𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
chapter eleven; Eighteen Candles
" You're a lucky charm, Gerard. "

  DOTTIE AND SALEM hadn't spoken in two days. This was easily the longest they'd gone without talking since a fight in fourth year in which Dottie didn't tell Salem she wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas and left the redhead in the dust on pure accident.

  When they finally did speak, it was as Salem was retreating to her dorm after leaving another note for James— his response was in her pocket for now, soon to be transferred to the box at her occupation, and hers was tucked nicely beneath the corner of a chessboard.

  He was so damn cocky, it annoyed her. That without knowing who she was, James had claimed her as his mystery, but a part of her liked being a mystery. Being a girl was exhausting, it was a nice break to be an ambiguous question mark. 

  And then he'd mentioned Lily. Salem had been waiting, and she hadn't expected it so soon, and no matter how close she'd grown with the girl, Salem knew this was what she was meant for. To talk about Lily, to help James accept his feelings so that he may open up to his friends; and she spent nearly twenty minutes on a response.

  And, naturally, the entire way back to her dorm Salem overthought the words until they didn't feel like actual English, and only then did Dottie speak to her.

  "Hi."

  "Hey," Salem said in slight shock, "Dot, I am. . . so sorry. For yelling at you." 

  "I don't want to talk about it," Dottie said with a small smile, "We. . . disagree. So what. You're my best friend. I overstepped and you overreacted."

  "Yeah, but you're my best friend," Salem repeated with a small laugh, "It's your job to overstep and tell me when I'm being an idiot."

  "You want to tell Roman?"

  "I don't know," Salem shrugged, pulling her arms around herself, "I don't know. It's difficult. He's funny and nice and cares about me. . . but he doesn't know I'm his daughter— he thinks I'm just some kid, you know? It hurts a little."

  "It would be difficult for anyone," Dottie assured quietly, reaching out to hold Salem's hand. "Anyway, I'm sure you're aware of what next Friday is—"

  "Dot," Salem whined.

  "You're turning 18," Dottie defended, "This is, like, the last big thing until you're, like, 20."

  Salem stared boredly.

  "What do you want to do?"

  "We'll eat cake," Dottie grinned, "And watch Quidditch because it's a Gryffindor versus Slytherin that day, and you have a boyfriend that leads the team—"

  "And we're back to joking about Potter," Salem laughed, "You know. . . they apologized to me. A couple of days ago."

  "What?"

  "All of them," The redhead nodded, "Sirius looked. . . like he actually had a conscience."

  "He may surprise us just yet," She smiled.

  "I wouldn't get my hopes up," Salem sighed into a laugh, "I'm glad you don't hate me, Dot."

  "Ah, I could never hate my Sal-Bear," Dottie gushed, pinching Salem's cheek dramatically.

  Salem swatted at her hands, but allowed the girl to hook an arm around her shoulders and wander back to their dorm, bumping due to the slight height difference but neither complained or readjusted one bit.

⥊

  The stands were packed. Lions versus Snakes always yielded the biggest, rowdiest crowds; and right in the center of the red and gold sat Salem and Dottie. 

  Contrary to popular belief, Salem had a lot of pride in her house. They were the best, clearly, in every aspect. But the one that mattered most at the moment was Quidditch. Salem could believe whatever she wanted about James Potter but the simple fact stood unwavering; he had put together a kick-ass team.

  "Potter has the quaffle," Salem announced to Dottie loudly, grabbing the girl's arm in excitement, "He's going to score—"

  "You should be the bloody announcer," Dottie mumbled to herself.

  "Oh, no, no," Salem mumbled, "Springs is going to catch the snitch before— we'll lose!"

  Springs was a thin boy at the age of 13, and Salem swore she could see his fingers skimming the snitch from her seat.

  "Come on, Potter!" Salem shouted at the top of her lungs, and in some miraculous turn of events, James made the goal milliseconds before Springs caught the snitch— ending the game in Gryffindor's favor, "Yes!"

  Dottie laughed heartily as Salem cheered and pulled her into a hug, the celebratory manner through the rough throughout all the Gryffindors. 

  The girls let every other participant in the crowd flood out before even attempting to depart, it was too packed to push and shove to the exit.

  "I've got to work in an hour," Salem sighed, pulling her scarf off of her neck as she and Dottie began to cross the Pitch back towards the castle.

  "Sad," Dottie frowned, "We'll have ice cream, or cake, after, yeah?"

  "Of course."

  "Gerard!"

  The redhead furrowed her brows but craned her neck to see James running towards her and away from the rest of the Marauders. She halted, though the confusion never faded.

  "Potter."

  "Didn't think I'd ever hear you cheer for me," He smiled out of breath.

  Salem turned an impressive shade of rose at this, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear that the wind had blow harshly.

  "I, uh, didn't think you'd hear that."

  "Hey, I appreciated it," James said sincerely, patting his chest, "You won us the game."

  "No, I was in the stands while you did that," She laughed in question.

  "You're a lucky charm, Gerard," He pointed, grinning, before looking to Dottie, "You've both got to show up to every Gryffindor game— without you two we'll lose."

  "I think you're exaggerating—"

  "'Course he's not," Sirius laughed as he joined the trio, "Ruddy never would've won if it wasn't for Sal's encouragement."

  Salem found herself shocked at the charming smile Sirius tossed her way.

  "Well, you're welcome," Dottie said once realizing Salem had been rendered speechless, "But we should go— Sal has work and I have to plan another birthday activity—"

  "It's your birthday?" James asked Dottie with wide eyes.

  "No, it's Sal's," Dottie said slowly, "You alright, James?"

  For some reason, the boy deflated at this. He gave Sirius a slight shake of the head, which made this boy's brows furrow in confusion.

  "We have to go, too," Sirius agreed, "Uh, I'll see you later, Gerard?"

  "In Potions, perhaps. . ." Salem trailed off, "Bye. . . Sirius. Potter."

  The girls left before James moved, and that was when Sirius began the onslaught of questions.

  "How do you know it's not her— we didn't get the handwriting sample yet, prongs, have faith—!"

  "Mystery Girl's only ever called me 'Potter'," James said, shaking his head, "It's not Dottie."

  "That's a minor thing!"

  "It's all minor things with Mystery Girl," He argued, "It matters."

  "Don't give up until the handwriting comparison," Sirius encouraged, clapping a hand on James' shoulder, "Alright?"

  ". . . Fine."

  "That's what I like to hear!"

⥊

  To be fair to him, Roman Mayes only discovered it was Salem's birthday halfway into her shift. He was appalled at the news and demanded she take the rest of the day off, but not leave before he and Rosmerta mixed up a cake for her.

  So Salem, changed out of her uniform and back into comforting muggle clothes, hunched over the bar and watched Roman and Rosmerta argue as they attempted to arrange 18 candles on a small, sprinkled cake.

  "That'll fall off—"

  "No, no, it's fine, Rosy," Roman mumbled, swatting at her hand, "Just light them—"

  "No, it'll fall off and light us on fire—"

  "Oh, just light them!"

  Rosmerta hit the back of Roman's head before lighting the candles, encouraging Salem to blow them out quickly. The girl laughed, propping her chin up and shutting her eyes, she blew out the candles without a wish and chuckled again when Rosmerta quickly removed the candles.

  And then the doors swung open with vigor, and a startled Dottie Fitzgerald stood in the empty doorway.

  "Sal," Dottie said quickly, a complete disregard for the two adults startled by her entrance, "Someone told McGonagall you're working here and she's on her way— you can't properly get in trouble for it but she knows about. . ." The girl awkwardly gestured to Roman, "—So you'll be getting a hell of a lecture."

  "Wait, what—"

  "Who told her?" Salem asked, cutting off Roman quickly, "What the hell— I don't need a lecture—"

  "Ms. Gerard," Minerva McGonagall greeted as she entered the Three Broomsticks, eyeing the place narrowly.

  Roman Mayes stood straighter as the woman approached the cluster of people, clearing his throat he spoke, "Professor— Miss—"

  "Oh, don't strain yourself for formalities, Roman," McGonagall sighed.

  "Used to it, I suppose," Roman admitted, scratching the back of his neck with a laugh, "Can i get you anything, Minerva?"

  "No, that's alright," She declined, setting sights on the birthday girl, "I'd just like a word with your newest employee."

  "She's all yours."

  Salem pulled her coat off a stand as McGonagall started for the door, the redhead managing to tug it and a hat on before the February air hit them fully.

  "How'd you know?"

  "Professor Dumbledore informed me of your relation to Mr. Mayes," McGonagall answered evenly, "And that you'd begun working at the Three Broomsticks. I doubted this was a coincidence."

  Salem looked to her feet, kicking the snow turned slush that lined the streets of Hogsmeade. She didn't want to make eye contact, as Salem knew damn well the woman was disappointed.

  "I also doubt that this has been a well thought out plan, Ms. Gerard," McGonagall continued.

  "Why do you care?" Salem asked out of frustration, "I'm not getting into trouble, isn't that all you're meant to do? As a professor and head of house? Make sure your students don't get into trouble— well all clear here, I'm just working—"

  "And to look out for their wellbeing," She cut off swiftly, "And this is no longer a matter of my job; I've well passed what is expected of me before, with you in particular."

  Salem frowned and shoved her hands into her coat pockets, watching the woman's face soften.

  "I don't believe it's fair, to anyone involved."

  "Are you going to make me march in there and tell Roman?" Salem asked, "There's no way to do it, Professor— "Hi, I know I lied about my name at first and it's strange that I've worked here for three weeks and we've established a relationship already, but you're actually the father I've been searching for since I was 12." It won't go very well."

  "I don't suppose I have to," McGonagall mumbled, her eyes focused just behind Salem.

  The girl, confused as ever, turned and swore she heard her heart drop to her feet. Roman Mayes stood with a shocked expression, his nose rosy from the cold showed he'd been standing long enough to know more than Salem would've wanted.

  And all at once, Salem's life came crashing down around her.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
dun dun duuuuuuun
cliffhanger, no one hate me!