Although she'd been exhausted, Verity had accompanied Fred to Muggle London, sure he'd end up in the cell with George if she didn't. The night had been a whirlwind and she was quite sure things hadn't even begun to settle down, but hopefully the addition of George and Angelina would normalise things momentarily.
Except for the fact that the complete opposite had happened. There'd been some Muggle, a big, brooding, hulking prat that had been staring at her, which had been enough to ready her for a fight, just the feel of him looking at her, even though she was standing there, beside Fred, her fingers linked through his. The bloke hadn't cared and then he'd stepped towards them and touched her. He'd sidled up beside her, made some comment about being able to satisfy her better than Fred and had dropped his hand onto her shoulder.
Before she could even react, Fred had flipped out. She'd wanted to jump in and help because he was almost instantly overpowered, but she hadn't been able to. Wound up as she was, when a Muggle officer had touched her arm to pull her away from the brawl, she'd snapped and whirled around, punching him in the face without thinking.
The men had been separated and she'd been shuttled along with Fred, down a long cold hallway, where she'd been shoved into a cell with Angelina. She'd been immensely glad that there were bars between the two of them because he was screaming about the baby and the look on George's face was not promising and all she wanted to do was to throttle Fred but instead she kicked the bar and threw herself down on the bench beside Angelina, her anger unabated and her toe throbbing.