There was....really no understanding why Graciela had allowed Bess to dress her up for the ball. It had just happened, and the young girl had not fought against her roommate's advances. If she were honest, it felt good to be acknowledged by Bess. Graciela had spent her first five years at Hogwarts being nearly mute, listening in on her roommates' conversations because she was too embarrassed of her accent, too scared about being made fun of; Bess was doing most of the talking as she worked on Graciela's hair and makeup, but at least it was attention that Graciela could appreciate. When she was done, Bess pushed her in front of a mirror and Graciela wondered out loud if this was a trick. She looked---she looked so pretty, that reflection in the mirror could not be her! Graciela bounced up on her toes (her high-heeled toes!), never having felt like this before within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

Her excitement was short lived however, as the moment she entered the Great Hall she was seized with panic. She didn't have any friends! What was she doing here? Bess and Dexter went off without a second glance, they had boys to talk to, and other girls who marveled at their gowns, but Graciela? Most of her classmates did not think she spoke English, why would they try to have a conversation with her at the party when they had never heard her speak during class? This was the worst idea ever! Bess had done this on purpose, she was sure! She had told Graciela she would make her look pretty, and then when she dropped her off at the party she would laugh at how lonely she was, at how nervous she was!

She should at least eat before she went running back to the dormitory. Graciela sat impatiently at her empty table while she waited for the food to appear, and her eyes were glued to the dance floor. It would be nice to be out there and dancing, but she was not comfortable enough to simply join in a circle of people. They would look at her strangely, they would ask her why she was near them and who did she think she was? Graciela's fears kept her from even attempting to make friends, but they also kept her from getting shunned and hurt. Her logical was flawed but it was all she had.

"Good evening, Miss. Cervantes?"

It took Graciela a second, but she blinked and looked up at the voice addressing her, unable to hide her confusion or shock that she was being acknowledged. It was Edward Pennifold; he was a Ravenclaw in a few of her classes, who was nearly as quiet as she was. He, however, had a group of friends that seemed to break him out of his shell, and Graciela often watched them with envious eyes. What he was doing beside her, instead of with his friends, she did not understand.

He stood in front of her, staring while she sat, staring right back. What was he waiting for? Was she in his seat? Graciela had not seen any signs of previous occupants, so she had assumed...she watched Edward fluster slightly and he ran his hands down the front of his robes, releasing a cough.

"Would you like to---I mean to say, if you don't already---Derek told me I should------you're very pretty."

Graciela blinked furiously; she could not have heard him correctly. Except, Edward's face had gone so red that the only thing he could have said was that he thought she was pretty. He thought she was pretty? A boy thought she was pretty? Graciela felt her own face heat up immediately as his words finally sank in and she looked down and away, completely at a loss as to what to say.

"That was a compliment," Edward blurted after a few more moments of her silence. "I think you look very nice, and---I was told that I should tell you this and maybe---ask you to dance." Graciela's head shot up and Edward blanched, "But only if you want to!"

"I do!" she let out, her shoulders tightening as she realized what she'd said. Graciela stood up, barely able to look him in the eye. She hoped she still looked pretty, even close up like this. "I do---I would like to dance."

"Really?" His tone of astonishment came out as more of a squeak, but Edward cleared his throat and put out his hand. Graciela felt her heart begin to race and pound and she worried that she would pass out on the dance floor. How embarrassing would that be? She let Edward lead her out to the dance floor as the music turned into a slow song. This would be easier to dance to, but that meant getting close to him and---what would be worse, running away or swaying beside a boy who thought you were pretty for a few minutes?

Running would be easier, but as Edward tentatively put his hand on her waist, Graciela decided that staying would be much nicer.

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“See, Gracie, drinking is fun,” George mumbled, dropping his head on his shoulder to look over at Graciela. She mimicked George’s actions and snorted, putting the bottle of firewhisky (or…or whatever it was, she just took whatever George had given her) to her mouth but not taking another drink. It had taken almost a month of needling, but George had finally convinced her to stay after hours for a late night of fun. The two had a lot of common, she’d found in the short time they’ve been working together. He was a muggleborn too, with family far away. Not too far, just Wales, but apparently they didn’t like magic very much so he stayed in Hogsmeade most of the year so not to bother them.

“Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiim,” she answered, putting the bottle to her lap and dropping her head forward, then back into the counter they were leaning on. Graciela’s hand flew to her mouth, well—her face, she hit her nose first, then her mouth, to stop her laughter and then whacked George in the shoulder. “Buuuuuuuut I do not think I can…make…the…things. Los cosas de…the…things.”

“The…things?”

“Sim.”

“Sim?”

“Sim.”

“You talk funny,” George said with a snort, snatching her bottle away. Graciela slumped forward and sighed, her hair falling in front of her face and for a moment she was sure she was going to fall asleep right there.

“George. Jorge. George,” she said through her hands. He was quickly becoming her best friend, and seeing as she hadn’t really kept any good friends in the seven years she’s been in England, Graciela knew she needed to make this work. “If---I never meet someone---will you marry me?”

“You are a flirty drunk, aren’t you? But sure. I’m gay, but sure, why the hell not, you’re cute.”

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Graciela was more than tired, but she’d managed to floo into Hogsmeade and come down to Madame Puddifoot’s anyway. Santiago had offered to come down here for her, to tell her that while Alex was missing Graciela needed a few days, but she had decided that she couldn’t sit around the flat and just…do nothing. Even if she couldn’t help Alex, she could go into work and have something to occupy her mind.

“Where is that girl?” Madame Puddifoot’s voice rang out as Graciela pushed through the door, the bell jingling throughout the empty shop. George caught her eye immediately, looking quite concerned, and Madame Puddifoot spun around. “AH! Grace, where HAVE you been? Do you know how hard it is to run this tea shop without a waitress?”

“Senhora---”

“It’s Madame, and further more, it is one thing to have gained so much weight---do you know how off putting that is when you work in a shop like this, I hired you because you were cute---it is a completely OTHER thing to miss ten minutes of your shift when we obviously need you! Your job comes first, I do not care if your silly boyfriend got lost, he was a bit funny looking---“

“SHUT UP!”

She’d never felt such anger toward any one person, but Graciela’s fists were clenched at her side and she stormed across the shop, pointing a stiff finger at the woman who was at least ten centimeters taller than her. “Do not dare say anything about him---EVER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? AM I SPEAKING CLEARLY ENOUGH FOR YOU?”

Madame Puddifoot sputtered and looked away as if she had no idea why Graciela would be screaming like she was. Her face was red and Graciela could’ve sworn she felt Zacharias kicking for the first time, as if telling her to keep going.

“He is MISSING, he could be DEAD, and I AM TELLING YOU RIGHT NOW I WILL HAVE TO MISS A FEW DAYS OF WORK IF THAT IS OKAY WITH YOU, MADAME!”

“Er…yes. Of course. Take care.”

Graciela took a few deep breaths before putting her hand down and turning on a heel, throwing open the door, but not before she turned around. “And I’m pregnant, not FAT!”

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“Gracita, you can’t follow me around everywhere,” Santiago said with a sigh, stooping down to meet his littlest sister’s eye. She frowned deeply at him and refused to look at him. What was wrong with walking with your brother in the corridors? Her classes were really close to his! It was easier.

“I’m not bothering you,” she muttered in Portuguese, and Santiago stood up, shaking his head.

“You’re supposed to be trying to speak English,” he responded in, of course, English. Graciela’s frown remained on her face; she understood him, all right, but she refused to acknowledge that she did. When her brother started lecturing about things she knew, well, she didn’t like to let him think he was in charge of her. Just cause he was stupid Head Boy… “Promise me you’ll try?”

“No comprendo.”

“Graciela.”

She sighed and looked up at her brother, who was giving her that look again and her shoulders slumped. It was just---it was hard. The girls in her dorm were so mean! But…if Santi thought she could do it…they had gone through a lot to get here, he was constantly reminding her of…

“I will try.”

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She was watching the Gryffindor boys intently, arms crossed with a glare on her face as---ay, boys were so dumb. Sebastian was supposed to be helping her with the mandrakes, but no, he was fooling around with Alex and Fabian like they were so funny. They were just two jocks! They probably weren’t even that smart. Fabian talked quidditch all day long (in every class) and Alex walked around like he ran the school. Why did her partner want to hang out with them? At least he should hang out with Graeme, he was at least nice.

But, she wasn’t going to go over there and get Sebastian back. One, she was too scared to bother him, and two, what if Fabian and Alex made fun of her? She was sure they would, especially since she could barely say ‘mandrakes’ correctly. Hmph. It was going to be annoying trying to pull it out of the pot without someone holding it down, but, she—she could try---

Just as she was beginning to pull the mandrake out, a pair of hands came from across the table and Graciela looked up to see Vinny Gudgeon holding down the pot for her, a big grin on his face. He was talking, his lips were moving but---oh, the earmuffs---ah…Graciela blushed deeply and nodded because she figured he was offering his help, and managed to pull the mandrake out and replant it.

Vinny came around the table and gave her a thumbs up sign, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving them a squeeze before going back to his partner. Graciela watched him go back and when she turned back (looking quite dazed) to her pot, she saw the Gryffindor boys making kissy faces at her and acting as if they were about to faint.

Graciela flung dirt at them when they turned around, and ducked under the table fast enough for them not to catch her.

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“And…that’s it?”

“Well, for now,” said the nice man at Obscurus, smiling kindly at her. Graciela knew that they were taking a big risk, publishing her book, that it would (or, at least, should) cause controversy and upset quite a few people. But they seemed to believe in her cause and wanted to be part of a movement, so they’d agreed to publish it. “It takes a few months, money settlements, editing, printing, promotion tours, cover art---”

“Cover art…”

The man laughed and came around the table and she blushed; it was quite obvious that she was new to all of this and that---ay, it was a whole new world. Graciela stood (not so quickly, oy, she wasn’t used to this extra weight just yet) and shook his hand, and he handed her a thick folder.

“We’ll probably wait for the little one to show up, yeah? Leave the stress until after. Here’s your manuscript; unedited of course, but it’s got the basic gist of how it’s going to look! For now! Things change! Maybe!”

Graciela just nodded along with his words and smiled, said her thanks, as he led her to the door. She went down stairs and out the front door and stood on the pavement of Diagon Alley for a moment before pulling out the manuscript from the folder. There it was. All…bound together, with her name on the front, and---ay, she flipped a page and there was the…that was where the dedication was going to be, there it was…

She felt dizzy, and it wasn’t seeing the title, her name, or the dedication that made her let out a shriek of excitement and bounce around the pavement until she bumped into a passerby. No, no it was the the number one in the corner of the first page of her book.

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This restaurant was so fancy.

Graciela had been to many fine restaurants in her life, it was as if her publishing company did not think she should be allowed to eat at a place that served french fries, but this! Le Chateau Fleur De Resturante, it even had the fanciest name she had ever heard! Graciela gently lifted the skirt of her dress (her fancy dress!) as she followed Edward through the tables to find their booth. Zacharias followed behind her, pulling at his tie and stretching his neck to look at the elaborate desserts on the passing trays.

They were seated in a large round booth with high, red cushioned backs. Graciela wondered what the occasion was; none of their birthdays were near, the anniversary of their first date had long passed, and there was nothing book related at all that she could think of. Maybe Edward had been promoted? She had heard him excitedly talking about a new position earlier in the week.

"The menus, they do not have prices," Graciela said, her eyes shooting across the table at Edward. She did not understand his intention behind bringing them here; Graciela was more than happy to cook, and Zacharias was the pickiest eater she had ever met. He would end up getting chicken fingers, probably.

Edward straightened his back against the cushions and cleared his throat. Zacharias sat between them, unraveling the napkin from around his utensils and tucking it in his collar. The two shared a look and a nod, and Graciela was beginning to realize that she was the only one in the dark at this table.

"As you know," Edward began, unable to catch her eye, "we have been in a relationship for almost two years now, and we are both adults with--adult...needs."

Graciela's eyes widened and she leaned over the table to hurriedly whisper, "Not in front of Zac, Edward!"

"No! No, not---" He shot a look at the boy who was giggling madly, even though Graciela was quite sure her son had no idea what they meant, "I meant relationship wise, that we---have grown quite close, and now that we've moved in together it only seems right to make things official."

She remained leaning forward as the seriousness of his words began to sink in. Official? Make things...Graciela blinked, wondering if she was breathing or not. Edward looked ready to be sick, and he began fiddling with his jacket's pockets. Wait, wait, wait, was he really---Graciela couldn't breath, and she sat back, wondering if her mind was jumping to the right conclusions.

"I had---something written," Edward let out nervously, slipping out of the booth and continuing to look through his pockets. "It was very nice, a Shakespearean verse from The Tempest that's always stuck out for me and---oh, I don't know where I put it..."

"Oy, just ask her!" Zacharias let out from across the table. The two once again shared a look, and Graciela wondered how she had missed the fact that her son and her boyfriend had become a tag team of sorts.

"There are ways to go about this, Zac," Edward pointed out, to which the boy huffed. Graciela realized she was now being ignored by the other two at the table. Zacharias got on his knees and shook his head.

"Just say, 'will you marry me?'! That's it! That's how everyone does it--"

"But that's not romantic or poetic at all!"

"Yeah, but you've messed it up already!"

Graciela blinked rapidly, watching the two bicker across the table as Edward's hands involuntarily pulled out a ring box, setting it on the table as he continued to look for the script he'd written for his proposal. The ring box sat on the table as if it weren't an important element of the evening. Graciela reached out and opened it, letting out an adoring sound at the sight of the ring.

"Get on one knee!" Zacharias commanded, but Edward let out a sound of success when he finally pulled out the parchment from an inner pocket. The two turned toward Graciela, who had already put the ring on her finger and was gazing lovingly at it.

"Well---then," Edward let out, looking panicked. Graciela smiled widely and nodded at him, gesturing for him to come over and sit beside her. She would let him read the poetry he had compiled later.

"Waiter!" Zacharias shouted as his mother and future step-father kissed, "Champagne, please!"

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“You picked a terrible time to be born.”

Zacharias stared up at his mother with a calm expression, and Graciela let out a sigh as she rolled onto her back from her side, turning her head to continue to watch her son. He’d followed her, which warmed her heart, and she dropped a finger to his cheek.

“But you have no idea, do you? That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmured, letting the baby grab onto her finger. Graciela twisted back up onto her side, elbow propping her up as she continued to muse out loud. She’d just gone in to check on him, to see if he’d woken up from his nap, and it appeared that the boy had been awake for some time, eyes flicking around the room; very inquisitive, already. “Do you think you’ll ever know? Or will all of this just be some stories we tell you? Or you read about?”

She hoped for the latter, but with the recent events that had struck their family, she couldn’t be sure. Just when things seemed to be calming down, something tragic struck. It wasn’t fair, nothing about any of this war was fair, and some days she felt guilty for letting Zacharias come into such a world, but the thought was always quick and fleeting.

The war was far from over, the Death Eaters were growing stronger by the day, and if they hadn’t been pointlessly killing innocent people before, now they were attacking innocent people who were magical, just because of who they associated themselves with. Part of her wanted to move away, to get Zac as far from the war as possible, but that would be the cowardly thing to do. She remembered the Sorting Hat had almost sent her to Gryffindor because she was quite brave (though she didn’t believe that at the time), but he’d sent her to Hufflepuff because of how willing she was to do anything for the people she loved. She wanted Zacharias to grow up in England, she wanted him to be able to go to Portugal during the holidays, and Greece during the others. She wanted him to go to Hogwarts and play quidditch for Hufflepuff (yes, she’d already decided he was very much the Hufflepuff), she wanted him to be normal, to have a normal life.

Graciela shimmied a bit and pulled her feet underneath her and picked up Zac, his head in her hands and small body lying down the length of her forearms. She couldn’t imagine ever being so tiny, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

“You are a simple man, Zacharias Joseph,” she said with a grin, knowing quite well that all that was on the baby’s mind was food, sleep, and a diaper change. And to get some attention from those two people with voices he recognized, you know, the ones that call themselves Mami and Daddy?

“He’s up?” Alex’s voice rang out through the room and Graciela blinked furiously as he turned on the light, “Keeping him all to yourself, are you? You had nine months for that.”

“Yes, because that’s the same thing,” she retorted, but handed Zacharias over to Alex and he swept the baby up and started going on about some comic John David had brought over earlier. Graciela grinned at the complete innocence of her husband’s yammering (because it was definitely yammering when she and Zacharias both had no idea what he was talking about) and jumped up from the bed, beginning to whine that it was her turn with the baby.

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“…and that’s the last they’ve seen of him, but we assure you, Mrs. Smith---“

“I’m not---we’re not…yet…”

“Oh.”

The auror looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Graciela with a grim smile. She nodded, not able to catch his eye, and Graciela barely heard him mutter how their men in Portugal would do the best they could to find Alex, that they would keep her updated, and that they’d inform the rest of his family if she wanted.

“You’re the name that the Prophet gave us, that’s why we contacted you first.”

The woman nodded again, mumbling that she would tell Alex’s family and softly thanked the auror for coming to see her personally. She shut the door as he disapparated, and made her way to the bedroom to find parchment so she could write the letters to his parents, to Psyke, to Santiago and Andrea; she needed to tell them, it was her job, she said she would. The bottom drawer of her desk was full of blank sheets of parchment and half-filled bottles of ink and quills, so Graciela pulled together as much as she could and carried it back out into the kitchen. Spreading the parchment and inkwells across the table, she rummaged through the mess she’d just created and looked for a quill, and it took her ten minutes to find one that was suitably sharp enough, with the feathers perfectly in place, and another ten to find an ink bottle that was at the perfect level, because she hated getting ink on the feather, she needed one that would only get the tip covered.

Another ten minutes passed as she searched for parchment that was just the right size, another ten to decide which side of the parchment to use, another ten to put together four perfectly sized pieces of parchment, and another ten deciding if she should use ‘to’ or ‘dear’ or nothing at all.

Graciela dipped the quill into the ink and finally pressed the tip against the parchment. Her words usually flowed like water off a cliff, but the inkblot grew bigger as she pushed the quill down harder, her fingers clenching tightly around it. Soon the whole corner of her perfectly sized parchment was soaked with ink, and Graciela’s face burned at the thought of having to search for another one. Stupid parchment, fucking parchment, bloody ink, spilling everywhere and getting onto her freshly cleaned table, how fucking rude, and Graciela’s arm lashed out and when she didn’t sweep everything off the table her other hand was out in a second pushing and shoving the ink and parchment as far away from her as possibly, screaming at it---yelling, cursing at the bloody parchment that she had to write on to tell people, to tell her family that Alex was missing, Alex was gone---

Damn the parchment, damn the ink, the quills, damn the auror for telling her the news, damn Alexandrakis for getting into trouble, damn him for getting her pregnant and making her fall in love with him just to leave and go missing and quite possibly be---

Her hand flew to her mouth at the thought and Graciela stared tearfully at the mess she’d created. Her floor and counters were dripping and splashed with ink and glass, littered with parchment and covered in quill feathers. Still in a daze, Graciela stumbled past a chair and dropped to her knees ungracefully, managing to avoid any of the glass. Blurry eyes searched for a quill and she snatched at the nearest piece of parchment. Her shaking hands grabbed hold of a quill and she pressed the parchment up against the door of the counter and scribbled furiously a short note to Santiago, he would know what to do---and Graciela cried out for the owl, which swooped from his perch to the closest chair, putting its leg out for Graciela to tie the note to.

In another second it was gone and Graciela was alone again.

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