I quickly tied my robe closed, blushing as George grinned wider, "Well, he called me, actually. About Mum throwing a fit a few hours ago. And then I asked him to come over."

"You are so sleeping on the couch," I hissed.

Bill laughed, "Now, now. Let me see your hand. George said I might be able to recognize the writing."

I sighed and held out my hand. His eyes widened, "Has it spread to anywhere else?"

I shook my head, "Not that I know of, but I really only noticed it about five minutes ago."

Bill nodded and looked it over, flipping my hand over to look at my palm, "It looks goblin."

"Do you know what it says?"

He shook his head. "I have to get my books on it. But it does seem almost definately goblin. Although, that's latin."

"I know," I nodded.

He looked at me, "And what it says?"

I nodded, "I know that, too."

He nodded, and looked over my hand, pushing up my sleeve slightly. The writing had traveled to my wrist, but it stopped there.

"It's a poem, I believe," Bill said after squinting at it a moment. "I don't know what it says, but it has the form of a poem."

"Will it... kill me?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I don't see why it should. It's probably just a side-effect of whatever potion you took today." He looked at me, "You did take a potion?"

I nodded, "Yeah. But it never mentioned any side-effects."

"Perhaps it only affected you?" Bill mused, tracing the wording once more. I looked at George, who was leaning against the wall, watching Bill closely. Strange. "I can be back in five minutes. You have parchment and ink, right?"

"Yeah, in the drawer," I muttered, confused.

"Good, you'll need to write this down," he told me. "I'll be back in a moment."

He went through the living room fireplace and behind a burst of green flames, was gone. I sat in silence, glaring at George.

"Like I said, he called me."

It was the first thing he said after Bill had left. He was still leaning against the wall. "You're still sleeping on the couch."

He smirked, "Oh, I am?"

He raised his eyebrow suggestively, but I refused to let my blush win, and said hotly, "Yes, you are."

He shrugged, "I'll change your mind later."

He moved slowly, and approached the couch I was sitting on, and took a seat next to me, causually slipping his arm over the back of the couch, which was behind me.

I kept my eyes glued on my hand, keeping the sleeve rolled up slightly. My fingers traced my scars from Bellatrix Lestrange. Mudblood. I knew I shouldn't believe it, but that was who I was. I was a Muggleborn, a Mudblood. It didn't matter if it was carved into my skin or not.

"You never told me how you got that," George nodded towards my arm.

My fingers froze on the second jagged 'O'. I didn't look up at him, "The war left scars. That's all I can say."

He didn't buy it, "Who did that to you?"

"Death Eater."

"Was this when you Golden lot disappeared."

"It was about fifteen minutes before we arrived at the Shell Shack with Olivander and Griphook. It was when we were at Malfoy Manor."

I knew that he knew that much of what had happened. But Harry, Ron, and I agreed to never tell anyone what happened there. I didn't want the entire family to know. And I couldn't trust George with my secrets. After what happened when I told him of my parents and sister, I couldn't trust him with this. He'd make a fuss out of it, and Molly would fuss over it as well. Bill had checked it for no dark curses, Fleur had healed it with Essance of Ditany from my bag. They swore to keep the secret as well. I had to tell Bill the entire story for him to believe me when I said it was just a dagger.

"Who did it?"

"A Deatheater," I repeated.

"Who?"

"None of your business. It's in the past."

The fire roared, causing me to jump. George didn't even move. My war reflexes were still overpowering my common sense. I had made a grab for my wand, but realized it was still in the bedroom by the book on the floor. Darn, perhaps that spine wasn't too broken. Wandlessly, I accio'd a piece of parchment and quill and set it on the coffee table. Bill took his seat on my left side and took my arm gently, already an open book on his lap as he quickly flickered his eyes back and forth.

"I don't know..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's Goblin, but I only know bits and pieces."

I nodded, "It's okay. I don't really want to know what it all says."

He gave me a sympathetic smile, but it quickly vanished after a moment, and I was confused. I turned my head to see George scowling. Odd behavior coming from him.

"For...fear," Bill started. I motioned for George to start writing, and he hastilly picked up the contents on the coffee table. "Of the magic..." he hesitated, squinting a bit, "It's either 'in one's core' or 'needing explore'."

"Write both," I told George.

"Already on it," he muttered. I could hear the quill scratch the parchment into the silence as Bill worked out the next phrase.

"Fire and water battle together..." he shook his head, "I don't know the next word."

"We'll figure it out, keep going," I urged gently, biting my lip in worry. It sounded like a prophecy...which I wasn't particularly fond of.

"Next line..." He ran his finger along the words and he checked them with the book on his lap, silently riffling through the pages. "Earth and air ... fuse as one...to make... a troubling storm."

That didn't sound good...Bill continued. "Against the will of a Veela's mate..." his forehead creased and he blinked rapidly.

"What?" I asked quietly. "Why are you staring at my hand like that."

"A sacrifice must be chosen."

My breath left me in a shuddering sound and I tensed, my eyes bluring, "That would make you..."

He shook his head and continued, "Death of a loved one..." I knew that was the Latin part. "A years race..."

There was that stupid year again.

"Already three months in pace," he continued.

I bit my lip, it had been three months since Dolohov had told me...

There was a long pause and he was checking some words again.

"I only know the last line. There's three more before it."

"Alright, what is it?"

"For the family isn't mightier than the sword."

"And that's supposed to mean what?" George asked suddenly. "We're going to get run through by a sword?"

Bill didn't look amused, and ignored his younger brother completely, "If I find out anything...I'll let you know. But, I can't promise anything."

"It's not going to kill her, is it?" George asked quickly.

"No," Bill said immediately. "There's no dark magic...It might have something to do with..." he trailed off, his grip on my arm, near by elbow, and his thumb ran over my scars. "But I doubt it. It's a warning of some sort."

"You're Fleur's mate, correct?" I asked.

He nodded.

"And she's part Veela."

"Yeah," Bill answered.

I bit my lip, nodding, "Thank you, Bill, so much for coming here."

He nodded and stood, "I should leave anyway."

I nodded and stood next to him, hugging him tightly. We were always the closest, well, besides me and Ron, in the Weasley family. He was one of the few brothers that could hold an intelligent conversation without being stuck-up, unlike Percy. George was an intelligent bloke, and one of the only that could rival him. Bill was like the brother that I never had.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

He rolled his eyes, "Be careful."

"Only if you watch your back," I told him.

"It's me front I'm worried about," he winked. He was gone in the fire a second later.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" George cried after the fire dimmed down to a few embers.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, turning to face him.

"You feeling up my brother!" George clarified. "What was that?"

"I was not feeling Bill up," I argued. "I hugged him."

"And he was holding your hand," George continued. "And you didn't mind! And-"

"And he was giving me googly eyes?" I finished. "Oh, yeah, George. Because Bill and I are in love with each other. I just didn't have the guts to tell you," I said sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Why won't you tell me what happened to your arm? Who did it? Does Bill know?"

"Because you don't need to know what happened or who did it," I said hotly, turning and walking into the kitchen. I needed a water.

"So Bill does know what happened!" George accussed, following me.

"Yeah, he does," I said honestly, giving George a look. "So what?"

"So what?" George said incredulously. "I'll tell you what! Why do two of my brothers know, when you won't even tell your husband!"

I grabbed the water from the fridge silently, ignoring his shouting at me. And I answered him, "He made sure no dark magic was coursing through my veins."

"Why would it have Dark..." he trailed off, understanding. "Who?" he demanded in a growl.

"I've forgiven her-them," I corrected myself quickly.

"A her?" George asked.

I shrugged, sipping the water before replacing the cap.

"Forget it," I told him.

Talking about it would bring me nightmares tonight. I had pushed them away from me. I hadn't had nightmares since I had started to sleep in the same room as George. But tonight would be different. I could tell already.

"I'm going to bed," I said quietly.

He was silent as I exited the kitchen, "Am I really sleeping on the couch?"

I sighed, shaking my head, "No."

He grinned suddenly, skipping to the bedroom, "Thank god."

I snorted, but followed him. Could I really stay mad at him? That being said, I saw him sprawled on the bed, in my side. "Alright, that's it, couch," I snapped.

"But-"

"Now," I said, pointing out the door.

He gave me a pout, but left. I sighed, getting into bed and falling sleep easily. George's minty scent was still in the covers. I breathed in deeply, and my vision went dark.

Sorry this chapter took forever! It could have gone so many ways and I kept changing my mind, so here it is! I hope you like how it was:P
I'll be updating soon, now that I'm on a roll again:P *knock three times on wood* Please, review!

-Nastya