Entr'acte: Chapter 2
A multi-chapter story by Ky'atia
Part of the "The
Dance" series: Prequel to "The Dance"
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It was midnight and everyone else had long since gone to bed, the excitement of the first day back to Hogwarts coercing them to their beds much sooner than normal. Only Fred Weasley remained awake. He sat and looked on as the fire gradually turned to embers. As he glanced at the clock, he sighed; he had to be awake in seven hours. He really needed to be getting to sleep, but something was holding him back. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep; certainly he did. Surely the darkness of sleep was better than lying awake, turning over again and again the events of the day. Was it really less than a day ago that he and George had stopped speaking? It seemed like so much longer.
Fred pulled up his shirt and looked down at his stomach. He nodded sadly to himself. Sure enough, he could see that his skin had darkened where George had punched him. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it for saying such horrible things, but that didn't stop it from hurting more than just his skin. He pushed his shirt back down and lied down on the couch. Sighing, he closed his eyes in a small attempt at relaxation and tried to forget about their fight. The room was silent except for the drizzling of rain outside for quite some time. And just as he was drifting off to sleep…
"Fred?" came a voice from behind him.
Fred shot up off the couch, his heart racing. "Yes? Who's there?" he asked. The person was covered in shadows. He saw a figure step through the darkness. It was Oliver.
"It is just me. I had a lot on my mind and just couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come down here to think. Should I go?"
"No, no. Don't go." Fred motioned to a spot next to him. "You can sit with me. I can't really sleep either." He rubbed his eyes and yawned deeply.
Oliver crossed the room and sat next to Fred. "Sorry if I am intruding. I know you must have a lot to think about."
"You are not intruding at all. I could really use the company, actually. But don't worry about me; you said you had a lot on your mind. What is it?"
Oliver sat in silence for a moment and sighed, looking away from Fred. "I… well… my parents want me to do something after Hogwarts that I am not exactly… interested in doing. I want to play Quidditch and eventually marry, but it seems… they have other plans for me."
"Like what?"
Oliver met Fred's curious eyes and smiled. "It is a bit complicated, really. Maybe I'll tell you another time."
"Oh… okay."
"Well, what classes are you taking this year?" Oliver asked, in a rather obvious attempt at changing the subject, but Fred didn't protest.
"Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Astronomy… the usual garbage. Honestly, I'm not sure why I am going to need all this. After all, George and I are going to open up our own store, so…" Fred felt a pang shoot through his chest as the fight from earlier echoed through his mind. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't want Oliver to see him cry again. "What about you? What classes are you taking this year?"
"Umm… Ancient Runes, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and… I think that is it."
Fred's mouth was agape. "How are you going to keep your head from exploding? Seriously!" he added, watching Oliver laugh, "I would die from Arithmancy alone, forget the rest of it!"
"It isn't that bad, Fred. Besides, I don't have a lot of choice. My parents are making me take the courses. They say that they will be useful once I am in, well, the real world, I guess. They are probably right. But about Arithmancy, it isn't my biggest worry. My Potions course will be done through private lessons."
"Why? I thought Snape never gave private lessons to anyone…"
"Well, he and my father are friends, you see. And my father wants me to 'get ahead' so he got him to agree to give me the lessons."
"Sounds like a nightmare, honestly. I hate potions."
"I am actually fairly good, if you would need any help."
"Thanks. If I decide not to fail, I might take you up on that."
"Don't you want to do well?"
"Nah, not really. Can't do too well or else Mum will expect it all the time."
Oliver smiled at him. "See? You sound more like yourself already."
"Well, I feel better having someone to talk to. It is just hard not having George around."
"It's okay. Why don't we have breakfast tomorrow or Wednesday? It might help to keep your mind off things. What is your schedule for the next few days?"
"Let's see… Tuesday I don't have class until 10:00 and I am free again after 3:00. Wednesday, I have class from 9:00 until 1:00."
"I've got History of Magic at 8:00, and I doubt you want to get up really early. We could wait until lunch, maybe."
Fred nodded. "If I happen to become masochistic between now and 7:00, I'll see you there, but waiting until lunch is more likely. What time should we meet?"
"Well, I finish up with Charms at noon and am free until 1:00. How does that sound?"
"Great. I have that hour free too."
He smiled and stood to leave. "Sounds great. I'll see you then, Fred. Good night."
"Thanks for everything, Oliver," he said.
Oliver nodded, still smiling, and walked up to his room.
Fred stared into the fireplace thinking of tomorrow and whispered absently to himself, "Thanks for everything…"
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The next morning, Fred found himself lying awake in his bed before the sun had fully risen. He rolled over and saw his twin staring at him with… was that a look of sadness? George hastily looked down at his shoes and began tying them before Fred could tell. Fred sat up in bed and opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a glare from George as he walked away. Fred got up and followed him.
"George! Wait!"
George didn't wait. He kept walking down the stairs, into the common room, and finally out of the Gryffindor tower altogether with Fred calling to him the whole way. About halfway down the hallway George spun and looked Fred in the eye.
"Why the hell are you following me?" he spat at him.
Fred was visibly hurt. "George, I just want to talk to you…"
"Talk."
"I… I just…" Fred faltered. "I am sorry for saying that about you. About us. You know I don't hate being your twin."
The fire in George's eyes grew to a blaze at the mention of Fred's words. He turned and kept walking, his robes dancing like flames behind him.
"George, wait!"
George turned once more and stalked back towards Fred. "You call me names, say you hate being my twin, and all you can say is that you're sorry?! Fred, you need to leave me alone. I don't want to speak to you. Don't talk to me anymore. Don't even look at me. For now, I want nothing to do with you. Am I clear?"
Fred's gaze was fixed on a bit of paper on the floor. He nodded, not looking away. George turned and walked away. He didn't look back.
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