Safe and Sound

Sick. That is the only feeling that I can describe as I leave the fight. No one will notice my absence. They are too concerned with trying to discern where the real Harry is. It is the perfect opportunity for me to get away from the crowd and go to the only place that I can think to go.

I land in a dark ally way, moving quickly the moment my feet are on the ground. The ally smells of decay and trash, but I blend into the shadows. There is not a soul in site except for a skinny cat digging in the trash. Normally I would stop to help the small feline, but I move past it without blinking.

I turn to face the brick wall, casting my eyes around quickly and straining my ears for noise. There is nothing around me so I pulled my wand out, tapping the wall in a triangle. The bricks shifted, grating against one another in a sound so loud that I look around nervously, hoping I had not disturbed anyone. No one hears, so I slip my broom into the hole in the wall that is about 6 feet tall and two feet wide. It was the place I always hide my broom when I was going to apparate around the world.

With a few more taps, the bricks moved back over my broom, hiding it from the world. Looking around again once more, I tuck my wand inside of my cloak and close my eyes. Instantly I am pulled into the warped world of apparation. I feel as if my stomach is being pulled a million different ways, but before I can vomit or get sick, I’m there.

The grass outside of the burrow sways softly around me, causing a distant, soft whisper. I stare at the home that had once been set to fire, the home that I had last scene in a time of great sadness and misunderstanding. I suddenly wonder if this is a bad idea. I know that Ginny Weasley will be inside of her home, and she has no love for me.

Ever since the night of our fight, I feel as if Harry isn’t sure whom he trusts more. I strongly believe that he should trust Ginny more than myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that. The sister in me wants Harry to trust me over a silly little girl, but I know that Ginny would protect him more than I ever could, more than I could ever dare. This is the reason I loathe Ginny Weasley, who is everything I am not.

I scoff at my own thoughts, remembering how arrogant I used to be. I make the decision that Ginny Weasley doesn’t matter, and I start walking through the water that surrounds the home of the Weasley’s. I am careful to be quiet, sure that guards will eventually appear outside of the boundaries of the home.

When I approach the boundary line to the home, I pause, wondering if I will be able to pass through. Only a select few can pass through the wards and the spells that both the order and the ministry both have placed over the burrow. I bit my lip, indecision plaguing me again. If I take a step forward, I could possibly be thrown back or even worse- I could be incinerated.

Deciding that either result doesn’t matter to me anymore, I surge forward. The feeling of passing through film strikes me as I walk through the protective enchantments. The feeling is not strong, rather it’s just a brush of feeling as I make my way to the house, both relieved and surprised that they have included me in the people allowed to pass.

Somehow I had one the trust of these people, or at least, enough trust to let me through. Many of them do not favor me, but they know enough about my love for Draco and my personality to know that I want revenge on Voldemort just as much as I want to protect Harry. Now whether I wanted to protect Harry simply because I wanted to kill Voldemort, or because he was my brother, they weren’t sure. But either way, it meant I was on their side, and that was good enough for them in these desperate times.

The sound of voices reaches me, somewhat tense and loud. I pause at the door, wondering if I should knock or simply enter. Deciding that knocking may raise suspicion and the urge to flee, I decide to waltz in the door, hoping the worst they do is stun me and then realize it’s me.

The voices stop and I find a dozen wands pointed at me, everyone rigid with surprise and suspicion. I glance around the group, who are beaten and battered from the fight. Several of the people are all dressed in the exact same clothes, ruling that they risked their lives as the Harry look alike.

“What are you doing here?” It’s Ginny who asks, her voice a growl, but not quite a threat. I glance over at her in part annoyance, par curiosity before I look at the rest of them. I’m not really sure why I came either.

“To see if he made it.” I look at Harry then, who is standing behind the couch, looking at me, expression perplexed. He hangs back for a moment more, indecision flickering across his face before walking towards me, embracing me roughly.

It’s the first time I’ve seen or touched my brother since the night of Dumbledore’s death, and the affection and love that comes with his touch is enough to make me close my eyes in attempt to not tear. It doesn’t matter what I do, or how I am made; Harry will love me no matter what.

“I saw what you did tonight,” he murmured, pulling away from me. He said it in a way that made me think he was telling the others more than me. “You saved my life by killing one of your own. You could have been seen.”

I shrugged, not knowing what else to do. “If I had been seen, I would have just… left. I can disappear pretty easily.”

“Either way,” Hermione supplied, coming to my defense, which was odd. “You’re actions were very brave.”

I thanked her with a smile, but my eyes drifted past her, where George Weasley lay on the couch, ear being bandage by his mother. I felt my heart drop and for a moment, I was sure I would vomit. His eyes were closed in rest, but they fluttered open, as if he felt my gaze. I felt the urge to sob, but he smiled fleetingly at me.

“George… I…” I trailed off, not knowing how I could apologize for blowing off his ear. I had been so sure he would deflect it, but the moment he saw my face, he froze. The grief and guilt welling in my stomach was enough to make anyone sick, but I had to be strong.

“It was my fault,” he supplied, trying to make me feel better. Everyone looked confused as I pushed past them, kneeling on the floor next to him and taking his hand. He did not look or sound mad, but I couldn’t get over this feeling.

Guilt was a new feeling to me. It was not something I had ever been accustomed with, but now that I had gained the ability to feel guilt, it was constantly threatening to overwhelm me. It was unlike any emotion I had ever experienced, and I was sure to go crazy with it. I had no idea how people could ever become accustomed to the feeling.

“I shouldn’t have froze like that,” George continued, patting my hand lightly. “You though I would deflect it. I know you did.”

“You blew off his ear?!” Ginny screeched then. Her father grabbed her arm as she charged forward, but I didn’t move from my position to defend myself. I deserved to be hexed or cursed for what I did, even if it had been an accident.

“Come off it, Ginny,” Fred snapped, stepping close behind me. “She didn’t mean to do it. And like Georgie said, he meant to stop it.”

A heavy silence enveloped the room, and I began to feel like I was being suffocated. I was standing in a home that I watched be destroyed. I had maimed a member of their family, and I had nearly killed another in a duel. And yet here I kneeled, the Weasleys' taking my defense. They were defending someone they had a right to loathe, and yet… they seemed to feel sorry for me.

I could only imagine what they must have seen in me, to feel the needed to protect me from the screams of a young girl. Here they stood, broken, poor and in the middle of a war, one of their sons narrowly escaping death, and yet the turned to look at me with pity and sympathy. The thought was absolutely overwhelming.

I shoved myself from the ground and shook my head, backing away from them all. “I shouldn’t have come here- I’m sorry.”

The voices called after me as I fled from their house, tears brimming over my eyes as I shoved the back of my hand in my mouth, trying to quiet the sob that was working it’s way up from my throat. I didn’t deserve their sympathy. I didn’t deserve their trust. I didn’t deserve their understanding.

I was undeserving of the world.