"Paris," Katie breathed in awe. "He took you to Paris."

"He gave you a flower on the top of the goddamn Eiffel Tower," Angelina gaped up at me, before flopping back on my bed and staring at the ceiling. "That's so unfair. You got a flower on top of the Eiffel Tower and I got a mop to clean up vomit."

It was around ten in the morning, and the girls and I had all curled up on my bed with no intention to move for the rest of the day. We'd gathered our supplies and had about six bags of chocolate cookies surrounding us, which I was chewing on when I answered.

"It was without a doubt the best day of my life," I said, my gaze trailing to the flower George had given me where it now sat in a vase on my bedside table. Unable to help it, a smile stretched across my face.

'Look at that grin,' Alicia giggled, nudging me with her elbow. 'You're practically swooning.'

Trying to fight it just made me grin widen against my will. 'I am not swooning,' I argued, picking up another cookie and shoving it in my mouth in an effort to stop myself from grinning.

'The whole thing sounds maddeningly romantic,' Angelina sighed. 'I think you've made the cut, Bree; this is going in my book.'

'I feel honored.'

Katie finally sat back up to rejoin the conversation. 'I can't believe that he gave you a red rose on the top of the Eiffel Tower after leading you around Paris all day and you made it home still a virgin,' she said, and I choked so thoroughly on the cookie that Alicia had to start thumping my back to clear my airway.

'Yeah, that won't be the turnout in my book, that's for sure,' Angelina said, and my jaw dropped as I stared at them.

'Oh my God!' I cried, and they both shrugged unrepentantly. 'Right, moving on, please!'

Angelina and Katie glanced at each other. 'Well, I mean, have you ever thought that maybe you and George could be… more than friends?' Angelina asked carefully, and my eyes widened in surprise.

Before I'd even had time to consider her words, I blurted out 'no! No way! Me and George? Are you kidding? No, that would never work. No way. Nooooooooooo.'

'Why not?' Alicia queried.

'Because… well, because…' I shook my head to gather my thoughts. 'It just wouldn't. We're… incompatible.'

Katie raised her eyebrows. 'The other week he blessed you before you'd even sneezed. You two are literally completely in sync.'

'We are not. We're just friends; it's not romantic,' I said, shifting uncomfortably. 'I thought we were changing the subject.'

They all ignored my request. 'Oh, just friends take each other to Paris now?' Katie said sarcastically. 'Well then ladies, where's my flower on top of the Eiffel Tower?'

'Have you ever thought that the reason this topic makes you so uncomfortable is because you secretly maybe do have a thing for George?' Alicia asked, and all at once my shoulders stiffened and I shot them all a glare.

'That's ridiculous. Stop being annoying," I said flatly, and thankfully my tone warned them that I was serious and they dropped the topic- not before sharing a glance that was a little bit too meaningful for my tastes. Just in time, though, because at that moment the door opened and the rest of the occupants of the house trickled in.

Sam sighed loudly before flopping face first down onto my bed. 'Toby is being insufferable,' he groaned. 'He's threatening Ron into investigating his stolen money when term starts back.'

'Why Ron?' Angelina queried, and Fred shrugged.

'Probably because he's the weakest link. Ya know, in the absence of Neville Longbottom.'

Angelina shrugged her agreement, but I was confused. 'Wait, Toby's missing money?' I asked, as George and Fred settled themselves down beside me.

'Yeah, someone stole €500 from him at the party,' Katie said, and simultaneously George's and my eyes widened.

My mouth gaped open for a moment as George blinked owlishly. 'Oh,' he eventually said slowly, and I leant over the bed to grab the €200 we had left out of the pocket of my jeans that were discarded on the floor from the day before.

'Right, here's the plan,' I said quickly, as everyone's eyes fell to the money and varying looks of disbelief crossed their features. 'We found it at the bottom of the laundry hamper-'

'He already checked there,' Sam supplied, a sly grin crossing his features.

'-Okay, we found it under the couch cushions-'

'He already checked there, too,' Fred sniggered. 'He was very thorough.'

'FUCK!' I cried loudly. 'Where can we have found it?'

'How about you admit you stole his money? I personally would like to see how that plays out,' Sam said.

'Well, I mean, I highly doubt that I would've stolen it from him!' I cried.

'Try telling him that,' Sam commented lazily, and at once I grabbed his collar and pulled him up to face me.

'Listen here, you little bitch, if I go down, you're going down with me,' I snarled, and Sam gulped thickly. 'So unless you want to feel both the wrath of Toby for stealing his money and our parents for throwing a party so wild someone broke our chandelier, then you better think on your damn feet.'

'You wouldn't-'

'TOBY!' I yelled, and in a second he was standing in the doorway, chewing on piece of caramel candy lazily. His eyes widened when I held up the wad of money, and he let out a cry as he rushed forward to grab it from me.

'Oh my God! Where was it?!' he yelled, and I nudged Sam forward. For a moment, he just blinked owlishly up at Toby, before swallowing thickly and stuttering out, 'Er, uh… in… Dad's desk drawer. One of Dad's desk drawers. Specifically the upper drawer.'

Toby raised his eyebrows. 'I thought the door to Dad's office was locked during the party?'

'Uh… true! That is very true! That was a precaution we were taking, wasn't it?' Sam cleared his throat, and then left it at that. Toby's eyebrows slowly raised higher as we all waited for Sam to continue, which it soon became apparent he would not be doing.

'Guess someone was sober enough to magically unlock the door,' George commented idly after a long silence. 'Half of your dad's pens are missing, too.'

'Could've been around the time Seamus Finnigan fell asleep and had dicks drawn all over him,' Fred added.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Jesus Christ, this cover up is fucking embarrassing.

'I wonder why they only took half of it,' Toby said curiously, and I shrugged.

'You know what they say,' I chirped. 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.'

Simultaneously, Fred and George's eyes shot to me.

'Why can't you look a horse in the mouth?' George asked, sounding confused.

'Why would someone give you a gift horse?' Fred added.

'Seems an odd thing to do.'

'Yeah, if I was gonna ask for any animal as a gift, it would be something cool like a dragon.'

'Maybe we should ask Bill for a dragon for Christmas.'

'Might not be legal. And you'd definitely not want to look a dragon in the mouth.'

'Yeah, but why not a horse? They don't breathe fire. I'm not sure there's anything to really be afraid of from a pet horse.' Simultaneously, they both turned back to look at me. 'Bree, why can't you look a gift horse in the mouth?'

I just groaned and flopped back on the bed, covering my face with a pillow.

The next few days were unbelievably boring, as they tended to be at Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Lupin were the only occupants of the house I'd shared my Parisian adventure with, to which Sirius did not disappoint and laughed uproariously at. Lupin had looked mildly disapproving, until Sirius had begun recounting some of their more rebellious adventures and Lupin had joined in happily.

Anyway, that was a week ago. Eight days ago, to be exact. Eight boring as shit days. Today was worse. The Weasley's had all taken off to the hospital; Hermione had gone to lunch with her Mom; Sam had gone last minute gift shopping with Toby (and made up a ridiculous excuse that made no sense whatsoever and then fled before he inevitably revealed that it was me he was shopping for); Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye and Mundungus hadn't been around for a few days and I hadn't seen Snape or McGonagall since school finished. Seriously, even Snape could provide a smidgeon of entertainment. That's how desperate I am.

So it was just Harry, Sirius and I in the house, and we'd run out of things to talk about quite a while ago. The last words spoken had been forty minutes ago when Sirius had commented that he hoped Molly would make good on her word and make pork chops tonight and Harry had agreed. I had learnt, however, that Sirius's cheerful attitude was a rather recent development. He'd spent every single day in this dark and dreary place since we took off for Hogwarts again, and frankly I would take Umbridge over being alone in this place any day of the week. Anyway, he slipped back into a pretty depressed state anytime the house emptied due to the fact that he was unable to leave for even a moment. He was so cheerful with everyone here that it sort of broke my heart to see him so melancholy.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and went back to my potions essay, which was proving to be even more tedious than sitting in complete silence. Harry also looked to be working on a piece of homework for good old Severus, and Sirius was reading the Daily Prophet.

After a few more minutes, Sirius placed the paper down and stood to retrieve a drink from the other side of the kitchen, though I don't think Harry noticed him at all. He had been a lot more cheery since he learnt for certain that You-Know-Who wasn't playing around inside of his head, but he was still very obviously stressed (for good reason, too). I looked up just in time to see him rubbing the lightning bolt scar on his head for about the sixth time in ten minutes, and decided to speak up.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, and he continued rubbing it absentmindedly.

"I've been having nightmares," he muttered, before his head shot up and he seemed to remember who he was talking to. He looked horrified, like he'd revealed something he shouldn't have, which only concerned me more. What sort of nightmares?

I recognized the look that came over him then. He thought he'd said too much- he was shutting me out. Sirius arrived back at the table then, throwing himself heavily into his chair at the head of the table. Simultaneously, they let out quiet sighs, but seemed not to notice each other's moods.

I honestly couldn't take it anymore.

My chair let out a loud screech as I shot to my feet. They both started at the loud noise, looking up at me with similar looks of confusion.

"Get up," I ordered, and for a moment, they merely stared at me. "Get up!" I repeated, louder and more forceful, and they both seemed to realize I wasn't playing around. They both shot to their feet, looking at me for further instructions. With a grin, I nodded towards the doorway. "Come on."

"Where?" Sirius called, but I merely repeated the instruction and, without anything better to do, they both followed me out of the kitchen.

"Where are we going, Bree?" Harry asked in confusion as we passed the main staircase, falling silent as I came to a stop beside the front door.

Spinning around on my heel to face them, I finally let a wide smile break out across my face. "Outside," I said simply.

Nervously, Harry looked at Sirius, as though asking him what to do. "But- I thought we weren't supposed to leave the house-"

With a sigh, Sirius's whole body slouched. "Harry's right, Bree," he said in resignation. "I'm on house arrest."

"Oh, fuck house arrest!" I cried, and they both looked startled at my sudden swearing. "This is ridiculous and you both know it! I mean, yeah, obviously it's safest to sit inside all day every day and never risk anyone spotting you, but, my God, that's not living! Death Eaters and Ministry workers aren't patrolling the streets searching for any sign of you- and for Merlin's sakes, you're a secret animagus! So switch over to doggy mode and come play in the damn snow with me!"

For a moment, they both just stared at me in surprise, and I took a step forwards.

"Are you Sirius Black or not? You're a legend at Hogwarts for your dangerously reckless behavior. Have you really changed so much? Take a risk, Sirius!" I taunted, knowing that if there was one thing Sirius Black could not stand for, it was a challenge.

He narrowed his eyes, as a wide grin slowly spread across his face. In a second, he had transformed into a dog, and I clapped my hands together excitedly, skipping forwards to open the door. I had just reached it when I mockingly gasped, spinning around.

"Wait! Where's your leash?"

Sirius let out a bark and rolled his eyes, nudging Harry's leg when he laughed, our excitement easily spreading to the dark haired boy. I opened the door and Sirius went sprinting outside, Harry and I close behind him. For a moment, Sirius looked sort of overwhelmed; I hadn't forgotten this was his first time outside in months. He looked up at the sky for a second, before he dropped down to the ground, rolled onto his back, and began wiggling around in the snow. I laughed loudly at his antics, throwing myself down beside him and throwing my arms out to make a snow angel. Once satisfied, I sat up to admire it, only to have something cold collide with the side of my face. Squealing loudly at the cold, my head shot up to see Harry standing a few feet away, already rolling another snowball up between his hands. I shot to my feet, sprinting towards him, and he backed up whilst throwing the snowball at me in an attempt to slow me down. It failed, and a second later I had tackled him into the snow, before pushing the snow up on top of him and straddling his waist so he couldn't wriggle away. I remembered then how contagious Harry's laughter was; I hadn't heard it in such a long time.

Eventually he managed to push me off and called a truce, brushing the snow out of his hair mostly unsuccessfully. I heard excited barking from behind me and turned to see Sirius running in a circle, chasing his tail.

"I haven't seen him this happy in a really long time," Harry said quietly, and I turned my gaze to him. Instead of answering properly, I got to my feet, brushing the snow off of my thighs before extending my hand to him and pulling him to his feet.

"It's snowman building time, Potter!" I declared, and he grinned. Over the next hour or so, we played around in the snow. I felt carefree; like a child again. And clearly, I wasn't the only one. I hadn't seen Harry and Sirius so happy in such a long time that I hardly remembered when the last time was. Sirius sprinted around, chasing pigeons, sniffing the ground, and playing with a group of warmly dressed small children nearby us, chasing a ball they threw for him. Occasionally he would return to see what Harry and I were doing, letting out a bark of approval to see how far our snowman family had progressed. At one point, he stood on his hind legs and threw his paws over Harry's shoulders, giving his face an enthusiastic lick and looking very pleased with himself when Harry began laughing.

But unfortunately… it eventually had to come to an end. Sirius eventually flopped down onto the snow, and though he had a warm fur coat to keep him cozy, Harry and I had not stopped to bundle ourselves up before our little field trip. I whistled to get Sirius's attention, and nodded back to Grimmauld Place. He slowly trudged to his feet as we all headed back into the house, shaking his fur out on the doorstep and showering Harry and I in water, barking in response to our loud laughter.

When we got back inside, Sirius transformed back into a human, his nose red from the cold and the biggest grin I'd ever seen upon his face- suddenly, he looked just like the teenager in the photograph on his bedroom wall. The carefree sixteen year old before the breakout of the war, before the death of his friends, and before his time in Azkaban. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. And neither did the Boy-Who-Lived, who hadn't had an opportunity to act like a kid in far too long. We all headed to different levels of the house to warm up in the showers, and if the Weasley's thought it odd that we'd all been showering when they returned, they didn't say anything.

Sirius remained cheery and excitable for the rest of the week, barely wiping the grin off his face for even a moment. The rest of the occupants of the house… I could not say the same for. Nobody more so than my big brother, who could be heard muttering at almost any given time of the day about how much his case load always increased at Christmas time and that 'idiotic people should stop trying to use magic to create gifts and just fucking buy them like normal people.' But anyway, I didn't let it get me down. Take today, for example- with only three days out from Christmas, I was baking up a storm in preparation. I'd requested everybody's help, but at the moment only Sam, Harry, and Ron were helping out. The three boys had been rather unexcited, but it really didn't take very long for them to get into the spirit of things.

'And see, we can make them into different shapes,' I said, pulling a crescent moon cookie cutter out of my baking box and pressing it into the batter Ron had just finished flattening. 'And then you put it onto the baking tray, and it bakes in that shape.'

Ron, I'd come to realize, had never baked anything in his whole life, and he was actually quite enjoying learning some of the wonders of the kitchen.

'What other shapes do you have?' he asked excitedly, digging through the box to find one that looked like Santa's hat. He pressed it into the dough with a gleeful grin.

'See- it's fun!' I cried, moving to take our first lot of fudge- which Harry had excitedly helped me stir- from the oven to transfer it to a cooling rack. 'So we've already got fudge and shortbread, I think we could make some chocolate chip cookies soon- Sam, you're off duty for that, because I'm sick of you eating all my batter-'

'Aw, Bree, come on!'

'-and then if anyone has any suggestions, I'll see what we can do!'

I was interrupted at that moment, however, by the front door of the house slamming open and shut. The next thing audible was very loud singing.

"DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY, FA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA!"

At this point, Mrs Black decided she would join in the noise and began screaming about blood traitors, somewhat belying the festive spirit of our new guest. Sirius shook his head, continuing to read the paper, and Toby let out a very loud sigh to alert everyone to his continued suffering.

"What pest do I have to deal with now?" he muttered. Mostly ignoring the situation, I went back to cutting cookies in the shape of crescent moons until the kitchen door slammed open and we could no longer ignore the new visitor.

"Looks like someone's been decking these halls since I was last present- and if my eyes don't deceive me, it looks like a Montero deck?" Recognizing the voice, my eyes shot up to meet the cheerful face of my Father.

"Oh. That pest," Toby observed.

"DAD!" I cried gleefully, throwing myself at him. Laughing, he easily caught me, and then opened his other arm for Sam, who quickly joined in. "It's about time you showed up!"

"Yeah! We were beginning to worry you weren't going to make it home in time for Christmas!" Sam cried.

"Does this mean you don't want your presents from Scotland?" he asked with a barely concealed grin, and I eagerly shook my head.

"Presents would be nice, thank you," Sam piped up, and at that moment the kitchen door opened and my Mother stepped through.

"No presents until Christmas! Thomas, for Merlin's sakes…" she cried, pulling Sam and I forward into a hug before stepping over to the table and laying a kiss on Toby's head. He swatted her away impatiently, his eyes never leaving the patient files he had been going over all day.

"How was Scotland?" I asked, and Dad nodded.

"Yeah, when I wasn't working it was excellent. Your mother and I had a fantastic time. We went on a boat ride to try and find Nessie!" he cried excitedly.

"Nessie?" I asked in confusion.

"…as in the Loch Ness Monster?" Toby sniggered from the table, and Dad nodded cheerily.

"Yes! That one!"

"And did you find Nessie?" Sam asked, and Dad frowned.

"Well, no, but we did see a suspiciously large, dark shape under the surface of the water and some bubbles trailing along behind it. So I really do think we came close to finding her!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Great, Dad," I said, trying not to laugh.

Mum appeared at Dad's side then, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was a very enjoyable trip, though. We stayed at the most darling bed and breakfast at one point, with a beautiful view of the sun rising over the mountains every morning…"

"Yeah, and they provided breakfast every day," Dad chirped. "Speaking of food, I see you're busy baking… What have you got for me?"

Rolling my eyes fondly, I turned back to my little team of baking helpers. "We've just made some fudge and Ron's just finishing up the shortbread- but you can only have a bit. The rest is for Christmas."

"Is three days out from Christmas close enough?" Dad asked hopefully, and I shot him a mock glare.

"No, it isn't," I said flatly. But as it turns out, the next three days flew by in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, it was Christmas morning.

My Christmas wake up, however, was not the one I had expected.

'weeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The off-key, shouted song was accompanied by somebody throwing themselves onto my bed and beginning to jump up and down, jostling me so much that I only just stopped myself from falling flat onto the floor.

'JESUS CHRIST, SAM!'

Sam stopped his jumping to grin down at me, as I rubbed my eyes tiredly. Ginny and Hermione sat up, looking confused and still mostly asleep, until the door slammed open and all our gazes turned to see Toby standing in the doorway. For a moment we all stared at each other in silence… and then it began again.

'…goooooooooooOOOOOOD TIDINGS WE BRING TO YOU AND YOUR KIN!' Toby cried, running to join Sam in jumping up and down on my bed, this time successfully jostling me to the floor. 'GOOD TIDINGS FOR CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!'

'GOD DAMN IT, GUYS!' I screamed, swinging back up to my feet and glaring at them. They stopped jumping, looking startled. 'FOR GODS SAKES, HOW MANY YEARS IN A ROW DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU… that 'Santa Clause is Coming to Town' is the best Christmas song by FAR!'

Toby laughed excitedly, extending a hand to pull me to stand up on the bed. 'RIGHT YOU ARE, BREE! HE SEES YOU WHEN YOU'RE SLEEPING-'

'-AND HE KNOWS WHEN YOU'RE AWAKE-'

'-AND HE KNOWS IF YOU'VE BEEN BAD OR GOOD SO BE GOOD-'

'-FOR GOODNESS-'

'-SAKES! HEY!'

Ginny and Hermione groaned and flopped back onto their beds. 'Your family's cheer is incessant,' Ginny muttered, and I grinned and pointed at her.

'Hey! There's that Christmas spirit, Ginny!'

'Hermione, you take the next verse!' Sam cried, and Hermione looked startled.

'Oh! Um… er… he's making a list…?' she tried tentatively.

'Yeah he is! And he's checkin' it twice!' Toby yelled.

'He's gonna find out whose naughty or nice!' I continued.

'CAUSE SANTA CLAUSE IS COMING TO TOWN!' Sam yelled. 'YEAH! CHRISTMAS!'

The twins appeared at the door then, rubbing their eyes tiredly. 'What's going on in here?' George yawned, his eyes widening when I threw myself off of the bed and into his arms. Barely catching me, he seemed to wake up at my ensuing giggles, his smile widening in response.

'IT'S CHRISTMAS, GEORGIE!'

'I take it you've opened your presents, then?'

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

'OH! PRESENTS!' Sam exclaimed, jumping from the bed and running out of the room and back to his own. A second later I heard him rousing his friends (Ron groaning loudly) and ushering them to bring their presents downstairs to open.

Half an hour later, everybody sat in the living room of Grimmauld Place still in our pajamas and most of the house's occupants still half asleep. Toby and I had taken it upon ourselves to wake up the adults, with me banging on Sirius's door singing 'God Bless Ye, Merry Hippogriff's' for, like, ten minutes before he answered the door. But eventually, coffee was made and the presents were all shifted to cover the floor of the living room and we all settled onto the floor and the armchairs to share our first real Christmas morning together as one big fat dysfunctional family. I was currently sitting cross legged at the base of the Christmas tree and eagerly ripping the wrapping paper off of my first present.

Mum laughed quietly into her coffee. "You never got any more mature with gift opening, did you?"

"WE AINT GOT TIME FOR MATURITY, MAMA!" Sam cried gleefully, ripping into his own gifts. "NOT WHEN THERE'S PRESENTS TO BE OPENED!"

My first present, however, was not exactly awe inspiring.

"Is this… a homework planner?" I asked in confusion, and Sam laughed loudly until he finished unwrapping his gift to find he'd received the same thing. Without even looking at the card, I said "Oh, how useful. Thank you, Hermione…"

She beamed at me. "It's great, isn't it? And when you open it up it tells you what you need to do with a little encouraging phrase!"

Experimentally flicking the book open to a random page, I winced when a tinny little voice called out "do it today or later you'll pay!"

Turns out we'd all received homework planners from Hermione since she apparently found our homework habits very poor. Thankfully, the Christmas haul significantly improved from this point. An excessive amount of makeup, new recipe books, all the candy you could imagine, and a beautiful charm bracelet from my family being my favorites. I'd been unable to mask my slight horror when I unwrapped a shirt with an animated Loch-Ness Monster on it with the words 'NESSIE #1' from Dad, which he'd seemed super excited about.

"I got us all matching Nessie shirts!" he cried excitedly, whilst Mum winced and mouthed "sorry" from behind his back.

Harry had received some fantastic books all about practicing defensive magic from Sirius and Remus which he excitedly flipped through with me and rambled about how excited he was to go through some of these with the DA. Sam had received a furry brown wallet with fangs from Hagrid; we supposed it was supposed to be anti-theft, but unfortunately the wallet tried to bite Sam every time he came near it. I'd boxed and wrapped the treats we'd made the other day and given them out, which Sirius and Remus were particularly excited about. Hermione had received a perfume from Ron that was really… distinct. It had me sneezing for the next hour. And then Harry unwrapped the best gift of all.

It was a painting that Dobby had painted himself. Ron laughed so hard he could barely draw breath for a solid five minutes.

"Oh, I think it's very thoughtful!" I defended.

"What the hell is that supposed to be? It looks like a gibbon with two eyes," Fred sniggered.

"No, it's Harry!" Sam said gleefully. "It says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," George grinned, as Harry turned it upside down to see if the smudge of colors made any more sense that way.

I'd reached my last gift and excitedly ripped into it to find a blue jumper with a yellow 'B' on the front. "Oh, Mrs Weasley!" I cried, picking up the jumper to observe it. I couldn't believe I'd made the cut for one of her jumpers. Shooting to my feet, I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. "Thankyou, I love it!"

"Oh, Bree, that's alright!" she laughed, patting my back. "Family get jumpers, that's how it goes."

I couldn't help the grin that split across my face at her words. It only widened when I saw that Sam and Toby had received jumpers too.

The front door opened from down the hall, and a moment later Bill appeared, his arms loaded up with parcels.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" he cried, bending to kiss his Mother's cheek as we all chanted it back. "I stopped by the house for the mail- I think Murial's sent us all home-made jewelry again."

"I think I prefer the years where she doesn't get us anything," Fred muttered.

"I don't," George replied. "On those years, her rants about how disappointing we all are at least double in frequency."

And that was when Mrs Weasley burst into tears.

George looked horrified. "Oh, I didn't mean it, Mum! Murial's great! A real charmer!"

She shook her head, but couldn't get any words out. That's when I spotted the jumper in her lap with the large P on the front- Percy had sent back his jumper, apparently without a note.

"Oh, Mrs Weasley…" I said sympathetically.

That was when the rest of the Weasley's noticed the jumper. Ginny and Ron both flushed scarlet with anger, as the twins hurried forwards to comfort their mother.

Or at least attempt to.

"Mum, don't worry about Percy," Fred said soothingly. "He's just a huge pile of rat droppings anyway."

She just cried harder. Every single person in the room shot him a glare, and he winced.

"Very sensitive, Fred," Ginny snarled under her breath as Remus and Mom moved to comfort Mrs Weasley.

Dad cleared his throat and stood, shuffling towards us. "Might be best for everyone to skedaddle on upstairs for a little bit," he said, and I nodded, filing towards the exit with everyone else behind me.

We crept through the main room to ensure Mrs Black stayed quiet- but once we were all within the safe confines of the twins room, everyone rounded on Fred. Simultaneously, Ginny and I spun and slapped him on his arms.

'OW! WHAT THE FUCK!' he yelled, grabbing where we'd hit him and gaping at us.

'He's just a huge pile of rat droppings,' I quoted with a glare. 'Are you kidding me?!'

'Well, he fuckin' is!' Fred defended. 'He didn't even send a note back with the jumper!'

'He hasn't asked how Dad is at all,' Ron spoke up. 'Hasn't visited him or anything.'

'Oh, Fred, we all know he's a huge pile of rat droppings-'

'-actually, he's a total asshole, but I thought I should PG my language down for Mum- OW!' another slap followed his mutterings.

I sighed loudly. 'You shouldn't talk about him like that in front of your Mom, that's what the point is. She's obviously really suffering over Percy's actions.'

'Things are hard right now, but once You-Know-Who is out in the open again, Percy will come around,' Sam spoke up. 'And he'll feel like a right idiot for ever doubting any of you.'

Fred flopped down on the bed, followed shortly by his twin. 'Yeah, well, he's gonna have to get down on his hands and knees and beg for my damn forgiveness' he muttered, and George nodded his agreement. I just sighed again, knowing that when Percy did eventually come around, they would welcome him with open arms. Because that's what family does.

It didn't take long for Toby to come upstairs and tell us that it was safe to return to the first floor, and everyone slowly filed out of the room and back down the stairs. I was about to follow when a hand grabbed my arm and stopped me, and I spun around to see George.

He looked nervous all of a sudden, and he eventually nodded down to the jumper Mrs Weasley had made me, which I still had clutched in one of my hands. He cleared his throat and said sheepishly, 'you don't have to wear it. I know that it's sorta lame.'

My gaze softened upon meeting his own shy one. I pushed his hand off of my arm gently and pulled the jumper over my head, grinning up at him once I was done. 'I love it,' I said simply. 'Means I don't have to steal yours anymore, right?'

George was gazing down at me with a gentle smile. 'Is that where my jumpers kept disappearing to?'

I hummed noncommittally before winking at him. 'Come on,' I laughed, taking his hand and pulling him downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone was sitting around the dining room table chatting.

'Fits perfectly, Mrs Weasley,' I said, hugging her quickly where she stood by the stove frying up eggs. She smiled in a watery sort of way and patted my cheek gently, before I joined the rest of the house occupants at the table. Mrs Weasley soon cheered up and the festive spirit returned in full force as we all ate Christmas lunch. Mundungus showed up just in time for Christmas pudding in the muggle car that would be taking us all to St. Mungo's to visit Mr Weasley, which I was very excited about. I missed that man. Also, I'd never seen where Toby worked before, and was quite looking forward to it.

We all hurriedly got dressed out of our pajamas (though I did keep the jumper on, and Sam donned his with a grin) and exited the house, waving to a dejected looking Sirius (though he was trying very hard to hide it). The car had been enlarged by magic to fit the lot of us in very comfortably on the relatively short ride to the hospital, and before I knew it we were all piling out onto an empty back street. Toby led the way up to a disused, dusty old store called Purge & Dowse, Ltd. I assumed it must have been a woman's department store at one point, because all of the chipped, miserable looking mannequins were wearing faded, long haired wigs and modelling fashions that were at least ten years out of date. There were a number of signs around the doors and windows reading 'Closed for Refurbishments.'

Wizards can be so indiscrete. It's a real wonder we've managed to keep ourselves hidden from muggles for so long.

Toby seemed nonplussed, waltzing right up to a dummy wearing a hideous green dress and leaning close to the window. 'It's Toby Montero here with the Weasley clan to visit Arthur,' he said very casually to the mannequin, who nodded before motioning him closer. Toby spun back to me with a grin before taking my hand and pulling me straight through the glass window. A sudden cold washed over me, gone before I'd even really noticed it, and suddenly I was standing in a gorgeously festive reception area. It was a white high-ceilinged room with rows upon rows of (currently mostly empty) wooden waiting chairs. There were beautiful snow-covered Christmas trees in every corner and baubles and tinsel hung from the ceiling.

A bored looking young witch sat at the reception desk flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly. However, she perked up significantly when she saw Toby and I approaching.

'Hello, Healer,' she called with a flirtatious wave, and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Sam, who had just appeared at my side, did not hide his disdain at our brothers continued flirty nature nearly as well as I did.

'Merry Christmas, Deborah,' Toby grinned at her, as my eyes slid to the wall behind the witch. It was covered in notices and posters saying things like 'ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DONTS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER' and 'A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS' which I thought were rather helpful things to advertise. There was a large floor guide beside her desk which directed people where to go for whatever their injury was.

'Well, it certainly is now that you've decided to come visit,' she giggled. 'I thought that you had the day off today?'

'I do, this is a social visit,' Toby said. 'Here to see Arthur Weasley.'

'Yes, and we don't want to keep him waiting,' Sam added, giving Toby a shove away from the desk. 'Lovely to meet you Deborah! Must be off!'

Sam, Harry, and Ron sniggered to themselves as Toby shot Sam a glare. Sam merely rolled his eyes and shoved Toby to walk faster.

Mr Weasley was staying on the first floor in a small room with a singular, small window. When we entered, he was propped up against a stack of pillows in the bed right beside the window. He had the remains of his turkey lunch on his lap and looked rather sheepish as his eyes met our approaching group.

'Mr Weasley!' I cried jovially, wrapping my arms around him in a hug- though a very gentle one, and I stayed far away from his bandages. 'It's so good to see you!'

'And you as well! All of you!' he cried, pecking his wife on the cheek after I had pulled back.

'How are you, Dad?' George asked, and Mr Weasley nodded a little bit too enthusiastically.

'Fine! Yes, very fine! You haven't seen Healer Smethwyck though, have you?'

'No, why? Is something wrong?' Toby asked, stepping forwards and yanking Mr Weasley's chart from the end of the bed, his Healer attitude suddenly out in full force.

'Oh, no! No, Toby, everything's alright,' he assured my brother hurriedly, before turning to the gifts we'd piled on his bed. 'Have you all had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry- this is absolutely wonderful!' he exclaimed, having just opened Harry's gift to find a fuse-wire and some screwdrivers. God bless you, you crazy old man.

Mrs Weasley, however, did not seem as satisfied as Toby did with her husband's assurances. As he leant over to shake Harry's hand, she peered at his bandages under his nightshirt.

'Arthur,' she said sharply, 'you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had them changed a day early? Toby said they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow.'

He looked like he completely deflated at her words. 'Well, now- er- don't be upset Molly,' he interlude to a sentence that would undoubtedly upset her, 'but Augustus Pye had an idea- he's the trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap, and he's very interested in… er… complementary medicine… I mean, some of these old muggle remedies… well, they're called stitches, you see, and they work very well on- on Muggle wounds…'

Mrs Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Toby groaned under his breath and shook his head. Remus hopped up and wandered over to the man lying in the bed closest to Mr Weasley (who had no visitors and was looking at all of us surrounding Mr Weasley rather wistfully), and Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea. Eager to escape before Mrs Weasley learnt what stitches were, I jumped to my feet, as did almost everyone else.

'Do you mean to tell me,' Mrs Weasley began in a distinctly threatening tone, apparently totally unaware that we were all scurrying for cover from her wrath, 'that you have been messing about with muggle remedies?!'

'Not- not messing about, Molly, dear,' Mr Weasley implored weakly. 'It was just- just something that Pye and I thought we'd try- only, most unfortunately- well, with these particular kinds of wounds- it doesn't seem to have worked as well as we'd hoped…'

'Meaning?!'

'Well… well, I don't know whether you know what- what stitches are?'

'It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together,' said Mrs Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, 'but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid-'

'I fancy a cup of tea,' Bill said, jumping to his feet, and we all hurried as quickly as possible to the door without all out running. We'd only just exited and the door was swinging closed behind us when we heard Mrs Weasley shriek 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?!'

'Typical Dad,' Ginny shook her head, 'Stitches… I ask you…'

'God, that trainee Healer is the bane of my existence,' Toby groaned. 'Thinks he has all these brand spankin' new revolutionary ideas.'

'To be fair, they do work well on non-magical wounds,' Hermione spoke up.

'Oh, I'm not questioning muggle medical practices- in fact, I think our hospital would really benefit from using some of them- but putting stitches in a man with a bite from that sort of snake? Any idiot could have told Pye the venom would have dissolved them,' he rambled, taking a sudden turn down a new corridor.

'Where's the tea room, Toby?' Bill asked, and Toby nodded in the direction we were heading.

'Fifth floor- just have to head up the staircase up ahead. Don't talk to the people in the portraits, they'll keep you there rambling for bloody hours about their medical field,' he advised, rolling his eyes. 'And if we escape there without them diagnosing at least one of us with some kind of weird medical problem, it'll be a damn miracle.'

Turns out Toby was not at all exaggerating. The walls of the stairwell were lined with portraits of Healers who had made exceptional leeway in the knowledge of their medical field- and who, apparently, had never seen ginger's before.

'You clearly have a bad case of spattergroit,' one elderly man called out to Ron, who looked seriously affronted. 'A most grievous affliction of the skin, young master… that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now…'

'Oi!' Ron raged, his ears turning red. 'Watch who you're calling gruesome!'

'-the only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked at the full moon in a barrel of eels eyes-'

'I HAVE NOT GOT SPATTERGROIT!'

'Ron,' Toby groaned. 'Please don't encourage them.'

'Spattergroit has clearly caused the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master-'

'THEY'RE FRECKLES! Now get back in your own bloody portrait and stop following me!' Ron cried, stomping to the closest door and exiting the stairwell.

We all filed out behind him, the twins sniggering to themselves.

'You had one job, Ron,' Toby said in exasperation. 'Do not speak to the portraits. They're honestly the worst.'

'Aw, I don't know,' Bill grinned. 'He just seemed like he was trying to help, Ron-'

Ron's ears flushed a darker shade of red as he made a rather rude hand gesture at his brother.

'What floor is this?' Sam interrupted. 'Is it the fifth?'

'Nah, fourth,' Toby answered. 'Spell damage ward- one more to go, just- oh!'

Toby's eyes widened as his gaze fell behind us, and we all turned to see what had surprised him. My jaw dropped open at what I saw.

There was a man peering out at us with his nose pressed against a glass window beside the sign reading 'SPELL DAMAGE.' He had wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and the broadest grin I'd ever seen. I would recognize this man anywhere.

'GILDEROY LOCKHART!' I shrieked.

At my yell, he pushed the door open and waltzed out to greet us, his long lilac dressing grown trailing behind him.

'Well, hello there!' he greeted jovially. 'Expect you'd like my autograph, would you?'

I was literally speechless. My mouth gaped open as I stared at him, star struck.

'Er- how are you, Professor?' Ron asked.

'I'm very well indeed, thank you!' he cried exuberantly as he pulled a peacock feathered quill from his pocket. 'Now, how many autographs would you like?'

'Um, we don't want any at the moment, thanks- OOF! OW!'

I very nearly smacked Ron in the face as my arms flew out wildly to push him away. 'Speak for your goddamn self!' I cried. 'I would love an autograph! And so would my brother-'

'Yes, I would,' Toby cried, jumping forwards. 'We are huge fans, Mr Lockhart-'

'Huge fans,' I nodded.

'Oh, are you now? Well, I don't wonder why,' he laughed jovially, flashing his stunningly white teeth. 'How about we say around a dozen, and you can hand them out to your little friends and then nobody will be left out!'

Toby and I continued nodding excitedly, and from the corner of my eye I saw Sam roll his eyes.

Before he could begin his autographs, an elderly witch poked her head out from the doors he'd emerged from. 'Oh, there you are Gilderoy! And look, you have visitors! Oh, how lovely, and on Christmas Day, too!'

'We're doing autographs!' Lockhart told the Healer with another wide grin. 'They want loads of them! Won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!'

'Oh, listen to him,' the Healer said fondly. 'He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign of his memory coming back-'

And that was when I realized- the Healer trailing after him, his robe, the sort of vague look in his eyes… Gilderoy Lockhart was a patient in the Spell Damage Ward.

'Oh, no,' I lamented. 'What happened to him? How did he lose his memory?'

Ron cleared his throat loudly from beside me, but I paid him no mind. The Healer sighed. 'A backfiring spell,' she said sympathetically. 'Poor thing. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know. He must have slipped out whilst I was bringing the Christmas presents in, the door's usually kept locked. It is nice of you to have come to see him!'

'Er, actually, we were just-' Once again, I elbowed Ron out of the way.

'Of course!' I cried jovially, and she smiled widely before leading Lockhart through the doors. Once she was gone, Sam groaned loudly.

'Oh, come on, Bree-' I reeled around and grabbed his collar, dragging him close to meet his gaze forcefully.

'Do not blow this for me, you pain in the ass,' I growled. 'Now we are gonna go in there and see the greatest author that has ever lived, and you lot are gonna be damn fucking jovial about it!'

With that, I spun and followed the Healer, Toby hot on my heels and the others trailing behind us rather slowly ('she's bloody scary sometimes,' I heard George mutter, but ignored him). We entered to find that she had settled Lockhart in a plush looking armchair by the window.

'This is our long-term residents ward,' she informed us in a low voice. 'For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement.'

This ward bore unmistakable marks of being a permanent home to the residents, with many more personal affects littering the area than a temporary resident like Mr Weasley had. The walls around Lockharts bed were all papered with pictures of himself, all of them grinning and waving at us. Toby returned the gesture enthusiastically.

Lockhart had already pulled a fresh stack of photographs towards him and was beginning to sign them all enthusiastically.

'You can put them in envelopes,' he said to Ginny, throwing signed photographs in her lap as he finished them. 'I am not forgotten, you know, I still receive a great deal of fan mail. Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly! I just wish I knew why…' he paused slightly, and my heart sunk slightly at his sad words. He perked back up in a second though. 'I suspect it is simply my good looks!'

I couldn't help but giggle as I moved to take the photographs from Ginny's lap to put in the envelopes beside her. The Healer moved away from us then, saying something to a man named Broderick about how he'd received a lovely pot-plant for Christmas. Honestly, everything was a blur except for the fact that Gilderoy bloody Lockhart was within my presence.

Eventually, after not nearly enough time in my opinion, we had to leave him. We'd need to return to Grimmauld Place soon enough. Lockhart enthusiastically waved us off, and Toby and I returned the wave so excitedly we nearly dropped the signed photographs weighing down our arms.

As soon as we were out of his presence, I spun around to the rest of the group and squealed loudly, practically jumping up and down.

"GILDEROY LOCKHART! WE JUST MET GILDEROY LOCKHART!"

"Oh my God, he was literally so much more than I ever dreamed," Toby cried, the biggest grin I'd ever seen on his face. "He was so inspiring. But what a complete tragedy… a backfiring spell… oh, the poor man…"

Ron coughed violently, and we both turned to him in concern. "Woah, you sure you don't have Spattergroit, Ronald? You sound gross as hell," I commented, and he flushed.

"Let's just go," he muttered, turning back towards the staircase.

Shrugging, I trailed behind him, careful not to drop any of my photographs. "Guess that explains why he hasn't written a book in so long," I sighed dejectedly.

Toby gasped. "Oh my God! What if he lost his memory before he saved his lover from the coven of vampires?! What if she's still there?!"

This thought would bother me for months to come.

The days disappeared at a ridiculous pace after Christmas was over. The Christmas decorations came down, and Arthur finally left the hospital. Apart from that, we all tried to muster the usual enthusiasm going back to school brought us, but we were failing miserably. With Umbridge running the place into the ground and the NEWT's creeping up on us… well, there was pretty much no bright side to returning to Hogwarts at this point.

"Well frankly I'm looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet," Toby piped up cheerily during one of our lazier days. My brothers and I were sitting around the kitchen table, Sam and I trying to complete the homework we'd left until the last minute. "You lot are annoying. I get so much more done without you around."

"Yeah?" Sam asked sarcastically, his eyes not leaving the textbook propped up in front of him. "That why you haven't been to work in two weeks?"

"I'm taking a mental health holiday," Toby commented, idly flipping a page in the book he was reading. "Let me tell ya, that place can really drain you. A woman vomited on my feet the other week. Like, what the fuck?"

"What?! What was the doing in the hospital?! It's not like you're paid to deal with sick people or anything!" Sam cried in fake outrage, but Toby didn't seem to pick up on it.

"I know, right? So rude. It's like, aim slightly to the left. So gross."

"If you two are gonna talk can you at least say something useful occasionally?" I groaned, looking up from my potions essay. "Toby, what's a use for asphodel? I've got the Drought of Living Death, but I know there's another major one."

"Wiggenweld Potion," he replied lazily, and I groaned loudly.

"I knew it had a weird name!" I cried. "What's it do? It heals, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it can also wake someone up from a magically induced sleep. Fun fact: that was what Prince Phillip used to wake up Princess Aurora. Ya know, before the Muggle's butchered the story. Throw that in, Professor's love it."

"Snape is our teacher," I reminded him, and Toby frowned.

"Ah. Don't bother then. He doesn't like anything," he said, flopping back lazily in his chair and picking his book back up. At that moment, the door to the kitchen opened, and Dad entered.

"MAIL TIME!" he sang as he entered the kitchen, coming over to us. "One for you, Bree… one for you, Sam… oooooh, Toby! Three for you! Aren't you popular!" he said, handing the letters out. Toby rolled his eyes, but I had stopped paying attention by that point.

"IT'S FROM CALLIE!" I screeched.

"IT'S FROM HANNAH!" Sam cried in much the same tone, as we both excitedly ripped into our envelopes.

"Mine's from the hospital. What the fuck? How boring," Toby muttered, throwing the letters to the side and picking his book back up. "No thanks."

Ignoring him, Sam grinned widely. "Oh, Hannah is so lovely. She said that she had a fantastic time on our date the other week. That's a good sign, right? Bree? Hey, Bree? You in there, Breezy?"

Truthfully, I barely heard my brother calling me. Usually I'd be all over his love life, but what I'd found in my letter had shocked me to my very core.

Bree,

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written, but all of our letters are being intercepted at the school. Things are really bad here- almost half of the staff have been replaced with some really shady characters. We're not just learning the theories behind dark magic anymore; we're actually performing it. James flat out refused to perform the cruciatus curse on a second year student, so the teacher did it to him. She said it was a 'good demonstration,' and then thanked him for volunteering.

Zira is acting crazier than she ever has before. The other night I overheard her and one of the new teachers talking about Karkaroff, they said that they were 'hunting him down for his betrayal.' Then they said that the Dark Lord can't come to America yet, because he still has things to deal with in Europe. She's a Death Eater, Bree, they all are, and they're trying to turn us into their new recruits after what happened in the third task. I'm scared, Bree, I'm so scared and I don't know what to do. Please don't reply to this, by the time you do I'll be back at school and she'll read it.

I love you; we'll write again when it's safe.

-Cal

"Bree? Hey, Bree!"

I looked up, and only realized as I did that there were tears in my eyes. Toby was kneeling beside me, looking afraid. "Bree, what is it? What's wrong?"

I didn't say a word; I just held the letter out, and he took it. Sam and Dad leant over his shoulders to read along with him, and I knew the moment they'd finished.

Toby slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it!" he cursed. "I can't believe this!"

"We always knew Zira was shady, but I never thought that she was…" Sam trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. We all knew.

"I need to call an Order meeting," Dad finally spoke up, his eyes still on the letter he'd just picked up. "We feared that his influence would spread to other countries, but we didn't think that it would happen to soon."

"We're going to have to go to America- help Aunt Sasha find more potential Order members," Toby said, and Dad nodded.

"Yes, we'll have to be more proactive. Thankfully we already have a place to start- I can think off the top of my head some people who won't hesitate to join the fight."

I listened, but I couldn't speak. The idea of my friends in that sort of environment- of friendly, unassuming James having the cruciatus curse put on him- it made me feel physically unwell.

Toby seemed to read my thoughts. As Dad left the kitchen to send out word for an emergency Order meeting, he dropped back to his knees beside me and took my shoulders in his hands.

"Bree, they're going to be alright," he said firmly. "I know your friends, yeah? They're strong; some of the strongest people I've ever met. This is not going to break them."

I looked up and met his gaze, seeing how confident he was in his words.

"They're all smart, Bree. And Zira can't do any worse to them; not yet, whilst You-Know-Who is still staying under the radar," Sam said, his hand coming up to rub my back.

Toby nodded slowly. "Things are tough right now, but they'll get better. They have to."

Again, I didn't speak. Instead, I wrapped my arms around Toby's shoulders and curled up against his chest, feeling Sam wrap his arms around my back a second later. I didn't speak, because I knew that things would get better. But I also knew that they would get a hell of a lot worse before that point.