In the Melancholy Moonlight

Chapter XLIX: "Good Thing"

I returned the letter to its envelope and tucked it into the deepest pocket of my robes.

"You might as well stay here with me, Malachi," I said, stroking his feathers. "I'm taking you home tomorrow, after all. You know the way to my dormitory, yeah?"

He nipped my ear in reply and took off up the stairs. I took my seat next to Hermione.

"Thanks for the heads up on the purple," she muttered. "Grape is a lot better than the eggplant I usually get when I eat purple beans. How'd you know it was safe?"

I grinned. "It's a wolf thing," I whispered in reply.

She grinned back and jerked her chin at Lavender, who was squinting suspiciously at a red bean. "What's that one?"

"It's either chili pepper or tomato." I scratched at my nose to hide the fact that I inhaled sharply trying to tell which one she had grabbed. I giggled when I felt my nose begin to burn. "Oh no."

Surely enough, Lavender screamed as soon as she popped the bean in her mouth, prompting laughter from the whole common room. As the night went on, people headed up to their dormitories one by one until it was only Harry and I left... as tradition would have it at that point.

"The train ride here with the dementors seems like it was so long ago," he commented after a moment. "Bloody hell, what a year."

"I'll say," I replied softly.

What a year indeed. I had met another werewolf for the first time, and he had been amazing. I had learned the truth about the night I was bitten, and discovered my first family as well. I had realized my stupidly large crush on Harry, and allowed myself to hope from time to time that he might fancy me back one day. My patronus, the Quidditch Cup, the night with Sirius and Buckbeak. What a year indeed...

I glanced over at Harry. He was gazing into the fireplace with a sullen expression.

I'd taken the loss of Professor Lupin harder than anyone else, but Harry was a very close second in that regard. We'd spent a lot of time together on the Pitch, trying to stay busy, but in moments like these, everything from the year really sank in. The fights with Hermione, the horrible memories we'd been forced to live through again and again, the fact neither of us had gotten a proper Hogsmeade visit. It had been a great year, sure, but not a perfect one.

Eager to cheer him up, a sudden thought occurred to me. "Say, Harry, has Ron told you that the Quidditch World Cup is being hosted by Britain this summer?"

He blinked and sat up, turning to me excitedly. "Wait, really?"

I nodded. "First time in decades! Fred and George were telling me that Mr. Weasley usually gets tickets from work, and he's hoping to get enough for you and Hermione, too!"

"That... wow, that would be excellent! I'd love to go! Have you ever been to a World Cup? What's it like? Who's playing in it this year?"

"I've never been, I don't know, and we don't know yet," I said with a laugh. "The Daily Prophet is good about tracking the teams, though, so I'll write you a message every day with updates. Scores, injuries, notable plays, rising players, statistics."

"That would be great! I don't think the Dursleys would be terribly thrilled if I asked them if they had Quidditch updates for me in Muggle newspapers."

I giggled. "I'd imagine not." I sighed. "On a serious note, my offer from last year still holds. If you need me to come get you, just let me know. I'll drop everything and grab the nearest dragon and fly to your rescue."

He grinned. "I'd love to see it. You know, I was actually thinking I should tell them Sirius is my godfather. I can't imagine they'd dare to mistreat me if the threat of his wrath hung over their heads."