sorry about the terrible update schedules, college is tearing me up

Ch. 9: Undesirable No. 1

Song For This Chapter: Carried Away — Passion Pit

dedicated to angelicnightmare for the eerie cover she made, love it !

You guys, I keep having dreams in Elle's perspective and it's really getting to me, lol. It's just super weird.

Standing over the worn, well-used sink in Fred and George's flat, I was busy at work tossing raw eggs and sugar into a large mixing bowl, muttering random things to myself as I did. Ingredients, spells, curse words -- who knew for sure? Not me, but that was beside the point.

It has almost been a good month since my sister, Harry Potter, and Ronald Bilius Weasley fled the country. I couldn't manage to keep myself from fighting with Fred for the first week that I'd been trapped in London, abandoned by my sister, so now I was at least attempting to salvage my sanity by baking.

Who knew that I would become such a baker in my old age?

Not I, that was for damn sure.

Grabbing a whisk, I forcefully meshed the ingredients together, letting my mind travel as I did. My thoughts rolled back to the night of the wedding, and the fight that Fred and I had. It was stupid, an idiotic fight where we simply shouted about pirates and accents.

Then, I remembered how I had that run-in with the Death Eaters, and Fred's face when I got back to the shop. Grabbing another egg, I cracked it into the mixture before tossing the shell into the bin beside me.

"You bloody idiot," Fred's face was stern, his arms crossed over his chest with his button-down sleeves pushed up to showcase his exposed forearms. "What are you thinking, going out right now?"

"Have you been working out?" I side-tracked him, delicately taking a slow sip of coffee as the afternoon sun filtered in through the drawn shaded of Weasley's and Weasley's shop. "You look bulkier."

"Bulkier than the last time you saw me, which was last night?" By the distracted look on his face, I could tell I'd dodged a bullet. "Letter, you're not going to distract me with flattery. I know you too bloody well," he sighed, pressing a finger to his temple, but smirking despite himself. "Promise me you will be more careful. Situations have changed."

"I promise, Fred."

We never did talk about our fight, however. And, perhaps there was still things I needed to get off my chest. But, I felt like it didn't matter.

What terrified me the most wasn't the fact that Death Eaters were beginning to round-up Muggle Borne people. What scared me was the fact that I felt as if I couldn't talk to the person that a fiancée should be able to talk to most. I felt as if what I wanted didn't matter, and that severely pissed me off.

'I'll get over it,' I reminded myself, whisking my batter a tad bit too fast, causing dough to fly out of the bowl and splatter against the counter, wall, and stove-top leaving gooey trails of brownie batter dripping from various furniture.

Sighing, I flicked my wand at the mess to clean it up as I propped open the rusty cabinet doors, in search of much needed baking powder. Being too short to properly search, I hoisted myself up onto the counter-top muttering under my breath the longer I searched, finding the cabinet completely baking powder free.

"What the hell? I know they have it," I groaned, tossing cartons of random ingredients and useless spices out behind my shoulder, absent-mindedly. Shoving everything aside, I still hadn't found the powder. "We just had some!"

"Yeah, we did," Blake's head popped up beside my shoulder, her blue eyes peering up at my flustered face as I stopped tossing things out of my way. "And then you used it all up the other day on a batch of cookies, remember?"

"No, I didn't make cook—"

"—yes you did," Blake cut me off with a pointed glance. I followed her gaze to the opposite counter where a tub of various cookies sat, practically untouched.

'Huh... don't remember doing that...'

"You're making so many sweets that George and Fred have begun selling them in the shop. By the way, your lemon squares are apparently a big hit — so, keep that up."

"What!?"

"George's words, not mine."

It was quiet then, with Blake peering up at me and my body slumped awkwardly on the kitchen counter, one hand resting inside the cabinet while another was resting on my knee. I began to feel awkward at this height, and decided that it would probably be best if I got down.

My ankles ached as my feet met the ground, causing me to groan in a wince of pain as I rolled them out. All the while, Blake watched me with a brow quirked up her face, seemingly amused. "I need to go get baking powder."

"No you don't." She maneuvered around me, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie from the giant pile. As she did, I stared at the mound with repressed hatred and confusion. 'When the hell did I make you?!' It was a missing time, and I couldn't believe that I simply have been in robot stage for a time.

Frowning, I grabbed a large jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on over my shoulders. The long sleeves fell a large distance past my hands and it sagged on my torso, emphasizing that this overcoat was Fred's. I breathed in his scent with a quick smile, but allowed it to flicker off my lips as an emptiness filled my stomach.

"Elle, really," Blake paused in her munching, crumbs staining the corner of her lips as they formed a plump frown at my figure. "You shouldn't go out. I'm all for crazy acts of rebellion, you know, but it's a shit show out today! High patrol, I've seen two or three DE's pass the shop already."

Ignoring her words, I tucked back the cascading fabric until my petite hands could be seen, rolling up the sleeves well past my forearm before deciding it was enough. Teetering to the front door of the flat, I clumsily slipped my feet into my thick-soled boots, all the while feeling Blake's glare hot on my back.

After a moment of my breathing and Blake's chewing filling the silence, she finally finished her cookie and heaved out a sigh of indignation. Craning my head around to peer at my friend, I found that she was sporting a look that I knew all too well.

It was the face that read 'I'm going to probably regret this'.

"Okay, well, if you're going out then I'd best come along with you," Blake trudged to the door beside me, quickly pulling a sweater over her head, before I could protest, "I've got status, and you're going to need my last name if you get into a tight spot out there."

Watching as Blake tucked her mess of chocolate curls into a spooled bun, I called her out on her bullshit with a tight squint. "Isn't your family con-blood status? Like . . . blood traitors, or however they are called?"

"Details, details." Blake opened the door to the flat and stuck her head into the shop, scanning for any sight of the twins. This was a covert operation, of course. "Hey, Elle . . . didn't you promise Fred to be more careful?"

"Details, details."

✧

"Extra, extra! Read all about it!" A vender in the street shouted loudly, his plumed hat swaying as he tossed papers about faster than sickles were being thrown back at him. "Traitorous Harry Potter's got a price on his head, he does!"

Blake spared me a small glance as we shuffled past the crowd. I couldn't believe the paper vender actually said those words. It wasn't something I had ever thought people said in real life, and, while I wanted to laugh it off, I couldn't find my will to laugh.

"The extra paper is fresh off the press 'is mornin'! Daily Prophet tells all! Potter killed Dumbledore? Read all about it, only five sickles!"

Those words pierced me. Swallowing the rising bile in my throat, I pushed through the crowd of people surrounding the man and linked arms with Blake, so I wouldn't lose her as we made our way to the shop that sold edible products and cooking ingredients.

Once inside the grocery shop, it felt as if I was finally able to breathe fresh air. There was a significantly low amount of people in the store compared to the street, and I was grateful that Blake and I could practically be alone for the time being.

"I told you it was a shit carnival out there today," Blake muttered quietly to me as she brushed a light downy of rainfall from her shoulders. It was misting today; I guess we were lucky that it was a simple drizzle and nothing more. For October, the weather was still fairly nice.

"Yeah, well," I sighed, adjusting my hair as we started to walk through the shop, scanning the items on shelves, "what are you gonna do?"

Being perfectly frank, I didn't want to talk about the terrible atmosphere of the world. It felt better to ignore everything and just go about life as usual. There would be a time to fight, but that time wasn't now.

There was malice in the back of Blake's sharp gaze, but she quickly masked it over with a faux smile and agreeable nod. "You're right, of course." As we walked down the few shelves, and I grabbed the much needed baking powder, along with more supplies to make more lemon squares. I could feel the storm inside Blake brewing.

However, though I awaited for her initial explosion, she remained calm as I finished gathering all my materials, not mentioning a word until we were alone in an isle all of our own. As soon as a sigh of exhaled air left Blake's lips, I knew she was going to let me have it — whatever it might be.

"What are 'you' gonna do?!"

My stomach sunk. "Blake, look, —"

"No, no, tell me, Elle. What the bloody hell do you think I do every day? You think I simply work at St. Mungo's, caring for people that accidentally get a magical toaster stuck on their genitals? Because, while yes there was that one, hilarious instance, I do other things as well." Her blue eyes swam. "You only hear about the atrocities that have been reported in the paper, Liza. I've seen them with my own eyes. Muggles so badly cursed that they are lucky if they will ever speak again; witches burned for standing against a raid on a Muggle-born neighbor."

Taking a gasp of air, Blake cleared her throat and tucked a fringe of hair behind her ear, swallowing a rising bile in her throat. Meanwhile, I didn't know what to say. "So, Liza, you tell me 'what are you gonna do?', well I'm going to throw that bloody question back at you. Elizabeth Rose Weasley, what are you going to do?"

Clutching my hand-bag of items close to me, I felt as if my only emotion that I could resort to was anger. "Blake, it's not that simple. I wanted to do something! I wanted to help Ha—," 'don't say his name', I reminded myself, just in time, "—him. Fred and Hermione turned against me, and that's why I can't do anything."

Blake grinned at that, which was completely confusing and tossed my train of thought off the rail. "Liza, you're so daft sometimes."

"Hey! Am not, why are you so freaking happy all the sudden?!"

She laughed and shook her head as we moved from our abandoned isle, towards the witch waiting at the purchasing table, casually flipping through a book. "You think that there's nothing you can do if you're stuck at the home front, and not in the midst of a battle," she whispered with a soft smile, lips curling up at some thought that evaded me, "but there's plenty you can do."

"Care to share?" I murmured back at her, laying down a couple Knuts and a Sickle as the lady told me the price, focusing all my attention on my crazy friend who somehow was able to jump from anger to joy to sadness all in a matter of minutes.

I thanked the absent-minded witch and gathered my bag of groceries, barely noticing as Blake linked arms with me, a wide smile on her lips. Outside, the light drizzle had become a down-pouring nightmare. Dark clouds loomed menacingly over head.

"Velamentus," I casted, watching with a small delight as a yellow-topped umbrella sprouted from the tip of my wand, sprouting large enough for three people, comfortably. I always enjoyed umbrellas, and it felt nice to use this charm, despite the darkness growing over London. "It seems the storm has finally come, Hagrid, after all this time." I just wondered if we were prepared.

"What was that?" Blake quipped, arching a brow as she tried to figure out what I had said to myself.

"Just talking to myself," there was a shrug to my tone as we stepped into Diagon Alley.

"That's my line!" Blake elbowed me, but cleared her throat with a new gleam to her eye. "Volunteering."

"Huh?"

"That's what you are 'gonna do'. Come volunteer at St. Mungos," Blake watched her boot-clad feet as we walked, chocolate bun bouncing on the nape of her neck, "come help in the way that only we can; don't stay home and feel sorry for yourself."

If anyone other than her had said those words to me, had called me out on playing the victim, I would probably have back fired with an insult even greater than that. But, this was Blake. And, Blake wasn't attempting to jab at my pride; she was offering me a way out.

Water seeped into the soles of my boots, and I bundled myself deeper into Fred's coat with a genuine smile, one that had been vacant from my face for far too long. "Thank you, Blake. I'll definitely do that, but, I'll need to tell Fred that I'm doing it. He needs to know that he can't stop me."

"Trust me, Liza," Blake snickered, "he already knows that. But, you're right. You guys have been at odds for a while now, and it's beginning to worry Georgie and I."

With a chuckle, I clutched my heart. "Awe, you're worried about dear ol' me?"

"No," Blake shook her head, "I'm worried for George. George is worried for his other half, and, Fred is worried for dear ol' you."

"Wow. Thank you, Blake. Why don't you tell me how you really feel."

Blake gripped my arm and yanked me back. Before I could even mutter a 'what the hell?', she tossed me into a tiny, vein-like alley way that branched off into a small alcove of abandoned stores and buildings. Quickly, she pushed me in farther, pushing herself and me against the wall while shushing me, eyes wide with fright.

I could feel my chest pounding with the beating of my erratic heart. Clearly, Blake had seen something that frightened her, and I was too curious to know what it was. Keeping my breathing to a hushed roar, I peeked towards the archway of the branched off alley, waiting as a figure began to pass.

As soon as a blob of atrocious color passed my sight, I knew why Blake looked as if she was going to be sick, but also as if she was ready to pull some punches. Dolores Umbridge, the she-devil herself, was daintily humming to herself as she tottered past our strangled hiding place. I felt as if I too was going to be ill; the very sight of that woman made my stomach churn.

Blake held me back as the devil passed, making sure I didn't do anything rash. While I part of me felt that it was unnecessary, a large portion of my brain was grateful. There was nothing more than I wanted in that moment than to make the toad croak.

It was a few minutes after the figure had passed when Blake finally released my arm. I hadn't realized how tight her grip had been until she let me go, leaving a throbbing pain on my forearm. Tenderly, I rubbed at the sore spot while Blake apologized.

"Liza," Blake's voice was hoarse, causing me to tear my eyes from my bruised arm to her tear-filled eyes, "I'm sorry for the bruise. It's just, that woman, she's the one who is ordering the rounding up of Muggle-born people, and . . . she's sending them to Azkaban, Liza." Blake glared down at her hands. "That's why Fred wants you to keep out of sight. We don't want you to get arrested."

I had heard about this before, but that had been drunken talk from Death Eater scumbags. To think that the Evil had spread so quickly in just a month's time from that day . . . it was ridiculous, and horrifying.

"We should get you back to the shop," Blake sighed, breathing in fresh air as she let her worried expression transform back into a calmed one once more, "I have a shift soon, and it's going to be night time in a little while."

✧

LANA'S POV:

Since when had Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into simply Dark Arts? I couldn't entirely remember that change to the schedule, or the curriculum for that matter, but, these fuck-heads seemed to think that their class was the latter.

Standing in front of the class, the dip-shit twins Alecto and Amycus Carrow were babbling on about the useful nature of being able to have an extensive knowledge of torture curses and jinxes. Why was Alecto even here? The squatty, troll of a woman was the teacher of 'Muggle Studies'; she was clearly here to watch students get tortured.

Sitting beside me, I felt Jenna clutch my hand tightly under the table. I squeezed her hand, reassuringly. We both had known what coming back this year would mean. However, I don't think anyone really had believed Death Eaters would be the professors.

Part of me felt grateful, in a twisted sense of the word, that Amycus was simply talking about his favorite curses to use, describing the effects they had on his victims, and not using them. For now, everyone was safe, but I couldn't be sure for how long.

"Now that I have listed a few of my personal favorites," Amycus hissed with a sickening smile, "let's have a volunteer pair, yes?" He let out a wheezy giggle, one that chilled me to the bone. There was no such thing as a 'volunteer pair' in this class. He would simply force those he desired to see hurt to go up in front of the class.

"Brother, allow me to chose the first student," Alecto sneered with an excited glint in her eyes.

Amycus's toothy grin unnerved me, and it made my stomach churn. "Dear sister, of course I will allow you to; however, I must ask," the playful tone he was sporting made me sick, "what has become of your Muggle Studies class?" The way he made Muggle sound like a dirty word left a bad taste in my mouth.

"I permitted the Harvard girl to take over that class for today; she was boring me with her incessant stares and quiet nature." The Death Eater's words perked up something inside my nature, the name, perhaps. Under her breath, Alecto muttered: "Sometimes I'd like to carve that pretty little, smug face of hers."

Frowning, I glanced at Jenna. As part of me suspected, she was watching me with her crystal blue eyes wide. We knew that name, but for the life of me, I couldn't place it. In the end of it, I guess it doesn't really matter, especially not when a bony finger was pointed at one of my best friends.

"The pretty blonde one, there," Alecto wheezed out, "how about you as our first volunteer."

There was a hush of silence as Jenna quickly let go of my hand, and the merged groups of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor all turned their shallow eyes onto her and then myself, as I was sure that my face was quickly become a fuming shade of violent red.

I latched onto Jenna's fingers, keeping her in her stool. "Stop."

"Lana," Jenna flashed me a wavering smile, "let go." She leant in close to my ear and whispered lowly and she stood up once more. "If you make a scene, they'll only go after you. I'll be fine."

"No!" I shouted, glaring at the ugly face of the Death Eater that was meaning to hurt Jenna. "Encule toi salope; you think I'm going to let you hurt my friends?!" I shook off Jenna's furious glare and kicked out my stood behind me as I jumped to my feet. The echoing clatter vibrated throughout the lecture room.

Alecto's dumb-struck face was the only thing that gave me a spark of courage, and I stood tall, pushing Jenna slightly behind me.

"Fine, you little fool," the woman hissed, and from the expression on her face, I could tell that she was still attempting to figure out what I had called her in French. "You shall be our volunteer, get up here. Now!" The shriek in her tone was shrill and cut against my ear drums while Jenna tried to amend the situation, but nothing she could say would help my case — just as I wanted.

'Encule toi salope,' I smirked to myself. Yeah, I meant that phrase with all my heart — or, in English, a rough version of 'fuck you, bitch'. A piece of my more logical brain was more than delighted that she was too stupid to know when she was being vulgarly insulted.

Amycus, who had been watching from the sidelines decided to direct the class's attention with his usual question. A question of which no one ever responded to. "And, who will be practicing our new curses on our lucky volunteer?"

"I will."

'That's a new one . . .', I couldn't help but think to myself as I turned to look at the seventh year Gryffindor that had suddenly an overwhelming need to attack me. No one ever volunteered to inflict pain, just as no one wanted to be inflicted upon.

Amycus and Alecto seemed remarkably shocked by this statement, but each grinned a vile smile as they agreed with the boy. "All righty then," Amycus coughed, clearing the building mucus in his throat — making me cringe with disgust, "and, what's the name of our eager volunteer?"

"Seamus Finnigan, Gryffindor Seventh Year."

Seamus met my gaze and I made sure my eyes were as hard as stone. Staring him down, I tried to figure out the man's game, but he wasn't offering any suggestions.

"Well, what chu' waiting for?" Alecto prodded, motioning Finnigan forward with a blatant air of impatience. "Get on with it, then."

I watched from my spot, still standing in front of Jenna, as Seamus nodded to the professors and pointed his wand at me. Swallowing my resolve, I braced myself for the pain. I was happy Finnigan was the one to take charge, instead of watching as a second year was beat down for refusing to participate; it happened the last time.

"Titillando!" Seamus shouted and I forced my hazel eyes open from surprise as purple, hand-shaped ribbons of light wrapped around my body, feather-dust light fingers tickling me until I began to giggle uncontrollably.

Now I saw Seamus's game. Between my fits of laughter as the fingers continued to attack me, I remembered just how smart Finnigan could be, even if he managed to explode things.

"What do you think you're doing? Tickling is not a torture! Do a different charm, or you shall be punished!"

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes from laughing too hard, but my laughter stopped when I watched as Amycus threw a heavy-handed punch into Seamus's gut, causing the boy to double over in pain, and in turn, causing the tickling charm to cease.

"Don't you know the meaning of 'or', you ass-hats?!" I shouted towards the fugly siblings while Seamus struggled to regain his breathing. Instead of responding, Alecto simply swiped her wand in my direction. Red hot pain ignited across my collarbone, and as I reached out a hand to grasp the hurt flesh, I found sticky, warm blood. She'd cut me.

Seamus's voice came out with a wheeze, "Tarantalle...gra ," he coughed, yet there was still a glint of a smile on his face. My legs to began dancing uncontrollably, and I could feel the fear of the class tripling the more Seamus drew the wrath of the Carrow siblings onto himself.

"Detention! Both of you!" Alecto screeched, digging her claws into Seamus's scalp and tugging at the roots of his hair as I continued to dance. "You think this is a bloody game?!"

Thawmp! She nailed Seamus in the gut once more, then again for added measure. The class watched in horror as Seamus sputtered and hacked, gurgling up some blood and spit as the Death Eater dropped him to the ground.

"Seamus, are you all right?" I pleaded, feeling my muscles give out at the jinx was lifted. He offered no response at first, but, after a moment or so, a shaky 'thumbs-up' was tossed my way, followed by a blood-coated smile as he turned his head on the stone cobbles.

"Why are you doing this?! It's monstrous!" Jenna shouted, tears in her eyes as she jabbed an accusatory finger at the devils leading the classroom.

"Why?" Amycus repeated, elbowing his sister, as if it was all a bit joke. "Why? she asks. Because you pure wizards need to know how to defend yourselves against the nasty Mud-Bloods who seem to have found ways of rising up in our World. They are going to attack us someday soon, and why let them have the advantage?"

"He's right," Alecto nodded. "Don't you children see? We are simply trying to help prepare you. There's a war coming, if we all are not careful. Plus," the demon witch grinned, yellowed teeth peaking behind her lips, "it's fun."

✧

ELLE'S POV:

By the time I had returned to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the sun was already setting. There weren't any customers in the shop, and I found that the Twins had begun shutting the store down earlier, before nightfall, every day.

I didn't let that unnerve me, however. I had a a lot of things in my mind that could have unnerved me, like seeing Umbridge this afternoon, or whether Jenna and Lana were safe. There were all kinds of horrific rumors floating around about the state of Hogwarts, but I was not sure if I could let myself believe them.

So, instead, I allowed myself to think on positive things. I thought about Blake's suggestion: volunteering at St. Mungo's, and it had a nice ring to it. I knew I couldn't simply mope around all day anymore; the world was worse off than ever, and I needed to do something or I would go stir-crazy.

Sighing, I shouldered my bag of items and stalked up the stairs to the loft, gradually taking my time. There was no rush any way. There was more I need to think about. Fred wanted me to be safe; he was risking a lot to keep me away from Death Eaters and the Ministry, more than he would let on.

Perhaps I was being a bit ungrateful. I made a mental note to thank him for his dedication to keeping under the radar this whole time. He was doing it for me, despite everything. And, most importantly, I didn't want to fight any more.

I was almost to the door of the flat when I heard a few voices talking to each other in low, hushed tones. Creeping towards the door, I slowly pressed my ear to the wooden frame and shallowed my breathing, so I could listen better.

A less than familiar voice met my ears, and I tried to figure out who the owner of it was as it continued to ramble on. "Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back," the words took a few moments to process in my mind, but when they did, I couldn't quite make sense of them. "Keep twiddling those dials:," I pushed open the door, kicking my way in, without the slightest care about whether I was ruining their conversation or not.

What I found was probably not the last thing I had expected, but, it was definitely a surprisingly infuriating sight to see Lee Jordan, George Weasley, and Frederick Fucking Weasley all gathered around a hunk-o-junk radio, all wands drawn as Lee uttered the last couple sentences, doing his best to ignore my intrusion. "The next password will be 'Dearborn'. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night."

"What the hell are you thinking?!"

What do you think of my using gifs in the story telling?

Annoying? Distracting? Or, do you like it?

Author's Note: you guys, I have decided that once I finish the Hermione's Twin series... I'm going to disappear for a while. I really need a break from this account, from fanfic in general. While I love doing it, I honestly know deep down that it's pointless.

I'm getting too old for this shit, guys.

I want to work on my original books.

So, I'll be on a semi-perminant hiatus, but I don't know for how long.

you guys probably don't care: this book is just starting [!], but I felt like I should let you know anyway. Just so you're aware.

On better news: here's the song featured in this chapter. it has always (always) and will always be the song of which I think of Fred and Elle's relationship. Watch it and love it.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

lots of love, jess <3