Caught Between Twins (Fred & George Weasley)

TW: This chapter contains mature themes, emotional distress, and explicit content. Reader discretion is advised.

...

Two weeks.

That was how much time it took for Fred and Daisy to regain their energy after the ritual. All they did was sleep, barely eat, and drown in calming potions to ease the stinging sensation pressing on their stomachs.

George had been taking care of them without ever making it feel like a burden, even if his brother couldn't hide the remorse of having been so easily kidnapped and forcing them into the situation of risking their lives to save him.

All three of them had been hidden in her apartment, now heavily warded by Sirius, who felt tired of a lifetime of being useless when it came to making his daughter feel safe—some nights he even slept on the couch, helping himself to the only thing inside her fridge: wine.

Ginny and Hermione had passed by to check on them, cooking, cleaning, doing what they could to show how close they were in such a delicate moment—no one should have to feel so afraid to walk outside their own home.

However, they managed to take George to The Burrow for some well-deserved rest he hadn't had in the past few days—he needed to be taken care of, too.

That only left Daisy and Fred lying under the sheets in a failed attempt to shield themselves from the cruelty of the outside world, their love for each other the only weapon in case of another attack.

Lost in silence, gazing at the ceiling—him caressing her skin gently, her tracing mismatched patterns on his bare chest—their attention shifted toward the window, where the purest owl to ever float in the sky landed at the end of the bed, resting a letter on the mattress for them to catch.

For a second, Daisy hoped it was from her mother, since she had been the only person who still hadn't written anything about what happened in that coven mansion, nor passed by to check on her daughter and her beloved—shut out again, as many times before.

The long-awaited bond still hadn't found its way back into their lives. Too much had happened in the past, and a reassuring hand apparently hadn't healed as many wounds as Daisy hoped—some were still too fresh.

Minerva had stained her own daughter's soul for the mere fun of this magic, careless of the consequences and the lasting effects. She had never taken her daughter's side in school, just gave a generous donation to ask for forgiveness, without listening to both sides of the story.

Once freed from Lucien, her mother had never spoken of it again, as if it were a nightmare that lasted just a day, nothing worth discussing or helping with. It was better to pay healers to listen to her instead of doing so herself.

And the worst part was that, after finding out Sirius was the one capable of making a pregnancy possible—after Marcus and Minerva seemed cursed to have one due to a lifetime of practicing this kind of magic—she still shut her daughter out of it.

Maybe things wouldn't have been different. Not having a father figure was the only certainty in her life, but not knowing about it because someone else decided she wasn't ready made it the deepest desire in Daisy's heart.

In just this little time, seeing with her own eyes how caring Sirius was toward a girl he had no responsibility for, she blamed Minerva—because this could've saved her countless times over these last years, lingering between utter depression and dangerous happiness.

No, it wasn't her mother who had finally decided to write. The snow-white owl was too elegant, too trained, too kind. It was from Bill and Fleur—an announcement that opened up thousands of possibilities for whoever got the same letter.