Part 6 - My Tentative Hold on Sanity

The title says it all. I was cracked. Crazy. Unwell. Imbalanced. Take your fucking pick, cuz I was called all that and more.

After my little base jumping incident, I laughed my way through an entire day of getting screamed at by everyone. The twins were shaken. Uncle Remus was horrified. McGonogall was furious. Dumbledore psychoanalyzed me. That was scary. All his ink blots looked like demonic rodents who were going to jump out of the cards and kill me, and he seemed very disturbed when I told him so.

And, once again, no one wanted to believe a word that came out of my mouth. I tell them my dad is innocent, they tell me I'm in denial. I tell them Peter Pettigrew attacked me in an alley, they tell me I'm a drunk with a wild imagination. I tell them I didn't try to kill myself, they tell me I need therapy.

"Why?" I demanded, glaring across Dumbledore's desk at him, sucking on a handful of lemon drops even though I hate lemon drops. I'm a chocolate girl, all the way.

My amateur, wannabe psychiatrist gave me a very concerned look, stating softly, "Because we only want to help you. Your actions suggest you are not well."

Rolling my eyes, I asserted hotly, "I told you guys already, I wasn't trying to kill myself! That's just stupid! Helga Hufflepuff was narcoleptic! It was a history experiment! Just ask that little big-haired girl! Why won't anyone listen?"

"Tell me about your mother," Dumbledore instructed, his voice quiet but stern, blue eyes wet behind half-moon glasses. I stared blankly, gaping, "You can't be serious."

He was.

Therapy with the headmaster.

Fuck.

xxXxx

I'd abused the Marauders' Map, and, to the twins, that was like breaking the holiest of commandments. It was sacrilege. They started looking for ways to safeguard its powers from me.

Halloween was the first time I became suspicious of the plan. After a few weeks of complete sobriety, therapy with Dumbledore, and getting pestered by fucking everyone, I was ready for a break. Using the holiday as an excuse, I suggested we all sneak into Hogsmeade that night for some fun.

"Stella," Fred sighed, nervously threading his fingers through his hair, "No. That's not a good idea."

Pouting, I pleaded sweetly, "Aw, come on, Freddie. It'll be really easy, and we'll have a blast! You, me, Georgie, general merriment."

He glared. He'd been upset since the jumping thing, as well as the sneaking off to get drunk thing, the not talking about it thing, and the going through his stuff thing. His anger had been festering. It blew up. "No, you mean you and another bottle of rum, right?" He demanded, pushing me away from him and storming into the Great Hall for breakfast. I was stunned. Fred never talked to me like that.

Hardly believing that he'd just said that to me, that he'd acted that way to me after being nothing but kind and funny for all the years I'd known him, I turned to George for an explanation. The other twin shrugged, muttering, "Sorry, love. He doesn't mean it. He's just worried about you... we both are."

"I'm fine," I hissed through clenched teeth. I was getting so sick of those two words.

"I'm sick of hearing that from you," Occasionally I can't help but wonder if that boy has some sort of ESP, "Especially when I know it's a lie."

Having people who know me well enough to read me like a book is sometimes a curse. I sighed, letting my head drop to his shoulder as I muttered, "George, I love you, and Fred, but I don't think either of you really understands this anymore."

"That's because you won't give us a chance to," He soothed, putting a hand at the small of my back, "You don't talk to us, love. You still haven't told us who attacked you, or why you... jumped..." I closed my eyes, responding, "I know. I'm sorry... I guess I'm just afraid you'll suddenly decide to be like all the other idiots in this place and not believe me. I don't think I could handle that."

"We're allowed to not believe you?" The redhead asked with a joking incredulity that gave me a totally eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't I had this exact conversation before?...

Smacking him lightly, I laughed as he guided me to sit beside him at the Gryffindor table. We were both across from Fred, who was very busy scowling into his porridge.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, then gave a watery smile, offering, "So, darling, what do you want for Halloween?"

After fixing me with a curious look for a few moments, he finally caught on, whispering seriously, "I want you not to drink so much, and to talk to us about what's bothering you."

"Ok," I responded instantly, "You got it." Fred's excited smile made me feel really good for the first time in quite a few months. "Really?" He pressed, a little skeptical. When I nodded, he grinned, then frowned and added, "No more jumping off of stuff, either."

"Aw, come on," I teased, "I've already established that the charm still works, so what's the big deal?" His blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and he growled, "Because you didn't tell us you were testing a charm. I thought you... I thought I'd lost you. I couldn't take watching it again."

The joke suddenly wasn't funny anymore. I hadn't realized that Fred was so deeply upset over what happened. With a sheepish smile, I agreed, "Ok. I promise." He nodded, and looked back down into his porridge, but I wasn't quite finished. "Fred," I stated, getting his attention again before adding sadly, sincerely, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I wasn't... I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I just wasn't thinking straight, you know? Near death does strange things to a girl."

Both twins narrowed their eyes, growling together, "We're gonna find whoever did it, and make him pay." See, didn't I tell you they were sweethearts? Leaning my head on George's shoulder, I smiled, and said, "In the meantime, since we're not sneaking back into Hogsmeade tonight, I say we use the daytrip to get some supplies, and plan a little Halloween present for our fellow students."

Their murderous, brooding expressions turned to sneaky little smirks, and everything seemed right with the world.

xxXxx

On the way out of the Hall, we ran into Harry. He still wasn't speaking to me, convinced our two years of friendship were actually an elaborate con to give my dad an easier time of killing him (and people say I'm the paranoid one). From the twins' badgering of Ron, I'd at least learned that my little godbrother didn't know the supposed role my dad had in the deaths of his parents. Small blessings, I suppose.

"Hey, Bro," I greeted with a sheepish smile, "Wanna walk to town with us?"

"No," He snapped grumpily, glaring, "I told you to stay away from me. What, are you trying to lure me into a trap or something?" Taken aback, my feelings deeply hurt, I murmured weakly, "No... I just wanted to talk to you..."

"Prat," The twins spat together, each putting a comforting arm around me. "Watch your mouth when you're talking to our girl," George warned crossly. Already steering me away, Fred gave Harry a harsh shove as he growled, "And shut up about things you don't understand." Sigh. My heroes.

We were halfway to Hogsmeade before anyone said anything, and then it was, of course, George. "You alright, Stel?" He asked softly, giving my waist a little squeeze.

"I'm fine," I sighed. Both twins glared, and I rolled my eyes, remembering that they didn't like the "fine" response. "Ok, ok," I grumbled, "You've made your point. I'm not fine, but I'll live."

"Let's make the Three Broomsticks our first stop," Fred suggested, his blue eyes closely watching my forlorn face, "We'll get a butterbeer, and a private room, and we can talk, ya?" Leaning my head on his shoulder, I agreed jokingly, "Ok, but only if I can have a real beer."

He pinched me. Hard. "OW!" I shrieked, jumping out of his and George's embraces, "WHAT THE HELL?"

"YOU PROMISED!" The irate redhead shouted, his face turning to a very deeply displeased shade of purple. Suddenly feeling guilty but annoyed, I rubbed the stinging spot on my side and snapped, "I know! I was only joking!"

"Well, you shouldn't joke about that! It's not funny!" He returned, significantly calmer and just a little embarrassed, threading his fingers through his hair as he growled, "You're making me crazy here, Stel."

"Alright, sorry," I pouted, lifting my shirt to examine the stinging pinch on my side, "Fuck, Freddie. That really hurt."

His blue eyes fell to the forming bruise, and then he knelt down in front of me, settling his broad hands on my hips. "Here, let me see," He muttered, turning me slightly. When he saw the damage, he looked absolutely horrified, staring up at me wide-eyed as he gasped, "I'm so sorry, Stel. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's ok, I know," My answer was more breathless than I would've liked, and I suddenly found myself transfixed with his blue, blue eyes, and the painfully cute spattering of freckles along his cheeks and nose. Shaking my head to snap out of it, I added quietly, "Just smarts, is all."

Very disturbed by my reaction to Fred, I tried to step away, however, before I could, he tugged me back, holding my shirt up, keeping my side and most of my stomach exposed. After hesitating briefly, he leaned in closer and placed a soft little kiss on my skin, his lips lingering as he breathed, "There, all better."

My face turned red hot, even more when he tipped his head back and shot me an impish grin. I got butterflies low in my gut and immediately began to panic. Fred Weasley was not supposed to give me butterflies. He was my best friend, and I was so over the little crush I had on him... wasn't I?... oh fuck... fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck...

"If you two are quite done," George cut in, sounding bored, as well as annoyed at having been left out of the exchange, "Can we please get going?"

I cleared my throat loudly, pulling away from Fred and trying to plaster on a smile as I conceded, "Ya, ya, god forbid Georgie have to entertain himself for a lousy two minutes."

"My thoughts exactly!" The boy stated, shooting me a self-satisfied smile. I rolled my eyes, giving Fred a hand up as I announced, "You brother is an odd one."

"I know," He responded, smiling and slipping his arm around my waist again, "I had to share a womb with him for nine bloody months."

I giggled into Fred's shoulder, more when I heard George stomp along in our wake, pouting, "You were no picnic either, fat arse..."

xxXxx

"So..." I drawled awkwardly, peering at the twins over the top of my half-empty bottle of butterbeer. We were in a small, private room at the back of the Three Broomsticks, courtesy of Rosmerta, who loved all of us dearly and couldn't deny us anything. We'd been sitting in silence for quite some time, and I knew the twins wanted me to talk, but it didn't sound like very much fun so I was stalling for time.

"Wanna start from the beginning?" Fred suggested helpfully, practically squirming with curiosity. I nodded, and took a deep breath, and stared into my bottle as I hastily told the whole story, about getting frustrated by my roommates, and then Cormac, finding the map, sneaking out, drinking, stumbling back, the dog defending me from the stranger, getting tackled and strangled, finding out the stranger was Peter, him demanding the negatives, getting saved by the dog again, the rat, running, screaming, ending up back in the hospital wing, no one believing me, crying to Percy, then Hermione's odd comment that made me break with reality. I even tried to explain my reasons for jumping, how I did it to give myself hope, to prove that the laws of gravity really didn't apply. Needless to say, by the time I was through they were both shocked into speechlessness.

"I'm crazy, right?" I mumbled sheepishly, suddenly very worried about what the twins thought of me.

"Not at all," George soothed, immediately dragging his chair to my side of the small table and taking one of my hands. He smirked, amending, "Well, maybe a little, but not in a bad way, in a way that we love dearly, and wouldn't change for the world."

I giggled, barely even noticing Fred until he put his arms around me, hugging me tightly as he muttered, "You went through a lot, and had a hard time dealing. It's understandable. We're just glad you made it back to us in one piece. Don't do it alone next time. We're here for a reason, you know?"

"I love you guys," I sighed, leaning against Fred. I felt the boy chuckle, and added, "No, really. I don't know how you do it, but you two always make me feel better. Thank you."

"It's a gift," George declared, leaning over to give me a big ole smooch on the cheek, "And there's no need to thanks us, love." Squeezing me tightly against himself, Fred agreed, "Ya, we like seeing that pretty smile of yours." He ended the comment with a big, cheeky grin and a small kiss on the tip of my nose.

And that is when I began to cry, turning to hide my face in Fred's soft shirt as my arms circled his neck. He tightened his grip on my shaking body, cradling me as he inquired worriedly, "Stel? What's the matter?"

I sniffled, and hiccupped, and sobbed, "I-I'm just... scared... I'm really, really scared."

George put his arms around me as well, and I found myself closed safely between the twins. They held me like that, silently allowing me to cry and then calm myself down. When that had finally happened, I whimpered tiredly, "Sorry, guys... I hate being this way, but I can't seem to help it."

"No worries," George soothed, rubbing my shaking back, "You'll be fine eventually."

"Ya," Fred agreed, resting his cheek on the top of my head, "You're too damn stubborn not to be." That finally got a weak laugh out of me, and I think we were all glad for it. I love those two so much. Maybe everything would be ok after all...

xxXxx

After finishing our butterbeers, we paid Rosmerta and then wandered out into the main drag of Hogsmeade once more. I was feeling much better, and I believe the twins were as well. I hadn't realized just how much me not telling them something had thrown off our friendship until everything was restored to normal. We were laughing, and joking, and just having the best time.

I was looking around for my dog, but he never showed up. It was strange, but I didn't think anything of it. He could take care of himself now that he was healthy and boisterous again.

Our next stop was, of course, Zonko's, where we began plotting our Halloween prank and buying up the necessary ingredients. We ended up with a bag of enchanted fireworks, two pails of super-permanent pink sparkle paint, a few packets of dehydrated giant Chinese fire salamander eggs (Just add water for slimy, incendiary fun!), and a large box of live billywigs, fresh from Australia.

It was a lot more than we could afford, but, since Mr. Zonko absolutely loved us, he cut the price in half in exchange for our agreeing to test out a batch of prototype gag candies. We always did stuff like that for him, and we always had fun doing it.

After ushering us into the back, he brought out a tray that held three small, bright purple hard candies. "Here you go, kids," He beamed, offering it out, "One for each of you, and just let me know what you feel."

Laughing as I took mine, I responded, "'Course, Mr. Z. Jeez, you act like we've never been lab rats before!" George reached out and scooped up two, handing one to Fred as he stated, "Right. Me and Forge have been our own test subjects since we were five and broke into Bill's potion ingredients."

With a snort, Fred recalled nostalgically, "Ah, good times. We accidentally came up with Punching Pasties and knocked out all our front teeth."

"Really?" Mr. Zonko inquired, sounding genuinely interested, "Those sound fabulous! Do you still know the recipe?"

"By heart," The twins chimed, grinning proudly. Zonko laughed, stating, "Well, next time you have a trip here, make some up. If they're good, maybe I can sell them in the shop." Those two boys looked like they were floating on Cloud 9. It was their dream come true, and the beginnings of a long, industrious career in the joke business.

But I digress. Not to be distracted, the three of us looked at each other challengingly and then all popped the candies at once. They tasted rather pleasant, like those sweet red cherries that always top sundaes, but had no immediate effect. After about three minutes of sucking on the confections, we all shrugged.

And then I got lightheaded and had to lean against a stack of boxes to keep myself upright. The twins looked worried, asking in unison, "Stel?"

"Dizzy," I announced, trying to get my head to stop spinning as I watched Mr. Zonko bring out a clipboard and begin jotting notes. We all continued to suck on our candies. In fifteen minutes, the twins finally got the tiniest bit lightheaded. I had a splitting headache and couldn't stand without falling over.

"Hmm," Zonko mused thoughtfully, surveying us as I sat on the ground holding my head and the twins bent down on either side of me. "Curious," The man went on, scratching his short gray hair. He thought of something, then looked up and questioned, "If you don't mind me asking, how much do you weigh?"

"Um, I don't know," I answered rubbing my temples and glad that the headache seemed to be dying down a bit. For a gag, it sure wasn't funny.

"Could I weigh you? For purely scientific purposes, of course?" Zonko requested cautiously, seeming slightly afraid that I was going to go all typical female and bite his head off for even asking. With a shrug, I agreed, "Sure, go nuts."

Fred helped me stand up, and then I kicked off my shoes and stepped onto the scale Zonko conjured. I was shocked to read 38 kilos (that's about 85 pounds, for some of you). I was 5'10" by then, and that was not a healthy weight.

"Hmm," Zonko hummed once more, scratching his chin as he wrote notes. He looked to the twins, who were staring at me with utterly disturbed expressions on their faces, and asked, "What do you two weigh?"

"Sixty-eight," They breathed in unison (which would be right about 150 pounds each). It was a good weight for strong teenage boys only an inch or two shorter than me... shit...

"Ok, well, that's all," Zonko said, beaming at us, "Thanks for the help. Sorry it didn't work, but I think with this data I'll be able to fix the problem. Stop in next time." We left, none of us knowing what to say.

xxXxx

Fred and George insisted on a stop at Honeyduke's. While I was wandering around the aisles in a daze, they pooled their remaining money to buy me a two pound slab of chocolate. On the way back to school, they pulled me off to the side, presented it to me, and Fred threatened blankly, "Eat it, or we're telling."

Unwilling to argue, I nodded and nibbled little bits of it for the rest of the day. Things were fairly awkward, but we got our prank set up anyways. By the time the rest of the students were pouring into the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, I was already seated between the twins at the far end of the Gryffindor table. They were watching me like hawks, and every time I would stop eating the chocolate, which was beginning to make me feel just a little ill, one or both would glare until I started again.

I really couldn't blame them. I knew that they were just worried about me. Hell, I was worried about me. I hadn't even reazlied that I'd done that to myself, and it was frightening. How could I not have even noticed?

Food came. The twins heaped my plate with it, and Fred muttered the same threat as before. I felt ready to burst, but did like I was told. As stubborn and rebellious as I usually am, I just wasn't feeling it that night.

My spirits were brightened towards the end of the meal when our prank got set off. The fireworks blew up where they were hidden underneath the staff table, causing all assorted faculty to get thoroughly singed before the colorful balls of light went zooming around the room, which they were still doing several hours later. The pales of paint showered their contents over the entire Hall, dying anyone who didn't happen to have an umbrella (which was everyone aside from Fred, George, and me) pink and sparkly. As soon as people tried to wash off the super-permanent paint, the dehydrated giant Chinese fire salamander eggs (Just add water!) hatched and giant Chinese fire salamanders were crawling all over the place, breathing fire as they slithered over the student body's bodys. It was hilarious.

When the stampede of students and teachers tried to leave, the box of billywigs we'd set up outside the door was opened by a trip wire, and the huge swarm of inch-long blue insects attacked. They sting, and the stings cause giddiness and levitation, so half the population of Hogwarts was laughing like potheads and floating aimlessly around the castle. It was a good Halloween.

Too bad it didn't stay good.

I was exhausted, and just a little sick to my stomach by that time, but Fred, being the sweet guy that he is, offered me a piggyback ride to the Tower. At first, I thought it was a way for him to bug me about my weight some more, but he seemed genuine so I gave in. We were all in better spirits after watching the prank, and I think he and George had calmed down some, realizing that my extreme weight loss hadn't been intentional.

We were near the back of the group of Gryffindors as we made our way to the Tower. Finally at ease, George was trying very hard to peak under the back of my skirt.

"Aw, come on, Stel," He pleaded after the third time I'd smacked his hand away, "I just want to see what color your knickers are."

Giving him a speculative look, I questioned, "Why?" He grinned at me, his cooper eyebrows dancing rhythmically on his freckled forehead as he answered, "I'm a curious fellow."

"Sure you are," I laughed, turning back around to rest my head on my arms, tightening my grip on Fred's neck as he hoisted me a little higher. And then that devious spark flared up in my mind, and I grinned, commenting nonchalantly, "Besides, you can't see what color they are because I'm not wearing any."

Both Fred and I cracked up at the sound of his brother's choked, delirious moan. However, we weren't laughing for long because that's when we rounded the corner near the portrait and he stopped in his tracks. All the students were stopped, talking in hushed voices as they tried to figure out what was going on.

From over the heads, I could see that the Fat Lady's portrait had been slashed to ribbons. Someone was talking to one of the ones nearby, but I couldn't hear what was being said.

And then suddenly everyone turned to look at me...

xxXxx

"No, it wasn't him," I insisted stubbornly for the fourth time in the same minute, the hundredth since that horrible night had begun, "My dad did not slash the portrait. Why the hell would he need to? He's an innocent man, and he is not out to kill Harry!"

For the fourth time in the same minute, Remus gave an exasperated sigh, sending the twins a pleading look. All the students had been ushered into the Great Hall to wait while the professors searched the castle for my dad, but they weren't going to find him because he wasn't the one who slashed the portrait, damnit!

Because of some rabid anti-Black sentiments, I was being isolated in the kitchens. It was stupid. I wanted to go out there and pick a fight with any idiot who dared make one fucking comment, but the all-powerful Dumbledore was insisting, saying that it was for my own safety. Bullshit.

"Stella..." Remus stated gently, seeming rather ill. Concerned, I began figuring out how close to the full moon it was, and was so busy doing it that I didn't hear the rest of what he had to say. The full moon would indeed be Friday. Poor Remus...

No! I was mad at him! I did not want to hug him, make him tea, and share my chocolate with him!

"Stella, are you listening?" He demanded, growing slightly angry as he waved his hand in front of my face. I glared, standing up from the chair I'd been in as I snapped, "I don't have to listen! I don't listen to people who don't know what the fuck they're talking about!"

Fred and George each took one of my arms, lightly restraining me as George offered sheepishly, "Stel... all the portraits in the hallway saw him."

"No, they're wrong!" I insisted, choking back tears of frustration and fear, still managing to hold up the furious front for the moment, "They're lying! He's not trying to kill anyone, so why would he want to break in to the Tower?"

"Stella," Fred calmed, pulling me until I was close enough for him to put one arm around, "Maybe... maybe he was... uh... trying to see you?"

Startled, I stepped back from him, my eyes wide with hope as I whispered, "Really?" After another moment in silence, during which Fred shared significant looks with Remus and his brother, the redhead gave me a small forced smile and offered, "Um... Ya? Maybe he... he probably missed you. I know if I'd been locked up for twelve years that you'd be my first stop..."

I thought about it for a moment, and then a dreamy smile came over my face. I launched myself at Fred, squeezing him hard as I buried my face in his neck. I knew my dad hadn't forgotten me! He was here to see me! ME! He still loved me! Forever! Like he promised!

Fred returned the hug, seeming slightly uncomfortable even as he said, "Ya. See. There you go. He was... looking for you... snd Remus just wants to know if you've seen him, or if he's tried to get in contact."

"No," I responded, too elated to notice how pained Fred's voice was. He knew he was lying to me, letting me believe something that wasn't true, and it really didn't sit well. "If he had," I continued obliviously, "I would've helped him leave the country, and probably gone with him, too."

"Stella!" Remus gaped, sounding both hurt and outraged. He was going to scold me, however, one look from George made him reconsider, sighing as he groaned, "Fine. Believe whatever you want. I need to go help with the search, so stay in here until told otherwise. I'll ask someone to bring you sleeping bags."

"Thanks, Professor," George murmured, also seeming uncomfortable with the story Fred told. Consciences. Who knew?

About a half hour later, I was still grinning stupidly over believing that my daddy had come to see me when someone knocked on the door. Since I was seated at a table with Fred's arms around me, George got up to answer it.

A few moments later Oliver Wood stepped in, struggling with the three large, squashy purple sleeping bags under his arms. He grinned when he saw me, greeting, "Hi, Stella."

"Hiya, Captain," I returned, jumping out from under Fred's arms to seize one of the sleeping bags from Oliver's as I scolded, "Georgie, you're a rude little planker sometimes. You can see he's having trouble carrying our sleeping bags."

Shrugging, George replied, "I figured it was some kind of quidditch training exercise." I shot him a look of disbelief, prompting the boy to defend, "What? It's a legitimate assumption! Almost everyting he does is!"

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Oliver and offered brightly, "Ignore him. I don't think he'd lift a finger to pull his own mother from the path of a speeding train. Thanks for bringing these in."

Ignoring George's rather loud cry of protest to my comment, attempting to look suave as he ran his fingers through the perfectly messy brown hair on his head, Oliver chuckled, "Oh, no problem at all. Why are you three in here, anyways?"

"Oh," I reported, unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice, "Well, I guess there's some big 'kill the daughter of the wrongly accused' mob out there, and the professors are afraid I'll get hurt."

"Ouch," The handsome seventh year returned, wincing in sympathy, "That really sucks. You should be careful then. After all, what's the saying? 'The mob is man voluntarily descending to the nature of the beast'?"

"Emerson," I announced, recognizing the quote immediately. I smiled sweetly, but was secretly surprised that he'd just made an intelligent sounding sentence at me, "Wow, a glimmer of a non-quidditch factoid? I'm impressed, Mr. Captain Commander Wood, sir." I finished it off with a cheeky little salute, just because I couldn't resist.

The tall brunette turned the slightest bit pink, still seeming very proud of himself as he said, "Seeing as how that's not such an easy thing to accomplish, I'm honored."

He winked, and I giggled. I didn't know I was flirting. I swear! I just couldn't help myself. I was in too good of a mood.

"Anyways," The burly brunette remarked, a genial smile spitting his handsome features, "I should get going. Percy got on my case about not being down here too long. See you around, and let me know if anyone gives you any trouble. I'll take care of them."

"Aw," I cooed jokingly, "How sweet, but I wouldn't worry. Just between us, I'm more of a danger to the idiots than they are to me." He laughed back, flashing a charming grin as he waved and left. I turned back to the twins.

"What was that?" George teased, looking like Christmas had come early. After giving him a confused glance, I began spreading out our sleeping bags close to the fire and asked, "What was what, Georgie-boy?"

"THAT!" He shouted, gesturing at the door Oliver had just disappeared through, "That giggly, flirty thing you were doing with Wood! You totally like him! When did this happen?"

Was he serious? "Are you serious? I do not like him. I was just being nice. God, you are such a girl sometimes."

After pouting, George continued to defend his theory, announcing, "That was not nice! That was niiiiiiccccceeee!"

"Oh, would you cut it out?" I commanded, lying sprawled on my back on top of the sleeping bag, "I'm a friendly person."

"Since when?" He asked, genuinely confused and slightly incredulous. Closing my eyes, I hummed, "Since always. It's not my fault most people hate me before even meeting me."

"Still..." George went on, clearly not planning on letting go of his entertainment for the evening, "I say something is going on. Even if you don't like him, he definitely has a thing for you. Did you see the way he was blushing? He never blushes! And he spewed poetry at you!"

"Ralph Waldo Emerson was not a poet, you Philistine," I yawned, "He was a transcendentalist." The room was silent briefly, and then George grunted, "Huh?" Not willing to explain transcendentalism to the boy (I was too tired, but, also, convinced he wouldn't listen anyways), I rolled onto my side and ignored him.

I was trying to sleep, but George wouldn't let it go. He even tried to involve Fred, suddenly turning to his brother and smacking him hard as he bellowed, "You saw what I'm talking about, right mate? It was so obvious!"

"Drop it," Fred growled, sounding extremely upset. My interest peaked. I rolled over again to peer across the room at him. Just as I thought, he did look quite pissed off, practically seething as a dark scowl twisted his normally cheerful features. He wouldn't even look at me. What was his deal?

Also sensing some displeasure from Fred, George finally shrugged and made one last comment of, "Fine. I still say Stella's his wet dream now, but oh well." Fred punched George. George punched Fred. I fell asleep laughing, listening to them wrestling and sending stacks of large brass pots clattering across the kitchen floor.

xxXxx

"Waaaaaaiiiiiiittttttt a minute..."

Is it normal to wake one's self with a thought like that?

Hmm, I didn't think so.

But that's how I woke, with that thought suddenly propelling me bolt upright out of my sleeping bag.

"Why would he break into the Tower to see me?" I asked myself, panting in the near darkness with the twins still out cold on either side of me, "That doesn't make any sense. He'd never get me alone in the Tower..."

My dad wasn't trying to see me!... Then, what was he doing?... And why had Fred tried to convince me he'd been out to see me?...

"Fred!" I growled, smacking him sharply in his freckled face, "Frederick Gideon Weasley! You wake up right this second!"

"Huh?" He started tiredly, getting himself tangled in his purple sleeping bag as he attempted to defend himself, get out of the bag, stand, and run all at the same time, "Whut'zit? Whus' goin' on?"

"You are a great prat, Fred Weasley!" I cried, already feeling tears come to my eyes as I came to accept that none of what he said had been true. My dad wasn't trying to see me at all. He'd been free for months and he hadn't even tried! He had been breaking into the Tower, but if it wasn't for me, then it was for... for Harry! And it would be stupid of him to try to confront Harry about his innocence there, too. That only left the possibility that he wanted to... kill him... oh god, he was a killer? He'd rather kill his godson than try to find me? Did I mean that little to him?

"What?" Fred questioned, clearly confused and still only half awake. His red hair was sticking up in all directions and his face had lines on it from the creases in the purple pillow he'd been lying on. I'm sure that when I burst out into tears he was utterly, utterly bewildered.

"Stella," He soothed, finally managing to sit up and pull me into his embrace, "What's wrong?"

I couldn't even answer. I was so upset. Everything I believed seemed to be falling apart. I sobbed into Fred's chest until late in the morning, paying no mind to George's snores or the sounds of the house elves starting breakfast around us.

xxXxx

I didn't speak to anyone for five days. Looking back, I can hardly believe it myself. I've always been a chatterbox. At the time though, the whole thing passed in a dream-like blur.

I didn't know who or what to believe anymore. Was my dad innocent, despite the fact that everything pointed to him being guilty? Was he really trying to kill Harry? Why hadn't he made any attempt to contact me? I couldn't handle the answers my brain was spitting back.

Dumbledore started offering me black licorice in our sham therapy sessions. I hate black licorice and he knew it. I think he was offering the disgusting candies just to try to get me to tell him to fuck off, but instead I ate them anyways. It didn't matter. Everything tasted like cardboard.

He was the first person the twins alerted, near the end of the second day when I still wasn't responding to them in any way. Remus was next, and both men tried their hands at snapping me out of the state I'd fallen into but with no success. I couldn't handle the truth, so I guess I just shut myself down from it and the rest of the world.

I cried a lot, too. Little things that I'd never blink an eye at before were setting me off. I wandered past a group of Ravenclaws who were whispering about me, and showed up to my next class with tears running down my face. Someone threw a piece of toast at me during breakfast, and the twins had to take me outside because I was bawling.

Worst of all was Harry.

He stormed up to me the day after it happened, his eyes wild as he blocked my way down the hall and hissed, "I know it was you who let him in. We all know. You're not getting away with it, and don't even think of trying it again." And then he walked away. And I spent the rest of the day sobbing in the bathroom.

The night of the full moon I snuck out of the castle. I had to clear my head. I'd been sort of slowly coming around over the last half day or so, and I just needed to get out of that place, to find somewhere safe and non-threatening where I could think.

That place ended up being the shores of the Great Lake. The weather was getting bad, high winds whipping my hair into my face as I gazed blankly over the chopped surface of the water. I could feel myself going insane, and I wanted a fucking drink, but couldn't have one because I'd promised the twins I'd try not to drink so much. It was tempting though, because it would've numbed the horrible thoughts in my head.

I thought about my mum, how she died trying to prove that my dad was innocent. I never doubted her when she told me he was, and now it felt like I was spitting in her face for doing so.

But, hard as I was trying, there was no way for me to ignore the facts: He broke into the school. He tried to break into the Tower. He slashed the Fat Lady's portrait.

If he wasn't there for Harry, then what reason could he have possibly had to do those things? The pieces of the puzzle would not fit together neatly, and I eventually got so frustrated that I started to cry.

That's when I heard it, a soft whine right behind me. Slowly sniffling as I picked my head up, I looked over my shoulder to see that my dog was sitting just a few feet behind me, staring with a sad expression in his blue-gray eyes.

"Puppy," I whimpered, my voice slightly hoarse from disuse. The sound was a little bit alien after having gone so long without it, but I continued anyways, wiping my eyes on my sleeves, "C'mere, puppy."

The dog approached slowly, his head down as he whimpered and crawled across the grass until he was right at my side. I petted his matted black fur, finding some comfort in the simple gesture. The animal put his head in my lap, seeming sad yet content.

"He's forgotten about me," I declared out loud, talking to myself despite the fact that I could feel the dog's ears perk up. Sniffling, I continued, "He's been out for months, and he hasn't tried to contact me at all. He must have forgotten about me... he doesn't love me anymore... he doesn't care... he only wants Harry... but... but he can't be a killer... Mummy said so..."

I was so confused. I was crying again, leaning down to hug the dog as I pressed my face into his fur. He was whining softly.

And that is how the next several hours passed. Around two in the morning, I was still sobbing pitifully when I heard a stick snap behind me. Immediately tense and slightly frightened, I sat up and turned around. My eyes were blurry from the tears, but I could distinctly see a red-headed blob coming my way.

"Fred?" I called, miserable but slightly hopeful. I was feeling like crap, and Fred always made me feel better.

"Right here, Stel," He returned, his smiling face slowly coming into focus as he got closer. Pretty soon, he was seated right beside me, and I had my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes, stating, "Fred, did he forget me?"

"Probably," The boy answered, his voice taunting, and cold, and... not his. I immediately sat up, whirling around to find myself instead staring into Peter Pettigrew's fat, horrid face. My throat closed up, and I instantly found myself scrambling back away from him. The dog stood, seeming slightly worried by the disturbance, and just cocked his head at me, like he didn't know what was going on.

I was already starting to panic. Pettigrew was closing in fast, wearing that weedy, shit-eating smile of his as he taunted, "Or maybe he hasn't forgotten you, but he just doesn't care anymore! You're not worth risking his life to see! You're just an insane little alcoholic, and everyone hates you! He's ashamed of what you've become! You're crazy and failed at getting people to see that he wasn't a murderer, so he hates you! He wasn't breaking in to kill Harry! He was breaking in to kill you! You're the biggest mistake he ever made, and thinks you should've died with your baby sister, or with your mother! You couldn't protect them! Even after he told you to! You can't do anything right, and they're dead, and it's your fault! He hates you!"

"SHUT UP!" I screeched, closing my hands over my ears as new tears poured down my face. Why was Peter here? Why was he saying these things to me? It wasn't my fault they died! It wasn't! I tried to protect them! I really did! I couldn't! There was nothing I could do!

I could hardly breathe for crying so hard, and eventually stopped being able to crawl away from the squat man stalking towards me. I curled up into a ball, whimpering and sobbing helplessly. He was going to kill me.

Nothing happened. After a few long minutes of crying, I finally gathered the courage to look up. No one was there. The dog was standing over me, still wearing a look of confusion as he whined and then bent down to lick my arm.

At first, I didn't understand what happened.

And then it hit me all at once: I'd hallucinated it. I'd hallucinating Fred coming over to make me feel better, and then him turning into Pettigrew and saying those horrible things. It all seemed so real though...

Oh god, what was wrong with me?

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She's a crazy one, eh?

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