Due to the ending of my first exam (four left to go) I have decided to celebrate by working on a chapter during my weekend off studying (but full of housework and gardening and popping out to Homebase). It's almost midnight. I have to finish making my overnight cinnamon rolls now.

Thank you to all my followers/favourites and reviews! Special thanks to Guest - Carter for your wonderful review because I was feeling really quite crappy and then voila! Your review comes on my phone almost instantly and I'm smiling. So thank you. And to everyone else!

Fanfic recommendations have returned! For you Weasley twin lovers, get your pens ready:

1) Nothing Personal - TragicBlackButterfly

2) Playing With Fire - Blue Kat

3) Resurgence - CrowningAster

4) A Fair Amount of Courage - Blue Kat

5) Dead or Alive - Politelycynical (Western AU)

If you have read/will read any of these please let me know your thoughts on it. These are all wonderful writers in both their words and characters, fictional and self.

Enjoy!

30. Juxtaposition

"He's dead! Cedric's dead!"

From all around people were whispering and yelling, professors failing to subdue the cacophony of cries. It felt as if there was a thick wad of cotton in my throat, and I inhaled Fred's scent just as a whimper tickled my tongue. I needed Fred to consume my thoughts.

Sun. Golden rays of warmth kissing skin.

The musky, masculine smell one could only identify with men's aftershave, their title irrelevant because they all still bloody smelled the same.

The sweet burning scent of smoke from one too many burns and fires.

Soap. A slight whiff of spicy citrus.

Deep, smouldering chocolate, deliciously velvety with a hint of nuttiness.

It was an odd combination. But it was all Fred. All comfort and happiness and jokes and laughs and smiles and sweet kisses and tight hugs and hair playing and tickling and races and funny faces and crazy hair. He was a jar of Nutella personified, nutty and sweet and delicious and so, so necessary. I clung onto him, every part of him, memorising every detail. He was the perfect diversion.

But then his sweet and spicy glory evaporated, like a vicious tornado carrying it away, and with it, my comfort.

In its place came the acrid stench of rotten, waxy flesh, stinging my nostrils and scratching my throat. Vomit, piss, shit, blood all blinded my senses. I lost Fred in the midst of the smells, and I gripped tighter onto whatever it was my hands were holding. I stopped breathing, not wanting to let any of the fumes inside me, taint me, like nicotine destroying everything in its reach. It burned at my exposed flesh. I was sweating, shaking and crying. A green flash.

There was heat, scorching heat, like fire licking my skin, in my blood, a pounding in my head – trapped – no air, there was no air, where was the bloody air? More heat and suffocating like sitting in an oven with only hot air. Was this how dragons felt when blowing fire? Every cell burning, organs ready to burst, everything just melting and burning and –

A firecracker popped, the crowds screamed. Fred swore, muttering under his breath about stupid little kids running on his pranks, set up as a congratulation of sorts for the champion (what good use it was now; congratulations Cedric and Harry! You're dead and you most certainly almost died too!), scaring everyone, and then another firecracker went off. Everyone jumped and pushed harder.

Hands were on my face – blissfully cool hands against my hot skin – and breath fanned over me. My eyes snapped open to see beautiful blue, Fred's face inches from mine.

"Ella," he breathed and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then another. Students were shoving past, bumping me into Fred until we were pressed together. When his eyes met mine again his face dropped into that of worry. "Oh, hell, breathe, Elle, come on breathe for me. No – look at me, Elle, I'm right here. You're alright, just keep breathing for me, that's great. You're fine, Ella, absolutely wonderful."

I followed his instructions, fixing my eyes to his as I breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, less hot air – and my trembling calmed, my breathing controlled. The tightness in my chest lifted.

"That's my girl," Fred smiled, rubbing the pads of his rough thumbs on my cheeks and along my jaw, as if soothing the panic out of my skin. I loosened my hold on his shirt and rested my palms flat on his chest. "Come on, let's get to the common room."

He didn't let go as we stumbled down the stands and into the castle. His hand was firmly holding my own, and several times he had to lug me beside him from my waist when the crowd shoved us away until he veered off into a secret passageway.

We arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait moments before the other Gryffindors and seated ourselves on the plush sofa. Fred sat down at the end, pulling me in against him, but then we moved into a more comfortable position lying down, my back against Fred's front, his arms wrapped around me locked in an embrace. The embers of fire danced and flickered in the fireplace, and slowly the other students entered accompanied with noise.

My ears were deaf to it all, focusing vaguely on Fred's warmth and the image of a lifeless Cedric.

He was dead. He had died in the maze. Harry Potter, the poor little boy who led a life of misfortune, disguised as a hero, a saviour from baby years, had been with him – they arrived together. Harry knew who had done it. Was it the Blast-Ended Skrewt? I should have told him. I knew I should have said something! That damn thing had been thirsty for action, for the thrill of ripping into flesh and slowly instilling pain and death. A tremble wracked through me, and Fred responded with tightened arms and a kiss. I could only imagine Hagrid's devastation.

But Cedric did not look as if he was stung by a Blast-Ended Skrewt, nor chewed up or shredded.

Had it…had it been Harry?

No. That was an absurd thought, a horrid and insanely stupid path to cross. Harry had been obviously distressed, and a boy that age would not have known any life destroying spells.

But then what? Who?

The fire flickered, as if a harsh wind had blown past. The windows were all closed. The room was stifling. And I was sure an image surfaced in the red and gold flames. Cedric, pale and empty and dead, was still on my mind.

"Hey," George whispered, and I realised he was kneeling on the ground in front of me, but off to the side where he wasn't blocking the fireplace. "You need anything?"

The noise had died down, but the usually spacious common room was filled in every corner. Lee and the girls were sat around first and second years with some other older students, all playing the part of dutiful big House siblings with comforting arms and hushed words despite their own fright, but I was sure everyone was more confused than scared. Every available space was taken, on desk tops, the floor and the stairs. I had never seen the room look so small before. It occurred to me that Fred and I were taking up quite some space on the sofa, but I didn't care to move. My body was heavy and numb, as was my mind. Everyone had more pressing matters on their minds.

There was something about everyone in Gryffindor being in one room together that wasn't the Great Hall. Unity came to mind.

No one wanted to be alone, afraid of the mysterious monster waiting under their beds.

"Ella?"

I must have been silent for too long again. Dumbledore was watching me, waiting for my answer. Hadn't I said it yet?

I cleared my throat. "I'll Floo."

He nodded. "Are you absolutely certain? I have no worries about you taking the Hogwarts Express. I can arrange for someone to meet you at Kings Cross to take you home. It will give you some more time to be with your friends, and a delightful experience to behold. You have yet to meet the, how do the students say, trolley lady. Word is that she has a secret stash of Chocoballs that she only gifts to those she really likes."

"I'm sure, sir. I'd rather go straight home," I said, however tempting the fancy chocolate was, I was not about to compromise my journey. I just wanted to go home.

"Of course. I will be waiting for you after the students have left for Hogsmeade station, and I will have Bonny bring up your possessions for you."

"Thank you, sir."

He was staring again, that blank look that pierced through your soul and mind and sifted through all your secrets without a second thought.

"Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Ella?" he asked after a silence of deep gazing and fidgeting.

"Like what?"

"Cedric," was his quick response as he reached out a hand to stroke Fawkes, and my breath stopped short in my throat. "I understand you were rather acquainted with him."

"No," I answered quickly. "We only spoke twice. Hardly knew him."

It surprised me how easy it was to say the words even though the message hit hard. I was right – I didn't know Cedric, not really. He was a nice lad, obvious. And modest and caring and handsome. A true Hufflepuff. I had no idea of his dreams and aspirations, his likes and dislikes, any odd food combinations he enjoyed (like George who had dipped his fries into a vanilla milkshake in Ottery – yuck!), his favourite animal, favourite Quidditch team, or anything that made him who he was, what sculptured him as a person. I didn't know whether he was a morning person or not, what hand he wrote with or what position he played.

I knew nothing of this boy, and yet I had spent days forcing distractions so he wouldn't be on my mind. It was fear, my mind reasoned, not actually Cedric that fuelled me. Fear of death right before my eyes, death's victim being someone so innocent and humble and young.

In the end, it always came down to fear of the killer. The murderer.

"I see. Well then, how about your thoughts on returning home?" Dumbledore asked. He swirled his finger in a large glass dish on his desk before pulling out a sweet and offering it to me. I declined.

"What's there to worry about?" I asked just as the answer came to me.

"Your worry over Yaxley."

"Will he…do you think he'll try to find me?" my voice came out small and scared, much to my disgust. The suddenness of Cedric's death, my exams and Fred kept me occupied to the point of me forgetting about him, but I couldn't escape him forever. And even after all these years his name left me a stuttering, anxious fool. It was more than just him kicking me out of the house and using the bad curse on me that one time, but I couldn't figure out exactly what.

"There is no knowing what will happen, but with the return of Voldemort I have no doubt that Yaxley will not be hesitant in acting in any way. There is something about having a powerful leader that stirs peoples' minds and spurs them into action regardless of the consequences. It applies to both good and evil, and it is the beliefs of the leader that influences the stages of events," Dumbledore said calmly, as if he hadn't just mentioned the return of the most evil wizard ever, but the weather.

"So, there's a chance, and a rather big one at that, that I may be getting a surprise visit to my house by an evil psychopath who kicked me out of my home and now wants me back for some bizarre and unknown reason. And because his leader is sick and twisted, Yaxley will be too. So, what's the catch?"

He quirked a small smile. "Ella, I will not allow any harm to come to you. And the Weasleys are just around the corner. I'm sure the boys will be spending much of their time with you."

I had almost forgotten! I pressed my lips together to subdue a grin from taking over. That shouldn't have deterred me from my worrying – what would two seventeen year old boys do when confronted by a Death Eater?

"But what if Yaxley comes when no one is with me? How am I supposed to fight him off? He could easily do anything," I said. That man was beginning to be a bother, and nothing had yet happened. Not really.

"Ella, I assure you there is no need to worry. Everything is under control, and I will visit often. The last time I went to your house I had set up a few protective charms which should keep you safe. And you never know, an adventure may come your way." His eyes twinkled in a way that I associated with the twins.

"An adventure? Does it entail the possibility of me getting into battle? Because I still know where Nanny Anne hid her old cricket bat." The words were out before I had even thought of them, but Dumbledore smiled as if expecting my startling comment. My eyes widened, and I stuttered out an apology.

I had one last thought, one that urged my head down and my fingers to start playing with each other. "I'd like to see Bill."

"You mean…his grave?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes. I know it's in Scotland, but you could apparate me there. It's just…I never got to say goodbye."

A wrinkled old hand sat on my shoulder, and I jumped in my seat.

"I do not think it would do you much good, although, if you still wish, I will take you. But only when I say," he said. I felt angry at him for thinking such things, that Bill was just a puddle in my path instead of the father he was. He must have seen it on my face, because he squeezed my shoulder, asked me if I had anything else to discuss. I took a handful of sweets and left.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with me lately?

Lee yawned loudly, eyeing us all as he did so. When we did nothing, he yawned even louder, leaning in closer as if we hadn't seen him the first time. George glared at him. Lee rolled his eyes and focused on Fred, who threw a shoe at him when Lee attempted to poke him.

"What is up with you two?" he snapped, throwing his arms up before resting them on his hips as he stood. "You're acting like two bitchy old ladies who lost at bingo by the new tart who has fantastic, non-saggy tits."

In spite of his frustration at whatever George turned to Lee. "What's a bingo?"

"You've been like this for ages now. What's going on?"

The twins visually discussed their predicament. The common room had been empty, everyone in a mad rush to pack their things before leaving for Hogsmeade. Those who had already packed beforehand were strolling around the castle. Dumbledore's words from the feast had left a big impact, and yet not one word was said about it as soon as everyone left the Great Hall.

Hogwarts was differentiated along a spectrum, those who believed Dumbledore, and in turn Harry, and those who absolutely rejected the return of Voldemort. Anyone who dared mock the Headmaster in hearing distance of the twins were victim to humiliating pranks, and I wondered how long it would be until Fred and George snapped and upped the harshness of their attacks. It was only a matter of time. Those boys had terrible tempers and unwavering loyalty.

Finding nothing of interest to do in their aggravated state they came to the kitchen, both Weasleys stomping with frowns and Lee looking lost.

"Bagman," Fred growled out, leaning on his arms on the table. He had been playing with the burger in front of him, tearing off the bread and crushing it between his finger and thumb.

"What about that twat?" Lee asked. He had been informed of the Bagman fiasco a while ago and shared the twins' utter dislike like a true friend, as well his father being cheated by the scumbag.

"We ain't getting our money back, that's what," George said, throwing down his spoon with a mighty clang.

"He's gone," Fred groaned. "He's gone and we only have the money from the bets we made which is nowhere near what we had before. We've got a lot of saving up to do. All our plans are ruined and we have to start all over again. Fuck!"

In a matter of seconds beef, mayonnaise, salad and sauce splattered on the wall. Fred stood up, paced the kitchen and then strode into the cupboard that led to my dormitory. Lee's eyes widened. He hadn't known about that.

George was looking at me.

"I'll see you guys later," I said, following Fred after waving my goodbyes.

He wasn't pacing in my dorm as I thought he would be, or sitting on my bed. His eyes turned to me in the mirror, only for a second. He was looking at the pictures.

When I stood behind him I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Hey," I murmured, low enough to not disturb the peace.

"Wotcher," he replied, eyes gazing from one photo to the next. I didn't have many on it, but they each had friends and family dearest to me. George was in two.

"School's over."

"No shit."

I would have hit him with a witty remark if I knew he was in an acceptable mood for it. His face was expressionless. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Are you excited to be going back home? Back with your family?"

He hummed indifferently in his throat. "D'you know you need?"

"A decent answer," I mumbled. "What?"

"A good ol' spanking."

I unwound my arms and glared at him. His lips tilted in the smallest smile.

"Kidding. Although I'm more than happy to oblige. Someone needs to punish you when you're being cheeky," he winked.

"Shut up."

"You need a picture of us," he said, once again looking at the photos. "We can get one of the girls to take one on the train on the way home, Merlin knows George or Lee would drop the camera or tilt it down – the perverts. And you need a good one, what with it being with your first boyfriend and all."

"Oh. I forgot to tell you – sorry. I won't be taking the train with you guys."

His brows furrowed. "How come?"

"Dumbledore offered me the Floo. It's just easier, you know, not having to take a long journey from London to Devon, or quick but with a stranger. And this way I'd get to tell Zoe and Nate about us before you get thrown to the dogs."

But still, he frowned. "I could apparate you. I'm of age now, I can use magic outside of Hogwarts."

"I'd love for that, Fred, but you've never been to my house. It's better this way, trust me. Your parents must miss you. This way you get to spend some time with them. And you're probably sick of me hanging about all the time anyway. I just really need to be back home as soon as possible."

"I could never tire of your company. I kind of like you," he said, his hand rising to cup my face.

The comment made me want to squeal and swoon like a lovesick little girl. "I can assure you that you won't be saying the same thing this time next month. In fact, I'll bet you'll be dead annoyed of me."

He had moved closer – when had that happened? – and was pressing me up against the mirror, his left hand still on my face and the other on my waist. His right hand squeezed.

"Prove it."

His lips touched my own quickly.

"Show me how you'll make me dead annoyed by you. Because I can't seem to wrap my head around it, love."

He kissed me again, harder this time. It was the kind of kiss where my mind went blank and focused only on the kiss, the relationship of our lips and melodies of our bodies, so in tune and harmonious with the other.

"You're more of a child than a man," I said.

Fred grinned. "That makes you a paedophile. Next."

His tongue was soft and wet as it flicked mine. I giggled into his mouth as he trilled his tongue and lightly nipped at my lip.

"You're a pig. Eat like one and live like one."

"There's a word for that and I'm pretty sure it's illegal. But I'm not complaining. I have quite an aversion to rules. Carry on."

I knew the word, I had read it in a newspaper years ago, a story about a man getting caught with a horse on his farm by his wife, or perhaps it was his sister? The facts were cloudy. Fred was doing that wonderful thing with his mouth on my neck again, my brain fixed on maintaining my consistent breathing. His hands were moving everywhere, the mirror steadying me from collapsing from the rush, and I gasped at the squeeze on my bum.

"You…You're…"

What were we talking about again? I'd rather we didn't talk at all. His lips ravishing that spot on my throat – lips and tongue and wet heat and teeth – while mine were open, cold and lonely.

"Lost your thoughts? I guess I win."

The terrible horrible smirk was back in place.

"You're a fucking whore bastard."

If his expression was anything to go by Fred was just as shocked by the malice in my voice as I was, and then we laughed until we collapsed into each other and fell to the ground, leaning against the mirror side by side. He had tears in his eyes, his face a marvellous shade of red and his laughter wheezing out into breathless gasps.

"Oh, Merlin, and I thought you were the sensible one in this relationship," Fred said. He threw his arm around my shoulder, his fingers playing with my hair.

"Your stupidity is contagious. If only your older brother rubbed off on you more."

"Percy?" Fred scoffed. "If I was anything like him I'd be making you do your homework."

"School's over."

"Exactly. In fact, I probably wouldn't even have a girlfriend what with all that haughtiness and folded underwear and ironed socks."

"I meant George."

"Since when is George older than me?"

I tipped my head to the side to get a clear view of him. "Isn't he?"

"No. Did he tell you that?"

"Maybe. I mean it makes sense, he does seem calmer and more mature than you," I said, grinning at Fred's mocking face.

"You mean pussy-like?" He laughed and leaned away when I swatted his chest. "Kidding! But no, I am the older twin. I have a scar on my bum to prove it."

"That means nothing. Fred – stop!"

I gripped his hands in his lap to stop him from unbuttoning his shorts, which only resulted in him tickling me under my knees.

Somehow we found ourselves lying on the floor of my dorm, cuddled together and laughing so hard at something stupid that we were in silent fits of tears.

"Oh, I love you."

Fred swung himself up, his legs thin with only a slight definition of muscle, and strode over to my suitcase and bag on my bed. I had never noticed his legs much before, but his shorts allowed a wonderful view up to his knobbly knees.

"You finished packing?" he asked, looking through my bag and checking my bedside table and wardrobe.

"Yeah," I answered, tense and frozen, wondering if the words I heard had truly been said.

"So predictable," he said, seating himself on my bed and grinning childishly as he bounced. He let on nothing unusual.

"Fred."

"You reckon George and Lee are still out there?"

Time passed terribly fast as it always does when you least want it to. It went too fast to even think of cherishing the moments, the simple touches, warm company, hard laughs. One minute we were in my dorm, drawing on each other's arms, the next I was walking the boys to Hogsmeade station. My hand, with a life of its own mirroring my hesitance to leave Fred, tightened the closer we got to the train. He would smile at me, make a funny face, and my worry would momentarily vanish. He would smile even bigger and then kiss my face.

We embraced at the station as everyone else was jumping onto the train, and Fred laughed, assuring me that it was only a few hours until we would see each other again. It made me feel possessive and annoying, but he didn't seem to mind. I only hoped those hours went as fast as the day spent with him had.

"Don't worry about the Bagman thing. You'll be alright in the end. You're wonderful. You can do it."

I had repeated it so many times, hoping Fred would cheer up. He put a smile on his face, but it still worried him.

"I'll come and see you as soon as I can, alright troll breath?"

"God, give me a minute to breathe, would you fart brain?"

Insults were swapped in order to maintain the light atmosphere associated with leaving school for the summer. He rolled his eyes at my rubbish term, and pressed a long hard kiss on my lips. The younger students around us gagged and groaned. Fred showed them the finger.

Instead of grabbing his trunk, he flicked his wand, levitating it ahead of him and dangerously close to a few Slytherin students. I waited for him to stick his head out of a window.

"There had better be a welcoming home party for me," Fred called. George and Lee poked their heads out beside his. Both stuck their tongues out and crossed their eyes. What idiots.

"I'll have some cake and a bottle of Coke ready for you."

The train whistled, the doors closed, and the engine chugged.

"And don't forget to set the bed, darling!"

The train started moving away. Lee and George blew kisses and cried out their farewells, but my eyes were stuck on Fred, who smiled and winked until I could see him no more.

Back in Hogwarts, I stood in Dumbledore's office, a handful of Floo powder seeping through the cracks between my fingers.

I was going home.