Unreal

Chp 58 Closer than Before

I stepped out behind one of the thicker arches near the stairway., putting on my best prefect voice.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," I said sternly, arms crossed. "And another ten for sneaking Firewhisky into school property."

Fred jolted like I'd slapped him with a wet towel.

Then when he spotted me—

He scoffed. Actually scoffed.

"Oh, it's you," he said, voice low and lazy. "Merlin's beard, I thought I was about to get expelled."

I raised a brow as I walked closer, eyeing the way he sat slouched on the stone ledge. "You look drunk."

He didn't answer.

Just ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back to look at the stars like I wasn't even there.

I folded my arms tighter. "Right. Of course. Ignore me like you've been doing for the past weeks. Lovely."

I turned.

Started to walk off with heat rising to my cheeks — anger or embarrassment or maybe just exhaustion, I couldn't tell.

But then—

"I believe you."

I stopped.

Slowly turned.

Fred was still seated, but now his eyes were on me. Really on me.

"About the Goblet," he added. "I believe you didn't put your name in."

The wind rustled the trees behind him. Something in my chest twisted.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't want to. Not at first. Because if I did, then I'd have to accept it, wouldn't I?"

I didn't speak.

Just watched.

He looked... tired. More than drunk. His words were slow, but not slurred — just heavy.

The moonlight softened his features, casting pale silver over his skin and the edges of his ginger hair. His tie was loosened. Shirt slightly wrinkled. Eyes glassy — not from drink, but from something else entirely.

Grief, maybe. Or worry.

He looked like a boy trying to make sense of something that didn't have logic.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice rougher now. "For ignoring you. For acting like it was your fault. I just— I couldn't wrap my head around it. You got in."

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Still didn't know what to say.

But I didn't need to.

Because then Fred stood up.

And suddenly he was towering in front of me — not threatening, not even teasing, just there.

And then—without asking—

He pulled me into a hug.

His arms wrapped tightly around me, warm and solid, like a shield against the cold.

"I'm worried about you, Hart," he murmured.

My breath caught.

My heart?

Oh. My heart was doing gymnastics.

I didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Just let myself stay in that moment, eyes wide, cheek pressed against his chest, the smell of him — spice and parchment and something warm — completely surrounding me.