March 6th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

It's been four days since my last entry. In that entry, I confessed in writing my fears that a witch hunt would soon begin in Salem. Mary Warren, our family servant, was claiming to have been attacked by Giles Corey's spirit projection. Now, two of the other girls in town are joining in the accusations. Abigail Williams accused Mr. Samuel Parris' servant, Tituba, of witcraft. Only because Samuel's daughter has fallen ill. Abigail claims that Tituba forced she and young Miss Betty Parris to participate in the 'devil's work' and that is the reason for Betty's illness. Honestly, Tituba wouldn't think to touch either of those girls, even though most of us have wished to at times. Even myself, regrettably. I know it is a sin to think such things, but to be fair, Abigail is very difficult to get along with. If she had not been traipsing through the woods looking for trouble, she would not have seen Tituba practicing her magic. Abigail has never had reason to go into the woods before-usually her parents do not allow it, but clearly they have let this slide in light of recent events. Unbelievable, if you ask me.

Poor Tituba, in an act of panic and fear and in an attempt to save herself, admitted to everything. She was told that if she admitted to it, she'd be spared from execution. She was told that then her fate would be in God's hands, not the hands of the people. Just as long as she confessed. She has also given a few names of others in town, accusing them of witchcraft. One of the names was Sarah Good. I consider Sarah a dear friend and I may be the only one in town to do so. Most just turn her away and scoff at her, refusing to give her work or money or food. I tried to convince my husband to let her work some hours at the tavern we run. He sympathizes with Sarah, but told me it was not a good idea for us to associate with her. I disagree, but John's word was final and I am in no place to dispute him. Most days-when I am able, of course-I sneak Sarah inside the house and we have a bit to eat while we talk and enjoy each other's company. She usually has her four year old child, Dorothy, with her. We have become very good friends. And now dear Sarah has been arrested, leaving her daughter and husband alone, and still very much homeless, starving and lonely.

I had told Sarah that she must be nicer to people who did not want to give her any help. She does have a bit of a temper, and a terrible habit of muttering under her breath and sending glares towards people who refused to help. I told her that would not do any good for her. Besides now working against her and making her an easy accusal, it just does not do to appear that hostile towards our neighbors. Despite her having all the reason to.

For these exact reasons, I have always been the one trying to remind everyone to lay low. If anyone notices anything odd, it could be used against us. And now it is. But I cannot ask everyone to stop doing magic altogether. It is not healthy. It is clear that nowhere is safe anymore. I have done all I can to keep attention away from myself and my family, especially negative attention. I am kind, I am pleasant, I am friendly. I do not cause trouble with anyone. And I practice my magic in a secret space, covered with heavy charms. I cannot say where, in case this diary falls into the wrong hands. The only reason I have not told anyone about it is because only family-family by blood, that is-can get in. Not even my husband can get in, which pains me, not being able to share it with him. He is my husband, after all. But my grandmother was the one who put up the charms and not even I am unsure how to change them. Besides, in the light of recent events-if they were to come for John or me and torture us or promise freedom if we tell everything we know, well, the less people who know, the better. I keep this diary there to help protect it and all my secrets. If anyone were to find it, I would be done for. It does contain a confession-meaning I'd be spared from execution. But it would also mean I should have to give out names. Names of my friends. And I refuse to betray them like that.

For now, I just have to pray that nobody should come to my door with a warrant for my arrest. Can you imagine that? Arrested for being who you are? Arrested for something out of your control? I hardly dare to believe it myself, but here we are. I pray that one day, us magical folk will not have to live in fear. I hope for change. I may not live to see it, but I hope for it. For the safety of my friends and the future generations of witches.

I closed the diary and sat back into my pillows, rubbing my tired eyes as I did so. Goosebumps were covering my arms. What had happened to this woman? I supposed I would have to keep reading to find out, but I wasn't sure if I could take more than one entry at a time. This was eerie stuff. Not to mention grim. And it was all true. This had all happened. Poor Elizabeth. And poor Sarah. I could hardly imagine what she had experienced in the jail. The others that had been arrested as well.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought over the entry I had just read. Elizabeth had written that she had kept the diary in a secret room only accessible to blood relatives. Which meant that either a blood relative had gone in and stolen it, or Elizabeth had had it on her and it had been passed from person to person that way. Or maybe someone had figured out how to break into her secret room. I hated to think of any of those options. I hated to think of what happened to her. But part of me was also curious to find out.

And not to mention, I was still worried about the person who'd brought me this diary. Was it a blood relative of Elizabeth's that had had it before me? Had it been stolen? And why would they pass it on to me, whoever it was? Was someone following me? For good or bad reasons? A man or a woman? I had no answers and I'd witnessed nothing else out of the ordinary since I'd found the diary.

George, true to his word, despite his dampened mood on Sunday night, had given the diary back to me once we'd returned to the Leaky Cauldron, and it had gone right back into my closet, where it had stayed until now-Thursday evening. Or, technically Friday morning, I thought as I glanced at my watch and saw that it was half past midnight. I stared aimlessly at the wall as I realized that Friday meant that the twins would be coming to the Leaky Cauldron later.

I hadn't seen them since Sunday and I was unsure where we stood. I was anxious about seeing them. Would they talk to me or ignore me? Would they be in a good mood or a bad mood? How was Fred doing? And more than that, why did I care about what they would think or if they'd talk to me? Shouldn't I be hoping they wouldn't? It's what I'd wanted when I had come here, hadn't it? To stay low, fly under the radar and leave once I had enough money? The fact that I was so worried about our relationship was throwing me off more than I had intended.

The rest of the time at the Burrow on Sunday had been odd to say the least. We hadn't left early, but I almost wanted to. Things were tense between the twins and I afterwards and I found myself staying close to Ginny and Hermione. Even when the twins brought me home later, there had been an uneasy silence between us as we Apparated from the Burrow to the Leaky Cauldron. Fred had refused to speak or look at me. Even George had wordlessly handed me the diary, uttered a quiet goodbye, and then he and Fred had left, heading down the alley towards the joke shop.

But despite all of that and despite the fact that I'd been telling the truth when I'd said that I had a lot of stuff of my own to deal with, I'd been thinking about Fred a lot since Sunday. I hadn't lost a sibling, but I had dealt with loss in general, as well as some other pretty terrible things. I'd never tried to hold my breath as long as I could underwater, but a few times I'd done some pretty adrenaline inducing stuff-tempting fate, almost. Not actively trying to die, but not caring if I did. And wasn't that exactly what Fred was doing every time he went in that pond? Tempting fate?

And of course, I'd made the mistake of telling Rachel that things hadn't gone all that well at the Burrow. I hadn't given her exact details-I certainly was not going to gossip about Fred's well being-but I'd essentially said I'd been told about Percy and that Fred hadn't been too happy about it. I'd also said I wasn't sure if he hated me now or not, which made me fear that she'd say something to them if she saw them at work. That was the last thing I needed.

Rolling over onto my side, I gazed through the window beside my bed that overlooked the alley. I couldn't see the joke shop from the position I was in, but it was in that direction. What was it that was drawing me to Fred even more now than when I'd first met him? Our similarities? Perhaps. Because I still was not looking to help fix him. I didn't even know if I could. But I was curious. Curious about who Fred was now and who he'd been before the war. It saddened me to think that someone who was probably so full of life-he did own a joke shop after all-was harboring so much pain, despite his efforts to hide it and distract himself.

It was all I could think about, and needless to say, I did not get much sleep that night.


"They're here," Rachel informed me around eight thirty on Friday night as she appeared beside me in the kitchen. I was depositing a stack of dirty dishes into the sink. My hair was falling out of my ponytail and wisps of it were framing my face. I had a headache and I was incredibly tired-especially because I hadn't slept much the night before.

"Who's here?" I asked vaguely, playing dumb as I fiddled with the dishrag in my hands.

"You know who," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Funny, I thought he was dead," I answered, turning back to the sink.

"Ha," Rachel laughed. "Now is not the time for your sense of humor. Normally, I'd welcome it from someone as shy as you, but not now. Now, you need to get yourself out there and talk to them!"

"No!" I hissed. "I have a job to do. If I don't do it properly, Tom and Martha will probably not let me stay here anymore."

"No they will not do that," Rachel hissed back. "Don't be so dramatic." When I didn't answer, she went on. "You have to go out there to do your job anyway. At least do that and then see if they say anything to you. If they don't, you have to go talk to them. You can do it on your break if you'd like."

"You just have all the answers, don't you?" I asked, turning to look at her with raised eyebrows.

"Mhm!" she said brightly, nodding and flashing me a smile. "Now go, there are tables to be cleaned and boys to be talked to!" And with that she shooed me out the kitchen door.

I propped my empty bin for dirty dishes against my hip as I made a beeline for the first dirty table I saw, without even bothering to look around the room for the twins. If I avoided them completely, I wouldn't have to talk to them. I also assumed they were sitting at the bar-hopefully-which would be good because it would mean they'd have their backs to me most of the time and I wouldn't have to clean a table beside them either.

I made my way around the pub, cleaning table after table as they became empty, never raising my eyes to look at anyone. Lay low, avoid people, especially the twins. It was time to go back to my original plan of being invisible, making enough money to get on my feet and then keep moving. I couldn't do that if I got too wrapped up in other people's business anyway. I couldn't do that if I got attached to people. The longer I worked, lost in my own thoughts, the more I was able to convince myself of that.

By the time my break came, I felt almost too exhausted to function. My feet hurt, as they typically did from standing for so long, and my eyelids were heavy due to falling asleep late the night before so, overall, I was about ready to collapse. I knew if I took my break inside, Rachel would find me and tell me to go talk to the twins. Besides, I needed some peace and quiet and time to just sit. So I grabbed some water from the kitchen and went out the back door. I always made a point to come out to the back alley when I wanted some peace and quiet. If I went to the side one, I chanced people coming through to go to Diagon Alley. The one I frequented was only accessible by the kitchens.

I lowered myself to the ground against the wall on the opposite side of the alley and closed my eyes as I rested my head against the wall. I had thirty minutes to enjoy the quiet before I had to go back inside and endure another two hours of work and avoiding the twins (also hard work). But with any luck they'd have already left by the time I got back inside. I doubted it, but I could hope, couldn't I?

After five peaceful minutes had flown by, I heard the door open and fought the urge to groan. I didn't need or want to interact with anyone right now. But if it were another co-worker looking to take their break out here, I couldn't necessarily stop them. Or even blame them for that matter. Despite being a dark alleyway, and despite the trash bins, it was probably the only quiet place to take a break. Besides the flat, I guess. But if I had gone up there, I would've ended up falling asleep on the couch. I definitely wasn't about to have that problem sitting on the ground up against a stone wall.

"Hey," a familiar voice suddenly said. "You alive?"

My eyes flew open and I saw Fred leaning against the doorframe, a drink in his hand. I simply stared at him, expressionless. What was he doing out here? He was the one who had gotten upset with me. He was the one who was upset that I knew about Percy. So why was he still talking to me? Besides that, how had he gotten out here? He thought he was just allowed to walk right through the kitchens?

"Ah, good, you are alive," he went on as he ambled over and lowered himself to the ground beside me. I continued to stare at him blankly. I was confused, tired, and a little angry. What did he even think he was doing? If he didn't want to talk to me, why couldn't he leave me alone? It would be easier for both of us.

"Busy in there, isn't it?" Fred went on, taking a sip of his drink as he stared across the alley at the door to the pub. "Then again, it always is on Fridays." He turned and saw me looking at him in exasperation. He chuckled and gave me a tiny smile before he began studying me, taking in my tired, messy appearance. "You look like you've been having a tough night."

I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. After a second, Fred went on. "You okay? Normally you not saying anything isn't cause for a red flag, but you're staring at me as if I have ten heads. Although...this wouldn't be the first time you've stared at me as if I had ten heads..." He trailed off and shrugged.

"You might as well have ten heads," I shrugged, looking away. "I guess I'm talking to the friendly head today, yeah? As opposed to the one who snaps at me for being quiet?" I raised an eyebrow. "The one who's angry that information I didn't ask for was handed to me without much of a warning and it was somehow my fault?"

"That's not why I snapped at you," Fred said quietly. "And, no, it wasn't your fault. I don't think it's your fault."

I let out a quiet sigh and closed my eyes. "I know. Fred, look, I get it. I don't blame you for-"

"No, I owe you an apology," he said. "In fact, that's why I came out here to talk to you."

"Yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry you had to get that information dumped on you and then had to deal with me being a sullen, moody nutter. It's not the image I like to portray to people, especially people I've just met." He shrugged and took a sip of his drink before inhaling deeply and turning to me. "So...yes, my brother died saving my life. Yes, it's left me pretty screwed up. Yes, I used to jump into the pond and hold my breath as long as I could and yes I did it again last weekend because I couldn't handle you finding out so soon, and in that way. I wanted to tell you myself, on my own terms and when I was ready and I couldn't handle that it didn't happen that way. I was angry and frustrated and like I said, I'm still pretty messed up. And I took it out on you. I'm sorry." He reached out and put a hand on my knee. I instinctively stiffened, but he didn't seem to notice.

I stared down at his hand on my knee for a moment before looking up at him seriously. "I have a confession to make." I swallowed thickly. "I found out about Percy before I went to your house. I found out last Saturday, actually. The night I saw you at The Three Broomsticks. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't even want to find out in the first place-but once I knew...I still thought you should have the chance to tell me on your own terms. Which ultimately didn't even happen anyway. But I wanted it to. I thought it was only fair."

Fred let out a deep sigh and took his hand off my knee, rubbing it over his face instead. "Let me guess-Rachel told you?"

I nodded. "I tried to stop her, but..." I trailed off and shrugged. "I don't think she had bad intentions, though."

"No, I don't think so either," Fred said. "She's nice, but she and her friends do like to gossip. And I get it-people talk. I just...wish they wouldn't."

"I know," I whispered, staring down at my hands. "Trust me, I know. In any case, I'm sorry. About everything."

"Thanks," Fred said quietly.

"And for the record," I went on, "I never gave you a pity look. You said that was one of the reasons you didn't want me to know. You didn't want me to give you a look of pity. I knew about Percy Saturday night and you never caught on, so I must not have been giving you any kind of look. I mean, like I said, I am sorry he's dead and I'm sorry you're suffering. I don't wish that kind of pain on people. But...I don't plan on treating you like a charity case. I don't want to make things worse for you when you're just trying to move on. Besides, I honestly just don't have the time or the energy for charity cases. Especially because sometimes I think I could qualify as being one myself."

Fred blinked at me in awe, his jaw slack. "Wow. That was...honest."

Ignoring him, I plowed on. "That being said, you should know that you don't have to forget your brother or not talk about him. If you can't right now, then you can't. Take your time. But don't forget him. It's not going to do you any good. And if I overstep or do something that sets you off, you can tell me, instead of losing your temper. I may be reserved and closed off, but I can handle people telling me to back off. More than you might realize, actually."

Fred swallowed and then seemed to compose himself. "I think this is the most you've talked to me since we've met. You know...I don't think shyness is quite your problem."

"No?" I asked.

Fred shook his head. "I think you're quiet, sure, but there's a difference between quiet and shy. You talk to people just fine once you get going. It just takes some loosening up. And a discussion topic that's not yourself." He shrugged. "So you're quiet and, as you've said, closed off. Not so much shy. Something made you quiet. I don't think shyness can quite be created in the same way. I don't think a shy person would come right out and tell me the stuff you told me. About the pity look and not treating me like a charity case. They'd be more inclined to keep it to themselves."

"It was honesty," I said. "Shy people can be honest."

"Yeah, but like I said, if you were as shy as you seem to think you are, I'm not sure you would've told me that. You still don't know me that well."

I shrugged and looked down at the ground, avoiding eye contact. "I just wanted you to know that you were wrong about me. I didn't feel as if your frustration was justified and I wanted to clear it up. Knowing about Percy didn't change the way I saw you."

"And how was that?" Fred asked. "How did you see me?"

I let a puff of air out of my mouth. "To be honest...at first I was a bit weary of you. You were certainly talkative and I also couldn't make sense of you and George. You would joke, but without actually making fun of me, even though sometimes I thought you were. Making fun of me, I mean. I felt awkward and uncomfortable at times, but I liked talking to you. And...I could tell when I first met you that you'd been through something. Marcus Flint hinted at it with the comment he made the night I first met you. And then Rachel told me about Percy, but before that, I could just tell. A part of you seemed...tired. But besides that, you were still a friendly, intelligent, kindhearted person who wasn't afraid to stick up for a total stranger when a group of jerks disrespected her." I gave him a timid half smile. "No one's ever done something like that for me before."

"They're more than jerks," Fred said. "They're utter baboons."

I giggled. "In any case, I know how you feel. I know what it's like not wanting people to see you a certain way. To think you're that person. The person with a dead brother. Or whatever the case may be." I shrugged. "I'm pretty secretive myself."

"I've noticed," Fred said. "I think everyone has." He studied me seriously for a moment. "You know how you said you could tell when you met me that I'd been through something? Well, maybe I felt-feel-the same about you. My theory is that-like I said-not only are you more closed off and guarded than shy, but something in your life has made you this way. Something made you put up ten foot brick walls, topped off with barbed wire. You don't want people's pity either, same as me. And you don't have to feel obligated to share anything if you don't want to. But on the same token, if you're going to be so honest with me, you should at least consider letting me do the same for you."

I looked at him in slight surprise. "Thanks," I said. "Noted. But I think my story's a little more lengthy than yours. More complicated. Messier."

"Are you in trouble with the law?" Fred asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. "I think I at least deserve the right to know if I'm befriending a fugitive."

I half-smiled as I tried to ignore the feeling of happiness spreading through me at the use of the word befriending. "No, no trouble with the law."

"Good," Fred said.

I stared at him for a moment before standing up and stretching. "Well, my half an hour's pretty much up. I've got to get back to work."

"That went by fast," Fred commented, standing up beside me and dusting off his jeans

"It always does," I answered with a wry smile. I headed for the door and pulled it open. Fred followed me inside and we both hesitated at the door.

"I meant to ask you," I began. "Why did you come out to the back alley?"

"To find you," Fred said simply. "I told you I wanted to apologize. I've been trying to get your attention all night, but it was hard to even make eye contact. You refused to look up from what you were doing. So I had to take matters into my own hands."

"Did you ask to walk through the entire kitchen?" I asked. "An area strictly for employees?"

"No," Fred said with a shrug. "I just walked through. Kyle sent me a look, and I told him I was leaving. Then I walked through the back door to the alley."

The two of us looked over at Kyle now, who was busy cooking away, but staring at us with raised eyebrows.

"Come on, Weasley," he called out. "Get out of here. Don't get sweet, innocent Sophie into trouble by being where you shouldn't."

"No, of course not," Fred said, bowing slightly at me as I rolled my eyes. "So, I guess I'll see you around then?" Fred asked with a smile.

"Probably," I answered. "We are neighbors after all."

Fred chuckled. "True," he said.

I gave him a fleeting smile before looking away as I fiddled with my shirt. "So...yeah. See you around," I said, grabbing a dishrag and a bucket of soapy water. I gave Fred a single tiny wave before I disappeared.


A/N: Just out of curiosity, is there anything anyone would like to see in this story? Or does anyone have any suggestions for improvement? I haven't gotten much feedback, which is only concerning because I'm not sure if that means people aren't interested in the story or if there's just been some kind of lull in readers on the site. So if anyone does have any suggestions/feedback/constructive criticism it would be very appreciated, just so I can know how I'm doing and improve! Thanks for reading!