Chapter Three
The Fairy Prince
–
We choose those we like;
with those we love,
we have no say in the matter.
–
Have you ever experienced that one moment – that one crystallizing moment where everything just made complete and utter sense? You know, when it feels as if all the chaos turns to calm and everything just falls perfectly into place? I hadn't until I saw George Weasley, standing before me and looking like a drowned, stinking rat from the recent rainstorm wearing a smile that stole the breath from my lungs. I slowly strode forward, using the dim moonlight seeping through the storm clouds as our solitary light source. He removed his jacket and held it for me to accept upon my shoulders. He rubbed my arms to warm my skin that did no good because the jacket was sopping wet just like him – I didn't complain, however.
"Have you ever heard the story about Cinderella?" George grinned, beaming down at me after releasing my upper arms. Several large raindrops fell from his bangs and onto my chest.
"Yes, I believe we have agreed that I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight," I smirked, pushing a dripping strand of red hair behind his ear. "However, I am rather fuzzy on the schematics, so refresh my memory."
"Well, Cinderella was forced into servitude by her evil stepmother and stepsisters," he started, his smile growing wider after each syllable. "She had to cook and clean all day and wasn't even allowed to attend the annual ball at the Prince's castle. She wished to be happy and one night her fairy godmother showed up to grant her wish. Cinderella's fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage and her little rodent friends into her coachmen. She got all fancied up in a proper gown and even a pair of glass slippers. At the stroke of midnight the spell would be broken and Cinderella would go back to her normal mess of a self. Well, at the ball she met the handsome prince. He fell in love with Cinderella at first sight, but midnight came too soon. Cinderella had to run off, leaving behind a lonely glass slipper and a feeling of longing for the prince. Then the prince took that glass slipper and traveled all across the kingdom until he found Cinderella and rescued her from her horrible stepmother and stepsisters."
"And did they live happily ever after?"
"Nauseatingly happy," George smirked. He knelt down and unlaced one of the new trainers in his hand. He gently took my foot and helped me slide my barefoot into the shoe. It fit perfectly. He laced it and stood back up, leaving me to admire my new Chucks. I propped my leg up so my foot was arched on my toe then looked up into George's eyes again.
"Does this make you my fairy godmother or the handsome prince?" I simpered.
"You know, your ability to ruin heartfelt moments is astounding," he smiled,
"I'm only joking," I teased, pinching his cheek. "I know you're my fairy prince."
"You're so–"
"Thank you, Georgie," I said softly, placing my hand on his cheek. He knew I was being sincere because he swallowed his words.
"You're welcome," he replied.
"But what are you doing here?" I asked. "I wasn't supposed to be back to Number Twelve until late."
"Well, you don't have to be a Seer to predict this night was going to end in disaster," he smirked, "and I wanted to come here and ask you something."
"And what is that?"
"Would you, Winnie McKinnon, like to go on a proper date with yours truly?" he asked. George dramatically flaunted his hand like a French waiter and held out his hand for me to accept. I merely stared at flattened, open palm with wide eyes.
I knew things were going to change between George and me after I stepped out of that door into the night air, but I didn't expect things to change so quickly. I wanted them to, don't get me wrong. I had yearned for a relationship with George for a long time, whether I was willing to admit it back then or not. He and I – we – had something that was undeniable, indescribable, something magnetic that was constantly pulling us together. We spent a long time trying to fight that attraction, we put up a good fight, but we lost and neither of us objected to the turnout. In the beginning, we were separated by immaturity and denial then by my relationship with Oliver and George's relationship with Alicia. Now, however, there was nothing standing between George and I but air and a fear of the unknown. Don't get me wrong, this fear was everything but frightening. This fear was exciting and electric, and it was intoxicating.
I think what was keeping me from shouting my joy from the top of my lungs that George had asked me such a question was the same fear that caused my heart to race and my lips to tremble. The two of us were young and begrudgingly naïve to what an adult relationship really entailed. We had all the ingredients to brew a healthy and happy young couple, but George and I were also dreadful at Potions. The two of us had been concentrating so much on the present that we forgot about the future. We were so concerned about the right now, with finally being together that neither of us realized what exactly that meant. If we started a real relationship then we would have to hide it for as long as we could from Molly and Arthur. Molly would try and separate us at all costs for fear that we would procreate or something equally obscene. This would also potentially cause our friends to be unnerved due to the outcome of George and Alicia's mess of a relationship not long before that caused a rift in our close knit group of friends. None of that seemed to bother me enough to prevent me from taking his hand. I did, however, want George to be just as aware of the consequences we would face before he wanted me to accept.
"Your silence is not exactly the response I was hoping for," he said, awkwardly retreating his hand into his jean pocket.
"Before I take your hand, I want you to be sure this is what you want," I said slowly. "I want you to realize what this means. I mean, we are about to leap into the unknown here. We might face some real obstacles, so I want you to be certain that you want this – that you want me and you want us."
George looked relieved, as if I had lifted a two ton weight off of his shoulders. He took a small step forward to erase what little space remained between us. He peered directly down into my eyes with a thoughtful expression.
"Freddie, I have only been completely certain about three things in my life," he grinned. "The first is that Frederick Gideon Weasley is my identical twin brother and best mate, and I am the better looking twin no matter how slightly. The second being that Minerva McGonagall has a second set of eyeballs hidden beneath the hair on the back her head, and the third is that I, George Weasley, would like nothing more than to take you, Winnie McKinnon, on a date tonight."
"What a coincidence," I smiled, "I too have been completely certain of three things in my entire life. The first is that seagulls are rodents that have grown wings, and the second being that Frederick Gideon Weasley is the most handsome of the entire Weasley clan."
"And the third?"
"Thirdly is that I, Winifred Rose McKinnon, would like nothing more than to kiss you, George Weasley, at this very moment," I whispered.
"Alright, I am completely certain of four things–"
Before he could finish his sentence, my lips thrashed upon his to swallow his words. He did not oppose to my silencing tactic. Instead, he melted into my kiss, gripping my wild mane of hair tightly between his fingers. A bright flash broke out which we deducted had to be lightening. After a few moments more George and I apparated at his command, appearing seconds later still lip locked in the middle of Diagon Alley. We finally separated; the empty streets welcomed us as if the barren cobblestone beckoned us to start anew.
"You know, I was never an advocate for kissing on the first date," George teased, "but you've convinced me otherwise."
"I am very persuasive," I smirked, playing coyly with George's collar. I then looked around to see where we really were.
We stood before Lady Hilda's Hideaway. I can remember Molly and Arthur taking us to eat at this very spot on our first trip to Diagon Alley before our first year. We got to order whatever we liked which was rare because we grew up on a budget that typically didn't allow for luxury which included eating out. I'll never forget that day for some reason. I don't know if it was because I was secretly anxious about my first trip to Hogwarts or the pumpkin cake dessert that seemed to calm my nervous. I loved that day, and I will always remember that feeling.
I suppose it wasn't Lady Hilda's Hideaway anymore though. It looked rather disheveled now as it had closed 5 years prior. There were boards on all the windows, an old sign dangling by a rusted chain and bricks weathered to near dust. It was no less charming, however. The building appeared to almost sway in the wind, it's tall stature seemed flexible but sturdy – its foundation concreted with memories. A "SOLD" sign hung in the window, no telling how long the sign had hung there or how reliable it truly was.
"I may be a cheap date, George, but give me some credit," I joked, still staring up at the daunting structure.
I felt George take my hand and turned to look up at him. However, George was not towering over me as he usually did, he was holding my hand and down on one knee with a small box identical to Oliver's in his hand.
"Oh, shite, not again," I muttered, my eyes as wide as saucers.
"Winnie McKinnon," he began, looking deep into my eyes. "We've been mates all our lives. You have been by my side through the good times on the bad. You have kept me sane when I was losing my marbles and drove insane when I was far too normal for comfort. You're brilliant and witty and smarter than I would like to admit. I don't know what I would do without you, and for that reason I want to ask you one simple question."
"George, please don't do this–"
"Would you be my business partner?" he smiled, popping open the box that displayed an old skeleton key.
"Oh, thank Merlin," I breathed, smiling and nodding. "Of course I will, you knobhead."
George placed the key in my hand, discarded the box and hugged me tight.
"What did you think I was going to ask you?" asked George, grinning like a lunatic.
"I thought you were going to ask me to marry you," I smirked and George nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter.
"We're seventeen, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he chuckled. "No offense, Freddie, but that is barmy."
I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him to end his laughter. I was just where I needed to be and it felt good. George led me to the front door, so I could use my key to unlock the ancient knob. The inside was cluttered with cobwebs, splintered beams and several sets of tiny glowing eyes belonging to small critters.
"Fred found the place a while back, but we never told you because we didn't think much of it then," he explained, lighting the tip of his want and then illuminating several candles placed around the front lobby. "I figured we should stop playing it safe and start following our dream. I talked to Fred after you left, we got a hold of the owner and here we are. What do you think?"
"I think the foundation is crumbling, the layout is questionable, the structure is faulty and there are probably more cockroaches than we'll ever have future customers," I said as George's smile fell. "And I bloody well love it."
George chuckled and ruffled my hair playfully, kissing my forehead and several strands of hair by his own doing. There was a dim glow coming from the front room that I hadn't noticed before. I sidestepped George and my stomach lurched.
"I think we might have some defective wiring, Georgie," I said anxiously. "Is that a fire?"
"Well, luckily I've got some firewood!" George laughed, swooping me up into a bridal hold and striding towards the glow. "Let's have ourselves a Winnie roast! Get it, Freddie, like a wienie roast but with Winnie?"
"George, what is that we always say?"
"There's no such thing as funny joke if it requires an explanation," said George, sighing heavily as we reached the main entryway.
The room was aglow thanks to dozens of floating candles, illuminating the mahogany floors and fixtures. A filthy old blanket was laid on the floor, a plate of treats from Gambol and Japes in the middle. A bottle of Butterbeer with two cups cluttered the center of the blanket as well, a shirt had clearly cleaned the rims of the glasses instead of soap and water. I didn't mind because the array set before me was more perfect and pristine than the golden pillars and shining place settings I had been privy to earlier with Oliver.
"What's all this then?" I asked, slowly freeing myself back onto my own two feet. I was rather mesmerized by it all. The rain struck the front window, singing a natural melody as I walked forward, extending my fingertips to touch a beautiful floating candle.
"It was sort of Charlie's idea–"
"Charlie?" I interrupted, turning suddenly back around to face him with a confused expression. "Is he going to be joining us then?
"Will you just sit down, for Merlin's sake?" George sighed, "You just have to bloody ruin every sentimental moment with a joke, don't you?"
"Well, if that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black," I smirked. As a peace offering, I grabbed his collar, sent him a cheeky grin and pulled him gently down beside me upon the blanket. He laughed and leaned in to kiss me.
"Charlie helped me get out of the house undetected, Fred too of course," George explained, "Charlie also gave me the push to... you know, go after you."
"Charlie always was my favorite Weasley," I replied, winking at him in jest as I bit in to a licorice wand. "Well, after Ginny, and Fred, and Ron, and Bill, and Arthur, and Molly. Am I forgetting anyone?"
"Just Percy," George smirked.
"How could anyone forget to remember Percy?"
We chatted for quite awhile before accidentally falling asleep just 2 glasses into our bottle of Butterbeer. The storm outside roared on, the soothing crack of thunder was inescapable even in my unconscious. My head rested on George's upper abdomen, his chest rising and falling was almost like a lullaby. Another loud crack of thunder rang out again, loud enough for me to stir. I blinked a couple times, peering up at George who was still sound asleep. It was still dark outside, but I could tell morning was not far away despite the storm clouds battling the sun's rays. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, careful to not wake George just yet. I cracked my neck and rubbed my eyes, yawning away my sleep. The ripped curtains blew slightly from the draftiness of the windowsill. I suddenly saw something moving outside in the darkness, someone moving. I slowly stood up, rubbing the back of my sore neck and quietly crept towards the portion of the cracked window that wasn't covered by the ugly, ancient maroon curtains. Another earsplitting thunderclap shook the earth. I glanced up at the small portion of the window that had only been blackness a moment ago but I saw a face. It wasn't just any face. It was the face. The face that had haunted my being, the face that stole the lives of so many I cared for, the face that tried to kill me. It was Travers – alive in the flesh. He wore the same twisted grin, wiry hair and holey old hat atop his head. He waved at me by bending his index finger, winking at me in the same horrifying manner he had on the night he killed my family. Not a second later, he was gone and the blackness returned.
I covered my mouth and released a bloodcurdling scream that instantly shot George up from his slumber. I fell backwards, pushing myself on my backside until I struck the old splintered counter behind me. I curled up into a ball, burying my face between my knees and rocking back and forth like a child. I was shaking uncontrollably, stiff as a board as I gripped my mop of hair so tightly that I can hardly fathom how I didn't rip all of it from my scalp.
"Winnie?" George pleaded, gripping my upper arms and trying frantically to have me look at him. "Winnie, what's wrong?!"
"It was him," I muttered, teeth chattering. "He was here. He saw us."
"Who?" asked George, trying to pull me against him to no avail. "Who saw us?"
"Travers," I said, finally jerking my head up to meet his eyes. "I saw him – through the window – he was here."
"Winnie, Travers is in Azkaban," said George slowly, tenderly cupping my face in his hands. "You're safe. It was probably just a nightmare."
"No, I saw him," I pleaded, shaking my head and pointing to the window. "He was right there."
George stood up and pulled his wand from the back of his pants. I knew he was only doing what he was doing for my sake. I knew he didn't really believe I saw a crazed murderer outside. He gripped his wand and approached the window as I quickly crawled to my feet to stop him, afraid Travers was still outside. George pulled back the thick curtain, revealing nothing but the storm growing outside. I sprinted towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I buried my face in his chest as if to protect him from the danger outside.
"See? Nothing to be–" said George, stopping mid-sentence. His jaw dropped, and I felt his frame begin to tremble. "Winnie, we need to go. Now."
I slowly turned my head off of George's chest to look at the small window portion where I had just seen the face of Travers. His presence did not remain. No, but something almost as chilling stayed behind. Travers had drawn a heart on the windowpane from the condensation. The heart had an "X" marked through it. I reached my hand out and touched the glass and my fingers made no indention because the marks had been made from the outside. George held me tight against him, now trembling as I was as his skin turned as white as snow. He flicked his wand to extinguish the candles then instantly apparated a block from the Number Twelve.
–
"He's going to come after me," I said with certainty, clutching George's arm as we gathered our bearings. I said it without emotion because I knew it was true. He would kill me. It would happen and it was just a matter of when.
"Hey," said George, suddenly stepping forward and holding me still in front of him. "We don't know for sure what happened back there. Alright? You know more than anyone how scary and unpredictable your visions can be."
"Yeah, but I usually know when I am having one," I said, "and my visions don't typically have the ability to write."
"But Travers is still rotting away in Azkaban," said George, "and you had that weird experience before with Fabian's watch popping up, right?"
"But–"
"I know you're scared right now, and I don't blame you," he said calmly. "I got a bit skittish there for a minute myself, but we can't go jumping to any wildly unlikely conclusions."
"I know what I saw, George," I frowned.
"All I'm saying is that no one besides Sirius has ever managed to escape Azkaban alive and his face was plastered on every wall in Europe," said George, turning to lead us back to Number Twelve. "We would know if Travers was loose."
He was right.
"I suppose," I sighed, loosing my grip on his arm only slightly as the door appeared before us. The sun's quiet rays were only slightly beginning to fight the black sky to turn it a deep violet.
We slid off our trainers and tip-toed through the front door, cringing as it creaked ever so slightly behind us. I giggled quietly, meeting George's humored gaze, pulling myself playfully against his arm again. Every wooden floor board seemed to tease us, taunting us with the possibility of waking the household. The staircase beside the dining room was the finish line and we had won our race, beaten the others to the chase. We each heaved a heavy sigh of relief as our feet met the base of the steps. My eyes met with George's ever so briefly before hearing an all too familiar sound of throat being cleared coming from behind us. George and I instantly released each others hands and took a step away from each other, turning swiftly around.
"Shite," I breathed.
Everyone calling the Number Twelve their temporary home was sitting uneasily at the dining room table, most looking exhausted as if they'd been woken in the middle of the night without the option of returning to sleep. There was only dry toast on the table for breakfast and no one spoke. Molly stood at the helm, extending her arm towards us in order to reveal the paper in her hand. It was a copy of Witch Weekly and not only were Oliver and myself on the cover but George as well. The title read "Oliver Wood, a Night of Wins and Losses." There was a photograph of Oliver holding open the ring box and myself looking surprised, another of him accepting his award on stage and finally the largest picture of George and I kissing outside of the building. I quickly realized the flash of lightening that had startled us outside the night before was certainly a sneaky photographer out for a story. I'd never seen Molly look so crazed.
"Care to explain yourselves?" she seethed.
I looked and George and he looked at me, both of us initially speechless. I opened my mouth but no words came at first, the same with him.
"It's not what it looks–" he began, pausing for a moment and looking utterly mournful at the idea of covering up our newly forming relationship.
"Oh, piss it," I sighed, reaching over and taking George's hand. "It's exactly what it looks like."
Charlie and Bill erupted in a fit of laughter, slapping each other on the back. Hermione and Ginny released identical half-giggle half-squeals while Sirius and Fred exchanged mutual expressions of contentment. Harry and Ron appeared too shocked to speak. George wrapped his arm around my waist and held me proudly against him, sticking his chest out as if to express his unwillingness to back down. Molly swiftly turned about, slamming the paper down on the dining room table and pointed at Arthur.
"I told you we should have never bathed them together!" she shouted hysterically.
"Mum, you can't base Freddie and George's relationship off of baths we took together as toddlers," said Fred, sporting a cheeky grin and leaning back slyly in his chair beside Sirius. "The ones we took as teenagers... well, you might have something there."
"Fred – your room – now," said Molly, too enraged to properly form a sentence.
"Come on, Mum, I wasn't the one snogging Winnie. Wait, or was I?" Fred picked up the newspaper, pretending to examine the front page image very carefully before setting it down again. "Nope, false alarm. It was George."
"Now is not the time for jokes, son," said Arthur, patting Fred affectionately on the back to motion for him to take to his feet.
"As I've said before," said Fred, side stepping the firmly planted Molly. "It's always the times when humor is the least welcomed that it is the most necessary."
"Go – now," she snapped, pointing at the staircase.
"Good luck, mates," said Fred, winking at both of us before striding up the steps two-at-a-time.
"The same goes for the rest of you – GO," said Molly, keeping her eyes square on the two of us though her words were meant for all those behind her.
Everyone but Sirius and Arthur disassembled and retreated to their respected bedrooms, all too afraid of an angry Molly Weasley.
"Sirius, you are not exempt," she hissed. "Leave Arthur and I alone with them."
"And miss baring witness to a double homicide – never," said Sirius, all too amused. "I missed thirteen of my own murders, and I do not intend to miss another opportunity like that again."
"Molly, let him stay," I said, instantly biting my own tongue after receiving a nasty look from Molly in return.
"Dear, perhaps it would be beneficial to have an unbiased third party when discussing the... situation we are currently dealing with," said Arthur sheepishly.
Molly did not move or breathe for what felt like an eternity before finally sending her husband a single curt nod over her shoulder. Molly grabbed the folded newspaper and and twisted it wickedly between her fists as she paced back and forth before the two of us. George's grip on my hand seemed to tighten as well.
"Mum, let us explain–"
"How long has this been going on exactly?" she asked.
"That's quite the complicated question," I shrugged. "Do you mean how long have we been... together or how long we've had... feelings?"
"How long you've had these feelings," she replied.
"Well–" I started.
"Seventeen years," said George without a moment of hesitation.
"What?!" Molly gasped.
I shared her surprise though no words escaped my lips.
"I knew from the first minute we met that we were meant to be right here, right now, by each others side," he said with nothing but unwavering confidence. "I knew it would never be easy and it certainly wouldn't happen fast, but I always knew – always."
"You're too young to say such things," said Molly, tripping over her son's meaningful statement. "You're only seventeen."
"We know that, Molly," I said. "We know we're young and it's not like we're suddenly getting married or anything absurd. We just know that we care about each other and have for a long time, and we want to be together. And besides, I know a couple of teenagers who were just about our age when some older and wiser adults advised them that a serious relationship so young was a mistake. Seven gingers later, I would say those two teenagers had the last word."
Molly looked ever so slightly at her husband who sent her a weak smile.
"What about Oliver, Winnie?" asked Arthur, "You two were together for two years. What happened there, and even more specifically what happened tonight?"
"That is a long story, honestly," I said. "Oliver and I haven't been happy for awhile now. We have become two very different people, and those two people don't mesh well. He didn't really want to marry me, and I'm sure he knows that deep down as well. His proposal was just a last stitch effort to keep whatever we had once from completely falling apart. I will always care for Oliver because he was my first love, but I have not been in love with him for a very long time. And I don't want him as my last."
"You grew up together, it's nearly incestuous," said Molly, grasping for excuses.
"Oh, hardly," Ginny snorted too loudly from atop the staircase, obviously having been listening to the entire conversation. The lot of us turned our heads quickly to see her covering her mouth, cheeks as red as roses. One hard glance from Molly and she skidded back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
"It's not like she's not my sister, mum, don't be crude," George frowned, turning back to Molly. "We grew up together, sure. Have I at any point in time saw Winnie in the same way I see Ginny? No, absolutely not – disgusting."
"No offense, Mol, but we've been kept apart for too long already," I said, squeezing George's hand and standing a bit taller. "I am not about to let anything or anyone get in the way of us getting together."
"So you don't care at all about what Arthur and I think about this?" she asked.
"We care about how you feel, Mum," said George, shrugging, "but that doesn't mean we care enough to listen."
Sirius had remained reasonably quiet, but he cleared his throat just then. I'm sure he could tell that Molly was about reload her arsenal of commonsense to release upon us. Arthur was beyond words. It was as if he was stuck between what he thought and what he knew he should be thinking. Sirius stood between the couple, placing an affection arm around their shoulders.
"Let's take a moment to appreciate the fact that both Winnie and George are alive and well," said Sirius in jest. "No one is pregnant, cursed, or on their way to Azkaban. Yes, I understand this is a delicate situation that has arisen, but trying to keep them separated is not an option – and I know that you both know that deep down as well."
"Sirius, do not interfere with how we discipline our children," snapped Molly.
"They're not children anymore – can't you see that?" Sirius interjected, moving forward to stand behind George and myself in the same manner he had between Molly and Arthur. "And what exactly disciplining them for? You can certainly punish them for missing their curfew, but you can't reprimand them for developing feelings for each other. They had no control over that, and you couldn't keep them apart even if you tried."
Molly and Arthur stood in silence for a long time, neither moving a muscle. George and I held our breaths, awaiting our fate. Molly and Arthur exchanged a quiet glance. It was as if they had just realized how helpless they were in this situation, how impossible it would be to control our feelings and actions. And for a moment, only a moment, they seemed as if they were looking into the past.
"Your bedroom doors will always remain open," said Molly, finally. "I will have no public displays of affection while you're living under this roof – or private ones for that matter. Understood?"
"Yes," we said in unison.
"We need time," said Arthur thoughtfully. "Please understand how difficult this is for us to process right now. I have had my suspicions, but thinking and seeing are two very different things."
"Of course," said George.
"You will be punished for ignoring your curfews and for sneaking out," said Molly, her face softening slightly. "Keep in your separate rooms until dinner, not a word. I don't want any trouble from either of you until you're on your way back to Hogwarts."
"Yes'm," we agreed.
Sirius strolled over to the dining room table and picked up two papers. He grinned and handed the Witch Weekly to George and the Daily Prophet to me.
"I bet a little light readings will make your sentences more bearable," said Sirius jested. "I mean, if I had access to Witch Weekly then I never would have left Azkaban. You may have made it to the front page of Witch Weekly, but you only made it to page 6 of the Prophet. However, yours truly had a mention in your absence."
I smirked curiously at him, peeking down at the newspaper. Cornelius Fudge was on the front page, looking rather distressed thought appearing desperately to keep it together.
Mass Breakout
No fewer than ten prisoners have fled Azkaban in the largest successful escape attempt in history. To date, Bellatrix Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood are the only two confirmed names publicly announced. The names of the other eight escapees are slowly being released by Ministry officials. Little is known about the breakout, but speculations have already began to surface.
"We have confirmed that ten high-security prisoners, in the early hours of yesterday evening, did escape. And of course, the Muggle Prime Minister has been alerted to the danger. We strongly suspect that the breakout was engineered by a man with personal experience in escaping from Azkaban; notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, cousin of the escapee Bellatrix Lestrange," according to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge.
"George, look," I breathed, handing him front page. I began to tremble uncontrollably again, clutching my gaping mouth. I took a couple steps backwards and used the wall to keep my knees from buckling. What I saw was real.
"Winnie, what's wrong?" asked Molly, her voice concerned and no longer filled with anger.
Sirius strode forward and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against him. He tilted my chin, so I had to look him in the eye. My bottom lip was quivering, and I couldn't speak. He reached around and pressed my head against him, peering over at the equally startled George who had just let the Daily Prophet slip from his hands and on to the floor.
"Son, what on earth is it?" asked Arthur.
"Well, the good news is that me snogging Winnie shouldn't be the scariest thing you read on the front page anymore," said George, raising his arms over his head and gripped his shaggy red hair. He released a heavy breath and pulled me from Sirius's arms and into his own with some difficulty. He kissed the top of my head and swayed me soothingly from side-to-side. He whispered in my ear, "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
"I'm not scared for me," I breathed. "I'm scared for you."
A few hours later I found myself sipping hot tea at the head of the table surrounded by all the current members of the Order. My face had been washed clean of all my raccoon makeup and freed from the leather-bound constraints of my dress. I sat like a terrified child, shivering under a messy bun of hair, enormous pajamas and a thick blanket. Fred and George sat on either side of me, looking unsure and uneasy. Sirius paced the room like a caged animal.
"Tell us one more time, Winnie," said Lupin soothingly.
"It's like I've told you a hundred times," I sighed, trying to set down my teacup without chattering it against my plate. "The storm woke me up. I looked out the window and I saw him."
"You're positive he saw you?" asked Tonks.
"Yes, he bloody saw me," I snapped. "He was watching me, stalking me."
"And you're absolutely certain it was him?" asked Lupin, unfazed by my outburst.
"What kind of stupid question is that, Remus?" Sirius retorted, slamming down his goblet. "Do you think she would ever forget that face?"
Remus was unfazed by Sirius's angry reply. He kept his eyes on me, very calm and very unmoved. He walked around behind me and placed a kind hand on my shoulder for just a moment. It was a silent apology of sorts. Molly and Arthur sat very close, exchanging worried glances every few minutes. No one else spoke for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Molly piped up.
"She can't go back to school," she said suddenly. "She'll be safest here."
"Let's not be rash, Molly," said Dumbledore, sipping his cup of tea. "There is no place more safe for Miss McKinnon to be than Hogwarts."
"If Harry is allowed to return to Hogwarts then Winnie should be too," said Sirius. "It would raise too many red flags if we start plucking the children of Order members out of school one-by-one."
"He's right," said Snape in his low, lifeless droll, "begrudgingly so. Everyone must go on as if it's business as usual."
"But it's not business as usual, not anymore," said Molly.
"The illusion or normalcy is what is most important," said Cassandra slowly, looking over at Molly with an understanding expression. "Of course nothing is the same anymore."
"But–"
"I think it has been a long twenty-four hours for many of us," said Dumbledore. "Let's allow Miss McKinnon and everyone else to rest their eyes for a little while. We will continue to discuss this issue after dinner as a more intimate group."
"I think some sleep could do wonders," Cassandra agreed.
"Miss McKinnon, I would like to speak with you in private this evening along with your grandmother," said Dumbledore. "It is in regard to your ability, with your guardians' permission of course."
"As long as she is not put through anything strenuous," said Arthur, looking to Molly for a moment. "Winnie has had a rough go."
"Certainly," nodded Dumbledore.
–
I fell back on my bed, crossing my arms over my head. It was no more than a minute before Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione surrounded me. I slowly sat up and crossed my legs, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. All of them looked as if they had a thousand questions but no idea how to ask a single one.
"You're sure of what you saw?" asked Ginny. "Absolutely positive?"
"Yes," I frowned. "I'm positive."
"If it was really Travers in the window then why didn't he come inside?" asked Hermione. "It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to harm you."
"If he would have killed me right after he escaped then everyone would know it was him," I said. "That group of escapees will have their faces posted everywhere, but he'd be on the most wanted list before all the others. Travers also is the kind of hunter who likes to play with his food before he kills his prey. What better way to torture me than haunt me in the flesh?"
"The Order won't let anything happen to you," said Fred. "We'll protect you."
"I'm not afraid for me," I frowned. "Travers collects lives like trading cards. He finds a person to prey on and then kills everyone that person cares about just before killing them himself. I'm scared he's going to come after all of you."
"It's different this time," said George, rubbing my back. "We know what Travers is capable of, and we won't let him hurt any of us."
"You can't promise that," I said, falling onto my side and resting my head on the pillow. "No one can."
–
When I walked into the dust-filled drawing room Cassandra and Leo were not the only visitors I came across. Dumbledore was seated beside her, a gentle smile upon his aging face. The duo sat on one side of the uneven old desk while an open chair sat across from them. Cassandra nodded for me to close the doors behind me and take a seat. I did not expect Dumbledore to be present, and I was almost unnerved to see him in private again. Usually when Dumbledore and I had private conversations they were life changing. I sent him a fleeting grin and slid myself in the chair across from the two.
"Good evening, Miss McKinnon," said Dumbledore.
"Good evening, sir," I replied, my hands tightly laced upon my lap.
"I am certain you are wondering why exactly I have joined you and Cassandra for your session," he said.
"Frankly, yes, sir," I said. "Is something wrong? Am I in trouble?"
"Everything is fine. I assure you," he said, only somewhat calming my nerves. "I merely wanted to see how your ability is developing. I know Molly is still forbidding your participation in the Order's affairs, but I am confident that she would not be too terribly perturbed for me to meet with you for an update."
"Sir, it doesn't take a Seer to know that's a lie," I smirked, "but my lips are sealed if yours are."
He grinned and sent me a friendly wink.
"I already informed Albus that you have been progressing exceptionally well," said Cassandra, nodding to Dumbledore, "but he wanted to see for himself. I know this isn't exactly the best time considering your recent incident, but Albus insisted."
"It's alright," I said quietly.
"How do you feel about your capabilities with your power, Winifred?" asked Dumbledore.
"Um, I guess I'm doing pretty well," I shrugged. "I don't really have anything to compare it to though. I mean, Cassandra has taught me everything she knows, but Sight isn't really something you can just teach – I've come to find out. She's taught me more than Professor Trelawney ever did about readings, tea leaves, Astrology and all that stuff, but I have always been knowledgeable on those subjects just by nature. I am not completely confident in anything I can do besides mindreading – yet. If I concentrate when I touch another person's skin then I know I will be able to see into their head. Visions – the real bread and butter of my ability – are what I am weakest at."
"Winnie, you are doing so well managing your visions," Cassandra objected. "They are so accurate."
"It's not that I don't have confidence in their accuracy, but I struggle controlling them," I said. "I never know when one is coming, and no matter how hard I try to prepare myself for them – I can't. I feel like they're getting stronger, and I am growing less and less able to control them. I wish that I could feel one coming on then just excuse myself to somewhere private where I can meditate with one. However, in reality the visions become so overpowering that my body goes haywire trying to compensate. In the beginning, I would only have them in my sleep then they progressed to causing me to become ill or light headed or even fainting all together. Now, I can have visions that cause my ears and nose to bleed, and make my body go completely limp."
"I went through the same thing, child," said Cassandra. "Your body will eventually adjust, and you will be able to have more control over them."
"I hope so," I sighed.
"I'd like to see you in action if I could," said Dumbledore. "Are you comfortable with that?"
"Yes, sir," I nodded. "What would you like to see me do?"
"I'd like you to see you read my mind, use your crystal ball, tarot cards, tea leaves and anything else your grandmother suggests," he replied.
"Certainly," I replied. "I will just need your hand."
Dumbledore extended his hand, and I took it into my palm. I cleared my mind and focused on my task at hand. I placed my other hand atop of Dumbledore's and instantly felt my body grow rigid and my head snap back. Instead of seeing into Dumbledore's mind nothing happened. It felt the same as if I was just looking into the current thought across his mind but nothing happened. I felt paralyzed for a moment then re-opened my eyes.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," I said.
It was then that I tasted a sickening familiar taste – blood. I swallowed hard and felt my lips and saw a couple droplets remained on my fingertips. Worse, I noticed that both my nose and my ears had followed suit. I most inelegantly tried to wipe away the mess I had involuntarily created upon my face with the back of my sleeve. When I finally looked over onto Cassandra and Dumbledore both of them stared wide-eyed and silent at me almost in horror.
"I'm so sorry," I apologized. "You see, sometimes this happens. It's disgusting, and I didn't even have a vision this time. Here, let me try again."
But Dumbledore jerked back his wrinkled hand before I could grasp it as if he were afraid of my touch. He looked down at his fingers and massaged his knuckles in an odd fashion. Cassandra continued to stare at me in shock.
"I can skip your reading and go straight into looking into my crystal–"
"That will not be necessary," said Dumbledore in a quiet voice that was unrecognizable. "You have proven yourself to be more than capable."
"But, sir, I didn't get to show you anything–"
"You showed me more than enough," he whispered. "You are excused. I would like to speak to Cassandra alone."
"But I–"
"Now, Winifred!" Cassandra shouted erratically.
I jumped from my seat and rushed out into the hall, glancing back only to see Cassandra turned and affectionately placing her hand on Dumbledore's cheek as he continued to massage his hand. I don't know what had just happened, but I was hoping it wouldn't be too terribly long before I found out.
–
A/N: So it has been far too long since I updated. I am so sorry. I have been so wrapped up in work and life in general that I haven't had the time for anything. I refuse to give up on this story. Winnie is my favorite OC that I have ever written. I would never forget about her story, and I would never forget about all of you. Thank you for sticking with me and reading this story. I write for fun, and I appreciate your inspiration and support more than you know. That being said, if you have a Harry Potter FF that you would like me to check out – please recommend it to me. I promise to give it a read and maybe even promote it on my site or at the end of one of my chapters. I love you all and thank you again.
PS: One reader made a comment in the review section that my lack of updates also shows a lack of commitment to my story and characters. Well, I have to admit that I have more of a commitment to my full time job, grad school and my family. Writing is what I enjoy, and I do so when I can. Just because I don't update regularly does not mean I do not treasure my readers – I do. I appreciate all of you so very much. Please do not ever think otherwise.
PSS: Please excuse typos for now. I needed to get this out before I went to bed. I also apologize of this isn't up to par with my usual submissions. I wrote a majority of it a while ago, and I've struggled filling in the rest. I promise the next chapter will come sooner rather than later, and I swear it'll be of more substance.
PSSS: Shout outs will really return next chapter:)
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