rewrite date: 1st of april, 2016
view outfits: fairycastles at polyvore (moving on collection)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries or Harry Potter.

An incessant buzzing.

That's all Nathalie could hear. The constant explosions were finally taking a toll on her hearing. Her throbbing head seemed to be leaking a warm, sticky liquid that was obscuring her vision and she blinked, trying to make out the blurry shapes and figure out what the hell just happened. As her senses returned to her, she realised that she was half buried under a wreckage, leg trapped beneath a nasty piece of rock which was slowly digging into her leg more and more. Her nostrils were flooded with the scent of dust, smoke and blood and she gagged slightly, coughing on the particles making their way down her airways. She lifted her wand, weakly, levitating the rock off her leg when she heard the most horrendous, heart-wrenching cry that no curse, hex or spell could ever cause.

Looking up in alarm, she noticed Hermione scrambling to her feet and two redheads crowing around a boy on the ground. Nathalie's heart dropped to her stomach, sinking further and further as she, too, attempted to pull herself completely out of the wreckage. The sharp rubble dug and tore harshly into her palms, knees and shins and she was losing even more blood but she didn't care. Emerald eyes widened in panic, she somehow managed to get herself off of the floor and she hobbled as quickly as she could towards the body. She couldn't help but beg any higher power that could possibly be listening that it wasn't who she thought it was – it would be entirely unfair and sadistic for the powers above to do this to her yet again. She prayed that they would show her just a little bit of mercy. Just this time.

She should have known it would be far too much to ask.

'No - no - no!' someone was shouting. 'No! Fred! No!'

Her heart stuttered, and she could have sworn it slowed to a stop. She couldn't do anything but stare at Fred, eyes completely wide in horror, the ring on her left hand feeling heavier and heavier each passing second. Those emerald green eyes were immobile but anyone who looked into them would be able to see a flurry emotion behind her horrified expression.

She couldn't say anything.

Later, she would reflect on this moment and wonder whether this is how Hermione felt when she was petrified back in second year. Her mind was running at five thousand miles per minute, but her body just wouldn't respond. All she could focus on was Fred's empty, blank, dead eyes. Percy was desperately shaking his younger brother, tears streaming down his face and Fred's head jostled and rolled so that he was staring directly at Nathalie.

She choked down the bile crawling up her throat with a shuddering breath. When those blank eyes turned to her and the deep pools of brown that she would often seek comfort in showed no sign of that prankster spark, she could only focus on one thing.

That haunting expression on his face would give her nightmares for years to come, the ghost of his final laugh still present. That face told her everything, and the meaning of it crushed her already battered heart into thousands of pathetic, useless pieces. That expression proved only one thing to Nathalie.

Her Freddie was gone.

The dead were lined up in the middle of the Great Hall.

Nobody said a word as Ron and Hermione approached the Weasley's. Their shuddering cries permeated the air, reaching Nathalie's ears as she trailed behind them. Her movements were almost robotic as she slowly made their way towards them. Her mind had never felt so torn, being suffocated with guilt, total despair and borderline numbness in one minute, and terrifying alertness for danger the next. In that particular moment, she had reverted back to the former option; if only she had given herself up when Voldemort asked her to, then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Fred would still be alive. He would have been alright – everyone would have been bloody alright if she had just given herself up in the first place. Maybe he was right; maybe she was a coward, allowing everyone else to die for her.

Nathalie blinked, moving her eyes back into focus. It was with a heart-wrenching jolt that she realised that no matter how battered a heart is, it can always, always break more. Beyond Fred's body were Remus and Tonks, lying side by side, their hands barely touching.

She couldn't have stopped the constant flow of silent tears even if she tried. Without her permission, her legs started taking small steps towards the red headed crowd until they all looked up at her, heartbroken.

Her vocal chords had given up as well. The muscles in her face were tensed to a mask of what seemed to be indifference as she looked at the body, but it was unable to hide her steadily reddening eyes as they became more and more bloodshot. She didn't feel it when Mrs. Weasley took her left hand, eyes widening in surprise when she felt the diamond on her ring finger. She didn't see when everyone except for Ron, Hermione and George gaped at the ring. She didn't hear Mrs. Weasley's sob of 'Why?!' when it dawned on her that she would never see her Fred get married, as he had intended to do as soon as the war was over. Instead, Nathalie brushed a strand of Fred's hair out of his eye, not caring that it was soaked in his blood. Her touch was gentle, almost feather-like – a complete contrast to her turbulent emotions. She could feel her resolve hardening the longer she stared at the peaceful face of her dead lover.

Unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, she pulled out a leather chord necklace that had a simple, silver band attached to it. She undid it, before tying it around her own neck and buttoning the shirt back up and smoothing it down.

Nathalie had enough. She was done with everyone she had come to rely on being ripped away from her; enough of watching her loved ones die for her mistakes; enough of being 'The Chosen One' with expectations that would cause the world's strongest mountain to cave in – above all, she was done with Voldemort. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Fred's forehead, whispering a barely audible 'I love you' and smiled a small, watery smile before she turned to George. Her eyes hardened, moving from total vulnerability to unparalleled determination.

Her face conveyed all of her thoughts to the surviving twin, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what she was thinking. Nathalie stood up and placed her hand in her pocket, clutching the vial of memories Snape had left her with. She looked at nothing except the double doors of the Great Hall as she stalked towards the Entrance Hall, with every intention of going to Dumbledore's office.

The Gryffindor robe she wore to blend in was, surprisingly, still around her shoulders.

It billowed behind her as she went, waving a forlorn goodbye at the family that were watching her sadly.

2 Years Later

'The Wizengamot hereby declare Antonin Dolohov guilty of all charges.'

Nathalie breathed a sigh of relief, tuning out the rest of the trial and the sound of Dolohov's whimpers. This was the last scheduled trial that she was required to attend to give evidence against Death Eaters. Even after two years, it was like the war was never going to end - every time a Death Eater was imprisoned, another one was found and, for some reason, Nathalie seemed to be the favourite person for the Ministry to call on.

She supposed that she shouldn't complain, because at the end of the day, putting away the surviving remnants of Voldemort's army was entirely necessary to restore a sense of safety and peace in the Wizarding World - something which had been completely lacking for over twenty-five years. Nathalie had no doubt that another asshole with delusions of power would pop up at some point, although she had long decided that if her name was used in another prophecy then she might as well cast the killing curse at her own reflection and let it rebound right into her chest.

Nathalie was absolutely certain that, if she reached even half of the level of stress she did during the war, her psyche would not survive it.

Twirling the ring on her left hand, which at some point in the last two years had been moved to her middle finger, she reflected on the last two years of her life.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was now Minister for Magic (thank Merlin) and was doing a supreme job at smacking out corruption within the Ministry. He had offered her an Auror post, which she was more than capable of fulfilling. To everyone's (including her own) surprise, she turned it down. Perhaps one day she would take him up on his offer after he reassured her that the offer would always remain open - however, right now, she was desperate for a break.

It dawned on her not long after the battle at Hogwarts that even though the leader had been destroyed and the war was essentially won, it didn't mean that the battles were over. Now more than ever she was feeling strung out and ragged, more so than when she faced those dragons and basilisks in her younger days (which was a bit backwards, really). Nathalie put it down to her getting too old too fast. Hermione suggested that, even though the events at Hogwarts were together probably more stressful than her current, horcrux-free life, she had been somewhere that was comforting and safe to her. Nathalie could see the logic behind the statement. Hogwarts was her saviour, her safety blanket of sorts and now she was out in the big bad world by herself in an apartment she wasn't too bothered about. Whatever she felt, she didn't feel like she was home. That had been torn away from her time and time again.

It also didn't help that, even now, no matter what she was doing or where she was within the Wizarding community, she still had Daily Prophet writers reporting on what kind of sandwich she had that day. The Saviour of the Wizarding World would never get a moment of peace. And that saddened her, greatly. What she would do just for a quiet life, building a career and a family of her own to help her move on.

Unfortunately, the person that would have helped her move on is the one she grieved most heavily for.

She felt quite selfish sometimes, especially during her moments of self-pity. Fred was George's twin, his other half and even he was taking steps forward. His wedding to Angelina was in just a few days. Nathalie couldn't quite help feeling like she was stopping those around her from truly moving forward. Her despair wasn't this great even for Sirius, Remus, Tonks or her own parents - she put that down to it being a different kind of love.

Looking up, she realised that those present for the trail were beginning to filter out of the room. Giving her ring one last twirl, she stood up as well, grabbing her handbag off the ground and she placed it in the crook of her elbow.

It's over, for right now. Maybe I should go away for a while, she thought. Maybe that would make me feel better.

St. Mungo's had long insisted that she take a break once she explained to the healers that she had a horcrux hidden in her for sixteen years. They were completely under the impression that the presence of two magical sources in her body may have hindered the development of her own magic. Nathalie would, begrudgingly, admit to the fact that her magic felt different than it used to; not necessarily weaker, but it just wasn't the same. This might be the most opportune time for her to make a getaway, to work on herself and her magic.

Pondering this thought, she nodded. She would go into Muggle London and buy a set of darts and a world map. Then she would go away.

'Are you sure you want to do this, Nathalie?' Hermione asked, a frown on her face. The trio were sat in Nathalie's flat in Devon, not too far from the Burrow.

They were in the living room, where Ron was lounging on the plush sofa whilst Hermione stood with her arms crossed watching Nathalie pin a large world map onto the wall. They could hear the sounds of Kreacher in the kitchen, making tea for three and preparing a plate of scones for Ron.

Nathalie nodded, not turning to look at her companions. She knew she wanted a break, but she had no idea where to go. So what does any person who can't choose a location do? They buy a map and a set of darts, throw one and hope for the best. 'I need a break, Hermione. I can't heal here,' she paused, sighing. 'I need to man up and get over it, and if going away will help, then so be it.'

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. They knew exactly what she was talking about, even if they didn't quite know how deeply Fred's death still affected her. Ron grabbed a scone from the tray Kreacher had just brought in, nodding a small thanks in his direction and the grumpy elf gave him a small smile which was more of a grimace than anything. Even if Kreacher rather enjoyed working for Miss Potter these days, it was still difficult for him to let grudges go after living with them his whole life. But he was trying for his Mistress and that's all that mattered.

'No-one's telling you to stop grieving,' Ron said, glancing at his friend cautiously. Nathalie smiled at him.

'I know they're not, Ron,' she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes, 'But it's George's wedding soon. Even George is moving on, and nobody loved Fred more than George did. Still does.'

'You can't measure how long it takes you to move on against George,' Hermione frowned.

'I'm not, Hermione. But I've been trying to get better the past couple of years, and it's not helping here. The healers have said that maybe a change of scenery would help. How bad could it be? It's probably worth a shot seeing as I'm not actually doing anything productive here,' Nathalie shrugged. She ripped open the small packet of darts, before holding them out to Ron and Hermione. 'So who's going to choose where I'm gonna go?'

Hermione slowly reached for the bag of darts, taking them from Nathalie. Her hand tightened around the packet as her eyes narrowed. 'As long as you promise to visit. And you can't leave before George and Angelina's wedding.'

Nathalie laughed. 'Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world. Plus, if I don't come back, Mrs. Weasley might just come and fetch me herself.'

Ron snorted, and Hermione nodded in satisfaction. She pulled out a dart from the packet and threw it at the map. To the amusement of her companions, it bounced off the wall and landed with a small 'thud' on the wooden floors. She huffed indignantly and threw the packet at Ron's head when she heard his laughter. 'You do it then, Ronald,' she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow at her, before pulling another dart out. 'Alright. Relax, would you?' he rolled his eyes as he threw it towards the map.

This time, it hit a target. Nathalie glanced over the map. The dart was stuck in an area called Mystic Falls, in Virginia, America. Contemplating this, she nodded to herself. That would be far enough away, she thought. Nathalie shot a thumbs up at Ron, who smiled smugly as he grabbed another scone.

'Kreacher,' she said, and the elf appeared with a crack. 'How would you like to move away for a while?'

'Whatever Mistress pleases,' he replied, voice monotone. Kreacher's eyes looked up curiously at his Mistress, who looked marginally happier than she had in a long time.

George and Angelina's wedding was in two days, and Nathalie had made plans to go after the reception; Merlin knows the kind of damage Nathalie would receive from every female Weasley if she missed a wedding.

It was for this reason that Nathalie was navigating the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, muttering under her breath as she did so.

Diagon Alley had definitely picked up the pace since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Shop owners lined the streets pulling customers into their stores as parents pulled their children in and out of the crowd shopping for Merlin-knows-what. Even Ollivander's was back up and running, much to Nathalie's joy. It wasn't as busy as it was during the summer, because a lot of kids were still at Hogwarts but it was still heaving. And there Nathalie was, amongst the huge crowd. Shopping.

She needed to get a gift for George and Angelina, as well as stock up on any magical supplies she may need whilst she was away. It was starting to sink in that she truly was moving; she had managed to secure a house in Mystic Falls quite quickly after speaking to a realtor over the phone (and dipping into her hefty Potter/Black fortune). Kreacher had begun to move her things from her little flat to her new home, seeing as elf-apparition was actually a very powerful and wonderful thing and Nathalie would probably splinch herself if she tried to apparate that far. She figured that she could just get any missing furniture whilst she was there - although she should probably transfer a good amount of gold into Muggle money, seeing as she wasn't too sure of what to expect in Virginia, magic-wise.

Nathalie debated whether to get an owl or not. She thought it might be a little cruel to get an owl for overseas post; it would take at least a day for the owl to make the journey, so she decided against it in the end. Ever since Hedwig died, she hadn't managed to convince herself to get a new owl. She would have to convince everyone to invest in phones instead - or check for a fireplace in her new home. Instead, she made her way to Magical Menagerie, shoving her way through the crowd and ignoring the occasional whisper of, 'Look, it's Nathalie Potter!'.

Stepping into the rather unpleasant smelling shop, she drew the attention of the shopkeeper immediately. A slightly chubby, balding man wearing a shirt that had fairly questionable stains on it quickly approached her, a broad smile on his face.

'Miss Potter!' he said happily. 'What can I do for you today?

Nathalie smiled at him, casting her eyes around the shop. 'A companion, I think. That would be nice.'

'Well,' he raised an eyebrow. 'We've just received a shipment of Puffskeins-'

Nathalie shook her head, and the man quieted. She wasn't sure what she wanted, really. Maybe a cat would suffice - she opened her mouth to ask for one, when she felt a warm, furry presence nudging her leg.

She looked down, and saw a white cat with bright, blue eyes and fairly matted, spotted fur and a plumed tail looking up at her expectantly. It reminded her of Crookshanks slightly, and she smiled. Nathalie knelt on the ground, giving the cat a quick scratch behind the ears and it purred in response.

'Is this fella for sale?' she asked, giving it a tickle under the chin.

The shopkeeper faltered. 'Uh- well, Miss Potter- this is actually one of our more troublesome animals. Pretty, but she's had a history of attacking customers. We can't seem to be rid of her. She's a kneazle as well, you see, so that makes her harder to sell-'

'How long does it take to obtain a license?' she interrupted.

'Well, up to three days but it can be rushed to a couple of hours with an extra payment-'

'Alright. Well, I would like to apply for a Kneazle license, please, and purchase this cutie as well. I can come back in a little while to fetch her?'

The shopkeeper was quiet for a moment, before he reached behind his desk and pulled out a small stack of papers for Nathalie to fill out. 'It's an extra fee of eleven galleons for a rush on the license, Miss. And seventeen galleons for the Kneazle.'

Nathalie stood up, sticking her hand in her bag in an effort to find her purse. After a few seconds of rummaging, she pulled it out - she had bought it in Muggle London; it was a dark green leather, a silver twist clasp in the shape of a bird with a coin compartment on the outside and various places for notes, receipts and cards on the inside, about the length of her hand. She opened up the coin compartment, and pulled out the required twenty-eight galleons.

(She had cast an undetectable extension charm in the coin compartment.)

'I assume that there's a fee for the actual license itself, as well?' she questioned. The shopkeeper seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in, before nodding fervently.

'Yes! Sorry, I completely forgot about that, Miss Potter. It's six galleons for the license itself.'

She pulled out another six galleons that he hastily placed in the till and handed her the receipt. Wordlessly, she filled out the small stack of forms and allowed a slightly awkward silence surround herself and the shopkeeper, who rushed off the first chance he got - when a customer walked in.

Straightening herself up when she was done, she turned to the kneazle. 'I'll be back for you in just a little while.' Nathalie smiled.

The kneazle seemed to understand, as she turned and marched herself into a corner, curling up into a ball. Nathalie approached the shopkeeper who was tending to another customer, informed him that she would be back in a few hours for supplies, the license and her new pet, before she walked back out to the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

She didn't quite know what she was doing in Twilfitt and Tatting's, of all shops. Probably the most 'high-class' wizarding clothing shop in London, she had never found the need to go inside because everything she could ever want was at Madam Malkin's.

And yet, here she was, eyeing up the most wonderful travelling cloak that she could bet cost more than her new house in Mystic Falls.

It was beautiful. A deep, midnight black, it was fur-lined throughout and was completely soft to the touch. Surprisingly, one of the most appealing features of the cloak was the fact that it had pockets. Nathalie wanted this cloak. Badly. And damn, she was going to get it.

Turning around to a snooty-looking witch behind the counter who was frowning at Nathalie's clothing choices of the day - a thin, grey jumper with slits going up each side, black leggings and black, thigh-high wedge boots - she opened her mouth to ask for the cloak, when the door opened.

A familiar head of platinum blonde hair walked through the door, followed by three more. Draco Malfoy and his parents, Narcissa and Lucius where here, along with a blonde girl that she vaguely remembered seeing around Hogwarts. Draco and Lucius both looked fed up and bored (which, surprisingly, didn't suit them at all. She was much more accustomed to their arrogant sneer). The girls, however, were chattering excitedly.

Draco looked surprised when he saw Nathalie in the shop. She was a looker, but definitely not one of the most glamorous women he had come across in his life. She gave him a wave, before making her way to the woman behind the counter.

'I want that cloak,' she said shortly, gesturing at the cloak in the window.

'Right - well, that one is quite expensive, Miss. It's spelled with the most advanced heating and waterproofing charms. Perhaps you would like an alternative?' she replied, unable to restrain herself from curling her lip into a light snarl. 'We have a wonderful cloak just come in-'

Nathalie raised a dark, perfectly groomed eyebrow. 'I want that cloak. I would like you to retrieve it for me, so I can pay for it. If you please.'

The woman glared, before standing up and walking to the mannequin. She pulled the price tag from under the hood, before turning back to Nathalie. 'This might be out of your price range, Miss. It is, after all, a hundred and seventy-nine galleons.'

Draco's eyebrows creased in confusion. What the hell would Nathalie need such an expensive travelling cloak for? Of course, he himself was not against luxuries in life - hence why he was in this establishment - but Potter didn't seem the kind to bother paying so much for one item, especially an item of clothing.

'I'll give you two hundred if you just shut up and let me pay for the bloody thing,' she deadpanned, pulling out her purse and slamming a heavy pouch of coins on the counter. The girl looked surprised for a moment, before scrambling to go wrap up the cloak.

'What on earth do you need a travelling cloak for?' Draco finally questioned. His companions had noticed Nathalie at the beginning of the exchange; their expressions were quite neutral, although fairly curious.

It had been no secret that the Malfoy's and Nathalie Potter were somewhat friendlier after the war, especially Draco and Nathalie. She testified at their trial and made sure they got away with little more than probation. They supposed that they owed Nathalie quite a lot - she rejected this, however, saying that they never would have won if Narcissa didn't lie to Voldemort in that forest.

'I'm going away for a while,' she said wistfully, pulling several sickles and knuts out of her purse. After a moment, she gave up and simply poured them over the counter. That witch had annoyed her - so she was going to punish her by making her count out the majority of the price of the cloak in sickles and knuts. Take that, she thought, before realising that she really had to get a life. Rather badly. When the girl returned with the cloak wrapped up, she eyed the pile of silver and bronze coins and couldn't quite keep down the huff of indignation as she started counting them all out.

Draco Malfoy probably made the most inarticulate comment of his life. 'Eh?' He didn't notice the small glares his parents shot him when he made such a sound.

'I think I need a break, don't you?' she replied, smiling. 'I've been called into Death Eater apprehensions and trials constantly for the last two years. A change of scenery would do me good, I think.' She pretended not to notice when the entire Malfoy party cringed at the words 'Death Eater'.

To everyone's surprise, Draco walked over to her and gave her a light hug. 'Well, if that's the case.' He didn't finish his comment - instead, he gathered up the coins that Nathalie had placed on the counter and put them back in her purse, ignoring her squeak of protest. He pulled out a heavy pouch, dropping it on the counter with a thud. Nathalie glared.

'I can pay for my own things, you know,' she said. He knew full well that she was just as wealthy as he was, these days. She had the Potter and Black fortune to her name, as well as money coming to her every month from the Ministry.

'Think of it as a going away present,' he smirked, taking the cloak from the counter and handing it to her. 'It's a rather exquisite cloak.'

She took it, her face expressionless. She eventually gave him a warm smile and gave his arm a squeeze. 'Thanks,' she said.

He shrugged.

She laughed and waved at the group, before stepping out of the shop.

The sight of a marquee in the garden of the Burrow was becoming more and more familiar as the months went by. Wedding after wedding occurred; Bill and Fleur, Ginny and Neville, Hermione and Ron, and now George and Angelina. She could imagine her own marriage occurring in the backyard of the place where she considered home the moment she saw it as well one day.

Nathalie smoothed down her dress gingerly. Although she wasn't overly close with Angelina, she was incredibly close to George. He had insisted that she be the one that marries them, not that it took much convincing. She was completely honoured at the offer, although she regretted it ever so slightly now that the day had come.

Her dress was simple. Audrey Hepburn style, it was a deep red, went to her knees and she wore a gold belt to accentuate her waist. Her shoes were a matte black, round-toe stiletto heel, the platform and the heels themselves the same gold as her belt. In her hand was a black clutch with golden accents (with the added benefit of an Undetectable Extension Charm and a Feather-Light Charm, seeing as she was leaving as soon as the reception was over). Her ears were full of golden jewellery, and she finished her look with a simple gold choker necklace as well as a thick golden bangle around the top of her arm. Her tattoos along her right shoulder and underarm peeked out from beneath the dress. She looked pretty, although she would never be able to steal the show today - which was exactly her intention. Even if she was showing off her Gryffindor pride.

She made her way towards the marquee, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. It didn't take long for her to get there, and took even less someone to notice and approach her.

'Nat!' Bill said happily, giving her a tight squeeze. She hugged him back, laughing slightly at his excitement.

'Where is everyone?' she asked, figuring they were getting ready in their respective areas in the house. She thought she should at least say hello before she married them and left, as she didn't know quite when she would be back.

'George is getting ready in his old room, and Angelina is getting ready in Ginny's old one,' he replied, giving her a once over. 'You look good! When are you leaving?'

News of Nathalie's decision to take a sabbatical of sorts travelled quickly though her surrogate family. Nobody would voice it, but they were glad she was going - not because they didn't love her dearly, because they did, but because they wanted her to finally heal somewhat and if leaving was the way to go about it, then so be it.

'After the reception,' she said, jiggling her clutch slightly. 'I suppose I'd best go find George, huh?'

He nodded, before giving her another quick squeeze and pushing her in the direction of the house. With a parting smile, he went off to find Fleur and Nathalie made her way to George's childhood bedroom.

She knocked, and waited. It took a couple of seconds for someone to come to the door, but after a couple of small crashes and curse words, George peeked out. When he saw his visitor, he opened the door as wide as it could go, grabbed Nathalie and pushed her into his room before slamming it shut again.

'Nervous, then?' she snickered, looking at his dishevelled hair. He had spent most of the morning running his hands through it. Midday seemed to be taking an age to arrive; he just wanted to get it over with and be married, because the stress was bloody awful. Wordlessly, he nodded as he began to pace.

This was so out of character for him, she couldn't help but laugh. Gently, Nathalie took his shoulders and sat him down on his bed, as he looked up at her like a very lost, very scared puppy. She grabbed a brush from his desk, smoothing out his hair, knowing that Angelina would kill him if he turned up looking less than pristine.

'This is absolutely bloody terrifying, Nat,' George said quietly. It was moments like these that reminded her of the differences between the twins. George had always been the more sensitive, mature, gentler of the pair. It was hardly surprising that, without Fred, the beginning of his wedding day wasn't much fun. His statement screamed a thousand hidden meanings - the main one being, 'I wish Fred was here.'

Nathalie smiled sadly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. She moved her hand to his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'I miss him too, Georgie,' she said softly. 'But Angelina makes you happy. You'll be alright.'

'Are you alright?' he asked, looking deeply into her eyes. He saw a flash of pain and an overwhelming sadness in them - Nathalie was very good at keeping a blank face, although her eyes portrayed everything if one knew how to read them. And George definitely knew how to read them.

'I miss him every moment of every day, George,' she whispered, 'But I'll be alright. I just wonder sometimes, would we be married by now? We probably would, and maybe the aftermath of everything would be much easier to deal with if he was here.' The hand that wasn't squeezing George's shoulder had reached up to her neck and pulled out a thin, leather necklace that kept safe a silver engagement band. She fingered it, eyes glazing over for just a moment.

'But enough about me,' she said, a happy gleam returning to her eyes. 'This is your wedding day! There's no place for sadness here.'

'When are you leaving?' he asked, beginning to stand up. Nathalie had to crane her neck a fair bit to see him - she was much shorter than George. It was almost funny, the height difference.

'After your reception,' she replied, jiggling her bag to demonstrate her being packed and ready the same way she did with Bill. 'Kreacher's already moved all of my things, and I should probably go before the Ministry finds a way to make me stay.'

'That's quite soon,' he mumbled. After Fred's death, he had taken a protective role over his would-be sister-in-law. Nathalie could probably credit her mental state to George - he had helped her, just as she tried to help him move on from the loss and, if it wasn't for George, she'd probably be locked up in St. Mungo's.

'I have a fireplace,' she chuckled softly, getting louder when George brightened. 'I checked.' The journey would be hell, seeing as it was overseas and anyone travelling that way would probably be black with soot by the time they arrived as well as being very dizzy, although it was much quicker than flying and much safer than apparition, and less troublesome than a portkey. One of the reasons why she was so open to moving may have been down to the fact that, with magic, nobody was ever too far away.

He grabbed her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around. She laughed as he put her back on the ground, giving her a kiss on the forehead before putting her down. She loved hugging George - it was like being with Fred, although for some reason she could always tell the difference. She leaned into him a little more, giving him a big squeeze before they let go of each other.

Nathalie took his hand, shooting him a genuine bright smile. 'Lets get you married, Mr. Weasley!' she chirped, tugging on his hand.

He groaned, but grinned anyway and let himself be pulled by the petite brunette towards the sound of his mother, shrieking his name as the clock on his bedside table struck 11:45.

'You must come home for Christmas, do you understand?' Molly said sternly, giving Nathalie a firm squeeze as they gathered in the kitchen in the Burrow, saying goodbye to Nathalie before George and Angelina left for their honeymoon.

The wedding was finished. Everything was beautiful, and Nathalie felt a great deal of sadness about leaving this wonderful family. The most important people were here, and their spouses as well. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ron, Ginny and Neville, George and Angelina, Percy and his wife Aubrey, Bill and Fleur, Andromeda and Teddy - even Charlie and Luna were there, much to Nathalie's delight. The room was feeling quite oxygen-deprived, but she didn't mind. Her heart was warmed by everyone's well wishes, hugs and demands that she come home soon. With everyone gathered in one room, she realised that, despite all of the loss she suffered in the war, she still had an incredible family and support system.

It made going away so much easier, because she knew that these people would be waiting for her to come home.

It was like a pass the parcel game - once she had said goodbye to one person, she was passed onto the next. By far, the hardest goodbyes for her were Hermione, Ron, George and Teddy.

First came Hermione. She had squeaked, trying to choke back her tears and tackled Nathalie in a tight hug. (If you need anything, then come home. Call. Skype me. You have my username, don't you? If you get into any trouble, you need to let me know. Promise me!)

Ron was slightly less emotional, although the bear hug he gave her said a thousand words. Casting a slightly worried glance at Hermione (who was trying very hard not to cast a charm on Nathalie to make her stay), he simply said, 'What Hermione said,' which drew a watery chuckle from Nathalie.

George repeated his earlier actions - he picked her up, swung her around and kissed her on the forehead. There was nothing that needed to be said between the two - Nathalie knew. George knew. They both knew what the other would have said, so they left it at that.

Teddy's hair was blue. His hair often went this colour when he was sad. 'Natnat!' he said, reaching for her. Nathalie took him from Andromeda's arms before pulling him into a tight hug. He was usually quite a squirmy baby - this time, though, he put his head in the crook of her neck and cuddled into her.

'Natnat come home,' he mumbled. Nathalie took a shuddering breath, fighting back the tears as everyone in the room looked on at the scene, which was tugging at their heartstrings.

'Of course I'll be home, Teddybear,' she said, giving him a few kisses. 'I'll be home for holidays, and everybody's birthdays. I'll come back all the time.'

'Promise?' he said, looking her in the eye. His hair began to change colour from a deep blue to a light brown - he was cheering up.

'Promise. Especially for Teddy's birthday,' she grinned. 'Wouldn't want to miss you turning into a big three, now, would I?'

'No,' Teddy said firmly, nodding at her. The occupants in the room laughed, and the mood lightened considerably. Nathalie gave Teddy one last kiss, before she summoned Kreacher. He arrived in the room with a loud crack!, looking distastefully around the room before turning to his master. In his hand, he clutched onto the cage containing Nathalie's new pet (which she still hadn't gotten round to naming).

'Is Mistress ready to go?' he mumbled, not looking anyone in the eye. She pulled out her new travelling cloak, courtesy of Draco, from her clutch, draping it around her shoulders and tying it around her neck. Nathalie nodded at Kreacher, taking his free hand and waving at everyone in the room with the hand she held her clutch in. Without a warning, Kreacher disapparated with a loud crack!, and Nathalie Potter was gone.

The reception had only lasted into the early evening. George and Angelina were anxious to go on their honeymoon, and it had finished at about eight thirty.

This meant that, when her and Kreacher arrived in her new home, it wouldn't be long until sunset, if she had calculated the time difference correctly.

Nathalie put her clutch down before going to the front door of her house, stepping outside for a first-hand look at the property she had rushed to buy.

It was a quaint house, but on a large, fairly secluded property. She figured that she needed privacy so random people wouldn't happen across Kreacher - that would bring about a lot of panicked questions that Nathalie couldn't even begin answering. The realtor had told her that it was built in the prohibition era, although by the looks of it, it had been remodelled. It had a modern-cottage feel; woodsy, very brown with a driveway, lots of windows and a large garden until it hit the tree line to the forest beyond the home. Vines grew up and around each wall of the home that added to the woodland feel it all. There was a small greenhouse nearby, which Nathalie was very excited about - she had a few plants, mainly magical, that needed care and a few seeds she had planned on planting as well.

She was satisfied with the outside of the house, and made a mental note to get herself a car in the near future. Not like she needed to drive, but it would help with blending in and she couldn't apparate anywhere when a) she didn't know the town at all, and b) there were muggles absolutely everywhere. She made a mental note to cast some protective charms around the house when it got dark. She wasn't going to risk it right now, so she made her way back inside to inspect it and see if she could make any improvements.

There was a small hallway area that lead to an open-plan kitchen and living room, bathroom and a staircase which led upstairs. Nothing seemed overly interesting downstairs. She knew there was a cellar, and there was also a cupboard under the stairs that lead to the small storage area. She wandered down, checking for any faults or dampness. She found none. Nathalie turned to Kreacher.

'If you want, Kreacher, you can have the cellar to do whatever you want with,' she said. A face-splitting grin crossed his face, much to her surprise.

'Oh, yes, Mistress! Mistress is too kind,' he said excitedly, hopping a couple of times, the fake Slytherin locket bouncing on his chest. She put her hand on his head affectionately before making her way back up the steps. She continued up - there were two bedrooms and one bathroom that joined the two upstairs. One was considerably larger than the other, which she claimed as her own. She figured the other one could be a guest bedroom, for when Teddy comes to visit. She made a mental note to go out and buy some furniture the next day - the house was depressingly empty with only a sofa in the living room, as she had only ordered Kreacher to bring her belongings and leave nearly all of the furniture.

She wandered around her bedroom which faced the back of the home, away from the driveway. The window was large, almost floor-to-ceiling, giving her a lovely view into her garden and there was a large ensuite with lots of glass and brown panelling, a waterfall shower and a bathtub fit to throw a party in. She also had a walk-in wardrobe, enough space to put all of her clothes and shoes in probably two, even three times over.

It was a nice place, and she was happy she found it, but there was one part of the house she hadn't found yet - the loft.

To her surprise, the entrance to the attic was in her bedroom, in the far corner. Pulling on the trap door, a flimsy ladder fell out. She climbed it slowly, trying not to disturb it too much so she wouldn't fall.

It was a small space, but nothing an Undetectable Extension Charm wouldn't fix. It was also extremely dusty, but nothing that a quick Scourgify and Tergeo couldn't clean up. All in all, the house was great. It suited her needs, and now that she knew what the attic looked like, she could just apparate up here if she needed to. This room would be her magic haven, she decided. And no one would find it.

She apparated back into her bedroom. She muttered an Evanesco at the ladder, removing the death trap and flicked her wand at the trap door, which sealed shut. She then cast a concealment charm on the door, and her haven was safe.

With a sigh, Nathalie realised just how tired she actually was. Kreacher had put her boxes of clothes in her bedroom, so she reached in for a set of pyjamas and quickly got changed, sticking her dirty clothes in the corner of the room.

Tucking her wand in her waistband, Nathalie reached into her clutch and pulled out a laptop and the charger that came with it, before padding her way downstairs. The floors were so very cold on her feet - carpets may be a necessity in this house, she decided.

She made her way towards the sofa, casting a quick cleaning charm before she settled onto it and transfigured herself a large, fluffy blanket from a bit of fluff on the ground. She felt herself relaxing - not long after that, the jetlag and excitement of the wedding day had caught up to her and she was fast asleep, leaving Kreacher to pluck the machine out of her hands and place it on the ground next to her.

Nathalie's new kneazle hopped up onto the windowsill, staring out into the forest. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, although she was a magical creature – she could sense that things may not be as they seemed. The cat glanced over at her new master. She was kind, with good intentions and she was happy to have Nathalie as her master. She hopped off the windowsill, padding quietly to the sleeping figure on the sofa before jumping up and snuggling into her chest. Nathalie stirred slightly, although she stayed asleep – instead, she wrapped her arms around her new companion, and continued to dream.

I couldn't help myself.
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