just like heaven ── fred weasley

forty-five

"George told her we'd have to shut the shop, disappear for a little bit. Well, she wasn't exactly pleased at the prospect of being left in the dark," Fred whispered, so softly she could barely feel the waft of breath against her cheek. George remained oblivious, too invested in obtaining the bottom right 'triple word' tile.

"And?" Aspen urged, eyes raking over her boyfriend as if one keen look would be enough to drag a definitive answer out of him. "What's the verdict?"

"Can't say for sure. He didn't want to talk about it," Fred said, and shot a pointed look towards George.

Now, inspecting him more diligently, Aspen could see the cracks in the younger twin's joyful disposition. Even as he taunted his opponent shamelessly, teeth bared in a boundless grin, the downturn in the corners of his eyes gave him away. There was an unnatural quiver to his quick-fire wit, and he sagged with a fatigue that was different to the rest of them, not initiated by war or sentient loss. George Weasley was suffering in silence, and refusing to bring the rest of them down with him.

"I think they're together still, for now at least. I bloody hope so anyway," Fred said lowly, drawing Aspen away from her inaudible interrogation.

"He loves her. She loves him," Aspen said simply, trying to hide the frown that was tugging on the corners of her lips. "That should be enough. That should keep them going. Shouldn't it?"

Fred squeezed her tighter, the palm of his hand digging into the meat of her bicep for a fleeting moment. She could feel the press of his lips against the crown of her head, and while it would normally send butterflies feral inside of her stomach at the splendid domesticity of it all, she was met only by a hollow pit of disappointment there instead.

"Sometimes that's just not enough, I suppose."

She knew he was right, but it struck her to imagine a world where the life she knew like an old friend was upended, and as the result of a seemingly endless war no less. Their world had changed so immensely in the past few months, and each big change was a blunt stab to the gut, a reminder of the uncertainty that would continue to plague them until the war was won. A rift in their friend group — which she had considered indestructible — was a flashing warning sign in the forefront of her mind, and she felt a wave of nausea roll through her abdomen.

"We can't have this," Fred spoke again, although louder now, as he could read on her face that she was searching unsuccessfully for a solution, an unavoidable reason for them to stay together forever. "Are you two nearly done? We should be celebrating properly, not being bloody boring bastards like this. Alessia can drink now!"

Alessia's face seemed to light up from over the Scrabble board, which was admittedly looking full to the brim with the little cream tiles, and thus, meant the round was nearing its completion. Aspen, however, leapt forward to punch her boyfriend's arm playfully, much to his dismay.

"Don't you encourage my sister to drink, Fred Weasley," she scolded, and watched gleefully as he rubbed his bicep like a scolded child.

"One or two couldn't hurt," George piped up, and scrambled to his feet, more than pleased to be torn away from the board game. He disappeared into the kitchen, from which he had retrieved a bottle Aspen had not seen before. "Brought this from the flat."

With a wave of Fred's wand, the Scrabble board had swept itself away and back into its box, and in its place, four glass tumblers landed neatly on the table with a thud! George twisted the lid off, listening to the satisfying crack of its seal breaking, and began pouring double shots of the single malt whisky into each glass. As they were passed around, Aspen turned her attention to the turntable in the corner, sifting through a multitude of ancient records before settling on Rubber Soul.