A/N: Just want to say THANK YOU!! to those who reviewed the last installment. I appreciate it very much! And this is a looong chapter, where you meet the woman from the Prologue. I'd very much appreciate any comments y'all can leave. Next chapter it will be some Harry/Hermione quality time. Enjoy and thanks again.
Chapter Six - Masquerade
Wrapped in a plush, expensive terry bathrobe, the woman sat gazing out the third storey window of her Inverness flat,
while she sipped from the large ceramic mug in her hands. She swallowed slowly, consciously tracking the progress of
the warm liquid as it traveled into her stomach and diffused its heat through her being.
Licking her shapely red lips, she smiled lazily. It was amazing the differences in the drinking habits of British and American people. Everybody knew 'tea' was practically synonymous with 'British' and the sheer number of "Tea Times" was enough to boggle the mind. High tea, Low tea, Evening tea - no time was the wrong time for tea if you were in Britain.
Americans, on the other hand, had been primarily coffee people ever since the colonists told King George to take his tea and his taxes and shove them where the sun didn't shine. Though not in so many words, of course. She felt a pride about that which went beyond mere patriotism. The New England blueblood that flowed in her veins could be traced back to a prominent participant in the initial stirrings of the Revolutionary War.
She'd been spending the majority of her time in this country for quite a while now and she really wasn't a tea person so-
'Thank goodness for Starbucks, that's all,' she thought, taking another sip of her Cappuccino.
Setting the mug down, she stood up to her full 5'10" and stretched languorously. All her muscles ached in that pleasurable way that they always did after an energetic and satisfying round of sex. Her lover had just left; Jack was his name. Twenty-two year old University student, tall, dark and handsome.
It was his hands that had caught her eye first when he'd handed her the mug of black coffee on her first visit to the local Starbucks a year ago. They'd struck up a conversation and less that a week later, were in bed together. She'd laid out the rules of the arrangement right from the get-go. This was not a relationship; it was even less than a fling and he had no claim to her. Besides, she was only down here a few times a year. She found that it was very handy to have a boy-toy in every city she had to visit on a regular basis and Jack was merely the one for down here.
The sooner he learned that, the better and she made a concerted effort to be disinterested in his life outside her bed.
For instance, she knew he was in college but she hadn't the faintest clue what he was studying and no inclination to find out. His body was what she wanted, no pillow talk attached. That might sound cold but hey, he seemed to like the arrangement too. Weren't most young men of that age in near-constant arousal but not wanting any sort of commitment?
It was a win-win situation - she got her needs met while in Inverness and he, in addition to the needs thing as well, doubtless received an ego-boosting. He was, after all, involved with as sensuous a Mrs. Robinson as she was.
Not that he knew her real age or anything.
She reached up to unwound the towel that was wrapped around her wet hair and laid it over the back of the chair. Now that Jack was gone, she could charm her hair dry instead of doing it the Muggle way. She tended to go for Muggle men, for some reason. Maybe it was the knowing that she was something more than they thought she was that gave her such a thrill of power.
She walked over to the obsessively neat coffee table and spotted her wand poking out from where it'd been hastily hidden. Reaching for it, her eyes landed on the scroll of parchment that had been the initiator of this afternoon's whole sequence of events. Reading it had filled her with such rage. Who the hell did they think they were anyway, messing with her perfectly structured life? Had they any idea how hard she'd worked to get everything, even her future, arranged just so? And by merely sending her that piece of tree pulp they'd effected numerous little cracks in the painstakingly constructed masterpiece that was her life.
Instead of doing something drastic and destructive, she'd rung Jack and he'd played hooky from work to come over, bearing a large container of Starbucks product as usual. She'd channeled the anger and fear she felt about the letter into the kind of violent copulation that requires a good nap to recover from. The nap had been good for her and she and Jack had hit the showers, had much gentler sex and then he'd had to leave.
Which was just as well. She needed to think.
Ignoring her hair for the time being, the woman sat back down and picked up the letter, holding it up to the light of the early afternoon. It was from some kind of probate lawyer, informing her that there was in fact another heir to the family fortune. Apparently, this other person had no idea that she had inherited a nice sum of money because the lawyer couldn't find her.
"And there's no reason for that to change," she said, smoothing out the parchment. "What this Margaret Montgomery Lovejoy doesn't know can't possibly hurt her."
One thing was for certain, if the length of the name was any indication, this Margaret was definitely her cousin. Her family had a knack for long-winded names and hers wasn't any exception.
She smiled to herself as she traced the letters of her name in the addressing of the letter - Cristella Montgomery. When she was much younger, she had hated her first name. Everybody but her mother called her 'Stella', anyway.
She'd made the mistake once of interrupting her mother during one of her martini 'therapy' sessions to complain about it. "Why couldn't you have just named me that? Just 'Stella'?"
"If I'd wanted to give you such a whorish name, I would have," her mother had spat waspishly, the martini glass wobbling in her hand. "Though that does seem to be all you're shaping up to be. Now get out of my sight!"
She was eleven years old that day.
And although one would never know it from their later relationship, once upon a time, Cristella and her mother had been as close as a mother and daughter could possibly be. Though now when she thought about it, her mother had always treated her more like a pampered poodle than a child. An extravagant accessory. This was made much easier by the fact that Cristella had been the kind of cherubic, photogenic child that caused perfect strangers to stop on the street to ooh and ahh over her. And if there was one thing that Cookie Montgomery - her mother - loved, it was attention and that was what Cristella brought even more of.
Until she'd made the mistake of growing up, of developing breasts, of getting taller and shapelier than her mother. Until her mother's many male friends began pretending to listen to the older one while their eyes lingered on the younger.
And with the speed of a runaway train, just like that the idyllic relationship was gone. Cristella had been understandably hurt and confused by the drastic change in her mother's attitude towards her but with a childlike hope, she'd held onto the belief that things could go back to normal.
"And what are you crying for now?" the adult Cristella asked herself in the otherwise empty living room in Inverness. "It's all in the past. Get over it! You've moved on and conquered that old bag anyway!"
But the tears kept coming; the memory of the next major event was still painful enough to crash through her carefully constructed walls, even now. Because was there anything more agonizing than the premature death of your childhood and all that that represented? The innocence, the joy? The hope?
The annual Christmas Eve party was in full swing in venerable old Montgomery Mansion. Outside, all the world was
white and the snow was still gently wafting down, obscuring all her favorite Cape Cod landmarks. Inside, however, it
was deliciously warm - enough for Cristella to wear the new strapless black gown that her mother had bought her.
Her chestnut hair was arranged in cascading ringlets that framed her face and her mother had let her put on a little eyeshadow that brought out her blue eyes nicely. Her well-defined features, a proud nose and shapely lips - tinted with the faintest smidge of lipstick, just for tonight - culminated in an attractive jawline. At her throat, she was wearing a sapphire choker that had been in her family for generations.
In short, Cristella looked grand and she knew it. She looked and felt much older than her twelve years.
All around her, people were milling around the large lavishly decorated ballroom that she knew had taken the house-elves weeks to beautify. She thought they'd done a good job; not that she would ever tell them that. Why express gratitude for something that was supposed to be done anyway? And besides, she couldn't stand being near them. They all looked so creepy, all bulbous eyes and floppy ears.
The twelve-piece orchestra (that was ridiculously overpriced, she'd heard her mother griping) set up on the platform overlooking the room was playing a slow waltz that had her itching to get on the floor with the other couples.
Smiling to herself, she tried to imagine someone asking her. "Oh, thank you, Tom Cruise. I would love to dance with you!" Nah, Tom Cruise was much too old. And besides, he was a Muggle. Hmm.. ah! "Yes, you may have this dance, Harry Potter. And thank you for the compliment! I think your eyes are gorgeous too."
Harry Potter was ridiculously famous and all the girls at her school had huge, unattainable crushes on him. Who better to dance with, to incur all their collective envies?
"May I have this dance?" somebody asked right behind her and illogically the thought that Harry Potter had magically materialized to ask her actually flitted through her mind. Upon spinning around, however, her eyes widened at the sight of John Macy, her mother's latest boyfriend, smiling down at her.
And you thought this was Harry Potter? Please. He's two years younger than you are, anyway and what would he be doing in Cape Cod to begin with?
Besides, the look of open admiration in John's eyes was incredibly thrilling and she set down her tumbler of cranberry juice and let him lead her to the floor. The waltz had turned faster and she felt so grown-up being twirled and rocked across the room. She felt like she would never stop smiling again and when the song ended, quite a few people cheered them.
"Whew! Was that something or what?" John said with a laugh. "You're truly nifty on your feet. But now I'm parched. Would you like a drink?"
Cristella was still too delirious by what had just happened to articulate a reply. "Um-" she began but was cut off by the elf that suddenly popped up with a tray bearing glasses of burgundy wine.
"Here you go, sir and miss," the elf squeaked, bowing.
John plucked two glasses off the tray and shoved one into her hand before she could react. Cristella stared at the glass, her euphoria rapidly vanishing. "Er, I'm not allowed to drink wine yet. I'm not old enough."
"Then it'll just have to be our little secret, won't it?" John whispered with a wink. He grabbed her hand suddenly. "Or better yet, let's go where they can't find out. Out of sight, out of mind and all that."
He led her out onto one of the glassed-in balconies off the ballroom that looked over onto the grounds. Cristella fidgeted nervously, brushing her hair from her face, unsure of what to do. Would her mother get mad if she drank it? But John was telling her to. Shouldn't she listen to him?
"Well, go ahead. Take a sip," he prompted, grinning down at her.
Hesitantly, she obeyed and immediately broke into a coughing fit as the liquid burned its way down her throat. She wasn't aware of him moving but suddenly he was right in front of her, standing so close that even through the water in her eyes, she could see the small freckles on his nose.
The next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers and she had gone completely rigid. She'd been pecked on the lips before, just silly games with classmates. But never the way John was kissing her, hard and demanding. His tongue worked its way into her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. Abruptly, his lips left hers and wandered to her neck and she could hear him muttering. "So beautiful.. so soft.. smell so good."
Her heart was pounding and she was terrified. What was happening? Why was he doing this? Wasn't he her mother's boyfriend?
He pulled away and cupped her face. "Y'know, your mother's beauty is legendary in these parts. But I do believe you'll put her legend to shame."
And he kissed her again, gentler this time and somehow spun her around so she was facing the glass doors to the inside of the house. Her eyes were still open and they widened further when she saw her mother staring out at them with such a look of profound hatred that she found the wherewithal to jerk away from John.
"Wha-" he began but then he caught sight of Cookie too and his expression rapidly morphed into an ugly look. "And what d'you think you're doing drinking wine? Get back inside!"
"But you gave it to me!" Cristella exclaimed in bewilderment, baffled by his sudden personality shift.
John glanced at the doors, through which Cookie was striding towards them. "Shut up!"
"Come here, Cristella," her mother said in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice given the circumstances, her blue eyes completely blank.
She went to her mother, who took her hand and led her back inside the house without a word to John. They weaved their way through all the party guests, and her mother smiled and chattered, telling them that, "Cristella has to say goodnight. We can't have her glimpsing Santa now, can we?"
Hand in hand, they climbed the stairs to Cristella's room and her mother shut the door. "So what was happening with you and John?" she asked, still in that same gentle voice.
Cristella suppressed a sigh of relief. She'd thought her mother would be mad or blame her for what had happened. The horror she'd felt earlier began welling up inside her again. "Oh, Mom! I don't know what happened. He just started kissing me like-"
SMACK!
The young girl's head snapped back violently from the force of the blow. Her mother who had never ever hit her before had just slapped her across the face with all the force she could muster. Cristella's eyes filled up with tears of shock and pain as she gaped open-mouthed at the woman she'd idolized, the woman who was now looking at her with profound loathing.
"You lying little slut! John loves me. He would never-"
"But he did!" Cristella burst out, tears spilling down her throbbing, heated cheeks. "He did, Mom! He gave me wine and then he started kissing-"
"Even if he did-" her mother hissed right in her face. "-it wasn't his fault. Do you think I'm stupid? It's never the man's fault, sweet little Stella. They can't help how they are. It's the woman who flirts and charms and even, I dare say, enchants them into doing what they do. So don't give me any of that rubbish about you didn't do anything. You're always doing something. Remember that."
She stepped back, her eyes hard and glinting. "Now, I'm letting you off easy this time. But trust me, if I ever see you.." She trailed off, breathing deeply. Then suddenly, she smiled so sweetly that if someone had happened upon them at that instant, they'd've been touched by the way the woman was gazing at her child. "Merry Christmas, Stella."
And she was gone.
Cradling her aching cheek, Stella walked over to her bed and lay down, completely stunned. That night, she cried herself to sleep, the first of many such nights.
She'd awoken in the morning to discover that her jaw was red and painfully swollen. Her mother had come into the
room fairly early, bearing a tray filled with delicious-smelling foodstuff and had acted horrified by the sight of her
daughter's face.
"Who did this to you, Stella?" she'd asked, tears shining in her eyes. "Was it one of the guests? Tell me and I'll make them pay."
And Cristella had stared at her mother, feeling so confused and angry and loathing this woman who she still, paradoxically, loved too much to say, "It was you. You hurt me, Mom."
But from that day on, she didn't hope for things to go back to normal anymore. She knew they never would. Her mother's behavior, unpredictably swinging from loving to hurtful and back again, quickly taught her to be wary, to be always on the defensive. And from being mostly perplexed by all the male attention she was receiving, she began welcoming it, encouraging it, enticing it. And she made sure to never ever lose control again, to never get into such a situation like the one John had manipulated her into. If there was going to be any manipulating, she would be the one doing it, no one else.
John never touched her again but she frequently felt him watching her. He and her mother broke up not long afterwards but she never forgot what he'd said about her shaming her mother's legend. Unconsciously, that became her mission - to be better at everything her mother had ever undertaken.
And that included the startlingly convincing acting prowess that her mother used to charm everyone and conceal her true neurotic self. Cristella got so good at it that she could fool even herself with what she said and did. Although her life had not been without its rough patches, that ability had made everything so much easier. Not to mention the near-pathological aptitude to twist any situation to present herself in the most favorable light possible.
Only one person had ever jolted her so much from her one-woman performance that she'd had to confront the reality of her life and actions.
******
Wanting suddenly to get away from her memories, Cristella had left her flat to go wandering around downtown Inverness. She'd browsed through the stores but didn't buy anything and had eaten dinner with a few people that she came to the city to do business with.
Upon heading back to her apartment, however, she found herself thinking about Julia Thomas and how things had turned out the way they had. The day she saw Emerson Potter in Dallas had been the day everything began falling apart. The girl just looked so much like Julia, too much, and she'd thought herself completely and eternally free of that woman.
Because that woman had been the only person ever to make her acknowledge the fact that she was a lie. And Cristella couldn't bear that. Her dream world was a defensive mechanism and when threatened, even the most primitive of animals lashed out. Should one expect any less of as complex a creature as a human being?
"No," she said out loud, heading to her bedroom closet for the box in which she kept all her Julia/Emerson-related papers. Carrying it back to the living room, she set it on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it.
There was a picture of Julia Thomas charmed to the inside of the box cover beside one of Emerson Potter. Were not for the eye color discrepancy, one would think that they were pictures of the same person at two different chapters in her life. As far as Cristella was concerned, they were the same person - come back from beyond the grave to taunt and harass her ordered existence.
So she was merely protecting herself here. The best defense is a good offense, didn't they say?
"The funny thing is, I could have liked you, Julia," Cristella said to the empty frame she had picked up from inside the box. The frame contained a picture of her nemesis, who was usually mutely yelling at her, but sometimes the portrait decided to revert out of sight and this was one of those times.
"In fact, I probably would have if we'd met in almost any other circumstance than the one in which we did."
It was the second day of her fourth year at Berkshire Academy of Magic and Cristella Montgomery could be found
happily bounding down the stairs to the Main Hall. She was in a great mood. Last night, she and her boyfriend had made
love and while it wasn't their first time together, it'd been the first time that she'd reached
fulfillment. It'd been incredible and she'd never felt so close to him before. He'd wanted to leave right
afterwards but she'd just told herself that he needed his sleep and she was a supportive girlfriend so of course
she wouldn't try to hold him back.
It'd been hard enough to snag him in the first place.
They'd been classmates since their first year at Berkshire but for some reason, Cristella had never noticed Logan Brunswick until her third year. Which was mind-boggling because, oh Lord, was he gorgeous! He was the clichéd All-American boy, funny, smart, athletic. He was the most popular guy in their year and since she was the most popular girl, she'd decided that they belonged together. He just didn't know it yet and it was up to her to bring him that enlightenment. Together, as the best of their school, just imagine how much power they could wield over their fellow students!
Her acting skills had come in very handy in securing her spot at the top of the social ladder. To everyone, she was this perky, friendly female who was ever so nice. She used her skills to get almost anything she wanted. Secretly, nobody was worth her time or energy but that would make for a very lonely existence, no? So she acted, with flawless perfection.
But anyone who got in her way had better watch out.
For instance, one male teacher who had somehow seen through her façade had found himself without a job, by some niftily shed tears and a shocking tale about inappropriate looks, words and touches. So what if his dismissal shocked and saddened all those saps to whom he was a favored mentor? So what if her story was a lie? For all they knew, she really had spared some innocent young girl from such horror. He did have a rather creepy look to him, anyway.
But strangely, Logan never treated her the way nearly every other guy did. He never looked at her as if he wanted to run his hands through her hair just to see if it really was as soft as it looked. He never flushed and fidgeted when she licked her lips a certain way, not like the other boys in her class did. At first she'd thought he was gay, but then she'd happened upon him kissing an older girl and he'd seemed to be enjoying himself tremendously.
He just seemed to ignore her and that had both infuriated her and made her all the more determined to have him. She'd put all her charms and smiles and pseudo-personality into action and by Christmas of that year, they were at least on speaking terms.
But she wanted more - she wanted to own him - and it'd taken an embarrassingly vulgar conversation with her half-drunken mother to give her the idea of how to make him truly hers. And it'd worked, to a point. She and Logan had lost their virginities to each other, both of them barely into their teens. It'd been a painful but mercifully brief experience. But she'd been elated that finally, she'd gotten what she wanted. She'd gotten him.
In retrospect, it probably hadn't been the best idea to do that the day before they went home for the summer. She'd written to him numerous times but he only wrote back once or twice. Of course she simply convinced herself that that was just how boys were, hardly "faithful correspondents". But upon arriving back at school two days ago, there was no mistaking that he was embarrassed by what had happened between them at the end of last term. Sure, he hadn't wanted to do it in the first place, but hadn't he eventually succumbed to her ministrations? The body doesn't lie about what it desires.
She'd been incredibly hurt by his attitude. As far as she was concerned, he had gotten the better end of the bargain by being with her that way. Couldn't he see how all the other boys watched her, wishing they could be as lucky as he was? The least he could do was show a little gratitude! But she had hidden her bruised feelings away expertly, and surely as a reward for her candor, he'd come to her last night and the magic had happened.
She couldn't wait to see him, to tell him how much it had meant to her. Wasn't that what a girl was supposed to say after something like that?
"Hey, Stella!" various people called out and she returned the greetings with genuine friendliness for what was probably the first time ever, so good was her mood.
Upon entering the Main Hall, she saw him sitting over by the west wing of the Hall, his blond head thrown back as he laughed at something his friends were saying. For a moment, she actually felt something other than the possessiveness and mild hatred that she felt towards him for hurting her feelings.
Shaking her head, she looked instead at the group of guys he was always with. She'd tried to get him to leave them - they took away from her time with him and her efforts to bring him under her control - but he'd gotten really irritated with her at the suggestion and she'd let the matter drop. She hated those guys, though; she always got the feeling that they were secretly mocking her, even as their eyes lingered too long on her chest and behind.
Halfway across the Hall, Cristella raised her hand to wave at him just as a small girl with long, dark hair, obviously a first year, bounded up to him and playfully punched him on the shoulder. Cristella let her arm drop slowly in confusion, half-expecting him to push the girl away in annoyance. What she wasn't prepared for was for him to jump up, throw his arms around the girl and swing her around with such a look of joy on his face.
Has he ever looked at me like that? The thought floated unbidden through her mind as she watched his friends crowd around Logan and the girl, their chattering drifting all the way across to where she was standing frozen in aching disbelief. Shaking her head again, she started briskly towards them, feeling the disbelief being shoved aside by the hot anger swelling within her.
Who was this fresh little tart with such a lack of manners? Didn't she know he was taken?
"Oh shut up, Logan, or I'll tell them about that time with the ants' nest!" the dark-haired girl was exclaiming. Up close, Cristella realized that everything about the girl was dark - her hair, her eyes, mocha-colored skin.
Logan blushed, his blue eyes wide. "You wouldn't."
"Oh yes, I would," the girl sang then burst out laughing at the look of horror on his face.
"What about the ants' nest? What happened?" asked Quincy, the tall black guy that Logan played Quodpot with.
The girl grinned mischievously. "Well, Logan-"
Her words were cut off as Logan's hand clamped over her mouth but he was laughing too.
And then he caught sight of her and the smile died on his face as the hand fell away from the girl's mouth. "Oh hi, Stella."
It was as if cold water had been doused on the scene based on how rigid everybody suddenly became. Everybody but the little first year.
"Oh hi!" she said brightly. "I'm Julia Thomas. And your name is Stella?"
It was right on the tip of her tongue to snap, "No, it's Cristella and don't you forget it!" But a quick glance around indicated that everyone was gazing at this Julia Thomas with unabashed fondness so summoning her best 'Pleasant!Stella' mask, she smiled. "Yes, I'm Stella. Nice to meet you. Where do you know Logan from?"
"Oh, we grew up together. Our parents are old friends so we've known each other since he was three and I was a newborn, basically," the girl chirped with nauseating cheerfulness.
"Yeah and a right little pain in the ass you were too," Logan said, scowling good-naturedly.
The girl tossed her head with a scoff. "Keep telling yourself that, Brunswick. But think what a joy it would be to share that little tale involving Oklahoma, a cocky little fellow and a mad bull? How was that for a 'pain in the ass'?"
There was silence for a few seconds as the other boys tried to work out what that meant. Logan was blushing scarlet and Quincy suddenly grinned. "Oh! That scar on your butt, Brunswick?"
Realization coming, the other boys doubled over and howled with laughter, but far from that reaction, Cristella was livid.
'So that's how he got that scar,' she mused silently, glancing from the giggling Julia to the red-faced but laughing Logan. She'd asked him about it that very first time and probably every time afterwards but he'd never once answered her, saying it was personal. Yet here he was laughing about it as if it was nothing, this fresh little first year having broadcast it to all and sundry.
Illogically, she decided that his behavior to her was all Julia Thomas's fault and she did nothing to suppress the hot rush of dislike that flooded her stomach. Who the hell did this little bint think she was, anyway? So what if they'd grown up together? He was her boyfriend; he belonged to her.
Rearranging her face to hide her fury, she plastered on a smile. "Logan, how about we get some breakfast? I'm starving," she said loudly and just as quickly as before, a cold silence fell over the group.
Logan frowned, glancing at Julia as if debating leaving her.
"Oh, that's ok. Go on," Julia said. "Merry's waiting for me at our table."
"Merry? She's here too?" Logan asked with obvious delight and Cristella found that she hated this Merry already.
"Of course. We're inseparable, remember? But I'll see y'all later or around," she said. "Bye."
And Cristella watched her boyfriend watch Julia Thomas, still with that same fond expression and found that the dislike in her gut was rapidly morphing into loathing.
"But I couldn't do anything then, could I, Julia?" Cristella asked the empty frame. For some reason, she
was suddenly in the mood to revisit the whole thing. "The way people acted at school, you must have thought you
were some kind of royalty. So what if you were friendly and outgoing? So was I! So what if you started getting pretty?
I was that first and way more than you could ever hope to be."
These feelings and thoughts frequently kept her up at night these days, ever since she bumped into Emerson Potter in Dallas. She lay awake obsessing about the younger girl that her boyfriend seemed to rather spend time with. What did Julia Thomas have that she didn't? Hadn't she given him the most precious part of herself? They were meant to be together, dammit so why was he still fighting it?
She didn't realize that she was thinking in the present tense, as if it all were an ongoing trial instead of being more than twenty years in the past. How could she, when Julia Thomas's reincarnation was out there, mocking her still?
The old frustration welled up within and she stood up abruptly and stalked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of white wine. She never touched red wine of any kind. Too many painful memories associated.
Taking a sip, she sat down again as the memories emerged of the day her feelings about Julia Thomas had truly crossed the threshold.
It was a week before the Spring Formal Dance of her fifth year and she was extremely excited. She loved any
opportunity to dress up and show off her refined bluebloodedness, show these amateurs how it was really done without
her disdain being too obvious, of course.
But right now, she was looking for Logan. She needed to know what time he wanted them to meet for the dance, so she could plan everything right up to that second. Upon reaching the Quodpot stands, however, the happy excitement inside turned to irritation. Julia Thomas and Merry Reynolds were sitting in the stands cheering the players in the air.
"What the fuck are they doing out here?" she muttered. "Don't they have friends in their own year or what?"
But rearranging her face into pleasantness, she strode over to them. "Hey girls!"
"Stella! Hi," Julia said, smiling widely and all of a sudden Stella was aware of just how attractive the younger girl was. How had she not noticed it before? And this fly was hanging around her man? Oh heck, no!
"Hi Julia. What's up?" she managed with convincing amiability.
"The boys," was the giggled response and she forced a grin. Glancing over at Merry, she saw that the blonde girl was regarding her with barely concealed dislike and frankly, the feeling was mutual. Stella knew Merry wasn't really fooled by her friendly act; she wasn't as open and guileless as her best friend so Stella had to take extra care not to tip her off.
"So you're going to the Formal, of course?" Julia was asking.
Stella nodded. "Of course."
"Man, I wish I could! I love to dance. But you have to be in third year and above to go."
'And thank goodness for that,' Stella thought. 'You'd probably get Logan to spend all the dances with you.' Her blood churned at the thought and she had to force herself not to scowl.
"So who are you going with?" Julia asked, gazing up at her.
Cristella laughed with slight asperity. They hadn't really discussed it but he was her boyfriend so it was a given. "With Logan, of course. He's my boyfriend, after all."
There was a brief silence. "He's your boyfriend?"
You better believe it, bitch! "Yeah, he is. Why?"
"That's weird," Julia said, frowning. "I asked him if you were his girlfriend and he said no. Remember, Merry?"
"Yeah," Merry replied with an unmistakable smirk.
A strange ringing began in her ears as she felt her carefully ordered plans beginning to slip. That bast- no- these bitches! What were they doing questioning Logan about her business? Surely he'd merely lied to them because frankly, he was under no obligation to tell them a damn thing.
She glanced over at them to see Julia looking sympathetically at her but which Stella, through her simmering rage, deciphered as pity.
How dare she? Does she think I want or need her pity? "Oh, you know Logan," she said more tersely than she'd wanted. "Always joking about."
"Ri-i-i-ght," drawled Merry sarcastically and Stella seriously came that close to slapping the little witch.
Jumping up instead, she faked a sigh. "But I just remembered I have some homework left to finish up. I'll catch Logan later."
And not waiting for a response, she hurried off the field, feeling fury swelling up and overflowing. More than a few people leapt out of her way in surprise as she stalked up to her room and slammed the door. Sitting down on her bed, she grabbed the picture of Logan that was on her nightstand and threw it hard across the room. The sound of the glass shattering seemed to bring her to her senses and she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down.
"It's not his fault. It's her," she muttered repeatedly. "It's not his fault. It's her."
Because she had never forgotten her mother's words to her on that Christmas Eve night.
'It's never the man's fault, sweet little Stella. They can't help how they are. It is the woman who flirts and charms and, I dare say, enchants them into doing what they do.'
"Reparo! Accio!" she whispered, pointing her wand at the broken picture and setting it gingerly back on the nightstand. "It's not your fault, Logan. And I'm gonna free you from her. I promise."
She lay back on her pillow, trying to devise ways of getting back at Julia Thomas without it being too obvious. But she must have fallen asleep instead because the room was suddenly dark and glancing at her clock, she realized it was after six.
"Shit," she murmured, bounding off the bed. She went to the bathroom to freshen up, then headed out to look for him again. She needed to know so she could make her plans. Unable to find him anywhere, she decided to go by the Quodpot locker rooms. She'd once snuck in while he was alone taking a shower and after getting over his initial irritation, he'd enjoyed himself tremendously, she recalled.
Upon reaching the lockers, she paused at the door, debating whether to go in. Deciding to just peek in real quickly, she opened it a little bit and heard the chatter of male voices.
'Dammit,' she thought. 'I'll have to wait till later because there's no way I'm talking about our business in front of those buffoons.'
She started to close the door but the sound of her name made her pause.
"-can't deny that Stella Montgomery is one of the hottest chicks in the whole school."
A smile blossomed on her face as she listened. She recognized the voice and wasn't surprised that that guy would say something like that. She'd once slept with him in a fit of anger at Logan that the sex had profitably burned up.
"Well, she is pretty. But I dunno. There's something weird about her, like she's not all there. Like life is just this big stage production that she's acting her way through," said another voice that she recognized as Quincy, the tall black boy. "And she's such a control freak! Honestly, I don't envy Brunswick being saddled with her."
The smile died as she listened to the other boys muttering their agreement. Fuck you, Quincy!
Quincy went on. "Besides, I don't think he really likes her all that much."
"Yeah, I agree. He would never admit it, of course, but I think the only reason he's still with her is cause he's a horny bastard like the rest of us and she offers him some regularly."
Hearty snickers all around.
"How about that Julia Thomas, though?"
Excited murmurs. "Oh man! Now that's a girl!"
"And she's only twelve! That's so unfair. She looks at least sixteen."
"Fuckin' A! And she's just as pretty as Stella too, but in a different way, ya know? Any fool can see that Stella tries really hard to look stunning all the time but Julia just is. She doesn't have to try."
"Besides that, she seems like the kinda girl who is real, ya know? Like she wouldn't go batshit if she broke a fingernail or something stupid and girly like that."
Laughter.
"That's my kinda girl."
"Well, don't let Logan hear you say that!" somebody else piped up and Cristella leaned even closer, straining to hear over the sudden loud chatter.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Quincy, sounding amused. "He likes her. 'I'm just looking out for her cause we grew up together.' My black ass!"
Loud laughter.
"Any fool can see that," somebody repeated. "Except Julia, maybe. She doesn't seem to notice that he feels more for her than merely 'the little sister he never had'-type feelings."
Breathing deeply, Cristella let the door close at last and walked slowly away from the locker room. Any doubts she'd had about the need to do something had been thoroughly extinguished. Because she begged to differ with whomever had uttered that last statement. As far as she was concerned, Julia Thomas knew exactly what was going on because she'd started it in the first place.
'You always are doing something. Remember that.'
"Well, it's time for me to do something too," the brunette said softly under her breath as she headed back to her room. "The time for dilly-dallying is over. And this means war."
********
Darkness had fallen around Inverness and still Cristella sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her coffee table, perusing the contents of the box. Every now and then she would linger over a certain picture or piece of paper, smirking to herself and taking sips of white wine. She'd lost count of how many times she'd refilled her glass but oh, she had such a nice buzz going right now. No reason to mess with it.
She picked up a Muggle snapshot of a thirteen-year-old Julia, who was smiling tearily at the camera. Her swollen eyes gave mute testimony to the fact that she'd been crying copiously just before the picture was taken.
"That was the beginning," Cristella said aloud, grinning. "That was just the beginning, you fool." She adopted a ridiculously high voice, clutching the front of her shirt. "Oh, Stella! How can they say those things?! Nothing is going on between me and Logan! You know I'd never do something like that. You know that, right?"
Stella had assured her that she did indeed know, even as she fought valiantly not to betray her glee at the younger girl's distress.
"But where did those pictures come from?" Julia had lamented, wiping her overflowing eyes. "They are obviously fake, why can't they see that? I would n-never- Logan would never do that! He's p-practically my brother!"
"I know. It's a wonder where they came from," Stella had murmured in a believably soothing voice. Of course she'd known exactly where the pictures came from. She had doctored the Wizarding photos herself so that they depicted Logan Brunswick and Julia Thomas engaged in an unmistakable liplock, their hands wandering to shocking locations.
Because, you see, that had been the modus operandi that Cristella chose to wage war on her self-appointed nemesis. She couldn't just launch an out and out attack. Because she knew if it came down to a choice between herself and Julia, the vast majority would side with Julia. She couldn't understand why but people just seemed to like that stupid, ever-smiling bint and try as she did, she couldn't discover why.
So her passive-aggressiveness had come chiefly into play and had worked beyond her wildest dreams. It surprised her how readily the female population in particular had accepted the lies she sneakily spread about their schoolmate. Apparently, they were all harboring increasing senses of unease about the pretty little biracial girl who had almost all the boys eating out of her hands. Julia could get them to do almost anything for her, without having to flirt or charm or put out so much as a kiss.
It was all very puzzling and the other girls became increasingly jealous, helped along by the stories Stella was able to distribute in such a way that one would be hard-pressed to ever trace them back to her.
During her free time, Julia could be found in one of two places: in the company of the increasingly angry and overprotective boys who kept vowing to find out who was hurting their darlin' Julia. If she wasn't with the boys, she would be sobbing in her bed, her young heart breaking under the strain of that oh-so-effective brand of nastiness that only females are capable of dishing out.
Merry could be found stubbornly by her side at all times, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as glanced at her distressed friend. More than once, the blonde had gotten into fights in her defense.
And through it all, Stella had been right there too, offering 'a shoulder to cry on', an ear to hear the hurt and bewildered sobs of Julia as she earnestly tried to figure out what she'd done wrong, why it seemed like everybody suddenly hated her so.
"Not everybody," Stella had said once, some of the bitterness she was feeling seeping through. Which Julia, in her distress, fortunately failed to pick up on. "You still have all the guys."
Julia had smiled, missing the implication in the statement. "Yeah. They've been awesome. But Stella, I don't know what I would do without you. And Merry, of course, but you're like my big sister. I'm so glad you're on my side."
"That's why you thought, didn't you? Stupid bitch," Cristella snapped, dropping the picture back into the box and fishing around for another one.
She actually burst out laughing when she saw which one she'd picked up. "Ah! Probably my best feat ever - breaking up The Great Friendship. Too bad that wasn't permanent."
She sighed and stared at the people in the snapshot who were smiling and waving at her - Julia and Merry Reynolds with their arms around each other, not knowing that later that same night they would have a falling out and would not be reconciled with each other for almost three months.
"Ok, you can turn around now," Merry Reynolds said excitedly, putting down her wand. The girls were
getting ready for the first dance recital of the season with Berkshire's Dance Troupe. After putting on their
makeup, Merry had used her wand to arrange Julia's long hair into an elegant knot at the back of her head.
"This is good. Thanks, Merry," Julia said, turning her head this way and that as she observed herself in the mirror. She blew out a deep breath and smiled shakily. "I'm so nervous."
Her friend looked over from where she was double-checking that her slippers were properly laced up. "Come on. You'll be fine."
"I don't know. Not only dancing in front of a packed audience, but singing too! By myself. I don't know what the hell I was thinking agreeing to this."
"You have an amazing voice, that's why. Only you could handle that song," Merry said firmly, standing up and stretching. "If I had a voice like that, I'd want everybody to hear it."
Julia sighed, picking at a sequin on her top. "I used to think that way too. But that was before almost everybody turned against me over some stupid lies. It makes me so mad, ya know?"
"Me too."
"Anyway, Stella reckons I should lie low for a while. Y'know, not advertise myself too much."
Merry shot her a sudden look, her lips tightening but didn't speak.
Her friend had noticed the look and observed her somewhat warily. "What?"
"What what?"
"What was that look for?" Julia asked with a slight frown. "You're not still on about Stella having it in for me, are you?"
Merry raised her eyebrows but still didn't answer, instead turning in front of the mirror to check her tights.
Julia made an impatient sound. "Merry, you know I hate when you do that. If you have something to say, why don't you just say it?"
Merry spun around, her grey-green eyes hard. "You want to hear it? Fine! I think Stella is the one spreading those lies about you."
A tense silence filled the small changing room for a long moment as Julia Thomas stared at her childhood best friend in disbelief. When at last she spoke, her voice was cold. "I've always known you didn't like Stella and I've tried to see it from your perspective. You and I have been best friends since we were six years old. She was infringing on your territory. But I never thought you could sink so low, Merry. How can you say that?"
"Christ, Julia, you can be so naive!" snapped Merry. "You think everybody is all sweetness and light. Have you ever stopped to think why on earth Stella is always in your business? Because she's perpetrating your business, that's why! Or at least the nastier aspects."
Julia had stood up now, her dark eyes flashing. "Well excuse me if I'm not all suspicious and distrustful of every damn person! Stella has been a good friend. She's been on my side through all this crap!"
Merry looked profoundly hurt. "And where have I been, Julia?" she asked softly. "Where have I been?"
"God, Merry, I didn't mean it like that!" Julia cried, looking aghast. "I just meant-"
"You know what?" Merry interrupted loudly, holding up one hand. "Save it. You obviously aren't going to take the word of someone whose been through thick and thin with you for more than half our lives. So there's no point in going through this again. Let me know when you're ready to talk reality."
And with those words, she spun around and strode from the room with as much dignity as one could in ballet slippers. Leaving her best friend staring after her, biting her bottom lip and blinking rapidly so as not to burst into tears of confusion and anger and hurt.
That had been sweet.. so very satisfying and the best part was that Stella hadn't set out to break up Julia and
Merry. That had merely been a by-product but it'd been brilliant because Julia had been so distraught that
she'd gone into a deep depression. She lost weight, there were dark circles under her eyes and for a time
there'd been speculation that she would need to be hospitalized.
She wasn't the best student to begin with - too many extracurricular activities and an inability to say 'no' to whomever asked for her assistance took away from her ability to really hunker down to her schoolwork. And her depression brought on a steady drop in her grades that Stella knew embarrassed Julia greatly because she frequently was 'lending an ear' to those woes.
"Merlin, the number of times I had to listen to you moan about how much you missed Merry, how much you wished you could talk to her, blah, blah, blah," Cristella sniped, flinging the picture back into the box.
She drained her glass but now her head was beginning to pound. Too much alcohol and for fuck's sake, when would she learn not to drink so much? But alcoholism, mental illness and crappy mothering skills seemed to run in her family.
Not that she had any cause to worry about the last two.
With her headache came the inevitable recollections of the times when things hadn't gone all that great on the Julia Thomas War front. Eventually, Julia and Merry reconciled and seemed to be even closer than ever before, though Julia had never withdrawn from Stella either. She'd stubbornly refused to think ill of the brunette and she and Merry had merely agreed to disagree in that regard.
Eventually, Julia developed a thicker skin so that the lies, barbs and cold shoulders lost much of their effectiveness. Instead, the young girl immersed herself in the things she loved: Quidditch, books, music, the dance troupe. She surrounded herself with people who really cared about her - unknowingly, with the exception of Stella, of course - and truly blossomed into a lovely, "well-rounded person", whatever that meant.
Eventually, in the last term of their fifth year, Logan broke up with Stella, confessing that he had feelings for someone else and apologizing for 'using' her for as long as he had.
"Using me?" Cristella scoffed, standing up in somewhat of a wobbly manner and pulling out some clippings. "It was more the other way around, arsehole. And three guesses who that 'someone else' was."
Distractedly, she tossed the clippings aside to fish around in the box for the photo taken in her seventh year of Logan kissing Julia - for real this time. Logan had admitted his feelings during the summer of that year and Julia, being the considerate idiot that she was, had written to Stella to ask if it would hurt her terribly if they dated. Stella had gone into a rage that terrified the house-elves and amused her mother. But in the end, she'd written back that no, she didn't mind and how could Julia even think that and go for it!
They had gone for it, alright. The way Logan looked at her, as if she were some goddess descended from Mount Olympus. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was obvious to all that some very strong feelings were involved, on both sides. Even the teachers began joking about planning a wedding ceremony for them.
"And I had to have it all shoved in my face, the fact that you had won. That you'd stolen him from me. That you'd gotten him to look at you like he'd never ever looked at me. That you'd gotten him to cry out your name and be the one trying to stop you from leaving afterwards. But I had to keep smiling, didn't I? You'd gotten everything I'd ever wanted, without even trying, and I could no longer do jack about it."
And perhaps worst of all, through it all, Julia's vibrancy, her laughter, her almost childlike trust in people, even after all the pain they had caused her, frequently had Stella lying awake in bed, huddled in fear under her covers. Fear of the world, fear of life. Fear of living. Because she had no idea who she really was. She had been acting for so long that the thought of laying aside her costumes and masks and really examining herself was terrifying. The masquerade was her shield, her source of comfort and protection.
And she hated the woman who, simply by being herself, could make her doubt her fortress.
*******
"I remember the first time I saw you," Cristella said softly to the picture of Emerson Potter that was charmed to the inside cover of the box lid. "You were about a month old and honestly, you were the straw that broke the camel's back. You were what made me finally decide to break away from Julia once and for all. You made me decide that the time had come to let her know just what I really thought of her.
"But not even that plan could go right, could it? Oh no, sir!"
It was early July of the year she turned twenty-eight and Cristella Montgomery was in Dallas, Texas for the first
time in quite a while. It was a hot, muggy day, the kind of weather wherein not even a rainstorm could alleviate the
stickiness in the atmosphere. In other words, typical summer weather for Texas.
The air smelled organic, like hay and cow dung as she bumped along in the rented Range Rover down the country lane, on her way to see Julia Thomas, her 'old friend'.
'Right,' she thought to herself with a smirk. 'Amazing how all these years and she's never once picked up on reality. I don't know whether to hit her upside the head for being such a trusting idiot or give her a medal for making my job that much easier.'
Upon reaching her destination, she parked the Rover in the sprawling driveway of the Thomas's ranch and walked across the wide wooden porch with its assortment of rocking chairs to ring the doorbell.
Mrs. Thomas admitted her, looking like one of those paintings of Indian squaws in history books, right down to soft leather moccasins. Only thing she was missing was an infant strapped to her back. "Cristella! How lovely to see you!" the older woman exclaimed, her long braid swinging behind her. Her cheerfulness had the desperate quality of those who knew that crushing grief was incoming and that they were absolutely powerless to stop it. "Come in, come in. You must be burning up!"
"Well, it is kinda hot," Cristella laughed somewhat nervously. Julia's parents always made her uneasy. Talk about a marriage of minorities! Every time she saw Mrs. Thomas, she couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt, which in turn made her angry. It wasn't her fault if her ancestors had stolen Mrs. Thomas's ancestors' land so what was she feeling guilty for?
And Mr. Thomas was always cracking jokes in his Jamaican accent that had never really gone away, even after more than four decades in the United States. Cristella remembered how Julia used to roll her eyes and implore her father to stop embarrassing her. But anybody could see the deep bond of affection and respect between them.
Just one more reason for Stella to hate Julia. Her own father had died when she was a year old and the thought of finding a father figure in one of her mother's many men was laughable. They were all much more interested in trying to grope her than in teaching her to play the guitar or the steel drum like Mr. Thomas did with Julia.
After getting her a glass of lemon iced tea, Mrs. Thomas led her through the deceptively cozy house - the place was huge - upstairs to Julia's room. "She's been looking forward to seeing you. She's had so many visitors lately, it's kind of hard to keep track! How can one person know so many people?" The older woman laughed but broke off abruptly and now seemed to be trying to hold herself together.
Cristella felt a strange rush of foreboding, intermingled with hope. Pausing on the stairs, she turned to Mrs. Thomas and adopted a concerned look and voice. "How bad is it? Honestly?"
Mrs. Thomas sniffled. "The doctors say she has less than fifteen weeks left to live," was the choked reply.
In spite of herself, Cristella was stunned. Fifteen weeks? That was what, less than four months? In less than four months, this would all be over, this chapter in her life would be closed? At last?
After comforting the older woman for a sufficient amount of time, she finished the trip up the stairs. She knocked on the door that still had that wooden plaque of a pair of pink ballet slippers, below which was flourishingly written "Julia's Room".
Footsteps from within and then the door was opened gently. Stella found herself looking into the rapidly hardening grey-green eyes of Merry Reynolds. "Oh. Cristella, hi."
"Hello, Meredith," Stella said, hiding her delight when the blonde bristled at the use of the name she detested.
"Try to keep your voice down. The baby is sleeping," was all Merry said as she spun on her heel and walked back into the room.
Stella closed the door behind her and turned. The room predominantly had that bland, antiseptic smell that is omnipresent in hospitals - the smell of desperation, bleach and death. But there was also the faint odor of nature's best perfume. Vases of flowers were all over the room, obviously from well-wishers who all knew their 'wishes' would be in vain. Most of the furniture she remembered from her visits here had been replaced with beeping machinery and carts bearing even more beeping machinery. The Muggle side.
The bed was almost smack in the middle of the room and in spite of the heat outside, the lone occupant of the bed was bundled up to the chin in several heavy blankets. Only a dark head was visible and Cristella kept her eyes on it as she approached.
Merry was helping her drink from a cup but Julia turned her head when Stella reached the bed. "Hello, Stella." She smiled.
And in spite of herself, Cristella couldn't help but stare. Because Julia looked... diminished, there was no other word. Her mocha skin seemed to have lost its luster and her features were gaunt so that her eyes seemed to take up her whole face. Her long, luxurious hair was gone, replaced by an inch of curly, dark fuzz. The glow of various charms ebbed and flowed above her, offering their futile assistance. The Wizarding side.
She simply looked gravely ill and even to her untrained eye, Stella knew that the doctors were right. Julia would be dead very soon.
But her smile was still dazzling, Stella noted. Her dark eyes still held a bit of their old laughter, though one could definitely see the veneer of pain lurking in the background.
And her voice was as strong as ever.
"Julia," Cristella managed to croak at last, feeling bewildered by the emotions she was experiencing. She was actually feeling sorry for this woman, imagine that!
Merry leviated a chair to the bedside and Stella sat awkwardly, the retreat of her usual sentiments towards Julia now leaving her at a loss as to how to act.
"How're you, Stella? It's been too long! You're looking good," Julia was saying with nary a smidge of bitterness.
Cristella smiled. "So are you."
Julia snorted. "Riiight. Admit it, Stella. I've had better days."
"Well, you do look a bit under the weather," Cristella admitted and felt a twinge of the old delight that always surfaced upon seeing Julia Thomas in a low spot.
Julia laughed softly but Merry jumped up abruptly and leaned over to touch Julia's cheek. "I need to go check on something, ok? Holler if you need me."
"Ok," Julia said, her eyes suddenly sad because she knew why Merry was really leaving the room. When the door closed, she sighed and shut her eyes briefly. "So what have you been up to lately?"
"Oh, just work, ya know. I work for this company based out of London, remember, a Muggle firm so I do a lot of traveling."
Julia seemed to perk up a bit. "London?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Do you ever go into the Wizarding part?"
Stella wrinkled her nose. "Rarely. Their Diagon Alley seems unbelievably medieval these days, especially compared to the Wizarding hubs in, say, Paris or Rome. Or even New York. So nah, not very often."
Julia nodded weakly. "Ok. Cause I was-"
Just then there was a small whimper from the other side of the bed and Julia turned her head to it, but not before Cristella saw the deeply heartrending look of love that had erupted on her face at the sound.
"Shh, it's ok," Cristella heard her murmuring, her voice permeated with that same love and the whimpers died away. Julia stared at the side of the bed for so long that Cristella began to think she'd drifted off.
"Julia?"
The fuzzy head moved around. "Oh, I'm sorry, Stella! It's just sometimes I can't stop looking at her, y'know? I can't believe she's mine, that she's my baby."
"Can I see her?"
"Of course! Just come around here."
Cristella walked around to the other side of the bed and saw that there was a cradle on the floor beside it, being magically rocked. She crept closer and her first glimpse of Emerson Potter filled her with so alien an emotion that she gasped out loud.
"I know," Julia said softly, obviously mistaking Stella's reaction. "I can't believe it sometimes either."
"It's not that I can't believe it," Stella blurted before she could stop herself. "It's that she's so-"
"Beautiful? Perfect? I agree," the young mother said, gazing at her daughter, her face suffused with such adoration that Cristella had to look away.
And suddenly, so suddenly that she almost had sit down, all the old feelings towards Julia Thomas came back in a blinding rush. Never, ever had she hated Julia as much as she did at that moment. Because even now, even on the verge of death, Julia had gotten something else that Stella knew she never would - a child. She'd just received the news from her doctor the other day, that she was infertile. Something about the early onset and quantity of her sexual activity had likely caused some kind of irreparable damage to her reproductive system. Twenty-eight years old and she would never be a mom, not biologically. Ever.
But Julia - even though she was bundled up on a hot day, even though her hair was almost all gone, even though she occasionally had to close her eyes during a surge of pain, still had this creature. This tiny, little human being with fat black curls and long lashes against rosy cheeks and a little rosebud of a mouth, beautiful - even Cristella could not deny that - product of her failing body.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
"Who is her father? Logan?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the baby because surely if she looked at Julia, the gig would be up. Though Stella was rapidly discovering that she was beginning to not care if that happened.
It took Julia a while to answer. "Um, no. Logan is not her father. Though for a while he was the only one besides Merry who knew who the father is. I didn't tell even my parents of his identity until after Emerson was born, and not very many people know even now."
Stella moved her chair so she could sit beside the baby, feeling another stab of hatred. Imagine Logan and Julia still being that close even after having broken up. She'd been delighted when she'd heard the news of their breakup - though she never did find out why they'd split up in the first place - but upon hearing that Julia was expecting, she'd assumed they'd gotten back together and the baby was the result. It wouldn't be at all surprising. She knew that Logan, at least, still loved Julia.
"So who is it?"
Julia was again staring at her daughter but this time Stella didn't speak and finally- "Harry Potter."
Cristella frowned, sure she had misheard. "Come again?"
"Her father is Harry Potter," the other woman said, looking up at last.
"Harry Potter?" Stella laughed dryly. "Good one. For a minute, you almost had me going there."
Julia looked puzzled. "Why would I joke about something like this?"
The indulgent grin faded from Cristella's face as she gaped at her nemesis, who appeared to have been affected in the head by all the cancer treatments, no doubt. How on earth could she possibly think her kid was Harry Potter's?
Please! Think highly of yourself much?
"Oh, she's awake!" Julia said delightedly, jolting Cristella from her mocking thoughts.
She looked over at the baby, who was staring back wide-eyed at her mother and it was as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. Because those eyes- She'd only ever seen eyes like them in pictures of-
"Harry Potter," she muttered in disbelief. "Her eyes!"
Julia nodded, smiling. "Harry's eyes. They started changing last week, which everybody said is almost abnormally early for that to be happening."
'Harry's eyes', she'd said, oh so intimately and Cristella honestly felt sick. It couldn't be. How could- Harry Potter was supposed to be unattainable! That kind of astronomically famous person that you grow up having fantasies about that you know will never come true.
The type of person that you discuss over martinis with your girlfriends and imagine what it would be like to look into those green eyes, to trace that famous scar with your fingertips. To feel those powerful, conquering hands on your body, and oh you get shivers just thinking about it. And that's all you ever get to do because he's out of 99.9% of the world's league.
But not Julia's. Once again it seemed, the rules didn't apply to her.
Tears of bitterness and frustration welled up in Cristella's blue eyes. But she kept them glued on her hands, blinking rapidly because she would be damned if this bitch would see her cry!
"So what does he think of her?" she managed after awhile, without sounding too malevolent.
There was another long pause. "He doesn't know about her yet."
Stella's head snapped up. "He doesn't know about her?" she parroted.
"No, but he'll be finding out really soon." Julia's eyes grew sad and filled up as she gazed at the baby. "I know I-I'm going to d-die. And I want Emerson to be with her father, if he'll have her. So I'll be sending her to him before too long."
The seed of a plan hatched in the back of Cristella's mind as she gazed at the woman who had stolen so much from her. "I'll take her to him for you."
Julia looked startled. "Oh, that's ok. My parents will be taking her over. Thanks for the offer, though."
"No, Julia, I'm serious. I want to do this. I'm going to London anyway so all I'd have to do is find out where Harry lives and take her to him," she said earnestly, the wheels going on overdrive in her head. "If your parents do it, they'll have to pay to travel to a country where they don't know anyone - with a newborn. And who would look after you? Wouldn't they want to spend every bit of time possible with you, while they still can?"
Julia frowned, turning to look again at the baby who was still awake, though blinking sleepily. "I don't know-"
"It's the least I can do and you know I'll be really careful and make sure she gets to him safely! How long have we been friends? Years upon years. Don't you trust me? Please let me do this for you."
There was a very long pause as Cristella watched the emotions play across Julia's face as she turned the offer over in her mind. Stella was just beginning to think that she would turn her down again when Julia looked up.
"Ok, I'll let you do it. I'll let you take her over. I do trust you, Stella. You've always been there for me so I'll let you do this. And thank you."
Yes! Fighting the urge to laugh maniacally, Cristella smiled instead. "No, thank you. For giving me this opportunity. I'll make good use if it, I promise." Yep, very good use.
"Would you like to hold her?"
Did she? That was probably a bad idea. If she held the kid now, maybe she would feel something she didn't want to feel. "No, I really have to run. But I'll see you soon, ok? You promise you'll let me do this for you?"
"I promise," Julia said, smiling. "See you soon."
And as Cristella drove away down the bumpy, dusty lane, she was smiling too. Because finally, she could exact the biggest blow ever. Which would be no less than Julia deserved because really, why should any one person reap all the benefits?
No, balance was a part of life and this time Julia Thomas would finally know, once and for all, just where she stood in the balance.
You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you have been found wanting.
******
Of course Julia's parents and Merry, in particular, had been deeply alarmed and had tried to get Julia to back down from her promise. But Julia stubbornly refused, saying she trusted Stella and she would not go into death having turned her back on someone who had always been there for her, just like they had. So please don't ask her anymore and please try to respect her wishes.
Stella kept in touch, even Flooed down every so often over the next few weeks, trying to keep up Julia's faith in her. It would never do for her to change her mind. Not now. So she endured the hostility from Julia's family and Merry, who apparently felt that she'd manipulated their precious into making a promise that she obviously wouldn't even get a chance to live to regret. She watched Julia steadily deteriorate and her triumph surged with every visit, knowing what she had planned.
She watched Merry Reynolds, who always seemed to be on the verge of tears those days, almost never leave Julia's side. Merry would sit there and whisper stories from when they were little, "Remember when?"s and Julia would close her eyes and try to smile.
She watched Logan Brunswick hover over Julia, his eyes filled with anguish as he watched her forehead wrinkle in pain. The love he still felt for her was evident to all and Stella knew that if Julia hadn't gotten sick, they would likely have gotten back together. They would've had the kind of saccharine suburban bliss family that you see on old Muggle television shows.
It had been a little more than a year after Logan and Julia had broken up that Julia had gone to London and gotten herself knocked up by the great Harry Potter. Julia told her that it'd been a very confusing time. She'd been undeniably attracted to Potter and yet, at the same time, she'd felt almost as if she was cheating on Logan. Even though they weren't together anymore.
Stella knew that Potter was only the second person that Julia had ever slept with. And since apparently they'd agreed not to pursue anything, with time, Julia would probably have gone back to her first, and only, boyfriend. Feelings as intense as what had existed between Julia and Logan didn't just evaporate.
But fate had other plans, just as Stella did.
Unfortunately, while fate could do whatever the heck it wanted and nobody could do a damn thing about that, it wasn't so for Stella. Because when at long last she had Emerson Potter in her arms, having witnessed the final sorrowful, tearful goodbyes of the weakened young woman to her child, she had arrived in London having second thoughts.
What was her plan? To get rid of the baby. How? Well, that varied depending on her mood. It ranged from abandoning the infant somewhere in Britain without any form of identification, which would leave her on God's good humor. Muggle Britain because that way there was less chance that somebody could take one look at her eyes and know immediately who she belonged to. Not like in the Wizarding world.
The most extreme end of the plan spectrum consisted of dropping Emerson buck naked into the muddy and polluted Thames in the dead of night.
But on the night that she would undertake the final phase of her plan - whatever that would turn out to be - Emerson smiled at her. And she found, to her eternal regret, that she couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Cursing her sentimentality, she'd taken the baby to her father instead and settled for leaving her on the doorstep and hoping that Potter wasn't home.
Of course he'd come to the door almost immediately, looking rather ruffled but very attractively so. It was her first time seeing him in person and the fact that she was only just doing so, while Julia had already gone the ultimate length with him, had irritated her greatly. But she quickly suppressed any and all desire to approach him. She would be damned if she would have Julia Thomas's seconds - even if that included Harry Potter. She'd watched with amusement as he'd fallen over in shock when he saw the baby. She watched him take her inside and suddenly it was as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
"Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last," she'd murmured to herself as she removed the Disillusionment Charm from herself and left the building.
She was free from doubt, from guilt, from fear. She was free from the disdain of Julia Thomas's family and close friends - who definitely knew now, with little satisfaction, that they'd been right about her all along. Well, bully for them and good riddance.
And she was free of Julia Thomas - the smooth thief of all she'd ever wanted, of all she'd ever desired. Of all she'd ever needed. She was free.
Or so she had thought.
"Until I saw you," Cristella told the picture of beautiful, green-eyed Emerson Potter. "I know now that what I did that night was a mistake. I should have gotten rid of you once and for all while I had the chance. And oh, what a chance that was! But no matter. I clean up my messes. I'm a control freak, as that asshole Quincy said all those years ago. Yes, Quincy, you were right on that count. Treat yourself to a pint or a bullet to the noggin, take your pick." She chuckled to herself.
She'd thought up her letter campaign, after recalling just how much media coverage had been given to the discovery that the great Harry Potter had an illegitimate daughter. Emerson was about twelve now, and Stella knew from painful experience that this age bracket was when your sense of self was really formulating and was particularly susceptible to negative influences. The plan merely called for attacking the girl where she was vulnerable: how she had come into being, especially in comparison with her younger siblings. It was simple and profound all at the same time: make her question herself, her worth, her place in her family and the world.
Make her feel as different and as dirty as she, Stella, had always been made to feel by Julia Thomas.
That old Dark Arts book in her family had come in very handy in providing obscure spells that she'd placed on the letters and clippings. She placed strong Compulsion Hexes on each and every one, which would make Emerson unable to resist reading what she'd received, even if she fought it. Stella thought that her threat against the younger Potter children should be enough to compel Emerson to keep her mouth shut, but just in case it wasn't, she'd placed Suppression Charms on the letters as well. She made duplicates of everything she sent and linked them so that if somehow the girl broke down, Stella would know by the change in the color of the charm on the copies.
Just as with her first opportunity twelve years ago, Stella wasn't really sure what her ultimate plan was in regards to Emerson Potter. She was still thinking that part through, and it varied greatly with her mood.
"But don't worry, little girl, Julia/Emerson/whatever-the-hell-your-name-really-is. It'll be over soon. For real this time, you can count on that. It'll all be over soon."