Fred and Winona sat in silence for a few tense moments, neither quite sure how to react. "I should go," Winona finally said, a frown pinching at her brow.
"No," said Fred, looking alarmed. "Stay."
She smiled sadly. "I really ought to go talk to Ange," she told him, apologetic but firm. She climbed out from under his quilt and began to redress, pulling on her undergarments, then shimmying into her jeans and turning her flannel the right way out before buttoning that up too.
Too soon she was dressed, and she turned to see Fred still naked in bed, staring at her inscrutably. She didn't want to leave so abruptly, but her friendship with Angelina might literally hang in the balance, and as much as she adored Fred, she wasn't going to lose Angelina because of their shitty communication skills.
She walked back towards him, climbing onto the bed and leaning towards him on her knees. "I don't regret you," she told him, the most heartfelt thing she could think to say in that moment. "I could never regret you."
Fred grinned back at her, the despondency disappearing from his eyes like the sun peeking out from behind some clouds. "Yeah?"
Her only answer was to smile back, reaching up to cup his face in her hand and drawing him into a deep, lazy, toe-curling kiss. After a long minute of selfish indulgence, she pulled back and brushed her thumb over his cheek.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him with a smile.
Fred stopped her before she could leave, holding her wrist and keeping her on the bed with him. She hoped he wouldn't ask her to stay again – she wasn't sure she could deny him twice. "Does this mean the secret's finally out?" he asked her, hopeful.
And after what they'd just shared, Winona couldn't be anything except honest. "I don't wanna lie about it anymore," she told him honestly. "We're done keeping this to ourselves."
Fred made a sound of relief, sinking back into his pillows. "Thank Merlin for that," he breathed, and she could tell he meant it.
Winona chuckled, swooping in to press her lips to his chest, exposed by the falling blanket. She kissed her way up the column of his throat until she places a kiss once more to his addictive lips, before very reluctantly pulling away.
"Wish me luck with Ange," she said in farewell as she left. Fred groaned in her wake, and she grinned back at him impishly. It was harder than she'd thought it would be to leave Fred, but she forced herself out the door towards the girls' dorm – ignoring the way her legs still felt just a little bit like jelly.
Winona hesitated outside the door to her dorm, hand frozen in the air where it was raised to knock. She recognised the feeling in her chest as fear; fear Angelina would be angry. Fear that she wouldn't be forgiven. Fear she was just an all-round bad person.
But she couldn't stand outside the door stressing herself into a tizzy forever, so with a deep breath of air into her lungs – body still buzzing from her time with Fred – Winona knocked twice on the door before cracking it open an inch and poking her head tentatively through the gap.
Angelina was sitting on her bed, staring unseeingly at a book in her lap. She looked up when Winona edged into the room, and her dazed stare turned into an inscrutably blank look.
"Hey," said Winona lamely. Angelina deserved more than this, but she didn't know where to begin. An apology wouldn't have been out of step, but she felt like she needed to build up to it.
Winona was expecting a glare, or maybe – worst of all – some tears. Instead Angelina did neither, surprising Winona with a sad smile. "I'm glad you two finally got your heads out of your arses long enough to realise what you had," she told Winona bluntly, who blinked at her in shock.
She didn't seem angry, but Winona knew Angelina was one of those people who could bottle their rage deep down inside, locked away in a drawer only to be brought out when absolutely necessary. She'd rather face that rage now than deal with it sometime unexpectedly down the line.
"…You're not going to shout at me?" she finally asked, bracing for a nasty hex. Angelina was very handy with her hexes, and Winona wasn't about to fight back. She wasn't sure she deserved a face full of boils or anything quite so painful, but perhaps some extra-long toenails or green hair wouldn't be completely out of order.
But instead, Angelina just rolled her eyes. "Winnie, I'm not going to shout at you," she sounded exasperated. "I'm not going to hex you, either," she added, seeing the way she was stood, tall and bracing her feet, ready to take a hit.
Slowly, not quite convinced, Winona began to relax her tensed muscles. "You're…not?"
Angelina abandoned the pretence of reading, shutting her book with a snapping noise and turning her full attention to Winona. "I've known there was something you weren't telling us," she admitted. "I didn't think things between you had gotten quite so…far," she said it delicately, but even Winona – worldly as she was – had to flush at the memory of being caught naked with Fred. "But I'm not mad."
"You're not mad," Winona echoed, like she'd spoken a different language altogether.
"Being mad would only be a waste of my time and energy," Angelina said. Somehow the words stung, and Winona looked away, guilt like a poison in her veins. Angelina seemed to realise she'd come across a bit harsh and sighed, folding her hands together in her lap. "I just meant that it's pointless to be angry. I think some part of me knew from the start, that this was how it was always going to end. It's my own fault, really."
Winona didn't know what to say to that. Angelina just smiled sadly.
"Fred never meant to hurt you," Winona eventually said. Angelina's eyes tightened and her lips pressed into a thin line, but otherwise she didn't react. "It's not my place to apologise for him, so I won't. But I just don't want you thinking he's some demon for all of this. I'm just as much to blame."
"Look, Winnie, I loved Fred, or at least I thought I did. Turns out that maybe I don't know what it means to love someone after all. And I'm glad I have the chance to learn."
Winona didn't react, staring at her in warring confusion and concern.
"You and Fred? You were always meant to be. And how could I resent him just for being in love with you? Especially considering he always has been, and I was just too blind to see it."
Guilt twisted in Winona's gut, as if someone took her insides and wrung them out like a washcloth. But around the edges of the guilt was a warmth, like roses of magic blooming in her chest. Her skin prickled and she was uncomfortably aware of Angelina's words. They rang in her head like the toll of a bell.
He's in love with you; he always has been.
It echoed over and over, making her heart flutter and her insides curl. Could it be what she'd felt, being with him earlier in bed? Was that what made it so different to her experiences in the past?
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't, not to Angelina and certainly not to herself. Fred felt strongly about her, and she was just as gone on him. Thinking about it now, she couldn't possibly look back and pinpoint the moment her feelings had turned from platonic to something more. It was more a gradual crescendo of feeling, a million tiny moments and glances and innocent touches that had blossomed into what they had now.
"I know you love him too," said Angelina, bringing Winona abruptly from her whirlwind thoughts. When she looked up, it was with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. "And I know that scares you," Angelina continued as if she wasn't cutting to the very core of Winona's personal demons. "But Winnie, you should tell him."
Winona cleared her throat, distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah," she agreed. "Maybe one day."
Angelina looked disappointed, but she knew Winona well enough by now to know not to push. Winona, while very eager to get off the subject of Fred, knew there was still too much to say.
"Fred's my boyfriend," she blurted before she could think of a more tactful way to phrase it. It sounded juvenile, said like that, but it was no less true. "We're dating, and I'd really like for that not to ruin what you and I have as friends."
Angelina peered at her, long and assessing, and it took a lot for Winona not to shift her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "That was direct," Angelina finally said.
"I figured you'd appreciate the honesty."
Her friend smiled, soft and still a little sad, but mostly just sincere. "I do," she confirmed. "We're still friends, Winnie, and we always will be. I'd never let that change over a boy."
Winona let out a sigh of relief, feeling it in her bones. "Neither would I."
"I'm sorry I've been keeping Alicia and Katie away so often," Angelina said, but Winona was waving her off before she'd even finished speaking.
"I hoard the twins to myself all the bloody time," she laughed, a tad hysterical. She couldn't help it, this whole evening had been a rollercoaster of emotion. "The girls were supporting you. I'd never begrudge you that."
Angelina pushed aside her Transfiguration textbook and the few spare rolls of parchment she had splayed out in front of her, then patted the bedspread and opened her arms out wide. Winona didn't hesitate to hop onto the bed, bouncing twice before she fell still, and wrapped her arms tight around Angelina.
She expected the hug to end quickly, but Angelina held tight and Winona got the sense she needed the comfort, holding her back just as tight.
"Do me a favour?" Angelina asked, words muffled by her shoulder.
"Anything, Ange."
"Don't fuck it up."
It was so unexpected that Winona began to laugh hysterically. Thinking about it, she wasn't sure she'd ever heard Angelina swear before.
"I mean it," her friend said into her shoulder, readjusting her grip on their hug just to hold her closer. "You've got something special with him, the kind of thing people like me dream about. So don't let it go."
Subdued, Winona tucked her face into Angelina's neck. Winona had never noticed before, but she smelled just like a pine forest. Airy, along with a hint of the perfume she'd dabbed on that morning – something French and expensive.
Perhaps for the first time, Winona shut her eyes and sent a prayer to the heavens. Just a quick one, thanking the Powers That Be for letting her be experiencing Hogwarts in the here and now, in the same year as this wonderful girl. Winona shagged her ex-boyfriend and here they were, hugging like sisters.
That wasn't to say Angelina was the perfect friend; she'd said things and done things that had hurt her, but to be completely fair, so had Winona. All she could do was swear to try to be better from now on, without jealousy or resentment clouding things between them, and hope Angelina swore the same.
Finally pulling away, Winona was horrified to find tears glittering in her friend's dark eyes. Angelina laughed at her stricken expression, wiping her eyes quickly and then reaching over to her bedside table where a small tray of nail polish sat idly.
"Wanna paint each other's nails and talk about Fred's penis?" Angelina offered brightly.
Startled, Winona could only throw her head back and laugh.
The other girls appeared an hour or so later, the party downstairs finally beginning to wind down. They walked into the dorm to find the two of them – previously at odds – huddled together in bed, both with green masks painted on their faces, Angelina doing Winona's hair up into an elaborate braid.
Alicia and Katie paused in the doorway, eyeing the scene before them like they half expected it to shimmer out of existence like a mirage, but then Winona waved them in and the spell – for lack of a better word – was broken. The invisible tension which had plagued them all for so many weeks finally dissolved into nothing, leaving in its place the ability to finally breathe.
Winona awoke the next morning with something of a headache, thanks in part to the firewhisky she'd been throwing back the night before. She got out of bed with a groan, showered, brushed her teeth thoroughly and changed into her clothes for the day, pulling her robes over the top of her jeans and teeshirt, hefting up her ever-present satchel and making her way downstairs.
The girls were already up, all down at breakfast apart from Katie, who stood in the far corner of the common room with the other girls in her year. Winona waved to her in greeting, and she returned the gesture before turning back to her conversation.
Something collided with her before she could even fully leave the bottom step. Arms wrapped soundly around her middle and her spine was pressed up against the stone of the common room wall.
She craned back her head, looking up at her gentle assailant in surprise. "Fred?"
But Fred didn't respond with words, he simply ducked down to plant a toe-curling kiss on her lips. Held snug between him and the wall, Winona kissed him back with fervour, memories from the night before flashing behind her eyes – acres of soft skin and countless freckles and the sounds he made when she raked her nails down the length of his spine.
There was a loud, obnoxious whistle from across the room and Fred pulled back from her. Admittedly a little dazed, Winona blinked up at him, head foggy. "Good morning," Fred told her, voice impish, because he knew exactly what he was doing to her – the bastard.
"Certainly seems to be, doesn't it?" she replied, blinking again, eyelids droopy.
Fred looked awfully smug, and she narrowed her eyes at him. That just wouldn't do. She was just about to kiss him again – this time within an inch of his life – but an exasperated call of her name tore her from her task.
She peeked over Fred's shoulder to find George and Lee watching them with mixed amusement and disgust.
"If we don't leave now, we're not going to be able to eat before class," George reminded them with a nod at the grandfather clock in the corner of the common room. "And we all know how cranky a certain someone gets on an empty stomach," he added in Winona's direction.
Winona pulled a rude gesture that only made him laugh, so she turned away, grabbing Fred's hand instead. "C'mon," she said, smiling as she tugged him towards the portrait hole.
The group of girls in Katie's year were all staring at them with gaping mouths, and it occurred to Winona suddenly that this was their official reveal. They were out as a couple now. There was no more secret to guard. She was torn between both relief and terror at the realisation.
"Loosen up," said Fred in her ear as they walked, following Lee and George as they made their way down the moving staircases towards the Great Hall.
"I just hate being the centre of attention," Winona replied, looking deliberately away when a group of passing Ravenclaw girls tittered in their direction.
Fred rolled his eyes. "Nobody's going to care."
"I think you underestimate just how popular you are," she bit back. Slipping her free hand into the pocket of her robes, she curled her fingers around the warm, smooth wood of her wand and let it ground her; let it remind her she was still in control. People knowing had no effect on her and Fred's relationship. Things would be the same as ever, just as she liked it.
"You're right," said Fred with a snobbiness to his voice that made her look up in surprise. "I'm terribly, unmatchably popular, and we'll be the topic on everyone's lips now that you've finally managed to coerce me into bed."
Eyebrows shooting upwards, Winona gripped his hand tighter as a grin stretched across her face. Leave it to Fred to take her deepest anxieties and turn them into something that could make her smile.
"As I remember it, there wasn't much coercion involved," she replied, the warm grin melting down into a coy smirk. She pushed herself up onto her toes to breathe into his ear, "What was it you said? I've wanted you so long I've forgotten what it felt like not to."
Fred's face went a blotchy red even as he grinned, flushing at the sound of his sweet nothing whispered in the light of day.
"Okay," he relented. "Fair point."
She realised then that he'd been attempting to distract her – and that it had worked. It probably should have worried her that he could play her like a fiddle, plucking strings at will, knowing just how she'd react. But instead of worry, she felt comfort. Comfort for having someone know her so intimately that he knew what she needed even when she didn't.
They walked into the Great Hall, and Winona knew she was imagining the way everyone seemed to stare at them. Even still, she burrowed into Fred's side like she might be able to sink inside him and disappear from sight. Angelina and the others were sat towards the middle of the table, and Winona felt lighter than air over the fact they could sit with them without having to worry about things being tense or awkward.
Alicia let out a playful catcall as she caught sight of Winona and Fred's intertwined hands, but otherwise the fact that anything had changed wasn't acknowledged. Winona felt the weight begin to lift off her chest the longer breakfast went on without anyone making a comment or altering their usual routine. And then breakfast was over and they were heading to Charms, and her anxieties had been all but shaved away.
Class passed uneventfully, and by the time lunch came round, Winona was ready for some time alone. "As much as I cherish and adore you," she said to Fred playfully, ignoring George's teasing jeer at her words, "I'm going to go find some empty, well-lit corner of the castle and spend my lunch sketching."
"You don't wanna come eat with me?" Fred asked, swinging their linked hands between them.
"Not hungry," she shrugged.
And Fred knew her well enough to know that when she got into one of these moods – the kind where the only thing she hungered for was the scratch of graphite against parchment – it was best just to leave her to her distraction until she'd poured all her inspiration into a project and finally come out the other side of it.
"All right," he said, and she felt a rush a bubbling affection at his easy acceptance of her creative whims. "Been meaning to go over the new order form structure with George, anyway."
Winona pursed her lips to hide the stupid smile threatening to bloom.
"What?" Fred asked, brow furrowed.
"You're just kind of the best," she told him simply.
He made an indignant sound. "Kind of?" he echoed dubiously. "Well, that just won't do."
Winona's expression gave way to a laugh, and she squeezed his hand three times in quick succession. "I'll see you at dinner?"
Fred nodded, and she bounced onto her toes to press a firm kiss to his slightly-prickly cheek, dropping back down to the flats of her feet and smiling as they parted. She felt like she was floating on air and she wandered in a vague fashion through the castle, searching for the perfect place to sit down and draw.
Eventually she found a small alcove halfway up the Astronomy Tower. Tucked into the side of the spiral staircase and positioned at a bay window, the afternoon sunshine shone through the glass like golden air, and Winona curled up against the window, pulling out her things and getting to work.
It probably wouldn't surprise anyone to know she was sketching Fred, only this time it was how he'd looked in bed the night before, laid boneless in amongst his covers, grinning at her sleepily.
She wasn't working long before someone disturbed her peace, and were it anyone other than Harry, she might have hexed them for it. Shutting her sketchbook, she watched as her cousin climbed the stairs towards her, a pensive look on his face.
"Wotcher, Harry."
Harry looked a tiny bit sheepish. "When you didn't meet us at the Charms classroom, I got worried," he said, and Winona let out a curse.
"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot," she told him, slapping herself in the face in reprimand. "Things have been so hectic since then – I didn't even think-"
"It's okay," Harry told her before she could slap herself again. "To be honest, after the night I had, I'm not particularly in the mood to work on defence anyway."
"You had a bad night?" Winona asked, concerned. She shuffled over on her little bay window, leaving just enough room for Harry to squeeze in.
Harry settled into his spot, leaning back against the window and sighing when his head hit the sun-warmed glass. "Something happened. I tried to catch you last night, but I couldn't find you anywhere."
Winona's skin prickled with the memory of exactly where she'd been. "I was…otherwise engaged," she told him, cheeks pink. "What's up?"
"Did you hear about my dream in Divination?" Harry asked.
Winona's eyebrows shot up high. "You had a dream in Divination?"
Harry grimaced. "More of a nightmare."
"Spill," she ordered him, stern.
And so Harry recounted his Divination class from the day before – falling asleep to drift into dreams of Voldemort's rasping voice and the slithering hisses of a snake, followed by a curse that made him yell out in very real pain. Apparently the whole class had been staring at him when he came to, and Trelawney had demanded to hear his premonition.
"How the hell did I miss this?" Winona asked, staring at Harry in shock.
"Well, where were you last night?" Harry countered. "If you were busy, the news probably didn't get to you."
Winona's cheeks went pink again at the question, but luckily Harry was too distracted to notice. "I guess so," she said, glad her voice came out steady. "So then what happened?"
Harry told her how he'd left Divination and booked it up to Dumbledore's office, only to find him, Moody, and Fudge himself all engaged in a meeting inside. Winona asked what the hell the Minister was doing there, and Harry gave her a quick rundown of what little he overheard before he was caught eavesdropping by Moody.
But that wasn't anywhere close to everything Harry needed to tell her – it was once Dumbledore and his guests had left to go survey the grounds that the real curiosities began. Winona had heard of Pensieves before, but she didn't know too much about them. As Harry began to explain what exactly it was, and just how to worked, Winona listened with rapt attention.
But it was what he'd seen inside the Pensieve that was the real interesting part. Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, brought before the Wizengamot to face judgement for his crimes. Ludo Bagman brought before them too, on the charges of passing information to the Dark Lord's followers. Crouch's son had also been a Death Eater – sentenced to life in Azkaban at his own father's decree for torturing a pair of innocent wizards into insanity.
The more Harry spoke, the more empty Winona began to feel. The first war had been filled with horrors the likes of which she barely understood – and there was still so much more yet to come. They were barely halfway out of the dark, and the thought was as depressing as it was terrifying.
Finishing recounting what he'd witnessed in the Pensieve, Harry told her that Dumbledore found him there and they spoke about his dream.
"And he knew I'd had bad dreams over the Summer – Sirius has been in contact with him, too," he told Winona in an undertone. "He was the one to suggest the caves on the mountain as a place to hide out."
Winona wasn't sure she liked the idea of Dumbledore knowing exactly where Sirius was hiding, but she couldn't quite piece together the thought clearly enough to figure out why that was. She said nothing, staring out the window and trying find the peace she'd had before her serenity had been shattered like glass.
"Dumbledore says that, last time – back in the years leading up to the first war – there were disappearances; Muggle and wizard," said Harry quietly, worrying the inside of his cheek. "Have you – have you noticed the disappearances happening lately?"
Winona tipped her head back against the glass, trying to force its heat to sink into her skin and warm her suddenly-cold heart. "You mean Bertha Jorkins?"
"And Mr Crouch," Harry nodded. "There was also a Muggle – Frank, I think. He lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up. He's gone missing too, and Dumbledore thinks it's related."
They fell back into silence, and while it was easy, it was filled with foreboding. In the distance the castle's bell rang, signalling the end of lunch and the time to return to class. But neither Harry nor Winona moved, staring into empty space, each lost in their own tempest of thoughts.
"It's happening again, isn't it?" Harry finally whispered. "There's going to be another war."
Winona said nothing, swallowing around the uncomfortable lump in her throat. She felt Harry turn his head, his green eyes boring into the side of her face.
"I know you know, Winnie."
Tell me the truth. Please. I can't handle any more lies.
And if there was one thing Winona was sure of, it was that she was never going to lie to him. Not about this, or anything else.
"I don't have answers," she told him. At the bottom of the spiral staircase was a buzz of chatter and laughter, but being as it was the middle of the day, nobody had need of the Astronomy Tower, and they knew they were safe from prying ears. "I get visions – mere flashes – and sometimes feelings, like something unseen is pulling me in the right direction. That's all. It's not like I can scream a question into the aether and expect a coherent answer in return."
Harry sighed. "I know."
"But," she continued quietly, "I see some things. Nothing good. Screams and darkness. Death without end. When I'm awake it's usually easy to filter it all out – focus on only what I absolutely need to see. But when I fall asleep, it hits me. All the fear and pain and hatred. I don't remember any of it, not in any way I could explain. But something's coming. There's a storm on the horizon, Harry, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only person who can see it coming," she confessed, horrified to find her eyes stinging with tears.
Slowly, Harry looped an arm around her shoulders and Winona sank gladly into his tentative embrace. "You're not," he promised her. "I see it too."
The relief those simple words gave her was indescribable, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. She'd never noticed before, but Harry smelt like an herb garden – fresh parsley and basil, straight from the soil – mixed with the slight chemical scent of the same broom polish brand the twins used on their broomsticks. It was strangely endearing, because that was pretty much Harry in a summary.
Wonderfully down-to-earth, just like fresh herbs, with a little bit of Quidditch thrown in. She wondered how anybody could look at this boy and see some untouchable superstar. To Winona, he was just Harry; her cousin; her family.
"You're not alone," she said suddenly, taking them both by surprise. She lifted her head to look Harry in the eye, making sure he knew the depth of her vow. "Whatever's coming, whatever we're walking into – we walk into it together."
Harry stared at her a long moment, feeling the weight of her words on his chest, and slowly he smiled. "That's what families do, isn't it?" he asked, aiming for playful but just hitting subdued. "They stick with each other through thick and thin?"
Winona shrugged against him. "So I've been told."
He paused a moment, considering. "I've never had a proper family before," he finally murmured, something like wonder in his voice.
Winona wrapped her arm around his middle and squeezed him tight. "You're never gonna be without one again," she promised him, feeling it in her very bones.
When they pulled apart it was with a silent agreement not to mention their eyes' matching misty sheen.
"What class do you have next?" she asked as she began to put away her things.
"Potions," he said, then grimaced. "And I'm late. Ugh, Snape's going to curse me on sight."
Winona waved her hand as if to bat away the words, ripping a piece of parchment off the roll in her bag and pulling free a self-inking quill, using it to scribe a quick note, then signing it off with a signature that wasn't hers.
"Did you just forge Flitwick's signature?" Harry asked, baulking at the sight of it. She grinned wickedly and Harry brought it closer to his face. "It looks perfect," he marvelled.
"I can do every teacher in the school," she told him proudly. "The twins struggle to be places on time, so I learned how to get them out of trouble pretty early on."
Harry laughed quietly and Winona grinned at the sound. "I'll see you later?" he asked as he folded the parchment and stuffed it into his pocket.
"You know it."
They parted at the bottom of the Tower, Harry going one direction and Winona in the other. Arithmancy dragged, but it wasn't so bad. She was able to lose herself in the numbers and work.
Thinking the day was a success, she picked up her bag at the end of class and made her way from the room, only for somebody to come up behind her and shove their shoulder roughly into hers, nearly sending her into a nearby wall.
"What the fuck, Hawkins?" she demanded, turning around on a Slytherin girl in their year, finding her and another two girls staring at her with sneers on their ugly faces. "Can I help you?" she asked snidely, automatically reaching for her wand, gripping it in steady fingers.
"Sorry, I thought you'd have known I was there," said Dahlia Hawkins – a girl Winona had spoken to maybe twice in her time so far at Hogwarts – both instances of which had dissolved quickly into fights. "You know, since you're meant to be a Seer and all."
"Fuck off," Winona muttered, shouldering her way by her, ignoring the small crowd that had begun to gather around the hallway they were stood in.
Hawkins, however, thrived on the attention. "Although, if you really were a Seer," she said it sarcastically, like Winona were no more than a child going through a phase, "wouldn't you have picked a better choice of boyfriend?"
Winona's insides froze to ice, and she slowly turned back around to look at the Slytherin. Her fire-engine-red lips were pulled back in a sneer, teeth bared like an angry baboon. "Excuse me?" Winona asked, deathly still, and the crowd around them shifted excitedly.
"You heard me," Hawkins said, high on all the beady eyes watching their encounter. She couldn't back down now, she'd look like a coward; the only way out of this was through. Which suited Winona just fine. "If you could really see the future, I'd have thought you'd pick a better suitor. Everyone knows the Weasleys are nothing but dead weight. You're setting yourself up for a lifetime of poverty and debt."
Winona's brain stopped working, and before she knew what she was doing her wand was out of her pocket. Hawkins – who was already gripping hers, probably having expected it to come to this – quickly flicked out her wrist, but she was too slow.
With a hissed, "Expelliarmus," Hawkins' wand went flying – but unfortunately Winona couldn't disarm more than one person at a time, and one of Hawkins' friends had their wand ready, too. In a blink her own wand was hitting the floor, but Winona didn't waste time bothering to pick it up.
She just charged, taking sick pleasure in the horror on Hawkins' face as she barrelled towards her with all the uncompromising force of a dark curse. Winona's fist connected with the side of her face, and she yelped as she hit the ground, but Winona wasn't done.
The struggle that ensued was hardly dignified, but Winona had spent enough time fending for herself in the harsh reality of the Muggle world that she didn't care. Hawkins screeched in one long burst, using her nails to scratch at any exposed piece of skin she could find. Winona landed a punch to her gut that cut off her scream, but before she could wrap her hands around her thick neck, two sets of hands wrapped around her middle and lifted her up off Hawkins body.
"Merlin, Win," Fred was panting in her ear. "I leave you alone for an hour…"
The Slytherins were helping a seething Hawkins to her feet. "She's crazy!" Hawkins was screeching to anyone who'd listen, blood dripping down her chin from the cut on her lip made by Winona's mother's ring. "You and your poor, ginger pets deserve each other!"
Winona tried leaping at her again, but Fred held her back with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She settled for shoving her finger in Hawkins' direction, making the Slytherin squawk with offence. As Fred dragged Winona around the corner, she heard Hawkins' friends shouting for somebody to get a teacher, and Winona cringed at the thought of facing Dumbledore after this.
Fred finally put her down once the commotion of the fight had drifted into the distance. Back on her own two feet, Winona realised he wasn't alone. George was stood with him, along with a wide-eyed Katie, who looked like she was getting ready to give Winona the scolding of a lifetime.
"Blimey, Win," said George reproachfully.
Winona just took a deep breath, reaching up to prod gently at the sore area beneath her eye where Hawkins had gotten a good hit in. Yeah, that was going to be sore tomorrow.
"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?!" Katie demanded shrilly.
"Hawkins was out of line," Winona replied without so much as a hint of remorse. "It's her own fault. And if they hadn't disarmed me, I wouldn't have had to punch her to get the job done."
Katie dropped her face into her hands and George patted her consolingly on the shoulder, like they were Winona's parents and she'd greatly disappointed them. Winona rolled her eyes.
"What'd she even say that made you snap like that?" Fred wondered. Winona mumbled her answer, and Fred stepped closer to hear her better. "Say again?"
"I said she called you dead weight," Winona snapped, balling her hands into fists at the mere thought. Who did she think she was? What did she think gave her the right? "She was just talking shit, Fred. So I put her in her place. You would have done the same."
Fred surprised her by grinning, fond and just a little crooked. "Yeah, probably," he admitted openly. Concern clouded his expression and he reached up to brush his thumb over the bruise forming beneath her left eye. She leaned into his touch, trying to let the feel of him wash away Hawkins' cruel words. "Come on," he finally said. "We'll go back to the dorm, rub in some salve."
"You're gonna rub something in, alright," snickered George under his breath. Katie gasped and went bright pink, while Winona just laughed and slapped him upside the head as she walked past with a smug-looking Fred. It hurt her hand, and looking down at her knuckles she found them in about as bad of a state as her face.
She and Fred left the hallway, taking the long way to Gryffindor Tower so they hopefully wouldn't run into anyone on a warpath to find her. The common room was half full when they arrived, and again Winona got the terrible sense they were being watched. She ducked her head and followed Fred up to the boys' dorm, ignoring the catcalls that followed in their wake.
Didn't these people ever get any new material?
Fred sat her down on the edge of his bed, and Winona gladly put down her bag and kicked off her shoes, shuffling backwards into the middle of his mattress. She collapsed back into his fluffy pillows and breathed in his sense, enjoying this small moment of peace, knowing that when the consequences of her actions caught up to her, it wasn't going to be pretty.
"That temper of yours is gonna get you in trouble, one of these days," said Fred with a smirk, seeming to materialise beside the bed. He took a seat on her right – which Winona had come to think of his side of the bed – and motioned for her to scoot closer.
"Like it hasn't already?" she asked dryly, shuffling towards him and watching as he dipped his fingers into the jar of homemade salve he and George had cooked up. He gently began to rub the bright orange salve over the bruise slowly forming beneath her eye. She felt it warm as it began to sink into her skin, doing its job. With any luck, there wouldn't even be any swelling.
"I kind of liked it though," he told her impishly as he worked. "You defending my honour, and all."
Winona couldn't help but smile, just like always when Fred was around. He was like the sunshine after the storm, and thinking back to her conversation with Harry, she hoped the same could stay true in the face of the trials of the coming years.
"Seriously though, Win," he said softly, finishing with her eye and picking up her hand, beginning to gently rub the orange salve into her swollen knuckles. "You can't just punch everyone who talks shit in life."
"But that's literally how we met," Winona reminded him sweetly, but Fred didn't laugh like she'd expected him to.
"What am I meant to do if you get expelled?" he asked her seriously.
"Are you kidding?" she baulked. "Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen. I'm far too valuable."
"You can't just keep relying on your worth to Dumbledore to get you out of trouble," he said, gentle but still scolding. "Someday that might not be enough."
"You're one to talk," she said, nudging him gently with her uninjured hand. "You invented the word troublemaker."
Fred rolled his eyes, fingers still carefully rubbing his salve into her hand. It was kind of distracting, but the pain was beginning to lessen, so she knew it was doing its job. "Maybe so," he agreed, "but I don't go around decking everybody who pisses me off."
"Face facts," she argued. "I'm 90% of your impulse control. If the situation were reversed and you were alone, you'd have done the same."
And Fred certainly couldn't disagree; he probably knew she'd just see straight through any lie he tried to pull. "I'll promise to work on my impulse control if you do the same," he reasoned. "We still have one more year of school to go."
"So, what you're saying is, once we graduate, I'll be free to punch anyone I like?"
And finally she managed to make him laugh. He tipped his head back like a little kid, grinning at the ceiling above them. Proud of herself, Winona watched as he shook his head in amusement and screwed the top back onto the jar of salve.
"Sure," he told her fondly. "In fact, I encourage it."
Winona opened her mouth to reply, but she was stopped by a loud thumping noise from out in the hallway. Both she and Fred fell silent, staring across at the door, a sinking suspicion as to who it might be bubbling unpleasantly in their guts. There was a sharp knocking at the door, then a familiar, croaky voice called out, "I'm coming in, so you'd best be decent in there."
Eyes wide, the pair watched as the door burst open, revealing Professor Moody in the doorway. He looked as terrifying as ever, but even more so in the doorjamb of Fred's dorm – a place they'd certainly never expected him to appear.
His one good eye narrowed in on Fred, while his magical one was focused on Winona, sat in the middle of Fred's bad, salve still half-visible on her face.
"Miss Black," Moody said in his gravelly voice.
Winona's spine snapped up straight. "It's Andrews," she corrected him sharply.
Moody didn't so much as blink. "Could've fooled me."
Winona bit her lip to keep it from curling at him like a feral animal, residual anger still lingering from her fisticuffs with the bad-mouthed Slytherin. "Can I help you, Professor?" she asked, voice like ice.
"You're to come with me," Moody told her, tone leaving no room for argument; but damn if Winona didn't want to try. She opened her mouth to fight against it, a seed of panic settling in her gut, but Moody spoke over the top of her. "Kiss your little boyfriend goodbye and follow me. Now, please, Miss Andrews," he snapped coldly, turning around with an agility that surprised them, limping from the doorway.
Fred's ears were red, but Winona was too full of irritation to feel any embarrassment. She climbed off his bed and shouldered her bag, stuffing her feet back into her shoes. "I'd better go face the music," she said reluctantly. "If I'm not back in an hour, assume Dumbledore's murdered me out of sheer frustration."
Fred rolled his eyes as she left, blowing a kiss her way that was definitely more sarcastic than genuine, but it made her happy nonetheless.
The students lingering in the common room stared at Winona openly as she followed a perpetually-scowling Moody towards the portrait hole. The older students snickered at her misfortune, thinking she'd been caught shagging Fred by a teacher. Honestly, she might have preferred that over the truth.
Watching Moody climb out of the portrait hole was almost hilarious, but nobody dared laugh. Once he was safely on the other side, Winona climbed out with a touch more grace, then gripped the strap of her bag as she reluctantly followed him deeper into the castle.
It took her longer than it probably should have to realise they weren't heading in the direction of Dumbledore's office. She kept her mouth shut though, not wanting to risk the chance of avoiding Dumbledore just that little bit longer.
When Moody led her into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, then up the back to his office, Winona began to grow weary. What if Moody was going to punish her himself? Something told her he wasn't afraid to throw about a dark curse or two. Would he really go that far? She wasn't sure; he was batshit crazy, so really, anything was possible.
"Um," said Winona as Moody shuffled inside his office, collapsing into the chair at the far end of the room, right in front of a set of ghostly mirrors. The whole office reeked of some kind of incense, kind of like the stuff Trelawney burned in her attic, but this smelt more like ash than any actual herbs. "Is Dumbledore meeting us here?"
"Dumbledore isn't coming," Moody told her point-blank.
Winona blinked. "Oh."
Moody rested his walking stick against the edge of his large oak desk. It was cluttered, covering in loose sheets of paper and the odd animal skull. Winona didn't want to think about where they'd come from.
"I see no reason to involve the Headmaster in such matters," Moody continued, almost conversational. "He's a busy man."
Winona was just feeling more and more out of her depth; like she'd been thrown in the deep end and hadn't even realised she was treading water until that moment. She looked around the room, hoping to find something to distract herself.
It occurred to her suddenly that Moody had found her in a place she hadn't thought a teacher would have the guts to look. "How'd you know I'd be in the boys' dorms?" she wondered.
Moody shoved aside a thick tome on his desk to reveal a familiar piece of parchment splayed across its surface. "I had some help," he said, both eyes fixed on her. Chills broke out across her skin, but not the good kind. The kind that came before something very bad. "Girls aren't supposed to be up in the boys' dorms," he added, stating the obvious.
"Is that really the infraction you're choosing to go with? Because I just tried to break a Slytherin's nose with my bare hands," she reminded him stupidly.
Moody's tongue darted from his mouth in a strange flicker, and he reached immediately for the flask at his hip, taking a deep gulp of the liquid inside. "I hear it wasn't much of a fair fight," he rasped. "You've got a history with violence. But Pure-bloods? They wouldn't know a punch from a slap if it came down to it. Think they're above that sort of thing."
Winona was silent, not knowing what she could possibly say to that.
"Been in my fair share of fights too, y'know?" he continued, gesturing halfheartedly to what was left of his mangled face. "Never had anyone to rub salve into my wounds. Probably why I ended up like this, eh?" he said, giving a hoarse laugh that was like sandpaper against her frayed nerves.
Winona shifted her weight from foot to foot, having not taken a seat. Moody hadn't exactly offered her one, and besides, the closest thing to a second chair was a nearby stool on wheels that was piled high with unopened mail.
"So, erm, am I going to be getting a detention, or…?"
Moody looked away, peering into the mirrors surrounding him, then he glanced back at her, an ugly smile twisted on his face that she supposed was meant to be somehow comforting. "I'll make you a deal," he began, and alarm bells rang in Winona's head instantly.
"A deal," she parroted tonelessly.
"No detention, so long as you agree to give me some information."
Winona stared at him, wordless. He just stared right back, one good eye narrowed while his magical one zipped about the room, settling on her every other heartbeat. Winona swallowed thickly. "What kind of information?" she finally asked, a healthy dose of suspicion in her voice.
"I'll tell you once you've agreed," Moody shrugged. But the action didn't seem casual on him. It seemed carefully calculated, like something he'd done to make her trust him. She didn't like it. She didn't like him.
Winona considered it, watching him cautiously, until finally she shook her head. "I think I'd rather the detention."
Moody's magical eye stopped its paranoid whizzing to focus on her, and she felt it like a rainfall of needles against her skin. He assessed her a long moment, looking her up and down, staring as if he were trying to see into her very soul. Uncomfortable, Winona crossed her arms over her chest.
"Well, if you'd rather the detention, I'm sure that can be arranged," Moody eventually declared. He gripped the bulbous end of walking stick and used it to leverage himself to his feet. "We'll just stop by the Headmaster's office and have him sign off-"
"Wait," Winona interrupted him, shutting her eyes in defeat. She heard Moody sit back down in his chair, and she could feel his satisfaction. He'd played her like a fiddle, and she'd just sat there and let him. In that moment, she thought she hated him a little. "This is blackmail," she muttered, half unable to believe the situation she'd gotten herself into.
"It's a mutually beneficial arrangement," Moody corrected her without so much as a hint of shame. She hated him for that.
She took a moment to balance her options. Either Moody took this to the Headmaster, or she agreed to hand over the knowledge he wanted. It didn't take a genius to know he wanted to know something about the future – otherwise he wouldn't have come to her, the only person in the school who could see beyond the present.
The future was the only thing she had to offer anyone.
"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "What do you want to know?"
If he asked for an answer she couldn't give, she'd march up to Dumbledore's office herself just to avoid revealing what was meant to stay hidden.
A hungry look appeared in Moody's one good eye. It was an expression she'd seen countless times before, on countless other faces. Fudge had looked at her the same way; practically drooling at the possibility of power that came from having a Seer in your back pocket.
To know the future was to control the present. And who could pass that up?
"Potter," he nearly snarled the name, and the sound of it prickled at Winona's skin. "How does he fair in the final task?"
It was probably the last thing Winona had expected him to ask. What did Moody care about Harry's future in the Tournament? Why should that possibly matter to him enough to risk blackmailing a student over?
"I don't know," she told him, relieved to know it was the truth. "I haven't seen anything about it."
She could tell how displeased Moody was with her answer, and she hoped he'd simply shout for a moment before letting her leave, but instead he just leaned closer, intent on getting something out of this encounter – although it was impossible to say exactly what.
"I'd have thought you'd care more for your cousin's wellbeing, Miss Black," he said deliberately, like somebody pulling the winning move in a game of chess. She hated that the blatant manipulation actually worked, but even still, she took the bait.
"I care for my cousin's wellbeing more than every single adult in this entire school combined," she snapped hotly, ire igniting in her bones. "Otherwise he wouldn't even be a champion in this deathtrap of a tournament."
Something like a sneer spread over his gnarled, twisted face. It took Winona longer than it should have to finally realise it was meant to be a smile, and she knew then that she'd played right into his hand.
Moody leaned back in his chair, magical eye returning to whizzing about the room, scanning for enemies, while his one good eye narrowed at her. "So you've not Seen even a single thing about the outcome of this final task?" he demanded.
Winona sat straighter in her chair. "Why does it matter to you?"
Moody leaned backwards, assessing her for an uncomfortable few moments before responding. "I suppose you could say I've taken young Potter under my wing, this past year," he told her, but the words sounded stale and insincere to her ears. "I want to make sure he gets through this in one piece."
Winona arched an eyebrow. "Well, if you're so concerned about him, why don't you take him aside for private tutoring in Defence?" she suggested. "Knowing the future does very little to change its outcome, unless you actually plan on doing something differently in the present."
She could tell Moody didn't like that, twisted smile now more of a threatening snarl. Her heart began to race as she got the strangest sensation of danger, like a warning underneath her skin, urging her to flee to safer waters.
But Winona had never been any good at listening to her instincts. She stayed where she was, staring an angry Moody in the eye, chin tilted up defiantly. She watched his hand twitch in the direction of the wand at his hip, but he seemed to rein in the urge to curse her before it could get out of control.
"Have you seen anything?" he demanded, his one eye narrowed. "Anything at all?"
Winona said nothing, staring at him unsurely.
"The only thing I'm interested in is getting Potter through to the end of this Tournament in one piece," he pressed, and she was surprised to find that, at least, was believable. "I'm sure it's no secret to you, Miss Black, that there are dark things afoot. Some of which have already penetrated these walls," he finished in a hoarse whisper, as if the room itself was listening. "If you have Seen any threat to Potter's safety – to his life – then I'd think you'd be obligated to tell me about it now."
She wasn't obligated to do shit, but something told her saying that would only make him more likely to curse her the moment she looked away.
The worst part was – Moody was beginning to make sense. She'd told Dumbledore everything she'd seen, warned him about the tumultuous future ahead, but the old coot was becoming more shifty than ever, and Winona was slowly beginning to wonder if he was planning to do anything in the way of protecting them at all.
Maybe having someone like Moody on their side through all of this was the smart move. At the beginning of the school year the twins had been all but falling over themselves to tell her how famous he was throughout the wizarding world – for being about as bonkers as they come, true, but also for catching more of the dark wizards currently serving in Azkaban than any Auror who came before him.
With a record like his, she couldn't help but respect the man – even if he was stark raving mad.
"I've seen a graveyard," she confessed, but the moment they were out she wished she could grab hold of the words and stuff them back down her throat. She cleared her throat and pressed stubbornly on. "I don't know what it means – or what's supposed to happen there. Is a graveyard in any way a part of the third task?"
Moody's tongue darted out again, flicking at his lips like that of a snake smelling the air. He gripped the flask at his side and tipped its contents into his twisted mouth. "The third task is a maze, Miss Black," he told her. "A deadly labyrinth the champions will have to navigate if they intend to win."
"It's Andrews," Winona corrected him absentmindedly, staring into the fire burning away over in the corner, seeing not the flames nor the ash nor the stone surrounding it. All she saw were headstones and darkness, and all she could hear was the sound of somebody screaming – piercing shrieks that made her insides turn cold.
"Black," Moody snapped, and Winona blinked. There was no sketchbook in her hands, and her arms were free from marks, so she supposed the vision hadn't been the kind that required translation. It had just been a sense, like a dash of the future echoing back through time to reach her, reminding her it was coming. That it couldn't be stopped. "Black!" he snapped again, and she looked up from her empty lap, eyes glassy.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head to try and clear the fogginess from her brain.
Moody was leaning forwards her, deformed face narrowed in tense desperation. "What did you See?" he demanded, gnarled fingers curled tightly around his knees, like he wanted to reach out and shake the answer out of her, but knew that was going a step too far. "What did you See, Black?" he snarled the words like they burnt his tongue.
"Nothing," she lied. But even if she was going to tell the truth, she wouldn't know what to say. What had she seen? Not much, beyond a vague sense of a terrible future not so very far away.
Moody seemed to read something in her expression, and whatever it was made his intensity dial down. He leaned back in his chair, both eyes narrowed at her with such laser-like focus, she could almost feel the burn.
"I understand more than most, the need to keep one's secrets," he began, disarmingly conversational. "I've met a real Seer before, you know?"
Despite herself, Winona was intrigued. Moody read her interest like a book, smirking his twisted smirk.
"Cassandra Vablatsky," he said in his usual growl. "I take it you've heard of her?"
Winona nodded her head. "Of course I have. Who hasn't?"
"Well, many, many years ago, she and I had the opportunity for an in-depth conversation on the subject of her visions," Moody began to tell the tale, and Winona subconsciously edged forwards in her seat. "A wickedly accurate Seer, she is. At the time, she was bemoaning an accident that had befallen a friend. You see the irony, don't you?" he asked intently, curling his root-like hands at his knees again. "That she was a Seer, and she hadn't foreseen her friend's accident?"
Winona had no idea where he was going with this, but even so, anxiety twisted in her gut.
"Thing was, she had seen it happen. And she went to her friend, told her not to go travelling by air on that particular day. What do you suppose happened?"
Winona frowned. "Her friend didn't listen?"
"She did listen," he said, the words like the crack of a whip. "And she stayed away from all broomsticks, Portkeys, Floo networks and magic carpets on the day in question. But she still had somewhere to be that evening. And when you take away all those methods of transportation, what's left standing?"
It took her a moment to figure it out. "The Muggle ways?" she asked, fear swooping in her chest, making it harder to breathe.
Moody nodded gravely. "She took a Muggle aeroplane to her destination – damn thing crashed up in the alps."
Lungs unable to work, she said nothing as she stared at the teacher, horrified.
"Vablatsky knew her friend was going to die in the air, but not exactly how. Now, do you think that was likely to happen had she taken a more reliable mode of transportation – such as a Portkey?" Moody asked her critically. Winona couldn't speak. "Warning her friend of the future was exactly what caused her to go down the path that would ultimately kill her," he told her, his words deliberate, cutting down to the very core of her.
Winona swallowed around lump in her throat, hating the way her eyes burned with traitorous tears. "What's your point?" she wondered, if only as a distraction from her own internal crisis.
Moody's beady eye narrowed again. "My point, Miss Black," he said, snarling her name like it were a curse; she supposed, in some ways, it was, "is that I think you should be wise about with whom you share your predictions." He lifted a hand to tap a gnarled finger against the side of his obliterated nose. "It would be nasty indeed to have your warning be the very cause of the thing you fear, eh?"
Shaken down to a fundamental level, Winona cleared her throat. "Can I leave now, Professor?"
She couldn't say for certain, but she thought Moody smirked. "Off you go," he said with a nod. "Dumbledore need never know of your fisticuffs with the Slytherin lass."
Wary, Winona thanked him, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Moody watched her go, holey expression inscrutable, and she felt the weight of his eyes on her back long after she'd retreated back up to Gryffindor Tower, suddenly not so hungry for dinner after all.
A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed! Thought I'd briefly let you guys know that I'm still looking for Betas to help out with the MCU, Bucky/OC story that I'm working on. If you're at all interested, send me a private message and we'll talk about it! I'm really just looking for some extra feedback, so there's no real pressure!
Spotlight review of the week goes to: Karen0610 – thanks for your review! And to sate your curiosity, it absolutely is a subtle nod to the Buffyverse, which is also one of my favourites. It's a series very close to my heart. Hope you enjoyed this one!