It was Harry who picked Winona up off Sirius, who seemed somewhat lost for words when confronted with his sobbing, trembling daughter. Never had she been so upset, so hysterical. She might have been embarrassed were she not so lost in her cascading relief.
"Er…what do we do?" asked Neville warily, watching as Winona wound her arms around Harry's shoulders and cried.
"I dunno," Harry murmured, patting his cousin awkwardly on the back.
"I – I'm okay," she said shakily, pulling away and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. "I'm fine," she said again, as if saying it with enough confidence might make it true. She turned to her dad, who was being helped to his feet by Remus, who looked pale and shaken but mercifully unharmed. "Are you okay?"
Her dad looked blindsided by the strange reaction. "I'm fine, Pup," he assured her. "You're the one who seems to be something of a mess right now. Are you okay?"
Tears filled her eyes again – she hadn't been sure she could do it. Hadn't been sure she could save him and change the future. But she'd done it. He was alive. He was okay. They were all going to be fine.
"Winnie," said her dad, looking truly concerned. She curled her arms around his waist without a word, squeezing herself to him, feeling the movement of his breath and the beat of his heart and letting it remind her he was alive. "What happened?"
Tears welled in her throat. "You didn't die."
She felt rather than saw his surprise. "Of course I didn't die," he laughed. As though it were some unthinkable thing; as though it hadn't, until two minutes ago, been his ultimate fate.
Remus was the first to put the pieces together. "Did you See something, Winnie?" he asked, voice low with trepidation. Almost like he wasn't sure he even wanted to know.
"Doesn't matter," she said, pulling back from her dad and scrubbing at her eyes again. She was sure they looked red and bloodshot, and she mentally slapped herself, trying to get it together. They couldn't afford for her to lose her shit over this – over something that wasn't. Not when so much was still yet to come.
"It does so matter," argued Sirius – a little childishly, but she'd expect nothing less.
Winona just shook her head. "Dad, you're alive," she said firmly. "That's all that matters."
He again looked rather like someone had thunked him over the head with something heavy. Winona smiled back, happy and a tiny bit vulnerable, and his look of shock melted into something warmer. He reached for her, catching a stray tear with his thumb, his smile gentle and sweet, and she'd never felt so relieved in her entire life. She wished she could capture this moment to live in forever.
The war might not have been over, but right now everyone was safe and alive. And even if they wouldn't be okay twenty minutes from now, or even twenty seconds, this moment was a good one. Harry was staring at her, his eyes too knowing, and she could tell with a swoop in her gut that he knew exactly what she'd been hiding.
We'll talk about it later, his green eyes seemed to say. She nodded once.
Her eyes caught on a pop of fuchsia on the other end of the room, finding Mad Eye propped up over an unconscious Tonks, doing his best to revive her. Neville was wiping at the blood still spilling down his front, and Remus looked so tired she thought he might keel over where he stood. It was still chaos – Kingsley and the other Aurors fighting against Bellatrix and the remaining Death Eaters, spells flying across the room with a flash and the promise of pain.
"We've got to help Kingsley," said Remus, though half his attention was locked onto where Tonks remained unconscious across the room. Concern was making him even more pale than usual.
"Go to Tonks," Winona ordered him. He blinked in surprise from where they were all crouched by the lip of the stairs – as safe as they could hope to be in this fight. "Harry and I have Bellatrix."
To her surprise, Remus didn't even argue, he just cast a quick Shield Charm and limped across the room towards where Tonks was still splayed on the floor. Sirius, however, wasn't so obedient. "No – Winnie, you and Harry – you have to get out of here-"
"Harry and I aren't the ones who nearly died," Winona spat, gripping his jacket in her fist and holding tight. "You need to get to safety."
He was exasperated now – and maybe a little annoyed. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Dad, you have no idea how close you came to death!" she shouted over a Death Eater's deafening roar and Dumbledore's voice ringing over it as he cast a curse to end him. Winona stared at where Kingsley was still going toe-to-toe with Bellatrix, only just barely holding his own. Winona felt rage, hot and hungry, begin to stir within her. She wasn't going to allow Bellatrix to get away with this. Not today. Not when her dad had come so close to falling through that archway and never, ever returning. "Please, just stay here," she begged him.
"Winnie-" he tried to argue, already stepping after her.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Winona shouted, and a jet of light slammed full-force into her dad. He went rigid as a log and fell unceremoniously to the floor. Harry gaped as if she'd just lost her marbles right in front of him. "I know," she muttered, barely casting her frozen father a glance. "He'll forgive me."
Harry looked like he doubted that very much, and Winona winced.
"Come on," she urged. "Kingsley can't hold Bellatrix on his own much longer."
He didn't need any more convincing. Wand held out, the two of them raced up the stairs and rejoined the battle. Bellatrix wasn't alone against Kingsley – a masked Death Eater was by her side, tossing curse after curse at Kingsley, who was left to deflect the attacks without any room to cast his own in return.
He didn't even have the time to shoot Winona a look of disapproval as she threw herself into the fight. Harry tossed a curse at the nameless Death Eater, who deflected it with a hiss, only to be caught unawares by Winona's Stunning Spell. It hit him with such force that he was thrown backwards. Whoever he was behind that mask, he hit the wall hard enough that Winona heard something crack even over the loud roar of battle.
Bellatrix turned on her with a snarl, but Winona didn't smile back like she might have under different circumstances. This woman had come terrifyingly close to murdering her dad. This woman had nearly broken everything Winona had built over these last years. Because if after all of this she lost Sirius – she wasn't sure there was any coming back from that. Not now.
Another Death Eater appeared then, not next to Bellatrix, but from behind. He threw himself at Kingsley, knocking the Auror off the dais and sending them both falling down the stairs. Then it was just Winona and Harry, facing off against Bellatrix alone. Winona felt no fear, only a deep, simmering hate that fuelled her magic like gasoline.
Bellatrix's wand move with such speed it was nearly a blur, and Winona realised with a start that despite their experience – despite even their months of training in the DA – neither she nor Harry were really a match for her. Not yet.
The curses she cast were vicious and powerful, and Winona yelped as one flew so close to her face that she felt the heat of it crackle and sting her cheek. "The Dark Lord wants you alive, Black Sheep," Bellatrix snarled as a blast of green light shot at them. Harry was first to throw up a shield but Winona flinched back from it anyway. "But he said nothing about leaving you unharmed."
Bellatrix shot a whip-fast curse at Harry, who leapt to the side and narrowly avoided it, then used their surprise as an opening to hurl a curse at Winona. She managed to throw up a shield of her own, but the spell had an unexpected direction to it, sliding off her shield and shooting towards the floor only to cut Winona in the side as it did.
For a moment, Winona felt nothing. Maybe it was the rage keeping her from the pain, or maybe it was such a clean cut that her nerves felt nothing at all. But she knew something had happened, because Bellatrix went still and a sharklike grin began to spread across her wicked face. Winona blinked, realising with some sense of confusion that she couldn't breathe. Her lungs weren't cooperating, and her side felt strangely wet.
The pain hit all at one, a burning agony down the side of her body. Her knees turned to jelly and collapsed out from under her. They hit the stone with a terrible crack that she didn't feel, all her attention on the bloody wound of her side. The only sounds reaching her ears was the rushing of her own blood and the delighted cackle from her evil, despicable cousin.
Then Harry was there, his familiar face swimming in her vision. He was saying something, but beyond the other sounds – the roaring and the screaming and the ringing that seemed to be coming from inside her head itself – she couldn't hear what. Winona watched as her own pale hand came up to press against her cousin's face, then frowned when her fingertips smeared crimson blood on his pale cheek.
"Lupin!" he seemed to be bellowing behind her, if her lip-reading was any good. "Lupin!"
Her hand dropped from her cousin's face to press against the wound that was burning something fierce. The pain was in her veins, like her blood itself was boiling beneath the skin. It hurt to touch it, but some distant part of her mind was recalling Muggle first-aid.
Apply pressure to the wound, she thought, but her fingertips were tingling and she had no strength in her hands. She was trembling all over, and she wasn't sure if Bellatrix was still cackling madly or if the sound was just playing, uninvited, on a loop inside her head. The world began to twist and turn, and it wasn't until the back of her skull cracked against the stone floor that she realised she'd been collapsing backwards.
Harry was gone, although Winona wasn't sure where. Then Remus was there, his face pale and full of fear in the low lighting. He was saying something, one hand on her face, the other pressing against her new wound. Winona thought that maybe she cried out in pain when he touched her, but over the rushing and pounding in her ears it was too difficult to tell.
She felt herself go cold and begin to lose her grip on consciousness. As she drifted, she wondered if this had always been the cost of changing the future. If the balance of the universe had to be restored, no matter what. If by saving one Black, she'd doomed another – herself – to death. Perhaps there was no choice but to level out the cosmic scales. She'd have liked a memo about that – even a post-it note wouldn't have gone astray.
Fucking aether.
Her sluggish mind flew to Fred. She wondered where he was – probably at their new premises, getting ready for opening day. She imagined he was happy, thinking all was right in the world. She wanted to tell him she was sorry they wouldn't get that wonderful future that had been the only thing within her happy enough to create a Patronus. She wanted to tell him that she loved him more than anything, and that she'd have given everything if it meant she could have kept her promise.
She wasn't afraid to die; not like she'd expected to be. She was more worried than anything else – she had too many people who would be sad. Too many people she hadn't been honest with about how she felt. She wished she had more time – but that was probably what everyone thought during their final moments. Unavoidable, really.
She faded from consciousness, but something kept her from drifting altogether. A vision, its colour and emotion flickering before her like a candle. Funny, that even now she was to be the universe's messenger. Even now she could not rest.
"Harry," she moaned. She'd lost feeling in her hands and feet, and Lupin's face hovering over hers was white with horror. "Harry…Voldemort…now…"
Remus shushed her. "Don't try to talk."
She tried to speak again, then coughed when the words clogged in her throat – or was that the blood? The cough sent white-hot agony rippling through her body, but she pushed beyond it. She would not be ruled by the pain. Not when she had something to say. "Shut up…and…listen," she ground out around the pain that rattled every nerve, every bone in her body. "Harry is…" she coughed again. "Near fountain…Voldemort…"
She blinked and suddenly Remus was gone, but Winona thought maybe her blink hadn't been quite so brisk. Instead Dumbledore was leaning over her, his deep blue eyes clear and intent. He was moving his wand over her body, murmuring some spell under his breath that she couldn't hear, let alone recognise.
"Voldemort," she told him even as feeling began to slowly return to her arms and legs. Dumbledore went utterly still. "Here," she croaked, coughing again and curling up against the pain it brought. "Harry. Save Harry."
Dumbledore muttered a final spell, then he too was gone, and there was nobody above her. It was just her, alone, fighting the darkness pressing in on her from every side. It had the claws of a great beast, gripping every part of her and dragging her down, down into the depths of a great lake. But this lake wasn't like her river of time.
This one had no current, no direction, no life. It was just still and silent, and as it forced her below its surface, she thought that maybe that endless quiet wasn't so bad after all, if it meant she would finally get to rest.
Fred and George were doing just fine in their new place of residence. It was clean and open and quiet, and they had all the space and time they needed to work on their inventions, and a whole store below their feet to fill with exciting new products. It was everything they had wanted for so many years – independence and the freedom to be creative – and yet as they worked, there was the unspoken knowledge that something was missing.
Or rather, someone.
There was an old armchair in the corner that they never used. George said it was too squashy to be comfortable, but Fred simply thought it wasn't theirs to use. He could picture Winnie sitting in it, wearing his old Quidditch jersey and some fluffy socks, her hair thrown up in a messy knot to keep it off her face, sketchbook open in her lap and her fingers stained a rainbow of colour.
He could still smell her on his clothes, though it faded with every day. He felt on edge, foot tapping while he took stock in the shop, teeth chewing on his tongue like he were waiting for her to burst through the door in a flurry of colour and activity.
He had a calendar stuck to the wall in the kitchen, the day of their class' graduation circled and underlined in red ink. George called him a pathetic sap for it, but Fred didn't care. Not when waking up and looking at that date every day gave him such warmth and hope.
Maybe the world was going to shit, and maybe everything would get worse before it got better (as Winnie was so fond of saying), but she was a bright flash in a storm, the flicker of light in the dark. And even if everything around them burned to ash, so long as she was there, maybe he'd survive that, too.
It was only a few days before that wonderful, circled date on the calendar when their fireplace roared to life and somebody stepped through. The twins had only just woken up – still clad in their pyjamas and squabbling over who had to go for a grocery run that afternoon – and they turned to look at their guest in surprise.
"Mum?" asked George, blinking in surprise.
Their mother hadn't been particularly…supportive of their decision to leave school and start the shop. Although they'd owled her their new address weeks ago, their mother still had yet to visit the little flat above their shop. To say that it was a surprise to find her in their living room at barely six in the morning on a Saturday would have been something of an understatement.
"You haven't come to shout, have you?" Fred asked warily from where he was all but inhaling a hot cup of tea. "We get it – we're a disappointment to the family and you wish were were more like Bill, or Charlie, or…" Fred trailed off, partly because it was strange that his mother had yet to interrupt, and partly because her face was dreadfully pale and wan, deep circles ringing her eyes.
"What is it?" George demanded, for which Fred was grateful. His voice was suddenly failing him.
Their mum opened her mouth, made a sort of choking sound, then shut it again and pressed a hand over her lips like she were trying to keep from being sick. "Mum," said Fred, voice hoarse and as hard as stone, even as his heart thumped like it were trying to escape something.
Her eyes were ringed with red, he realised. She'd been crying. His blood turned to ice.
"Fred, I – it's…" she stammered, eyes filling again with tears. "It's Winona," she finally managed to choke out. George sucked in a sharp breath of air, as if the words were a physical blow. Fred just stared, mug of tea still half-raised to his mouth, every muscle in his body locked in place.
The three of them stood there, not saying a word for several long, drawn-out moments.
"Is she alive?" Fred finally asked, surprised he sounded so calm when he felt anything but.
"Yes!" cried his mother, but with the way her eyes were watering, it wasn't much of a comfort. "Oh yes, she's alive – but, Fred, it-it isn't good," she confessed, lifting a trembling hand to her mouth again.
Feeling rather like he were having an out-of-body experience, Fred watched himself put down his mug and stand to his feet. "What happened?" he asked with that same preternatural calm.
"I-I'm not sure," his mum said, eyes flickering between him and George, who was also still, and didn't appear to have breathed since his gasp. "There was some sort of – incident. At the Ministry."
Fred swallowed around the lump in his throat. "The Ministry," he echoed tonelessly.
Mrs Weasley nodded shakily. "She's at St. Mungo's now," she told them. "Along with Tonks."
"Take me to her."
It was such a simple plea, but it was everything. It was the only thing.
His mother cast a glance at his patterned pyjamas. "Change into some proper clothes, first," she ordered him, a hint of that usual sternness flickering to life in her voice. "I won't have you sat at her bedside in golden snitch pyjamas, like a child."
It spoke volumes that Fred didn't even argue as he turned and walked numbly into his bedroom. He took note of nothing as he changed, as if it were somebody else controlling his body. He just knew he walked into his room in pyjamas and walked out of it dressed in Muggle jeans and a blue jumper.
George had changed, too, and they were already stood waiting at the fireplace. Their mother's eyes were still wet as she stepped into the flames and said in a weak voice, "St. Mungo's."
Fred went next, just as blind to his own actions as before. One moment he was in his flat, the next he was stepping out of the grate at St. Mungo's. There was no chaos, no bedlam, even though he'd been expecting it; had been expecting the entire world to be thrown into mayhem and panic because Winona Black was hurt.
George arrived last to find Fred and their mother already marching towards the stairs. Fred felt him fall into step beside them as they made their way up a level. Then another and another, until their mother finally left the stairs on the fourth floor, leading them down the corridor to the intensive-care unit.
Even though his mum had yet to stop walking, Fred looked into every room they passed, desperate for a glimpse of Winnie. He told himself over again and again that she would be okay – St. Mungo's was the best at what they did, and if they could save his father from the point of near-death, then why couldn't they do the same for Winnie? Finally their mother stopped outside a door. She hesitated a moment, then opened the door and waved them in.
Winnie was the first and only thing Fred saw. Everything else blurred to nothing as his entire being focused on the woman in the bed in the centre of the room. Her moonlight hair was tangled and matted with dried blood, and there was a thin cut running across her left cheekbone. It looked fresh, but he knew it wasn't the reason she was here.
He went to her side immediately, noticing only vaguely that somebody was already sitting in the chair there, but whoever they were stood to their feet and gestured for him to take it. Winnie's hand was cold to the touch. Fred's heart felt like it was squeezed in a vice. Her closed lids didn't even flicker at his touch, and he hated it.
She was right there but so far away; right there yet impossible to reach.
"What happened?" George asked quietly.
"There was a battle," said a new voice, and for the first time Fred realised it was Lupin in the room with them, looking haggard but ultimately none the worse for wear.
"A battle," George echoed, voice utterly devoid of humour.
"At the Department of Mysteries," Lupin said, flicking his wand to summon three extra chairs then waving for those still standing to sit. Fred's mother took the one by Winona's blanket-covered feet, while George ignored the chair entirely and moved to his best friend's other side.
He laid a gentle hand against her pale forehead, as though checking for a temperature, and Fred could almost see Winona's smirk, almost hear her tutting, Such a mother-hen, Georgie. Wanna hand-feed me some soup, next?
"Tell us everything," Fred was surprised to hear himself speak, but he was glad he did, because Lupin immediately began to explain.
He told them facts about the Order – facts Winona had known but was forbidden from telling them – about how Harry had been connected with You-Know-Who's mind all year, and that this was how he'd seen their dad get attacked at Christmas. He told them how You-Know-Who had sent Harry a false vision of Sirius getting attacked at the Ministry, to lure him there to retrieve something.
(Lupin wasn't specific on what, exactly, that something was, but Fred didn't particularly care if it wasn't directly related to how Winnie ended up laying before him, unconscious and pale as death.)
He told them that Harry had fallen for it and gone, along with six others – including Winnie – but that the Death Eaters had been waiting for them. The others had sustained injuries themselves, but nothing that Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal back at Hogwarts. It was a vague explanation at best, but it had enough of the details that Fred could piece the rest together himself.
Winnie's lips twitched into a scowl so brief he wondered if he'd imagined it. Reaching out, Fred gently dragged the tip of his knuckle down the length of her pallid face, as if to remind her he was there; as if to promise she wasn't alone, wherever she was.
"But that doesn't make sense. Why would she just let him go?" George asked. Fred didn't look away from Winnie, but felt his mum and Lupin glance to George in confusion. "If it was a setup, there was no way Winnie couldn't have known. And maybe she'd be stupid enough to walk into this knowing it wouldn't end well, but she'd have died before letting Harry walk into a trap."
"We can ask her when she wakes up, dear," said their mother placatingly.
But Lupin was frowning hard enough, silently enough, that Fred looked up at him shrewdly. "You know," he said. Not a question, but an accusation.
To his credit, Lupin didn't so much as wince. "I believe she had a vision that Sirius was going to be killed," he revealed in a quiet voice, so soft that Fred had to strain to hear. Fred and his brother's eyes snapped to Lupin with enough panic that he held up his hands to reassure them. "Sirius is fine…thanks to Winnie."
"She saved him?" asked their mother, once again lifting a shaking hand to her lips. "That's why she's…?"
"She managed to save Sirius just in time. A second later and I don't doubt they'd both be dead," said Lupin baldly, only a flicker in his tired eyes betraying the pain that thought caused him.
Fred gripped Winnie's hand even tighter. It was so small, limp and cold in his. It didn't even feel like her hand, but rather a stranger's. Some stranger who'd stood on the wrong end of a bad curse.
"Once she'd saved her father, she put him in a Full Body-Bind Curse so he couldn't move, then she and Harry went to help Kingsley fight Bellatrix Lestrange."
Fred and George gave matching winces at the thought, but Lupin's answering smile was both grim and proud.
"They fought brilliantly, the two of them. It was sheer bad luck that Bellatrix's Severing Charm managed to sneak around her shield."
Fred could swear his heart stopped beating entirely, turning to stone in his chest. "Severing Charm?" he demanded, eyes dropping to her body, counting the number of hands and feet in a panic.
"Got her here," said Lupin calmly, reaching out with a finger to hover over her abdomen. "Dumbledore was able to fix it well enough that we could get her here in one piece. The healers were able to heal it quickly, but she lost a lot of blood. They woke her up long enough to take a Blood-Replenishing Potion, then let her go back under. She needs the rest."
Fred's eyes didn't stray from Winnie's face. "And the wound's healed entirely?"
For a moment Lupin said nothing, and Fred feared the worst until he said, "The healers said there'll be a scar."
Relief like a drug, Fred brought Winona's hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over her chilled knuckles. "That's okay," he said, feeling both in the room with them and an entire world away. He wondered if that was how Winnie felt, whenever she had a vision. Like she existed in two places at once. "She likes scars."
Silence filled the room, but Fred barely noticed.
"Sirius is okay?" George asked, easing the tension Fred had allowed to appear.
Lupin nodded. "Fuming that he can't be here with her, but after everything that happened, he can't be seen out in public. Not even as Snuffles."
"And Harry?"
"Reluctantly sent back to school, along with the others – including your brother and sister."
Fred looked up with raised brows to find his mother sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "They're okay," she assured them. "I've already been to see them in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Ginny had a broken ankle, but Madam Pomfrey healed it in a flash. Ron seemed a little loopy from whatever – whatever they faced down there," she sniffled again, "but she assured me that he only needs to sleep it off."
It was still strange that she was here, crying over Winnie, when both Ron and Ginny had been in the fight, too.
His mum noticed Fred's eyes on her and admitted in a tiny voice, "It was very close, Fred. It's pure luck that she's still alive. Bellatrix's spell only missed her vital organs by a matter of millimetres."
Fred swallowed around a throat that felt like sandpaper. "When will she wake up?"
A beat. "They don't know," Lupin gently told him, as though to soften the blow. "She's had some Dreamless Sleep Potion, but that's just a precaution. They said it could take a day or two for her body to get over the trauma."
Fred reached out to brush his fingertips along her sharp, pale cheekbone. "Okay," he said, still feeling half in the room and half a million miles away. "Then I'll wait here until she does."
George and Lupin exchanged looks from behind him, but he ignored them. A hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up to see Lupin smiling down at him grimly. "Sirius will be relieved to know you're here looking after her," he told Fred in his usual, quiet way. "I'll come back in the morning, to check in."
Fred nodded as Lupin said his goodbyes to George and their mum, before he took his leave. The three of them were left alone, his mum still dabbing at her eyes. Silence reigned for a few long minutes, but Fred was so focused on the sound of Winona's breathing that he barely noticed.
"I'll be back," said George suddenly.
Their mum looked up, confused. "Where are you going?"
George's smile was secretive. "You'll see."
With a final clap of his brother's shoulder George slipped from the room, leaving Fred and their mother alone. "Is this the sort of surprise I'm going to like?" she asked Fred nervously, probably because such a thing was a rare occurrence, even on a good day.
"Winnie will like it," said Fred, a small smile blooming to life at the thought of her reaction. "And that's all that matters."
It was both an affirmation to Winnie and an insult to his mum, and she was sharp enough to see it. They sat in silence another few minutes, a clock in the corner ticking on to mark the passing of time.
"Fred I-" his mum began, only to stop herself. Unsure what she was trying to say, Fred looked up warily. "I'm sorry about…about how I reacted – about you leaving school, and starting the shop." He was surprised by the apology, staring back speechlessly. "I hope you know that all I – all I want is for you and George to succeed, and be happy."
He tried to smile but ultimately failed to pull it off. "I know."
Seeming to sense that now wasn't the time to discuss it, his mother nodded and fell silent. Fred went back to counting Winona's breaths, tracing patterns on the back of her hand like she did on his chest as they lay in bed. His mother, however, was hardly so at ease with the quiet.
"She – she makes you very happy," she said, voice trembling a little with the force of her emotion. He could only pray to Merlin she wasn't going to cry again. "Winona, I mean," she added, as though it wasn't obvious. "She's made you happy ever since the day you met her."
He thought of that brazen little girl, with wild moonlight hair and fire burning in her eyes as she stared down a kid twice her size without an ounce of fear. "Yes," he told his mum honestly. Then, because it was true, "And more so with every day since."
His mum sniffled again, and something about it was so typical that he couldn't help but smile. What she said next, however, had him freezing in place. "You're going to marry her one day, aren't you, Fred?"
Once he'd recovered from the blunt shock of the question, Fred glanced up at his mother with the beginnings of a smile on his mouth. "I'm going to try."
"You think she won't say yes?"
"I think she'll be stubborn about it," he said fondly, still stroking nonsense into the skin of Winnie's hand. "She's stubborn about everything, so I doubt this will be any different. And from what she's told me, these next few years aren't going to be…easy," he said, thinking that it was something of an understatement. "But through it all, we'll find time," he finished, knowing it was true. Because he was going to do everything in his power to make it so.
His mum sniffled again. "She's always been like a daughter to me," she said, the words watery and squeaked. "I'd be thrilled to make it official."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Well, don't go saying anything about it," he warned her. "And no rushing me. It'll happen as it happens, all in good time."
His mum reached out then, placing her hand over his where it was still holding tight to Winnie's. He met him mum's eye for the first time since they'd entered the room. She was smiling at him happily, her kind eyes lined with silver. Fred let go of Winnie long enough to squeeze his mum's hand in return.
George walked in then, a large bunch of colourful balloons trailing in his wake, and an oversized stuffed bear cradled like a baby in his arms. Their mum pulled back and dabbed at her eyes once more, but finally seemed to gain some control over her weepiness.
Instead she peered up at George shrewdly. "What's all this, then?"
"Phase one," said George plainly. Their mother only stared and George sighed heavily, like the only genius in a field full of morons. "Fred, explain."
"When she wakes up, Winnie's going to…well, she won't react pleasantly to where she is," he explained, casting his twin a smile buzzing with gratitude that was batted away as if to say, Shut up, this is for Winnie. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. "She's never liked hospitals – she had a few bad experiences growing up. She especially doesn't like the way everything's so white. Sometimes she says her nightmares are just filled with white – like an empty canvas stretched on forever."
Their mother began to understand. "So you're filling the room with colour," she said softly, a smile growing on her face. Fred smiled back.
"If there's one thing Winnie loves," he said warmly, stroking a finger across the rainbow of paint still staining her hand, "it's colour."
George was just finishing up arranging the balloons in the corner when their mum stood to her feet. "I should get home – update your father on Winona's condition. He was worrying himself sick," she added in an undertone, tutting and shaking her head, as though she hadn't been a sobbing mess not ten minutes ago. "We'll come visit soon. I know the others will want to see her."
Fred watched as their mum stood to leave, but then seemed to think differently and turned to the bare table at Winona's bedside. She hesitated, lost in thought, then withdrew her wand to cast a wordless charm.
A large bunch of flowers bloomed from nothing, a messy but stunning mash of every colour in the rainbow – a more beautiful conjuring job than even Fred could have ever achieved. He looked at his mum in surprise, watching as she pocketed her wand then bent to press her lips gently to Winnie's forehead.
She kissed both of them next, then hurried from the room before emotion could again overtake her. George collapsed into her empty chair and heaved a sigh of relief. They were glad for their mum – glad for her company and support, hard though it was to win – but there was something about it just being the three of them that was comforting and familiar.
This was how it always was; how it should always be. George, Winnie and Fred. A trio to rival that of their brother's. Fred wasn't a man of peace, but he thought this might be as close as he'd ever come.
"She'll be all right, mate," George spoke quietly into the silence, the words careful but full of easy confidence. "You heard what they said. She's just sleeping."
"Yeah," said Fred, and left it at that. "You should head back to the shop. We've got heaps to do before our grand opening, not to mention owl orders up to our necks-"
"We're taking a day," George replied, not missing a beat. "We've been working hard, Fred. Having one day off won't kill us. Besides, you're mental if you think I'm leaving her side. You're not the only one who cares, you dolt."
Fred smiled, feeling a gratitude for his twin that he'd scarcely felt before. He'd never stopped to think about what it meant that his girlfriend was also his brother's best friend, but now that he did, he realised it meant Winnie would always have a Weasley twin protecting her – no matter what the future held. If one of them couldn't be there, the other would. It was comforting, knowing that whilst heading face-first into a war. Fred was under no illusions; this was a dangerous time to be living in the world. And even more specifically, it was a dangerous time to be involved with the Potter family.
But it was nice to know, should the worst happen, Winona would have George looking out for her, no matter what.
"Shall I fetch something to eat?" George offered. "We never had breakfast."
Fred shook his head. "I'm not hungry."
"I'll see if they have any of those apple turnovers you like so much," George said knowingly, already halfway out the door. "I'll grab you a hot chocolate while I'm at it! With extra marshmallows!"
Fred could only bring Winnie's frightfully cold knuckles to his lips, smiling against her skin and waiting impatiently for time to pass.
When Winona woke up, it was to a foggy head and the smell of apples filling the room. Someone was talking nearby, but when Winona tried to open her mouth to tell them to shut up she found her mouth dry as a desert and her throat alight with pain. Whoever it was continued to talk, their voice grating against her nerves.
Winona finally managed to get ahold of herself long enough to mutter, "Ugh, would you shut up already?"
Pleasantly warm laughter, then a smooth hand grasping hers. She heard another voice say, "I'll fetch the healer."
"Winnie," came Fred's voice in her ear – the voice she'd recognise anywhere and any-when. The voice she'd recognise even if she were deaf. "Can you open your eyes for me?" he asked gently.
It took some effort – the claws of sleep had dug in tight, threatening to pull her under its surface again. But finally she managed to open them, but her eyes felt like sandpaper when she blinked up at Fred blearily. He was smiling, although he looked unusually pale and tired.
She frowned as she reached up with weak hands to scrub at the sleep in her eyes. "What happened?"
"You got in a showdown with You-Know-Who's Death Eaters," came another familiar voice – George. She looked to her left to find him reclined lazily in a chair, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand and a haggard look on his face. "An invitation wouldn't have gone astray, y'know? A simple note saying 'breaking into the Department of Mysteries – chaos will ensue' would have gone a long way."
"I, for one, am terribly disappointed we missed out on all the fun," agreed Fred, his voice light while his eyes and his grip on her hand was anything but.
Two people swept into the room, then. Bill she recognised, the other she didn't. A woman with wheat coloured hair in white and green robes. It took an extra moment for her to realise what that meant – and where she was – before she was scrambling backwards in her bed.
No – not her bed at all – a cot, in a hospital. She was in the hospital.
Fred's hands braced on her shoulders in an effort to keep her from moving, but the damage was already done. She cried out in pain, hands shooting to the left side of her torso, where pain stabbed and ached and burned.
The nameless healer tutted. "No sudden movements, Miss Black," she said, pulling out her wand and waving it over Winona's body. "We've healed all the serious damage, but the laceration was deep enough that it's still going to be tender for a few days."
Her heart was racing; her body felt rigid and sore all over. But she forced herself not to move again – mostly just because it really did hurt like a bitch.
"We'll keep you another few hours, just to be safe, but then we'll discharge you into your family's care," the medi-witch continued briskly. "Any pain besides the side?" Winona shook her head no, and the woman nodded once. "Ring the bell if you need anything."
With that she was gone, leaving Winona alone in the room with the twins and Bill, who stood off to the side, looking just slightly out of place. But before she could comment on it, Fred took her jaw in his hands and brought her lips to his in a swift but heartfelt kiss. "You're okay?" he asked, pulling back, leaving just enough room between them to speak.
"I'm alive," she replied mildly.
George was there, then, leaning down to gently kiss her temple and ruffle her hair. "I wasn't kidding about missing an invitation. I'll be sore about that one for weeks," he warned her.
"Bet I'll be sorer," she murmured. George smiled apologetically and she pinched his side in response. Her throat was still on fire, but before she could so much as mention it, Fred was there with a glass of water. She took it and drank slowly, the cool water like its own sort of magic against her aching throat. "Harry? My dad? The others?" she asked once the glass was empty and she felt a few degrees more alive.
"Everyone's alive and accounted for," George reassured her. "The kids are all back in Hogwarts, Lupin and your dad are hiding out back at headquarters. Tonks is here, though. Just a bad Stunner. Last I heard, she was awake and getting ready to be discharged."
Winona allowed herself to relax back into the puffy pillows of her hospital cot. "And dad's-"
"Pissed as hell that he can't be here – for obvious reasons," said Bill, stepping forwards and reaching out a long arm. Winona took his outstretched hand and weakly squeezed, his warm, callused skin familiar and comforting. "Also said something about giving you hell for a Full-Body-Bind Curse?"
"Yeah," she winced at the thought, "I knew he wasn't gonna love me for that one."
"What happened?" asked George, leaning forwards.
"You don't already know?"
"Not from your point of view," said Fred. Winona opened her mouth to explain, but a healer dragging a noisy cart passed by the open door, and she shut her mouth promptly. The look she sent Fred told him that what she had to say wasn't safe for public spaces. He got the message loud and clear, nodding his head. "When we get you home, then."
She frowned, the words giving her pause. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts?"
"Graduation's in a week, so you can go back for that," George explained. "But we assumed you'd wanna go home, see your dad and Lupin and everyone."
Winona opened her mouth to agree, but what came out surprised her. "I'll go home to visit dad and the others. But then…I think I wanna go back. To Hogwarts, I mean. For the week until graduation."
The twins exchanged one of their looks. "You do?"
"It's going to be my last week there as a student," she told them quietly. "I – I don't want to miss it."
She finished with a sheepish shrug, but the twins seemed to understand. Bill shifted where he stood, tucking his hands into his pockets with a smile. "I'm going to head back to Headquarters and let them know you're awake and coming home for the day. Your dad'll be relieved."
"Thanks, Bill," she said gratefully.
He shrugged. "Anytime."
With Bill gone, it was just her and the twins. And when George's expression hardened into a look of deep disapproval, Winona knew what was coming. "I was serious about that invite, you know?" he informed her darkly. "Why in the name of Merlin's left nut wouldn't you tell us?!"
"It was dangerous," she argued weakly.
George reached out wicked fast, flicking her hard on the nose. She yelped and jerked backwards, scrubbing at her nose and meeting his glare with one of her own. "I don't care how dangerous it was," he said, more stern than she'd ever heard. "You send for us. Always. You hear?"
She opened her mouth to argue some more, but then Fred squeezed her hand and she realised they were just scared for her. She'd worried them, and really, if she reversed the situation and it was them running headfirst into danger without her, she'd be proper pissed. So, really, she couldn't blame them.
"Sorry," she sighed, because she really was sorry for upsetting them, but she had no plans to make any promises she knew she couldn't keep.
The twins exchanged a glance, speaking without words, then they nodded as one. "Fine," said George, a tad petulant. "But if this happens again…" he added threateningly, wagging a finger in her face.
"I very much doubt this is going to happen again."
"But can you guarantee it?" he demanded. She couldn't, not even knowing (some of) the future, and he knew it. "Aha," he said, bopping her on the nose, this time more gently. She made another face at him but otherwise didn't argue. "I'm going to go get us some warm drinks," George continued smoothly, the squabble ended as swiftly as it had begun. "Tea or coffee, Win?"
"I'll have a chai, please," she said with her sweetest smile.
George's only answer was a roll of his eyes before he disappeared out the door, leaving her and Fred alone. His hand hadn't left hers once and Winona gripped him now, threading their fingers together, feeling his warmth against her. He leant closer and she leant into him too, close enough to inhale his scent – all gunpowder and spun sugar and freshly cut grass.
His cheek was stubbly when it brushed against hers, and she pulled back to look at him in surprise, running her fingertips down the rough length of his long jaw. "How long have I been out?"
He frowned, and she realised he looked terribly drawn. Her fingers trailed higher up his face, tracing over the bags under his clear blue eyes. When he swallowed, his Adam's apple dipped with the motion. "Just under two days."
"Blimey," she murmured. He nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, but mostly he just looked tired. "Have you slept at all?"
"Caught a few hours upright in this chair," he confessed.
She clicked her tongue in disapproval, then shuffled over on her cot. It hurt to move her body, which ached something fierce, but she was determined in her task. Fred didn't bother protesting as he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed with her. His arm cradled her gently as she tucked herself into his side. He was warm where the air was cool, and she breathed him in again like an addict.
Fred sighed with relief at being horizontal, relaxing back into the pillows. Winona smiled into his worn fabric of his shirt. "Are you going to make me promise not to do anything like this again, too?" she wondered, beginning to trace meaningless patterns onto his chest. He sighed again, curling around her just a little bit tighter.
"Nah," he said into her hair. "There's no point. Besides, I love all of you – stubborn recklessness included." She pressed her lips together to smother a happy-but-tired grin, nuzzling into him some more. "I'd appreciate some warning, though," he added thoughtfully. "Y'know, rather than my mother Flooing into our flat to give me a bloody heart attack."
"Sorry," she said again. A moment of silence passed, and she kept tracing patterns over the expanse of his chest. "I've missed you," she eventually whispered, because it was a truth she couldn't help but share.
"I've missed you more," he insisted, holding just a little tighter. They faded back into silence for another long few minutes, and although she'd been asleep almost two whole days, Winona still found herself nearly dozing off to the calm beat of his beautiful heart. But she was pulled from her nap by Fred's voice. "Did you have a vision Sirius was going to die?"
Winona went rigid at the blunt question, and it took more than a moment for her to remind herself that she'd done it, she'd succeeded, her dad was alive-
"He's really okay?" she asked, almost not even daring to hope.
"I haven't seen him myself, but Lupin, Bill and Mum all told me they have, and that he's fine," Fred assured her. She breathed another heavy sigh, feeling nearly dizzy with relief. Fred gently nudged her and she hid the way it made her want to wince in pain. "What happened, Win?"
So she told him – how she'd had the vision at the beginning of the school year, and how she'd known it was all leading to this. That she hadn't known how to save him except to let it play out and just swoop in to save her dad at the most crucial moment.
"But why not just tell Harry that Sirius wasn't there?" George asked sometime later, having returned with their drinks and eagerly listening to all the details of her recklessness. "Surely that would be an easier way to save him, wouldn't it? Just avoid the fight altogether?"
Winona shook her head. "Do you have a copy of today's Prophet?"
George held up a finger, disappearing out the door and returning a few moments later with that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. His eyes were wide with shock as he read it while walking into the room.
"What?" asked Fred, instantly at alert.
George handed over the paper as if on auto-pilot. Fred snatched it before Winona could, then straightened it out and held it for them both to read.
"Holy shit," said Fred bluntly, staring at a sheepish and scowling Fudge on the front page of the Prophet, with the words 'YOU-KNOW-WHO, RETURNED' stamped in massive lettering atop the moving image.
"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord – well, you know who I mean," Fred stopped reading long enough to mutter, "Bloody coward," then continued on, "is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord- Thingy. We urge the magician population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month.
"The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more. Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening."
Winona took the paper from him, flipping through until she found the next section. "Lucius Malfoy sentenced to Azkaban," read George over her shoulder. "Blimey."
"So, you see?" Winona asked, letting George steal back the paper to scan. "I had to let events unfold. The world had to know Voldemort was back, and by letting things happen as they were meant to, it ensured they did. Plus, half his most loyal Death Eaters got locked up, Harry's no longer public enemy number one, and Dumbledore's reinstated as a member of the Wizengamot. All I had to change was one thing – my dad's death."
"But won't saving him mean other things won't happen as they're…er…destined to?" Fred asked, trying very hard to use her lingo.
Winona smiled even as she pressed a hand to the aching pull at her side. "Probably. But all I know is this was the most efficient way to bring about the beginning of this war."
The twins stared at her in alarm. "The beginning of this war?" echoed George, a tad shrill. "You want it to start?"
"The sooner it begins," she told them patiently, "the sooner it all ends."
Neither Fred nor George had a good answer to that, seeing the truth in her words. The healer on her case dropped by an hour later, rousing Winona and Fred from a light doze while George did the crossword in the paper. The healer shot them a reprimanding look for sharing the bed, but said nothing, for which Winona was grateful.
The healer gave her a full scan, then did a few quick physical pokes and prods to ensure everything had healed as it should, then sent her on her way with a list of over-the-counter potions she could take if the pain was too bad, along with orders not to do anything too strenuous for at least a week and a half.
The latter was said with a stern glance at Fred, whose arm was still wrapped securely around Winona's waist. Instead of freezing, Fred only grinned and winked confidently – though even he couldn't quite hide the way the tips of his ears flamed red.
George waited outside while Fred helped Winona out of her cotton hospital robes. Once it was off, Fred froze, staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights, but it wasn't because of her nakedness. She followed his line of sight to her injured torso, sucking in a sharp breath at what she found.
A long, ugly scar stretched from just below the side of her left breast, cutting down along the smooth skin of her stomach and ending just an inch below her belly button. Her fingers shook as she lifted her hand, gently trailing her fingertips down the length of the new scar.
"They said it would be permanent?" she asked quietly, a deep furrow in her brow.
Fred caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to look at him. "You are beautiful," he declared fervently, as if it were a truth in this life, along with gravity and the existence of the sun in the sky. "Scars and all."
She smiled, pushing up onto her toes with only minor difficulty to kiss him.
"Thank you," she said, gently dropping back down to the flats of her feet with love blooming like wildflowers in her chest. She pulled on the clothes her dad had given Bill to bring to her – a pair of ratty jeans and one of his old band teeshirts from when he was her age. She dressed as quickly as she could, eager to be out of the hospital. The colours the twins had filled her room with helped a lot, but just being there made her pulse race and her neck prickle with unease. She really hated hospitals, the way they were too-bright and always reeked of disinfectant and death.
"You handled this well," said Fred as he shrunk the balloons in the corner and Winona gently picked up the bunch of rainbow flowers on her bedside table. "The whole hospital thing, I mean."
"All the colour helped," she admitted. "Thank you, by the way. Besides; you were with me the whole time. How could I be afraid?"
He kissed her temple and that was that. George met them at the reception where she sluggishly signed her release forms, then they went straight for the Floo.
The Floo jostled and hurt her wound, but she bit back a groan of pain as she stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was empty apart from Remus and her dad, the former sitting calmly in a chair reading the paper, the latter all but wearing a hole in the floor.
When he saw her materialise, Sirius rushed towards her, only to stop a metre away with his arms outstretched, as if worried to hurt her. "Hi, Dad," she said quietly, putting the flowers down and stepping into his arms.
Sirius let out a loud sigh of relief, clutching her against him, one hand cradling the back of her head as though she were still a baby. He pulled far enough away to look at her face, assessing her despite knowing next to nothing about healing magic.
"You're okay?" he asked as the Floo flared green and Fred appeared, George not far behind.
"I'm all right."
He gestured to her torso. "Can I see…?"
"It's just a scar," she said dismissively. "It's nothing. I'll be a little sore these next few days, but I'm okay." Remus had climbed to his feet, so Winona extracted herself from her dad's hold to allow the nerdy werewolf to pull her into a gentle embrace. "How's Tonks?"
"Much better," he assured her with a soft smile. "She got out yesterday. She's at home with her parents – resting."
"As you should be," piped Sirius. Winona turned to raise an eyebrow in his direction. "Well, there's only a week left of school. I already spoke to Dumbledore – with all your exams over with, you can stay here and just go back for graduation-"
"Dad, honestly, thank you," she interrupted him. "But I need to go back, just for these last few days. I'm going to…I'll miss it, once it's gone. I want to savour the end."
Sirius stared at her for a few long moments, eyes narrowed and assessing. Finally he sighed. "I can't convince you to stay, can I?"
She smiled. "It's only a week. Once I graduate, I'll come straight back here."
Remus and her dad exchanged a look and Winona knew another round of explanations was about to occur. She looked to Fred and George, who were stood back watching, the latter arranging the bunch of balloons in the corner.
"Would you be darlings and put on some tea?" she asked hopefully. "I've got a lot to explain."
And so she did. Sat at the table in the kitchen of her family's home, Winona told Remus and Sirius everything, from the vision she'd had of Sirius dying, to her realisation that she had to let events unfold as they would, in order to get things to where they were now – the Minister admitting to Voldemort's existence and half the bastard's most loyal Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban.
Her dad was understandably shaken by what she had to say; although more so because of her near-death experience than the fact she'd Seen him die. Remus was quiet, stirring his tea long after all the sugar had dissolved, staring between the two of them wearily.
"Did Dumbledore know?" Sirius asked once she was finally done, her throat raw and her side a flare of fire.
"Not about you. I had to keep that close to the chest. I couldn't risk changing things so much that the future shifted before I could save you."
Sirius nodded, the look in his eyes distant.
"Sorry for worrying you," she added quietly.
He waved a hand in her direction. "Between you and Harry, I'm going to go grey," he joked, but there was legitimate worry in his eyes.
"Speaking of Harry, have you spoken to him?"
"Dumbledore let me Floo to his office yesterday."
"And he's okay?"
"He's fine," he assured her. "A little shaken up, but fine. Worried about you, of course."
The words were simple, but there was a weary exhaustion to his grey eyes that made Winona suspicious. She glanced to Remus, who looked grave at the mention of Harry, and she realised what had happened – or rather, what Dumbledore would have done upon rescuing Harry from the Ministry.
"Dumbledore told him, didn't he?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "About the prophecy."
The two old friends exchanged another look, then nodded as one. "Harry knows everything," said Sirius, and while he looked grim about it, he also looked relieved. It was one less secret to keep from him. One less barrier between them all.
"Thank Merlin," murmured Winona, collapsing back in her chair, then wincing when it pulled at the fresh scar marring her abdomen.
"He's going to want to speak to you," said Remus quietly.
She knew that was true. "I should head back to Hogwarts," she said, climbing slowly to her feet to avoid hurting her already-aching wound. "I want to check on Harry and the others."
"You want to leave already?" asked Sirius, shooting to his feet with dismay written across his familiar face. "You only just got here, Pup. You should rest some more."
She was shaking her head before he'd even finished. "I really need to see Harry. Not to mention, I have things to discuss with Dumbledore."
She could tell they wanted to ask what those things were, but was relieved when they didn't, seeming to sense she wouldn't – couldn't – tell them the truth. Remus stood as well, folding his copy of the Prophet and tucking it under his arm. "I'll go check in with Nymphadora," he said, casting Winona one of his kind, gentle smiles. "She'll be relieved to hear you're back on your feet."
"Give her a kiss for me," Winona said, a flicker of teasing in her eyes.
Remus blinked, cheeks going a near-unnoticeable pink. Sirius smirked widely and Winona reached out to squeeze his hand. Remus made a face but seemed to decide against a snarky retort as he left the room with a nod in the twins' direction. Fred and George turned to look at her, and with a single glance she had them tidying up the table and wandering across the basement to the kitchen, where they made themselves busy rinsing out their used teacups, leaving Winona alone with her dad.
They were still standing, and Sirius stared at her without any of his usual walls up, the look in his eyes haunted. A ghost of a person, full of decades-old pain. She wished she knew how to help him heal, but she knew the only thing that could truly do that was time.
"Thanks for saving my life," he said, the first to speak.
Winona snorted then wince at the pain that flared across her middle. "Yeah, well, come on. As if I was going to let you kick the bucket."
Sirius smiled, but it was a sad thing to behold. "Sorry I couldn't be with you – in St. Mungo's, I mean," he said, something like shame pulling at his shoulders, making him hunch. He cast a bitter glance at the dingy kitchen around them. "I might be alive, but I'm still stuck in this damned house. As much a prisoner as I was in Azkaban."
"I might have a plan for that," she admitted.
"You do," he said, not a question but a skeptical statement, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"I need to get back to Hogwarts," she replied. "But for now…just trust me?"
Sirius hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before finally he sighed and some of the heavy tension drained from the tense set of his shoulders. "Always," he vowed.
Winona stepped around the table to pull him into a hug. Just the fact that he was alive was a miracle. That vision she'd had of him dying had felt so concrete in her head that it had almost become a certainty. But here he was, standing and breathing and talking and laughing. He was alive, because of her.
But Winona knew her work wasn't done yet. Because he was right; despite being alive, he was as much a prisoner as he was three years ago. She couldn't let it stand.
"I'll see you back here in a week?" she asked instead of speaking any of her secret thoughts aloud.
"I'm coming to your graduation," he told her. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words fell dead on her tongue at the familiar, stubborn glint in his sea-storm eyes. "I'll go as Snuffles," he added, seeing her concern. "But it's held on Hogwarts' grounds, so I'll be as safe as can be expected. And don't bother arguing, Pup. The only way I'm missing it is if I drop dead between now and then."
She punched him weakly on the shoulder. "Don't even joke."
He nodded solemnly even as laughter glittered in his eyes. "I'll see you there."
"See you there."
Her goodbyes to Fred and George were short and sweet. It was hard to say goodbye, but knowing it was only for a week made it easier than it had been when they'd left school the month before. She hugged George tight, kissing him on the cheek and giving a whispered order to keep an eye on her boyfriend. Pulling away, George gave a playful salute.
Both he and Sirius pointedly turned to talk with one another when Fred approached her, and she took advantage of their distraction to grab Fred by the front of his jacket and drag him into a thorough snog.
They pulled back dazed, and she smiled up at him from under her lashes. "I love you," she told him, all that really needed to be said.
"I love you," he echoed, and she'd never heard anything that sounded so honest. Like a secret meant only for her and the whole world.
She smiled. "I'll see you at graduation?"
"A herd of angry centaurs couldn't stop me."
She bit down on a happy smile, the feeling warm like a fire in her chest. But then it was time to go. She took some of the Floo powder from the pot next to the fireplace, threw it into the flames and took her final journey back to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore was waiting for her in his office when she materialised out of the flames, probably warned of her arrival by one of his many portrait spies. He was dressed in flowing golden robes covered in tiny embroidered suns, his ever-present half-moon spectacles sat low on his nose.
"Welcome back, Winona," he said in his deep, steady voice. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Dumbledore lifted a hand to stop her. "Harry is in the Hospital Wing with the rest of your friends. We'll go see them momentarily."
Relief hit her hard at just hearing Harry was here, safe and okay. Winona slumped against the closest chair with a wince at the pull on her scar.
"How are you feeling?" he continued, taking a seat in the chair next to her, his blue eyes bright and alert.
"Like I've been hit by a train," she confessed, because if there was anyone she couldn't lie to, it was Dumbledore – though not for lack of want. "I've been sleeping for days, and yet I'm still tired."
"Sleep is a sort of restorative magic that not even a trained healer can match," he said sagely.
"What happened?" she asked before he could go off on a tangent about the benefits of a good night's sleep. "After I was hit, I mean. I read the paper but I'm not sure how accurate the article was, given that it's, y'know, the Daily Prophet."
Dumbledore told her what had happened after she'd passed out from her wounds – how Harry had seen her bloodied and still on the floor and run after Bellatrix in a blind rage. How they'd fought, but Voldemort had arrived before either could win. How Dumbledore had then duelled with Voldemort, until the racist bastard had possessed Harry in a terrifying show of power.
As he spoke, Winona gripped the arms of her chair so tight her hands began to ache – but she couldn't help it, terror seizing her heart like a pair of white-hot hands.
The Minister and a good chunk of Ministry personnel had arrived just moments before Voldemort vanished, leaving Fudge with no choice but to publicly admit to the Dark Lord's return – and his own panicked denials. There was some satisfaction to be had over that, but most of her energy was spent on worrying about Harry.
"Dad told me that you told Harry the truth about…everything," she said quietly.
Dumbledore had the decency to look at least a little ashamed. "It was a conversation well overdue."
"Damn right," she muttered under her breath, but she didn't doubt the old warlock still heard. "How did he take it?"
"He was stunned," the Headmaster admitted. "Frightened, I think, though he didn't admit it."
He watched her, seeming to be expecting her to say something, but instead she changed the subject. "I've had a thought about my dad's…circumstances."
That managed to surprise him, white eyebrows shooting upwards on his wrinkled forehead. "Is that so?"
"Well, now that Voldemort's return is public knowledge, my guess is that things at the Ministry – and in the world – are going to be getting, er, hectic."
"I believe so."
Winona swallowed around a throat that was suddenly far too dry. "Well, do you think it would help to have a…a woman on the inside?" she asked hoarsely. "Someone in the Minister's back pocket, who knew his decisions before he even made them?"
Dumbledore was quiet for a long stretch, assessing her with those calculating eyes, before finally he leaned forwards in his chair, hands steepled in front of him, and said very calmly, "I'm listening."
A/N: Hey guys! So sorry I've been gone a few weeks – I've been very busy writing, both this story and several others. I've got some very cool things in the works that will hopefully be coming out sooner rather than later.
Anyway, I really hope you liked this chapter. Thank you all so much for your continued support of this story. I say this all the time, but it really does mean the world to me. I can't promise more frequent updates, but hopefully I make up for that in content.
Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts; at the end of the day, they're a writer's fuel, and I'm no exception. You're all amazing, and I've loved chatting with you all on both here and on various social media. I'll see you all soon with another new chapter!
Review of the Week: TurnToBlueSky – first of all, thank you for such kind words! Second of all, thank you for all the work you do as a med student. People like you are the backbone of the world at the moment, and I wish there was more I could give you to repay it than just my thanks, but you have them all the same. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and all the ones to come!