The Burrow

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A week before Mr Weasley came to pick Ashlyn up, she got a terrible reminder. Going back in time and living as a young girl, she had forgotten the bloody hell mother nature had given the female kind. One night she woke up uncomfortable and found herself lying in a pool of blood.

"Fuck!" she cried as she jumped out of her bed. No wonder she had that weird stomach ache and that feeling of wanting to punch someone for the last two days. She had gotten too comfortable with not having to deal with this monthly bullshit, that she had temporarily chucked it out of her brain, and now it came back barging in.

She went to the washroom. Maybe she could clean it up with magic. But then the ministry would come swooping down. But they can't blame her. No one gets to blame a woman on her period unless they've chosen death. She dragged the damaged bedsheet to the washroom. She stood thinking for a few moments and then decided to do it. Taking a deep breath, she yelled, "MUM!"

She counted, one second, she could hear scrambling in the room down the hallway, five seconds, the door was being wrenched open, ten seconds, thumping in the hallway, fifteen seconds and the bathroom door was slammed open, making her jump. At the doorway stood her parents panting. 

"A little help," Ashlyn said sheepishly.

"Oh. I'll leave it to you" her father said slowly to his wife and walked out of the room.

With her mother's help, Ashlyn got all cleaned up and ready to go to bed, but she did not want to and her parents let her watch Mary Poppins all night while eating ice cream. This was the only good thing she got from all the shit that happened. The next day was even better, she went to bed after having her breakfast and slept like a corpse till the evening. When she came downstairs groggily, she was greeted by a huge box full of sweets. 

"Chocolate! HELL YEAH!" 

"Language," her father said softly, as Ashlyn dug into a milk chocolate bar.


Ashlyn was thankful that the disaster had ended the day before Mr Weasley came to pick her up. She didn't want to ruin the Quidditch World Cup for her or any of her friends.

On Monday morning, she woke up early. This time it was really early. She hadn't gone to sleep until two o'clock, trying to contain her excitement. And she had woken up at three. her mind didn't seem like wanting to go to sleep. Ashlyn was super quiet at breakfast. She didn't say a word, instead, she kept bouncing her feet at a furious pace as though that was what kept her heart beating. She scarfed down her lunch and paced around the hall with a poker face, and when she was forced to sit down because all her pacing was quite unnerving, she swung her legs in a sort of weird dance.

"Stop that!" her mother had yelled as she set the tea-table.

It was not like they weren't stressed. Mr Clarke was going through some old magazine on golf clubs, and Mrs Clarke was polishing her butter knives, occasionally placing them on the tea-table under the light, examine them, and then they would go back in the drawer.

Ashlyn had cleared their fireplace, removing the fake coal fire and she took out the board blocking it, just in case they decided to Floo their way in. Around three o'clock in the afternoon, flames burst into being at the fireplace. Mrs Clarke yelped. Mr Clarke had jumped too. Ashlyn was certainly shocked too when the spot she was starting at ever so intently burst into green flames.

"Hello Mr Weasley," she said brightly as the red-haired man stepped out of the fireplace, dating his robes slightly. Behind him, came Ron and Hermione. 

"Ron! Hermione!"

Ashlyn hugged her friends. Mr Weasley shook hands with her parents, all three of them smiling widely. Ashlyn could see Mr Weasley's eyes dart around the room, from plug to plug. Any wire he saw, lit a spark in his eyes.

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