Winona squeezed Harry until he began to squirm, and kept going even then. Mr Weasley laughed from behind them, but Winona didn't care.

"You're cleared!" Winona said again, for at least the fifth time, as if the more she said it, the more real it became. "You get to come back to Hogwarts!"

"Winnie," Harry laughed through a groan, finally wriggling out of her hold and grinning at her. He looked so much lighter – like a weight had been lifted on his wiry shoulders.

The door to the courtroom opened again, and this time all the plum-coloured Wizengamot members flowed out. Some greeted Mr Weasley, some stared unabashedly at Harry, and one stopped in front of Winona.

"Miss Black," he said, tall and foreboding, with inky black hair and eyes like a crow's, he looked like death personified. All he needed was a giant scythe and it would complete the ensemble. "I've heard great things," he told her, holding out a hand to shake.

"I highly doubt that," she replied cheerfully, shaking his hand briefly before stuffing her own back into her pockets.

The man smiled like she'd made a joke. "Yes – well, we'll see, won't we?"

She wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but before she could figure it out he turned away, catching up with a pair of witches making their way out of the chamber, smoothly inserting himself in the conversation.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Mr Weasley as the whole Wizengamot filtered past. "You were tried by the full court?"

Harry frowned like that had only just occurred to him. "I think so."

Cornelius Fudge and a toad-faced witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though he couldn't even see them – as if they did not exist – but the toad-faced witch eyed Winona and Harry, ideas swimming in her swampy eyes that Winona knew she wanted nothing to do with.

Suppressing what had to be her hundredth rude hand gesture of the day, Winona turned away dismissively. Unfortunately it gave her a front-row seat to an awkward interaction between Percy and his father. Mr Weasley scowled at nothing and pretended his son wasn't even there.

Winona didn't particularly like Percy, but the fact of the matter was that he was still a Weasley. He was part of the family that meant everything to her. It hurt to see him write them off because he was too proud to admit when he was wrong; because he hungered power over loyalty. Some Gryffindor.

"I'm going to take the two of you straight back, so you can tell the others the good news," Mr Weasley said once Percy had disappeared up the steps to Level Nine and the room filled with oxygen once again. "I'll drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green."

"So, what will you have to do about the toilet?" Harry wondered, grinning widely. The weight of the trial had been a big one, and with it gone, Winona half expected him to float straight up into the stratosphere.

"Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx," Mr Weasley began conversationally as they made their way back up a level, "but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one-"

Mr Weasley stopped talking abruptly, and Winona had to turn to see what was wrong. Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking in low, suspicious tones to a tall man with white-blond hair and a pointed, pale face.

Lucius Malfoy heard them approach, and he cut off whatever he'd been saying, turning to stare at them like they were something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. "Well, well, well… Patronus Potter," he sneered derisively.

Winona felt Harry stop breathing from beside her, and it only took her a moment to put the pieces together. Malfoy had been one of the Death Eaters in the graveyard that fateful night last term. She could only imagine the flashbacks Harry was struggling against. She shifted in front of her cousin, eyes narrowed into slits, one hand curled around her wand, unafraid to use it.

But then Malfoy's steely eyes flickered to her, and she found herself sick at the expression he wore. Hunger and victory and maybe even a hint of delight. Like he'd just come to the end of an elaborate scavenger hunt, and she was the prize. Her insides turned to lead, but she stared back at him, unblinking.

Then Malfoy looked away, back at Harry, and Winona realised she'd stopped breathing entirely. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she curled and uncurled her fingers around the sturdy wood of her wand, a thousand nasty curses on her tongue, desperate to be cast.

"The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter," drawled Malfoy. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes… Snakelike, in fact…"

"Yeah," said Harry flatly, "yeah, I'm good at escaping."

Malfoy's lips twitched into a grimace that he hid by looking up at Mr Weasley. "And Arthur Weasley, too! What are you doing here, Arthur?"

"I work here," said Mr Weasley curtly.

"Not here, surely?" said Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr Weasley's shoulder. "I thought you were up on the second floor… Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them?"

Mr Weasley didn't so much as flinch. "No."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked Malfoy, an accusation in the words. If Winona didn't feel so cold inside, she might have laughed.

"I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter," said Malfoy sharply. "Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us… Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?"

"Certainly," said Fudge, turning his back on Harry, Winona and Mr Weasley. "This way, Lucius."

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Winona didn't miss the way Malfoy glanced back at her, eyes glinting like a vulture watching its prey from afar, considering how to attack. Winona suddenly felt far too exposed, out here in the open, where anybody could get to her.

Harry seemed oblivious to her spiralling panic. "Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?" he asked furiously. "What was he doing down here?"

"Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me," said Mr Weasley, a frown deepening the laugh lines on his again face. "Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. Winona, I trust you can inform Dumbledore that Fudge and Malfoy were-?"

"I'm all over it," she assured him, but her voice was faint even to her own ears.

Harry was scowling at his feet, and just like that the weight of the world was back balancing on his shoulders. "What private business have they got together, anyway?" he wondered grumpily.

Mr Weasley sighed. "Gold, I expect. Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years… Gets him in with the right people … then he can ask favours … delay laws he doesn't want passed… Oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy…"

They all stepped onto an empty lift, and Winona kept her fingers curled around her wand. She would be ready if an attack came. She would be okay. "Mr Weasley," said Harry slowly, "if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?"

"Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry," said Mr Weasley quietly. "But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment – which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort… But best not talk about it any more just now, Harry."

They made their way back up to Muggle London, Harry so relieved about the trial that he was grinning like a madman, and Winona so relieved to see him happy that she let down her guard, chatting to him and Mr Weasley easily about how, exactly, someone dealt with a regurgitating toilet – and that was when all hell broke loose.

They were in the alley where the visitor's entrance to the Ministry let them back out onto the London street, Harry and Winona shuffling out of the telephone-box while Mr Weasley was stuck squished against the back. Harry was halfway through asking if they could stop at the nearby bakery when someone appeared at the mouth of the alleyway.

Winona wasn't ready for an attack, but she was just quick enough to grab Harry by the shoulders and yank him hard to the left. They avoided a Stunning Spell by mere inches, and Winona floundered in her pocket for her wand, wrenching it free and shouting, "Stupefy!"

Whoever was at the end of the alley blocked the attack with only a flick of their wand. Winona had to throw up a hasty Shield Charm to prevent the next one from hitting her or Harry. Mr Weasley burst free from the phone-box, then, shouting a spell Winona was unfamiliar with, a jet of red light shooting down the alleyway.

But the attacker – whoever they were – wasn't alone.

With a crack somebody Apparated behind them, and Winona was just turning to throw up another Shield Charm when their spell hit her hard. It was a simple Disarming Spell, but it was thrown with ruthless power. Winona cried out as she flew backwards, her head cracking against the concrete of the alley's wall, her wand flying from her hand.

"Winona – Apparate!" Mr Weasley ordered her, throwing spell after spell at their attackers, who she realised now wore metal masks over their faces, hiding their identities from view.

"My wand!" she rasped, head swimming and dizzy, on her hands and knees as she struggled to find her wand. "Get Harry out!" she shouted, and Mr Weasley didn't even hesitate. Harry – who had his wand raised to fight the Death Eaters – was gone before he could utter so much as a defensive spell.

Winona was relieved he was safe, but that left her alone in the alley. But that didn't matter; Harry was the priority. She might have been a useful pawn in this war, but Harry was the one who was going to end it all. He was the important one. She was nothing but collateral damage.

The Death Eater nearest to her began to walk towards her, and when they spoke she knew instantly who it was. "It will be easier for you to just come with us willingly, Miss Black," Lucius Malfoy's familiar voice sneered. "We're under orders not to kill you – but the Dark Lord said nothing about hurting you."

Winona scrambled backwards, heart in her throat. There was something wet and hot dripping down the side of her face – she'd hit her head against the wall. It must have split open. She needed her wand. Where the fuck was her wand?

"Be a good girl and get to your feet," sneered Malfoy.

"Screw you," Winona spat, still scrambling backwards as he approached. She could barely breathe, and she felt too dizzy, like she were on the deck of a ship in the middle of a hurricane. The ground beneath her seemed to dip and spin.

Winona couldn't see Malfoy's face, still covered by the mask, but clearly he was finished asking nicely. He lifted his wand, a curse ready on his lips, but then – a miracle! Winona's hand bumped a long piece of wood on the cement, and she gripped it with her hand, ducking her head and twisting on the spot.

The angle was awkward, given the way she was crouched on the ground, and her swimming head made it extremely difficult to concentrate on where she was going. But she tried to focus on the blurry image of Grimmauld Place in her head and simply Disapparated.

She was sucked through a tube and her body screamed with fire. Winona landed hard on the ground and felt a searing pain up her arm. She screwed her eyes shut tight and rolled on the hard pavement, tiny rocks biting into her skin.

Someone was shouting her name, but she couldn't figure out who it was beyond the blinding pain in her arm, the throbbing in her head, and the blood clogging her ear. But it didn't matter much, her body was too far gone to stay conscious anyway.

She felt a pair of hands on her face, gentle and warm to the touch, and someone was still shouting her name, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater. Unconsciousness was tugging at her, insisting she fall. She gave up the fight, letting herself drift to a place where pain became a distant memory; at least for a little while.


Next thing Winona knew, she was waking up in her bed in nothing but a sports bra, covered in a thin layer of sweat and her shoulder aching something fierce. She groaned, blinking open her eyes and wincing as the light from her lamp stabbed at her sore brain.

"Oh, sorry, dear," said a familiar voice, and she realised she wasn't alone. The light from the lamp dulled until it was just a faint glow, and Winona rolled her throbbing head to the side to find Mrs Weasley sat in a chair beside her bed. She looked more pale than usual, and her eyes were rimmed with red. She was leaning closer to Winona, and she realised the Weasley matriarch had a tight grip on her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Harry," Winona croaked, panic spiking in her chest.

"He's fine," Mrs Weasley assured her. "He's just fine. In a right state about you, but otherwise he's unharmed."

Relief like a drug, Winona relaxed back into the small mountain of pillows she was propped against. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could Mrs Weasley was ready with a glass of water, complete with a little straw for her convenience. Giving a smile that was more of a grimace, Winona sipped at it for a long few moments, the cool water soothing her aching throat.

"What happened?" she rasped once the glass was put back on her bedside table and Mrs Weasley had busied herself with anxiously smoothing down the blankets covering her.

Mrs Weasley's eyes filled with tears again, and Winona almost felt bad for asking. But she needed to know; it was all too fuzzy in her head. Memories distant and hazy, like shapes in the faraway fog.

"You never should have been allowed out of the house," Mrs Weasley said with a delicate sniffle. "Dumbledore should have considered the risks-"

"I didn't ask what should have happened," Winona interjected. She wasn't in the mood for waffling. "I asked what did."

Mrs Weasley paused, eyes still glittering in the low lighting of the room. Winona thought for a moment that maybe she was too harsh, but the ache in her arm and the way her mouth felt too dry was making it hard to concentrate on being polite.

To her relief, instead of scolding her, Mrs Weasley simply nodded her head. "You were attacked coming out of the Ministry," she whispered, wringing her hands together like just the thought alone was sending her into a panic. "You were hit by a Stunning Spell and hit your head. When you tried to Apparate back here, you splinched yourself – your left shoulder."

She looked inches away from tears again, and Winona spoke, hoping she wouldn't cry any more. "But Harry's definitely all right? Mr Weasley?"

"They're fine, dear," Mrs Weasley sniffled. "Oh, Arthur just feels awful – your father's furious that he left you there. There was a terrible scene. I could hear it all the way up here."

"You weren't there?"

"As if I was going to leave you alone," said Mrs Weasley in a tart voice, as though the mere suggestion offended her.

Winona had to admit, considering the awful tension between her and Mrs Weasley over the last few weeks, she wouldn't have expected she'd have been the one to volunteer to sit vigil at her side. "I thought you wouldn't…" Winona trailed off, head still swimming a little bit, making it hard to think.

Mrs Weasley finally burst into tears, dropping her face into her hands and sobbing. Alarmed, Winona tried to reach out with her arm, only for pain to radiate up her whole side. She hissed, shutting her eyes and counting to ten while she tried to ignore Mrs Weasley's hysterics.

"Oh, Winona," the matriarch finally cried, hands pressed over her eyes like she couldn't bear to look at her. "Oh, when I saw you. I was terrified! We all thought…" she trailed off, shuddering at the thought she couldn't voice aloud. She lifted her head from her hands, peering at Winona through swollen eyes. "I'm so glad you're okay, I can't tell you how scared I was… Especially with how awful things have been between us. If you'd…if you'd died," she choked on another sob, "and the last conversation we'd had was a fight? I'd never forgive myself…"

Winona swallowed thickly. "It's okay," she said, as soothing as she could be, immobile in her bed, shocks of pain shooting up and down her body every time she moved.

"It isn't okay!" Mrs Weasley insisted hysterically. "You're – Winona, you're like a daughter to me. You have been since the moment I met you. And – and the whole family adores you. You're one of us, and I've been treating you like…" she trailed off, sniffling again.

"I haven't been acting very kindly, either," Winona croaked. She hadn't been expecting to have this conversation straight after waking up from those injuries, but she was just glad it was happening at all. Something needed to break the stalemate the two of them had locked themselves into. Grievous bodily harm had seemed to do the trick. "I can't say I agree with how you handle everything, but I know you love Harry too, and you're just trying to protect him in your own way. So am I."

Mrs Weasley attempted a weak smile, rubbing at her red nose. "You do a wonderful job, Winona," she said softly. "But I think sometimes you forget that you're still only a girl. The responsibility to keep Harry safe isn't on your shoulders alone."

And that was a good point. Winona knew that from almost the day she'd met him, she'd taken on the role of Harry's protector – long before she'd even known they were family – and sometimes it made her a bit tunnel-visioned.

"He was all I had," she whispered, horrified to feel her own eyes begin to sting. "I couldn't protect my mother, and I couldn't protect myself," she added so quietly that Mrs Weasley almost missed it. "But I can protect him."

And she didn't know it was true until that very moment, saying it aloud. That's why she was so stubborn about what was best for Harry. That was why she was so determined to protect him, even to the point of fighting with the woman who'd been more a mother to her than anyone else since her own had been killed.

Mrs Weasley eyes still glittered, and she reached for Winona's hand, curling her fingers around hers. "You were only a child, Winona," she reminded her. "A baby. You couldn't have stopped what happened to her."

"I know," she said, voice cracking over the simple words. She cleared her throat. "I know."

Mrs Weasley gripped her hand tightly, tear tracks seeming to glow in the light of her dimmed lamp. "You do a very good job of looking after him," she said, the words vehement and clear. "He's so lucky to have you."

It didn't always feel that way, but Winona appreciated hearing it nonetheless. "I'm sorry for how I've behaved," she whispered. "I s'pose we're both just really stubborn when it comes to the people we love."

Mrs Weasley swallowed thickly. "I promise to try and be more aware of your boundaries," she whispered. "You were right; I might care for Harry like he's my own, but he isn't. He's yours, and I need to be more respectful of that."

Winona hadn't expected that. Mrs Weasley smiled wanly at her surprise.

"Fred and I had a little chat," she admitted to Winona in an undertone. Winona's surprise only grew, and she watched as Mrs Weasley's smile melted into a concerned frown. "He's not been himself, while you've been sleeping."

Something occurred to her, and fear swooped in her gut. "What? How long has it been?"

Mrs Weasley hesitated a moment. "Two days."

"I've been unconscious for two days?"

Mrs Weasley tried to smile, but again it fell flat. "Dumbledore called in a contact who works at St Mungo's. Healer Sims," she revealed. "She treated your splinch, fixed it right up, but said there would be pain for a few days yet. But you'd also hit your head, and brain injuries can be tricky, so she gave you a Sleeping Draught to keep you unconscious in order to give her other healing potions time to work."

Winona lifted the arm that wasn't aching like a bitch, pressing her fingertips to her hairline where she'd felt her head split open as she'd hit the concrete wall. The skin had been knitted perfectly back together. She couldn't feel so much as a scar.

"Are you hungry?" Mrs Weasley asked quietly.

Now that she thought about it, there was an empty, gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach, but at the same time the thought of actually eating food made her feel ill. Mrs Weasley seemed to read the answer on her face.

"You need to eat," she said sternly. Winona opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs Weasley cut her off. "If you agree to eat something, I'll let Fred sit with you."

And damn if the woman didn't know how to negotiate. "Where is he?" Winona asked, voice still low and hoarse.

"Sulking in his room, I expect," she told her offhandedly. "When I told him he couldn't sit with you, he was somewhat…upset."

Winona bristled as much as someone in her condition could manage. "Why couldn't he sit with me?"

Mrs Weasley looked exasperated. "You're not decent, Winona," she said, glancing pointedly at her exposed skin. "It would be inappropriate."

Winona opened her mouth to snipe that considering Fred had literally been inside her, seeing her without a shirt on was hardly groundbreaking territory. But then she remembered who she was talking to, and decided that maybe it was best to keep that fact to herself.

"Can you help me get a shirt on, then?" she asked instead.

Mrs Weasley nodded. Winona was expecting her to help her sit upright and painstakingly wrangle a shirt over her head, but instead all she had to do was flick her wand and a shirt materialised on Winona's body. She stared down at her old Rolling Stones teeshirt in surprise. Over six years in the wizarding world, and sometimes magic still managed to completely flummox her.

"I'll go fix you something small," said Mrs Weasley. "And I'll be sending Harry and Sirius up first – they've been driving everyone bonkers, and I have a feeling Sirius would throw a tantrum if he knew I let Fred up here before him."

With that she left the room, and Winona stared after her, warmth glowing in the pit of her stomach. She thought, suddenly, that if little ten-year-old Winona could see her life as it was now, she wouldn't recognise it as her own. Back then she'd been in a foster home that only fed her one frozen meal a day, and she'd had no friends to speak of – now she was getting a snack made for her because she looked peckish, and she had literally a queue of people waiting to visit her.

That lonely, jaded little girl probably wouldn't believe it was real. Because nothing that lucky ever happened to someone like her.

She was lost in her musings when the door opened again and her cousin poked his head through the gap. Their gazes met and she watched as the look in his eyes went from anxious to relieved. "You just gonna peer through the door like a creep?" she asked, arching a brow. "Get in here."

Harry opened the door wider and walked into the room, Sirius not far behind. Her dad looked just as anxious as Harry had, but that anxiety didn't disappear when he saw her awake and quipping. If anything he looked more worried, wandering in after his godson and coming to a stop beside the chair Harry had sunk into, arms crossed over his chest.

Sensing her father was a storm on the inside, Winona kept her attention on Harry. "Are you okay?" she asked him, eyes sweeping him for injury. "Were you hurt?"

Harry looked the opposite of amused. "Me?" he asked incredulously. "Winnie, you've been unconscious for two days!"

She frowned at him. "That doesn't answer my question."

Harry sighed like she were being terribly tiresome. Leaning back in his chair, he rolled his emerald eyes. "Yes, Winona," he said in an annoyed voice, "I'm absolutely fine. You, on the other hand-"

"Barely a scratch, Boy-Wonder," she told him, flapping her hand dismissively and trying to hide the way her eyes burned from the pain of it. Harry hardly looked convinced, but she'd expected that, especially considering that she was lying through her teeth.

Harry saw through her like glass. "How do you really feel?" he demanded.

And she didn't want to lie to him. Her eyes flickered up to her silent father, but Sirius said nothing, staring down at her without really seeing her. Winona sighed and looked back at Harry. "I'm sore," she confessed. "My shoulder's kind of burning, but I think that's probably normal. My head feels like it's full of cotton, and my throat's aching like I spent the last two days gargling nails."

Her dad's expression twitched. "That'd be from the screaming."

That took her by surprise. "The what?"

Sirius didn't reply, and Harry stepped in to explain. "When the doctor – er, Healer – got here, you were in bad shape. Lupin levitated you up here and we were all sent down to the kitchen to wait. We could hear your screams six floors away."

Winona grimaced. If she thought very hard, she could almost remember a shrieking scream and a feeling like fire in her left shoulder. She didn't want to remember that, though, so she locked it in a drawer in the very back of her mind and left it to grow mould.

"Sorry," Winona told him quietly.

Harry looked startled. "You don't need to apologise, Winnie."

Winona swallowed around the lump in her throat and looked up at Sirius. He was scowling now, grey eyes like the sky during a thunderstorm, and she reached up with the hand that didn't hurt to move. Sirius reluctantly stepped forwards, taking her hand in his, and she squeezed.

"Heard you had a spat with Mr Weasley," she said quietly. Her dad grimaced like he tasted something bad, saying nothing. But he didn't let go of her hand, so she kept going. "I told him to leave," she told him, something she was sure he'd heard from the others, but he needed to hear it from her, too. "We were separated, and he was right next to Harry. I knew he could get Harry out, so that's what I told him to do."

Sirius still said nothing, eyes hard. Winona's chest hurt at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly, gripping his hand tighter, afraid he might pull away and never come back. "I know it must have been scary. But I made a decision in the moment, and it all turned out okay in the end. I'm fine."

Sirius swallowed, gripping her hand tighter. He took a moment before speaking, and Winona watched him struggle to gather the words. "You don't leave this house until the day you get on that train," he said gruffly. "You hear me, Pup? You do not leave this house."

And while she wanted to fight against the order, she knew what her dad needed most in this moment was for her to promise to stay safe. For her to promise not to do anything stupid or dangerous or reckless ever again. And she couldn't promise that; not really. The world they lived in was a treacherous one, and she was at the very centre of a brewing war that would determine the fate of everything they held dear.

She couldn't promise not to do anything reckless, because sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes it was the only option. But what she could do was promise not to leave the house again. That, at the very least, seemed attainable.

"I won't leave the house," she swore.

He gripped her hand tighter, eyes still narrowed. "Dumbledore never should have let you go in the first place," he muttered, struggling to deal with the emotions swimming inside of him. "Or, at the very least, he should have let me come with you."

Gripping his hand tighter, she tugged until he looked at her. "What's done is done," she said softly, nothing he didn't already know. "We can't rewrite the past."

Sirius hung his head, silent for another beat before he looked up at her and Harry. "We'll be okay," he said it like he was trying to convince himself it was true.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he said quickly. "We will."

But none of them could quite bring themselves to believe it.

A gentle rapping at the door broke their thoughtful silence, and Winona saw Mrs Weasley hovering in the doorway, a tray of neatly arranged sandwich triangles balanced on her palm. Winona looked back at her small family, shooting them a tired smile.

"I promised I'd eat," she told them quietly. "And if I don't follow through, you'll really have to worry for my life."

Sirius rolled his eyes, squeezed her hand, and turned to leave. He brushed past Mrs Weasley without a word, stalking silently down the stairs. He wasn't good with emotions; Winona could relate. It was probably where she'd gotten it from.

"I'll stay and keep you company," offered Harry, but then the floor creaked as Fred stepped into the room, blue eyes round and focused intently on his girlfriend. Harry made a face. "On second thought, I think I'll leave the two of you to…er…yeah."

With that he fled the room, and Winona would have laughed if she wasn't so preoccupied with Fred's stare. Mrs Weasley passed in front of him, plate of food held out. "I want you to eat it all, now," she ordered Winona, voice soft, as though anything louder might shatter her to pieces. "You need your strength."

Winona took the plate, responding with a small smile. Mrs Weasley hesitated, looking between Fred and Winona. For one terrible moment Winona worried she would elect to stay in the room with them, but Fred's eyes cut to her, hard and pleading, and Mrs Weasley relented with a sigh.

"Just shout if you need me, dear," she told Winona quietly before shuffling from the room, very obviously leaving the door open as she went.

Finally alone, Fred made him way towards her. She thought he would sit on the bed with her, but instead he fell into the chair next to her, elbows braced on his knees, a hard look on his face. Ignoring her food, Winona reached for him, relieved when he didn't hesitate to take her hand, threading their fingers together naturally.

"How do you feel?" he asked her quietly, and Winona got the feeling she was going to very quickly tire of that question.

"A little sore, but I'm fine," she assured him.

Fred eyed her a long few moments, then nodded pointedly to the sandwich in her lap. "You should eat," he said, and with a sigh she let go of his hand and did as she was told.

The sandwich was nice, she had to admit, and once she'd started eating it was difficult to stop. Her stomach grumbled as she chewed eagerly. "What's been going on while I was out of it?" she asked Fred around her mouthful, and he sat back in his chair, suddenly looking tired.

"Not much," he told her, a distant look in his eyes. "Mum's been so occupied with you, she hasn't made us do any cleaning. Everyone's enjoyed the break."

"Well," she said mildly, "at least something good came of this whole mess."

Fred said nothing, suspiciously silent. When she glanced up she found he looked stricken, and felt bad for making light of it.

"I'm sorry."

As if he'd been a million miles away, Fred blinked back to the moment. "For what?"

She realised she wasn't sure. "Worrying you, I guess."

Now he looked exasperated. "You don't have to apologise for that, Win," he told her, rolling his eyes.

She chewed the final bite of her sandwich, then put the empty plate on her bedside table and shuffled to the right, leaving a large space for him on the other side of the bed.

She stared at him expectantly when he didn't move, and Fred winced. "I don't know if I should-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here," she ordered him, her voice stern but her eyes pleading. Fred didn't argue, he just stood to his feet, toed off his shoes, then climbed onto the bed with her. He settled cautiously beside her, and she rolled her eyes, taking the initiative and shuffling closer until she could tangle their legs together and rest her head on his shoulder, good arm winding around his waist, holding tight.

Fred stayed rigid for a long few moments, and the whole time she just held him, squeezing without the intention of letting go. Finally, he began to relax. His arm gently settled over her shoulders and he tugged her even tighter into his side. She felt him nuzzle into her hair, softly breathing in her scent, and she did the same, letting his familiar aroma of gunpowder and fresh soil soothe her.

"I'm okay," she promised him again, speaking the words into his shoulder, glad she had an excuse not to meet his eyes. With her good arm she began to trace nonsense shapes into his chest, feeling his heart thumping steadily beneath her fingertips.

"You almost weren't," he whispered, face buried in her hair, which she was sure by now more resembled a bird's nest than anything else.

"But I am."

Fred held her tighter, and when he sighed she felt his warm breath against her scalp. "Everyone kept saying you were in so much danger," he began, so quiet she barely heard. "I don't think I even really believed them until now. Until this."

Winona swallowed around her dry throat. "I don't really think I did, either," she confessed, nuzzling into his neck, breathing him in some more. He was so warm, she wanted to stay where she was forever, or maybe even longer, if she could swing it.

"George's been in a right state," Fred said after a few minutes of quiet.

Winona grinned into his shoulder. "Oh, I'm sure he's been a complete mess," she said, mock-solemn.

"Absolutely inconsolable."

As if knowing he was being talked about, George Apparated into the room with a low pop, a worried look on his face that melted into a grin when he saw her awake and alert, curled around Fred like a koala bear.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" her best friend chirped, crossing his arms over his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. "Thought you were up here giving birth, the way you were screaming."

Winona's eyebrows shot up. "Keep it up, and I'll make sure you give birth – but, believe me, it'll be to something much less pleasant than a baby."

George laughed off the threat with ease. He leaned over the bed with his hand outstretched and Winona lifted her good arm, gripping his hand. "If you're throwing those sorts of threats around, you really must be okay," he said warmly, squeezing her hand tight.

"I'm my usual, sparkling self," she assured him.

George scoffed. "I dunno if I'd go that far."

It didn't escape Winona's notice that Fred wasn't joining into their usual banter, and she squeezed George's hand once more before letting go and pressing her palm to her boyfriend's chest. She leant backwards just enough to look at his face, finding him frowning into the far corner of the room. "Fred?" she asked worriedly.

Fred blinked back to himself once more, tilting his head to look at her, giving a smile that she couldn't quite believe was real. "I'm fine, Win," he promised her.

She looked skeptical, and the twins saw it right away. "He's just tired," George told her. Fred looked up with a glare, but his twin wilfully ignored him. "He hasn't slept a wink since you were attacked. If anything, I'm glad you're awake just so he'll finally let himself nod off and stop bothering me."

Fred rolled his eyes, and Winona smiled, quietly amused. She took his chin in her hand, angling his head down so she could see his eyes. Now that she looked closely, she saw they were bloodshot. She wondered how she'd missed it before – he looked downright exhausted.

"I've been out of it two whole days. You're telling me you haven't slept at all in forty-eight hours?" she asked scoldingly.

Fred shrugged unapologetically. "Had to be sure you were all right," he said simply. Winona smiled softly, dragging her thumb across his jaw. It was prickly with stubble he hadn't bothered to shave, and she felt bad for making him so worried, even though she knew she didn't have to.

"Now that you know I'm fine, will you sleep?" she asked quietly.

He frowned, and she wasn't sure why. George let out a soft laugh and she turned to look at him in confusion, only to watch him blow her a kiss and wave before Disapparating out of the room with a low crack. Winona turned back to Fred, exasperated but still holding his face in gentle hands.

"What was that all about?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "He just knows that the only way I'm getting any sleep anytime soon is with you in my arms."

He said it so casually, like it were a simple fact of life and not one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her. Winona smiled and gingerly reached up to kiss him while being careful not to put too much weight on her aching arm.

His kiss was delicate, like he was afraid of hurting her, and so she nipped his lip in reprimand. He made a sound of surprise into her mouth, and she curled her fingers into his hair, holding him tighter against her.

But Fred was determined to treat her like she were made of glass, and once he'd made up his mind about something, it wasn't likely he'd be changing it anytime soon. She pulled back with a frustrated huff and Fred smirked down at her crookedly.

"If you're not going to kiss me properly, will you at least hold me while you try to get some sleep?" she sighed.

He frowned. "But you only just woke up."

"And now I want to go back to sleep," she told him plainly. It was true, she was feeling exhausted. Being unconscious wasn't exactly the same as getting a proper night's rest. "Would you please sleep with me?" she asked, looking up at him from under her lashes.

Fred rolled his eyes and sighed, then shuffled down until he was laid flat on the bed, head on the same pillow as hers, faces a hair's breadth from each other. She lifted her hand, very gently beginning to trace her fingertips across his face, tracing patterns into his temples and the bridge of his nose. His eyes slid shut and he hummed in contentment.

"Thank you for caring," she whispered after so long she almost thought he might be asleep.

But his eyes flickered open again, and his cornflower blues peered at her. They were narrowed, like he was considering something carefully. She stared back, still tracing his face, now connecting all his freckles together like a connect-the-dots, waiting for him to say what he was working himself up to.

He opened his mouth, the words on his tongue, and suddenly Winona knew what he was going to say. Fear shot through her, strong and fierce, and she panicked, swooping in to press their lips together in a firm kiss.

It was chaste but passionate, their lips slotted together, barely moving at all. They just felt one another there, in each other's space, breathing the same air and sharing a heartbeat. She pulled back once she was sure he got the message.

I know, but not yet. Now now. Please not now.

She opened her eyes, meeting his, her fingers tangled in his orange hair. He swallowed loudly, then nodded his head once. Winona smiled gratefully, pecking him once more before sliding down until her cheek rested against his clavicle and she let her eyes slide shut.

She knew when Fred fell asleep. She felt his muscles relax and his breathing even out. He still held her to him, heart steady and calm beneath her ear. Winona let the exhaustion pull at her until finally she fell asleep with him, settling in for a night blessedly free of the nightmares that haunted her so very often.

Sirius appeared in the doorway as they slept, hand held to knock, but he dropped it when he saw them wrapped up in one another, slumbering peacefully. His throat felt tight and his heart felt heavy, but somehow at the same time he felt reassured, watching the young couple sleep. He hesitated a few moments, then gripped the handle of the door and pulled until it shut with a quiet click.

For now, they would sleep. He had a feeling they were going to need it.


Four days later, Winona was back to her usual, healthy self. Mrs Weasley kept plying her with hot soups and hearty stews, and Fred made her so much tea that she forgot what any other drink tasted like. George was the most normal out of them all, sitting by her bed and arguing good-naturedly over order form layouts and product design.

Winona was just relieved that things were finally going back to normal.

As September first grew ever closer, Winona and Harry began to notice a change in Sirius. He grew impatient and surly. Were it anyone else, Winona would suggest a bubblebath and a stiff dink, but it wasn't just anyone – it was her dad, and she could tell he was made upset by the fact she and Harry would be leaving him alone once again.

She had no idea how to bring it up with him. No idea how to reassure him that it was just a few months, and he'd see them again at Christmas.

"You could try just…I dunno…saying it," Fred suggested, reclined on his bed, tossing a ball up towards the ceiling and catching it, over and over again. "He's scared about losing you again, especially after the attack. He's your dad. Just talk to him."

Winona cringed, but didn't argue. He was right, of course, but when was she ever that emotionally mature?

"You could try writing it in a letter, and shoving it under his door in the night," George suggested from where he was sat cross-legged on the floor between their beds, hovering over a bubbling cauldron with a wand in one hand and a potions book in another.

"George, that's ridiculous," Winona sniped.

"So is this whole conversation," he replied. She made a face that went ignored, and Winona turned to Fred.

"Don't look at me," he said, and she made a face at him, too.

There was a knock at the door, and Winona stood to her feet, cracking the door open just enough to stick her head through. It was Ron, and he frowned when she answered it rather than Fred or George. "Where're the twins?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"They're naked," she told him without flinching.

Ron blinked. "What, both of them?"

"They're shy," she replied. "Whatcha got there?" she asked, looking pointedly down at the stack of letters in his hand.

"Hogwarts letters came," he said, shuffling through the stack and pulling out three. She snatched them from his hand.

"I'll give the twins theirs," she assured him, then shut the door in his face. She listened as Ron muttered under his breath and walked away, then turned to the twins, neither of whom looked particularly amused.

"We're naked?" Fred asked, exasperated.

"I had to come up with a lie on the spot," she said, glancing at the names on the letters before dropping George's into his lap then hopping onto Fred's bed with him, handing him his.

"Why would we be naked, together?" George asked even as he ripped open his letter.

"I dunno, maybe you got a ruler out and were comparing yourselves-"

"That happened one time and you swore never to bring it up again," Fred scowled. Winona laughed, kissing him fondly on the cheek before tearing open her letter.

Just the usual things – the reminder that term began on the first, and their booklist. It only contained two new books, and Winona frowned down at the new ones curiously.

"Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard," George read aloud, just as befuddled. "Well, that sounds exceedingly dull."

"It's school," Winona reminded him. "It's all exceedingly dull."

"It's obviously for Defence," said Fred. "Means we must have a new teacher. Wonder who got the job?"

Winona snorted. "Who'd want the job? The bloody position's cursed."

From below them, they could hear Harry and Ron's voices, with only a glance at one another, Fred and George disappeared. Left alone in their room, Winona threw her hands up in exasperation and trudged out the door and down the stairs to the floor below. After splinching herself last time she'd Apparated, she was a little hesitant to do it again any time soon.

"We overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred was telling Harry when she pushed open the door and slipped inside, casting a scathing look at the twins that went ignored. "From what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

George scoffed. "Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?"

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"Win says the position's cursed," said Fred, casting a look back at her. "She's a little superstitious in that way. By-product of the visions, I'm guessing."

Winona shook her head. "Shut up."

He grinned back winningly, only to frown when he caught sight of Ron stood a few steps away, still as a statue, gaping down at his Hogwarts letter like it had developed sentience and begun insulting him.

"What's up with you, Ron?" he asked, a furrow in his brow. Ron didn't answer, looking paler and paler by the second. "What's the matter?" Fred pressed, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

His mouth fell open, too, at whatever he'd found.

"What is it?" Winona asked impatiently.

George turned to look at her. "You mean you don't already know?"

"I'm not all-knowing," she snapped back for a millionth time in her life.

But they were saved from any more bickering when Fred exclaimed. "Prefect?"

George leapt forward, snatching the envelope in Ron's hand and shaking it to empty it. Something scarlet and gold dropped into his palm, and Winona's eyes went wide with shock. "No way," George whispered.

Winona let out a near-hysterical laugh. "Holy shit," she said. Ron still hadn't reacted.

"There's been a mistake," said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect." The twins' heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry. "We thought you were a cert!"

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!" George agreed.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!"

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," George said to Fred in more of an undertone.

"Yeah," said Fred slowly, looking at Harry thoughtfully. "Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right."

He clapped Winona's cousin on the shoulder, while simultaneously shooting Ron a scathing look. Winona bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. Ron still looked like someone had slapped him clean across the face.

"Prefect…" mused Fred. "Ickle Ronnie the prefect…"

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him. Harry took it, looking just about as shellshocked as poor Ron.

The door opened with a loud banging sound, and Winona reached for her wand before realising it was just Hermione. She came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand. She looked like a can of soda, shaken and ready to be unleashed on the world.

"Did you – did you get–?" she stammered, then spotted the badge in Harry's hand and shrieked. "I knew it!" she cried excitedly, waving her letter in the air like it were a gold medal at the Olympics. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

Hermione, who was nodding and grinning, just as abruptly froze. "It – what?" she asked, like they'd just spoken in Gobbledegook.

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said.

"Ron?" echoed Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But … are you sure? I mean–?"

"I can understand why you'd be confused," said Winona, a smirk growing on her face.

Hermione went pink when Ron whirled on her defiantly, apparently offended by her confusion. "It's my name on the letter," he said, steadying himself as if gearing for a fight. Winona caught Fred's eye and cringed. Fred coughed to hide a laugh.

"I…" Hermione trailed off uselessly, at a loss for words. "I … well … wow! Well done, Ron! That's really–"

"Unexpected," said George, nodding.

"No," hissed Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "no, it's not … Ron's done loads of … he's really…"

Clearly she was struggling to find even one thing Ron had done in his time at Hogwarts that would qualify him to be a prefect. Winona pressed a hand over her mouth to fight her laughter, and she looked back at the twins, who both seemed similarly amused.

Mrs Weasley suddenly shuffled into the room, a large pile of freshly laundered robes in her arms.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short. I can't believe how fast you're growing… What colour would you like?"

"Get him red and gold, to match his badge," said George, smirking slyly. Winona kicked him hard in the shin, but she couldn't quite smother her laughter.

"Match his what?" asked Mrs Weasley absently as she sorted through their clothes.

"His badge," said Fred quickly, like someone ripping off a bandaid. "His lovely, shiny new prefect's badge."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, then Mrs Weasley slowly turned to look at them. "His … but … Ron, you're not…?"

Looking a tiny bit ill, Ron held up his prefect's badge, and Mrs Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione had. Winona winced against the sound, stepping around an ecstatic Mrs Weasley to wind an arm around Fred's middle.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" Mrs Weasley was exclaiming, shrill enough to hurt their ears. "Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" asked George indignantly, but his mother just pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh, Ronnie–"

The twins began to make loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs Weasley didn't notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

"Mum … Mum, get a grip…" he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?" said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

"You've got to have a reward for this!" said Mrs Weasley fondly. "How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," said Fred around a scowl. Winona pinched him in reprimand, and he grimaced at her sourly.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers–"

"Mum," said Ron hopefully, "can I have a new broom?"

Mrs Weasley's face fell; broomsticks were expensive. Fred and George seemed to hold their breath, waiting to hear, and Ron hurried to continue.

"Not a really good one!" he assured her. "Just–just a new one for a change…"

Mrs Weasley hesitated, then smiled. "Of course you can… Well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later… Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks… A prefect… Oh, I'm all of a dither!"

She kissed Ron again, who batted her away, still red-faced and embarrassed. She sniffled once and then shuffled from the room. With her gone, the twins exchanged wicked looks.

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" squeaked Fred mockingly.

"We could curtsey, if you like," added George much the same.

Ron scowled at them darkly. "Oh, shut up."

"Or what?" said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Going to put us in detention?"

His arm remained around Winona, fingers toying absently with the belt loop of her jeans. She felt warm from the absent-minded affection, smiling softly.

"I'd love to see him try," sniggered George.

"He could if you don't watch out!" Hermione warned them.

The twins were silent a moment, then abruptly burst into loud laughter, having to hold one another up in their amusement.

"Drop it, Hermione," muttered Ron, red in the face again.

"We're going to have to watch our step, George," said Fred, pretending to tremble at the thought of Ron having that sort of power over them, "with these two on our case…"

"Yeah," George agreed facetiously, "it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over."

And with a low crack they Disapparated, leaving Winona down there again.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, tilting her head back to shout at the ceiling directly above them, where she knew the twins' room to be. "Quit doing that!"

They could hear the twins' laughter through the ceiling, and Winona flipped off the light fixture as if they could see it.

"Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!" exclaimed Hermione.

Winona scoffed. "Jealous?" she asked, incredulous. "The twins would rather saw off their arms than be prefects."

Hermione stuck her nose in the air. "Well, how else do you explain their reaction?"

"Um, utter hilarity?"

"They've always said only prats become prefects…" said Ron around a frown. "Still, they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose… She'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great… Yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows…"

He dashed from the room, leaving Harry, Winona and Hermione alone.

Harry abruptly went to his clean laundry, beginning to bundle it up and take it over to his trunk. Winona watched him work, taking in the way he stubbornly didn't look at them while he did. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her gut.

She glanced at Hermione, who looked just as concerned. "Harry?" his friend asked cautiously.

"Well done, Hermione," said Harry, so hearty and bright, it sounded nothing but insincere. Winona's stomach swooped with concern. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

Neither of them were convinced. "Thanks," said Hermione carefully. "Erm – Harry – could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased – I mean prefect is something they can understand."

"Yeah, no problem," said Harry, still in the horrible voice that sounded nothing like himself. "Take her!"

Hermione got Hedwig down from where she was perched atop the wardrobe, then hesitated in the doorway. She looked worriedly at Winona, who nodded once. Sighing, Hermione left.

Winona shut the door after her, sealing her and Harry alone in the room. Harry was still leant over his trunk, and he stayed that way for so long, Winona began to grow concerned. Then he straightened and looked over his shoulder, doing a double-take when he realised he wasn't alone.

"You all right, Boy-Wonder?"

"Yeah!" he said, bright and excited, like someone at a bloody Quidditch match. "I'm great."

She was unimpressed. "Don't do that," she begged him. "Lie to anyone and everyone else. But not to me."

Harry opened his mouth, intent on lying again, only to catch her eye and see how solemn she looked. He relented, collapsing down onto his bed, the mattress springs squeaking under his weight. Winona let him sit a moment, sorting through his thoughts, before she gingerly crossed the room and took a seat beside him.

"Come on, Cuz," she said, bumping their shoulders together. "Talk to me."

Harry took a moment to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I'd forgotten all about prefects," he confessed. "With the trial, I didn't even remember… But now I'm realising, deep down, I'd been expecting…"

"You thought you'd be the one picked," she finished knowingly.

Harry sighed, hanging his head. "Does that make me arrogant? Like I think I'm somehow superior?"

Winona had to smile. "I don't think you're arrogant, Harry," she promised him. "I thought it would be you, too."

He looked up, surprised. "Really?"

"Everyone did," she told him, nothing he didn't already know. "The twins – even Hermione. You were the obvious choice."

"But Ron-"

"Also deserves it," she said firmly. "This doesn't mean either of you is better or worse than the other. All this means is that Dumbledore didn't want to load your plate too much."

He looked confused. "My plate?"

"Well, you're still recovering from last term, Harry. Not to mention the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' thing, and you can't forget, you've got OWLs this year, too. You're having a hard enough time without having to worry about patrolling the corridors and giving first years directions to class."

"But I've seen more – I've done more-"

"Harry," she said patiently. "Do you even want to be a prefect?"

Harry paused. Apparently, in amongst it all, that wasn't something he'd actually considered. "Erm, well…" She stared at him knowingly, and Harry sighed. "No, I guess not," he admitted. "It doesn't really make a difference, does it? I guess I'm just so used to…"

"Being the chosen one?" she asked, a smirk on her lips at the joke he didn't yet understand.

He tried to smile, but it fell flat. "Yeah."

"That doesn't make you a bad person, Harry," she promised him. "It makes you a normal kid."

Harry nodded his head, and she could see she'd helped get it through to him, at least a little. "Yeah," he said again. "Thanks, Win."

"Anytime, Boy-Wonder," she said, ruffling his hair and standing to her feet. "Now I've gotta go slap Fred and George for being prats."

Harry chuckled, and it even sounded sincere. She patted him affectionately on the cheek before leaving the room, letting him collect himself before Ron returned.

Winona was planning to go to the twins' room, but instead bypassed it, taking the stairs up another flight to her own floor. Her room was quiet, and she took a minute to enjoy the silence, beginning to pack her trunk.

She wasn't the neatest witch in the house, but she made more of an effort than usual to fold her clothes and gather all her supplies. As she worked, the realisation that she was soon going to leave Grimmauld Place began to sink in.

Her hands stilled where she was rolling together a pair of socks. Over the last few months, this dank, creepy house had become more of a home than any she'd ever had before. She knew that was more to do with the people she'd been living with than the house itself, but suddenly the thought of leaving the house made her stomach swoop with dread.

She hadn't given much thought to going back to school. She'd known the start of term was approaching with all the speed of an oncoming train, but somehow it had still felt distant; unreal.

Winona looked around the bedroom that had once been her late-uncle's, all darkness, dust and dark arts. Now the walls were covered with artwork, colourful, and the whole room smelt of fresh parchment and paint. Jars of cloudy paint water spotted the room, with brushes of all sorts sticking out of them like wooden flower arrangements.

She loved Hogwarts – she really did – but all of a sudden she realised it wasn't home in the same way Grimmauld Place was. She shared Hogwarts with hundreds of other people; but she only shared this creepy townhouse with the people closest to her. It was her family's home, something she'd never been sure she'd ever get to have.

Heart in her feet, Winona stared at the art lining the walls and the pretty bedspread Remus had picked up from the market when she'd first arrived. For the first time in her life, she wasn't looking forwards to going back to Hogwarts.

There was a gentle knocking on her bedroom door, and Winona called for them to come in. The door creaked open and Fred stuck his head through the gap, brilliant red hair like fire in the warm light of her room.

"What're you doing up here?" he asked, a frown on his face.

"Packing my trunk," she said, tossing the socks she'd been holding dumbly for the better part of five minutes into her trunk. They disappeared inside and she moved onto the rolls of parchment and writing quills she had stored in her bedside table.

Fred slipped properly into the room, and the door shut with a quiet click behind him. "Need any help?" he asked helpfully, but the glint in his cornflower eyes told her he'd make more mess than he'd clean.

"Nah, I'm almost done," she said, untying her Gryffindor scarf from where it was wound around the post of her bed.

Fred's lanky arms wound around her middle, pulling her back against him, and she went with a small sigh. "What's the matter?" he mumbled into her hair as they swayed gentle side to side. She gripped his hands, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers.

"Is it strange that I don't want to go back to school?" she whispered, the truth spilling from her like ink from a well.

Fred was quiet a moment, and she felt him press his lips to the crown of her head as he pondered the question. "Not really," he finally said. "I don't particularly want to, either."

That took her by surprise. She turned in his arms, winding her own around his neck, staying pressed to his front as she toyed absently with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "George and I are ready to open the shop. Having to go back to school only delays our plans."

"But you don't have a shop yet," she pointed out. "Unless…did that realestate broker get back to you about the place in Diagon Alley?"

"Nah, not yet," he shook his head. "Said it could still be a few months until we hear anything."

"So, when you say you're 'ready' to open the shop-"

"I mean in here," he said, letting go of her waist to playfully tap his fingertips against his own chest. Winona laughed quietly, shaking her head in exasperation. "We've learnt all we need to from Hogwarts."

She frowned. "Then why go back at all?"

"Because, as excited as we are to start real life, it doesn't mean anything if we're starting it alone. You and the others are going to finish out the year, and so, so are we. Besides," he added, "one more year of perfecting our inventions in the safety of Hogwarts castle doesn't sound completely unpleasant. Especially when there are so many willing test subjects to have access to."

Winona couldn't help but smile, still gently tugging at the hair at his nape. "This is all just a roundabout way of saying you wanna stay with me, right?" she teased him sweetly.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course," he said sarcastically, but the glitter of warm amusement in his eyes was impossible to mask. "It's all about you, Win."

She tugged playfully on his earlobe. "And don't you forget it."

When he kissed her, it set off fireworks in her stomach. She opened up to him, tangling her fingers in his fiery hair and gasping into his mouth when he pressed her against the closest post of her bed, the hard mahogany wood digging into the ridges of her spine, but she didn't care.

She laughed breathlessly when he nipped at her lip, chasing his mouth when he pulled back and bringing him into another languid kiss.

There was a brisk knock on the door, and whoever it wasn't didn't wait to burst into the room. Fred and Winona disentangled themselves, and Fred went pale when they saw it was Sirius, leaning in the doorway, an unimpressed look on his face.

"Sirius," squeaked Fred, and Winona bit her lip to smother a grin.

Sirius' stormy eyes were narrowed at them, but really, it was hardly the first time they'd been caught in such a compromising position. It wasn't even the worst thing someone had walked in on. At least this time they were both still fully dressed.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Winona asked her dad dryly, holding stubbornly onto Fred's sweaty hand.

Sirius eyed Fred another long moment before turning his eyes to his daughter. "Well, with Molly out for the day, it leaves the kitchen free for baking. Thought you might like to take advantage while you can."

She narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "You just want more snickerdoodles, don't you?"

Sirius made a face and held his hands up in surrender. "I admit to nothing."

Winona smiled, and although Sirius mirrored the expression, she couldn't help but think it looked a little sadder than usual. She turned to Fred. "Go finish packing your trunk," she ordered him.

"What do I get if I do?" he asked playfully.

"Two snickerdoodles and a crisp high five."

"Make it three and you have yourself a deal."

Winona pushed him away by his face and he laughed as he made his way towards the door, stepping around a surly-looking Sirius and making a break for the stairs. With Fred gone, Winona couldn't help but sigh, like he'd taken all the levity in the world with him.

Sirius watched her, his eyes – so like her own – shrewd and knowing. "You don't seem excited to be going back to school," he observed quietly.

"You don't seem excited to have me leave," she observed right back.

"I'm not," he admitted freely, the force of the confession taking her breath away. "I wish you didn't have to go… But I know you'll be safe there. No safer place, Hogwarts."

Winona snorted skeptically. "Yeah, s'not like You-Know-Who was able to infiltrate it twice already or anything."

To her surprise, Sirius looked amused by her bitter comment. "You'll be safe, Pup," he told her like it was a secret. She cocked her head curiously, and he did his best to smile. "Because I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't."

She wanted to make a dry quip about hopes and prayers not being worth a damn in a war like this one, but something about the sadness in her father's eyes stopped her. She thought that maybe, she actually understood what he meant. They had to believe everything would work out okay – because the alternative was the death of all they loved. And that was unthinkable.

"C'mon," he said, lifting an arm. Winona hesitated only a moment, then quickly slid beneath his arm, giving him a brief but heartfelt hug. Pulling back, he began to lead her in the direction of the stairs that would take them down, down into the kitchen. "Didn't you say you had some snickerdoodles to make?"


A/N: I had a review that mentioned being uncomfortable with the way Winona deals with authority figures, and I'd like to say this: Winona grew up without getting any respect from the adults in her life. When it comes to authority figures, she has something of an issue. She might have friends and family now, but the way someone grows up determines what they'll be life for life, and when I look at Winona's past and her character today, I know she's not the kind of person to hold back her opinions when it comes to the people in charge.

It might seem kind of disrespectful of her, to snap at the adults around her like she knows best – but that's sort of the point. She thinks she knows best. She's a little sanctimonious and maybe even self-righteous, but aren't most teenagers? Anyway, I will defend Winona to my dying breath. Although I thank you for the constructive criticism, it was an active decision I made about her character.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this one – I look forwards to hearing from you!

Review of the Week (or, month, I suppose) goes to TaliaD97 – I already messaged you with a response, but your words were so kind I felt I had to highlight you here, too. Thank you again, your review really made me so happy to read. Hope you enjoyed!