That One Time I Fell In Love
(And Other Impossible Things). Fred Weasley II finally meets his match in the form of one loud-mouthed and free-spirited, Emma Terry. [NextGen GIR World!]
Emma's POV, yo
Chapter 36: That one time Emma called a code blue.
Why, hello.
My name is Emma, and I live with a boy.
"Why the hell are you knocking?" Charmaine deadpanned the second she opened the door.
Oh, Charmaine. I loved the girl so much. We'd first met when she'd responded to my flatmate wanted ad and admittedly at first, I hadn't been sure that we'd ever get along. One wouldn't exactly describe the woman as chipper or friendly or hell, even nice. Charmaine was known for her sarcasm, resting bitch face and the running joke over whether or not she had once killed a man (to this day, I still cannot tell if she's being serious). But there hadn't been anything technically wrong with her so naturally, being me, I couldn't find a way of saying no without being rude. So in she moved!
But she actually ended up staying.
I honestly don't know where along the lines we learned to put up with one another. Whenever she wanted calm and quiet, I'd be busy screaming at my brother and sister. When I was exhausted, she would be blasting her terrible indie music to deafening levels. But somehow, somewhere down the road, Charmaine had developed a 'hurt Emma Terry and you die' kind of attitude and I would likewise kill for her. My flatmate also quite unapologetically hated Fred, as I think we all know, but I didn't blame her for that. We'd only been flatmates for two months when I'd first met him. I'd practically crawled home that early November first morning, my mummy costume in a rather dishevelled manor and had unfortunately encountered Charmaine in the hallway.
"Oh my god, are you only just getting back?" she'd asked in amazement.
I'd nodded, trying not to cringe.
"Must've been one hell of a Halloween party."
"I … I might have gone home with someone dressed as a barbarian," I'd admitted.
Charmaine had blinked a couple times. Then, she'd crossed her arms over her pyjama top, a kind of game face on. "Already sounds like an arsehole. Were you safe?"
"Blimey, Char."
She'd just shrugged before amazingly, smiling a little. "I hope you had fun, Emma."
I'd smiled back. So the woman did care, after all!
"Tell him if he hurts you in anyway, I'll fucking destroy him," she'd added.
"Oh, I am never seeing him again, trust me," I'd scoffed loudly.
HA. Yeah.
"About that …" I wasn't quite sure what to tell Charmaine now, but thankfully the woman seemed to understand when I was being weird by this point. She just dragged me inside. I glanced around my too small, still too expensive, still grotty flat and almost felt nostalgic about it. Hell, I'd first moved in here a couple of months after leaving Mark. It might have looked like a step down to most people, but to me this place was perfect! It was home. Charmaine practically threw me down onto the sofa and asked, "Tea?"
"Actually, yeah," I said, realising that I'd never actually drunk whatever Fred had been in the middle of making for me.
"Get it yourself then," Charmaine rolled her eyes.
"God, I love you."
"I'd ask 'what's up' but I'm doubtful you could even explain at this point," she said, folding her arms tightly and sitting down next to me. "I've been meaning to talk to you, actually."
"I'm sorry I haven't really been around lately."
"It's fine, neither have I," Charmaine mentioned. "It's just … Leah and I are moving in together."
"What, that's amazin'!" I cried. "Holy shit, Char!"
"Ew …" my flatmate complained as I practically leapt the sofa to hug her fiercely.
"Oh, hush, you gotta take this one," I grinned.
"I regret saying anything."
"No, you don't," I smirked into her shoulder. Charmaine and her girlfriend, Leah, had been talking about moving in together for at least a year. I pulled back to see just the hint of happiness on her face. "So go on! What finally got you guys to do it?"
"Lease came up on this place," she mentioned. "Felt like the right time, I guess."
"Oh shit, the lease came up?" I asked. "I didn't even know that–"
"Yeah, maybe because this is hardly your address anymore," Charmaine said. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm moving out, and the landlord needs to know whether you want to renew or not by next Tuesday."
Ah … fuck.
Look, this hadn't exactly been how I'd planned my night to go! No, really. I'm all about fun, right? I'm totally ready to get down, but then I'd gotten the tax return forms demanding that I update my information because apparently, this was the third address it had tried to reach me at (or something, I don't know). Like I didn't have enough to do lately, but honestly everything had been going fine! … until I'd reached a certain part of the page:
Full name: Emma Louise Terry.
Date of birth: 10.07.04.
Current residential address:
And that was when I'd blanched, because I'd automatically started to write Fred's address.
Like … FRED'S address.
FRED'S FUCKING ADDRESS.
I mean, shitballs, this was a big deal. A BIG, BIG deal! Like yes, ok, I wasn't supposed to be the one who flipped out over relationship shit like this, that was Fred. The poor boy hadn't known what had hit him the second I waltz into his life! (Or did he waltz into mine? Some days I'm not so sure). It was scary, and like any other person in the world I had baggage too, but out of the two of us, someone needed to be the sane one. That person was supposed to be me.
But the last time I had lived with a boy, it had not gone well.
"Fuck," I muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Oh, come on," Charmaine said, flatly. "You practically live with him already, just make it bloody official so we can both finally leave this dump behind."
"Hey! I love this dump!"
"It's still a dump."
"Don't you be disgracin' the hallowed place where we first met," I pointed a finger at her.
"Seriously. You only have to be a grown up for however long it takes you to say, 'hey Fred, just letting you know my lease it up at my old place so I'm moving in with you. Ok? Ok'," Charmaine shot me a look. "That took less than thirty seconds, I swear."
"This is FRED you're talking about!"
"Bloody hell, what in the fucking world ever made you fall for that bloke?"
"I … look, he was seriously hot in that barbarian costume, ok?"
"I'll take your word for it," Charmaine said. "I mean, I won't pretend it hasn't been amusing hearing about all the drama the last couple years, but I know for a fact that you're ready for this. I might hate him, and he'll always be a bit of a douchebag, but he worships the ground you walk on. Just move in with him already? Please?"
I just sat there, helplessly.
Look, terrified sixteen-year-old Emma getting her first ever kiss would have never guessed she'd end up here. Flirty, optimistic 19-year-old Emma never would have guessed she'd end up here. Wary, cautiously hopeful 25-year-old Emma DEFINITELY never would have guessed she'd end up here! But here I was, about to throw my heart out on the line for the billionth time, for a ridiculous boy who barely even knew how to function outside basic human needs!
God, he was a Mess. A hot, hot mess, but shit, at the end of the day he was mine.
"I'll talk to him," I said, weakly. "I'll probably die doing it, but … I'll talk to him, I swear."
"Before Tuesday?"
I sighed. "Before Tuesday. Now since we only have a few days left of being flatmates," I grabbed a cushion from the floor, shoving it against Charmaine's side before leaning into her. "I think it's appropriate that we have one last Star Wars marathon together!"
"Oh hell fucking no."
"Chaaaaar, you know you can't resist."
"Fine," Charmaine huffed. "but only if you finally admit that you low-key ship Luke and Han."
I just snorted. "Oh come on, I've just been messing with ya. Honestly, who doesn't?"
So hello, serious conversation! I want to have you, I truly do. I see you, I wanna give you the time you deserve, but I present in your path: Fred Fucking Weasley.
God, that man.
Sometimes, I wish I'd never had the balls to flirt back when we'd first met. Sometimes, I wish that I'd still been so fucked up that I'd never date anyone else ever again but of course, that line of thinking only lasted until he made me tea, or kissed my neck or did some other dumb thing that made my heart go into spasms. I wanted to talk to him! No, I really did, but he's been so much better lately (lord, I'd almost had a heart attack when he'd first come home from the hospital … he'd looked like a ghost). But he was really only just starting to laugh again. He'd been talking about his dad and it was helping and sometimes, I'd catch him just looking at me like … you know? He was getting there. I didn't want to ruin that, I couldn't!
Hence the reason I found myself getting to Monday (!) on the verge of FREAKING THE SHIT OUT.
I burst into the lab in a flurry of clipboards, unwashed hair and stained robes, practically screeching,
"IT'S A CODE FUCKING BLUE!"
Sarah Blunt, currently balls deep in an autopsy, barely looked up.
"Oh, hey Emma," she said airily.
"Why am I bothering with you?" I cried. "Where's Libby?"
"In the fridge!" a muffled voice came from the vague direction of the chilled cupboard that we kept all sorts of varying specimens in. I could see the waft of cold air seeping out and waited impatiently for Libby to emerge in a giant one-size-fits-all coat and a steel box in her arms.
"So tell me," Libby said, kicking the fridge door behind her closed with a heel. "Is this a dramatic Code Blue, or for real?"
"I LIVE WITH FRED," I blurted out.
Sarah and Libby suddenly exchanged looks.
"I'll get the doors! I think there's wine in the fridge!" Libby yelled as suddenly, the girls burst into a frantic flurry of motion. She practically threw the box onto the nearest autopsy table and skidded towards the door of the lab at top speed.
"Why is there wine in the fucking lab fridge?!" Sarah cried, even as she was vanishing the blood off her hands and hurtling for it.
"WHY DO YOU THINK WE HAVE CODE BLUE TO BEGIN WITH?"
"I think we needa start holdin' emergency drills again," I said in amusement, leaning an elbow next to the head of Sarah's buddy, who seemed to be a 300 year old Caucasian male, if I wasn't mistaken. "We're losin' our touch!"
"… good god, there is actually wine in here," Sarah's disembodied voice came from the fridge.
"You bet your arse there is!" Libby hurtled back to my side, shucking off the giant coat along the way. She slid to a halt and slammed her hands down on her mostly clear autopsy table, just as Sarah dashed in with a wine bottle and sent it skidding down the table. Thankfully, Libby caught it before it could go crashing over the edge.
"AND TIME!" Sarah yelled.
I glanced at my watch. "Congrats, ladies, I believe that was less than a minute."
"A minute?" Sarah looked disgusted with herself. "Drills sound about right."
"All right, let's just get into this," Libby said, using her wand to uncork what looked like a bottle of the cheapest wine you could buy. "We don't have glasses, sorry, unless you want to drink out of some test tubes?"
"Just gimme the bottle," I said, taking it from her once it was opened. I mean, let's face it, I'm totally classy. I'm drinking out the bloody bottle. "Now, please, reassure me that I'm not gonna die!"
"Look, Emma honey," Sarah and Libby exchanged looks again as I shared the disgusting wine over the autopsy table. I know. That's such an image. "I dunno what to say. We could've told you that you were living with Fred."
"Libby?" I threw a hand at her.
"Well," she stressed. "I mean, come on! Literally tell me the last time you went home?"
"Saturday, actually, I'll have you know!" I practically yelled. "I mean … look, I went to talk to Charmaine and apparently, our lease is up! So hey, guess what, she's decided to move in with her girlfriend which is great for her, only that leaves me with realising that holy shit, I now have to somehow let Fred know that 'hey, by the way, I actually live with you now, can you let your landlord know? Cheers, mate!'"
Both of them just cracked into laughter. BITCHES, I'M HAVING A CRISIS HERE.
"Oh my god," Libby was practically sobbing.
"Oh, fuck you guys," I huffed. "Stop laughin'! The only things I still had left in that place was my furniture, a pair of running shoes and some old textbooks."
"Girl, you're not making this any less funny," Libby grinned, rubbing her eyes.
"Honestly, Charmaine thought that I'd already moved out!"
"Well … haven't you?" Sarah asked.
Had I? Of course the answer was yes. That was why we were here gossiping around an autopsy table, right? Because after everything that had happened with the man, everything we'd been through – sex, drinking, death, yelling, and crying – we still spent every single night together. Home didn't feel like my ugly but beautiful to me cosy flat anymore. No, for some reason, home had become the one-man bachelor pad that was kept irritatingly clean and was decorated with GODDAMN flamingo umbrella stands!
Home was … wherever he was.
I groaned, hanging my head and Sarah rubbed my shoulder sweetly, passing back the wine. "Drink up, girl," she said, gently. "I promise, it gets better."
"Easy for you to say, you're married," I grumbled, eventually lifting my head.
Sarah just laughed. "Yeah, and at one point we weren't."
"Bitch, you're the only one here who's had anything even closely resembling a normal relationship," Libby laughed.
"Ok, fine, we met, we went out, we moved in together, we got married," Sarah shrugged. "But I had doubts too. No, we didn't accidentally get pregnant, or just carry on blindly without ever talking about anything," she shot us both looks and Libby hastily opened her steel box of remains that she'd pulled earlier from the fridge. Uh-huh, sure girl, like you could pretend that we're doing actually work here. "But no matter what your circumstances are, relationships are tough. They take work. Emma, I love you like a mama hen loves her baby chicks, but you gotta talk to the boy."
I sighed, handing the now half-empty bottle of wine back to Sarah. "Any chance I can just carry on pretending that I still have a flat to go back to if this all goes south?"
"EMMA."
"I take it that's a no?" I said, hastily.
"JUST TALK TO HIM, holy shit woman," Sarah said, throwing her hands in the air.
"I'm not gonna dispute that, but also just letting you know that I think we can probs lift the Code Blue now," I mentioned lightly, and Libby snorted, flicking her wand to unlock the lab door. "You know, I think I've actually forgotten what our other codes were and whether I even picked the right one."
"It goes Code Blue, Code Red, then Code Black," Libby answered without even looking up. "I believe we defined Code Blue as 'emotionally, my life is going balls up and I need my girls'. Code Red is 'I fucked up, or someone else did, and now I need immediate assistance'. We save Code Black for 'I'M DYING'."
"I dunno, maybe I did pick the wrong code …"
"Emma," Libby snorted over her remains. "Literally, listen to Sarah the Love Goddess! Talk to the boy about your relationship, or I will stab you with this fossilised femur."
I didn't doubt that. I watched as Libby started compiling notes on her external exam of the newest remains sent to the lab, while Sarah discovered that she'd accidentally left the recording of her own autopsy going the entire time. "I'll erase that," she told me hastily, prodding the device with her wand that would rewind back to before I'd come in screaming Code Blue. My girls were beautiful, amazing souls, but they both thought this was so damn simple! TALK TO HIM? I mean, I know I had to give my landlord an answer literally by tomorrow, but still.
HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TALKING TO FRED WEASLEY ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP?
"Emma, you might wanna get to work," Libby pointed out eventually. "Director Gale will have ya by the balls if your team doesn't find that missing shipment!"
"I'm scheduled for assisting today, someone else can handle that colossal fuck up," I waved a hand dismissively.
"I still can't believe you guys managed to lose an entire shipment, how does that even happen?" Sarah laughed.
"It wasn't me who was in charge!" I insisted for about the tenth time. "It was fuckin' Lila, she's the one who got the boot."
"Did they actually fire her?" Sarah asked, looking up. "Shiiiiit."
"I KNOW," I said. "I mean, she was a bitch, but bitch got stuff done."
"Who knows, maybe you'll get promoted now," Sarah pointed out with a grin.
Libby was the one who scoffed. "Not bloody likely, since you're still just hanging out by my autopsy table. This doesn't count as 'assisting' by the way," she added, waving her wand for emphasis. "Hell, James could do a better job than you and he's terrified of dead things."
"Oh, look, have you seriously ever had an in-depth conversation about your feelin's with Fred Weasley?" I grumbled.
"You'd be surprised!" Libby mentioned. "I remember we had a real heart-to-heart at the top of the London Eye, once."
"What, when was that?" I asked, amused at the thought.
"Oh, it was before he met you, I think," Libby wrinkled her nose. "Maybe two years ago now? James was forcing us to hang out because he wanted us to like each other. Fred told me that he never wanted a relationship and he was perfectly fine with it."
"That makes me feel better."
"It should!" Sarah called over.
"Yeah," Libby agreed. "Think, that was two years ago and look where he's at now. He's basically cohabitating with his serious girlfriend and is apparently completely happy with it!"
"Whoa, ok, that's just a whole bunch of labels I couldn't even begin to go near," I grimaced.
"You couldn't?" Libby raised an eyebrow. "Or you won't because you're afraid that Fred couldn't?"
I'd made a joke out of Libby's accusation.
Like haha, it's ok, we don't need no commitment up in here, I'm too busy trying to focus on the whole 'living together' concept! I managed to swing the conversation back to work and the day had carried on like normal. We all did our jobs and we all went home at the end of it, but come on. Of course I was afraid! If I didn't fear that it would send Fred running for the bloody hills of Africa, of course I'd be calling him my boyfriend. Or partner or some other term that fit, because I'm 27 for crying out loud, I deserve something more committed at this age! But as long as he refused to address anything, so did I, because we all know what happens when I push.
He throws up a brick wall.
I actually remember a time I nearly called him my boyfriend in public. It was the most mundane thing I've ever done, just food shopping hastily on a Wednesday night because there were several things we'd run out of and I had yelled as I was leaving for work that morning if there was anything he wanted. I'd stood amongst the dairy shelves at the supermarket and asked an employee where the soy milk was.
"I'm afraid we don't have many options for soy at the moment, our suppliers are renegotiating deals," the employee had admitted. "Are you vegan? Because I think we have rice or nut milk which would work–"
"Oh no, it's fine," I'd simply waved a hand. "We can drink regular milk, my–"
My boyfriend's just being picky.
I, of course, had awkwardly cut myself off mid-sentence. The employee noticed, but bless 'em, didn't say anything, just smiled and carried on their job like normal. Meanwhile, I had stood amongst the milk, quite possibly having an emotional breakdown, because HAHAHAHAHAHA.
WHAT DID I JUST CALL HIM?!
I had never been more struck than in that moment that I was in a fucking relationship. I was in an honest to god, sex and affection, sharing groceries and toothbrushes sat next to each other kind of relationship! For the first time since Mark, I had actually let myself be at the complete mercy of someone else. I had been 100% prepared to be perpetually single for the longest time after him, as there was no way I was letting myself get taken in by yet another manipulative asshat, and we all know how good at one night stands I am. But then I had met Fred and … he was it. He was the one I was buying groceries for on a Wednesday after work. I was going to go home after this to his flat, where now we apparently both lived! THIS WAS A FUCKING RELATIONSHIP.
Hell, I don't think Fred even realises it.
But I can't completely discredit him. I'd had way too many of my own meltdowns to do that. As I mentioned, I know I come off as the sane one on the outside, but on the inside I promise ya that 90% of the time I was a seething mess of terrified panicking! What if he never even cared? What if I pushed too hard and he ran? What if he never loved me? What if, what if, what if, and that's not even considering my Mark Issues! I tried to not talk about him anymore because honestly, I REALLY didn't need that shit coming up again. But every now and then his face would stupidly pop up and I'd remember oh, that's right, the last time I did this, I'd gotten well and truly Fucked Over and Jesus Christ, surely I wasn't doing this to myself again? Fred had never pressed for the whole story, and I adored him for it, but what if he suddenly did, one day? There was no way I could say no, but there was also no way I wanted to tell Fred what had exactly happened.
Because if I did, he would know. He would know how sucked in I got, how far gone I'd been, and he'd ask the typical questions that literally anyone who found out would ask: 'Why didn't you leave him sooner?' 'How could you not tell what he was doing to you?' 'WHY DID YOU STAY?'
(I mean, I knew he wouldn't. I knew that Fred would never be that person, but a part of me still feared).
You want to know why I didn't leave him sooner?
Because the bloke was fucking NORMAL at first. That's always how it starts! We met and it was instant sparks. Butterflies. I was 23 and I'd just finished Cursebreaker training. I was excited, I was starting a new leg in my life, I mean come on. He must have realised what an easy target I was because it didn't take long for things to go downhill.
The thing is, you never notice at first. It starts small. 'You should wear the blue dress, babe, I love you in that one,' sounds harmless, until you realise that you never wear what you want. You wear what he wants. And if he doesn't like it, you take it off. 'It's ok, babe. I get you had a bad day. Your boss might hate you, but I love you,' sounds nice, but it's actually fucking dangerous. Eventually, it's not just your boss – everyone hates you. Even your friends. Even your siblings. But it's ok, because he loves you and that's all that matters. You come to depend on him, and then you want to depend on him. You love him, he's your whole world and you don't even notice how toxic it is, how closed off you've become and how you never even see your friends anymore and you don't know why your brother is sending you an owl saying,
I'm coming round to talk to you tonight. Don't tell Mark.
But eventually, that did happen. It took a year. A year of slowly sinking away and becoming a shell of the Emma Terry I once was. I had absolutely no idea why I was so sad all the time, why I could never bring myself to enjoy anything anymore, why it felt difficult to breathe whenever I went home to our flat. My older brothers, Ben and Peter, had watched in astonishment that night, realising that I was the one who was cleaning the place, who cooked every night, and that I had absolutely no idea why. I hadn't even noticed that they'd picked a night that Mark was out until they'd sat me down and said,
"Emma, Mark is killing you."
I'd blinked slowly. "What?"
"Not like …" my brothers had sat either side of me, Peter squeezing my shoulders as Ben spoke. "Ems, we haven't seen you in months. You never talk to us, hell, Mum and Dad don't even know where you're living!"
"I'm sorry, you know I suck at staying caught up–"
"No, you don't," Ben had cut in. "Emma, you are the one who bombards us all with owls, wanting to meet up. The last time we saw you was Christmas, and you nearly didn't go to that either!"
"I'm sorry, I'm just … I haven't been feeling that great lately and I just … I suck, I'm sorry …"
I'd truly felt that way. To me now, I want to kick myself because how could I honestly think feeling that way was normal, that it was just something I needed to accept and live with? My brother's had exchanged looks over my head, which had annoyed me, but it had also brought a spark to life because that's something they used to do all the time. I … I guess I hadn't seen it in a while.
I'd missed my brothers.
And they hadn't been afraid of saying it like it was.
"Look Emma, it's Mark," Peter had said furiously. "He is a dickhead, and he's manipulating you. You need you leave him, and you need to leave him now."
Shocked hadn't covered it. Imagine someone you love and trusted, your older brother who always did his best to protect you, suddenly telling ya that the most important person in your life was an arsehole who was treating you like shit? You don't believe them, right? Because that's exactly what I'd felt.
(Blimey, 23-year-old Emma).
I know not to blame myself now, but it had taken a long time before I stopped. Naturally, I'd blown up at my brothers. I hadn't believed a word they said. No, Mark was kind, he was good to me, he looked after me and I loved him, damn it! But don't worry, it didn't take long after that. Now that I had the idea, I started seeing that no, it wasn't ok when he told me, 'I love you so much baby, but do that again and I will hurt you. I'm kidding!' I realised that I suddenly had all these expectations to uphold and I had no idea where they'd all come from. I had to do this, I had to do that, I was expected to be pretty and nice and calm and never question him, don't ask him where he's been, or why an owl from someone called Felicity accidentally got mixed in with our mail.
No, it wasn't right.
It wasn't ok.
I never would have gotten out if it weren't for my brothers. A month after they'd tried to talk to me, I'd eventually gone to them, breaking down and crying and telling them how sorry I was. They'd hugged me, like big brothers do, and they'd promised that they'd help. I started seeing a therapist then, and if I'm being totally honest here, I only finally stopped seeing her a couple of weeks before I met Fred. Although, considering the drama there, I probably could've done with staying! Oh, Nancy. Woman was my saviour. Which reminds me, I gotta send her a gift basket one of these days.
Anyway, eventually I was strong enough to leave.
Ben and Peter helped me do it. Thing is, I think Mark noticed that I had finally caught on to what he was doing, because while before he could be gone for hours, even days at a time and I'd never question it, he suddenly switched to the opposite. He wouldn't leave me alone, even for a second. He'd pick me up from work, he'd drop me off, he was always there. Quite frankly, I was scared of his reaction. But my brothers and I picked a day, and they'd determinedly marched in with boxes and a suitcase in hand.
Sometimes I remember with glee the look on Mark's face when they had just launched into the flat and started packing my things for me. He'd tried to convince me to stay, he'd said literally everything, but the entire time I said nothing back. Eventually, he'd started yelling. Said fine, I can go, I've never needed you anyway, I have someone else who understands me more, she loves me more than you, blah, blah … honestly, I'd ceased to care at that point. The three of us had left and I had never looked back.
You know, I think the first thing I'd done once Ben and Peter had taken me back to my real home was sitting down and eating ice cream from the carton.
And that was when I'd realised that I hadn't eaten ice cream for over a year.
"I'm not stoppin', I'm not here!" I called out, just in case Fred was home. I quickly dashed for our bedroom, intent on just shedding my work clothes before hastily heading out again, but I'd barely gotten my robes off before I realised that Fred was unfortunately home already.
He glanced up in amusement from where he was apparently cleaning out the wardrobe. If there was only one thing that I couldn't fault him for, it was that the boy certainly did know how to clean! I paused a moment, taking in his newly cropped dark hair, the slightly-too-small t-shirt and jeans over what I knew was a ridiculously good-looking body and YIKES, GIRL. Blimey, my head was getting waaaay too full of sentimental bullshit to be thinking clearly, here!
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.
"Nope, ignore me, I'm not here!" I said quickly, dumping my robes onto the floor before starting to undo my shirt. "I'm just gettin' changed and heading out again – don't watch me!"
"Wait, why can't I watch you?"
"Because I know you, and I don't want to end up bent over that bed there, I got no time for that shit," I warned.
Fred just rolled his eyes, sitting back on the floor and not taking his eyes off me. Bastard. "When does that ever happen?"
"Shut up," I just continued stripping, throwing my shirt at him as I went to find clothes in the drawers that belonged to me because OH, THAT'S RIGHT, I LIVE HERE NOW. He pulled the shirt off his head, watching me as I yanked out the first set of clothes I could find.
"So what's the hurry?" he asked.
"Said I'd visit Mum and Dad, but work ran late."
"Found that missing shipment yet?"
"Like hell have they," I snorted. "but get this, there's talks about promoting someone else since Lila got fired over it."
"They fire people over lost mummies?"
"We're serious about our mummies."
"Reckon you'll get it?" Fred grinned as I jumped into a pair of jeans. I wrinkled my nose at the thought.
"Nah, why would they promote me?"
"'cause you're brilliant?" Fred tossed out. "Or, I dunno, you look hot in that uniform? C'mon, Emma, why wouldn't they?"
I paused in pulling my top over my head. Fred Weasley was many, many things – over-confidant, emotionally stunted, disgusting, loud, and idiotic, to name a few – but unwaveringly supportive was something that didn't get pointed out often enough. Bloody Merlin, Fred. See, THIS was how I'd ended up here! This had been one of the reasons I'd fallen for him in the first place. Fred had clearly come a long way from the barbarian I'd first met. I mean, let's face it, I'd probably had a crush from the moment he first asked me who I was hiding from, but it had been a couple of weeks into casually sleeping together – you know, back when he was a slut, and I was a disaster– when I'd first started to realise who this man actually was and what, exactly, I'd gotten myself into.
You have bad days. But then there are shitty days, and I'd had the shittiest of them all at one point. After debating for hours over whether to simply use him as an outlet or not (like, wasn't that the whole point of sleeping with him? Don't think, JUST DO ITTTT) I'd eventually owled and naturally fucked him senseless. He hadn't questioned it, he hadn't pried, but instead had silently rolled over and let me have the entire pillow until I was ready to leave. I'd just stared at him in that moment. He could claim to have no soul, and sometimes I agreed with him, but he clearly had a heart somewhere in there and that's when I'd first thought:
Ohhhh, shit, I am in SO much trouble …
I think Fred caught the look on my face, because he was slowly grinning. Orrrr maybe it was because I was still standing there without a top on and a gormless expression. I hastily span around, pulling the t-shirt over my head. "Before you head out, though," he said as I moved to grab a jacket. "I talked to Rose and Scorpius today, they're cool with us having our birthday party finally this weekend!"
"Still set on it being in their building, huh?" I asked.
"Naturally."
"And you're still not gonna tell me why?"
He just shrugged. "I'm surprised you haven't already guessed, to be honest."
Oh, I could hit him. Make me all intrigued when I had somewhere to be, the nerve of that boy! "Hey, quit with the bullfuckery, I told you that I haven't got the time right now!" I warned, shoving my feet back into my shoes.
"But you will later?" he grinned.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
I sighed. "No, I don't. I'll see ya later."
See, sometimes he makes it so easy! He's flirty and charming and makes you forget the fact that on the inside, he's probably screaming like he just got run-through with a lightsaber … or maybe that was me, HA. While my parents had owled recently hoping to see me, it was actually my baby sister who I was hoping to catch at home. I know, I know, one's 18-year-old sister didn't exactly sound like much help, but girl had heard the entire fucking story by this point. She knew shit. I hastily yelled out hi to Mum and Dad as I arrived in the fireplace, but I was quick to slam into the childhood bedroom that I had once been forced to share with my sister during the holidays back when I still lived at home.
"Good god, you look like shit," Katie laughed.
"Don't even start," I warned her. "I need your help – wait – is that a laptop?"
"I got it today!" Katie grinned, scooping up the far too shiny Muggle device reverently, like it was a baby or something. "I've been savin' all year for this! If I'm gonna go to Muggle university, I figured I better prepare for it, so I've been teaching myself how to use it without accidentally making it malfunction. LOOK! You can play games!"
"I'm aware," I said, pushing the laptop out from under my nose. "You've seriously made up your mind, then? You're goin' to do teaching?"
"I think so, yeah," Katie said, happily. "Early childhood. If I get in, at least. I applied to lots of places, but there's still a couple in London I haven't heard back from. I was a bit late applying, after all."
"You'll get something, I swear, baby sis."
"Thanks, big sis," Katie yanked me down onto her tiny bed. Putting her laptop aside (and ignoring the weird whining sound it made when it was placed next to her wand on her bedside table) my sister gave me an odd look. "So why are you here, bein' all weird then, huh?"
"Why am I ever here?"
Katie grinned. "Another chapter in the Fred saga! I'll never tire of this."
"Never fall in love, Katie."
"Don't plan on it, not after listenin' to you," she snickered. "So go on, what's happened this time?"
Thank the lord I was close with my sister. Look, I love my mum and all, but we weren't like, talk about stuff kind of close. Katie, however … Katie got me. There was a 9 year age gap between us, Katie had grown looking up to me, and I probably told her way too many things that I shouldn't, but I didn't want to ever let her down. I wanted her to hear the stupid things I did, because hell, you never know, just maybe she might learn something from them. She hadn't known the full story about Mark at the time, but I'd eventually told her because I didn't want my baby sister to ever find herself in a similar situation. I wanted her to be able to recognise emotional abuse when she saw it. I matched her position sitting cross-legged in front of me and attempted to explain how the hell I'd ended up here.
Katie's face, however, got more and more disbelieving as I went on. "Hang on," she eventually cut in, holding up a hand. "what exactly do you want me to say, here? 'cause like … Ems, sweetie…"
"Don't you Ems, sweetie me," I grumbled.
"Well, who cares that you're freaking out?" she just shrugged. "So you live together now, haven't you guys been doin' that ever since you got together again? Hell, you've been through worse shit than this!"
"The issue to be addressed here, dear sister," I pointed out. "Is how to talk about something emotional with someone who goes into Panic Mode at the first sign of emotions."
"It's not like it has to be a long conversation," Katie said, exasperatedly.
"Well, all I can think of so far is killing him so that I don't have to do it, so you better have a better idea."
"I think society frowns upon murder, Emma."
"Gee," I muttered. "had no idea. Katie, I'm serious, you've got to help me out here–"
"Just catch him by surprise! Rip off the plaster," she cried. "Honestly, it can't be that hard."
Can't be that hard, she says! Does she not remember what happens whenever Fred and I actually explicitly talk about our feelings? IT TURNS INTO AN UNMITIGATED DISASTER, THAT'S WHAT. I grumbled under my breath until suddenly, Katie seemed to get an idea. She basically crawled over me to leap across her room and grab a pen and notepad from her desk, and I watched her in bewilderment until she was jumping down in front of me again. "I've got it!" she said, clicking the pen. "The first step here is telling your landlord that you're not renewing, right? So let's do that right now–"
"What? Katie, noooooo–" I whined.
"Hey," She booped me on the nose with her pen. "If I don't make ya do it, you'll end up paying rent on a flat that you don't live in for the rest of your given life. I'm helpin' ya out! C'mooooon."
I watched her in a huff for a moment. "It's just writing a letter, right?"
"Just a letter," Katie nodded, enthusiastically. "Don't think about the next step yet, Ems. You can do this, at least!"
My heart was hammering so hard it was almost painful, but I reluctantly took the notepad and pen from my sister. With her help, we slowly drafted a quick letter that if I didn't think too hard about, wasn't that difficult to do:
To Mr Harrison,
As per your request, this letter is to inform you that I do not wish to renew my tenancy for the upcoming year. As our lease officially ends on the 30th August 2031, I will ensure that I am completely moved out by then.
(Thank you, Sam, for putting up with me for the last couple of years. Char and I will miss you!)
From Emma Terry, flat 16.
"So what's the next step?" I asked, reluctantly.
Katie grinned. "You send it."
"HAHAHA. Right, ok," I said.
"EMMA," Katie complained. But she jumped to her knees then, a rather evil look on her face. "Actually, ok. If you won't send it, then we skip to the next stage."
"Which is?"
"YOU TELL HIM."
"On second thoughts, I think I'll send the letter first," I said hastily, snatching said letter out of my sister's hands.
"Mmm, thought you might," Katie smirked. That was about when she tackled me in a hug, that made me yelp and sent us sprawling together across Katie's bed. "I love ya, sis."
"Yeah, you are fuckin' heavy," I said in reply.
Katie didn't seem to care. She refused to budge from where she was practically on top of me and I rolled my eyes a little before indulging her. She was an annoying ray of sunshine, my Katie. Eventually, she rolled off me so that we laid side by side, staring up at the cracked and dirty ceiling together. After a moment of comfortable silence, I teased,
"I'm surprised you're not heartbroken, Katie. Aren't you a little in love with Fred?"
"Maybe, but he totally couldn't handle me," she laughed. She paused then, however and in a slightly more serious voice, she added, "Ems … what's it like being in love?"
Hoo boy.
"Like you're consistently being hit in the stomach with a hammer, but you're happy about it?" I tried. "I dunno, Katie … it's probably different for everyone. It's terrifyin' but it also feels good, you know?"
"Are you glad you met him? Y'know, after everything."
"Yeah, I am," I admitted. "Really … I am."
If sending the letter was the first step, I didn't want to get to the next one!
I might have just spent the rest of the entire day sitting and staring at said letter if my sister hadn't practically frog-marched me out of her bedroom and forced me to send it. Our family owl thankfully wasn't completely barmy like Ravi, but that unfortunately meant I had a much higher success rate of the letter actually getting delivered safely.
"Any chance it might get lost in transit?" I'd asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
But shit mate, I did it! I watched that letter fly out the window and an entire weight simultaneously lifted off my shoulders and knocked me flat. It was gone, there was no going back now! No changing my mind, this was it, I was moving out. Look, I know that I could feasibly write on that tax form that this was my new address now and just literally never mention it to him. Like, it would honestly be so easy! Fred, the ridiculous bugger, would probably only finally catch on in something like ten years from now and by that time, it would have been so long that there was no point in getting worked up. See? These plans take time, but if you commit –
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding.
I had to tell him. I owed him that much. The thought rang through my head the entire night, to the point where I honestly thought I might need to hit myself over the head with that aforementioned hammer just to get me to sleep! Eventually, somewhere around four in the morning, I gave up and lay curled on my side, watching the back of Fred's head as he remained blissfully in Unconscious Land. It was actually good to see him sleeping so deeply, now that I thought about it. He'd been having trouble since his dad died. Normally I was the one who accidentally woke him with kicks and elbows in faces, but there had been way too many times when I'd been woken in the middle of the night from his sudden jerking awake, gasping and sweating. But I realised that he was having more peaceful nights than restless ones these days. He was slowly getting somewhere.
I held my breath as he suddenly rolled over, my heart jacking up into my throat, but thank the maker, he was still asleep. Oh, shitballs, how was I ever going to say this? Maybe I could just cuddle him so I didn't have to look at him? HA. An Emma from many months ago might've disregarded that idea immediately (we all know how good at cuddling he is) but we were both older and wiser now. I mean, fine, truth was that Fred Weasley would never exactly be a cuddler at heart. It didn't come naturally to him and that was ok, but that didn't mean he hated it either, right? It might've taken him weeks to get used to it, but he had ploughed through the uncomfortable mess it had turned him into solely because he knew I enjoyed it and if that didn't say something, I didn't know what did.
If he could go through all that, if he could let himself fall in love after all this time, then I could bloody well have a grown up conversation with him and tell him that I lived with him now.
Slowly, I moved over until my back was pressed against him. His breath was hot against my neck and I moved his arm over me until he was stirring and clenching it tighter himself. "Emma?" he murmured, blearily. "What time is it?"
"Early. Sorry, I couldn't sleep."
He sighed into my hair. "Why?"
All right, Emma Terry. Here is where you harden the fuck up and just DO IT!
He had to feel my heart racing in my chest, but thankfully didn't say anything. Before I could lose whatever nerve I had left, I choked out,
"My lease is up at my old flat."
For a long moment he didn't say anything, and I naturally died a thousand and one deaths in that time. Of course, all he ended up answering with was a sleepy,
"Oh?"
"Yeah …" Christ, Emma, you can do this. Thirty seconds of being a grown up! JUST TELL HIM! "So I figured I'd – I'd make this place my official address. If – if – … shit, if that's ok …"
Lay me down to die.
I'm tellin' ya, I was expecting literally anything in response. This is the guy who threw up after telling me he loved me, for crying out loud! I was imagining everything here, from crying, to hauling arse and fleeing for Scotland, but I am not fucking kidding ya when I say that what he actually did do was shrug a little and say,
"Yeah, of course."
Yeah, of course.
OH MY GOD.
My heart might've still been going far too fast for what was considered normal (I maaay have to get Rose to actually check me out later) but incredibly, that was when I finally felt the tension of the last few days lift. It was almost like a physical change in which OH, look at that, I could breathe again! My breath came out in a long whoosh and suddenly I could hear a frown in his voice as Fred asked,
"Wait. Is that why you've been acting so bloody weird the last few days?"
"You noticed," I muttered, dryly.
"How could I not?" Fred's arm squeezed me a moment, before tugging at my hip. He rolled me over onto my back and the look on his face was the same one I got whenever I kissed him or did something stupid. It was the look that said I'm in utter awe of you. "Emma … fuck, I've had a lot on my mind, I didn't even think–"
"It's fine," I insisted. "Seriously! Now, if you don't mind, this had been a lot for my poor ol' heart to take, so if you don't want to send it further into shock, I'm just gonna turn back around and pretend to sleep until the alarm goes off. 'kay?"
I didn't give him the option. I just hastily turned back onto my side and tried to stop the tears of delayed relief from leaking out (blimey, I didn't need tears right now, ok?!).
Fred just laughed and wrapped his arm tighter around me.
"You're incredible," he murmured.
A/N: DID I SERIOUSLY JUST UPDATE LESS THAN 2 WEEKS AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER? O SHIT WHAT IS HAPPENING AHHDHDSHGS
Do yall remember when James first met Emma at the Cursebreaker gala? HAHA YEAH, if you'd told me that eventually, I'd be writing a fic chapter from HER FUCKING POV, I would have thought you were crazy. Emma Louise Terry wasn't supposed to be a main character at all, she was supposed to be a random work friend for one chapter but wHOOPS turns out I'm in love with her and now we're here folks, lol.
Anyway.
So our Emma isn't quite as Chill as she makes herself out to be and I spent most of my time writing this cackling to myself. I'm also glad that I got to share Emma's past history with Mark here. While it's in the past, it's still a significant part of what has shaped her as a person, and I think it's important to know to understand who she is. Note: not having suffered an emotionally abusive relationship myself, I did a lot of research. If anything mentioned doesn't sit right, please let me know. :)
Also, turns out that I couldn't do Emma justice in just one chapter, so BEHOLD, next chapter will be Emma's POV as well!
I HOPE YALL LIKED THIS, PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU LIKED IT!
I love yall!
Moon xoxo