CHAPTER 11: A Turn for the Worse
After the incident with Ron, Hermione has changed a lot. She started to blame herself for everything, and became very jumpy. I talked to her about it, but she just yelled at me and told me that I don't understand. This became the last straw for me.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND! Just try half-killing your own brother and almost being disowned by your own family! Now you think I DON'T UNDERSTAND? I've stood up for you through all these, and now I don't understand?" And before I can say something worse, I grabbed my broom and zoom away. She can't follow that way, she's terrified of brooms.
I catch one last fleeting glimpse of her, running like a child, arms outstretched, and eyes flowing with guilt.
I decided not to return to the small house we share that night. I perched my broom high above Diagon Alley, and let myself think properly for the first time. At first I thought that I was really impulsive and vented out wrongly at her. But a part of my brain tells me that it serves her right, and it won't hurt to teach her that the world doesn't revolve around her.
As I thought of Hermione, a small post-owl fluttered by. It dropped a single note on my lap and took off. This surprised me. As long as I remember, everyone hated me enough to send me a letter. Nevertheless, I rip the letter open. The note was short, and was written in the neat, loopy handwriting that I never knew so well.
"Come back Fred. Let's talk this out. You're all I've got now. I love you…"
The note needs not to have the sender's name on it. Part of me sends me running back to her, yet the stubborn part of me stays rooted where I was sitting. Then I've decided that I'm not going home soon. I start flying down, in a quest to find a bed for the night.