found ➸ h.p.

chapter fourteen

WHEN Roxanne slid out of the fireplace and into the Black's sitting room, she did not expect to see a distraught group of Weasley and Order members sitting at the kitchen table. They were silent except the occasional sigh of the tired children or the clang of a pot as Sirius tried to make tea as a comfort. Admitted, Roxanne could not find them for the first ten minutes she was in Grimmauld Place.

No one had told her what had happened since she had arrived, and she didn't want to press, for fear of another discrepancy between her and her only friends in the past year. Fred and George had only half glanced at her when she had walked in, putting their heads in their hands right after they had made eye contact. Whatever had happened was grave.

Leaned up against the kitchen wall, Roxanne couldn't help but to wonder what had happened; What had gone so wrong that they needed to leave Hogwarts so early? She wasn't complaining of course, seeing as the school had been her own sense of personal hell for the past three months. She knew it was home to Hermione and Harry though, and the fact that Harry had come without question was more than concerning.

Molly Weasley came bustling into the kitchen, her hair a mess and eyes swollen from past tears. She didn't spare Roxanne a glance as she rushed passed her to greet her children, each one receiving a loving hug and kiss on the cheek. Roxanne looked away. She felt guilty for the pang of jealousy that ran through her veins.

"Your father– Are you alright?" she asked them worriedly, searching each of her children rapidly before plopping down next to Harry. "How did you get here so quickly?"

"I saw it in my dream," was all Harry said, breathless as if he had just run up a flight of stairs. Roxanne's breath hitched in her throat, panic running up and down her spine as she waited for him to elaborate. He didn't.

"Harry, dear, what do you mean?" Mrs. Weasley voiced the question everyone was wondering.

"I– I saw– I saw Mr. Weasley get attacked by Voldemort while I was sleeping," he replied. A sharp intake of breath echoed around the room, Roxanne unable to hold it in. Voldemort was back, and he meant business this time; There would be no interventions. This was the godly movement he has envisioned so many years ago.

Roxanne pushed herself off the wall and fled up the stairs to the sitting room. She paced the lengths of the room, hands running through her hair, lip bit, and eyes wide. He was planning something huge; Something that would be remembered for the rest of humanity's time.

Her hands were shakily running through her mess of hair, only knotting the strands more. The breaths coming from her mouth were not whole, in fact, they were mere whispers of a breath; silent and fleeting. Tears were brewing in her eyes, threatening to fall as she paced the room trying to catch her breath.

She could not breathe. It was like choking on pure air. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but no air was retained. The tears fell quickly.

"Please, please, please, please," she pleaded, her voice no more than a mere shadow of a murmur. She had never experienced this sensation before.

Roxanne almost thought she was dying until she felt her heart hammering in her pulse. It pounded in her ears, the roar of the fire drowned out by the pumping of her heart. The sound was obnoxious enough to make any sane man go mad.

The tears would not stop falling. Her hands were still running through her hair. The breaths she was previously struggling to take in were now choking her alive. It was like a python slowly closing upon one's neck; a gradual and painful way to go.

"Jesus, Roxanne. What in Merlin is wrong with you?" Sirius inquired from afar. Roxanne ceased her rocking and snapped her head to look at the man, not surprised to see he looked less distraught than the others. Azkaban takes a toll on those unfortunate enough to face its wrath.