(GoF) CHAPTER FOUR: Back at the Bench

Ellie tried as hard as she could to fall asleep at that night, but she couldn't. She couldn't stop thinking about everything she had left behind—her father; Buckbeak; that little cabin they'd put together. She couldn't stop thinking about Aleks, either—about the Dark magic she'd dabbled in with him—about what he had threatened to do to her.

The harm he had done to her was still lingering. Her back and shoulder blades were sore from where he had slammed her against the wall, and the spot on her head from the same interaction had scabbed over into something of a bloody mess. Worst of all, though, was the shame of it. How could she have been so stupid?

When her locket glowed around midnight, she almost didn't even think anything of it. It had often glowed in the middle of the night that summer, and she had always ignored it.

Now, though, she was here—only a moment's walk away from him. She didn't even have to open the locket to know where he was—down in the kitchen, standing by to make them both a sub sandwich, if only she asked.

She shouldn't do it. She should keep protecting her heart.

But she needed her best friend. She had for a long time.

So she went to him.

"Don't get used to it," she warned him with a wry grin when she joined him on the kitchen. "Wouldn't want you to take me for granted again."

"Trust me, El," he said, shaking his head. "I won't."

She wanted to believe him. She really did.

"Veggie sub?" he asked her, opening up the magical refrigerator.

She bit her lip. She hadn't had the heart to tell Sirius about her dietary restrictions that summer, given their circumstances; it was hard enough for them to find food already. "I sort of… eat meat now. I guess."

He seemed to understand why. "Just because you were forced into it this summer doesn't mean you have to keep it up. I mean… if you don't want to."

He had a point, she supposed. She stepped over to join him at the fridge, scanning its contents carefully. Before she could decide what she wanted, though, he gasped. "El—your back!"

She glanced over her shoulder at her back, confused by his surprise. She'd worn a halter top earlier and hadn't seen any physical bruising from her altercation with Aleks.

It must just not have set in yet, she realized when she saw the deep, purple marks that had started to form on her shoulder blades and back. They were partially obstructed by the tank top she had borrowed from Ginny, but not completely.

"It's nothing," she said, backing away from him. "I should go."

"No way." His voice was harder and firmer than she'd heard it in months. "Tell me what happened."

"You don't get to boss me around anymore. You—"

"This isn't about us," he interrupted, starting to raise his voice. "Did someone find you? Did the Ministry come after you? Did—"

"No—no—nothing like that. Can't you just forget it? It was nothing. It was less than nothing."

"You got hurt, Ellie. It isn't nothing."

He wasn't letting go of this one; that much was clear. She had almost told Ginny earlier, she supposed; she could handle telling Fred, couldn't she? "Can we at least go outside? I don't want anyone hearing this."

He nodded, leading her impatiently outside and seemingly abandoning the sub sandwich project altogether.

He didn't sit on their bench when they reached the garden. Instead, he started to pace.

"There was a… boy," she said carefully. "At the last place we stayed."

He groaned out loud. "Of course, there was."

She tried to ignore the sting of that comment. "His name was Aleks—short for Aleksander. He worked at the coffee shop. For the first few weeks, I thought he was just a barista, but then he told me that he knew I was a witch—and that he was a wizard."

His brown eyes flashed at that. He didn't like where this was going.

"I got a sort of… strange vibe from him," she admitted carefully. "But he was sort of… fascinating, too. Said he was a student at Durmstrang, and—"

"Hang on. Durmstrang Institute? As in the school that's infamous for teaching its students the Dark Arts?"

"Well… yeah." She bit her lip. "Only I didn't know that at first. And he had some really cool magic—some spells he'd come up with himself—like conjuring flowers and—"

"Flowers?" Fred interrupted sharply. "Seriously?"

"Well… yeah. And he offered to teach me. I wasn't really sure, at that point, that I'd ever be allowed at Hogwarts, and I sort of… liked the idea of learning new things."

"From a total stranger who went to a Dark Arts school and tried to woo you with magical flowers?" he nearly spit at her.

She crossed her arms, starting to regret having come to him with any of this. "Can you please calm down? You said we could go back to being friends again, Fred, not… whatever we were when you berated me for my romantic choices."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right—I'm sorry. Go on."

"I kept meeting up with him for a few weeks. He taught me some really useful spells, only, as time went on… they started to become a bit more… violent."

"Dark magic," he clarified with an I-told-you-so undertone.

"Well… yeah. Only, he made a point which, at the time, made sense to me. Is Dark magic not simply a term for magic that inflicts pain or damage onto others? If Dark magic is used to hurt evil men… is it really… dark?"

"Of course, it is. Stupefy doesn't qualify as Dark magic, El; not even Petrificus Totalus does. It's the kind of spells that are meant to do more than just Stun. It's the ones that are designed to hurt people—even to torture them."

It made sense, of course, coming from Fred. But the version of her that summer—the girl whose only company was Aleks—hadn't seen things quite so clearly.

"When the spells got violent, I told him I wanted to stop," she said. "He didn't like that, though. Kept demanding to know why I didn't see the appeal—in it, or in him."

Fred looked disgusted—though undeniably relieved that she hadn't seen the appeal in him.

"That's pretty much it," she said. "I went back to Dad and told him we needed to leave, and he brought me here."

"That's hardly it," said Fred impatiently. "You still haven't said how you got those bruises. Unless…" His expression darkened. "Are you saying he did that to you?"

"Well… yeah. He wasn't pleased with my whole wanting to stop thing."

His eyes flashed with a kind of rage she had never seen in them before. "So he hurt you?" he demanded. "Physically?"

"It wasn't that bad. He just sort of… threw me against a wall."

She didn't realize, until the words were out of her mouth, the implication that came with them. Men didn't just throw women against walls; it was a first step that led to an even less pleasant second one.

Fred's eyes went from livid to flat-out boiling at that. He looked like he had half a mind to get on his broomstick that second and fly all the way to the little town she'd come from. "Did he…" His voice was so shaky with rage, he could barely speak. "Did he… threaten to… do something to you?"

Aleks' words rang out in her head, dripping with that Eastern European accent, as his leg shoved its way between hers. Stop resisting.

She couldn't find the words to answer Fred, but her tears seemed to speak for themselves.

And just like that, he was punching the brick wall of the house—so hard and so fast, she could actually hear his bones break.

She shrieked, hand flying to her mouth, as she instinctively jumped away from him—still nervous, apparently, about physical blows.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, realizing the scare he had given her. He shook out his clearly wounded hand, not seeming to feel the pain. "Just… tell me that's all he did. Tell me nothing else happened."

"That's all he did," she promised him. "I changed into my Animagus at that. Gave him a good, hard bite in the arm for it."

She half-expected him to laugh or smile at that, but he didn't. His gaze was still murderous.

"Fred," she whispered, suddenly feeling very small and very weak. "Stop looking like that. He's a thousand miles from here. I'm right in front of you—and I need you."

Those three, pivotal words finally seemed to do the trick of calming the beast inside him. His expression finally softened, and he took a step toward her, reaching out a gentle hand to cup her cheek with his good hand. For the first time since returning to him, she didn't retract from his touch.

"I know I'm the reason you didn't tell me sooner," he said softly. "I know I have no one to blame but myself. But you have to promise me, El. Promise me you won't keep these things from me anymore. Whatever it is… I have to know. I just have to."

She could tell him no. She could tell him that he had lost the opportunity to make those demands with her. She could tell him whatever she wanted.

But she wanted to make that promise. She wanted Fred back—all of him—the best friend she had once shared everything with.

"Okay," she whispered. "I promise."


They fell asleep on the bench again that night. They were both careful, at first, about the ways in which they touched each other. He draped a respectful arm around the back of the bench; she leaned a tentative head on his shoulder; and that was that. But as the minutes passed, she knew that it wasn't enough for her. She needed to be held by him; she needed to be comforted by him. By the time they finally fell asleep, she was fully enveloped in his arms, head against his chest—feeling safer than she ever had before.

When she woke up the next morning, she looked up at him to find that he was already awake, staring back down at her with a look that could only be described as "love."

Love… and protectiveness.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, El," he whispered to her. "But I promise you I will be next time. No one will ever hurt you like that again."

She knew, of course, that he couldn't really make a promise like that. No one could. And yet, hearing him say it made her feel just as safe as she had when she fell asleep the night before. She believed him, anyway.

And she loved him every inch as much as she had on Christmas Eve—maybe more.

So she did the only thing she could: she grabbed him and kissed him.

It was just like it had been the first time, but even more powerful. There were the same sharply drawn breaths—the same fast, eager, hungry kisses—the same hands that clutched deeply and desperately at each other's faces, hair, and bodies as if struggling to keep them from disappearing. As they kissed, he rose to a seated position with her very much still on top of him, and it struck her with a hint of irony they were in just the position they had been back then—she in his lap, clinging to him as desperately as he was kissing her.

But the way he held her—the desperation and severity with which he touched her—was different from the last time. It was tender, to be sure, and loving, too, yet… Possessive, in a way. It was an undeniably sexy way, but a way that scared her, too.

Was she really ready to be Fred's to possess?

New words rang out in her head as she kissed him—not the words of Aleks, but the words of Fred himself, that fateful, Christmas Eve night.

I shouldn't have kissed you. Forget I did.

You can't say that to me. It isn't fair.

This isn't a game, Ellie. You can't toy with me like this.

You're not in love with me. You're meant to be with someone like them—like Oliver or Harry or even Cedric Diggory. You're confused... you're lonely.

How could I have known you had feelings for me when you dated a different guy every five minutes?

It was too much.

She yanked away from him, leaping to her feet and shaking her head as the tears sprang back to her eyes.

"El," he said softly, rising to his own feet. "Please—"

"No." She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, silently cursing them. "It's not fair."

"I know. But, El—"

"I shouldn't have kissed you. It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

But those words were clearly the last thing he wanted to hear. "Don't say that. It wasn't a mistake. If you still have feelings—"

"I don't," she interrupted sharply. "I can't. I told you I could be your friend again, that I would be honest with you—that I wouldn't keep secrets from you. Well, here's the truth, Fred: it hurts to kiss you. It hurts to hear your voice in my head, telling me all the reasons you couldn't be with me. I can't even think about how much it would hurt to… to…"

But she couldn't finish her sentence; the tears were falling too hard and too fast.

"Okay," he said softly, coming over to her and wrapping his arms around her. "Then we'll stop, El. If you want to be friends, that's what we'll be."

Was that what she wanted? Was that even what she was saying?

All she really knew was what she didn't want—and that was to keep hurting.


So close, but so far... Well, can you really blame the poor girl for being careful after what he did to her? Then again, Fred clearly cares for her QUITE a lot... We're finally going to get to the World Cup fun in the next chapter, so stay tuned for that, and review and follow to show your support!