AMOR FATI . . . fred weasley

I...DIE FROM A FART

They stand in the cavernous hall of a London townhouse, a townhouse that has seen better days and then some, and all she can think is, Is this year a fever dream or what?

'Blimey, it lives up to its name, doesn't it?' Fred says, eyeing a magnificent spider web hanging like a canopy from the ceiling.

George nods. 'It really is a grim old place.'

Joey's frowning as she surveys the dingy hallway, an endless dark cavern which screams with death and teems with anger. On either side of her, snarling portraits hang in decrepit frames of tacky gold. Lavish wallpapers, hideous black furnishings, feel like they're closing in.

Fred and George, in their matching stripey shirts, have never looked so out of place, and Joey even more so; she squints at her reflection in a grime-coated mirror, stunned at vacant eyes that are apparently hers, a mop of tangled hair (because Cedric brushes it) that is apparently hers, and the two boys flanking her that are definitely hers.

Thank Merlin.

'It's not that bad,' Joey says uncertainly. The lie tastes horrid against her teeth. 'It just needs some... love and affection.'

Fred scoffs. 'Joe, you can't give a house love and affection.'

'Well, you probably can if you're brave enough,' George says with a wink.

'It looks like the inside of, I dunno, a bloody coffin.'

Joey clucks her tongue between her teeth. George winces, kicking his twin in the shin.

'Shit, Joeypoos, I'm sorry,' Fred says, and he means it.

'It's fine!' Joey insists, her lips feel like they're smiling but she's not too sure. She's forgotten how to do it if she's being honest.

It once came second nature to her, now it comes out hollow and forced - that is, if it comes out at all.

Just as her brain's frantically whirring to change the subject, Fred's eyes, staring past her, widen with pure unadulterated terror.

'Holy fucking Merlin!' he gasps. 'You're - you're Sirius Black!'

Her head whips around to see the figure emerging from the shadow.

His hair (pretty excellent hair, Joey might add) hangs a little matted, a little lifeless around ringed eyes and sunken cheeks, but she's never seen eyes that twinkle so much. Sirius Black swings back and forth on his toes, arms crossed with amusement, a devilish smile that she's sure could've done something to even the guards at Azkaban.

'Fred,' Molly warns from behind them.

'The very same.' Sirius is smirking. 'It's not the first time I've heard that, and I do hope it isn't the last.'

'But you're... but you're mental!' George bursts.

'George.'

'It's alright,' Sirius says, shifting back into the shadow, but not before Joey notices the spark vanish from his eyes. 'It's not the first time I've had that one, either.'

Here's the deal: Joey knows Molly Weasley wouldn't just lair all her children into the trap of a madman, she's not a sadist! (And despite all their whines she knows that Molly adores the twins, it's obvious.) She also feels the pang of guilt at the look in Sirius' eye, and the way he tries to hide it: the disheartened, vacant spear of loss.

And Joey doesn't know much, but she knows that feeling all too well. Especially recently.

So she mutters, 'Oh, for goodness' sake!' and runs down the corridor, attacking a stunned Black in a big hug.