Somewhat of a long AN here, guys, bear with me while I go Grammy/BAFTA (conveniently on tonight)/Oscar ThankYouSpeech. Or skip it, whatever.
First off, thank you so much for getting me over 100 reviews! That's...insane. I honestly never thought I'd get this many and from the bottom of my heart I thank each and every one of you (even though I do respond to all reviews saying thanks, here's another collective thank you!). I cannot forget my silent followers/favourites as well. Thank you for reading. Over 17,000 views! That's crazy. Mad. Unthinkable. Exciting.
Thank you to my parents, for introducing me to the wonders of literature and encouraging me to write the nonsense in my head from my left-handed, scribbling days (no longer left-handed. Not ambidextrous, unforutneately). And to God, for giving me hands and fingers and an imagination.
Too much?
In response to CrowningAster, thank you for the constructive criticism, I don't get enough, I hope the beginning of this chapter explains the separation of Fred and George during their childhood when George would go to Ottery and meet Ella. For all other readers, she merely said that she found it hard to imagine them being away from each other so much prior to Hogwarts.
Thank you to zaneri0t (whom I have already thanked in my other story Mending Broken Souls - shameless adveritising) for getting me Microsoft Word on my new laptop! Without the help I'd be turning my house upside down for the millionth time looking for the disk.
Thanks to sarahmichellegellerfan1 for reviewing loads of chapters and getting me over 100.
And, once again, to every single bloody one of you. Hi. Cheers. Enjoy.
Possibly the last update until the end of June once my exams have ended.
PS. If anyone can think of better chapter titles for any of my chapters please share. Mine are bollocks.
Disclaimer: Bagman's speech for the third task taken from Goblet of Fire. JK owns.
29. Life is Everything and Nothing
"They were absolute terrors when they finally reached double digits – Fred more so than George. Oh, they were creating a new mess every day. I once found Ron in the chicken coop being chased by the chickens, crying his eyes out! Poor boy didn't seem to realise there was feed in his shoes. Or that the gate was open. He always did miss the obvious when in a tizzy. Oh, but punishing them was worse – an absolute nightmare. I had to distance them quite a bit, and Fred – the little devil – I couldn't trust that boy with anything. I'd send one out to town to get groceries, on a time limit, of course, and if he took too long, that was it! His dessert privilege – gone. But they never approved of their twin being left out. They always snuck some into their room to give to the other. The mess they made when I happened to make trifle."
Mrs Weasley had been keeping me occupied for the past few hours on a long walk around the castle, talking about anything and everything relating to the twins from the moment they were born. We were accompanied by Harry, exempt from his exams, and she would converse with him on matters in the Ministry and her son, Percy. I hadn't heard much of the issues they were discussing, so they whiled the afternoon away explaining everything until it was time for the evening feast.
The boys had departed long ago, running off to cause havoc and pester others, no doubt. They were not released from their mother's eyesight without a verbal warning accompanied by her trademark glare – including Bill, who had caught the fancy of Fleur Delacour, and Charlie.
Everything about the woman had been perfectly illustrated to me over the years by George and Fred. She was small and podgy, and yet she exerted a powerful aura, one that only an admirable mother could produce despite her shabby robes that were decades old made obvious by the frays and tears. Her laughter was the sweetest sound, the lines around her eyes lighting up her face with a youthful glow. Her red hair was as vibrant as her children's, frizzy and wild. But her joy was ephemeral, completely expected what with her troublesome twins running around.
We had taken a pause from our ambling in the courtyard sometime in the afternoon, joined by Ginny. After telling Mrs Weasley about Imogen's Bakery and all the sugary splendour she served, the Weasley matriarch had vowed to visit before beginning a new tale of Fred attempting to use one of his brother's wands to steal her homemade chocolate cake on Ron's fifth birthday. The faces Ginny was morphing and stretching her face into had me biting my tongue in fear of spraying my laughter all over Mrs Weasley as she animatedly re-enacted her scolding when she had found him sitting on the floor covered in frosting, licking the chocolatey substance off his fingers.
It had only been a matter of time that the twins would attempt to get past their mother with a devious prank, both to satiate their boredom as well as producing a reaction from her, making up for all the months lost. The excitement from the third and final task begged for a masterpiece from the duo. They were hidden from view, but the levitating water balloons was such a Weasley twin display that Mrs Weasley had burned red simply from hearing the shrieks and splashes of water. Her hands fisted in her lap and she muttered under her breath, spitting out devils, imprudent monkeys, twits and foolish Neanderthals.
Two stomps forward before turning back around.
"Sorry, Harry, Ella dear, I just need to go and sort something out," she said. Her smile was strained and her eye twitched.
"By something she means Fred's and George's deaths," Ginny murmured.
"Oh, it's almost time for the feast. I'll meet you in the Hall," she said, her feet shuffling towards the sounds of identical laughter. "Ginny, be a dear and make sure your brothers don't say anything ridiculous. I'll see you soon!"
Ginny clapped her hands, grinning at her mother's retreating back. "So –"
"Fred and George WEASLEY! Get back here right now or so help me –"
A door slammed shut, cutting off Mrs Weasley's voice.
"Well, that lasted longer than I expected," Ginny said.
"What did?"
"Her not getting pissed off by them."
The initial shock of being suddenly drenched by water was overcome by the second years, the summer air having dried much of the moisture, splotches of shadowed colour here and there being the only indicator to the attack. Perhaps the twins would instigate a massive water fight before school ended.
"Reckon we should make our way to the Hall?" I asked.
Harry nodded, and we shouldered our bags. We crossed the courtyard and conversed about the upcoming summer holidays when I collided into a body.
"Whoa, easy there," came Cedric's voice, his hands keeping me from teetering over.
"Cedric. Hi," I smiled. "How you feeling?"
He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his neck. "Not so great, to be honest. I can't stop shaking, I'm so nervous." To show the intensity of his nervousness Cedric held out his hands, both quaking rather violently. "How 'bout you, Harry? Sorry about before – my dad –"
"It's not a problem, Cedric," Harry said, no doubt having heard Cedric apologise on the behalf of his father's egotistical behaviour numerous times. It was expected now. His hands too were trembling.
"You'll be great," I said, directing my comment to both boys.
"Can I count on you cheering me on?"
"Sorry, Ced," Ginny interjected, her arm thrown around my neck. "Gryffindor girls support the Gryffindor. We're for Harry."
He chuckled. "Fair enough."
"I guess I can try to squeeze your name somewhere amongst all the 'Harry's. But, with the twins around…" I rolled my eyes, knowing full well of the grudge they still held against him from the previous year's Quidditch match. Their personalities led to a carefree attitude, and the grudge had dissipated somewhat, and their occasional encouragement of Cedric could sometimes be heard.
"Well then, a good luck now should be fine otherwise I'll be waiting until I'm grey and on my death bed."
"Nice to know you think my brother and Ella will still be strong together by then," Ginny grinned, sending me a wink and a nudge.
"Good luck, Cedric. Have you eaten anything?" I asked, worry taking over as I noticed the pastiness of his face, identical to the ghostly pallor I had seen in the Hospital Wing.
"Would you hurt me if I said no?"
"Cedric."
"I had a pasty for lunch. I was just on my way to meet Cho, actually. Knowing her she'll force feed me something." The thought of his girlfriend tinged his cheeks with some colour and he shook his head, chuckling, knowing exactly how much of a lovesick puppy he looked. Fortunately, Harry didn't seem too perturbed. Either he didn't care or he was too focussed on the prospect of the task being so soon.
"She's good for you."
"Too good. I don't know what I'd do without her," he sighed.
"How sickening," Ginny teased, shoving Cedric.
He didn't linger much longer; time before the third task was flying past and Cedric was becoming shifty, anxious to be soothed by his girlfriend. We gave him final reassurances – I had to force myself not to blurt out anything about the damn Blast-Ended Skrewt he was going to encounter, having killed off its partner a while ago. What with it being left alone it was in no doubt desperate for some action. It had escaped my mind all throughout the day, and I had to think strongly before accidentally blurting out the news to Harry.
We turned, ready to make our way inside, when I was overcome with the sudden urge to hug him. It was quick and awkward, us both stiff at the unanticipated embrace. In a past year I would have conflicted with myself over whether to hug him or not, having met and conversed with him only twice, only to walk away and think it over some more, conjuring up all the possible scenarios that could have occurred. Hogwarts seemed to bring out another side to me – a bolder, braver me. Or was that the influence of Fred?
It was over within seconds, and we laughed as we separated.
Cho was a lucky girl.
The Weasley's were easy to spot at the Gryffindor table, their bright heads of hair standing out amongst the typical browns, blonds and blacks.
There were noticeably more courses than usual, and I noticed Harry playing with his food more than eating it. Soon, Dumbledore announced the champions to follow Bagman to the stadium. The Gryffindors applauded Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione more so than anyone else as he made his way to the others.
Fred grabbed my hand and tugged me along beside him on our way to the Quidditch Pitch. Mrs Weasley's eyes on us was painfully apparent. His presence didn't last long, as he ran off with George and Lee once their mother had turned her eyes away for a second. He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, and with a wink flew off into the crowds.
The Pitch was loud when I arrived with Ginny, and we sat with the other Weasleys. The Quidditch Pitch looked nothing like how it usually did, transformed into a maze surrounded by a twenty-foot-high hedge along the edges. The blackness from inside the entrance, from what I could see, looked eerily frightening. Within the hedges held one Blast-Ended Skrewt along many other horrific obstacles.
Mrs Weasley was nowhere to be seen, and the image she had projected earlier of her spanking the twins during their toddler years surfaced.
"Ella," said the tanned Weasley, every bit as handsome as Bill, although less lanky punk and more wrestler buff. He held his hand out. "Charlie."
His warm hand engulfed mine. "Hello."
"So, you like dragons?" he smirked.
"How did you know?"
"Hagrid owled me and said he had this fantastic student with a natural talent he hadn't seen since the brilliant Charlie Weasley." Charlie crossed his arms, his biceps flexing, and from under his sleeve a tail of ink poked out. I had been wondering earlier in the day whether Hagrid had been in contact with the Weasley dragon wrangler he had informed me of. Charlie definitely looked the part, the scars of burnt skin paying tribute to his job alongside his build. Insecurity overcame me.
"Oh, I wouldn't say natural talent," I mumbled, brushing my hair behind my ear. A nervous habit, fiddling with my hair. I should have tied it back.
Charlie's hand pushed mine aside as he fingered a lock of my hair. "Hagrid doesn't bullshit. You must have some serious gall to want to work with dragons."
"I-I didn't say it was a permanent decision," I gulped. Ginny's gaze on us was tickling my skin, my shoulder burning to roll away the annoying itch. Bill's eyes were glued to the pretty French on the ground. Where the bloody hell was Fred?
"No need to fret, sweets, you've got plenty of time to decide. However, let me give you a bonus on choosing a career with dragons: you'll get to see me more often."
Sweets?Oh, his arrogance was so familiar – so condescendingly smug and…Weasley. And that bloody wink.
I leaned in closer, the finger that was playing with my hair moving to rest on the side of my neck. "Oh, is that so?" I said.
Charlie smirked, his teeth gleaming from the parting of his lips. "Freddie boring you already? I can show you what it's like to be with a real man."
Ginny failed to suppress a laugh and covered it with a futile cough.
"Hmm, sounds promising, Charles."
Twitching of a plump, pink lip. "It's Charlie."
"But a real man would prefer Charles, no?"
"Not this one."
"But Charles is much more mature. And, it's the proper term."
"You saying my mum can't name her kids properly?" He quirked his eyebrow, but still, the smirk remained.
"It was actually dad who thought up your name," Ginny whispered, having to lean in to get our attention. Charlie's thumb began to rub circles, his coarse skin wonderful against my smooth neck, the feeling comparable to that of putting on a new pair of denims on freshly shaved legs.
"Bugger off, Gin."
"So, Charles, how would you show me the wonders of being with a real man opposed to a boy like Fred?" I asked.
He grinned. "Well, Ella, I'd first have to remove the poor judgements you have on kissing from no doubt swapping spit with my amateur of a brother."
The image of swapping spit was not an appealing one – it left an impression a slobbery, smooching toddler. Most definitely not Fred.
"And how would you go about ensuring that?"
Our faces were close now, his breath, like the spices cardamom, pepper and paprika, gently blowing over my face. But before he could demonstrate his intention we were shoved apart, a body squeezing itself in between.
"Honestly, I'm gone for five minutes and you two decide to console each other with your tongues," Fred scolded, shaking his head. "Charles, I expected this from, but my darling Ella! Oh, how I've corrupted you into a world of infidelity."
He fell into my shoulder, loud exaggerated weeps escaping him. I rolled my eyes, his display catching too much attention for my liking, and rubbed his back.
"Pull yourself together, you big baby."
"Told you you were with a measly boy, Ella," Charlie said. He shuffled more to the side and gazed over to a loud group to his right – George in the centre, grinning – before hitting Fred on the arm. "Oi, what are you and Thing Two doing?"
"I think you mean Weasley boy."
"You're catching a horrendous sense of humour, Elle," Fred said, no longer crying but kept his head on my shoulder. "I thought my influence over you would be good, but alas, you're twaddle is too powerful. As to George, he is taking final bets before the task starts."
"Why aren't you with him? You kind of ruined my wooing."
"Because my girlfriend was being hypnotised by a fucking ape."
"Prat."
The brothers continued their insults for a while longer until Charlie tinged red, his words stammering as the range of profanities diminished before he repeated one, to which Fred whooped and hollered in victory.
The professors and champions appeared on the pitch just as Fred ran off to complete the final bets with George before returning, once again plopping down between me and Charlie, who I found to be rather knowledgeable on not only dragons but many other magical creatures as well as a few muggle animals, the more exotic and endangered that many wizards were unaware of. He spoke of his time at Hogwarts and his summers at home, the bond he had with Bill being strongest out of all his brothers, then with Ron, strangely.
"Ladies and gentleman," Bagman's voice boomed from the ground. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each – Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause carried the birds away from the Forbidden Forest into the silence of the darkening sky. "In second place, on eighty points – Mr Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy!"
We all applauded politely, Mrs Weasley having seemingly appeared out of nowhere just in the nick of time. Harry turned and waved, and we all waved back, grinning and throwing our thumbs up.
"So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three – two – one –"
A short blow on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric sprinted off into the maze.
Mrs Weasley held her breath once Harry disappeared from sight, her hands resting on her chest and worry evident in every feature of her face. Hermione looked just as concerned.
Bagman blew on his whistle a second time, and Krum hurried in. Then a third, and Fleur followed.
It soon became apparent that the happenings of the third task would remain unknown to us, similar to the second task. Fred wasn't pleased. I couldn't blame him.
"You'd have thought that the bloody brains behind this would have figured out a way to keep us all occupied while they're battling for their lives," he moaned. "We could be working on more money making schemes!"
"They are not battling for their lives!" I chastised, swatting him in the chest.
"What money making schemes?" piped up Mrs Weasley, her head snapping over to Fred, squinted eyes looking every bit as suspicious as necessary.
"Nothing, mum. Just an inside joke," Fred said.
"Well, as sweet as that is I think I'd rather like to know."
There was a strange strangling noise coming from Fred's throat. He was saved from answering when a loud curse came from Ron, stealing Mrs Weasley's attention as she proceeded to scold him for his language.
"You got off lucky," I muttered.
"Yeah, think I'll thank Ron with a little present later," he grinned, and from his pocket poked out a little sweet. He quickly shoved it deep inside his pocket again, not daring to risk his mother seeing it. "Puking Pastille. Ah – I can just picture it now!"
George sat in front of us with Lee and the girls. It didn't escape my attention that George snuggled up to Alicia, and asking Fred had led to the revelation that there truly was nothing between them anymore, it was simply how they acted before their failed relationship. It was remarkable how they resumed normalcy so soon after their more intimate relations.
"They've been friends since first year," Fred had said, talking low so as not to alert them, his lips directly by my ear as if he wasn't talking at all – or at least not about anyone in particular. Every few moments his lips would graze along my sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver that did not escape Mrs Weasley. I would have been mortified if I had been paying more notice. "They snog and shag for a bit – completely normal, by the way, for friends to experiment with each other when they feel insecure or lonely – and you expect them to have this underlying, awkward tension where they can't look each other in the eye anymore? This isn't some clichéd story in a romance book, love. It doesn't work that way in real life. Not unless they actually loved each other and didn't want to admit it."
Words of wisdom were not usually associated with Fred, but it made perceptible a new side to him.
Friends. Angelina was his friend. Him at Angelina's house. Experimenting. Fred loved to experiment with potions and spells, did he have the same take with friends? He was reckless, so probably. Popular. Quidditch players. Athletic. Attractive. Gorgeous. It was normal. Her disappearing to places with him. Her being closest to him. Her laughing with Alicia at Katie fighting George and looking behind her to see him.
I hated myself for thinking that.
Charlie had left to talk to Hagrid, attracting the dazed eyes of many students. He had passed a group of Ravenclaws bunched up tightly, and in order to get through he had to squeeze between them. He had turned and winked at one just after they had made the tiniest jump.
"Not falling for my brother, now, are you?" Fred asked, poking me in the ribs.
"'Course not. You appreciate the better female specimens so I shall do the same."
"What better female specimens?" he asked. "I see only you, my love!"
There was nowhere to look so I cast my eyes around the stands and the professors. Many were conversing in whispers, eyeing the maze, unlike Moody who, for the first time I had seen, had both his normal eye and magical eye fixed on me. He had a frightening face, not at all the heroic Auror that he was made out to be, greatly scarred and weathered. The look on his face, his tongue darting out of his mouth like a hissing snake made me glad I didn't have to take Defence Against the Dark Arts. For the life of me I couldn't imagine how exciting his lessons could possibly be.
I could feel Fred shuffling, beginning as slight and then growing in intensity, his leg bumping into mine. Ignoring it was difficult, thinking he was just being silly for attention, but then his leg curved around my back and sat on my other side, his arms hugging me from the waist to his back. A giggle escaped me, his warm mouth, playful thin lips dancing and licking and kissing along my neck and face. A warm buzz in my stomach, skin tickling everywhere, but his arms held me strongly to him, insistent on not relinquishing his hold.
One arm moved lower, winding around my stomach, so slowly and lightly, coming to a stop at my left hip with a gentle squeeze. His other arm stayed firm across my ribs, then ghosted up higher, gripping my shoulder, and he pulled me – if possible – tighter against his front, moulding our bodies. Warmth, delicious warmth and hard muscle, pressed against my back, sending tingles through every nerve of my body. The hand on my hip lazily dragged his fingertips in a variety of odd shapes, his lips pressing a hot, wet kiss on the junction between my jaw and neck. An airy breath blew out of my lips, and I opened my eyes, realising I had closed them during Fred's ministrations. The presence of the entire population of Hogwarts and some foreign schools suddenly dawned.
"Fred," I said, but it hadn't come out nearly as loud as I wanted, my breath still lodged in my throat. The dreaminess urged Fred on more, thinking it as encouragement, and his lips playing repeatedly on that lovely spot on my neck – kisses, I had to remind myself, that's all they were – cleared my mind.
Only when someone cleared their throat Fred's mouth paused, but lingered for some time before hesitantly pulling away. I felt cold.
Mrs Weasley had an odd look on her face, a cross between wanting to admonish for such an intimate display in public – just kissing, not at all inappropriate – and cry and jump and sing in joy for Fred acting in such a way. After all, as I had been told many times, Fred wasn't a sentimental sap besotted with girls for more than a few weeks. The thought that he was with me caused a shooting pulse through my body and a thump of my heart.
We waited, quietly and careful. Fred was still hugging me to him, resting his chin on my shoulder having pushed my hair aside for clear access to my skin, his face tilting to lay against my neck. Her eyes shifted between us, warm, twinkling brown and delighted.
"Did I tell you about the time I caught Fred at home in his room writing a letter to Cel –?"
"Mum!"
They were drowned out in the sounds of cheerful howls and applauding from the stands. The conversation lost, we jumped up to see the arrivals and were overcome with joy to see both Harry and Cedric.
Relief. Utter, blissful and light relief washed over me. Fred's hands on my waist lifted and twirled me, the shock of my feet leaving the ground urging me to grasp onto his arms for dear life. Our lips crashed, elated laughter breaking through and mingling, teeth clashing and tongues touching. George jumped on my back, pushing me further into his brother, and the distinctive taste of blood poured from my cut lip.
We parted our kiss and hugged George.
"Who won?" I shouted.
"Who cares!"
"It was a Hogwarts champion!"
"Harry! Harry!"
Yells and shouting quietened the crowds, Harry, and another, and then the curious whispers of the students switched to yells and cries. We pulled apart to see the commotion, our arms never leaving each other.
The sweet relief drained in an instant, replaced by a cold fear, icy dread. My fingers shook, unbelieving of the scene – no, no, no – ice freezing my blood and veins.
It had only been this afternoon, hours ago, where we had been talking, joking about the task and cheering and supporting our House. He had wanted to see his girlfriend – were those her shrieking cries? Slapping her hands over mouth in a useless attempt to calm her devastation? – he had said she would look after him, encourage him in a way no other could, calm him, hold him, kiss him, his stresses and worries away. And now, it was her in need of him to kiss and hold and soother her pain away.
But he wouldn't.
He couldn't.
No, no, no, NO!
A hand on my waist clutched and pinched my skin. Was it Fred or George? I didn't care. But then the arm pulled me into him, the unique fusion of smells – sun, cheap, musky aftershave, smoke, soap – of Fred drifting through my nose, and my heart pounded, eyes shut, and I gripped him with all of me, surrounding myself with him, wanting to disappear back to our activities moments ago – had it only been moments? Fred was my escape, euphoria and sunshine personified into a human body. In my head I thanked God I had such a person all to myself.
There was no colour, none of the wavy and spherical patterns behind my eyelids that there usually were when I squeezed them, only blue eyes and red hair and freckles and a cheeky smirk and a horrendous wink and shy smile and bronze hair -
More hands rubbed my shoulders and back, and I thrust back a hand and linked my fingers with George's, his other arm holding Angelina.
Lying on the ground, pale and white, paler than ever before – from the time in the Hospital Wing to just before entering the maze – lifeless, still, handsomely numb, was the body of Cedric Diggory.
Cedric would not be turning grey after all. And his death bed, later to be revealed, was the cold, murky ground of a graveyard.