My Eldest Weasley

THE ATTACK

Bill

A blast of fuschia smoke welcomed me as I entered my home at The Burrow.

Oddly though, as suffocating as smokes generally are, this one was almost pleasant, alluring with the smells of fresh dew, lavenders and very faint vanilla and crisp fire whiskey, if you smell it closely enough.

The smells, oddly, reminded me someone that I was trying very hard to forget.

Someone with silvery blond hair and eyes so blue that it immediately brought to mind the shimmering blue sea, at dusk.

It's Sunday morning, and I had come here hoping to snatch some peaceful moments before returning to Diagon alley or The Grimmauld's place.

Grandma Prewett used to say, "if you cannot find peace anywhere else, including your in own head, you come home."

With the thought of putting that theory to test today, I had arrived home, knowing that the rest of the family will probably be at the headquarters of the Order, not finding it in myself to go to that depressing, chaotic place myself just yet.

But it seems that rest and peace are not on the cards no matter where I go, for the smoke clued me in that the two most rambunctious people in the world are the ones that are currently occupying my only hope for quiet.

As if on que, seconds after entering the kitchen, I hear loud thumping from the stairs as Fred entered the kitchen, George apparating beside him, almost toppling over one another, taking in the smoke and black leathery liquid in the cauldron from which purple sparks now emmited.

"Oi! What are you doing here? And what, in the Merlin's name, did you do to our cauldron?"

George asked as soon as he spotted me standing, his eyes narrowing.

Almost as soon as he stopped speaking, Fred accusingly asked, "Did mum send you here to check on us, Billy?"

"Calm down, you lot. Nobody sent me anywhere. But you might want to clean this mess up. Mum is supposed to be here by noon. What is.. Or rather, was supposed to be in that cauldron anyway?"

Admittedly, I was almost scared to ask that question, knowing if it involved Fred and George, it has to be brewing trouble, both literally and figuratively, but curiosity got better of me.

Whipping their wands out, both of my brothers started taking care of the business, Fred making the contents in the cauldron vanish, while the tip of George's wand absorbed the smoke from the room.

"That, Bill, is something we are working on for our business." Fred said, after the kitchen was back to its normal, cluttered, smokeless self.

"And what business that is?" I asked only half paying attention as I sit at the table, stretching my toes to remove crink and exhaustion of last night.

"Well, it is called none of your business, git. What are you doing here, anyways? We thought you were supposed to be at the head quarters, reporting last night's events... What ever they are?"