Heartbreak

Chapter 35: Heartbreak

December 1997

George woke when Annie rose from the bed and began to dress. He lifted his head from the pillow, glanced at the time on the clock, and winced.

"I want to be there before she wakes up," Annie whispered.

George sighed quietly. Their honeymoon had lasted six hours.

They arrived at the hospital well before dawn. George managed to drag her into the hospital's café and force her to eat a pastry and drink a coffee before they made their way upstairs into Meredith's room.

Meredith turned to them as they entered with a serene smile. "Good morning, my dears. Did you get some rest?"

Annie nodded and perched on the bedside. George had taken a seat near the foot of the bed, gazing tiredly at the pair of women. She leaned over to kiss her grandmother on the forehead and took her hand. "How about you?"

Meredith nodded in response. "You know, I had the oddest dreams last night," she said with a curious smile on her face. "Must have been the sedative. I suppose 'dream' is the wrong word, actually. More like... reliving old memories. I've quite a store of wonderful ones to draw from – I'm very lucky in that way." Meredith patted Annie's hand as she spoke.

Annie wasn't sure she was comfortable with the odd direction the conversation was turning, but at the moment couldn't think of how to redirect her Gran.

"Do you remember when you were a little girl... that first summer you started playing in the woods? You were such a little tomboy then, barely a girl at all," Meredith chuckled. "Every day, you would come back home to me utterly filthy but happier than I'd seen you in years."

Annie smiled slightly and nodded. Of course she remembered the happiest days of her life, when she and George and Fred had spent every day together in the forest building the tree fort. Every hour of them was more precious than gold to her. But why would Gran be thinking of that now?

A sad, faraway look came into Meredith's eyes. "I remember how unhappy you were before those days."

After several moments' pause, she continued. "But whatever it was you discovered in the forest, it was like a little happy light turned on inside you, day in, day out. That is, until a few years later. Then the happy light was only on during the summer. I used to tell myself it had something to do with the sunlight," Meredith chuckled, casting a sly, knowing look at George.

The look wasn't lost on Annie. What does that mean? she wondered, swallowing nervously.

"Last night, I started remembering some of those stories you used to tell me." Meredith looked intently into Annie's eyes, which were welling with tears once again.

Annie spared a moment's thought to wonder at the fluid volume that had left her body through her tear ducts over the past two days, but smiled at her Gran anyway.

"So many stories you shared with me back then... about fantastical, magical creatures. Magical people, even. That first day, you came home and told me you had met a pair of little ginger twin boys up in a tree. And you had found a stick that you imagined had become alive. Such an imagination you had back then.

"At least, that's what I used to think... before last night."

George got up from the chair and stood at the foot of the bed. He looked with nervous alarm toward Annie and then Meredith. Where exactly is this conversation going? Had Meredith had some sort of epiphany overnight? And if so, how was she going to react to a dozen years of deception by her granddaughter and himself?

Meredith noticed his movement and turned to look at George. The look on his face had confirmed every suspicion she had come to overnight. No confusion or bemusement at the outlandish story coming from a senile old woman was to be found there. Only anxious concern and a guilty blush.

She offered him a reassuring smile. Sweet, strange boy, she chuckled to herself. His odd secret was safe with her – that had to be obvious at this point. She would be taking it to her grave shortly.

"I've been rather a fool, haven't I?" Meredith chuckled at the two of them, both looking like children just caught in a lie and waiting for the scolding to commence. "You were nothing but honest with me, Annie. And I, in my rational adult mind, dismissed your childish accounts as imagination," she said.

"Then last night, out of the blue, two ginger twin boys – well, young men, actually – stood at the foot of my bed as I watched my granddaughter marry one of them. Even then, I didn't puzzle it out. Not until after the sedative took effect.

"Ginger twin boys who mysteriously happen to live next door to us. A wedding that happened like magic. All your fantastical stories of creatures and spells in the woods next door. All of them ended once we had that stupid conversation, and I told you I didn't believe you."

Meredith lifted her hand and stroked Annie's hair. "You never stopped living in a magical world, did you? You only stopped telling me about it. My granddaughter lives in her very own fairy tale, where fairies are stupid little insect-things, not flower princesses like in the books, apparently," she mused aloud with her brow furrowed in mild confusion.

But Meredith's smile returned brightly as she looked back into Annie's eyes. "I always suspected you were meant for better things than this world, Annie. You came into it in such an accidental way. Your little self seemed so much at the mercy of the worst the world had to throw at you. But you always resisted it, like a little sapling bending before the gale just enough so as not to break, then springing aright once more. You were building up strength inside you to better weather the next storm. It astonished me, how you survived it time and again. You always managed to cling to something within, waiting patiently, as if you knew something better was ahead for you.

"And it is, isn't it? This silly world is just a temporary trial for you. Something better is ahead, virtually within your reach now. It's your destiny. Nothing is left to tie you here to this one any longer."

Annie shook her head, the earlier foreboding swiftly turning into bald fear. She definitely didn't like where this was going. What did Gran mean by, "Nothing is left to tie you here?"

Her Gran now turned to George. "And the fairy tale prince. Come to take my granddaughter off to her happily ever after," she smiled again. "I trust you with the job, you know," she added. "Angharad deserves it."

Meredith closed her eyes and rested for a while. The conversation seemed to have exhausted her last reserve of strength.

Annie and George looked at each other with confusion and alarm. All their years of careful deception had seemingly just crumbled before their eyes, and yet another Muggle had discovered the existence of magic. They sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Now what were they going to do?

Annie felt a small squeeze of her hand. Her Gran opened her eyes once more and began to speak again. "Angharad... forgive me... for my weakness," she whispered.

"Gran, you're the strongest person I've ever known," she argued as yet another volley of hot tears sprang to her eyes. This was definitely not a conversation she wanted to have right now.

But her Gran shook her head. "I was weak, and in that weakness, I failed my Carys, my love. By failing your mother, I failed you, Angharad."

"No!" Annie cried harshly. "That's not true! You did everything for me! I would be nothing without you," she sobbed.

Her Gran smiled weakly and patted her hand. "Thank you... for your forgiveness. For your understanding. For your love. You have been the light of my life. It's why I named you Angharad – my increase of love."

Annie shook her head. "Stop this, Gran. You're frightening me," she pleaded.

"It's time now. Time for me to go. Time for you to move on... to your destiny."

"NO!" Annie begged.

"Annie, I want to go. I don't want to stay here... a burden... in pain... any longer. Life in a bed is not a life."

Annie shook her head vigorously as her Gran spoke. "You're not a burden! You never would be! I need you!"

Annie sobbed nearly silently, only strangled sounds of breaths inhaled and trapped inside until they burst out again, as she held her grandmother's fragile, withered hand in her own. The hand that used to feel so strong and large around her own childish one. The one that had wiped her tears, held her tenderly, guided her for so long.

"You have a new purpose in life now," Meredith murmured softly. "A married woman. You have George to care for, and he you. And a family of your own someday, I'll wager."

Annie bowed her head, a panicked feeling swelling in her stomach. Maybe the wedding yesterday wasn't such a good idea. Now that Gran didn't have something to look forward to... to try to live for....

"Let me go," Meredith calmly, quietly commanded.

Annie looked at her grandmother. Meredith's eyes were pleading, sunken into her skull, floating above pools of dark circles. She was wasted – no longer resembling the vital woman who had raised Annie. Her face was drawn with pain and worry, but yet calmly composed, as if at peace with her decision, now that it was made.

It's the least I can do for her, Annie realized, to grant this, her last request. She slowly nodded. Annie lifted her grandmother's cool, papery-skinned hand to her lips, kissed it tenderly, and rested it back on her lap.

No further words were spoken. Meredith closed her eyes. A few minutes later, she smiled and exhaled for the final time.

The sustained monotone of the cardiac monitor did not trigger a frantic rush of medical personnel to descend upon them, like one sees in televised hospital dramas. Instead, a single nurse quietly entered the room, almost unnoticed, and began to methodically turn off the several machines, unplugging and disconnecting them from Meredith's body.

Annie felt George's warm strength enfold her; his arms held her up as she released the cold steel of the bedrail in response. Her brain and heart could no longer be bothered with the effort it took to hold herself upright, and she was grateful beyond words for the ability to sink into his support.

They stood together, next to the bed, for an unmarked amount of time. She could hear his soothing voice in her ears, though she was unable to distinguish the actual words he said.

The rustling sounds of a person entering the room skittered along the border of her consciousness. She heard George's deep voice rumbling something in his chest; he was holding her head against it, a hand covered her ear and muffled most of the sound, almost as if she was underwater. Then four sharp metal knocking noises broke through the dam and startled her.

"I said wait!" George bellowed.

His voice penetrated the gloom around her. Annie looked up to see what had angered him so. She found an unfamiliar man standing next to the bed.

"Is it all right, Annie, for him to take her? Are you ready?" George asked softly and tenderly, as he held her face toward his and looked searchingly into her eyes.

Annie nodded slowly. Whatever had happened to the vital spirit that had been her Gran, it was no longer within the body on the bed. It had flown elsewhere. Perhaps it would come back to Annie, and she would feel her grandmother's presence again in time. But it was gone now. It had left her behind.

George pressed her tightly to himself again, blocking the sight and sound of the bed being wheeled out of the room. She was thankful once again for his strength in this hour when she had none of her own.

"Annie? Mr. Wallace wants to speak to you."

George's sweet voice spoke directly into her ear. She looked up again, blinking with the brightness of the light. It had been warm and dark and quiet wherever she had been.

"Is there someone you wish me to call? Can I help in any way – perhaps to organize a service?" he asked them.

Annie moved to sit down, realizing guiltily that poor George must be getting tired of holding her all this time.... How long has it been? she wondered. Judging by the light outside the window, it was perhaps late afternoon.

The two men kneeled now in front of her.

"My grandmother was not a church-going woman, sir," she said. Her voice sounded hollow and flat even to her own ears. "I think she liked you, though. Would you mind taking care of a... a service, for us? Make whatever decisions you think appropriate or necessary. Something simple... brief... dignified. There won't be a large crowd of mourners, so please don't go to the trouble of anything indoors. She has a plot next to my grandfather in the Ottery cemetery."

"Of course. I'll ring you tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest with the details. Feel free to contact me for anything at all," he offered generously. "I'm pleased to help in any way I can."

"Can we go now?" she asked.

The kind young man nodded. "Take her home," he instructed George quietly. "I'll handle everything here."

Annie managed to summon the strength to walk out the hospital doors and into the truck under her own power, but that was as long as it lasted. As they pulled up to the house she had lived in all her life with her grandmother, her resolve failed her. She was actually terrified to go inside – afraid of confronting Gran's permanent absence.

"Would you rather go to my house?" George asked when she made no move to exit the truck.

Annie considered his offer, but the thought of facing his family was too much as well. She wanted to be alone with George and no one else. She could handle that... no, she needed that. She wanted to crawl into her bed and curl up into her numbness and let go of conscious thought for a long while. For as long as she could escape it. She shook her head.

George seemed to read her thoughts and carried her into the house. She hid her face against his neck, avoiding looking at anything else, pretending she was anywhere but here. He set her on the bed, helped her to undress, and changed her into more appropriate attire for an attempt at suspended animation. Then he left, made a few noises in the kitchen, and brought in some tea a few minutes later.

Michael had meanwhile hopped onto the bed and nestled himself against her stomach. She buried her face in his soft fur, curling her body around the warm oval that was the dog.

She heard the back door open, then bang shut. She figured he must be sending a message to his family. A few minutes later, George returned to the kitchen and, by the sound of it, began cooking some food. A tiny, isolated part of her brain found that concept amusing and wished she could watch.

Her mind drifted about, not quite asleep, for a little while longer. Just before she finally submerged into unconsciousness, she heard a soft pop and another familiar voice.

What is Fred doing here? she wondered. Her last ounce of concentration was spent trying to overhear the quiet conversation in the kitchen.

"Mum wants to know why you didn't bring her straight to our place," asked Fred.

"Would you want to be there if it were you? Annie needs some peace and quiet for now," George replied.

"Understood." There was a pause. "Mum's upset you're staying here, the two of you alone."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving Annie in this place by herself. Mum'll just have to lump it."

"Why don't you just tell them... about the wedding?" Fred suggested.

"That would surely ease Mum's mind now, wouldn't it?" George snapped sarcastically.

Fred snorted. "Okay, so she'd do her nut. Keep us posted, will you? Mum and Dad both want to be there for Annie at the funeral. And me, as well."

"We should know more tomorrow. The bloke from the hospital is taking care of it. I've got a few phone calls to make myself, letting her people know. Hand me her phone there, will you?"

Annie heard a familiar quiet pop, and the house was quiet once again.

*

Annie woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Her eyes opened. She wondered what time, what day it was.

George answered it after the third ring. She noticed his side of the bed was no longer warm. How long ago had he gotten up and dressed? Her ears followed his one-sided conversation as he paced in the kitchen.

"Jane? Thanks for ringing me back.... Yeah. Would you...? She won't even leave her bed.... Thanks.... See you soon."

Poor George. She had frightened him, apparently; she could hear it in his voice. It had been so nice, so comforting to lie here in his arms, feeling nothing but his warm strength enveloping her. He'd been a buffer against the sadness, the loss.

But it was time to deal with it. She realized that now. She had been hiding from her responsibilities, childishly pulling the blankets up over her head. It was time to grow up. Time to honor her grandmother's life by acknowledging her death.

"George?" she called softly, carefully exercising her unused vocal chords.

He was by her side in an instant, his hand stroking her hair, her cheek. She wasn't entirely sure whether he had run from the kitchen or Apparated.

"Is that Jane coming over?" she asked him.

"She's worried about you," he nodded.

He didn't need to state the obvious; it was staring her straight in the eyes. He was worried – no, more like nearly panicked, if she wasn't mistaken. She glanced away from him toward the clock, partly to find out the time, but mostly to escape the pain she saw in his face, which she felt responsible for.

Ten a.m. Time to get moving. "What day is it?" she asked, ashamed of the necessity of doing so.

"The twenty-eighth."

No wonder he was panicked. She'd been catatonic for nearly forty hours. The anger she now felt was directed at herself, her own weakness. She felt it building and giving her body the strength to move, to fight against the otherwise immobilizing grief.

How could she have been so immature, so selfish? She forced herself to look at the unnecessary pain she had caused George, so evident there in his expression. In that moment, she vowed never again would she give him any reason to suffer on her account, if she could help it.

Annie sat up, tossing the covers off. George was still kneeling on the floor in front of her. She held his head in her hands and kissed his forehead.

"Thank you, George, for everything you've done. Thank you for being here for me. I've put you through hell, I know it, and I'm sorry. I'm better now, I swear. I'll be stronger from now on."

"Don't apologize, Annie. No one expects you to be fine, but you have to try, okay?"

Annie nodded. "I'll take a shower. I'll visit with Jane for a bit, and then I'll take care of whatever needs to be done this afternoon. Make a list for me. And why don't you take the chance to go see your family? They must be worried sick about you."

"Maybe I will... while Jane's here with you," he mused.

"I don't need a babysitter," she began to argue.

He raised one eyebrow. "Humor me."

As wonderful as it was to see Jane again, Annie was rapidly running through her tiny stockpile of self-control. They'd sat for only a few minutes in the front room before she found herself struggling to keep her breathing normal as the photo-strewn walls began to close in on her.

Jane noticed Annie's discomfort and offered to move into the kitchen, make her some tea. That helped a little – until her friend handed her Gran's teacup filled with steaming brew. Annie's hand shook so hard she nearly dropped it.

"D'you mind, Jane.... Could we get out of here?" Annie croaked hoarsely.

"Absolutely, darling. I'll get your coat."

It was better out there with the frigid air numbing her exposed skin and lungs. Her head was clearer without the vise of memories and reminders that the house had become. She and Jane strolled slowly down the road toward the town, arm in arm.

"Thanks. This is much better. If you're cold, we can go inside somewhere," Annie offered.

"Don't be silly. It's invigorating, don't you think?" Jane replied.

Or anesthetizing, rather, Annie thought, nodding as if she agreed.

Jane hugged her as they kept walking. "Will it bother you... if I talk about her?" she asked gently.

"It's okay. I can handle it... as long as you don't let go of me," Annie promised. She was doing it again: physically drawing strength from outside herself, only from Jane this time, instead of George.

"Your Gran was such a wonderful person, Annie. She really lit up her little corner of the world, didn't she? And now it's in you, that light. She still shines through you."

Annie used every ounce of control she had left to choke down a sob, leaving nothing in reserve to battle the tears that flowed now. "Thank you. That was a lovely thing to say."

"She was strong, as well," Jane continued. "Just like you. You'll get through this. You've got George. And me."

Yes. She had her dearest friend now by her side. And she had her secret treasure, now her husband: George. Annie smiled through her tears. "Did he tell you what he did for her? For me?"

Jane shook her head, a curious look crossing her face. "We hardly spoke about anything on the phone."

Annie held out her left hand, her smile growing larger as Jane's eyes bugged out in shock as she noticed the gold band encircling her third finger.

"Annie! You have to tell me everything!" Jane squealed excitedly.

"Shh! It's a secret! You really can't tell anyone, understand? I can't tell you why – just trust me."

"That makes no sense at all, but whatever you want. Just tell me what happened, already!" Jane insisted.

Annie spent the next ten minutes recounting the whirlwind wedding of two days ago. As painful as it was to remember her Gran lying there on the hospital bed through what had ended up being her last hours, it made Annie feel hopeful when she felt a rush of happiness as she relived her pledge to love George, and his to her, forever. It pleased her to have shared that happiness with her Gran, after all.

"Well, I can't pretend I'm not disappointed I wasn't there, and some of it still doesn't make sense.... How did his brother get there again? Never mind.... I'm so happy for you both!" Jane squeezed her in a cheerful hug.

Annie glanced around them to get her bearings. She hadn't been paying attention where they were going while she'd been talking and was surprised to find herself standing in front of a familiar storefront: it was the tattoo parlor she had come to almost exactly two years ago to commemorate her feelings for George. She smiled ironically as she remembered it; she'd thought she was in such pain then, emotionally, so fearful that he might never feel the same for her. Then she recalled the distraction from the anxiety that the physical pain of the tattoo had brought. Hmm. Perhaps it was fate that brought me here just now....

"D'you mind if we just pop in here, for a bit? I think I might be in the mood for a little distraction."

George was waiting for her when Jane brought her home that afternoon. Molly had sent an enormous volume of food back with him – so much that even George's appetite couldn't hope to plow through it before it spoiled. Annie begged Jane to stay and eat with them, and then demanded she take some with her as well.

The sun had set by the time they were finally alone again. Focusing on the burning skin on the back of her neck helped to keep the worst of the depression at bay as the quiet descended between them. It was coming, though; she could feel it. A hard night was ahead, most likely sleepless.

"I think I'll have a run before bed," she told him as she stood up from the table. Best to face the night to come completely exhausted, if possible.

"It's dark," he warned, deeper lines of worry adding to the ever present concern now in his brow.

"I won't be long. A couple miles or so... just to clear my head. I'll be fine."

"I'm not letting you go alone," he said, shaking his head.

"All right. It would be nice to have company, actually."

She smiled timidly. She held out her hand to him, grateful when he took it and let her lead him out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. She saw that George had brought a bag of his things back with him that afternoon while she had been gone. It's not so bad in here, she realized as they dressed for exercise. Not so many memories of Gran in this room.

"What's that on your neck?" he asked in an alarmed tone as she removed her jumper. That was another thing that had come back with George: her very own Weasley sweater – a Christmas gift from Molly.

"The latest addition to my collection," she said lightly, attempting to relieve his worry with a stab at levity. "You can look, if you like. It's likely scabby and grotty right now, though."

He carefully peeled the bandage back slightly with one hand, the other rested warmly on her bare shoulder. "A Cymru dragon?"

She nodded and turned to look at him over her shoulder. A half-smile graced his face for the first time in a long while. It was a balm to her heart to see it there again.

"She'd have liked that," he offered, grasping its significance immediately.

"Actually, she'd have had kittens," Annie argued with a weak smile. "Gran wasn't very supportive of what she considered self-mutilation. 'If God had wanted holes or pictures on a person, he'd have put them there himself', she'd've said."

"She never knew about this one, then?" he chuckled, brushing the small of her back with his hand.

Annie shook her head. It was good to hear him laugh and to be able to speak lightly of her Gran. She had been a woman with a sense of humor, after all, and not very tolerant of moping about.

George carefully replaced the bandage and finished getting dressed for their run.

"I'm warning you, I feel like sprinting tonight. Might be too fast for you," she teased as they stood in the garden and stretched their legs against the back steps.

"You do have a rather vivid imagination, don't you?" he teased back.

Annie fell into her rhythm quickly, flying down the road away from the village. She barely marked the lane to the Burrow as she sped by it, arms and legs working together to pull her through the cold air. It felt wonderful to push her muscles and lungs and heart to their limits. And to hear George's shadowing footsteps, just a pace behind.

Her blood was pumping. Her nerves were firing. She was alive.

It was a trick she'd discovered when she was much younger: the turmoil and angst in her mind and heart were somehow dispelled by the physical work of running. It was so much easier to think clearly in this state. She reckoned it was the sole reason she survived those last two years while George and Fred had been gone from her, when she had nearly gone mad with longing and worry.

She banished any lingering sad thoughts from her mind. Her Gran would have wanted her to dwell on happier things. Instead, she replaced the empty, painful sadness with a recitation of their wedding vows. The kiss in the truck. Her wedding night.

She reckoned she had gone far enough, for tonight at least. She paused at the side of the road, catching her breath and letting George catch his. "We can go slower on the way back, if you want," she offered.

"Are you kidding...? I could go another five miles... at least..." he falsely boasted between sucking in breaths, bent over.

Annie laughed at his bravado. She was startled at how good that felt: to laugh. She began to jog slowly back down the road the way they had come. She was tired now; the sprint following her prior lack of exercise had exhausted her. Soon she slowed further to a walk. She was in no hurry, after all, to get back to that house. George took her hand, and they walked along in silence for a while down the dark road.

"It took a lot of... strength... for you to do what you did. To let her go," he said softly as they approached the house.

"It would have been selfish of me not to. She was ready. It was the least I could do," Annie replied.

"Not the least. The hardest, more like," he argued gently.

"Yes. It was hard. Still is hard."

"Let me help," he pleaded as he squeezed her hand.

"You are," she assured him. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. "This does. Just having you here means more to me than you'll ever know. I don't think I could... handle this... without you."

They had reached the house. She hesitated at the steps, unsure if she was ready yet to go back in. It felt so much easier to deal with... out here in the cold. She shivered.

"I know it hurts to go in there. But we can't stay out here. You'll freeze," he said, sounding omniscient.

Annie nodded silently and let him pull her up the stairs. She looked down at the floor as her feet took the steps to the bathroom. It helped not to look around too much, especially not at the closed door that led from the kitchen into Gran's room.

George stood at the bathroom door as she walked past. She found she couldn't let go of his hand. She took a few steps further in, pulling him along with her. Annie turned on the water of the shower and let it run to get warm, still holding his hand. When she stood up once more, she pressed her body against him, turned her face up to kiss him.

"Make me forget... for a little while...?" she asked him.

*

Once he was sure they had gone inside the house, the man let the Disillusionment Charm fall away from him. It had been an effective one – they had strolled right by where he had been hidden by the side of the house, not two feet away from him.

What a stroke of luck! he thought. He had finally tracked down the truck he had seen them drive away in from the Muggle hospital a few days ago and had now stumbled onto so much more.

So this was the way it stood: no longer holing up with Mummy and Daddy in the safely charmed little hovel he called home? Something powerful must have drawn the pathetic ginger brat out. The little female must have some charms of her own, by the looks of it. From the tender tone of the pup's sickening voice, she had her claws in deep.

He personally had no particular grudge against the Weasley family... but he knew someone who did. And that someone would likely be willing to shell out many a galleon for this information. It was practically money in his pocket.

*

Two days later, Annie stood in a brief period of afternoon sunshine beside a gaping hole in the ground. Next to her, holding her hand, was her source of strength. She resisted the urge to lean against George. Over the past several days, she had only rarely relinquished bodily contact with him. She was worried she was becoming parasitic, after a fashion.

That morning, as they had dressed for the funeral, George had gently removed both their wedding bands from their fingers as she nodded in understanding. Hers was now framing the little golden heart he'd given her, hanging from the chain around her neck, hidden underneath her blouse. Once again, like it had been for most of their lives, their true relationship had to be kept a secret from the world at large.

Behind them stood his parents – her in-laws now, unbeknownst to them. Across the vulgar hole in the ground stood Mrs. Finnerty, Jane, and a smattering of Gran's garden ladies. There were not many of them left anymore, but here they stood in loyal devotion to their friend, to each other. Fred had been called away for the day, but had personally expressed his condolences to her at the house while the three of them had eaten breakfast together.

Annie had been rather proud of the fact she had been dry for well over a day. That record was over now. Tears slowly coursed down her cheeks, leaving behind frozen tracks on her face. She twisted her head, stretching the muscles of her neck and shoulders, eliciting a welcome wave of angry pain from underneath the bandage at the base of her neck.

The kind young chaplain from the hospital began to speak. "'I am the Resurrection and the Life,' saith the Lord; 'he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.'"

Reverend Wallace had respected Annie's wishes and kept the service simple and brief. He included a familiar psalm, "The Lord Is My Shepherd," and the garden ladies nodded their heads and recited the words along with him. He then said some lovely things about her Gran; she wondered who would have given him the details. Or maybe it was just more generic than she realized. It certainly was hard to pay close attention.

"We therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

All eyes turned to Annie as she grabbed a handful of small bits of frozen mud. She stumbled slightly as she took several steps toward the open grave. Slowly, she commanded the fingers of her fist to open one by one. The tiny pieces of solid mud rained down dully on the wood below.

*

The man found himself being ushered into the impressive mansion by a sniveling house-elf. He could barely resist the urge to kick the filthy, groveling thing. Instead, he directed his attention to the rich furnishings, smiling to himself at his good fortune.

The room he was led to looked empty and dark. The only light was cast by a small, dim fire in the grandiose fireplace. He supposed this was one of the perks of wealth: making people wait for you.

He was startled to be addressed almost immediately by an oily voice issuing from a chair near the fire. It had looked empty, sitting as it was in a shadow. He squinted, trying to make out the speaker with no success.

"I was told you had an item of interest to me, yet you seem to have come here empty-handed. I hope for your sake you do not dare to waste my valuable time."

"No, sir. I have something for you, indeed. Information."

"Yes?" the voice said indulgently. Doubtfully.

"It concerns a family of some interest to you...."

"This is getting tedious rather quickly," the voice warned.

"Weasley, sir."

A thoughtful pause followed. "Continue."

"Seems that one of the brood has developed a fancy for a little piece of Muggle filth. Spends most of his days... and every night with her."

"Which one? Do you have a name?"

"Dunno his name. He's one of those twins, I think."

"Hmm. Not as valuable as some of the others, I fear. But valuable enough, to be sure. Can you produce any proof?"

"Shouldn't be any trouble to snare the little bitch. He'll come runnin' after, make no mistake. Then, with the pair of 'em...."

"Yes, I see your point. One Weasley in the hand may draw out the younger brother, who might in turn bring along something far more valuable. Does anyone else have this information?"

"No, sir. Came straight to you, I did."

"Be sure to keep it that way. And keep in mind, I have friends in very high places. It would not do to cross me."

"You make it worth my while, and we'll have no trouble at all, Mr. Malfoy."

A bag of coins was tossed at him, landing on the floor. He had to stoop to pick it up. But the moment of humiliation was worth it; the bag was heavy with gold.

"Let us shake this tree and see what fruit may fall," Malfoy said smugly.

Author's note: Meredith's funeral rite is adapted from http://www.cofe.anglican.org/lifeevents/funerals. The bible quote is misidentified on this site, however; it is from John 11: 25-26, according to virtually every other online source.