It was almost closing time when Florean Fortescue walked into my shop. He was such a kind looking old wizard. He wore a large smile as he walked up to the counter. He had short fly-away white hair and was, as usual, wearing bright snappy dress robes. I knew exactly why he had come, because he rarely visited our shop. I looked down at the letter in his hand and became a little nervous. Hermione had written back. I hoped that my letter made her feel better, but I was afraid that she might think that I was prying. I was afraid she might be angry that I read her most private thoughts.
"Good day, Mr. Weasley," Mr. Fortescue greeted.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fortescue," I returned. "What can I do for you today?"
"Please, please, call me Florean," he insisted. "Now, I apologize for not knowing, but which one are you?"
I knew exactly what he meant. Most people had a difficult time telling George and I apart. Our own mother even struggled at times, although that probably had to do with how many times George and I pretended to be the each other. "I would be Fred," I smiled. "And I have an idea why you've come. She wrote back, hasn't she?"
"She has indeed, Mr. Weasley," He handed me the envelope addressed "Anon."
"She didn't see you bring it here, did she?" I worried.
"No," he answered. "She dropped it off a few hours ago. As you requested, I waited awhile before delivering it."
"Thanks again, Mr. For- Florean. I really appreciate it."
"Anytime, Fred. She's a very sweet girl." Mr. Fortescue nodded and left the store.
"What have you got there?" asked George, walking up behind me. "Who's 'Anon'?"
"No one," I said. I thought it best to wait until later to read the letter, but I really couldn't wait. The store wasn't busy so I stole into the back room and opened the letter.
Aug. 27, 2000
Dear Friend,
I really don't know what to say. I feel terribly embarrassed that you came upon my journal entry. I never intended anyone to see it. I must have seemed so pathetic, wallowing in self pity.
I really appreciate that you took the time to write that kind letter. It really feels nice to know that someone out there cares - that someone believes in me.
You're right that I do have amazing friends. And I guess they would be there for me if I told them how I was really feeling. But it's so hard to come out and tell them how I'm feeling. They don't know this side of me. I don't know what they'd do. I don't know how I could look at them after telling them just how depressed I've been. My complaints feel so foolish. After all my friends and I have been through... the war and the loss of so many friends. My loneliness and stress at work seem so petty.
Thank you again for your letter. You have no idea what it means to me.
Hermione Granger
I felt relieved when I read it. She hadn't been angry and it did make her feel better, just as I had hoped it would.
I slipped the letter into my pocket and returned to the store to help George close up.