Chapter 2 - Bravery

The next morning found Freya staring in the mirror, wearing a simple purple knee length dress. She hated how visible the scars on her head and arms were, and she made a mental reminder to get her black cardigan from her chest of draws. With a growl of anguish she turned her back on the mirror and flopped on her bed. The rest of the previous day hadn't turned out too bad, except both Freya and Charlie could tell their father's attention was elsewhere. They ate at the pub, bought the dress and then headed home. She hadn't tried on the dress until that moment, so it was a relief that it fitted ok.

'Hey Frey, can I come in?' Charlie asked from behind the door.

'Sure,' Freya replied.

'Are you ok?' he asked as soon as he entered.

'No,' she sighed. 'I look horrible, I feel horrible. I'm still taking all those Muggle pain meds and I'm still in pain. I don't know if I can do it. Charlie, I'm so scared.'

'Oh Frey,' Charlie put his arm round his elder sister. She was older by twenty months but they were still very close. 'I know you can do it?'

'But why?' She whined, close to tears.

'Because you're the bravest person I know,' he replied simply. 'Why else would you be in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? I know it's going to be bloody hard work, but you can do it. You have mum, dad, Jack, and me. You are not alone.'

Freya smiled weakly but didn't say anything. She twiddled her fingers and stared out the window. For some reason, the wedding seemed more frightening than going back to Hogwarts. Maybe it was because a wedding had started off the nightmare. Or maybe it was because school didn't start for another week, and she had time to pack and get ready. She didn't really know, and thinking about it made her hurt even more.

'Are you going to wear the wig?' He asked, a smirk upon his face.

'I don't think so,' she scowled. 'It was very itchy, and I felt it slip several times. I guess I'll just have to go hair free. Oh well, I'll probably get to scare a few old ladies.'

'Very funny,' he teased. 'And you'll never be scary, with or without hair.'

'Shut up,' she sighed. 'I'm not in the mood right now. I have to go this stupid wedding, like a potato head mummy. It's going to be awful.'

'It wont be,' he smiled encouragingly. 'It will be fine. Oh, well that's your Charlie time over,' he stood up and rubbed his hands together. 'Well I can't wait to see Albus and Nate and see what they've been up to.'

'You saw them five days ago,' Freya pointed out. 'What could possibly have changed?'

'No idea,' he shrugged. Typical boy, Freya thought.

They ended up flooing as the drive would have taken too long. 'Don't tell your mum,' was the last words Adam said before Freya disappeared in a puff of green flame and hurtled through the fireplaces of England. She landed with a loud thud on the floor of the Pemberton-Davies household.

'Welcome,' Roger helped Freya up and used his wand to vanish the soot. 'How are you feeling? It certainly looks like you've been through the wars.' His expression showed pity and sadness.

'I'm fine,' she replied shortly. She winced as she turned to watch her brother tumble out of the fireplace. She reckoned she would have several new bruises to add to her collection. 'It's just a precaution really.'

'Hey everyone,' Charlie grinned, his green eyes shinning from his sooty face. 'Happy wedding day.'

'Thanks Charlie,' Roger smiled fondly at his godson. 'Now come to the kitchen. I have no idea where the kids are, probably outside.'

'Good to see you mate,' Adam expertly rolled out of the fireplace and hugged his close friend. 'I'm so glad I could be here.'

'I'm glad you're here too,' he grinned. 'It's good to see the family. I feel like it's been a long time since I've seen all three of you.'

'Yeah, last summer I think,' Adam said. 'Now where's this food you were talking about?'

'Come this way,' Roger led them to the kitchen. Their house was on the large side, as they brought five children in the marriage. Althea and her ex-husband Cormac McLaggen had three daughters, Iris, Phoebe and Cassia. Roger had Elliot and Mia, who were all similar ages to the girls.

'You'll be fine,' Charlie gently pushed Freya towards the door. 'I'll be right next to you.'

'Thanks,' she whispered back. 'You're the best bro ever.'

'Course I am,' he winked cheerfully. 'Come on, let's go and find people our own age.'

Freya nodded, too chocked up for words. She had a horrible feeling it would be a very long day.

x

Five members of the Mighty Seven were huddled together outside, as they waited for the wedding to start. The wedding was in the back garden of Roger and Althea's good-sized house. The garden was well kept, with several gazebos, a fountain and other cool features. The three boys and two girls had been friends forever, having grown up together and all ending up in Gryffindor. Two usual members of the group were not present; one being away visiting family in the States (Laurel Doherty) while the other simply wasn't invited to the wedding being a Muggleborn (Noah Bennett). All five were dressed in traditional dress robes, and two of the boys were complaining bitterly about their outfits.

'I don't know why I have to wear this stupid robe,' James moaned. 'I look like those six hundred year olds from those portraits at school.'

'I think it makes you look quite dashing,' Phoebe grinned. She looked pretty relaxed for someone whose mother was about to get married to her stepfather. In fact, nothing much fazed her, which was probably good as she was best friends with James and Fred. Those guys tended to shock people by their loud personalities. It also helped that Phoebe was actually quite fond of her stepfather, and they got along well enough.

'I like mine,' Fred grinned. His dress robe was deep navy and quite stylish for Wizarding dress robes.

'Clearly you were dropped on your head as a baby,' Alistair laughed. 'They're gross.'

'Course,' Fred replied, laughter in his rich brown eyes. It would be a lie to say that Fred didn't smile much. He was just the kind of happy person whose cup was almost always full. 'I have a feeling dad must have dropped me a few times, they always said I was a very wriggly baby.'

'Makes sense,' James chuckled. 'Let's not forget the time you jumped out of the two story tree house because you thought it would be fun. There goes several hundred of your brain cells.'

'Or the time that you decided you wanted to defy gravity,' Alistair continued. 'Yeah, that didn't end well.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Fred sighed. 'There's no denying I was a slightly reckless and impulsive child.'

'And teenager,' Mog added.

'Stop ganging up on me,' he pouted. 'I can't help it.'

'It's ok,' Phoebe patted his arm. 'We still love you anyway.'

'I love you too,' Fred nuzzled Phoebe who allowed the sudden affection. That was just how Fred was.

Several adults began to filter out to the garden were the ceremony was to be held, encroaching on the small teen zone. All were dressed smartly, although not all men wore dress robes, which made James and Alistair fume.

'Hey, that's Adam Clark,' Mog exclaimed suddenly.

'Er, who's that?' Alistair asked. 'He looks familiar, but I can't place him.'

'He's Freya's father,' James said, taking in the middle-aged man. His hair was still brown, with no grey hairs. He couldn't help noticing how similar he was to his daughter.

'Freya, as in Freya Clark,' Fred said, his face serious for a second.

'Yep, as in one half of Fremma,' Mog added. 'I wonder if she's here.'

'Or she could be dead,' Alistair said thoughtfully. 'I mean who leaves three weeks before school ends and doesn't come back.'

'She's not dead,' James said firmly, apparently clearing up the matter. 'There would have been a funeral and it definitely would have been in the news.'

'It's just so mysterious,' Phoebe commented, as they all watched Adam Clark mingle with friends and colleagues.

'It's so strange that none of the teachers said anything,' Mog said. 'I mean it was obvious they were very worried, but still. They simply said that Freya wouldn't be back for the foreseeable future, and that Emma had died and there would be an investigation.'

'Well there's Charlie,' James pointed to the tall light brown haired boy. He was familiar with Charlie because he was a good friend of his brother Albus.

'This is intriguing,' Fred craned his neck to get a good look. 'Now I'm curious to know if Freya's here.'

'Well it starts in fifteen minutes,' Phoebe said. 'Lets split up and have a look around.'

'Gotcha,' Fred stood up.

'Actually, Phoebe we need you now,' her sister Iris called her over.

'See yah suckers,' she followed her sister to where the rest of the wedding party was.

The four of them fanned out, through the pristine garden, and the tent where the ceremony would be. None of them spotted her and they soon settled in the back row. Freya was in fact in the toilet, hyperventilating and close to tears. She had managed to hide from everyone, but she knew it was time. She slipped out the bathroom and nervously headed towards the tent.

'There she is,' Alistair suddenly said.

'Of fuck,' was James's choice words as he took in the neck brace, chest brace, arm cast, scar on her head and her very short hair. 'What happened to her?'

'Oh my god,' Mog exclaimed, her face pale with shock. She had never seen someone with such visible injuries, which made sense because magical healing tended to be pretty fast.

'Why didn't she get Magical treatment?' Fred asked, his voice unusually hollow. 'She looks horrible.'

'Probably couldn't go to St Mungos,' Mog thought allowed. 'I think I remember hearing her mother's a Muggle. Probably explains why she looks so bad.'

'That's awful,' Alistair said.

Freya glanced over them; obviously realising they were talking about her. She blushed deep red, her mouth turning into a slit and her eyes narrowing angrily. Charlie came to her rescue and pulled her away to his seat a few rows ahead.

James couldn't help the sickening feeling he felt, as the wedding began and the bride and her father walked down the rose lined pathway to the sound of a calming harp. He could see the pain and anguish in her eyes, and he hated knowing the suffering she must be feeling. That was one of the few things he really got from his father and his experiences in the war: the understanding of suffering and pain, and the power of love. Coupled with his innate kindness, James was unusually sensitive and receptive.

The ceremony was short and sweet, but James's attention was on Freya. If he lent forwards slightly, and if the person behind her sat back, he could get a good enough view of her. She was twiddling her fingers, and staring into space. Even from the distance, he could see how uncomfortable she was.

'I'm happy to announce Mr. and Mrs. Davis. You may kiss the bride,' the small priest yelled happily. The newly married couple kissed, and everyone erupted into cheers and shrieks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Freya slip away. Nobody realised and he wondered where she would go.

'Please head outside while we prepare for the reception. Food is available outside, and the dancing will begin at eight,' Roger announced. There was a round of applause and then everyone dispersed to eat the barbeque.

'Barbeque,' Fred grinned, distracted by food as usual.

'You're hopeless,' Mog sighed. 'Don't you know we have a mission?'

'Er what mission?' His face fell then lit up like a small child. 'There's burgers, and hotdogs over there.'

'Don't worry, I'll talk about it with more intelligent people,' Mog turned to her brother and begged him with her eyes. 'Don't you care about the mission?'

'Mog, I can't help you with the mission if you don't tell us what it is,' Alistair said slowly, using all his patience.

'Yeah, what's the mission?' Phoebe joined them.

'Food,' Fred said, dragging Phoebe away. 'Come on the cutest bridesmaid of them all.'

'Oh shut up Fred,' Phoebe pulled free from his grasp.

'We saw Freya Clark,' James informed Phoebe casually.

'What!' Phoebe exclaimed. 'Where? When? How?'

'So many questions,' Alistair said, obviously overwhelmed.

'So much food,' Fred pointed to the tables of food.

'It will still be there in five minutes,' Mog reminded him.

'You're horrible,' Fred pouted but still listened to the conversation.

'She was with her dad and Charlie, like three rows from the back,' James said. 'She's pretty messed up; she's wearing some sort of neck and body brace. I think her arm's broken as she wearing one of those Muggle casts. Also her hair's like really really short.'

'It must have all been shaved off?' Phoebe said. 'But why?'

'I don't know?' James shrugged.

'Now please, lets get some food,' Fred said and they all nodded and went off to find the food. On the way they spotted Freya and Elliot walking together.

'I didn't know they knew each other,' Mog said stupidly.

'It's hard not to know someone when they're in your year and house,' Alistair teased his twin. 'Of course they know each other.' Mog scowled back.

'She's limping,' James commented unexpectedly. 'Something must have happened to her leg.'

'Looks like maybe a quidditch accident,' Fred said.

'Or a car accident,' Mog said.

'I don't know,' James shrugged. 'But I'll find out.'

Freya watched the rest of the wedding from the middle of a tree, as one does when they want to avoid people. After conversing with Elliot for a bit, he disappeared off to dance. Unable to bear the music and the sights of smiling and dancing people, she clambered up the tree most inelegantly and settled there with a bottle of bottomless Firewhisky. She ignored the burning feeling as the amber liquid slipped down her throat. The Weird Sisters old stuff floated up to her and she scowled. A few people wondered over to the edge of the party, almost under the tree but didn't notice her.

After awhile her body began to ache and her head throb. It was time for her to get down but she wasn't sure if she could. She reckoned she was probably fifteen metres up or something close to, and a good tree climber knows it's often easier to get up than down. With ease she slipped down the first few branches, but then her head began to pound, and her movements felt very jerky and disconnected. She began to loose grip, but with a last ditch effort to save herself from falling, she swung down to the lower branch, and swung down even further. A voice stirred as she took the jump down.

'What on earth are you thinking?' Freya ignored them, as she landed, crouching as she did. She sucked in air as the jolt ripped through her body and she began to sway.

'Are you ok?' The guy asked, and Freya finally looked up. It was a surprise to see James. His friends Mog and Alistair soon joined him, and all three were staring at Freya, in shocked silence.

'I'm fine,' she snapped back. 'Never better.'

'Well you look like you're in no state to climb any trees,' Mog said, trying to sound helpful.

'I had no idea,' she rolled her eyes and walked away. She gave them the middle finger before jogging away, until she was absorbed by the happy wedding guests.

'Well she clearly has an attitude problem,' Alistair grumbled.

James nodded. 'Lets just leave her be. I'm sure she doesn't want us nosey bastards in her face all the time.'

'Yeah,' Mog agreed.

So they tried hard to forget about her and enjoy the wedding. The adults were getting a bit tipsy as they danced into the night. Therefore leaving the young people pretty much up to their own devices. Or they were simply naive enough to think their children wouldn't get into any trouble. Though it was probably a combination of both.

'You ok love?' Adam asked his daughter, who was gently swaying to softer music. 'You look a bit worse for wear.'

'How ironic,' Freya scowled. 'I'm just ready for bed.'

'Well, I spoke to Roger and he and Althea set up a tent for young people to sleep in. I'll probably crash here tonight anyway so you might as well go there for the night. There are proper beds and blankets and stuff.'

Freya couldn't find the words to such a ridiculous idea. The alcohol had really begun to set in and she felt quite wobbly and fuzzy. She was also starting to feel cold, as the cool breeze went through her small cardigan. 'Where's Charlie?' She finally asked.

'By the fire,' Adam replied. 'A lot of the youngsters are there now. The tents pretty close by, I think.'

'Ok,' Freya tripped over a few people as she hurried away, the bottle of Firewisky still tightly in her grasp. She took several glugs as she headed over to the fire. With each movement, she felt less herself. All feelings were numbed and she simply existed. The darkness hid her as she sat at the edge of the fire, on a small log.

'For we're a jolly good fellow,' a few of them drunkenly sung loudly. She tried to listen out for individual voices but they were swallowed up by shrieks of laughter and joyous talking.

'Congratulations Phoebe and Elliot,' a voice yelled loudly. It sounded a bit like Fred. By this time it was getting harder to focus and she began to shake. She wondered what kind of drunken person she was. Not a happy go-lucky person like Emma. Not a loud obnoxious person she imagined James or Fred would be. She was simply numb and unfeeling, not happy or sad.

'You ok Freya,' a calming voice whispered in her ear.

'Course Charles,' she mumbled. 'I'm is very fine, like a fish, or a penguin. I loves penguins. Like Happy Feet. I can dance like happy but I'm not happy. How can I be happy without her.' Her voice had got louder and louder, and the others had gone silent, listening curiously to Freya's drunken word vomit. Oblivious, she continued. 'No, I like fires. Neither a good servant nor a good master. He melts when it's hot. Real snowmen don't. They're magic, like me. I don't-'

'Freya, you ok?' Charlie asked, acutely aware of all the people watching his sister. 'Have you got food or water?'

'Yeah,' Freya held up the bottle of Firewisky. 'All sorted.'

'Er Frey,' he couldn't help snorting. 'That's not water.'

'It's bottomless Firewisky,' Elliot said. He was sitting a few people from Freya and could see the bottle. 'How much have you had, Freya?'

'Not much, dear knight of Elliotdom,' Freya slurred.

'Let's take you off to bed now,' Charlie stood up and pulled Freya to her feet. 'You're coming with me.'

'Nope,' she giggled and easily slipped away. Despite being injured, and wearing the neck brace and body brace, she was remarkably agile. 'I'm going to do it myself,' she sang. She found the small orange tent easily. It didn't surprise her that it was magically enlarged, with a living room, three bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. It was cosy and comfortable. Instead of finding a bed, she sat on the sofa, staring into space. Time became nothing as she sat there, half drifting off but jolting awake as she felt herself falling. Her brain exhausted but scared, forced her awake every time. Memories began to resurface and she looked around for ways to forget them. Several wine bottles stood in the sink and she hobbled up to get one. Yes, wine would make her sleepy. Without a wine opener, she used her wand to open it and she drank thirstily from it. She knew time had passed, but it meant nothing. She was almost asleep when she heard voices as people entered the tent.

'We do have beds you know?' Elliot said, spotting Freya.

Freya nodded. She didn't trust herself to talk without spewing her guts. The wine and Firewhiskey had been an awful combination and she felt very sick.

'Are you ok?' People sat down next her, making her feel claustrophobic. She backed away, her eyes wide with fear.

'Lets take off your brace,' Charlie took charge. He was glad he had chosen not to drink; he knew his sister would need his help later. Freya nodded, and Charlie carefully pulled down the zip and eased it off her. He then took off the neck brace, and smothered her sweaty hair.

'No bed, no,' she mumbled and suddenly fell into a deep slumber.

'Are you sure she's ok?' James asked. 'She looks quite pale.'

'She'll be fine.'

Without warning, she started retching and wine coloured vomit spewed out, hitting her, the sofa, Charlie and the floor. He recoiled in shock. 'Shit!'

'Oh my gosh,' people exclaimed.

James's cousin Dominique cleared up the vomit immediately and lit a scented candle. 'Bed everyone. Lets give her some space.' Everyone wondered off, in a drunk and dazed stupor.

'Are your sure that's healthy,' James asked. 'That's very red vomit. Like blood?'

'Its just wine,' Charlie held up the near empty bottle that had half rolled under the small coffee table. 'She'll be fine,' he covered her in blankets. 'She'll be right as rain tomorrow.' The lie felt stupid as soon as it came out of his mouth, and hung above them like a dark cloud. They all knew that she wouldn't just wake up fine, healed and pain free. It was real life, not a fantasy book.

'Ok,' James said doubtfully.