As Lavender Brown's body lay amongst the ruins of what was once her home, she watched a family grieve the loss of one of their own, wondering why fate had so cruelly dealt them such cards. From a young age, all she wanted was to love and be loved in...
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»»» IT was clear that they were having no luck with Mary Brown,but whilst Lavender continued to stare dumbfounded at her mother, Fred noticed something in the far corner that made his blood freeze. A cool chill trickled down his spine as he silently got up. He didn't even hear the conversation that Lavender was having, instead his ears were ringing with the voice of one Hermione Granger who echoed the words of Dumbledore.
Mysterious thing, time. Powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous.
It was difficult to focus on anything else now that he had spotted the anomaly. Stuck in a trance, he watched the hand spin around the clock repeatedly, trapped in a continuous loop. The sight only made Lavender's observations about the sun feel all the more real and though he had believed her, seeing it first hand allowed the realisation to finally sink in.
And the only person he wanted to talk to was his brother.
For the first time since waking up in the Hellhole, he felt genuine fear, the type that made him wonder to what end they would continue playing this twisted game of Death. Though he had been slow on the uptake, Lavender had noticed it long before him. Whilst he had been blissfully carefree, concerned with only how he could make her more comfortable, she had been rightfully observing the oddities that surrounded them. All the plans he had about convincing her to spend a couple of days with his brother slipped from his fingers.
"Fred?"
Blinking, he turned to see Lavender watching him, a small crease on her forehead and a twitch in her eye as she tried to figure him out. He marveled at her ability to set aside her emotions in order to help their cause, despite how difficult it was proving to be, but the sentiment was enough. Moving forward, he decided, she would not have to shoulder that burden alone. His gaze shifted to the aging woman who sat opposite her, twiddling her thumbs, fixated on the table cracks in an almost trance like state herself.
There was something troubling the Brown women, that much was obvious, but his patience was also wearing thin. Pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, he exhaled gustily and moved his chair next to Lavender, before sitting down and regarding Mary.
"We aren't asking you to do anything you're not comfortable with," he started in a calmer voice than he thought he could manage. "But our presence here, it's not right. Maybe we have unfinished business, maybe we don't. The only way we're going to be able to move forward is if you help us; otherwise I'm sure that is going to catch up to us all." He gestured to the clock on the mantelpiece, noting how Mary didn't even need to turn around to know what he was talking about. Instead, she sniffed again and repeated the same excuse in a shaky voice.
"This is your daughter Mary," said Fred, his temper rising again. As much as he tried to channel his brother, the task was impossible. He squinted at her when she refused to look up from the table crack. "You must care. I know you care. When I asked you to let her in, you did," he continued, shrugging his arm out of Lavender's grip as he made his way over to her.
