Winona sat in her room for hours, one foot in the future, the other stuck firmly in the present. Nothing was coming to her; but then again, it rarely did. Trying to force a vision wasn't ever a particularly fruitful endeavour. Mostly it was just a lot of murky images and a faint sound that might have been screaming, although was too distant to know for sure.

Anything that she was supposed to see, she would see. Otherwise, searching for hint in the future was rather like floating in the sea, touching nothing and knowing nothing but the ebb and pull of the tide. It was endlessly frustrating, but it was easier to do as she was told.

Eventually Winona gave up, climbing to her feet and going through a series of stretches to work out the kinks in her back. She walked around her room, extinguishing the candles one by one, then she left her room, making her way downstairs in search of something to eat. Someone was screaming at somebody else downstairs, and Winona recognised the furious cadence of Mrs Weasley's voice. She wondered who was on the other end of her ire today.

"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" Sirius was snarling at Kreacher as she passed the drawing room. The bitter old House Elf scurried down the stairs as quickly as his wrinkled, runty little legs would carry him.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" she asked, slipping through the doorway, finding Sirius glaring at the spot where Kreacher had just been.

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione was pleading, ever the advocate for House Elf rights, "I don't think he realises we can hear him."

"He's been alone too long," muttered Sirius, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little-"

"If you could just set him free-" suggested Hermione, looking at Sirius with hope in her eyes.

"You kidding, 'Mione?" scoffed Winona, leant in the doorjamb, eyes wide with disbelief. "We set him free, he'll go running straight to the nearest pure-blood to spill all the Order's secrets. There's no way we can let the little bastard go."

"Don't call him that," Hermione scolded her sternly.

"She's right, Hermione," said Sirius. "Besides, the shock of being let go would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."

Sirius turned to the tapestry hung on the wall, the one which Winona supposed Kreacher had been trying to protect from their cleaning spree. It was faded and old, and despite all the hours she'd spent in this exact room over the last month, painting and meditating and kissing Fred, Winona really looked at it for the first time since she'd arrived.

It wasn't just decoration, she realised. Made from embroidered golden thread, it seemed to date back to the Middle Ages. She hadn't noticed it for what it was before now, being that it was so old and worn. Staring at it, she found names she recognised, and she realised with a soft exhale of surprise that this was her family tree.

"You're not on here," said Harry to Sirius, only to pause. "Wait – Winnie, there you are!"

And Winona realised with a start that he was right. A small, embroidered child's face was there on the wall, rather close to the bottom. She didn't recognise herself, but that was unsurprising. She had no pictures from her childhood. Orphans rarely did.

"I used to be there," said Sirius, pointing at a round, charred hole in the tapestry, where another face might have once been. It was just above Winona's image, a line connecting them together. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home – Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

Harry was surprised. "You ran away from home?" he asked curiously. Winona had already heard the story, during one of her and Sirius' late night, tea-fuelled chats. So as her dad began telling Harry all about his history, Winona knelt down at the tapestry, reaching out to cautiously run her fingertips down the rough surface of her own branch on the tree.

A body appeared next to her, crouched with her on the floor, and she was unsurprised to find it was Fred. He was staring at the embroidered face of her as a baby, although the image was distorted by time and neglect.

"Wow," Fred murmured, eyeing the image. "You were an ugly baby."

Bewildered, Winona turned to him with a small cry of disbelief. He was grinning widely, and she slapped him hard in the shoulder. "That's so rude," she said, ignoring his amused snickering. "I'm sure this doesn't do me justice."

"Go on then, how accurate is it?" he asked.

Winona fell quiet. "I dunno," she confessed and he stopped laughing, turning to her in confusion. "I don't have any pictures," she added, still dragging her fingertips over the embroidered rendering of her face.

"None?"

"None," she said, pulling her hand away and reaching for his instead.

"Does Sirius have any?" he asked helpfully.

"Doubt it," she whispered. "He lost everything when he was sent to Azkaban."

Fred took a moment to think. "What about Lupin?"

Surprised by the suggestion, Winona looked up. "Hm?"

"Well, he didn't lose everything, did he?" Fred asked smartly. "I'm sure he'll have photos you could look at."

It wasn't something she'd ever considered before. It gave her pause, and a dangerous flicker of hope appeared in her chest.

"Think you'll ask?" Fred wondered.

"I dunno," she whispered. "Maybe."

The door to the drawing room burst open, and Mrs Weasley appeared with a tray floating in front of her, piled high with sandwiches and cake. "Lunch," she said, red in the face from her screaming match with whoever was downstairs.

"Dung," Fred explained, and Winona nodded understandingly.

He looked longingly at the food, and she pushed him in his mother's direction. "Go; eat," she ordered him. "I'll be along soon."

Fred kissed her briefly on the cheek before following in George's path and swiping himself a small trove of sandwiches, scoffing them down like he was being timed. Winona rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry and her dad.

"I haven't looked at this for years – I didn't even know Winnie had been added…" Sirius was telling Harry, leant in close to the tapestry and eyeing the different names along its surface. "There's Phineas Nigellus … my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular headmaster Hogwarts ever had … and Araminta Meliflua … cousin of my mother's … tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal … and dear Aunt Elladora … she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays … of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned."

"Why am I on here?" Winona wondered, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Weren't the Potters blood traitors? And you and Jessica never even got married; which makes me illegitimate."

Sirius' smile was patient. "Yes, but Muggle-loving tendencies aside, Jess was a Pure-blood," he explained. "That's the only reason I can imagine you'd have been added to the tree. Despite your…less than palatable origins…you've still got more Pure-blood in you than even the majority of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"But I was never blasted off, like you?" Winona pointed out.

"Well, as far as she was aware, you died a martyr. Your fate was a consequence of my actions. She probably kept it up out of pity, or maybe to try and trick people into thinking she had a heart," said Sirius callously.

Winona laughed dryly. "She wouldn't have liked me at all, would she?"

Sirius clapped his hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "She'd have absolutely loathed you," he said like somebody else might deliver a great compliment. This time when Winona laughed, it was genuine.

"I see Tonks isn't on here," Winona pointed out, gesturing to the area of the tapestry that held Andromeda's destroyed face.

Sirius dropped her hand on her shoulder and folded both his arms behind his back, leaning closer to the tapestry to examine it. "Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her," he mused. "He's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him."

Harry blinked, looking between the two Blacks in surprise. "You're related to Tonks?"

"Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin," said Sirius. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look-"

He pointed to another burn mark between Bellatrix and Narcissa, and Winona grimaced for the hundredth time at the reminder that she was related to the Malfoys.

"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so-"

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Winona managed a chuckle that was just as bitter, and she shook her head at them. What a pair she and Sirius made. Jaded by the mistakes of those they were forced to call family. Harry, however, was gaping at the line that connected Draco Malfoy to Narcissa Black.

"You're related to the Malfoys?!" he exclaimed, stuck somewhere between disgust and disbelief.

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius with a dismissive flap of his hand. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods our choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage, and Arthur by his marriage to Molly," he told them casually.

"Oh God," said Winona with a horrified gasp. "I'm related to Fred?"

Sirius laughed, a deep-belly sound that drew the attention of the others. "Only by marriage, and it's a distant relation at best," he assured her. "You're not related by blood, Pup, don't worry."

The relief was strong in her veins, and Winona pressed a hand over her heart. Harry chuckled at her misfortune, and she sent him a rude hand gesture that only made him smirk.

"So, why aren't they on here?" Harry asked Sirius instead of mentioning it.

Sirius laughed without amusement. "You kidding? If ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys. My mother would have never put them on the family tree."

Harry looked back at the tapestry. "Lestrange…" he said, sounding curious, like he'd heard the name somewhere before.

"They're in Azkaban," said Sirius shortly. Harry frowned in confusion, and Sirius hurried to explain. "Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch Jr. Rodolphus's brother Rabastan was with them, too."

Harry looked vaguely sickened. "You never said she was your-"

"Does it matter if she's my cousin?" snapped Sirius, immediately defensive. "As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"

Harry looked stunned by the force of his reaction, glancing unsurely at Winona. She shot him a sympathetic look, but there was only so much she could convey without words. "Sorry," Harry told Sirius quickly, "I didn't mean – I was just surprised, that's all-"

"It doesn't matter, don't apologise," his godfather mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. "I don't like being back here," he confessed, staring across the drawing room without really seeing any of it. "I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again."

Winona watched him sadly. She couldn't imagine how difficult it was for him to be here. This was the house where he'd spent his childhood being ignored and shouted at and smacked around so much he'd had to come up with lies to tell people to explain the bruising.

Winona understood that pain; she'd lived that way, back in the foster system. She knew the injustice of it all. The perpetrators always got away with it. And sometimes it felt like they always would.

And now he was back, stuck inside, a prisoner once more. The thought of it made her heart ache, and she wished she knew what to say to make it easier. But she also knew that, even with all the magic in the world at her fingertips, there were no words that could disappear the pain away.

"It's ideal for headquarters, of course," Sirius continued as if he hadn't just admitted something terribly sad. "My father put every security measure known to wizard-kind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call – as if they'd ever have wanted to – and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore's Secret-Keeper for the Order, you know – nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is – that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore…"

Sirius gave one of his bark-like laughs, the kind he only made when there was something he didn't actually find funny.

"If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now…" he mused. "Well, my mother's portrait should give you some idea." He scowled for a moment, then sighed. "I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. At least you've been able be of some use," he added to Winona. She smiled at him sadly.

"Still," she said, "it's not the same as being free."

Sirius looked down at the floor, pensive, then turned to Harry. "I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you two to the hearing – as Snuffles, obviously – so I can give you a bit of moral support," he confessed. "What d'you think?"

Harry fell silent, becoming sombre at the reminder of his impending trial. But just as quickly he turned to look at Winona in surprise. "Wait, you're coming with me?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Why d'you think I made sure to be there for the attack?" she asked. "You were always going to need a reliable witness."

Harry's eyes didn't tear up, but they certainly went a little bit glassy. She didn't mention it, simply smiling at him gently. She realised now that he'd been operating under the assumption that he would be going into that trial alone, and she could see the relief in his eyes as he realised she would be beside him. Harry cleared his throat, and Winona kindly turned to her dad.

"Is it safe?" she asked him carefully. "Even as Snuffles, there's risk."

"What's life without a little risk?" he countered, and she found she had no answer for him. Harry was silent between them, and Sirius looked down at his godson, sympathy in his eyes. "Don't worry," he assured Harry gently. "I'm sure they'll clear you. There's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life."

"But if they do expel me," said Harry quietly, "can I come back here and live with you?"

Sirius smiled sadly. "We'll see."

It wasn't enough for Harry. "I'd feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys," he pressed.

Sirius frowned at the words. "They must be bad if you prefer this place," he said gloomily. Winona rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders.

"Wherever we are, you have a home," she promised him, even all the while knowing she shouldn't.

Sirius sent her a warning look that she wilfully ignored.

Dumbledore was very clear; until he turned seventeen, Harry's permanent residence – other than Hogwarts – had to remain the Dursley's. It was the only place he was truly safe, the magic from his mother's sacrifice keeping him hidden, so long as he lived under the same roof as Petunia.

It wasn't good, and it wasn't fair. But she also wasn't lying. Maybe Harry couldn't live with them all the time, but that wouldn't change the fact that wherever they were, that would always be his real home.

"Hurry up, you three, or there won't be any food left," Mrs Weasley called to them.

But to be perfectly honest, Winona didn't feel like staying in the room with Mrs Weasley and the others. She needed some time to think, and besides, she had a nagging voice in her head repeating Fred's words from before.

She took a handful of sandwiches from the tray Mrs Weasley had set down, then turned to Sirius. "Moony home?"

"Yeah, he's downstairs, making sure Dung doesn't nick the silverware," said Sirius distractedly.

"I'm gonna head down to see him," she told them. "I won't be long."

She caught Fred's eye, and he grinned at her knowingly. She pressed her lips together to stifle a grin of her own, rolling her eyes and turning to leave.

"Winona, dear," came Mrs Weasley's voice, "if you've finished with work for the day, then you won't mind coming back up after lunch to help us with the cleaning? We're tackling the glass cabinets next."

Winona had to take a breath before replying. "Sure, Mrs Weasley," she said, not nearly half as sweet. "I'll help."

She left without waiting for a response. The house was quiet as she made her way down the two flights of stairs to get to the kitchen, being careful to tiptoe past her grandmother's portrait – she had a grandmother; how fucking mental was that? – just to be safe. As she descended the stairs into the basement, voices floated up to her.

"Why won't Dumbledore let me on guard duty?" Mundungus was complaining.

"Because you can't be trusted with anything worth more than a Knut," Remus' remarkably patient voice told him dryly. "Imagine what you'd do in a room with that much value."

"C'mon," Mundungus griped. "I'm more trustworthy than you people like to think."

"Oh really?" Winona drawled as she entered the room, the pair of them looking up in surprise. "Then where are the silver scales from on top of that cabinet?"

Face turning white, Mundungus grumbled insults under his breath as he reluctantly fished the scales out from the folds of his sleazy suit. "S'just keeping it safe for ya," he insisted as he placed it squarely on the table between them.

"You're so slimy," she told him offhandedly, taking a seat beside Remus, noting his smirk as he read that day's copy of the Prophet.

"Y'know, Winona, I do 'ave feelings," said Mundungus in a pathetic little voice.

"You have dollar signs for eyes," she countered without missing a beat. Mundungus made a hand gesture that she ignored, and went back to devouring his own plate of lunch. "Moony," she began after she'd had a few of her own sandwiches. "Can I ask you something?"

Remus put down the paper, folding his hands together on top of it and turning to look at her curiously. "Of course."

"It's probably going to sound stupid – and you probably don't even have any, so it's a moot point anyway. But, well, Fred mentioned…and I thought I might as well ask…though really, it's fine if you don't-"

"Winnie," said Remus in his usual, patient way, looking mildly amused. "You've yet to actually ask me anything."

"Right," she murmured, tugging at the ring on her finger, the only thing she had left of her mum. It had been left with her when she'd gone into foster care, and she'd realised years ago that it must have been magical, because it had fit snugly around her finger even as a toddler. "Um, do you-do you have any photos of me and, erm, Jessica and Sirius? From before Jessica died, I mean?" she finally asked, hating how small she sounded.

Remus' eyes lit up with surprise as she stared at him expectantly, honestly a little afraid of his answer. He leaned back in his chair, considering her thoughtfully. "What makes you ask?"

"I saw the Black family tree, on the tapestry upstairs," she explained quickly. "I mentioned to Fred that I don't have any photos of myself as a kid."

"You don't have any?" Remus asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, I didn't get to keep anything of mine when I was put into foster care, and foster parents don't exactly care about preserving memories, y'know?" she told him, trying to make it sound like she didn't care. Even though she did. A lot.

"That's so sad…" Mundungus murmured pitifully from across the table.

"Shut up, Mundungus," Winona said without looking away from Remus.

"A lot of my things are still stored at my parents house, just outside of London," he told her quietly. "After Jessica, James and Lily died, and Sirius went to Azkaban, it was too hard to look at it all every day. I couldn't find it in me to part with it, though."

Winona felt disappointment curl in her gut. "Oh. So you don't have any with you."

The werewolf gave a ghost of a smile. "I didn't say that." He stood to his feet. "I'll be right back – keep an eye on him, would you, Winnie?" he threw over his shoulder in Mundungus' direction. Winona agreed and Remus left the room.

Mundungus tried to make conversation as they sat there, but Winona shut him down every time. She was too keyed up, too anxious about what she was going to see. She didn't have the patience to put up with Mundungus' ramblings.

Eventually Remus returned, carrying a small book in his hands. "After I realised Sirius wasn't a traitorous bastard after all, I was able to stomach looking at all these old memories again," he confessed, retaking his seat next to her and opening the book to show her.

She realised it was a small photo album and her heart froze for a beat as she watched him search for the right picture. Finally he found it, then laid the album open on the table for her to see. It was rather a special moment, and certainly not one she'd ever imagined Mundungus Fletcher would be present for, but some things were out of even her control.

The picture Remus had to show her was a simple one. A handsome young man with long black hair and tattoos was holding a small, pale baby in one arm. The other was wrapped around a woman with hair just as dark as Harry's. She was beautiful, all elfin features, with hazel eyes that sparkled in the sunlight above. The photo was moving – as all magical photos did – and when the woman smiled, all teeth and dimples, it rivalled even the sunshine.

Then the woman turned to the baby, gripping her little hands and moving them as if helping the baby wave. The man was smirking, looking exasperated but wholly content, and he dropped a kiss onto the baby's head almost like it were second nature.

Her throat suddenly felt too tight and dry, like somebody had stuffed it full of cotton wool. Winona stared down at the photo, watching as the little baby and the beautiful woman kept on waving, and the man with the long hair grinned lazily, bouncing the baby gently in his arms.

"Winnie?" Remus asked delicately.

Winona slammed the cover of the photo album firmly shut, as though the picture had been putting her under some sort of spell. "Thanks, Remus," she said, pushing the book back towards him.

"There are plenty more…"

"No," Winona snapped. Remus was staring at her with concern and she hated it. Grinding her teeth together, she used every ounce of strength in her to summon a smile. "Seriously, that was enough for today. Mrs Weasley wants me back upstairs."

He nodded slowly. "All right," he said, still staring at her with those large, knowing eyes. She felt the awful urge to retaliate – even though Remus hadn't done a thing wrong. It took a lot of willpower to take a deep breath and force herself to keep from snapping at him again. "Maybe another time?" he pressed gently.

Grinding her teeth so hard she half worried she'd break them, Winona shrugged and stood abruptly to her feet. "Touch any of Sirius' things again and I'll turn you into a lizard," she warned Mundungus without so much as a flinch.

Mundungus grimaced and held a hand over his heart. "You have my word."

Winona just scoffed and left the room.

It took three whole days for them all to finish cleaning out the drawing room to Mrs Weasley's standard. Winona hadn't really minded the way it was before – she could paint in a cave and hardly notice the difference – but she had to admit, it was nice not to have to worry about everything she touched potentially cursing her in one way or another.

She'd helped out with the cleaning when she could, but mostly she was stuck in Order meetings by Dumbledore's 'request'. Winona knew he was hoping that listening to their meetings would trigger important visions for her – and to her endless chagrin, it worked.

She'd Seen a family getting murdered at a housing estate in Gloucester, and the Order had managed the thwart the attack. She'd Seen a handful of crucial owls getting intercepted, and so the Order had changed their primary method of contact to the Floo Network, because it was easier to make secure. She'd also Seen a high ranking Ministry official getting kidnapped on her way to work. Bill and Mr Weasley had been able to keep it from happening; just in the nick of time.

The majority of the Order were still acting like she were some great oracle. It was getting on Winona's nerves to the point where she was beginning to snap at them for asking her mundane questions about their own personal futures.

"If one more person asks me whether they should change careers or take an extended holiday, I'm going to kill something," Winona warned her dad one afternoon before the day's scheduled Order meeting.

It was still early in the day, most of Grimmauld Place's residents still lingering in the kitchen, draining the last of the tea and nibbling at what remained of the sandwiches they'd had for lunch, taking advantage of Mrs Weasley's distraction on the floor above.

"Take it as a compliment," Sirius suggested around a mouthful of bread. "They think you're a good enough Seer that they're willing to come to you for advice. That's a good thing."

"I don't want to give out advice," she complained. "Look at me. Do I even look like the kind of person who should?" she demanded, gesturing to the holey pyjamas she still wore, despite the time being well after twelve, her unbrushed hair, paint-stained hands, and the dry cereal she was eating straight out of the box.

"Looks can be deceiving," said George from opposite her at the table.

"Shut up, Gandhi."

"Who's Gandhi?" George mouthed at Fred, who simply held his hands up in surrender, as if to say, "Don't drag me into this."

"It could be worse," said Sirius reasonably. "Everyone could hate you."

"Yeah," agreed George. "Wouldn't you rather be loved than hated?"

"Not if being hated meant I was left alone," she grumbled.

Fred smiled at her, patting his hands gently against her shins. Her legs were resting in his lap, and every now and again he'd tickle the bottoms of her feet. She'd make a face at him and he'd grin innocently. It was a hint of easy perfection in a world without any. "You're so grumpy," he said fondly. "It's adorable."

She made another face when he tickled her again. "All right," said Mrs Weasley briskly, plodding her way back down the narrow staircase into the basement where they were all going about their morning. "Lunch is over. We're moving onto the dining room next – you're all going to need gloves, so Remus got us some disposable ones from the shops last night…"

All the kids groaned but stood to their feet. They'd long ago learnt it was easier just to do as she said, rather than waste time arguing. When Winona didn't move, Mrs Weasley narrowed her eyes.

"You too, Winona," she said with a condescending clap of her hands, like the kind you gave children who weren't doing what they were told. "Up you get."

"Can't," Winona replied around a mouthful of cereal. "Order meeting in twenty minutes."

Mrs Weasley turned her narrowed, laser-like eyes onto Sirius. "She can't keep shirking responsibility like this, Sirius," she said sternly. "If everybody else has to clean, she should put in some effort, too."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room," Winona snapped, voice edged with steel.

Mrs Weasley turned back to her. "Well then, Winona, I think you need to pull your weight like the rest of the children," she said primly.

Winona wasn't sure what she'd done to so thoroughly piss off Mrs Weasley, but she wasn't about to stand being disrespected like that – not even by someone she thought of as the mother she'd never really had.

"I am pulling my weight," she said sharply. "You think it's fun sitting in Order meetings, listening to report after report on Death Eater activity, just waiting for a vision? Do you think it's easy, being stuck in the future, watching innocent people die? Or maybe you think I like being told terrible secrets? The kind I'm not even allowed to tell the people closest to me, because if I do, I'll die?"

Mrs Weasley didn't know what to say, staring back with glassy eyes.

"I might not be cleaning as much as the rest of you, but I'm pulling my weight just as much as anybody else in this house," she finished coldly. She hadn't raised her voice once. She hadn't even stood to her feet. She'd stayed reclined in her chair, box of cereal in her lap and a blank expression on her face. "Wouldn't you agree?" she asked sweetly.

Mrs Weasley made a sound that was half a clearing of the throat, half a sob, and without saying a thing she turned and darted away, scurrying up the steps as quickly as she could manage. Winona was left sat alone in the kitchen with her dad, feeling like just about the worst person on the face of the Earth.

She turned to Sirius, a frown pulling at her brow. "Am I a bitch?" she wondered.

"Maybe a little bit," her dad told her honestly. "But I find it endearing."

Winona snorted. "I think you're the only one."

When Sirius said nothing she looked up from the cereal box she'd been distractedly digging through. He was staring at her, and she didn't like the look in his eyes. It wasn't quite pity – but something dangerously close.

"You're just protecting Harry," he said quietly, the words flickering with warmth.

"How was that protecting Harry?" Winona asked, even though she knew, deep down, what he meant. Mrs Weasley had been acting like she got to choose what Harry could and couldn't know. Like she knew what was best for him. But as his cousin and the only blood family he had left, Winona found it – well, she found it insulting.

She hadn't realised until that moment, but that was what it was. She was insulted, and she was hurt. She wasn't the type to cry, but she was the type to take her emotions out on those around her. And unfortunately, Mrs Weasley had stepped unwittingly into her line of fire.

"I have to apologise, don't I?" she asked grimly.

Sirius smiled sympathetically. "'Fraid so, pup."

She sighed heavily and began to climb to her feet.

"Hey, not now," said Sirius. "People will be arriving soon. You need to be on your game. And you should probably go change."

Winona looked at herself. "What's wrong with this?"

He stared at her incredulously. "They're pyjamas."

"I don't need to be dressed to tell the future," she said around yet another mouthful of cereal. "That's not how it works."

Sirius sighed and put down the paper he'd only been halfheartedly scanning. "I know it's hard, being stuck here," he began carefully. Her eyes narrowed and her chewing slowed. "I'm frustrated too. Tensions are running high. But focus on the good. Sometimes, especially in times such as these, perspective is the greatest weapon we have."

Winona pursed her lips. "Okay," she said sardonically. "I'll go fetch a knife, and you fight back with your perspective."

"Winona," her dad said, patient and sincere. The fight drained out of her. He was right. Being stuck in this place was getting to her head. She was beginning to feel more than stir-crazy. She was beginning to feel downright insane.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, reluctantly putting the cereal box on the table and climbing to her feet. "I'll go get changed," she relented. Sirius smiled gratefully, and with a popping noise she Disapparated.

Apparating into her bedroom, she reluctantly changed into some jeans and one of Fred's Puddlemere United teeshirts, just because she knew she'd need the extra comfort. She made her way into the bathroom, running a brush through her hair and scrubbing at her teeth. Then she sprayed on a little of the perfume she'd gotten from the girls for her last birthday and Apparated back down to the kitchen where, to her surprise, people had already begun to arrive.

Hestia, Tonks and Kingsley were there, and judging by the stench of tobacco smoke, Mundungus was somewhere nearby; probably looking for something of the Blacks' he could fence down in Knockturn Alley for a few extra Galleons.

"Wotcher, Winnie," said Tonks cheerfully, holding up a cup of takeaway coffee she'd brought with her in a sort of salute. "You all right?"

Winona shrugged. "Been a long few days."

She took her seat beside Sirius, seeing he'd finished his scan of the Daily Prophet and plucking it off the table. She didn't read it very often, mostly because they trashed Harry so frequently that for awhile there she'd begun to burn copies in retaliation. But sometimes it was good for her to scan the front page at the very least. Just to get an idea about what was going on outside this blasted house.

Tonks and Kingsley carried on an easy conversation about work, while Hestia attempted to make awkward chatter with Sirius. The familiar sound of uneven footsteps on the stairs met her ears just as Winona reached the end of a boring article on the dwindling access to phoenix feathers as a potion ingredient, and she looked up to see Moody limping into the room, followed closely by a scowling Snape.

Winona desperately wanted to make a snide comment – sometimes she felt emboldened by her position in the Order, as if being part of it put her on the same level as all these older, accomplished witches and wizards – but she had to remind herself that Snape was still her teacher for one more year. She couldn't talk shit to his face; not yet. It was more trouble than it was worth.

"Heard Julian Lyons was arrested on suspicion of harbouring a fugitive," grunted Moody as he made a stilted loop around the small basement, then came to rest in the far corner, where he could see everything in the room and best defend himself should something go awry. "Word is it's you, Black."

"Never took you as one for gossip, Moody," drawled Sirius, lifting his mug of coffee to his lips and taking a deep sip.

"It's intel," snapped Moody, his one good eye flashing with irritation.

"It's gossip," argued Tonks, rocking lazily in her chair. "Sirius obviously isn't skulking about in Lyons' basement, hiding from Aurors, now, is he? Thus, gossip."

Moody peeled his lips back in a sneer but otherwise didn't comment.

Diggle and Doge appeared, followed closely by Remus, and then a self-satisfied Mundungus, his pockets jangling a little as he moved. Winona looked to her father, wondering if he was going to do anything about it.

"Let him take it," he said in an undertone, for her ears only. "There's not a thing in this house I want to keep; except you and Harry."

The admission made her cheeks oddly warm, and she sent him a tiny, shy smile. Mr Weasley arrived, looking a little out of breath. He'd had to be in at work early that morning, and was only now making it back for the meeting. Bill arrived too, shooting an apologetic look at them all as he took a seat at the table and settled into easy conversation with Diggle.

Finally, with everyone now in attendance, Dumbledore arrived, a severe-looking McGonagall in tow. Winona met her Head of House's eyes, sending her a small smile in greeting that was returned.

The Headmaster began the meeting with no fuss, simply waiting for Kingsley to shut and spell the door locked before turning to Hestia for her report.

Winona picked up her bag, fishing out her sketchbook and a stray pencil, beginning to lazily sketch across the page as she halfheartedly listened to the reports happening around her. It wasn't until they came to Snape that anything interesting came to light.

"The Dark Lord is now more aware than ever of the young Miss Black and her…abilities," Snape said in that sneering, slimy voice of his, disdain coating her name as he said it. Winona started, looking up from her rough sketch of Buckbeak wearing a top hat, blinking at the table in surprise.

Dumbledore stared at the Potions professor, eyes narrowed and shrewd, and without prompting, Snape pressed on.

"With the way she's been thwarting his plans over these last few weeks, he's become more determined than ever to have her for himself. The price on her head has more than tripled."

There were a few gasps around the table, but Winona kept calm, staring at Snape without blinking. "Really?" she asked casually. "Cool."

"No, Winona," said McGonagall sharply. "Not 'cool'. You mustn't be so cavalier. This is a very serious – and dangerous – increase in your value to You-Know-Who and his followers."

"I don't see how it matters," Winona argued, although not as petulantly as should would have with Snape. The difference was, Winona actually respected McGonagall. Snape, on the other hand… "S'not like I'm leaving the house any time soon, and nobody can get to me here. Except Dung, but I don't think even he's stupid enough to cross me like that."

Mundungus went pale at the insinuation and shot her a glare. She responded with a smile sugary enough to give them all cavities.

"Except you will be leaving the house," said Doge suddenly, looking about as pale as Mundungus, although she wasn't sure why. At her look of confusion, he pressed on. "Tomorrow? Potter's hearing?"

The room fell quiet and the silence felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. "Well, yeah, but nobody's gonna attack me at the Ministry, are they?" she asked with a laugh that was more nervous than anything else.

Nobody else so much as chuckled, many turning to look anxiously at Dumbledore, whose hands were steepled on the table in front of him, icy eyes distant and thoughtful. "The Ministry isn't as safe as it once was," he said enigmatically, and the words themselves sent a terrible shiver down the length of Winona's spine.

"Maybe not," Winona allowed. "But I'm going to be in a room with the Minister himself. Not even the most confident of Death Eater would make an appearance before the Wizengamot just to snatch me away, right? Right?" she squeaked shrilly when nobody answered her.

"She can't go," said Hestia suddenly, and Winona whirled around on her with betrayal in her eyes that only grew as others cast in their agreement. Soon enough the majority of the table was calling out their accordance.

"It's too high a risk, Dumbledore!"

"She's much too valuable – the Ministry cannot be trusted! Not now!"

"What about on the way to the hearing? There'd be ample opportunity to snatch her in the streets!"

"Constant vigilance, Albus! Does it mean nothing to you anymore?"

"Silence," said Dumbledore, so calm it was almost more terrifying than a shout. The sea of grown witches and wizards fell silent as obediently as any student from school. Dumbledore took a moment, letting the silence drift, eyes shrewd as he stared them down. When he finally spoke, his voice was grim. "Miss Black will be attending Harry's hearing, even despite this new threat."

There was a small uproar from the gathered members of the Order, but Dumbledore silenced them again by simply raising a hand in command.

"The plan must go ahead as intended," he said evenly, seeming hardly as concerned as everyone thought he should be. "Winona will be in Arthur's perfectly capable hands, and as an added measure of protection, those of you with access to the Ministry will be stationed along their path. Once they reach the Wizengamot, I will be there to take over the protective detail."

The Order didn't cry out so much as mutter amongst themselves, considering the new and improved plan of action. Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Winona, who had long since given up trying to sketch, staring back at him intently.

"But Dumbledore," said Moody, "the risk-"

"Is well worth it," Dumbledore finished without missing a beat, and Winona looked away, wondering if that was true. Whatever Dumbledore's plan was, was it worth her life?

"And I'll be with them, too," Sirius spoke up, looking at Dumbledore defiantly.

Dumbledore didn't so much as blink, looking back at Sirius calmly. "I've decided it's best you don't accompany them to the Ministry, Sirius," he said firmly. "Even in your Animagus form, the risk of somebody recognising you is far too high."

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, fire flickering in his eyes, but Dumbledore held out a hand to silence him.

"I've made my decision, Sirius," he repeated himself, blue eyes hard, like steel. "I won't be changing my mind."

Sirius shut his mouth so hard they all heard his teeth clack together. Winona glared at Dumbledore, but she might as well have been washing a car in the rain. It didn't matter. Dumbledore didn't care about their feelings. All he cared about was the greater good; it was all that mattered.

And in the Order, his word was law.

"If that's all we have on the agenda today," Dumbledore continued, unbothered by the weight of their resentful stares, "I have business to attend to."

With that he stood and the meeting was brought to a close. The room broke out in conversation, and Dumbledore walked through the doorway without looking back at any of them. Winona frowned at his retreating figure, then turned to look at her dad, who was scowling at the table like it had wronged him.

She wanted to say something – but what could she say? She couldn't make it so he could come with them to the Ministry. There were no words that could make him feel better about being stuck in this godforsaken house while his kids were out amongst the wolves at the Ministry.

She reached out, wrapping her smaller hand around his. He looked up at her in surprise, stormy grey meeting stormy grey, and Winona smiled softly, trying to tell him she was sorry it had to be this way, and that she understood it wasn't an easy thing, to be the one left behind.

He squeezed her hand in reply, and they looked over as one when people began to call out their goodbyes as they made their way to the door, preparing to leave.

Despite the shadow the Order meeting had cast over her day, dinner was an easy affair. Everybody chattered over their chops and gravy, and Winona sat between the twins,finding her laughter sincere as they teased Ron for something stupid he'd said earlier in the day.

The ease of the night, however, vanished completely when Mrs Weasley leant towards Harry and told him, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders."

The table went uncomfortably silent, everyone turning to stare openly at Harry, who suddenly looked like he wished he were anywhere else. Winona wanted to quip that she didn't particularly think the Ministry was going to go easy on Harry just because he'd washed his hair, but she got the feeling nobody would appreciate it.

"How am I getting there?" her cousin asked, doing his best to sound unconcerned, like he wasn't strung out with nerves. But Winona could tell; she could see it in his emerald eyes.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him," Mrs Weasley told him gently.

Mr Weasley smiled warmly. "You and Winona can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing," he told him quietly. Almost as if he'd forgotten she would be joining him, Harry's eyes darted to Winona, who met his stare with an encouraging smile.

He looked a tiny bit relieved, and she felt an answering happiness in her gut that shrivelled and died when Harry turned to look hopefully at Sirius.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you," Mrs Weasley said briskly, "and I must say I-"

"–think he's quite right," finished Sirius, voice hard and cold, the words said through gritted teeth.

Harry frowned. "When did Dumbledore tell you that?"

"He was here this afternoon," Mr Weasley informed him. "For the Order meeting."

Harry opened his mouth, and Winona could tell it was to argue that Sirius should be allowed to come with them, but he met her eyes before he could get a word out and she gently shook her head. Harry's shoulders slumped and he went back to morosely carving into his chops, the weight of the world resting upon on his scrawny shoulders.

"Saw Mundungus in the hallway when he was leaving the meeting," Fred told her as the room slowly began to fill with chatter once more. She knew he was just distracting her, and like always, she was inclined to let him. "He tried to sell us a pint of Horklump juice for cheap."

"Tell me you didn't," she begged him.

"You kidding?" scoffed George. "One sniff and I knew it had been diluted to the point of uselessness. It was a good effort though; he had a sales pitch and everything."

"That rat bastard's going to get himself Hexed one day soon," she sighed. "And I'm not going to do a damn thing to stop it."

They all went to bed early that night, mostly at Mrs Weasley's insistence. "Harry and Winona have to be up early," she tutted without looking at them. "And the rest of you will be tackling the main bedroom once you wake up. Best get all the rest you can."

Winona waved goodnight to Sirius, brought Harry in for a fleeting side-hug, then kissed Fred's cheek before climbing the stairs to her room on the top floor.

She realised rather suddenly that it was too quiet. That the reality of the coming day weighed on her, seeming to fill the silence with a pitchy ringing and the pounding of her own heart. What if the Order members were right? What if someone did try to snatch her from the Ministry? What if they found some way to incriminate her in a crime, just so they could manipulate her just as they were Harry? The possibilities swam round and round in her head, until she began to feel dizzy.

She pulled out her sketchbook, opening to a blank page and beginning to sketch Hogwarts' castle from memory, just for something to focus her mind on.

The clock in the corner ticked on, the hour growing later and later, and still she sketched. She couldn't even fathom trying to sleep now – how could she, when she knew the risks of the coming day? It was nearing midnight when she heard the telltale creaking outside her door. For a moment she thought it might be Harry – because she was sure he was getting just about as much rest as she was, and could probably use someone to talk to – but when her door quietly opened, it was instead a familiar head of fiery red hair that poked into the room.

"Still awake, then?" Fred whispered, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"No, I'm sleep-sketching," she deadpanned even as she put her sketchbook aside and shuffled over in bed to give him room to lay down.

He was dressed in novelty boxers and a Puddlemere United teeshirt that had definitely seen better days. Winona lifted her covers and he slid underneath them. The moment he laid down, Winona curled around him like an octopus, threading their legs together and resting her head over his heart.

His arm wrapped around her, his fingertips gently trailing up and down the length of her side, and she took what felt like the first deep breath she'd had all day.

"What's got you so rattled?" he wondered, and she clung to him a little tighter, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. "Is it the trial? You're worried Harry won't win?"

"Harry will win," she said without so much as a shred of uncertainty. "It's just – well," she stopped abruptly. She'd been about to tell him what had happened in the Order meeting, but remembered her Vow to Dumbledore with a grimace. "I don't think I can tell you," she whispered, breathing in his scent.

How was it he always smelled like gunpowder? It was like he rubbed it into his skin every night before bed. And it shouldn't have been attractive as she'd always found it to be.

"The Vow?" Fred asked knowingly. She nodded against his sternum. Fred sighed, hand trailing up to her head, his fingers tangling in her loose ivory hair. "Do you ever wish you hadn't agreed? That you hadn't made the Vow with Dumbledore?"

Winona traced shapes into the front of Fred's teeshirt. "Sometimes," she confessed. "It would be easier that way…to be like all of you, and not know everything. But I know I can't just bury my head in the sand. If only for Harry's sake. He needs someone in those meetings to be on his team."

"Isn't Sirius, though?"

This time it was Winona who sighed. "Yeah – and he loves Harry, he really does – but he doesn't know him. Not yet. Not like I do."

Fred was silent a moment, fingers still carding gently through her hair. "You don't trust anybody to watch over him like you can," he finally said, soft but resonating with truth.

Winona nuzzled into his chest. "Yeah."

They fell into an easy silence, and Winona couldn't deny she was beginning to feel the tendrils of exhaustion pulling at her, trying to drag her down into the realm of sleep. "You need sleep," said Fred, as if reading her mind.

"Probably."

Fred laughed. "Come on," he said, reaching for her wand where it lay on the headboard of her bed. With a flick of his wrist, the light turned off, plunging them into darkness. He put her wand back where it belonged, wrapping himself around her tightly. "Sleep."

"Don't wanna," she complained even as her eyes drifted shut and her body began to grow heavy.

Fred chuckled, and she felt his warm breath at the crown of her head. "Sleep, Win."

"Okay," she sighed dopily. "Just for you."

As she drifted off into the realm of dreams, it was to the feeling of Fred's fingertips trailing their way over her side, innocent and relaxing. And she knew that although the coming day was fraught with danger, she was safe in the here and now, in Fred's arms.

A/N: Hi guys, how've you been going? I know it's been awhile since you last heard from me. I've been very, very busy with things in the real world, but rest assured, I haven't forgotten this story or any of you.

While I hope you all enjoyed this update, I think I should warn you that I'm still not planning to go back to a weekly update schedule any time soon. Things are crazy for me at the moment, and I have a lot of other projects that I'm busy putting time and energy into. At this point you can expect roughly one upload a month, unless something magical happens and I get some free time to work/write/edit.

I want to thank each and every one of you for your support and understanding. You're seriously the best readers ever, and I'm always so glad to hear from you and share our love for this series (although there are some very problematic things happening around its author these days, but if you want my opinions on that particular subject, I'd rather it be done in private).

And for those of you hanging out – the trial is the next chapter coming – I promise.