Winona lasted half the summer with the Klein's, but by the time the end of July was coming round, she knew she had to get outta there. The twins' offer was too irresistible to ignore. How could she stay locked up in her broom-cupboard of a bedroom when the twins were writing to her every other day inviting her to come stay with them.
She'd tried to stay away. Really, she had, but things between her and Mr. Klein had escalated. She wasn't a particularly mild-mannered person to begin – having gotten in her fair share of fights over the years – but when Mr. Klein thoughtlessly pushed her over the edge and into a screaming match to rival Peeves and McGonagall; well, she just knew it was time to get the hell outta dodge.
She'd been planning to head to the Burrow sometime in August, but plans quickly changed. Gathering up all her things in a furious rush, Winona stuffed it all deep down into her trunk and stormed from the house.
She'd never caught the knight bus before, but she'd gotten a crash course in the basics of how it worked from the twins over owl, and so standing on the curb she nervously stuck out her wand. She was only waiting a total of three seconds before a massive triple-decker bus seemed to materialise in front of her, its paint-job a gleaming purple.
The Conductor stepped off, dressed in a suit too big for his thin, bony body, and he grinned down at her with bad teeth and even worse skin. "Good evening," he said in a thick accent, clearly from somewhere up North. "My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."
Winona wasn't the type to get scared, in fact she prided herself on the fact, but something about this guy just rubbed her the wrong way.
"Let me get your bag, darling," he said in an attempt to sound smooth, but completely failed. Still, she let him pick up her trunk and bring it onto the bus. "Where're you headed?" he asked once they were inside.
She relayed the Weasley's address from memory and he grinned, pounding on the pane of glass separating them from the driver. As the bus took off, Winona let out a yelp as she hurried to grab ahold of the railing. It was fast.
"That'll be twelve Sickles," said Shunpike, holding out a hand expectantly.
Ah. Money. Right.
She definitely had no Wizarding currency on her, but as she rooted around in her pocket she was able to produce about two pounds in change. "I've only got Muggle money," she said apologetically, wincing at the thought of being kicked off this far from the Burrow.
Shunpike's expression scrunched, and his beady eyes swept her up and down. Uncomfortable, Winona crossed her arms over her chest. She'd thought she was developing rather nicely – and apparently, so did Shunpike.
"I'll tell you what," he said slyly. "I'll wave the fee – just this once – for such a pretty little thing as you."
Winona threw up a little in her mouth. She was only twelve, and this guy looked to be at least seventeen. On top of that, he was downright vile. But she knew how to play her audience, she'd been doing it her whole life, and so she smiled at him as sweetly as she could manage.
"Thank you so much."
"What's your name, then, darling?" he asked, biting at his nails absently, still watching her. She didn't like his eyes on her, they made her feel dirty.
She didn't particularly want to tell him her name, but she couldn't find a way out of it. Besides, despite how creepy he seemed, he was still letting her ride for free. "Winona," she told him, the thought of him saying her nickname making her want to hurl.
"Winona," he repeated lowly, and she was wrong. Even him saying her full name made her want to hurl. "Pretty name for a pretty bird."
"...Thanks."
"You go to Hogwarts?"
"Yeah," she nodded, leaning away when he not-so-subtly leaned forwards. "Second year."
He didn't even blink at her young age, and it only made her hate him more. "That McGonagall's a right bitch, in't she?" he asked conversationally.
Anger burned white hot within her, but even she wasn't stupid enough to punch her only way of getting to the Burrow. Awkward and holding back impressive violence, Winona made idle chit chat with him as they made their way out of London at speeds too fast for her to track.
"How much longer to my stop?" she asked Shunpike in her most saccharine voice.
"'Bout two minutes," he replied flippantly. Relief filled her, and she smiled a little more genuinely. "You got a boyfriend?" asked Shunpike abruptly, and just like that the smile was gone.
"Yeah," she lied instantly. "That's who I'm going to go see now. Spending the rest of the summer with his family before we go back to school."
"Sure..." said the older teenager, like he didn't believe a word out of her mouth. "What's his name?" he asked in an attempt to trip her up.
"Fred," she said without so much as a flinch.
"Fred," he repeated skeptically. Okay, so it was a bad name to pick for the situation she was in. It definitely sounded like something generic she'd come up with on the spot.
"Well, I'd better get my things together," she said awkwardly, struggling to stand to her feet with the violent rocking of the bus.
"Let me help," he said, moving closer, and she would have had to have been blind to miss the way he took the opportunity to glance down the front of her top. Nearly throwing up again, Winona could only force a wooden smile onto her lips and thank him thinly.
The bus came to a sudden, jerky stop, and Winona let out a small grunt as she slammed into the window with the inertia.
"Alright there, Winona?" Shunpike asked, reaching out to help her to her feet. She tried her hardest not to flinch away. She gave another waning smile, taking her things from him and moving to step away. "Door, Ernie," he ordered, and the door opened with a low creak.
Glad to be out of the bus and away from Shunpike's foul odour, Winona stumbled from the stairs, her shoes sinking into the damp earth.
"Maybe I can owl you sometime, Winona," said Shunpike's hopefully, chancing another glance down at her chest when he thought she couldn't see.
"Win?!" a familiar voice called out, and she turned in time to see the twins barrelling in their direction just before one of them slammed into her. Yelping as she was hefted off the ground, she held on tightly, grinning to herself. Fred put her down, slinging an arm over her shoulder.
Shunpike cleared his throat, and acting from instinct Winona threaded her arms around Fred's waist, hugging him back before pushing herself up onto her toes to brush her lips against the smooth skin of his cheek. Fred's eyes were almost comically wide, and from behind them George let out a loud guffaw.
"Thanks for all your help, Stan," she said as sweetly as she could manage, snuggling into Fred's side like she belonged there.
Looking awfully put out, Shunpike nodded his head, grumbling something under his breath and turning back into the Knight Bus, the door closing after him with a groan before the whole thing pulled away, too quick for her eyes to follow.
The second he was gone Winona let go of Fred with a loud sigh of relief, turning to George and throwing her arms around him in a friendly hug. "Hey guys, how've you been?" she asked, pulling away with a grin.
Twins were silent until George spoke up slyly, asking, "what, no kiss for me?"
Rolling her eyes, Winona turned to Fred apologetically. The poor bloke was standing stock still, gaping at her wordlessly. "Sorry, Freddie," she said apologetically. "That creep kept hitting on me. Told him I had a boyfriend to get him off my back," she explained. She couldn't quite tell in the darkness of the night, but she thought his ears had turned a deep red.
She felt bad for embarrassing him, but it was a small price to pay to keep Shunpike from trying to contact her in any way.
"Come on," George laughed, reaching down to pick up one side of Winona's trunk. "Let's get you inside."
"How'd you guys know I was here?" she asked curiously, watching as Fred shook his head to clear it, moving over to her trunk and grasping the other handle, the two of them lifting it up and beginning to walk back towards their house.
"I was by the window," Fred explained, finally recovering from his shock. "Saw the Knight Bus roll up, figured it could only either be you or our Aunt Muriel."
"And I'm definitely the better option, right?" she teased.
"Oh, definitely," he agreed solemnly. Winona smiled, feeling that little piece of her that went missing over the summer slide back into place. She exhaled, staring up at the house they were approaching. It was tall and haphazardly put together, like someone took a bunch of different rooms and crazy glued them all into one. It was charming, and she knew she wouldn't be able to picture them living anywhere else.
"Your mum won't mind that I just showed up unannounced?" she asked, feeling suddenly wary. It was unlikely that Mrs Weasley was the type to hit her sons' friends, but most of the experience Winona had had with adults whose roofs she'd lived under had involved violence. She wasn't sure she could take much more of it.
"You kidding?" scoffed George as he pushed open the door, bathing the three of them in light. "She'll be thrilled you're here."
Winona could only trust their judgement, gingerly stepping inside the eclectic house.
"Come on, you'll be staying in Ginny's room," said Fred as the door swung shut gently behind them. The light from the fire in the living room lit up their faces, and as Fred turned to add something else, he finally caught sight of Winona's face in the light. "Godric!" he cried, dropping his side of her trunk. Startled, Winona and George spun around to stare at him in surprise. "What happened to your face?" he demanded, eyes wide with horror.
Self-conscious, Winona reached up to cover the bruise on her cheek with her hand. "I fell," she lied. "Hit my face on the bannister."
"And your lip?" Fred prompted, reminding her of her split lip.
She smiled, hoping to appear roguish, but it just pulled at the broken skin of her lip and made her wince. "Yeah, that one's from a fight."
George tutted. "What are we going to do with you?" he wondered. Winona only attempted another smile.
George and Fred exchanged a long look, one of those ones where she could tell they were discussing something silently before then turned back to look at her with matching shrugs. "Come on, then," said Fred, grasping her wrist and using it to pull her along, his other hand gripping the trunk and helping George lug it up the stairs.
They kept quiet, as it was getting quite late, and when they came to a stop outside one of the first doors they came to, Fred put down his half of her trunk. "This is Ginny's room," explained George quickly. "I'll go make sure the spare bed's all ready for you." Fred kept his fingers locked around Winona's wrist, abruptly pulling her up yet another flight of stairs.
"Where're we going?" she asked in a low voice, mindful of the way the wooden steps creaked under their weight.
Fred didn't answer, abruptly opening another door and pushing her through. Inside were two beds, one on either side of the room. The floor was littered with clothes and other miscellaneous objects. The whole room smelt of gunpowder and expired potions, but she didn't mind, it just reminded her of them.
Fred left her by the door, moving over to a chest of drawers in the corner. He rooted around inside for a moment before producing a small tub of something orange, making his way around the carnage of his room and standing in front of her.
"Here," he said, unscrewing the lid and scooping up some of the stuff within. He made a move to smear it on her face, and she stepped back warily. He gave a quiet, kind of exasperated laugh. "Trust me?" he asked playfully.
"In theory," she replied slowly.
Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's just ointment," he explained patiently. "For your bruise. It'll help it heal more quickly."
She was still wary, but she knew he was only trying to help and reluctantly leaned forwards, closing her eyes so he could smear the ointment over her bruise. His fingers met her skin gently, and the ointment smelt of oranges. He was careful and delicate as he spread the stuff over her injuries.
"You going to tell me how you really got these bruise?" he asked softly, a perfectly reasonable question, even if it did make her flinch.
Swallowing, Winona kept her eyes shut, knowing the conversation would be easier if she wasn't looking at him. "Nope."
To his credit, he didn't argue, just sighing quietly and finishing his task, stepping back. She took this as a cue to open her eyes, and when she did she found he wasn't looking at her, but rather toying with the lid of the tub.
She didn't really want to press further, but her side was hurting like a bitch, and she was willing to make things temporarily worse if it meant she could get some pain relief. "Do you mind if I take that with me for the night?" she asked quietly, crossing her arms and looking away.
"Why?"
Winona shifted uncomfortably, but in the end just grit her teeth and ripped off the bandaid. "Because my face isn't the only place that's bruised," she admitted, and Fred went still in front of her.
It was funny the difference between how other people saw the twins, and how she saw them. Most thought the pair didn't have so much as a serious bone in their bodies, but Winona knew otherwise. When they really cared, then they could be serious. She felt honoured that they cared enough to be serious about her.
"You keep it," said Fred suddenly, and she looked up at him quickly. "George and I can just make more later."
Winona took the small tub. "You guys made this?" she asked in surprise.
"Some people actually pay attention in Potions, you know?"
"And by 'some people', you mean George, right?" she teased.
His serious expression melted into a toothy grin, and she was relieved. As privileged as she was to warrant their seriousness, she much preferred them smiling. She vowed then and there to never be the reason a Weasley twin lost his smile. She just couldn't bear it.
"Come on," he said with a laugh. "Let's get you to bed. We can argue some more in the morning."
He led her back down a few floors to Ginny's door, and as they arrived George stepped through. "Not your best look, I'll give you that," he said, gesturing to the orange ointment smeared across her bruised face.
"Still a right sight better than you'll ever look," she retaliated without missing a beat.
George rolled his eyes. "Go to bed," George ordered, nudging her in the direction of his sister's door. "You clearly need your beauty rest."
With a roll of her eyes, Winona ducked into Ginny's room, letting the door click shut after her. Turning around, she was met with the sight of Ginny herself, someone she'd yet to meet before now.
She was a tiny little girl with bright, flaming red hair sat on a bed in the corner, a magazine on what looked to be Quidditch brooms propped up in front of her. She didn't speak as Winona wandered deeper into the room, staring back at her with assessing, intelligent eyes.
"Hi, Ginny," Winona greeted her, hoping to make a good impression. "I'm Winona."
"Hello," young Ginny said, still watching her cautiously.
"Thanks for letting me stay in your room," she continued, taking a seat on the spare bed along the far wall. "Sorry for the late notice. I didn't know I was coming until tonight."
"S'okay," replied Ginny, rolling up her magazine and turning to look at Winona properly. "What's that on your face?" she asked curiously.
"Fred gave me some ointment for my bruises," she explained nonchalantly.
"Bruises?"
Winona shot Ginny a sheepish expression. "I get into more fights than I probably should," she confessed. And that was the truth.
"The twins talk about you all the time," said Ginny. "They told me that the first time you met, you punched some guy in the face."
Smiling fondly at the memory, Winona began unlacing her shoes. "That's true, yeah. He was being a dick."
"Do you punch people in the face often?"
"As often as I can, yeah," Winona confirmed cheerfully, then reconsidered. "But I wouldn't recommend it."
"Why not?"
"I dunno, it just felt like the responsible thing to say," she replied, and Ginny laughed. "I'm just gonna fall asleep in my clothes – promise not to judge me for it?"
Ginny giggled again, the sound soft but holding a steel to it that Winona respected. "Promise."
The next day dawned, and Winona woke up to the sound of a kettle whistling and voices chattering away from somewhere below her. She remembered where she was with a smile, and for the first time in weeks was happy to roll out of bed. Her bruised body ached in protest, but it went ignored.
She reached up to press against the ointment on her face, only to find it had absorbed into her skin overnight. Glancing in the small mirror hanging on Ginny's wall, she found that the bruises had almost completely vanished. Not for the first time, she conceded that the twins really were geniuses.
Ginny was already downstairs, so Winona took advantage of the empty room to quickly change, pulling on a fresh pair of paint-stained jeans and a simple shirt. Then to finish it off she yanked a dark flannel on over top and combed her fingers through her knotty hair, deciding it would just have to do.
Wandering down the stairs and following the sounds of life, Winona noticed immediately that the Burrow looked a lot different in the day than it did in the night. The home was the exact opposite of ordinary, and she absolutely loved it.
There were big, squashy chairs placed around the room, and in one of them a pair of knitting needles were hard at work, moving by magic to knit what looked like a soft, woollen sweater. There was a chess board sitting on the table, the remains of smashed pieces littering the checkered top. Through the door to the right she could just see a scouring brush working on its own to scrub clean a dirty pan.
Everything was packed tightly together, but it didn't feel cluttered, it just felt lived in. The windows were all eclectic, stained glass patterns, none of them matching, but all uniquely beautiful. Above her the roof was on a diagonal angle, threatening to bump her head if she stepped any closer to the wall.
There was an abrupt shout from across the room, and turning sharply as though expecting an attack, Winona was surprised to be met with the sight of a red haired, pleasantly plump woman with a smile on her face so bright that it was like looking directly at the sun.
"You must be Winona!" the woman said shrilly, scurrying across the room to gather Winona in a tight, warm embrace, the likes of which she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced. "Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, dear," she was saying, rubbing her back gently in such a motherly way that it almost made Winona's eyes sting.
She wasn't really sure what to do during such a loving hug. She briefly squeezed her back, feeling the woman's grip on her tighten.
When Mrs Weasley pulled back, she was beaming brightly enough to render someone blind. "Oh, I've heard so much about you," she said, hands pressed to Winona's shoulders, a gentle but reassuring pressure.
"I hope you don't mind that I arrived so unexpectedly, Mrs Weasley," Winona said respectfully. "I would have owled ahead, but..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain.
"No matter, dear," said Mrs Weasley cheerfully, and Winona really believed it. "Come through, the others are just having breakfast now."
She stepped into the next room where a large dining table sat. It was full to the brim with redheads, all of them chattering among one another loudly over the top of a feast of bacon and scrambled eggs.
"Morning, you sleeping dragon!" cried the twins from where they sat, grinning at her and pointing obnoxiously at the open seat on Fred's left. She moved around the table, taking a seat where they'd saved it.
"You must be Winona," said an older, balding man with laugh lines covering his aging face. "We've heard so much about you."
He leaned across the table to shake her hand, and she did so, smiling at him politely. "Nice to meet you, Mr Weasley."
"Oh, Winona dear, you won't have met Ron yet," said Mrs Weasley as she bustled around the table, pouring juice for her youngest children. She waved a hand at a boy only a couple of years younger than she and the twins. He was tall for his age, lanky like his brothers, with the same red hair and freckles.
"Hey, Ron," she smiled at him, and instantly his ears went bright red. The twins each cackled around their mouthful of bacon. "Are you starting Hogwarts this year or next?" she asked him, kicking Fred in the leg in reprimand. She may not have been the most socially aware person in the room, but she was never a dick to someone who didn't deserve it (...usually).
"Next," Ron managed to say around his nerves, looking dejected over the fact.
"You'll love it once you get there," Winona promised him as she began to pile her plate high with food. It was a quirk of foster care – eat plenty when you had the chance, because who knew when your next meal would come around?
"How do you get sorted into your House?" asked Ron eagerly. "Fred and George say you have to wrestle a troll, but I don't believe them."
She almost took pity on the kid, but this time Fred was the one to kick her in the leg, and she really couldn't help but play along.
"Oh yeah, there's a massive troll," said Winona with the kind of conviction usually reserved for Quidditch matches and pranks on the Slytherins. "How d'you think I got this scar?" she asked, lifting her hair and pointing to a scar that ran from below her ear to the junction of her shoulder.
Ron went a stark white, staring at her in horror. From beside her, the twins were just barely keeping in their snickers of amusement. From the head of the table, Mr Weasley was smirking, but he didn't give in and tell the truth, something that made Winona like him even more.
He suddenly leant forwards, an eager look on his lined face. "So Winona, the twins tell me you grew up as a Muggle," he began, interest warming his voice.
Almost immediately every child around the room groaned, leaning back in their chair with exasperation. Getting the feeling that engaging was going to be something of a mistake, Winona could still only nod. "That's right, I did."
"Brilliant," said Mr Weasley, like he couldn't possibly think of a better way to grow up. "That makes your parents Muggles, then?"
She felt Fred stiffen from beside her, but she wasn't as touchy about it as he probably assumed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thing to discuss, but she didn't mind. Besides, Mr Weasley was being perfectly nice about the whole thing, and he was only curious. "My parents were magical, actually," she told Mr Weasley in an even voice. "But they both died when I was three."
There was a beat of awkward silence as nobody quite knew how to respond, and Winona felt bad for bringing down the atmosphere until she got a look at Mrs Weasley's face. Curious, Winona watched her, wondering why she suddenly looked so pale.
"What did you say your last name was again, dear?" she asked, voice a little wobbly, like she were holding back an emotion Winona couldn't name.
"Andrews," she told her. "My parents were Jessica and Orion Andrews."
"And they died when you were three, you say?"
"Yes?" by now her hesitance was leaking into her voice. Why did she get the feeling Mrs Weasley knew something she didn't?
"Winona!" said Mr Weasley abruptly, and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. He hadn't said her name like he wanted her attention – he'd said it like it were something he'd long since been trying to remember, and it had just now come to him.
"Mum," said Fred through gritted teeth. "Why're you being so weird?"
Mrs Weasley seemed to realise how odd she was being, blinking out of it and shooting Winona an apologetic look that she wasn't so sure she bought. "Sorry, dear," she said, leaning forwards to gently pat her shoulder. The gesture, while kind, made Winona want to flinch away. "It's just, you remind me of somebody I once knew."
"Who?" Winona asked without any tact.
Mrs Weasley tutted distractedly and turned away to hastily begin buttering Ginny's toast for her. "Oh, nobody important," she said airily, but Winona didn't buy it for a moment. "Who do you live with now, might I ask?" she continued on casually. "Relatives?"
"No," said Winona quickly, pushing idly at the strips of crispy bacon on her plate. "I'm in the Muggle foster care system."
Mr Weasley leant forwards, eager for more. "Foster care system?" he asked. "What's that?"
Winona blinked in surprise. "The Wizarding world doesn't have a foster system?"
"No," said Mr Weasley, having all but abandoned his food in favour of giving her his full, undivided attention. "It sounds fascinating."
Winona decided to put aside Mr and Mrs Weasley's odd behaviour. She'd ask the twins what that was about later on. For now she was just going to try and enjoy the day, and the feeling of family she felt wrapped in like a hand-knitted quilt.
So Winona launched into a basic explanation of the foster care system, explaining how she'd had several in the past, and the ones she was with now were just the latest in a long line of unsuitable homes.
Mr Weasley kept up a steady supply of questions, all but ignoring his wife when she chastised him for talking so much and keeping her from her breakfast. Winona promised she didn't mind – it was kind of nice to talk about it with somebody who didn't look at her with pity in their eyes. Instead Mr Weasley was just a huge ball of fascination. He just wanted to learn.
"Oh, how brilliant," gushed Mr Weasley when she'd finished. "Getting to meet all those different types of Muggles, it must be so fascinating," he rambled obliviously.
It wasn't, actually. It was horrible and painful and the not brilliant in even the slightest way. But Winona wasn't looking to crush the poor bloke's spirits, so with only a slight wrinkle of her nose she pasted a smile on her face and said, "yeah, it can be pretty interesting."
"You'll have to tell me all about the...what's it called? The refrig-idor-ator."
Winona had to think for a moment on what that might mean. "You mean the refrigerator?" she asked, undeniably amused. "I don't pretend to know much about how it works, but I'd be happy to try," she said with a smile.
Mrs Weasley sent her a grateful smile for playing along.
Once breakfast was over, the twins hurried to help their mum clean up before bounding over to Winona excitedly. "Ready to go out back and play some Quidditch?" Fred asked her eagerly.
"Yeah, sounds awesome," she agreed, and with bright beams the pair disappeared, the sound of their shoes clunking on the staircase drifting up through the door leading to the kitchen. Winona turned to Ginny, who was still sat beside her, watching her closely. "I've never played Quidditch before," she revealed to the younger girl quietly, taking a sip of the last of her juice.
"You haven't?" she asked, practically lighting up at the words.
"Nope," Winona confirmed. "I watched all the house matches last year, but I've never played it myself."
"Which position do you think you'd like to play?"
"I think either Seeker or Chaser."
"When I go to Hogwarts, I'm going to join the Gryffindor House team as a Chaser!" Ginny exclaimed with such unwavering certainty that Winona wholeheartedly believed her.
"But what if you don't get into Gryffindor?" she asked jokingly.
Ginny looked affronted at the very suggestion. "Of course I'll get into Gryffindor," she said slowly, as if correcting Winona on an error she'd made.
"Of course you will," Winona replied with a laugh. "Did you want to come down and play a game with us?" she asked kindly, and Ginny lit up at the offer.
"The twins never ask me to play with them," she said loudly, eyes wide at the prospect. "I don't know if they'd let me," she added, crestfallen.
"Well, I say you can, so the twins will just have to keep their ugly mugs shut, won't they?"
Ginny looked like Christmas had come early, grinning as she climbed from her chair eagerly. "You wanna be on a team together?" she asked, eyes glinting with childlike hope.
"Sure thing, Ginger."
Ginny's tiny face scrunched up adorably. "My name's not Ginger," she replied, looking mighty confused.
"Oh, I though Ginny was short for Ginger," Winona confessed.
"It's short for Ginevra," she said with a revolted grimace. "I like Ginger better, though," she added with a decisive nod.
"Ginger it is, then, Ginger," Winona told her, reaching out to ruffle her ginger hair. Ginny acted disgruntled, but there was a bright spark to her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Ginny following you around like a witch on a love potion?" Fred asked once they'd both wandered back into the kitchen.
"Beat it, Gin," George added, tossing a tattered old Quaffle up into the air and catching it with both hands.
"Winona said I could play," Ginny said, looking like a munchkin compared to her tall, lanky older brothers.
"She did?" the twins asked, looking displeased.
"Of course I did," Winona told them, a sharp look on her face, just daring them to question it. "Why shouldn't she?"
"Well, Ron was gonna play with us," Fred said, gesturing to the corner where Ron stood, ears seeming to be permanently stained red. "If Ginny comes too, the teams will be uneven."
"They can both be on my team," Winona said with ease. "Considering I've never played before, I could use all the help I can get."
The twins grimaced but were smart enough not to argue. "Fine," they muttered. "Come on," George prompted her, heading out through the back door. "The shed with the brooms is out here."
The shed was small and run down, but Winona thought it held as much character as the house itself. The inside was full of a handful of beaten up old brooms. Winona didn't care; as long as it could fly, she'd get on it.
"Do you want the Comet or the Shooting Star?" asked Fred, holding out two particularly ratty looking brooms.
"The Comet will do me," she replied, taking it from him gently, treating it with the utmost care. She hadn't flown since her flying lessons last year, but she'd loved it then and couldn't wait to try again.
"You know the rules?" George asked as they came to a stop in a field at the back of the Burrow. She did – she absolutely loved to watch the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, they were one of her favourite parts of school itself. The twins were set on joining the team in the coming year, but as much as Winona loved the game she didn't want the responsibility of playing for her House.
"Yeah," she nodded anyway, running over the rules in her head once more.
"Forget them," Fred said gleefully before she could really get started. "Out here, there are no rules."
The twins had a wicked gleam to their eyes that made her grin.
"Except biting and elbowing," Ron interjected warily.
"Yes, yes," George tutted impatiently.
"We don't play with Bludgers or a Snitch," Fred told her. "There aren't enough of us anyway. We just try and get this old Quaffle through those trees," he said, gesturing to the makeshift ring made from tree trunks, obviously aided by magic.
"Got it," she confirmed, and he grinned, straddling his broom and shooting up into the sky. Winona beamed, glancing over at the others, who had all lifted up from the ground as well, and was quick to follow.
The weeks passed almost too quickly, it was all a bit of a blur. There was food (a lot of food), and there was Quidditch (a lot of Quidditch). Ginny and Ron introduced her to a Wizarding band called the Weird Sisters, which was actually rather good.
Mrs Weasley was incredibly welcoming and Winona felt at home right away. She had found out that Winona liked to cook, so she'd adopted a habit of inviting her down to the kitchen before dinner to help prepare the meal. Winona had never had anyone cook with her before, she'd barely even done it herself. But Mrs Weasley was an amazing teacher. It was lovely, too, standing in the kitchen with her as they chatted about the food they were making, or what their favourite dishes of all time were and how to make them.
Mrs Weasley discovered early on, however, that while the young second year was good with every-day meals, she had a real flare for baking.
"I was thinking of making muffins for afternoon tea," she said to the young girl one day about halfway through her stay. "Do you have a recipe you like in particular?"
Winona had felt warm at the offer, and she grinned at Mrs Weasley brightly, launching into the verbal recipe for her special blueberry muffins. One of the foster homes she'd been in once was a nice enough woman named Emma. She'd had recipe books strewn all over the house, and Winona had liked flicking through them when she was bored.
Mrs Weasley had taken a backseat that afternoon, and by the time the rest of the family were sitting down to eat, Winona was exhausted but content.
"You all have Winona to thank for today's afternoon tea," Mrs Weasley told them, wrapping an arm around the small girl's shoulders and squeezing gently. The others dug into her muffins with gusto, loudly proclaiming how much they loved what she'd made. Winona felt her cheeks grow hot, unused to such high praise.
The days passed by and the twins spoke a lot of pranks, holed up in their room ("with the door open, thank you very much, you two," Mrs Weasley had said to them, a spatula pointed threateningly in their direction), scribbling out their plans for the coming school year.
"Dungbombs," Fred said one night in answer to a question George had posed. "We're definitely going to need to stock them in the joke shop, George," he added, tapping the tip of a Sugar Quill against the dimple in his chin. "I wonder if there's anything that smells worse than dung?"
"Hold up," Winona said from where she was reclined on one of their beds, her head over the edge, watching the twins scheme from upside down. It was a position she'd taken up often over the weeks at the Burrow. She'd begun to love just hanging out in the twins' room, listening to their plotting and sketching to her heart's content. It was like being back at school, hanging out around the castle on weekends with nothing to do. She'd long-since decided this was her happy place. "What joke shop?" she asked now, hands dangling down to the floor.
"Oh – after we graduate school, we're gonna open our own joke shop," George told her flippantly.
"We haven't come up with a name yet, we're still working that part out," Fred hurried to add.
Winona was perfectly silent, a picture almost like a vision in her mind's eye of two beaming wizards in magenta robes, their hair the colour of fire and a sea of customers flowing around them. In the present, she saw their faces fall.
"We know it probably sounds stupid," Fred said rather dully, disappointed by her lack of reaction.
"No!" she exclaimed, realising they had taken her silence the wrong way. "Not at all!" With a grunt she forced herself to sit up, spinning around so she could look at them both properly, though she went kind of cross-eyed from the sudden change in position. "I think it's brilliant!" she assured them once she was more certain she wouldn't throw up. "It's absolutely perfect, I couldn't imagine the two of you doing anything else!"
The twins looked the opposite of crestfallen, grinning at her widely, like she'd paid them the biggest compliment on earth.
"Does the Wizarding world offer courses in business?" she asked eagerly.
"Not that we know of," George told her with a shrug. "But anyway, all of that costs gold, of which we have none."
"Yet," Fred interjected cheerfully. "We'll run an ad in the Prophet, sell our stuff by mail order, then hopefully, we'll have saved enough to buy a premises."
Winona could only gape at them. "You really have it all planned out, don't you?" she murmured, feeling a sense of pride bloom in her chest. The tops of the twins' ears turned a faint pink. "Oh, now I can't wait until school finishes, and I'm standing in your shop, looking around at all the wonderful products-"
Then everything went terrifyingly dark. There were the usual flashes, intense and packed with more colour than any she'd ever seen before. There was a sound, like a buzzing in her ear, only getting louder and louder with every passing heartbeat. It was so familiar, what was it?
When she finally recognised it, she realised it could never be anything else; it was laughter. The kind that rattled your body and made your insides hurt in the best of ways.
She came back to the present with a jolt, much like landing back on the ground after flying on a broom. "Ugh," she groaned, feeling the room spin from underneath her, her stomach still reeling from her journey into the sea of time.
"I think she's back!" Fred's voice hissed from beside her ear. Winona blinked, whirling around to look at him. He was sitting beside her on the bed, hands hovering over her as though to grab her. Glancing to the right she saw George standing by the door, presumably keeping a lookout for anyone who might come by and find her zoned out in an episode. "George, come check out what she drew!" Fred said excitedly. George left his post to hurry over.
She wasn't sure what she looked like when she had an episode – she'd only ever experienced it from the inside before – but she could imagine it wasn't a particularly pretty sight. She was astounded that the twins were taking it so well, having even had enough sense to put something in her hands for her to draw with. She felt embarrassed, having had them see her that way, but neither seemed to care, so she shoved the embarrassment away and glanced down at her new prediction.
"Whoa," George gasped as he took in the rough sketch on the paper.
On the parchment before her, sketched in simple black ink, sat a storefront, big and crowded. It was in the distance, the words along the top impossible to make out, but it was very clearly in Diagon Alley, with tiny little witches and wizards pouring in and out of it. It looked busier than any of the shops had ever been when she'd gone to Diagon Alley in the past.
"Do you think that's us?" Fred asked, excitement overflowing.
"'Course it is!" George was beaming so broadly that Winona thought his lips might crack. "She was talking about us and our store in the future, then BAM!" he said with such a sudden roar that Winona jumped, "She has a vision!"
"It can't be coincidence!" Fred agreed wholeheartedly.
"This means we're going to succeed!"
Both twins leapt up, locking arms and doing a strange sort of jig around the middle of their bedroom floor in unrestrained glee. Bemused, Winona could only watch them. It was the first time they'd ever been with her during the bulk of a vision. She wasn't sure what other people saw from the outside, but she didn't imagine it was particularly nice; her mind wasn't with her, she was little more than an empty shell. She was still surprised that, instead of being weird about it, the twins took it on board and looked after her until she returned.
The vision had worn her out, but she still managed a smile for her ecstatic best friends, who looked the happiest she'd ever seen them. She hoped their happiness would never fade, and beyond all else, hoped her vision would come true.
The next day was the trip into Diagon Alley to gather their school supplies. They bought their books, and their extra potion ingredients, but decided to wait until next year to buy new robes, reasoning that they still had a few inches of growing left to do anyway. Mrs Weasley let them go off on their own and they hung around Quality Quidditch Supplies for about a half hour before heading straight to Florean's for ice cream.
Along with her supply list, McGonagall had sent a small pouch of galleons – her annual allowance from the Ministry for school supplies. She felt a bit weird about taking it, but at the end of the day money was money, and she still had enough left over to buy the twins their ice cream.
They'd tried to kick up a stink when she insisted on paying, but she shut them up with a stern look that had them ducking their heads like chastised children, and they took their treats with exaggerated thank you's, complete with dipping bows and posh accents.
The days were slipping through her fingers like sand, and as much as she couldn't wait to be back at school, she knew she was going to desperately miss the Summer, the freedom, and the atmosphere of pure homeliness she felt at the Burrow. It was a sensation of belonging that she hadn't known could exist, and she was reluctant to leave so soon after discovering it.
"Cheer up!" George said as they walked through King's Cross towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. "At least at school we don't have to de-gnome the garden!"
"Yeah, but it's just replaced by homework, George," she said with a withering sigh. "I'd take tossing gnomes across the yard over an essay on the uses for dragon blood any day."
"She's got a point there, Forge," Fred said with a click of his tongue, and George had to agree. "But also, we'll have a whole sea of Slytherins to test our new pranks on!" he added cheerfully, and even Winona had to smile at the enthusiasm in his voice and the extra bounce in his step. "And don't tell me you're not chomping at the bit to see Alicia and Ange."
This time she was the one to agree, but she still couldn't help her own melancholy demeanour as Mrs Weasley said goodbye, the train whistling impatiently from behind them.
"You be good, you hear?" she said to the twins sternly, eyes narrowed suspiciously, like she thought they were planning something nefarious even as they stood before her.
"Wizard's oath," they swore simultaneously, each pressing a hand over their hearts.
Mrs Weasley looked anything but convinced, but the train whistled again, and she pulled them into a large, group hug, squeezing tightly and pressing a kiss to both their heads of fiery red hair before pulling away and wiping at her misty eyes.
"And you'll be good too, won't you, Winona?" the Weasley matriarch turned to her, and she blinked in surprise at the inclusion.
"Of course, Mrs Weasley," she said, feeling slightly guilty that she didn't completely mean it, but it was what the woman needed to hear.
Mrs Weasley smiled, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "And you'll write to me...if they get into too much trouble, won't you?" she murmured, and Winona's eyes widened, knowing without a doubt that wasn't something she was going to be able to promise.
"I'll keep them safe," she said instead, avoiding the request like a minefield and attempting a smile that ended up as more of a twisted grimace. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to notice, beaming at her wetly just as the train whistled a final time. The twins tugged on her arms, yanking her back onto the train before it could pull away without her. Winona waved goodbye to Mrs Weasley as the train pulled out of the station, and they disappeared around the bend.
"Hey, Hogans!" the twins yelled to a bespectacled Ravenclaw from their year. The boy spun around with his hands held up in surrender, probably assuming he was about to be the twins' first target of the school year. "Seen Lee around?" George continued blithely, as though the poor kid didn't look completely traumatised by the mere call of his name.
Winona smirked at the twins' reputation. It was kind of hilarious.
"Few compartments back that way," he said, and the twins gave lazy salutes before following the directions.
The twins began to mutter between one another, and knowing they'd be like that for a while, Winona rolled her eyes and pushed past them, scanning the compartments until she found Lee. His head of thick, inky dreadlocks stood out amongst the other heads of hair, and she beamed at the sight of him.
"Hey guys," she greeted the compartment at large, slipping inside and dragging her trunk in after her. Alicia hopped up to help her store it above their heads. "How was your summer?" she asked once her things were away, reclining back on the bench, reaching out to lazily bump her fist against Angelina's in greeting, then doing the same with Lee.
"My Aunt Ayomide visited from Africa last week," Lee offered, turning back to his game of Gobstones with Angelina. "She brought me a voodoo doll and told me to use it on my enemies, so you'd better be nice to me this year."
Winona snorted, kicking him in the shin playfully. The twins finally made their way to the compartment, tumbling inside clumsily, like a pair of penguins with their legs strapped together. "Salutations, friends!" Fred greeted the group at large, and he was met with a vague chorus of hellos.
"I heard Jacqueline Jenkins from fifth year dropped out of school to be with a Slytherin who graduated last year," Alicia was saying to Winona, perfectly content to ignore the twins' entrance.
"Seriously?" Winona asked, intrigued. The sound of Angelina's shouts filled the compartment as water shot into her face from the Gobstones, and then the twins' uproarious laughter joined it, and soon the whole room was full of laughter, aimless chatter and friendly, lighthearted goading.
And maybe it wasn't the Burrow, with Mrs Weasley's kind smile and her husband's incessant questions about the Muggle Underground and Ron's blushing cheeks as he offered her the last slice of toast and Ginny's shy grin as she made a joke at her brothers' expense – but suddenly Winona realised that there, surrounded by her friends on the way back to Hogwarts, she'd never felt more at home.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed. Still just setting up the main facts in these beginning chapters. I considered skipping ahead, but I think it's important we get a good foundation for the story to come. Little hints within this one that give nods to plot points further along in the story. Leave me a review and let me know what you thought - they always make me smile! xx