I forgot for a few days. Here I am. Have a chapter. Happy birthday.

"I'm telling you, it was Harry, Hermione, and Ron!"

"Your brother must be mistaken."

"No, I heard people talking about it!"

"Rumours spiral, Fred. I trust you did hear it, but unless you got this information from the source, I certainly would not believe it. I understand how much you want to believe it, I really do, but that rumour has no ground."

"But—"

"Fred, I'm sorry." Remus smiled softly. "I've already had this conversation with Angelina and George, and they both agreed it was probably a baseless rumour. If you feel you need to discuss it more, my door is always open."

Fred sighed, but he shook his head. "You're right."

"Good."

Fred tugged on Angelina's sleeve. She was a light sleeper, and he felt much less guilty waking her than George. She hadn't been up all night, at least to his knowledge. "Hey, I'm going to go for a walk." Fred winked at her, and her tired eyes widened with understanding. She nodded before rolling over.

Fred Apparated from the nearest alleyway. He didn't even bother knocking on Matt's door. He knew Jamie wouldn't be home, so there was no reason to. Matt was lounging on his sofa and watching Seinfeld reruns.

"Hey, Freddie! What's up?" Matt patted his chest, practically begging for Fred to rest his head there. Fred smiled and laid down on top of Matt, letting Matt pull him close. "You seem tense."

"I thought I knew where Ron was, for just a moment. I thought he had gotten in and out of the Ministry. Remus said that didn't happen though. It's just a rumour." Fred didn't seem to be able to stop words from coming out of his mouth. "I'm wrong, and so is George, but it's not our fault because we didn't pick a reliable source. It just happens. We made a mistake."

Matt was silent. Fred looked up at him with large eyes. He smiled back softly. "Did it ever occur to you that he could be lying?"

Fred nodded. "I told him he was lying, but he wasn't."

"Read the Prophet recently?"

Fred shook his head. "Not allowed. It's just propaganda, anyway."

Matt pursed his lips, but he didn't say anything. He dug his thumbs under Fred's shoulder blades, drawing a surprised but pleased groan from Fred. Fred just tried to get even closer to Matt and turned his attention to the television, allowing Matt to continue to massage his back.

George had been pacing for so long that his feet must have burned. Several times, Angelina had come up to him, grabbed his shoulders, and screamed at him to stop moving. Lee had sat by and done nothing, however. He had found that the best thing to do was observe. George was an extremely intense person, and living with him for seven years taught Lee a hell of a lot.

Alicia pulled herself beside Lee on the top bunk. Lee rested his head on her shoulder. They didn't need words. There were plenty of words exchanged in the last week when it was just them. Shocking just how much a week alone with your best friend can reveal.

Angelina came back into Lee's line of sight, handing George a mug of tea. Judging from the shockingly strong smell, it was jasmine. Angelina muttered something about childhood memories. For the first time in hours, George stopped moving and uttered a soft "thanks".

Angelina's heels were wet. She could feel it. She hoped it was sweat, but she somehow doubted it. A week of nonstop walking had taken their toll, and the running wasn't helping. Her blisters had definitely burst. She turned back to tell Fred to remind her to strangle Oliver, but Fred wasn't there. He had either gone back to help George or fallen behind himself. Probably the former.

She had never realised how far ten kilometres was. She didn't know why Oliver was making any of them do it. Remus had wanted them to "stay in shape", but this just seemed cruel. They were plenty in shape with all they did at the Ministry. Their diet of granola bars and various potions while at the Ministry really didn't lend itself to being able to run 10k on the weekends. Especially not for George, who went every week. Angelina didn't envy him.

By the time Oliver told her it was her last lap, Angelina's eyes were swimming. One more lap, she thought, the mantra looping in her head. She passed by George and Fred, though she didn't take notice of them. She didn't have the capacity to. The only thing she could do was keep running. The end was in sight.

Lee really wasn't okay with this. This felt needlessly dangerous to him. None of them were disguised. They were searching classified records in the open. Now, Lee wasn't the best judge of safety, but he was pretty damn sure that one or more of them would be killed.

Fred was clearly just as nervous as Lee, but George had seemed numb for the last week. Lee hadn't seen a single emotion cross his face, and he was pretty sure one wasn't going to show up now. George was tearing through records, trying to find something about anything. Fred had made the point that You-Know-Who wouldn't keep his plans in such an accessible place. George had told him that they were going anyway.

Lee was reading through a pile of wanted files, trying to ignore how many people he knew on the list. He wrote all the names on a piece of paper in invisible ink, as well as any defining qualities.

Footsteps behind him triggered him to shove his paper in his pocket. "Who's there?" an unfamiliar voice called.

Lee didn't move. He hardly breathed. He heard footsteps, but they were going away from him, giving him the illusion of safety. He pulled his wand out slowly, praying it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"I know you're in here. I can smell you. Are you Harry Potter, hmm? Bold of you to try this again."

Somebody grabbed Lee's shoulder, and he yelped. He whipped around, but it was Fred. "Fuck you!" he mouthed. Fred pressed a finger to Lee's lips, panic in his eyes.

"Aw, is somebody scared? Is that you, Granger?" The footsteps were getting closer.

"Stupefy!" a shaky voice yelled. The bookshelf Lee was facing exploded, and he and Fred dove out of the way. Lee knew it was George who had cast the spell. That was where the stranger must have been standing.

There was a nearly inhuman growl and a scream. Fred shoved Lee back down and ran towards the noise. Lee followed him.

"Crucio!" Fred screamed. It was the first time Lee had seen him cast the spell on his own terms, and Lee knew exactly why. George was bleeding.

With the stranger distracted by a (quite weak) Cruciatus Curse, Lee stunned him.

George, who had gone limp, sat up. "He didn't bite me. It's just a scratch."

Fred sighed. "You're sure?"

George nodded. "I'm pretty sure I'd be able to tell if I was being eaten alive. It's not like Bill's either. Just a scratch."

"You guys know who that is?" Lee asked, kicking the man's body.

"Fenrir Greyback," George said simply.

"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" Fred had fallen to his knees and pulled George's injured thigh onto his lap.

"Not here. It's fine. Let's just Obliviate him and get the hell out of here."

Fred looked reluctant, but he nodded. Lee and Fred helped George hobble back into their confinements under a Disillusionment Charm, praying George didn't leave a trail of blood.

Just a scratch. No infection or anything. Able to walk somewhat normally now, George wrote, sighing. He debated whether or not to mention Greyback's reference to Harry, but he decided against it. Nothing significant in the way of 'grand plans' or anything. Just files on Muggleborns and shit. Lee, Fred, and I have an extensive list of wanted names each. Maybe we could do something to get those people into hiding? Or possibly just to give people some information? Not anything classified. Ask Lee about it when we get home, he came up with a handful of ideas.

Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. It'll be dawn soon. See you Saturday.