If seven months ago, I had realized that the last words I said to Riley Adams were that I didn't care about her and she should sleep somewhere else were the last words I'd say to her I would've kept my mouth shut, and the door open. I would've pulled her into my arms, and told her it didn't matter what she and Draco Malfoy were doing down by the lake, and that I trusted her. I would've pulled her into my bed and kissed every inch of her that I could reach. I would've held her closer than I ever had before, and never let her out of my sight again.

It had been easy, at first, to just be angry. To imagine she was off shagging some other bloke, that she hadn't been that great after all, and to carry on as if there wasn't some gaping hole in the shop where she used to be. Once a month, a check would come in the mail. This is the best I can do. Sorry. –R. And George would send one back, with a greater amount. No, Rye, this is how much you made. Please stop and come home. Love, Fred and George. For a while, he faked in a few extra loves from me, but I didn't care. For the first month I was a ball of rage. The second month it dwindled, but it was still a refusal to accept any sort of feelings about her being gone.

Once the school year had ended and Dumbledore was dead, profits started to fall, and the expense of keeping open went open. Then, we needed the checks she sent every month, but I ripped them up before we could even sit to discuss what was happening. We closed the shop, and ran it out of the Burrow. We left a note inside the flat that was ours by now, that we'd had to head home. George wrote that, too, as if I'd want her to come find us. I still didn't. On the Muggle-end of town, I found myself too many nights during the summer flirting with other girls, leading them on, and never being able to follow them home. Eventually, they'd say something too stupid or ask something too prying, and all I'd hear in the back of my head was her laughter. She was laughing at me for trying to find her in some shined up Muggle girl. It made me even angrier.

George and mum sat me down and told me we should go find her, that she'd be safer with us. That nothing could've been so bad that we couldn't make up. My mother told me we could all be dead by the year's end, and wouldn't I at least invite her to the wedding? But, she was laughing at me. I let myself drink too much at the wedding, and was halfway up the stairs to my bedroom, my prick prying its way up one of Fleur's distant cousin's dress when the shit really hit the fan. We moved again, now there was no chance of her ever tracking us down. I'd have to make the first move.

It had been six months. She must've just been off with someone else, maybe living it up at the Malfoy Manor, or finally living up to her word and fucking Lee Jordan when she wanted to. I felt dead inside. I worried about my family, sure. I worried about my own safety. I kept up the business by owl, cheery and hopeful. But it all turned to burnt out husks where she once kept me going.

The radio crackled away every night. This week's list of missing witches and wizards is a long one, folks. We tried not to hear it, not to count. If a name mum or dad recognized came up, they would mumble something about going to school, about hosting great parties. George had lost an ear bringing Harry back, Moody was dead. Luckily, we felt no other blows, even though Ron was off gallivanting Merlin knows where with Harry and Hermione, risking their lives like it was all on their shoulders.

Mum and Ginny were washing the dishes the night before Ginny was set to hop the train back to Hogwarts. There had been enough fighting about that.

"Trescott, Lillian. Maverna, Elaine. Broderick, Michael. Adams, Riley."

Mum let an inhumanely loud gasp, and the plate she had been holding shattered at her feet. The sound echoed in my ears as I felt the world around me grow cold.

Dead, then. Not fucking around, not spiting you. Dead. Dead, dead, dead. The girl you love is dead.

Mum and Ginny and George were staring at me, six eyes brimming with red and wet pain.

I slowly breathed in. And let it out shakily.

"That is the end of our broadcast tonight. Keep safe." The radio crackled out.

I was up and out the door in an instant. The air was chilled, but not cold enough. I wished, insanely, that it had been much colder, that I could lie down and freeze to death outside my very home. Dead, dead, dead. Riley is dead.

I was halfway across the yard.

"Fred!" My mother was screaming. "Fred, get back here!"

I kept walking, nearing where I knew the barriers to end. Screw safety, screw protection. She was dead, for Merlin's sake.

George was just behind me. "Mate, stop!" He grabbed me.

I stood still, shaking my head.

"Fred, there's nothing we can do. You know if you go out looking, you'll not find her, and you'll probably be killed." George wouldn't release me from his grip. He lowered his voice. "She wouldn't want that, mate. You know she wouldn't."

I fell to my knees. "I killed her."

"Fred…" But, he didn't have a rebuttle.

"I made a mistake." I shook my head, and then bellowed. "I made a bloody mistake!"

Mum was beside me, wiping at tears I didn't know I had shed. I was a shaking, cold, mess.

It didn't get much better. The month passed, and her name was repeated a few times. Each time was like salt in a deep wound. One night, her father's name came up under confirmed deaths. I worried hers wouldn't be far behind.

It had been a long while since we had left Aunt Muriel's house. An achingly long while. So, we Dad forgot his lunch, George and I spent the majority of the morning convincing Mum we'd be safe delivering it straight to him in his office. Somehow, she let us out.

The journey there felt nice. From the Muggle-end of London, everyone seemed relaxed and normal. We stretched our legs, we laughed, and we joked. The sun felt nice on our skin, and we had a moment of peace, the first in seven months.

Of course, crossing the threshold of the Ministry of Magic was a different story. We had come many a time to visit Dad, and the people had always been cheery and bustling. Now, everyone looked as if Death himself may come to collect that day, and couldn't walk slower.

We finally got into the lift, George pressing in the button for Dad's floor. The doors slowly began to slide shut, but as they did, I looked back across the darkened lobby way, and just beyond the statue now perverted beyond its original intent, I saw her.

I reached a hand out to stop the door. "Riley!"

Two men had her, pressed between the two of them. She was thrashing, her eyes for a moment looking like a trapped animal. But, it was her. It was her. Not dead.

My feet were pounding on the marble floor. My heart was in my ears. Not dead, not dead, not dead! I was shouting her name, causing a scene, but I didn't care. Her eyes lifted from her captors and she looked at me, and her eyes lit up. Lit up like it hadn't been seven months.

"Fred!" She freed herself from their grasp and reached out for me, and I brought her small body to mine. "Oh my god, Fred."

But, the men were pulling her away from him. "Sir, please step back, official Ministry business." They were dragging her away before he could protest.

"Where are you taking her?" Fred demanded, keeping up with the two men.

"Bellows. Court room 5, if you're into watching half-bloods burn." The man chuckled.

"What? Let her go!" I reached for her again, and she escaped their grasp long enough for me to press my lips to hers.

"Listen, missy, do that again and you won't live long enough to make it to the trial!"

Riley let them drag her towards a nearby lift. "Listen, Fred, I need you to go get my mother!"

"Your mother?" I was still at their heels, ready to draw my wand.

"Fred, don't!" She scolded. "They think I'm not a witch, Fred, they're putting my blood status before the committee!"

They were pulling her into the small elevator and pushing me backwards.

"You have to get my mother, Fred! She's a witch, and she lives in New York, in an apartment on 6th avenue!" She looked panicked as the doors shut and the lift began to move, the three of them beginning to disappear from sight.

One of the men slapped her across the face. "Yeah, right, hush up."

I leapt towards them to defend her, but she was already halfway gone. "Don't you touvh her!"

"Belinda!" She finally spouted over the laughter of the men holding her. "Belinda Montegomery! Bring her here, please!"

She was out of sight. I spun around, looking for George. He hadn't even gotten off the lift. I hopped into the next one that opened and slammed the button for Dad's floor.

The lift took too long, it felt. Every second was another second she was in those men's hands, she was in danger.

My blood status is on trial. He had never even thought of it, that Riley wasn't a full-blood witch. He had always just assumed she was, or that if she was Muggle-born it didn't much matter. Of course, they had met her father, and he was a wizard.

If you like watching half-bloods burn.

I dashed down the halls, knocking people out of the way. In a moment, I was at Dad's office door, and George stood there, looking as panicked as I felt. Both he and Dad looked at me expectantly.

"It's Riley," I huffed. "They've got Riley."