(2 : 3) The Burrow { 20 }

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.·:*¨༺𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛❷⇻𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛②⓪༻¨*:·.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠

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❝𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏.❞

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Mrs Weasley came to a halt in front of us, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of her pocket.

"So," she said.

"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?" She yelled at the boys, including Harry which surprised me. She turned to me, "Y/n, how wonderful to see you, dear" She turned back to the boys.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs Weasley in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry Mum, but see, we had to -" All three of Mrs Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone ... could have crashed ... out of my mind with worry ... did you care? ... never, as long as I've lived ... you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy ..."

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have been injured, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job -" She then turned to me, and her gaze instantly softened. "You could have died..." She said, softly. I felt bad for her. She turned back to the boys. It seemed to go on for hours.

Mrs Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on me, as I backed away.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Y/n, dear, and I'm relieved that you arrived uninjured." she said, "Come in and have some breakfast." She turned and walked back into the house and I, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.

Mrs Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like

"Don't know what you were thinking of" and "never would have believed it". "I don't blame you, dear," she assured me, tipping eight or nine sausages onto my plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really" (she was now adding three fried eggs to my plate), "flying an illegal car halfway across the country - anyone could have seen you -" She flicked her wand casually at the washing-up in the sink, which began to clean itself, clinking gently in the background.

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