Part 4 - A Poison?

Cursebreaker is a very dangerous profession. Everyone hears about how they're required to be almost foolishly brave, and insanely smart, having to achieve Outstanding OWL's in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Charms, but what never seems to get very much press is that they're also required to keep regularly updated wills. Cursebreakers have a nasty habit of dying young.

My mom had a will. She was only thirty-eight-years-old when she died, hardly the age to be prepared for such an eventuality, but she was nonetheless.

She picked out where she wanted to be buried, on the banks of a brilliant glacial pool beneath a soaring granite rock face in the Torres del Paine mountains of Chile. She even wrote out the exact description she wanted on her headstone, an Edgar Allan Poe poem (I remember joking with her that Edgar Allan Poe wrote Edgar Allan Poems. Stupid, I know, but it was just a special thing between us).

She also left a book. She left it to me. She made it into a portkey that went to the spot she wanted to be buried. The book itself was sort of a journal. It had entries going as far back as her days at Hogwarts, detailed narrations of important events in her life, but mostly just her favorite quotes and poems, painstakingly recorded in her long, elegant script.

The first time I read the book was just after Remus managed to drag me away from my mom's grave. He'd taken me there, and I'd collapsed on top of it, just sobbing for hours. With all my thoughts of vengeance, I guess I never really had a chance to grieve properly, and putting it off for two years had only made it worse.

He forced me to leave because he said my skin was starting to turn blue, and I was shivering uncontrollably. I'd been difficult and rebellious and not dressed warmly like he told me to (because he'd told me to, actually). A tank top and shorts are definitely not proper attire for a Chilean winter.

We arrived in the middle of the street in front of Grimmauld place, Remus having side-apparated with me since I was too distraught to do it myself, not to mention I really hadn't wanted to leave. In fact, I was struggling quite wildly.

"Let go!" I sobbed, fighting the arms around me as he carried me back towards the house. He'd wrapped me in his cloak to warm me up, and I was too tangled in it to escape him, not to mention I could hardly see or breathe from the amount of crying I'd done.

"S-Stop!" I shouted, "Let me go! I want to go back! I want to stay with her!" I could feel Remus sigh against me, his thin chest rising and falling, his warm breath stirring my disheveled blonde hair. "You can't stay there," He told me quietly, carrying me into the front yard and reactivating the wards that were keeping me trapped on the grounds, "She wouldn't have wanted you to waste away missing her."

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW!" I shrieked, twisting, and squirming, and finally getting him to drop me after I elbowed him in the head and stomach. My knees grated painfully against the walkway when I slammed down on them, scraping open and staining the rough stones with blood. I couldn't find the strength or desire to get up again, just swiping at my eyes with grimy hands, and whimpering angrily, "How do you know what she wanted! You were never there! You didn't know her at all!"

"Because," He replied after a long pause that was filled with my sobbing. He sounded hurt, and lost, "Because she said that's not what she wanted."

I looked up to yell at him again, to ask if he could communicate with the dead now, but he was holding out the book that we'd used as a portkey. It was worn brown leather, with an intricate, gold crisscrossing pattern inlaid on the cover, and gold gilding on the edges of its pages. "Here," He said sadly, "She left it to you. Her will said you should get it when she died. There's a letter to you on the first page."

I snatched the book away from him, hurriedly opening it as I growled, "And you just went ahead and read it, did you!" I was pissed, but only had the energy to be pissed for about two seconds. Then I looked down into a page full of my mom's familiar, elegant writing, and broke down crying again, barely able to make it through the length of the letter before I totally lost it.

I've only ever managed to read it that one time. It hurts too much to do again, and every time I've tried, I've only ended up a blubbering mess after the first few sentences. Basically, everything Remus claimed about how she left him was true. She was sorry she never told me, and said if I ever needed anything he was the one to go to, and not to be too sad without her, and just lots of stuff like that.

By the time I got to 'Love Always, Mom,' I was a completely incoherent wreck, crying, and cursing, and still on my knees on the ground, still shivering from the cold at her gravesite despite the fact that it was hot and sunny there in front of the Grimmauld mansion. The whole situation was too real, too much to handle...

Vaguely, I registered Remus sitting down beside me, pulling me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me, rocking me and humming as he shushed me softly. The side of me that was still angry as hell at that man was telling me to take the opportunity to kill him. It was the perfect chance. I was close, and he wouldn't see it coming. However, the scared, hurting little girl inside me just wanted someone to hold her like that, to give love, and comfort, so I couldn't do it.

I exhausted myself crying into his arms, for the first time in my life finally knowing what it was like to have a real father.

xxXxx

I was a mess after that. Rock bottom doesn't even cover it. Imagine hitting rock bottom, then breaking and bloodying all your fingernails digging yourself down another few hundred feet, and that barely describes how I felt.

I couldn't get out of bed, deep, dark depression making me feel physically ill. I refused to eat, just cried and slept all the time, and kept hugging my mom's journal, like if I hugged it hard enough, it would turn into her and hug me back. Even that pleasant delusion didn't make me feel any better.

The first few days, no one was that concerned. I heard Remus talking to Sirius just outside my room, telling him that I just needed time to get over the grief and shock, that I delayed mourning my mom so now it was going to be very hard for me to deal with. They all left me mostly alone.

After two weeks, though, I could tell the inhabitants of Twelve Grimmauld Place were quickly growing concerned. Remus sat with me a lot, not seeming to mind that I never talked to him as he just petted my hair and tried to say kind, reassuring things. But then he disappeared for a few days, as did Bill and Roo, who had also taken to checking up on me every once in awhile. As distraught as I was, I wouldn't even have noticed that they were gone if it hadn't been for the twins.

They bounced into my room one morning with big smiles on their faces. Still unable to tell them apart, I found myself incredibly frustrated when one of them ripped open my curtains and I realized I would probably never figure out which one had done it, so I wouldn't know which one to beat up later.

"Morning, kitten," The non-curtain twin chimed happily as he flopped beside me into the bed, setting a tray of food on my nightstand as he inquired, "Hungry?"

I didn't answer, rolling away from him onto my side, and curling into a little ball as I hid my face in the pillow I was strangling. "Aw, come on, sweetpea, you gotta eat something," The curtain twin laughed as he too crawled into bed beside me, trying to pry the pillow away, "You gotta keep your strength up so you have the energy to agree to be our girlfriend."

"Ya," His brother beamed, joking, yet still sounding smugly proud of himself as he rested his squared chin on my shoulder and one hand on my hip, squeezing lightly through many thick blankets, "But mostly just for after you agree to be our girlfriend. We've been known to give quite the workout."

I didn't even have the energy to shove him off. They were asking me to date the both of them at the same time, but, more than that, they seemed sure that not only would I agree, but I would also have sex with them. I'm definitely not that kind of girl, and should've been furious that they suggested I was, but the way they were squirming around in my bed, neither seeming to possess the ability to not fidget for even the smallest length of time, reminded me of my mom.

She used to be the same way, barely able to sit still, always full of life and energy, always ready for a new adventure, even if it was just a run around the block.

I started thinking about her, how still her body must be inside her coffin, how she'd hate the idea of never being able to move for the rest of forever. She was dead, and I thought about how she would never again be able to randomly climb to the top of a brick wall as we were walking down a street, or jump through puddles during a rain storm, or link her arm with mine and sing "We're Off to See the Wizard" as we went into Gringotts to visit her boss. All those fun, amazing things I loved about my mom were gone, and would never come back. I lost a big part of myself with her, more than I even realized.

The ache in my chest that had been there since she died had grown much stronger in the past weeks. Before, I could mostly ignore it, but now it was so intense that it hurt, a tight, constricting, stabbing pain that brought tears to my eyes whether I wanted them there or not. Only those who know real grief will ever be able to understand that kind of agony. I whimpered softly, clutching at my heart and pressing my face harder into the pillow.

"So, what do you say to us sneaking you out for lunch?" The twin in front of me, the one who pulled the curtains, asked brightly. With a laugh, his brother added, "Anywhere you wanna go. Come on, it'll be fun. You should really get out of this room... the color is a bit painful."

They paused to hear my answer (though they didn't sit still), and the silence finally made my stifled sobs audible. I could immediately sense them tense up, evidently disturbed that I was crying.

"Hey, angel," The curtain twin cooed, brushing hair off my cheek and gently prodding me to pick my head up out of the pillow. Reluctantly, I did, only to be met with a round, freckled face full of concern. I sniffled pitifully, hating that I was such a weak, blubbering mess, and unable to do a damn thing about it.

"Don't cry," The other twin commanded softly, cuddling closer and throwing his arms around me for a reassuring squeeze, "We were just joking around. We're sorry."

"Ya," Curtain added, holding my face in both hands, brushing away tears from my swollen, yellowy-amber eyes with his thick, stubby thumbs, "We were just trying to cheer you up with a laugh."

I hiccupped, and coughed, and tore away from his intense blue gaze, throwing myself back into the bed, letting my body began to shake violently as I returned to uncontrollable weeping once again.

I expected the twins to leave, to just let me be alone with my grief, but they didn't. They stayed, wordlessly curling up on either side of my body and wrapping their arms tightly around me, holding me while I just let go.

xxXxx

"Where's Remus?" It took me almost half the day to calm down, and that was the first thing I asked when I had. I felt like shit, exhausted, and achey all over, and I just wanted to close my eyes and never open them again.

The twin sitting cross-legged behind me, the one who was making me shiver by lightly drawing designs on the exposed skin of my lower back, who I'd been led to believe was Fred from faint shadow of a bruise I'd given him around his left eye, leaned over my face, smiling softly as he teased, "Why? Looking to have another go at him?"

"You should be careful with that old dog," George added, lightly toying with my hair while my head rested against his chest where he'd placed it, "He's quite advanced in years, and can't quite keep up with a young pup like you, especially when you're trying to kill him."

It was a valiant effort at getting a laugh out of the situation, but I really didn't have one in me. I shut my eyes, more tears leaking from them as my arms tightened around George, and I sputtered helplessly, "I... I just wanted to know where he went."

"Oh, of course, Peaches," George soothed, "We know. We didn't mean anything by it." I felt Fred move his light tracing higher on my back as he offered, "Don't worry about Lupin. Him, and Bill, and Roo are all laid up for a few days on account of the moon."

I was a bit confused, furrowing my eyebrows as I asked, "Moon? What?"

I felt both twins tense again, remaining silent for a few moments before Fred swore under his breath, "Shit. She doesn't know yet."

"Know what?" I inquired weakly, curious, but too tired to put very much effort into said curiosity. George squirmed a bit beneath me, going back to petting my hair as he soothed dismissively, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll find out eventually."

Normally, I probably would've pinned him face down into the bed, twisted his arm behind his back, and threatened to break it unless he told me. At that time though, I couldn't find the willpower, and merely curled up on George's chest, letting his steady heartbeat put me into a fitful sleep.

xxXxx

More days and weeks passed. Remus came back, looking haggard and tired, as did Bill and Roo. The twins spent a lot more time curled up on either side of me, trying to get me to cheer up, but I was far past their skills, and that is really saying something because those two could probably make Hitler crap himself laughing.

I don't think Remus liked them hanging out with me though. They were always hugging me, and touching me, and calling me sweet little nicknames, and Remus would just sit and glare silently until they had to leave to go to work. Only when they were gone would he finally relax.

Bill and Roo liked laying in my bed with me, too. Bill tried to get me to talk to him about cursebreaker stuff. Apparently, he had met my mom on a few occasions, though the few times he tried to talk to me about when and how I immediately broke down again. Roo just chattered on about anything and everything as she crawled around on top of me, and played with my hair. I guess she liked it because it was long and blonde.

"Daddy," I woke up one afternoon about a month and a half into my depression to find that Bill and Roo had arrived while I'd been asleep. My eyes weren't open, but I somehow knew it was just the two of them, that Remus and the twins weren't in the room.

"Yes, love?" I heard Bill answer, feeling him shift beside me in the big bed as he turned the pages in what sounded like a newspaper. Roo was seated beside my head, her swift little fingers combing knots out of my hair as she asked, "Why is Leila sad?"

I remember thinking that I should just write a book on the subject so people would stop fucking asking. Cynical, I know, but that's just my way.

With a deep sigh, Bill lowered the newspaper, pausing before he answered quietly, "Because she misses her mummy, love."

"Oh," The little girl chirped, already beginning to swiftly and expertly braid my long hair. After another moment of silence, she pressed, "Did her mummy go away like mine did?" Still pretending to be asleep, I felt tears come to my closed eyes, soaking into my already wet pillow. I wasn't quite sure if they were for me, or poor, motherless Roo, but they were there, and hurt all the same.

Bill sounded like he was in pain as well when he answered softly, "No, Leila's mummy went to Heaven to be with the angels." That comment certainly didn't help me.

The little fingers on my scalp were sending shivers all down my spine, but I refused to let myself wake. I didn't want to have to deal with being awake. "How come?" I heard Roo demand petulantly, "How come she wanted to be with the angels more than Leila?" Good fucking question... let's see what Professor Chewtoy had to say about that one...

"She didn't," The little girl's father informed her gently, "Leila's mummy wanted to stay with Leila forever, but she got very hurt, and had to go be with the angels so they could take care of her." Have I ever mentioned that I hate cheerful euphemisms for rape, torture, and murder? Well, I do, and that was one of the sappiest ones I'd ever heard!

"Will she ever come back?" Roo asked quietly, pausing her work in my hair as she finished the braid. She spent a few moments admiring her work, then began to undo it. I could hear Bill sigh again, explaining, "No, love. She has to stay with the angels. That's her home now." Fuck. I wanted to scream. "But how come?" The girl demanded. I'd had enough.

"Because she's fucking DEAD!" I shouted, clumsily forcing my tired body up out of bed. After grabbing my mom's book, I stomped out of there, leaving the shocked pair staring after me, their wide, matching blue eyes clashing horribly with the hideous mauve paint on the walls.

xxXxx

I hid out in Charlie's room, because it was the only one that was uninhabited, and safe, and had a color scheme that was not horribly offensive to the optical senses. It was three days before anyone found me, and even then it was completely by accident.

I was awake, seeming to have saturated my body with sleep so much that by that point it was refusing to do anymore. It was alright. The sleep was a good escape from reality, but a lot of times the evil, terrifying dream world my subconscious created for me was far worse.

I was curled up on my side in the bed, turned away from the door, towards the window. The sun was coming up, bringing a red glow of light to the crack in between the heavy, dark green curtains. I hadn't opened them since I'd been in the room, so it had been awhile since I got any light. When the other people in the house were looking after me, they always tried to keep my room bright and sunny for at least part of the day. Now that I was on my own, I didn't have to bother with that bullshit.

I was angry, and it was complicated. I was furious at my mom for lying to me about Remus, for eighteen years of hating my father just because she was too much of a coward to admit that she'd left him. But then I was disgusted with myself with being furious at her, because she was dead, and I loved her too much to resent her like that. And Remus himself, I had no idea what to do about him. Did I still hate him? He hadn't actually left us, but what happened to my mom was still his fault! He's the one who pissed off the Death Eaters, and he's the reason that they came for us! Could I actually forgive something like that? Did I want a relationship with him?

Ugh, like I said, complicated.

So, I was definitely in my own little universe. That's probably why I didn't hear the door open, or close, or clothes being shed as a person moved about in the tiny room. I only finally realized that someone else was there when he collapsed right on top of me.

"What the..." A startled voice yelped as I whimpered and tried to squirm out from under the hard body squishing mine. Once he rolled off of me, I turned, glancing up through tears at Charlie Weasley's confused face. Apparently, he was back.

"Er..." He began, shirtless, scratching at his closely cropped ginger hair, "Hello... What are you doing in my bed?"

I sobbed a completely hysterical, incoherent response, which, thankfully, he only let me carry on with for a moment or two before cutting in, "Whoa, calm down. Take a breath, love."

"I-I'm sorry," I managed to stutter a few shallow gulps of air later, "I just h-had to get away. I'll leave if you want me to..."

He smiled softly, making me notice that he had a thick white bandage wrapped around his left bicep as he reached down to wipe a tear off my cheek, and said sleepily, "And why would I want you to do that? There are definitely worse things than coming home after an exhausting journey to find a pretty girl in your bed."

I knew it was a joke, because he winked playfully, but I was still in no mood to laugh. With his permission to remain, I curled up on my side again, going back to staring at the crack in the curtains. The mattress shifted as he lay down and put his arms around my body, pulling me tightly against his broad chest.

"Don't cry," He instructed tenderly, tucking my head beneath his chin as he cuddled up behind me, wrapping his body around mine, "It'll be ok."

"You don't know that," I whispered, going for oppositional, but only pulling off pathetic. Utterly disgusted with myself, I just tried not to let my sobs shake the bed too much.

"Yes, I do," Charlie insisted, holding me tighter. His measured, deep breathing was almost hypnotic, and, without realizing it, I gradually calmed down enough to slow my own to match his pace. It was soothing, and, despite my earlier restlessness, I could feel my eyelids closing.

And then Charlie started to hum, a deep, tuneless melody that should've been odd coming from such a rugged, manly man, but just... fit.

That sweet, sad, slow little lullaby gently eased me into a peaceful slumber.

xxXxx

I woke up to find that the curtains had been opened, and Charlie was gone. Shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in, I sat up, and groggily looked around the small room.

After a few minutes, I started hearing muffled, unintelligible voices coming from the other side of the closed door. I didn't really care enough to investigate, so I laid back down in the bed, pulling the blankets tightly around myself as tears started to leak from my eyes of their own accord.

Awhile later, I heard the door slowly open and close, and footsteps pad softly towards the bed. The mattress dipped with a solid weight, and then a warm, broad body was pressed behind me once more. I knew it was Charlie.

"You told them I was in here," It wasn't a question, or accusation, just a blank statement of fact. I felt the stocky redhead's arms tighten as he agreed quietly, "Ya, I did. You've been hiding for days, love. Everyone was worried."

I didn't answer, merely curling my body into a smaller ball, and crying silently. Behind me, Charlie's sigh blew hot, moist air across my neck. He didn't say anything for a long time, but I could sense him watching, sense those bright blue eyes on me, full of pity.

Pity, that had to be why he was being so nice. I didn't want to be pitied, and the fact that I knew I was pitiable just made me feel worse about myself.

"Have you been eating?" The man finally inquired, his voice soft, gentle, concerned. I shook my head, and could sense an immediate scowl as he prodded me towards the side of the bed, ordering, "Well, you're going to now. Get up."

"I don't want to," I whispered, my voice heartbroken and cracking on every syllable, "I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."

"You think you're doing your mum any good lying here feeling sorry for yourself?" He demanded coldly, once again trying to shove me out of his bed, this time much harder, hard enough to have me sprawled across the floor. Tangled in his blankets, my whole right side stinging from the impact, I looked up at him with angry tears streaking down my face.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed, hysterical, and furious that he would talk about my mom like that, then shove me, and try to order me around. He was supposed to be nice!

"Get. Up," He commanded once more, standing over me with his rough hands balled into thick fists at his wide hips, "You're going to lunch even if I have to drag your skinny arse down there."

"GO TO HELL!" I shouted, clumsily struggling with the blankets wrapped around me, and probably looking like a complete whack job. Once I was free, I stood up, and glared, "You can't tell me what to do, so just go away and leave me alone!"

"Make me," He challenged, a mocking smirk on his face as he stood his ground. I don't even remember deciding to attack him, and then all of a sudden I had, and couldn't see through the angry tears, or hear anything aside from my own screaming and cursing as I swung blindly for his head.

I only managed to get one punch in. The damn bastard was a lot stronger than I was, and had me pinned face first against the wall in just a matter of seconds. I still maintain that he only got that upper hand that quickly because I hadn't really been at the top of my game...

"Your mum's dead, and she's not coming back," He stated flatly, holding my one of my arms twisted up between my shoulder blades with a biting grip on my wrist, hard enough to keep me still, but not really hard enough to seriously hurt me. My other hand scrabbled for purchase against the wall, ending up being pressed flat-palmed against the dark green plaster as Charlie shifted, and declared, "She lied to you, and you're allowed to be angry at her for that. You're allowed to grieve her death, and you're allowed to miss her like hell, but you're not allowed to harm to yourself just because you miss her. She's dead, but you're still alive, and you have to start acting like it. What would she say if she saw you now, huh? Sobbing like a baby, refusing to get out of bed, wasting away for not eating? She'd probably want to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours! Tell you to get your arse up, and quit being so damned foolish!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" I shrieked, struggling violently, and enraged because I knew that every word he said was true. I didn't like what I'd become, and my mom probably would've given me a good hard smack had she been alive to see it.

Charlie pressed his body harder against mine, his superior strength and weight enough to keep me from being able to move very much as he ignored my order, and continued, "I bet she'd be ashamed to hear that you were behaving like this! Like some spoiled little brat who thinks she's the only person to have ever lost someone that she loves! Driving away all the people who still love her and care about her just because she's so blinded by grief! You think this is how your mum would've wanted you to treat her memory? To have it be a poison to you?"

I couldn't take the truth in his words. Gradually, my anger faded to misery once more, my struggle ceased, and all that was left was my weak body trapped limply between Charlie and the wall.

"It hurts," I whimpered quietly, my chest feeling far too tight as I tried to stifle hiccupping sobs. My forehead dropped, thumping hard against the wall and then resting there, the cool plaster surface a sharp contrast to the fevered temperature of my sticky, unwashed skin.

"I know, love," Charlie soothed quietly as he brushed hair away from my tear-streaked face. Glancing over my shoulder, I got caught up for a moment in his clear blue eyes, the kindness pooled in them. "I know," He assured again, softer this time, his grip on my arms loosening, "And it's not the kind of hurt that will ever go away, but it will get easier. Not if you make yourself ill over your grief though. You've gotta live long enough to heal if you want to start feeling better. That's what your mom would've wanted, ya?"

I shifted, my cheek against the wall instead of my forehead, and I tried to swallow down a lump that was lodged high in my throat and making it difficult to breathe. "Y-Ya," I managed to stutter, crying in hopeless defeat.

"Alright then," He agreed, slowly letting me go, catching me when I stumbled backwards into his arms. I was still crying, but quietly, weakly, and he smiled gently as he asked, "Are you ready to go to lunch now?" I paused, and he took the opportunity to add, "And, keep in mind, there is only one right answer."

"Fine," I agreed, my voice quiet, shaking as he set me down and steadied me on my feet, "I'll go."

"Good," The redhead chimed soothingly, gently guiding me to turn until I was standing face-to-face with him. "It really will be ok," He assured, reaching up to softly cradle my face in his palm for a few moments before letting his hand drift slowly down my arm, just barely brushing against the skin that was barred by the ratty old tank top I'd been wearing for over a month. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, knowing that I must look like a complete train wreck.

But Charlie slipped his large, rough hand into mine, and it didn't matter. I let him lead me out of his bedroom, down the long quiet hallway, and down the stairs.

xxXxx

Once we made it to the kitchen, I got freaking pounced on.

"Hey, babydoll!" A twin shouted just before grabbing me in a tight hug, picking me up off the ground and spinning me around in circles as he planted loud, wet kisses all over my face and neck. I was too concerned with kicking and squirming to be prepared when he suddenly tossed me to his brother, from whom I received the exact same treatment, along with a laugh of, "We were so worried about you, cupcake!"

"For the love of Merlin, put her down!" Remus swore, wrestling me away from whichever twin had me, gently setting me back on the floor. Once there, he stood in front of me, his long, pale face looking much older than I remembered as he delicately ran his thin hands through my hair, then down my arms, seeming to be checking for damage as he asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I mumbled, keeping my eyes down, really regretting having let myself get talked out of the room. My heart was still breaking, and it was taking every ounce of focus I had in me just to not start crying again.

"Food then!" A shrill, pushy voice shouted. I found myself being shoved repeatedly in the direction of the table by Mrs. Weasley, getting scolded along the way, "You are much too skinny to not be eating, dear. Now you sit down right this instant, and you are not getting up until your plate is spotless." Unwilling to think of anything else as I fell down into a chair between the twins, I mumbled a docile, "Yes, ma'am."

Ten minutes later, I was throwing up in the bathroom, the one piece of dry toast I'd managed to force myself to eat, along with all the built up acid in my stomach, making an unpleasant return. It was awful.

I didn't want to leave the bathroom after that. I wanted to sit on the floor beside the toilet, resting my burning skin against the cool, white porcelain of the tank, and I wanted to just let myself fade away.

Unfortunately, as soon as the others figured out that I seemed to have no intention of exiting, Charlie broke down the damn door.

"Come on, love," He chided, gently feeling my forehead before scooping me up off the ground, "I'm not letting you do this to yourself." Not even able to find the will to fight him, I just laid back in his arms, demanding softly, "Why do you even care? You barely know me."

He carried my body another few steps in silence, looking very speculative, I think turning just a little bit red up by his ears, though I could've been mistaken. I mean, come on, when those Weasley's blush it is pretty damn obvious.

"I don't have to have a reason," He finally grumbled under his breath, setting me down on a dingy gray, probably once black sofa. It seemed like a bit of a brush off, and any other day I probably would've seen fit to interrogate him further (and by 'interrogate' I mean 'sit on his head until he tells me'... wait, that doesn't sound right...).

Some of the other people had followed us into the room, and Charlie quickly turned to them, instructing, "Roo, stay. Everyone else, kitchen." I think they were going to have a discussion about me. I'm fairly sure. I'm a hundred-percent certain. Anyways, they all filed out, leaving me with my babysitter. If I had been more myself, I think I probably would've been rather insulted that a baby was given the job.

"Leila," The smiling little girl asked as she jumped onto the couch beside me, getting more dusty footprints on the once lush, and probably very expensive material, "Can I play with your hair?"

I turned my back on her, bringing my knees up to my chest as I muttered, "Go nuts, pint-size." She probably could've asked to paint me blue and I still would've said yes. That is the danger of complete and total apathy.

"Do you still miss your mummy?" She inquired bluntly, her talented fingers already working through the many tangles in my long hair. Feeling the tightness in my chest suddenly twinge sharply, and hot tears bubbling back up, I set my head down on my knees, and mumbled quietly, "Yes."

"Oh," Roo remarked, her chatter somehow soothing, as were her gentle actions on my hair and scalp, "Well, my mummy left me, too, only she left when I was just a little baby, and she went to France, so she doesn't come to see me. I don't remember her, but my daddy told me that she's real pretty... what was your mummy like?"

Fuck. "M-My mom?" I responded, my voice cracking horribly. How she didn't realize it was a bad conversation point, I'll never understand. I mean, she was a baby, not a moron, right?

Apparently, wrong. "Ya," She continued, obliviously smoothing and parting long strands of my hair she then proceeded to swiftly braid, "Was it nice having a mummy?"

"She... I... it was..." I faltered for a few minutes, trying not to lose it. Eventually though, after quite a few deep, steeling breaths, I finally managed to state flatly, "It was very nice."

Roo hummed in quiet speculation, and I could feel tears dripping down my face. I didn't want to cry, and was trying so hard not to, because I didn't want to let down my mom, or Charlie, strangely enough, but it was just impossible.

"What was she like?" The girl pressed once more, having finishing off the braid, taking a few moments to admire it, then beginning to undo her work. I started wondering whether or not the braid would be long enough for me to hang myself with.

"She was..." I began, barely able to speak as the lump in my throat moved higher, feeling like it was stuck in the back of my mouth and cutting me off from fresh oxygen. My head was spinning, and I don't know where I found the voice to keep talking, "She was wonderful, really smart, and funny, and so brave. She was the strongest woman I've ever known, a-and I love her so much... I miss her... I want her to come back and be with me... it's not fair..."

"Leila?" I was suddenly bawling again, my slumped shoulders racking with every sob I was desperately trying to hide behind my knees and folded arms. "Leila?" But Roo was jumping on the couch cushion behind me, sounding confused and worried, "Did I pull your hair too hard? I'm sorry! Please don't cry!" She clung to my back, trying to fit her spindly, freckly little arms around my body in a hug. I wished I could've stopped, but I felt too broken, like any minute I was going to collapse into myself because my insides were completely hollow, and definitely not strong enough for the grief weighing on my body.

A few minutes passed with me just crying hysterically, and Roo trying her very best to make me stop. The poor little thing thought that my pain was her fault in some way. I know I should've made some effort to tell her that it wasn't, but I just couldn't stop crying, not even when I hear Ron walk into the room and declare, "Leila, Mum wanted you to try and eat again, so I brought you a- oh, bollocks"

"Uncle Ron!" Roo screeched, her little arms squeezing me around the neck as she jumped up and down on the couch, "I made Leila sad! Fix her!" I have no idea why, but the comment just made me bawl three times harder. I was such a fucking wreck.

"Ya, ya," Ron soothed the little girl, crossing the room in a few long strides to pick her up off my back, "I'm sure Leila will be just fine, and you can help her by going and getting your daddy, and Uncle Charlie, and Mr. Lupin, ok?" I didn't see the look Roo gave him, but knew it was a short-tempered sort of pout from the tone in her voice as she declared, "Ok, but you have to promise to stay with Leila and try to make her not sad anymore!"

"I promise," Ron half-chuckled back, throwing an arm around me just to prove his point, "Now go on. Hurry up." A flurry of rapid footsteps signaled Roo's departure, and then I was left alone with Ron, sobbing hysterically and completely unable to force myself to stop.

"Hey, um," The teen offered lamely, hugging me against his side as he tucked my head onto his shoulder, "Don't cry. I... uh... I brought you a sandwich!"

For a moment, I was unsure of what I'd just heard. I was suddenly able to stifle my sobs into sniffles, and pick my head up off his shoulder in order to stare blankly at his big, dopey, freckly grin. He was holding out a sandwich, offering it to me like it was some miracle cure for all my complex emotional pain.

Briefly, I considered punching him in the throat for suggesting that a sandwich would make me better, but then, after I thought about it for another moment, I realized that I just couldn't. Ron didn't do what he did to be mean, or funny. The boy sincerely believed that a sandwich would help. Bless his simple little heart, it was an honest effort at providing comfort.

I laughed, a pitiful little wheeze as I told him quietly, "I'm really not hungry, but thank you."

"You sure?" He offered again, taking a bite himself before putting the square of stuffed bread back in front of my face, and adding with his mouth full, "I's ham'n cheese."

Choking on giggles once more, I relaxed onto that sweet boy, sniffling, "It's gonna make me sick again."

The arm he had around me tightened, and he pouted, his clear blue eyes going huge as he jutted out his bottom lip, and begged sweetly, "Please?"

I just wanted him to stop giving me that sickeningly cute baby seal face, so I grudgingly leaned forward and took a small bite of the sandwich he was holding out to me. The pleading face turned into a big freckly grin once more, and I returned a small smile, concentrating on chewing, and swallowing, and not throwing up. Surprisingly, I succeeded, forcing down the bite, feeling my stomach growl and demand more.

Ron looked ecstatic, waving the sandwich towards me again as he teased sweetly, "Open wide, here comes the dragon!"

"Cut it out, you goon!" I laughed, struggling weakly as he missed my mouth and poked me in the eye, "I'm not a baby!"

"Rowr!" He mocked, making the sandwich give off noises like a dragon as he continue trying to make me eat it. I was laughing so hard by that time that he easily stuffed another two bites into my mouth before I shoved him off, pinning him back down on the couch as I chewed the food.

"Big mistake, boy-o," I teased, putting on a mock evil face as I straddled him, then started tickling him like crazy. The big, gangly young man was completely at my mercy, a pile of giggling freckles, and shaggy tomato hair.

I don't know how he did it, but Ron Weasley managed to actually make me laugh, even at a point in my life when I was sure I never would again.

"GET OFF MY BOYFRIEND!" A grating, nails-on-chalkboard screech split through the air, making both Ron and I wince, then look over to the doorway to find its origin. Hermione's hair was just a bit more wild than usual that day, giving her sort of a mental patient vibe, especially with the way her face was turning deep purple, and her clenched fists were shaking at her sides.

"Hi, 'Mione," Ron greeted gently, looking horrified by her obvious anger. Not bothering to get off him, slightly amused that our position was making her such a jealous bitch, I grinned, asking innocently, "What's up?"

"Get. Off. Him," She repeated, her voice a low, crackling growl. I decided to play dumb, asking seriously, "Why?"

Her brown eyes narrowed dangerously, and she hissed a curt, slightly demonic, "Now."

I'm a strange person. I'm also mean at times. That time happened to be one of the times I felt like being mean, and I'm at a completely loss as to why. Grinning devilishly at Hermione, I wiggled my butt against Ron's lap, making him gasp, and lose all rational thought, which was, I imagine, the reason he did nothing about my next move.

"What's the matter, 'Mione?" I called sweetly over to the girl, petting her boyfriend's hair, then running both my hands down his chest, slipping them up his shirt, "Can't handle a little competition?"

I'm a bitch and I know it, so you can stop mentally cursing me.

Hermione took a more vocal approach, her cheeks flushing dark pink as she screamed, "GET OFF HIM RIGHT NOW, YOU TRAMP!"

"Tramp?" I answered, arching an eyebrow at the girl as I very slowly un-straddled Ron, "Them's fightin' words, beaver-face." And then she shrieked, and launched herself at me with a hilarious flurry of teeny, tiny fists.

I easily held her back by a hand to the forehead, keeping her at arms length while she just swung blindly at me over, and over, and over. It might've gotten boring if it wasn't so funny. I was cracking up the entire time.

But then Remus, Bill, and Charlie came in, and ruined my fun. Bill pulled Hermione away, and took her and Ron out of the room. I fell back onto the couch, enjoying the fleeting ray of happiness before I remembered how depressed I was and it left me once again on the brink of self-destruction.

"That was mean," Charlie commented as he finally fell down into the seat beside me. His voice was stern, but he looked amused, causing me to return a weak smile, and respond, "I know."

The burly redhead chuckled, throwing a thick, still mysteriously bandaged arm around my shoulders and pulling me tight against his side as he sighed deeply. "I knew you'd be alright," He declared, mouthing the words against my temple, "Just give it time, love. Don't ever give up."