Chapter 33.5: Weasley Slashing (Patreon)

Chapter 33.5: Weasley Slashing

Makeup Station, Durham Cathedral. December 2007.

Love is in the air - that’s how the saying goes, but I had a unique spin on it. Love is in the hair.

That’s why David Yates’ balding scalp looked like a hairy guy’s knee, “Hold still, Bas,” and why my luscious locks needed the hairstylist to trigger the highest setting on her blow-dryer. “Take Rupert’s example. He’s so well behaved in the makeup chair.” 

“Putting effort into making neat hair messy seems counterintuitive, don’t you think?” Her bringing attention to Rupert getting abrasions and cuts painted onto his face and arms was also rather contradictory to what she wanted me to do because naturally I turned my head to the ginger zoned out in his seat with cotton buds stuffed up his nose. 

Any stealth on my part as I sneakily reached a hand out to try to yoink the cotton out proved futile. “Whatever you pull out, I’m shoving in your nose. Bogeys included.” Probably for the best I got that warning. 

Rupert had zero interest in emulating me. Otherwise, those fake scratches may end up being more realistic than intended. 

“Aren’t you just the spiciest little gingersnap today?” He wasn’t the only one, though. 

Emma and David Thewlis (The silver fox playing Lupin) had completed their stint under the combs and brushes earlier in the day, so I was the last dollop of black sitting smack-dab in an ocean of redheads. Which was ironic considering if any of these pasty posies traveled anywhere near the beach - forget the carpet, the entire house would match the drapes. I was counting Nat Tena, too. Pink was close enough to red.

Call me Moses because I was parting the Red Sea.

I barely managed a glance through my peripherals before her soft hands smelling strongly of my pomade planted on my cheeks and twisted my neck to look straight ahead at the mirror again, where there was a set of mugshot style photos of my head and face so that my look sustained for continuity despite the multi-day shoot. 

Whenever you go to the barber, there’s that phenomenon as you’re forced to stare at your own reflection. You can’t help but notice how ugly you are.

The opposite was true to me. “Damn I’m handsome.” All the battle damage, soot, and general disarray only added to my appeal.

“Way to rub it in.” Domhnall Gleeson, who played Bill Weasley, was unfortunately suffering the victim's treatment as he got the gnarliest set of bloody, oozy, and inflamed claw marks rubbed on to his face with steady hands sculpting with silicone adhesive and resin.

Facial reconstruction, despite requiring hours a day, was still enormously more expedient than set construction. 

The various locations and fabrications required for Harry and Dumbledore’s cursed picnics were still being built, so first on the schedule aside from the sets we already had ready back at Leavesden were the few on location shots required - mostly with the interior Hogwarts sections. 

Which was why were basically filming the end of the movie so soon. 

Specifically, the aftermath of the death eater raid on Hogwarts. The wand waving choreography was still being finalized as well, and given the - ahem delay we’d already had, it was only logical we got as many easy to do shots out of the way as quickly as possible. 

“You both seem to zink that anyone will bozer looking at you two when I’m on screen.” Lea, fresh from wardrobe, was looking about as veela-ish as a girl could as she entered the room. Her scripted dialogue of ‘What do I care how ‘e looks? I am good-looking enough for ze both of us!’ wasn’t going to have anyone disbelieving her performance.

What they might question, however, was mine when I’d be too busy ogling her instead of Harry’s actual romantic interests. 

Not that Lea discouraged that in any way. She strutted forward while pretending to fuss over her hair and leaned slightly in front of my mirror with a knowing smirk. The vision of my own cheeks was blocked by hers.

All I can say was I’m glad I had the cape hiding my shape because the gossamer robe trailing down her back was very complimentary to her form. 

I tilted my head back and looked instead to my frustrated hair stylist; which I realised when she tugged my sideburns a little too hard. “When her turn comes, can you ugly her up a bit? Can’t sell the emotional weight of the scene if the entire male cast is going to be mooning over her. I might just forget my line or who I’m supposed to be crushing on.” 

I was flirting with Fleur. Fleurting, I’d coin it. Just like the dollar I wanna bounce off that bum.

Though my romance with the platinum blond bombshell bending in front of me was quickly chased away by strawberry blonde number three chiming in. And her words weren’t exactly sweet. 

The clips and claws holding her hair up nearly flew off when Karen Gillan lunged forward in her seat in between the Phelps twins. “Oh, I’m so sorry that I’m so forgettable. Maybe you’ll remember who you’re supposed to be snogging if I have a nice oniony, garlicky lunch right before our lip lock.” Talk about a French Kiss.

“You’re getting confused Gillan. You’re meant to give Harry a Horntail on his chest, not hair.” 

Once again, I’m forced to reiterate, Love is in the hair. Dyed Weasley red. 

That romance aspect David Yates so badly wanted was always in the text. It’s just too bad it took inducing alopecia in the poor fellow for him to realize it. 

–

Durham Cathedral, UK. December 2007.

Christmas was round the corner, and its first stop was Hogwarts. Specifically, Ol’ Saint Nick was coming to town; less to parcel out presents and more as the interior decorator for Slughorn’s holiday bash. 

Yates hadn’t stopped smiling as he set up the angles for his shots when he was surveying the set through the port of his viewfinder. 

The set designers under Stuart Craig’s leadership had turned one of the ante-rooms littered throughout the cathedral into tinsel town. Baubles and botany were only the beginning. The design team had been allowed a little leeway to spruce up the same tired trees and candles with a good injection of magic. Let’s just say fairy lights would be a lot more literal on the big screen. 

But first it was mine, and Evanna’s turn to put on a show.

“Quiet on set, please. Alright children, whenever you’re ready.” Most of us were in our late teens, but whatever. “Action!”

[I stood off frame as the camera centered on Luna by herself in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bouncy, spangled, layered dress.

She had shoes on this time.

The cameras had a better view of it, but even from where I was standing behind an adjacent pillar I could see the milling crowd of girls in Hogwarts uniforms huddled, pointing, and snickering at ‘Loony Lovegood’ who wilfully ignored their mean-minded muttering while waiting for me. 

On cue, I stepped into the frame and on my marker. “Hi. Shall we get going, then?” Harry tends to be blunt as a boulder in these sorts of situations. But because it was Luna, my arms didn’t feel nearly as stiff and I stuck out my elbow for her to grab.

She didn’t miss a beat, but unfortunately missed the hole. “Oops!” She cracked her knuckles surprisingly loudly when her fingers bashed against me. The mics definitely picked that up.]

“Cut! We need to reset. Everyone, back to your stations. Please, be careful, Evanna.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry! Butter fingers.” More like buttered popcorn the way they popped. “Not even a minute on film and I’ve wasted it. I’m so embarrassed.” From personal experience, I knew that she’d be self conscious the next few takes.

My inclination was to muss her hair to reassure her, but that’d have the hairstylist unleash her tool belt at me. “Happens to the best of us.” If only she knew how much film had been left undeveloped because of me. As we returned to place one, I thought to myself, ‘what’s a little more?’

[“Hi. Shall we get going then?” I repeated my actions.

Luna threaded the needle this time. “Oh yes,” Those baby blues of hers nervously met my glorious greens. “Where is the party?”

“Slughorn’s office. Did you hear, there’s supposed to be a vampire coming?” 

“Rufus Scrimgeour?”

“No. Me!” I hooked the index and middle fingers in my free hand and flew straight for Luna’s jugular. No blood was drawn; just peals of laughter.]

“...Cut. Bas… was that necessary? Nevermind, let’s just reset.”

“Bas!” Evanna hissed my name through her teeth like a curse - I might’ve taken it as one too if she wasn’t beaming. “I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

“if we go by how much tape was scrapped, I’d wager I’m in at least twice as much of it as you. Not feeling so bad anymore, eh?” My eyebrows hopped up and down on my face with the savoir-faire of a kangaroo.

She boxed me right where the joey pouch would be. “Don’t be cute. It doesn’t suit Harry half as much as it does you.” Though just as I let go of her to walk back to my marker, I felt her squeeze my arm. “But thanks. I guess I have another memory to add to our mutual blooper reel.”

“Don’t mention it.” That was sincere. “Unless, of course, you’re being interviewed, then scream it from the rafters.” That wasn’t. 

Arm-in-arm, the next few takes went as smoothly as Yates’ dome. 

The chemistry only continued over the days as we moved on to the following scenes at the potion master’s party. 

[“Defense against the dark arts, charms, transfiguration, herbology… and potions.” Snape’s nose wrinkled almost as much as Slughorn’s worried face. “All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror.”

“Seeing as they expect me to do their job for them, I may as well meet the educational requirements.” I sneered right back. Had the mead in my hand not been apple juice, I’d have thunk the sauce was getting to me.

“And a great one you’ll make too!” Slughorn, missing, or rather, ignoring the point, interjected himself.

But fell short of Luna’s more effective tactic. “I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,” Oh, I wouldn’t. “The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy. They’re working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”

My thanks to JK and Neil for allowing me to almost spit out my drink, because I very well might’ve done anyway with the bewildered and disgusted faces Slughorn and Snape made at my companion. Their confusion only continued as Filch abruptly collared a dragon.

“I caught this boy lurkin’!”

 “Alright, I was trying to gatecrash, happy?” My night only got better as Filch manhandled Draco hard enough to send him flapping just as hard as his captor’s scraggly mane.

 The two professors left Luna and I alone, but our sunny solitude didn’t last long as someone else in the Slug club slithered his way over. “That little dragon sure does enjoy being caged.” Blaise Zabini was close enough to me that I felt his haughty tone through his hot breath. 

Luna’s waist dipped as she peered across me, and my lip rose in distaste as I turned to face the interloper. “Got me confused with someone else? M’not sure your usual company would appreciate you talking to me.” 

“Who says I am? I’m speaking to myself-,”

“I do that quite often, too.” Luna was ready to make a new friend.

“Not my fault you lack the manners not to eavesdrop. Though I hear you’re quite good at that.” Wishful thinking that Draco would keep his victory over me on the express a secret. Even the goblet I brought to my lips couldn’t hide my wince.

Zabini was here as Rowling’s Slytherin student representative. Much like Neville served as a foil or alternate to my character, Blaise Zabini would play a similar role against Malfoy. They were both privileged pillocks with mommy issues and a superiority complex, but Zabini (as displayed on the express) held a healthy disrespect towards both Malfoy and death eaters.

JK’s attempt at salvaging the singular shade she’d painted the entire house in. They were still snakes, but not all of them were venomous. 

The three of us watched as Snape manhandled Malfoy out. “Now that he’s gone, I suppose we’re approaching your bedtime, too, Potter. Yet, I can’t blame you for it. Even dreaming about dear Draco dancing with trolls is a better prospect than present company.” He dropped a last hint and an accompanying insult before sauntering away. 

Not venomous, but they sure liked to bite.

“Oh no, Harry. I’ve driven him away. He might’ve stayed longer if I wasn’t here. People expect you to have cooler friends than us.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Luna.” Though I did when I tucked that little tidbit about the room of requirement away. “None of them are my real friends. You fought at the ministry with me.” My hand dipped into my pocket and pretended to fiddle with the invisibility cloak I kept on me as I made to spy on Snape and Draco. But not before I took Luna’s face in my other palm and made her look directly at me. “You are cool.” 

When my hand fell, and I stepped away to fulfill my self imposed mission, her own fingers replaced mine on her cheek. “That’s a very nice thing to say.]