why were you digging? what did you bury?
before those hands pulled me from the earth?
i will not ask you where you came from, i will not ask and neither should you
-
St Mungo's reply had arrived just a couple of hours after they'd sent it, and Fred had waited with her the entire time until she had read it ten times over.
Wilma Falker was in stable condition, expected to make a full recovery. Her eyes had drank up the words until she could have recited them off by heart. Fred had smiled and put an arm around her and she'd tried very hard not to cry with her gratitude for him. The letter had also mentioned that she'd been discharged and sent home, but at least Imogen knew she was okay.
A week later, Imogen received another letter. She recognised the disorganised scrawl as Wilma's hand instantly.
Dear Imogen,
Well, I seem to owe you an apology. I'm very sorry for giving you a scare on boxing day. I am perfectly well and healthy (if a little tiresome of living with Phineas again – but we both agree it's for the best that I stay at the manor for a while). Thank you for your concern, but please don't let my melodrama distract you from your studies.
When Zuri retracted herself as my emergency contact, I wasn't too keen on the idea of having Phineas take her place (you know how lovely and kind he is during difficult times -*wink wink*). Seeing as you'd turned seventeen I thought I'd put you down instead, but I now see that was unfair and inappropriate. I didn't imagine it would be so soon that you'd be contacted.
I hope you had a wonderful christmas. Look forward to seeing you again.
All my love,
Aunt Wilma
It was sardonic, and to-the-point, and laden with Wilma's usual diminishment of her need for other people. Which put Imogen's mind at ease far more than anything her father or the hospital could have said. If her aunt was already penning jokes at Phineas' expense, Imogen knew she must be feeling better.
Imogen was sure she could sense her father's influence in the letter too. She was sure he'd have given Wilma a hard time about including Imogen in her problems, and Wilma, being in a vulnerable state and having it in her nature to care for others (unlike Phineas), would have listened.
Imogen didn't like the idea of Wilma being at the manor with Phineas in her ear constantly. She made sure to assert to Wilma in her reply that she didn't impose on Imogen at all. That she would always want to be there for her. But she was already imagining Wilma dismissing that comment, with a laugh and a flick of her hand. Wilma loathed sentimentality and sappiness, just like Phineas.
It was a Friday afternoon that she sent off her reply at the owlery, and luckily Imogen had plans with Fred that evening. Well, technically it had been plans with Hetty, but they'd been sat near Angelina and Lee at the time, and they were invited too. And Imogen had been able to suggest subtly enough that the twins might want to come along too. So now the six of them were going to have a little fire out by the lake. Imogen could barely contain her excitement to tell Fred about the letter.
In the days between boxing day and receiving Wilma's letter, Imogen found herself switching constantly between feeling extremely grateful Fred had been there to help her, and extremely embarrassed she'd allowed him to see her like that. Some paranoid part of her had a feeling he knew more than he let on; that he somehow could look into her eyes and see what had happened.
Another part of her was warm, and glowing, and shy. Vulnerable. And though it was terrifying... it was pretty nice to feel vulnerable. To be taken care of.
There were a few times when Imogen found herself lying in bed, not asleep, with her cheeks burning as she remembered the events of boxing day. How Snape had extended a relcutant hand to help her off the floor; how the group of younger students had whispered as she went past; or lying to Madame Pomfrey, her favourite teacher. And yet, when her mind turned to Fred, and his hand on her back, or his soft 'Imogen', she found herself smiling weakly through the burning shame.
After dinner, once she'd changed out of her uniform, she met Hetty by the kitchens, and they walked arm in arm out onto the grounds. Both clad in heavy coats, they found the others already sitting around a blue fire. Imogen sat next to Fred, and Hetty next to George. It was surprisingly easy company, despite Imogen still being a little wary of Angelina.
The first chance she got, she dropped her voice to a whisper and told Fred about Wilma's letter.
"See," he murmured, his hand finding her arm discretely. "Nothing to worry about."
Gently, he traced circles on her wrist with his fingers. She smiled. "Are you going to visit her then?"
She shook her head, darting her eyes around the group to check no one was listening. They were wrapped up in their own conversations.
"My father's forbidden it."
He furrowed his brow. "Why would he do that?"
Imogen huffed quietly. "He doesn't want people to know. He thinks if people at hogwarts find out she was...unwell, it would hurt our precious reputation."
The horror on his face made her speak again. "But Wilma wouldn't want people talking either. It wouldn't help her at the moment. She'd hate it."
Fred considered it for a second, and then nodded, appeased. He squeezed her wrist. "As long as she's okay."
The two of them returned to the group conversation, but his touch remained with her. That seemed to aid any insecurity she was still harbouring against Angelina, and Imogen found herself able to appreciate her loud laugh and stubborn humour as a friend might.
"Is this your work, Angelina?" she asked, gesturing to the blue fire with her free hand.
Angelina bared her teeth in a big grin. "Yeah, Hermione taught me how to do it, actually."
"Hermione Granger, really?" Imogen asked, surprised. She supposed she ought not to be. Everyone seemed to accept Hermione had some sort of super-human cleverness.
"Yeah, see," Lee started, and Imogen could already sense some biting joke brewing in him, "these muggleborns are much more capable than your lot realise."
A few chuckles came of it, Lee's the loudest of them all. Imogen rolled her eyes.
"I meant because she's a fourth year. It's impressive magic," Imogen admitted, and then cocked her head in mock-thought. "Anyway Lee, aren't you pureblood?"
He was full of scepticism. "If it matters."
Imogen made a point of looking him up and down, exaggerated to the moon and back. "Hmm. Yeah, I don't think I believe in pureblood supremacy."
All of them laughed, even Lee.
"Alright Falker, fair play," he conceded, laughing at himself.
It was nice, but all Imogen could focus on was Fred beside her, laughing at a joke Imogen had told. She felt like the coolest person in the whole world.
When the fire finally began to dwindle, none of them were ready to go inside. They waited until the magic wore off completely and they were left in the dark, before the six of them got up to go to bed. At the turning for Gryffindor tower, Hetty and Imogen said goodbye to the others, and they linked arms once again. Hetty seemed to want to walk slowly, and Imogen didn't mind that at all.
"So," Hetty said curiously, "you can tell me to fuck off if I'm wrong, but... is there something going on with you and Fred?"
Imogen's heart beat in her ears, but a smile broke onto her face. She didn't consider denying it for a second.
"Maybe."
Hetty's eyes widened. "Merlin, really?"
Imogen nodded, laughing nervously. Hetty erupted, and wrapped her in a hug.
"I -knew- it!" she exclaimed, as Imogen tried to calm her, "I knew you two were looking at each other at that party a few months ago!"
She demanded to know everything. And Imogen found that she actually wanted to tell her.
"There's not much to tell, honestly Hetty," she said, though she knew her eyes were shining. "But... I really like him."
Hetty's delight was evident. "Well come on, tell me! What's he like to be with?"
Imogen wasn't sure she was really qualified to answer that question, but she gave her best effort.
"He's sort of... sweet, surprisingly. Very straightforward. Hilarious, obviously," she would have cringed if Fred had ever heard her say that. "He knows exactly how to make me feel good."
Hetty raised her eyebrows.
"Not like that!" Imogen giggled. Though she'd be willing to bet it was true. She intended to find out. "He's just... he's amazing."
Hetty shook her head. "Wow. I'm loving the new you this year, Imogen, I have to say."
They reached the parting of their paths and shared a tight hug.
"Well, better get to bed," Hetty said.
Before she let her go, Imogen remembered. "Oh, but Hetty, we're kind of... keeping it quiet. You're the only person I've told."
Hetty smiled. "My lips are sealed, babe."
They said goodnight, and all the way to her common room, Imogen smiled to herself like an idiot. She didn't bother creeping into her dormitory. She knew that Mo would be in Victor's room again tonight, as she had been almost every night since the Yule Ball.
At first, Imogen had been annoyed that Mo had been avoiding her. A few weeks ago she would have said that Mo was the only person who would have understood what had gone on with Wilma, and of course she'd wanted her to be there for her. But now, Imogen had realised something odd. She wanted her to be there for her, but she did not need her to be. And if she'd rather spend her nights with Victor, Imogen decided she could live with that.