Year 5 at Hogwarts

Author's Note: There are grammatical and punctuation errors in the correspondence portion of this chapter that are intentional, dear readers, reflecting the maturity level and mood of the fifteen-year-old pen friends. They are entirely my own fault and not that of the lovely admins here at TPP.

Chapter 13: Year 5 at Hogwarts

1993 – 1994

2 September, 1993

Skullcap – whole plant

14 September, 1993

P.S. Do you realize your previous letter was the first one I've gotten without a Quidditch reference in years?

Annie rode her skateboard into town, picking up speed as she coasted down the artificial hill of the bridge. She still had more than an hour to kill before her shift started at the restaurant, so she turned off High Street and onto a residential one. The weather was perfectly mild and dry, and she was hoping that would translate into a busy and profitable night when it came to tips.

She missed working at the curry house. The family that had owned it had been friendly and the food delicious, but sadly they had decided to relocate to a larger town. So, now she was stuck waitressing at one of the cafes here in Ottery. She wasn't doing badly at all, though – she had a tidy little sum saved up in her account at the bank and put most of every paycheck in it.

Annie had been wandering aimlessly through the winding side streets of town when she suddenly she heard a familiar voice call out her name. She turned to see Stephen sitting in his open garage, a guitar in his lap. She hadn't even realized she was on his street.

"Looking for trouble?" he asked her with a smile.

"I've certainly found it, regardless," she answered with a laugh. She coasted up the small paved path from the street to where he sat. She had a few minutes to spare for an old comrade, she figured, just to be polite. She hadn't seen him in ages, after all – Jane, Gran, running and work occupied most of her out-of-school time.

"Been a while. Where is it that you hide yourself all summer long?" he asked her teasingly.

"I don't hide myself," she protested. "Some of us have adult responsibilities, like jobs," she teased him back as she leaned against the doorjamb.

Stephen grimaced. "I have a job as well," he argued, referring to the garage band he had started late last year.

"A paying job?" she needled him.

He laughed. "Any day now, we'll get our big break. You'll see."

"Right. Don't you need to know how to play a musical instrument first?"

"Nah," he laughed, strumming a few chords. "You just need good looks. The rest can be faked."

Annie laughed. She had almost forgotten that Stephen could be funny and pleasant to be around, especially when there was no one else around to posture in front of. He seemed to be a different person when he was with her, alone. More genuine, somehow.

"You should join us. Wanna be in the band?"

Annie shook her head. "No way. You'll never convince Geoff or Mike to go for it."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "They'll do whatever I tell them, trust me," he boasted.

Annie smiled and bleated like a sheep in response. It was their private joke, though she had never really been kidding about it. She wondered if perhaps that was the reason Stephen sought her out sometimes – that she would say or do what she wanted, rather than submit to him in all things like the others seemed to be content to do.

"You don't want me – I have no musical talent whatsoever," she argued with a giggle.

"Weren't you listening to me before? You've got great legs and a nice rack. The rest doesn't matter," he said, cocking his eyebrow and grinning.

"Okay, then! I'm out of here," she said, disappointed once again that he chose to resort to macho rudeness. Dropping her skateboard back to the ground, she hopped on. Why did he always have to ruin any pleasant moment with his vulgar mouth?

"Can't you tell when somebody's kidding, Jones? Why are you always so uptight?" He stood up, set the guitar down, and followed after her.

Annie hesitated and turned around to look at him. Maybe he's right – maybe I am being oversensitive. We were just joking around. At least he had finally quit calling her sweetheart, like she asked.

"Sorry. I guess maybe I do overreact to comments like that," she admitted as she coasted to a stop at the end of the driveway.

"No, I'm sorry. I know you don't like it, and I shouldn't have teased you. Come back and sit down," he asked her, taking her by the forearm and pulling her back toward the garage.

She remained on the skateboard, and he chuckled as she rolled on it after him.

"Okay... so play something. Let's hear it," she said with a smile. She leaned back against the wall of the garage. Maybe if his brain is focused on playing the guitar, he might be prevented from sticking his foot in his mouth again.

"All right," he said, sitting down again. "Here's a song for you, Annie," he added, beginning to strum some chords.

As he played the gentle, lilting introduction of the song, she tried unsuccessfully to place it. It was complex and beautiful, eventually resolving into an enticing rhythm. Surely he hasn't written something of his own?

Then he began to sing, looking straight at her as he did.

Hey lady, you've got the love I need –

So much, so much.... *

Annie was mesmerized. Where had this come from? This sweet, charming side of Stephen? The smooth voice and bright smile had never been there before, she was sure of it.

Watching him play, she could understand why some of the girls at school had begun to fancy him. He wasn't unattractive, she conceded. Pair that with the bad boy reputation – which was greatly overblown and largely undeserved, as she knew from personal experience – and now the fact that he could sing a serenade.... She could see that he could be very charming, indeed.

He finished the song, only looking away from her occasionally to glance at the fret board, checking his finger placement.

He must have been practicing this song a lot, she thought. "That was surprisingly good," she offered as a compliment.

He set the guitar down gently, stood up, and walked over to where she was standing just inside the doorway. "I have a confession to make," he said as he stood in front of her.

Annie's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but she said nothing.

"I wasn't kidding before," he said in a hushed voice, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head, pinning her loosely in place. It was a gesture that made it clear she was free to escape if she wanted to, but the intensity of his stare was keeping her frozen in place. "I do think you're beautiful," he whispered.

Annie was stunned. No one had ever used that word in reference to her. No one had ever looked at her in this way before, either. She was confused and flattered and curious, but also rendered speechless.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Annie shrugged, at a loss. What would it be like? To kiss a boy? she wondered.

Stephen slowly leaned in, giving her every chance to refuse. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. His hands moved from the wall to rest lightly, warmly on her hips.

Annie wasn't sure what to do. She tried to kiss him back, experimenting, echoing what she perceived he was doing while keeping her own hands flat against the wall. Meanwhile, her eyes were open, watching him, and her mind was attempting to analyze what was happening.

Not only did it make no sense to her, it felt... odd. Wrong, somehow. Not in a moral sense, but just not... right for her. She could only describe it in a clichéd term: like a puzzle piece that didn't fit. One thing was very clear, however: this was not what she wanted from Stephen.

She then began to wonder how long this was going to go on. He was apparently in no hurry to come up for air. Her mind began to work on coming up with ways to extricate herself from the kiss without causing too much offense.

Stephen solved the problem for her. One hand began creeping up her torso toward her chest.

Annie angrily swatted his hand and pushed him away. "I said you could kiss me, and that was all," she said.

"You were kissing me back," he argued. "I thought you liked it."

She caught herself just in time – she was about to snap at him, tell him he was mistaken, but reconsidered. Perhaps she had given him some sort of signal – how would she know? She had never kissed a boy before. And there was no reason to hurt his feelings because of her own ignorance.

"It was... fine, I guess," she offered, lying through her teeth.

"Do you want to do it some more?" he asked eagerly.

"No," she said firmly. She was startled as his face fell in disappointment. Feeling sorry for him and slightly guilty that perhaps she had led him on, she added, "I have to go to work now," as an excuse, avoiding the truth.

"Oh," he said brightly with false understanding. "Maybe later?"

"I don't know..." she answered. She hoped the tone of her voice adequately conveyed her reluctance to consider the possibility. She didn't want to keep leading him on. If he thought for one moment that this wasn't an isolated incident, then trouble would be unavoidable. "I think we should just be friends, Stephen," she said with finality.

"Whatever," he answered, as if this didn't bother him in the least. "We can keep it casual," he added.

"Keep what casual, exactly?" she asked, confused.

"This. You and me. Nothing official or exclusive. Just whenever...."

Annie was alarmed now. "There is no this, Stephen, exclusive or otherwise. The kiss was a one time thing. Do you understand?"

He smiled at her, as if he knew her own mind better than she did. "I get it," he replied.

Annie was pretty sure he didn't. She glanced at her watch. It really was time for her to go, if she wasn't going to be late for work. But there was one more thing she needed to tell him before she left.

"Stephen, I hope it goes without saying, but... please don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

He nodded at her once, still smiling that smug smile. "Gotcha. Our secret."

"I'm serious, Stephen. Not a soul," she urged as she hopped onto her skateboard and started down the driveway.

"I'll see you around," he called out as she sped away.

Her first instinct had been right all along. She had found trouble. When will I ever learn to steer clear of Stephen Drake? she asked herself.

15 October, 1993

George & FRED

30 October, 1993

Annie

November 8, 1993

George & Fred

17 November, 1993

Annie

Two girls were chatting at the mirror of the girls' toilet at school. Annie was just about to step out of the stall when something she heard made her freeze.

"So, Felicia, how was your date with Stephen Drake?" said a girl's voice, eager for gossip.

Annie stepped back away from the stall door. The last thing she needed right now was to show her face when Stephen was the topic of conversation. Somehow, the 'casual' kiss they'd shared – which was supposed to have remained a secret – had exploded within a week's time into a full-blown relationship via the gossip mindfuck that was school. She had been so furious about it that she hadn't spoken to him for nearly two months since.

"Poor bloke! He's brokenhearted, you know. That Jones bitch really did a number on him," Felicia answered her friend.

"What did he expect from a whore like that?" cried the friend.

Annie pressed her fingers against her temples so hard it hurt. Surely they would leave soon, before she made a spectacle of herself and went berserk. For a moment, though, she felt a pang of guilt. Did I really hurt Stephen? she wondered. That had certainly never been her intention....

"I know! Anyway, it was so romantic! He's in a band, you know. He played me this Zeppelin song; it was so sweet. Then he told me he thinks I'm beautiful," Felicia reported. "And then we snogged for about an hour straight," she bragged.

Annie thought she was going to vomit. The serenade... telling her she was beautiful.... All of it had been an act, she now realized. A routine. Had she been Stephen's guinea pig? A test case? Market research?

"Is that all?" asked Friend, apparently expecting more.

"Well, I let him feel me up a bit, of course," Felicia claimed, giggling.

Annie was shaking with disgusted rage at her gullibility. Stephen's every single syllable, his every single gesture had been identical with her. Count to ten, she desperately urged herself. One... two... three....

"Over or under the sweater?" asked Friend curiously.

"What do you think?" Felicia replied, implying the racier of the two took place.

"Ooh, you are a naughty girl," laughed Friend, pretending to be scandalized. "Are you going to see him again?"

"He asked me to come over Friday. Said we could go somewhere after the band practices...."

The girls' voices began to recede as they left the bathroom. Annie sunk back onto the toilet seat as the small room grew quiet once more. Her breath was coming in rapid gasps, and she was feeling dizzy with the effort not to scream.

The bell rang for the next class, but she stayed where she was, knowing she was no state to face a roomful of fellow students. The slightest offense from one of them would send her off the deep end, and she couldn't afford the scandal.

It was a routine, she repeated in her head. And she had fallen for it. She had been so stupid to think for even a moment that she had ever meant anything to him. Certainly not as a friend. Not as anything other than a tool. Something only to be used.

She spent the next fifteen minutes getting her anger under control physically. Her breathing and heart rate were calmed by force of will; the adrenaline in her blood gradually dissipated. Meanwhile, she steeled herself to face once more the hellish world school had become.

Jane! I need you now! she cried inwardly, wishing she could somehow summon her confidante. She screwed her eyes shut and imagined what words of wisdom her friend would advise her with.

Don't give the arseholes of the world so much power over you, Annie.

As she sat there on the toilet, Annie resolved she would no longer acknowledge, much less try to quell the persistent rumors. Her efforts to do so had done no good whatsoever, and she now realized that Stephen had been right, last spring, when he had told her the more one refuted a claim, the more it seemed to stick as gospel truth. Further, she would not attempt to punish the traitor who started them – would instead ignore the idiots who spread or believed them. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset by anything they did. From this moment on, they would have no power over her.

And she would never again spare another kind thought for Stephen Drake.

16 December, 1993

George & Fred

31 December, 1993

P.S. Fred's name is in parentheses because I no longer believe Fred either reads or writes any part of these letters. And I do not believe he is curious about it either. He is a toad, and please tell him so from me.

21 January, 1994

George (& Fred – all right, I admit he doesn't participate, but he always asks after you when he notices you've written us! Ribbit!)

1 February, 1994

Annie

29 February, 1994

George & FRED (Happy birthday, you git – and yes it's really me. Ribbit!)

"Relax, Jane. You're eighteen for real, and you won't be the one going to jail," Annie reassured her friend who was anxiously glancing around the bar. "I'll take the fall alone if I get caught."

"No one's getting busted," argued Jane's old boyfriend, Robin.

He had been in seventh year when Jane arrived in Ottery, and she had promptly snagged the cutest, smartest, most popular boy in school as her boyfriend. Robin was a nice fellow to boot, Annie reckoned, and had always treated them both with respect. He and Jane had mutually decided to break it off when he left for university, but Annie suspected they both still harbored feelings for each other.

"The fake ID got Annie past the bouncer, and that's all that matters. We're in, and that's the end of it," he said as he gave Jane a bracing one-armed hug. "My birthday's not 'til May, Annie, so I got plenty of use out of mine my first year here, that's for sure. It's a good one, I promise."

Jane had arranged for Robin to get the ID for Annie as a birthday present, "In case you find a car to buy sooner than you think," she had explained. She knew Annie was in the market to buy a vehicle to help her transport her Gran to medical appointments (which were becoming increasingly frequent and farther away from home), rather than always borrowing Mrs. Finnerty's. And it would still be two years before Annie could legally drive – or drink in public, for that matter, hence the source of Jane's anxiety.

Annie had been at least as touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as she had been shocked that Jane had resorted to illicit activity to obtain the gift. Granted, Robin was the one who had actually procured it, but it was at Jane's request, after all.

"Sorry. I guess this just goes against everything I'm used to," Jane said with a nervous giggle.

"It's good for you to step outside your comfort zone, once in a while," Annie said with a wink. "I've been begging you to get into trouble with me for ages."

Jane laughed in response. "I suppose... it is a bit thrilling," she confessed.

"Finally!" cried Annie. "Perfect Jane loosens up a bit!"

Jane stuck out her tongue at her.

"Rob, go dance with her. She needs to burn off some of that nervous energy," Annie encouraged them.

"We're not going to leave you alone here," Jane scolded.

"She won't be alone... here comes Andy," Robin answered, rising from his seat.

After they said brief hellos and introductions, Robin dragged Jane over to the dance floor, leaving Annie with his flatmate, Andy. She hadn't met him before, nor had she been able to find out anything more about him from Robin other than, "He's a good bloke."

"So, it's your birthday, then?" Andy asked, making small talk as they sat alone at the table. "Rob told me that's why you two are visiting. Having fun?"

"Sure," she replied cheerfully, appreciating his effort to be friendly.

Andy had light brown hair, brown eyes, was of average height and build. In short: he was completely nondescript. But not in an unattractive way, Annie reckoned – more like safe and reliable. She took a long drink from her pint.

"Do you mind me asking how old?" he asked, smiling.

"Eighteen, of course," she said, laughing, holding up her pint glass of ale as proof.

He laughed as well. "I don't think so..." he added in a lower voice.

Annie paused. "What do you mean?" she asked a bit anxiously. Had Rob told him about the fake ID?

"Well, if your birthday really is on Leap Day, then your age would have to be divisible by four. I may not be a genius at maths, but that rules out eighteen, I'm afraid. Your options are twenty, which is highly unlikely, or sixteen, which is highly illegal," he said with a smile.

"Aren't you clever?" she replied. "Actually, my birthday was yesterday...." She attempted to sound casual in her false explanation as her anxiety was building.

"I'm sure it was," he laughed, unfooled. "That's the most logical conclusion, after all. Don't look so nervous – I'll never tell," he assured her. "Although I do think it's rather irresponsible of Rob to bring a pretty sixteen-year-old to a place like this. The sharks are already circling," he added, nodding toward the crowded bar.

Annie looked at him guardedly. She had fallen victim to flattery once before and wasn't eager to repeat the experience. "Eighteen-year-old, remember? And I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she instructed him. The safest bet was always to stick to the original story, she'd found. Fervent conviction was often more convincing than facts or logic.

"Right," he answered, smirking. "I hope you don't take offense, but I think I'll keep an eye on you tonight anyway. And do me a favor," he added, waving the waitress over to their table.

"That depends," Annie replied, leery.

"Try to keep hydrated," he recommended, then turned to ask the waitress to bring a pitcher of water and a few empty glasses. "It'll help you feel better tomorrow."

"Oh," she responded, surprised by what now appeared to be Andy's genuine concern for a complete stranger. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he replied, taking a drink from his glass.

Jane and Rob returned to the table then and joined the conversation. The four of them continued to chat for a while, and Annie learned Andy was studying to be a doctor.

"Really? Wow – I can't imagine anyone voluntarily going to school for so long," she teased him.

Andy shrugged. "It's what I'm good at. A professional student, me."

Annie shook her head. "No offense, mate, but that sounds like hell on earth, to me," she laughed.

He laughed in response. "Not far from the truth, actually. And no, to answer your next question: I have no life," he added.

"You need a hobby," she counseled him, "to get you out of the library. Something that doesn't involve books. Something reckless – maybe skydiving? Or racing motorcycles?"

Andy laughed, shaking his head. "I'm studying human anatomy, remember? I know exactly what a mess I would make upon impact."

"All right, ladies," Robin interrupted. "Ready for tonight's lesson? Time to learn proper pub etiquette, you two."

"Wipe your hand after you sneeze into it?" Jane teased.

"Save the spitting for outdoors?" added Annie.

"Har, har," Robin laughed sarcastically, setting two full shot glasses in front of them. "When a fellow offers you a drink, what do you do then, smarty pants?"

"I already know the answer to this one, Annie. Why don't you give it a try?" Jane bluffed.

"Of course you do, Jane. Is there any question in the world you don't know the answer to?" Annie replied sarcastically.

"The answer is," Robin said in an exasperated tone, "you accept it and politely chat with the generous fellow until the beverage is finished."

"Glad it's a shot, then," Annie teased him as she knocked it back. "Just about time enough to say thanks and move on!"

"Point well taken," laughed Robin. "I'll remember that, next time. Pints only, from now on!"

As the evening progressed, Robin, Jane, and Annie proceeded to get somewhat inebriated under the watchful eye of their babysitter and designated driver, Andy. Annie was careful to follow his advice, downing as much water as she could in between alcoholic beverages bought by friendly gentlemen. By the end of the night, Annie and Jane both had pockets full of bits of drink napkins and coasters containing phone numbers, pressed into their hands by hopeful, drink-buying admirers as they'd danced and mingled.

"I can't believe the utter pigs there are in this town," Andy said in shock as Annie emptied out her pockets in his car, letting the scraps fall to the already cluttered floor. She sat in the front seat next to him, while Robin and Jane were exploring the possibility of rekindling their romance for the evening in the back. "They couldn't all be so drunk as to fail to notice your age."

"Maybe they were blinded by my beauty and charm," Annie giggled drunkenly at her own wit, poking fun at herself.

Andy snorted. "It's amusing how you think that's a joke," he said quietly.

"Don't be such an old biddy," she needled him, misinterpreting his comment. "So they thought I look a bit older than you did. Most of them were just being polite to me. I think the term is 'wingman?' Jane was the flame drawing the moths."

"I suppose they deserve whatever they get, in the end," he said shaking his head with a rueful smile.

The occupants in the backseat were starting to make suspiciously romantic kiss-like noises, so Andy turned on the radio to block them out. He and Annie drove the rest of the way back to his flat in silence.

Andy flipped on the lights as the four of them entered the apartment. He led Annie to the doorway of his room, politely indicating she was welcome to have his bed for the night, adding, "I'll take the sofa."

"I should be the one on the sofa," she argued as he pressed another glass of water and some aspirin in her hands. "I'm the interloper."

"Won't hear of it. Let me pretend to be chivalrous," he said with a smile.

Suddenly the light in the front room was switched off. They heard Jane quietly giggle in response.

"Uh-oh. Think I should go break those two up?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Annie thought for a moment, then nodded. "Best to turn the hose on them for tonight. If they feel the same way when they're sober tomorrow morning, then I'll apologize and take the blame."

"Right. Off to bed with you now," he said softly as he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in his room.

She heard him rousting the amorous couple in the front room, then the other bedroom door close shortly after. "No sneaking back, Rob," Andy admonished his roommate about ten minutes later from where the two of them were bedded down in the front room. Annie fell asleep soon after that.

She was the first to awaken the next morning. Apart from a very dry mouth, she felt none the worse for wear. Annie dressed and tiptoed into the bathroom for a drink of water and quick attempt to tame her hair. Then she crept quietly into the tiny kitchen and nosed around. Finding nothing at all to eat, she happened upon a set of keys instead. She nicked them and silently headed out of the flat, hoping to find a market within walking distance.

Annie had been back in the flat for nearly twenty minutes and had a pile of sausages cooked and on a plate before anyone else began to stir. She had just begun to pour a second round of pancake batter into the skillet when a voice startled her.

"I didn't know we had any food in here," mumbled Andy from the doorway.

"The cupboards were bare, in fact. You might be shocked to learn there's a market just around the corner," she said with a smile.

Andy chuckled. "Are you surprised we don't do much cooking here? This is a bachelor's flat, after all."

"No. Especially once I discovered the cobwebs on the pots and pans," she giggled.

"You don't have to go all this effort," he said, serious for a moment.

"I do if I'm to have a prayer of eating this morning," she teased.

"Point for Miss Jones," he laughed as she handed him a plate with a stack of steaming pancakes. "You seem to be feeling all right this morning," he added.

"All due to your expert advice," she replied. "Thanks again. I had a great time last night. One of my better birthdays," she added.

"Not the best?" he asked, pretending to take offense.

"No... not quite," she said, sounding slightly wistful. The best ones were far behind her now, in her childhood. Eight had been magical, nine had been fantastic, and ten had been simply wonderful. She was reminded of that one rather often – whenever she was alone in the garden, in fact.

"Well, you've only had sixteen of them, you know," he said disapprovingly as he took a bite.

"Still on about that, are you?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't blame you, you know. I'm not really such a wet blanket as you might think," he said before taking another bite. 'These are amazing! What's in them?"

"Secret family recipe," she giggled. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," she joked as she poured them each a cup of tea.

They were joined at that moment by a shuffling and grimacing Jane.

"Good Lord. You look like you got the rough end of it, Jane," said Annie sympathetically.

"Aspirin. And tea, if you please," she croaked in response.

Andy pushed the bottle of pills toward her and Annie passed her a cup. "Want any breakfast?"

Jane shook her head and winced again. "Not just yet," she moaned. After another moment, she asked Annie, "How is it you're so chipper this morning?"

"I came in a distant second in the popularity contest," Annie needled her. "You had far more free drinks than I did," she explained further in response to Jane's confused look.

"What an idiot I am," she groaned, laying her head onto the table. "Could I have another?" she asked as she pushed her empty teacup toward Annie.

"Of course, poppet," Annie cooed. "And maybe a nice, hot shower – if that's all right with you, Andy?"

He nodded. "I'll just go set out some towels," he offered as he rose to leave the table.

It was late in the morning before Jane and Annie were finally prepared to leave. Jane was nearly recovered from her hangover, but agreed to let Annie drive them home anyway. The morning had been a bit awkward once Robin had woken up – both he and Jane were a bit embarrassed by their behavior the night before.

Annie and Andy had tried to give them some privacy to sort it out while Annie loaded their things in the car.

"Rob's a decent guy, you know," Andy offered. "I don't think he meant to take advantage of her last night. They were both pretty drunk...."

Annie nodded in agreement. "It was at least as much Jane's fault as his, and she knows it. I think they still have some unfinished business between them, though."

"The perils of teenage romance," he said a bit sarcastically.

"I wouldn't know," Annie laughed, assuming it was yet another dig at her age.

"You can't expect me to believe that," Andy replied, strangely serious.

Annie shrugged, but was saved from arguing the point as Jane and Robin walked out the door, holding hands. Annie looked at Andy with her eyebrow raised, as if to point out her assessment had been accurate, and he rolled his eyes in response. He walked around to the driver's door and opened it for her.

As she started to step into the car, Andy gently took her hand and put a small piece of paper in it. "I hope you'll call me... when you're really eighteen," he whispered, and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Drive safely, ladies," he said more loudly as Annie sank slowly into the driver's seat, and he carefully shut the door behind her.

"Nice fellow, Andy," said Jane innocently, gazing out the window at the two fellows now chatting with each other on the sidewalk.

Apparently Jane hadn't noticed the brief exchange between Andy and herself, to Annie's immense relief. She had been stunned by the kiss and was scrambling to recover her composure as she stuffed the slip of paper into her pocket.

"That he is," Annie agreed as she pulled out onto the road, doing an immediate U-turn. "Couldn't agree more," she added as they both waved at the two young men standing in front of their flat.

"Now, spill it. What's going on between you and Rob, my dear? We have a long drive ahead of us, and I expect to be entertained for my trouble," Annie teased, eager to change the topic.

Jane groaned. "Oh, Annie, what am I going to do?" she whined, and they proceeded to dissect every aspect of her complicated relationship with her ex-boyfriend for the entire way home.

1 April, 1994

Annie

15 April, 1994

P.S. Tomorrow is our final match – against Slytherin. Promises to be a bloodbath.

May 1, 1994

Annie

10 May, 1994

George (& Fred)

25 May, 1994

P.S. I have a big surprise for you both when you get home!!

8 June, 1994

George (& Fred)

*Lyrics from "Over the Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin