FIFTY EIGHT

THE NEXT MORNING, Andrew arrived at the Burrow. The sound of his loud voice woke her up. Fred was awake as well, but still holding her protectively.

"SHE'S SLEEPING, ANDREW!" Molly's voice rang from below.

"I'M NOT LEAVING HERE UNTIL I SEE MY DAUGHTER!" He snapped back. Rory got up, wincing as she accidentally put pressure on her wrists to prop herself up.

"Ah!" she yelped, pulling her arm up and rubbing her wrist.

"Are you alright?" Fred whispered, "Mum brought up the painkiller potion she'd been giving George for you, so you can walk alright... here." He held out a small vial to her, filled with a light pink liquid. She sighed and drank the contents. It didn't taste like anything, which was nice. She feared it would be like the poison called cough syrup she'd drink as a kid. However it was flavorless and went down smoothly. The relief was almost instantaneous. She was still sore, but there was no blinding pain that shot through her body like hours before.

Her and Fred walked down the stairs, the smell of the hot breakfast they were promised engulfing their senses.

"See! You woke her up!" Molly snapped at Andrew. Andrew ignored her and went to hug his daughter, softly.

"Your wrists... your ankles..." he said, "Here, come to the couch. I'll redo your bandages. They shouldn't take long to heal... what was it? What caused this? What did they do to you?"

Rory realized she hadn't told anyone about her interrogation, she was too stunned afterwards to speak and couldn't in front of the Death Eaters.

Andrew led Rory to the sofa where she sat down.

"Well..." she swallowed hard, "first, I lied about my name. I dunno if they could tell or not but, the one, Avery, he shot these black ropes from his wand. It wasn't even bad, not at first. They asked if I knew where he was and I... I pretended like I didn't know what they were talking about. They didn't buy it... they brought someone else in —"

Rory shut her eyes as the families sting of tears crept to her brown eyes. In her mind, the image of McDowell appeared. She gasped and opened them, not wanting to picture him.

"Er... well, McDowell. I worked for his wife up until a month ago when her and her kids went into hiding. Maybe he knew who I was and knew I was lying from the start. But he asked me the same questions and when I wouldn't answer again he tightened my ropes. I begged him to... to stop but..."

"You don't have to go on if you can't," Andrew said softly, "I understand. When something like that happens, oftentimes reliving it is just as bad. You can talk when you're ready —"

"It's fine," she snapped, "Sorry... I just... I screamed and I screamed and I told him I knew nothing and he tightened them more and more and he finally let go. Then he threw me down in the living room."

Andrew nodded, "Well, we know about Dark Magic and how tricky it is. You'll heal, though, I just can't wave my wand for it to go away. The Murtlap was a good idea, Molly. I think if we lather it on some bandages it should help soothe them. I doubt there'll be scarring, but I can't say for sure."

"Just... do whatever you can." Rory said.

So, Andrew reapplied her bandages with the Murtlap Essence and she felt alright. She made her way to the kitchen and ate eggs and toast with some bacon as the rest of the house woke up.

"I can't believe they hurt you," Andrew sneered, "They hurt you and there's nothing I can do."

"I don't expect you to do anything, dad!" Rory said. She was irritable, maybe it was from her pounding headache or her sore body, but she couldn't help it.

"I'm your father I'm supposed to protect you against these things," he mumbled.

She set down her fork with a clatter, "I did just fine protecting myself." She put her head in her hands and groaned, "Is there anything that can help this bloody headache?"

"Sleep," Fred said.

Rory shook her head, "I can't, not now. Not here at least. I need to... I need to get out of this room. I need... something to do."

"You could water the garden, dear," Molly smiled.

Rory nodded and stood up, "My wand is upstairs. I'll get it and then —"

"I got it for you!" George smiled, twirling it around between his fingers.

Rory grabbed it and smiled, "Thanks. Alright, this'll keep me occupied for... ten minutes. See you all then."

Andrew stood up, "You're not going alone."

Fred raised his hand, "I'll go."

The brunette rolled her eyes and ignored them, leaving the Burrow without waiting for Fred.

She pointed her wand at a bush of white roses and muttered, "Aguamenti."

"Tell me whats wrong, Rory," Fred said, joining her in the garden. She watched as the water poured from her wand, kissing the delicate flower petals. New buds slowly blossomed before her as the magical water rained over them.

She shook her head, eyes on the nature before her, "You all think I'm weak, don't you? Well I'm not, I'm fine. We all got interrogated. I'm not some special case, alright? I don't wish to be treated like one."

"You were hurt, worse than the rest of us," Fred said as she hovered her wand over rows of daises. "We're just trying to look out for you, make sure you're alright."

She sighed, "Finite. I'll be alright if we never talk about this again. I've already been interrogated once, I'm not interested in giving anyone a play by play of what happened. I want to forget about this entirely. Please."

He nodded, "Alright, if that's what you want."

[][][][][]

FRED KEPT UP HIS END of the bargain, and Rory didn't hear a whiff of the interrogation again. Life went back to normal, at least on the surface. Her bandages were removed after a few weeks, and she felt like herself again.

The shop was operating, albeit most of Diagon Alley was boarded up and abandoned. The Ministry had been completely taken over by Death Eaters which included the Prophet. There were more attacks than ever before, but only being reported in underground ways. Magazines like the Quibbler became the only true news any of them consumed. Propaganda against Harry was plastered everywhere they went. Harry Potter, one of the kindest boys Rory had ever met. Him, Ron, and Hermione hadn't returned.

September first came, Ginny went to Hogwarts, so did Aaron, but only one got to stay.

He was sent home, before stepping foot on the grounds. It was his surname that sent him away. Aaron Archer, son of Muggle Christine Archer. Not Aaron Harrison, son of Wizard Andrew Harrison. He couldn't prove himself to be a half-blood, and all Muggle born students were sent away.

It was a blessing in disguise at first, he got to help with preparing for the baby. Cordelia was getting more pregnant by the second. There was no more Quidditch, which made her dreadfully bored around the house and Aaron kept her company while Andrew was at work longer hours than ever before.

The shop wasn't super busy, not like it used to be the summer before. There were customers still, but never lines out the door and a sea of heads eagerly making purchases.

It was a mid September evening, closing up with George while Fred was in the office.

"Did we sell any Quibblers today?" George asked.

Rory went over to the small stack of magazines on the counter and counted them, "Yeah, we sold about six. Have you read this one yet?" Rory picked it up and began flipping through the pages.

"Not yet... fifty five, fifty six, fifty seven..." George counted to himself, plopping Galleons into a small pouch. "Take this up to Fred, will you?"

Rory nodded, placed the magazine down and took the money from the till. She walked up to the office and knocked three times.

"Come in," Fred said. Rory opened the door and saw him sitting at the desk, (the picture of them she had given him their first Christmas as a couple sat propped in the corner) his sleeves rolled up, bent over parchment with furrowed brows.

"Here's the money from today," she said, "Do you need me to do the maths?"

He nodded, "Yeah, if you don't mind. We need to pay Verity, Kirsty, and you... then set aside enough for next month's products... then the bills and..."

"I've got it, love," Rory said, spilling the Galleons, Knuts, and Sickles on to his desk, opposite him.

She began counting the money carefully, doing the maths on a notepad with a ballpoint pen. She chewed her lip in concentration. There was silence in the office, an odd thing for the two of them. However they were both focused, in the zone.

"Don't forget Verity stayed an extra hour last week," Fred mentioned. She nodded and wrote it down, adding it to her calculations. Maths was never her favorite subject, but she did it for the twins. She would do anything for them.

"Can you come here for a second, make sure this looks right?" Fred asked, looking down at the parchment he was writing on. She nodded and got up, peering over his shoulder on the other side of the desk. The parchment was order forms for their next batches of products. Lists of what they needed and when they needed it by where written down in his scratchy handwriting.

"Looks perfect," she nodded, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He kissed her back, lovingly on the lips. He touched her waist and pulled her closer, she almost fell on to his lap. Making out in the office was nothing they hadn't done before, as unprofessional and naughty as it was. She enjoyed the adrenaline rush it gave her, it reminded her of playing pranks with him as a child.

"I think George can handle closing by himself," Fred smirked against her loose lips. She smiled and kissed him slower.

"Yeah. I think so too," she agreed. They hadn't been intimate in a while, Fred had been to worried about her injuries to want to accidentally hurt her in any way. She respected it. Also, sex wasn't the backbone of their relationship and they did just fine without it. But they were humans and it was a natural instinct.

She was now pressed against him on the chair one knee on his lap as she leaned down, her hand slightly tugging his red hair. The skirt she had worn at work was pleated nearly across her thighs and his. His hands travelled up her thighs and rested comfortably under her skirt.

Rory became slowly lost in his lust, forgetting they were on a desk chair in the office of the shop.

That was, until she heard the door swing upon.

"Fucking hell you two!" George shouted, exiting and slamming the door behind him.

Fred didn't look embarrassed, and actually tightened his grip and kissed her deeper.

"Fred," she sighed, pulling away, "Let's continue this upstairs, later, okay?"

He threw his head back, but agreed. She stepped away and went back to her work, adjusting her skirt with a red face and pink ears.

"Think we should apologize to him?" Rory asked.

Fred shrugged, "Nah. He never apologized to me the one time I walked in on him and Marina in the living room. Trust me, they were doing much worse than making out."

Rory gasped, "Oh! Yeah, I guess we're alright then."

The two went back to their work, finishing up for the night.

"I'll finish closing with George," Fred said, "You go back up to the flat. Don't worry about cooking dinner, there's leftovers in the fridge."

"Thanks, Fred," she smiled, "Are you sure you —"

Rory shrieked as a silver mist flew into the room, taking the form of a dog, a Saint Bernard.

She held her breath as Andrew's voice came from the Patronus:

"Come to the house. Aaron's been taken."