A/N: This chapter was originally supposed to be a part of the one-shot. But because of the shift in perspective, I thought it would be better to split it. Then I was not sure if I wanted to upload this part until I found myself writing this without stopping 😂

I have to warn you that this part especially diverges from canon, so if you don't want to see such a thing, I recommend you not to proceed. But then, the whole concept of this story hugely diverges from canon (lol)


Heather was still in a daze as she entered the Gryffindor common room through the portrait hole. She didn't know how she reached there. She didn't even care about it. Her mind was still trapped back in the Room of Requirement, in the specific moment when Fred gave her a gentle kiss.

Fred kissed her.

How did that happen?

"Heather!"

Heather snapped out of her thought and looked at Hermione, who was looking at her with a concerned face.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione. "What happened?"

What happened?

Heather herself didn't quite know.

"I― I, uh―" Heather stuttered. Her mind was still too blank for her to form any coherent words.

"Come here." Hermione gently pulled her toward the couch and made her sit down as she sat down right next to her.

Heather let herself be dragged according to Hermione's will.

"What happened?" Hermione said as she scooched closer to her. "Did something go wrong?"

"I, I don't know," answered Heather. She barely realized that someone sat down next to her on the other side. "It wasn't… wrong…. I think."

"Did Fred do something to you?" came from beside her. Heather turned her head toward the person to find Ginny sitting next to her.

Did Fred do something to you?

Did Fred do something?

Well, he kissed her. He gently touched her face and leaned in until their lips met―

The memory made all of Heather's blood rise to her face. She suddenly felt so conscious that she couldn't bear it. Her hands flew to her face and covered it entirely.

"Oh my gosh," She mumbled into her palms.

"Heather," said Hermione, "Can't you tell us what happened?"

Heather buried herself deep into her hands, lowering her entire upper body down. She silently screamed into it from the rawness of the emotions and sensations from the recent memory.

Then she abruptly sat up and uncovered her face. Hermione and Ginny watched her with scared expressions on their faces.

"I can't believe that happened," Heather mumbled as if she was talking to herself.

Hermione and Ginny shared glances.

"Oh, you're back, Heather." Ron approached them from behind. Then he saw the weird atmosphere the three girls were in. He looked from one girl to another. "What's going on?"

"Fred kissed me," Heather said quietly in a flat tone. She sounded like she was talking to no one but herself.

Ginny's eyes widened before she laughed in disbelief.

Hermione's frown turned into a wide grin.

Ron was dumbfounded.

"What?" He exclaimed.

"No wonder he didn't come back yet!" Ginny said.

"Well?" Hermione demanded. "How was it?"

"Fred? Fred?" Ron said. "You're talking about that Fred?"

"Shut up, Ron!" Ginny snapped at him. Then she turned back to Heather. "So how was it, Heather?"

"I," Heather stuttered. "I don't… know. It just… happened."

"What happened exactly?" said Hermione.

"Well," Heather began. She herself couldn't really describe what had happened, and thus had to retrace her memory. "After the DA meeting, you said you had to go on a patrol and then…."

Hermione's voice rang inside Heather's mind.

Just go with your feelings, okay?

Heather snapped her head toward Hermione.

"You knew about it, didn't you?" she almost sounded demanding.

"Well, I thought he was going to confess to you," Hermione shrugged. "I didn't think that he would just… kiss you."

"Hang on a minute," Ron interrupted. "Are we talking about the same Fred here? The Fred we all know?"

"Yes, nosy!" Ginny said irritably. "Our brother Fred."

"But― But―" Ron stuttered in shock. "But― you― Fred― kissed― how― what?"

Ginny and Hermione ignored him completely and leaned toward Heather.

"Well?" Hermione urged her to continue.

"Well, he came to me," said Heather, "and then he started talking about Puking Pastilles and… Fever Fudge."

"Ew," said Ginny, scrunching up her nose.

"Then he said―" Heather stopped herself. Recalling what Fred had said to her made her highly self-conscious. She felt her cheek fire up. "He said that I was doing well with the… teaching thing, you know. Then he asked me if I was alright, and then…."

She paused for a moment. She couldn't tell her friends about all the self-critical things she was thinking.

"I don't really know why, but I just started panicking," she said in her attempt to avoid mentioning the specifics, "and I think he was trying to… comfort me. And then he just grabbed me…."

Hermione was leaning in more and more as if she was physically immersing herself in Heather's story.

"And then… it, it just happened," said Heather.

"Wow," said Ginny. "Bold move for someone who's been indulging in anxiety and pining all this time."

"So? How was it?" Hermione said. "How was the kiss?"

"Well," Heather shrugged her shoulders nervously. "It was… good. He was being gentle and soft―"

"No, hold it right there." Ginny stopped her. "You can talk about it later. I don't need to know how my brother kisses someone."

Hermione giggled.

"Well, what happens now, then?" she asked Heather. "Are you two going to be together?"

"I like you, Heather," Fred said, looking into her eyes, "I like you a lot."

Heather couldn't respond.

"I, I don't understand―" she managed to stutter, "how…?"

"Does it matter?" Fred whispered. His breath touched upon Heather's nose.

Heather couldn't say anything.

"But there is one thing that does matter," he said. He took a step back and made some room between the two of them. "I don't know how you feel about me."

Heather's breath hitched. She couldn't tell him, she just couldn't. How could she tell him that she has been watching him all along? Clearly, she had to, but she just couldn't. She was not brave enough.

Just who decided that she was a Gryffindor? She had no courage whatsoever in this matter. She was a coward.

Yes, she was just a boring little girl without family or friends that came from a lonely world. She had never been brave enough to stand up to her aunt and uncle for herself, nor did she have the courage to make herself a friend in the old muggle school. Perhaps it was natural for a girl like that to admire a cheeky, audacious, and funny boy like Fred. Perhaps it was even logical for such admiration to turn into fondness. And before she could even realize, let alone control it, such fondness had turned into adoration.

But she couldn't possibly expect him to return the feelings. She couldn't even dream of someone like him sparing a glance at someone like her. And it was proven when Fred asked Angelina to be his date for the Yule Ball. It wasn't like she expected him to ask her, of course. It still disappointed her, though. But it was a good thing, too. She didn't have to find out that she stood no chance at all the hard way. All she had to do was just try and forget her unrequited feelings for him.

And she was going to let everything go.

She was going to be just friends with him.

And she was trying so hard at it.

How could she say that she was still in love with him now?

"I― but I, I thought…." So many different emotions boiled inside her that she couldn't even speak properly. "I thought― you―"

She didn't even know what she was saying.

Yet, Fred was being patient as he waited with gentle eyes on her.

It made her cry more.

"Heather," Fred said quietly, "it's okay. Just be honest with me. I don't want to force anything."

Heather lowered her head and shook it.

"No, it's― it doesn't make sense," she could only mumble. "I thought― I never had a chance."

She wiped away her tears with her hand.

"I thought I was the only one," she whispered, partly wishing that he hadn't heard her.

But, of course, Fred did hear her.

"Does―" he said, "does that mean what I think it does?"

Heather couldn't raise her head to look at him. So she kept it low and mumbled, "I like you a lot, too. I always have."

Then she refused to meet Fred's eyes as she backed away from him and picked up her bag. She did not look at him for a single moment while she headed straight toward and through the door.

She didn't stop until she reached the Gryffindor common room.

"I, I don't really know," Heather said timidly. "I sort of… freaked out and just walked out of there."

"Right after the kiss?" Hermione asked.

Heather shifted uncomfortably.

"Not exactly," she said. "He asked me how I felt, and I…."

She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered incredulously. "Heather, you've been fond of him for years now!"

"What?" Ron exclaimed.

"And obviously he's been into you, have you not noticed?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh, for the love of―" Ginny shot up from her seat and walked around the couch. She grabbed her brother by his arm and pulled him toward the portrait hole "Come on, you idiot. Let's go find Fred and George."

"But―" Ron began only to be soon cut off as the Fat Lady closed the door.

"Heather," said Hermione, "I specifically told you to go with your feelings!"

"And I did!" Heather said defensively. "I let my feelings take control and look what that brought! I panicked and ran away."

Hermione sighed.

"Sometimes, I think you're as much of an idiot as Ron."

"Wow, that's low."

"Heather, be honest. What do you want to do?"

Heather shot up from the couch.

"I don't know what I want, Hermione, okay?" she began to pace before the almost-dead fireplace. "Yes, obviously I have been looking at him for years, but I never actually thought something like this could happen!"

"But don't you want to be with him?"

"It's not that simple."

"It IS that simple. You like him. He likes you. What more do you need?"

"I don't know." Heather flailed her arms midair in frustration. "There are just so many things that will turn into a disaster. What if― what if he finds some― some weird thing about me and decides that it was all some mistake?"

"Heather, you've known each other for five years now. Don't you think you're way past the 'getting to know' phase?"

Heather buried her head into her hands but still didn't stop her pacing. Hermione reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Trust me, he already knows you and likes you for who you are," said Hermione. "Seriously, I haven't seen him not looking at you even for a second this year."

Heather lowered her hands and threw her head back. Hermione gently pulled her toward herself and made her sit down again.

"I'm just― scared, Hermione," said Heather. "I've never done this before. I've never had anyone close to me in my life."

"I know, Heather, and I get it. But you're not alone anymore."

Heather sighed.

"And what if it turns out to be a mistake?" said Hermione. "It doesn't mean that it is meaningless. We all make mistakes at some point in our lives. And we learn from them and grow out of it."

Heather scoffed and shook her head.

"What would I do without you?"

"Have a miserable life, apparently," retorted Hermione.

"But seriously, I just can't face Fred right now," said Heather.

There was a squeaking noise of the portrait opening. Hermione's eyes drifted momentarily toward behind Heather.

"Well," she said, "too bad for you."

Heather also turned around toward the sound.

There stood Fred, looking awkwardly at Heather.

Heather instantly turned back to Hermione and gave her a pleading look. However, her friend only gave her a stoic look.

"No," said Hermione. "You need to talk about this, now."

And before Heather could say anything, Hermione stood up from her seat and walked up the stairs to the dormitory. She was followed by Lee, Ginny, and George. The two Weasleys were holding Ron between them as they forced him up with them.

A few moments later, Fred and Heather were the only ones left in the quiet common room. Fred walked over to the couch and sat down next to Heather while keeping a small distance between themselves.

"Hey," Fred offered quietly.

Heather still couldn't look at him straight.

"Hey," she said. "I, I'm sorry I ran out back there like that."

Fred chuckled softly.

"It's alright," he said. "I was the one that scared you, anyway. I should be the one apologizing."

"No," replied Heather, "you didn't. I just― I just couldn't look at you."

"Like you're refusing to look at me now?"

Heather could not answer.

A moment of silence passed. Then Fred spoke softly.

"Heather," he said, "do you mean what you said?"

Heather bit her lips.

"That you also like me?"

Feeling her heart grow faster every half a second, Heather nodded.

"Yes," she finally said. "I― I have been fond of you. I still am."

"Then can I ask you why you would refuse to look at me?"

Heather licked her dry lips.

"I just― I just can't…." She scoffed at herself. "I just feel so stupid right now."

"Not as much as I do, I bet," he said. "You have no idea how hard I want to bludgeon myself with the beater's bat."

"I seriously doubt that," Heather mumbled.

There was another pause between them.

"I like you a lot, Heather," said Fred quietly. He gently caressed her face and turned it toward him.

Heather slowly turned her eyes and looked at him. Then Fred suddenly closed in and gave a short kiss on her lips. It was nothing like the one that they shared under the mistletoe. Yet, it was just as gentle and soft.

Fred backed out and looked at her. His eyes were so intense that it was almost like he charmed her not to look away.

"And I want to ask you, formally," he said. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Heather let out a shaky breath.

"And I want to ask you," she said. "Can I say yes?"

Fred smiled at her. He pecked on her right cheek and whispered into her ear.

"I don't wish for anything else."


Her head hurt. She couldn't move.

Yet, she is moving. She is slithering ― crawling on her belly as she moves forward and closer toward the black door.

Beyond the door is a room full of crystals. Rows and rows of shelves full of crystals. She moves through the aisles, looking for her target. Then she sees it. A man. A man with red hair is holding an illuminated wand. And he turns around slowly, his eyes moving toward her―

She hits him hard with her fangs. The man falls to the floor, defenseless. She hits him again. He covers his face, trying to shield his neck. She hits him again. Blood spatter more each time her fangs pierce his skin. She hits him again.

Until he lies still.

"Heather!"

Heather opened her eyes to Hermione's call. Holding a dimly lit lamp, Hermione was standing by her bed. She was looking down at her with a concerned face.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"Hermione!" Heather sprang up from her bed and grabbed her friend's both arms. She was shaking violently. "Mr― Mr. Weasley― He's hurt―"

"Heather," said Hermione, "calm down. What are you talking about?"

"He's attacked, Hermione! We have to tell Professor McGonagall."

Heather didn't care that other girls in the dormitory were moaning in annoyance. She jumped out of bed and ran toward the door.

"Heather!" Hermione called out behind her as she followed her out the room, down the stairs, through the common room, and all the way out the portrait hole.

Once Professor McGonagall heard Heather's rather incoherent depiction of her dream, she did not hesitate to take her straight to the headmaster's office.

Professor Dumbledore had his back turned toward Heather as he listened to Heather's words.

"I think it was in the Department of Mystery, sir," she said. "There was a room full of crystals and Mr. Weasley was there and something attacked him―"

Heather breathed hard as she tried to control her trembling body. The images were all so clear and vivid that it felt like she was still in it.

"It was― it was weird, Professor. It almost― it almost seemed like I was the one―"

The door of the office opened. Heather turned around and saw Professor McGonagall returning with the Weasley siblings behind her. George was the first to enter followed by Fred, Ron, and Ginny.

As he walked in Fred spotted Heather and took a step toward her. Heather flinched toward the opposite direction as if she was physically touched. Fred froze and stared at her in surprise. Then he was led to a corner of the room, where his brothers and Hermione were standing around a chair occupied by Ginny.

"In the dream," Professor Dumbledore said. He was still looking away from Heather. "Were you standing next to the victim or looking down at the scene?"

Heather gulped before she answered.

"Neither. It was like I… I was…."

She couldn't finish her sentence. It felt as if the moment she said it, she was really becoming the beast that attacked Arthur Weasley.

"Professor, will you please just tell me what's happening?" she pleaded.

Yet, even before she finished talking, Professor Dumbledore walked up to one of the portraits.

"Everard, Arthur's on guard duty tonight. Make sure he's found by the right people."

"Sir." Heather was growing desperate as fear, pain, and irritation built up within her.

But Professor Dumbledore kept ignoring her.

"Phineas," he began talking to another portrait. "You must go to your portrait at Grimmauld Place. Tell them that Arthur Weasley is gravely injured and his children will be arriving there soon by Portkey."

Just then, Everard returned from his mission.

"They've got him, Albus. It was close, but they think he'll make it," he reported. "What's more, the Dark Lord failed to acquire it."

"Oh, thank goodness. Next, we need to―"

Heather was having enough of it. Dumbledore was talking to anyone but her as if she just was not present in the room.

Well, he was wrong.

"Look at me!" She screamed at him.

For the first time in a long while, Dumbledore turned around and looked at her directly.

Heather breathed hard. Everything was making her choke ― exhaustion, fear, hurt, anger, and, above all, stress.

"Just what's happening to me?"

She felt like her body could just crash to the floor right then and there from the overload of emotions.

But it wasn't Dumbledore who spoke.

"You wished to see me, headmaster?"

Heather turned around and found Snape standing behind her.

And, of course, Dumbledore reacted immediately.

"Oh, Severus," he said, "I'm afraid we can't wait. Not even till morning. Otherwise, we'll all be vulnerable."

"Understood," Snape answered curtly. He then addressed Heather. "Ms. Potter. Follow me. Now."

Heather felt a strong urge to refuse and remain still. She did not move but glared at Dumbledore's back.

"Potter."

Heather reluctantly turned toward Professor McGonagall. She had a sympathetic and concerned look on her face.

"Go with Professor Snape," she said.

Heather looked at Snape. He glared at her with his usual coldness and tilted his head toward the door. Heather ducked her head quietly and turned around to follow him. She saw Fred flinching toward her through the corner of her eyes.


For the first time ever, Heather dreaded seeing the Weasleys again. Even after she once put Mr. Weasley in trouble with the whole flying car incident in the second year, she didn't feel this guilty and reluctant. She just didn't know how she could see his face again. How was she supposed to see Ron's face? Or Ginny's? Or George's Or Mrs. Weasley's?

How could she face Fred again?

Heather remained quiet, shrunk to herself in the corner of the compartment throughout the entire journey on the train. Hermione eyed her cautiously from time to time from the seat across.

Heather sighed quietly to herself. She should have known. After all, there were just so many things that will turn into a disaster. Surely, she hadn't expected something like this, but it was indeed a good reason for her to set things straight. She was a freak that should stay away from a good family like the Weasleys.

She yawned into her hand. She was feeling more tired than ever. Ever since witnessing Mr. Weasley's assault, she had been reliving the nightmare every night. Those from other nights weren't as real as what she had seen in the original one, but they were still so vivid. And every night, it was a different person she was attacking ― Ron, Ginny, Hermione, George, and… Fred.

She had decided it was better not to sleep in the first place.

And she had decided that it was better for her to break it off with Fred.

"Heather, are you sure about this?" Hermione asked her at some point.

"I have to, Hermione," replied Heather. "This is better. No, this is the only way."

It wasn't going to be so hard, since they had only been in a relationship for just a couple of days.

Heather found out that she was very wrong on the second day of the holiday break.

The first one that entered through the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place was Mr. Weasley in a wheelchair. Mrs. Weasley was next, as she was the one pushing the said wheelchair. Then came in the twins, followed by Ron and Ginny.

Heather did her best to smile at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they passed by. Mr. Weasley's worn-out face stung Heather's heart like a basilisk's fang. Mrs. Weasley smiled wearily at both Heather and Hermione but didn't say much as she hurriedly took her husband to a guest bedroom on the first floor.

Heather then turned around slowly to face the Weasley kids. Yet, she couldn't dare look into their eyes. She kept darting her eyes from one point to another unstably. She was looking at anything but the Weasleys. But she could still feel all of them looking at her. And she could especially feel Fred's eyes on her. He was standing beside George, just a few feet away from her. He was just standing still.

"Heather." Ron was the first to talk. "I don't think I had the chance to tell you, mate. Thank you."

"For what?" Heather replied, her eyes looking down as they still refused to see him.

"For what?" George repeated from behind him. "Are you joking? If it weren't for you, our dad could have been killed."
Heather felt her heart sting again.

"Are you sure?" She said shakily. "What if I'm the one that attacked him?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked with a frown.

Heather swallowed hard. Her breath hitched. And with perfect timing, she was feeling a little light-headed and dizzy as well. Great. Of all the moments, the lack of sleep had to choose this particular time to catch up to her body.

"I―" she began. She tried to drive her exhaustion away. "In the dream, I was the one attacking Mr. Weasley. I wasn't watching the snake attacking him. I was the snake."

"Heather," Hermione spoke softly. "You were just watching it from its perspective. That doesn't mean that you were the one―"

"How do you know, Hermione?" snapped Heather, whipping her head around to look at her. "How do you know that I didn't somehow control this thing in my sleep? How do you know that it wasn't me? You know that I already controlled a snake at the zoo before coming to Hogwarts!"

She was practically screaming. She didn't know why, but she was exploding. She couldn't control herself as if she had lost the ownership of her own body. And a part of her didn't understand herself. Then there was also another part of her that just needed to let it all out.

Fred took a step forward. But Heather stepped back.

"No!" she shrieked, "Don't come near me! Don't you see? You have to stay away from me! Dumbledore said it himself! I'm making everyone vulnerable!"

Heather felt like she was beginning to float. She didn't see anything. Only blackness covered her sight. All the energy that was left in her body, which was not much in the first place, had burst out with her sudden eruption.

After all, stress was never a good thing. Lack of sleep wasn't a good thing, either. And when two things that weren't good came together, it was just going to make things a whole lot worse.

"Heather, you alright?" Heather heard Ron say.

Heather hadn't realized that she had closed her eyes and buried her head in her hand. She hadn't realized that she was one second away from falling to the floor had it not been for Hermione, who had her hands around her.

"Heather, I think you need some sleep," Hermione said in a concerned voice. "You're exhausted. I think it's making you illogical."

Heather brushed her off, nearly slapping Hermione away.

"Of course I'm illogical! I'm already crazy, remember? I'm a freak!"

Heather breathed hard. She felt empty. There was nothing left inside her ― everything had disappeared at once like candlelight going out.

"I… I'm―"

She felt herself falling. Distant voices jumbled up into one mass of noise around her.

She kept falling to a complete black oblivion.

When Heather opened her eyes again, she was lying in the bedroom she and Hermione were using during the break. The inside of the room was rather dim as curtains had been drawn over all the windows. Yet, judging by the bright white light seeping through, it was probably in the middle of the day. She was especially sure of it, for Hermione's bed was empty and well made.

Heather slowly took the covers off and sat up. Her head was groggy and her body heavy. But mostly, she was confused. She didn't remember what she had been doing or what had led up to that particular moment.

Once out of bed, Heather found herself wearing her pajamas. She walked over to her trunk and pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans. After the change of clothes, she slowly opened the door of the room and ventured out to the corridor.

A muffled sound of people bustling was coming from far down from where Heather stood. She quietly went down the stairs, following the sound. It was most likely coming from the kitchen in the basement. Heather could easily discern the clashings of utensils and dishes from the legs of chairs scratching against the wooden floor.

She had just reached the ground level when she heard Mrs. Weasley's cheerful voice.

"Here we go! Daddy's back!"

Heather froze as she realized that it was a celebration dinner for Mr. Weasley's return.

"You're awake."

Heather turned around to find her godfather looking at her. He walked over to her.

"Are you alright now?" he asked. "You had us all worried."

"What happened?" Heather asked.

"You've been asleep for two days," Sirius said after a soft chuckle. "Serves you right after pushing yourself so hard."

"Hermione told you?"

Serius nodded. He patted Heather softly on her shoulder.

"You must be starving, aren't you?" he said. "Everyone's having food down there. Go on."

Yet, Heather didn't move.

"I― I can't, Sirius," she said, shaking her head.

"Rubbish," Sirius retorted. "You've clearly lost weight since last I saw you. You need food."

He didn't give her a chance to escape as he dragged her toward the stairway to the kitchen. Then he nodded toward it.

"Go on."

Unable to fight back, Heather obliged. She reluctantly descended with Sirius following her closely behind. Mrs. Weasley's laugh and everyone's pleasant voices reached her ears. Heather had to suppress the urge to turn around immediately and run back up the stairs.
When she entered the kitchen, everyone was gathered around the table as the Weasleys and Hermione opened up their presents.

"Come on, then, everybody, let's clear this away." Mrs. Weasley had everyone put the gift boxes away from the surface. Then she spotted Heather awkwardly standing at the corner. "Oh, Heather, dear!"

Everyone's eyes turned to Heather. Hermione smiled at her brightly. Ginny also gave her a faint smile. Ron, on the other hand, seemed a little concerned. George looked at Heather before glancing at Fred for a moment while Fred seemed like he was lost somewhere between a smile and worry.

Heather forced a smile on her face as she watched Mrs. Weasley bustled to the side of the room and picked up a small wrapped object. She then hurried toward Heather.

"There you are!"

She handed her a small red box wrapped in ribbons.

"Happy Christmas!" She didn't wait a moment before she gave Heather a big hug and a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you," Heather said, awkwardly returning her hug as she held her present in one hand.

"So lovely to have you with us," Mrs. Weasley said before she hurried back to help prepare food and drinks.

"Thank you," Heather mumbled.

She put down her gift on the empty space on the table before her. She opened the box. In it lay a hand-knitted hat. Despite everything, Heather smiled widely ― genuinely widely for the first time in a long while.

"Toast!" Mr. Weasley said.

Mrs. Weasley once again approached Heather and handed her a glass full of Chrismast drink.

"A Christmas toast," said Mr. Weasley, "to Miss Heather Potter."

Heather gulped. Her heart dropped.

Everyone looked at her and held out their glasses in front of them.

"Without whom," continued Mr. Weasley, "I would not be here."

Everyone had their eyes fixed on her. Yet, Heather didn't find anything close to rejection or despise in any of them.

Heather's hand began to shake.

Mr. Weasley looked at her with warm eyes as he raised his glass. "Heather."

"Heather." Everyone followed suit.

"Heather." Even Sirius joined in.

Heather let out a shaky breath. She put down her glass next to her gift, turned around immediately, and walked out of the kitchen, past Sirius.

Images flashed through her head. Vivid pictures of Mr. Weasley's bloody and unconscious form crept back before her eyes.

She went straight up the stairs to the ground floor.

"Heather!" Fred's voice called from behind her. She could hear him following up the stairs.

Heather hastened her pace as she reached the ground floor. She trotted through the dark corridor toward the stairs to the bedrooms. She was just about to reach the third step up the staircase when a big hand grabbed her arm.

"Heather," said Fred.

Heather stayed still with her back toward Fred.

"Heather," Fred called her again. "Heather, talk to me. Please."

"I'm sorry―" said Heather. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Fred. I just―"

Fred gently reached his free hand and carefully touched Heather's face. He slowly pried her head to turn toward to face him. Heather moved according to his lead, but refused to meet his eyes.

"Heather," said Fred softly, "look at me."

Heather still looked away.

"Please?"

It was only then she finally gave in and slowly turned her gaze.

Fred looked into her eyes for a moment without words. He let go of her wrist and cupped her chin with both hands like he did when he kissed her in the Room of Requirement. Yet, Heather knew that he wasn't about to kiss her this time.

"Heather," he said after a long minute of silence. He looked into her eyes deeply. He said lowly and softly. "None of this is your fault."

Heather didn't answer. She wanted to turn away from him again. Yet, once again, Fred had his mysterious charm on her that made her unable to move under his gaze.

"It's because of you that Dad survived," he said. "And we all thank you so much for that."

"I― I know," Heather answered. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I know, Fred."

That's why it hurts so much, isn't it?

"Then don't leave me."

Heather couldn't hide her surprise. She was sure that it showed on her face.

"Don't leave me, Heather," Fred said it once again. His voice was calm and quiet but it was also deeply piercing. "Please."

Heather let out a humorless laugh.

"Hermione?" she asked.

Fred also smiled a little. He nodded.

"But― but it's not safe. I'm going to put everyone in danger. I can't― I can't let that happen."

"You won't," said Fred, "because it's not you that makes it dangerous. You said it yourself. He's back. As long as he lives, we're all in danger anyway."

Heather couldn't say anything to it.

"And without you, my life would be much more miserable than it should be."

Heather felt her eyes slowly welling up. She couldn't help herself throw her arms around Fred, holding onto him tight. Fred also wrapped his arms around her waist in a firm yet gentle grip.

"I'm sorry," Heather whispered into him. Tears flowed over her face and onto the shoulder of his sweater.

"Don't be," Fred whispered back. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

The two of them spent a good minute as they hung onto each other.

Then Heather softly asked, "How much did she tell you?"

"About that dream you had that night," answered Fred, "that you haven't been sleeping since then, as well as that you might have a connection to the Dark Lord himself, and that you're thinking of breaking up with me."

Heather scoffed.

"So pretty much everything?"

Fred hummed in response.

"I'm going to have a talk with Hermione for being a snitch," Heather mumbled.

Fred's back thumped mildly as he laughed softly.

"Don't give her too much of a hard time though," he said. "She's a saviour from my side."

Heather giggled. Even after all the ruckus she had thrown, she couldn't help enjoying the moment with her boyfriend.

Wow, that sounded so weird. Just the idea of having a boyfriend didn't make much sense to her.

Out of nowhere, someone cleared his throat.

Heather recognized that voice and jumped, breaking her hold of Fred, who did the same and turned toward the source of the sound.

Sirius was standing a few feet away from them. He eyed them with a teasing look with his arms crossed.

"So," he said, "care to explain just when this all happened?"

Fred glimpsed at Heather while Heather lowered her head to hide her blushing face and traces of her tears from her godfather.

"Hm?" Sirius slowly walked over to them.

"Not long ago," Fred answered in a tone that was serious and cheeky at the same time.

"Not long ago," Sirius repeated. "When?"

"Around last week," Fred replied.

"Around last week." Sirius stopped when he was about two feet away from them.

Heather quickly wiped away the remaining tears and looked at him.

"Sirius," she said, "please don't make it weird."

"Oh, no, no, no." Sirius shook his head. He chuckled. "I understand, Heather. Your age, it's the time for love. Believe me, I have watched James and Lily."

He smiled at the two of them. Yet, Heather could sense that it was more of a mischievous one than an understanding one.

"But," said Sirius, "that doesn't mean that I can't be the strict guardian here."

"Sirius," complained Heather.

Sirius ignored her. He looked at Fred with piercing eyes.

"If you hurt my goddaughter in any way," he said, "I'm going to make your life harder than it should be."

Fred looked like he was stifling a laugh as he nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Remember, I'm the original Marauder. I can be creative when I have to."

"Of course."

Heather smacked her face with her hand and sighed into her palm.

Sirius grinned widely at the two of them as he patted Fred on his shoulder.

"Now go back down there. Everybody's waiting."

Fred and Heather shared a glance before making their way toward the kitchen. Sirius watched them with a smirk, turning around as they passed by him.

"I wasn't joking, though," he said.

Fred lowered himself and whispered into Heather's ears, "I'm a little curious what he might do to me. Not that I will really hurt you, mind you."

"Don't try him," she whispered back. "You know what they say, 'curiosity killed the cat.' Although, I doubt that he will just kill you. He would consider death as mercy."

"Which is exactly why I'm curious."

By then, they reached the basement and went through the kitchen door.

"Come on now, you two." Mrs. Weasley gestured at them toward the inner side of the table as she moved about with plates and dishes. "Would you like some potato, Heather dear?"

Fred walked over to his seat next to George while Heather sat down next to Ginny. Hermione smiled at her from across the table. Heather was about to return it, but she didn't get a chance as Mrs. Weasley came next to her and placed food on her plate.

"Well then, everyone," Mr. Weasley said. "Let's dig in, shall we?"

Everyone thanked Mrs. Weasley for the food before they began eating. Heather also slowly picked up her fork. It would have been a lie if she was to say that she was all over her fear and doubts. She still didn't know just what was going on with her or what was to happen in the future. Yet, maybe ― just maybe ― she could appreciate what she had, at least for the moment.

Heather put some food into her mouth. For the first time in a while, she thought it tasted delicious.


A/N: Thank you so much for reading this!

Please feel free to leave kudos and comments.
Although I did plan this to be a one-shot originally, I might extend it a bit if I feel like it (lol)
If you do want to see more, please do let me know in the comments.

I hope you all stay safe and have a great day, wherever you are.

Best, Lisa :)