CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
COULD DIE HAPPY

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            Still, Amandla found that she understood almost completely nothing about Quidditch. It just confused her, then again she was never one for sports. Growing up in a muggle neighborhood, she and Cevira constantly saw people playing footie, but neither understood the praise for the sport. And then with wizard culture and their high spirits for Quidditch, it felt like looking out that window again.

         She could picture it clearly in her head. They didn't go out, people called them weird. Always the girls, never Caesar. Like always, he was so believed by the other children, taking part in their games. They would sit at the window ceil and watch outside, hearing the record playing that Anastasia had set up as she cleaned the house. Almost it felt like they could the laughter coming from outside, seeing their joyous expressions as a team scored a goal and the others scowled. It haunted her, that joy, knowing that once again Amandla Fitzgerald did not fit in. Cevira would watch with a saddened expression, just wishing to play with her brother. Amandla, on the other, stared with confusion. She didn't understand why they enjoined kicking around the ball; she didn't see the point.

         And that was very similar with Quidditch. She didn't understand it and therefore she still saw no value in it. Of course, she still attended the game, even though Hufflepuff was not playing, because Hermione fucking Granger invited her, and it would've been rude to decline. And when she mentioned that point to Cevira, the girl rolled her eyes, knowing that Amandla would always find a reason to say yes or hang out with Hermione. Not that she was wrong, but that's beside the point.

         The two girls were sitting in the Great Hall before the match, eating their breakfast, which included waffles and sausage. Amandla saw some others reading the Prophet while eating, but she made a point not to after last year. Well, after everything. Not just the news of the escapists, but of the stories that spread about her – how the child of Isaiah and Gwendolyn Fitzgerald was actually alive!

         "Pass the butter, would you?" Cevira asked, reaching out her hand to meet Amandla's. "Thanks," she took her knife and spread it out on the waffle.

         Amandla only nodded as the Stature girl continued, "Excited to spend time with Hermione?"

         "That's not the only reason I'm going," it was, the blush on her cheeks only helped to prove that. Cevira gave the girl a look that made her continue, "I'm supporting Harry – and Ron, it's his first game, you know."

         Cevira rolled her eyes, "You're ridiculous. Just admit that you're only going to spend more time with lover girl, nothing to be ashamed of."

         "Um, maybe because I'm not?" if there was anything about Amandla it was that she was a shit liar. The worst, especially when it came to lying to her friends, especially if she wasn't prepared to lie beforehand. And the blank look on her friend's face wasn't helping until she eventually cracked, "Okay, okay. Yes...I may only be going to spend time with Hermione...maybe."

         The Asian girl sported a smile then, "Now, was that so hard, Amandla? No, it wasn't." She took a bite of her waffle and moaned, "Merlin, that's delicious!"

         Amandla giggled, picking up her fork with sausage on it and took a bite. It was quiet for a moment before she sighed again, "But it doesn't even matter, does it? Hermione likes Ron – not me. I should've just said no, right? Said I was busy with homework. Yeah, I should've done that. Shit. Do you think it's too late to cancel?"

         "Amandla. Amandla, sweetheart, calm down," Cevira said softly, "It'll be fine – and I'm sure you can talk Hermione into moving on from Ron and on to you."

         She shook her head, "Thing is, I won't. Hermione's straight, Cevira, I think that's pretty clear that she'll never like me. At least, never more than a friend. But hey, it's alright!"

         Cevira reached over to place her hand on the Fitzgerald girl's, "Just give it time. Hermione probably doesn't even know her sexuality yet, so stop jumping to conclusions."

         And with that, Amandla just nodded. She was probably right, right? Yeah, had to be. But then what if Cevira was wrong and Hermione never did like her? "I should just cancel."

         "No, you're not," Cevira decided with a strong voice, "You're going to that match with Hermione and you're going to have a great time, alright? No more canceling nonsense."

         She nodded again, Cevira could be very demanding when she wanted to be. But still, she couldn't say that she was convinced. "But what if I just say that it's Herbology? I don't think Hermione's taking that class, she'll believe it."

         Cevira gave her a look but didn't say anything, though Amandla bowed her head at that, already knowing what she would say. "Okay..." she muttered before looking up again, "Or maybe Divination – I know she doesn't have that class."

         "Harry and Ron have it, you doofus, she could just ask them. And then she would find the truth that there was no homework and find out that you canceled for nothing and then you'll properly ruin your chances with her. Do you want that, Amandla? Huh? Do you?" Cevira fired, eyes burning.

         Immediately, the girl became quite meek, as if her fears about everything were foolish. They were justified, but Cevira was making her feel foolish. "No..."

         "That's what I thought," Cevira continued on eating like nothing happened, "And I'll be watching the first part of the match to make sure you won't leave."

         Amandla shook her head, "It'll probably be too late by then, won't be able to leave my spot until the match's over."

         "Good," Cevira nodded, "But I'll be with Caesar. He's really trying, Amandla, really. I hope he keeps trying."

         The Fitzgerald girl smiled, knowing how much this meant to her friend. Caesar had been trying to right his wrongs with Cevira and it meant too much to the girl. But she knew, knew how many nights the Stature girl spent weeping over her brother and how it seemed like he didn't love her. Now many nights she hated herself because she wasn't smart enough like him or loved enough, and she would never amount in the eyes of her mother – and that meant Caesar would never truly love her again.

         It was different when they were young – really young. The three were so close, felt like nothing could break their bond. She remembered thinking that if this was what siblings were like, she loved it. Picking flowers with Cevira and creating flower crowns they would force on Caesar's head. Having water balloon fights during the summer and him sneaking into their room after Anastasia went asleep, staying up for hours telling ghost stories and him sleeping on the floor. It was fun and games until they reached the age of nine and he turned on them. It became clear that he was smart, became clear that he was liked more and it went to his head. He left them behind for studies and the praises of his mother and the other children in the neighborhood. And Cevira was broken; she had lost her brother. Even though he was still alive, he was gone. And that almost seemed worse than him being dead.

         "Good...that's good," Amandla smiled, "Say, has Corey spoken any to you."

         Cevira nodded slowly, "A little...I mean, when passing, but not like an actual conversation. Why do you ask?"

         "I've been..." she suddenly felt very guilty for not telling the girl sooner, but what would she have said? That he was in a terrible? They already knew that. "Corey came to me, wanted to speak, said he was going to try again."

         "Did he say anything about why he pulled away in the first place?" Cevira asked, a little hint of bitterness in her tone, causing Amandla to frown, yet she knew she deserved it.

         "No. You know if he did I would've told you," Amandla added the second part quickly.

         "Do I? You've kept plenty in the past."

         "Cev..."

         "It's alright, Amandla, I understand. But it still hurts, alright? And I've been trying to get past it, but it still stings. I still you everything – instantly – and you just keep all the secrets from me and I hate it. It feels like you just don't trust me."

         "You know that isn't true – I trust you with my life!"

         "Really? 'Cause it definitely doesn't feel that way."

         Amandla stared at her for a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I've kept all these secrets, but what was I supposed to say? And the thing with Corey was so recent and I wasn't sure if I could say anything."

         "He was my friend, too. He was my friend and it hurts that he came to you first, even though I know why. But still...he chose you – not me. That's what hurts," Cevira said, though it was more quiet than anything else.

         "Cevira..."

         "I'm sorry, Amandla, have fun with Hermione. I'll...I'll talk to you later," she started to stand up.

         "Will I see you later?"

         Cevira bit her lip, "I don't know. I just need time. To think. I just need time to think."

         And it was official; Cevira had joined her brother at the Ravenclaw table, welcomed with a hug. Amandla felt more guilt hang inside her. She was still keeping secrets, she promised she wouldn't, but she was – she was keeping more secrets. So Amandla understood why Cevira needed time, but it was hurting her. The person she could count on to never leave – even after Draco – left. Like everyone else did.      And just like other times, it was all her fault.

         Letting out a shaky breath, Amandla stood up from the table, placing a smile on her face again and walked to the Gryffindor table. She didn't want to be alone, and surely Hermione would welcome her. Right?

         "Good luck today, Ron! I know you'll be brilliant!" she heard Lavender cheer before walking out of the Great Hall as she sat down. Immediately, Hermione smiled at her.

         "Hi, Amandla," she squeezed the other girl's hand. Amandla felt her heart stop for a moment from the contact.

         "I'm resigning. After today's match," Ron, looking pale, said, "McLaggen can have my spot."

         He was fearfully nervous, knowing what everyone was expecting of him, and not wanting to let anyone down. He was shaky, bags under his eyes, and more pale than usual. Amandla was frightened, scared of the possibility that he might pass out or something.

         "Have it your way," Harry smiled before offering, "Juice?"

         It seemed that Amandla wasn't the only who was confused by the offer as Hermione gave her a frown and Ron looked with wary eyes. "Sure..." he apprehensively agreed.

         And as Harry was pouring the drink, Luna Lovegood arrived with a hat that looked like a large lion. "Hello, everyone," she greeted, "You look dreadful, Ron."

         Ron gave her a nervous smile before bringing the drink to his lips, about to sip when Luna turned to Harry and asked, "Is that why you just put something in his cup. Is it a tonic?"

         "Don't drink that, Ron!" Hermione commanded, him too looking at the palm of Harry's hand which held the opened bottle of Felix Felicis. Quickly, he drank the rest of his drink. "You could be expelled for that."

         "Dunno what you're talking about," Harry winked at Luna discreetly, though Amandla saw it.

         Feeling more confident, Ron rose with a smile and said, "C'mon, Harry. We've got a game to win."

         The other three stood up, following when Luna called Amandla back. "Have you heard from Copernicus lately? He hasn't been speaking to me."

         Amandla gulped. Telling the truth earlier didn't help her at all, so why not give a little white lie? It wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? "Sorry, I haven't," and the Fitzgerald girl went back to Hermione who interlocked their hands.

         Again, it seemed like time stilled for a moment before Amandla realized she should probably keep moving and not just stand there like a fucking idiot. Hermione held her hand the whole walk to the pitch, never letting it go for a moment until they were in the stands.

         Amandla swore that if she died then, she would die a happy woman – she wasn't wrong.

―

         Gryffindor won the game. It wasn't a surprise, they were definitely better than the other team playing, but still a celebration occurred. Normally, it was strictly house only, the parties, seeing as they were held in the common room. Though, Amandla was invited to the party by Hermione, whom she had lost after going to get a snack.

         The thing was about Gryffindors is they were more open to drinking than other houses. Amandla couldn't imagine seeing Hufflepuffs having Firewhiskey or anything at a party. They saw butterbeer as crazy, seeing as some of them had to go all the way into Hogsmeade to get it.

         (Actually, that really wasn't true – they brought muggle soda as well. That was a real treat.)

         So Amandla wasn't all too sad to lose Hermione when she had alcohol to replace her, and to replace the guilt growing inside her. With just one sip, she was gone and had to finish the whole cup. Then another one after that. She just kept thinking about Cevira and how the girl was hurt by her and the lies, the secrets, the everything.

         She knew how insecure Cevira was. She always thought herself second best because that's how she was treated growing up – Amandla knew that, yet she still became another Caesar. She still pushed Cevira always, put her blood-related family first and sometimes forgot that she had a sister – she had Cevira. And she knew that Corey coming to her first just confirmed those feelings again. She shouldn't have said anything, keeping quiet would've been better. That way no one would be hurt. Let Corey come to her and she would never know that the other two friends had been communicating first.

         Another sip. Tasted better than some of the other liquor she found in the kitchen.

         Amandla saw Ron kissing Lavender and a giggle escaped her lips. Normally, that wouldn't be a thing. If she were clear-headed – sober – she would think about how this was probably hurting Hermione or something but she was mildly intoxicated and everything was just so funny and victorious for her. Because maybe now Hermione would move on and look at her – not Ron. She would treat her better, she would!

         She covered her mouth, tripping slightly before catching herself, giggling more at that. There were a lot more people and then she saw Harry leave the stairwell and that sparked an idea in Amandla's mind. Placing the cup, which was half empty, onto the nearest table she could find, Amandla went to the stairwell to hear quiet sobbing. Turning the corner, she realized that it was Hermione who was crying.

         "Hello," she made herself known, causing Hermione to look up.

         "Amandla," she began to wipe her tears and sniffle, "What are you doing here?"

         "I saw – I saw Harry leave so I decided to come in here," slurring slightly and stumbling, she sat down on the stairs beside Hermione.

         "Oh," the Granger girl let out.

         Amandla hummed, nodding her head before asking, "What are you doing out here?"

         "I just needed some fresh air – some time to think, really," Hermione explained, silent for a moment before asking, "Amandla, do you think it's foolish of me to still want Ron even though he's snogging Lavender at this very moment?"

         ("Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" they were cheering inside the common room.)

         Amandla pouted, "I don't think that's foolish – I think that's human. But what do I know? I've been pining over the same damn person for years and they've never even battled an eyelash at me!"

         Hermione nodded, "I guess I understand. A little, maybe."

         There was silence for a moment as Amandla just admired how beautiful the girl before her looked, even though there were tears stains on her cheeks, "You're very pretty, Hermione."

         "Amandla, are you drunk?" Hermione asked her slowly.

         "...no. Well, not really...just a little tipsy," Amandla flashed her teeth as she giggled again.

         "Well, that's very kind of you anyways, but I don't think you should be saying things like that," Hermione said, and it felt like rejection – stung like it anyways.

         "Why not?" Amandla pouted again (sober Amandla would never do this), "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

         "You can't – you just can't say things like this to me, alright?"

         "But you look so beautiful, I can't help myself. You deserve to know," Amandla smiled.

         She didn't know what she was doing – didn't know the dilemma that was happening inside of Hermione either. She liked Ron, she did, but something just kept drawing her to Amandla. And the girl wouldn't remember any of it tomorrow, right? So this wouldn't matter. In a matter of seconds, Hermione had grabbed her cheeks and brought her into a slow and passionate kiss.

         For a second, Amandla was too shocked to respond. But then she did, she was comprehending what was happening and she brought her own hands to Hermione's hair, tugging slightly. This was exactly what she dreamed about and more – better than any dream could ever be. Because her lips were so soft and hands gentle on her cheeks, and it felt like Hermione was kissing her as if she were made of glass, careful not to break her. Quickly, she was melting into the kiss and it was consuming her every thought. HermioneHermioneHermione.

         Hermione's hands were lowering to, going over her cladded breast, causing Amandla to gasp, the Granger girl took this as the chance to slip her tongue into the other girl's mouth – not that she was complaining. And suddenly Hermione's hands were under the hem of her shirt, touching her skin and moving up more to her bra.

         It was at that moment that Amandla had to pull away for a breath, "Do you – upstairs?"

         Hermione nodded, "Everyone will crash in the common room anyways."

         She was tugging at Amandla's arm, racing up the stairs until they were in her bedroom and she was pushed onto Hermione's bed. Suddenly, her shirt was pulled off her head and the Granger girl was unhooking her bra.

         Amandla remembered every moment of that night. Every gentle touch, every kiss, and the way that Hermione was just so gentle – the way she tasted, the way she looked beneath her, and the way her eyes never left Amandla's.

         It was bliss; it was intoxicating. Sadly, these light moments didn't last. But of course they didn't; they never could.

I'm so sorry. honestly, forgive me father for I have sinned.