𝟏.| ✬ 𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁, ✬ {ℬ. 𝒲ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎}

\𝓉𝓌ℴ\

~

𝓽𝔀: 𝓪𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓮

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

Her heart was racing.

Thank you for your last letter,

She ran a sweaty palm through her ragged hair, chopped shorter than usual.

I was just wondering...

Her writing was just barely legible. She couldn't stop the tremor in her hands as she continued to write.

I want to come home."

"I want to come home." Her voice was hardly a whisper.

Please come get me.

Her head dropped onto the desk, covered by her arms as she let out heaving, silent sobs.

As soon as possible.

~

The weeks had gone by quickly as her situation had deteriorated. She couldn't even remember the happiness she'd felt that first night at her mother's house. It was covered by a veil of constant fear. It was her, she thought. It was her own head thinking things were worse than they really were. But every time Stephen took a step towards her, she couldn't help flinching away. Every time her mother raised her voice, her heart pounded out of her chest.

She finished the letter and pulled herself out of the chair, walking over to Circe's cage. "Come on, Circ, just a short trip. Just to the Weasleys." She fastened the short note to her owl's leg and watched her fly off into the night. To pass the time, she picked up Bill's latest letter, the one she'd received three weeks previously and still hadn't answered. She had it practically memorized, but she still found comfort in the neat scrawl, the kind words.

Eleanora, I know you think things are different now, but you need to be careful.

She tapped her fingers on the desk, then stopped, annoyed with the noise.

You weren't being dramatic, I saw all of the proof for myself. It wasn't in your head, El.

She rubbed at her temples, but cringed as her fingers grazed the fresh bruise on the side of her head, forgotten.

You need to get out of that house, but I know you're stubborn and you probably won't see that until it's too late, so I'm just going to say this.