Typical Disclaimers Apply

Dedicated to Azrulai

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The girls screamed as the tumbled off of the broom and onto the road. Black tar smashed hard into Esme's head. Pulling herself up, she touched her forehead, feeling blood. "Bloody hell. Tonks, get up, I think I may be injured."

"Yes I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She struggled to her feet and examined Esme's wound. She muttered an incantation and smacked the wand on the tender skin that was covering the wound.

"Ow!" she snapped. "That hurts, you bitch."

"Esme, quiet down!" hissed Tonks. "Someone might…" A light flicked on in one of the houses. Esme's jaw dropped and Tonks looked faint.

"Hear us." A light appeared outside the house. A tall, thin figure slowly moved toward the girls. "Jesus, Allah, Buddha, please don't be a Death Eater," Esme prayed.

They both flinched as the light flashed over them. "Why am I not surprised? Well, I was expecting your father, but you'll do." They looked up, meeting the stern eyes of Minerva McGonagall. She was still dressed in day clothes, despite the impending darkness, and her hair was tied in its typical tight bun.

"My father?"

"He was supposed to arrive here with Fred," she looked off at the skies, "but I suppose you two must have passed them. Has the potion run out, or did neither of you take it?"

"I took it," Esme said, climbing to her feet. Her vision was clearing, and she was swimming in her too-large robes. "So you knew about the plan?"

"Esmeralda," she said sternly, "you may be taking orders from Alastor, but the person leading the Order is the same person who has inherited the title of 'Headmistress.' Now, I have a few questions for you two before I go and owl your Auntie Muriel."

"We were flying to your mum's aunt?" Tonks whispered, looking surprised. Esme narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. Why? Where were you flying?"

"Never mind. You had questions, Professor?"

"Yes. Esmeralda, in what subject were you most proficient in during your education at Hogwarts?"

"I suppose Potions." She grimaced violently, "That man tampered with my grades, though, so my highest marks were in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Severus altered your grades?" she asked curiously. "You should have said something dear. That could have gotten him fired." She turned to Tonks and asked, "What was the reason for your first ever detention?"

"Ohhhh, that's a hard question." She pondered for a moment, "I remember it being an accident….hmm. I believe it was in Potions: I was standing below a rack of ingredients, and the Slytherin boy started insulting me. It was back when my appearance would change with my emotions, and I believe that my hair turned bright red, shot two feet straight up, and shattered the rack. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are correct," she smiled sagely. "Now, let's get you girls inside."

"We may have killed the Lestranges," Esme blurted.

"Oh, really? You'll probably get a medal for that."

"Actually, Rodolphus just fell about fifty feet, and I think Bellatrix may have disapparated mid-fall," Tonks said.

"Killjoy," Esme muttered.

"Well, we can always hope for the best." She ushered the girls into the small house. Esme noticed the lack of pictures or personal items. "We'll wait for your father, Esme, and then you can all leave on the Portkey. It isn't set to leave for another twenty minutes." She left the girls sitting stiffly in what could only be described as a parlor. Esme traced the pattern on a lacey doily as Tonks ran her hand over a gold mirror.

"This doesn't seem like the McGonagall we know," Tonks said softly.

"Seventy-five year old woman with a house full of lace, velvet, and silk? All that's missing are some furry white cats," Esme laughed in her normal voice.

"I heard that!" she snapped from the kitchen.

"Sorry ma'am!" She turned back to Tonks. "Do you think she's really dead?"

She snorted, "Are you kidding? The only person who could take someone like that down is someone of equal or greater insanity," she looked over Esme, "and sorry darling, but you just don't fly."

"She wants me dead, Tonks."

"She wants me dead too, and do you hear me complaining? I'm her fucking niece!"

"Lucius," Esme said, feeling faraway, "the man who raised me, wants me dead too."

"Hey! Now's not the time for you to start moping about the people who want your head on a platter!"

"Thank you for that image."

"You are welcome. You know what? You've got to toughen up. Weakness doesn't work with you! Honestly! You took a broken man's spirit and you molded it into the perfect husband! You frighten the majority of French people! You took a woman who's got to have at least twenty pounds on you in a fight and you kicked her arse!"

"Yeah, I am pretty awesome," Esme said proudly. "I think I heard Dad get in, let's go out and kill some Death Eaters!"

"I think your mother would prefer it if you went home for dinner." Arthur walked into the room, a slow smile curling over his lips.

"Daddy!" Esme jumped out of her seats and into his arms. "I was so…well, I wasn't really worried, I knew you'd be okay."

"And I never have to worry about my girl, I suppose," he laughed. "After hearing that speech of yours…" He looked over at Tonks.

"Come on, you lot! We've got to go now." Fred dashed into the room.

"Oh, Freddy!" Esme cooed, leaping up to hug him.

"Stop for now, Esme. We've really got to go!" They sprinted out back, each taking hold of an old bottle.

"On the count of three," Arthur said calmly. "One, two, three!"

Esme felt like a hook had been pierced through her navel while she was extremely drunk. The world whirled around her, colors blending and bending. She was going to throw up. There was absolutely no way she could keep….it….down…..

And the next thing she knew, she was lying on the grass outside the Burrow, feeling completely fine. "I fucking hate Portkeys!" She groaned and rolled over onto her back. All four of them lay there in complete silence.

"All of you get in here, now!" Molly's voice rang through the emptiness. She sounded panicked, which was an uncommon emotion to see in a mother of eight. Slowly, everyone rose to their feet, Arthur muttering, "I'm too old for this." They staggered inside, each displaying their own version of exhaustion.

Arthur was the first to realize that something was wrong. A small group of people was clustered around a sofa. Hagrid and Harry were there, standing back a bit, and Remus stood by Molly's side, holding something small and pale. George wasn't there.

"George!" Arthur shouted, running to the sofa. Remus opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and walked over to Tonks' side.

"Georgie?" Esme whispered, walking over to the couch. When she caught sight of him; covered in blood and barely breathing, she fell to her collapsed at the foot of the couch, shaking. "My favorite little brother…."

"Esme…." He whispered.

"Oh, George, whatever it is, speak to me!"

"You're….you're crushing my leg."

"Oh I am not. Now say something deep."

"I don't think we need to check if it's her," Remus whispered to Tonks. Molly sobbed and hugged her son, Tonks kissed her husband, and two grown men crashed into the backyard.

"Wow! Thestrals do not fly like broomsticks or motorbikes! Remember that for the future, Esme, it may be important," Esme jumped hearing the familiar voice coming from the back of the room.

"Sirius! Oh thank goodness you're alive!" She kissed him passionately, but then pulled back and swatted him in the chest. "I have to prove you're not a Death Eater! Now, what's a question only you would know?" She stood back, looking thoughtful. "Ooh! I got it! Just what is tattooed on my inner thigh?"

Molly's jaw dropped and Arthur's eyebrows went up. Remus cocked an eyebrow at Tonks who smiled knowingly and nodded. Fred and George laughed audibly and even Kingsley smiled. Harry looked nauseous and Hagrid looked awkward.

"Um, well," he sputtered, "I think we should wait until your mum fixes George's head, don't you think? He does seem to be bleeding quite a lot."

"No, no, it can wait for this," George propped himself up on his elbows and, even though half of his face was covered in blood, Sirius could still see him smirk.

"Really, Esme, isn't there any other question you could ask me? What about what I said on the day I proposed to you? No one knows that."

"Are you kidding? That restaurant was completely silent when you gave your sweet little speech," Esme smiled, remembering. "However, since I never agreed to that ménage a trois idea, you should be the only person who's seen that tattoo. Well, you and Tonks," she nodded towards her friend, "but that's a completely different story."

"If you answer her question," Tonks said tantalizingly, "I'll get Remus to tell everyone what's on the small of my back!"

"You know, Sirius," Remus, the voice of reason, spoke, "you don't have to answer her question. I'm sure I know one from our days at school."

"Shut up, Remus," the girls said together.

"I really don't have any choice, do I?" Esme shook her head slowly. "Alright," he turned around, "I can't face your parents while I say this: The tattoo on Esme's inner thigh is—"

"Harry!" Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were rushing down the stairs. "Oh, we're so glad to see you!"

"Hey, what's wrong with—?"

"Shhh!" Everyone shushed Ron and turned their attention back to Sirius.

"The tattoo on Esme's inner thigh is my prison number…"

"That's not that bad," Hermione said kindly.

"Wait for it," Tonks said, smiling.

"Combined with the phrase, 'Property of Sirius Orion Black. All trespassers will be shot.'"

The silence was definitely cringe-worthy, as Remus whispered tersely, "At least you know she's loyal," before bursting out laughing.

"I wouldn't be laughing so hard, lover-boy," Sirius smirked. "As I recall, you were sworn, by your girlfriend, to tell what's tattooed on the small of her back."

"It's from school!" Tonks giggled.

"Well, I've always kept up the bargains that my friends make." He sighed, "It's a little arrow with the words, 'Stick it in here, and trust me, you'll wake up without it.'"

"It was a bitch to put on myself!" Tonks squealed.

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