Author's Note: Once again, it's been awhile. This chapter's short, and told in Fred's POV. I don't own Harry Potter's world, just the Smiths. :)

Reviews :)

"Something creaked downstairs." (page 135, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)

CHAPTER 5

After Harry's rushed birthday dinner, Fred lingered by the door. The Delacours retired early, with the reasonable excuse that there would be much to do with the wedding the next day. George was helping Hagrid set up his tent for the night. Mrs. Weasley and Harry and Hermione went about getting rid of the decorations and setting the garden back to its newer immaculate state, while Ron and Ginny did the dishes. Mr. Weasley was talking in low voices with Charlie and Bill.

It looked almost normal, Fred mused, if it weren't for the fact that everyone was so tense. Harry and Hermione kept throwing each other glances, while Ron scrubbed quickly, and somewhat clumsily, at the dishes.

"Done!" he cried the moment the last dish was washed and ran upstairs to his room. Ginny rolled her eyes at Fred as he walked into the kitchen.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he too headed up the stairs, though he was much slower about it than Ron.

Hermione stayed downstairs and helped Ginny with the dishes—Ron, in his hurry, had missed several spots and half the dishes had to be rewashed.

Fred lazed around, seeming to do nothing in particular. His mind, on the other hand, was whirring. His thoughts were not really focused on whatever his brother and his best friends were up to, but rather on someone else.

At last, the girls finished and Hermione made eye contact with Ginny, who nodded once, and Hermione disappeared upstairs.

"Wish I had some Extendable Ears at this point," Fred muttered. But he might as well leave the trio alone for now; he and George were sleeping in Ron's room, too.

It was a bit weird that he was not scheming new pranks. With a wedding only hours away, it was the perfect time to play a brilliant practical joke. He and George had been planning for days, until Mum had made them take an Unbreakable Vow so they wouldn't play any "nasty tricks."

No, Fred, instead, was worrying about the latest owl he had received from Emily Knobbins. According to the former secretary to the Minister of Magic, Ella was not doing well. Whether it was the effect the dementors had had on her or what Fred had revealed to her, she had been brooding since Monday.

"She went back to her school today. I don't know how it's going to go. I hope her friends and work will distract her, but I've got an awful feeling she's going to explode. Molly says that Ella's been having the most terrible nightmares—she's been screaming and shaking in her sleep, but doesn't seem to ever wake up from them…"

Fred swore under his breath as he re-read the letter. He had come too close to losing George this week, and now there was a good chance he was going to lose Ella. Dumbledore had warned him that there would be a certain point where Ella would snap and all hell could break lose. He had predicted that it would happen after she became of age, because not having an outlet for her power could prove deadly, either for herself or the Muggles she was surrounded by. And if she was holding up a lot inside of her, just brooding and hoarding her emotions, there would be an explosion. Dumbledore reckoned that she would have a few minor ones at first…

Fred couldn't make up his mind. He desperately wanted to fly back to Surrey to try to talk to her again, but with the wedding tomorrow and everyone on edge about You-Know-Who… And wasn't she safer as a Muggle, away from all this? …No, You-Know-Who believed all Muggles were inferior to magical folk, that they had their place beneath pure-blood wizards. And she was a pure-blood witch, though a blood-traitor Weasley. And if she was unknowingly using magic, how much longer until someone caught her or she hurt someone? Fred's internal debate went back and forth, back and forth, faster than an international Quidditch match.

He looked at the clock. All nine hands were pointed at Mortal Peril.

He sighed, thinking. Poor Mum. She's going absolutely batty.

He reached up and touched the hands. He yanked on his own, trying to make it point at Home. But it wouldn't budge; they never ever budged, even if two boys grabbed the same hand and jumped. He chuckled to himself, remembering when he and George had tried to point Ron's hand at Lost when Ron was three. Just for kicks and giggles.

Then, a thought struck him. Was there a hand for Ella? Standing on tiptoe, he peered closely at the centre where all the hands were fastened. But no, there was only nine. Not even a space between George's and Ron's to suggest there was another person born. But wait—there tucked into the corner—was a glimmer. Something gold was hidden back in one of the crevices of the clock. Fred reached for it.

"Fred, what are you doing to my clock?!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley.

Take by surprise, Fred slammed back on his heels, almost losing his balance.

"Err, nothing."

Mrs. Weasley's glare faded away as she looked at the clock. She smiled softly at him.

"It's alright, love. Now, go on to bed. We've got entirely too much to do tomorrow for you to be lazing about."

"Yes'm," Fred kissed her cheek and headed up the stairs. He looked behind him and saw his mother still standing before her clock, a tear threatening to leave her eye.

He swallowed hard. After the wedding, he vowed, I'll bring Ella here, for Mum. Give her something happy to cry over.

He passed Ginny's room, and saw she was sitting there, staring out the window. No Hermione. Must be in Ron's room, he thought.

He didn't go up to the attic room though. He went to his and George's room, temporarily Charlie and Bill's. He stretched out on his bed, trainers and all, forgetting his mum's warnings not to dirty the linens with their shoes.

Tired, he must have drifted off because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake.

"You've got an owl, Fred."

"WH—what?" Fred shook his head to clear the sleep from his brain.

"You. Have. An. Owl. Slow enough for you?" Charlie repeated.

"Oh, shove off, Dragon-Boy," Fred growled as he sat up on the bed.

Charlie chuckled as he slid into the bed. "Just be careful, Mum and Dad bunked down early in the sitting room. It's outside the kitchen door. And be a good lad, and go to where you're supposed to be sleeping."

"What happened to Bill's surprise bachelor party?" Fred asked.

"Mum nixed it. Said it was too dangerous to bring anyone here with Harry here and all."

"Well, how are you supposed to have a proper bachelor party when the bride and her parents are here, anyways?"

"Dunno. We had our own little gathering two nights ago, though. Over at the Leaky Cauldron, just the odd friends from Hogwarts and what-not."

"And didn't invite George and me? Git. I mean, c'mon, I know Ron's still a baby…"

"Mum said no. She said you weren't the proper age and couldn't handle anything other than butterbeer, and she didn't want to think about the two of you having fire-whiskey. Especially not after your Order business. We couldn't go if you were coming."

Fred grumbled.

"Get over it, Fred. You'll have your share of bachelor parties before you snuff it. Now, go on. Go answer the bloody owl before it wakes Mum up."

A brown Burrowing owl awaited him, hopping around outside. Fred recognized it immediately as Emily's. Snatching the letter, he opened it, not noticing that the owl flew off.

"Fred, I was right. She had a terrible row with Charlie at school. She blew out one of the school windows, sounds like. I'm going to talk with her right after I send Bart to you. I won't tell her anything about your family, but I think I'm going to try to convince her that she's got to accept that magic is real. Come over at once. It'll take Bart about an hour to get from Surrey to Devon, so hopefully that'll give me to time to talk her round. –Emily"

Fred swore so badly if his mother had heard him, she would have in such a state of shock she would have needed a few minutes to recuperate before she could take him to task for his language.

Hang it all, he was going over to the Smiths tonight.

He went back inside, closing the door as quietly as possible. He heard his mum mumble in her sleep, something about seating arrangements. Pausing, he waited until she quieted again before climbing the stairs. He snuck back into his room, where both Bill and Charlie were passed out, and found a jumper and gloves. Grabbing his wand off the bedside table, he shoved it into his back pocket.

He left the room, carefully. He paused on the step to the attic room, debating whether he was going to ask Ron to borrow his broom. He could steal George's broom, but he almost felt like it should be Ron's. He could just take one broom, but he wasn't sure his old Cleansweep 5 could hold two people.

The second step creaked as he put his foot on it. No, he decided, Ron wouldn't notice it. His younger brother was too involved with Harry and Hermione to notice. Fred stood on the step for a moment, waiting for the step to settle again before he dismounted.

He heard soft footsteps above his head, that traveled from Ron's room down to Ginny's. Hermione had panicked with the squeak, Fred figured.

He turned and hurried out into the night. Checking his watch, he saw that it was only half past nine, and the light was only now beginning to fade. It would take him roughly an hour and a half to get to Little Whinging by broom, which was why generally he just used Floo Powder to get to Emily's and walked over to the Smiths. Most of his time would be spent flying in the dark. Not the best idea, but he didn't dare steal the car.

Quickly, Fred hurried to the shed and, after a quick jiggling with a pick, the door sprung open. Grabbing his and Ron's broomsticks, Fred kicked the door of the shed shut. He flicked his wand and the padlock snapped shut.

"Where you off to?" asked George, appearing out of the darkness.

"Nowhere," Fred said quickly.

"Liar."

Fred smirked. "Maybe."

Fred hadn't been able to tell George about Ella. It was the one thing that he and George didn't share, and it hurt not tell his twin everything. But Dumbledore had made him swear to tell no one until Ella was restored to the Weasleys.

"C'mon, Fred. You've been hiding something, what with disappearing Monday night. Mum wigged out."

"Did she? Maybe we should invest in new head-wear for her."

"Har-dee-har-har," George rolled his eyes. "Fred, that was dreadful."

"Says the holey one."

George immediately reached up to touch where his ear had been. His lips twitched into the ghost of the smile.

"Look, George, I'll explain when I get back."

"It's not a girl, is it?"

Fred laughed. "Caught me. It's a set of twins. Keeping 'em all to myself."

"Greedy, selfish twot!" George jokingly swung at him. "Well, alright. If you're keeping hush, I won't stop you. But be careful, Fred."

"I will. Don't worry."

People often told him they never had seen he and George be serious, but when they were together, and not planning pranks, they could be quite solemn. For maybe ten minutes, Fred thought. He and George both re-entered the house. George shook his head as he climbed the stairs to the attic-room.

Fred watched him go, shuddering as he caught a glimpse of the dark hole on the side of George's head. Another inch over and Fred would have been twin-less.

He couldn't imagine living without George. How does Ron do it? he used to wonder, even with Dumbledore's explanation of the complexities of magical twins. He shook the thought aside; Ron would know soon enough what it was like.

He was headed to the back door, when the kitchen clock caught his eye again. He remembered the glimmer, and now away from his mother's prying, he took a closer look at that bit of gold. With much wiggling and pinching and twisting of his fingers, he managed to drag the shiny object into the open air, bringing with it a bit of dust.

He held another golden clock hand. Cedrella Isla Weasley was carved into it. There was a little pink ribbon tied around it, but nothing else. Fred clutched it harder into his hand until his knuckles turned white.

Holding it in his fist made it all the more real. Clenching his jaw in determination, he stuck the hand bearing his other sister's name into his jeans pocket, ran out of the kitchen, and took off into the night.

I can't promise that I will be updating very soon, but I'm working on the next chapter, don't worry. Be patient with me!