𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚡𝚕𝚒𝚡. 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕

✦✧✦

     Adjusting back to Hogwarts is as easy as it is difficult. The remedial lessons that she takes with every professor but Umbridge go by surprisingly fast, lessons that Cress has studied during her time in St. Mungo's gone over a second time so that she only needs to listen just a bit instead of giving her whole attention to it.

     It's everything in between that's the hardest for her.

     The walk to the lessons feels like a trek in the forest, logs jumping up, her legs pumping and going until she's exhausted and her eyes feel swollen by the time she forces herself to sit at a desk.

     Dinners are quiet and seldom does Cress take them in the Great Hall. Most of the time, she finds herself in the Slytherin common room again, something that she found relief in rather than remorse, practicing spells with Jonah and politely (with a bit of anger) ignoring Marigold.

     It's been two weeks, and Death Eaters escaped Azkaban (and Harry felt it happen because of his connection with Lord Vee Vee and no, Cress, you can't call him that because he killed Cedric, yes I'm sure, do you want to die -- no, that's not a serious question, shut up -- but it felt like a razor blade in my head and Ron said I cackled which makes me feel like a right lunatic, stop laughing I hate you), and Cress isn't going to lessons, and Mallory is still acting smaller than a needle, and Axel won't let her talk about it, so she feels a bit suffocated, but it's not the worst.

    "It sounds like it could be better," Augie notes, chair creaking as she leans back.

     Cress ponders over it. It definitely could be better. She still sees Fred in the corridors and there's a hole in her so deep that she fears nothing will be able to fill it, but he seems happy even though he won't speak to her -- not really. He says a greeting and she nods back, but there's something wrong and it's off its axis, and the world is spinning much too fast, but she's here.

     "I think everything could be better," Cress retorts, sucking her tongue. "You said to take it one day at a time, though. I'm trying."

     "That's what matters," Augie says. Smiles. A big, open smile. Her hair is shorter, a trim perhaps. She looks more mature, older this way, but still beautiful. The candles light the shadows on her face, and Cress grins back, scratching her arm. "Are you still on speaking terms with Hamlin? Fred?"

     Nod. Nod, nod, nod. If she doesn't nod, she'll have to tell Augie that Hamlin does speak with her but he wants to do so when he's surrounded by Lee and the twins and so much red that she gets too dizzy, has to turn away before the veins pop out and her mouth starts vomiting words like what happened at Christmas, Fred? Are we done, Fred? Am I not enough, Fred? She's beautiful, Fred.

     Fred, Fred, Fred.

     She's foolish for being stuck on this, but she craves his friendship more than his relationship and she just wants it back so much. It's carved a permanent place in her mind, the thoughts of what she could have done, how she could have handled her return better. How she could have eased his mind, told him that it was him, it's always him, when is it not him?