Chapter Seven.

Yoo! Well, I'm not going to be a desperate author looking for reviews anymore! Ha! So, review if you want to make my day, but i'm not going to make you feel guilty anymore. Anyways, here's the seventh chapter- and I'm working on something else that I want to get posted soon. However, school is a bitch, and though I despise it- I have to go. It'll take up most of my time, as will my social life, so I have no clue when the new story will be up. Truth be told, I haven't even written a sentence, it's just a plot line right now.

Enjoy! R&R!

Dinner went by quickly and the rest of the night was spent chatting with each other in the sitting room. Ron had nearly gotten pummeled by Ginny when he mentioned the game and how easily they had won. It was amusing and everybody seemed to be getting along nicely, healing nicely. Farren sat on the love seat, George sitting in front of it, his head pressing against her legs. She could've sworn that George had been visited as well, for his new outlook on life was sudden, but she wasn't even sure if she had been visited.

She thought about the dream, it was definetly a real feeling. The way he looked, to the exact 'T', the way he smiled- his eyes.. everything was perfect. The way his arms slid around her, the way his voice sounded, the was he kissed her. She swallowed hard, if only she could see him again, if only it wasn't her brain thinking about him.

She looked across at Harry, who didn't seem interested in anything but Ginny. The conversation had felt real too, she felt Harry's pain.

"Thinking for once, Westen?"

Glancing down at curious eyes, she gently kicked George in the head, "Watch it, Weasley."

George did nothing but smile at me, and for a minute, I thought I saw a knowing look in his eyes. It quickly disappeared and he turned back to the group, telling Ginny to stuff it and come to terms with the fact that she lost.

It was a great night, none of them had laughed so hard in ages. One by one each of them went up to bed, George was the last, but Farren stayed behind. She didn't want to believe that it was a dream, she couldn't handle it if it was. The idea of being with a fake Fred, an impostor, a figure of her imagination tore at her mind. Sure, she'd love any excuse to see him, to touch him, to watch him smile, but if it was her going mad- she'd rather it didn't happen again.

She placed her face directly into her palms. Her whole entire body was feeling heavier, like she was sinking into the cushions. Her eyes didn't want to cry anymore, they weren't watering at all, yet they stung like she'd been bawling for hours. She kept her head in her hands, unable to see the flash of pink light that boucned throughout the room.

"Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep?"

Farren shot up at the sudden voice, nearly injuring herself. Her green eyes found the person immediately and it was all she had hoped for. Fred was lazily leaned against the door frame, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his goofy smile on his white face. His inner and outer beauty were more than enough to, once again, in her mind, make her believe that he was real.

Her bottom lip shook, "Oh-Oh, Fred!"

Her deceased boyfriend was at her side in an instant, holding her close to his chest while she shook and as the tears caught up with her. He could feel the droplets falling onto his arm and his heart ached for her. He had thought he felt his heart break completely already. Looking over his family who were in so much pain because of him made him hurt- no, throb! For some reason, though, as his fingers grazed over her spine, he felt utterly lost.

Fred leaned down, inhaling the addicting apple scent that he loved, and placed a gentle kiss on her head.

"I know you're questioning it," he whispered, placing his chin on the top of her head, "I'm not a dream, love, I'm here."

Her hands tightened around him, "How can I be sure?"

He smiled lightly and let out a heavy breath, "I wouldn't lie to you, would I?"

Farren didn't have an answer for that. She knew that Fred, her boyfriend, was a goofy, insane boy who did nothing but lie- but he was right, he had never lied to her. What if he was a dream? A figure of her imagination could surely lie to her, persuade her into thinking that he wasn't just a creation of great depression, he was real. She never found the courage to voice her thoughts, she didn't want to hurt him.

Farren leaned upwards and placed a soft kiss on Fred's jaw, "I-I love you, Fred."

He looked at her delicate eyes, her soft lips, her beautiful face, "I love you too."

She pulled herself up, sending him cascading backwards onto the couch. Then, she was on top of him, her entire body lying on top of his and she was kissing him. Her mouth was everywhere and he was eagerly replying. The shock had worn off, his hands were gently cupping her face, and she was moving way too quickly. He didn't mind, of course, he craved this from her- but he knew that she would regret it later. Sex with a ghost? He didn't want her sinking into a deeper, even more painful depression.

She was kissing his jaw, her hands on his chest, when he began to resist. He was mentally kicking himself, knowing he was stupid to pass up the opportunity to be with his extremely hot girlfriend, but he knew that it was good for her. Why did everything have to come down to less action for him? He groaned and pushed her off, sitting up on the couch and bringing a hand through his messy hair.

"What?" Farren asked, blinking her doe eyes at him.

Fred had to look away, he'd jump her if he didn't, "Farren, I'm dead! You can't shag a dead bloke!"

Farren's eye drifted to her lap, she'd figured as much. The guy loved her, she knew that, and that was enough of a reason for him to look out of her in way he'd never done for anybody else. Just because he was a noble, very kind man, didn't mean it made her any less humiliated.

"Hey, don't look like that," suddenly, his hand was tilting her face up to look at him.

Farren's eyes refused to meet his, "Did you send Harry down here last night?"

Fred, who was thrown off by the question, managed to snort, "We almost had sex and you're thinking about Harry?"

Farren's beautiful green orbs fluttered up, looking him in the eyes, he forgot was he had found so humorous. She had that affect on him, and to this day he was puzzled on how. Without a word, without an explanation, Fred nodded.

She leaned back onto the couch, shoulder to shoulder with him, "Why?"

"I was tired of listening to him whine," he said bluntly, "He was depressing me, really."

Farren stole a glance at the red head, he seemed lost in thought, "Did you visit George? He was oddly up-beat at breakfast."

Fred's lips tugged upwards at the mention of his twin, yet his eyes filled with sadness. He didn't answer, he couldn't, everything was caught in his chest. His brother was his other half, the only person in the entire world who knew everything and anything about him. George wasn't doing well, and he knew this, he couldn't watch it anymore. The thought of never doing the usual things with his twin brother broke his heart, just like it broke George's, he didn't want to think about it.

Farren's hand was on his, "Hey, it's okay."

Fred stared forwards and nodded, "I did. He was... he needed me. He, however, thinks it was a dream- so don't mention it."

"I promise."

Fred sighed and flipped his palm over, watching Farren's hand fit perfectly into his. There was silence, but it was comfortable. Both people's eyes were focused on their in twined hands.

"If I tell you something," Farren whispered, "Will you keep it a secret?"

Fred laughed, "Who am I going to tell, Farren?"