CHAPTER NINETEEN:
DEAD WEIGHT
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THREE DAYS LATER, BILL and Fleur got married. Keegan was up with the sunrise, her neck aching as she eased her body from its uncomfortable position in the armchair closest to the couch. Molly hadn't wanted to move George, and for once in his life, George didn't seem to mind having his mother doting over him. It was a lot to get used to, only having one ear. Both physically and mentally. Keegan had a bed waiting upstairs for her if she wanted, but it didn't feel right leaving George to cope with it on his own. So she held his hand until he fell asleep, changed his bandages routinely under Molly's instruction, then curled up in the armchair and slept fleetingly. That morning, she rose with deep purple circles beneath her eyes, an exhausted yawn already slipping past her lips. It took her a second to realise where she was, and the sudden emptiness of the room wasn't lost on her.
"George?" The couch was vacant, the blankets pushed back carelessly. Panic, hot and acidic, coiled in Keegan's gut, spreading until her chest started to feel tight. "George! Where are you?"
He was supposed to rest as much as he could. As it was, the wedding and reception were going to take a lot out of him. The image of his body collapsed somewhere, his bandage soaked with blood, tore through Keegan's defences until bile threatened its way out of her throat. She had to find him, she was supposed to take care of him--
"George!"
"Keegan? What's wrong?"
She should've felt relieved. When she all-but-sprinted into the kitchen, she found George leaning against the sink with a coffee mug in hand, dressed in his suit, a toothbrush stuck between the bandages wrapped around his wounded ear. Harry and Ginny stood beside the dining table with flushed cheeks, though alarm distracted them from whatever George had walked in on. Keegan forced herself to pause then, to breathe.
George was okay. She just needed to breathe.
"Keegs?"
"I-it's nothing," she muttered, keenly aware of the way that Harry and Ginny were looking between them. George crossed the room then, concern etched across his face, and Keegan's heart instinctively seized until she was close enough to catch him if he fell. "I just woke up and you weren't there..."
Understanding replaced his concern then. In the abrupt silence, Harry and Ginny gave their thinly-veiled excuses and quickly vacated the kitchen. Keegan couldn't say she was sorry to see them go. She'd already shown far too much vulnerability around the entire Weasley family as it was. If she could pretend she was fine, she would.
"You're okay?" she asked once she was sure Harry and Ginny were far enough away. As she spoke, she pushed some of his hair out of his face, just to be sure he wasn't trying to hide anything from her.
George grinned. He seemed... amused. Keegan's shoulders were still bunched with tension. She couldn't bring herself to smile back. The thought of dressing up for the wedding a mere few hours away had her stomach dropping with dread.
"I'm fine, love," George sighed. He kissed her cheek when she didn't respond. "Promise." At last, she smiled, and George's lips moved to her mouth but quickly pulled away at the sound of his mother's stressed screeches coming from one of the rooms upstairs. "You better get ready before mum hunts you down. She'll change your clothes herself if she has to."
Shuddering at just the thought, Keegan pried her body away from George and forced her feet to move towards the stairs. Sparing one last glimpse into the kitchen as she went, she caught a glimpse of George humming to himself as he re-filled his coffee, finally yanking the toothbrush out of his bandages and discarding it in the rubbish. Keegan shook her head and turned away, managing to avoid Molly's rampage by ducking around the corner into Ginny's room. Hermione was already in there, wearing a pretty red dress with her hair hanging around her face in soft curls. She looked startled by Keegan's appearance, then smiled tentatively.
"Sorry," Keegan's face flushed. "I should've knocked..."
"You're okay," Hermione shrugged absentmindedly. She was too busy trying to pin back her hair to truly pay her a second glance. Grumbling to herself, she asked, "Hey, do you think you could help me? I was going to find Ginny but she's been... caught up... by Mrs Weasley."
Caught up was definitely a nice way of putting it, but Keegan thought it better not to point it out as she crossed the room to take the hair pin from Hermione's struggling hands. With instruction from the younger girl, Keegan gathered up half her curls and pinned them beneath the crimson leather pin. The colour matched perfectly with her dress, dancing in the dim light when Hermione stood up to take an experimental spin, the folds of her skirt flowing like water to which Keegan whistled and Hermione smiled bashfully.
"I'll leave you to it," she said then, glancing at the alarm clock Ginny had on her bedside table. "You don't have much time."
Fortunately, Keegan wasn't all that bothered. Her dress was a soft shade of sage green, with a deep neckline and fanciful gold beading lining the bodice and the straps in twinkling lines. The hem trailed down to just below her ankles, and it would've touched the floor had she not paired it with a pair of strappy gold heels that matched both the design of her dress and her earrings, the ones George had given to her for their first Christmas together. She smiled as she looped them through her ears, deciding to draw her hair back in a low bun, leaving a few strands to frame her face but wanting people (George) to notice the tiny, glistening jewels.
By the time she was ready, there was twenty minutes to spare and Molly had started knocking on the door erratically. "Keegan!" she called as Keegan hurriedly spritzed on perfume. "Keegan, dear, are you almost ready?"
"Coming, Molly!" Keegan exclaimed just as she reached the door and swung it open.
Molly gave a sigh of relief at the sight of her. "You look lovely, dear, but there's no time to waste! George is already out by the marquee, if you wanted to go join him..."
It was more of a demand than it was a suggestion.
"Sure thing. I'll see you down there."
Deciding it was best not to stress her out any more, Keegan hurried downstairs and through the back door to where a giant white tent had been erected in the neighbouring field. Nearly everyone was already inside, but a few people apart from The Order members guarding the entrances milled about in the yard chatting. Keegan spied a few veela -- relations of Fleur, she was sure -- chatting to Fred and George, with Fred thriving under the attention like a thirsty man finding water.
Chuckling to herself, Keegan snuck up behind George and looped an arm around his waist. "Guess who?" she murmured in his ear, to which George hummed and pretended to give it some thought.
"Why, is that you, Severus?" he asked at last, his voice dropping into a teasing, breathless whisper.
Keegan scoffed and smacked his arm, releasing his torso as George laughed and turned around to kiss her. "You look beautiful, love," he murmured against her lips, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw up to where her earrings hung. His eyes shone at the sight of them. "But not as dashingly gorgeous as me, I'm afraid."
"Of course not," Keegan played along, running her hands along the lapels of his suit jacket, one she was sure she would steal later when it inevitably got cold. "Purple looks good on you."
"Anything looks good on me, but thanks for the compliment--"
"Are you done?" Annoyed, Fred cut between them with an exaggerated pout.
George mirrored his expression as he asked, "Aw, Freddie, what's up your ass?"
"Your... disgusting display scared away my dates."
Keegan snorted. "Oh, I'm sure they were all lining up to dance with you, Fred."
Fred smirked, correcting her smoothly, "Oh, my sweet, innocent sister-in-law." George coughed, face burning pink. "They didn't want to dance with me--"
"Okay! I think I've heard enough." With her nose scrunched in distaste, she quickly offered her arm to George. "Care to escort me inside, Georgie?"
"Hey, don't forget me!" Fred exclaimed before George could respond. He was quick to worm his way between them, one arm looping through George's while the other reached for Keegan. "Come on, kiddos, we have a brother to torture."
"You'll do no such thing," Keegan scolded the snickering twins. Together, the three of them entered the marquee just as a low hush settled over the crowd. They quickly sunk into seats at the front where the rest of the Weasleys and friends were seated, Keegan muttering under her breath in warning, "At the reception? Fine. But no funny business in the ceremony."
"Fine."
"If we have to."
The twins grumbled and complained, but nonetheless, they heeded her words and were the most polite and well-behaved that Keegan had ever seen them. She barely had the chance to admire the set-up -- from the ornate golden chairs to the plush purple carpet, the blooming white flowers and the golden balloons hanging precariously over the bride and groom's heads, By the time Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour had exchanged their vows and kissed as newly appointed husband and wife, she was thoroughly suspicious, and rightly so. As applause erupted around the marquee, the balloons exploded in a flurry of petals and birds taking flight. Keegan eyed the grinning twins, but couldn't deny it was one of their more harmless ideas.
"No scolding, love?" George leaned in to ask.
Keegan, still clapping as the bride and groom began to greet their guests, shook her head at him. "I'll save it for later."
George smirked. "Oh?"
"You infuriate me."
"Well, you know what they say about hate--"
"Let's go greet the bride and groom," she cut in with flushed cheeks. When George sighed, she pursed her lips and tugged on his hand. "George."
"But I see Bill nearly every day," he rolled his eyes. "I'm long past the point of greeting him."
"I don't care. It's polite."
As the couple weaved their way through the crowd, magic pushed the chairs to the outskirts of the room around several large, circular tables covered in purple and white silken cloths. A dance floor replaced the woollen carpet, glowing dimly beneath a large canopy lit by a chandelier and glimpses of a molten sunset. To the right of them was a podium showcasing a quartet of golden-jacketed performers and their instruments. To the left was a series of waiters in matching uniforms. They brought around silver trays filled to the brim with jugs of Firewhiskey, stemmed champagne glasses, butterbeers and pumpkin juices, any drink both muggle and magic one could think of. At the very back of the room, serving tables groaned beneath the weight of sandwiches and tarts while the main meals were prepared.
By the time they reached Bill and Fleur and Keegan got to pull Fleur in for a hug, George had somehow managed to snatch a Firewhiskey for himself and a champagne for Keegan, stuffing down a sandwich so he had a free hand to shake Bill's own.
"Congratulations, you guys!" Keegan exclaimed when Fleur finally pulled away from her, the beautiful, blushing bride that she was. She looked... ethereal, in a stunning white dress with black and silver stitching, Aunt Muriel's tiara glistening in the eaves of her curly blonde hair. Bill, for once in his life, had his normally rugged hair gelled back to reveal his smile, his suit linings matching Fleur's dress. "You both look dashing."
"I'd agree, but you know what they say," George grinned cheekily at Bill, who scoffed in preparation for whatever bullshit his annoying little brother had to share. "The groom's brother is always better-looking."
Fleur blinked owlishly at him. "I've never heard anyone say that before."
George clutched at his chest in mock-hurt. Fleur frowned and Bill rolled his eyes, addressing Keegan like George hadn't spoken. "Thanks, Keegs. I'm glad you both are here."
For a split-second, George sobered, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "As if we'd be anywhere else."
Bill grinned. "I knew you had a heart somewhere deep down, George."
"Yeah, yeah, don't tell anyone."
They didn't get the chance to chat for long before the bride and groom were whisked away to greet more guests. For a while, George and Keegan stood in the corner, swapping their drinks as a curious George tried champagne and quickly declared that it tasted 'too much like piss.' It was only once he was three fire whiskeys in (Keegan just finishing her second champagne) that he dragged Keegan out onto the dance floor, the rambunctious beat of the music slowing down at just the wrong moment for George's energetic feet.
"What?" he whined and pouted as Keegan laughed and curled her arms around his neck. "How am I supposed to do the Irish Jig to this?"
For a second, he looked like he was considering the logistics of doing it anyway, but he was quickly shut down with a glare from Keegan. "Just slow dance with me, Georgie. I'm sure they'll play a jig for you soon."
But soon wasn't soon enough. He only made it through two dances before he got distracted by a fresh round of Firewhiskey, to which he passed Keegan off to Charlie, the one brother she hadn't gotten to meet properly.
Though their reunion would have to wait for another day.
As one song ended and another began, whatever Charlie wanted to say died on his lips as he stared past Keegan's head with wide, concerned eyes. Frowning, she whirled around just in time for everything to go dark. A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd, and the dancefloor quickly emptied out as the eerie blue shape of a patronus shared the echo of a deadly warning.
"The Ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic is dead. They are coming..."
They were given a window of five seconds.
Five.
With terrified shouts, the crowd pushed and shoved for the exits. Some guests grew impatient and apparated on the spot, sharp cracks like gunfire replacing the lull of music as the band also disappeared in the chaos.
Four.
Keegan's heart pounded so fast, she swore she was about to pass out. Blood rushed in her ears and drowned out most of the faces, sounds, terror occurring all around her. She lost Charlie in the midst of it all, and in the blur of redheads with George's extended family in attendance, she struggled to find one that was familiar.
Three.
"George!" she cried desperately. She pushed her way through the group of veela from before. One was sobbing while the others dragged her along like their lives depended on it. "George!"
Two.
She needed to get out of there. Where was George? Anyone she knew? She needed to find help--
One.
The marquee roof shattered as the first Death Eater appeared. With his face covered by a silver mask, he didn't hesitate to send a curse in one unfortunate guest's direction. The woman collided with a table and didn't get back up as fire licked up the sides of the silken cloth. More Death Eaters arrived in a sea of black cloaks.
"George!"
"Keegan?"
She could hear him. It was like listening to sounds below water, muffled and distant, but he was somewhere close. She just needed to get to him, quickly--
A blur of black. A flash of green. Keegan ducked as the Death Eater bore down on her. "Expulso!" she shouted, and didn't stick around to see if the curse met its mark. A hand latched onto her arm. Keegan screamed.
"It's me, Keegs-- Stupefy!"
Suddenly, George was there with Fred right behind him. The world snapped back into focus. Of course the Weasleys were at the centre of everything, surrounded by The Order, no Harry, Ron or Hermione in sight. Keegan hoped they managed to escape in time, but barely had the chance to breathe let alone think of anyone else's survival as George and Fred gave their family one last look then turned away.
"Come on, we've gotta get you out of here!"
Before Keegan could protest, and with a group of Death Eaters closing in on them, they apparated away.