✔️ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎 → ℎ. 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦

15 | M O R T A L

There's just so much goddamned
weight on my shoulders. 
All I'm trying to do is live my
                               mo'f#cking life.

   FEELING UTTERLY NUMB, Ember was staring down at Ron's pale face. Hours had passed, but nothing on his condition had changed. His chest under the white blanket was slowly rising and falling, from time to time he muttered words no one did understand, just to fall silent once again.

   Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had arrived an hour ago, now speaking to Dumbledore in the headmaster's office, and a couple of minutes had passed since Fred and George had dropped on two empty chairs beside Ron's bed, now discussing the Why and How of Ron's unpleasant fate.

   Ember didn't listen. Every now and then feeling Fred's gaze crossing her hardened features, she couldn't take her eyes off of Ron for even the split of a second, still trying to cope with what had happened, pictures flushing her mind like pouring rain, and she had no umbrella to shelter herself from this storm of cruel imagination.

   Unbearable was the thought what might have happened, if Harry hadn't thought of the bezoar. She felt icy shivers on her skin, imagining how this could have ended, if there hadn't been one in the room.

   "We might have to consider our concept of love potions", George grimly said, catching Ember's attention.

   "With considering, I hope you mean you'll take them out of the shelves completely and forever?", Hermione growled, her eyebrows furrowed.

   The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor. 

   "Bin in the forest all day!", he panted. "Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to him — didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout told me abou' Ron! How is he?" 

   "Not bad", said Harry. "They say he'll be okay." 

   "No more than six visitors at a time!", said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office. 

   It was the first time, Ember tore her eyes off of the sleeping ginger, sighing. "It's okay, I'll leave." Getting out of her chair with wobbly knees, she refused to throw another look at Ron.

   "You sure? I can return later", Hagrid said, raising one of his bushy eyebrows, as he threw her a worried gaze.

   "No. No, it's fine. Loads of homework and stuff. Mhm, stuff", Ember mumbled, her eyes fixed on her shaking hands tucking on the sleeves of her hoodie. "I'll see you around ..."

   Rushing out of the room faster than Hagrid had entered it, she took a deep breath and wiped the stinging sensation from her eyes.

   "Emmie!"

   Ember was halfway down the corridor, when she heard her name being called, footsteps fastened behind her, as she refused to slow her speed, and a hand settled on her shoulder, forcing her to stop.

   "Always that hard to catch, are you?"

   Turning around, she looked up into the freckled face of Fred Weasley, who was wearing a weak smile upon his face.

   "Fred, I really have a lot of things up waiting for me, I —"

   "You know you're the worst liar I ever met?", he replied, tilting his head. "Ron will be fine, Emmie. You heard Madame Pomfrey, he'll be alright, and in a couple of days, he'll be all the old little brat we are used to."

   "I know he'll be fine, thank you", she coldly replied, trying to turn around, but he stopped her by placing now both hands on her tensed shoulders.

   "C'mon, what is it then?", Fred asked, his face softened, and Ember's knitted eyebrows parted as her face dropped the icy mask.

   "This will be the future, Fred", she whispered. "This", she gesticulated harshly towards the closed door of the hospital wing, "could happen to anyone of you. Your mum was right last year ... It'll be a miracle if everyone of us gets out of this war alive. And I can't — I just can't ..."

   Next thing she knew she was uncontrollably shaking in Fred's arms, which were tightly wrapped around her.

   "Shh", he tried to calm her, his hand striking over her hair, fondling with her long, raven black strains. "You don't have to, because it's not going to happen", he then said, pulling her closer. "This will be over someday and we'll all be fine. You shouldn't think of anything else."

   "It's a bit hard to believe after what just happened a couple of hours ago, don't you think?" Still in Fred's arms, she mumbled against his chest, not moving an inch out of this comfort.

   "No one is dead", Fred said, looking down upon her.

   "A miracle", Ember replied.

   "As Mum predicted." He burried his hands in her hair. "A miracle. So if one miracle can happen, why do you think there can't be more?"

   Locking eyes with Fred's, Ember blinked at him, lost for words for several seconds.

   "You're unbelievable, you know about that?", she whispered, lightly shaking her head.

   "Incredible was the word you were looking for, sweetheart", he replied, chuckling. "See, love, statistics are working for us. No one of us has been killed yet, have we? We survived a teacher possessed by You-Know-Who, a Basilisk, Dementors ... Chances to get out of this school alive were never that great, but here we are."

   "Oh yes, but we came within a whisker of death. And Sirius ..." Her voice broke, feeling the well known knot tighten in her throat. "Where was his miracle?", she finally breathed, her eyes burning.

   Fred said nothing. He felt her trembling against his body, saw the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, but there were no words he could use to banish that shadow from her thoughts. At least he knew she was right. He knew his mother had been right: there was the greatest sort of miracle needed for all of them to be saved.

   People were dying around them daily, dying for the reason they were alive in a cruel world. Dying for being what they are, dying for being brave, dying for choosing right from wrong.

   But if dying for a chance that Ember Potter was living was an option, Fred would have taken it without thinking twice. That he knew. He perfectly knew.

—