A/N: Okay, just so we're all caught up – I purposefully didn't cover what little remained of Philosopher's Stone. Where it ended was where I intended for that book to end. In this one we begin Chamber of Secrets – and here's where things start to heat up…
I also want to make clear something that I'm not sure I have; this story is as much about Winona's relationship with the twins – specifically Fred – as it is her relationship with Harry. Going into this, I wanted to make a character who could be there for Harry in a way nobody was but absolutely should have been in canon. The exact nature of their connection will become clear in time, but know that I focus on that just as much as the other aspects of this story.
Hope you enjoy the chapter!
The summer holiday after third year was quite possibly the worst Winona had ever had. It wasn't so much that she was hurt, or in any way abused, but it was so painfully lonely that some nights she didn't know how to handle it.
She wasn't sure how she'd gone from introvert-in-the-extreme to reliant-on-relationships in the space of only three years, but nonetheless, it had happened. She craved the company of those she loved more than anything else. She wrote her friends whenever she could, but it just wasn't the same.
They were still in the wizarding world with their large, happy families, and she was still stuck in her shitty foster home that had bars on the windows and was miles away from anyone worth getting to know. Her friends from the year before were long gone, one in a detention centre in Bristol and the other having moved away with family. So, once again, Winona was alone.
It was only a few weeks until the end of the summer when she decided she just couldn't do it any more. She wrote to the twins, ordering them to come and get her before she snapped.
She could have taken the Knight Bus again, however not only was she fresh out of Sickles, but the thought of coming face to face with that ugly, creepy Shunpike bloke again made her entire body shudder with disgust.
Luckily, the twins were there for her as always. They owled her back with the time they'd be coming the next day and told her to wait by the fireplace but to make sure the Muggles would be nowhere in sight. As luck would have it, both her foster parents were busy with work, and the next day she had the house entirely to herself.
She was packed and ready to go with plenty of time to spare, so she grabbed her sketchbook and curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace, eagerly awaiting their arrival. They were five minutes late – just about shooting her nerves to hell in the process – but finally, at six past ten in the morning the fireplace flared to life, spitting out none other than Fred Weasley himself.
Relief filled her veins like a drug, and before he'd even gotten his bearings she was up and out of her seat, throwing herself onto him, hooking her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him as tightly as she could.
"Whoa," said Fred, hugging her back immediately, gripping her tight enough that she could almost believe he missed her as much as she'd missed him. "Alright there, Win?"
He'd grown probably a foot since she'd last seen him, whereas she'd hardly grown at all (well, she'd gotten curvier, but that was hardly useful against the twins' massive height).
"Just missed you, is all," she said, breathing him in before stepping back just in time for the fire to flare again, George appearing amongst the flames. "George!" she cried, throwing herself on him as well. He caught her with a low grunt.
"Blimey, someone's grown a bit, haven't they?" asked George tactlessly, and she prised herself away from him just so she had room to smack him upside the head.
"Don't be a prick," she chided him, but even she couldn't mask the grin sitting on her lips.
"Yeah, George," said Fred slyly. "Don't be a prick."
"Connected us to the Floo Network, I see," she said, moving over to begin to gather her things. Fred swooped in, taking her trunk from her before she could protest.
"Dad sorted it for us," George replied, taking the other end of her trunk and moving it towards the fireplace.
"So this is where you spend your time when you're not slumming it with us, I see," said Fred, staring at the living room of her foster house with a critical eye.
"Trust me, I'd rather be slumming it with you two any day of the week," she replied honestly, doing a final check to be sure she had everything before stepping eagerly towards the fireplace. "Let's get the hell out of dodge before the Muggles get home."
"Your wish-"
"Our command."
George produced a small pouch full of Floo powder, and she didn't hesitate to grab a pinch, throwing it in and eagerly shouting, "The Burrow!"
It was, as it always was, like being sucked through a drain pipe. But Winona knew the destination at the end of the tunnel was worth it, so she held her breath and endured the sickening ride until she was unceremoniously spat out the other end, tripping not-so-gracefully into the Weasley's living room.
"Winona, dear!" cried a familiar voice. And she turned just in time to be smothered in a tight embrace by Mrs Weasley. The plump, older witch gripped her tightly, rubbing her back up and down soothingly. "Oh, how wonderful to see you."
Winona gripped Mrs Weasley back even tighter than she had the twins, and when the Weasley matriarch made to move away she refused to let her go. Mrs Weasley made a sound of surprise, but didn't move, just hugging the younger witch back warmly.
"You alright, Winona?" she asked gently, reaching up to run her hand over Winona's head of blonde hair. "You're feeling a bit thin. Have those Muggles been treating you right?"
They hadn't, but she wasn't about to admit it. Pulling back, Winona smiled up at her, moving to grab her hands, squeezing them in thanks. She'd really just needed a mother's embrace – but she certainly wouldn't admit to that, either.
"Winona?" Mrs Weasley prompted her, beginning to grow concerned.
"It's good to see you too, Mrs Weasley," she said rather than voice anything going through her head. Mrs Weasley didn't look completely convinced, but she smiled nonetheless, patting the short girl on the cheeks before turning to the fireplace expectantly.
"Where are those boys?" she asked with a huff.
Winona suddenly had a bad feeling. "They should be right along," she was all she said, however, covering for her trouble-magnet friends. "My trunk's a bit heavy, they must be struggling with it."
"For all their joking around, they can be quite the gentlemen when they want to be," she said of her sons fondly. Winona agreed with a nod and a weak smile. "I'm just in the middle of making lunch, would you like to come help, dear?"
"I'd love to," she replied. Mrs Weasley smiled, leading her through to the kitchen.
When the twins stumbled into the room more than five minutes later, it was to find their mother and best friend involved in a deep conversation about the various types of pie crusts. Winona already had a streak of flour across her cheek and she was smiling as Mrs Weasley told her an anecdote about a young Ron Weasley and a rolling pin at the age of five.
"There you two are," said their mother shrilly. "What took you so long?"
They acted casual, leaning in the doorway and shrugging, but Winona looked up to grin at them knowingly. "Winnie's trunk was heavy," said Fred, unknowingly using the exact same excuse, and Winona had to grin at how in sync they all were even after weeks apart.
"Go put it up in Ginny's room, then," said Mrs Weasley, pointing a whisk in the general direction of the stairs. "Oh, actually – I haven't made the bed up for you yet, dear," she said apologetically. "You keep kneading that dough while I go make sure it's all ready for you."
The three friends were silent as Mrs Weasley disappeared, whipping out her wand and wordlessly levitating Winona's trunk up the stairs in front of her. Winona waited until she was sure the woman was gone before she turned to the twins expectantly. "Go on, then," she said, preparing herself for something either terrible or hilarious. Or maybe both. "What'd you do?"
"Why would you think we've done anything?" asked George, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.
"Uh, maybe because I've met you?" she countered, looking back at her task, working her knuckles into the dough on the tray before her.
"It was nothing too fancy," began Fred as he came to a stop by the fruit bowl sitting on the bench top, plucking a grape from the bunch and tossing it into the air, catching it perfectly in his mouth. "Just left your lovely foster parents a little gift or two, is all."
"Please tell me you didn't break the Decree of the Restriction of Underage Sorcery just for the sake of playing a joke on those two tossers," she said wryly, half expecting them to do just that. She honestly wouldn't have been surprised.
"I thought you loved a bad boy," Fred teased.
"You know I do," she smirked back playfully.
George cleared his throat noisily from where he was still stood in the doorjamb, and they turned to blink at him in surprise. Winona felt guilty that she'd actually forgotten he was even there at all. "Are you gonna spend all your time here cooking and hanging out with our mum instead of us?" George asked, arms crossed as he cocked an eyebrow at her.
"First of all, I'm baking," she corrected him tartly. "There's a difference. Secondly, Georgie, honestly – there's enough of me to go round."
Jokingly, Fred's eyes swept her newly developed body. "We've noticed," he said with a wag of his stupid eyebrows.
Reaching out she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it none-too-gently at his head. He didn't duck in time and it hit him clear between the eyes.
Letting out a loud curse, he flinched away.
"What did you just say, George Weasley?" his mother demanded shrilly as she stepped back into the room.
"Oi!" cried George indignantly. "If you're gonna yell at one of us, make sure it's the right one!"
"Sorry, George," she said, patting her son on the shoulder apologetically before turning to the other twin with wild eyes. "Fred Weasley!" she bellowed sharply, leaving Fred wilting and both George and Winona snickering at his misfortune.
Mrs Weasley forced both twins to sit at the counter as she put Winona to work shaping the pie crust. The four began to chat easily, falling into conversation with a relieving ease.
"So, what made you decide to come so soon, dear?" she asked Winona curiously as she began to mix together fruit for the pie. "We weren't expecting you for at least another week or so."
Winona lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "Just got tired of the Muggles, I suppose," she said, not a totally barefaced lie, but certainly omitting a lot of the truth.
"It was us, mum," said Fred loudly, spinning on his stool, unable to keep still. "She was having Weasley-withdrawals."
Winona scoffed out a laugh. "Sure," she said placatingly. "That's what it was."
It actually was, but she would rather walk through Fiendfyre than admit it. "Are you looking forward to the coming year?" asked Mrs Weasley. "Got all your summer homework done?"
Winona faltered. "Uh, no, I was waiting until I came here, to get it all finished with these guys," she said, another half-truth. She was really just procrastinating until the last possible second, but she also knew it would be easier to get done if they all did it together.
"Oh good, you can help the boys with theirs, too," Mrs Weasley said with a cheery smile. "I hear you're quite the whizz with Charms and Astronomy. Are they your favourite classes?"
"I like them well enough, but I'm best at Arithmancy."
"Is that so? Wouldn't have guessed it. You seem more the creative type, always drawing away in that little book of yours."
Winona shrugged. "Numbers have just always made sense to me," she said, but then didn't elaborate. She didn't know how to explain it any more than she could explain her ability to see the future.
Mrs Weasley moved on with the conversation, seeming to sense she was reluctant to go into it. "Any boys caught your eye at school, Winona?" she asked cheerfully, and the twins choked on the cookies they'd been eating. Horrified by the question, Winona ducked her head and tried to come up with a response. "Do you have anyone in mind? Anyone that you like?"
Inexplicably, Adam Bradley flew through her head, with his warm brown eyes and handsome, chiselled face, and her heart began to beat slightly faster. "Uh, no," she said, the answer made wholly unconvincing by the pink in her cheeks.
"That doesn't sound like a no to me, dear," sang Mrs Weasley, almost impish, and she suddenly wondered whether the twins hadn't gotten their mischievous streak from nowhere after all. The twins were gaping at the pair of them, and Winona got the feeling that they were, for once, actually embarrassed by something.
"Is it one of us?" asked Fred suddenly, voice loud to compensate for how uncomfortable he felt.
"You can tell us if it is," teased George, at his brother's side to the end.
Winona snorted loudly at how preposterous that sounded, and the twins made a big show of looking crestfallen at the brush-off. "Are we not good enough for you, Win?" asked Fred, clearly goading her.
She didn't rise to the bait, just rolling her eyes and stepping over to the sink to wash the excess dough from her hands as Mrs Weasley began to fill the crust she'd made with the fruity innards. "Yeah, Win, what's wrong with us?" pouted George.
"You really don't wanna open that can of worms, boys," Winona laughed. The twins snorted in response.
"Go on, you lot," said Mrs Weasley with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Go play Quidditch, or even better, get a start on that homework, and leave me to work in peace."
"You heard the woman," piped George, hooking an arm around Winona's neck and beginning to drag her away. "Let's go play some Quidditch."
For as long as Winona could remember, she'd grown up in houses that had never, ever been homes. And over the next week she was treated to something she doubted she would ever experience anywhere else; a sense of belonging.
She'd never been around a big family until the Weasley's – apart from her short stint in an orphanage when she was eight – and sometimes she felt like she was observing the habits of a whole different species. The way they all thundered down the stairs for meals, or the way their mother called for one child, only to receive four shouted replies in return. The Burrow was more lived in than any home she'd ever visited. It felt eternally warm, as if no matter how cold it got outside, the inside would always be toasty and comforting, like your favourite sweater on a biting winter's day.
Winona balanced her time between spending it with the twins, Ginny and Mrs Weasley. She helped to prepare most meals, and during the day she could usually be found elbow deep in dough, making cookies or slice or some other treat that ended up as nothing but crumbs within the first five minutes of it being done.
Ginny liked to hang out in the kitchen with her as she baked. They would listen to the wireless, and she would educate Winona about the different bands that played on her favourite station. Her favourite was by far the Weird Sisters, and more than once Fred and George had burst into the room, intent on dragging Winona out into their shenanigans, only to find her spinning around the kitchen with a giggling Ginny, bashing her head enthusiastically to the music.
Some nights before dinner she would play chess with Ron, who was just glad someone would play with him at all – most of his family refused, already knowing he would win.
But whenever she wasn't busy with the rest of the massive Weasley family, she was holed away with the twins, helping them scheme and plan pranks for the coming school year. Sometimes they would go out and play Quidditch, claiming they needed to sharpen their skills for the House team, but Winona knew they just liked to play, getting out in the sunshine and fresh air did them good.
As the days went by she began to observe that Ron seemed edgy. He was writing a lot of letters, and frowning whenever mail came that wasn't for him. "What's the matter?" she finally broke and asked one day, plopping down next to him on the couch, the cushion dipping beneath her.
"It's Harry," he revealed without any further prompting.
"What about him?" she asked, suddenly concerned.
"He's not answering my letters," he told glumly. "I think something's wrong."
"That's strange. He hasn't answered any letters?"
"Not a single one." Ron perked up suddenly, spinning around to pin her with a bright-eyed, hopeful expression. "Hey, you're a Seer, right?!" he exclaimed rather loudly.
She hushed him, reaching out to slap him gently upside the head. He flinched and held the place she'd hit him. "Say it louder, why don't you? I don't think someone in Surrey heard you," she hissed. He shot her an apologetic wince.
"You're a Seer," he said again, this time in a quieter voice.
"Yes," she replied, getting a tighter hold on her patience, ensuring the reins wouldn't snap. "Why?"
"You can tell me what's wrong," he whispered. "You can look into the future and tell me if he's okay!"
"It doesn't work like that, Ron," she shook her head. "I usually can't just look, it isn't something I can-" She was suddenly eating her own words, feeling a persistent pressure in the backs of her eyes. "Shit," she cursed, spinning where she sat, desperately searching for something to write on. She usually never went anywhere without her bag of art supplies – just in case – but she hadn't thought she'd needed to somewhere like the Burrow. "Go get the twins," she hissed at Ron.
"What? Why?" he asked, confused.
"Do it!" she said shrilly, dropping her head in her hands and doing everything she could to stave off the oncoming vision. With a yelp Ron toppled off the couch, racing from the room in search of his brothers.
Winona breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to use the meditation techniques that Trelawney had been teaching her the last three years. She'd never held off a vision for so long before, but she didn't want to let it pull her under until she had something in her hands to draw with. She knew how messy it could be if she didn't.
A few moments later the twins were catapulting into the room and she was relieved when she felt a piece of parchment thrust into her hands, along with a self-inking quill that she supposed they'd nicked from Percy.
Without acknowledging them, Winona simply let the current of time take her under. She drifted, reality's sensation slipping away, replaced with possibilities of the future. She smelt fumes, like those from a car. There was a vibrating, a sort of rumbling beneath her, and she could hear the shouts of a familiar voice that she couldn't quite place.
It was over as quickly as it had began, but as she blinked back to the present the sketch on the paper before her proved she'd been out of it much longer than it had seemed.
Sitting there, detailed on the spare parchment, was a car. There were four heads inside of it, and it appeared to be hovered off the ground, idle beside a second-storey window with bars soldered to the window pane. Through the thick bars she could just make out the tiny, shocked face of one Harry Potter.
"She's back," said Fred's voice in her ear, and she looked up to see him sitting beside her, utterly casual under the circumstances. Ron was standing a few feet away, looking a little more pale than usual. Turning her head she saw that George was leaning casually in the doorway, keeping a lookout.
"Back?" Ron asked in confusion. "But she never went anywhere."
"It's what we call it when she has a vision," explained Fred easily. "Because while her body's there, her mind isn't."
"Well, what'd she draw?" asked Ron curiously.
"She has a name," snapped Winona sternly, and Ron had the decency to look ashamed. "See for yourself," she said with a roll of her eyes, taking pity on the kid and holding out her sketch. He stared down at it with wide eyes.
"It's the Ford Anglia!" exclaimed Ron.
"You know the car?" she asked in surprise.
"Yeah, it's our dad's," George said, wandering over to take a peek over Ron's shoulder. "Is that Harry, in the window there?"
"Looks like it," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "This means we have to go get him! All of us!"
"I mean, you don't have to do anything," Winona told him seriously. "From what I can tell, my visions are subjective – the future isn't set in stone-"
"When can we leave?" Ron interrupted her, turning impatiently towards his brothers.
Fred grinned, the expression just a little crooked in a way she'd never noticed before. "We can go tonight, once mum's in bed." He turned to Winona expectantly. "I'm not going to bother asking if you're in."
"I could say no, y'know?" she sniffed, playing miffed.
"There're four people in that car," George pointed out smartly. "And I can guarantee one of them isn't Ginny."
She knew they had her, and they knew it too. She didn't need any convincing in the first place, but she still rolled her eyes and plucked the sketch from Ron's hands, eyeing it for a moment before folding it up and shoving it deep into her back pocket.
Night came quickly and although Winona was no stranger to trouble, the idea of going behind Mrs Weasley's back made her uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to betray the woman's trust. Winona didn't care what many people thought of her, but Mrs Weasley was one of the few whose opinion she actually gave a damn about.
She might have almost pulled out of the whole thing, if not for the image of Harry's face, wide eyed and locked in, on the piece of parchment. He was trapped, somewhere with bars on the windows, just as she had been not so very long ago. And she knew, whether with Mrs Weasley's blessing or not, she was going to rescue him.
They made sure Mrs Weasley was in bed and snoring away before they all met in the living room and silently snuck out of the house. The summer air was warm and Winona pushed up the sleeves of her old knitted jumper as they made their way towards the garage, where the car lay in wait.
It was large and blue, kind of an older model, but she could tell that Mr Weasley took care of it.
"How come it flies?" she asked the twins in a whisper as they slowly began to push it from the garage, along the driveway where they could get far enough away to start the engine so Mrs Weasley wouldn't hear.
"You've met our dad," snorted Fred. "What d'you think?"
It didn't seem like much of an answer, but as she thought about it, she had to admit it made sense. Their dad was just batty enough to do something like enchant a Ford Anglia to fly. It was rather brilliant, really. She was sure there were laws about this sort of thing, and the fact that Mr Weasley had done it anyway – even despite working where he did – made her grin.
As they pushed the car further away from the house, Ron kept glancing over his shoulder, paranoid that his mother would come racing down the driveway, throwing hexes after the car in an attempt to stop them.
Luckily, it didn't come to that.
They made their way to the end of the road and all climbed in. Fred and George took a moment to argue about who got to drive, finally settling it with a game of Giants, Wizards, Elves. George won, and shot his brother a smug look as he kicked back in the driver's seat.
Ron tried to slip into the passenger side, but Fred caught him by the scruff. "Ladies always get the front seat," he chided the younger wizard, and though Ron shook him off he still stepped aside and let Winona take the passenger side. She shot Fred an amused grin over the seat, and he shot her a wink in return.
"I have some questions," she stated as George began to drive normally, slowly making his way down the road away from the Burrow. Ron still glanced out the window every few moments, part of him still sure his mother would appear and curse them all straight into St Mungo's.
"Fire away," Fred called from the backseat, arms folded behind his head as he sat back and enjoyed the ride.
"What happens when the Muggles see a flying car pass over their heads?"
She caught George's grin from the corner of her eye. "See that button?" he asked, pointing to a little red button on the console between them before continuing without waiting for a response. "Built in invisibility booster."
"Really?" she asked, fascinated. She'd never really considered it before, but Mr Weasley must have been an incredibly intelligent wizard to make a Muggle car not only fly, but turn invisible too.
It seemed relatively simple to take off, nothing at all like a plane, though she supposed that was thanks to the magic. She took the liberty of hitting the invisibility booster the moment they were off the ground. She was no stranger to trouble, but the last thing she needed was a trial that resulted in imprisonment for misuse of magic. She wasn't sure if they allowed art supplies in Azkaban.
The drive was filled with chatter, the twins throwing out increasingly ridiculous theories about what Harry did to earn himself barred windows. They made Winona laugh until her stomach hurt, but Ron didn't seem to find it as funny, grumbling about Harry not being half the trouble they were, and about how horrible his family was to him.
Winona felt a pang of empathy, and wondered whether Dumbledore knew how Harry was treated at home. Surely he wouldn't have let it go on if he knew. She resolved to talk to the Headmaster about it when she saw him once the term began.
As they got closer to Surrey, where Harry lived with his horrible Aunt and Uncle, Fred pulled a map out from seemingly nowhere. "You wanna be on navigation duty?" he offered Winona, who nodded, taking the map from him and holding it in front of her.
"Little Whinging, you said?" she asked over the sound of the grumbling engine, tracing her fingertips over the lines on the map, scouring the possible routes to find the best way to the Dursley's house.
"That's it," Ron shouted suddenly, leaning over the seats to point wildly out of the car. "The one with the bars, like from Winnie's picture!"
"Think you can pull up beside the window?" Winona asked George, who shot her a smirk before pulling into place like he'd been operating flying vehicles his entire life.
They all peered through the bars, locking eyes with Harry, who looked more than slightly stunned to see them hovering there, casual as could be in a flying Ford Anglia. "How did you – what the –?" the Boy-Who-Lived stammered, green eyes comically wide as he stared at them in pure shock.
"Wotcher, Harry," Winona greeted him from the passenger's seat, leaning from the window and shooting him what she hoped was a comforting smile. She could understand how the whole situation may have been overwhelming. The twelve year-old gaped, utterly speechless.
"What's been going on?" Ron demanded, the words spilling out of his mouth faster than they could process. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, then dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles-"
"It wasn't me – and how did he know?"
The pair squabbled for a moment, exchanging hurried words back and forth before Winona started to get anxious, knowing the longer they hovered there, the more likely they were to be discovered.
"Oi, chatty-Cathy – do you think now's really the best time to be be catching up?" she asked the pair dryly.
"Right," muttered Ron, tips of his ears burning red. "We've come to take you home with us."
"But you can't magic me out either-"
"We don't need to," Ron said proudly. "You forgot who I've got with me." He gestured lazily to the twins who shot Harry identical shit-eating grins that were only slightly unsettling, for they all knew trouble usually followed.
"Tie that around the bars," Fred instructed Ron, passing over the end of a long rope that Winona realised they must have stashed there earlier.
"If the Dursley's wake up, I'm dead," Harry told them quickly, casting a paranoid glance at the door.
"Don't worry. We've got it under control," Fred assured him through that large, impish grin. "And stand back." Harry did as he was told. "Ready?" the redhead asked his brother, and George tossed him a wide smile before revving the engine and moving forwards, yanking the bars off the window in one smooth movement then tilting the car up, ensuring the metal bars wouldn't hit the ground.
The twins cheered softly, Winona clapping George's shoulder proudly. Ron scrambled to hoist the bars into the backseat as George reversed the car back up to the window, ready for the young wizard to hop aboard. "Get in," Ron urged him.
Harry argued, telling them that all his Hogwarts luggage, including his wand and broom, were locked in a cupboard downstairs. "No problem, Harry," Fred quickly interjected, turning and holding a hand out to Winona expectantly.
She sighed exasperatedly, reaching up into her blonde locks to pull a hairpin from her braids, placing it into his waiting palm. "Try not to lose this one."
"No promises," he replied cheekily from behind her, but before she could reply he and George were clamouring from the car. With George's weight on top of her she grunted, shoving him out the window before he suffocated her to death.
"Keep it idle, Win," said George as they dropped into Harry's room. Sighing in exasperation, Winona climbed over to the driver's side, holding the wheel steady and hoping what little knowledge she had of cars would be enough to keep them from crashing.
The twins made quick work of the locks on Harry's door, then disappeared out of sight.
Winona couldn't help but feel a hint of despair appear in her stomach, like a thick bar of iron sitting low in her gut. She kept her concerns to herself, merely letting the floating car idle by the younger Wizard's window, watching closely as Harry raced around his room at top speeds, collecting his things as quickly and as quietly as he could.
She wondered what the Muggles might do to the twins if they caught them, but if there was one thing she knew above all else, it was that the twins could look after themselves.
Ron pulled Harry's things from him, tossing them in the back before finally the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared out the bedroom door, presumably to help Fred and George with his trunk. From all the way outside, Winona could hear somebody coughing from inside the house, and she felt uneasy again, swallowing around the unpleasant sensation and tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
Fred reappeared first and he, along with the others, began feeding the heavy trunk through the open window. Winona didn't want to move from the driver's seat for safety reasons, but she figured they probably had it handled.
"A bit more," panted Fred, who was now pulling from inside the car. "One good push —"
Harry and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car. "Okay, let's go," George whispered, relief colouring his voice.
Harry began to climb over the windowsill, but Winona felt another chill, and instantly she knew what had been forgotten. "Harry!" she hissed with urgency. "Hedwig!"
As she spoke, a loud screech pierced the otherwise quiet air, and Harry gasped, going pale in abject horror.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!" the horrible Muggle from inside bellowed, and though Winona's instinct was to step on the accelerator and get the hell out of dodge, she knew she had to wait as long as possible, at least long enough for Harry to collect Hedwig and get his skinny arse into the car.
The bedroom door burst open, flooding the delinquents with harsh light. The twins reacted on instinct, they didn't hesitate to grasp onto Harry's arms, yanking him into the car with them.
"Petunia!" roared the awful uncle, leaping forwards with all the speed his blubbery body could manage. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"
The Weasley boys gave a final tug and Harry's leg slid out of his Uncle Vernon's grasp. Ron was on top of it and the moment his mate was inside the car, the door had slammed shut. Nobody needed to prompt Winona; the second the door was closed she slammed her foot down on the pedal, tearing off into the night sky, her eyes stuck to the moon like it were her destination.
"See you next summer!" Harry yelled out of the back window, sounding completely giddy with the excitement of the whole thing.
Fred and George laughed loudly, throwing their heads back in merriment. Ron patted Harry firmly on the shoulder as he laughed. Winona chuckled, shaking her head at the sheer madness she'd been roped into, levelling out the flying vehicle and once more slamming her hand down onto the invisibility booster.
"Let Hedwig out," Harry told Ron a few moments later, and when Winona glanced back at him over her shoulder, his cheeks were flushed red. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."
George handed Winona's hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost in the night. She thought the bird's glowing white feathers looked beautiful in the moonlight, and made a mental note to try and recreate it on paper as soon as she had a chance.
"Now that we're in the air, one of you lads wanna take the wheel?" she asked the twins. "Because I'll be honest, I don't really know how to drive a flying car."
Fred snorted. "Switch with me," he said as he began to clamour over the front seat. Rolling her eyes, Winona copied his movements, climbing clumsily over the seat until she dropped into place beside a grinning Harry and Ron.
"So — what's the story, Harry?" the latter asked impatiently, unable to wait any longer for answers. "What's been happening?"
"There was this...House Elf?" the Boy-Who-Lived began, and everyone turned to him with raised eyebrows, wondering where exactly this was headed. He hesitated under their stares, but continued on quickly. "His name was Dobby. He just showed up in my room, telling me that terrible things were going to happen at Hogwarts this year, and that I couldn't go back."
"What?" Ron had never sounded so bewildered.
"And he's been stealing all my mail! I never got any of your letters! I thought you'd all forgotten about me," he added dejectedly. The other occupants of the car only continued to look befuddled, trying to understand, and with a huff, Harry launched into a far more detailed explanation, telling them all about Dobby, his warning and the whole fiasco involving some creatively used pudding.
"Very fishy," Fred was the first to speak, bemused as he turned to look at Harry over his shoulder, eyes narrowed in thought.
"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "Don't suppose you've had any visions on the subject, dear Winona?" he asked, peeking his head over the seat and smiling at her hopefully.
"No such luck," she said absently, staring out the window, trying to understand the feeling of dread still sitting unwelcome in her gut. There were a few things she'd drawn, none of which made a lick of sense, but she was now getting the feeling that it was all connected. She'd have to talk to the twins about it. Alone. No need to frighten the children.
"Damn," George cursed, relaxing back in his seat. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff, Harry?"
"I don't think he could," said the messy-haired youngster, a frown sitting on his youthful face. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."
Fred and George shot each other a meaningful look that Winona caught sight Fred cast her a look, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. Harry was the first to speak. "What, you think he was lying to me?" he asked, confused.
"Well," began Fred, "put it this way — House Elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission." Winona suddenly understood, they thought somebody had sent the little Elf. She supposed it made sense. She didn't know too much about House Elves, but what she did know was that they weren't exactly a free species. "I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"
Winona laughed when Harry and Ron answered, "yes," as one entity.
"Draco Malfoy," the Boy-Who-Lived explained with something of a bitter scowl on his face when she glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, as though the name itself tasted bad on his tongue. "He hates me."
"Draco Malfoy?" George repeated dubiously. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" replied Harry. "Why?"
"I've heard Dad talking about him. He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."
"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," added Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung — Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."
"The kid's a bloody ferret," Winona spoke up absently, one hand casually draped out of the open window. The air blowing into her face was ice cold. It made her skin sting and she knew her hair was going to look atrocious when they stopped, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.
"What makes you say that?" Fred asked curiously from the driver's seat.
"Dunno," she murmured with a hum, eyes on the horizon. "Just, every time I look at him, I see a ferret."
Fred snorted with amusement, but Harry was still talking seriously from beside them, and they both pulled themselves back into the conversation.
"I don't know whether the Malfoy's own a house-elf..." the boy was saying, a pensive look on his face.
"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred.
"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," added George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house..."
"I happen to love your lousy old ghoul," Winona piped up. "Gives the Burrow more character."
"Just what it needs," Fred joked. "More character."
George and Winona laughed, but the younger two remained silent, not seeming to see the humour in the comment.
"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," Ron spoke up next, the relief obvious in his tone. His voice was just beginning to break, something the twins snickered about whenever they had the chance. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first —"
"Who's Errol?" Harry interrupted confusedly.
"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —"
"Who?"
"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front, nose crinkled at the thought of his stuck up older brother.
"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," continued Ron. "Said he needed him."
"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room… I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge."
Winona broke, the comment catching her by surprise. She threw her head and laughed, the sounds echoing around the small interior of the car. Fred snickered at the sound of it, loud and unrestrained as it was.
"Was that a euphemism?" she wondered as she laughed.
"What's a euphemism?" asked Ron, face scrunched at the unfamiliar word.
Winona smothered her laughter and sank down further in her seat. "Never mind."
"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" asked Harry as it suddenly occurred to him.
"Er, no," muttered Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."
"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?" Harry sounded happy as he asked, lightly curious as he relaxed into the backseat, smiling at his best friend. Winona could feel his relief like it were a tangible thing and she smiled, happy he was happy.
She would most definitely be talking to Dumbledore about Harry's summer accomodations. If they were even a fraction similar to hers, then there was going to be a problem.
"He works in the most boring department," Ron replied. "The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," he said like it were the most boring title ever.
"Hey, don't knock it," Winona barked, tossing the younger boy a look over her shoulder.
Ron rolled his eyes at her, looking over at Harry who asked, "the what?"
"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antique's shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare — Dad was working overtime for weeks," he told Harry, who was hooked in by the story that Winona had already heard.
"What happened?"
"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic — it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office — and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up —"
"But your dad — this car..."
Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."
"It's completely brilliant," Winona told Harry, tossing a grin at him from over her shoulder. "Prepare to be asked about different kinds of plugs, and how exactly an air conditioner works."
Harry only looked more bemused. "I don't know how an air conditioner works."
"If it were anyone else I'd just tell you to say 'magic', but that's kind of the opposite of the answer he's looking for, isn't it?" she mused, throwing a wink at the kid for good measure.
"That's the main road," George piped up, leaning over to peer down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes. Just as well, it's getting light..."
The horizon was turning faintly pinkish, and Winona's mind drifted to the exact mix of colours she'd have to use to replicate it. Fred began to gently bring the car down, making the dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees visible in the ever-growing light.
"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."
"Great little town," Winona said conversationally. "They've got a post office that sells pencils at a discount!"
Nobody else seemed as excited as she was about this scrap of trivia, but she didn't let it bother her, refocusing her attention on the ground, which grew steadily closer with every passing heartbeat. The sun had peeked over the horizon, but now they were sunken into the trees, the rays muted, trickling through the thick branches and leaves.
"Touchdown!" cried Fred exuberantly as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. He pulled up beside the garage, putting the car into park in the exact same spot it had been in before.
Winona breathed a sigh of relief, glad they'd made it back in one piece. Her door cracked open and she realised Fred had opened it for her. She shot him a grateful smile but he was barely paying attention, scanning the windows of the Burrow for any hint of his mother.
"It's not much," Ron was saying self-consciously. Winona cast him a frown, she couldn't understand how he could ever be embarrassed; the Burrow was the most homely home in the whole history of homes, and he shouldn't have even for a second been ashamed of it. It almost made her angry.
"It's wonderful," Harry sighed, and Winona knew then that he felt the same way about the Burrow as she did; and he hadn't even seen the inside yet.
"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," began Fred, leading them across the yard. Winona stayed close, hands tucked into her pockets as she narrowed her eyes against the glare of the now-bright sun. "We'll wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."
Winona turned to him, an eyebrow cocked in bemusement. "That's actually not a bad plan," she murmured, surprised.
"You could sound less shocked," Fred rolled his blue eyes. Winona laughed, only for the sound to cut off with something of a strangled heave.
Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, a fury on her face that made the young Seer's life flash briefly before her eyes. She gulped, watching the plump witch storm towards them and wondering just how severe their punishment was going to be. She didn't have parents Mrs Weasley could dob her into, but somehow that wasn't so much comforting as it was just sad.
"Ah," murmured Fred despondently, shoulders slumping.
"Well, boys," Winona said from the corner of her mouth. "It's been nice knowing you."
The Weasley matriarch came to a halt directly in front of them, eyes narrowed as she looked from one wincing child to the next. The flowery apron she wore clashed with her furious expression, but the wand poking out from the pocket warned them not to be smart about it.
"Morning, Mum," said George in his most innocent tone, but Winona saw right through it, which meant his mother most definitely did too.
"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a deadly whisper. Winona gulped, tugging at the hem of her ratty old shirt. Whispers were always the worst, who knew what kind of fury was bubbling just beneath the surface?
"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —"
Fred, George and Ron were all taller than Mrs Weasley, but each of them cowered under her seething rage as though she were a giant.
"Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I've lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —"
Instantly Winona knew this was a bad thing to say, as far as the twins were concerned.
"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred bitterly, just as she'd known he would.
"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" the aging witch bellowed, infuriated. Well, at least she wasn't whispering any more. That was something, Winona supposed. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —"
Winona tuned out, eyes on the ground as she patiently waited for the shouting to be over. It must have been at least ten minutes later that Mrs Weasley finally grew hoarse, unable to continue screaming as she no doubt wished she could.
"However I am very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she finally said, rounding on Harry, who backed away smartly. "And you," she added, spinning around to narrow her eyes at Winona, who gulped once more. "I expected better from you, Winona."
"Don't be mad at her, mum!" Fred cried quickly. "It was our idea!"
"Yeah, we made her do it!" George agreed without pause.
Mrs Weasley looked skeptical, but after a long moment she just sighed. "Come in and have some breakfast," she told Harry, and the Boy-Who-Lived had never looked more bewildered as she turned and strode calmly back into the house.
Winona let out a sigh of relief, knowing it was over, at least for the time being. She nudged George, then Fred, sending them a wide eyed look of exasperation. The pair only sighed back, heading after their mother, for once completely silent.
The Burrow seemed to greet Winona with a hug, just as it always did. She stepped into its warmth, heading immediately for the kitchen. "What can I do to help, Mrs Weasley?" she asked hopefully, desperately wishing she could somehow make up for the trouble she'd helped cause.
She was similar to the twins in many ways, but unlike the identical boys, she tended to take the time to clean up after the messes she – and often they – left behind.
"Alright," Mrs Weasley huffed, still irritated but thankfully not refusing her. "You can scramble the eggs."
Relieved to have been given a task, Winona hurried to begin cracking the eggs into the pan on the stove, grabbing the correct equipment and setting about her task. Mrs Weasley muttered occasionally under her breath, but she tended to do that when she was processing her children's stupidity, so Winona thought nothing of it, continuing on with her task as calmly as she could.
Breakfast was short work, half of it done by magic, the other parts done by the skilled Mrs Weasley and Winona, who was something of her protégé.
"I don't blame you, dear," she was assuring Harry when Winona wandered over to the table where the boys all sat, shovelling an excess of sausages onto his plate. Winona moved over to the twins, giving them each generous helpings of her eggs. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —"
The witch flicked her wand at the sink and the dishes began to clean themselves. Winona moved over to Harry, quietly asking him how much he wanted. She watched him, taking note of his sheer bemusement as he watched a pair of knitting needles in the corner working on a scarf without anyone holding them.
"It was cloudy, Mum!" argued Fred, a bit of egg flying from his lips. Winona rolled her eyes as she took her seat beside him, tossing a napkin in his face before picking up her cutlery and beginning to cut her sausages into bite-sized pieces.
"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs Weasley snapped.
"They were starving him, Mum!" cried George, exposing a mouthful of chewed sausage and bread.
"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley. Harry looked mystified as she began cutting and buttering his bread for him, and Winona looked down to hide a grin.
She looked up when footsteps entered the room and spotted Ginny standing in her long, ratty nightdress. The moment she noticed Harry her eyes went the size of dinner plates and she gave a small squeak, hightailing it out of there like somebody had lit a fire underneath her. Winona covered her mouth to laugh, exchanging amused looks with the twins.
"Ginny," Ron whispered to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."
Ginny had mentioned Harry more than once during their late night talks, neither of them tired enough to sleep. Winona got the feeling she was starved for female companionship, and she didn't mind chatting with the girl to keep her company. It became clear after a while, however, that the little girl was more than slightly besotted with Harry.
"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred added with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all their plates were clean, which took an unsurprisingly short amount of time. "Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and —"
"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again —"
"Oh, Mum —" he tried to complain.
"And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and George. "You as well, Winona," she added, and the blonde witch ducked her head meekly. "You can go up to bed, dear," she said to Harry. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car-"
"I'll help Ron!" Harry insisted eagerly, though Winona couldn't fathom why. "I've never seen a de-gnoming —"
"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," Mrs. Weasley tittered. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject —"
And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned rather loudly, but Winona had no idea who this 'Lockhart' bloke was, and as such, didn't have an opinion. She could tell, however, from Fred and George's crinkled expressions, that she probably wasn't going to like him.
"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —"
Winona ducked her head in an effort to get a better look at the book, and she was surprised to see a rather handsome man on the cover. He had wavy blonde hair and bright eyes that kept winking up at them. He was ridiculously attractive, and Winona found herself wondering if he was that appealing in person.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to draw him; but she'd get around to it eventually.
"Oh, he is marvellous," Mrs Weasley was saying, an enraptured look on her rounded features as she stared down at the photograph fondly. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..."
"Mum fancies him," commented Fred slyly, and Winona choked on her sip of juice.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," his mother snapped, though her cheeks had turned a soft pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."
Winona grumbled but did as she was told.
"Bet I can get mine further than yours," she muttered Fred and George, who cast her narrow-eyed looks.
"We'll take that action with one stipulation," George said slowly.
"Name it."
"Are you saying that as a competitive bird, or a Seer?"
"Competitive bird," she replied with a laugh. They both agreed, knowing the usual bet stood – a hoard of chocolate frogs kept for this very occasion.
She was the first to catch one, spinning around fast enough to make her full stomach ache. The gnome flew over the fence and beyond the stump that sat in the middle of the field. Harry looked bewildered by the strange method, but once one bit into his hand, he had no qualms about tossing them ruthlessly over the fence.
"See, they're not too bright," George was saying, seizing five or six gnomes at once. They practically had it down to an art form. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."
Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.
"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here...Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny."
"He's not wrong," Winona murmured to Fred, who rolled his eyes but said nothing.
The front door slammed, the sound travelling through the open house, and the redheads lit up like Christmas trees. "He's back!" exclaimed George, reminding Winona starkly of a young child. "Dad's home!"
Mr Weasley looked haggard, his thinning hair sitting messily atop his head, robes crumpled and dusty. "What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. Winona reached out, pushing the teapot into his searching hand. He was too exhausted to even notice, grabbing it blindly and pouring himself a cup. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..."
"Find anything, Dad?" questioned Fred eagerly.
"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," said Mr Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness..."
He was tired, yawning every other word, rubbing at his eyes.
"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" asked George.
"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it...of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face." Winona was incredibly interested – she'd always loved stories from Mr Weasley's work. It was never boring, no matter what Ron liked to think. "But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe —"
"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"
Mrs Weasley's voice was shrill enough that Mr Weasley's tired eyes jerked open. "C-cars, Molly, dear?" he stammered, and if it wasn't obvious he was guilty before, it sure as hell was now.
"Yes, Arthur, cars," replied Mrs Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."
Mr Weasley blinked. "Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth...there's a loophole in the law, you'll find. As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't —"
"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs Weasley, irate. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"
"Harry?" echoed Mr Weasley blankly. "Harry who?" He finally noticed Harry, seeming to startle at the sight of the famous young wizard sitting in his kitchen. "Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about —"
"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" shouted Mrs Weasley, giving them no chance to get acquainted. "What have you got to say about that?"
"Did you really?" said Mr Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right?"
Winona laughed aloud, but just as quickly silenced herself when Mrs Weasley's eyes shot to her like daggers.
"I — I mean," he faltered as sparks seemed to fly from Mrs Weasley's eyes, "that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed..."
Mrs Weasley was clearly gearing up for more shouting, and Winona noticed Harry and Ron slip away, then nudged the twins to do the same. They escaped just as their mum began to yell at their dad, and Winona sighed with relief as they began to climb the stairs.
"We'd invite you up for more mischief, but you look as exhausted as we feel," George said as brightly as he could, being as tired as he was.
"A nap wouldn't be out of order," she told them, reaching up to cover her mouth as she yawned. "I'll see you goblins later."
"Who're you calling goblins, you pixie?" Fred asked slyly. Winona only smiled back before kicking him in the shin and disappearing inside Ginny's room, grinning to herself proudly as she listened to him curse from the other side of the door, his twin laughing merrily at his pain.
The youngest Weasley was sat on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared at the far wall.
"You okay, Gin?" Winona asked, dropping to her knees and dragging her trunk closer to her, cracking it open and beginning to rifle around inside for something comfortable to change into.
"I can't believe Harry Potter saw me in my nightgown," Ginny groaned like this was the most mortifying thing to ever happen to her in her young life, dropping back and burying her face in her threadbare pillows.
"Harry doesn't care," Winona told her with a small chuckle, standing to her feet and kicking off her worn old jeans and jumper, slipping on an old shirt and crawling into the spare bed that she used every time she visited the Burrow. The mattress had springs sticking out of it, poking into her back whenever she rolled over, but she'd gotten used to it, able to sleep without them bothering her.
"He's Harry Potter, Winona," Ginny told her seriously, as though this was supposed to change the way she thought about him.
"So?" she asked, genuinely not understanding. He was just Harry, a small, troubled kid with a big mouth and the weight of the world on his thin little shoulders. Who cared that he was arguably one of the most famous wizards of the century? She'd seen him at school, half asleep over his homework, drool dripping from his lips onto his parchment, much to Hermione's disgust. Once you've seen him like that, it was easy to get over the whole 'took-down-the-greatest-dark-wizard-this-land-has-ever-known' thing. "You'll get over the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing," she assured Ginny, who looked horrified at the implication. "Seriously, the novelty wears off."
"I don't think it ever will for me," Ginny whispered, breathless.
"Aren't you too young to have a crush on a boy?" Winona asked, voice muffled by her pillows as she struggled to stay awake.
"No," Ginny snapped defensively, and Winona grinned into her blanket. "And it isn't a crush! I just think he's – he's wonderful..."
"In twenty years, when you're married to him, I'm gonna get that printed on a t-shirt for your anniversary gift," she mumbled sleepily. Ginny let out a grumbled insult, but Winona was already too asleep to hear.