Anchor

Steam dressed the four walls that surrounded Adara as she stood beneath a warm rain. She pushed back the wet locks that fell across her face and licked her lips, tasting the water that drenched them. Adara hadn't moved from the cell that she was in for more than an hour, hoping to rid her body of it's aches and pains. With a slow hand, she trailed her fingers along the healing skin across her stomach. The scars were slowly fading away. The recollection made her weak and she rested a hand against the fogged glass for support.

Thoughts of ”What if's” saturated her mind as Adara replayed the memory of her mistake. She had known she was taking a risk. Her own rebellious nature had consumed the best of her a moment before the experiment erupted.

She shook away the vivid flashback and reached behind her, shutting the water off.

Eight days had past since Adara and George returned from St. Mungo's. Silence had encompassed the Weasley home, mainly a result of Adara's distance. Her heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces. George had tried on numerous occasions to coax her back into her usual daily routine which Adara quietly declined, only to shut out the world once more.

Wrapping a sunshine yellow towel around her freshly silken skin, Adara walked into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe drawer. She grabbed a fresh change of clothes and strolled back into the bathroom.

She despised the woman in the mirror and gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. Bitter tears slipped down her cheeks, stinging her eyes. Waking up each day was agony knowing she could never forgive herself.



George stood alone in the stock room of his joke shop, attempting to count inventory. He grew frustrated with his inability to focus and knocked one of the boxes he'd been sorting to the ground. George began to pace the wooden floor beneath him, his arms were folded and his mind was plagued with worry. He didn't have a clue as to how he was going to handle the darkness that had swarmed its way into his home. He'd watched what had been mourning in his wife's weeping turn to tears of hate toward herself. It was tearing him to pieces.

He inhaled deeply and grabbed the keys to his shop before exiting the backroom. George walked over to the front window and flipped the open sign to closed. Deciding the close early today, George locked the door behind him and turned to face the outside world. Diagon Alley was in its usual hustle and bustle, he knew he was going to lose a significant amount of business today. He shrugged off the selfish desire to stay and walked into the street, heading toward the Three Broomsticks.

“Over here, George,” Arthur Weasley rose from his seat and waved a hand in the air, signally his son that just walked in the front door.

With a nod of his head, George approached the table where his father greeted him with open arms and a mug of Butterbeer.

“So, how are you, son?” Arthur asked as he scooted his chair closer to the table.

George scratched the back of his neck and pondered for a moment. “I need some advice, dad.”

Arthur nodded his head in response, seeing the heavy burden that rested itself on George's shoulders.

“Adara and I haven't sat down and truly talked about what happened,” George confided, crossing his arms across his chest. “She's been blaming herself for losing the baby and pushes me away any time I tell her otherwise.”

Arthur frowned as he listened to George speak. It had been a hard time for the entire family, but he hadn't known Adara was taking it this badly.

“George, keep reminding her of that,” Arthur expressed after a few seconds of processing his son's words. He took a slow sip of his Butterbeer and continued, “Even if she is unresponsive.”

“Dad, I can't take not talking with her,” George added in, “Especially because of what happened. I need her.”

“I know you do, son,” Arthur offered a half smile, “And she needs you. Even if she pushes away; it may take time for her open back up.”

George leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “You're right.”

“Always am,” Arthur perked up, “Now go home, George. Be with her.”



The hot summer sun beat against the back of Adara's neck that was exposed underneath her high pony tail. She sat alone on her wooden porch swing. The only sound to be heard was the squeak of the hinges as she rocked her legs back and fourth, keeping the swing in motion. A glass of tea sat to her right, beads of sweat dripped down the untouched glass.

Adara moved a pebble that laid beneath her feet back and fourth with her bare toes. She drew in a deep breath and rested her arms at her sides, looking up at the brightly lit clouds up above. She knew she'd sunken in a depression and she could see how negativity it was affecting George, but she could do nothing to help it. He had every right to be angry with her, even if he denied that he wasn't. She couldn't even look him in the eyes. The memory of her mistake that cost the life of her child pummeled against her endlessly and Adara told herself she deserved the horror.

Her blue eyes shifted to the right when out of her peripherals she saw the screen door open. Adara looked away when she noticed George approaching her and she continued staring into the distance.

“Hello,” George greeted warmly as he filled the empty seat beside his wife. “Beautiful day.”

“Yeah,” Adara replied as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap and bit her lower lip anxiously.

“Hey,” George spoke softly and touched the side of her face. She slowly turned to face him. Her eyes were slightly puffy from crying and her hair was falling out of its braid.

“I love you, Adara,” George spoke firmly, his eyes didn't move from hers as he stroked the side of her face with his thumb; her eyes closed. “Never forget that,” he leaned forward and braced his hands on her knees, then pressed his forehead against hers. George felt her shutter as his words and tears welled up in her eyes.

“It wasn't your fault,” George whispered tenderly, her held her gaze only for a moment and then, looking away, she began to weep.

In one swift movement, George left his seat beside Adara and sank to his knees in front of her. He grasped her small hands in his and looked up at her lovingly.

“It wasn't your fault,” he repeated and brought her hands up to his lips.