"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
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Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
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The Burrow had never felt this heavy before.
It was supposed to be a sanctuary—a place of warmth, where laughter spilled through the walls, and the scent of Mum's cooking filled the house with comfort. But tonight, the familiar noises of the house seemed muted, drowned out by a tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows, but inside, the house felt suffocating in its silence. Even the flames in the hearth, usually so comforting and lively, were eerily still, their soft flickering shadows stretching unnaturally across the room.
Mum was furious.
Her pacing was relentless, her footsteps echoing through the kitchen as she held her wand tightly, her knuckles white. Her face was drawn, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and anger. The heavy weight of her emotions seemed to settle over the room like a cloud, suffocating any attempt at conversation. Ron, Ginny, and I sat at the long wooden table, stiff and silent, exchanging nervous glances that spoke volumes. It felt as though we were all trapped in a moment, waiting for something to break.
"You three have absolutely no business going back to Hogwarts," Mum snapped, her voice tight with barely contained rage. "It's too dangerous—too uncertain! I won't allow it!"
Her words cut through the stillness, and we all flinched as though the words themselves had physical weight. Ginny's face flushed with defiance, her jaw set. She wasn't one to back down easily. "Mum—"
"Don't you 'Mum' me, Ginevra!" Mum's voice cracked like a whip, and Ginny winced. "I let Bill, Charlie, Percy, the twins—I let them all go off and do Merlin knows what because I had to. I had to let them make their own choices, even when it nearly—" She faltered, her breath catching in her throat. She stopped pacing for a moment, her hand trembling as she wiped her face, trying to mask the wave of emotion that surged through her. She took a long, steadying breath before continuing. "But you three? You're still kids!"
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the table. His eyes were now clouded with the weight of the argument. "We're not kids," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "Not anymore."
Mum turned on him sharply, her eyes flashing with a sudden fierceness. "Oh, so you think that just because You-Know-Who's back, you suddenly have to throw yourselves into the middle of this war? What do you think you're going to accomplish by putting yourselves in danger?"
"None of us are looking for a fight," I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "But we can't just hide, Mum."
Mum's gaze snapped to me, her eyes searching mine for something—anything—that would give her comfort. But there was none to be found. Her face softened just for a moment, a fleeting expression of vulnerability that cracked through the hard exterior she had built up. She looked so tired, the kind of exhaustion that had nothing to do with sleep but everything to do with fear. Fear of losing us. "Gemma, sweetheart... this isn't just about you being safe at Hogwarts. It won't be safe at all. Dumbledore might still be there, but so will they."
