Magic? || Years 5-7

Anger and Bargaining: Year 6/Summer

Petals clinked against the glass as they fell, one after the other until only one, tauntingly bright yellow rose petal clung to the stem. It had been happening for days now, steadily, each petal falling another terrible reminder.

Amisty lay on her bed, glaring at the stupid thing and fingering her wand impatiently. She couldn't shatter the damn thing, no matter how hard she tried. It was mostly Ginny's doing. The redhead had convinced Mr. Weasley to cast several intense protection charms on it until it was practically spell-proof.

She knew it was better off that way in the long run. The second she did shatter it, she'd probably cry again.

"Alright, this is pathetic," George knocked on the door frame and then leaned against it. "C'mon, get up."

"I'm not in the mood, George," Amisty grumbled, turning away from him.

Grimmauld Place was no longer safe after Sirius's death. With the Pureblood magic there they house practically kicked them out, not to mention the threat of Bellatrix Lestrange deciding that with her cousin dead she was the rightful heir to the property. Harry was still stuck at Privet Drive, so they had no way to test to see if it was worth the risk. For now, the Weasleys were living as peacefully as they could manage at the Burrow.

Amisty rarely left Ginny's room unless her friends joined forces and dragged her out for meals. Well, that was a lie. She did spend an awful lot of time outside channeling her anger and frustration into learning new tricks with her shifting. So far, she'd mastered midair transformations and was in the process of changing halfway through a sprint. It was therapeutic, in a way. Even if it was beyond frustrating and left her in an even worse mood if she hadn't accomplished anything. Often times Ron or even Mrs. Weasley would have to go out in the darkness of the night and take her back inside before she passed out trying to perfect something that just wasn't going to happen in a day.

"Don't care," George replied, waltzing in the room and throwing her over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm serious, George, just put me down," She hit his back half-heartedly as he carried her down the stairs. "I was perfectly fine sulking -- "

"Sucks for you," He replied cheerfully, waving to his mother as he pushed through the door to the backyard. "We're going to have fun."

"I've already done training today," She scowled as he set her down, turning on her heel and stomping back up to the house.

"And training's no fun, not really," George grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back in front of him. "So we're gonna have real fun. Right now."

"George -- "

"Amisty River, you have been sitting in that damn room for the past month doing nothing but moping," George cut her off. "So, I'm here to try and get at least one smile out of you, maybe a laugh."

"Good luck," Amisty snorted, kicking at the dirt.

"I appreciate the sentiment," He replied, unaffected by her attitude. "Alright, let's go."

"You're not even supposed to be here," Amisty retorted. "Don't you have a shop to run?"

"I own half the shop," George waved his hand airily. "I can take a vacation when I want to."

Amisty glared at him. He beamed in return.

"Fine," She sighed.

"Walk with me" George spread his arms dramatically and it took all of Amisty's self-control not to wipe his smirk off his face as she trailed after him.

"If your idea of fun is just wandering around your backyard - " Amisty sneered.

"Nope," George cut her off and pulled her along. "We're gonna go as far out as the security spells let us, and then we're going to scream and shout every obscenity and curse and angry thought at the top of our lungs."