Jonquils And Lightning

The Sound of Trumpets

"Harry? Can I talk to you?"

Jonquil's voice was as tense as a tightrope strung between towers. Harry turned away from the book spread out on his lap and swallowed the last of his cheese-and-pickle sandwich. "Sure, Jonquil. Come in."

His cousin walked in and sat down on the chair in front of his desk, her whole body so tight that Harry winced watching her. But he had to wait her for to begin, because he had no idea what angle she would come at this from.

When she finally spoke, her voice quivered. "Tom wants you and not me, doesn't he?"

Oh, Jonquil. Harry would have got up and gone over to her if he thought it would help. But as it was, he stayed still for a second, and then nodded. "He does. But that's because he's a fool."

"He's intelligent." Jonquil rubbed her eyes with her elbow for a second. "He knows what he wants. You can't blame him for that."

Harry shook his head. "But I'm never going to want him back. I have no reason to leave this world. I won't go with him to fight a war, either, since I've given up on wars. If he still thinks that he can somehow force me to go along with him, or seduce me, then he's not nearly as intelligent as you think he is."

Jonquil didn't immediately respond, keeping her head down. Then she whispered, "But he doesn't want me, either."

"No. I think the most likely conclusion is that he'll give up on trying to get something from us eventually and leave, once he realizes that he doesn't have the time to waste if he's serious about changing his world."

Jonquil said nothing, although from the corners of her face and the way they moved, Harry could tell she was frowning. Then she murmured, "What if I said that I would go with him, and not require him to be my lover or boyfriend or anything like that? Just be my friend?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. Before he saw into Tom's soul, he wouldn't have believed him capable of friendship, but he knew better than that now. "Well, I think friendship is a rare thing for him, so it still might take more persuasion than it would for most people. But you could try."

Jonquil nodded slowly. Then she glanced at him. "I have to know one thing."

"Oh?"

"How can you not want him?"

Harry softened his smile as best as he could, reminding himself that Jonquil was still young, and she hadn't been through a tenth of what he had. And he never wanted her to go through it, either. "Handsome faces don't do much for me anymore, Jonquil. Some of the people who fought with me and tried to murder me were pretty enough to attract attention. And his pushiness doesn't recommend him."

Jonquil nodded again, although from the polite expression on her face, she was still baffled. "Thanks, Harry."

"I only did as much as I can," Harry said, waved off her thanks, and watched as she departed the room. Then he turned back to the book. He was thinking of becoming a human Healer in a few years, and for that, he needed to know more about anatomy than he currently did.

Which is nothing outside of what some people's bones look like when they take a Blasting Curse to the chest.

"Harry. I'd like to speak to you."

Harry blinked, feeling as baffled as Jonquil had looked. He couldn't remember a time when Dorea had come up to his room. "Of course," he said slowly, and pushed the book under a fold of the covers. "Is Jonquil all right?" That would be the only thing he could imagine bringing Dorea here.