It's official: I'm a nocturnal writer/updater.

Thank you to my followers/favouriters and two lovely reviewers chocolatecheesecakes and Emmamaysie - I understand life getting in the way so thanks for finding the time to review.

Do enjoy!

PS. (still doing this) check out my other story Mending Broken Souls.

26. Your Warm Lips Rip Apart Reality

Her smile was beautiful, wide and bright in the darkness. A time years and years ago burned on my eyelids in a picture almost identical. It was a youthful smile without the accompanying innocence typically found in such smiles. It was the kind of smile full of swings and rainbows but with bruises from falling down and crazy leprechauns stealing gold.

I focused on the lost smile.

"Darling Ella!" she greeted as if I were an old friend. "Rather late for you to be out cavorting with a weasel clone. What clandestine activities are you getting up to, hmm? Oooh, father won't be happy when he hears this."

Fred glared at the Slytherin, his features fixed in exasperated confusion.

"Bloody hell, not another snake," he muttered. "The babies are the worst."

His comment flashed anger in Abigail, morphing her face into a crazed sneer.

"You should watch your tongue carrot head before you wake up to it missing."

"An elf is threatening me, I'm so scared!"

I winced before any other reaction.

"Oh, you shit," Abigail snarled.

"Yes, yes, nothing new. Move along now baby demon, I would quite like to go to bed."

She shifted her small body, not yet evolved to that of a growing teenager, blocking us from entering.

"I have a message for Ella," she crossed her arms.

"Is that so?" Fred mimicked her pose and stood straighter, staring down at the girl who barely reached his chest. "Whatever it is it can be said in front of me."

"It's nothing that concerns you."

"I'm not leaving her."

They engaged in a silent stare down, both firm in their stances. It was like watching two beasts challenging the other to make the first move, the tension between them bordering on claustrophobic. Abigail was beginning to shake; Fred stayed composed and almost smirked at her impatience.

Eventually, she unravelled her arms and held them at her sides, glaring at Fred one last time before her manic smile returned and she turned to me.

"Enjoying your stay here?"

She stared expectantly, and when I said nothing she continued.

"I did mention to father our little…reunion. He set out an inquiry as to why you were here. Dumbledore has indeed hired you, although it's all hush hush, for now."

"That it?"

"Mother and father were both surprised to hear of you," Abigail continued, ignoring Fred. "Can't say they were very pleased. But…they do have a proposition. They want you home."

The temptation to laugh was strong, the mere thought of the people throwing me out for my blood wanting me back was borderline hilarious. Fred, however, did laugh.

"Come on, Ella, this doesn't sound like anything important."

"They want you home. They are willing to take you back once school is over for summer."

"Like hell she's going anywhere with you and your parasite parents," Fred spat. He reached his hand out to mine, his skin soothing. "Thanks for the message. You wasted your time."

"Why?" I asked as Fred pushed past Abigail. He stopped.

"Why do they want you?" she scoffed. "Merlin knows. I don't know what they are thinking."

"Do you want me back?"

"Can't say it's something I have ever wished for, no."

Fred tugged my hand.

"What exactly did they say?" I pressed.

She sighed impatiently. "Is it really that vital for you to know every little thing they said?" She didn't wait for me to reply. "You're a squib, a poison to society. Perhaps mother pities you and wishes you home for her own selfish needs, she is your mother after all. I am just the messenger. Whatever you choose," she smirked disdainfully at Fred and our linked hands, "It won't change anything."

I thought of everything before and after my time at 'home'. The answer was solid, but I came to the conclusion that not many cheerful memories came from that house with that family.

"No."

Abigail grinned as if expecting that answer. "I always knew you were a disgrace!" she giggled. "A way out of your pitiful, miserable life and you opt to stay in it. With a foul blood traitor no less. Well, at least you are tainting Gryffindor, not that it needed much more. Regardless of what you may think, you are still his daughter by blood, even if your fate has been accepted by the others. That can easily be revoked."

"What fate? No one else knew."

"Not that. You really think father would dare admit your filthy blood to his peers?" she waved her hand, swatting away that notion as if it were as insignificant as a fly. "Actually, from what father says, you are rather well acquainted with the Weasley, aren't you? Away from Hogwarts, where all sorts of happenings could occur away from the prying eyes of your newest…guardian."

It dawned on me, what she was hinting at, but I refrained from trembling at the suspicion and insinuation.

"Father never liked being told no, do you remember that?" she said, her voice taking on a low hum. "You had better watch yourself Ella. I don't know what father has planned, but whatever he wants, he gets. It would be in your best interest to remember that."

"Who is he getting this information from?" I demanded.

She giggled again, and my ears throbbed from the shrill noise. Without a response, she twirled on her feet and almost danced away down to the dungeons.

"What was that about?" Fred asked once all signs of Abigail had gone and was replaced by silence and shadows.

"I have no idea."

I stood watching the empty corridor she had left through. Father wanted me back. After all these years…had he changed his mind? Regretted his decision to cast me out? I knew I would never change my mind, I was never going back to him. He had done me a favour, granting me life in Ottery away from him and the house and his associates. A shiver ran through me.

"Come on," Fred pulled my hand. "I think we could both do with some ice cream."

My stomach decided it did not want ice cream, so I settled on my bed beside Fred as he scoffed his mint choc chip and hazelnut cone.

"Sure you don't want some?" he asked again, licking the dripping ice cream, oblivious to the spots of it on his nose, cheek and chin.

"Yeah," I said. "Why do you think he wants me home? Now of all times?"

He shrugged. "I prefer not attempting to delve into the thought patterns of Slytherins. Besides, you're not going so why bother fussing?"

"It's just odd. He knew where I was, you heard Abigail. He had all these years to ask me back but he chooses now. What's the point of it?"

"I think you're thinking too much into it. He didn't know where you were, he had an inquiry set up to find out who then told him. You could have been dead for all he knew."

I shook my head. "No, he knew I was alive. The first time I saw Abigail here she wasn't surprised to see me, she was shocked to see me at Hogwarts."

"Leave it for now, you have more pressing matters to be worrying about."

"Ancient Runes! Damn, I still have work to finish off for it."

I stood from the bed and went to grab my books from the desk on the other side when Fred's hand pulled on my wrist, bringing me crashing down on top of him.

"That can wait," he said.

"What more pressing matters then?"

His lips swooped down on mine, sharing the sweetness of his ice cream with mine. He parted after successfully clearing my thoughts on everything but him.

"I left all this ice cream for you and you have the cheek to ignore it? Tsk, tsk, appalling. You get a Poor."

His chin and cheek were still coated with ice cream but the drop on his nose had smeared onto mine, leaving a sticky itch on my skin.

"How kind of you," I smirked.

"What can I say, I'm but a generous, humble jester to you my Princess."

"I hate when you call me that."

I registered his warm breath only seconds before his mouth covered mine again, hard.

"I love when you do that," I breathed out during our brief separation.

"I only wish to serve as dutifully as possible, my love," he murmured into my ear, his nose running along my face, down to my neck.

"Then listen carefully," I whispered, blowing lightly on his skin. The goosebumps surfacing on his skin captivated me before I found my senses again. "Do me a favour…and clean your bloody face you child."

I pushed myself back from him, watching him narrow his eyes at me. He made no move to clean his face.

"Go on then," I urged.

"I'm afraid my hands are incapable of completing such an act."

"And why would that be?"

"They're asleep," Fred grinned, nodding to his hands resting lazily on my sides. They were still and open.

"How convenient," I murmured; only moments ago they were gripping me so intensely I was sure they would leave some sort of mark.

He tilted his head, revealing his ice cream covered cheek to me. I sighed deeply and shook my head at Fred, but leaned forward. I hissed when my lips touched his ear.

"You're going to pay."

"I think this will suffice," he mumbled.

Without delaying any longer I pushed forward and pressed my lips to his sticky skin, lapping up and kissing the sweet substance away. I felt more than heard his laughter as I moved from his cheek to his chin. The sweetness was intoxicating, and before I realised it I had kissed him firmly on the lips. His fingers, now wide awake, curled through my hair as his other hand steadied me on my hip. He fell back on the bed, bringing me with him until he collapsed completely, never once breaking our lip lock.

"If only Hogwarts allowed me to apparate…I'd be here every night…"

"You can apparate?"

"Had lessons after Christmas. Guess we forgot to tell you."

"Idiots," I said.

"Idiots don't pass with distinction," he smirked. "Mmm…I should eat ice cream around you more often," he said between kisses.

And then an almost identical voice sounded behind us.

"Please don't if it reduces you to a starry-eyed sap."

I jumped off Fred and rolled to my feet, stumbling into the desk in the process, knocking over a few rolls of parchment.

"Cheers George," Fred said, completely at ease on the bed in the same position. "She kisses me first, for the first time mind, and you have to ruin it."

"I don't really want to see my twin engaged in such intense snogging with my best friend," he made a face, then flopped onto the bed. "What's going on?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"It's been ages since you guys disappeared, I was simply wondering what was taking Fred so long. From the looks of it I should have guessed what was keeping him occupied."

"I told you I was busy tonight. Couldn't whatever you wanted wait until tomorrow?"

George clucked his tongue. "Nope."

"What is it then?"

George looked to me for a long moment then back to Fred, their eyes conversing in that way only they could decipher. Fred sighed.

"Really? Now?"

"'Fraid so."

"Alright, I'll see you outside."

Fred sat on the side of the bed and pulled me to stand between his legs.

"I need to go sort something out with George and it is quite late now so I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"What do you need to do?"

He hesitated, obviously debating with himself whether or not to say anything. He smiled, and finally decided on his answer.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Who are you blackmailing?"

His eyes widened for a second and he struggled for words.

"Where did you hear that from? N-no one. Why would I need to blackmail someone?"

"So you are blackmailing someone."

"Well…" he sighed. "Yes."

"Who?"

"Bagman."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. Ludo Bagman? A vague discussion with him from the Hogsmeade weekend came into mind and I wondered if it was related to that…

"Is it to do with the World Cup?" I asked.

He nodded and continued onto the story of how he and George were conned into losing all their money, and although they won the bet, they were repaid in leprechaun gold which soon disappeared.

Throughout him explaining the predicament a hot fury washed over me and I felt this indescribable urge to hurt Bagman. Fred and George had won the bet fairly and deserved the money; their family deserved the money. Bagman had, in moments, squashed the reality of their dreams which tickled their fingers and hearts for the shortest time. It was unfair, and for a Ministry worker to perform such a crime…it was a scandal.

Fred carried on, explaining to me what measures they had gone to, attempting solve the issue, and regardless of what they said or did, Bagman condescended them, exploited them for everything they owned and then turned it back on them simply because of their age.

I was burning with foreign rage, washed away by short kisses.

He left shortly after, promising me tomorrow.

Abigail's eyes burned into me the instant I entered the Great Hall. I did not need to look over to see her watching me, it was a familiar feeling that alerted me.

Oliver's letter sat open in front of me. When Fred had left sleep did not come easily, so I spent time constructing a letter to Oliver informing him of my meeting with Abigail. I had not expected such a fast reply, but here it was a few hours later.

"That cow won't stop staring," Fred muttered.

"Ignore her," I said, keeping my eyes on the parchment.

He did not know what to say or why my father wanted me back. It was silly of me to expect such answers from him – he did not know my father or my biological family, we were only linked through Bill, who had no part in this.

Suggestions were offered though, similar to Abigail's: my mother must have worried once she heard of my existence in Hogwarts, it was only natural as a mother. But it was not her who requested me, it was father, and I could not fathom a reason as to why he would want me.

"I have never wanted to hurt a girl as much as I do now."

"Fred, stop."

George heard and looked up from his potatoes. "What's this?"

Fred inclined his head to the Slytherin table, and Abigail smirked as the boys stared openly at her. She blew them a kiss, much to their disgust, but still did not look away.

"Bit creepy," George said.

"Understatement of the millennium," Fred said. "What's Oliver saying?"

"Nothing of any use, everything I've already thought of," I sighed. "Maybe I should talk to Dumbledore."

Fred mulled it over for a second before nodding in agreement.

"Does he know who your parents are?"

"I don't think so, I've never mentioned them. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Er, yes! Of course you should. If anyone knows what to think of this it's Dumbledore."

"Ok. You have a lesson soon?"

Fred nodded through his mouthful of lunch, some gravy dripping from his lip.

"Ok, I'll see him then. Clean your face – George, you have a lesson now as well?"

"Yup. We're free in two hours though. Merlin, does that girl know any manners? It's like she's staring me down starkers."

"Just ignore her," I repeated more firmly.

I folded the letter and pocketed it, concluding that staring at the unhelpful words would do nothing in helping me find an answer. Dumbledore was sitting at the staff table, but instead of eating he was watching me carefully.

Hermione was sat opposite me a few seats down, excluded from the deep conversation that Ron and Harry were engaged in. She was scribbling furiously into a book, biting her lip as if it helped her concentration in the noisy Hall. She had figured out Fred and George's plans of blackmailing Bagman. She had told me she had overheard them, but Fred had denied this, saying how careful he and George were and that Hermione must have deduced it herself from a series of clues.

It had crossed my mind to ask her, but although we had engaged in conversations previously, I did not know the girl very well apart from her commitment to freeing house elves. I didn't feel comfortable unloading my private life onto her. Watching her, you could practically see her thoughts whirling around in her bushy head, whizzing this way and that in an organised cluster, like the patterns of bees operating around each other in perfect harmony. She was a work of art in all her modern femininity, ambitious and independent unlike any other. She was a beauty from the inside, a rarity. And this frightened me - she frightened me.

I grabbed Fred's wrist and checked the time: a few minutes before the end of lunch.

"I should be going now before there's a rush to leave," I said, pushing my plate away and tightening the robes around me. They were overly long, leaving me feeling drowned, but the smell of Fred engulfed me in such a way that I did not care of how childlike I looked.

"You want me to come with?" Fred asked.

"No, but if you see Abigail following me then…it's up to you. She won't do anything though."

He did not appear to be pleased with my answer but relented nonetheless. Fred pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, and stroked my hand before allowing me to leave, sending me off with a wink.

Abigail watched me exit the Great Hall, but she did not follow.

It was a quiet walk to Dumbledore's office as everyone was at lunch. I waited by the gargoyle, and soon I heard chattering from students on their way to lessons but Dumbledore still had not arrived. Instead of standing outside the headmaster's office attracting attention, I turned to the gargoyle and knocked my head for the password.

"Choco balls? No…er…Crunchy Nut Clusters? No, that's the muggle cereal, Ella you idiot. Umm…" the voices were getting closer, and the more I struggled to think the less articulate my thoughts became. "Cock rin – what? No Ella! Ugh! Choc…cockroach…crunchies? Cockroach – Cockroach Clusters!"

The gargoyle shifted and revealed a staircase to which I ran up quickly. I reached the top heaving and entered the circular office. Fawkes was perched on his seat on Dumbledore's desk. Upon seeing me the phoenix trilled and flapped its wings. The warmth of the bird was soft beneath my fingers and she curled into my hand as I stroked her feathers and scratched her head.

"She is particularly fond of you," Dumbledore's voice came from behind me. He was smiling over his spectacles.

"She's a wonderful creature," I said, resuming my strokes when Fawkes nudged my still hand. "Sorry for coming in without permission."

"It is understandable. Please, sit."

We both took our seats. I remembered feeling impossibly nervous once before I had been in this seat, Dumbledore watching me as if reading my mind opposite, but I felt at ease.

"What is it you wish to speak to me of?"

"A third year Slytherin, her name's Abigail. She's my…she's my sister."

His eyes widened a fraction, but the remained of his face was neutral. "Oh. That is rather surprising news."

"Well, I saw her last night –"

"Past curfew, I presume?"

I fidgeted under his gaze, scolding myself for having forgotten the time of the incident. "Yes sir."

He smiled. "Carry on."

"She said she had a message for me. From my father…he said he wants me back."

Dumbledore sat in silence, contemplating my words for long moments before humming.

"Hmm, I see. And you wish to go?"

"No! No, of course not."

"Ella, what are your plans for the summer?" he inquired.

"I…" I had not thought of this at all. I had assumed I would stay at my home in Ottery, perhaps ever visit the Weasleys now that I knew they were wizards and lived so near. "I thought I'd stay in Ottery St. Catchpole."

He nodded slowly. "Of course. You have every right. I believe you are of age in the muggle world?"

"Well, the house is paid off – has been for years thanks to Bill. I can pay the bills with the income from the shop and my wages from working here. I have older friends if there's any need for me to stay somewhere, or at the Weasleys."

"Then I see no problem. Unless, there is something else that is bothering you?"

It astonished me how easy it was for him to read people – or was it just me? Was I that much of an open book? "My father, he's very…stubborn. And persistent. When he wants something he gets it. And he knows my home in Ottery. I'm afraid he'll come to get me regardless of my choice."

"What is it he wants you for?"

"I don't know. It's driving me mad!"

His gaze penetrated me once more, more serious than before. "Who is your father?"

I gulped. I did not want to answer this. "He's not a good man."

"Has he inflicted you with pain previously?"

My mouth was dry. I nodded. Dumbledore stayed silent and eventually, I found enough strength in me to utter his name.

"Yaxley."

His expression took me by surprise; it was as if he was expecting this answer. He looked at me solemnly, his lips downturned.

"I see. And are you aware of his…past associates?"

"The people he worked with?" I frowned. "They were always around for parties, or gatherings and meetings. Why, are they relevant?"

"You do not know of his affiliations?"

"What do you know?" my breathing became sharp and short. Dumbledore knew of my father. He knew something that I did not, and whatever it was, it was not good.

He frowned and looked up to Fawkes, lightly stroking her feathers.

"I am afraid to be the bearer of bad news yet again, my dear. It seems bad news has a way of haunting us. Yaxley was a follower of Lord Voldemort. Your father was a death eater."

With news such as this I would have thought my skin would burn and my vision would blur, and I would capitulate to the shadows of unconsciousness. None of this happened. I was numb. My body was still and my heart thumped evenly. In the back of my mind I knew it all made sense: his use of the Dark Arts, his infatuation with purebloods and blood purity. My lack of thoughts on my real family had left them a jumbled puzzle, and with a few words of truth from Dumbledore the puzzle fitted together in a panorama of darkness and suffering.

Abigail's hatred of Fred also became clear: Yaxley must have indoctrinated her with his pureblood manic views. What else could have done it? Even with the fall of Voldemort his opinions had not changed. And why should they have? He did not adopt those views because of Voldemort, he simply followed him because he had the means to make their vision a reality.

"If he's a death eater and he wants me for something, will he come after me once school is over?"

"It is possible."

I nodded stiffly.

"Perhaps you should return to your dorm, rest for a bit, calm yourself. There is nothing to worry about for now. You are at Hogwarts, you are safe."

"For now," I murmured.

Dumbledore must have heard, for he straightened himself a bit and clasped his hands on the table.

"I will make sure he does not get to you. If Yaxley plans to force you away from Ottery I shall do everything in my power to keep you safe. You have my word, Ella."

His words sunk in and so did the reality of everything that had been dumped on me.

My father was a death eater.

He wanted me for some unknown reason.

I was vulnerable.

I was in danger.

"Oh god," my head fell in my hands and my body caught up on this new anxiety. My throat burned with rotten acid and my stomach wheezed painfully.

Dumbledore's hand on my shoulder caused me to look up into his sparkling blue eyes, magnifying me to them when I wanted to squeeze them shut and burrow deep into the ground.

"Sleep Ella, you will feel better once you rest." His voice repeated itself in my mind, enticing my body to react.

"Sleep Ella, you are not in danger."

"Sleep."

I awoke in my dorm, blinking out the sleep and blurriness from my heavy eyes. Bonnie was humming from the adjacent bathroom and there was a figure sitting on the edge of my bed.

"What time is it?" I asked, my voice coming out groggy.

He looked up and smiled. "Almost six in the morning."

"I was out for…how long?"

"According to Dumbledore about fifteen hours or so."

My eyes flew open. "What!"

Fred chuckled. "I know! I couldn't believe it either. Never knew you to be such a lazy sod."

I sat up and stretched, my muscles aching from the deprivation of prolonged movement. Several joints popped causing Fred to wince.

"Merlin that sounds horrible. How can you stand it?"

I shrugged.

Fred, after yanking his shoes off and throwing them across the room, pulled himself up the bed and leaned on his side facing me.

"What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I am in bed," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

"In your own bed in your dorm."

"How could I when you're obviously stressed out over whatever Dumbledore told you?"

He looked uncharacteristically worried that I was tempted to make a joke as to whether he was in fact Fred Weasley.

"Is it to do with your dad?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Did you stay up all night?" I asked. He looked tired, but his eyes were alive and fully awake.

"Yeah, I distracted myself with veela porn. Don't change the subject."

I leaned against the wall behind the bed and stared ahead of me.

"Not now," was all I said, and Fred complied.

"But you will tell me? Soon?"

A smile broke out on my face as his face looked up at mine. My fingers dived into his long hair and gripped it from the base.

"I will tell you. Soon."

He grinned. His eyes flew to my lips and then back to my eyes, then returned to my lips, lingering there for long seconds before pulling himself up a bit.

"Miss Ella!"

Fred flopped back onto the bed with a quiet sigh.

"Oh, Miss Ella! Bonnie was so worried when Dumbledore brought you here sleeping. I is instructed to give you this."

She held up a bottle in her thin bony fingers. The label read Dreamless Sleep Potion, and in her other hand was a wet washcloth.

"Is all this necessary?" I half groaned.

"Dumbledore's orders," Bonnie chirped. She handed me the bottle first and informed me to only take a sip as I had already slept for longer than expected. Then, once I lay down comfortably, she passed the washcloth to Fred who swiped my hair away and placed it on my head.

"Am I hot?" I asked once the covers were pulled over me by Bonnie.

"You have no idea," Fred sniggered. I sent him a glare.

"You had a bit of a temperature earlier. We're just taking precautions."

I hummed out my acknowledgment through a yawn, noticing the potion taking its quick effect.

Fred once again lay beside me and danced his finger over my exposed neck in bizarre patterns. My eyelids fluttered closed at his soft touch and my breathing mellowed. All I could focus on was his skin on mine and how delicious it felt.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" I mumbled through my half induced sleep.

He chuckled. "Took you this long to figure it out?"

"You weren't always. You used to be a shite."

A laugh erupted from him. "I hear mum say that a lot. Never to our faces, of course."

The image made me smile: a short red headed woman scolding her taller sons, all the while wielding what could only be considered a dangerous weapon in her hands. Then, following that scene, a man would walk in, head full of redness and his face joyful. He would kiss his wife on the cheek, calming her somewhat and allowing his sons their escape to produce more mischief. In the next room there would be happy conversations and laughter everywhere, filling the room with a light only a family could. And children. The innocence of the many children would make even the grumpiest of people smile, all playing and skipping and telling stories of pranks and happy days.

"She sounds marvellous."

"Sleep, love."

His lips left a spark on my cheek, my nose, my forehead, and finally my lips.