Chapter 29

Discovered

May.

Soon, I would have known the twins for a year. Would have known George for a year.

One entire year of meeting, fighting for what we believed, losing people we cared about. Arguing. Falling in love.

And getting my heart broken. Ouch.

But now, looking back at everything we'd been through, I wouldn't have altered the past for all the money in the world.

Yes, these last couple of weeks had been sucky, full of shifting stares, ignoring each other, muted accusations which didn't come with any explanation on his part, bewilderment on mine. And Fred in the middle of it all, desperately trying to make things alright.

Yes, these last couple of weeks had been downright depressing.

But, still. I remembered that first moment in the alley.

"I'm George Weasley," he'd said, tipping an imaginary hat as I stared on, dumbfounded, at the two strangers who'd just saved my life. "the attractive twin."

How could I have known, at that moment, just how true this statement would become – from my point of view anyway?

I remembered every moment we'd spent together. And even if there had been hard times, I was resolved about this; this last year had been a hell of a ride, but meeting the twins had totally been worth it.

oOo

"Mel," Jamie asked, his voice travelling the length of the living room, loud and clear, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with his tiny soldiers. I slowly lifted my gaze from my book. "Why doesn't Oliver come over anymore?"

I stiffened. My eyes involuntarily met George's, who, just like me, had looked up from the letter he was writing on at the kitchen table at Jamie's question. I felt myself blushing and quickly turned away from his searching stare.

"Uh," I cleared my throat, uncomfortable, acutely aware of the fact that Fred, sitting beside me on the couch, was also alert, waiting for an explanation. All three of them wanted an answer I was suddenly very embarrassed to give.

Because what on earth would it appear like to George if he learned that I'd broken up with Oliver right after the kiss we'd shared? Would he understand how I felt for him, the wave of guilt and self-hatred that it had started? Because I'd been the one, of course, to suggest that we forget about the whole matter, and that we made sure it didn't affect us from now on. But if it had made me break up with Ollie, then clearly it had affected me more than I wished George knew.

I was afraid of what he'd think of me if he learned the way the kiss had made me realize just how in love with him I was, and just how wrong it was for me to stay with Oliver. Plain and simple.

And yet, Jamie had phrased his question in such a way that made it absolutely impossible for me to evade it.

"We got into a fight," I answered, trying to act as though it was no big deal. "That's why he isn't around as much as he was before."

"But I thought he was your boyfriend," Jamie said, sounding mildly interested, not even realizing how his words had set the three of us on edge. "You're not supposed to fight with your boyfriend."

"Well," I countered, my throat dry, seeing Fred straighten up from the corner of my eye. "He's not really my boyfriend anymore." And as I said it, I couldn't help looking towards George, who was gazing at me with piercing eyes.

"Oh, okay," Jamie just said as the two of us looked at each other. A million tiny details crossed my mind in the few seconds it took me to realize that I should look away; how tired he looked, with dark circles under his eyes. How his hair looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, tousled, falling in front of his eyes. The way his nose wrinkled slightly as he tried to decipher some meaning behind my simple words. How guarded, as well, distant, apparently unfeeling he appeared, as though he was trying to protect himself by not showing me how he really felt. But he couldn't really hide the surprise that my words had provoked; his eyes tight, he seemed to search my face, looking for – what? Something that would make sense of what I'd just said? I just looked on, wondering what he saw, what he could interpret from my features. Wondering if he was noticing small details about me, too. And wondering, most of all, why on earth he was so incapable of seeing what was written so plainly on my face.

"I love you!" I could have been shouting at him from my side of the room with desperation, and not making much more progress. "But what do you feel?"

oOo

A few days afterwards, we learned through Bill that Jamie's parents had finally been able to find a safe place to stay at.

"I don't want to leave," Jamie said stubbornly, crossing his arms on his chest as I attempted to finish packing his things in his duffel bag. "I won't go!"

"Jamie," I sighed, fed up with the argument that had been going on without a break since the previous morning. "Could you put your shoes on, please?"

"I won't," he repeated, kicking the pillow that had somehow ended up on the floor. "You can't make me!"

"That's enough!" I finally snapped, straightening up and making an effort to look serious and grown-up like. "I've had it with your complaining! Now grab your coat – we're meeting your mom at the train station in fifteen minutes."

He just shook his head violently from side to side, as I stood uselessly in front of him, wondering how on earth I was to get him ready if he refused to cooperate.

"What's wrong Jamie?" George's gentle voice, which I hadn't heard in quite a while, startled me; I looked towards the bedroom door, in front of which the twins had just miraculously appeared. "Aren't you excited about seeing your mum and dad?"

The little boy kept on shaking his head as I stared on, dejected, holding one of his shoes in my right hand, a sweater in my left hand.

"Well, why not?" Fred insisted, taking a step inside the room and kneeling down next to where Jamie was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Stewart's home now too, you know. The four of you are going to get away for a little while, to stay safe."

"I don't wanna go," Jamie muttered silently, his chin touching his chest.

"Give me one good reason why not," Fred said, nudging him with his elbow, attempting to tickle his neck to make him laugh. Jamie raised his head then, and the tears drenching his face were all too visible in the dim light.

"Oh, Jamie," I whispered, and already he'd crossed the room and lunged himself at me. Encircling my waist with his small arms, he sobbed against my stomach; I held him silently, heartbroken, caressing his wild dark hair.

"I don't wanna go without you," he whispered, his voice muffled in my shirt. "I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too," I told him, drawing him away from me at arm's length so that I could study him, kneeling to his level. Gently, I pushed his hair back from his eyes and tried to smile, though I pretty much felt like crying myself. "But your mom and dad are waiting for you, now, and they want to see you just as much as I want to keep you here, with us. Only, they haven't seen you in months. Can you imagine how much they've missed you? And I'm sure you've missed them too. And that you can't wait to see your brother again."

He nodded tersely, his lower lip trembling.

"We'll see each other again soon, Jamie. I promise." I placed my hand on his cheek, studying his features, and he grabbed my wrist to hold it to his face. "But your mom and dad need you right now, and you have to be strong for them. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, nodding slightly, appearing resolved. "I can be strong. I will."

My heart gave a painful lurch, and I pulled him to me again, burying my face in his hair as his arms went around my neck, his head nuzzling under my chin. We stayed like this for a few minutes in silence, just the two of us, forgetting that we weren't actually alone in the room and that there were people waiting for us elsewhere. Finally, at some point, George's hand seemed to appear out of nowhere; he gently detached Jamie's arms from around my neck and Fred pulled him behind him away from me, looking sad, but resolved.

"Love you Jamie," I whispered, afraid of my voice breaking. He nodded, raised his hand in a half-wave, wiping his nose with his sleeve; Fred put a hand on his back, resolutely leading him out of the room.

"Bill said it'd be best if only one of us took him to his parents," George said, perhaps in response to the fact that I looked just about ready to bolt after them. "He'll be fine; Fred will make sure of that."

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. It had been a couple of weeks since I'd heard him talking to me like this, gently, as though I could very easily break right in front of him. It reminded me of the nights when I used to have nightmares. I realized, with a start, just how much I'd missed the sound of his voice.

"Are you okay?" he asked, uncertain, as I wrapped my arms around myself, biting down on my lower lip.

"What do you think, George?" I replied, my voice wavering and, as always, covering my feelings with anger and sarcasm. "And why the hell are you suddenly so interested in my wellbeing? I thought you didn't care anymore."

I could feel him next to me, his hesitation, weighing his options; he raised his hand slowly, as if to comfort me, but let it fall back on his side.

I wondered if he felt like I did whenever I was standing next to him, wanting to reach out and touch him. If he felt like he was tiptoeing on the edge of a cliff, thinking about making that leap. Wondering if he should.

But he didn't take that step forward. That day, he turned away and walked out of the bedroom, and simply left me alone with my sadness.

oOo

"I have to ask you a question," Fred muttered to me, and before I could even start to object, he'd grabbed hold of my forearm, pushed me into his empty bedroom and closed the door after us.

"That's rich, coming from you," I shot back, crossing my arms on my chest and leaning against one of his drawers. "Fred Weasley, the uncooperative lad of the month."

I didn't need to be any more specific; he knew what I meant, of course. How, for days now, I'd tried to extract information from him, to understand the reasons behind George's coldness; Fred had simply refused to help, only telling me, over and over again, that his brother "needed time", and that I had to let him "move on". From what though, that remained obscure.

Fred, however, ignored the comment; standing directly in front of me, bending over a little so that we were at the same eye level, his eyes remained on my face, calculating, as he asked his question.

"How would you feel if I told you that George had broken up with Alicia?"

I remained silent.

But the emotions crossing my face were clearly enough of an answer for him.

First came absolute surprise, and even a bit of suspicion; because it made absolutely no sense that what Fred was talking about could have happened without me hearing about it in the last couple of weeks. Then, as I studied him carefully, the honesty in his face couldn't be doubted, and I started to believe his words; and before I could even attempt to stop it, a smile so large it hurt my cheeks spread across my face without any warning.

My hands shot up to hide it from Fred, obviously, but not fast enough for him not to notice it.

"I knew it," he whispered, his own face stretched by an enormous grin. "You are so busted."

"You don't know anything," I countered weakly, wondering how on earth I could extract myself from this embarrassing situation.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Would you like me to spell out the obvious signs for you? Because I will, gladly, and you'll see how this answers every question I've been asking myself for the past few months."

He grabbed my arm as I started to turn away, forcing me to face him.

"Oh no you don't. Time for you to come clean, Ands. This is why you've hated Alicia since the beginning, isn't it? And why she hated you, in return. You guys were fighting for him!"

I just shook my head, then lowered it into my hands, trying to think.

"Well, what about Oliver, then? Why would you go out with a crazy Quidditch fan with a quaffle instead of a brain you barely knew? It was only to make him jealous, wasn't it?"

"No!" I forced the word out this time, outraged by the manner in which he seemed to be explaining my life choices to me. "I cared about Oliver a lot!"

"Then why did you dump him right after you had kissed Ge-"

"Because it wasn't right to stay with him when I…" my voice broke, and I looked away, embarrassed.

Fred's own voice was gentler. "When you felt like you did for George?"

I just exhaled, shutting my eyes. The situation couldn't be more horrible, from my point of view. I actually felt like I was on trial. All these weeks of hiding what I was feeling, all so that I wouldn't make a fool out of myself in front of the twins… all of that for nothing.

Fred knew. George would know by the end of the day. And I'd become the laughing-stock of the Weasley family. Melinda, the muggle girl who thought she was in love with George. How ridiculous I must look to them all. As if I stood any chance at all.

"Right, you've had your fun." I finally snapped, and Fred, surprised, actually took a step away from me. "Will you leave me alone now?"

"I wasn't laughing at you, Ands."

"Then what the hell were you doing, Fred?"

"Just trying to understand what's going on inside your head so that I can-"

"Well, now you understand, don't you? And you know just how pathetic I am. Good for you. Good for you both." I pushed past him and all but ran to the door, but already he'd caught up with me and was blocking my way.

"Ands," he said, looking absolutely horror-struck, raising both of his hands and placing them on my shoulders, keeping me standing where I was. "I don't think you're pathetic. How could you believe I would? Don't you know me at all?"

I squirmed under his hold, looking away from his all-too-knowing eyes.

"And I wasn't trying to be intrusive either. I guess I though if you two dimwits couldn't solve this, maybe it was time for me to step in and make things right."

"Just leave it alone, Fred," I muttered, still stung, though the reason why must have appeared incomprehensible to him. "And leave me alone, too. This isn't any of your business anyway."

Finally succeeding in squirming out from under his hold, I ran out of the room without looking back; past George who was sitting at the kitchen table, not answering his surprised gaze, down the flat's stairs, and not slowing down until I'd reached the street, freedom. Fred didn't try to stop me this time.

oOo

I ended up at the park I used to take Jamie.

The minutes seemed to pass slowly. I couldn't resolve to go back home. I couldn't help imagining the two of them, Fred and George, alone in the flat, discussing Fred's brilliant epiphany.

And making fun of me for it. Obviously.

Because it was one thing to be in love with George, cherish stupid fantasies in which he returned the sentiment, and keep all of those to myself; but it was a whole other thing to have Fred stare me down and tell me that he knew about it all, saying how obvious it had all been.

And the ridiculous aspect of the whole situation had only appeared to me at that moment; because Fred saying it out loud had made all of it much more real, and had made me realize just how stupid I was. For feeling like I did. For expecting anything out of it. For actually believing that George and I-

But it was time to stop all of that.

"You're an idiot," I whispered furiously, and the soft Spring wind ruffled my hair, seeming to whip the insult right back in my face. "Idiot. Just a muggle. A plain, small, useless girl. He's a wizard. He could do so much better than what you're willing to offer." With my left hand, I unclasped the silver bracelet he'd given me and contemplated throwing it in the pond. "What makes you think he'd consider you at all?"

But he broke up with Alicia, a small voice, frightfully similar to Fred's, whispered in my head, drowning out my self-pity. Surely, that must mean something? Maybe after we kissed he realized-

"Don't!" I almost shrieked, covering my ears with my hands. Don't even imagine it. Stupid, stupid. Impossible. Downright ridiculous. Laughable.

The bracelet slipped from my fingers but I grabbed it again before it disappeared in the grass. Then I sighed. How would I ever be able to put these fantasies out of my brain?

If I couldn't bear to let his bracelet go, how could I even attempt to get George out of my head?

oOo

Moving out seemed to be the only solution to all of this.

I had turned it over and over again in my head as I made my way back home, and was ready to go through with the plan I'd formed as an attempt to put a bit of distance between the twins and myself. It wouldn't be so difficult, I told myself sternly, grabbing hold of the door handle and sighing. Just look for another flat, pack your bags and get out.

But when I came inside, the twins were nowhere in sight for me to explain what I intended to do. Instead, I found a small note on the kitchen table. And it read as followed:

Ands,

We got the signal. This is it. Harry's back at Hogwarts. We'll swing by the Burrow to get Ginny and then get there quick.

Stay here, stay safe. We should be back tomorrow morning.

Sorry about before. We'll talk as soon as we get back.

Love you.

Fred and George

oOo

Epic chapters coming up soon!