"Audrey, you haven't touched your ham."
"I'm sorry, Marion. I'm just not that hungry today."
"Not hungry today? It's Christmas!" Audrey's step-mother stared at her disbelievingly, and then, looking around the table, repeated, "Christmas," in case the others hadn't gotten the message via the fake holly berries, the tree in the living room, or the carols playing on the radio.
"I hear being single at the holidays can really take it out of you," said Fordham, and he grinned at Audrey. "I should know!" Fordham was Audrey's father's best mate – a lifelong bachelor.
"I just think it's, well, it's a shame," Marion went on, stabbing her ham with her fork. "I slave over this meal all day, and today, of all days, Audrey's appetite is somewhere else. Can't even summon up a will for Christmas? Or," Marion gave a little gasp, and turned theatrically to her stepdaughter. She said, in a stage whisper, "Audrey, this isn't your disease coming back, is it?"
"For heaven's sake, Mum, leave her alone." That was Elena, Audrey's step-sister (older by four years), glaring at her mother from down the table. Audrey mouthed a thank you to her.
Olivia, Audrey's other step-sister (older by seven years) tossed back her blonde hair and took her mother's part. "But Audrey really is not acting like herself. Quiet as a nun, or am I the only one that's noticed?"
"Well, things were different last Christmas," Audrey said, trying to keep her voice even so that her father wouldn't be distracted from his intent discussion of stocks with Olivia's husband. "Or haven't you noticed all of the – the stuff that's been going on? Disappearances, deaths, grisly and unsolved murders…"
"Well, you're a real cheery bird, aren't you?" Olivia said. "What happened to Christmas spirit?"
"Have you noticed at all? Have any of you noticed?" Audrey demanded.
"Yes, I've read a few articles," Elena said, her voice very calm and even. "They say it's a crime wave, with some lingering effects of the government cutbacks… Audrey, you don't have to worry about it, not right now. It's the holidays – be merry."
"I worry about it all the time."
"All of the time?" Olivia shook her head. "That can't be. What else do you think about?"
"I'm reading the works of Edgar Allan Poe," Audrey said. "Working through them. And I'm brushing up on my Greek myth, you know, the old gods. Like Pallas Athena," she added. No one's eyes lit up with recognition.
"Sounds like a laugh riot," Olivia said.
"This coming from a lady who cleans up a diaper all day and thinks it's her vocation," Audrey said, cutting into her ham at last.
"Audrey, how rude," Marion said.
Audrey fell silent, and stayed silent for the rest of the dinner. When the dinner guests dispersed, she offered to stay behind and clear the dishes with Elena. As Audrey laid the plates into the kitchen sink, she jumped when Elena spoke to her. "Hey. Are you all right?"
"Not particularly," Audrey said, picking at her green velvet dress.
"Anything I can do?" Elena asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you eating all right?"
"I'm eating fine. I'm – sure, I miss days here and there, but I'm fine. Really."
"I hope you know, if you need to talk, I'm here. Even after the holiday."
Audrey nodded, without conviction. Elena lived way to the north, near Liverpool, and what Audrey most wanted was a fellow warm body to sit near, watch telly, and laugh with on the weekends. Nothing fancier than that, really. And Elena couldn't realistically be that. But… "Thanks," she said. "Y'know, Elle—" she wiped her hands on the hand towel and handed it over, "I think I'm going to just go outside for a bit, take a walk. All right? You mind telling the others?"
"But Olivia's going to bring Ben out in a minute," Elena said. Benjamin Wallis was the Baby, and he was the prince and celebrity of the extended family.
Audrey shook her head. "Sorry, Benjy's going to have to wait," she said. "I need a minute to myself. Just…" she gestured to the window. "Some air."
"Ah. Well, by all means. We'll have tea all ready when you get back."
"Thanks, El." Audrey was already hurrying to the service porch as quick as was decent, pulling on her boots and her jacket.
In a minute she was outside, stalking down the walk, wriggling her gloves to fit her hands, and cursing the cute, but pitifully short cut of her velvet dress, and the accompanying inadequacy of her overcoat.
She would just do a turn or two around the block. Nothing unusual, nothing extremely anti-social. She buried her hands in her pockets.
There was only a little bit of snow on the ground – most of what had fallen in the last month was transient stuff, that fell by night and looked pretty for a few hours before melting in the daylight. The clouds lay heavy in the sky, but Audrey at least tried to tell herself that she was outside, she was in the country, getting some fresh air, peace, quiet—
Quiet that was routinely broken by the noise of carolers. They sounded drunk – worse, they sounded American.
Audrey turned around when she realized the noise was getting nearer. She headed back to her dad's house, angry at the rowdy carolers for ruining her solitude.
But then, the sound carried over the cold air very crisply, and she heard an aberration –
"Love and joy come to you – and to you Protego too –"
That word – it was a word Percy had used, that last day. She was sure of it.
She stopped, and turned around.
There were three carolers, two young men with woolen caps pulled low over their ears, and a tall black woman with a large scarf, that covered half of her face. As they sang, they waved around what looked like synthetic Christmas wreathes.
Audrey didn't have her purse or her sunglasses with her, but she didn't need to, to recognize them. To recognize what they were doing.
One of the young men – his freckles clear even in the winter light – turned and spotted her, and stopped dead in his tracks.
Audrey had a split second to wonder if he was going to put a spell on her; then she realized, she didn't want to wait for him. So she stepped towards them, not saying anything, not calling out, just looking straight at them as they all turned and saw her, that was Fred Weasley, and that was George, and the girl – Angelina Johnson. Something tugged at Audrey's memory – a warning bell to do with Angelina – but –
Before she could process what the warning was, one of the young men – it was Fred – strode up to her and clapped his hands on her shoulders. "Audrey Trotwood, as I live and breathe! Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas," Audrey repeated vaguely, smiling at George, and meeting Angelina's eyes, with a kind of apprehensive smile – alarm bells – but wasn't this nice, it was Christmas, so Audrey began,
"This is such a lovely surprise, how would you like to take tea with my family? We're just around the corner, if you'd like –"
"That'd be grand, Audrey, and thanks," Angelina said, "But we've got a schedule to keep to, haven't we, boys?"
"What are you doing?" Audrey asked. "Caroling? Looking for wassail? Those are wands—" she pointed to the wreaths in George's hand – "aren't they? Disguised?"
George looked at her with an appraising and surprised glance. "Awful sharp of you, Audrey."
"We're spreading a little Christmas cheer," Fred answered.
"How do you know about wands?" Angelina repeated. "Audrey, do you know—"
"Of course she knows," Fred said to Angelina. "Didn't you tell her?"
Silence descended, except for the alarm bells ringing fit to break in Audrey's head. She swiftly cursed several things, including herself and her own stupidity, and Fred, for having a memory sharp as a razor.
Desperation took over: maybe she could still salvage this. "Yeah, Angelina, don't you remember? After the day that – um – Those-That-Are-In-Charge, after they got… in charge… you came to see me, and you, just, you just let it spill out – magic, and, and, pure-blood stuff, and, don't you remember?"
Angelina's confused look gave way to a pained smile. She shook her head. "I'm real sorry, Audrey, but I'm not going to cover for you. I never told her about our world," She said to George and Fred. "So how do you know?" She asked, turning to Audrey.
"Uh. I. Er."
"Audrey, you need to tell us in five minutes or less, because we really have got a schedule to keep—"
"I know! I heard you! Jesus Christ, I'm a Muggle, not an idiot!"
"Keep your voice down," George admonished her.
"You're one to talk! What are you even doing here?"
"What are you even doing here?" Fred asked.
"My dad's house is right around the corner. I needed a break, I took a walk. Now, your turn." No one answered. "Those," Audrey pointed, "are wands. What are you using them for? Or… are you really drunk?"
"We're not drunk," Fred and George said in unison.
"One question at a time, and we're on a schedule," Angelina Johnson said, pulling her scarf down from her face. Audrey understood in a minute that she was the leader of the expedition. "How do you know about magic?"
Audrey cleared her throat. "Ahem, I'll tell you, but… you've got to promise you won't get mad."
"Why would we get mad?" George asked.
"Promise."
"Alright, alright, I promise," Fred held up his hands. George did the same.
"I'm sorry I lied to you," Audrey said to him.
"I forgive you, now get on with it."
"I'm sorry about using your name, Angelina."
"It's all right," she said, but her voice was tense.
Audrey took a deep breath, a quick prayer to Pallas Athena, and said in a rush, "It was Percy. Your brother. He told me."
There was a breath of silence, then –
"Percy?" Fred repeated, taking a step back.
"He came to see you?" George asked.
"How do you know him?" Angelina asked.
"I thought we told you, you shouldn't have anything to do with him!" Fred reproached her. "Weren't you listening?"
"Well, I have something to do with him!" Audrey yelled, throwing her arms wide. "What are you going to do about it?"
Fred and George began to talk at once, and Audrey caught some words that distinctly lacked goodwill and peace, before Angelina put one hand on each of their shoulders, silencing them, and then gave Audrey a look. It was not accusatory, but exasperated, sort of 'You could have named literally anyone else. But it had to be Percy, didn't it?'
Before anyone else could speak, Audrey said, very fast, "Okay-now-I-told-my-bit, you-promised-not-to-get-mad, now why are you here?"
"Slow down," Angelina said, "say that again?"
"Why are you here? In this neighborhood?"
"We've got like seven more neighborhoods to cover before dark," Angelina said, looking at her wristwatch. "We're casting protective spells. Aren't we, boys?"
"Yes," George said, sullenly. Fred was still staring at Audrey.
"Protection spells? From… from the ones in charge?" Audrey swallowed. "That's what Percy called them…"
"I'm surprised he didn't call them Supreme Mugwumps, that disgusting –"
"Do I have the right idea?" Audrey almost yelled, cutting George off in the middle of a rant.
"Yes," Angelina said. "Now, do we even want a proper conversation," she said to George, "or do we just want to yell at each other?"
"This isn't your call, Angelina –"
"Am I the leader here, or aren't I?"
"Look, if you want to come by later, and, I don't know, talk," Audrey said, "my dad's house is Number 56, Eyamshire Road. I'll be there until tomorrow, and then, I'll be at my old flat. London. Same place. I haven't left it. Nothing's changed at all, with me." She held out her arms, then dropped them to her side. "Happy Christmas."
Then, with her heart sinking and her eyes stinging her, she turned and walked away. She didn't look back, not even when she heard someone respond, "Happy Christmas."
When she returned home – no, not really home, to her father's place – the whole family was taking tea, and Olivia gladly handed Ben off to Audrey, so that she could have a cuppa. Ben was already fidgety and fussy, and he hadn't been in Audrey's arms for a moment before he started bawling at the top of his lungs.
"Oh, sure, take the part against me, why don't you?" She asked, before handing him off to his hovering, anxious father.
Later that night, in the silence and pitch-blackness of the house, there was a small light and tinkling noise in the living room. It was "The Ballad of the Wind Fish," and Audrey squinted at the glowing screen as she played 'The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening.'
With her tip of her tongue at her teeth, she joined in on the Ballad, humming and hissing and trying to keep it down. It was better than trying to sleep. Maybe later she'd sneak into the kitchen and eat some of that leftover ham.
A movement in the window caught her eye. She looked up, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness, and realized there was something in the window, one of the neighbor's garden gnomes. It was bobbing up and down in the air before the window, apparently of its own volition, framed by the streetlight.
Audrey got up and stepped for a closer look, the blanket tight around her shoulders. The gnome's bobbing was frankly a bit creepy.
On the sidewalk, a ways beyond, stood Angelina Johnson, holding out her "wreath" and looking at Audrey's window. Fred and George were flanking her, each watching another part of the street.
In under a minute Audrey had her boots on over her socks, and her father's overcoat – it was big and warm, and he didn't need it right now – over her pyjama's. Door was locked, she had keys in her pocket. Ready. But despite this, she shivered when the cold bit into her. It had started snowing again. She reached Angelina just as the taller woman returned the gnome to the empty circle of snow that was his home.
"So what's happening now?" Audrey asked, too cold and too wary for small talk.
"We've just been eaten up with curiosity," Fred began, turning from Angelina's right hand…
"Ever since your little confession earlier, we've been bamboozled—" George began. Angelina rolled her eyes.
"Boys. No time. How're you doing, Audrey?"
"Freezing like a witch's teat in an iron –" Audrey stopped short, and then colored crimson. "Oh. My. God. You're, you're a witch, I'm – I knew that, I'm so sorry—"
"Audrey, I could do with a really hot drink right about now. We want you to come with us to – to our place. It's secret."
Audrey nodded. "I won't tell a soul, I promise."
"We know you won't," Fred replied. He smiled at her, a bit warily.
"Are you game to come with?" Angelina asked.
A fervent nod. "Yes! Absolutely!"
"Okay… Boys, into position."
"What are you doing?" Audrey asked. George took her right arm and Fred took her left, and they locked arms with Angelina at the same time.
"We're going to teleport," Angelina explained. "You're going to come with us. Audrey – this is going to be really uncomfortable."
"I can handle it." Audrey braced herself, and tried to look fierce.
"Wait," George interrupted. "Anyone going to miss you at home?"
"No," Audrey replied. "Not for another few hours. The door's locked, I have a key, let's go let's go let's g—"
000
"—ohmygodwhy?"
Fred and George let go of her arms and Audrey fell to the floor, a great deal paler and shaking herself all over, anything to relieve that terrible pressed-in feeling she'd had.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Teleportation," Angelina answered, squatting down to look Audrey in the eye. "Or Apparition. You alright?"
"That wasn't teleporting, that was a brief sojourn on a two-dimensional planet." Audrey struggled to sit up. Angelina helped her.
They were in a basement. A hearty fireplace was set in one wall, and George was moving with alarming speed, clearing papers, gloves, hats, and other debris off of what showed itself – after much excavation – to be a couch. Fred was opening up shelves and pulling out bottles.
"Let me guess," Fred said to her, "You could use a drink."
"Could I ever!" Audrey answered. Without Angelina's help – without too much of Angelina's help, anyway – she made it to the couch and sank down, already feeling a bit over-starched and over-heated in her father's coat, but also certain that she was not going to take it off.
Angelina had no such compunctions. She drew off the scarf and pulled off her gloves, shaking out her long braids and letting out a relieved sigh. "I'll have whatever she's having," she said.
"Liquor before beer," Fred recounted, as he poured out a measure of some golden liquid into two tumblers and then presented them, with dancing-class manners, to the two women.
George had moved on from clearing out the couch to removing debris from two – no, three armchairs, which had seen better days, and slouched backwards as if they were dreaming of said better days at this very moment. "What was that oh so charming phrase you were using, earlier, Audrey?"
"That I do have something to do with Percy?" Audrey asked just before drinking. The phrase had been echoing in her cranium all day.
"No, no, no, that thing about teats? Cold teats?"
A sputtering, and a faint shower of whiskey, erupted from Angelina, who had just taken a drink. She pressed her sleeve to her mouth, her eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. Everyone in the room looked at her worriedly until she swallowed and uncovered her mouth, laughing so hard that Audrey took her glass away.
"A witch's teat in an iron bra! I haven't heard that in years!"
"Are you mad? I'm, it just slipped out, I'm so sorry to demean you like that—"
"Demean me? Woman, I have heard insults that made my skin crawl; but coldness measured in the—the frostbite of magical nipples—" another snort and burst of laughter –"I couldn't care less. Honestly – witch's teat."
Audrey, wondering at the transformation, tried to meet Fred and George's eyes. The efficient squadron leader had vanished, and Audrey wasn't sure to make of who she left behind.
But Fred and George were not going to help. "What's that about bras? Your bra?" Fred asked, leaning forward in the armchair and grinning.
"An iron bra. Sounds positively medieval." George added.
Angelina drew herself up proudly once again. "The contents of my bra, or the temperature therein, is none of your blessed business, Frederico Giovanni Wesliatti."
Audrey gaped. "That's never your real name – is it?"
"Bless you, no," Angelina said, as the twins burst out laughing again. "It's a joke we have – but of course you don't know. No, the boys aren't laughing at you – just, god, Audrey, we haven't had a newcomer in our ranks for such a long time, all of our little jokes have grown old and ossified."
"A newcomer?" Audrey asked, excited. "Does that mean you're going to let me stay and – and contribute to the cause?"
"Not in that sense… not yet. But we're getting ahead of ourselves." Angelina took her glass back and lifted it. "Cheers, cheers."
"Cheers," Audrey clinked hers against it, and then George's, and a last craning stretch to clink Fred's.
She took a drink, and sputtered and coughed. "What is this?" she demanded.
"Ogden's Old Firewhiskey," George and Fred said in unison.
"A classic of our schooldays."
"All kinds of fond memories."
"Tastes awful," Angelina said, contemplating the bottom of her glass, "but when you're a student, it's cheap and you don't know any better."
Audrey frowned at the liquor. Then she closed her eyes and tossed it back, wincing terribly. "Alright. Let me tell you about Percy," she said, opening her eyes, to find she had the complete attention of everyone else in the room. She took a deep breath, and began.
She had been thinking over what she might say for the better part of the afternoon and evening, so it was, in her mind, well-organized, from the first meeting, where he had been trying to reach out to Fred and George, to the last encounter on the Day that Shit Got Real, as George helpfully called it. She tastefully excised any romance between them, partly, to be honest, because she thought the twins might just hit the ceiling. When done, she took another long drink, finishing off her second glass of Firewhiskey. Stuff wasn't so bad, once you got used to it.
She almost spat out her drink, when Fred said, "I don't believe it."
"Don't believe what?" she demanded.
"I don't believe that Percy opened up to you – like that – you admit you barely knew him. And, Audrey, you're a Muggle! Percy would hand you over to Runcorn himself, if it meant a promotion."
"Well, you're wrong. You're wrong about your brother, sorry to say."
"Oh, you have a few dozen cups of tea with him and you're his confessor, but I lived with the git for almost twenty years, and I'm wrong about him?" Fred reached out and poured himself another glass of whiskey.
"Yes!" Audrey said. "What was even the rift between you? He never said. He just, it sounded like he never fit in with you. And there's something political, isn't there?"
"That's the understatement of the century," George said. "I'll handle this one, Freddie. Audrey, what's your grasp on the political situation?"
"There are people who want to kill me, and other Muggles, just because we're Muggles. And they're the main power in the wizarding world now."
"Correct."
"They have a big surveillance system, control of the bureaucracy, and they have this idea that Muggles can steal magic and become wizards. They think it's a bad idea."
"Correct."
"But that's impossible."
"Yes… Percy told you about all of this?"
"And that there's a kind of resistance going, that Percy wants to be a member of the resistance, but that he's in such a high place in the bureaucracy it'll be too hard for him to wriggle out easily. He's watched all of the time."
"Now how do you know about that?"
"Reading between the lines, you should give it a try."
"I find that very hard to believe, alright, Audrey? Very. Hard. To Believe."
"Do tell, George."
"Pardon me," Angelina said, getting up. To Audrey she said, "Nothing against you, or you," this to the twins, "but I lived this saga, as a spectator. I've heard this story so often I'm—I'm going to go upstairs and check on things."
She disappeared out a door, and there was a sound like she was ascending a staircase. "What is this place?" Audrey asked.
"It's better that you don't know," Fred replied.
"Back to our brother," George said, "Ever since his first day at Hogwarts, he's had it on his mind to clamber to the top of the social hierarchy."
"Thank your lucky stars you weren't around the day he got the letter naming him a Prefect," Fred said. "Merlin's rheumy eyeballs, you'd think he'd been named King. Prancing and preening, lording it over Ginny, who was all of nine, until even Mum got sick of it—"
"Mum encouraged him, you know," George added. "Told him to shoot for the stars, reach as high as he could go—"
"I was under the impression that's what mothers were for," Audrey said.
"Is that so, Audrey? Well, how about this, how about Percy took Mum's advice to heart, and then cut her off like so much baggage when it was bad for his career? Hm? He didn't mention that, did he?"
Audrey swore loudly, spilling what little whiskey was in her glass with a forceful gesture that took the twins by surprise. "Enough of the hints! You had—" more swearing –"ages to live with him, just talk to me like I'm an adult and not some kind of audience, alright?"
She relished the stunned looks on their faces. "And," she added, "I don't want the David Copperfield nonsense, the entire rivalry from the day you were born. I get it, brothers don't get along, I get it, now tell me what the rift was!"
"Who's David Copperfield?" Fred asked.
"He's one of those Muggle 'magicians,'" George answered at once. "He's always levitating, walking on water, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed."
"No, not that David Copperfield! That's a book! God, just – just what was the rift?"
"Percy got a promotion at the Ministry. This, after the Ministry has taken the party line that, oh, You-Know-Who isn't back, everything's fine, never mind the corpses piling up or the countrysides being ripped to shreds – Percy is still licking their boots, and when they promote him, he comes home to give us the news, and Dad points out to him that Fudge only moved Percy up to his right hand in order to get a spy in on us."
"On you?" Audrey asked. "Why are you so important?"
"Mum and Dad are very close with Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore? You mean… the school Headmaster?"
"Dumbledore, only the most powerful, wisest, and most gobsmackingly good man the world ever knew, that Dumbledore."
"And… you thought that in order to spy on Dumbledore, that's the only reason Percy was promoted?"
"Yes."
"Your dad said that?"
"Yes, Audrey, and frankly we all agree with him, except Mum, because—"
"Well, you're all lunatics. D'ye have any idea how hard Percy works? How absolutely driven and dedicated he is? What's wrong with your dad, that he doesn't realize that's a damned slap in the face to his son? His own son? Is he some kind of psychopath? What's wrong with you?"
"Don't talk about Dad like that!" Fred got to his feet.
"Talk about psychopaths?" George asked. "You can try living for a year under the command of a woman so foul, so sadistic, so evil that she forces children to write lines in their own blood – I am not kidding, Audrey, their own blood – a tyrant who took over our school and turned it into a hellhole, gave more than one Gryffindor kid nightmares, and did everything in her power to make us powerless, weak, helpless little insects." George remained seated, but his voice grew steadily louder and colder, with a look on his face that Audrey had never seen before, nor did she care to ever see it again.
Audrey, however, wasn't on the same page. "That – that's awful, but who is that? What does she have to do with any of this?"
"Dolores Umbridge," Fred crossed his arms, looking into the fire.
"Pray you never meet her." George added.
"You'll spot her a mile away, pink and frilly and little kitten scarves, rings on her fingers, bells on her toes –"
"And she will sic a Dementor on you with a smile," George finished. "Do you know what a Dem—"
"Yes," Audrey interrupted. "I know what a Dementor is. I still don't know what Dolores Humbert-"
"Umbridge," the twins said in unison.
"Umbridge has to do with Percy!"
"Percy works for her," George said, leaning back in his armchair. "He works willingly for that monster, and has defended her in writing as 'actually very sweet, when you get to know her.'"
"That is a level of delusion commonly associated with the more powerful love potions," Fred observed. He grinned to see Audrey shudder.
George went on, "He threw his lot in with people who were trying to keep wizards and witches in the dark, uninformed and open to every kind of attack. This, at a time when Mum and Dad were – and still are—putting their lives on the line, for no thanks and no glory, all to keep innocent people safe."
"Maybe you should have explained that to him," Audrey gripped her fists in her lap. "Maybe you should have respected his hard work, and his vision—"
"Percy worked hard—"
"For the most corrupt organization you can imagine."
"And his passion—"
"Passion? You don't really think they promoted him for his astounding reports on the thickness of cauldron bottoms?"
"Maybe you should have seen him as a person!" Audrey screamed. "You're so wrong, both of you, you never even bothered to think, think about how he felt, relate to him as your brother, you just saw him as a joke, you disgust me!"
Before the twins could say another word, Audrey turned on her heel and ran. She dashed up the staircase, and flung open the door, only to collide into Angelina.
"Where you listening at the door?" Audrey demanded, when she got herself to her feet. She was still wearing the overcoat, and by now was sweaty and overheated and miserable.
"Yes, I wanted to know when it would be safe to come back in. I'm sorry, I shouldn't've." Angelina closed the door to the basement quite firmly. They were standing in a dim corridor, with umbrella stand and a door to the outside.
"No, you shouldn't've. I'm done with you. I want to go home."
"Audrey," Angelina put her hands on Audrey's shoulders, and the shorter woman convulsed, trying to jerk away, "Audrey, I've heard that story about a million times, and no one has ever, ever contradicted them on it - let alone yell at them for it."
"They need a good yelling at," Audrey said, looking at her feet.
"I agree completely." Surprised, Audrey looked up at her. Angelina's dark eyes were completely serious and level. "I—I can't talk to them about that, not if I want to stay their friend – and I do – and most people that we know, they agree wholeheartedly. Of course, we're all on the same side…"
"I'm on your side, I am," Audrey defended, "but to hear them talk about Percy like that, you'd think he wasn't even their brother—" A sob cut her off. She curled up her shoulders, burying her face behind one hand.
"Audrey?"
She couldn't answer.
"Are you—in love with Percy?"
Audrey shook her head.
"No?"
"I can't be," she replied. "I, I, I don't even know him. Sure, I—I kissed him once or twice, and, sure, he thinks I'm safe and I, I miss him all of the time – but how can I miss him? I did all of the talking. I only found out about the magic – the last day I saw him. That was months ago. How can I love someone – who's just – lied to me?" Audrey barely managed to choke out the last phrase before her voice failed her and broke into pieces, with her breath and her vision. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Angelina gently led her out from before the basement doorway, and then hugged Audrey tight. "Go on, let it out. I don't blame you."
"I'm crazy, all I do is cry, and I'm useless to everyone—"
"Don't talk like that, Audrey. It's Christmas." Angelina rubbed her back. "It'll make anyone feel like they're going crazy," she added.
"What will?"
"Being in love with a Weasley."
Audrey pulled back. Angelina wore a half-sheepish, half-resigned smile. "I should know."