the hallows - f. weasley

- c h a p t e r - t e n -

 Gemma slept all of four hours, and when she woke up–she silently worked herself through a panic attack after a nightmare.

She had dreamed she was running through Hogwarts–the walls torn down and bodies were everywhere. Her lungs were burning from smoke and dust, but she had to get to someone. Someone important enough that her throat was raw from screaming. But it was like she was running through molasses, and everything around her was moving in real-time.

But she continued to silently scream at someone until a pile of rubble that belonged to a wall and part of a roof focused in her vision.

And underneath the rocks, glass, and metal debris–

She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't get the nightmare out of her head.

It had been Fred.

His face was bruised and bloodied–part of his cheekbone caved in as his empty eyes stared at her while his siblings stood around him, weeping and screaming his name.

Gemma flinched violently as she walked with Harry under the Invisibility Cloak.

They were supposed to be getting food from a nearby market town they had Disapparated to about a half hour before.

The four had decided that it was best not to stay in the same place for very long–but they travelled only enough to get them into a new area and not drain Ron of all energy.

Hermione and Ron had stayed put at the campsite while Harry and Gemma offered to go into town to get food. However, the quick trip into town wearing the Invisibility Cloak turned into Gemma and Harry coming back immediately–the former nearly as pale as snow and weak as a newborn lamb.

Harry helped her sit in the chair inside the tent, and he explained to Hermione and Ron that the two of them couldn't even cast Patronus Charms when a few Dementors had grown closer to them in the crowd of Muggles.

Gemma held her head in her hands–trying to banish her dad's screams from her head and trying not to dwell on the frigidness that had set into her bones the second the Dementors had grown closer to her and Harry.

"But you guys can make brilliant Patronuses!" Ron cried–looking between the two in astonishment.

"We couldn't...make one," Harry panted–leaning on the chair Gemma was hunched over in. "Wouldn't...come."

"So we still haven't got any food."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione shot back at the ginger boy. After casting a glance at Gemma's prone body, she asked quieter, "Harry, what happened? Why do you think you both couldn't make your Patronuses? You both managed perfectly yesterday!"

"I don't know."

Gemma ran her hands through her hair–sitting back in the armchair as Harry sank into another one, looking particularly put out.

She flinched, though, and glowered at Ron when he kicked a chair and snapped at Hermione, "What? I'm starving! All I've had since I bled half to death is a couple of toadstools!"

"You go and fight your way through the dementors, then!" Harry shot back at him–his face drawn.

"That's so convenient for us..." Gemma muttered under her breath–shocking Ron at her vehement tone. "Why don't you go cry a bloody river, Ronald?"

Ron was baffled–his eyes widening at her unkind words. "Gem, what are you—?"

"Of course!" Hermione interrupted–slapping a hand against her forehead. She looked at Gemma worriedly, "One, the full moon is coming up in less than two weeks–we need to make sure your wolfsbane potion is still drinkable. Two, you need to give me the locket." When Gemma just stared blankly at her, Hermione moved to her–holding a hand out, "The Horcrux, Gem, you're still wearing it–you need a break."