6:31PM 1/5/1995
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
SAITADA, CELTIC GODDESS OF GRIEF and all-round, certified badass, would be mortified if she could see how much the memory of Matthew's death sickens Joey every time her birthday rolls around.
Joey knows everybody thinks her hatred of her birthday is silly, like, it's the anniversary of her whizzing around the sun and not the apocalypse or anything. But that's not the point - Matthew Attlee's death, on the second of May, 1989, was because of his sister. There's no hiding from the truth even if it is all acrid like dried blood caked under her fingernails. So no, she isn't going to enjoy her birthday, thank you very much.
It's the night before now, and she's idly twirling spaghetti around her fork at the Gryffindor table, naturally. And all she can think about is Matthew; she misses him all the time, obviously - what's she meant to do, only miss him at weekends? - but the nostalgia is basically a poison-laced knife at this time of year. (Thanking you, Taurus season!)
But Merlin, she wants him here now, as she half-heartedly listens to the twins arguing with Lola about which of their brothers she would destroy in a fight. For the record: it's all of them!
'I could annihilate Percy without even trying,' Lola announces.
Fred thinks for a moment, which Joey has never seen him do before and it stuns her. Is he feeling too well? 'Nah, he could just decapitate you with his old Head Boy badge.'
'Bighead Boy,' George corrects. 'If all else fails, at least he can knock you out with his abnormally large noggin.'
'You're forgetting that Lols is a Metamorphmagus,' says Lee. 'She could just transform into, I dunno, Cornelius Fudge and Perce would shit himself.'
'Genius,' George says, a little too admiringly, and Joey's heartstrings tug.
There's a playful nudge from her left, and it yanks her properly back to the first of May, 1995.
'You all right?' Fred asks, voice thick through a mouthful of spaghetti.
'Fine, of course, duh, why wouldn't I be?' Joey lies.
They don't know about Matthew and they don't need to. Ever.
'Nah, she's half left,' pipes up George from her other side.
That makes her laugh. Fred smiles at the sound of her sunshine chuckle and nudges her again. 'Just checking.'
She knows it meant less than nothing, but then she looks down and his pinky is resting gently against hers. Fred and gentle are two words that shouldn't exist in the same sentence, but there it is: freckled with its milky nail and tiny cuts, lightly ink stained, wrapped around the crook of her own, and you'd best believe it, baby!
She hates herself for not getting over him yet; here she flipping is, would you believe it, practically drooling over his tiniest finger.
'Of course Attlee is not alright, you numbskulls,' Lola bursts out. Her strong Welsh accent is harsh and lovely. 'Have you forgotten what day it is tomorrow?'
Tomorrow.
'World Tuna Day,' Joey says very quietly.
Lola blinks. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Tomorrow is World Tuna Day,' she repeats, and she wonders briefly how she knows this, but then she remembers she's Johannah Attlee, aficionado of the weird and wonderful.
'It's the most important day of the year,' Fred says, without skipping a beat. Merlin, she's so grateful for him.
For them, she corrects her brain sternly.
George is nodding too. 'It's a very special celebration for us.'
So, here's the deal: Joey knows they just can't wrap their lovely redheads around why she dreads her birthday like it's a lesson with Professor Binns or something. (Actually, she doesn't think Binns' lessons were that bad... he was only trying his best! He just bored them all, including himself, to death, that's all.)
But even if she considered telling them, she'd choke on the words. They would run a fucking mile, if they knew. And Joey can't lose them as well.
Lola rolls her eyes, she's looking at the trio like she's trying to calculate how many brain cells they have combined, and it's not a very large number. 'What do you do,' she says, her voice heavy with sarcasm, 'make sacrifices to the tuna gods or some cachu?'
'Oooo, it sounds like a cult!' Lee says excitedly. 'I want in!'
'I always had you down as a mackerel person, Lee.'
'Johannah Attlee, how in the name of Godric Gryffindor can you tell what type of fish somebody is?' Lola demands, properly, properly bemused now. Seriously, Joey won't be surprised if she sees Lola putting an application for new friends on the noticeboard tomorrow.
'Lee is hands-down a mackerel person, it's o-fish-al,' Fred says, and there's that sudden rush of gratefulness for him again! Shit, for them.
'That joke, bro, was a pile of carp,' sniggers George.
Joey nods in agreement. 'Yeah, Freddie, this isn't the time nor the plaice!'
'Ahh guys, you're krilling me right now,' Fred moans.
'I bet Lola won't be cod dead joining in with this,' says Lee.
Lola looks like she's internally struggling. Then-
'You lot chat an absolute load of pollocks.'
THE CURSE OF EARLY MAY was that summer was always tantalisingly close - but just out of reach. In the evenings the sun swathed fading muggle houses in shades of gold, dappling its light on the clothes that hung like nooses, dripping wet on laundry lines in the Attlee back garden. The flowerbeds flourished; the polyanthus bled through the soil; and Matthew's heart bled through his shirt as he poured out his soul to his gentle sister, tears streaming down his cheeks, down the mauve stains that his parents had inflicted on his fragile paper skin.
'I hate them, Annie,' he'd wept bitterly, with the startling sincerity of a ten year old. 'I wish they were dead. What do you think it feels like, dying?'
The oppressive spring air hung heavy with fate. That was the night he found out the answer to his question.
Joey had gone to bed at nine pm (despite whatever Pyotr says, sleep is not for the weak!) with her heart bursting with fish puns and the naive hope that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wouldn't be quite so bad.
So when she wakes up gasping for air, her lungs screaming at her like they've swallowed daggers, she's gutted, yes, but surprised? Not really.
It's selfish, she knows, yet she can't face being alone right now. The Hufflepuffs share two-bed dormitories, and Ivy's bed is vacated, so Joey's best guess is that she's on some midnight adventure with Pyotr. The only Ivy in the room is smiling serenely in photos of her with her brother Dean (ouch) that adorn the walls as Joey creeps into the corridor.
'Cedric,' she murmurs softly, cheek against cold wood of his door. 'Ceddie, are you asleep?'
Of course he is. The clock marches towards one with its merciless tick. Joey sinks to the floor, clutching her wand like she held Matthew's hand, once.
'Happy birthday to me,' she sings, her voice barely above a breath. Then, with hesitation: 'Happy birthday to us.'
The truth is so painful it's like it transcends agony. Joey may or may not have neglected to mention the fact that it's not just any old brother who sleeps below the ground because of her, it's her twin.
Well, wouldn't you?
Joey believes in destiny and all the other omens that tug at our puppet strings, domineering our lives, and there's no doubt about it: Fate, that steel-hearted temptress, royally fucked her over with this one!
Then she remembers him. Slowly, lovingly, Joey mouths his name in the dark, like she reveres it too much to say - which she does.
He can banish away any demons with one lazy flick of his wand, if only she asks him to. That much is certain.
And so Joey stands, muttering 'Lumos', and follows the light like her life depends on it all the way to Gryffindor tower.
So what if she's meant to be getting over him? Just this once, Joey needs Fred more than anything in the world.
The universe, probably, but that's a bit deep for her liking.
'This isn't even your common room, dear,' scolds the Fat Lady with one eye still sliding shut, when Joey reaches the portrait hole.
'Balderdash,' she says, smoothing her snowman pyjamas. Terrified to see Fred, if she's honest.
'Rude,' mumbles the Fat Lady, swinging her portrait open, allowing Joey to clamber frantically into the hole.
As soon as she's in the empty common room Joey's thinking, OK, maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Like, is Fred really gonna be chuffed to see her hovering over his bed like some weird phantom? Yeah, probably not, who is she even kidding?
'Joeypoos?' says the voice, his voice, emerging from the shadows. 'Fuck, you scared me shitless. What in the name of Merlin's tits?'
Well if anyone should be shocked, it's her: quite frankly, she nearly jumped out of her skin!
She clucks her tongue between her teeth. 'I - I just had a nightmare. But it's fine, so I'm going now, like, I dunno why I even came here.'
Fred laughs. 'Oh, so it wasn't because you knew I'd make you feel a million times better? You just happened to stumble in?'
It must be illegal, right, for him to just be standing there, in all his glory in the moonlight that pours from the window. (Full moon: bad luck.) And he's got the audacity to just be wearing his pyjama bottoms, so his chest is out, splattered in freckles, hitching with every breath?
Leaning against the fucking wall and everything, slender arms across his chest. Seriously.
First a nightmare, and then this? Yeah, this isn't fair, and Joey is far from okay right now!
'I'm going,' she says again, her voice monotone, her eyes suddenly fascinated with her fidgeting fingers.
'You're going nowhere.' He walks over and there his pinky is again, curling around hers again, and this time it's on purpose. That just makes her feel jittery all over. 'I know what you're like on your birthday. Like it's armageddon or some shite. And you wanna see your fit best friend.' He holds up his hands with a devilish smile. 'I get it.'
'Um, I never said you were fit,' Joey says quietly, attempting to preserve the last scrap of dignity she has left.
'A-ha! You just did!'
Her mouth falls open in shock. 'Fred Weasley, you put the words in my mouth!'
Thanking you, all the available gods, that George didn't hear that, because let's face it: the euphemisms would never end!
Fred's maybe thinking the same thing, because his ears are tinged crimson; then again, maybe it's just the light.
'Listen,' he begins, all in a rush. The words are falling over each other, and he's a bit stunned by this random lack of confidence, if he's honest. 'Do you want to, I dunno, stay with me tonight? You don't have to, obviously.'
She remembers how much sleeping curled up next to him calmed her the night before the First Task and nods, beaming.
His face cracks into his trademark smile. Crooked, with a chipped tooth she's never noticed before: hidden in the shadow of his lip, a souvenir of a prank gone wrong, probably.
How did it come to this, Joey thinks. Gazing at Fred's blooming tooth.
Merlin, she's in deep.
'Come on then,' he says, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her onto his shoulder. And she's laughing, banging her hands feebly against the cool marble of his shoulder blades, all the way up the spiral staircase to his dormitory.
She's been in there a hundred times before, and it is absolutely terrifying. To put it simply, it's how Joey imagines the pits of hell, but smelling of stale Cauldron Cakes and testosterone. With the aroma of what could quite possibly be mould for good measure.
'Sorry about George's deafening snoring,' Fred laughs quietly. 'We have tried everything, except actually putting the pillow over his face. I can't lie to you, it is tempting.'
'Are you sure they won't mind me being here?'
Fred shrugs. 'Listen, Lee won't give a shit, and Kenneth Towler'll probably shit himself, I wouldn't be surprised if he's never seen a girl before...'
'Fred,' Joey chastises, but she's snorting.
'...and there's Derek McLaggen, but George has been dying for an excuse to beat him up, so don't worry.'
'I don't worry about anything.'
'That's a fucking lie, babe, if ever I heard one.'
'Shush, you,' she yawns, crawling under his patchwork duvet.
'Shush yourself,' he says, and she notices he's fighting sleep as well, his eyelids suddenly heavy. 'Night, Joeypoos.'
'Goodnight, Freddie,' she whispers. With a rustle of the sheets she turns onto her side, eyes tracing the constellations the freckles make on his back, seared onto his shoulder blades like wings. Aries, Gemini, Sagittarius.
Her nightmare, in Hufflepuff's basements, is very far away. Joey smiles and closes her eyes.
Really, maybe this birthday won't be so bad after all.
GEORGE JUST CAN'T STOP SMIRKING.
'What's the matter, you grinning git?' Fred demands, surveying his brother from where he's snuggled under the covers of his bed.
Her limbs are tangled against his, her tiny hand gently clutching his elbow. In fact Fred was actually woken up when he became conscious of her auburn hair fanned out over his face, basically suffocating him - although George's giggles certainly contributed.
He kind of wants to stay here forever and he isn't really sure why. Like, normally he'd be pissed off because he likes to splay all over the bed, and she's taking up half of his room, but right now he doesn't even care.
'Nothing, nothing.' George yawns, climbing out of his own bed and hunting for clothes. 'I just... I wasn't aware we were having a slumber party last night.'
The younger twin gestures towards Joey. The older twin scowls.
'What's a girl gotta do to have some peace around here?' Joey mumbles, stirring.
Fred smiles at the sound of her voice. Bleary and disgruntled in the morning, but still, her voice. 'Peace? Have you heard of that, George?'
'Nope. I don't have a clue what that is, Fred.'
'You both have poo for brains,' she mumbles into Fred's pillow.
He laughs, pulling a megaphone out from underneath his bed and placing it against her ear. 'HAPPY WORLD TUNA DAY!'
Joey yells in shock, nearly tumbling off the bed. 'Where in the name of Merlin did you get that?'
'You really don't want to know.'
George's shaking his head fondly. 'Oh, young Johannah, you're an adult now.'
'That's fucking terrifying,' says Fred, whilst George nods in agreement. 'They grow up so fast, don't they Georgie!'
'They most certainly do, Freddie. Pass me a tissue, I think I'm welling up!'
'Oh, please say you're not gonna make me celebrate my birthday,' Joey groans.
'OK!' says George cheerily. 'We're not gonna make you celebrate your birthday!'
'But that's a lie!' finishes Fred. 'Sorry!'
He doesn't sound very sorry at all.
'Ugh,' Joey moans, shoving the pillow over her face. 'You two are so...'
'Amazing?'
'Brilliant?'
'Excellent?'
'Clever?'
'Handsome?'
'... horrible,' she finishes, and yet she's already trying to resist a smile.
'Yeah, yeah, whatever,' Fred says, all smug.
'Just think,' George says, 'it's legal for you to hex us now.'
'Well, that didn't stop me from hexing you before.'
'No it didn't,' mutters Fred darkly. 'My toenails are still traumatised.'
HE'S PLANNED A PICNIC, APPARENTLY, so Joey knows full well she could quite possibly die of poisoning today.
Well, is it really a day well spent with the twins if there isn't at least one safety hazard? Yeah, no, she didn't think so.
He's also let slip that it's just going to be the two of them, because they need to keep up the appearance of dating, obviously. (Even if the Prophet keeps publishing stories saying they're related, all happy families, causing the knife of nostalgia to twist even more.)
'Where are you taking me?'
'It's a surprise.'
'Oooooo,' she says, excited despite the birthday blues. Then she stops short. 'Wait. Is it illegal?'
'You overestimate me, Joeypoos! I would never arrange something illegal.'
'You definitely would.'
'OK, fine, I definitely would.'
They burst out of the Entrance Hall into the warm late morning air. It's surprisingly sultry for early May, like any amount of magic could happen, but still with a salubrious breeze that turns Fred's cheeks into roses.
Not that she's admiring them and the way they glow, red and round and rosy, or anything.
'Hey, Freddie, watch this,' Joey says, and without waiting for his answer she tumbles down the hill, rolling down and down, laughing and screaming for joy all the way.
By the time he joins her by the lakeside she's doing this weird mix of panting and gasping, and it's actually kind of... cute. That surprises him, but there really isn't any other word for it: frankly, right now, Joey Attlee looks bloody adorable.
He's always thought she looked nice (he's her best friend, it's in the job description to hype her up!) but now it's like the old world's been clawed away and replaced by a new wonderful, colourful version. A world where Joey is a little bit more than just his best friend.
Oh, fuck.
Fred shoves that thought away (because it's a stupid possibility, right? Even Fred Weasley, impossibility-extraordinaire, thinks that is just outrageous) and instead opens the picnic basket, its contents spilling out onto grass that's bedazzled with daisies. Daisies that Joey is currently picking, like a child, her fingers stained with petals. Loves me, loves me not. 'Here,' he says. 'I got you Fudge Flies.'
'You knew they were my favourites?' she asks, her hopes suddenly swelling. Loves me.
'Duh, I've seen you lose your shit over them for the past six years.' His words pierce her inflating hope with one deft swipe. Loves me not.
They idle away the rest of the afternoon, drinking in each other's company, revelling in it, and it's only when it begins to rain that Fred grabs her hand and they run back to the refuge of the castle.
And it's only that night when he glances in the mirror that he remembers her daisy chain is still crowning the waves of his hair, delicate and yet unbreakable, just like her.
And it's only that night when she glances in the mirror that she sees hazelnut eyes that are Matthew's, ugh, but eyes that sparkle with hope and are finally - finally! - moving on.
(She still isn't over Fred yet. But, you know, she's allowed to indulge on her birthday, right? So she'll start getting over him. From tomorrow, she promises. And yes, Joey Attlee may not have a good track record of keeping promises, but she doesn't break them on purpose.
She promises.)
A/N
whew, the writers' block for this one killed me off!! i'm not even kidding, i wrote five drafts but i'm finally happy with it:O i hope you all are too!
i just wanted to say thank u for all the lovely comments and votes recently, i appreciate everything sooo much! i'm a bit behind with replying to comments because this past week has been hectic as hell but i will eventually xxx
i hope you're all safe and well! and remember to stan kazbrekkers and bloodquills for clear skin!
lots of love for u all, nolan<333
ps. world tuna day IS a thing !!! and it IS the second of may !!! and yes i love inflicting pain on 1998 joey with this bday;)