Delicate * { Fred Weasley }

Wedding

That night, my dreams were filled with fireworks.

Everything was more vibrant and vivid than it had been in real life—the colors of the fireworks, the smell of a distant beach bonfire, even the taste of the salty ocean air on my lips. Up in the sky, a fleet of green whales cavorted in figure eights around trios of horses performing elaborate top hat and cane routines.

I knew that Fred was there. I could feel his presence next to me, warm like sunlight. Steady. Dependable. Maybe a little dangerous if I looked for too long.

"Maggie." His voice was low and soft, but I could hear him so clearly.

I kept my eyes fixed on the night sky, a nameless, nervous fear coiling like a snake in my throat.

"Maggie. Look at me."

His words had a compelling, magnetic pull that made me drag my eyes away from the night sky to meet his gaze. His eyes were lighter than normal, more amber than whiskey colored.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked.

I hesitated for just a second. I didn't really know the answer. "It's complicated."

"Is it, though?" I noticed that his scar was glowing gold underneath his shirt, like someone had trapped sunlight underneath his skin.

"You're glowing," I said.

He raised his eyebrows. "So are you."

And indeed, when I looked down, I saw that the same golden light now crisscrossed my stomach in an all too familiar pattern beneath my shirt.

I looked back at him. "What does it mean?"

His lips twitched slightly. "I think you know."

I shook my head. "I don't."

He took my hand and brought it to his chest, pressing it flat against his scar. Even through the fabric, I could feel that his scar was warm to the touch, pulsing like a heartbeat under my palm. This produced no particular epiphany, but I didn't want to say that, didn't want to admit to what I didn't understand, especially not in a moment that felt as intimate as this.

And I knew it was a dream and I knew that it wasn't real, but my body felt electric and I could feel the heat of his fingertips and palm as his hand slid round the back of my neck as he pulled me toward him. When he kissed me, I could taste the beer he'd been drinking; when I kissed him back, I could feel him sigh just a little, like this was something he'd been waiting for. I could hear the fireworks show continuing as we tumbled down together, sand in my hair, his lips on mine. I knew without looking that the beach was empty, save for the two of us twined together on the sand.

I knew it was a dream. I reminded myself of this constantly—I was, it seemed, unable to allow myself to be happy even at a very deep and subconscious level. And even though I knew it was a dream, a wild panic seized my heart when our hands turned to the business of undressing. I wanted him in the most desperate way, but I didn't want him to see me like this, with my scars glowing gold and bright and utterly unmissable. If he saw my scars, surely he would think of me differently. He would understand all the mistakes I'd made at the Battle of Hogwarts and the shame I carried with me. He wouldn't want me once he knew.

The moment that thought occurred to me, everything changed. Fred was gone, the heat of his body replaced with a chill that seemed to seep into my very bones. All I could hear was the roar of the ocean while fireworks exploded behind my eyes and—

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding against my ribs like a living thing trying to claw its way out of my chest. The rest of me felt heavy and loose, still under the effects of the Calming Draught.