𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚡𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚒𝚒. 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚜

     Will she even be able to return to her classes like normal? Cress has done most of her assignments while at St. Mungo's, so her written part of lessons should be taken care of. It's the practical part, the one that forces her to use a wand and recite spells. That's the part that she's terrified of. She doesn't want her magic to do what it did last night -- doesn't want it to bring her thoughts to fruition without her approval. She doesn't want to lose control.

     "Nervous?" Blythe asks, once Cress is dressed.

     Words don't cut it, so Cress only nods.

     Blythe grins softly, placing her soft, cool hands on Cress's face. She presses a kiss onto her forehead. "You'll be fine, love. You're stronger than anyone I know. You'll do well."

     "And if I don't?"

     "We will try again another time. We aren't pressed for time, and you don't need to be forced to do something you don't want to do nor something that you feel as though you aren't ready for." Blythe searches her face, frown replacing her smile. "Are you worried? Do you not want to go?"

     "It's not that," Cress says, pulling back slightly until her mum drops her hands. "I just worry that I'll--" Lose control, she doesn't say. "I don't want to be a hindrance."

     "You won't be, honey," Blythe soothes. "What happened before was because of your horrible Professor and that horrible girl, not because of you. And the professors are well-prepared for your return. They've got everything sorted out for you, okay?"

     "Okay," Cress echoes, not feeling any better. There is more she wants to say on the matter, but she refrains, only lets her mum zip her jacket up, then pat her cheeks one more time.

     "I believe in you, Crescent," her mum says softly. "I know you've got this."

     "Thanks, Mum."

     Another kiss on her forehead. Then, Blythe pulls back, frowning slightly again. "About last night, Crescent. . ."

     "It's quite alright, Mum. I know you were tired."

     Blythe shakes her head in denial. "No, it's not alright. I should have been there to inform you about what was happening today, but instead I slept through everything -- through you returning, through Sirius's blasted quarrel with Severus, through dinner even. I should have been there. I feel like I haven't been there, at least not recently. Not for you."

     "You have," Cress argues, but it must sound weak because all Blythe does is laugh shortly.

     "I know you know I haven't, and it's not okay," Blythe responds. "This is a very sensitive time for both of us, but it doesn't mean that I should--"

     "Throw yourself into the Order? Keep things from me?" Cress asks before she can stop herself. Her voice is laced with bitterness, and the words almost sting coming out of her mouth, but in a way, they're relieving, too.

     Blythe sighs. "Yes. I shouldn't be keeping things from you nor overworking myself to the point of exhaustion. You need me and I'm not being a good mother right now."

     "You're not being a bad mother," Cress says truthfully. "You visited me in St. Mungo's when you could, which was often after you came the first time. I just wanted to know. . . why didn't you tell me about Mr. Weasley? It's a bit of an important detail to leave out, if I'm honest, Mum."

     "You're right," Blythe admits, voice low. She fiddles with the hem of her sweater, dark circles staining her eyes even after the sleep she received last night. "I just-- Crescent, you're wearing the world on your shoulders right now, it feels like. You've lost -- we've lost -- Cedric, and then you lost your magic only for it to return as a darker force, and I didn't think. . . I didn't want to put you through more distress when you didn't need it. I didn't want you to worry about me or think that I wouldn't--"