A/N: How's that for a quick update? I guess I was on a bit of a roll. I hope everyone takes the time to review. I'm writing for all of you who enjoy this story, and every review I get helps drive me forward!

The bold writing is Fred's, and the bold/italic writing is Juliet's. You'll know what I mean when you get there. I just thought I'd clarify just in case anyone gets confused (I don't like placing author's notes in the middle of the flow of a story).

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my character and my plotline. Everything you recognize, including characters, plot developments, settings, and certain scenes and lines from the Harry Potter series, belong to JK Rowling.

- CHAPTER SIX -

Courageous Coward

Juliet Christie

Friday evening was the scheduled Keeper tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Angelina had instructed we all be there. Of course, Harry was an exception, as he was serving the last of his detentions with Umbridge. I knew he was receiving the same punishment Fred had. The thought only made me hate Umbridge even more than I already did.

However, although my mind should have been on the Keeper tryouts, it had drifted far and wide. While Angelina prepared all of the Keeper hopefuls by giving them instructions to follow, my mind was back in the common room flitting back and forth between the multiple tasks I still needed to complete.

My homework stack was growing frighteningly quickly, but I continued to ignore it. It seemed instead of growing keen with studying like I should have been (especially during my final year at school), the opposite was occurring. I was becoming less and less encouraged about completing my projects, and more and more absorbed in anything—and everything—else. My time was being quickly eaten up by assisting Fred and George with their joke shop, Quidditch, as well as carefully constructing a rather ugly hatred for Dolores Umbridge. But, above and beyond all of that, George had managed to get me thinking a whole lot more about what I was going to do about Fred.

It had never been my intention to fire up my relationship with Fred after Cedric died. I had assumed it would happen organically, so to speak. But I would have never guessed that the time would arrive only months after the disaster of the Triwizard Tournament. Although it was a long time in the making, it still seemed shockingly soon to me.

Emotionally, I didn't think I was ready to handle being in a relationship. It had nothing to do with Fred, but more with myself. I was uncertain whether or not I could trust myself to be good to Fred. I was such a jumbled mess, that I felt like it would only make things harder.

Even so, despite the doubts flitting through my mind about the whole situation, I couldn't help but see some logic in George's words.

Angelina had come into the change room and instructed us all to take our positions on the field. She had developed a structured try-out for each of the potential players, and wanted us all to take part. Observation and participation, she had stressed.

I made my way out to the pitch with the others, but my mind was still elsewhere.

George had been right when he said my relationship with Fred was inevitable…or at least, I felt it was. Both Fred and I were well aware that there were mutual feelings between us. We were also both aware that it was going to be me who had to make the first move. I had always intended for that to happen…but I had never imagined that the right time would be now.

The worst part was I couldn't figure out if George was being sincere. Did he honestly believe that it would be for the best if I was with Fred, or was he really just worried about winning his stupid bet?

I guess none of it really mattered. All that mattered was what I felt comfortable with. But that raised an even more pressing question.

Was I ready to be with Fred?

It seemed almost impossible to me that it could be that simple. The two of us had spent two full years dancing around the topic and acting like downright morons. Of course, I suppose it was somewhat understandable. Young love isn't always an exact science. But could it really be that easy? Could I honestly just reach out and take it?

"Juliet!"

My head snapped up at the sound of Angelina's scolding voice. It seemed she had grown at lot less timid with me when she was on the field. Out here, she was boss.

I quickly realized why she was screeching my name. During my daydreaming, all of my team mates had launched into the air, leaving me standing on the ground staring at my feet.

I heard several quite audible snickers from the Keeper hopefuls on the sidelines, and took a moment to fix them with a threatening glare.

A few of them stared back at me, grinning maliciously.

Cocky bastards.

It was then that I noticed a patch of fiery red hair sticking out from the group of hopefuls. My eyes widened and I did a double-take.

"Ron?" I asked incredulously, watching as the lanky red-head tried to duck behind his peers.

"Ron's here?" George yelled from above me.

I watched as Ron's ears grew bright red in embarrassment as Fred and George erupted in violent laughter.

"Juliet—" Angelina called again, sounding weary already.

"Sorry, Ange," I said apologetically as I quickly joined the others up in the air.

"Alright," she said, satisfied that we were all ready for tryouts to begin. Katie smacked Fred over the head with her hand as he and George continued to chortle with laughter. "Fred, George, please," Angelina urged.

"It's no wonder he didn't tell anyone he was coming," Katie said with a distasteful look at the boys. "You've got him scared stiff."

Fred and George didn't seem to care at all that their brother now looked as though he were considering running back to the castle. In fact, they were waving furiously at him, and blowing kisses down to where he stood on the field. Those standing around him had begun to join in, laughing at his expense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Angelina demanded. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Fred and George turned reluctantly to face the rest of the group, still with wide grins plastered on their faces.

"I pity Ron," I said with a shake of my head.

"The Chasers are going to have the biggest jobs today," Angelina said, cutting off the discussion. "Katie, you and Juliet will be trying to get past each of the Keepers. Each of them will have a chance to stop five throws. Remember that they're all inexperienced, so start off a little slower with the first one."

Katie and I nodded to show we understood. It wasn't the first time Angelina had given us this instruction. She had begun to remind me quite a lot of Oliver Wood. I wouldn't have thought it possible for someone to be as keen about Quidditch as that boy was, but I had a feeling Angelina was going to give him a run for his money this year.

"I will be doing observation, so I won't be taking part in the actual run-throughs," she continued. "George and Fred, I'm going to have the girls take three shots on each of the hopefuls with you two on the sidelines. Then I'm going to get the two of you to introduce one Bludger into the mix—just one," she urged. "I want to see how they can do with another ball flying around."

"A Galleon says I can knock Ron off his broom," Fred said with an evil grin.

Angelina fixed him with a hard stare.

"That's a fool's bet, and you know it," George said with a laugh.

"Even though you're all going to be taking part, I'm going to ask for all of your opinions at the end of the tryouts. So pay attention," Angelina said strongly. "Fred and George, I want you to fetch the Bludger, but keep it away from this end of the field until I say so. Katie, you've got the Quaffle?" Katie held the leather ball out, "Good. You and Juliet get set. I'll fetch the first Keeper."

Angelina sped off toward the group of anxious-looking players below. Fred and George fixed Katie and I with malicious grins.

"How much d'you want to bet Ron makes a fool of himself?" Fred asked.

"Nothing," Katie said irritably. "I'm sure he'll do fine."

"He already looks like he's going to throw up on himself," I pointed out, staring down at Ron's green face and red ears. "Maybe you should leave him alone."

Fred and George made faces of disgust.

"Leave him alone?" George said, as if the idea was preposterous. "Where's the hilarity in that?"

The two of them took off to fetch a Bludger, laughing all the way there.

"I don't think I missed out on much," I said as Katie and I took our places at centre field, "growing up as an only child. I can't imagine getting teased relentlessly has been all that enjoyable for Ron."

"I don't care if they take the mickey out of him," Katie replied. "I'd just prefer if they didn't do it now. I don't want to be here as it is."

"Agreed," I said.

"Plus I don't think I'd enjoy watching Ron wet himself," she said with a grimace.

I doubled over in laughter at her statement, suddenly losing control of myself. Katie watched in amusement, before she too began clutching her stomach in hilarity.

"That's more like it," Fred yelled with approval upon hearing our giggles. He and George were situated behind us, batting a Bludger back and forth between them.

"Not you lot too," Angelina said wearily as she approached Katie and me. "I was counting on the two of you to take this seriously."

Katie and I sobered up immediately, promising we'd do our part to make the tryouts run as smoothly as possible.

"Okay," Angelina said, "start on my signal."

She sped away from us, situating herself so she had better view of the goalposts. I immediately recalled how frightened I had been when I had first tried out for the team. I very much pitied the terrified hopefuls this time around. Being scrutinized by an entire group of experienced Quidditch players was incredibly nerve-wracking.

"He can't be old enough to try out," Katie said, looking toward the Keeper taking his position in front of the hoops.

"He looks about seven," I commented.

The boy there had curly brown hair, and donned a look on his face that made me almost certain this was not going to go well. He was so pale, I thought he might collapse and fall from his broom. It made me think perhaps we should have a spotter set up.

Angelina yelled for us to begin, and Katie took off toward the goal. I sped behind her, and she made a backward pass to me. I remembered what Angelina had said: start them off easy. Keeping it in mind, I made a beeline for the goals, and neatly tossed the Quaffle into the far right hoop. The small boy lunged too late, and missed. Angelina marked it down on her clipboard.

"Alright, reset and go," Angelina instructed us, as Katie retrieved the falling Quaffle and we made our way back to the starting point.

"How many times do we have to do this?" Katie asked as we repositioned ourselves in the centre of the pitch.

I glanced over at the awaiting students.

"There are thirteen more after this," I told her with a disheartened frown. I did the math. "That makes sixty-nine more runs."

Katie sighed and took off once more at Angelina's signal. She passed neatly to me, and I soared over top of her, trading positions with her. I made a short zig-zag back, and tossed it into Katie's grasp. She wound up and—almost lazily—scored through the centre hoop.

The small boy was red with embarrassment and looked as though he might burst into tears.

I was tired of tryouts already.

The night continued with more of the same sad attempts. The sky continued to grow darker—as did the team's moods. Angelina was trying to keep a positive mind. She repeatedly assured us that someone amongst the lot must be good. I was having serious doubts.

It was quite disheartening, watching so many terrible Quidditch players try to save a few lousy goals. I had never realized how tediously boring Quidditch tryouts were. The last time I had attended them, I had been one of the hopefuls. Only now did I understand what a pain in the arse they were…especially when my mind had other things it could have been focused on instead.

Fred and George fast grew just as bored as the rest of us. They had a few laughs trying to knock the Keepers off their brooms, but that was cut short when Angelina scolded them for getting too close to causing them serious injury. Only when Ron's turn was up did their mischief start up again in earnest.

When Ron reached his turn—he was the second-to-last to try out—there were two to beat. One was a bloke named Geoffrey Hooper (an annoying whiny bugger whom none of us liked) and a girl called Vicky Frobisher who had started the try out by informing us that she already was committed to several other activities. They were both fair fliers, and far surpassed everyone else who had come out.

I could tell from Ron's expression that he was definitely feeling the pressure. I sincerely hoped he did well. I by no means wanted to end up with the moaning bloke as a member of our team.

When Ron settled himself in front of the hoops I was struck with a momentary urge to go easy on him. Not because I was desperate for him to beat the others, but because he looked downright sick. It was truly pitiful, watching him sit up there, swaying on his broom as if he were about to fall over. I shared a look of unease with Katie, and listened to Fred and George cackling behind me.

Katie and I were well used to our roles by now, and we started off with an easy shot. Ron, by some miracle, caught it neatly and tossed it back to me. My eyes widened a bit in surprise. He noticed, and sent a sheepish grin my way. He still looked like he might throw up on himself.

Twice more Katie and I soared through the air to attempt a goal, and twice more Ron surprised me by blocking the Quaffle.

"Good, Ron," Angelina complimented. "Now we're going to do the same thing, but Fred and George are going to bring the Bludger into play."

Ron went from green to white in the matter of a moment.

"What's the matter Ronniekins?" Fred asked in a sing-song voice.

"Afraid of your big brothers, are you?" George teased.

"Alright, let's move it along," Angelina said. "When you're ready, Ron."

Katie and I had to watch ourselves, because Fred and George were getting a little carried away. They seemed very keen on trying to knock Ron off of his broom, as they batted the Bludger around with more force than necessary. As we soared towards Ron, I had to barrel roll to avoid being hit. I only narrowly managed to get out of the way.

"Whoops, sorry, Jules!" George shouted as I tossed the Quaffle to Katie.

Katie zig-zagged around Fred—who had made his way into the goal area to purposely distract Ron—and threw the ball at the centre hoop. He caught it effortlessly this time, and actually managed a grin through his nervousness.

"Well done, Ron!" Angelina commended.

We reset once more, Katie starting with the Quaffle.

She passed it sideways to me, and I tossed it quickly back to her. We crossed over each other, Katie once more whipping the ball at me.

Ron's eyes were locked on the Quaffle as I approached him. I was impressed that he seemed to be able to block out the yells of Fred and George.

I dodged the Bludger Fred sent my way and whipped the Quaffle toward the left hoop. For a moment I thought it was in, but Ron managed to stop it with his fingertips, sending it drifting off course.

My jaw dropped in astonishment as Ron realized what he had just done. The twins looked positively shell-shocked, and Katie was beaming.

"Excellent, Ron," Angelina said. "You can relax now."

Ron looked as though he might burst into tears from relief. I flew round and gave him a firm slap on the shoulder. Fred and George looked pleased, despite the efforts they had made to publicly embarrass him. Frobisher and Hooper both looked disheartened.

As Ron left the field, the last hopeful took his place. She was a mean-looking third year girl with dark hair and fierce eyes. Of all the competitors, she looked the most prepared.

But, as seen with Ron, looks cannot always be trusted. The angry-looking girl managed to save only two of the five shots.

Angelina flew down to thank all of those who tried out, and told them they'd announce the new Keeper after she had spoken to the rest of the team. Nearly all of them waited by the stands as Fred, George, Katie, Angelina and I hurried toward the change room to talk it over.

"I think it's going to be Ron," Angelina said when we'd made it into the change room. "Those other two are both better on a broom… but that one bloke has an attitude problem, and the girl is too involved in extra-curricular activities as it is."

She looked round at all of us for input.

"None of them were spectacular," Fred put in.

"Ron was the best," I said. "All things considered."

"He's a little rough, and he's going to have to combat the nerves, but I think we can work with him," Angelina said.

Katie nodded in agreement.

George shook his head sadly.

"Sometimes the Weasley charm is just too effective," he said.

"Yeah," Fred agreed, "Ickle Ronniekins somehow managed to win over all three of you girls."

"Disgusting, really," George said.

Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Can you two give me an honest answer?" she asked.

"I reckon he'll have to do," George said.

"So long as he can calm those bloody nerves of his," Fred added.

"We'll work on it," Angelina said, sounding sure of it.

I chuckled. "You do realize that now nearly half of our entire team is made up of Weasleys?"

Katie grimaced a little at my comment, and Fred and George beamed.

"I guess Ron's not all bad," George said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "Hey, if we get Ginny a spot, we can rule the entire team."

"Well, seen as we now have a full team, that won't be happening," Angelina said in good humour. "Get changed and head in. I'll go give Ron the good news."

Angelina headed back out the way she came, both to congratulate Ron and crush the others. As soon as she had left the dressing room, George spoke up.

"Weird taking orders from Ange, don't you think?" he said, tugging his shoes off and tossing them in his Quidditch bag.

"She's no Oliver Wood," Katie joked.

"You actually miss Wood?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Kates liked him, remember?" I pointed out.

"Aren't you still with that Ethan bloke?" George questioned.

Katie nodded. "That doesn't mean I couldn't enjoy the view—and Oliver Wood was definitely one hell of a view."

Fred and George grimaced.

"So before she returns," George said, sending Katie and unappreciative look, "what do we think of Captain Angelina?"

His question seemed to be directed toward me in particular.

"I told you yesterday, Ange and I are fine," I reminded him. "And better her as captain than one of you freak shows."

Fred and George fixed me with equally hard stares.

"Fair enough," George responded.

Just then, from somewhere outside, Ron's scream of excitement could be heard echoing through the pitch. The four of us stopped and stared at each other momentarily, and then Fred and George leapt to their feet.

Grinning evilly, the two of them took off at top speed, back out the change room door, presumably to tease their little brother relentlessly.

Katie and I rolled our eyes as we watched them go. George wasn't wearing any shoes.

Despite Fred and George's continuous teasing, Ron seemed quite pleased with himself for making the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry was positively ecstatic. And, although the rest of us were wary of the fact that Ron needed a lot of improvement before he would be good enough to compete in any matches, we were all happy for him too.

Unfortunately, the high from getting our team put together didn't last very long. Regular classes were in full swing, and things had seriously begun to deteriorate. Professor McGonagall was more grouchy than usual, and we were positive Professor Umbridge had more than a little to do with it.

The other professors were also on edge, as rumours of Umbridge reporting to the Ministry about the staff had begun floating around. None of the students knew for certain, and we hadn't devised another plan to spy on her yet. Of course, after her torturing Harry and Fred, I wasn't so keen on getting any nearer to her than was absolutely necessary.

The professors were also shoving NEWTs and graduation down our throats constantly. Our homework load increased substantially—almost to the point of ridiculousness. I was positive there was no way I would be able to juggle everything that was going on. It was preposterous.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was fast becoming the worst class of all time. Umbridge had made good on her threat to split our group up. Of course, we weren't going to be able to get away with another five person walk-out, so we had to endure it. And here I was thinking she couldn't make the class any worse. She had already banned wand usage. Add that to the fact that the sound of her voice made my head nearly explode, and there wasn't much more she could do.

Alas, I was left seated in the far corner of the classroom, completely isolated from all of the others. I was situated at the back of the room, on the far left. George was also at the back, but in the far right-hand corner. Katie was seated at the very front of my row. If everyone else's heads were hunched over, I could stare directly at the back of her blonde head. Lee had been placed closest to the door at the front right corner, and Fred was smack-dab in the middle of the classroom.

She couldn't possibly have spread us any further apart. Wonderful.

"Please turn your books to page seventy-three," Umbridge squeaked.

I did, and grumbled as I eyed the title at the top of the page:

Duelling Etiquette for Beginners

It was bad enough that she was having us work out of a text book meant for second years. Even worse that she insisted we take notes on thoroughly pointless topics. Not only had we already learned how to duel, but nothing we were now studying was relevant in the real world at all. Bloody stupid, if you ask me.

"Please take notes on the proper procedures of organized wizard duelling," she said, fixing the room with her beady little eyes. "Talking is not necessary, and therefore not permitted."

She sat down at her desk, and pulled a small stack of parchment towards her. She pulled a quill out of her drawer and began scratching away. I wasn't sure what she was marking up, exactly. It couldn't have been something overly important. I was certain she wasn't actually qualified to do any serious teaching.

I pulled out my own quill unenthusiastically. I had absolutely no intention of taking notes in this class. There was no point. Instead I began doodling idly on the edge of my page. I looked up every once in a while to ensure Umbridge wasn't coming to investigate, although I was certain I would be able to hear her chunky feet hitting the floor well in advance in the event that she made her way over. I'd have plenty of warning.

I grew very bored very quickly. I could feel myself drifting off as my hand continued to doodle on the parchment. My eyes were falling closed when something caught my eye.

I was perplexed. There, in the centre of my page, words began to appear. I recognized the writing immediately.

Don't even try to pretend you're not staring longingly at me from over there.

I snapped my head up to look at Fred where he was seated in the middle of the classroom. He turned momentarily to wink at me, and then began scrawling on the page in front of him. Moments later another line appeared directly beneath the first:

New prototype for the shop: Message-Sending Quills.

I stared in amazement. I watched Fred as he continued to write, and almost instantly the words once again appeared on the page in front of me.

There's one in your bag. Just write the name of the person you want to write to. The messages will deliver themselves.

I immediately began rummaging in my bag. My hand came into contact with a bundle of extra quills. I pulled them out, and eyed them. My eye was immediately caught. One of the quills had a sparkling orange W engraved at the top. I tugged it out from the bundle and eyed it curiously.

I dipped the quill in ink and scrawled the name Fred Weasley on the page, underneath the messages Fred had sent to me.

Is it working? I wrote.

I waited for a moment before Fred's writing appeared on my page once more, directly beneath my last sentence.

Yes. Cool, isn't it? We have Umbridge to thank for this one. Her torture quill gave me the idea.

I was taken aback by that development. Only someone like Fred would be able to take something as horrifying as a quill that writes in your own blood and subsequently carves up your skin, and turn it into a clever—and harmless—invention.

Unbelievable. This is bloody brilliant.

I had to do something after she split us all up. This class was bad enough already.

Tell me about it. When did you do this?

Perfected it last night. It's good, right? She should have known better than to try and deter us. There's no defeating the Weasley twins.

I snickered. He was definitely right there. When Fred and George set their minds to something, they were an unstoppable force. It was quite frightening, really.

Unbelievable. You've outdone yourselves this time.

You flatter me.

I stared at the quill in my hand, highly impressed with Fred's brilliance. He and George had done some pretty incredible things, but this one may have tipped the scale.

How far do they work, distance-wise?

We haven't tested them for distance. They should work anywhere—within reason. I wouldn't trust them overseas or out of the country, say.

That's handy. You may very well eliminate owls for post!

I hadn't thought of that!

Like I said, brilliant.

I glanced up to check on Umbridge. She was still bent over her stack of papers, scratching away with an evil little smile on her face. I glared at her. I was surprised she couldn't feel the hatred radiating from me.

I turned my attention back to my conversation with Fred.

How freaked out would Umbridge be if her parchment started talking to her?

I watched as Fred looked toward the front of the room. He grinned at me over his shoulder and then turned back to his parchment.

Let's find out.

My eyes widened in excitement and I grinned mischievously to myself.

Keep your head down so she won't suspect either of us. You won't be able to read what I'm writing once I address the messages to her. They only work between two people.

Got it.

Once I had scrawled the last words on the parchment, I crumpled it up and shoved it back into my book bag. If Umbridge got suspicious and started checking up on our notes, she'd certainly punish both Fred and me. I unrolled a fresh length of parchment and began scribbling duelling notes down as a cover.

From the corner of my eye I watched Fred.

His quill was flying across the page. I bit down on my fist to contain my laughter.

After a few moments, I chanced a look up to the front of the classroom where Umbridge sat.

I almost lost it.

Umbridge was staring down at her papers with a look of pure astonishment and horror. Her face was screwed up in an expression that seemed torn between disgust and fear. I watched as she glanced curiously at her quill, and then lifted the parchment to check underneath it.

Her gaze moved to scan the classroom, and I immediately snapped my eyes back down to my desk.

I didn't chance another look up, but continued scribbling down the meaningless dribble Professor Umbridge had assigned us. As predicted, though, I did manage to hear her approach when her fat feet started to make their way through the aisles.

I cast a look toward Fred, hoping he had noticed and stopped whatever it was he was writing.

Umbridge made her way down the rows, spending extra time eyeing up Lee and George's notes. It was quite obvious she was going to be suspicious of the whole lot of us for the entire term. I hoped Fred had managed to hide his notes, or he'd be in for another one of Toad Woman's unpleasant detentions.

I'm not sure what Umbridge thought she was looking for. Surely she wasn't smart enough to have figured out what was going on, was she?

Another glance up at her face told me that she definitely had no idea why her parchment had suddenly started addressing her. She was checking on us purely because we had raised suspicion before. I kind of regretted it in hindsight.

I held my breath when she reached Fred's desk. I didn't want him to be caught. The joke had been my idea, after all.

She lingered over his shoulder, staring at him as he continued to jot notes from his text.

"Is something the matter, Professor?" he asked, looking up at her with pleasant curiosity.

Her eyes narrowed in obvious suspicion.

"No, Mr. Weasley," she replied. Clearly she hadn't found anything incriminating. "Just ensuring you are on task."

Fred kept his eyes locked on hers for a moment longer, until she carried on her way.

I was the last person that she came to check on. It was only then that I noticed she was clutching the offending piece of parchment in her hand. Tilting my head, I could just make out the words foolhardy and toad-like. I contained my laughter—only just.

Umbridge eyed me furiously for a few moments, looming over me as though I were some kind of slave. Her fist was clenched around the bit of parchment with much more force than necessary, causing the paper to crinkle. I marvelled at how effective a prank as simple as that had been. Fred had struck gold with this new invention. I was sure of it.

Finding nothing of interest on my desk or the surrounding area, Professor Umbridge waddled back to the front of the room. She sat back down, and I watched as she re-examined the page in her hands.

There were tears in my eyes. She looked positively furious.

See her face?

Fred was back. I scrawled his name again.

Bloody brilliant. You'll have to tell me what you wrote.

I will. Thanks for saving me, there.

I stared at his writing in confusion.

What do you mean?

I forgot to tell you, when you're finished, you have to write: 'Message completed. Otherwise everything you write with that quill will show up on my page. When Umbridge walked by, my parchment was filled with your notes. She must have thought they were mine.

I grinned.

Oops. Accidental. But you're welcome.

I glanced back up at Umbridge. She was staring down at the parchment with fear in her eyes. I wondered what was going through her head…probably thought it was part of the ever-growing conspiracy she believed was going on. Perhaps she thought the parchment would start attacking her. I chuckled to myself at the mental picture of Umbridge being smothered by a viscous length of parchment.

When I looked back down at my page, I had another note from Fred.

Before I forget…after class, I wanted to talk to you. Okay?

I frowned a little. It wasn't like Fred to ask if we could talk. Not unless it was something important…

My heart rate picked up a little.

He didn't want to talk about us, did he?

Thoughts of smothering Umbridge immediately left my mind.

What if he did want to talk about us?

I started to panic a little bit. I knew George had told me I should think about my relationship with Fred, but I had never expected that Fred himself would confront me about it! I was under the impression that the ball was completely in my court…and I wasn't sure I was ready to make the decision right here and now. I still needed time to weigh my options!

Sure, I had feelings for Fred, but did that really mean I should jump into the relationship right here and now?

Maybe it did…but it had only been a few days since my conversation with George. And since then, my head had been swimming with a whole lot of other worries. I didn't have enough time to think the whole Fred thing through.

Juliet?

I gripped my quill again, feeling suddenly nauseas.

Yeah, we can talk.

My stomach lurched.

Good. Now you'd best get back to work. I know I'm distracting, but try to keep your eyes off of me.

I frowned down at the words. Fred was distracting me. But now that he wanted to 'talk', he was distracting in a whole new way.

I'll do my best.

Although Defence Against the Dark Arts tended to drag on, because my head was now swimming with worries about what I was going to say to Fred, the time seemed to fly. Before I had managed to even come up with a game plan, Professor Umbridge was dismissing the class. As we filed out of the room, she fixed me with a suspicious stare, but I was so distracted that I barely registered it.

"That class is complete rubbish," Lee grumbled. He was the first out of the room, and waited for the rest of us to catch up.

"Agreed," Katie said glumly.

"I've never experienced a bigger waste of time," Lee continued.

"Let's not dwell on it, it'll spoil my appetite," George said.

It was lunch time, and the group of us were headed for the Great Hall. We had only taken a few steps when Fred grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me back so I was in step with him.

"Sit with me?" he said as we arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"I always sit with you," I pointed out, quirking my eyebrow in confusion. At the same time my stomach was filling with butterflies. I felt like I might be sick.

"I know," he said, "but we're having a talk, remember?"

"Right now?" I asked, feeling slightly anxious. He was seriously going to breach the subject with everyone else right next to us?

He eyed me curiously.

"Why not?"

The group of us had reached the Gryffindor table. I shoved my bag under the table and took a seat on the bench next to Fred. As he piled food onto his plate, he turned so he was facing me, effectively blocking the others out of our conversation.

"I wanted to know how your talk with George went," he said under his breath.

My eyes widened in sudden realization, and I felt a weight lift off of my chest.

"Oh!" I said.

He shot me a confused look.

"Why? What did you think I wanted to talk about?" he asked, smirking at my surprised expression.

I shook my head, clearing the earlier worries from my mind. There was no way I was going to tell him where I thought the conversation was going to go.

"Nothing," I lied.

He eyed me suspiciously, but didn't press the subject.

"Okay…so how did things go with George?" he asked quietly. The others were chatting animatedly about another matter entirely, and took no notice of the two of us.

I stared at Fred, trying to find my tongue. Suddenly I couldn't think clearly. Did he honestly just want to talk about George?

I cleared my throat.

"George…uh, yeah," I said, clamping my eyes shut in an attempt to refocus my thoughts. "It went surprisingly well, actually."

Fred definitely looked confused now.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said automatically. "I'm fine. And so is George, it seems."

"Really?" Fred asked. I wasn't sure if he was asking about me or his brother.

I nodded.

I was feeling very apprehensive, and I was entirely uncertain as to why. I tried to calm my nerves. Fred didn't want to talk about us. There was no reason to feel uneasy.

"What did he say?" Fred asked.

I cleared my throat, casting a glance toward Lee, Katie, and George to ensure they were occupied.

"Alicia broke up with him over the summer," I told him. "He kept it from us."

Fred's expression was surprised.

"Why?" he asked under his breath.

I bit down on my bottom lip.

"He didn't want us to worry," I said. It wasn't the whole truth. George didn't want me to have to worry about him on top of the feud with my mother and Cedric's death. He didn't want Fred to have to worry about anything but his relationship with me. I wasn't about to raise that issue here, especially when I had so narrowly avoided it already.

"I can't believe he didn't tell us," he said, glancing over at his brother with a frown on his face.

"I know," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he's fine."

George caught the two of us staring at him, and turned to us with a look of amusement and mild surprise on his face.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said.

George fixed the two of us with a suggestive grin. Oddly, I hoped Fred would catch sight of it. I hoped he would see the way the others looked back and forth between us, as if surveying the unspoken relationship between us. I wanted him to have to say something…I wanted him to bring it up.

What the bloody hell was wrong with me? Hadn't I been freaking out when I thought Fred was going to talk about us? Had I not wanted to avoid that conversation? Half an hour ago I was wishing with sincerity that Fred wouldn't breach the topic. I was supposed to be the one to bring it up.

But maybe I didn't want to be.

Maybe I wanted Fred to make the first move. It was preposterous, really. Of course Fred wasn't going to be the first to do anything. It was supposed to be my job. We both knew that.

There was no way Fred could, with sound mind, confront me about my feelings. It would be stupid of him. He wouldn't pressure me like that, after everything I had been through. He shouldn't, and he knew enough not to. But still…I wished he would.

I looked over at Fred and grinned at him, trying to hide the cowardly feelings brewing inside of me. He grinned back, and then threw himself into conversation with the rest of the group. Angelina joined us soon after, and everyone's attention was turned to the topic of Quidditch practices.

That left me frowning down at my plate of food.

How could I be brave enough to stand up for Harry Potter…be brave enough to want to avenge Cedric Diggory…be brave enough to wish to join the Order of the Phoenix…

And yet I was too cowardly to tell Fred Weasley I wanted to be with him?

Gryffindor courage, indeed.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please take the time to review.