Prankster Princess

“Go back to sleep,” I remember Angelina telling all the other girls, and she took me down to the common room, making me sit an armchair near the fire.

Choking on every few words, I voluntarily told Angelina all about my nightmare, the nightmares I had often since Henry was taken, and about how everyone blamed me. My parents blamed me for the loss of the only one they’d cared about. And for the first time, I told someone just how it felt, and how it tore me apart to lose the only family I had because I couldn’t defend my seven year old brother from Death Eaters without a wand.

“They…” I choked, “They wish I had died that night.”

“Don’t say that, Vera--”Angelina tried.

“No,” I looked up at her, choking back a sob just to say it, “they wish I had died. They told me.”

“What?”

This wasn’t just Angelina’s voice, but two male voices, belonging to the redheaded twins who were fast becoming two of my favorite people in the world. And before I knew it, I was being comforted by three people, in a huddle of warmth by the dwindling fire, with the Weasleys occasionally spitting out rude remarks about what my parents could do with what they thought of me…the nicest being that they could shove a burning stick up their asses.

After a while, Fred leapt up and announced that this situation called for food from the kitchens, and without further ado, he disappeared into the night. With a glance at George, Angelina leapt up and chased after him, claiming that they’d need more than just one person could carry. I let a choked laugh escape in the midst of a sob as her hair and nightdress whipped out of the portrait hole, to a disgruntled Fat Lady calling after them.

“You do know that we don’t care what they’ve accused you of, right?”

George’s soft question came five minutes after Fred and Angelina had left, and I looked up at him in curiosity.

“We don’t care what they’ve accused you of, whether it’s the toad accusing you of killing him, or your parents thinking that you didn’t do enough to protect him. We don’t care. To us, you’re just Vera, and you’re very important to us. To me.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, letting myself snuggle into the warmth he emanated from where he was squeezed in next to me in my armchair. He tucked his chin on top of my head, his arms around me in a warm, comfortably comforting embrace.

We remained silent for a good while after that, George just letting me lean against him as my tears poured from my eyes, patting my back and smoothing my hair gently and soothingly. We still sat together, in a fairly comfortable silence, when Fred and Angelina returned with our midnight feast of Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, and Custard Creams.

***

The daily routines of helping the Weasley twins with their numerous pranks and joke shop merchandise went back to normal after a week or so, with occasional lapses of melancholy where I disappeared into the room of requirement for a few hours. But I was as well as I could be when the painful memories were dredged up from the depths of my subconscious.

And Fred and his on and off relationship with Angelina let to just George and I planning pranks sometimes, and when left to our own devices we tended to leave Fred out of a few of the plots, as we were the ones who came up with them. Gradually, when it was just George and I, we started on a huge plan - this one with Fred in the plans, at least for later on, but just for George and I to execute the earlier stages - and slowly my life regained the sense of normality I strived for. And yet, there was something I felt was missing, and I had the strange idea that it was close enough I could touch it, if only I’d realize that it was what was missing.