These Hallowed Halls

Fred

She'd been at Muriels for nine days before anyone comes to visit her.

"They're fine," Muriel kept saying, every time she saw Audra glance towards the window for an owl during dinner or she started looking at all the fine china lining the walls like she wants to smash it.  "I promise, Audra, they're all alright.  I would know if they weren't."

Audra doesn't want to be ungrateful, but that hadn't stopped her from not accepting her reassurances, either.  She knows how easy it can be to make someone hurt without anyone knowing how much pain they were in, how simple it can be to change every fundamental thing about a person without even their closest family members being able to notice that something inside them had shifted and snapped.  It's amazing, what can be done with a wand and a little bit of creativity, if you didn't mind the screams.

"I know," She had said, each and every time that Muriel had tried to tell her that everything was fine, knotting her fingers in the table cloth or tapping at the glass of the china cabinets until Muriel rapped her about the shins with her cane.  "I would know if they weren't."

You would think so, Muriel had said, the last time they had gone through the script.  They had been sitting in the living room, Muriel sunk back into one of the chairs with exhaustion biting deep into the lines of her face and Audra pouring them tea that neither of them would drink, listening to the official ministry report about the raid on the Weasley wedding.  It was mostly crap, but there was a few good bits of information- Mr. Weasley returned to work, the shop was still open for business, Mrs. Weasley, as usual, declined all comment.  I thought that, too, that I would know somehow, if something would happen to him.  But you don't.  There's no magic for that, no matter how much you love each other. 

It doesn't make you special, how much you care about him.  Muriel had reached out to her, put her own hand in Audra's even when she was trying to pull away.  It's just going to make you hurt.

"Audra?"  Audra's starts in her place at the window seat, the book she was reading sliding from her lap and falling to the floor.  Muriel had given her the room at the highest end of the house.  It was meant to give Audra enough space to call her own and also to help Muriel avoid going up the stairs as much as possible, but it also gave her the added affect of being able to see down over the hill, the perfect defensive position for a look out.  "Audra, someone's hear to see you!"

It frightened her, even though she had known from seeing the death eaters pacing at the ward lines that no one was able to come anywhere close to the house without being in on the secret keeper charm.  There was something unsettling about knowing that even if there was no way for them to reach her, they all knew exactly where she was at.  It's like the fish at the aquarium that everyone bothers despite the sign saying not to touch the glass.

"For me?  Who is it, Muriel?"  She took the steps two at a time and jumped over the last three, wand in hand, the impact of her footsteps making the plates lining the wall rattle in their stands.  Fast and defensive was the only way Audra walks anywhere, anymore, even around the house, no matter how many times Muriel had begged her to lighten her steps, claiming that she was going to crack all of her glassware if she kept trampling around like an elephant.

"Muriel?"  She called again, rounding the corner, and then stopped dead.  "Fred."

"Hey."  He's wearing jeans with a hole worn through in the knee and a tattered flannel that had been through the wash too many times, and there was a tightness about his face that hadn't been there at the wedding, like he had lost a noticeable amount of weight since she last saw him, and it sends a pang through her, that they had been apart long enough for her to be able to notice all these little changes.  But still, it's him, and he's here, and he's holding out his arms so she can run into them, like he's strong enough to hold her up if she wants to fall apart.  "You miss me?"