Author's notes: Hey everyone. I want to say an especially big thank you for all of the reviews on the last chapter. I think that was the most reviews I've ever gotten for a single update, and that was really awesome to see. I appreciate every single one of you.
Do you all like the new cover? It's definitely my final edition, and I think it's the best yet. Thoughts?
Finally, I want to take a moment to do a bit of a plug here: when you're finished reading this update, you should totally go check out a story called Blue Men by TheJesusFreak777. It's favorited in my profile. It's a four part short story, covering four years of what could have happened after Fred's canon death to the Weasley family, particularly George and Ron. It is seriously the most POWERFUL thing I have ever read on this site, and so beautifully written. Do her a favor and give it a read and review, it really deserves so much more than it has.
I present Chapter 21! Please leave a review, they're so awesome!
Chapter 21—Rogue
At the sound of the voice, Ava could swear that fear itself began coursing through her veins.
It was directly beneath her skin, pumping into her muscles and twisting around her lymph nodes, infecting her blood and growing like a cancer.
But even through the terrifying panic, and through the cloudy aftermath of the explosion, she could make something out for certain: the trapdoor leading to the storage cellar, fitted between the planks of the floor behind the check-out desk, was flung open with a slam. Figures began erupting out of it, appearing as though they were rising out of the floor itself—two, three, four people, all brandishing wands and crying out spells before they'd even finished climbing out of the square hole.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Stupefy!"
"Stupefy!"
The dusty air was suddenly filled with voices, loudly casting spells and crying out in pain and surprise, and different colored sparks and balls of light began flying every which way. From beside her, Fred's hand came down on her shoulder and applied pressure, forcing her knees to buckle.
"Stop it, what are you—"
But he ignored her and pushed harder, roughly forcing her to the floor into a kneeling position. She flinched and cried out in surprise as something directly above her shattered and pieces of the broken thing came raining down upon her head.
"Fred!" she choked out, her throat constricting into a coughing fit as more dusty debris floated towards her.
Fred said nothing; he only kept his one hand firmly on her shoulder as the other held his wand out. He stepped in front of her, his calves bumping into her head as he rocked back and forth and shifted around a bit as he dueled the intruders.
"Fred, please! It's him!"
She finally recovered from her coughing fit, gasping for breath and opening her eyes just as Fred crouched down to meet her at eye level, Charlie sliding in front of him for cover.
"What?" he panted. He was out of breath and his eyes were squinted, rapidly studying her face with panic.
"It's him," Ava replied, nodding frantically. "It's Gridgeon, he's here."
"Are you sure—argh!" A couple of steps on the staircase rising behind them exploded, showering them with sharp bits of wood.
"I would know that voice anywhere, Fred. I'm sure."
They remained staring at one another for just a moment, suddenly realizing what they were doing—while crouching across from one another they had both reached out, their arms extended and hands gripping the other's shoulders desperately.
Fred's hands squeezed her upper arms even harder for a second before releasing them. He reached down at their feet and brought up with him a thick splinter of wood, tapping it with his wand and muttering something. Before Ava's eyes, it transfigured itself, shaking briefly before turning into a wand with a popping sound.
"I want you to take this," he said gruffly, pulling her arm down and pressing the wand into her hand.
Ava shook her head back and forth rapidly, looking down at the wand, her eyes wide. "Fred, I can't-"
"It's just for show," he interrupted in a hurried voice. "Stand with me and brandish it a bit, copy what I'm saying. You'll stand out if you're the only one without a wand."
She nodded once and forced herself to look up at him, feeling her eyelids pulling open widely in panic, her eyes appearing as round as coins. Over his shoulder, Charlie's back faced them, shielding them. He was holding his wand high and stirring it in the air, creating ribbons of fire that he was sending out periodically.
"It's going to be okay," Fred panted, closing her fingers over the false wand. "Just stay with me and keep this on." He reached out and touched the pink amulet dangling from the chain around her neck.
"I'm scared," she whispered. She yelped as a jet of blue light passed over Fred's head, closely enough to ruffle his red hair as though a breeze had passed through.
He hunched his neck down further. "I know," he whispered back. He suddenly leaned forward, forcefully pressing his lips to hers in a hard kiss. It only lasted a second before he broke away, grabbed her arm again and rose to his feet, pulling her up along with him. She raised her trembling arm in the air, grasping the false wand as she surveyed the scene before her.
The store was a raging war zone. The entire front wall had been blown away from the initial intrusion, and small piles of debris mingled with ruined shop products across the floor. Merryweather's minions clearly stood out from the rest, clothed in stiff, all white uniforms. One of them stood close to where the door had been, a long white cloak billowing out behind him and wielding a wand, which he was pointing up at Charlie, who still stood on the ruined staircase landing as they dueled furiously. Neville was rolling around with one on the ground near the display table he'd been leaning on, their wands forgotten only a few feet away, grunting and wrestling one another, their mouths curled into snarls. George and Ginny stood together taking cover behind the bookshelves towards the back of the shop, pages from various destroyed tomes fluttering through the air as they ducked and dodged curses, sticking their arms out every few seconds to send out some of their own. Vladimir was on the far left, confidently battling two of them at once, alternating between dodging spells, deflecting them, casting them, and yelling what sounded like vulgar phrases in another language.
"Du-te dracului!" he screamed before brandishing his wand like a whip, slicing through the air. Charlie let out a hearty laugh from beside Fred and Ava as the two Vladimir had been dueling suddenly lost their uniforms, their white cargo pants flying through the air, and they screeched in shock and embarrassment for their nakedness. Their vulnerability gave Vladimir the moment he needed to hit them both with Stunning spells, impressively landing right in their eyes, sending them careening across the floor.
"I've never heard that curse before!" Fred yelled to Charlie over the commotion of the battle.
"The spell was non-verbal," Charlie yelled back, reaching out and deflecting another jet of blue light from in front of their faces. "He was actually just telling them to go fuck themselves in Romanian."
The humor of the moment left as quickly as it arrived as Fleur, one of the figures that had sprung out of the storage cellar, was sent flying across the store, a bubble of blinding yellow light encasing her. She slammed on to the wall next to Barry the Boil and slid down in a crumpled heap, previously mounted shelving falling down upon her and her eyes closed in apparent unconsciousness. Her husband Bill, another one of the hidden Order members, sprinted towards her.
"Bill, watch out!" Fred suddenly screamed.
Another Merryweather solider, this one without a cloak, had jumped out from behind a stack of bright purple crates and launched something at Bill. It was a tiny object, no larger than a Snitch.
But Fred's warning came too late as the ball pelted Bill right in the side of the head. He didn't even have time to scream before an odd sound resonated through the air, deep and ringing with vibration, like the twang of a guitar string.
A violent wave suddenly passed through the entire store, the twang ending with an explosive rumble not much unlike a crack of thunder. Everyone was knocked to the ground with a powerful gust of air, and Bill was flung backwards as though he'd been catapulted. He crashed through the little remainder of the front wall of the shop and continued flying until he rolled on the cobblestone ground of Diagon Alley, nearly fifty yards away.
The invisible shockwave impacted Ava as though she'd been slammed with a powerful ocean wave; she found herself careening backwards with the wind knocked out of her. Her ribs ached and her chest cramped as her backside painfully collided with the metal railing of the staircase landing, feeling it break behind her. With nothing to stop her fall, she tumbled off the edge of the landing, her stomach dropping in panic during her free-fall for only a second before crashing on something rather squishy. She bounced off and rolled across the floor a few feet before coming to a stop and opening her eyes, finally taking in gasps of shallow, painful breath. An unconscious Arthur Weasley lay sprawled out on the ground beneath the staircase, a thin line of blood dribbling out the edge of his mouth.
Realizing his inanimate figure was the squishy thing that had broken her fall, she crawled forward on her hands and knees toward him.
"Arthur," she choked out, her lungs still not fully working properly after the shockwave. Her vision blurred, and a single hot tear escaped from her right eye and spilled down her cheek.
She grasped him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Arthur," she repeated, his head flopping from side to side.
"Hey blondie."
Ava whipped her head up and instantly met the eyes of the same Merryweather soldier who'd flung the ball at Bill. He was standing, but crookedly, his one leg missing a chunk of his pants and bloodied, and cradling his left arm in his right. He sneered down at her and reached into a pocket of his white cargo vest.
Blondie.
It was only then that Ava realized the minuscule weight of the crystal formerly around her neck had disappeared; the necklace masking her true appearance was gone and she was fully exposed.
"No!" she yelled, pushing her palms against the floor and struggling to stand.
"Stupefy!" came a voice from behind her. The smallest breeze whooshed by as Fred sprinted past her, his wand held at arm's length.
The jet of red light landed squarely on the soldier's chest, and he slammed on to the floor with a thud, unmoving. Fred whirled around, panting, his eyes wide.
"Did he just call you-"
"Blondie," Ava finished for him, accepting his outstretched hand and getting to her feet. "The necklace is gone, it must've came off when I fell off the stairs-"
"Fred!"
George and Ginny came running up beside them, a large chunk of the ends of Ginny's hair singed off and George, sporting a nasty looking gash across one of his eyebrows.
"Dad!" Ginny gasped, collapsing to the floor next to her father.
"Where's Gridgeon, have you seen him?" Fred asked his twin breathlessly.
George shook his head, his face screwed up in a grimacing mixture of pain and confusion. "Gridgeon? He's here?"
"Yeah, Ava said it was his voice at the beginning..."
The twins' conversation suddenly became muffled, as though someone was holding their hands over Ava's ears.
Take me.
The words rang out as clear as day to Ava, but they sounded as though they were coming from a different place, somewhere other than the chaotic scene in front of her. It was like she was holding a phone to her ear and someone was directly speaking to her through it.
Take me.
"I've figured it out, see, the ones wearing the cloaks are the magical ones and the ones wearing the vests are the Muggles using the little bombs, like Gridgeon used on Ava..." Fred's voice and the surrounding yells, bangs, and crashes filled the air again at full volume.
"Did either of you just hear that?" she hurriedly asked, looking back and forth between them. Above them on the staircase, Charlie got to his feet and jumped off the steps, flinging himself forward with a wordless battle cry of sorts. They heard a thud and some cursing as he apparently collided with someone on the ground and wrestled them.
"Hear what?" the twins asked in unison, looking at her with identical muddled expressions.
Take me. TAKE ME.
"That!" she exclaimed, looking around her. But the spot behind the staircase was mostly concealed by stacks of crates and bathed in shadow; the action of the battle was happening at the forefront of the store.
Before either of them had a chance to reply, the undeniable crack of a gunshot exploded through the store. For a moment, everything went silent and still; Fred, George, and Ava gaping at one another and Ginny looking over her shoulder at them from the ground with the same shocked expression.
The four of them reacted at once; Ginny stumbling to her feet and joining the twins and Ava as the sprinted around the side of the staircase to see where the noise had come from. The floor was littered with the unconscious bodies of Merryweather soldiers, and near the front of the destroyed store, formerly where the front door had been, was seemingly the last one standing. He stood with his white-booted feet shoulder-length apart, in a proper firing pose, his arms outstretched before him and his hands cupped around a white pistol. He was cornered; Neville, Vladimir, and Charlie all stood around him in a triangular formation, their wands pointed to him.
But all four of them were looking at the same spot: across the store, standing in front of the destroyed bookshelves with a pained but dreamy look on her face, was Luna, the last of the hidden Order members who'd sprang out from the cellar. Her chin slowly sunk as she looked down to her chest; bright red blood blossoming out through her blouse from a spot right beside her shoulder.
"LUNA!" Neville screamed, breaking the bewildered silence, letting his wand clatter to the floor and running to her just as she sunk to her knees.
"WHAT THE HELL-" George roared, but was interrupted by Ginny.
"A gun? Are you kidding me?! Get that thing out of here!" she exclaimed, her hands balled into fists at her side, stomping towards the soldier. George caught her around the waist.
If you can do what they say you can...if you can hear me...take me.
"Fred...he wants to be captured," Ava whispered. The soldier had been oddly looking at Luna with a concerned expression on his face before turning to Ava, his eyes locking on hers, right before the voice echoed in her head again.
"Come again?" Fred whispered back as Ginny struggled with George in front of them, her face contorted in anger and screaming profanities at the soldier. Charlie and Vladimir were arguing, Charlie in English and Vladimir in Romanian, over what to do with him, their wands still trained at his head.
"Take him as a prisoner," Ava said quickly, nodding. "Take him. I'll explain later. Just trust me."
Fred nodded back at her and took a step forward, addressing the small group. "Charlie, Vlad...bind his hands and ankles. We're taking him."
The white-uniformed clad soldier separated his hands from the pistol slowly and dropped it, its heaviness banging on the wooden floor.
"I've got to go, I'm taking her to a Disapparating spot so we can get to St. Mungo's!" Neville exclaimed, rising to his feet with Luna lounged bridal-style in his arms, her platinum blonde head leaning against his chest, her blood already smeared on his clothes.
Fred nodded feverishly. "Go, Neville," he encouraged him.
"I'm going with them, and I'm taking Bill" Ginny declared, and George finally released her. She shot the soldier one last filthy look before she jumped out of the front of the destroyed building and jogged to catch up to Neville, who was already determinedly making his way down the darkened cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, pausing to crouch next to the still-unconscious Bill.
"On your knees," Vladimir growled to the soldier, and lifted his leg to kick him in the back. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain but submissively floated his hands to rest on the back of his head, and lowered himself to his knees.
"Ending the party so soon?"
That voice. Fear itself.
Ice, shooting right through Ava's veins. Spreading through her, like a cancer.
Fred, George, Ava, and Ginny whirled around to look for the source of the voice. It was the same as the one that had tauntingly announced Merryweather's arrival, right after the initial explosion of the wall.
Ava had been right. It was him. He was here.
Gridgeon was standing behind the check-out desk, beside the register at Verity's normal spot. He had rightfully earned the nickname 'Rat-Man' from Fred and George; he was a small man, and his pointed face, covered in prickly looking dark stubble like the last time, was managing an expression one could only describe as a hateful smirk. He was the only one not wearing the white Merryweather uniform; a filthy looking black t-shirt hung limply across his chest, topped off with the same brown coat that looked like it was originally made for someone much taller than him that he'd worn the first time the twins faced him. In his left hand, he casually twirled a wand between his fingers like a baton. His right arm held some sort of tension, but hung down at his side, hidden behind the desk.
"Hello, gorgeous," he jeered, staring straight at Ava, his dark eyes sunken into their sockets like two black beetles. His smirk turned into a wide grin, and he cocked his head to one side. "Miss me?"
"Shut up and admit defeat, you slimy little bastard," said Fred. He stepped in front of Ava protectively and raised his wand at Gridgeon. "You're outnumbered. You're coming with us."
"Am I?" Gridgeon replied in a sing-song voice, his head tilting from side to side as though he was considering something. Ava's eyes were trained on his mouth, the teeth showing through his maniacal grin: they were stained red.
"And drop the wand," George commanded, taking a stance directly beside Fred, nearly completely shielding Ava from view. "You have no right to wield it. We know all about you, you disgusting, blood-sucking Squib. Whose is it this time, anyway?"
"Have you been a big tough man and murdered another little girl?" Fred continued.
The moment the slur escaped George's mouth, something flashed in Gridgeon's eyes. Ava swore it was pain, humiliation really, but it was gone rapidly and once again replaced with the sarcastic, cruel glare.
"Well there hasn't been a murder...yet. Me and this lovely lady have been spending some time together behind the desk, and would you believe, she was kind enough to graciously offer me her wand!" His right arm that had been tight with tension suddenly curled upward, and the first thing to appear from behind the desk was his fist, grasping a handful of black hair. He lifted further and the dazed face of Verity appeared next, her eyes rolling in the back of her head and her body limp. She was moaning softly, and a bloody wound leaked from the side of her neck.
Both Fred and George stumbled in place in surprise, and Ava suddenly felt an enormous pressure on her bladder, sharp and urgent. Fuck Gridgeon. Fuck him. He was not going to make her piss her pants in fear.
"Let her go!" Fred growled, taking a step forward. George moved along with him, and Charlie and Vladimir exchanged uncertain glances, not sure whether to help the twins or keep the soldier on his knees.
"Ah—wait just a moment, boys," Gridgeon replied, twirling the wand with a final flourish and landing the tip on Verity's temple. Fred and George froze in place. "Change in plans. I'm going to walk out of here, right through the front...hole," he said, glancing at the ragged space that had been blasted away, lacking a door, "and you're going to let me. Or else this bitch fries."
"No way," George replied back instantly.
"Yes way," Gridgeon countered, his grin now so joyous it almost looked as though he were fighting back laughter. "And you're going to let me take the lovely Ava home as well. You know...as a party favor."
At the word 'home', the icy fear writhing inside Ava melted, replaced by a bubbling, boiling anger. Home, the place she'd grown up in Vermont. Home, the place she was safe with her parents. Home, the place her mother died, wasting away of cancer and the place her father died, drowning in his sorrow. The place she would never go again. The family she would never see again.
Fuck Gridgeon. Fuck him.
"Fuck you!" she found herself screaming, her voice so loud and shrill it hurt her own ears. She wasn't even in control of her own legs anymore; she found herself striding around the twins and standing beside Fred.
"No, no, no, fuck you," Gridgeon replied, the grin disappearing from his face and replaced by a hard stare. "You've ruined everything. And you've nearly ruined me."
She was seeing red. Red, the color of Sarah's blood all over Ava's arms and all over the floor after she gave birth to Gridgeon's son, the product of his brutality.
Her blood was boiling. She couldn't think straight. Her blood was boiling.
"There is nothing to ruin! There is nothing! Because you...you...are...nothing!" Ava screamed back, stomping her foot childishly. The floor shook a little, and Verity moaned again, lolling her head to the other side.
"Someone wrangle this tantrum-throwing imbecile," said Gridgeon, rolling his eyes as though he were bored. "Really Ava, are you trying to get another one of your friends killed?"
"You've got about one second before I run out of patience and just use the Killing Curse on you," Fred said in a low voice, keeping his wand raised with one arm but reaching out to his side and pushing Ava backwards with his other.
"And you've got about one second before I just use the Killing Curse on her," he jabbed Verity's temple with the wand again. "So it looks like we've got ourselves at a stalemate."
There was a long moment of silence that hung in the air, before the voice of a nearly forgotten friend broke through.
"Hey, ugly."
Everyone tilted their heads back to see Lee, still in his striped clown costume and vivid makeup, leaning over the edge of the railing on the catwalk. He was directly above Gridgeon, and his one hand grasped the railing, while the other held a tiny glass vial swirling with angry orange fluid inside.
With one swift movement as everyone watched in bewilderment, he brought the vial of Dragon Breath to his lips, downed it, and leaned over the railing further.
"Aaahhhhh!" he said loudly, as though he were letting a dentist study the inside of his mouth. He opened his jaw wide, and a jet of flames, so hot Ava could feel it from her stance across the room, exploded from his mouth, licking at the top of Gridgeon's head.
"Aarrgghhhh!" Gridgeon screamed, and in his moment of panic and surprise, released Verity, who fell to the floor with a thud. His arms flailed as he screamed incoherently and patted at his head frantically as the smell of burning hair filled the air.
Fred and George didn't pause to react; Fred reached out and grabbed on to Ava's hand and the three of them ran forward, heading to the desk, their hate for Gridgeon momentarily forgotten as the injured Verity became their first priority.
"Portus!" Gridgeon yelled, his head still smoking, aiming Verity's stolen wand at a fallen display table and turning it into a Portkey.
Fred whirled around in a panic as George crouched next to Verity. "Vlad, get him!" he screamed.
"Stupefy!" Vladimir cried out in his thick accent, but his wand had already been trained on the still-kneeling soldier, and he was just a second too slow in turning it on Gridgeon, who slid on his stomach towards the table with his fingertips outstretched. The red jet of light exploded in the exact place he promptly disappeared from.
"Shit!" Fred yelled, releasing Ava's hand and banging his fist down on the check-out desk. "Shit, shit, shit!"
Vladimir was standing frozen in place, blinking slowly with a dazed look on his face. "I missed," he said softly, his voice full of disbelief. "I can't believe it. I missed."
"You didn't miss," said Charlie, "he just beat you, is all-"
"I missed," Vladimir repeated, still dumbfounded.
The inhabitants of the room stayed in an awkward silence for a few moments before the kneeling soldier made a noise to clear his throat.
"Um...do I have to stay...like this?" he asked, looking up, his eyes shifting from Vladimir to Charlie to the twins.
"Oh shut the hell up," Fred snapped. He leaned both of his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands.
"Yeah, I'm okay," came Verity's soft voice from behind the desk where George kneeled beside her, talking to her in a soothing voice.
Lee began descending the stairs, lifting his feet high in the air to avoid tripping over his comically large red clown shoes. "Mr. Weasley!" he exclaimed, freezing in place and staring at the far side of the shop.
Everyone turned to see Arthur limping towards the group, a purple bruise already beginning to form around his chin and mouth, Fleur at his side. Her arm was draped around his shoulders and he held on to her wrist.
"Where eez Beel?" she gasped hoarsely, squeezing her eyes shut in pain as she walked. "Where eez my 'usband?"
Ava rushed forward, pulling Fleur's other arm around her shoulders and helping support her as she looked up at Arthur, mouthing the word 'sorry' for momentarily forgetting about both of them while they'd been caught up in the chaos of Gridgeon. He gave a small smile and waved his hand to the side dismissively.
"He's been taken to St. Mungo's, where you all need to be heading right now anyway," said Charlie. "Verity, Fleur, Dad...you're not looking so good."
"Thanks son," Arthur gasped, coming to a stop beside the desk.
"Hey," George said suddenly, rising to his feet and supporting Verity beside him, "Where's Harry and Ron?"
"They weren't here tonight," Ava said, shaking her head, hoisting Fleur's arm on a more comfortable position.
"Yes, exactly," Fred said, his head rising from his palms. "They were supposed to be here, in the cellar with you two and Luna," he said, coming up beside his father and nodding at him and Fleur. He pulled Arthur's arm around his shoulders. "You alright, Dad?" he muttered. His father nodded at him.
Right on cue, a sharp crack resounded through the destroyed store as a snowy-white owl appeared, flapping its' wings to hover in place beside Charlie. Everyone, including the soldier still kneeling in submission jumped in place at the sudden noise.
"It's an emergency St. Mungo's owl," George observed aloud.
Charlie nodded and reached out to grasp the envelope held tightly between the owl's talons, made of parchment and stamped with the St. Mungo's emblem on the front. He tore it open hurriedly as the rest of the room watched him in anticipation, flinching again as the owl disappeared with another crack.
To everyones' surprise, a grin suddenly broke out across Charlie's sweaty, dust-streaked face. "Well, well, well," he muttered to himself, chuckling and shaking his head.
"I know this is hard to believe, coming from me, but what in the world could possibly be funny right now?" Fred asked in a strained voice, his knees buckling slightly under his father's weight.
Charlie let the hand grasping the note fall to his side as he chuckled again. "I know where Harry and Ron are, and Hermione, for that matter."
A moment of silence hung in the air. "Well, spit it out, you git!" George sputtered.
Charlie continued grinning and tilted his head towards the wall-less front of the store. "Let's get out of here and head to the hospital. Fred, George...we've got a new niece to meet. Dad, you're a Grandfather again. Hermione's had her baby."
"They're so...weird."
Fred was staring down at the tiny baby in his arms, swaddled in a pale pink blanket with a soft tuft of red hair already on her head. He and Ava sat together on the cushioned window seat of Hermione and Ron's room, their heads tilted together as they gazed at the sleeping infant.
"Weird?" Ava asked back softly, smiling and raising her eyebrows. She looked up through the top of her lashes and met Fred's eyes, which were crinkled with a grin.
"Yeah, I mean...they're weird," he repeated, looking down at his niece again. She was resting in the crook of his right arm, and he reached around with his left, stroking her small, peachy cheek with the back of his index finger affectionately. "They're people. Regular people, human beings, like you and me. But they grow inside of someone, and then they're here, and they're so...little. It's weird." He glanced up again to meet Ava's amused eyes, and they burst into a fit of soft giggles together.
"Fred, are you sure you didn't hit your head back there?" she asked, reaching up behind him and touching his hair.
He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and slightly frowning. "Ah. Back there. Don't remind me of that shit show, please."
Ava's face softened, and she let her fingers linger on the back of his head. "It wasn't a shit show. Everyone in the Order is safe, none are too badly injured, we've got ourselves a prisoner, and Kingsley and the Aurors took the rest of the unconscious goons into custody."
"Right, but we didn't get the one goon we really wanted," Fred replied, shaking his head.
"We'll get him," Ava whispered, squeezing the back of his neck gently.
He looked down to the baby again, his gaze unmoving from her sleeping face. "Weird," he murmured again, smiling down at the infant.
"Very," Ava murmured back, smiling.
Fred turned to her. "You want to hold her?"
"Oh, Fred...I don't know if that's a good idea...if Hermione and Ron want their baby passed around like a party favor..."
"They're ecstatic," he said simply, looking across the room. Hermione sat upright in bed, her hair in a bun atop her head, beaming at Fred and Ava with a smile curving her lips. Ron stood beside her bed, his one hand resting on her shoulder, his other pumping the hands of a seemingly never-ending parade of people coming in to congratulate them.
Without waiting for her to answer, Fred gently passed the baby over into Ava's arms. Her warm weight found the perfect spot in the crook of her elbow.
"Here, give her your finger to hold on to, like this," Fred whispered, reaching across. He tickled her impossibly small hand with his own and she flexed minutely. He slid his pinky into her palm and Ava watched in astonishment as the baby closed her fist around it.
"When the first baby of the family arrived...it was Bill and Fleur's daughter, Victoire...me and George couldn't stop doing this. We got such a kick out of it. It's amazing, you know?" he grinned down at his niece, wiggling his finger in her little grasp.
"You like babies, don't you?" Ava asked, smiling at him. He looked over at her again and grinned sheepishly.
"I do, yeah. They're so innocent, and all they want to do is be happy. They cry an awful lot, but it's because things aren't perfect...a wet diaper, a hungry belly, a restless sleep...they just want things to be perfect, all the time. It's refreshing to be around something that's so easy to please, so easy to make smile and laugh. It's like they're so demanding, yet have no demands at all, at the same time...does that make sense?"
Ava couldn't quite describe the sensation she was feeling in her chest. It felt as though her heart was sinking down into her abdomen yet simultaneously fluttering up and out of her sternum.
"Ava?"
"Yeah," she whispered back finally, nodding once. Her eyes filled and blurred with tears as she looked down at the baby in her arms.
"Hey...hey, what's wrong?" Fred asked, his face falling in concern. When Ava didn't answer right away, he raised a single eyebrow and leaned in close. "I told you, I know the signs of crying...do you have a wet diaper? Hungry belly?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, begrudgingly grinning and laughing. When she opened them, Fred was grinning back, but his eyes were still worried.
"Thank you for making me laugh," she said, wiping her face with the back of her free hand. "I know I'm being morose, but I guess looking at her...I can't help but think about Sarah's baby, you know?"
He bit his bottom lip and nodded, waiting for her to say more. She sighed.
"I think it's safe to say Sarah wasn't looking to become a mother while we were trapped there, I mean, Gridgeon had been proclaiming his love for her and forcing himself on her, the whole thing was disgusting...but when it did happen...when Sarah knew she was getting close to it being time...she wanted that baby. She wanted her son."
"Why?"
"Because it was the only thing that was truly hers," Ava replied softly. Her grey-green eyes met Fred's brown ones. "We had...everything, stolen from us there. Our lives...our futures...our sanity. It all belonged to Merryweather. We were at their mercy. But Sarah's baby was hers, you know? She grew him inside of her, felt him move, gave birth to him, gave her life for him...he was hers. And then she was gone, and then he was taken away...and who knows where that baby is now."
Their eyes were unmoving, remaining connected as Fred replied. "That was the last baby you held before this one, wasn't it?"
Ava sighed again and nodded, looking down at baby Rose. "I want him back, Fred. I want that baby safe. For Sarah...for her parents! To have a piece of their daughter back..." she trailed off, and felt Fred's hand rest upon the back of her head.
"We'll get him," he whispered
"I told you...he wanted to be taken. He wasn't just thinking it, he was feeling it, with every ounce of his body...it was clear as day...take me."
Ava shifted her feet uncomfortably and folded her arms across her chest. The small audience before her—Vladimir, Harry, Fred, George, and Ginny—were all staring at her like she had three heads.
"Maybe I was wrong," she muttered, her face feeling hot. A kettle dangling above the crackling fireplace of the Treehouse began to whistle and they all jumped, George whipping out his wand and pointing at it over his shoulder. The kettle quieted, levitated off of its' hook and began pouring itself into a cup resting on the closest long wooden table.
"I don't see why we have to make him bloody tea," he muttered gruffly, turning on his heel and fetching the steaming mug.
"He is not talking," said Vladimir quietly. "I try nice talk, I try mean talk, I try torture. The prisoner does not talk."
It was nearly a full twenty-four hours since the battle inside the shop, and after everyone had visited the hospital, they'd decided to stick together and head to the Burrow for some food and rest. But apparently, food and rest meant nothing to the determined Vladimir—he'd been awake this entire time, questioning—or attempting to question, rather—the soldier who Ava had heard begging for imprisonment.
"So, are we adding Veritaserum to our little tea party?" George asked.
It was Ginny who shook her head. "No, George. We're just being nice."
"Nice?!" Fred hissed. "He's a Merryweather. He shot Luna. Screw being nice!"
George nodded enthusiastically beside him, but Ginny rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Dragon Ass."
"Dragon Bum, and that's George," Fred corrected his sister, his cheeks growing pink nonetheless.
"Whatever. Point is, if you want someone to trust you, you feed them."
"Like a dog?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.
Ginny nodded back. "Actually, yeah. Food is bonding. We come together while eating, it's a fact."
"I'm not cooking him a fucking Christmas goose, Ginny!" Fred hissed, jabbing his index finger in the air.
She slapped his finger down and rolled her eyes again. "Tea will do. Okay, ready?"
"You all go," said Vladimir, nodding gravely. They all turned to look at him, and took notice of the dark purple rings around his eyes. "I need to rest."
"Yeah, of course mate, you go on ahead," George encouraged, nodding.
Vladimir strode over to the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo powder into the flames but pausing to look at them before he stepped in. "If he still does not talk...wait for me. I can be...persuasive." And with that, he disappeared under the mantle.
Fred was looking after him, open mouthed. "Remind me to never get on his bad side," he whispered, blinking slowly.
"Come on," Ginny said, and lead the way up the twisting spiral staircase. When the five of them reached the top, she paused for a moment before nodding to herself and stepping into the third level.
The others followed suit, filing in quietly. The enormous white bed that Fred had summoned for Ava was gone, replaced by nothing but a chair in the center of the room, where the soldier sat, his hands bound and his ankles tied to the legs. The fading evening sunlight was streaming in through the screen windows, and Ava finally took notice of his appearance without the chaos of the battle to distract her. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, no older than the twins. His skin was a natural tanned color, as though he spent a lot of time in the sun, and he was in shape, his shoulder and chest muscles straining against his white t-shirt. His jawline was thick and straight and his hair was closely cropped to his head and light golden brown in color. He stared straight ahead, his hazel eyes looking out at the doorway but focusing on nothing in particular.
"Hi," Ginny said gently. His eyes traveled over to her, looking her body up and down slowly, but he said nothing.
Ginny exchanged glances with the group before trying again. "What's your name?"
At first, it seemed like the soldier had no intention of answering. He just sat there in silence, and Ava could feel Fred growing more and more impatient beside her, fidgeting in place.
Then, he finally licked his lips, looked up at Ginny again, and opened his mouth. "I'm thirsty."
Ava felt her head cocking to one side as his voice piqued her interest. Although he was attempting to sound hard, his voice was warm, and had a pleasant twang to it, which she recognized as American Southern.
Ginny looked over to George and nodded enthusiastically. George couldn't help himself; he rolled his eyes before taking a single, wide step forward and offering him the mug of tea.
"Here," he said shortly.
The soldier looked up at George, expressionless for a second, before hitching one side of his mouth up in a smirk. "And just how do you expect me to drink that with my hands tied?" he asked.
George's jaw visibly dropped and he whirled around, the tea sloshing from side to side in the cup. "Nope, not feeding him," he said, striding forward and pressing the cup into Ginny's palm instead. "I'm done."
The soldier laughed to himself lightly as Ginny took a step forward, and bent at the knees in front of him.
"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Fred muttered, matching an identical stance as his twin and staring at the man sourly, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Ava shifted her eyes to the side and met her gaze with Harry's, who was doing his best to stifle laughter.
He kept his eyes trained on Fred, staring at him over the brim of the cup as Ginny tilted the tea into his mouth.
"Hey Fred, I think he's into you," Ava whispered, elbowing Fred in his ribs.
"Oh, please," he whispered back, still staring straight ahead at him, but a smile twitched around his lips.
Ginny took away the cup and took a step back. "There. Is that better?"
The soldier puffed out his cheeks, swishing a mouthful of the tea around, and turned his head to the side, spitting it all over the floor. "Yeah. That's better."
They all stared in shock for a few moments before Fred made a scoffing sound. "You're a rude, cocky prat, you know that?"
He smirked again. "Yeah, and baiting Merryweather with fireworks and telling them to come and get you isn't cocky?"
It was silent again until he turned his attention back to Ginny, looking at her up and down again. "You single, sweetheart?"
"Is this git for real?!" George demanded out loud, holding his arms out at his sides. Ava and Harry exchanged looks again, and Harry finally exploded into his best attempt at muffled guffaws.
"What—no! No, I am not single!" Ginny replied hotly, taking a step backwards and grabbing Harry's hand.
The soldier shrugged and instead turned to Ava, cocking his head to one side and squinting at her with a devilish smile on his lips. "And you?"
"I AM GOING TO END YOU!" Fred roared, reaching up his sleeve and whipping out his wand.
He remained unaffected, sighing as though he were slightly bored with the whole situation. "Oh I don't mean to trample on anyone's territory. It's just that I've been mighty lonely for a few years and haven't been fed tea by pretty girls...well, ever."
Fred looked over to his side to see Ava, who was suddenly staring at the soldier with the oddest of expressions on her face, like she was confused but contemplating some sort of idea.
"Why are you looking at him like that?" he asked her.
Ava didn't reply; instead, she took a step forward, and another one, until she was so close to the soldier her shins were nearly touching his knees. She bent down like Ginny had.
"You're a Jarhead, aren't you?" she asked softly.
The hardness and sarcasm seemingly melted right off his face then; his mouth went just slightly agape and his brows came together.
"I am," he replied simply.
Ava gave him a small nod. "I could tell." She straightened up and backed away, taking her original spot beside Fred. Everyone was gaping at her.
"What was that you called him?" George asked.
Ava looked over to the soldier again. He was watching her now. "He's a United States Marine,"she explained. "Nicknamed Jarheads by fellow Marines and family members. My dad was one, for over twenty years."
"How could you tell he was one?" asked Ginny in bewilderment.
Ava shrugged. "I dunno, I guess growing up with one as a father kind of gave me the eyes for it, you know? His haircut gives it away sure, but..." she trailed off, looking back towards the Marine, choosing to address him directly. "You just had the look in your eyes."
He laughed, but it was bitter. "Well then, teach me how to get 'the look' out of my eyes, because I am out. Done. I did not sign up for this shit."
"Merryweather?" Ava pressed.
He nodded. "I wanted to be amazing, I wanted to have a life. God, I love Texas, but I did not want to live and die there! I wanted to travel the world, save lives, serve my country. Not this shit."
"Which is what, exactly?"
He stared at her hard. "I don't even know what the hell to call it anymore."
Fred scoffed again. "Stop playing the victim. You shot our friend."
"Yeah. I did. Is she alright?"
"As if you care!" George exclaimed.
"She's alright," Ginny said softly. The twins shot her identical dirty looks.
"And is that why you wanted to be taken by us? To get out?" Ava asked.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, a hard look in his eyes. "That's right," he finally replied.
"He's lying!"
The outburst had come from Harry. Everyone turned to look at him in equal incredulity, as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"There's just...well, there's more to the story than what he's saying," Harry said, shrugging. "I haven't learned nothing from interrogating people at the Auror office the past four years."
They all considered what he said for a moment before turning back to the soldier.
"Is that true?" Ava asked him.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek again, wagging his head back and forth, an arrogant look on his face. "Maybe. Maybe not. Bottom line is, I want out. And I want them to go down."
"Merryweather?"
"Yup. You heard me. I want to take them down. So if that's what this whole..." he trailed off, staring at Fred's exposed wand in disgust and all around him at the tiny room of the Treehouse, "thing, is about...then I want in with you. I want to be there when they fall."
The silence after his proclamation was broken by Ginny clasping her hands together. "Good. Good! Excellent. Glad to have you on our side...what did you say your name was, again?"
He lifted his chin, his face hard again. "My name is Dakota Murray."
"Right. Well Dakota, we are ecstatic to have you here...all of us," she said pointedly, staring down the twins.
Fred's lips twitched as though he was doing his best to keep his voice inside of his mouth, and George raised a single eyebrow high into his hairline.
"Yes, yes, he's great," he said sarcastically. "Are we done now?"
"Hey!" Dakota exclaimed, "You can't just leave me tied here like this! And why do I have to tell y'all everything but y'all haven't disclosed anything to me? What about Merryweather?"
"We'll be back soon and talk more," Ginny promised him. His mouth was a thin, hard line, but he nodded once.
"I'll stay for a minute and uh...untie him...Transfigure this chair into a cot..." Harry muttered vaguely, running his fingers through his messy black hair.
"Sounds good," Fred said, and looked over to Ava. "We're going," he said shortly, and grabbed her hand, leading her to the doorway and down the spiral staircase impatiently, George and Ginny following behind.
Ava couldn't help but giggle with Ginny when they reached the bottom.
"What's so funny?" Fred demanded, the hint of a fie still burning in his eyes.
Ava stifled more laughter. "Nothing, it's just...well...you're a jealous one, aren't you? 'I'm going to end you'? That was kind of amazing, Fred."
Fred tried to keep a straight face, but joined in on the laughter as well for a bit before sighing, shaking his head and turning to his sister. "You're not actually trusting him this much off the bat, are you?" he asked her seriously.
Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "Absolutely not. He's gone rogue for his own fellowship. Who knows what he's capable of."
The twins nodded back with her, but Ava stayed silent, contemplating the whole situation. While none of them knew for certain what his whole story was, and while none of them may be overly fond of him, one thing was for certain: if Dakota Murray had indeed gone rogue, he would be a valuable addition.
Because, in Ava's mind, rogue or not, anyone looking to take down Merryweather was an ally in her book.