❝𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄❞
aspen andrews was a worrier, an affectionate older sister, a hard-worker and the proudest hufflepuff you'd ever meet. but up until nine...
DEATH NEVER COMES AT THE RIGHT TIME, DESPITE WHAT MORTALS BELIEVE. DEATH ALWAYS COMES LIKE A THIEF CHRISTOPHER PIKE, THE LAST VAMPIRE
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THE FLAT was pitch black when Aspen's feet landed against the boys' living room carpet that night. It must have been past midnight, and she noted the strong smell of Firewhisky that seemed to linger in the air. One glance at the coffee table confirmed her suspicions. An almost empty bottle perched there, accompanied by two glasses, each containing the final remaining dregs of the honey-coloured liquid.
She kicked her shoes off at the door, padding carefully across the floor until she reached the hallway. She could just hear the noise of George's snoring over the quiet, something he only really did after a few drinks, and she would have found it humorous if the weight of her news wasn't hanging heavily over her chest. Instead, she pushed open the door to Fred's adjacent room, and entered quietly.
To her surprise, he was still awake. His eyes were rimmed red, looking exhausted, but it was clear he'd struggled to fall asleep with the uncertainty of Aspen - and his family's - fate on his mind. When she trudged into the room, his face lit up and he threw back the covers, stumbling across the floor in only his plaid pyjama bottoms to engulf her in a hug.
"You're okay," he said, as if he'd convinced himself she wouldn't be. He released a dense sigh of relief into her hair. "Thank Merlin you're okay. What happened?"
"He's dead," she said numbly, her words muffled against his bare shoulder. "Dumbledore. He's dead."
There was a moment of shocked silence, as if Fred had not heard her correctly. They stood, arms wrapped around one another like some sort of security blanket, and yet neither had felt so exposed in their lives. They had never known a world without Dumbledore, and the prospect of it terrified them both. He was a guaranteed protector in an unsettling world, and without him, fear began to trickle in, like water from a broken tap.
"That's not funny, Aspen," Fred said bluntly, his chin resting against her shoulder. "You don't mean that."
"I do," she said quietly, blinking back tears as the reality began to sink in. "He's gone. Snape killed him."
"Snape?" Fred asked, voice raised in disbelief, and Aspen almost told him to be quiet in fear of waking George. Then, as if common sense was just kicking in, she realised that was not the end of her news, and rather, both twins should be there to hear it after all.
"We need to wake George, love," Aspen said, a lump settling uncomfortably in her throat. "There's something else..."
"What? What else?" Fred asked impatiently, and Aspen reluctantly detached herself from his embrace. He tugged desperately at her hand, needing to know what had happened.
