✔️ 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄 → 𝑠. 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

09 | F L I G H T

   "Where have you been?"

   "I missed you too, father", Margo mumbled, stepping out of the Fudge's fireplace. Her father had been sitting in his old teal coloured leather armchair, but raised out of his seat the moment she appeared in a haze of green flames.

   "Margo Adelaide Fudge, I was dying from sorrow!", Cornelius Fudge seethed, his eyebrows furrowed to a knitted line.

   Margo on the other hand looked at him in doubt. "Yes, seems like. Did you look for me behind the pages of the newspaper?"

   "This isn't funny at all, Margo! Did you know just how scared I was?", Fudge barked. "Weasley came to my office, telling me you're resigning, and then you were just gone for three damn months! Three months, Margo! No lifesign, nothing!"

   "Well, here I am", she dryly replied. "But don't get used to it, I'm just here to get some of my stuff and write to a friend, then I'm gone."

   "What do you mean, gone?"

   "Charlie offered me a job in Romania."

   "Who the hell is Charlie?"

   "Percy's brother."

   "Who's Percy?"

   Margo rolled her eyes. "Your junior minister ..."

   "You won't go to Romania!", Fudge snapped, after it finally had dropped what Margo had just told him. "We discussed this once, I won't discuss it a second time!"

   "There's no need to discuss, father", Margo sighed. "I'm old enough to make decisions on my own. I want to go to Romania, and I will go to Romania."

   Cornelius Fudge was furiously looking at his daughter. "Don't you dare, Margo! You're the Minister's daughter! What will people think if you're running away just like that? It took a lot of effort to keep your latest absence a secret!"

   "If that's all you care about, what people may think?", Margo hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Maybe you should finally face what really matters, father! There's a war about to come, and all you care about is your prestige. Imagine what people will say when they found out you're calmly sitting in your armchair with your eyes closed for reality, while our society is on a downward spiral to its own decease!"

   "You were with Dumbledore, I assume?", Fugde spat, the vein on his temple pulsing.

   "You'd wonder who I was with", Margo scoffed, opening her trunk. "See, let's make this quick. I usually had planned to stay a while here before I leave, but to be honest I can't deal with your stubbornness right now."

   "How do you dare talking to me like that?" He took a step closer to his daughter, who'd waved her wand to silently summon her belongings.

   "You can't close your eyes to everything happening lately", she plainly replied, watching her trunk being filled. "Sooner or later you'll have to face the truth, father. Better now, before it's too late."

   "He is not back!", the minister hissed through gritted teeth, while Margo's trunk snapped close.

   "And I'm gone", Margo muttered. "Goodbye, father." And with a crack, she vanished.

·

   "Would you just tell me what happened?", Remus said, still flustered staring at Sirius.

   "Nothing", Sirius muttered, turning around to leave the kitchen, but still feeling his friend's eyes glued to his back.

   "Oh, of course she stormed out of here because everything was totally fine", Remus sarcastically replied. "So what have you done? I thought you get along with Margo pretty fine."

   "Oh, we perfectly got along", Sirius scoffed, still his back turned to Remus. "At least a bit too perfect. That's why we decided it's better for her to leave Grimmauld Place."

   "What — do you —" But his voice died for a moment, just to return in utter disbelief. "Oh no. Oh Sirius, you haven't! Please tell me you haven't!"

   Slowly he turned around and shrugged. "Then I won't tell you I have", Sirius sighed.

   "She's too young!"

   "That's what I told her."

   "She's the minister's daughter!"

   "Funny, I told her same as well." Sirius snorted a joyless laughter. "But that wasn't what she wanted to hear. So she got a bit mad and now she's obviously playing with dragons."

   "I shouldn't wonder", Remus groaned, rubbing his temples. "Handling women never was your speciality event."

   Sirius rolled his eyes, returning to the kitchen table. "Hey, I'm just amazing in handling woman!" He sat down onto the nearest chair, flicked his wand and a bottle of Firewhiskey landed in his outstretched hand. "I didn't made this decision, because I wanted to. I thought it was best for her to never fall for the idea of her and me. Or me at all."

   "Wait, wait, wait!" Remus sunk into a chair, too. "May I get a few more details?"

   Sirius lips curled into a defeated smile. "Oh Moony, so many things went wrong in that story, you wouldn't even believe it if you've witnessed from the very start. Let's leave it with the knowledge that she's much better of being out of this house."

·

    Margo just didn't know where to go until she would receive an answer from Charlie. Under no circumstances she would return to Grimmauld Place. But if she'd show up at the Burrow, she had to face questions. Staying with her father was out of question. So Margo apparated to the first place that came to her mind.

   The small appartement was in the middle of London. To not appear out of nothing in the middle of the crowded street, Margo choose the backyard. Dumpsters and bags filled with trash streamed a smell that got her close to throwing up. Up lifting her head towards the sky, she detected a small balcony covered with a thousand plants in the middle of the grey walls surrounding it. And Margo started climbing the fire ladder, her trunk levitating next to her, until the smell eased, replaced by the scent of flowers the closer she got to the aimed green square of a paradise.

   So if there was a person in this world understanding the whole misery Margo got herself in, it was Audrey. Even though they hadn't regularly met or wrote ever since they graduated, Margo could always count on her best friend ever since. So coming here was the only logical result. So with the first smile since hours, Margo stretched out her hand to knock on the window — and froze in motion, the air caught in her windpipe.

   Audrey wasn't alone. This was nothing new. Margo's best friend was always in company. But this company was hitting Margo like a fist in the guts.

   Audrey's long blonde hair was all Margo could see of her best friend. The rest was covered by a guy; tall, worn-out trousers, an old sweaterwest covering his back, and Audrey's one hand held onto black rimmed glasses, while the other one was burried in a bunch of flaming red messy curls.