Cornelius Fudge – Minister for fucking Magic – stood beside Dumbledore's desk, face red like he'd just been holding his breath, or more like shouting at the Headmaster, given the raised voices she'd heard through the closed door.
For a moment Winona could only stand there, staring dumbly at the Minister, lost for words. Fudge seemed to realise the whole moment was painfully awkward and tried to cover it by arranging his expression into a perfunctory smile.
"Miss Andrews," he said, voice croaky, smile insincere. He took several large steps forwards, hand outstretched. Cautious, Winona's eyes cut to Dumbledore. He was stood by his chair, and if he was angered by whatever he and Fudge had been talking about, it wasn't showing on his face. The guy was an emotional vault. He nodded once towards Fudge, as if encouraging her on.
Perplexed, Winona reluctantly took the Minister's hand, shaking politely. "Minister," she greeted him, voice admittedly a little stale. "Er, hi."
"Miss Andrews," he said again, holding her hand in both of his. "What an honour it is to meet you at last."
The moment it was socially acceptable, Winona removed her hand from his grip and tucked them both into the back pockets of her ratty old jeans. "Um, me?" she asked with a blink. How did the Minster for Magic even know who she was? And why in the name of Merlin's saggy left nut was he honoured to meet her?
"Indeed," he told her enthusiastically. "It's not everyday one gets to meet a genuine Seer."
Oh. She realised what this was about. That fucking article. So far, other than the bottomless scorn of her less than open-minded peers, that stupid article had had no visible ramifications. But now here she was, stood in front of the Minister for Magic – who was looking at her in a kind of hungry way that made her want to throw a stunning spell and book it back to Gryffindor Tower.
"Right," she finally murmured, looking back at Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look thunderous, which she supposed boded somewhat well. She turned back to Fudge. "Um, forgive me, Minister, but I have to ask. You're here because…?"
Fudge seemed to be trying to draw himself up to his full height, which wasn't particularly impressive, but still made Winona uneasy. "I'm here, Miss Andrews, to extend something of an offer."
Winona hesitated, a pit appearing in her gut. "An offer," she echoed, toneless.
Fudge smiled again, and she didn't like that very much at all. He swept a hand towards her usual chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. "Won't you take a seat?"
Feeling like she didn't have a choice, Winona reluctantly sank down onto the seat, brow furrowed as she stared up at Fudge, who was now perched on the edge of the Headmaster's desk like a power-hungry authority figure trying to come across as less threatening. She didn't like that, either.
Dumbledore took a seat in his own chair, steepling his fingers in front of him, watching all of this happen through inscrutable eyes.
"Miss Andrews," Fudge began, beady eyes on her, the weight of them uncomfortable, "ever since the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, we have always kept our eye on those of rising talent in the subtle art of Divination. As I'm sure you're aware, gifts of your calibre are…rather invaluable."
She wasn't liking where this was heading at all, and her hands twisted together tightly in her lap.
"Usually we discover True Seers at a younger age – but given that Professor Dumbledore," he spat the Headmaster's name like it were an Unforgivable Curse, "neglected to inform the Ministry of the significant promise of your abilities, we are only now able to extend our offer of guidance and partnership in this endeavour."
Winona blinked. "Um, which endeavour is that, exactly?"
Now Fudge looked confused. "Well – to make your way in the world as a Seer, it takes connections. It takes training, and resources. Every great Seer ever born into Great Britain has worked alongside this administration to help bolster the Ministry's standing and prepare our world – our people – for what is to come-"
"Sorry," Winona interrupted him, still frowning. "But I don't want to be a professional Seer. I never have."
Fudge appeared blindsided. "You have different career plans?"
Winona felt unease settle like dust on her insides, making them feel dry and foreign. "My plan is to be an artist," she told him, hating how self-conscious the simple words made her feel.
Fudge's eyebrows hiked up even higher. "An artist?" he repeated like it were a word he'd never before heard.
"My goal is to create a name for myself in the art industry, and eventually make a living selling paintings," she told him. "I know it's a rather unorthodox career path for a witch to take, but it's what I've always wanted to do."
The Minister didn't seem to know what to say, staring at her like she'd just spoken fluent Gobbledegook.
"I'd say that answers your question, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, a note of amusement in his husky, ancient voice.
Fudge took a deep breath and tried again. "Miss Andrews, what I'm offering is a mutually beneficial arrangement," he said with false patience. "I assure you, you will be very well compensated for your contributions to the Ministry-"
"What arrangement would this be, exactly?" Winona interrupted him again. There were probably rules against that sort of thing – what with him being the leader of their world and all – but Winona never had been very good with authority.
"Well, once you've graduated in little more than a year, you would be brought on as a full-time Ministry consultant, for which would would be handsomely compensated-"
"Consultant on what?" she demanded.
He began to turn red again, but he managed to keep his temper. "On any and all matters deemed pertinent by the Minister for Magic."
Winona crossed her arms tightly. "So I would, what? Sit in an office all day trying to bring on visions about things you want me to?" she asked. It hardly sounded like her dream job. In fact, it sounded closer to her idea of hell.
Fudge spluttered a moment. "I assure you, Miss Andrews, it's a highly esteemed position. You would be High Seer to the Minister for Magic-"
"You know you can just say you, right?" she interjected dryly. "We all know who the Minister is. We hardly need to be so formal."
Fudge didn't seem to know how to handle her. Blinking rapidly, he tried to regain the control slipping rapidly from between his sausage-like fingers. "You would finish out your studies here, of course," he continued like she hadn't even spoken. "But you needn't worry about finding work after you graduate."
It was like he hadn't heard a single thing she'd said. She got the urge to bang her head against the desk until she went deaf, but she just managed to hold back from anything quite so drastic. "Kind as the offer is, Minister, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
Fudge pushed off the side of the desk and paced away a moment, before turning back, accusations like fire in his eyes.
"You have poisoned this young girl against the Ministry," he spat at Dumbledore, finally losing his cool. Dumbledore didn't so much as react, and it just about drove poor Fudge to insanity. "You've had her here, all along, keeping her for yourself. He who has access to a Seer has unbelievable power – you had no right to keep her existence from me."
Winona wasn't going to let him shout about her like she weren't even there – like she were some object up for sale. She stood to her feet, the sudden movement taking the Minister by surprise. "The Headmaster has not poisoned me against you, Minister," she told him tartly. "You've done a fine enough job of that all on your own."
Fudge took a physical step back, stunned by her venomous jab. Clearly he wasn't used to people talking back to him. But Winona wasn't afraid of him. She'd seen things coming in the not-so distant future that made Cornelius Fudge look like a bloody Cornish Pixie.
Glancing to Dumbledore, Winona found him to be smiling, but she wasn't sure why. Was he proud of her? Amused? Or was he just glad she was taking his side in all of this – even if not in so many words.
"But-" said Fudge helplessly.
"You heard Miss Andrews' decision, Cornelius," said Dumbledore mildly. "I do believe it is final."
Fudge's jaw worked a few times, making him look like a stunned fish, but in the end there were no words he could find. Instead he turned to Winona, beady eyes narrowed with hateful determination, and Winona wondered if he was a Slytherin, back when he was still in school.
"I hope you know, Miss Andrews, that the offer is always going to be there," he told her tartly. "And I think, one day, you just might find yourself reconsidering."
Winona stared back at him, feeling strangely as if something in her agreed. Not logically, of course – she'd rather eat a Boggart than work for the Ministry – but she felt something in her telling her that maybe he had a point. She knew how rocky the world was going to get soon. How tumultuous it was going to become. Who knew the moves she was going to have to make in the future?
Certainly not her. Not yet.
"I'll take my leave, Albus," said Fudge tersely.
Dumbledore swept a hand towards his fireplace. "I believe the Floo is still open," he said dismissively.
Fudge gave a final, irritated noise before grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and stepping into the flames. He was gone in moments, leaving Winona in a silence that rang like a bell. She turned to Dumbledore, finding him still sat in his chair, hands steepled like he hadn't a care in the world. She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to scream and scream until her voice stopped working and maybe the world made a little more sense and she finally knew who, exactly, she could trust.
"That was a very brave thing you did, Winona," said Dumbledore finally, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Not many witches your age would stand up to the Minister for Magic like that."
"Brave, or stupid?" she countered tiredly.
Dumbledore smiled inscrutably. "Perhaps a little of both."
She retook her seat, slouching until her head rested against the top of its backrest. "What he said, about you keeping me to yourself," she said carefully, staring up at the high ceiling instead of him. "Was that true?"
Dumbledore said nothing a moment, and the silence felt louder than ever. "For your own protection, yes," he finally said, but to her ears it sounded like the most insincere thing he'd ever said to her. She hated him, in that moment, just a little bit more.
But the truth of the matter was, if her options were either to put her trust with the Ministry of Magic or Albus Dumbledore – well, she certainly considered the latter the lesser of two evils.
"I'm going to go back down to the feast," she told him decisively, climbing to her feet with a sigh.
But the Headmaster gestured to the grandfather clock in the corner. "I believe dinner has just finished," he told her, and with a glance at the clock, she realised he was right. Everyone would be making their way back to their common rooms by now, bellies full and satisfied. Winona's felt hollow and sore. "I do believe you're a favourite of the house-elves', however," he added, mischief sparkling in his sapphire eyes. "Perhaps a visit to the kitchens is in order."
She wasn't sure how he knew about their visits to the kitchens, but she couldn't be bothered pressing the issue. "Goodnight, Professor," she told him as she turned away, ever-present bag bouncing against her hip as she made her way to the door.
"Sleep well, Winona," he called after her. She let the door shut without looking back.
There were plenty of Hufflepuffs milling around down near the kitchens, taking their time making their way back to their common room. Winona had to wait until the corridor was clear before tickling the pear to grant her entry into the kitchens.
She was a tad surprised – or maybe not even at all – to find the twins sat at the table closest to the fire, mugs of something steaming in their hands and a piece of parchment in front of them that they were discussing in low voices.
"Hey," she greeted them, the coldness of her encounter with Dumbledore and the Minister fading away at the sight of them. They looked up, faces open and happy, and the last of the ice in her chest thawed, leaving her feeling only warm.
She slid onto the bench beside Fred, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling herself tightly into his side. The warm press of him against her was good, reassuring in a way she hadn't known she'd needed.
Fred pressed a kiss into her hair, and her heart stuttered as she melted against him, breathing in his scent for a moment before reaching for his mug, sipping the hot chocolate within.
"I'm here too, y'know?" said George, sounding utterly unimpressed.
She opened her eyes – barely having realised she'd shut them – and looked over at her best friend sheepishly. "Sorry, Georgie," she said softly, still burrowed into Fred's side like she might be able to climb inside of him and hide there, loved and safe, for the rest of the night. "It's been a really long day."
Fred's fingers moved slowly up and down her side. It tickled slightly, but was more soothing than anything else. "What'd Dumbledore want?" he wondered.
She sighed again, taking another gulp of hot chocolate for strength. "It wasn't Dumbledore," she told him. "It was Fudge."
The twins froze, staring at her with wide eyes, and she used the moment to wave over a nearby house-elf.
"Do you have any leftover roast I can have?" she asked hopefully. "I missed dinner."
"Right away, Miss," squeaked the house-elf, scurrying away at top speeds. Winona smiled after him, then put Fred's mug down on the table and focused her attention back on the twins, who were still gaping at her with matching expressions of shock.
"Fudge," echoed Fred blandly. "You mean Cornelius Fudge?"
"Minister for Magic, Fudge?"
She nodded tiredly. "One and the same."
The house-elf reappeared, a plate piled high with food, and Winona began to eat. Around mouthfuls she relayed everything that had happened in Dumbledore's office, tacking on that if Fudge had any say, she'd probably be hauled out of Hogwarts here and now and stuck in a windowless room to search the future for him and him alone.
"Merlin," muttered George, looking vaguely haunted. Knowing he thought it was about as daunting and fucked up as she did wasn't exactly comforting, but it did make her feel a little less alone.
"So, what I'm getting out of this, is that you basically told the Minister for Magic to go fuck himself," said Fred, because he was incapable of sitting idly by while the mood around him plummeted. Winona arched an eyebrow and turned to look at him properly. "Gotta say, that's about the sexiest thing I've ever heard."
She loved that he could make her laugh, even now. She giggled into his shoulder, then tilted her chin up so she could look him in the eye. "Yeah?" she asked coyly. Fred smirked, devilishly mischievous in a way that made her heart race.
She bit her lip and his eyes flickered down. Winona grinned wider and pushed herself up so she could press a quick, playful kiss to his lips.
George cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm still here, guys," he said dryly.
Winona pulled back from Fred and flashed George another apologetic grin. "Sorry…again."
George rolled his eyes and flapped his hand, waving her apology away. "I get it," he told her impishly. "It's these Weasley good looks. You can't resist."
"Yeah," she agreed teasingly. "Shame the genes missed you."
George made a face at her, but she ignored it and dug back into her meal, enjoying the way Fred's fingertips continued to dance up and down her side, an affectionate afterthought.
"How'd today go, by the way?" Fred wondered once she was finished her leftovers and had moved on to some apple crumble for dessert. He meant her meeting with Sirius. It felt like it had all happened a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few hours.
Winona shrugged, suddenly very interested in her meal. "It was fine."
She felt the twins exchange a glance over her head. "Fine?" asked Fred cautiously, like he were dipping his toe in the waters, checking they were swimmable.
"We mostly just spoke about what happened at the World Cup, and he told us some stuff about Crouch and his son that happened back in the day, then we spoke a bit about the Death Eaters…" she trailed off, shrugging.
"So, you didn't talk to him alone, at all?" asked George.
"No, I did," she told him. "After we were done talking about Harry and the Tournament and everything, the others stepped outside and we got a few minutes alone."
"And?" Fred pressed eagerly.
"And it was…nice."
The twins exchanged another glance. "Nice," Fred echoed dubiously. Not knowing what else to say, she shrugged again. "Win, he's your dad."
She winced. "Ugh, don't use the 'd' word."
He rolled his eyes, and she flicked him in the temple in reprimand. He yelped and Winona grinned around her spoon. "Win," said George, leaning across the table, forcing her to meet his eyes. "How'd it go?" he asked, a touch more gentle than his twin.
Winona sighed and pushed away what remained of her plate, picking up the pumpkin juice the house-elf had supplied and taking a deep drink. Fred caught her free hand under the table, threading their fingers together and holding tight, a silent support.
"It went well," she confessed. "He said he wanted Harry and I to come live with him, one day, when he's cleared and he can get a proper house without worrying he'll get dragged back to Azkaban."
"Wow," said Fred quietly. "Is that what you want?"
She shrugged again. "I think so. Anywhere's gotta be better than where I'm living now, right?"
"Come on," Fred pressed. "Don't pretend you're not at least a little excited at the idea of living with him and Harry."
"I'm not pretending," she insisted. "It'll be good."
He nudged her pointedly. "It'll be great."
She knew he was right, but she was still trying to find the courage to admit it to herself. He seemed to sense it, smiling and effortlessly changing the subject to something Lee had said at dinner, and Winona was glad to sit and listen in peace, letting her mind drift and her taut muscles finally relax.
The day of her birthday, Winona woke up earlier than usual. Her sleep had been plagued by terrible nightmares she couldn't quite remember, and so when the first light of day shone through the window, she was awake, and didn't bother trying to get any more sleep.
The pile of presents on her bed called to her, and she was glad the girls were all still asleep, meaning she could open them without any prying eyes.
The customary Sugar Quills from Lee. A small pile of sweets from Ginny, and also Hermione and Ron. A pair of brand new, purple sneakers from all the girls in the dorm. Mrs Weasley had sent her a pair of warm, knitted gloves in a deep maroon, along with a small batch of her favourite biscuits. From Harry there was a rainbow assortment of self-sharpening pencils that she grinned at, and from George, some novelty socks he knew she'd get a kick out of.
There was one present left in the pile, and while Winona expected it to be from Fred, she was surprised to find it labelled with a note: love from Snuffles.
Heart stuttering in her chest, Winona tore off the dirty newspaper it was wrapped in to find a battered copy of the book Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. Confused, she opened the cover to find a note scrawled onto the inside with what looked like charcoal.
Ask when you see me next, it read in dark, looping letters, along with a sweet but poorly sketched heart. Winona shut the cover and cradled the book close to her chest. She didn't know its significance, but it was important – she could feel it. Like it were a missing piece to the puzzle of her life. She suddenly couldn't wait to see Sirius again, hopefully for longer than a few short minutes.
Putting the book down, she realised with a blink that there was nothing from Fred. She frowned, brow pinching as she stared at the end of her bed like if she concentrated hard enough she might will a present into existence. But nothing appeared, and she was left disappointed.
Moving from her bed into the shower, Winona put it out of her mind, indulging in an extra long stretch under the hot spray, washing her hair and scrubbing her body with some of Alicia's fancy soap, soaking up the heat. When she dressed for the day and padded barefoot back out into the dorm, she was surprised to find an owl at the window, pecking quietly at the glass.
Bewildered, she made her way over, opening the window and flinching at the frosty air that billowed in. The owl hopped onto the windowsill, a small note attached to its foot. Winona untied it, whispering an apology to the bird for not having a treat, before it hooted once and flew back out the window. Winona shut it again and made her way back towards her bed.
Her name was scrawled across the front in familiar chicken-scratch handwriting. She smiled, sitting down on the end of her bed and pulling the note open.
Meet me downstairs
xx
Winona smiled, tucking the small note into the bottom of her bedside drawer before pulling on her new sneakers and tiptoeing out of the dorm to keep from waking the other girls.
Fred was waiting in the common room, slouched against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets, his hair an adorable, shaggy mess. Winona smiled at the sight of him, and as if sensing her presence, he looked up from the floor to meet her eyes.
"Hey," she said, feeling strangely breathless as he grinned, wide and soaked in affection.
"Happy birthday," he told her, pushing off the wall and walking towards her where she was stood at the base of the stairs.
She hummed in thanks, wasting no time in wrapping her arms around his neck as he stepped into her space, bringing him into a tight embrace, head tucked into the space at the hollow of his throat. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" she wondered, words whispered against his skin.
His hands slid up and down the length of her spine, and she felt him smiling into her hair. "Maybe I'm a Seer," he told her playfully. Rolling her eyes, Winona pulled back far enough to shoot him a narrow-eyed look, and he laughed quietly. "Or maybe I just know you really, really well."
Pushing herself up onto her toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, soft as petals under her own, before pulling away and smiling. One of his hands came up to her hair, running down the length of the white-blonde strands before bringing his fingertips to her face, tracing over the dark circles under her stormy eyes.
"Nightmares again?" he asked softly. Winona only nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Were they bad?"
She shrugged. "I don't remember."
"Maybe that's for the best."
She shook her head. "Not if they're meant to be warnings."
"If they were meant to be warnings, you'd remember."
Winona sighed, unconvinced. "Maybe."
He brought his hand back to her waist, sliding it around to the back of her spine, fingertips dancing like he were playing an instrument. He grinned at her, and the morose air shifted, replaced by something that made it easier to breathe.
"Wanna unwrap your present?" he asked eagerly, more excited than she was.
"Hmm," she purred, pressing herself closer and sliding her hands up the length of his chest. "Is my present you?" she asked in a sultry voice, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.
The tips of Fred's ears went bright red and he tipped his head back – probably to avoid meeting her eyes. "You're incorrigible," he groaned.
Winona hummed in agreement, trailing her fingers along the column of his throat. "But you love it," she said, speaking the words against his Adam's apple, her breath tickling his skin.
Fred took a deep breath, head still dropped backwards. "Merlin help me," he murmured, and she got the feeling he was genuinely begging Merlin for mercy. It made her smile against his throat, and a bubble of laughter escaped her chest. "What's got you in such a good mood?" Fred wondered once she finally took pity and shifted backwards, smirking up into his eyes.
Winona shrugged. "I got to see Snuffles for the first time in forever; I practically told the Minister for Magic to go fuck himself, so I'm still sort of riding out that high; and besides, it's my birthday. Who can be sad on their birthday?"
Fred was grinning widely. "What's it like to be seventeen?"
"Ask me in the Summer, when I can do all my worst chores with magic."
He shook his head fondly. "Come on," he said, releasing her waist and settling for taking her hand, threading their fingers together and tugging her impatiently towards the portrait hole. "You have a present to open."
Winona let him lead her through the halls, their path lit by the light of the not-yet-risen sun through the castle's large windows. It was quiet and peaceful, and in that moment it was easy to imagine they were the only two people alive in the world. That they'd somehow slipped into an alternate universe of their own creation, safe and happy, together.
"Where are you taking me?" Winona wondered about five minutes into their journey, it having only just occurred to her to ask. Being with Fred was so easy, she realised he could lead her to her death and she'd go with a smile on her face, so long as it meant she got to hold his hand on the way there.
It probably should have terrified her how intense that kind of revelation was, but instead she just held his hand tighter, pressing her face into his shoulder simply because she could, soaking up his scent and his warmth.
When he turned left at the Charms classroom, that was when Winona knew where they were going. She followed him up the long flight of stairs leading up to the Astronomy Tower, pressing her lips together to keep herself from grinning like a moron.
They reached the top to find a blanket laid out, along with a picnic basket and a small collection of fluffy blankets. She stopped on the landing, gripping Fred's hand tight, staring at the scene before her with wide eyes.
It took a moment to find her voice, and when she finally managed to tear her eyes from the setting before her, Winona found Fred's ears to be bright red but his eyes clear and confident. "I thought we could watch the sunrise," he explained, dragging his thumb over the back of her hand.
She smothered another ridiculous grin by chewing on her lip. "Fred Weasley," she said, voice soft so as to not shatter the atmosphere he'd created. "Who knew you could be such a romantic?"
Fred grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I have hidden depths," he told her simply as he dragged her further across the floor, towards the edge where the blanket was set up and they would be able to watch the sunrise.
"Do you, now?" she asked, shaking her head in exasperation as he made an exaggerated gesture for her to take a seat. She folded herself up in the middle of the blanket and shut her eyes to savour the moment when Fred wrapped one of the spare blankets around her shoulders. "And what might they be?"
Fred took a seat beside her, shuffling so their sides were pressed together, and she held the blanket open so he could slip inside. "Well, for starters, I always let Ginny have the last piece of pork at Christmas dinner – because it's her favourite," he said as she melted against him, ignoring the sunrise in favour of staring up into his face.
"Is that so?"
Fred nodded like he were confessing something grave. "And I tear up every time I hear the song Magic Works by the Weird Sisters."
Something about that particular confession felt important, and she quickly searched her memory, trying to recall why that was significant. It came to her suddenly, and she sat up a little straighter. "That's the song we danced to at the Yule Ball," she realised, feeling strangely breathless.
Fred gave a secret grin that absolutely did not make her stomach twist itself into knots. She rolled her lips into her mouth and looked away, taking a moment to recover.
"I thought you looked a little misty-eyed that night," she told him playfully, falling back on humour because it was easy; comfortable.
Fred grinned at her brightly. "I can't help it," he said. "It gets me every time."
Winona tilted her head to the side, catching his hand again and dancing her fingertips over his calloused skin. "I suppose that's our song, now, isn't it?" she mused. "How weird is that? That we have a song."
"Nah," he disagreed. "S'not that weird."
He sounded so confident that Winona couldn't find reason to argue. Maybe it wasn't so weird; maybe they'd been working towards this moment from the very beginning. Maybe this was where they'd always been heading.
"Hungry?" Fred asked.
She wasn't really, but when he pulled out a plate of crepes covered in fruit and cherry sauce, Winona's mouth began to water and she knew she'd be eating the lot. "I bloody love the house-elves," she gushed as she cut off a piece and shoved it into her mouth.
Fred's nose crinkled. "Yeah, I had nothing to do with it," he drawled sarcastically.
Once she'd swallowed her mouthful, Winona gave an apologetic smile. "You know what I mean," she said, cutting off another piece and holding it out for him in offer. Instead of taking it from her, he leaned forwards and ate the food straight from the fork. Winona's stomach gave a somersault, and her bit her lip again, rolling her eyes when Fred smirked.
"We came all the way up here to watch the sunrise and you're too busy staring at me to look at the sky," he griped playfully. Winona blinked, realising he was right. Still, she gave him a shove before taking another bite of her breakfast and turning her attention to the sunrise as together they worked on the food before them.
The sky was a kaleidoscope of gentle peaches and ethereal lilacs, and on instinct Winona reached for her bag, stunned to realise she hadn't brought it with her. She'd forgotten about it entirely. The one thing she never went anywhere without, and she'd forgotten it. It certainly said something about this thing she had going with Fred that it could bring her to that.
"Win?"
She looked up at Fred, who seemed to read the panic in her eyes. His brow furrowed with concern. "I'm fine," she promised him quickly, not wanting him to worry. "I just… I forgot my bag."
Now his brow shot up, surprised as she was to discover her bag hadn't made the journey with her. "Do you feel like you're going to have a vision?" he asked, still looking concerned.
"No," she said softly. "I just never go anywhere without it."
"Well, worst comes to worst, you can always draw the prediction into the sauce left on this plate," he told her impishly, gesturing to the empty plate sat on the blanket in front of them. Winona laughed quietly. How was it he could always make her worst anxieties disappear with a single, well-timed joke? It was a magic in and of itself.
"It's actually…it's kind of a relief not to have it with me," she admitted, trying her hand at being vulnerable for once. If this was going to work, she had to be honest, even about this. "It's always there with me, a weight on my shoulders. With it gone, even just for an hour…" she trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. They might not have had the twin-telepathy he shared with George, but they had their own kind of understanding.
"Everyone needs a break from everything eventually," he told her quietly. "You're gonna be okay."
Winona smiled, trying to find the words to explain how grateful she was that he was just there with her, present in a way other people somehow weren't. But the words wouldn't come, so instead Winona climbed into his lap. She took his hands and used them to loop his arms around her waist, then settled back against him. Wrapped up in one another and the fluffy blankets the elves had so thoughtfully provided, they watched the oncoming day with a peace that settled down into their very bones.
And Winona did everything she could to keep herself from remembering that the peace wasn't going to last. Because she knew, better than anybody else in this world, the horrors that awaited them in the future.
The rest of her birthday passed in a rather unexceptional manner. She convinced the twins not to throw her a party – what with the whole Fred-and-her thing, her relationship with the girls wasn't as easy as it once was, and since Skeeter's article about her being a Seer broke out, the rest of the school was acting rather weird about her too. The last thing Winona wanted was a party filled with awkward people who didn't actually want to be there.
A few weeks passed and her relationship with Fred remained a secret. She got the sense he was getting a little antsy – wanting to come clean to the rest of their friends and the school – but he didn't push her on the matter, and she adored him all the more for it.
It was nearing the middle of April – the twins' birthday having long since come and gone – when Winona got a note at breakfast one Friday morning.
Winona,
I'd like to see you. Just you. Meet me at the same place as before, lunchtime on Saturday.
Snuffles
x
Winona stared at the slip of paper in surprise. It had come with a nondescript school owl, and the ink was smudged, like it'd been written in a hurry.
"Who's that from?" Lee asked around a mouthful of bacon.
"Your mum," Winona replied without missing a beat.
Lee rolled his eyes and turned pointedly to a nearby conversation about the third and final task of the tournament. Fred leaned towards her, and she slipped him the note. He read it discretely, brow furrowed, then handed it to George who scanned it the same.
"Are you gonna go?" Fred wondered once his brother had passed it back.
"I guess so," she murmured, staring down at the note, tracing her eyes over the rushed handwriting.
"It isn't a Hogsmeade weekend," George pointed out.
"I'll borrow the Map from Harry, sneak out there that way."
The twins exchanged a glance. "Is it safe?" Fred asked cautiously.
The look she sent them was exasperated. "It's Hogsmeade," she reminded them dryly. "The biggest threats are the fangirls hiding out in the village, hoping to catch a glimpse of Krum."
But the twins didn't look convinced. "With Skeeter's article out there… Someone might recognise you," said George delicately. "Isn't Dumbledore always warning you about being careful, because of how valuable you'd be the wrong sort of person?"
"If I always did what Dumbledore said, you two wouldn't even know I was a Seer in the first place," she reminded him. "I'll be fine. I'll be with Snuffles."
The twins exchanged a look meaningful to the two of them. "We'll come with you," Fred suddenly declared.
"Fred-" she tried to argue.
"You can see Snuffles alone," he told her. "But we'll go down the tunnel with you, walk you to the meeting place. Just to be safe."
Winona wasn't convinced. "And what do you plan to do with yourselves while I'm busy?"
"We'll hang out in the Three Broomsticks, get a butterbeer or two," George shrugged. "S'not like Rosmerta will dob us in."
"Besides," added Fred, "we're seventeen now. As far as the law's concerned, we're adults. We can do what we like."
She wanted to argue, but she knew from experience how pointless it would be. The twins were the most stubborn people she knew. If they said they were coming, then they were coming. Nobody could talk them out of something they'd set their minds to.
So, the next day, Winona and the twins inconspicuously slipped out of lunch in the Great Hall and made their way to the secret passage beneath the one-eyed witch statue. George spoke the password to allow them entry, and Winona slipped in first.
She had to wait for awhile on the other side, as the twins were almost too large to fit through the tiny gap. Their shoulders were broad and strong from their years on the Quidditch team, and they were both ridiculously tall. It took several minutes for them to manoeuvre themselves into the passage.
"Took you long enough," she complained once they were in the passage with her. "At this rate, I'm going to be late."
They slipped from Honeydukes with the kind of stealth that had developed over years of sneaking around places they shouldn't be. Like Fred had said, they were all seventeen now, and they weren't wearing their uniform, so it was easy to walk through the town without anyone pulling them up for being where they shouldn't.
With none of their peers around to see, Winona was able to hold Fred's hand without worrying about gossip spreading like the plague. They walked through the chilly spring air, the three of them talking easily, keeping things light before Winona's one-on-one discussion with her father.
At the stile at the end of the lane waited a shaggy black dog. Sirius was laid on the ground, his triangular head resting on his muddy paws. He raised his head as they approached, then stood up in excitement when he saw who it was.
Winona waved to him, a tiny bit awkward, then turned to the twins while they were still several metres away. "This is where I leave you," she told them sternly. "I'll meet you back at the Three Broomsticks in a couple of hours – maybe less, depending on how things go."
George was nodding in agreement, but Fred's eyes were on the Animagus loitering at the fence behind them. "It's so weird to think that's your dad," he whispered.
Winona flinched. "Don't say the 'd' word, Fred. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"But he is, Win," said George delicately. "You're gonna have to face it eventually."
She didn't bother replying to that, just resting a hand on her bag and glancing at the dog waiting at the stile. "I'll see you guys soon," she told them, but before she could properly turn away Fred caught her hand and tugged her back towards him.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he pressed, stubborn to a fault. George politely turned away to give them the illusion of privacy.
The ice in Winona's heart thawed. "Fred, seriously, I'm fine," she promised him. "Go harass Rosmerta. I'll be back before you know it."
He eyed her another long moment before finally nodding in agreement. He ducked in, about to place a kiss on her lips until he remembered her father was literally staring directly at them, and changed his mind, pecking her on the cheek instead. Winona squeezed his hand twice, shooting him a smile and turning away, heading for the stile, climbing over it and following Sirius back up the winding, treacherous path up towards his little cave.
She was glad for the time to get her thoughts in order and calm her nerves as they walked, Sirius occasionally pausing to scan the horizon with his canine eyes. Winona didn't have a bad feeling, and she could tell he was just being paranoid. But that was good. So far, paranoid had kept him alive.
They reached the cave and he waited for her to slip inside first. It was just as cold and damp as it had been before, but this time it held a little bit more character.
Buckbeak was still in the corner, tied up and appearing to be enjoying an afternoon doze. There was a small pile of packaged food sitting against the far wall, and she recognised most of it from the Hogwarts' kitchens. Realising Harry had been sending him food, Winona felt bad for not thinking to do the same. She turned away before the guilt could overwhelm her.
There was a small pit in the centre of the room. Clearly there'd been a fire there at some point, but now it was just a smudge of ash. Winona pulled free her wand and without giving it much thought flicked it at the pit. Immediately a small fire began to crackle away, lighting up the dank cave with light and warmth.
"Thank you," came Sirius' voice, and it was a miracle Winona didn't flinch at the shock of it. She turned to find him standing in human form, shuffling towards the fire she'd conjured, ratty prison robes draped over his thin frame. "You've no idea how difficult it is to make a fire without magic."
Winona fingered the tip of her wand, thoughtful. "It just occurred to me," she said quietly, "that was my first use of magic outside of school. Now that I'm of age, and all."
Sirius' face went from stricken to wistful, and she wished she knew Legilimency, if only so she could understand what was going on inside his head. "Well," he said, unmistakeably bitter, "at least I was there for one of your firsts."
Pain twisted in Winona, the words like a knife. She turned away so he wouldn't see the way her expression crumpled, crouching down to the fire, holding her hand out to the heat. Sirius seemed to realise he'd misstepped.
"Sorry," he apologised awkwardly.
"It's fine."
Silence reigned and Winona wondered whether this had been such a good idea after all. Why did he ask her here? To drive the knife that was her childhood abandonment in deeper? To remind her of what she'd never had? She doubted he was so cruel – but that was just it, she didn't really know him.
Where did somebody even begin when it came to getting to know the father you'd thought was dead for fifteen years of your life? It was an unprecedented situation.
Thankfully she didn't have to produce some topic to talk about; apparently Sirius already had something in mind. Winona watched as he went to the small pile of old Daily Prophet copies in the corner, rifling through them a moment before holding up a very familiar edition.
She realised why he'd asked her here, now. He wanted to talk about Skeeter's article. He wanted to talk about the fact she was a Seer.
Winona looked away, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down into the crackling flames of her magical fire. She heard the paper rustle as Sirius flicked it open to the correct page, a picture of herself scowling at the camera pasted across the front.
"I know we mentioned it back when we spoke over the Floor, but I have to ask… Why didn't you say anything?" he finally asked, sounding unfairly hurt.
Winona felt her own eyes flash. "When was I supposed to bring it up? In the twelve years I thought you were dead, or at some point in the collective eight minutes I've had alone with you since I found out you weren't?"
She was glad to see Sirius at least looked a little bit chastised. "You could have written," he said anyway.
"It's not really the kind of thing you can just put in a letter," she said, idly kicking a loose pebble into the fire. "Besides, it isn't that important."
Sirius blanched across from her. "It isn't that important?" he parroted incredulously. "Winona, you're a Seer. A real, honest-to-Merlin Seer. Do you have any idea what kind of danger that puts you in? Especially in times like these."
"Yeah," she muttered. "I think I've been warned about the dangers a hundred times or so by Dumbledore."
Sirius was staring at her, and she again cursed that she wasn't any good at Legilimency. "If the wrong people got to you, Winona…" he began.
"What wrong people?"
Sirius took a deep breath. "It's no secret the world is in something of a state at the moment…" he began again, keeping his own voice carefully measured. "There are forces you can't even begin to understand at work here. I've heard things – whisperings of certain…people…trying to return."
"You mean Death Eaters," she said flatly. "Yeah. I'm familiar."
Sirius took several large steps towards her, crossing the space between them. It took a very conscious effort for her not to step back out of his space. "What have you Seen?" he asked, eyes wide and imploring.
Now Winona did move away, pacing across the other end of his small hideaway. She wanted to lie and say she hadn't seen anything, but what was the point in that? She needed to trust somebody eventually, and her whole world couldn't revolve around the twins and Harry. Besides, as much as she really hated saying it, this was her dad.
"Nothing specific," she told him, balling her hands into fists, nails biting into the skin of her palm. "Flashes of pain, or grief. Mostly nightmares I can't quite remember." Glancing up, she found Sirius was frowning. "I don't get clear visions," she explained. "I get flashes and go into a sort of…trance. When I come out of it, I have a sketch waiting for me – a prediction of the future. And usually a pretty accurate one, too."
Sirius was quiet, watching the flames dance, their glow lighting up his gaunt face. "But you've seen bad things coming?" he asked, staring resolutely into the fire.
Winona shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice lacking strength. She cleared her throat and tried again. "The future isn't looking too bright; let's just say that."
Sirius finally looked away from the flames to stare at her. She stared right back, wondering what he was seeing. Did he look at her and see her mother? Did he see his past, and everything he'd lost that night with Pettigrew on a busy London street?
"It must be awful," he said suddenly, taking her by surprise. She cocked her head, confused. "I know bad things are coming. I can feel them in the air, see them in the dark deals happening down in the town. But I can't See them, not up close like you. And I'm very sorry you have to."
Winona was in a state of almost shock. She stared at him, wordless, and he smiled back patiently.
"I meant what I said, Winona," he continued when it became clear she wasn't going to speak. "The world is a dangerous place right now – for you even more so." He hung his head then, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "You and Harry – the most important people in my life – and you're the two most wanted, sought-after wizards in the world."
He shook his head like the world had disappointed him once again. "Yeah, life tends to work that way," she replied thickly. "It's kind of a bastard like that."
Sirius kept his head hung, something like defeat in the set of his body, and Winona got the annoying urge to try to melt it away.
"Can I ask you something?" she wondered quietly.
He lifted his head, looking a little bit shaken but otherwise fine. "Anything," he told her, and she felt the words like a promise bigger than any she'd heard before.
Swallowing that down, she pressed onwards. "You mention my…" she trailed off, struggling with the word, "Jessica," she settled for saying instead. "You said she was sensitive to the future?"
She half expected Sirius to wince in pain or maybe tear up at the mention of her late mother, but instead he surprised her with a smile, fond and warm, like her memory brought him nothing but joy. She wished she could relate.
"She had a knack for knowing what was in a present before unwrapping it, and she always won at poker – every single time – but she didn't get visions, or prophecies of any kind."
Winona was taken aback by her own disappointment, and Sirius seemed to understand with only a look.
"She was definitely sensitive to her inner eye," he told her gently. "But privately, I wonder if it was just you inside of her all along, waiting to come out."
Clearing her throat, Winona stared stubbornly down at the fire. She expected Sirius to let them fall back into uncomfortable silence, but he surprised her again by speaking up.
"Jessica was the year ahead of James in school, so she was already in second year when I started with James in first-" he began quietly, in the tone of somebody settling in to tell a long story.
"Stop," said Winona, and Sirius looked up, warring surprise and hurt on his face, making Winona feel like a jerk for cutting him off. Throat tight, she tried to look apologetic, but she wasn't sure she was doing such a good job.
"I thought you wanted to hear about her?" he asked softly.
She cleared her throat again. "I did," she said quietly. "I do. But I just don't know if I'm…ready, yet."
Sirius looked confused, and Winona was horrified to find her eyes beginning to burn with the sting of oncoming tears. She'd thought she was past this trauma, thought she was over her past. But sitting with her father in the firelight, talking about her mother – it was all so starkly real, and she didn't know how to handle it. Turning away from him, she pressed a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath in an effort to keep the tears at bay.
"Winnie…" Sirius said helplessly from behind her, but the sound of her nickname on his lips only made the burning in her eyes stronger.
"I spent my life trying to get over her death," she began, the words wavering with the dip and flow of her emotion, pouring out of her, unbidden. "Trying to convince myself I didn't care, because that was easier than the alternative. But the truth is, I care so much I think I'm going to die from the pain of it." Slowly she turned back to look at him, horrified to find his grey eyes looked as glassy as hers. "I want to hear all about her, one day. I wanna know what her favourite colour was, and how she liked to have her tea, and whether she was any good at art – but right now, I'm just not ready to know. I need to pretend I don't care; just for a little while longer."
Sirius was silent for a long few moments, but then, to her relief, understanding seemed to melt over him like wax from a candle, softening the sharp jut of his shoulders and chin.
"I understand," he told her softly, attempting a smile. "Whenever you're ready – all you have to do is ask."
Winona tugged restlessly at the hem of her sweater. "Thanks."
Sirius smiled, a little bit awkward again, now that they'd gotten emotional in front of one another. "Can I ask something, now?" he asked carefully.
It took her longer than he had to muster up the answer of, "Anything."
Sirius smiled, and she could see again how he would have been handsome, once upon a time. Before years in dementor-filled hell eroded it all away. "Can I see some of your art?" he asked gently, sad acceptance in his eyes, like he fully expected her to say no. "Harry mentioned you were rather good and I'd – I'd love to see some."
There was something vulnerable about the way he asked, and that something melted her heart like fire against ice. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Winona nodded her head. "Yeah," she agreed. "Okay."
Sirius' dirty face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he watched as she dug her sketchbook out from the bag that hardly ever left her person. She walked away from him, taking a seat against the wall, only a few feet from the warmth of the flickering fire. Sirius took the hint and cautiously approached – like she were an easily spooked animal – finally taking a seat on her left.
She flicked through her book a moment, trying to decide what to show him, before finally just saying a mental 'screw it' and handing over the whole thing.
Sirius took it from her like it were a priceless artefact, cradling it gently in his hands like he half expected it to crumble to dust under his touch. He glanced unsurely at Winona, who nodded once in encouragement.
Slowly, carefully, he began to flip through the pages. He would stare at each drawing for a long minute in silence, saying nothing, then quietly move onto the next, and the next. At least fifteen minutes they sat there, both silent, as he flipped through her sketchbook, soaking up her creations.
Finally Winona could take no more – she felt like she'd given him a book of her soul to read, and it had left her feeling open, like an exposed wound – and so she gently took the book back. "I think that's enough for one day," she said softly, shutting the sketchbook and tucking it back into her bag.
"You're amazing," Sirius said, so quiet she almost missed it, folding his dirty hands in his lap and staring unseeingly at the fire crackling in front of them.
Winona felt her face flush at the matter-of-fact compliment. "I wasn't so good when I was younger," she said. "It took a lot of practise."
"That's not true," Sirius argued, and she looked back up in surprise. "Even when you were little you were good. I remember Lily raving over how you would always colour within the lines before you'd even hit three."
She dropped her head back until it thumped against the rock wall behind her, but she didn't care. "Sometimes I forget," she whispered, "that I had three whole years with you all before…before everything happened."
Sirius was still staring at the flames, seeing into the past like she so often saw into the future. "Do you remember any of it?" he asked, and the hope in his voice told her he really wanted her to. He wanted to share those memories with her, maybe just so they could share something.
"Flashes. I remember laughter, and the smell of fresh crayons. I remember being tickled mercilessly and playing with a shaggy black dog," she confessed with a small smile. Sirius surprised her again by laughing, and the sound was familiar in a distant, instinctual way. Like she'd been born listening to that sound, and now it was written into her very DNA. "Maybe, when I'm ready, you can tell me more about that, too," she offered like an olive branch. A promise for the future she so often saw.
Sirius grinned, a tiny bit wolfish but mostly just endearing, and eagerly nodded his head. "I'd love to."
They fell back into quiet, only this time it wasn't awkward, but instead rather easy. Like the walls between them were beginning to break down, crumbling into rubble, leaving them free to see one another as they were. Winona was content, shutting her eyes and soaking up the heat of the fire she'd created.
Then Sirius had to go and ruin it all.
"What was your childhood like?" he wondered innocently. "Was it happy?"
Winona opened her eyes to find he was smiling as he asked it, and she realised with a heavy heart that he was expecting the answer to be yes. But Winona wasn't in the business of lying to family.
"No," she told him, staring at the fire so she didn't have to watch his easy happiness melt into dismay. "No, it wasn't very happy."
She could tell Sirius was frowning. "Your foster parents, they weren't…?" he trailed off, not seeming to now how to word the question.
Winona snorted. "Which foster parents?" she asked bitterly. "First few years there, I jumped around so often I couldn't even keep track. Good thing was, people don't like to beat toddlers. Bad thing was, once you grow older, all bets are off."
Sirius' silence rang like a bell. "They hurt you?" he asked, choked up and hoarse, like somebody had him by the throat.
"Yeah," she nodded, watching the blues and oranges in the flames dance around one another. It was easier than looking into his eyes. "They did."
Sirius didn't seem to know what to say in response to that. He wasn't angry, which surprised her some. Instead he just seemed…defeated.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, wracked with grief. "I'm just, I'm so sorry."
Winona nodded, but otherwise didn't reply.
"If I could go back-"
"You can't," she cut him off before he could finish. "You can't, so there's no point wishing you could. What's done is done, Sirius."
Sirius flinched, and she realised she was being rather harsh. But she didn't need flowery words and desperate, impossible wishes.
"I don't need you to go back in time and fix things," she tried again, attempting to right her wrong. She softened her voice, taking the bite out of the words. "What I need is for you to be here, now. I need you to…I need you to stay, this time," she said, horrified to find her eyes stinging once more. "I need you to promise you're not going to leave," she begged, staring glassily into the flames. "Not again. Please."
Sirius' arm settled tentatively over her shoulders, and to her surprise her instinct wasn't to shift away from him. She let him comfort her, shuffling ever so slightly closer to him and resting her temple against his shoulder. His hand rubbed hesitantly up and down her arm, and she sniffled rather pathetically.
"I'm not going anywhere, Winnie," he told her. The promise was probably an empty one – not even she had any say in the future. Who were they to promise anything, knowing the storm on the horizon? But it was what she needed to hear, and they both knew it. "I'm never going to leave you again."
Winnie nodded her head against his shoulder, reaching up to wipe at her leaking eyes with the sleeve of her knitted jumper.
"You okay, pup?" he whispered after another few moments of quiet.
A memory flashed in her head, so strong she nearly gasped. "You called me that," she whispered. "You and my mother. You called me pup when I was a baby."
She felt Sirius press his face into her hair. "James started the whole thing. Called you our puppy. I guess it stuck," he laughed, chest vibrating with the force of it.
Sometimes it was easy for Winona to forget she had a whole past of people, people who had thrown her birthday parties and given her Christmas presents and probably played peekaboo with her as a baby. Jessica, Sirius, Remus, James and Lily – they'd been her family. And only just now, in this exact moment, huddled in a cave with her long-lost father, did she feel the stark loss of that.
"I should get back," she said after awhile of quiet, her leaning against him for support, him with his cheek resting on top of her head, holding her close. She got the feeling it was something he'd dreamt of doing again for years in Azkaban. She wondered what it felt like, for that dream to become a reality. Was it every bit like he'd imagined? "If what you say is true, then I shouldn't be out after dark."
"Right," he replied, watching as she pulled away. Climbing to her feet, Winona wiped her face once more, making sure to get rid of any tears that had lingered. He stood up after her, a small smile on his face – tentative, like he wasn't sure it was allowed. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked softly.
And when Winona smiled, it wasn't forced. "Yeah," she told him, feeling suddenly like it might actually be true. "I'm going to be fine."
"Off to meet up with that boyfriend of yours, no doubt," Sirius murmured, a playful spark in his eyes.
Winona's lips twitched. "Maybe." Sirius shook his head, grinning wolfishly. "He'll take good care of me – make sure I make it back up to the castle in one piece," she assured him.
"He sure as hell better."
Winona laughed, rolling her lips into her mouth, feeling shy. "I'll see you again soon, right?" she asked hopefully.
Sirius hesitated. "I don't want you sneaking out here all the time to see me – there's too much risk that you'll be seen by the wrong people, and-"
"I know. I get it," she said quietly.
He smiled, a little bit wistful. "Come summer, things will change," he promised her.
"How so?"
"I have a plan," he declared.
"A plan?" she echoed dubiously.
"Well, the beginnings of one, at least," he amended. Winona cocked her head curiously, but his only answer was a roguish grin. "You'll see."
She hummed, reaching up to tap at her temple. "Yeah, maybe I will."
Sirius shook his head with a grin. "That'll take some getting used to."
Winona smiled back. "Thanks for today, Sirius," she said quietly. He frowned again at her use of his name, but he was tactful enough not to bring attention to it.
"Owl me any time, Winnie," he swore. "I mean it. If you needed me, Dumbledore himself couldn't stop me from getting to you."
Winona smiled. "That's somehow both badass and comforting."
She glanced over her shoulder at the crack in the mountain that led back out into the open. The sun was beginning to set, so she knew she had to go, even if all she really wanted to do was stay. "I'll see you again soon," Sirius said, as if reading her thoughts. "I promised I wasn't going anywhere, remember?"
She nodded in agreement. He took a tentative step towards her and slowly raised his hands. She stayed absolutely still as he took her head in his dirty hands and drew her closer, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. His scraggy beard tickled her skin, and the feeling made her smile.
Stepping back, he sent her a grin. "I'll see you soon," he promised once more, comforting parting words before he abruptly changed into his Animagus form, a mangey black dog taking his place.
Winona led the way back down the mountain and through the trees leading back to Hogsmeade village. Sirius stayed behind her, keeping her in his sight at all times, scanning the trees to be sure no threats were lurking. Finally they reached the fence and its little stile, and Winona turned to Sirius for a final goodbye.
His tongue lolled from his mouth as he panted up at her. She scratched behind his ear, smiling gently. "Thanks again," she whispered, scratching him once more before stepping back and making her way over the stile.
Sirius watched her go, and she waved subtly before finally turning the corner and stepping onto the main street of Hogsmeade. It was mostly empty, but candlelight flickered in the windows of the shops and homes lining the street. Winona quickly made her way to the Three Broomsticks, relieved but not surprised to find the twins sat at the table closest to the door, six empty glasses of butterbeer on the table between them.
Fred shot to his feet when he spotted her. "There you are!" he cried, catching the attention of a nearby trio of goblins. Winona ignored their beady-eyed stares and grabbed her boyfriend's hand. "We thought maybe you'd gotten lost."
"Fred was about ready to send out a search party," George laughed, pulling his jacket back on over his jumper as they left the warmth of the inn. Stepping back out onto the street, the wind was frigid and sharp, like needles against their skin, but Winona didn't mind it. It reminded her she was alive.
"Can you blame me?" Fred retorted. "Up until late last year, he was a raving lunatic. Excuse me for being concerned."
Winona gripped his hand tighter, tugging him in the direction of Honeydukes. "I'm here, and I'm fine," she told them. "We just got caught up."
"And?" George asked impatiently as Fred flicked his wand at the back door to the sweets shop. The door came unlocked and he led the way inside.
"And it was good," she shrugged.
"Good?" Fred echoed dubiously.
"Great," she amended in a whisper as they stealthily made their way back down into the cellar and through the trap door that led to the passageway into the castle.
"And you're okay?" Fred asked once they were safely sealed inside, path lit by wand light as they made their way towards the school.
Winona considered the question a moment before finally she smiled, finding the expression came easy. "Yeah," she confirmed, feeling it in her bones. "I'm okay."
A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the longer-than-usual wait for this one. Your responses to this story have been so amazing, and I'm thrilled you're all enjoying it still. I hope you enjoyed this one, but I have a feeling you're going to enjoy the next one even more – because let's just say it definitely earns its 'M' rating.
Spotlight review this time goes to: lexicaruso – thanks so much for your review. It made me smile like crazy, and was honestly a spot of sunshine in an otherwise crappy week. I hope you liked this one, and I hope you stick around, I'd love to hear what you think of some of the things happening in the near-future!