Chapter Four

"Do you feel well enough to come downstairs?" Harry asked, concern evident on his face and in his voice. "Maybe you should stay in bed …"

"Oh, I'm fine, really," Amaryllis said, blushing slightly. "Don't worry about me, I'm quite – quite hardy." Harry and Ron seemed to glance at her thin arms and then share a look. "I am here, you know. You haven't got to act as though I'm a child, I'm nearly seventeen … probably. And I might be skinny, but I'm strong, I am."

Ron sighed. "All right, look, I'll get you one of Ginny's dresses. Just calm down." He crossed to a door on the other side of the room, which appeared to lead to a small cupboard, opened it, and rummaged around, finally coming out with a worn blue dress. "This should fit you, I think."

"Ginny won't thank you for going through her things," Harry advised, smiling slightly.

"She can take it as payback for reading Hermione's letter, then, can't she?" Ron replied, his ears turning red. "Out loud." He handed the dress to Amaryllis.

"We'll just go out and wait for you to dress, then," said Harry, and the two boys walked out, pulling the door closed behind them. Amaryllis pulled off the covers once more and tested her weight – her legs held her, and she wasn't surprised: she'd only been hit once, after all, and she had been eating properly lately. Well. Properly for what she was used to.

She pulled on the dress and buttoned up the front, wishing that there were a mirror in the room so that she could make sure she didn't look ill. The dress was made out of cotton, but printed in a sort of denim pattern, with a row of white buttons proceeding up past the high waist to the shirt collar. She then wondered about where her shoes were, but after a few moments of looking around she located them just under the bed, and she sat down to tie them. At last, she went to the door and stepped out.

"I couldn't brush my hair," she said apologetically. "I didn't see a comb out, and I didn't want to go through the trunk, and it really needs washing, so I'm just sorry."

The boys exchanged a more surprised look this time. "Sorry about what?" Harry asked.

She stared at him. "Well, you have to look at it, don't you?"

Ron grinned. "Just sit next to Harry and no-one will notice," he assured her.

----

Amaryllis tried not to stare at the house as they proceeded downstairs to the kitchen, but it was so difficult: everything was so lived-in and soft, so utterly unlike her life up until that point. There were knitted pillows on the sofa, and carpets, and books, and all sorts of little things that added up to form a whole that spoke of kindness and warmth and a home.

Mrs. Weasley was standing at the counter, where she was preparing a tray full of sandwiches. "Ron, come take these out to the garden, we'll be eating out there," she ordered without turning around.

"She woke up, Mum," Ron announced, and his mother spun around.

"Oh, my dear, are you sure you feel well enough to be out of bed?" she asked, bustling over and turning Amaryllis's face gently by the chin. "You've got quite a nasty bruise coming along – just come over here and let's take care of that." She went over to a cupboard and took out a jar, which she opened. It was full of some sort of paste, which felt wonderfully cooling on the bruise on Amaryllis's temple as she dabbed it on. "There we are, it's shrinking," Mrs. Weasley said with satisfaction. "Ron, get that plate. Harry, if you could take those napkins? There's a dear boy. Now, dear," she said, steering Amaryllis to the door that the two boys were rapidly disappearing from, "I've just realized that we don't have any idea who you are!"

"I – my name's Amaryllis, ma'am," she said, "Amaryllis Black. But, please, you really shouldn't have done all of this for me, I'd have been all right, really, I would have. If I get knocked out he usually stops quicker. And I really don't want to be any trouble to you –"

Mrs. Weasley hushed her in the middle of her sentence. "You're no trouble at all, dear. But why don't you get a little something in you before we talk about this any more?" She held the door open for Amaryllis, and though she stopped talking Amaryllis could sense that the woman had caught the next-to-last sentence and was going to bring it up later.

As much as Amaryllis didn't want to impose on this family, she had to admit to herself that, watching them laugh together and relax in the garden, she wanted more than anything to feel that she belonged there.

I'm very sorry for not updating last week: I've been doing a couple of projects and time is sadly limited. I'll try to get going replying to your reviews … at some point in time. Re: two page chapters – one reason is that, well, that's what I have time for (though I do try to give you more quality than quantity); the other is because I think the original penny dreadfuls were rather short.