*Daisy's POV*

I was unsteady on my feet as the three of us ran into the club, teetering on my heels, tipsy and off-balance due to the amount of whiskey I'd consumed. It didn't help that I'd just been pounded by two well-endowed men, the fluids of which were running down my thighs and coating my throat, distracting me and making me cough. My core ached as I moved; my ankles wobbled; small scratches on my back burned from where I'd been fucked up against the brick wall outside. 

"What the hell is going on?" Fred breathed next to me. 

I followed his gaze, my brain foggy. I hadn't even noticed, I was that drunk; every clubber in the building was on the floor, eyes closed and limp. George stooped down to press a finger against someone's neck; he staggered up again, nodding. 

"Still alive." He said, a slight slur to his voice. "They've been knocked unconscious, I think. Why, though?" 

"And who screamed?" I said, my head throbbing. The music had been cut off, but the flashing strobe lights hadn't. 

"Wasn't me." A familiar voice said, and I sighed in relief as Terry hurried over to us from behind the bar. "I felt like it, though - Riddle's here, guys." 

"Where?" Fred said urgently. His eyes darted around the large room, and I followed suit, scanning the dance floor, the staircases leading up to the first floor balconies, the bar areas behind them... 

"I dunno." Terry shrugged. "He came in, sent out this weird black smoke from his hands, and everyone dropped like flies. I hid behind there," he gestured, "and waited for him to go. I dunno why it only affected the Muggles. I was afraid he'd got you guys." 

"Don't worry, Hopper." I slurred, my face breaking out into a grin. "We were outside - Fred 'n George were fucking my brains out -" 

"God, Softpaw, I KNOW." Terry rolled his eyes, turning away from me to scan behind us. "No need to rub it in. I know two of the five hottest guys to ever exist pound you on a daily basis. It's not fair." 

"Who's the other three?" 

"Me, obviously." Terry primped himself, grinning. "Draco, also obviously. And Sirius." 

"Interesting." I said, advancing further into the club, my wand pointed at nothing in particular, my hand unsteady as I stepped cautiously over the sleeping bodies on the ground. "You think my boyfriends and my godfather are hot. Why are you coming for all the men in my life, Hopper?" 

Terry smirked, his wand also drawn and aimed upwards at the balconies. "I'm coming for them, alright. In my dreams, at least." 

"Don't let Draco hear that." 

"Oh, he knows. He has his fantasies as well." 

"Oh? Like who?" 

Terry's smirk grew wider. 

"Like you and Ha-" 

A shout of shock interrupted us, and Terry and I whirled around. Fred and George had climbed one of the staircases to the first floor, and George was backing down the stairs, hand reaching out for the banister as Fred braced himself against the railing of the balcony, shaking his head slowly. 

Terry and I sprinted up the stairs, avoiding bodies as we went. We shuffled past George, reaching the landing, and I gasped a quiet exclamation as I saw it. 

A young woman who looked scarily like me, with curly black hair, a round face, and a soft tummy was splayed on the ground, her throat slit. Blood was dripping down the wall - her blood - still fresh and running down the paintwork as if someone had written those words a split second before we'd arrived up here. 

'THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO ALL DIRTY SLUTS.' 

"Literally what?" I said. 

Terry was stumbling backwards, hands over his mouth, looking like he was about to vomit. Whether it was the adrenaline or the alcohol in me, I didn't know, but I wasn't fazed by the sight in front of me at all. 

"She wasn't even wearing anything that slutty, though." I said. "Dumb Riddle." 

"She's only in a bra and booty shorts." Fred pointed out, equally as unfazed; his pupils were dilated, and I could smell the alcohol off his breath from here. I licked my lips; my mouth was full of the overwhelming taste of alcohol, too - along with something else, which was making me clear my throat regularly. 

"Oi! Leave her alone. Girls can wear what they like, they don't need you calling them slutty for it." George said, pointedly staring around at anything but the dead girl in front of us. 

"She's literally dead, George." Fred said. "It's not like she can hear us." 

"Guys." Terry said weakly, finally lowering his hands from his face. "Guys... this isn't looking good. I saw Riddle here, he made all these Muggles pass out... he killed this woman... he left a MESSAGE for us -" 

"A message?" I scoffed. "That 'all dirty sluts' get their throats slit or something? A bit of a dumb message, mate." 

Terry shook his head fearfully, glancing around. "He means you. He's subtweeting you. It's a threat." 

"No shit." Fred said. "Where is he? I want to give him a taste of his medicine." 

The redhead began pacing along the balcony, glaring down at the bodies collapsed all along the dance floor, gazing around at the bar areas across from us. His wand was held out at chest-height, his fists clenched. 

"Come on!" He roared suddenly, and I jumped. "Come out!" 

"He's not gay, Freddie." 

"You think you're such a big lad, huh, messing with our girl! My girl! Come on out then and fight me!" Fred ignored me, striding around the corner. 

"He's an idiot." George sighed. "Riddle's aim here is to get to you. He's clearly not going to kill all these Muggles. We need to leave so he -" 

"ARGHHHH!" 

We all spun around as Fred was sent flying through the air, slamming into the railing of the balcony with a thud. He groaned, staggering upright, and Terry, George, and I raised our wands, my other hand shining white light as adrenaline rushed through me. 

"He's -" 

Fred cut himself off as Riddle strolled out from behind the corner, a cruel smirk stretched across his face and red eyes gleaming. Terry swore; George moved protectively in front of me, throwing an anxious look back at me; Fred raised his fists, unsteady on his drunken feet. 

"Hello, all." Riddle drawled, and I tilted my head. Something about the way he was talking was putting me off. He didn't used to talk like that. "So we have the faggot, the ginger blood traitors, and the biggest whore in England. What a crowd." 

"Fuck RIGHT off." I said, edging around George, aiming my glowing hand at Riddle. "I know I'm a slut, but you don't get to talk about my best friends like that!" 

Riddle's smirk grew wider. "At least you admit it -" 

"Stupefy!" 

Riddle dodged as George's Stunning Spell nearly hit him. He'd moved at the speed of light, in a very unnatural way, and his eyes looked as if they were expanding in size, his creepy grin showing off sharpened teeth. My hairs prickled along the back of my neck. What the fuck? 

"You think you can fight me?" Riddle laughed tauntingly. “Ha. You’re all drunk - and I see Potter’s had her slutty hole destroyed not too long ago, so she won’t b-“ 

“CRUCIO!” 

Riddle dodged Fred’s curse, his eyes gleaming. “Now, now, Weasley. Calm down. I’m only stating what’s right in front of me - look at her thighs, covered in semen, the filthy little whore -“ 

And this seemed to be the trigger. Suddenly, spells were being shot from all around me, my best friend and boyfriends roaring with rage; Riddle deflected the curses with some black mist spiralling from his hands, and advanced upon us, his eyes glued on me. 

"Guys, c'mon, it's not affecting him!" I slurred, tugging at Terry and George's jackets. "We need to go! NOW!" 

I teetered on my little heels, wobbling on the stairs. George glanced back at me in alarm, his wand held up in front of him, and reached out for me with his other hand. 

"Daze, you're trashed - Apparate back to the apartment -" 

"Can't just leave you!" I pleaded, my white light strengthening as Riddle approached. "Fred's equally as hammered, c'mon -" 

We both glanced back around at Fred. Riddle was advancing upon him, Fred's eyes crossing as he tried to keep his wand trained on the dark-haired man. 

"I'm going to end your pathetic existence -" Riddle was sneering, raising his hand, and a black mass spilled from his palm - 

"No!" The white light exploded from my own palm, something erupting out of my back at the exact same time; I felt my wings propel me into the air unsteadily, feathers flapping precariously as I tilted sideways; Riddle's eyes widened in the glow of my light, and he leapt back, backing away fast as my light brightened and spread. I felt the heat of it rolling in waves over my skin - I aimed my hands at my enemy - screaming - my wings flapped chaotically behind me - shouts from below - and a giant ball of pure white heat exploded from me, shooting towards Riddle - 

The club was on fire. I drifted down, feathers floating in the air around me; Terry sprinted bravely over to the blazing corner. 

"He's gone." 

We all glanced at each other as we heard sirens in the distance. Then we glanced around at the bodies on the floor, the dead woman beneath the bloody written message on the wall, the flames licking up the side of a bar. 

"Well, shit." 

~~~ 

"...And so those employees willing to relocate to the Hogsmeade location should sign up here on this sheet. And listen, thank you very much if you are, you absolutely don't have to do it and we're very grateful that so many of you are happy to." 

"We'll just be at the Hogsmeade location more often while it's term time. Some of us might be living at our little cottage in the future, too..." 

I listened to the wolf-whistles and catcalls of our employees as I walked behind the group gathered listening to Fred and George in the warehouse. I nursed my cup of tea in my hands, taking small sips as I blinked, trying to keep my eyes open. I hadn't slept much last night; we'd came straight home after putting the fire out and making sure all the Muggles had woken up as a result of Riddle leaving the premises. And as a result of my night out, I was hungover and aching. 

My eyes moved down the newspaper Terry was reading, leaning against a crate with his own mug of coffee in hand. It was talking about a mysterious gas leak making everyone pass out at the club, which they suspected was the result of an incel terrorist attack due to the murder of the young woman - ha. If only they knew the truth. 

"Did you take your pill?" Terry commented casually to me before taking a long sip. 

I nodded. I'd developed the routine of taking a Muggle 'Plan B' pill after letting Fred come inside me - I refused to admit it out loud, but I liked the feeling of his essence in me after. 

"Good. We don't need any mini yous or mini Freds running around." Terry smirked. "Yet." 

"Yet." I repeated. I sighed, glancing around me, before joining him against the crate. "Especially not with Inferi after me." 

Terry lowered his newspaper, frowning. "Are you okay, Softpaw? I mean, really? How are you holding up?" 

"Not good." I confessed, leaning into him. Terry wrapped an arm around me, tossing the newspaper on the ground; I watched as the papers spilled everywhere. "It's freaky. I killed him, he’s dead. Why's he back? HOW’S he back?" 

"I know." Terry said. "It's not fair. You thought he was gone for good and now he’s harassing you again. I understand how frustrating and terrifying this all must be.” 

I nodded again, looking down at my cup. I eyed the liquid within, making the light brown swirl with my Grace. I was reminded of the black mass swirling from Riddle’s hands, and furrowed my eyebrows. 

“Something’s changed about him, Hopper.” I said. “He’s able to do stuff he wasn’t able to when he was alive. It’s creepy.” 

“Like the black shit, you mean?” 

“Yeah.” I said. “What the hell is that? And why’s he suddenly able to do it now he’s dead?” 

Terry opened his mouth to reply, but Luke’s loud voice came from the group of employees nearby. 

“I’m DEFINITELY signing up to go to the Hogsmeade store! Without a DOUBT!” 

Terry smirked. I followed his gaze and smirked too as Fred glowered and George scowled at the sandy-haired man. A few other employees tittered and laughed; they all knew the tea, and they enjoyed the drama. 

“I guess the eye-candy is coming with us, then.” Terry said with a twinkle in his eye. We both sighed dreamily, gazing at Luke - his Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shirt was even tighter to his body today, and we could see his defined abs through the purple fabric. 

“This is gonna be fun.” I commented, my eyes moving back to the twins after a long moment. Fred and George had resumed talking to our employees, though traces of their dark scowls remained on their faces. 

“Bet.” Terry high-fived me, and we took sips from our mugs at the same time.