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Guiding Light by SilentConfession
Chapter 2: Found to be Dead
Pushing herself up by the elbows, she looked around the room. The room was bordered in the colours: green and silver, even the heavy comforter that had kept her warm all night was too. The colours felt all wrong though. She pushed off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the four-poster bed. Her body shivered as it was hit by the morningís chill. She wrapped her arms around her body tightly and stood up. She passed the frost-covered window to get to a small cracked mirror, mantled on the dresser across the room.
She reached up and touched the face staring back at her. Her small fingers traced her features, but they werenít familiar. It felt as if she were a complete stranger living inside her own skin. The brown eyes seemed to stare back at her, mockingly. As if they were laughing at her for not even being able to recognize herself.
"Who am I?" The voice drifted across the room, it sounded as though it didnít belong. She swallowed hard and turned away, hot anger swelled up inside her. Why canít I remember? Not only did it unnerve her, but also it scared her half to death. Any normal person would know exactly who they were, but she could only guess.
"Wonderful, youíre up!" A kind voice boasted from the doorway. She swung around to face the intruder. It was a voluptuous woman with greying, bright red hair. "You must be famished, come with me and weíll fix you up."
She watched as the woman walked closer and closer. She backed away, untrusting. She didnít know who this person was either. As the woman got within reaching distance, she felt the familiar pull of panic, rise up inside her. The woman didnít look like she would do anything, but there was that unknown factor that made her quiver.
"Iím not really hungry." She said while taking another step back.
"Oh, of course you are, you probably havenít eaten in ages." The woman beamed again brightly and carefully took her arm and brought her out of the room. The little ball of panic and fear that had established itself earlier seemed to heighten in amplitude. Something about being taken against her will was way too familiar, though she was unable to fathom why.
"No!" She cried out and tried pulling away, the womanís fingers seemed to burn into her forearms. "Please, you canít make me do something I donít want to do!" She tried pulling away again but the woman held on tight.
"Donít be silly, we have some warm food all ready for you." The woman pushed. She seemed bewildered that the girl didnít want any food when it was obvious she really needed it. She was a mere skin and bones.
"Leave me be." She said. She could feel her eyes start to burn.
"Molly, what is going on here?" Lupin asked coming up the stairs to see what the commotion was.
"She needs some food Lupin, look at her!" The woman, who was called Molly, stated. Lupin sighed.
"Molly, I think that we should leave her." Lupin started. "By her reaction there may be things that have happened to her in her past and forcing her somewhere may not be the best course of action." Molly made a hmphing sound before stalking down the steps, muttering something about how she would have to eat sometime.
The girl pressed herself against the wall and while bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them tightly.
"Well, if you want some food, the kitchen is downstairs to the left, you canít miss it." Lupin said and walked back down the stairs. She watched the man leave, he was the same guy she saw yesterday, when the giant of the man brought her in.
As soon as she was alone, she let her shoulders shake softly. All she needed was the freedom her bones craved and being stuck in this house with all these strangers didnít seem to cut it.
Unsure of how long she sat there, the next thing she knew she felt her stomach give a loud rumble reminding her that she was indeed starving. Shakily, she got to her feet and followed the manís instructions. For some reason, she felt like she could depend on the manís word, an odd feeling inside made her believe that she knew him. She shook her head and told herself not to bet on it.
Starting down the stairs, a pair of old black curtains caught her attention. They were closed tightly over something. The mystery compelled her to reach out and pull them back.
"I wouldnít do that if I were you." A voice startled her hand back. She whipped around to face whomever it was that had sneaked up on her. Another redhead she mused.
"Why ever not?" She peered at him; he winked down at her with a charming smile. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stumbled backwards. In a fluent motion, he wrapped his able arms loosely around her back to steady her. His touch though made her muscles tense and she stepped back from him quickly. He held up his hands in defeat understanding that she didnít want to be touched.
"The devil herself is behind them curtains." He said quickly going back to the question before she spoke. Mischief gleamed in his blue eyes; she looked at him for a moment wondering if he should be trusted. In the end, her curiosity of what was behind the curtains won out.
"It really canít be that bad," she said sensibly. "The devil just doesnít hide behind curtains." She started to reach for the curtains as if to prove her logic was correct.
"Suit yourself, but donít expect me to hang around for this truly tragic event," Fred said looking quite horrified. "Just a warning though, sheíll be screaming bloody murder at you, and it hurts the ears really badly. She has this way about her that it makes you feel as if you not worth a cent." Fred shook his head sadly. "But by all means open them, find out for yourself." She looked at him strangely, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. "So, who are you anyhow?" Fred asked when she made no movements toward the curtain, shrugging her shoulders she looked to the ground with an embarrassed look. "Well then, that just wonít do at all, will it?"
She shook her head, the smile reappearing on her face, for some reason she liked his rapturous attitude; it was infectious. The way his eyes shined with trouble and boyishness seemed to scare away her uneasiness, if only for the moment.
"So I guess Iíll call you Missy from here on out, Iím Fred, itís very important that you remember that. Iím the cleverer of the two, George is the other, but you donít have worry about him, he isnít very important." Missy giggled, and then as if she had done something wrong clamped her hand over her mouth. Fred chortled at her reaction. "You want some breakfast? I make a mean cereal and milk deal."
She felt her burrows furrow. "You know cereal right? Itís crunchy, you put milk in it, and itís bloody good, especially if youíre a professional bachelor like me." She shook her head feeling very foolish at not even being able to remember something as simple as food. "Well then, youíre in for a treat. Come with me mademoiselle, if you dare." Fred winked at her again.
Fred offered his arm out to her. She studied him for a second before she hooked her arm with his. Beaming down at her, he burst into song. "Weíre off to see the wizard. The wonderful wizard of Oz!" He sang out his voice cracking a few times as he started doing the standard hop.
Missy giggled and tried following his steps, but to no avail, she almost fell flat on her face in her attempts. "Whoa, slow down cowgirl," Fred said and once again steadied her. She laughed and stopped as they came in front of a big mahogany doorway. Fred coughed into his hand seriously and opened the door with elegance.
"Mr. Fred Weasley proudly presents Miss Missy Mystery," Fred said in a solemn voice. The room went dead silent; Fred smiled charmingly thinking himself pretty intellectual for thinking up such a clever name. George was the first to react; he let out a large snort into his glass of orange juice.
Missy gasped at the sight of the look-a-like Fred.
"Is he the insignificant one?" Fred snorted into his hand. George covered his heart with his hand in mock mortification.
"Why Fred, Iím rather ashamed of you. Telling her lies like that it really cuts me deep."
"Youíre about as deep as a teaspoon Georgie-boy, so I wouldnít worry about it too much." Fred said. He was standing over by the counter fiddling with the cupboard that contained the cereal.
"Yeah, well youíre as smelly as a horsefly!" George stuck out his tongue at his brother childishly.
"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley hushed them before they could go any further.
"Aw, mum we love you too!" George cried out and swept her up in a bear hug. Molly shook her head as George let her go.
"You two never learn," she said chuckling. Mrs. Weasley then seemed to notice what Fred was making and she let out a sigh. "Fred, what in Merlinís name do you think your doing?"
"Making some breakfast mum." Fred said giving her an odd look. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes.
"She needs some good hardy food to build her metabolism, not that silly stuff!" Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "Oh for goodness sake!" Mrs. Weasley cried out as an owl came soaring into the kitchen and almost landed on Mrs. Weasley head. "This is not a circus!"
"But, it changes colours!" Fred whined, ignoring the owl completely. He looked down at his masterpiece. Sure enough the cereal was rapidly changing colours. Molly shook her head at him and quickly conjured up a hot plate of pancakes and eggs. Molly took the cereal from his hands and pushed the plate back into them. Fred shrugged his shoulders and bounded over to where Missy was now sitting.
"Best tasting food that you will ever consume." Fred promised and placed the plate in front of her.
Missy smiled her thanks and picked up the fork beside her. Ignoring that almost everyone in the room was either staring at her openly or discreetly stealing glances, she dug into the food. It felt like she hadnít eaten in days, and for all she knew, that could very well be the truth.
Mrs. Weasley was cleaning up the table after everyone had finished and when she got to Missyís plate she gasped. The only thing left on the plate was the yellow bits in the egg. Quickly, she looked over to where George and Fred were currently making a fool of themselves in the corner with Missy.
"Hermione never ate the yolk of the eggs," Mrs. Weasley said to Lupin, who was reading a report across the table that the owl had brought it a few minutes before. Lupin looked up at her sadly. "You donít suppose-" She trailed off.
Lupin shook his head sorrowfully; he only wished that it could be. He clutched the paper in front of him and only wished it hadnít brought in such bad news.
"There is a new report in. It appears that Hermione, well... sheís dead."