Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(91) Blood Lines

Sirius had woken up especially early the next day, still feeling the growing tension between Jane and Sloan even during the earliest hours of the morning. Molly was whisking up eggs while he helped chop up potatoes for the stew when Jane had walked in, who looked like she had just gotten out of bed.

She fumbled for one of the few clean glass cups on the rack for a refreshing drink of water when Sloan walked in, and in anger, Jane had purposefully dropped the glass, which shattered to a million pieces. Molly jumped back in surprise, her bowl of whisked eggs spilling to the floor as well.

Sloan huffed, eyeing the mess on the floor, "Don't tell me. That was my fault too?"

Jane slammed her hand on the counter, "It is your fault. You shouldn't have come here in the first place."

"And why not? Please, Jane, I've been in the Order longer than you. And also a more important correspondent. Between the two of us, you're the one who has no use being here—"

"Godric's sake, you two, will you cut it out!" Sirius yelled, the two growing silent, Jane still glaring at him menacingly.

"Both of you, go change in to decent clothes and get the hell out of my house." He ordered, their eyes widening in confusion. "Sirius..."

"No. Be quiet. No one says a word until you're out of the door. And no one comes back in unless you've sorted your shit out." He said firmly, looking at both Jane and Sloan straight in the eye. He may be the youngest of the lot, but he knew that if they couldn't get along, it would mean a bad summer for Florence, who was still clearly so confused with everything. They owed her lots of explanation, but they couldn't do that if they had different versions of the same story, fueled only by the strongest resentment that one has for the other.

Remus walked in to the kitchen just as Jane and Sloan stomped out like toddlers getting scolded. He eyed them, brows raised in question. "What's up with them? Why's the kitchen a mess?"

"Remus, dear, would you so kindly fix up another batch of eggs and whisk them? I'll go find something to sweep the glass with then I'll take over."

He agreed, setting his mug down on the kitchen island, reaching for the egg carton when he heard the door slam close very loudly, to be followed by Mrs. Black screeching.

"Fucking hag..." Sirius muttered, sprinting to the hall before anyone else was awoken by the noise.

The house was serene yet again, the smell of Molly's breakfast meal wafting into the hallways and up the stairs. Soon enough, some of her sons had awoken, and then Arthur, all of them helping her out in setting the table.

Sirius thought it would be a good idea to wake up Florence too, as a meal with a group of people might be a good thing that could help lift her spirits from yesterday's breakout.

He trudged up the stairs, now partially clean due to everyone's efforts.

"Florence?" Sirius whispered, carefully opening the door as he peeked inside, "Florence, Molly made breakfast. It's time to get up." he could barely see her from under the thick duvets of the bed, Sirius cautiously stepping inside. "Florence," he whispered this time, reaching out his hand to gently tap her shoulder, "Time to wake up—" his hand fell flat onto the bed, as if it was vacant. His brows furrowed in confusion, before lifting the duvets completely off of the mattress.