Kinship - Chapter One.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do the job?"

"Yes, very sure."

"Are you sure?"

"You're still at school Gin!"

"I could do weekends!"

"NO! Now please let me do some work?"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at George and flounced out of the shop. George sighed and turned away from the window where he'd just placed an ad. Weasley Wizards Wheezes was doing better than any of them imagined. Too well - he and Fred couldn't manage. This was why they were advertising for a shop girl. He sighed and walked over to the sales desk to begin pricing up some new stock. He hummed under his breath as he marked the prices.

"Canary Creams, Duck Digestives and Swan Shortcake? The Switching Feathers range? I thought that was being marked up tomorrow?"

"What? Fred, you said mark these, then do the Skiving Snackboxes. Don't mess me around mate, I know you said to."

"No George. I didn't. The Skiving snackboxes need to be on the shelves tonight - the first students are coming down tomorrow! Ron's year - George you flaming idiot!"

Fred walked over to where George was standing and grabbed the box of Switching Feathers merchandise. Swearing under his breath he marched out to the stockroom and returned with two large boxes marked 'Skivers Only!'. He slammed them down and walked towards the door.

"Well can you at least help me get it done? We are partners you know Fred. Remember?"

"Me and Fee are going out. See you later."

"Oh fine. Fiona - fucking bint. Why doesn't she work here? You might get more work done! All you ever do these days is take her out. I'm sick of it Fred."

These last words were addressed at a shout as Fred stormed off into the snow. George peered out of the window.

"Damn freaky weather."

He turned and walked over to the counter the boxes rested on. Chewing on his lip he stood there for a second scratching the back of his head.

"Oh fuck it."

He swung at the boxes, sending their contents sprawling and walked upstairs, where a bottle of firewhisky stood in the cupboard.

Fred pushed the door open and stamped his feet to knock the snow off. The blizzard raging outside had grown in force considerably. No-one could understand it, in the last week of August a blizzard shouldn't strike. All over the country muggles and wizards alike were going mad trying to work it out. Fred shivered as he took of his cloak and turned to double lock the door. Yawning he turned to make his way upstairs when he tripped on something.

"What the fuck? Puking Past- George? GEORGE!"

Fred was on his feet panicking running a hand through his hair – what had happened? Had the shop been attacked? George? Was he attacked? Lying unconscious in the snow outside?

"GEORGE! BRO! Where the fuck is he?"

He yanked open the door at the back of the shop and checked the storeroom - nothing there. Wheeling around he thundered upstairs, praying under his breath.

"Oh Merlin let him be there, let him be okay, let him be safe."

He ran into the twins shared lounge and stopped dead. George was slumped on the floor in front of the fire, head turned away from him, arms sprawled.

"GEORGE!"

Fred leapt over the side table and grabbed his twins shoulder. When the empty bottle of Firewhisky rolled out from under his unconscious brother, he froze.

"What the fuck? George? George...wake up bro, come on mate, wake up..."

Fred panicked again - George didn't drink. He couldn't after one their mutual friends in Diagon Alley had drunkenly fallen under a car in Muggle London. George had seen it happen - and the fact that he had been drunk himself and unable to stop it had put him off the stuff ever since. That was just under a year ago. Leaning over, Fred grabbed the small pot of floo powder and threw some into the fire yelling 'The Burrow'! He leant over George and stuck his head in as the flames turned green. When he could see the familiar surroundings of his childhood front room he started yelling frantically.

"MUM! MUM! DAD! HELP ME! MUM!"

Almost instantly there was a thundering on the stairs and multiple

pairs of feet loomed into view.

"Fred? Fred what is it? Calm down!"

Molly and Arthur were on their knees staring at Fred anxiously. Behind them he could make out Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Bill and Charlie. All of them were in their bedclothes or sleeping gowns, all looking worried.

"Mum, its George - he's drunk, and I can't wake him, and he drunk a whole bottle, Mum, he don't drink Mum, he won't wake Mum! Firewhisky, a whole bottle, Mum, a whole bottle!"

"Oh Merlin Fred, get out of the fire!"

Fred drew his head back and moved backwards quickly and just in time - Molly came spinning out of the fire quickly followed by Arthur, Bill and Charlie - still shouting back at the rest to stay where they were. On seeing Georges state, Molly let out a small shriek. Arthur grabbed his wife.

"Now, now, Molly. We'll get him back to the Burrow and wake him up and he'll be fine. Boy's?"

He motioned at Bill and Charlie before leading Molly into the fireplace and saying 'The Burrow'. Bill, Charlie and Fred looked at each other before hooking their arms under George's shoulders and legs and pulling him through the fire.

Once on the other side, George seemed to regain some consciousness and vomited all over the lounge floor. Bill and Charlie kept him held up while Ginny and Hermione moved away. Molly set about clearing up the room as the boys moved George to the sofa. Fred knelt in front of him and shook his shoulder.

"George - you okay mate?"

George opened one eye and focused on him. After a second he opened both eyes and glared at him. Suddenly he drew his arm back and punched Fred - hard. Fred went backwards with a yell clutching at his nose. There was blood trickling down his chin.

"Yoou fu - fu- fucking bashtard, I hates yoush, why are not out

screwing that bint? Bored of her now? Decided to turn up now? Not there when I need you though! Not important enough, blood! Fuck ya!"

After this speech, George keeled forwards and threw up again. He

groaned. Fred stared at him, his hand over his nose. Everyone else was standing there silent, looking between the both of them.

"What was that about, Fred?"

Charlie looked at him. Molly bustled over and looked at his nose,

dragging his hand away, muttering something and pointing her wand at him before going to tend to George.

"Fred?"

"Fucked if I know, Bill. We had a bit of an argument earlier - but I

thought he was okay."

"He drank a bottle of Firewhisky. He doesn't drink. When he did, he hated Firewhisky. Something is very wrong, Fred."

"Well, I don't know what it is! I wish I did! He's my twin, you think

I'm enjoying this? Huh?"

"Enough! All of you!"

Molly was standing with her hands on her hips, scowling.

"All of you, bed now. This will be sorted in the morning."

"Uuugh... Merlin."

George sat up and cradled his head in his hands. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought a particularly viscous hex had caught him in the head. He was also pretty confident that he would be reintroduced to the contents of his stomach in a very short while. Straightening up, he looked around.

"What the hell? Hello? HELLO! MUM!"

He stood up unsteadily as Molly came bustling into the room followed by Arthur, who looked unusually serious. George sat back down again at the look on his mothers face. She stopped in front of him, arms crossed and glaring. Arthur sat down in the armchair nearest the fire.

"Well George?"

"Mum, not so loud please."

George buried his head in his hands again.

"Mum, why am I in the front room of the Burrow? What happened? And why are we the only ones around at eleven in the morning?"

"George do not try playing stupid with me. Nobody is in here because they don't want to face you this morning. What was last night about? Why did you feel the need to hit Fred? What has he done wrong? You used to be so nice George, such a ... well you were lovely tempered. I just don't know what to do with you!"

George sat back and closed his eyes in shock. He had hit Fred. Now he remembered. Now he remembered why he had been so angry. But he couldn't come to terms with the fact he had struck his own twin. Sighing he got up and looked at his mum and dad

"I'm sorry mum. I have to go. I can't do this - he's always leaving me with the shop, I can't handle it on my own. He treats me like a piece of dirt and all because of that little bitch Fiona! She's a gold digger - don't defend her mum I know you hate her too! She's nasty and fake and she is taking Fred away from us - from me!"

"George calm down."

Molly gently hugged him and looked at Arthur. They both knew this would happen sooner or later. The twins weren't children anymore. They were breaking apart - going their own ways. Neither of them liked Fiona, it was true, and Molly, Arthur and the rest of the Weasleys' all felt it was partly her fault that this was happening.

"I have to go Mum."

"I know."

George stepped away and moved towards the fireplace.

"You know where we are George. Don't forget - you're our son too. We love you."

"I know Dad. I know."

Taking a deep breath George took a pinch of Floo powder and threw into the fire. Calling out 'Wizards Wheezes' he stepped forward into the flames and was gone.

Molly turned to Arthur with tears running down her cheeks. He held out his arms and together they sat on their dilapidated old sofa to wait. They didn't have to wait long. Charlie and Bill turned up first. One look at their parents faces and they knew what had happened. Bill ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

" I can't believe this."

"Bill, love, sit down. You know we've been waiting for this for a while - They're growing up. And these past months haven't been easy. You're home again, thank Merlin, Percy has disappeared, and they've been having to hold everyone together. They're the middle children. Everyone looks to them."

"Mum, me and Charlie, we'll go and look for him, we'll go down

Knockturn.."

"No Bill."

Molly wiped her eyes and stared at her two eldest. Bill was sitting hunched forward on the worn armchair, his hands clasped between his knees, long fingers entwined. His head was craned back to stare at her his eyes wide and mouth still half open. Slowly he shut it and nodded in understanding. Charlie was still standing in front of the window where he had stood when he had entered the room. Where he so often stood and stared when he thought he was alone, and the swirling snow soothed his thoughts. His shoulders were hunched and tense, arms crossed. His left hand, his wand hand dangled free whilst his right slowly clenched and unclenched. The light picked out his features sharply - his eyes didn't laugh but watched like an animal, darting here and there. Along his right cheek was a faded bruise and cut.

Molly sighed.

"Charlie. I know ... I know that you are tired still. Get some sleep last night?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Not really mum."

Everyone waited to see if he would say anything else. Nothing was forthcoming. Arthur cleared his throat.

"Bill, can you find Harry and Hermione? I need to talk to Ginny and Ron."

After finding the two youngest Weasleys and sending them down to the living room, Bill and Charlie grabbed their coats and headed outside. After walking in silence for about five minutes they came to an old fence. Leaning on it, Bill sighed.

"Charlie. What are we going to do? We can't just let him go, it would tear mum and dad apart. They can't take it, not after you...well you know summer and stuff. And you're still not sleeping, Mum's still worried you know. We all are."

Charlie leant next to Bill and looked at him. Sighing, he shrugged.

"Why have you not asked me outright about it Bill?"

This was the last thing Bill expected. The summer just finishing had been a nightmare for everyone. Voldemort had risen in power incredibly, and the size of his Deatheater army had exploded - though no one could say whether it was just people admitting that they were Deatheaters or new members. Near the halfway point of last term at Hogwarts, the attacks had begun. At first it was just inside the school, but it was put down to youthful arrogance on the part of the Slytherins and fool bravery for the Gryffindors. And the other houses, who clicked onto what was happening quicker than the teachers hid their Muggleborns and half-bloods. When the infirmary was full of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, the teachers paid attention. And this time, surprisingly, someone else got there before Hermione Granger – Dean Thomas. He had left suddenly, with just a note to explain it - the note with the words that alerted the teacher. I can't stay, he had written, knowing that the Deatheaters have infiltrated Hogwarts. I say to all Muggleborns and half-bloods to get out now. It won't be long until it is too late.

This was the catalyst for the war to begin in earnest. Some of the Muggleborns and half-bloods left. They soon stopped when the students who left were systematically traced and killed along with their families. The picture of the dark mark rising into the air from the wreckage of yet another home became a daily event on the front cover of The Daily Prophet. Dean had been hunted down a week after leaving. He was one of only three to leave Gryffindor house - the other two, first years Patricia Dotson and John Clements, didn't even make it to the station. Gryffindors remained stubborn to their house qualities – brave to a fault. The other houses suffered losses too - even the Slytherins, although theirs were always lost in battle and hushed up.

Then the attacks began on the castles outer defences. Nightly it seemed the teachers and upper years were patrolling with the ministry aurors when they would run into a stray Deatheater. Minor Skirmishes followed, and although losses were low - 2 aurors and one student and 5 Deatheaters - it didn't help the helplessness which pervaded the school. The Order of the Phoenix began to up its activity level. Many of its meetings were held at Hogwarts, with several students becoming members. Now the entire Weasley family was members, as was Harry and Hermione, Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey and the rest of George and Fred's year. Intensive training followed.

School broke up for summer and most went home. But Charlie Weasley stayed at Hogwarts. His dragon expertise was being put to good use. He and Hagrid had bred several, and were trying out the idea of creating a fleet. One day he had walked into the forest to look for fresh dragon ivy, a plant used to sedate the dragons. Hagrid heard raised voices and the sounds of a duel. He ran into the forest but was too late. Charlie had gone; all that was left was the body of one Deatheater later identified as Maria de Medeiros, a dangerous French dueller. It had been left yet again for Harry to come up with the answer. He, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna had disappeared one night from their respective homes. Alarms were sounded and the order went into overdrive. Day and night they searched looking for the missing order members. Things were looking desperate when they appeared in the front garden of the burrow with Charlie. Hermione was badly injured - a burn stretched up her right forearm that had taken the rest of the summer to heal and she had a severe concussion, was unconscious. Ron had his arms around her gripping her tightly. Tears were running down his face and he was covered in cuts and bruises. Harry and Ginny were supporting Charlie. He was pale, which made the blood on his face and naked upper body stand out harshly. His hair was hacked and sliced, his body covered in scars and deep gashes. Along his cheek was an especially deep slice. His left leg lay at an unnatural angle. Ginny was relatively okay with nothing more than a couple of bruises and cuts on her upper body. Harry was conscious but badly injured. His scar was bleeding profusely and he had burn marks on his lower arms, in the same place as Hermione's more severe one.

Luna never returned. They confirmed they had seen her fall.

They had been gone for a little over a week. Charlie two weeks.

Their names had been about to be carved next to the list of the fallen in Hogwarts great hall. As it was, only Luna's was added, underneath her Fathers who had fallen early that year in an overseas assignment for the order. Harry had been shocked to learn he was a member.

Since they returned they had all been changed. Harry was more determined than ever to kill Voldemort - his training intensified until it was scary. Hermione begged him to stop, even though she and Ron were training almost as hard. He had refused. Hermione and Ron were inseparable - Ron's eyes always watched her as if scared that she would suddenly fall and not get up. She was as reliant on him - her books lay unopened for a great deal of that holiday as she learned from the Weasleys how to simply enjoy life. Ginny was louder than ever - but in a focused way. She always seemed to be watching, storing information, but concealing it with her loud and impenetrable mask.

Charlie was the most changed. He wore his hair short, he was quiet, withdrawn. He stood at the window a lot of the time just thinking - although he wouldn't say what about. His books on Dragons were boxed and put into storage, and he refused to return and help Hagrid. He spent hours in his room, not talking, not surfacing.

"Well Bill?"

Charlie's eyes cut into him like shards of ice. He was tense, but not hostile - as though he were dreading what he would have to say.

"Why no dragons, Charlie?"

"Because that's what they want. Dumbledore knows all this, I told him. They wanted me to raise a fleet of dragons for them. They threatened me with imperius. They threatened me with you - all of you. If the kids hadn't shown up- I don't know, don't want to know. Be glad that bunch is on our side"

"Every damn day Charlie. I mean, they've saved most of us at least once now. Harry the poor kid; he's got it rougher than any of us know. I feel sorry for him - and glad its not me."

They stood there in silence and watched the snow fall on the fields in front of them.