Look After You

When I opened my eyes, I found myself on my couch in the flat above the joke shop. It was dark, and I listened hard for signs of another person (or other people) hiding in the shadows. After a minute or two, I hesitantly tip-toed through each room, my heart beating loud and hard enough to give me away if anyone was there. Once I was sure I was alone, I walked back over to the couch and sat, staring out the window, desperate for information from Fred or George. I stared about me for a moment, bewildered by the silence in the wake of everything. I couldn’t decide which was preferable – quiet or chaos. At least chaos had me doing something. Quiet just gave me time to think.

I wondered if Fred and George were okay. The entire Weasley family, more like. I knew Ron was off somewhere with Harry and probably Hermione. Where had Mrs. Weasley been when Kingsley's Patronus had shown up? Mr. Weasley had been ready for the ministry-officials-slash-Death-Eaters that George had mentioned, but wouldn’t they have sent word by now, letting me know if things were okay or not?

I had to remind myself again that it had only really been a few minutes. Half an hour, at the most.

But dueling happens so fast. What if there is no one left to send news? What if they're all en route to Azkaban now? What if someone died?

The thoughts raged.

I sat there for a long time, staring out the darkened window. George hadn't wanted me to stay. He'd said 'If you got hurt, I'd…'

He'd what?

Just then, another Patronus materialized in the middle of the floor. Some sort of wild cat with tufty ears? It opened its mouth, and George spoke.

"Everything's fine. Can't come home, we're being watched. Don't reply. Go to your parents' and stay there. We'll send word when we can."

George's Patronus disappeared and I sat still for a moment, contemplating his orders. Go home to my parents at a time like this? Was he completely mad? First of all, I'd be running away from my problems. Second of all, my problems (primarily the slew of dark witches, wizards, and creatures that now seemed to be taking over the world, hell-bent on destroying Muggles and anyone who opposes the idea) would follow me, causing problems on a monumental level. Third of all, did he really think that I was going to listen to what he said? I couldn’t just leave and hope that he was going to be okay. I needed to be there, to watch his back and curse the shit out of anyone that tried to hurt him. He'd already lost an ear, for Christ's sake.

I had already stood, and I was about to disapparate back to the Burrow when I stalled myself. He had said they were being watched, which meant I'd probably have to walk through an entire battalion of Death Eaters to get even close to the kitchen half-door. I'd probably be kidnapped and there would probably be a battle of epic proportions over my wellbeing. While the thought of George fighting for me gave me a morbid sort of satisfaction, I couldn’t risk putting him or any of the other Weasleys in danger.

I changed the image in my head from the field outside of a worn, dilapidated little house full of ginger-headed people who probably knew and loved me better than my own family to one of my mother's kitchen; completely spotless with new appliances and ringing with her American accent.

I took a step and went into non-being. Grudgingly, of course.



Time passed excruciatingly slow while I was at my parents' house. I received no word, no owl or Patronus, for what seemed like years but was, in actuality, only a few days. I wore my pale gold dress from the wedding for the first day, because I hadn't had anything to change into. My trunk was, I assumed, still open and at the foot of Fred's bed at the Burrow. My mother finally offered me a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt, both of which were several inches too short. I took a shower and donned them, if only for something to do.

Still, I waited.

Nearly a week passed without word and, finally, I woke up one morning to a roll of parchment dropped carelessly on the foot of my bed and Herald perched on a chair in the corner. I tore the bit of string from the letter and held it in my hands.

Herald ate Alphonse. Sorry. Miss me?

-George

"You ate my bloody Pygmy Puff?" I said, glaring at the owl. He stared back, indifferent. I turned the parchment over and took a normal pen from the drawer in my nightstand.

Stupid owl. I liked Alphonse. When can I come home?

I rolled the paper again and stood to tie it to Herald's leg. He looked away from me, obviously displeased with the fact that he had to make two trips in one day. Three, maybe, with George's response.

I sent my owl on his way and waited tirelessly for his return. I left my room only to use the bathroom. It was nearly dark when he flew through my window again.

Now.

I let out a crow of happiness and dashed from the room, the note still clutched in my fist. My mother was in her kitchen, sipping coffee because that's all she ever seems to do. My dad, however, was nowhere in sight.

"I'm leaving, Mum." I sang, waving my letter like a weapon.

"Take care of yourself, please." She replied, as if this war were just a stupid contact sport I'd recently taken up. All the same, it was probably better that way. If she discovered otherwise, she might've just snapped my wand for me.

I kissed her cheek and dashed upstairs. Herold was now sitting on my bed, his head under his wing. I poked at him with the tip of my finger.

"Head back to the shop when you're ready." I told him, and he gave a noncommittal hoot.

I grabbed up my wand and thought of my couch, of the black smudges on the walls. Most of all, I thought about Fred and George's identical faces when they saw me arrive home. Of course, they'd be smiling.



The crushing dark of apparition quit, and I found myself standing where I had been when I'd arrived after the wedding. There was a howl of pain, and I looked down.

Fred had been lying across the couch, and I was currently standing on his stomach. I jumped down, then threw my arms around him (which was quite difficult because I was standing and he was, y'know, lying down). He hugged me back, then glared as I straightened up.

"What's going on?" George shouted from the hallway. A moment later, he entered the room, holding his pants up and brandishing his wand, obviously having heard Fred's shout. He caught sight of me and blushed furiously before disappearing back around the corner.

"He was in the john." Fred chuckled, sitting up. "You missed all the fun, Lacey. After the wedding, I mean."

George reappeared, more carefully dressed and with his wand in his back pocket. I grinned at him and he grinned back.

"Welcome home." He said, keeping a distance which was odd because I'd been expecting him to hug me like Fred had. I shrugged the thought off and nodded my thanks, then sat down in a wooden kitchen chair.

"What happened?" I asked, looking from one to the other, "Was there dueling? I wish I'd been able to be there." I threw a pointed glare at George who shook his head sharply.

"There weren’t any duels, no." Fred said, "But Dad got in someone's face. I couldn’t really tell who because it was so dark. Mum had thought to put out all the lights to hide anyone that was still there until they could disapparate."

"What about all the protective charms and things? I didn't think you could apparate or disapparate near the house? I had no trouble, and those Ministry officials weren't any more than ten or twelve meters from the tent." I said.

"Well, they were only there to protect Harry," Fred nodded, "But when he turned seventeen, they didn’t really matter. His Trace broke and so did all the charms."

"That's bloody stupid! The Death Eaters could have just marched right in!" I said, frowning.

"They did," George snorted from his spot near the doorway, "Nearly all of those Ministry people were Death Eaters. The ones that weren't were under the Imperius Curse. They seemed to have some sort of inkling that Harry had been there, but they couldn’t find him. He was disguised, remember, and he disapparated as soon as Kingsley's Patronus showed up." He looked sort of pensive for a moment, then added, "So, it might've been a good thing that there weren't any charms or anything. He would’ve had to walk all the way to the field before he could’ve gone anywhere. By then, he could’ve been caught and we'd all be dead or in Azkaban by now."

I shuddered at the thought of the entire Weasley family, wandless, dead on the ground with me not having been there to help anyone. I wanted to vomit.

"You should have let me stay." I said to George, "I could have helped."

"There was nothing to help with," He argued, "Fred already told you there weren’t any duels. Dad just got in an argument with one of them about how it was a private wedding and such. They sniffed around a bit, mostly because they knew Harry'd spent time at the Burrow before. When they didn’t find anything, they left. We didn't need you."

His last statement was a bit gruff, but I didn’t pay any mind. I had just noticed my trunk, closed and latched against the far wall. I sighed in gratitude and threw them both adoring looks. Only Fred beamed back.

"Figured you'd want to change out of your dress or something. Looks like someone beat us to it, though." He said, eyeing my bare ankles and few inches of exposed midriff.

"My mum, actually," I said, "Only thing is, she's much shorter than I am. Nothing of her's fit, and she'd already gotten rid of all my old things. Didn't think I'd be coming home to stay anymore, she said."

I got up and opened my trunk, sifting through for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I found them and straightened, leaving my trunk open.

"Might want to close that," George said, "We're leaving again in a few minutes."

"What?" I halted, mid-step.

"It's sort of dangerous for anyone with connections to Harry to be out in the open, right now. Namely the entire Weasley family, actually. We've promised Mum we'd lay low for a while." He shrugged.

"We've had an owl from Lee Jordan. His mum and dad have been hauled off to Azkaban. He's asked us if we wanted to go and stay with him for a while. We figured it's as good an idea as any." Fred added.

"You're taking me." I said indignantly, glaring at both of them in turn.

"If we weren't," George said, smiling slightly, "Would I have just told you where we were going?"

I shrugged and nodded and walked out of the room to change. I looked an absolute fright – pale and a bit drawn from an entire week of worry – but it didn't really matter. I strolled from the bathroom, leaving my mother's clothes in a pile on the floor.

They were waiting for me back in the living room, Fred grasping my trunk and George clinging to another which I assumed they were sharing. I took my usual place between them and we linked arms.