Fred's Ball

Despite all the doubts and anxiety manifesting inside of him, Fred was actually enjoying himself. He had adopted the energy of the buzzing hall as everyone screamed and danced to the band and whenever he felt worries try to take over, his mates were always there to erase them. Beautiful girls would approach him and due to his kindness and his inability to say no, he would get a drink with them or even dance with them, but of course, they weren't the ones for him. Like a meerkat, he would stretch his neck to look over the crowd and locate Lucas, feeling disappointment when he spotted him with a girl and becoming elated whenever he would catch him and wave. He knew nothing would happen between them; it was clearer than crystal that not only was Lucas not interested in men, but he was definitely not interested in weak boys like Fred.

No one was keeping track of the time, Fred just knew it was time for a drink and made his way to one of the punch fountains. It had become entertaining watching the elder students attempt to spike the punch and the charm McGonagall had put on it giving them a well earned brief electric shock. As he chuckled to himself at the fifth unprepared victim, he was approached by a gentle faced young man. His porcelain oval face resembled that of a delicate china doll with his deep brown eyes being the centre of his beauty. His glitter cerise suit made Fred question why he had not noticed him earlier.

"I hope you don't object to me accompanying you," he sang sweetly,

"Oh, no, I don't mind," Fred smiled,

"There's a limit to how long I can pretend to be interested in the opposite sex," the sparkling boy filled his cup with punch, "I'm Carlisle, by the way."

As the two shook hands, Fred found himself compelled to gaze into his alluring eyes and dipped his head when he became embarrassed about staring for too long. It was refreshing to have someone similar to talk to and it was as if Carlisle was guiding Fred out of his box of security with every word. They laughed about what they labelled as 'gay struggles', shared music interests and became excited when they realized they shared the same birthday. Never before had Fred clicked with someone so quickly and so easily. Without noticing, the two had been taking steps closer to each other, going from an arm's length away to their shoulders almost touching.

"My friend invited me, I'm home schooled you see, so I don't get to meet people much," Carlisle sipped his drink,

"Wow, sometimes I wish I was home schooled; would make life so much less stressful," Fred laughed,

"You'd think so, but there's only so much of the same people you can tolerate until you start to conjure up your patronus for new company. It can become agonizingly lonely, especially now we've moved to the city,"

"I love the city!"

"You should visit me then!"

Carlisle produced a baby pink piece of paper with a flamboyant flick of his wrist and as he slipped it in Fred's top pocket, he leaned in so his lips were close to his ear.

"I'd love to see more of such a captivating boy like you."

Fred's breath trembled and he felt himself blush as the soft air from his words tickled his ear. Receiving such attention and compliments was almost a non-existent experience for a boy as awkward as himself and he looked around to check if anyone was witnessing the rare moment he was the epicentre of. Carlisle's fingers brushed his, making him giggle uncontrollably which he thought would be annoying, but instead made Carlisle shower him with compliments even more and as they talked, their fingers playfully caressed each other. Soon, Carlisle's friend came to claim him back, but he refused to leave without giving Fred a quick kiss on his cheek and demanding that he wrote to him every week.

"Well, look who it is!" Humphrey, the one person Fred wished he could make disappear approached him minutes after Carlisle left,

"What do you want?" Fred sighed.

Humphrey looked like someone tried to dress up humpty dumpty before he fell off the wall and Fred would happily be the one to push him. He wore what should've been a sharp burgundy suit, instead it was tarnished by a cranberry sauce stain in the middle of the jacket and he had buttoned up his black shirt as well as the suit jacket wrong- anyone would've thought he had gotten dressed in the pitch black. His massive head was like the moon during an eclipse, blocking out all of the magnificent lights around the hall, but with none of the beauty.

"I saw you talking to pretty boy. Deciding who you'll be in the Village People were you?" Humphrey made his voice twice as loud as the music,

"No," Fred tried to sound firm,

"I didn't realize fags could be so ugly, the poor guy was probably trying to disown you on behalf of the queer community."

Fred hadn't received such harsh abuse about his sexuality before; he couldn't even find the words to fight back as the venom spat at him intoxicated his brain. His heart began to pound and breathing required effort as he tried to hold back his tears. He couldn't look weak. He couldn't.

"I'm surprised your one brain cell could come up with such a disgusting word, but then again, your vocabulary does scream dirt," Fred found a way to push out the words,

"You want to talk about dirt? You're probably riddled, you gays are almost as filthy as muggle-borns," with these words, Fred let the tears flow,

"Hey oversized goblin!" through Fred's tears, he saw Lucas throw a punch at Humphrey.

Vibrating was his ribcage from his malleating heart and he could feel the devil's hands compressing his lungs until all air had been drained from them. His legs turned to jelly, a hammer began to get faster in his head and when he stumbled, Lucas was there to support him. Their eyes connected as Fred adjusted his footing. Setting his eyes on the guy who lived rent free in his mind didn't make breathing any easier, especially when Lucas stroked his arm in reassurance. A crowd had swarmed around them with Victoire pushing through it to hold her cousin's hands and guide him out of the entangling weeds of anxiety. How could this be happening? He was having such a pleasant evening until Mr-poor-excuse-of-a-Gryffindor decided to remind Fred that such scum existed.

"You always defend this beanpole," Humphrey complained,

"And you always pick on him! I guess it's hard for you to pick on someone your own size, huh?" Lucas retaliated,

"Shut up, Youngstead! It's time pathetic Fred here stood up for himself. Where's your backbone, little boy?"

Fred let go of Victoire's hands. He was tired. Tired of having panic attacks, tired of being bullied and tired of having people fight his battles. A prominent voice screamed for him to evacuate the hall and cry in his pillow, but that voice had been obeyed too many times. With his fists clenched, Fred slowly stepped in between Lucas and Humphrey. At first he thought of uttering a mixture of insults at him, but that would just lead to the same wickedness being fired back at him and knocking the bravery out of him. It was when he turned to Victoire that he knew what he was going to do. He took a deep breath and concentrated.

"Avis," he whispered with his eyes tightly closed.

For a couple of seconds, there was silence. How could he expect the spell to work without a wand? With defeat already setting in his heart, he opened his eyes to be greeted with chirping behind his head and gasps from the audience who had neglected their dancing for the drama. Fred beamed with pride as he watched the six small white birds play around his head, before darting at Humphrey and pecking at him. The laughs only encouraged him to allow them to continue as the level of satisfaction grew from no longer taking the verbal punches.

"Stop it, Weasley!" Humphrey begged and he tried to hit the birds away.

Mercifully, Fred summoned them back and they hovered by his side, waiting for his next instruction as he watched Humphrey attempt to fix his suit and hair. There were already red marks on his face from where the birds had pecked at him with only a fraction of the violence Fred wished upon him.

"Now, I could carry on, or you could leave me the hell alone, butterball."

He was doing it! He was fighting back!

Puffing out his chest only made Humphrey look even more like an idiot and as he looked around at the crowd, his defeat set in, "Fine, you win, Weasley."