Hogwarts

Year 2

Theme: Christmas

Prompts: The Burrow(setting), Fred and George Weasley(characters), Lighting a candle(action)

WC: 1264

Special thanks to Kiaa and Morgan for beta'ing

The Scars We Bear

Ron didn't know what had woken him that night. He sat blinking in the darkened room, his pupils dilated, searching for any light by which to look around the attic. His bedroom door creaked and, out of habit, he reached for his bear. His fingers groped among the blankets, and he became frantic as they came up empty. His bear was gone.

Fear radiated from him, causing the candle by his bedside to flicker alive, throwing shadows on the wall. He leaned over the side of his bed, eyes searching for the soft, raggedy paws of his best friend; his only friend.

The door creaked again and he flinched; his hand slipping out from underneath him, sending him sprawling face first onto the floor. He slowly stood up on trembling legs.

"Hel-lo..?" he called out towards the door, risking a quick glance sideways.

No answer.

He didn't want to go back to bed without his comfy bear. Not without Teddy. Then he remembered that he'd fallen asleep on the couch downstairs waiting for Santa. Mum had probably brought him up and she must have forgotten Teddy.

He walked slowly to the door, pulling it open and looking into the darkness of the hallway. Thinking better of it, he ran back to his bedside table and grabbed the candlestick holder. Mum had always warned him not to carry it by himself, but he needed to get Teddy and there was no way he was going out of his room without something to fend off the dark outside.

There was a draft in the hallway, making Ron shiver as he left the warmth of his bedroom. Every room had a warming charm cast on it during this time of the year, but no one ever bothered with the hallways. He tried pulling down the sleeves of his pajamas, but they were getting too small and stopped two inches above his wrists. His pants weren't much better, either.

He walked tentatively towards the top of the stairs, every whine, clang and creak in the house setting his teeth on edge. He'd never walked down the stairs at night by himself. He was at the top of the house and it had been drilled into his mind that it wasn't safe. But his safety and fear were put on the back burner when it came to Teddy.

Getting down the stairs was the hardest part; they were uneven and the darkness made it even more difficult to navigate. He made it safely to the next landing, but as he went to head down the next flight of stairs, his candle blew out. The darkness enveloped him, leaving only little pinpricks of light dancing in his vision. His breath quickened and his heart fluttered in his chest, his fear once again lighting the wick. He puffed up his cheeks, and then let the air out with a pop of his lips. For Teddy, he thought to himself again, as he set his jaw and took the next step.

He let out a sigh of relief as he made it all the way downstairs. The lights on the Christmas tree illuminated the living room and Ron smiled as he saw Teddy lying on the couch. He ran over hurriedly, the candles flame flickering in the sudden movement, and grabbed Teddy with his free hand.

But then, suddenly, more legs started growing on Teddy; long spindly things with little hairs sticking out all over. The eyes began to multiply and the bear's crooked, worn smile was replaced by pincers.

Ron screamed, dropping Teddy and the candle. The flames caught the rug on fire and soon the house was filled with smoke and screams.

"What were you two thinking!? And don't even try to deny it because I know it was you."

Mrs. Weasley stood in the kitchen, her finger pointing accusingly at her twin boys, nostrils flaring.

The smell of burnt carpet permeated the air.

"Mum, it wasn't us. We can't even do magic." Fred held up his hands, his eyes large in his small face. "No wand."

"Yeah, no wand, Mum," George said.

She snorted, her finger now waggling between them. "Oh, and you think that I'm fool enough to believe you two are incapable of nicking one of your brothers'?"

"There's no proof!" Fred exclaimed

"No proof!" George repeated.

She slammed her hands down on the table. "I don't need proof! I'm your mother!"

Fred's jaw dropped. "That's unfair! You're going to blame us because little ickle Ronniekins says it was us?"

"Yeah, why are we getting in trouble for his stupid bear when you didn't do anything about him breaking Fred's broom?"

"Oh, so is that what this is about? Getting back at your brother?" She stepped back, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Fred shrugged, "Well, if it was, you'd have to admit that we were in the right."

George raised a finger, "Key word being 'if', of course."

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms. "Do you think this is some joke? The house was Almost. Burned. Down."

"Once again."

"Not us."

Mr. Weasley stepped into the kitchen. "Dear, is there anything you can do about this smell?"

The two boys' shoulders dropped in relief at their dad's interruption.

"Is that what you're concerned about? Nothing to say about what your offspring pulled?"

Mr. Weasley looked at his sons, as if noticing them for the first time. "Oh, yes, right then. You two boys should be more careful. Transfiguration is very advanced spell work, especially when using someone else's wand. On that note, brilliant bit of work there." He looked back at his wife. "There, all cleared up. Now, about that smell."

Mrs. Weasley clenched her jaw, the anger that had been previously directed at the twins expanded to include her husband.

"Don't you two even think about trying to sneak out of here."

Fred and George had been slyly trying to slip out of their chairs, taking advantage of the distraction caused by their father. They jumped in surprise at their mother's unexpected reproof, before sliding back into their chairs with hung heads.

Ron sat on the stairs and watched the whole thing; Teddy singed and forgotten at his feet. He hugged his knees into his chest, eyes shut tight, trying to forget everything that had happened. His mother's yells sounded muted, as though they were coming from far away, or as if he were underwater. But one word seemed to reverberate around him—Spider.

The image of his best friend sprouting legs played behind his eyelids; the smile mocking him as it transformed once again into pincers.

His eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath through partially opened lips; tears welling up, forming droplets on his eyelashes. He sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his pajamas before resting his chin on his knees. At the edge of his vision he caught a glimpse of Teddy and his lip began to quiver. He didn't know why he'd saved Teddy from the fire; he supposed that's just what best friends did. But how could he be best friends with the stuffed animal anymore? He'd never be able to look at it the same.

He kicked a foot out, sending the bear tumbling across the room. It skidded underneath a counter, it's face turned toward Ron, smiling that kind smile it shared with only him, as if to say 'it's okay'.

Ron buried his face in his arms and let the tears flow freely, because it wasn't okay and it probably never would be.