening. Even after she’d caught up on her work. He didn’t help, he was very much for them all doing the work themselves, but he would make comments. Millicent would try and pry more information out of him, about how things were at the Ministry. More importantly, if he had the latest gossip on Umbridge. Percy was tight-lipped about the whole thing, what he had revealed, after Ginny shared the Millicent murdered her theory, was that she was still under probation.

Even Millicent preferred the murdered version.

She saw Bill regularly. He collected her most weekends so she could see Gran. Gran was doing really well, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Gran looking so alive. Which was a scary thought she wasn’t touching with a barge pole.

Gran also thought Gran was doing well, as she’d started to nag at Millicent about going home. As if Millicent could control the situation. It was putting her in a difficult position.

“Maybe it’s time Gran went home?” Millicent asked casually, helping Molly peel the potatoes. Mopsy was with Arthur in the garden, they’d gotten very animated recently about planting, and Millicent tried to avoid it as much as possible.

“She’s gained lots of weight, and she’s walking properly now,” Millicent added, glancing at Molly who smiled gently at her.

She didn’t get a response she understood.

“I don’t understand why Molly doesn’t want Gran to go home,” Millicent commented to Bill. They’d spent all weekend listening to Gran complain about everything being wrong, and how it wasn’t how it was supposed to be. From how the cushion lay on the sofa, to how the chicken casserole had tasted. Millicent thought it tasted wonderful, even Mopsy claimed she couldn’t have done any better, and Millicent didn’t even think she was lying about it for once.

If she was being honest, Millicent wasn’t sure how Molly and Arthur were coping. She was about ready to scream with her bad-tempered relative. “Surely she’d like her house back? Have a bit of a break?”

Bill yanked up a weed and lobbed it into the compost pile. They’d been sent out while Gran had a nap, Millicent’s chattering was too loud according to Gran. Millicent tried not to take it personally, but it was hard. It hadn’t stopped Millicent from apologising and agreeing with Gran, it still sort of hurt.

“Mum’s worried she’s going to stop drinking water again,” Bill answered after a moment. “I’m away for the next couple of weeks, and when I’m not away I’m at work during the day.”

Millicent chewed on her lip. “I can look after her? During the holidays. It’ll give your mum a break, and Gran will be happy,” Millicent offered.

A particularly long-rooted weed was a suitable excuse not to look at him. Weeding the spot closest to the compost pile was busy work. Busy work she was grateful for.

“You’ve exams to prepare for.” She could feel him looking at her. “You’ve worked hard to catch back up again. Mum’s really proud of the reports back from the school. She doesn’t mind looking after your Gran, especially now we’re all gone from home.”

“But she’s not Molly’s responsibility,” Millicent hated the tremble in her voice. It was the exertion of pulling on a slippery weed, that was why.

“She’s family,” Bill said calmly and she sniffed. All the bending over and pulling was making her feel funny, and it had nothing to do with the conversation. “You’ve plans for the holiday. I’ve booked something for us.”

“What?” Millicent asked, choosing to stand up straight before she fell over. Mopsy could kill her later, but she rubbed her dirty hand across her face to remove any dampness. Bill's slight grin said enough.

“I’ve been given permission for you and Ginny to come into work with me, just for an afternoon,” he announced with a bigger grin.

“Cursebreaking?”

“Yes.” He ruined the moment a little by standing up straighter than she’d managed to, with an old man groan, and then a second louder old man groan. “I’m too young to be groaning when standing up.”

“I didn’t,” Millicent taunted, ignoring the fact that she’d been spending a lot of time recently doing the same.

“You did,” he flicked some dirt at her. “I have ears, I distinctly heard a groan.”

“You and Snape both,” she grumbled.

He gave her an inquisitive look, which she shrugged at. “I’m not telling you. If it was important, he would have bitched at Molly about it, who would’ve told you.”

“Despite what you may think, Mum doesn’t tell me everything,” Bill laughed as she pulled a face. “Neither does Severus.”

She stuck her tongue out, before flushing. “Why do you call him Severus?”

“I’ve not been in school now for years, and we see him socially. Percy’s not there yet, but Charlie is,” Bill answered.

“It’s weird,” she pulled a face at him again, and he flicked his wand over her face.

“Oh to be fifteen again,” he laughed, dodging as she flicked dirt at him. “I’ve also managed to get tickets to that band you keep listening to. The twins are going to come, Fred says it’s not half bad.”

Her mouth and the sneaky handful of dirt dropped.

“Please tell me you aren’t lying,” she half whispered.

She’d picked up a cd while they were visiting Gran in the hospital of a Mancunian band. Mopsy had “found” a discman so she could listen to it at school, one of the few things she could fall asleep easily to. She’d mentioned it a few times in her letters to Bill, and shared an earphone with Ginny while having a mandated study break. Still, she’d never considered he’d act on the information. It made her wonder if he might take her somewhere that had a chocolate fountain.

“It’s an easy courting gift,” he winked at her. “Much better than going on a hike with you, and safer too. Severus wants to wait until you’ve finished your exams before the news drops. So far Percy’s managed to bury it as deep as he can.”

“Do you think anything will actually happen though? When it comes out?” He just looked at her. “Alright.”

There were things she didn’t push on. Bill promised in the beginning that he’d explain some things when he could, and quite frankly, she had enough on her plate. All of her grades had been gone over with a fine toothpick, and she was highly suspicious Snape would kill her if she didn’t make her predicted grades.

Molly would be disappointed too. Percy would resurrect her and then kill her after Snape, and Bill would have the shame of having a thick betrothed for the next ten years.

Nine years and ten months though. Or seven? The dates on the contracts seemed wrong, but it was something Millicent was not going to question.

They’d been stood leaning against the wall, next to the pile of freshly dug weeds, enjoying the fairly dry day.

“Bill?”

“Milly?” He’d been using it more often, and she didn’t hate it. She quite liked it from Molly. Gran preferred Millicent, so it’s what she went by, but she liked the warmth from the Weasley’s Milly.

“Did Professor Snape talk to you about Mopsy?” She asked after checking Mopsy wasn’t within earshot.

“Is this about Mopsy absconding with my brothers from the dorms?” Bill checked.

“He knows about that?”

“Twin’s told me. Said she’d kidnapped them first, and then she kidnapped Ron and Hermione,” Bill looked amused, helping her to hop up onto the wall before leaning next to her.

“They said they weren’t going to tell anyone,” Millicent muttered. She’d remind them what that meant.

“They only told me, not even Mum knows,” Bill laughed. “And no, he’s not talked to me about Mopsy, or not yet. We’ve not had a chat about you since we signed everything.”

“That was months ago,” Millicent blinked.

“You aren’t the only thing we talk about,” he snorted as she rolled her eyes. “It’s been busy.”

“I can help if you want?” She offered.

“You have exams to do,” he reminded her again. It wasn’t as if her entire school life revolved around them. The only break she got was the twenty minutes a week with Creevey and her early morning cross country runs.

“Afterwards then,” Millicent carried on. “I’ll be sixteen at the end of August. I can get myself emancipated like a Hollywood child actor.”

“Completely wasting everyone's time up until then,” Bill flicked her ear. “And upsetting your Gran and Mum.”

“You could go on a date with the pretty girl you mentioned,” Millicent pretended not to hear him.

“She’s set her sights on someone else,” he shrugged good-naturedly. “I might have been "ze most beautiful man she ‘ad ever zeen” but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“She must’ve been blind,” she squealed, grabbing onto him as he went to tip her off the wall. “Oi! I’ll tell Molly!”

“You can call her Mum you know,” he relented.

“Not yet,” Millicent bit her lip. “I don’t think Gran would approve.”

He stayed quiet for a minute. “You had post, I left it in the kitchen.”

“I had post?”

“I had to check it in case, there’s no magic.” He helped her hop down without ripping her jeans again. “It skirts dangerously close to breaching the contract though.”

She blinked, utterly confused. She really should read the contract properly.

Opening the already opened large envelope, Millicent squealed as two signed copies of Rufio’s headshot fell out. A lovely hand written note addressed to Millicent and Ginny accompanied it, and they’d even included a folded up signed cinema poster she could put up in her room.

Ginny would wet herself when she saw it. Forget putting it up in her room, this would go up in the study room so they could both enjoy it.

Dante was so cute, and Millicent’s heart skipped just for a moment.

“Do you think I could get it animated?” Millicent asked, only to find she was alone in the kitchen. It didn’t matter, she could ask Creevey, his brother liked that kind of thing.

She needed to get back to Hogwarts to share the bounty with Ginny, she would kill her if she waited any longer.

“Not until we’ve eaten,” Molly chastised when Millicent asked to go back to see Ginny.

“I won’t be long though,” Millicent whined, clutching the stiff backed envelope closely to her chest. She’d need to find a frame for the headshot to go in too.

“I said no,” Molly gave her a stern look. “Whatever it is, it won’t hurt to wait until later. If you need something to do, you can go read to your Gran, she’s awake again.”

Millicent considered pushing her luck, but she was here to see Gran. Molly and Bill arranged all of this so Millicent could spend time with Gran, not so she could gossip like a school girl with Ginny.

“Sorry Molly.”

“You’re a good girl,” Molly kissed her forehead. “Now go read to your Gran before she falls asleep again.”

She had, but Millicent read anyway, not stopping until she was called for lunch. Bill looked highly amused as she didn’t let the envelope leave her sight the entire time. Percy hadn’t looked massively impressed when she’d shown him, but then he’d not seen Hook and so was unable to grasp why it was so important.

Bill dropped her off in Professor’s Snape office, the pair of them watching as she left after being reminded she wouldn’t be seeing Bill for a couple of weeks.

“Mopsy, can you tell Ginny I’ve got a surprise for her?” Millicent asked the moment they arrived at the study room finding it empty. “And can you find something to stick things up on the wall with, that won’t get us in more trouble later when Snape invariably finds out and wants to kill us anyway?”

“Mopsy can ward room so Professor never finds room,” Mopsy stated confidently.

“Really?” Millicent had doubts. Major doubts.

“No,” Mopsy wilted. “Mopsy could maybe do at Miss Millicent’s. Hogwarts be different matter, maybe if Mopsy still be Hogwarts elf.”

Millicent pretended she didn’t witness Mopsy spitting. “Mopsy be thinking Hogwarts not be approving of hiding rooms from Miss Millicent’s mean Professor.”

“Probably. Maybe some bluetack might be a better solution?” Millicent offered. And in the absolute likelihood they were found out, she wasn’t going to get expelled over bluetack. Hiding an entire room from the staff would cause issues.

Mopsy sighed dramatically, then disappeared and reappeared briefly with Ginny, who looked pissed off. Her expression cleared the moment she spotted the large poster Millicent was holding against the wall trying to work out where it looked best.

“They wrote back?”

“Told you they would,” Millicent grinned. “Check my desk, the envelopes open.”

The noise Ginny made could’ve shattered glass it was so high pitched. “HE WROTE MY NAME!”

“And we have a note,” Millicent glowed with excitement. “I wanted to come back earlier but we had to eat and Gran was sleeping so we had to wait a bit.”

“Is she alright?” Ginny asked. “Mum’s not said anything in her letters.”

Millicent wasn’t sure how to answer. “She’s better than she was.” She wasn’t going to say she was grouchier than the tabby cat.

“That’s good news.” Ginny picked up the note and screeched again. “He wants us to know he appreciates us!”

“And we were the first people to write to him from Yorkshire,” Millicent pointed out proudly. “And he has a fan club we can join too.”

“How do we join?” Ginny checked over everything. “We just need to write to the address?”

“And they’ll send us a badge each, and they’ll keep us up to date with what he’s doing,” Millicent purred. “And Bill keeps saying that going to the cinema is an easy courting thing, so he can just take us to see them!”

“Dean’s been talking about video recorders,” Ginny perched on the desk nearest Millicent’s, stroking her photo gently. “So we could get one and the film on video and just watch it again. Maybe more than once.”

“We don’t have one anymore,” Millicent said, pulling a face. Miss Oliviette had finished off the last one, although it had been on its way out, a second hand one that Mrs Smith gave Gran. “Gran kept talking about maybe getting another one so she could record the Antiques Roadshow, but…”

Ginny nodded, it wasn’t like either of their families had any money. “We could ask Mopsy?”

Millicent threw a ball of paper at her.

“What? It’s not like it’ll come from any of us,” Ginny grinned wickedly.

“I’ll talk to Gran about birthday presents. A cheap second hand one should be alright. And we can just rent the film, or buy it. It’s been out a while now,” Millicent moved the poster to the door and Ginny clapped her hands.

“I could ask Mum if we could go halves on one?”

“I’m planning on earning some money during the holidays too,” Millicent said, considering the height of it before using the bluetack Mopsy had dutifully reappeared with. Millicent was not thinking about where she’d found it, probably some muggleborn, it wasn’t a lot, and wasn’t a new lot either. They’d probably not even miss it. And it was much better than sticky tape for this kind of thing. That would definitely pull the paint off the door.

“Mum won’t let me,” Ginny flopped onto the floor, careful to keep the photo clasped safely away from the rug. “Say’s it’s too dangerous and I’m too young.”

“I mean,” Millicent didn’t say anything else.

“You’re only a year older, if that!”

“It’s a big year though,” Millicent winked. “Anyway, I’ve been doing odd jobs in the easter and summer holidays since forever. It’s how I’ve been paying for my robes and stuff. I paint fences, weed gardens, deal with furniture, babysit Timmy, petsit and I spent two or three days cleaning out the cowshed for Joe twice a year.”

“Ugh, you’re so lucky,” Ginny huffed. “Not the cow shed bit though, you can keep that.”

“Thanks,” Millicent snorted. “You could help if you wanted. Molly shouldn’t mind too much if it’s in the village? Sometimes it’s not the best, like pot washing behind the bar. You can hurt your hands, and you don’t get paid much, all cash in hand, but people will buy you drinks. Soft drinks, sometimes a mars bar. Alcohol is only a New Years thing.”

“Feeding Mrs’ Smith’s cat when they go to the seaside for a week is fun. They always bring back some fudge, as well as giving me a bit of money, and it doesn’t take very long either.” Millicent wrinkled her nose as the corner peeled back off the door.

“Bet it’s a walk,” Ginny scrunched her face up. “Everywhere’s a walk by you.”

“You get used to it,” Millicent pushed the corner back hard before settling into her chair to stare at the poster with pride. “Also, it won’t take as long now.”

“Because of Mopsy?” Ginny asked idly, stroking her photo lovingly.

“Because I’m running again,” Millicent sniffed. “You should try it. Lots of fun.”

“I’m healthy enough thanks,” Ginny rolled onto her front. They fell into a companionable silence, Millicent pulling out the latest book her Gran had been reading. Ginny seemed to be thinking, hard. “Milly?”

“Ginny?” Millicent didn’t look up from her book. Another Le Carre, the intricacies of the spy world was fascinating and sad.

“Harry’s not going to fly for the rest of the year,” Ginny sounded torn.

“I told everyone I didn’t care,” Millicent had been listening, and the very fact that Potter wasn’t flying made Malfoy and the other shitheads happy, was enough to spur her on to mention to Snape and the Tabby at her last meeting. Snape had looked a little betrayed, and the Tabby seemed surprised too, even though she’d made her feelings clear on the whole situation.

“Harry thinks he should be punished, and McGonagall agrees,” Ginny admitted.

“That’s because they both think the sun revolves around him,” Millicent couldn’t help the sharpness in her voice. She’d been aiming for bland, and judging how Ginny flinched, missed it entirely.

“Well… They are holding out tryouts for his spot,” Ginny continued.

“Good for them,” Millicent tried to keep track of her place, sliding a finger between the pages. It was hard when Ginny twisted around to sit up and stare at her.

“I’m going to try,” Ginny didn’t sound entirely sure, the lip biting didn’t help.

“It makes sense if that’s what you want to do as a career,” Millicent agreed, tearing the corner off the Tabby’s assignment to use as a bookmark.

“Ron says I’m picking a side,” Ginny growled. “Because it’s stealing Harry’s space, and he’s as much a part of our family as you.”

“I thought you just said Potter didn’t want to play?” Millicent frowned. “So how is that picking sides?”

“It’s Ron!” Ginny glared. “He’s an idiot.”

“The original bad boy, no wait, that’s Potter. Ron’s the original creepy stalker. Just ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Millicent shrugged. “If you want I can tell Molly though, or Bill. Or you should, they’ll shout at him, not that it’ll make any difference, but at least he’ll shut up about it at you.”

“He’ll just accuse me of tattling, and Mum will get upset,” Ginny hugged her knees, looking almost upset by it all.

“Have you picked sides?” Millicent asked, gentler than she’d thought she’d be able to do.

“No!” Ginny glared at her. “It’s not about sides. You’re going to be my sister, and Harry’s in the wrong. He even admits it. It’s just Ron, he’s a prat.”

“There’s your answer then. You could always talk to Potter though, if that makes you feel better. Tell him Ron’s going on at you about it. Maybe he’ll even do the right thing for once and smack Ron for you.”

“You think?” Ginny peered at her as if Millicent held all the answers.

“Or I could, but Bill will get pissy because he’s supposed to do things like that now, or something,” Millicent shrugged. “Snape would probably bitch about me not talking to him first, and to stop choosing violence as my first response. I should really read the contract though.”

Ginny snorted. “Talking to McGonagall would be like talking to Mum.”

They both shuddered.

“Aren’t you slytherin? Shouldn’t you have all the loopholes ready from the contract,” Ginny started.

“I was off my tits on whatever they were pumping into me, I think I almost tried to eat Molly at one point,” Millicent giggled. “It was a bit like this film Bill took me to see, just without a toilet.”

“I want to go see bad films too,” Ginny pouted.

“Once I pass my driving test, we’ll have the freedom to do it without having to get Bill to take us,” Millicent sighed. “Percy wrote the contract, I don’t think he’ll have left many loopholes for me to use.”

Ginny gave a commiserating look.

“Snape read it, I signed it. I know there’s something about not wearing green on a certain day,” Millicent shrugged.

“Slytherin house colours are green,” Ginny pointed out.

“I don’t wear green at home, so I figure I have it covered,” Millicent waved her hand. “Probably should make sure there’s nothing in there that Mopsy slipped in and we all signed without checking.”

“A dozen baby girls,” Ginny snickered.

“She seems to think if we start soon we could have at least twenty,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “And that’s not going once a year.”

Ginny cringed. “You’d have to sleep with Bill at least ten times.”

They both shuddered.

“Bill thinks it’s funny,” Millicent added. “And don’t wish twins on me.”

“Bet you wish it was Dante,” Ginny sighed staring up at the poster, still fondling her photo. “Can you imagine having his children?”

Millicent allowed herself to ponder on it for a bit. “He’d make a good dad, wouldn’t he.”

“The best.” They both sighed.

“Bill would be a good dad too,” Ginny suddenly said, after they’d stared for slightly too long at Dante.

“He’s so calm, it’s like nothing riles him up at all,” Millicent hummed in agreement. “Everything sets me off. It’s a constant battle not to go on a rampage and tear apart half the school, and then Bill’s like this oasis of calm.”

“He’s not always calm,” Ginny pulled a face. “I thought he was going to go full Mum when you were on the ward.”

“I guess,” Millicent pulled a face. “Bleeding from the eyes is a bit horrific. I’m not surprised he was a bit unsettled.”

Ginny opened her mouth as if to say something before shrugging. “He’s like Dad anyway, fine until he’s not. Not like Mum.”

“Molly’s lovely,” Millicent narrowed her eyes.

“She’s an absolute nightmare,” Ginny scowled. “You don’t get lectured all the time.”

“She does,” Millicent refuted. “It’s nice she cares.”

“She’s been a bit better recently,” Ginny gave way a little. “We’re not arguing all the time.”

“I don’t know how you dare,” Millicent confessed. “I never fight with Gran, even when she’s wrong.”

They fell into an awkward silence.

“It’s weird, your family. You all just,” Millicent frowned as she tried to explain it. “There’s always just been me and Gran, and there’s so many of you, and then you take more in. It’s weird. I’m glad for it though.”

Chapter Text

Millicent had crawled out of bed to join Gilly and Mary on a very early morning run. Not officially a Cross Country run, but the two older girls would run for fun most mornings, and invited Millicent to join them once she’d resumed the club. It was the first day she’d felt the need to.

“Miss Millicent be bathing first,” Mopsy asserted.

“I’m going to go running in the mud for an hour, I’ll wash up in the changing rooms when I get back,” Millicent mumbled through a yawn, dragging her hair up into a scrunchie, ignoring Mopsy’s squawks.

“Miss Millicent not be going out like that!” Mopsy stamped her feet.

“No one other than Mary and Gilly will even be awake, it’s stupid o’clock. The sun won’t even be up yet,” Millicent brushed her teeth messily, scrubbing the cloth across her face before patting it dry.

“Mopsy be laughing stock of elves if Miss Millicent doesn’t be brushing hair properly,” Mopsy wailed.

“I need to go otherwise they’ll go without me,” Millicent dropped a kiss on Mopsy’s head and ignored the buckets of tears.

Gilly was busy tightening her running shoes by the main door as Millicent made her way across to her. “Morning Mill’s, Mary’s popped into the girls, won’t be long.”

“Morning,” Millicent smothered another yawn, grinning as Gilly laughed.

“You don’t have to come.”

“Ever wanted to punch someone so hard they go through the wall? That’s about where I’m at, I figured being run into the ground might help,” Millicent started to stretch out, following Gilly.

“Mary’s like that all the time,” Gilly snickered.

“Mary’s like what all the time?” Mary asked suspiciously, appearing around the corner.

“Perfectly turned out, fresh faced and gorgeous,” Gilly answered quickly, blowing her a kiss.

“Ugh, it’s too early for the lovey dovey stuff,” Millicent whined.

“It’s never too early for love,” Mary asserted, pressing a not so fast kiss on Gilly’s lips.

Mary set the pace, the two girls switched it up during club, and Millicent bit back the whine as Mary took the lead. Gilly was a fraction slower, which made all the difference.

It never helped that the two would chat all the way, while Millicent could just about manage to breathe without dying. The cold air biting at her lungs, and the muddy ground making each stride a sweaty sticky sliding struggle.

She was drenched by the time they got back, looking as if she’d rolled in the mud with how splattered she was. Mary didn’t have a speck on her. Gilly’s shoes were covered.

“I hate you both,” Millicent panted, doubled over with a hand braced against the wall.

“Coming with us tomorrow?” Mary asked brightly.

“I’m going to report you to someone,” Millicent half heartedly glared.

“Better get washed up, and then eat something,” Mary patted her on the back, leaving her to regain control of her breathing and heart rate.

Millicent caved the moment they were out of earshot and called for Mopsy who shrieked when she saw the state of her. Two baths and a long lecture later, her mood was… She didn’t have the energy to be anything but exhausted.

She barely looked at anyone as she flopped into her usual spot in the dining hall. Ginny was already there, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed, very deliberately not having a conversation with Blaise.

“Your absence has been noted,” Blaise mentioned after a pause in their conversation about the likelihood of a certain Harpies player making it to the end of the season.

“Really?” Millicent asked hopelessly, all but sinking under the table.

Blaise didn’t say anything, Ginny on the other hand looked at them both in confusion. “But you’ve been back for a bit now?”

“From the common room,” Millicent reluctantly informed her. “Does it have to be today?”

Blaise gave a slight shrug, idly and elegantly picking at the eggs on his plate.

“Ugh, alright, remind me after dinner,” Millicent huffed.

“Does that mean you’ll be joining us for dinner?” Blaise asked dryly, and she rolled her eyes.

“If it was up to me, I wouldn’t eat any meal in here. I’ll be here later, you might have to remind me about that too.”

“I always wanted a career as a social secretary,” he said calmly.

“Whats happening?” Ginny leaned forward.

“I’ve been neglecting scaring the shit out of my dorm mates,” Millicent huffed.

“I want to see,” Ginny whined.

“Hardly scaring them,” Blaise added, not even having the decency to lie properly.

“So dramatic,” Ginny giggled.

“Well, what do you expect from the evil house? Low key evil? In this house we go full on diva evil,” Millicent said calmly. “Gryffindorks have stupidity, Ravenclaws condescension, and Hufflepuffs unerring loyalty.”

Blaise gave her a side eye.

“I like Hufflepuff, sue me,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“A desire to succeed does not mean evil,” Blaise pointed out.

“She’s a gryffindork, I have to say it in simple words otherwise it’ll go over her head,” Millicent waved casually at Ginny who stuck her tongue out.

“Not all Ravenclaws are condescending, Luna isn’t,” Ginny added. Millicent looked at Blaise who looked baffled. “Lovegood, she’s the tiny blonde in my year, wears vegetables.”

“Ooooh,” Millicent’s expression cleared. “Well of course you would say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny frowned.

“Well I’m more than sure I’ve spotted you swapping spit more than once,” Millicent purred, grinning as Ginny flushed deep red.

“Only because you told me that’s the best way to learn how to kiss!”

Blaise suddenly looked more interested. “What words of wisdom did Millicent impart?”

“She told me about how she learnt how to kiss,” Ginny pointed across the table.

“Audrey,” Millicent answered rolling her eyes. “In the privacy of our dorm.”

“Oh,” Blaise frowned for a moment. “I forgot Dubois shared with you. Well, she was French, it makes sense.”

“Audrey was not French,” Millicent glared at him. “Her father was French, but Audrey was Welsh and proud of it.”

“Where is she living now?” Blaise asked casually. She knew exactly what he was trying to say.

“She might be attending a French school, but she is still Welsh.”

“So she is living in France,” Blaise mused. “Well as long as only one of her parents is French, she’ll still remain Welsh.”

“I will smack you,” Millicent threatened.

“Oh no, whatever shall I do,” Blaise snarked, and Millicent considered digging her elbow into his side.

“Anyway, getting back to the point,” Millicent carried on as if she wasn’t sat next to a menace. “Lovegood doesn’t count, you have bias.”

“I don’t have bias,” Ginny squawked.

“Swapping spit on a semi regular basis means bias. We can ask an independent judge about that,” Millicent pointed out. “Blaise?”

“How is he independent?” Ginny squawked again.

“I’m not a lapdog,” he stiffened.

“I meant house loyalty,” Ginny offered some sort of olive branch.

Millicent and Blaise exchanged looks before shrugging. “House loyalty would be not sharing that Parkinson and Malfoy cover their faces daily with extract of snail. It doesn’t mean that I have to agree with Millicent that you kissing Lovegood is being biased to her traits.”

“ZABINI!” Parkinson must have caught the fairly quiet conversation, judging by the screech. He’d gone from Blaise to Zabini shortly after he’d obviously allied with Millicent. He didn’t look overly concerned. Ginny on the other hand looked like she was about to explode with laughter.

“Shut it, Parkinson, it’s not like people didn’t know,” Millicent stared at the purple pug princess.

“NO-ONE KNEW!”

“Knew what?” One of the Hufflepuff’s behind leaned back to ask Ginny.

“NOT ANOTHER WORD!”

“Parkinson thinks no one knew about her snail obsession,” Millicent rolled her eyes, answering for Ginny who was turning purple herself trying to not laugh.

“Oh, yeah we knew,” the Hufflepuff turned around.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNEW??????” Parkinson managed to untangle herself from the table, stalking down to scream up close and personal. A quick look at the teachers table showed them all ignoring the hysterics for the time being.

“House of Escargot has very distinct packaging, Josie’s mum gets it, to stop wrinkles, bit young for that though aren’t you,” the Hufflepuff gave an innocent frown.

“At least Malfoy get’s his sent to his dorm, and not the breakfast table in front of everyone,” Blaise pointed out.

“So really, you were the one who announced it to everyone,” Millicent helpfully added.

“If it’s to stop spots, we use clearasil, it’s on bulk order for us. House secret. Keeps our complexions looking fresh. It’ll save you a fortune,” the Hufflepuff added with a friendly smile.

Parkinson turned an even uglier shade of purple, mouth gasping.

“Oh just go finish breakfast, it’s too early for this much noise,” Millicent scolded, using the tone of voice Gran used on her when she was being silly. Parkinson started to obey before catching herself.

“I’m going to tell Draco about this,” she hissed.

“Oh no, whatever shall we do,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Oh please don’t,” Blaise said without inflection. “See what I mean.”

“What?” Ginny asked over stifled giggles.

“My presence has been missed,” Millicent answered, sighing sadly. “Although, oi, Hufflepuff!”

“It’s Fiona,” the Hufflepuff answered with a smile.

“Millicent - what was that thing you’ve been using?”

“Clearasil, it’s very popular, cheap too and it seems to work. We have dandruff shampoo too. We just get one of the Muggleborns to bring it each term,” Fiona answered her. “I can ask Mary to give you some if you like?”

“It’s alright, I can get some,” Millicent answered distractedly. Mopsy had commented that she was starting to get a little bit of acne around her hairline, and Mopsy’s cure all for all good misses, wasn’t currently working.

“Mother claims using mother of pearl helps with breakouts,” Blaise commented, flushing as all three girls stared at him. “I listen to my mother.”

“I don’t have mother of pearl,” Millicent pointed out.

“Mother has lots, I shall ask her for you, she gets them as gifts,” he answered looking only marginally uncomfortable.

“How does it work?” Ginny asked curiously.

“I shall ask for instructions to be sent,” Blaise added.

“Thank you,” Millicent ignored how his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Still, can you remind me later?”

“Anything else to be added to the social calendar?” He looked almost relieved.

“Not at the moment, thank you,” Millicent grinned.

The days classes went surprisingly well, considering Parkinson and Malfoy spent the day glaring daggers at their backs. Blaise taking a seat next to her in all of their mutual classes. The line very clearly drawn, Nott and Davies sitting closer to Blaise than Malfoy.

“Great Hall,” Blaise reminded her as she started to drift off to the study room, and beyond a rolling of the eyes, she acquiesced.

The common room was tense when they got there, the edges filled with their housemates watching carefully under the guise of homework. Malfoy was sat clearly at the fireplace, and as such, it was where Millicent headed, sitting down, dumping his books on the floor so Blaise could take a seat.

Malfoy’s hand twitched, and Millicent blew him a kiss.

“So I’m going to ask to see the past papers to start practising for the exams,” she started, ignoring Malfoy to talk to Blaise who had a faint smirk on his lips.

“Admirable idea,” Blaise answered lightly, he looked to the untrained eye as if his attention was on Millicent, but his eyes just lingered on Malfoy behind her.

“Surprised they haven’t mentioned it yet considering we aren’t learning anything new anymore in classes,” she groused. “Revision isn’t helpful when we don’t have the test papers to practice on.”

“Ravenclaw’s have them in their tower,” Blaise pointed out.

“So why don’t we have them?” Millicent asked. “It’s not like we don’t keep up with them academically. Top three of the year, and two are Slytherin and one is the house that shall not be named. Hat must have been high when it sorted for that one.”

“Two from Slytherin?” he frowned.

“Snape’s got the rankings in his office,” Millicent waved her hand. “If you get bored being lectured, just have a look around. You get to see all sorts of things. He has semi decent taste in literature.”

Blaise looked faintly appalled.

“Look, I listen, I promise not to do whatever it is that I did that got him in trouble with the Dumblebore, and then we move on with our lives,” Millicent breezed.

Blaise looked unconvinced.

“I promise to abide to the letter, it leaves a lot to play with. I promised not to threaten violence in his presence, not that I wouldn’t promise to threaten violence. Also - is it really a threat?” Millicent asked, glancing over to where Greengrass was very much ignoring her. “I feel like it’s not a threat in some situations, more of a polite advisement of my future actions.”

“How much trouble did you get in for Potter?” Blaise asked, lowering his voice just a touch.

“None. I couldn’t believe it.”

“He was in the wrong,” Blaise settled back.

“Not overly, I mean he’s a creepy little stalker who doesn’t understand what leave me alone means. But I think he meant well,” Millicent offered up. “I don’t think he has the brains to be malicious. Stupid, of course. Socially inept, very much so.”

She could tell by how Blaise stilled, Malfoy had reacted.

“Whose side are you on?” Malfoy demanded.

“I’m sorry?” Millicent frowned turning around with a deliberately confused expression on her face. “Was I talking to you?”

“You sat here,” he challenged.

“I sat at a free chair with my friend, who I was having a conversation with,” she tilted her head. “I didn’t think, what with me having my back to you, that I invited you to join us.”

“You almost kill Potter, but then you hang around with blood traitors and defend worse,” Malfoy sounded like he was trying to work out a particularly complex equation.

“So?”

“So whose side are you on?”

“Side?” Millicent acted deliberately obtuse.

“Are you for us, or against us?” The room had quietly emptied, with only a few remaining. She was surprised to see Nott and Davies, and not to see Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle.

“I’m for me, and against anyone who is against me,” Millicent offered with a smile. “If that’s what you are asking.”

“You know what I mean,” he sounded as if he was teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“No, no I don’t,” she lied calmly. “Why don’t you spell it out for me.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it if he did. Tell Snape probably. Who would yell at her. Tell Bill, who’d probably get upset about it. Molly would tell her off too. Millicent was kicking the wasps nest and waiting to see what would happen, and she knew it was a terrible idea. It didn’t stop her from enjoying every second. She could feel joy bubbling under her skin as she watched Malfoy teeter on the brink of madness.

“Why was I summoned?” Snape appeared like the black death, ruining her fun. She wondered who’d ratted them out. Blaise looked faintly pale, and Nott’s hand was firmly wrapped around his wand, lying flat against his leg. Davies had her’s out while she pretended to inspect her nails.

“Malfoy wanted to know where my loyalties lay,” Millicent gave her guardian her best innocent smile. “I informed him that I was loyal to me, and against anyone who was against me.”

He gave her a quelling look, before turning to Malfoy.

“Well, as thrilling as that might be, do I have to remind you all of the first rule of Slytherin?” He hissed.

“We’re Slytherin first,” Millicent dutifully recited with Blaise, and then Nott and Davies also saying. Malfoy took another moment before answering, the other three mumbling under Snape’s angry gaze.

“While you are in my House, you will abide by my rules. When you are in your own house, you may abide by those rules. We will hear no more nonsense about loyalties in this house. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir,” they all dutifully murmured.

“Miss Bulstrode, my office, first thing. Mr Malfoy, my office at six pm. If I catch any more of this, you will be cleaning all of the cauldrons for a month. Go.”

Millicent waited long enough for Malfoy to make the first move, before slowly heading out. Blaise lightly nudged her as they parted ways to head to the respective dorms, with a viciously pleased look.

You owe me, she mouthed, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Chapter Text

“Try not to let Mr Malfoy antagonize you,” Snape sighed. Flitwick was perched in the corner with a cheery smile on his face.

“Yes Sir,” Millicent answered. It was a pretty reasonable request after all. She could try not to, she wasn’t promising anything.

“Any other concerns I need to be made aware of?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

“Exam papers,” Millicent answered promptly, grinning as both teachers looked pleased. “I’d like test papers to practise for the upcoming exams, and some Newt level to see the difference if that’s doable?”

Having confirmed what Blaise already had, regarding the Ravenclaw tower and papers, she was promised stacks. By the end of the day there was a large pile which she shared a few with Blaise before dropping the rest off in the study room.

They were different from the GCSE ones which were really just sample papers, these were actual OWL and NEWT papers from previous years going back a couple of decades. Even just flicking through superficially nothing really changed.

Another weekend without Bill, Percy filling some of the void by offering to mark her test papers. Gran sleeping a lot, and doing a lot of manual cleaning with Molly of all the windows at the Burrow and Gran’s, before returning back to school, exhausted but calmer.

“Miss Millicent be running again?” Mopsy scowled at her, after Millicent carefully deposited Miss Oliviette into the warm spot of the bed. The cat barely opened her eyes.

“Molly thinks I have too much energy and physical exhaustion is good for me,” Millicent explained, stretching out properly, ignoring the way her joints popped.

“Miss Millicent could be working on her garden instead,” Mopsy frowned.

“I don’t have a green thumb,” Millicent offered, scraping her hair into a scrunchie, teasing her fingers through the ends and ignoring the tangles.

“How will we be winning best flowers in village, if Miss Millicent not be working on the garden?” Mopsy asked, trying to sneakily run a brush through her hair.

“What?” Millicent paused trying to pull on her socks to pay attention to Mopsy.

“Mr Arthur be telling Mopsy about contest, and Mopsy be very cross with Miss Julia and Miss Millicent for not telling Mopsy about important competition.”

“It’s just the village, and no one takes it seriously,” Millicent blinked. “Gran doesn’t do gardening either.”

“Mopsy be cast out of house if not be winning competition!” Mopsy wailed dramatically.

“It’s not even a real competition, the village doesn’t even get a “well you tried” ribbon in the best kept villages of the county. Mrs Smith gets best Roses, because no one else has a rose bush, and she gets best Hydrangeas because she has more than one colour. Mr Hendry wins best gooseberries, because they are edible, it’s not really a high bar,” Millicent tried to soothe.

“Mopsy must win,” Mopsy stated with deadly intent.

“Alright?” Millicent blinked again, growing ever so slightly concerned.

“Miss Millicent be letting Mopsy win.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Millicent pointed out carefully. “I just don’t have a green thumb.”

“So Miss Millicent not be stopping Mopsy from winning,” Mopsy sweetened up, throwing her arms around Millicent’s legs.

“Just don’t steal, or destroy anyone else’s plants,” Millicent looked suspiciously at Mopsy. “And nothing that’s going to get us into trouble with Molly, Gran, or Snape.”

“Mopsy be a good elf,” Mopsy lied.

“Neither of us are good,” Millicent pointed out dryly. “Just, don’t get caught?”

“Mopsy never be getting caught,” Mopsy pouted.

“Yeah… Alright, see you after the run,” Millicent backed out warily. She wasn’t sure how it could backfire. She also considered telling Snape about it, but decided against on grounds of not having anything other than gut feeling.

They ran her into the ground once again, something she was getting more than used to. The actual club didn’t run this hard, but Mary and Gilly’s “fun” runs were anything but. The air turned even icier, the mud crunching under each step making her use each spare breath to curse, as the other two looking like graceful gazelles galloping. Millicent was a less elegant version of Bambi.

“See you tomorrow,” Mary breezed, looking spotless as ever.

“Yeah…” Millicent panted, her knees trembling as the wall took most of her weight. It wasn’t even getting easier, she was sure they were just picking up speed every time she managed to get into a pace.

Mopsy didn’t even shout at her, which left Millicent with the faintest feeling of dread.

“Morning,” Blaise greeted her amiably, Davies and Nott nodding in her general direction. The number of people between her and Malfoy had increased. Of all ages.

“Morning,” Millicent returned, lifting her hand to wave casually at Ginny who was perched next to a tall quidditch player, chatting away with heart eyes.

“Thomas,” Blaise supplied as Millicent struggled to remember his name.

“Ohh, Dean,” Millicent cackled. “Better than Potter.”

“Taller,” Blaise commented dryly. “Will you be joining us later?”

“Do I have to?” She had a better grip on her temper having expressed a little winding up Malfoy, and half killing herself outside. “I’ve plans to practice, practice, practice.”

“I can’t make you,” he shrugged.

“Lies,” Millicent challenged.

“I can’t make you do anything you didn’t already want to do,” he allowed.

“Fair,” Millicent considered eating more, before pushing her bowl away. The thick porridge stuck to her ribs, and seemed to please the Matron. She’d eaten enough to be full, but not weighed down, any more and she’d be unable to move. A few berries and an apple eaten right down to the core.

“It’d help if you showed your face a bit more,” he finally added, after she’d placed the core on the small side plate.

“I’ll do a paper, and then afterwards join the common room. Unless I get a better offer,” Millicent allowed. “I’ve been told to try not to allow myself be antagonized.”

Blaise flickered the faintest smirk, which she returned.

So she did. She did a paper in the study room, having set an alarm for the correct amount of time, and attempted it as if in an exam. Afterwards, she got Mopsy to take it to the Burrow where Percy promised to mark it for her. After that, she attended the common room. She’d play cards idly with Blaise and the others, before heading to bed.

Her mornings would start with a run, where the ground was either icy, muddy, or sometimes if she was lucky, a combination of both. A wash aided by Mopsy, breakfast with Blaise and Ginny (when she wasn’t hanging off Dean) and then lessons.

Percy returned the papers marked to death. She was marked down for everything. He picked apart sentences where she knew what she’d meant, but apparently could be interpreted differently. Not finishing all the questions fully, and forgetting to explain workings out even when they were really simple.

That was the most clawing thing, when he pulled apart stuff which was simple. She didn’t see why she had to dumb down her explanations. The marking scheme for the GCSE’s made more sense, even if he did point out she needed to be clearer and show working out there too.

Helpful bastard.

She knew the twins were doing some, having taken advantage of the fact she’d pestered for NEWT level, although she suspected they’d asked for more. She wasn’t sure who was marking them though, it wasn’t Bill or Percy. She knew that much as she’d apologised to Percy for giving him more work to do. He’d looked confused, claiming unless she started doing more than one a day, he could easily handle it.

Worse, he was even considering offering to become a marker for the exams themselves. Millicent considered letting the Twins know so they could scheme to keep it from happening, otherwise it might be the first year no one passed anything.

Millicent was also made aware, courtesy of Ginny, that Granger had pestered the Deputy for her own papers. Granger, according to the gospel of Ginny, had acquired a study group of her own, having ditched Potter and Ron for a more hardcore group. Millicent wasn’t sure how the new study group managed to overlook Granger’s take over attitude.

The boys on the other hand, seemed to be studying with the other boys of their house.

“Can Dean try some?” Ginny asked as the timer finished, and Millicent stuffed the latest exam into an envelope for Mopsy to deliver.

“Dean?” Millicent feigned confusion. She’d been hearing more and more about Dean recently, when not witnessing her friend all but draped over him at the dinner table. She knew several facts, he was Muggleborn, the best male chaser, and that everything he said was very important.

Ginny glared at her.

“Sure,” Millicent grinned, pointing at the duplicates of the ones she’d already finished. “I can do a crib sheet for him if he wants the answers, or he can just look them up.”

“Why would you write out a crib sheet?” Ginny frowned suspiciously. They’d been left alone, the Twin’s absconding to stretch their legs the moment the timer went off.

“Because he’s clearly superior to Potter.”

“It’s not like that!” Ginny squeaked, blushing deeply.

“Uh huh,” Millicent stretched out, letting her limbs hang loosely before slowly reaching to the ceiling. “You on the team tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Ginny bounced. “First game! Are you coming? You need to come. I won’t forgive you if you don’t come.”

“How could I not come? I get to cheer on my favourite Weasley still in Hogwarts.”

“You like me more than the others,” Ginny grinned.

“Bill’s got me tickets to see a band,” Millicent pointed out. “Percy’s helped me lots with school work. Charlie though, yeah, much better than Charlie. He tried to kill me with that crap he smokes. But when it comes down to my favouritest Weasley, it’s Molly. Hands down.”

“I’d help you with school work if I could,” Ginny pouted. “And Mum doesn’t count.”

“I won’t tell Molly you said that,” Millicent snickered. “To be fair though, you do keep Ron away at the moment.”

She wasn’t sure how Ginny eventually fixed her Ron problem, she’d not been told. She did know Bill was aware of the rift, because he’d written to ask if it was any better. The only thing Bill and Millicent knew for definite, was that Ron was very much sulking.

“He’s such a prat,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Bill’s coming.”

“I can’t sit with Bill,” Millicent pointed out.

“You could sit with Snape,” Ginny waggled her eyebrows. “And Bill would be there. No one would know. It’d just be you sitting with the Weasley’s. Mum said if Dad doesn’t have to work, she’s going to come too.”

“And cheer for you, whilst sitting next to my Head of House, who is your Head of House’s bitter rival?”

“You could,” Ginny grinned.

“I could,” Millicent snorted. “I’ll ask first. If not, I can always go and sit next to Granger and Potter and really set the cat amongst the pigeons.”

“Dennis…” Ginny cackled as Millicent groaned.

“He has been asking to spend more time together,” Millicent shivered. “He keeps staring at me.”

“He has the biggest crush,” Ginny glowed with mischief.

“He’s a baby, a tiny baby,” Millicent shook her head.

She didn’t think any more of it, the Twin’s returning to do another practice paper, and then it was time to head to the hall for food.

Until, of course, there was a hush as Potter approached the Teacher’s table and spoke to Snape. The ripple of silence stirred Millicent out of her exam fugue, staring as even from this distance she could see the distaste on Snape’s face.

It looked like thunder as he made his way around the table, Potter trailing a couple of steps behind, until they reached Millicent. Blaise looking as bemused as she felt.

“Sir?” when it became very clear it was her, they were there to see.

“You do not have to say yes. In fact, I would heavily advise you decline, however, Potter has a request,” he spat.

“Sir?” Millicent blinked.

“You are under no obligation to hear it. Which Potter is very much aware of.”

“I mean, it’s just words,” Millicent shrugged. “I think I proved out of words and actions, it was my actions that almost killed him, rather than his words.”

He turned his glare to her, and she coughed. “Sorry Sir.”

“Miss Bulstrode.” Snape gave her a warning look. “Potter, do not come any closer. You may ask from a distance.”

“I’m hardly likely to eat him,” Millicent grumbled under her breath, Blaise smothering a laugh with a cough, the pair of them pretending nothing had happened as Snape’s glare intensified. “What is it, Potter?”

“Would you like to sit with us tomorrow, at the match? So you can cheer on Ginny?” He asked, blushing as Snape snarled.

“Sure,” Millicent shrugged. “I will throw you off the stand if you touch me though. That wasn’t a threat, it’s just what will happen, so we’re clear.”

He hung his head like a naughty puppy. “I can’t apologise enough, sorry Bulstrode.”

“Miss Bulstrode to you,” Snape snapped.

Millicent could feel Blaise kicking her ankle gently, while Ginny looked hopeful from the Gryffindor table. The room still amazingly quiet, even if some of the tables had resumed eating.

“You can call me Millicent,” she decided, winking slyly at Ginny even as Snape made a noise like a whistling kettle. Potter’s mouth dropped, making him look more gormless than ever. “After all, I almost killed you, makes us a bit closer than acquaintances.”

“Miss Bulstrode!”

“Sorry Sir, it’s my Muggle heritage. I just can’t restrain myself sometimes,” she said delightedly, as her table mates did their best to retain some composure. Blaise had given up kicking her and had relaxed into a higher state of sanguine. The cat was very much amongst the pigeons, and she was going to feed well.

“I suggest you work on it.” He stalked off, leaving Potter standing there like a lemon.

“Sit down, or piss off,” Millicent said, grinning as Ginny high fived Dennis. “Some of us would like to finish eating.”

He went to take a seat, Ginny’s usual seat. “You’re either brave or stupid.”

“What?” He looked gormlessly at her.

“That was clearly a fuck off, Potter,” Millicent commented, watching with wicked glee as he hovered between sitting and standing.

“Harry,” he said, sitting with a bump. Everyone except Blaise shifted down a spot. “Millicent.”

“See, that wasn’t hard was it,” Millicent flicked a look at Blaise, who was very much not looking at their new interloper. “So, where are we meeting?”

“You aren’t really going to sit with him?” Blaise asked carefully.

“I don’t know. I know I said I was going to in front of the Professor, and I am known for changing my mind on a whim… Oh wait, I forget, that’s not me at all,” she tilted her head putting a finger to her lips as if pondering. Blaise just gave her a look.

“On your head be it,” Blaise shrugged, returning to his meal.

“Prat,” she shrugged back. “I normally meet Ginny here and we head down with a drink.”

“We’re still not supposed to walk around the school with drinks,” Blaise chirped with a snarky grin.

“Oh no, well I hope no one spots me and reports me so I lose points for the house,” Millicent sighed sadly.

“Um, we can meet here,” Harry nodded, pretending to not notice Blaise and Millicent kicking each other under the table. “Hermione’s coming too.”

“Joy, it’ll be a regular little fan club then.”

“Half an hour before it starts?” Harry ignored her rolling her eyes, snagging a plate of food and starting to eat as if he was starved.

“Forty minutes,” Millicent suggested to be contrary. It backfired when he shrugged good naturedly.

Blaise declined crossing the party line to join her, even after Harry extended the invitation to him.

No good deed goes unpunished, Ginny hugging her in the middle of the corridor in front of people was certainly a cruel and unusal punishment. Still better than the cooing Twin’s who seemed to believe they were converting her to the house of the stupid.

Still, it didn’t stop Millicent and Mopsy crafting a large banner with GINNY painted on, which Mopsy smuggled onto the gryffindor stand for later.

She had a flask of broth, a book, and her yo yo, ready and waiting as a grouchy Granger, and a cautiously hopeful Harry appeared for her.

It proved surprisingly easy to occupy herself. She found herself surrounded by a gaggle of third years and below, muggleborn and half bloods, all pestering about yo yo tricks. Dennis had in his infinite wisdom, decided to arrange that they all bring their yo yo’s to the match.

There were a few tuts and hushes from the students who actually wanted to watch the match, but on the whole, after a small shuffling around leaving the group with a corner, they were left alone. It no doubt helped that Harry and Granger acted as a buffer between them and the general gryffindor group.

“I mastered this one!” Dennis did a UFO with the yo yo dangling dangerously close to his face. She could see Granger react and put her hand up to stop her.

“He’s mastered it,” she warned, not quite lying, he’d sort of got it. “Leave him be.”

Although, the moment Granger got distracted bitching at Harry, Millicent gave Dennis a warning look. “Still a bit shit. No wonder you gave yourself a black eye. Tempted to take points off just for that.”

“Or points for,” he challenged like the cheeky little git he was.

“Do better and we’ll see,” she compromised. He’d earned that much.

“Our Head says if we can get a senior student to do it, we could have a proper club,” Dennis mentioned slyly. “We’d be able to have a room so we could all meet up when it’s raining outside and not loiter in the corridors causing issues.”

“Well get a senior then,” Millicent rolled her eyes, snatching a yo yo out of the air with reflexes Miss Oliviette would be proud of. The yo yo had slipped off a firsties finger and had been on a trajectory to brain another’s head. “Be careful! What did we say about making sure it’s on your finger tightly!”

Fucking firsties. She could’ve knocked the other little shit out. “Push it through and then feed your finger in. Don’t just rely on the first loop. You need it tight so it doesn’t fly off and hurt someone.”

The girl looked at her as if Millicent had imparted some great knowledge. It did make her feel a bit something inside, so she decided to show off a little. Just a tiny bit. Doing some of the more complex tricks she’d been mastering to keep ahead of Dennis. Until reality came crashing down, and she remembered she didn’t need to show off at all, and handed the yo yo back to the girl. She did, however, make sure it was secured securely that time.

They almost missed the end of the match, Millicent’s excuse was that she’d been too busy trying to help a little boy who had a shit yo yo. The string refused to ravel back up, no matter how much he tried. It took Harry lightly jostling her with the flag, and a none too subtle look at the sky, that she noticed the game was pretty much done.

She would deny it to everyone, but it had been the most enjoyable match she’d been too. Even if Blaise smirked as Millicent herded the gaggle back into the school with dirty looks at anyone who got in the way.

Chapter Text

She made a mistake. She forgot to pay attention, and it cost her.

“See me at the end of class,” the tabby cat told her, peering down her nose as Millicent handed in her assignment.

“Yes Professor,” Millicent agreed, fairly sure she’d not done anything recently that could cause the old bag to punish her severely.

She was mistaken.

“Which days will you be free?” Professor Catbag asked.

“Professor?”

“Mr Creevey and a small yet very determined group of students informed me of your intentions to run the yo yo club,” McGonagall had pursed lips.

“They said they needed someone,” Millicent frowned, a heavy weight forming in her stomach. “At no point did I say I would be that someone.”

“You seemed to be handling them,” the bag countered. “It would be good for you.”

“I’ve exams,” Millicent pointed out.

“A couple of hours once a week will nae be doing harm, Severus has been proudly showing off your progress.”

Millicent groaned. “Monday evenings then.”

“It’ll fill your extracurriculars, Universities look highly on such things.”

“Yes Professor,” Millicent agreed with a sigh. She needed as much on there as she could if she wanted in any half decent uni. “Where is it to happen, what time and what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Come to my office after class today,” said with a stern look. “The group will be open to all houses.”

“I’m already teaching the worst, the others won’t be an issue,” Millicent smiled sweetly. “I’ll be there.”

“A point for cheek,” the tabby cat gave her a stern look.

“Yes, Professor.”

Millicent wasn’t expecting to see George nor Dean Thomas. She’d not been formally introduced, but she did note he didn’t carry a sepia tint to the air around him, nor did he have flowers fluttering around his head like a crown. His lips didn’t particularly look like they’d been stung by bees either. That little Ginny detail, Millicent suspected, came after they’d been snogging. Ginny’s lips tended to go a little swollen, her eyes dilated, and her skin flushed after snogging sessions. Millicent mourned the days when she didn’t know that snippet of information.

“Mills,” George greeted, ruffling her hair like she was a pet. “Thomas is hurt he wasn’t asked to run it.”

“He’s welcome to it,” Millicent scowled. “Creevey lied to the old cat, and now I’m having to give up my Mondays for it. Little git.”

“Miss Bulstrode,” the old cat pursed her lips, appearing like a bad smell from around the corner, accompanied by Lupin sporting a small smirk. If Millicent was a lesser individual she might have felt ganged up on by so many red shirts.

“Five points for cheek?” Millicent tilted her head innocently.

“I can make it ten.”

“Sorry Professor,” Millicent didn’t roll her eyes. It was a close thing, and if George hadn’t prodded her discretely in the side she probably would’ve succumbed.

“Mr Weasley, a surprise to see you here, and without your brother.” The cat stated suspiciously.

“He prefers juggling,” George grinned. “I’m here to join up, not teach.”

“I have to teach?” Millicent groaned.

“Why wasn’t I ask?” Thomas followed them into her office.

“Bring it up with Creevey,” Millicent scowled. “He’s the ringleader.”

“You are the ringleader, Miss Bulstrode,” said with a very stern look. “Professor Lupin has kindly offered to be the staff liaison.”

“I’ll be there marking, while you supervise,” he added. “I’ve not used a yo yo for a long time, however, I do know some tricks.”

“Surely that’s enough?” Millicent checked. She could feel the will to live drain away.

“Mr Creevey and his friends have spent far too much of my time pestering about this,” the old bag frowned at Millicent. It wasn’t Millicent’s fault Creevey was persistent. “There has been cross-house support for such a club, including from the board of Governors.”

Millicent bit her tongue before she cursed.

“I want to be involved,” Thomas crossed his arms.

“I’m sure you and Miss Bulstrode will work perfectly well together,” the old bag said with an air of finality.

Millicent disagreed. She wasn’t daft enough to verbalise the disagreement considering the look the old bag was giving her, but she disagreed in the safety of her own head.

From there, they were assigned a classroom, not too far from Millicent’s study room. She exchanged glances with George, before shrugging. Thomas, Dean, stupid git insisted considering they were all on first name terms except between Millicent and Dean, took over creating posters. As if Dennis hadn’t spread it far and wide, although she did acknowledge that no one would know when or where it was without information.

Millicent reluctantly agreed to keep track of attendance, and between them they agreed to meet once a week for lunch to discus the club’s session for the following week. Completely unnecessary considering no one other than Dennis and his mates would turn up, but she showed some willing.

“There will be no funds for the club,” they were both warned.

It was hardly as if there was a reason for the club to have funds, until Professor Lupin pointed out not everyone had a yo yo. What even was the point of joining a yo yo club without a pigging yo yo. She ignored George grinning and prodding her as her thoughts became less than silent.

What was worse was when Dean suggested fund raising, and Millicent had flashbacks to church. Her fist flexed, and whilst George caught the movement, the fact that it remained by her side and the others didn’t see, left her a little proud.

“I’m not begging for money to buy yo yo’s.”

“It’s not begging, we could do a sponsored run or something, you like running and I’m pretty fit, I bet if we did a three hour run we could get people to give us money,” Dean looked excited about it.

“We’ll transfigure them,” Millicent stated. “If we can turn a bloody mouse into a goblet, we can turn a shitting bit of wood into a yo yo.”

“Five points for creativity, we’ll pretend I didn’t hear the cursing,” Lupin smiled at her, and didn’t she just want to smack him too. Still, he’d left her about neutral points wise, so not too terrible considering.

Ginny loved the fact that Dean was involved with Millicent’s club. It wasn’t Millicent’s club at all, it was Creevey’s torture practice, not that anyone listened when she pointed it out. Still, Ginny hung off Dean as if he was the latest accessory, even if she didn’t have anything other than snarky comments to contribute. Blaise had banned them from the table after Ginny all but crawled into Dean’s lap while they were trying to have a conversation about suitable tricks.

They had reasonable success with the transfigured yo yos, with some of them not quite balancing right. Between the ones that did, the ones Mopsy “found” and the spares that some of them had, they had just about enough for the first meeting.

Thirty fucking students turned up. George wasn’t even the only seventh year the fucker. She was sure he had something to do with it. The original room wasn’t big enough to fit everyone in safely, and the room they relocated to was even closer to Millicent’s sanctuary.

They split up into smaller groups after people volunteered experience. Millicent and Dean rotating through the groups as called for, with Dennis showing off to his small group. Millicent personally had to barrier four times as the tiny wooden missiles launched across the room almost hitting other students. She was going to get a medal for not yelling at everyone who didn’t listen, or a trip to an aslyum.

Finch-Fletchly or whatever he was called, claimed to be an expert, but got his string tangled walking the dog. He blamed it on their shit transfiguration, Millicent sweetly pointed out it was his personal yo yo. He’d etched his name onto it, in what looked like gold filigree. She hated Blaise for knowing what that even was.

Dean was passable, she’d give him that. He’d not mastered using two at once, and she’d done a quick and ill advised demonstration for Creevey, only to become aware of everyone watching, including Lupin. She barely managed to avoid smacking herself when she noticed, knowing full well Creevey would start trying for the next week, little git.

The time seemed to both fly and trudge, with people laughing and asking where they would be coming back to the following week. Even asking if they could bring friends. George ruffled her hair again once everyone except Dean and Lupin had left. The room looked like a bomb had hit it, and a pile of yo yos sat in a basket to be stored who knew where. Cupboard in the corner probably, with maybe some bandages and plasters for just in case. She’d talk to Mopsy about it.

“You know,” George teased, and she bit back the urge to thump him. “Some of our lot have been asking about a games club.”

“Fuck off,” Millicent growled.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Lupin warned gently.

“Sorry, Sir. I meant to say, go take a long walk off a short pier,” Millicent gave her sweetest smile to George, promising death.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Dean piped up. He looked exhilarated, she wasn’t sure why, even if it was a bit nice to - no. “I’ve got a bunch of board games we never use, I could bring them back after the Easter hols.”

“Isn’t this enough?” Millicent asked exasperated. “You’ve not forgotten exams are coming up?”

“Well, next year maybe,” Dean shrugged. “We could get a bigger room. Could have games for people to try, as well as the yo yo stuff? Some of them will have mastered it soon.”

“You won’t, and you’re further on than most of them,” Millicent pointed out. “I spent all of my free time since I was six practising, and I still have lots to learn.”

“Alright then, as a break from it,” Dean scowled.

“I didn’t even sign up for this,” Millicent countered. “Creevey made me, lying git.”

“Creevey’s not going to get bored,” George pointed out. “If anything he’s going to get worse, I saw him take an extra with him.”

Millicent groaned, he’d injure himself and it’d end up being Millicent’s fault. She’d have to track him down and put the fear of Millicent into him. “Can we just focus on this until after the exams?”

Fucking mistake as George smirked. “I’m not saying a definite yes though.” She glared at him for good measure.

It was almost second nature to head to the study room with George as they were so close. Not helped by the fact George was chatting about how Fred would meet them there, that she’d not noticed both Dean and Lupin following like ducklings.

“Ginny’s brought me before,” Dean bristled as Millicent glared at him when she realised her mistake. “Also Rufio? Obvious much.”

“And you don’t have Pamela Anderson on your walls,” Millicent shot back. Ginny told her lots.

“What’s this?” Lupin asked as they hovered outside of the door.

“It’s a study room I found,” Millicent crossed her arms, blocking his access incidentally and accidentally. George slipped in behind her with a touch to her back, she trusted he’d get rid of anything too bad before she gave way. “It’s quiet and I claimed it.”

“Does Professor Snape know about this?” Professor Lupin asked suspiciously.

“Probably.” Millicent cursed her absentmindedness for leading them here.

He looked at the door, and she rolled her eyes, stepping out of the way.

Ginny was sprawled on the rug as ever, scribbling out her assignments. Fred was busy with a pile of papers. Miss Oliviette was curled up snoring gently on Millicent’s chair. Millicent was only half surprised to see Granger, Harry and Ron in the corner, heads down doing test papers.

“Nothing dodgy going on,” Millicent stared militantly at Lupin, pretending it was all normal behaviour.

“Mopsy be supervisings,” Mopsy appeared with her hands on her hips. “No hot chocolates only bone broths.”

“It’s safer than the common room,” Millicent added, deciding to appeal to his weak lion side.

“Does Professor Snape know?”

“Know what?” he appeared as if by magic, Mopsy not so subtly winking at her. Millicent wasn’t sure if she wanted to heave a great sigh of relief or panic.

“That your student has their own private study room,” Lupin asked with a small smirk.

“It’s clearly not private,” Snape sniffed. “It seems to be infested.”

“Ginny’s not a pest,” Millicent stood up for her, grinning as Ginny blew her a kiss. “The others are an unfortunate side effect. I’ve been consulting a medical professional and we’re working on it.”

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape gave her a warning look. She was going to pay later. “Lupin, clearly there is nothing untoward occurring, a miracle considering the mix.”

“You haven’t noticed then,” Lupin asked slyly, tipping his head to where Ginny was lying and Millicent felt the dread return ten fold. She’d checked with almost everyone discretely if they’d been missing a rug. She never in a million years considered it might be Snape’s. For one it was far too colourful.

“Sir,” Millicent blurted as his face turned to thunder. She could feel her eyes throb. “I think I need to see the Matron.”

“ELF!” Mopsy cowered, clinging to Millicent’s legs.

“Sir,” Millicent brought a hand up to her face, the build up from keeping hold of her temper, and now this, she could feel her eyes start to water with the throbbing, and the blood on her fingers as she brought it away, with Ginny’s look of horror made her waver.

“Sir-“

“Severus!” Lupin barked as Snape started to rant.

“Wolf!”

“Sir,” Millicent grabbed onto his arm as the room felt wobbly, she could taste blood in her mouth, and her breath was starting to catch.

“For pities sake,” he glared, starting to sound muffled. “Lupin, you’ll have to carry her.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how they got to the ward, but she knew Ginny looked terrified, and that Snape had held his hand to her mouth when she tried to tell her not to be.

She woke to find a familiar sight, Bill doing his best calm face.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, downing the potion he handed her the moment she sat up enough.

She hoped it was rueful, the look he gave as he spoke. “Don’t suppose you meant to get so stressed.”

Sheepish wasn’t the word to describe what she felt. “I’ve been doing better.” About as good as she could offer him.

“How long have you had headaches?” he asked, stretching his legs out, pretending to be relaxed. “Poppy informed us there will have been some warning before you get to the eye bleeding stage.”

“Just a little bit of stress headaches,” Millicent tried to shrug, wincing as she lifted her shoulders. “It’s been a lot easier. And not as often.”

“But?” he prompted after she trailed off to play with a stray thread on the blanket.

“You know that I have anger issues,” she commented quietly.

He stayed quiet, watching her with those blasted eyes of his.

“So, sometimes, or a lot of the time, especially when I’m here, I just want to punch everything, all the time. Or not all the time, but a lot of the time. Running is helping. When I’m running, or studying it’s easy. I can make my brain switch over, but the moment I’m surrounded by people.” She paused, swallowing the bile flooding her mouth.

“It feels like claws at me, trying to get in me, and I want to ram my fist into chests and yank hearts out and just eat them,” Millicent grimaced. “Sometimes I catch myself watching Malfoy and wondering how long it would take for me to kill him. Slow like. As slow as I can make it. My fingers want to dive into his eyes and pluck them out so I can wear them like a necklace.”

He didn’t look horrified. He looked like Bill, calm, safe and accepting. She wasn’t sure if she should be comforted by it, even if she was.

“My dreams too, dark, angry things,” Millicent glanced out the window. “Full of rending and ripping, ravaging and consuming, bathing in blood and gore until it drips from every inch of me. And when I wake, I don’t feel scared, I feel sad. I want that. My body wants that. My body wants to run riot through my enemies slaughtering as I go.”

“Have you told anyone?” He asked, and she almost flinched at his gentleness.

“You?” Millicent tried to shrug again. “Mopsy knows.”

“Did you think to tell anyone other than Mopsy?” He asked with such kindness, his hand reaching to grasp hers.

“Was going to finish the year and then maybe tell the Professor, in case I get kicked out as too much of a threat. I already proved I’ll act on it right. So I can keep it bottled in until I finish my exams and then they can kick me out.” Millicent tried not to flinch as he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“I’m a monster,” she confessed.

“I trust Mum’s judgment,” Bill’s thumb gently stroked her hand. “She’d know if you were. Mopsy too, she spends most of her time with you. I hardly think either would countenance talks about how many babies we need to have to make sure Mopsy is a well respected house elf, if either believed such a thing.”

Millicent couldn’t help but shudder at the thought, and he flicked her nose lightly.

“Eww, did you have to say that?”

“If I have to hear it,” he prodded at her screwed up nose.

“You could probably break the contract now,” Millicent mumbled. “There must be something in there to protect you from marrying a monster.”

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape admonished, appearing with the Matron, a potion bubbling in her hand.

“If I can deal with Ginny,” Bill winked slyly.

Millicent pulled a face at him, Ginny at her worst wasn’t as bad as Millicent at her best. Prat.

“Mopsy isn’t in trouble is she?” Millicent checked, deciding to ignore Bill for the time being. “I checked with Bill and Molly, and they hadn’t lost a rug.”

“That elf is a menace!” Snape snapped. “The rug is not mine, however it was missed. And shall be returned forthwith. You will be making no more requests for furnishings, do I make myself clear.”

“I didn’t though, Sir,” Millicent winced. “Not that I told her to return them either, but still, I didn’t ask.”

“There will be a comprehensive list for that damnable elf, even if it’s the last thing I do,” he warned. “We will also be discussing the taking over of rooms in within the castle and obscuring them from the general populace.”

“That’s not on me! It’s the one where the fliers got decapitated,” Millicent struggled to get upright. “We just tidied it up a bit, so I could eat in peace. And do my work without it being ruined all the time.”

Snape looked faintly uncomfortable about that.

“It’s not my fault almost everyone’s susceptible to superstitious nonsense.”

“The ghosts still fly through once a year,” the Matron tutted. “Hardly superstitious nonsense.”

“Doesn’t mean a perfect good study room should be wasted because of a couple of ghosts, not like we don’t use the school, is it. Plenty of ghosts roaming the school.” Millicent heard her tone getting snippier.

“Classroom.” He arched an eyebrow.

“Alright, a perfectly good classroom then. And Mopsy just wanted to make sure it was marginally comfortable, there was a much rattier rug she found first. It’s only been since Christmas that we’ve had the nice one.”

“You should know better than to get caught,” Snape sniffed snippily. “I’m choosing to ignore how long you’ve had the room.”

“He did follow me,” Millicent pulled a face. “What was I supposed to say? Sorry Sir, only student’s allowed down here. It was habit and George did it too, so it’s not just on me.”

He chose not to answer, instead letting the Matron force feed her the bubbling potion, her brain sliding into a fluffy cloud as Bill started to read to her.

Chapter Text

She was out much faster this time, whatever bubbling brew Snape and the Matron concocted had her back in class for the following day. Under semi-supervision. She was forced to return to the ward before each meal, and given a calming brew each time.

She’d half thought they’d ban her from running, but no, running was still allowed. As was her plan of mucking out Mr Hendry’s cowshed. She’d asked Bill to ask him for her, and the note back had been a resounding please. She even had permission to camp out on the Saturday.

Her troubles weren’t entirely over, even with the gentle calm sea of potion easing her annoyance. They still had to plan for one more club before school broke up for Easter, and the blessed Dean was proving to be a complete fucking menace.

“Look. I don’t know how many times we have to have this conversation. It’s Yo Yo club, not Muggle Club. It’s on the posters you made.” Millicent pasted her best do not fuck with me smile on, and sat on her hands. Ginny liked Dean. Even if he did have shit taste in music and films. “People signed up to learn tricks.”

“I’ve been talking with some of the others and we all think that if we steal the tv from the Muggle Studies classroom, then we could watch something. A film or something. To blow off some steam before we go home, help ease us back into real life,” Dean seemed to have completely forgotten about Lupin sat in the corner marking papers. George hadn’t. George was still pretending not to be a member of the supervising team, even though she’d seen him stop several accidents too. George who didn’t say a thing but did grin wickedly with half a nod to said Professor.

“I think the word you are looking for is, borrow, Mr Thomas,” Lupin said dryly, not looking up from his piles of paper. He obviously had gotten behind, Snape never had that much to mark. He should ask for advice on keeping on top of things.

“Also, we’d have to cart it down, and then, what film? Everyone sensible’s going back home, why do they care about watching stuff they can watch at the end of the week anyway?” Millicent rolled her eyes. “I could see it as maybe an end-of-exams thing, or last day of school and the teachers have given up and thrown a film on to shut us up. But not Easter, and not for a club that’s so far had one session.”

“We always had to watch Watership Down,” Dean groaned, and Millicent winced in sympathy. She’d been forced to watch it with Gran and Mrs Smith who’d consumed a bottle of sherry. She wasn’t sure if they’d even watched it.

“We had Kes,” she shuddered. Her primary school teacher had gone to school with some of the actors, and claimed they were in the background of some of the scenes. “Although, saying that, we could do a more adult one, for the older lot, like say… Trainspotting? I’ve been dying to see it again, though it’s probably not out on video yet. It’s got a killer soundtrack, not that you’d like it since you have no musical taste, Blur Boy.”

“Please don’t show Kes to anyone younger than yourselves,” Lupin sighed. “I have no desire to hear about how it’s caused nightmares.”

“Most of them probably wouldn’t be able to understand it,” Millicent shrugged. “It’s pretty horrific though, when the bird’s killed. Probably shouldn’t let Snape watch the ruler bit either, he might get ideas.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We can bring back games after the hols, and ask the others if they can too.”

“Surely it’s new club territory? And we’d need to redo everything, and ask permission,” Millicent flopped back into her chair. “Don’t you want to study for exams?”

“It’ll be fun,” Dean managed to sound and look enthusiastic about it. She bet he wanted to be a teacher when he grew up, fucking weirdo.

“We have different ideas about fun,” Millicent flicked George who’d started practising with his yo yo. Mainly out of spite because she’d forgotten to bring hers.

“Malfoy will hate it,” George mentioned casually, moving just out of kicking range.

“I’m not that easily manipulated,” Millicent glared.

“I’ll check with Blaise,” George mumbled and she idly kicked out, missing him by a good foot.

“I bet we could get music,” Dean wheedled. “Just think of all the people we could draw into our war. Prove once and for all who has the better taste.”

“I hate you,” Millicent narrowed her eyes. “Oasis wins regardless.”

“The Stones are better,” Lupin piped up.

“Sir. No offence,” Dean looked as dubious as Millicent felt at Lupin’s statement.

“And yet it will cause some,” Lupin countered dryly.

“The Rolling Stones are so far past it, they are chasing Vera Lyn,” Millicent finished as Dean lost his nerve. She’d been fairly impressed with his stones up until that point.

“Twenty points for cheek,” Lupin waved his wand halfheartedly at them.

“Oh no, whatever will I do,” Millicent clasped a hand to her bosom. “Not like we have a hope of hell in winning anyway, even if your team currently sucks - and with that statement I did mean offence.”

George scoffed, “Not just our team.”

“I know,” Millicent sighed sadly. “It makes me feel like Ron, cheering for a shit side all the time. We both know they happen to be terrible and completely useless other than Ginny that is, and yet we still do it.”

“Like you could do any better,” George leaned over to tweak her nose, darting back as she lazily swiped at him.

“Girls can’t play,” Millicent tried for a pout. “Isn’t that a shame.”

“Not for us,” Dean mumbled, regaining some of her reluctant admiration. “I think we’d all flee the scene if you were heading for us.”

She winked at him, snickering softly as he paled. “I’m secretly cheering on Hufflepuff this year, much better team.”

“I’ll tell Mum,” George teased.

“She already knows, one of her friend's daughters is on the team and is thrilled to bits when I let her know how well she’s doing,” Millicent smiled sweetly, and George, just for a moment, believed her. “It’s a very Weasley heavy team, it’d be a shame if you all got struck ill.”

“Harry’d probably step in,” George winked at her.

“I’m counting him as a Weasley for this, a short, scrawny, speccy, bad one, but still, Molly likes him well enough,” Millicent carried on, ignoring Dean’s snort.

Friday night was spent reading to Gran, and assuring Molly she’d be perfectly fine camping out the following day. Mopsy hadn’t believed her for a moment, but the idea of spreading the smell of cow muck around Gran’s house was too much.

Bill dropped her off, and Joe handed over the wheelbarrow and fork. Three barrow’s full were walked back to Gran’s and dumped in the corner for Mopsy’s grand garden plans. Millicent wasn’t sure exactly why it was so important to Mopsy, she did however understand that sometimes it was better not to question too deeply.

Every year mucking out got a little easier. Her shoulders were broader, the fork lighter to handle, and within half an hour her sense of smell completely vanished. The pleasant burning as she shifted foot after foot of shit out into the pile to break down over the year.

A lunch of thick ham, door wedged bread, the sweetest stickiest jam pie and a barrel’s worth of tea, had her eased into the afternoon of tackling another third of the shed.

“Sleeping in the barn or outside?” Joe asked after serving up a big bowl of stew.

“Sky looks clear, not too cold,” Millicent stretched, her body easy and lax. “Can always head in if it gets too much.”

She hardly remembered closing her eyes, sleeping so deeply that when she woke to a warm body settling on her neck, she almost thought she’d not even slept a minute.

“Good morning Miss Oliviette, you found me,” Millicent cooed, gently prying the tiny stiletto claws from her skin.

A wash, a dripping bacon and egg sandwich, another barrel of tea and she got back to finishing off mucking out. She managed to clear out the final third before lunch, a huge slab of roast lamb, crispy potatoes, a dinner plate of yorkshire pudding and lashings of cabbage and swede drowned in a rich onion gravy, eaten perched on the stone wall.

“More?” Joe asked after she’d scraped up the last of it.

“Please,” she did her best puppy eyes, grinning as he tapped her behind the head. “Molly’s great at cooking but nothing beats this.”

Something she’d never have confessed if Mopsy had been in earshot. Joe only ate his own meat, and fuck was his livestock fed well. She’d do it just to eat his lamb, and his cattle, she could still taste the rump steak he’d cooked for her last birthday.

The only thing left to do, after she’d stuffed herself silly, was to sweep, scrub, hose out and clean off the tools she’d used before heading up to the farm house.

“All done?” Joe checked, chewing on his pencil, a battered notebook tucked in his hand.

She started to hand back his penknife that he’d lent her when she started trying to shift baler band. “Keep it.”

“Sure?” Millicent checked, turning it in her hand. It was like the ship of Theseus. A Hendry heirloom, that over the years had each part replaced by another generation. Joe’s son had died alongside Millicent’s father, so she’d never gotten to know him.

“About time you had your own,” Joe didn’t look at her. “Got me a new one, with a soft grip.”

“Thanks,” Millicent ducked her head, grinning as he muttered under his breath. She did her best to turn down the cash he shoved in her hand, the pure exhilaration of well used muscles was payment enough.

“Back at the weekend?”

“Easter hols, planning on doing some work around the village, Ginny too, Bill’s sister.”

“Short for school stuff?” he asked.

“Nah, we want to get a video recorder so we can watch films. Should be able to earn enough to get a second hand one,” Millicent stretched out, groaning happily as her body followed through.

“Need a lift?”

“Only if you’re sure?”

“Aye,” he snorted. “Let me know when you’ll be wanting to go.”

“Thanks Joe!” she kissed his cheek, grinning as he muttered about cheeky young things.

Mopsy didn’t speak to her when she called for help. It took five baths to get rid of the smell, and even then Millicent kept catching whiffs of cow shit. It was only after Millicent promised she’d dig over the garden for Mopsy when she came back, that there was a hint of forgiveness. Being on shaky ground with Mopsy was enough to hide the huge chunk of lamb Joe had shoved in her hands wrapped up in foil.

A kiss on Molly’s cheek, and Millicent got back in time for evening meal, feeling exhausted and happier than she’d been since, well, first day of summer hols.

“Everything alright?” Blaise asked as she stretched her legs out.

“Wonderful thanks,” she purred, piling veg onto her plate before pulling the meat out of her pocket and slicing it into chunks.

“You can’t do that!” one of the second years hissed, glancing around as if Millicent started doing the cancan.

“I just did, so I believe I can,” she purred, winking as the second year burst into a red haze.

“You aren’t normally this..” Blaise trailed off, frowning at her.

She ignored him to start eating, moaning at each succulent bite. The veg wasn’t quite as good as Joe’s and the gravy didn’t have a patch on it. There was no yorkie either, but fuck it was good.

“Want to try?” she asked after consuming a good half of her meal.

He looked aghast at her suggestion, so she shrugged and carried on eating, it was too good to waste.

She was in love with the meat, she would marry the meat. It was so good that she wanted to write sonnets and dedicated years to the memory of the garlic rosemary infused indulgence.

“Millicent?” Dennis popped up as they started to head to the dorms.

“Dennis,” she slung an arm around his shoulder. “You absolute little shit, how can I help you?”

He turned bright red, his breath starting to catch. “It’s alright, Blaise won’t eat you, what’s up?” She asked squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“Tomorrow are we in the same room?” he managed to breathe out.

“As far as we know,” she grinned. “Unless you conned more people into turning up.”

“S-see you tomorrow,” he squeaked, standing stock still as she let him go.

“Yep, and you can show me your progress,” she winked, all but dancing down the hallways. Fuck life was good.

“Night!” she called, humming to herself as she left Blaise and the others in the common room, to allow Mopsy to do her thing.

“Is Miss Millicent good?” Mopsy asked as Millicent started to drift off to sleep under Mopsy’s hair brushing.

“Millicent is absolutely excellent, Mopsy. Millicent is the most excellent of all excellent beings in the entire world. Millicent is as close to being in Nirvana as possible for a being,” Millicent sighed happily.

She had the most glorious dreams, platters of the finest roasted meat, piles of vegetables cooked to perfection, the fluffiest deepest largest yorkies known to mankind and the best gravy, that she was half surprised not to be drowning in drool when she woke up.

Not even slipping over in the mud could shift her mood. She felt like a graceful gazelle, running on clouds. Not even seeing the old bag brought her down.

“Miss Bulstrode,” the professor looked particularly crimson today.

“Professor, you are looking particularly crimson today, it suits you,” Millicent beamed, sighing happily as she waltzed out of the room, ignoring Blaise hissing beside her. He’d declined to link arms, as had Nott and Davis but it wasn’t an issue. She could swing her bag instead.

“Ever been in love? I have, I am, it’s the most marvellous feeling,” she purred, scooping Miss Oliviette up from the desk, dancing around the room, skipping in between the desks. They were alone, and Millicent was happy.

“My precious angel baby, yes you are, most precious most beautiful kittycat in the entire world, aren’t you poppet, yes you are,” she hummed, kissing her pretty cat on the head while they danced.

“Miss Millicent be seeing Matron Nurse,” Mopsy warned, “Miss Millicent be being looked at.”

“Good idea, Mopsy! You are the most cleverest, loyal and intelligent elf a girl could ever wish to know,” Millicent beamed at her. “Shall we go now?”

There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, besides the obvious. She was happy. Happy to be here, at school. She could understand why Mopsy was concerned.

George came to sit with them at the evening meal, to escort her with Dean to their classroom for the club. She ignored the looks between her two male friends, choosing instead to link arms with George who wasn’t afraid of his masculinity disappearing with such a thing.

“Hi Sir,” she greeted Lupin cheerily as he turned up with a pile of papers. “Bet you’ll be glad of the break from marking over the hols.”

“Miss Bulstrode,” he gave her a weird smile, and she got busy getting the things out for the club.

“I know we said we’d just practice today Dean, but I think we should get everyone to show off their best trick, just as an ego boost for everyone, make everyone feel a bit special. What do you think?” Millicent asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Uh -“

“Sounds like a good plan, and then we know really where everyone is, ready for summer term. I can work on some programs of where everyone should be working towards,” Millicent carried on. “That way we can do it again, end of summer term, so they can see how well they’ve progressed.”

“I mean-“

“Great, glad we’re in agreement. Oh, and I was thinking, maybe the sponsorship idea you had wasn’t a bad one. We could do a sponsored thing as a group and maybe get permission to go somewhere? Like the zoo, or somewhere else. Go full on real school. Do stuff we miss out on being here? There are some theme parks we could get to with a portkey, and I know someone who could help us get one if we can organise it?” Millicent pondered. “Percy would definitely help, right George?”

She spotted kids congregating outside the doors. “We can talk about it later, come in come in!”

It was such a good session too. She got to help shorten a few strings with her newly acquired trusty pen knife. Managed to get a little pipsqueak to walk the dog consistently. She led the cheers and praise as everyone showed off, and then managed to do some very dangerous fancy tricks without hitting herself once. Such a good session.

“Alright everyone, I really hope you all have a great Easter holiday, and if you need help with anything, feel free to reach out!” she clapped her hands together, beaming as everyone left with a smile.

“What an excellent session! Alright, I think I’m going to put everything away and do a test paper and maybe go to bed,” she beamed again, her face aching with happiness.

“Mills?” George called as she started to leave the room. “Can I have a quick word?”

“Of course you can,” she grinned. “You just did.”

He rolled his eyes, letting her tug him along to the study room. “Did anything happen this weekend?”

“I worked my body to the bone, ate incredible food and fell in love,” she sighed happily. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. It’s the most extraordinary feeling. I really wish everyone could feel like this. It’s like - have you ever just been so happy that if you don’t move you’ll burst into rainbows? It’s like that, but, light, and joyous and I want to keep feeling it, I want to never stop feeling it.”

He kept quiet.

“I’m going to write to Percy about the portkey thing, give him a heads up,” she smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you Weasley’s even wretched Ron, the little shit.”

“Mills,” he looked like he wanted to say something but closed his mouth instead.

She floated through the rest of the week, choosing to run every morning even when Mary and Gilly weren’t. Chasing the exhaustion high, until it was time to head home.

Chapter Text

Technically it was still term time, so Millicent took full advantage and instead of travelling back via train like the other plebs, she stepped through the floo after breakfast. A dreary breakfast where Dumblebore droned on about rubbish. She’d wished Blaise a happy Easter, nodded at Nott and Davis and accepted a high five from Dennis.

Molly looked stressed as she entered the kitchen heading straight to the kettle to get a brew on.

“Milly love,” Molly grabbed onto her hands. “We’ve agreed to take Julia to a dance tonight with Mr and Mrs Smith, but none of the elder boys are able to be here. Could you be the responsible one?”

“Not even the twins?” Millicent asked confused. They hadn’t said anything the day before about not coming back.

Molly’s face turned thunderous. “They’ve got “plans”. Which they didn’t have the decency to inform me of until half an hour ago. With Bill being caught up with work, and Percy finally dating now, I wouldn’t like to leave Ginny alone.”

“We can stay at Gran’s? We’ve decided we need to earn some money this holiday, so we’ll be able to have some time to plan,” Millicent offered “Drop us off as you head off to the dance.”

“Wonderful idea,” Molly pulled her into a tight hug, and Millicent soaked up the motherly affection. She adored Molly. “Tell me everything that’s been happening this week. I’ve had some interesting messages from the boys.”

It didn’t take long, and yet even seeing Molly each weekend, and writing weekly, she always listened. And asked questions.

“So… whose Percy dating?” Millicent asked after she’d finally run out of things to tell Molly. Not mentioning the newly awakened passion for lamb helped. It cut down on a lot of actual gossip.

“He won’t say, only that she’s clever and not a redhead,” Molly sighed. “He did tell us, which is a miracle.”

“I could find out?” Millicent offered eagerly. “He’d probably tell me, or we could see if Mopsy can find out. She’s excellent at finding out the gossip.”

“No dear, it’s best to let him come to us, when he’s ready. Shouldn’t take too long, not if we’re already being told,” Molly cupped her cheek. “Ginny’s not stopped talking about a young man named Dean, what do you think of him?”

“Dean,” Millicent pulled a face. “He has the worst musical taste, she could do tonnes better, honest Molly.”

“Now dear, loves more than music,” Molly chided gently, and Millicent did her best not to pull a face.

“It’s more than music though. He likes southern music, posh music. It speaks to his character,” Millicent pointed out patiently. She’d tried to engage Blaise in the conversation, but he claimed not to have a horse in the race. Davis looked like she might be baited, but Nott had stopped that interaction. “And I understand that technically you are southern too, and I don’t hold that against you. You are well on your way to embracing the North, and that’s what really counts at the end of the day.”

Molly gave her a fond smile, Millicent squirmed under it. “He’s terrible with the little ones too. You should see it, absolutely awful. And he keeps wanting to turn the club into a Muggle club rather than a Yo Yo one without any thought behind it. I agreed to the Yo Yo part under sufferance. To do more needs a lot of planning and organisation. And, he’s a dork, a real dork. Ginny needs someone who isn’t. Someone who isn’t a lion too, to balance her out. It’ll give any potential offspring a chance, no offence.”

“None taken dear,” Molly laughed softly.

“I’m working through a list of suitable candidates. Percy’s agreed to speak to some people for me, to vet them. Bill’s too busy to help, which is fine, Percy has better Ministry connections. I’ve thrown a couple of wildcards in, because, well,” Millicent blew out her cheeks pondering the wisdom of sharing all of her knowledge regarding Ginny’s kissing habits with Molly. Some days it felt like all she did was bump into a Weasley snogging someone. Ron and Granger, Ginny and Dean, Fred and Spinnet, George and his yo yo.

“Ginny will be fine, dear.”

“She is better now she’s gotten over Potter,” Millicent exhaled sharply. “Honestly, anyone who falls for the speccy prat needs locking up. Even Dean with his questionable musical tastes is an improvement.”

“Harry isn’t all that bad,” Molly tapped her on the nose. “He has things to work on, but at heart, he’s not a bad boy.”

“Baddest boy,” Mopsy sniffed, appearing with a pile of washing. “Mopsy can be making sure never makes more.”

“Mopsy,” Molly warned, and Millicent winked at her while Molly’s back was turned.

“Miss Molly, Mopsy not be doing that. Mopsy promising not interfering with fertility,” Mopsy squeaked, her eyes filling with tears that Millicent knew were fake. They’d been practising getting out of trouble faces on and off at night, it’d seemed prudent recently.

“Mopsy better not,” Molly said firmly. “Mopsy is in enough trouble as it is. Severus came to us in a terrible state. If it wasn’t for the risk to Milly’s safety, you’d be staying with Julia all the time.”

“Mopsy be knowing,” Mopsy hung her head, looking slightly more genuine to Millicent. “Mopsy wrote a letter to angry cat.”

Millicent cringed, she’d not realised it’d been the old bag’s rug, she was dead.

“You’ll do more than write,” Molly huffed giving Mopsy a warning look. “Enough of that for now, is that Julia’s or Milly’s washing?”

“Miss Julia’s,” Mopsy gave Millicent a furtive look, one that she honestly didn’t understand.

“Did you bring much home, love?” Molly asked gently.

“Only the last couple of days. Mopsy’s great at keeping on top of it for me. A couple of towels and my uniforms,” Millicent answered. She wasn’t sure why Gran’s bedding would need to be washed again so soon. She’d watched Mopsy strip Gran’s bed only on Sunday afternoon. Mopsy did like to keep busy though, so it probably was because of that. “I was going to do my washing on Sunday, at Gran’s if that’s ok?”

“Nonsense dear,” Molly smiled. “You’ll be staying here at night. It’ll be no bother to get it done with everyone else’s.”

“Ginny’s bringing back lots,” Millicent warned. “And Harry complained about the pile of unwashed stuff in their dorm, something about it walking.”

“That blasted boy,” Molly scowled.

Ginny didn’t seem overly bothered about being babysat, mainly because Millicent wasn’t daft enough to use the word to describe it. They were both glad to be out of the house. Ron disappeared shortly after dumping all of his laundry in the kitchen, shouting he’d promised to spend time with Harry. It’d left Molly absolutely livid, and she could easily be mistaken as an angry rock troll with the force of her stomping. Millicent was half impressed, she wouldn’t lie. Ron wanted to die, it was the only explanation.

“So I was thinking, if the weather holds out, and according to the forecast it should, we can easily paint a few fences first. Normally I paint in the summertime, the weather’s more reliable, but it’s supposed to be dry and warm for the next week. Weeding too, a couple of mornings of weeding, hedge cutting and mowing lawns and we should have enough between us to get a video player,” Millicent pulled out her list. She’d been doing sums, based off her previous years takings, taking away a little to make up for the fact that Ginny would slow them down considerably. Also, they’d be losing time with Bill taking them to a couple of places. Even so, if they worked hard, it should be easy enough to achieve.

And if not, well, she could always offer to do a couple of full days babysitting the devilspawn himself. That would definitely tip them over the edge.

She wasn’t wrong either. They spent five solid days painting fences, chopping back hedges, weeding and edging paths and flower beds. Ginny even kept up for the most part. Millicent would do the more physical part, especially the bits involving ladders, but Ginny didn’t stop, even when Millicent told her she could.

Molly glowed with pride when they returned back each evening, exhausted, covered in mud, paint and greenery, but grinning, flush with cash, chattering like magpies about the gossip of the day.

It was doing wonders for Millicent’s anger issues, and her dreams contained nothing but the sweet sweet blanket of sleep. Which wasn’t entirely true, the girls hadn’t spoken about the night when they’d read the latest letter from the fanclub. Millicent had a particularly vivid dream about going out to watch Oasis with Rufio, and she was completely brainless the following morning.

Going to see Oasis had been a dream come true. She’d sung loudly with the girls, having ditched Bill and the Twins for Mary and Gilly and a gang of their friends. She’d been accepted into the herd with kisses, shrieking, and jumping. The gaggle clung to each other as they sang their hearts out near the front, screaming until the band came back on for an encore. It was the best night ever, and nothing would ever top it.

Not even a bit of homophobia dented the night, after a couple of lads took offence to being ignored. It ended up with Mary and Gilly snogging their hearts out before smothering Millicent in sloppy cheek kisses, which she promptly scrubbed off. No one wanted slobber on their cheeks. Especially not after it encouraged the rest to do the same.

She could barely speak the following morning, and her hearing wasn’t the greatest. Still, worth it to be able to get right up near the front by being fairly pretty young women. They had plans to get tickets to go to Knebworth park, after a better gang of lads had started talking to them about it. Lucy, one of Gilly’s mates had copped off with one of them shortly after.

“Did you have fun?” Molly asked Millicent who’d gratefully accepted the honeyed tea.

“It was amazing,” Millicent beamed. She was still riding the high, barely able to close her eyes to sleep. Her ticket was taped into the small case of valuable things, which so far included the ticket, the note from Dante and her dad’s passport.

“She abandoned us, Mum,” Fred sauntered in looking a lot more alert than Millicent felt. “She ran away with Hufflepuff’s and abandoned us in the Muggle world.”

Millicent stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t be jealous because I got more kisses than you.”

“George was,” Fred grinned. “I’m happy keeping all my kisses for Alicia.”

Molly made a cooing noise, and he flushed, Millicent started to snicker only to end up coughing instead.

“We’re going to get tickets to Knebworth, where they’ll be playing again with some other groups. Gilly says she’s got connections and it shouldn’t be too hard for us to get them,” Millicent took a long slurp on her tea, grinning as Molly tutted at the noise.

“I’ll write to Gilly,” Bill joined them from the kitchen where he’d been working. He’d looked amused when she eventually returned escorted by the girls who’d babbled at the three brothers until a parent arrived to collect them.

“They are the absolute best,” Millicent sighed happily. “Gilly’s got a spare cd player and is going to bring it over to Gran’s so we can have it for Muggle club. Even donating some of her duplicate cds, and some she no longer listens to. I was thinking I might hit up some charity shops too, and get some, they should be dirt cheap, although the selection might be a bit random.”

“I thought it was Yo Yo club?” George muttered from behind the sofa. He’d looked worse for wear and had stolen a cushion to sprawl on the floor claiming he needed the darkness. “Mum doesn’t know Gilly.”

“She might do, Molly knows Mary’s mum,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “And they are much nicer than anyone else in the school. Shame they have to graduate, the standards are going to plummet without them. And they run a mean mile.”

“Dorothy is very proud of Mary, she’s a beater, Dorothy thinks she could easily play for the national team,” Molly added after a moments thought. “It’s nice that she’s doing so well, and that you’ve made some more friends.”

Millicent whined as Fred pulled a face at her. “I have friends. Also, they asked if I’d be a bridesmaid at their wedding. As their honorary little sister. It’s not going to be a proper wedding mind, because the law sucks, but a commitment ceremony.”

“It’ll be my first time, Timmy’s mum isn’t married and she’s the closest who could who wasn’t already,” Millicent buzzed.

“You can be a bridesmaid with Ginny for Percy, I won’t hold my breath for the others,” Molly ruffled her hair.

“Thanks Mum,” Fred winked. “Alicia doesn’t believe in the sanctity of marriage and thinks we should stick it to the man.”

Molly frowned at him so he backtracked. “We’re a bit young.”

“Same age as Mary,” Millicent pointed out helpfully, giggling as George piped up in agreement.

“They’ve been a pair since first year though, Alicia only agreed to go steady end of last year,” Fred flailed.

“Aww, going steady and only wanting to keep his kisses for her, practically married already,” Millicent cooed, George finally scrabbling upright, hanging off the back of the sofa.

“Dibs best man.”

“As the eldest,” Bill teased.

“Oi!” the twins glared at him in unison.

“They want to get married start of summer, so we could plan Fred’s for the end, and I’m sure they’d let us borrow any decorations Alicia likes,” Millicent cooed.

“Oi!” Fred shrieked. “Mum!”

“Stop teasing Fred, he needs to talk to Alicia before setting a date,” Molly soothed, and Fred paled.

“Back in the village today, pet?” Molly changing the subject as Fred hopped over the sofa to whisper with George.

“Day off I think. Ginny’s got plans with Dean and I promised Mopsy I’d help her with things,” Millicent pulled her knees in tightly. “Has Gran talked about Easter yet?”

Molly shook her head.

“We go to the service, then we normally have roasted lamb, and for afters she does a blancmange with a rabbit jelly mould too,” Millicent shuddered. “It’s disgusting, but we have it every year. I think it gets worse every year too, it wiggles as she cuts into it, and hide the food colouring, she likes to experiment with the colour.”

“Roast lamb sounds nice,” Molly smiled as Bill turned a bit green at the sound of the blancmange. “And we’re going to the church for service.”

“I don’t mind taking her,” Millicent offered. “It’s normally a long one, and the hymns are rubbish compared to the Christmas ones.”

“Millicent,” Molly chided gently.

“Sorry Molly,” Millicent shrank under her look. “We don’t do the easter egg thing, so you don’t need to worry about that. We do paint eggs and then roll them - it’s silly, but Gran used to do it with my Dad, and we just keep it up.”

She pretended not to see Molly tear up, choosing instead to roll her eyes at Bill as she was scooped into yet another amazing Molly hug.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often Millicent felt jealousy or envy. Rage she was well acquainted with, but as she was sat at Gran’s kitchen table with Mopsy and Gran, the green was becoming more than her house colour.

“Very pretty,” Gran said as Mopsy placed another beautifully decorated egg in its cup to dry. Mopsy had painted six delicate stained glass themed fairytale scenes. Millicent’s eggs were smudged landscapes with the green grass looking more muddy in several places.

“Thanking you, Miss Julia,” Mopsy beamed, and a tiny evil little bit of Millicent wondered if she could accidentally fall on the table and break them all.

“I didn’t know you could make colours like that with our paints,” Millicent painted a smile onto the sun viciously. The brushes were basic and shed everywhere. The paints were from several years ago, used only to paint eggs once a year. Mopsy managed to make them look like Malfoy spent a fortune to get them imported. On her eggs anyway. Millicent’s looked like what they actually were.

“Mopsy just be using what Miss Julia provided,” Mopsy bounced in her chair. “Mopsy can be helping Miss Millicent?”

“Millicent can do her own eggs,” Gran answered. “Even if she is being slow this year.”

“Sorry Gran,” Millicent shrugged her shoulders out and dabbed the brush into the murky water to clean it. “I won’t be too much longer.”

“Once you’ve done we can start on the blancmange,” Gran smiled in a way she’d not seen for a long time, and Millicent felt her breath catch. “Mopsy managed to find me the green food dye I wanted. We’ll have a purple rabbit on a field of green jelly, so there’s enough for all of Molly’s lot.”

Millicent decided the best response was a timid agreement. “Orange jelly?” Because Gran only really liked orange jelly, and with enough warning Millicent could feign being ill.

“Of course, and we’ve got some marmalade so it’ll have chunks in,” Gran leaned over to pat her hand. “It’s been a while since we had orange jelly.”

“I can’t wait,” Millicent lied.

“Mopsy be making sure everything is ready for it,” Mopsy sounded incredibly proud and Millicent wanted to throttle her. She’d arranged with Molly to hide all the ingredients so they could pretend the shops were out, and Mopsy had managed to circumvent it.

“You’re the best,” Millicent lied again.

She chose to do blue skies with white splatters for the stars, with fingerprints acting like clouds, or that at least was the plan. Also a very easy paint job that she still managed to mess up to finish them off.

Even with the looming dread of making the horrific blancmange, cleaning the table up after painting was familiar and soothing. Not even the moving pictures on the paper dulled the effect.

“How is school, Millicent?” Gran asked while Millicent stirred the jelly until all of the gelatin had dissolved.

“Better, Gran,” Millicent found it not to be a lie for once. “I don’t hate it currently.”

“Castor finished school when he was 16,” Gran mentioned. “Hated every second he was away, things were different then. He got a job straightaway down the mines with that young Hendry scamp.”

Millicent hummed in agreement. “He was good at school though, wasn’t he?”

“Not as good as you,” Gran said after a minute. “He spent his first year trying to get sent home, silly boy. Thought his friends would forget about him while he was away.”

“They didn’t,” Millicent gave her a quick smile.

“If that they had,” Gran sniffed. She blamed the Hendry’s for Dad’s death, not that they had anything to do with it.

“Will you be going back?” Gran asked after Millicent poured the jelly into the flat tray.

“I don’t have to,” Millicent shrugged. “It’ll be no skin off my nose if I don’t. I go because you told me I had to.”

“It’s what you’ve all had to do,” Gran tapped the marmalade. “A good amount now, no need to skimp on the marmalade.”

“No Gran,” Millicent agreed reluctantly. She even made sure it was spread evenly after both Mopsy and Gran commented on the corner that had remained safe from the cut fruit.

Mopsy mixed the food colouring in the blancmange claiming she was better at colours than Millicent. Which was, sadly, true. The jelly had to be rescued as Millicent had failed to add enough green in to turn it into the right colour of grass for Gran. She also made a mental note to warn Bill at any rate, that the jelly wasn’t lime flavoured. She knew from past experience that it made it worse tasting the unexpected.

Bill had taken one look in the fridge and turned a similar colour to the jelly at the monstrosity. And that was without the whipped cream puffs Gran liked to add just before serving.

Easter service started at the very respectable time of ten, Arthur and Molly driving Gran up, while the youngsters with Mopsy walked.

“Stop trying to kill me,” Ginny whined after Millicent picked the speed up.

“You’ve done this lots this last week,” Millicent grinned.

“I have shorter legs than you,” Ginny smacked her.

“You could’ve gotten a lift with Gran,” Millicent was unrepentant.

“You said it was tradition to walk up,” Ginny scowled.

“That’s because it’s also tradition to be gifted so much chocolate that you need to work up an appetite otherwise you’ll be ill,” Millicent winked, accepting Bill’s arm as they got closer to the church. Ginny was practically hanging off the twin’s while Percy walked the other side of Bill, chatting about the latest menu items at some cafe in the city. Ron had chosen to stay with Harry the night before.

“Miss Millicent not be eating chocolate until she’s sick,” Mopsy warned, clinging onto Millicent’s other hand. She looked very pretty in a dress that Molly claimed used to be Ginny’s, and a giant sun hat that Millicent didn’t recognise.

The church looked, well, the path needed edging, and she could see the fence would need painting again soon. And the ivy was threatening to latch onto the stone work again, which meant she’d be wrangling that before long. Still, the flowers inside were bright and colourful.

Gran was sat next to Mrs Smith with Molly and Arthur chatting to the Pollard’s who were a younger retired couple, no children but devoted dog owners.

“Millicent,” the Vicar greeted her with a suspicious eye as she made her way to let Gran know they’d arrived.

“Vicar,” Millicent beamed at him. “If the Church is free on Wednesday I’ll be up to do the path.”

“It’s about time it was done.” As if she was being paid to do and had deliberately avoided doing the job she’d only started doing as a help to the village. “It’s been noted you’ve been helping out at the weekends.”

“When I can, Vicar. You were right about keeping busy, helps with all my issues,” Millicent smiled sweetly.

“So does a close relationship with God,” the Vicar preached. “Spiritual development is important in a young girl's life.”

“Yes Vicar,” she agreed.

“Millicent!” Daisy, the devilspawn’s mother grabbed onto her, the Vicar frowning. “Sorry Vicar, the babysitter cancelled last minute. Millicent, would you keep an eye on Timmy for me during the service? I’ve two readings to do.”

Millicent felt herself crumble under the eager expression on Daisy’s face. It wasn’t Daisy’s fault she’d had the misfortune of bringing the demonspawn into being, but it wasn’t Millicent’s either.

“Of course,” she agreed.

“He did get in the chocolate this morning,” Daisy apologised, darting to the back of the church where a couple of toys were being bashed by Timmy. “He’s promised to be a good boy, and I brought him his sippy cup in case he needs a drink.”

“I’ll sit at the back then,” Millicent escaped the Vicar, ignoring the face pulling from the Weasley cohort, not that she was surprised when all but Molly and Arthur followed her.

“Red!” Timmy screamed happily, accepting being handed over to Millicent as Daisy made her way up to the front of the church to take her place.

“Yes, all very red,” Millicent agreed, muttering as he grabbed at Ginny’s hair. “We don’t grab, it’s rude.”

They spent the service keeping him entertained, the Twin’s having the most success with magic tricks, Ginny having to sit the furthest away as her hair proved to be like catnip for the young boy.

Daisy, in fairness, did have a good voice and seemed to really believe in the teachings. The Vicar droned on, and Timmy only screamed three times, which was far better than any other time she’d seen him in church.

“Thanks, Millicent, you’re always so good with him,” Daisy escaped from the Vicar. “Are you all coming down to the hall? And did you bring your eggs for rolling?”

“Have to ask Gran,” Millicent glanced at Gran who looked like she was having a ball with Mrs Smith, Mr Smith appeared to have taken the time to have a quick nap. He was a snorer and didn’t seem to have a problem sleeping through services.

“Timmy, what do you say to Millicent,” Daisy prompted, picking the young tow-headed boy up.

“Egg rolling!”

“Timmy,” Daisy laughed.

It was no surprise that Molly insisted that they all went egg rolling before heading to the hall. She was instantly charmed by the mini Malfoy as he babbled at her about her lovely hair.

“I’ll keep an eye on his hands,” Bill muttered in Millicent’s ear as Arthur chattered to Daisy and Gran.

“He doesn’t even like boiled eggs,” Millicent sighed. “He just likes smashing things.”

There was a little incident when only Millicent’s eggs broke as they were rolled down the gentle slope. Mopsy pouted after Millicent hissed at her.

“We can blow the egg out of raw ones so you can make some to keep, but the point of these is they crack, Fred’s winning because he’s only picking yours.”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy whined.

“Mopsy!”

Mopsy started crying, and she knew it was all false tears. “No, take off the charm or whatever you’ve done, before I tell Molly and then you’ll really be in trouble.”

Bill coughed from behind her. “Molly’s a bigger threat. No offence.”

“None taken,” he said with a grin. “Mopsy, don’t make us tell Mum.”

Mopsy stamped her foot and suddenly the eggs started cracking, unfortunately for Fred it was at the moment he’d thrown it as hard as he could at the floor to show off to George, the pair of them getting covered in exploding boiled egg.

“Boys, really,” Molly tutted, Timmy clinging to her hand tightly, his other hand reaching for Molly’s hair.

“Yeah,” Millicent mumbled, hiding her face in Bill’s jacket so as not to get caught laughing.

After the final winner of the egg trials had won, Timmy - Millicent was sure Molly had cheated there, they made their way collectively to the hall.

She’d not lied about the amount of chocolate there. Mountains of chocolate eggs with mugs, with smarties, with pound coins wrapped in kitchen roll. Not just for Millicent either, Ginny had a few, and more from just their clients for the week. They were called good girls repeatedly, so much so that Ginny was burning redder than her hair.

Bill even had one, off Mr Hendry, as payment for helping him with something. Neither man would own up to what.

They got back to Molly’s early evening, the roast lamb perfectly cooked, not as good as a Hendry lamb, but good.

There was a collective silence as Gran’s dessert came out. It grew louder as the squirty cream made an appearance.

“The jelly is orange-flavoured,” Millicent whispered to Bill.

“I’m not finishing it off,” he muttered back.

“I won’t be able to,” Millicent hissed back. “It’ll make me incredibly ill. And I had to every other year - the jelly is so everyone gets some.”

“Who wants the head?” Gran asked as Arthur stood over the monstrosity with an uneasy expression. “Millicent? You love the head.”

“I don’t want to deprive anyone. I’m happy with a bit of jelly.”

“Nonsense Millicent, what about the tail, you quite like eating the tail,” Gran gave her a stern look, and Molly smacked Fred who’d started snickering.

“I would love a paw, thank you, Dad,” Percy bravely stepped up, Millicent mouthed wuss at Bill.

“A paw sounds good,” Bill spoke up after a long look.

“Can I have the tail,” Ginny asked, chewing on her finger. “But a small bit, I might have eaten too much chocolate.”

Which was a lie, they’d not even opened any of it yet. Gran however seemed to have forgotten and was beaming, watching Percy intently as he brought a spoonful to his lips. “It’s Millicent’s favourite.”

“Yes,” Millicent lied, watching as Percy tentatively opened his mouth and took a tiny bite. He seemed to contemplate before swallowing, then took a slightly bigger bite.

Bill on the other hand just dug his spoon in and swallowed without tasting. “Delicious, Mrs Johnson.”

“Liar,” George whispered behind his back, and Millicent bit back the giggles.

“I’ll take the head,” Arthur fell on the sword, dishing himself up a larger piece than he’d done for the others. “Molly?”

“Oh just a tiny bit for me, my eyes were bigger than my stomach,” Molly demurred.

Ginny choked as she made the rooky mistake of combining the blancmange and orange chunky jelly, downing her glass of water immediately afterwards.

“George, Fred?” Arthur said pointedly, waving the spoon at the still large quantity of pudding on the table.

“Can I have the heart, Dad?” George asked with a grin.

“I want the lungs,” Fred cackled.

“Gran, are you not having any?” Millicent asked.

“I’ll have a little bit, with a sherry,” Gran took a drink pushing her now empty glass across to Millicent.

“How about you, Mopsy?” Millicent remembered, the little sneak having drifted further away from the table.

“It not be good for elves,” Mopsy stroked her ears. “Elves be being ill on oranges.”

“Liar,” George whispered again, Mopsy stamping her feet.

“Mopsy know’s what’s bad for her,” Millicent stood up for her, even though she was definitely lying. They’d eaten duck l’orange one Saturday when Mopsy wanted to try some different recipes from Gran’s old cookbooks.

In fairness, Millicent was pretty sure it was bad for all of them.

She considered using the excuse of watching her weight, when she returned back with a sherry for Gran. Except it wouldn’t excuse the millions of eggs she was planning on consuming over the rest of the holiday.

“A little bit,” Millicent passed her empty bowl over, wincing as Gran nudged the can of evaporated milk at her. She’d thought that she could get away with it. Molly didn’t even have it in the house normally. Mopsy looked a little guilty as Millicent steeled herself to take a spoonful.

She knew it was orange jelly, she knew it was, but somehow it tasted worse than ever. The marmalade made the overly sweet fake orange flavour bitter and chunky. The blancmange had a faint sour strawberry, odd consistency, and the squirty cream and sweet evaporated milk, all felt like they were curdling in her stomach.

“It’s lovely,” Millicent managed to croak out, focusing on not throwing up afterwards.

“Next year we can do a gooseberry jelly,” Gran said happily.

“I can’t wait,” Millicent lied, closing her eyes to shovel the rest of her bowl in, swallowing as quickly as possible. She couldn’t help the full body shudder as it went down, and excused herself shortly after to gulp in the fresh air.

“I’m not finishing it off,” Bill muttered, stroking a hand down her back as she leaned over.

“Just vanish it or something,” Millicent groaned. “I should’ve been ill today. I knew it was coming.”

“Every year?” He asked.

“Every single year. No one wants to share Easter with us because of it. We go to the hall, and then come back to that. Without the jelly normally, but, I really really hate blancmange,” Millicent pulled her hair back as she felt her stomach writhe.

“So not on the menu for our wedding,” he teased, soothing her back as she gagged. “The chocolate isn’t staying at your Gran’s either after you go back.”

“I can’t even think about eating,” Millicent pinched his leg.

“If I want to even pretend to be as fit as Charlie, you’ll keep temptation out of my way,” Bill joked.

Molly sent Percy out with a settling potion for her, giving her a gentle hug as they made their way eventually back inside.

“Thank you for making Easter, Easter,” Millicent mumbled into her hair.

“You’re welcome, love.”

Chapter Text

Millicent wasn’t sure what she expected from Bill’s work. Technically, she knew he worked in the bank. That he used to do more site work. That he had his own office. That there was a canteen. That was about it. She knew more about Percy’s job than she did Bill’s, which was more down to enjoying the malicious backbiting that seemed to happen in the Ministry, than liking Percy more than Bill. There wasn’t much backbiting going on at Bill’s, or not in his section anyway.

Bill did have an office. It was messy. Far messier than he left Gran’s, where other than a few nods to the wizarding world - the newspaper, his broom, and his furniture in the “receiving room” which was now back to being the living room, he kept Gran’s neat and tidy. Only a few crumbs by the bread bin, and the occasional knife balancing on the edge of the sink. He didn’t even have Mopsy keep it clean, or not that she owned up to. And Millicent spent most Saturdays in the kitchen at Gran’s to catch up on her GCSE stuff. She was appalled at the state of his office.

Ginny on the other hand didn’t look shocked at all.

“Molly hasn’t seen this, has she?” Millicent asked after she’d had time to process the entirety of the mess.

“It’s not that bad,” Bill straightened up a couple of piles.

“How can you find anything?”

“I have a system,” he sounded defensive.

“It’s falling on the floor,” Millicent stared at it again, hoping she’d taken something off one of the Twin’s and it was all a mirage. “I want to call Mopsy and get her to sort it out, but I think she might just die seeing this.”

“He’s always been like this,” Ginny chirped, perching on what looked like a table.

“Thanks, Gin,” Bill glared at her. “I’ve tidied up a bit, it’s not that bad.”

“Tidied? Was it all on the floor before?” Millicent asked. “Does your boss know about this?”

“Yes,” Bill muttered, he had one hand on a pile that had started to slip. “You can’t go anywhere without me.”

“I wasn’t,” Millicent lied, having started to back away to the door. It was giving her flashbacks to Gran’s before Mopsy arrived. “Do you want us to help you tidy? Because we charge for that now.”

“We do, and you won’t even get a family discount,” Ginny crossed her arms.

“I don’t even know if it’ll help, I think it might be passed the point of no return,” Millicent exchanged a look with Ginny, before addressing Bill again. “Do you really need every bit of paper ever made, in here?”

“I’m cross-referencing.”

“So no,” Millicent shuddered.

“Mum used to shout something fierce at him,” Ginny added. “It’s the only time he’s not the favourite when she sees his room.”

“Gin!” Bill glared. “I have a system, and it’s all very necessary.”

He seemed to decide letting them stay in the office of doom was a bad idea after that, hurrying them out while muttering under his breath about traitorous family members.

“This is where I decurse items.”

“It’s impressive,” Millicent lied. The room felt oppressive, no doubt down to the amount of wards, thick walls, lead lining and whatever else they used to stop Bill from blowing up the entire world if he got it wrong. It was also, most importantly, beige. Someone, somewhere, and somehow must have ordered a job lot of beige paint, and then used it. Everywhere.

“This is for the stuff that isn’t likely to blow up,” Bill explained, petting a beige table in the very centre of the room. It reminded her of a bar top, designed to be stood at, with no chair or rest to allow any form of comfort. Just a table.

“What happens to the stuff that is?” Millicent asked as Ginny peered outside of the room, no doubt desperate for a glimpse of anything that wasn’t beige.

“We have an island for that,” Bill answered distractedly, fondling the beige table to the extent that Millicent began to wonder if maybe the table might have become cursed. “Unplottable.”

“Makes sense,” Millicent agreed. Ginny rolled her eyes as Bill started to tell them about the last item he’d decursed on the table. A teaspoon. An antique one, but still a teaspoon. If anyone wanted to ask Millicent about it, she would’ve suggested that instead of spending an entire week researching the twisted curse, maybe - and hear her out, they could’ve just melted it down. Or tossed it in a volcano and moved on with their lives. Millicent liked to skip to the volcano part of the Lord of the Rings. It was a satisfying solution.

The wizarding world obviously didn’t know about antique shops that had all sorts of random tat in that they could replace teaspoons with. Perhaps she could convince Ginny to go into business and run one as a side gig. While they were both doing actual things with their time. Junk shops always seemed to run on their own timescales anyway, so it would be fitting. Or do mail order. Write in for random tat, and then enjoy the surprise in the post.

Bill was still rabbiting on about the teaspoon, and Millicent was ready to go home. She’d rather be edging the pathway to the Church at this point. Or shaping the hedge into an interesting shape. Or finding a needle in the haystack.

She blew air out of her cheeks and started totting up the time they had left. It wouldn’t take too long, a day at most by the time she walked up there, did a bit of weeding and then edged, swept up and walked back. Ginny was meeting up with Dean and had plans to do something with Lovegood. Which meant Millicent would have some time without her, and she had Friday when everyone else had to travel back to school. She’d talk to Mr Hendry about getting a lift to go get the video player.

She became aware of Bill looking at her with excitement.

“Brilliant,” Millicent guessed the response, widening her eyes.

“I know! I love my job!” Bill hadn’t stopped fondling the table, and Ginny seemed to be half asleep leaning in the doorway. “If you want, I can ask if you can be here next time, watching from the observation room next door. I’ve been told it’s fascinating to watch.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get into any bother,” Millicent hoped he’d pick up on the hint. “This has been far too much as it is. Could you imagine what my peers might think when they hear about how much I’ve experienced here?”

She might have piled it on a bit, Blaise would’ve poked her for being so obvious, but Bill didn’t seem to have noticed. “We can go and see the staff canteen next, it’s a very good one.”

“We can’t wait,” Millicent kicked Ginny in the ankle. “Can we?”

“Can we get a drink?” Ginny asked, casually swiping away the drool formed at the edges of her mouth.

“I’ll treat you to a cake as well,” Bill beamed in their direction, leading them out of the room after one last caress of the tabletop.

“Are we sure he’s not married already?” Millicent muttered to Ginny who was busy halfheartedly hiding a yawn.

“You’ve only seen the cool Bill before. Now you get to see nerdy Bill,” Ginny snickered, draping herself over Millicent’s arm. “Mum told me I had to come cos the boys refused.”

Millicent could understand why as Bill explained in great detail who worked in which office, all of it being utterly fascinating. Millicent worked hard to make sure she made the appropriate noises.

“Beel!” A faintly familiar blonde woman waved enthusiastically from a corner table, the moment they entered the staff room.

“Fleur!” Bill hurried over, accepting the very unnecessary face kisses, while Ginny and Millicent rolled their eyes. “Meet my sister Ginny, and this is Millicent.”

“We’ve met, zis is Harry’s friend,” Fleur kissed Ginny on each cheek with increasing vigor. “But I do not know Milliceent.”

Millicent still couldn’t quite remember who the French bint was, beyond she was French, and Ginny was getting a bit starry-eyed. Maybe she was a part-time singer or quidditch player.

“Probably not. I’m not Harry’s friend,” Millicent held her hand out before Fleur could get any ideas.

“But he iz such a good boy,” Fleur gaped in an overly dramatic French manner.

“He’s the original bad boy,” Millicent allowed her hand to hang in the air, relishing in the awkwardness. “Same year, different house. Not like you though.”

“She’s the Beauxbaxton champion,” Ginny whispered before smacking her hand down.

“Oh yeah, of course you are. You did alright, right?” Millicent blinked. She’d not paid much attention to the games. Durmstrang had a few tall ones, and very occasionally, when no one paid attention, she managed to get lost in their classes. She’d learned more about certain subjects than their lot had. Still, missing out using unforgiveables on Malfoy had been overly annoying. Proving once again that there was always a cloud to the silver lining. Blaise had promised if she ever made it over to Italy, he’d share the memory.

She might have to write to Krum’s lot, see if they took on sixth years and finish off her education - Bill was looking at her. “Sorry?”

“It was very sad about Cedric,” Fleur was actually mopping her eyes.

“Yes,” Millicent agreed. It was also sad that Ginny had almost died in second year - Ginny shared that after a nightmare. Another tragedy had been Malfoy retaining his head after insulting a hippogriff. She blamed herself for that one, Gran warned her that wishing too hard could make it not come true, and she’d practically promised anything to anyone listening if it happened. Bastard had the luck of the fae.

“You cheered for him,” Fleur snuck a kiss on her cheek once, and Millicent could feel herself starting to puff into hissing cat form.

“I actually cheered for Krum,” Millicent half snarled, scrubbing at her cheek, trying to remove the corrosive slobber.

Ginny snickered, manoeuvring herself in between the French bint and Millicent. The best for all involved because Millicent would happily rip Fleur’s vapid head off if she tried it again.

“You would,” Ginny winked at her.

“She had all the boys cheering her on, and her own school. Potter had Dumbledore and the house of the stupid, everyone else had Diggory to cheer for, and then poor old Krum only had a few,” Millicent shrugged. “I was just showing a bit of interscholastic spirit.”

“Not just because he’s built like a -“ Ginny cut herself off after a look from Bill.

“Ugh! No!” Millicent shuddered. “He’s so old. No offence, Fleur.”

The bint didn’t even understand the insult and just blinked with a confused expression.

“I’m too old,” Bill admitted good-naturedly.

“Is this the pretty girl?” Millicent checked, frowning as Bill gave a small nod. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much. You’d have ugly-haired kids with the combination of the two colours.”

“Thanks,” Bill said dryly. “Fleur’s found someone with much more compatibility.”

Ginny’s eyes gleamed, having not known about her brother’s failed romance. “Who?”

“He iz a leetle older,” Fleur looked slightly bamboozled. “I met him working in ze Ministry. He looked just like Beel, so I knew him to be good before we even met.”

“You have a thing for redheads, don’t you,” Millicent stared at her. “Ugh, I mean, Percy’s great, but, please think of the children.”

Bill cuffed her lightly behind the head.

“Your betrothed iz odd,” Fleur blinked at her.

“Better than colour blind,” Millicent shrugged. “Are we picking cake or are you going to starve us?”

“Subtle,” Bill tweaked her nose, leading them to the trays of cake. “We would’ve made beautiful children.”

“Come off it, she’s clearly got a fetish, I should warn Molly,” Millicent poked Ginny who was busy staring at the creamiest cream cake Millicent had ever seen. “You will not be able to eat that and stay clean.”

“Watch me.”

Millicent was right, Fleur had flagged them back down to sit with her, and they all watched with fascination as Ginny managed to get cream on her eyelashes as well as in her nose. Millicent’s own sugared doughnut that Ginny dared her to eat without licking her lips, was consumed with much less mess. And while Millicent had licked her lips, Ginny hadn’t witnessed it so covered in cream, that she got away with it.

She’d zoned completely out of the riveting discussion about tea sets, or whatever they planning on wasting time on next. She’d counted seventy three rows of tiles along one wall, because she really wanted to punch the blonde. And counting tedious things was one way of coping with that. She could still feel her saliva on her cheek, and Bill didn’t look like he carried around caustic soap to remove it.

“Milly,” Bill gently asked, breaking through her increasingly irate counting. She schooled her features and plastered on a smile. “Would you like to see where Fleur works? Or we can have a tour of the vaults where we keep the quarantined items?”

“The deadly stuff,” Millicent answered because she might actually attack the woman. She smelled funny, and Millicent wanted to rub sandpaper over her skin.

“It’s not deadly,” Bill lied.

“Just highly toxic,” Millicent nodded. It was also, marginally more exciting than everything else they’d been shown. She could feel the maliciousness emanating from some of the items. The twisted calling of darkness seeping through the air, even through the highly warded windows. Some looked innocent enough, but she’d also read more than enough spy novels that the most mundane of things could be the most dangerous.

“You could probably throw all of these into a volcano,” she helped. “If you wanted rid of them.”

He blinked, and Ginny snorted. She must have cut him off. “Sorry, I mean if you couldn’t come up with a suitable solution to remove the darkness.”

He looked momentarily stunned.

“So a volcano is where there’s been a rupture in the crust of the planet, and lava and gases escape from the magma chamber. Most of them are along the tectonic plates, so we don’t have them really here, but there is Etna, that’s a relatively close active ish one. Or Iceland, they have plenty. And no one really lives there that anyone really cares about, other than Bjork,” Millicent nodded. “They have to keep track of family trees, its all very pureblood inbred shit.”

“I know what a volcano is,” Bill stared at her.

“I bet Malfoy doesn’t,” she held her fist out to Ginny who bumped it. “I mean I would also lay odds on Dumbledore not knowing. Crazy old bastard.”

Ginny gave a considering look. “He’s probably forgotten about them.”

“It’s hard to remember mundane things like volcanoes when you have too many jobs,” Millicent hummed. “Anyway, it’s an option. You don’t even have to credit me with it. It’d probably work on getting rid of thieves too.”

“And virgins,” Ginny cackled. “We could sacrifice Malfoy to the sun gods.”

“They wouldn’t want him, he’s probably riddled with all sorts of hereditary and genetic diseases,” they both sighed. “We’ll have to come up with another way of removing him.”

“You both hated it,” Bill groaned. “Mum said you would.”

“It’s been fun,” Millicent lied.

“It’s so dull,” Ginny said at the same time. “Maybe if you showed doing it, you know, the decursing bit. But making us see papers, an empty room, a staff room, and then peering at a bunch of broken things? Don’t lie to him.”

“I’d rather be weeding,” Millicent gave a half-hearted smile. “Also, she’s toxic, my cheek feels like it’s going to fall off.”

Ginny turned Millicent’s head to the side and frowned. “It does look a bit like you’ve come up in a rash.”

“Can we go?” Millicent whined, scratching at it. “I want to have a strong bath.”

Bill touched it gently, frowning. “It feels hot to the touch. You must have had an allergic reaction to her cream.”

“I think it’s my strong Northern genes reacting to her sickly Southern ones,” Millicent scrubbed some more, batting his hand away as he tried to stop her.

Chapter Text

She managed to get the Church done without too much trouble, a promise to Ginny she didn’t need any help, after Ginny offered to cancel her date with Dean. Millicent needed the quiet, and it was a relief to have some time to herself. Not that the Vicar got the message, constantly popping out to make sure she knew what she was going. As if anyone else had been doing it for the last six years. He hadn’t even recognised the tulips without the heads.

He had thanked her, even if it was somewhat reluctantly, after she’d swept up and removed all the debris into the correct bins. She’d even managed to not commit to going to church every Sunday, without being overly rude.

Mr Hendry took her into town on the Thursday after she’d bumped into him on her way back from the Church looking at the bus timetables. They’d not gotten any better, three a day was utterly useless.

As she hopped into his landrover, Betsy looked excited to see her, her coat looking cleaner than normal.

“The vets weren’t happy,” Mr Hendry rubbed Betsy’s nose gently. “Had to take her to a groomer to get all the knots out.”

“I can do it,” Millicent offered. “I’m home most weekends, it won’t take much to give her a bath.”

He gave her a long look. “Your Gran’s not well, is she.”

“She’s better than she was,” Millicent gave a half-hearted shrug. “School let me half board though. They seem to think she’s going to die at any moment. She’s not. You know Gran.”

“Molly and Arthur seem like good people,” Mr Hendry didn’t quite change the subject.

“So’s Bill,” Millicent agreed. “And the rest of them.”

“He join’s us at the Poachers.”

“Really?” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “Better than the Plum I guess.”

“Not that you’d be knowing,” Mr Hendry commented, pulling into the bank car park. “Meet you back here in an hour?”

“Plenty of time,” Millicent hopped out, giving Betsy a good head scratch before heading up the high street. There were several potential machines all looking in fairly good nick, one that had two places for videos. There were a few blank ones for sale too. Not that she had any idea what to do with blank videos.

“I’ll give you them for free,” the lad behind the counter leered at her, and she rolled her eyes. She was clearly out of his league, being that she was human and he was obviously a human slug. “You out later?”

“Heading back to my Gran’s,” Millicent pulled out her pile of cash, counting it carefully before handing it over.

“Oh, and an employee discount,” he took the twenty and pushed the rest back to her. “Fancy going to the cinema?”

“Can’t, sorry,” Millicent lied, picking up the oversized bag. “Maybe next time.”

“Hold you to that,” he wolf whistled after her and she did her best not to slam the door. Bill would’ve been pleased she’d not smashed his head into the counter either.

Finding a copy of Hook wasn’t that hard either, the first two charity shops she hit had multiple copies, giving her options. Picking the one that looked brand new was an easy choice, as was picking up The Usual Suspects, Babe, Beauty and the Beast and Shallow Grave. All of which no one questioned her age over. The third shop had a decent selection of Now That’s What I Call Music, and Hit’s, as well as 5 for a £1 on mystery selections. She might have overindulged and got £5 worth. She was fairly sure there would be something worth listening to.

She still had some money left when Mr Hendry came strolling back to the carpark. “Fancy some fish and chips?”

“Only if it’s not a problem,” Millicent answered, biting back the urge to drool. She’d not had good fish and chips for ages. Normally Gran would’ve taken her into town to get some over the Winter Break, but with all the palaver, well…

“Eating in?” the dishwater blonde asked, hair scraped back so tightly she’d given herself a Liverpudlian facelift.

“I reckon so,” Mr Hendry paid their order before Millicent could.

“Dog’ll have to stay under the table,” the bored waitress showed them through to the sticky plastic tables. “Bread?”

“Aye,” Mr Hendry settled down, with Betsy happily sitting between the paid of them under the table.

“How’s school going?” He asked after the pot of tea had been slapped on the table.

“Better,” she shrugged. He knew about as much as anyone did about Millicent and her hatred for school, if not slightly more.

“Got in any trouble?” He asked with a small smirk.

“So much trouble,” she grinned. “But not serious trouble. Should pass my exams with good marks.”

“Good girl,” he laughed.

He’d ordered double portions, knowing her appetite was as bad as his, the pair of them wolfing down the first load without it even touching the sides. The second lot was savoured as the flaky white fish danced on her tongue, her finger dabbing the last bits of scraps up.

“Full?” he asked without judgment.

“Near enough,” Millicent leaned back in her chair. “Rest of the world can’t do it as good as here.”

“True enough,” he pushed his chair back, Betsy falling into place.

He dropped her back at Gran’s, with a promise that he’d watch out for Bill and keep him out of the Plum. Not that she believed him. She did thank him for the lift, and promised she’d pop over once a month on a Saturday morning to give Betsy a rinse and a brush.

Ginny was still out with Dean, so Millicent attempted to set up the video player by herself, slipping on Shallow Graves to watch after she finally cracked it. It wasn’t the least bit what she expected, but she was a little in love with it regardless. The sheer greed, the backstabbing and betrayal, the spiraling into madness, it was glorious. Also not something she’d let Bill know she was watching, so it got shoved into the bag. She might see if the Twins wanted to watch it at some point, if they could prove they weren’t snitches.

By the time he got back from work, she was busy playing with the recording function, taping Top of the Pops for reasons. “You want me to do what?”

“Record Top of the Pops for me,” Millicent batted her lashes at him. “I think I set up the timer right, so all you have to do is on a Thursday, before you go to work, just turn it all on. It’ll do the rest.”

He looked baffled.

“And then,” Millicent nibbled on her lips buying time to work out why she needed him to do that. “Then I can take it with me on a Sunday, so on a Monday in Muggle club we can watch music.”

“You don’t have to have a reason,” he said, shaking his head. “You can just want things.”

“I know,” Millicent pulled a face. “Anyway, I cut up some ham and I’ll do some eggs, there’s salad in the fridge and there’s a cold potato salad to go with it.”

He ruffled her hair, leaving to go wash up. “Two eggs?” she called after him.

“Three please,” he called down. “Extra runny.”

He dropped her back at the Burrow after they’d eaten and she’d started yawning, promising to collect her first thing before he left for work. She spent her last true day of freedom with Mopsy, weeding the garden and planting bulbs. They’d planted seedlings at the start of the holidays, after Bill promised he’d give them a cursory once over daily.

“Miss Julia is mad,” Mopsy whispered.

“What’s up?” Millicent asked, scrubbing her hands under the tap with the old scrub brush. She was going to have to wash her hair at this rate.

“Miss Molly isn’t Miss Viola,” Mopsy wrung her hands. “Miss Julia thinks Miss Molly stole Miss Viola.”

Millicent stared at her. “Whose Viola?”

“Mopsy doesn’t know,” Mopsy wailed. “Miss Molly doesn’t know either.”

Whatever it, or who she was, it seemed to all have been forgotten about when Millicent returned and asked about it.

“Nothing to worry about,” Molly patted her gently on the back.

“Molly,” Millicent bit her lip, pulling out the small pile of cash she’d saved after her spending spree. “I know it’s not much, and I’ll work on getting more, but thank you for looking after Gran for me.”

Molly dragged her into a tight hug, “Oh love, you don’t need to do that.”

“But you’ve taken on all this work, and it’s the least I can do, just until I finish with school,” Millicent’s voice didn’t wobble at all.

“Severus and Percy have been working hard, and now I’m officially down as Julia’s carer. It means that your Government is paying me, not that the reason why I’m doing it. Honestly petal, you worked hard for that. Keep it, treat yourself to something nice,” Molly brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. “You are such a good girl.”

“Not that good,” Millicent squirmed. “I spent a load of it first, bought a video player for me and Ginny.”

“That girl, honestly,” Molly hugged her again. “Hook again?”

“It’s such a good film,” Millicent withstood the hug for a while longer without squirming too much.

“Nothing to do with that young man in it,” Molly gave a knowing look.

“I mean, he’s a very good actor,” Millicent wriggled. “He really captured the essence of the character he was supposed to be playing. And his death scene, it brought us both to tears.”

“So Ginny has told me, several times.”

“He’s an artist,” Millicent let out a happy sigh. “She’s gone back, hasn’t she?”

“Yes dear, she did say goodbye at breakfast,” Molly gave her a fond look. “Although Bill did have you away before you ate anything.”

She sat with Gran for a bit, who spent most of her time sleeping, or doing the crossword which she seemed to delight in just putting whatever in.

“Love you, Gran,” Millicent kissed her cheek, heading up to bed when it appeared Gran was going to stay up with the telly on for the evening.

“Good girl,” Gran gave a fond smile, not shifting her attention from the latest soap drama.

Saturday was spent pouring over her coursework giving it one last read through with Percy correcting the minor spelling mistakes she’d made, before taking it to the education board overseeing her distance learning, getting a receipt to prove she had handed it in, and going with Percy to get icecream. One of the only times she’d ever been into Diagon Alley.

“Just exams left,” she slumped on the table, waiting for the obscene sundae combination to turn up.

“Have you thought about what you want to take next year?” He asked, sipping on his tea. Bill offered to join them, but as he’d lost time showing Ginny and Millicent around earlier on in the week, she’d promised that she wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t.

“Law,” Millicent tugged on an escaped strand of hair from the hair grip she’d found in town earlier on in the week.

“Not social work?” He turned slightly green as the concoction turned up at the table covered in heaps of cream and fruit.

“Well, to bring down the law, first we need to know it,” Millicent pointed out. “Politics too, and maths.”

“Just three?”

“On top of the six Newts thanks,” Millicent stabbed the spoon into the very top, making a hole before scraping it around the outsides, scooping up the already melting mess and eating it quickly, delicately, and efficiently.

“Decided on those yet?” Percy asked, watching with faint fascination as Millicent made quick work of her abomination.

“Arithmancy, Runes, Magical Creatures, History, Transfiguration, Potions,” she shrugged. “Stuff that’s going to be potentially useful, well other than History as no one pays attention to it anyway.”

He didn’t say anything, which was as good as an agreement. “I wasn’t going to take Potions, but you know, now with the whole Guardian thing, and it could be useful. I could brew up my own stuff without having to be overly concerned. Mopsy asked me to consider Herbology as well, but, I’m going to be swamped as it is,” Millicent licked the spoon before dropping it back in the bowl.

“It’s not that intensive,” Percy commented, holding his hand up as she glared at him. “Herbology, not the rest, think of it as a hobby class rather than something you’d need to get an outstanding on. Care of Magical Creatures doesn’t have a difficult work load either, from looking at the exam requirements. Nothing you couldn’t handle.”

“Really?” Millicent groaned.

“If you’re planning on trying to get through some of them in a year, then yes,” Percy offered her a napkin after she tried to find a clean one to wipe her fingers on.

“Think about it, you won’t need to tell anyone until you get your results back anyway,” Percy gave her a smile. “You might not get the requirements to take everything you want to anyway.”

Millicent gave him a look, she was on track to get O’s across the board. “Or you might change your mind.” He suggested.

“That might be true,” Millicent sighed. “Can you not do anything about Binns?”

Percy took a sip of his tea. “He’s useless Percy, I’m actually interested in it and he makes me want to kill myself. Just imagine what it’d be like if we had an actual teacher.”

“I’ll grant you, we all passed despite of him,” Percy admitted. “I’m not actually in charge of who is hired at Hogwarts.”

“No, but imagine how much easier it would be to get rid of him, than Umbridge was,” Millicent pleaded. “It’s not like he has to go go, exorcist style, but maybe he could just teach House elves or something, and we get an actual history professor?”

“Anyone else you want rid of at the same time?” Percy asked, giving her an exasperated look.

“I mean, Dumbledore,” Millicent whispered the last word just in case he popped up like a dark lord. “What does he do other than twinkle?”

“Wotcher Perce!” a pink haired auror strolled in through the doors, beelining to them.

“Tonks,” Percy looked relieved to see her. “Millicent, this is Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks, this is Millicent.”

“Hi,” Millicent gave a polite wave, and Tonks gave them both a suspicious look.

“Though you and Fleur were seeing each other?” Tonks hair turned a deeper red.

“Eww, I’m fifteen!” Millicent shuddered. “No offence Percy.”

“None taken,” he sighed. “I am seeing Fleur, I’m treating Millicent though, she’s just handed in the last of her coursework and has nothing left but exams.”

Tonks relaxed, bodging him over so she could sit in the booth too. “Oh that’s alright then.”

“Coming here would be completely stupid if he was having an affair,” Millicent pointed out. “And Percy’s not stupid.”

“Thanks, Millicent,” he gave her a half-hearted glare.

“Even if he could do better, she’s clearly got a fetish. Just don’t introduce her to the twins.”

Tonk’s snorted as Percy upped it to a full glare. “Two for the price of one,” Millicent smiled sweetly.

“Can we not discuss my private life?” Percy asked hopelessly.

“Tonk’s brought it up,” Millicent shrugged. “I was just helping you out, so she didn’t think you were a cad about town.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever or will ever consider me to be a cad about town,” he said, finishing off the last of his tea. “Patrolling or just causing a nuisance?”

“Patrolling,” Tonks grinned. “Causing a nuisance is just a happy side effect, Kingsley needed to buy some flowers and I spotted you in the window and had to say hello.”

“Flowers?” Millicent didn’t know who Kingsley was but Molly probably would, and Molly liked gossip.

“It’s his mum’s birthday,” Tonks grinned, well not as exciting, although Molly might like to know so she could send a card. Millicent would try to make a note of it so she could do so. There were times in her life when she wondered when she’d turned into a little old lady. This happened to be one of them. “So how do you know each other?”

“He taught me how to do essays when I was a first year, and he’s been helping me with my exam prep, OWLs this year, and I’m doing my GCSE’s as well,” Millicent answered before Percy could.

“Aww Percy!” Tonks pinched his cheeks as he smacked her hands away. “Looking after ickle firsties.”

“Tonks,” a beautiful tall black man stuck his head in through the door and Millicent felt her heart stutter.

“Babies?” Millicent blurted, cringing as Tonks stared at her in delight.

“I’m too old, but Kingsley isn’t,” Percy rolled his eyes.

“You’re like, well you,” Millicent waved her hand at him. “Do you think he’d mind if I asked for an autograph?”

“Millicent,” Percy sighed. “He’s Snape’s age.”

“Mopsy would consider that fine,” Millicent bit her lip. “I don’t think I ever understood why men were called beautiful until now.”

“Thank you,” Kingsley grinned, white teeth shining. “Tonks, we need to patrol.”

“Bye!” Millicent called as they made their escape, Percy giving her a look.

Chapter Text

She’d only just sat at the table with Ginny when Blaise placed three packages down. “One’s for Fiona.”

“Fiona?” Millicent stared at him blankly, Ginny looked just as confused.

“Fiona,” he hissed, looking directly at the Hufflepuff table.

“Oh, Fiona,” Millicent nodded. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out,” he glared at her, Ginny already ripping into the pretty pearlescent paper.

“OH!” She squealed and Millicent peered across the table to where a large pearl glistened.

“Mother has offered to replace it if you like it and run out,” Blaise looked uncomfortable. “For all three of you.”

“It must cost a fortune,” Millicent inspected hers, gently undoing the paper, which almost felt of pearl. Her fingertips shimmered as she pulled them away. She resisted the urge to swipe it clean on his cheek.

He shrugged. “You need to give Fiona one.”

“Or you could, as it’s your gift,” Ginny pointed out.

“You’re closer.”

“Aww, has Blaise got a crush?” Millicent grinned, running a finger around the pearl and flicking what looked like a gold catch. She suspected it might be considering how real it all felt.

“No,” he glared at her. “I don’t have a crush.”

“Is it love? Are you in love with Fiona? A secret yearning love? A secret yearning love where you’re going to court her using expensive gifts to make her look even prettier than she already does?” Millicent cooed, accepting the boot in her leg with nothing more than a smirk.

“I don’t - look, I mentioned to Mother that we’d had a conversation about the benefits of Mother of Pearl over Escargot, and she found a surplus that she was considering donating to the poor house, and I thought of you,” Blaise glared at her.

“I can see why you thought of us,” Millicent blew him a kiss, if he glared any harder the table might catch fire. “Fiona!”

Fiona spun around on the bench and waved. “Morning, did you all have a nice hol?”

“We did, well, some of us better than others, did you?” Millicent asked politely, jamming her hand onto Blaise’s leg to keep him seated as he started to try and escape.

“Great thanks, went to the beach with my sister, she’s just had her second child,” Fiona pulled a moving photo out of her pocket, and passed it over. “Isn’t she lovely.”

Ginny made an appropriate noise before passing it over, and Blaise radiated heat as he caught sight of Fiona wearing a swim suit holding a toddler while her sister bounced a baby. “She is so cute, isn’t she Blaise.” Millicent made sure to dig her fingers in.

“Yes,” he yelped.

“Blaise got you something,” Millicent cooed. “Didn’t you, Blaise.”

“For all three of you,” he mumbled, cheeks still glowing. “I mentioned to my mother about the Mother of Pearl and if you like it, she can replace it when it runs out.”

“Not mentioning the poor house, strange that,” Millicent murmured, passing the photo and Fiona’s package over to Ginny to hand to Fiona.

“This is too much!” Fiona gasped as she opened it. “This is real Mother of Pearl, its worth more than caviar!”

“It’s fine,” Blaise mumbled, trying to sink into his seat.

“And it has a gorgeous necklace,” Fiona pulled a delicate chain with a small pearl droplet. “It’s stunning, you must let me write to your Mother to thank her. This is too much.”

“A necklace too, well,” Millicent grinned as Ginny winked at Blaise. “Do you need a hand putting it on? Blaise has very steady hands.”

“Would you mind? The clasp looks so delicate, I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

Watching Blaise make his way around the table to very carefully do the clasp for Fiona while doing his very best not to touch her, had Ginny and Millicent in stitches, silent stitches. Davies shifted down into his seat.

“Is he finally making his move?” she whispered.

“No,” Millicent snickered. “He’s pretending that it's from his mother.”

“It was from my mother,” he hissed at them after Fiona sat back down, gossiping with her friends as they admired her gifts.

“Yes, your mother picked a pearl necklace for a random girl she’s never met before,” Millicent cooed at him.

“Pass my plate over,” he tried to change the topic, sitting next to Ginny rather than shift Davies out of his seat.

“Did you get any jewellery, Gin?” Millicent asked sweetly.

“I checked, but no jewellery for me, probably a good thing because Dean could take Blaise in a fight any day,” Ginny blew a kiss to her boyfriend who made a show of catching it and sticking it in his pocket.

“Gag, honestly,” Millicent retched.

“I’m trying to eat, and I would win against Thomas,” Blaise half-heartedly glared at Ginny.

“I mean,” Millicent pulled a face. “You could beat Malfoy, I’ll give you that. But beating our lot is harder because we don’t just rely on magic.”

“You mean you don’t,” Davies snorted before pretending she’d not spoken.

“Why should I?” Millicent asked. “So far all of the fights I’ve had, I won, and I didn’t touch my wand once. In a fight between me and Blaise, he’d be on the floor in a bloody mess before he got a hit on me.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Blaise glared at her. “You’re my attack dog, you aren’t supposed to be attacking me.”

“I think you’ll find, you’re my bitch,” Millicent winked at him.

“Mutually beneficial arrangement,” he conceded.

“Still doesn’t take away the fact in a fair fight, I could kill you,” Millicent winked at him.

“Why are we friends?” he asked.

“Because we both know when it comes to killing anyone, I’m the most likely to kill Malfoy,” Millicent blew him a kiss.

“Milly, he’s practically engaged,” Ginny snickered.

“Sorry, I should apologise to Fiona, for making moves on her man,” Millicent grinned.

“Can you stop? I don’t have anything going on with Fiona,” Blaise pushed his plate away having hardly eaten anything.

“You want to though.” The other two girls made noises in agreement.

“You do,” Nott shifted down the table, ignoring Blaise’s middle finger. “You turned down a date with that Beauxbaxton’s girl last week, and she was really into you.”

“He did, he said he was already taken,” Davies agreed.

“I’m being attacked,” Blaise glared at them.

“Aww, poor baby,” Millicent cooed. “You know you didn’t have to get us stuff if you just wanted to give it to Fiona.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ginny grinned. “I’m happy to benefit.”

“Look, it’s nothing, really,” Blaise gave a half-hearted shrug. “Mother has a stake in the business, she got it as a gift. Tracey, if you want some I can get you some.”

“I have a crystal clear complexion, thank you,” Davies posed her face. “If your mother has a stake in luxury chocolate, I would love some.”

“Please,” Ginny gave heart eyes, and Millicent shrugged.

“We have so much chocolate left from Easter,” she answered the questioning look.

“Oh, eggs?” Davies asked.

“So many eggs,” Millicent turned a bit green at the thought of them all. “Although, I might bring some of my share to Muggle club this week as a bit of a pick me up for having to be back here.”

“Or you could bring some to the common room,” Davies looked a little more interested.

“Get stuffed! As if I would let Malfoy get any, I don’t think so. Nah, you can join Muggle Club and enjoy the benefits,” Millicent stretched, letting her back crack. “We’re looking for another club leader.”

“Dean didn’t say,” Ginny frowned.

“That’s because he says you zone out when he starts talking about it,” Millicent blew her a kiss.

“He repeats a lot,” Ginny shrugged.

“He’s too enthusiastic, I think he’s planning on being a teacher after this, and if that doesn’t tell you something wrong is going on up there, I don’t know what will. Still, he’s better than Harry. That said, lots of people are, speccy little git,” Millicent rolled her eyes Harry waved his arms around talking to Ron and Granger. What he had to say when he’d spent all holiday’s with Ron at any rate, she had no idea.

“Blaise could be a leader,” Ginny winked at him.

“I think not,” Blaise dismissed it immediately.

“Just think of all the benefits there are for doing it,” Millicent lied.

“I bet Fiona would join,” Ginny cackled as he glanced at Fiona’s back. “Shall we ask?”

“I heard my name,” Fiona turned to face them.

“We’re having the first meeting of the term tonight for what was formerly known as Yo Yo club, but is now going to be known as Muggle Club. There will still be Yo Yo related things happening, but we’ve got music, board games, someone said they’d brought in a load of magazines,” Millicent mentioned. “We thought you might like to come along.”

“Sounds good, a few of the girls went and said it was a lot of fun,” Fiona smiled at them.

“See you there,” Millicent grinned at Blaise who was not looking at any of them.

She got collared by Dean at lunch, and they flagged Lupin down as he started to leave.

“We need to have electricity in the group room,” Millicent told Lupin.

“I’ll talk to the Headmaster about arranging it for next week,” he promised.

“We need it for tonight,” Dean said before Millicent could. “We’ve got music to play, and next week we’re going to need the TV and Video player too. We should probably keep it considering it never gets used in Muggle Studies.”

“He’s right,” Millicent backed him up. “It’s wasted there. And we might need a bigger room.”

“Before this evening?” Lupin said dryly.

“Yes,” they both answered.

“Also, I might have someone else interested in joining in to help run it,” Millicent grinned. “He’s pureblood though.”

“Zabini?” Dean scowled.

“He just gave Ginny a gift so he could gift the girl he actually likes a nice present, put the green goggles away Romeo,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Anyway, he hasn’t said yes, but he will, he’s just as whipped as the rest of -“

Lupin held his hand up. “It’s time for class. I will attempt to arrange access to electricity, and speak to the relevant parties.”

“Sir,” Millicent said, dragging Dean away before he pushed it.

“I don’t want Zabini involved.”

“I do.”

“It’s not just your club,” Dean snapped.

“No, it’s the schools. If Blaise gets involved then we have a Pureblood onboard. Other than George and a couple of the other seventh years, it’s only halfs and muggleborns. We need to future-proof it,” Millicent explained in a rare moment of magnanimity. “Blaise has almost as much weight behind him as Malfoy thanks to his mother. And we’re friends. I want to invite him to the study room, but I need to trust him first.”

Dean stopped, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you already know,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Ginny told me she’d spilt the beans over Easter.”

“It’s a bit odd, yeah,” he looked a bit disturbed by it all.

“A bit, the adults all seem to think it’s fine,” Millicent pulled a bit of a face. “She told you about Snape too?”

“Snape?”

“I’ll tell you later, or you can get Ginny too. Lupin knows too. So does Harry, just don’t talk about it in public, yeah?” Millicent gave him a look.

“You won’t make me take one of those stupid vows Granger was on about?”

“No, because I know if you spill, not only Ginny will have your bollocks, but I’ll make you regret every single bad decision you’ve ever made, slowly, publicly and with the most amount of humiliation I can manage until you beg me to kill you,” she smiled sweetly.

“Can I not just take Granger’s vow?” He gave her the side eye.

“No, I like things the old-fashioned way,” Millicent patted him on the arm, walking into class with a gleeful grin.

“What’s got you so happy?” Blaise whispered as she sat next to him.

“I got to promise retribution.”

“Fair enough,” Blaise shrugged.

Gilly’s cd player appeared in the room shortly after they’d arrived, with Mopsy popping in and out with cds, chocolate and games.

“Sir, did you manage it?” Dean asked, starting to sort through the piles of games.

“In the four hours since you asked me?” Lupin retorted. “Next week.”

“Next week?”

“Yes, next week. If we don’t need to move rooms again.”

“But-“

“Mr Thomas,” Lupin warned.

“It’s alright, Gilly gave us some batteries for it,” Millicent stepped in before Dean pushed it too far.

“Make sure the music is age appropriate,” Lupin eyed the pile of music. “I don’t think parents will be pleased to hear the first and second years are listening to explicit lyrics.”

“Nothing with a parental sticker will be played unless the younglings are gone,” Millicent promised, moving the Fugees cd to the bottom of the pile, she might steal it at the end to listen to it in their study room. Gilly promised it would change her world, and she believed in Gilly’s taste. How could she not after they’d gone to the gig.

Lupin took his place at the desk in the corner, pulling out piles of papers that he really should’ve gotten marked over the break. Millicent wanted to tattle to Snape on him, mainly because she was pretty sure he was marking their work. Which meant he was so far behind.

Dennis was the first to turn up, perching on a desk to show off his newest yo yo, a lightup one that made noises when it hovered, and if Millicent was a couple of years younger she would’ve been jealous. He was still shit at the around-the-head trick, not quite smacking himself in the face, but only just.

“Get better.”

“I practiced lots,” he groaned. “I just can’t get the wrist action right. Can you show me?”

She showed him slowly, exaggerating the wrist motion without a yo yo attached, for him to balls it up again. “Maybe you should do it for me?”

“I can’t do it for you, either learn or pick something else,” she flicked his forehead.

“I mean, move my wrist for me?”

“How’s that going to help?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like my hand is attached to your arm.”

“Please?” he tried to do his best puppy dogs eyes.

“If you haven’t managed it by the end, then we can see,” she muttered, ignoring how he lit up. “Make sure you don’t hurt anyone while you practice either.”

“I wouldn’t.” Dennis promised.

There was a toss up between a Now That’s What I Call Music 29 and Hits 95 to start off, with Dean turning the volume down after it turned out the volume had been turned up to max.

More and more people trickled in, giggling, chatting and catching up as the start time approached. A couple of that’s my favourite song, several squeals about music being played at all, and more than one gasp at the pile of smashed eggs in bowls to be shared out, Lupin having taken one as Teacher tax right at the very beginning.

Blaise slunk into the room accompanied by Davies and Nott, both of whom beelined to the chocolate, leaving Blaise to be greeted to his dismay by George and Dennis. Millicent spotted it from a distance, enjoying the look of terror as she helped a first year group rebalance their yo yos.

“He came,” Dean muttered, transfiguring a new yo yo after one shattered against the wall.

“I told you,” she grinned.

She got caught up in the chatter of the young and innocent, that she completely missed Fiona entering with Gilly and Mary.

She didn’t miss the hug and hair ruffle from the engaged couple, nor an argument about skipping a song because it was lame. Which Dean was not getting involved in.

“There will be no skipping songs,” Millicent extracted herself from a fourth year learning how to transfigure their own yo yo to step in after no one else bothered to.

“It’s crap.”

“It’s almost over,” Millicent glared at the sixth year Ravenclaw. “Don’t like it, tough. We don’t need to have music playing, it’s a privilege, not a right. So buck your ideas up and get over it.”

The lad gave her a belligerent look, one she returned, even popping her hands on her waist. “I’ll bring a better cd in next week.”

“You do that, but it has to be age appropriate.” Millicent stared at him. “And you can’t whinge if no one else likes it.”

“They won’t even have heard of the band, it’s indie music,” he pulled a face.

“Great. Don’t care. I will care however if you ruin this for everyone else. So wind your neck in, and be better. I expect this from the stupid house,” Millicent started to tap her foot, staring at him until he slunk off to join his friends at the back.

George sidled up after with a smirk. “You didn’t smack him.”

“Not worth the aggro,” she shrugged. “Lupin would’ve stepped in and I would’ve got in trouble. It’s a bit quick to get in trouble first day back.”

“Not the first time,” he snickered.

“Not as fast as Harry and Ron,” she grinned. “They didn’t even make it onto the train and got in trouble. I bet you were jealous of that record.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing her off to go talk to Blaise, taking her place of helping transfigurations.

“Millicent,” Blaise looked miserable. Fiona was busy chatting with Gilly and some other senior Puffs.

“Blaise,” she sat on a desk, tossing him a yo yo. “You came.”

“Tracey wanted chocolate,” he shrugged.

“Because she doesn’t have access any other way,” Millicent nodded knowingly. “What do you think of the club.”

“It’s… loud,” he answered diplomatically. “I even know some of them.”

“We’ve had a few more come every week,” she shrugged. “We’ll have more next week. It’s getting a bit busy for two of us to keep an eye on.”

“Three, four if you count the Professor,” he gestured to George. “Five with Creevey the younger.”

“You can call him Dennis, you are practically best friends at this point,” she teased. “George doesn’t count, he’s gone at the end of the term. Lupin’s here to make sure I don’t kill everyone.”

“Fair,” Blaise gave a half grin. “You should get more diversity.”

“Maybe you could see if Fiona wants in, she’s got a year left, and a Puff,” Millicent waved at the girl, Blaise shifting as she did so.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked reluctantly.

“Other than you owe me for the Malfoy thing?” Millicent purred. “Do it, and I can start to trust you. Then you get information, and we all know how much you like information.”

“If it’s about you being a Weasley I already know,” he huffed.

She leaned in, her breath brushing his ear as she whispered, “I’m betrothed, and that’s just one of the secrets I’d be willing to share with a co-captain.”

She watched as the wheels turned. “George?”

“Now why would I be sharing information like that with an acquaintance?”

“You’re asking a lot.” He kept looking at George.

“Not much more than you’ve already done, you made that first step a while ago. You know that.”

“That’s a family matter, this would be announcing my position, my family's position,” he murmured, his lips barely moving.

“Do you want to be on their side, or mine?” she asked, waving at George who finally twigged onto the staring.

“Do they even know what your side is?” he sighed. “I’ll let Mother know.”

“Oh Blaise,” she slipped her arm through his. “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” he chuntered with some good humour. “You’ll need to do something about Malfoy.”

“Oh sweetheart, he’s going to be crushed into dust,” Millicent burst into almost hysterical giggles. “He just needs the rope to hang himself with. It shouldn’t take too long.”

They shared a delighted look, rocking up onto his toes to kiss her cheek before escorting her to George. “Congratulations.”

“Uh, thanks,” George accepted with a shrug.

“Show Blaise the ropes while I help Dennis,” Millicent slapped George on the shoulder, sauntering off to find Dennis who seemed to have mastered the movement until she got in range.

Chapter Text

Summer term as far as she could work out was proving to be a massive waste of time. Lessons had started to be purely focused on exams, and not a lot else. If not for Bill she’d be tearing people's heads off.

Millicent wouldn’t have claimed to have known Oliver Wood at all, other from the occasional cursing of his name in the common room. Meeting him to go and see a Green Day gig in London with Percy and Fleur had been an eye opener. This time she’d stayed with Bill, after Molly suggested that it would be safer if she didn’t wander off in busy places without him.

He was cute enough in his own way she could admit even if he was clearly not completely bright having been sorted into the bad house. Millicent sidled up to Percy when Fleur went with Bill and Oliver to get drinks during the interval between support acts.

“So, is he a good kisser?” She asked with feigned curiosity as Percy muttered under his breath.

“I wouldn’t know,” he pasted a placid expression on.

“Come off it. Bill admitted he’d had a sneaky snog with his dorm mates. It’s how we learn how to do it right,” Millicent winked at Bill who looked suspiciously at her from the bar.

“Not all of us learn that way,” Percy grouched. “Ollie’s not my type.”

“Audrey wasn’t my type, doesn’t mean we didn’t spend hours snogging,” Millicent grinned.

“I didn’t need to know that,” Percy gave her a stern look.

“It’s alright, Bill knows all about it, and so does Molly. She wanted to make sure I was alright, and that I didn’t need to feel like I was missing out with the whole contract thing,” Millicent grinned as Percy groaned. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Perrrrrcy,” Millicent whined.

“Ask George,” he flicked her nose. “I think Flint might know too, they’d come back looking a bit flustered.”

“Ew, he has terrible taste,” Millicent gagged. “Flint couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces.”

“He might’ve looked like a troll, it doesn’t mean he had the intelligence of one,” Percy gave her a look.

“I wouldn’t know, he wouldn’t talk to anyone who wasn’t male and pureblood. Classist bastard,” she shrugged. “Although isn’t Wood a halfie?”

Percy gave her another look. “Pure, if it matters.”

“Only to Flint,” she shrugged. “Although I’m impressed that he listens to Muggle music.”

“He’s got a part-time job in the record industry,” Percy announced casually. Millicent felt her mouth drop.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Percy looked smug, the prick.

“I love you so much,” she squeezed him tightly. “Do you think you could get me some work experience with him?”

“I thought you wanted to go into politics?”

“Fuck that, I would kill to be able to go to gigs all the time and get paid for it,” she chewed on her lip. “I mean I could do it part-time. You know, politics by day, music producer by night. And weekends will still be free to help Mopsy.”

“Everything alright?” Bill asked, handing over a pint to Percy, and a bottle of cider to Millicent.

“Yes, Percy was explaining how Oliver has a job in the music industry,” Millicent turned the full force of her attention to the Scottish lad.

“Part-time, my real job is with Puddlemere,” he clarified.

“No one cares about quidditch, music though, music is life,” she buzzed. “Percy said he’d ask about work experience, but I’ll cut out the middleman. Can I come and work with you during summer? Even if it’s just a day?”

“I can ask,” he shrugged.

“Molly wouldn’t mind?” Millicent checked with Bill.

“I’ll talk to her,” he promised, moving her to his other side as the main act came on stage, Percy falling into place on her free side, buffering Fleur between him and Oliver.

She hadn’t known a single song, but she enjoyed it all the same, and the signed album they’d managed to snag at the end, with a matching t-shirt that she immediately threw on. She even managed to get a gig poster by batting her lashes at Bill who rolled his eyes and discretely stuffed it into his coat after she pulled it off the wall as they were leaving.

It went up on the wall in her study room.

Blaise took the news that Snape was her legal guardian with more aplomb than he had about her betrothal.

“It makes sense, he’s done it before,” he shrugged. “Explains why you keep being dragged into meetings with him.”

“He likes to make sure I’m not causing trouble,” she shrugged. “I think the old cat does too. She’s always there. She can’t even keep her own house in order and thinks she can interfere with ours.”

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the betrothal bit. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know!” Millicent shrugged again, Mopsy had disappeared off to do something plant-related. She wasn’t asking. Especially after she’d smeared a bit of pearl dust on her cheek. Blaise promised to get more. They’d collectively decided not to wonder at the sight of Mopsy with shimmery cheeks. It was why she’d brought up the topic of Snape.

“Blame Ron,” Ginny added, sprawled out on a rug Molly had donated to them. It wasn’t as nice as the old cat’s, but still better than the one they’d had before.

“It just doesn’t add up,” Blaise frowned, and Millicent considered warning him about wrinkles.

“All the adults think it does,” Millicent shrugged once more, her shoulders getting quite the workout.

“It’s not like they are getting married,” George pointed out, with Dean wrinkling his nose at the thought. Harry was perched in the corner waiting for Ron to finish up in class, keeping relatively quiet.

“It’s true, I just get a fiancée for a few years and then I can go live in a commune with my very own cult,” Millicent winked at Ginny who burst into giggles.

“Creevey the younger being your most devoted follower,” Blaise snorted.

“We’ll use the yo yo as our holy symbol,” she agreed.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Blaise stared at George.

“Blame Ron,” Ginny repeated. “He’s the one who worked himself up into making his magic think he owed Milly everything.”

“I told him he didn’t,” Millicent pointed out. “Repeatedly. It’s called the house of the stupid for a reason.”

“It’s because of me,” Harry piped up. And Millicent choked back a laugh at his response.

“Well obviously, because you and Ron can’t do anything without the other,” Millicent said sweetly after she’d managed to regain control. “Still, it’s Ron’s overactive imagination that came into play.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Blaise started to pace around the room. “He didn’t sully your reputation. Or put you at risk.”

There was an awkward silence from George and Harry, and Millicent found herself staring at them with the others.

“Well…”

“My reputation is perfectly intact thank you.”

“Like you’d care if it wasn’t,” Ginny winked at her.

“True,” Millicent purred. “Like I give a shit about what any of the fuckers think about me.”

“He put you in danger,” Blaise narrowed his gaze.

“Aren’t we all being at this school?” It wasn’t like it Hogwarts was healthy for the average student.

“She’s not wrong,” Ginny mumbled resentfully, accepting the comforting hand from Dean.

“I didn’t help,” Harry added sheepishly.

“I don’t think you know how to,” Millicent snorted, before considering apologising as he winced.

“How much danger?” Blaise asked with an edge to his voice, watching Harry like a snake.

“More than if he’d not approached her,” George answered as Harry glanced his way.

“Thing is, all I did is tell one little lie,” Millicent pointed out. “Which didn’t need to be a lie if he’d actually used his brain.”

“A combination,” George settled back into his chair, stretching his legs out in false relaxation.

“I didn’t help,” Millicent admitted. “I spoke to Harry separately.”

“And we talked in the dorm,” Harry admitted.

“Ron decided to take all the responsibility,” George agreed.

“He said he knew what he was doing,” Harry looked a bit helpless.

“Ron never know’s what he’s doing,” Ginny scoffed, sitting up to let Dean settle beside her, wrapping her up in his arms.

“Yeah, Ron is an idiot,” Millicent agreed.

“He’s not,” Harry defended him.

“He wouldn’t talk to Ginny because she stole your place on the team, after you stepped down,” she countered. “He’d rather have no one take it, risking Malfoy winning. How is that not being an idiot.”

“How did it put Millicent in danger?” Blaise circled back.

“Because,” Harry looked sheepish.

“Because it’s all stupid?” Millicent checked.

“Because of Millicent intervening twice,” Harry stopped and looked at George who shrugged. “She stopped the last punishment, and then she gave me some advice which worked. Ron had promised to stop talking about her and he had vowed it, and then he didn’t and got all - it was a messy time.”

“Understatement,” Millicent muttered.

“Harry ended up in my dorm room,” she mentioned after a minute of silence. “That’s why I went home early.”

“They suspended you?” Blaise asked after another minute of awkward silence. She could see Dean whispering in Ginny’s ear who whispered something back.

“No. They let me go home early,” she shrugged. “Gran wasn’t happy with how things were being run, and it was decided it was for the best if I went home. Because Potter didn’t understand what leave me alone meant.”

“You and Potter?” Blaise squinted. “You tried to kill him.”

“Which is why I’m actually betrothed,” she pointed out as Harry winced again.

“I am sorry,” he looked helplessly at her.

“I know, and I said it was fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean I did almost kill you so we are square now.”

“If anyone’s going to kill me, I don’t mind if it’s you,” Harry grinned, George groaning dramatically, while Ginny gagged.

“I’m like fucking catnip to that house,” Millicent mourned. “Fucking Longbottom acknowledged me the other day. And Fred’s bit on the side.”

“I think it’s the other way round,” George pointed out.

“Wait - no - Potter. How much trouble is she in?”

“I don’t know,” Harry looked at George helplessly.

“If it helps, I think it’s more a combination of things,” Millicent helped. “But mainly blame the school.”

“That’s a given,” Blaise acknowledged. “They gave you an inch, and you’re on track to take the mile.”

“Exactly,” Millicent smirked. “If they didn’t want it to be my school then they should’ve punished me for half killing Dumble’s golden boy.”

Harry did a mini bow, to a round of snickering.

“Sorry, but there has to be something else going on,” Blaise redirected her again.

“Obviously,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Good luck trying to find out what it is though.”

“So you know?” He asked, glancing at George again for no reason she could work out.

“No. Look, Snape’s my legal guardian because at the time, when Gran was really ill in hospital, Mrs Weasley didn’t have the legality or something to do it for me officially. But because of Ron being stupid, she’s there for me unofficially. Except now I guess, if the government -“ She stopped when George shook his head minutely. Right. She trusted Blaise with her stuff, but Weasley stuff wasn’t hers to share.

“Anyway, if Ron hadn’t been such a prick it wouldn’t have happened. And it doesn’t have to mean anything, which is good, right? It’s just an extra layer of protection in case of stuff happening,” Millicent shrugged. “I kinda like it. I got to see Trainspotting, Oasis and we went to another gig. And I get to go home at the weekends. And in return I can’t marry anyone else until I’ve you know, graduated and stuff. It’s hardly difficult.”

“You shouldn’t tell anyone else,” Blaise said after a minute. “You shouldn’t have told anyone outside of the family.”

“I didn’t tell Harry and co,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“You told me,” he pointed out. “Not very Slytherin of you.”

“Come off it, you’ve already thrown your hat in,” Millicent winked at him. “You’re too far in to get out now.”

“It’s true,” George grinned with a dangerous glint.

“Milly trusts you,” Ginny shrugged. “Still, there are a lot of us. Percy got Umbridge out, and Charlie works with Dragons. We could make you disappear.”

Blaise gave her a half-smirk. “Almost a threat.”

“He knows the biggest threat is what I’ll do to him, if he decides to not cherish the trust I’ve placed,” Millicent smiled sweetly at him.

“Mate, ask for a Granger vow instead, it’ll be less painful if you break it,” Dean muttered, wincing as Ginny elbowed him.

“You will have to do something about Malfoy,” Blaise sighed. “And maybe trust Tracey and Theo. Not with the betrothal bit, but with this.”

“Maybe,” Millicent grinned. “If Nott actually talks to me.”

“He has a healthy sense of self-preservation,” Blaise pointed out. “And his family does have connections to Malfoy’s.”

“All the more reason for him to make the first step,” Millicent retorted. “He might be friendly with Davies and you, but he’d sell me out in a second if it saved his own skin, or got him out of detention.”

Blaise gave a half shrug and she accepted the win. “If he makes the first move, I’ll be gracious and welcoming towards him.”

George snorted. “Alright, I won’t torment him too much, and I’ll do my best not to involve him in demolishing Malfoy.”

“Or Tracey.” Blaise added.

“Or Davis.” She agreed.

“Alright,” he relaxed. “So this is where you’ve been hiding, it’s not terrible.”

“You should’ve seen it before the old bag demanded her rug back,” Millicent grinned.

“It was a good rug,” Ginny agreed mournfully. “Very cosy.”

“I’ll talk to Mother and see if she’s got any lying about she doesn’t need anymore,” Blaise glanced around the room. “Maybe some art. Or tapestries.”

“It’s a study room,” Dean started to glare. Partly because he’d offered to get some posters and Ginny and Millicent had pulled faces when he’d mentioned it.

“It’s a common room by any other name,” Blaise challenged. “Study rooms don’t have half naked men on the door.”

“I told you he’s half naked,” Dean exploded.

“He’s a bit naked,” Harry agreed.

“He’s in costume.”

“He’s got clothes on!” Millicent and Ginny said at the same time, both sighing as they stared at their prized possession.

“He looks a bit familiar,” Blaise tilted his head.

“He’s an actor,” “The best actor,” “American, and so pretty in a manly way.” The girls talked over each other.

“I might have met him with Mother,” Blaise screwed his forehead up in deep thought.

“You’ve met him?” Ginny shrieked.

“He’s in that - what was it called?” Blaise frowned.

“Hook - he’s in Hook!” Millicent answered starting to glide forward ready to attack.

“Ah yes, I’m sure Mother has shares in some production,” Blaise smiled blandly. “I could probably talk to her.”

Ginny appeared next to Millicent, watching Blaise intently. “Your mother knows Dante?” Millicent asked hesitantly.

Blaise took a moment before winking at George. “No.”

“BLAISE!” they both shrieked at him, chasing him as he darted behind George, the lads laughing.

“Merlin was that easy,” Blaise snorted, ducking out of the way as Ginny fired off a hex at him.

“Just wait Zabini, just you wait,” Millicent promised him, cracking her knuckles.

“It’s not my fault you decided to be a Hufflepuff and believe me,” he dived out of the way of another hex to take cover behind Dean who looked reluctantly impressed.

“We had a moment of trust,” Millicent growled.

“Think of it as me trusting you to not kill me over a joke,” he countered, shielding himself after Dean stepped out of the way.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Still, just you wait.”

Chapter Text

After Lupin came through and managed to get electricity into the Muggle Club room, life seemed to start going a little better. They had Millicent’s recording of Top of the Pop’s playing while board games, gossiping and most importantly yo yo tricks happened. The group had expanded again, to the point where they were seriously considering moving rooms.

Lupin was taking the request that the room be available during the rest of the week for people to meet up in, back to Dumbles and Co, after they’d had an impromptu discussion at the end of club. As far as Millicent could tell, the only reason why it wouldn’t be allowed would be the supervision aspect, but as half the clubs didn’t seem to be supervised anyway… Still, she had some qualms about things being broken accidentally or maliciously.

While Muggle Club was going well, Cross Country had been invaded. By redheads. Of the twin variety. And not just the official runs. Oh no, suddenly George was there in the mornings as well. In fact, it was as if she couldn’t go anywhere without tripping over George at the moment. And he kept badly flirting with Mary and Gilly. As if.

“I don’t want them to stop being lesbians,” George laughed as she threatened to castrate him if he didn’t stop. “It’s harmless flirting. They seem to enjoy it. Trust me, both of them can protect themselves.”

Something Millicent couldn’t argue with but still, it was bloody annoying.

“He’s harmless,” Gilly ruffled her hair after she’d promised to throw him off the tower for them.

“He’s a menace,” Millicent grumbled.

“He’s offered to be a donor for us,” Mary beamed at Gilly, the pair holding hands. All that was missing was the butterflies and birds to be truly sickeningly sweet. “If we want him to.”

“They’d be ugly babies,” Millicent pulled a face. “Ask someone better. Like - I know this gorgeous man, well I don’t know him, but I’ve met him. He’d give you the most beautiful babies.”

“Babies are ugly,” Gilly grinned. “But they grow into little charmers, and George isn’t objectively terrible looking.”

Millicent gagged, and the three giggled. And then they made her run twice as far as normal.

Mopsy, Mopsy was up to something. She’d squealed when Millicent gave her the compact of shimmery pearlescent dust Blaise managed to get.

“Miss Millicent be needing an owl,” Mopsy stared at her.

“I really don’t,” Millicent stared back. “Why do you need an owl?”

“Mopsy not be needing an owl,” Mopsy blinked innocently.

“The school ones are fine,” Millicent blinked back.

“Mopsy be thinking Miss Millicent be needing one, now that Miss Millicent be almost married,” Mopsy stroked her ears, her feet fidgeting. Millicent didn’t buy it for a minute.

“Molly has an owl,” Millicent countered.

“Miss Millicent needs her own,” Mopsy let her eyes fill with water.

“I really don’t,” Millicent stayed firm. “We can’t afford one.”

“Miss Millicent be having money still, Mopsy be knowing,” Mopsy’s lip trembled.

“Which I’m saving for getting my school stuff come summer,” Millicent pulled out her book and opened it. “If you want to tell me why you need an owl, I’ll listen.”

Mopsy stood for a good few minutes, stroking her ears and letting tears fall, before flopping onto Millicent’s bed. “Ready to talk?”

“Miss Millicent is mean,” Mopsy pouted.

“There are a lot of people who would agree with you,” she agreed.

“Mopsy could be telling Mr William,” Mopsy sulked.

“He knows I’m mean,” Millicent winked at her, snickering as Mopsy flashed a grin. “So what’s up.”

“Mopsy,” Mopsy rolled onto her back, looking remarkably like Ginny in one of her contemplative sulking sessions.

Millicent started to read while Mopsy collected herself. She’d read it before, but between revision and everything else, she needed the comfort of the known.

“Mopsy has been writing about plants,” Mopsy kicked her heels against the bedspread.

“I did notice you’ve been busy,” Millicent hummed.

“Sometimes school owls are not there when Mopsy be needing them,” Mopsy sulked.

“Can you not wait?”

“Miss Millicent! Mopsy is doing important things to make sure Miss Millicent isn’t a laughing stock of village, and that Miss Molly isn’t ashamed of Mopsy’s efforts,” Mopsy sounded appalled.

“Pretty sure I’ve mentioned before no one cares about the flower competition,” Millicent patted her hand. “And I really don’t think Molly would be ashamed of you, unless of course, you were doing something you really shouldn’t be. Are you?”

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy gasped.

“Come off it,” Millicent grinned at her. “If you are, then if you tell me we can do damage control so Snape doesn’t actually blow up this time.”

“Mopsy is a good elf!” Millicent pulled a face. “Mopsy is!”

“You are the best elf for me, that doesn’t mean you are good,” Millicent clarified. “Honestly, just tell me and then I’ll get Bill involved and between us we’ll make sure it doesn’t turn into a huge drama.”

“Mopsy is hurt,” Mopsy wailed.

“You really aren’t,” Millicent carried on reading.

“Mopsy is only sending letters!”

“I believe you are sending letters,” Millicent hummed, turning the page.

“When did Mopsy lose Miss Millicent’s trust?” Mopsy continued to wail. Miss Oliviette gave up trying to sleep on Millicent’s bed, and relocated to Mopsy’s with a disgruntled growl.

“I do trust you,” Millicent didn’t look up from her book. “It’s why I’m asking.”

“Miss Millicent be mistaken,” Mopsy miraculously stopped wailing, and instead became more stubborn.

“Mopsy,” Millicent gave her a look over the top of the book.

“Miss Millicent!”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Millicent returned her gaze back to the page.

“Mopsy not be up to anything,” Mopsy didn’t sound as sure as she had before.

“Would Snape, Molly, Percy, the old bag, or Bill think the same?” Millicent asked lightly.

“How is Mopsy supposed to know?” Mopsy pouted.

“You aren’t stupid,” Millicent grinned at the gasp. “I would love to go a term without being dragged through the coals over something we’ve done.”

“We?” Mopsy asked tremulously.

“Well, we are a we,” Millicent slid the bookmark into place, putting the book back under her pillow. “We’re bound together. Troublemakers forever.”

“Mopsy be bound to Miss Millicent,” Mopsy’s touching of her ears became more real.

“It works both ways,” Millicent held her arms open, and Mopsy launched into them. “But I need to know if I’m going to get into trouble again.”

“Mopsy not be doing anything bad,” Mopsy clung to her middle, with Millicent cuddling her carefully.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing?” She tried again.

“Mopsy be consulting experts,” Mopsy sniffled into her chest.

“Is that all?”

“And be borrowing equipment that Miss Millicent not be using,” Mopsy whispered.

“Like what?” Millicent got a sinking feeling. In part because she hadn’t a clue what Mopsy meant by equipment. It wasn’t her womb she was pretty sure. The Matron had promised that Millicent was currently imbibing the strongest birth control available, just in case. There were still days when Mopsy would pet Millicent’s middle when she thought Millicent wasn’t paying attention. Millicent wasn’t prepared to go through immaculate conception for Mopsy’s desires, no matter how bound they were.

“Like fertiliser,” Mopsy mumbled. “Students be allowed quota, and Miss Millicent not used more than a bit, so Mopsy be using it instead.”

“Just fertiliser?” Millicent considered how bad it could be and decided to accept relief as an acceptable response.

“And some cuttings,” Mopsy admitted.

“Dangerous ones?” Millicent hoped she’d not taken anything that would get them in real trouble.

“No! Miss Millicent be living in Muggle area!” Mopsy sounded aghast at the idea.

“You didn’t damage anything taking the cuttings?”

“Mopsy consulted experts to get cuttings,” Mopsy promised. “Plant feed. And I borrowed Miss Millicent’s tools.”

“Tools?”

“Miss Millicent’s herbology tools,” Mopsy confessed. “Miss Millicent never uses them, so Mopsy be using them.”

“That’s fine, you know you can use my things,” Millicent squeezed gently.

“Mopsy be needing Miss Millicent to take Herbology next year,” Mopsy stared at her. “Mopsy need to be winning.”

“I can’t promise,” Millicent sighed. “I’ve got a full load on anyway.”

“Mr Percy says Miss Millicent could take for fun,” Mopsy pouted.

“I don’t find it fun though,” Millicent was going to throttle Percy. She’d deliberately not mentioned it to Mopsy, and yet she’d still found out. Which meant he’d probably talked to Molly about it or Bill while Mopsy was about.

“Mopsy be needing you too,” Mopsy started to wobble her lip again.

“Work out how much it’s going to cost and I’ll see if I can get enough to buy things as well as my school supplies,” Millicent muttered. “I’m not agreeing to take a class so that you can win a competition only you care about.”

“Mopsy could help?” Mopsy offered.

“How?” Millicent asked dubiously.

“Mopsy could be working?” Mopsy sounded as dubious as Millicent did about the idea.

“Doing what?”

“Laundry?” They stared at each other.

“We’d need to talk to Snape, or Percy,” Millicent considered.

“Miss Millicent could still be getting an owl,” Mopsy pushed her luck.

“No.”

“Maybe if Miss Millicent talks to Professor, Miss Millicent be changing her mind.”

“Not going to happen,” Millicent warned, but she could see Mopsy didn’t believe her. “Look - is that it?”

“Mopsy be thinking so,” Mopsy hugged her again.

“What about what Mopsy be knowing?” Millicent hugged back.

“How would Mopsy not be thinking what Mopsy be knowing?”

“Mopsy,” Millicent warned.

“Mopsy be promising nothing else,” Mopsy nodded her head.

Millicent considered pushing it again, because there was definitely something else, but she didn’t have the energy to unravel Mopsy further. Still, there was one thing she was interested in.

“I do have one question I need to ask,” Millicent said carefully. “You’ve been looking particularly pretty recently. Wearing the most colourful of your items, and the makeup too is a nice touch.”

“Miss Millicent be thinking so?” Mopsy beamed. “Mopsy be considering using something for lips too but Miss Millicent not be having anything.”

“Sorry, we can get you some if you like,” Millicent offered. “I just wondered, what made you want to look even prettier than normal?”

“Oh, Mopsy just be happy,” Mopsy beamed.

“So, no special someone?”

“Miss Millicent is special,” Mopsy hugged her.

“Yes but you don’t get pretty for me,” Millicent hoped.

“Mopsy be just feeling good,” Mopsy said secretly.

“Do you want to come with me when I talk to Snape?” Millicent checked, deciding to leave the issue alone.

“Mopsy be thinking Professor not be liking Mopsy,” Mopsy said in a flash of awareness.

“We’ll involve Molly,” Millicent agreed. “He can’t be mean when Molly’s there.” Mopsy’s look of relief confirmed it.

“In the meantime, I’ll ask Harry if you can borrow his owl, he never writes to anyone,” Millicent offered.

“Miss Millicent is the best,” Mopsy chirped.

“I know,” she agreed.

“Oi, speccy git,” Millicent flagged him down as he headed in for lunch. “Sitting with us today.”

“You can just call me Harry,” he grinned at her.

“But then people will think we’re together, and that’s never going to happen,” Millicent winked, ignoring Blaise’s snort.

“I’ve got a question for you,” she waited until they’d filled their plates.

“Yes?” Harry didn’t have the sense he was born with.

“Don’t just agree,” Blaise scolded. “No wonder you’re constantly in trouble.”

“He’s not wrong,” Millicent agreed.

“Sorry - ask away,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’ve an owl right?”

“Yes,” Harry looked confused. “Hedwig.”

“She doesn’t do anything during term time, right?” Millicent checked.

“Not really,” he squirmed.

“Can Mopsy borrow her?” Millicent ignored his antics, and how Blaise dropped his fork, while Harry’s mouth dropped. “Well? Can she?”

“Sure? I guess?” Harry glanced at Blaise before meeting her gaze again. “Does she need to be introduced?”

“Why does Mopsy need access to an owl?” Blaise asked.

“She’s writing to experts,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “And apparently sometimes the school owls are busy. She wants me to get an owl, but fuck that. And then I thought, who has an owl he doesn’t use. And then I had a second thought, who has an owl he doesn’t use and I don’t utterly despise?”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned. “So I’m second choice.”

“More like fourth, Blaise was second. And then I thought he’d probably want something in return, down the line. Dennis was third, and I think he’d consider that to be me confirming we’re actually friends,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “I need to keep him on his toes.”

She ignored the lads exchanging more looks. “So yeah, fourth choice. I’ll tell Mopsy to expect you to take her later - if you’re coming to the study room?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed with an amiable grin.

“Let me guess, Malfoy was first,” Blaise commented.

“Fuck no, I’m not subjecting Mopsy to that toad. Ron was first. It would involve me talking to him, and I decided against it,” she snickered.

“What experts?” Blaise frowned.

“Plant ones I’m guessing,” Millicent shrugged. “She really wants to win the stupid village competition.”

The silence was palpable.

“You know the villages in bloom thing. Except ours doesn’t even get a “good job at trying” ribbon. But the church does a little one in the village for community pride or some rubbish. No one cares. Except now Mopsy knows about it, she’s on the warpath to win.”

Millicent scraped her plate clean. “So yeah, now she’s obsessed with it, and claims if she doesn’t win, then life as we know it is over.”

“I can talk to Mother about House Elves if you want?” Blaise suggested.

“Fuck off. There is nothing wrong with Mopsy!” Millicent glared at him, ignoring how Harry pulled a face.

“I would wager if we asked Professor Snape, he’d disagree,” Blaise carried on blithely.

Millicent decided to ignore that comment. “You’ve made it up the list, Harry.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do,” Blaise yawned.

“Prat,” Millicent sniffed.

Still, she did hold off on talking to Snape about Mopsy’s request to start working, choosing to write to Percy first.

“There’s nothing to say she can’t,” Percy looked unsure though as they sat at the dinner table, Gran snoozing in her chair.

“If you allow her to, then she can,” Bill pointed out. “She’s bound to you.”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy’s lip wobbled, stopping as she rolled her eyes in response.

“So we won’t get any trouble?” Millicent checked again.

“As long as there is no exposure, she should be fine,” Percy sounded a little more certain.

“Why do you want to?” Molly asked kindly.

“Mopsy be wanting to help Miss Millicent,” Mopsy beamed widely, and Millicent considered if that was entirely accurate.

“Milly dear, do you need money?” Molly frowned.

“No,” Millicent rushed to reassure her.

“Yes,” Mopsy answered, cringing as Millicent gave her a look.

“Milly?” Bill frowned.

“Mopsy wants me to have an owl, and I said I don’t need one. And that it’d be too expensive to get and keep,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “I have Miss Oliviette the Seventh, I don’t need another pet.”

“Miss Millicent be needing an owl to be a respectable Miss!” Mopsy insisted.

“No, you want me to have an owl so you don’t have to use the school one, and I got you access to Harry’s,” Millicent said dryly.

Mopsy’s eyes watered, and she could see Molly waver. Thankfully Arthur intervened. “She’s trying to manipulate you Mollywobbles.”

“Mopsy not be,” Mopsy cringed.

“Come off it,” Millicent tapped her gently on the nose. “She also wants gardening supplies, and I said if she tots up what she needs, I’ll get what I can after I’ve bought my school supplies before going back in September.”

Bill shook his head as Molly opened her mouth. “It’s covered.”

“I know, even doing work experience I can earn enough to cover it,” Millicent nodded. “I can normally earn enough in the first three weeks.”

“As your guardian, Severus is entitled to school funds to provide for your care for scholastic needs,” Bill explained. “Even if he wasn’t, I would be providing for them.”

“I can pay for myself,” she frowned.

“We know, you just don’t have to,” Molly smiled at her.

“But I can pay for myself,” Millicent repeated. “Gran agrees with me.”

Molly reached over to pat her gently on the hand. “It’s different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be for that,” Millicent stiffened.

“Mopsy be helping Miss Millicent,” Mopsy frowned, crowding into Millicent’s space.

“We don’t need your money,” Millicent stared hard at Bill.

“Alright,” he smiled placidly.

“I mean it,” Millicent warned.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I’m not lying. Just so we’re clear,” she insisted.

“We understand,” he agreed again.

“Alright. I’ll collect the laundry and return it at the weekends, and I’ll talk to Mr and Mrs Smith about how much Mopsy should be charging,” she chewed on her lip, not trusting herself to look at the Weasley’s. “And then I’ll talk to Snape about how to order Mopsy’s supplies.”

“If that’s what you want dear,” Molly cheerful tone had a forced ring to it.

“Mopsy?” Millicent checked.

“Miss Millicent is most wisest and cleverest,” Mopsy hugged her.

“I know,” Millicent lied.

She made the mistake of calling in on the Smith’s whilst the Vicar was visiting to discuss flower arrangements for church.

“I honestly don’t have time to come to church every Sunday,” Millicent explained patiently.

“You’d be wise to consider your priorities,” the Vicar preached.

“Exams are coming up,” she agreed. “I’ll be available come Summer. I’ll make an effort to make it then.”

He tutted, before going into a lecture about how the village was sadly lacking in devoted youth. That the number of youths in the village 5 days out of 7 was zero, didn’t seem to matter.

She even avoided offering to wash the Church laundry for free, even after he started hinting. Or Mr Smith saved her from pointing out that there was not a chance she’d do it considering she knew that the Church provided a cleaner who came twice a week to clean the vicarage. And she was pretty sure he had a very cushy job.

The Smith’s were more than happy to be Mopsy’s first customer, with Mr Hendry signing up to be her second. He even offered the use of his big industrial washing machine. What she hadn’t agreed upon was how much they’d pay. Mainly because she wasn’t sure how to charge for Mopsy’s time.

“It not be taking long,” Mopsy chirped. “Mopsy be using magic.”

“A couple of pounds a week?” Millicent checked carefully.

“Mopsy be happy!” Mopsy bounced on the spot. “Mopsy could be collecting too?”

“Probably would breach the whole secrecy thing,” Millicent mused as they lay in her dorm room. The weekend had quite unsettled the pair of them.

“Mopsy could just be taking?” Mopsy mused.

“Secrecy probably again,” Millicent scrunched her nose in thought. “I’ll collect on a Friday night and drop off on a Sunday afternoon before heading back here?”

“Mopsy be saving,” Mopsy suddenly sounded cautious. “If alright with Miss Millicent?”

“It’ll be your money,” Millicent shrugged. “You can do what you like with it. Unless Snape would disapprove. So don’t buy poisons to off him.”

“Mopsy promise not be buying poison to off Miss Millicent’s guardian,” Mopsy promised.

“Fair,” Millicent rolled over, tugging the blanket around her neck. “If you don’t have enough by the end of summer, let me know, and I can probably top it up.”

Mopsy hugged Millicent before scampering off to her own bed. “Miss Millicent be bestest any elf could ask for.”

“Mopsy is the best elf any one could ask for,” Millicent said with a yawn. “G’night Mopsy.”

“Good night, Miss Millicent, Mopsy not be letting the bed bugs bite.”

Chapter Text

A very suspicious meeting with Snape had Millicent slightly on edge. He’d not been overly keen on the idea of Mopsy being let loose on Muggle laundry, but the old cat couldn’t see the harm - proof that she was not suitable to touch Slytherin house at all. Snape at least understood why Millicent wasn’t keen on buying things they didn’t need.

For once, lunch was a distinctly Weasley free affair. Ginny was with her brothers discussing tactics with the rest of their team for the upcoming match, or something. Millicent hadn’t bothered to listen to the explanation. Neither had Blaise, as they hadn’t been talking to him.

Harry wouldn’t think to sit with them without being invited, and Millicent would never invite Harry to sit with them. Blaise could keep his opinions to himself on that front.

Blaise was busy making puppy eyes at Fiona who was sitting facing his direction. It was sickening. Which is why she didn’t overly complain when Dennis appeared with the survival instincts of a flobberworm, to perch next to Millicent in the usual Weasley spot.

“Colin’s going to do some school photos, for mum and dad, of us in uniform,” Dennis squeaked excitedly.

“I’ve got one of me in Primary,” Millicent hummed, trying to avoid looking up at the top table where Snape was glaring in Slytherin’s general direction. She was fairly sure she wasn’t the cause of it, but she hadn’t reached the grand old age of fifteen by pushing it.

“I could ask Colin to do one of you? For your Gran?” Dennis was practically vibrating, enough to make Davis frown at them.

“Just me?” Millicent checked, rolling her eyes at Davis.

“Colin wouldn’t mind doing more, for them that want it, for a cost, it’s not cheap developing everything, but I’m sure he’d do yours for free, as a thank you for looking out for me,” Dennis gabbled.

“I can pay for myself,” Millicent frowned back at Davis who mock gagged.

“You can do anything,” Dennis agreed, and Millicent turned her frown on him. “You like, girls, girls can do anything.”

She pulled a face and returned her attention to eating. “Can I show you the trick? I’ve gotten better?” His voice cracked.

“Actually better? Or am I going to get your Head of House glaring at me again?” Millicent groused.

“Actually better!” Dennis squeaked, his cheeks flushed as he pulled out his yo yo and stood back from the table. It was better, but not good enough.

“I told you it’s in the wrist, you need to flick it right, not too much, not to slow, and a bit of a spin. Also you will get me into trouble if you hit someone with it,” she hissed, glancing up at the top table. Snape was busy bitching at Lupin and Flitwick, and the Tabby was busy supping on milk in deep conversation with Dumbles. They were safe. From the teachers at any rate.

“Show me?” Dennis whined.

She held her hand open, and stood with her back turned to the teachers to do it quickly. “I’ll show you properly in club, but did you see what I did with my wrist?”

“You make it look so easy,” Dennis had bloody cow eyes.

“I practice,” Millicent sat back down quickly, she’d managed to get away with it, even if a couple of the younger students had flinched as the wooden toy whizzed out from her hand.

“I practice,” he pouted, looking idiotic.

“I practice, a lot,” she clarified. “Not ten minutes every now and again, I spent hours doing the same thing over and over again until I mastered it.”

“You’re amazing,” he hummed.

“You’re an idiot,” she tossed it back to him.

“Mudblood,” Malfoy lurched out of the gloom of inbreeding students, a sneer pasted over the greyish pallor. Starving shit vampire sprang to mind when she saw him. One who couldn't even catch rats.

“What?” Millicent challenged calmly. She was particularly proud of how calm her voice was. She’d snapped at Blaise for almost stepping on her foot earlier. And she almost liked Blaise.

“You heard me,” Malfoy looked ill. His eyes had the faintest hint of mania, and he’d lost weight. Exam fever had clearly caught him in it’s midst. Still, not an excuse to commit suicide.

“Would you like a moment to think about it, before you repeat it?” Millicent asked as pleasantly as she could. Snape would be extremely pleased with her de-escalation skills. She’d not even punched the frail ferret. “Or advise to which of us you were referring?”

“You. I was referring to you. Mudblood. You playing with mudblood toys. Soiling our hallowed table.” His brow looked sweatier than normal, and the House of Escargot had long lost the battle with his acne. Why half the girls fancied him was beyond her.

She risked a glance up to the top table and didn’t see anything to be overly worried about. They hadn’t noticed.

“Shall we prove it?” She purred, leaning forward with a gentle tap on the seat next to her.

She could’ve sworn he looked momentarily perplexed. Not terribly difficult as he had the brains of a jostled puffskein.

“Shall we prove if my blood has mud in it, compared to yours?” Millicent purred again. “If, by some miracle you are correct, I’ll proudly wear it as a name. I’ll shout it from the tower so all can hear.”

“Of course I’m right,” Malfoy spluttered, spittle landing on his tie. There was a space forming around them as most of her house decided to withdraw.

“And if you’re wrong, which I’m not going to lie, is likely… Then I get to take offence to that comment.” Millicent smiled, baring her teeth, her hand held out in front of her. “Deal?”

He shivered, his hand dainty as it reached out to hers. “Deal.”

She kept hold of it, reaching into her pocket for the Hendry heirloom, that she’d started keeping on her at all times, and not just to whittle into the desks in the cat’s class, flicking it up with a delicious snickt. She’d not been practising that little move either. It’d come naturally, after a few hours of playing with it. Sharp too, lovely sharp durable blade.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy all but whispered, trying to pull his hand away, only for Millicent to hold on tighter.

“We’re going to see if our blood has mud in it. Because that’s what you believe, and believers won’t stop believing without undeniable proof,” Millicent explained patiently.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Professor Snape sighed behind her. He was like a bloody cat with how quietly he’d approached. Or she’d not paid attention.

“Sir?” Millicent addressed him politely, not releasing Malfoy’s clammy hand for one second. “Malfoy wants to prove my blood has mud in it. If he can’t prove it, then I get to take offence to the comment. If he does by some celestial intervention, then I wear the word with pride.”

“Mr Malfoy?” Professor Snape snapped.

“Sir?” Malfoy’s voice broke.

“Is what Miss Bulstrode said correct?” It was clear to Millicent at any rate, that Snape was hoping that for once she was lying. Millicent delighted in being maliciously truthful at almost all times, so he should've known better.

“I’ll happily share the memory or take a potion to prove it, if the witnesses can’t quite remember,” Millicent offered overly helpfully, she could feel Malfoy’s pulse go thready under her grip.

“If you choose to take offence?” Snape asked exasperatedly.

“Well then… We could duel couldn’t we, Malfoy? You and me, and I’ll even let you choose when, and with whom,” Millicent continued to be helpful. “And in return, I’ll get to decide how far it goes.”

“Killing a student if frowned upon,” Snape said curtly. He could tell it to Dumbledore, he didn’t seem to care if any of them croaked it. “Mr Malfoy.”

“Sir?”

“Apologise. Now.”

“Oh no Sir, sorry but we have to prove it,” Millicent said firmly, rubbing her thumb over the exposed blade and dripping her blood over Malfoy’s trapped hand. “We shook on it. It’s a done deal. But look. What a surprise, no mud in this blood. Hmm. Curious. We should make sure yours is the same though, shouldn’t we Malfoy, to be fair.”

She ignored Snape to gently prise open the cold clammy hand, as Malfoy just sat, in shock, whilst she very gently ran the blade over his thumb, letting the blood well up before letting it fall into hers. “Well, what do you know? There is no mud there either. So I think, and forgive me for using slightly more scientific evidence than this school is used to, that the term mudblood is inaccurate. Haven’t we, Malfoy.”

He trembled silently beside her staring at their blood intermingling on his morguelike skin. “I mean, Dennis, do you want to check if you have mud for blood too? Just in case it’s only because I’m a girl that I don’t have mud in my blood?”

“Can do,” Dennis agreed cheerfully, thrusting his hand out, only to have it snatched by Snape.

“You’ve proved your point, Miss Bulstrode,” Snape said firmly, moving so she could see the hall watching with mixed fascination. It was something she was growing used to.

“Have I?” Millicent asked loudly. “Because Malfoy hasn’t answered. In fact, we could do a bigger sample size. I bet I could get, ooh, another few “mudbloods” to check. And we could check against purebloods. Gilly, you would, wouldn’t you? Get an older muddy, that way we can check it’s not an age thing. Maybe even some from all years. I can see Creevey senior, eager to share his.”

Several stood up, including Gilly who had a dangerous grin on her face. They mainly stood from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but a second year Slytherin stood, moving towards with a nervously determined expression.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape growled. “Mr Malfoy, will you speak, before the hall is filled with the blood of the students?”

“What’s wrong? Can’t comprehend that you might be wrong about something? Get used to it. And I do, if you have even the slightest bit of doubt. I do choose to be offended by your statement. Be glad that I don’t want my first kill to be on someone as pointless as you. Otherwise, I’d be taking all of your blood. So now you owe me, and I will collect,” Millicent promised. “So no more mudblood bullshit. Leave the genetically healthier students alone, it’s not their fault you’re lacking.”

She patted the seat next to her for the little second year, and Dennis scooted up to leave space. “Now if you didn’t already know, Monday evenings we have a Muggle Club. We watch Top of the Pops, play board games and practice cool tricks. And some of us are much better at it than others.”

She heard Snape exhale sharply behind her. “Sorry Sir, did you need me for something?”

“My office after lessons have finished.”

“Of course, Sir,” she agreed. “I don’t run it just by myself, Dean - who has terrible taste in music is a co-lead, as is Blaise who pretends he’s above it all. Dean’s from the stupid house, as is Dennis, but they manage to mainly overcome it.”

Dennis nodded happily.

Millicent winked at the second year, who looked nervously behind where Snape gave up, returning back to the top table.

“Dennis can be a bit of try hard, but he’s not bad. The trick is to not be obnoxious with it. Beat yourself, not other people. Because in the long run, you are the only one who’ll matter. In ten years time, it’s not going to be Simmons or Ross in your way. You won’t even remember who they are. It’s going to be you, and fighting yourself to be the best you can be,” Millicent spared half a glance at Blaise who had the faintest smirk on his face as Malfoy retreated to the other end of the table.

“I’m Rosie,” the second year held their hand out.

“Millicent,” she shook it gently, careful not to get blood over the dry and firm enough grip. “Nice handshake.”

“I’m Dennis,” Dennis shook Rosie’s hand happily. “Milly’s the best at yo yo tricks.”

“Too right I am,” Millicent stole it back off him. “You can do lots of damage with a yo yo, Dennis here gave himself a black eye. And what did I tell you about calling me that.”

Dennis apologised, lying through his back teeth. The conversation flowed easily enough, with Blaise radiating smugness by her side. Ginny appearing as they finally left the hall.

“Do I need to tell Bill?”

“Nah,” Millicent waved off the concern. “I’m going to stage a coup. Best if he doesn’t get involved.”

Blaise snorted merrily by her side, as they waltzed through the corridors, heads held high. Finally something other than preparing for History Newts for Millicent to focus on.

He offered to go to the meeting with Snape, but he hadn’t actually had anything to do with her plan, other than remind her she had to deal with him. She did get Mopsy to hide her penknife before they could confiscate it. She was surprised they hadn’t immediately, but she had rather railroaded them in front of the entire school, so…

Snape did a lot of pacing, half-sentences and sighing while McGonagall sat quietly in the corner marking papers.

“I promise I won’t kill him, unless he forced me to. And I promise to let you know before it gets to that stage, even if he practically dared me to kill him earlier,” Millicent repeated. “Frankly though, I don’t see what the problem is. It’s not like the Headmaster intervened.”

“Is your plan to be offended by everything?” Snape asked exasperatedly, finally sitting down behind his desk. She’d started to get a bit dizzy watching him pace so much.

“Well.” She didn’t want to lie directly.

“That’s a yes, Severus,” the catbag snarked, not looking up from her papers.

“The thing is,” Millicent leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out to cross her ankles, hands behind her head, she was just missing a cig in her mouth. Snape would probably flip the fuck out if she managed to produce one. She’d seen Mr Hendry do it to some Government worker, and liked the effect. “What I’ve come to realise is, that no one takes the opportunity to be offended, because of the power dynamic. So nothing happens. So Malfoy in this case, but everyone like Malfoy, they don’t learn anything except they can be disgusting and offensive and it doesn’t matter. So they can just get away with it.

“Malfoy won’t outright upset his allies, not that they would get upset anyway. Too much family money, too much family power. But see, I don’t have to be worried. I don’t rely on him scratching my back down the line. And we all know the only reason why I haven’t killed the little ferret now, is because I’d get in trouble.”

“Can we refrain from talking about murdering,” Snape glared.

“I said kill, not murder,” Millicent answered back, unrepentant. “I’m not saying it’s because of you and Bill either. Although, you versus Malfoy Senior, you’d wipe the floor with him. I bet Bill would too.”

Snape showed no signs of taking the compliment, but the tabby nodded slightly in the corner.

“What I’m saying is, he has no power over me. What’s he going to do? Stop me from getting a job in the wizarding world? Oh boohoo. Like I was going to get one anyway. I’m heading Muggleside the moment I can get away with it.

“He’s going to make my life a misery? How? The moment we step into a duel he’s down. He can’t fight for toffee, hasn’t got the guts, no creativity, no smarts. He relies on his Daddy far too much,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “He thinks he has power. And I’m not saying, that the ones who survive on the family connections, won’t fall into place when pushed. But he doesn’t over me. And if he wants to take me on, I will eat him for breakfast.”

Snape pursed his lips.

“And another thing. I’ve decided the half-blood and muggleborns are mine now. So I’m going to be offended every single time until he and everyone like him get it into their thick little skulls.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one of them,” Millicent grinned, baring her teeth. “Blame the Deputy, she’s the one who put me in charge of the club. So if you don’t mind Sir, I need to go hold court in the common room and make sure Rosie doesn’t cop a load of flack for making the stupidly brave stand.”

“I need to speak with Bill,” he warned.

“I plan on doing this all alone,” Millicent shrugged. “May I leave?”

He looked at her, before nodding, the cat looked positively cheerful. She wasn’t doing it for the cat.

Heading into the Common Room, with her shoulders back, posture straight, only just making it through the door without brushing the lintel, the room fell silent.

Which was fair, considering she barely spent any time there. That was the whole point of her own private study room. So she didn’t need to spend any time with her fellow idiots.

Rosie waved at her, and Millicent smiled, making her way over to the small group of none purebloods who’d clustered together for safety.

“Did you get in lots of trouble?” Rosie asked quietly, the low hum of conversation starting up again.

“None at all,” Millicent grinned. “I didn’t do anything wrong. He just wanted to ask what I was planning on doing next.”

Malfoy slunk closer as if she was blind and wouldn’t have spotted him. “So I just told him, that I’ve decided that all the half bloods and Muggleborns are now mine.” Millicent announced loudly with a grin. “Mine to take offence for.”

She turned to face the entire room. “Because it seems a little unfair, that they don’t have an actual champion. And I’ve nothing better to do with my time. And if almost killing Potter and getting away with it has taught me anything, it’s that, I like it. So I’m going to go out of my way, to take as much offence as I possibly can, and take as much blood as possible.” She sighed happily, cracking her knuckles casually. “If anyone has a problem with that, feel free to bring it to my attention.”

“Oh, and if it wasn’t obvious, this is a coup. And for the people who don’t know what that means, Malfoy’s not in power any more. I am. If you have a problem with it, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” she rolled her neck, easing the tension from having had to watch Snape pace. She was having the best day. Crabbe shifted on the spot, looking at Malfoy who just turned paler. “No one? I’m disappointed. Although we aren’t the house of the brave and stupid.”

She turned back to Rosie and smiled sweetly, “If anyone gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll sort it for you.” She paused, and quickly turned, shouting “Boo” and cackling as half the room jumped.

She pulled out her History text and settled down next to them, stretching her legs out, keeping half an eye on the room ready to be attacked, willing them to get up the courage to challenge her. They didn’t. Instead, the room cleared slowly, until there were only a few left.

“So how bad was it?” Blaise asked, casually, he still radiated malicious glee.

“He’s a pacer,” Millicent winked. “I’m going to be in heaps of trouble with Molly, and probably Gran.”

Blaise let out a slightly manic giggle. “The school isn’t going to do anything?”

“Well, he’s going to rat me out to the family,” Millicent grinned. “I don’t think the school can. Or not without opening up a can of worms. I gave him plenty of opportunity to back out, but he shook on it. Suicidal prick.”

“I’ll talk to Mother,” Blaise hummed happily.

“I better warn Percy,” Millicent giggled. “You knew we had to do something about Malfoy. I just let the inspiration take me on a magical trip.”

“I was hoping for another Potter moment, but this might be better,” Blaise shifted so he could stare at the ceiling, grinning. “Worried?”

“Of what? I’m already on any hit list for the crime of being born. Except, thanks to Harry being a fuck up, I know my rights. Malfoy owes me. Fair and square. If he’s not bright enough to back off when given the chance - and he had plenty, then it’s not my fault.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure I can get him into even more trouble without breaking a sweat. He’s going to end up owing me his first through eighth born if I keep it up,” Millicent preened. “The others all follow Malfoy. Just sheep. So they might attack, and I really hope they do, because then I can attack. The best defense if a good offense. Which is excellent news because I’ve discovered a new found passion for taking it.”

Blaise reached out and squeezed her hand. “You aren’t worried about what’s going to happen to them?”

She glanced over to Rosie. “Rosie was willing to let me cut her to show Malfoy that her blood isn’t muddy. She can look after herself,” Millicent wasn’t quiet, and the girl held her hand up proudly. “Mopsy’s going to be keeping an eye of them for me.”

“Mopsy be more than keeping an eye on, Mopsy be making sure Rosie is good girl,” Mopsy agreed, appearing with a happy bounce next to them. She had both shiny cheeks, and blue stain on her eyes, it made them both blink.

“What about weekends?” Blaise asked regaining his composure quicker than Millicent.

“Well, Co-lead,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“I hate you,” he fake scowled.

“I know,” she grinned.

“You know they’ll start talking,” he half groaned.

“Eh, you can just tell them I’m already attached,” Millicent stretched out, kicking his legs, ignoring the gasp from the girls. It had been the best day ever.

Chapter Text

It was far easier than it should’ve been, being the scariest Slytherin in school, besides Snape. Made even easier by the fact that Blaise was clearly shit stirring whilst she was at home on the weekends. One weekend in particular, she’d come back to a third year bursting into tears when they’d accidentally bumped into her coming around the corner. She hadn’t even been scowling, just her normal resting bitch face, apparently, it was too scary.

She really didn’t have to do a thing. Other than show her face every so often, and look menacingly at people now and again. It was bliss.

Malfoy looked even worse than normal, and his normal posse would find the furthest point from her at all times.

Mopsy had started using mascara, slightly blobby mascara with purple lipstick, pearl dust on her cheeks and perfume. Millicent didn’t have a clue where she got that from, but it was fragrant, very very floral. It reminded her a bit of Mrs Smith, minus the damp moth smell.

The Weasleys hadn’t mentioned Millicent’s toppling of the regime, so Millicent wasn’t going to mention it either. Not unless something happened that she needed to tell them about, like she’d killed someone. But as Millicent had promised Snape she’d give him the heads up, it was unlikely to happen.

Something else she wasn’t sharing with anyone, other than Mopsy, was the laundry thing. Millicent and Mopsy had started with the best intentions. Millicent walked up into the village and collected the two bags of washing from the Smiths, and then discovered a flaw with the plan. She didn’t, as such, have the hands for more than another couple of bags. Or not until she had access to a car, and as she wasn’t allowed to legally drive yet, well…

A knock on the doors and an instruction that if they left laundry in a bag just outside the porch, Mopsy would take it first thing in the morning before anyone woke up, so the secrecy act wouldn’t be broken. Millicent did, however, collect Joe’s. Mopsy was working a week in hand, with money being left with the next week’s load, with Millicent leaving her to it.

They did have one small problem though, which was easily solved by asking Joe to buy things for them. Millicent decided it was probably for the best that they didn’t share, quite how successful Mopsy’s Laundry Service had become. She was doing twenty houses, at £1 a bag. Millicent hadn’t asked how many bags per house she was doing, but she knew for sure that most houses had two or three. Joe told her not to worry when Millicent asked him about tax implications.

Which was all well and good, but, Timmy’s dad was in prison for tax evasion. Well, that’s what they got him for, not the drugs or guns. Daisy had terrible taste in men. Thankfully they hadn’t been married, or together that long when he got sent down, but everyone in the village knew. It wasn’t often anything like that happened, and to have it happened so close to home. Well, when Daisy started coming back, heavily pregnant, to reconnect with her roots…

Mopsy was unlikely to be dealing in weapons. Drugs on the other hand… Half the village grew weed, or if anyone asked, fruitless tomato plants. Old Man Farra used to have a polytunnel full of them, according to Joe anyway. Joe only had a small greenhouse.

It was fine though, because it was all medicinal, to help with the aches and pains. The Brady’s who owned the Stables next village over, got done for selling horse tranquilisers. So it could always be worse.

Still, Joe reassured Millicent that unless Mopsy started making the big money, HMRC wouldn’t be that interested. And it wouldn’t look odd him buying things cash in hand, even if it came in lots of pound coins.

She was in the middle of explaining to Dean and Blaise why she wasn’t going to be able to make the next two Muggle Club meetings when Mary dropped a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything alright?” Millicent checked. Mary never sat at the Slytherin table, and she was rarely without Gilly.

“Milly darling, we’ve got a date, we’re going to take you to get a dress, you’ve got a plus one obviously,” Mary was glowing with excitement. “The library has had a cancellation, we can’t wait.”

Millicent stood and gave her a tight hug, “That’s amazing. How’s Gilly taking it?”

“She’s still hyperventilating, they told us it would be next year, and she’s got a huge list of things that need to get done,” Mary laughed.

“Share it and I’ll help, bridesmaid’s duty and all that, and I can get some help as well,” Millicent promised hugging her again. “Let me know the date, and I’ll make sure my plus one can make it.”

Mary hugged her again, promising to catch up in the morning. Leaving her to the curious Blaise and the confused Dean.

“Exams, next two weeks,” Millicent carried on as if she’d not just gone completely off track.

“Wedding?” Blaise asked.

“Mary and Gilly, duh. Getting back to next week - it means you won’t have Top of the Pops - or I can probably get Mopsy to bring it if you want?” Millicent addressed Dean.

“Bridesmaid?” Blaise tilted his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “You’ll need to keep an eye on Dennis, he’s lethal at the moment, it’s like he can’t keep his mind on what he’s doing. Also - that sixth year - the really stroppy one. Stamp on them hard if they start up again. They haven’t been, but I don’t trust them not to see easy touches and do it again. You need to circulate, and make sure no one gets left out.”

“I do know how to run the club,” Dean scowled.

“Yeah, when I’m there, but I’m not going to be, so just do it, alright? And don’t rely on Lupin to do anything, he’s still miles behind on his marking even though we’ve not had any assignments recently,” Millicent huffed.

“I just can’t see you in a bridesmaid’s dress,” Blaise hummed.

“That’s convenient then,” Millicent huffed.

“Is anyone we know going?” Blaise looked fascinated.

“Blaise - you currently know as much information as I do. Do you really think they’ve organised the invitation list yet? They were supposed to be getting married next year, not this. Do you want me to tell Mary you’ll help organise?” She snapped.

“Mother knows’s a professional organiser,” Blaise mentioned.

“I doubt they’ll want to pay someone to do it,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Back to Muggle Club. If it was just the one week, it wouldn’t be too bad, but quite frankly I am concerned that you’ll ruin it. I’m going to ask Ginny to keep an eye on you, because George is as untrustworthy.”

“I’ll be there,” Davis offered with a gleam in her eye.

“And Davis will be,” Millicent agreed. “If you need to ask something, you can always send me an owl. Probably best if you do, or I can see what I’m down for next Monday, and if I finish in time I’ll pop back.”

“I’ll speak to Mother,” Blaise hummed. “She has interests in several bakeries and restaurants.”

“Blaise, do you want to talk to them?” Millicent felt like pulling her hair out.

“I’ll write to Mother,” he mused. “Fiona, would you like to join me on a walk to the owlry later?”

The Hufflepuff turned around as he called her name, and nodded with a faint pinkening of her cheeks.

“Fucking hell, it’s not your wedding,” Millicent hissed. “You don’t even know them.”

“I’m just helping,” Blaise waved it off.

“Fucks sake,” Millicent gave up.

The rumour mill on the other hand, hadn’t. While they might not have heard the conversation, the kiss on the cheek, and the hugging, caused a fair amount of gossiping. She was pretty sure she’d been called all sorts of homophobic slurs, nothing she could fully pinpoint, even if her smiles shut them up temporarily. Until someone was stupid to say it to her face, she’d have to be content using her threatening presence.

Gilly appeared at supper looking harried, thrusting a long list at her, ignoring George who was busy tormenting Blaise while Millicent nattered to Rosie and her friends. “Mary said you’d help?”

Millicent extracted herself from between George and Rosie, and stood up hugging Gilly in congratulations. “Of course I will. It’s wonderful news!”

Gilly squeezed back, prodding George to shift, as the pair of them sat back down, giving Millicent a wan smile. “Dad’s not happy.”

Millicent didn’t say anything, Gilly’s Dad didn’t approve of anything Gilly did. He wasn’t pleased his eldest child turned out to be a witch, even if he had married a squib who’d warned him it could happen. She couldn’t imagine the news that his eighteen-year-old daughter was going to be not legally married to another witch would go down like a cup of cold sick.

“Well, I’d say you could live with me, we could talk to Mopsy and get her to agree to turn the living room into a bedroom?” Millicent offered with a helpful shrug.

“Mary’s parents have offered too, but Mum’s already told me that if he says anything she’ll kick him out. She’s giving him until we graduate to sort himself out and if he doesn’t well he can go stuff himself, or something like,” Gilly suddenly smirked, nudging George. “Mum’s already knitting baby clothes.”

Millicent blinked, while around her there was a fascinating mix of responses. Blaise went still, George flushed with colour turning him even more carroty, and Rosie and her friends cooed.

“We’re at the brink of war,” Gilly didn’t seem to be bothered, ruffling Millicent’s hair as if she’d acted the fool, which Millicent hadn’t. “We’re not going to be wasting any time.”

Millicent stared hard at her.

“We can talk about it later,” Gilly promised, ruffling her hair again. “The dates at the top of the list, and Mum’s number so you can call her. Is that alright? I haven’t put everything on there, but what with you going home at weekends.”

“I’ll get Mopsy to help, maybe even Molly if she doesn’t mind,” Millicent gave George a suspicious look, who’d tried to go back to irritating Blaise but was failing as both boys were too engaged with Gilly. “Blaise also seems overly helpful.”

Gilly gave him a good-natured smile. “Fiona only says good things about you.”

“I don’t,” Millicent interjected, causing Gilly to grin. “So don’t start getting a big head.”

“Later, Chief Bridesmaid!” Gilly patted her on the back, heading off looking much happier to Mary who seemed to be holding court at Hufflepuff.

“Right girls, we have a wedding gift to sort,” Millicent turned to Rosie and the others, making sure to knock George as she did. “We’re going to make sure Hufflepuff wins the cup this year.”

“Bulstrode!” Nott glared at her.

“Like we were ever going to win,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Hufflepuff for house cup, best wedding gift we can give.”

“We can’t just give them it,” Blaise piped up, and George tried to sneak away, only for Millicent to pin him with a glare.

“We’re going to lose against them in Quidditch, and we’re going to stomp on Gryffindor, but not so Ginny gets hurt, and we’re going to make sure they don’t get caught getting in trouble and that everyone else does. They should’ve won last year, but surprise surprise didn’t,” she rolled her eyes at George who pulled a face. “In fact, 30 points to Hufflepuff for doing the respectable thing and getting married before having a baby.”

Blaise acted as if she’d personally betrayed him. “Really?”

“I can’t take or give more than 50 at any one point, and they might take away my privileges if I abuse it, but, until they do, we’re going to find reasons why they need them,” Millicent clapped her hands together. “And twenty points from Gryffindor and you know exactly why young man.”

“I’m older than you!” George squawked.

“And should know better. I think this is going to go swimmingly,” Millicent purred. “We should also club together to get them a more tangible gift, although I wonder if we can just give them the cup as a wedding present on the day. Or steal the points system altogether so Hufflepuff remains the last winner?”

George for a moment looked contemplative, before shaking his head. “No, I want to graduate too.”

“We’ll talk,” Millicent promised with a grin.

A quick check of the points to make sure it still worked, which it did, on her way to see Flitwick for Charms.

“Miss Bulstrode,” he cornered her as she went to leave. “You’ve expressed interest in continuing for NEWTs?”

“Yes Sir,” Millicent settled back into her seat. “Is there a problem? I’ve been speaking with Professor Snape and the Deputy Headmistress, they seem to believe I’m on track to meet the requirements for the NEWTs I’ve picked.”

“Not a problem at all, I have the reading list for you. It was more,” he paused and looked around the room furtively. “Our codes.”

“Sir?”

“Would you be interested in pursuing a hobby in codes?” He asked quietly as if they were being overheard.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Millicent answered honestly. “I know I still add them to my work, even though I don’t need to any more. I’ve been reading a lot of spy novels, and it’s just a bit of fun now.”

He considered her, before passing over a list of books. “If you wish to follow it, you will know what to do.”

“Yes Sir,” Millicent folded it and stuck it in her bag.

“Keep up the good work,” he waved her off, whistling to himself.

She wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see the code within the list, and half expected some of the books to have codes within them too. It was something to consider at any rate. A hobby, between Malfoy baiting, taking offense, and studying. A bit of code work. It might even come in handy, for sending messages to, well, she wasn’t sure who. There was probably a fanclub for it, or she could join MI6 and be the next M. She wouldn’t even need to change her name. And if she got bored next year she could start a student club. She’d only get the crafty ones too. Worth a consider at any rate.

The common room was scattered in clusters, all of whom looked at her as she entered and joined the middle table with her bag flung on the spare chair, and her legs sprawled out in front while she pulled out the coursework requirements for History NEWT to start drafting out a base plan.

She wasn’t surprised that Blaise appeared, with Nott sitting the other side of him. Davis sniffing as Nott sat down, forcing her to sit closer to Millicent. “Bulstrode.”

“Davis,” Millicent barely looked at her, frowning at the options for essays. She’d need to write to Percy to check why all four battles were from the same era, and not a mixture of different eras. They’d all end up being pretty similar, considering the reason they continued to go to war and fight was for the exact same reasons.

“Flitwick wanted you?” Blaise asked blandly.

“Wanted to check I was still planning on taking Charms next year,” Millicent answered, not looking up from the boring list. Surely there should be some difference. How could she write - wizards greedy and isolationist, goblins pushed to limit, differently at least three times. The same players were involved in all but one, and that was because in the fourth the main wizard had bloody died and left the war to his son to continue on in his name.

“What else are you taking?” He asked, still fairly bland.

“Working on getting a new bloody History professor,” Millicent groaned.

“They’ll never get rid of him,” Nott snorted. “They’ve been trying for decades.”

“He was teaching to an empty room when we walked in the other day,” Blaise groused. “If I didn’t need it...”

“Can’t your parents do something? Isn’t that the whole point of them, to force better education on the school?” Millicent glared at him.

“Mother’s Italian, no control. And my Father paid for my whole tuition before he died, so I have no choice in the matter,” Blaise didn’t flinch, or back down.

“Dad said if he had to suffer, so do I,” Nott muttered.

“I don’t take it,” Davis preened. “Not a pureblood either.”

Millicent sighed mournfully. “Well, I’ll have to rely on my secret weapon then, and see how that goes. I’ve more hope for getting a new History professor than a new headmaster.”

“I’m taking Herbology, Potions, and Runes,” Davis announced after they all left the comment about Dumbledore alone.

“Planning on going into pharmaceuticals?” Millicent asked with growing interest.

Davis glanced around and lowered her voice. “Mum works for a beauticians, she’s got her work to offer me an apprenticeship.”

“Runes, Transfigurations, Charms and Defence,” Nott offered.

“Potions, Charms, Transfigurations, History,” Blaise sighed. “Mother wants me to go into the antiquities business with her.”

Millicent chewed on her lip and passed over the History papers. “I’m trying to fast track History over the summer. And it was suggested that Herbology I could treat as a hobby NEWT. Potions, because I have to thanks to our Head. Runes, Arthimancy, Magical Creatures, Transfigurations or Charms. I like Flitwick, I hate the old bag. Charms is easier, but transfig is maybe more useful. I might do one, and then look at doing the other later on as a distance learning course. We’ll see.”

“Seven?” Blaise stared at her.

“No, six, I’m considering picking up Herbology just so I can learn stuff,” Millicent rolled her eyes, well, really Herbology would be for Mopsy but she might learn something new too.

“And five really if I can slog through History over the next four months,” Millicent pointed out.

“There’s no way,” Davis stated.

“If you say so,” Millicent grinned, duplicating the history papers and taking the original back. “You know we could take a bet on it.”

“No,” Blaise dismissed instantly. “There is nothing to be gained from betting on the outcome.”

“What if I’m wrong?” Millicent offered.

“If you thought for a moment you were, you wouldn’t be offering to bet on it,” he countered and she shrugged.

“Perhaps.”

“You could convince Malfoy,” he grinned slyly, the other two nodding.

“He’ll suspect instantly,” Millicent dismissed it immediately.

“He has a blind spot,” Nott mumbled, glancing around in case Malfoy lingered in the shadows.

“Well, he doesn’t exactly think, but he has been better since I made him bleed,” Millicent purred.

“He rants still,” Nott offered up for free. “In his dorm.”

“Could use him to help get rid of Binns,” Davies pondered quietly, and Millicent glared at Blaise.

“How were we supposed to know before now that was the plan?” Davis frowned.

“I didn’t say a thing,” Blaise held his hands up.

“Sounds like you did,” Millicent huffed.

“I would never betray your trust like that,” he said staring at her. She let her eyes meet his for a minute before shrugging.

“How long do you think it would take to spread a rumour Malfoy Senior doesn’t have the power to get rid of even a ghost at Hogwarts?” Millicent mused quietly, snickering as Davis choked in delight.

Chapter Text

Bill took her to her first exam and collected her at the end. Molly was with her for the next two, Percy came for two, and once with Fleur. While she appreciated the thought behind getting Fleur to escort her to the French Oral, well, Millicent still didn’t want to spend any time with the woman. She kept trying to kiss her on the cheek.

Arthur was with her for three exams, and then Molly, and finally for her last three exams, Bill kept her company. The last day was an absolute killer. Three exams, the first starting at 9, the second 12, and the third at 3pm as there had been a scheduling clash between the second and third.

Almost all of the exams had taken place with other students, in a large sports hall that had a particular smell she couldn’t unsmell. For her third, she was in a much smaller room with two others, and they’d not been allowed to do anything other than go to the toilet in between the last two exams. They’d even been escorted out through a different door and kept away from everyone until the exam finished.

Her hand was cramping, her back aching, and her head pounding. She hadn’t appreciated how social she’d been recently, because not being able to talk to her friends about things they knew about, was frustrating. Not that she was going to let them know. But she had missed them. A little bit. Not enough to actually head back to Muggle Club, instead she’d buckled down and spent the evening speaking French with Fleur and Percy. Prick could speak it fluently. She wasn’t sure what he was bad at other than picking women at this point.

Still, Bill taking her bowling after the last exam finished, with Oliver, Percy and Fleur helped a little. Smacking the ball into the pins - with a little bit of help from the bumper, was fun. Especially when they turned it into a disco, the overheads going down and the place lit up with lasers. The greasy food, combined with a few alco-pops, had the stress falling away. She even convinced them to try laser tag, with them all doing terribly against a gang of girls on a night out. It was still fun, and they were invited to go out clubbing afterwards.

If Millicent hadn’t been yawning, she was pretty sure she could’ve convinced Bill into saying yes. As it was, Percy, Fleur and Oliver took them up on the offer, and appeared hungover for breakfast at Molly’s mid-morning.

There was something satisfying watching a rumpled Percy wince as Gran chattered about the latest on the soaps to Molly. A Molly who seemed to actually understand the plot, if the animated discussion was to go by. Oliver barely opened his eyes, but Fleur managed to look perfectly presented clothing wise. Her face on the other hand. A small, malicious part of Millicent, delighted in the greyish pallour when the scrambled eggs appeared at the table.

“You will be coming to church tomorrow?” The Vicar asked as Millicent cleared the last of the weeds from the path. Spring was a killer for growth, and if she didn’t keep on it, it’d turn into a gargantuan task come summer.

“No,” Millicent hefted the broom into her hand and started brushing the stones clean so he couldn’t accuse her of doing a half-hearted, free, job.

“Your Grandmother’s carer said your exams finished yesterday,” the Vicar tutted.

“These ones, I have Scottish ones to do next,” Millicent said with a pasted smile firmly in place. The old Vicar never fussed this much, but then she never came back during term time before.

“The English ones should be enough,” he huffed.

“Well you know the Scottish,” she hummed. “If that’s everything, I’ll be getting back to my studies.”

“There are some fences that need working on,” the Vicar started to point them out to her.

“Mr Hendry can get you the carpenter's number if you can’t find it in the Vicarage, Vicar,” Millicent said. “The lawn is getting a little long, have you asked for it to be mown?”

“The Church is running low on funds,” the Vicar looked sternly at her.

“You should speak to Mr Smith, he has control of the trust for the cemetery's upkeep. It’s all part of the charter,” Millicent smiled sweetly. “The path isn’t covered but the overall lawns leading down to the cemetery is. I’ll be back to edge the path in a few weeks.”

She left before he could try and pin more stuff on her. Coming back to find Molly playing with Timmy while Daisy was out with “the girls” was more than a surprise.

She hadn’t realised that Molly had kept in touch. When she moaned at Bill about Timmy’s noise, he pointed out how much Molly had coddled the youngster at Easter. She’d adopted Millicent pretty much immediately, and Millicent was a teenager. It was a miracle that Daisy hadn’t moved in.

Watching Fleur dodge sticky hands and Percy wince every time Timmy shrieked, which was often, made it semi-manageable.

“You know you could go back to the Burrow,” Millicent suggested after Percy looked ready to cry.

“Can’t.”

“Oh right,” Millicent shrugged. “Or go back to your place.”

“Ollie’s using it,” he whined.

“How about Fleur’s?”

“She’s not allowed male company,” Percy actually whimpered as Timmy screamed with laughter at something Molly was doing.

“Just go up to my room and silence it,” Millicent offered.

“Really?” he looked half desperate.

“Just don’t have sex,” Millicent pulled a face. “And she’s not allowed on my bed. She can sit on Mopsy’s/Bills. And she can’t touch my things.”

Fleur in good grace, having found Percy had somewhere to escape to, bolted off for her own home, congratulating Millicent on completing her exams first for the sixteenth time.

“Milly dear, can you keep Timmy occupied for an hour?” Molly popped through. “I’m needed at the Burrow.”

Millicent could think of a million things she’d prefer to do, fixing the Church fence being one, instead, she agreed.

“Alright, want to go see the pigs?” Millicent asked Timmy who’d started to climb on the sofa.

The answer was yes, yes Timmy did want to go see the pigs. She left a note on the kitchen table, stuck him in his wellies, and carried him down to Joe’s farm.

“Pigs?” he asked when she popped her head in through the kitchen.

“Please. If you’ve got scraps we’ll even feed them, you’ll like that, won’t you Tim Tim,” Millicent bounced him on her hip as he shoved his hand in his mouth again. Better his hand than her hair. Mopsy would go spare.

Joe had two big pig pens for breeding, and then a couple of fields for them to roam. He kept a few for himself, claiming they were better company than most. Millicent liked them for the way they could devour a human corpse without breaking a sweat.

It’s one of the many facts she’d enjoyed from Joe, growing up.

Timmy liked them because they were covered in shit. He liked how they squealed and rolled. He liked scratching Big Bertha’s side as she sprawled so the piglets could feed. He especially liked her spots. Joe would show her at the county show, with her winning a few ribbons over the years.

After he tried to climb into the pen, something Millicent decided was a bad idea - mainly because she didn’t trust him not to try and copy the piglets, they headed down to see the lambs. The Bartlets had sheep, and their fields ran alongside Joe’s. There weren’t many tiny lambs, but still seeing the bigger lambs bouncing was enough to send Timmy into hysterics. But so had a caterpillar, a slug, a funny leaf and a magpie. Timmy found most things hysterically funny.

It was Bill who came to find them, after they’d gone to find Joe’s small herd of cows who’d roamed to the far edge of his farm. Timmy finally started to calm down after he’d had his arm swallowed by a calf. He’d tried to see if they would eat him head first. Millicent proudly admitted she’d only considered letting him for half a second. Even if it did make her evil in Timmy’s eyes for all of a minute. Then a worm was eaten by a bird and all was right with the world again.

“Mum was worried you’d run away to join the circus,” Bill teased as she picked Timmy up off the floor from where he’d been sleepily trying to find a four-leaf clover in a field of grass.

“What do you think? Want to run away and join the circus, Timmy?” Millicent asked, cradling him against her chest.

“Yss,” Timmy snuffled.

“Alright then,” Millicent stroked his hair gently. When he wasn’t screaming he was tolerable. “Daisy back?”

“She’s taking a nap on your bed,” Bill grinned. “Percy’s moved to the sofa.”

“Mopsy can clean it,” Millicent stopped herself from shrugging.

“Want me to take him?” Bill asked with a soft expression on his face.

“Getting broody?” Millicent waggled her eyebrows, he just grinned. “I bet Percy isn’t.”

“No bet,” Bill laughed.

“I bet Fleur isn’t either,” Millicent shifted Timmy slightly so he didn’t jostle as they walked back, taking the longer way up the crest of the hill until they could look down at the farmhouse and in the distance, Gran’s. “Best place on Earth.”

“It’s not bad,” Bill agreed.

“Live here much longer, and you won’t want to live anywhere else,” she nudged him gently. “We’ll knock the soft southern out you soon enough.”

“Not worried you’ll go the other way?” he teased.

“I’m a good Northern lass,” Millicent mock scolded.

When they got back, Daisy was busy drinking tea with Percy and Molly, flashing a ring at the table.

“Congrats,” Millicent whispered, taking Timmy into the living room into the playpen Molly had set up. “Farra?”

Daisy nodded, standing up to hug her. “Three weeks. Be my bridesmaid?”

“Definitely,” Millicent hugged her back. She might have terrible taste in men, and the devil spawn for a child, but she did like Daisy.

“Farra?” Molly asked.

“Old Man Farra, next farm down,” Millicent answered, checking out the ring.

“He’s got four months left,” Daisy slipped it off so Millicent could look at it properly. “Except the nurse thinks it might be sooner. So he wants to do it now. The Vicar doesn’t want to, but Farra spoke to him. It’s going to be on a Saturday, with a bit of a do-on at the village hall. Irene’s sorting the food, and I’m going to ask Joan to do my flowers.”

“Don’t!” Millicent blushed at how quickly she shouted. “Mopsy’s been obsessed recently. We’ll do the flowers. Joan can do your reading, she’s good at that.”

“Would you do a reading?”

“Sure,” Millicent agreed. “So hen do earlier?”

“Not really,” Daisy accepted the ring back. “It’s not something you can talk about with outsiders.”

“Want to go do something then, on the Friday night? We could go into town and then spend the night here?” Millicent offered, hopping onto the kitchen counter and pulling out a pen and paper. “Joe’ll run us into town, and bring us back if we told him what time.”

“Pictures?”

“Yep, I’ve got money for it, my treat,” Millicent made a note to talk to Joe. “And then, what are you thinking for your wedding dress?”

“Mum’s old one, it fits and looks nice on me,” Daisy got a bit teary-eyed.

“Aww, that’s lovely. So that’s something old, and I’ll ask Gran, but she’s got that blue pendant, so it can be your borrowed and blue. We just need something new.”

“I’ll need new shoes,” Daisy pointed out.

“I’m sure we can get you a new penny too,” Millicent nodded, putting it on the list. “Invites?”

“Just the village,” Daisy hummed.

“Not even one of your friends?” Millicent checked.

“It’ll just be awkward,” Daisy shook her head. “I’m not changing my name for work. Just for the will.”

“Makes sense,” Millicent agreed. “Are you sending out invites to the village, or just putting up a notice?”

“Notice, I’ll make sure to go to the next couple of dances, and the Vicar will announce it at the end of service tomorrow,” Daisy hugged her again.

“I’m really pleased for you,” Millicent squeezed back.

“Thanks! I just need someone to look after Timmy for me,” Daisy bit her lip.

“Make him a flower boy and I’ll keep him,” Millicent offered.

“We’ll help,” Bill said, reminding the two women the Weasleys were also sat in the kitchen.

“Thanks, Bill,” Millicent beamed at him. “It’s my first village wedding, I can’t wait.”

“It’ll be my second,” Daisy giggled. “You’ll be next.”

“Maybe,” Millicent blew air out of her cheeks, not looking at Bill.

“Loads of time yet,” Daisy ruffled her hair.

“Definitely,” Millicent agreed, very much not looking at Bill.

“Thanks for looking after Timmy today, I really do appreciate it,” Daisy buzzed, popping out to get Timmy who was still fast asleep. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Bye Daisy!” Millicent waved, not stopping until she’d gotten in the car and started off down the road.

“Old Man Farra?” Molly asked the moment she returned into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Millicent answered.

“Who has four months to live,” Percy said.

“Well, yes,” Millicent hopped back onto the counter. “That’s the whole point.”

Bill looked a lot less bothered than the other two by it, but then he’d been drinking with Joe, so might already be aware of it.

“I told you, if you want the gossip, check the church records,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “And you’ve been going out dancing in the village. Surely you’ve heard the talk?”

“I can make an educated guess,” Bill settled back into his chair, watching Percy with a growing grin.

“It’s a tax dodge,” Millicent explained after a minute. “No one wants to give the government anything, so if someone dies without having family, which in this village, happens a reasonable amount. Then a single younger person will marry the older dying person, and inherit without having to pay any death duty. And the land keeps out of the government's hands.”

“A tax dodge,” Percy sounded unimpressed.

“Old Man Farra’s land isn’t worth anything to anyone other than Daisy,” Millicent pointed out. “She’s renting in town, whereas she’ll have a home that she can afford to pay for. After the mine collapse, the farm went entirely off-grid, paid for by the authorities. There’ll be no mortgage, the waterboard runs the water through several of his fields so she’ll get some rent. But more importantly - Timmy will have somewhere safe to grow up in. Plenty of space for him to run about in, the schools are small so he’ll get a better education than in the town.”

“If it’s not worth anything then can’t he just leave it to her?” Percy asked with a frown.

“No, because they’ll just make up a price and then she’ll end up paying for it, which she can’t do. Daisy’s one of us, it was going to be Old Man Farra, or maybe Jones, but Jones is healthy as an ox at the moment, or according to Joe he is,” Millicent shrugged. “It’s been going on forever here. Joe’s grandfather did it. Mrs Smith is the second Mrs Smith. The old Vicar did five deathbed weddings. One of them was dead by the time he got there - that you can’t tell anyone.”

Bill’s lips twitched, as Percy looked horrified.

“I told you to read the records,” Millicent shrugged.

“If Daisy was married?” Molly’s brow was scrunched.

“I’m not legal, and there is a nurse employed by the state for him. Granted it might have been that he married the nurse, they’ve been his nurse for a couple of years,” Millicent shrugged.

“And when you’re legal?” Molly and Percy asked at the same time, with Bill mouthing Joe at her, and she nodded. He thought about it before giving an understanding nod.

“Well I’m currently betrothed,” Millicent pointed out, ignoring the grin spreading over Bill’s face. She might have to do something about how he was able to keep track of what she wasn’t saying.

Maybe teaching him all of Mopsy’s tricks, hadn’t been the best idea. Especially as a lot of Mopsy’s best tricks were also Millicent’s.

Daisy knew that if she was single she’d be up for a deathbed marriage. Just like Millicent. It wasn’t something discussed outside of the village.

“What about if there isn’t someone of the opposite gender?” Percy asked.

“Well Old Man Farra wasn’t always Old Man Farra,” Millicent shrugged. Bill coughed as Percy gaped. “He’s been really ill for a bit.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I mean, we do,” Millicent shrugged. “Go read the records and don’t snitch.”

“Percy won’t snitch,” Bill promised.

“And don’t talk about it with anyone else,” Millicent warned.

“We won’t,” Bill spoke for the other Weasleys.

“So I’m going to be a bridesmaid, I forgot to ask what colour dress she wants me in,” Millicent frowned. “Can you ask for me at the dance? Or I could call her. I should probably call her later. Two weddings this year, proves I’m getting older.”

Chapter Text

Everyone in the school - well, fifth and seventh years were in panic stations. Millicent chose to run every morning to cope with it all, which proved difficult. Fucking midges. It was the worst time of year to be in Scotland, midge season. They weren’t great later in the day, but first thing, when the rest of the world was still, the minuscule devils choked her.

They bit, flew in her mouth and eyes, up her nose, in her ears, in her hair. Fuckers. George was worse off, being a redhead. They really liked his blood. She didn’t get bitten, didn’t get the tiny red dots over her skin. But the feeling as she ran through clouds as they lurked in the grounds waiting for fresh meat…

Home was better, the winds kept them at bay, the lack of stagnant water, the lack of children. But Hogwarts…

Neither Gilly nor Mary were affected, they still finished every run looking pristine and serene. It was getting to the point where she was probably consuming enough protein from midges to survive on.

“Bubblehead,” Mary suggested, as Millicent spat black spotted saliva out.

Fucking magic. Bubblehead semi-worked, it kept them out of her hair and face. But they still got in her clothes. She’d find them at night, falling out of her socks even after she changed them.

Full body shield was the only way forward. Running with it was awful. She was running with resistance, the shielding not moving fluidly, there were times when she was all but pressed up against it, and then others when it almost pushed her along. And it collected a blackened exterior from the sheer amount of insects splattered over it. Like a terrible car windscreen. At the end of the run it would fall around her feet, a little circle of death.

It was better than not running. Running and music were about all keeping her sane.

Fourth years and above were allowed to use the Muggle Club room in an evening unsupervised by teachers, with some of the desks and chairs being transfigured into bean bags. Incense was burnt, chocolate shared, and music played loudly while the older Muggle Club students had mini-mental breakdowns.

Someone badly transfigured a guitar and would practice the same four chords over and over again, quietly in a corner, as they ran through the mating habits of animals. Another danced while reciting potion recipes. Millicent liked to turn her music up so loud she couldn’t hear herself - or anyone else think.

The school hummed with anxiety, in a way she’d never noticed the previous years.

“We’ve got a chance at passing with good grades this year,” George explained, as she paced their study room. Only Harry seemed unconcerned by it all.

“I’m good,” he kept smiling happily to himself.

“He’s insane,” Blaise shrugged it off.

“Do you think they’d let me just come back for the exams?” Millicent asked after she’d walked into someone crying over losing their lucky quill.

“No,” came the answer from Snape.

The common room was no saner. She was surprised Malfoy was alive he looked so dreadful. Every table was taken over by exam prep, with anyone not doing exams being relegated to chairs without desks. It was unusual not to see someone about to throw up, faint, cry, or scream. The screaming in particular was always a joy and a delight. Regardless of blood status, half the students seemed to have parents with unrealistic ideas of what their darlings could actually achieve.

Straight O’s for Crabbe and Goyle were out of the question. They’d spent too much time following Malfoy around like lapdogs. Pansy spent too much time on her face. Greengrass just had no skill when it came to numbers. Davis was bright and worked hard but as soon as she sat down with an exam paper she threw up. Everywhere. Even with a potion from the Matron.

Harry just kept fucking smiling.

Ron was stoic, Granger and her study group were rabid in the library, to the point where it’d become a school issue.

Millicent hadn’t seen a Ravenclaw out of class, they’d retreated to their Tower and as far as she could tell - barring the couple who used the Muggle Club room to smoke terrible incense - didn’t sleep without a book on their faces.

Gilly seemed more anxious about wedding prep, and Mary - well Mary was busy making plans. Plans for after the exams. In part because her parents were planning on relocating back to Kerala after the wedding. They wanted the girls to go with them, she knew Mary had declined the offer.

Mary’s family wasn’t the only one who were discussing relocating. If one was to listen to the hushed conversations, more and more families were retreating to Mainland Europe, or further abroad. Reuniting with other family members, or taking job offers that took them out of Britain. She wondered how many would be back for Sixth Year.

Still, she had something else to concentrate on. Daisy’s wedding. She’d left early on the Friday, skipping out after lunch to meet up with Daisy at Joe’s. She’d thrown on her spotty dress, which seemed to have shrunk to the point that if it wasn’t for the hot pants she’d pulled on underneath, it’d have been indecent.

It used to brush her knees and now it was more of a mini. Which ruled out bowling, being too close to home for it not to get back into the village. They’d decided against watching an Avant-Garde Film in Scandinavian about - well, they couldn’t work out what it was about off the poster, and the man on the desk wasn’t helpful in the slightest.

Instead they went for a meal, and then spent the night dancing, the two of them convincing the barman to give them a lift back to the bottom of Gran’s lane in the wee hours. Creeping into the house with hushing and giggling before flopping on the floor in the living room, Daisy snuggling into Millicent’s side as they whispered the secrets of the universe to the ceiling.

Molly woke them with the sizzling of sausage and bacon, hurrying Daisy into the bathroom to get washed first.

“Good night?”

“Excellent night,” Millicent yawned. “We didn’t stay out too late.”

“Four am,” Bill helped, reading the paper.

“It wasn’t that late, the clubs kick out at one,” Millicent bit back a bigger yawn.

“You tried the key in the window, then attempted to come in through the back door, before I let you in through the front door,” he said.

“At one,” Millicent pulled a face.

“At four am,” Bill corrected. “And then you spent twenty minutes showing off the dance moves you’d learned, another ten talking about the best drink in the world, and then you spent at least an hour talking to the ceiling.”

“I think you’re imagining things,” Millicent stole a sausage out of the pan while Molly had her back turned. It was hotter than she expected.

“You don’t look hungover,” Molly hummed, ignoring Millicent huffing air to cool down her mouth.

“We were on alcohol-free drinks,” Millicent explained, swallowing once it was cold enough. “They did us virgin versions because we had to be awake today.”

“And not because you happen to be underage,” Bill said, winking as Millicent pulled a face at him.

“We did get offered some tabs, but we turned them down,” Millicent stuck her tongue out. “The barman said if we wanted to go back he’d bring us home, he lives in the next village over.”

“You said,” Bill accepted a plate off Molly, who swatted gently at Millicent’s legs as she hopped onto the counter.

“Use the chair dear - I think I hear Daisy finished in the bathroom. Run up and get washed up, you can eat while I do Daisy’s hair. Arthur’s bringing Timmy over later,” Molly chided gently.

“Timmy stayed at the Burrow?” Millicent looked at Bill in consternation.

“At Daisy’s dear,” Molly tapped her on the leg again. “Go wash up.”

“Yes Molly,” Millicent agreed pulling a face at Bill.

“I saw that,” Molly said with her back to Millicent, Bill grinning behind his paper. Fucker.

Daisy was bright-eyed and relatively bushy-tailed considering they’d not had a massive amount of sleep. She snacked on breakfast as Molly teased her hair into an elegant floral updo. Daisy did her own makeup after a group effort got the dress on without messing up the hair. Daisy insisted, even after Molly assured her not even gale force winds would disturb it.

Watching Bill eyes closed, holding the large meringue dress, had Millicent in stitches.

He had the last laugh, as she was sent off to put on her bridesmaid dress. Especially when she fought with the large puffy shoulders and huge bow on the back.

“Sorry, it was the only one I could get that would be long enough,” Daisy apologised, tittering behind her bouquet.

“It’s fine,” Millicent lied, ignoring the toule scratching at her legs.

“I could remove the bow?” Molly frowned at it.

“We don’t have time, and it’s Daisy’s day. Wouldn’t be a good look if I outshined her on her big day,” Millicent grimaced. Why it had to be bright lime green as well? She’d remember it for when Daisy was her matron of honour. Unless she married Bill.

Daisy dusted her face with a light smattering of makeup, while Molly tortured her hair into a tight bun, and dumping a flower crown to make Millicent look even more ridiculous. Bill certainly seemed to think so, judging by the grin every time she caught his eye.

Molly disappeared into Gran’s room, reappearing in a lovely sky blue dress, with Bill changing into a suit that she’d never seen before.

Timmy and Arthur turned up as the wedding car did, Timmy in a little tailsuit looking so cute that they all cooed. How Arthur managed to wrestle him into it and not be covered in chocolate was beyond Millicent. That being said he did raise the Weasley brood, and she imagined none of them other than Percy had been easy.

Bill, Molly and Arthur were following in Arthur’s car, with Daisy, Timmy and Millicent being driven in an old Black Bentley, with Timmy sat on Millicent’s knee to stare out the window at all the things he’d seen before.

“Ready?” Millicent checked as they waited outside the Church for the cue.

“Completely,” Daisy shined brightly.

“You look gorgeous,” Millicent said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Thanks,” Daisy sighed happily, brushing down the dress as the doors opened for them.

The Church was packed full of the village, everyone in their Sunday best. A collective coo as Daisy got to the bottom of the aisle, Millicent straightening out the veil and the train before holding onto Timmy’s hand as he threw flowers at people.

Old Man Farra was standing at the front with Joe, who bore most of his weight. Millicent hadn’t seen him out and about since before she’d gone to Hogwarts. Malfoy looked healthier, which was saying something. She could believe he didn’t have long left. There was the faintest stench of decay that only grew stronger as they got closer.

The Vicar looked perturbed by the whole affair, but performed the ceremony anyway. Jean did a reading about marriage, and Millicent did one about Shakespearian love. She risked a glance at the Weasley clan who’d taken up a pew just by themselves, to see Molly teary-eyed clutching onto Arthur. Fleur looked a little misty too. Millicent resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and then had to bite back a snort as Bill winked at her. Twat. Still, Daisy seemed to like it, which was convenient as she’d picked the reading.

Keeping Timmy from throwing the flower basket at Joe, took some doing, as did making sure he handed the wedding rings to the Vicar. Millicent kept hold of them until the last possible minute, only for Timmy to attempt to eat them instead of handing them over.

The kiss was a chaste cheek kiss, and signing of the register, well, Joe signed for Farra and Millicent did for Daisy after they stared the Vicar down when he started to complain.

They did photos outside, with people propping up Farra, who could barely speak after the ceremony. Still, Daisy looked happy as everyone congratulated them. Millicent couldn’t speak for Farra, as far as she’d known, Farra hadn’t been happy since the accident that killed her Dad.

The wedding car took Daisy and Farra down to the village hall, with Timmy sitting on Millicent’s knee in the back of the Weasley’s car. Someone, at some point, had given the tyke a bag of buttons and he was busy shoving them into his mouth, offering semi melted chocolate to Millicent in between shouting at the sheep in the fields.

More photos as the first dance happened, a slightly shaky stand in the middle of the floor, before Farra retired to his wheelchair by the bar. Daisy on the other hand danced the afternoon away, stealing dances with everyone, man and woman alike. Millicent was the same, in solidarity of course, ignoring the teasing from Bill about her shoulders.

“Having fun?” Millicent asked Percy as he took her for a spin around the floor.

“Bit more than New Years,” he confessed, looking over to Fleur who was dancing with Timmy.

“Bleargh,” Millicent pulled a face. “I guess if she makes you happy.”

“She does,” Percy’s face lit up as Fleur waved at him.

“Molly doesn’t seem to hate her too much,” Millicent relented a little.

“Dad likes her,” Percy couldn’t keep his eyes off Fleur, to the point he’d stepped on Millicent’s toes. “Sorry.”

“Arthur likes everyone,” Millicent couldn’t help herself. “She just needs to stop trying to kiss me, the pox-ridden wench that she is.”

“Mum’s not a fan of that either, Julia doesn’t seem to mind,” Percy suddenly span Millicent without warning.

“Sometimes Gran’s not to be trusted,” Millicent pointed over to where Gran was sat with Mr and Mrs Smith, several empty sherry glasses littered the table, all three fast asleep.

“Mopsy likes her.”

“Because Fleur gave her stinky perfume,” Millicent pulled a face. “My room stinks of it at school.”

He laughed as she started listing off all the peculiarities of Mopsy’s new beauty regime. Mopsy who had declined the invitation to come to the wedding to do “things” with “someone”.

Bill stole her next dance after Timmy barreled into Molly’s arms to dance with Parent’s Weasley.

“Are we burning it when we get home?” Bill asked.

“Yes, and any photos that have me in them wearing this monstrosity,” Millicent tugged on the arms again.

“I heard an interesting rumour,” he whispered as Percy and Fleur swung by.

“Oh?” Millicent’s interest was piqued.

“Someone was seen looking at rings with their best friend,” Bill danced them away from Joe and Jean who had started to swing dance.

“Percy?” Millicent blinked, remembering to continue to dance as Bill, gently guided her around the floor.

“According to Ollie,” Bill murmured.

“They’ve only just started dating,” Millicent stared.

“When Percy know’s what he wants, he knows what he wants.”

“What if she doesn’t say yes?” Millicent gripped onto his arm. She liked Percy. She needed him on top form to get rid of everyone she didn’t like at Hogwarts. If Fleur ruined this for Millicent, she’d strangle the bint.

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Bill confessed. “You’ve seen them together.”

“They’ve only just met,” Millicent hissed.

“Dad said he just needed to look at Mum to know he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.”

“That’s because Molly is brilliant, and your Dad isn’t stupid,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Of course he did.”

“I think Percy thinks the same about Fleur.”

Millicent stared at the other Weasley brother. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Molly will go apeshit,” Millicent stared.

“I’m not so sure,” Bill smiled fondly at Percy.

“They’ve only just met.”

“He’s happy, it’s what Mum wants, for all of us, to be happy. Dad too.”

“Fucking hell,” Millicent stared. “I won’t have to be a bridesmaid will I?”

“Probably,” Bill laughed. “With Ginny, and Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle I think her name is.”

“I’m not wearing this again,” Millicent frowned. “And I already have a wedding for the Summer so they’ll just have to wait.”

“I’ll let Percy know.”

Chapter Text

Going back to school and not immediately gossiping about Percy was hard. Especially as every time she saw a Weasley that she liked, or Blaise, or Gilly or Mary or even Harry, she just wanted to tell someone. So instead she channeled her inner statue and ran as much as possible.

It was either baking hot, or as hot as Scotland got, or torrential rain.

Farra’s funeral happened a week after the wedding, he'd not survived the party, passing away peacefully with a pint in his hand. Millicent shared watching Timmy with Bill, whilst Molly and Arthur supported Daisy throughout. It wasn’t Millicent’s first funeral in the village, and she knew it probably wouldn’t be the last for the year. Village funerals were always more celebrations than mournings, with old photos being displayed at the Village Hall. She had fun pointing out who everyone was, including a very dodgy photo of Daisy’s parents dancing with Joe from the sixties with her Dad and Joe’s only son as young boys, Daisy a baby sat bouncing on Gran’s lap.

Percy kept his mouth shut, although she’d answered a couple of questions regarding who certain names were, proving he’d started to actually read through the records. Bill even confessed that Percy had joined him and Joe for a pint.

The primal screams as exams began in earnest, had flocks of birds scattering every time. Millicent’s trip to the Matron to get her nutrient levels checked, exposed her to babbling students rocking in corners, leaking from their faces.

Harry was still incredibly chill.

“You are never right in a month of Sundays,” she collared him as they sidestepped a Ravenclaw kicking a wall.

“I just feel like I’ve got this,” he grinned.

Blaise snorted, chewing on his anti-anxiety gum Fiona suggested to him.

“Weirdo.”

“I know,” Harry grinned.

“I just want it all over now,” Millicent groaned. The tables were shrinking and her back was aching from having to lean over so much. “And then I’m never coming back.”

“Except you are,” Blaise pointed out, idly blowing bubbles.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Millicent glared at him. “I’m never coming back. I’m going to burn the place down and then scatter all of the stones so they can’t rebuild. I might even salt the earth for good measure.”

“Course you will,” Blaise hummed, suddenly barreling forward as they caught sight of Fiona and the other Puff’s in front.

“And he’s off,” Millicent muttered.

“It’s nice everyone’s pairing up,” Harry said, still smiling like a fucking idiot.

“Except you,” she pointed out.

“I think I need some me time. To learn about who I am,” Harry mused.

“Have you been smoking something?” Millicent stopped staring at him.

“Luna lent me some self-help books on learning my inner me,” Harry said happily. “I’ve got lots of trauma from being an orphan, but I don’t need to let it define me. You don’t let your trauma define you. I’m trying to channel my inner -“

“If you say Millicent I will kill you,” Millicent warned, and he burst into laughter.

“You should see your face! No. I think one of you is enough in the school, and I don’t have the strength to you know, throttle someone while they are hanging in mid-air. Or the balls to constantly test Snape to the point of him exploding,” Harry mused. “I have my own dynamic with him, and it’s a lot less forgiving.”

“Yeah it’s called not understanding how far you can push it,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“I’m not as intimidating,” Harry winked at her, and she huffed, starting to walk again as they’d begun to create a blockage in the hallway.

“He’s not intimidated.”

“I don’t think anyone can intimidate Snape,” Harry agreed. “You intimidate everyone else though.”

“Thanks,” she preened.

The common room was open warfare when she made it after the evening meal, with everyone not doing exams cowering in one corner and everyone doing exams demented in the rest of the room.

“What the fuck is going on?” Millicent hissed at Blaise at the wands being waved.

“SHUSH!” a seventh-year screamed.

“Calm the fuck down,” Millicent growled. “It’s the common room, you can’t expect everyone to be silent. You want silence go to your fucking room or the library or steal one of the many empty classrooms.”

“That’s what we said!”

“Exams are important!”

“Not everyone can just have their own school!”

“You can’t threaten us because we breathed!”

“Why did no one get Snape?” Millicent hissed.

“No one knows where he is,” Blaise whispered in her ear.

“Get one of the others then,” she rolled her eyes. “Rosie - go find a responsible adult, as difficult as that might be in this shithole.”

Millicent managed to disarm all the troublemakers by taking, growling, and snapping, so that by the time Flitwick appeared looking cheery, the knife edge had dulled to a spoon.

“Ah, exam stresses,” he clapped his hands together and the room filled with hot chocolates and cakes. Hankies were handed out, hugs were advised, and fresh air was blown through the room until the threat level had all but died completely.

“A good night's sleep, and life will seem so much better,” he advised after listening to a deluge of babble. That it was nowhere near curfew didn’t seem to occur to anyone as the room emptied as all good snakes slithered off to sleep. Millicent waited long enough to make sure everyone had headed to bed, before heading off herself.

He’d not been wrong, a good night’s sleep, more hot chocolate and a bit of breathing exercises had the common room a more peaceful place. And the eventual end of exams. No more exams helped with the stress levels in the common room, equal to but not more than the chocolate.

Millicent’s last exam ended with a collective thank fuck the moment they’d left the room. The NEWTs ended shortly after, and everyone even remotely related to Muggle Club headed down to the lake with the cd player and danced, sang and cried for a solid four hours until they were chased back in thanks to the midge storm.

Still.

It was done.

And never before had Millicent wondered what the fuck the school was doing.

“Can I not go home now?” Millicent asked again, this time in Potions.

“No,” he glared at her. They were reviewing material from first year to fifth. A complete waste of time. And this was better than some of the classes, Binns hadn’t even acknowledged exams were over, if even started. Flitwick had them playing with spells. Lupin finally handed back all of their assignments and told them to do group projects on their favourite spells. Fucking lazy bastards.

Didn’t help that Audrey wrote to tell her about her lovely holiday now Beauxbaxton’s had kicked them out. Bitch. It didn’t stop Millicent writing back to arrange meeting up. Gran promised she could over the summer, the previous summer, and Millicent was damned if she’d miss out on seeing Audrey again. The school year had been in many ways brilliant, and Mopsy was a pretty good roommate, but it hadn’t stopped her missing Audrey.

So Millicent did what Millicent did best, sulk. And make everyone around her pay.

“Do you think we could meet up in the summer hols?” Dennis asked at the end of Muggle Club, there was only one club left until term ended, not that Millicent was counting down the seconds.

“Not a chance,” Millicent scowled at him. He’d still not mastered a pretty easy trick and she was starting to think he was doing it deliberately.

“Please?” He was blinking a lot. Dean wasn’t helping by smirking with Blaise, the pair suddenly bosom friends now exams were over.

“No, I have plans for the summer,” Millicent snapped. “And I could’ve started IF I WAS ALLOWED TO GO FUCKING HOME!” She screamed the moment Lupin left the room, growling as he immediately darted back in.

“Miss Bulstrode,” he warned.

“Ugh,” she threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t wait to fucking leave this place.”

Dennis actually looked sad. “You don’t mean that.”

George pulled her out of the room before she pulled Creevey’s head off. “Shall we go scream in the woods?”

“Yes.”

So they did, or more Millicent did, until her voice was hoarse.

Bill stealing everyone except Ginny to go to the pictures to see Fargo before school let out was both genius and not. Millicent was enthralled. She absolutely adored it. Harry looked a bit green around the gills when the woodchipper appeared, she even offered her hand as he flinched. They both ignored the fact that when he took it, she squeezed gently.

“The Bartlets have a woodchipper,” she mused to George afterwards as they demolished a sundae waiting for a bowling lane.

“Don’t tell Bill,” he warned with a grin. Fred and Bill were kicking Harry and Ron’s ass at air hockey, which considering they’d played before was probably only right.

Millicent trounced Harry at bowling, Ron was ridiculously good at it the prick. George and Fred had an unnatural advantage of being twins, and Bill claimed to have been practising with Percy and Ollie. Wanker. She'd loved it, other than having to go back to school...

There was nothing worse than wasting time and there was no benefit to staying in school. That was until the last day and her campaign of destroying every other house's chances of winning the house cup came to fruition. Then she got to be ecstatic.

Not even Dumbledore could fuck up Millicent’s Hufflepuff scheme. There was a clear six hundred point lead for Hufflepuff. She’d bullied Slytherin’s actual prefects into aiding her, and half of Muggle Club. Cross Country were all for it, with them leading the cheers as Dumbledore rather reluctantly called for the win. Someone had obviously been warned that Millicent might attempt to remove the points system and Filch had been on guard all day.

Mopsy promised she’d try and help her steal the actual cup instead for the wedding day, Gilly and Mary would probably return it afterwards. But still, it’d make a good wedding goblet for them, once cleaned out.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Blaise sighed as Millicent glowed with pride.

“Wedding present.”

“Well it’s not happening again,” he warned.

“I don’t like anyone else enough,” she agreed. “Unless it’s Ginny, but she’s not getting married before I leave so it won’t matter.”

“You would as well,” he gave her the side eye.

“It’s as fair as Dumbledore giving it to Gryffindor because Harry sneezed once,” she shrugged. “And Hufflepuff didn’t get all the points from me.”

“No but you did remove everyone else's,” he pointed out. “When Snape works out what you’ve been doing he’ll go spare.”

“He’s too busy,” she purred. “They all are. None of them noticed until today, and it’s way too late.”

“I bet Sprout did,” he groused.

“Fair play if she did,” Millicent grinned. “Like it means anything. Dumbles sorted that out in first year.”

“It means something to them,” Blaise sighed, gazing at Fiona who radiated joy with her friends.

“So it should.”

“So,” he settled back, his fingers templing.

“So?”

“Mother’s inviting you and the Weasleys to holiday in Sicily with us for a week,” he mumbled. “She’s written to the Weasley Matriarch.”

“Well sucks to be you then, because I have plans,” Millicent grinned.

“They accepted,” he smirked.

“Well then it sucks to be them, because I have plans,” Millicent shrugged. “I’ve lined up work experience with Wood, I’ve got a long list of other jobs I need to fit in, and I’m seeing Audrey for a week.”

“Dubois can come too,” Blaise waved it away.

“Nott and Davies coming too are they?” Millicent narrowed her eyes.

“Fiona’s coming for a weekend,” he breezed by.

“I have plans, Zabini,” she repeated.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he risked his life by patting her on the shoulder.

The end of school photos, down by the lake, with all of the Muggle Club and Cross Country Running group, lifted her spirits a little bit. She didn’t cry when the mantle of running the club was handed over to Millicent as the only sensible student left in Cross Country. And if she did shed a small tear it was only because she already ran the Muggle one, and Creevey Senior was busy asking questions about a Photography club and would she volunteer as a senior to help run it with him - the answer was definitely not, even if Dennis tried rapidly blinking at her.

Still, lifting the little shit onto her shoulders while George wrapped his arm around her shoulders, Dean and Blaise pulled faces next to them, well, she might have mentioned to Creevey Senior she might want a copy of that one. And the one where he caught Blaise kissing Fiona on the cheek, and the one where Dean jumped on Blaise’s back after a comment about Hufflepuff’s being better kissers than Gryffindors.

Fuck she was going to miss the shits. Someone even convinced Lupin to be in a group photo, just for prosperity's sake. The difference a year made, as she looked out across the group of sixty odd, all grinning, chattering and laughing. Sometimes she couldn’t bring herself to hate the school, this was one of them.

Chapter Text

Millicent hadn’t talked to anyone about what was actually happening come summer. She’d not really thought to, and no one had approached her about it either. Gran long since agreed she was the architect of her summer holidays it didn’t occur maybe other people might not agree.

Millicent had a program for how summer went. She needed to earn about £300 to cover school supplies. She had a standing agreement with Joe that she’d help with on the farm for a week at the start of summer, getting everything back in shape, and then for the County Show she’d help out too. He’d been paying her close to the full amount even though she really wasn’t earning it.

Mowing lawns, weeding, painting, cleaning gutterings and fascias were all on the cards. And Timmy.

Then there was the Gran question. Gran, as far as Millicent was aware hadn’t spent a night at home since well, Christmas or nearabouts. But now Millicent was back for eight weeks, she could go home without there being a problem - other than for Bill.

She’d not spoken to Ginny either, who hadn’t mentioned needing money again since Easter. Mopsy’s own enterprise was raking in the cash, to the point where Millicent really was getting concerned about potential tax implications, no matter how much Joe said she didn’t need to be.

She wrote everything down, so that no one could accuse her of not being prepared, and waited for the family meal to be finished before clearing her throat. Gran was already dosing in her seat, having had several sherries.

“Milly?” Molly smiled at her, and Millicent preened under the warmth of it. Ginny looked half asleep forced to undertake the trip back on the train. Ron was ignoring everyone to chat to Harry who looked dead on his feet. Snape, Lupin and the other one sat next to Arthur and Bill, chatting quietly looking tight around the eyes but smelled - happy?

Fleur and Percy stank of it. She was doing her best not to glare at the blonde witch.

“Now I’m back for the Summer, I can look after Gran at home,” Millicent squared her shoulders, daring anyone to challenge her. “We’ve been talking about it. And while I don’t have to go back to Hogwarts during the week, it’s only right that things go back to normal.”

She hadn’t thought the Burrow could go silent. Only Gran’s faint snores filled the air.

“You can have a holiday,” Millicent carried on. “Mopsy will be at home in the garden when I’m working on the farm for the first week, and she can come and get me anywhere around the village.”

She pulled out her notes and passed them over to Molly. “This is the timetable for the first few weeks. I have meal plans, and I’ve even tabled in the times when if you still wanted to attend all of the dances and things you can. And we’ll clean Bill’s room here so he can move back in, or I spoke to Joe - Mr Hendry and he said he’s got plenty of spare rooms for Bill just for the summer. Or we can clear out the attic and Mopsy and I can share a bed while Bill moves into the attic space. Or the living room.”

“I promised Gran I would stick it out for the full seven years, so I will go back at the end of summer,” Millicent growled at even the mere thought of having to go back. “But under the same terms as the rest of this year. I’m not spending weekends there, and I’m not going on the stupid train. And I don’t have to attend every meal. I’ll continue to see the Matron every two weeks. I’ll be a legal adult end of August, and Joe will let me work with him if I need to.”

She let Mopsy slide onto her lap as Arthur flicked through the papers while Molly took her time to think.

“And I have thought about Gran’s hospital appointments. As soon as I’m 16, I’ll have access to a car, but up until then he’s happy to drive us if you aren’t available,” Millicent resisted the urge to bite her lip, especially as she could feel the tension rising in the room.

“And if it’s because Gran’s not in full control, I’ve been talking to Matron about it. And there is nothing wrong with it, it’s just part of getting old,” Millicent started to babble as no one else spoke. “Gran did it for me when I was younger, so it’s only right I do it now.”

“Oh and I don’t have a passport, so I can’t go to Sicily to see Blaise,” she added, not cuddling Mopsy at all.

“Shall we go outside?” Bill asked after another moment of complete silence, standing up with a bit of a clatter.

“Please,” she nodded, shifting Mopsy onto her side and escaping through the kitchen door before she could be stopped.

She wasn’t surprised to see the rest of the kids following, including Fleur and Percy.

“I think you broke Mum,” Ginny whispered, as Millicent bashed her head on the wall, Mopsy clinging to her legs.

“I haven’t seen them this stunned since Charlie announced he was going to work with Dragons,” Fred whistled.

“I thought Snape was going to go apoplectic,” Harry snickered. “It’s funny when it’s not directed at me.”

“Thanks for that,” Millicent booted him in the leg. “I didn’t mention I’m going to see Audrey either. Fuck.”

“They keep forgetting you aren’t tame,” Bill ran a hand down her back. “We can sort things so you can see Audrey.”

“You don’t mind being kicked out?” Millicent checked, peeking up from bashing her head on the wall.

“It is your home, and we did say during holidays you’d be living there,” Bill soothed. “We do need to talk to Mum about Julia though.”

“I can look after her, she’s my Gran!” Millicent snapped.

“No one is saying you can’t,” he continued to run a hand up and down her back.

“Who’s saying what?” Millicent shot up at the sound of another voice, she could smell the terrible cigarettes before she recognised the voice itself.

“CHARLIE!” the rangy man was mobbed by his siblings.

“I was planning on surprising everyone, but you’re all out here,” he laughed, roughhousing with the twins before gathering Ginny into a big hug.

“Milly’s broken Mum,” George teased.

“Fuck you,” Millicent cursed.

“I’d rather not.”

“You wish,” she stuck her tongue out, before launching at him as he went to ruffle her hair.

“Children,” Bill teased, tugging her away from beating George into a pulp.

She watched Percy get dragged into a hug, Ron get tormented about growing before being hugged and then it was Millicent’s turn.

“Little sister,” Charlie winked.

“Fuck off,” Millicent sniffed before allowing the hug. He’d shrunk a bit but smelled the same. He did give good hugs. Most of the Weasley’s did. “You missed out on seeing Fargo, and Trainspotting - excellent films.”

“The troubles of having to work for a living,” he snorted, ruffling Harry’s hair and teasing him about growing, which he hadn’t.

She watched Percy watch Fleur as Charlie introduced himself, the girl giggling at the over-dramatics as he bowed over her hand, only to snuggle into Percy the moment Charlie returned to Bill’s side. Maybe she wasn’t obsessed with only the red hair after all. She might give her a bit of a break. Maybe. Potentially. If she stopped trying to bloody kiss her.

“Time for a smoke before I go in?” Charlie asked.

“Probably for the best,” Bill grinned, offering a hand to Millicent as she hopped onto the wall next to Mopsy.

“Mopsy,” Charlie did a little bow, and Mopsy squealed. She’d toned down the amount of make-up, but only slightly. Millicent wasn’t sure where she’d found earrings, because none of them matched.

“Mopsy be thanking Mr Charlie for advice,” Mopsy batted her lashes at him, and Millicent frowned.

“You’re a plant expert?”

“Dragon fertiliser,” he grinned. “Mopsy wrote to ask if I could give her a discount.”

“It’s not even a real competition,” Millicent groaned.

“Mopsy be winning,” Mopsy sniffed. “Mopsy be winning and Miss Millicent be known as having best garden.”

“No one cares,” Millicent gave up.

“You could ask me,” Harry sidled up to Mopsy. “I did my aunt’s garden.”

“Mopsy not be offending, but you not be having good grades in Herbology,” Mopsy gave him a stern look. “Mr Ron be getting better grades, and Mr Ron’s grades not be good either.”

“Well, that told me,” Harry laughed.

“How do you know what his grades are?” George asked casually, as Millicent put a finger to her lips, gesturing to the house. “You little sneak, I bet you know everyone’s grades!”

“Mopsy be given permission to find experts,” Mopsy sniffed.

“Mopsy,” Bill sighed, raising his eyebrows at Millicent as if it was Millicent’s fault Mopsy had broken into all of the records to find out the information. Millicent did her best, but Mopsy was Mopsy.

“Does this mean you can find out what our exam results are before Mum and Dad do?” Fred asked with a gleam in his eye.

“No,” Millicent answered while Mopsy nodded. “Otherwise they’ll think we got her to manipulate them.”

“I can’t hear any of this conversation,” Percy muttered, stealing a cigarette from Charlie, who offered one to Bill and raised an eyebrow at Millicent.

“No thanks,” Millicent did breathe in though as Percy took a drag. “Smells awful.”

“You can’t even get this brand outside of the reserve,” he winked, Bill lit one of his own that looked a lot like Joe’s usual weapon of choice.

“How long are you back?” Fred asked, vying for a place by Charlie’s side.

“Most of the summer,” Charlie offered after a quick look at Bill. “Rumours of eggs again.”

Millicent watched Ron and Harry as they paled. “Going to share with the class?”

“We don’t know anything,” Ron said firmly staring at Harry.

“Well that’s a given,” Millicent muttered, giggling as Bill snorted.

“Don’t tell me,” Percy announced, deciding to pull Fleur into his lap. “Mum’ll go mad when she finds out you went to see Fargo. Ollie asked if we wanted to go, and Mum said yes. She was not happy.”

“Why would you take your Mum to see an 18?” Millicent blinked. “There’s lots of nice films for her to go see.”

“Ollie wanted to,” Percy repeated, resting his chin on Fleur’s shoulder as she chattered with Ginny. “They also came bowling.”

“Bowling’s fine,” Millicent shrugged.

“Daisy took Mum out to a wine bar,” Percy added. “Made us watch Timmy, as practice.”

“You’ll never have kids now,” Millicent offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Petit monstre,” Fleur chirped.

“Pretty much,” Millicent agreed. Sometimes she didn’t hate Fleur. Mainly when she made a little bit of sense.

Bill waited until he’d finished his smoke, and for Mopsy to finish berating Harry for his rubbish Herbology grades, before tugging Millicent back to her feet.

“Time to face the music.”

“We’re staying out here,” George stated, with everyone else in agreement.

“I’ll remember this next time one of you needs support,” Millicent sniffed, before tucking Mopsy onto Charlie’s lap. “Probably best if you don’t set Snape off too. And if I die, you know what to do.”

Mopsy nodded seriously, tapping the concealed pocket with Millicent’s key to her box of treasured things. “If Miss Millicent be in danger, Mopsy be rescuing.”

Millicent saluted her, snickering as Bill rolled his eyes.

“I’m not asking,” he muttered, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her back into the house.

They’d moved into the living room, Gran was awake with an enlarged puzzle on a cushion. Millicent was allowed to pour drinks and to sit before Snape got up to start pacing.

“What are you planning on doing with that amount of money?” he snapped.

“You probably haven’t noticed, but all of my clothes have shrunk, I’m going to need a new uniform unless the rules change and I don’t have to wear stupid robes next year,” she shrugged, nestling closer to Gran.

She spared a minute to glance at the puzzle, biting back the urge to snicker as Gran filled in the blank boxes with curse words.

“The school will provide you with a new uniform,” Snape paced some more.

“Since when?” Millicent asked politely. “Because they don’t for anyone else.”

“As my ward-“

“Except I can provide for myself,” Millicent cut across, before apologising at a sharp glance from Gran. “Sorry, Sir.”

“You are a child, you will not be providing for yourself,” he glared at Gran for some reason causing Millicent to bristle.

“Oi! You leave Gran out of this.”

“Millicent,” Gran warned.

“Gran!” Millicent yelped. “He’s no right!”

“Millicent Bulstrode,” Gran straightened up, and Millicent was back to being six.

“Sorry Gran,” she hung her head.

“And I’ll be expecting the same from you too young man,” Gran snapped. “I’ll not be disrespected in my own home. If I can turn this youngling over my lap, you’ll be in no doubt I can take a bean pole like yourself.”

“Julia,” Molly sighed.

“No Viola, in my home I’ll be having none of this disrespect,” Gran shook a finger angrily at Molly. “Just because Father was soft on you, I’ll not be having you ruin this one. Character building, she’s learning the value of money. She’ll not be left with nothing in this world, unlike some.”

“Gran!” Millicent moved to stand between Gran and Molly. “Molly’s been nothing but kind to us.”

“Kind! Soft is what she is. She’ll have you ruined with nothing if she has her way. Too reliant on what's in her fingers until it’s all too late,” Gran snarled. “I’ll not be living long enough to look after another bairn. You’ll be learning true responsibility. It ends with you.”

“I’m not with bairn, Gran,” Millicent knelt before her, holding onto her hands as they twisted into claws.

“Neither was she until she was,” Gran hissed. “Leavings on my doorstep, poor little mite. You didn’t come back for this one though. Left this one until now. She’s mine. Mine since she came into my arms. So you can keep your soft fancy bringings and leave this one alone.”

“Gran,” Millicent hissed. “You didn’t know Molly before.”

“I’ve known Viola her whole depressing life, floating from man to man, always chasing the better dream,” Gran glared above Millicent’s head. “It’s only out of respect for Father I don’t ask you to leave my home. I don’t owe you the same courtesy, young man. Watch your tongue else you’ll be gone.”

Millicent turned to stare at Molly for help. She had a pained expression on her face, Arthur was particularly blank-faced by her side.

“Sorry Mum,” Molly murmured.

“You always were. Never learned your lesson,” Gran tutted. “Millicent can take me to my room, and you’ll not be turning her head with your soft talk.”

“Molly?” Millicent didn’t understand what was going on.

“Take your Gran up to her room, Milly love,” Molly gave her a tight smile.

She carried Gran up to her bedroom, putting her to bed gently, her mind spinning.

“Don’t you pay attention to anything that wastrel of a girl tells you, you hear me. You don’t have the luxury of knowing I’ll be there to clean up after you. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, I’ve made sure of that. So you’ll earn your way, and it’ll keep you good for life. No handouts for you. Your father was the same, god rest his soul. Worked from the moment he could. Provided for himself and his family,” Gran stroked her face. “He would’ve been so proud of you. So very proud.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Millicent breathed. She could feel the tears forming and ducked to kiss Gran on the cheek. “I’ll bring you something up to eat later.”

Gran didn’t answer, and after closing the door gently behind her, Millicent crept into Ginny’s empty room, sitting on the bed with a thump.

“I’m sorry love,” Molly whispered, sitting on the bed next to her.

“I’m sorry,” Millicent brushed away the silent tears. “I’ll take her home and we’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh my sweetheart, no,” Molly wrapped her arms around her. “We should have been a bit more honest with you about Julia’s health.”

“She attacked you,” Millicent whispered.

“She’s confused,” Molly pressed kisses on her forehead. “That’s all it is. Confusion.”

“She hates you,” Millicent hung her head.

“I don’t think she even hates Viola,” Molly confessed. “She’s worried. She wants to protect you the only way she knows how.”

“Do you know who Viola is?” Millicent asked, slumping her head onto Molly’s shoulder, accepting the gentle caresses to her hair.

“She’s your Grandmother, Julia’s daughter,” Molly answered after a small pause. “Bill found out from Joe. She went away to school and never came back. No one was even sure she was still alive until she left your father with Julia.”

Millicent trembled. Gran was her Gran. Gran was her Dad’s Mother.

“She would’ve been his Mother more than his Gran,” Molly soothed. “She raised him by all accounts. Like she raised you.”

“Viola came back for Dad,” Millicent whispered. “My Mum didn’t come back for me.”

“We don’t know anything about your Mum,” Molly brushed the hair back from Millicent’s face. “But I don’t doubt if she could, she would’ve come back for you.”

A warm weight settled on Millicent’s other side, a hand offering a handkerchief.

“I’m sorry,” Millicent whispered, breaking at Arthur’s kindly face.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he smiled gently.

Chapter Text

Millicent tried to excuse herself back to Gran’s, rather than go back down. Arthur had other ideas, as he tucked her hand in his and escorted her down, while Molly checked in on Gran. Bill took one look at her, kicked Charlie out of the way and pulled her outside down to the smoking wall.

“Percy said we should tell you about your Gran,” he confessed.

“Percy’s the best,” Millicent mumbled, leaning into his side. She wasn’t prepared to look at his face, but he’d fast become a comforting presence in her life. It helped that he smelled of home.

“Mopsy’s sorting out the rooms at home, but Julia will be staying here,” he stroked her back.

“She’s not abusive,” Millicent mumbled into his chest. “I saw the looks Lupin and the other one were giving, Snape too.”

He hummed gently.

“She’s not,” Millicent repeated, feeling tired. “She’s never hit me, just spanked when I’ve needed correcting. It was hard on her, I’m a terror at the best of times, and she’s…”

Millicent had always known that Gran wasn’t the youngest. That Millicent had always too big and boisterous, and she needed to be careful around Gran. Running into Gran could send her flying. She’d learned to not walk so close so as not to walk on the backs of Gran’s heels. Not like Timmy who’d walk into everyone.

“It never hurt, not physically, just the shame of it, having made Gran angry enough to do it,” Millicent met his eyes, his kind stupid eyes that knew what she meant. “She raised a hellion.”

“Don’t let Mopsy hear you say that,” he laughed softly. “She’s convinced you are a delicate flower.”

“When it suits her,” Millicent gave a half grin. “I think she’s courting.”

He looked suitably horrified.

“She’s been talking about how much she has to do and it would be a good idea to share the load,” Millicent stuck her tongue between her teeth, focusing on something other than Gran for a moment.

“We need to warn Severus,” Bill hummed in faint fear.

“I’d rather not talk to him, or not for a bit,” she confessed. “He looked livid.”

“He was,” Bill agreed, wrapping an arm around her properly and pulling her into a gentle hug. “He takes being a guardian seriously.”

“I’m still paying for myself,” Millicent sighed into his chest, letting her eyes close to soak in his, Billness.

“Hmm,” he rumbled.

“Do I have to go to Sicily?” she asked after spending a minute in silent contemplation.

“We do,” he agreed. “The Contessa is a highly influential person in Mainland Europe.”

“Blaise is a prat,” Millicent sniffed.

“Who you’ve formed a bond with,” he tweaked her ear. “We will be talking about the Malfoy situation at some point.”

“It’s dealt with,” she sniffed dismissively.

“I was hoping it would’ve been, but according to my spies-“

“Fucking George,” Millicent half-heartedly tried to pull away, giving up as he squeezed lightly.

“Severus, Remus, Ginny, Dean, Fred, Harry, Mopsy, and Mary, have all passed on information,” he corrected. “Even Blaise sent me a letter to let me know what you did.”

“Fucking Blaise!” Millicent hissed. “I’ll kill him.”

“What are you planning on doing with Malfoy Junior?” Bill asked, letting her push him away.

She glanced down at her nails, considering her words. “Nothing. At the moment.”

“Nothing?” he sounded faintly dubious.

“It’s the beauty of it,” Millicent let a malicious smile curl on her lips. “He jumps every time he sees me. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s a complete and utter wreck.”

“His father won’t be happy,” Bill warned.

“Oh no,” Millicent shrugged. “Whatever shall I do.”

“Nothing,” he tugged on her nose. “You will not approach Malfoy Senior.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she promised. “I’m not suicidal, although if he’s anything like Junior I’m sure I could tear his throat out before he had chance to think.”

Bill paused, considering as he leaned back. “You probably could. He wouldn’t be alone.”

“That is true,” Millicent conceded. “So I’d have to stalk him until he was and then flay him alive.”

Bill’s lips twitched, looking away as she watched his throat tremble.

“I can look out for myself,” she promised. “Gran didn’t bring me up to be completely unhinged. I do understand self-preservation.”

“Joe gave you a weapon,” Bill challenged after a moment.

“A penknife,” she rolled her eyes. “Family heirloom.”

“One you used to bind Malfoy Junior to you,” he pointed out. “I’d say not to do it again.”

“But you aren’t stupid,” Millicent elbowed him gently.

“I try not to waste my breath,” he agreed.

“I still don’t fancy you,” she mentioned, snuggling into his side.

“I didn’t think you did,” he hummed. “I’m too old.”

“You are,” she agreed, breathing in deeply. “Maybe when I’m older.”

“When I’m truly decrepit,” he laughed softly.

“You aren’t terrible, just,” Millicent nestled.

“You aren’t terrible either,” he pressed a kiss onto her hair.

“Ugh, you love me, bleargh,” she pretended to gag, squealing as he dugs his fingers into her side.

“Oh yes, truly you are the scourge of my existence,” Bill snorted. “I will confess that I’ve become enamoured with the lifestyle. It’s been an education.”

“Just wait,” Millicent grinned. “It only gets better.”

They sat bickering in the early evening sun, until Molly called them in for supper, huge platters of cold meats and breads filling the table, as everyone descended like a plague of locusts to demolish it.

“Mum said I could work some of the time again,” Ginny whispered in her ear, whilst a roaring argument about the best quidditch teams raged around them. Fleur had very definite ideas that Ron disagreed with, and the Twins were delighting in stirring the pot.

“Definitely,” Millicent agreed. “You probably don’t want to help with Joe’s farm though.”

Ginny frowned.

“First job is cleaning out the pig pens,” Millicent winked at her. “Ask Mopsy how bad I smelled doing the cow shed.”

“MISS MILLICENT IS NOT DOING THAT AGAIN!” Mopsy shrieked having heard over the cacophony.

“Elf!” Snape snarled, standing up like a giant crow. “What have I told you about screeching at the table.”

Millicent could’ve sworn she heard someone mutter hypocrite, and Lupin smacked the man next to him.

“Miss Millicent is not to be cleaning pigs!” Mopsy squared off to Snape.

“Millicent is cleaning out pigs,” Millicent corrected. “Joe’s paying me a fortune to do it, and you’ll get a couple of wheelbarrows of manure if you’re lucky.”

“Pig manure is no good,” Mopsy thrust her hands on her hips. “Mopsy spent too long making Miss Millicent smell like a girl again. Mopsy not be wanting to do that again.”

“I can wash myself,” Millicent shrugged.

“No!” Mopsy stamped her foot.

“Mopsy,” Molly frowned. “Severus, please sit down.”

“Miss Molly!” Mopsy threw her hands up in the air. “Mopsy be needing Miss Molly to help!”

“Mopsy,” Millicent scooped her up. “Excuse us while we have a chat.”

She didn’t wait to be excused, rolling her eyes at Ginny as she made her way back out to the smoking wall, carrying a squirming Mopsy who ranted nonstop.

“Fucks sake,” Millicent sighed, plopping Mopsy on the wall. “They’ll kick us out if we don’t calm the fuck down.”

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy shrieked, biting at Millicent’s hand as she covered Mopsy’s mouth.

“You’ll need to sharpen those teeth if you want to draw blood. Behave.”

She counted to ten, before starting to take her hand away. “Don’t shout.”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy hissed.

“If you don’t stop it, I’ll punish you by bathing in pig shit every day for the rest of the summer,” Millicent warned.

Mopsy burst into tears.

“Try me,” Millicent stood firm.

“Mopsy will clean pigs,” Mopsy stated, through giant sobs.

“Nope,” Millicent purred. “It’s good for me. It’s strength and endurance training.”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy wept.

“And I’ll particularly enjoy it, out of spite,” Millicent leaned forward and grinned with teeth in Mopsy’s face.

“Terrible girl,” Mopsy sniffed.

“I know,” Millicent kissed her on the cheek, ignoring Mopsy’s half-hearted giggle. “We’re going back inside, you are going to apologise to everyone, including Snape, and we are going to do our best not to cause a scene for the rest of the meal.”

“Does Mopsy have to?” Mopsy pouted.

“Yes,” Millicent placed her back on the floor. “Do you want to be carried in, or will you walk like a better Timmy?”

“Mopsy be knowing how to walk!” Mopsy looked aghast at the insinuation.

“Do you want to be carried?” Millicent asked, raising an eyebrow. Mopsy lifted her arms, and Millicent lifted her up until she rested on Millicent’s hip.

Mopsy’s apology was muttered into Millicent’s chest, not looking at anyone at the table, until Millicent sighed.

“Mopsy be sorry,” Mopsy sobbed. “Mopsy not be meaning to be bad.”

“We will be having words about treating elves like children,” Snape scowled at Millicent.

“Sir,” Millicent didn’t roll her eyes, even as Bill winked. She didn’t put Mopsy down, sharing a plate as they finished off eating, chatting to Ginny about their current plans for jobs over the next couple of weeks.

“Ollie’s arranging with Professor Snape and Bill when’s best for you to do work experience,” Percy let her know as they moved through to the living room, leaving the kitchen table to board games.

“Oh?” Millicent cuddled Mopsy who’d fallen asleep after all of the drama.

“Bill’s made plans already, and the Professor is your legal guardian,” he bit back a yawn, glancing through to the kitchen where Fleur was trouncing Ginny and Harry at cards.

“But I’ll be able to?” Millicent glared as she also had to bite back a yawn. He nodded, this time giving a jaw-cracking yawn. “Fleur love, time to go.”

“It’s still light out,” Ginny pouted.

“It’s after ten,” Percy slipped his hand into Fleur’s. “Thanks, Mum, we’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Percy love, Fleur,” Molly gave Percy a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek, before giving a more subdued hug to Fleur who blossomed under the attention.

“Bleargh,” Millicent mumbled into Mopsy’s sleeping body.

“Time for hellions to go to bed too,” Bill offered a hand to her.

“Night Molly, Arthur,” Millicent allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, snuggling into Molly’s warmth, and happily hugging Arthur.

She didn’t remember much beyond carrying Mopsy up to the bedroom, and crawling into bed. She woke to voices in the kitchen, Mopsy insisting on a bath before they headed down to investigate.

Bill was busy cooking a fry up, whilst Charlie drank tea at the kitchen table.

“Morning sleepyheads,” Bill greeted them.

“What time is it?” Millicent pulled a face as she caught sight of the time. “It’s six, on a Saturday. What fresh hell is this? First day of freedom and you’re up at stupid o’clock.”

“I woke up with the sun and popped over,” Charlie looked unrepentant.

“Did you not hear the tractor?” Bill grinned.

“No, because I know not to listen to them unless I’m in a field or walking on a lane,” Millicent hopped onto the counter, stealing a bit of mushroom out of the pan. “Mmm bacony.”

“Joe said to save the bacon grease to cook with,” Bill hummed, cracking a few eggs into the pan. “Runny?”

“Please,” Charlie poured a cup for Millicent and passed it over.

“It was mentioned you head to the reservoir first day of summer,” Bill said, glancing at Millicent. “Charlie’s in the mood for a walk.”

“Sounds good,” Millicent agreed, stealing some more mushroom, dodging the spatula as he swatted absently in her direction. “We’ll need to make up some sandwiches. Get the flask out as well. Are you coming too?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Bill turned to mock glare at Charlie. “And you can keep your opinions to yourself too. I’ve been working on my endurance.”

“I wasn’t going to say a thing,” Charlie snorted. “Walking though, not running. I can’t run that distance in one go. I can do maybe half an hour at most.”

Millicent grinned. “Maybe next time.”

“We’re not running,” Bill warned. “I’ve been working on walking, not running.”

“I’ll get George to run with me, Fred wussed out after a week,” Millicent shrugged.

“He did look leaner,” Charlie collected a plate of food off Bill, moaning as he started eating. “You’ve grown too.”

“I do that,” Millicent agreed. She’d taken her penknife to a pair of cotton trousers that used to be the right length and turned them into mid-thigh length shorts. Mopsy hadn’t been overly pleased, but they were comfortable and cool. Her t-shirt that would’ve covered her shorts completely now barely covered her midriff when standing. According to the wall chart she’d grown another four inches since last Summer.

She was pretty impressed with Bill, not so much with Charlie who spent most of his days walking a lot, but Bill kept up. Didn’t even complain when she took them on a mini diversion to point out a river where if they’d brought towels, and swimming costumes, they could’ve swam. It was only when they got to the reservoir she realised that both men could’ve just popped back to get them.

It took just over four hours to do the 12ish mile walk, not the quickest Millicent had ever done it, but still not terrible. They’d looked a bit blank when she’d dragged them over to look at the bus timetable.

“We’ve got an hour before we need to be back at the bus stop,” she explained patiently. “Guessing you don’t want to walk back.”

“We can just, go, back,” Charlie waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, when the bus arrives,” Millicent patted him on the arm. It was a wonder how any of them made it through the day at times.

“Milly,” Bill laughed, flashing his wand discretely. “We can head back whenever you want.”

She felt her cheeks flush as it twigged what they actually meant. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t consider it as an option.

“Tell me we don’t have to walk around it though,” Bill added as she headed to the path that led off to a circular walk.

“Well, if we don’t have to do any more walking…” she teased through flushed cheeks. “There are benches about a minute away, we can settle down and have lunch.”

“An actual minute?”

“Come on old man,” Charlie jostled his way around Bill’s reluctant figure. “Race you.”

Charlie started running, spurring Millicent on to sprint after him, Bill walking sedately at the back. Millicent had the upper hand as she actually knew where the benches were, hidden around a bend and slightly up off the path, Charlie over shooting until he noticed she was no longer behind him.

“Cheat!” he laughed, jogging back, making it in time to see Bill appear.

They had a pleasant lunch, sitting in the late morning sunshine. The water so still that the hills reflected seamlessly. The path became more popular the longer they stayed.

“Done?” Bill checked as Millicent put away her book, having finished it for the third time since he’d bought it for her, a delightful crime caper with plenty of death and gore to match.

“Probably should be heading back,” she agreed, gently nudging Charlie who’d gone into a bit of a trance, staring out at the water.

“Sounds good,” he nodded after a moment. “Lovely spot though.”

“I like it, I come a few times over the summer,” she agreed. “You won’t even need to walk it next time.”

Chapter Text

Settling back into summer was easier. Spending weekends at home, meant that Millicent didn’t feel the same overwhelming urge to stalk around the village seeing everything. Instead, she washed Betsy, did some weeding for the Smith’s and then after reassuring Ginny she really didn’t need to help clean the pigs out, left home for three days and camped out at Joe’s.

Bill popped by in an evening to make sure she was fine, keeping his distance as even hosing down at the end of the day didn’t do much for the stench. Mopsy claimed to be far too busy, which suit Millicent fine. Instead, she got to focus on shifting large quantities of shit into the pig slurry Joe kept to turn it into high-value fertiliser. The pigs were out in their pasture fields, enjoying the summer showers, whilst Millicent scrubbed their homes clean. By the time she was finished, not even Mopsy could complain.

“Coming home?” Bill asked as Millicent finished hosing down the pens for the final time.

“Still need to white wash them,” she grinned at him, blowing the stray strands of hair off her sweaty forehead. “Then I promised to help set up the old milking shed for turkey keeping.”

“You could sleep at home,” he offered, placing down a pint of water on the wall for her.

“I could,” Millicent agreed, downing the water in one.

“But you’re going to sleep out again,” he glanced at the tarp she’d got hanging up for when it rained.

“Pretty much,” she grinned. “The moment I go home Mopsy’s going to have me in a bath for a week, so..”

He laughed, keeping her company as Joe called them in for dinner, roasted lamb that she fell madly in love with once again. She also got to witness Bill moan as he tasted it for the first time, and blush. He suited a blush.

She grinned at Joe who pretended not to hear a thing, falling into gossiping about the latest livestock auction instead.

Whitewashing never took long, neither did prepping for turkeys, even when she took her time as not to have to go back to Mopsy’s iron claws. She managed to eek out an extra night of sleeping under the stars, with Miss Oliviette finding her to sleep on top of, before heading home.

“Mopsy?” Millicent called, staring at a different house elf in her kitchen.

“Mistress!” the female elf shrieked. “Mopsy be telling Mistress not be back yet.”

“Bill?” she called, keeping an eye on the unknown elf who seemed to be wearing one of Millicent’s old t-shirts.

“Mistress,” another elf wearing one of Millicent’s old t-shirts appeared from the living room, this one was male and older.

“MOPSY!” Millicent bellowed, blinking as another male elf, again not Mopsy appeared, wearing more of Millicent’s old clothes.

“Mistress,” they all just stood staring at her with big eyes.

“Where the flaming fuck is Mopsy?” Millicent asked, cursing the fact that Bill didn’t have a phone she could call to get him to come back.

“Mopsy is out,” the oldest male answered.

“Of course, she fucking is,” Millicent muttered. “Snape’s actually going to kill me. No doubt about it. Does Bill know about this?”

“Mopsy be making sure we be out of the way,” the female chirped, staring at Millicent.

“I bet she fucking has,” Millicent scowled at the ceiling. “I’m going for a bath. When she reappears, tell her - in fact, no, don’t tell her anything.”

The female elf appeared timidly in her bedroom, as Millicent started to strip off.

“Mistress, Winky be helping?”

“You can fill the tub,” Millicent agreed. “I can wash myself, but I will call when the water needs changing.”

“Yes Mistress,” the elf bobbed into a little curtsey. “Winky be listening.”

Even having washed with a hose to get most of the muck off, the water was grim by the time Millicent scrubbed herself with the flannel. Getting out wasn’t a chore, neither was sinking into fresh hot water thanks to Winky. The third bath turned the water only a little grey, and the fourth she actually could relax into, enjoying the soft scent of mint and lemon.

Winky was surprisingly good at washing her hair, having managed to convince Millicent to allow her to stay after the third bath, and quietly pottered around the bedroom as Millicent just soaked for the final time.

“Milly?” Bill shouted up, and Millicent cracked an eyelid open to watch Winky freeze in terror.

“In the bedroom - in the bath,” she answered. He’d walked in on her more than once, and they’d agreed that he’d call and she’d warn as Mopsy didn’t see any issue with it.

“I got fish for tea, I’ll keep it warming for you, want me to wait?”

“Sounds good,” Millicent answered lazily, slowly standing up and accepting the towel from Winky. “I’m just getting out now.”

She allowed Winky to dry her hair, before pulling on a summer dress that wasn’t horrifically obscene. “When I call you, bring the others.”

“Yes Mistress,” Winky gulped.

She made her way down the stairs, grinning as she spotted Charlie pouring a cup of tea from the teapot.

“Mopsy back yet?” She asked casually as Bill set the table.

“No?” he answered. “Got you two fish, and there’s plenty of chips.”

“Brill,” she grabbed a glass of water. “How was work?”

“We managed to crack a devious curse,” he grinned, “One we’d not seen in a while so it’s gone in the vault.”

“How about you?” She asked Charlie who was busy buttering some bread.

“Didn’t see a dragon,” he sighed dramatically. “Wasn’t too terrible though, did get to chat with a Centaur about potential sightings.”

“How about you?” Bill asked as she sat down at the table.

“Finished up at Joe’s,” she hummed, taking two of the fish and letting the men take what they wanted from the chips before stealing the rest.

They ate in easy silence, all of them licking their fingers at the end, before retiring outside so Charlie could have a smoke. “So…” Millicent hummed, perched on the wall, staring up at the house.

“So?” Bill flicked ash off.

“Did you know we have three extra house elves living at the house?” Millicent asked casually, enjoying the choking sounds from both men. If only she liked to smoke, she could take a drag and enjoy the cinematic drama of it.

“Guessing that’s a no,” Millicent took a drink of her tea instead. It wasn’t as cool as taking a drag, but still pretty cool.

“Three extra house elves?” Charlie asked first.

“Winky?” Millicent called, taking another sip of her tea. There was a small pause before three house elves crept out of the house coming to a standstill in front of Millicent.

“Kreacher? Dobby?” Bill asked, still half coughing.

“Master Bill,” one of them squeaked, the other just looked cross.

“Which one is which?” Millicent asked casually.

“I be Dobby,” Dobby squeaked, puffing his chest out.

“Kreacher,” the older male looked uncomfortable.

“Does Harry know you’re here? Does Sirius?” Bill asked, after Charlie thumped him on the back.

“Dobby was free elf,” Dobby hedged.

“No then,” Millicent mused, looking at her now empty mug with a sigh. “Wait a minute, I need more tea.”

“Winky be getting for Mistress?” Winky squeaked, inching closer to Millicent.

“Why not,” Millicent hummed, handing her mug over. “Anyone else want some tea?”

“Sure,” Charlie agreed, and Bill sighed before nodding.

“Three teas, and if you want a tea get some,” Millicent instructed.

“Does Sirius know?” Bill asked again.

“Kreacher was free elf,” Kreacher huffed.

“That’s a no then,” Millicent blew air out of her cheeks. “How about Winky? Was Winky a free elf too?”

“Winky was free elf,” Winky answered, appearing with three mugs. Three more appeared in the elves hands. They all seemed a touch more relaxed with something to hold onto.

“Snape’s going to kill me, and eviscerate Mopsy,” Millicent sighed, taking another sip of her tea. “Put my exam results on my gravestone, I worked hard for those results.”

“Fucking hell,” Bill stared at the three elves.

“Yep,” Millicent agreed. “I’ve had several baths to come to my current state of nirvana.”

“We’re going to have to tell Mum at the least about this, Severus too,” Bill stared.

“I know,” Millicent took another sip.

“Four elves,” Charlie whistled. “Not even sixteen and you have four elves.”

“Apparently so,” Millicent chewed on her bottom lip. “This time last year I didn’t even have one.”

“Where is Mopsy?” Bill asked.

“Out,” Millicent answered. “She told Winky I wasn’t going to be back.”

“Is Mopsy in trouble?” Winky squeaked.

“I think it’s gone a little bit past trouble,” Millicent hummed, glancing at Bill. “I might be wrong. Where are you all sleeping?”

“We be sleeping in the attic, Mistress,” Winky answered after neither male answered.

“Right.”

“How are you going to do this?” Charlie asked Bill. “Want me to go and get Mum now?”

Bill winced. “I think we wait until Mopsy reappears, get some answers and then we go to Mum and Severus.”

“Quick question,” Millicent leaned forward. “When you say Mistress, are we talking you belong like Mopsy does?”

There was a quick glance between the three elves.

“Is that a silent yes, or a silent no?” Millicent checked as Bill exhaled sharply. “Mopsy get your skinny arse back here right now.”

“Mopsy is busy Miss Millicent,” Mopsy appeared hands on her hips.

“Oh I don’t think so Missy. I do not think you have any room for this attitude,” Millicent hopped down to stand in front of her recalcitrant elf. “Explain yourself.”

Mopsy paused, clearly considering the best way to deal with Millicent, with her eyes opening wide only to scowl as Millicent hissed. “Miss Millicent said Mopsy could get help.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Millicent hissed. “Don’t you even think about spinning this into me doing this. I said I wouldn’t hinder you trying to win the stupid nonsense competition. At no point did I tell you to bind three more elves to me.”

Mopsy shrugged.

“Ugh! Mopsy!”

“Miss Millicent not hindering, Mopsy be winning.”

“Bill!” Millicent grabbed onto his hand as her ears started going a bit cloudy.

“Breathe,” he hummed, a warm hand gently rubbing her back. “Charlie - get Mum.”

“On it,” she vaguely heard Charlie agree, her head buried into Bill’s chest as she tried not to lose the plot with Mopsy.

She took several long shuddering breaths, inhaling his comforting scent before feeling centred enough to risk straightening up. The three new elves were semi-cowering behind a frightened Mopsy, who still hadn’t lost the scowl, although it didn’t look as convincing as before.

“I’m going to tear the garden apart,” she said quietly. “I’m going to salt the very earth. You will never win any competition.”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy’s voice quivered as she fell to her knees, tears falling silently.

“You’ve gone too far,” Millicent shook her head, she felt cold inside.

“Please,” Mopsy sobbed.

“You did this deliberately,” Millicent fought to keep the cold calmness. “You lied to Bill, you waited until I was gone to do this. How am I supposed to trust you? I asked you, I asked you again and again if there was anything else going on. And you go behind our backs and you do this. You need to seriously consider if this is the place for you, because I honestly don’t know how you could do this.”

“Milly,” Bill rubbed her arm. “Enough for now, before you say something you regret.”

“She lied to us,” Millicent turned to face him, appalled at the tears running down her cheeks.

He wiped them away gently, tugging her into a hug. “Mopsy, can you take the others into the living room for the time being. Just until we get this sorted.”

“Yes Master Bill,” Mopsy sobbed. Millicent didn’t check to see if she did.

Bill hummed gently, rubbing her back as she ugly cried against his shoulder. She knew she was being stupid, she’d taught Mopsy how to lie, how to prevaricate, but she’d not considered Mopsy would genuinely do it to Millicent. They were - well she’d considered them more than friends.

“I don’t know what to do,” Millicent whispered hoarsely, her breath catching as she fought back the tears.

“We’ll talk to Mum,” Bill kissed her hair. “She’s got plenty of experience dealing with unruly teens who go too far.”

“She’s not a child,” Millicent scrubbed her hand across her nose, accepting the hanky he handed her.

He was suspiciously quiet, and she pulled away a bit more to look at him. “What?”

“Well,” he tilted his head. “She’s just mimicking you, in a lot of ways.”

Millicent felt her heart plummet. “No - it’s not a bad thing.” He hastened to add.

“It sounds like a terrible thing,” Millicent pushed him away from her.

He gave a faintly amused look. “Look, it’s something I could see you doing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Malfoy?” he arched a brow.

“He needed taking down a few pegs, and it was getting dangerous if he wasn’t,” Millicent puffed up.

“All I’m saying, maybe, just maybe, she’s following an example,” Bill held his hands up, a small smile dancing around his lips.

“I would never!”

He just looked at her. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“We don’t know why Mopsy did what she did, maybe she has a better reason?” Bill coaxed gently. “She’s not bad, she’s just, ambitious.”

“She lied. Outright lied and manipulated.”

He waited her out. “I try not to lie!” she hissed. “Most of the time.”

“This is probably the first time Mopsy has outright lied, and I’m not convinced she’s even done that,” Bill said.

“She manipulated the situation - I don’t think we were even supposed to know about them!” Millicent hissed again.

“I would raise you Malfoy again,” he countered.

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am,” he soothed.

“You know I won’t be the only one in trouble with Snape about this.”

“I’m aware,” Bill sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, the amusement of earlier disappearing. “We need to find out exactly what the situation is. And if they are bound to you.”

“Fucking hell,” Millicent screamed into the evening sky. “Ugh. Why have you gone so pale?”

“I’ve had sensitive information in the house,” he replied.

“That was stupid,” Millicent muttered. “What if I’d read any of it?”

He gave her a look. “Alright, I wouldn’t have gone looking through your stuff. Still, what if someone broke in?”

“The house is better warded than most safe houses,” he said.

“What about if Joe had walked in?” She knew Joe did sometimes. And others from the village.

“Notice-me-not charm on my work stuff,” he replied. “Works on Muggles.”

“How sensitive?” Millicent asked with dawning dread. She knew he was involved in something, with Snape, Lupin, Dumbles and the Weasley Parents. It was hard not to know, for all they kept it hush-hush.

“Very,” he met her gaze. “I’d prefer not to have to tell you.”

“But you would if I asked?” she checked.

“I’d check with Mum and Severus first,” he said honestly.

“Not Dumbledore.”

“No,” he gave a half smile.

“Will you tell him about this?” Millicent didn’t look at the house.

“Not if I don’t have to,” he said, looking tired. She couldn’t help but reach out to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” he hummed softly. “I’m going to use you as a shield.”

“Bastard,” she half giggled. “I can just take you outside to the smoking wall, and then we can come in and apologise and it’ll be all ok.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

Molly and Arthur arrived within the hour. Without Snape. They didn’t say a thing as to why he wasn’t there, but he wasn’t. Bill didn’t seem overly surprised. Millicent wished it meant that he wouldn’t kill her at a later date, somehow she doubted it.

Millicent also wished Snape not being there meant Millicent wouldn’t be in trouble. She was slightly unsure if that was true or not.

“Miss Millicent said-“ Mopsy was crying her eyes out.

“Did Milly implicitly tell you that you were the head elf?” Arthur asked patiently. Molly was in the living room with the three other elves. Mopsy’s interrogation was a kitchen affair.

Mopsy opened her mouth.

“Implicitly tell you?” Arthur repeated.

“She meant it,” Mopsy stood her ground and Arthur took a breath.

“Did Millicent use the words to say “Mopsy you are my Head Elf?”” Arthur worked around it.

Mopsy opened and closed her mouth wordlessly.

“This is not a trick question,” Arthur said calmly. “Please answer honestly.”

“Miss Millicent be not using exact words,” Mopsy bit out, and Millicent released the breath she’d been holding. “But Mopsy be knowing is what she meant.”

“Knowing?” Arthur asked.

“Mopsy not be able to take on more elves without it,” Mopsy ground out. “Miss Millicent allowing Mopsy to be mated. Mating is for head elves.”

Bill touched Millicent’s hand gently, as Millicent paled. She hadn’t known that, she didn’t even know what having a head elf even meant. Other than they could run riot apparently.

“Mopsy found strong mate, be having many strong elflings,” Mopsy puffed out her chest. Millicent couldn’t help but glance down at Mopsy’s flat stomach, she hadn’t a clue on elf biology. “Mopsy not be yet, mate be needing feeding first. Needing to be stronger, needing to be eating well like Mopsy.”

Well, that was terrifying.

Truly terrifying.

Shit.

She was going to need to talk to Blaise after all about Mopsy. So far the Weasley’s had been completely useless at preparing her for living with a house elf. Snape was no better. Blaise might not let her down. Or Percy. Percy knew all sorts. But Blaise owed her, and Percy was currently busy being Fleur’s bitch.

She zoned out as Arthur tried to prise more information out of Mopsy. Millicent was more concerned with Bill’s implications earlier.

“Mopsy?”

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy looked hopeful as Millicent cut across Arthur.

“Are they only mine?” Millicent tapped her thumb against Bill’s.

“Only Miss Millicent’s,” Mopsy wrung her hands together. It wasn’t reassuring.

“What about their previous owners?” Millicent checked. For all the free elf speak, they had to have come from somewhere.

“All be free elves,” Mopsy looked puzzled. “Free elves not be beholden to any but themselves. Not like Mopsy, stuck at Hogwarts until Miss Millicent daringly rescued her.”

“So they couldn’t tell anyone about what goes on in the house?” Millicent checked, Bill, holding steady.

Mopsy paused, considering. “If Miss Millicent be saying not to be telling, then not be telling. Miss Millicent needing to be careful, not all elves to be trusted like Mopsy.”

“Bill?” Millicent decided to beard the dragon. “I might need to know.”

“Mopsy can be telling, Mopsy be knowing all secrets of Miss Millicent’s betrothed,” Mopsy perked up. “Mopsy be making sure she be knowing, making sure Miss Millicent be safe.”

Bill hissed softly. “Of course you do.”

“Not being funny,” Millicent glanced at Molly who’d returned, and Arthur. “You kinda need to do something about the fact that whatever secretive thing you’ve got going on, isn’t secret from the house elves.”

“Only from Mopsy, Dobby and Kreacher, and now Winky,” Mopsy chirped. “No other elves be knowing, except maybe Hogwarts head elves.”

“Dobby be knowing secrets from bad house too,” Mopsy stated confidently. “Miss Millicent asks and Dobby be telling. Mopsy be guessing bad house not be stopping Dobby from returning either, Mopsy not be stopped from returning to her bad house. Mopsy not returning where she is not welcome.”

Millicent stared at Bill who cursed under his breath.

“Mopsy,” Millicent thought very carefully about how she was going to word it. “Can you find Blaise?”

“Miss Millicent’s friend?” Mopsy tilted her head. “Not be hard. Drenched in Miss Millicent’s magic.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Millicent mumbled under her breath. “Mopsy, can you kindly ask Blaise and his mother if they could visit us. Now? If they are free. I would like it if our new elves did not leave, or communicate with anyone other than the four of us until Blaise arrives. I would also prefer it if you did not share any information about anything that happens in this house, village, or anywhere that the Weasley’s have been, with anyone other than myself, until I have spoken to Blaise and say you may.”

“Mopsy be doing,” Mopsy beamed at Millicent. “Mopsy be forgiven?”

“No,” Millicent shook her head. “Not at all.”

She steeled her heart to Mopsy shrinking. “Mopsy be going?”

“Yes,” Millicent nodded firmly. “If they can’t come immediately, ask when we can expect them. Remind Blaise he owes me.”

“Mopsy will,” Mopsy gave her a pitiful look, before disappearing.

Millicent scrubbed at her scalp, tugging her hand free from Bill’s. “Look, I know I’m too young and all that jazz, and it’s shit. But this whole thing from the beginning has been a bit shit. And apparently, we are woefully under-prepared to be dealing with any of this. So - just give me the bare bones of it. Because if I don’t know, then I can’t stop it from spreading.”

“We’ve failed you,” Bill sighed.

“Yeah,” Millicent agreed, moving to lean against the wall. “You have. So tell me what I need to know.”

“We’re working with Dumbledore to stop Voldemort,” Bill said quietly.

“Well, I guessed that much,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “It’s not like Harry’s going to be on that side of things.”

“Percy isn’t involved with Dumbledore,” Bill winced. “Charlie has since refused to as well.”

“Seems sensible,” Millicent glanced at Molly. “I get that he’s a big name and all that, but I wouldn’t trust him further than Ginny could throw him.”

“Better the devil you know.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Joe,” Millicent watched Bill. “Is there an alternative?”

“Not currently,” Bill sighed. “Not yet.”

“I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him with you, any of you. He doesn’t care about anyone except whatever gets him what he wants, and from the outside, it just looks like power.”

“He’s the only thing stopping Voldemort,” Molly finally spoke.

“Really?” Millicent asked disbelievingly.

“At the moment,” Bill admitted.

“Is there anything I should know?” Millicent asked.

“Not without talking to other people,” Bill checked with his parents.

“What can I say to the Contessa?”

“She is aware of our affiliation,” Bill sounded more confident.

“Well she’s definitely not on the other side,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Malfoy wouldn’t have pissed Blaise off as much if they were on the same side.”

Although saying that, he probably would, the git.

She pondered pressing for more information, Bill would probably crack at this point, but he’d also promised to tell her more when he thought she was ready. So instead, she put the radio on, poured more tea and grabbed Mopsy’s lemon drizzle cake, which wasn’t better than Mrs Smith’s no matter how much Mopsy claimed it was, and settled down to wait. Patiently ignoring the silent conversation between the Weasley family.

Cricket wasn’t any more exciting on the radio than in person, and it reminded her that she no longer had to be busy when Joe offered to get them tickets to a local match. Instead, she could get Bill to go instead, or even Arthur. Arthur might not have the patience to sit outside for a whole day, or he might.

“What are you planning?” Bill murmured as she found herself staring at Arthur.

“Joe goes to the cricket every summer, do you think your Dad would like to go?” she asked, stealing another slab of cake.

“We’re all going,” Bill’s expression cleared.

“I’m not.”

“It’s going to be a lad's day, Joe’s hiring a minibus, even Ollie’s coming,” Bill grinned as she heaved a sigh of relief. “Joe said we shouldn’t take Timmy.”

“Not unless you hate yourselves,” Millicent snickered. “We could take Timmy to the seaside though. Once I’ve passed my driving test.”

“Maybe,” Bill hedged, breaking off half of her piece of cake. He winked as she huffed. “Not bad this time. She used less lemon.”

“Hmm.”

“Blaise?” He stole another bit of her remaining half, holding his hands up as she tried to give him the quarter left.

“He’s offered a few times to help with Mopsy, except I stupidly claimed there was nothing wrong with having Mopsy run riot,” Millicent huffed again, nibbling on the piece he offered to her lips. Now he’d mentioned it, the lemon was a lot lighter than the last time she’d tasted Mopsy’s cake. Less eggy too, and not as grainy. “I can bake a better lemon drizzle than this.”

“What dear?” Molly asked as she and Arthur rejoined them at the table. “Oh, the cake. We’ve had some experimentations with different flours. I believe this batch was done with locally milled flour, the same as Adelaide uses.”

“She’s been baking it for decades,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “She also uses lard.”

“Mopsy’s determined to master it,” Molly smiled gently. “She’s taken it as a personal affront.”

“She takes everything as a personal affront,” Millicent muttered, ignoring the soft snort from Bill. “That’s the problem.”

“And you don’t,” he teased.

“No, not on the whole. I don’t get upset if someone runs faster than me in cross country, because if I did, I would be permanently upset because Mary and Gilly win competitions. Or if someone can do a trick better than I can do with a yo yo, I just want to learn it too,” Millicent kicked lightly at his leg.

“Of course,” Bill grinned. “How silly of me to think otherwise.”

“Look you,” she narrowed her eyes.

“She’s very much your elf,” he said unrepentant.

“I know,” Millicent sighed. “That’s the problem. I don’t want to turn into one of those wretched people who abuse their elves. Granger would protest outside the common room, and I would never hear the end of it from Blaise.”

“Setting boundaries isn’t abuse,” Molly rested a hand on her shoulder.

“What do I do when she ignores them?” Millicent whined. “What did you do to Bill when he was naughty?”

“I was never naughty,” Bill lied, outright laughing as Millicent stared in disbelief at him. “I was a perfect child, which is why they had more. Sadly they never reached the same heights again.”

“Percy is pretty much perfect, Ginny’s not bad either,” Millicent stuck her tongue out.

“The wind will change.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Millicent asked sweetly, giggling as he mock scowled. “How badly do you think Snape’s going to kill us?”

Molly was saved from answering by a knock on the front door, Mopsy shrieking that she got it. Bill snorted as Millicent muttered under her breath about demented house elves.

“Miss Millicent, Contessa Zabini and young Master Zabini to see you, Mopsy be taking to receiving room,” Mopsy squeak shouted officiously, from the front door.

“Living room,” Millicent mumbled, offering Bill a hand up as she stood. “I thought we’d managed to rename it living room again.”

“Not around guests,” he murmured, offering her his arm. “We are respectable people after all.”

“So respectable.”

“I can get Charlie back,” he grinned.

“So he can smoke awful knockoff smokes and make me want to smoke them too?” Millicent blanched as Molly gave her a look. “But I would never smoke, because that’s what louts and reprobates do. And I’m sure it wasn’t even Charlie, more like Henry from two villages over. Terrible influence on us young people. Joe’s always telling me to not have anything to do with Henry. Isn’t that right, Bill?”

“I’m not an idiot dear,” Molly sighed. “They take after their father.”

Arthur looked momentarily guilty, Bill winking slyly as the elder Weasley’s led the way, whispering in her ear as they followed. “He smokes in the car when he’s alone.”

Chapter Text

Miss Oliviette was already drooling on the Contessa’s lap as they entered the room. Millicent held off the envy, instead focusing on Blaise who looked ridiculous.

“It’s not Paris Fashion Week,” she rolled her eyes as he grinned. “I’m stealing Blaise, back in a bit.”

“Stealing?” Blaise sniffed.

“And we’re stealing Bill’s trainers, you can’t walk around the village in - are those Grecian sandals?”

“I’m impressed you even know what that is,” he chirped, hooking an arm around hers. “I bet Mother you’d call them Roman.”

“Blame Muggleclub.”

He did look absolutely daft, his jewellery alone probably cost more than Gran’s house. If they ran into the Vicar he’d have kittens, or demand the largest donation in the history of the church. “Where were you going?” She asked as he reluctantly pulled on a pair of Bill’s socks, before slipping his feet in the battered trainers.

“Darling Millicent, here of course,” he hummed lightly, the diamond rock in his nose sparkling in the dull light of the stairwell. He had three more on his left ear. The anklet now covered by cotton socks, but the bracelet was weighted with numerous dainty charms. The thick gold and beaded collar against his gleaming dark skin and kohl eyes, coupled with a black tunic and gold threaded belt made him look almost Pharaohesque in appearance.

“Were you going to a fancy dress party?” one with real gems and gold. She knew he had money, or his mother did, but this was insane.

“No,” he looked momentarily confused.

“You normally dress like this?” she checked again, unsure if they should even leave the house in case he fell over and damaged it.

“Well, I normally have my own shoes on,” he offered her his arm. “Shall we leave the adults to their boring conversations?”

“Blaise,” the Contessa chided with the faintest whiff of annoyance. Blaise merely laughed.

“We’re going to be walking, through the outside, where it’s dirty,” Millicent warned. “You can get changed into some of Bill’s clothes.”

“Are you embarrassed?” he narrowed his eyes.

“I mean for you,” she stuck her tongue out as he tried to jab her. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone will mug you, but still, what if any of it drops out? Or gets broken?”

“It’s charmed.” She could practically hear the duh at the end of that. “Don’t you think it suits me?”

“You don’t look terrible,” she shrugged. “If you are a million per cent sure then it’s on you.”

“You do care about me,” he grinned. She bit back a growl, instead opening the door and shepherding him out. They looked a right pair, her in bleach-stained shorts and a t-shirt with only three extra holes, and him decked out to the nines.

He kept up reasonably well as she forgot to slow her stride on the way to Joe’s. She had remembered not to just head across the fields.

“Joe gave me the penknife,” she pointed at the farmhouse.

“So a veritable hero,” Blaise hummed, head tilted as he looked at the farmhouse.

“He’s family,” Millicent said as plainly as she could. “He’s good. Better than almost everyone.”

The trip up the first hill went better than it had with the Weasley’s the first time, Blaise was able to breathe by the time they made it to the crossroads of the village. She was somewhat impressed.

“I do try and keep in shape,” he laughed catching her confusion.

“I’ve never seen you bother,” she admitted. He was trim enough, not overly muscled, more like George than Charlie. Lean, long fluid stride. “Run?”

“Not like you and the other heathens,” he bent over and started a sprinting start, before scowling at the bits of gravel coating his hands.

“What did you expect? It’s a road?”

“I can get myself out of trouble quick enough.” Ignoring the hanky she offered him.

“The Smith’s live here,” she pointed out, glancing up at the cloudless sky, the sun beating down on them. “How energetic are you feeling?”

“How many more hills are you going to make me climb?” he asked suspiciously. He could talk, but he was shining with more than mother-of-pearl dust.

“That’s why I’m asking,” she winked. “Need a drink?”

“Have you some hidden upon your personage that I’ve been unable to spot?” he frowned, exaggeratedly glancing over her form.

A knock on the Smith’s door, and a jug of cold squash and some ham sandwiches were thrust at the pair of snakes who perched on the Smith’s wall, with a whole loaf of lemon drizzle wrapped in waxed paper to take back to their elders. Blaise eagerly devouring the homemade bread with less elegance than he normally showed at the dinner table.

She took pity on him and took them the shortcut to the church, slipping into the church to steal some more water before taking him into the graveyard.

“Meet my dad,” she flopped down next to his grave. “Dad, meet Blaise. He’s not bad for being a pillock.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Blaise did a stupid bow before settling down next to her, careful to avoid the Hendry plot next to them. “Lovely spot.”

“Isn’t it,” she hummed. “There’s space for me here, and Gran.”

“Mother has a crypt,” Blaise said. “The scenery isn’t as pretty.”

“Not sure you can find a better place than this.”

“Perhaps not.” They sat in relative silence, the wind keeping the heat just about manageable. “So.”

Millicent closed her eyes, “So, Mopsy.”

For once he kept quiet. “She went and hired three more elves and hid them from us hoping we’d never find out.”

“Oh,” Blaise started next to her. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“She’s courting so she can have babies,” Millicent added.

“She’s not already?” Blaise sounded more surprised by that, and Millicent cracked an eye open to look at him. “She’s obsessed with babies.”

“She says she isn’t, says her mate needs to get stronger,” Millicent groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me that they can do that?”

Blaise just stared at her. “Honestly?”

“It’s not like anyone said, here’s your new house elf, by the way, she’s going to want to have babies, and also she’s going to hire whomever she likes without a care in the world,” Millicent glared at him.

“I offered to help,” Blaise looked unimpressed.

“You said you’d help fix her,” Millicent hissed. “She didn’t need fixing.”

“Because it’s working out well so far.”

“Fuck you,” she flared.

“It’s not an attack,” he held his hands up.

“It feels like you are.”

“Not everything is an attack.”

“Well, sometimes it is,” she deflated a little. “It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid. Everything breeds to reproduce. But I thought, maybe, just maybe, they lived until they got killed off by shitty wizards.”

“You aren’t completely wrong,” he allowed. “But they have to come from somewhere.”

“They don’t teach this,” she could feel herself getting pissy again, so she took a deep breath.

“No,” he agreed. “They also don’t teach us how to count to ten. Or how to tie a tie. Or how to avoid being eaten by the giant squid.”

“Don’t fish in the same spot every day,” Millicent offered. “Or is that crocodiles?”

He snorted, leaning back onto his elbows. “It is a pretty place.”

“Not knowing stuff means I might have put Bill in danger,” she admitted quietly. “I need help.”

“Mother knows almost everything there is to know about the raising and keeping of house elves,” Blaise offered. “And how to keep them from rebelling and overthrowing a regime. From the side of overthrowing rather than the overthrown.”

“Mother has earned every title afforded to her, some by marriage, and some by conquest,” he offered a toothy grin. “You’ll like her.”

Millicent eyed him carefully. “How many titles does she have?”

“She holds minor royal titles in a couple of Scandinavian countries, has sizable stakes in three or four significant multinational companies, is a Marchioness somewhere or other, Patron to two notable charitable organisations, and most importantly to mother, Contessa. It is the one she takes most pride in,” Blaise stretched out. “None of the titles will pass down the family line, sadly.”

“Oh no, whatever will you do,” Millicent murmured.

“Exactly. Which is why Mother is insistent on achieving greatness through education, so I have something to fall back on,” Blaise laughed as she snorted. “And a tiny, insignificant trust fund, but other than that, just my wits to keep me steady in this cruel unfortunate world.”

“You could sell what you're wearing and still have more than most,” Millicent closed her eyes. “And you just need to do better than Malfoy.”

“Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Isn’t that what Greengrass said?” Millicent couldn’t help herself.

“No dear, she said, shouldn’t it be hard,” Blaise radiated amusement. “Mother will help.”

“I guessed,” Millicent hummed. “What with her agreeing to meet up with the Weasley’s.”

“Oh, no that was purely to meet you,” Blaise sat up. “She’s been interested in meeting you since Yule.”

“Oh?”

“The rumour mill did run rife,” he replied sweetly.

“Oh, the murdering Umbridge rumour? The one where she was still in school whilst I was at home, and is still working in the ministry?”

“Well, it is a good one,” he admitted. “Helped keep some of them in check. There are a few first years who still believe it.”

“As long as someone believed it,” she muttered.

“All of Gryffindor did,” Blaise grinned at her. “The ones who aren’t Weasley adjacent at any rate. Even Malfoy was trying to sell it to them.”

As Blaise started to go into all of the rumours past and present regarding Millicent, she guided them up and out onto the lane, heading down towards the Village hall, pointing out the best place to roll eggs, in case he was interested in such things. He claimed not to be.

“We won’t go in unless you particularly need to, but this is where the key currently is being kept,” she pointed to a broken flagstone. “Just don’t let the Vicar see you. His hidden key is under the rock in the blue and pink Hydrangea next to the back door.”

Which was slightly better than hanging it up inside the porchway to the back entrance like the old Vicar had for a few weeks. Easy to find, for everyone, including whoever broke in and drank all of the fortified wine and left the bar bare. The uprising from the blue rinse brigade, of which Gran was most certainly not one of, caused the old Vicar to lose key privileges for half a year. For a Protestant Church, there had been a lot of forgiving of sins for the congregation for a good while after the event.

She quizzed Blaise where the keys were, nodding as he subtly gestured to them. “There is a cellar under the stage. It’s not noticeable if you don’t know where you’re looking. Which would be under the fourth strip of carpet counting from the oval window to the east.”

She kindly took him back down the lane without forcing him to climb the hill in the heat, instead pointing out shortcuts that he could potentially take if he had a need to. His skin had gone from sheen to dripping by the time they got back to Gran’s, even after popping in to say a quick hello to Daisy and Timmy - and more importantly, let Blaise have another drink.

“It’s a different type of heat,” he hissed at her as she didn’t say a thing about the state of him.

“We walked fast, faster than I do with Ginny, the sun's out and there’s no breeze,” Millicent patted him gently on the shoulder. “We’ve done a few miles in it. No shame in a bit of sweat, I’m sweating.”

Not as much as Blaise, her t-shirt had a few dampish spots but nothing like the dark spots on his tunic. She also wasn’t wearing a ton of gold. “Want to borrow some of Bill’s clothes?”

He looked thoroughly disgruntled as she tossed a damp flannel at him. “You could borrow a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt, have a wipe down, and you won’t feel so grotty. I’m going to pop upstairs to have a quick wash and change before joining the adults.”

And hopefully, by the time they were finished, the adults would have finished their super secret talks, and they could tackle the Mopsy problem.

“I’ll ask Mother,” Blaise huffed, toeing off Bill’s trainers and socks and marching into the living room.

Winky appeared the moment Millicent started to strip off in the bedroom, with a basin of cool water scented with, “Is that honey?” Millicent sniffed again.

“Elderflower,” Winky squeaked.

“I didn’t think Elderflower had a smell,” Millicent hummed, scrubbing her body down with a clean flannel. “It’s not terrible. What happened to the lavender?”

“Miss Oliviette is not be liking,” Winky bobbed nervously. “Mopsy be waiting for more to be sent. Elderflower be bringing blessings to household, and be warding off evil spirits.”

“Of course,” Millicent hummed again. “It is important to ward off evil spirits. Who knows what they’d get up to if we didn’t ward them off.”

“Mistress be wise,” Winky squeaked, vibrating as Millicent accepted a cotton dress from her. “Mopsy be saying Mistress be wearing special clothing.”

“And what makes this special?” The fact that she’d be able to sit down and not flash the room perhaps, or that her cleavage didn’t fall out the top. It was a pretty pale blue that used to be a lot more vibrant before Millicent’s lack of prowess in the laundry had hold of it.

“Winky be thinking it be bringing out Mistress Millicent’s eyes?” Winky asked.

“Thank you, Winky,” Millicent said with a half grin, bending over to look in the small hand mirror. As far as she could see it didn’t as such do anything to her greenish eyes, but perhaps elves saw something different. A quick tug of a brush through her hair and she was ready to be properly introduced to the Contessa. Well, as ready as she could be.

Chapter Text

Miss Oliviette drooling and kneading the Contessa’s lap, as Millicent rejoined everyone, wasn’t what she expected. Miss Oliviette, the best cat a girl could ever ask for, liked to be around people. She didn’t enjoy being on laps, unless of course, they were already occupied by a paper or a book. Miss Oliviette liked to sleep with Millicent, between her legs, behind her knees, and sometimes even on her back making it difficult to adjust without disturbing the precious ball of fluff. She didn’t seek out empty laps, and she didn’t knead to the point of drooling on actual laps.

And yet, as Millicent bent to greet the Contessa properly in the European way, she couldn’t help but close her eyes briefly, breathing in deeply, soaking up the salted sweetened scent, the warmth of life, the silken smooth skin. Swallowing subtly, she sat down, closer than she’d normally to a stranger, ever so slightly smiling.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

“More than welcome to join us to go to the cricket,” Bill carried on, with Blaise looking somewhat intrigued. “Joe’s trying to get us to form a local team, just over the summer, if you’re interested.”

“You never said,” Millicent snuggled closer, her hand stroking the soft silk shift.

“Blaise will be honoured,” The Contessa said with a soft sternness that had Millicent swaying slightly.

“Better than polo,” Blaise huffed. “I do look stunning in white, and Fiona’s father enjoys the sport.”

“Does he?” Millicent asked. It seemed an overly Muggle sport for a pureblood.

“He’s heavily involved with Ealing,” Blaise answered. “Fiona has a passing interest, more so than polo, she hates horses, one tried to scalp her as a child.”

The room went silent as the Contessa sighed, Blaise looking faintly sheepish. “Sorry. I’d love to join, I do try to pick up a sport during the summer hols.”

“It’s not going to be too far to come?” Millicent asked suspiciously.

“No,” he answered blithely.

“The Contessa is looking to rent a place nearby for the summer,” Molly answered with a beaming smile. “Bill mentioned Joe has a couple of old workers cottages in the village, that he might want to rent out to a friend of the family.”

“They’re a bit small,” Millicent glanced at Blaise in his gold. “You’d be better off asking Daisy if she’d like to move into one.”

“What a good idea!” Molly clapped her hands together.

“No- it was a joke! Farra’s is a dump! Daisy’s only living in a couple of rooms while she tries to get it less death trappy,” Millicent suddenly backpedalled. “And you don’t know that either, because I promised I wouldn’t tell you, or Joe - please don’t tell Joe. Daisy really doesn’t want anyone else knowing the state of the place.”

“That poor dear,” Molly clucked. Millicent could see the wheels spinning, as Arthur had a silent conversation with his wife. “Well, leave it with us.”

“Molly,” Millicent begged. “You can’t say anything.”

“No dear, of course not,” Molly agreed with a growing smile that Millicent didn’t trust for a second. Molly should’ve been a Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff’s couldn’t do anything but want to help people in need.

“Perhaps we should talk about Mopsy?” Bill suggested as Millicent started squirming.

“Yes!”

“You have a boundary issue,” the Contessa addressed Millicent with gentle firmness.

“I didn’t think I did.” A glance at Bill’s face had her cheeks flushing. “Maybe I did, or do.”

“Is it something you desire to be solved?” The Contessa’s brown eyes bored deep into Millicent’s soul.

“I have to, for Bill’s safety,” Millicent admitted. She could live with rebellious, she could even live with subterfuge once she calmed down, but she couldn’t put Bill, put the Weasley’s in harm way for Mopsy’s discomfort at a few actual rules. There had to be a line somewhere. Millicent needed to draw a line somewhere.

The Contessa took one of Millicent’s cold hands in her warm grip, and gently guided her through the pitfalls of owning elves. The rest of the room fell away as the Contessa explained how punishments didn’t have to mean decapitation or beatings. That a gentle scolding could achieve more, especially for an elf as devoted to their Mistress as Mopsy.

Washing mouths with soap wouldn’t bring the same results as it did with Millicent, but the feeling of disappointing Gran, or Molly, she could relate to that.

“Professor Snape keeps telling me I shouldn’t treat her like a child,” Millicent half asked as for all the Contessa said, it sounded very much like they were in many ways.

“It is a very human trait, to treat everything with the human gaze, even for those who aren’t human,” the Contessa hummed. “And yet, there are similarities. They grow as humans do, they fall in love, they hate, they anger, they lie, they can go to extraordinary efforts to protect those they choose to. Such as Dobby. He went against his Master to protect young Mr Potter.”

Millicent frowned, glancing at Bill who merely nodded. A story for another time perhaps.

“Wizards forget that elves are intelligent, have lives of their own for all they are bound to households. Much like aristocracy forgets that servants are more than servants.” The Contessa flashed a smirk. “A loyal happy servant will protect the household from those who might try to bring it down. An unhappy servant will betray at the first chance they get.”

“Call Dobby,” The Contessa instructed.

“Mistress called,” Dobby appeared, shifting nervously as Millicent called for him.

“Your Mistress would like a china teacup from Lady Malfoy’s morning tea set,” The Contessa addressed him. Dobby didn’t quite look at Millicent, before nodding and disappearing away. “Wizards forget that elves exist unless they need them.”

Dobby appeared again with the finest bone china teacup Millicent had ever seen, it glimmered with gold detailing as Dobby placed it very carefully on the lace doily Mopsy must’ve brought out of retirement again.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Millicent smiled at him. “Contessa, is there anything else we need from Dobby?”

“Where is Lord Malfoy at this exact moment?” The Contessa asked.

“Dobby not knowing,” Dobby squeaked nervously.

“Is he at the Manor?” Dobby shook his head. “Could you check his holiday home?”

Dobby disappeared, reappearing minutes later, after the Contessa explained that the first rule of owning an elf, was to remember that it could go anywhere belonging to the owner. And that at the end of it’s service, it should have permission removed. And warding to block any attempts to return in place.

“Lord Malfoy is being busy with Lord Nott,” Dobby answered, wringing his hands together.

“Thank you, Dobby,” the Contessa nodded.

“Expect that an elf will know all the secrets of a household. They see and hear everything, and most importantly they remember. It is in their best interest too. I’m sure Dobby knows all sorts of nasty little secrets that Lord Malfoy would wish to be kept undisclosed,” the Contessa purred, with Dobby all but vibrating. “Dobby, your Mistress would like to know a secret.”

Dobby squeaked, his ears drooping until they could be tied beneath his chin. Millicent checked with Bill who looked lightly uncomfortable but gave a minute nod.

“Please, Dobby.” Millicent offered him her hand even as her skin crawled at putting the elf in the situation to begin with.

“Lord Malfoy has a squib lover,” Dobby shrieked, accepting the pull into Millicent’s arms as she dragged him into a hug.

“Thank you,” The Contessa smiled fiendishly. “Dobby will know many secrets, it will be up to you if he is to share them. However, Dobby, you are not to share any secrets learned with any but your Mistress, past, present or future.”

“Dobby not sharing with any but Mistress,” Dobby nodded violently.

“I would advise that Dobby remains out of sight to all but those deemed safe,” the Contessa continued, addressing Bill rather than Millicent. “You may find it useful to have access to the Malfoy estates, a reminder of Dobby might prompt Lord Malfoy of the security threat.”

“You can return to the others,” Millicent whispered to Dobby, patting him on the shoulder as he checked with her before disappearing off.

“The others will also need to be aware of the new rules. Kreacher has ties to the Black Family, of which Lady Malfoy is one, as is her sister the deviant Lestrange. You will need to check what Winky has access to, as the Crouch family has a reputation. As for Mopsy,” the Contessa softened again.

“Mopsy,” Millicent called, Mopsy walking slowly into the room, tears causing tracks in the caked on mascara.

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy sniffled.

“The previous household you belonged to, the name please,” the Contessa addressed Mopsy.

“Harpendon,” Mopsy answered. “The Devon branch.”

“Light family,” the Contessa nodded, with Bill giving a small shrug. Molly seemed to recognise the name although Arthur looked a little blank. “The German Harpendons have a seat on the Durmstrang governors board, and the Austrian branch has a seat on the IFW. Rumours of wealth from unseemly sources are quashed but have a nasty habit of recurring. There is a lesser Spanish branch, a tendency for squibs but still canny enough with business.”

The Contessa hummed gently. “Were you a Lady Harpendon elf, or family elf?”

“Family elf,” Mopsy bobbed, creeping closer to Millicent.

“Your Mistress would like the fourth book from the third shelf in the second bookcase in the first Harpendon library,” the Contessa instructed.

“Please Mopsy,” Millicent wasn’t sure if she was supposed to ask or instruct, so it came out like a strangled question.

It took a minute before a glossy leatherbound book appeared at Millicent’s side. Duino Elegies, she was fairly sure it was German, though she’d never heard of the author before.

“She should return it?” Millicent checked with Bill who gave a small nod. “Mopsy can you return it without being caught?”

“Mopsy be doing so,” Mopsy gave a hopeful smile before disappearing off.

“And this is why when you cast out an elf, you stop them from being able to return.” The Contessa looked pleased all the same.

“If you told any of the elves to do something for me, would they?” Millicent asked carefully. “Even if I wasn’t there?”

The Contessa looked almost approving. “Oh, good girl. Blaise did mention you were sharp. Depending on their loyalty, you might be able to convince an elf to do something for their Mistress with0ut their Mistress being aware. The trick is to make sure that this doesn’t happen.

“If you trust your betrothed, then he will be able to do so, but make sure anyone who can instruct without your knowledge you trust with not only your life, but those of your loved ones. You have plenty of wards, however, I would suggest, especially after last year's Crouch incident, including polyjuice, metamorphagus, animagus, mimicking charms and mind-altering. To your credit, you are betrothed to a Curse breaker who works for Gringotts so it shouldn’t be beyond your means.

“A list of suggested wards, ones that I employ upon my own properties and businesses will be forwarded unaltered,” the Contessa nodded genteelly. “If you entrust a personage with rights, you are able to revoke them. Remember to do so the moment trust is broken.”

“Tea?” Millicent asked after looking at Bill for guidance, escaping into the kitchen the moment there was an agreement from the adults.

Winky perched on the stairs with Kreacher and Dobby hovering behind her didn’t help either. Somehow, up until the Contessa pointed it out, it hadn’t felt creepy having an elf. And now. She shuddered, feeling chilled even as the sun continued to radiate heat from up on high outside.

“Alright?” Bill asked quietly, appearing behind her as silent as a mouse.

“No,” Millicent breathed.

“Anything I can do?”

“I don’t know?” Millicent filled the kettle, letting the warm water from the tap run over her fingers as it overfilled. “Cut the cake?”

He made a noise of agreement, slicing Mrs Smith’s cake into thick slabs and placing them on the tiny plates Millicent was fairly sure were saucers for fairies. That’s what Gran told her when she was a youngling. The older she got the less sure she was Gran had been lying.

“It’s wrong, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Being able to get them to do things without them being able to say no.”

He winced. “They have ways around doing things they don’t want to do.”

It didn’t help, but for now, it would have to do.

Chapter Text

Apparently when someone is rich, and has access to unrestricted magic, getting rid of damp from an old farmhouse actually wasn’t that hard. Daisy’s plan of hiring industrial dehumidifiers went out the window, saving her months of saving. The Contessa had the place dampfree within hours of officially moving in. And not only that, Daisy confessed, was paying a fortune to stay there too. More than enough to cover the rent of her new place and some leftover too.

Millicent helped Daisy relocate into one of Joe’s cottages by keeping Timmy occupied, and then unpacking the kitchen when he finally went to bed, in his brand-new bedroom. Complete with a racing car bed! Millicent didn’t know such things even existed, but according to Joe, that room had always had a racing car bed in it. Joe wouldn’t lie. She did mention that she’d like a waterbed if any of the other cottages happened to have one, having heard from Daisy that they were a thing. Joe had laughed.

She didn’t see much of Blaise, getting caught up with the preparations for Mary and Gilly’s wedding which crept up far faster than expected. They had a combined hen night on Canal Street, Manchester. Complete with a lesbian-appropriate stripper, who was very tasteful, Millicent hadn’t even needed to look away.

She’d declined several kisses from everyone but the women of the hour, the feeling of lipstick coating her cheeks disgusting. Still, everyone seemed to have had a fabulous time. Or at least that’s what she was told, repeatedly, in increasingly slurring exaggerated outrageous tones. And Millicent hadn’t even been the tallest! They’d bumped into a gang of Queen’s finishing a shift at a Drag Bar, and the platform boots on two Queen’s had them topping Millicent’s lofty height by a good inch.

She also had several leaflets to see local bands, after confessing her love for live music, and a promise of protection from a very fat, short Queen who did an excellent Vera Lynn impression that had Millicent in fits of giggles. Gran would’ve loved it.

She was more than pleasantly surprised by the bridesmaid's dresses, buttercup yellow cotton summer dresses that rested at the knee. Because if they were having to buy dresses, then the girls should be able to wear them for more than one occasion.

Bill had already promised to take Millicent to the seaside with hers afterwards. It had the right amount of swish. As a surprise, Millicent, had at the suggestion of one of the other bridesmaids, asked Mopsy to fashion together Hufflepuff tights, which they all wore carefully as even with copious amounts of charms, the almost spider silk material snagged and ripped.

The look on the Brides’ faces though, as the seven bridesmaids gathered sporting Hufflepuff colours was enough to make several days worth of effort worth it.

The library was chock full of people, half of whom Millicent recognised, the other half clearly family from both girls. Mary’s contingent dressed in an array of colourful outfits ranging from Western to Eastern styles, whilst Gilly’s were united under the clan colours, with Gilly sporting a clan sash across her matching lehenga to Mary’s. They looked stunning, and Millicent wasn’t ashamed to say she burst into tears as they stood in the middle of the library, surrounded by friends, family and loved ones, announcing to all they held dear, that they would love, cherish and support each other from there on out.

She did, however, threaten Creevey Senior after she spotted him taking photos later on when they’d moved to a local primary school’s sports hall for the reception. She’d known that they’d asked him too, but there was no need to take photos of Millicent crying for that.

Bill sat with the Weasley contingent, as being friends with Mary’s family meant that Bill didn’t have to be Millicent’s plus one. She wasn’t sure how Blaise managed to get an invite, but he was sat with Audrey - who’d kept her attendance under wraps, and the Cross Country gang.

Dennis, Dennis the little shit was supposed to be helping Creevey Senior, but instead seemed to be constantly near her. He kept offering to get her drinks, he’d first tried to buy her one until it was pointed out by one of the other bridesmaids cooing that the bar was a free one. And Millicent wasn’t old enough to drink. Not that it stopped Bill from handing her a cheeky little bacardi and coke after she’d pouted at him.

She danced with every single Weasley, even Ron, who didn’t stand on her feet once which considering the rumours from the Ball, was a blasted miracle. Blaise claimed a dance, Audrey claimed three, and Audrey’s beau Tomislav, who turned up for the evening festivities sheepishly asked.

The Brides spent the entire night on the dance floor, switching between all of the guests frequently, and finally, after Millicent downed another very cheeky bacardi thanks to Charlie, she allowed Dennis to have one dance. The little shit.

She could’ve sworn Creevey Senior kept catching them in photos, even after she’d scowled at him. Dennis wasn’t a terrible dancer, in fact, if she didn’t know any better she could’ve sworn he’d taken lessons.

“And then I mastered two through the legs,” Dennis chattered at her as the music came to an end.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she asked suspiciously, looking down at him carefully. He’d shrunk a bit, if he’d destroyed his bollocks it could’ve affected his growth.

“Not at all, I was very careful,” Dennis beamed up at her, shuffling forward as a surge of the older generation joined the floor for Brown Eyed Girl. She spied Gilly singing the lyrics to a blushing Mary, and Bill chatting to Audrey by the buffet table.

“I doubt that,” she hummed, shuffling to accommodate more people dancing. He took it as an invitation to another dance, and having glanced to check if anyone reliable was available to rescue her, to which the answer was no, she sighed and span him around. “I’ll lead this time.”

He made a weird noise, complete with a body shudder, chattering at high speed as she frowned at him. “I wanted to sign up as a leader next term for the club, I’ve been told I’m a good leader. Not as good as you but I want to be.”

“Ugh,” Millicent shrugged, dancing them closer to Bill and Audrey who were now laughing. Worse still, Fleur and Percy were heading in their general direction.

“I’ve been running too, I’m nowhere as fast as you, but I’m going to keep practising and sign up for Cross Country. You’ve not got many of our house in the club,” Dennis chirped, beaming at her.

“Because it’s not heroic,” Millicent agreed, frowning as Blaise sauntered over to join the danger crew.

“Do you think you could do the through the legs and spin me?” Dennis asked with wide eyes as she cursed when George moved away from Fred in the general direction of the ball of chaos brewing.

“What?” Millicent momentarily distracted, as Dennis pointed at an older couple, who looked like they might be from the Gilly contingent, did some more athletic moves, including hip sits. “Shouldn’t be too hard for me, you’d never be able to.”

“I could,” he was practically buzzing.

“I’m sure you could, but not with me, maybe with one of the tots running about,” Millicent hummed. “Though going off how shit you are at times keeping hold of a yo yo, best not put you in charge of a child.”

“You are leading,” Dennis wheedled. “Come on, it looks fun.”

“You want me to throw you around the dance floor, in front of witnesses? Witnesses who will hold this over your head for the rest of the time they know you?” Millicent frowned at him. “Do they scramble your brains when you pick the stupid house?”

“Milly,” he whined. “I’ll never get another opportunity, and the songs almost done.”

“On your head be it,” she sighed, moving them into a slightly more open space, making sure there was no one in hitting distance. “Alright, keep calm, don’t tense up, and I’ll keep hold of you.”

She wasn’t sure what the big deal was. She span him around like a little spinning top, swinging him through her legs and then side to side on her hips before twirling him around for the end of the song. And then she proceeded to do so for five more small children who all wanted a go. She got that slightly more, she remembered Joe doing similar things when she was much smaller. Joe and the others.

“You could’ve swept me off my feet,” Audrey slapped her on the arm when she finally convinced the septet of children that if they span anymore they would be sick, and escaped to find out how much damage her traitorous friend had wrought.

“I didn’t want to make anyone jealous,” she sniffed, grinning as Audrey kissed Tomislav’s cheek, interrupting his conversation with Charlie about dragon scales.

“How much have you had to drink?” Bill asked quietly, as Audrey decided to hang herself off Millicent’s neck, whilst babbling to Blaise about Paris and a little bakery they both knew and adored.

“Two,” she promised, holding up two fingers. “Charlie’s was stronger than yours, but still, with the amount of food I’ve consumed, it’s practically nothing at all.”

“Having fun?” he moved a little closer, with it looking merely like it was George making room for the pink-haired girl who’d accused Percy of cheating.

“Yeah,” she nodded, sighing happily. “They’ve not stopped smiling all day. If they were anyone but Hufflepuff’s their cheeks would ache for weeks afterwards.”

He ruffled her hair gently, chuckling as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’ve been warned that my biggest threat is in the room,” he mentioned casually, as George snorted beside him. She’d missed what the pink one had said but it must’ve been hilarious.

“I mean, I’m not even sure why she’s here,” Millicent muttered, why Catbag turned up to a Hufflepuff wedding, she didn't understand. She got why Flitwick was there. Mary was one of his star students, and he was into the more athletic side of Hogwarts. As was Hooch, who was supposed to be officially the professor overseeing Cross Country. She only turned up at the start of the year to lay down the law to the newbies and then they never saw her again. And Sprout, obviously, because Mary and Gilly were everything good about Hufflepuff. She even understood why Lupin pitched up because Lupin was a giant sap who kept snuffling all the way through the wedding vows.

Snape sent a wedding present through Millicent, an unsigned present, but a present all the same. Why Vector was there was anyone's guess, as far as Millicent was aware neither girl had taken Arithmancy. Burbage was in her element though, discussing the Apparatus attached to the wall with Hooch and how all good Muggle schools had one, and Hogwarts should invest in one.

Still, there were an awful lot of the Hogwarts staff. And she was fairly sure she’d spotted one of the most beautiful men in the world lurking at the back of the ceremony. And a couple of Aurors, going off the discrete badges pinned to the underside of collars.

“Bill?” she whispered having definitely spotted five now she started to look properly, gently dislodging Audrey from her neck to hand her back to Tomislav.

“Everything alright?” he asked with a small frown.

“Why are there so many Aurors here?” she asked quietly. Pink hair definitely was, and now she was looking, the man from the icecream parlour, Kingston? Kingsley? He was standing near to Catbag.

“Precaution,” he murmured, his expression clearing.

“Oh.” Not a lot else to say. “Makes some sort of sense.”

Bastards.

Blaise pulled her onto the dance floor for a second time, the scandal, to a slow dance of all things. Bill didn’t seem too worried, not going off his burst of laughter as Audrey sidled back up the moment Millicent stepped away.

“You look like you want to kill someone,” Blaise commented, keeping a safe distance as they danced.

“People suck,” Millicent muttered, pasting a smile as they went past Mary and Gilly.

“They do,” he agreed. “These people don’t as much.”

“Except for the bag, why is she even here?” Millicent groused, as they neared the Deputy Headmistress.

“Same reason as the rest of them,” he answered. “It’s a happy occasion, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Mary isn’t white, she would’ve been Head Girl.”

“Bastards,” Millicent resisted spitting.

“At least you pass,” he scoffed.

“It’s called a tan, but point,” she deflated. She was fairly pleased with how much sooner she’d berried up this summer. She didn’t suit the cooler bluer tones in her skin, or at least that was how Audrey described it. Millicent looked ill pale, she looked the healthiest during the summer months.

“Could you imagine Malfoy with a tan?” he asked with a sly smirk.

“Please, we all know he burns to a crisp the moment he steps outside. The amount of creams he puts on to play quidditch it’s a wonder a broom can support his weight.” They both grinned, Millicent relaxing. “So, do you want to be Head boy?”

He considered it. “If we don’t kill anyone this year, we might manage it.”

“We?”

“Have you not had your prefect's badge come through yet?” he asked with a sly grin.

“Snape’s still upset about Mopsy and the others,” Millicent snickered. “Seventh-year prefects are changing as well this year.”

“Oh?” Blaise started heading back to the gang.

“Durmstrang and Beauxbaxtons,” Millicent waggled her eyebrows. “That’s the whispers floating about at any rate.”

Blaise deposited her back by Bill, before holding a hand out to Tomislav, tugging him onto the floor as Audrey snickered.

“Why is Blaise stealing the future Mr Dubois?” she asked through giggles.

“Told him about Atkin’s heading to Durmstrang for Seventh Year,” Millicent grinned. “I suspect he’ll pester you about Bowlers later.”

“Bowler’s is heading to Beaux’s?” Audrey leaned forward. “I’ll need to let Hazel know. You know Bowler’s older brother was in the same year as Hazel. They had a bit of a thing, lost touch but maybe they could reconnect.”

“Isn’t Hazel happily single?” Millicent checked. She could’ve sworn Audrey had told her all about her older sister's singledom status, and how she was leaving the future of the Dubois family in Audrey’s more than capable hands. Millicent only hoped Tomislav was prepared for the amount of children Audrey wanted. Mopsy more than approved of Audrey’s future plans, and repeatedly brought it up as she got broody.

“She could be happily single with a Bowler,” Audrey suggested with a grin.

Chapter Text

Ollie collected her from outside Gringott’s at 8:30 more or less sharp. Snape would’ve called it less, but as they weren’t starting until 9, Millicent wasn’t complaining. Nor had she complained about the special breakfast Mopsy and Winky came up with for her first official day of work experience. She hadn’t wanted to point out it wasn’t her first day of work, and she wasn’t getting paid. It was nice, especially as Bill was taking her out afterwards with Ollie to celebrate. And Molly was doing a special tea on Sunday.

“Don’t leave the building without letting me know, otherwise Snape will have my balls,” Ollie grinned at her as she rolled her eyes. “Diana will be your boss for the day, she’s a PA to an executive who's having a couple of weeks at the Priory. If you run into any trouble, speak to Diana first.”

Millicent was handed a lanyard with a hastily cut-out Polaroid photograph that actually looked a reasonable amount like her, and introduced to the security guards who were blocking access to the stairs and lift.

“This is Carol, Carol is a goddess who knows all, and Janice, Janice is her goddess in training. These ladies control the building behind their wall of security. No one enters without their permission, not even the Queen herself. Ladies most divine, this is Millicent, my best friend's newly acquired little sister. She has fallen into the arms of Music herself and is here to abase herself in these hallowed halls to learn all she can.”

Carol, a woman who Millicent would’ve put in her mid-sixties tutted at Ollie, who’d not stopped batting his stubby eyelashes at the two receptionists, whilst Janice, a slightly younger lady who Millicent would hazard a guess at 50, if not slightly older merely laughed.

“Lovely to meet you both,” Millicent held her hand out cautiously, holding steady as she was given the once over.

“Little sister? Has Percy shot up since he was last here?” Carol asked dryly. “Don’t cause as much trouble as this one, and we’ll have no bother.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promised, ignoring Ollie in case he’d heard exactly how much trouble she’d gotten herself into.

Going up 10 floors in a lift was a different experience, especially as busy as it got as they passed the fourth floor where the better of the two coffee shops (according to Ollie) was located. All comped by the Music Company. He assured her she’d get used to going become very acquainted with it and carrying vast amounts of drinks about the place.

Diana looked more like catbag, and Ollie snickered as she shot him a look. “No relation, promise.”

“Young Oliver gave me the same look,” Diana smiled kindly, and suddenly Millicent couldn’t spot the similarities at all. The old bag never looked at Millicent kindly. “You’ll be with me for the day, and young Oliver will collect you at the end of the day.”

Ollie nodded, patting Millicent on the shoulder before scarpering down the long shiny corridor back to the lift.

“Now then, you may call me Diana, and I will call you?” Diana asked with a smile.

“Millicent, although I do answer to Milly,” she answered honestly.

“But you would prefer Millicent?”

“It’s what my Gran prefers,” Millicent offered as an explanation. She’d grown to hate Bill or the Weasleys calling her Millicent, especially Molly, it made her squirm as if she was in trouble. In general though, she still much preferred her given name.

“Millicent it is then,” Diana nodded decisively. “Now young Oliver has sung your praises, so I’m sure you will find yourself a home here. He wasn’t entirely sure about how old you were, however?”

“Fifteen.” The urge to add a Miss on the end was strong, and Diana’s lips twitched minutely.

“Well, a little young, but you don’t seem the sort to be easily frightened off.”

“No Miss,” Millicent agreed before blushing. “Sorry, no Diana.”

“Young Oliver still slips,” Diana laughed gently. “Whilst we try and keep a respectable establishment, the very nature of the beasts we call Musicians can be somewhat beastly. You may be exposed to things that you shouldn’t be. If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, please attempt to remove yourself, and if possible find a responsible member of staff. This is not just due to your age, this rule applies to all members of staff and our artists. We are trying to move on from the days of utter depravity.”

Millicent nodded, only slightly curious as to what Diana meant by utter depravity.

“If anyone offers you something to take, I would advise against it, we do try and encourage a drug-free environment. The staff bulletin has gone out advising that you will be with us three days a week and that you are a student. However I’ll make sure to alert all department heads to feed down how young you are.” Diana frowned. “Please do not flirt with people, and if someone tries to with you please let them know how young you are.”

“I’m in a relationship,” Millicent informed her and gained a grandmotherly smile in return. She was near enough in a relationship anyway, and it worked relatively well at keeping unwelcome attention at bay so far.

She was taken on a tour and introduced to all of the important people according to Diana, which seemed to be almost everyone in the building. She was also warned about who had wandering hands, and those wandering hands were firmly told that Millicent was very much underage and that the cameras were recording 24/7 and had been installed in all of the storage rooms and stairwells.

Millicent took note of the gleam in a Malfoy lookalike as he heard Diana’s warning and seemed to take it as a challenge. However, as he was based on the third floor, with advertising, Diana claimed she wouldn’t have much to do with that department at all.

“Advertising, a necessary evil.” Millicent wasn’t sure she completely agreed with the sentiment considering that Ollie swooned over how the advertising team had managed to push one of his team's artists from a top forty entrance into the charts to the top ten. In his words, the artist in question was good but not top ten good. Apparently, they were a good gigging artist but hadn’t anything yet to take them into mega-stardom.

She thoroughly enjoyed her first day. And Ollie hadn’t been wrong, the moment they returned back to Diana’s desk, Millicent was sent down to Fourth to get Diana a tea with three sugars, and whatever Millicent fancied. The young lad behind the counter suggested working her way through their artisan drinks, which she took with a pinch of salt, until he convinced her to try a virgin sunrise, which after her first sip, she downed immediately, much to his amusement. It was worth waiting for another to be made.

Lunch with Diana, consisted of meeting up with the other PA’s and Carol, and being filled in with how many songs each of them had amassed. Apparently, falling in love with the execs pa’s was common in the Music scene, and Diana alone had three albums dedicated to her over the course of the last thirty years.

She learnt the fine art of photocopying, stapling, and moving boxes, happily listening to all the conversations that buzzed around her ears. Diana knew all the gossip, all of the gossip, and any she didn’t know it seemed was shared with her almost immediately.

“Leo’s calling it quits,” Rosemary from the Fifth Floor contracts department was perched on Diana’s desk, having come up to collect Diana’s proxy signature. Millicent hadn’t a clue who Leo was, but going off Diana’s stilling, it was important gossip.

“Did he say why?” Diana asked sharply.

“Wants to be with the kids,” Rosemary waggled her eyebrows, whilst Diana frowned.

“That utter bitch,” Diana hissed. “Apologies Millicent.”

Millicent pretended not to have heard, ducking her head at Diana’s look of disbelief. A phone call later, Millicent was sent out to get more drinks from Fourth with an instruction to take her time. The sparkling peach puree made her nose wriggle, tarter than the sunrise but no less delicious, leaving her wanting to try the pineapple and lime next after Eric suggested it as her next foray.

She returned to the office with the pineapple concoction, which having stolen a sip in the cafe was even more delicious than the sunrise, and another tea with three sugars for Diana, passing a green-haired speccy man with suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, and a smug looking Diana who was putting down her telephone.

Millicent had kept it a secret, having decided that anything she learnt from Diana, was probably under the same non-disclosure she’d signed before being allowed in the building. Ollie, on the other hand, as he joined them for tea later on, gossiped like the village elders. He’d not talked much about work up until then.

“Diana wanted to know when you were next coming in,” Ollie grinned at Percy who was doing his best to untangle his bag from the table having been squished in as Charlie, George and Fred appeared after it was decided they’d go bowling after eating.

“She did,” Millicent agreed. “She’s very upset that you’re no longer single as her niece has recently separated from her ex, and they’ve spent a fortune on hiring an old Abby for the wedding.”

“We could get married in an Abby,” Fleur perked up.

“I thought we were getting married near the ocean?” Percy blinked owlishly, before flushing a deep red as he realised what he’d said. It devolved into chaos, with back-slapping, cheering, preening from Ollie on keeping it a secret and floods of tears as Fleur revealed her engagement ring, a small silver band with a sparkling blue gem that matched her eyes, well according to Percy at any rate.

“When?” Millicent asked after Fleur had stopped crying, and Percy was deep in conversation with Charlie and Bill.

Fleur stared at Percy with such intensity he looked up and smiled a sickeningly sappy smile, she almost joined George in gagging. “Next summer, so all our family can be there.”

“Why wait,” someone asked and Millicent wanted to punch them as Fleur sparkled at the idea. Millicent could think of lots of reasons why they should wait, even if Percy looked wonderingly at Fleur. If they didn’t get married before Millicent was forced to return to Hogwarts she’d eat her bloody robe.

Diana was a little upset when she told her. According to Diana, which concreted Millicent’s opinion that Diana was a lady of outstanding taste, Percy was a lovely young man. Janice looked a little upset too as Diana shared the information, because, according to Diana, Janice had a daughter who she despaired over. Percy hadn’t taken the news that the PA’s all thought he was a respectable match as a compliment. Even though he was. Millicent wouldn’t mind if Audrey got married to Percy, although she did like Tomislav who did have a decent enough life plan.

She had passed on Diana’s niece’s information so that Fleur and Percy could visit the Abby. Millicent hadn’t been surprised to hear that whilst Fleur loved it, they’d declined to take over the contract after finding out the date for the wedding was in October. Instead, The Burrow was filled with magazines and brochures, with every time she turned up to see Gran, there were more samples and clippings pinned to the board now living in their living room. Ginny was tearing her hair out, choosing to hide out at Gran’s even when Millicent was in London working. She’d even volunteered to babysit Timmy several days a week.

Millicent was staying well out of it, her contribution was whatever Mopsy was doing. Which, according to Ginny, seemed to be duplicating everything she thought would be nice for Millicent and Bill’s wedding. Millicent wasn’t asking.

Instead, Millicent was living her best life, being taken to go see new acts, acting as a roadie with Ollie one night, after being promised backstage tickets to go see an up-and-coming band from Norway. The music wasn’t Millicent’s cup of tea, which was currently a peach and mango infusion thanks to Eric’s suggestion. Apparently, Eric didn’t subscribe to drinking the same tea as everyone else just because everyone else did, that is should actually taste nice. The band though had a lot of energy, and were loud, very very loud. They were also tall, she felt normal-sized around them, and they signed her security lanyard after Ollie suggested she might want a memento of the night.

She’d got to sit in a recording studio while one of the reliably top ten bands recorded their latest single. Watching avidly as the sound engineer played with levels and controlled the session with quiet suggestions, that the band took into account without questioning the sound engineer once. Millicent even got roped into being an extra in a music video shot on the Eleventh Floor. It involved standing and chatting very quietly with Eric and another couple of people they’d pulled from Fourth to floor fill. Something that happened a reasonable amount, according to Eric. He’d been in six videos since March and had to turn down several when he’d been the only one working.

There’d been a bit of a kerfuffle about the video over whether she’d needed parental permission, but as they’d already shot it, and she was technically working at the company, Diana decreed that it was alright. Millicent didn’t mention it to anyone, not even Ollie in case Snape found out and had kittens.

Anyway, if no one had a problem with her being a roadie, she wasn’t sure why they’d have issues with her standing in the back of a music video. Or that she’d offered to do it again after the director praised how well she’d done it and not looked at the camera. Not that having a chat was hard, she could have a chat at the drop of a hat if needed. Years of experience talking to the Village, normally about Gran, but also having opinions on whether the grass was greener that year, or if there were fewer buttercups and more dandelions.

“And then Malfoy asked if I’d started bleeding yet, and Diana threatened to castrate him,” Millicent cackled, rolling her eyes as everyone else at the pub table stiffened. “He’s not actually a Malfoy, or not one they’d acknowledge, who knows how many bastards that family has hidden about the place. Acts like a Malfoy though, pretentious bastard.”

Snape walked her to work the following morning and disappeared off to have a conversation with someone. Millicent rolled her eyes as she wasn’t allowed to visit the third floor by herself.

They’d not reacted like that when she’d told them about stopping Diana from walking into a closet where two of the sound techs were having sex. Or when she’d been offered subpar marijuana to smoke. Which she’d declined, because anyone could tell it was crap just by the fact it looked mouldy. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d brought in some of Joe’s special mix for Eric, and had offered to give him Joe’s number if he wanted more. For free, because it was all medicinal and for personal use only. Joe hadn’t minded either because Millicent knew better than to offer without asking first.

They’d also not kicked off when she’d gotten absolutely hammered with a girl band after they’d got a number one album in the charts and was offered a night out to celebrate because she was in the lift as they were leaving the building having just found out. Or when Millicent was serenaded in the reception area by someone who’d gotten the wrong idea about how important she was. She’d quite liked it, a bit pitchy at points, but still, hearing someone try and rhyme Millicent with magnificent top ten moments of the week. Even after Ginny told Blaise and he tried teasing her about it.

“It’s not like I can’t defend myself,” she pointed out to Diana. “He even apologised after he said it. And after you threatened his manhood. And he’s apologised again, in the staff bulletin.”

Diana wouldn’t let it go. She was definitely related to the catbag. Snape wasn’t any better, refusing to listen when she complained about the restrictions. Molly even agreed with him, the traitor.

“If he’d asked Ginny that, how would you have reacted?” Molly asked patiently, ignoring Gran’s snort.

“The same way I did, by asking if he’d started bleeding yet and if he’d like to,” Millicent answered. She hadn’t flashed the penknife, but it had been in her pocket ready to go in case he’d taken her up on the offer. She also hadn’t told them that little bit, Joe knew because she’d known he’d approve.

Bill didn’t say anything, which she appreciated.

And if she hadn’t got her penknife, she could still have used a pair of scissors, or a stapler, or broken a glass on the desk, or one of the bottles of champagne he had in a glass fridge in his office. Or the letter opener, which she didn’t get why he had one as all of his letters came already opened thanks to being incompetent and having to have a secretary read it all before passing it on. Or, she knew a ruler could cut if she did it quickly enough. And then there was her fingernails, or punching him hard enough, or stamping on him, or just throwing him down the stairs. He was only on the third floor - it wouldn’t have killed him.

“You won’t die if you get thrown off the third floor, right?” Millicent checked with Bill. “I don’t think it’s high enough. Sir? Someone’s bound to have fallen from the third floor at school, it’s not high enough to kill is it, just mangle a bit, I guess if you fall on your neck it would.”

“Also, I didn’t touch him, which you should be proud of me for because I did consider it,” Millicent added after considering for a moment. “I did what you said to do, count to ten and then consider the repercussions of my actions.”

In fact, she was feeling pretty good about it. She grinned at Bill, who flashed a grin back at her. “Alright, so it was a great chat. I’m glad we sorted it out.”

Chapter Text

Millicent was attempting to have a lie in. Three days a week she was bombarded by lots of new, busy places, full of strange smells and people. People everywhere. She needed the other four days to calm down her senses, and to start catching up on her prep for the upcoming educational year. Especially if she wanted a chance to achieve what Percy decided she could attain.

Millicent was attempting a lie-in. Bill had already gone to work, and somehow, even though he’d been living in the house for months, he’d managed to trip over everything, clattering through the house like a herd of elephants. Millicent valiantly prevailed and had achieved the drifting zone. Even with Dobby whistling while he worked. Fuck Timmy for bringing over Snow White whilst George babysat.

Millicent even managed to drift through Winky changing all the curtains in the house, and she wasn’t even asking where they’d found curtains that would fit. Because Snape and Co had managed to extract promises they wouldn’t steal things unless Millicent asked them to. Which, if she was being honest, was putting a lot of trust in Millicent’s nature. If she was them she wouldn’t have left such a broad loophole.

Kreacher so far hadn’t done anything to disturb her morning slumber, which was promising. She got on better with Kreacher than she did Dobby, Dobby was too… Eager. Kreacher had a twisted streak, and she suspected, given half a chance would happily watch the world burn for shits and giggles. Surprisingly, he was not as racist as she’d been warned he would be by Harry. A Harry who for some reason, wasn’t upset that Dobby was now in her - employ didn’t seem like the correct word. Neither had Lupin or the other man about Kreacher’s relocation to Millicent’s household.

Desperately trying to cling onto the last vestiges of sleep, she gave up as Mopsy screamed the house down. Millicent wasn’t sure what happened but one moment she was not hiding under the sheets with her face buried into the pillow, and then next she was downstairs with a bread knife, in a nightie that Bill had bought after they’d had a discussion about how appropriate her old sleep shirt had been.

Mopsy, incandescent with rage, was screeching about going to war, whilst Winky clung to the back of Millicent’s leg.

“What the fuck is going on?” Millicent growled, having regained the ability to speak now she could see that there wasn’t an intruder in the house.

“We not be winning! We not be winning anything!” Mopsy shrieked. “We’ve been stolen from!”

Kreacher pushed the village newsletter over to Millicent, the single-sided bit of print talking about upcoming special events, the joyous news that a new family had moved into the village, the important news that the birds were back pecking at milk bottle tops again, the cricket team recruiting now they had an almost full quota of young people and …

“For fucks sake,” Millicent hissed. Six winners for the garden competition, and Mopsy hadn’t won a single thing. “You’ll get a took place ribbon.”

“My roses are best in village!” Mopsy screeched at her. “My sweetpeas most fragrant, my fuchsias the prettiest and bountiful. My gooseberry bush is the sweetest most succulent. My hedge is best trimmed, is best, is a dragon! My garden is best garden, no weeds in my garden!”

“I don’t care,” Millicent shrugged. “You’ll get a ribbon, and you can be grateful about it.”

“Corruption!” Mopsy started pacing the kitchen.

“I’m going back to bed,” Millicent ignored her. Or not, having caught the time on the clock. After eight, she should really get moving properly. “The Vicar’s an utter prick, but I don’t think he’s corrupt.”

Mopsy ignored her, and picked up the telephone. “How did you be winning?”

“Who the fuck are you on to?” Millicent shot over, stealing the phone only to hear Joe. “Sorry, she’s an absolute pest.”

“Do you want my ribbon?” He asked, laughing.

“You’ve got them already?” She asked, peering at the front door.

“Vicar brought them around last night,” Joe confirmed. “He didn’t mention he was dropping by Julia’s mind.”

“Did you get the obligatory joined-in ribbon?” She checked, glancing down at Mopsy who was glaring at the phone as if it was Joe’s fault.

“She did sign up?” Joe asked carefully.

“Mopsy, did you sign up?” Millicent addressed the small bundle of rage.

“I be making the garden the best!” Mopsy shrieked.

“So you didn’t?” Millicent bit back the grin, the other three elves disappearing quickly as they worked out the situation. “Sorry Joe, I’ll see you later, I’m going to bring Timmy out for a walk to give Daisy a break.”

“See you later,” he laughed, hanging up, leaving Millicent alone in the kitchen with Mopsy.

“So,” Millicent didn’t grin.

“It be obvious!” Mopsy shrieked.

“The Vicar doesn’t come down this way,” Millicent pointed out. “He might if Gran lived here still, but she doesn’t. And we’ve never taken part before.”

She could tell Mopsy was working out how to make it not her own fault. “You read the village newsletter. It did say all entries needed to be made before the fifteenth of July to be considered.”

“Mopsy not be knowing how to read,” Mopsy lied outright, before deciding to clarify. “Not be knowing to read the village newsletter.”

“Oh, so you didn’t fill in last month's word search before I could see it?” Millicent checked. Some months, when there wasn’t enough “news” to fill the spread, they’d put in puzzles. One particularly dull October the newsletter had only one bit of information, about the bus stop getting a new sign, and the rest had been a variety of puzzles.

“Mopsy be liking them,” Mopsy hedged. “Miss Millicent be getting to do word searches all the time.”

“I’ll ask Joe if he’s willing to let you have a ribbon,” Millicent offered, feeling much more magnanimous now the whole wretched affair was over. “He did win two after all.”

Mopsy stared at her open-mouthed.

“Well, you’ve learned a valuable lesson for next year. I’m going to go get dressed.”

She practically floated through the rest of the day, ignoring Mopsy banging and wailing about in the house. Millicent chose to have Winky prepare the finest picnic for her and Timmy, twisting the knife in just a little by claiming that she’d gather ribbon-winning gooseberries for pudding.

They were excellent gooseberries. She wasn’t sure if they were better than Mopsy’s but they were still excellent, and she’d had to distract Timmy from eating too many, promising they’d go hunting for grasshoppers instead. Timmy had a keen eye for spotting them and trying to eat them. He wasn’t as keen on catching them, keeping his hand too open, but every time he’d managed to get one, his hand would go straight to his mouth. Little terror.

Bill found them peering into the beck at the bottom of the lane, trying to count water boatman with a pained expression.

“She still on one?” Millicent asked as he exhaled.

“She’s worse than Ginny, what’s her problem?” He asked, peering over to try and spot whatever it was they were looking at.

“She didn’t win anything,” Millicent snorted, catching the back of Timmy’s legs as he decided to make a break for the water by going over the wall. “We can count without going in.”

“Six!” Timmy yelled. There were more than six. She’d counted twenty.

“Good job,” Millicent praised, settling him back into the safe zone.

“She didn’t win anything?” Bill sounded confused. “Joe said the hedge entry was designed just for Mopsy?”

“She didn’t sign up,” Millicent cackled. Oh, she was going to enjoy it for months. Almost worth the drama the stupid competition had caused for the last few months.

“She didn’t sign up?”

“Five!” Timmy pointed. She could still see at least twenty.

“Five what?” Bill asked, tilting his head like a puppy. He’d been spending too much time with Lupin.

“Water boatmen and I think there are more than five,” Millicent patted Timmy on the head. “How about minnows?”

“Hundred!” Timmy shouted as loudly as he could, and she snickered as Bill gave him a side-eye.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” Millicent counted about ten. Still, hard to count when they kept going under the pond weed.

“I like frogs,” Timmy told Bill. “Ribbet!”

“Good frog noises,” Millicent praised, maybe she could get Ginny to borrow Longbottom’s toad as a show and tell for Timmy. He’d be the sort to do it too. She didn’t know anyone else who had an amphibian as a pet. Or maybe they could raise some next year. Timmy would probably really enjoy that if he hadn’t found a new obsession by then.

“We could move back to Mum’s?” Bill offered, after helping her drop Timmy back with Daisy, and spending a moment to admire the racing car bed.

“She’s not chasing us out of our home,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “She’s just going to have to deal with it. And I told Joe that she didn’t deserve one of his ribbons.”

“I could move home,” Bill rubbed a hand over his face. “Charlie can move in.”

“What did Charlie ever do to you?” She laughed. “Anyway, you’re rough and tough, you can cope.”

“I’m a weakling.” Pouting as she snorted. “I’ve got to catch up on paperwork.”

“Just tell her to shut up about it,” Millicent shrugged. “It’s her own fault.”

Mopsy didn’t shut up, or she did, but still managed to let her displeasure be known.

“Do you want to go out?” Millicent asked him, as Bill crept in through the kitchen door, avoiding the front garden entirely as Mopsy started to dig a hole for a koi pond so she wouldn’t lose next year.

“I’m going out with Joe,” he looked guilty, even as she just shrugged. Millicent also had plans, ones that involved collecting cow shit in a wheelbarrow and dumping it on the Vicar’s front door.

“Have a nice time,” she grinned.

“Do you want to come?” he offered, glancing to the front of the house as if Mopsy could spot them.

“I’ve got schoolwork to start on,” she promised, which was almost true. Percy had come through with History coursework for her, even though he’d said she had to wait for him to send the correct edition for it, as the Ministry changed it every couple of years to force parents into buying new.

“Sure?” He checked. “They’re opening the beer garden as the weathers not bad.”

“Honest,” she grinned. “You go smoke terrible cigs and drink disgustingly bad beer and discuss your cricket strategy.”

He ruffled her hair, sneaking upstairs as quietly as he could, leaving Winky twisting her hands together. “Mistress not be doing schoolwork.”

“It’s school-related,” she explained, having spent an afternoon with Blaise discussing the finer elements of revenge. The Vicar had declared in front of everyone in Church that Daisy was in the wrong for bringing “that sort” into the village.

That sort, hadn’t as Millicent assumed it to be, a skin colour issue. Oh no. The Vicar objected to the Contessa being Italian and as such Roman Catholic. Millicent hadn’t exactly been sure why he objected so vehemently, it was hardly as if there was more than one child for her to eat in the village, and everyone knew they only ate babies anyway. She’d cackled about it with Blaise.

The Contessa was clearly a papal spy, destined to bring down the Church of England - of which the village was only semi, considering most of them didn’t acknowledge the monarch having a right to rule the village. Or at least according to the Vicar, who’d quickly clarified after there was uproar when he first started to spout hate about the incomers to the village.

The Roman Catholic element was met with a more muted, confused reaction, with more than a couple of the younger congregation giving him puzzled looks. Millicent had a bet on with herself how much longer he’d stay the Vicar for the village. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t make another Christmas.

Blaise and the Contessa were going to the Village Hall to play Whist, and Millicent knew, thanks to Jean’s intel, the Vicar would be watching Emmerdale to keep him up-to-date with the community. Millicent didn’t care about having an alibi, although she was sure if she wanted one, she could get at least George to vouch for her, and probably Charlie.

It was easy enough to get a wheelbarrow of cow shit, slightly harder to get it up the hill from Joe’s without it tipping all over the road. She’d gone for some from the slurry, so it would spread easily, and a few firmer to give it a bit of texture. She’d considered mixing a bit of pig in there but had, on reflection, decided that going purely cow shit would prove her point better. The Vicar could have his bullshit back. And she was ignoring the part where most of it was cow rather than bull. There was bound to be a bit of bull in it after all.

She had a close call when Eric Hayward drove past in a tractor, more so because he’d bombed it around the corner without looking, and almost tipped himself over. Joe always said the Hayward’s couldn’t drive to save their lives. She’d spotted a couple of the Franklin’s pulling a sheep out of a hedge, but they didn’t seem to see her.

It wasn’t hard getting to the Vicar’s front door unseen, the tv relocated to the back of the Vicarage since he’d moved in, as if the village would judge him for watching it. She could still hear it, and she’d timed it so he’d be glued to it for a good ten minutes giving her ample time to pour her load all over his doorstep and then trail it down the path to the front gate.

Easy sailing back, all downhill, not spotting another person until she’d got back home, having dropped the wheelbarrow back at Joe’s.

“Not going to ask,” Charlie grinned at her as she winked at him. “Bill wanted me to check that you’d not killed Mopsy while he was out.”

“Mopsy?” Millicent called.

“What?” Mopsy stomped into the kitchen. “Mopsy be busy.”

“Charlie wanted to check you were still alive,” Millicent smiled sweetly at her.

“Mopsy be alive,” she scowled at Charlie. “Mopsy be very busy.”

“Should we be afraid?” Charlie asked, after she’d stropped back off to the front garden.

“Always,” Millicent snickered. “She’s decided that she needs a koi pond to win next year. If she remembers to enter.”

“Mopsy be hearing that!” Mopsy yelled, with Millicent giggling as Charlie grinned.

“You were supposed to!”

“I’m so envious of Bill,” Charlie joked. “And all I have to put up with is wedding preparations.”

“I mean,” Millicent pulled a face. “It’s still next year though?”

“So Percy says,” Charlie didn’t look convinced. Fleur seemed to be taking the suggestion of doing it sooner seriously. “They have decided on who they are inviting now.”

“As long as I’m not a bridesmaid,” Millicent pulled a face as he grinned. “Fuck off. They already have two with Ginny and her little sister. They don’t need a third. It’ll be uneven.”

“Fred and George have offered,” Charlie offered, and they both burst into laughter.

“They’d look stunning and fabulous,” Millicent gasped for air, as every time she’d stopped a vision of the twins in bridesmaids dresses set her off again.

“Ginny thinks we should wear dresses, and the girls wear suits, Fleur thinks that might be tres chic.”

“She would, and don’t tell Blaise,” Millicent had visions of the clothes horse involving himself again.

Chapter Text

She did her usual birthday routine, of heading up to see Dad first thing with a flask of tea, a blanket to protect from the early morning dew, and a teacake, which Gran told her was her Dad’s favourite.

Not even Mopsy had stirred as she’d made her way in the pre-dawn, downstairs, pulling on a ratty old jumper of his that she pretended still smelled of him, and tugging on her trainers before creeping quietly out of the house.

The air chilled, the birds just starting to wake up, the sky above still glimmering with stars in the deliciously deep royal blue as the moon set and the sun started to make its way up to greet the day. She made it in time, hopping the gate rather than risk waking anyone with the squeak, having not gotten a chance to oil it yet.

“Morning Dad,” she whispered, placing a hand on his stone, before spreading the blanket down next to him, facing the valley where the most beautiful sunrise would show itself.

They didn’t have to wait long, the first real tendrils of sunlight peaking out from above the far hills, bathing the fields below in a misty foggy dew. They waited until the sun fully rose behind the hill to pour the first drinks. One for Millicent and one for her Dad. His favourite, a dash of milk, two sugars and extra strongly brewed, where she had to strain the tea leaves with her teeth.

“Happy Birthday to me.”

They sat in birdsong until she’d finished her second tea, pouring a third for her Dad’s best friend next to them, and spreading teacake crumbs out for the birds to enjoy once she’d left. “I promise I’ll be good this year.”

She didn’t see a soul on the way home but could hear a couple of tractors in the distance. Too early for most to be out, but not all.

The house was quiet, with only Kreacher about as she crept back in through the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday, Mistress.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a small smile, moving behind him to wash up before she forgot. He always looked surprised when she smiled at him or touched him on the shoulder. Dobby was better, and Winky had forgotten to be afraid after the first week of sharing a bedroom, but Kreacher was skittish at the best of times.

“I can clean those,” he offered as she toed off her trainers ready to scrub them down before the grass stained them. The perils of new trainers, but her old ones had given up the ghost after Timmy fed them to Betsy while Ginny was supposed to be watching him. Miss Oliviette hadn’t helped having shredded the laces three times, but it was definitely the large hole in the ankle that made her throw them away.

“I don’t mind,” she smiled at him, handing them over as he pulled a face. Some battles weren’t worth it, and allowing the elves to feel useful, even when it meant Millicent felt a bit lazy, well.

“Winky has a bath ready,” he told her, not quite shooing her out of the kitchen, still she took the hint and quietly made it upstairs, making sure to place her Dad’s jumper back in the bottom of her chest of drawers, before allowing herself to be scrubbed clean by a determined Winky.

“Happy Birthday, Mistress. Mopsy be washing bedding today,” Winky chirped quietly. “And Winky is in charge of cleaning Mistress. Kreacher be making breakfast, and Dobby be collecting presents.”

“Thank you,” Millicent breathed, sinking into the heated water, allowing the fragrant steam to take her into a sense of being.

Birthday breakfast, according to Kreacher at any rate, turned out to be Kedgeree, that had her mouth drooling as he placed a platter on the kitchen table. She wasn’t sure when he’d had the chance to get haddock in, but as he served her up a plate, the smell of the smoked fish had her stomach growling.

It tasted better than it smelled. When Bill appeared, hair mussed still from sleeping, there was only enough left for a serving. Her stomach more than pleasantly filled, and Kreacher almost smiled as he puttered around making a well-balanced breakfast for Miss Oliviette.

“Happy Birthday,” Bill yawned, pouring himself a mug of tea. “Sleep well?”

“Very.” She always slept well on her Birthday. Her Birthdays were always good days, even when the weather was bad. She was never at school, and Gran would let her get away with things she wouldn’t normally, like rolling in mud, or eating twice as much as normal.

“Where’s Mopsy?” he asked after a couple of bites. “I was expecting the house to have been plastered in decorations.”

“Mopsy is hiding,” Winky answered guiltily, Kreacher keeping very quiet.

“What’s she done now?” Millicent didn’t quite sigh, because she had more control than that, but it was a close thing.

“Mopsy be bad elf,” Mopsy cried, throwing herself on Millicent’s legs. She wasn’t sure how she’d not noticed her under the table or even if she’d been there until that moment.

“Mopsy not bad elf,” Kreacher mumbled.

“Mopsy be wanting to gift Miss Millicent babies for birthday-“

“NO!” Millicent shrieked, throwing herself back off the chair and away from Bill as fast as she could. “No babies! We’ve talked about this.”

“Mopsy,” Bill looked as pale as Millicent felt. “We agreed there would be no babies until Millicent was ready.”

“Not Miss Millicent babies!” Mopsy looked at them as if they were stupid. “Mopsy now be having mate, and Mopsy be wanting to gift best gift Head Elf can give. But Mopsy not be able to. Not yet.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Millicent exhaled, bending over to recover her heart rate. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Miss Millicent!” Mopsy stamped her foot.

“I mean, I’m sorry that you aren’t, if that’s what you both want, obviously,” Millicent backpeddled. Kreacher looked a little uncomfortable, and Winky was wringing her hands. “But didn’t you say that it would take time?”

“But Miss Millicent’s birthday is now,” Mopsy stamped her foot. “Mopsy not be giving Miss Millicent awards for garden, not be giving Miss Millicent babies. Mopsy bad elf. Mopsy terrible elf.”

“Mum said it was payback for all the times I was a terror as a child,” Bill muttered. Millicent bit back a snort as he took a relieved swig of tea.

“You didn’t need to get me anything, anyway,” Millicent pointed out. “Just saying Happy Birthday is enough. Because it means you want me to have a good day, and that’s a nice thing.”

“Mopsy not even be saying Happy Birthday!” Mopsy wailed.

“You could say it now?” Millicent tried.

“But it not be being the same now,” Mopsy flipped back to outraged, the tears all but disappearing as she stamped her foot. “Mopsy worst Head elf.”

“Right, well,” Millicent looked at Bill who looked as lost as she felt. “That’s great. So, I’m going to see Joe soon, because I am now legally allowed to drive.”

Bill started to nod, before frowning. “It said provisional.”

“Yes, well I’m allowed to if there’s an adult in the car with me, and Joe said that as soon as I turned 16 he’d give me Dad and Barry’s old Land Rover that he kept for me,” Millicent grinned, having decided that Mopsy wouldn’t be saved from her mood switching any time soon, so it was best to ignore her.

“Mum’s planning on a birthday lunch, and then we’re going out for tea,” he reminded her.

“Mistress presents being taken to the Burrow,” Kreacher informed them. She wasn’t sure why, Gran baked her a cake, and that was present enough. Hardly seemed worth it for Dobby to go and fetch it only to take it back to the Burrow. But then they all liked to do things and who was she to say otherwise.

“Do you want to open yours here or there?” Bill asked after he’d finished eating.

“My what?”

“Present,” he looked faintly amused. “It’s upstairs. Or should be.”

“Why did you get me a present?” Millicent frowned at him. “You said Happy Birthday.”

“I even got you a card,” he teased.

“I didn’t get you a present for your birthday.” Something she was now regretting. She didn’t know they were going to do presents. She didn’t do presents with Audrey, and she wouldn’t be able to afford to with Blaise the pampered princeling.

“You sent me a lovely letter wishing me a Happy Birthday,” he pointed out. In fairness, they’d only just gotten betrothed at that point, and if it hadn’t been for George she probably wouldn’t have known.

“You could write me a lovely letter?” Millicent tried. “I don’t need presents. Other than Joe’s because Joe’s been talking to me and Gran about it since I was seven.”

And whilst technically, she was only supposed to be able to drive a moped at 16, well, if she could sign up to join the Army, or get married with parental permission, then surely she should be able to drive a car. And it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to drive a tractor, and a baler. And she wasn’t going to drive it far, just around the village, and maybe taking Gran to a hospital appointment if Arthur and Molly couldn’t.

It was her Dad’s car, his and Barry’s, Joe’s son, Dad’s best friend. It wasn’t like the moment she hit 17 she wasn’t going to take her theory test and then as soon as possible after that, her driving test. Or that any of them had a clue about what she was legally allowed to do anyway. As long as Percy didn’t look into it. And he was too busy with wedding stuff anyway.

“Do you want it now or later?” He asked again with more of a grin on his face.

“Now?” She wrinkled her nose. “It might make people feel awkward if you give me a present in front of them. You should really only do that if you’re prepared to give everyone a present, like at Christmas. Or Easter and that’s less about presents and more about chocolate and pound coins.”

He just laughed, ruffling her hair on his way. He left her explaining to the anxious elves that they really didn’t need to get her anything and that a Happy Birthday was the only thing she would like and even that wasn’t necessary.

“We don’t even know when my birthday is. So really, it’s just an arbitrary day that Gran picked, guessing on when I was born. So really, when you think about it, it’s just a made-up concept that is only useful being allowed to drive, and drink, legally at any rate,” Millicent shrugged as Bill wandered back in with a large bag.

“We could find out if you like?” he offered.

“And risk being put back a year? I don’t think so,” she huffed. “It’s my legal date of birth, and that’s all we need. Because once we start messing about with things like that then they start questioning if I’m even real. We don’t need that on top of everything else.”

“You feel pretty real,” he grinned, tweaking her nose.

“I’ll take it.” Literally taking it as he thrust the bag into her arms. “Thank you. But you honestly don’t need to next year, unless it’s taking me to go get my theory test done. I would be over the moon with that.” And even if he didn’t Joe definitely would. She would not be able to drive herself to take it after all, the authorities would notice, probably.

He waited patiently as she fingered the outside of the bag, still unsure if she should really be accepting it. “It’s just like a courting gift.”

“Exactly,” he agreed as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Just another courting gift.”

“And I’m allowed those.” Because she was. She was allowed to accept the courting gifts, and she kept every single one, in case someone wanted to see them.

“You are,” he agreed with a softer smile, and she scowled at him. “Do you want me to go in the other room?”

She did. It was stupid, and she trusted him, but this seemed wrong. It wasn’t a card with a coin wrapped in kitchen towel. It wasn’t from Joe, the only person who got her a present every year, usually something useful like new shoes or a new jumper.

There wasn’t anything to be scared of, and yet, when she looked at the bag, it felt wrong.

“You don’t have to open it if you don’t want to, it’s yours,” he said kindly, and she scowled harder at him. Was he trying to make her cry deliberately?

“It’s not expensive, or breakable?” she checked. He was sensible, and his courting gifts had all been sensible. CDs, a new yo yo, which she absolutely loved, his time, a t-shirt from a gig and a photo album of her and Gran. This felt more though.

“Would I?”

“No,” she was pretty sure he wouldn’t.

She stared at the bag a little longer, relaxing as he placed his hand on the small of her back. She could do it, she could open it.

She liked the card, a painting of the landscape up from Dad’s across the Valley, with a simple Happy Birthday, love Bill inside.

“Jean did it for me,” he informed her after she turned it over to look. “She’s happy to do you a bigger one if you like it.”

“I do like it,” Millicent batted the tears from her lashes before they could fall and ruin the pretty card. “It’s wonderful.”

“Christmas present done,” he laughed, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

It made it easier to open the big bag. And then frown. “What is it?”

“Probably shouldn’t open it up fully inside, but,” he grinned, helping her pull it fully out of the wrapping onto the kitchen table.

“It’s a tent?” Millicent blinked, catching sight of the image on the canvas as he flipped it over.

“Well, you didn’t want hiking boots, and you already have a perfectly good hiking bag,” he smiled at her.

“I won’t have to borrow Joe’s any more,” she breathed out unsteadily.

“And you’ll be able to keep dry if it rains,” he pointed out.

“It was getting a little old,” and holey. And it might have been staying up with hope rather than the poles.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she cuddled it to her chest. “Does this mean I can go camping by myself?”

“It’s a two man tent, and Percy has a tent I can borrow,” he pointed out before she could get too carried away. “But for staying out at Joe’s, you won’t need anyone with you. No going off on long hikes alone. Just to Joe’s.”

“Fair enough,” she hummed. She doubted Snape would let her go off by herself on a long hike, or at least not before she was seventeen and it didn’t matter any more. He was very keen on her not wandering off too far by herself. Even if she had mapped out the two hundred and sixty-eight mile walk with stopping places as a suggestion for a fun thing to do with some of the summer holidays.

Charlie had offered to take a week off at Easter to do it with her next year, with Bill reluctantly agreeing to consider joining them. She thought it would be a grand idea, and Mary suggested at the wedding that she could start doing mountains, and Charlie seemed really up for that.

“Thank you,” she stroked it gently before placing it on the table. “I love it.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

Chapter Text

Millicent squealed as she entered the yard where Joe was polishing up the old Land Rover. It had less rust spots than the last time she’d seen it, which had been a year ago exactly.

“Happy Birthday,” he grinned at her, managing to stay upright as she barreled into him.

“Thanks!” she couldn’t stop grinning as he hugged her shoulders. “She’s so pretty.”

“She is,” Joe hummed happily. “You’ve new tires, and everything in working condition. I even got the seat patched.”

“Joe, she’s marvellous,” Millicent sighed itching to touch her.

“Do you want to leave her here for now?”

“Can I?” She didn’t really want to part from her, but she needed a proper home, and the lane in front of Gran’s was barely wide enough for one car. It’d be just asking for it to be crashed into.

“Of course,” he ruffled Millicent’s hair. “Want a spin?”

“Please,” she breathed, hopping into the driver’s seat before he could take it back. The keys were hanging out of the ignition, and she had to take a moment to stop her fingers from trembling with anticipation. Her Dad had sat in this seat. He’d touched this steering wheel, looked in these mirrors. When she sat in the car she could almost feel his presence.

“Do you remember how to use the choke?” Joe checked as she stroked the gear stick.

She nodded, priming it before checking her baby was in neutral.

“Slowly,” he coached as she turned the key, the sound of the engine kicking in sending shivers down her spine. “Good. Now, gently release the hand break, put her in reverse - did it shift - no, foot on the clutch, the clutch, left foot closest to me, yes, press it in and move into reverse, slowly with the right foot - check mirrors, the rear view mirror Millicent, yes, now slowly with your foot on the accelerator, release the clutch and - no keep your foot on the accelerator.

“Alright - it’s alright, we stalled, we knew we were going to stall, what did I say?”

“That if I didn’t stall you’d think I was a natural and that I’d need to go into Formula One and I would hate it,” Millicent repeated, trying not to flush with embarrassment as she stalled her most beautiful baby immediately.

“Engine off, we’re going to wait a moment so we don’t flood the engine,” Joe smiled at her. “You're still doing much better than the boys did. Barry crashed straight into the wall, and your Dad couldn’t get it to start at all.”

“We haven’t gone anywhere yet,” Millicent blushed. She might still crash into a wall.

“We’ve moved a little bit,” Joe pointed out. Just not very far, but he was right, they had moved maybe a metre.

She tried again, resetting to neutral, managing to start the car again, before shifting into reverse, checking all of the mirrors this time, before slowly easing the car back.

“I’m driving!” she squeaked as they moved back another metre, and then another, and another and another-

“Stop!” Joe shouted as they got a lot closer to the back wall.

“Sorry!” she slammed her foot on the break, the pair of them jerking forward with the force of it.

“It’s fine,” he lied, easing the seat belt off his chest before checking over his shoulder. “Now, I want you to put it in first and we’re going to go slowly forward until we’re back in the shed.”

“Yes!” She could do it, until she tried to put it in first and stalled it again. This time she struggled, flooding the engine as she got impatient. It took longer to get it moving, the flush of success wearing off as she kept stalling even once she got it into first.

“Keep your foot on the accelerator but gently, just a little,” Joe reassured her.

Eventually, they were parked back where they’d started, only for him to have her reverse it out again, and then pull back in, at least half a dozen times until she could reliably get it moving slowly forward and back without stalling.

“Now, do you want to try turning?” He asked as she beamed at being the best driver ever.

“Please!”

Turned out, Millicent wasn’t the best at turning, or not while going forward. She wasn’t terrible at reverse turning, but when he had her try and pull out of the yard to go down the drive, she almost crunched the front end every time.

“More space - you need to swing out a little more,” Joe coached as she aimed for the gate post. “Alright - I think what we need to do is start by learning how wide the car is, in relation to where you are sitting.”

“I can’t do it,” Millicent didn’t want to start crying. She just didn’t get it. And Joe had made the old beauty even more beautiful just for her, and she was ruining it.

“You can do it,” he placed a hand on hers. “Remember when you started to drive the tractor for me?”

The tractor was easy, and he’d only let her do it in the fields, not moving it along the road. And most of the time now she was the one in the field and he was driving.

She didn’t make it again, but, taking a deep breath, and another few tries she managed to swing out far enough and not too far to get the right line out through the gate. And then stalled. But she made it through the gate first. Which she was so chuffed about that Joe started laughing. He let her drive slowly to the end to where the drive met the lane, before they switched places.

Her hands were trembling from how hard she’d been gripping, but the feeling of accomplishment was unreal.

“Now,” Joe said, with a smile. “You’ll be back at school Monday, back at the weekends?”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she pouted.

“Saturday morning lessons?” He offered.

“I love you,” Millicent lit up. “I can wash Betsy afterwards too. And wash your car.”

He sent her back home with a small present, even though he’d already given her the best present in the entire world. He hadn’t wanted her to open it in front of him, he never did. A pair of leather driving gloves, that fit like a dream, soft and luxurious with the faintest scent of sandalwood and cedar.

“Good lesson?” Bill asked as she curled up on the sofa with a glass of water. None of the elves were in sight, and the radio was burbling the shipping forecast. For all of Bill’s good points, his insistence on listening to Radio 4 rather than music while she was out, well, she couldn’t quite fathom it.

“I drove!” She beamed at him. “I drove my dad’s old car, and I didn’t crash once.”

He raised his eyebrows a little at that without commenting, instead switching the station over to Radio 1 with only a small wince.

“Thanks!” best birthday ever. Hands down, no competition.

It wasn’t long before Charlie appeared, with a cheery “Happy Birthday” and then headed out to smoke with Bill out the back. Millicent chose to stay inside, mainly because Gran had the nose of a sniffer dog, and she didn’t want to be remotely tempted to try one of Charlie’s terrible cigarettes even if they were smelling funkier than normal.

“House is a bit chaotic,” Charlie warned, having returned after a brief three cigarette smoke break. She’d seen him chain a packet without pausing, three was pretty reasonable. “Ginny hasn’t started packing yet, and neither has Ron.”

“I’m packed,” Millicent reassured Bill who flicked a glance at her.

“I know, and I still think next year you should let me take you shopping instead of ordering everything from a catalogue.”

“It’s how we’ve always done it,” she pulled a face at him. “It’s through the government, and it works really well. I give Joe the money, he pays the government, and I get my school supplies. Simple. Easy. And if, like one year, they don’t give me the right text book, it’s their fault and they have to fix it.”

“Don’t you want to go with Ginny?” Bill tried again. He’d really not been impressed when Joe had knocked on the door with her school stuff. Apparently, he’d planned a whole day to go do it, but as he hadn’t told her how was she supposed to know.

“With everyone else? Have you met me?” she pulled a face. “None of them wash, and they touch everything, everything,. It’s like being around a million Timmy’s and the parents, bleargh. I’m just glad I don’t have to catch the train back.”

Bill made a small noise.

“I’m not taking the train back. Not unless you want me to kill half the students before I even arrive,” Millicent said sweetly. “It’s bad enough that I’m being forced to attend the welcoming feast, never mind anything else.”

Charlie snorted, and Bill rolled his eyes. “It’s alright for you two, you’ve finished. I have another two years yet. Bleargh. Would you want to go back? Be surrounded by noisy, smelly, idiotic children who have the same amount of brain cells as a flobberworm?”

“Milly,” Bill gave her a warning look. They’d had words about how she was to try and not consider Hogwarts as her own personal hell, or something to that effect.

“Sorry,” she pretended to be apologetic. “Really though, I am looking forward to getting the new syllabus for my classes. Percy thinks I should be able to take the History NEWT over the Christmas hols with all the resit students. And I heard the tiniest rumour that Binn’s might be gone.”

“Ollie told you,” Bill said dryly.

“He might have mentioned it,” Millicent did her best to look innocent.

He’d mentioned it over leaving drinks with Eric, Diana and some of the others. Not that she was leaving, but until Christmas Snape, wasn’t allowing her to do any more work experience not even at the weekends. Even though she’d be at home. And Diana had offered to get her a job offer if she didn’t want to go back to school. Ollie blabbed to Percy immediately, the sneak.

“Well,” Bill paused, clearly considering something.

“What?”

“We were going to talk to you tomorrow about it, rather than ruin your birthday,” he sighed, with Charlie giving a half-hearted shrug.

“I mean, you can’t ruin the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Millicent pointed out. It wasn’t as if he’d found out she wasn’t actually old enough to drive yet. Or that - well, yeah that was really the only thing that could ruin it.

“Sure?” He checked.

“Yes?” So dramatic, she could see the family resemblance to Ron.

“Well, all those essays, if you stayed as independent they’d count, because they are based off the Ministry guidelines for independent learners. You’d still be able to take the exams come December,” Bill spoke very carefully.

“And?” Millicent couldn’t see the issue.

“If you wanted to take the course under the new History Professor, they wouldn’t be valid, as they’ll have their own curriculum to follow,” he followed up.

She bit back a scoff. First instinct was it didn’t matter, she was only taking History like this because she liked it, and had invested her time into it not to see it through to NEWTs with a passing grade. Second - she liked learning.

“Who is it?”

“Pauline Withers,” Bill said the name as if it meant something. Charlie looked as blank as Millicent felt. “She has spent the last fifty years steeped in World History for Gringott’s.”

Millicent felt her heart skip a beat. World History. “What’s she like?”

“Intense.” He paused. “You’ll love her.”

“Well, I could,” Millicent hugged herself, while nibbling on her lower lip. “I mean, it’s all just prep work. And maybe she could read my assignments anyway, mark them, and then I can use her feedback to make sure I complete her course with the best marks.”

“You aren’t upset?” Bill checked.

“I mean.” Millicent allowed herself a little flutter of glee. “I mean.”

“Percy called it,” Charlie laughed. “Bill said you’d be upset about wasting your time, Percy said you’d be too excited.”

“Just think, an actual teacher, who will teach us actual History, and hopefully not just Wizarding Propaganda. It couldn’t get any better unless,” Millicent had a tiny, unrealistic bubble of hope. “Dumbledore’s dying and is retiring to go to a spa town and bathe in the waters?”

“No,” Bill said it with such finality she pouted. “Well, not as far as I’m aware.”

“No rumours of him dying,” Charlie winked at her.

“Maybe we could start some, and you know, encourage him to retire?” Millicent tried her best begging expression, ducking as Bill tapped her on the nose. “Or maybe not.”

“Maybe not,” Bill chided gently.

“Have you ever thought about a career in Dragonology?” Charlie cut across the room, ducking as Bill hissed at him. “What - Milly would make an excellent wrangler. She has the right physique.”

“I do,” she flexed her muscles. “Sadly, I’ve got two more years of school, and then a minimum of four more at University, if I don’t take Diana up on her offer.”

“Which you won’t, or not yet,” Bill said dryly.

“It’s a good offer, even on a starting salary, and the job prospects, and I love the industry,” Millicent stuck her tongue out.

“Mum’s expecting us,” Charlie cut across Bill. “Just before we get into another hour long debate about careers and dreams.”

“We would never,” Millicent grinned, with Bill muttering under his breath. “Not without Snape. Because nothing says drama like Snape.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Mum said he was invited,” Charlie snickered as she cursed.

Chapter Text

Everyone was outside as they arrived. A large picnic table full of food and fly nets took up half a wall, and more people than Millicent expected. Weasleys, plus Fleur, Oliver and Blaise was the most she predicted.

“Happy Birthday!” she didn’t blush as everyone shouted at her. At least they didn’t sing. She could do without singing.

Ginny jumped on her as she considered hissing at Bill to take her home, not that she would without seeing Gran, but still. “Happy Birthday, Milly!”

“Thanks,” Millicent sputtered, trying to untangle Ginny’s hand from her hair. “Part rabbit today?”

“Testing out one of the Twin’s concoctions, gives you extra bounce,” she giggled, hopping down before jumping back up onto Millicent’s back.

“I can see that,” Millicent tugged her legs up so they weren’t kicking her, allowing Ginny a piggyback ride, as Ginny whispered that this was a toned down party.

She wasn’t surprised to see Harry and his gay guardian’s there, who were already drinking with Snape who looked overly out of place, in his black garments. She wasn’t surprised that Blaise and the Contessa were in attendance, mainly because Blaise mentioned he’d been invited as he wasn’t turning down an opportunity to see where George came from.

She wished she’d been surprised to see Dennis and his brother. Also, their parents who looked out of place, talking to Daisy - who was a surprise. Dean, not so much, a welcome relief after he tugged Ginny down, before betraying Millicent by tossing Timmy up onto her shoulders instead. She was the Birthday girl, not a bloody packhorse.

“Gran,” Millicent carefully squatted, keeping hold of Timmy to kiss Gran on the cheek as she sat in a comfortable living room chair, that had been brought outside and placed underneath a big umbrella.

“Happy Birthday,” Gran gave an approving nod. “Have you had a good day?”

“I saw Dad, and then I’ve seen you, so yes, all the most important people, it can’t get much better,” Millicent hummed happily.

“As it should be,” Gran pursed her lips. “There’s teacakes.”

“Are they as good as yours?” Millicent asked with a small grin, not moving out of the way as Gran gave her a small swat.

“Foolish chit, off with you.”

“Yes Gran,” Millicent leaned to kiss her on the cheek, breathing in the warm love and lavender.

“You can read to me later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Timmy was delighted to see the Flower lady again, babbling as Fleur allowed her hair to be tangled in small hands, after Percy lifted him down to be held at a more reasonable height. She slipped away as the couple attempted to untangle themselves, only to bump into -

“Happy Birthday,” Longbottom stepped away from talking to Ron into her path.

“Thanks,” Millicent didn’t know why he was there.

“I hope you have a good one,” he stuttered.

“Yeah, thanks,” Millicent ignored Blaise snorting by Dean’s side. Twat.

“Mills!” Dennis barreled into her pushing past Longbottom without a care in the world, even managing to stamp on his feet.

“What did I tell you about that,” Millicent hissed at him.

“Milly!” Dennis thrust a yo yo at her, standing directly in front of Longbottom, who looked a bit shellshocked.

“You’ll be relegated to Bulstrode if you don’t stop it,” Millicent berated him.

“You’d never,” he said with such belief she gave up. “This isn’t your present, well it’s for you but you know how you were saying that we needed more yo yo’s for club? Well I’ve been practicing, and this is my first successful attempt.”

“Really?” Millicent paused, inspecting it, letting it turn over in her hand before trying a couple of tricks. “Little unbalanced but that might just be the string. Did you transfigure the string, or did you add it after?”

“After,” Dennis stared at her with such fervency she considered taking a step back.

“Have you tried it?” He nodded. “What did you think?”

“It works, I might have used the wrong type of string?”

“Household will do,” she hummed, unravelling it fully before spotting the issue. “You’ve knotted it wrong. Simple fix - alright, let’s try again.”

He waited almost holding his breath as she wound it up and then tried a couple of basic tricks. “Oi Dean.”

“What?” he sauntered over, Blaise trailing over with a shit eating grin.

“Catch,” she tossed it to Dean.

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“Show off, obviously,” she rolled her eyes. “Well as much as you can.”

“So glad we’re friends,” he groused, before flicking it out running through his basic tricks.

“You can do better than that,” she grinned.

“You only want to steal my best tricks,” Dean grinned back, whizzing it around him in such a way that she heard Snape start to squawk.

“Please, if I ever regress to that level, I’d steal tricks off Dennis first.”

Dean played with it for a few moments longer before tossing it back.

“So, what did you think?” Millicent asked.

“Of what?” Dean asked, confused.

“The yo yo,” Millicent didn’t explain further.

“It’s a yo yo, it works, feels alright.”

“That your expert opinion?” Millicent teased.

“In as much as we are, yes,” Dean held his hand out again, taking it back and turning it over, inspecting it properly. “It’s just a yo yo.”

“Dennis made that,” Millicent couldn’t help be a little proud. Even if she hadn’t taught him how to transfigure. She still felt a little responsible.

“What? Carved it?” Dean glanced at Dennis who’d turned bright red.

“Transfigured,” she informed him, not even hiding the fact that she was proud this time. “It’s his first successful one.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re what, second year?” Dean blinked.

“I’ll be in Fourth year,” Dennis sounded somewhat aggrieved.

“In fairness, you are tiny,” Millicent patted him on the head. “And Dean’s an idiot.”

“I’m pint sized,” his voice broke halfway through, flushing brighter than before.

“It’s good work,” she pretended not to have heard it, glaring at Blaise as he snorted again. “You should keep it and show the old cat- I mean your Head of House.”

There was no way the old moggy had attended, but Snape couldn’t be trusted not to shout at her for insulting the bag.

“It’s for you,” Dennis pressed it back into her hand after Dean handed it back to him.

“It’s yours,” Millicent ruffled his hair. “Something you can keep and look back on and be proud of.”

“Milly,” Daisy swept her away, before Dennis could say anything else.

“Hey Daisy, thank you for coming, you honestly didn’t need to.” Millicent accepted the hug. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Luisa offered to drive, and Molly has been such a blessing, we’re staying the night,” Daisy pulled her over to the Creevey’s. “Milly, meet Mr and Mrs Creevey, they’ve been curious to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she held her hand out, pleasantly surprised by the firm dry handshakes from both parents. “You have two talented boys.”

It seemed to be the right thing to say, getting caught up in talking weddings after Millicent explained Colin had taken photos for Gilly and Mary, both of whom were chatting with the Twin’s near the smoking wall. The married couple hustling over as Millicent waved them over.

“The photo’s were exquisite,” Mary gushed. “We brought the album, but a word of warning, we both cried over them they were so beautiful.”

“Have you shown Fleur?” Millicent asked. She wasn’t actively listening to the wedding planning, but Colin was pretty good.

“Fleur?” Mrs Creevey asked.

“Fleur is marrying into the Weasley clan, they are in full wedding preparation mode. I don’t know if they’ve thought about a photographer yet, but Colin’s got talent, and he did the best wedding I’ve ever attended’s photos, so it’s worth a shot. I can’t promise anything would come of it, but you should definitely speak to her, and Percy. Fleur’s the French Blonde - hanging off a Redhead. I’ll introduce you,” Millicent decided, sweeping the Creevey parents off to talk to Fleur and Percy, inadvertently rescuing them from Timmy’s chocolately paws.

“Oi scamp, where did you get chocolate from?” Millicent asked suspiciously, lifting him up at arms length. He’d smothered his cheeks in sprinkles and muddied chocolate smears.

“Dogman,” he pointed at Lupin and the other one.

“Bit rude,” Millicent tilted her head. “Accurate but rude.”

Bill winced as he caught sight of Millicent’s burden, but was intercepted by Molly who appeared from nowhere with a wet flannel and a big beaming smile.

“Whose my mucky pup?”

“I am!” Timmy squealed, squirming in Millicent’s grasp until Molly had wiped him clean. “More!”

“No more chocolate,” Molly took him by the hand, leaving Millicent alone for about a breath.

“Happy Birthday,” Harry mumbled, not quite looking at her in the eye.

“Thanks. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Harry lied, looking squirrelly. “Ron’s looking for me.”

“Right…” Fucking Potter. He was never right in a month of Sundays.

“Happy Birthday,” Ollie kissed her on the cheek, and Eric - that was a massive surprise, wished her the same kissing her on the other cheek. “Having a good day?”

“Well, yes,” she grinned. “Bill got me a tent for going hiking with. Can’t wait to use it, there’s a walk I wanted to do but Snape said I wasn’t allowed to. Well, sucks to be him, I’m doing it next year.”

Ollie glanced over her shoulder, laughing as she span around to check he wasn’t directly behind. “Fuck you, Ollie.”

“Millicent!” He pretended to be shocked, holding his hands up in peace as she growled. “This the one Bill was bitching about?”

“It’s not like he has to come,” Millicent shrugged. “Charlie’s up for it.”

“Which one?” Eric asked.

“The Pennine Way,” Millicent grinned. “It’s a long one, but should be good. I was going to talk to Mary and Gilly about maybe running it? Walking should take a week, but if I ran it, well, a marathon is twenty four miles and that takes what three or four hours, so two hundred and sixty eight should only take three days? It’s what, eleven marathons?”

“Have you tried running a marathon?” Ollie asked, as Eric looked a bit confused.

“Not an actual marathon, but I’ve run thirty miles in a day, wasn’t too bad. Not once I changed my trainers to trail runners,” Millicent shrugged. “And I can easily walk thirty miles a day. So I think if I work up to it, I could aim to run sixty miles in a day.”

“You should talk to the girls,” Ollie squinted at her maths. “I’m not a runner.”

“Well, that’s what I said. Anyway, that’s my plan for next year as I wasn’t allowed this summer, but then I did end up having a pretty great summer,” she paused. “I won’t stop thanking you for that.”

“Just passing it on,” Ollie shrugged. “Thanks for not messing up my reputation.”

She was given chance to chat a bit longer with Ollie and Eric, before being forced to put on a blindfold and guided to stand next to Bill who squeezed her hand when she started muttering that she was going to kill Blaise if he didn’t stop laughing at her.

Rustling, the sound of more walking sticks and the smell of potpourri, and then brilliant brightness as Bill removed it. The table was full of presents. And Mr and Mrs Smith were there.

“Hi,” she waved at them, slightly confused by the fact she was blindfolded for their arrival.

“Happy Birthday dear,” Mrs Smith chirped, already swigging sherry with Gran, Mr Smith looked almost asleep.

“Thanks for coming?” She offered, glancing up at Bill in confusion. “It was nice of you to take time out of your week away.”

“The presents,” Bill mumbled behind his hand.

“What?” She mumbled back.

“The presents are the surprise, not the Smiths.”

She took a moment to process, as everyone other than the Smiths, Gran and Timmy stared at her in some sort of anticipation. Her elves especially seemed to be vibrating with the intensity of their staring. Or in Blaise’s case, utter amusement. She was going to kill him.

“Why did they appear when my eyes were closed, then?” she hissed.

“They started drinking early,” Charlie answered not as quietly as she’d asked, after Bill shrugged helplessly. “Present time.”

“Right?”

“Your presents,” Bill hissed in her ear.

“Why?” She asked turning so her back was to everyone.

“It’s your birthday,” he explained. “People brought you gifts to celebrate.”

“It’s not how I celebrate my birthday,” she looked at him.

“It’s how we celebrate our birthdays,” he pointed out. “Now you're part of the family, this is what you have to deal with. So put your big girl britches on and start opening.”

“All of them?” Millicent checked.

“All of them.”

“Fucking hell,” she exhaled. “Someone better write down who gave what because I’m not going to remember for the thank you cards.”

“Mum’s got it covered,” he patted her on the shoulder.

“Can I have help?” she mumbled, chancing a glance at the table, ignoring the staring.

“No,” he turned her around, and pushed her gently to the table. “Birthday nerves.”

Some of the gifts were really useful, she was shocked. Blaise, who was the biggest piss taker this side of the equator, had given her a new stationary set, with a clipboard. For when she did assignments while patrolling. She’d grinned at that, she hadn’t realised anyone had noticed she’d been doing that last year.

Ginny’s nail file was gratefully received, especially after she told her to check the rest of the set and discovered there was a sharpening stone. For her penknife. Bill flicked Ginny on the ear, but kept his mouth shut after Millicent hugged her tightly.

Snape’s gift was less gift and more giving her and Blaise their prefect badges, which just made both sets of parents go teary eyed. And Colin took a photo of the pair of them holding them after Molly demanded it. Only the fact Blaise looked as uncomfortable as she felt, got her through the embarrassment.

Dante’s back catalogue came from Fred, of all the films he’d starred in. He’d carefully hidden the age stickers with smiley face stickers instead, and then hid them completely after Harry’s other guardian started muttering to Snape about them.

George, well, she’d opened it and Bill had glared at him. “Are these throwing axes?” Millicent checked as Bill was busy threatening his younger brother.

“You did say you wanted to try them,” George grinned unrepentant.

“Try, not buy her a set. I said you could take her to the range, not buy her her own set,” Bill hissed at him.

“It’s only open at strange times,” George’s grin grew even wider. “This way we can do it at home.”

“I can’t wait to try them!” Millicent hugged him tightly. “Second best present all day. Fred’s was almost number two, but no, these are definitely number two.”

She thanked Dean for the trick book he’d given her, one he used but she’d not seen before. Eric’s present was three recipes written out of her favourite drinks so far, after extracting a promise she wouldn’t share the recipe with anyone else.

Lupin and partner gave her a book on House Elves.

Gilly and Mary’s gift of a weekend orienteering in Wales, arranged already with Bill, was amazing, and she couldn’t wait.

She’d been pleasantly surprised when Colin gave her an album of photos of Millicent from the end of school, and from the wedding. Gran loved it, as had Molly, and Daisy even asked for a photo of Millicent in her school uniform. Even the Contessa seemed impressed of the one of Millicent and Blaise laughing as Ginny hung off her shoulders.

The Contessa’s gift was more for Mopsy, even if it was given to Millicent. A book on makeup application, including a large set of applicators and beginners makeup. They both stared at Mopsy who had toned down the amount of eyeshadow for the occasion even if it was less on her eyes and more on her forehead.

Charlie’s gift of a dragon claw, and a promise to do at least five big walks between this birthday and the next, had her almost giddy.

Daisy’s gift was a photo she’d not seen before of her Dad and Barry, with Daisy sat on a hay bale. “I found it when going through Farra’s things. I was five in that photo, your Dad must’ve been ten, Barry the same. Summer before your Dad disappeared for a few years,” Daisy explained. “I lost all of the photos of me as a kid when it happened. I’ve got more of me and Barry, but this was the only one of Castor.”

She did her best not to snot all over Daisy. Gran had a few photos of her Dad, but not many. Most of them were when he was an adult, after he’d come home.

Timmy’s gift was a hand drawn picture of Millicent, Timmy and the pigs. It was an excellent picture. She made sure he was thanked properly, after checking he’d not covered himself in stealth chocolate again.

Fleur and Percy chose to give separate gifts, which, well. Still, she saw why, Fleur had gifted her a raft of French language detective novels. So she could keep up with her French. As if that was going to encourage her, and not the fact that Audrey was living in France… Still, some of them were translations of books she’d already read so it would help with the gaps in her knowledge.

Percy on the other hand gifted her all of his old annotated text books for NEWTs and a promise to continue to help with her essays and sample papers.

Arthur and Molly gifted her a bedspread, one that Molly must have spent ages on, and Arthur promised more driving lessons, which she accepted with a squeal and a hasty look to check no adults who might ruin it for her said anything.

“We done?” Millicent checked, she was pretty sure she’d opened everything. Timmy had been happily shredding all the paper as she opened. Just to make sure there were no sweeties hiding in there. There hadn’t been any as yet, and she hoped Molly knew about pass the parcel, because Timmy really liked it as a game. He’d been to a party not long ago, and Daisy had roped Millicent and Ginny into several games since.

“Not quite,” Bill apologised, snorting softly as she let out a small whine.

“You haven’t had my gift,” Harry said nervously.

“Or mine,” Longbottom looked green.

“And mine is the best,” Dennis puffed his chest out, while Colin scurried off to the side with his camera out.

“That’s a claim,” Millicent narrowed her eyes at Dennis, she was highly suspicious. “It’s not a gold plated yo yo is it?”

“I want mine to go last,” Dennis glared at Harry and Longbottom.

“Such a little shit,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Dobby?” Harry asked, and Dobby did his best Dennis impression and vanished returning a moment later with an owl. As well as another larger owl. And a very large ornate cage with two colourful small birds in.

Millicent stared at them.

“Uh, so you don’t have to keep using Hedwig,” Harry looked uneasy. “He’s a Tawny Owl, called Patches. I don’t know about the others.”

Longbottom looked grey. “I got you an Eagle Owl, she’s called Chouette.”

Dennis was red. “Well, I got you a pair of Lovebirds. They haven’t got names, because you should be able to name them yourself. And I made you a cage. My Grandad raises them, and Dad helped me weld it together. It should be big enough for them.”

Millicent wasn’t sure what was going on. She could feel her mouth was open, but words weren’t happening.

“Well,” Molly sounded as stunned as Millicent felt.

“Uh,” Bill looked as confused as Millicent felt. “Right, so while almost everyone is here, before we eat, there is one more gift to give.”

Millicent could feel Snape staring hard at her as if she was responsible for the bird invasion.

“As some of you know,” Bill sounded puzzled, and she could see him staring at the three boys. “As some of you know, this year has been one of changes.”

Millicent couldn’t help but stare as Harry looked a bit happier, while Longbottom looked like he wanted to crawl into a heap. Blaise had crept around and was standing close enough to Dennis to stop him from tackling the other two. She just hoped he hadn’t brought a knife because he had that look about him.

“As a family, we’ve expanded,” he paused and there was a subtle pointing out of the extra partners before he carried on. “And we as a family have found ourselves entwined with Millicent’s.”

“It has been an experience, one that has left us all richer for, both with family and friends,” he paused as the Twins whistled loudly. “What some of you may not be aware of, is that Millicent accepted my Betrothal suit.”

“Millicent, this is the engagement ring my Grandmother wore,” he pulled out a necklace with a tiny ring as a pendant. “May I?”

Chapter Text

She was puzzled. And confused. And a bit pissed off. Molly intervened after Bill did the necklace thing, getting the elves to move the food out to fill the table.

“Alright?” Blaise asked quietly, a plate piled high of cold meats and salad.

“No.” Millicent didn’t see any point in trying to lie. “No, I am not.”

“You did tell Potter you didn’t want an owl,” he commented, as she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the collection of birds she’d acquired through no fault of her own. “No idea why Longbottom did it though.”

“But you know why Dennis did?” she asked in disbelief.

“He’s had the biggest crush on you for months, probably all year,” Blaise shrugged. “It’s not a bad present when you look at it. I’m impressed. It’s not often you get to see such a well thought out gift given. I’m also glad Fiona isn’t here, because creating a blatant declaration of his affections, while involving his family members, and gifting it in a very public space…”

“It is very romantic,” Ginny commented, side-eying Dean. “When you think about it.”

“He doesn’t have a crush,” Millicent huffed.

“He has the biggest crush,” Blaise said. “He looked heartbroken when Bill announced your betrothal. And then he looked determined, if I was Bill, I’d be watching my back.”

Bill would be fine, Dennis needed a good few years yet to be any threat to him. Probably. Although he had been reading the same books as Millicent recently, which involved a lot of murdering, usually through poisons and other sneaky happenstances so… She might mention that to Bill. Dennis was a little prick at the best of the times, but he wasn’t the sort to be sneaky about it. Dennis was more likely to challenge him to a duel. And he wasn’t stupid enough to do so without having a hope of winning. Bill was fine for a couple of years. Millicent might keep an eye on Dennis in the meantime, in case he decided to take up dueling.

“Dean, is Dennis in love with Milly?” Ginny asked her boyfriend, who as far as Millicent could tell, had been trying to inhale as much food as possible in the shortest amount of time.

“I don’t know about love, obsessed yes, but love?” Dean answered after swallowing down a hunk of cheese.

Blaise gave him a considering look.

“What?” Dean asked after swallowing another large bite.

“That was remarkably emotionally insightful,” Blaise even sounded a bit impressed.

“Why? Am I not allowed to understand emotions?” Dean snorted as Blaise grinned. “Snake.”

“And proud of it,” Blaise nudged Millicent.

“Snakes for life,” she hummed. Yeah no, Dennis was too much of a lion to go underhand. If he was a snake, then Bill would be in danger. Except she was pretty sure he’d need to fight his way through all the Weasley clan if the little she remembered about the contract was correct. She’d need to talk to Bill about that, whether that needed to be made public too.

“Outnumbered but never outclassed,” Blaise cut across whatever Dean was about to say, leaving Dean to take another bite of food instead.

“Colin,” Ginny called him over. All of the boys seemed to be starving judging by the piles of food on their plates.

“Ginny,” Colin looked spooked, keeping to the edge as if Millicent was about to eat him.

“Dennis is in love with Milly, right?” Ginny asked.

Colin paled, taking a step back. “I’m not getting involved.”

“Leave him alone,” Millicent sighed as Ginny started to move towards him. “I’ll talk to Dennis.”

“Probably best to leave it,” Blaise cautioned. Dennis was hiding with George by his parents. “You’ll see him in a couple of days, give him chance to recover.”

“Is Longbottom in love with me?” Millicent had a horrible thought.

“Don’t ask me,” Blaise shrugged.

“He never said anything to me,” Ginny squinted over to where Charlie, Harry and Neville seemed to be talking anxiously. “Dean?”

“Why are you asking me?” Dean glared at his girlfriend.

“Cos you share a dorm with him,” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I also share a room with Harry and Ron, and Seamus, are you going to ask if they are all in love with Milly?” Dean huffed.

“We all know Ron doesn’t,” Ginny huffed. “What do you talk about at night?”

“Yeah Dean,” Blaise grinned.

“Fuck off Zabini,” Dean gave him the evils.

“Better not be fucking talking about me,” Millicent stared at him.

“If they do, they don’t talk about it in front of me,” Dean returned to stuffing his face.

“Dean,” Ginny whined. “What do you talk about?”

“How shit the teachers are, how shit the weather is, how shit the food was, where socks are, who stole whose tie, the usual. Why, what do you talk about, Gin?” Dean asked. “Ranking the boys?”

“Eww, no, we talk about world domination,” Ginny grinned as Millicent high-fived her. “How about you two?”

“I talk to Mopsy so… How I’m a terrible person for not having seventeen children already,” Millicent grinned.

“Mopsy not be saying that!” Mopsy squawked from underneath the table.

“No, but what do we say?”

“Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves,” Mopsy sulked.

“And did we learn our lesson?” Millicent smiled sweetly.

“Mopsy knows things,” Mopsy stared at her.

“I’m not asking, and you are not telling me,” Millicent warned her. “Because this is a party, and we’re not ruining it.”

“You’ll make a fantastic mother some day,” Blaise pretended to wipe a tear away.

“Fuck off,” Millicent bodged him with her shoulder. “Later losers, I’m going to find the cool kids. Minus Ginny, because she’s in the top five cool kids.”

Instead of going to see Mary and Gilly, she got flagged down by Snape who had pinned Bill in a corner.

“Sir,” Millicent tugged Bill so he was no longer trapped.

“Don’t make a scene,” Snape stared at her.

“I wasn’t going to,” she wasn’t sure if that was a lie, but it wasn’t her intent. “What would you do?”

Bill choked. He probably misinterpreted her question, Snape hadn’t though. It did make her wonder how Snape would handle such a situation, probably with potions and sneers. Not quite her style.

“Don’t make me regret making you a prefect,” Snape warned.

“I won’t,” Millicent definitely lied that time. He also knew what he was getting into when he gave her and Blaise the badges.

“Mum’s calling us,” Bill dragged her away before she could lie some more.

It was only after the cake was revealed, candles blown out and the Happy Birthday song sung, that she got some answers.

“So it’s for Mopsy?” Millicent squinted at Longbottom - Neville, Mopsy was hanging off her hip, after Neville started to crick his neck talking to her.

“She did really well improving the soil,” Neville looked nervous and kept glancing over her shoulder.

“She did spend a lot of time working in the garden,” Millicent agreed. “She was obsessed.”

“Was not,” Mopsy pouted.

“It’s all you talked at me about for months,” Millicent disagreed. “You must have the patience of a saint.”

“It was nice?” Neville half squeaked. “Once I knew what she wanted help with.”

Millicent could only imagine how painful getting Mopsy to explain what she actually needed was. Nice didn’t spring to mind, infuriating, annoying, exhausting, all better words than nice.

“Did you want to see it?” Millicent asked. “Mopsy’s very proud of her work.”

“Didn’t win,” Mopsy sulked.

“Because you didn’t apply,” Millicent smiled sweetly. “But Mopsy could take you now to go see it, unless you don’t want to?”

“Neville has ideas about garden,” Mopsy hopped down to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Mopsy be taking now.”

“Not until he says he can, and we should probably get a responsible adult involved, just not Snape,” Millicent glanced about to see if there was a suitable one.

“I could,” Neville agreed cautiously.

“Arthur?” Millicent slipped over to him where he was talking to the Contessa. “Would it be alright if Mopsy took Neville to see the garden at Gran’s. He’s been helping her with it.”

“I’ll go with them,” Charlie answered for him.

“Just not in the house, or outside of the garden,” Millicent decided. She also slightly itched at the idea of Neville being in the garden, but he had gifted Mopsy an owl, and most importantly his time. He needed to be rewarded somehow for it.

“Do you want to come with us?” Charlie asked with a small smirk.

“Fuck off - I mean no, sorry Arthur,” Millicent wasn’t flustered, she wasn’t, fucking Charlie. “You only want to take him so you can - uh, steal some more of the lemon drizzle cake.”

“Great save,” Charlie patted her on the shoulder. “Dad already knows I smoke.”

“He’s an adult,” Arthur let out a small sigh. “Luisa, one day they are crawling around the floor, and then the next they are leaving the nest forever.”

“Dad,” Charlie groaned. “I’m going before he gets the baby photos out again.”

She didn’t regret a single second as Arthur patted the Contessa on the hand and took her into the house. If she was a dutiful friend and almost adopted sister, she’d warn the others, instead, she made it over to Gilly and Mary, who were grilling Ollie and Eric about their holiday plans.

“Speaking of, you’ll never guess who we saw on our honeymoon,” Mary gasped, and Gilly cackled. “Looking like an absolute Hippy.”

“Dumbles?” Millicent asked as a joke.

“Yes! We were out on a trip to see the Northern Lights and he was there, he even bought us a meal while we were there, which, Iceland is very expensive, he didn’t skimp, said it was a wedding gift,” Gilly carried on. “He did look like a hippy though.”

“Nice of him to buy us a meal,” Mary snuggled up to Gilly. “We said we’d send him a photo of the Northern Lights once they are developed. So pretty, better than we could see here.”

“I saw them on a cruise up from Oslo, stunning, absolutely stunning,” Eric agreed. “Makes you wonder about your place in the universe when you see them.”

“It’s here,” Millicent grinned. “At this exact spot, at this exact time.”

“Next to me,” Ollie said, leaning back into Eric.

“Is there a better place to be?” Millicent was fairly sure the only person who was supposed to hear that was Ollie, the girls had already started nuzzling each other over talks of their honeymoon. The amount of warm fuzzy feelings floating about as the two couples started gazing into each other's eyes was enough to send her running off to hide with Daisy again.

“Having fun?” Daisy asked, slipping an arm around Millicent’s. She’d been talking to Harry’s guardians again.

“I didn’t realise how thick the air got around loving couples,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “It’s like crawling through treacle.”

“Nice though,” Daisy sighed happily, with a familiar gleam in her eye.

“Not you too?” Millicent groaned. “It’s not the Vicar is it?”

“Milly!” Daisy burst into laughter.

“Well,” Millicent gestured. “Who else do you see a lot of? Unless it’s Joe? It’s not Joe is it?”

“He’s more like an Uncle,” Daisy reassured her. “It could be a woman.”

“It could be, but I doubt it,” Millicent agreed. “A woman would be preferable.”

Daisy simply laughed. “Well, it’s still early days.”

“Just make sure you don’t get married too soon,” Millicent warned her. “And I want to meet them before they move in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of moving anyone in without getting permission,” Daisy teased.

“Because you have to make sure you keep yourself safe,” Millicent frowned at her. “Joe said it was lucky you didn’t have black mould. Which is dangerous.”

“I know,” Daisy rubbed her arm. “Joe explained in great detail all the risks.”

“You’re family,” Millicent glared, her nose starting to twitch. “Even if you have bad taste in men.”

“You are family too,” Daisy gave her a tight hug. “Timmy’s got the best aunt in the world looking after him.”

Millicent sniffled, her eyes suddenly stinging as Daisy continued to hug her tightly. “You’re so like your Dad at times, a fierce protector. Almost as tall now too, the troll that he was.”

“I miss him,” Millicent whispered into Daisy’s hair. “It’s not fair.”

“It isn’t,” Daisy agreed with a watery voice. “It isn’t.”

Chapter Text

The school stank. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but it absolutely stank and even with the vast amounts of perfume slathered under her nose, she still could smell the stench of unwashed bodies.

“Look, you’ve heard Professor Snape’s rules. Now we have mine. For those who haven’t had the pleasure, this is my house. And in my house, we abide by my rules. If you don’t like it, you can talk to the Professor, or you can try and topple my rule. Good luck.
Rule 1: I don’t give a toss if you believe in blood rhetoric, in this house it doesn’t matter. We are first and foremost Slytherin. Nothing else matters. Daddy’s rich, don’t care. Mummy’s related to the Queen, whoop de doo. No one gives a stuff.
Rule 2: bathing is not an option. The school provides hygiene products. You might think you smell of roses but you honestly don’t. You need to clean your teeth a minimum of twice a day. Shower daily - doesn’t mean you need to wash hair daily, although some of you probably should. Deodorant - it’s not to look pretty. You will sweat. We live in the bowels of the school, you will walk forever. You will sweat. You will wear deodorant. If I catch anyone not, I will stand over you until you do.
Rule 3: we will get the best results in the school. We are the house of the ambitious. You need smarts to back it up.
Rule 4: do not get caught.
Rule 5: if someone insults you, feel free to let me know, I adore taking offence.
Rule 6: wash your hands. Go to the bathroom - wash your hands. Go to class and touch literally anything, wash your hands. Before you eat, wash your hands. The school is not clean, people are not clean. The first two weeks everyone spreads germs around like it’s a cool craze. It is not. Be better. Also cover your mouth when you sneeze people, preferably with a handkerchief.
Rule 7: no one owes you anything. Respect is earned. Treat others how you want to be treated, and if you see anyone who needs help, help them. They think we are the bad house. We aren’t.
Rule 8: Telling the truth and being mean are two different things. Sometimes it’s better to be blunt. But it is never better to be mean.
Rule 9: We are the best house. Remember that. We are the best, so we will be the best. And if you can’t be the best you can be, ask for help.” She smacked the list up onto the wall. “Blaise? Anything you’d like to say?”

He rolled his eyes at her with his back to the room, before turning around to address them. “We will have your back. Up to a point. If anyone has any concerns please raise it with a member of staff, or a prefect. There is a box where you can put anonymous concerns in if needs be.”

Millicent waved a dismissal before flopping by the fire and glaring at him. “Cast a freshening charm. Place stinks.”

“Yes Sir!” he saluted, rolling his eyes again. “It just smells a bit damp.”

“It stinks, it’s like everyone forgot how to bathe over the summer,” she growled, glaring at a seventh year who got a bit too close.

“It’s really not that bad,” Blaise settled down, Theo and Tracey reappearing looking fresh faced and slightly suspicious.

“If it doesn’t get better I’m not coming in here again,” she warned. “And then you’ll have to keep them all in check.”

“I’ll just use the threat of you on them,” he snorted.

Malfoy looked worse than ever, although after his dad got arrested for having numerous banned items, it probably wasn’t that surprising. He’d not acknowledged her at all, sticking with Crabbe and Goyle in the corner. Parkinson and Greengrass had their own clique in the opposite corner.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t top himself,” Millicent mentioned after a bit, interrupting the game of cards.

“He’s your bitch,” Theo snorted.

“He’s not my anything,” she denied. “I’ve been told to stay away from him. And not to actually kill him this year.”

“Snape told you that?” Tracey asked with some interest.

“Snape, Catbag, Molly, Arthur, Gran, the Weasley clan in general, Mr Hendry, Daisy, the Vicar, Mr and Mrs Smith,” Millicent reeled off, with Blaise smirking. “Even the Contessa suggested I shouldn’t. Oh and Ollie, Ollie said while on the whole, no one in the music industry cares overly about criminal records, unless I want to go into rap or hip hop, murder is a step too far. I did explain it would be justifiable homicide, but even so.”

“Ollie?” Tracey frowned.

“Wood, Oliver Wood. He works for a record company and got me work experience during the summer, it was the best,” Millicent sighed. “Gran wanted me to finish up here, otherwise I would’ve accepted the placement offer. Apparently, I have good taste and a can-do attitude.”

“You scared someone silly,” Blaise grinned.

“Consent matters,” Millicent purred. “It matters a lot. If he wanted to keep his bollocks, he should’ve asked first.”

“Police involved?” Tracey asked with growing interest.

“It was decided that he didn’t want molesting a minor on his rap sheet, and I was satisfied by scaring the shit out of him. And then Molly got Snape involved and I got a bonus,” she radiated with glee. “And I get to go to New York in Oct for a weekend. With an escort, all expenses paid and we’re going to see some bands play. And we get backstage access.”

“Politics is out then,” Blaise teased.

“I mean, it would still be nice to take over the country, but music is life.” Millicent gave a helpless shrug. “Ollie’s alright too, and so is Eric. How about you two, get up too much? Blaise is boring as anything.”

“I moved in with my Aunt,” Theo shrugged. “Spent most of it with Tracey.”

“We had fun though,” Tracey nudged him with her elbow, and he nodded. “Went to Rome again, and Barcelona. Mum’s planning Yule in Norway, and Theo’s aunt says he can come with us, so that’ll be fun.”

“Mum’s dating again, an Australian this time,” Blaise rolled his eyes. “She’s considering a hot Yule.”

“It’s still summer and we’re talking about Winter already,” Millicent groaned. “That said, I’ll be at Gran’s, or the Weasley’s, either or. Probably both.”

“I bet it's loud,” Theo mumbled.

“Yeah,” Millicent grinned. “Harry and his lot came last year, and Snape.”

The other three shuddered. “He wasn’t terrible, it was good having someone who got sorted into the right house there. They are all so…”

“Red?” Tracey filled in.

“Yeah, and stupid. Or not all of them. But Ron, fucking hell is he - OI!” Millicent shot up to her feet and stamped her way over to Goyle who had his hand wrapped around Malfoy’s throat. “What the fuck did I just say.”

Crabbe hovered looking torn and Malfoy’s feet started to dangle.

“Put him the fuck down now,” Millicent growled. “Mopsy, get Snape.”

The common room was silent as Goyle stood still, Malfoy growing fainter.

“If you don’t put him down this second I will do it for you.” She warned, giving him five seconds before grabbing his hand and prying it open. Malfoy dropped to the floor, and Blaise grabbed him up, his wand in his hand.

“I’ll take him to Matron,” Theo said, wand also in hand, Tracey had hers by her side, eyes flashing with warning.

Goyle started to huff like an enraged bull, and Millicent pinned him to the wall, arm across his throat, while Blaise stood guard. The rest of the common room was filtering out when Snape appeared looking irate.

“What is going on?”

“Goyle decided to strangle Malfoy, and wouldn’t let him go. I broke his fingers getting them open. He looked like he was going to attack again.”

“Release him.” She obeyed, stepping away. “Where is Mr Malfoy?”

“Nott took him to Matron,” Blaise answered, keeping his wand in hand. Crabbe had gone almost as pale as Malfoy had been.

“Mr Goyle, my office. Mr Crabbe, you will wait with Professor Lupin until I am free. Miss Bulstrode, Professor Vector’s office. Mr Zabini and Miss Davies to your dorms,” Snape instructed.

“Sir, a word, please,” Millicent didn’t let her gaze slip from Goyle.

“Can it wait?” He asked exasperatedly.

“No Sir,” she twitched as Goyle started to huff again. “Blaise.”

“I see it,” he stepped next to her.

“What is it Miss Bulstrode,” Snape addressed her.

“I don’t think you should be alone,” she said, not letting her gaze drop.

“I assure you I am more than capable of dealing with a student,” he snapped.

“Sir, I really don’t think you should be alone,” Millicent saw Goyle twitch and Crabbe cringe away.

“I agree,” Blaise added his knuckles whitening.

All it took was Snape to turn to address them both when Goyle lurched forward, a blade emerging from his wrist, Blaise shouting out a protego while Millicent shot forward bashing him into the wall again, this time wrenching his wrist behind his back.

Davis had her wand trained on Crabbe who had moved further back, trembling. Snape petrified Goyle who had turned red, heaving and foaming at the mouth. “Miss Davis, if you could alert Professor Lupin.”

“Sir,” Davis shot out, Blaise training his wand onto Crabbe who was hyperventilating in the corner, and Millicent removed the knife from Goyle, kicking it to the side.

“Miss Bulstrode, can I trust you to keep watch while I check for weapons,” Snape said calmly.

“Yes Sir.”

He’d removed two more knives, and Goyle’s wand by the time Lupin, the deputy and Headmaster appeared, sweat pouring down Goyle’s face. Millicent snarling as Lupin entered, the stench of wolf filling the room even over Crabbe’s fear.

“Mr Zabini, Miss Bulstrode, Miss Davis, perhaps you could go and check up on Mr Malfoy. Professor Lupin, if you would be so kind as to take Mr Crabbe to your office,” Snape kept his wand trained on Goyle. “You will not talk about this incident with anyone else until you have spoken to us. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir,” they agreed, Millicent staring at Goyle as he started to move even under the petrification.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape said gently.

“Yes Sir,” she nodded, not moving until Blaise tugged at her arm.

Theo was sat next to Malfoy’s bed, his wand tapping at his side as they entered, looking relieved as he spotted them. Blaise shook his head.

“How is he?” Millicent asked without actually looking at Malfoy.

“Alive, just,” Theo tipped his head to the Matron. “Ingested something.”

“Fucking Malfoy,” she hissed leaning over to snag his notes from the bottom of the bed, Blaise moving to hide her actions. Poison, strangulation, a stab wound. Goyle aimed to kill, and wasn’t prepared to miss it seemed.

“Someone’s sending a message,” Blaise murmured in her ear.

“Well, we can’t have people sending messages without going through the correct channels now can we.” Goyle was a prick at the best of times, but he’d been one of Malfoy’s staunchest allies, even through the first year where Malfoy had little to go for him. “People might start getting ideas about who's in charge.”

Blaise smirked, settling back replacing the notes as the Matron bustled over, running a hand over Millicent whilst tutting. “Headaches?”

“Only since being back, so all of five hours,” she rolled her eyes, biting back a grin as Blaise pulled a face behind Matron’s back. “School stinks.”

“Half the rules for the house are on hygiene,” Blaise chirped helpfully.

“Because they are all filthy urchins who’d fit in well with Joe’s pigs,” Millicent hissed. “They should all be ashamed of how feral they smell. Did everyone forget how to wash over the summer?”

“Anything else?” Matron asked, running hands over Millicent’s neck. “Increased appetite, aggression, awareness?”

“No more so than usual,” she shrugged. “It was a little easier coming back this year. Not as itchy.”

“Someone stepped on her foot and she didn’t throw them off the staircase,” Theo offered.

“I have never thrown anyone off a staircase,” Millicent moved back so she could glare at Theo. “Not even by accident.”

“Crabbe stopped Malfoy last year,” Blaise helped.

“He stumbled, I didn’t touch him,” she hissed.

“Not what he said, or Crabbe, or Greengrass.”

“Lackies don’t count, just like why you don’t count when people accuse me of stuff,” she sniffed. “Loyalties already drawn, doesn’t count.”

“Hardly a lackey,” Blaise scoffed.

“To them you are, no offence Matron,” Millicent flicked a quick smile at the Matron who merely looked amused.

“None taken, I’m aware it is viewed as very much a them and you between staff and students,” she clucked. “Less aggression this term?”

“Easier handled, perhaps?” Millicent thought about it. “I think so anyway.”

Chapter Text

The noise, the smell, the chaos as everyone caught up on gossip from the summer, and then the gossip from the night before. Running George ragged through the woods while Dennis tried to keep up. He did better than she thought he might considering George had been running with Millicent most of the summer.

She was dragged into a meeting with Professor Sprout almost immediately, with Snape, Mopsy and Neville of all people.

“Have you any desire to do this course?” wasn’t sure who blabbed, but the Professor looked dubious. Mopsy on the other hand was glaring daggers at Millicent.

“Honestly? No. But Mopsy wants to learn,” Millicent answered after a moment of reflection. “I looked at the syllabus, and it’s not difficult. The amount of essays in comparison to Runes or Charms is negligible. It won’t do me any harm, and it might even give my brain a break. It’s outdoors, so the stench of unclear children won’t be a problem.”

“If,” Professor Sprout looked at Snape. “If we allowed Mopsy to do the course, with some caveats, would you still want to do the course?”

“What caveats?” Millicent tried to ignore Mopsy vibrating next to Neville.

“She wouldn’t be required to do written coursework, she wouldn’t get graded, and she would need to be inconspicuous,” Professor Sprout reeled off. “She also wouldn’t be allowed to break into records or take supplies without prior permission.”

Millicent glanced at Mopsy who dipped her head. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why the Professor specifically added that.

“What about the group projects?” Millicent asked, she knew there were at least two per year.

“I’d happily work with Mopsy,” Neville answered, glancing at Professor Sprout.

“It would give you more time for your other studies,” Snape finally added to the conversation. “But it would reduce the amount of NEWTs you’d be doing.”

“Mopsy could do written work,” Mopsy said quietly.

“You wouldn’t be able to get marked for it, not officially,” Professor Snape stated firmly.

“I think there would be uproar if you managed to get a NEWT in Herbology,” Millicent bit back a grin as Neville glanced at Professor Sprout.

“Not without getting an OWL first,” she mused, looking at Snape.

“We are not inviting trouble,” he snapped.

“I did buy the textbooks for the next two years, and all the supplies,” Millicent mentioned, looking at Mopsy. “And I can help. I won’t do it, but I can help with how to write essays.”

“You won’t be marked on the exam,” Professor Sprout said finally. “We won’t send it off, but I will mark your written work.”

Mopsy burst into tears, throwing herself at Professor Sprout’s legs.

“Elf,” Snape sighed. “Stop that.”

“We will be keeping this very quiet,” Professor Sprout warned.

“Naturally,” Millicent agreed. The outrage would be immense. She doubted even Percy could fix it if it all blew up in their faces. He was good, but, maybe not that good.

“And if she struggles, then we will have to rethink,” this was said more to Neville who gave a tiny nod.

“I don’t think she will,” he murmured. Millicent was beginning to wonder exactly how closely they’d been working together.

“I’ll do my best,” Mopsy promised, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“Can I use your study room?” Neville asked quietly after they’d been dismissed.

“Technically it’s not my study room,” Millicent glanced at the door in case Snape was lurking. “Yes though. Blaise uses it, so does Dean and Ginny if you're prepared to deal with lovebirds. Fiona doesn’t so Blaise isn’t completely insufferable. To work with Mopsy?”

“Common room is louder than ever,” he grimaced. “Library is always busy.”

“You know where it is?” she checked, she’d not seen him there but as he did know about it.

“Harry said you wouldn’t mind,” he looked a bit sheepish.

“Well if Harry said,” Millicent grinned as he blanched. “Should be fine. Just don’t use my desk, all I ask. It has my name on it.”

“I wouldn’t, promise.”

“Thought you wanted to be an Auror,” she muttered as Harry sidled up to her in Care of Magical Creatures.

“I’m going to be a magical vet instead,” he grinned. “Ron’s still planning on it though. Kicked up a bit of a fuss, cos now he has to find a new partner, but, I was talking with Charlie-“

Millicent burst into laughter. “Bet Catbag was thrilled when you told her.”

“Siri’s happier,” Harry grinned. “Molly wanted me to promise I wouldn’t specialise in Dragons, one child is enough to be worrying about.”

“Does the whole snake-speaking thing apply to dragons?”

“It didn’t two years ago,” he shrugged. “I was thinking I’d like to be more of a big animal vet though, exotic. Hagrid’s happy.”

“I bet he is,” she laughed again, as Hagrid waved at the pair of them as they waited for the others to arrive. It wasn’t a busy class, not like Charms had been, or Transfig, which she’d ended up being signed up into after Snape decided that a busy Millicent was less likely to cause problems than one with time to waste.

Fiona joined them after there was an odd number for group work, and they were given their first research project.

“Conservation,” Fiona answered Harry’s question. “Several species are on the critically endangered list, and my family works in ingredients. Supplying potioneers, tailors and wand makers.”

“I want to be a vet,” and that was that. Blaise looked somewhat confused when Harry and Fiona joined them for the evening meal, carrying on their conversation from earlier, to the point where they had to be reminded to eat.

“Has Potter stolen my girlfriend?” Blaise asked in confusion.

“Maybe,” Millicent shrugged. “At least you didn’t lose her to someone truly embarrassing, like Ron.”

They both looked over to where Ron was busy stuffing his face next to Dean and snorted.

“Could be worse,” Blaise agreed.

“Alright, so,” Dean threw his bag down on the desk next to Millicent.

“What?” She looked up from finishing off her first Potion’s assignment on the efficacy of using different materials with certain ingredients.

“Muggle Club,” he said, before kicking at Blaise’s chair, forcing him to look up. “You as well.”

“I thought we agreed on lunchtime discussions for Muggle Club,” Blaise sighed. “And shouldn’t Dennis be here?”

“That’s why we’re talking about it now,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Lupin said we need more girls leading.”

“Dennis is like a girl?” Millicent stretched, rolling her shoulders back.

“Did point out with George, we had three boys and one girl last year,” Dean pulled a face.

“We should have a Ravenclaw,” Blaise pointed out. “And a Hufflepuff.”

“Has someone complained?” Millicent checked suspiciously. It sounded like a Granger complaint.

“Not that he said,” Dean looked dubious.

“Oi, Potter!” Millicent threw her rubber at him.

“Harry,” he threw it back.

“Has Granger been bitching about Muggle club?” She asked, Dean and Blaise staring at Harry as he looked confused. “Someone’s been complaining about not having enough girls leading it.”

“Lupin didn’t say someone had, but if anyone has, bet you it was Granger,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Hermione isn’t bothered about Muggle Club,” Harry shrugged. “She’s got her study group.”

“No one’s said anything I’ve heard,” Neville piped up nervously from next to him. He’d been talking quietly with Mopsy with a pile of books between them and a pot of dirt.

“You need to talk to Fiona to make sure the Puff’s aren’t upset with us about it,” Millicent poked Blaise. “And we need to find a Ravenclaw girl. Lovegood probably would lead.”

“She’s not Muggleborn,” Harry said.

“Neither am I,” Blaise rolled his eyes. “And why can’t you talk to Fiona?”

“Because I’m not the one sticking my tongue down her throat,” Millicent flicked him on the arm. “And I’m going to get Ginny to talk to Lovegood. That counts as female and Ravenclaw. And she’s what, fifth year now? So we can get her trained up to take over when we piss off.”

“She’s a flake,” Dean said with a look at Ginny, who was doing her best to sleep through the talking.

“Just because she’s had her tongue down your girlfriend's throat,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Oi, Gin.”

“Fuck off,” Ginny rolled over, burying her head under one of the throw pillows Mopsy had found to “decorate” the study room with.

“You’ve got four assignments already, should already be started,” Millicent lobbed the rubber at her back. “And you need to convince Lovegood to step up and help lead Muggleclub. It’ll do her good.”

“No,” Ginny’s reply was muffled.

“Or I’m going to tell Molly about who actually broke her vase,” Millicent purred.

“Fuck you,” Ginny glared.

“I’m good,” Millicent winked as Ginny screamed into the pillow.

“That’s the last time you can use that against me,” Ginny pointed a finger in Millicent’s general direction, which might have been more effective if her head wasn’t hidden.

“I agree to those terms. But Lovegood either needs to accept, or she needs to get us another Ravenclaw girl to do it,” Millicent clarified the terms.

“There is another option,” Blaise mentioned, looking at his fingernails instead of Millicent.

“Oh?”

“We could just ask someone in Club if they want to help?” He said it with such confidence that there was an audible gasp from Neville.

“Ignore them, they are always dramatic,” Harry muttered.

“Says you,” Millicent hissed at him.

“It’s why I’m in such good company,” he grinned at her.

“Fuck off,” she huffed. “Anyway, what if we get someone we don’t want to join us?”

“You got rid of Umbridge,” Dean said after a moment.

“Did not. Percy got rid of Umbridge,” Millicent said truthfully because whilst she might have liked to have that on her scorecard, Percy really was the one to see it through.

“It’d take someone like you, to stay where they weren’t welcome,” Blaise pointed out.

“What if they are like me?” Millicent asked with growing concern.

“Granger’s the closest we’ve got, and she’s not interested according to Potter,” Blaise countered.

“Harry,” Harry muttered. “And she doesn’t see the point of Muggle Club.”

“Because she’s an idiot,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“She’s my friend, one of my best friends,” Harry valiantly defended her.

“Blaise is my friend, and he’s an utter idiot,” Millicent parried.

“We’re friends,” Blaise mock sobbed, dabbing at his dry eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief.

“Is that gold thread?” She asked suspiciously.

“Silver,” he rolled his eyes. “Our house colours, honestly Mil Mil- NO STOP ARGH!”

She hissed as he screeched, racing to cower behind Neville and Mopsy as if that would stop her.

“I’ll scrub your mouth out with soap if you don’t stop with that shit.”

“Mils!”

“No, from now on, until you earn it back, it’s Bulstrode only, and I’m going to work with Potter-“

“Harry,” Harry mumbled.

“In what’s that class we’re sharing?”

“Potions? I mean we’re already working together in Care of Magical Creatures, but Blaise isn’t taking that one. Charms?” Harry offered.

“You are shit at Potions, so yeah, Charms. From now on -“

“I was going to pair up with Hermione for Charms,” Harry piped up. “I’m not shit at Potions.”

“You are,” Blaise agreed with Millicent.

“I don’t even understand why you carried it on,” Dean added.

“He wants to be a Magical Vet,” Millicent answered.

“Magizoologist,” Blaise corrected.

“No,” Harry frowned. “I want to be a vet, but specialising in Magical creatures.”

“I do listen,” Millicent preened. “Making me a better friend than Dean is a dorm mate.”

“Why throw me under the bus?” Dean squawked.

“I knew,” Neville half squeaked.

“In fairness, Dean’s been busy,” Harry defended him. “He’s not spent much time in the Dorms or common rooms.”

“Because he’s woken up to the better way of life,” Millicent grinned as Blaise made noises of agreement.

“I’m taking my education and future career path seriously,” Dean huffed. “And trying to spend time with my girlfriend, who has decided she hates the common room.”

“Because Milly’s here,” Ginny lied. “Got to take on George’s responsibility.”

“Fuck off,” Millicent kicked her gently.

“Alright, Ron’s an arse again. He wants me to give up Seeker for Harry, and he’s convinced a load of them that the only way we’ll win is if we have our star player back,” Ginny pulled at her hair.

“Sorry Gin,” Harry looked faintly apologetic. “I’ll explain to everyone that I’ve given up flying for now. Say it’s because of Voldemort or something.”

“Is it though?” Dean asked.

“Everyone already expects me to take on Voldemort. Being responsible for catching the snitch every time is impossible. They either love me or hate me,” Harry groaned. “Takes all the fun out of it. So I’m going to disappear into the background and leave Ginny to it.”

“Like anyone cares that much,” Millicent scoffed, blinking as Blaise rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You might not care, but plenty of other people do,” he retorted.

“Agree to disagree.”

“We could put it to a vote,” Blaise said. “All those who think most of the school cares that much about Quidditch raise hands now.”

Millicent scoffed as everyone other than Mopsy raised their hand.

Chapter Text

Doctor Withers, not Professor, Doctor Withers, could easily have been Snape’s twin. Down to the hooked nose and sallow skin. Blaise gave Millicent a look as they sat down in class as she wrote down her name and underlined it several times on the board.

World History. Never before had such words caused such a stir. Millicent must have been the only one who’d heard the news because even Blaise perked up.

“Miss Bulstrode, a moment,” Doctor Withers called her over as the lesson finished, Blaise lingering in the doorway before going at a look.

“Doctor Withers,” Millicent took a moment to calm down.

“The work was up to standard,” Doctor Withers pulled out a sheaf of papers that had Millicent’s writing all over them. “What do you plan to do with History going forward?”

“I enjoy it,” Millicent answered. “Frankly though, Doctor Withers, my plan is to leave for the Muggle world the moment I’m able to.”

“You enjoy History?” Doctor Withers passed them back after a small pause.

“Love it,” Millicent nodded, trying not to start gushing.

“Why?”

“It’s what makes us who we are, it’s the blueprint to our future, to know where we started is to know what we’ll become. A lot more accurate on a global scale than divinity,” Millicent gabbled. “To know what caused events, what the outcomes were and the ripple on effects. Muggle History was much more interesting, I won’t lie, it’s hard to get excited about Wizards not learning. The chance to learn about more than just the continual attempted genocide of Goblins? Maybe there is something worth liking about the wizarding world?”

Doctor Withers turned to check her desk. “I won’t treat you any differently because of your connection to William.”

“I didn’t expect it,” Millicent promised.

“He said you wouldn’t,” she pursed her lips. “You are a little young, in five years no respectable being will take any note.”

Millicent stood still while Doctor Withers dissected her with her gaze. “Dismissed.”

“Alright troops,” Millicent stood up ignoring the head table, addressing the Great Hall. “Muggle Club is coming back on Monday evenings, a show of hands for those who are going to attend.”

Dean whistled as a good third of the hands shot up. “Right well, we’ll need a bigger room then. Anyone interested in helping run things, make yourself known to either Dean, Blaise or myself over the next few days. A reminder, Muggle Club is open to everyone, you don’t have to have Muggle blood to join, just a desire to listen to music, play board games and learn tricks. We’ll feed back by Sunday with the location for Monday’s meet.”

“Thank you, Miss Bulstrode,” Snape hissed as she sat down.

“Who wants to tell Lupin?” She asked her two co-leads.

“Not it,” they both said.

“I mean, he should know right?” They all turned to stare at the Professor who looked pained, especially as he caught sight of the three of them staring at him. “Yeah, he knows. We’ll pester him Friday if he’s not got back to us.”

“Where is your wand?” Catbag smacked the desk in front of Millicent.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

“In my bag,” she barely managed not to roll her eyes. They didn’t need wands out, they weren’t doing anything with them. They were listening to a lecture on the perils of animagi, which seemed to be more directed at some than others. Clearly, she didn’t believe Millicent wanted to learn, but others - mainly Catbag’s own house all were given stern pointed looks throughout.

“Tell me two reasons why it’s dangerous to turn into an animal without supervision.” Fucks sake.

“Because it’s illegal, and it’s really blooming stupid,” Millicent was proud she didn’t swear even though she really wanted to. “Anyway, it’s not that useful. If you want to fly, you can use a broom, if you want to be invisible, there are charms for that. If you want to lick your backside, well, there are people who’ve had their ribs removed, or potions to do the same thing. In fact, didn’t a teacher use a spell on Potter that removed bones, so, yeah, it’s not that useful. And the risks far outweigh any benefits. And if you do it legally, then there is a register saying what animal you are, and people do know how to ward against them.”

“As you have such a passionate opinion on the subject, I shall expect a parchment of no less than twenty-four inches, by next week,” Catbag snapped.

“Professor,” Millicent actively fought rolling her eyes.

“And the rest of you, fifteen inches on the perils of transforming,” Catbag continued.

“You don’t think you dismissed Professor McGonagall’s profession?” Snape asked dryly, having hauled Millicent in to rake her over the coals over the Great Hall incident, with Lupin sitting in instead of Catbag.

“No, I just said I didn’t see the point of being an animagus. It’s not her profession,” Millicent puffed her cheeks out. “I didn’t swear, I didn’t roll my eyes, I listened even when she lectured at the stupid house - sorry, her house.”

“Why didn’t you have your wand out,” he ignored the snort from Lupin.

“Why bother? We weren’t using them. I don’t get my pencils out either when I’m in class, or my biros, instead I take notes using a stupid quill like a muppet,” Millicent shrugged. “Taking notes is much faster with my notepad and biro than a quill and parchment.”

“In future, in all of your Transfiguration classes, have your wand to hand,” he carried on.

“Right,” she huffed. “Any other complaints about my behaviour?”

“Almost everyone is highly complimentary, surprisingly,” he admitted. “The work you’ve handed in so far, as I expected it to be, is of the highest quality. Professor Flitwick has extended the invitation again to join his cypher club.”

“I don’t have time,” she was actually sad about that. She just about had enough time to do all of her classes and assignments and deal with Muggle Club. She had used one for her first parchment for Flitwick though, for old times sake.

“Against her better judgment, Professor McGonagall has offered the option of a time turner, something that has been offered before to a student,” he sneered.

“No thanks,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “If it gets too much I’ll just dump Transfig, obviously Potions would be the last thing I cut.”

“I declined the offer,” Snape sniffed. “In future, ask permission first to address the school during meal times. It could be seen as undermining the Headmaster.”

“Oh no,” Millicent said, bored.

“The only room big enough will be the Great Hall,” Lupin added his tuppence in.

“I’ll let everyone know then,” she shrugged. “We can do some outside, weather dependent. And we’ve asked for more people to help. So no one can complain.”

“No one complained,” Lupin explained.

Snape and Millicent both exchanged a look.

“You must admit, only having male leads is a bad look,” Lupin carried on.

“What am I?” Millicent snorted. “Anyway, Granger can suck it. Dean wanted to do it more than I did, and we needed a pureblood so they couldn’t complain that we were discriminating against the pureblood sods. It’s not like we’ve said I want to be the only girl. Only Dennis has asked to do anything so far, and we’ve been doing it a term.”

“With almost half the school attending, you will need a range of leads,” Lupin soldiered on, ignoring her Granger comment, which meant the bitch had bitched about it.

“Well, the invitation to help has been opened up to everyone, so no one can complain,” Millicent huffed. “Dennis wants to do stuff, and as he’s really the only reason why we even have a Muggle Club, I will actually fight anyone who has a problem with it.”

“You will not fight anyone,” Snape snapped at her. She pretended to agree, not that he seemed to buy it.

“Dean won’t step down. He must have been dropped repeatedly on his head, and has this stupid desire to want to teach going forward. He thinks it’s a great experience. I think he needs to see the Matron, but that’s beside the point. Blaise would but I won’t let him unless we can get another high-standing Pureblood to step into his role. George technically isn’t a lead, he’s now staff right, so it’s only swapping like for like, and no one bitched last year about there being three males one female.”

“Language,” Snape snapped again.

“Sorry, whinged.”

“No one has complained,” Lupin lied.

“Look, we all know this has Granger written all over it, she was stopped with that stupid SPEW thing, and then her asinine Dumbledore’s Army. So now she’s bored and wants something to rage against, well she can fuck right off if she’s coming-“

“Language,” Snape didn’t quite snap this time.

“She can get stuffed then, if she thinks she’s turning Muggle Club, into her own personal tilting at windmills,” Millicent scowled. “And if she wants me to tell it to her face, I will happily do so, the ignorant little harpy.”

“You will not talk to Granger,” Snape warned her.

“It wasn’t Miss Granger,” Lupin said firmly.

“Someone said something, and the only one with that much of a hardon for a personal crusade,” Millicent crossed her arms mulishly.

“It couldn’t have come from the teaching staff?” Lupin asked dryly.

“Did it?” Millicent countered. He didn’t say anything. “Thought as much. Like the teachers care what happens in any of the extracurricular clubs. Alright, so who do I have to ask permission to talk to the school at meal time?”

“You are not inviting an argument at meal time,” Snape hissed at her.

“Well, if they have the balls to say it behind my back, then they can have them to say it to my face,” Millicent hissed back.

“Enough. You will leave it alone. Do I make myself clear?” He glared at her.

“No, not when it’s being attacked by malicious malcontents who have nothing better in their lives than spreading discontent and discourse,” she glared back.

“Leave it alone.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Look, it was Daisy,” Lupin confessed. Millicent thought her head was going to snap spinning so fast to stare at him.

“What?”

“Daisy mentioned that maybe there should be more females leading,” Lupin said quietly.

“Why on earth would Daisy be interested in Muggle Club? She doesn’t even know about Muggle Club!”

“We were having a drink, and I mentioned that I was roped into being the teaching adviser for your club,” Lupin shrank back under their glares.

“Why were you having a drink with Daisy?” Millicent hissed. “And why were you talking about me?”

“We weren’t talking about you,” Lupin looked a bit offended. “We were talking about the life of a boarding school teacher.”

“How often are you out drinking with Daisy?” She dug her fingers into the chair to stop from launching at him. “Where’s Timmy when you’re out trying to get in her pants?”

“Millicent!” Lupin barked.

“Oh, sorry, was that offensive?” she hissed back. “That’s my big sister. Or Aunt. Either way, she’s family, close family. So no, you don’t get to hide from this. How often are you out drinking with Daisy? What intentions do you have? Her last partner, Timmy’s dad ended up in prison. If you even make her sniffle, you’ll wish you were in prison.”

“I don’t have any intentions-“

“I will kill you,” Millicent snarled.

“We’re friends,” Lupin shouted.

“That’s what they all say, and then she ends up pregnant, and he’s a bloody drug dealing, tax evading, gun running prick,” she threw her hands up. “I’ll just ask her on Friday. So you might as well tell me now. Because if I find out you’ve been messing her around, I will have your head on the garden wall. Or hers. As a warning.”

“We are only friends,” Lupin sighed. “And I don’t take kindly to being threatened.”

“That was not a threat. That was a promise,” she narrowed her eyes. “I promised Snape I wouldn’t threaten any more.”

“Professor Snape,” Snape hissed.

“Professor Snape,” she agreed. “Also you shouldn’t feed Timmy chocolate unless you are going to look after him afterwards. He gets it everywhere.”

“I didn’t feed Timmy chocolate,” Lupin looked confused.

“At my ridiculous birthday party, and should you be telling toddlers you're a werewolf? Does Daisy know? That’s something you need to tell someone about before you enter into any kind of arrangement. Daisy is pretty easygoing, she’d probably just pat you on the head and throw you a bone, but still,” Millicent wrinkled her nose.

“I didn’t feed Timmy chocolate,” Lupin said. “And no, Daisy isn’t aware of my werewolf status.”

“Well, Timmy knows,” Millicent sniffed. “He called you dog man. Which, I did tell him was rude, but still. Timmy is fairly bright, but he’s not bright enough to work it out without being told.”

Lupin blanched and stared at Snape who hissed. “We have strayed from the original topic. You will treat your Professors with respect.”

“Yes Sir,” Millicent shrugged. She’d treat them with the respect they deserved. “You need to tell Daisy if you’re going to pursue anything. Otherwise, I’ll help her skin you.”

“Bulstrode,” Snape warned.

“Respectfully, Sir,” Millicent smiled, a full toothy smile at Lupin.

Chapter Text

Daisy promised she didn’t fancy the beige cardigan-wearing wolf. Well, she hadn’t mentioned the wolf part. She did say she’d been seeing someone, just casually at the moment as he was having problems. Which, when Millicent was talking to Bill about later, was a given. Bill claimed not to know who it was, but she was fairly sure he had an idea.

Her second driving lesson went well, with them stalling twice, and only narrowly missing a ditch, but, she’d driven up to the church, very very slowly, and then back again, without scratching the paintwork once. She’d definitely collected some leaves and twigs, but nothing that didn’t brush off when they got back.

The first packet from the Education Board was waiting on the table, with her spending the rest of her Saturday eyeballs deep in maths and politics, relocating after Winky insisted on having the table back for the evening meal. Sunday was spent reading through the first month of Law work, before redoing the maths from the day before, ready to send off to be marked for her baseline.

By the time she was done with it all, her brain was fair exploding with new information, and only Percy seemed thrilled by the random facts she’d picked up. Which, to be fair to Bill, he’d already heard as she’d used him as a sounding board for her ideas as she was noting down the first draft of her assignments.

“You don’t think you’ve taken on too much, dear?” Molly asked, brushing the hair back from Millicent’s fairly sweaty forehead. She’d chosen to sit next to the fire, her back against the leg of Gran’s chair as they’d read the latest chapter of the spy thriller Gran picked up. It wasn’t quite as good as a Le Carre, but there’d been a few moments where Millicent felt the peril.

“No?” Millicent checked. “I might take some of the maths to do at Hogwarts, because it’s fun. But I don’t think so, or not yet. I may change my mind when it comes to the exams. If anything I’m doing less now it’s not the GCSEs. It’s just brand new things, rather than building on things we already know. It’s fascinating, like a brand new world. Everything’s unknown to me.”

“David was the same,” Gran hummed, resting her fingers on Millicent’s head. “Eager to learn everything.”

“David?” Molly mouthed to Millicent who tilted her head back so she could just about see Gran.

“Grandpa, he died when Dad was five, or about then, didn’t he Gran?” Millicent answered.

“He was a fey young man,” Gran carried on.

“They met during the war, didn’t you Gran,” Millicent prompted. It wasn’t often Gran talked about Grandpa. It was normally after three or four sherries with Mrs Smith, the stories of Gran’s courtship came out.

“Which war?” Arthur asked.

“The Great War,” Gran answered, stroking her fingers through Millicent’s hair, leaving her almost purring. “I was sent off to live with my Aunt Bet, after she lost her first child after hearing Uncle Bertie was lost at Loos.”

Millicent sighed softly, closing her eyes, she knew the story well.

“I was sixteen, my young man was lost the same year at Festubert before we could wed, Father sent me to mourn with Aunt Bet, and so he could move his fancy piece in that he thought I didn’t know about,” Gran said with the spite of youth, and Millicent couldn’t help but grin. “Aunt Bet lived on the coast, Scarborough way, where we lived for a year before the grief did her in.”

They’d been to see Aunt Bet’s resting place, and eventually, Millicent would go to where her Uncle Berties was. To let him know he was still thought about, all those years later. She hoped Gran might be able to join her.

“David, oh David,” Gran stilled, her voice wavery. “He couldn’t fight. Lame he was, could barely see past his own nose, but the air moved around him. Slight, delicate, a breath of wind could knock him over, and that poor babe, wailing for it’s mother. Well, it wasn’t like with Alfie, god bless his poor departed soul. Alfie could look after himself, and others. David, David my blessed David, he needed me.”

“Uncle Bertie’s brother wanted Aunt Bet’s house back after he came back wounded from the front, and well, Father wrote to ask for help after a fall. So we were married, he took my name, not a done thing in those days, not like nowadays, but David wanted to move on from his past. So he became David Johnson, and we moved back to my old village, well, Millicent’s taken you to where we used to live,” Gran hummed thoughtfully.

“The reservoir,” Millicent answered the unasked question. “The water board bought them all out, and Gran and Grandpa had enough to buy the house we live in now.”

She declined the offer to stay the night, especially after Molly parceled up plum pie for the Hogwarts Weasleys, and a bit extra for the others.

Winky took the twins portion, and Ron’s after Millicent refused to step foot near the stupid houses tower. Ginny, however, was as expected in the study room.

“Mopsy,” Millicent whined. She wasn’t sure why Neville was there as well talking to Mopsy, there wasn’t that much work to be done for Herbology, but who was she to say, beyond having looked at the work load.

“Miss Millicent,” Mopsy buzzed.

“Can you get some little tea plates and little tea forks? And maybe some little serviettes?” Millicent produced the remaining one and a half pie with the jug of evaporated milk. “And a serving knife?”

“Miss Millicent be throwing a tea party?” Mopsy all but swooned.

“A quick one, I’m due to be in the common room in twenty minutes, but I thought we could class it up and eat it Mopsy style,” Millicent winked at Ginny who perked up at the smell of warm pie.

“Enough for everyone?” Blaise slinked closer, Dean idly shuffling a little closer as well. Harry just stared at the pie from his desk.

“As long as you eat it properly,” Millicent agreed. “The others have had their share already.”

“Mum’s never sent pie before,” Ginny looked at Millicent suspiciously.

“Because she didn’t have an abundance of plums probably. Daisy donated buckets, actual buckets. Not including the stuff at the church. Bill’s freezing three pies at home there were so many.” Millicent glanced at where Neville looked a little mournful. “You can have some too. More than enough to share.”

“Thanks,” he blushed.

“The boys have been fighting,” Ginny said, as Mopsy popped back in with a tea set fit for a queen.

“Oh?” Millicent asked, glancing at the small clock Mopsy found somewhere that she promised wasn’t stolen. She had just enough time to eat and head to the common room. Not enough to have an argument. Or not without taking them to the common room, and she wasn’t sure Snape would approve of lions breaching the inner sanctum.

“About Hermione,” Ginny added.

“What about Granger?” Millicent blinked. “What’s she done now?”

“She’s done nothing,” Harry almost shouted.

“Well, why are you fighting about her? It’s not a weird sex thing is it? Blaise is with Fiona, and Dean is with Ginny, so, no ones standing in your way there,” Millicent wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I don’t think you are a great match, but I’m not sure who would be doing worse so there is that.”

“Hermione trying to sabotage Muggle Club,” Ginny carried on, grinning as the boys spluttered.

“Oh, yeah, no that wasn’t Granger. I thought I told you?” Millicent waved it off, ignoring as Blaise and Dean both glared at her. “Look, I’m very busy. Anyway, no, Granger didn’t say anything, it was Daisy. Also turns out, Lupin isn’t gay after all. He might still be a little bit, but he’s chasing after Daisy. They are both denying it, but he’s taking her out for drinks, and we all know how that goes.”

Harry turned a weird shade of purple. “What do you mean, he’s not gay after all?”

Millicent looked at Blaise who was squinting at Harry.

“You know, him and your “other” guardian,” Blaise waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Millicent nodded. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Not with Harry, to be fair,” Dean frowned. “But we all thought it. And I’ve only met your “other” guardian twice.”

“It’s true,” Ginny looked sheepish.

“I thought they were a couple,” Neville piped up nervously.

“Anyway, he’s chasing after Daisy,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Alright, the pie was delicious, and I’m due in the common room, five minutes ago. Mopsy, can you take me?”

“You can’t just drop that bombshell and waltz off!” Harry looked outraged.

“I’m late, anyway, it’s not a bombshell. Mopsy, please,” she did her best puppy eyes, and Mopsy took her by the hand and dropped her off just outside the common room door. Which, because of the little shits inside, were noisy as fuck.

“Alright,” she sauntered into the room, flopping down in her seat, and pulling her work out to start.

“Finally made it,” Dobbs, a fifth year shit prefect sniffed.

“I’m not even ten minutes late,” Millicent smiled, baring her teeth. She delighted in the way Dobbs paled. “You can piss off now. I’m perfectly able to babysit a bunch of snakelets.”

“Professor Snape said-“

“That one Millicent is worth ten other prefects,” Millicent finished for her. “Scram.”

“I’ll have to let the Professor know,” Dobbs continued bravely, even if she had taken several steps back.

“You do that,” Millicent waved her away. “Alright you little shits, good job on not stinking the place up too much. Anything I should know about before you get dobbed in?”

She bloody hoped there wasn’t, she’d already had to rake three first years over the coals for language. Apparently, she’d needed to go over the whole pureblood means fuck all again.

“Milly,” Rosie sidled up with another third year.

“What?” Millicent narrowed her gaze.

“Flo wanted to know how we go about making our own club,” Rosie pulled her friend down to sit on the small sofa opposite Millicent’s not throne.

“What kind of club?” Millicent asked suspiciously.

“We want a movie club,” Flo said excitedly. “Where we watch a new film every week, on a Saturday.”

“Why are you - no, alright. So you need to get a teacher to agree to it, you’ll need to have someone to supervise, preferably a sixth or seventh year, although you might get away with a fifth year if they are responsible enough. You also need a plan. Who is it open to? How are you getting the films, who is going to be in charge of the watch order. What are you going to do if no one else wants to join.” Millicent considered what else they might need from the girls. “Also, what the benefit will be.”

“We weren’t going to ask you,” Rosie said with a grin. “We want to do it on a Saturday so if it overruns then we won’t be a mess for lessons.”

“Good, I don’t have the time to supervise,” Millicent winked at her. “What have you come up with so far?”

“We did want to ask a favour though,” Rosie let her eyes grow large, and Millicent sank back into her not throne. Fucking puppy eyes. “If we gave you the money, could you rent the films for us?”

“Why don’t you, before you ask me, talk to the Muggle Studies teacher, and see if they could do it for you instead? In fact, why don’t you ask them to be the teacher supervision?” Millicent countered.

“Milly,” Rosie whined.

“You need to talk to a teacher anyway,” she stood, or well, sat, firm against the begging.

“If she says no?”

“Well, then, if she says no, you could also ask some of the seventh year students who also have permission to leave,” Millicent held firm again.

“If they say no?” Flo tried fluttering her lashes. It was highly odd.

“If you can’t get hold of them any other way, then we can talk again,” Millicent agreed to that, and that alone. “But I am not the first port of call.”

“We’ll get back to you,” Rosie stood, tugging Flo to her feet.

“And maybe talk to Colin Creevey, he might be interested,” Millicent advised.

Next up was a first year who couldn’t understand an assignment, which was understandable because it was complete rubbish. Having asked to see who else had the same problem, she discovered that the first year had written down a random sentence instead of the assignment. What was an easy fix, turned into Millicent explaining how she tackled writing assignments, and then promised to write up a guide for them to follow.

“I don’t want to take Divination for OWLs,” Stanton, a fourth year flopped on the sofa, with Greaves another fourth year saying he didn’t want to take Care of Magical Creatures.

“You need to tell Professor Snape. He has an office session now, if you run down you should just catch him,” she instructed. “Same for anyone else having the same issue. It’s not too late to switch, but the longer you leave it the harder it will be.”

She wasn’t surprised to see five people hurry off.

“I need to switch dorms,” Hardy, a boisterous second year told her.

“Why?” She wasn’t sure Snape authorised any dorm switching.

“I’m an Aries, and she’s a philistine,” Hardy glared at the rolling eyed Jones.

“Yeah, it’s not going to happen. Deal with it,” Millicent told her bluntly.

“I need special dietary requirements,” Forester, a fifth year whispered.

“You need to let the Matron know, and then she sorts it out with the house elves,” Millicent considered sharing she had special dietary requirements too, but decided against it. She didn’t want to come across as too approachable.

“I wanted to do my project with my friend, but I was told we weren’t allowed to do cross house work,” Hopkins, a fourth year girl stared at Millicent mournfully.

“Well that’s bollocks, so whoever told you that was wrong. You can work with anyone on the same course, in fact, you can get extra marks for working with another house. Sometimes- not all the time, so just work with whomever you want,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “And if anyone says anything, invite them to have the discussion with me.”

Chapter Text

Muggle Club was hectic. Fred ended up being roped into helping, as half the hall filled with students, and even Lupin looked a little overwhelmed as Millicent attempted to bring order to the group.

It settled down quickly, with groups splintering off as they had the previous term, magazines being shared, boardgames being discussed with it coming down to George of all people telling them they should be played using the official rules only. She caught a glimpse of horror on his face as he heard himself.

It was large enough that they could have two lots of music playing, and Top of the Pops ended up going on repeat as groups wandered to get a closer view before making way for other students. The two hours flew by.

They did manage to get three more volunteers to lead, all girls, two Hufflepuffs and one Ravenclaw, as well as Dennis happily taking responsibility for his usual group of miscreants.

“All those who want to collect conkers as a group, meet outside the main entrance Saturday morning at ten sharp, Dennis and Violet will be foraging for them,” Millicent said loudly. “They will be running a small competition next Monday. Feel free to gather your own, but don’t steal all of them, let everyone have a fair chance.”

“Fucking hell,” Dean breathed after the last student wandered out of the hall. Lupin didn’t even look up.

“That was more than a third, right?” Blaise pulled at the neck of his jumper.

“Easily half,” George agreed, with Fred glaring at the lot of them.

“I mean, there are almost two thirds of the school who aren’t pure, right?” Millicent checked.

“Half,” Lupin answered.

“And we do have some purebloods in the mix too,” she carried on.

“We need to burn Monopoly,” Fred glared at the box.

“We keep trying, but people keep donating their families,” Dean half sobbed.

“We could just ban it,” Violet, the Hufflepuff fifth year suggested.

“It’ll only make them want to play it more, the lure of the forbidden,” George sighed mournfully. “Worst game ever invented.”

Dean shook his head, as Irene, the Seventh Year Ravenclaw answered. “Uno.”

“Uno.” Dean agreed.

“We can’t let them play Uno. Not unless we want a full on war,” Irene added, shuddering with Dean at the thought.

“We do need to decide on what the official rules are for poker,” Dean pointed out. “And half a dozen other card games.”

“Also, who thought a ten year old version of Trivial Pursuit, was a good idea?” Josie, the fourth year Hufflepuff asked belligerently. “No one knew any of the answers!”

“All the games are donated,” Millicent pointed out. “I’ll try and hit up some charity shops next weekend and see if I can find some more recent versions, but I’m not holding out much hope.”

“We have money, can’t we just buy some?” Josie asked.

“It is true,” Blaise said with a sly look at Millicent.

“And what happens if people pay and then don’t want to be in the club any more? Do we let them take their games back?” Millicent asked, biting back the urge to stamp on his foot.

“I’ll pay for them then,” Blaise shrugged. “It’s not like we’re allowed to go to Hogsmeade any time soon anyway.”

“Are we going to agree on the rules? Should we vote on them next week?” Violet asked innocently.

“No,” Millicent said bluntly. “Just write them. If people have that much of an issue with them, they can talk to whoever wants to be in charge of the games rules. Which won’t be me, by the way. We’re not giving people the opportunity to bicker about rules. They can deal with what they are given, or lump it.”

“We really don’t want to give them a choice,” Dean backed her up.

“Last thing we want to do,” Blaise agreed.

“There were arguments about the written rules for half the games,” Dennis pointed out.

“And we were able to say - rules as written,” Millicent gave him a quick smile.

“In fact, we should have a big sign saying rules as written,” Dean said, frowning. “Why don’t we have rules for the club?”

“Because it didn’t need rules? Well other than don’t be a fucking knobhead,” Millicent scowled. “Which some people need constantly reminding about.”

“We could have a code of conduct?” Dean glanced at Lupin who was pretending to work.

“Don't be a knobhead, rules as written, and then what? I think it’s pretty obvious,” Millicent rolled her shoulders.

“Let me think about it?” Dean wouldn’t let it drop.

“Now?” Millicent almost whined. “I wanted to get another assignment done tonight. And we’ve gone on longer than I’d planned for.”

“No, but I’ll get back to you about it,” Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have to organise meeting up as a group though, and not just at the Slytherin table, during a random lunch.”

“Pick a lunch day then, we can make people move,” Millicent huffed. “We don’t need Lupin and the twins there for it.”

“Professor Lupin,” Blaise prompted as Lupin gave her a baleful eye.

“I said Professor Lupin,” Millicent lied badly. “Alright, Thursday lunch? I’ll tell the others to make space.”

“Can we do it somewhere other than the Slytherin table for once?” Dean stared at her.

“No,” Millicent refused. “You sit there and no one kills you, Dennis does, Slytherin love Hufflepuff - we were the ones who got them the house cup last year, and we don’t hate Ravenclaw, so no. Slytherin table, Thursday lunch.”

“I’ll write up an agenda,” Dean made a note.

“No, we’re not doing official meetings,” Millicent glared.

“We can’t just rely on our memories,” he dismissed her.

“I’ll step down,” she threatened.

“You can’t,” Lupin drawled with almost amusement the prick. Just because Snape and Catbag thought it was good for her.

“I’ve got work to do, don’t talk to me about Muggle Club stuff until Thursday lunch,” she warned, deciding to quit whilst she was partially ahead. “Coming?”

“Me?” Blaise pretended to glance around as she glared at him. “Dean wanted to have a chat about cricket.”

Managing to stay on top of her work load, was, manageable. Or near enough. Trying to teach Mopsy and Neville - how he’d managed to get through to NEWTs with such shocking essay writing skills she would never know. So, she made them copy out the guide she’d done for the ickle firsties, and then marked their efforts to a level Percy would’ve been proud of.

She wasn’t sure if Neville was truly grateful for her efforts, but she didn’t hear him complain, and she caught a small murmur of thanks.

The common room remained frustrating, the moment she sat down she was swarmed by petty shit. She didn’t care about fights over favourite quills, or if someone accidentally or not tripped someone else up. The apology wasn’t false, and the look of horror as the third year cracked his head against the stone, that couldn’t be faked. Even if the initial act was done in malice, she doubted it would be done ever again. Especially after she took the culprit off quietly to have a word. And then another with the victim's friends in case they got any ideas over retaliation.

Millicent really didn’t give a shit about someone sitting in someone else's seat. Unless it was hers. And then that was everyone's problem, which, maybe Blaise might have a point was a tad hypocritical, but still.

“You can’t kick us off our own table,” Parkinson huffed.

“I just did, so fuck off,” Millicent blinked lazily at her. “You’re own fault, you chose to sit closer today because you knew there would be more people here. So piss off, before I make you.”

“We could sit at the Gryffindor table,” Dennis pointed to the end where no one was sitting.

“No.” Blaise and Millicent said in unison.

“This isn’t your private table,” Parkinson stamped her foot.

“I think,” Millicent glanced at the prefect badge on her robe pointedly. “That this means it is. And that I told you this is MY house and in MY house we abide by MY rules. You’ve had over a week to whinge at Snape if you didn’t like it.”

“That’s not what being a prefect means,” Theo muttered under his breath as Blaise snorted.

“Shoo, before you waste everyone's time and I get roped into an actual meeting,” Millicent waved her away. “You lot, sit down.”

She almost immediately regretted it. Dean pulled out a notepad, Violet had lists, Irene a pouch that she tossed at Millicent, which when she opened it had a bunch of cash in it. “For the games.”

Dennis and Josie had more ideas than sense, and Blaise was happily taking part in stirring shit up, like the absolute prat he was.

“Look, you’ll do what you want, so why don’t you organise it, and I’ll just turn up on a Monday,” Millicent sighed, stabbing at the rich liver and kidneys on her plate. “With the new games.”

“Because you say you're happy to just turn up, and then you’ll be pissed about most of the choices we’ve made,” Blaise said with a saccharine smile.

“Fuck you,” Millicent glared at him.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Fiona called over from the Puff table, blowing Blaise a kiss which he pretended to catch and stuff in his pocket. Millicent wasn’t the only one who gagged. Which, considering Dean and Ginny were just as bad, was rich coming from Dean.

If she was forced to be honest, then it didn’t go too badly. They did manage to thrash out some things they wanted to do, while keeping the core of the club as it was. They were going to have to talk to the various heads though, as Millicent wasn’t the only one who’d been approached over starting clubs.

“Are we going to do anything for Christmas?” Irene asked, as Blaise went into a long spiel about weather and clothing and how the members would need to be made aware in advance.

“It’s September.” Dean’s face was a picture.

“It’ll soon be here, the leaves are changing,” Josie carried on blithely. “We could do a Christmas card exchange.”

“Oh, we could do the shoebox!” Violet squeaked, with Dennis perking up.

“We can’t buy anything,” Irene pointed out. “And we couldn’t do it anyway, not like we could send a lot of wizarding sweets to muggles.”

“What is the shoebox?” Blaise asked blankly, Millicent shrugged, she hadn’t a clue either.

“Fill it with things, toothpaste, socks, chocolate, for the needy, and wrap it so they have things to open,” Violet answered.

“I thought it was for the soldiers abroad?” Dean frowned.

“Orphans abroad,” Josie corrected.

“Different charities do different things,” Irene corrected them all.

“We could make things?” Violet chewed on her bottom lip.

“Not everyone will be able to do it,” Millicent could feel a headache forming.

“We could offer lessons,” Violet waved her hand as if that was going to solve everything.

“Let's have a think about it,” Dean said after a moment. “It’s written down. Everyone have a think and then we can circle back to it.”

“I had a thought, let's not,” Millicent mumbled, Blaise snorting softly. “Alright, Dennis and Violet, you’ll be fine on Saturday?”

“Yes, Colin’s coming with a couple of others to take photos. George said he’d help supervise, and Hagrid’s offering to show us the good places,” Dennis looked happy.

“Great,” Millicent mopped up the last bit of rich gravy with the heel of bread. “You’ll be doing the conker championship on Monday?”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Nothing else we need to talk about before Monday?” she checked, they were out of time. “If it’s completely necessary, you can track me down before but only if it’s completely necessary.”

“Great meeting team,” Dean clapped the notepad closed. “I’ll get the notes written up, and sent around so you can check them over. Anything you want adding to next weeks agenda let me know. I’ll make sure Professor Lupin, and George get a copy.”

She really was getting worried about Dean.

Chapter Text

Millicent must’ve done something terribly wrong in a past life. The moment she got back on Friday night, the Vicar knocked on the front door to complain.

“It’s bad enough that you’ve stopped coming to Church, but to do half the gardens in the village and ignore the Church,” he stropped.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Millicent stared at him. Bill was due back any time to collect her to go bowling with the others.

“The Church pathway needs doing,” the Vicar continued his strop.

“I’ll get to it, but I am a bit busy,” Millicent couldn’t quite understand what his problem was. She’d been up there the previous weekend and it wasn’t bad. In fact, she’d only trimmed it the week before.

“Making money, instead of doing the Lord’s work,” The Vicar was insane. Only explanation.

“I’ve only been doing school work, I don’t get paid for that,” Millicent pointed at the table where she’d spread her college work out to get started on while she waited for Bill to finish work. Goblins didn’t quite believe in the same Friday knockoff hours as Muggle businesses did.

“So it’s just a coincidence that half the village has perfectly mown and weeded gardens.”

“I’ve been away all week, I got back,” she glanced at the clock. “Twenty minutes ago. About enough time to get changed and answer the door. I haven’t even managed a brew yet. Which, Gran would slap my legs if I didn’t offer you one. Would you like a tea?”

“Milk, three sugars,” he sniffed, taking a step inside. She was relatively pleased to see he removed his shoes before coming in further.

“Biscuit? There might be cake,” Millicent offered, showing him through to the living room - or well, Mopsy would call it the Parlour since they were entertaining again.

“I am feeling the pangs of hunger,” he sniffed, taking a seat next to the small fire. She wasn’t sure which elf had laid it, or lit it, considering Millicent was still choosing to wear t-shirts, but the Vicar seemed to appreciate the warmth.

“I think there’s some ham and pickle? Maybe some cheese?” Millicent bobbed into the kitchen to inspect the fridge. Bill was apparently working through a pork pie, so she cut a slice off, making a small platter for the Vicar to pick at while the tea brewed.

By the time Bill appeared, with Charlie jockeying each other as they tumbled into the house, the Vicar was in full flow complaining about all the things wrong in the village.

“I completely agree, I do think it’s terrible that the council hasn’t installed a drop kerb outside of the vicarage,” Millicent agreed. “It will destroy any car having to take it up and down all the time.”

“Don’t get me started on the state of the potholes,” he carried on, having eaten a good third of the pork pie, and all of the remaining ham. The Vicar liked thick slices, thin slices were the devil or the Catholic Church's work. So much of the same.

“It’s awful what the world is coming to,” Millicent hummed, winking as Bill and Charlie paled trying to sneak past.

“My last village was wonderful,” the Vicar almost shed a tear. “But I promised I would do my best to guide this one into the future.”

“Sometimes, not even the best of the best can do anything,” Millicent offered up, offering to pour more tea.

The Vicar caught a glance of the time and shot up, almost spilling the dregs into his saucer. “I have urgent business back at the Vicarage. I hope to see you on Sunday.”

“I will do my very best,” Millicent agreed, standing to escort him to the door. “And I will try to get to the church pathway before Sunday.”

“You have a good heart,” he gave her a slightly approving look. “Mercenary, but you’ve got it in you to want to do good.”

“I will keep working on that,” Millicent promised, lying through her back teeth. “Have a safe trip back.”

She waited until she could hear the car starting before bursting into giggles.

“What was that?” Bill gaped at her.

“Fuck knows, he thinks I’ve been gardening all week,” Millicent shrugged. “Barking mad he is. Anyway, I bet I could read his tea leaves.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in Divination,” Bill gave her a sly look.

“Well,” Millicent swirled the remains around before tipping them out and looking at them as if hard at thought. “I believe the good Vicar will be watching Emmerdale very shortly.”

Millicent lost again at bowling. On the screen she didn’t, but only because Bill took pity on her and put his name down as hers. The curry afterwards was delicious, with Molly and Arthur joining them with several bottles of wine. Not that Millicent was allowed any, nor did she want it, but it might’ve been nice to have the option.

Her driving lesson went swimmingly, Joe took her over to the Reservoir, through the back lanes, and back again after they did a circuit of the Reservoir proper. There was a slight rolling into a hedge as they bumped into one of Joe’s mates with a tractor, who, in fairness to them, did offer to go backwards, but Joe said he believed in Millicent’s ability to reverse.

She was able to send more work off, now two weeks ahead of schedule, by working nonstop through the packages until they were done. Leaving her just enough time in the very early hours of Sunday morning, to run up to the Church to sort out the path, which - the Vicar was clearly going demented, they were only a couple of milimetres too long if that. Nothing to worry about at all.

Percy and Fleur were at the service, sitting next to Daisy and Timmy, with the Contessa sitting next to Joe right at the very front. Millicent could’ve sworn Blaise said she was back in Sicily. Millicent chose to sit next to Mr and Mrs Smith, far enough back that she wasn’t in the firing line, but close enough that the Vicar gave a faintly approving look as he spotted her. They filled her in on their latest holiday, a mid-week break to an over 60s hotel. Millicent promised that as soon as she was old enough she would make sure to check it out.

“I thought you weren’t coming during term time?” Percy commented as she lurked at the back after the end of service.

“I didn’t know you were coming at all,” she countered.

“Fleur would like to get married here,” he said with a sickeningly affectionate look at his future wife. “The Vicar will only perform the service if we attend.”

“What bollocks. Old Man Farra never bothered attending, even when he was well,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Yes, well, we can’t all rely on dying to get our own way,” Percy ruffled her hair. “Fleur enjoys coming.”

“Did she take a lot of hits during the Triwizard tournament?” Millicent asked innocently, grinning as he gave a stern look. “Are you going to your mum’s after this?”

“We’re going down to the village hall with Daisy and Luisa. Are you going home, or coming too?”

“I didn’t realise it was an option,” she lied, pretending to be hurt. “Honestly, I was planning on having a bath while Bill’s out, and then heading over to see Gran.”

“Want us to walk you home?” He laughed at her expression. “We’ll see you later.”

“Later Perce,” she kissed his cheek, taking the time to disappear off to give Timmy a quick squeeze before heading home for the most relaxing bath she’d had in months.

She found Gran in fine form, getting through three chapters before her voice got hoarse, and left back to Hogwarts with more plum pie with the strictest of instructions to share, as if she hadn’t the week before.

This time, the study room wasn’t a war zone. Instead, the usual suspects and Neville were waiting, casually, with plates already out.

“I don’t want to ask,” Millicent muttered, as Dennis practically vibrated with his slice of pie, desperate to tell her something.

“You do,” Ginny grinned.

“Do I really?” She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then she had a massive cage in her back garden under a cover that she still doesn’t know where Kreacher got the materials from to construct, with two lovebirds in.

“You really do,” Harry looked like his face was going to burst with the width of his grin.

“Really, really, really do,” Blaise smirked.

“Fuck it, tell me the enormous news,” Millicent gave in, diving into the still warm pie.

“Well,” Dennis giggled. “I went to talk to Hagrid, and Professor Snape was talking to Professor Sprout about potions ingredients, when-“ he fell over giggling.

The rest of the room wasn’t a lot better, all of them were buzzing with giddiness.

“One of Violet’s friends,” Dennis caught his breath. “She wants her own club, and she asked Professor Snape, in front of Professor Sprout, if he would supervise-“

He gasped for air again as he burst into absolute laughter. Millicent felt her heart sink. Because there was no way this wasn’t going to bite Millicent on the backside somehow.

“What group was it?” Blaise asked with a knowing grin.

“She asked Professor Snape, because its -“ Dennis was practically bent over. “Cooking!”

Millicent’s mouth dropped. She wasn’t that fussed about carrying on at Hogwarts after all. She could see herself with a career in the military, whatever would get her as far away as possible.

“And he-“ Dennis wheezed. “Couldn’t say anything, because Professor Sprout said it was an excellent idea!”

“Fuck,” Millicent might as well go pack now. At least she only had school stuff here. Miss Oliviette was with Gran after Molly discovered mice in Arthur’s garage. Not that Miss Oliviette particularly motivated herself to do more than lounge on different sun spots, still the thought was there.

“It gets even better,” Ginny’s eyes glowed.

“It can’t possibly,” Millicent refused to believe it.

“He’s going to do it!” Harry howled with laughter.

“No,” Millicent’s mouth dropped.

“Yes,” Blaise nodded frantically. “Yes, he is.”

“How the fuck did they get him to agree to that?” Millicent wasn’t sure her ears were hearing correctly.

“No one knows,” Blaise cackled. “All we know is that he said yes!”

“Hagrid wouldn’t let me listen,” Dennis pouted.

“I’m impressed he let you leave with your memory intact,” Millicent sighs. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be blamed regardless.”

“We do have a meeting with the Professors,” Blaise confesses, pointing at her and Dean.

“Fucks sake,” Millicent stares at him.

“I did ask if we needed parents with us,” Blaise grinned. “I was assured we wouldn’t need them.”

“Lies, all lies,” Millicent bashed her head against the desk. “Why isn’t Dennis being forced to attend? He started it all.”

“Because until this term, he wasn’t an official leader,” Dean answered, with Dennis grinning widely.

“He’s the whole fucking reason we’re even a club though, little shit told Catbag I’d agreed to supervise - which, while we’re on the subject, Dennis,” Millicent glared at him. “You practically owe me a life debt over.”

“You love running Muggle Club,” Blaise grins.

“I don’t, and I don’t run it,” she sniffs.

“If we have to go, then Dennis should have to too. Anyway, when do we have our meeting?”

“Before Muggle Club tomorrow,” Dean pulled a face. “Don’t worry, we’re “not in trouble” according to Professor Lupin.”

“Yeah right,” Millicent scoffed.

“We’re in heaps of trouble,” Blaise grinned. “Which for us is a big deal, but for you, that’s almost Harry levels, right?”

“Fuck you,” Millicent glared at him.

“I’ve not been in any trouble since, well, since Milly strangled me,” Harry squawked.

“Is Milly the new Harry?” Ginny asked with an almost malicious glee.

“I am not the new Harry!”

“I’ll happily give up my title,” Harry grinned at her.

“I don’t get in trouble,” Millicent lied.

“You got hauled in to see Snape, last week,” Blaise pointed out.

“Because you were “disrespectful” to our Head of House,” Dean helped.

“I was not being “disrespectful” at all. She’s just overly sensitive,” Millicent huffed. “And don’t you start. Your mother isn’t happy about the Australia rumours.”

“Don’t bring Mother into this,” Blaise gaped.

“Don’t make me go for the low blows then,” she huffed again. “It was a bit low. Sorry.”

He gave her a long hard look. “Let me eat the rest of your piece of pie and we’ll be fine.”

“I’m not that sorry.”

Chapter Text

“And she said she was going to step down,” Millicent heard Blaise mutter to Dean behind her back, as she was mid-rant after Dumbledore decided to be involved in the school for once.

“Look, if you decide we can’t have Muggle Club anymore, then I am going to wage war over every extracurricular club you are letting happen. Starting and probably ending with Quidditch,” Millicent hissed at Dumbletwat.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape didn’t quite sigh.

“No, this is blatant discrimination, and if you think I’m going to stand for it, you’ve got another thing coming,” she’d already started writing out notes on what she was going to send to Percy to get the ball rolling.

“It’s not blatant discrimination,” Dumbledore lied.

“Oh, so you’re going to stop Quidditch as well then?” she feigned shock. “The only way you’ll shut us down is if you do it to all clubs.

“Quidditch isn’t-“

“I will stop you right there,” she pointed her finger at him. “Because it’s not part of the curriculum, otherwise we’d all have to partake. It’s an organised activity, with supervision by older students and teachers alike. With more students attending games, in - can I say - frankly dangerous environments. For “fun” so before you start whatever bullshit you’re going to attempt to spin to make your massively inept and stupid argument, you can bloody well stop right now!”

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape gave her a warning look.

“No,” she shook her head. “You gave the club to me, you are not taking it away unless you want the whole place to burn to the ground.”

“No, didn’t want to carry on at all,” Dean whispered behind her back.

“We already said we didn’t tell students to approach members of staff about arranging clubs. All we did was answer the question on how ours started, which - I would like to point out ONCE again, I was approached to supervise by the Deputy Headmistress and my own Head of House.” She stared mulishly at Dumbledore. “And if this goes on any longer, I will demand to have parental guidance in the form of Percy and Bill Weasley. And Blaise will have his Mother, the Contessa. And Dean will get his parents, and Dennis will involve his. And I will make sure every student in Muggle Club also raises concerns with their parents.”

“And another thing,” she hissed. “How dare you lie to us about the reason for the meeting. From now on, I will insist on having parental guidance because of this. Now if you don’t mind, we’re due to have half the school turn up in less than ten minutes. You are more than welcome to observe this “dangerous” and “subversive” club.”

She pushed her chair back, straightening out her skirt, before turning her back to start setting up. The boys followed suit, with Blaise nudging her as there was hissed talking from the top table.

“Calm down,” he whispered as she growled under her breath.

“I really want to throttle him,” she hissed back.

“We could all tell,” he winked, helping her move some of the benches out of the way, while Dean wheeled out the TV set up to put in the corner. “He flinched a little when you stood up.”

“I saw,” she huffed. “You better write to your mother.”

“Of course,” he glanced behind her back. “Lupin’s already pulled out his paperwork. So has Snape.”

“What about Catbag and Dumbletwat?” she spat.

“Well Flitwick’s helping Dennis move the tables on Gryffindor side, and Sprout’s got papers out too,” Blaise pretended to tie his shoelaces. “Maggy’s looking bored and Dumbledore - he’s talking.”

“Grab George when he turns up, Fred too, and tell them,” she said after shifting the Slytherin table back by sheer force, ignoring Snape sighing as it scraped across the floor. She did feel a little better.

Dennis had near enough forty in his conkers championships. Two were immediately disqualified, due to magical tampering, one being a firstie, and the other a seventh year. She wasn’t sure who she was more disappointed in. Which was a lie, definitely the seventh year. Another few were disqualified for conker tampering, a few had to be shown how to string, and there were several warnings over aiming. As in, at the conker and not other people's knuckles. Even if they are a sibling and totally deserve it.

Flitwick found himself lured into the “musical” corner, aka the one where a bunch of people with not a lot of talent relentlessly strummed the same four chords and hummed out of tune to Wonderwall. She loved the song, but they had discussed banning it from being played during the club meetups.

Professor Sprout joined the conkers group, only to be dragged into a conversation with a small group of girls who’d been knocked out early. Millicent later found out they wanted to press flowers, and the Professor had kindly volunteered under the eager eyes and wide smiles, to help them collect suitable specimens.

Snape determinedly carried on with his marking, sat next to Lupin who only pretended to do the same, going off the scornful glances from Snape. Fred and George rotated throughout the many groups, both avoiding the board game group like the plague.

“Milly,” Dean called her over after she’d finished showing how to rewind a yo yo to a newbie.

“What’s up?” She asked, suspicious as he was talking to the card players, which was never a good look.

“Explain to them about the rules,” he sighed.

“Rules are as written,” she pointed at the massive poster they’d written the rule down on, sticking it to the wall behind where the cards were set up.

“They’re wrong!”

“Don’t care, they are the rules that were written down, so they are the rules,” Millicent shrugged.

“They are completely wrong!”

“Don’t care,” Millicent stared at the small group placidly. “If you don’t like the rules, you can write a twenty inch parchment, or essay on paper, on why they are wrong - each, and the rules you think are correct. In my hands before Thursday lunchtime, and then it’ll be discussed at our meeting on Thursday lunchtime.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Rules are as written. These rules are written. If you want new rules you need to fully explain why the current ones are wrong and offer up new rules to be checked,” Millicent barely blinked. “Until then, you want to play, then you play by the rules.”

She didn’t think for a minute any of them would be daft enough to bother, but they also wouldn’t be able to claim she hadn’t given them the opportunity to change them either. She gave a placid smile and wandered over to where Blaise was explaining again, the same to the board game lot. Pointing to their big sign.

“Rules as written. If you don’t like it, a twenty inch explanation in my hand by Thursday lunch with all the reasons why, and new rules,” she smiled sweetly as they groused. “Until then, unlike the card players, these games come with official printed rules. You should abide by them.”

“Thanks,” Blaise muttered in her ear.

“Honestly, the amount of “house rules” that seem to crop up is ridiculous. Whoever heard of the if my die didn’t roll a 4 or higher I get to roll again. Little shits,” she huffed. “Anyway, we might have new teaching supervision.”

“I doubt it,” he glanced over to the teachers. “But I bet they get inundated with more requests now.”

“No bet,” she laughed quietly. “Alright, time to go harass whoever keeps skipping tracks.”

She spent five minutes explaining why, when a compilation cd was being played, skipping the “pop” ones because “you don’t like the pop ones” was bad form, to someone old enough to know better.

“Milly,” Rosie tugged on her arm gently after she got into an in-depth conversation over if music was live at an outside gig, or in a club. That it was live music, when played live didn’t seem to come into the discussion once.

“What’s up?”

“Can you make an announcement about film club?” she asked, Flo bouncing behind her.

“I can, but I’ll need to know more details,” Millicent agreed.

“Saturday nights, starting at six, in the old muggle club room. Irene agreed to supervise for us. First film is going to be The Witches, and we’re going to have squash and popcorn,” Flo reeled off.

“Who did you agree to get the films?” Millicent asked.

“George,” the two girls waved at him, who looked around suspiciously. “He’s even getting the popcorn for us. Professor Snape didn’t say George couldn’t be in charge.”

“Did he say he could?” Millicent asked dubiously.

“Sort of,” Rosie answered.

“Sort of that will get me in trouble?” Millicent asked even more dubiously.

“We said George was going to help us, and Professor Snape said as long as we weren’t expecting him to, then he washed his hands of the whole situation,” Rosie giggled.

“Fair enough, anyway, yes, I’ll announce at the end,” Millicent shrugged.

“Professor Sprout is going to help us with flowers,” the ringleader of a small gang of yellow and green informed her. “She’s going to ask Professor McGonagall to help us with transfiguring flower presses. Can you announce it?”

“When and where?” Millicent pulled out her pad.

“Saturday, at ten, meeting by the main entrance. Outdoor clothing and shoes will be needed, and something to carry them in.”

“Alright, done,” Millicent made a note.

“We’re going to play footie on Sunday morning,” this time it was a gang consisting of all the house colours. “We want enough people to have a proper game though.”

“What time, and where?” Millicent asked.

“Nine-“

“Eleven-“

“Nine thirty-“

“Ten,”

“Get back to me when you’ve decided on a time,” she waved them away as they started arguing over the time.

“We’re going to have a choir,” a blue-tied girl glared at her.

“Good for you, when and where?” Millicent itched the side of her face with the penlid stuck on her finger.

“Thursday evenings, Charms classroom, seven with Professor Flitwick,” the girl continued to glare belligerently at Millicent. Millicent considered asking what her problem was, before deciding she just didn’t care.

“We want to do a beetle drive.” Millicent wasn’t sure she’d been stared at with such determination ever, and definitely not by a first year.

“Alright.”

“But not one with insects,” the first years friend said after a moment of the first one not speaking. Millicent assumed they’d not meant doing anything with beetles, but then, she also should know better.

“When?”

“We want to do it here,” the first year continued to stare as if they were trying to scoop out Millicent’s brain with their eyes.

“Not everyone will be interested,” Millicent started, holding her hand up as the two first years looked like they were about to cry. “However, we can do what we’ve done with the conker championship, and have it in the same room, allowing people to join if they want.”

“Couldn’t you make them join?” the first year asked.

“It’s a club, we don’t make anyone do anything,” Millicent ignored George snorting softly behind her. “People can join if they are interested. It wouldn’t be next week though, Dennis has people wanting to try and win the conker championship again next week. The week after we could arrange it?”

“Will you run it?” the first year asked, Millicent was beginning to wonder if they’d blinked at all.

“Don’t you want to run it?” Millicent felt a sinking sensation as the two shook their heads. “I don’t know what goes into a beetle drive.”

They stared at her.

“I’ll learn,” she sighed. “And I’ll announce it at the end of next week's club session.”

“Pushover,” George murmured as the two first years wandered off babbling to each other.

“What was I supposed to say?” She asked, trying to rid herself of the sensation of being stared at.

“No?” he grinned. “Still, creepy little beggars weren’t they.”

“I don’t think either of them blinked once,” Millicent blinked her eyes rapidly, feeling her eyes dry at the very thought of it.

“We want a school disco,” this came as less of a surprise.

“Probably not going to happen,” Millicent told the second years.

“So it might?”

“Probably not means most likely not,” Millicent explained patiently as she could.

“It’s not a no.”

“It’s a, it could, but it would take a miracle,” Millicent tried again.

“So it will happen.” They’d wandered off before Millicent could explain in detail that not once had she said it would happen. Not that it seemed to occur to any of them considering they’d wandered off to talk to Flitwick who kept looking in Millicent’s general direction. She was not organising a school disco.

“A few small announcements,” Millicent raised her voice, hopping up onto a bench and clapping her hands together, waiting until the hall fell quiet.

“Once again - the rules for the games are as written. If you have an issue with those rules, a twenty inch essay explaining why and additional alternative rules must be in my hand before Thursday lunchtime so that it can be discussed in the leaders meeting,” she said, staring sternly at the malcontents still bitching about how they had better rules.

“Congratulations to the first Hogwarts school conkers champion Clive for his magnificent conker pick. There will be a second competition next week. Dennis and Violet will once again be taking those who are interested in getting their own potential championship winning conker out, Saturday morning with Professor Hagrid. Please don’t forget to thank him for his valuable time.

She ran through the clubs that were going to be started, ending on the flower pressing one.

“Professor Sprout has agreed to explain the history of the flowers and helping to collect the best specimens. Professor McGonagall has very kindly agreed to teach all those who are interested the spell on how to transfigure your very own flower press, and for those who it might be a little too complex for, the older students will be more than happy to help,” Millicent threw the Deputy Headmistress under the bus as the students all clapped.

“The Club announcements will be made again tomorrow during the evening meal so all those who didn’t attend tonight's meeting will have the opportunity to join. Thanks for coming, if you can make sure you leave the hall as you found it, and please don’t run in the hallways going back to the common rooms, there is no need.” She clapped her hands together and dropped down to help start moving the furniture back into place.

Chapter Text

Managing to get through Transfig without having a blazing row with Catbag, just about happened. Millicent remembered to get her wand out, making sure it was front and centre on her desk, perhaps the small purple velvet pillow Mopsy found for her, as its resting place, was a little far. And maybe, Millicent should have waited a couple of days after volunteering the old bag, but Millicent liked to push boundaries now and again.

Snape dragged her into yet another “meeting” where he ranted for a bit, and Millicent did more essays. She parroted back whenever he stopped to breathe. George sitting in the corner working on his apprenticeship with a shit eating grin on his face didn’t overly help with Snape’s overall mood. Apparently, according to Snape, telling them in advance she was going to make an announcement at a meal wasn’t the same as asking. Even though Dumbleprick would have plenty of opportunity to correct her. So it was on him, not Millicent.

The biggest surprise came when six different people handed over essays, all different, on why the rules for the card games were wrong, all with their own bespoke rules for the games that barely matched up with each other. She was given only two for the board games, and their rules were similar enough, until it turned out, they were related.

“George?” Millicent lingered at the end of Potions, waiting until he’d finished cleaning the board.

“What’s up?” he sounded distracted.

“Can you go to a bookstore and buy some books on card games? Rules for card games?” She asked, pulling the wildly differing rules out. “There’s no way we can use these. And they might be right in that the ones we made up being rubbish. If we get official rules, then we can just blame the official bodies for them.”

“Can’t you?” He frowned, pulling out the next classes marked work ready to hand back. Snape pretending to ignore them at the back of the room.

“I won’t have time for another couple of weeks,” she wrinkled her nose. “I thought making them work for it would put them off, but they are obsessed.”

“If I get chance,” he didn’t promise but gave a rueful look. “I’m hoping to be able to make it to bowling Friday night, but I also said I’d cover any detentions.”

“Want to me to scare the shits into behaving so there are none?” Millicent offered. She wasn’t sure how she’d go about it, but she was willing to give it a try.

She could feel Snape’s disappointment from the back, and George just gave a small laugh. “I’ll try, or you could ask Bill?”

“Bill’s away again this weekend, working on some old muggle estate somewhere that’s been infested with curses,” Millicent groused. “Charlie’s off on a wild goose chase too, I could ask Percy? I’ll ask Percy, thanks though.”

“You’ll be late for your next class,” George glanced at the time.

“Shit, alright, see you later,” she gave him a little wave before pegging it out and down the halls, racing until she could just see the back of one of her fellow Care of Magical Creatures walking down to Hagrid’s teaching area.

“Pushing it,” Harry murmured as she smoothed out her robes.

“Had to ask George for a favour,” she pulled out her pad. “Fucking Muggle Club. Don’t suppose you know what goes into a beetle drive?”

The blank look on his face said it all, and they were soon caught up in the lesson.

She left Fiona and Harry chatting, racing back up to make it in time to stake a claim to half the table for the lunchtime meeting, growling as Greengrass attempted to stake her own claim.

“Piss off,” Millicent bared her teeth.

“I’ll complain,” Greengrass tried her best.

“Do it.”

Dean’s agenda seemed to go on forever, with them talking for much of lunch, before the raising of any other comments.

“What are we going to do about being the umbrella club for all the other clubs?” Irene asked.

“We aren’t, really, anyway,” Blaise answered as Millicent refused to get involved. She’d already said her piece.

“Except we are,” Dean backed Irene up.

“Only by merit of being the biggest club,” Violet countered.

“Quidditch is the biggest,” Josie contradicted her.

“Colin’s working with Luna,” Dennis piped up. “They’ve started a school newspaper.”

Millicent wasn’t the only one who turned to stare at Colin and Luna, who were indeed, sat next to each other and Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Ginny frowned at them as she felt their eyes on the three unusual suspects.

“They’ve been talking to all the different groups, and started taking photos, Colin even got some from the conker championship,” Dennis carried on. Millicent hadn’t even seen Colin on Monday night. “They want to write about what's going on in school.”

“So we don’t need to worry about passing on information?” Millicent perked up. She was getting frustrated being approached about announcing things. All the time.

“They want to come on a Monday and then release the paper on a Wednesday,” Dennis waved as Colin looked confused.

“Sounds like a great idea,” Josie suddenly started trying to beckon them over.

Millicent didn’t have much to do with Luna, not out of dislike, just, their paths rarely crossed. She suspected the girl found Millicent difficult to be around, which Millicent fully understood. Millicent did have a reputation for hating small blonde things, mainly Malfoy, but still, she had more antagonistic relationships with blondes than any other hair colour. Although Dumbledore and Catbag were probably less blonde and more ashy grey, or white.

Colin on the other hand, still kept a wary distance after the revelation at her birthday party. That said, Dennis didn’t show the same qualms, and other than the insistence that Dennis did have a crush on her, she’d not seen much evidence in the way he acted.

So she let the others talk, agreeing overall to letting them take as many photos as they liked, and agreeing to answer any questions they came up with. Other than that she paid little attention, barely skimming the minutes from Dean, other than to note she’d been given extra copies to hand to Snape and Lupin.

Friday night’s bowling comprised of Percy, Fleur, Ollie and Eric, with Molly and Arthur joining them for a curry afterwards, and Molly inviting her to stay the weekend at the Burrow rather than Gran’s empty house. That it wasn’t empty, thanks to the four elves, didn’t seem to occur to Molly, but Arthur supported Millicent’s decision to stay at home.

It did mean she was able to stay up far too late on Saturday night, choosing to steam through all the work now the first lot had been returned and marked. She made a couple of changes to how she answered the maths, but other than that, she had the entirety of Sunday free - other than turning up to the service, and spending the afternoon with Gran.

“So,” Millicent sprawled out on the floor, after spending an hour with the elves discussing how messy Bill was. They all agreed he was the worst. Millicent was especially inspired by Mopsy’s rant about crumbs everywhere. Kreacher had thoughts on Bill’s socks, and the bits of fluff off his jumpers. Dobby said Bill snored. Which he did. Winky mentioned that sometimes Bill put the milk back in the fridge when there was only a dribble left in the bottle.

“Miss Millicent?” Mopsy blinked slowly.

“Who has been gardening for half the village?” Millicent asked.

“Mopsy hasn’t!” Mopsy sounded outraged. Millicent suspected Mopsy wouldn’t, if only to get a head start on winning the following years garden competition.

“I didn’t think you had,” Millicent soothed.

“We haven’t,” Kreacher answered.

“Do you know who has?” Millicent asked, keeping half an eye on the time. The Vicar would kick up a fuss if she came in late, and Mopsy wouldn’t let her leave in the same clothes she’d been rolling around on the floor in.

“Dobby knows,” Dobby pulled at his ears.

“I’m sure it’s not a big deal to tell me,” Millicent promised, trying to be as soothing as possible.

“It be Miss Daisy’s new suitor,” Winky blurted out, smacking her hands to her mouth, eyes wide.

“Fair enough,” Millicent shrugged. “I’ll tell the Vicar to blame Daisy’s new suitor then.”

“Miss Millicent not be wanting to know more?” Mopsy asked, glancing at the other three.

“Do you want to tell me more?” Millicent asked dubiously.

“We be asked not to be telling more,” Mopsy half wailed.

“By who?” Millicent checked. She’d promised Bill that she wouldn’t pry if he said she wasn’t to know.

“By Professor Snape and Master Bill,” Mopsy turned it into a full wail.

“Alright,” Millicent shrugged, rolling over to clamber up onto her feet. “Anyone joining me for Church?”

Winky hadn’t enjoyed going the first time, Mopsy only liked going when everyone went, Kreacher looked horrified at the idea, and Dobby was still thinking about it. So she wasn’t surprised when she was the only one jogging up in the drizzle after she’d promised she wouldn’t melt in the rain.

Daisy sitting next to the Contessa and Joe wasn’t much of a surprise, nor was Timmy perched next to Fleur and Percy, waving wildly as he spotted her enter the church.

“You need to tell the Vicar it’s your new person looking after half the village’s gardens,” Millicent whispered as she kissed Daisy’s cheek. “He thinks it’s me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Daisy promised, giving her a small squeeze.

Percy gave a small sigh of relief as Millicent took over Timmy duty, allowing him to clamber into her lap and babble in her ear about all the bats he could see in the roof. Millicent nodded seriously, following his finger to where she couldn’t see the bats but he insisted there were lots. Daisy later told her they’d seen one a couple of nights before, and now he saw them everywhere.

“You don’t happen to know about Beetle Drives?” Millicent asked Daisy as they stood in the entrance, waiting for the thunder to stop.

“No,” Daisy shook her head. “One of my friends runs a brownie pack, I could ask her?”

“If you could, I’ve been asked to run one, but no one seems to know anything about them,” Millicent groaned, hoisting Timmy onto her shoulders as he tried to make a breakthrough the doors again. “And thanks for telling Lupin we didn’t have enough girls leading.”

Daisy smiled, touching Timmy’s feet to stop them from booting Millicent in the chest.

“I’ll drop you off,” Joe told her as she made her excuses to Percy again.

“You don’t have to,” Millicent told him with a grin. “I did bring my coat.”

“I’m heading home to get Betsy anyway,” he ruffled her hair, offering to drop Daisy and Timmy down at the village hall on their way.

“Luisa’s taking us out for lunch,” she smiled, waving at where the Contessa was busy talking to the Vicar who looked pained.

“See you next week,” Millicent kissed her cheek, before accepting a slimy kiss of Timmy.

“So, what do we know about Daisy’s man?” Millicent waited until Joe started up the engine. She’d offered to drive back, but he’d declined, claiming she was only insured to drive hers, which was bollocks.

“Seems nice enough,” Joe answered, lighting up and winding the window down even though it was still tipping it down.

“You’ve met him?”

“He’s come for drinks with us on a Thursday,” he hummed, the wipers going full pelt. “Buys a round without being prompted. Decent enough at darts, not so at snooker.”

“Criminal?” Millicent asked.

“Probably,” Joe answered with a snort.

“Bad one?”

Joe took a minute to answer. “Bill knows more.”

“Bill’s away,” Millicent whined.

“Ask Daisy,” Joe ignored her.

“Joe,” she whined some more.

“He didn’t seem worried when I got out my shotgun,” he answered slowly. “Bill looked concerned.”

“Bill’s a big wuss,” Millicent rolled her eyes. “He didn’t want to learn how to skin rabbits.”

“Arthur wasn’t happy to see it either,” Joe pulled up in front of Gran’s.

“Bet Charlie didn’t care,” Millicent hummed.

“He asked about the ammunition,” Joe’s eyes creased. “Came out shooting with us. He know’s how to skin a kill.”

“Yeah, he would,” Millicent agreed, leaning over to kiss him on his whiskery cheek. “Thought you were shaving again?”

“Luisa told me I look better with a bit of stubble,” Joe winked as she gasped. “And before you start gossiping with yon Daisy, I’ll remind you I’m happy with my lot.”

“We don’t gossip,” Millicent gasped in mock outrage.

“And Julia doesn’t like Sherry,” he said as she opened the car door to bolt into the already open front door. “Keep your nose clean.”

Chapter Text

They had a second conker champion, this time Elise, a fourth year Gryffindor who had very swollen knuckles. Clive, according to the gossip, got knocked out immediately after his pick wasn’t as prize-winning as the last. Professor Sprout and Flitwick were both in attendance, as were more students than the previous week.

Millicent got roped into supervising the card and games areas as “teaching yo yo tricks” can be done next to them. She hated her co leads with a burning passion.

“You realise none of you agree on the rules for any of the card games,” Millicent explained for the seventeenth time. “So, until we can get an official rule book, we’re going off these rules. And no, it’s not fair that the board game group got to change their rules and you didn’t, but they agreed on their rules. You lot didn’t. I will do my best to get an official rule book for next week's session.”

She was sure there was a tiny vein twitching in her eye. She could feel it as they worked themselves up into another bitching session. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, I’ll just take the cards away.” Apparently, that wasn’t the answer either.

She did manage to get two more people to do an around the world without hitting themselves, or anyone else, which is a bonus and almost makes up for the throbbing headache she has. She missed the only session where the club was just yo yos. Yo yos were far easier than all of the mess Muggle Club turned into.

Fred looked as stressed as she felt, and then she saw why quickly. “We banned marbles. None of you can be trusted with them,” Millicent pretended she was at home, surrounded by the rolling hills and not by squabbling teenagers.

Blaise started to saunter over, caught sight of the marbles and veered off to the other side of the room.

“Do you remember why we banned marbles?” She asked the perpetrators who caused the ban in the first place. Innocence was not a look they wore well. “You couldn’t be trusted to pick them all up again. You got into physical fights over marbles. There were accusations of theft, cheating, and physical harm. The same with pogs before you decide that's an acceptable substitution. Hand over the marbles. All of them. You can have them back after you each write a thirty-inch essay on why they are banned.”

Only one of them had the grace to look even remotely ashamed. The others were bullish, which never worked well on Millicent. She’d grown up around actual bulls. “I will also be writing to your parents to explain why they have been removed and offer to send them back.”

It worked marginally better to kowtow the idiots.

“We were never this bad,” Fred muttered.

“That’s what Molly tells me all the time,” Millicent winked at him.

There are fewer announcements, more reminders over what clubs will be running, with a special mention that as of Wednesday there would be a school newsletter going out.

She was collared by Professor Sprout on the way to Prefect rounds, with an update on how Mopsy was doing with her NEWT level Herbology work. Millicent wasn’t surprised to hear that she was doing well. Better than expected even.

“She’s bright,” Millicent said plainly. “Which is the problem, when she doesn’t have enough to do, she starts getting stuck on things, like babies or competitions. It becomes all-encompassing.”

Maybe Bill had a point that Mopsy and Millicent were well-matched, not that she’d tell him that. “She’s not causing issues?”

Professor Sprout explained very carefully that Mopsy hasn’t, but only because Neville intervened when she attempted to take home seeds for some of the more dangerous plants. What Mopsy wanted with a whomping willow sapling, well Millicent probably won’t ask. Or wait until it’s convenient to bring it up. So probably never.

“I’ll talk to her,” Millicent half-promised. “We live in a Muggle village.”

She wasn’t sure Professor Sprout thought that tidbit of information to be a relevant point, but it was the best Millicent could offer.

Why or how Millicent became the go-to person to sort out altercations when there are a whole school of other prefects and teachers is beyond her. Dobbs came to get her after a gang of Slytherin and Gryffindor girls were scrapping by the entrance to the Slytherin rooms. Barging into the study room, that far too many people knew how to find, to demand she sorted out the fight. Dobbs, who had to walk past two other prefects, and Filch.

“I don’t care who started it,” Millicent picked the two main girls up by the scruff of the neck dangling them off the floor. “But I will finish it.”

The pair of them went limp in her hands, with scratches and red marks already showing all over their faces. “You’ve all got far too much energy. I want you all here at six am tomorrow morning in running clothes. You two are coming with me now to see the Matron. Anyone not here at six am will be collected and you will regret it.”

George took one look at the eight-strong group of sulking teenage girls, and offered to take Dennis on a different route. The giant wuss. Dennis looked marginally interested in staying until they started squabbling and shot off after George like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Millicent heard all the excuses as they attempted to drag their heels, and ignored every single one, shouting the moment they slowed down until all she could hear was panting and wheezing.

“Shower, then eat breakfast. You will all be sitting by my side for all of your meals from now until I am satisfied. You will be doing your homework with me this evening in the library until I am satisfied. And you will thank me for giving up my very valuable time. And then I will see you at six am tomorrow to do this all over again. Now get out of my sight,” she instructed.

“You didn’t take points?” George asked after they left.

“What’s the point? No one really cares,” Millicent shrugged. “They will care about losing all of their freedom, and will come to hate me so much they will have a common enemy.”

Greengrass tried to complain when Millicent made space for the incomers.

“Eating only,” Millicent warned them as they started to talk amongst themselves, grinning as she was glared at.

“I don’t think we have this power,” Blaise mentioned during History.

“I do until I’m told I don’t,” Millicent shrugged. “We’ll see how long it takes for them to bitch to Snape or Catbag.”

“What did you do?” Ginny asked the Gryffindor girls, after kicking them out of her seat.

“They decided to have a nice big fight,” Millicent answered.

“That was stupid,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Anyway, have you seen the Newsletter?”

Millicent let them talk about it, keeping half an eye on the eight still-sulking girls. She’d shushed them each time they’d tried to talk.

“What did they do?” Harry asked when he joined them at the evening meal.

“Decided to fight,” Blaise answered, all eight girls glaring at them. “Milly decided that they can’t be trusted to have any free time, so now we’re babysitting.”

“Pretty much,” Millicent agreed. “My payment isn’t even a grudging thank you for giving up my precious free time to do so.”

“Fair enough, did you see the photo of Ginny dangling upside down catching a snitch in practice?” Harry asked, pulling the newsletter out. “George sent it to Molly, and Ginny’s on the warpath.”

“Molly has seen her play,” Millicent shrugged. “I’d be more worried about her cutting it out and sticking it on the fridge.”

“Colin’s given Ginny the original,” Harry stole one of the rolls from Blaise’s plate. “Thanks, mate.”

“I wasn’t planning on eating that at all,” Blaise elbowed him, stealing a roll of Theo’s plate.

“Don’t even think about it,” Tracy warned as Theo glanced at hers. “There’s more on the table.”

“Everyone knows they taste better when they come from someone else’s plate.”

Millicent hadn’t been to the library in ages, but her old table remained pretty much empty. The girls made as much noise as possible, huffing and puffing as she demanded to see what they’d done already. She made suggestions on how to improve, shrugging as only one of them took her up on it. It’s no skin of Millicent’s nose if they wanted to be mediocre.

Nor was it a problem to drag them around the beginner route regardless of complaints. Or to listen to them quietly grumbling over meal times, all eight of them suddenly perking up as Friday rolled around.

“Now, I know what you’re all thinking, oh that bitch Bulstrode’s going to be gone for the weekend, we’re free. Sadly not. George will see you at 6 for your run. You will behave for him. I want eight essays as to why you were fighting, no less than twenty inches, in my hands by breakfast Monday morning. You will continue to eat together, supervised, by Fred, who has very kindly donated his meal times to do so. You will be watched during your free time. If you can prove you can be trusted,” Millicent paused. “If you can prove you can be trusted, you will gain your freedom back.”

Bill was still frigging away, although Charlie was on a break from chasing whatever goose was loose, and had, at Bill’s behest, temporarily moved in. Millicent was fairly sure she believed the explanation that it was more to keep an eye on the Elves than Millicent. Still, Charlie happily ferried her around as needed, joining her on her early morning run to the reservoir and back again. That might have been more of a mistake, neither of them was quite prepared to run a marathon, but each pushed the other on as they debated giving up on the way back.

He even took her into one of the larger cities to go hunt down game shops and big bookstores, until they’d found a selection of relevant books she could shove down the necks of the rules police.

Charlie didn’t join them for service, even after she told him Percy was going. Less of a draw when they’d seen Percy and Fleur on the Friday night for bowling and then on for a kebab, because Bill wasn’t a fan of kebabs, so whilst the cat was away, the mice would eat kebabs.

“Do you think if I burnt down Hogwarts, I could get away with it?” Millicent asked, sat on the wall watching the lovebirds.

“If we be helping,” Mopsy hummed.

“Should we burn down Hogwarts?” Millicent asked, leaning back to let her head dangle over the side, her legs anchoring her down.

“We could be doing,” Mopsy said pensively. “Why would we be burning down Hogwarts?”

“We wouldn’t have to go back,” Millicent offered up.

“What about Herbology?” Mopsy sounded almost distraught.

“We’d leave the greenhouses,” Millicent offered. “Though if the main building went up, they would probably cancel all the classes.”

“We could be waiting to burn it down?” Mopsy considered.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be fair to you,” Millicent hummed. “Probably should let Dennis finish too. So another what, four years? Give Rosie a chance to finish too.”

“We could burn down something else?” Mopsy sounded happier.

“Like what?” Millicent blew air out of her cheeks, pulling herself back into seated as the blood began to rush to her head.

“Weeds?” Mopsy wrinkled her nose as she said it.

“The Establishment?” Mopsy looked confused. So Millicent felt she had to expand upon it a little more. “The government. We are coming up to Bonfire Night, it would be in keeping.”

She’d actually be able to go to this years Bonfire Night… “We are going to offer our services to the head of the Bonfire committee. Joe.”

That would work, he might even allow her to set some fireworks off as long as Percy didn’t get involved. And he’d definitely let her set fire to the Bonfire. “We should start work on a Guy too. If we make the best one, then we win a prize.”

“A prize?” Mopsy glowed.

“We’d get our Guy to be the one on top of the bonfire, and we’d get our picture in the Village News,” Millicent grinned. “We’d hold the title until next year.”

“We be the best in the village?” Mopsy breathed.

“We would. And no one could take it away from us,” Millicent reeled her in. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” Mopsy gasped. “Miss Millicent be best Mistress.”

“It’s difficult, but I try,” Millicent grinned, giving her a small hug. “Do you think the others want to be involved?”

Mopsy considered, clearly weighing up the pros and cons. “Who be winning last year?”

“Joe,” Millicent answered. “He was the only one who entered though, and he did it the day before because no one else did. But I do know Daisy is going to try with Timmy this year. So we would be beating a small child.”

“We not be beating,” Mopsy considered some more. “We be teaching.”

“I mean, there is that,” Millicent agreed. “Unless Daisy cheats.”

“Miss Daisy wouldn’t,” Mopsy gasped.

“She probably won’t,” Millicent hedged. “I’ll tell her we’re entering.”

Chapter Text

The Beetle Drive went far better than Millicent thought it would. She’d refused to make anyone do it, however after the first “starter” round, they had six more tables join.

Rolling a die to draw a part of a beetle was surprisingly fun for a lot of people. There were a few incidents where tables hadn’t rolled a single six, until they flagged down Millicent who decided that they all could have the body to actually start drawing and not slow down the rest of the tables. For the sake of Millicent’s sanity, it was agreed that the highest scores would drop out at the end of each round.

It took most of the meeting to get from a hundred students down to four, with the last round causing a crowd with cheering and whistling until finally, after what was described by Lovegood in the Newsletter as “nailbiting”, Alexandra Kettle, a third year Hufflepuff, thrashed Rowan Hawthorpe a seventh year Ravenclaw, to become the first Hogwarts Beetledrive champion.

It was put on the list for activities to do now and again. Along with a long list of other vaguely competitive but not completely skill based games. Bingo - which Millicent refused to get even slightly involved with.

Everything settled down nicely, well, nicely enough. She had new groups of miscreants with her almost weekly, with none of them bothering to complain to a Teacher about it. Or if they did, nothing came of it.

They’d gotten well into October, and no major events to shake the school apart to report on. She was sat, with the marbles miscreants, who’d decided that they would have their own club, even though no one would supervise and they’d been told no by the Headmaster. They were on week two of early morning running and spending all of their spare time with a Prefect.

Millicent was busy pretending not to see the little shits pull faces at her, while also trying to eat, when the weekly newsletter appeared on the tables in front of everyone. There was always a bit of a hush and then excitement as people scanned through to see who’d made it in that week.

“Shit,” Blaise cursed, grabbing onto her arm.

“What?” Millicent frowned, trying to finish her breakfast before it went cold.

“Read,” he thrust it in her face.

Cross country fun

This reporter took part in the weekly running session along with sixteen other students of all ages and abilities. I was welcomed and put in the middle of the pack, with another beginner to keep pace with.

Once I got over running on slippery surfaces, through the mud and rain, I found myself laughing with the others.

We ran for forty minutes, ending with everyone covered in mud and grinning. Would I do it again? Yes. Will I wait until it’s dry? Maybe.

Cross Country running takes place every Wednesday, with informal runs most mornings starting at 6 outside the main entrance. For further details see Millicent Bulstrode.

Prof Hagrid's Bonfire for Guy Fawkes Day

Rumors regarding the Muggle Club organising a Bonfire Night have been finally confirmed by Professor Hagrid. When asked by this Reporter, we were shown where he was building the bonfire.

Speculation has run rife throughout the school as rumours spread after a senior member of the Muggle Club was overhead talking about Bonfire celebrations, however nothing was announced.

It is believed the bonfire will be lit 2nd of November, but no date has been released. Will there be fireworks? Who will be in charge of the refreshments?

As more details are released, this paper will make sure you are in the know.

Ravenclaw Wins Again

Ravenclaw are on track to win the House Cup if this weekends performance was anything to go by. Go Ravenclaw!

“What the fuck,” she hissed.

“You never said,” Theo frowned at them.

“It’s not true, that’s why,” Blaise half shouted.

“It says it’s confirmed,” Theo pointed out, and they all stared at the Top Table where Hagrid looked the palest they’d ever seen him.

“It’s got nothing to do with us,” Millicent tried to stay calm.

“Senior member of Muggle Club, that’s one of you three,” Theo said, pointing at where Dean was trying to scrabble free of his table. The other leads were also trying to extricate themselves looking pale.

“Fuck,” Millicent breathed. “Someone heard us talking about the village bonfire.”

“We’re fucked,” Blaise crumpled.

“Snape’s turned purple,” Theo winced.

“Dumbledore’s smiling,” Tracy offered.

“He’s fucking addled, when isn’t he smiling?” Millicent slumped. “Do you think they’ll do it now, or let us stew?”

The answer came with a summons for the evening, in the Headmaster’s study. She wasn’t surprised to see Bill there. She did note the lack of anyone else from Muggle Club. It appeared Dumbledore had already decided where the blame lay. Unsurprisingly it was with Millicent. Once again. She was only glad they’d made sure to have Bill there before she kicked off royally.

“We have a problem, Miss Bulstrode,” The Headmaster clasped his hands behind his back, Snape could have been mistaken for a statue, whilst Hagrid kept mopping his brow.

“Yes Sir,” a massive fucking problem.

“Perhaps you would like to enlighten us with a potential explanation of how we’ve found ourselves here?” He might be a massive prick, but sometimes, she did acknowledge he wasn’t completely inept. He was attempting to give her enough rope to hang herself. If she was a lesser snake she might even fall for it.

“After deciding it was inadvisable to burn the school down, I agreed with Mopsy to take part in the village’s bonfire celebrations. I was talking to Blaise about it a few weeks ago during lunch. I assume someone overhead part of the conversation but missed the part where it took place at home, rather than here,” Millicent decided to start from the beginning.

“The conversation didn’t take place during Muggle Club, or a the Muggle Club meeting?” The Headmaster asked.

“No Sir,” Millicent confirmed.

“Has Bonfire night been discussed at Muggle Club, or at the meeting?”

“Not by us, Sir,” Millicent clarified.

“Have you been approached to organise a Bonfire Night?”

“No Sir.”

“Were you aware of the article before this morning?”

“No Sir,” Millicent bit back a scowl. She was going to wring the duo’s necks when she next saw them. They’d been suspiciously absent since the newsletter came out. Almost as if they knew they’d fucked up.

“Now we find ourselves in a bit of a predicament,” the Headmaster gave a very twinkly smile. “The Newsletter was delivered to the Ministry, and the Minister is especially impressed with the “go getter” attitude of the Muggle Club team, and is very much looking forward to being invited to light the bonfire for the festivities.”

Bill dropped a hand on her leg as she held her breath.

“The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler have both sent requests to attend to report on such a historic occasion,” the Headmaster’s twinkle grew. “Do you see our little muddle?”

“Sir,” Millicent glanced at Bill who’d not lost the tightness in his face.

“Well, I am more than sure you are up to the job of organising the celebration,” he clapped his hands together. “Professor Hagrid will be delighted to help build the bonfire. Auror Scrimgeor will arrange a meeting to discuss security, Professor Snape and McGonagall will of course be there to help.”

“Headmaster,” Millicent for once didn’t know what to say.

“Well, a productive meeting all around,” he waved them to the door.

“My office,” Snape didn’t give her chance to breathe. Not that she thought she could.

“Explain what just happened?” Millicent asked Bill, Hagrid disappeared the moment they’d left, and Snape the moment they reached his office, had taken the pair back to the Burrow through the floo, where they’d apparated to Grans.

“We’ve been cut loose,” Bill said, glancing at Snape.

“Cut loose?”

“We’ve become a liability to the Headmaster,” Bill kept watch as Snape paced.

“We?”

“The Weasley family,” Bill grimaced.

“He has hope I may still be useful,” Snape gave a twisted smile.

“I’m being read in?” Millicent asked quietly, trying to keep track of both men.

“She reads spy novels with Julia,” Bill explained as Snape paused to give her a look. “Yes. Yes, as much as I can, I’ll explain.”

“What just happened?” Millicent still wasn’t sure why the two men were in such a state. She knew why she was, she’d just been forced to arrange a huge event with no warning.

“The Headmaster chose to leave a giant target on you, and is foisting you front and centre as a pawn in his war against the Dark Lord,” Snape said softly. “You, Bill, and the rest of the school. He is inviting war to Hogwarts.”

“War?” Millicent wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“War,” Bill nodded.

“I’m just organising a Bonfire Night,” Millicent couldn’t believe it.

“You are the figurehead to a Muggle event being witnessed by the Wizarding World, at a time when it is inviting the Dark Lord’s attention to be Muggle. He will be unable to resist attacking,” Snape met her gaze. “The attention we have been trying to quash has been for nought. By tomorrow morning everyone will know your name. You will be a figurehead for everything the Dark Lord is against.”

Bill’s knuckles whitened.

“The Headmaster is making a martyr out of me,” Millicent sat back, watching as Bill gave a minute flinch. “Well, we do clash.”

“It’s not a laughing matter,” Snape cracked.

“I’m not laughing.” They sat in silence. “Alright, well, I need something to eat, and we need to tell Molly. And probably Percy, Percy will be helpful dealing with the Ministry.”

“Milly,” Bill quietly reached out as she stood up.

“Can I take offense to Dumbledore?” She asked, a well of something white and cold welling up in her stomach.

“No,” Snape shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

“You will tell me the moment I can,” the words fell out of her mouth. “Because I will kill him.”

“The moment you can,” Bill nodded.

“Food,” she gave a half smile.

She could hear the two men talking quietly in the living room, as she carefully reheated a pie. Kreacher crept into the kitchen as she bustled about.

“Mistress?”

“Kreacher,” she attempted a smile.

“Is Mistress well?” he asked.

“Not really Kreacher, not really at all,” she answered honestly. “Would you mind gathering the others?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

By the time she was sat back in the living room, all four elves joined them.

“As of tomorrow, I am to be a target for Voldemort, which could very well lead to my demise,” Millicent decided to just get straight to the point. “If you would like to be released from my whatever this is, we can arrange that.”

That all four elves immediately glared at Bill and Snape was telling.

“By being mine, it will put targets on you,” Millicent explained.

“Dobby has already fought against the Dark Lord,” Dobby puffed his chest out.

“As have I,” Kreacher sniffed.

“Mopsy will never abandon Miss Millicent,” Mopsy shouted.

“Winky,” Winky trembled. “Winky doesn’t want to go back to Hogwarts. Winky be wanting to stay.”

“We could find you a new home,” Millicent offered. “It’s not here or Hogwarts. There are other options.”

Winky pulled on her ears. “Winky be staying.”

“Its not a one time offer, you can change your minds,” Millicent wanted to make sure they wouldn’t regret their decision.

“Kreacher?” Bill asked.

“Master William?”

“You’ve fought against the Dark Lord?” he asked.

“With Master Regulus,” Kreacher’s eyes welled, clasping his hands to his chest.

“Would you tell us?” Millicent asked gently.

Millicent didn’t get all of the context, Snape did, she could see it in his eyes, even if his face remained set. The thought of having to drink and drink and drink, Kreacher was lucky to be alive. That his Master hadn’t survived. That Kreacher had been so close to Voldemort and survived…

“Where is the locket?” Millicent asked, after he’d fallen quiet.

“Still have it,” he looked ashamed, hanging his head. “Master Regulus died for it. Had to keep it safe.”

“May we see it?” Millicent leaned forward to clasp his hand gently. “We won’t keep it.”

“Mistress orders?” Kreacher asked.

“Asks,” Millicent offered him a gentle smile. “Only if you are willing.”

“You’ll let me keep it?”

Snape made a small noise as she agreed. He could stuff it. The look of trust in Kreacher’s eyes, in all four elves faces as they stood, resolute in front of her, that meant more than keeping hold of some poxy locket.

“You are the finest Elves a girl could ever ask to know,” she said firmly. “And I will kill anyone who brings you harm.” Starting with Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

The Slytherin common room was silent as she walked back in just before curfew.

“We’re having a bonfire night,” Millicent announced. She waited a couple of seconds to let it sink in. “I’m off to bed, I’ve got little shits to run round the school at six. Good night.”

“Mil-“

“Night Blaise.”

Most, but not all of the marble miscreants were waiting, Blaise appeared with Dean and the other two miscreants.

She set the terrors off in front, hanging back as the boys adjusted to the dewy grass, and freezing fog.

“Pick your legs up,” she barked as a couple of them started to lag behind. “I can’t hear heavy breathing, work harder.”

“In training to be a PE teacher?” Dean huffed a laugh, as they heard groans from in front.

“Not a chance, I’ll leave educating the next generation to you,” Millicent attempted a grin.

“I’m staying indoors,” Dean grabbed onto Blaise as his foot skidded in mud. “If I break my leg, you’re carrying me back.”

“If that lot haven’t managed to break anything, you shouldn’t,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“Don’t take me down with you,” Blaise dodged as Dean skidded again.

“You didn’t need to join us.”

“Who are you talking to?” Blaise tugged Dean out of the way of a low hanging branch.

“Both of you,” Millicent held her hand up. “Harris, if you don’t start picking your feet up, I’m going to have you running up and down the main staircase two at a time all evening, do I make myself clear?”

“URGH!”

“You can’t say we’re having a bonfire night and not talk about it,” Blaise pointed out as if she hadn’t known that.

“Harris, I swear by all that’s fucking alive, if you don’t pick your fucking feet up - thank you, was that so hard. Reynolds it’s a puddle, you’ve run through plenty of puddles it hasn’t killed you before so it’s not going to kill you now,” Millicent shouted as Reynold’s started to act up.

“Mil,” Blaise said her name.

“Blaise,” she took a breath. “I say this with the greatest respect. Not now. Later. Lunch meeting, and then an actual chat this evening. But now I need to focus on not losing my shit and going on a massive rampage.”

“Alright,” Dean said, with Blaise grunting in agreement.

“You going back?” she asked, sparing them half a glance, neither looked overly happy.

“Stuck with us,” Dean spoke for the pair of them.

“Fuck my life.”

“Before we begin,” Millicent started the moment Irene sat down. “I am not expecting anyone's help with organising the Bonfire Night. This is purely on me. This meeting is only to talk about Muggle Club and the upcoming week. If you want to talk to me about Bonfire Night, I’m going to be in my study room this evening.”

“Alright, so let's begin. There is no way we can swing a ping pong tournament, we don’t have any of the equipment, and the marble miscreants will kick up a fuss. They will argue - and don’t even pretend you won’t Reynolds,” Millicent glared as the miscreants started getting uppity. “That ping pong balls are similar enough to marbles. Which is a stupid argument, but with how weak the leadership on high is, will work.”

“Snooker or Pool - not going to happen. I honestly - and whoever keeps suggesting it needs shooting themselves, clay pigeon shooting - not going to happen. Neither is going on a skiing trip. If people want to go on a skiing trip, then they can with their families,” Millicent ran down the latest list of suggestions handed over.

“The rules for monopoly seem reasonable - has anyone found any faults?”

“IOU’s should be banned,” Irene said. “The games last long enough without the bank bailing people out.”

“For games during Muggle Club, if there is a stalemate it needs to be resolved with a coin flip, not going around and around the board until we force them to finish playing,” Dean ground his teeth.

“We could just say once this board goes it’s not being replaced,” Dennis said, stealing Millicent’s bread roll with a cheeky grin.

“We have six monopoly sets,” Blaise said glumly.

“Alright, all those in favour of the adapted new rules?” Millicent asked, checking everyone stuck their hand up. “We’ll get bitched at on Monday, but what’s new.”

“Speaking of board games - we’ve been asked if we can do a board game library, with all games being returned by lunchtime on the following Monday,” Millicent moved on to the next point. “Objections?”

“What if they get ruined?” Violet asked.

“Same as if they get ruined in Muggle Club,” Dean answered.

“Who will be keeping track of what’s there?” Josie asked. Millicent looked at Dean.

“We’ll do a library system with cards,” Blaise answered for him. “If anyone wants to look after it they can, if not it should be easy enough to keep track of.”

“What about if more than one person wants to borrow a game at a time?”

“Most of the games we have several of, but for the up-to-date Trivial Pursuit and a couple of the others, it will be whoever asked first - and then a waiting list for who has it next,” Dean answered.

“Any more questions?” Millicent checked. “All those in favour? Great, can someone write up the card system for it? Wonderful, moving on. Prizes - I know that it’s been suggested we should have prizes, but -“

“How are we paying?”

“And what does everyone want.”

“More importantly, do we even need prizes for winning?” Millicent asked. “Because so far everyone has been more than happy with crowing rights. At the moment all of the competitions are friendly, we add prizes in and they’ll become serious.”

They spent a few minutes talking over the pros and cons, before deciding to table it and come back in a couple of months if the issue was raised again.

“Snacks,” Millicent grimaced. “People can bring their own, but not everyone does, and it’s starting to cause some issues with those who have and those who have not. We can ask and get snacks from the school, but, I could get hold of boxes of biscuits. The Village Hall gets them in for the village from a cash and carry, it shouldn’t be an issue to get extra for here.”

“Are we going to start charging?” Dennis asked with a frown.

“Nope, that would come out of the school's budget,” Millicent lied through her back teeth. She’s talk to Bill about it, or maybe Percy. See if there was anything in the school’s budget for extracurriculars. “Any objections?”

“Could we get some sweets as well?” Josie asked. “Penny sweets? A proper tuck shop, where we could buy some? It would pay for itself.”

“Not sure,” Millicent looked at Dean who wrote it down. “We’d need to talk to Lupin probably. A couple of biscuits wouldn’t be an issue, but actively selling sweets might be a step too far without asking first.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Dean nodded, making a note. “Would you be able to get them through the cash and carry?”

“I can ask,” Millicent made a note. “Just penny sweets right?”

“Do you think we could have chocolate bars as well?” Josie asked with a gleam in her eye. “Proper chocolate?”

“Talk to Lupin,” Millicent glanced up at the Head Table where Lupin was watching them carefully.

“Lastly - the weather is still promising to be fairly dry on Monday. Who wants to stay indoors and who wants to run the stone skipping competition?” Millicent asked rolling her eyes. She wasn’t sure why so many asked for it but it was clearly the most important event to ever happen as thirty seven people had signed up to take part.

“Who skips stones the best out of us lot?” Dean asked.

“We could see?” Irene offered. “Go before evening meal?”

“Let's do that,” Dean agreed. “We can decide then. Any other questions, and anything to be added to next weeks agenda?”

“School disco,” Violet said it almost before he’d stopped speaking.

“You need to talk to Lupin about it,” Millicent pointed out again.

“Can we talk about Bonfire Night next week?” Irene asked.

“Probably,” Millicent hedged. “Maybe. It can be on the Agenda but not sure I can talk about it yet.”

“Talent show,” Violet leaned over to tap Dean’s notes until he’d written it down.

“If we need another lead,” Blaise brought it up, but Millicent knew he’d not been the only one wondering about it.

“Tuck shop,” Dean added. “We should know more information next week.”

“Good meeting, very productive.”

It was unsurprising to see the study room was full. Even Neville sat anxiously in the corner with Mopsy, as Millicent strode in, throwing her bag on her desk before sitting down. “Do you want to ask questions, or do you want me to just tell you?”

“We already know,” George pointed at the other Weasley siblings. Right, Ron was there. And he’d brought fucking Granger.

“Granger knows then,” Millicent scrubbed a hand over her face.

“No,” Ron said firmly. “Harry doesn’t either.”

Why Harry felt the need to give her a little wave at his name, as if she didn’t know who he was, she’d never know. Ron also gave him a look.

“Right, well, Muggle Club part first,” Millicent blew air out of her cheeks before standing back up. “This is the point where I say what I’m about to say will put you potentially in danger, and if you want to step back entirely, or just from this part, I definitely won’t think poorly of you and anyone who does I’ll happily put in their place. Also, if you do want to continue to be involved with running Muggle Club it’s probably quite a lot more dangerous than it was two days ago.”

She waited to see if any of them left. No one did. She was surrounded by fucking idiots.

“So,” Millicent started. “Turns out, you can only push the Headmaster so far before he pushes back. As we hopefully all know, there were no plans for Bonfire Night at Hogwarts. The conversation helpfully mentioned in the Newsletter was my plans for the village bonfire. Nothing to do with Hogwarts in the slightest. I was discussing who to model my guy on with Blaise. I’m sure you can guess who it will be now.”

“What does it mean? Well, according to people in the know, it means our illustrious leader has decided to open the doors to an attack,” Millicent felt her lips curl. “Which is why I do not need help organising this mess. My name is very firmly attached. No one else needs to touch it.”

Blaise opened his mouth.

“You need to talk to your mother before you say anything. This is inviting attention from everywhere. You made a stance when you let me bully you into leading the club, but that was just internal attention. We’re talking newspapers, photographs, meeting the minister. This is being a figurehead, a very disposable figurehead for everything that is Muggle and Muggle adjacent. So you will talk to your Mother first, because she needs to know,” Millicent cut him off.

“As for everyone who isn’t a Weasley, you need to think hard before you take a stance, because the people in the know are worried. And considering they weren’t that worried about everything else that’s happened, it bothers me,” Millicent made sure to look at every individual still there. “I don’t expect an answer tonight, or even before Monday. I’m making an announcement tomorrow lunchtime to confirm that the event is going ahead and I’m the one who is doing it. Any questions?”

“You think the Headmaster wants the school to be attacked?” Irene asked seriously.

“I think the Headmaster doesn’t give a flying fuck about the safety of any of his students, and that he is only interested in his particular goal, which according to people I trust, seems to be waging war,” Millicent didn’t pull her punches. “The Minister will be attending, and the papers. I’ve no doubt I’ll be expected to open it up to “influential” members of society. It’s to be a grand spectacle.”

Harry pushed his spectacles up. “Can we stop it?”

“Bill and Snape seem to think it’s a done deal,” Millicent pulled a face. “Bill was talking to Percy today. It’s why I didn’t say anything today, in case Percy can see another way.”

“What are you going to do about the newsletter?” Dennis asked quietly. He’d been antsy since it came out. Half hovering near her, whilst constantly glancing at his brother.

“Nothing,” Millicent shrugged, relieved when he relaxed. “They didn’t report it when I was overheard talking, they confirmed with Hagrid there was a bonfire being built. I’d love to know who sent it to the Minister though, but also I can’t blame them either. It’s big news. And a politician can’t resist a feel good story, where they get to take credit and do no work.”

“So no campaigns of terror against them,” she finished after a thought. “I am tempted to let the marbles miscreants play in the headmaster's office though, death by marble would be fairly satisfying the old bastard.”

“You’d much prefer a personal touch,” Blaise dismissed the idea. “Are we going to burn him?”

“Oh yes,” Millicent purred. “We are going to make the most magnificent likeness and then we are going to watch him burn.”

Chapter Text

To say she’d gone to war with Dumbledore was an understatement. The marble miscreants were allowed to play again, but only outside of his office. She had every student she knew write to their parents to flood the Headmaster with inane and stupid requests daily.

And then, oh the crowning masterpiece, was that she would make sure to interrupt every time he started to talk to the school during meal times. Sometimes she’d stand with most of Hufflepuff joining Slytherin as if they’d not heard him and were finished eating. She enjoyed carrying on talking loudly with Blaise. Now and again, they’d all start coughing, just quietly until like a yawn it would spread around the room. Collective drinking also was far louder than Dumbletit especially when timed just right.

She’d once “accidentally” walked in front of him when he was trying to talk to one of the Governors, forcing him to almost trip. And she especially liked the slight flinches as she smiled with her teeth.

She didn’t mind Scrimgeor. He thought the idea of having a Bonfire was a ridiculous one, mainly from a security standpoint of allowing random adults into the school. Cat- McGonagall had been furious when she discovered that not only was the Minister coming, but also the papers and any parent who was able to attend.

“Percy wrote to say we need to make sure any vendors have permits,” Millicent dropped it in front of Snape and McGonagall. “Scrimgeor spoke to the Minister, and the Minister thinks we can go bigger.”

“I think we should burn the Minister as well,” Millicent smiled sweetly. “We burn the King and we burn his man. Seems poetic.”

“Well this won’t do, it’s a Tuesday night,” McGonagall stabbed at the note with her wand. “The students have school in the morning, what on earth is the man thinking of?”

“Well, I think he’s thinking, wow, won’t this look good when it comes to being reelected. That silly Dumbledore trying to drum up discontent with his silly talk of the Darklord being back. A nice historic holiday celebration to show how safe it is, what could possibly go wrong?”

“It was a rhetorical question,” Snape drawled.

“I’m not wrong though,” Millicent sulked. “Did Professor Flitwick speak to you?”

“About the choir?” Snape didn’t look impressed. “Are there any traditional songs about November the 5th?”

“Other than the rhyme? Not as far as I know,” Millicent perched on the desk. “They want to do some carols even though it’ll be November. Apparently, “they sound really good” but that’s according to Dennis and he’s in it so I wouldn’t believe everything you hear. Anyway, I didn’t have the heart to say no to Professor Flitwick. So I told him to talk to you, so you could.”

He gave her a look.

“He’s my favourite,” Millicent grinned. “Other than you, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he drawled.

“Also, someone needs to tell the bat in the belfry, that there are Guy Fawkes wasn’t discovered due to divination, he was caught due to family loyalty. So there is no need to have any tea leaves being read. It’s a bonfire not a circus,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“I shall pass on the message,” Snape looked almost pleased.

“I shall pass on the message, Severus,” McGonagall chided. “We don’t need salty tea for the next week.”

“Fred and George want to do the fireworks, and I think we should let them,” Millicent grinned as Snape cursed under his breath.

It was just any other Saturday. Any other Saturday in the middle of the fucking chaos at Hogwarts and spilling into her home life. Any other Saturday, where she was cleaning out the pig pens to burn off some of the excess rage, whilst Bill, Joe and Charlie went off to the pub. Any other Saturday as the days got shorter, and the nights drew in.

She wasn’t sure what tipped her off - no that was a lie, it was the pigs that tipped her off something was wrong. And then the cows. And then came the howl. As the overwhelming stench from the pigs blocked her sense of smell, so too did it for them.

Millicent had the advantage. She had a weapon, she was hidden inside a thick stone-built pen, and by fuck did she know her way around Joe’s like the back of her hand.

The first wolf didn’t survive entering the pen. She rammed the pitchfork through its head, skewering it to the floor, twisting, the sound of its neck breaking and then ripping, lost beneath the excited squeals of the pigs.

The second, barely made it through the door, straight into her hands. This one she felt die, as she ripped its head from its body, tossing them into the corner, before removing the pitchfork from the first.

The third howled directly outside. Millicent wasn’t stupid. She let it come to her, hiding until it made its way fully inside, to thrust the pitchfork once again, this time aiming for the chest, standing over it as it thrashed beneath her.

Three left.

Two left.

One left.

Millicent left the safety of the death pen, stalking out into the cloudless moonlit sky. The last wolf was waiting, in the trees. She could see its form, slinking. Trying to lure her over. While she was trying to lure it to her. She wanted to fight it under the bright moonlight. She wanted to see it squirm beneath her as she watched its last breath fade from its lungs. She even dropped the pitchfork to make it fairer, opening her arms wide hands open. No wand here. No weapon. Just Millicent.

Her face twisted into a malicious taunting smile. The drying blood cracked as her lips widened. Silence as they stared each other down. Both knew they would win. But it would not win. This was her land. She dared it to take it from her.

“Try me,” she whispered, watching as the amber eyes glistened in the gloom. “Try me!”

There was no warning as Bill appeared between her and her prey, wand out, his back to the wolf. Millicent sprinted forward to protect him knowing already the outcome. Too late. The wolf leapt from the cover of trees, crashing him to the floor face first, about to rip into him as she got there, her hands ramming into its jaws and wrenching, twisting, until it stopped moving, until it stopped.

Charlie came next, with Joe beside him, shotgun cocked.

“He’s hurt,” she whispered, throwing the wolf away from Bill, dropping to her knees.

She wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. There was shouting. Gun shots. Then they were at a hospital. She kept trying to say she was fine, it was Bill who was hurt. It was Bill who needed to be looked after. Millicent was fine. She was. She could handle herself.

Molly held Bill’s hand, and Millicent held Charlie’s. She could hear Arthur talking behind her, the words not penetrating the thick fuzz as she watched Bill’s chest rise and fall. She had to concentrate, had to make sure it continued to rise and fall. It needed to.

The wolf had torn into his shoulder, leaving deep bloody gashes all the way to his bones. She didn’t want to see Bill’s bones again. She liked them covered in his flesh, in his skin. They said he was lucky she’d stopped his throat from being ripped out. She could see the indentations where the fangs had pressed into his fragile skin.

He shouldn’t have been there. He should’ve been with Charlie and Joe. Drinking. She didn’t know why he came back. He should’ve been safe, in the pub, drinking ale and eating peanuts while talking rubbish. He should be coming home smelling of smokes, stale ale, damp and Betsy. He should be making himself a sandwich and leaving the knife halfway off the sink, and crumbs on the side. Half a cup of tea drunk with the teaspoon still in the mug, barely balancing on a coaster, and his boots propped up by the back door, the radio turned on low as he snoozes until one of the Elves comes down to tell him to go to bed.

He shouldn’t be here.

He should never have been at Joe’s.

Werewolf attack. Of course, it was a werewolf attack. Britain didn’t have native wolves any more. Not unless they had escaped from a zoo. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything at all. Not until Bill woke up. It took all night and well into the following morning, with Millicent staring at Bill, making sure his chest rose and fell. Willing it to happen.

“You fucking idiot,” she cried as he opened his eyes. “You fucking careless idiot.”

“Love you too,” he croaked.

She wasn’t asked any questions. Not at the hospital. Not afterward. Not when Charlie took her home.

Six dead wolves, laid out in her backyard. All shot in the head straight between the eyes and heart. 12 bullet holes. Joe turned up shortly after they got back the Mopsy and Winky both clinging to Millicent’s legs, Kreacher and Dobby standing closely by.

“What do you want to do with your kills?” Joe asked, lighting up himself a cigarette before offering one to Charlie.

“A cloak.” Millicent stared at the pile. “And I want to leave their heads somewhere as a warning.”

“A fine warning it will be,” he agreed. “Here?”

“No,” Millicent looked at Charlie. “Do we know where they came from? Because they are going back.”

“I know a man who can find out,” Charlie said placidly.

“This is my home,” Millicent took a deep breath.

It took the better part of the afternoon to painstakingly skin the largest, keeping the head of the beast intact, her fingers sliding underneath to loosen it from the skull. Most of the evening to ensure all the flesh and sinew was gone. Joe promised to get it tanned for her, as Kreacher and Dobby disappeared off with the remaining heads and left them on stakes surrounding where they’d been sent from.

They promised they’d not been seen. She believed them. Winky perched on Charlie’s lap, but Mopsy wouldn’t leave Millicent alone, clinging onto her as she worked, washing her with magic every time even a drop of blood fell onto any part of Millicent barring her fingers. She could feel Mopsy trembling. She didn’t have the words to soothe.

“What do you want to do with the rest of them?” Joe asked, kicking the headless corpses.

“Pigs?” Millicent asked.

“Pigs’ll eat them,” Joe agreed. “Done it before.”

Charlie offered to get them back with magic, but Millicent declined the offer. Choosing instead to haul them into a wheelbarrow and walk them down the lane to Joe’s. Some already had chunks ripped out of them. It was only fair to let the pigs finish the job.

“You going back tomorrow?” Joe asked after she’d hosed off the worst of the muck.

“Yes.” She had to. She promised Gran she’d finish her schooling and if she didn’t go back now, she would never. Not even to kill Dumbledore. She had to go back, so the people who thought it was a good idea to send werewolves to attack her home, understood that it was not a good idea at all.

She wasn’t sure what rumours were flying around the school. She knew the Weasley clan knew about Bill, and her inability to protect him. She knew they hovered around her. She knew that even the marble miscreants kept quiet. That the common room was all but silent when she sat and quietly did her work. That Dennis stared at her with sad eyes. That Harry couldn’t meet her gaze.

They were all waiting for her to snap. She could feel it, see it, smell it.

“Miss Millicent needs to be eating,” Mopsy nudged her gently as she sat in the study room, finishing off the group assignment for Magical Creatures. Mopsy was never far away. Not any more.

“Thank you,” Millicent took a sip of the broth, before going back to her work.

“Miss Millicent needs to be eating more than that,” Mopsy whispered, clenching her hands.

“Please can you get me something to eat,” Millicent agreed quietly. Not looking up from her work. When a thick ham sandwich appeared in front of her, she took a bite. “Thank you, Mopsy.”

“Miss Millicent needs to be eating three meals a day,” Mopsy twitched.

“I will do my best,” Millicent said. “Thank you for your concern Mopsy.”

“Mopsy be thinking Miss Millicent be needing to see the Matron,” Mopsy whispered.

“Perhaps you are correct,” Millicent agreed. She wasn’t going to see the Matron.

“Mopsy be talking to the Matron?”

“No thank you.”

“Miss Millicent, Mopsy be worried.”

“You don’t need to be worried, I’m perfectly calm,” Millicent attempted a smile. The hiss from Mopsy didn’t assure her it worked. “I’ve not had any headaches, and my urge to kill has dramatically reduced.”

What ripping heads off will do for a person. She’d never felt so calm. So collected. So numb.

“Mopsy be worried,” Mopsy repeated.

“I know, you don’t have to be,” Millicent attempted another smile. “Could you check for me?”

On Bill. Mopsy kept checking for her. Whenever Millicent was in class, Mopsy would go to the Burrow and keep an eye on Bill. He’d been discharged on the Monday morning, and Molly was looking after him, because Millicent couldn’t. Wasn’t able to. Couldn’t be trusted.

She pulled her thumbnail out of her mouth, getting back to checking over the finished assignment with unseeing eyes.

She needed to be faster. She needed to have lured it into the pen. If she’d just killed it without trying to play with it Bill wouldn’t have been hurt. Millicent failed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever failed like that before. And Bill paid the price. The Weasley family paid the price for Millicent’s failure.

She caught Harry flinching as Millicent stood up to leave. He knew exactly how dangerous Millicent was. No wonder he was afraid.

She stopped using the study room, choosing to keep to her room, only appearing in the Common room when it was her time to.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Doctor Withers called for her to stay as Millicent attempted to slip out.

“Doctor Withers,” Millicent looked at her ear, keeping her hands firmly behind her back, locked together so they wouldn’t be seen as a threat.

“I was sorry to hear about William, please pass on my best wishes,” Doctor Withers wasn’t looking at her either. Millicent understood why.

“I will do.”

“If you require an extension, in this instance it will be granted.”

“I won’t require it, thank you for the offer.” Millicent wasn’t the one injured. Millicent was fine. She’d not given it her all, and because she hadn’t Bill wasn’t fine. Millicent didn’t deserve extensions. She didn’t deserve excuses. Millicent was a failure. “May I go?”

Doctor Withers nodded with a small frown.

“We’re coming home this weekend with you,” George told her as she stood in Snape’s office waiting for him to open up his floo to let her go home. Not that she deserved to go home. She didn’t need to look up to know that Ginny and Ron were with Fred and George.

Chapter Text

“You aren’t coming on Tuesday,” Millicent told Bill as he started to talk about it.

“I am.”

“You’re injured. It’s dangerous, you are staying here with Molly and Arthur. None of you are coming on Tuesday,” Millicent clenched her hands together tightly behind her back, forcing herself not to lose her temper.

“Dear, we are all going on Tuesday.” Molly was smiling at Millicent as if Millicent hadn’t hurt her son.

“I forbid it.” Millicent snapped, digging her nails into her arm as hard as she could. “I’ll talk to Scrimgeor and you’ll all be banned.”

“You can’t do that,” Percy said gently.

“I can. It’s my Bonfire. I make the rules.”

“Milly,” Bill said gently. “We’re all going to be there.”

“No, you aren’t.” She wouldn’t be able to cope if they were. Too many people were going. She wouldn’t be able to make sure he was safe, that they would be safe. Too many threats, from too many sides.

He held his hand out to her as she took a step back. “I’m going to be next to you, we agreed this weeks ago. Mum and Dad are going to be with Minerva and Severus. Percy’s going to be with the Minister, and Charlie will be with the younglings.”

“No, because you are all banned from coming.” She could feel her breath starting to catch. “I’ll get Mopsy to lock you all up somewhere safe. She will. They all will.”

“Milly,” he crooned softly, taking a slow step forward as she took another back. “It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Millicent shook her head. “Dumbledore is inviting war. That’s what’s going to happen. War. You can’t be there. You can’t be hurt. Not again. Don’t - you can’t do that to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I can’t - don’t, don’t-“

“Oh love,” Bill knelt next to her as she collapsed to the floor, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

She wasn’t sure what the Matron made her drink the morning of the Bonfire, but the numbness trickled throughout her body after breakfast. The anxiety gone by lunchtime, not returning even when the classes were canceled as the school filled with vendors, and aurors and politicians.

The rage, the overwhelming rage broke through the numbness, as Dumbledore shook hands with the Minister in his office, in front of her, barely made itself known. The smile felt as fake as the Ministers.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the Minister greeted her after “catching up” with Dumbledore. Bill stood by her side in his best pair of jeans, and the jumper Molly had knit just for this very occasion, a bonfire and fireworks as the design. Millicent was wearing a matching one, instead of the school robes Dumbledore had suggested. Like she was going to support him in anyway shape or form.

“I hope you’ve remembered to wear something warm,” Millicent said bluntly. “Best part of a Bonfire Night is freezing in the drizzle, while we ooh and ahh over the overly loud and slightly pathetic fireworks. You’ll be glad to know we decided against sparklers though.”

He looked confused, glancing at Dumbledore who gave a small shake of his head.

“Sparklers are wonderful things, when you know what you're doing with them. They also stay incredibly hot for hours afterwards and often given people terrible burns. Can you imagine a bunch of children running around with them,” Millicent laughed, and the Minister copied her as if she was telling some jape. Bill merely smiled.

“There will be a little explanation as to Bonfire Night and why we celebrate it, but I’m happy to let you tell the tale if you’d like,” Millicent offered.

“It would be better coming from you,” he lied. He hadn’t a clue. She’d asked Doctor Withers to do it, who’d also declined although she had agreed to fact check Millicent’s speech.

“Quite. Will you be wanting to light the Bonfire? And will you be aiming for the Guy?”

She felt a frisson of delight as he looked confused again. “The Guy is the figure we put on top of the bonfire. Some like to set the guy alight, as well as setting the fire off below. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Perhaps the Minister should see the fire before making the decision,” Bill suggested lightly, entwining his fingers in hers as they started to wriggle of their own accord.

“What a marvellous idea,” the Minister exclaimed.

“Well, I need to be getting downstairs to check on the last minute details,” Millicent smiled with only half her teeth showing.

Scrimgeor looked unimpressed by the sheer amount of people already starting to crowd the huge bonfire. And more so when she told him they’d all back off the moment it started because it would get insanely hot.

Hagrid and the Seventh Year Care of Magical Creatures students were busy checking for the last time nothing had crawled into the pile during the day. Millicent hadn’t quite regretted telling him about it being something to be concerned about. Hagrid’s normal bonfires were piled up and lit almost immediately. This had been in the making for three weeks. He’d had to remove more than one fox, and countless hedgehogs. Or the same one that kept going back in.

She’d seen how manic Fred and George had been before meeting up with the Minister. The Twins choosing to set off fireworks from the top of the Astronomy balcony, much to the dislike of several professors. Millicent thought it was a brilliant idea personally. She’d brought in the fire brigade’s video over firework safety and played it for the school. The further away from the students, the better in her opinion. Even if they’d worked with Snape to make them as safe as possible.

Two former students brought muggle food, having already sold out of bonfire treacle as the hordes descended having had weeks being cut off from Hogsmeade. The other vendors were raking in money selling hot food and hot drinks as the Scottish drizzle descended whilst they waited for the all clear from Hagrid and Scrimgeor.

Bill stuck to her side the entire time, greeting people she hadn’t a clue about with the same easy smile, while she watched for threats. Everyone was a threat. She just wasn’t sure she could kill them all.

The all clear finally came, and the Minister appeared followed by Dumbledore, standing on the small raised stage with Millicent and Bill in the middle.

She tuned out the Ministers bollocks, only paying attention as her name was called. Bill gave a sly wink.

“Welcome. A few things before we get started, so we’re all on the same page. This is my house, and in my house we play by my rules,” Millicent purred, teeth on display as the grounds fell silent. “Anyone caught seriously infringing on my rules will be fed to the fire.”

There was an awkward silence, before the Minister fake laughed. Bill merely squeezed her hand.

“It is a real fire, it will get really hot. This is no illusion. Do not go near the fire. The fireworks are real fireworks. Do not approach anything that falls to the floor, it will also be very hot and will most likely give you severe burns that will last for the rest of your life,” Millicent smiled sweetly. “Now that we’ve done our little safety announcement, we can move on to the important things. This is a school. This is our school. This is where most of you attended or are attending. This is where your children will attend. This is your heritage, and like it or not, it endures. Treat it with respect. Treat the students with respect.”

She paused, making sure her words had sunk in.

“For those who don’t know why this celebration is important, a brief history. This goes all the way back to the 5th November, 1605. A time where there was great change and upheaval in our fair nations political system. At this time, a small group of discontented citizens looked to the Country and wanted change. To achieve this, they had a simple goal. To blow up the Houses of Parliament, with the King inside. To take out the seat of power in one big bang. They didn’t succeed. Instead, the plot was discovered, and eight of the surviving discontents were hung, drawn and quartered. Now the people at the time, thought that the survival was a marvellous thing and celebrated the continuation of the status quo. Which in turn, over the years turned into this, Bonfire Night.

“Guy Fawkes is the most commonly known of the plotters, and it is his effigy that is often burned. To many the men were villains. To some, heroes.” Millicent paused to glance up at the “Guy” at the top of the bonfire. They’d done a marvellous job of making it up to look just like Dumbledore.

“In some places, instead of Guy Fawkes, we burn the king. I will confess, where I come from, Guy Fawkes is known as a hero, in the same vein as Robin Hood. A man prepared to take out the rot at the top,” Millicent smiled fully. “The Minister is kindly going to light the fire. And while it takes, the Choir will entertain you with some traditional songs. After which, there will be a half hour fireworks display. Please enjoy the evening.”

She took a step back, allowing the Minister to take center stage, Bill holding her hand tightly, as it trembled.

The fire caught almost immediately, and she watched as the Minister chose to shoot a flame up to the garish robes, the headmaster's likeness disintegrating as the fire licked underneath and above.

“Long live the king,” she mouthed mockingly.

The choir weren’t terrible, and when the crowd joined in with some of the more well known songs, it almost sounded good. They got a huge round of applause, and there were plenty of flashes of cameras going.

She watched as Scrimgeor got more antsy as nothing happened. A couple of adults needed to be pulled away from the fire, as they got drunker and colder. Several students were stopped from stealing alcohol. There was a mini riot when the hot cider ran out, until the house elves saved the day with huge kettles full of tea and coffee.

Everyone's faces grew redder, as the cold and damp fought even the best warming charm, with people huddling as best as they could.

A loud whistle rang out, followed by an enormous bang, and everyones head cracked back to watch the nightsky as the biggest starburst in multicolours fragmented into smaller bursts until it almost completely filled the black abyss above.

Smaller colourful puffs of fireworks went in different directions, before whizzers screamed loudly, leaving colourful smoke trails before ending in a loud bang and a fizzle.

Millicent had no idea how they’d managed to get a dragon to work, but it drew gasps of awe, as did the house emblems. There was a shriek as the Giant Squid made itself known after another round of huge starbursts. She was especially impressed when they timed the explosions so that they echoed around the school leaving the entire grounds deathly silent as the last of the fireworks faded into the night.

She wasn’t sure who was the most disappointed as the Headmaster called the evening to an end. Nothing happened. No, she knew exactly who was the most disappointed. Dumbledore. He’d kept watch the entire time, not on the sky, but on the crowd. But not even as the adults started to leave, did anything other than the occasional drunken stumble happen.

Almost all the students happily trailed back inside to the warmth, chattering like crows, hopped up on sugar, disappearing off to their various houses. The Aurors keeping watch and helping those who were too gone to escort themselves out.

Millicent sat in front of the fire, a lost coat her cushion from the wet grass, as the vendors packed up, Bill sitting by her side.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a good time,” Millicent answered honestly. “I had a time.”

“The Minister was telling everyone how much fun it was and how he couldn’t wait for next year,” he murmured into her hair.

“That’s because he’s a fucking idiot,” Millicent half heartedly laughed. “As long as I don’t have to organise it, I couldn’t care less.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe.”

“Favourite moment of the night?” He asked, waving at Percy who was busy talking seriously with someone from the Ministry, that Millicent had been introduced to but she’d not paid attention to. Percy waved back, with a subtle rolling of his eyes.

“The Minister setting fire to Dumbledore, while Dumbledore watched with that stupid expression on his face,” Millicent said after thinking for a moment.

“I especially liked how you claimed the entire school as yours and no one disagreed with you,” he said, lips twitching.

“Honestly,” Millicent gave him a small grin. “I’ve found that as long as I say things with confidence, most people don’t. Even when they know better.”

“Mine was when you threatened to throw people on the fire to watch them burn,” Charlie sprawled out, kicking his feet out to toast them by the fire.

“The fireworks were great,” Ollie appeared, with a cup of steaming something, squatting after deciding against sitting in the wet.

“They were great,” Millicent agreed.

“Fred’s offered to replicate some for the village’s bonfire on Saturday,” Charlie commented, lighting up a cigarette and sharing it with Ollie.

“Someone needs to warn Joe, he’s the one in charge of fireworks,” Millicent frowned.

“I’ll talk to Joe,” Bill stole the lit cigarette off Ollie, choking as he took a drag.

“You saw him light it,” Millicent rolled her eyes.

“I did,” he agreed, taking another drag.

“Eric’s looking forward to Saturday,” Ollie stole it back. “Is this Joe’s stuff?”

“Nah, it’s from the Farra’s,” Charlie grinned. “Don’t hog it. Daisy said she’s not going to grow any, so it’s a precious commodity now.”

“There are still some aurors about,” Percy sighed, while Fleur took a sneaky drag, she looked like a princess in all of her furs, and rosy red nose.

“It’s a tiny amount,” Charlie snorted. “Can’t even smell it.”

“Because you buy horrific tobacco that smells like absolute dog shit,” Millicent scoffed. “I’m surprised anyone can smell anything.”

“Do aurors even care?” Ollie asked, tilting his head in the deepest of thoughts while passing it back to Charlie.

“Maybe we should ask,” Millicent suggested sweetly. “I am now best friends with the Auror Scrimgeor.”

“True,” Bill laughed. “We’ll have to make sure he’s on the top table at our wedding.”

“How much is only a little?” Millicent asked Charlie, who grinned.

“I’m injured,” Bill ruffled her hair. “Allow me to be relieved that I didn’t have to back you up if you decided to throw the Headmaster onto the fire.”

“I promised I wasn’t going to,” she huffed, before grinning. “Watching him burn though may be in my top ten all time moments of coming to Hogwarts.”

“What’s number one?”

“Slicing open Malfoy’s hand and watching him almost faint,” she grinned. “Mainly because he’s been my foe longer than Dumbletwat.”

“I miss having a foe,” Ollie sighed. “What’s Flint up to, Perce?”

“He’s currently working his way up through the sports department,” Percy answered. “He’s doing alright, we went for drinks with him one night.”

“Nice man,” Fleur answered with a small yawn, before holding her hand out for the cigarette again.

“He was a prick,” Millicent said, with Ollie sighing sadly.

“I miss him,” Ollie whined.

“Next time we go out, I’ll make sure to invite you,” Percy patted him on the shoulder. “He’s seeing one of the transport department girls, half blood. We could triple date.”

“Don’t subject Eric to Flint,” Millicent said to Ollie.

“He’s better now,” Percy said. “Still a bit of a prick, but he’s not as sexist.”

“He’s the reason why Slytherin has no girls on the Quidditch team,” Millicent explained to Bill’s confused expression.

“You hate Quidditch,” Charlie snorted.

“It’s the principal of the matter,” she rolled her eyes. “And yeah, it’s fucking stupid.”

“Oi,” Ollie exclaimed.

“Miss Bulstrode,” Snape said her name firmly. “You were supposed to have returned to the school with the rest of the pupils, over an hour ago.”

“Someone did an excellent job of keeping track of the students then,” she said not as quietly as she’d meant, with Charlie turning purple trying to not laugh.

“Now.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes, clambering to her feet, holding out her hand to help both Weasley brothers up. “You lot probably should be gone too.”

Chapter Text

If she was being honest, the news that Scrimgeor and his team had caught two animagi at the Bonfire, as she was sat at the kitchen table scoffing fish and chips, drenched in salt and vinegar was a little underwhelming. It did explain the hedgehog constantly returning to the fire though, so there was that. Finding out there was also a beetle, and it was someone called Rita, well, she was utterly gobsmacked. Bill didn’t buy it for a second.

“Shame we didn’t catch the rat,” Charlie muttered, stealing another handful of chips from the middle of the table. They’d forgone going bowling due to the chaos of both Bonfire Nights. She was looking forward to the village one much more than she had Hogwarts.

“Should I ask?” Millicent checked with Bill. They’d gotten much more lax talking about things since the Dumbledore incident.

“You might already know,” Bill gave a half hearted shrug, wincing as it pulled on his wound.

“Going to be honest, I don’t know a thing about rats,” Millicent smacked Charlie’s hand as he went to steal from her side. He could squabble with Bill over sharing, but she needed her portion. Well, maybe not need, but she wasn’t going to let him pilfer when there was still some left in their pile.

“She probably still doesn’t know about Sirius,” Charlie pointed out, stealing a chip from Bill’s paper, grinning as Bill failed to catch him in time.

“Next time just order more,” Bill half growled.

“They taste better when they're stolen,” Charlie leaned back, licking his fingers, half a dozen chips still on his paper. “I may have eaten too much.”

“Sirius is the “other” one right,” Millicent checked, tearing apart her third fish, biting back a moan as it hit her tongue.

“Yes, the “other” one,” Bill stole Charlie’s chips and dipped them in the mushy peas he’d taken to getting. She hated them, in fact, only Bill seemed to like them. The odd bod.

“Well, I can tell you what we’ve been talking about when talking about him,” Millicent offered, pretending not to see him eat the peas.

“Alright,” Charlie said with a grin, kicking his feet up onto the table leg, hands behind his head. “Should be good.”

“So, we - and by this I mean, Blaise, Dean, Ginny - and it turns out Neville, all thought that Lupin and the “other” one were in a gay relationship,” Millicent smacked Bill on the back as he started to choke. “Except, now we know Daisy’s seeing Lupin, obviously Lupin isn’t completely gay. Other than that, and the fact he’s Harry’s other guardian, I know nothing.”

“Daisy isn’t seeing Remus,” Bill told her again.

“Dog man.” Millicent let it sit.

“Isn’t Remus,” Bill repeated.

“Well unless I killed dog man the other week, who else could it be,” Millicent challenged him.

“Sirius, Sirius is dog man,” Charlie answered before Bill could. “Told you she didn’t know about Sirius.”

“Alright,” Millicent finished eating her final fish, mopping up all the bits of scraps with her finger. “Explain.”

She hadn’t expected them to go into as much detail, nor for the look from Bill when she claimed she’d never heard of Sirius. “Look, we had bigger fish to fry in third year. Malfoy was a complete arsehole, he wouldn’t shut up the entire time. And Audrey’s sister abandoned us, so we were either in class, running or in our dorm room. And I was still in trouble over the whole sticking Granger in a headlock to win the duel. Which at no point did anyone say I couldn’t do.”

“And!” she pointed her finger at Bill. “You’re idiot little brother accused me of sabotaging a potion, and fucking Catbag gave me the dirtiest looks, granted that was the year before, but still. She’s never liked me. Not once did she ever look in my direction with anything other than disdain. And she wonders why I have no respect.”

“Oh,” Bill looked at Charlie. “It was your cat.”

“My cat?”

“Mum was livid with them when she found out,” Charlie gave a half laugh. “Dad wasn’t happy either.”

“Ron, Harry and Hermione decided they were going to brew polyjuice in your second year, to break into Slytherin, to find out about the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione chose you to steal a hair from, except she got one of Miss Oliviette's,” Bill explained. “He owes you an apology for that. They all do, but Ron’s the only one we can make. If you mentioned it to Harry, he probably would without being prompted.”

“Those absolute fuckwits. He has the cheek to blame me, for something they did to themselves. My hair doesn’t look anything like cat hair. AND-“ Millicent stopped herself. “No. It’s fine. It was years ago. We’ve moved on.”

Both brothers gave her a look.

“I’m trying to move on. Catbag hated me before they did that anyway, she has a dislike for anyone wearing green,” Millicent shrugged. “She’s only gotten better since Molly had a word. Now she just pretends we don’t exist for the most part.”

“Severus wasn’t a lot better,” Charlie didn’t sound completely defensive.

“Snape hates anyone who doesn’t pay attention or take it seriously. Potions is dangerous,” Millicent pointed out. “And do you know who pays fuck all attention? The stupid house. They just fuck about a lot.”

“Can you not call it the stupid house?” Bill asked with a small sigh.

“Only when they stop being stupid,” Millicent countered. “Because brewing polyjuice unsupervised is pretty fucking stupid. Stealing hair is also pretty fucking stupid.”

“She’s not entirely wrong,” Charlie said with a laugh.

“Malfoy,” Bill challenged.

“I mean yeah, he’s a fucking idiot too,” Millicent agreed. “We’re the sly house. Hufflepuff is the house of the try hards, and Ravenclaw for the smart arses.”

“Anyway, I’m doing my best to forgive and forget past indiscretions,” Millicent moved on.

“Very big of you,” Bill graced her with a grin.

“So yes, that’s why, when you want to know why I can’t remember the mass murderer on the loose, that’s why. Because he wasn’t targeting us, and if he was going to, it’s not like Dumbletwat or Catbag would shed a tear,” Millicent shrugged.

“Severus would.” She gave Bill a look. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Snape would see it as a personal failing if something happened to us,” Millicent semi agreed. “He wouldn’t cry though. But oh, if a lion has a splinter - or black eye for instance, they are soon on tracking down the evil snake who did it.”

“Not bitter about Dennis at all,” Bill leaned back, kicking Charlie’s feet off the table legs to fit his on.

“She didn’t even ask, she went straight into suspicion,” Millicent threw her hands up. “And I got pulled over the coals for “not paying her any respect” which - granted, it might have appeared to a lay person that was the case-“

“It was the case,” Bill interrupted her.

“But I only pay her the same respect she pays me,” Millicent carried on. “So. In the end. Am I even in the wrong? I don’t think I am.”

“Sadly, for the next two years, you are,” Charlie said, trying to dislodge Bill’s feet.

“Well fuck that,” Millicent huffed. “So Sirius Black is a dog. And he was betrayed by a rat. Except he’s on the run because he didn’t get a proper trial? And he was Dumbledore’s man. Who didn’t think maybe he wasn’t a mass murderer? He really is the absolute worst.”

“He’s not killing people for the crime of being born,” Bill pointed out.

“How many people have died because of his actions.” Millicent carried on before he could interject. “Look, I’m not saying the other side is good. Just it’s more both sides are terrible.”

“She’s not saying anything Percy hasn’t,” Charlie yawned.

“Because Dumbledore is a fucking menace. I will happily fight Voldemort for the right to kill Dumbledore,” Millicent bit back a yawn. “Thanks for that, prick.”

Charlie yawned again, stretching out and showing his belly button.

“Put it away,” Bill sighed.

“Why haven’t they caught the rat?” Millicent asked. “Can’t be that hard, it’s a rat.”

“Because the person who could the easiest, is a spy,” Bill answered.

“Snape.” Neither man looked surprised when she said his name.

“Alright, so, get someone else to do it, surely Lupin with his nose could? Or can’t there be a tip off and the ministry catches it?” Millicent asked waving her hands about to emphasise the point that they didn’t need to even involve Dumblegit.

“Dumbledore hasn’t thought it a priority,” Charlie answered the unasked part of the question.

“Well, if Sirius is dating Daisy, it would be nice if he wasn’t locked up,” Millicent crossed her arms.

“Stop doing that,” Bill said with a sigh. “It’s not doing what you think it is.”

“It just draws the eye,” Charlie agreed.

“But it’s satisfying to cross your arms,” Millicent unfolded them, tugging her shirt down.

“When you’ve got to Mum’s age, you’ll be able to do it all you like, until then, it’s just giving people something to stare at,” Bill patted her on the shoulder.

“I don’t want to wait that long,” Millicent whined. “What if I crossed them lower down - no, yeah I see what you mean now.”

“Yep,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Poor Dennis turned purple when you did it at your birthday party.”

“I’ll try hands on hips,” Millicent glanced down. “That’s not too bad right?”

“It shows you have hips and a waist, but it’s not as bosom prominent,” Charlie answered honestly.

“I’ll have a think about it,” Millicent pouted.

“Probably for the best,” Bill said with a jaw cracking yawn. “It’s almost eleven, where’s the night gone?”

“With you explaining the history of the world,” Millicent reluctantly stood up. “God you do go on and on.”

“Thanks,” Bill let her tug him to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” she grinned as Charlie held his hand out to be tugged up too. “Lazy.”

“You did it to Bill.”

“Because he’s elderly,” Millicent dodged as Bill half heartedly swatted at her. “Look, reaction times of Mr Smith.”

“Look,” Bill shook his finger at her. “At least I knew about the escape of Sirius Black.”

“Because you are old and read the newspapers,” Millicent shrieked as he wiggled his fingers in a mock attempt to tickle.

“Are you staying the night?” Bill asked Charlie, as she made her way to the stairs.

“Are you going to kick again?”

“I don’t kick.”

“And Dobby doesn’t sing in his sleep,” Charlie scoffed.

“Dobby sings in his sleep?” Millicent perked up. “I didn’t know that.”

“Kreacher’s sleeping in the attic,” Bill glanced upwards. “Told me that it was that, or we’d only have three elves, and Mopsy has plans for Dobby so he was removing himself from the situation.”

“That’s very mature of him,” Millicent beamed.

“I would’ve preferred Dobby going up to the attic if I’m being honest,” Bill laughed.

“Silencing charm,” Millicent offered.