The Last Lieutenant

The Burrow

She almost doesn't go.

It's not that Audra doesn't want to be there, or that she doesn't want to see everyone.  She wants to be there so much that it actually aches, a pang in the chest, a yearning to see their faces and be held in their arms and have proof, once and for all, that even though things have changed, their feelings for her have stayed the same.

But things have changed, and so have what we felt for each other, Audra thinks, her palm splayed flat over the splintered wood of the Burrow's front door.  She can hear the babble of conversation coming from the inside, all the light and the warmth seeping out from under the door and shining through the windows.  The evening light is fading, but even so, she can still make out all the familiar things about this house she had loved so much.  You've changed, something inside you gone all warped and twisted and wrong, and they'll take one look at you, and they'll know.

They'll know about everything.  About how she would sit in her big, cold, stone house and cry, huddle on the floor and sit by the fire place and try to get warm, but her hands would never stop shaking.  How she had to leave, how she would wake in the night shaking from the nightmares and would flee to Snape's house and then she just ended up staying there.  How she's learned to lurk in the corners, how her smile isn't really a smile anymore, how something inside her has knocked loose and gotten put back together in a way that's slightly painful.  How's she done so many bad things that weren't part of Dumbledore's Orders, the lives she ruined and the people she hurt and the families she destroyed just because hurting them felt better than dealing with her own pain.

Audra takes in another shaky breath and then pushes in on the door, wincing at the creak.  She flinches back against the sudden burst of noise, a round of raucous laughter coming from the kitchen, every sound magnified because its happening in such a small space.  Truthfully, the Burrow isn't big enough to hold an Order meeting because of how small it is, but somehow they made it work.  

There are people everywhere, crammed onto couches and propped up on tables, crammed into the kitchen and leaning back against counters.  There's a loud clamor of dishes coming from inside the kitchen, suggesting the Molly is just cleaning up from dinner.  Audra stays in the doorway, suddenly unsure of where to go or what to say, when she finally catches sight of Fred and George.

She hadn't see them since that day after the ministry break in, when she showed up at their flat covered in blood and dust and smelling of smoke.  And she hadn't spoken to Fred since that day on the beach, when she dropped that necklace into his waiting hand and they kinda/sorta broke up without really breaking up.  And yet here they were, taller than ever, slouched back against the counter with laughter in their eyes and glasses of pumpkin juice in their hands, halfway through a punch line.

Audra lets the cloak fall back, and can pinpoint the exact moment that Fred realizes she's there, every inch of his body pulling into a tense line as he straightens up.  "Audra."  The room falls silent, everyone turning to see where she had walked in, and it felt like the room was too bright, too hot.  "What are you doing here?"

"I'm still part of the Order, aren't I?"  Her voice is thin, but she offers up a cross between a smile and a glare.  She unfastens her cloak, lets it fall off her and hands it to Charlie, who looks so confused by the sudden tension in the room that it's almost funny.  "Thought I better come say hi to everyone."

There's silence, heavy and oppressive, and then Fred is slamming his glass on the counter and crossing the room to get to her, wrapping her in a hug so tight that she's actually lifted off her feet.  "Thank Merlin."  He moves away, puts his hands on her face and then her shoulders, like he can't decide what he wants to be doing.  He's genuinely happy for her, but all Audra can think about is how he's changed- he's a few inches taller, his face thinner, and has gathered a few more freckles, but his hands are the same, with the same scars and same mole at the bottom of his palm and the same steady strength.  "I was so worried about you."