Chapter Three

Time to Heal

--

Our most difficult task as a friend is to off
understanding when we don't understand.

--

"Mum, I wish you would just believe me," said Fred, his eyes dancing like mad.

"Sweetheart, I've told you a dozen times now that I believe you," said Molly in a skeptical tone, placing a steaming cup of tea before her son. "I'm sure Toby came to tell you Briney is still alive. Now be a dear, and drink your tea."

Fred rolled his eyes and obeyed his mother. Ginny looked on at her brother through the doorway, George placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder from behind. Arthur would be returning home soon, Molly had sent for him as soon as she'd convinced Fred to eat supper at the Burrow. Loud voices and fumbling footsteps could be heard coming through the front door. The four Weasleys in the kitchen didn't respond, choosing to remain frozen in time. Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into the kitchen with cheerful grins on their faces. They immediately faded at the sight of the other's despondent expressions.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron stupidly, looking from Molly to George. "I thought you lot were going out to dinner-"

Molly abruptly burst into another fit of tears. Ginny shot Ron a nasty look before shuffling her mother into the other room to console her in peace. Ron shrugged and looked at Harry for support. Harry merely shrugged in reply. Fred released a heavy sigh at Molly's theatrics and turned to the trio.

"Hey there, Harry," said Fred, nodding at him.

"Hi, Fred," said Harry.

The trio and the twins stood in silence for a few moments before anyone decided to speak again, or even move. Hermione looked to Ron to inquire about the curious situation again to his brothers. After a short unspoken argument through facial expressions Ron gave in to her plea.

"So…what's got Mum all up in arms?" asked Ron, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, it's…er-" started George, unable to finish his response and peering over at Fred.

"She thinks I've gone mad," Fred spat, gripping his cup of tea tightly with both hands.

"Oh," said Ron, eyeing his two friends wearily. "You mean she thought you were normal before?"

"Shut it, Ron," George warned.

"Alright, sorry," Ron smirked. "Why does she think that?"

"Because I believe Briney is still alive," said Fred, turning his back to them and sipping his tea again.

The trio looked at George for some sort of explanation, but he gave none. He merely stood absolutely still, staring blankly at the splintered floorboards. Hermione looked from Ron to Harry, waiting for one of them to say something. After a couple more insufferable moments of silence Hermione took a deep breath and stepped forward. She took an apprehensive seat beside Fred; he didn't even acknowledge her presence. Looking back at the boys a final time, Hermione placed a kind hand over Fred's. He still didn't give any reaction to her touch, opting to stare at the steaming liquid. Hermione cleared her throat and tilted her head to the side.

"Fred, um…well," she began awkwardly, pausing to shoot a pleading look at Harry and Ron. "Briney will always be alive in your heart, in all our hearts."

Fred quickly pulled his hand away from Hermione and rolled his eyes at her comment. He pushed his chair out from the table and grumbled shallowly.

"Don't insult my intelligence. Did you think telling me that would make come to my senses or something? I'm not insane, so don't treat me as less of a person," he snarled, placing his hand atop the table and leaning down to meet her eyes. "I mean- give me a break, Hermione, is that the best you can come up with? I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Without another word, Fred strode to the kitchen door, walked outside and slammed it behind him. Hermione's jaw hung loose, staring after him. Ron and Harry shared her expression. That was the last reaction they expected from the lighthearted jokester.

"He doesn't mean it," said George, taking Fred's seat. "He's not himself, so try not to take anything he says to you to heart. I know It's hard, believe me- I know."

"I thought he'd been er- getting better," said Ron.

"That, him being a royal arse, that is better," said George, frowning and propping his chin atop his fist.

"How is that better?" asked Hermione.

Ron and Harry each pulled up chairs at the table to join Hermione and George. Hearing second hand stories from Mrs. Weasley didn't give the proper insight to what was really going on with Fred. They knew George sugarcoated any news about his twin to Molly to avoid causing her to fret about him anymore than she already did. They'd been anxious to hear what exactly had been happening to Fred over the past few months, and George was the only one (besides Fred) who could give an accurate depiction of what that was. George sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with his open palm. He checked the kitchen door to make certain Fred wasn't in earshot before he decided to continue speaking to the trio.

"Well, I'd rather have him be an arse than a mute," said George, ruffling his hair. "Though another month of this, and I'll rip out his tongue me self."

"A mute?" repeated Hermione, raising her brow.

"Yeah," said George, anxiously peering over at the door again. "He went a good month where he did nothing but work. He didn't speak, literally. When he'd come back to the flat he'd just sit, staring into space. I'd try to start a conversation with him, but it was like he was a vegetable or something."

"That's awful," said Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Ron. "Mum would have wanted to know."

"What good would it have done?" said George. "You know as well as I do that Mum would have gone even crazier with worry, and that would have just made things worse. After awhile he slowly started to come out of it, but he still wasn't and still isn't himself. He loses his temper at random, he still barely speaks unless it's about work, and he just sulks about like a shell of the person he once was."

"What are you going to do?" asked Harry.

"Well, I refuse to give up on him. He's my best mate, and he'd do the same for me. We plan to go on holiday next week to try to take his mind off things, but that's only if Mum doesn't ship him off to the loony bin before then."

--

"Molly, I think you're being a bit melodramatic," said Arthur, placing a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. "The boy was in love, and he's had his heart broken in the worst of ways. If he wasn't a bit unstable I'd be worried. I'm sure he doesn't really believe what you claim. He's probably still just grief-stricken-"

"Arthur, it's much more than just grief," Molly whispered harshly, looking over her shoulder for shadows under the door to spot any eavesdroppers. "He's utterly delusional. He has convinced himself that Briney is literally still alive. He told me he's seen her animagus in the store, her owl circling their flat, and I've told you about the incident from this evening about his house elf hallucination."

Arthur sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of their bed. He hadn't heard about the other incidents until now. He refused to believe Fred, who may have always been eccentric, could be going mad. It just wasn't possible. He and George had become so successful and level-headed, if there was ever a time for Fred to go mad it would be the farthest time from now. Something just wasn't right. Molly paced back and forth, burning a hole along the hardwood floor in their bedroom. She'd stayed up many nights pacing because of one or both of the twins but never because of something like this. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Molly turned to her husband, a conclusion set on her mind.

"I'll take him to be examined," she said urgently. "St. Mungos-"

"Molly, no," Arthur interrupted. "He would never agree to it, and besides, what good would it do? If he's perfectly sane then he'll hate us for doubting him. If he is, like you say, not in the right mind -which I'm not suggesting he is- then they'll just treat him like some sort of invalid up in that hospital. It is a lose-lose situation."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Arthur?" Molly snapped. "Just let him slip further and further into lunacy-"

"I suggest we give him time to heal," said Arthur rationally.

"It's been three months," said Molly.

"Yes, it has," Arthur nodded. "But I don't see a time limit to how long a person is permitted to grieve the loss of a loved one, do you? I know I certainly still miss that lovely young woman, and I know you do as-"

Molly stifled a loud cry, pulling her damp handkerchief out to dab her cheeks. She'd used the white linen quite often lately, and she really wasn't enjoying that fact. Arthur regretted causing his wife to weep, but he knew at the sight of her tears that he had won the argument. It was a rare win and an important one. Molly didn't reply to her husband's comment with any words. She simply nodded her head at him, blowing her nose as loud as a bugle.

--

"Oh, bleeding hell," I groaned, pushing myself up into a sitting position upon the aging couch. "If I manage to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep without you waking me up it'll be a miracle."

I smirked down at my enormous stomach, placing my palm upon the source of the kicking. Ever since the baby had learned how to kick that was all he or she wanted to do. Day or night, it was like a football match inside my stomach. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. I didn't mind too much, however; it meant the baby was active and healthy. That was one less worry on my brain. But I was sure I wouldn't get another decent night's sleep in the three or so months remaining before the baby made his or her entrance into the world. And Merlin knows I'd be constantly sleepless once the baby does finally arrive.

I slid back against the distorted couch pillows to attempt to catch a few more moments of shut-eye, but I was interrupted again by something other than the baby's kicks. I heard the locks upon the front door begin to unlatch from the other room. I struggled to get to my feet, pushing myself forcefully off the couch and holding my lower back with my hand. I waddled anxiously into the hallway, pulling my wand from my pocket. I pointed the tip of it directly at the door, waiting for my intruder to enter. Finally, I saw who had made the commotion. It was the only human contact I'd had in months, the person who had found me the night of my "death." I lowered my wand and scoffed slightly at my own paranoia.

"Well, that certainly was a pleasant welcome."

"Sorry," I smirked, welcoming my guest inside. "I know how terrifying a sleep deprived pregnant woman must be."

--

"Honestly, George, can you believe her?" Fred ranted, leading the way back into their flat.

"No," George sighed despondently, tailing behind. "She's completely mental."

Fred illuminated the flat's lights with a slight flick of his wand. He had been rambling about how ridiculous Molly had been since the moment the pair had set foot outside the Burrow. Molly did give up her pestering after her conversation alone with her husband, but her eyes spoke the words her mouth did not. For the additional hour or so the twins suffered through at the Burrow, Molly appeared to be choking back tears nearly the entire time, unable to take her eyes off Fred.

George had a knot in his chest the size of a bowling ball. He physically ached from guilt the he'd been suffering over the past few months. George had had countless restless nights over his decision to keep Briney's secret. He regretted agreeing to her terms more than anything now. He'd contemplated breaking his promise more times than he could count, but the possibility of Fred suffering fatal consequences swayed him from revealing the truth. Now that Fred had begun growing suspicious, George felt more and more cornered between what he wanted to do and what he must do.

"Er- so on a lighter note," said George, loosening his tie. "Where did you want to go on our holiday? Romania, Egypt, B-"

"How can you still want to go on holiday at a time like this?"

"What the do you mean?" asked George, pausing midway through his tie removal.

"Why would I leave now that I'm certain Briney is still alive?" Fred replied, looking at his brother as if he was a complete idiot for asking such an obvious question.

"Fred-"

"I don't expect you to believe me, George," said Fred, scooping Troll up off the floor and ruffling his furry head. "But I expect you to support me."

"How can you expect that from me, Fred?" said George, in an almost annoyed tone.

"Because you're my brother and my best mate," said Fred simply.

Tossing his tie upon the wooden tabletop, George collapsed into a seat in front of his twin. He scratched the top of his head, trying his hardest not to be infuriated with Fred's decision to cancel their holiday. After several uncomfortable seconds, George peered up at his brother.

"No," said George, visibly surprised at himself at his own reply. "No, mate, you can't ask me to support this sick new obsession of yours. I'm sorry, but I refuse."

Fred froze for a moment. It was blatantly obvious that he did not expect George's response. He really didn't know how to reply at all, actually. Throughout their entire life together there was not one solitary second when either of them felt utterly alone. There was no such thing as Fred without George, it was just implausible to even think about separating the troublesome twins. Yet, at that moment, Fred felt as if he was looking at a stranger; someone he'd never seen before. Holding Troll closer to his chest, Fred simply nodded curtly at his brother, and piveted towards his bedroom. Turning back for only a second, Fred looked George square in the eye.

"I never thought the day would come where my own brother would stab me in the back," said Fred, closing his bedroom door behind him and leaving his twin to stare on after him.

"That day came three months ago, mate," George mumbled to himself. "Now I'm just pouring salt in the wound."

--

A/N: Hello, loves! No, I'm not dead! I'm still here, and I'm still writing. I've been super busy with school, and I've had no time for pleasure writing between my three bloody research papers. Ugh. Anyways, this chapter is extremely short in comparison to the others. I'm very sorry for that. It won't happen again! You'll be pleased to know I've already started the next chapter, and I'm hoping to have it completed and posted by Sunday. It maybe a lot sooner, it just depends on my homework load this week. I'm sorry for the lack of Briney (again) but I'm trying to keep her on the down low for awhile because of the fact that once I do write a full scene with her there is no turning back. By that I mean- once she's back in full force then a lot of the mystery and all that jazz of what is going on behind closed doors is gone.

PS: I just want to thank all of you for the absolutely wonderful reviews and kind words to me. I appreciate it so much. You have no idea. I was so upset those jerk offs said that to me that I just went into total writer's block mode. You lot brought me out of it, and I thank you for that. I love you all so very much!

PSS: Who do you think the person at the door/the person who saved Briney is? And where do you think she is? (I hope they're not too obvious.)

Coming VERY soon: George is fed up. Fred finds a -hoot- of a clue. We learn Briney's savior's identity. We see what's happened to Ivana and Antonin. Draco gets determined. The kids return to Hogwarts with trouble brewing in the near future.

Review, please!