"Nothing like visiting the family, yeah?" Fred beamed, wrapping an arm around Angie. George and I were, unsurprisingly, less enthusiastic.

In our post-engagement bliss, it only briefly occurred to us that we would have to announce this news to the family. And, in the Weasley's current state of Bill and Fleur shenanigans, announcing another wedding would either be greeted with utter joy at the immense amount of time we wanted to leave to plan this thing or pure terror at the fact that another was on the way.

Either way, Mrs. Weasley would probably smother us.

Not that George and I particularly cared at that moment. Fred and Angelina were so busy acting out the various ways we were about to be humiliated – hugged to death, shunned, talked out of it, and/or laughed at – that they did not noticed we were no longer blissfully scared out of our wits. While they laughed by the floor, George and I stood in the corner, his hand gently rubbing my shoulders.

"Do you Know who?"

I shook my head. "Someone important."

"Remus? Moody?"

"I don't know, George!" I snapped, but the outburst did nothing to upset him. I suppose he expected it by now, and I was glad that his hand kept drawing circles across my upper back. It kept the ice water from washing through my veins. "Just someone. That's all I Know."

His free hand raked through his hair, and he puffed out a heavy breath as he surveyed his brother. "Let's not tell them."

My eyes flew wide open. "We have to tell them!"

"What?" He frowned at how my body tensed. "Oh! No, not about the…erm…"

Even the word was too much for him. He had been throwing "Voldemort" around as a school boy, but this was beyond him.

Well, it was not too much for me. Not anymore. "Death."

"Y-yeah. We tell Mum and Dad about that. Not…about…" He licked his lips and turned his eyes away from mind, gaze travelling down to where his fingers wove through mine.

"Us," I finished.

"Right. That can wait. One thing at a time."

I nodded solemnly. One thing at a time. What was more important now? The eminent death of someone important – of which I had only the vaguest, most useless details – or an engagement that would probably not result in a wedding any time soon?

The answer seemed pretty clear to us.

I sucked in air through my teeth and let it out in a quick whoosh. With one last shoulder-squeeze from George, I let out a falsely-cheery "Right, let's go," and followed the household into the floo.

When we stepped out of the fireplace, Molly Weasley sprang from her chair, teacup splattering to the floor. Angie began to apologize for startling her, but she breezed right by my dear friend to suck her sons in for the kind of airtight hug only a mother could give. Nervous energy radiated off of her, perplexing all of us as we exchanged glances. "We thought you'd gone!"

"Gone where?" Fred whined, squirming in her arms.

She frowned at me, confusion riddling her features, and let her boys go. I could see in her eyes that she assumed I Knew and took the boys racing into trouble; I half-wondered if we would have done exactly that if I had gotten more information from the strange Feeling that hit me while waiting for Angie to be done in the loo earlier. If it had been more than just a vague inclination that someone important had been hurt, probably killed, would we have gone rushing off as if four nineteen-year-olds could change anything?

Probably. She had a reason for thinking that, after all.

Department of Mysteries. Diagon Alley. We had accrued a record of dangerous behavior.

"Well, to Hogwarts, of course!"

Oh, no. Not there. Anywhere but there. George's eyes, wide and worried, told me he thought the same. If it happened at Hogwarts, there were only so many people it could be. None of them were good.

Mrs. Weasley took in our faces and understood that we truly had no idea what had happened. "You haven't heard? Oh. Oh, dear. Oh…" she looked over her shoulder for support that was not there for her; Arthur was poignantly missing. "Hogwarts…oh, no." She looked at the ceiling and put a hand over her eyes to steady herself. "Hogwarts was attacked. Dum-Dumbledore was killed."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

Fred glanced at me out of the corner of his eye for the third time since he started that cup of tea. I ignored him once again, watching out the window as George stared at the sky in hopes that Mr. Weasley would appear there on his way back from this mess. Angie sat in the kitchen with Molly, waiting for something, anything, any sign that no one else was harmed. Other than the message through one of the portraits just before we arrived, there had been no word of what was happening at Hogwarts.

The floo sat empty, waiting hopefully for someone to whizz through where we had come only a few short hours ago. George kicked the ground and raked both hands through his hair outside. Fred glanced at me again.

"I didn't Know about Dumbledore."

"I know."

"Well then, in Merlin's name, stop looking at me like that," I grumbled. I glanced at Molly's clock, which determined every member of the family to be in mortal peril.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I was just wondering what you and George are going to do now."

"Nothing, I s'pose."

Fred snorted. "Well, you can't do that. You have to get married at some point. I've already got your present picked out."

I cracked a smile. "I'm sure you do."

"You bet your ass I do. When are you going to tell everyone?"

"I don't know, Fred. When would you tell them?"

He shook his head and looked back at the floo. "I don't know if I could."

"How do you think we feel?"

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

No one else seemed to be crying.

How could that be, no one else crying? How was I the only member of the Order of the Phoenix with tears blurring her vision, shoulders shaking from the uncontrollable waterfall? All around me, my brothers-in-arms were stoic, stone-faced, hardened, impenetrable walls giving no window to the emotions within. How? How could they hide the fact that our hearts were as broken as the shell of a man inside that tomb?

We tried to slip in at the back, sitting in an empty row amongst the students. After all, we were barely more than students ourselves, the four of us. I belonged two rows behind Bradley and Chambers, still attached at the hip. We were nineteen years old. Nineteen bloody years old. No older than them.

Before we could settle in, though, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick appeared at the end of our row. Their sudden appearance startled Seamus Finnegan and the heartbreaking lovely girl next to him that Ron used to date, but the house heads were not there for them. They were there for us. With a sharp clearing of her throat, McGonagall looked rather pointedly farther up in the seating.

You belong up there.

I had no idea how many of us there were. Tonks and Remus, sitting together as we all knew they would. Alastor Moody. Kingsley. Arabella Figg. From what I could tell, we were all there. And the entire Weasley Clan, too, from my quick glance, with four empty seats to the right of Fleur. I took the one next to her, since I could tolerate her the best of all of us.

Few faces were familiar. Albus Dumbledore touched so many lives that, despite the obvious mass of students I was only a year removed from, precious others stood out. The Snack Cart lady from the Hogwarts Express. Madam Malkin. Umbridge. Just pricks of familiarity in a sea of unknown.

The music and the words, so clear from where we sat, only made it worse. He was gone. Silence could convey that just as well, and perhaps not as painfully. I did not need the mournful song or the words that could never truly capture the wonder of this man. The wizard with the glittering grin and wise eyes and shameless sweet tooth.

I buried my face in George's shoulder and cried. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed as tightly as he could, as if he thought he could absorb my body-wracking sobs and make the pain go away. I wished so desperately for it to be that simple. Nothing ever would be that simple again, though. Not for me. I felt a tear splash against my exposed shoulder, and another sob trembled through me. George was crying, too, crying silently and stoically so as not to disturb me. He was letting me grieve as openly as I needed without worrying about him. It made me feel selfish. It made me wonder if he knew how much I was really crying for.

We were not just gathered to bury the greatest man I would ever have the privilege to meet. Dumbledore's death was only part of what was being entombed that day. With him, so many other things had died. Innocence, safety, freedom, childhood, peace. I mourned them all. The world as we knew it was gone; it plummeted from the astronomy tower with my headmaster. There would be no more joyous, frivolous nights crafting new pranks and making up stupid songs and reminiscing about what idiots we had been in our younger days. The hardships we had only imagined would be knocking at our doors, and we would have to face them whether we were ready or not.

Dumbledore was dead.

We were at war.

I. Am. So. Sorry. I never intended to go three months without posting, but as life got hectic, this chapter got pushed to the wayside. I just…I don't even know. I am truly so so sorry for making you wait so ridiculously long. The next couple posts are already outlined and I'm at a quiet point in the semester, so posts will NOT take three freaking months again.

Ahhhh. You guys are the best for putting up with me. The best. Hugs all around. You are beautiful, wonderful, and, not to metion, amazingly patient!

Next Chapter: IPA and Lucky Strikes