Dancing In The Storm •Fred Weasley•

Chapter 32

•This story takes scenes from the Harry Potter series. I want to make it clear that I don't own those scenes. That's owned by
J.K. Rowling. Thank you•

~Scarlett~

"Wait...did you just say you talked to my Dad?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not the point." Harry avoided my question, going back to what he was fussing over. "The first task is dragons!"

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm still a little stuck on the fact that you talked to my Dad! Without me, might I add!" I exclaimed.

"Look, Scar, he said he didn't want you to be there—"

"Oh! Is that so?!"

"Ugh! Scarlett, I mean that he just needed to speak with me about something that he didn't want you to know about!" Harry tried to explain, running his hands through his hair.

"I haven't spoken to my parents one bloody time since we've been here! But for some reason they haven't had a single issue writing to you, and have gone out of their way to talk face to face with you!" My blood was boiling at this point. These past few months have been the worst of my life and my parents are more willing to see their godson then to send a simple letter asking how their daughter is doing.

"Okay that's not my fault, Scar!"

I just stayed silent. My head was pounding and my eyes stung with tears. Harry and I had just been talking in the Common Room when he had briefly mentioned talking to Sirius.

"If you want, I can tell them how you're feeling," Harry offered.

"No," I mumbled, running my own hand through my hair. "Just, just tell them I want to talk to my Mum. Maybe ask if she can meet me at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday for the Hogsmeade trip."

"Yeah, sure, I can do that."

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I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to give myself some warmth. My thin, white, long sleeved shirt was not doing too much help for me. Nor were my dark blue skinny jeans and converse.

But warmth immediately flooded through me as I entered The Three Broomsticks. I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to fix it, but also as a nervous habit.

My mother was sat just a few feet away from me in a booth, two pints of Butterbeer sat on the table.

I took a deep breath before approaching my mother, holding back the tears that threatened to fill my eyes. She saw me approaching and immediately got up, holding her arms open for me to hug her. But I just slid into the booth.

"What?" Mum laughed. "Not going to give your mother a hug?" She slid into the booth across from me.

"What is wrong with you?"

Mum looked taken aback, blinking at me. "Pardon?"

"I have sent you so many letters, and you haven't responded to a single bloody one!" I exclaimed, tears filling my eyes. "You didn't even send a letter asking if I had gotten to the school safely!"