READ THIS: I think I'm going to make a youtube playlist of all these songs. If any songs remind you of Blayne and Fred and this story, let me know and I'll add them!)

Happy New Year! With love xx

"Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane

I walked across an empty land/I knew the pathway like the back of my hand/I felt the earth beneath my feet/Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing where have you gone?/I'm getting old and I need something to rely on/So tell me when you're gonna let me in/I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree/I felt the branches of it looking at me/Is this the place we used to love?/Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?/I'm getting old and I need something to rely on/So tell me when you're gonna let me in/I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go/Talk about it somewhere only we know?/This could be the end of everything/So why don't we go/Somewhere only we know?/Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?/I'm getting old and I need something to rely on/So tell me when you're gonna let me in/I'm getting tired and I need somewhere

to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go/Talk about it somewhere only we know?/This could be the end of everything/So why don't we go?/So why don't we go?

Ah-ah-ah/Ah-ah-ah

This could be the end of everything/So why don't we go/Somewhere only we know?/Somewhere only we know?/Somewhere only we know?

I was in a field.

I laid on my back, staring at the shapes in the clouds. The grass was too soft to be realistic, and I vaguely wondered if everything in Paradise was too perfect. The sun warmed my skin to a temperature that was just shy of too hot. A light breeze danced over my sensitive skin and I smiled serenely.

"Mummy!"

A tinkling voice danced over the wind. A giggle followed, and the grass swayed with the crunch of uneven footsteps. A deeper voice entwined easily with the musical twinkling of the child's voice. My smile widened and I opened my arms wider for the thump that I knew was coming.

"Mummy! Found Mummy!"

My breath whooshed out as a tiny little figure dumped himself on my chest. I squeezed my arms around the miniature shape and dropped a kiss on the forehead of my perfect everything.

"You did, my cheeky monkey!" The other voice sent a shiver up my spine. He sat down gracefully, one hand ruffling the bright shock of red hair atop the small shape on my chest and the other winding around my own hand that rested on the grass beside me. I looked over at the man who had stolen my world. He wore worn blue jeans and a wife beater, and he looked exactly the same as the last time I had seen him, cheeky grin and all. Looking down at his spitting image, I thought distantly that nobody could ever contest our son's parentage. Our baby looked exactly like his father, right down to the devilish smirk.

And then he was up, and gone. The weight on my chest disappeared as the little redhead sprinted through the grass, or sprinted as best as a two-year-old could. We watched as he hobbled along, knowing he couldn't get far, and I sat up to watch him play with a butterfly.

"Blayne," my lover whispered near my ear. "Blayne." This time was more insistent. "Blayne!" He was worried now, panicking, and the sun dipped low and turned an ugly, grey color.

The voice was gone, an echo on the wind. The body beside mine was no longer there, no comfort to be found in the emptiness that was left. "Fred?" I jolted up, away, and clutched helplessly at nothing. Who was watching the baby?

I was standing now. The grass rolled and wretched underneath me, and the winds whipped up around me. I couldn't see the telltale orange hair, couldn't see anything really. My heart hammered beneath my chest, a warning tune. Where was my son? "Baby!" I cried, arms outstretched for my little angel. Where had he gone? He was here just a moment ago. I whirled around. I cried out for him, alone, desperate. He couldn't be gone. I had to find him.

The ground opened and I was falling, dropping through space. Everything went black, and I welcomed the quiet.

Voices were sliding through my brain, too slippery to hold onto for more than a few seconds. They spoke too fast, too quiet, then too loud. I couldn't concentrate. It was important, I knew. I had to hold on just long enough to understand. If I listened to it, maybe I would be able to shake the blackness. The voices were important. Important...

"Wake up!"

Up. I could wake up. I had to wake up. Where was up?

"Blunt-forced… to the back of the head… should wake up shortly…"

"No internal bleeding…"

Bleeding. That was bad, right? But the voice had said no, so that was good, or was it the other way around? Wake up. I have to.

"Please honey. I need you to… your father and I… so worried…"

Worried. Please. Wake up!

The blackness was suffocating. If I could just open my eyes, just fight back the darkness for one second to let them all know that I was okay…

"Sirius didn't make it… Tonks… two daughters at Mungo's… poor parents…"

"Healer… why isn't she waking up?... what's wrong?... Help her!"

Wrong… help… Help me fight the darkness, please…

"I love you. I'm so sorry. Please, wake up Blayne. For your parents. For me."

Love. I love you too…

"George… We miss you… few hours… feels like days… came right over… never seen you so quiet… too soon for jokes?"

George. Love you. Wake up!

I was too tired. I couldn't fight the darkness. Maybe if I just rested for a little longer, then I'd be okay. Then I'd be strong enough.

I finally did get enough strength to fight my way through the blackness. When I woke up, I was in St. Mungo's, in a white hospital bed with white sheets surrounded by white walls. My dad had been there when I had first woken up, and he had shouted for my mum, and she had shouted for everyone else.

The healers said I was out for a little longer than I should have been. They said it was probably the medicine. Some bodies take the potions differently. Distantly, I blamed it on the drinking and destruction I had wrecked on my body just months earlier.

I had really only been out of it for about twelve hours, counting the time spent in the Department of Mysteries. Twelve hours, and the whole world was freaking out.

I had to spend another twelve in the white bed with the white sheets in the white room until the healers would let me go home. It was during those twelve hours that I heard the story of what had happened while I was out of it. It had been Bellatrix who had hit me with the spell, and after that, Neville and Harry had dueled their way out of a pretty balling fight. The aurors had shown up, my sister among them, and ultimately, Harry had been possessed by Voldemort and the good guys had just barely scraped by a win.

With one casualty.

Sirius had been lost. I vaguely remembered hearing something about that when I was asleep, but the memories were too slippery to hold on to. They said Harry was a mess, torn apart by the loss of his only remaining family, and I couldn't imagine the pain he was going through. It was bad enough for me, and I was just a distant cousin who had loved a pitied, broken man.

Tonks was in another white hospital bed. She had been badly injured, and I knew that the second they let me out of bed, that's where I was headed. But she was going to be okay, along with all of my friends who I had fought side-by-side with in the dark bowels of the Ministry. Sirius, on the other hand, was not.

Fred and George had been there when I was told. Mum and Dad had gone to see Tonks, and the twins where the ones who told me everything. They were there when I broke down, when I cried for who Sirius had been, for the man that Sirius never had a chance to become. They held me when I shed tears over the night when I had put Sirius to bed, when he had been drunk and broken and a shell of who he should have been, when he had called me my mother's name.

I cried for who Sirius was. I cried for his love for Harry, for his care of Buckbeak, for his hatred of his family. I cried over his wasted years in Azkaban and his destruction at the hands of our demented justice system. I cried because he was just starting to set his life right, and he was just starting to have the life he deserved, and it had all been ripped away from him before he had had a chance to live it. Never again would he have another drunk night alone in his room. Never again would I laugh at his demented jokes, and never again would I shake my head when he yelled at his mother's portrait. Never again would I hug him goodbye and tell my cousin to be safe.

The war had started, and I cried for the loss of innocence. Sirius was the first. How many more would follow? Who would be next- my mother, my father, my sister, George, Fred, Harry, Ginny? Me?

Fred and George had gotten into bed with me and held me as I, for lack of a better word, hyperventilated over Sirius and Tonks and the reality of the war. And after being yelled at by a healer, they sat by the bed instead, and each held one of my hands as they recounted how they heard what had happened and had apparated straight over. I smiled at that, imagining them freaking out and yelling at people, demanding they do something they couldn't, demanding they do anything, to help me. And I dimly knew that Fred had been more insistent, more crazed, and a niggling part of my brain was demanding me to remember something that I had heard in my sleep. Try as I might, I could not grasp what I was supposed to remember.

The twins told me how the Minister "confessed" that Voldemort was, in fact, back, and the three of us rolled our eyes so hard I thought they might pop out of our heads. Lupin came in later, after he had dealt with the Ministry and the Order and Harry and all things business and hell and sorrow, and I realized with a jolt that he was the only one left. His best friend, his last best friend, had just been obliterated in front of his eyes. Said eyes were red-rimmed, and not like Sirius' had been, from drinking. Lupin looked utterly destroyed.

He asked how I was, and I thought that I should be asking him that question instead. But he was Lupin, and he would always ask how others were and deflect questions of his own wellbeing. I answered fine and he immediately jumped to asking me about my sister. He looked visibly worried, and as he left to find her, I smiled a little. I was really rooting for those two. I hoped she would look after him right now. He needed her. If there was one thing I knew about my sister, it was that she always knew what to say to comfort someone. She was good at being needed.

George left in the afternoon to check on the shop, but Fred refused to leave me. There was something pulling at the back of my brain, something that his red hair reminded me of, but I couldn't grasp it. Annoyed, I fell asleep holding his hand and feeling a disturbing sense of déjà vu.

When I woke up, the healers and my mum and dad told me that I was being discharged. I got dressed, mindful of my head which still slightly throbbed, and signed the necessary paperwork before walking up the stairs to see my sister. Fred, though reluctant, was forced to leave because I wasn't a patient anymore and he had no ties to Nymphadora.

I found my sister sitting in bed, tapping her foot impatiently, and sulking at her healer. "I don't care. I feel fine. I want to be let go now, thank you." She was insistent. Her arms were folded over her chest, her hair was back to bright bubblegum pink, and she scowled as the healer said something back to her. "Bloody hell, I'm an auror! I can take care of myself, thank you! I'm going bloody insane sitting here. I'm absolutely fine!"

Her healer gave an impatient gurgle and I laughed. Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the room and smiled. That was Tonks, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. "Oi, sis, give the man a break will you? He's just trying to help!" I hopped over to her bed to kiss her cheek and grab her hand. She scowled at me next.

"Not bloody likely. He's trying to keep me here! I'm going crazy, B! Help me convince this old bint that I'm well enough to go home."

"I think you should stay here just a little while longer, love," I said uneasily, watching a patch of red bloom under the white sheet right where her thigh should be. "Just for a little. Please. It would make me feel better."

With a heavy sigh, she flung herself back on the sheets and folded her arms across her chest. Moodily, she muttered, "Fine. But you'd better bring me some toffee and something to occupy myself with, or I'll stick my wand clean where it doesn't belong. And for the love of Merlin, I swear I'm only staying two more days at the most!"

I rolled my eyes and sat down next to her, looking out of the side of my eye at the healer who was putting something in a potion mix attached to Tonks' arm. "If nothing else, it will make your dashing wolf come 'round more often, won't it?" I couldn't help laughing at the look she gave me. It was pure evil… with a little bit of hidden realization and secret joy. "Oh come off it. I've seen the way you look at him."

"Well, how can I help it?" Her eyelids were drooping and her arms fell heavy to her sides. Her head lolled to the side as I looked on, and I bit back a giggle. If there was ever anybody who would hate to look as helpless as she did right then, it was Tonks. "He's just so sexy. I mean, he's got the whole rugged, dangerous supernatural devil thing going on, and on top of it, at heart he's just a big fluff ball of cuddles and… and… cuddles and kissesss-"

Her words slurred, and her eyes closed, and I let out a little chuckle. What would I ever do without her?

I got up to kiss her on the forehead once more and then left the room, smiling at the healer on my way out. He certainly had his hands full in this room.

I found Mum and Dad holding my bags on the bottom floor, finishing up some paperwork, though there admittedly wasn't much because I was of legal age and, therefore, responsible for myself. "Ah there you are darling. Everything alright upstairs?" Mum came round to hold onto my arm and lead me through the front door.

I shrugged. "Well, Tonks is being… Tonks. I've convinced her to stay here, though. I think I'll go home and take a little nap, and then I'll pop round to WWW and Honeydukes. The boys are probably itching to see me standing again, and Tonks has just threatened me with bodily harm if I don't bring her entertainment." Mum just sighed, and Dad chuckled quietly.

"That's my girl," he muttered. I laughed and nudged him with my shoulder.

I woke up from my nap (and some disturbing dreams, which, if I was honest with myself, had a serious sense of déjà vu to them) feeling slightly less annoyed and slightly more achy. Rolling over, I groaned as something poked into my hipbone. After fishing through the pockets of my robes, I opened a bleary eye to find a little glass ball in my hand. I sat up with a jolt.

I blinked the sleep from my eyes. My mind was suddenly very conscious, though my body was still laden with sleep. My prophecy. Bloody hell.

Fear rose in my throat, dark and suffocating. What if my fate was to die before I had ever really lived? What if I could never have children? And suddenly I remembered the little redheaded boy from my dream. What would I do if he would never become my reality?

But if that was so, I wanted to know now. I didn't want to spend years pining for something I couldn't have, and I didn't want to waste energy on a lie. And if I was to die, well… at least I would know that I had to make these years last. I made a promise to myself then that I wouldn't tell anybody else. As hard as it was, and as scared as I might be, I could never tell anyone what my prophecy was. My friends and family didn't need the added worry, didn't need to live their lives knowing what I was battling. We each had our own fights, and I would not let mine become theirs. Not even if it meant saving myself.

My heart was beating so fast I could hear the thrumming in my ears like a drum set. My palms slicked, and I swallowed heavily. Momentarily, I thought about just throwing the little ball out the window. No, I needed to know. I would spend my whole life wondering what if, if I didn't listen. And so I checked the locks and the soundproof spells on my room, and I clenched my fist and squeezed my eyes shut. With a last prayer to whatever diety was listening, I threw the little glass ball of dark obscurity on the floor as hard as I could.

A voice, wispy and high-pitched like a faery's, floated upwards from the shattered glass and smoke. I held my breath and listened carefully, listened so intently it was like, well, my life was dependent on it. Which I supposed it kind of was.

"When chaos comes, she shall be steadfast,

When he is defeated, she shall rise.

Her earthly name foretells her destiny,

A child unborn and a trothed in battle,

The trio joined thrice and thrice a hero."

Well that was… that was much more obscure than I was expecting. But then again, it was my bloody destiny, and it was a bloody magic ball like the ones that stupid Trelawney bint used, so I was stupid for thinking it would ever be straightforward. Before I forgot even a word of it, and with a frustrated noise in the back of my throat, I wrote down the whole thing. And then I stared at it.

For what felt like hours.

Because really, what the hell did it mean? At least it wasn't saying that I was going to die tomorrow. That was a plus, right? But a "baby unborn" or whatever... I sat down on my bed, checked what I had wrote and no, whoops, it was "child unborn" but same difference. But did that mean that I was never going to see my beautiful baby? Was the prophecy saying, in uncertain and annoyingly vague terms, that the child would die before I gave birth? Would I die before giving birth?

And then, the whole thing about my name. Did that have something to do with my stupid mythical first name, Andromache, or was it the name I called myself, Blayne? Was it my last name? And then, who was "he" anyways? Who was going to be defeated? Voldemort? Harry? How was I supposed to rise, either? Like a phoenix, or some shit? And what was a "trothed"? For the love of God, what in Merlin's name was the whole "thrice this, thrice that" hocus-pocus about?

Well, I thought sardonically, it's not like I could tell anybody about it even if I wanted to. Nobody would know what it meant.

With a frustrated growl, I pitched back into bed and shoved my fists into my eyes. "Bloody magical world. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?"

PLOT CLEARUP- Blayne isn't going back to school like the rest of the kids in the end of the 5th book because she "was practically done anyways" (or so her dad had said, posturing and being defensive when anybody asked). Her parents were more worried about her being in pain/all the drama that happened/Tonks in the hospital and all that than if Blayne finished the last useless days.

Cheers!