Raucous cheering and catcalls broke out at the Gryffindor table. Heather's face was fixed into a moue of disgust. Gryffindor had just won this year's House Cup even though Slytherin was once again the Quidditch Champion.
However, that wasn't what Heather had a problem with. She couldn't care less about such trivialities. No, what she took exception to was what had allowed the lions to win.
Points. The damnable old coot had awarded House Points. To Hadrian, Ronald and Hermione. And for what? For impetuousness, taking unnecessary risks and breaking school regulations! For putting themselves in harm's way! It was as if the Headmaster actually approved of their behaviour!
Heather glowered fiercely at the jovial wizard. She thought it was a very effective look. She had Professor Snape as an example, after all. Unfortunately, burning glances weren't Incendios. If they were, the potion classrooms would erupt in Fiendfyre every day.
She would be having another talk with Hadrian later. Just in case Professor Dumbledore had given him any ideas.
Heather didn't understand the aged wizard. He didn't seem at all worried about her brother running off into danger. He even subtly encouraged such undertakings!
It had been frightening to find out that Voldemort wasn't entirely dead, but to hear that he was gunning for Hadrian had revived her nightmares with a vengeance. Only now she had more delightful memories to add to the cocktail.
But Headmaster Dumbledore, he had said that they needed a someone to ensure that Voldemort never came into power again. Heather knew who he wanted his champion to be. Not if she had anything to say about it. No way.
Anyway, that was part of why Heather and Hadrian found themselves packed off to another riveting summer at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Heather would have to research blood wards and sacrificial magic.
~~~
It chafed dreadfully to be cooped up in the Cupboard Under the Stairs after being accustomed to the large expanse of Hogwarts grounds.
They barely fit into the space anymore. Even though they were both still petite (shut up, GredForge), they had grown a couple of inches, Hadrian even more. With the surplus of food and exercise, it was inevitable. They resigned themselves to an exceptionally cramped summer.
Lucky for them, Hagrid had agreed to take care of Anguis and Hedwig over the holidays. Now, if only they could take proper care of themselves at the Dursleys' non-existent mercy.
The horrible tension in the house had mounted since the last summer. Heather told herself to just bear with it. A few more weeks and they would be totally free. That, she had been assured of, at least.
So why did the feeling of foreboding dog her footsteps?
~~~
Hadrian mumbled incoherently when Heather got out of their cot. She shushed him gently and shuffled to the door.
It was slightly after midnight when she woke from a rare nightmare-free sleep. She shouldn't have drunk that last cup of chamomile. Groggily, she fumbled with the locks and made her way to the bathroom.
An odd clicking sound startled her as she was leaving the toilet. She paused, straining her ears. Nothing. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She really needed more sleep. Perhaps Dreamless Sleep potion? If she added more mint and less bergamot, maybe the addictive properties would –
Heather was slammed painfully into the wall. A bulky hand grasped her neck, choking her. She immediately starting clawing at the appendage, trying to gulp in precious oxygen.
"Frreak! How'd ya get outta da cup-cupboard!" Vernon! The damn pig was drunk! "Dirrty frreaksss like ya needa stay l-locked up!" he slurred, tightening his fist.
Heather's eyes widened in fear and she tried to gather her magic. But, she couldn't... couldn't breathe! Panicking, she struggled uselessly against the man. She dug her nails deep into Vernon's arm, hoping to make him recoil in shock. She made desperate little inhalations at the momentary loosening.
It only served to fuel his inebriated rage. His nostrils flared widely. "Ya bitch! Dare ta threat'n me, do ya! Where's ya frreaky powers now!" Smirking cruelly, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted sharply. "Can't use dat stick now!"
Shrieking loudly, Heather renewed her struggles, pushing against the hulking man. Her arm flared in agony. Her broken wrist was excruciating. Her efforts were in vain; her captor was easily thrice her size.
An unholy light entered his beady eyes and he gave a sick smile. A sweaty hand pawed roughly up her thighs, abdomen, chest. "Only one good use for ya, whore."
Heather jerked violently at the insinuation. She fruitlessly tried to back away, but she was losing strength. Black spots dotted her vision. No, no! She had to get away!
Again, she tried to call up her magic. It kept slipping from grasp. Not enough focus! Lungs screaming for air! No, no, no, no-
The grabby hand was wrenched violently from her at the exact moment the vice around her neck was ripped away. The vile pig was thrown against the opposite wall and pinned up by an invisible force.
Gulping feverishly, she slid to the floor. Hands grabbed her shoulders and she flinched violently, pushing the person away. Finally, she could reach her magic and she flung it outwards viciously. The sound of furniture breaking was deafening.
"Heather, Heather! It's me, Hadrian!"
Hadrian? She had to get to him! She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Why was everything blurry? Her face was wet. Hadrian's anxious face came into view.
"Rian?" she whispered. With trembling hands, she pulled him close. "S-sorry! Did I hurt you? That blast of magic!" A quick inspection revealed him to be unharmed. "Sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Ssh, Heather. It's okay, I'm fine. We're fine," Hadrian cooed soothingly. He glared menacingly at the disgusting man stuck to the wall. He tightened the magical restraints, taking vindictive pleasure from making the man gasp for air.
Heather followed her brother's gaze and flinched again. They had to go. Standing shakily, she murmured, "We have to leave. Now. Rian!" Their shrunken trunks came flying out of the cupboard. They hadn't bothered unpacking. Another wandless spell knocked Vernon out.
Wordlessly, Hadrian followed his sister's lead as she snuck into Mrs Figg's house. As expected, his sister stumbled into his arms as she stepped out of the floo. He hadn't anticipated Mr and Mrs Weasley's appearance though. But of course they had an alarm on their floo. He held back a swear. It wouldn't be easy to answer their questions. Heather didn't need this right now.
So he grabbed a Sleeping Draught from one of their trunks and coaxed her into taking it. It was a testament to how out of it she was that she hadn't recognised it on sight and rejected it.
"Oh heavens! What happened to you two?" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. Then she looked closer at his sister. "What happened to Heather?" She carried her to the sofa and began examining her.
He knew what she was seeing. Red handprints around her neck. Bones protruding from the skin at her broken right wrist. Clothes torn and ripped. More handprints peeking from exposed skin. The image was seared into his mind.
"Here, Hadrian." Mr Weasley handed him a cup of hot chocolate. "It'll warm you up and make you feel better."
Hadrian accepted it with a wobbly smile. He could hear his sister in his mind now. 'Chocolate has healing properties and is often consumed after traumatic situations.' Then she'd pointedly eat her fourth slice of chocolate cake.
He heard Mrs Weasley gasp – she must've found the bruises on Heather's thighs.
"So Ron tells me you were made seeker. That's impressive! The youngest in centuries, wasn't it? What's your strategy for games?" Mr Weasley said in a forced jovial tone.
Hadrian eagerly grabbed the supplied distraction. So to avoid collapsing into tears, he talked about damned Quidditch.
It was easier to remember his sister as pure grace on a broom than a trembling mess on the floor.
~~~
"Would you like to rest first, Hadrian? We can talk about this in the morning." Mrs Weasley looked worriedly at him, as if he would keel over at any given moment. Maybe he would.
"I would like to just get it over with, please."
The couple exchanged unreadable looks. "Okay, will you tell us what happened?"
Taking a deep breath, he tried to be as concise as possible. "Our Uncle," he spat out, "was drunk."
"Your Uncle?!" Mrs Weasley hissed furiously. She stood, as if to go seek him out right now.
Mr Weasley put an arm around her shoulders and calmed her down before saying, "You two are welcome to stay here, Hadrian."
"In fact, we insist on it!" Mrs Weasley added, still looking angry.
"Thank you. We won't be any trouble, I promise!"
For some reason, Mrs Weasley had a teary-eyed look at his declaration.
~~~
Waking up was a painfully slow resurfacing from a thick miasma of slumber. Drugged slumber. Heather rubbed her eyes tiredly, trying to remember – Privet Drive. Vernon. Hadrian. Burrow. Sleeping Draught. Oh.
Sitting up quickly, she winced at the aches and pains in her body. She gasped. Her injuries! She hadn't healed them before coming to the Burrow. The Weasleys were sure to have lots of questions. And she couldn't even heal them now that they had seen the bruises. At least her wrist had been mended.
Tracing the dark purple colouration up her thighs and stomach, she shuddered in disgust. Her heart started beating wildly as flashes of the previous night played unbidden in her mind. Being pinned to the wall. A large hand crushing her windpipe. Another hand, roving all over, squeezing. 'Only one good use for ya, whore.'
A loud thump downstairs jerked her out of her memories. No, she couldn't leave these marks on her skin. Not without being reminded.
Heather fumbled clumsily with her trunk, swiping up the plain phial filled with Bruise Paste. It was the Prince's recipe, designed to be twice as effective. She had made only one adjustment to it. By adding a single diricawl feather, the paste also acted as a mild concealer.
She spread a liberal amount of it over her skin, calming greatly upon seeing it work its magic. Her skin looked totally free of discolouration again – even if she could still feel the slight tenderness of almost-healed welts.
She flinched as a knock sounded on the door and Mrs Weasley popped her head in. "Heather, dear? Are you awake?"
Heather tried to slow her breathing. For a moment, she had imagined a much larger man coming through a smaller door. But Vernon would never have knocked first, he'd have just shoved his way in. Not like the obese man could have fit in the cupboard, anyway.
"G-good morning, Mrs Weasley. Sorry for the trouble last night," Heather tried to say brightly. She didn't think she fooled the Weasley matriarch. It might have been her wide eyes or shaking hands that gave it away.
"Oh, don't you worry about that, dear. Are you feeling better?" Mrs Weasley asked, full of concern. Her eyes glanced over Heather's pristine skin in puzzlement.
"I'm right as rain! Just applied some Bruise Paste," Heather said, holding up her phial.
"Must be some Bruise Paste," the woman muttered unthinkingly. Heather winced at the reminder. The bruises had been brutal. "Are you well enough for breakfast?" Mrs Weasley asked quickly, looking guilty for her careless words.
Heather nodded immediately, eager to escape the awkward conversation. Stepping out of the room, she saw a large shadow emerge from another room. She recoiled violently, almost tripping in her haste to backtrack.
"Heather?" a low, soothing voice asked. Vernon didn't sound like that. He had a raspy voice from all the bellowing he did. Her mind cleared and she saw Mrs Weasley and Charlie looking at her anxiously.
Heather forced a laugh. "Didn't notice you there, Charlie. Have you always moved so silently? Must be all that sneaking around dragons."
They weren't convinced.
Heather seated herself between Hadrian and Ginny at the chair closest to the door. Her brother squeezed her hand, almost painfully, and she returned it. She didn't know if anyone noticed her unusual placement. The twins probably did, since she usually sat next to them. She wondered guiltily if this would be another secret to keep from her best friends.
At first, she held herself stiffly, darting her gaze around the room. As the meal progressed, though, she gradually relaxed at the domestic atmosphere. The Weasley children bickered teasingly amongst themselves and their parents chided them.
Heather smiled faintly at the homely scene and soaked up the feeling of family.