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Author: girlyswot Story: The Squib Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 7 Words: 63,028
Disclaimer: Thanks to J.K.Rowling for creating Harry Potter and his world and letting people play in it. And thanks to Gabriella Du Sult for inspiring me with George/Padma and to St Margarets for Jack Jordan and other next generation inspiration. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Ben leaned against the wall and tucked the phone under his ear wishing he could just hang up. It was almost two weeks since Laura’s party and the moment he’d been dreading had now arrived. ‘Sorry it’s been a while. I’ve been on holiday and then I couldn’t find your number,’ Zoe chattered on. ‘I thought you’d memorized it,’ Ben interrupted dryly. ‘Good point. Okay, I’ve been bottling it.’ ‘Bottling it?’ He was incredulous. ‘You know, afraid.’ ‘I know what it means. I just didn’t think you had it in you,’ he explained. ‘I’m full of surprises,’ she retorted lightly. ‘So what did you want?’ Ben attempted to sound bored but was afraid it just came out grumpy. ‘To talk to you,’ Zoe said as if it was obvious. ‘Right. Well, talk away.’ She giggled. ‘You really are uncomfortable about this, aren’t you?’ Ben let out a long sigh. ‘Yes.’ ‘It’s because of Bert, isn’t it?’ He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry.’ He wondered if she had any idea what it would do to his twin to find out that his brother was… friends… with his girlfriend. ‘No,’ she continued jauntily. ‘I told Bert it was over between us. That day I met you outside Diagon Alley, actually.’ He didn’t reply. He couldn’t believe she really thought that made it any better. Oh Bert, by the way, you know your girlfriend dumped you for me. ‘And you wonder that I was afraid,’ said Zoe after a long pause. ‘Ben? Are you still there?’ ‘Mm.’ ‘So what are you doing tomorrow night?’ He made no reply. ‘Great. I’ll meet you outside the cinema on Green Road. Eight o’clock. Okay?’ ‘Look,’ Ben tried to explain. ‘Look, Zoe… I…’ ‘Eight o’clock tomorrow. Goodnight, Ben.’ He heard the dialling tone and slowly replaced the receiver, wishing he couldn’t hear her voice ringing in his head, wishing she wasn’t so good at reading his mind, wishing he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again. ### Don’t play games with him. Laura had had plenty of time to consider Bert’s advice while she finished her work experience at the Ministry. Was she serious about Jack? She’d never thought about it much before. Boys were fun, as far as she was concerned. She’d play Quidditch with them, muck about with them and, from time to time when she felt like it, kiss them. Do you always get what you want, Laura Potter? She remembered Jack’s face, grinning wickedly down at her while he held her close and swayed with the music. Laura grimaced. Maybe she did tend to get what she wanted. As an only child of two adoring parents, how could she help but be a little spoiled? She sighed and glanced over at Uncle Percy’s secretary. Maeve had come in that morning proudly showing off a hideous ring that she wore on her fourth finger. Wilfrid had finally screwed up the courage to pop the question and Maeve was determined to make the most of her moment of triumph. At coffee time, Percy had ordered a box of cakes from the bakery and Maeve had taken the opportunity to tell everyone how she’d executed her plan to snare Wilfrid. The other girls from the office had giggled and congratulated the newly-engaged witch but Laura felt slightly sickened. She’d never met Wilfrid but she felt sorry for him. The poor wizard didn’t seem to have had a chance against Maeve, once the woman had made up her mind to have him. That settled it, then. Laura would not scheme or plan or play games. She’d leave it up to Jack. If he was interested, he knew where to find her and if not… Well, if not, at least she’d know. ### It was a fundamental rule that Aurors had drilled into them from the first day of training. Don’t let it get personal. Go home and forget. It was a good rule and Bert had always stuck to it in the past but this time he hadn’t been able to get what had happened out of his head. There was something wrong about it and he knew it. He’d have sworn that elf was under the Imperius curse. He’d seen it enough times before to recognise the signs. Besides which, no one had been able to come up with any reason why the house-elf would even want thirty or forty second-hand wands. Elves could bloody well do wandless magic, after all. But the Ministry officials insisted the tests were negative. In the aftermath of the War the Ministry had commissioned every Unspeakable it could lay its hands on to devise a test for the Imperius and eventually they’d come up with something generally reliable. When Bert heard the results, he stormed out and Apparated straight back on site. He’d ignored his colleagues’ warnings and gone in by the front door. There’d been a fight, of course. Bert had got hit badly and one of his fellow Aurors was still in St Mungo’s. All for nothing: they hadn’t got the evidence they needed and Mackenzie was still proclaiming his innocence and threatening to bring Bert in front of the Wizengamot for harassment. When Laura had shown him the document she’d nicked from the Ministry a light had flickered in Bert’s mind. He couldn’t quite work out what it was but there was something in there that had made a link in his head. He’d never heard of most of the objects listed and could only hazard guesses at their function by reading between the lines of the Ministry official-speak. He sighed and started again. Each object was listed by category - Cursed Objects, Abodements, Objects of Torture, Spyware and Other Restricted Objects. There were endless details of the paperwork required for the movement and sale of each item, the Ministry procedures to be followed by vendor and purchaser, the verification of legitimate reasons for purchase, the regulations required by the countries of origin. He threw the parchment on the floor in frustration and reached for the Firewhiskey. Empty, damn it. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relive those hideous ten days. ### It wasn’t a date, Ben insisted to himself. They were only going to watch a film together. He’d make that very clear from the start. And they wouldn’t even be able to talk while they were in the cinema. He hoped she wouldn’t expect to go for a drink afterwards. Without thinking about it, Ben pulled his favourite pale pink and white shirt out of the wardrobe. His mother had chosen it for him, last Christmas, from a Muggle catalogue the Grangers had shown her. They’d bought him a smart new suit as well which he was saving for his first day at work. He pushed his cufflinks through the buttonholes and checked that his shoes were clean. Running a comb through his hair, he grabbed wallet and keys and left the building, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘You’re late,’ announced Zoe, looking at him in frank appreciation. Automatically Ben checked his watch. ‘No, I’m not.’ She grinned. ‘Maybe I was early.’ ‘What are we going to see?’ asked Ben, feigning disinterest. ‘Something short?’ ‘Something fun. About pirates.’ She looked for a moment as though she was going to take his hand but thought better of it. He watched her as they queued. Her eyes were darting around the garish lobby, fascinated by everything. She was so alive, always. ‘You’ve been to the cinema before, haven’t you?’ he checked. Zoe nodded. ‘Not for years, though. Can we get popcorn?’ ‘I paid for the tickets. You can pay for the popcorn,’ said Ben with a straight face. She reached for her purse. ‘Hopeless. 43p. And a few Galleons.’ Ben laughed. ‘How appropriate. Go on then.’ He handed her a note and she skipped over to the counter, returning with two huge buckets. ‘Where’s mine?’ ‘Ha ha. Here,’ she held out her hand, ‘there’s some change.’ The film was surprisingly good but Ben found that he took more pleasure from watching Zoe’s outrageous responses to what she saw. She moved from hysterical laughter, to fear to tears and back again. At the end she turned to Ben with glowing eyes. ‘That was brilliant.’ ‘Glad you liked it. Shall we go?’ He indicated the exit and followed her along the row determinedly not looking at her curvy silhouette. Once they were outside the cinema, Ben turned to Zoe, intending to say goodnight. ‘Are you going to invite me back for a coffee?’ she asked, before he could speak. ‘No!’, he told her sternly, though he couldn’t stop his eyes responding to the laughter in hers. ‘I was going to say goodnight.’ ‘Oh.’ He hadn’t expected her to look so disappointed and, knowing he’d regret it, he relented. ‘You can come on one condition.’ The teasing look came back into her eye. ‘What?’ ‘Tell me how you got my phone number.’ She giggled. ‘For that, you should give me coffee and hold my hand.’ Ben looked as though he was about to bolt. ‘Don’t push your luck,’ he warned. ### Bert groaned and propped his head up with one hand. The other stretched across the table for the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey, grabbed, lost its grip and knocked the bottle to the floor. Bert swore and sat back in his chair. Then he did what he’d always done when he’d been in trouble. He went to find his twin. The flat was empty when Bert Apparated into the sitting room. He glanced round at the familiar space with its hideous striped wallpaper and second-hand furniture. The week’s newspapers were tidily folded into a pile by the fireplace waiting to be taken out. A picture of Bert waving happily from his broomstick stood at one end of the mantelpiece and another of the whole family occupied the space on the other side. The cream floral curtains hadn’t been pulled shut and the lights of the city cast moving shadows in the room. Bert wandered through to his twin’s bedroom, noting with interest that his brother had evidently changed before going out that evening. An open bottle of aftershave stood on the shelf in the bathroom. Ben was making some progress with his girl after all. Bert settled down to wait for their return with interest. ### Laura gripped Jack’s hand as tightly as she could and leaned in against his shoulder. He turned his head to glance down at her. ‘Afraid?’ he challenged, quirking his left eyebrow. She shivered deliciously and nodded. He laughed and squeezed her hand. ‘Not much longer.’ ‘Oh.’ Laura looked disappointed and Jack laughed again. She’d been amazed to finally get an owl from him two days earlier. He hadn’t apologised for not being in touch sooner, but he had said he’d been thinking about her. He’d arranged to pick her up on Friday at seven but had refused to tell Laura where he was taking her. Callie had said she should refuse to go if he didn’t tell her. How else would she know what to wear? Laura had shrugged and said she’d wear jeans and if he didn’t like it that was his problem. As it turned out, jeans and t-shirt were exactly the right thing to wear for a trip to a fun fair. Jack said his parents always used to bring them to the fair when he was a child and he’d thought Laura might enjoy the rides. She tried to look grown up and sophisticated and pretend like she’d much rather have gone to a posh restaurant. He merely raised his eyebrow and bought them both tickets for the Charmed Dodgems. She hadn’t bothered to disguise her delight after that and soon dared Jack to have a go at the ‘Test your Strength’ stand. He grinned at her, stripped off his jumper and grasped the mallet firmly. He swung it a couple of times experimentally then took aim for the target. The arrow shot up the marker but didn’t quite reach the bell at the top. ‘Two more goes,’ grunted the burly stallholder. Jack winked at Laura and took aim again. She slid behind him and whispered into his ear just as he brought the mallet down. He lost his aim and nearly knocked a hole through the stand. ‘Sorry! Sorry.’ He tried to apologise to the stallholder while shooting deadly glances at Laura. ‘Bloody hell, mate. I’m not letting you near that again.’ The man took the mallet out of Jack’s loose grip and glared at him. ‘But…’ ‘I’ll take the last go.’ Laura smiled sweetly at the red-faced trader. ‘I won’t break your stall, I promise.’ He grunted again, but handed her the mallet, warning her to take care. Laura gave Jack a cheeky grin, tested the weight of the mallet and took up her stance. She brought the heavy bat up to her shoulder then, with all her Beater’s skill and strength, whacked the target solidly in the centre and watched the arrow fly up setting off the bell and emitting a fairly feeble display of coloured sparks. Hands on hips, Laura smugly contemplated the two men who were looking at her, one in annoyance, the other with a measuring glance she knew boded trouble. She accepted her pink and yellow stuffed dragon with a giggle and took immense pleasure in giving it to Jack to carry for her. ‘If you’re up to it,’ she added with a sly glance. ‘Give me that!’ He swiped the toy from her hands and pointed towards the next ride. ‘Well?’ Laura’s gaze turned towards the black-painted stand, garishly adorned with luminous skeletons, monsters and ghosts. A sign, apparently painted in fresh blood, pronounced ‘Ghost Train’. Huge spiders-webs were draped all round the entrance which was designed to look like a large vampire mouth complete with blood-covered fangs. ‘Only if you hold my hand,’ Laura told Jack, taking the opportunity to enjoy his warm, firm grasp. The ride was about as tacky as Laura had anticipated. The carts were good though, a bit like the ones she’d gone in with her father when he’d shown her the family vault at Gringotts: fast, rickety and unpredictable. Round every corner some horror awaited them, beginning with the vision of Frankenstein’s monster and ending, now, with a re-creation of Voldemort’s return from the grave. Suddenly, Laura was really afraid. She thought about her father and the books she’d read about the War. She clutched at Jack’s sleeve and was reassured to feel his arm slip round her shoulder and hug her to his warm body. Laura closed her eyes and tried to stop her ears against the screams and wails. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘It’s stopped now. You can get out.’ Laura stood up shakily and let Jack help her out of the cart onto solid ground. He kept hold of her hand and looked down at her sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realise…’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not your fault. I don’t know what happened. It’s not like it was real.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Real enough for you. Look, do you want a doughnut or something? We could go and sit down for a bit.’ ### Zoe looked around in fascination as she entered Ben’s flat. It was cleaner and tidier than she’d expected but the hallway was wallpapered in an ugly pink floral pattern and the beige nylon carpet had certainly seen better days. It was the pictures that really caught her eye though. Cheaply framed but stunning photographs that captured the unusual, the elegant and the charming aspects of familiar London landmarks. She looked up for confirmation that Ben had taken them himself but the words dried on her lips before she could begin. Ben was gazing past her with a creeping blush that overcame his attempt at a poker face. Zoe swung round to see the object of his attention. ‘Bert!’ she whispered, trying not to let her disappointment show. Bert smiled wolfishly and moved forward to kiss her cheek. ‘Always a pleasure to see you, darling.’ She grimaced and tried to push him away without making it too obvious. It wasn’t Zoe’s reaction that Bert was interested in. ‘Well?’ he remarked, making the single word a challenge directed at his brother. ‘We just went to the cinema,’ responded Ben evenly. ‘Zoe wanted to see a film.’ ‘And you were only too happy to oblige, I see.’ Bert pushed close up to his brother, breathing alcohol fumes into his impassive face. Zoe looked from one to the other, taking the opportunity to compare like with like. They had identical peanut butter coloured skin with dark, silky hair. But Ben’s cheekbones were more pronounced, his dark eyes more almond-shaped, his mouth softer than his twin’s. Bert was a shade taller, a little wider across the shoulder and, just at that moment, much drunker. ‘I think I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Thanks for taking me tonight, Ben.’ She smiled at him and gave a brief nod to Bert before disappearing with a soft pop. Ben gave his brother a look of disgust and walked past him into the kitchen. ‘Are we going to have to fight about this?’ he asked over his shoulder. ‘Or can I just feed you more beer and let you sleep till tomorrow?’ ‘Did you meet her at Laura’s party?’ Bert had followed him and held out his hand for the can of lager Ben was offering. ‘The week before. Outside Diagon Alley.’ There was no point trying to hide anything now. ‘And you knew she was my girlfriend?’ He sat down heavily and drained the can. Ben shrugged. ‘I worked it out.’ ‘I should hit you,’ Bert decided. ‘If I weren’t so drunk, I would.’ ‘She said she broke up with you.’ Bert raised his head. ‘She did,’ he concurred after some thought. ‘Said she’d met someone else.’ ‘Ah.’ ‘Didn’t say it was you.’ Ben put the kettle on and found coffee and mugs. ‘Have you been drinking all night?’ Bert thought about this. ‘No.’ ‘Okay. Tomorrow you’re going to tell me what’s up with you. Now drink this.’ Ben put a mug of strong black coffee on the table. Bert took a sip and grimaced. ‘You like her.’ It wasn’t a question. Ben sighed and looked at the troubled face opposite him. ‘Yes.’ ‘Shouldn’t have gone out with her.’ Bert waggled a finger accusingly. ‘Knew she was my girlfriend.’ ‘I know.’ ‘I’m going to be sick.’ Ben came round the table and dragged his brother into the bathroom, watching him throw up again and again. He wiped Bert’s face with a cool damp cloth and made sure he didn’t hit his head when he slumped unconscious to the floor. Wishing he could simply wave a wand and lift the twelve and a half stone of Bert into the sitting room, Ben hoisted his brother’s inert form clumsily over his shoulder and deposited it with a certain amount of groaning onto the sofa. He found a blanket and a spare pillow and left a glass of water with some paracetemol on the coffee table. ### ‘Not a total disaster, then?’ Laura grinned and kissed him again. ‘Not quite. I’m sorry about the… thing.’ Jack nuzzled at the soft skin just beneath her ear. ‘It’s fine. What are you doing tomorrow?’ ‘Tomorrow?’ Laura couldn’t think what he meant. ‘Can I see you?’ His hands were resting on her hipbones, his thumbs tracing circles in the tender flesh just above. ‘See me? Um, yes, I, um…’ It was hard to get her words out between the soft kisses he was pressing on her lips. ‘Quidditch at two? Meet me down by the loch.’ He pulled away, giving her one final, brief kiss before Disapparating with a wink. Laura sighed and leaned back against the wall outside her parents’ house. She closed her eyes and hugged a hideous plush dragon to her chest. ### ‘Sorry,’ said Bert with a grimace. He tentatively raised the mug of coffee to his lips and tried a mouthful. Then he reached for the bacon sandwich and determinedly took a large bite. ‘That’s better. Thanks.’ ‘Idiot,’ replied Ben equably. ‘What happened?’ Bert groaned again. ‘You’ll have to know sometime, I suppose.’ Ben listened to his brother’s sorry tale with an unmoving expression, just occasionally interrupting with a question for clarification. At the end he nodded thoughtfully. ‘So you don’t actually know if there’ll be any repercussions?’ Bert shook his head. ‘They like to take their time at the Wizengamot. And there’s just a chance Mackenzie won’t want to risk any more enquiries into his business. ‘But you’re sure there’s something going on?’ Bert sighed. ‘I was sure. Now… who knows?’ ‘What are you going to do?’ Ben surveyed his twin who looked back helplessly. ‘Right. Tomorrow we’re going to go and see Uncle Harry.’ Bert looked astounded. They’d both long since absorbed the dictum that Uncle Harry was never to be asked about his childhood, the War, Lord Voldemort or Dark Magic. He didn’t want to talk about it and children should know better. As far as Bert and Ben were concerned Uncle Harry was the simply the amiable, but slightly shy, husband of Dad’s little sister. He’d play Quidditch with Bert and could ask Ben sensible questions about living among Muggles, but it was virtually impossible to think of him as the same person who’d defeated the most evil wizard in history. ‘More coffee?’ Ben offered the cafetiere to his brother, as if it was settled. ‘Please.’ Bert drank. ‘Sorry about last night.’ ‘You already said that.’ ‘No, I mean about Zoe.’ Ben frowned. ‘What about Zoe?’ ‘She’s a nice girl. You could do worse.’ Bert winked knowingly. Ben stared at his twin in amazement. ‘You mean you wouldn’t mind if… ?’ Bert shook his head. ‘Ow.’ He grimaced and closed his eyes. ‘Have you got any more of those pills?’
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