HP: What She Lost (Susan, Hannah/Megan, PG-13)
Title: What She Lost
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Susan Bones, Hannah/Megan
Rating: PG-13 (one swear word)
Word Count: 1930
Summary: This is for frock! I'm sure I'd never write half the things I do if it wasn't for her requests. This is set in sixth year, but Hannah's still around, so it's pretty much AU. And although it was supposed to be Hannah/Megan, the focus actually ended up on Susan. (What's new?)
That evening Susan is still shaking, her fingers creeping down to press against her thigh, convinced she’ll feel a line, a gap, a scar.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Hannah snaps suddenly, “will you stop twitching?”
The noise level drops very slightly. Megan, curled up on the rug next to the fire, looks up from her book, and Ernie seems unaware that Justin’s knight has his pawn in a headlock. Susan gives Hannah an offended look but presses her hands tightly together all the same. She still feels not-quite-there, as if she left something behind in the Great Hall. The feeling intensifies, a wave of pressure building inside her, and then suddenly she cannot stand it any longer and jumps up, knocking into a couple of first years as she leaves the common room.
But just as she is halfway out of the door she hears Hannah’s voice again, cutting through the chatter like a knife. “Anyone would think she Splinched her head.”
Susan twists slightly, but then she hears Megan’s giggle and doesn’t look back.
Maybe she did Splinch her head, she thinks, sliding her hand along the wide mahogany banister rail of the main staircase. Or something in her brain. Maybe there are tiny Susan-cells scattered on the floor that the professors failed to notice. Maybe maybe maybe she’s just paranoid.
It’s strange, being in the castle at this hour: not quite curfew but still late enough for no one to be around. She pushes hard against one of the doors to the Great Hall and stiffly, slowly, it opens.
She slips inside and gazes up at the ceiling for a moment. The moon is half-hidden behind a cloud, glazing the edges of everything a bright shining silver. Orion is the first constellation that separates itself from the muddle of stars, and then, as if this were Astronomy class, she can work out Canis Major, Orion’s biggest hunting dog, and Lepus, the rabbit they chase. She shivers slightly, and makes her way between two of the tables, up to the front of the room. The Great Hall seems smaller with the tables back in it, and she’s momentarily disorientated. Was I here, or there? She gets down on her hands and knees, though she knows she is being ridiculous, and sweeps her hands over the floor like a blind person. Only smooth tiles and dust beneath her fingertips.
Susan curls up against the bench and closes her eyes. Her leg tingles, as it has been doing all afternoon since she Splinched and was put back together again. She rubs it tiredly, but wonders if the human body is the same as a pot: drop it and Reparo it enough times, and soon it’ll start to break along the exact same fracture lines every time. Maybe Splinching once means she’s more likely to do it again the next time. Maybe her leg will always be loose, like a wobbly table leg. Maybe maybe maybe it’s time for bed, she thinks, and stands up.
A prefect sees her on her way back to the Hufflepuff dormitories. He checks his watch, but it is still five minutes to, and Susan is safe. He frowns anyway and says, “Get back to your common room.”
Susan stops and gives him the most withering look she can muster. Where do you think I’m going, idiot? But she doesn’t say it out loud. The seconds tick on and she becomes aware that he is probably in the year below her; she is taller anyway, tall and skinny and prone to losing legs.
Then, just as she thinks he is about to snap and break the silence, she hears footsteps; his partner comes round the corner and, as he turns, Susan slips away.
She pushes her way through the common room without looking for anyone, intent on getting to her dorm, but Hannah and Megan are already there, curled up together on Hannah’s bed and talking quietly. They stop abruptly when Susan walks in. Megan drops her head guiltily, but Hannah looks straight at Susan. She returns the stare, feeling quite cold and angry, and draws the curtains around her four-poster, remembering a time when it was all three of them sat together and gossiping, not knowing where one person’s legs ended and another’s began.
Susan lies awake for a while, listening for whispers or laughter, but Hannah and Megan are quiet. She imagines them writing notes, or maybe even communicating by a complex system of looks and raised eyebrows. When she falls asleep she dreams that she is walking in the rain, but her shoes get stuck in the mud, and when she tries to pull free her leg comes off.
As if by some mutual, silent agreement, their friendship splits up. Hannah and Megan pair up in Herbology now, and Ernie, ever the peacemaker, joins Susan in her pruning of the vicious bushes Professor Sprout has brought out today. He talks about the weather and about how Pride of Portree, his local team, is doing in the Quidditch league. Susan only has to smile and nod and pretend she is listening. After all, when one is in danger of being throttled by a vine, one is understandably a little distracted.
“They think you’re being a drama queen,” Ernie informs her a couple of days later.
“Excuse me?” Susan says icily, but Ernie ploughs on, missing the tone in her voice, or perhaps hearing it and wanting to patch things up regardless.
“Hannah said you were completely overreacting to the whole Splinching-yourself thing, and it’s not as if you’re the first person to do it anyway.” Ernie pauses, then adds, “But you were the first person to get anywhere, you know. Could you give me some advice? If I could just know more about how it feels, I’m sure I’d be able to Apparate next time.”
Susan says something she has never said before in her life, and is vaguely surprised at how easily it rolls off the tongue. “Fuck off.”
“Miss Bones!”
She turns to see Slughorn hastening down the corridor towards her, waving a scroll of parchment tied up with a red ribbon. He pulls out his handkerchief and mops at his forehead while Susan unfurls the scroll with a hint of trepidation. You are cordially invited to... To another Slug Club meeting, she thinks wearily.
“I know you missed my Christmas bash, but I hope you’ll be able to make it to this one,” he says, fixing her with a firm look. Susan has evaded all of his gatherings so far. Amelia died eight months ago and she still has moments where she aches with loss. The thought of joining the Slug Club purely because of her family’s success disgusts her. And yet -
“Are Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones invited?” she asks.
“Jones? Any relation to Gwenog Jones - captain of the Holyhead Harpies, of course?” Slughorn looks excited, if slightly peeved that he might have missed a potential Slug Club candidate.
“No,” Susan replies coldly. “Just the common-as-muck sort of Jones.”
As it turns out, neither of them is on the guest list. She didn’t expect them to be - they have never been invited before - but now she knows for certain, she thinks she rather fancies going. She remembers turning down previous invitations and venting to Hannah and Megan about it. They looked sympathetic at first, but then Hannah remarked a little wistfully, “They do sound fun, though.” After that, Susan stopped mentioning it. She got a little vindictive thrill of pleasure when Slughorn once called Hannah “Miss Adams”.
The party - although it is more of an informal get-together, Slughorn assures them - is not as bad as she thought it would be. There is a certain arrogance to a lot of the people here: Cormac McLaggen loudly boasts about all the famous people he has met, and from the corner Melinda Bobbin smirks and watches everything with a knowing expression. But although they are not exactly nice, there is a sense of camaraderie between them all.
Just when Susan thinks she is beginning to enjoy herself, McLaggen turns to her and drawls, “I met your aunt too, you know.”
Susan freezes. “Yes?” she says cautiously. She doesn’t know how else to respond. Whenever someone brings up her aunt she wants to run away, but suddenly, clear as daylight, she hears Amelia’s voice in her head.
You’ve made your bed, my girl. Now you must lie in it.
“Amazing how she became Head of the Department, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Susan scans his face, but she can’t tell if he’s deliberately being insulting.
“Oh yes.” Cormac nods, lounging back in his seat like a prince. “I never would have thought a woman would rise to such a high position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But she was a -”
Susan never finds out what else he thought her aunt was. Before she realises just quite what she is doing, she has chucked her drink in his face. She calmly places her empty glass on the side and walks out of the room with everyone’s eyes on her.
She wonders where that little voice came from. Amelia never accepted her fate passively, and would have been horrified to think of her niece doing so. Susan stops at the nearest window, leans out, and says, “That was for you.” She doesn’t believe in a heaven exactly, but it feels right to talk to the sky instead of the wall or the floor or empty space. She wants to go and talk to Hannah and Megan about all this, but then she remembers that she isn’t talking to them at all.
And then she realises that if she can chuck butterbeer in Cormac McLaggen’s face, she can almost certainly patch up a friendship.
She hesitates at the door to their dormitory, then presses her ear against the wood. She doesn’t even know if they are inside. She hears soft murmurs, and wonders for a moment if one of the girls is in there with a boy. Megan’s unmistakable giggle filters through the door, and then Hannah’s voice, she’s certain of it. Susan pushes the door open decisively.
Her two best friends are sprawled out on Megan’s bed, lying on their sides and facing each other. Hannah is resting her head on her hand, looking at Megan with an expression Susan doesn’t think she’s ever seen on her face before. They don’t seem to have noticed her entrance, or possibly they’re just ignoring her.
Susan has the strangest feeling that she’s stepped into a very personal scene.
“I thought you were going to a Slug Club meeting,” Hannah says, when eventually she deigns to look up. (Because of course Susan had made sure Hannah and Megan were around to overhear when she told Ernie.)
“I changed my mind.” Susan pulls at the ends of her sleeves. “I suppose - I wanted to apologise. For everything, really.”
“Okay,” Hannah says, and Megan rolls over then, so that Susan can see her face: flushed and doe-eyed. She smiles at Susan, who can only stare back at her.
“Right,” Susan says after a while, when it is clear she’s not going to get an apology from either of them. “I - I’ll just be off, then.” Hannah smiles briefly, then tugs Megan back to face her. She brushes a strand of hair out of Megan’s face, her eyes seeming to soften at the corners, and Susan realises that neither of them are sorry.
She doesn’t blame them.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Susan Bones, Hannah/Megan
Rating: PG-13 (one swear word)
Word Count: 1930
Summary: This is for frock! I'm sure I'd never write half the things I do if it wasn't for her requests. This is set in sixth year, but Hannah's still around, so it's pretty much AU. And although it was supposed to be Hannah/Megan, the focus actually ended up on Susan. (What's new?)
That evening Susan is still shaking, her fingers creeping down to press against her thigh, convinced she’ll feel a line, a gap, a scar.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Hannah snaps suddenly, “will you stop twitching?”
The noise level drops very slightly. Megan, curled up on the rug next to the fire, looks up from her book, and Ernie seems unaware that Justin’s knight has his pawn in a headlock. Susan gives Hannah an offended look but presses her hands tightly together all the same. She still feels not-quite-there, as if she left something behind in the Great Hall. The feeling intensifies, a wave of pressure building inside her, and then suddenly she cannot stand it any longer and jumps up, knocking into a couple of first years as she leaves the common room.
But just as she is halfway out of the door she hears Hannah’s voice again, cutting through the chatter like a knife. “Anyone would think she Splinched her head.”
Susan twists slightly, but then she hears Megan’s giggle and doesn’t look back.
Maybe she did Splinch her head, she thinks, sliding her hand along the wide mahogany banister rail of the main staircase. Or something in her brain. Maybe there are tiny Susan-cells scattered on the floor that the professors failed to notice. Maybe maybe maybe she’s just paranoid.
It’s strange, being in the castle at this hour: not quite curfew but still late enough for no one to be around. She pushes hard against one of the doors to the Great Hall and stiffly, slowly, it opens.
She slips inside and gazes up at the ceiling for a moment. The moon is half-hidden behind a cloud, glazing the edges of everything a bright shining silver. Orion is the first constellation that separates itself from the muddle of stars, and then, as if this were Astronomy class, she can work out Canis Major, Orion’s biggest hunting dog, and Lepus, the rabbit they chase. She shivers slightly, and makes her way between two of the tables, up to the front of the room. The Great Hall seems smaller with the tables back in it, and she’s momentarily disorientated. Was I here, or there? She gets down on her hands and knees, though she knows she is being ridiculous, and sweeps her hands over the floor like a blind person. Only smooth tiles and dust beneath her fingertips.
Susan curls up against the bench and closes her eyes. Her leg tingles, as it has been doing all afternoon since she Splinched and was put back together again. She rubs it tiredly, but wonders if the human body is the same as a pot: drop it and Reparo it enough times, and soon it’ll start to break along the exact same fracture lines every time. Maybe Splinching once means she’s more likely to do it again the next time. Maybe her leg will always be loose, like a wobbly table leg. Maybe maybe maybe it’s time for bed, she thinks, and stands up.
A prefect sees her on her way back to the Hufflepuff dormitories. He checks his watch, but it is still five minutes to, and Susan is safe. He frowns anyway and says, “Get back to your common room.”
Susan stops and gives him the most withering look she can muster. Where do you think I’m going, idiot? But she doesn’t say it out loud. The seconds tick on and she becomes aware that he is probably in the year below her; she is taller anyway, tall and skinny and prone to losing legs.
Then, just as she thinks he is about to snap and break the silence, she hears footsteps; his partner comes round the corner and, as he turns, Susan slips away.
She pushes her way through the common room without looking for anyone, intent on getting to her dorm, but Hannah and Megan are already there, curled up together on Hannah’s bed and talking quietly. They stop abruptly when Susan walks in. Megan drops her head guiltily, but Hannah looks straight at Susan. She returns the stare, feeling quite cold and angry, and draws the curtains around her four-poster, remembering a time when it was all three of them sat together and gossiping, not knowing where one person’s legs ended and another’s began.
Susan lies awake for a while, listening for whispers or laughter, but Hannah and Megan are quiet. She imagines them writing notes, or maybe even communicating by a complex system of looks and raised eyebrows. When she falls asleep she dreams that she is walking in the rain, but her shoes get stuck in the mud, and when she tries to pull free her leg comes off.
As if by some mutual, silent agreement, their friendship splits up. Hannah and Megan pair up in Herbology now, and Ernie, ever the peacemaker, joins Susan in her pruning of the vicious bushes Professor Sprout has brought out today. He talks about the weather and about how Pride of Portree, his local team, is doing in the Quidditch league. Susan only has to smile and nod and pretend she is listening. After all, when one is in danger of being throttled by a vine, one is understandably a little distracted.
“They think you’re being a drama queen,” Ernie informs her a couple of days later.
“Excuse me?” Susan says icily, but Ernie ploughs on, missing the tone in her voice, or perhaps hearing it and wanting to patch things up regardless.
“Hannah said you were completely overreacting to the whole Splinching-yourself thing, and it’s not as if you’re the first person to do it anyway.” Ernie pauses, then adds, “But you were the first person to get anywhere, you know. Could you give me some advice? If I could just know more about how it feels, I’m sure I’d be able to Apparate next time.”
Susan says something she has never said before in her life, and is vaguely surprised at how easily it rolls off the tongue. “Fuck off.”
“Miss Bones!”
She turns to see Slughorn hastening down the corridor towards her, waving a scroll of parchment tied up with a red ribbon. He pulls out his handkerchief and mops at his forehead while Susan unfurls the scroll with a hint of trepidation. You are cordially invited to... To another Slug Club meeting, she thinks wearily.
“I know you missed my Christmas bash, but I hope you’ll be able to make it to this one,” he says, fixing her with a firm look. Susan has evaded all of his gatherings so far. Amelia died eight months ago and she still has moments where she aches with loss. The thought of joining the Slug Club purely because of her family’s success disgusts her. And yet -
“Are Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones invited?” she asks.
“Jones? Any relation to Gwenog Jones - captain of the Holyhead Harpies, of course?” Slughorn looks excited, if slightly peeved that he might have missed a potential Slug Club candidate.
“No,” Susan replies coldly. “Just the common-as-muck sort of Jones.”
As it turns out, neither of them is on the guest list. She didn’t expect them to be - they have never been invited before - but now she knows for certain, she thinks she rather fancies going. She remembers turning down previous invitations and venting to Hannah and Megan about it. They looked sympathetic at first, but then Hannah remarked a little wistfully, “They do sound fun, though.” After that, Susan stopped mentioning it. She got a little vindictive thrill of pleasure when Slughorn once called Hannah “Miss Adams”.
The party - although it is more of an informal get-together, Slughorn assures them - is not as bad as she thought it would be. There is a certain arrogance to a lot of the people here: Cormac McLaggen loudly boasts about all the famous people he has met, and from the corner Melinda Bobbin smirks and watches everything with a knowing expression. But although they are not exactly nice, there is a sense of camaraderie between them all.
Just when Susan thinks she is beginning to enjoy herself, McLaggen turns to her and drawls, “I met your aunt too, you know.”
Susan freezes. “Yes?” she says cautiously. She doesn’t know how else to respond. Whenever someone brings up her aunt she wants to run away, but suddenly, clear as daylight, she hears Amelia’s voice in her head.
You’ve made your bed, my girl. Now you must lie in it.
“Amazing how she became Head of the Department, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Susan scans his face, but she can’t tell if he’s deliberately being insulting.
“Oh yes.” Cormac nods, lounging back in his seat like a prince. “I never would have thought a woman would rise to such a high position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But she was a -”
Susan never finds out what else he thought her aunt was. Before she realises just quite what she is doing, she has chucked her drink in his face. She calmly places her empty glass on the side and walks out of the room with everyone’s eyes on her.
She wonders where that little voice came from. Amelia never accepted her fate passively, and would have been horrified to think of her niece doing so. Susan stops at the nearest window, leans out, and says, “That was for you.” She doesn’t believe in a heaven exactly, but it feels right to talk to the sky instead of the wall or the floor or empty space. She wants to go and talk to Hannah and Megan about all this, but then she remembers that she isn’t talking to them at all.
And then she realises that if she can chuck butterbeer in Cormac McLaggen’s face, she can almost certainly patch up a friendship.
She hesitates at the door to their dormitory, then presses her ear against the wood. She doesn’t even know if they are inside. She hears soft murmurs, and wonders for a moment if one of the girls is in there with a boy. Megan’s unmistakable giggle filters through the door, and then Hannah’s voice, she’s certain of it. Susan pushes the door open decisively.
Her two best friends are sprawled out on Megan’s bed, lying on their sides and facing each other. Hannah is resting her head on her hand, looking at Megan with an expression Susan doesn’t think she’s ever seen on her face before. They don’t seem to have noticed her entrance, or possibly they’re just ignoring her.
Susan has the strangest feeling that she’s stepped into a very personal scene.
“I thought you were going to a Slug Club meeting,” Hannah says, when eventually she deigns to look up. (Because of course Susan had made sure Hannah and Megan were around to overhear when she told Ernie.)
“I changed my mind.” Susan pulls at the ends of her sleeves. “I suppose - I wanted to apologise. For everything, really.”
“Okay,” Hannah says, and Megan rolls over then, so that Susan can see her face: flushed and doe-eyed. She smiles at Susan, who can only stare back at her.
“Right,” Susan says after a while, when it is clear she’s not going to get an apology from either of them. “I - I’ll just be off, then.” Hannah smiles briefly, then tugs Megan back to face her. She brushes a strand of hair out of Megan’s face, her eyes seeming to soften at the corners, and Susan realises that neither of them are sorry.
She doesn’t blame them.