This chapter just did not want to be written. As an apology for taking an obscene amount of time to update with no real excuse, I've made it a longer chapter.
Thank you so very, very much to all the follows/favourites and reviews. But come one guys, there are over one hundred of you following this (!) so surely a few more of you can spare a minute or two to just say 'Great' or something. Please?
An extra thank you to chocolatecheesecakes for her help with a certain aspect of this chapter. You know what it is.
Please enjoy and feel free to kick me up the arse if I take too long to update again.
Also, I'm on the lookout for a beta as I find hundreds of millions of mistakes when I read through my chapters and I would also greatly appreciate honest opinions on my ideas. Any volunteers? I'll pay you in secrets for the story!
It's 5.10am. I'm out.
32. The Calm Before the Storm
Being an adolescent female it is crucial to understand the recurrent ritual we undergo every month. Periods are unique to individuals following a general similitude in its effects on the body and hormones. Many girls undergoing the demonic event in which the soul feels as if it is being dripped out of the body through a single orifice after the initial whirlwind of clutching organs and muscles in the abdomen become accustomed to their specific routine. I find myself the anomaly of this and continue to undergo the horrific ordeal with a grimace as I lay on the sofa cuddled protectively with a hot water bottle as if it were my foetus.
My exclusive routine follows as such: before I even begin my body will tingle, sore to the touch, a premature warning. On the first day, alongside the demon pounding my uterus and bleeding me for all I'm worth, there is present a guttural pain in my bowels, back, breasts, everywhere. As such, I am utterly feeble and am rendered to spend the hours of gurgling organs motionless. From lessons in school this experience is not as rare as it sounds, however I have never met a person who hurts on the first day as much. Exercise is said to relieve some pain, but even the thought of walking from one end of the room to another has my stomach warbling. The second day would be much kinder physically, however my body would compensate by taking a toll on my hormones. The cutest child would have me in tears and the smallest insect would make my throat sore from screaming.
The rest of the tortuous days would be much calmer, having little to no effect on me, and my vagina was rested from being used as a punching bag.
Every month.
For this reason, the first two days I had avoided visiting Fred and his family in fear of acting like a complete nutter and embarrassing myself silly, and now, scrubbing the counters in my kitchen, I used it as an excuse as to my reluctance to think about my earlier encounter with Stephen. He unnerved me in ways I had never expected from a muggle, but my time away in Hogwarts had made me forget him and his reputation. Being wedged between him and the shelves of the shop, his muscles pushing through the fabric of his t-shirt reminding me of the power behind them and the countless victims they had fought with and incited blood and vomit. His eyes, hard and stormy showed only malicious intent. And for the hundredth time I still couldn't fathom why he insisted on bothering me.
The fancy dress party kept my mind occupied since arriving home from closing the shop early at noon. I had no idea what the twins were going to dress up as, and they had left no hints. I was sure to be in for a surprise.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"You guys know you don't have to knock," I yelled out, rolling my eyes at the ridiculously long knock the twins had formulated as a sort of code after Fred's stunt in front of Zoe as I made my way towards the door. "What the hell are you supposed to be?" I blurted out, laughter escaping my lips at seeing Fred and George dressed up for Carley's fancy dress party.
They weren't dressed in identical costumes as I had assumed. Fred was wearing a loose white blouse, the top few buttons left undone revealing a silver chain over tempting pale skin, the pendant hidden, full bishop sleeves billowing around his arms decorated in frilly cuffs tightened on his wrists. It was tucked into loose breeches, a red sash tightened around his waist. Dirty buckled boots adorned his feet, a fake parrot perched on his shoulder, but it was his face half covered in an eye patch and a fake bushy black beard that contrasted greatly with his shaggy red hair that amused me.
"Ahoy, me deary," Fred said, his voice coming out in a husky growl as he propped an arm up on the doorframe, the other on his hip as he looked down at me. "You's lookin' a mighty beauty. I'm here for the booty."
I stepped to the side, allowing enough room for the boys to come in, but before I could question Fred I was answered with a firm slap to my bum.
"Fred!" I shrieked, covering my stinging behind with my hands as I stared at the smirking boy.
"Aye, tis the finest pirate booty I've ever laid me eyes on. Georgie, I believe we've descended upon a mighty great trove," he nodded to his laughing twin, stroking his beard.
"Why are you talking like that?" I asked, making my way back to the kitchen. The boys were late; the party had started half an hour ago and I had left my hat in there somewhere but a brief glance over the room left me disappointed. It wasn't the first time something had seemingly disappeared in the days of my arrival, always trivial items that I assumed I mislaid. I bent over, looking under the table. "And what are you meant to be, George?"
"I thought it was rather obvious, there aren't many big grey things with a big tail and scary fin, are there?" Even without looking at him I could tell he'd rolled his eyes and shook his arse in an attempt to waggle the obnoxiously large fin. "You're not exactly dressed up, are you? Dungarees and a t-shirt. I don't think coming as yourself to a fancy dress party counts as dressing up."
"I'm a farmer girl, and I have a shirt in the other room," I answered, spinning on the spot and rubbing my head with one hand as if it would help me remember where I last left it, my other resting on my hip. I checked the hooks behind the door.
"What were you doing before we got here that's got you so jittery?" George asked, seating himself down as Fred helped himself to the contents of my cupboards and fridge.
"Cleaning," I said, making my way to the living room, checking under the cushions.
"How'd you like to scrape the barnacles of me rudder?" I heard Fred yell as I returned to the kitchen.
"Where the bloody hell did you learn all the pirate lingo?" I asked, my face fixed in a scowl as Fred grinned roguishly; it spoke of an interesting day ahead.
"He's been practising for ages," George leaned back on the chair, fidgeting at his large costume spilling over the seat, and crossed his arms behind the shark head covering his own. "When we leaving?"
"As soon as I find my hat."
"What – this crappy thing?" Fred said, holding up a straw hat and twirling it around his hand.
"What is it with you and taking random things you find?" I huffed, snatching my hat out of his hand and putting it over my braided hair. He simply grinned in return, recalling his first morning in my house when Mrs Weasley and George showed up and he had taken a jar of Nutella home. I still hadn't forgiven him for that.
"I thought I'd use it. My hair's not cooperating with me today."
"Dirty, smelly and messy, what's wrong with that? It's perfect for an addled pirate," I retorted with an upturned nose, stretching on my toes to muss his hair as he leaned back away from my hand.
"Piss off, ye blowfish!" he exclaimed, managing to grab hold of my hands against his chest. I froze impulsively and sucked in a breath, standing taller and holding my belly in; did he reference a blowfish purposefully? "Just do your magic and fix my hair. Please."
"You're the wizard," I huffed, pushing him to sit down opposite George, nevertheless combing out the knots in his hair with my fingers, tugging hard.
"Ouch! You did that on purpose."
"Maybe wash next time," I whispered loudly. I deemed his hair relatively knot free and sectioned it in three, beginning to plait it. His hair had grown even longer since Hogwarts by an inch or two, making it easier to tie up.
"Won't be a next time," George called. "Mum's threatening to chop it off, thinks Bill's style rubbing off on us too much."
I gasped before I could stop myself, and the twins chuckled. The last time I had seen George with short hair was before we were teenagers, and it had looked decent on him, but I much preferred playing with Fred's long locks when it was clean and soft, losing my hand in the red velvet. I couldn't imagine having to run my fingers through tiny spikes of hair.
I had to admit, Bill was very attractive with his long hair, but Fred pulled it off better. Bill was the more obvious type of handsome, very tall with an angular face, sharp cheekbones, small eyes under neat brows, and add to that his relative punk fashion of long smooth hair, a fang earring and a leather jacket he was a walking dream.
The twins, although far more akin to their second eldest brother Charlie in their physique, were more goofily handsome. Much of it derived from their carefree and teasing personality, visible in their long messy hair and glinting blue eyes. They were slightly shorter than Bill, but their muscles compensated for the few inches difference. Their positions as Beaters in Quidditch had greatly matured their bodies and was continuing to do so, I noticed, eyes glued to the strong neck and shoulders of Fred. My mind wandered in those few seconds over what could possibly be hidden under the loose white cotton covering his torso.
As soon as his hair was neat and tied back, a feat extended due to my reluctance to stop – who knew when I would be able to do it again? – we left for Carley's party. We received some odd looks on our walk to Imogen's house, but the twins grinned and waved without a care in the world, yelling out ridiculous greetings. It was infectious, and my paranoia of feeling eyes on me was soon forgotten. I could forget about Stephen, there was no reason to have Fred worry. It was nothing anyway, and Fred lived not too far away. We'd be back at Hogwarts in no time as well. He'd forget about me, lose interest due to my long absences from Ottery, perhaps even go to a university far away. I could only hope.
They walked ahead of me, shoving each other and laughing. I couldn't help but smile at their raw joy, especially not after all they had been through.
"Hey," I called out to them, waiting for them to turn around. They both proceeded to walk backwards facing me. "What's got you two so jolly when the last time I saw you were ready to burn Bagman alive."
Instead of the scowl that once graced their faces at the mention of Ludo Bagman they grinned.
"Freddie didn't tell you?" George asked.
"Bugger him, is all I have to say," Fred said.
"What happened?"
"Harry Potter is what happened," George said, wincing as he bumped into a lamppost.
"Care to elaborate before I'm old and grey?"
"Been there, done that, wasn't too bad. Handsome old geezers, weren't we, Gred?"
"Indeed, Forge. But I must say when you do get that old please trim your nose hairs."
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I'd have to ask them about that at one point."Guys!"
They tilted their heads with cute grins on their faces. I apologised to an old lady they almost knocked over.
"You know the winnings from the Triwizard tournament?"
"Harry didn't want it, thought it was tainted with the memory of what happened."
"And the Diggory's refused it –"
"So we are now the blessed owners of one thousand galleons!" they chorused, holding their arms out. Under any other circumstance I would have forced them around to avoid smacking someone else in the face, but my mouth fell open and my feet stopped in utter shock. Even I knew one thousand galleons to be a hell of a lot of gold.
"Come again?"
"He gave us the money," Fred said. "All of it. It was way more than what we had before the Bagman shit."
"You know what that means?" George wiggled his eyebrows. I couldn't respond.
"We're set to start progressing on the shop," Fred finished.
"That's fantastic!" I yelled, laughter full of surprise. Fred stumbled as he caught me in his arms and swung me from side to side. My legs wrapped around him and my hands supporting me on his shoulders, I leaned down and caught his lips with mine, our laughter mingling. All of his sorrow and pain from the thought of not being able to achieve his dream washed away like dead leaves in the harsh winds of autumn. In his arms I could almost feel his happiness and excitement pouring out of him. They still had a long way to go, but this was a pretty good step, all thanks to Harry Potter.
The pride engulfed me, smothering me in limitless bliss at the possibility of their dream, their wondrous shop blossoming soon. It was enchanting, the awareness of their future, seeing it bloom behind my eyelids. They deserved it.
"Oi, where's my congrats? It'll be my shop too, you know."
We separated and turned to George, arms crossed and pouting.
"Not from my girl you ain't," Fred said, kissing me on the cheek. "Not one like this at least."
I shimmied down and hugged George tightly, ignoring Fred's playful warnings about hands in decent places.
"I'm so happy for you," I whispered into George's ear. "You guy's'll be wonderful."
"We know." The smirk was evident in George's voice, followed by his hand squeezing my arse.
"George!"
"Couldn't help myself!" he shrugged, holding his hands up in defence although his grin spoke of anything but regret. And then, to my surprise, he and Fred high fived.
"Ay, no worries, lass, ye can thank me properly later in Davy Jones' Locker, I'll even show ye me urchins," Fred whispered with a wink.
The party was in full swing by the time we arrived. Kids were running wild all over the generous garden, tables under the small marquee littered with bits of food, a bouncy castle full of both children and adults and a paddling pool. The entire set up screamed temptation to the twins, a playground of mischief they could easily blame on hyped up children. Almost immediately Fred and George ran off somewhere, leaving me alone until I saw Zoe across the garden with Nate.
"I see you finally made it," Zoe said, crossing her arms as I approached them. "What delayed you, snogging your boyfriend? Do you know how many kids I've had to escort to the bathroom? God, you'd think Immy invited us to be babysitters."
"You know that's exactly why we were invited, Zo," Nate said, rolling his eyes. "Your boyfriend just shoved cake into his brother's face."
I groaned. "I've got my hands full babysitting them let alone the actual toddlers."
"Oh my God, they really are identical," Zoe gasped. Neither Nate or Zoe had seen the twins together.
"What's the grey one meant to be dressed as?"
"A shark," I answered. Zoe giggled into her glass of a no doubt spiked drink. "And you guys?"
"Peter Pan," Nate huffed, adjusting the green tights as if to emphasise his discomfort.
"Didn't you wear that to the school production of Peter Pan like, four years ago?" I asked, biting my lip to hold in my laughter as he flushed an admirable shade of red.
"How 'bout you shut it, Pippi Longstocking."
"Don't be an arse, Nate, those'll be hers and Freddie's kiddies."
I swatted them both on the arms having no verbal rebuttal.
"I was going to be Tinkerbell – remember my Halloween costume from last year? – but then I thought that would have been a tad indecent for a children's party so I opted for a butterfly."
I did remember her Tinkerbell costume and thought it a bit more than a 'tad indecent'. It had been downright tarty.
"I was wondering what the face paint was for, I thought you had a fight with you make up brushes," I said, then surveyed the garden. "Where's the birthday girl?"
"Bouncy castle," Nate answered, pointing to the inflated castle that looked on the verge of collapsing. "And I think I see mum eyeing up that bloke that's keeping it up, meaning I need another drink. See yous."
We offered half-hearted goodbyes. Zoe turned to me instantly.
"So what's the deal with Fred's costume?" she whispered.
"What d'you mean?"
"You know! He's a wizard –" she mouthed the word as if the flowers behind us would hear and inform the town of the latest gossip "– did he have to buy them or did he just magic them out of thin air? And George too? Do they use our money?"
"Zoe," I sighed. "He went with his dad to buy his costume, but yes he did change a lot of them. Remember I told you they can transfigure stuff? He did it with some of his ordinary clothes, I told you his family isn't that well off. Except the parrot. His mum knitted that."
I had yet to still meet Arthur Weasley, the muggle loving head of the Weasley's. The twins overwhelmed me at most times, their excitement prodigious, and their father seemed even more enthusiastic, impulsive even. How their mother did it, I had not a clue. The combination of Arthur Weasley, the twins and five other children made me dizzy simply from the thought of having to manage them. A new praise of respect for Molly burgeoned. It was a wonder she hadn't killed one of them already.
"Now that's adorable. How did she manage that? Oh, wait, magic. Got it. So this transfigurisationing, does it have a time limit or are his clothes going to stay like that forever?"
I laughed at her obvious entry to drunkenness. Slowly, I took the plastic up out of her hand and placed it on the adjacent table. Looking up I met someone's gaze and froze.
"Zoe," I said, hoping she wasn't too drunk to fall over and giggle madly. Thankfully, she wasn't as she caught on to my expression.
"Ella?"
"What is Stephen Casey doing here?"
"I – I don't know. I didn't think he was invited," she murmured, obviously just as shocked. He wasn't known to be friendly, not even to children.
"I doubt he is," I noted his appearance of casual jeans and a t-shirt, the same he had worn this morning. Oh, how unfortunate for me to see him again just as I was forgetting the morning's altercation. His body, so hard and hot and forceful. His breath, metallic eyes, bitter lips. A shudder ran up my spine. "Reckon I should get someone to get him away?"
Her hand gripped my arm tightly. "No. He'll go himself, it'll be worse if you get someone to go to him. Come on, let's go find your boys."
My feet followed Zoe even though my eyes didn't. He was smirking, leaning up against the side of the house. Stephen lifted his hand for a small wave, only raising a few fingers as his others clasped something before he was blocked from my vision.
"I didn't know you were familiar with Stephen," Zoe commented, eyeing me suspiciously.
"I'm not, he's just…odd."
"He's bad news, Ella, it'll do you good to stay away."
"I know that, Zo, I'm not an idiot." I wrenched my arm out of her hand. "Everyone in this town knows. So, tell me, what's your experience with him?"
"What are you on about? I have no experience with him, I just hear things from people," she said, her voice level, but she didn't meet my eyes, they were looking at everything but me.
"That's bullshit. He came up to me and Nate in the shop last year and said some things about you, none of them very nice, as you are well aware. Now, care to share?"
Looking at her frightful expression I didn't think I wanted to know, I certainly hadn't at the time he had mentioned it. It was easier to forget and live in ignorance, seeing people how you expected them to be in as much light as possible. Zoe was my best friend, the first person to reach out a hand to me in spite of rumours and bullying. She'd always held tight, never faltering in her hold or doubting. I didn't want anything ruining that, the image I had constructed of her being some sort of protector or support, like reading a beautiful poem, becoming enraptured by the imagery and metaphors and missing the dark subtext hinting at all the world's horrors.
"It's nothing, Ella, don't worry," she put on a smile. "It was stupid Stephen trying to get under Nate's skin. He hasn't bothered me for a while."
"You're lying."
Zoe nodded. She didn't even bother to cover her lie.
There was nothing to be said after that. The twins popped up behind us, refusing to reveal where they were or what they were doing, and the mood was lifted. I was left in the ignorance I so cherished. And yet, not knowing would have a consequence on me, I was just unaware as to what.
"You know, I heard so much about you when we were younger and I must say I'm so glad to see you're not the imaginary space of air I always thought you were," Zoe said once she was formally introduced to George who looked far too eager for my liking. Their attraction was thick in the air and both were flirting insanely. It was expected of them, they both had a flirtatious personality. It was just weird that it was George and Zoe.
"I'm more than happy to show you just how real I am," George winked, moving in closer to Zoe until they was hardly any space between them. She giggled.
"It was perfectly plausible, you know how our Ella is."
"Oh indeed I do, I'm just upset that she didn't let on just as to how gorgeous you are," George drawled. I gagged behind Fred's back.
"You two are just as nauseating," Zoe said.
"I beg to differ," I scoffed. Fred's arm wound around my shoulders. My eyes flew to the side of the house, only to see the bare brick wall. Looking around the garden there was no sign of Stephen. I couldn't decide whether it was a good or bad thing.
"Oh! I've got a good one, hear this," Zoe called. "What do you call a shark that can't stop singing 'U Can't Touch This'?"
The twins quirked their eyebrows but remained silent.
"An M.C Hammerhead!"
Politely, I laughed with Zoe and nudged Fred in the ribs for him to go along. The confused look shared between the twins showed their bafflement over the joke. Wizards were not well acquainted to muggle pop music.
"You get it? Hammerhead? A type of shark?"
"Yeah, yeah, 'course," George smiled along, nodding ridiculously.
"Batty landlubber," Fred mumbled into my hair. He coughed. "Me bucko, care to point me to the poop deck?"
"Do wizards have pirates?" Zoe asked quietly once Fred had run off to the bathroom.
"Not that I know of," George said. "There should be a good market for that, in fact. Think of any good pirate pranks we could work on?"
I shrugged and once again found my eyes roaming, ignoring the onslaught of magical parrot and eye patch pranks that zoomed into mind. This time George caught on as well as Zoe.
"Missing Fred already?" he teased.
I picked up a cup of juice from the table and took a sip which I almost spat out when Zoe opened her mouth.
"Still looking for Steph-"
"YEP! Missing Fred loads. George, you seen Nate? How about you go and find him? I need to discuss the timetable for work for the next week with him."
He didn't look the least bit convinced at my lame excuse, not that I could blame him, and I groaned internally, knowing that in order for him to leave I'd have to embarrass him (and myself) in the only infallible way a girl could scare off a guy without him questioning anything.
"I need to ask Zoe something about periods."
As soon as the words had left me George was off running to the farthest side of the garden well out of ear shot.
"What the hell was that?"
"I don't want them to know, not just yet," I admitted, tugging on a plait. "I will eventually, they just have a lot on their minds right now. I don't want to bother them," I added on hastily as she focused a glare on me.
"Ella, if Stephen Casey is involved they have a right to know."
"Can we not talk about him? Please. Oh, it looks like Immy's getting the birthday cake ready, let's go."
Zoe's tendency to badger people for information laid dormant as she silently nodded, rolling her eyes when I paused her again.
"Wait, I have something I need to ask." I bit my lip and lowered my eyes, feeling foolish for even thinking about it.
"What's wrong?"
"Am I…do I look…have I gotten fatter?"
Her concern vanished and she grinned, noticeably trying not to laugh in my face.
"What makes you assume that?"
"I know I've been pigging out recently and it's so stupid, I know, I'm never like this but Fred made a comment earlier and –"
"Fred? What did he say?"
I would have found her murderous gaze amusing were it not for my need to hear a response.
"Nothing important, it was a joke. But really, have I gained weight?"
She rested her hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek before bringing me into her arms for a painful hug, her wing batting me in the face.
"Definitely not fat. You're perfect. Honestly, what have you been eating? I'd die for hips like these?" Exaggerating her adoration of my body she squeezed my hips and I laughed, glad to finally have my fear alleviated even if it was a biased answer and not at all true.
"Honest?"
Zoe took my free hand and swung it. "Honest. You idiot. Now come on, I'm going to need a lot of cake."
Before I took even three steps hot air blew over my face alongside whispered words that made me jump.
"You're drinking a Salty Dog? How'd you like to try the real thing?"
"Fred!"
He chuckled and followed me to the guests surrounding the yellow cake where Immy was lighting up candles. It was shaped as a giant flower, a fondant bee sitting on one petal and surrounded by tiny fairy cakes.
"You're jumpy," he noted.
"And you're crude."
"It's part of the charm."
I snorted. "What charm?"
He pinched my waist. "Cheeky."
A whistle rang through the air, calling the attention of all the children. Only a few jumped out of the bouncy castle and paddling pool. Shrieks poured out from the remaining children in the paddling pool as they shoved each other to run out, their expressions full of fear instead of excitement over cake. Peering over the heads before me, I saw something poking out of the water.
"Is that…?" I trailed off, squinting through the sun that had emerged after the morning's chill.
Fred's chuckles vibrated against my back. "Aye."
"Oh, crap."
A child no older than four stumbled against the side of the paddling pool and toppled over, landing face first into the grass. He began wailing, and a sheepish looking George emerged from the shallow water, offering a small smile in the face of many angry parents.
"I left it at the bottom of my bed, I always leave it there," I huffed, pulling out my drawers and rifling through my articles of clothing.
"Maybe you put it in the wash?" Fred suggested, throwing his knitted parrot in the air and flicking his wand at it, making it fly in loops.
"It was clean, I'd only just taken it out."
For the past twenty minutes I had been searching for my pyjama bottoms. It was routine for me to put out my pyjamas on my bed hours beforehand, just in case I was too tired to pull something out of my wardrobe at night. Fred had apparated into my room not long ago already dressed in his, making his intentions to stay the night clear. Apprehension slithered through me at sleeping in the same bed with him in my condition, so I used my lack of pyjamas as something of an excuse to delay following him into my bed. I wasn't about to mention the disappearance of my knickers alongside my pyjama pants any time soon.
"Maybe you didn't get it out. Your top was there, after all," he said, flying his parrot around my head.
"Maybe," I sighed. A crack of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of lightening that lit up the dim bedroom. Bloody British weather.
Fred sat up, the parrot falling to the ground with a squeak. "I'm bored."
"So?"
"How about we have a fight?" he suggested with a smirk.
"What? Why would we do that?" I frowned.
"Because they're fun. Here. I'll start. You look like you just got drowned in a pond."
"Is this how you keep yourself amused? I'm not in the mood."
"Rat."
My teeth dug into my bottom lip, refusing to admonish him again. If he was going to be childish, then so be it.
"Aw, come on, it's not fun when you don't retaliate," he whined, pouting. It was gone in a flash, and he smirked. "How's about a quick shag? Or are you too ashamed to be with me? What is it, I'm the one on the side and you're secretly banging some other guy? Who is it - Nate?"
I pursed my lips to stop the grin from taking over. He wasn't very good at instigating a fight, not when it was in jest.
"Your food made me shit a bucket. Honestly, it was the foulest thing ever. It looked worse than your face, and that's saying something. But it wasn't as big as you, not at all."
"Fred, stop it," I ground out, knowing not to take his comments to heart but being unable to resist. He knew just what would make me burst without going over the top. It was the second time he had mentioned my weight in one day. I could almost feel my stomach bulging out from his words.
"What? Talking about how cuddly you are?" he grinned. "It's like sleeping with a bear, only without all the fur. Your hair more than makes up for it though."
I inhaled deeply. No way was he going to get the better of me. "You're rubbish at starting fights."
"Well I don't want you mad enough to murder me, now, do I?" he rolled his eyes melodramatically.
"Does your mum know you're staying the night?" I questioned, feeling a small spark of triumph at his sudden nervousness.
"Kind of?"
"I'm going to go and wash up and then get some new pants."
"Okay," he yelled as I left the room. "Don't be too long, darling!"
The floor was cold under my feet, the air hot and sticky. It was terribly humid but I had made sure to close and lock all the windows except the one in my room, knowing I wouldn't get any sleep without it open. Why had he suddenly declared his want for a fight? Perhaps I was looking too much into it, but he had said he was bored, so it must have been some sort of indicator of what's to come. We'd have quiet, boring moments, of course we would, everyone did. Would he want a fight during all those times? And how far would he go to get a reaction?
Stupid Squib. Would he go so far as to insult my blood?
No, I couldn't even think that. He was Fred. Beautiful, wonderful, funny Fred. During the months we had been dating he hadn't uttered a single negative thing about me or my blood. He'd approached the opposite side of the spectrum from our first few interactions in Hogwarts, he defended me and didn't judge, never afraid to face others if they so much as muttered a profanity.
After quickly brushing my teeth, I stalled for some more time and decided to get a glass of water.
The house was rather scary at night in the dark, and the rain and lightning only added to the suspenseful atmosphere. I flicked on the kitchen light and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Fred's voice could be heard singing an odd song, something about hippogriffs, loud and out of tune. I gulped down a glass and refilled it quickly. Already my neck became slick with sweat from the heat in the kitchen.
"You having grub?" Fred yelled.
"No, water. Want some?"
"Sure."
Filling up another glass, I relished in the cool condensation it brought to my hands. A loud bang made me jump and water jostle out of the glasses. It was lucky I hadn't dropped them altogether, seeing the window in the kitchen swing in and then back out, slamming into the wall. I heaved a sigh, noting to myself to make sure to check all the windows properly next time. I must have been seriously tired when I got home.
Once shut, I went to get the glasses again, but this time the door swung out from the force of the wind, allowing it to blow in with the harsh rain. Fighting against the gale I pulled the door back in.
Something ran over my foot. I screamed, letting go of door. Scrambling backwards, my back came into contact with the counter, and I felt the change in the air before hearing the smashing of several glasses around me. The roaring storm cheered loudly and danced faster.
"Ella?" I heard Fred rushing down the stairs. His hands found my arms and he assessed me from head to toe. "What's wrong? What happened?" He easily cleared the glass and checked my exposed skin for any nicks.
"Something came in, it hit my foot, it's inside."
"What? What was it?" he asked, looking around the kitchen. I was too busy trying to control my breathing to respond my uncertainty. He looked up at me from his crouched position by the dining table. "It wouldn't have happened to feel like a cat, would it?"
I frowned, and looking under the table, saw the annoying green eyes of Zoe's cat. Upon seeing me the damn thing hissed and backed further away from me.
"It's just a cat. Poor thing must be terrified of the storm." He reached a hand out and whistled to Kiwi, cooing as it stroked its head against his head.
The silhouette of a tree shadowed over us as more lightning flashed.
"It felt as if…"
"What?" Fred asked, eyes fixed on Kiwi.
"I could have sworn I locked that door. And the window."
"You probably thought you did, it happens all the time," Fred reasoned, then stood to his full height. "I say let it kip here for the night."
"She's been here before," I said, more to myself than Fred as Zoe's words came to mind of her finding Kiwi inside. She had said 'again'. How many times had her cat somehow found a way into my house? And how?
"Elle, you're tired. Bed. Now." Fred locked the garden door and held my hand, pulling me back up the stairs.
"I could have sworn there was someone out there," I said, once nestled in Fred's arms in bed.
"It's the storm, it's messing with you," he murmured, pressing his lips to my ear. "You have a lot to be worried about, I know, but Dumbledore protected this house. You're safe here. It's just the storm."
That was it. It was just the storm.