Hey, this is your author speaking. This is my first story, so I apologize for any mistakes I may have made. I did change a little bit of the dialogue, because I'm paranoid about possible copyright/plagarism (I hope I spelled that word right) issues. I really just wrote this because I've had it in my head for a while now, and had to get it down. I also apologize if the chapters are too short, or if the story over all is too short. Enjoy! Oh, and if you notice any mistakes, feel free to comment and let me know.

The Nightmare

I was running. And I couldn't remember what I was running to. Or, was I even running TO something? I wasn't sure. But one thing I was sure of: I was terrified. And then I remembered. Something was after me. Someone was following me. Why? What did I do? And how did I even get here? Questions were running through my mind, and I had no answers for them. Then, all of a sudden, I tripped over something, maybe a tree root, or a rock, and fell. And I kept falling, for what seemed like forever. Hours passed, or maybe days, or maybe minutes. And then, finally, I landed onto a hard, cold, and flat surface. When I looked up, I saw the face of none other than Lord Voldemort. And then I looked around, and saw other familiar faces, like Bellatrix, and Greyback. And then I saw my parents, looking harsh and evil. And then I heard a sharp, cold voice yelling strange words, and I saw a green light and then I was gone.

I thought I was dead. I couldn't see, or feel anything. And things kept going through my head, my happiest memories. Me and my little sister, laughing, playing, and enjoying life. My dad making supper in the kitchen, while my mum tells us stories of their days at Hogwarts. Me, Fred, and George joking and playing pranks on people. Especially Percy. And then a darker memory filled my head. The tall, hooded men who came to our house late one night. Glass shattering, vases breaking, and me and Kayla hiding in a cupboard. There was screaming, and green lights flashing, and then it was silent and I was alone. So, so alone.

I jerked awake in my bed, and my body was covered in a cold sweat. And even though I was safe inside the walls of The Burrow, there were fresh tears streaming down my face. It was just a dream. That stupid, horrible nightmare that invades my sleep every once in a while. I hate this. I hate waking up and crying my eyes out over something that happened so long ago.

After it was obvious I wasn't going to be getting back to sleep for a while, I decided to get up and go downstairs. Perhaps a cup of tea and a good book would calm my mind a bit. I ran my fingers through my long, sandy brown hair, and stopped to check my face in the mirror. My ice blue eyes were surrounded by ugly, puffy bags. Ugh.

As I passed by the doors to everyone's bedrooms, I couldn't help feeling pangs of jealousy for the people in this house, fast asleep in their beds. Ginny in our own room, dreaming of Harry Potter (But if anyone asked her, it was Dean Thomas). Ron in his room, dreaming of being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, or possibly of the back to school feast he always loved so much. Mr. Weasley, soundlessly dreaming of muggle rubber ducks and flying cars, and Mrs. Weasley, dreaming of the day that her son, Percy, would come back to his family. Not that the rest of us miss him very much, though. He was such a prat. When I got to Fred and George's room, I paused. I missed the days where when I had a nightmare, I could crawl into bed with Fred and sleep a dreamless, deep sleep. He was the only one who could ever calm me down enough to sleep. But, we were too old for that now. I hadn't done that in years. Not to mention, it would be slightly inappropriate, seeing as how we weren't actually related. So, I resumed my trip down to the kitchen.

As I waited for the water to boil, I went over to the couch to pick up the book I had reluctantly put down earlier that day. But as my eyes roamed the pages, and the words of another world, my mind kept wondering to the dream that had woken me up. It wasn't a day I liked to think about, but my attempts to smother the memory failed and my mind went over every detail for the millionth time. Kayla and I had been in the kitchen with mum, singing Christmas songs and making cookies for Christmas, which was in 3 days. Well, they were singing. I didn't sing back then. I couldn't… Well, never mind. As we got to day ten of the twelve days of Christmas, our dad hurried into the room, looking afraid. My mum saw the look on his face, and immediately copied it.

"What's going on?" She said.

"They've come for her." Was all he said, but mum seemed to understand.

"Well, we have to leave! We have to get out of here! Girls, go grab some clothes and get in the car. We're going somewhere-"

"No, it's too late to leave. They're here. Now." Dad said.

A look of horror crossed mum's face. She made a strange choking sound, looked at us, at me, and said, "Oh God."

And then they both ran to us and pulled us into a hug, as if it would be the last hug they ever gave. After just a few moments, my dad pulled away and said, "Girls, you have to hide. Go into that cupboard in the hallway, put the lock on the inside in place, and stay there until we come to get you. Alright? Don't leave that cupboard."

"We won't. We promise." I said to them. I was so scared, and I could see Kayla having the same fear, even though we had no idea what was going on. As we all hurried toward the cupboard, I could hear my mother's sobs growing louder and louder. As we ducked through the door, she stopped us and pulled us into one last hug.

"I love you. I love you both. And your father does too, ok? Never forget that. No matter what happens. We love you." And with that, she got up and backed away. When my father knelt down to us, he didn't say any words. He leaned down and placed a kiss on each of our foreheads, and got up to stand by our mother.

As we went into the cupboard and locked the door, we heard the front door burst open and feet rushing in. People started talking, and then shouting, and then we saw little bursts of colors through the crack under the door. I remained silent, even though every part of me ached to be out there with them. When we heard a scream from my mother, Kayla got too scared to bear it any more. She left the cupboard, slipping past my grip, and ran into the living room. As I struggled with myself to either do what my parents told me too, or go after my sister, I saw a green light, and heard one last final scream cut short by a loud crack, and then complete silence. And that made up my mind. As I reached the living room, I thought I was prepared for what I was about to see. But it wasn't what I expected. There was broken glass everywhere. Paper from my dad's old books was ripped and scattered throughout the room, and the furniture was all torn and tipped over. There were bright red blood marks on the carpet and the curtains. I had expected to find my family there, all safe and sound and waiting for me, but instead I just found one person lying on the floor. Quiet, lifeless, and limbs strewn about as if she were a toy doll, was Kayla.

She was dead.

"Talia?"

I jerked out of my memory as I heard my name, and realized that the kettle was steaming, signaling the boiling of the water. It was Fred who had said my name, standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at me with concern.

"Fred! I didn't even realize you were there! I should go and get some tea, would you like a cup?" I said, purposefully making my voice sound nonchalant.

"I can grab it. Mint chamomile, right?" He asked.

"Of course." He left, and I quickly checked my eyes to see if I had been crying. Thankfully, I was dry. I didn't want to have to explain why I was up so late, a book in my hands, but staring off into the distance. But, as always, I underestimated Fred's ability to get inside my head.

"Here you go, one hot cup of your favorite tea. Now, care to explain why you're down here so late?"

"What about you? Why are you down here as late as I am?"

"I had to get a glass of water and go to the bathroom. And don't try and distract me by changing the subject, you know I'm smarter than that. Why are you up? Couldn't sleep?" I nodded. "Had the nightmare again?" I nodded again, looking away. "Why didn't you come wake me up? I could've helped. Or, I could have at least rubbed your back while you got all snotty and cried."

"Oh, thanks for that. I didn't come because I didn't want to wake you and George up. And don't you think we're a bit old for all that? I should be able to sleep on my own."

"You can, sometimes. But sometimes you need help, and you shouldn't be afraid to admit it. And you KNOW that neither George, nor I, would be the slightest upset if you needed to come in and talk to us."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just, every time I have that dream, I can't help but feel it's my fault she's gone. I mean, they were after me, weren't they? They thought she was me. Because I'm… The way I am."

"Talia, you can't think that. You have no idea if they were after you. How could you? You were eight years old! You can't beat yourself up about this anymore."

"I know! I'm sorry." I repeated.

"Yeah, well, you should be. Just wait 'till I tell Georgie that our little sister had a bad dream, and came down here to be by herself, feeling guilty, instead of coming to us, her favorite brothers." He said with a big fat grin on his face.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Fred, that we're not actually family?"

"And how many times do I have to tell you, Natalia, that you are part of this family, no matter what your blood says?"

"Don't call me by my full name."

"Don't accuse me of not being your brother."

"You know I don't like people using my full name."

"You let mum call you Natalia!"

"Well, that's different. She watched my birth, I'm pretty sure that gives her the right to call me whatever she wants. Even if it is my full name."

"You mean, Natalia Jackson?"

"Fred!"

"NATALIA JACKSON!"

"Shut up! People are sleeping!"

"Natalia Jackson told me to shut up! Natalia Jackson says people are sleeping!"

And with that, I couldn't contain my laughter any longer. And by the look on his face, I could tell that that was exactly what Fred wanted. After that, we just sat there and talked, and it was as easy as it always had been. Both Fred and George had always been there for me, always been able to cheer me up when no one else could. Even before my parents had been taken, I had been really close to them. Our parents had been friends after Hogwarts, so we had all grown up together. I was the same age as Ron, and Kayla had been the same age as Ginny. After my family had been broken, I was sent to live here with the Weasleys. They were like a second family to me, and I loved them all to death. I was so lucky to have a family like this to take care of me, to raise me as if I were one of them. And really, I did feel like I was. I just liked to give the twins crap about it. Sitting here with Fred, I felt so at home. And it was good.