CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
IN HER BLOOD

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BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING was a sombre affair. Freya knew something was wrong the moment she and Solana arrived at the Great Hall only for Fred and George to be nowhere in sight. Everything was quiet, too quiet. Lee sat with Angelina, Alicia and Katie instead, claiming that neither twin was in their bed when he woke up. He thought they were off pranking the Slytherins or visiting the kitchens for supplies, but Freya wasn't so sure. It just didn't make sense, despite what Lee believed.

However, it was only when they spotted Hermione sitting alone, no Harry or Ron at her side, that they realised none of the Weasleys were there, not even Ginny. In just one night, five students had disappeared, a whole family of them. So they went to the one person who remained. Surely, Harry and Ron would've told Hermione what was happening. And from the exhausted look in her eyes, it seemed Freya was right.

"I can't tell you much," she admitted, glancing woefully down at the untouched plate of food in front of her. Whatever happened had taken her appetite, leaving Hermione to look positively shaken up. "But something happened to Mr Weasley. For that... thing in the Summer."

Thing in the Summer? At first, Freya was confused, and so was Solana. What thing in the Summer?

Then it hit her.

The Order of the Phoenix, an organisation led by Dumbledore himself in the wake of Voldemort's return. He'd recruited anyone who lived through the last one, including Freya's father. It was part of the reason why she and Fraser had stayed at Grimmauld Place for a few weeks before she returned to Hogwarts. He was nearly always needed at meetings with the likes of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, a man who was supposedly a murderer but wasn't because his dead best friend, who was actually alive and pretending to be Ron Weasley's rat for twelve years, sold out Harry's parents to You-Know-Who... Freya couldn't lie, it was hard to believe at first, but she highly doubted that her dad would let her anywhere near the man let alone into his house if he'd actually done what he was imprisoned for.

But that wasn't the point. Dumbledore had also made sure to recruit the eldest Weasleys; Mr and Mrs Weasley, and their two two eldest sons, Bill and Charlie. Mr Weasley was part of it, and now something had 'happened.' Freya was nearly certain that 'happened' was code for injured on a mission. Was that why the Weasleys were suddenly taken out a day early? Just how serious was it?

However, when she asked Hermione, the younger girl shook her head. "I don't know," she said, seeming frustrated. "It's not safe for them to send me anything about it. Umbridge nearly caught them leaving last night, and I imagine she's just waiting for a sign that we know something. I mean, look at her."

Unfortunately, Hermione was right. Umbridge was watching them closely from her seat beside Snape, a sickly sweet smile plastered across her face to shield the anger that sizzled in her eyes. She searched the Gryffindor table again, seeming unsatisfied with her findings, then went back to glaring at Freya, Solana and Hermione like they were the root of all evil. How ironic.

"We'll just have to wait until tomorrow," Hermione declared. "I imagine, Freya, that you and I are going to be at... the house again. And Solana, you can send Fred a letter once we know Umbridge has no way of searching it first."

Solana nodded at that, but frowned as she processed what Hermione had said. "I thought you were going skiing, Hermione?"

"I was, but it doesn't feel right going on holiday right now," she sighed. "Harry and Ron need me."

"That's nice of you," Freya assured her, to which Hermione seemed grateful. Freya couldn't imagine how difficult it was for her. She spent so much time caught up in the Wizarding World and needing to be there for her best friends that she was barely ever at her own home with her parents. Like in the Summer. Freya was one of the last to arrive at the house, yet Hermione was one of the first. She would've been there for months compared to Freya, and now she was choosing to leave them again.

But Solana didn't know that. She heard Hermione mentioning Ron needing her and latched onto it with a smirk. "So," she said with a devilish grin. "What I'm hearing is that you like Ron?"

"What?" Hermione scoffed, though the blush on her face gave her away. "I don't know where you got that from, Solana, but I don't."

"Hm, if you say so," Solana surrendered, though Freya could tell she didn't believe her. "But mark my words, 'Mione. One day, the three of us will be sister-in-laws."

"What?" It took a moment for her to get it. Where Hermione just sighed and shook her head like Solana was speaking utter nonsense, Freya frowned in utter confusion. "What do you--" She cut herself with a gasp, eyes widening as Solana laughed. "Solana, what the fuck?"

"Come on, can you really blame me, Frey? You and George have so much tension," she smirked and wriggled her eyebrows. "Fred and I have a bet that you'll get married soon."

"Soon?" Freya repeated incredulously. "I only just turned seventeen-- you know what? We're not talking about this."

Solana snickered as she gathered up her things and left. She quickly followed after the girl, shouting one last goodbye to a bemused Hermione before disappearing out into the Entrance Hall. "You can deny it all you want, Freya," she said when she caught up with her. "But just remember that I've got five galleons on you two being together before we graduate. So sure, take your time, but don't be too slow? Fred will never let me live it down."

"Just for that, George is never going to know about any potential feelings of mine."

"Oh, so you admit there's feelings? Well, that's a start, Frey--"

"I said potential!"

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FREYA DIDN'T REALISE JUST how much she'd gotten used to having the twins around until it was only her and Solana together on the Hogwarts Express. Merely four months ago, she was sitting in this exact same compartment, scowling as Solana fussed over an impassive Maximus when Fred, George and Lee barged in. She remembered rolling her eyes, begrudgingly agreeing to share the space with them so that Fred and Solana could reconnect after spending the whole Summer apart.

And now, everything was different. The space beside her felt cold and empty, missing George Weasley's warmth and laughter. Now, Maximus was curled up beside her instead, sleeping the trip away so that he didn't have to deal with Solana's hugs as she sought comfort in Freya's cat for her boyfriend's absence. What should've been a bittersweet affair, their last train ride home for Christmas, was simply bitter. No friends, no laughter, just stone cold silence and the realisation that even they weren't untouchable in this war.

"I'm going to miss you," Solana murmured at some point, voice sharp like a knife but also soft, like anything louder than a whisper would ruin everything.

When Freya turned to frown at her, she found her staring out the window with a glint of worry in her eyes, like she feared this would be the last time she ever got to take the Hogwarts Express home. Only a day ago, she had teased Freya about relationships and graduation. But in just twenty-four hours, her whole mood had changed, and Freya couldn't really blame her.

Solana was only three when her dad left her behind with her muggle mother and a newborn Dean. Nobody had ever figured out what happened to him, but of course there were rumours, whispers that the man had been murdered by the Death Eaters to keep his family safe. He would've never expected this, a war reignited, his family vulnerable again. Who would be the next to die now that he was gone? Mrs Thomas, with her grief-stricken eyes that looked at her children in worry ever since You-Know-Who returned? Would it be Solana, the eldest, the one who, despite her constant jokes, was slowly beginning to realise she couldn't pretend anymore? Or would it be Dean, the youngest, desperate to make his dad proud, to save the only parent he had left and the sister always watching over him?

Solana was more like Freya than she realised, and Freya hated it.

Still, she wouldn't leave her hanging. There were so many things she wanted to say to her mother and her aunt, a million questions she would never get answers to. She couldn't run the risk of not telling Solana just how much she meant to her, only to lose her too. It would drive her mad. So instead, she said, "I'll miss you, too," running a hand through Maximus' fur. The tabby cat hissed but didn't move away, just closing his eyes like he was resigning himself to being stuck with two emotional teenagers. "I'll try and write to you more, okay? Maybe we can even meet up somewhere."

She knew her dad would never allow it, not after Mr Weasley had been hurt and especially not with Marlene's birthday just around the corner. But the false promise was worth seeing a smile return to Solana's face, even if it was only temporary.

Was this how Estelle Davies and Marlene McKinnon were feeling when the Death Eaters broke in? Like they knew everything was going to end soon, but at least they were dying together? It was a distressing thought, one that Freya immediately wanted to escape from. So she closed her eyes, willing her brain to quiet down enough that sleep could take her out. But even in sleep, the terror followed her, and Freya dreamed of Solana's dying breaths.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

FRASER WAS ALREADY WAITING for her when the train arrived at King's Cross. He and Nymphadora Tonks stood side-by-side on the platform, looking utterly exhausted but on high alert. Fraser managed a small smile as Freya made her way up to them, but not before she said one last goodbye to Solana and hugged the girl tight. She'd waited for her to join her mum and Dean, then set off to where Fraser's tall frame towered through the crowd of reuniting families, earning a few stares from parents who recognised him as a McKinnon.

"Hey, dad," Freya murmured, grinning weakly when he pulled her into a hug. The scent of Firewhiskey was strong on the collar of his shirt but she pretended not to notice as she stepped away to greet Tonks. "Hey, Tonks, how are you?"

"Wotcher, Freya," the pink-haired woman winked at her. Much to Freya's surprise, she held out a hand to take Maximus' cage, cooing at the unimpressed cat before tucking his cage under her arm. "And I'm alright, thanks for asking."

In actuality, she looked as though she could've slept for a week, but Freya wasn't about to tell her that. Instead, they stood opposite each other for a moment, no one making a move to leave the platform. "Are we waiting for someone, or...?" she finally asked, obviously confused by the hold-up.

"Oh!" Tonks' eyes lit up in sudden remembrance, like the combination of sleep deprivation and Firewhiskey had addled both her and Fraser's brains. "We need to find Hermione, Freya. She's taking the Knight Bus back with us."

The Knight Bus. So they'd be spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place then. Freya tried not to look too disappointed, but she caught the flash of acknowledgement in her dad's eyes and knew he'd seen right through her. Still, neither of them addressed it as they searched the platform together, Tonks being the one to find Hermione lingering awkwardly by the train.

Finally, they set off into London, looking awfully odd amongst the crowd of muggles going about their day. A six-foot-four man who smelled like a brewery. A short pink-haired woman who stumbled over her feet three times before they even left King's Cross Station. A blonde girl dressed in a mustard yellow sweater despite her emotions obviously contrasting the bright, happy colour. And a nervous fifteen-year-old prattling off facts about the history of London just to fill the tense silence. Not to mention the two giant trunks the girls were lugging about and the mewling cat that said pink-haired woman was struggling to keep in his cage.

Yeah, they were a complete mess.

But they managed to get to Grimmauld Place alive and in one piece -- well, Freya and Hermione did, at least. Tonks had a giant bruise forming on her arm from where she'd tripped over Maximus' cage while struggling to stand upright on the Knight Bus, and Maximus had his claws dug into Fraser's shirt as he heaved the shaking tabby inside (who would've thought a bus ride could be so traumatising?) But they were there, and boy was Freya surprised to find everything so... festive and bright.

Someone had clearly decorated the place for Christmas, and Freya was starting to think it was Sirius. The man was roaming the halls of his childhood home with a string of tinsel strewn around his neck like a scarf, whistling the tune of a muggle Christmas song that Freya only vaguely recognised. She and Hermione giggled as he marched right up to hug Fraser, exclaiming heartily, "It's good to have you here, my friend."

Fraser, with his deadpan stare, scoffed at him. "What is wrong with you?"

Sirius frowned. "Can't a guy just be excited for Christmas?"

The two's voices faded away as they followed Tonks downstairs, leaving Freya and Hermione to make their way up to where the Weasleys and Harry would be. They found Harry and Ron asleep in the room they'd shared during the Summer, and Freya left Hermione to wake them as she continued her search for Fred and George. If she remembered correctly, they shared a room on the same floor as her, so she decided to check there first. Fortunately for her, Fred was just closing a bedroom door behind him when she reached the top of the stairs, unusually quiet and withdrawn.

"Hey, Freddie," she greeted him with a gentle smile, but he still jumped in fright at the sudden sound.

"Oh, it's you," he sighed once he saw her. Freya wanted to laugh but thought better of it. She doubted he'd be down for jokes when his dad was in St Mungos.

"How are you feeling? Where's George?" she asked, glancing around for the boy in question. Though for once, the twins were alone, and the question seemed to only worsen Fred's mood.

"He's in there," he said, pointing gruffly to the door he'd just closed. "Says he doesn't want to talk to anyone. I think seeing dad got to him a bit."

"Oh," she frowned, then gasped as his words registered. "You saw your dad? How is he? Do you know what happened to him, because Hermione couldn't tell me or Sol much--"

Fred cut her off with a laugh, planting his hands on her shoulders like he wanted to shake some sense into her. "Freya, calm down," he insisted, snickering when she inhaled sharply and nodded. "But yes, he's okay. He was attacked by You-Know-Who's snake while guarding something for the Order. Of course, we don't bloody know what that something is..."

"But at least he's alright," she offered as all traces of amusement faded off Fred's face.

"Yeah, I guess."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Fred was deep in thought, probably thinking about the Order still, while Freya had caught sight of the door behind him. She wanted to reach out and open it, to see for herself that George was okay, but she didn't know if he'd even want to see her. From the sounds of it, he was feeling pretty low, and Freya didn't want to make it worse.

"Should we go downstairs then?" she sighed.

Fred hummed in contemplation, following Freya's gaze with a smirk. "If you want, you can go in," he said, then stepped aside to give her a clear path. When Freya hesitated, clearly worried, he rolled his eyes and shoved her forward. "Trust me, McKinnon. When he says he doesn't want to speak to anyone, that doesn't include you."

Frankly, that made no sense to her, but Freya didn't argue as she slowly opened the door, murmuring one last goodbye to Fred as he winked then disapparated downstairs. She caught the crack of his arrival a moment later, followed by Mrs Black's portrait screaming bloody murder and Mrs Weasley's own voice raising in frustration. But everything was blocked out as she closed the door behind her, catching sight of George laying on his bed.

"Hey, Georgie?" she murmured, slowly moving to kneel beside him. From the looks of it, he'd just dozed off to sleep, soft snores cutting through the air. She sighed but said nothing else, moving to stand up and leave. She didn't want to wake him. Judging by the bags beneath his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping properly.

"Freya?" But George was already looking at her when she turned around, confused though not unhappy. He smiled at the sight of her, hair sticking up every which way as he beckoned her over. "What are you doing here?"

"I took the Knight Bus. Looks like Dad and I are staying for Christmas," she said as she sat down beside him. George took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, pulling her in close and sighing as he settled back against the bed. Freya hesitated before laying down too, her heart hammering. Well, this was definitely new. "Do you want me to go? You look tired."

George just shook his head, already beginning to fall back asleep as he moved even closer to her. There was no space between them now, George's forehead resting on her collarbone and her chin pressed into his hair. Subconsciously, her fingers threaded through the red locks, tightening her hold when he whispered, "Please stay."

"Okay..." she sighed, closing her eyes as his breathing evened out.

At some point, she drifted off too, and would be woken a few hours later by Fred and Ginny smirking down at them. But something had changed when George reached for her. On one hand, he kept pushing away his family, and yet didn't want her to go. It warmed Freya's heart more than she cared to admit.

She was so screwed.