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Edward threw me against the cliff lightly, standing in front of me protectively.

“Edward, what’s happening,” I demanded but got no answer.

I looked around. Seth was standing about twenty feet away, growling at some unseen person – thing? – hidden by the trees around us, his fur rippling down his back. Then, I saw something from between the trees: a flicker of billowing, red hair. Realization hit me squarely in the chest so hard that it knock the air from my lungs.

I had been right. It was Victoria. It had all been connected. The newborns, the vampire in my room, and, then, the last piece of the puzzle, Victoria. She was never going to stop trying to kill me. I understood that, of course. If someone had killed Edward I would’ve stopped at nothing for revenge.

Victoria walked into the opening, her hair billowing behind her like a blood red cloud. She was followed by another vampire, a male, young and blonde. Edward snarled from in front of me. I guessed he was searching Victoria’s and the blonde’s heads for anything that might help us get out of this, alive that is.

Victoria growled and her hand flicked almost unseen at Seth. I trembled. Seth was so young. If he got hurt trying to protect me I would never forgive my self. But before the blonde could move, Edward spoke.

“She’s lying to you, Riley,” he said in his velvety voice.

“Don’t listen to him, Riley,” Victoria said in an outrageously high pitched and shrilly voice.

“She doesn’t love you,” Edward told him. “She’s been lying to you all along.”

“Riley, don’t listen to him!” Victoria shouted. “Attack the dog!”

Riley sprung forward, attacking Seth, and a small shriek escaped from my lips. But the only thing I could pay attention to was Edward. He appeared to be dancing with Victoria, and if someone didn’t know any better they would’ve guessed they were. She kept darting back and forth, looking for holes in Edward’s strategy in which she could attack…me. Edward was always one step ahead of her, though.

This dance seemed to last forever but, all of the sudden, Victoria stopped, her thin lips curving into an evil smile. A strange thought flashed through my head. In my opinion she was too cat like to be a vampire, not pretty enough. If it weren’t for the red eyes and the chalk pale skin, I could’ve mistaken her for a human with a bad hair coloring.

Victoria continued to smile but her blood-thirsty eyes moved from me to Edward. Edward grew rigid and stiff.

“Strange, my gift does not work on her,” she cackled. “But it does work on you. Now, kill the girl.”

It sounded like she was talking to herself. And what kind of gift did she have? And was I the one it didn’t work on? Her gift was like Edward’s or Aro’s or Jane’s if it didn’t work on me.

I was brought back from my thoughts by the sound of Seth being thrown against the cliff by Riley. I couldn’t dwell on my worry for Seth for to long because Edward lunged at me pinning me against the wall.

“Edward!” I screeched. “What are you doing?”

“Bella!” Edward whispered, fear in his eyes. “I can’t stop. She’s making me do this. Bella, I can’t stop myself.”

“What?” I yelled.

Then, I realized. He was bending forward, his teeth bared, leaning towards my neck. He still had me pinned against the wall with such force that the rocks cut into my shoulders. She was controlling him. He was going to kill me, drain me of all my blood, because of her. His perfect, razor sharp teeth brushed my neck, not cutting through my skin, yet. A chill went down my back.

“Stop!” Victoria said forcefully. Edward grew still. “I’m going to be more gracious to you than you were to me. I will let you say goodbye. But don’t let her move!”

Edward’s grip on my shoulder did not loosen but his teeth moved away from my neck. He moved his face so that he was looking into my eyes. His expression was so readable. He was scared. He knew he couldn’t stop Victoria from making him kill me. And - worse yet - she was going to kill me through him.

“Bella,” he sobbed tearlessly. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I don’t have control. I can’t stop her.”

“Edward, don’t!” I bawled, and my words were filled with tears. They were rolling down my face in huge blobs. “I don’t blame you.”

“I will do everything in my power to kill her,” Edward said, his voice breaking. “And I will.”

“No,” I ordered. “Don’t endanger yourself. I want you to keep on living.”

“I love you, Bella,” he whispered, so sincere it broke my heart.

“I love you too, Edward,” I told him. “No matter what, I will love you forever.”

He leaned in, but not towards my neck this time. Towards my lips. He pressed his hard lips to mine and I felt tears pouring out of my eyes in buckets. When he pulled away, I would swear that I saw a single tear roll out of his. But how could that happen? Vampires couldn’t cry.

“Times up,” Victoria sang, sounding joyous. “Now, kill her.”

Victoria laughed joyously as Edward bent forward toward my neck. His teeth pressed against my skin again and this time they broke through. I felt like screaming in pain as his venom started to sear through the wound.

Another random thought crossed my mind. I thought of how many times I had dreamt of the day when Edward finally bit me. Now that it had come, it was nothing like I had imagined. I never thought that he would bite me to kill me, but to change me into something like him. Either way I would’ve died, but at least with the latter I would’ve still lived in a way.

I could feel Edward start to suck the blood out of my veins. I was starting to grow light headed and black splotches were obscuring my vision. The end was coming now, I could feel it. I was going to die. Victoria had finally succeeded in killing me, and she had done it in the most sadistic way possible.

I blacked out, doubting that I would ever open my eyes again.
-- -- --
I was going in and out of consciousness. I kept trying to open my eyes but I couldn’t keep them open for more than a second. There were worried faces hovering above me and buzzing voices that I couldn’t understand. But above all, there was a light, shining right into my eyes. Was this heaven?

I struggled to make out the voices. They all sounded like those of angels, soft and velvety. I wanted to ask what was happening, what was going on, but my lips wouldn’t move. No, they were moving, they just wouldn’t produce sound.

“What’s she trying to say?” one of the angels asked.

“Love, love, can you hear me?” another one said. He sounded oddly familiar. Why would he be in heaven with me unless he hadn’t respected my wishes? He should still be living.

“Edward?” I moaned. “Edward?”

I tried to reach my arm out, searching for him. Something held my wrist down and I could feel a needle in my arm. But I was gaining consciousness. I opened my eyes. The light was still glaring into my eyes but my angel was standing above me.

“Edward, am I alive?” I croaked.

My angel laughed. “Yes, love,” he said. “You’re alive.”

“How?” I asked even though I would probably have forgotten by the time I was totally awake.

“Seth finished off Riley and attacked Victoria, breaking her eye contact with me, seconds before I had drained you past the point of recovery,” Edward told me. “We were able to destroy her.”

“Am I…a vampire?” I asked, highly doubting it though because of the way I felt.

“No,” Edward said. “I was able to suck the venom out again. There wasn’t much.”

I was exhausted. I needed more sleep. Edward could tell.

“You’re safe, Bella,” Edward told me. “Sleep, Bella.”

And I drifted off to sleep again.
So, i was in the middle of reading eclipse, the third book in the twilight series, when i came up with this. I was imagining how Victoria would attack Bella before i even read this part, so this is my version. I gave Victoria a "gift" that she doensn't have in the actual book. Leave your comments and keep in mind this is my version and not what actually happened in the book.

Note: i do not own these characters; they belong to Stephanie Meyers
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Gred and Forge</u>

"Arthur and Fred,"

"I'm George! Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry George,"

"Only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really-"

The hardest thing I ever had to do was walking into 93 Diagon Alley without you. For a place that celebrated pranks and good times it felt suddenly black and heavy;  suffocating. Nothing but a great big bloody reminder of every moment I'd ever spent with you. Each product stirred another memory - hours and hours of experimenting, blowing ourselves up, wracking our brains for ideas, searching the halls for willing guinea pigs to participate in our experimenting. How could I stand in that shop day after day selling people laughs? I felt like they didn't have the right to smile, not in our shop, not without you.

The first week was shit. I wanted to punch every customer that walked through the door. It was worse when the regulars asked after you. I'd always reply 'the selfish sod got himself killed and left me to look after the shop'. Drew me a few funny looks but I was glad. I wanted them to feel guilty for asking.

So maybe I didn't do it all for you. I couldn't have continued running that shop if I hadn't. I've always been a bit selfish like that.

I remember that last summer you mentioned wanting a plain and simple wedding, nothing like Bill's. I hope I can give you that. Turns out I'm getting hitched myself. Plain and simple, none of Mum's fussy, frilly, nitpicky nightmares (though I kind've want to see Ron in his old dress robes - it's my special day after all, reckon I deserve one laugh at least).

You'd like her. She's clumsy, got the feet of a giant and can't hold a wand in a kitchen, but funny and a bit mad. Your type, 'minds me a bit of Tonks. Maybe that's not a good thing. I should be sick of reminders of the dead. I get to stare at your ugly mug every day, after all. Your eyes. Your hair. Your great ugly freckles.

Even your smile now.

Your smile was always sadder than mine and a bit distant. Mine's like that now. We've never been more alike now that you're dead.

Sure we were top-ranking pranksters and a pair of formidable beaters to boot, but you and me - we were like pumpkin juice and Firewhiskey. You were the brains of the team. You also worried more. I took the challenges and you carried the weight of them; you always had my back. I hope you knew that I always tried to watch yours too. Really ballsed it up though, didn't I? The one time you actually needed me to save you, I wasn't there. I try not to think what the turn out would have been if we'd been fighting together that night instead of you and Percy.

Hah, well gutted for you. Could've been worse, at least you didn't lose an ear.

That night, the night we moved Harry out his Muggle house, the night it all started, I'd never felt so sick in all my life. I don't get nervous, but I had a feeling we were going to run into trouble. Maybe it was because I caught your eyes while crazy old Moody was sorting us into groups. They were darker, disturbed - you were trying to tell me something, to be careful maybe. I know you hated letting me out of your sight. Fair dos, let's face it, the shit hits the fan when you aren't there to keep me on a leash (or more like my ear hits the ground).

"You see...I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"

You can almost pin-point the moment when a person's heart breaks. I thought it would make you laugh, but your face looked flushed and serious... You didn't correct me. And suddenly we both knew we'd finally taken a joke too far. But nobody else mattered at that point. We were protecting each other the only way we knew how.

You knew I had a fragile pride - I was the vain one, popular with the ladies. You knew my ego had taken a real beating with Snape's curse. Swapping our names meant nothing to either of us: Fred and George, Gred and Forge. There's old magic in a name; your name's your soul, after all. In the wizarding world it's nothing short of criminal to give it away - not that we were ever strangers to illegal activity. But we were twins; two sides of the same sickle; different as we were alike; perfectly balanced - I lead, you followed. So swapping names was like swapping hats.

Maybe I was selfish, I should never have let you go ahead and continue the game but I didn't want to see that look on your face again. I knew you felt responsible. So you did the only thing you could think of to keep me smiling. My name and image, still intact and your's lugless. I thought that people would eventually guess at our prank, at our swapped identities, but suddenly everything was happening so quickly and then, one green flash after the other, you were cut off from me.

Her name's Nox. I don't know if I really love her. How can I, she thinks she's marrying you after all. I just know she'd make you happy. Don't be a git, I didn't give up my own life. I'm just sharing it with you.

I still get to hear your name every day, that's more than enough for me.


The Weasley twin sat hunched before the gravestone and traced the name carved deep into the stone with his finger: Fred

He sighed, pulling the collar of his jacket closer around his chin. '...It's so much easier seeing my name up there instead of yours.'

A Fred Weasley, Harry Potter fanfic one-shot.

Yeah, I know I've had this posted over on my other account, :iconchyss-starkiller: , but I like to keep all my F+G related works over here in the one place. Please people, don't come telling me that I'm plagiarising Starkiller's fic - I am Starkiller :XD:

So yes, this rubbish one-shot was my instant reaction to Fred's death in Deathly Hallows (my second reaction being my multi-chaptered fic, Twin Vice :lol: ). True it was a bit mean of me bumping off George in favour of Fred, but .... yeah, I have no excuse :shrug: Sorry Georgie! No hard feelings ;) Honestly, I wrote this ten minutes after finishing the book at 6:00am. T'was my way of coping... *cough* Well, that and lots of sex and beer. I'm such a healthy sod.
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Dear Fred and George,
I hope you understand that action will be taken by the Ministry due to your inappropriate behavior during my time teaching at Hogwarts. I will be sending you a notice and you shall learn of your hearing appointment in a weeks time. Have you rid yourselves of those wretched practical joke items? If not i suggest you do so or you might be facing a lawsuit if anything should happen. Toodles.

Sincerly Prissy in Pink

Dear Priss,
We hope you understand that we don't give a rat's arse about your so-called sentencing of our behavior. We found it entirely appropriate for the situation. Our joke shop is doing famously and we hope you will accept this parcel of delectable sweets as an apology for our irrational behavior towards you however. Thank you for writing, hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely Fred and George

Dear Fred and George,
I sometimes wonder how my wife has so much stress, I mean if she dealt with the raging muggle things I do I would understand more. But again with so many children maybe I don't give her the credit she deserves. What's a toaster for? I've always wondered. We haven't filed the paperwork on it yet so its still in the works. If you find out can you let me know please. I found a fellytone for your shop if you wanted it, you'll have to ask Harry or Hermione to help you use it though. Well good day to you two.

Sincerly Muggle Lover

Dear Muggle Lover,
We know from experience that having a big family is crazier than all get out. Saying its a breeze is a load of bollocks if you ask us. We asked Harry what a toaster was and he told me that you put bread in a metal box and it comes out burnt and it turns it into toast. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to us either but if you have any further questions we'll forward the muggle questions to Harry or Hermione for you. As for the TELEPHONE, Hermione was watching us to make sure we spelled that right, sorry. We are probably better off without that contraption. Thanks anyway and good luck with your wife.

Sincerly Fred and George

Dear Fred and George,
It has come to my attention that you have spoken against my son. I do not wish him to be associated with blood traitors such as yourself, its bad enough he has to have one of your lot in his year. Bloody sad your little sister didn't die when she was supposed to in her first year. Pathetic really that poor Potter had to save her. Well I'm sure that I've graced you with my attention long enough I must go now. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will get you! Blood Traitors!

Sincerely Regal Pureblood

Dear Regal Arse,
Listen here you blast-ended shrewt, you are nothing more than a coward hiding behind your oh-so-powerful master. Harry will prevail and we all know it. As for your ferret son, We do a good strong kick would do him wonders. Your presence was not needed here but considering you took the time to write we only found it acceptable that we write you back. Hope you get Avada'd!

Sincerely Fred and George

Dear Fred and George,
I'm tired of being The-Boy-Who-Lived, it royally sucks. Everyone expects me to make miracles happen. My best mate is peeved that I snogged his sister and l can't stand my potions professor. My life is a living hell. What should I do? How's the shop going by the way? Hope my investment did well.

Sincerely The-Seeker-Who-ahhh nevermind

Dear Ahhhh Nevermind,
We must first off start by saying thank you for your generous donation to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, it is much appreciated. We suggest you snog your girlfriend in private rather than around your mate. He is a bit of a blockhead at times. Defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and you won't have to deal with it anymore. Okay, we get that it's not that simple but blimey just play a prank on someone, it always makes us feel better. We'll send you a sampler of our next creation as it passes through research. Good luck and catch the snitch before that bugger Malfoy does in the next match!

Sincerly Fred and George
Damn title space, almost didnt make it in, had to take out the comma and put in the "&" sign. urgh. well here is Dear Fred and George... not sure who i'm going to do next. but these are fuuuuuuuuuun :w00t:
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Hermione sat under the tree in the Weasley's backyard, waiting for The rain
to start falling. For the past hour thunder had been rolling through the skies,
threatining a storm.
"Hermione?" came Ron's voice from the house's backdoor. "What are you
doing out here? It's about to rain!"
He started to run over to where she sat.
"I'm out here to think. I can't stand it in there! It's far to noisy for my
Ron sat down next to her and stretched his legs out.
"You know what? I've allways sorta fancied you." he said.
Hermione was taken aback by this. True, she did find Ron irresitable at times
but this was quite sudden.
"Oh, well, erm, me too." she said, trying her hardest to sound like she had no
idea what he was talking about.
"That's good." Ron said.
"Because I didn't want you to get mad when I did this."
It all happened so quickly: Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders and
pulled her into him. Before Hermione could blink they were both connected
by the lips in a feirce kiss.
At first Hermione was surprised and she tried to pull away. But soon she
found her hands running through his hair as the rain began to fall. In no time
they were soaked to the bone, but they didn't care. This was all both of them
had wanted since their second year.....
This is something i wrote a LONG time ago, like, before i got my computer. it's basically after Bill and Fleur's wedding and eveyone's inside talking and celebrating, and it's too loud for Hermione.... end of story.
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George Weasley x Luna Lovegood

A Robin Noticed my Condition</u>

Skipping was a wonderful thing. Luna Lovegood had been skipping all day. She had skipped up and down the corridors until Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, had yelled so hard that the little veins on his face had turned purple with his exertion. She had skipped around the Ravenclaw homeroom until her rope had knocked a bottle of ink onto the floor and Padma Patil had ordered her out. She had skipped round the courtyard, and up one walk and down another, smiling at the crack of the rope as it snapped against the cobblestones, until some boys from Syltherin began to pelt her with little stones and pebbles, and commanded that she skip elsewhere.

So Luna turned towards the lake with her skipping rope and skipped across the grass towards it. The sun was shining brightly and she marvelled at all the pretty reflected lights dancing on the water. A gentle, warm wind was blowing and as it gusted through the trees and long grasses, it brought with it the fresh scent of turned earth and trees.

It was a purely summer smell, Luna thought distantly, that should make one feel entirely content and happy. But she did not feel happy today. From the moment she had woken up that morning, Luna had felt entirely, unquestionably and inexplicably sad.

A robin was hopping about on a low branch, singing brightly. His little red breast puffed up with pride as he sang his summer song. Luna stopped to listen for a minute and when he had finished his song she smiled and applauded, and told him what a pretty voice he had, and that if she could sing as well as he, she would never stop singing at all. The robin lifted his head and looked at her curiously, then bobbed his head as if modestly accepting her compliment.

Luna then bade him farewell and skipped away. The robin’s song had lifted her spirits, but there was still a heaviness in her chest that she could not fathom. Luna had considered a number of things – perhaps she was under a Kelpie’s curse, or maybe that fearful wailing she had heard from the Hospital Wing the previous night, had actually been the cry of a Banshee. Her father had told her that those who heard the mournful cries were later overcome by a grief, for it signified that someone close to the hearer was about to die. But Luna did not feel that she was suffering from either of these.

At length she skipped away from the lake and into a sparsely wooded area, pierced by broad rays of golden sunshine, and came at last to the stone Toadstool situated at the centre of a little clearing. She was hot and breathless now, and felt she deserved a rest, and so sat upon the Toadstool’s broad base. The clearing was covered in long, reaching branches of ivy, which curled around the trees and over the Toadstool. Luna was pondering on how long it would take for the ivy to curl up to her when the robin appeared again. He had followed her and he greeted her with a chirp from his tree branch.

“Hello, Robin,” said Luna. “Is your afternoon well?”

The robin bobbed on his branch then lifted his head to sing a few sweet notes.

“You’re showing off,” stated Luna, vaguely. “But I don’t mind at all. Nobody often feels the need to show off in front of me. It’s quite nice.” She picked up her skipping rope. “Now I will show off to you.” And Luna began to skip again, round and round the Toadstool, counting each skip until her cheeks turned red, but when she grew so tired that she thought she might have to stop, the robin began to sing for her and his song gave her a great boost of energy that made her want to skip just for him, and keep skipping until her legs turned to jelly.

When at last they both grew too tired, they sat together for a time, enjoying the sun and the light wind through the trees. The robin had moved to a branch nearer the Toadstool now, and was making a great show of grooming his weathers. Luna had to marvel at his brazen character. She remembered how her mother once told her that robins held a special kind of magic of their own which allowed them a marvellous understanding of all Muggles and magic folk.

Luna peered closer at the robin and wondered if he, being so full of knowing, could explain her condition.

So she asked him, “Robin, my heart is sad, but my soul is happy. Can you tell me my condition?”

The robin flew from his swinging branch, circled the clearing once, then came to land on the Toadstool beside her and sang a loud, sweet trill, his little red breast quivering. Luna reached two pale fingers out to touch the red feathers there. The colour reminded her of the two Weasley twins who lived outside Ottery St. Catchpole. Luna had often seen the twins playing around the forests and in the fields close to her home. She had loved listening to their laughter. They had always appeared so carefully balanced in their actions - the more brazen twin always leading the way and his brother, alert to everything, watching his back. Luna had always admired the second. His name was George, she thought carefully, and his smile was always softer.

The robin hopped onto Luna’s outstretched hand and watched her for a moment before tilting his head, as if to say ‘follow me’, and promptly flew off.

Luna watched the spot where he had disappeared into the trees before picking up her skipping rope and following him down the path back to the lake.

A familiar burst of laughter erupted from a little ways up the path close to the banks, and as Luna turned the corner she saw the Weasley twins playing by the water. George was skipping stones across the glittering surface of the lake while his brother fought to reclaim his balance upon the branch of a tree. Luna stopped to watch them and thought how very like the robin they both were with their constant showing off, and thought them quite sweet because of it.

A gust of wind rushed along the water towards the bank, stronger than the last. It moved through the trees and shook its branches, and caused the twin amongst them to finally lose his balance and fall into the water with a great splash. George, looking terrified, wasted no time in wading into the deep water, but his brother emerged almost as quickly as he had fallen in, spluttering and laughing. Relief flitted across George’s face before he dunked his twin’s head under the water again.

Now there was a new symptom to Luna’s condition. While the strange weight in her chest had not lifted, her head felt dizzy and light, too. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it wasn’t altogether good; a bit like the feeling you got in your stomach if you went zooming down a sharp incline on the back of a broomstick. The robin plopped himself on a branch beside her and began to sing his song again, but she could not take her eyes from the boy in the water.

“Ah,” said Luna at length. “So that is my condition.”

And as she skipped past the twins, Luna wondered if George would notice her. She really wanted him to see her skip.

Story Summary:
Luna is sad, but she doesn't know why. So she asks a passing robin of her condition.

Based on “A Rabbit Noticed My Condition” by St. John of the Cross.

Dedicated to :icontigger180: after seeing her lovely GeorgexLuna fanart which I urge you all to view: [link]

Next Chapter: [link]

A/N: I loved writing this. I was just wandering through the woods at Rosell Park today and my aunt made a comment about the robins who have begun singing their autumn song when the idea popped into my head, and I had to write it down. I've always loved the pairing of George x Luna, it seems to work perfectly somehow (well, I mean they're both a bit mad, aren't they?). Hope you enjoyed it. I may do another chapter from George's POV set after Hogwarts, but for now this stays a one-shot.
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It's a fact of life. Freedom doesn't come free. Or cheap. If George even once thought his ear was a high price for freedom, he didn't anymore.

It felt surreal, in the worst possible way... it felt like it wasn't another person that was lying there, but half of himself. "Wake up," he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat as tears trailed down his face, wild and unstoppable.

"Freddie... Freddie..." he murmured, his voice choked and unrecognizeable.

He leaned over his twin, hands fisted in Fred's shirt as if he were silently willing his brother to sit up and say: "Fooled ya!"

No such thing happened...

George felt more than saw his family gathering around. They were all in mourning and they were all trying to comfort each other. If someone laid their hand on George's shoulder, he didn't feel it. All he could feel were his own sobs and his brother's name being repeated over and over. He couldn't tell if he were the one saying it or if it was his family or their friends.

"Freddie..." he said again, voice so quiet that he himself could hardly hear it.

Freedom just isn't free. Anyone who says otherwise has never experienced the price of freedom, has never lost someone in the cause for freedom. George knew, rather well, that Freedom's price was one of the highest prices one would encounter in life, if not the highest.

"George..." Arthur Weasley said quietly, a hand on either of the living twin's shoulders, "We're going to... move him to the Great Hall, now..." he was saying, sounding weary and sad.

George clenched his fists tighter, keeping a firm grip on Fred's shirt. "H-he'll be up any moment now..." he muttered, "We still have to... have to..." he closed his eyes, letting more tears stream down his face. Hadn't he cried them all already? He wondered where the water for all his tears were coming from.

"George... Fred isn't going to wake up..." Molly said carefully, quietly.

George let go of Fred's shirt and stood up shakily, "H-he will," he said, as if trying to assure his mother. "He... has to, you see... w-we have a big party to plan, you see... w-we won, you see..."

Percy and Arthur set to lifting Fred, who still bore that ghost of a laugh on his paling face. George turned away, covering his face with both hands and leaning heavily against the corridor wall. "We were supposed to do everything together..." he said in a whisper.

George couldn't remember the rest of the day. All he knew was that he spent all that morning, all that afternoon, all that evening, and all that night... just trying to wake up, having convinced himself that this was a nightmare. The battle hadn't even begun yet, he kept telling himself.

This was the price of freedom. Frankly... George wanted a refund.
This is for #WeasleyFanClub's 100 Theme Writer's Challenge... thing XD I don't even really know what to call it XD But anyway, I have two themes to write to (I was really inspired... so I claimed the themes, wrote them, and am posting them today XD) They're just drabbles, really, but I like them.

My themes were
27 - Freedom Isn't Free
50 - 50%

Both of which I wrote with Gred and Forge as my main characters XD That's Fred and George to anyone not familiar with my most favorite part of the Harry Potter series aside from the mega-prank-on-Umbridge part XD


This prompt is the Freedom Isn't Free one. For those of you who read my drabble before this, sorry to tell you in the description (I tend to read the story before the description, myself), but this has major Spoilers in it for the seventh book (I haven't seen the 2nd part of Deathly Hallows, but I'm assuming that it has the same basic content as the book XD).

Yeah... so... SPOILERS XD

Marauders Comic Gallery Link: [link]
Normal Comic Gallery Link: [link]

Marauders Comics:
Don't Panic, But... [link]
Oh No... [link]
For Serious? [link]
You Should Know [link]
Serious [link]
Not a Word... [link]
Down a Door [link]
Remus Is A... [link]
Sirius's Logic [link]
Sparkle? [link]
You Sick? [link]
He Who Won't Give Up [link]
Is Gilderoy Serious? [link]
Remus Will Be... [link]
Irony [link]
Nope [link]
Mistletoe Mischief -slash implied- [link]
Christmas Culprits -nonslash- [link]
Ceiling Runner [link]
A Moment [link]
Still Here [link]
This Time [link]

Caught Staring [link]
10 Seconds to Hide [link]
Kittens [link]
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(Pic) May 2nd [link]
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(Fic) The Price of Freedom [link]
(Pic) Lighting Up the Night [link]

Crossover Chronicles:
You Get Used To It [link]

Fullmetal Files:
Are You Proud (Original) [link]
Are You Proud (Redrawn) [link]
Greedy Jerk [link]
When Envy Attacks [link]
Why So Angry? [link]
Like a Sloth [link]
Sorry Lust [link]

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(Batman) Not What Happened [link]
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(Souleater) WTH Is A Kid Doing Here? [link]
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(FFVII) Sephy Has Pwetty Pwetty Hair [link]
(FFVII) Blizzaga Gel [link]
(HP) Happy Valentine's [link]
(YGO) Meeting My Favorite YGO Characters [link]
(YGO) Screw the Rules I Have Magic [link]
(YGO) How Yugi's Hair Became Ridiculous [link]
(YGO) Stealing a Moment [link]
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After walking out of the Twilight movie (an adaptation of a best-selling book that resulted in a cult following of fangirls, teenies and wannabe Mrs. Edward Cullen’s) I was struck with a horrendous and barely comprehendible thought.

Vampires are we know them have ceased to exist.

Gone are the days where supernatural creatures of the night wore long capes, hid fangs, got staked and were deathly scared of a common kitchen ingredient. Goodbye Dracula, you were great while you lasted.

Now they fall in love with teenage girls, act severely bipolar, kill fuzzy little cute animals that are completely innocent, and even sparkle in the sun, just like an ADD kid’s collection of shiny objects.

So, this movie, you may wonder. If it’s based on a book that has girls screaming around the world and boys wanting to rip their own brains out through their nostrils, it must be good, right?


You could not be more wrong.

I seriously cannot stress how completely wrong you are.

This movie sucks more than the vampires themselves.

Let’s start with the basics – the characters. I would have started with the plot of the movie, but that would have meant finding the plot of the book, which I believe is hiding somewhere in Mexico and won’t be appearing anytime soon. So, the characters it is.

Bella. Whiny, retarded kid who really doesn’t think that meeting a vampire is that big a deal. Especially one who thirsted for her blood. Let me repeat an exchange between Bella and Edward that appeared in the movie (I kid you not, this actually happened. At this point, I was covering my face with my hands and banging my head on my friend’s bent knee. But, alas, not even that could kill enough brain cells to make me forget how truly terrible this dialogue was.)

Edward: I’m a vampire.
Bella: I don’t care.
Edward: I kill people.
Bella: It doesn’t matter.
Edward: I wanted to kill you. I wanted your blood.
Bella: I trust you.

Fangirls in cinema: Oh, that is so adorable! He is so hot!
Me: What the freaking hell is wrong with you people?

This guy, one Bella had met practically one week before, had just told her that he wanted her dead and would drink her blood if he was given the chance. He did so while leering at her, something he seems to do for pretty much the entire movie. She dismissed it completely. This raised an extremely important question.

Is she as deaf as she is dumb?

I guess the producers of this movie thought they could get away with it though – seeing as most of the audience weren’t actually paying attention to what was being said, but instead drooled over the other main character of this movie.

Yeah, okay, I hear you. You’re wondering how the hell a movie can have two main characters. You’re saying that it doesn’t even make sense. Well. That’s what I said about the plot. But let’s not bring the plot into this. Hell, the plot has absolutely no part in any of the four books, nor the movie. So let’s just forget about it. I mean, Stephenie Meyer sure did.

Anyway. If we want to talk about stupid things that don’t actually exist, we might as well keep introducing the characters.

The other main character in this movie is Edward Cullen, the clichéd heartthrob who likes to kill animals in his spare time and drink their blood. I hear his favourite meal was Bambi’s mother. Thanks to his super vampire abilities, he can make his leaps bigger than the plot holes in this movie and seriously? That’s really big. He’s seemingly perfect and hates Bella so hard at the start of the movie, if his over-dramatic gasp/nose pinch in Biology is anything to go by. It turns out this hate was mistaken for a crazy desire to rip Bella to shreds and savour her life source, which in turn was mistaken for love. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

He spends a third of the movie hating on Bella, a third loving her, and about six minutes protecting her. Oh, and about a minute playing baseball. The rest of his role is comprised of pouting, glaring, leering and looking all emo whilst wearing eyeliner.

If I wanted to see guys wearing eyeliner and being all moody, I would Google Pete Wentz. At least he looks good while he does it. Plus, he isn’t a creepy albino who’s been dead for a long time and hits on girls too young for him. Hang on, I just lied. What I meant to say was that Pete Wentz isn’t an albino who’s been dead for a long time. There, all better.

Now, Edward has this family. They’re all vampires, and they all mope. Plus, they must communicate via glares and moody stares, maybe even blank expressions, because they hardly spoke at all during the 121 minutes from hell that was the Twilight movie. Edward’s “brother”, Jasper, got about 8 lines in the movie. Yeah, 8 whole lines. Believe me, we counted. Mostly, he looked blank. But that’s okay, because everyone else got what he was saying. Bella, it seems, spoke only through fluttering her eyelashes. It made me wish I had learnt Morse Code, because maybe if I had been able to decipher her fluttering, the movie could have been more interesting with a load more dialogue.

For the record – Jasper may stare blankly, Edward may leer and glare, but Bella? Bella just looks vacant all the time and doesn’t move her face (save her eyelids). In the next book, she is supposed to be catatonic, which means in the next movie, she’ll most likely act comatose.

But that’s okay. If she’s comatose, at least people will be able to pelt her lifeless body with small objects and enjoy themselves. Sadly, no such enjoyment was found in this movie.

There are, of course, humans in this book. Long story short, they’re either boys who love Bella, bitchy girls or Asian. Sometimes, for variety, they’re two out of the three – I’ll let you decide which.

Then there is Bella’s family, comprising of a ditzy mother, a step-father named something irrelevant who plays baseball (it’s the American pastime, Edward believes – like I give a damn what a fictional character thinks about anything) and a father who works as Chief of Police in Spoons or Forks or wherever the hell it was that Bella moved to. Her father’s name is Charlie, and he seems fond of giving Bella Pepper Spray and bottling up his feelings, words and emotions. No, sorry, my mistake. Everyone in this movie bottles up their feelings, words and emotions, not just Charlie. Sorry about that.

Bella only ever used the can of spray once, against one of the evil vampires who actually drank human blood. His name was James and he hunted down Bella for some inexplicable reason, because really. Who the hell would want to spend more time with that idiot of a girl? But anyway, he lured Bella into a ballet studio, was about to eat her (God, I was hoping he would. A life without Bella is a life I would treasure) but then Edward showed up and wham bam he’s dead, and would you look at that? The final fight scene lasted all of three minutes and mostly involved a punch or two. Really. More footage was shown of Bella and Edward sitting in trees than that of Edward fighting the bad guy.

What the hell is up with that?

The timing for the scenes in this movie was really messed up.

Edward and Bella spent so long leaning in for their first kiss that I was considering getting up and grabbing a soda, hoping that when I came back they would at least have their lips brushing. Did anyone else think of this? Or were they considering what else you could do in that vast amount of time, such as swim the English Channel or read The Da Vinci Code?

Now, as I walked out of the cinema, praising the Lord and finally valuing my life, I thought over a few things.

One: Why did Stephenie Meyer let them create that movie? I mean, has she lost the plot? Oh no, wait, she didn’t have a plot in the first place. My mistake.

Two: The tagline for the movie – if you can live forever, what do you live for? Well, to answer your question, I would live for the day that movies like the one I had just experienced would never be allowed to see sunlight. Or, I would spend my time wisely, hunting down each and every copy of the film and destroying it in a massive bonfire.

Three: Why the hell did Stephenie Meyer cameo in a movie of a book that she wrote? Just. Just no, okay? There’s no need to be a self-whorer, okay?

Four: One of the good things about being immortal would include being able to sit down in the cinema, watch Twilight and then walk out without lamenting about the 121 minutes of life that you would never, ever get back.

Five: Why did Edward keep approaching Bella, telling her that they shouldn’t be friends? If you don’t want to be friends with her, whether it’s because it’s dangerous, or because you just don’t want to, stop approaching her. Dumbass.

Six: Jacob’s a creeper, and whenever his face was on screen, two-thirds of the picture was taken up by his nose alone. Same with Bella and her front teeth.

Seven: Edward likes Bella because he can’t hear her thoughts, and that intrigues him – all he gets from her mind is silence. The thing is, maybe he can read her mind, but Bella just doesn’t think at all. Hey - it makes sense to me.

All in all, I found it to be a terrible movie. If you want to waste your life seeing a total asshole with supernatural abilities fall in love with a Mary-Sue and then have them look blankly at each other for the majority of the time they are on camera, be my guest and go see Twilight. It won’t let you down.
a review of the twilight movie by a friend. if you like twilight, don't read. simple enough.

she raises valid points.
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‘And as they looked, they saw a tall rider coming towards them, to the fens where Godric fell slaying the spindle-queen, Gudrun. The rider greeted the brothers three at the lip of the water’s edge and warned them not to cross the river terrible, for crossing it would bring only death. The brothers bowed graciously, thanked him for his counsel, then raised their wands so that a bridge of glass strung on a hair was cast across the raging waters.

‘Again the rider came, now fleshless, with shroud and pall bedight. “A blood toll must be paid, clever sons of tricks,” said Death to the brothers three. “Now play thy game.”

And they played.’

– From ‘The World Tree’s Plunderer’ (translated from the Scrolls of Merlin, first edition, by Sir Hector Archimedes Oddness)


Hells’ Bells


“Beautiful wedding, but blast and botheration, Arthur!” Edward cried out in frustration. “You never mentioned that the old bat would be here. If I’d known I would have had Philius put some sort of anti-Aunt charm on my dear fat self.”

Arthur smiled placidly at his old friend and handed him another drink. Edward Balthazar McRozen was a portly, eccentric, exuberant Squib, whose girth was as large as his heart. He was always impeccably dressed in a maroon waistcoat and lace under-shirt, and a gold engraved pocket-watch dangled precariously from his left pocket. His jacket had one brass button left (the others appeared to have popped off due to the intense strain) and his neck collar brandished a brightly spotted bow-tie. Tonight Edward must have decided to add something extra special to his outfit, in honour of the grand occasion, for a large, purple pork-pie hat currently sat at a jaunty angle on top of his head of fluffy greying hair.

“I’m afraid I had no choice in the matter, Ed,” Arthur laughed. “I could no less hide a wedding from Muriel than I could a box of Zonko’s tricks from my twins.”

Edward grinned. “Oh yes, Fred and George! How are the lads? Last time I saw them their heads were level with my gut – bit smaller back then, mind,” Edward said, patting his protruding stomach. “Do they take after you, ay, old bean-post?”

“No, they take after Molly more, I think,” Arthur grinned and bumped Edward’s glass with his own. “At least in height. They take after me in the tricks department.”

“Of course, of course, I keep hearing about this marvellous shop of theirs’: Weasley’s Wizarding Whistles or something to the like,” Edward bellowed with laughter. “Splendid place! Splendid! Put that antiques shop across from them in a right tizzy – I hear they’ve been complaining because of all the noise the kiddies are making. And the other day old Abner Tocks was telling me how a firecracker burst across the street and into his shop – broke every clock-face in the place! Marvellous!!”

Edward of course heard every last detail of the goings on in Diagon Alley as he was rarely out of the Leaky Cauldron, and therefore always in the thick of the gossip. He liked to think of the famous pub as his second home and Tom, the bartender, as something akin to family.

“Is that so?” said Arthur, arching his eyebrows high and smirking ever-so-slightly. “You’d better keep that from Molly. She’ll go off her rocker if she hears the twins are wreaking even more havoc. You know, she did everything she could to prevent Fred and George from opening that shop. I think she might have preferred them to become lawyers or something of the like.”

“Poppycock! Fred and George, lawyers? Shameful!” Edward shook his head vehemently. “They were always meant for greater things.” He leaned forwards, his bright twinkling eyes suddenly dark and serious, and said in a hushed, secretive tone, “Times are getting darker again, Arthur. I don’t have to be a wizard to feel it in my bones. Things are going to explode very soon and believe you me, when it happens, we’ll need something to laugh about.”

Arthur nodded his balding red head gravely. “I think you might be right about that, Ed.”

The old friends shared a meaningful look.

“Well, dash it all, tonight is not a night for discussing silly social affairs and the devil’s plights. Tonight is a night for true love,” Edwards shouted, raising his glass of Firewhiskey high to the crowd, many of which laughed and cheered in reply, and began chanting the newly wedded couple’s names.

Bill and Fleur were in the centre of the dance floor, swaying steadily to the golden-jacketed band on the podium; a smooth jazzy tune was playing in harmony to the hazy sunlit countryside around the Burrow. Groups of old friends and relatives were chatting all around the golden canopy, or dancing around the raised floor.

Arthur watched the peaceful scene and heaved a heavy sigh, his smile fading from his face. “I don’t know, Edward. At the rate things are going I sometimes wonder if this won’t be the last time we’ll be together like this for a long while.” He shook his head and raised sad, almost pleading eyes to his friend. “I don’t think Molly could go through another war. What it did to her last time… I don’t think she could go through that again. I know I couldn’t.”

Edward gripped his shoulder firmly and said, with a fixed, unwavering gaze, “Buck up, old boy. You won’t lose any of them. Not a single one; I promise you.” Arthur looked hopelessly at him, but Edward was obstinate as ever. He wrinkled his thick, handle-bar moustache and smiled broadly. “Now, look at that Luna Lovegood dancing all by herself! That girl is quite the charm, isn’t she? Philius raised her well – old cracker that he is. You hear that Philius?!” Edward suddenly bellowed across the dance floor to an absurd looking man in omelette coloured dress robes.

Xenophilius Lovegood turned abruptly and waved happily back at them, flapping his hand up and down as if preparing to take flight. “Hello there, Edward! Can’t quite hear you I’m afraid!”

“I said you’re barking, Philius – absolutely bonkers!” Edward called back, sloshing the contents of his glass.

“Quite! Quite! I look forward to it!” Xenophilius replied then resumed his conversation with a couple of rather frightened looking witches.

“Blasted idiot gets worse every year,” said Edward, shaking his head, “but an undiscovered genius, if I do say so myself – and our very dearest friend.”

Arthur nodded, chortling. “Definitely. I do miss the old days. Feels like centuries ago these days.”

Edward shot him a sharp look. “Don’t say old days as if we were ancient, decrepit old things like Muriel. Oh I say, there’s your lads now! Fred, George, come over here you wonderful fools!”

Two flame-haired, freckle-faced identical men pulled reluctantly away from their dancing partners – a pair of slender Veela girls in matching silver dresses – and strode towards the edge of the dance floor where their father and Edward were standing.

“Hello, Uncle Ed. Nice hat,” Fred remarked with a cheeky sort of grin.

“Ah, well you must be Fred. I always remember George as being the more innocent – at least as innocent as a jester of Merlin’s court!”

“Innocent?” Fred’s eyes bulged.

“Me?” asked George, arching his eyebrows high.

“Well, well,” Fred shrugged. “Learn something new every day.”

“Certainly news,” George turned to his twin with a leer. “Always did suspect you were a dirty rotten scoundrel, mind. I daresay you’ve been leading me astray all these years!” He said, placing the back of his hand to his forehead in a dramatic gesture.

Fred cracked his knuckles and grinned menacingly. “Well someone had to teach you Georgie, otherwise we’d have had another blooming prefect or a hero in the family.”

George looked horrified at the very idea. “I don’t think I could stomach another one of those.”

Chortling, Edward grabbed four more bottles of Firewhiskey from a passing waiter and thrust one each into Fred’, George’ and Arthur’s hands.

“I was just telling your father that the last time I saw you two, you were only up to here on me,” Edward told them, raising his hand so that it was just level with the remaining brass button on his dress robes.

Fred cracked another smirk and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’d be the first time we’ve heard that tonight, Uncle Ed.”

Edward roared with laughter. “Your neck might’ve grown, but I see you’re still a cheeky little bugger! Molly’s been writing to me about your antics for years, you know. The stories just kept getting better and better – ‘specially that one about nasty old toad-face, Umbridge, though I don’t expect I was meant to laugh at it.”

“I thought you were up living in Glasgow,” said George curiously. “You still get owls living out in the Muggle world, then?”

Edward gripped one of his lapels in his free hand and nodded, an air of severe pride around him. “Yes, I might be a Squib but I still like to keep one foot firmly in the wizarding world! Besides, who would buy any of my books out in that old fuddy duddy Muggle-land?”

“I’ve read a few – blooming marvellous stuff! Helped us out a few times in the lab, I can tell you that,” Fred told him keenly. “I don’t know how you do it, but you probably saved my arse a few times, and I do mean literally.”

George let out a loud snort. “Don’t be daft Fred, you don’t read.”

“True,” Fred conceded with a casual wave of his hand at his twin, “but I get the gist of the books from you, so it’s all the same thing in the end.”

Edward heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s a great pity that I haven’t seen you boys in so long.” He elbowed Fred in the ribs with one rather plump arm and leaned towards him in a conspiratorial whisper, “I have a daughter, you know; she’s roughly the same age as you, and single too!”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh long and heartily. He was already a good quarter of the way through his current bottle of Firewhiskey and was shaking it vigorously along with his head. “Don’t bother, Ed – Fred and George have managed more snogging action in the last month than the two of us have ever equalised in our whole lifetimes.”

“Oi!” said the twins in unison, both of them looking thoroughly and equally disgusted that their father had used the word ‘snog’.

“Ah, the devil take you, lads!” Edward cried, his eyes twinkling brightly as he turned his bottle on each of them in turn. “Find a good woman each and the world is your oyster, for each honest man knows that the heart of a good woman is his backbone!”

Fred and George gave him an uneasy sort of smile. “Right you are, Uncle Ed.”

“And - ah! Speaking of fine young women, there’s one as we speak – lovely Luna, yes, you my dear! Come over here. Come and speak to these fantabulous boys. Do you know each other? You do? Marvellous! Then you must dance with one.”

Luna Lovegood had been twirling on the dance floor for the past half hour entirely by herself, having lost her last dance partner, Ginny Weasley, to a bright-eyed, grinning boy with dreadlocks who she suspected might have been a friend of the Weasley twins. She floated towards the quartet standing on the edge of the dance floor, smiling vaguely. Her bright yellow dress matched her long, dirty blonde hair, in which was planted the head of a sunflower, and as she moved, the flounces of her dress and hair trailed dreamily along after her.

“Hello, Arthur, Uncle Edward,” said Luna happily and pressed her hand first into the Squib’s large palm and then took Arthur’s offered hand with a little squeeze. “It’s a beautiful evening here – I do love the music. I’ve been dancing for hours, though I had a little trouble with Wrackspurts earlier – they do tend to converge, you know, at this time of year.”

“You’re a wonderful dancer, Luna. We enjoyed watching your performance,” said Arthur kindly, shooting a warning glance at the twins who were taking large gulps of Firewhiskey in an attempt to quell their laughter.

“Thank you, I must show you the mating dance of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack next; daddy saw it once when he was abroad and demonstrated it for me. It’s very fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is, Luna,” said Arthur, raising his voice an octave to draw attention away from Fred, whose last mouthful of Firewhiskey was shooting out through his nose.

Edward raised his arms wide and smiled broadly at George. “Well, Luna, I think I’ve found you a suitable dance partner.” He put his free hand against George’s back and whispered briefly in his ear, “A good man never leaves a woman lonely on a dance floor.” Edward gave him what he thought was a gentle push towards Luna, who was looking quite innocent and bemused. “Off you go the pair of you – go dance the dance of the Rumpleskinned Spitting-Cat, or however it is you young folk dance these days.”

George threw a quick, desperate look across his shoulder at Fred, who crossed his heart then saluted gravely, and muttered, “Don’t worry George, I’m sure I’ll manage to keep the Veela cousins well entertained until you get back. Course, with the language barrier and everything, I doubt we’ll have a lot to talk about.” He grinned wickedly and George mouthed a few choice swear words at him before leading Luna into the middle of the dance floor.

“Oh good,” said Fred looking delighted. “A slow song too. They’ll have to get real close for this one. So, Uncle Ed,” he said, turning back to him, “where is your daughter… er…?”

“Gertrude,” Arthur finished for him.

“Oh good Merlin, Arthur! Don’t ever let her catch you calling her that – she point-blank refuses to go by anything other than her middle-name, Nox.”

“Don’t blame her,” Fred muttered under his breath.

Edward was suddenly smiling very fondly and clutching his near-empty bottle to his chest. “Knows her own mind, my girl, and won’t let no one have it. Course, I thought it better to keep her apart from all the wizarding world because… Well, let’s just leave it at that, shall we.”

“It’s been years since I’ve seen her, Edward,” said Arthur thoughtfully. “In fact I don’t think I’ve seen her since that incident at Portobello Road, do you remember?”

Edward suddenly paled.

“Oh yeah,” said Fred, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully, “I remember that day. Bloody horrible. Didn’t that little Muggle girl get knocked down by a bus? I remember you wrapping her up in your cloak and dad telling us not to look.” Fred paused for a moment, as if trying to recall a long-distant memory, then suddenly, he clicked his fingers, looking satisfied with himself. “That’s right; me and George were left with –”

“Fred, I do believe that’s those lovely Veela girls you were dancing with!” Edward interrupted hurriedly, dabbing his neck with handkerchief. “Look here, they’re coming this way. Go on, never leave a woman waiting and all that. Truly wonderful catching up, Frederick.” He patted him tenderly on the shoulder. “Take care, son.”

Fred looked bemused, but smiled nonetheless. “You too, Uncle Ed.”

Edward watched the second Weasley twin disappear into the crowd with a beautiful, silver-haired Veela girl on each arm. His brow furrowed in concern.

“Ed? Ed?Edward?” Arthur pressed worriedly – it took a moment for Edward to notice the hand on his arm. “Everything alright? You’re sweating a bit.”

Edward shook him off with a smile and said, “What, this? No, Arthur. This is what happens to a fat man wearing dress robes in high summer. Come on, let’s join the rest of the scoundrels and scallywags, shall we?”

The last rays of the sun disappeared around half past ten, and night settled in on the wedding party. The lanterns were lit and the moths and midges were fluttering excitedly in the golden glow. Fred and George had sneaked off with a couple of Fleur's Veela cousins in hand to a secluded willow tree in the neighbouring field, much to Molly’s displeasure.

“This is hardly the kind of impression I wanted to give the Delacours,” Molly huffed despite the pinkness in her cheeks from all the sparkling champagne (imported specially from Paris by Fleur’s parents). “I don’t know what they’ll think of us now.”

“They’re young, Molly – let the boys have their fun,” Arthur said, patting her hand gently then pulling her onto the empty dance floor on a sudden whim. Molly resisted only a fraction of a second then, surrendering, she slid happily into Arthur’s open arms, and they rocked together slowly on the floor. The band were currently sitting by the table laid with Butterbeers, cakes and Firewhiskey, having certainly earned a break, and the only music came from the intoxicated trio of Hagrid, Charlie and Edward, whose loud and energetic rendition of ‘Odo the Hero’ had a delighted Luna clapping along:

‘And Odo the hero, they bore him back home
To the place that he'd known as a lad!
They laid him to rest with his hat inside out
And his wand snapped in two, which was sad!’

A few people were pulling up their friends and partners onto the dance floor, jigging along to the lively, bellowed tune, until eventually the entire wedding party were jumping and clapping and singing along. When the silver cloudy shape fell through the canopy to land on the floor amidst the dancers, few people really understood what it meant until well after it had raised its feline head and said:

‘The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.’

At first there was silence, thick and daunting, and leaden with confusion as guests turned to one another with questioning faces, seeking an answer or an explanation to the peculiar prank that had just been played – for surely it had to be a joke. Surely they weren’t coming. Everyone knew who they were, and that simply was not possible.

A scream shattered the silence like a broken mirror and people suddenly scattered everywhere like shards of glass, running blindly and Apparating everywhere.

“The enchantments ‘round the Burrow must be broken,” said Charlie urgently, leaping to his feet.

“Bleedin’ ‘ell!” Hagrid was shouting, red faced and looking very close to tears. “Not now! Not ‘ere, they can’t be!”

“They are,” said Edward grimly. “Come on old friend, it won’t do hanging about here. We must get everyone to safety!”

Charlie nodded his head fiercely. “Right you are, come on Luna!” He grabbed Luna by the wrist and began leading her through the jostling crowd, but Luna was shaking her head, an uncharacteristic fiery look in her usually misty, distant eyes.

“Wait! I have to find daddy first,” she said and slipped out of Charlie’s grasp. Charlie tried to weave his way after her, but was pushed back by an increasingly panicked crowd. Screams and cries of terror suddenly escalated as masked figure after masked figure Disapparated into the area. Some of the guests were violent in their panicked state, shoving and, in some cases, propelling their way through the crowd. Luna ignored Charlie’s frantic cries behind her, caught sight of her father on the opposite end of the dance floor. She was reaching her arm out in a vain effort to catch his attention when a large hand wrapped its fingers around her throat and flung her ruthlessly to the floor. Luna’s head hit the platform with a crack and when her vision swam back into view, she saw a tall, black-cloaked figure rising over her, wand pointed at her throat.

“Protego!” a familiar cry echoed above her, blasting her masked attacker off his feet. In another instant, George was in front of Luna, scooping her into his arms and darting to the band stand where Xenophilius stood with Edward, looking frantic and terribly vexed.

“Thank you, dear boy! A thousand times, thank you!” Xenophilius spluttered, taking Luna gratefully from George’s arms.

“Don’t mention it,” said George hastily. “Just get out of here now. You’ll have to take Edward with you.”

“Balderdash! I’m not leaving this spot without seeing off at least one Death – ” but the portly Squib did not have another second to finish his retort because George had shoved him roughly into Xenophilius, who Disapparated a moment later with a crack!

An instant later they were standing in a quiet, dark lane off Buchanan Street, Glasgow. Despite the late hour, the street was teaming with people young and old, striding up and down the brightly lit sloping hill. Glasgow was a city that never slept.

Xenophilius turned to Edward and said in a panicked, wild voice, “I’m afraid this is the only place in Glasgow I know. Will you be alright getting home from here?” His breathing was erratic and he kept looking wildly at the blood matting the back of Luna’s hair. His eyes began to fill with tears at the sight.

Edward nodded slowly, feeling quite unable to take everything in. “This is fine, Philius, just fine. We can take a taxi home from here.”

“We?” Xenophilius shook his head fervently. “Oh no, we have to get home. Luna must –”

“- Must be taken to a safe place,” Edward answered him. “And I’m fairly certain, old friend, that anywhere in Ottery St Catchpole is far from that, tonight.” He watched with a sympathetic eye as Xenophilius instinctively clutched Luna closer to his chest. Edward gripped his arm and led him onto the bustling walkway of Buchanan Street. “Come along, it’s the least this old Squib can do. For now, at least.”

Also posted here: [link]

This story works as a prequel to my other fanfic, Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives, and sheds some light on the characters of the Grim Reaper, Caithion Sidhe, Fred’s love-interest, Nox Wolfe, and her father, Edward Balthazar McRozen. I’m also working on just how Luna's feelings for George Weasley developed and what the twins were up to throughout the year leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts. Hope you enjoy! :D
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It never mattered what I said
Nor did it matter what I did
Just as long as I fit the Description
I was forced to play the bad girl

Look at me and all my good deeds
Everything done for a noble cause
Never once did I aim to please
I only did what was truly right

Who are you not to see my soul
But then again donít even look
Nothing said will change your mind
About if there is evil in my heart

My ways are not what you follow
Never your bright and cheery means
By my methods I can say are honest
Unlike yours which aim to please
I was thinking about the way people judge and the like. More or less, the inspiration to this poem came from my heroin, Elphaba, from Wicked. If you ever read the book or saw the play, you'll get it.
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Hermione stirred slightly, and tried to open her eyes – nothing. She raised her hand to the blindfold covering her face and then remembered.

“Hermione?” a familiar voice said.


“Hermione, you’re awake! Hey guys, she’s awake!”

She heard sudden footsteps coming closer to the bed and felt a couple of people sitting down on the covers.

“How do you feel?” Ron asked as a hand, presumably his, lightly swept some hair off her face.

“Umm, better, I think,” she replied, pushing herself up into a sitting position and feeling a little disoriented. “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday, you’ve been asleep a whole day,” Harry said. Sunday – she and Draco had their detention in the forest on Friday night. “What happened, Hermione?”

“Yeah, Malfoy was a little vague on the details,” George put in.

Hermione tried to remember what had happened, but after jumping on the back of Draco’s broom the memories were just a hazy blur of pain. “What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t, actually,” Fred said. “He just burst into the common room -”

“Covered in your blood,” Ginny chimed in.

“Brandishing two wands and started shouting about how you were dying,” Fred finished.   

Harry chuckled. “Ron was about ready to curse him into oblivion. We all thought he had done something terrible to you.”

“It was all very dramatic,” George said cheerfully. “If we hadn’t all been so worried, it would have been very entertaining.”

“Well I’m glad to know that my potential death amuses you,” Hermione said dryly, and they all laughed.

“Is she awake?” she heard the voice of Madame Pomfrey ask, her bustling footsteps coming closer. “Excuse me please, boys.” There was a slight shuffling, and then she felt someone taking her pulse.    

“I was bitten, wasn’t I?” Hermione asked the matron. “Is that why I can’t see?”

“Yes, it’s an effect of the venom,” she answered. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.

Hermione nodded to herself, she remembered reading about the blinding affects of the Acromantula’s venom.

“How did I get up here?” She wondered out loud. She and Draco had been in the middle of the forest, miles from the castle, yet spider’s venom would have been so fast acting that she should only have had minutes to live.  

“Young Mr Malfoy came banging in here with you cradled in his arms, shouting that he needed help” the matron said noncommittally as she checked the bandage on her shoulder, not realising the effect her words were having on Hermione. “He was seemed very shaken up and was extremely reluctant to leave your side. Professor Snape had to practically force him from the room to fetch Professor McGonagall.”

“That doesn’t sound like Malfoy at all,” Ron said. Hermione could tell from his voice that he was frowning.

“He saved my life,” she whispered to herself, slightly awed. She could remember him shouting for her to get behind him as the spiders approached, the panic in his voice when she had been hurt and the way he had picked her up, the strong heartbeat in her chest that had been her lifeline in the darkness. He must have carried her all the way from the forest, she realised.

“Why though?” Harry asked, sounding perplexed. “I mean, he’s a Slytherin.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not -” She broke off and bit he lip, wondering how she could explain her newfound empathy for Draco. She had always sympathised with Harry for living with the Dursley’s, but now she realised Draco’s upbringing had been far worse.

She remembered the way his eyes had blazed as he had told her of the horrors in his childhood. She had been shocked and confused, able to make the connection from that poor abused child to the arrogant young man in front of her far to easily, and hating the sudden rush of sympathy she had for her enemy. She had said he was just like his father, but his father would never have carried her broken body in his arms or stayed by her bedside.

“Not what, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“Nothing,” she sighed. She wanted to tell them this new opinion of Draco, but knew it was not her place to tell another persons secrets. They wouldn’t believe her anyway.

There was a slight pause.

“Your parents are coming up, they should be here tomorrow,” George told her.

“Really?” Her parents had always wanted to see Hogwarts. She smiled to herself, imagining showing them the moving portraits and shifting staircases.

“Yep,” Fred replied. “But we better go, Hermione, or we won’t be getting any dinner,”

“That’s fine, I’m probably going to go back to sleep anyway.”

“We’ll come back and visit at break tomorrow,” Ron promised.

“Here, wait a moment. I almost forgot, we bought this down for you too,” Harry said, and a book was pressed into her hands. She ran her fingers over the familiar cover, feeling her smile widen. Her friends knew her so well.

“It was Ron’s idea,” Ginny told her. “Even though you can’t read it yet, he said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without Hogwarts: A History by your bed.”

“Besides, you know it so well you could probably just open it to any page and be able to read it by heart,” Ron said sounding both pleased and a little embarrassed.

“Thanks guys,” she said, letting all her love and affection for her friends show in her voice. “Will you put it on the bedside table for me?”

The book was lifted from her hands and she heard a muted thud as it was put down. She frowned, suddenly remembering something that was missing. “Is my wand there, by any chance?”

There was another pause, and she heard objects on her bedside table being moved around as one of them searched.

“Its not here,” Ginny said.

“Malfoy had it,” Ron said slowly. “When he came in the common room.”

“You think he’s still got it?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. But if we see him at dinner, we will get it off him for you, okay Hermione?”

“Okay, and thanks guys.”

“No problem,” Ron said.

There was a chorus of goodbyes and Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed by a series of hair ruffles, hugs and a kisses on her cheek. And then they were gone.

She leant back against her pillow and sighed. Everything had been so much easier when she had seen the world in black and white, but it now turned out that Draco was a highly infuriating and incomprehensible shade of grey. She could no longer place him with the Slytherins or see him as a future Death Eater, following in his fathers footsteps, but nor could she imagine him fighting alongside them or joining the Order as she planned to do the moment she graduated.

She thought about the way he had kissed her in the Prefect Bathroom, and then the way he had pinned her against the tree in the forest with a hand wrapped around her neck. She should have been terrified, since she had been wandless and restrained by an angry Slytherin she had just been tormenting, yet all she had been able to think about was the heat that had emanated from his body as it had pressed completely up against hers.

The door of the hospital wing opened and she heard soft footsteps coming down the ward. She tilted her head towards the sound. “Who’s there?”

Whoever it was gradually approached her bed, and she felt the person sit down on the covers next to her.

Lips suddenly brushed against her own, startling her. He kissed her softly for a moment, and then sighed. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, leaving her incapable of speech.

He pressed her wand into her hand and then stood up before starting to walk away.


The footsteps paused.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she murmured.

“Don’t mention it, Granger,” he replied, though he sounded tired.

“Do you want to stay a while?” she asked nervously fiddling with her wand, not sure how he would respond.

“Would you like me too?” He sounded a little shocked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask such a thing.

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“Then I’ll stay.” She felt him sit back down on the covers. “What have you got there?”


Hogwarts: A History.” She could hear him riffling through the book.

“Oh, Harry bought it down from the common room for me.”

“Why?” Draco asked, sounding sceptical. “It’s not like you can read it.”

“No, but I like having it there.” She laughed to herself, remembering all the times Harry and Ron had teased her about her love of the book. “I practically know it off by heart. I’m rereading it for about the hundredth time.”

“Where abouts are you?”

“The forth part. The purging of the trolls from the forest – though clearly they forgot about the spiders.”

Draco laughed and flicked a few of the pages before starting to read aloud to her. Hermione burrowed deeper under the covers as she listened to him talk. He wasn’t drawling his words as he normally did, and she noticed for the first time just how appealing his voice was when he wasn’t being nasty or boastful.

He had just got to the ghost revolution when Madame Pomfrey’s footsteps came towards them again.

“Five minutes Mr Malfoy, visiting hours are almost over.”

“Alright,” he said, closing the book.

“You should be able to read the book again for yourself Miss Granger, I believe the blindfold can come off tomorrow,” Madame Pomfrey told her as she fluffed her pillows.

“Good,” Hermione sighed. Draco’s lulling voice had made her sleepy.

Madame Pomfrey stopped her fussing. “Mr Malfoy, you should really let me heal that for you.”

“No, it’s not necessary,” he said.

“Here, I  insist – Episkey!”

“Oh, well thanks.”

“What was it?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Spilt lip,” Draco replied.


“You did it Miss Granger,” Madame Pomfrey said as she straightened the covers.

“I did?”

“Yes, when you were convulsing due to the poison. Mr Malfoy was trying to restrain you.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“Remember Mr Malfoy, five minutes.” The matrons’ footsteps receded down the ward as she left, leaving them in silence for a long moment.

“Draco, what really happened last night?” she said eventually.

“How much do you remember?” he asked softly. He took her hand and started playing with her fingers.

“Not much. The last thing I remember clearly is getting on the back of your broom.”

He sighed unhappily. “A spider jumped on your back,” was all he said.

“And?” she prompted.

He was quiet for a long moment, and then she heard him swallow nervously. “I killed it.”

“How?” she asked, shocked. “None of the spells were working …”

There was a long silence. She could feel him still sitting on the bed, though he was stiff and unmoving. His hand was curled into a fist in hers.

“Draco?” she said timidly, stroking the back of his hand.

“I used Avada Kedavra,” he whispered, sounding horrified at himself. Then he continued, his words coming quicker than normal. “I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t even thinking. It just came out.”

Hermione was stunned, unable to speak at first. He had used an Unforgivable Curse, yet he had done it to save her life.

“And then?”

Draco sucked in a shocked breath. He must have thought she would be appalled and frightened by his actions. His hand loosened in hers, and his fingers wandered in an aimless trail over her palm as he told her the rest of the story in a low voice.

“You stayed with me?” she breathed, as he finished the story.

“Of course,” he said simply.

He had risked his life to save her, and then stayed by her side – her, a mudblood and a Gryffindor. He really was not the person she had thought he was.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered to him.

He released her hand and she felt cool fingers just under the edge of her jaw, tilting her face upward.

She heard the door at he far end of the ward open, and his hands dropped from her face.

“You’ve had nearly ten minutes, Miss Granger needs rest,” Madame Pomfrey called.

Draco sighed, and lightly kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured, before she heard his footsteps heading out of the hospital wing.
Draco and Hermione - Part 9

This part was really difficult to write because Hermione cant actually see anything, so descriptions were really hard, i had to go on sounds and feelings!

In this part Hermione is starting to accept her feelings for Draco - meaning that the proper *cough* romance in their relationship is on its way. ;)

characters belong to J K Rowling

Comments welcome, hope you like it people!

Link to previous part, part 8 - [link]

link to next part, part 10 - to mingle with muggles
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