Wanna Be Saved

- FIFTEEN -

Chapter Fifteen
Night Terrors

Bronwyn had always found her four poster bed in the dorm to be a place of comfort. The first night she had laid upon it, as a much smaller eleven year old, she had found herself finally enjoy the peace and comfort a bed should provide. Bronwyn didn't want to hold things so trivial such as an old shotty mattress against her parents, but part of her did. Part of her could not even come to the understanding that something as simple as a mattress would show just how difficult things were back home. How difficult things were with a household of nine, when there just wasn't the funds to do the things they wanted to do. 

That was all about to change, unfortunately for the oldest Weasley daughter. She would be awoken from her deep slumber by a gentle but strong shake on her right shoulder. She would turn herself over from the prone position she had settled in during the night and come to see the light pink nightgown of her head of house. Bronwyn blinked once, twice, three times before coming to realise that this was not just a strange section of her dream. That she was indeed being awoken by her head of house in the middle of the night, if Lavender's snores were a clear giveaway, and something must have been wrong for her to be woken. 

"Bronwyn, you need to come with me." Professor McGonagall spoke gently, quiet enough to not wake the other girls but there was urgency in her tone. Urgency that it was enough to ensure that Bronwyn understood her message. Something terrible had happened. 

Bronwyn was not stupid, she had been clued into much of what her older family members were up to as part of the Order. She had eavesdropped on enough of the meetings to know exactly what dangers were out there and just what involvement some of her family members had. But she wasn't exactly sure on the specifics and her head panicked as to which one was injured, she couldn't bring herself to think of anything but one of them being injured. 

"Yes Professor." Bronwyn responded, her voice hoarse and scratch from sleep as she sat herself up, looking for her slippers and dressing gown so that she could enter the cold sharp atmosphere of the room outside of her bed. 

The pair creeped their way out of Bronwyn's room and down the corridor to the room which belonged to the fourth year girls, her younger sister's dorm room. She watched as the professor snuck her way into the younger girls dorm and returned a few minutes later with an equally confused Ginny trailing slightly behind her. Ginny was a much heavier sleeper than Bronwyn was, and therefore she knew it was a much harder task to wake the youngest Weasley up. Fred and George were waiting for the sisters at the bottom of the stairs alongside, surprisingly Harry. The older brothers, always the protectors, were quick to make their way over to the sisters, splitting themselves up so they could be there for each sister. They too had clearly made the connection with the ongoings in the outside world and the sudden awakening overnight. 

McGonagall's office had never felt so cold as the group of five sat around the room. Fred had stuck with Ginny providing the youngest with comfort. George had glued himself to Bronwyn's side ensuring to keep distance between the girl and Harry, aware of the ongoing feud. Especially, when it came to just how they had been alerted of the news of their father's poor health following a mission gone wrong. 

Travelling back to 12 Grimmauld Place felt especially wrong. Bronwyn could not understand how this was supposed to be the place they would all meet as a family to find comfort as they awaited news on their father's condition. This was not home, this place provided no comfort. And Bronwyn, felt numb. 

Her fingers bounced off the porcelain of the mug she had been holding. The contents inside had long since gone cold. Her knees bounced as she sat there anxiously awaiting any form of news. Tonks with her bright pink hair sat opposite attempting to distract the minds of the six children who had gathered as they waited for any kind of news. But she was not doing an amazing job. Something the witch would admit to herself. But that would be long forgotten when a hurry of ginger hair passed through the front door and directly to the living room where the children were waiting. 

"Your father will be okay." As soon as the words passed through her mother's lips it was as if the atmosphere in the room changed. Things seemed all of a sudden much cheerier and a weight lifted.