Look After You

November was dismal. The weather was almost always grey, and business was slow. I found myself doing almost nothing with my time. I was tempted to go elsewhere, to maybe find another job and a place other than the one I had at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but I never did. My arse stayed glued to the stool behind the till until Christmastime.

I was spending the holidays at the Burrow this year. My parents had shipped off to France for a few months, and I decided not to go with them. Our relationship was strained, and I figured three weeks of non-stop contact wasn't the correct way to remedy said situation. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t hear of me spending Christmas alone at the Shop – as I had originally planned on doing – and told the Twins to get me "home" by any means necessary. I didn't need much persuading, to be perfectly honest. Mrs. Weasley was an excellent cook. Fred, George, and I, on the other hand, were not.

We arrived the Sunday before Christmas, deciding to apparate instead of using the Floo Network. (Mrs. Weasley was easily startled and, since the fireplace connecting the Burrow to the Network was the one in the kitchen, we decided it would be prudent to avoid any number of possible cutlery related disasters). I'd expected us to arrive directly on the Burrow's front lawn, but instead, we were standing in the middle of a rather large, empty field. I glanced around, thoroughly confused.

"Where are – ?" I began, but George cut me off.

"Loads of protective charms on the house just now. Harry's there, too." He held his arm out, and I linked my own through it.

"You can’t apparate any closer than we did. There would be jinxes going off all over the place." Fred said, taking hold of my other arm. I heaved my travel bag further onto my shoulder, nodded, and we trooped off through the field, guided by the light from our wands.

A few moments later, we were standing just outside the half-open kitchen door and Mrs. Weasley was telling us to take off our shoes before we took even one single step across her nice, clean floors. We did, and George laughed at my red and gold striped socks. Mrs. Weasley told me they were lovely and pulled me into a motherly hug. She smelled like cinnamon and home. I melted.

She hugged the Twins and spouted off a complicated list of sleeping arrangements. They involved Lupin and Bill, and I gazed around curiously for signs of them. Lupin had been my favorite Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, and Bill had always been nice to me. I didn’t see them, and tuned back into the conversation in time to find out that I would be shacking up with Fred and George, as long as there would be no "funny business", Mrs. Weasley was quick to add. I sort of wondered what type of shenanigans she was implying, but let it slide when she scurried off into the living room.

Ron and Harry were standing together near the sink, peeling an enormous mound of potatoes and speaking in hushed voices. Fred threw me a wink and strolled over, his chest puffed out a bit. George and I followed, close enough, now, to catch a bit of Harry and Ron's conversation.

"Yeah, well, passing over Fred's left buttock –" Harry said. I cast a bemused look at George, who grinned.

"I beg your pardon?" Fred said, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. "Ah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them." He motioned toward the potatoes with a great, sweeping motion of his arm.

"I'll be seventeen in two and a bit months' time and then I'll be able to do it by magic." Ron retorted, glaring. His eyes swept over me briefly and he added, "Hey, Lacey."

"Hi, Ron. Harry." I replied. Harry grinned, but Ron was off glaring again.

"But meanwhile," George said, pulling up a chair and resting his feet on the kitchen table, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a – " I saw him flick his wand under the table, "Whoops-a-daisy."

Ron sputtered indignantly when his knife slipped, then stuck his freshly bleeding thumb into his mouth. "You made me do that!" He said.

"Oh, honestly," I said, shooting my own glare at each of the Twins, "That was uncalled for. Let me see that, Ron." I grabbed his wrist and studied his hand for a moment, "Your mother taught me how to do this." I pressed the tip of my wand into his cut, mentally visualized a healed, puckered little scar, and whispered, "Vigoratus."

The cut stopped bleeding instantly and knitted itself closed. Ron gazed at me.

"How'd you do that? I've tried it myself, and it never worked!" He said, inspecting my handiwork.

"Magic." I winked.

Fred, George, and I left the kitchen, then, and headed over to the living room. The Christmas tree was up and decorated, and a fire was roaring in the hearth. Professor Lupin was seated on the couch, talking animatedly with Bill Weasley, who was still as cool as I remembered. Fleur Delacour – who I'd just found out was engaged to Bill and who looked only slightly more mature that she had when I'd seen her at the Triwizard Tournament – was listening in on their conversation, a bored look on her face. Mrs. Weasley was knitting, and Ginny was sitting on the floor, playing with the Pygmy Puff she'd named Arnold.

Bill stood and shook his brothers' hands, grinning broadly. He stepped over to me and grasped my hand as well.

"Well, well, Miss Lacey. Good to see you." He said. I wasn't entirely sure why he called me "miss", but it didn’t really matter so I didn’t say anything.

"You too, Bill."

He sat down and Lupin took his place among us. He clapped Fred and George on their shoulders, then shook my hand politely like Bill had.

"Hello, Lacey." He smiled kindly.

"Hello, Professor." I said, mostly out of habit.

"Oh, I'm not your professor anymore. Feel free to call me Remus."

I nodded and sat down on the floor near Ginny, who smiled at me but, other than that, didn’t offer any form of greeting. That was alright with me. The only Weasley I knew less than her was Percy, so I didn’t expect her to fawn over me, or anything.

Fleur didn’t greet us. She sat next to Bill, looking a bit sullen.

"So, Lacey." Lupin said from his old spot on the couch, "I hear you're the newest member of the Order. Have I heard correctly?" I couldn’t read his expression, but I guessed it was somewhere between grave seriousness and doubt.

"Yes, actually. You have." I lifted my chin a bit. Mrs. Weasley made a small noise of disgust from behind her knitting.

"You do understand what this sort of commitment entails?" Lupin said ominously, "The Order of the Phoenix is a resistance against the Dark Lord. If we are discovered, we will all be in immense danger. Not to mention, if things escalate to actual combat, it will require a great deal of magical skill from those involved. I don't doubt you, but –"

I interrupted, "Cedric Diggory was my friend. I'm a muggle-born. And nearly all of my friends are involved in the resistance somehow. There is no reason for me not to fight back, too."

"Remus," George began in my defense, "Lacey is really talented, too. I've seen her stun Fred into a wall. In D.A. last year! And she says she's gotten her Patronus right, too. I don't think we have to worry about her not holding her own when the time comes." He shot me a grin.

"You've achieved a fully formed Patronus?" Lupin seemed impressed, "What does it take the shape of?"

"Sure. It's some sort of Egret." I said uncomfortably. Everyone in the room was looking at me, now. Only Fred and George were smiling. "But everyone else has one, too. It's not that big a deal."

"No," Ginny chimed in, "We just know that you had trouble with it. It's good that you've finally gotten it."

"It means you could do a lot of other advanced spells if you wanted to." Bill agreed.

I nodded slowly and settled back against the wall. Everyone else dropped the subject, and things got quiet. Ron and Harry entered the room and we all sat together, talking about nothing of importance until it was time for everyone to go to bed. We all trooped off to our respective rooms, and I was glad to see a bedroll already assembled in the middle of the floor in Fred and George's bedroom. I fell asleep shortly after my head hit the pillow.

The next day was Christmas Eve, which was spent doing almost nothing. I helped Fred pull carrots out in the garden for Christmas dinner. A gnome bit him and, after a glorious string of curses and threats, he whipped his wand out to stun it. I then proceeded to help him dress it up as a Christmas angel for the top of the tree. It was ugly, and I was very satisfied to see it on the utmost branch the next day.

Presents were exchanged first thing Christmas morning with much pomp and to-do. Fred and George gave their mother a glittering, diamond-studded hat and a gold necklace. She blushed and stammered and finally settled for kissing them each on their cheeks by way of thanks.

I'd managed to procure a few things for the Weasley family, myself. For Mrs. Weasley, I had gotten several bundles of yarn – brightly colored and shot through with silver threads. She seemed delighted and told me she was going to knit me another sweater as soon as she got the chance. I grinned.

I gave Harry a bottle of wood polish for his broomstick. I'd gotten Ron a box of his favorite sweets. For Ginny, I had a new pair of Quidditch gloves (red and gold, of course, because she played for Gryffindor). Fred and George were more difficult – my old practice of buying them joke products for Christmas and their birthday was clearly not practical anymore. I settled on getting them both Sneakoscopes of decent quality because they'd always said they wanted some.

In return, I received a traditional Weasley Sweater from Mrs. Weasley (which I donned immediately), an enormous box of sweets from Ginny, Ron, and Harry (which was a nice thought, though I'd eaten so much since I'd arrived at the Burrow, I was sure a box of candy was absolutely the last thing I needed), a shockingly-pink Pygmy Puff from George (which I named Alphonse), and about twelve pairs of oddly-colored striped socks from Fred (which I enjoyed greatly).

The entire day was quite nice until lunchtime. I was squashed between Fred and George, gorging myself on turkey and mashed potatoes when Percy arrived at the door with the new Minister of Magic. (I thought he looked very much like a lion. Rufus Scrimgeour, that is. Not Percy). Emotional tumult ensued, which somehow resulted in Harry leaving with Scrimgeour for a while, and all the Weasley children staring daggers at Percy. I stopped eating and kept my mouth shut throughout the whole ordeal.

By the time Harry returned with the Minister, I was expecting Fred and George to stand and beat Percy to a pulp. They were, after all, fiercely loyal to their family. When Percy had chosen his job over the rest of them, the Twins had considered it the ultimate disgrace. I was sort of glad when, instead of resorting to physical violence, the Twins and Ginny decided to fling spoonfuls of mashed parsnip into Percy's face. He'd stormed out with Scrimgeour, leaving Mrs. Weasley a sobbing mess.

The rest of the day was quite dour, and I was quite nearly glad that we were heading back to Diagon Alley the next day. I felt like I was intruding on something very private whenever Mrs. Weasley spontaneously burst into tears. No matter how much I wished it, I wasn’t a Weasley and, therefore, had no right to witness their pain. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in pain. Their other children couldn’t really stand Percy anymore, Fred and George especially.

We left around nine o'clock in the morning, each of us clutching the handle of a basket containing leftovers from Christmas dinner, as well as our travel bags or suitcases. The entire family – including Remus and Fleur, as well – gathered out in the field to see us off. Mrs. Weasley was crying, and the air around us sparkled with tension. Spirits had been fragile since Percy's visit.

"You'll all take care, then?" Molly said, fixing the front of Fred's coat and adjusting George's scarf around his neck, "You'll all look after each other?"

"Of course, Mum," George said softly, dropping his basket and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "We'll be fine. We'll come and visit soon, if you like." Fred nodded his agreement.

Mrs. Weasley hugged and kissed them so many times, it was hard to tell each instance apart. They seemed to run together into one, long embrace. They took it valiantly, careful not to wipe the backs of their hands across their cheeks after she kissed them.

She stood in front of me, next, adjusting my woolen hat and arranging my hair about my shoulders. It was a motherly act, and my heart swelled happily.

"Lacey," She began in a whisper, "You know you don't have to be in the Order. You're still so young, and so much is at stake if you openly pledge your allegiance…" Her voice trailed off, and she grasped my upper arms tightly.

"Mrs. Weasley, I know," I said, lifting my forearm to pat one of her hands, "It's dangerous, but I'm not that young. Everything's dangerous right now, and not pledging your allegiance is as bad as pledging it. Things will be fine."

She didn't respond at first, just stood still and stared into my face with red-rimmed eyes.

"You're right," she said, releasing one of my arms, but still keeping her hand on the other, "I know you three will be okay. You'll watch out for each other. You make them so happy, you know. They love you dearly," her voice dropped even lower, "George especially, but don't tell him I told you."

The words didn’t register at first, but when they did, I felt the blush whooshing up from the soles of my feet. "I won't tell," I assured her. Because if I did, it would be the end of me, for sure. I'd dissolve into one great, heaping pile of blushes and giggles and I wouldn’t be able to stand myself after an incident like that.

She stepped away and I said the rest of my goodbyes, nodding and grinning at everyone in turn. The Twins and I took a few steps away and linked arms. Collectively, we said "See you!", and Fred turned on the spot, dragging us through the darkness back to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley.