xviii. brush with death

424 29 6
                                    

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:BRUSH WITH DEATH

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
BRUSH WITH DEATH

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE NIGHT ONE HARRY Potter became seven, Keegan Delaney waited, suffocated by terror, at The Burrow. She wasn't alone, at least not physically. Scowling, Ginny prowled the living room with her sights set on the pulled-back curtains. At every miniscule movement outside, she'd press her face to the glass panes and anxiously wait for one of her brothers to step into the yard. When none of them did and both the yard and the surrounding fields remained eerily empty, she'd go back to her pacing, only tearing her gaze away to glare at her mother bustling about in the kitchen or to look at Keegan in a sense of camaraderie.

Keegan couldn't bring herself to return the expression, despite her initial hopes for a close relationship with her boyfriend's siblings. The second George and the others left The Burrow for Privet Drive, she'd sank onto the couch, emotionless, and stayed there ever since. However, with every blink of her eyes, she couldn't help but picture George's lifeless face on this very couch. And if it wasn't George, then it was Fred. And if it wasn't Fred, it was her mother, and if it wasn't Vivian Delaney, it was Eleanor... the list went on so long that Keegan's numb feeling quickly faded into panic cramped by a rib-cage and a vulnerable heart.

"They should be back by now," Molly blurted suddenly.

She'd given up on the mess she'd made in the kitchen, abandoning her pots and pans to stand in the archway of the living room. She, too, stared out the window, her eyes glossy with tears. Behind her, on the kitchen wall, the seven clock hands that represented the Weasley children pointed at Imminent Danger. The hands had sat there since the death of Albus Dumbledore, but knowing this in her heart and mind were two very different things.

"I should be with them," Ginny grumbled, an argument Keegan had heard countless times since she arrived. Deep down, it was an argument she agreed with; at least, when regarding herself. It wasn't safe for her, George had protested when the time came to choose who would put their lives on the line to move Harry from one location to another. But it wasn't safe for any of them, to be frank, so Keegan didn't truly understand his point.

"Enough, Ginny," Molly snapped, her face coloured pink from frustration. Ginny glared at her mother, but Molly refused to budge. "We've already discussed this."

Keegan let out a sigh, preparing herself for what could only be a belligerent response from Ginny, when she caught frantic movement from the corner of her eye. She didn't hesitate the second Harry's face registered in her brain. She tore herself off the couch for the first time in over an hour, racing into the yard with Molly and Ginny hot on her heels.

"Hagrid! Harry!" Molly cried, struggling to take in the unruly state of them. There was a cut on Hagrid's face, and both of them were drenched to the bone. Keegan hesitated at the sight, something fearful festering in her chest. "Where are the others?"

BLEED OUT ━━ george weasleyWhere stories live. Discover now