I've returned!

after 2 years.

I'm sorry to all the readers, but I jut got caught up in so many other things that I forgot about this story. I've been on a Harry Potter kick lately, though, and remembered that I practically abandoned this thing, which is not going to happen again, I promise. The updates just won't be frequent until after winter is over, because I'm a senior now, and I'm waiting to hear back from colleges.

ANYWAY, if you don't remember where this story left off, just refresh yourself with the last two chapters, I suppose. I know this one's a bit short, but I just wanted to give you all something to let you know that I'm alive. Enjoy!

Chapter 9

It was an hour later. Everyone back at the burrow was probably in the middle of dinner right about now, but there'd be no need for them to rush to St. Mungo's. Fred, George, and I were still seated in the waiting area of the emergency room. Apparently, a minor league quidditch team had had a bit on an accident in the stands: some bloke who's had a bit too much butterbeer had accidently lit himself on fire. The stampede that ensued attempting to get away from him had the entire ER of the hospital backed up. Fred and George each sat in a chair, hands folded, looking bored out of their minds. I wasn't exactly a different picture, the only difference being that the hospital had provided me with a wheelchair so that I could at least prop my leg up on something.

We all had the fifty-yard stare, eyes glazed over. My body may have been in the hospital, but my mind was elsewhere. I worried for Stefan, wondering what we were going to do if and when we found him. I also had to get a hold of the Damon situation in regards to George.

My thought was broken by Fred, who released a deep huff that then turned into a melodic whistle. Before I knew it, I could hear myself humming along to a popular muggle song, Uptown Funk. George tapped his foot to the tune, smiling. When it ended, I turned to Fred quizzically.

"Heard that on Dad's muggle radio, I did. Don't know who that 'Michelle Pfeiffer' bird is, but the tune was wicked," he said.

I laughed and leaned back. Then George spoke up. "Alright, this is disastrously boring. Time for 20 questions. What's the hot American vampire world gossip, Brooke? Tell us something cool that's happened."

I had to think. I had a bunch of stories I knew they would enjoy the gore of, but maybe not so much the parts in which Damon and I got things on. Finally, I decided to detail Rose's kidnapping of me, and the rescue mission from Elijah, minus the lovey-dovey reunion afterwards with Damon.

As I was finishing up, a healer finally called my name. The twins stood, George pushing my chair to follow the woman, and Fred walking in front of us.

The encounter started with a few magical scans of my body, looking for the exact location of the break, and hen checks for any other wounds. After all else was clear, she reset the bone, and then tried to get me to take a potion that would speed the healing process. After getting a whiff of the smell alone, I wasn't exactly compliant. Fred tried convincing me that it probably wasn't that by trying a sip himself, but his plan didn't work out well considering his face puckered up and he immediately spit it out at the side of George's head. Some of it must have landed in the hole where his ear was two years ago, because George cringed and leaned to the side, smacking the side of his head that did, in fact, have an ear, looking like a child who'd gone swimming and was trying to get water out of his ear.

The affair didn't convince me that she potion tasted decent at all, but it did make me laugh, which then made them smile, so I decided to cooperate and chug the potion as the healer instructed me to do.

It was while the healer was putting charms on the broken part of my leg (to keep it from shifting while the potion did its work) that I had George leaning over me to that I could help him empty the remaining potion into a cup that was on the side table of the hospital bed. I had to keep shaking his head to get the last few drops out, and I kept giggling because I could see Fred out of George's line of sight tying his shoelaces together. George however, looked at me confused, wondering what could be THAT funny. The healer left the room just as I finished emptying George's ear-hole.

It was when he stood and attempted to take a step forward that he lost his balance (due to Fred's prank, of course), and fell backwards onto the hospital bed with me. His butt landed on an empty part of the bed, and his head fell onto my stomach. The three of us broke out laughing hysterically, and, in a moment of sweet nostalgia, I gently moved a piece of his hair off of his forehead, smiling slightly at him. His eyes were on mine, and I could see his grin grow into a knowing and small smirk.

And, as fate would have it, the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione, my brother, and Damon shuffled into the room loudly at that moment, slight concern in their eyes. Damon's, however, quickly evaporated into cold jealousy. Considering the sight he was looking at, I couldn't really blame him. George must have taken a look at him, too, because he quickly sat up, untied and retied the shoelaces, and then stood next to his twin.

"What's the verdict, then? Will they have to chop it?," asked Ron, jokingly.

"Yeah," added Jeremy. "Can I start calling you gimpy?"

"No, you jerks," I replied with a smile. "I'll be good as new in the morning. I just have to stay overnight so that they an make sure nothing happens to the charm they placed to keep the leg still."

"Lovely news!," shouted Mr. Weasley. "Now, visitors will be asked to leave in about an hour, but we'll happily spend that time here with you!"

"Yes," added Mrs. Weasley, "And we brought you three care packages from dinner!" She handed a brown paper bag to Fred, whose eyes lit up along with George's, upon seeing their mother's cooking.

The healer had told me not to eat anything until I left the hospital, so everyone sat around, laughing and talking while the twins had dinner. Damon sat next to me on the hospital bed, my head nestles snuggly between his shoulder and head. The good news was that George was so focused on his mother's cooking that he never even glanced at me and Damon. I was grateful for this.