19th december
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
LOLA LEMONT IS FUCKING FED UP.
Normally she does not swear in English, preferring to maintain the illusion that she is dignified and classy (obviously, only her friends know otherwise), but these are desperate times. It is the best of times, it is the worst of times... Yeah, blah blah blah.
Christmas gives Lola a headache - or rather, it used to. Christmas at the Lemont mansion in crappy Caernarfon, with the dead linden groves encircling the house, trapping it like prey in a spiderweb, was closer to death than life. Christmas at the Lemont mansion was all, Yes ma'am, no ma'am, three bags full ma'am, to Aunt Bellatrix. Christmas at the Lemont mansion was, in short, a rather sorry affair.
Christmas at Hogwarts is anything but. And it is all because of the friends that she never expected to make; friends who Lola expected to be terrified away by her lack of a Boggart, or her fighting fists and her terror tongue. Friends who, against all the odds, stayed.
Friends who are all the Christmas presents Lola Linden Lemont could ever ask for, forever and infinity.
One of these friends is currently lounging amongst the patchwork quilts and cuddly toys of her bed, auburn hair fanned ornamentally across the pillows, as Lola raids her wardrobe and critiques every item of clothing.
'These dungarees need sewing, Attlee, they have far too many holes.' Lola takes Johannah's trademark pair of corduroy dungarees and surveys them, frowning.
'OK!' Johannah says cheerily, barely glancing upwards from her copy of her festive potions recipebook, Have yourself a fiesta in a bottle! Of course she would be a festive fiend. Lola highly doubts that is a surprise to anybody in the universe.
'Actually, holes in clothing are fucking trendy now,' Zalewski pipes up from Thomas' bed. They are both sprawled out underneath her sheets, him reading the Daily Prophet but casting envious glances at her copy of Witch Weekly.
'Ach-y-fi, Zalewski, holes in clothes being trendy? That will never catch on!'
(Ach-y-fi meaning, in Lolaland, That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen/heard/smelt! It is usually directed at Fred Weasley, surprise surprise.)
Johannah smiles reassuringly over at Zalewski, and it is like the stars coming out after a long day away. 'Pyotr, my love, you would look lovely in anything, even a... um, a binbag! Don't listen to her.'
Lola scoffs contempt and returns to the wardrobe to hide the smile fighting her face.
She carries on amending Johannah's clothes, fixing holes and adding embellishments and changing their colours with swift swishes of her wand. Quite honestly, Lola is in her element with this - who would not want their clothes redesigned by her, the girl who has only worn black practically since she came from the womb, kicking and screaming with her hair mutating?
There is only one item of clothing that she does not dare touch, and that is Johannah's dress from the Yule Ball.
Lola remembers that night all too well. She had danced with Lee all night, in paradise, in every heaven, ignoring the daybreak that would eventually come and tear her from him, her eternal carousel of forevers and promises and hopes and dreams.
But she had not been able to ignore Linden, her baby sister, nagging Igor Karkaroff in the shadows of the Hall - to show her something engraved on his left forearm. As soon as Lola watched that happen, she knew she had well and truly lost her, forever, to the wolves that raised them.
Struggling to contain her sobs, she had come back to the common room in the early hours, drunk on adrenaline and smuggled-in Firewhisky. And what did she find, pray tell? Johannah tracing the constellations in the windowpane, tears dazzling on her cheeks, illuminating her acne and making her look, frankly, like an emotional mess.
And when Lola had coaxed the events of the night from her, she was not sure she would ever be able to look at Fred Weasley in the same way again. Hence his new nickname: Weasel, which, under the circumstances, she thought was rather appropriate.
But Johannah and Fred are not like that any more. There is no pain, only pleasure in each other's company; Lola has seen it, seen the adoring gazes they shoot the other when they think nobody is watching. In fact, it has been absolutely dire ever since the Gryffindor/ Hufflepuff match, over a month ago now, and it makes Lola want to projectile vomit left, right and centre!
Absolutely mortifying, if you ask her.
So this, actually, is why she is fed up. Because she does not know about you, but Lola Lemont is sick beyond death of Fred Weasley and Johannah Attlee's cachu. (Kindly translated by Ms Lemont for the reader's pleasure: shit.)
In fact, as she turns around with the dress lovingly cradled in her hands, Lola realises she is a (wo)man with a plan. And it is a truly showstopping plan, if she does say so herself!
She ignores the fleeting pain that flashes momentarily across Johannah's face at the sight of it. She ignores the way Thomas and Zalewski exchange worried glances. She even ignores Cedric in the photo beside Johannah's bed, as his mouth widens comically in shock and he collapses, caramel curls askew.
Instead, Lola just says, 'Attlee, darling, what do you say to wearing this dress one more time?'
LEE IS CHEATING, AGAIN.
It's really starting to get on Fred's nerves. Actually, scratch that: he's fucking furious about it. It's so annoying, and it's relentless as well. Literally, Lee is cheating practically every second of every day. It does Fred's nut in. And he wouldn't mind as much, maybe, if it wasn't unfair on Lola. Because, contrary to popular belief, he does care about her a little. (Only a little, and don't you dare fucking tell her or he'll have you!)
'D'you reckon Lemont would approve of this behaviour, Jordan?' he demands, knowing full well that she would not. Ever.
Lee shrugs, twirling one of his dreads absent-mindedly. 'Lols'll just have to deal with it.'
Fred gapes at that. 'But she taught you how to play fairly, mate!'
'Yeah, well it's not my fault that George is just unnaturally good at Wizard's Chess, is it?' Lee exclaims with an exasperated sigh.
And if Lee was annoyed then, he honestly looks as though he's on the verge of screaming as George swipes away his pieces with a smug, 'Checkmate, mate. Actually, I think you'll find I'm naturally good.'
Fred cackles, reaching for the bottle of liquidised Fever Fudge that the unfortunate losers are taking shots from. 'Unlucky, my dearest friend. Drink up.'
Lee groans and begrudgingly takes the shot glass, looking slightly green. This is quite possibly gonna be the best thing Fred has ever seen, and he wriggles forward in gleeful anticipation - that is, until the portrait hole swings open to reveal McGonagall, and she immediately makes a beeline towards them.
'Shit, shit, shit!' Lee mutters, hastily shoving the bottle and shotglasses under the table (cheeky twat, he isn't getting away with not drinking the Fever Fudge that easily!).
'Come to join us for a bevvy, Minnie?' Fred taunts, fluttering his eyelashes.
'Yeah, why don't you come and pull up a chair, Professor?' George chimes in.
'As flattered as I am by the invitation, Mr and Mr Weasley, I'm not going to oblige.' She glares at Fred, making him squirm a little. 'I would like to talk to you, Mr Weasley. About Miss Attlee.'
'Why? She's not in trouble, is she?' Fred doesn't even realise he's stood up until he registers both Lee and George sniggering, and sits back down with a scowl and a blush. (Why is he bloody blushing? Fuck's sake, Fred Weasley, get it together!)
Even McGonagall, he shits you not, has the tiniest smirk. 'No, she is quite alright, Mr Weasley. I just wanted an explanation for why you broke her heart last year at the Yule Ball.'
The effect is instantaneous. Lee begins choking, literally just on air - he'll be choking on that Fever Fudge in a minute if he doesn't shut up, Fred reckons - and Fred splutters helplessly in protest, knowing she's right.
Because, let's face it, he knows what he did at the Yule Ball was completely fucked up - and then some. Trust him, he knows. Hell, he knew it was literal seconds after he'd done it. But, well, can you blame him? (OK, fine, yes you can. It was possibly the most horrible thing he has ever done, and let him tell you, Fred Weasley has done an impressive amount of horrible things!)
'C'mon, I didn't mean to...'
'I don't care if you meant to or not, Mr Weasley! If you don't find a way to rectify the situation, I shall send a Howler home to your parents.' Fred gulps. 'And I'll tell them that you test your Fainting Fancies on innocent first-years, which breaks at least forty school rules.'
'You wouldn't!' George gasps, his jaw practically scraping the floor.
'Of course I would, twmffats,' smirks Lola Lemont as the silver melts from her hair and she shrinks back to her normal height, all her piercings flowering back onto her face.
Fred is so gonna fucking get her for this.
He lunges but she's one step ahead, lazily casting a Protego charm that protects her from hexes and jinxes - which is a shame, because Fred swears...
He wouldn't have done anything to hurt her, obviously. But that's not the point, y'know?
Lee is screaming with laughter, clutching at his insides as if they're all gonna tumble out. George is practically gonna piss himself if he doesn't watch it. And yeah, Fred's annoyed, but mainly because that was a good fucking prank. Like, he can't even deny it: he's almost impressed. He did not expect Lola Lemont to have that in her!
'So, did McGonagall convince you?' George manages between his giggles. 'You're gonna do something about Joey?'
'Because you looooooooove her,' Lee helpfully provides.
Fred is annoyed. Again. Because he is not in love with Joey, he doesn't even like her like that, and the fact that everyone is being so relentless about this is sending him bonkers. She's his best friend, and he never thinks about her, y'know, like that...
Like that, with a capital T. Like the way her teeth are crooked and smothered in silver but when she grins - too much, too often - they crystallise into metallic fireworks in the light. Like the way she's just so warm and gentle and soft and her jokes are so bad, so bad they're good, and he just wants to listen to them all the fucking time, almost like he's...
Fuck. Fuck.
He's liked girls before, obviously. (He's seventeen, he's not a nun. Merlin.) There was this phase in fourth year, right, when he sorta had a thing for Angelina, emphasis on sorta, until she made it very plain to him that she had no interest in him - or any guy, for that matter. And Joey listened so intently it blew him away. He had no idea she could be serious like that, even when she was brandishing a spoon at him and claiming that ice-cream she'd bought especially from old Florean Fortescue would help. But he didn't need it. He only needed... her.
Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck.
'I don't like her,' he insists, knowing for the first time it's a lie.
Lola rolls her eyes so far back her pupils vanish. 'You do.'
'I don't!'
'You do!'
'I don't!'
'You don't!'
'I do!' he blurts out, on accident, throwing his hands up to his mouth.
But it's too late and the damage is already fucking done. Merlin's tits, his life is such a mess, it's untrue.
'Well, thank Owain Glyndwr for that,' Lola declares, reaching under the table for the bottle of Fever Fudge. Oh, it would be such a shame if Fred didn't warn her, wouldn't it? 'A drink to celebrate! Iechyd da!'
Moments later she spits it back out, spraying it deliberately all over him. 'Ach-y-fi! Weasel, are you attempting to poison me?'
'Yep,' Fred says simply. 'And I just want to clarify, that I don't like Joey, OK? I don't like her. I literally could never like her. I don't like her, alright?'
'Fred...' George says slowly, warningly, wide eyes on the portrait hole. And Fred knows, he just knows, who's there before he even turns.
Or who was there. Because the portrait is swinging shut, creaking like a fucker, just reminding him of how bad he's cocked it up. Like he ruins every single thing in his life. Like he just ruined all his chances with the only girl who he's ever wanted chances with.
So, without waiting for a lecture from Lola that will surely come, he follows.
He manages to catch up with her halfway to the astronomy tower. 'Joeypoos!' he yells, breathless, chasing her like an absolute weirdo.
'Oh hey, Freddie!' Her smile seems unnatural somehow. He hates this, right, he wishes she'd just reveal her feelings to him. About anything. It's just, around her, he always feels like he's in the dark. And she knows everything about him. It's weird.
'Listen, Joeypoos...' Fred rubs the back of his neck. What's he meant to even do, confess his undying love for her or something? Please. This is still fucking bizarre. Ten minutes ago, she was just Joey to him. And now?
Well she was never really just-Joey, he knows that now.
She's so close. He could bend down and kiss her if he wanted. Which he does want, actually. He wants that so much it drives him insane. Yeah, she's so small it would fucking kill his neck - but fuck, it would be worth it. Fuck...
'Crookshanks got your tongue?' she laughs, waggling her eyebrows at him, warm cocoa eyes glinting with mischief.
Remembering how those same eyes glistened with tears - because of him, Fred fucking Weasley - last Christmas, rouses something inside of him. He doesn't have a bloody clue what, but it's something. So he puts on his cockiest grin and leans casually against the stone wall. Arms crossed and everything. Too cool for school.
Knowing how Lola will probably murder him if he doesn't ask her this (and, honestly, he can't blame her. He is a bit of an arse. Alright, fine. A lot of an arse), he does. And yeah, he asked her this once before. But this time, he actually intends to go through with it. This time, he's gonna shag a Slytherin before he lets Johannah Attlee down.
'Joeypoos, d'you fancy going to the Yule Ball with me?'
JOEY IS FAR TOO EXCITED to ask them to stop screaming!
Only when Ivy and Pyotr have officially destroyed her eardrums, do they finally stop squealing like... like ecstatic dolphins. And even then, they just shower Joey in so many compliments that she blushes so hard she looks like a massive beetroot, demanding she twirl around again and again and again.
'You look so fucking brilliant, fucking hell,' Pyotr laughs, catching the edge of her skirt in awe. 'I'll never get fucking tired of seeing this dress.'
Joey giggles delightedly because neither will she! Her dress from the Yule Ball is velvet, midnight-blue and scattered with glittery stars, and literally, if she could marry this dress, she would. Normally she's quite self-conscious about wearing something like this, because she hates how knobbly her knees are and, also, it makes her feel exposed. Like there's nowhere to hide, which is terrifying. But right now, she could not give less of a hoot!
'I'm dangerously happy,' she murmurs, admiring the alterations Lola has done on the dress. It changes colour depending on the mood she's in, how flipping incredible is that? 'I'm just - so, so happy.'
'I think she's happy, don't you, P?' Ivy says sarcastically, pulling Joey towards her. 'Now, honey. We want you back home by midnight, okay?'
Pyotr snorts. 'Yeah, because Fred isn't exactly Prince fucking Charming, is he?'
'Hey,' Joey pouts, 'I think he's wonderful.'
'Whatever. If he fucking does what he did last year, again, I swear to fucking God...'
'He won't.' Won't he?
Pyotr just shrugs. 'If you say so. Now fuck off, princess, and go and enjoy the ball.'
Joey laughs and squeezes them both in one last squishy hug before practically skipping from the dormitory, just as she hears Ivy say, 'Ah, P, they grow up so fast...'
She doesn't even tickle the pear on the kitchen portrait for luck as she passes, just skips up to the Room of Requirement. She has no idea what he's doing up there, like, he just told her to meet him there - and wear her Yule Ball dress. If it's just a Dumbledore's Army meeting and she's wearing this? Well, she really might get quite annoyed at Fred Weasley! (Maybe.)
Joey can't stop thinking that this might actually just be some sort of horrible prank. What if Pyotr's right? He is an Aquarius, after all, he always claims to be the cleverest person ever. But she tries to shove away the thought - because she refuses to let it ruin her evening! - as she clucks her tongue between her teeth and pushes open the door to the Room.
Her first thought is: what in the name of Venus has happened to this room? Because last time she checked, there wasn't a candlelit dinner table or a Muggle radio softly playing, and she may or may not be internally freaking out!
Then, her second thought is: OK, where in the name of Venus is he? She can't see him anywhere, and it's probably making her panic more than she should. Maybe he isn't coming. Maybe this literally is, the Yule Ball, 2.0. She should've known. She shouldn't've trusted so easily, like she always blooming does...
'Guess who,' and hands snake around her eyes from behind. Hands twice the size of hers, with freckles and Quidditch callous.
'Hey, Freddie,' she says without turning round.
He comes to face her, pouting. In his dress robes. 'You didn't even guess!'
'I didn't need to. Who else has hands that stink like Puking Pastilles?'
She beams up at him and him down at her, and between them something passes, something electric. Then Joey laughs and tugs his hand towards the table, blush flooding her cheeks.
'Did you do all this?'
'No, Santa did it,' he replies sarcastically.
She grins. 'Well, it is nearly Christmas... Freddie, I can't believe you did this. Why would you?'
He shrugs. 'For you. And it's about time I make up for what happened at the Yule Ball, isn't it?'
'But... you didn't need to! I already forgave you. As soon as it happened.'
Fred groans frustratedly. 'You shouldn't've, though. You forgive too easily.'
Well, why wouldn't she have forgiven him? What he did wasn't even that bad. OK, fine, Joey will admit, it was. It really, really was, and she's tried to forget, but it isn't exactly easy...
She's standing in the Hufflepuff dormitories again, only it isn't her room this time, it's Cedric's. Ced's room is immaculately tidy - which scares Joey a little bit; it makes her feel like she's in a ward at St Mango's! But she doesn't mind that much, because decorations in here would detract from him and his beauty, her shining star.
'You look beautiful, Jojo,' he says, earnestly, whirling his wand to tame the wispy hairs that curl around her cheeks.
Joey grins and rises onto her tippiest-toes to straighten his tie. 'Really? You don't scrub up too bad yourself, mister.'
'Well, any Weasley would be lucky to have you.'
Joey flushes because A) it just isn't true, and B)... 'He only asked me because we're friends and he left it too late! It doesn't mean anything.'
'Riiiight, and I'm Albus Dumbledore,' Ced scoffs, rolling his eyes.
'Anyway, you're one to talk! Going with Roger blooming Davies!'
Now it's his turn to blush. 'We're just going as friends.'
'Riiiight, and I'm Severus Snape,' she laughs, pulling his arm out of the dormitory. 'Come on!'
Fred promised he'd meet her by the marble steps of the Entrance Hall. So this is where she skips to, Cedric in tow, trying not to lose her mind with excitement. Beneath her swishing skirts, her scruffy trainers stick out like sore thumbs. But she doesn't even care, if they're pranking Karkaroff afterwards she needs to wear something practical!
'Where is he?' she asks out loud, a little panicky but mainly just giddy. Fidgeting like a little kid.
'Jojo, the champions have to go in first. Are you sure you're going to be OK?' Cedric asks, his brow creasing with worry. Hovering behind him, Roger is blushing like a bride.
'Of course I'm gonna be fine, my love!'
He nods one last time so his caramel curls glimmer, and wanders awkwardly with Roger into the Hall. Bless them, they're adorable.
She sees Lee and Lola, both in head to toe black with Lee's tarantula dancing on his shoulder (side note, something happened to Lola this night too. Joey doesn't know what, but it scared her, because for days afterwards Lola's hair was just white). Then Ivy and Pyotr, Harry and Ron... and now, she admits, worry is starting to sink in!
But it's not like... it's not like he isn't going to show up. He wouldn't do that to her, right? Mind you, it is her...
No. He wouldn't.
Joey catches a glimpse of red hair through the doors to the Hall, and heads towards it without thinking. Yeah, she's a bit nervous about just bursting in on a crowd that size, but she's more nervous about whether or not Fred's okay, because why else wouldn't he have shown up? And if she can just ask George if he's seen his twin...
'Georgie,' she calls, clucking her tongue between her teeth as she does so. 'Have you seen Freddie? Because he didn't turn up and I'm - well, I know it's a bit silly but I guess, well, I'm just a bit worried...'
And George turns round and stares at her with horror - only, it isn't George at all...
'Let me make up for it,' present-day Fred is saying, rubbing the back of his neck.
'Freddie, you don't have-'
'But I want to, Johannah. Please, don't be a dickhead and let me make it up to you.'
Well, she doesn't really need much more persuading than that, does she? The last thing she wants is to be a dickhead! So she lets him lead her to the centre of the room, where the ceiling is radiant and glowing, fireflies floating idly above their heads.
She feels like she must be in a dream. She just can't get over how different the room looks - like, they hid in here once to escape from Filch, and it was a flipping broom cupboard! - but mostly, Joey can't fathom the fact that's done all this for... her? Her. She deserves absolutely none of this!
'I can't dance,' Joey whispers, as she realises what he's going to do, his hand gently resting atop her waist. It makes her heart cartwheel a little. And now she's thinking of cartwheeling, and it's taking all she has to resist the urge to do one!
'Lucky for you that I'm the best dancer ever then, isn't it?'
She doesn't push it, cocky Aries cocky Aries cocky Aries; instead, she just yanks off her trainers and puts her fluffy-socked feet on top of his. He grins like an idiot, and begins waltzing at an alarming rate. Joey nearly screams, her heart in her mouth, feebly protesting as she laughs. This is it, she's fairly sure. This is paradise, it must be.
(She's only ever felt this way once, like she could literally fly without wings, in the aisles of Honeydukes, so...)
Joey finds herself nuzzling her face against his chest, so she can hear his actual heartbeat, which is crazy. It sounds like it's quickening as well, but why on Venus would it be? She's probably just making that up. 'You know... I'm almost glad about what happened at the Yule Ball.'
His face clouds. 'Don't say that, Joeypoos. I fucking hated myself for that. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I bloody did.'
'Why did you do it?' she asks softly, and he just shakes his head but doesn't answer. (Who does he blooming think he is, being all secretive like this? He's not a water sign, is he? Um, no!)
'Hey, mistletoe!' Joey laughs, pointing upwards at the branches snaking down towards her. The ivory berries cling enticingly to her outstretched palm. 'Aww, look! They're so cute, aren't they?'
He rolls his eyes and then gets all scarily sincere. 'Only you would find berries cute, Joeypoos. D'you - you know what you're meant to do under mistletoe, right?'
'Um, no?'
'Well, I'll have to show you then,' and he bends his head down to hers, slowly, and she swears she stops breathing. What the blooming heck is going on? All she knows is she can feel his Firewhisky breath tickle her cheek, and there's flecks of gold in his eyes, which she never noticed before... because she was never this close to notice...
Then he springs away, golden eyes widening. 'Shit!'
Without even thinking, her pinky finds his. 'What is it, Freddie?'
The blood has drained from his face and he's nearly trembling as he tears his wand out of his pocket. Him and George have identical wands, plain wood with carved handles like the ends of broomsticks, and Joey's always found them dead adorable. But now the wand handle is glowing amber, and it's freaking her out because that doesn't look good to her at all!
'George and I have this thing, yeah, where if one of us needs the other, we can let them know by heating the wand handle. Obviously, y'know, we're not often apart, but... this isn't him being clingy or anything like that. Merlin's tits, this is an emergency.'
'Well what are we waiting for, then? Come on, we need to find Georgie!'
'I'm so sorry,' Fred mutters, gesturing at everything he's set up - that they're abandoning. 'But it's an emergency, we have to-'
'Don't apologise. George's emergency is much more important, you plum,' and so, still holding hands, they sprint through the corridors of the castle, not even caring if they bump into Umbrella. (Well, alright, they care a little, they're not complete anarchists!)
Wait, still holding hands! Holy Hippogriffs.
Fred throws out an arm to stop them as soon as they reach the Gryffindor portrait. 'Listen,' he says, hastily Transfiguring her dress into a pair of pyjamas, and doing the same with his robes, 'you looked bloody brilliant, but we don't want anybody asking why you look like the belle of the ball, do we?'
She forces a smile, shaking her head, and together they stumble into the common room. The Fat Lady doesn't even ask them for the password, and this is when Joey realises it's really, really serious.
She is scared, but determined to hold it together. For them.
They collide immediately into Professor McGonagall, looking no less formidable, although a teeny bit shabby, in a long tartan dressing gown. Her dark eyebrows rise in momentary relief at the sight of them. 'Mr Weasley, with me! And Miss Attlee too, I suppose.'
'Hang on,' Fred pants. 'It - it is you, Professor?'
'Yes, of course it is, Weasley. Why would you ask?'
'Oh, just checking.'
There's a familiar snort from behind her and both Joey and Fred collapse into George, who's attempting to smile, but there's no denying the fear etched all over his face. 'Sorry to interrupt your date, bro,' he mutters to Fred, who pretends to strangle him.
'Nice to see in an emergency you don't lose your sense of humour,' Joey says grimly, linking her arms with both of theirs. 'Georgie, what's going on?'
'It's Dad.'
'What d'you mean, Dad? George, what do you mean by Dad?'
George just shakes his head, like he's unable to answer, and they're drowning in this sickening silence all the way to Dumbledore's office.
Harry's standing there, looking like he's just been dragged through hell, and back. Joey, who's been in this office on more occasions than she'd like to admit (thanking you, Fred and George!), has never realised how ugly it is in here. And scary. Ew.
'Harry - what's going on?' asked Ginny, who looked frightened. 'Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt -'
'What?' Fred exclaims, losing his mind. Joey squeezes his pinky, realising that neither of them have dared let go since before leaving the Room of Requirement.
'Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' says Dumbledore. 'He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'
'How're we going?' Fred asks, looking shaken. 'Floo powder?'
'No. Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' Dumbledore indicates an old kettle just relaxing on his desk. Could make a good cuppa with that, Joey finds herself thinking. 'We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back...'
Finny who? Honestly, Joey rarely understands half of what Dumbledore says!
'He says he'll be delighted,' comes a bored voice behind Dumbledore. Oh, Finny must be a portrait! 'My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests...'
'Come here, then,' Dumbledore says, and they move as if in a dream to the blackened kettle. 'On the count of three, then. One...'
George, sarcastically. 'Some end to your date, huh?'
'Two...'
Joey. 'Don't be silly, Georgie. It wasn't a date, why on Venus would it be a date? Right, Freddie?'
'Three.'
Fred. 'Well, Joeypoos, actually...' but the rest of his sentence is lost as they're flung through the air, immersed in blinding white light, hurtling towards Grimmauld Place and whatever fresh hell awaits them there.
'BACK AGAIN, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying...?'
Kreacher. Kreacher's voice! Joey hopes he's well as she feels hands pulling her from the floor of Grimmauld Place's basement kitchen, and finds herself facing the unnervingly emerald eyes of Frances Alexandre.
'OUT!' roars Sirius. He's smelling a little bit Firewhisky-y, but Joey's so grateful to see him alive and well - alright, she's not so sure about the well part, considering in the buttery light of one candle, he looks unshaven and disheveled.
Kreacher gives them a malevolent glare, so Joey sticks her tongue out right back at him.
'What's going on?' Sirius asks, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. 'Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-'
'Ask Harry,' Fred says, clutching harder onto Joey's pinky.
'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' George says.
Everyone's staring at poor Harry, and Joey's heart is aching, imagining all he's been going through, because - because this must be to do with You-Know-Who, surely? It seems like whenever something goes wrong in Harry's life, that horrible big poo of a man is behind it. And trust her when she says things go wrong in Harry's life a lot.
'It was - ' Harry began, 'I had a - a kind of - vision...'
He tells them everything. Joey does try to listen, promise, but it's a bit scary and also sounds too complicated for her to understand. All she knows is that Arthur's hurt, and that's all that matters. So she just stands there trying to send reassuring telepathy messages to Ron, who still looks like he's seen the Bloody Baron.
Is it just her (probably, to be honest), or are Fred and George - especially Fred, surprise surprise - almost frowning at Harry? Like he's the one who's attacked Arthur? Um, she doesn't like that at all.
'Is Mum here?' Fred asks Sirius and Frances, breaking the queasy silence.
'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' Frances says. 'The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.'
'Oh, blooming Umbrella,' Joey mutters, and she swears a smile briefly flashes across Sirius' stony face.
'We've got to go to St. Mungo's,' Ginny says urgently. She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'
Why can't we just go in our pyjamas? Joey wonders. Perfectly fashionable, if you ask her!
'Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!' exclaims Sirius.
Fred grunts, which Joey knows is his very eloquent way of protest. ' 'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want, he's our dad!'
'And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?'
'What does that matter?' George demands.
'It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!' said Sirius angrily. 'Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?'
Fred and George look like they obviously don't care what the Ministry thinks of everything - and neither does Joey, after the way they've treated Ceddie. So she crosses her arms across her chest, and thinks about how formidable she must look. Not!
'Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's - '
'We don't care about the dumb Order!' Fred shouts, and Joey glances downward to see their hands intertwined. Weird. She doesn't remember that happening!
'It's our dad dying we're talking about!' yells George.
Dying.
'Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank
you for messing things up for the Order!' Sirius practically roars. Their neighbours' poor eardrums. 'This is how it is — this is why you're not in the Order — you don't understand — there are things worth dying for!'
'Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellowed Fred. 'I don't see you risking your neck!' He turns to Frances. 'Either of you!'
'Freddie, come on,' Joey says softly. 'They're under house arrest, what do you expect them to do?'
'Shut the fuck up, both of you!' Frances screams, and Joey knows if the twins will listen to anyone, it's her. 'Stop being so fucking immature. Taking your anger out on us isn't going to solve anything; we're doing the right thing and keeping you safe.' Fred rolls his eyes. 'If the Ministry finds out about the Order or Harry's vision, everything will go to complete shit.' George rolls his eyes. 'You're going to shut up, listen to Sirius and I, and wait. Understand now?'
Frances and Sirius exchange a look, you know the type of look, and Joey can practically feel Fred and George seething. She wonders if either of them will develop Pyotr's trick of steaming at the ears like he does when he's really, really pissed. But they don't. Fred just squeezes her hand so hard she swears all the bones get crushed, just like that. Not that she even cares.
'I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet,' Sirius says with an expression of forced calm, compared to Frances, who looks like she's just swallowed a volcano. 'We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?' He turns to Fred, glaring. 'And listen to your girlfriend, OK?'
It's Ginny who sits down first, into an old smelly-looking sofa, and the twins follow, still looking sour as lemon and lime. Joey collapses in between them, and she suddenly realises how exhausted she is. Like her eyelids are made of lead, and all she wants is to sink into slumber, but she's too nervous to sleep, worrying about Arthur, Arthur, sweet precious lovely Arthur...
She's fiddling with Fred's fingers, trying to calm him down. It hurts her when they get like this, but she can't imagine how they must be feeling right now. It's agony for her, and Arthur isn't even her dad. So for them...
George has curled up closer to Ginny, stroking his little sister's hair, so Joey just turns to Fred. Because she knows all the anger is just a way to deal with all his fear, and there's a lot of fear, it's like it's attacking him just like that snake attacked Arthur. (Side note, Joey actually liked snakes before all this, believe it or not. Ew, never again!)
'He's going to be alright,' she whispers, squeezing his palm so hard her nails leave faint crescent moons on his skin.
He turns to her, eyes red-ringed. 'And you can promise me that, can you?'
'Freddie, you know I can't. But we have to stay positive, yeah?'
'Yeah,' he mutters. 'Yeah, you're right. It's just so - so... Merlin, I'm sorry.'
'Sorry for what?'
'I dunno, Joeypoos. I dunno. I'm just sorry.'
She cups his cheek in her tiny hand. 'Freddie my love, none of this is your fault. There is nothing for you to be sorry about.'
He nods slowly, thumbing the skin under her eye where the tiredness stains the skin, all granite and lilac. 'Get some sleep, babe, you look exhausted.'
'You don't exactly look like the winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award yourself,' she teases tiredly, her eyes already sliding shut, her ginger hair already flowing into the crevices of his neck and side.
With her eyes closed everything from earlier feels so much more surreal. Like, she can't get over how weird this evening has been. And so horrible for the Weasleys, and the twins, she can't...
She feels guilty for sleeping, but she knows her eyes can't stay open for much longer. So she takes one last look at George and Ginny, both of them desperately clinging to some normality and serenity, before she goes under.
And in her ear she hears, 'Johannah, I...' but the rest of Fred's sentence fades as she enters dreamland without looking back once.
(Which is a shame. Because future Joey knows that it was an incredibly important sentence, and she was a plum not to hear it. Hearing it now would've saved her a lot of bother and pining down the line!)
a/n
alexa play i dont dance by everyone's fave gays chad n ryan
also can u believe last christmas never got to number1 lol
heeeeeey!!! thank u for reading this one!!! hope u enjoyed the /dramz/ hehe, and i hope ur all well and safe also
see u tomorrow ;)))) ur gonna like this one i think !
xoxo, nolan<3333333