The Choices We Make ∆ Harry Potter Sister

Chapter 5.5

Sauntering to the lonely corner where a young man stood in solitary with the company of a cup of firewhiskey, his dark eyes hidden and his head tilted side ways as he soaked in the love songs playing on the turn table. The soft thumps coming from a pair of sneakers against the wooden floor caused him to peered against his eyelids, a lazy smile graced his face, but It soon flattened as he sensed the troubling storm inside the petite frame of the girl donned in her ivy green lace dress. Her face was as calm as the sea on a sunny day, yet he could feel the thunder within her.

"Can you take me to the shop?" she asked him once she was close enough. Lowering his cup, he tucked her hair behind her ear, his eyebrows knitted together. "Are you alright?"

Instead of answering the question, Ellie eyed the cup held loosely in his hand. "Is that firewhiskey?"

Before he could answer, she had snatched it out of his hands, her fingers brushed his momentarily. She knocked it back, draining the entire drink out of the half filled cup in a single swig. As the amber coloured liquid burned the back of her throat, her face contorted into a grimace, and she handed the now empty cup back to him. "I am now. Please?"

With his lips pressed into a thin line, Xenyk lifted the cup to his chest and let it out of his grip. As if the law of gravity did not apply to the cup, it did not fall to the ground. It did not defy the law either, as it did not float upwards against gravity. Instead, it resisted gravity, remaining afloat in front of his chest until he snapped his fingers together lightly, and the cup disappeared from sight only to reappear on the sink in the kitchen. He offered a hand which the young Potter gladly took, led them outside of the house as discreet as humanly possible, and disapparated straight to the front door of a tall building with purple bricks, a statue of a ginger man decorated its front, the statue's hair colour contrasting to the bricks of the building. He pulled his wand out of the side pocket of his slacks, tapped the door handle with the tip of the yew, and the door creaked open.

The second the air stepped into the shop, they were met with complete, total, darkness. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Out of all the things the twins had sold, she admitted it was one of her favourite. With a swish of her wand, the darkness around them grew brighter and brighter within seconds, until it was too blinding to look at, before it exploded into multicoloured confetti that rained down on them, leaving trails of glitter in the air. A low whistle brought her attention to the bottom of the stair, where two identical young man stood with their wands in front of their chests defensively. They lowered their wands as they made their way to the intruders of their shop.

"That trick is definitely going to be added to your section," said the older twin, his eyes trained on the trail of glitters in the air, but Ellie paid no mind to him, as her focus was on the younger twin, him and him only.

"Let's see vot I can do for that," offered Xenyk as he made his way to the back of the shop he had been working in for the past year, quickly followed by Fred whom was more than glad to not get caught in crossfire.

Ellie was left alone with the younger twin, whom was waving his wand above his head, keeping the trails of glitter and the remaining of the multicoloured confetti afloat. He walked towards her with an arm in front of him. "Dance with me."

She had never danced so much in her lifetime before, not even at the Yule Ball, but took his arm nonetheless. The colours spluttered all over the shop make up for its lack of music, and she let him led her through every step.

"You look just as beautiful as you were at the Yule Ball, if not more," he complimented her sincerely as he recognised the dress she was wearing was the very same dress she wore as his date to the Yule Ball. Ellie let her lips curved into a thin smile despite the pang in the bottom of her heart. The dance she shared with George felt different to the one she shared with the dark eyed lad. Even if she was waltzing in a sitting room with Louis Armstrong's La Vie en Rose playing in the background and George was donned in rolled up white cotton shirt paired with black slacks, she knew in her heart that it would still feel different. She close the arm-length gap between them, intertwining her hands at the nape of his neck as best as she could, given their height difference, and rested her head over his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling her own heart beat to it in sync. She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe if she could not see the world around her, none of it would be real. Of course, she knew it was foolish. She was only pushing back what needed to be done. She would break that steady beating heart into more pieces than she could ever count, in more ways than she could ever fix. She did not want to, but the words left by her godfather was so surreal she would have believed he was saying them right next to her. She did not want George, the very same George who had always held her whenever she felt like her shoulders were heavy with the weight of the world, to think that she was cruel. Nevertheless, cruel was what she was lest she poured her heart to him.