"It's bruising quite bad."

George gently turned Blair's head back to it's right position after moving it to see her neck clearly. Purple fingerprints lined her skin from the grubby hands of Fenrir Greyback and were taking their time in fading. The cuts that his claws had sketched into her neck had been healed by the application of Blair's potion, but the same effect didn't seem to work on bruises. It had worked on Fred's gashes that had been caused by the same Death Eater, yet the bruises and closed wounds couldn't be healed for some reason. Luckily, Blair and Fred weren't seriously harmed and were in stable conditions. George had been worried for his brother and girlfriend, but was relieved to have them waking up the next morning groaning from Jasper's loud yowling from not being fed.

"They're really dark, though," Fred added as he leaned forward, seeing the fingerprints that were black in certain parts. "Do they still hurt?"

"Not really," Blair ran her fingers over the bruises with the slightest wince. "They make my neck ache a little bit. But they're bearable."

"Greyback grabbed you hard as well. He could have snapped your neck, Blair," George crouched down so that he could look up at her. He clasped his hands together and hung them between his legs; his concern evident in his furrowed eyebrows and parted lips. He had been terrified when he had seen Greyback lift Blair off of the floor by her neck. Looking back on it, he couldn't believe that he had been able to hold himself together. Fred had been bleeding his life out and Blair had been taking her last breaths.

It hadn't hit him until they had gotten back to The Burrow. Mad-eye had been waiting for them with Molly, Bill and Charlie when George appeared with Blair stuck to his side and Arthur with Fred's arm over his shoulders and Remus and Tonks unconscious next him. Molly levitated the unconscious couple into the house and set up beds for them to rest in until they came to. Bill and Charlie helped their father with Fred and George with Blair.

Fred only needed rest once Arthur had healed most of his gashes and Blair's potion had worked on the remaining wounds. Mad-eye had made Blair sit down at the kitchen table and asked George to hold her hair up off of her neck, allowing her gruesome skin to be in view. Everyone grimaced at the brutality and thought that she had had her throat crushed. The bruising was already forming and most of her skin had turned black. Veins were prominent and unhealthy looking, as if poisoned and now coursing through the rest of her bloodstream.

"Yikes," Bill exclaimed, the blood leaking out of the five scratches that lined her nape. The outline of Greyback's baseball glove-sized formed around her windpipe and her cheeks were still flushed from the blood that rushed back up to her face once he had dropped her to the floor.

"I think if Arthur hadn't attacked when he did, you would have passed out within the next second. You might have not woken up either," Mad-eye commented and George gulped at his brashness. He looked down to Blair who sat at the table silently, looking exhausted and ready to collapse into a deep sleep. He had wanted to take her back to the flat so she could rest, but he knew the Order would want a wrap up of what had happened.

Realising how close Blair was to death and how much blood Fred had lost, George needed a cup of tea and a moment to calm his thoughts. Molly had sat down beside him and used some of her motherly magic to make him see that they had made it out alive. She had of course been worried to her core about the mission, but was relieved to find that Fred only needed rest and Blair's bruises would heal in the upcoming months. She worried constantly for the Order, but had developed a strategy to be able to sleep soundly at night. And that was to appreciate what had come back from the missions and not think about what might not have. Sirius's death was an unfortunate and terrible loss, but he wouldn't have wanted people to sit around and cry about him all day. He would want the Order to keep up with their missions and look out for each so that they didn't suffer the same fate.

George appreciated his mother's words and said that he'd go back to the flat to try and sleep away the worry like she had instructed. Blair and Fred had slept soundly that night and George was able to slip back into normality.

Back to current time, Blair was sitting on the sofa with the twins in front of her examining her neck. Besides the bruises that were yet to fade, she was fine and was keen to get back to work in the shop downstairs. She had woken up in the morning and had pulled on her purple shirt and orange badge, only to have the twins sit her down in the living room. They wore their brown suits and were reluctant to let Blair back downstairs and into the chaos that came with working at a popular joke shop.

"I don't know, Blair. Customers will think that we've been beating you up or something," George placed his hand on her knee.

"I'm fine, guys," Blair laughed honestly to show that she was ready to work again. "It's been a week and I'm sure Verity is wishing for my return. I'll open up if you two still want to discuss it."

She got up from the sofa and pecked George on the cheek, smiling at Fred as she passed him and left the flat to head downstairs. George sighed and stood up from his crouched position, staring at where Blair had left with uneasy eyes. Fred eyed his brother and pursed his lips, remembering what his father had said to him before they had left London a week ago. Arthur had said that he thought that the Death Eaters weren't planning to attack Muggles, but were luring the Order out in hopes that Blair would follow. There hadn't been an Order meeting since the mission but they were due one soon with the new information Arthur had picked out from the ambush.

"Georgie," Fred called and made the man turn to him, distantly thinking about calling Blair back into the flat.

"Hm?"

"Dad thought that the mission last week was a bit... odd," Fred started and rubbed the back of his neck. "He said that he thought that the Death Eaters weren't in Trafalgar to attack Muggles."

"Why would they have planned it all out? We heard them, remember?" George questioned, confused by his father's perspective.

"He thought that they actually did it in hopes that we would come to stop them. So that Blair would come to stop them."

George blinked and dived back into his thoughts about his girlfriend that was probably already tending to customers downstairs. He had found it odd that Greyback had asked him if she was indeed Blair Rosier and had suspected that it had something to do with You Know Who's desire to recruit her into his following. But he hadn't considered the mission being entirely fake and only put in place to see Blair in the flesh and confirm if she really was the daughter of Evan Rosier. It didn't explain why Greyback had nearly killed her in a choke hold, but it did explain the lack of attackers for the ambush and the failed attempt to injure any large group of Muggles. In fact, no Muggles had been harmed at all. Some were left confused from being obliviated by Arthur, but the Death Eaters hadn't had the chance to even lay a finger on their non-magical heads.

"George," Fred called again and he looked up, seeing him sigh loudly. "I know her and I haven't always gotten along. But I admit that I do... care for her to some extent-"

Fred shivered as if he had swallowed a flubbeworm before continuing on with his speech.

"-and I think it's best that we lay her low for a while," he suggested. "It isn't the safest of times and letting her walk out the shop unsupervised could be fatal. There was a time the other day when she came home and was jumping as if her pants were on fire. It was like she was..."

"Like she was what?" George urged, suddenly anxious from Fred's confession. Fred realised that he probably shouldn't have let so much loose at one time. He had nearly said that it was like she was being chased or followed, but he thought that telling George that would only worry him more. Instead, he blatantly shook his head to show that it didn't really matter and changed the subject smoothly.

"Nevermind. I just think we need to be more careful. She needs to be more careful."

---

Christmas rolled around quicker than anyone expected. The twins and Blair had been closing up for the day a week before the 25th, when a tiny owl flew through the slip of the front door where letters usually dropped in. Pigwidgeon zoomed around the shop before landing on the shelf of Puking Pastilles with an oversized letter clamped in his beak. Blair had been the closest to the owl and took the letter from his beak, letting him head back for the slip in the door and disappear with a small hoot.

"It's from your mum," Blair chirped as she broke the seal that had the classic 'W' stamped into it.

"Probably asking if Georgie's proposed yet," Fred teased and squealed when an elbow was jammed into his ribs. George shoved his brother aside and stood next to Blair as she read the letter, recognising the neat, cursive writing of his mother's.

"She's asking us round for dinner on Christmas Eve and to stay for Christmas Day," Blair informed before giving the parchment to George to read for himself. "I didn't even realise we were in December already."

"That means Aunt Muriel's gonna send a Howler about being left alone at Christmas for another year," Fred groaned and started heading for the stairs that lead up to the flat.

"I still haven't met this Aunt Muriel," Blair butted in and he stopped on his pursuit, turning to her with a grimace.

"Count yourself lucky. She's sure to have been told that you and Georgie are together. She'll definitely have something to say about it."

Fred shut the door with a soft thud and left Blair and George in silence. George had finished reading the letter and folded it back up to sit on the counter. He looked down to Blair and was drawn to the marks that were now faint around the skin of her neck. He was relieved to find that Blair was indeed ready to start working again and could go about her day without needing to sit down from the pain in her throat. The bruises had faded to a maroon shade that didn't look nearly as brutal as the purple they once had been with black spots edges.

"Stop staring at it and worrying yourself more," Blair's voice made him jump and he noticed that she had turned and was looking up at him. Her lips were pulled back into a reassuring smile that he knew was her way of showing that she was fine.

"I'm just admiring its process, sweetheart," George grinned. "And I'm not worrying. I'm thinking about how much it's killing me not to do this."

Blair held in a groan when his lips immediately attached to her skin. Avoiding the bruises, George kissed her flesh and left red love bites down her jugular. His hands had been placed over her hips and he leaned down over her shoulder to reach his target. Blair placed her hands on his rough fingers and peeled them off her waist, stepping forward with the strength she had left in her weak knees. Her neck was now littered with fading bruises and fresh hickeys that had been made by George's skillful lips.

"Fred's probably moaning about dinner," she used an excuse that she knew would irritate George and turned with a teasing smile on her face just to annoy him further. He growled and stepped forward to follow after her in a sulk. But she stopped him from slipping past her by putting a hand on his chest and leaning up close to his face.

"But we can continue later."