2nd July

Hours later I was still awake. I read the first page of Paula Neilson's story and found myself in no fit state to continue. I lay there, in the dark with the slight comfort that the bed smelt a little bit like George. My pillow was soaking wet with tears and now I was in that numb rut I found myself in the previous morning. I lay in the fetal position, curled up, arms wrapped around myself. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to do anything, I didn't want to be Katy Belle Lestrange. My name repeated time and time again in my head. I guessed that Belle was Bellatrix's pet name or something and I had been named after her. I couldn't recall anyone in the Black family tree that was called Katy, and I certainly wasn't named after a constellation. Nothing about my existence makes sense.

I don't even know what time it was when I nearly lost it. I couldn't sleep, I thrashed about in bed, angry at myself, disappointed that I was consumed by Bellatrix Lestrange. In a fit of rage, I threw the duvet off myself, slammed my feet on the bedroom floor and kicked my trunk with such force I had to hobble into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat as my foot throbbed in agony.

"Is everything okay?" there was a light knock at the bedroom door and the door creaked open, "Katy?"

With tears tripping me, I stood and limped into the bedroom from the ensuite and wrapped my arms around George. I only realised then how much I was shaking. With a flick of his wand a lamp was switched on and two cups of tea were in front of us, suspended in the air and followed us as George led us over to the edge of the bed where we sat down.

"I'm sorry for waking you…" I mumbled.

"You didn't," he said calmly, "I woke up and decided to get myself a drink when I heard – well – I don't know what it was."

"Foot vs trunk." I said simply, placing my head on his shoulder after wiping away the remaining tears.

George placed his hand on my thigh and yawned.

"You get back to bed, I'll be fine!" I whispered, standing.

George instinctively lifted the duvet and lay down. He must have been half asleep, so I took my cup of tea and opened the bedroom door to sit in the sitting room to give him half a chance of sleep.

"Where are you going?" he asked me, but without waiting for an answer he patted the space on the other side of the bed and said, "In you get."

I reversed back into the room and got into bed beside him and turned the lamp off.

"Can I cuddle you?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course!"

It was just like Christmas in Grimmauld Place, when George had come into mine and Ginny's room. Except this time, I was the one who was upset. He pulled me in close and whispered, "I love you!" before drifting back to sleep again.

I woke up hours later, sunlight flooding the room and George was no longer in bed beside me. I did, however, hear sounds coming from outside the door. I climbed out of bed and poked my head out.

"Oh hey!" I was taken aback by the Magenta robes Fred was wearing. He appeared to be searching for something in the kitchen.

He jumped, "I was just making some lunch, would you like to join us? You could meet Verity and Xander?"

I opened the door a little wider and showed off my pyjamas, "Perhaps another time?"

"Can I make you anything now? Coffee and toast?"

"You don't have to! You're the one who's on your lunch break!"

Fred rolled his eyes, "I don't mind! It's only a couple of slices of toast and insanely strong coffee." And he didn't take no for an answer. He had me sit at the kitchen table and be waited upon, "Sleep well?" he asked as he prepared food for himself.

"Not particularly, no," I spoke honestly, but he looked up in shock, so I explained, "Nothing to do with your hospitality, promise!"

He still looked concerned, "Have your nightmares started again?"

I shook my head.

"It's everything else?"

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing George disappeared off to see you this morning?"

"Thanks," I said as he handed me a plate and mug, "and yeah, he did."

Fred sat down opposite me, and started eating his toasted sandwich. I felt really surprised that George hadn't told Fred what had happened last night. They usually tell each other everything, and it's not often Fred comes to me for information about his twin, "You look lost in another world." He commented.

"Sorry," I said, "I can't say I've been very good with conversation from -" I swallowed hard, feeling as though I could cry again.

"That's alright." He smiled, "This morning alone we have run out of the floor stock of Skiving Snackboxes and have replenished them, we have no more Pigmy Puffs until we can breed some more and -"

"Fred?" I interrupted.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, "Yeah?"

I scrunched up my face, "You don't have to do this… You can go back to Verity and Xander, they're probably expecting you. You don't have -"

Fred raised an eyebrow and said, "And what if I would prefer to sit up here with you? You need to be more positive about yourself. I thought it was about time I got to know you better. Considering there's a high chance I'll be calling you my sister in future."

"Are we gonna be sisters for life now?" I joked across the table, and Fred nearly spat out his coffee.

"Definitely." Fred laughed and after ten or so minutes he announced, "Right, I've got to get back, feel free to come down and experience the madness with us!"

"I'll see."

I did not go downstairs. I sat alone at the kitchen table finishing off my coffee, feeling like I was attempting to live another life. The life where I was the emotionally unstable wife of George and both he and Fred take it in turns to ensure my sanity. Goodness it was lonely, but the thought of going into the shop did not sit well with me. Surely there would be Hogwarts students, people who know me and people who I certainly didn't want to see, never mind talk to.

After the second cup of coffee I made myself had long gone cold, my body decided that it was okay to get washed and dressed. It really took it out of me and I got into bed with soaking wet hair and when my brain didn't slow down enough to sleep I sat up and read the adoption story of Paula Neilson.

I noticed some striking similarities as well as some poignant differences. I felt Paula's pain as I read about her innermost thoughts. She felt betrayed by her adoptive parents who had kept the secret from her for years. She felt like she didn't know who she was. She also flew off the handle a bit. I could understand that. I could also understand her desperation to find her biological parents, but the apprehension of what she would do if they ever came face to face.

I jumped out of my skin as the bedroom door creaked open and a ginger head poked through, "Dinner's ready!"

I felt like a switch had been flicked and I missed out on hours of my life. Surely breakfast was only an hour or two ago? Amongst all my other racing thoughts, now I felt confusion. George had walked away, leaving the door open and the aroma of a tomato-y sauce filled the room. I tried to shake off the feeling as I joined the boys at the table.

"Are you feeling okay, Kathryn? You're looking a lot paler than you were earlier."

"I – um – what time is it?"

Fred looked up at the clock behind me and said, "Half seven, why?"

I felt as though I had been confounded, but couldn't tell the twins, that would only add fuel to the fire that I really have lost the plot, "I'm actually not feeling very well." I told them and I stood, "I think I'm just going to go back to bed."

George grabbed my arm and stopped me, "Sit down and eat something."

I was taken aback from the forcefulness of his statement.

"Please?" he added.

I didn't say anything, but sat down and stared at the food in front of me. My insides were squirming at the thought of putting food into my mouth, but I did so anyway. I drank nearly a whole glass of water trying to wash a few mouthfuls down.

"Is my cooking really that bad?" Fred asked light-heartedly.

I glanced up at him and he smiled, but I couldn't take it. I didn't deserve to be smiled at. My gaze drifted past him, to the window where the sun was lowering in the sky. I felt like a kid again. My parents forcing me to eat a dinner I didn't want to, locking myself up in my room for hours on end because sometimes it is easier to be on my own. The sun radiated warmth and I felt as cold as I did the night blood poured out of Uncle Gary's body. I shivered at the thought. I became consumed by the scene, listening to the sound of skin being pierced by a knife, the cries of Gary, the scream of delight that erupted from Barbara. My mind wandered to a place where I had not been adopted, that Bellatrix chose not to give me up, that I lived a happy life and Draco and I knew we were cousins and went on adventures. Perhaps I would have been a Slytherin, no doubt I would be a very different person now. Maybe if Bellatrix chose me, she wouldn't have tortured Neville's parents and she wouldn't have gone to Azkaban…

A single tear rolled down my cheek and I felt a warm hand touching my icy cold skin.

I jumped. Noticing the tear, I wiped it away hastily and said, "I don't think I can eat any more."

"It's okay," Fred nodded vigorously.

"Can I go to bed now?" I asked like a little girl asking her parents if she can have some more dessert.

Fred's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes met George's.

"Of course." George said, "We've just a few things we need to do, but we'll try to be quiet."

I excused myself and went back into the bedroom and immediately started getting ready for bed. I was cold and restlessness took over now the sun had set. Fred and George were no longer in the flat and the fleeting sound of their conversation had vanished soon after I clambered under the sheets. My head was heavy as it hit the pillow. Exhaustion took over.

3rd July

I woke up screaming in the middle of the night. A high pitched, terrified scream.

"Katy!" George shook me, "Katy! It's okay! You're alright! Listen to me, it's over, you're awake. Look at me, you're safe."

I grabbed the tissue he was holding and dabbed my clammy skin, "Sorry, you two go back to bed. I'm alright."

"You're clearly not alright," George said, sliding into the bed beside me and Fred handed me a glass of water, "what happened? Was it your parents? Or was it one of the victims? Or your aunt?"

I shook my head, "It was new." I sighed to myself and George put at arm around me as Fred sat on the end of the bed, waiting to hear what I had been dreaming about. But I couldn't tell them, not that they appeared as faceless creatures who haunted me, hated me, tried to kill me, with help of Molly, who turned into a dragon, viciously protecting her children and taking every opportunity to murder me, "A bloody dragon protecting her eggs from me when I thought I was one of her babies."

The twins looked at me in shock. I drank the glass of water and rolled over, back to sleep in seconds. I woke up a few hours later, alone, miserable and confined myself to bed all day. Reading about how Paula Neilson met with her mother who didn't want to know her. Paula wrote in the book about how to deal with that sadness, loneliness and exclusion. It was a chapter later, when Paula met up with her grandparents that she found out what she was a product of. At that point I had to close the book.

4th July

It was that evening that I lay awake next to a snoring George, who insisted that he should sleep beside me. I could see at dinner this evening just how tired he was, following a few busy days in a row in the shop. I became increasingly jealous of him as his arms were around me, holding my body close to the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

My breathing was suddenly a lot faster than George's as my mum, dad, aunt and brother all stood in front of me. My pulse quickened and I tried to make a run for it, but the doors surrounding me were all locked and I didn't have a wand. Dad approached me, laughing at how desperately I was trying to escape, his hands went around my throat squeezed. Mum wanted her turn to kick and hit me. My brother Peter punched me hard in the face. But worst of all, Barbara took a kitchen knife out from behind her back and slit all the way down the inside of my thigh. I was held down; I couldn't fight off my father's bear-hug grip.

My scream was hoarse by the time George managed to wake me.

I flung myself out of the bed and hurled open the curtains to see the sunrise in the distance. I rubbed at my thigh forcefully, trying to get rid of the memory of pain. I roughly tied my hair up, which had been stuck to my face. I was pissed off. Only for George holding me back, I would have done some serious damage to myself.

When George left to go down to the shop an hour later, I considered my options to get a release all day. I wanted to smash everything, I wanted to rip things apart, I wanted to blow something up. Yet at the same time, all I could think about was her.

5th July

It was at 5am that I woke, Bellatrix Lestrange once again filled my mind. George was sound asleep, so I grabbed my trunk and lifted it into the open plan area just outside the door. I needed to do something with my hands, something that would calm me. So I sat on the floor, using the early morning light streaming through the windows and emptied everything, one by one, out of my trunk.

I started off by folding my robes and placing them on the floor beside me. Then I piled up my t-shirts, jumpers, jeans, underwear and put all my shoes neatly into a line.

"Another nightmare?" Fred asked as he came into the shared space.

"No," I answered, "did I wake you?"

He shook his head, "I just couldn't sleep…"

"I feel bad; you're probably used to having someone else in the room beside you. I told George to -"

"It's not that, I just woke up, don't worry." He noticed the neat piles on the floor, "Nice undies."

I rolled my eyes at him, embarrassed.

"Sorry…" he looked ashamed, "You're already having rough enough of a time without me making it worse. Cuppa?"

"Please." I said, moving my underwear out of sight.

"Is there not enough room in there for all your things, too?" he asked conversationally, handing me a cup of tea. He sat on the floor beside me, back against the wall.

"I'm sure there is -"

Fred interrupted, "But you hate it here, so you haven't unpacked."

"I hate any place that I'm in right now, it's nothing on you, Freddie."

He paused before asking, "What's going on inside your head right now?"

"You don't want to know."

"Have you been talking to George about it?" he questioned.

"You know as well as I do that the shop has you both run off your feet," I told Fred conversationally as I hoked out all of my diaries, "I know you don't have time to be concerned with the goings-on in my head and I'm not going to bore you with the details!"

Fred took a sip of his tea, "We don't want you feeling alone."

I sighed, "As a kid, after Barbara killed Gary, I spent a lot of time alone, I learnt to cope alone. I'm used to it. I went to school, came home, did my homework, ate a dinner I was forced to eat and spent the rest of my evening in my bedroom. I'm okay with it. This is what I know best."

"But is that not also the time when you weren't coping and had to talk to someone?"

I pursed my lips, "They gave me the tools to deduce what was going on."

Fred set down his cup, "I'll go wake George and we can work through this all together.

"It's barely 6am! Let him sleep, he's exhausted."

"Okay," Fred said, getting to his feet, he pointed his wand in the direction of the kitchen and started making breakfast. He started telling me about annoying customers, trying to make me laugh. He mimicked a woman who asked to speak to the manager when talking to Fred and impersonated the look of shock on her face. That was actually quite funny.

When he turned around with two plates of food, his eyes nearly popped out of his head at my three piles high of diaries, "Are – Are they all full?"

"Pretty much, yeah." I told him, "I've put them in order, too." I pointed at the pile furthest from me, "That is eight-year-old Kathryn, pouring herself onto pages because a shrink told her to. Some of the stuff I was worried about then seems so insignificant now. I'm pretty sure that blue diary at the bottom of the middle pile tells all about the day I met you and George."

Fred tapped the table for me to join him, "I feature in them?" he sounded surprised, "how often?"

"In the early days, not so often, but the older I got and the more I wrote about George, I suppose you fit in there, too."

"And are you writing about me at the minute?"

"Well, you are a huge part of my life right now, so I hope you can deduce what you want to from that."

"I'm sure they would make very interesting reading."

"Read any them without my permission and I will personally see to you being unable to walk properly ever again." I smirked, digging into my mini-fry. We talked and ate, just as easily as George and I usually did, but since I've started living with them above the shop, the dynamic between George and me has changed. I have no doubt that he still cares about me, he has been sleeping beside me, to try and wake me from nightmares and to soothe me when I do. Yet, at the same time, he has been rather distant. The George who I know, would have wormed the information out of me so that I could make some meaning out of how I'm feeling at the minute. I also know that he's tired, and I guess he's just got a load on his plate and is doing what he can. Perhaps he has reservations with dating the daughter of two notorious Death Eaters.

That played on my mind all day.

"Kathryn?" It was mid-afternoon and a general lazy day for the twins on their day off. George got out of bed at midday and was showering when Fred called from his room.

"Yeah?"

"Which outfit do you think is better?" he asked, and I sat down on his bed looking between a Hawaiian shirt and a very modest looking baby blue shirt.

I rubbed my fingers on the fabric of the baby blue shirt, "New shirts? What's the occasion?"

Fred smirked, "I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

"Who?"

"Angelina, I asked her out on a date, we're going out this evening." Fred beamed, he just looked so happy with himself, "Tonight's the first night she's been free with seeing her family and her big job interview."

"Wowzah!" I said, I felt stunned, "That's – great." I couldn't help but think of George. No matter how happy I am that Fred and Ange are going to make a go of it, I actually feel jealous. It's ridiculous, I know. I wish things were different, that I didn't feel like this. I pulled the biggest smile I could muster and my voice was an octave higher than it should have been as I said, "Blue shirt and trousers for a formal night, Hawaiian shirt and jeans if you're going casual."

I then left the room. I was all warm and bothered and needed to escape. I grabbed my bag with my new set of keys, put on my trainers and went for a walk along the breezy Diagon Alley. The sun was still high in the sky and shoppers busied themselves around me, heading to the few places open. One such place was Gringotts where I decided to visit to fill up my coin bag with Galleons and changed some into muggle money.

When I returned to the flat above the shop I was confronted by George, "Where have you been?" and, not waiting for an answer he snapped, "I told mum we'd be at the Burrow forty-five minutes ago!"

I was taken aback by his attitude, "You go on, then."

"Fine, it's not like I –" he paused, grabbing his travelling cloak and slinging it over is shoulders, "never mind."

And he was gone. And he still wasn't back when I went to sleep, either. Neither was Fred.

6th July

The next morning, I woke with an empty bed beside me. I wasn't surprised. The noise from the shop downstairs evaporated through the floorboards. And so my day began.

Yesterday, during my alone time I managed to clear out the contents of my trunk, getting rid of old and broken quills, organising old notes into categories and cleaning up an ink spillage. This afternoon, I found a number of sentimental items – the blue and maroon scarf Granny knit me as well as the pink one, the photo album she sent me and the fabric handbag she made me. Inside the bag, I had wrapped up the 422nd Quidditch World Cup scarf which brought back memories in itself.

After a solidary dinner of cheese on toast, I neatly stacked my diaries back into my trunk again, but from one of the more recent diaries, a handful of letters from my past fell out. The first three were from Tonks, Molly and Narcissa regarding the court sentencing in September, where I found out my parents were to be imprisoned for a minimum of sixteen years. The other two letters remained unopened. One was a thick, blank envelope and the other was entitled 'Katy'.

My heart rate rose as I didn't recognise the handwriting, it was small and neat, in perfect joined-up letters. No-one other than George would address a letter to 'Katy'. I carefully opened up the envelope and gently lifted out a piece of parchment which smelled of jasmine with floral notes. The scent had a strange familiarity to it that I couldn't explain. I perched myself on the floor and began reading…

To my precious baby girl,
Katy Belle Lestrange,

If you are reading this letter, the time has come for you to learn the truth about who you are. On the 6

th September 1979 at 0223, I gave birth to you in a dark, quiet room in St Mungo's Hospital in London. By my side was your father, Rodolphus Lestrange and my sister Narcissa Malfoy. When I held you in my arms I had never experienced love like it. You had beautiful dark brown eyes and dark brown curls and your nose is exactly like your father's. You were so small and delicate and I couldn't bear to set you down. I cared for you, nurtured you and loved you dearly, watching you as you slept peacefully. I don't imagine I'll ever forget you.

Please understand that I never wanted to give you up for adoption. The terms of your adoption were not of rejection but of unconditional love. My circumstances were extremely challenging and I couldn't be the mother I wanted to be and I know that you would be better off without me.

The Dark Lord has chosen me and I will continue to serve him and give myself to him wholly. I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal, most faithful servant; there is nothing greater than this. The Dark Lord is the greatest wizard in the world, by power, talent and lineage. The unpredictability of my life has meant that I have not been all that you need. I hope that you will come to understand that there are some things you need to fight for with every part of your being. My greatest ambition is to create a world for you to grow up in that is pure, where Witches and Wizards rule over Muggles. I firmly believe in the Dark Lord and trust him to fulfil this important task.

Helen and Richard Pink are going to be your parents now, they seem like good people and they have promised that they will love and care for you as though their own. I met them today and the match seemed obvious and you are sitting on Helen's knee at the minute reading a muggle fairytale book and loving every moment of their attention. You've always been a very friendly and gentle baby who loves the company of others. I have informed Helen and Richard of your past, that you are a descendant of a well-known, well-respected Pureblood Wizarding Family and will be a very talented Witch. I know that giving you to a Muggle Family is not ideal, but I couldn't trust a non-Pureblood family to treat you the way you deserve. I have passed on information regarding my wishes for you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and provided information on the Wizarding World where you can read about our world before starting at Hogwarts. I have also enclosed my own copy of Hogwarts: A History, which I advise you to read and become familiar with. Do not be afraid of who you are, keep your head held high and remember that whilst your name will no longer be Lestrange, you carry the blood of The Nobel and Most Ancient House of Black and the Blood of House Lestrange in your veins.

I feel honoured to have met you and held you in my arms. I will never forget your dribbily smile, your bright eyes or your incredibly creative personality. I wish I didn't have to do this, but I have no choice. Perhaps we will meet again someday. I'd like that very much. I will never forget you and the joy you brought into my life.

Your loving mother, Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black)
(27th August 1980)

I sat there, stunned. I read and re-read the letter countless times, what I was trying to gain, I do not know. Bellatrix Lestrange loved me. Bellatrix Lestrange chose Voldemort over me. The words on the piece of parchment didn't entirely fit the profile of the woman I met in the Department of Mysteries only weeks ago. I am sixteen now. A lot has happened in that time.

A lot of things were starting to slot together for me. Helen and Richard changed my date of birth to the day they adopted me. I still can't work out if the actual adoption process was legal. Bellatrix wanted me to know who I was before starting Hogwarts, she wanted me to be a proud Pureblood, she basically wanted me to be like Draco.

I was suddenly distracted by the other unopened thick envelope by my side, the envelope addressed to no-one. I opened it with a sense of urgency, revealing my adoption papers, short birth certificate, and my passport… What nearly sent me over the edge were the four moving pictures that fell onto my lap.

On top was a photograph of me taking a few unsteady steps into the open arms of an ecstatic Bellatrix, who held me into a tight embrace. Her face wasn't as gaunt and her skin had a youthfulness to it, there was no hint of the maddened expression.

The photograph underneath appeared to consist of my family. I recognised Bellatrix at once who had me sitting on her lap, and beside her must have been my father, Rodolphus, who was holding my hand and pointing towards the camera. On the other side of Bellatrix was the blonde haired Narcissa, holding her newborn son Draco and a very nervous looking Lucius standing protectively behind. There were other people I didn't recognise, but there was a definite family resemblance, like my jawline, the wide eyes or the hairlines.

The third photograph was unmistakably of Draco and me. The two of us were playing together, dressed in vests on a warm summer's day on a blanket of what I can only describe as a mess of soft toys. Draco must have been a matter of weeks old and I was a lot bigger and sitting up by myself 'sharing' toys with him. There was unmistakable proof that I am the girl that Dumbledore described. The baby girl in the photograph had an identical birthmark to mine.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked at the final photo: a sweaty, exhausted and triumphant looking Bellatrix Lestrange was holding a newborn baby in her arms, wrapped in blankets. As the picture moved I could see a tiny little hand reach up and Bellatrix gazed down at me. Or was it me? The image was familiar… I hopped to my feet and immediately put my hand on the photo album my Granny sent me a number of years ago. I flicked to the still photograph of what I thought was Helen and Richard holding newborn me. But then I looked to the moving photograph of Bellatrix holding the exact same newborn. The picture was exactly the same, baby, background, lighting, all except the people holding the baby.

If there was an easier way of describing how I felt, I would, but I just felt myself implode once again.

I heard movement in the tiny flat and opened the door, upon seeing him I called out, "George?"

"What?" his tone was short.

"What's up?" I asked, setting the letter and photographs onto the chest of drawers.

He turned quickly on the spot, his body stiff and unrelenting, "What's up with me? What's up with you?"

"Me?" I questioned, "You already know what's wrong with me. What you haven't done is told me what's bothering you."

He looked taken aback, "Why would I tell you?"

"George, what's wrong?" I felt seriously concerned, "Why are you being so off with me?"

He scoffed, "Says the girl who hasn't so much as looked at me, never mind kissed me from coming back from Hogwarts."

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

"Go on, spit it out."

I blinked in surprise, "I have never known you in the entire time we've been together to be so distant from me. You have been here in body, but not once have you mentioned anything to do with my parents or adoption and it feels like you're avoiding it. Avoiding me."

George looked angry, "I have said all I want to say. I wrote to you every day, I talked to you about it, we went over and over and over it," he rolled his eyes, "how many more times do you want to go on about it? Your mother is Bellatrix f*cking Lestrange, GET OVER IT!"

"Wow." I was astounded, "I'll just click my fingers here and I'll just 'get over it' then, shall I?" I went on the defensive.

"What's happened to you?"

"If you don't know me well enough -"

George interrupted, "I don't feel like I know you anymore. I left you at Hogwarts and you've come back a completely different person."

"You have a think as to what has happened… I sat 9 O.W.L.S., McGonagall was Stunned and sent to St Mungo's after nearly dying, Harry collapsed in the middle of our last exam and claims that Sirius was in trouble in the Department of Mysteries, we go to the Department of Mysteries and fight DEATH EATERS, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hermione and Ron all get injured, Tonks gets badly injured, Sirius dies in front of us, I had to sit through one of the most awful talks with Harry, Dumbledore decides to slip in that I'm adopted, that it was my own mother that killed Sirius and just to top it off, McGonagall tells me that my Grandmother was murdered. How about that?"

"It's been almost three weeks!" he said incredulously, "You should be getting better -"

I felt the hurt radiating throughout my body, "Hell exists, George, and it's in my mind." I yelled, jabbing my finger into my temple, "And I'm stuck there."

He shook his head, "It's about time you shake it off and get out of this moodyou're in. Move on! Stop cooping yourself up! Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"Don't you think I have tried?" I screamed, "You have no idea how I'm feeling! You're not even trying! I'm struggling to keep my head above water! I'm gasping for air! I'm exhausted from trying to be stronger than I feel. But the way you look at me, as though you're wondering what I'm struggling over… I feel so alone… I -"

"You, what? Kathryn?" he demanded, yelling now too. The door to the flat opened, Fred stepped in and George yelled, "What?"

Fred innocently placed his hands in the air, "I think you two need to take -"

"GET OUT, FRED!" George stormed over to his brother, "THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU." He took his brother by the robes and pushed him back out the door, "GO AWAY!" he slammed the door shut in his twin brother's face.

Watching George treat Fred like that scared me, I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes.

"NO!" George's eyes fell upon me and he stomped back in my direction, his hands clamped on my upper arms and squeezed tight and he shook me, "NO! NO MORE BLOODY TEARS!" his face was flushed and his eyes were squint.

"That's like t-telling someone who is drowning to 'just swim'."

Still gripping me tight, George barked, "Well, you need to go back to Maura, because you're just being impossible right now."

"You think a shrink is the answer? Do you hope Maura will 'fix' me?" I questioned aggressively, trying to shake him off, I couldn't believe him, "Are you trying to suggest what's best for me? Do you know what I need, George? I need to go back sixteen years and convince Bellatrix Lestrange to do things a bit differently –"

George scoffed, his arms folded, his eyes glancing at me in disgust, "You wish you were brought up by them, don't you? You'd have your nose in their air and think I was a good-for-nothing blood-traitor who was born in a bin and smells like shit. You'd believe you were better than everyone else. You'd probably be well on your way to becoming the youngest death eater, with parents like yours." He laughed, "I can just imagine you as an arrogant, narcissistic, self-centred bitch."

I glared at him, "Narcissistic and self-centred mean the same thing."

"Arrogant. Narcissistic. Patronising bitch."

"Ooooh," my eyes widened, "I'm loving this holier-than-thou approach you've got going on at the moment, really suits you." I mocked.

George scowled, "You should just -"

"Just what, George? What?" I demanded, my voice loud, strong and powerful. I was so angry I was shaking.

"Go find your mother and get that precious life you so desperately crave, see how I care." He spat.

"You know what?" I screamed, "I think I just might. If this is the man you've become." I pointed at him, disgusted before slamming the bedroom door.

I let out an almighty scream of frustration as I furiously started throwing all my belongings back into my trunk. The front door to the flat banged shut and moments later, so did the front door to the shop. I closed over the trunk lid and sat upon it, it was only now that I realised my racing pulse, increased breath rate and the electric tremble that jolted throughout my body. I was angry and I needed to get out of there, but I couldn't leave at one in the morning. I needed a plan.

I sat up all night and made the perfect strategy for me to find Bellatrix Lestrange. I was going to leave at first light.