A/n: I've removed all but two lines ofthe song lyricsin this chapter. I hated doing it, but with new rules... grumbles
Heir of the phoenix:Fate
Prologue, part I: Genevieve Hansen, 12 years before
Being crazy wasn't something that Genevieve Hansen relished.
Unfortunately for her, her best friend Angela loved and worshiped insanity and being spontaneous. Their friends and family often wondered how the two got along. They were at opposite ends of the personality spectrum. Night and Day was a common description for them.
Genevieve was the quiet type who preferred curling up with a book or playing her clarinet. Angela was the popular party animal/Drama queen (Although you could not say the latter to her face and hope to get away un-injured,), who went through boyfriends like one went through tissues when they had a cold.
Therefore, when Angela showed up on her doorstep at 10:00pm on a Friday night, crying her head off, Genevieve wasn't very surprised.
"Ohh, what's wrong Angie!" cried Genevieve, helping her friend to the large, plush couch that graced her living room.
"It's Rick...he dumped me!" sniffed Angela, her lip trembling pathetically. "I don't know why though... I thought he was the sweetest guy on Earth! We were going to get married and have three kids!"
With that, she started bawling. A light bulb went off in Genevieve's head. "Hey... Rick wasn't the guy who caught you kissing that other guy... was he?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, but that kiss didn't mean anything, I was just having some fun!" wailed Angela, her tears renewed.
"And you've been dating this guy for how long?" Genevieve had given up trying to keep up with her best friend's love life. It made her feel better, considering she hadn't been on a date for nearly eight months.
"Two weeks! The longest in over a year!"
Genevieve's eyebrows hit her hairline.
"I thought he was Mr. Right! He was sooo perfect, but now I know he's just a sleaze out for getting into a girl's pants!" continued Angela, blubbering.
Genevieve's eyebrows went higher, if that was possible.
Going into sympathy mode, she went into the kitchen, made some raspberry tea, and brought out some German chocolates that she kept for events like this.
When she came back out into the living room she handed Angie her tea and sat down next to her and patted her back.
"Oh Genie, you're the best friend ever!" cried Angela, another wave of tears cascading how her cheeks.
There were a few moments of silence while Angela continued sniffling.
"What should we do to get your mind off this?" asked Genevieve, getting ready to prescribe a few days of chick flick marathons.
Angela coming sobbing on her doorstep happened often, almost every odd week. By the 34th time (Genie had been counting) they had established a pattern, Genevieve doubted that Angela noticed it, but it was there. Angela would be over Rick within three days and back on the dating scene by the fourth.
Instead of wailing, "Oh, I'll never forget ..." (Fill in blank) Angela did something she didn't normally do.
"Let's go clubbing!"
Genevieve froze. What the hell did she just say? No no no no...
"You can wear that cute new dress you have and I can do your hair and you can do mine and we can go have fun!"
Angela was on a roll, and nothing could stop her, although Genevieve did try.
She grabbed Genevieve by the arm and dragged her, protesting, to her bedroom and started rummaging through her closet, throwing various outfits onto the bed.
"Angela! You know I can't dance in public!" cried Genevieve, sheet white.
"You play that clarinet of yours in public!" retorted Angela, her voice muffled.
"That's different! When your sitting in an orchestra, no one can tell it's you playing!"
"Angela! I'm not going out tonight!"
"Oh yes you are, we're going to go have fun and damn Rick to hell! Here, put this on..."
With that, she handed her a dress and shoved Genevieve into the bathroom. Through the door, she could hear Genevieve wail, "I'm not wearing THIS!"
"Yes you are!"
"But it's yours!"
"You borrowed it!"
"For a masquerade party, where no one could tell it was me!"
"Yes, because it was YOUR dress"
"Just put it on!"
Genevieve sighed; she wasn't going to win this time. She pulled on the strappy number and peered into the mirror. The deep blue color of the dress matched her sparkling eyes and flowed down to her shins. Her long curly chestnut hair was waist length and free, causing it to bounce whenever she turned her head.
With an aura of dread, she walked out of the bathroom.
"OH MY GOSH, you look gorgeous!" cried Angela.
"No I don't! This dress is WAY too revealing!" squeaked Genevieve "At least let me wear the shawl that I had for the party!"
"No! And that dress is not too revealing,"
"Yes it is!"
"YES, and let's stop this before we both turn blue!" Genevieve screeched. Angela blinked in surprise at Genevieve's outburst, before popping back into her normal happy mood.
"Okay" said Angela "Now lets go!" She grabbed her purse and Genie's and hauled her loudly protesting friend out the door. A few minutes later, they were sitting in Angela's bright yellow car, cruising towards The Palm Tree, a popular club in downtown London.
Genevieve was moaning to herself. She hated dancing and crowds. Just like Angela to drag her into something she didn't want to do. How on Earth could they be best friends?
Maybe because you guys have known each other since birth, maybe because she saved your life, maybe because she was the only one who would talk to "grubby nerdy Genie" in school... Maybe because she's always there for you even when she's being annoying. Genevieve's mind told her darkly.
She resigned herself to a night of a unique form of torture.
Angela noticed her dark mood and laughed.
"It won't be that bad you know! We dance, we drink, we hook up with some hot guys, and go home!" She said cheerfully.
Genevieve sighed. As much as Angela could read her mind and understand her, one thing that Angela didn't understand was the shyness. She didn't see a reason for it and often ignored the fact that Genevieve could barely bring herself to speak to strangers, except on rare occasions.
When they got to the club, Genevieve refused to get out of the car. Angela brought out her hidden guns.
"If you don't get out, I won't tell you where I hid your clarinet."
"WHAT!" screeched Genevieve, launching herself out of the car towards her friend's throat. Angela quickly slammed the car door and locked it before Genie realized that she had been had.
"Where did you put it!" cried Genie, flailing at the shorter woman's neck.
"No where" replied Angela, grinning, "It's still on its stand in your den."
"What... Oh... Angela!" Genevieve slumped. How can she always pull that me? I bloody well fall for it every time... hook, line and sinker...
"Come on now!"
Genevieve held up her hands in defeat.
"Fine, you win Angie."
Genevieve couldn't help but laugh at Angela's random cheerfulness, considering she had been dumped less than two hours before.
Angela grabbed Genie's arm and led up to the entrance of the place. Waving their ID's at the bouncer, they went inside. Genevieve had been here twice before, once on a girl's night out and once again on Angie's 22nd birthday two years ago, the first time she had drank too much beer and passed out on one of the sofa's, That had been the first time she had drank more than a glass of anything alcoholic. It was not an experience that she cared to repeat.
For Angie's birthday, she had been the designated driver, hadn't touched a drop of the vile thing called alcohol and stood in the corner, fending off desperate males and wanting to disappear.
Once they were in the club and the pounding music had greeted them, Angela was snapped up by a guy right away. Genie snorted. Typical.
Men never noticed her the way she wanted them too. They never noticed her music or her 'smarts' as Angie called it. All they noticed was her body. She had been blessed (cursed?) to be pretty.
She wandered over to the bar and sat down in a corner. The barman didn't even notice her in the gloom.
Suddenly the music changed from a slow song... Celine Dion? She wondered to absently herself to a faster paced song. Dancing Queen, by ABBA. Her favorite song.
Genevieve Hansen could dance. She just hated doing in front of other people. Angie knew that from when they were little and they stole her older sister, Margaret's records and danced around the Hansen's living room.
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen...
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen...
Genevieve decided that she couldn't resist temptation. It was her favorite song after all and no one besides Angela knew her.
Finding a quiet spot on the floor, she went into concert mode and forgot that anyone else was there. She began to dance.
Within seconds, Genevieve was totally into it, unaware of the several eyes watching her. Angela was recovering from shock. She'd never seen her best friend this free and wild in a public place.
As the chorus came on, Genevieve felt someone come up behind her and begin dancing with her. Against her better judgment, she grinded into his hips. Whoever this guy was, he was a good dancer. He felt nice too.
Themusic faded almost too quickly andshe turned to face her silent dance partner. A tall handsome man was standing there. His intense emerald eyes bore into her blue ones. He had untidy I-Just-rolled-out of-bed black hair that hung over his eyes slightly. He was wearing dark jeans and a green button down shirt that matched his eyes and emphasized his chiseled body. Over all he was damn sexy. Angela would be jealous. Very Jealous.
Genevieve knew she couldn't waste an opportunity like this.
He gave her a heart stopping lop-sided grin.
"Want a drink?" he asked, his green eyes twinkling in the strobe lights. Genevieve tried to guess how old he was. Not much older than she, of that, she was sure.
"Sure..." she answered faintly, smiling.
He took her hand and lead her to the bar.
"Two beers please" he requested of the barman, forking over a few pound notes.
They sat down next to each other.
Finally Genevieve couldn't take it anymore.
"What's your name?" she blurted.
The man paused and smiled. "The name's Harry, what's yours?"
"What do you do?" Genie asked curiously.
The man-Harry-jerked slightly and went into deep thought.
"I'm in law enforcement, but I'm thinking about teaching." he answered slowly.
Genevieve felt her mood brighten. She was a kindergarten teacher, she loved little kids.
They began too talk and several hours (and drinks) later, Harry (who wasn't exactly himself, due to the beer, but still was quite amiable and attracted to the beautiful Genevieve.) stood up and grinned at her and asked
"So... you want to go to my place or yours?"
Genevieve smiled and hiccupped slightly.
"Maybe mine?" she replied, giggling.
Prologue, part II: Harry, 12 years before
Harry Potter ran his hand through his messy black hair; He sat at a table in the back of The Palm Tree.
He smiled inwardly at why he was here, Hermione had got him and Ron addicted to muggle clubbing. The Palm Tree was one of their favorite places to hang out and dance. He could see the two of them dancing through the crowd. Ron and Hermione had been dating since the end of their seventh year and Ron had recently asked Hermione to marry him.
Personally, Harry liked muggle clubs better, no one recognized him. At wizarding clubs, as soon as word got out that the great Harry Potter was in 'da club, he was swamped by women who wanted to dance and do...other things. He hated the attention. In muggle clubs, he could sit in the back and watch people dance.
The music was loud and pounding. Harry leaned back, closed his eyes, and absorbed the rhythm. Several minutes passed.
Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and opened his eyes. Ron was standing there grinning. His red hair flashed oddly in the strobe lights
"You taking a nap?" he asked in an amused tone of voice.
"Nope" answered Harry, laughing.
Ron took a seat.
"Where's Hermione?" asked Harry
"Getting drinks, I offered... but...erhm...remember last time?"
Last time Ron had tried to get drinks with muggle money had ended rather disastrously; Ron had accidentally given the barman a five-pound note when he was asked for a ten pound. The end result was that the barman felt cheated and kicked Ron out.
The two of them laughed at the memory. Hermione didn't quite trust Ron with muggle money anymore.
Through the crowd Hermione appeared, clutching three beers and her purse.
"Hi guys," she said cheerfully, passing around the drinks.
Harry sipped his while Ron threw his back. Hermione watched this with amusement.
"That is one sure fire hangover you're going to get tomorrow Ron." She said mildly. "How many have you had already?"
"Six, but I feel fine," He answered, his voice was only slightly slurred.
Hermione raised an eyebrow and mouthed to Harry 'ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two...one.'
Ron keeled over and began to snore.
Harry felt his eyes widen. Hermione shrugged.
"As much as he loves the stuff, Molson Canadian doesn't agree with magic." She said lightly, shaking her head.
"Oh," replied Harry, still giving his best friend an odd look.
"I'd better take him home. Good night Harry" she discreetly pulled out her wand and silently cast a charm on Ron that made him lighter. She hauled Ron to his feet and his head flopped on her shoulder. Hermione guided the passed-out Ron across the dance floor and out the club's front entrance.
Harry watched them go with a sigh.
Then he saw her.
Two women had just come into the club, the first one had short, stylish blond hair and brown eyes and was wearing a red mini dress with a black coat, and she was all but dragging another woman.
The second woman had waist length curly chestnut hair and sparkling blue eyes, she was wearing a flowing blue dress that brought out her pretty eyes.
Eyes that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here.
He watched as the first woman was snagged by a man to go dance. The second woman looked extremely uncomfortable.
She looked around for a while, then wandered over to the bar and sat in the shadows. Harry watched her with fascination; it had been awhile since he had seen someone who completely deserved the term 'eye-candy'.
He watched her for two songs. She didn't notice him, nor did she pay attention to anyone at all.
Soon a fast song with a good beat came on. He remembered Hermione telling him once that it was called "Dancing Queen".
He watched as the shy woman's personality evaporated, she seemed entranced by the music. She left the bar, walked to a corner of the dance floor and began to dance.
One thing was for sure: She was a hell of a dancer.
Finally, Harry couldn't stand it anymore, he got up and walked up to the woman, He began to dance with her, He didn't know why.
When the song ended, She turned to him. Her large dark blue eyes watched his emerald ones. She was the type that you shouldn't let escape from you, that much he could tell. So, He did what any sensible guy would do.
"Want a drink?"
She looked a bit startled.
"Sure." she said quietly, a shy smile on her face.
Harry took her hand and led her over to the bar.
"Two beers please" he asked the barman, fishing a couple of pounds out of his pocket. The barman returned with their drinks and Harry paid him.
Handing the beautiful woman her drink, he took a sip.
"What's your name?" she blurted.
"The name's Harry, what's yours?"
'A beautiful name for a beautiful woman' thought Harry. Why was he feeling like this? It took a lot for him to fall for someone. Something just seemed to tell him to not let her get away.
"What do you do?" She asked, sipping the beer politely.
Harry froze. 'I can't just go off and tell her I'm an Auror! She's a muggle!' he said sarcastically to himself in his head.
"I'm in law enforcement. But I'm thinking about teaching."
Harry was surprised that it slipped out of his mouth. He had never told anyone about his ambition to teach, not even Ron.
Harry noticed the woman- Genevieve- perked up at this.
"I teach kindergarten." She replied, "I love children"
"What else do you do?" He heard himself asking.
"Well... I play clarinet..."
Harry vaguely remembered hearing the muggle instrument being played at an assembly in his primary school, before he had even heard of Hogwarts. He had liked the low, warm sound of it.
"Interesting..." He replied, "I like sports"
"What type of sports?" she asked
Harry stopped himself just in time from saying 'Quidditch', Thinking quickly - He remembered Dean's favorite sport.
"Football" He answered quickly. Genevieve gave him a strange look.
"I'm no good at any sports, except skating and dancing, and even then..."
"You're a very good dancer!" blurted Harry. He found himself wondering why this woman made him so honest and open. It was starting to feel slightly weird.
Genevieve smiled shyly.
After several more hours of talk and drinks, Harry had a sudden impulse.
"So... You want to go to my place or yours?"
The little voice in the back of his head started yelling at him, but he ignored it. It wasn't really giving any real warnings, just a general 'that's not such a great idea' impression.
Genevieve looked faintly startled.
After a moments thought, she said, "Maybe mine?"
Bright light shone against Harry's closed eyes.
He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again, for the headache that had been faint until then jolted when he opened his eyes.
Gathering his reserve, he slowly opened his eyes again. The sight that he saw wasn't one that he expected.
Curled up against him was the woman from the club. He looked around him and saw that he was in a room not familiar to him. 'Probably her room.' He thought dryly. He was lying in her bed, naked.
That thought didn't sit well with him. Harry rolled onto his back and groaned. What had he and she been doing? He glanced at her sleeping form. It wasn't hard to guess, considering she was naked also.
He couldn't even remember her name. Gen.. Jean... Stupid hangover...
Harry sighed and sat up. Their clothing littered the floor, He couldn't remember much at all through his headache and hangover. He spotted his wand laying half hidden underneath his jeans.
Oh Merlin, he'd have a lot of explaining to do if she had woken up before him.
He silently crawled out of the bed and pulled on his clothes. Then he looked back at her. She looked quite sweet, hair spread out around her, sleeping there among the ruffled sheets, he caught himself thinking. He walked back over to the bed and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
Then he walked out into the hallway.
With a sharp 'CRACK', he disapparated.
Genevieve awoke with a clouded mind.
She moaned and rolled over onto her back, opening her eyes. Seeing her familiar ceiling, she sighed with relief.
Straining her memory, she could see a man with green eyes, but most things were fuzzed over by her headache.
Sitting up, Genevieve looked around.
He was gone.
"Ohh Nooo..." She moaned, flopping back down on the bed.
Genevieve sighed; it wasn't the end of the world. Was it?
Slowly Genie hauled herself out of bed and into the shower. After toweling herself off, she wrapped herself in a robe and padded into the kitchen, She fixed herself some scrambled eggs and ate slowly.
Then She heard the front door open.
"Genie?" called a familiar voice. Angela.
"Yah?" Genevieve called out.
"Okay, you're here." Angela appeared in the kitchen doorway. "When did you leave The Palm?" She asked
"I don't know" Not wanting Angie to start bugging and questioning her about the man, she continued "I was tired, so I took a cabbie home"
"So where were you?" Genie asked in an amused tone of voice.
"I was there till it closed."
A few weeks passed and the image of the man retracted itself into the back of her mind.
The school year started and she threw herself into her teaching, playing the clarinet for her class, teaching them numbers, letters, Colors, words.
It was a week into the school year when one day when she was reading a story to her class that she felt violently ill.
Throwing the book down and calling out to her class to be good and not to fight and that'd she be right back, She tore out of the classroom for the bathroom.
Reaching a girl's bathroom just in time, she flew into a stall and threw up her breakfast into the loo.
A small girl in fifth forum peered into the open stall.
"Are you alright Miss Hansen?"
Genevieve stood up shakily.
"I feel Ill. please go get the Headmistress."
"Alright" The girl chirped and skipped out of the girl's toilets. A few minutes later, she came back with Headmistress on her heels. They found Genevieve leaning over brother john throwing up some more.
"Thank you Suzy, you may go back to class now" Said the Headmistress, Doctor Anna Covington to the girl.
"Okay" And the girl left.
"Genevieve, are you alright?" Asked Anna, She and Genie had known each other for several years and respected each other a lot despite their great age differences.
"What does it look like?" said Genie weakly, "I feel like I'm going to expel my stomach!"
Doctor Covington nodded.
"Go home and rest till you get over this bug, I'll find a substitute teacher for your class."
Genie smiled slightly. "Thank you"
"On second thought, I'll get Miss Desmond to drive you home, considering that you look like you're in no condition to drive..."
About fifteen minutes later, Genevieve was curled up in her bathroom at home with some pillows, the phone and a blanket. Her throwing up was so severe that she couldn't safely leave the tiny tiled room.
She called Angela.
After several tones, Angela picked up
"Genie! How are you?"
"Not good at all, I swear I'll expel my bloody insides if I keep throwing up."
"Ohh, not good... I'll be right over"
"See you soon Genie"
As soon as she hung up, a horrible thought began to dawn on her. It had been roughly a month since the night with the man with the green eyes. Why hadn't she remembered his name? Or even what they had done? As soon as the image of him appeared in her mind, it was gone.
Nevertheless, the horrible suspicion was still there.
She buried her head in her hands and cried. That's how Angela found her, twenty minutes later.
"What's wrong Genie?" Asked Angie, pulling Genevieve's hands away from her face. Genie's dark blue eyes were filled with confusion and fear.
"Angie... There's something I didn't tell you about at the Palm Tree..." Genevieve began haltingly.
"What happened? Did someone do something to you?" asked Angela, concerned.
"What is it Genie?"
"There was a man... I remember dancing with him... and he bought me a drink... and we talked...I think we were both drunk... I woke up in my bed...I think... I think..." Genevieve stammered.
"You think what?" asked Angela, already knowing the answer.
"I think we had sex..." squeaked Genevieve.
"You don't remember?"
"No, not really, I don't even remember his name... all I remember is that he had green eyes."
"Uh oh..." Angela paused, then pulled her best friend into a hug.
"I can't have kids!" wailed Genie into her shoulder, "I'm only 24, and I'm not ready to support one!"
Angela pulled out of the sisterly hug and strode to the door.
"I'll be right back"
She was gone for twenty minutes and when she came back, she had a home pregnancy test.
"Here." She said, handing it to her best friend and stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door.
A few minutes later, Genevieve came out he door holding the test. A small blue line was visible. She sighed.
"I'm pregnant...I don't know what I'm going to do."
"You could give it up for adoption..." suggested Angela. Genevieve shook her head.
"No, I'm keeping my baby" she said quietly, "and maybe someday, we can figure out who daddy is..." She said, looking down at her stomach with a troubled expression.
The song is "Dancing Queen" by ABBA, so it doesn't belong to me!