Let Me Dream, Let Me Stay.

Autumn's mother pushed the small and tired girl into one of the kitchen chairs, bound tightly with brown leather and stiffly uncomfortable. Autumn shifted nervously. Her father was closing the shades, folding parchment between his spindly fingers. They had been on edge since the wedding, when she had disappeared in the mad rush with George. Her cheeks turned pink at the memory, and she smoothed her dark brown hair, staring at the paisley skirt of her dress, hoping she wasn't about to be lectured. Her mother, who was a carbon copy of Autumn, stood in front of her daughter and sighed. “Autumn, you must be informed of the upcoming dangers,” Her mother said sternly, her greying hair tied firmly in a bun in the back of her head. Her eyes were daggers. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could use his Death Eaters against us any day now,” She continued, before Autumn's father came forth, his hands clasped behind his back.

Daniel Warner worked at the Ministry beside Arthur Weasley, but as Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. He was a tall and thin man with balding hair, and rarely spoke, unless he thought he knew what he was talking about. Autumn hated how uptight he was, but never defied his wishes. “You will not speak to strangers, nor associate yourself with magic unless in a safe place. When you go to work in the Muggle town, you will speak to no one, and look at no one. Will you not eat or drink anything anywhere but here, and you will avoid those you do not know. Do you understand me?” Daniel said, his wife, Margret, pushing closer to the shrinking Autumn, who was scared. Her woven white ballet flats were curling beneath her toes, and her thin and smooth shoulders were sinking closer to her chest.

“Autumn, did you hear your father?” Margret asked, her voice cracking like a whip against Autumn's quiet mood. Autumn brushed her bangs from her face, and took a deep breath as she clung to the sleeve of her peacoat, hanging on the back of her chair.

“I understand, Father,” Autumn said, her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth hard, as if she was forcing the words. Her perfectly white and straight teeth smashed against each other, her blood pumping. She didn't understand why her parents treated her like a child, a child who couldn't handle her life. She was glad to be moving out once all this silly business was over. Daniel stood carefully, keeping his hands behind his back.

“Oh, and stay away from those Weasley boys. If there's a scent that attracts Death Eaters, it's blood traitors. And there is no bigger family of blood traitors that the Weasley family,” Daniel said critically, and Autumn felt herself being pushed to her feet, her face turning red and her tiny fists clenched against her slim body.

“How dare you say that about them!” She yelled, what little part of her mind that wasn't focused on George already instantly went back to him, her mind racing as her heart rate increased, her small body radiating anger at her father. Her father had attended their eldest's wedding, and had congratulated them with a drunken smile, and her mother and Molly were the greatest of friends. “You're their best friends, and you try to keep me away from them? What is wrong with that picture?” Autumn said, feeling oddly liberated by standing up to her parents.

Her entire life, Autumn had been restricted by her parent's rules. From when she was two years old to thirteen, when all the other kids and their parents thought that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally dead and gone, Daniel and Margret Warner kept her daughter hidden from the world. They were deathly afraid of anything happening to the young Autumn, and kept her restricted from the world. When she was old enough to attend Hogwarts, they sent her owls everyday, and were happy when she was put into the Ravenclaw house. Nothing bad happened to those there, apparently. They weren't as pleased, however, when Autumn befriended the rambunctious and obnoxious Savannah Morgan. There was no Hogsmeade for Autumn in her third year, and definitely no attending the Triwizard Tournament when she was in her sixth year. Autumn had been restricted her entire life, her social cues all learned from books, as well as her first words and formed sentences.

And Autumn Katherine Warner, at eighteen years old, was sick of it.

Daniel raised his brows at his daughter, before speaking with a surprisingly calm voice. “We never said they were a bad family, dear. But just look at their son, Ronald. I'm sure his friendship with that damned Harry Potter is the reason those Death Eaters were at the wedding. They aren't bright, those Weasley sons,” Daniel said, as if this was a real tragedy. Autumn clenched her fists tighter, her teeth putting so much pressure on the other it was giving her a headache.

“Harry Potter is a kind, sweet, and overall good boy,” Autumn said, before releasing her teeth, leaning on her right side and rolling her eyes, a typical Vanna thing to do when she was mad at her parents. “Not that you would know, of course, since you don't bother to get to know anyone before you judge them harshly,” Autumn said quietly, and her mother gasped loudly.

“Autumn Katherine Warner! How dare you speak to us like that!” Her mother exclaimed, as if this was horrifying to her. “I thought we raised you better than that,” Her mother said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her horse like mouth and shaking her head. Autumn sighed, throwing her peacoat over her shoulders and grabbing her bag from the table.

“You didn't raise me, Mother,” She said as she walked towards the front door and out into the storm that had been attacking the hills of their town for awhile now. Autumn wrenched the door open, and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I raised myself.”

Autumn stepped out into the rain, not yet sure where she was going, but was only sure that she would be severely punished when she got home. But she didn't care. She had taken great offense to the insult of her mind bug, as she called him. George Weasley was the only thing that filled her mind when she was awake, and flashes of their short time together was all she dreamed of. Sometimes, she prayed to stay asleep, just so she could see his face one more time.

Since in times like these, no one knew if they would see the ones they loved again.