Never Is Our Always

Back To The Burrow 4

(Minnie pov)

Mr. Weasley woke us after only a few hours sleep. It was harder now that I had an injured leg and a broken wrist.

"Hey," Fred said groggily, I look up at him as he helps me sit up. "Dad told us that one of us is gonna have to carry you."

"Don't bother," I groggily reply, "can you at least help me put my boots on?" I ask.

"Sure," he knelt down and I point to my bag, he opens it cautiously before retrieving a pair of socks for me.

"You're not changing are you?" He asks and I shake my head. He puts one sock on and then pulled it up. He does the same with the other sock, as he was about to pull it up, I grabbed him on the shoulder.

"Sorry." We say at the same time, then we chuckle as he gingerly pulls the sock up for me.

"Now the boots," he clapped his hands and grabbed the right boot and I exhale softly as he carefully slips it on.

"You okay?" I nod as he zips it up and then buckled all of the straps for me.

"How's your leg and wrist, Alice?" Mr Weasley asks as Fred zipped up the left boot and did the buckles.

"Very tender," I croak, "but manageable."

"You're not walking on it," he points, "it'll worsen if you do."

"But I'm heavy, sir, I don't want anyone to carry me," I said, with pleading eyes, "I'll be okay."

"As soon as it hurts, one of the boys will carry you," I felt so guilty for getting hurt, I wish it never happened or they never saw it.

"Stop it," Ron told me, "you're making the guilty face again."

"Am not," I scoffed before playing with the draw strings of my shorts.

"Are too," Fred, George and Ron answer me.

"You're all so mean in the morning, leave me alone!" I whine, they all gave me a look. "Shut up." I grumbled before hissing in pain.

"Sorry!" Fred yelps, "sorry, sorry, so—" I covered his mouth and hung my head as my leg throbs.

"It's... fine," I look him in the eyes, "stop apologising." He nods and I slowly let him go. "Sorry love," I mumbled as I rub his cheek with the back of my hand softly.

"Don't mention it," he replies and I sigh.

"Right, is everyone ready?" Mr Weasley asks, Fred helps me off my bed and takes my bag.

"Got everything?" I nod my head, my Puddlemere United hoodie was inside the bag as well as everything else. I packed everything earlier this morning.

"Let's go!"

-

Mr Weasley used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage.

Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved us off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"He'll be all right," Mr. Weasley said quietly as we marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while... and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible.

Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and was able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.