Much to my surprise, my night with Noah was mostly all I could think about for the next few days. I spent my time at work replaying it in my head, thinking of dinner, the Ferris wheel, the almost kiss, and talking to him about how miserable I'd been at school. And the fact that he was still nice to me afterwards. He still liked me. He didn't press me for more information for the rest of the night. He just showed me around London, talking about his own memories he'd had there as a kid and making me laugh with a few jokes sprinkled in here and there.
The night actually made me forget about everything else completely. The diary, the mystery woman, the necklace…it was all wiped from my mind and instead all I could think about was how I was finally beginning to feel like a normal girl with normal experiences.
I was jolted out of my thoughts the following Friday night by Noah appearing at my side as I cleaned a table and lightly bumping my hip with his own.
"Missed a spot," he teased, setting his bin of dirty dishes on the table next to me before collapsing into the booth and putting his feet up on the seat beside him. It was almost twelve thirty and not many people were left in the pub. We were minutes away from closing and I couldn't wait to get off my feet, but at the same time, I found myself not wanting the night to end. It meant less time spent with Noah—or at least less time gazing across the room at him as we both worked, too busy to actually talk to one another.
I smiled as I glanced over at him and continued scrubbing the tabletop in front of me. "Sitting down on the job?" I asked.
"I'm tired," he said.
"You weren't so tired when you were showing me around nearly all of London," I pointed out, finishing off my table and tossing my rag down. I turned and sent Noah a look, putting my hands on my hips.
He smirked at me, his dark brown eyes twinkling as he did so. "That's a little different," he said. "That was fun. This is work. In fact, I wish I was showing you around London again right now."
"It was fun," I agreed with a smile.
"Wow, you actually had fun?" Noah teased, pushing himself out of the booth and gently poking my arm. "You had fun? I can hardly believe it." He poked me again and I laughed.
"I'm capable of having fun," I giggled. "I'm just not used to it."
"I'm aware," he said. "Glad I could help you on that front." He actually took a deep bow and I laughed again and rolled my eyes. "Stop, Noah, don't…."
"Am I embarrassing you?" he asked.
"Mhm," I nodded.
Noah opened his mouth to say something else, undoubtedly some other joke or something about how he didn't care about drawing attention to us, but he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat from behind me.
"Sophie, can I talk to you for a moment?"
I turned to see Fred standing behind me, George at his side. The rest of the pub had actually cleared out while I'd been talking to Noah. I hadn't even noticed.
"Um, sure," I said, feeling suddenly almost dazed. I was so used to being alert to nearly everything and now I hadn't even heard the twins come up behind me and I hadn't even noticed the pub empty out because I'd been so focused on my interaction with Noah. It felt strange and I wasn't sure if I liked it. Surely it couldn't be a good thing. Could I afford to be caught so off guard like that?
Noah looked from me to Fred and I nodded at him slightly. "I'll close up, it's fine," I said. "You can take off."
"Are you sure?" he asked slowly, his eyes moving from me to the twins again.
"Positive. Go ahead."
Noah nodded before grabbing his bin of dishes and heading back to the kitchen. I turned back to the twins to see Fred staring at Noah's retreating back.
"Bit possessive over something that isn't his, isn't he?" he commented, turning back to me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Noah? Possessive? Just now? Hardly," I scoffed. "He just wanted to make sure I was okay with closing up on my own."
"Come on, Soph, don't be naïve," Fred snorted.
"What?" My eyebrows shot up and I was instantly back on guard, my muscles tensing and my posture straightening as I stared back at Fred. I wanted to cringe at his tone—the degrading kind used for talking down to someone else and making them feel irrelevant. It made my heart rate quicken and my stomach tighten unpleasantly, despite being put instantly on alert.
"He didn't want to leave you alone with us because he likes you and he's threatened," Fred said. "I overheard that you went out with him? He showed you around London?"
"Yes, he did," I answered. "Is that okay with you or are you feeling threatened as well? That would be pretty interesting, considering I'm not yours either, isn't that right?"
The second the defensive words were out of my mouth, I looked down and took a step backwards, shying away from Fred. I'd crossed a line for sure. I must have and now he was going to get angry.
"No," he finally said bitterly. "I've only been waiting to talk to you all night because I wanted to tell you that Bill gave us this back." He pulled the necklace out of his pocket and leaned over to firmly place it on the table behind me. "It's curse free. You can have it back. Maybe you can wear it when you're on your next date with Noah. Maybe it'll help you to not forget about us."
"I didn't forget about you," I protested in a whisper.
"Sure," Fred said. "I thought you seemed like you were in a daze tonight. You never even looked our way. And now I know why. You were on cloud nine, thinking about being with Noah."
"He's a nice guy, Fred," I whispered. "He's patient, he doesn't pressure me for information about my life."
"And we have?" Fred asked, gesturing between himself and George.
"No, of course not," I said. "But—"
"How much have you told him?" Fred asked.
"Not as much as I've told you."
Fred scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I've got to get out of here," he said quietly before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
"Fred, wait," I said, but George cut me off.
"Stay, finish closing up," he said gently, holding out a hand to stop me from heading after Fred. "I'll go after him. I can handle this."
"But—"
"Don't worry about it," he said, giving me a tight, brief smile. "Finish up here."
And then he was gone, disappearing into Diagon Alley after his brother.
I hurried through the rest of my closing duties, then scrawled a hurried note to Tom and Martha in case they somehow discovered my disappearance during the night. And then I rushed into Diagon Alley, taking it at a run to the twins' shop.
Most of my life, I'd run away from confrontation. I'd done my best to lay low, avoid any kind of mean or anger fueled gesture, and eventually avoid people in general. But in the events when I did come across those things, I'd simply just take it. It had become part of my nature, the older and more exhausted I got. And whenever I'd tried standing up for myself, it only made things worse, so I'd given up. It wasn't until recently that I'd found the courage to run away completely and it had been one of the hardest, most terrifying experiences of my life. I'd never wanted to run to someone who was angry or upset. I normally would run away. But I was left confused and hurt by Fred's anger and I didn't want to brush this under the rug. I didn't want to avoid this. I wanted to make it better. For the first time in my life, I wanted to confront the anger instead of ignoring it and accepting it as deserved, too tired physically and emotionally to fight back.
When I finally reached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I rapped against the door anxiously, knowing that somewhere upstairs, those windchimes were going off and one of the twins would—hopefully—look out the window and see me and—again, hopefully—let me inside.
It was almost a full minute before I saw movement within the shop and then finally George appeared behind the glass of the front door. He opened it and peered out at me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked wearily.
"What do you think I'm doing here?" I asked. "I couldn't leave things the way they were. I felt—I felt as if I was being accused of things that weren't..."
"True?" George asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, no, not exactly." I sighed and raked a hand through my hair, stopping when I got to the back and closing a fistful of it in my hand. "I felt that Fred's anger wasn't justified. I don't understand what happened and I want to fix it."
"Fred's not in the mood to fix anything," George said. "In fact, quite the opposite."
"What do you—oh no," I breathed, my shoulders deflating as I gave George a wide-eyed look. And then in quite an uncharacteristic move on my part, I slipped past him and ran for the back stairs that led to the flat.
"Sophie, no! Do not go up there!" George called from behind me.
I heard his rapid footsteps chasing after me, but I ignored both them and his cries as I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to the flat.
And only then did I stop in my tracks. George finally caught up to me and I felt him behind me, panting slightly as we both surveyed the scene.
The living room of the flat was a mess. The cushions and pillows from the couch were strewn all over the room, as well as pieces of parchment and quills and even a bottle of ink. And there were three bottles of firewhiskey lying around from what I could see. All empty.
It took me a moment to actually find Fred. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the coffee table and his long legs splayed out in front of him as he drank from another bottle of firewhiskey.
"George," he called out. "I hope you told whoever was at that damn door to bugger the hell off."
I turned and looked at George, my mouth hanging open. "George," I whispered.
"Now you know what it looks like," he whispered back. "But this is tame compared to what he used to look like."
"This is all my fault," I groaned.
"No, Sophie, don't blame yourself," George muttered, looking away and running a hand through his hair. "You didn't do anything. You're right in feeling you're innocent because you are. But Fred's anger—you have to understand. He—"
"Oh, look who decided to show up!" Fred suddenly cried.
I whirled around to see him awkwardly getting to his feet. "Come to tell me some more secrets? Things that no one else knows? Things that you're only going to run and tell Noah?"
"No, Fred, I came to talk to you. I came to fix things. I came to defend myself because I don't think I did anything wrong."
"Oh, please!" Fred cried, flinging his firewhiskey bottle away with a flick of his wrist. It hit the wall and smashed, the remains of the drink splashing everywhere. I gasped, flinched and took two steps back, shying away from the situation as I felt my insides buzzing with nerves and fear. But I forced myself to stay put, swallow thickly and look back at Fred.
"Fred, please," I begged, inching further away as he came closer to me. "Stop."
"I thought you trusted me," he said, his voice low.
"I do!" I protested, flattening myself against the wall.
"I thought I was helping you. I thought I was the one you were coming to about all this stuff going on. I thought-I thought I was the one you were confiding in, but it turns out you've also been running to Noah about your past! Have you told him about the diary as well? And about how you got that necklace?"
"No, Fred, he knows hardly anything."
"But he knows things you haven't told me," he went on.
"Why does it matter?" I asked, blinking at him in confusion. "I don't understand why you're this upset over-"
"Because I liked being the only one you trusted!" he practically roared.
I winced and pressed myself as hard as I could into the wall, wishing it would just swallow me whole.
"I felt special and I felt as if I were actually doing something and being helpful."
"You were just using me, Fred," I whispered. "That's all you were doing. You deny it, but...it is what it is. How can it not be? Why else would you want to help me and why would you care this much? You help me and it takes your mind off of your problems, which is great and all, but..." I took a deep breath as I tried to calm my nerves. My heartbeat was racing and I felt like electricity was running through my blood. My brain was practically running on autopilot. I was speaking without even thinking. "I can't afford to be doing this, Fred. A relationship like that isn't good for me. I need-I need someone who-"
"Someone who isn't fucked up?" Fred hissed. He actually took a step back from me as his shoulders sagged.
"No, Fred, you're not-" I began, stepping towards him and instantly regretting implying to him what I just had. No matter what I'd been thinking, I didn't have any proof and it was all just thoughts running through my mind, a seed watered into growth by talking to Rachel last weekend.
"Don't lie to me and don't touch me," Fred spat, whirling away from me.
I just meant-isn't it like the blind leading the blind? How can we help each other when we can't even help ourselves? I mean, look at you. You're falling apart just because you thought I was confiding in someone else."
"I offered to help you with the diary," Fred muttered, "and I offered to help you find answers about your mother. That's what you want, isn't it? I wouldn't do that for just anyone."
"But I practically am just anyone. I'm some random girl who showed up out of nowhere!" I threw my arms out to the sides and let them flap back against my legs.
"You're a girl that I saw myself in," Fred said. "Tired, exhausted, determined, and trying to move on from difficult events of her past. I thought you of all people would get it. You weren't the talkative type so you wouldn't pressure me to talk. You knew what it was like to not want to forfeit information if you weren't ready. I thought you were the person who would understand everything. But I also liked that you didn't know what I was going through. I liked that you would never have a reason to go easy on me. My own siblings stopped teasing me like they used to. They always knew I could take it, but ever since last year, they're afraid I'd fall into, well, this." He gestured to himself. "Even George was doing it for a bit at first, but I managed to at least get him to knock it off."
George snorted, but didn't say anything.
"I was never using you, Sophie," Fred went on. "I just liked having you around. Even after you found out about Percy, you didn't change how you acted towards me. It was seamless. And even just now...you didn't come over here to see if I was okay. You came over to defend yourself."
"And you liked that?" I asked in confusion.
Fred smiled grimly. "Believe it or not, it was nice having someone not worrying about me for once."
"Fred it's not that I-"
"No, stop. I know," he said, holding up his hand. He sighed. "I'm just so sick of people doing things to purposely not upset me. George is usually the only one who's brutally honest with me, even though it gets on my nerves in the heat of the moment. I know he'll tell me the truth and tell me I need to calm down. But he also knows when to back off and when to step in. Then again, he's also my twin. He knows me better than I know myself." He shrugged. "But it was nice having someone else around that had no previous knowledge of me whatsoever. On the other hand, that can apparently be a negative thing. Because you have no idea that I'd never use you or lie to you about any of this, no matter what you seem to think. I don't know what people have told you about me and what my intentions may or may not be, but they're wrong."
"Okay, fine. Can you answer me one question honestly, then?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?" Fred answered, laughing bitterly and turning back towards me with his arms crossed.
"How much of this is about Percy?" I whispered. "Besides how people are treating you after he died. You said you felt as if you were being helpful. So you couldn't save him and now you feel guilty so you're trying to help me to make up for it? Is that what this is? A project? I just...need to know."
Fred's expression clouded over again. "How dare you," he snarled, lowering his arms and turning towards me. His expression almost made my heart stop. "You asked me this already and I told you that it wasn't a fair question. Why can't you let it drop?"
I bit my lip and looked away. I had dug myself into a hole and now I didn't know how to get myself out of it. I was suddenly remembering why I'd always ran away from confrontations. It was so much easier that way. I'd come all the way here to talk to Fred and it was falling apart in front of my eyes.
"You know what? You're right," I said. "I'm sorry. I just needed to know for myself exactly what you're getting out of talking to me and being my friend. I need to know what's going on in your head. I need to know if this relationship is real or just something your using to help yourself. I need your honesty. Lies aren't going to help me. And behavior like this," I said gesturing around the room, "isn't going to help me. I am just so sick of meaning nothing to people."
And then I turned for the door and started to leave. I hadn't made it five steps, however, before Fred spoke again. "Hang on a second-you can't just leave like that."
"You're not giving me much of a choice," I answered.
Fred lunged for me and grabbed onto my arm, spinning me around to face him. He was towering over me and his expression was clouded with anger. I let out an involuntary shriek as I flinched and wrenched myself away from him. "Don't touch me!" I yelled. "Don't touch me!" And then I backed myself into the wall, looking at Fred in pure terror, my breaths coming in rapid, sharp gasps.
"Merlin, Fred," George said in a low voice as Fred's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He continued to stare at me in complete shock.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered, staring at Fred just as wide eyed as he was staring at me. I was so embarrassed and upset that I buried my head in my hands as tears came to my eyes. I slid down the wall to the floor and sat there, trying to calm myself down by taking one breath after another, holding each one before slowly exhaling. Just like Fred himself had instructed me to do. I heard Fred and George talking in low voices before I heard footsteps leaving the room. I stretched one of my legs out in front of me and kept my face pressed into my other knee for a moment longer, wrapping my arms around my leg and pulling it as close to my body as possible as I took in quiet hiccuping breaths.
When I finally raised my head, my cheeks stained with my tears, I was slightly surprised to see Fred sitting a few feet away, cross legged and holding one of the couch pillows to his chest. He was just staring at me seriously and apologetically, almost like a sad little boy.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, my voice raspy as I rested my elbow on my knee and propped my head against my hand.
"You're sorry?" Fred asked. "I just acted like a complete animal and you're sorry?"
I swallowed and swiped at my nose before resting my head on my hand again.
"George is making tea," Fred said.
"Great," I said dully.
"You were right, you know."
I glanced up at Fred in surprise. "About what?"
Fred lowered the pillow to his lap and began picking at it. He shrugged slightly. "You were right about this having to do with Percy. At least somewhat."
I didn't answer for a second. "Oh," I finally said.
Fred let out a quiet snort of laughter. "Oh," he repeated.
"I didn't want to be right about that, Fred," I said.
"Well, you were," he said. "Maybe a part of me thought that by helping you get answers and get pieces of your life back, it would alleviate all the guilt I felt about being the reason my brother lost his life. I thought it would help me be mentally even with myself so I could stop feeling like utter crap about it. And then all this would go away. And people would stop watching what they say and do around me. I know my mother told everyone not to purposely rile me. Honestly, how is that supposed to make me feel? It's been a year, I want to move on, but it's hard and I feel like people won't let me, even if they aren't doing it intentionally. Even if they think they're helping me."
"It's not your fault, Fred," I said. "I'm sure part of you knows that, but I also know how powerful minds can be. They can manage to be practical, but at the same time have you convinced of something that's not true in the least."
Fred shrugged. "In any case, I'm sorry. For making you feel used. That's not true. You don't mean nothing to me. And I'm also sorry for what I did just now. Grabbing you like that. Scaring you."
I nodded, but didn't say anything.
"I know I said I didn't want help at first," Fred went on, "and I didn't. But then I couldn't help it. Being with you did take my mind off of the crappy aspects of my life I kept dwelling on and it did make me feel like I was making a difference in someone's life. It felt really good getting you to open up to me because I know you don't do it to just anyone. Out of everyone you could have confided in, you confided in me. I thought it meant that I must be doing something right. And then I also liked genuinely being around you the more time we spent together. And just now...you asked me an honest question for the second time since we've met because you wanted an honest answer for yourself, but it made me have to be honest with myself as well. I think I have to do that-be honest with myself-before I can improve."
"I just...needed to know where we stood," I said. "Before any of this went any further. I've told you all this difficult stuff about myself. I've been vulnerable. And it would just come out. You'd tell me something about you and I seemed to always have some way I could connect what you said to my own life."
"When I talked to you about being drunk all the time on purpose," Fred said, "you told me about how girls at school got you drunk and left you alone on the stairs and how scary it was. When I told you about Percy's death, you told me about how hurt you were not knowing where your relationship stood with your family while I did. You didn't tell me it should be any less painful because of that. You didn't tell me to be grateful like I thought you would. Your point was that yes, it's bloody terrible to experience loss, but that I still knew Percy loved me, which is more than some people had."
"People like me," I said, resting my chin on my knee.
Fred nodded solemnly. "You've been through such a hard time, partly because of people like me, and yet...you listen to me. You even said at first that you didn't have time for other people's issues because you couldn't handle your own, and yet...here you are. You opened up to me and didn't judge me for any of the stuff I told you. And you aren't judging me right now. In fact, I'm impressed and grateful that you didn't run out the door screaming tonight. I'm everything you're afraid of and you still didn't run. It's amazing to me because I can't help but feel astounded and confused that you aren't running but...Angelina did."
I looked up at him and studied him, processing what he just said. "I haven't forgotten how you and George defended me to those guys at the pub back in May," I said. "That set you apart. When you hit me with the door at the Three Broomsticks, you took care of me. And then when I had that panic attack, you came out and calmed me down. You knew just what to do. And then not too long ago, you told me that if anyone was after me, they'd have to go through you first. You told me you were protective of your friends. I think I somehow knew that if I was going to get myself into trouble, you and George were the right two people to go to. You'd know just how to help me. You wouldn't laugh or tell me I was crazy or tell me to get rid of that diary or the necklace. You'd react just how I needed you to react."
Fred smiled slightly, his eyes roaming over my face. "Despite the pranks and the alcohol."
"You have been nice to me," I said. "You've teased me a bit, but you've never seriously played a joke on me. I know that. I'm just...afraid. And I know you're working on the alcohol thing. It's not exactly your fault."
"Don't make excuses for me," Fred said. "It is my fault and it has been my choice for the past year. But I want to fix it."
"Exactly," I said with a smile. I let out a slow puff of air and looked at the ceiling. "It's just so hard for me to feel assured that things aren't going to end, that people aren't going to leave and that people genuinely like me. There's part of me that still thinks that it's all a joke or that it's not genuine."
"What-or who-gave you all these crazy ideas about why I like spending time with you anyway?" Fred asked. "Or were they your own thoughts that were...I don't know, recently fueled by something someone else said?"
I hesitated, a little bit amazed that he'd pretty much nailed what had happened. I also didn't want to get Rachel in any trouble by saying something, but I did feel like I owed Fred an honest answer. However, he seemed to take my hesitation as confirmation of an answer he already knew.
"Rachel, huh?" he asked.
I nodded slowly.
"Damnit," Fred muttered, sighing deeply and running his hands through his hair.
"Sorry," I responded.
"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. I can understand why you'd take what she said and let it make you worry. You're someone who-"
"Who's fucked up?" I whispered, using Fred's own words to describe myself this time, as I stared over Fred's head at the wall across the room.
Fred inhaled slowly through his nose before exhaling. "I was going to say you're someone who clearly hasn't had many people prove themselves to you over the years."
I swallowed and stretched my other leg out in front of me, flexing my feet and staring aimlessly at them. "My mother and father both left me," I said. "You know that story. I went into foster care where no one ever wanted to keep me, even if they were fairly kind to me. You know all those details too. One of the things I told Noah was that I asked for ice skates in my first foster home, but they couldn't afford them, so they gave me a postcard of an ice rink instead. I loved that thing at first. It reminded me of going ice skating with my mom and it reminded me of all the good times I spent with her. But then over the years I just grew more and more miserable and more and more bitter. I used to want to go into photography so that I could take pictures that would bring people some kind of happiness, peace, joy, whatever. I wanted to be able to freeze moments in time with one click of a button. But sometimes when moments are frozen, even if they're good ones, it just makes you realize that you can't ever get them back."
"Well, the memories themselves are still good," Fred said. "And I'd like to think that counts for something, but I know what you mean. It's still hard for me to think about memories of Percy. It was hard on everyone for a while, but it got easier for them faster than it did for me. Mum and Dad could look at old photos before I could. They started slowly talking about him more without crying, or in my case, flipping out. Things are still a bit odd, but they're better. And I know Ginny's right. We can't forget he existed. That would be an insult to him. We have to hold on to those memories or else he'll truly be gone in every sense of the word. Didn't you essentially tel me the same thing at one point? That night out in the back alley after you'd first come over to the Burrow?"
I actually found myself smiling slightly. "I did and you have a point."
"Of course I do," he said with a grin. "I'm not a complete imbecile."
I let out another sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "So...then in school I was teased constantly. I told you about that group of girls that got me drunk. They were the ringleaders and everyone followed what they did. Most people avoided me for at least one of two reasons: either because those girls did and they were afraid or wanted to be like them. And the other reason was because they found me odd all on their own. I kept to myself, was painfully shy, very focused on schoolwork. And I didn't know how to make friends either. I was horrible at it. If someone did try to talk to me, I eventually chased them away by being pretty unresponsive."
"You don't seem painfully shy or unresponsive now," Fred said.
I shrugged. "I don't think I was like that as a kid either."
Fred thought about that for a minute. "Is it safe to guess that your most recent foster home had something to do with that?"
I nodded. "It was probably the icing on the cake," I said. "I was already worn down by being moved from home to home so often and the last foster home I was in just...drained me even more." I swallowed again. "Anyway, when I first started school, I wasn't used to seeing that much food. And it was well-made too. It had been such a long time since I'd seen food like that due to either money issues or just lack of caring about exactly what we were eating at home. I wasn't necessarily starving, but I wasn't given food like I saw at school, that was for sure. I wasn't used to just being able to have as much as I wanted. So I went a little crazy. And people teased me." I reached up and pushed the tip of my nose upwards, making a snort sound as I did so.
Fred closed his eyes and turned away. "Soph..."
"I got all my clothes magically turned pink once. As well as my hair," I went on. "By that same group of girls. As I said, they did most of the teasing, but nobody ever really jumped in. Except one girl. She became my only friend at school. In fact, remember I told you about that one professor I was close with? It was her daughter." I swallowed. "And then...they died. Both of them." I swallowed. "It was a hit and run car accident. They lived in Salem, too, actually and one day they were walking down the street, and a car just...hit them. And the person driving was gone by the time anyone from law enforcement could get there. They were never caught. It's been six and a half years."
"Was there any kind of investigation?" Fred asked as George suddenly came back into the room, levitating three mugs of tea in front of him. Fred and I reached out and each took one, smiling at George in thanks as he sat down in the space to my left, the three of us forming a triangle.
"Sure," I said. "But no one was ever caught. The car that hit them even ended up being stolen so there really were no leads."
"What the hell did I miss?" George asked in alarm. "Stolen cars? People getting hit by stolen cars?" He raised an eyebrow.
I sighed and let out a breath of bitter laughter as I stared down into my tea.
"Sophie was just telling me how close she was to one of her professors at school," Fred said, "and the professor's daughter, who was also her classmate. They stuck up for her when other people weren't very nice. And then someone hit them with a car."
George was silent. "No wonder you ran away from home," he finally said and I snorted. "So let me get this straight," he went on. "You lived with your mother and things were fine and happy until she one day dragged you out of the house in the middle of the night, saying you had to leave, but not telling you why. And then she left you in the museum she used to work at, told you she'd be back, and then never returned."
I nodded slowly. "Correct."
"And then," George continued, "you were put into foster care, bouncing around from one to another for various reasons. And then you were in your most recent one from age eleven. And I'm guessing some serious shit went down in that foster home-things you haven't fully told us about yet, which is fine. All in your own time. And at school you had issues making friends, people weren't nice to you, and the two people that actually kind of took you under their wing were killed. And no one was ever caught."
"Yeah," I said. "At least that's the short version of it all. I've never been able to make any sense of it either. People just seemed to think it was an accident and the culprit ran away to avoid getting in trouble. They thought alcohol could've been involved. But it was just one more thing that I wanted answers to and never got."
Fred and George looked at each other before looking back at me, identical smirks spreading over their faces.
"Oh no, what?" I asked hesitantly.
"What if we helped you find that out too?" George asked.
I shook my head. "No."
"You just said it's something else you'd like to have closure for," Fred said. "If you ask me, it sounds like your whole life is full of unanswered questions."
"It is," I said. "But I came here to escape my past-at least my recent past, not dig up old dirt from so long ago."
"How's that working for you?" Fred asked in amusement. "Escaping your recent past?"
"Yeah, would you say that's going...well, perhaps?" George asked.
"Swimmingly?" Fred continued.
"Without a hitch?"
"Okay, enough," I said, actually letting out a breath of laughter. "I just want to move on."
"Can you even do that without answers?" Fred looked at me quizzically. "I mean, I just told you that I didn't think I could fully move on from my own issues if I wasn't honest with myself."
"I'm honest with myself," I said. "This is different. Not having answers isn't the same as being dishonest."
"Are you sure?" Fred asked, tilting his head.
I nodded. "And by the way, I think about getting answers all the time and of course I'm curious. But-"
"But you're afraid," Fred said."Look, thinking about answers isn't the same as having them. For example, I'm thinking about your answer to my question, but I don't have it because you haven't given it to me."
"Oh, honestly," I sighed, letting out a quiet laugh. "Fine, I'm trying to move on without them. I've lasted this long with no answers about anything. Happy now?"
"I am, but are you?" Fred asked. "You're really content with just trying to move on without answers? Instead of facing your fears?"
I stared at him over the top of my mug of tea. "Fred, my past is a mess. My current life is a mess. I'm not sure it's best to go digging around. It's just easier to leave things as they are."
"Easier, sure," Fred said, setting his mug down, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands. "But what's going to make you happiest?"
I thought about that for a moment. "Like you said, I'm afraid. Afraid of what I'll find out. I'm afraid of getting hurt again. What if the person who was driving that car has been living some fantastic life somewhere without any repercussions of what they did? And what if my mother's been alive all this time? What if she really just didn't want me?"
"If what you said is true, I don't see how that's possible," George said. "You made it seem like you were so close."
"She taught you how to ice skate, yeah?" Fred said. "She used to take you all the time. You two had all these plans to travel. To go to New York, Paris...to come here."
"You know, that's part of the reason I chose to come here after I ran away," I said. "Because of her. That and the fact that we have English ancestry."
"Really," Fred said.
I nodded. "None of our immediate ancestors lived here. They'd been in America for centuries. But they were here at one point way back when." I sighed. "I guess I still felt as if coming here would give me some connection to my mother and just to family in general. Even if ancestors I'd never met had lived here, well, they were here."
"Did your mother ever tell you anything about them?" George asked.
I shrugged. "She really didn't know much. It was centuries ago, like I said."
"Yeah, but what about some of your more recent ancestors? Grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts...great uncles and aunts?"
"I've never met anyone from my dad's side of the family, understandably. And never heard anything about them either. And on my mom's side...her father died when I was a baby, and her mother when I was four. My mother was an only child. My family wasn't very big and there wasn't anyone left by the time my mother left me. If there was, do you think I would have ended up in foster care?"
Fred and George were quiet as they thought about that.
"What was your mother's name?" Fred asked.
"Rebecca," I said. "Rebecca McConnell. After my dad left, she changed both her and my last name back to her maiden one."
"Okay, so..." Fred said, furrowing his brow in thought, "couldn't we go look for some kind of newspaper articles or something? Maybe there was some kind of report of her going missing or...well, a death."
"But wouldn't we have to go all the way to Salem in order to do that?" George asked.
"And?" Fred asked. "Where's your sense of adventure, Georgie?"
"Salem's in a whole different country, Fred. That's some major traveling. And we'd have to organize a Portkey..."
"I Apparated," I said.
George gaped at me. "You did? And it worked? Without you getting hurt?"
I smiled slightly. "Not exactly. I got pretty splinched. No entire body parts or limbs went missing, though."
"How'd you pull that off?" George asked.
"Practice," I said. "Longer and longer distances. I knew it was a big risk to Apparate across a whole ocean, but I didn't have a choice. There are only certain spots where Portkeys are authorized to go. For example, I couldn't just appear in Muggle London, obviously. So naturally, every Portkey needs to be authorized by the government. I don't know if it's the same here, but that's how it is in America. And I couldn't just waltz into the government offices and request a Portkey. Not in the physical state I was in. They'd ask a bunch of questions and I'd get attention drawn to myself."
George nodded. "Right. Makes sense. And it is the same here, by the way. In any case, I'm not about to risk losing any more body parts." He reached up and pushed his hair aside, revealing that his left ear was missing.
My mouth fell open. "How did that happen? And how did I never notice?"
"You wouldn't notice unless you have x-ray vision, to see through all of this luscious red hair," George said lightly. "And if you must know, I lost it in a pretty nasty duel against an ogre." He sighed. "He put up a good fight, but I got him in the end. Not before he took my ear, though."
"Liar," I said with a snort.
George laughed. "Truthfully, I was hit with a curse when we went to get Harry from his aunt and uncle's house almost two years ago now. We had this big thought out plan put together involving Polyjuice Potion and everything so that we could get Harry to safety when he became of age, but we were ambushed, and I was hit from behind with a curse."
I gaped at him. "Wow," I said.
"It made him even more so the uglier twin," Fred said matter of factly, grinning at his brother. "Pushing me even further into first place."
George rolled his eyes. "No, I disagree. Battle wounds are sexy, it's a proven fact. Backed up by lots of research."
"Mhm, sure," Fred snorted. "Tell me, how sexy was it when I had a fractured leg, broken pelvis and dislocated hip?"
George's face paled slightly, but he managed to put a smile on his face. "I thought you looked dashing."
"Yeah, what about even after it was healed but I still struggled to move faster than a shuffling walk for weeks?" Fred asked. "Or even now when part of my left side occasionally aches, especially when it rains."
"It's a good power to have," George said. "You always know when a storm is coming."
Fred shot his brother a look, while I cleared my throat. I could sense things getting tense and I didn't want Fred to suddenly go back to the place he was in when I arrived. Obviously, and understandably so, the night of the battle was a tough subject and there was only so much he could take when talking about it. From the looks of things, his tolerance for the subject had gone up quite a bit, but tonight we were just about reaching his limit.
"So...why were you moving Harry anyway? Why the need for this huge thought out plan?" I asked, changing the subject.
"That's a long story," Fred sighed. "One for another time, probably. I think we should get back to the topic at hand."
"Which is what?" George asked. "Going back to Salem? Like I said, we can't just leave the country on a whim."
"We've left the country before, or have you forgotten all about Egypt?" Fred argued.
"That was a vacation, Fred."
"You've been to Egypt?" I asked curiously.
"Mm," Fred nodded. "We went to visit Bill the summer before our fifth year."
"What was that like?" I asked in interest. "I'll bet it was beautiful."
"It was a lot of fun," Fred said. "I'm sure it was educational too, but George and I weren't interested in that. We were interested in all the mummies and more importantly, the treasure."
"Not that we could touch any of it, obviously," George said. "Curses and whatnot."
"Do you have any pictures?" I asked.
"Yeah," George nodded. "I think they're all back at the Burrow, though. There was even a photo printed in the Prophet. Dad won the money for that trip at work, so there was an article printed."
"That sounds like an amazing trip," I sighed.
"George and I actually tried to shut Percy in a pyramid," Fred said quietly, a reminiscent smile coming over his face. "But Mum caught us."
There was silence in the room for a moment before Fred snapped out of his apparent trance, blinked, and looked between George and me.
"What?" he asked.
"I think that was the first time you've done that," George said.
"Done what?"
"Openly talked about a memory of Percy...and you even brought it up."
Fred blinked again before shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I guess it is." He turned back to me. "You like to travel?"
"What gives you that idea?"
"All your stories about travel plans with your mother," he said. "And the fact that you were just so curious about Egypt."
I smiled almost wistfully. "Yeah, if I could, I would probably travel all the time. See the world..." I trailed off and cleared my throat as I looked down at my tea. "Believe me, I never imagined it happening the way it has been. I bounced around America a bit and then came here, but I spent my time in the streets or in disgustingly cheap motels. But when what little money I'd managed to take with me was gone, it was strictly the streets. When I used to dream of seeing the world, it was never like that." I inhaled deeply through my nose. "Remember how I said I used to want to go into photography? I loved taking pictures of places the most. I always thought I could travel, see the world, take some photos and just enjoy the beauty of the world. But it's hard to appreciate beauty when you're starving, falling asleep to the scent of garbage and waking up to pigeons poking at your face. And then there was the fact that I didn't even own a camera. I tried to buy one once at a thrift store in Salem, but my foster dad made me sell it back and give him the money."
Fred let out a scoff of disgust. "He sounds like a real asshole."
I let out a breath of laughter. "Understatement of the century." Before anyone else could say anything, I went on. "Anyway, I don't even know if looking for my mother in Salem newspapers would do any good. I don't even know if she stayed local. I imagine that when she left, she left town completely."
"That doesn't mean the town she had spent a majority of her life in wouldn't run a story if something came up on her," George said.
"True, I suppose," I said slowly. "But also...the truth is that I don't know if I can face going back there just yet. Not now anyway."
"Fair enough," Fred said. "So...for now we just keep reading that diary and go from there?"
I nodded. "I suppose so."
"But for the record," Fred said. "I think you should get those answers. Even though you're afraid. Because if you keep waiting until you're ready, you'll never be ready, you know?"
I looked up at him, impressed. "I didn't know you were so insightful," I said.
"Yeah, well, I am," he said with a grin. "Besides, I know for a fact that as frustrating as it is to have people push you to face things...it helps in the end. And...if I'm going to be honest with myself about how I've been affected by Percy's death, then I think you need to also get some honesty in your life. Get all the cards out on the table. Find yourself some truth so you can move on. We can do it together."
I met his eyes and just stared back at him for a moment, not saying anything. Finally, Fred broke the moment by smiling and turning to gather up all of our mugs to bring to the kitchen and I took that as my cue to leave.
"I should get going," I said, pushing myself to my feet. "It's already almost three in the morning. In another few hours, Tom and Martha will be getting up for the day, believe it or not."
The twins both groaned. "I don't know how they do it," Fred said. "In fact, I don't know how you did it. Working all those hours before you finally agreed to shorter shifts and a day off a week."
I half smiled. "Work was my distraction," I said.
"Are you okay going back by yourself?" Fred asked.
"Yeah, of course," I answered. "It's not far."
"You're sure?" he asked.
I nodded. "Positive."
"Okay, well at least let me walk you to the front door," he offered.
I agreed before turning to give a goodbye wave to George. And then I let Fred lead the way out of the flat, down the stairs, and across the shop to the front door, where we came to a stop.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you by talking to Noah," I said. "I didn't mean to make you feel-"
"Don't apologize," Fred said, holding up a hand. "I was being selfish. You should open up to whoever you feel comfortable with. And if it's more people than just me, then that's-that's great."
"Noah's really sweet," I pointed out.
Fred nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know. He's a good guy."
I reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and surprising Fred, but also surprising myself with the action. "Thank you, by the way," I said. "For returning that necklace. And even asking Bill in the first place to check if it was cursed. I appreciate it."
"Are you going to wear it?" Fred asked.
"I suppose so," I said after a moment, dropping his hand.
Fred smiled. "Might as well. I'd never take it off if I got a free necklace."
"You're into wearing jewelry?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "If someone dropped a free necklace into your lap right now, you'd jump at the chance to wear it?"
"Nah, I'd give it to George. Things like that would look way better around his dainty neck."
I let out a giggle at Fred's joke. "I'm sure it would."
"In any case," Fred went on. "I'm not as much into jewelry as I am into free stuff."
"Yeah, well, if the world accommodated wishes like that, you and George would be in trouble." I gestured around the shop. "Your whole career depends on making money."
"So does everyone's," Fred snorted.
"True," I said, a smile turning up the corner of my mouth. "Anyway, I really should get going. I'll see you around?"
Fred nodded. "Yeah, of course." He opened the door to the shop and I stepped out before turning and giving him a tiny wave and an equally tiny smile.
"Hey, Soph?" Fred called from the doorway as I started to turn away.
"Hm?" I asked, turning back around.
"Thanks," Fred said. "For coming over tonight. I know it put you out of your comfort zone. I know you didn't want to see me the way I was. I didn't want you to see me the way I was. I know it must have scared you. And I know you say you came to defend yourself, but you still came. And you were honest. You asked me stuff without worrying about it making me angry."
I snorted. Yeah, at first, I wanted to say.
"As you already know," Fred went on, "I prefer that to when people tiptoe around me when I'm in a mood. When they all whisper just let him be." He shrugged. "And I'm sorry for freaking out on you too. At the pub...and earlier in the flat."
"I know," I said, nodding. "You may be a lot of things, but you're not mean, Fred."
"How can you be so sure?" He asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.
"Like I said, I haven't forgotten what you did the day those-what did you call them? Baboons?-tripped me and threw a drink in my face." I smiled slightly. "I know mean, Fred, and you're not it."
And with that, I gave him one last smile and a wave and turned back towards the Leaky Cauldron.