Look After You

April dawned with not much other than a bit of warm weather. We still didn't leave the cabin often, but we left the windows and door open as much as we could. After months of being confined to four walls and rough-hewn floors, any breath of fresh air was a welcome change.

Remus came a few more times after his visit in March. Tonks had her baby (which came as a shock because Remus had never mentioned her being pregnant in the first place). He also brought news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione who were, at last report (which had been sometime around April twenty-fifth), safe at Bill and Fleur's house on the coast. I was washed through with relief and a new positivity at all the good news and, well, I suppose everyone else was, too.

We grinned at each other like idiots most days. Fred was teaching me a few of his little magic tricks and I was teaching myself different ways of getting inventive with our meager food supplies. Lee, who had always been the most upbeat out of our little quartet, was even more buoyant. George, though, was a different story.

He always seemed to be brooding, sitting near us but never partaking in any activities. He smiled noticeably less than Fred, Lee, or I, and it worried me. He was angry all the time, yelling for stupid reasons and holding grudges. I never tried to ask him about it, though something in my stomach nagged at me to do so.

George had always been my constant. He had been my best friend – closer even than Fred – since I had known him. He was usually unwaveringly cheerful; more sensible than Fred but still wild enough to make me laugh. The change in him was startling. I hadn’t seen him go so long without laughing through the entire time I'd known him. Not to mention, his attitude toward me had changed. There wasn't any more physical intimacy; no snogging, no stolen kisses, no hand-holding or arms around the shoulders. He was colder, pulling away from me for reasons I didn't know and probably wouldn't understand if I did.

Regardless, I tried my hardest to brush the feeling of uneasiness away. It was the war, I was sure. It had everyone down.

One afternoon while I was coming back from a scavenging trip in a nearby town, I caught sight of myself in the reflection of a cabin window. I nearly dropped everything I was carrying.

My face was gaunt, sharper, skin drawn tight over my cheekbones. My eyes looked larger, bluer. These features were framed by thick, matted, unkempt hair that tumbled into my face and onto my chest; I turned my head slightly to look over my shoulder and found that it had grown almost past my tailbone with the months in the cabin. My body was thinner, willowy. It could have been a model's reflection; the forlorn, wispy, high-cheekboned face and wild hair. I hated it. It was feral, like something that had never seen the light of day. I grimaced in disgust and hurried on, through the open door and into the cabin.

I dropped the food and toiletries I had gotten in town onto the table, then hurried toward my trunk. I dug through it for a hair-tie or a brush. I only found the hair-tie but, in the process, found the fake galleon from Dumbledore's Army. Had all that really happened or was it another lifetime? I wasn’t sure, even as I held the glittering thing in my palm. It burned my skin slightly. The feeling wasn't unpleasant. I tried to remember what it meant and tugged my hair into a ponytail, the elastic thumping delicately between my shoulder blades.

I gasped.

"The galleon!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and whirling around. The Twins, who had been reclining across the floor stared up at me blankly. Lee poked his head out from the bathroom.

"The galleon! From Dumbledore's Army!" I held it between my fingers and shook it for emphasis, "It's burning!"

No one seemed as excited about it as I was. They all shrugged simultaneously and returned to whatever they had been doing. Lee closed the bathroom door.

George shrugged, "It's old. Probably not working like it used to."

"Something's going on at Hogwarts!" I insisted, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.

"No, there's not." George muttered. Fred didn’t reply.

"Yes there is, George! Feel it for yourself." I tried to hand him the coin, but he drew his hand away from mine with an expression resembling disgust. I stared, bewildered, the galleon forgotten against my palm.

"What's going on?" I asked, furrowing my brow a bit.

"It's not a game, Lacey!" He said, glaring up at me, "It's not Dumbledore's Army! People are dying." His tone was condescending. My mouth fell open.

"I bloody well know people are dying." I snapped, glaring back. It was as if something in me had broken. After weeks of George's coldness, the hurt and apprehension and confusion I'd been feeling boiled to the surface quicker than I knew how to deal with.

"Hey, now." Fred said, sitting up and holding his hands out as if trying to push something away, "What's all this?" He was talking mostly to his brother, a frown creasing his forehead.

George stood up, his fists clenched. I felt my own muscles tense and a distant part of my brain wondered how we had gotten to this point over a few words and a coin. What is going on?

"You're immature, Lacey. You think this is all some big game. It's easy for you! You weren't around the last time. You don't know how bad it really is because you've never seen it before!" George's face was red, now, his freckles a few shades darker than normal.

"You were three years old! Don't talk to me about never having seen it before, boy, because neither have you." I had gotten close to him, my pointer finger jabbing into the center of his chest.

Fred was there, then, pushing us apart. "Wow, you guys should stop." He said, glancing between George and me.

"I won't bloody stop. George is being a fucker." I forcibly brushed a few wild strands of hair out of my face.

"Lacey should just run home and snap her wand. That's what she wanted to do in the first place and I don't know what stopped her." George said, his eyes narrowed and his face screwed up in scowl that I had never seen him wear before. It made him unrecognizable.

My mouth fell open and I took a few steps back. Even Fred looked incredulous, then furious, then disgusted. I stared openly, my eyes burning. Something crossed George's face that looked completely out of context. Something like pleading? I didn’t care, much. Snapping my wand would have meant little or no contact with the Twins, little or no contact with the entire Wizarding World. George knew that. After months of... I didn't know what, of kisses and feelings I couldn't quite explain, here he was telling me to leave, to leave him. I was incredulous. I was confused. Above all, I was hurt so badly I could feel it in my chest.

I turned and stalked out of the cabin, wand in one hand and galleon in the other. I was just off the porch when I took a step and disapparated. For all I cared, George could stay where he was, watching the war from afar. I belonged on the front lines, fighting to prove how badly I wanted to erase the fact that snapping my wand had ever crossed my mind.

When every last Death Eater was dead, when George saw that I wasn't immature, that I understood the gravity of the situation, I'd give him what he wanted. I'd snap my wand. He'd never see me again.



I found myself in Hogsmeade under cover of darkness and stars. I looked around warily, well aware of the circumstances at Hogwarts those days. Death Eaters teaching every class, dementors prowling the grounds. Even as I thought this, a chill had passed over me; unnatural and sickening. I wasn’t sure I could produce a Patronus after leaving the cabin, so I dashed into the nearest building without bothering to see which it was. I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, grinding my fist against my forehead. The chill disappeared almost instantly, but that sickening feeling remained, curling into the pit of my stomach like vomit. I couldn’t understand it, and then I felt the burn of the galleon in my hand again. I remembered George's words.

Oh. Right.

I opened my eyes to stare around me again. An older man was standing at a beaten-up looking bar in front of me, staring back. I straightened, about to offer some excuse as to why I was out so late when he cut me off.

"Another one, eh?" He sniffed and looked down his nose at me.

"What?"

"Are you one of that Neville boy's friends?" He motioned toward the gold coin clutched in my fist. I nodded vigorously, "Well, follow me, then."

The man led me into a room off the bar and over to the fireplace. I expected Floo Powder, but the portrait hanging above the mantle swung forward to reveal a long passage. I eyed it warily, unsure of whether or not to trust this old guy I happened to stumble in on.

"Well, are you going or aren't you?" He placed a chair in front of the fire for me to step up on and swept his arm in the direction of the tunnel. I shrugged one shoulder and climbed into the hole. The portrait closed behind me and I ignited my wand, treading carefully over the uneven ground.

It felt like I was walking for a long time, constantly uphill and in pitch blackness. My mind began to wander toward what would be waiting for me on the other side of this tunnel. Perhaps it was a trap, but I didn’t really care. I'd fight whoever I needed to and if I died… well, at least I would’ve died valiantly. I didn't particularly want to die, actually, so I tried not to think too hard about it.

Lost in my thoughts, I completely neglected to notice how flat the darkness had become and succeeded in walking – face first – into a rough, wooden door. I pulled myself away, held my wand at the ready, and took a deep breath. My palm was against the door, ready to apply pressure and push it open when it swung forward.

I was momentarily blinded, then there was a great roar and I was tangled in someone's rather long arms. They smelled musty, like the woods. I fought my way out of them and held my wand menacingly, blinking away the tears burning in my eyes. Bloody hell, it was bright.

"Lacey!"

It was Ron. I felt his hand (at least I think it was his hand) on mine, pushing my wand down until it wasn’t pointed at anything living. He beamed at me, looking filthy and taller and even skinnier than the last time I'd seen him, if that was possible. I stared for a moment, then threw myself at him.

"Ronald… Weasley… Don't… You… Ever…" I said between alternate beatings with my fists and kisses on his cheek (which I could barely reach on the tips of my toes, that’s how tall he was).

"Did you really miss me that much?" He asked, pushing me away and grinning.

I composed myself and replied, "Ronald, I practically raised you out of diapers – "

"And have spent immeasurable amounts of time with my brothers, I know, I know. " He interrupted, "Where are they, anyway?" He searched the space behind me as if he had missed them.

"Not here." I said shortly, gazing around.

Harry was there, beaming but looking troubled at the same time, if that's possible. Hermione was beside him, flanked by two Ravenclaw boys and Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom was standing beneath a large Gryffindor banner beside Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. They all wore expressions similar to Harry's; smiling, but looking like they'd all been frightened half to death.

I strolled over to Harry who smiled weakly and adjusted his glasses. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"We've been behind you, boy. I doubted you a lot, I'll admit, but you have a knack for saving the day." I smiled just as shakily and pulled him in to a hug. I'd never hugged Harry Potter before. It was a novel situation.

He hugged me back and muttered his thanks, then returned his attention to everyone else in the room. They were arguing about wanting to help Harry with something, though Harry refused to tell them what it was which I thought was odd. I kept out of it, twisting my wand around in my fingers. I'd fight when I was needed. Physically, against Death Eaters, mind you, not verbally against school boys who want to help Harry Potter save the world. I had no time for their arguments.

In the midst of the word-brawl, the door I had come through swung open again. I caught a glimpse of fiery hair and was off, through another door even though I had no idea where it led to. A bathroom, I soon discovered. I lifted myself onto a sink and sat there, twirling my wand and listening to the argument outside the door and waiting to see if there was going to be a real battle.

The bathroom door was pushed open and one of the twins strode in. My anger flared up until I saw that it was Fred (two ears, you know). I relaxed a bit but didn’t lower my guard. He came over and leaned against the sink beside mine.

"You look horrible." He said cheerfully.

"Thank you."

"Lace," He said, nudging me with his elbow, "George didn't mean what he said."

"Bollocks for me, then, right?" I glared at the floor.

"For him, too. He's bent up."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Fred. Whether he meant it or not, he still said it. Some part of him must feel that way. I... I don't know. All this time, I - "

"Lacey, stop it." Fred said in a rare moment of seriousness. "Look, I can't do his explaining for him. But I know he didn't mean it. Talk to him yourself, I dunno. He'll come 'round."

"Oh, no." I said, my anger flaring up again. "I'm not making the first move. If he would like to speak to me, he can come find me. If he would like to admit to being an ass, I will be sitting right here on this sink until I'm needed elsewhere."

Fred chuckled. "I told him you'd say that." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "What was it you called him earlier?"

"Fucker." I said.

"Brilliant." He said, ruffling my hair. "I'm going to have to use that one." He turned to leave, chuckling and shaking his head as he went.

"Hey." I called after him. He turned. I found myself at a loss for words and he stood there staring.

"What?" He said, raising his eyebrows impatiently.

"I don't know." I said honestly, still searching."I guess you're just a good friend, Freddie."

"Oh, shut it." He grinned, and strode out the door, leaving me alone but not too sad.



By the time I had left my perch on the sink, the adjacent room was nearly packed to bursting. There were familiar faces everywhere from every House except Slytherin. Oliver Wood was standing near Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. Cho Chang was there, and so was Ron's old girlfriend Lavender. Hermione smiled at me and waved. I waved back.

The entire Weasley family had arrived, including Ginny and Percy (which was quite the surprise), and Bill with Fleur. Lupin and Kingsley were in a corner. I waved to them before Mrs. Weasley caught sight of me and hurried over to fuss over me.

"Lacey, dear, you're so thin!" She put her hands on either side of my face, "And you look like you could use a good night's sleep. But you're not hurt. That's what matters."

I barely smiled because my lips were shaking so badly. I stared at her for a moment and burst into tears for reasons that were completely beyond me. She tucked me into her shoulder and rocked me back and forth like my mother hadn’t done since I’d been able to walk. I was glad for all the noise and voices in the room because it meant that my raspy sobs were lost. I could barely hear them myself.

I was able to collect myself enough to stand up straight. I wiped my nose and eyes on my sleeve, then listened intently because things had gotten quieter. Standing in yet another doorway was Harry. He looked around wildly, as if amazed at how many people were crammed into the room. (Not that I really blamed him. I was, too).

He finally found his voice and said, "They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized. We're fighting."

That was all I needed. I broke away from Mrs. Weasley and followed the surge of people toward the door and up the stairs, my wand held at the ready. I heard someone calling my name but didn’t stop. I pushed my way up, spilling out into the corridor with everyone else. There was a hand on my arm but I shook it off. It turned into a fist gripping my sleeve. The person attached to it wrenched me backward. It was George, like I had expected it to be. I stared up at him blankly.

"Don't, please." He said, his hand still tight on my sleeve.

"I'm not a child." I replied evenly.

"You're not. I know that, I know, I know." He frowned heavily and looked at the floor. "Just don't do this. You don't have to."

"What can I do, George?" I shook his hand off. "Go and stay in that little room? The little Mud-Blood - "

"Don't call yourself that," He grimaced.

"I'll do what I bloody well like! The little Mud-Blood hiding while everyone else fights for her? I don't think so." I took a few steps away but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back again. I put my hands on his chest and shoved, but he held fast.

"Lacey, don't."

"Let go of me, George."

"Lacey, if you got hurt, I'd…"

"You'd what, George?" I asked, gazing up at him seriously. He didn’t answer, just dropped his hand and scratched the back of his neck. "What would you do, George? I want you to tell me." I wasn’t sure why I wanted to hear it so bad. Maybe I wanted to know if, deep down, if I meant as much to him as he did to me.

"Make me stay." I said slowly, cruelly. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop. A dull, throbbing mixture rage and sadness was burning itself through my veins, and I wanted to make him feel it, to make him know.

"I can't." He said, taking a step away.

I turned on my heel, then, not sparing him another glance. I sprinted off down the hallway, turning first this way then that, winding my way downward through the stone carnage that already littered the floor.

A sob tore itself from my chest, but I still didn’t stop. It only made me run faster.