❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LVII. HARRY POTTER AND MARJORIE EVERMORE
━━━━━━
"And you're falling apart
But I think you're a work of art"
IT WAS HARD TO SAY whether Scrimgeour's visit had been a success or not. His departure had left a palpable tension in the room, his anger almost a physical presence as he stormed out. Harry, though, remained oddly indifferent. So, really, should they really care if Scrimgeour was offended or something? Not really. They barely know him.
That said, fortunately, the rest of the evening unfolded with a veneer of normalcy; Harry told them what Scrimgeour needed from him, which definitely drove some of them to anger, but Mrs. Weasley was fast to pacify them with Christmas cookies. The sweet, spiced aroma filled the air, mingling with the sounds of Christmas carols. Despite that, Harry still found his mind echoing at the thought of Scrimgeour's words, and each moment as he recall them, the more he grew angrier than before.
In the cozy, softly lit living room, the Weasley family and their guests were in the full festive swing. Everyone had gathered, their voices melding together in an enthusiastic chorus of Christmas carols. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley danced together in the center of the room, their movements synchronized with the joy and love that had always defined their relationship. Across the room, Harry sat in a corner with Ron, deeply absorbed in a game of chess. The clinking of chess pieces and the hum of the conversation around him did little to soothe the growing turbulence within him.
"Staring only confirms what you've been trying so hard to hide, you know,"
Startled, Marjorie whirled around from her position at the threshold of the kitchen. Her eyes met Anya's, who was leaning casually against the doorway, a glass of wine swirling in her hand. The dim glow of the Christmas lights from the living room cast a warm hue on Anya's face, highlighting the amusement in her eyes. Marjorie's cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed red, feeling like she had been caught in the act of some indiscreet behaviour.
"You did not see that," Marjorie retorted immediately, her voice sharp and edged with a mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness.
"Fortunately, I did," Anya replied with a hint of amusement in her tone, her lips curling into a teasing smile. She took a leisurely sip of her wine, savoring the rich, velvety taste. After all, it was Christmas—one of those rare occasions when indulgence was not just allowed but expected. "Don't you feel tired? Isn't this chase getting a bit ridiculous?"
"There is no chase," Marjorie insisted vehemently, her lips pressing into a thin, determined line. "It's merely an illusion of yours. And Percy's. And Ron and Hermione's. And Daphne's. And —"
