Disclaimer: I am not still JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing.
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AN: Here you go! A special third-time-in-one-week-update because you're all awesome and tomorrow's my birthday! Yay! Happy Reading! (In hindsight that was a lot of exclamation points... O.o)
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Chapter 11: Chances
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It seems like I've barely shut my eyes when suddenly I'm being lightly shaken awake, but when I open my eyes it's dark and the credits are rolling.
"What?" I croak as I lift my head from… I do a double take and then glance up at Fred's face to see him looking down at me with a carefully blank expression. I feel heat rise in my cheeks as I shift away from him so that I'm no longer leaning against him practically in his lap. Questions flash through my mind.
How long was I on him like that?
Why didn't he make me move?
Did I drool?!
Unfortunately I have no answers except to the last one. I discretely wipe at my chin and feel that it's dry. At least that's one less embarrassment to worry about.
"Have a nice nap?" George asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I glare at him for his enjoyment of my humiliation.
"I feel like I could sleep for another ten years and still not have gotten enough sleep," I say through a yawn. "The nightmare," I say to Sam's questioning glance. She nods and goes back to rewinding the video.
"They wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't gone back to that bloody grave the other day," I complain. I can't stop the shudder that creeps down my back ripples across my frame at the memory of Sally's soulless eyes staring up at me filled with pain; her blood soaking into my clothes and staining my hands. I physically shake the memory from my head and unconsciously scrub my hands against my jeans. I climb to my feet and stretch.
"I'm going home," I announce to the room at large. "This was actually kinda fun. We should do it again."
Sam rewards my words with a brilliant smile that only gets bigger when everyone chimes in in agreement. Everyone except Fred that is. He's looking at me with that unreadable expression that I don't have the energy to try and decipher. I look away. George whispers something in Angie's ear. She looks at him and then me and then back at him and nods. He beams and kisses her full on the mouth.
"I'll accompany you home Cor," he says, getting to his feet. I eye him suspiciously.
"Why?" I question. He rolls his eyes.
"I'm not going to force myself upon you or anything. I'm just going to make sure you make it okay. You're dead on your feet," he says. I purse my lips.
"I can make it through the floo by myself," I tell him.
"I know," he says in exasperation. "I'm just going to follow and then floo home from there." He raises his eyebrows expectantly and I finally cotton on that he wants to talk to me privately.
"Oh!" I say. George gives me a look like I'm being utterly transparent.
"You're impossible," he says. I grin.
"Well that's my motto, you know," I tell him. "Why be difficult when with a little effort you can be impossible."
"Really?" he asks curiously.
"No," I say giving him a look to tell him I think he's dumber than a dead goldfish. "Normal people don't actually have mottos."
"Oh. Well, we do," George says gesturing to Fred. I raise my eyebrows.
"Let's hear it then."
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," they chant in unison. I'm silent for a moment as I look uncertainly between the pair of them.
"You know you really shouldn't do that in public. It's creepy," I tell them. George throws back his head and laughs and to my astonishment, so does Fred. I stare at him for and moment and then shake my head.
"I need to get to bed. I'm becoming delusional," I mutter. George snickers.
"Bye everyone! Nice to meet you Ava. See you Sam," I call and then toss a dash of floo powder into the fireplace, say my parents' address, and disappear in whirl of warm green flames. I arrive in my parents' sitting room and collapse onto the sofa to wait for George. I don't have to wait long before he's stepping out of the fireplace and plopping down beside me.
"So what is this all about?" I ask, allowing my head to loll back on the cushion as I look over at him. Now that I'm sitting I'm struggling to stay awake once more.
"I want you to give Fred a chance."
My head pops up off the cushion to stare at him.
"Don't give me that look," he chastises me. "Neither of you has given the other a real chance since the start of all this. I think it's time you both stopped attacking the other at every opportunity and tried getting to know each other. I think you've made some real progress today, but I can't risk you falling into old habits come the light of day."
"What do you mean progress?" I ask. He eyes me for a minute and then sighs.
"Well Fred has made some progress anyway," he amends, ignoring my question. "You're still being as stubborn as an old goat."
"Hey!" I complain.
"So could you just promise to try and get along with Fred? Please? For me?" George begs. I glare at him and then look away from his pleading face. Damn him. "All I'm asking is that you don't pick fights with him all the time and if he tries something don't rise to the bait. Please?"
I sigh heavily and turn back towards him, my face the very essence of defeat.
"Fine," I agree reluctantly.
"Yes! Thank you!" George cheers.
"You're lucky you caught me at a weak moment," I say, poking my finger into his bicep. George ignores me and stands up to place a dramatic, wet, sloppy kiss to my forehead.
"MUAH!" he says as he does it.
"Gross!" I complain as I wipe his slobber from my face.
"Oh you know you liked it!" George teases with an exaggerated wink. I give him a no nonsense look.
"You behave or I'll tell Angie you kissed me," I warn. George chuckles at the empty threat and then sobers quickly.
"You're really going to try right?" he asks. "You'll be serious about it." I roll my eyes.
"I promised didn't I?" I say through a yawn. George shoots an unamused look in my direction.
"Seriously," he insists. I sigh and get to my feet.
"George one thing about me is that I never go back on a promise I make to a friend. It's a Hufflepuff thing. You'll figure it out," I tell him. George grins looking relieved. "Now get out of my house. I need sleep."
"Yes ma'am!" he chants, snapping off a quick salute. Then he winks and returns to the fireplace and a few moments later he's gone.
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|11|~*~|11|
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When I agreed to give Fred a chance I knew it would be hard. I just didn't think it would be this hard. I swear Fred has become even more insufferable since I stopped fighting back. Every time he opens his mouth it makes me want to punch him. But I promised George, so here I am biting my tongue until it bleeds. Literally.
"I think this pattern would suit you and Fred," Mrs. Weasley says, holding the infernal binder out to me and Fred. She has stowed clippings of every possible thing under the sun that you could ever think to micromanage in a wedding in that damned thing. I glance briefly at the magazine cut out of a floral arrangement and sigh for the billionth time today.
"Mrs. Weasley it looks fine," I tell her wearily from my place across from her and to the left of Fred at her kitchen table. "I don't think either of us cares much for the details," I say for the thousandth time.
"I care!" Fred refutes for the thousandth time as well. I don't even look at him for fear of what will escape from between my lips. He's been like this ever since Mrs. Weasley dragged out that loathsome binder. Every. Possible. Thing. He can disagree with me on he does, even though I can tell that he doesn't care anymore for these nitpicky details than I do. He's driving me mad. It's like he wants me to argue with him.
Mrs. Weasley beams at her son and tugs out the floral picture and sets in in our ever growing pile of cutouts for our wedding. It's four weeks away and Mrs. Weasley has been going crazy. I swallow a groan and instead idly leaf through our pile of cutouts.
There're pictures of flowers, napkins, silverware, vases, general decorations, lights, table settings, bouquets, boutonnieres, favors, aisle runners, flower baskets, ring pillows, and center pieces. There's even a magical guestbook that automatically records the names of the guests as they arrive. I frown at the sheer amount of useless things that she thinks we need for our wedding. This doesn't even include a photographer, DJ, or FOOD; the important things. In my opinion at least.
"Mrs. Weasley this is going to cost a lot of money," I voice my concerns. She immediately flushes and looks down while Fred stares open mouthed at me.
"Oh my God, no," I immediately realize my mistake and quickly jump to correct it. "That's not what I- I just meant that we never had a lot of money growing up so I've learned to always be very money conscious. I was just saying that there's a lot of stuff here that we don't really need. Sure it's fun to look at, but in the long run it'd be better if we spent our money on other things, wouldn't it? I've just always been a bit of a thrifty shopper I guess."
Mrs. Weasley frowns and leafs through the clippings much the same way I did.
"I suppose you're right dear," she says looking disappointed. "We'd better just scrap these and start over."
"No, no, no," I stop her. "It's alright. Let's just pick out the things we don't really need." I just really can't stand seeing her so torn up over this.
"The flowers are good. All weddings need flowers," I say and set them aside into a new pile. "We probably don't need the favors. We can just get some cellophane and twist ties and wrap up some goodies. Maybe add a little tag with the date on it. And that'll be a pinch to do with magic. The guest book is cool. We can put that on the bottom of the pile as something we can get if we have money left over. Or maybe someone can donate it as a gift."
Mrs. Weasley nods eagerly and seems to really get into what I'm doing.
"We'll need the bouquets and boutonnieres," she chimes in, adding them to the new pile. "I suppose the center pieces are a bit much though aren't they?" I grin, glad to see that she's listening.
"A bit," I agree. "But we can hang onto that photo and use it as a guide. We can hit up some thrift and second hand stores and see what we can pull together that looks similar."
Mrs. Weasley beams at the idea and happily adds the photo to the new pile as well. She looks up at me with a blissful smile and I swear her eyes are starting to water.
"Oh go on you two," she says after a moment. "I've seen you staring longingly out the window all morning. Go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts."
I blink at her for a moment and then beam at her.
"Who am I to argue with the lady of the house," I say as Fred and I both clamber out of our seats.
"You're the best mum," Fred says. Mrs. Weasley gets to her feet as well and pulls me into a motherly hug.
"We are so blessed to have you joining our family. No matter the circumstances," she tells me. I feel my face heat up and I pat her shoulder a bit, unsure of what to say.
"You be good to her Fred," she warns after she releases me. He nods in a surprised kind of way and then we both bolt out the door before she can change her mind. We leave her sniffling happily and humming to herself as she continues to sort through her cutouts. As soon as the door shuts behind us I take off running for the field where I can see the others playing Quidditch.
George obviously sees us coming and flies to the ground to greet us. As soon as I reach him I grab him in an out of character hug without slowing down.
"Oof," he grunts when I knock at the air out of him. He staggers back a step, but otherwise maintains his balance.
"I'm finally free!" I exclaim and release him from my clutches. He shakes his head in amusement. "I swear all of this wedding talk is slowly devouring my soul."
George laughs.
"I believe we all feel that way," he says. "But how did you guys get out of there so quickly? Angie and me were stuck in there until after lunch!" he complains addressing me and Fred who has come up behind me.
"Yeah!" Ron agrees, flying down to land beside us closely followed by the rest of the family excluding Hermione and Percy. "Me and Hermione were stuck in there for ages!" I shrug innocently.
"I honestly have no idea. She just went all misty eyed and then turned us loose," I tell them. Fred scoffs.
"That's not true," he disagrees. I clench my jaw and refuse to turn and look at him. "Cora here flattered mum to the point that poor mum was so love struck she couldn't hold her prisoner any longer. I was released by default."
I roll my eyes, but hold in my argument even though I did no such thing.
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|11|~*~*|11|
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Day 4 of my promise to George isn't going any better than the last three. Mrs. Weasley has been dragging me, Fred, George, and Angelina all over Diagon Alley and muggle London today in search of wedding things. I'm absolutely knackered and would love nothing better to go home and collapse in my bed and never move again, but no. I'm stuck here trying not to rip into Fred Weasley while he argues with me about the color of my dress of all things.
"Please try and be reasonable Fred," I say through gritted teeth as pleasantly as I can while sending ferocious looks in George's direction as he and Angelina pleasantly browse the racks of dresses, completely oblivious to my pain. "There is no way I am going to have anyone pay to special order a plaid wedding dress."
"Why not?" Fred demands. "It's always been my dream to have a plaid themed wedding and it just won't be complete if the bride isn't participating. You've already said you don't care what you wear, so why are you arguing with me on this?"
Because it's an outrageous request and will cost a small fortune! I rage at him in my head. I grind my teeth one more time and then release my breath and my anger all at once and smile.
"Alright fine," I agree suddenly. Fred looks totally floored by my abrupt change in tune.
"What?" he asks. "Fine? Really?" I shrug and nod.
"Yeah," I say in an easy tone. "It's like you said, I don't care what I wear and you clearly do. The only real problem is the frivolous spending and there's simple solution for that really."
"There is?" he asks.
"Yes. You pay for the dress," I respond matter-of-factly. I conceal my inner smirk of satisfaction; sure that I've finally had him out of his charade. There's no way he's actually serious about this and that means that there's no way he'll be willing to drop that kind of money on it. I watch his face carefully for a minute as he puzzles this out and try valiantly to hide my smirk until victory is well and truly mine.
"Okay," he finally agrees. My jaw drops in complete astonishment. No. Way. He's serious about this! And he's going to have me looking like a fool at my own wedding. That is not happening. I set my jaw and prepare to out stubborn him. My specialty.
"Well good," I say. "Now that that's settled, we need to decide what you're wearing. I've always had a thing about marrying a man wearing ducks."
"Ducks?" Fred asks nonplussed.
"Yeah ducks," I insist. "You know like a print of little rubber ducks all over his dress robes. Neon orange ducks. On a purple robe. It's just what I've always imagined."
Fred stares at me for a minute.
"Well what about money? I thought you didn't want anyone spending that kind of cash on anything?" he asks. I shrug a bit.
"Well it's worth it for your dream to become reality, right?" I say. "You know what I'm talking about with the whole plaid thing. And I'll pay for your robes out of my savings to be fair." My savings. The money that I've been saving for years so that I can have enough to drop on a down payment and first few months' rent for a flat for myself when I get the chance. I'm going to spend it all on rubber ducky printed robes to prove a point and settle a score.
Fred shrugs a bit.
"Alright. Yeah I guess I do," he says looking dazed. I stare at him for a moment and then just have to walk away. I have no idea what just happened, but I'm pretty sure our wedding photos will make the front page of the Quibbler.
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|11|~*~|11|
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I am going to kill Fred Weasley. Apparently trying to get me to fight with him by contradicting me all the time wasn't enough. He's stepped up his game and today he pranked me. Ha ha. Yeah keep laughing, but you weren't the one stuck spouting out the most ridiculous sayings all night while meeting your brother's future in-laws. I don't know how he did it, but right now I really don't care, because I'm going to kill him.
I stomp into the Parkees's backyard now that dinner is finally over and disapparate while the rest of my family uses the floo. Why didn't I floo as well, you ask? Well because, "It's difficult to choose between two blind goats," doesn't translate well into, "93 Diagon Alley". And yes, I'm going to the twins' flat to give them a piece of my mind. I've held my tongue long enough. George can't possibly expect me to just let this go.
I appear in Diagon Alley outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a loud crack. Then, just in case the sound of my apparation didn't alert them, I summon a Patronus to tell them to come let me in (George finally taught me how). Thankfully the spell only requires me to focus and think the message I want to send, so I don't have to try and say it out loud. My German Sheppard bursts from my wand and to my surprise goes straight through the front door rather than up to the flat's window like I'd expected.
A moment later the doors open and I see Fred, George, and my Patronus standing on the other side. The glowing silver dog trots over to me and plops down on his behind panting proudly at a job well done. I give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears and he dissolves into a fine silver mist. I then turn my attention to the grinning boys in the doorway.
"Cora darling what brings you here so… unexpectedly?" George asks with a shit eating grin.
"Can't get enough of us I suppose," Fred continues, the mirror image of his twin.
I bare my teeth at the two of them and then shoulder past them and lead the way to their flat, smoldering in frustration. Obviously they are well aware of why I'm here and have been completely expecting me.
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