Broken Bits

49. A Broken Cry

I haven't the words just yet. 

brief TW: blood, fighting and open wounds. mindful if you are squeamish to that sort of thing. 

They were green, and they were shiny and oh Fred had fallen in love all over again. Helplessly in love.

There she was, before him. Standing in an awful green sweater, surrounded by green pine trees and on her tip toes, pressing her pillow lips against his own. A small ring on her left hand tangled in his hair.

There she was, on her hands and knees, digging through the green vegetables. He tugged off his tie, looping it over the gate post, before making his way over to kiss her, hello.

There she was, standing in a green cotton dress, tending to the laundry outside their small kitchen window. Shooting a quirky smile over her shoulder, meant only for him.

There she was, curled up in a small, ratty plush chair in their living room. A green mug pressed to her lips, while she flicked through a large book on her lap. Her pink tongue tracing her bottom lip, back and forth.

There she was, seventeen years old with her hands pressed against his chest, pushing her magic into him while her bright, green eyes cried tears over his body.

There she was, standing before him with her wand pressed on the underside of Rockwood's chin.

"Let him go." Hermione growled, and Fred felt his body slack. His ribs ached, his throat was sore and he was pretty certain at least three of his fingers were broken. But by Merlin's great grace, Hermione was alive.

"How...peculiar." Rockwood drawled, Fred saw it, out of the corner of his eye. Rockwood's pointer finger merely twitched, and suddenly Fred was slammed to his knees, bound by an invisible rope and gagged. He gurgled, eyes blown wide but Rockwood kept his gaze pointedly on Hermione.

"Daisy?" Rockwood called over his shoulder. Her footsteps were light on the marble floors, and she hurried to stand just at Rockwood's knee.

"Yes, master?" Daisy asked, in her sweet voice that Fred recognized from the camp. When she had brought them tea, and fixed them breakfast. When she had tended their wounds, and gave them extra tea cups without asking questions. Fred no longer felt the urge to boot her across the room.

"Why is it-" Rockwood waved carelessly at Hermione, who had yet to lower her wand. "-she is not unconscious?" Rockwood asked, turning his gaze to properly look at Daisy. "Did you not ensure a job well done?"

"It's..she...she's powerful sir!" Daisy cried, shrinking in on herself when Rockwood raised a threatening hand.

"Don't."

Rockwood turned, startled, to see Hermione glaring at him.

"Go on then, kill me." Rockwood said easily, with a quick kick of his leg, he sent Daisy sprawling back a few feet. "You won't, but I'd like to see you try." He grinned, a toothy grin, the kind you'd see on the back of a magazine on the train for teeth whitening strips. It was unnerving to say the least.

"You don't deserve to die." Hermione spat, her hand trembled, just barely. Enough for Fred to catch it before it stilled again.

"You won't kill me because of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. You bloody Gryffindor. The world is not black and white, Granger." Rockwood spat back, his hand tightening on his wand while his other moved upwards, tracing his collarbone. Fred saw a flash of a cord around his neck, before his robe moved to cover it again.

"It's Weasley now!" George's voice was gargled, most likely due to blood. There was a snort of laughter, before another sickening crunch of a boot. Fred squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, listening until George took a struggled breath then he opened his eyes once more. To find Rockwood smiling.