36. Explosive

Careful whispers hushed as the door clicked shut behind me. The room was dark but for a slight illumination from a candle. In my rush to enter away from the senses of Molly Weasley – because she didn't have to see something to know – the thought of changing into pyjamas escaped me, but seeing the twins already dressed for the night had me mentally sigh in relief. It was not as if I had never seen either Weasley in anything less than full coverage before, rather the awkwardness adding to the already accumulating tension that felt like a choking fist was best avoided.

George was the first to notice and nodded in greeting, breaking off halfway through a sentence. Fred followed his gaze.

"I need to take a piss," was all George said before striding out the room, clapping me on the back on his way out.

The flickering of the small flame could be heard in the silent room as I shuffled, crossing my arms over my chest as a shiver ran up my spine from the chill of my lightly dripping hair and damp t-shirt. I could feel his eyes watching me as I meekly avoided his. Their room was obviously lived in, with drafts of advertisements and product samples littered all over. It seemed the boys wasted no time in getting their business started.

"What?" Fred huffed, snapping my attention to him.

"What what?"

"Stop playing around, you're not that stupid."

Instantly my eyes narrowed and lip curled in a sneer. That was the second time tonight I had been regarded as stupid. It was pissing me off. Yet I forced myself to breathe and wait until the smog in my head had cleared before I spoke. He may have been ready for an argument, hundreds of rebuttals and quips in his head, but I was not about to fall into the trap. He would get his frustration out in some other way.

"Are you done being a bratty child and ready to listen?" I asked with a bit more bite than I cared to admit. Calm. I was calm. I didn't wait for him to snap back. "I'm sorry."

He quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, waiting.

"I shouldn't have been disregarding you down there, especially not in front of everyone. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry," I apologised softly, allowing a hint of a smile to grace my features in hopes Fred would respond accordingly. And he did, his sharp eyes and gritted teeth relaxing.

"Don't you want to know?" His voice was quiet.

I stepped closer. "Fred…" Words escaped me, the false assurances I wanted to bestow so he wouldn't fuss. I did not want to be seen as weak. A stinging burn behind my eyes told me otherwise. I was not strong, so why should I pretend? I couldn't even do that, lie so simply. I was pathetic. "I'm scared."

Brows creased, he enveloped me in his arms loosely, offering what support he could. It was enough to open the floodgates.

"I was being watched by some creepy Death Eater. He knows my home. And Dumbledore…I trusted him. I trusted him to keep me safe because you and George weren't there and he still left me vulnerable without telling me and I – I feel so…so dirty. What would he have done? What did he plan on doing? What the hell could I have possibly done against a wizard? I was in the shower! He'd never knocked on the door before. Why was tonight any different?"

It was then that I choked on the air I needed more of, shutting my eyes and melting into his strong chest, large hands rubbing my back and crushing our bodies together. I had to know that I was not alone any longer. That he was here and I was here and we were together and I had no reason to be scared because this house was safe and full of good magic that encompassed my body like sweet petrichor. And yet, the feeling of being absolutely weak and defenceless, a fly caught in a spider's web remained, burning beneath my skin. The worst itch that could not be remedied by furious fingers.

Fred's murmurs of peace filled my ears. I gripped onto his shirt tighter, almost identical to the one I was drowning under. Where it had felt strangling earlier, all I felt now was the aged softness. The feeling of being held in his arms was like the warmest golden glow. If I closed my eyes I could almost believe that everything was fine. No evil Death Eaters. No creepy muggles. No riddles. No lies. No bullshit.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

"Your mum…"

"Don't worry about her," he interrupted, chapped lips grazing my cheek. He licked them dry, the moisture settling on my skin. "We have ways of distracting her. She won't know a thing. Stay."

"But George?"

"He'll take your room. It'll be fine. I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

His words were followed by a squeeze, and I found myself being pulled to a bed.

"Fred, I'm not sure –"

"Ella." He parted from the embrace and held me by the shoulders. A smirk graced his lips, the wickedly devious tilt of his upper lip that bared his teeth like a fox, and then his body was against mine, pushing and pushing until I fell back onto the mattress. The air rushed out of my lungs from the pressure of his weight. His nose nudged mine. "Shut up. You're staying."

"Fred. Get off me, you lump," I wheezed.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, resting his hands on either side of my head and lifting his torso, securing me comfortably between his legs.

"I meant completely. I'm tired," I managed to giggle.

"But I quite fancy it up here. Oi, you read stuff, I'm guessing one of those soppy love stories would go something like this. Hem hem. Blue, lust filled eyes gazed down at the angel within his arms –"

"Oh dear God," I rolled my eyes.

"– shadows from the orange candle flickering across her rosy skin. Lidded eyes exuding a deep passion that burned into his soul, branding him to the end of time and forever after that, a prisoner to her –"

"Why me?"

"– he was captivated. From the…reddish brown…strands of hair like a fiery halo, to pink parted lips begging for its partner to dance with in the art of heavy snogging, and heaving breasts stealing the air from the dank room. Her soul called for him, his body aching in response to her song, hips rolling to relieve –"

"That's enough!" I exclaimed, successfully pushing him off. The effect his words had on me was magical, the cloud of lethargy washing away as I found myself mimicking, well, myself, in his narrative. I drunk in air to calm my speeding heart. Damn that Weasley. "What kind of shit do you read?"

"I got it from one of Hermione's we found lying around the other day. Quite a fascinating read in fact."

He left it at that, crawling up the bed where he lay down, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. His silence hid answers, and as I continued to watch him, I noticed the twitching of his lips that threatened to release laughter.

"…what did you twats do?" I questioned.

He chuckled. "Let's just say Hermione will never leave a transfigured book with us around again."

"You Weasleys are merciless," I said, shaking my head and sliding up the bed, taking my place beside him. Almost instinctively his arm curled around my shoulders, pulling me into his body heat.

"Says the ever hormonal and super violent bitch," he hummed with a pinch to my ribs, receiving a slap on the chest in retaliation.

"Dick. Let me sleep."

Lips grazed my hair and pressed a kiss as he purred, "Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

A comfortable silence enveloped us as we held onto one another, my head on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest; his arm around my shoulder and one hand on my hip as our legs lay tangled. The sweetness of sleep touched my senses, a slumber I would rest through without any disturbances. The burn beneath my skin bubbling as it lay dormant.

"I mean, she's the smartest witch her age for a reason, changing the cover. Who would ever want to read about grammar?"

"Why would you?" I countered.

"The better to sweet talk you, doll."

Lifting my head slightly, I looked down at him with furrowed brows. "Doll?"

"I see it's working already," he said, fingers stroking my hair away from my face. "Look at you, you're speechless."

"Oh, sod off. Think you're so suave and smooth," I said, plopping back down and nestling my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that was wholly Fred.

"I'm the ultimate package. You should feel blessed."

Breathing out giggles I found I was too tired to bring his ego down a few notches. There was always tomorrow.

"Tomorrow we'll talk."

The steps groaned under my feet. I tiptoed on the edges, wincing at every creak and squeal of the ancient wood. Thankfully, the residents remained asleep, blissfully unaware at the visitor roaming the halls with the climbing of the sun. It was just as dark as it was at night, I noticed, the humid heat drying my throat. It was on odd combination, the heat outside seeping in through the old, damp walls, accompanied by the chilly draught that felt as if it lived within the walls of the house. Whatever the weather, I would need to find some more appropriate clothes soon.

Water boiling could be heard as I descended the stairs to the kitchen, and I paused, thinking perhaps Molly sat waiting for me, knowing from her sixth sense as a mother that I had defied her one rule. I did not want to imagine what she would say with her piercing glare. She was scary enough when her anger was directed elsewhere. But then a definitely masculine cough erupted and I let out the breath I was holding.

"Morning," George greeted, his voice gruff and scratchy.

"Hey," I said with a smile. "Bad night?"

"Your room's stuffy," was all he said, beginning to make his tea when my hand stopped his and took over.

"I'll do it, you go and sit down." He complied without complaint, patting me on the head. "I'm sorry you had such a horrid night."

George waved the comment off. "S'not your fault. I would've been fine if the bloody elf didn't shut the window and draw the curtains sometime during the night. I mean, what the hell was it even doing there in the middle of the night? Fucking pervert."

"What elf?"

"Kreacher," he answered, accepting the mug I offered to him before starting on my own. "I swear that elf has it in for us all. Never bothered us in our sleep before though."

"I didn't know there was an elf here." As soon as the words left my mouth I remembered the dismembered heads displayed along one of the walls. Who on earth would put them there? And why were they not removed?

"He knew about you."

I frowned, stirring my tea one final time before removing the tea bag and taking a seat opposite him. "How?"

"Mumbling about a squib. I thought I was dreaming at first, more like a nightmare really if Kreacher's involved, but it sounded like he thought you were in the room. Merlin's shit this tea is wonderful. Oh, my head."

"Why would he have wanted to bother me?" I watched as George rubbed at his forehead, eyes closed as if praying for his sickness to evaporate with the steam from his tea. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. And I've no clue. That elf is mad. Even Sirius says so."

"Hm."

We sipped at our tea, enjoying the quiet awakening of the world. George was the morning twin, ready to start the day as soon as possible. It helped him ease into the day, clearing his mind with the early morning air. Fred was the opposite. Trying to get him to wake up at a decent hour was near impossible, especially after a late night. He worked best when in a rush, using up all his energy in sharp bursts otherwise his feet would drag during the long, drawn out moments. The early bird and the night owl. I never quite understood how they both managed to be similar and yet so different, but it was suited them so perfectly. Twins were not a clone of the same person, but two halves of a soul, it seemed in the way of George and Fred.

In a way, I had always expected them to be alike before even knowing Fred. It was hard to say why I had assumed it, possibly in the way George spoke of his home life and how everything he did was with Fred. There was rarely a story without him, speaking of a bond closer than simple brotherhood. I had been envious of their relationship as a child, and in a way I still was. But more than that I was thankful. So thankful to have been immersed into their lives.

It was easy to forget everything wrong in the world in the grey kitchen with George. Almost as if we were children again.

"So," George drawled in his clogged voice. "Did you guys talk last night?"

"Kind of," I answered, swirling the dregs of tea in the mug. I was purposely avoiding his gaze and he knew it.

"Expand upon that."

"It's stupid," I said, knowing that nothing I said could have deterred George, so continued. "I told him how I felt about it all. That I'm frightened because I have no idea what's going on and the people who do know don't seem to think it's such a bother. Because it's so normal for Death Eaters to watch over me for years and then suddenly come knocking on my door!"

"He took it well I'm guessing."

I couldn't help but scoff. "I was on the verge of tears, he'd do anything to avoid having to deal with that."

"I can't even begin to imagine how you're feeling," he sighed. "Some shit we're all in."

"Do you think it's all linked?" I asked, but the thought of hearing someone else's honest opinion terrified me somewhat.

"What is?"

"Voldemort returning and Rowle?"

Seconds passed as George stared at the table, face creased in thought. Hoping he was just holding off more coughs, I was left disappointed when he leaned back in his chair and spoke. "Could be. I hate to even think that though. I mean, I don't see why it should be. But I don't know much at all. Mum's gotten wind of us eavesdropping and is trying everything under the sun to stop us from listening in on the Order meetings."

"How did you guys eavesdrop?"

Hands rummaging in his stripy dressing robe pockets, he pulled out a flesh coloured object between his index finger and thumb. "I present to you the Extendable Ear."

Picking it out of his fingers, I inspected the fleshy object, noting how it looked exactly like a perfect replica of an ear.

"An Extendable Ear? What does it do?" I asked, unravelling the string attached.

Before I knew it George had plucked the ear out of my hand and ran around the corner, shutting the door after himself. He yelled a quick, "Put the string in your ear," and once that was achieved I could hear him drop the ear and walk even further away, yet his voice remained so that it sounded as if he was right beside me.

He kept talking as he returned with an expectant grin on his face, the volume of is speech only slightly wavering. "So? What d'ya think?"

"It's amazing. And you've been listening to Order meetings with this without your mum knowing?"

"Ah," he started, taking the string and rolling it around the ear again. "She found out alright – she's mum. Went berserk, destroying most of them. We managed to salvage a few, fix up some damaged ones. It really took as back a bit though, but we've been at it most nights and have made up enough that sets us up again."

"I'm not surprised, your mum seems really stressed," I acknowledged sympathetically, thinking back to how friendly and sweet she had seemed in Hogwarts compared to her harried appearance last night.

"She is. Fred's the one who went off on her, but he felt bad and gave her a massage after to make up for it," George said, chuckling and pocketing the Extendable Ear.

"Aw, that was sweet of him," I smiled, picturing the scene in my head as pride flooded through me.

"Pfft, whatever. I'm sure he only did it to get an extra piece of dessert."

I laughed, knowing that probably was the reason why Fred was so willing to please his mother.

"So, other than inventing and being the brilliant evil geniuses you are, what else do you do?"

George waved off the comment coyly and batted his eyes. "Mum seems to think we're absolutely useless and spend all our time sitting on our arses so she has us cleaning."

"This dump?" I eyed the damp on the walls and the dust with disgust. "It looks like you'll need to burn this place to get it anywhere close to being clean."

He peered around the kitchen, nodding thoughtfully as if actually contemplating where best to start the fire. I found myself laughing once again, staring at George.

"I've missed you," I said, catching his attention.

He smiled. "Okay? You do know I've been here this whole time, right?"

"No shit," I rolled my eyes. "It's just…been different. I mean, before it was just us, now I'm with Fred and it just feels like we're not as close as before."

"We're still best mates, stop your worrying. I'm a big boy and don't need my little Smelly Ellie constantly hanging around and ruining my reputation."

"You don't need me to ruin your reputation when you do it so well all by yourself."

Just then a barrage of footsteps were heard stomping down the stairs, various voices talking over each other and one very distinct voice singing above them all. The door was flung open and in swanned Sirius, arms elevated in the air as his mouth hung open, pouring out an elongated, deep note. Ginny ducked under his arm as she entered the kitchen, followed by Hermione, both giggling at the older man's shenanigans. Ron came in after them, laughing too.

Running steps could be heard before a tall figure collided into Sirius, almost pushing him to the ground as he swung off the man's back, black hair wildly swinging in the headlock. His singing stopped, replaced by aggressive growls from both men. The only noise louder was Molly's shrieking at them to act their ages. Although her voice could be heard in every crevice of the house, the wrestling men ignored her, continuing their antics to Ginny and George's goading. Her prying hands were futile in separating the men. Eventually, she whipped out her wand, and with an arching swish, both men were flung apart. Another wave and they were hung in the air from their ankles, breathless.

"How many times?!" Molly screamed, charging into the kitchen as she readied dishes and ingredients brilliantly. "Why is it always you two? Every morning! You'd have thought you both were raised by trolls."

"It's not every morning, Molls," Sirius drawled. Fred kicked him in the shin from their upended positions.

"It might as well be with the ruckus you seem to think is appropriate," she barked back, cracking several eggs into a frying pan and bacon in another. "Oh, Ginny, mind setting out the plates please. And Ron, get the glasses – George! Wash that mug and ready the tea. Good morning Hermione, Ella."

"Morning," we chorused, watching the bustling Weasleys shoving each other around the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Molly?" Hermione asked.

"Ginny, put that wand away now – oh, no Hermione dear, you just sit down, love."

"Mum, my head feels funny," Fred said, fingers pinched around Sirius's ear while the older man's elbow dug into Fred's stomach.

"Arthur! Remus!" Molly yelled, ignoring her son. "Breakfast!"

George, on his way to gather more mugs, passed his twin and Sirius casually, ducking under their waving arms.

"Oi, you two sort your shit out," George shouted in passing, stabilising Sirius's leg with his hand, only to be met with more fidgeting.

"No you don't! Ganging up on me is illegal. This is my house."

"Alright, keep your fur on mate, I'm just trying to keep my head on around you two grindylows," George chuckled. The brief shared glance between him and his twin was missed by Sirius. I smirked, resting my chin in hand as I watched Sirius's eyes widen, kicking his leg everywhere as something red and white latched onto him.

Arthur and Remus entered the room as Sirius let out a scream that was surprisingly high pitched for a man with his image and usual masculine voice. Molly whipped around and the two men in the air plummeted to the ground, rattling the ground and the table. I couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing, failing to smother it with my hands as Molly's wild eyes flew to me.

"Honestly, you two. Shut up and sit down!"

Breakfast moved on swiftly after that and with much more order. All the children were made to sit down as Molly took over and served the food promptly. Fred took his seat beside me, planting a big kiss on my cheek. Sirius plucked the object from his leg, holding it up for all to see as he set a bemused glare on George.

"Nasty Gnashers for you, mate," George winked.

Molly charmed the food to fly onto the table and took her seat on one end after giving Arthur a hasty kiss. Before Fred could grab my plate I scooped some scrambled eggs onto it along with a slice of toast and some fried mushrooms.

"Nice one," Sirius inspected the gag teeth in his hand. "Needs a bit more bite to it though."

The twins arched their brows, obviously thinking back to his girlish shrieking. "Seriously?"

"Am I ever anything but?"

I snorted, immediately catching the attention of the smirking Sirius.

"Something funny, little lady?"

Not knowing whether to respond, or how, I simply shook my head as the twins engaged in using their wands under the dining table.

I soon found out that George was not lying when he said that Molly attempted to squeeze every ounce of energy from us whenever she saw us sitting like ducks. Straight after breakfast, once we had all cleared the table we were sorted into pairs or groups, given a designated area and chore and made to clean.

Lined up against the wall like an identity parade, Molly pointed out who would be working with each other. Seemingly not trusting Fred and I together, Molly put me with George, Fred with Hermione, and Ron with Ginny. After barking out the rooms and rules, and throwing in a threat or two while eyeing the twins, we were left to the impossible task. And impossible it was, as no matter how long we scrubbed and polished, the grime seemed to have fused with every object like a second skin. Nothing shone brighter or lighter, yet when Molly scrutinised our works she always nodded in approval and urged us to ready for lunch.

The routine continued after lunch straight to dinner. It repeated every day, and never was I paired with Fred. Being eyed by Molly Weasley always left me feeling awkward. George had caught on to the pattern after the very first day, and instead of waiting for his mum to separate us, shoved me out of the room and pulled me to our next room.

Fred and I still managed to spend time together. At meals he always made sure to sit beside me, even if both seats were already taken he would forcibly remove one person. After dinner I would sometimes sit in their room as they tinkered with their gadgets and forms. During that time he was too focussed on his work to really engage in any conversation but it was nice just to be in their company. They exuded a carefree and easy aura that I soaked in like a greedy sponge, wanting every bit of their enthusiasm and positivity available.

One night the twins were mindlessly throwing around funny names for new products, most of which I ignored as I attempted to sort through the papers on their desk. Prototypes of advertisements and order forms took up much of the space with few rolls of untouched homework hidden underneath.

A particularly crumpled sheet caught my attention, prominent squared lines indicating to how much it had been folded. It wasn't the customary parchment found amongst the Weasleys, but a lined piece of notebook paper. Peeking over my shoulder to make sure they were still occupied, I let my curiosity win over me. Unfolding the paper I noticed it was a letter, dated only two weeks ago. Shame had crept up on me. Why was I looking at his personal belongings? It was wrong, an invasion of privacy, completely disrespectful.

And then Angelina's name screamed out from the bottom of the letter and my chest tightened. It was nothing, I reassured myself, just a letter from a friend enquiring about whether he was alright. She was worried, just like I had been. It wasn't normal for either Weasley to be quiet for such a length of time. My fingers flipped over the paper and my heart sank further as I saw Fred's scrawled reply and another quick note from Angelina responding beneath that.

I didn't read it. I couldn't. It was innocent, I was sure of it. I was just being the stupid, annoying, possessive girlfriend interfering between two friends. I did not want to be that girl. The letter was folded back and returned at the bottom of the pile.

I never slept with Fred after the first night. No matter how much he badgered me I refused to give in, and he soon stopped asking, stopped caring.

Harry arrived in no time, and with him came a tornado of teenage angst I had never encountered before. I justified his behaviour with never having known someone who had gone through what he had, surviving against an evil wizard and being haunted by him every single day of his miserable life.

It was a relief to see someone else angry at Dumbledore, as all of the Weasleys, Hermione and even Sirius seemed hesitant to utter a bad word against him. I could relate to Harry in the annoyance of being held back from knowledge that included me. Yes, Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, and a good one, but why all the secrecy? Who did it benefit?

Once Harry was settled in he was incorporated into the cleaning regime, and thus Mrs Weasley's groupings changed. Harry was never left alone with Ron or Hermione, something that appeared to be a conscious decision on Molly's behalf, always pairing him with either Ginny or Fred. Apparently having another child under watch did not distract her from paying attention to her mischievous son and his squib girlfriend.

The dining table grew every day with new visitors opting to share Molly's meals. Fred was pushed up against my left side as Hermione sat to my right, politely ignoring me and glaring her frustration out on Fred. We were taking a lunch break from cleaning the downstairs hallways and would be moving upstairs to the bathrooms. I tried not thinking about it, wanting to keep what little of my lunch I had in my stomach.

Fred was proving to be a wonderful distraction, stealing the small dices of chicken from my plate and drinking from my glass. Arthur was home for lunch as well, and was notifying us of something or other to do with some of the rooms in Grimmauld Place. I didn't hear a word of it, instead trying to punch Fred's leg away as it climbed over mine.

As soon as lunch was cleared I was whisked up the stairs. Following us was George, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up.

"You didn't let me grab the gloves," I complained once Fred pulled me into the library.

"Uh, wizard here, hello," he said, taking out his wand and summoning the gloves with accio.

"Right, sorry. Thanks." I took the proffered pair and pulled them onto my hands. "What was with the rush? You know your mum will be yelling your ears off soon, she isn't stupid."

"Yes, but we are going to have some fun in this hell hole even if it kills me," he smirked. "Which it probably will."

"I've told the others, they're up for it," George said as he entered.

"What's happening?"

"Just a little game of wizards and witches hide and seek," Fred answered.

"Basically ordinary hide and seek."

"But with a few added effects."

"If the seeker gets too close the hider can distract them with a simple and non-violent spell as they try to run for it."

"The spell the hider casts cannot immobilise the seeker."

"Or disarm them if they wish to retaliate."

"The person hiding can't be touched, though. Even a simple skim of the fingers and they're done for."

"You game?"

There were so many consequences, yet I didn't care. Living in Grimmauld Place under constant restraint and orders was strangling. I was drowning and needed a moment to breathe. I grinned at the twins, nodding.

"Great! Who's seeking?" Fred exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"Everyone's gone to hide already."

The twins each held out a fist, shook them three times and revealed a ball and single finger.

"Ha! I got the resurrection stone," George said.

"I still don't get how the stone beats the elder wand," Fred groaned, frowning down at his hand. "I could just burn it to dust."

"Whatever, sore loser. Come on, Ella, this arse cheats so we only have around ten seconds to hide."

"One…two…"

"Run!"

George was gone in the blink of an eye. Hearing that Fred was already at six I ran out of the room as quietly as I could.

Many of the doors were locked and so the first door that opened I entered. Only seconds later the floorboards outside creaked under Fred's weight. Inhaling sharply, I moved further back into the unfamiliar room, looking for a suitable hiding spot in case Fred were to come in. There wasn't much, and the only choice was the predictable wardrobe. On my way my leg bumped into a chest of drawers that was partially open. Cursing under my breath, I tried holding in my breath and jumped into the wardrobe.

There was a lack of air in the stuffy closet and only a few furry coats that were covered in dust that made my throat dry and eyes itch. Fred's steps were even more muffled from within but he didn't sound very close at all. Soon it grew absolutely silent with only my heartbeat and harsh breaths as company. The excitement of the game had my skin on edge, slowly dulling as time seemed to drag on with no change. Either this room was a really good hiding place or Fred was a terrible hunter. It would have been much more interesting if Harry were the one seeking, I joshed.

The humidity of being enclosed in the small space was getting to my head. I peeked out through the crack, ensuring no one else was in the room before stepping out. Almost immediately a chill crept over my body as if the window was left open in mid-winter. I wrapped my arms around myself, the sleeves of Hermione's t-shirt that she had lent me offering no relief.

A black cloud hovered over my eyes which no amount of blinking could clear. I couldn't see where it was coming from, and the more I rubbed at my eyes and moved around the room the darker and thicker it got until it completely shrouded my vision. All I could see was black, all I could feel and breathe. It was dark and clean. My heart hammered in my chest, no longer from exhilaration but pure panic.

"Fred," I called out, my voice pitifully quiet. I croaked out louder, "George. Fred."

There was no response. Tears burned at the back of my eyes as I tried to find the door, only to run into the wall. The collision had me falling on my back and I looked up to see the dirty ceiling in all its beautiful filth.

Sitting up I attempted to calm myself. It was the poor lighting in the room. That was all. I let the house and the terrible tales from the twins get to me. A noise from the corner of the room froze me. It wasn't a particularly scary sound. It came again, a small whimpering. There, crouched in the corner, was a plump girl.

Every instinct and cell told me to leave, escape from the foreign person in the room and call for someone. No matter how much I screamed at myself to move I stayed rooted to the spot, watching her heaving back. There was something about her that seemed…familiar.

"He-hello," I said cautiously, quietly. No response. I gulped. "Excuse me? Does anyone know you're here?"

She was muttering, but I couldn't make out what.

"Pardon?"

The crying stopped. Her body stilled. She turned her head to the side. And then…

"Fucking squib."

The girl stood up. She was older than what I had first assumed, probably around my age, maybe even slightly older. Her body was filled generously, fleshy and, well, fat. If I felt I couldn't move before I was trapped in cement now, forced to watch her approach me.

Watch me approach me.

"Baby…"

The crooning voice came from the wardrobe I had hidden in moments earlier, and to my horror, a man emerged from within.

"What have I told you about foul language, hm?"

He stroked her chestnut hair – my hair – to one side, exposing her neck as he planted a soft kiss there. My stomach churned at the sight.

"It's for lowlifes. Unintelligent people," she answered robotically, black, empty eyes resting on me.

"Good girl," he praised. His wand pressed against her ribs as he sensually whispered crucio into her ear. I watched in horror as she writhed and convulsed in pain, bowling over the man's arm wrapped around her waist to prevent her from toppling over.

What the hell is this? Make it stop…

He was smirking down at her, only moving his gaze to me to watch my reaction.

"Sh sh sh," he removed his wand, patting her head as she sucked in air. "There, much better. Now, remember to stay quiet. You don't want to disturb mummy now."

Our eyes connected. She was mouthing words but her trembling lips made it hard to distinguish what she was saying.

Help…

The man's hand slid down her torso, groping and pinching as it travelled down.

"Watch me."

Your fault…

He tilted her face up, showing off her throat as she gulped.

Fred…please…

Then his hand was hidden from view as a sob escaped both of me, tears running down my face.

A splash of colour from the corner of my eye had my head spinning to see the twins, gaping at the scene. Opening my mouth, I longed to cry out to them, ask them what on earth was going on and what kind of house this was. Their names on the tip of my tongue faltered when their faces broke out into grins and they laughed. They laughed until their eyes watered and they had to support each other. They laughed as they looked between the hideous version of me and the real me.

But if I was the real me who was that other one? Was I looking into the future? An alternate universe? Was I just hallucinating? That would make me insane. Was I mad? A consequence of being a squib in the wizarding world – surrounded by magic that my body rejected.

Desperate to get away from this nightmare I crawled back on my hands until I hit the wall. My hands shook too much to open the door on my first attempt. The deafening sniggers and catcalls filled my ears. She was still mumbling as the curse from the wand burned and boiled her innards. I didn't care. Fear overrode the guilt. I pushed with all my might and flew out into the corridor, suddenly free of the obscure fist that clenched my organs.

The everyday noises flooded through my senses, from the conversing people downstairs to Ginny vaguely yelling at Ron from somewhere above. I looked around the hallway, noting the familiarity of it all. Closing my eyes would only act as a blank slate to print the horrific scene on. I didn't know if keeping my eyes open would help either, not if I was hallucinating.

"You do know the aim of the game is to hide and not stand out in the open for me to find you," came Fred's teasing drawl.

"S-sorry," I said. From the corner of my eye I peeked into the room. It was empty.

"Where were you hiding?"

"What?"

"Where were you hiding?" he repeated. "I came through here as soon as I finished counting and you weren't here."

I nodded to the room. "In there."

Fred walked in, pointing to the wardrobe. He opened the door as I held in my breath.

"Spacious in here, ain't it?" he commented, sliding the coats back to see how far the wardrobe went.

"Who's seeking now?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, Ron is."

"Come on, then, let's go," I urged, pulling on his arm to leave the room.

"Why don't we hide in here? If I didn't find you I highly doubt Ronald would," he smirked, standing firm and pulling me into him as he stepped back into the wardrobe. "I bet it will be much more fun in here with me."

I was shaking my head at the first sight of the impish curve of his lip. "No, it's too hot in there."

A loud bang sounded followed by Molly Weasley yelling. Fred winced.

"I think she's realised we're taking a break."

It didn't take long for the Weasley matriarch to assemble all of us and get us cleaning, this time supervised. Ron still seemed to be peeved at Fred and Ginny. I wasn't entirely sure what had happened and though Hermione tried explaining I could not concentrate completely.

After dinner that night I stayed in the living room reading an old wizarding fairy-tale from the library. Mostly everyone had either gone home or gone to bed. The twins had run off straight after pudding to get to work on some more products. They needed to build up more stock if they were to sell them at Hogwarts, and if they were as popular amongst the students as they were with the family, Sirius and Remus, everything would be sold out in no time.

Arthur was washing up in the kitchen, allowing Molly to rest after the dinner rush with her knitting needles and yarn. She was sitting in the corner, the quiet tapping of the sticks soothing against the crackling of the fireplace.

The locks on the front door unlatched. Remus and Dumbledore came in.

"Oh, Dumbledore, how are you?" Molly asked.

"Very well, thank you, Molly," he answered quietly. "Ella."

"Hello, sir," I greeted and nodded to Remus.

"Just the person I was hoping to see. Harry in bed already?"

"Yes, do you want me to go and fetch him?" Molly inquired.

"No, no, it's quite alright. I believe it's best for him to not know I came here."

I frowned. "Why?"

He turned his sparkling blue eyes on me and sat down beside me, Remus standing just inside as he closed the door behind himself.

"I have something to discuss with you, Ella. Just you."

"…yes?"

Dumbledore hesitated, opening his mouth before asking Molly for some water. She jumped up onto her feet and scrambled down to the kitchen. It took seconds for her to come back, Arthur in tow with a tray of lemon water. She reclaimed her armchair, Mr Weasley perching himself on the armrest after greeting the men.

Taking a glass from the hovering tray I took a sip of the icy water.

"Do you remember, Ella, when I asked you about strange happenings back at your home?" he asked, peering into his glass.

"Yes," I replied. The dead pigeon. The mug shattering. Moody. It was hard to forget.

"And do you also recall my using Legilimency on you?"

I nodded.

"I believe I may have uncovered something highly crucial. I have not mentioned it before simply to gather all the information together, but I believe that now –"

"You're doing it again," I said.

"Pardon, Ella?"

"You're in my head," I retorted. "That look. You look at me like that when you're in my head."

"I am," he agreed. His voice was so calm it was infuriating.

"Why? What do you see?"

He stared at me for prolonged moments, and then, without breaking eye contact, said to the Weasleys: "I would advise you to be wary of the drawing room."

I didn't need to look at them to know they shared a confused glance. It was such an odd comment at the strangest of times, but that was Dumbledore.

"That day in Ottery St. Catchpole, when Alastor and I were setting up protection spells around your house. You didn't touch your mug."

"What?"

"You jumped up from your seat but you did not touch your mug. It was on the table. And yet, it crashed onto the floor."

I frowned, trying to think back, but the details were rushed and blurred. I must have knocked it over.

"There was a time before, as well. The glasses from your cabinet fell and broke on the floor. You couldn't reach, so how did they fall? And, of course, we cannot forget the birds. We traced back the magic while it was fresh and found who did it."

"You said it was Rowle," I murmured.

But he shook his head lightly. "No, my dear. It was Rowle who tried getting into your house."

"Then who…"

Dumbledore peered over his glasses. "It was you."

The condensation from the glass mixed with the sweat on my palm and it slipped. Remus must have foreseen my reaction, for he had his wand out in no time and levitated it before impact.

"Me?" I echoed incredulously, letting out a dry chuckle. "How did I do that?"

"Ella," he began, and his face morphing from indifference to pity. "There is no easy way to say this. You were not born a squib."

"Dumbledore, what are you saying?" Mrs Weasley asked when I made no move to respond.

"What I allowed you to see when I was using Legilimency on you, Ella. Those were memories, not nightmares. They happened to you, the impact so traumatising that they were repressed to the recesses of your subconscious. I believe that the influence of being surrounded by so much magic created cracks through the mental block, allowing bits through," he spoke so factually, impersonal to the point of me feeling as if this were a scheduled appointment.

"What memories? Nightmares? What is…what is going on?" Molly gasped.

"It seems as if Ella's biological parents were less than ideal parents, Molly," Remus said, kneeling down before me with a hand on my knee. It offered next to no comfort.

"What did they do?"

I shut my eyes as the images flew through my mind, scenes I had thought were long forgotten suddenly right before me. I was ashamed. It was real. All of it. Of course it was, I scoffed internally. The memory of the man burning my thigh mirroring my scar. That was from him. A reminder of my past forever branded onto my skin.

Everything that I had been told in that horrid house was all a lie. They had damaged me, ruined me beyond repair, turned me into the freak I was. And then they threw it in my face. Blamed me and my weak blood. Forced me out as a child to fend for myself, uncaring as to whether I died or not. This life I was living was not meant to be. I was supposed to be a normal witch, one who got her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh birthday, learnt how to ride a broom, experience the wonder of receiving my destined wand from Ollivander's.

But one sadistic bastard ended my life before it had even begun.

The fire grew dangerously, roaring in a loud burst of flames.

"Ella," Dumbledore said, apathetic to the wild fire. "You are doing that. A surge in any strong emotion is energising what magic cells you have left. Control yourself. Breathe in and out. Count slowly. Think happy thoughts. Embrace them."

His voice was in the back of my mind but I followed his words to the best of my abilities, inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly. It didn't take too long for the heat to die down, leaving only orange embers in the fireplace.

"Very good," Dumbledore praised with an encouraging smile.

"I shouldn't be able to do that," I said, shaking my head.

"It's possible, Ella, and you have done it."

"Why?" I whispered. I didn't know what I was referring to, but he responded anyway.

"From what we have gathered with our limited knowledge, as a child you were being used as an experiment of sorts, an innocent little girl to become a puppet forced to kill on order. The curses were used to try and immunise you against them, strengthen you. It backfired, attacking the cells in which the magic comes from instead."

A strangled gasp was heard from the corner, no doubt from Mrs Weasley.

"Ella," Remus said, holding my cheek in his palm. His gravelly voice dripped like sweet honey, calling for me to fall into him. "I know this is hard for you to hear, but there's more. Can you handle it or would you rather wait for another day?"

"Now. Please."

He nodded slowly, his scarred face wrinkled in worry.

Dumbledore continued. "Your exposure to such dark magic fused it into whatever magic cells you have left."

"Sorry," Arthur interrupted. "But what do you mean by that, Albus?"

"Magic in a child is very uncontrolled and vulnerable. The body is unaccustomed to releasing it measuredly which is what results in accidental magic. Although the dark magic destroyed much of the magic cells in Ella, there a few that survived, similar to stem cells." He stopped suddenly and shook his head. "I apologise, this must not be making much sense. They are not actual cells, but magical residue embedded into the soul. It is far too complicated to examine as of right now. Bear with me.

"It's similar to muscle memory, but in your case it is for magic. Your cells, or residue base, recall only the black magic that was used on you, and when in need of catharsis it is released the only way you subconsciously know how."

"Through destruction," I said. "Because that's all the magic my body knows."

He nodded solemnly.

"Like a bloody useless child," I spat.

"Ella…" Molly murmured, but what could she possibly say that could make me feel better? How the hell could she know what I wanted? What I needed?

"You can learn to control it," Remus said. "You may not be able to learn any new magic, we're not entirely sure on that yet, but there's always hope. Never give up, Ella."

"Remus, I'll still be an explosive squib."

"No, Elle, no. You're not now, and you won't be after. I'm here to help you, teach you different techniques. We'll see what works best for you and try to work on calming your outbreaks. What do you say?"

There was no pity in his expression. He looked hopeful, so hopeful and encouraging. As if he genuinely wanted to help me for myself. No secret agendas.

"This is bullshit," I chuckled bitterly through the lump lodged in my throat.

"It really is," he concurred.

"This is really real?"

"Yes."

They accepted my silence as assenting. Against my better judgement I allowed hope to plant itself in me, and it felt good.

The door was flung open to reveal Fred and George, Extendable Ear in hand.

"What the shit is going on?" George asked as Fred rushed over to me with an indistinguishable expression. From their wide eyes it seemed that they had heard enough.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, pulling me up into his arms.

"Yes," I said, burying my face into his neck. "I think so."

He chuckled, his breath warming my skin. "I can't believe this."

"Neither can I. It hasn't sunk in completely yet."

"I'm here for you."

"Fred and George Weasley! What have I told you about using those silly contraptions?"

We ignored Molly as George joined our hug. Peeking out from between their bodies I saw Dumbledore wink before he rose from his seat and bid farewell.

AN: Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a lovely 2015. If not who cares, it definitely wasn't my good year. You've been blessed with another year to create wonderful memories. I always seem to get the urge to write when I'm swamped with assignments. I hope this behemoth chapter makes up for my absence! Perhaps it's a sign towards 2016 being a good year for fanfiction? I hope so.

Thank you for all the follows/faves/reviews, they mean the world to me.

And OMG who saw that coming?!