Much to my surprise, my night with Noah was mostly all I could think about for the next few days. I spent my time at work replaying it in my head, thinking of dinner, the Ferris wheel, the almost kiss, and talking to him about how miserable I'd been at school. And the fact that he was still nice to me afterwards. He still liked me. He didn't press me for more information for the rest of the night. He just showed me around London, talking about his own memories he'd had there as a kid and making me laugh with a few jokes sprinkled in here and there.
The night actually made me forget about everything else completely. The diary, the mystery woman, the necklace…it was all wiped from my mind and instead all I could think about was how I was finally beginning to feel like a normal girl with normal experiences.
I was jolted out of my thoughts the following Friday night by Noah appearing at my side as I cleaned a table and lightly bumping my hip with his own.
"Missed a spot," he teased, setting his bin of dirty dishes on the table next to me before collapsing into the booth and putting his feet up on the seat beside him. It was almost twelve thirty and not many people were left in the pub. We were minutes away from closing and I couldn't wait to get off my feet, but at the same time, I found myself not wanting the night to end. It meant less time spent with Noah—or at least less time gazing across the room at him as we both worked, too busy to actually talk to one another.
I smiled as I glanced over at him and continued scrubbing the tabletop in front of me. "Sitting down on the job?" I asked.
"I'm tired," he said.
"You weren't so tired when you were showing me around nearly all of London," I pointed out, finishing off my table and tossing my rag down. I turned and sent Noah a look, putting my hands on my hips.
He smirked at me, his dark brown eyes twinkling as he did so. "That's a little different," he said. "That was fun. This is work. In fact, I wish I was showing you around London again right now."
"It was fun," I agreed with a smile.
"Wow, you actually had fun?" Noah teased, pushing himself out of the booth and gently poking my arm. "You had fun? I can hardly believe it." He poked me again and I laughed.
"I'm capable of having fun," I giggled. "I'm just not used to it."
"I'm aware," he said. "Glad I could help you on that front." He actually took a deep bow and I laughed again and rolled my eyes.
"Stop, Noah….I'm serious, quit it."
"Am I embarrassing you?" he asked.
"Mhm," I nodded.
Noah opened his mouth to say something else, undoubtedly some other joke or something about how he didn't care about drawing attention to us, but he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat from behind me.
"Sophie, can I talk to you for a moment?"
I turned to see Fred standing behind me, George at his side. The rest of the pub had actually cleared out while I'd been talking to Noah. I hadn't even noticed.
"Um, sure," I said, feeling suddenly almost dazed. I was so used to being alert to nearly everything and now I hadn't even heard the twins come up behind me and I hadn't even noticed the pub empty out because I'd been so focused on my interaction with Noah. It felt strange and I wasn't sure if I liked it. Surely it couldn't be a good thing. Could I afford to be caught so off guard like that?
Noah looked from Fred to me questioningly. I nodded at him slightly. "I'll close up, it's fine," I said. "You can head home for the night."
"Are you sure?" he asked slowly, his eyes moving from me to the twins again.
"Positive. Go ahead."
Noah nodded before grabbing his bin of dishes and heading back to the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder at me once before disappearing into the kitchen. I turned back to the twins to see Fred staring after Noah with his jaw set.
"Bit possessive over something that isn't his, isn't he?" he commented, turning back to me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Noah? Possessive? Just now? Hardly," I scoffed. "He just wanted to make sure I was okay with closing up on my own."
"Come on, Soph, don't be naïve," Fred snorted.
"What?" My eyebrows shot up and I was instantly back on guard, my muscles tensing and my posture straightening as I stared back at Fred. I wanted to cringe at his tone—the degrading kind used for talking down to someone else and making them feel irrelevant. It made my heart rate quicken and my stomach tighten unpleasantly, despite being put instantly on alert.
"He didn't want to leave you alone with us because he likes you and he's threatened," Fred said. "I overheard that you went out with him? He showed you around London?"
"Yes, he did," I answered. "Is that okay with you or are you feeling threatened as well? That would be pretty interesting, considering I'm not yours either."
The second the defensive words were out of my mouth, I looked down and took a step backwards, shying away from Fred and clamping my mouth shut. I'd crossed a line for sure. I must have and now he was going to get angry. Sometimes I wondered if I'd even learned a thing from my experiences back home.
"No," Fred finally said bitterly. "You're not mine.But I've only been waiting to talk to you all night because I wanted to tell you that Bill gave us this back." He pulled the necklace out of his pocket and leaned over to firmly place it on the table behind me. "It's curse free. You can have it back. Maybe you can wear it when you're on your next date with Noah. Maybe it'll help you to not forget about us."
"I didn't forget about you," I protested in a whisper.
"Sure," Fred said. "I thought you seemed like you were in a daze tonight. You never even looked our way. And now I know why. You were on cloud nine, thinking about being with Noah."
"So what?" I asked, looking up at Fred again, agitation showing on my face. "Why do you care?" I lowered my voice to a whisper. "He's a nice guy, Fred. He's patient and he doesn't pressure me for information about my life."
"And we have?" Fred asked, gesturing between himself and George.
"No, of course not," I said. "But—"
"How much have you told him?" Fred asked.
"He knows my parents left me and I told him a bit about my classmates at school..."
"About how they tricked you into getting drunk?" Fred asked.
I shook my head. "No, some other stuff."
"So you're just telling him you're whole life story," Fred snorted. "Whatever happened to you being able to talk to me? To feeling close to me because you shared some of your personal life with me? Whatever happened to you telling me things you've never told anyone else?"
"I haven't told him everything, Fred!" I exclaimed. "Besides, why does it matter? Why are you trying to control who I talk to and what I say to them? It's not your business."
"You made your life my business when you brought me that diary and asked for help!" Fred shouted.
"Stop yelling," I retaliated, taking another stop back and bumping into the table.
Fred ignored me. "You made your life my business when you told me about the necklace!"
"Hey," George said, noticing my discomfort and putting a hand on Fred's arm. Fred shook him off and continued to glare at me.
"I didn't ask you for help," I whispered.
"You literally did," Fred snarled.
I shook my head. "I came to you because I was scared, but I didn't ask you for anything. I almost walked out of your shop that day, but you're the one who wouldn't let me leave. You'rethe one who begged me to give you a chance."
"I don't beg," Fred scoffed.
"You're the one who offered to let Bill look at the necklace," I said. "And it's not that I'm ungrateful, but-"
"Sure sounds like you are."
I looked up and glared at him as George let out a sigh.
"Fred, that's not what she said."
"Sure, go ahead and take her side." Fred scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I've got to get out of here," he said quietly before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
"Fred, wait," I said, but George cut me off.
"Stay...finish closing up," he said gently, holding out a hand to stop me from heading after Fred. "I'll go after him. I can handle this."
"But—"
"Don't worry about it," he said, giving me a tight, brief smile. "Finish up here."
And then he was gone, disappearing into Diagon Alley after his brother.
I hurried through the rest of my closing duties, then scrawled a hurried note to Tom and Martha in case they somehow discovered my disappearance during the night. And then I rushed into Diagon Alley, taking it at a run to the twins' shop.
Most of my life, I'd run away from confrontation. I'd done my best to lay low, avoid any kind of mean or anger fueled gesture, and eventually avoid people in general. But in the events when I did come across those things, I'd simply just take it. It had become part of my nature, the older and more exhausted I got. And whenever I'd tried standing up for myself, it only made things worse, so I'd given up. It wasn't until recently that I'd found the courage to run away completely and it had been one of the hardest, most terrifying experiences of my life. I'd never wanted to run tosomeone who was angry or upset. I normally would run away. But I was left confused and hurt by Fred's anger and I didn't want to brush this under the rug. I didn't want to avoid this. I wanted to make it better. For the first time in my life, I wanted to confront the anger instead of ignoring it and accepting it as deserved, feeling too tired physically and emotionally to fight back.
When I finally reached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I rapped against the door anxiously, knowing that somewhere upstairs, those windchimes were going off and one of the twins would—hopefully—look out the window and see me and—again, hopefully—let me inside.
It was almost a full minute before I saw movement within the shop and then finally George appeared behind the glass of the front door. He opened it and peered out at me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked wearily.
"What do you think I'm doing here?" I asked. "I couldn't leave things the way they were. I felt—I felt as if I was being accused of things that weren't..."
"True?" George asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes and no. Not exactly." I sighed and raked a hand through my hair, stopping when I got to the back and closing a fistful of it in my hand. "I felt that Fred's anger wasn't justified. I didn't do anything wrong.I don't understand what happened and I want to fix it."
"Fred's not in the mood to fix anything," George said. "In fact, quite the opposite."
"What do you—oh no," I breathed, my shoulders deflating as I gave George a wide-eyed look. And then in quite an uncharacteristic move on my part, I slipped past him and ran for the back stairs that led to the flat.
"Sophie, no! Do not go up there!" George called from behind me.
I heard his rapid footsteps chasing after me, but I ignored both them and his cries as I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to the flat.
And only then did I stop in my tracks. George finally caught up to me and I felt him behind me, panting slightly as we both surveyed the scene.
The living room of the flat was a mess. The cushions and pillows from the couch were strewn all over the room, as well as pieces of parchment and quills and even a bottle of ink. And there were three bottles of firewhiskey lying around from what I could see. All empty.
It took me a moment to actually find Fred. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the coffee table and his long legs splayed out in front of him as he drank from another bottle of firewhiskey.
"George," he called out. "I hope you told whoever was at that damn door to bugger the hell off."
I turned and looked at George, my mouth hanging open. "George," I whispered.
"Now you know what it looks like," he whispered back. "But this is tame compared to what he used to look like."
"This is all my fault," I groaned.
"No, Sophie, it's not," George muttered, looking away and running a hand through his hair. "You didn't do anything. You're right in feeling you're innocent because you are. But Fred's anger—you have to understand. He—"
"Oh, look who decided to show up!" Fred suddenly cried.
I whirled around to see him awkwardly getting to his feet. "Come to tell me some more secrets? Things that no one else knows? Things that you're only going to run and tell Noah afterwards, too?"
"No, Fred, I came to talk to you. I came to fix things. I came to defend myself because I don't think I did anything wrong."
"Oh, please!" Fred cried, flinging his firewhiskey bottle away with a flick of his wrist. It hit the wall and smashed, the remains of the drink splashing everywhere. I gasped, flinched and took two steps back, shying away from the situation as I felt my insides buzzing with nerves and fear. But I forced myself to stay put, swallow thickly and look back at Fred.
"Fred, please," I begged, inching further away as he came closer to me. "Stop."
"I thought you trusted me," he said, his voice low.
"I do!" I protested, flattening myself against the wall. I had nowhere else to run at this point. Part of me was chastising myself for pushing my way up here. I'd put myself in a situation I told myself I never wanted to be in again. Cornered by an angry, drunk person who was accusing me of doing something wrong.
"Fred," George said warningly, taking a step forward, looking ready to push Fred away from me if he had to.
Fred brushed his brother off with a wave of his hand as he looked at me. "I thought I was helping you. I thought I was the one you were coming to about all this stuff going on. I thought-I thought I was the one you were confiding in, but it turns out you've also been running to Noah about your past! Have you told him about the diary as well? And about how you got that necklace?"
"No, Fred, he knows hardly anything."
"But he knows things you haven't told me," he went on.
"Why does it matter?" I asked, blinking at him in confusion. "You don't mind Tom and Martha knowing. Or Rachel, Kayla, and Allie. I don't understand why you're this upset over-"
"Because I liked being the only one you trusted!" he practically roared.
I winced and pressed myself as hard as I could into the wall, wishing it would just swallow me whole.
"Well, you're not and you knew that," I said. "Tom and Martha know, and-"
"They forced you to tell them. It doesn't count."
"Rachel, Kayla and Allie know a little-"
"Yeah, a little," Fred said. "None of them know about the diary or the necklace. By you telling me as much as you did, I felt as if I were actually doing something and being helpful. I felt as if I were being treated as a whole person again, instead of a fragile, broken, hastily repaired one." He shot George a look. "A glass object glued back together with cracks. Isn't that what you called me?"
George looked away guiltily. "Maybe I shouldn't have said it, but it is true," he murmured.
"You trusted me with something huge," Fred told me. "The first person to do so in ages."
"That can't be true," I scoffed. "You own a business. That's a pretty big thing to be trusted with."
"Yeah, and I almost burned it down," Fred answered.
"So you're saying people are justified in not trusting you, then," I said with a bitter laugh. "That's just great, Fred. I've told you time and time again that my life is not a game or an experiment for you." I swallowed and let out a sigh. "You are just using me, Fred," I whispered. "That's all you're doing. You deny it, but...it is what it is. How can it not be? You just said you wanted to feel whole again and this was helping you do it. And ultimately, why else would you want to help me and why would you care this much? You know nothing about me. You don't owe me a thing. You help me and it takes your mind off of your problems, which is great and all, but..." I took a deep breath as I tried to calm my nerves. My heartbeat was racing and I felt like electricity was running through my blood. My brain was practically running on autopilot. I was speaking without even thinking. "I've told you-I can't afford to be doing this, Fred. Maybe we should just call it quits and maybe I should tell Tom and Martha about the diary. A relationship like that isn't good for me. I need-I need someone who-"
"Someone who isn't fucked up?" Fred hissed. He actually took a step back from me as his shoulders sagged.
Instantly, I regretted what I'd implied. If I didn't want him to make assumptions about me, then it wasn't fair for me to do it to him. I supposed that was what he'd asked from me from the beginning though. A chance. And for me to not judge him. And I'd done it anyway. I'd let my own thoughts take over. That little seed of a doubt that had been watered into growth by my own fear, as well as Rachel's suspicions last weekend. Granted, it had been hard not to freak out seeing him like this. Trying to reason with him when he didn't want to be reasoned with. When he was drunk and angry. But I knew all about inner demons and what they could do to a person. And I'd also seen the other side of Fred. The kind side. The funny side. The wonderful side.
"That's not what I was going to say," I told him, stepping away from the wall and back towards him, reaching out for his arm. "You're not-"
"Don't lie to me and don't touch me," Fred spat, whirling away from me.
"I'm sorry-I know I shouldn't assume things about what your intentions are," I said. "But I'm trying to protect myself here, too. And I just meant-isn't it like the blind leading the blind? How can we help each other when we can't even help ourselves? Maybe we should have trusted our guts and not gotten too involved with each other. I mean, look at you. You're falling apart just because you thought I was confiding in someone else."
"There's more to it than just that," Fred said.
"Okay, then tell me."
Fred shook his head. "It's no use. And you know what? It's not like you're much better," he snapped. "You keep letting your walls down only to put them back up with such force every time you get scared about letting someone in. Which is constantly.And then you sit there and blame other people. You accuse them of wanting to hurt you or use you when that's not entirely the case."
"I never said I wasn't fucked up myself," I told him. "In fact, that's all I've been saying."
"I offered to help you with the diary," Fred plowed on, without letting me get another sentence in. "And I offered to help you find answers about your mother. That's what you want, isn't it? I wouldn't do that for just anyone."
"But I practically am just anyone. I'm some random girl who showed up out of nowhere!" I threw my arms out to the sides and let them flap back against my legs. "My point is that I can't figure you out. I can't figure out what it is you want with me or why you'd want to help a stranger unless it was for your own benefits."
"Because some people do things like that! They see someone in need and they help them."
"But you didn't want to at first. You didn't want to talk or open up to me. But then you did! So needless to say, I'm a bit confused here."
"I couldn't help it," Fred said. "I didn't want to talk. Or I thought that I didn't. But it changed. I found myself talking anyway, for reasons I'm not entirely sure of. But like I said, I liked being trusted again. Besides, you're also a girl that I saw myself in. Tired, exhausted, determined, and trying to move on from difficult events of her past. I thought maybe George was right."
"What was that?" George asked with a smirk. "Didn't quite catch that. I couldn't ear you."
I looked at George in confusion as Fred let out a snort and rolled his eyes.
"Shut up, George," he muttered.
George shrugged. "Just trying to diffuse the tension."
Fred turned back to me. "I thought maybe you of all people would get it," he went on. "You weren't the talkative type so you wouldn't pressure me to talk. You knew what it was like to not want to forfeit information if you weren't ready. I thought you were the person who would understand everything. But I also liked that you didn't know what I was going through. I liked that you would never have a reason to go easy on me. And you certainly haven't. My own siblings even stopped teasing me like they used to for a while. They always knew I could take it, but after Percy died, they were afraid I'd fall into, well, this." He gestured to himself. "Even George was doing it for a bit at first, but I managed to at least get him to knock it off."
George snorted, but didn't say anything.
"I was never using you, Sophie," Fred went on. "Us beginning to trust each other was something that just began to happen naturally. And I don't know about you, but I liked it. I never did anything with the intention of hurting you or using you. I was trying to protect myself the same way you were trying to protect yourself. And, if anything, I'm grateful that after you found out about Percy, you didn't change how you acted towards me. It was seamless. And even just now...you didn't come over here to see if I was okay. You came over to defend yourself."
"And you liked that?" I asked in confusion.
Fred smiled grimly. "Believe it or not, it was nice having someone not worrying about me for once."
"Fred it's not that I-"
"No, stop. I know," he said, holding up his hand. He sighed. "I'm just so sick of people doing things to purposely not upset me. George is usually the only one who's brutally honest with me, even though it gets on my nerves in the heat of the moment. I know he'll tell me the truth and tell me I need to calm down. But he also knows when to back off and when to step in. Then again, he's also my twin. He knows me better than I know myself." He shrugged. "But it was nice having someone else around that had no previous knowledge of me whatsoever. So, yes, I like having you around. I like how I've felt helping you. I've liked feeling the most normal I've felt in a while. But I also don't want to hurt you. And while I am glad that you had no prior knowledge of who I am or who I used to be, I sometimes wish you did. Because you have no idea that I'd never use you or lie to you about any of this, no matter what you seem to think. I don't know what people have told you about me and what my intentions may or may not be, but they're wrong."
"Okay, fine. Can you answer me one question honestly, then?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?" Fred answered, laughing bitterly and turning back towards me with his arms crossed.
"Is any of this about Percy?" I whispered. "Besides how people treated you after he died? You said you felt as if you were being helpful. So you couldn't save him and now you feel guilty so you're trying to help me to make up for it? Is that what this is? A project? I just...need to know."
Fred's expression clouded over again. "How dare you," he snarled, lowering his arms and turning towards me. His expression almost made my heart stop. "Why can't you let it drop? Why do you keep asking me that? The same questions over and over. I just told you I wouldn't use you and you still don't trust me. You're just as bad as everyone else in that sense. You don't trust me to do the right thing."
"How can I?" I asked. "I don't know you and your word isn't enough! You're right-I don't have any prior knowledge of the kind of person you are. The very thing you just said helped you is the thing you're now getting angry at me for? Are you insane?"
"I asked you for a chance and you're not giving it to me," Fred snapped.
"I'm trying."
"You're not! You're accusatory and judgmental!"
I bit my lip and looked away. I had dug myself into a hole and now I didn't know how to get myself out of it. I was suddenly remembering why I'd always ran away from confrontations. It was so much easier that way. I'd come all the way here to talk to Fred and it was falling apart in front of my eyes.
"You know what? You're right," I said. "I'm sorry. I just needed to know for myself exactly what you're getting out of talking to me and being my friend. I need to know what's going on in your head. I need to know if this relationship is real or just something you're using to help yourself. I need your honesty. Lies aren't going to help me. But I suppose it is up to me to meet you halfway. The only thing is that behavior like this," I gestured around the room, "isn't going to help me either. Just like it's not going to help you. And I really am just so sick of meaning nothing to people. I have to keep my walls up, Fred. I just have to."
And then I turned for the door and started to leave. I hadn't made it five steps, however, before Fred spoke again. "Hang on a second-you can't just leave like that."
"You're not giving me much of a choice," I answered.
Fred lunged for me and grabbed onto my arm, spinning me around to face him. He was towering over me and his expression was clouded with anger. I let out an involuntary shriek as I flinched and wrenched myself away from him. "No!" I screamed. "Don't touch me!" And then I backed myself into the wall, looking at Fred in pure terror, my breaths coming in rapid, sharp gasps.
"Merlin, Fred," George said in a low voice as Fred's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He continued to stare at me in complete shock.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered, staring at Fred just as wide eyed as he was staring at me. I was so embarrassed and upset that I buried my head in my hands as tears came to my eyes. I slid down the wall to the floor and sat there, trying to calm myself down by taking one breath after another, holding each one before slowly exhaling. Just like Fred himself had instructed me to do. I heard Fred and George talking in low voices before I heard footsteps leaving the room. I stretched one of my legs out in front of me and kept my face pressed into my other knee for a moment longer, wrapping my arms around my leg and pulling it as close to my body as possible as I took in quiet hiccuping breaths.
When I finally raised my head, my cheeks stained with my tears, I was slightly surprised to see Fred sitting a few feet away, cross legged and holding one of the couch pillows to his chest. He was just staring at me seriously and apologetically, almost like a sad little boy. He looked as if my outburst had sobered him up completely. Then again, maybe it had.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, my voice raspy as I rested my elbow on my knee and propped my head against my hand.
"You're sorry?" Fred asked. "I just acted like a complete animal and you're sorry?"
I swallowed and swiped at my nose before resting my head on my hand again.
"George is making tea," Fred said.
"Great," I said dully.
"You were right, you know."
I glanced up at Fred in surprise. "About what?"
Fred lowered the pillow to his lap and began picking at it. He shrugged slightly. "You were right about this having to do with Percy. At least somewhat."
I didn't answer for a second. "Oh," I finally said.
Fred let out a quiet snort of laughter. "Oh," he repeated.
"I didn't want to be right about that, Fred," I said.
"Well, you were," he said. "You wanted honesty, so..." He shrugged. "Maybe a part of me thought that by helping you get answers and get pieces of your life back, it would alleviate all the guilt I felt about being the reason my brother lost his life. I thought it would help me be mentally even with myself so I could stop feeling like utter crap about it. And then all this would go away. And people would stop watching what they say and do around me. I know my mother told everyone not to purposely rile me.Honestly, how is that supposed to make me feel? It's been a year, I want to move on, but it's hard and I feel like people won't let me, even if they aren't doing it intentionally. Even if they think they're helping me."
"It's not your fault, Fred," I said. "I'm sure part of you knows that, but I also know how powerful minds can be. They can manage to be practical, but at the same time have you convinced of something that's not true in the least."
Fred shrugged. "In any case, I'm sorry. For making you feel used. That part is not true. I wasn't-it wasn't all a big plan or a scheme or-or even intentional. Like I said, it just happened. And talking to you was helping me. And I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it was helping me as much as at was. So I guess I thought it would make sense that I help you in return. And I'm also sorry for what I did just now. Grabbing you like that. Scaring you. I didn't realize just how frightened you were. How hard it is for you to trust people. I realize that any opening up you do isn't easy. Coming here after me wasn't easy."
I nodded, but didn't say anything.
"I know I said I didn't want help at first," Fred went on, "and I didn't. But then I couldn't help it. Being with you did take my mind off of the crappy aspects of my life that I kept dwelling on and it did make me feel like I was making a difference in someone's life. And like I said, it felt good. It felt really good. And. I know you don't open up to just anyone. Out of everyone you could have confided in, you confided in me. On your own terms, too. Not because of Veritaserum. I thought it meant that I must be doing something right. And then I also liked genuinely being around you the more time we spent together. And just now...you asked me an honest question for the second time since we've met because you wanted an honest answer for yourself, but it made me have to be honest with myself as well. I think I have to do that-be honest with myself-before I can improve. I can't demand honesty from people, but then get angry when they give it."
"I just...needed to know exactly where we stood," I said. "Before any of this went any further. I've told you all this difficult stuff about myself. I've been vulnerable. And it would always just come right out. You're right-it's just...happened. You'd tell me something about you and I seemed to always have some way I could connect what you said to my own life."
"When I talked to you about being drunk all the time on purpose," Fred said, "you told me about how girls at school got you drunk and left you alone on the stairs and how scary it was. When I told you about Percy's death, you told me about how hurt you were not knowing where your relationship stood with your family while I did. You didn't tell me it should be any less painful because of that. You didn't tell me to be grateful like I thought you would. You just left the information with me to make of it what I would. You somehow let me know it's okay to acknowledge all the dark parts of me while also making me see what it's like to be someone who has been so negatively affected by those same dark parts."
"I didn't realize I was doing that," I whispered. "I was just trying to relate to you in any way I could, I suppose. Connect your life with mine in any way possible."
Fred nodded solemnly. "We both said that we didn't have time for other people's issues because you couldn't handle your own, and yet...here you are. You know...in some ways you have given me a chance You did still open up to me, even though it was hard for you and you at least haven't judged me for any of the stuff I've told you. And you aren't judging me right now. In fact, I'm impressed and grateful that you didn't run out the door screaming tonight. I'm everything you're afraid of and you still didn't run. It's amazing to me because I can't help but feel astounded and confused that you aren't running but...Angelina did."
I looked up at him and studied him, processing what he just said. "I don't think it's quite the same," I said. "You and I don't feel the same way for each other that you and Angelina did. But...I haven't forgotten how you and George defended me to those guys at the pub back in May. That set you apart. When you hit me with the door at the Three Broomsticks, you took care of me. And then when I had that panic attack, you came out and calmed me down. You knew just what to do. And then not too long ago, you told me that if anyone was after me, they'd have to go through you first. You told me you were protective of your friends. I think I somehow knew that if I was going to get myself into trouble, you and George were the right two people to go to. You'd know just how to help me. You wouldn't laugh or tell me I was crazy or tell me to get rid of that diary or the necklace. You'd react just how I needed you to react."
Fred smiled slightly, his eyes roaming over my face. "Despite the pranks and the alcohol."
"You have been nice to me," I said. "You've teased me a bit, but you've never seriously played a joke on me. I know that. Deep down, I know that. I'm just...so afraid. So afraid of being let down again. And I do trust you. But it's such a scary situation for me that I can't help but panic and try to rein it in when I get too scared." I shrugged. "Also...I know you're working on the alcohol thing. It's not exactly your fault."
"Don't make excuses for me," Fred said. "It is my fault and it has been my choice for the past year. But I want to fix it."
"Exactly," I said with a smile. I let out a slow puff of air and looked at the ceiling. "It's just so hard for me to feel assured that things aren't going to end, that people aren't going to leave and that people genuinely like me. There's part of me that still thinks that it's all a joke or that it's not genuine. It's easier to try to just prevent myself from actually feeling anything at all."
"What-or who-gave you all these crazy ideas about why I like spending time with you anyway?" Fred asked. "Or were they your own thoughts that were...I don't know, recently fueled by something someone else said?"
I hesitated, a little bit amazed that he'd pretty much nailed what had happened. I also didn't want to get Rachel in any trouble by saying something, but I did feel like I owed Fred an honest answer. However, he seemed to take my hesitation as confirmation of an answer he already knew.
"Rachel, huh?" he asked.
I nodded slowly.
"Damnit," Fred muttered, sighing deeply and running his hands through his hair.
"Sorry," I responded.
"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. I can understand why you'd take what she said and let it make you worry. You're someone who-"
"Who's fucked up?" I whispered, using Fred's own words to describe myself this time, as I stared over Fred's head at the wall across the room.
Fred inhaled slowly through his nose before exhaling. "I was going to say you're someone who clearly hasn't had many people prove themselves to you over the years."
I swallowed and stretched my other leg out in front of me, flexing my feet and staring aimlessly at them. "My mother and father both left me," I said. "You know that story. I went into foster care where no one ever wanted to keep me, even if they were fairly kind to me. You know all those details too. One of the things I told Noah was that I asked for ice skates in my first foster home, but they couldn't afford them, so they gave me a postcard of an ice rink instead. I loved that thing at first. It reminded me of going ice skating with my mom and it reminded me of all the good times I spent with her. But then over the years I just grew more and more miserable and more and more bitter. I used to want to go into photography so that I could take pictures that would bring people some kind of happiness, peace, joy, whatever. I wanted to be able to freeze moments in time with one click of a button. But sometimes when moments are frozen, even if they're good ones, it just makes you realize that you can't ever get them back."
"Well, the memories themselves are still good," Fred said. "And I'd like to think that counts for something, but I know what you mean. It's still hard for me to think about memories of Percy. It was hard on everyone for a while, but it got easier for them faster than it did for me. Mum and Dad could look at old photos before I could. They started slowly talking about him more without crying, or in my case, losing their shit. Things are still a bit odd, but they're better. All of Percy's things are still in boxes in a corner of the shed in the yard. We've moved them from his room, but that's all any of us have managed. And I know Ginny's right. We can't forget he existed. That would be an insult to him. We have to hold on to those memories or else he'll truly be gone in every sense of the word. Didn't you essentially tell me the same thing at one point? That night out in the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron?"
I actually found myself smiling slightly. "I did and you have a point."
"Of course I do," he said with a grin. "I'm not a complete imbecile."
I let out another sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "So, anyway...then in school I was teased constantly. I told you about that group of girls that got me drunk. They were the ringleaders and everyone followed what they did. Most people avoided me for at least one of two reasons: either because those girls did and they were afraid or wanted to be like them. And the other reason was because they found me odd all on their own. I kept to myself, was painfully shy, very focused on schoolwork. And I didn't know how to make friends either. I was horrible at it. If someone did try to talk to me, I eventually chased them away by being pretty unresponsive."
"You don't seem painfully shy or unresponsive now," Fred said.
I shrugged. "I don't think I was like that as a child either." I let out a sigh. "It sometimes feels like I lost my entire personality as I grew up. Or at least while I was in school. It's like it was muted or something."
Fred thought about that for a minute. "Is it safe to guess that your most recent foster home had something to do with that?"
I nodded. "It was probably the icing on the cake," I said. "I was already worn down by being moved from home to home so often and the last foster home I was in just...drained me even more." I swallowed again. "Anyway, I told you my foster father didn't spend much money on me. Or on my foster mother, for that matter. I wasn't exactly starved, but I wasn't fed well either. So when I first started school, I saw all this amazing, well-made food. It had been such a long time since I'd seen food like that due to either money issues or just lack of caring about exactly what we were eating at home. I was never given food like I saw at school, that was for sure. I wasn't used to just being able to have as much as I wanted. So I went a little crazy the first night I was there. And people teased me." I reached up and pushed the tip of my nose upwards, making a snort sound as I did so.
Fred closed his eyes and turned away. "Soph..."
I lowered my hands to my lap and shrugged. "I can still hear those girls whispering to each other and laughing. What a pig, they'd say. They isolated me before school had really even started. And it just got harder from there. All I really had to do around school was my homework. I aced every assignment and got made fun of for that. It was endless. I got all my clothes magically turned pink once. As well as my hair. By that same group of girls. As I said, they did most of the teasing, but nobody ever really jumped in to help, either. Except one girl. She became my only friend at school. In fact, remember I told you about that one professor I was close with? It was her daughter." I swallowed. "And then...they died. Both of them." I swallowed. "It was a hit and run car accident. They lived in Salem, too, actually and one day they were walking down the street, and a car just...hit them. And the person driving was gone by the time anyone from law enforcement could get there. They were never caught. It's been six and a half years."
"Was there any kind of investigation?" Fred asked as George suddenly came back into the room, levitating three mugs of tea in front of him. Fred and I reached out and each took one, smiling at George in thanks as he sat down in the space to my left, the three of us forming a triangle.
"Sure," I said. "But no one was ever caught. The car that hit them even ended up being a stolen car so there really were no leads."
"What the hell did I miss?" George asked in alarm. "Stolen cars? People getting hit by stolen cars?" He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of life were you living back in Salem?"
I sighed and let out a breath of bitter laughter as I stared down into my tea.
"Not a very good one," Fred said quietly. "Sophie was just telling me how close she was to one of her professors at school. And also the professor's daughter, who was also her classmate. They stuck up for her when other people weren't very nice. And then someone hit them with a car."
George was silent. "No wonder you ran away from home," he finally said and I snorted. "So let me get this straight," he went on. "You lived with your mother and things were fine and happy until she one day dragged you out of the house in the middle of the night, saying you had to leave, but not telling you why. And then she left you in the museum she used to work at, told you she'd be back, and then never returned."
I nodded slowly. "Correct."
"And then," George continued, "you were put into foster care, bouncing around from one to another for various reasons. And then you were in your most recent one from age eleven. And I'm guessing some serious shit went down in that foster home-things you haven't fully told us about yet, which is fine. All in your own time. And at school you had issues making friends, people weren't nice to you, and the two people that actually kind of took you under their wing were killed. And no one was ever caught."
"Yeah," I said. "At least that's the short version of it all. I've never been able to make any sense of it either. People just seemed to think it was an accident and the culprit ran away to avoid getting in trouble. They thought alcohol could've been involved. But it was just one more thing that I wanted answers to and never got."
Fred let out a low whistle. "That's rough. If you ask me, it sounds like your whole life is full of unanswered questions."
"It is," I said. "But that's why I came here. I came here to escape my past. Every last bit of it."
"How's that working for you?" Fred asked in amusement. "Escaping your past?"
"Yeah, would you say that's going...well, perhaps?" George asked.
"Swimmingly?" Fred continued.
"Without a hitch?"
"Okay, enough," I said, actually letting out a breath of laughter. "I just want to move on."
"Can you even do that without answers?" Fred looked at me quizzically. "I mean, I just told you that I didn't think I could fully move on from my own issues if I wasn't honest with myself."
"I'm honest with myself," I said. "This is different. Not having answers isn't the same as being dishonest."
"Are you sure?" Fred asked, tilting his head.
I nodded. "And by the way, I think about getting answers all the time and of course I'm curious. But-"
"But you're afraid," Fred said. "Look, thinking about answers isn't the same as having them. For example, I'm thinking about your answer to my question, but I don't have it because you haven't given it to me."
"Oh, honestly," I sighed, letting out a quiet laugh. "Fine, I'm trying to move on without them. I've lasted this long with no answers about anything. Happy now?"
"I am, but are you?" Fred asked. "You're really content with just trying to move on without answers? Instead of facing your fears?"
I stared at him over the top of my mug of tea. "Fred, my past is a mess. My current life is a mess. I'm not sure it's best to go digging around. It's just easier to leave things as they are."
"Easier, sure," Fred said, setting his mug down, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands. "But what's going to make you happiest?" He looked at me with a smile. "Here's a hint-it's not running from your past or being complacent."
I thought about that for a moment. "It's not hiding from it either," I replied, giving him a look. "Or shoving all your feelings deep down inside of you and pretending you don't feel them at all because it's easier than talking."
Fred laughed. "Point taken. But I never said I was perfect, Soph. I'm human, too."
I smiled slightly before letting out a sigh. "Like you said, I am afraid. Afraid of what I'll find out. I'm afraid of getting hurt again. What if I do find my mother and she really doesn't want anything to do with me? What if I find out that the person who was driving the car that killed my friend and teacher has been living some fantastic life somewhere without any repercussions of what they did?"
"If what you said about your mother is true, I don't see how that's possible," George said. "You made it seem like you were so close."
"She taught you how to ice skate, yeah?" Fred said. "She used to take you all the time. You two had all these plans to travel. To go to New York, Paris...to come here."
"You know, that's part of the reason I chose to come here after I ran away," I said. "Because of her. That and the fact that we have English ancestry."
"Really," Fred said in interest.
I nodded. "None of our immediate ancestors lived here. They'd been in America for centuries. But they were here at one point way back when." I sighed. "I guess I still felt as if coming here would give me some connection to my mother and just to family in general. Even if ancestors I'd never met had lived here, well, they were here."
"Did your mother ever tell you anything about them?" George asked.
I shrugged. "She really didn't know much. It was centuries ago, like I said."
"Yeah, but what about some of your more recent ancestors? Grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts...great uncles and aunts?"
"I've never met anyone from my dad's side of the family, understandably. And never heard anything about them either. And on my mom's side...her father died when I was a baby, and her mother when I was four. My mother was an only child, so no aunts, uncles or cousins. There weren't any grandparents or other relatives left by the time my mother left me. If there were, do you think I would have ended up in foster care?"
Fred and George were quiet as they thought about that.
"What was your mother's name?" Fred asked.
"Rebecca," I said. "Rebecca McConnell. After my dad left, she changed both her and my last name back to her maiden one." I smiled slightly. "She always said we didn't deserve to have his shitty last name."
"What was his last name?" Fred asked.
I shrugged. "Don't know."
"Probably something dumb," Fred said. "Or maybe something that describes him. Perhaps asshole or loser."
I couldn't help it-I laughed. My laugh seemed to brighten Fred up a bit as well and he let out a laugh of his own as the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.
"Okay, so..." Fred finally said, furrowing his brow in thought, "couldn't we go look for some kind of newspaper articles or something? Maybe there was some kind of report of her going missing or...well, a death."
"But wouldn't we have to go all the way to Salem in order to do that?" George asked.
"And?" Fred asked. "Where's your sense of adventure, Georgie?"
"Salem's in a whole different country, Fred. That's some major traveling. And we'd have to organize a Portkey..."
"I Apparated," I said.
George gaped at me. "You did? And it worked? Without you getting hurt?"
"She's practically a walking miracle," Fred said, taking a sip of his tea before lowering his mug to the ground again.
I smiled slightly. "Not exactly. I did get pretty splinched. No entire body parts or limbs went missing, though. Just skin."
"I'm still impressed you did that," Fred said, looking over at me with another small smile. I met his eyes and smiled back and we we just looked at each other for another moment until George spoke again.
"How'd you pull that off?" He asked.
"Practice," I said. "Longer and longer distances. I knew it was a big risk to Apparate across a whole ocean, but I didn't have a choice. There are only certain spots where Portkeys are authorized to go. For example, I couldn't just appear in Muggle London, obviously. So naturally, every Portkey needs to be authorized by the government. I don't know if it's the same here, but that's how it is in America. And I couldn't just waltz into the government offices and request a Portkey. Not in the physical state I was in. They'd ask a bunch of questions and I'd get attention drawn to myself."
George nodded. "Right. Makes sense. And it is the same here, by the way. In any case, I'm not about to risk losing any more body parts." He reached up and gestured to his musing left ear.
"Fred mentioned you were missing an ear," I said. "But to be honest, I never really noticed it was gone."
"That's kind of you," George said, "but I think you're full of shit."
I laughed again. "I'm serious!" I took another sip of my tea. "How did it happen? Fred only said it was a battle wound."
"If you must know," George said, "I lost it in a pretty nasty duel against an ogre." He sighed. "He put up a good fight, but I got him in the end. Not before he took my ear, though."
"Liar," I said with a snort.
George laughed. "Truthfully, I was hit with a curse when we went to get Harry from his aunt and uncle's house almost two years ago now. We had this big thought out plan put together involving Polyjuice Potion and everything so that we could get Harry to safety when he became of age, but we were ambushed, and I was hit from behind with a curse. In fact, the person who cast the curse was our old Potions teacher. So that was an interesting turn of events."
"He was getting you back for charming his shoes to make loud squelching sounds every time he walked," Fred said with a smirk.
"That was you," George snorted.
"Oh yeah," Fred said, smiling as he gazed at the ceiling in reminiscence.
I gaped at them. "I can't believe how much you seem to have taken losing an ear in stride," I said.
"Especially since it made him even more so the uglier twin," Fred said matter of factly, grinning at his brother. "Pushing me even further into first place."
George rolled his eyes. "No, I disagree. Battle wounds are sexy, it's a proven fact. Backed up by lots of research."
"Mhm, sure," Fred snorted. "Tell me, how sexy was it when I had a fractured leg, broken pelvis and dislocated hip?"
George's face paled slightly, but he managed to put a smile on his face. "I thought you looked dashing."
"Yeah, what about even after it was healed but I still struggled to move faster than a shuffling walk for weeks?" Fred asked. "Or even now when part of my left side occasionally aches, especially when it rains."
"It's a good power to have," George said. "You always know when a storm is coming."
Fred shot his brother a look, while I cleared my throat. I could sense things getting tense and I didn't want Fred to suddenly go back to the place he was in when I arrived. Obviously, and understandably so, the night of the battle was a tough subject and there was only so much he could take when talking about it. From the looks of things, his tolerance for the subject had gone up quite a bit, but tonight we were just about reaching his limit.
"So...why were you moving Harry that night anyway? Why the need for this huge thought out plan?" I asked, changing the subject.
"That's a long story," Fred sighed. "One for another time, probably. I think we should get back to the topic at hand."
"Which is what?" George asked. "Going back to Salem? Like I said, we can't just leave the country on a whim."
"We've left the country before, or have you forgotten all about Egypt?" Fred argued.
"That was a vacation, Fred."
"You've been to Egypt?" I asked curiously.
"Mm," Fred nodded. "We went to visit Bill the summer before our fifth year."
"What was that like?" I asked in interest. "I'll bet it was amazing. All those tombs and the ancient curses..."
"Yeah, whatever about all that," Fred said dismissively, flapping his hand around as he scoffed. "George and I weren't interested in any of that shit. We were interested in all the mummies and more importantly, the treasure."
"Not that we could touch any of it, obviously," George said. "Curses and whatnot."
"Do you have any pictures?" I asked.
"Yeah," George nodded. "I think they're all back at the Burrow, though. There was even a photo printed in the Prophet. Dad won the money for that trip at work, so there was an article printed."
"That sounds like an amazing trip," I sighed.
"George and I actually tried to shut Percy in a pyramid," Fred said quietly, a reminiscent smile coming over his face. "But Mum caught us."
There was silence in the room for a moment before Fred snapped out of his apparent trance, blinked, and looked between George and me.
"What?" he asked.
"I think that was the first time you've done that," George said.
"Done what?"
"Openly talked about a memory of Percy...and you even brought it up."
Fred blinked again before shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I guess it is." He turned back to me. "You like to travel?"
"What gives you that idea?"
"All your stories about travel plans with your mother," he said. "And the fact that you were just so curious about Egypt."
I smiled almost wistfully. "Yeah, if I could, I would probably travel all the time. See the world..." I trailed off and cleared my throat as I looked down at my tea. "Believe me, I never imagined it happening the way it has been. I made it to almost every state in America before I came here, but I always spent my time in the streets or in disgustingly cheap motels. But when what little money I'd managed to take with me was gone, it was strictly the streets. When I used to dream of seeing the world, it was never like that."
"Of course it wasn't," Fred whispered.
I inhaled deeply through my nose. "Remember how I said I used to want to go into photography? I loved taking pictures of places the most. I always thought I could travel, see the world, take some photos and just enjoy the beauty of the world. But it's hard to appreciate beauty when you're starving, falling asleep to the scent of garbage and waking up to pigeons poking at your face. And then there was the fact that I didn't even own a camera. I tried to buy one once at a thrift store in Salem, but my foster dad made me sell it back and give him the money."
Fred let out a scoff of disgust. "He sounds like a real asshole. Maybe even more so than your real dad."
I let out a breath of laughter. "Understatement of the century." Before anyone else could say anything, I went on. "Anyway, I don't even know if looking for my mother in Salem newspapers would do any good. I don't even know if she stayed local. I imagine that when she left, she left town completely."
"That doesn't mean the town she had spent a majority of her life in wouldn't run a story if something came up on her," George said.
"True, I suppose," I said slowly. "But also...the truth is that I don't know if I can face going back there just yet. Not now anyway. I'm not ready."
"Fair enough," Fred said. "So...for now we just keep reading that diary and go from there?"
I nodded. "I suppose so."
"But for the record," Fred said. "I think you should get those answers. Even though you're afraid. Because if you keep waiting until you're ready, you'll never be ready, you know? It'll only get harder."
I looked up at him, impressed. "I didn't know you were so insightful," I said.
"Yeah, well, I am," he said with a grin. "Besides, I know for a fact that as frustrating as it is to have people push you to face things...it helps in the end. They don't call it the hard truth for nothing. It's hard. But they also say that the truth will set you free, yeah?"
"I suppose they do," I said quietly.
"And," Fred went on, "if I'm going to be honest with myself about how I've been affected by Percy's death, then I think you need to also get some honesty in your life. Get all the cards out on the table. Find yourself some truth so you can move on. We can do it together."
I met his eyes and just stared back at him for a moment, not saying anything. Finally, Fred reached out a hand to me. My eyes flicked downwards to look at it before looking back up at him, my eyebrows raised.
"It's customary to shake it," he said with a teasing grin. "This time it's not a greeting or an offer to help you up, but rather a way to seal a deal."
I rolled my eyes. "You know, there's really no need to be as condescending as you are," I said. "It's actually also customary to be polite to other people."
"Are you telling me what's customary in my own country?" Fred asked.
"Is respect not a global custom?" I asked.
"Witty," Fred replied dryly. He smiled quickly. "But, yeah, it should be." He pointedly flicked his gaze down to his hand and back to my face. "So are you going to shake it or not?"
I continued to stare at him for a second before smiling slightly and reaching out to shake his hand.
"Excellent," Fred said, his voice now the most upbeat it had been all night. He grinned and started to gather up all of our mugs to bring to the kitchen as I rolled my eyes again. I also took his cleaning up as my cue to leave.
"I should get going," I said, pushing myself to my feet. "It's already almost three in the morning. In another few hours, Tom and Martha will be getting up for the day, believe it or not."
The twins both groaned. "I don't know how they do it," Fred said. "In fact, I don't know how you did it. Working all those hours before you finally agreed to shorter shifts and a day off a week."
I half smiled. "Work was my distraction," I said.
"Are you okay going back by yourself?" Fred asked.
"Yeah, of course," I answered. "It's not far."
"You're sure?" he asked. "I can walk you..."
I shook my head. "I'll be okay. Promise."
"Okay, well at least let me walk you to the front door," he offered.
I agreed before turning to give a goodbye wave to George. And then I let Fred lead the way out of the flat, down the stairs, and across the shop to the front door, where we came to a stop.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you by talking to Noah," I said. "I didn't mean to make you feel-"
"Don't apologize," Fred said, holding up a hand. "I was being selfish. You should open up to whoever you feel comfortable with. And if it's more people than just me, then that's-that's great."
"Noah's really sweet," I pointed out.
Fred nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know. He's a good guy. Always has been."
I reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and surprising Fred, but also surprising myself with the action. "Thank you, by the way," I said. "For returning that necklace. And even asking Bill in the first place to check if it was cursed. I appreciate it."
"Are you going to wear it?" Fred asked.
"I suppose so," I said after a moment, dropping his hand.
Fred smiled. "Might as well. I'd never take it off if I got a free necklace."
"You're into wearing jewelry?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "If someone dropped a free necklace into your lap right now, you'd jump at the chance to wear it?"
"Nah, I'd give it to George. Things like that would look way better around his dainty neck."
I let out a giggle at Fred's joke. "I'm sure it would."
"In any case," Fred went on. "I'm not as much into jewelry as I am into free stuff."
"Yeah, well, if the world accommodated wishes like that, you and George would be in trouble." I gestured around the shop. "Your whole career depends on making money."
"So does everyone's," Fred snorted.
"True," I said, a smile turning up the corner of my mouth. "Anyway, I really should get going. I'll see you around?"
Fred nodded. "Yeah, of course." He nudged me and smiled. "Neighbor." He opened the door to the shop and I stepped out before turning and giving him a tiny wave and an equally tiny smile.
"Bye, neighbor," I said, before turning and heading back towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"Hey, Soph?" Fred called from the doorway.
"Hm?" I asked, turning back around.
"Thanks," Fred said. "For coming over tonight. I know it put you out of your comfort zone. I know you didn't want to see me the way I was. I didn't want you to see me the way I was. I know it must have scared you. And I know you say you came to defend yourself, but you still came. And you were honest. You asked me stuff without worrying about it making me angry."
I snorted. Yeah, at first, I wanted to say.
"As you already know," Fred went on, "I prefer that to when people tiptoe around me when I'm in a mood. When they all whisper just let him be." He shrugged. "And I'm sorry for freaking out on you too. At the pub...and earlier in the flat."
"I know," I said, nodding. "You may be a lot of things, but you're not mean, Fred."
"How can you be so sure?" He asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.
"Like I said, I haven't forgotten what you did the day those-what did you call them? Baboons?-tripped me and threw a drink in my face." I smiled slightly. "I know mean, Fred, and you're not it."
