Cored

Chapter 23: Grown Up

Katherine woke up early the next morning to Corliss tapping on the window. It was still dark out, but Katherine trundled over to let her in.

"Sorry, the wind must have blown it shut," she said, trailing her fingers over the soft brown feathers. The bird seemed to believe her apology, shifting sleepily under Katherine's hand. Katherine picked her up and took her to the cage where she quickly drifted off.

Katherine stood at the window and wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Diagon Alley was fun with its vibrant crowds and tall buildings, but the bustle had begun to feel stifling. Even on her own in the apartment, she craved the space of the hills near Ottery St. Catchpole. She knew she shouldn't try, but . . .

She felt the magic slide down under her leggings to her socked feet and give a sudden tug at her core. And, like she had done with George or McGonagall, she spun away.

She breathed the fresh air deeply before opening her eyes, worried suddenly she might have not landed where she expected. But she was right back in her clearing, the grass swaying softly in the breeze. She wished she had thought to pick up her backpack, missing her reliable blanket. She readjusted her hair bun, letting it sit loosely on top of her head as she sat on the grass and listened to the rumbling sounds of the sleeping world around her.

Letting the magic out of her felt good, but this was more peaceful than she had felt since having to leave the muggle world. This was the pause button she always craved. She didn't even have to hold the magic down; it had curled itself up for a nap in her stomach. She did nudge just a little bit of it free to make the ground radiate a gentle heat beneath her. She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, cradling her face in her palms.

This was the kind of lonely that didn't make her sad or anxious. This was the kind of solitude that was security—the knowledge that no one could steal her peace by forcing her to choose between worlds or questioning her motives or pushing her to delve into who she was. This was just her and the earth enjoying each other's company.

She watched the beginning of the sunrise, but reluctantly pulled herself back to the apartment before she risked George finding she was gone. This was just hers, and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her it was dangerous.

She had just gotten out of the shower when George knocked on the door with her coffee. Her wet hair clung to her favorite dark green cardigan.

"Is there a way to get a coffee maker in here so you don't have to bring me take away every morning?"

"You don't like it?" George asked, a flash of hurt crossing his eyes.

"No, I love it," she said quickly. "I just don't want you to have to go out of your way. And then I can drink it throughout the day, you know?"

George nodded. "I think we have an extra one in the back downstairs. I'll clean it and bring it up with some grounds."

"Thanks," Katherine said. "You don't have to work today, do you?"

"No, Angelina and I have some chor—"

A loud, syncopated knock cut him off. George went over to investigate, finding his little sister in the doorway.

"It's Sunday morning, George, what are you doing here?" Ginny asked, walking in and shrugging off her coat.

"I could ask you the same thing," the man said, taking her jacket and hanging it by the door. She set a big tote bag on a free chair at the table.

"I came to ask Katherine if she had any interest in a girl's day."

"A girl's day?" Katherine asked, intrigued.