I am delighted to finally be able to offer this new chapter to you all. I had two thirds of this written months ago and am ashamed to say I wrote myself into a corner that I just couldn't get out of. Eventually however, inspiration struck and the following is what I was left with.

Needless to say, it's been an unprecedented year for everyone and I imagine a difficult year for most. I hope that everyone is finding some peace somewhere amongst all of the chaos. If like me, you are looking for some escapism, then can I once again take the opportunity to recommend BlueKat's stories 'Playing With Fire' and 'Delicate'. They are extraordinarily accomplished and very enjoyable.

Chapter 25 - Darkness

Alice felt as though she were simultaneously being torn limb from limb whilst also being pressed inward on herself very hard. She could feel George's hand on her bicep, although how she knew it was George's was a mystery as she seemed to have lost the ability to see anything. She had the sense of being roughly pushed but also pulled through a minute hole that was the size of the universe. She wanted to scream but found that she no longer had a mouth.

After what felt like an eternity but realistically could only have been a second or two, she felt something solid beneath her feet. Eyes still screwed tightly shut, she waited a few seconds for her equilibrium to return and when it didn't, she sank to her knees and vomited violently.

An arm around her middle to steady her as she retched and a cool hand at the back of her neck gave her some momentary comfort as the worst of the head-spinning vertigo subsided. Alice felt her pulse finally begin to slow and her fists unclench as she rocked back on her haunches, eyes still closed. She wasn't ready for what would be there when she opened them. Wasn't ready to face the person she knew was holding her, rubbing her back, whispering soothing nonsense in her ear. As the nausea quelled a new feeling, heavy and unhappy, settled in the pit of her stomach.

How could George have kept this from her? What else had he lied about? How had he known who her real father was? Alice felt bewildered, stunned into submission, wounded to her core. Through gritted teeth, she ground out three ragged words.

"What just happened?"

Beside her, she felt George shift a little to accommodate her sagging form better. Alice was dimly aware that she wished she didn't need him to hold her up. He cleared his throat a little.

"I… apparated. It's a form of magical travel. I had to get us out of Arlene's flat quickly." he explained awkwardly "It's not a good experience the first time you do it. Sorry." His breath was soft against her ear and she could still smell the woodsy hint of his aftershave mingling with the damp night air.

Alice swallowed hard, feeling the muscles in her neck strain, thick and rope-like "I was talking about you lying to me." she said thickly, trying to ignore the sour, bilious taste in her mouth. Now she was calmer, she began to shiver. She felt tears seeping from beneath her lids and hoped he couldn't see them. A feeling of soft and verdant wetness under her palms was an indication that she was outside and not delivering the contents of her stomach onto someone's living-room carpet. Well that, at least, was something.

"Alice, I-"

"-GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!" A shrill voice cut across George's reply, so furious and strident that Alice's eyes snapped open of their own accord and she saw for the first time, that she was on her knees in the middle of what looked like a cornfield. The December sky above them was a blanket of stars; the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening was already starting to turn to a frost that would be thick and cruel by morning. Alice watched dumbly as her breath rose in the air before her, and through the misty haze she could see a small, plump figure marching across the field toward them. Beside her, she felt George stiffen slightly.

"Brace yourself..." He muttered, and Alice wasn't completely sure if it was for her benefit or his own. Before she could ruminate on it further however, the figure got close enough to focus on and the volume and tone with which it was speaking seemed to have been specifically designed to freeze the blood in one's veins.

"HOW DARE YOU ARRIVE HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT UNANNOUNCED WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A WORD WHEN THE KITCHEN CLOCK HAS BEEN TELLING ME FOR HOURS THAT YOU HAVE BEEN IN MORTAL PERIL!"

The woman was incensed and laser focussed on making sure George knew it. Despite him having at least a foot and a half on her she squared up to him, a furious finger poking him in the chest. Even in the dark, Alice could see that her hair was an identical shade of flaming red to George's.

A small whimper at her feet alerted her to the presence of Driscoll, who was cowering behind her legs. Alice remembered with a start George scooping up the frightened animal before grabbing her arm and magicking them out of Arlene's flat. A sudden image of the older woman lying dead on her living room floor made Alice choke back a sob. Driscoll, as if aware of what she was thinking, huddled closer to her.

George, for his part, was doing his best to placate the woman, but it was obvious from the expression in his eyes that his familiarity with her was such that he already knew he could only wait for her to run out of steam.

"-BARELY HEARING FROM YOU FOR MONTHS AND THEN TONIGHT I GET AN OWL FROM KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT SAYING THAT YOU WERE SEEN BY MINISTRY AURORS USING MAGIC WITH UNDUE CARE AND ATTENTION AT A MUGGLE PARTY!"

The woman's shrill voice echoed around them before being swallowed up by the night. She seemed to have little regard for how much of a disturbance she was causing so Alice guessed there could be no neighbours nearby. She threw a dazed glance around and could see only miles and miles of field in every direction, the moonlight casting a wintry glow over everything it touched.

"-NOT ANSWERING YOUR FLOO OR THAT DASHED MUGGLE CONTRAPTION HERMIONE GAVE YOU ALL NIGHT! YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE YOUNG MAN!"

A sudden, frosty wind at her back caused Alice to shudder violently enough that it drew the attention of both George and the short woman. George reached for her, a look of concern on his face that almost softened Alice until she remembered his betrayal and recoiled from his touch, reaching down to pick up Driscoll where he sat shivering on the floor in an attempt to hide the involuntary action. She tried not to see the hurt in George's eyes.

"My dear," The short woman turned to her, no longer a shrieking banshee but a warm and motherly presence, eyes crinkled at the corners with concern "You must have had quite the shock this evening. Are you feeling alright?" she reached out and placed a kindly palm on Alice's bare forearm and Alice felt the touch of her warm hand radiating through her skin, almost down to her bones. Her eyes suddenly felt wet again and she hugged Driscoll closer to her, surreptitiously wiping her cheek on his fur.

"Mum," George was saying 'This is Alice. She's my-" he paused, and Alice found herself wondering what he would say. She saw a muscle in his jaw tick before he went with "-landlady."

The smile in the woman's eyes quickly became confusion as the gap in her knowledge made itself apparent "Landlady? But… George, you're renting a flat from a muggl-" she cut herself off and stared at Alice for a long moment, her mouth slightly agape.

"Mum-" George tried again but she quickly cut him off, her voice low and urgent and her gaze never leaving Alice's. The warmth that had so quickly entered her eyes left with equal haste and was replaced with abject horror.

"Have you had time to obliviate her?"

"No, but you don't understand-" George's eyes widened as his mother drew her wand and pointed it at Alice. Alice, still confused and shaken from being magicked into a field in the middle of the night, only stared at the tip of the wand, vaguely mystified at the use of the word 'obliviate'.

"This won't hurt at all, dear-"

"STOP!"

The sound reverberated around them, echoing into the silence and filling up what felt like all the available space between them and the sky.

Both Alice and George's mother looked to George in shock. Even George looked surprised at the depth and forcefulness of his own voice. He reached up and put a hand around his mother's wrist, pulling her arm down so that Alice was out of her line of fire.

"Mum, listen."

X x X

After some persuasion (and the promise to Molly that he would explain everything to her), Alice allowed herself to be led back across the field in the direction from which Molly had come.

George walked in step with her, risking glances at her as often as he dared. He was partly terrified that she would bolt at any minute, and partly desperate to meet her eyes in order to search her gaze for any vestige of the spark between them. He needed to believe that it was still there, that there was still some chance that he could salvage what they had started.

That he hadn't lost this, too.

But Alice kept her eyes firmly on the ground, following in the tracks made by his mother in the frost that was already settling on the ground. Driscoll, far too large for her frame, rested his head on her shoulder like a tired child. They cut a ridiculous figure, and the weight of the dog had to be causing some strain on Alice, but she refused to put him down. She walked in stoic silence behind Molly, her back tense and straight despite the whimpering canine she was carrying. George thought about placing his jacket around her shoulders as he had done outside the hotel – it had fallen to the ground when they had landed in the field and now hung limply over George's arm – but knew that should she recoil from his touch again, his heart might break beyond all repair.

"Here we are…" Molly was saying from up ahead of them as they arrived at the ramshackle towering residence that was the Burrow. In spite of himself, he smiled a little at Alice's reaction to seeing his childhood home for the first time. She had stopped dead, her mouth agape as she tried to comprehend the logic-defying building in front of her. George had never stopped to think how odd the Burrow might look to a muggle familiar only with the limitations of physics.

But Alice wasn't a muggle. Her mother had done her level best to make Alice ashamed of who she was, had presented her daughter's uniqueness as an incurable sickness rather than accept her for everything she was. Alice had been denied her magical heritage because of the ignorance of one person who didn't understand their world.

The ignorance of one person who didn't understand their world.

As George watched Molly motioned from the kitchen door for Alice to follow her into the house a thought, unsolicited and as cold as ice struck him, tipping his world on its axis.