Hermione's Twin ⇒ Fred Weasley

Ch. 39: Chrysanthemums

Ch. 39: Chrysanthemums

     Parchment rolls were scattered across the desk beside my four-poster bed. I sat, balancing on the stiff oak chair with my legs crossed over themselves as I drummed my fingers across the writing desk, staring out the window. 

     The winter was melting away now, with each sunny day unfreezing more and more frost. The Blake Lake, which had been frozen over for nearly two months, was now lazily lapping at the shore once more. I watched birds fly across the robin's egg horizon, but my mind was nowhere close to the Charms paper I was tasked with completing before noon. I was thinking about a certain Beater, despite my best willpower.

     The door to my dormitory room creaked open with a determined whoosh. Yet, I didn't turn to look. 

      "Elizabeth Granger. We need to have a talk." 

      I docked my quill and rolled out my shoulders, blinking my tired eyes slowly -- as if to pull myself from my melancholic thoughts. With a groan, I watched as Lana pushed my assignment roll forward, making room for her to sit on it. 

      "Go away," I whined as she smacked me upside the head. It didn't hurt, of course, but it did grab my attention. She looked concerned, a furrow set deep in her brown but the spark in her eyes never wavering. Loose strands of red hair framed her upturned chin, mouth set hard.

       She was completely serious. Something must be up.

      Groggily, I dropped my legs to the floor and rubbed my eyes. The clock on the wall above Hermione's desk read 7 am, though most of my roommates had already left a while ago for breakfast or class. "What's up, Lana? Can't you see I'm doing something super important?" I sarcastically said, flamboyantly pointing to the Charms paper. It was barely started and the longer I procrastinated on it, the worse my cram time would be.

      "Is that Flitwick's three-page paper?" Lana asked, gingerly picking up the roll with a tisk. "That you've only got two paragraphs on..."

       "Yeah," I groaned, running my hands through my mused curls. My eyes felt heavy and my head was pounding. "I'm screwed. I can't think straight."

     Lana sighed, shaking her head as she set the paper back down. "I know you are more of a procrastinator than Hermione," she giggled. "But, this isn't like you."

       "I'm just," I floundered for the words, eyes wandering out the window once more, "I don't know."

       "It's about Fred." She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me a small glare. "You can deny it all you want, but you miss him."

       "As if,--" I scoffed. My cheeks flushed pink, betraying my words.

      "Why are you being such a bitch?" Lana snickered. 

       My mouth fell open a little. "Woah woah woah, hold up - I'm the bitch? You know what happened, why am I --"

       She interrupted me, shaking her head. "Chill a sec. Not like a bitch, bitch. But, like a bitch to yourself, you know?" Lana shook her head, trying to find the right words with wicked humour in her eyes. "You're clearly making yourself miserable. Besides, Fred told me that he has been trying to talk to you, but you won't give him the time of day." 

           "He really hurt me, Lana," I growled, feeling the twisting sensation of guilt in the pit of my stomach. Deep down I knew she was right. I sighed and she just gave me the look, knowing she was right.