THE NIGHT WE MET • GEORGE WEASLEY

PROLOGUE

17 September 1996

"I need a place to stay where I can cover up my face."

Rose.

Rose, and a second name that started with an 'N.' Or maybe a 'W,' she wasn't fully sure. 'Rose' was all she could remember.

All Rose really knew anymore was her own name. She couldn't tell you the number on her house, or the name of her first pet, or about the first scar she ever got. She could only tell you her name, and she could tell you about her new scars. There were a lot of them.

There were two on her right shoulder, crossed over each other in a jagged 'X' that marked her like a target.

There was one that ran up the side of her left thigh, but angled itself into her hip.

Rose's personal favorite was one that ran from the base of her neck, over her collarbone, and towards where her arm met her torso.

She liked it because Remus had one that looked almost identical.

Since being rescued, Rose's safety had been entrusted to the gentle hands of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.

The couple were currently taking refuge in an old, crickety home that they called "Grimmauld Place." It was dark and dusty, though Rose had taken to making it more homely in her ample free time. Her room, especially, held a warmth that much of the house did not.

Tonk and Remus both enjoyed her mini home remodels, and had insisted she begin spreading it more into the house. Rose had instantly agreed. First, she'd reorganized the kitchen, thrown out old, broken furniture, and added nice lights and little plants that Remus had gotten for her to decorate with.

Call her strange, but Rose couldn't help but feel comfortable with the aging werewolf. When she had asked about his own scars, barely a week into staying with him and Tonks, he had admitted to his condition and reassured her that he wouldn't hurt her, but said he understood if she wished to switch to staying with someone else. Rose had immediately called him ridiculous and insisted on staying.

"I think you and Tonks are the only two I can trust right now," she had admitted. The couple made her feel nothing short of safe, and that was all she really asked for these days.

She would admit, though, that they were terrible at knocking.

Rose stood in front of her temporary bedroom's mirror, almost finished getting dressed, save the patterned sweater that was laid at the end of the bed behind her. The sweater had once belonged to Remus, but after insisting on helping around the house as a thank you, she had shrunk it perfectly to her own size in a dryer mishap.

The girl studied her reflection. She was as nicely dressed as she could be, considering most of her wardrobe came from a 30-something-year-old werewolf and a funky, 23-year old witch. One of Tonk's old skirts, a dark gray pleated one from her school days that had been shortened for Rose, covered sheer black tights. The tights somewhat covered the scars on her legs, though the larger, paler ones still shone through. A pair of gray, wool socks were layered on her feet, and some of Tonk's old boots stood next to the mirror to be worn.

On her top half, she currently only wore a white, lacey bralette, stuck staring at the uncovered scars. She ran a hand across her collarbone, tracing one there, and trying to recall exactly how she'd gotten that one. It was the manor, for sure - Rose swore she could feel the dark magic festering just beneath her skin - but no specific moment came to mind.

Lost in her own thoughts, Rose missed the footsteps coming towards her bedroom, and the beginning of a sentence as Remus twisted the doorknob. "Rose, everyone will be here soon, are you-"

Rose yelped once she realized Remus had opened her door. He quickly covered his eyes with his hand, apologizing profusely, but the girl, now clutching the sweater to her chest, was already pushing him out the door.

Once he was on the other side, the door was slammed shut. Rose leaned against it, sighing as her head dropped backwards.

A light knock sounded right next to her head, and Remus called gently through the door. "Rose?"

After slipping the sweater over her head, hiding her scars, she cracked the door open, peaking out.

"Finally learned to knock, have you?" she asked with a playful smile.

Remus smiled a bit, too. "Shut up. People will be here soon. Tonks sent me to grab you."

"Alright, I'll come down now." Rose stepped backwards into the room, leaving the door open. She reached for the boots sitting on the floor, and sat on the bed as she began to pull them on. Remus stood in the threshold of the room, leaning against the door frame.

"You know, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Rose stilled, not making eye contact, though she could feel Remus' eyes boring into the side of her head. Trying to play off the panic, she resumed lacing up the boots, replying quickly. "I want to help however I can."

Remus sighed and moved into the room, sitting down on the bed next to the girl as she finished tying her shoes.

"I know," he said, "but these wounds are still fresh. It's okay if you're not ready."

Steeling herself, Rose finally lifted her head to meet Remus' eyes. "I am ready."

Remus smiled softly. "Let's go then."

The two stood up from the bed, and Remus made his way to the door.

Rose glanced back at the mirror one last time. Despite the shrinkage, the sweater still hung a bit loose around her. One could easily attribute that to the unnatural thinness of the teenage girl. When she had been saved, she was dangerously skinny, practically starving. Once safe, she only had to make the mistake of overeating - which left her sitting with her face in a toilet full of her day's meals - once. Since then, she'd paced herself, and she was slowly regaining her health, though she was still lighter than what she once had been.

"Rose?" Remus called one last time.

"Coming!" she replied, though not without a final glance at the scar that just peaked out of the top of her sweater.

She prayed to whoever was listening that no one would see through her cracks.