December 25th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

It is Christmas today. For the first time ever, I am spending the holiday completely alone.

Dorothy's father managed to finally save up enough money to pay her fees and she was released two nights ago. Normally, someone would be overjoyed to be released from this place, and I think she was in some way. But that did not stop her from screaming and crying for me, her arms reaching out towards my cell, her fingers opening and closing as she shrieked and as the guard pulled her down the corridor.

With every scream, my heart broke a little bit more. My chest ached and tears dripped down my cheeks as I watched through the small, barred window in my cell door.

Even though I know she is safer now than she was here in prison, I still worry. I worry about what this whole ordeal has done to her. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. Mostly mentally. She has been through so much trauma in the past eight or nine months. For someone so young and still so new to the world, I worry immensely about what all of this could have done to her mind. And if I do not get to speak to her soon, I worry it will only get worse. To the point that the damage is irreparable. That is, if it is not already at that point.

I also worry about her well being. She still does not have a house or food. And whatever money her father did manage to scrounge up went to her prison fees. She is just as penniless as before. And now I am left with nothing of my own as well. It is going to be a lot harder to do anything for her now. She needed help beyond what her father could give her, but I also fear the help she needed could be beyond my own limits.

Although, I am hoping that I can manage to sneak out from Judge Hathorne's house at any free chance I get-under a disguise, of course, and go find her. For her sake, and for mine. If my fears were correct, she would try to squelch any magic within her that tried to present itself. She would do it out of fear. She knew that magic had gotten her mother taken away. She knew magic had landed her in prison. She is a child and has not learned any sort of control yet. She will go about it all the wrong way and it could be dangerous. I have to try and help her before it gets to that point. Before she winds up hurting herself or someone else. Because I had promised her mother I would look out for her. I promised. I have lost so much already. I cannot lose the few things I still have left.

February 17th, 1693. Salem, Massachusetts.

It has been an unbelievable last few weeks. I went into labor a little over two weeks ago and I am still alive. I survived the labor and in addition, I was never taken to be executed. I am alive and so is my son, who I have named John, after my dear husband. To be honest, I hesitated at first to give him this name. After all, it is the same name as the magistrate who questioned me, examined me, and who I am now serving for the rest of my life. Why would I want my son to share a name with someone like that? But it is still the name of his father and of my husband, who I am missing more than ever these last few weeks. I felt I needed to keep his memory alive in some way, even if it is by passing his name to my son.

Besides, Judge Hathorne did give me a chance. He did take me up on my offer. My life from now on will not be wonderful by any means, but I am alive and I do not have to be separated from my child.

He was born on the 29th of January, 1693, at just around three in the morning. I gave birth to him in the cell at the jail. Part of me almost could not believe the doctor was sent for to help deliver the baby. I was almost expecting to be left to do it on my own. I do not remember very much. It is all such a whirlwind. I remember screaming and I remember the pain. I would say I was almost delirious with pain and exhaustion. I think I even called out for my husband a few times, either not remembering or not caring that he is gone. And then I remember holding my son in my arms, trying to keep my exhausted eyes open long enough to look at his face, his round, dark eyes, his tiny fingers and toes.

The next night, I was snuck out to Judge Hathorne's house. No one knows I am here. They are all to believe I was executed and any time I leave the house, I must be in disguise. Although, I most likely will not be leaving any time soon. I have to recover first and then I will start my duties helping out around the house.

I have a fairly small and bland living space in the basement, where the servant's quarters are. A lumpy bed with threadbare blankets. But it still seems almost lavish compared to the size of my cell at the jail. For instance, I still have only one window, but it is bigger than the one in the jail. It lets in more light. I honestly cannot even begin to express how glad I was to leave cell three hundred and twenty seven for good. Of course, I am still not living the life I had always imagined for myself, not by any means, but I am trying to count my blessings.

I had to admit, I'd been a little surprised at first when Rachel suggested going on a boat ride. We'd stopped back at the hotel for a bit and while in the girls' bathroom just off the main lobby, Rachel had apparently overheard two girls talking about this boat ride. Naturally, she'd asked them about it and then mentioned it to the rest of us when she returned to the lobby where we'd been waiting for her.

"What's the catch?" I asked slowly.

"Why does there have to be a catch?" Rachel asked, flopping down onto one of the lobby's couches. "I'm offended that you even think there's a catch."

"Because I kind of know you by now," I said. "You said you wanted to do something fun, and I don't think you'd find a regular old boat ride fun."

"None of us would," Fred snorted. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. When he saw my expression he laughed. "Okay, you're right," he said. "You would. I know you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It's just more your style," he said. "Something quiet, scenic, you know..."

I shrugged. "I mean, you aren't wrong. But come on, Fred. I've been going out with Rachel, Kayla and Allie for a while now. You were even there for a few of those times."

"You're right, you've become a lot more open and flexible since we've met you," Rachel said, standing up from the couch and beaming at me. "Which is why I know you'll go along for this boat ride, which does just so happen to include dinner, drinks, music and dancing." She beamed wider as I groaned.

"Rach, it's basically The Three Broomsticks on a boat and with non-magical people."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, "it's on a boat. We've got to change it up somehow."

"There are more things to do for fun than go somewhere to drink alcohol and dance."

"Of course there are. I just happen to like drinking and dancing!" She smiled and nudged me. "And I refuse to be shamed for it. Come on, you know I've never pushed my limits. I do it enough to let loose and have fun, but I've never been unsafe. If you know me like you say you know me, then you'll realize it's true."

"It is true," I muttered, crossing my arms and digging my toe into the carpet.

"Okay, if you come on this boat ride tonight," Rachel said, "you can pick the next fun thing we do! And I'll participate wholeheartedly!"

I looked up at her wryly. "You mean you're planning on having more fun on this trip?"

"Sophie," she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "No offense, but the history of this town is full of misery. Your history and the town's history. I need to do all I can to stop thinking about those court statements we read in the stones at the memorial, okay? That was seriously such a downer."

I actually laughed. "You're right. I agree with you on that."

"Okay, then it's settled!" Rachel said, clapping her hands excitedly. But then her eyes went wide. "But what will we wear!"

"I'll just wear what I'm wearing," I said, looking down at my jeans and sweatshirt. I should have known Rachel was not going to take that as an answer because she shot me a look.

"Sophie, this is not a jeans and a sweatshirt kind of thing."

"How would you know?" I asked.

"How would you?" she retaliated. "Come on, have you really hated all the times I've helped you pick outfits and done your hair and makeup?" she asked. "Do you really think that I've done a horrid job?"

"No, of course not," I said. "You've done fine."

"Better than fine, I would say," she argued. She rounded on the twins. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"If I say yes, will that keep me on your good side?" George asked in amusement.

"Yes," Rachel answered.

"Then, yes, I agree," he said as Rachel nodded in satisfaction and I rolled my eyes.

"I did such a good job, in fact," Rachel told me, "that I won that bet, remember? That Noah would think you-" she stopped when she saw a flicker of pain cross my face at Noah's name. "I know," she whispered. "It's still a little weird to talk about him so easily."

"Yeah," I muttered.

"Well," Rachel said, clearing her throat. "In any case, you need to get back out there. Try again on the dating front."

"Rachel, I-"

"Don't say you have no interest in dating because you dated Noah," Rachel argued.

"I'm not going to date some random guy I may meet on a boat in Salem, either," I said. "I'm not even currently living here anymore. I'm not interested in dating someone from here at all." I widened my eyes and sent rachel a knowing look. She knew I had feelings for Fred and had told me herself not to give up on him, so why was she using this boat ride on Salem as a way to encourage me to date?"

"I didn't say you should seriously dare someone here," she said. "I mostly think you should use tonight to put yourself out there and have some fun. Casually flirt a little bit if you see someone you like. You know? But if you go and sit in the corner and try to look invisible, then no one will even know you're there."

"Rachel, don't push her," Fred said quietly. "She's fine the way she is."

"Why don't you stay out of this?" Rachel snapped. She paused. "You're a guy, aren't you? Tell me, would you notice a girl if she was sitting in the corner, not making eye contact, hardly speaking, and wearing an old sweatshirt and jeans?" She plowed on without letting Fred answer. "Actually, don't answer that because I know you wouldn't. Look at the girls you go for! Angelina was your only serious relationship, but I know before her, you had a crush on Alexis O'Brien. She was in my classes and her personality was very similar to Angelina. Outgoing, extremely confident, athletic..."

"So what?" Fred asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to Rachel.

"I'm just saying that you have a type, Fred."

What the hell was Rachel doing? Was she trying to get Fred to admit that he'd never fall for me? Was this another way of her protecting me from getting hurt? I didn't understand it. Half the time she seemed to encourage me to be with Fred, and the other half, she was advising me against it. Unless she only ever wanted me to meaninglessly flirt with him without any feelings being involved. But I didn't want that. Not with Fred.

I backed over to the couch and sat down as I felt my heart sink. I knew why it did, of course, but I pushed the thoughts and feelings away the best I could. I reminded myself that I really wasn't here to date or fall in love. Not now. It had happened with Noah, but I'd slacked off and let my guard down. I'd let myself get caught up in things that I shouldn't have gotten caught up in and things had happened out of my control. This time I wanted to control it because when I'd let myself feel something for Noah, even though it had felt good, it had only ended very, very badly. I had much bigger things to worry about. Although, I was doing a shitty job of controlling it with everything going on with Fred.

"That doesn't mean anything," Fred said to Rachel now. "Being attracted to two girls that are similar doesn't mean they're the only kind of girls I'd go for. I'm not that close-minded. And it doesn't mean I wouldn't notice or care about someone like Sophie because I've already done both!"

"Yeah, as a friend," Rachel snorted. "And I even had my doubts about that for a bit, believe me."

"You're wrong," Fred said, shaking his head.

"About what?" Rachel asked. "Am I wrong that you consider her a friend?"

"No, of course I consider her a friend," Fred said. He took in a breath and glanced at me. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then stopped and shook his head. "I'm just one guy. It doesn't mean nobody would ever notice Sophie or take interest because Noah did. And you, Kayla and Allie took interest in her as friends. Tom and Martha took enough interest to take her into their home. My family took enough interest in her to welcome her to the Burrow for dinner on many occasions. She's invited to my sister's wedding!"

"I am?" I asked, my head snapping up.

Fred half-smiled as he glanced at me. "Yeah. Invitations haven't gone out yet, but Ginny's finished the guest list and you're on it."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Oh," I said.

Fred let out a quiet breath of laughter. "Yeah...oh," he chuckled. "Anyway, my point is that we all liked Sophie despite how she dressed or how much make-up she wears and even despite the fact that she barely spoke at first. There's more to her-to everyone than what they look like or how loud or quiet they are. People aren't one-dimensional."

Rachel sighed and sat next to me on the couch. She looked at me thoughtfully. "I guess I just...don't want you to be invisible. I want people to notice you because I think you're really great and I know you've had trouble with making friends..."

"You don't have to find me friends," I said quietly. "And I don't want you to feel bad for me."

"That's not it," Rachel said. "Like I said, I like you. I'm already your friend. And I guess I kind of want to...show you off. You don't see your self worth and I want you to! I think what I'm truly trying to do is help you realize that just because people didn't treat you right before, doesn't mean you're a lost cause. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. People like you. And not all people are bad. You just have to give them a chance. And if they're not nice to you after that, then you can tell them to bugger off."

I smiled. "I can give people a chance wearing jeans and a sweatshirt," I said. "I don't need to be dressed up or anything for people to like me either."

Rachel laughed and let out a groan. "Fine, fair enough."

"I'll compromise," I said. "I'll change out of the sweatshirt, but keep the jeans."

Rachel gazed down at the jeans I was wearing. "Deal," she said. "But...at least take your hair down."

I reached up and pulled my hair out of its ponytail, letting it tumble down over my shoulders. "Better?"

"Much better," Rachel said. "I, however, need something to wear, so...shopping?"

I looked up at the twins, who looked as if they were on the verge of laughter. I smiled before turning to Rachel. "I'll go change my shirt and then you can lead the way."

"Great!" Rachel said excitedly, instantly back to her bubbly self. She gestured to the elevators. "Go on, hurry it up! We've got a boat to catch."

Twenty minutes later, I had changed my shirt and the four of us had made it to a little clothing boutique in town. Rachel was completely in her element, buzzing around the store in an almost frenzied fashion that I'd come to expect from her every time she was near clothes.

Knowing it was best to leave her to it until she asked for my input, I busied myself with looking at the jewelry display, my mind wandering to the last time I'd done this while shopping with Rachel-it had been the first time I'd seen the Mystery Woman and the day she'd slipped me the necklace.

"Is this what she's always like when she's shopping?"

I looked up to see Fred appearing beside me, leaning backwards against the jewelry table and crossing his arms as he watched Rachel breeze around the shop. I glanced back at her myself, watching her fish a shirt off a shelf with her free hand and add it to the pile growing in her opposite arm.

"Mhm," I said, turning back to the jewelry display. I fiddled with a bracelet, looking at it but not really seeing it. When I looked back up at Fred, he was still watching Rachel, almost in amazement.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like it," he muttered.

"You know, she kind of fits your type," I said, nudging him jokingly as I tried to smile. It came across fleeting, though.

"My what?" Fred asked, finally looking down at me in surprise.

"Your type," I said, turning around and leaning against the table, too. "You know-confident, outgoing, lots of personality..."

Fred scoffed. "I don't have a type."

"Sounds like you do," I said.

"According to Rachel?" Fred snorted. "Don't listen to her. She listed two girls I've had feelings for that were similar in personality. But I barely spoke to Rachel in school. She definitely did not and does not know all of the girls I've ever been attracted to." He paused. "Why do you care so much anyway?"

"No reason," I said hurriedly.

Fred studied me for a moment. "You know, she does care about you and she's showing it in her own way, but you were right when you said you don't need to dress up for people to like you. The first rule of making friends is being yourself. It's a cliché, but it's true. You don't have to dress or act a certain way if it makes you uncomfortable. People will still like you. You've still made friends. So, you don't have to be like Rachel, or Angelina, or-"

"Or Alexis O'Brien?" I asked with a smile.

"Or Alexis O'Brien," Fred repeated with a laugh. "You're doing just fine on your own, Soph."

"Yeah, I suppose I am," I said quietly, glancing over at him. "I just wish..."

"You wish what?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows.

"That I didn't keep trying to talk myself out of relationships-for logical reasons, or safety reasons. Because relationships are what I want. But I'm terrified of getting hurt. Whether it's by them hurting me or Eric hurting them, which will in turn hurt me."

"Don't you think denying yourself any kind of love or affection will hurt you more in the long run?" Fred asked.

I was quiet as I thought that over. "I suppose so," I finally said.

"You can't do that to yourself, Soph," Fred went on. "You can't just label yourself as toxic and cut yourself off from people completely. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to the good people you have in your life who want to be a part of it. You're completely at liberty to cut off harmful people-Eric for example. Cut him off like the load of dead weight he is. But the rest of us really care about you and I'd like to think we've treated you well enough to deserve a permanent spot in your life."

"You have," I said earnestly. "All of you. It means more to me than you'll ever know. But it's also not easy for me..."

Fred nodded. "I know." We stood there in silence for a bit before Fred spoke again. "Oh, by the way..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something familiar. It was a bracelet like the one he'd had made for himself and the rest of his family. The one made out of colored rope with a fake Galleon in the middle. The same bracelet they all used for protection. But it wasn't his bracelet. His was maroon and gold-Gryffindor colors. But this one was purple and silver.

"Fred, is that-"

"For you," he said with a smile. "I made you one. The same day we got into that fight, actually. After you'd thrown mine back at me." He snorted with laughter.

I stared down at the bracelet, completely speechless.

"Hold out your wrist," Fred instructed, unclasping the bracelet as I lifted my arm, the underside of my wrist held out towards him. He gently fastened the bracelet around it and I turned my wrist over so that the Galleon side of the bracelet was now facing up.

"I don't know what to say," I whispered. "Besides thank you. You didn't have to do this."

"I did," he answered.

"You even remembered that purple is my favorite color," I said with a slight smile.

Fred nodded. "I linked it to mine and George's, so if something ever happens, we'll be able to come find you."

I smiled slightly. "Thanks. For making this, and for including me. It means a lot."

"Of course," Fred whispered. "I told you I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, and I meant it."

I looked up and met his eyes as my chest constricted slightly with emotion-mainly gratitude and affection. But most terrifying of all was that I suddenly found myself really wanting to kiss him. I was standing close enough to him. All I had to do was stretch up on my tiptoes and do it. But I also knew how complicated that would make things. My future was uncertain and I couldn't let myself break his heart if anything happened to me. But that was assuming that Fred even felt any kind of feelings for me at all. I reminded myself that it was still likely he was harboring feelings for Angelina.

Maybe that was why Rachel had tried to guide me away from him now. So I wouldn't fall for Fred even harder and get even more hurt by his feelings for his ex. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't just stop liking him.

"Soph," Fred whispered. "I have to tell you something..."

Just then, George appeared suddenly at my side, causing me to jump. Fred took a step back from me and ran a hand through his hair.

"Rachel wants you," George said to me. "She needs your opinion on her outfit."

I blinked and looked over at George. "Of course she does," I said with a slight laugh." I looked back at Fred. "I'll be back."

Fred nodded, but he was looking slightly off kilter himself-as if George's appearance had snapped him out of a trance and he was now confused and discombobulated. His ears were slightly red and I noticed him rub the back of his neck. I tried not to feel mortified as I left to find Rachel. Was it possible Fred had been able to tell what I'd wanted just from my expression? Was it possible that he'd known I wanted to kiss him and now he was faced with the issue of how to let me down easy?

I didn't think that was possible. I didn't think I'd been looking at him with that much of a lovesick expression. But then again-what did I know?

By half past seven that night, we were on the boat, sailing along the coastline. The boat had an upper deck and a lower deck. There was a live band and a bar, just like Rachel had said.

"Kayla and Allie would love this," Rachel commented, taking a sip of the drink she'd ordered.

She and I were leaning against the railing on the side of the boat, waiting for Fred and George, who were ordering their own drinks. I'd opted out completely for now, perfectly fine to pace myself.

"It is actually pretty cool," I admitted, looking around the boat. There was a good amount of people on board, but it wasn't overcrowded. It was a little noisy, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to at this point.

"What do you think of the bartender?" Rachel asked, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the guy serving drinks. He looked about our age and he was tall with sandy colored hair that was perfectly messy-almost as if he'd done it that way on purpose. He had a large smile and perfectly straight, white teeth that I could see from where I was standing.

"He's got great teeth," I found myself saying.

Rachel let out a hoot of laughter. "Great teeth? Are you kidding me, Soph? I'm too busy looking at his eyes." She paused and looked at me. "They're green, by the way. I noticed when I was ordering my drink. I couldn't look away from them."

"Okay," I said, unsure of what she wanted me to say to that.

"I'm just a sucker for any eye color that's not the same as my own drab brown."

"Brown isn't drab," I reassured her.

"Easy for you to say with your..." she trailed off and gestured at my face, "ice eyes."

"Ice eyes?" I laughed. "Really?"

Just then Fred and George appeared beside us. "Are you two talking about how dashingly beautiful our eyes are?" Fred asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not yours," Rachel said with a scoff. "Sophie's. And also his." She gestured towards the bartender

"Nick?" George asked in surprise, gesturing over his shoulder towards the bar.

"You got his name?" Rachel asked.

"Well, yeah," George said as if it were normal.

"Rach, why don't you just go talk to him yourself?" I suggested. "It's not like you to be shy."

"I didn't want to leave you guys," Rachel said quietly, looking back at us. "We all came here together and we have to actually stick together."

"Go," I said with a smile. "We'll still be close by. We're on a boat and can't really go far unless we plan on swimming. Just go enjoy yourself." I shrugged. "That's what you wanted to do, isn't it?"

"Soph," she said quietly, "I don't mean to make it seem like I don't want to do what we came here to do. I know why we're here."

I smiled. "I know," I said. "And I appreciate you being here more than you realize. You didn't have to do this, so go." I gestured to Nick the bartender. "Enjoy yourself a little bit."

Rachel smiled and threw her arms around me. "You're the greatest," she said before letting me go and winding her way through the crowd to the bar.

"What about you?" Fred asked, taking Rachel's spot beside me and leaning against the boat railing. "See anyone here you like?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around, facing the water that was dark and inky now that the sun had gone down.

"Come on," Fred chuckled. "I saw that eye roll."

"It's not what I'm here to do," I told him, frowning and glancing over at him.

"You just told Rachel to go flirt her heart out," Fred pointed out. "And we're all here for the same reason you are. None of us came here specifically for romance."

I shrugged. "We're here because of me and my issues," I said. "I'm the one with all the problems to worry about."

"I wish you'd stop acting like that," Fred told me, taking a long sip of his drink.

As soon as the tension started to shift, George cleared his throat and excused himself to 'go see about some food', leaving me and Fred standing there alone, which annoyed me just slightly that he would ditch us instead of intervening, but I was too preoccupied with Fred's comment to worry about George at the moment. He was a pretty good mediator usually, but right now I wanted someone who was completely on my side and would back me up one hundred percent. Someone who understood where I was coming from. But I wasn't sure there was anyone who completely understood.

"Acting like what?" I asked Fred, turning my head fully to glare at him.

"Acting like you're the only one who's ever had problems," he said, meeting my eyes stonily as he took another sip of his drink. "I mean, have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

"I never said I was the only one with problems!" I hissed, pushing away from the railing and facing him. "How dare you even put words in my mouth!"

"Well," Fred shrugged, "you did just say you were the one with all the problems to worry about."

"Currently!" I exclaimed. "Didn't you just say none of you were here for romance? Meaning that you are aware of what we're all doing here. We're trying to solve my problem."

"You letting us come here to help you is huge," Fred told me. "I was glad that you actually let us come and help you instead of trying to do it alone like you were so set on doing at first. But you keep making comments about how you're the one with the problems to worry about as if you're in this completely on your own. You're not the only one worrying, you know."

"What are you saying?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "That you worry about Eric coming after me?"

"Of course," Fred whispered in exasperation. He swallowed and met my eyes as he lowered his voice. "It is not an outrageous concept to have someone care about you," he said. "It may have felt like it in the past and up until recently, but Soph, we all care. I don't know how else to prove it to you besides wringing Eric's neck myself, which believe me, I will do if we ever find him." He shook his head. "We've all had our fair share of issues," he went on. "And I've done my fair share of pushing people away, but that didn't turn out so well for me, did it?"

I shook my head, my eyes brimming with tears. I blinked and felt the tears start dripping down my face.

Fred reached out with his free hand and wiped his thumb across my left cheek, then my right one, sloppily wiping the tears away the best he could.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm glad you're here. But all I can think about is going back to the way my life was before. All I can think of is Eric winning this fight. All I can think of is possibly never being able to see you or George, or Rachel or anyone again. I'm scared of being trapped here for good. I'm scared something bad will happen to you in the process. I'm just scared. I'm so scared. So scared that I can't possibly even think of anything else."

Fred didn't answer. Instead, he set his drink down on the railing and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me tightly as I rested my cheek on his chest and wrapped my arms around him in return.

"I know," Fred said quietly. "I'm scared too."

"Of what?" I asked, gazing out at the water.

"I'm scared of losing you," he whispered.

I was quiet as I tried to process that in my head. Eventually, I pulled my head away from his chest and peered up at him. "You are?"

Fred nodded. "I don't think I can live through losing another person I care about so much." When I bit my lip, he sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. "And, no, that does not mean I'm only working so hard to protect you because of Percy or in an attempt to keep myself sane. It's not that complicated." He smiled down at me affectionately. "It just means exactly what I said. I can't handle not having you around."

I stared back up at him, unsure of what to say. I'd never thought it had mattered before, whether I existed or not, because for so long it had been just me. And it's not like I got all the love and affection I'd needed in my foster homes. There were times when I was on the run from Eric that I'd realized that something could happen to me and nobody would bat an eye.

"Did I ever tell you that I used to have my own methods of tempting fate?" I asked suddenly, pulling away from Fred and leaning my elbows on the boat railing again, staring down into the water. "Not exactly to the extent of how you would hold your breath in the pond, but similar."

"No, you've never mentioned that," Fred said in surprise. "You've mentioned you sometimes thought it didn't matter if you lived or died, but not that you actually went and tried to do anything about it."

"Well I did," I said. "Sort of. There was one time-the first time I ever did something like that, actually-when I was at Niagara Falls. The side that's technically in America, but I was on my way to Canada, so..." I trailed off and shook my head. That part wasn't exactly relevant. "There's this area down near the bottom of one section of the falls that's a bunch of wooden walkways. It gets you pretty close to the bottom and you get soaked just standing there. I went in the middle of the night and stood on the bottom rung of the red fence that separated me from the water. I thought to myself: you know, you could climb over this fence, jump into the water and drown and not a single soul would notice or care. That's how utterly alone I was. My own thoughts were practically drowning me, so I thought it wouldn't make a difference if I actually drowned. It was all too much, knowing that I had nobody who cared and that I could die or completely vanish and I wouldn't be missed." I swallowed and looked up at Fred. "Do you know what it feels like to actually be that alone?"

"No," Fred whispered hoarsely. "There have been times when I've felt alone, or felt so misunderstood-obviously. But I knew I wasn't really, truly, physically alone. I've never had to go through that. I knew people would miss me if I was gone, but all those times I was so destructive to myself and to the flat which I worked so hard to buy, I never once thought about it. Not until my mother said something. Which, as you know, made me feel even worse about my recklessness."

I shrugged. "I hated that I was like that, too. I would look down into that water, or over the edge of a cliff, and I wouldn't feel like it mattered if I lived or died. I'd think that if I jumped, it wouldn't matter. I had nothing, I was miserable and beaten up and exhausted so what was the point? But a part of me kept wondering what if there is? What if there is a point? And I think that part of me was right." I looked over at Fred again and smiled slightly. "There is a point. I'm starting to see that."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Fred asked.

I inhaled through my nose before letting it out. "It's not something I like to talk about," I said. "And I didn't want to make things about me. That wouldn't have felt right, you know? Following up your story of jumping into the pond with my own story about considering jumping into a whole waterfall."

"But to know you've had thoughts similar to mine running through your head..."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now," I muttered. "In any case, having people that care about me and want to keep me safe is a whole new concept. It's a little hard for me to get used to-the fact that for the first part of my life, nobody cared, and now multiple people care about the same girl-who actually was in a worse state than ever when first appearing in London. You said it's not an outrageous concept to have someone care about me, but it actually is."

"It's not, though. It just feels like it is to you." Fred let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. "Look, there's something I have to tell you. I've been debating telling you now or waiting until we're back in London and things have calmed down a bit, because I don't want you to lose your shit. But, Soph, I-"

Suddenly, my eyes flickered to a spot over Fred's shoulder, on the other side of the boat and I gasped, cutting Fred short in whatever he was going to say.

"Fred, it's her!"

He turned to follow my gaze and I knew he'd seen her this time: the Mystery Woman. What the hell was she doing on the boat with us?

I immediately left Fred's side and rushed across the deck towards her. She saw me coming and turned on her heel, her cloak billowing out behind her as she hurried away, down the stairs to the lower deck. I followed her, squeezing through people as best I could, determined to catch up to her.

I made it to the lower deck, which was empty of people-everyone was on the upper deck. But the Mystery Woman was hurrying towards the back of the boat. I sped up and dashed across the deck, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded as she spun around to face me. Fred had caught up to me by now and he stood behind me, panting slightly and staring over my head at this woman-this woman that kept following us but always gave us minimal information when we managed to speak to her.

She stood there, wringing her hands and looking at me.

"Are you going to say anything?" Fred asked. "If you're going to keep following us, the least you can do is say something useful!" When the woman didn't say anything, he stepped around me to stand in front of her. "Do you have any idea what all of this is doing to her?" He pointed at me. "She's scared and upset and desperate to put everything that's happened behind her, so please, stop staring and just talk to us!"

"I can't!" the woman practically wailed. "If I tell you everything, he'll know it was me and he'll kill me."

"Eric," I said quietly as the woman nodded.

"How did you get involved with him?" Fred demanded.

"I can't say," she whispered.

Fred let out a cry of frustration as he threw his hands into the air and turned away from her.

"Is he here?" I asked the woman, my voice a whisper. "In Salem?"

I saw Fred look over his shoulder at the woman as she nodded slightly.

"He is. He knows you're here. All of you."

"You need to give us some answers," Fred demanded. "Now. Because it seems to me like you're working with this bastard."

"No, it's not like that," the woman insisted hurriedly. "It's...complicated."

"Then explain, damnit!" Fred shouted.

"Fred, please be quiet," I whispered, glancing towards the upper deck of the boat. If anyone came down here, the Mystery Woman would disappear for sure. I looked back at her and swallowed. "You were standing in the cemetery earlier, weren't you?" I asked. "Next to a specific headstone. Was that intentional?"

"You were on the right track by going to that museum," the woman said, looking at me almost hopefully.

Fred snorted. "All that told us was that Nathanial Hawthorne is related to that judge from the witch trials."

"That's right," the woman said, staring at us with wide eyes as she nodded almost eagerly. "They're related." She looked at me. "Just like you and Elizabeth are related."

"What are you getting at?" I asked her.

She started nervously wringing her hands again as she bit her lip. "Do you ever find that sometimes history tends to repeat itself?" she suddenly asked. "Even if it's in the smallest of ways..."

Fred let out a bitter laugh and turned to me. "She's spewing nonsense. She's completely out of her mind."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I stared at the woman thoughtfully. If I was honest with myself, I didn't think she was out of her mind. To me, she seemed scared. To me, she seemed as if she was trying to give us information without telling us exactly what she had to say. She was afraid-we knew that. She was afraid of what Eric would do to her if she told us what he was up to. I just had to make sense of what she was trying to say. I kept thinking of how she'd mentioned the word 'related'. A few times, actually. And she'd used it back when I saw her that day in Diagon Alley. She'd said everything was related.

"I have to go," the woman said hastily, backing away from us.

"Hang on," Fred said, turning back to her. But it was too late. She was already darting towards the back of the boat. By the time Fred and I caught up to her, she was suddenly Disapparating with a popping sound.

"Damnit!" Fred cried, smacking his hand against the boat railing. "This is getting ridiculous!"

I ignored him as I frowned in thought, my mind going over the few tiny, vague clues the woman had given us. I sank down onto a bench containing life jackets and rested my elbows on my knees.

"Fred," I began quietly as I suddenly began to get an idea.

"She's wasting our time!" Fred plowed on as he paced back and forth in front of me. "Every time we try to talk to her, we get nowhere. We shouldn't even be trying at this point. We'd have better luck figuring this out on our own, which is saying something because we weren't doing so great at that, either!"

"She's afraid," I said. "It seemed to me as if she wanted to tell us everything. The last time I talked to her she seemed that way too. As if she wanted to talk, but was too afraid. She even said if she talked, he'd kill her. It seemed as if she was trying to tell us what she could without telling us enough to get her punished."

Fred stopped his pacing and looked at me as he thought that over. Finally, he sat down beside me on the bench. "You know...now that you say that, she did remind me of someone."

"Who?" I asked in surprise.

"This house elf that I used to know. Dobby. Remember that family I told you about-the Malfoys? Dobby was their house elf for a while. And that diary I told you about that possessed my sister belonged to the Malfoys-I told you that. Well, Dobby, having been their servant at the time, knew all about that diary. The summer before that school year, he snuck over to Harry's house to warn him not to go back to school. He knew about all that was going to happen that year. The diary, the Chamber of Secrets being opened...Well, he tried to warn Harry, but he wasn't supposed to. So he was just as vague and every time he gave up any kind of information, he'd start banging his head against the wall or hitting himself with a lamp. One time he even ironed his damn hands. He was constantly punishing himself for going against orders." He shrugged. "Because he was afraid of what the Malfoys would do to him."

I nodded. "That's exactly the vibe I was getting from this woman. I do think she has good intentions. I think she's the reason Eric has come as far as he has. She's the one who can do magic. He can't. I'm willing to bet she got him in to Diagon Alley. She's the one who helped him get to London in the first place. She's probably been doing all the magic for him that he needs."

"I think you're right," Fred said. "But she's not doing it because she wants to."

I shook my head. "I think I also know what she was talking about just now."

"Yeah?" Fred asked in surprise. "You managed to make some sense out of all that?"

I nodded as I let out a slow breath of air. It was quiet between us for a moment, the only sound filling the air was the sound of the waves lapping at the side of the boat, and the faded sound of the music coming from the upper deck.

"Are you going to elaborate?" Fred asked me slowly, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"She kept saying the word related. And she made that comment about history repeating itself." I bit my lip and turned to look at Fred. "She kept saying everything was related that day in Diagon Alley, too. The day that man tried to rob me. She keeps saying everything's related. Just like I'm related to Elizabeth. Do you think-do you think that maybe Eric is related to Judge Hathorne?"

Fred's eyes widened. "What?"

"She said we were on the right track going to Nathanial Hawthorne's birth place. She appeared in the cemetery next to Judge Hathorne's grave. She said he and Nathanial were related just like Elizabeth and I are related. She said history tends to repeat itself. Maybe it is! Eric, who's related to John Hathorne has it out for me because I'm related to Elizabeth Proctor!"

"That sounds insane," Fred said, shaking his head. "All of that stuff between them happened centuries ago. Why would he be holding it against you now?"

"Because he's insane," I said as if it were obvious.

"I know that," Fred said quietly.

"Do you?" I snapped.

"Sophie," Fred said quietly, reaching out and putting his hand over mine. "I may not have met him or had to live with him, but I know there's something very wrong with him from what you've told me and from what he's done. I don't have first hand experience with him, but I can see what he's done to you. And while it does sound insane that he'd go this far over things that happened centuries ago with your ancestors, it's still the only explanation we have."

I flipped my hand over under his and intertwined our fingers. "Fred?"

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice a whisper. He ran his thumb back and forth along mine, and I stared down at our hands, almost transfixed by the movement of his thumb.

"I'm really glad you're here," I whispered, looking up from our intertwined hands to meet his eyes. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes traveling across my face, down to our hands, and then back up to my face. He used his free hand to reach up and push away a tendril of hair that had blown across my face in the wind. It was suddenly as if I knew what he was thinking and while the realization terrified me, I also didn't move, speak, or try to stop him.

Fred hesitated a split second longer, his hand coming to rest on the side of my head by my ear. And then he leaned in and kissed me. He moved slow enough not to startle me, but at the same time he did it without any further hesitation. And I let him. My heart was pounding, my stomach was fluttering and my brain was practically screaming for me to put an end to it all immediately. But I didn't. At least not at first. I let it continue for Merlin knows how many more seconds before I slowly pulled away--just slightly. I rested my forehead against Fred's and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before pulling away completely.

"There's actually a part of my brain telling me it would be tactful to apologize," Fred whispered. "But I think that would also be quite out of character, so I'm not going to."

I giggled quietly. "Don't apologize," I whispered back.

"I know you say you're not interested in romance right now," Fred went on. "But your actions say otherwise. You not only let me kiss you, but you kissed me back."

I looked down at my knees as I thought over how to respond. He was right. I'd been trying to push away and ward off any kind of romance for a while, wanting to only focus on what I'd come here to do. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any kind of interest in Fred. And the fact that I now knew he was a good kisser didn't help the situation.

"I don't think it's so wrong that I don't want to let myself get distracted from what we came here for," I finally said.

"No, I don't think so either," Fred said. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with it. It just seems as if you're torn between your head and your heart right now and isn't that more distracting than anything?"

I shrugged. "Maybe?"

Fred stared at me, his eyes practically boring into the side of my head as I looked out at the water. "I can practically see about fifty walls going up around you right now," he said. "Talk to me, Soph. Please."

I looked back over at him. "I like you, Fred, but I don't want to get hurt again and I also don't want to be the one to hurt you," I whispered, my voice catching slightly. "My life is so unstable and if something happens..."

"I'm not going to let anything happen," Fred said. "I've told you that several times."

"That's not a promise you can keep," I said. "You know that as well as I do. Things happen that are completely beyond our control and I-I don't-"

"You're afraid of being the reason I have another breakdown," Fred said, his tone slightly accusatory. "You don't trust me to be okay if something happens to you."

"It has nothing to do with trust," I argued. "Or a breakdown. Not necessarily."

"One of the things I always liked most about you was that you didn't treat me like this," Fred said. "I don't want you to be afraid of hurting my feelings."

"First of all, did you ever think that hurting you would hurt me?" I asked, turning to look at him in annoyance. My question clearly took Fred by surprise because he froze and blinked at me a few times.

"What?" he asked.

I let out a scoff of laughter. "If I just let you kiss me, and if I kissed you back, what do you think that means, Fred? I like you. A lot. Even before now, I cared for you as a friend. I don't want to see you hurt. And I definitely don't want it to be on account of me. And you know what-why would I want you to go back to that place you were in before? Why would anyone want that? It's a logical concern that has nothing to do with treating you like a ticking bomb and everything to do with just keeping you safe! When I first showed up here, I didn't even know you. Now I do and everything's different." I swallowed and shook my head. "When you say you don't want people to be afraid of hurting your feelings, I think what you really mean is you don't want people to be afraid to tell you to get ahold of yourself when you're being out of hand. But what I'm afraid of is-is-"

"Breaking my heart," Fred whispered as I nodded, almost tearfully. He reached out and put his arms around me, pulling me to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and we just sat there like that in the near silence, until Fred spoke again. "I can't help how I feel, though, Soph."

"I can't either," I whispered with a watery laugh. "Trust me, I didn't plan on this."

"Oh, I know," Fred laughed, tilting his head down slightly so that he was looking at me. "It's all you've talked about. How you weren't looking for romance, didn't have time for a boyfriend, you had other problems to worry about. Blah, blah, blah..." He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"It's all true!" I protested. "I tried to keep myself blocked off from everyone because I thought it would be better that way. Safer." I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. "But doing everything alone is exhausting."

Fred chuckled and I felt his lips gently kiss my forehead. We sat there for a bit longer until we realized the boat was heading back towards the docks. The night was over.

"We should probably go find George and Rachel," I whispered as the boat drew nearer and nearer to the shore.

"Yeah," Fred agreed, letting go of me almost reluctantly as I stood up. I waited for him to do the same, and once he had, he slipped his hand back into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving my hand a squeeze. He leaned in and pressed another lingering kiss to my forehead before pulling back and leading me towards the stairs.