Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!
PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(
Chapter 4
July 1997
4 Privet Drive
Harry had reacted about as well as expected when told about the plan for several of us to pretend to be him. He looked uncomfortable and worried, not to mention a touch resentful about his protests being ignored, as Mad-Eye passed out the eggcup-sized glasses with the bubbling, bright gold potion.
The change was nothing like what I'd experienced the first time I'd attempted to use Polyjuice Potion. I didn't know if that was because I'd mistakenly used a cat hair when it wasn't intended for animal transfiguration, or because I was changing into Harry and his potion was so much more pure; a true reflection of the essence of him. It even tasted like a bit like Butterbeer rather than something more unpleasant like overcooked cabbage or rancid tuna the way it had last time.
My insides writhed and twisted while my skin bubbled and skittered as every bit of me seemed to painfully expand outward like a blown up balloon. I hadn't realized just how much taller and broader Harry was until I was suddenly taking up so much more room and looking around from a greater height. I felt stronger too. His oversized clothes and robes were hiding a great deal of unexpected muscle. Though he was still more wiry and lean than the twins, he had a bit more bulk than Ron. Must be from all the flying. It took extreme coordination and muscle control to balance on a broom while playing Quidditch. Ron might be significantly more enthusiastic about the sport and fly more than the others combined, but truthfully speaking, he wasn't all that good. And he certainly lacked the others' coordination.
By the time the change ended, I felt like a sausage stuffed into too tight clothing. My scalp was left tingling and itchy where my hair had receded back into my head. It felt like ants were crawling all over it. And looking around was yet another unwelcome surprise. I knew Harry needed his glasses, but he really was extremely myopic. I couldn't see much clearly beyond the twins to my left and the table to my right.
A table that had a second, unused and still completely full, flask of Polyjuice Potion sitting abandoned on it. Having some could be extremely useful while hunting Voldemort. I doubted I'd have the time or resources to brew any myself. I bit my lip, silently debating, and felt a prodding nudge in my side. No one seemed to be watching, except George, and it was just sitting there…
Glancing at George, he winked, then turned to Fred, and in unison, the two said, "Wow - we're identical!"
Their comment earned a few chuckles from the assembled group and provided an excellent distraction. I grabbed the flask with one hand and used my wand to whispered, "Geminio."
"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," Fred said, making several laugh as I tucked the stolen flask inside my jacket and returned the newly created fake to the table.
My heart was racing, certain Mad-Eye would have seen with his magical eye and was ready to tell me off, but he seemed too busy passing out properly fitting clothes. I took the offered clothes and avoided looking him in the eye. Hopefully, when he discovered the empty flask later, he wouldn't suspect me. Maybe he'd assume Mundungus nicked it to sell or something like that.
Harry looked mortified when everyone started changing, but I doubted he was anywhere near as embarrassed as I suddenly was. I'd forgotten that there would be a need to change this morning when I'd gotten dressed, so I was currently wearing a lacy red bra and miniscule matching panties that my mum had gotten me last Christmas in France. She'd insisted on getting me fancy undergarments since I "was all grown up now" and because I "would appreciate them sooner than I realized". Except, I could feel that Harry didn't quite fit inside them and I definitely needed to change into something roomier if I'd be expected to ride a thestral and fight. Oh Merlin! The lace, which had only barely covered all of me, was digging painfully into a body part I hadn't previously had and I had no desire to touch, even to fix my current discomfort. And thanks to the many eyelets and tiny size of the fabric, it would be no help at all in concealing Harry's anatomy from the rest of the room - myself included when I changed.
Determined to switch shirts as quickly as possible, it still wasn't fast enough to avoid drawing Fred and George's attention.
"Harry in a bra - that's a sight I could've lived without," Fred chuckled, faking a disgusted shiver. "Even such a fetching one."
"Wonder if we could design -" George said thoughtfully.
"Might be onto something there! We'll get on that first thing tomorrow," Fred agreed, grinning deviously. "Who knew that's what she was hiding," he added in a startled whisper that nonetheless carried in our close proximity. Luckily, George didn't comment, though his eyes were much wider than usual, not to mention unblinking, as he stared at me.
I unbuttoned my pants, then hissed, "Do you mind?" when they were still staring at me. George started laughing when he saw the peak of matching red lace at my hip, but at least he did look away then. Apparently, his curiosity didn't extend to wanting to see that much of Harry's bits.
I'd be lucky if I could ever look Harry in the eye again after this.
Fred picked up my discarded bra, holding it up by the tip of a finger and said, "Don't forget to pack this - you'll be missing it later!"
I snatched it from him, shooting him a dirty look, then quickly stuffed it in the rucksack Mad-Eye had handed me.
Refusing to acknowledge the twins laughing beside me, I hurriedly added the glasses and muttered, "Harry, your eyesight really is awful."
Once everyone was situated, Kingsley offered a hand to hoist me into an awkward perch behind him on the winged skeletal horse that remained invisible to me. Despite everything I'd been through, I had yet to witness death firsthand. I looked into what appeared to be empty air beneath me and grimaced. How was I expected to stay on top of something I couldn't even see?
As if sensing my discomfort, Kingsley said, "Hold on tighter."
I reluctantly wrapped both my arms around his waist and clutched handfuls of his purple robes, then sighed and asked, "What if I need to fight?"
"Here - I've got an idea," he said, conjuring a thin rope that looped around both our waists and held us loosely together. "This should keep you with me, but free up your hands if necessary, and help you keep your seat. It's reinforced with spells that will prevent you from falling."
"Thanks," I breathed, relaxing my death grip on the back of his cloak just a bit.
"We're headed to my flat in London. It's one of the closest. The flight shouldn't take too long," he told me, turning his head just enough that the fading daylight winked off his earring and shiny bald head.
"The Death Eaters will expect Harry to be with the strongest Aurors. That means they'll likely target Mad-Eye and us. I know you've fought before, but if it comes down to it - don't be afraid to do what you must, understood?"
"Y-yes," I said uneasily. I felt less confident masquerading as Harry. My movements and control of my limbs was much clumsier and sluggish. Kingsley turned around a bit more and reached to pat my hand reassuringly. I cleared my throat, sat up straighter, and said, "I've got this."
Moody sounded the countdown, then we were off, shooting straight upward into the sky at twilight along with the six other pairs.
They were waiting for us.
The ring of Death Eaters formed a large circle, completely surrounding Harry's childhood home. I gasped, gripping Kingsley tighter as they converged en masse, jets of deadly green light coming from everywhere at once.
"Hang on!" Kingsley yelled, diving lower to narrowly avoid two spells that collided right where we'd just been. The sparks exploded outward along with the smell of burning hair.
Catching sight of a Death Eater gaining on us, I yelled, "Right! He's on the right!"
"Thanks," he gasped and veered off to the left.
Several Death Eaters broke off to follow close on our tail. Kingsley was guiding the thestral in a complicated series of faints and zigzags through the air that left my stomach churning and dangerously close to expelling the meal I'd hastily consumed at the Burrow this afternoon. All I could do was hang on while he tried to dodge the spells cast our way.
"Cover us!" he shouted, leveling out a bit so I could twist around and take aim at our pursuers.
"Immobulus!" I cried repeatedly, trying and failing to stop at least one of the Death Eaters from following. But again, and again, I missed. At least they were too busy ducking my spells to send many our way.
"How many?" he asked, focused on outmaneuvering our pursuers and trusting me to keep us from getting hit.
"Five!"
Suddenly, one broke off and came at us from below.
"REDUCTO!" he shouted, aiming a Reductor Curse at the thestral we were riding.
"Protego!" The shield charm only barely formed in time to block the spell that would have sent Kingsley and I falling to our deaths.
"Well done," he praised. "Now hang on," he warned before swerving around to fly straight at the startled Death Eaters.
The unexpected move distracted them enough that Kingsley was able to hit one as we flew straight through the center of their line. I didn't know what spell he used, but his target dropped back, giving up the chase. Kingsley turned the thestral upward, arching back over the scattered Death Eaters as they struggled to reform their line and continue their advance.
"Aim a bit in front of your target," Kingsley instructed.
"Right," I said, grateful for the advice.
This was much more difficult than anything we'd practiced in the DA back when Harry had been teaching us how to defend ourselves. Here, half my mind was preoccupied with staying atop my invisible mount, despite what Kingsley said about the rope doing that for me. Plus, the additional obstacles of an unfamiliar body and the awkward, twisted perch I was stuck in made it even more challenging to hit my targets.
We were flying higher than ever now, and my head spun dizzily everytime I caught a glimpse of the ground so very far below. Last time I'd ridden a thestral, it had directed itself, and the ride had been fairly smooth. This time, however, Kingsley was steering, and it was like being on a boat during a hurricane.
"Descendo," I cried, trying to send one of the broom riding Death Eaters back to the ground and away from us. That time I managed to hit his leg, and the Death Eater's broom dipped towards the ground, flying downward for several feet, before he corrected his flight path and rose back up to follow us. So much for that idea.
While I'd been watching the one I hit, another had conjured a magical rope. It seemed to glow with electrical sparks of blue light flickering along it. He was lazily circling it through the air above his head like a lasso that I assumed he hoped to ensnare us with.
"Diffindo!" I shouted, aiming to cut the rope with the Severing Charm, but again I missed. Except this time I hit the Death Eater - right in the neck. A long slice opened up across his throat and a massive fountain of blood sprayed in a several foot arc through the sky. Each of the remaining Death Eaters even paused to watch the surging scarlet fireworks.
He wasn't wearing a mask. His brown hair, the color of mud, was short, buzzed close to his head. Eyes as dark coal stared accusingly at me. Menace and shock contorted his bearded face. The hand holding the rope fell to his side, the conjured rope vanishing as if it had never existed. His fingers fluttered, as if he wished to reach for his neck, to stop his life from gushing outward with every beat of his heart, but they never made it to their destination.
"No," I whispered, horrified by what I was seeing. Kingsley turned to look as well, and even the thestral seemed to slow his flight as the scene unfolded before us.
One second. Two. Then the injured Death Eater slumped to the side and plummeted off his broom, falling rapidly towards the ground. Drops of ruby rain seemed to sprinkle steadily from the sky on his way down. None of his cohorts went to his aid.
"I just… Is he…"
"Focus! Don't think about it just now. We still need - Voldemort!"
"What?" I squeaked.
"He - he's flying…"
"How is that even possible?"
"Target the others - I'll take him," he ordered, ignoring my question. The deep tones of his voice centered me.
There wasn't even time to worry or find acceptance in the fact that this - Voldemort targeting us - would likely mean my death. But at least if Voldemort was distracted with us, Harry would have a chance to get away.
Kingsley turned the thestral to face off with Voldemort while I aimed spell after spell at the three remaining Death Eaters, shooting more Freezing Charms as fast as possible.
The next minute or two was a blur of color and light and adrenaline. I could feel and hear moving behind me, but I was too focused on blocking the multitude of spells being shot at us to witness Kingsley's duel. One of the Death Eater's hoods had fallen off, and I distantly realized that he strongly reminded me of Sirius. He had the same hollow-eyed, gauntness and skeletal appearance. As well as the limp matted hair that came with years of poor hygiene or a stint in Azkaban.
Voldemort retreated, suddenly and without warning. I only knew he was gone because Kingsley had momentarily paused, yet I could still feel him breathing behind me.
Alarmed, I shouted to Kingsley, "What's happening?"
Voldemort had only barely arrived, and he certainly hadn't accomplished what he targeted us to do. I was still breathing, after all.
The other Death Eaters rushed to follow before Kingsley even had a chance to respond. Kingsley took advantage of their hasty departure to fire a final shot from over my shoulder at the slowest, the one without a hood, hitting him in the arm. I could see blood dripping as he pulled his arm in to cradle against his chest, and he headed to ground instead of following his master.
"They're gone," Kingsley said, sounding just as baffled as I felt.
"Yes, but why?"
"I don't know. Let's get out of here. The Portkey should activate soon."
We quickly resumed our course to Kingsley's flat and arrived only a few minutes later. It was surprising just how much ground we'd covered during the fight. Hopefully no Muggles had caught sight of us or the others. The last thing we needed was to have the Ministry on our cases over this with legitimate evidence against us.
"They knew," Kingsley said after quickly ushering me into his sitting room. He'd paused outside only long enough to send the thestral back to Hogwarts.
"It does seem likely," I admitted, moving to look outside and check that no Death Eaters had followed us or were lurking outside, just waiting to ambush us.
Kingsley sighed heavily and moved to stand behind me. I looked back towards him, but he was quiet, his brow wrinkled with puzzling or unpleasant thoughts. I didn't know him well enough to be able to decipher his expression.
I busied myself with taking in the room while I waited for him to speak. It was nearly empty, a sofa and coffee table the only items in the room. No pictures adorned the walls and nothing was left out on the table top. Somehow I doubted he'd cleaned just because I would be here for a few minutes. It seemed much more likely that he was simply a workaholic and hadn't seen any reason to waste time decorating when he was rarely home. And aside from his earring, he didn't really seem the type to waste effort on anything outside of the bare necessities.
"There's no other explanation for them being ready like that," he finally said.
"You think someone told them? That someone… " I said trailing off at the implication.
Obviously it was none of the Weasleys. They were right there, each one of them risking their lives. Besides, they all loved Harry too much to ever even consider selling him out. Same with Lupin and Tonk. Of all the others… Mundungus was rather shady. But it had been his idea to have seven Harrys, and he was far too cowardly to risk his own life by coming along if he had told someone.
The only other explanation was that someone might have let something slip accidently. It was possible. Hagrid had done so on more than one occasion in the past. He did so with alarming frequency if I were being entirely truthful. It felt disloyal even thinking it, let alone voicing the thoughts, but that didn't change the past. Perhaps it really was dangerous and careless to continue trusting him with sensitive information - especially when there were lives at stake.
"Yes."
"Deliberately? But -"
"Are you injured?" Kingsley asked, cutting me off. He looked angry, and very disinclined to discuss his worries or suspicions at the moment.
"No. You?" He shook his head, giving a disbelieving little huff. As though our luck was completely unbelievable. Honestly, it truly was. Voldemort and five Death Eaters came after us and we were both completely uninjured.
"You're not a bad fighter. Mad-Eye was right to put you with me."
"How so?"
"I told you early. They were going to target the strongest, thinking Mad-Eye or I would be the most likely to have Harry. The idea was to keep everyone alive, meaning I needed someone who could hold their own paired with me."
Part of me wondered if he was only saying that because he'd witnessed my fight with Ron during the Order meeting the other week. Regardless, it was nice to hear. Then I remember what had happened during the fight.
"Did you recognize the man I hit?"
"I can't be sure," he said at last, though his hesitation made me suspect that he wouldn't tell me even if he did know.
"Is… I mean, could… Well, is there a chance he survived?" I asked, haltingly. Then begged, or more accurately - demanded, "Be honest. Please."
After all, I still hadn't been able to see the thestral I was riding by the time we'd landed. Though that could have been because he hadn't died until he'd landed. Or it could have been support for a theory I'd read about that said there was a lag between witnessing death and actually being able to see the thestrals. Some had even documented the lag as lasting as long as three months before.
"It's possible, but highly unlikely. Not with that much blood loss." I closed my eyes against the burning sting of unshed tears, shame and nausea swelling within me.
"Please don't tell the others! Harry would never understand," I pleaded.
I'd tell him one day, Harry and I didn't really have secrets, but not until all of this was over. He had more important things to worry about right now. Besides, I needed to figure out how to handle living with myself, and how to handle my feelings on the matter first. There was no way I'd be able to handle dealing with anyone else's emotions or opinions about my actions until I had come to terms with it myself.
"It wasn't intentional. You were fighting for your life," Kingsley assured, attempting to justify my actions.
"That won't matter. Harry is too… noble. He'd never sink to their level. And that's precisely had he'd see this." Actually, he'd probably understand that it had been an accident, but he'd second guess me after this and he'd probably be disappointed. The very idea of letting Harry down was painful to even think about.
"This is a war."
"That doesn't make it all right. And if Harry knew… He wouldn't look at me the same. I need him to trust me - now more than ever," I explained, needing him to understand something I could only barely articulate myself.
"Because of Albus's mission?"
"Yes. Harry will need my help," I answered cautiously. If he pressed for details…
"What is it you three are doing?"
"I can't say. Professor Dumbledore said to keep it secret," I ventured, hoping he'd drop it.
To my relief, he did. Nodding, he said, "All right."
Kingsley checked the time, then left the room only to return with an old, bent coat hanger made of wire a minute later.
"Portkey," he say by way of explanation then surveyed me intently. "Just a few more minutes." I took hold of the hanger with him, but when I didn't respond, he added, "I know it truly was an accident."
"It was a man's life. One I ended," I said shortly.
"You can't dwell on it. Or let it fester inside you. It seems you and Harry have been fighting for so long, that sometimes I forget just how young you still are. If you need to talk, I understand how you're feeling," he said meaningfully. I supposed as an Auror he'd been forced to take a life in the past as well. "Tonks and Remus would both understand as well if you'd feel more comfortable speaking with one of them."
With a flash of blue, the Portkey activated, saving me from having to respond. The spinning sensation reminded me of a carnival ride, only far less fun and entertaining. It seemed quite possible that I'd unintentionally left my stomach back in Kingsley's flat.
The Polyjuice Potion was nearly worn off by the time we landed in the back garden of the Burrow. I had to reach higher, and my hair was longer and bushier by the time I'd thrown my arms around Harry in relief. To see him standing there safe and whole was like taking a deep breath after nearly drowning. The plan had worked. It had all been worth it.
In less than a minute, Kingsley and Remus had briefed one another and we were back to waiting. Endless waiting. My emotions were on a rollercoaster. On one hand, I was grateful to Kingsley for keeping my secret, that I'd been the one to kill a Death Eater, on another, I was worried about George after hearing about his injured ear, and on yet another - and yes, I knew I didn't even technically have three hands - I was terrified something had happened to Ron. My anxiety over Ron kept me rooted in place. So while I was surprised by my desire to check on George and see for myself that he would be all right, I couldn't bring myself to move until I saw Ron here, safe and alive, for myself.
Harry left me after a couple minutes to check on George himself, and Kingsley and Remus excused themselves to discuss potential traitors. I wasn't even upset about being left out of the conversation because I was "too young" and "not in the Order".
As a result, I was alone when Mr. Weasley and Fred arrived.
"Everyone else back already?" Mr. Weasley asked, far too calmly for someone fresh from a battle.
"Mr. Weasley, George was hurt," I said cautiously. He took off running for the house at once, but Fred remained immobile, staring intently at me, waiting for more. "He's alive," I reassured.
That was enough to send Fred off in his father's wake. He caught up quickly when it appeared that Mr. Weasley had been stopped at the door.
After some commotion they were let inside and I remained waiting, alone, for Ron.
I refused to consider any possible explanation for why he wasn't back yet that didn't involve Ron eventually showing up. He must have been distracted and missed his Portkey. It wasn't possible that he wouldn't appear at any moment. He was just late. That was all this was. He wanted to make an entrance after getting to fight in a battle.
At least waiting was keeping my mind occupied and off other, rather unpleasant, memories.
After a few minutes Harry joined me in my silent vigil. Others might have come out as well, but I was past noticing.
When Ron and Tonks finally landed, I only had eyes for Ron. It was as if I couldn't get my arms wrapped around him quickly enough. And once my arms were there, I held on as tightly as I physically could. I heard his breath catch for a instant before he spoke.
"You're okay," Ron murmured, squeezing me back just as tightly. I burrowed closer, needing to feel that he was safe, alive, here.
"I thought - I thought -" I gasped, only barely able to acknowledge the fear that had gripped me for the last half hour or so while I waited.
"'M all right. 'M fine," he said, his hand roughly patting my back, awkward yet real.
"Ron was great. Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters," Tonks said. I idly wondered if he'd felt the remorse I did. If the Death Eater had fallen, he might have accidentally killed someone as I had. But they were both beaming, so maybe another Death Eater had scooped up their falling friend. It was rather unlikely that we'd both accidentally killed someone. Tonks continued, "straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom -"
"You did?" I asked, eager to hear about his heroics from him. He'd always loved being in the spotlight and telling his side of events. Right now I just wanted to hear his voice, hear for myself that he was fine.
"Always the tone of surprise," he huffed, pulling free and turning away. And just like that I had been dismissed. " Are we the last back?"
He didn't comment or even look at me as Kingsley shared an edited version of our escape. Still he ignored me as Bill and Fleur, the last to arrive, came with the heartbreaking news of Mad-Eye's death. Even when we went to confront Harry about leaving, he simply followed me out without once saying a word to me. So much for the progress we'd made over the last couple weeks. And now, when I could have used his support to cope with what I'd done.
The Burrow was finally quiet, everyone falling into their beds exhausted after the evening's events. I could hear snoring coming from multiple rooms.
After hearing Harry talk about leaving, just when he'd arrived, I knew I'd have to be ready to go in an instant or he'd leave us behind. We'd tried to talk him out of going immediately, but it was obvious how impatient he was to get started. If we hadn't guilted him, he'd already be gone now. All of my stuff was packed, and repacked after the latest book sorting, so the only part left to do was add Ron and Harry's things to my beaded purse.
Ron had some clothes in the wash downstairs. Considering I couldn't sleep anyways, for fear of nightmares about what I'd done tonight, I doubted Mrs. Weasley would notice if I slipped down and nicked them before they made their way up to Ron's room. She'd probably think she'd delegated the task to one of us if she did find them missing.
We'd recently admitted that the three of us would be dropping out of Hogwarts, and Mrs. Weasley had taken the news about as well as expected. Denial. Or anger. I guess it depended on the moment, but those were the best words to describe her state of mind regarding the issue. Then there was the mission itself. Remus and Mr. Weasley had dropped the subject and let it be after just a question or two, same as Kingsley had, but Mrs. Weasley was a whole different matter. She just wouldn't let it drop. Every few minutes it seemed she -
"You need to learn to be stealthier."
I gave a startled squeak and jumped about a foot out of my skin when the voice came unexpectedly from the living room.
"I heard you coming all the way down and I only have one ear."
"George!" I breathed, the startled exclamation coming out barely louder than a sigh. "Merlin's pants, you scared me," I scolded. A tiny fire flared up, dim, but enough to see George's outline reclining on the sofa.
"Such colorful language. How delightfully unexpected," he teased, chuckling quietly.
"What are you doing down here all alone?" I asked, sitting beside him. His bandages looked fresh, though scarlet bloomed in the middle like a little starburst.
He looked away, shoulders slumping a little before he took a deep breath and answered, "Couldn't sleep. Potions aren't working."
"Because it's a Dark Curse," I said knowingly. "How much pain are you in?"
"A fair bit, but I'll manage," he said with a careless shrug, then winced.
I reached to touch the bandage, noting the size of the starburst had grown, but stopped just short of actually touching him. Not only did I not want to cause him pain, but it was rather presumptuous of me to assume he'd welcome my touch. His breathing was short and fast, and more than a little ragged. "Sorry," I muttered, letting my hand drop quickly back to my lap.
"I must look a sight. So much for being the better looking twin," he said disparagingly.
"It makes you look rather dashing if you ask me," I said. The words were out before I realized what I'd intended to say.
"Into the missing body parts look, are you?" The question was mocking, and full of obvious disbelief.
"It's a visible sign of your bravery. Not many fight a war and come out unscathed," I said seriously, adding, "Besides, with your shaggy hair, you'll barely see it."
"Most witches' stomachs will turn when they get a good look at the gaping hole in my head," he said, sounding more vulnerable than I'd ever heard before. It was startling. His eyes were intense, seeking an honest answer to a worry that his family would likely brush off entirely given their relief that he'd managed to survive.
"If it does, then she isn't for you. Would you really want someone that doesn't understand everything you've done to stand against Voldemort? Someone that didn't fight beside you?"
"No."
"Then as I said, it doesn't matter. Besides, I was telling the truth. It's really nowhere near as hideous as you seem to think it is. Seeing the reminder of your heroism just makes you more attractive in my opinion," I said honestly.
"You think I'm attractive?" He asked in genuine surprise.
"Well… I mean…"
I had no idea how to respond to that. The truth was that I found him very attractive. I'm not entirely certain I'd ever realized it before now, but he truly was. He and Fred were probably the most attractive of the Weasley brothers. He was a little shorter than Ron, but still fairly tall at six feet. His hair was a touch darker, the same vibrant shade as Ginny's instead of the orangey one the other Weasleys' sported. He was more obviously fit too. Ron was lanky, all arms and legs and angles and bones. George had muscle. He was strong, his biceps seemed carved out of marble, while the outline of his chest and abs were visible beneath the tightly stretched grey shirt he was wearing.
My mouth was dry. I tried and failed to swallow twice before looking back up to his face, and into his hazel eyes. The blue and brown swirled together in an interlocking abstract pattern. They were so much more unusual than Ron's clear blue ones. Never before had I noted their intricacy.
He was a frozen statue, letting me look my fill without saying a word. Waiting to hear if I meant what I'd said, or if I'd just been being kind due to his injury.
Discomfort swamped me. Appearance had never really mattered to me before, aside from Lockhart, but right now I was just like any other teenage girl. It felt inappropriate to think of him this way though. Worse, now that I'd had the realization, I worried I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it.
"Use it as a prop," I finally said, taking the cowardly way out by avoiding the question altogether. He looked disappointed, but I continued before he could say anything more about it. "You've devoted your life to making people laugh. If you're worried about people pitying you now, make jokes about it like you did tonight."
"That was for Fred's sake. I knew how worried he was."
"But it made everyone laugh, not just him," I pointed out, relieved that he let the subject change without pushing it.
"It's just such a shame about all of Fleur's Veela cousins!"
"You poor thing," I said dryly, making him laugh.
"George, are you -" Fred said worriedly, hurrying down the stairs. He stopped when he saw us, looking back and forth twice before asking, "What's going on?"
There was an undeniable amount of suspicion in the question, and I reacted at once, stammering, "He - he couldn't sleep. I was just keeping him company. His ear… "
"Thanks. I can take over if you want to get some sleep," Fred said, dismissing me entirely to focus on his brother. I didn't understand why I felt so uncomfortable, but I did. I hesitated for only another few seconds before heading towards the stairs.
Fred was too busy giving George an intense look to notice when I left.
I paused on the steps to look back at the brothers. They were in the middle of a tense conversation. George was shaking his head as Fred spoke. I caught only one word - Ron. It was enough to send me flying back upstairs feeling unaccountably guilty.