(Chapter 7) The Emperor
It was difficult to say who was having a worse Saturday morning: Harry Potter or Wren.
On the one hand, three quarters of the school were sporting "Potter Stinks" badges and the Daily Prophet had just published another one of That Woman's articles, this time on Harry and Hermione Granger's supposed romance.
On the other, Wren had spent most of her morning hovering outside Ravenclaw Tower, asking students to let Simon know she was out there. Each had returned with the message that her boyfriend was too busy with homework. On a Saturday.
Wren was fairly close to giving up hope that she would see him before lunch. It seemed unlikely that he'd change his mind about seeing her if he'd been unwilling to come out for even five minutes in the past two hours. Still, Wren found herself steeling herself up to ask one more student before she gave up and took out her own work to pass the time between now and lunch.
The door swung open and a trio of very pretty blondes with light colored eyes stepped out into the hall. They had just about made it past Wren, when the one farthest from her stopped, pulling back from the group.
"Wren?" Wendy Fairchild asked, a tentative confusion clear in her voice.
It was decided. Wren was having the worst Saturday in all of Hogwarts.
"Hi Wendy," Wren said, pushing her voice up into a breezy politeness despite the fact that her stomach clenched with uneasiness.
"Waiting on Simon? I think he should be about done with his chess match," Wendy said, looking over her shoulder and towards the closed door.
Wren offered a tight smile even as her heart sank. Wendy's eyes narrowed lightly at Wren as they seemed to scan her face.
"I'll go get him."
Wren shook her head. "It's fine. I can wait f-"
Wendy cut off her sentence with a hand on Wren's shoulder.
"Wren," she said, chidingly. "Pretty girls shouldn't have to wait." She withdrew her hand and turned to the door. "Especially for their boyfriends."
She was quickly answering the riddle and through the door before Wren could manage a response, let alone figure out what had just happened.
In the new quiet of the hallway, Wren's eyes slid over to Wendy's friends who, while wearing Potter Stinks badges, seemed perfectly content talking to one another and waiting on Wendy. Neither one spared Wren a second glance, and rather than having a hushed conversation, Wren very clearly heard snippets of their plans for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.
When the door opened again, Wendy was leading a broody looking Simon through. "You were toying with him, I had to finish it," she shrugged. "You and I both know you were only two moves away from winning when I left, and you easily could have taken his King with your Rook after he made that monstrous mistake." Simon didn't respond, but stopped a few feet away from Wren even as Wendy moved on to rejoin her friends. "Besides, it's clear you need to spend some time with your girlfriend," she said, turning to give him a significant look that had Wren feeling uneasy once more.
"Bye Wren," Wendy said, flashing her a smile.
"Bye," Wren echoed back, her eyes still on Simon as the sounds of Wendy and her friends' footsteps disappeared down the stairs.
"Really Wren? You got Wendy to drag me out here?" Simon asked, crossing his arms. His eyes bore into hers as he waited for her to explain herself, and Wren's stomach clenched at the expression.
Her eyes fell to her feet, unable to take much more. "I didn't ask her to do that," she muttered. "I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday.
A long silence stretched between them, as Wren waited for him to say something, anything to her. Some sort of sign that he was listening and willing to hear her out. But as the quiet stretched past the minute mark, it became clear he had no intention of speaking to her. Wren raised her eyes to meet his once more, and he lifted a single eyebrow at her.
"There's nothing going on between me and Fred or George. We're just in a lot of the same classes and became friends. I would never choose them over you-"
"Except you have. Repeatedly," Simon interrupted.
Wren blanched, her mouth moving to form words, but none came out. The accusation was so out of the blue that the only thing her brain seemed to be able to process was No, I haven't. "I-I just hang out with them when you're busy or if my dorm mates invite me along to something, and they're also there."
He scoffed, shaking his head, and Wren blinked at him. "Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in Fred or George or both, you'd realize that I've been trying to talk to you and spend time with you lately. Or maybe it's not them, maybe it's because you wanted to punish me."
"Punish you?" Wren echoed.
"First for asking you to do the right thing and not get involved in their Goblet of Fire schemes," he said, ticking off a finger. "Then you were punishing me for doing my prefect's duty of helping out people in my house who are struggling with their studies," he added. "And most recently, I don't even know what you're trying to punish me for, but you've succeeded in making me feel like absolute shite."
"Simon...I'm sorry," Wren blinked up at him, still fumbling around to find the right thing to say. "I wasn't trying to punish you-"
"Then why haven't you asked for more dates like you used to? Why haven't you even so much as waved at me when I'm out on the lawn with my friends? Instead you just go straight to the twins and their friends."
"Their my friends too," Wren said smally, running her hands up and down her arms before letting them come to rest on her elbows.
Simon's eyes blazed. "Then where have they been for the last six years?"
Wren was silent.
"Exactly. I've been there for you even when no one else was. I've stuck by you through the things you've done which would have made anyone else leave you. And now that you have shiny new friends, suddenly you're tossing me to the side like rubbish."
Tears sprung up behind Wren's eyes, blurring her vision as she attempted to blink them away. She'd been so wrapped up in the excitement of being a part of something, of being in that she hadn't even realized she'd been cutting Simon out. She hadn't even so much as seen him on the lawn when she went to sit with her friends. She hadn't even spared him a second thought when she let her afternoons and weekends be overrun with research for the Weasley Twins Sickly Sweets.
All of this time, she'd made Simon feel exactly like she felt at the beginning of the year. Except where he was busy with obligations and valid reasons to be a bit more absent than usual, she had chosen to busy herself with other people.
"I'm so sorry," Wren choked. "I didn't even realize-I'm so sorry."
The anger seemed to melt from his face as the first tear broke free, blazing a trail down Wren's cheek that other tears soon sighed, stepping forward to wrap her in his arms and lean his own cheek on top of her head.
"I just hate it when you let other people come between us. You have to remember Wren," he said, pulling back to lift her chin with his finger. "It's just you and me. No matter what anybody else says or thinks, it's always you and me."
Even as her tears slowed, guilt churned in her gut at his words. Because she remembered the look on Fred's face in the library. The unspoken accusation that she hadn't refuted as thoroughly as she could have. She remembered the teasing jabs at Simon that each of the boys made whenever he came up into conversation and how one Fred made had even made her smile. She remembered the way she felt when he praised her and asked her to participate in activities that pulled her away from her boyfriend.
And she remembered that not only had she let him, but she'd enjoyed herself.
"Just you and me," Wren nodded, lifting herself up to kiss Simon chastely on the lips. "I'll do better."
When Wren woke up to the sound of the dormitory door closing, she assumed that for the first time ever one of her dormmates was running as late as she did. It was only when she checked her watch that she realized the universe was perhaps coming to an end. That was the only possible explanation for why Wren would ever wake up before breakfast had even started.
And yet, judging by the clear skies outside and the general lack of shouting, the world was spinning on as usual. The only difference was that Wren arrived at breakfast in time to see Lee Jordan sitting down with the girls as Fred and George started to pile food onto unused plates. Usually the group was already well into a conversation by the time she got there, plates scraped almost clean and the seats around them filled with various other Gryffindor students. But today Wren had her pick of the surrounding seats, and she moved forward quickly to claim one, her lips already twitching at the prospect of the teasing she'd get for being awake and functioning at such a reasonable hour.
And then her stomach dropped.
Because this was exactly what Simon had been talking about. Her first instinct had been to sit with her friends and enjoy a slow breakfast with them for once. It should have been to eat her quick breakfast and spend her extra time with Simon at his table or waiting for him outside of the Ravenclaw tower to surprise him and walk him to class. It should have been, but it wasn't.
Wren veered to the empty section nearest to her and a good ways down from the group. She sat for a minute, staring blankly at her plate as if unsure how to commence breakfast on her own, before the tea thermos caught her eye. Wren reached for it eagerly, pouring herself some. Steam curled off the top of her cup, and she brought it up to her lips, inhaling deeply. Her mother had always sworn that a good cup of tea could solve all of a day's problems, and while Wren found the aphorism to be a little less than true, she did always feel as if her mum's tea was exceptionally good at warding off nagging feelings.
Of course, this wasn't her mother's tea. It wasn't even close. The Hogwarts House Elves had neither the time nor, probably, the desire to harvest the freshest herbs and flowers at the exact right time according to celestial charts.. Even if they did, she doubted they had her mother's carefully tailored recipe to create the perfectly balanced flavor.
Wren sipped at the tea, slowly, tenuously, and while it was distinctively not her mother's, the mere act of letting the drink roll over her tongue was soothing. Her mind seemed to whir back to life as she took another sip before setting her tea cup down.
Pulling a few pieces of toast onto her plate and slathering them with jam, Wren quickly began to eat, making up for the lost time she'd spent frozen trying to decide where to start. She was done with one piece of toast and halfway through the second before her eyes were pulled back to her friends down the table.
Judging from Alicia's gestures and Lee's half-asleep expressions, they seemed to be engaged in the usual light morning conversation, probably complaining about workloads and making plans for the day.
An aching pain-similar to the one she'd felt when deciding where to sit-filled her chest. It was a hollow sort of ache, leaving her feeling oddly empty as her gaze slid from face to face before catching on a pair of brown eyes. Fred raised an eyebrow at her, his lips tugging down into an almost frown. Wren offered a flickering smile and quick shake of her head before snapping her attention back to her toast.
She could really use her mother's tea right now.
And maybe even her mother too.
Not that her mother was particularly well versed in the situation Wren found herself in. While she wrote to her parents every week, relationship problems weren't something she discussed with either of them. They talked about dreams-the sleeping and the future kind, classes, plants, Quidditch matches, books, politics, and the fact that Wren had friends and a boyfriend, but rarely what she did with them. The social and relational aspects of Wren's life had always been Nora's realm before...well, before they grew up.
Wren took another long drink from her tea. These were not breakfast thoughts. These were the kind of thoughts that should have the decency to at least wait until classes were over before harassing her.
"Morning Wren," a warm voice greeted.
Wren lowered her cup, coming face to face with George Weasley. Next to him, Fred sat down with his half-finished plate of food. Wren's gaze slid to Fred, but he seemed to be preoccupied with getting himself something to drink, reaching across a second year without so much as a "Pardon me" to grab the orange juice.
"Morning," Wren said, eyes still on Fred as he topped his goblet off and set the pitcher down. She shifted her attention back to George, offering a smile.
"I'm afraid that Fred and I have come to ruin your quiet morning alone," George sighed. "We have business to discuss."
Curiosity scratched at her insides, its claws catching her heart and throat as it climbed its way up to an attempted escape, but Wren pushed it back down. Simon. Simon.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't going for a quiet breakfast, just a quick one since I have to meet Simon," she glanced at her watch. "Now."
"At 8:21?" Fred asked, and George shot him a look of confusion, whether at his challenging tone or the oddity of the time, Wren didn't know.
"I'm running late," she said, picking up the last bit of her second piece of toast and popping it in her mouth. "It was supposed to be 8:15. Can we talk at lunch?" She stood up from the table before waiting for a response, abandoning her unfinished breakfast.
Fred was still giving her that intent look but nodded. "Lunch then. We need that mind of yours to help us solve a problem with one of our investors."
Wren swallowed down the four questions immediately came to mind and instead nodded back at him. "Ok, then. See you at lunch."
She didn't.
Wren skipped lunch.
And when Professor Sprout asked for a volunteer to help Hilary Erskine, who had been sick the last week in the Hospital Wing and needed catching up, Wren's hand shot up so quickly that Fred let out a rather loud "Bloody hell, Wren!" The rest of the class had burst into laughter, and even Professor Sprout looked surprised at Wren's enthusiasm to help. Even so, she approved the partner swap, and allowing Wren to gather up her books and retreated to the furthest corner of the greenhouse from Fred.
It was only after the opportunity presented itself in Herbology that Wren realized she'd probably do best to change seats in her other classes as well. While Transfiguration was relatively safe because she sat next to Alicia, in Charms she had to promise to copy all of her notes for Angelina so she'd switch seats with Wren and sit next to George. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, she relocated to an empty desk behind Nora and Cedric who took turns shooting her confused and concerned looks throughout that first class. Cedric had even asked in Potions if she was alright, and Wren had assured him that she was fine, it was just simply too hard to concentrate on the professor while sitting close to Fred and George. And while that explanation, strictly speaking, was a lie, she did find it much easier to pay attention in class and slip back into her old habits the greater the distance she kept between herself and the twins.
While her actions had earned her some confused looks from her friends, classmates, and professors, they also seemed to have finally put her and Simon back on solid ground. He had softened back into his usual self and things were easy between them once more, which was enough to make Wren content. Mostly.
"Are you hungry?" Simon asked, and Wren jerked to face her boyfriend, blinking at him a few times as she attempted to process his question. He looked at her with a warm smile of amusement, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you just come back from?"
"Sorry, I was making a list of everything I needed from Scrivenshaft's," Wren smiled, sheepishly.
Simon laughed and shook his head at her fondly. "How can you possibly need new quills and stationary already? We've practically just started the year."
"Maybe need is the wrong word," Wren allowed, earning her another laugh. "But what did you ask?"
"Are you hungry?"
Wren nodded. Her stomach had started growling back when they were wandering the aisles of Honeydukes. That had been thirty minutes ago and the one chocolate frog she'd eaten had done little to satiate her.
"Where do you want to go?" Simon asked, lightly swinging their hands as they walked. "Madame Puddifoots? The Three Broomsticks? Back to the castle?"
"The Three Broomsticks?" Wren proposed, looking up at her boyfriend for confirmation.
"Perfect, I could go for a Butterbeer," he said, squeezing her hand.
"Me too," Wren agreed, leaning into him, and Simon pressed a kiss into the top of her head.
This was the way things had always been with Simon. When it was just the two of them, the way things were supposed to be, it was hard to imagine having anything better. He was thoughtful and attentive and so sweet Wren didn't know what she'd done to ever deserve him.
"You grab us a table, and I'll go get the drinks," Simon suggested, and Wren nodded, releasing him so she could scour the pub for an open table. Although, it didn't take much work. A group of Hufflepuff third or fourth years caught her looking around and offered up their table in the front of the pub by the window. While there were still rings from their mugs and smudges of ketchup and bits of chips on the table, Wren was grateful it was so easy given the fact that it was prime lunch hour. Wren glanced at her watch to check the exact time. 12:47.
Her chest felt tight.
Because by now her roommates knew that she wasn't going to make it to the Quidditch shop.
Unbidden, the memory of her conversation with her roommates this morning began to replay itself in her mind, causing the tightness in her chest to close in even more.
"Are you going to Hogsmeade with Simon today?" Angelina asked, her voice light and careful as she finished buttoning up her trousers.
Wren had kirby grips stuck in her mouth as she stood in front of the mirror, attempting to put her hair back in a complicated twist, so she just nodded.
In the mirror she watched as Angelina nodded her head, pausing as she carefully pieced together her next words. "The two of us and Katie were going to go to the Quidditch shop if you wanted to come along. Apparently they just got some new posters of the Holyhead Harpies and some other stuff. We'll wait for you if you want to meet up with us."
Wren stuck the last of the kirby grips into her hair before eyeing her reflection. "I'll ask Simon if he wants to go."
"Or you could just come," Alicia blurted, and Angelina shot her a scolding look. Wren couldn't see Alicia's face in the mirror.
"I mean-" Alicia started, gathering steam. "We haven't seen much of you recently, so if he was planning on meeting up with his friends at some point, you could always come with us."
Wren flushed as she reached up to fiddle with her hair some more. "I'm sorry. I've just been really busy between homework and Simon-"
"We understand," Angelina said quickly. "It's just that-we were wondering if maybe we'd upset you or if there was something going on?"
"You've just been so distant," Alicia added.
Wren turned to face them then. "No! No, it has nothing to do with you. I've just been struggling to balance everything, lately," she said, offering a weak smile. "I'm so sorry. I'll do better."
"No, you're fine!" Angelina said, quickly. "We just miss you and wanted to make sure everything's ok."
Wren nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly. "Yeah, I'm good. Um, maybe we can meet up around 12:30?"
"Sounds great," Angelina smiled before changing the subject completely.
When Wren had brought it up to Simon, things had gotten tense. So she dropped the conversation and the idea of going.
"Should I be worried that you're checking your watch?" Simon asked, a laugh in his voice as he sat down, placing two mugs on the table before scooting in to sit next to her.
"Not in the slightest," Wren beamed at him, taking hold of her butterbeer and sipping off the top foam. Simon snorted at her, gesturing for Wren to come closer which she did, happily. He swiped at her top lip with his thumb, pulling foam away and wiping it on the small paper coaster that rested under his mug.
"You're such a mess," he teased, and Wren shook her head at him.
"It's impossible to drink this unmessily," she protested.
"Watch how it's done," he said, taking a long drink from his own butterbeer before setting the mug back down on the table. With great emphasis he ran his tongue along his top lip, wiping away any of the residual foam as Wren laughed and pushed at him.
He looked out over the bar before gesturing to a table in the back where a group of first years were drinking out of similar mugs. "I'm fairly certain those eleven year olds have mastered the art of drinking better than you," he said, and Wren turned back to argue when suddenly he moved forward, capturing her lips with his.
Kissing Simon always felt a bit like drowning. It left Wren breathless and with a pressure in her head and chest that was overwhelming. She'd spent their entire relationship trying to figure out what it was about him that left her so lightheaded after a kiss. Maybe it was the way his hands always pulled her closer, threading through her hair to bring her lips nearer to his or grasping at her waist to pull her in. Maybe it was the way his lips guided her through the kiss, setting a steady rhythm and insisting she keep up. Maybe it was just the fact that it was him, and being so close and so obviously loved was overwhelming.
Whatever it was, when Simon finally pulled away with a smirk on his now slightly swollen lips, Wren felt as if she was breaking through the surface of the ocean, desperate for air.
"What was that for?" Wren asked, attempting to catch her breath.
"I just want everyone in here to know how lucky I am," he said, winking at her before taking a long sip of his butterbeer.
Wren playfully nudged his shoulder. "You're such a romantic," she grinned, turning out to face the pub to see if Simon's ploy to let all of The Three Broomsticks know that they were together had worked. Her eyes skipped from table to table, looking to see if anyone was still staring at them.
And there was one person. Who wiped the grin right off of Wren's face.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Simon's brow furrowing, confused at the sudden change in her demeanor, but before he could say anything, Wren whipped towards him.
"Really?" she asked, her voice cracking like a whip.
She knew that he was well aware of what she was talking about by the frustration underlying his "What?"
"I can't believe you," Wren shook her head at him, pressing her fingertips to her temples. "I thought we were past this."
Simon's face turned hard and unreadable. "If we're past this, I don't see why you're upset."
Wren let out a disbelieving scoff before getting up from the table and storming towards the door. She pushed out into the cool November air, starting down the street and back up to the castle. Around her, groups of girls walked with linked arms, and boys jostled each other as they raced to their next destination. Everyone seemed to be happy. Everyone else always seemed to be so bloody happy.
Heavy footsteps sounded from behind her as Simon caught up with her. It was clear he wasn't running though. No, they were long strides which closed the distance quickly but lacked any sense of urgency.
"You're making a scene over nothing," Simon hissed at her, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her off to the side of the street.
"It's not nothing," Wren protested, her voice raising as if to make up for his quietness. "You kissed me like that because you wanted Fred and George to see," she said, jabbing a finger over his shoulder and towards the Three Broomsticks.
"So?"
"So?" Wren repeated, incredulous. "So, the only reason I've gotten any form of affection out of you is so you can win this ego contest that nobody else is even competing in!" she argued, her voice ending in a near shout.
Simon hushed her, pushing her back further from the street and the inquisitive eyes and ears of other Hogwarts students.
"Let's be honest here, Wren," Simon said, coolly. "You didn't have any problem with it before you realized they were there. You're upset because you didn't want them to see us together."
"No. My problem is that you-"
"I thought you were over this," Simon said, cutting her off and shaking his head. "I thought it was back to being you and me but I guess I was wrong. Even when I'm on a date with you, you're still with them."
"Would you please listen-"
"You know what? Go back to your other boyfriends," he said, walking back towards the street. "I hope you three have a lovely date together."
"Simon!" Wren called after him, but he turned away from her, disappearing out into the crowds before she could catch up.
1 hour, 47 minutes, and 15 seconds.
That was how long Wren had been unable to get back to sleep. She placed her watch back onto her nightstand and let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.
She could have blamed the lack of sleep on a number of things: Alicia's snoring (which no one, not even Angelina, had the heart to tell her about), the moon (which was full and in clear view of Wren's window and therefore much too bright), and her essay (which was due in approximately 32 hours, and she still had eight more inches left to write). It was rather uncharacteristic of Wren to not have the essay done by this point, and she couldn't help but blame her inability to focus on Herbology on the fourth reason she couldn't fall asleep. The reason Wren didn't want to think about.
With another small sound, this one more of a whining sigh, Wren tossed back her covers and swung her legs to the floor in one fluid motion. She cast a glance around the faintly illuminated room, her eyes landing on Angelina's bed, drapes closed to ward off the snores coming from Alicia, and felt a fault pang of disappointment.
Unwilling to dwell on the feeling, Wren rose, the bed emitting a small protest as she did so, perhaps because she took her quilt with her, pulling it over her shoulders as a defense against the cold. The sleepless Gryffindor tiptoed out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room, hoping that a change in scenery would do the trick.
The common room's fire was hardly more than embers, emanating a faint warmth that did not quite make it all the way to the stairs. The firelight was no better, falling just short of the sofa, so that the only true source of light in the room was the moon, which, contrary to Wren's earlier complaints, was bright enough only to give Wren a vague idea of what obstacles stood before her on her path to the sofa. Long shadows wrapped themselves around the common room, and temporarily Wren, until she settled herself down on the cushions, curling up into the corner of the arm and the back of the sofa with her quilt draped over her.
It did not take long for Wren to fall asleep in the dimly lit coziness of the common room.
How long she was able to stay asleep was an entirely different matter.
"Wren?"
"Mmph?" Wren mumbled, reluctantly turning her head away from the comfort of the sofa's back cushion. She blinked a couple of times attempting to focus on the figure bent over her, his or her face backlit by the almost dead fire.
"Are you ok?" the figure's hand fell away from where it had shaken her shoulder as Wren shifted to get a better look at him, definitely him. The cloud over the moon passed, or at least shifted, and moonlight fell across half of the boy's face.
"Fred?" Wren hazarded a guess as another cloud took the previous one's place.
"Yeah," Fred nodded. "Are you ok?"
Something twisted in Wren's gut as she looked at him, attempting to hold his gaze in the darkness despite the fact that she couldn't even properly see him. "I couldn't sleep," Wren explained. "What are you doing up so late?"
"George and Lee and I just got back from Hogsmeade," Fred answered. Wren squinted her eyes at him in confusion, before feeling rather silly. Of course the boys had ways in and out of the castle after hours. This should not have a surprise. "We had some trouble getting back in 'cause the Fat Lady was asleep."
A new twinge in Wren's chest made itself known. "Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd have known you were staying out late, I would have let you back in."
"We would have told you, but you've been a bit of a Snitch to catch the past couple of weeks," Fred remarked. There was no heat behind his words, not even annoyance or hurt. But even in the faint light, she could see that his eyes had the same look in them that they'd had in the library.
"Yeah," was all she managed to choke out as she shifted her gaze to the quilted fabric bent over her knees.
"Wren?" She knew what had to be coming.
"I should probably go upstairs and get some proper sleep," Wren said, ignoring Fred as she pushed the quilt off her legs and stood up, Fred backing up to avoid her colliding with him. "You too."
"Why do you keep doing that?" The question made Wren freeze midway through picking up her quilt from the sofa. "You're always running off whenever you're in the same room as me or George, except for class. But even then you don't speak to us more than saying hello and goodbye when you run out of the classroom."
"It's called paying attention. You should try it sometime. It's not that bad, and the professors really seem to appreciate it," Wren attempted to joke off, grabbing hold of the quilt.
"Wren, I'm serious."
Wren's eyes flicked back to him, noticing the usual ghost of laughter was missing from his face. Instead, his jaw was set and his dark eyes peered intensely down at her.
"Oh," Wrensaid, quietly, turning and sitting back down on the sofa. Fred walked to the other side of the sofa, turning to lean his back against the armrest like she had, so they could easily face each other. They sat in the quiet for a few more moments before finally Fred got tired of waiting for her to explain.
"Did we do something?" he asked, cautiously.
"What? No. Of course not." Wren sputtered.
"Did…" he stopped, and she felt sick at the fact that Fred Weasley was hesitating. "Did I do something?"
"No," she said softly, earnestly. "Not really."
"Not really?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, it's nothing. You didn't do anything Fred. It's all on me."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Somehow I doubt that's true." He paused again, eyes staring at her intensely as if he were accomplished at wandless legilimency. "It's Simon, isn't it?"
"Simon?" Wren's voice squeaked. Fred took the sound as confirmation.
"Knew it," he said under his breath, and suddenly Wren felt like she was suffocating. Like it was too cold and dark and everything was closing in on her. Her heart pounded and she scrambled up from her seat.
"I have to go to bed."
"Wren."
"It's too cold down here. And I have an essay due-"
"Tomorrow's Sunday, just put a log on," Fred said.
"No, I should-I should really go," Wren nodded, wishing she could just tear herself away from him, turn around and head back up the stairs. But she couldn't, and so she watched as Fred shot up from the sofa, whipped out his wand and with a quick swish and flick, levitated a log into the fireplace. The coals crackled under its weight, and she was so focused on the fire that when it flared to life thanks to another spell from Fred, bright spots appeared in her vision. But despite that, when Wren faced him, she could finally see his flaming red hair, his scattering of freckles, his earnest expression.
"Fred, please," Wren whispered.
"What. Happened. With Simon?" he asked firmly, his jaw ticking.
Wren paused, her mouth wavering and the claustrophobia morphing into something different. Something distinctly sadder. "We just got into a fight, but it's ok. I'm making it ok. I'm trying to do better, and-" And then she broke. She was not making anything ok. She was making herself and everyone around her miserable.
Wren hated crying in front of other people-especially her fellow Gryffindors-but at this moment something inside her snapped under the weight of all the things she'd been carrying with her over the past two weeks. She didn't even bother turning away, instead she collapsed back onto the sofa, bent her head, and started sobbing. Quickly she brought her hands up to her face, hoping to muffle the sound and carve out a little privacy for herself.
The other side of the sofa sank down. "Wren-"
She shook her head, refusing to look up.
"Wren, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" he stopped, and she wondered if he felt as helpless as she did right now.
How could she have treated her friends-the best friends she'd ever had-like they were nothing to her? How could she have done the same to her boyfriend-who had known her longer and loved her more? She was awful.
"Wren." Fred's arms wrap around her slowly, giving her time to pull free if she wanted to, but instead she leaned into him, moving her hands from her face so she could hug him back and cry into his shoulder. Fred stroked her hair gently as she sobbed, occasionally whispering a soft "It's alright" or "We're ok."
Eventually the sobs slowed, making her limbs feel heavy with exhaustion so that she kept her head tucked against Fred's shoulder, forehead resting on the crook of his neck.
"I'm sorry I was so awful," she managed. Her voice was still broken, but at least it was comprehensible.
"I'm sorry I pushed too hard." Neither denied the other's statement. Instead, Wren let him hold her for a few more minutes, the two just watching the fire crackle together. Then, slowly, she pulled away, and he let her go.
Wren wiped her eyes with her hands, and then looked at Fred. His shirt was wet—soaked really—but he wasn't even looking at it. He was looking at her.
"Can't get me to talk to you for two weeks, and then when you do, I just start crying," she joked, weakly.
"You know, if you want to make it up to me..." he trailed off, inclining his head towards her, his lips twisting into a cheeky smile.
"I'm not going to kiss you," Wren laughed, the sound coming out sadder than maybe it should have. "Especially after I just finished crying."
"Probably for the best," Fred allowed. "You look like hell." Wren smacked him harder than was strictly necessary, but he just laughed.
"Got you to smile," he grinned, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear. She attempted to scowl at him, but the corners of her lips kept betraying her, twitching back up into a smile.
"Thank you, Fred," she finally allowed.
"So," Fred said, settling back into his arm of the sofa."What happened between you and Simon?"
Wren looked back at the fire, watching the flames crackle as Fred waited silently. She didn't know why she half expected him to tell her that she didn't have to if she didn't want to or the fact that they were ok now was enough. That just wasn't him.
Wren moved back to her position against the opposite arm of the sofa, draping her quilt back over her knees. "We got into a fight because he was jealous."
"Jealous?"
"Of you. And George. And how I spend more time with you than with him."
"Is he jealous that you're not spending your time with him or that you're spending it with me and George?"
"I don't know." Wren looked down at the hearth. "Maybe both? I told him you and I are just friends and that he was the one making it into something it's not."
"How'd that go over?"
Wren thought back to the library and the feeling of the bookshelf hitting her back, books falling down around her. "Not so well."
"Hm," Fred made a noise, seeming to turn something over in his head. "That explains the snogging session in the middle of The Three Broomsticks today."
"We fought about that too," Wren said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why-I think it's just hard for him because I've been spending more time with you and George, and for the past three years, it's really just been me and him."
"You're allowed to have friends," Fred spoke, lowly. His voice and his face seemed tense, as if there was something he was trying to keep in.
"I know," Wren said softly, looking into the fire. "I'm just saying I understand where he was coming from. It must be difficult for him now that I am close to other people and he has to share my time."
"That's not fair of him," Fred said in the same low, tense voice. "It's not fair for him to expect you to be there whenever he calls when he can run off with his friends at any time. It's not fair that he gets to say who you can hang out with and when—"
"Fred, he's my boyfriend," Wren cut him off. "That's what boyfriends and girlfriends do. Sometimes I make him choose me over his mates, and now he can sometimes do the same." Fred did not look entirely convinced. In fact he looked somewhat pained.
"So are you saying that you don't want to be friends with me and George anymore?" Fred asked, tightly.
"No," Wren burst out, reaching and grabbing Fred's hand, her heartbeat skyrocketing at the prospect. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying that this is all my fault, and I'm going to fix things because I can't lose you." Wren said, her throat constricting up again. "You're too important to me. You and George," she added, swallowing.
Fred's features softened into concern. "You're important to us too, Wren."
"So you'll forgive me?" Wren asked, her voice coming out choked.
"Of course," Fred said, and Wren threw herself across the sofa and back into his arms, Fred emitting a small oof! as she collided with him.
"Thank you," Wren mumbled into his chest as Fred repositioned his arms around her.
"Anytime," he said, giving her a squeeze.
Wren smiled sleepily, her voice coming out small. "But hopefully never again."
"Hopefully not," Fred agreed, his chest rumbling under her cheek.
Silence enveloped them once more, and after a few more minutes of just listening to Fred breathing, Wren was finally, finally able to sleep.