because i liked a boy • fred weasley

Chapter 27 - Sunday, December 22nd

I think the only person that cares that I'm alive is Della – and she's not a person.

After I walked inside last night, nobody said a word to me. My father and sister weren't home when I got here; I'm sure they were out getting dinner together. But once they got home, not a word.

I sit in my small bedroom that only holds my bed and wardrobe. My room is at the highest point in our house. The view out of my round window is beautiful throughout the year. The large meadow that I overlook is lightly layered with snow from the past week. The small stream that runs through the bottom is slightly froze. Ice glistens reflecting the light from the cloud-covered sun.

After dressing in jeans and a brown sweater, I walk downstairs to have breakfast in solitude. It's only 8 in the morning now, but I heard Luna and Xeno leave at the crack of dawn. They're probably going to search for some made up lead that Xeno produced.

Our kitchen is barren. Xeno never kept food in the house once Mum died. He would always eat out in town.

I grab a mug and cast auguamenti to fill the cup, using the water-heating spell to boil it for a cup of tea. Thankfully, there's a mix of herbs for me to use.

After they sit and change the waters color, I strain the leaves out and take a sip. It's not exactly the breakfast I was craving, but this and a cigarette will have to do.

I take my cup and carton of cigarettes to the front door. Just as I'm swinging it open, a hand is raised to knock.

"Fred!" I exclaim in surprise. I survey his body and see a bag on his arm. "What're you doing here?"

"It's Sunday," Fred says in a tone that says it's obvious why he's there.

"Did we make plans?" I ask even though I know we sure as hell haven't spoken enough to make plans.

"I'm here for a picnic," Fred smiles as he holds up the bag. "I figured just because we're home doesn't mean you shouldn't get your picnic."

I stand still, unsure of what to say. Instead, I open the door wider and let him in. "Is my room okay? It's too cold out."

Fred nods and lets me lead him upstairs to my room. He walks slowly to admire the work on the wall. "Colorful."

I chuckle, "Really? I haven't noticed."

We walk into my room and I shut the door behind us. I gesture to my small carpet on the ground, "This okay?"

"Perfect," Fred replies as he sits down, and I sit down across from him. He begins unpacking the bag. Instead of our weird assortment of goodies made by the kitchen elves, he takes out containers of typical breakfast items. Pancakes still steaming, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, and some scones with jam. Plus a glass bottle of orange juice.

"Who made this?" I stare at the mouth-watering breakfast.

"Mum did. George and I were talking last night about it, and apparently butter sandwiches are not suitable to bring," Fred shrugs as he begins to dish out the food.

"Butter sandwiches would have been fine considering I only have tea leaves here, but this is very appreciated."

Fred laughs, and digs into the food he brought. I follow in his footsteps and eat the first home-cooked meal I've had since I was 11 years old. Everything I eat makes me feel better than I have in a long time.

"Please, tell your mum she's a brilliant cook," I sincerely look at Fred.

"I will, she'll be glad to hear you liked it," Fred smiles before taking a sip of his juice.

We sit together and eat with the silence only broken when I feel the need to compliment Mrs. Weasley every minute.

When we both start feeling full we end up sitting awkwardly looking at each other, neither of us sure of what to say. That is, until Fred speaks.

"I need to know where we go from here."

I nod, agreeing that our relationship is very unclear at the moment. Yesterday, we talked for the first time in a while, and now we're just having a picnic.

"What was going on with you and Angelina at the Ravenclaw party?"

"You were at the Ravenclaw party?" Fred asks, his eyebrows drawn together. "I didn't see you."

"I was there for a moment. Long enough to see the two of you in the back of the room alone together," I look at my carpet, digging my nail into the side of my ankle.

"She wanted to talk. I told her I would give her one minute and she was just doing what she normally does – tell me that I should be with her. But I told her to save her breath and left her there. That was the end of it," Fred clears his throat. "What about you and Cormac?"

I throw my hands over my face, "Me and Cormac nothing. Fred, I was so drunk. I was mad at you. I was just trying to make myself feel something again, but I didn't, and I regret ever going near that man."

"Did you..."

I look through my fingers to see Fred's face turning a light shade of pink. I immediately recognize what he's alluding to and squeeze my eyes shut. "I don't know. Yeah. I think so."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Fred's eyes shoot to my face, wandering around to get some sort of answer.

I ignore his question and say, "Fred, you know I like you. I really do. But you take me to be a strong person. I do not have the head you do that allows you to ignore the things that are said."

"But they're just stupid-"

"I know. But that doesn't mean that their words are not chipping away at me," I explain to him. I reach out and take his hand in mine. "I don't know how much longer I can get the stares, and the curses, and the whispers before I... before I completely break."

I maintain eye contact with him as he lets my words sink in. He whispers, "I'm sorry."

I offer a sad, small smile before standing up. "I've gotta go to town to get some things, but thank you for this, and seriously thank your mum for me."

He nods and stands with me. I lead him out of my room and to the front door, opening it for him.

Before he leaves he says, "Listen, this may be out of line, but I know you don't... get along with your family. I was wondering if you would come to Christmas dinner? Mum actually mentioned it this morning."

My family doesn't do Christmas. Anymore that is. We used to celebrate it every year when Mum was alive, but now it's a morbid day.

"Sure, Fred," I slightly smile. "I would love to."