Chapter Fourteen: You Absolute Moron.
Fred Weasley tapped his quill on his table impatiently, waiting for the last of his OWLs to be over with. Four seats in front of him, to the right, sat the woman of his affections. Her hair was in a bun at the top of her head, small tendrils of silver sat at the nape of her neck and blew slowly with the cool air in the Great Hall—which had been converted into the testing room. Her head was bent, but her back was straight. Her hand rushed to keep up with her mind and her muggle pen made sweeping motions with each determined thought. The red-headed Gryffindor had thought of nothing but Jamie Devereaux since her sixteenth birthday when she had snuck into his bedroom. He wish he hadn't delayed and just snogged her the second he saw her dark green eyes looking up in his. Fred had replayed the moment in his mind, willing past Fred to act faster, move quicker. Surely he should have known that catching Jamie again would take possibly another five years. He had held her in his arms, felt her against him and now he knows exactly what she would look like wrapped around him. But now she was avoiding him, jumping and exiting when he walked toward her.
Professor Flitwick announced that time was up, and Fred Weasley immediately got to his feet and walked over to the short little blonde. She was distracted with stretching her cramped hand from hours of writing intensely. He grabbed her bag that hung on the chair behind her and placed it on his shoulder. Dazed she stood up, as if not processing what had happened. When it dawned on her that he had her bag and now she would have to acknowledge him, Fred watched in fascination as a dark blush swept the tips of her cheeks.
Jamie Devereaux couldn't look in Fred's eyes. After having been so close to snogging him, and wanting to snog him, she didn't know how to act. The boy was her childhood rival, turned girlish crush. Now…she didn't know what to call Fred Weasley. It was no longer just a silly crush of staring at hands and imagining him kissing her. It had transformed into a sick addiction. If he breathed in the same room as her she felt his breath against her neck as he had reached around her and placed that hair tie in his collection. If he spoke to George at the Great Hall during breakfast, she heard his deep voice whispering 'Jamison'. Her reactions were unnatural and heightened and Jamie could only assume that it was thanks to her half male-Veela self that she felt this way. Him standing above her, looking down at her right now she felt as if she was back in his bedroom and his hand was tangled in her hair again. Every part of her experienced a chill and a flush of heat at the same time.
Jamie cleared her dry throat and looked at her sneakers with concentration, "Can I have my bag back?"
"No." Fred responded, still staring down at her, pleading for her eyes to meet his again. Around them, their classmates were fading out of the testing hall, talking loudly and with excitement. It was summer break, everyone would be headed home soon. Fred couldn't bring it in himself to be excited about this. All he could think about was not seeing Jamie Devereaux for two months. Giving her two months to get over her small crush, and two months for his deep infatuation to grow deeper. This was the only time he had. She was attracted to him, he knew this. If he didn't act now, she could be dating someone else soon or hating him again.
Jamie's head snapped up in annoyance at Fred's abrupt response, "It is my bag, Weasley. Give it back."
"Not until you talk to me." He responded, his voice genuine and a bit more emotional than he would have wanted. This was not what he imagined doing to get her to confess her feelings toward him.
The blonde's shoulders straightened and she turned her body away from him, "Fine, keep it for all I care." And with a sweep she joined the crowd of retreating students.
While she was short enough to squeeze through people, Fred had long legs and a lot of determination. By the time Jamie Devereaux had exited the Great Hall, Fred had caught up with her and taken her elbow in a loose grip with his large hand. He tugged her into an alcove and held his breath when he processed that she was pushed against him.
Jamie wanted to cry. She was on the verge of tears and hated that she couldn't stop it. The hate that she couldn't stop her sadness then made her angry. Angry at her stupid father and his stupid male Veela blood. If it weren't for him then maybe she would wrap her arms around Fred Weasley's neck and snog him until she couldn't breathe. But if she did that, she would catch feelings and then he would be persuaded in by her creature half. Jamie Devereaux could not be a typical sixteen year old girl. She could not have a crush on a boy. Her anger at herself and her situation was at such a height, she took it out on Fred. Jamie thought to herself, if she pushed him away so much that he stopped touching her and looking at her then she would be able to move on. It was the kind of irrational rationalization that only a teenage girl could make.
Fred's hand still loosely held her elbow when she attacked. He saw the tears in the corners of her eyes and recognized the sharpening appearance of her face. Jamie used both of her hands and pushed Fred as hard as she could. He was only moved back a few steps, but was shocked by the burst of anger that he saw, "Get away from me!" Jamie yelled, "Can't you see I don't want to be around you? Stop following me around! You think because I was in your room for a stupid game of Truth or Dare that I like you?" She hickuped as a sop escaped her, only making her glare harder at the red-head who was staring down at her in shock, "I wasn't there to steal something." She said, making up the lie as she went, knowing if someone said this to her she would never want to speak to them again, "Angelina and Alicia know you have a crush on me. So they dared me to go to your room and see how easy it would be to get you to kiss me. It was just a dumb game, it didn't mean anything to me." She tried to put a compelling spin in her words. Maybe that would make him believe it.
"Please, Devereaux, if you're going to lie, at least make it a good one." Fred retorted, looking down at her. His heart was picking up in speed, though. Fear that she was being honest started to creep up in him and he dreaded hearing anything else. He moved closer to her again. Fred felt the heat that reverberated off of her body and knew he was not imagining it. It was not one-sided. This stubborn, stubborn girl was his. And he was hers.
Jamie pushed him again, farther away from her. She couldn't stand him being so near, "It isn't a lie. Your little crush on me is getting so old, it's all Angelina and Alicia talk about. They thought if I snogged you it would be funny to see how you would start to act around me. Imagine their excitement when you still acted like a puppy dog and we hadn't even kissed." Jamie couldn't believe the words she was saying. It was out-of-body. She felt herself controlling her emotions and targeting them where she somehow knew would hit the most at Fred. Jamie was not certain that the red-head even had a crush on her. Suddenly all the male Veelas killing each other and fighting to the death rose to her mind. If this is what they did with their words and how their anger could control them, it made sense that they were basically extinct.
The Weasley boy's heart clenched hard in his chest as he heard the words. There was something strange behind them, and he couldn't help but think it was a lie. Or, at least, he hoped it was a lie. His heart hammered loudly in his ears. He looked down at her sharpened features, how the tears streaked down her face. Jamie's hands were clenched at her side and her chest was heaving as if she had just sprinted a mile. Fred removed Jamie's bag from his shoulder and placed it on the ground between them, not saying anything. What do you say when a girl you're in love with takes your heart and crushes it under her foot? You lie.
Fred forced a laugh out of himself. It sounded robotic, unnatural, "Well that's a relief. I was worried you had feelings for me, after the way you acted. I was just going to tell you I wasn't interested—but I guess you screaming about me being a puppy dog is one way to go." He smiled at her but Fred knew it wasn't meeting his eyes.
Jamie's shoulders relaxed slightly but dread overpowered her, "So you don't have a crush on me?"
Fred shook his head, "No. Sorry, Jamie. I need more than a pretty face, you understand though, neither of us are interested. So we can just go back to being semi-friends." He moved his hand as if to pat her shoulder, but then thought better of it, "Have a good summer." Fred said, lamely.
Jamie Devereaux Bruce watched as Fred Weasley's tall form ducked back into the hallway leaving her alone in the alcove with her slumped bag on the floor. Tears were pouring down her face now. She felt her entire body shake as emotion overpowered her. Dread knowing that he couldn't have lied to her and he genuinely meant it. 'I was worried you had feelings for me, after the way you acted.' How had she acted? Had she jumped him? Jamie had thought he was the one leading the interaction. What about the hair ties? Why would he have all of those if he didn't like her? How did any of it make sense? If he had been honest about not liking her, which he had to have been, then maybe he genuinely just had a fascination with her hair. Or had she imagined it? Jamie knew vodka did things to people's memories.
Red heat hit her cheeks and she slowly slid down to the floor, pulling her legs up close to her check and hiding her face. Maybe she had imagined it all. So her outburst hadn't even been necessary. How narcistic of Jamie, assuming Fred liked her and that she would have to be the one to turn him down due to her circumstances. It had been the other way around. Embarrassment and loathing was all Jamie could feel in that moment.
"You absolute moron." Jamie whispered to herself in her small hands. Tears blurred her vision.
The cold castle floor was hard against her backside and she numbly recognized that she had been sitting there for an hour, alone on the floor. Her heart hurt, her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. This was a million times worse than when she broke up with Kenneth. And Jamie and Fred Weasley had never even kissed.
Jamie wondered if it was her male-Veela blood making her feel this way. She had no idea, and the only person that could probably tell her was most likely in the Hufflepuff common room.
Molly Weasley stared at her middle child with concern. Fred had been back from Hogwarts for a month and he was not at all his usual care-free self. Molly watched as he moved around the Burrow like a ghost, only being somewhat himself when he and George were making awful sounding explosions come from their bedroom. Every time the concerned mother tried to talk to Fred, he would just shrug her off with one of his wide shoulders and mumble something or another before stalking away. Even Ginny was being kinder to Fred than usual, not berating him or making fun of his attitude.
Finally, not being able to handle it any longer, Molly turned to her only daughter and dragged her into the small laundry room that was stacked with clothing. "What is wrong with Freddie?"
Ginevra Weasley met her mother's eyes and then let her gaze flick to her usually happy-go-lucky older brother. Fred was hunched over a plate of food, his eyes unfocused. He played with the vegetables that decorated his full serving. Ginny took a breath and looked back at her mum, "He's in love with a girl that hates him."
Loren Bruce was at a loss for ideas. Her daughter had been practically a different human since getting home from her fifth year at Hogwarts. All Jamie Devereaux seemed to do was read and re-read The Vanishing of Veela Men and stare into space. Even when the mother and daughter pair watched movies and TV shows, when a funny moment would happen, Jamie would hardly crack a smile. When Jamie had turned down her mother's brownies, Loren had finally had enough.
She slammed open her daughter's bed room, allowing the door to hit the wall with a loud vibration. The room looked like a depression bomb had gone off in it. There were clothes strewn around, her dark green and brown trunk wide open and still unpacked. None of Jamie's pillows were on her bed. She laid on top of her light blue comforter on her stomach. She hadn't even looked up at the noise of Loren entering her room. She stared down at the book that seemed to be attached to her hands, reading it with unfocused eyes. Only when Loren grabbed the book and threw it against the wall in a dramatic sweep did Jamie look up. The little Bruce didn't even seem upset that her book had been thrown. It was as if even that much emotion was impossible for her to conjure.
"Yes?" Jamie asked, looking at her mother blankly.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Who are you and what have you done to my daughter? If you try to blame this on the fact that you are half Veela so help me you better have Child Protective Services on call because I will slap you." Loren exclaimed, letting all her frustration at her best friend and daughter out at once.
Jamie Devereaux Bruce sat up and let her legs dangle over the side of her bed. She took a deep breath and met her mother's eyes. There were unshed tears in her dark green eyes, "I really like a boy and he doesn't like me back. But that's good because I can never be with anyone or ever fall in love because if I do I will accidentally use this stupid compulsion I have over people on them and then they'll never trust me."
Loren picked up a pillow that was lying on the ground and started hitting her daughter with the light, fluffy thing. "I. Can't. Believe. I. Raised. An. Idiot." The older Bruce woman said in-between the thwacks of the pillow hitting her daughters arm.
Jamie grabbed the pillow back from her mom and threw it behind her, "What was that for!?"
"That was for you feeling sorry for yourself for a month and taking away from my time with my daughter." Loren responded, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow disapprovingly at her little girl.
The blonde glared in response, "I am not feeling sorry for myself. I am right. Mum, if you read the book you would understand. Even McGonagall thinks so." She took a deep, shaky breath, "Male Veelas are dangerous and vicious and conniving and they use people's emotions against them without even really intending to. Professor McGonagall is trying to help me control it, but everything I try isn't working. I don't understand anything about myself, and neither does anyone else! Because Male Veelas haven't procreated with anyone other than a full Veela in recorded history. I'm a bloody creature and have Professor Dumbledore watching my every move because he thinks I could be useful to him in the future." Tears were lightly pouring down her cheeks now, "and Fred Weasley told me I was just a pretty face."
Loren Bruce's original pillow attack was long forgotten to the mother. She wrapped her arms around her daughter who, despite being her same size, went in willingly. The two Bruce women sat on the messy bed, in the demolished room, and let the emotions of the small sixteen year old immerse the room. Loren tried to understand, truly. But, not only was she not a witch, she didn't quite understand what being part Male Veela meant. Primarily because Loren did not want to learn about Devereaux being more creature than human. Her jokes disguised her true feeling of dread and confusion. The only thing Loren could help her daughter with were the boy problems.
Stroking Jamie's long, blonde hair, Loren whispered soothing words of comfort and reassurance. How there would be so many other boys and how one day one would love her because of her fire-y attitude and incredible wit. How her future husband was out there, somewhere, maybe crying over a girl that had broken his heart. "Boys are idiots, James. They always have been and always will be." She kissed Jamie's forehead fondly.
Jamie just laid there, silently in her mother's arms. Her eyes were puffy. She had never been much of a crier, and her eyes were still adjusting to the constant presence of tears that she had been experiencing since after her OWLs.
"There is good news though!" Loren said after a while of silence, "There is one boy in your life that will never steer you wrong and always be there for you. Cedric sent you an owl this morning."
When Jamie read the letter, her first genuine smile split across her face in weeks, "He invited me to the Quidditch world cup!"