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                        "I'm fine--"        But before she could finish her sentence,         George had lifted her up off her feet,        in a way that it might seem as though she         didn't weigh a thing.                  Her eyes widened a bit,                   arm immediately wrapping around                  his neck to prevent her from falling--                  her foot had gotten twisted, or broken,                  she hadn't the time to asset which it was.                                         "You don't have to do this, really."

         Honestly, he had caught her off guard. She hadn't been thinking about the Yule Ball -- had actually forgotten about it for a good while there. Yes, remembering the incidents of the Ball, she would normally become quite spiteful at the mention, but the way he had said it seemed to play to his favor; she did not feel mad and was rather calm.   When his arm wrapped around her waist, she felt just at home, as though this was where she belonged. A smile which was impossible to hide came forth at the kiss, her cheeks tinted pink as embarrassment flushed over her.                                       "--you've already made up for it, Ron.                                                             Really, you have."

     Never had she seen someone so     broken. She had not been terribly     close to the female, only recently     gotten on her somewhat good side--              but to see her like this bothered the Granger girl greatly.                          She moved closer to her,                           arms slowly wrapped around                           her figure and a small, delicate                           kiss to the forehead was given,                           purely in a comforting way.               "It'll be okay.                     You're going to be okay."

               His fingers moved over the scarring               that faintly read 'mudblood' which                had been carved by a particular                dark witch; one that often occupied               her nightmares.                        Her breath was hitched, stuck in                        her throat - since that night, she                        kept herself covered, always                         wearing a coat or a long-sleeve shirt                        to hide away what bothered her                         greatly.     She was not ashamed of her blood status,     but she was ashamed of the lack of control     she had when the scar was given to her.     There was absolutely nothing she could do      as the blade carved into her. She merely      had to wait until it was over, but in that       moment, the end seemed unimaginable.                Her eyes moved up to his face,                 a frown evident on his features.                  She forced a smile at him, cleared                 her mind and then attempted to                  speak in a way that sounded                 less forced than it was.                                           "It's..-- it's nothing."

               This wasn’t happening.          The unknown letters, they would not stop.       No matter where she was, they seemed to find her.       As though they were following her.                       She needed them to stop.                                 She needed to breathe.     The answer was stuck in her throat;      she bit back the emotions long      enough to get out what she needed      to.                      “They’re fine.                                Now leave me alone.”

         Her stomach lurched at the question,         the hands that held onto the parchment         shook slightly, her eyes reading the simple         line over and over again. Luckily, she was          not somewhere that many were - tucked away         in the library, her nose in a book; the usual.                       —she swallowed hard and then                          proceeded to attempt to keep                          her breathing somewhat under                          control, though what should be                          a simple action was proving to be                          quite difficult.    Who was this stranger, asking about her parents?    It was quite obvious that they were aware she had    done something to them— if not, they would not have    brought the topic up.                                       —as far as she knew,                                         they were tucked                                         away in australia,                                         memories wiped,                                         unable to remember                                         their past life;                      unable to remember her.