Hello everyone! I cannot apologize enough for how long you all have been waiting for an update. There really is no excuse except for life simply happening and I lost track of everything. But several moves, a handful of jobs, and a pandemic later, I am back with an update! This particular chapter is simply fluff, and I'm sorry my returning chapter was nothing significant, but I wanted to get something out for you as soon as I could. I truly hope everyone who has been waiting for an update can forgive me for being away so long ; v; I'm going to do my best to update as frequently as possible from now on! Anyway... I hope ye enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Mads does not claim the canon characters or story as her own, just her wee little OCs. She just really loves the magic.

The last few weeks spent at the Burrow, Harlow thought of nothing but what had happened at the World Cup. She had trouble eating, socializing, and sleeping. She was afraid to have the nightmare again and she hadn't told anyone why she had been so shaken up. Molly tried her best to cheer the girl up, cooking her favorite foods and trying overall to get her out of bed. But nothing seemed to work. She sat in her makeshift bed in Ginny's room, staring blankly out the window, wondering what it all meant.

Arthur had explained to them that it had been the Dark Mark. All but Harry understood that it had been You-Know-Who's mark and that it usually meant that his Death Eaters had killed innocent people. From what she understood, however, was no one had been killed that night, which was the only solace she had gained from that night's events. Why had she dreamt about it though? Had she had some sort of vision? Was she turning into some sort of fortune teller, like Professor Trelawney? She cringed at the thought of being as mad as that old bat, who seemed to relish in predicting her students to die in horrific ways - especially Harry. She hoped that whatever it was, it would never happen again.

The morning before they were due back on the Hogwarts Express, Fred and George barged in and hauled Harlow to her feet without much warning.

"What in the world are you two doing?" she demanded as they forced her out of the room.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself," George said.

"So, we're gonna make sure you do," Fred added, examining her head. "You haven't even brushed your hair!"

They lead her down the hall to the bathroom and locked the door behind them. Harlow stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the tub. When she gained her barings, she turned and saw the twins donning blindfolds.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We aren't leaving until you've showered," they said, each taking a step in front of the door and blocking it completely.

"This could easily go wrong for you with those blindfolds on," she told them, crossing her arms.

"Not likely," Fred said.

Harlow went to push them aside. After all, this was ridiculous. She could easily shower in the morning before they left. She didn't need them to tell her what to do. She could take care of herself. Fred's hand caught her wrist before she could touch him. She jerked her head up. He had lifted his blindfold, a hazel eye peering down at her, pleading with her. He squeezed her wrist. "Please," he mouth silently.

It was almost as if his words brought her back to her body. All at once she could feel the sweat and dirt she had accumulated over the following weeks coating her skin like a sticky mask. She could feel the weight of the awful knots of hair against her neck and the uncomfortable pricks of body hair against the legs of her pajama bottoms, and she certainly didn't dare raise her arms any higher than her chest. Maybe she could go for a shower... A long one. Harlow bit her lip, and finally nodded her head in response to Fred's pleading. A wide, relieved grin spread across his face and he yanked the blindfold back over his eyes, turning on his heel to face the door, accidentally smacking George clumsily on the chin for him to do the same. When she was sure the two of them wouldn't try to be cheeky, Harlow reached for the faucet and turned the water on as hot as she could stand, quickly undressing and climbing into the tub.

It felt like night and day as Harlow scrubbed away the grime, running her fingers through her tangled mess of dark red curls and taking a razor to any place that needed it. She scrubbed and lathered and rinsed until she felt she had done enough. Now that she was here, she didn't want to leave. Plumes of warm steam flooded over the shower curtains. Harlow stood under the stream, combing through her hair, her mind far from the events of the World Cup for the first time in weeks. Perhaps this really was exactly what she needed. Maybe she could relax and get some rest before they left for Hogwarts the following day. Even if she didn't, she thought, Fred and George made excellent pillows... she was sure they wouldn't mind her head resting on either of them for an hour or two. Then again, sleeping like that was terrible for her neck. Maybe Molly could send her off with some coffee...

"Oi, Harley. You mind hurrying up over there? We're starting to develop gills with how thick this steam is."

George's voice removed Harlow from her thoughts. A violent shiver traveled through her body and she realized she had let the water run cold. "R-right, sorry..." Blushing, the girl hastily moved to shut the water off.

"Here," Fred tossed a shower over the curtain rod to her. "We'll step outside. Give you a bit of privacy, eh?"

Harlow heard the door open and then shut and suddenly, she was alone. She peered out behind the curtain just to be safe. The door was shut tight, the steam lazily swirling around where the twins had been standing. Harlow took her time drying off, reveling in the feeling of being freshly showered. It was a feeling she had taken advantage of in the past. I know I'm never letting this happen again. How embarrassing...

"Oh."

Her dirty clothes that she had tossed onto the floor were gone, replaced by freshly laundered clothes, folded so neatly she was sure it was Molly's doing. A pang stabbed through her chest. Mrs. Weasley must be worried sick about her - perhaps everyone else as well. She was positive Lysander would also be in the know about her mental state. She anticipated a few letters in the coming months about it from him. There was simply no avoiding it. Sighing, Harlow dressed in the provided jeans and graphic tee and yanked a brush through her hair, ripping at the knots and tangles with sharp breaths and whimpers of pain. When her battle with the brush was done and won, she approached the sink to brush her teeth. She cleared the mirror of fog, catching a glimpse of herself for the first time since the World Cup. Her skin appeared pale, almost translucent, and her face was definitely thinner; most notably were the dark circles and bags under her eyes, giving her face a sunken, dead feeling. Seeing herself this way brought forth the exhaustion she was too dazed to feel. Her shoulders sagged under the weight and she leaned against the sink for support. "God, I'm such a mess," she muttered to herself, running shaking fingers through her hair.

A light rapping at the door jolted the girl upright with a gasp. "Harley?"

"Y-yes," she croaked. Harlow cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm coming."

"Fred? George? What are you doing just standing outside of the bathroom like that?"

"Move along, Ginny. There's nothing to see here."

"Yeah, this is on a Need-To-Know basis."

"Are you sure you even know what that means?"

"We know what it means-"

"-Because we need to know it."

"... Unbelievable."

Harlow opened the door in time to see Ginny retreating down the hallway towards her bedroom. Fred and George stood on either side of the bathroom door, hands clasped firmly behind their backs, eyes straight ahead. Harlow quirked a dark red brow at them. "So, are you both my security now? Do I need to be escorted?"

Their stoic faces broke into identical grins, shattering the characters they were trying to play. They turned to her. "You feel better then?" Fred asked.

"Loads," she nodded, once again running her fingers through her now clean hair. Harlow brushed by them towards their room, the twins following close behind. "Sorry to have you both so worried. I wasn't feeling like myself."

"There's the understatement of a century," George scoffed playfully. "You were practically a zombie, sitting in Ginny's room just staring out the window like that." To demonstrate, his jaw went slack and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. He reached out a curled hand and let out a strained moan like a zombie.

Fred whacked his brother upside the head, chuckling. "Point is, we're happy you're at least feeling the slightest bit normal."

"Not sure if 'normal' is the right term," Harlow plopped down onto Fred's bed. She felt... light. Like she was floating. Her head still felt overcast with gray swirling clouds. Every once in a while, those clouds were lit up with brilliant flashes of mysterious green light... "Definitely cleaner though."

"It's a start," the twins shrugged in unison.

Harlow fell back onto the mattress with a stretch, the exhaustion she felt just moments ago now pressing on her with its full weight. "So," she yawned. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Mum wanted us to degnome the garden again," Fred rolled his eyes, but Harlow could tell he wasn't all opposed to the idea. The Burrow had been oddly quiet since everyone returned from the World Cup, so degnoming was something remotely entertaining they could do.

"Turns out we didn't do quite the bang up job as we thought."

"Mmm..." Harlow's eyes grew heavy. She gave a yawn. It wouldn't hurt to close them while they discussed today's plans. She let them drift shut, resting her arm under her head.

"Then there's the matter of packing the rest of our trunks,"George's voice dropped as he spoke next, "We have to make sure we get all of our products out of the Burrow so Mum doesn't find it while we're away at Hogwarts."

"Merlin knows that woman will tear this room apart looking for them," Fred nodded.

"Gotta make it look like we got rid of it all like she wanted us to."

"Which shouldn't be a problem-"

"-Especially if we have you to help us out, right Harley?"

"Harley?"

"Bloody hell..."

Harlow was fast asleep, curled up with Fred's pillow held close to her chest. Fred sighed, shaking his head. "Let her sleep. She's been through enough lately."

"Let's hope we can get everything together without her help, otherwise we'll have a Howler with our names written all over it coming our way."

"And a Chinese Fireball of a mother waiting for us at home."

George groaned, falling back onto his own bed. "Blimey, what a mess this has been."

Fred nodded his head in silent agreement, watching Harlow sleeping peacefully in his bed.

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