The Healer | Part 2: The War

The Third Floor

Edith

I could immediately tell we were inside when we reappeared. The air was slightly cooler and the shouts and screams had stopped. The silence was practically deafening. I opened my eyes and looked around.

We were on a small, dark landing, there were stairs leading down behind us and a plain wall in front of us. It looked like we were in some sort of abandoned building. Why were there stairs that led to nowhere?

'Where are we?' I asked, looking around for more clues.

'The third floor, Number ninety-three, Diagon Alley, London.' George answered.

As soon as he spoke, a door appeared on the previously empty wall. My mouth dropped open in shock. Fred turned the handle and George pulled me inside before I could say anything about it.

Lights came on when we walked in and Fred shut the door behind us, illuminating what appeared to be a sitting room and kitchen separated by a small kitchen island as well as a corridor with three closed doors, one on either side of the corridor and the other at the end.

As I took it all in, I noticed it was fairly untidy. Wrinkled clothing and crumpled up food wrappers were strewn everywhere and there was a faint smell of body odour.

'That's not your colour, mate,' Fred grinned at George. 'It looked better on Edith.'

I looked at him properly and felt my face flush in embarrassment. His lips, and some of his neck, were the exact same shade of red as the lipstick I had been wearing earlier. It must have been no mystery to Fred what we'd been up to. Even though there were much more pressing matters at hand, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

'What?' George said.

'Crivvens, George,' I produced a tissue with my wand. 'I'm sorry.'

I wiped at his face and showed him the dark red that was coming off of it. I cursed myself for picking such a dark colour. He only grinned wider.

'Why? I'm not,' he reached for my waist.

'What about my face?' I asked him, stepping back. 'Have I got it all over me?'

'No, you look perfect,' he replied.

I felt my heart skip a beat at his comment.

'If I would have known we were bringing dates, I would have grabbed one of the French cousins,' Fred winked at me.

'Sorry?' I asked, my task now complete, I realized I was still a bit disoriented. My ears were still ringing from the chaos we'd just left behind. 'Where are we?'

'Our flat, in Diagon Alley,' George told me. 'The third-floor of our shop.'

'This is your flat?' I asked, looking around at the mess again. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.

'We would have tidied up if we knew we were having company,' Fred grinned.

'Why are we here?' I looked up at George.

'It's the safest place I could think of,' he replied with a shrug.

'Your flat in Diagon Alley?' I asked incredulously. 'Won't this be the first place they come looking for you?'