Little Talks | Fred Weasley x Cedric Diggory

One.

Fred Weasley was always an exceptionally happy person. He and George were always the best at making other people laugh, no matter how bad the situation around them became. But Fred Weasley was at his happiest when he was with Cedric Diggory.

The time they shared was short, but they had been the best few months of Fred's entire life. They had known each other for ages. They were Quidditch rivals since second year. Both had reputations that all of Hogwarts knew about; Cedric was 'Pretty Boy Diggory', a handsome boy who was gifted in everything he studied, and Fred was the school's most famous prankster who told the best jokes around. No one could have predicted the beautiful relationship that developed between them.

Fred had started a new habit of sitting out on one of the Burrow's many balconies, nearly every night, all by himself. Even George knew better than to disturb him. Or maybe especially George knew to leave him be. Not many could say they shared a bond quite as close as that of Fred and George Weasley. George understood his twin better than he knew the back of his own hand. He knew when to engage and when to retreat.

Fred liked the balcony because it was the only place in the entire world he could go where nobody bothered him. It was quiet, pardoning the occasional scream from Mrs. Weasley. The darkness offered no sounds. Even the animals that normally roamed wild in the neighboring fields had grown silent. It was as if the world was mourning with him.

For all the pain he was feeling, the balcony was a sanctuary. He could be at peace there. Thoughts ceased to clog his mind as he sat there. Fred never liked the quiet before, but now it was his closest friend.

Nighttime was a different story. There was no control over what thoughts entered his head as he slept. Every night it was the same. The spectator stands just surrounding the maze, the band playing, all the different banners for the four champions, everything. The dream always started deceptively happy. It didn't take many nights for Fred to learn to expect something else. The music would stop, someone would scream, and there he was: Cedric lying limp with Harry sprawled on top. Every night Fred would lunge towards the body and every night George would hold him back. And worst of all, each time, he would catch a glimpse of his lover's face, grey eyes staring at nothing.

The dream never continued past that point. Like clockwork, seeing those eyes always jolted him awake, breathing heavily. George knew what to do. He had experienced enough of these nightmares and had devoted himself to perfecting the art of comforting his brother. The younger twin never said a word; he just hugged his arms around Fred and rested his head on his shoulder. George had memorized the time that these nightmares occurred. It was consistently just before midnight. So while Fred went to sleep, he stayed awake, waiting for the inevitable. George was also sure that his brother did not know these sleeping habits. There was enough for him to worry about already.

When the Weasley's moved out of the Burrow and into Number 12 Grimmauld Place midway through summer, Fred lost his sanctuary. The one place he could go for peace was gone. Instead, he had the cramped quarters of the headquarters of the Order to endure. Quiet was impossible to come by anymore. At the Burrow, any yelling that took place could be muffled by the fact that the house contained many floors. The balcony at the top was a great distance from the kitchen, which became the epicenter of any arguments breaking out. Grimmauld Place had significantly fewer floors and significantly more occupants. It wasn't that Fred had problems with all the new houseguests and visitors. It was that he felt he had to do a damn good job of pretending to be happy whenever someone came by for a meeting. That was a new concept for him; happiness had always come so naturally before.

There were only two people Fred felt he could be completely genuine with: George and Harry. George was his best friend and normally his closest confidant. He operated based on strong comfort and attempted humor that often fell flat. Circumstances, however, had lead to a change. Harry was the only person who came close to understanding. The Boy Who Lived had only briefly known Cedric. Maybe they could be considered friends. Nothing like what he and Fred had. But he was the one who had witnessed him die and the one who had brought him back. The problem came in how the two boys handled their strong emotions. Whereas Harry had anger bubbling up inside him, waiting to lash out, Fred dealt in sullen despondency. Discussions had the potential to become frustrating.