George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 25: Storm

August 1 - 2, 1997

Five days later, at precisely five a.m., Annie awoke to tiny stones tapping themselves repeatedly at her window. She pulled on some clothes and crept out the back door. Thank goodness Gran is still asleep, she thought.

Just outside the door she saw it was Fred who was waiting for her. Immediately, she panicked. "What's wrong?" she hissed as she dashed down the back steps.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Earless Wonder is fine. He's milking this injured hero business to the hilt. It's making me sick, actually." He rolled his eyes.

Annie was relieved, but irritated as well. She was tired, not to mention anxious about her Gran waking up and discovering them at the crack of dawn. "Then why are you here?"

"Secret mission," Fred whispered excitedly. "Mum is keeping her ickle Georgie under lock and key, so I'm the lucky bloke who gets to drag your charming mug out of bed at this ungodly hour." Fred went on to explain that he needed to get a red hair from some fellow in town so Harry Potter could pretend to be this person during the wedding.

"So, I figure, who better to help me out than Annie?" Fred winked and turned on his most winsome grin.

Annie snorted derisively, but couldn't help giggling as well. Didn't exactly make any sense, Annie reckoned, but whatever did these days? She tossed him the keys and the two of them clambered into the truck.

She knew exactly who she had to ask - he was the only male in town she knew with red hair - but had no idea how to do it. She wracked her brain while she directed Fred where to drive, trying to come up with a plan that would avoid actual direct contact with the potential donor. As they pulled up in front of Stephen's house, she figured that there was no point in being overly deceptive and sneaking in magically - and she refused to risk exposing Fred in such a manner. She'd just swallow her pride, ask for a hair, and pray Stephen wouldn't ask why.

She had to knock three times before he finally answered the door. "Sorry to drag you out of bed so early. I need a favor."

"Shit, Annie - your timing sucks," he grumbled. Stephen hadn't bothered getting dressed before coming to the door; just stood on his stoop wearing a sheet wrapped around his waist.

Annie looked nervously away from him, avoiding his direct gaze. "Like I said, sorry. Look, I know this sounds idiotic, but, er, well... I just need, um...." Annie got distracted when she heard a female voice call out from inside, asking him what was going on.

"Spit it out already. I've sort of got company," he said as he ran his hand through his bed-disarranged hair, smiling smugly.

"Right. I need one of your hairs. Please don't ask why," she begged, mentally crossing her fingers that for once in his life he would just be cooperative.

"You're joking." He paused, waiting for a punchline. "You're not joking," he said a moment later, eyebrows raised. He grinned, then asked, "What, is it some kind of voodoo thing?" Then he reached out for her hand. "You know, if it's for a love potion, I could save you the hassle," he purred, placing her hand over his heart and holding it there.

"Ahem."

Stephen's vain attempt at seduction was interrupted by a noise from the street. He turned to notice for the first time that someone was in the truck, scowling at him.

Annie took advantage of his distraction yanked a tuft of hair out of Stephen's chest. "Thanks, mate. I really owe you one!" she called as she hurried back to the truck.

Annie waved at him as the truck pulled away. She couldn't help but wonder at the vacant, confused look that had suddenly appeared on his face. She turned to Fred and noticed he was replacing his wand back into his pocket.

Fred began to open his mouth to say something.

"Not a goddamn word," Annie warned him, and after an instant's consideration, he took her advice.

It was almost noon when she woke up that day for the second time. She stumbled into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and winced. Her hair made her look like a victim of disaster. She stripped down and took a long, hot shower, which helped to wake her up.

She went into the kitchen dressed in her bathrobe and began to cook. She heard her Gran shuffle toward the table behind her.

"Late night, dear?" she asked.

"Sorry, Gran. There was so much pre-wedding activity at the Weasleys' last night, I just lost complete track of the time. I should have called, I know. You weren't worried, were you?"

The scene at the Burrow had been rather chaotic: Molly had insisted on putting on a birthday celebration for Harry Potter on top of all the wedding hubbub, which was then crashed by no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, delivering an inheritance of sorts from the late, great Dumbledore. There certainly seemed to be no shortage of drama at the Weasley household lately.

"I know you can take care of yourself, dear. I raised you to, remember? You're an adult, and not on a leash," Gran reassured her.

"Are you hungry? I thought I'd make pancakes. Care for some?"

"That sounds delightful! Thank you, dear."

Annie was still mixing the batter when Jane arrived. All three sat at the table to eat the late breakfast and tea.

"What on earth have you done to your eyes? Did you get any sleep at all?" Jane chastised her.

"Not a wink," Annie giggled. "You knew this mission was impossible when you signed up for it."

"Not impossible. I can work miracles!" Jane boasted.

"You'll need to," Annie laughed.

Jane spent the next hour painting Annie's fingernails and toenails to complement her dress. Normally she was far too fidgety and impatient a person not to mar the finish, but she was so tired today she nearly dozed off waiting for the polish to dry. Annie's curly hair was pretty simple to style: there wasn't much else that could be done with it, beyond a little mousse to keep it smoothly in place.

"I feel silly putting any makeup on you. You have lovely skin, you know," Jane muttered as she gently dabbed Annie's face with a soft sponge.

"Keep flattering me - I'll pay you handsomely," Annie joked, holding motionless as Jane held her face with one hand. She had never spent much time learning to use makeup herself, feeling it was too much of a hassle and expense to bother with. Rarely did she ever feel the need to impress someone in town, anyway.

"Finished, I think," Jane sighed.

Annie took a few moments to gaze at her reflection, now fully dressed and made up. She'd never in her life felt so pleased with what she saw there. Her eyes leaped out from her face, expertly lined and shadowed as they now were. Faint rosy blush adorned the apples of her cheeks, and her lips were just the barest shade darker than natural.

"You are indeed a genius!" Annie embraced her friend and whispered her thanks.

Gran stepped into the doorway. "Oh, Annie, you are a vision!" she exclaimed happily, and hugged her gingerly so as not to muss the dress. "Off you go now," Gran said as she pushed her toward the door. "Don't worry about me; you stay as long as you want tonight. Have fun!" she called as Annie waved goodbye to her from the cab of the truck.

Annie felt antsy as she drove the short distance to the Burrow. She was eager to see George of course, to make sure he was still healing all right, just as she had done every day since his injury. But she was also eager to see him all dressed up in his finery, which he hadn't let her see beforehand, and to see his reaction to her own as well. She felt slightly ashamed of what she considered was her idiotic vanity, but had butterflies in her stomach all the same as she pulled up the lane.

She turned off the engine when she reached the house, then sat in the parked truck for several minutes, mysteriously at a loss for how to move. Somehow the butterflies of a minute ago had transformed themselves into a large, leaden mass that took up residence in her gut. Only moments ago she couldn't wait to get here. What was she suddenly feeling so nervous about? she asked herself.

Oh, not much, she answered. Here she was, the muggliest twit ever, getting ready to parade into her wizard boyfriend's wizard brother's wizard-filled wizard wedding. A wizard brother who happened to be marrying a veela. Who had brought an entourage of veela relatives along with her. No worries at all there.

Annie had been staring dejectedly down into her lap while she nervously obsessed over her folly, resting her head on the steering wheel, which explained why she did not see anyone approaching. She almost jumped out of her skin when Fred flattened himself loudly against the windshield, making a grotesque face at her.

Glaring at him, she turned on the windshield wipers in revenge for the near coronary he had just caused her.

"Come on then. Out you get." He yanked open the door and hauled her out of the truck unceremoniously.

"Let go!" she hissed, stumbling a bit. "I'm not ready to...."

"I must admit, you do clean up pretty well. For a chicken-shit hag, that is," he chuckled back. "You two really are a pair," he mused cryptically. Fred began marching her around the back of the house and across the short distance to the orchard.

"Where's George?" she asked, scanning the crowd as they approached the tent.

"Probably trapped in the clutches of a veela. That's what you're worried about, isn't it?" Fred taunted her.

"What? No... I'm not worried..." she argued, trying to sound more indignant than anxious.

"You can lie better than that. I've seen you."

"You are a...."

But Annie couldn't finish the insult. Fred had guided her to a seat in the empty second row and turned her wrist, forcing her to sit in order to avoid pain. He turned away from her and started to return to the back of the tent.

"Wait! Don't leave me here by myself!" she whispered frantically.

"Don't make a scene!" he whispered loudly, enunciating each word emphatically, and causing several nearby heads to turn with inquisitive looks. He smirked wickedly as he retreated toward the back of the tent.

Annie sat in the seat, burning with embarrassment and anger directed at Fred. She had half a mind to get up and run out of the tent, had nearly convinced herself it was the right thing to do, when suddenly several people rushed into the row and sat down, blocking her exit. To her astonishment, a perfect replica of Stephen now sat two seats away from her. She was so shocked by the sight that she didn't even notice George was sitting in front of her for a whole minute.

Everyone then stood as the bride walked down the aisle. Annie saw Fred nudge his twin brother and whisper something, who then surreptitiously turned his head in her direction. When he recognized her, he ignored the procession and wholly turned to face her, his eyes lit up and smiling.

She felt herself grinning hugely back at him. George was stunning in his smart dress clothes, dashing and handsome.

Fred yanked George back into his seat once the bride reached the front. George looked back at her one last time before reluctantly turning his attention back to the ceremony.

She was not at such a disadvantage: it was easy to pretend to look at the wedding couple, and simply take in the sight of George instead: his bright, soft hair; his cheek a bit pink from the heat inside the tent; his strong, handsome profile. She felt a twinge as she contemplated the perfect curve of his ear, recalling the fate of the other one hidden from view on the other side of his head. She had briefly glimpsed a bandage still there when his face had been turned toward her.

Suddenly everyone was standing again. Annie had not heard the cue, lost in her reverie as she was, and was late to respond. She almost fell backwards as the chair disappeared from beneath her, and the tent arranged itself for the reception.

George came bounding over to her in the next moment. "When did you get here? I was looking all over..." he asked as he swept her up in an embrace.

She hoped he hadn't just seen her almost tumble onto her ass. "I was running a little late. Fred was his usual helpful self and found me this perfect seat," she said sarcastically.

"Bloody git. I told him to come get me if he saw you."

"And you're surprised he did the opposite? You're the bloody git!" she teased.

George led her over to a table not far from the dancing floor, then went to get refreshments. Annie looked around at the other wedding guests while he was gone, recognizing only a few members of his family.

She noticed that George's sister kept stealing looks at Stephen/Harry, her expression an odd mixture of longing, resentment, and pride. Once, when Harry-as-Stephen caught Ginny's eye, Annie was disturbed to see a sad, regretful, yearning look on his face as well. Such a complicated, tender emotion looked completely out of place on Stephen's features, in her opinion. It occurred to her then that Ginny might have stronger-than-friendly feelings for the hero-apparent of the resistance movement. Feelings that just might be reciprocated by said hero.

"You look very nice," George offered with a smile when he returned and sat down next to her, setting two champagne flutes on the table in front of them.

"Thank you," she replied, pleased by his simple compliment which seemed to be genuine. She took a small sip of champagne.

"What, that's it?" he asked her, sounding surprised.

"It goes without saying that you look heart-stoppingly handsome yourself," she added sincerely.

"No, I wasn't fishing," he chuckled. "I mean you didn't pinch, hit or insult me. I did just give you a compliment, you know."

"I'd be happy to indulge your masochism now, if you like," she argued as she gently swatted the back of his head, carefully steering clear of his injury.

"That's better," he laughed. "Heart-stoppingly handsome, did you say?"

"You should probably shut up before you ruin it," she recommended.

"Yes, I probably should," he agreed as he smiled. He rose then, bowed deeply to her, and held out his hand.

She could see he was going to be infuriating tonight. Wearing her most withering smirk, she put her hand in his and stood up. He then led her to the dance floor with an obnoxious flourish, spinning her around him three times before finally placing his hand at her waist. Other nearby guests began to stare at them curiously, but even so, Annie couldn't help laughing at his put-on pompous performance.

They danced for several songs. George then led her over to Bill and Fleur, and they both shared friendly congratulations with the newlyweds. As they danced away, George was uncharacteristically quiet.

"What are you plotting? You're far to quiet for comfort," she joked.

He slowed down their movement, pulled her even closer. He leaned in to kiss her jaw just below her ear. "That should be us someday," he whispered.

Annie's heart did indeed stop. She closed her eyes as he continued to kiss along her jaw, moving slowly toward her lips. "George Weasley," she whispered with barely controlled breath. "Did you just mean to propose to me?"

"What if I did?" he smiled impishly as he gazed at her, but his eyes were smoldering.

"I'll hold you to it, I swear," she answered, staring straight into his warm brown eyes, feeling like perhaps there was an electrical short within her body, and her nervous system was no longer in control. How exactly did one breathe, again?

"Good. That's that, then," he replied, and kissed her again.

They began to make their way off the dance floor, toward the exit, planning to take advantage of the quiet, darkened garden. Annie's feet no longer registered contact with the earth, her senses wholly tuned to the presence beside her. She could barely spare enough concentration to restrain her racing pulse.

Before they reached the exit, however, the tent behind them became ominously silent, and George and Annie turned around to face the odd disturbance. A silvery blue figure had suddenly materialized on the floor and now began to speak.

"The ministry has fallen..."* a deep, booming voice echoed from the large cat-like figure. Annie missed the next bit due to the shocked gasping of people around her, but the ghostly thing continued. "They are coming," it warned, and then it was gone as the mist dissipated.

Annie's ears were ringing in the moment of silence that followed. She looked at George's face for some clue as to what just happened. All she saw there was horrified shock.

Then all hell broke loose. Wedding guests began to scatter, screams of panic erupted all around.

She heard Arthur's voice, obviously directed to George. "Find Fred and get her out of here!" he yelled before he spun around and dashed into the crowd.

They turned together and bolted to the far exit. Annie heard what sounded like cases worth of champagne corks popping as wizard guests were disapparating en masse. As she ran, she searched the crowd for any sign of Fred. She saw instead five or six columns of billowing black smoke beginning to condense at spots scattered around the rapidly emptying dance floor. She noticed the few wizards that weren't madly dashing away had drawn their wands, pointing them toward the black smoke.

It took them only a few moments more to find Fred; he crashed into them as he was running back into the tent to discover the source of the chaos.

"What the bloody..." he yelled.

"Death Eaters!" George shouted. "Come on!"

In the seconds it took for the exchange, Annie yanked off her heeled shoes and chucked them into the hedge. The three of them turned as one and raced into the forest. Behind them, the tent erupted in flashes of light and crashing sounds.

"Search the area!" someone screamed. "No one escapes!"

Annie soon realized they were heading straight for her house. "Not to Gran!" she said as loud as she dared, and began to veer away from the boys, away from her home. She wouldn't lead whoever could be chasing them to poor Gran.

The twins must have either heard her or noticed her change of direction, because they followed her immediately. They reached a large stream a minute later, which forced them to pause to consider their next options.

Too late - they heard voices no more than twenty yards behind them. Each dashed to hide behind a nearby tree. Fred was maybe fifteen feet away from her, George a mere five. He was just close enough for Annie to hear him whispering.

Is he trying to tell me something? she wondered.

They could hear bodies crashing through the undergrowth, then a rough, cruel voice growled. "Homenum revelio...."

When he thought about it later, George wasn't sure if maybe his power was spread too thin, attempting to cast so many protective spells at once, or perhaps it was weaker because she had no magic within herself to sustain it against the force of the revealing spell. Regardless of the reason, George's shield charm surrounding Annie failed right before his eyes. To his horror, her shocked face momentarily lit up in a horrible green light.

"Over here!" shouted the hard voice. "Crucio!"

George launched himself at Annie in the same moment, tackling her to the ground. The force of the spell roared above them as it crashed into a tree trunk just feet away with a flash of red light. The tree shuddered, groaned, then snapped in two. Its branches ripped through the surrounding canopy as it crashed to the ground.

Annie was dazed by the impact. Another moment later she became aware of a heavy weight pressing down on her. She opened her eyes, realizing immediately it was George above her. She felt her legs being forced together by his feet, her arms roughly grabbed and shoved underneath his chest. His left hand then clamped over her mouth and his right arm curled over the top of her head. She could feel the tip of his wand resting against her collarbone. All this activity took only seconds to accomplish.

"Don't move," he commanded her in the barest whisper.

She obeyed him, even though she didn't understand why. She heard George whisper more unfamiliar words; unintelligible to her even though she could hear them far more clearly this time. Perhaps a spell? Why weren't they running, trying to get away? she wondered desperately. It didn't make any sense....

"STUPEFY!" she heard Fred shout, and a red light flashed. Then she heard a pop as he disapparated. A large, wooden crack followed an instant later as a distant tree absorbed the energy of the spell.

She wanted to urge George to do the same; to disapparate and save himself. But she couldn't open her mouth, couldn't move any part of her self. He had thoroughly immobilized her body with his own. A stabbing pain from something caught underneath her shoulder was beginning to make itself felt.

"There must be more! Fan out!" commanded the cruel voice.

It was sickeningly close now, and she suddenly understood why they weren't running: it was no use. The attackers were too close. She and George were sitting ducks.

Annie watched mutely as a light began to cast its glow on tree leaves above them. A bright beam first shone on the shattered tree truck next to them, then shined directly into her eyes, blinding her to everything else.

Abject terror flooded her body. George was absolutely motionless: he had even halted the continuous whispering in her ear. She couldn't breathe.

We're going to die, she thought.

She would never know what it was George had tried to tell her in his whispers during these final moments of their lives. In the seconds she had left to her, she silently asked Molly's forgiveness for the death of her son. At least they would face it together. I love you! she shouted silently over and over in her head, hoping somehow he could hear her.

"Stupefy!" Fred shouted again, further away now. Then she heard a crash, followed by a furious scream. The lit wand spun away from them, toward the crash, plunging them into darkness again.

Fred? she wondered.

"Stupefy!" Fred's voice rang out once more, but from yet another direction.

It occurred to her that he was trying to draw the pursuit away from his brother, toward himself. Oh, Fred! she cried silently. Be careful!

The wand flashed over them for one more instant. "Could've sworn..." mumbled the cruel voice. Then both the light and the voice disappeared.

What had just happened? How had they not been seen? How were they still alive?

She heard Fred's voice shout again, now joined by at least two others, farther away from them still. She recognized the shouts of other wizards now joining him in the battle. She heard the cruel voice howl in pain and frustration, then everything was silent.

George waited a few more moments, then released her. "Can you still run?" he whispered urgently.

She nodded. "I think so."

George and Annie scrambled upright, and she pulled several deep breaths once more into her lungs. Miraculously, her legs still worked. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, helping her to keep up alongside George as they followed the stream further away from the road. After hearing no sound of pursuit for ten minutes at least, they decided it was safe now to cross it and head back toward Annie's house.

They waded the stream, which came up to Annie's waist at its deepest point. The wet silk of her skirt clung to her legs annoyingly as they made their way back to her house. She had begun to mentally relax slightly while they ran unpursued; but now, as she saw the dark house before her, she became anxious again and picked up the pace. She had to make sure Gran was all right....

George took her hand to slow her down as she drew nearer to the house. They walked cautiously together as they approached the garden fence. He halted, protectively pulling her closer, slightly behind his body. George's wand was drawn.

Had he seen something? She stared hard into the darkness, searching for some sign of a threat.

There was a quiet bird's call directly in front of them. In the same instant she recognized Fred's childhood identification signal, darkness seemed to melt away from him as he emerged into sight. She realized she had been gripping George's free arm rather tightly, probably hurting him, and loosened her grasp.

"The house is clear," Fred said with a jerk of his head toward Annie's home. "They're searching our place right now. You stay here and wait for me to send word," he commanded.

George nodded silently.

"Is everyone else all right?" Annie asked.

"We think so."

"Harry?" asked George.

"Dad said he saw them disapparate; that's all we know right now."

"Thank you, Fred, for everything..." Annie whispered into his ear as she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Lucky we were there to save your scrawny muggle hide," he teased, patting her condescendingly on the head. "I'm off, then." The brothers thumped each other on the back, and Fred disappeared.

George put his arm around Annie and lead her up the steps into the house. They silently crept through the kitchen and into Annie's room. George kept his wand in hand the whole time.

"You should get out of these wet clothes," he said, and they both half-smiled, remembering the phrase from another moment months ago in this room. "Sorry about your dress."

Annie put her hand on his lips to hush him. "We're alive. You saved my life. Who cares about this stupid dress?"

"I am the heroic type," he joked, leaning his forehead against hers while he unzipped the back of her dress. He gently turned her around to help her out of it further.

"What the hell?" he quietly exclaimed. His fingers gingerly touched the sore spot on her back just below the shoulder.

"A rock, I expect. When we fell," she explained, resisting the urge to flinch as he probed the injury with his fingers. She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Shit - my fault.... Sorry about that!" he said with a pained grimace.

"Yes, do remember to be gentler the next time you save someone from deadly attack by evil wizards," she teased, rolling her eyes. She stepped out of her dress and turned to tiptoe out of the room. "I'll be quick."

In front of the bathroom mirror, she turned to examine her back for herself. There was a gash under her shoulder blade, made to look worse by the dark bruise forming beneath it and a trickle of dried blood. It hurt, but not as badly as it looked.

After a fast shower, she donned a robe and headed quietly back to her room. George had already changed into a set of his clothes he kept there, just in case they ever needed them to keep up appearances. They had never required them before now; usually he just apparated directly in and out of her room whenever necessary.

She still felt guilty for sneaking around behind Gran's back so much, but what other option was there? She was nineteen years old, living at home instead of a flat of her own for one reason only: to take care of Gran. She couldn't leave Gran, and she wouldn't do without George. And it was ridiculous to expect Gran to knowingly permit any modern nonsense like sleepovers.

George was pointedly looking out her window into the darkness as she dressed.

"Anything wrong?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head. "Just checking," he reassured her. He turned back to her as she finished pulling on a pair of jeans. They sat together on the bed, leaning against the headboard with their arms around each other, waiting for word from George's family.

"What happened, exactly, back there?" she asked him quietly.

"A bit of retaliation, I expect, for last week," he explained.

Annie tensed, remembering George's near-deadly injury that resulted. The bandage had fallen off during the melee, and the scabby wound on the side of his head was now oozing a bit.

"You-Know-Who wants Harry dead; must've figured there was a good chance he'd be there at the wedding. Apparently, he's in charge now," he muttered with disgust at the news received just before the fracas erupted.

"Your family is in danger now, because you're helping Harry?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Among other things. The list is far from brief, actually. The Weasleys have been blood traitors and troublemakers for generations," he said in an attempt to lighten the conversation. But his stern, determined face belied any humor.

Blood traitor. She had heard that term before, knew what it meant. Fred and George had often used it jokingly amongst themselves. George's family was "pure" wizard, and she, a muggle, was the furthest thing from it. None of this was news to her.

"So, by being with me, you put yourself in even more danger," she whispered, staring down at her lap. They had had this discussion more than once before, but obviously things had changed since then; as of tonight, in fact. There would be no more being brought in for questioning, no further pretense if they were caught together. It would be official public policy now: their relationship would be forbidden and openly punishable.

George pulled her face up to his and looked her squarely. "Don't..." he warned her. "We've been through this before. Nothing's going to happen to me, and I won't let anything hurt you," he said confidently. He kissed her, then continued in a lighter, teasing voice. "Too late for second thoughts now, anyway. We're engaged, remember?"

The memory of the wonderful moment on the dance floor caused another enormous grin to break across her face despite the grim situation. The gloomy mood had broken, and they began to kiss with some enthusiasm now.

"All the same, we should probably lay low for a while.... No more nights out on the town... no carousing.... Better to just stay in," she murmured, each phrase punctuated by a kiss.

"Now you're just being prudent," he said in mock disgust, then chuckled.

*

A masked and hooded Death Eater stood before Arthur, wand drawn. He had done all he could do now, and hoped the last of his guests had escaped any harm.

"Hello, Lucius," Arthur said angrily. It was no mystery to him who he now faced.

The mask was swept away by the wand. "Arthur Weasley," Malfoy spat in disgust. "You're in a spot of trouble, I'm afraid...."

Arthur didn't respond, only glared at his longtime nemesis. The cold, haughty face with heartless eyes glared back at him. Arthur had always considered himself an easygoing, friendly man; always willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But standing here, wandless and at Malfoy's mercy, seeing his evil sneer looking back at him, Arthur felt an icy fire of hate in his heart.

"Oh," Malfoy mused, looking around, feigning surprise. "Have I interrupted something? A family celebration, perhaps? My heavens, Weasley... all this must have bankrupted you! A rented tent, a few morsels of peasant food...." Malfoy clucked his tongue.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand a wedding's true purpose, Lucius. What would you know about marrying a woman for love, as opposed to genealogical gain? Isn't that why you joined our noble family of Black, after all? Working to purify your own muddy Malfoy blood?" Arthur smiled as the sneer fell from Malfoy's face.

"Where is Potter?" he snapped.

Arthur had strongly suspected Harry had been the goal of the ambush. How interesting that Malfoy had cut to the chase so quickly. Things must not be going well for him within the ranks of Death Eaters. Arthur took only a moment's pleasure in that knowledge however, considering the fact he had just watched his youngest son and Harry disapparate into the unknown a few minutes ago.

"I haven't the foggiest idea, Lucius. Harry hasn't shown his face around here today." It was technically true, after all. Might even hold up against a Legilimens, if Arthur really concentrated. "Perhaps whoever your informant was," said Arthur, wrinkling his nose as if smelling something revolting, "has misled you."

"Crucio!" snarled Malfoy.

Arthur had only an instant to prepare himself for the onslaught of the curse. When he regained his senses, he had no idea for how long he had been tortured. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath, as the pain slowly receded. Must not have been too long, he thought. I still have my wits, I think....

"I am not a patient man, Weasley. I will ask you once again. Where is Potter?" he said slowly and malevolently.

"I don't know, Lucius. And even if I did, I would never betray him to your master, puppet that you are."

Malfoy ground his teeth, unwilling to consider the possibility this cur was telling the truth. "What about your son, then? Where is he?" he growled. Draco had often told him how Potter and the Weasley brat were thick as thieves at school, along with that mudblood girl. Perhaps a more direct, familial threat would loosen the father's tongue?

Arthur had recovered sufficiently from the Cruciatus Curse to carefully rise to his feet. "I have many sons, Lucius.... Which one are you referring to at the moment?"

Malfoy bristled at the thinly veiled insult. What did it matter that he only had one child? Quality over quantity, he always consoled himself. It was not his fault that Narcissa was too delicate for childbearing, nor cared much for the act itself. Unlike the cow Weasley had wed himself to. The peasant had the nerve to smile smugly at him. He knew how to wipe that knowing smirk off his face....

"Crucio!" he screamed once more.

A minute later, he released Arthur from the grip of the curse. Malfoy had to be careful, after all. Mustn't destroy him outright, more's the pity. For Weasley, lowly as he was, had connections... connections that might someday be exploited, when the time was right, according to his master's wishes.

"You know the one I mean; the one that forever rides on Potter's coattails," he hissed.

Arthur lay gasping once again on the ground. It took him another moment to collect himself. "Ron is ill, unfortunately. Missed the wedding. He's upstairs at home, if you want to see him yourself," he said shakily.

Malfoy was momentarily stunned into silence, shocked by this news. Panic began to creep into his gut. "I don't believe you!" he sputtered. "Prove it!" He grabbed Arthur by the arm and dragged him into a standing position, jabbing his wand into the soft flesh of Arthur's neck.

"Certainly, Lucius," he said, wincing at the rough treatment. "I must warn you though... he has spattergroit. Have you ever had it? I wonder if perhaps you have, judging by your face?"

Malfoy burned with fury at his bald impudence. He couldn't resist another go. Just a few more seconds worth....

"Crucio!"

Thirty seconds later, as his prey lay motionless on the ground, Malfoy momentarily worried that he had finally gone too far. But then the worthless lump began to move again.

"Stop playing with me, Weasley, or you might get my temper riled," he warned.

"Ron is upstairs," Arthur uttered in the barest whisper. "Got sick a month ago, right after he came home from school."

"Search the house!" Malfoy shouted the order to his nearest henchman. "Tear it apart, if necessary. Bring anything... or anyone... of interest directly to me."

An hour later, after everyone had reported back to him without a single scrap of useful information, Lucius Malfoy was becoming rather put out. After the failure at the Department of Mysteries over a year ago, and Draco's only partial success at Hogwarts this spring, his family was in dire need of a successful raid tonight. If Potter had been here, only to have escaped yet again.... His bowels quaked to consider the consequences.

"Assemble the rest of your pathetic ragamuffin family, Weasley. We'll see what they have to say..." he ordered.

"We're all here already, Lucius. Please forgive me if I forgo the usual polite niceties... I'm not quite up to playing the host at the moment," Arthur replied. Molly was supporting much of his weight, in order to keep him upright in his seat. He gazed at the rest of his family assembled in the living room: Ginny, Charlie, Bill and Fleur; they all looked upon him with concern. The icy hate for Malfoy flared in his heart once again.

"I am looking for Potter," Malfoy spat at the family sitting before him. "Where is he?"

As a group, his prisoners all shook their heads, shrugged their shoulders. They certainly stuck together: this vulgar, disgraceful rabble. He would soon teach them the folly of that.

Malfoy directed his attention to the comely girl he deduced was the bride. She really is quite beautiful, he was forced to admit to himself. He grabbed her by the chin, holding her gaze by force. A proud thing, too, he mused as she glared back at him, resisting his grip. He squeezed harder, making her wince.

The tall young man rose in anger and lunged toward Malfoy. The other, smaller one rose as well and moved to restrain him.

So... the groom would take the bait this easily? Malfoy grinned with anticipation.

"Poor, unfortunate, stupid girl. Do you see now your mistake? Binding yourself to this common trash?" he said, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.

Fleur wrenched her face away from Malfoy's grasp, and threw back her head. "My family is the finest in Britain. I see nothing before me to contradict this," she spat with fury.

Malfoy turned to the groom next, who had noticed the angry red marks made by his fingers that were now appearing on the bride's face. The disfigured young man looked at him with a burning hatred in his eyes.

"Dear, dear. Those bites look awfully nasty. You must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, hmm? An unfortunate Weasley habit, that. And now you're left so damaged you were forced to take a half-breed to wife? No proper witch would have you, I suppose. Oh, wait a moment, I seem to have forgotten something. Tainting pure wizard blood is a favorite Weasley pastime as well, isn't it?"

Charlie was struggling to physically hold his brother back. Bill was growling, snapping his teeth in fury as if he wanted to shred Malfoy with them. Arthur was trying to get through to Bill by shouting at him to back down, since he was too weak yet to stand and help Charlie restrain him.

The wolfish ferocity of the angry young groom was beginning to make Malfoy uncomfortable. The boy was tall and physically intimidating, even without the unpredictable effects of Greyback's attack. He flicked his wand and the curiously canine young man howled in pain. The smaller one, to his credit, took it in silence. The females sat frozen in horror, unable to help them.

Finally the great cow of a mother screamed. "Stop!"

He released the boys from the curse a moment later, noting with satisfaction how they both crumpled on the ratty furniture. "Do you have anything to add, woman?"

"They're telling the truth!" she cried in desperation. "Ask anyone here. Harry never came today. We haven't seen him!"

"Oh, rest assured madam, I plan to interrogate each and every one of you. Carefully and thoroughly," he said softly, enunciating each threatening word. Malfoy turned back to Arthur. "Where are the rest of your urchins, Weasley?"

"Don't know. Things have been a bit chaotic since you and your lot decided to ambush a perfectly innocent family wedding celebration," he answered, his voice still weak from before.

Malfoy grinned, belying the anxiety that was rapidly mounting within. It was imperative that he not return to the Dark Lord empty-handed, like the last time. "Hmm. A few birds have flown the coop, have they? Well, well, well, let us see who comes back to roost."

He turned to the men who had accompanied him on this mission. "Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. That is, what comfort you can find in this dirty hovel. It appears we will be imposing upon the Weasley hospitality for a while longer, I'm afraid."

*

The sky was just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn when a silvery fox coalesced from nothing at the foot of Annie's bed. "Come home now. We told them you were at Aunt Muriel's, who then sent you to the shop. Keep the story straight, you will be asked." The spectral animal disappeared in a puff.

"Fred's Patronus," George responded to Annie's baffled look. "I'll explain it more to you later. Stay at home today.... I'll be back as soon as it's safe."

He kissed her - more urgently than his calm tone of voice would have indicated necessary - then was gone.

*

"We need to talk, George."

The house was finally quiet once more. It was mid-afternoon, and the rest of the family was asleep. George looked into his father's eyes. He had known that this was coming. It was inevitable, after last night. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but here it was.

"I know..." he answered with a sigh. George watched as his father took a seat next to him on the sofa.

Arthur rubbed his face with his palms. "George, I'm worried... about you and Annie."

"Don't be. We'll be fine..." he replied, deliberately misinterpreting his father.

Arthur gave George a look that told him he would brook no nonsense from him at the moment. "I'll be straight with you, son. She knows too much already. She could identify practically every member of the Order, even if she doesn't know precisely what it is."

"She'd never tell! You don't know her like I do!" he protested.

"And you have no idea the brutal tactics a Death Eater will resort to. She's a danger to us, and a danger to herself. If they ever found out..."

"They never will!" he hissed.

"And how can you guarantee that, George? There's only one sure way..."

"NO!"

"You have to give her up," his father persisted. "For her own good. For now, at least."

"I can't! I won't!" George argued, nearly shouting, carefully omitting the fact that he had already tried unsuccessfully.

"George, you must see reason! If nothing else, you must remember you have a responsibility to the Order. Look, she's a lovely girl; I like her too. But you're both only nineteen years old..."

"Oh, not you, too! It doesn't matter! How can you, of all people, expect me to swallow the 'you're too young' crap?"

Arthur had to concede his son had him dead to rights on that point. He and Molly had been the same age when they were wed.... But this was completely different. Wasn't it? "You have some other solution?" Arthur asked, exasperated.

"Actually, I do." George had been thinking about it for a while now. Well, to be precise, he'd been very careful not to think of it all day today, just in case. But now the house was empty of uninvited guests. They had only really been interested in where Harry was, anyway. The fact that a muggle had slipped through their clutches had completely escaped their notice.

"Bring her in. Give her the Fidelius," he urged softly. "You're secret keeper - you could do it. Then she wouldn't be a danger to the Order anymore...."

Arthur looked at his son in shock. "George, be serious! How would putting her under a Fidelius charm keep her safe?"

"It wouldn't, I know. But it would protect the Order, right? And that's your main objection, isn't it?" George looked at his father, whose regretful expression confessed silently that he had no argument with his son's logic so far. "Then I could protect her... charm the house."

Arthur shook his head. "It wouldn't work. Nothing in their home would function anymore. And all those spells on a muggle house would stand out like a searchlight, if someone was looking for trouble. You'd be putting her at incredible risk, George."

"I know, but... I have to. She'll say the same, I'm sure of it. Just ask her."

Arthur's eyebrow rose inquisitively. "Is it truly that serious between you two?"

George looked earnestly into his father's eyes, and nodded. "She's the one, Dad," he said softly.

Arthur sighed deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted and aching, desperate to lie down. Despite all the sensible arguments he could pile up against his son's relationship with the muggle girl, he wouldn't go up against true love. No one had the right to interfere, if that's what this really was.

"All right, look - we'll leave the choice up to her. But George, if she chooses not to take the oath, then that's the end of it, understand? She has to do it of her own free will. And if she doesn't, you will drop it, is that clear? Promise me now you will not do anything rash...."

George nodded with a smile, brimming with confidence at an argument he judged to be already won. He leaped to his feet. "Fair enough. Let's go get her."

"Later," Arthur sighed. "I need to rest for a bit, first."

*

Gran wanted to hear all about the wedding, of course, as they sat at the table in the kitchen for breakfast. Annie had to carefully edit the tale, sticking to the traditional highlights regarding the bridal dress, decorations, cake, etc. When she got to the part about dancing at the reception, her voice caught. She wasn't quick enough to hide the contradictory smile on her face and eyes welling up with tears.

"What's wrong, Annie?" Gran asked.

Annie shook her head. She wasn't ready to share George's proposal with Gran just yet. "It was just... very romantic, that's all."

She spent the rest of her day keeping herself busy with household chores, keeping out of Gran's view as much as possible. Annie struggled to remain calm, to hide the anxiety she felt for George and the rest of his family, while she waited. It didn't help that George didn't return until well after dark. She had grown quite desperate for news of his family's safety as the day had worn on, and was therefore frantic when he finally appeared in her room.

"Are you safe? Are they safe? What happened?" she spluttered as she kissed him fiercely.

George was almost as agitated as she was. "Calm. Down. Let me. Breathe," he was barely able to gasp out between the kisses.

"Sorry." She stopped kissing him but still clung tightly around his neck.

"We're all fine, as far as we know. Nobody's sure where Ron is, other than he's with Harry and Hermione. The Death Eaters," his voice spat the name like a particularly vile epithet, "are finally gone, but we're likely being watched."

George sat her down on the edge of her bed, and knelt before her. He held her by the shoulders as he looked seriously into her eyes. He took a deep breath then began to speak.

"Annie, as you can tell from recent events, things are getting a bit hairy around here. That's not likely to change, considering who's in charge now. My family... is involved in something.... I can't tell you specifics, but it's secret... and dangerous... and right."

Annie noticed that for some reason George was having difficulty saying what he wanted to say. Almost, but not quite, like he was having trouble choosing the right words. His speech was full of awkward pauses, and she could see that he had an almost physical struggle to speak.

"But something's changed.... It's not just my decision anymore.... For us to be together... you have to do something. If you love me, like I love you, then I need you to come with me tonight."

"For how long?" she asked frantically. George's words, aside from being cryptic, struck panic in her heart. She couldn't leave Gran; not yet - not for good. She prayed George wasn't asking her to make a choice between them. She felt her heart begin to rip apart at the thought....

"For a while. I'll have you back by morning. Will your Gran be okay till then?"

Annie sighed with relief, saved from tearing her heart in two, and nodded. "I think so."

"So will you come?"

"Of course."

They snuck out of the house after Annie checked in on her Gran to reassure herself she was sleeping peacefully. As they crept past the garden gate, she was startled to see George's father waiting for them in the shadows.

"Hello, Annie. I'm here to take you to the Burrow now, the only safe way that's left to us. It will be a bit uncomfortable for you, but only for a moment. Do you trust me, dear?"

Annie nodded. Even in the darkness, she could see Arthur was rather the worse for wear at the moment. She wondered what had happened over the past twenty-four hours to take such a toll upon him.

"All right then; come stand by me, and I'll hold on to your shoulder like this. You might want to put your arms around me, to help steady yourself. Ready?"

Again, Annie nodded silently, obeying his instructions.

Suddenly, she felt as though she had been instantaneously plunged to the bottom of a deep oceanic abyss. An immense blackness and monumental pressure began to stuff itself into her ear canals and nostrils. She was sure something had gone terribly wrong. This must be death....

And then, another instant later, she opened her eyes in front of a crackling fire in the living room of the Burrow, still clutching George's father around his waist. A second later, George popped into being right next to her.

"Here we are, dear. I hope that wasn't too terribly disconcerting for you," Arthur said as he patted her on the shoulder.

She shook her head to reassure him, confident that if she tried to verbally respond, it would be made completely obvious by her quivering voice that whatever just happened had shaken her tremendously indeed.

She looked to George, who directed her to the sofa. They sat together, completing a small circle of family members. Molly was there, with Fred. A shabby-looking man she had seen here once or twice before, but never been properly introduced to, was also in the room, nervously hovering around the margins.

"Now, Annie. I'm not sure how much George has already explained to you, but I want you to know that whatever happens tonight, whatever decision you make, I promise we will do our utmost to keep you and your grandmother safe. That is our ultimate priority," Arthur began in a serious voice.

Annie nodded slowly, taking in the gravity of the situation. Every face in the room was looking at her with a similar solemn expression. Each of them looked haggard, worn down by the day's events, but yet showed concern for her. She was touched that they spared such feeling for her even now, but also felt a resentment that was growing into anger at the people responsible for hurting her dearest friends.

Arthur began to speak again. "As you have unfortunately seen throughout the last week, there are people in our world who do not respect the rights of anyone else to live peacefully as they choose. They value only power, and are willing to use any means necessary to obtain it. And they have recently gained control of the Ministry of Magic: our government, so to speak.

"My family, and others like us, has chosen to resist them. More than this, I cannot tell you... yet. First I must ask you to make a decision. A very important one, with far-reaching effects, I'm afraid. I must honestly warn you now: it will determine your future with George."

Annie looked at George, who was looking at her earnestly himself. She reached for his hand and squeezed it for support. Whatever they asked her to do, she would. At this moment, she was willing to take any risk for them.

"Annie... you, as a non-magical person, have far too much knowledge of our world to remain safe, either in our world or in your own. We are putting you in danger by allowing you any further contact with us. We are putting ourselves in danger as well, not to mention risking our cause. This is something we can no longer do, circumstances as they are, unless you are willing to make a commitment: to take a special kind of oath. Do you understand me so far?"

"I think so." She understood that George's family and friends were in danger. A danger that grew as the influence of the nameless menace increased. Whatever it took, she would keep them safe, if it was within her power to do so.

"Now, if you choose to continue your relationship with my family, with George, I will ask you to take the oath I mentioned before. It is magical, and binding, and permanent. It will force you to keep our secret forever, no matter what. You will never be able to reveal the secret to anyone, no matter what duress you yourself may be under. No matter your own conscious, rational thought. Even to save yourself, or someone you love."

"I would never betray you, Mr. Weasley," she assured him.

"Annie, my dear... it is not because I do not trust you to keep a secret. God knows you have demonstrated your trustworthiness beyond a shadow of a doubt, over your years of friendship with the boys. The oath is necessary because the enemy who wishes to learn the secret will resort to evil measures to get it. You see, magic can be used to torture as well as heal; to destroy as well as create. I don't blame George if he has not explained this Dark aspect of our world to you."

"And the alternative?" she asked, swallowing hard. She trusted them; trusted George completely. But this was serious. George's father was talking about forever. And Annie had a responsibility to her Gran. She couldn't justify risking Gran's safety, any more than she could the Weasleys'.

"I will be forced to erase your memory. You will have no recollection of any member of my family, ever, for the rest of your lifetime."

Arthur paused to let the enormity of this sink in. The poor girl looked like she had been slapped. No - worse than that - shot with an arrow through the heart, perhaps. He looked at her with pity.

"I'm sorry, Annie. These are drastic options I am asking you to choose between, I know. As I said before, it is only because the safety of my family, and our friends, require such measures. These are trying times, to be sure.

"If you choose to take the oath, I can assure you we will do everything in our power to keep you and your grandmother safe. You will be carefully guarded. If you choose the alternative - well, we'd still keep an eye out for you, even though you'll never know it. Either way, you will be as safe as we can possibly keep you.

"I know I've given you a great deal to ponder. Do you have any questions for me, Annie?"

"Just one. If I take the oath, is my Gran affected in any way? I have to take care of her, you see: I'm all she's got," Annie said in a choked voice.

"George has assured us that she knows little more than his name, and nothing about our family. Is this true?"

"Yes," Annie assured him without hesitation.

"Then no, she will not be affected in the least. However, if you choose the alternative, she will lose all memory of George as well. As will anyone else who knows about the two of you."

Arthur paused for a moment, considering this young muggle girl before him. Her head was bent, and she was gazing thoughtfully into her lap while his son George was holding her hand. He was staring at her intently, with concern for her, but also with the naïve confidence that only teenage boys have. He seemed to think he knew the decision she would make. Arthur was not so sure.

They looked so very young, the two of them. How could he ask either of them to make such a life-altering decision at nineteen? It wasn't fair of him - but what choice did he have? He glanced up at Lupin, who was seated in the corner, shaking his head slightly, looking conflicted as well. Why did love have to be so complicated?

"Would you like some time alone, to consider?" Arthur asked her gently.

Annie gazed up at George, sitting beside her and holding her hand. There was never any question that she would ever give him up. "No. Give me the oath."

*partial quote from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by J.K. Rowling