19. salvatore

The first thing Talwyn noticed was the pain. Dull and deep, radiating from her leg and chest like someone had tried to carve her apart and then stitch her back together with fire. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat, and her limbs felt like they were sinking into the mattress beneath her.

The second thing she noticed was that it was soft. The bed. The air. The light that poured through the window in buttery slants. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and dust and a little bit like hay.

She blinked against the warm light, eyes sluggish, lashes sticky with dried tears and smoke.

Where am I?

She turned her head, slow and careful, like it was filled with lead.

The walls were faded yellow. There were mismatched posters peeling slightly from old wooden beams. A hand-knit quilt was tucked over her legs.

This wasn't the manor.

It wasn't Hogwarts either.

It was her bedroom at the burrow.

Then she saw him, at the edge of her bed.

George.

Slouched in a chair that looked far too small for him, head resting against the side of the mattress like he'd fallen asleep there, guarding her like a sentry.

He looked like hell. His lip was split, a purpling bruise bloomed along his jaw, and one of his knuckles was still bandaged.

But he was smiling.

When he noticed her moving, his head lifted instantly, eyes meeting hers.

"Hey," George said, his voice hoarse and impossibly gentle.

Talwyn stared at him.

For a moment, she couldn't speak. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Then it all came rushing back.

The smoke. The screams. The chandelier crashing to the floor. Her father's voice, venomous and final. That curse, Crucio, so sharp, so endless.

She sucked in a breath and jerked upright, only to cry out as pain tore through her ribs and down her side.

"Theo- my father- what happened? Where is he?" she gasped, wild-eyed. "I can't be here, George. You've already done enough. If he finds out- he'll kill you. He'll kill your whole family. You don't understand, he knows-"

"Hey, hey, no- don't do that," George interrupted, voice urgent now as he reached forward to steady her shoulders. "You're okay. You're safe."

She was shaking. She couldn't stop shaking.

He waited until she calmed, his hands grounding her like an anchor in the storm. Then he spoke again, voice softer. "I'm gonna go get Theo for you. I think he's in the kitchen. I'll be right back, okay?"

She didn't answer. She only watched him go, confusion and panic etched into every inch of her face.

We can't be here.

Her thoughts spiraled. Theo shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. He'll come for us. He'll burn this place down to get to us.

She couldn't protect George's family from that.

Not again.

Not if-

"Hey, Wynie."

The voice cut through her panic like a blade.

Theo.

She whipped her head to the door. He stood just inside, his silhouette framed by the warm glow of the hallway. His face was pale, shadowed under the eyes, older than it had looked just days ago.

"Theo-" she started, her voice breaking, "we have to go. Father knows we'd come here, he's probably already on his way-"

"He's not," Theo said firmly, but his feet didn't move. He stayed there, just inside the room, arms crossed tightly like he was holding himself together.

"You passed out after the second curse," he said after a long beat. "You've been asleep for almost a full day."

Talwyn blinked at him. "What-?"

Theo's jaw tensed. He looked like he hadn't slept, like the weight of a thousand decisions was pressing down on him all at once.

"But after he cursed you again, Tal..." His voice faltered. He looked away for the first time, eyes glancing toward the window like he couldn't face her.

She stared at him. "Theo, what happened?"

He didn't answer right away.

So she sat up straighter, ignoring the pain and the spots in her vision. "Theo. What happened?"

He swallowed hard.

"He's gone."

The room tilted.

Talwyn felt it before she understood it. Her stomach dropped out from under her.

"Gone," she echoed. Her voice was small. Hollow. "You mean..."

"Dead," Theo confirmed in a whisper.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Her lips parted, but no words came. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears now, too loud, too fast.

"How? Who-"

"Me," he said.

Just one word.

One syllable.

But it hit her like a curse.

Theo finally took a step closer, his eyes glassy but set like stone. "He was going to do it again. He would have killed you. I- I didn't think. I just did it."

Talwyn's mouth opened, then closed.

The silence between them stretched, raw and trembling.

Theo looked like he was waiting for her to scream. To run. To hate him.

But all she could do was whisper, "You saved me."

Theo didn't move.

His hands were fists at his sides. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes dropped to the floor like he couldn't bear to see the look on her face for even a second longer.

"I didn't mean to," he muttered, voice low and tight. "I just reacted. I wasn't thinking. I didn't plan it, I didn't-"

"Theo..."

"I killed him, Talwyn." His voice cracked. "No matter what he did, he was still our father. That blood is in me now. It'll never go away."

He turned from her, like he was already expecting her to recoil, to scream, to shove him away.

But she didn't.

Talwyn pushed the blankets aside, wincing as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Pain lanced through her side, but she gritted her teeth and stood anyway.

Theo took a step back instinctively, shame painted across every line of his face.

And then she walked forward, and threw her arms around him.

He froze.

Just for a moment.

Then she felt him crumble. His arms wrapped around her shoulders like he didn't trust the world not to disappear beneath his feet. His breath caught in her hair, ragged and broken.

"You did what he never would've done," she whispered. "You protected me. You made a choice. That doesn't make you like him. That makes you nothing like him."

Theo's hands fisted in the back of her shirt, and for the first time in what felt like years, he let himself fall apart.

There, in the quiet of the Burrow, they just stood like that. Two war-torn siblings, bruised and burned, holding the only piece of family they had left.

Eventually, Theo pulled away first, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, muttering something about finding tea or toast or a new planet to live on. Talwyn gave him a small, tired smile and nodded, her own chest still aching, but lighter now. For the first time in what felt like ages, the weight wasn't suffocating.

She moved slowly, every muscle screaming in protest, as she made her way down the narrow staircase of the Burrow. Her hand slid along the wooden banister for balance, her breath catching at every step. The scent of something warm and cinnamon-sweet wafted through the air, and the gentle sound of voices filtered up from the kitchen and living room.

When she reached the last step, the world came into view.

Lorenzo and Mattheo were slouched on the mismatched Weasley couch, both of them barefoot and wrapped in worn, oversized sweaters. Mattheo was in the middle of telling some ridiculous story, and Lorenzo was laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

She froze at the sight.

It was so... normal.

After everything. After the screaming and smoke and curses and pain, it was just a couple of teenage boys laughing in the living room like they didn't just have the Dark Lord breathing down their backs.

Then her eyes shifted.

Fred and George were leaning against the kitchen table, heads close together, mid-conversation. Fred threw his head back with a snort of laughter, clapping his brother on the shoulder. George smiled, one of those soft, rare smiles that tugged something deep in her chest.

She was about to step forward when she heard someone gasp.

"Talwyn?"

Molly Weasley.

Before she could brace herself, Molly was rushing around the corner with Arthur close behind, eyes wide with both joy and horror. Talwyn barely had time to register the blur of red hair and apron before she was pulled into the warmest, tightest hug of her life.

"Oh, sweetheart- my girl, thank Merlin-" Molly cried, clutching her like she could physically hold her together. "You're safe, you're safe- oh, look at you, you poor thing..."

Talwyn blinked rapidly, stunned. Her arms slowly lifted and wrapped around Molly, and for the first time in so long, she felt what it was like to be held without condition.

Arthur came up beside them, gentle hand on her shoulder. "Welcome home, Talwyn," he said, quiet and kind.

And just like that, like the words had finally given her permission, her knees gave out, and Molly held her tight as she began to cry.

Molly didn't let go, not until the sobs quieted into soft, trembling exhales against her shoulder. Even then, she kept one hand on Talwyn's back like a tether, like if she let go too soon, the girl might float away.

"You're alright now," Molly whispered as she eased her back to look at her properly. "You're safe, darling. No one's going to touch you here."

Talwyn nodded, but her throat was too tight to speak. Her eyes flicked to Arthur, who gave her a quiet nod of reassurance, and then to Fred and George, who had stopped talking and were now watching her.

George's smile was small, careful, but when their eyes met, she could see the relief behind it, the unspoken you're still here.

Fred gave her a goofy little salute, his voice light. "Nice of you to finally wake up. We were starting to take bets."

"Fred thought you'd sleep another week," George added.

Talwyn let out a breath of laughter, just a small one, but it was real. She wiped her face, glancing over at the couch.

Lorenzo and Mattheo had quieted now. Lorenzo gave her a lopsided grin and a little wave. Mattheo just lifted his brows in greeting, then dropped his eyes again like it physically pained him to admit he'd been waiting for her to come downstairs too.

Theo reappeared from the kitchen with a mug in each hand and handed one off to her wordlessly. It was tea: hot, a bit too sweet, and exactly what she needed.

"Sit," Molly urged gently, leading her to the chair closest to the fireplace. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders the second she sat. "You need rest, you need food, you need care." Then she started speaking to everyone. "Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione are all coming home for the weekend. I decided we needed a family weekend, they'll be here soon."

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The past couple hours, Talwyn had been playing games with all of her friends, all of her friends that were safe and under one roof. She still couldn't believe it. 

Molly perked up, shouting from the kitchen. "Ah- they're here!"

Talwyn's stomach turned over. She suddenly became very aware of how hollow her cheeks were, how bruised her arms looked, how haunted she must seem.

George caught the flicker of panic in her eyes and leaned in a little closer. "You don't have to say anything. You don't have to explain anything. Just be here."

The door opened.

Voices filled the house quickly. 

"-I swear to Merlin, if you ate all the apple tart, Ron-"

"I didn't! That was Ginny!"

"Oh, brilliant, now we're all going to starve-"

And then, two new figures stepped into the living room.

"You must be George's Talwyn," Hermione breathed, eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Her voice was gentle, almost reverent, like she was finally meeting someone she'd heard too many stories about.

Talwyn swallowed hard, blinking as the realization hit. She'd never met Hermione or Harry before, only heard their names whispered in hushed tones, both with awe and warning. Her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

"Mione-" Ron muttered with a mock-scolding tone, nudging her with his elbow. "You're going to scare her off."

Talwyn's eyes flicked over to George, whose face was now completely flushed. His freckles stood out even more against the sudden pink in his cheeks.

Ron grinned at her and leaned forward a little. "It's good to see you again, Talwyn."

"It is," Talwyn said softly, her voice steadier now as she offered a smile. "And it's nice to finally meet you both," she added, looking between Harry and Hermione.

Harry stepped forward slightly, offering her a warm and genuinely kind smile. "It's a pleasure," he said, voice calm and sincere. "We've heard a lot about you."

Suddenly, Ginny's voice cut through the moment. "Thank Merlin you're back, Tal. George was getting so annoying."

Talwyn let out a small laugh as she watched George roll his eyes and shove his sister lightly. "You were sulking too," he shot back with a teasing grin.

Ginny only giggled and skipped off to the kitchen where Molly was clattering about.

A moment later, Molly's familiar, comforting voice rang out: "Dinner's ready!"

The living room came alive with motion. Chairs scraped back, voices overlapped, and soon the large, welcoming Weasley dining table was completely full, every seat taken. Talwyn found herself seated between Theo and Lorenzo, the three of them forming their own little island of quiet amidst the chaos. George sat directly across from her, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet hers. Every time they did, he smiled, small, sincere, grounding.

Molly tried to wrangle the table into some semblance of order as dishes were passed around and silverware clattered. "How was the ball the other night?" she asked, her voice light as she tried to encourage conversation.

"I had a great time," Fred said immediately, his mouth already full of potatoes. "Not sure where George went, though." He gave his twin a wicked grin. "He left rather early."

George, mid-sip of water, choked and nearly spit it out. He reached across the table to smack Fred on the back of the head.

"Boys!" Molly scolded, though her eyes were dancing with barely-hidden amusement.

"How about you dears?" she said, turning toward Talwyn, Theo, Mattheo, and Lorenzo. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, it was lovely," Talwyn answered smoothly, her tone polite.

Theo scoffed and leaned forward slightly. "Like you would know," he said dryly, his lips twitching in a smirk. The Weasley twins' humor was clearly rubbing off on him.

Talwyn snorted and mimicked George's earlier motion, swatting the back of her twin brother's head lightly. "Watch it."

Laughter erupted around the table, warm and full and honest. It settled in Talwyn's bones like a balm. This was what she needed, what she'd barely let herself hope for. A moment of peace. Of family.

As the meal wore on, the conversation turned from light-hearted gossip to more personal matters. And after a comfortable lull, Hermione cleared her throat gently. "If you don't mind me asking," she said cautiously, her gaze flicking toward Talwyn, "what exactly happened at the manor?"

The room quieted. Even the clink of forks on plates seemed to fade.

George sat up straighter, his tone shifting slightly, still gentle but edged with something protective. "Fred and I went there because Talwyn said she'd be back by morning, and... she wasn't."

Talwyn looked down at her plate, her appetite suddenly gone.

Fred jumped in, grinning like it was all just another adventure. "Let's just say George and I blew the shit out of that house."

"Language!" Arthur called from the head of the table, not even looking up from his mashed potatoes.

Fred snorted. "Alright, alright- blew the heck out of that house. Better?"

George rolled his eyes fondly but then looked back at Hermione, Harry, and Ron. "Fred and I started it, but... Talwyn was the real badass."

"Language!" Molly snapped from her seat, shooting George a pointed look.

"What?" George said innocently. "That one barely counts."

A ripple of chuckles spread through the table, easing the tension for a moment.

"No, I wasn't," Talwyn said softly, a small smile touching her lips. Her heart still ached with the memory. She reached over and placed her hand gently on Theo's knee. "Theo was the real salvatore."

He looked over at her, eyes glassy but grateful, and nodded once.

"Salvatore?" Ron asked, clearly confused.

"It means Savior in Italian," Hermione answered, without missing a beat. Her tone softened as she looked at Theo. "It's a beautiful word."

Theo didn't speak. He only gave a half-shrug and blinked hard, as if trying to hold himself together. Talwyn gave his knee a small squeeze and leaned into his side.

"You saved me," she whispered, just for him.

And Theo, who had once been so cold and distant, turned and whispered back, "You saved me first."

A moment passed before Ginny stood up suddenly and clapped her hands. "Right, if anyone wants dessert, they better help me find where Mum hid the pie."

Talwyn laughed, grateful for the shift. The room stirred back to life around her. But inside her, something had changed, something subtle but significant. She was surrounded by love, by family. She had been through hell and had come out the other side.

And for the first time in a long time, she truly believed she wasn't alone.

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Later that evening, the house had quieted.

Most of the others had drifted into different corners of the Burrow, Fred and Ron were deep into a game of Exploding Snap, Ginny was in the kitchen helping her mum with leftovers, and Mattheo had disappeared upstairs with a book Lorenzo claimed he'd never finish.

Talwyn had stepped out into the backyard for some air, sitting on the edge of the old wooden bench beneath the fairy-lit tree. She didn't hear Theo approach at first, but then he sank down beside her, holding two mugs of warm tea. Again.

She took hers with a smile and a soft, "Grazie."

Theo glanced at her, a slow, fond look passing over his face. "You know... we stopped speaking Italian after Mum died."

Talwyn's hands froze around the mug. The warmth inside didn't reach the chill that suddenly clutched at her ribs.

"I know," she said quietly.

"I hated it," Theo continued, voice low. "At first, I thought I stopped because it hurt too much. Reminded me of her. But really... I think I just couldn't stand the sound of something that used to feel like love, after everything else started to fall apart."

Talwyn didn't speak. Her throat was too tight. She stared ahead at the garden, lit softly in the moonlight.

"But tonight," Theo went on, "when you called me your salvatore... it didn't hurt. It felt like her. Like family. Like something I want to hold on to."

She turned to look at him, her eyes misty. "I missed it too. I missed us."

Theo nodded, and then bumped her shoulder gently with his own. "We're getting us back."

That was all. No dramatic declarations. Just a quiet promise in the dark.

After a while, Talwyn stood, telling him she was going to head up to bed. Theo didn't try to stop her, just smiled that small, tired smile that said everything without needing words.

Her room was simple but cozy. She had missed it when she was gone. She changed slowly, wincing as she caught sight of the bruises mottling her ribs and the large gash on her leg that was no covered by a large bandage. Her reflection looked older somehow, more shadowed around the eyes. But still her.

She had just curled under the blankets when there was a knock.

"Yeah?" she called softly.

The door creaked open, and George peeked his head in.

"Hey," he said, a little breathless. "Wasn't sure if you'd be asleep."

Talwyn sat up a bit, tugging the blanket around her shoulders. "Not yet."

George stepped inside, awkward for a second, like he didn't know where to stand or what to say. But then he crossed the room and sat carefully at the edge of the bed.

"I just wanted to check on you," he said. "It's been... a day."

Talwyn gave a soft laugh, tired and dry. "That's one way to put it."

George looked at her, studying the shadows under her eyes, the way she clutched the blanket. "You were incredible. Back there at the manor. I know you don't like hearing that, but... you were."

She didn't argue. She didn't deflect. She was too tired for that.

Instead, she whispered, "Thank you. For coming for me."

George's expression gentled. "There was never a world where I wouldn't."

They sat in silence for a beat.

Then, very quietly, Talwyn reached out and took his hand.

George's hand was warm in hers. Callused in the way all hardworking hands were, but steady. Comforting.

Talwyn didn't let go.

She leaned her head slightly against his arm, her breath shaky. Everything inside her still felt fragile, like a house that had been rattled to its foundations and hadn't quite stopped trembling. But here, now, in the low glow of the bedroom lamp and with George beside her... she felt a kind of stillness she hadn't had in weeks.

"George," she murmured, not looking up, "I don't really know what I am right now."

"You're here," he said softly, tilting his head so his cheek brushed against her hair. "That's enough."

His voice was quiet, careful. He didn't try to kiss her right away. He didn't move fast or press for more. But the space between them shifted, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, the aching relief of survival, the nearness of grief, the heat of wanting someone who made you feel safe.

Talwyn shifted a little, turning to face him more fully. Her eyes searched his, and when she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

"I don't want to be alone tonight. Can you stay with me?"

George's breath caught slightly. His eyes flicked over her face, studying her, checking. "Are you sure?"

She nodded once, then twice, slower, firmer.

"I just want... something good. Something soft. Something real."

George reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and let his fingers linger on her cheek. His gaze was heavy with something more than want, reverence. Care. Like he couldn't quite believe she was in front of him.

"I'll be gentle with you," he said, voice low, steady. "Tonight's not about anything but that."

And then he kissed her.

It was soft at first, painfully so, like a question. Talwyn answered with the way her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, like she needed to be reminded again and again that he was real, that they were both still breathing.

His hands were slow and respectful as they slid around her waist, drawing her into his lap without ever breaking the kiss. The warmth of his mouth, the way he held her, it made her tremble in the best way.

"Still okay?" he murmured between kisses, lips brushing hers.

"Yes," she breathed. "I want this."

And when he laid her back against the pillows, he did it like she was precious. Like she was made of something breakable and worth protecting. Each kiss was slow, each touch careful, anchoring her back into her body, reminding her what it meant to be safe and wanted and known.

Tonight wasn't about forgetting the pain.

It was about finally letting someone hold her through it.

He slowly lifted her back up, and slid her shirt over her head. She wore nothing under it, only the bruises from the battle. 

He laid her back down, kissing every bruise and cut on her body softly. She had never felt so loved and cared for than in that moment.

He then moved to her pants, pulling them down and going down to pleasure her. 

"No," She said softly. "I want you to lay down."

He looked at her, slightly taken back, but he obeyed, moving over and laying where she had just been. 

She then slipped off his shirt and took off his pants. She hadn't done this in a long time, but she wanted to, for him. She had imagined this in the months where they weren't together, how she wished she would have done this for him. Now she could. 

She started by kissing just the tip, teasing him, and licking all the way down. He was already moaning, grabbing her hair and holding it for her. She slowly started going up and down, using her tongue to make him as satisfied as possible. 

"Fuck, Talwyn, you're good at that." He groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow.

She looked at him as he watched her go up and down with her mouth. She didn't break eye contact, no matter how nervous she got. 

"You're such a good girl," He said, cupping her face. 

He became a moaning mess and she would be lying if she said it didn't boost her ego. 

"I'm not going to be able to fuck you if you keep going, Tal." He told her. 

She took her mouth off of him and then got on top of him, straddling his waist. He looked at her in awe, not expecting it. She spit in her hand before touching herself for a second and then sliding down onto him. 

He whimpered as she lowered herself down onto him. He held her hips as she rose and went down in a stead rhythm. She kept her hand on his chest for stability, still not breaking eye contact with him. 

"Tell me you're all mine, Talwyn," He said, bringing his hand up to one of her boobs. 

"I'm all yours, George," She said leaving down to kiss him. "All yours."

He moaned against her lips, using one of his hands to help her move faster. 

She was already getting close, reaching the edge at a rapid pace. 

"I want you to make yourself cum," He said, watching as she rode him. "Please, Tal."

With that, her legs started shaking and she became a mess on top of him. 

"You did so good, my love." He whispered in her ear as he lifted her up and flipped her over so he was on top now. 

He continued until he started reaching his climax. He held her softly as he went in and out, making sure to brush past ant hairs in her face and kiss her forehead. 

"I love you, George." She whispered, looking into his deep brown eyes. 

"I love you so much, Talwyn." He said, just before reaching his finish and sloppily moaning over her. 

He stayed inside her, their bodies still intertwined as the storm of sensation slowly faded into a quiet, aching stillness. His arms wrapped tightly around her, one hand resting at the small of her back, the other brushing gently up her spine. They lay chest to chest, skin to skin, feeling every heartbeat, every breath.

George's forehead came to rest against hers, his lashes fluttering as he looked at her, really looked at her, like he was memorizing every line of her face. Like he couldn't believe she was real.

His hand cradled her cheek as he whispered, voice low and reverent, "You're everything."

Talwyn's lips parted slightly, her breath catching at the weight of his words. She blinked, cheeks warming despite everything they'd just shared. It wasn't the vulnerability of their bodies that made her blush, it was the depth of what he'd said. The sincerity in his eyes.

A soft smile curved her lips, and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, brushing the sweat-damp strands off his forehead.

"You're my everything," she whispered back.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together beneath the quilt, the only sounds in the room their quiet breathing and the occasional creak of the Burrow settling around them.

Eventually, George shifted just enough to roll them gently onto their sides, still holding her close. Her head found its place against his chest, and his fingers continued tracing idle, soothing shapes across her bare shoulder.

"Don't let go," she murmured drowsily.

"Never," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

And in that tiny room, surrounded by moonlight and the scent of old wood and safety, they fell asleep wrapped in each other. For one night, the first in a long time, the weight of the world fell away. There were no curses, no wars, no shadows waiting at the door. Just warmth. Just love.

Just them.