Promises Kept, Hearts Full of Trust

23

My brother's words seemed almost too good to be true, and I could scarcely believe him.

The anger and anxiety that had been winding itself tightly around my shoulders slowly began to dissipate.

Harry, who had always been staunchly opposed Draco Malfoy, his understanding was unexpected yet so very welcome.

I found myself daring to believe that things might actually turn out alright. Yet, in that same breath, the reminder dawned on me that the situation between Draco and myself was already on its way to a happy ending, independent of external approval, such as my brother's.

"You won't regret it, Harry. I promise," I said, my eyes still locked onto his.

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know, I won't."

With that, he turned to walk away, but I grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"And Harry?" I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Thank you."

I learned the importance of never taking anything for granted, even those things that are rightfully mine by merit, a long time ago.

Harry paused, looking back at me. His eyes, a mirror of emotions, met mine with a reassuring warmth. "You don't have to thank me, Amelia," he said softly, his tone earnest. "We're in this together, right?"

With that, he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before moving away, leaving me to my own thoughts.

After enjoying a few precious moments of solitude, I basked in the unusual calm that washed over me.

Each second was a small gift, a quiet before the storm, a chance to collect my scattered thoughts. I indulged in this fleeting peace, knowing it wouldn't last.

Then, with a deep breath to steel myself, I pushed away the tranquility and readied myself for the inevitable.

I stepped back into the living space, preparing to confront whatever plans the Order and its members had in store for what was to come next.

With a sigh, a touch of the dramatic coloring its edges, I allowed myself to sink into the soft cushions of the sofa.

However, my momentary respite was abruptly interrupted as my eyes fell upon George, sprawled out on the sofa opposite me.

His ear, marred by the ravages of a bloody wound, was a stark contrast to the otherwise homely setting.

But, it wasn't his mangled ear that had me unsettled, but rather George himself. Knowing his typical behavior around me, the urge to go and sit somewhere else was overwhelmingly strong.

And, I would, if only there were other seating areas in the house close to the room Draco was in, because I could hear them chatting a bit and I was too curious not to try to listen through all the hubbub of all the people around me.

With a sigh blending exasperation and resignation, I found myself accompanied all too swiftly by George on the very sofa I had claimed.

"Amelia," George began, the mischievous glint in his eyes that I'd come to associate with him over the years immediately setting me on edge.

"What is it, Weasley?" I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Have I ever told you how fetching you look when you're grumpy?" he asked, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"About a hundred times," I retorted dryly. "And my answer is the same as always: flattery will get you nowhere."

"But it's not flattery if it's true," he said. "Besides, I'm not trying to get anywhere. I'm perfectly content right here."