Part 15 - Fever

When Madame Malkin asked if I'd be free after Christmas to be fitted for more robes for the photo shoot, she really meant right after Christmas. I received an owl early in the morning the very next day. I'd barely been back at the Burrow for ten minutes and, seeing how I hadn't slept in about twenty-four hours due to all the Yule Ball festivities, I was just a little wiped out.

She wanted to check if I'd was free that afternoon at one. I did some quick math in my head, figuring that I could get about five hours of sleep. I wrote a semi-coherent reply promising to be there and then promptly fell face first into Fred's bed. I did not move until noon.

I woke up intending to call and talk to my dad. I left myself some extra time purely for that reason and dressed in what I felt was one of my cutest casual outfits: a red, clingy, off-the-shoulder sweater and a denim mini Tonks gave me for Christmas--it was a bit longer than I usually wore, but she'd made an adorable cluster of rhinestone hearts at one spot on the hem. But Bill bounced into the room at 12:10--he's really kind of a great big dork; I don't know why everyone insists that he's so cool--and demanded that I let him take me to lunch.

I announced that I was unfortunately busy, but then he wanted to know why. I told him about the appointment at one. He said that there was plenty of time to get lunch, that he would love to escort me to the shop.

He just offered so adorably, so chivalrously--and with the dorkiest bow I have ever witnessed--that I was helpless to resist. I shrugged on my leather jacket, linked my arm with his, and we were off.

After a leisurely meal in a charming little caf on Diagon Alley, the two of us strolled into the dress shop and were immediately set upon by Madame Malkin. "Right on time, dear," The squat woman beamed, hustling me quickly into the back of the shop, "Who, may I ask, is your charming companion?"

I laughed, "Madame Malkin, meet Bill Weasley. He kidnapped me for lunch and insisted on coming along. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," She replied happily, steering us into a very cozy, tasteful little burgundy and gold sitting room where several couches as well as a kettle and biscuits were waiting. "Would you two like some tea?" She questioned, motioning for us to sit, "I'm afraid my photographer is running a bit late but he should be here in the next few minutes."

"I'd love some tea, Ma'am," Bill spoke up, offering his handsomest, flirtiest grin as he let his lanky body flop into one of the couches. He had Madame Malkin wrapped around his little finger in under three seconds flat.

We spent fifteen minutes or so chatting amicably, sipping tea, and munching on some splendid biscuits. I returned the traveling cloak she'd lent me but the dress, though I'd brought it along to model, was all mine. I told a little bit about the Christmas party I'd gone to, mostly just about the food and how much fun I had dancing. Madame Malkin told of her own Christmas, which she had apparently spent having a quiet but happy dinner with her sister's family in the States. She also let it slip that the photographer was her nephew.

And that was about the time he arrived, his light voice calling in from the front, "Aunt Jenny!"

"Back here, Jonathan!" Madame Malkin replied, heedless to the fact that Bill and I were sharing looks of surprise and wonder, both mouthing, 'Jenny?'

A young man appeared in the doorway. He looked to be about Bill's age, early- to mid-twenties, with neat black hair parted on the left and a pair of thin-frammed square glasses perched on an aquiline nose that was smack dab in the middle of an astoundingly tan and angular face. He was tall and quite broad, chest and arms fitting snugly into a long-sleeved, bright purple Weird Sister's shirt. A stylishly thin black scarf hung loosely from his thick neck and crisp blue jeans stretched taut across his meaty thighs. He had a dazzling white smile for Madame Malkin.

"Hey, Aunt Jenny," He said, voice flat and unmistakably American. He strolled across the room to bend himself nearly in half in order to peck the old woman on her forehead. "Sorry I'm late," He went on, dark eyes seeming just a tiny bit too wide behind his thick glasses, "Lucy suckered me into babysitting and didn't get back when she said she would. I missed my port."

"Don't fret, Jonathan, dear," Madame Malkin replied, giving his prominent cheekbone a fond pat before allowing the man to stand back up to his impressive height, "Your sister owled to take full responsibility for your tardiness."

"Oh," He said, perking up, "That was nice of her." His handsome face fell just a few seconds later as he sullenly pouted, "And it's Ozzy. Everyone else calls me Ozzy. Even Mom. Why won't you?"

Waving him off, Madame Malkin turned away and answered, "Because I picked your name and I think it's beautiful. Now, stop moping and introduce yourself."

He spared his aunt one more unhappy glance before turning to Bill and me and offering out his hand along with a friendly grin. "Ozzy Oswald," He announced flirtatiously as he gave both my hand and Bill's a firm pump, "Which one of you lovelies is my model?"

I giggled and Bill blinked; he didn't have as much experience with men hitting on him as I did.

"That'd be me," I spoke up sweetly.

"Aw," Ozzy play-whined, sending a quick wink in Bill's direction, "Too bad."

"Jonathan Theodore Oswald!" Madame Malkin scolded shrilly, causing Ozzy to wince quite noticeably at the use of his full name, "You behave yourself!"

He gave a rather juvenile but very adorable huff, responding, "Yes, Aunt Jenny." Turning back to me, he was all business as he stated, "It'll be a pleasure to work with you..."

"Stella," I finished brightly, "Stella Black, and the pleasure is all mine... I've never really done this sort of thing before."

"No sweat," Ozzy answered, giving a blinding grin, "You just stand around and look gorgeous. I'll do the rest."

I laughed, joking, "Sounds like my kind of job. When do we start?"

"Well," Ozzy began happily, "Aunt Jenny's been gushing for a week about how great you look in some white silk number. Why don't you go put it on and let me see what level of babe-ness I'm dealing with?" He shot a handsome smile to Bill, who was fidgeting uncomfortably and trying to fade into the background. "I'll look after your friend here," Ozzy offered, "See to it he doesn't get too bored in your absence."

Quite enjoying Bill's predicament, I gave a slightly evil giggle and wandered off to change, calling, "That's very kind. I'll be sure to take my time then."

When I returned a few minutes later, Bill and Ozzy were gabbing away like old friends. I'm not exactly how Bill got over the fact that Ozzy clearly had a desire to jump him, but there you have it.

I cleared my throat and gathered the attention over everyone in the room, doing a delicate spin in the doorway.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Ozzy gasped, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Madame Malking whapped him upside his neat head and he quickly added, "Ouch!... sorry, Aunt Jenny."

xxXxx

The rest of the afternoon wore on in much the same fashion. I tried on and was fitted for a ridiculous amount of clothing. Ozzy kept swearing, but, even with getting smacked in the head a lot, his grin kept getting bigger.

"You are perfect," He told me as he and Bill and I walked out of the shop past dark, "I mean... clothing catalogues don't usually have just one model doing the entire thing, but you're going to be it and I still don't think there's going to be enough of you."

In a surprising show of modesty, I blushed and giggled. "Well, thanks," I replied, my right arm linked with Bill's left, my left with Ozzy's right, "Maybe I can make a career out of this stand-around-looking-gorgeous gig. It would sure beat going back to Hogwarts."

Ozzy stared at me strangely for a few moments, seeming to be deep in thought. Finally, he asked, "How old are you?"

I smiled, "Fifteen."

He stared at me blankly again, not paying any attention at all to Bill's laughter in the background as the redhead was undoubtedly remembering his own experience with believing I was older than I was.

"No way," Ozzy breathed, still staring quizzically, "For real?"

"Unless the year on my birth certificate is a typo," I quipped in reply, "Don't worry, you're not the first person to think I was older than I actually am. I'm very tall for my age."

Ozzy snorted, teasing, "Tall. Ya, that's what did it..."

"Lech," I laughed, giving him a playful nudge with my shoulder.

"Caught me," He sighed dramatically, "Well, I was going to invite the pair of you out for some drinks, but I don't want to be corrupting the youth of today."

With a faint smile, I replied, "I don't drink anymore, but I'd love to come along if you and Bill want to hang out somewhere. I can order a milkshake."

Ozzy regarded me carefully, seeming to be debating whether or not to pry about the anymore bit of my statement. He finally decided against it, grinning handsomely at Bill as he stated, "Sounds good to me. You in, Weasley?"

"Sure," Bill happily agreed, "I could go for a pint. Got any place in mind?"

"A friend of mine's been dying to get me into her place," Ozzy announced, smoothing down his hair and fiddling a bit with his glasses, "It's somewhere in London... I forget the name though... Cobalt... Coeval... Covert..."

"Coven?" I supplied, my interest definitely peaked. Coven was a wellknown hot spot of the wizarding world. Everyone from musicians to writers to quidditch players and socialites hung out there. The clientele was extremely exclusive.

"That's the one," Ozzy beamed, "I was promised a primo table all I could drink. What do you say?"

"I say that sounds fantastic," Was my delighted reply, "What are we waiting for?"

xxXxx

Ozzy's friend, Luisella Cordero, the owner of Coven, was very happy to see him and ushered us back to a private booth in the corner of her trendy little club. She gave one of her underlings orders that we were to get whatever we wanted, and then she excused herself; it was early but she had a lot of work to do before the crowds would start pouring in.

Bill ordered a pint. Ozzy ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. I got a chocolate malt. I felt bad about that because I know that places like Coven are not usually equipped to make chocolate malts and I'm fairly sure the underling had to run out and get it for me, but he over heard that that's what I was craving and ran right out to find one. Bless his heart. It was delicious.

The three of us hung out there for a long time without even realizing it. Bill and Ozzy were both goofy, flirty dorks and I had a total blast just messing around with them. Ozzy told us about his family, his mother and older sister Lucy, Lucy's husband, Jeremy, and their two little boys, Owen and Seth. He also went for a bit about all the work he's done in England and the States. Apparently, his work was very well-known in both places, both from an artistic and advertising standpoint. He was one of the premier wizard photographers of the age.

Before long, it was around midnight and the club was packed. Our little booth was apparently in some sort of V.I.P. section because not many of the regular patrons were allowed in and the area stayed reasonably quiet aside from our rowdy little trio. Bill and Ozzy had both finished their fifth and sixth drinks in rapid succession and I was eating a bowl of maraschino cherries when the two of them rather drunkenly decided that they would like to dance.

"I'm not sure if you old men can keep up with me," I teased, sliding elegantly out of the booth and giggling as I watched the pair of them wobble. They were a bit tipsy and I could already tell this was going to be very amusing.

"Respect your elders, you cheeky brat," Bill scolded with a stern but distracted grin as he watched a young thing in a short skirt flounce by.

"Ya, what he said," Ozzy giggled gruffly, taking one of my hands and dragging me towards the dance floor.

We had a blast, dancing together for a few songs before Bill paired off with his flouncy young thing and Ozzy wandered away to chat up a blonde fellow who was wearing a very flattering mesh tank top. I stayed on the dance floor, finding no shortage of partners and having a wonderful time just moving to the music.

It was fun. A little over half a year ago, I wasn't certain I would ever have fun ever again and I loved that I'd been wrong. I loved that I could enjoy life.

I was dancing alone to a nice song that sounded vaguely like a snythy, sped up version of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida when I felt a new presence slip in behind me, a deep and familiar Scottish brogue blowing hot in my ear, "Fancy seeing you here."

I tensed up immediately, standing stock still in the middle of the dance floor and trying not to start shaking. "Go away, Wood," I growled, unable to make myself move or turn around or run or anything.

"I just want to talk, Stel," The young man whined in what I'm sure he thought was a seductive manner, "Come on. Give me two minutes."

"I've got nothing to say to you," I hissed, sounding a hell of a lot braver than I felt, "Leave me alone."

I was still frozen to the spot so Oliver used the opportunity to get closer. I could feel the heat pouring off his body through the back of my shirt as he spoke. "Look, Stel," He pleaded, "I'm sorry. I know I was a bastard. I've got a temper and I did some things that I'm not proud of, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I miss you and I just want another chance."

"No," I replied flatly, trembling because I couldn't tell exactly how close he was and I was ready to turn around and slit his through if he tried to touch me... and then I remembered that I'd left my knife in my jacket in the booth so I would have to choose another method for killing the keeper. That was fine as long as the end result was the same.

"Don't you remember how good we were together?" He purred in my ear, body hovering behind mine, "Fucking up against the wall in the quidditch showers, under the bleachers. That one time in the library still gets me hard just thinking about it."

He must have mistaken the tremor that ran down my spine as arousal instead of shame-filled fury because he reached out and took my hips in both his large hands, pulling my arse against his crotch to feel the hard-on he was sporting. And I whipped around so fast he didn't even have time to look surprised before I broke his fucking nose and brought my knee hard up into his gut.

Before I could land another blow, someone grabbed me from behind and yanked me away from the whimpering, crumpled up mass of Scottish douche bag. "What the fuck, Stella?" Bill growled, physically restraining me from going back and finishing Oliver off, carrying me back towards our booth.

"Let me go!" I choked, hysterical and suddenly aware that I was crying, "He needs to die! I fucking warned him and now he needs to die!"

We made it to the table and Bill managed to manhandle me into sitting down at it, holding my arms against my sides as he stared at me for some sort of clue as to why I was freaking out. Being restrained, however, only made it worse. It made me feel helpless and vulnerable and just completely fucking terrified.

Ozzy arrived and put up privacy and silencing charms just seconds before I started screaming.

"Stella!" Bill shouted, trying and failing to hold me down and only succeeding in pushing me farther and farther into the fit, "Stella, stop it!! It's me!! It's Bill!!"

"LET GO!!!" I screeched, too far gone to understand what was being said, "LET ME GO!! GET OFF!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

I finally wriggled myself free, scrambling backwards away from Bill until I was huddled in the corner of the booth with absolutely nowhere to go, breathing hard as my gaze flickered wildly over Bill and Ozzy standing bewilderedly in my only escape route.

My heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of my chest, and I was absolutely stuck in a loop of intense fear and paranoia.

And then I wasn't. I blinked and seemed to come back into myself, my eyes filling with miserable tears as Bill cautiously moved closer.

"Stella?" He questioned hesitantly, holding his arms out in a defensive manner as he slid across the booth seat, "Stella, are you alright? It's just me. It's Bill."

"Bill," I repeated numbly just moments before bursting into tears, hiding my face against my knees and sobbing for all I was worth. Bill very cautiously drew me into his steady embrace and allowed me to bawl into his shoulder, whispering, "Shhhh. It's alright, Stel. It's alright. I got you, little one."

I'm not sure exactly how long I cried without pause before hearing Bill whisper, "I'm gonna get her home, mate. Catch you later."

"Ya," I heard Ozzy reply, "No worries. Take care of her... I think I'll go speak with the handsy dude that started this whole mess."

Bill picked me up gently from the booth, cradling me against his chest and walking off towards the back exit as he agreed, "Good job. Make sure to pass on some of my sentiments for the runt as well as your own."

The cool night air stung my feverish cheeks.

xxXxx

I was mostly calm by the time we got home to the Burrow. Bill was mostly sober and insisted on making me a cup of cocoa before allowing me to go to bed because, despite the flush on my face, I was shivering uncontrollably inside my leather jacket. I hadn't worn it on the journey and that was probably a mistake.

"Are you sure you won't take a pepper-up?" Bill prodded, setting a mug down in front of me and pressing his palm to my forehead, "You're really warm... must've caught a chill."

"I'm fine," I insisted, trying not to sound hoarse and not really succeeding, "Just tired... sorry for freaking out."

Suddenly looking far more grown up than normal, Bill spared me with a soft glance and answered, "It's alright... you want to talk about it?"

I vehemently shook my head, biting back a moan when the movement caused a rather disconcerting amount of pain to flare behind my eyes and at the base of my skull. "I'd like to go to bed," I murmured, practically falling asleep at the table, "I'm really tired."

"Sure," The redhead agreed, carefully helping me to my feet and hovering as I moved up the stairs towards the twins' bedroom. He saw me in and then finally left after another dozen reassurances that I was fine.

Without bothering to change, I collapsed into Fred's bed and curled into his blankets, fighting desperately for warmth until exhaustion overtook me.

xxXxx

The fever knocked me on my arse for almost an entire delirious week. I don't remember all that much but I have quite a wealth of secondhand knowledge from my many visitors during that time.

The majority is from Bill. He felt guilty because he thought he'd made me sick by not insisting I put on my jacket before carrying me out of the club. Even after repeated reassurances that he could hardly be blamed, the stubborn jackarse still maintains that it was his fault.

The guilt led to him lengthening his holiday in order to watch over me. He says I was mostly quiet, asleep but restless as he sat by my bed and caught up on a lot of his paperwork.

On some occasions, when the fever was spiking high enough, I had vivid hallucinations, thrashing and screaming and crying. Bill said I called out for my mum, my dad. I fought like hell when he or Mrs. Weasley tried to hold me still, sobbing for them not to touch me, "Don't touch me! I don't want to! Please! Stop! I'm sorry! Stop!"

But, mostly, I was quiet.

Ozzy popped into check on me a few times, bringing flowers and raunchily-worded get-well cards I could not full appreciate until after I was better. Remus came whenever he was off work, as did Tonks, the two of them sat at my bedside together most nights to give Bill and Mrs. Weasley a break from their vigils.

Unfortunately, everyone was so preoccupied with taking care of me, worrying and trying to get me better, that they failed to notice the letters addressed to me that were piling up. Most were from Fred. He'd been trying to get in touch with me since the very next day after the Yule Ball, excited about the step we'd taken and very anxious to take another. He wanted to go on a date.

But, the longer time stretched without a reply to his letters, the more nervous he got. The poor boy thought I'd run off again, or that I was mad at him, or that he'd scared me away. He had a miserable time during those days as well.

Shortly before my fever finally broke for good, he got fed up and, on the advice and with the help of his twin, he broke out of Hogwarts and headed the Burrow. He was absolutely resolved to see me. He had a whole speech ready in case I was having second thoughts about us. I've heard it was quite good.

But he arrived to find that I was just ill, and he and George began scolding all involved parties for not having told them sooner. Their mother quickly fired back with the fact that they were not supposed to be out of school, asking how many rules they'd broken in their ridiculous little quest, and that pretty much shut the pair right up.

But Fred took up a post at my bedside, holding my hand and petting my sweaty forehead as I whimpered and fidgeted and moaned in my sleep.

When I came to about a day later, his was the first face I saw, that blinding grin I'd grown to love looking hopeful and very relieved.

"Hey, Stel," He stated quietly, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, "How you feeling?"

I blinked, at him and at my blurry surroundings, unable to remember where I was or what the fuck crawled into my throat and cut one just before it died. "Fred?" I whispered blearily, "'S goin' on?"

"We were in Paris," He replied softly, his grin warm against my palm, "Dancing under the Eifel Tower, under the stars. I professed my love in a poetic manner and you swooned terribly, poor girl." I let out a low chuckle but he just kept going, "I caught you, of course, and took you straight away to a lovely seaside resort to recuperate. As soon as you feel up to it, we'll go for a long walk on the beach and eat something snooty."

"Sounds nice," I hummed, fighting to keep my eyes open, "No snails though, 'k?"

"You're up!" A new voice called happily. Letting my head flop weakly towards the door, I was just able to make out the blurry shapes of Bill and George walking into the room. They took seats on the opposite side of the bed as Fred, Bill reaching out to feel my clammy forehead as George teased, "Nice to see those pretty eyes again, Sleeping Beauty."

I was still struggling valiantly to keep them open, weakly mumbling, "Ditto, Georgie Porgie..."

"Fever's down," Bill announced, standing with a smile, "I'll let Mum know. She's been waiting to pump you full of potions."

"Mmm," I complained, finally losing my battle against the weight of my eyelids and slipping back into a deep slumber.

xxXxx

I took a few more days to get back my strength. Mrs. Weasley made sure I stayed in bed, force feeding me all manner of disgusting potions as her and Fred and Bill and Remus hovered almost constantly. I appreciated that they cared so much but, honestly, it started to get really annoying.

"Fred," I scolded, stopping the rambunctious redhead in the bathroom doorway, "You are not following me into the shower."

Pouting, he argued, "But I can help. I'm an excellent back washer."

I answered with a devilish grin, stating, "I'm sure you are, but your services are not needed." He began to argue, but I silence him with a finger to his soft lips. "Don't worry," I cooed, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek, "I'll be fine. And you'll be the first person I call if I decide I want some assistance."

His smile was blinding. "I'm going to hold you to that," He joked, leaning to watch me for as long as possible as I laughed and shut the door on him.

I turned on the water but did not get in, sitting down dizzily on the toilet seat and listening as Fred's footsteps gradually faded away down the hall. Once I was sure he was gone, I took my dad's mirror out of my pocket and opened it up.

"Daddy?" I whispered into the smooth, shining surface, "Are you there?" For a long few moments, nothing happened and I was afraid that he wasn't going to answer. I knew that I'd waited along time to call him again, much longer than I meant to because of getting sick and then all the people that refused to leave my side. Hell, it was only due to some very fortunate distractions and subtle sleight of hand that I'd even managed to get the mirror out of its box. I was very worried that I'd hurt my dad's feelings in waiting so long, that he was going to be mad.

But his face appeared and I didn't feel as worried anymore because he smiling. "Hey, baby," He greeted, his voice soft and dark, his eyes crinkled and light, "How are you?"

"A little down," I replied, stroking the surface of the glass, "I got sick just after the ball. That's why I didn't call you. I feel much better but... I dunno. Just tired still, I guess."

"That's no good," My dad answered, touching his glass in the same spot as me so that our fingers were almost making contact, "I'm glad you're alright now though... did you have fun at your ball?"

"Oh ya," I gushed brightly, "It was great! I gave out a bunch of different aliases with a bunch of different crazy stories attached to them and people believed me! I was an exchange student, and a model, and a... uh, an actress, and a spy!"

He stared up at me, smirking roguishly and full of pride, and stated, "That's a good girl. Mischief is the spice of life, I always say."

Giggling, I agreed, "I say it, too. I guess we're alike that way. Remus told me that I take after you. My favorite description of his is that we're both 'shaggy, full of hellfire, and out to gray all of his hair.'"

"Sounds accurate," Dad answered with a great barking laugh that almost seemed too big for his malnourished body, "And it's nice to know that someone's been keeping Moony's hair nice and silvery in my absence."

"Of course," I chirped, "Happy to oblige... speaking of absences, are you going to come see me soon?"

His gaze grew sad but hopeful. "Soon, baby," He told me, "I'm hoping I can get to you in the next month or so. We're still trying to work out a safe location... I know it's hard and just a bit hypocritical coming from me, but I need you to be patient."

"I am patient," I agreed dutifully, "I'm just excited, too. That's all. I miss you, Daddy."

"I miss you, too, Stella," He answered, voice filled with sincerity and longing, "I miss you so damn much. I've thought about you every single day."

"Me, too, Daddy," I countered quietly, trying to will down the tears that were welling up in my eyes. I cleared my throat, doing an abrupt subject change by asking, "Are you staying warm and getting enough to eat? I could send you supplies, you know. And a Christmas present. I didn't get you a Christmas present."

Chuckling, my dad replied, "Don't worry about me, baby. All I need is that supernova smile of yours. Besides, I'm the parent. I should be the one making sure you're staying warm and getting enough to eat."

"Mrs. Weasley's definitely seeing to that," I laughed, "I was barely able to sneak into the shower. As it is, she might end up busting down the door and dragging me back to bed once she realizes I've gotten up."

"Good old Molly," Dad stated fondly, proving that I'd also inherited my tendency for awkward transitions from the man when he added, "Did you get to do your modeling thing yet? Shoud I look out for you in the papers?"

"Not yet," I said with a smile, "I only just went and got fitted and met the photographer. He's really nice. Besides, it's not like I'm in anything that important. It's just a dress catalogue."

"I still think I'll want to frame it," Dad answered sincerely, "I get so damn proud of everything you do. Do you remember when you were little? All those drawings you used to make for me? I saved every last one. Had a special drawer in my desk just for them."

My heart swelled, a smiling stretching my cheeks almost to a point of discomfort. I barely trusted my voice to answer but I did anyways, tearfully whispering, "I remember. Mum got mad once because I... I scribbled on the wall and you didn't want to let her wash it off. You said it was evidence of my blossoming genius and she said you were off your nut."

We spent a long few moments just smiling at each other, lost together in bittersweet memories of the woman we'd both lost.

A sharp knock on the door made me jump. "Stella?" I heard Fred call worriedly through the wood, "Are you... talking to yourself?"

"Of course not," I fired back in an instant, winking down at the glass' surface, "That would be completely crazy and I'm only half so."

As my dad snickered quietly to himself, Fred uncertainly responded, "Well, um, I knew that... just... try not take too long in there, ya? Mum's sending me and George back to school soon, and I want to have a few more chances to fluff your pillow and handfeed you some piping hot nourishment."

"Alright," I agreed brightly, "Keep your shirt on. I'm coming." I listened to his footsteps gradually fade once more, turning back to the mirror with a sad, lopsided smile. "I'd better get my shower in," I said, "And then get out there... I'll try to call you tonight. Hopefully for longer."

Dad nodded in understanding, "Sure, baby. Just concentrate on getting yourself well and I'm sure we'll talk soon. I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy," I responded, pressing a brief kiss to the mirror, "Bye."

xxXxx

I had a lot on my mind when I got out of the shower, thoroughly drying my short, shaggy blonde hair so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't fret. I thought mostly about my dad, about what he'd said about those drawings I'd made him... his whole face had lit up when he talked about those old things. I began to wonder whatever had happened to them...

"Hey, Remus," I called, catching my godfather and Tonks as they walked through the front door together.

"Hello, love," He greeted, scarred face stretching into a happy but concerned smile as he quickly crossed the living room to pull me into a hug, "You're up! Does Molly know that you're up? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm much better, thanks," I assured him with a laugh. After a brief beat, I went on, "I was, er, just wondering about something that maybe you could help me with."

His silver-streaked blonde hair fell handsomely into his light gold eyes as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'll do my best," He replied, "What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath, quietly asking, "Do you know what happened to my parents' things? After the Ministry seized the house?"

"Narcissa Malfoy looted everything," Tonks spoke up, cold fury written on her pretty face, "I remember because my mum had a fantastic row with her about it, saying that those things belong to you and Aunt Leda, that you two needed them a hell of a lot more than that hag did. I think she sold the house, too. All property should've went to you and your mum, but the Ministry really had it out for her because of how openly she was defending Sirius. They used the fact that your parents had been married in a muggle ceremony in Vegas to say that their marriage wasn't legitimate and all property therefore went to Sirius' blood relatives."

The pure and unrelenting hatred I've always felt for the Ministry and for my dad's family flared to a whole new level. "Do you know if she still has any of the things she took?" I ventured, very aware that Remus was staring at me in that way he did when he was sure I was up to something but wasn't yet one-hundred-percent on exactly what.

"Dunno," Tonks told me, carding her fingers through her short bubblegum-pink hair nearly had enough to rip it out by the roots, "I'd say it's probable. That mansion of theirs is pretty huge."

"Interesting," I murmured under my breath, already formulating a plan.

"Stella," Remus scolded quietly, "Whatever you're thinking right now, stop it. The last thing you need is a confrontation or another arrest."

"It's a little late for that," A curt, very precise voice cut in as its redheaded owner appeared in the open doorway. Percy stamped some snow off his boots and pushed his horn-rimmed glasses further up on his nose. He had a neat roll of parchment in one of his thin hands and a truly uncomfortable look of pity on his face.

I squirmed under his scrutiny, remembering all too vividly that he'd been in the room when I played the Ministry council my memories of what happened that night with Claire...

I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact.

"A Mr. Oliver Wood has filed a complaint," Percy began without ceremony, staring at me with an intense look of sympathy as he held out the roll of parchment, "Alledging you assaulted him in a nightclub on December the 26th. You did not respond to the letter sent out informing you of the charge, and the hearing is tomorrow so I felt that I should make sure you knew."

Somewhere in that pile of unanswered mail, was a Ministry form detailing everything to that effect. I found and went over it later that evening before burning it in an attempt to make myself feel better.

"Stella," Remus sighed, taking the scroll out of my limp hand and unfurling it, his eyes quickly scanning the document, "You've been fighting again? What happened?"

"Bloody prat doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself," I murmured, feeling my face turning red with shame because I knew that Percy knew, "Wasn't my fault."

"What's not your fault?" Fred asked as he and George and Bill trailed in from the kitchen. The twins both swung an arm around my shoulders from either side, nodding hellos to Percy and waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Stella is being charged with assaulting Oliver Wood," Remus announced, sounding a bit exasperated with my antics, "She's going to have to attend another hearing tomorrow."

I felt both twins tense up. "Wood was bothering you again?" Fred growled in a surprisingly tender manner, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't a big deal," I replied, gaze down, "I took care of it."

"I'll kill him," Fred went on, acting like he hadn't heard a word I said, "I'll fucking kill him!"

"The bloke from the club?" Bill questioned, forehead wrinkling thoughtfully, "You've had problems with him before? You should've said something. Ozzy and I would have sorted him."

"I told you," I replied acidly, "I took care of it."

"You probably don't have anything to worry about," Percy reassured me, talking gently, rather condescendingly, like I was an infant who'd been frightened by a thunder clap, "Given your past history, a claim self-defense due to extreme emotional trauma will most likely set things straight."

"What's that mean?" Fred spoke up, "'Past history'?"

"Nothing!" I snapped, getting pissed off and panicky, "It doesn't mean anything!" Glaring straight at Percy, I hissed, "Shut up!"

He frowned, "I'm only trying to help."

"Well DON'T!!" I shouted, throwing off the twins' arms and snatching the scroll out of Remus' hands, "Don't try to help!... and stop looking at me like that!!"

The room got very quiet.

Mrs. Weasley entered from the kitchen, glancing around for a few moments before sternly demanding, "What in Merlin's name is going on in here? Stella, what are you doing out of bed?"

"Being indicted," I snarled.

"Lovely," The squat little woman replied with an annoyed huff, "We'll you're going right back to bed now. Say goodbye to the twins. They're off for Hogwarts."

My tirade seemed to deflate a little as I looked over to Fred and George and saw that they seemed quite hurt by my anger. I seized them both into as fierce a hug as my weakened body could manage. "Sorry, guys," I whispered, kissing them both on the cheek, "Don't worry. I'll be fine... and try not to get in too much trouble without me, ya?"

"Of course, Stel," George responded brightly, giving me a tight squeeze and moving away to allow his brother a bit of time to himself, "Get better quick and then come see us. We miss having you around."

Fred crushed me against his chest, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. "Promise me you won't go after Wood," I whispered, feeling his arms immediately tighten and shake with anger. "Promise me," I repeated, hugging him back just as hard, "I don't want you getting in trouble or hurt over this."

After a long moment, Fred answered, "I promise I'll try my best to resist the urge to feed him his own testicles."

I gave an airy giggle, sighing, "I guess I can't ask for much more than that... stay safe, alright? I'll come visit in a few days."

"And you'll let me take you out on a proper date, won't you?" Fred pressed, picking his head up in order to give a charming smile, "I think it's the least you can do to reward me for my great self-restraint."

"Of course, you dweeb," I laughed, kissing his cheek once more, "All you had to do was ask."

xxXxx

I went to bed and the twins were supposed to go back to Hogwarts. However, they decided to take a detour to Percy's flat.

Being the predictable fellow that he is, Percy politely declined his mother's invitation to stay for dinner with the excuse that he had a lot of work to do and then went straight back to his office. This gave the twins an opportunity to do a little B&E and snoop through the stacks of detailed notes and journals their brother had always kept since he was seven. Like I said, predictable.

"Found anything?" Fred asked anxiously as he and his mirror-image sat cross-legged on the floor of Percy's painfully neat bedroom.

"Nope," George replied, leafing through one of the hardbound books, "No mention at all of Stel since last year... you?"

"Not a thing," Fred answered with a sigh, "I think this one's more recent through so I guess we'll see. I'm sure there's got to be something in these damn books to explain why they were both acting so weird today."

"Ya," George agreed, "The prefect obviously knows something we don't..."

They flipped pages in silence for a few more minutes.

"I think I've got it," Fred suddenly announced, frowning down into the book as his eyes darted quickly across the too-neat lettering, "He's got an entry about Stella's trial..." After a few more seconds his face went so pale that all he was was freckles.

"She..." He whispered, his voice shaking noticeably, "She was raped."

"What?" George demanded, scrambling across the floor and craning to get a look into the open journal, "Are you sure? What's it say? Who did it? Was she alright?"

"It was..." Fred stuttered, his eyes moving so furiously over the lines that he looked like he might be having some sort of seizure, "It was the girl... the one who got killed... she broke Stella out of the mental institute and overpowered her... Stella pushed her away after wards and she hit her head..."

The twins were stunned into silence, staring at each other and at a complete loss for what to do.

Nosy bastards.

xxxxxxxxxx

Woo. Drama, drama, drama. Hope you kiddies enjoyed this one and hopefully I'll have more for you at some point in the near future. Remember, reviews make me get down and boogie oogie oogie. Cheers.