Part 4 - Hollow and Dark

The first time I ever woke up with a hangover I thought I was dying. Really, what other explanation could there have been for my head feeling like it was split in half?

"Uuuugh..." I groaned, not yet able to open my eyes, extremely confused as to why I felt so cold, and nauseas, and achy, and just plain miserable.

A long, deep snore rumbled through my pillow, vibrating all the way through my exploding-M80-filled head. A confused, somewhat surreal pause followed, but, sure enough, just a few seconds later another snore hummed against the raw nerve endings and few brain cells that remained inside my skull.

I was confused, and disoriented, and definitely not ready for a full blast of the sunlight that was making my eyelids glow fiery red, so instead I settled for blindly and stupidly groping my pillow. My pillow didn't particularly appreciate that.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" There was a scream that made the exploding M80's suddenly turn into one gigantic nuclear mushroom cloud, and then the pillow slid out from beneath my head. Not ready to support it on my own just yet, I couldn't help letting my poor, abused cranium smack hard against the ground.

"Ooooowwww..." I moaned helplessly, curling up in a ball as I tried to get my stomach to stop churning and the shrill ringing in my ears down to a dull roar. What the hell happened last night? I didn't remember getting cursed, hexed, or jinxed, and I especially didn't recall accepting any questionable-looking sushi from a Chinese man named Leslie selling out of the trunk of his car in the middle of the Mojave desert... from my own experiences, those two unlikely scenarios happening simultaneously were the only thing I could think of to explain the way I felt.

Fuck.

"Stella?" After its brief dereliction of duties, the pillow was apparently once again concerned with my comfort, "Are you alright?"

"If there is one merciful feather in your soft, fluffy body, you will smother me right now," I know it's an odd thing to say, but I'm an odd kind of person. The pillow did not catch on, drawling slowly, "Er... what?"

At no point during this entire exchange did I manage to remember that pillows can't talk.

"Bastard," I muttered, the "d" trailing off into a whimper as my insides cramped violently, tossing about like a leaky rowboat in a hurricane, "If you're not going to keep me from smacking my head on the ground, or even have the decency to put me out of my misery, then you are so fired as my pillow."

A long pause followed, and then, "Are you still drunk?"

Drunkenness! Of course! That would explain the strange sensations I was experiencing! It all came back. Buying the rum. Consuming the rum. Getting drunk off the rum...

But no. No, drunkenness would've been more fun, and I most definitely was not having fun...

"Oh..." I muttered dumbly to myself, "Hangover." It suddenly seemed so obvious. I heard my pillow laugh at me, and then felt a gentle touch on my face brushing hair away from my closed eyes. "Ya," The soft, oddly familiar voice teased, "Hangover. Is it too awful?"

"Definitely," I moaned, suddenly wondering where the twins were, though still not thinking that it was strange for a pillow to be talking, "Now, be a dear and please smother me."

It laughed again, and cooed sweetly, "How about some ice water and chips instead? I remember Charlie telling me that it helped with hangovers."

The mention of food, especially something as greasy and salty as chips (that's fries, depending on what side of the world you hail from), made my stomach just churn. "Ooooh... Are you trying to torture me?" I demanded, clutching at the pain in an attempt to make it stop.

"Of course not, love," The pillow protested, sounding slightly insulted, "Just trying to help." I groaned once more, rather sick of holding a conversation with something filled with feathers.

"Where's Fred?" I asked softly, squirming to try to get the rocks under me to stop cutting into my side, "I'm sick of you. I want Fred. Fred won't torture me with food. Fred is my friend. He's nice."

Another long, awkward pause followed, and then I heard, "Um... Stella, darling, who do you think you're to?" With an indignant huff, I grumbled rather childishly, "Stupid, mean pillow."

And then there was laughter, gales and gales of loud, hysterical laughter that made my head throb painfully. As you've all probably guessed, I was not talking to a pillow. I was talking to Fred, and the bastard still hasn't let me forget this rather embarrassing exchange...

"Sweetie-pie," He teased, dragging me so that I could rest my head in his lap, "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not a pillow. I'm Fred."

"Lies!" I muttered, squirming to get comfortable, which made the pillow suddenly gasp and twitch, "All lies!"

"If you don't stop wiggling," He warned breathlessly, trying to move my head away from his sensitive bits, "You're going to have to deal with Fred Jr."

It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying, and then I had to smack his leg, scolding, "Pervert."

I cracked my eyes open, rolling over and finally gazing past my own blurred vision to see Fred's face hovering above mine. His cheeks were flushed pink, but he had a big grin on. "Am not," He teased, hoisting me up and away from his crotch so that I was now seated next to him, my head on his shoulder, "Are you at least convinced that I'm Fred now?"

"Ya, ya, the one and only," I grumbled, putting my arms around his waist and cuddling up close. We sat like that for awhile, and I just enjoyed how nice he felt, but then I got another intense pang from my abdomen, and moaned as I pleaded, "Freddie, I'm sick. Make it better."

"Mmm," He hummed, gently rubbing my back, "I told you, Charlie says ice water and chips do the trick." As my stomach gave another lurch at the thought of food, I groaned, and buried my face against the redhead's collarbone. "Stop it," I ordered, giving him another light smack, "You're just making me sicker."

"Sorry, love," He laughed, petting my hair, "But that's what he said. How about we start with just the water, eh?" I nodded, answering softly, "Ok... where are we?"

"The woods by your house," He said, gently tugging my wand out of the waist of my skirt, "You didn't want to go back, and I couldn't think of anything else. Aguamenti."

I heard a rush of liquid, and, a few seconds later, Fred pressed a transfigured glass full of spell water into my fingers. With my eyes closed, I hurriedly gulped it down. It was very soothing, and I did feel much better after three or four cups full.

"Thanks," I muttered, resting against Fred's shoulder and suddenly feeling very sleepy. "No problem," He answered, sounding surprisingly content for someone sitting in the dirt, in the cold, in the early morning nursing someone else's hangover. He's always been so sweet.

"What about Georgie?" I pressed, "And the dog? Where are they?" Laughing, Fred started to trace light designs on my arm as he informed me, "George is still passed out, propped up against a tree with his pants around his ankles."

At that odd bit of information, I just had to sit up and see for myself. Sure enough, a few feet away George Weasley was passed out, propped up against a tree with his pants around his ankles. It was just so... him. "Did you do that," I giggled, "Or did he?" Snickering evilly, Fred responded, "Well, as much as I would love to take credit, he pulled this one off all on his own."

"And us without a camera," I joked, still immensely amused by George's predicament, especially when he started trying to run in his sleep, got tangled in his pants, and fell over into the dirt. He continued to sleep soundly.

"And the dog?" I laughed. "Right here," Fred said, shifting to pat a previously unnoticed pile of black fur on his other side. A big, dopey doggy face popped up a few seconds later, a tongue lolling excitedly. Fred gave him a scratch behind the ear, smiling proudly as he stated, "Little guy wouldn't stop following me, and slept on your legs to keep you warm. I guess he must've gone off to take care of a little business after I fell asleep, but he turned back up while you were drinking your water."

"Aw," I cooed, smiling as the dog barked, leapt over Fred, and plopped himself down in my lap, "See, I knew he liked me. Such a good little puppy! Yes you are!" The dog still smelled like the strawberry soap I'd used to give him a bath the day before, and, even as I enjoyed petting him, I couldn't help but thinking back to what happened just after that.

I still had no idea what to do about Remus and Tonks. They'd betrayed me. They'd lied to me. How could I face them again?

And what about my dad? Where was he? Was he safe? Would he come looking for me? Would he remember me? Would he still love me, like he promised?

"Um, Stella?" Fred interrupted, momentarily distracting me from the questions buzzing through my head. I snuggled against his shoulder, answering, "Ya, Freddie?"

"Er..." He drawled, suddenly sounding apprehensive, which made me curious. I looked up into his face only to find that he was blushing slightly. "What's on your mind, Frankenstein?" I pressed, poking him in the side. Since I was definitely starting to feel less violently ill, my usual playfulness was returning.

Fred laughed at my antics, finally seeming comfortable enough to state, "Well, I was just sort of wondering about something you said last night."

"Oh, ya?" I countered, gingerly plucking some newly acquired twigs out of the dog's fur, "I don't remember much, so you'll have to remind me about the part that's got you all thoughtful."

Once more, Fred paused, choosing his words carefully before offering, "You said... you said that you love me... did you mean it?"

"Of course," I answered flippantly, and clear hint of duh in my voice, "You and George are my best friends in the whole world. I love you both like crazy, and if you haven't figured that out by now, then you're really not as smart as I tell people you are."

I laughed when he blushed and quickly defended himself, "Well, I know that. I didn't mean... George said that you had a giant crush on me... did you really?"

It was my turn to blush, suddenly becoming very interested in the hem of my skirt as I murmured, "I wouldn't say giant..."

"So you did!" He exclaimed, sounding both astonished and excited, "Really? How come you never told me?"

"Because," I snapped, "It was just a silly little schoolgirl crush, and I didn't even realize I had it until you killed it." The boy was flabbergasted, immediately demanding, "But how did I-"

"'I don't like her!'" I mocked, doing a rather hilarious job of imitating his crackling thirteen-year-old voice, "'She's annoying, and she's... she's not even pretty!'" Remembering that day as well as I did, he turned red, and ashamed, and dropped his gaze. His words caused a huge fight between us, and I didn't speak to either twin for over two months.

Neither of us paid very much attention to the dog's low, rumbling growl as Fred stated, "I never meant it." Sighing, I soothed, "I know, sweetie. Little boys are stupid and I don't hold it against you. Hearing you say that just made me realize that you didn't have the same feelings I did, and that it was hopeless for me to keep having them, so I stopped."

"So that's it?" He inquired softly, almost disappointed, "You just don't have a crush on me anymore?" I started laughing, amazed by the wildly random timing of the conversation. "Not for several years, nosy," I teased, smirking as I decided to have a little fun with him. "Oh, I see what this is about," I stated devilishly, "You want to play with my new boobs, don't you?"

"WHAT? NO!" He exclaimed, turning bright, bright, adorable red. I don't think I've ever seen him as embarrassed as he was at that moment. However, I couldn't resist having a little more fun. "Why not?" I pouted sweetly, sticking my chest right into his face, "Don't you like them?"

Poor boy gaped like a drowning fish, his mouth working open and closed as he tried to think of what the proper response in the situation would be. After only two seconds, I couldn't help myself anymore and busted out laughing. It made me feel sick again though, so I had to lean on his shoulder to keep myself upright. Totally worth it.

"You're evil," He finally accused, his voice flat as he finally caught on to my joke, "Pure evil." And that's when he jumped on me, and started tickling me like crazy, and we both ended up rolling around in the dirt, laughing in the happy, carefree way we can only laugh when we're together.

"Oooooh," About five minutes of horseplay later, a moan from the other side of the clearing got our attentions. We looked up, and found that George was finally awake, sitting up, holding his head, and seeming to still not have noticed the half-mast state of his trousers.

"Awake, twin of mine?" Fred teased, not bothering to get his bony arse off of me. Moaning in pain, George responded, "Unfortunately."

Still feeling quite evil, I giggled, "Charlie says ice water and chips cure hangovers."

"UUUUUGGGHHHH!" He yelped, jumping to his feet, and, getting tripped by his pants ever few steps, hobbled off behind a tree to empty the contents of his stomach. Fred and I listened to the rather disgusting sounds of retching and vomiting, and then I looked up at him and observed, "Now I can see why you kept doing that to me. It's fun." He laughed and just shook his head.

xxXxx

After we got George properly hydrated, he, Fred, and I made the short trudge back to Remus' cottage. The dog followed for most of the walk, and we mainly discussed what I should name him.

"Maybe something to do with stars," I suggested, keeping a careful watch on the creature because I was concerned about his slight limp. I was already resolving to take him to a vet later, to get him checked out and fixed up, "So that he matches my name, you know?"

"Sorry, love," George grumbled, rubbing his forehead and still not quite as over the hangover as I was, "But I don't think you're gonna find too many male names under that category. All that comes to mind is Twinkle, and I don't think the poor creature would appreciate being called anything of the sort in public."

"Prat," I shot back, giving him a smack on the arm, "My dad's name's a star name, and it's plenty masculine."

"You want to name him after your dad?" George questioned skeptically. I rolled my eyes, "No. It was just an example. Do you have any brain cells left at all?" He simply glared.

"What if your uncle doesn't let you keep him?" Fred asked gently. Suddenly feeling quite furious, I narrowed my eyes, snarling, "What if I wasn't planning on asking?" The boy very quickly put his hands up in self-defense, and dropped the subject.

"OH! I got it!" George exclaimed, turning to me with a happy grin on his face, "You should name him George!"

Fred and I looked at each other, then back at George, and then both plainly stated, "No." The boy pouted, grumbling, "Nobody ever listens to me..."

"Sorry, dear," I soothed, reaching out to put my arms around his thick, freckled neck, "But we can only have one George. Just think about it. If I had to yell, 'George, get off that woman's leg!' or 'George, stop licking your crotch!' no one would know who I was talking to."

"OY!" He protested, pouting quite grumpily as Fred and I laughed, "That's not very nice!"

I was having a good time with my friends, and had almost completely forgotten about everything else. I should've known something was up when the dog suddenly perked up his ears, and then took off running back into the forest. "Hey," I pouted after him, "Where are you going?"

A loud cry of "STELLA! THANK MERLIN!" was followed shortly after by the sound of footsteps rushing towards me. I groaned, and turned to see Remus and Tonks running down the path.

"WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN, YOUNG LADY?" My distraught uncle demanded as he arrived in front of me, immediately grabbing my face in both hands to check for damage, "YOU HAD US BOTH WORRIED SICK! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, RUNNING OFF LIKE THAT?"

"ME?" I shouted, shoving him away, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING NOT TELLING ME ABOUT MY DAD? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?"

Looking absolutely exhausted and exasperated, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stated, "Stella, please, you have to understand that it was for your own good. I know how you feel about your father, and I know you still believe what your mother told you about him, but he is a dangerous man. I couldn't have you going off in search of him."

"He isn't dangerous!" I insisted, absolutely livid by that point, my fingernails cutting into the palms of my clenched fists, "He is a good man! An innocent man! You're his friend, Remus! You probably know him better than I do! Is it really that hard for you to believe he's not the monster everyone else makes him out to be?"

"YES!" He screamed at me, red in the face and madder than I've ever seen him before or since, "IT TOOK ME A HELL OF A LONG TIME TO ACCEPT THAT MY BEST FRIEND WAS A TRAITOR AND A KILLER, AND IT WAS THE HARDEST THING I'VE EVER HAD TO DO! BUT I KNOW THE TRUTH, AND IT'S TIME YOU STOPPED DELUDING YOURSELF WITH THESE CHILDISH FANTASIES AND ACCEPTED IT AS WELL!"

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think. I always knew that Remus didn't believe in my dad's innocence, but he also knew that I did, and had never tried to talk me out of it. Suddenly he wasn't just trying to talk me out of believing in it, he was demanding I stop believing in it. He was calling me a stupid child for having faith in my father's innocence. That moment changed everything between us. Irreparably. Forever.

I couldn't even look at Remus. He suddenly disgusted me. I knew that it wasn't fair, and I knew that we loved each other very much, but I could not deal with him as a person anymore.

Fighting tears, I defiantly met his gaze, snapping shakily, "No." He was immediately taken aback, his expression going from furious to blank in nothing flat. He knew he'd made a mistake, and I knew that he was probably about two seconds away from apologizing when I sobbed, "You're the only traitor, Remus!"

With that, I shoved past him, and Tonks, too, when she tried to stop me, and ran crying into the house.

xxXxx

Remus asked the twins to leave, saying that he was very sorry, but it wasn't a good time for them to have a visit. They were reluctant, but not given much of a choice.

I was still crying, bawling into my pillow, when they came in to say goodbye. "Stella?" Fred called gently, sitting on my bed and running a hand down my trembling back, "Are you alright, love?"

"Peachy," I whimpered, rolling over to tearfully look up into the twins' worried faces. George gave a forced, cheeky smile, tugging on the hem of my too-small skirt as he comforted, "No worries, cutie. Everything's gonna turn out ok."

"Goddamn optimists..." I grumbled, sniffling even as I managed a small smirk. The boys smiled back at me, but the smiles dropped off their faces at the exact same moment.

"Your uncle wants us to go," George informed me, his voice quiet. Instantly, I sat up, shouting, "What? NO! Guys, stay, please!"

Fred gave my hair a slight tussle, and then brushed the tears off my cheeks as he said, "Nah. You know we'd love to, but... you and your family should get things sorted privately. Don't need two pranksters like us around making trouble, do you?"

"But-" I tried to argue, but both redheads simultaneously leaned down and pecked me on either cheek, Fred on the right, George on the left. It's not like that hadn't ever happened before, me giving them kisses on the cheeks, or them giving the same to me, but both at the same time was entirely new. For some odd reason, it made me blush crimson all the way up to my hairline.

The twins shared one of their Looks, grinning from ear to ear before suddenly jumping on me, hugging me tightly, tickling me, and kissing me a few more times.

When they were finally through, I was giggling, and panting, and flushed, lying snuggled between them, comforted by just the fact that they were there. For a few long minutes, we were all silent.

I had my head on Fred's chest, and he was playing with my hair. George had grabbed my legs and put them across his lap and was tracing light designs across my bare skin. It was... nice. I didn't want them to go.

"Boys," Tonks, sporting black hair, called cautiously into the room. I glared at her, and she looked very uncomfortable but still stated, "I've let your mother know you're coming home. There's floo powder on the mantle as soon as you're ready."

"Thank you," They chimed together, sounding rather sad. Tonks gave a nod, then glanced my way. I continued to glare until she left.

"Well, love," Fred sighed, "We'd best be off then." I nodded, but clung tighter to his chest. Neither twin made a move to get up and we sat like that until the sky grew dark.

xxXxx

The remainder of that summer passed in a drunken blur.

After the twins left, I spent only one night actually sleeping at home. The rest I was out drinking until I couldn't remember how scared, angry, and all around miserable I was, and then stumbling back to pass out in the woods.

I stopped laughing. I lost a dangerous amount of weight. I drank a hell of a lot more than was healthy. I put myself in a lot of stupid situations where I could've been raped, beaten, or killed, and it's only by sheer dumb luck that I wasn't.

I only went home a few times a week, and only when I wanted to change my clothes and write the twins. Remus was always there, and he was a mess as well. He didn't look like he was sleeping, and, from the unusual amount of wounds on his body, I could tell his moons were getting worse.

Every time we saw each other, he'd make an effort to talk to me, but I'm nothing if not stubborn, and refused to even indulge him in the most basic of interactions.

Tonks was about the same, except that she was immensely pissed I wouldn't talk to her. "STELLA ERIS BLACK!" She finally shouted one day when summer was almost over. Nearly through attaching a letter to Remus' owl, I glanced over my shoulder, sending a blank, disinterested look at the violet-haired woman before turning back to my task.

"Answer me!" The enraged metamorph demanded, stomping her foot like a petulant child. I ignored her, sending off the owl and then shoving past her into my room to dress.

She followed me. I wanted her to leave, so I tried to glare her out. It didn't work. I wasn't about to let her win though, and shamelessly began to strip out of my three-day-old outfit.

She watched me unflinchingly, her eyes rolling over my naked body, over the sharp points of my ribs and hip bones, and the emaciated hollow where my stomach used to be. Since I wasn't on good enough terms to ask for a shopping trip, all my clothes still didn't fit. My skirts were too short, though the weight loss had helped quite a bit with making them not quite so tight. My shirts, however, still strained along the bust, and only reached to the bottom of my ribs.

Even though I was unhealthy, I was still a bit of a babe, and had a dark tan from spending many long hours sunbathing by the bank of an isolated creek about two miles away. My hair was sun kissed and golden for the same reason. All the unhealthy, destructive things I was doing didn't matter because I was still good looking, and that's what that summer really taught me the importance of anyways.

"Stella," My cousin finally got my attention, her voice considerably softer, "Please, just talk to us. We're really worried about you."

Wordlessly, I left again.

That day was only two before I was set to go back to school, and I was counting down the seconds. I remember that I was didn't feel like going into town that day. It was hot, and the walk was too long. I was still a little drunk from the night before, which I'd spent hanging out in a bar, making eyes at old men until they bought me drinks. I preferred to buy my own alcohol and drink alone, but when I didn't have the money it would do. Like I said, one of the very valuable life lessons I learned that summer was that being hot would get you just about anything you wanted. I am very aware of how shallow it is, but it's not like it's my fault that that's the way the world works.

Anyways, I reeked of cigarettes and booze, so I decided to go to the creek and rinse off.

I could've showered at home, but that would've involved lengthening my visit, which I thought wasn't worth it.

So I turned in towards the forest, and set on my way. About a hundred yards into the trees, just when the house was out of sight, my dog showed up, barking happily as he bounded up to my side.

"Hey, boy," I said, smiling a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes as I patted him on the head. I never did think of a name for him. Nothing quite fit.

He wasn't a pet, more of a companion. I fed him, and took care of him, and he kept me from getting too lonely. He never went near the house with me, and disappeared sometimes, but was usually around for me to talk to.

"Remus and Tonks are worried," I complained to him, rolling my eyes as I continued to walk at a slow, leisurely pace, deeply imbued with the heavy lethargy of an unusually fiery summer. The dog, giving an uncanny appearance of listening, trotted along beside me as I continued, "If they were so damn worried about me, then they wouldn't have lied to me to begin with. This is their own faults, you know? It's not like I'm to blame that no one will believe the truth about my dad."

His ears perking up, the dog butted his head slightly against my leg, prompting me to lay my hand on it and scratch as I mused distractedly, "I could prove it, but I don't know where Mum hid those negatives, and it's so fucking frustrating. I mean, they could be anywhere, and this stupid key doesn't do any good until I know where the hell that anywhere is!"

Almost without thinking, I fished the silver chain that held the key out of my shirt, and regarded the it for a few minutes. Nothing about it suggested the location of what it would unlock. The handle was a frilly, ornamental piece, the shaft smooth, and the teeth small and jagged. I knew the shape of it well enough. I had, after all, been wearing it around my neck since my mum gave it to me. I didn't take it off because I didn't want to risk ever losing it.

With a heavy sigh, resigned once more to the infuriating ignorance I'd always been stranded in, I tucked the key away, and silently walked the rest of the way to the creek.

xxXxx

The morning of September first was rainy and gray and cold. I was severely hungover, but still snuck into the house very early to pack my things. Two minutes of wand swishing later, I was in the floo with my turtle and dog, and off to King's Cross. I didn't bother to say goodbye, or even leave a note, and was quite sure I wouldn't be coming home again.

Since I was so early, the platform was entirely deserted, which gave me perfect opportunity to hide the dog. "Sorry, boy," I apologized to my mutt as I gestured him into an empty compartment in my magically expanding trunk, "But Hogwarts doesn't allow dogs, so you'll have to hide until we get there. Don't worry, you'll love it. There's lots of forest for you to run about, ok? Hop in." And with a bark and one more face lick, he did it. Grinning, I threw a sandwich in, made sure there were proper air holes, and then shut the trunk.

I dragged everything onto the engine, and, as the first student to do so, I got to choose from all the empty compartments. I chose one at the very back, so that no one would bother me, and then went to sleep, figuring that the twins would find me well enough.

A few hours later, I woke up, but not in the way I would have liked. Someone kicked me, hard, and then I hit the ground, harder. After slurring a long string of swears, I sat up to glare at the perpetrator, who turned out to be Harry.

"Oy, little bro," I whined, a bit unnerved by the way he was trying to fry me with his insanely green eyes, "Missed you, too."

He continued to glower down at me, not saying a word, but breathing rather hotly. Immediately resorting to humor in an uncomfortable situation, I sort of began having a conversation entirely with myself, "Nice to see you Harry. Nice to see you, too, Stella, darling. How was your summer? Just lovely, and yours? Oh, pretty shitty, but I won't bore you with the specifics. Looking forward to this year? Definitely. Can't wait for quidditch season to start. We're taking the cup for sure! I don't doubt it, mate. You're brilliant on a broom. Just make sure Wood doesn't work you too hard, or else he'll have me to deal with. No worries, Stel, but I'll be sure to give him a heads up, so just in case you ever come storming straight for him with that fierce look in your eyes, he'll know what it's about. That's awfully nice of you, Harry, dear, but if you give him a warning, then it just won't be as effective. I like the element of surprise, you know? Still, I think it's only fair to make sure the bloke understands what he's getting int-"

"ENOUGH!" He finally shouted, breaking me out of my extremely awkward and strange rambling. His hair was messier than usual, and his face was bright red. He looked so mad, and I really didn't understand why, or even realize at that point that he was mad at me.

"What's on your mind, Frankenstein?" I questioned softly, almost sheepish as I saw his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

"You..." He growled, advancing menacingly, "You're his daughter!"

And then it clicked. "I suppose you mean Sirius Black," I muttered, dreading this conversation, and the fact that I already knew hot-headed Harry probably wasn't going to let me get a word in edgewise, and that even if I did manage to he wouldn't believe me.

"Yes!" He screamed, "Who the bloody hell else would I be talking about than the insane killer who's after me? All these years, you've been pretending to be my friend to make it easier for him to get to me, haven't you?"

"HEY!" I snapped, pissed at the accusation, finally hoisting myself up off from the ground and getting face to face with the raven-haired teen. I was much taller than him now, and there was a split second of shock in his expression as he had to adjust to glare up at me instead of down "I didn't pretend anything!" I shouted, vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione in the doorway, "I am your friend, and my dad isn't after you! He didn't kill anyone! He was framed!"

Clearly not expecting that kind of argument, the boy looked at me like I was entirely insane. "You're a bloody nutter!" He declared wildly, sputtering like a fish, "I always thought you were a bit off, but you are a complete bloody nutter!"

"No I am not!" I countered, scowling as I fished my key out of my shirt. For a brief moment, Harry seemed to forget all of his righteous indignation and took a quick peek at my cleavage. It calmed him down a bit, so I'm not complaining. Add "they pacify those with anger management issues" to the long list of reasons why having boobs rocks.

"See," I said, showing him the key, "I have proof. Or, I will, as soon as I find out what this opens."

Again, I got the nutter look, but then the boy got angry once more, and shouted right in my face, "YOU'RE INSANE! STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" And then he stormed out.

I was left utterly, utterly shocked, and brokenhearted. He'd rejected me, finally, like I'd always feared, and the reality suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: I was all alone. I'd alienated all the few family I had left. Tonks was gone. Remus was gone. Harry was gone. That was that.

Very slowly, shaking convulsively, I managed to close the compartment door, and shut the curtains, and cast the room into darkness. I opened my trunk, fished out a bottle of whiskey I'd stowed away, and then opened up to a different compartment to check on the dog. He was fine, sleeping soundly, and apparently having a dream where he was chasing something. So cute.

Assured that he was fine, I sat back onto the padded bench, and started drinking.

About a half hour later, I was still alone, and very drunk, and the train lurched to life with such force that I was almost thrown onto the floor once more. I was definitely past buzzed, but not quite as inebriated as I would've liked to be.

The door suddenly flew open, a dim beam of light falling across my eyes. I groaned, "Close the bloody fucking door, arsehole!"

"There's our little ray of sunshine!" The unmistakable voice of a twin joked excitedly just before I was pounced upon. The same voice coming from a different twin added, "We missed you soooooooo much!" And then I felt him jump on me, too.

"Missed you oafs as well," I grumbled, suddenly fighting a slightly giddy smile despite the fact that I still felt unbelievably depressed. The twins just have that power over me. However, it didn't last. They both suddenly tensed against my body, and sat up to give me hard, calculating looks. With the swish of a wand, the lights came on, and then there they both were.

Immediately, both sets of clear blue eyes went wide, and both their mouths dropped. "Stella," Fred gasped, kneeling beside me as he let his hand come up to cradle my thinned out face, "What happened, love?"

"You're a skeleton," George contributed, kneeling beside Fred, and purely in awe as he lightly ran his fingers over the exposed ridges of my ribs.

"Don't know what you're on about," I grumbled, lying back and bringing the bottle of whiskey to my lips for another long gulp. It's safe to say that the shocked looks got a lot more shocked looking. "Are you out of you mind?" Fred yelped, jumping up to shut the door of the compartment, which I'd neglected to notice was standing wide open, "Drinking on the train?"

With a shrug, I merely stated, "I drink everywhere else, so why the fuck not?" George gave an uncomfortable, forced little chuckle, but Fred glared at him, and it stopped in an instant. "This isn't funny," Fred growled, extremely serious as he ran his fingers through my longish, shaggy, gold blonde hair, "Love, you're a wreck. What's going on?"

"Bit of everything," I answered, sighing as I laid back and shut my eyes. I heard the boys moving about, and then found myself with my head in Fred's lap, and my legs lying across George's. "Talk to us," George suggested softly as he ran his hand up my calf.

"I can't go back home, Harry hates me, and, oh ya," I grumbled sarcastically, "My dad's still a fugitive." It was a horrible statement to make, but Fred's fingers combing softly through my hair felt very nice, nice enough to make me not notice when he gently tugged the whiskey bottle out of my hand and hid it in his own trunk. I was annoyed later when he wouldn't return it, but, at the time, nothing registered.

"Well, love," George finally reported, clearly trying to get me to cheer up and at a complete loss for what else to say, "I guess that just means we're about to have an interesting year." He was very tragically right.

xxXxx

I sat with the twins like that for several hours. We were all silent. They didn't know what to say to make me feel better, and I didn't know if there was anything they could say. I was falling apart, caving in on myself because I felt utterly hollow. Something bad was on its way, and I didn't expect to survive it. I didn't necessarily want to die, but didn't anticipate lifting a finger to save myself if the day ever came when that would be needed.

About halfway into the journey, the train came to a sudden, abrupt halt. Still buzzed off the whiskey, I probably would've fallen on the floor again had the twins not caught me. Hmm, that reminds me, I should thank them for that...

"What's goin' on?" George asked groggily, cuing me in to the fact that he'd probably been at least half asleep. Fred, on the other hand, was wide awake, and wired, and declared, "Train's stopped."

"Thank you, captain obvious," I groaned, slowly getting to my feet. The lights snapped off, casting the compartment into complete darkness. I was still dizzy, and the two factors together made me feel totally disoriented. I swayed and almost fell, but Fred was right there behind me, steadying me with strong hands on my hips.

I looked at him over my shoulder, seeing him smile and blush in the dark, and I couldn't help but smile and blush back. It felt good like that.

Of course, if life has taught me one thing (aside from that nice boobs will get you whatever you want), it's that good will never last.

The room got cold. I could hear the glass on the windows freezing, a delicate crackle that sent shivers down my spine. Fred held me closer, but it didn't do very much good to chase away the chill and terror that were already taking hold of both our bodies. In the air in front of my face, I could see every breath either of us took hanging in a gray-on-black cloud of frost. I didn't know what was happening, but I was very scared of it all the same.

I would've preferred the door to fly open in one burst, to just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid, but, instead, the latch clicked with an excruciating slowness and the wood panel was slid open, inch by grating inch, to reveal nothing but a deep darkness of abyss beyond.

I could hear Fred breathing hard in my ear, but he was gradually drowned out by the sounds of ragged, inhuman... creatures. Creatures in the dark. Of the Dark.

I really wanted to believe that I was hallucinating, or just having a bad dream, but Fred felt so real that I knew that that wasn't the case.

I think I whimpered like a frightened animal as I felt the first of them float into the compartment, black-hooded, skeletal wraiths with ink-blood fog seeping out from beneath their shredded cloaks. My ankles disappeared in the darker than dark, blood of the dark fog. They felt numb, but I could still sense every bit of good left in my wretched body being sucked on, hot marrow being stripped from my bones while I still lived and breathed, while the fog crept higher.

Blood pounding in my temples erased all other sound. The numbness negated Fred's caring touch. He didn't feel real anymore. Nothing did. Breathing no longer seemed important. The fog entered my lungs and stayed. There was a cold, corpse-like claw on my throat.

I might just be strange, but it wasn't entirely bad, almost a high: an opiate in my system that fed off me, that sent me soaring into the darkness even as it damaged everything that I was. I knew the creatures were hurting me, feeding off me and poisoning me at the same time. I felt cold. I didn't care. There was darkness inside me long before that moment, a little chipped spot where a seed of it had taken root, and it was suddenly spreading through my hollow insides like a rabid, flesh-eating virus. My pupils blew to black circles that erased the color in my eyes, and I could feel my skull pulsating. The darkness took me. I fell slow into it, both bitter and sugary, like molasses, and I welcomed its cold embrace. For a long, long time, there was nothing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Well, sports fans, hope you liked it.

The Surgeon General recommends writing five to ten reviews a day in order to improve colon health.