Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter universe, that all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Non Llewellyn however is mine.

WARNING: This story is rated M for a reason and this chapter is one of them. There are some darker themes and trigger warnings so if threats of sexual violence and death bothers you please proceed with caution. Especially the flashback italics section towards the end of the chapter. If you don't like reading along those themes then please skip that part. If anyone would like to discuss anything with me after reading, please feel free to PM.

Also please note Non will speak Welsh in this chapter. All speech in Welsh is enclosed by [ ].

Chapter 11

"So, I fucked him."

Tea came snorting out of my nose as I clutched my travel cup and gazed to my left in horror to see Tobin chuckling to herself in quiet delight at my reaction.

"I thought – I thought you were avoiding your match?"

I was still spluttering as Tobin shrugged her shoulder before taking a dainty bite out of one of the cupcakes I'd brought with me for my final shift monitoring in the warehouse before I left for Azkaban.

"I was but he tracked me down. Quite glad he did actually, he's got a huge dick. Best bit was when he bent me over the kitchen table and-"

"Jess Tobin don't you dare finish that sentence!"

I was scandalised. But she finished it anyway. I sat gazing at the warehouse as I tried to block her out, I mean seriously had she never heard of over sharing before. Finally, finally she stopped telling me about her sex life and a silence settled over the room as I carried on looking at the warehouse. Where nothing was happening. Again.

I felt an itch forming on the side of my face that had nothing to do with my skin but everything to do with the feeling of eyes on me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see Tobin staring intently at me?

"What?"

I didn't like the smirk on her face.

"You fucked Weasley yet then?"

I raised an eyebrow trying to fight a mischievous grin.

"Which one?"

It was Tobin's turn to choke on her tea before she set the cup down and gave me a silent round of applause.

"Alright you got me. That was not an answer I expected from you Llewellyn." She shot me a speculative gaze before shrugging to herself. "So c'mon spill, you shagged George then?"

"Don't be daft Tobin, I don't even fancy him. Besides, we've only just decided to be friends."

Tobin cackled loudly at that and quickly smothered it, her shoulders shaking as she tried to supress her laughter.

"Don't fancy him? Oh c'mon Non, he was one of the fittest blokes at Hogwarts."

"I thought you transferred in your fifth year to Beauxbaton?"

"I did, but he was already cute then, he's only gotten better from what I've seen in passing. Are you seriously trying to tell me you don't find him attractive?"

I hesitated for a moment and I saw her grin triumphantly as I rolled my eyes at her.

"I can freely admit he's attractive Tobin but that does not mean I fancy him. That's something different."

Which it was.

That didn't stop me squirming awkwardly while feeling her staring at me intently as I kept my eyes trained on the warehouse. I didn't like thinking about George's attractiveness, it only made me think of my own lack of attractiveness and how in the looks department he was way out of my league. The silence stretched on uncomfortably long for me.

"Seriously Tobin, I can safely say hand on heart that I have never been attracted to a red head before."

And I mean I hadn't. My one and only boyfriend, Justin Finch-Fletchley, had had the loveliest brown hair that would start to curl once he grew it out to a certain length and in the summer it would sometimes look like it was shot through with gold with natural highlights from the sun. I felt a painful twinge at the thought of him and tried not to bite my lip. The other few dates I'd been on one had been with a blonde with wavy hair and in the case of Dominic Hartson jet black curls.

"I'm calling bull shit."

I shot her a glare.

"Call it all you want Tobin, it's the truth."

"If you say so. Know that I don't believe you and I will be waiting to crow about it the day you finally admit it."

I ignored her and she scoffed at me before she too finally settled in to carry on monitoring the warehouse. We thankfully didn't have very long left on our shift and as the door nudged open to reveal the first of our replacements I gathered up my travel cups and placed them back on my flask, rolling my eyes at Tobin's wink. She was impossible.

Once I got outside I skirted the side of the building to make sure I was still out of sight and checked my watch. Eleven o'clock in the morning and I was due at the port side to get to Azkaban for noon. So not much point heading home to twiddle my thumbs and I had already packed my small bag full of what supplies I'd need in readiness. I let out a heavy breathe trying to quell the low level panic that was building at the thought of setting foot on the island that housed the prison, drew my wand from its holster and focusing on the end point I turned with a crack and opened my eyes to gaze out across sand dunes to take in the sight of the choppy North Sea.

I ambled along the dunes, stepping between the clumps of sparse grass as I kept a lookout for the entrance to the dock side. It didn't take me long to see the two low grey stones spaced roughly two foot apart. They had been marked with deep gouges, I imagine long ago they had been runes back when they were newly done, but now they were unrecognisable it looked more like deep welts had been scratched into their surface by some long clawed monster. The air seemed to shimmer around them, which I knew to be old magic whereas any poor muggle that happened by would have the urge to walk right past it further along the beach if not turn around completely. I adjusted my bag strap on my shoulder and stepped between the stones, ignoring the pulsing of magic as I stepped through the invisible barrier.

A well-worn track appeared before me and I picked my way along it being mindful not to trip on the uneven surface as it led directly down to the beach. My boots crunched on the damp sand as I carried on forward to where the dockside waited for me, ancient wooden pilings and boards creating a creaky walkway that looked like one heavy wave would disintegrate it and I supposed that without magic, it would have.

There was no sign of the boat that would transport me from here to the island but then I hadn't anticipated there would be given I was early. There was no sign of anyone else yet either ready to travel across but I was sure others would start arriving soon. There was normally a group of upwards to ten that changed shifts at a time.

I plonked myself down on the wooden platform, ignoring its groan of protest as I tried to bury myself deeper into my jacket. It was my thick fur lined one again and I ducked my neck down into the colour to keep the chill breeze from me. Despite it nearly being the last week of August, this far north and this close to the sea it was nearly always cold. I nabbed some parchment, quill and small ink pot from my bag and started to write up my report from my earlier shift so I would have it ready to send off by owl one I reached the island.

The hour dragged by a bit slowly until finally one by one five other aurors arrived at the dockside to wait for the boat across with me and I fought a frown that there were so few of them. I stood to greet them all but after the initial nods of greeting they all seemed more than happy to converse amongst themselves which I didn't mind at all. I didn't recognise any of them which meant that they were either the aurors that were on a more regular Azkaban rotation than me or they were part of the group that escorted prominent members of the Ministry about their business.

When the boat finally arrived to transport us I held back to let everyone else settle into place first before I slipped on at the end. I hated getting on the boat first it was always so unstable in the choppy waves and I feared that I would fall in to the sea and make a fool of myself. I didn't doubt that if I was by myself that would never happen but on past form I usually seemed to save such mishaps for an audience. There was an oarsman with the boat although he was oarsman in name only as he lazily swished his wand and the boat juddered forward as it worked against the movement of the sea. The boat ride usually took about forty minutes (thirty on the return trip) so I settled myself down onto the uncomfortable wooden seat and blocked out the murmuring voices around me as I prepared myself for a week on the island.

Normally in the run up to Azkaban duty I spent a good fortnight prepping myself so I could be as in control of myself and my thoughts as possible. That of course has been scuppered this month by the introduction of the Marriage Law, interactions with George and my new hectic work schedule. All had exhausted me in different ways and I could feel the 'doors' in my mind where I usually shut out unpleasant memories already creaking. The fact that a thought about Justin had leaked through earlier was a sign I wasn't at my best. I knew Luna and the rest would say that I shouldn't compartmentalise things the way I did but it was honestly the only way I knew how to cope. So long as I let myself actually think on things from time to time generally it didn't bottle up too much, not like it had before my major panic attack. I mean that's not to say I thought on them as much as I should do, I was in a way walking a tight rope and it was a fine balancing act to make sure I got it right but I was aware of it at least. But I mean who liked thinking about things that hurt them anyway? All of the memories of loved ones that were no longer here they were just a stark brutal reminder of what I could no longer have and I felt the rising sense of disquiet at that thought. Great, I wasn't even at the island yet and my thoughts were turning morbid.

I took a deep breath and decided to turn my gaze to the skies. There were quite a few sea birds active, they weren't seagulls I knew that but what species of bird they were was anyone's guess. I made a mental note to myself to look them up when I was next at home. The sea had calmed somewhat and the gentle slap of water and lapping of small waves was actually quite soothing. I carried on focusing on that and deliberately kept my gaze turned away as the island and foreboding prison upon it drew closer.

The boat finally shuddered to a stop and I reluctantly turned my head to view the island as the aurors in front of my started to disembark. The island was bleak, craggy stone. There was very little vegetation and what scraps of brittle grass that had managed to gain a meager hold in some of the cracks and ledges was bleached and sickly looking. No birds flew over the island, they did a loop around if they happened to come close, and there were no nesting sites, not even on the sheer cliff face I could see looming up to my right which anywhere else in the world I had no doubt would have made perfect nesting ground.

Azkaban itself drew the eye. It seemed to even draw in the sunlight as even though it was not long past noon on a summers day there was a murky gloom, as though it was permanently twilight here and the sun itself seemed never to hit the buildings walls. The prison building was monstrously large. Not quite on the same scale as Hogwarts but it was still one of the biggest buildings I'd ever seen. It was a simple square shape with four sheer walls stretching up at least fifty feet before smaller square towers emerged above them. There were tiny windows from those towers, like rows of needle like teeth grinning freakishly down on everyone. What was in those towers I didn't know.

Only the first three levels of Azkaban above ground had ever been used by the Ministry. There were rumours of there being basement levels but they had been sealed off when it was first opened as a prison. As to the upper levels there had been talk at one point of investigating them further but over the last one hundred years it had never been done and I didn't think now they ever would be. There were some parts of the prison building you just avoided, whether there were ancient spells upon it to ward people off or if some parts of the building were just too steeped in evil I wasn't sure. All I knew was that aside from the three levels the Ministry now used I never wanted to see an extra inch of the building if I could help it.

A cold wind gusted my hair into my face and I ducked my head and tried to tuck the stray pieces behind my ear as I trudged slowly up to the prison to sign in as a group of six aurors walked passed, speedily heading down to the boat that would free them from here back to the mainland. I shuddered as I passed through the arching stone doorway where one half was permanently propped open and I waited in line at the sign in desk. There was a weedy looking wizard sat behind the desk, a bored expression on his aged face as he processed us. When it was my turn I hesitantly gave my name and he rolled his eyes at my nerves. It was alright for him, it looked like he was part of the furniture here and I had no doubt he was one of the rare people that was permanently placed here and I had to fight against curling my lip in distaste. In my opinion anyone who could face being here full time had something seriously wrong with them.

He lazily flicked his wand and a package wrapped in brown paper floated towards me and I plucked it from the air before cradling it to my chest. This was my set of supplies for the week and I knew I wouldn't do well here without it. Next he held out a skeletal hand to pass a stone key towards me.

"You're in room 22f. All keys must be returned upon leaving."

His voice was wheezy and thin but it was clear enough and I nodded at him silently before striding off to find my room. Really it was one of the old cells that had been converted to give aurors a safe sleeping space when they were here and I shivered with unease as I wondered who had used the cell in the past. I bit on my lip to try and stop the thought. This was something Azkaban was good at, making you think of things that would frighten or creep you out. Ordinarily I would never have thought about it but now I had I couldn't properly shake it and I just knew it would reappear again probably just as I tried to go to sleep.

The stone key crunched slightly in the lock before the door swung inwards. It was a very small cell. Just enough room for a small washstand, toilet and a single bed. The shower facilities were located in a designated bathing area. They were disgusting to use, and the water always seemed lukewarm at best despite the heating charms that were placed on it and I pulled a face at the thought of having to use it again.

I sat down on the bed and quickly set about untying my package. A crumpled piece of parchment slid out and wafted to the floor before I could catch it and I sighed heavily as I leant forward to retrieve it. I knew exactly what it would be; my shift rota for the next week. The rest of the items were also all exactly what I was expecting. A food parcel, basic rations really seeing as nothing could grow on this island and it had been decided after the war that we wouldn't subject house elves to working here. It also meant the Ministry could save on having to provide bulky amounts of food. The final item was the auror robes I had to wear while on duty here. They were predictably black as most work robes were, with a grey badge outlining the shape of the prison. The great thing about these robes though were that they were made of a thicker material than normal, I'd been told they'd been woven from the wool of a magical species of sheep (I'd been surprised when I'd heard that as I'd had no idea you could even get magical sheep) that helped ward off ill thoughts and as I stood to shrug myself into them I did notice that I instantly felt better. The robes on their own could not ward off all of the ill humours of the prison but at least it was better than nothing.

I glanced then at my shift timetable and noted I was due to start my rota within the hour, which left me just enough time to post off my report from the prison owlery and to try and have a bit of lunch. It would be a ten hour shift so I knew I'd have to eat now otherwise I'd be starving by my shifts end.

And so my week at Azkaban began. The first few days were monotonous and seemed to blur together. My shifts were predictably dull. Each hour you had to make a cursory sweep along each floor to ensure all prisoners were in their cells, with the least serious criminals on floor one and the most dangerous up on the third floor. A part of me was disquieted at the thought of all of the death eaters being housed on the same floor but given that their cells were sound proofed so they couldn't communicate with each other I supposed it wasn't a problem. The real problem with Azkaban now that the dementors weren't there was that there was no escaping from your thoughts and the very nature of the island meant that the longer you were there the more depressed your thoughts would get.

My thoughts strayed often to Gruff. After my bout of crying in the shower I had, predictably for me, managed to lock thoughts of him away but I couldn't seem to escape the thought of him here. Memories I thought I had long forgotten kept re-surfacing from my childhood of just how good things had been when Gruff seemed to become part of the family and I dwelled time and again on the weeks following his disappearance. I had never seen my parents so scared before and they were never the same after he left either. Each time we got post, or there was a call at the door you could almost see it in my mam's face that wild hope that it would be news of Gruff or even Gruff himself but of course it never was.

I knew through my job what a disappearance could do to a family. The lack of closure, never knowing if they were alive or dead, would eat away at them. It broke families and it had broken mine. I knew I was glad that Gruff was alive but the very thought that he had never bothered to tell us, that my parents had died still not knowing if he lived, started to form a knot of anger in my gut. I could feel the bitterness inside me as well, that all these years after he had never, not once, tried to contact me. How could anyone do that to people they had thought of as family?

I cried a lot those first few nights, always angrily wiping my tears away, vowing to myself that Gruff wasn't worth it but the next night the cycle would repeat itself. I tried everything to distract myself. I tried reciting all of the plants I had in my greenhouse, I practices as many charms as I could in my room, I even tried to remember all of the dates from the Goblin Wars that Professor Binns had droned on about at Hogwarts but nothing seemed to work.

On Thursday things took a turn for the worst. It was the 29th August and as I quietly ate my breakfast I recalled with a sick feeling it was the anniversary of my parents' death. Five years. I'd had five long years without them. When things went wrong, when I was uncertain or unsure of what to do they were never there for me to call on like they should have. How to fix things, heal things, cook things, make things…all of the things a parent is supposed to be there for even after you've reached your majority and mine had never been there for it. Even just a hug, or a cwtsh, I missed with an intensity it frightened me.

When they'd died I'd never really reached the point in my life where a cwtsh from my mam and dad didn't make anything better. Even now I sometimes desperately thought, if I could just have one more cwtsh, one more hug then that would be enough. What made things worse was that no matter how hard I thought I couldn't even remember the last one we'd shared. I only had very few photographs of them, but I had the awful thoughts that without them I'd even forget what they looked like.

I shook my head angrily at myself as I stomped my way to the third floor to start my rounds. You see this is what I hated about this place. These thoughts would sink into you, pulling you under and it was almost with resignation I knew that now I had started on this train of thoughts the nightmares would start. They eventually always did here. The third floor wasn't really the best place for me to turn my thoughts on a happier path either.

I walked slowly along, checking each cell as I went. Each cell was lined with bars, much too narrow for anyone to squeeze through, and I could see the hazy shimmer of the ward shields that helped add an extra layer of protection and to sound proof the cells. The doors to the cells had always bothered me. They were all made of a heavy wood but the hinges were small and the lock itself looked like it could easily be broken. I knew there were magical spells upon it but that didn't help stop the irrational thought that one of the inmates could just bust their way out of there.

And it was the inmates that I hated. I hated them for all of the crimes they had committed during the war, for the people they had murdered and the families they had torn apart. But mostly I hated them because I feared them. I never knew the names of the death eaters that had held me captive, or the ones that had practiced their curses and hexes on me, yet I couldn't help but wonder if some of them were here on this floor with me, only a ward and a flimsy door between us. I shivered with unease.

When making sure the cells still contained their occupants I tried not to look too closely at the prisoners. Most had their backs turned anyway, usually hunkered down in a corner but some would just stand there and stare, their faces dead looking but their eyes still burning with a hatred and poison I couldn't understand. Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphous Lestrange were two of the worst. They had been infamous in both of You Know Who's periods of power and their ability to terrify hadn't gone away.

"What do they do each day?"

I mumbled the words, more just to hear the sound of a human voice to break up the eerie quiet, but now I'd asked the question I genuinely wondered. Prisoners on the first and second floor were allowed outside for periods so that they could exercise. Some on the first floor who were only in for minor misdemeanours even had access to books and writing tools but the ones here on the third floor, they had nothing. It was solitary confinement pretty much twenty four hours a day from what I understood save for the brief minutes they were brought their food and healing spells used on them to ensure they physically weren't in any distress.

"Most of them wank."

I could feel my face distorting in disgust as I looked around to see where the voice had come from. There was an auror stood at the end of the long corridor and I eyed him wearily. I wasn't looking forward to having to stand next to him for the next hour. He was short, only a bit taller than me, and his nose had definitely been broken at least once in the past. As I got closer I also noted there was a big dent on the left side of his bald head.

"Not sure I needed to know that, nor how you know it."

I muttered quietly to him as I took up the spot next to him.

"I watch 'em."

What the actual fuck?

"You…you. Right. Well that's – that's a bit weird."

I tried to inch away from him subtly. I was going to have to scourgify my mind.

"Well you gotta watch 'em see. Never know what they're up to. I see things you see. And them wanking is one of them."

Dear Helga, he was a talker. I glanced quickly at his robes and saw the dark blue edging around the grey outline of the prison motif. I'd finally learnt this week that it indicated that the wearer was a permanent resident on the island. Which explained so much because this guy was seriously strange. And a potential voyeur to boot.

"What else do you see?"

I hoped my question would steer him away from any conversation that involved death eaters and their wanking habits.

I can't believe I've just had to think that.

"Oh loadsa things. Not that anyone listens to me."

Can't think why.

"My superior, see he always tells me to shurrup. Says I should have learnt after having my head bashed in that I only talk nonsense. But I knows what I see."

He'd gestured to the dent in his head as he spoke.

"How'd you get your head bashed in?"

"Oh it was at the Battle of Hogwarts. A giant was smashing up one of them walls and a great hunk of boulder clocked me right on my noggin. I'm alright now. Although my son says I've got no filter. Seems I can't not say what I think, or what I see. Caused a bit of upset at home that so they figured here's the best place for me seeing as it doesn't bother me feelings. I can still work. I can still spot trouble."

I felt a bit bad now. He'd been injured in the line of duty in defeating death eaters and this was his reward. A full time placement at Azkaban.

"What trouble have you spotted then?"

I prompted him again. Maybe he didn't get much chance to speak to those that weren't regulars at the island and I would literally do anything to keep the conversation off the topic it had first started on.

I was treated to a ten minute dump of information. Most of it was pretty harmless. The guards chatting a bit too much perhaps with the prisoners as they handed over food, small things like that which really didn't amount to anything as my companion couldn't even specify how much time talking was too much.

"…and my superior see he ignored all of it. He won't send my report on back to the Ministry or nuffink. Not even the stuff about the fish."

I'd been nodding absentmindedly along with him but I froze at those words.

"The fish?"

"Yeah the fish. Completely inside out they were. You could see all their innards on their outards, their bones and everythink. Little puddles of flesh. It was disgusting let me tell you and I don't disgust easily."

I imagined he didn't but my thoughts were racing. Inside out fish. Just like all of the cases we'd had back on the mainland, including one on the eastern coast of Scotland, and of course the similarity with the inside out murder of Mr Task that was still unresolved.

"Have you still got that report?"

"I certainly do." He sounded affronted to even be asked. "I keep all of my reports I'll have you know miss. All in good order too. Just as I was taught to."

Excellent.

"Well I must say I agree with you. That it was worth reporting. Say you wouldn't be able to send it on to the Ministry for me could you? I work on one of the investigations teams, and I could look into it for you. If you like?"

I'd tried to hide my need for the report. I didn't know this auror and it could be that he was one that wouldn't go against his supervisor and as his supervisor had said no about sending the report in it could be it was a long shot of him wanting to send it on to me. I hoped complimenting him and making it an offer that needed his decision that it would work.

"Blimey would you miss? That'd be good. And you'd let me know the outcome?"

"Of course. Anything like this we take seriously, I think it's great you spotted it and have written up the report. I'd be happy to help you Mr…?"

"Oh the names Morris, Clive Morris miss. And you are?"

"I'm Non Llewellyn."

"I didn't know the Ministry had started employing the French!"

What the…? My name was obviously Welsh!

Before I could correct him he was off talking again, a steady stream of stories which were mainly nonsense and I had a moment of doubt about the authenticity of any of his reports. Really, the man seemed a bit mad but I couldn't ignore it if there'd been another instance of experimental magic and this time at Azkaban itself. There was something seriously wrong if the prison was linked to these instances and I tried to focus on Morris' words to stop the feeling of disquiet spreading through me.

Finally Saturday came around, my last day, and I knew with a heavy sigh that I could no longer put off what I had been ignoring all week. After a meagre breakfast I headed through the great stone doorway outside and took up a small path that would lead to the opposite side of the island. It was only a twenty minute walk and then I found myself at a miniature maze of stone monuments each one plain and unadorned on their fronts with one giant stone slab in the centre providing an explanation for its existence.

"In memory of those muggle born and all those wrongly imprisoned on this island during the infamous reign of You Know Who who sadly lost their lives. May their memories linger on in the hearts of their families and loved ones, and may they at last find peace from their suffering. We will not forget."

There was quite a lot more underneath it, and I knew on the reverse side of the stone monuments would be a list of names of all the muggle borns that had died here. I meandered through them all before crouching down before one. I knew exactly what name would be on the reverse.

Chloe Smith.

She'd been one of my best friends in Hufflepuff. A muggle born. And she'd had the most beautiful singing voice you had ever heard. Celestina Warbeck wasn't a patch on her, which even I as a devoted Welsh fan of Ms Warbeck's, could concede. She'd have gone on to such success I just knew it. Had she lived.

But she hadn't. She'd gone to register as a muggle born when the You Know Who run Ministry had required it. And they'd decreed her guilty of stealing her magic and she'd been shipped here where the dementors had free reign.

I hated coming here. I hated having to visit Chloe's grave. I hated that she had died here all alone and in complete despair. The things the muggle borns had been put through…I had to swallow back some bile. It had been a disgrace. An absolute stain on the magical world's history and the only bloody monument they had was stuck on this godforsaken island where their families could never visit.

I could hear the crunch of footsteps from fairly close by and the muttering of voices but I stayed crouching down. I didn't particularly want to see anyone right now.

"…still can't believe they wasted money on this."

"Look we know the wider communities had to be appeased. Not like we don't know what happened here was the right thing."

"You're telling me. Filthy mudbloods. Got what they deserved."

I had to stifle a gasp of outrage with my hand. What the hell was I hearing? The only people on this island other than the prisoners were aurors which meant that these two people with their anti-muggle born views were in the employ of the Ministry. I felt a surge of rage. After the war the auror department was supposed to have been purged of such people but clearly Shacklebolt hadn't been thorough enough.

I was torn in two minds. Did I stand up and let my presence be known? Given their blatant words that was perhaps not the best option, I didn't fancy a skirmish or being obliviated to forget. Best I stayed ducked down and quiet I supposed, either I could hear more that I could report on but really what I needed was their names.

I realised with some horror that the crunching footsteps were coming closer and that they and the muttering voices came to a stuttering halt. So I'd been seen. I took a juddering breath and kept one of my hands over my face as I pretended to sob silently. Perhaps they'd think I'd been crying all along and not heard them.

"You alright there love?"

I stiffened slightly at the spoken words before glancing up in pretend surprise, hastily wiping at my face. I knew my eyes would look upset (as they always did when I visited here) and I hoped that was enough cover.

"Oh I…yes I'm okay thank you. Just visiting a friend."

I stood slowly and allowed my lip to tremble as I gestured to Chloe's stone marker.

There were two men stood in front of me. Completely non-descript really, in fact one could have passed for handsome on a good day. Both were gazing at me with sympathy.

"Aye lass, we've all lost someone. Such a terrible thing."

I nodded silently, my thoughts racing. They seemed completely genuine. Had there been two others nearby that I had heard instead? I chanced a look around and let out an unhappy sigh of agreement. I also couldn't see another person anywhere near. It had to be them. I had to hand it to them, they were very good actors.

"It really was." I sniffled. "I'll leave you both in peace to pay your respects."

They both smiled kindly at me as I passed but I could feel them watching me the whole way back out of the maze of stones and it wasn't until I'd walked a good five minutes up the path and had rounded a crag of rocks that I felt it safe to let out a huge gust of air. I just couldn't believe what I'd heard. I wish I could have thought how to get their names but it just hadn't been safe enough to even attempt it. If they'd had an inkling that I'd heard them…given their real attitudes I didn't like to think what could have happened.

The rest of Saturday passed agonizingly slowly. I was itching to get back on to the mainland so I could write up a report although I realised with no little irritation that it would be delayed by my agreed visit to The Burrow and seeing George. Why oh why had I agreed to that? It seemed crazy now.

Finally seven o'clock rolled around and I rushed to hand in my room key and to make my way down to the landing point for the boat. I was almost running to get there but I couldn't find it in me to care I was that desperate to leave. The boat seemed to shine in welcome greeting and I was heedless of the other aurors around me this time as I rushed to be the first one on. The journey back passed swiftly but even as I sat on the boat and let Azkaban slip away behind me I could feel exhaustion setting in and I fumbled in my bag for some chocolate. It wasn't a physical exhaustion, there was nothing on the island that was strenuous but emotionally and mentally I felt drained.

I couldn't help but smile as the Scottish beach came into view and I hopped out of the boat even before it had become stationary, ignoring the squawk of outrage from the oarsman as I jogged up the beach and back to the dunes. I took a moment to gather myself before drawing my want out to apparate. It was quite a jump to go from here to The Burrow and given how tired I was I thought it best to do it in stages.

Finally, at a quarter to eight, The Burrow appeared and I felt weirdly warmed to see it. It was a very muggy and warm evening but after the chill of Azkaban I welcomed it. And The Burrow was such a homey and warm place I sped walked up the drive but before I could even knock the door opened to reveal the smiling figure of George Weasley.

I faltered slightly, the familiar fight or flight feelings making themselves known as they always seemed to whenever I saw him, but I swallowed it down.

Friends remember Non. You're only going to be friends.

That made me feel slightly better although I was nonplussed that George hadn't said anything yet. In fact he seemed to be studying my face and I ducked my head down before I could stop myself as I tucked my hair behind my ears.

"Um hi George. Can I come in?"

My question seemed to snap him in to action.

"Of course! Come in, come in, Mum's got food waiting for you. Here give me your coat. How are you? Azkaban not too bad?"

I blinked a few times as I followed him into the house and obediently shrugging out of my coat.

"Azkaban was…Azkaban. It's never nice. I had chocolate on the boat ride back though, that always helps."

George hummed his agreement before he shepherded me into the kitchen where Mr and Mrs Weasley were sat around the table, steaming mugs of tea before them. I eyed the tea jealously.

"Non dear, how lovely to see you."

Mrs Weasley bustled over to wrap me in a hug. I tried my hardest not to tense before I hugged her back but I wasn't sure how successful I was. Mr Weasley was content with greeting me cheerfully from his seat.

"It's lovely to see you too Molly, Arthur. Thanks for having me over."

"Oh nonsense dear you're welcome any time you don't even need to ask. Does she Arthur?"

"Of course not, of course not. Always lovely to see you Non."

I smiled back as I sat down but I was a bit perturbed. Did they actually mean it, or were they just being nice? I couldn't see anything but sincerity in either of their faces though. They really were just nice people. George didn't know how lucky he was to have them as parents I thought as I glanced at him. He'd taken a seat to my left but he seemed content just to sit quietly. Was that normal George behaviour?

"So…so how have your weeks been?"

I lobbed the question out hoping they would latch on to it and carry the conversation. They did.

Mrs Weasley brushed off all my attempts and offers of help as she dished up a soup starter for me followed by a risotto main dish as Mr Weasley regaled us with his tales from work that week. I didn't doubt that at least Mrs Weasley had heard them all before but I chuckled along at all the right places. It was George's turn then to join in with tales form his week.

"Honestly George it wasn't funny. Teaching Teddy to belch the alphabet, I ask you! Andromeda was not at all amused."

I made an absolute mess of disguising my laughter at that and I even earned a disapproving glare from Mrs Weasley in return. I managed to swallow down my mouthful of food.

"You didn't?"

Right I probably should have hidden the delight from my voice there when I asked that as I could hear Mr Weasley snickering into his mug of tea.

"Honestly he's a natural talent Non. Who was I to discourage it? Such creativity should be celebrated."

George's mock earnest expression had me giggling again as Mrs Weasley made an indelicate noise of disagreement and half-heartedly swatted at her son with a tea towel.

"Honestly, what have I raised…"

She moved off muttering to herself and I sat back, full and oh so very sleepy as George and Mr Weasley carried on talking. Perhaps it was the food, or the warmth of the evening or even just the company but my exhaustion seemed to smother me then, like I'd been bound up in a heavy blanket and I couldn't move save for the nodding of my head as I fought off sleep. At the third time of jerking my head back upright I decided that even though it was still early I really, really needed to sleep.

["I know it's early, but would you mind if I went to bed now? I'm a bit tired."]

Very tired actually, I don't know why I didn't just say that. I saw George and his parents cast startled looks between them.

"What was that Non?"

There was a frown on George's face.

["I'm really tired. I need to go to sleep."]

I mean I couldn't get clearer then that right? Apparently I would need to going by the confused looks I was getting. I mean sure it was only just gone nine o'clock but it wasn't unheard of to go to bed that early.

"Do you…do you need some sleep Non?"

I turned to smile gratefully at Mr Weasley. I wasn't sure why he was asking the question given I'd already said it twice but I wasn't going to knock it.

["Oh yes please Arthur. If that's alright?"]

I cast a questioning glance at George then and he seemed completely bemused.

"Er Non, you do know that you're not-"

"Oh enough now George you can see she's nearly asleep in her seat. Follow me Non dear, I'll put you in Ginny's room."

I smiled at Mrs Weasley gratefully as I heaved myself out of my seat. Merlin every part of me felt heavy.

["Good night."]

I gave a half wave to George and Mr Weasley as I left the kitchen and followed Mrs Weasley upstairs. Ginny's room was small with a single bed resting against the far wall beneath a small window. As soon as Mrs Weasley left the room I struggled out of my clothes and into the set of pyjama top and shorts I had in my bag before I collapsed under the covers. For once, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke up briefly at some stage of the night as I was absolutely sweltering. I struggled for a bit to kick off the covers in an effort to cool down but after a few moments I shrugged out of my pyjama top too. I had sweated in my sleep and it was clinging horribly to my skin. As a last measure I opened up the window slightly too but it was such a still, muggy night there wasn't a breeze at all and I groaned in annoyance as I tried to bury my face into the pillow and desperately tried to fall back asleep. Which I suppose, I must have.

"You know what to do."

There was a masked figure in front of me but the voice had come from my right but I couldn't turn my head to look. I hadn't been told to do that.

Take off your clothes.

There was a tiny part of me that remembered that I should try and resist this but my arms and hands were already moving. Soon I was naked. Mocking laughter rang around the room.

"Crucio."

Pain. All I could feel was pain. Shooting down every nerve ending, spasming and ripping through every muscle, every sinew, every part of me. I could hear screaming, a distant, very distant part realising that it was me screaming. My throat was raw.

"Pay attention. See how the body contracts, how the muscles distort? You must know your subject, know how best to inflict the pain. You must mean it. Again."

"Crucio."

"Again."

"Crucio."

"Again. Make her sing"

"CRUCIO"

I felt something inside me snap. And for the first time in what must have been months I could think clearly, only to be greeted by agony. Every part of me burned in excruciating pain. I could feel myself arching from the floor, all my limbs contorted as I screamed, and screamed and screamed. My voice sounded broken. Cracking, breaking, destroyed.

I'm Non Llewellyn.

It was my last, desperate thought before I blacked out.

When I came to I was weighed down by something and I could hear uneven breathing, almost panting in my ear and I shuddered and turned my face away. I hurt so badly, everything hurt and it took me a long moment to realise why I couldn't move. There was someone on top of me, there were hands pawing me.

"A filthy mudblood. Impure. Unclean. You need to be purged. From the inside out. And I'll do it. I'll coat you with my cum. How'd you like that mudblood, hmm?"

He wore a mask but his eyes glittered. I felt terror like I hadn't felt since the imperius curse had been placed on me. I tried to open my mouth to plead, to beg to say no, but no sound came out. My voice was gone. I tried to struggle then but I could hardly move my limbs they were so wracked with tremors from the bouts of crucio I had been subjected to and I felt him laugh. His masked face returned to the crook of my neck as he continued to talk, his hands continuing to explore.

I kept my face turned in disgust, I didn't want to be conscious for this, I didn't want to acknowledge it. I was about to screw my eyes shut, to try and take myself away when they caught on something on the floor beside me. A knife. My heart stuttered. Why did he have a knife? Was raping me not bad enough was he going to torture or kill me too?

I let out a heaving breath, half a sob as he chuckled again at my fear and I desperately thought what to do. I had to get him off me. I had to get him to stop. My arm reached out, slowly oh so slowly as it trembled, my muscles screaming out with pain until finally my fingers could feel it. I had the knife. It was the moment his hands reached the juncture of my thighs that I acted and on instinct. Every fibre of my being screamed out no as I used what strength I had left to swing the knife at him.

It had been a glancing blow and he jolted back with a howl of rage and I realised with despair that I had failed. This was it. I was done. Over. And then something hot and wet hit my face. My assailants howl turned to a gargle as he slumped over me as more and more liquid hit my face. It was coating my nose, filling my mouth and I desperately tried to spit it out. I could taste it now. It was blood. His full weight was on me, his precious pure blood life pumping out and on to me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't spit it out quick enough and I didn't have the strength to move him off me. I was drowning. I was drowning in blood.

"Non, Non wake up. You're having a nightmare. Non!"

I was choking. I was drowning, I clawed desperately at my throat as my eyes snapped open to see a figure looming over me. I shrieked with fear as my heart thumped so loudly nearly all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.

"Non! Shhh Non it's me, it's George."

I froze, my arms still held out to defend myself as I blinked again and shivered.

"George…?"

"That's right Non. You're awake now. You're alright."

"G-George."

My voice broke as I desperately reached for him. I faintly heard him let out a startled cry before his arms wrapped around me and I took a shuddering breath. Safe, I needed to be safe. I needed to not go back to sleep. I needed someone familiar. I needed to not be alone. My eyes darted around the room behind him as I tried to convince myself I was safe in The Burrow, not stuck in some cold room with the Death Eater. The Death Eater I'd killed.

["Please don't leave George, please, please."]

I was crying in earnest now, my voice hoarse as I clung to him. There was a distant part of me watching on in horror that I was breaking down like this, in front of George but it had been so long since I'd had such a vivid memory of that last part, with all of the blood. I shivered and I felt George's arms tighten around me.

There was a creak as the door open and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me. I felt George's shoulders stiffen as he angled me so I was hidden behind his torso.

"Is everything alright?"

I let out a sigh of relief. It was only Mrs Weasley.

"Non's had a nightmare mum, a bad one. Do we have a calming draught?"

"I'm sure we've got one somewhere I'll just go and have a look."

I saw Mrs Weasley's shadow leave the door and George's arms released me although I continued to cling to him. He'd only reached for a blanket though before he draped it over my shoulders as best he could before wrapping his arms around me again. My tears were stopping now but I still couldn't breathe properly as I took gasping hiccupping gulps of air. Mrs Weasley hurried back in the room then with a small bottle in her hand.

"Here Non dear drink this, it'll help you sleep."

I froze. I couldn't go back to sleep.

["No. No please I don't want to sleep, please no."]

I tried to pull myself away from both her and George but his arms tightened around me.

"I don't think she wants to sleep mum. Here leave it with me and I'll sit with her for a bit and then see if she'll take it."

"If you're sure dear…"

Mrs Weasley didn't seem sure herself but she did leave, shutting the door quietly after her.

George moved his right arm then, keeping his left securely around me as he tried to ease the hold my arms had around his neck so he could look into my face. The terror I had been feeling was slowly leaving me but I had so much adrenaline coursing through me I couldn't stop shaking.

"Non, hey Non it's okay. You're alright. Mum's brought a calming draught, it'll help you sleep, no, no don't worry hey" he shushed me quietly as I'd started to shake my head furiously at the mention of sleep. "Look at me Non. There's nothing here that can hurt you. The calming draft will stop you having nightmares."

I tried my hardest to focus on George's face, he was very pale in what little light was coming through the window with his freckles standing out clearly, and it took a few seconds to process his words.

["No nightmares?"]

There was a light frown on his face.

"If you take this, there'll be no nightmares."

I hesitantly nodded my head in agreement. I hoped it would work, I didn't want to close my eyes and slip back into the nightmare where it left off. Merlin, I didn't want to be alone. I shivered again. I had been so alone back then, so very much on my own and I'd been so helpless, so horribly helpless. I'd never wanted to feel like that again but here I was. I could feel myself starting to tear up again.

["George, would you stay with me? Please?"]

I tried to look at his eyes when I spoke but all I could see was a tearful blur. I felt his hand cup my cheek as he tried to wipe some of my tears away and I blinked again to try and bring him into focus.

"What do you want Non?"

I could feel myself frowning. Hadn't I just asked? Maybe I hadn't said it out loud. I cleared my throat painfully and tried again.

["Stay with me. I'll be scared on my own. Please stay? Please?"]

"Do – do you want me to stay?"

I thought briefly that he sounded ponderous but I was so relieved I clasped him tightly around the neck again as I buried my face into his shoulder, nodding furiously and I felt him release a woosh of air.

"Of course Non I'll stay. Course I will. Here sit back a bit so you can drink it."

I reluctantly let go of him as he moved so he could sit by me on the bed and he passed me the potion bottle. My hands were shaking so badly he had to help bring the bottle to my mouth. I hesitated before I drunk to look at him again just to make certain.

["You'll stay?"]

"I'm not going anywhere."

I sniffled a bit before I tipped the bottle up to drink. It only took a few seconds for the potion to kick in and I could feel my eyelids getting heavier before finally there was blessed, blessed nothingness.

A/N: Hello to my readers and new followers. It's so lovely to have you all along for this journey.

And a massive thanks to those of you who have reviewed. I have tried to PM you all where I could. Your words mean so much to me as a writer and encourage me so much. Thank you. I love that you are all getting Non.

This chapter is a bit darker I know but I'm weirdly happy with it. I'd love to know your thoughts. It's very important from a plot perspective so if it wasn't entirely your cup of tea please stick with it. I promise there'll be more George next chapter.

Diolch/Thanks for reading

Yav

P.S. A ctwsh (or cwtch) is Welsh for a hug. But it means a bit more than a hug. It's like a hug but better, like a safe space, a little moment of safety and love. Cwtshes are the best.