𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 | G. WEASLEY✓

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 ; 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

★·.·´¯'·.·★
. 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎
★·.·´¯'·.·★

            "𝐌𝐔𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐃 have—" Heather stopped George. She already knew what he was going to say, for she heard it from Cedric. He had returned last night, looking disheveled. And that's saying a lot, considering the fact that he's dead and nothing should worry him any more.

"Been attacked. I know. I'm sorry I didn't say anything soone—" But Heather never got to finish her sentence for George looked like he had been stabbed multiple times. His face then morphed into one that resembled shock. Heather knew then that she messed up. Big time.

"You knew?" George whispered, tears shining in his eyes. He was extremely worried about it and Heather knew all along and didn't even bother to tell him. That felt like a slap to the face, a big fat slap in fact.

"Yes but I thought—"

"And you didn't tell me?!" He yelled, frustration now settling in. He couldn't believe it. His own girlfriend knew that his parents had been attacked by whatever they were attacked by and she didn't fucking tell him? It was his parents after all, his. And he didn't know what on earth he'd do if they died. They were his everything just as much as Fred and Heather were.

"I was going to tell you love." Heather whispered, casting her eyes downwards. She couldn't look George in the eye when he was this furious. She felt guilty as well. Why didn't she tell him? It's his parents anyway. They're not messed up like her family, they're not Death Eaters or werewolves. They were perfectly normal and even though they were poor, they loved each other. Heather was sure her mother hated her, considering that she saw her only once and that was weeks ago. She had disappeared from the face of earth again and that just honestly fucking hurt her. Molly Weasley was nothing like her mother. She knew Molly would kill anyone who even dared to touched a freckle on any of her children. Heather wished her mother could be like that.

"Were you Heather? Were you really?" George asked, sighing. He shouldn't be angry with her at the moment but he couldn't help it. She should've told him, it's his parents, it's his mother, his father, not hers. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you."

Heather shook her head. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I never should have run away, I never should have dragged you and Fred along, I should've just listened to my dad because he's was right about everything. I'm just a dumb fifteen year old and I—"

"Hey, shush now. You're not dumb and you didn't drag me or Fred along. We came with completely out of own accord. If we didn't want to come with, we could've just flipped you off and went back to sleep. But we didn't love. We didn't because we care." George softly said and Heather smiled at him. "Now c'mon, let's go check up on mum and dad."

Heather shook her head softly. She can't go back because then that would prove that her father was right about everything and that's honestly the last thing she wanted. Call her selfish if you'd like, honestly but admitting defeat to her father? Not exactly on her to do list. "I'm sorry love—" She shook her head again, feeling tears sting her eyes. "I'm sorry but I can't go back. I can't go back, my mum m—"

"We both know your mum is never coming back Heather, she made it pretty clear." George sighed. "Just go with me. I'll even keep H—"

"I can't go back." Heather whispered. "I'm sorry." Heather walked away, feeling shittier with every single step she took towards her room. When she finally got there, she sighed, sniffed and searched for her trunk. I'm really sorry George.

✦

         In her first year, Heather barely had friends. She was always viewed as the weird girl with pink hair and odd personality. She would have loved the fact that she standing out, if she didn't want to fit in so badly. And she thought that if she could become friends with Percy Weasley, people would like her but people didn't even like Percy that much. That's when she moved onto Oliver Wood, who likes her company more than what he'd admit.

She found out that words can hurt. It's not like being shot with the Crucio spell (the fake Mad Eye had done it so they could feel what it felt like—which Heather was pretty sure was hell) or the stunning spell. Words hit your heart, making it ache dully. But even that dull ache somehow materializes into this great hurt that Heather didn't understand.

That's exactly how she felt at the moment as she glanced in the kitchen. Fleur had come home minutes ago, and Fred was still with George and the rest of the Weasleys, excluding Charlie. She was rinsing something under the tap and Heather saw it was a red apple.

"Are you sure zat you'll be fine 'Eather?" Fleur asked out loud, back still to Heather.

"I'll be fine Fleur, honestly. You can go. You'll find me right here—"

"Exactly in zat spot, yes?" She turned around and walked out the kitchen and found Heather on a chair. "I do not want your fuzzer to theenk zat I can not even take care of a—"

"In the exact same spot Fleur. I swear on Rowena Ravenclaw's grave." This seemed to satisfy Fleur, for she smiled, placed a kiss on the green and purple haired girl's forehead before she rushed out. Heather heard a loud pop and she immediately stood up. She was going to regret this.

Dear Fleur, Fred and Bill,

I can't go back but I can't stay any longer. I know you think the same, I wouldn't blame you. Thank you for letting me stay here Bill. Than you for being an awesome best friend Fred. And Fleur, thank you for being the mother I never had.

Love,
Heather

Heather carefully places the letter somewhere they'd easily find it, which was rgs counter top. She moved back to her chair to write the letter she had been dreading to write. George's.

Dear George,

Hi love. If you've gotten this letter, then that means I've gone in search of my mother. You were right about what you said, my mother is never coming back to me. Instead of admitting defeat like I've been doing for basically my entire life, I decided to go search for her.

I love you okay? Please don't forget that. You make me feel good about myself, you make me feel safe, you make me feel happy for being who I am. Thank you for that. Thank you for not expecting me to be as skinny as those girls in the muggle magazines your dad brought home one day. Thank you for not expecting my hair to be as silky or normal looking like theirs.

You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and even writing this letter makes me want to cry. Well, oh too late. There goes a tear.

With lots and lots of love,
Heather.

Heather looked at the Shell Cottage one last time before she began her extremely long trek.