It was morning, the sunrise filtering through the loosely drawn curtains easily to shine on Fred's skin as he sat on the bed. His clothes for the day were laying beside him, waiting to be put on. But he was there with his head in his hands, struggling to wake up at all.
"It's Saturday," he grumbled, "Why am I awake at seven in the morning?"
"Because we have a lot to do today," I replied.
Rummaging around in Fred's drawers for something to wear, my hands brushed against a knitted jumper that seemed extra soft to the touch. I flushed a red at the thought that I wore his clothes more than he did, but if it bothered him, he never mentioned it.
I looked over at Fred, his body still as he continued to stare at the ground drowsily. My mind raced with thoughts, what was he thinking about? Is he upset that I woke him up? Perhaps he's worried about the shop, or having to close down like the rest of Diagon Alley. Hermione hadn't written us all week, maybe he was worried for Ron?
"Merlin's beard," Fred groaned, raising his head and letting out a yawn.
"Do you get the feeling something bad is about to happen?" I mumbled, looking down at the sweater I had in my hands.
"No," he replied, "Why? Are you?"
"Well, so many good things have been happening lately. It almost seems off balanced."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Bill and Fleur announced their wedding, Glinda and I got our dream jobs, you and I...uh, got...married..."
"I can imagine that last one is especially good," he smiled, propping his hand up behind him to turn and face me more.
"Sure," I mumbled bashfully, turning away and pulling the sweater over my head.
"Try not to think to negatively," Fred replied, "I know it's easier said than done, but if something happens--we'll deal with it. Just like we've always done."
"Right, you're right," I stammered, "I don't even know why I brought it up."
"Because you're worried," I heard him stand and walk across the floor, "Which is fine, everyone gets worried sometimes."
Fred wrapped his arms around me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder. I felt my heartbeat pick up, and I briefly wondered if he could feel it too.
"You know why being worried is a good thing?" He whispered, "It means you care. You care an awful lot about everyone, and you just want them all to be okay."
"Yeah," I mumbled, "I know. I just wish there was some way I could make sure of it."
"How about you write Mum, ask her how things are going. You know she'd love that."
"She would. Alright," I muttered, folding my hands over his, "I'll send an owl later today."
"There we go," Fred said under his breath, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.
"Letter time!" Glinda shouted from the living room, "Ooh, and it's a few pages."
"Few pages?" George replied as Fred and I scrambled to get dressed the rest of the way. "How are we supposed to sit here that long."
"Oh, give me a minute, let me skim it first."
I walked in the common area ahead of Fred, leaning on the back of the arm chair watching as Glinda's eyes hungrily devoured the words on the parchment.
"Harry's gotten into N.E.W.T. potions despite not doing well enough on his O.W.L.s--I think it may be Dumbledore's doing but I'm not sure. He was able to get this textbook that has notes written all in it, but won't listen to me when I tell him that it's dangerous. Hm, hm, hm...it has spells I've never heard of scribbled on pages and random potions instructions that are wildly different than the normal ones. Did you guys remember seeing something like that?"
"No, I had all my own textbooks," I shrugged, "Must be a classroom one."
"Yeah, we used Percy's old books, so all we had were his shitty notes."
"Hermione seems really worried about it, for some reason, she goes on and on about it for a little while here."
"It doesn't sound too bad if all it has are some made up spells and alternate instructions," George waved off, "Anything else?"
"Well, it's actually more about the book. Have you guys heard of the Half Blood Prince?"
"Sounds like a storybook character," Fred sighed, "Nope."
"Mmh hm," I shook my head.
"Okay, enough about the book," Glinda agrees, "She says that Harry was appointed captain for the Gryffindor quidditch team, and Ron made the keeper position."
From Fred and George's immediate hoops and hollers of excitement I assumed that was a good thing, and I couldn't help but smile as they spilled out quidditch information to keep me and Glinda up to speed on whatever that meant.
"Something else, wait," Glinda skimmed ahead a little bit, "We ran into a bit of an odd event after going to Hogsmeade. Katie Bell had a cursed amulet that she couldn't remember being given. Apparently she was ordered to give it to someone, but accidentally touched it herself. Harry says he saw it at Borgin and Burkes, and-"
Glinda cut herself off, her eyes continuing to read as her face paled a little.
"What is it?" George asked.
"From, uh, from Borgin and Burkes. Harry thinks it's Draco's doing."
We all stalled for a moment, briefly remembering Glinda's worry about Draco's secret mission that had something to do with Hogwarts and Dumbledore. A cursed amulet that Katie had been ordered to give to someone could mean several things, but the most apparent one was that if Draco was responsible, he was trying to seriously hurt someone.
"Why does he think that?" Fred questioned, leaning forward from his seat in the arm chair and resting his elbows on his knees.
"She doesn't say," Glinda returned to the parchment, moving the first page away as she read the second. "There's no other mention of it, only more of this Slughorn guy."
"Rubbish," George mumbled under his breath.
"The rest of the letter is stuff you guys wouldn't care about," she said, even though her interest was clearly peaked at the rest of the contents. "Except there's a quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin coming up, she'll write after that apparently."
"Brilliant," George stood, about to walk into his bedroom when Glinda zoomed by him into it first. She closed the door behind her, shouting out a warning not to come in. "Nevermind."
"I wonder what she talks to herself about in there," Fred rolled his eyes, "We're right here, after all."
"Well, none of us are girls," I shrugged. "She's probably just excited to talk to Hermione."
"Glinda's a girl?" Fred pretend to be shocked, a hand resting over his chest, "Merlins' beard and robe, I think I'm going to be sick."
"Mmh," George grumbled, going back to sit on the couch.