After Rachel had spilled the news about Fred and George's brother, I had immediately wished she hadn't said anything. I didn't really care anymore if everyone around here knew about it. From what I'd heard about the Battle of Hogwarts, most of these people had probably been there and lived it. A lot of people had probably lost friends and family. I felt out of place knowing something so big when I had just appeared out of nowhere. And it felt even weirder that Rachel had told me instead of one of the twins. It wasn't Rachel's fault. She assured me it wasn't a secret. But I just felt that it was something that perhaps I should have let the twins tell me themselves.
I also couldn't keep my eyes from flicking to the twins every so often throughout the night. I had noticed something off about them before and now that I knew the reason for it, it made me even more sad for them. Clearly, they were still mending, and understandably so, even after a year, and yet it was clear that they did their best to push through, have fun, go out with their friends and go on with life as best they could. They went on as if everything were normal, even though I'm sure it was far from it. I was curious as to how they did it because I wanted that for myself as well. I'd gone through different things, but all I'd ever wanted was to move forward and get some stability, which was still an ongoing struggle. I'd considered this place to be a quick pitstop on my journey to moving on with my life, but instead I was here with a job, shelter, food, and surprisingly...friends. Sort of. It was as if this place were supposed to be my journey's end when I wasn't sure it could be. I couldn't rest just yet. Not until I knew for sure I'd be safe.
Another hour at the pub passed and I found myself listening to the conversation around me, adding to it (vaguely, I must say. As usual) when someone asked me a direct question. But other than that, my mind was on the twins. I slowly moved through one and a quarter drinks in the time it took everyone else at the table to go through at least four. I also couldn't help but notice, despite being across the room, that Fred was moving through drinks a bit more rapidly than his group of friends. I had to admit, he seemed a bit more distant today. Not quite the upbeat person I'd met before.
The people around me were slowly beginning to get a bit tipsy and I found myself not only needing to use the bathroom, but also get some air. Everyone else was getting louder and more talkative, while I remained almost just as quiet. I had shown a lot of restraint with how much I had had to drink for a few reasons-all of them personal-and it meant that I was the only mostly sober person, which I hated. Not because I liked being drunk, but because I wasn't sure what to expect from people when they were drunk-especially people I didn't know. The group I was with luckily seemed, well, okay, all things considered. They were just loud, talkative, more giggly. But I still found myself just needing to get away from it all. Besides that, Noah had draped an arm around the back of my chair at some point and was sitting quite close to me. He hadn't tried to ask me out again, but I was afraid he'd do so again soon.
So I whispered to Rachel where I was going, not sure if she even heard me or even processed it if she did, and headed for the bathroom. Once I was done, I quickly stepped out the back door of the pub and into the back alley to get some air. I leaned against the brick wall of the building, right between the door and the trash cans and took a deep breath. The air smelled of the garbage from the trash and I instinctively wrinkled my nose. So much for fresh air.
I stayed outside for a moment more-debating whether I should stay or go back to Tom and Martha's. I doubted anyone would notice at the moment if I left, but they'd realize eventually. The thing was that I didn't think I could handle being here anymore. The noise, the alcohol...it was all too much. And all I was doing was sitting there watching them all. I didn't know what I was thinking, coming out tonight. I didn't fit in with these people. And I surely looked just as awkward and out of place as I felt.
I sighed and rested my head against the wall as I closed my eyes. Maybe I'd just go back home and just think of something to tell Rachel and the others when I saw them on Monday. It was easier than going back inside and saying goodbye.
Making up my mind, I pushed off the wall and turned for the door. But just as I was reaching for the doorknob, the door swung open and smacked me right in the forehead. I cried out in pain and clutched my aching head as I stumbled back a few steps.
"Oh-shit! Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't see you!"
I groaned and peered up at the person who was now at my side trying to look for any damage they might have caused. I froze for a second when I saw it was Fred.
"Sophie?" he said in surprise. "I'm so sorry. I honestly didn't see you. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I mumbled, gingerly pressing my fingers to the left side of my forehead. It ached at the touch and I winced. I tried to step around Fred and go back inside, but he wouldn't let me.
"Hang on," he said, reaching out and grabbing my arm. I flinched and he froze before loosening his grip.
"I'm honestly okay," I said. "You didn't hit me that hard."
"Liar," Fred snorted. There was a pause. "Here, sit down." He gently guided me to a stack of crates placed on the side of the door opposite the trash cans. I sat down, continuing to keep my hand on my head.
"I'm fine," I repeated. "Honestly." My cheeks were as red as the sore spot on my head and I wanted to leave more than ever.
Fred ignored me. "May I?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the spot I was covering as he met my eyes.
I stared up at him, returning his gaze, before slowly lowering my hand, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. I was surprised that he'd asked so gently-and even that he'd asked at all, actually, instead of just telling me to let him see the damage. But it was a good kind of surprise.
After I lowered my hand, Fred lightly pushed some hair from my face before touching his fingertips to my head. I flinched.
"Sorry," Fred apologized. He looked at me. "It's a little red and already a bit swollen. Do you feel okay?"
"I feel fine," I said. "Except for the fact that it hurts."
He nodded. "Hang on," he said, reaching around to pull his wand out from the waistband of his jeans. He turned back to me and lightly tapped his wand against my head. "Swelling's gone," he reported. "Got most of the redness, too, but not all of it...It should go away after a bit, though." He put his wand away and began studying my eyes. "Your pupils look normal. Dilated ones are a sign of a concussion. If you notice anything later or if you start vomiting..." He trailed off and cleared his throat.
"You sure seem to know a lot about concussions," I said.
"George and I have had a few here and there," Fred shrugged.
"How many?" I asked curiously.
"Four," he answered.
I looked up at him. "Four concussions? Four each or between the two of you?"
"Four total," he said. "Each of us have had two."
"Joke related incidents?" I asked.
"One of George's," Fred responded. "The rest were from playing Quidditch."
"Oh," I said, falling silent and aimlessly kicking my heels against the crates I was sitting on.
"You play?" Fred asked after a beat. "Or, rather did you play? While you were in school?"
I shook my head and let out a scoff of laughter. "No. I don't even think I ever watched a match at school. I probably watched about half of one once."
Fred looked aghast. "What?"
My head snapped up and I looked at his shocked face in surprise. "Is that a punishable crime here?"
"Practically," Fred spluttered. "Have you ever been on a broom?"
I gave him a look. "What do you think?"
"Merlin's beard," Fred said, putting his hands on his knees as if he had been suddenly winded by my news.
I stared at him. "Are you all right?" I asked curiously.
Fred stood up straight and looked at me incredulously. "Are all Americans this disinterested in Quidditch or is it just you?"
"Just me, I think," I said.
"Good, good," Fred nodded.
"Good?" I looked at him, perplexed. I had known Quidditch was a big deal-it was back home as well-but I'd never actually talked to a fan of the game about it before. I guess I didn't know just how important it was to some people. And I'd never really gone to matches at Ilvermorny because I'd never really had anyone to watch with. I had never seen much of a point. If I kept to myself here, I kept to myself even more so back home.
"If you think my reaction is bad," Fred said, "be glad you didn't tell any of that to my fr-my-" he broke off and frowned slightly before shaking his head. "My old Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood. He's back inside. He was Quidditch captain during my third through fifth years and then he went on to play professionally. He loves Quidditch. More than me and George do. More than even my brother Charlie does."
"How many siblings do you have?" I asked. I asked mostly out of curiosity and without thinking, but then my breath hitched immediately afterwards. Crap. I shouldn't have asked that. One of his siblings had died. But then again, he didn't know I knew. As far as he knew, it was an innocent question.
Fred hesitated for a beat, his features freezing before he looked at me and smiled. "Six."
"Six," I repeated. "Wow." There was a pause. "Was Charlie the one who walked in with you?"
"You were watching me walk in?" Fred asked, a teasing smile appearing on his face as he raised an eyebrow.
"No," I said immediately, my face heating up as I looked away.
"I look good tonight, don't I?" Fred asked, striking a pose in front of me as he grinned. "It's okay to look-I don't blame you."
"I wasn't looking," I insisted, blushing even more. "I-uh-I just happened to glance up and notice you." Merlin, if he knew I'd not only watched him walk in, but had been watching him all night, he'd be so creeped out. I needed to get ahold of myself.
It was quiet for a moment before Fred spoke. "Well, to answer your question, no, that wasn't Charlie. The one back inside is Ron." When I didn't respond, he fell quiet again for a second. "I think we should get you some ice for your head," he finally stated. "It's still looking red."
I shrugged. "Okay," I said, looking at my feet. It was odd. As uncomfortable as Fred made me feel a lot of the time, and as much as I hated knowing his secret, I still liked talking to him-when he wasn't making me squirm, that is. I was so used to people making jokes at my expense to be mean. I'd never had anyone do it in jest. There were times when I felt instantly on guard, wondering if Fred was making fun of me too. But he wasn't. His smile was kind, unlike so many others. And he wasn't as mean-just playful. And then he went and did things like this-express genuine concern about hurting me. I'd never really experienced something like that before. Usually when people said or did something hurtful to me, they did it intentionally and never felt badly.
Now, Fred pulled open the door and held it so I could go through. Once we were inside, he led me to the bar and asked the bartender for some ice wrapped in a towel. In the meantime, I perched on the last empty barstool while Fred stood beside me. I purposely avoided looking at him, especially once I felt his gaze turn to me.
"So who were you escaping from?" he asked me suddenly.
"Um," I began, frowning as I thought about how to answer that. Escaping made it seem like I didn't like the people I was with. I did. I just wasn't close with them. And they were a bit drunk. Fred didn't seem to be, though, despite how quickly he'd moved through his drinks earlier. Or, at least, he didn't seem to be too drunk. His cheeks were a little flushed, but that was it.
Fred turned and leaned backwards against the bar, resting his elbows on the top, as casual as can be as he gazed towards the table I'd been sitting at. "Work outing?" he asked.
"For the most part," I said. "I've never been out with them before. It's a little weird."
"Ah, yes, because you're a silent hermit," Fred said. "Except when you're around me. You still need a little work, but you do at least speak to me."
I let out a quiet breath of laughter as I half-smiled. "Shut up."
"Was that a laugh?" Fred asked, a grin spreading over his face.
I shrugged. "Maybe." I glanced over at him and smiled again.
Just then, the bartender appeared with the ice. Fred took it and thanked him before turning back towards me and gently pressing the ice to my head. "Better?"
I nodded and reached up to hold the ice in place. "I've got it. Thanks."
Fred removed his hands and went back to leaning against the bar and looking out at the crowd of people. "If you're interested in knowing, I went outside to escape the people I was with too."
I turned on my stool and looked at the table he'd been sitting at. "Well...I find it hard to believe you don't know any of those people," I said. "They all seem pretty close and I know for a fact that one of them is your twin. So why the need to escape?"
"The exact opposite reason," Fred said. "I know them a bit too well."
I didn't say anything, instead choosing to wait and see if he elaborated. He didn't so I remained silent. I gazed out at the table again and realized that the people Rachel had told me were Angelina and Oliver were now kissing, right at the table. I guess they were dating after all. I vaguely wondered if Allie had seen.
Beside me, Fred let out a noise between a scoff and a growl before turning around and facing the bar, keeping his elbows on the worn surface as he rubbed his hands over his face.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, lowering his hands and looking down at the tabletop. "Just kind of feeling the alcohol, I guess. But oddly enough, I think I need more."
"Uh...Are you sure-" I started, but Fred didn't seem to hear me as he ordered another firewhiskey. Almost the instant it had been handed to him, as if on cue, George appeared at his other side.
"You need to pace yourself," he murmured as Fred took a long sip of his drink.
"I am fine," Fred insisted after he'd swallowed. "Honestly. I'm only slightly feeling it. I'm not going to start throwing things. If I do, I'll let you take me home."
"Will you?" George asked with a sigh. "Without a fuss?"
"Sure," Fred shrugged. "But you can't expect me to come out with all of you and socialize and not drink. Especially with Angelina and Wood going at it. You're not counting their drinks. I'd say they're pretty drunk right now to be snogging in public like that. They've been trying to keep their relationship quiet for six months. To avoid rumors. As if people didn't suspect anything already, and if people hadn't already been talking about me without them giving a shit."
"They gave a shit, Fred," George said quietly. "They always gave a shit."
"Did they?" Fred snapped, taking another sip of his drink. "Didn't seem it when they were going off for snogging sessions behind my back."
"It wasn't behind your back and you know it," George said firmly. "Angelina was upfront with you about what had happened. She ended things first because after all that happened, she still respects you. Maybe you should show her a bit of the same respect, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah," Fred said dismissively, waving his hand around.
I sat there, rooted to my seat with my mouth practically hanging open. I though perhaps I should leave, but I felt frozen to my seat. I also didn't want to call attention to myself by moving. I almost didn't remind Fred and George that I was still here.
"I just don't want you to start regressing," George muttered to Fred.
"Regressing?" Fred asked. "It's been less than a month since-" he broke off and glanced at me- "since the battle anniversary and since the baby incident. There's nothing to regress to. I'm still in it."
"Not quite," George argued gently, shaking his head. "After Bill knocked some sense into you, you seemed to be okay. You've had a few good weeks. We were able to go out to the Leaky Cauldron a few Fridays in a row and you did fine. But you can't lose your shit every time you see Ange and Oliver."
"Who says?" Fred asked. He didn't even give George a chance to answer before he'd changed the subject. "Look who I ran into outside!" he suddenly said loudly, turning and clapping me on the shoulder so hard that I gasped and jerked forward.
"Sophie!" George said, blinking a few times. "Hi. I didn't see you there."
"It's because she's so quiet," Fred announced.
I clenched my jaw and tried not to scowl. Sure, I was quiet, but what did he expect me to say or do during the conversation he'd just been having with George? I certainly couldn't contribute. I barely knew what they were talking about and it definitely wasn't my business.
"Erm, why do you have ice on your forehead?" George asked me curiously.
"I hit her with the door," Fred announced.
George groaned and rolled his eyes at Fred before looking at me. "Are you okay?" he asked, peering at me in concern.
"Fine," I answered with a tiny smile. "Fred took care of me, believe it or not."
"Georgie, guess what?" Fred asked. "She's watched a total of half a Quidditch match in her entire life."
George stared at me with just as much shock on his face as Fred had, while I just blinked back at him in uncertainty.
"How is that possible?" George asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. It's just...how things happened, I guess."
"That's just not right," George went on. "You'd enjoy it if you went to more matches and got the hang of watching them. You can't make an accurate assessment after just half a match."
I shrugged. "I guess not, but it's too late now."
"You could always come over to the Burrow and play Quidditch with us," George offered. "We don't have an official pitch-just a large clearing surrounded by trees-but we play loads of unofficial games out there. Have been since we were kids."
"The Burrow?" I asked in confusion.
"It's what we call the house that we grew up in," George said. "When Mum was pregnant with Ginny, her great aunt Muriel told us our family bred like rabbits, so Bill jokingly said that made our house a burrow and the name just stuck." He paused. "So, what do you say? Want to stop by sometime? You can come tomorrow, in fact. Your day off, our day off, we go to the Burrow every Sunday...it's perfect."
"Do you really want Mum to make assumptions, though?" Fred asked, finishing off his drink and raising his eyebrows at George, who rolled his eyes before turning to me. "Besides, you know someone will bring up you-know-what."
I looked away and tried to hide my sudden discomfort. I assumed Fred was talking about his brother's death. It was too bad that someone already had brought up you-know-what.
"Fred thinks our mother-and our whole family, really-will assume you're his girlfriend," George told me.
"Merlin, George," Fred groaned in exasperation, tipping his head back.
"I'm not," I said lamely. "I'm not his girlfriend."
Fred lifted his head back up and looked at George. "They are going to wonder if something's up. They'll see me with a girl and immediately wonder if I'm moving on. If I'm fixed. And then I'll have to let them down and say that I'm not. And then they'll be disappointed, as if being in a relationship is the one thing that determines how normal I am."
"It's not the only thing, but it's a start. It's part of it," George said with a shrug. He glanced back over at the table they'd been sitting at earlier. "You don't seem too worried about Ginny, Harry, Ron and the others noticing you over here with Sophie now," George pointed out, looking at Fred.
"They won't notice," Fred said confidently. "They're not even paying attention to us. Particularly the two lovebirds." He rolled his eyes. "Where's the bartender? I need another drink."
"No, you do not," George insisted, yanking his brother's arm down from signaling the bartender. "Come on, mate, you know I'm one for having fun and all that, but until I'm sure you've got a hold of yourself, I'm not letting you get out of hand. You'd do the same for me. So knock it off."
Once again, I found myself in the middle of some awkward conversation that I didn't think I should have had any part of, so I finally mustered up the courage to stand from my stool and set the ice down on the counter. "You know, thanks for the offer, George, but I'll pass. Actually, I was just about to get going, so...I'll see you two around."
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" George called after me as I began to walk away.
I turned and looked at him as I nodded. "Yeah, thanks for the offer, though."
"Don't let Fred scare you away," George said. "He's not usually this off his game."
I looked at Fred and met his eyes. I smiled almost wryly at him. "It's not him," I said. "It's me."
To my surprise, Fred actually let out a snort of laughter. I smiled a bit wider and gave them both a small wave before weaving my way towards the front door and heading home.
Despite Sunday being my day off, I found myself in the Leaky Cauldron kitchen the next morning, leaning against the counter as Kyle prepared for breakfast and Rachel, Kayla, and Allie tied on their aprons.
"So hungover," Rachel groaned, tipping her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.
"At least you didn't throw up at all," Kayla said. "And at least you didn't see the love of your life kissing another girl." She smirked at Allie and gave her a playful shove. "Isn't that right, Al?"
Allie turned a bright red as Kayla and Rachel hooted with laughter. Rachel stopped abruptly and grabbed her head. "It hurts to laugh," she whimpered.
"I honestly don't know why you girls get drunk enough to be this hungover the night before you have to work," Kyle said.
"We're not going to pass up going out on a Saturday night just because we work the next day," Rachel said. "We work more Sundays than we have off, so where's the fun of staying in every Saturday that happens?"
"You're just an old family man now," Kayla said. "You've crossed over into being officially boring."
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I can't wait to see what you call me when I tell you I brought some hangover potion with me this morning." He tilted his head towards the small nook at the back of the kitchen where the staff kept their belongings. "Check the pocket of my coat."
"You may be boring Kyle, but you're a lifesaver." Kayla groaned appreciatively and headed over to retrieve the potion.
"I don't think you're boring, Kyle," I chimed in, looking over at him with a smile.
"Thank you, Mouse," Kyle said. "I knew I always liked you the most."
"Kyle is boring and you're a kiss-ass, Sophie!" Kayla called from where she was rummaging in Kyle's coat pocket. "Hey, found your wallet, Kyle. Can I borrow five Galleons?"
"Hands off my money," Kyle ordered, summoning a salt shaker from a shelf and sprinkling salt into one of the pans in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel and Allie. "Anyway, let's backtrack a bit, here. You said the love of Allie's life was kissing another girl. You're talking about Oliver Wood? Allie's Oliver Wood? Kissing another girl? Do I have to exchange some words with him? Throw a few punches?"
"Kyle," Allie groaned, letting out a long sigh. "He was never technically mine. You know that."
"Yeah, but you've liked him for the longest out of anyone. That has to count for something. I doubt whoever he was kissing has liked him for what, four years? Five years? Including the last few when you said you were 'over him'." He made quote marks in the air, the wooden spoon he was holding wiggling in his hand as he did so.
"Shut up!" Allie laughed.
"So, who was he kissing? Do tell," Kyle said, setting the spoon down and using his wand to start cracking some eggs.
"Angelina Johnson," Kayla said.
Kyle nodded thoughtfully. "You have to admit, they make a good pair."
"You're not supposed to say that," Kayla said knowingly as Allie rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to take Allie's side." She returned from getting the hangover potions from Kyle's coat and kept a vial for herself before passing one to Rachel and one to Allie
Kyle shrugged. "Just stating an opinion." He finally turned to me. "How about you, Mouse? Did you enjoy yourself? Let out a bit of that wild woman that I know is in there somewhere?"
Rachel snorted. "No. She was just as quiet there as she is here. And she barely drank. Although, perhaps it's a good thing. We needed someone to balance out the rest of us." She paused and shook her head before sharing an exasperated look with Kyle. "And then she just left early! Without saying goodbye!"
Kyle raised his eyebrows at me and I simply shrugged before turning back to Rachel. "You weren't that drunk," I said.
"On a scale of one to ten," Rachel said, "with ten being the most drunk...what were we?"
I thought about that for a second. "A five. And three quarters."
"That's pretty generous," Kayla said, downing the hangover potion and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I felt like a twenty."
"Me too," Rachel groaned. She looked at me. "I am glad you at least came out with us, though. Even if you disappeared for a bit. And then left early." She mock glared at me. "The only reason I'm not totally mad at you is because I know you were with Fred Weasley!" She, Kayla and Allie cackled while I blushed.
"We saw you at the bar with him," Kayla added.
"Fred Weasley, huh?" Kyle asked. "I told you he and George were curious about you."
"Everyone is curious about me," I said. "It's nothing unusual."
"So..." Allie said with a smile, "Fred or Noah?"
"Yeah, we know Noah asked you out!" Kayla exclaimed. "Or at least, he started to. So, who's it going to be?"
"Neither," I said vigorously, shaking my head. "I don't need or want a boyfriend."
"Now that I think of it, though," Kayla said slowly, "what was that I heard George yelling to you before you left? Sounded like he was asking you about going somwhere?" She smiled wider. "What was that about? Did he ask you to hang out with them?"
I shot her a look. "How were you able to comprehend all this? I thought you felt like a twenty on the drunk scale?"
Kayla shrugged. "I was, which was why I didn't quite realize you'd actually left. But being drunk does not make me deaf." She smiled. "So did he ask you to hang out with him or not?"
"I'm not going," I insisted as a way of answering.
"Going where?" she asked, looking at me innocently.
I scowled at her. "He invited me to go to their parents' house today and play Quidditch in their backyard. I'm not going. I don't play Quidditch and besides, Fred doesn't want me there. George told me right out the family will automatically assume I'm Fred's girlfriend. I really don't have the time for things like this. And I barely know them. So..." I trailed off, a lame end to my rambling, and looked up to see everyone staring at me.
"Unbelievable," Kayla said, shaking her head and looking at the others. "This girl gets asked out twice in one night by two gorgeous guys and I had to practically hit Chris over the head with a brick to ask me out on a first date. I always thought the key was to be social, but maybe I've been going about it all wrong. Maybe I should just become silent and let the boys come flocking."
"Yeah, maybe you should," Allie said, rolling her eyes. "Be silent, I mean."
Rachel snorted and Kayla scowled.
"I didn't get asked out at all, technically," I said. "Noah didn't get the chance and George invited me to simply hang out as friends. In fact, the last thing they want is anyone thinking it's a date."
"Kayla's just kidding," Rachel said, now looking at me. "You'll get used to her humor eventually." She shrugged. "George has a girlfriend anyway, which Kayla is well aware of. But as for George's invite-you have to go!"
"What?" I asked in surprise. "I can't! I can't just show up at their parents' house. That's rude. Besides, I don't know where it is or how to get there."
"It's still early," Rachel pointed out. "It's only breakfast time. In an hour or two, head on over to the joke shop and tell Fred and George you've changed your mind."
"No," I insisted.
"Sophie!" Rachel exclaimed, setting her hands on her hips and giving me a playfully stern look.
"Why do you want me to go so much anyway?" I asked.
"Because you don't have a valid reason not to," she said. "Today is your day off and trust me, you do not want to spend it hanging around here."
"That would be utterly pathetic," Kayla chimed in.
I bit my lip and looked away as Rachel elbowed Kayla in the side.
"Sorry," Kayla shrugged, "it's just...you must be a little bit interested. Everyone's interested in Fred and George in some way or another. Whether it's a good or bad interest depends on the person. Some are interested in their joke shop success and their humor. Others are curious about what happened last May and how they're responding. It's just like everyone's interested in you. You two have something in common."
"I'm not interested in prying into their personal business," I insisted. "If they wanted me to know about their brother, they would have told me already themselves."
Kayla smiled wryly. "Okay, fine. Regardless of how curious you may or not be, I still think part of you must want to go just to make some friends. Everybody wants to have friends. Everybody wants people to talk and relate to. Even the quiet, closed off ones." She raised her eyebrows. "It's human nature. We're not supposed to be completely solitary."
I stared at her for a moment as I thought over what she'd said. She did have a point. I'd been thinking along similar lines myself over the past week or so. Finally, I shook my head. "I can't just...walk up to their flat and invite myself again after I already said no."
"Of course you can," Rachel insisted.
I shook my head again and pushed off the counter. "I don't even play Quidditch. I've never even been on a broom. All I'll do is make a fool out of myself."
"How do you know?" Rachel asked, but Kyle cut her off.
"Hey, just let it rest, okay?" he said. "Besides, you three need to get to work. Some of the guests should be down for breakfast by now."
I stood there as Rachel, Kayla and Allie grabbed their notepads and headed out of the kitchen. Once they were gone, I looked at Kyle. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he answered, flashing me a smile. "What are you really planning on doing with your day off?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure I can find something to do. Chores or something."
Kyle stared at me in wonder. "Amazing," he said, shaking his head. "Chores on your day off."
I rolled my eyes and headed for the back staircase. "Shut it," I muttered.
Once I was upstairs, I walked aimlessly around the flat for a bit, straightening some things on the kitchen counters and the coffee table in the living room, just to have something to do with my hands. But the truth was that my mind had wandered to that diary hidden in the back of my closet. I was alone, I had some free time and it was quiet. It was the perfect time to look at it. But did I want to? I couldn't seem to make up my mind. I debated it over and over in my head. I was curious, but frightened. It could be cursed. But then again, it would have done something to me by now. It would have done something to me when I picked it up. Although maybe not necessarily. I just couldn't make up my mind.
Finally, I wandered into my bedroom, where I could almost sense the diary sitting there, behind the wood of my closet door and tucked behind a pair of shoes. It was almost as if it were calling out to me. I stood in the middle of the room for what felt like ages until I finally couldn't take it anymore. I made a beeline for the closet, yanked open the door and pulled the worn, tattered diary from the ground. It was brittle and tattered and practically falling apart. I was half hoping that it would fall apart in my hands. But it didn't and my curiosity was getting the better of both me and my nerves.
Walking back over to my bed, I slowly sunk down and leaned against the pillows as I turned the diary over and over. And then taking a deep breath, I gingerly opened it to the first entry.
March, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.
I am beginning this diary because I am fearful. I am fearful for the well-being of myself, my dear husband, and the friends we have here. Mary Warren, our servant girl has been acting funny. She falls into odd fits, screaming for her life in the middle of the night. She claims old Giles Corey is practicing witchcraft. She claims he has been projecting his spirit to her room and torturing her terribly.
If I am being honest, I have always known Giles to be a bit batty and short-tempered, but he would not dare harm another. We all made a promise long ago, when we first came here to Salem, that we would not risk ourselves. We would not expose ourselves. The danger would be too great. I thought Giles knew better. Unless something has caused him to slip up.
We have all practiced a bit of projection magic here and there, in addition to our regular magic, but as I have stated, we all promised to be wise about it. And do it scarcely. It's hard at times-most of the time, really. It is who we are and it is unhealthy to keep it bottled in. Which is why we decided not to contain it altogether, despite the risks. Despite how much some of the inhabitants of this town like to taunt anyone who they believe is a little strange or different. The younger girls especially. Sometimes I suspect they would do most anything to stir up a bit of action.
Take poor Sarah Good and her daughter, Dorothy, for example. While Sarah's husband looks for work, Sarah and her daughter wander the town, begging for money. Most of the time, they are sneered at and turned away. Taunted. Teased. Looked down upon. I can hardly bear it. I try to give food and money when I can, but I cannot do much. I mostly will give them my company when they need it. I sneak them into the house for some food and drink and conversation. We have grown to be very friendly as of lately. We need to stick together, especially if things start to escalate with Mary and the other girls.
I've tried to talk to Mary, but I fear that if this news spreads, it will spread like wildfire. It may already be too late. If news about any kind of witchcraft, whether the actual stories are true or not, gets around town, there will be a very thorough investigation. Witchcraft is not taken too kindly here. Many are fearful of it. They believe it is the Devil's work. If anyone is accused of witchcraft in this town, they are to be sentenced to death.
No matter how careful we are to keep our magic to ourselves and to not let any non-magic folk see, it is hard to say who will be accused and of what. Fear spreads and grows like a wildfire. It makes people do and say things they would not normally do or say. It makes them lie and it makes them desperate. It makes them do what it takes to keep themselves on the right side of safety. I cannot say I blame them. I would do anything to protect myself and the ones I love. But we are not the ones people need protection from.
In fact, if a witch hunt begins here in Salem, we will be the ones in need of protection. If a witch hunt begins in Salem, the people I love may not last to the year's end. If a witch hunt begins in Salem, I could be one of the casualties.
"What are you reading?"
I let out a shriek and quite nearly fell off my bed at the sudden voice as my heartbeat skyrocketed. I already had a chill down my spine and goosebumps on my arms from that diary entry, but I had not been expecting to hear anyone speak in the silence of the flat. I looked towards the doorway and saw Fred and George standing there, casually leaning against either side of the door, like bookends.
"Someone is certainly jumpy," Fred commented.
"What is wrong with you two? How did you get in here?" I gasped, standing up and depositing the diary on my bed without even thinking to hide it.
"Rachel told us to use the back staircase," Fred said. "She said it led straight up here."
"Yes, but how did you get here? Into the flat? We keep the door locked. Only me, Tom and Martha can get in."
"We dismantled the charm, then picked the lock with a hairpin." Fred said casually, as if what he and George had done was the easiest thing on the planet.
I gaped at the two of them, unsure if I should feel unsettled or impressed by the fact that they'd not only figured out what kind of charm was on the door, but also dismantled it, then picked the lock. I was leaning more towards unsettled. If they could do it, who else could?
"Well, I guess I should thank you because now I know that this place needs better security, and I can mention it to Tom," I finally said as the twins snorted with laughter. "You could have just knocked, you know."
"Where's the fun in that?" Fred asked with a grin. When I rolled my eyes, he chuckled. "Actually, we did start with a knock. Seems to me like you didn't hear it. You were clearly too engrossed in whatever you were reading."
"You know, that was some scream, by the way," George commented casually.
"Who knew you could yell like that?" Fred asked. "It was impressive, actually."
I glared at him before looking away. "Of course you'd think it's funny that you scared the shit out of me," I muttered under my breath.
"Didn't catch that," Fred said briskly, stepping into the room and looking around. George followed him and I scowled.
"Nothing," I answered, watching with discomfort as they surveyed my room. "So why did Rachel send you up here?"
"She wrote to us," George said. "Said you'd changed your mind about playing Quidditch with us today. But from the looks of it, she set you up, didn't she?"
I nodded. "Sorry."
"See?" Fred said, raising his eyebrows at George. "She doesn't actually want to come."
"Merlin's beard, Fred, will you stop getting yourself in a twist about this? I'll tell Mum she's my girlfriend if you want," George said.
"No," I said. "I'm no one's girlfriend."
"George, you already have a girlfriend," Fred pointed out. "You were just with Katie last night, or did you forget? I know I didn't. Especially back at the flat later when you forgot to put up a silencing charm and I had to bang on the wall to alert you that I was in the bathroom taking a leak."
My mouth fell open in shock. Honestly, did these two have any sort of filter?
"I already apologized for that," George said coolly. "And okay, maybe I'm grasping at straws here with things that'll make you feel better about Sophie coming over. If you're going to be that weird about bringing girls around, I need to do something to convince you. But you know, maybe it's better if you let them all assume you're moving on with your life. Weren't you also complaining a few weeks ago that Mum was giving you that look? The pity look? Weren't you upset that she cried when you didn't show up after Victoire was born?"
"That's enough," Fred said firmly, setting his jaw.
I stared at them uncomfortably. How did they always manage to do this? End up talking amongst themselves as if I weren't even here? It was maddening. I kept getting bits and pieces of whatever had gone down with them, but never the full story. At this point, I just wanted all or nothing. I didn't want this half-formed, jigsaw puzzle of a story that left me confused and feeling left out. I fought back a snort at the irony. Left out of a story I didn't even know if I wanted to be a part of.
I cleared my throat. "Look, if you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of something..."
"Yeah, we noticed," Fred said, rapidly turning back to me and changing the subject away from him. He reached down and swiftly picked up the diary that was lying on my bed. "What were you reading?"
"Fred, no," I said, reaching for the tattered diary, but Fred held it out of my reach.
"Or were you writing?" he asked. "Is this a diary?"
"Fred!" I said desperately, stretching to reach for the book, but Fred was too tall. He smirked down at me as I jumped for the diary.
"What were you writing about?" he asked. "Lots of secrets? Perhaps how utterly handsome you find me?"
"Give it back!" I demanded firmly, my voice coming out forceful and loud-very unusual for me. I almost surprised myself and I definitely surprised Fred because he froze, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at me.
"Fine, fine, I guess you can't take a joke after all," he said, tossing the diary back onto my bed.
"It was a stupid joke," I retaliated.
Fred raised his eyebrows. "Like I said, maybe you just can't handle them." He stared me down for a bit longer as I continued to glare at him. And then finally, he turned for the door. "Come on, George, let's go. We're going to be late."
George stared at me a moment longer as I wrapped my arms around myself and looked at the floor in embarrassment, my defensive glare slipping away. Finally, a look of determination came over George's face as he quickly reached out and grabbed the diary from my bed. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "I'll hand it over if you agree to come with us."
"What?" I asked in shock as Fred turned and raised his eyebrows at his brother.
"You heard me," George said. "I give it back if you come and hang out with us."
"That's not fair!" I argued, crossing my arms.
"I think it's more than fair," George said. "Rachel must've written to us for a reason. She clearly wants you to get out for a bit."
"I get out," I answered indingnantly. "I just went out with them yesterday!"
"And then you escaped to go stand outside by the trashcans, and then went home early. It's not hard to figure out you're lonely, Sophie. Even looking at you now, I can see it. You want friendship, but you keep pushing everyone away. Not anymore." He held up the diary. "You're coming with us and you're meeting our family if you want this back."
I clenched my jaw as my face turned red. "This is none of your business. My life is none of your business. Not yours, not Rachel's. Nobody's."
"Just leave her, George," Fred said. "Why are you so determined for her to come anyway? What do you care if she's lonely or not?"
"Don't you?" George asked, turning to his brother. "I keep finding you off talking to her. You dragged her in for a tour of the shop. Brought her into the back and everything. You're seeing the same thing the rest of us are seeing. I thought that Sophie could use some friends and that both of you could use someone to talk to."
"I have people to talk to," Fred answered gruffly. "I have you."
"I know. But I don't think I've been enough."
"Of course you're enough," Fred answered.
"Am I?" George asked. "Because I've been trying to get you to talk for the past year and you've only done so on the most basic level and you continued to get drunk and act out." He shrugged. "Something needs to change, and I think a fresh face could be good for you." He tilted his head towards me.
"So you want to use me?" I asked quietly, feeling my stomach clench. Just when I'd thought the twins would be different. "You want to use me to help him stop drinking?" I gestured to Fred. "You can't be serious."
"No, that's not what I want," George said. "I want to help Fred, but I think you could use the help as well. It's not hard to see you've got some stuff pent up inside of you. You're solitary. It's not healthy to be so alone."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I asked, letting out a sigh.
"Because it's the truth," George responded.
"So, let me get this straight," Fred said. "You want me and Sophie to be some kind of two person support group?"
George shrugged. "Something like that."
Fred shook his head. "No."
"I can barely even handle my own issues, never mind someone else's," I chimed in.
Fred snorted. "Glad we're on the same page."
George scowled. "Fine. I just thought you two had been getting along fairly well. And you've both acted pretty similarly. You've both got secrets from your pasts that you refuse to talk about to each other. And yet, you keep spending time together."
"It's never been planned," Fred argued. "We've just run into each other a few times."
"Literally," I muttered as Fred snorted out a laugh.
"Neither one of you wants to bother with involving yourselves or the other person in each other's problems," George went on, "but, Fred, Merlin knows you've fought your own family and friends every time we try to help you. Like I said, I thought maybe you'd listen to someone else. And maybe Sophie could give some different sort of insight..."
"She's not a damn therapist," Fred snorted.
"That's for sure" I said. "You two know nothing about me. And, George, it's not my job to fix your brother, just like it's not his job to fix me."
George was quiet for a moment, but I noticed that he stiffened slightly at my words. "You're right," he finally whispered, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He shrugged. "It's not your job and maybe it's an unfair thing to ask of you. But it's not really what I'm asking. I'm just asking-" he took in a breath and shook his head as he let it out. "Right now, I'm really just asking you over for dinner and a game of Quidditch. Simple as that. If you never want to come over or see us again after today, then so be it. Either way, the offer does still stand, if not solely for the fact that I do like to make new friends." He broke into a wry smile. "And I think you'd like my family. Although, there are quite a few of them, so they might scare you completely into silent hermit mode."
"George, shut up," Fred said, rolling his eyes.
"I'll come," I said, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. I looked at Fred. "I'll tell your entire family I hate you with a passion if you'd like and I'm really only there because George is my new best friend."
The twins looked at each other before turning back to me.
"Why the change of mind?" Fred asked, staring at me with a raised eyebrow. "Is it just the fact that George threatened to not give your diary back?"
I chewed on my lip. That was partly it, but I didn't want to tell George that he was right. I was lonely, I hated being lonely, and the moments I'd been spending with Fred had been nice-once I'd gotten past being practically afraid of him.
I also couldn't quite tell them that what I'd read in the diary had gotten me freaked out. I couldn't tell them that if I stayed here, I'd get absorbed in the thing and start overthinking it all. I already was overthinking it. I had in my possession an actual diary from 1692 Salem. I had an actual diary of one of the witnesses of the Salem witch trials. Those trials were famous, particularly in America, and I had grown up in Salem. I'd grown up knowing all about them, and like most people, being curious and almost fascinated by them. But I'd forgotten over the years-I'd had bigger things to worry about. And now I had what appeared to be an actual diary from that time. It was eerie and left me with a lot more questions. Who had the diary before me? Where had they gotten it? Why were they here in England? Was all this intentional or just a coincidence? I had no idea and my head was buzzing. If I stayed here in the flat alone, I'd surely make myself crazy.
"Earth to Sophie," George suddenly said, stepping towards me and waving a hand in front of my face. "Are you okay? You look a bit funny. You sure you want to come with us?"
"I just zoned out," I said quietly, rubbing the back of my neck and looking at the ground. "Sorry." I looked up and glanced from one twin to the other. "Yeah, I'll go with you. I do want the diary back, but truthfully...I also-I do get a little stir crazy being here all day every day."
"Really," Fred said in amusement. "The silent, solitary, people hating hermit gets stir crazy."
"I don't hate people," I protested.
"Perhaps, but you are definitely a silent hermit." He paused. "Or at least...partially silent."
"If you don't want me to go, I can stay here," I said. "Or, like I said, I can tell everyone I hate you." I half-smiled and shrugged.
Fred chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "No, you don't have to say you hate me," he said. "But if anyone asks, we are not dating. We just met."
"So just tell the truth, then," I said, smiling wider.
"Yeah," Fred said slowly, returning the smile. "The truth." There was a pause. "Although, I doubt anyone will believe it. Not at first, anyway."
I stood there silently, not sure of what to say. Finally: "I'm not on board with this support group thing either," I said. "In fact, I came here without a single intention of making friends. I don't even know how to make friends."
"That's obvious," Fred snorted.
I sent him a glare. "Everyone else seems to have different intentions. They won't take no for an answer. Including the two of you. I just..." I trailed off and let out a sigh, unsure of what else to say. What could I say? I hadn't had normal social interaction in years? I was a bit rusty? My deprivation had made me want it even more so now, at even the slightest prospect of it?
"Everyone needs friends," George said quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah. I know. I want them more than anything. But it's not easy for me, okay?"
The twins were quiet for a moment. I knew they wanted to ask me to elaborate. I know they wanted to know what my deal was. But even still, I didn't bother to offer up any information on my own and they didn't pry, either.
"Fred?" George finally said. "Are you in? Can she come?"
Fred shrugged and blew a puff of air out of his mouth as he looked at the ceiling. "Sure. Why not? But no support group talk. No talking about our issues and certainly no weeping."
I nodded. "Agreed."
"Then let's go," Fred said, a wide smile back on his face suddenly. He nodded towards my nightstand. "Is that your wand? Don't forget it."
I turned and looked at my wand, still pretty new and given to me by Ollivander not long after I'd arrived here. I liked it a lot. It was made of oak and had a unicorn tail core. It was ten inches long and the wood was smooth, except for the handle, which had little swirl shapes etched into it. The wand further solidified my plans for a fresh start. New place, new people, new wand. Leave the old stuff behind. I grabbed it and gripped it in my hand as Fred lightly grabbed my wrist. Even at the light contact, I still startled and flinched away.
"We have to Apparate together," Fred explained with a raised eyebrow. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm not trying to hold your hand."
I clenched my jaw and looked away as Fred grabbed my wrist again. He asked if I was ready and I nodded. He counted to three and we disappeared from the flat with a loud pop.
