Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, or someone else who is not me. Thanks for refraining form suits.
Fred pulled open an eye and moved his leg across the bed. It was empty. And cold. She seemed to be staying out later and later in recent weeks, coming home as the dawn's first light broke through the hastily drawn blinds of his apartment. Fred rolled over, flopping his head back onto his pillow and looking up at the ceiling as the moonlight traced patterns across the cracked paint. She deserved better than this. Then again, so did he.
He heard the door creak open, and the telltale clicks of stiletto heels on the wooden floor as she dropped her keys on the table in the living room. Fred rolled over, hiding his face in his arms as she entered the bedroom. He listened intently as she slid out of her jacket and dropped in on a chair near the closet. After more rustling of fabric and zippers being undone, she walked over to the bed and pulled back the sheets, exposing Fred's skin to the cool air. He fought a shiver as she slid next to him. She settled in for a minute, and once the room fell silent again Fred felt a hand slide up his bare arm. He didn't respond. She sighed and dropped a kiss on the crook of his neck and pulled the blankets up to cover him, then turned on her side and drifted off to sleep.
Fred quickened his pace as he glanced at his watch, his free hand deep in his pocket, fingering a small velvet box. He burst through the door of Versailles, her favorite restaurant in Center City London. Although only a brief walk from Weasley Wizard Wheezes headquarters, Fred had gotten tied up problem shooting the newest shipment of extra sticky taffies, and he found himself running late, as usual. He glanced across the restaurant and spotted her running her finger over the rim of her wineglass, and her ran his hand over his hair and headed over. He placed a quick kiss on her check and slid into the seat opposite her.
It was funny how routine this had become over the past few years. First Friday of the month their table was reserved, the one under the red crystal chandelier in the farthest corner. Since they had been together she had changed slowly with time, but he still found himself staring into her dark eyes while a goofy smile played on his lips.
She smirked. She knew what was coming. He only got that sick sort of look when he was about to do it again.
He pulled the box from his pocket and slid it across the table in front of her, closed, as it had been the past few times. She didn't need to see it again. She already knew what it looked like by heart.
"Oh Fred…" she said. Her voice was tired.
"No, Millie, please. I don't know how much more I ca"
"Shut up Fred." She said coldly, cutting him off.
Fred stopped, opening his eyes and looking at her, puzzled. This wasn't how the conversation normally went. He was supposed to tell her that he wanted them to be together, and that the limbo was killing him. She was supposed to tell him that if he loved her he'd let her be. Something was wrong.
She looked at him, shaking her head, the fingers of her right hand grazing over the soft box. She bit her lip and looked down, cracking open the lid and taking in the diamond. It seemed to be relishing in the light it had lacked for so long. She tentatively removed the ring and looked at it for a second, hesitating. She knew he couldn't afford it, but he had bought it when he saw her looking through a window on the streets of London only a year into their relationship. How far they ad come since then. She slid it down her finger, marveling at how foreign it looked finally in place.
Fred furrowed his brow and looked at the ring, at Millicent and back again. Understanding spread across his face, and a smile cracked him from ear to ear.
"Does this mean…?"
Millicent nodded.
Fred rushed to her side, dropping to one knee and taking her in his arms in unabashed joy. Finally things were right, just as he had hoped but never expected. He wanted to tell her so much, like how much he loved her and how they would make it. She wanted to tell him just one thing, but she couldn't bear to, not when he looked so utterly happy. Besides, he would figure it out when she started getting sick in the morning and when her stomach began to grow. He was a smart enough boy.
Fred pulled open an eye and moved his leg across the bed. It was empty. And cold. She seemed to be staying out later and later in recent weeks, coming home as the dawn's first light broke through the hastily drawn blinds of his apartment. Fred rolled over, flopping his head back onto his pillow and looking up at the ceiling as the moonlight traced patterns across the cracked paint. She deserved better than this. Then again, so did he.
He heard the door creak open, and the telltale clicks of stiletto heels on the wooden floor as she dropped her keys on the table in the living room. Fred rolled over, hiding his face in his arms as she entered the bedroom. He listened intently as she slid out of her jacket and dropped in on a chair near the closet. After more rustling of fabric and zippers being undone, she walked over to the bed and pulled back the sheets, exposing Fred's skin to the cool air. He fought a shiver as she slid next to him. She settled in for a minute, and once the room fell silent again Fred felt a hand slide up his bare arm. He didn't respond. She sighed and dropped a kiss on the crook of his neck and pulled the blankets up to cover him, then turned on her side and drifted off to sleep.
Fred quickened his pace as he glanced at his watch, his free hand deep in his pocket, fingering a small velvet box. He burst through the door of Versailles, her favorite restaurant in Center City London. Although only a brief walk from Weasley Wizard Wheezes headquarters, Fred had gotten tied up problem shooting the newest shipment of extra sticky taffies, and he found himself running late, as usual. He glanced across the restaurant and spotted her running her finger over the rim of her wineglass, and her ran his hand over his hair and headed over. He placed a quick kiss on her check and slid into the seat opposite her.
It was funny how routine this had become over the past few years. First Friday of the month their table was reserved, the one under the red crystal chandelier in the farthest corner. Since they had been together she had changed slowly with time, but he still found himself staring into her dark eyes while a goofy smile played on his lips.
She smirked. She knew what was coming. He only got that sick sort of look when he was about to do it again.
He pulled the box from his pocket and slid it across the table in front of her, closed, as it had been the past few times. She didn't need to see it again. She already knew what it looked like by heart.
"Oh Fred…" she said. Her voice was tired.
"No, Millie, please. I don't know how much more I ca"
"Shut up Fred." She said coldly, cutting him off.
Fred stopped, opening his eyes and looking at her, puzzled. This wasn't how the conversation normally went. He was supposed to tell her that he wanted them to be together, and that the limbo was killing him. She was supposed to tell him that if he loved her he'd let her be. Something was wrong.
She looked at him, shaking her head, the fingers of her right hand grazing over the soft box. She bit her lip and looked down, cracking open the lid and taking in the diamond. It seemed to be relishing in the light it had lacked for so long. She tentatively removed the ring and looked at it for a second, hesitating. She knew he couldn't afford it, but he had bought it when he saw her looking through a window on the streets of London only a year into their relationship. How far they ad come since then. She slid it down her finger, marveling at how foreign it looked finally in place.
Fred furrowed his brow and looked at the ring, at Millicent and back again. Understanding spread across his face, and a smile cracked him from ear to ear.
"Does this mean…?"
Millicent nodded.
Fred rushed to her side, dropping to one knee and taking her in his arms in unabashed joy. Finally things were right, just as he had hoped but never expected. He wanted to tell her so much, like how much he loved her and how they would make it. She wanted to tell him just one thing, but she couldn't bear to, not when he looked so utterly happy. Besides, he would figure it out when she started getting sick in the morning and when her stomach began to grow. He was a smart enough boy.