Fred and I didn't end up staying outside for much longer after our encounter with Elizabeth. Our minds were still reeling from everything she'd said. We did meet up with George first, though, who had passed us each a small bag of buttery popcorn.
"I also got you this," he told me, holding out a balloon animal in the shape of what looked like a cat. "I thought it might make you smile."
I giggled as I examined the small yellow balloon animal in my hands. "Thanks, George. I love it."
George beamed and nudged his brother. "What's wrong, Freddie? Why the long face? Do you want a balloon animal, too?"
Fred ran a hand over his face before letting out a short laugh. "No, it's not that."
"Then what is it?" George asked, his expression turning serious.
Fred let out a sigh before filling George in as I slowly picked at my popcorn, nibbling on it slightly as I listened to Fred's retelling of the story and watching George's reaction.
"So-what, was she a ghost?" he asked, furrowing his brow in thought. "Elizabeth Proctor's ghost? I mean, she must've been."
"She didn't really look like any ghost I've seen," Fred said. "She looked pretty...real? Tangible? Alive? But it's just not possible for her to know and even do everything she did without being, well...something." He let out a puff of air and leaned against a tree, tipping his head back against it and closing his eyes. "I have no idea who she is and she knew about Percy. Even if she gave us a fake name to make us think she was really Elizabeth Proctor, how would she know about Percy and how would she know how I felt about what happened?"
"And she had some interesting powers," I said. "I've never seen a human witch or wizard create lightning and electricity like that." I paused. "I agree with George. It had to have been Elizabeth. Whether as a ghost or something else, it was her. I know it. She was dressed in clothes from the time period that looked pretty authentic. She spoke the same way Elizabeth did when she wrote in the diary. And it would explain why she saved my life tonight. And that night back at Noah's house. And why she looked proud of me when she told me that I should be proud."
"Well, then why didn't she step in even sooner?" Fred asked furiously, opening his eyes and looking at me. "Why didn't she step in years ago? The entire time when you were under Eric's care, why didn't she do anything? Why didn't she step in when you were being held captive in that basement? Or when Eric gave you your scars? Or when he stabbed you in the leg?" He gestured wildly with his bag of popcorn, a few pieces spilling out as he did so.
I smiled slightly and reached out to put a hand on his wrist, gently lowering his arm. "You're going to waste your popcorn," I said quietly.
"I don't give a damn," Fred growled.
"Hey, it's good popcorn," George said, finishing off his own bag.
"It is," I agreed with a smile. I turned back to Fred and sighed. "But honestly, Fred? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe she's connected to the diary or the necklace. I've only had both items since shortly after I arrived in London. I had the diary at Noah's house and I had it, as well as the necklace, since I went to the Proctor house. I wore it up until I went inside. I only took it off to try to stand up to Eric. And then I hid it. I hid the necklace and the diary just like Elizabeth did while she was in jail. So if she's attached to them, that could explain it. Plus, Eric wasn't always around me back in London. He wasn't always close enough for her to attack. And before that, my mother had both items."
"Well then why didn't Elizabeth act once Eric captured you here?" Fred asked. "Or act while the diary and necklace were with your mother? She could've put an end to him a lot sooner and he wouldn't have been able to come after you and he wouldn't have been able to kill Noah either."
I flinched slightly before letting out a tired sigh. "I don't know, Fred. I don't know. As far as when my mother and I were in the house with Eric, maybe she didn't want to strike the house with lightning while we were there with him. There were also protection spells around it..."
"We've just established she's some sort of ghost!" Fred exclaimed. "She has more power than all of us combined!"
"You don't know that," I said. "Tell me, how much power did the ghosts at Hogwarts have?"
Fred seemed to deflate a bit. "Not much, if any," he sighed. "But for Elizabeth to have lightning powers, she must have been able to do something more to help you before tonight. She did help you before. She admitted it!"
"Right, so maybe she was trying this whole time. It's not like she gave us much explanation into what she can and can't do."
"She barely gave us any explanation at all!" Fred exclaimed.
I stepped closer and reached up to put a hand on his cheek, lightly rubbing my thumb over his skin as he leaned into my touch. "Hey, it's okay," I said.
"It's not," he murmured, his eyes downcast as he stared into his popcorn. "I just think of all you've been through and if there was ever a possibility that you could have been free of all this sooner..."
"Again, I have no idea what the answers are," I said. "And quite frankly, I'm too exhausted right now to do this all over again. Whoever that woman was, Elizabeth or not, she's gone now and I'm honestly just too damn tired to find her after all of this. I don't think she's a threat, and for now, I have all the answers I need."
"But-"
I shook my head. "I cant, Fred. I just can't. told you, I'm tired of tracking people down who don't want to be found. I just want to go about my life and finally, finally live it as normally as possible. I found everything I was looking for and it's time to let the rest of it go. Besides, what good is searching for more answers going to do? Answers from her about why she did and didn't do certain things. The point is that I'm here, I'm okay, and Eric is gone. It's all over now."
Fred nodded and let out another sigh as he pulled away to rub a hand over his face again. "Can we-can we go back to the hotel?" he murmured. "I'm not really in the mood for all of this." He gestured around him.
I nodded as I glanced at George. "Sure," I whispered.
"Any other day and I would be," he said with a dry laugh. "I'd be all over something like this."
"Another time," I said, nodding.
"I'll bring you back another year," Fred promised. "I will. So you can actually enjoy it for the first time without having to worry about Eric."
I smiled. "I'd like that."
"I'll stay here with Ginny and the others," George offered. "And I'll head back up with them later so that you two can have some time alone." He looked at Fred and glanced down at the popcorn in his hand. "Are you going to finish that?" A smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
Fred let out a small laugh of his own and hesitated briefly as he thought. "Yes," he finally said, plucking a few pieces out of the bag and sticking them in his mouth. "It is good popcorn, like you said."
George smiled. "Good. That's how I know you'll be okay-if you'd passed up the popcorn without finishing it, I would have known something was really wrong." He tilted his head back towards the hotel. "Now go on, both of you go get some rest."
A few minutes later, Fred and I were letting ourselves into the twins' hotel room. I was actually thankful for the quiet and that it was just me and Fred here for the moment.
I used the connecting door between our rooms to go back into the room I'd been sharing with Rachel, and grabbed a change of clothes. George had also kindly agreed to stop by my old foster house and gather the clothes I'd changed out of earlier. Normally I wouldn't have wanted to make even him go there, despite the fact that Eric was gone, but he had offered and I had left my shoes in the basement and I didn't have another pair—besides the one Eric had made me wear, of course.
Within five minutes of returning to the room, I was in the shower, washing the dirt and grime from my body and wishing I could also wash away the thoughts and memories running through my brain. I felt physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted as the events of the last week caught up to me.
Once I was done, I dressed again and braided my wet hair to keep it away from my face. I had absentmindedly searched for my wand for a moment, wanting to use a drying spell on my hair instead, but then I remembered that my wand had been broken. So the braid would have to do.
When I returned to Fred's room a few minutes later, he was sitting on the side of his bed, staring aimlessly out the window.
Wordlessly, I crossed the room and sat beside him, close enough for our arms to be touching just slightly, which gave him the option to pull away if he needed space. But he didn't.
We sat like that for a few moments until Fred turned sideways to face me. He leaned over to grab his wand from the center of the bed before gesturing me to turn myself towards him. When I did, he gently reached down and lifted my arm, avoiding touching my wrist where the rope burns were. He touched the tip of his wand to the raw, red ring that remained on my skin from the ropes and murmured a few spells. My skin burned slightly and I winced but then relaxed as the burning sensation went away and was replaced with what felt like cool water running over my skin. The red marks began to disappear until they were gone completely and I sighed with relief.
Fred did the same with my other wrist before lifting my hand and bringing the inside of my wrist to his lips, gently kissing it as he did so. "Better?" He asked, meeting my eyes.
"Much better," I said. "Thank you."
"He must've really yanked you around with those ropes," Fred commented.
"He did," I admitted. "But I also did some damage trying to break free when I heard you at the Proctor house."
"I heard you screaming for me," Fred said quietly, reaching out and taking one of my hands, interlacing our fingers. "In those few moments when the bricks had opened, I heard you. It scared the shit out of me and made it even harder to walk away. But I knew that at least you were alive. I'd been fearing the worst ever since the bracelets started going off while I was back in London."
"I'm really sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have went off to face Eric alone. I began to regret it once I was there. I should have just stuck with Rachel here at the hotel. Or at the very least not left her at the bar. I figured you'd be upset when you found her with my bracelet on, and she told me as much earlier."
Fred nodded. "I was furious. More so at her than you, though. Even if you shouldn't have walked off alone, I told Rachel to watch out for you. She promised me she would. She's supposed to be your friend."
"She is my friend," I said. "I pushed her to go out. It's partially my fault that we ended up in the position we did. I planned for it to happen the way it did. I was just so tired of worrying about the possibility of Eric hurting anyone else I loved. But he was doing it anyway."
Fred nodded slightly. "Even still, Rachel made me a promise, Soph. And she broke it. Even if it was your plan, she should have realized that. Or at the very least kept herself alert so she could stop you from going off on your own. If she'd done that, things wouldn't have happened the way they did."
"Fred, we wanted to confront Eric," I said. "That's why we came here."
"You're right--we wanted to confront him," Fred said. "All of us. That's why we didn't let you come to Salem alone. We were supposed to do it together. And maybe it did work out in our favor, but if Rachel had kept her promise, I wouldn't have had to rush back here from another country, barely able to concentrate enough to Apparate because I thought you were dead. I might not have continued to think about what I was going to do if I did find you dead. If Rachel had kept her promise, you might have still had to face Eric, but not alone and not in the way you did. He might never have even gotten the chance to hold you hostage and you may not have gotten so close to him killing you."
"Maybe. But Eric's goal was also to get me alone, too," I pointed out. "Don't forget. He had Ginny attacked to make sure you and George were far away, and then he disguised himself as Nick to tempt Rachel into going out and getting drunk. And all I did was make it easy for him. Things might've ended up the same way anyway. If Rachel had kept her promise, Eric would have found another way to get rid of her. He may have even killed her."
Fred seemed to freeze for a second and I could tell he hadn't considered that.
"None of this has ever been that simple, Fred," I went on, my voice a whisper. "I feel really lucky that it worked out positively in the end. And like I said outside, I want to let all of this go. I want to put it behind me and move on."
"That's not simple to do either, Soph," Fred whispered, looking over at me. "Not for me, anyway."
"I know," I nodded. "I'm not sure how easy it'll all be for me, either. Letting go of all of what Eric did to me certainly won't be easy. But forgiving Rachel? That's easy. There was never even anything to forgive in the first place. I ditched her. We can go back and forth all night about what could have happened, but what's done is done, and it worked out just fine in the end. And like I said, if it wasn't me dying, it could've been her."
Fred looked down at his hands, his jaw set. "Maybe you're right," he finally said. "But the fear I felt when the bracelets went off was bad enough. And then coming back here to find out that Rachel had your bracelet and you'd gone off alone." I saw him swallow as he shook his head and looked over at me. "I was really scared, Soph."
I nodded and looked at him sympathetically. "I know," I whispered, reaching over and putting a hand on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. "I get that and I'm sorry for the part I played in that. But Rachel clearly feels awful, too. So don't be too hard on her, okay?"
Fred let out a long sigh through his nose and nodded slightly.
I lowered my hand from Fred's hair and rubbed my eyes in exhaustion. "So, what else happened at the Proctor house?" I asked. "I could hear a lot of noise after Eric went upstairs to confront you, but I couldn't figure out what exactly was happening."
"Eric came at me and knocked me to the ground," Fred explained. "I missed hitting him with any jinxes. He dodged every single one of them." He shook his head almost in amazement. "He held his knife to my throat and threatened to kill me and every member of my family if I didn't write you that note and then leave Salem completely. I considered fighting back and telling him to fuck off. But then I realized that I could use what he wanted to my advantage. I realized that if he was going to threaten me to get me to leave and make me write that note to you, he wanted to mess with your head. He wanted to make you think I'd left you-he wanted to isolate you and make you feel alone. That told me he was essentially, well-"
"Playing with his food before he ate it?" I asked quietly.
Fred nodded. "Like I said earlier, I figured that I'd I played along, he'd let his guard down and would think he'd gotten rid of me for good. I figured that I had a little bit of time before he decided he wanted to kill you, so I snuck you your bracelet and the prank items and left to round up everyone else and think of a rescue plan once you did put the bracelet on."
"How did you know I would?" I asked.
"I had a feeling you'd come around," he said. "That if you were in that much danger and couldn't save yourself, you'd let me help you. But I still gave you those items from the joke shop just in case. I thought maybe you'd want one more opportunity to save your own life first. But I also figured you didn't have any way of doing that if you were, you know, being held captive." He shot me a wry, emotionless smile.
"You heard me tell Kingsley I used the joke products," I said. "I tried to escape, but Eric had his friends keeping watch." I let out a bitter laugh. "They said they were going to go back and kill you, your family, Tom and Martha..." I shook my head and sighed. "We were so close to getting away, too. It was just so hard to get away from him. It had always been so hard."
Fred didn't answer right away. He simply pressed a kiss to my temple and put an arm around me. "Well, you did it," he finally said. "You did get away."
"Yeah," I whispered. "Thanks to you."
Fred smiled. There was a pause before he spoke again. "How's your leg? Did it heal enough?" He tilted his head towards my left thigh as he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the spot where I'd described being stabbed, covered now by a pair of pajama bottoms.
"Yeah, it's fine. It's almost completely healed by now, actually. My mother healed it the best she could the Muggle way, and it's been doing the rest on it's own."
"Good," Fred said quietly. He paused. "You're sure, though? Do you need me to look at it?"
I smiled. "No, it's fine, I promise. Thank you for offering, though. You know, we should really be talking about your injuries," I raised an eyebrow at him. Fred's face was still bruised from where Eric had punched him earlier. His lip was still split and he had a line of dried blood trickling from his nose. He hadn't even tried to heal any of it.
"What about them?" Fred shrugged nonchalantly. "They don't even hurt."
"Liar. Even if they didn't hurt, they look awful."
"Are you calling me ugly?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.
With a quiet breath of laughter, I grabbed his wand and then used my free hand to tilt his chin up so his face was in the light. He looked down his nose at me as I turned his head from side to side, examining the bruise, which was a few shades darker than it had been earlier.
"Fred, he got you good," I told him, my stomach sinking.
"It's just a black eye," he said.
"Thankfully that's all it is." I waved his wand and instantly healed the bruise, watching as it faded from his face. I healed his split lip and bloody nose as well before I set the wand down and then reached up to touch the now healed skin of his cheek with my fingertips. "How does it feel? Good?"
Fred nodded and sighed as he leaned into my touch and closed his eyes.
"You're still thinking about Elizabeth," I commented, slowly removing my hand from his face.
Fred nodded again and opened his eyes as he stared at me. "Part of me was angry at first, thinking she was just some crazy woman trying to mess with me, but how would she have known otherwise? How would she have known his name? And even though I was angry at first, when she told me it was all okay and Percy wasn't holding anything against me, hearing the words made me feel..."
"Relieved?" I asked. "Free?"
Fred nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Free. Like a weight had been lifted from my chest. If Percy didn't hate me, than I could stop hating myself. But it was all overcome by anger because I thought that there was noway this woman could know that. Deep down, though, I don't think there's much else of an explanation. But it's all still a lot to process."
I nodded. "I know," I whispered. There was another long pause before I spoke again, looking up at Fred as I did so. "I don't know if it's much consolation, but even if she was some crazy old bat, well...she's right. I never met Percy, but I know that he'd never hold what happened against you. He did what he did knowing what the consequences could be because you're his little brother. Wouldn't you do the same for George? Or Ginny, or Ron? Or any of your siblings, really."
He nodded. "Of course."
"Look at what you did for me, Fred," I told him quietly. "You came all the way here, you put your life on the line. You came running to help me that day in Diagon Alley when I was being attacked."
"I still can't believe that was Eric," Fred growled. "What a sick bastard."
"You've been putting yourself at risk since you met me," I said quietly. "And you haven't known me that long. I can only imagine how fiercely you'd protect your family. And every time I tried to push you away, you demanded otherwise. You wouldn't take no for an answer and you wouldn't let me feel a single bit of guilt for dragging you into this mess. So if Percy's anything like you, he wouldn't let you feel that way about him."
Fred's head was cast downwards, but when he finally looked up at me, his eyes looked slightly glassy with tears. "Percy and I are nothing alike," he chuckled weakly. "And we never have been. But he has always been a no-nonsense kind of person. Especially when it comes to things he felt strongly about."
"I think you're one of them," I said with a soft smile. "A thing-a person, rather-that he felt strongly about."
Fred groaned and tipped his head back. "And he had to go and prove that by doing the absolute most he could. Typical. He always had to do the most. He was such a damn overachiever." He actually let out a dry laugh. "Most siblings can just say they love each other. Or buy each other gifts. I would have totally accepted a gift." He hesitated. "Although, Percy gave horrible gifts, so maybe I wouldn't have."
I giggled again as Fred leaned into me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of my neck. I absentmindedly began toying with his hair again as he sighed.
"I'm really glad you're here," he whispered.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked, looking down at him. "I'm glad you're here. You saved my life."
"Nah, you saved your own life by finally accepting some damn help for once," Fred snorted.
"Shut it," I scoffed as I pulled away and turned myself so I was leaning against the headboard, stretching my legs out in front of me as I did so. Fred shifted as well and lay beside me. I curled up against his side and he wrapped his arm around me again.
"So..." he finally said. "Your mother."
"What about her?"
Fred let out a scoff. "Well, you found her," he said. "That must have been quite a shock for you."
I laughed. "What about you? You looked like you wanted to push her off the wagon."
"I did want to for a moment," Fred said. "I told you-I didn't expect to be that angry at her. I know not everything was her choice, but I've seen how badly she's hurt you."
"I know," I said quietly. "But at the same time I've spent so much time wondering about her. And now I don't have to anymore. I have the chance to get to know her all over again. And I want to. I want to try."
Fred didn't answer. Instead, he stared straight ahead as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over my hip.
"You're sure?" He finally asked. "I just don't want you to get hurt again."
I nodded. "You're sweet to worry, but I'm sure."
"You think it's going to be that easy?" he asked. "To just have a relationship with her?
"No, I've already told you I knew it wouldn't be. Both of us went through some very traumatic things and I'm sure it's affected and changed her just as much as it has me. But that's why I said I'd like to try." I continued to look at him for a moment longer, studying the side of his face as he stared at the wall, seemingly lost in thought. "What else is wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "Just thinking. Processing, you know?"
I hesitated a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth. "Okay," I finally said slowly. "You can tell me, you know, if there's something else bothering you."
Fred nodded. "I know," he whispered, still staring straight ahead.
I sighed. "Do you?" I asked, sitting up and actually turning and swinging my right leg over him so that I was now straddling his lap and sitting directly in his line of vision. If he wouldn't look at me, I was going to make him look at me.
Fred looked at me in slight surprise as he raised an eyebrow and his hands automatically went to the sides of my thighs, his fingers curling slightly around them. "When did you get so brave?" He asked. "When I first met you, you barely spoke and wouldn't look me in the eye. Now it looks like you're seconds away from ripping my clothes off."
"Stop it, Fred. Be serious." When he looked away again I reached out and gently put a hand on his cheek, turning his head to make him look at me. "Come on, now it's you not looking me in the eye."
Fred laughed quietly and glanced away for a second before looking back at me. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out where you and I are going to go from here."
Now it was my turn to blush and look away as I dropped my hand from Fred's face.
"Ah, no, none of that," Fred said. He reached out and took my chin between his fingers and tilted my head to look at him. One side of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "That's not fair for you to look away. You wouldn't let me avoid you. Besides, now is not the time to get bashful over a serious yet innocent question when you're the one straddling me."
I laughed. "Fair point. But okay, go on, you were saying you were trying to figure out where we'll go from here?"
Fred nodded as he continued to look at me. "Yeah, I just mean that you and I just kind of wandered into new territory ourselves regarding our relationship. And now in addition to your mother..."
"What, you don't think I can manage both?" I asked.
"It's not that. It's just, well, first of all, I guess I should ask-does your mother being back change anything between you and I?"
"No," I insisted. "I still want a relationship with you, Fred. I don't want to lose you just because I found my mother again."
"Okay," he said slowly, meeting my eyes. "So you won't object to me asking you out on a proper date?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I'd like to go on a date with you. I told you that."
Fred nodded. A slow smile suddenly spread over his face. "Although, like I said, you're already straddling me, so we could just move straight to—"
"No," I interrupted, swatting his chest gently. "If that's the way you're thinking, I'll just get off of you." I tried to move, but Fred moved his hands to my hips, stopping me.
"I didn't say I hated it," he said with a cheeky grin.
"No, you didn't. That's exactly the point. You're enjoying yourself."
"Of course I am," he replied.
I rolled my eyes slightly before looking at him again and shrugging. "I just want to do things as normally as possible. Now that I can and don't have to keep looking over my shoulder. So, yeah, I'd really like to go on a date, actually. I wouldn't object at all."
Fred looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before reaching out and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "But you and your mother—"
"I can maintain multiple relationships at once, you know," I said. "Honestly, it's like you're doubting me or something."
"Of course not. But-" Fred began, before breaking off and biting his lip thoughtfully.
"But what?" I asked gently. "There's something else bothering you. Something you aren't saying. What is it?"
Fred sighed and looked up at me with a slight frown, his eyes wandering slowly over my face, taking me all in. Finally, his serious expression melted into a playful one. "Do you want to know what my next move is now?" He finally asked. "Right now, I mean? Now that you've agreed to a date, but before that date has actually happened?"
"What?" I whispered, my pulse quickening slightly. I knew he'd changed the subject, but my heart was racing too fast for me to care.
Fred pushed himself away from the headboard and leaned towards me, slowly pressing his lips to mine.
I kissed him back for a second before pulling away slightly. "We were having a serious conversation, you know," I whispered.
"We were," he whispered back. And even though my eyes were still closed, I knew he was grinning.
"You changed the subject," I said.
"I did," Fred replied. He leaned in and kissed me again. "Because I'd much rather do this," he whispered.
I let him continue for a moment longer, even allowing him to deepen the kiss. And while my heart was certainly pounding, I didn't have any of the fear I would've had normally when people came too close too quickly. I knew I was safe. My mind was actually almost blank for the first time in a long time. Nothing else mattered. And it felt amazing. Besides all of that, I was enjoying actually kissing him. He was good at it, even if I still feared I wasn't.
Fred's hands suddenly wandered from my hips to my sides and then around to my back. I stiffened slightly but relaxed a second later. It still didn't go unnoticed by Fred, though. He pulled away and gave me a half-smile. "Sorry," he said.
"For what?" I asked. "For touching my back?"
He nodded. "That, and because it was probably stupid to try and kiss you," he said. "After all you just went through, this is the last thing you probably want."
"Fred, I did kiss you back, you know," I told him.
"Okay, well then maybe it's the last thing you need. Or it's something you think you want, but actually don't."
"Are you psychoanalyzing me?" I asked with a smile, looking at him in amusement.
Fred let out a short laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "I just meant-I felt you stiffen when I touched you, Soph. You're verbally telling me one thing, but your body tells me otherwise."
"I'm not sure if that's true," I told him, shaking my head. "Like I said, I kissed you back."
"I know, but then you-"
I silenced him by leaning forward and kissing him again, one of my hands resting on his chest and the other sliding into his hair.
"Soph..." Fred gently nudged me away after a moment, pulling back and looking at me with this odd, conflicted expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "You told me you wanted to do this. In fact, you started it. And now you don't?"
Fred sighed. "It's not that. I just realized that I don't think it's what you want or need right now. Tonight was rough-the past few weeks have been rough. And despite what you say, I can read signals, you know."
"All I've been doing is signaling that I want to kiss you," I said.
"Yes and no," Fred answered. "Besides, like I said, I don't think this is what you need, despite what you think you want."
"So you consider yourself an expert now on what I need?" I asked. I tried to keep my voice playful, but I still heard the shrillness in it on the last word.
"Soph," Fred sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back. "I'm just trying to help you."
"I understand that, but trust me, I really do just want to kiss you right now." I rested a hand on the side of his face, threading my fingers through his hair and brushing them along the shell of his ear and then down the side of his neck as my eyes wandered over his face.
His eyes widened for a split second. "Are you bloody serious right now, Soph? What's gotten into you? Where is all of this coming from?"
I simply smiled. "I've got a lot of newfound courage now that I'm not being hunted down by a lunatic."
"I think the rush of your newfound freedom made you delirious," Fred answered, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe," I whispered, steadily meeting his eyes and smiling slightly. I wasn't entirely sure what was happening right now myself, but I felt like I wasn't thinking much at all at this point. I was just talking-and acting-instinctively. Trying to chase that feeling of not only how good it felt to kiss him, but how peaceful my mind felt while I was kissing him. I was just so tired of thinking.
"Soph," Fred whispered, his eyes traveling over my face as he chewed slightly on his lip. His eyes stopped on my own lips for a moment before they flicked up to my eyes. He simply stared at me, holding my gaze with his own for a long moment. Finally, he closed his eyes and swallowed. "Damnit," he whispered.
And then he leaned in and kissed me again as I slid my hand to the back of his head, running my fingers through his remarkably soft hair.
We carried on like that for a few moments more, my mind blissfully blank as Fred continued to kiss me. It was only when he suddenly flipped us over so I was lying on my back and he was hovering above me that I felt myself get scared. I had a flash of Eric hovering above me back at the Proctor house, pinning me down with his knees as he tied me up and I screamed only for him to slap me across the face.
It was suddenly like whatever weird metaphorical spell I'd been under had broken-and quickly, too. I couldn't breathe, and my mind was no longer blank. Far from it, actually.
"Fred," I gasped out, pulling away as much as I could.
"Hm?" He asked, trailing kissed from my jaw to my neck. The wave of fear rushed through me again, tightening my chest.
"Fred, stop," I said, my voice coming out clearer as I pushed on his chest slightly. "Please."
He understood immediately and pulled back, rolling off of me as I sat up and took in a few deep breaths, resting my elbows on my knees and running my hands through my hair. Tears were pricking my eyes and I knew Fred would notice, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. I was annoyed, angry, hurt, embarrassed, and a little ashamed. Not to mention that I was beyond frustrated. Frustrated with myself for being this way, but mostly Eric for making me this way. Would I ever just get to be normal? I wanted to kiss Fred. Eric was dead. Why did I feel as if he were still here, looking over me?
I finally turned my head to see Fred sitting beside me, but far enough away to give me space. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but I thought I noticed a bit of frustration too. I didn't blame him. I'd practically begged him to kiss me, then had freaked out and stopped him. Part of him probably wished I was normal too, so he could just kiss a girl without her freaking out.
"I'm sorry," I finally muttered, averting my gaze. I couldn't even look Fred in the eye.
"You're sorry?" He asked incredulously. "What for?"
"I wanted to kiss you," I told him, lowering my hands to my lap and staring down at them. "I acted like..." I sighed and trailed off. "I acted like I wanted to. And I did. I did want to. I swear. I know it just seems like I was teasing you, but that wasn't my intention. It's just that when you rolled on top of me, all I could think of was Eric holding me down as he tied the rope around my wrists, hitting me across the face when I wouldn't stand still."
Fred was quiet for a moment. "I understand that you've been through a lot, but firstly, I need you to know that I'm not Eric. I would never—"
"I know," I told him earnestly. "I know that."
"Soph...if anything ever becomes too much, just tell me, okay? Tell me and I'll stop."
I nodded. "I can't promise this won't happen again, though."
"I would be surprised if it didn't," Fred answered. "After everything that man put you through? You're not going to come out of this unscathed. I know that and you do too. So try to be patient with yourself, yeah?
I nodded as I sighed. "I just want to make sure you know that it has nothing to do with you. I do like kissing you. I like you in general."
Fred smiled slightly. "I know it's not me. I get that. And as much as I like to hear how much you like me, I just think..." He let a puff of air out of his mouth. "You may have been okay with kissing me, or at least okay with the idea of kissing me. In theory, you know? But it's not possible for you to be in a good place right now. A lot just happened. I get it. I understand. But I guess I also don't want you to be doing this just because maybe you like how quiet your mind gets? At least for a little while?"
When I looked at him in slight surprise, he smirked.
"I went through my own shit, too, Soph," he said. "I know more about what's happening than you might think. I used to do the same thing you're doing, but instead of kissing, I drank."
I nodded and let out a sigh. "Maybe you're right. Yeah, my mind was quiet, and it felt great. Once I felt that, I wanted to keep feeling it. And then it just got to be to much when you were suddenly on top of me."
"You felt like you weren't in control anymore that way," Fred said.
"I guess so." I shook my head. "I just-I wasn't trying to be a tease or anything."
"I know," Fred answered. "Like I said, I'd be surprised if you did make it out without some kind of mental shit."
"Mental shit," I snorted. "Lovely."
Fred shrugged, keeping his eyes on me.
"Anyway...you don't mind?" I asked. "You're not disappointed?"
"Sophie, look at me," Fred said, sliding closer and slowly reaching for my hand. I let him take it before glancing quickly up at him. He shook his head. "No, look at me, Soph. Really look at me." He gently titled my chin up until I was looking at him fully. "Regardless of the reason you stopped me, I would have stopped. Whether you were reminded of all the trauma you've been through or you simply just weren't ready, I would have stopped. Come on, I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but not to that extent."
"That's not what I asked," I said. "I know you would have stopped. I asked if you were-"
"It doesn't matter," Fred insisted. "I'm just making sure you know I would have stopped when you asked me to. Because if you feel like I'm disappointed, or that stopping is some sort of annoying chore, that sounds like you don't think I respect you enough to do what you ask."
I considered that. "That's a fair point. But at the same time, it does matter," I said. "I'm disappointed, too, Fred. I told you, I want this. I want to kiss you. I want to be able to do this without being afraid."
"One day you will," Fred promised. "But what matters now is that you were too uncomfortable to keep going, so we stopped."
"You just seemed so frustrated afterwards, too," I said quietly. "And that scared me. I don't know if that was my imagination or not, but that's what I was getting."
Fred shook his head. "If anything, I was frustrated with myself. I knew that doing this now wouldn't be appropriate. You're not in a good headspace right now even if you try to act like you are. You just escaped being murdered. I told you I wasn't sure if this was what you needed, and I was mad at myself for giving in to you and then frightening you in the end."
"I told you-it wasn't your fault or anything you did."
"It felt like it," Fred said. "It was hard not to give in to you, especially when you were looking at me the way you were, because obviously, I like kissing you, too. A lot, actually. But I'm not going to force you to do something that you don't want to do. And I'm not going to get so frustrated that I decide to move on to someone else, if that's what you're thinking." He paused. "I know how that feels."
"But Angelina couldn't help falling in love with Oliver. You know that. You don't get to choose who you have feelings for. If you find someone else who can give you what you want—"
"I want you," Fred said. "For more than just kissing, too. I want your kindness, your sense of humor and your patience. You know, I've hit you with a door, stepped on your foot, yelled at you and embarrassed myself in front of you. And I know that I must have annoyed and terrified you at times, especially the beginning. But you still like me anyway. You've stuck by me through a lot of my own shit and I haven't forgotten."
I snorted. "Don't forget, I also cleaned up your vomit before I'd even met you."
"That too," Fred chuckled. "I've seen the way you've been such a help to my mother, too. Your company means more to her than you know. Your willingness-and eagerness-to have her teach you things. You're a good listener. I've also seen how empathetic you are, especially when reading Elizabeth's diary. You'd always leave off on cliffhangers and I'd tease you for it, but...there was a reason for that. You're empathetic, despite some people in the world showing you that they don't deserve it." He paused as he let me process all of that. "I also want you to trust me," he said quietly. "I know you mostly do. But I want you to trust me completely. There's always going to be a certain amount of risk with this kind of stuff, even when things aren't as complicated as they are with us. But you have to want to take that risk. You have to think it's worth it."
I thought that over for a second before sliding closer to him and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "It is," I whispered. "Worth it, I mean. I guess I'm just angry at myself too because, like I said, I want this. I want to be normal and I just...can't always seem to do that."
"It's not your fault," Fred said.
I nodded. "I know," I whispered. "Ultimately, yes, I know that."
"And one day, you won't be so afraid anymore, either," he went on. "You'll get there, I know you will."
I nodded. "Thanks, Fred."
He smiled and slipped his arm around me again, pulling me to him and leaning back against the pillows as he did so. And shortly after, we'd both fallen asleep that way-me curled up against Fred's side and his arm wrapped snugly around me.
The next morning, I woke up still feeling tired. My sleep had been interrupted in the middle of the night by another nightmare, which wasn't all that surprising. I'd jolted awake trembling and gasping for air as I looked around and tried to get my bearings and remember where I was. I'd even flipped on the light and glanced around the room nervously, even though I knew no one was there. The only other people in the room were Fred and George-who had come back to the room sometime after Fred and I had fallen asleep and was now sprawled across the second bed.
I'd gotten up and gone into the bathroom, where I splashed water on my face and then stood there with my hands resting on the sink as I managed to stop shaking. When I looked up again, Fred was standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the doorframe and watching me. I noticed his reflection in the mirror and jumped slightly as I let out a gasp; I hadn't realized he was there. I closed my eyes and looked away, turning my chin into my shoulder as I tried to calm my racing heart.
In the meantime, Fred wordlessly crossed the room to me and gently turned me around, pulling me to him. He wrapped his arms around me and brushed my hair back from the side of my face as I fought to hold back tears.
We'd stood like that for a while until Fred had scooped me up, still without a word, and carried me back to bed, where he stroked my hair until I fell asleep again.
When I woke up in the morning, Fred was no longer beside me. I could sense it even before I opened my eyes. Rolling over, I let out a quiet groan and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nine-fifteen in the morning.
"Morning, sunshine."
I looked up to see George sitting on the spare bed that he'd slept in the night before. He was leaning over to tie his shoes while he smiled up at me. I heard water running from the bathroom and guessed that was where Fred was.
"Morning, George," I mumbled sleepily, rubbing the back of my hand over my face.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, finishing with his shoes and sitting up straight as he looked at me seriously.
I shrugged as I pushed myself to a sitting position. "Tired, mostly. I haven't been sleeping well lately--being trapped in a basement will do that to you. And last night was kind of rough."
"Fred mentioned that," George said. "He told me you had a nightmare."
I nodded, wondering if that was all Fred had said or if he'd mentioned the rest of what happened as well. "Yeah, it's alright, though," I finally said. "I'm used to getting them. They aren't anything new. I'd even get them when I was with Tom and Martha." I laughed quietly. "Tom didn't know what to do with himself, especially the first time, so he'd always run to make me a mug of tea."
"That sounds like Tom," George laughed. It was quiet again as his laughter faded. "I went and got your clothes by the way." He gestured to the dresser with a tilt of his chin, and I saw my clothes sitting there as well as my shoes. "From your house—well, Eric's house. I suppose it never felt like yours actually, did it?" He amended quickly. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I said. "Thanks for going. I appreciate you doing that."
"We figured we'd head back home later this afternoon," George went on. "Mum wrote this morning—she's anxious to get us all back. And Tom and Martha are anxious to see you. But I don't think there's any need to rush. I thought you may need some time to compose yourself and rest a bit before we go back and you get ambushed."
I nodded. "Yeah, I like that idea. Thanks."
George swallowed and shifted almost awkwardly on the bed. "Um...so once we've gone back, do you-do you plan on staying in no London?"
"I want to," I answered. "But that's why I think I need to go talk to my mother. I have no idea what to do from here."
"Right, but what if she doesn't want to stay in London? What if she wants to stay here? Or go somewhere else?"
"I honestly haven't thought that far ahead," I admitted. "I don't want to stay here in Salem. I know that much. I don't think I can, so I hope that's not what she wants. I want a relationship with her, but I also really want to go back to London--permanently. I can't imagine being anywhere else." I sighed. "But I haven't even talked to her in depth yet, like I said. I think I should talk to her, just to see what her plans are and what we should do from here." I paused. "You know, Fred essentially asked me the same thing last night. Not directly, but he did ask where the two of us would go from here. I told him I could have a relationship with both him and my mother, which is what I do want, but he still didn't seem all that satisfied and then he changed the subject." I looked up at George. "Does he think I won't stay in London? Is that what's bothering him?"
George shrugged. "I mean, everything is a little unsure right now. You don't even know if you'll be staying in London. You say you want to, but what you'll actually decide is a different story. As you said, you haven't even talked to your mother yet. But Fred does want you to stay. You know that right? I think he's worried that if you don't stay, it'll be hard to maintain a relationship with you from across an ocean."
I nodded. "He's worried I'll just leave with my mother and prioritize a relationship with her over one with him."
"That's the gist of it," George said. "I think it runs a little deeper than that, but he's going to have to talk to you himself."
I snorted. "Like that's an easy thing to get him to do. I tried last night and he was more interested in trying to kiss me."
George groaned. "Merlin, he's got the same amount of class as a troll."
I smiled. "He did try to resist," I said. "But then it was me being a bit persistent."
"Ah," George answered with a smile. "Gotcha."
"Stop looking at me like that!" I laughed, a blush creeping up my cheeks.
"You so like my brother," George teased, grabbing the pillow from his bed and lightly swatting me in the side with it.
I flushed an even darker shade of pink and looked away, trying to hide my smile. But underneath that smile, I still felt anxious.
I knew that George had a point in what he had said. Everything was so unsure. How could I know what I wanted so clearly, but still feel like I had to make some kind of a choice?
"So," I sighed. "I guess the first step would be to just talk to my mother. See what she's thinking. And then make my own decision from there."
"I agree," George said. "Your mother's room is down the hallway, if you want to go find her. It's number three hundred."
"How did you know that?" I asked in surprise.
"She left you a note this morning. Slipped it under our door." George reached over to the nightstand and passed me the note, scrawled on the complimentary hotel notepad.
"She just wants to talk to me," I said, reading the note. "She probably had the same idea I did." I chewed on my lip for a bit before standing up. "I guess I'd better go. Will you tell Fred where I've gone?"
George nodded as I grabbed the clothes off of the dresser and turned for the door that led back to my own room.
"I'm going to go change first," I said, glancing at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall. "I look like shit." I pulled my hair out of the braid it had been in--that was now falling out anyway--and ran a hand through it a few times.
"You've never looked like shit," George assured me me. "You've always been the epitome of beauty."
I let out a scoff of laughter. "Thanks, George, but I definitely look like shit. And it sounds like you're full of shit."
George actually laughed. "Nice," he commented. "I appreciate your blunt honesty."
I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair again. It didn't look great, but it would have to do. Just as I was about to open the door to my room, George stopped me.
"Hey, Soph?" When I turned to look at him, he gave me a small smile. "Good luck."
"Thanks," I answered. I gave him a small smile and nodded before leaving his room and going into my own. I changed my clothes and then made my way out of the room down the hallway to where my mother was currently staying. I knocked on the door and she answered a moment later. She was wearing the clothes she'd worn back before Eric had made us change, and I guessed that George had grabbed her things as well as mine when he was at the house last night. They were slightly wrinkled, but I realized they were probably the only clothes she had at all and I suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for her. She'd been through just as much as I had. Maybe even more.
"Hi," she said with a smile. "You came."
I nodded. "I thought we should probably talk."
"We should," she agreed with a nod of her own. She paused. "Do you mind if we talk downstairs? The hotel has a place that serves breakfast and I think I need a coffee. You would not believe the headache I have right now."
"I think I would," I said with a quiet chuckle. "A lot's been happening. Besides, as it is I'm no stranger to—"
"Stress headaches?" My mother interrupted. "Same with me." She leaned against the doorframe and smiled. "You probably inherited that from me. Sorry."
I gave her a fleeting smile and shifted awkwardly on my feet. My mother seemed to sense my discomfort and her smile turned into a sad one.
"Come on," she said, pushing away from the wall and tilting her head towards the elevator. "Let's go."
I followed her down to the lobby and into the hotel restaurant, lost in thought. I sat back in my chair and absentmindedly watched as mother ordered a coffee and an order of scrambled eggs.
"And for you?" the waiter asked, turning to me.
I snapped out of my daze. "I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked, blushing slightly out of embarrassment. I had been so busy thinking of how this conversation with my mother was going to go that I hadn't been paying attention.
"What would you like to eat or drink?" The waiter clarified.
"Oh, um..." I began. I didn't even know what this place served for breakfast and hadn't even glanced at the menu. I hadn't planned on eating because I didn't feel all that hungry, oddly enough. I hadn't eaten properly in over a week. But instead, my stomach was a mess of nerves, holding off any kind of an appetite.
"You should eat something," my mother said.
I wanted to tell her she was in no place to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, but just then my stomach let out a rumble of hunger, surprising me. I ended up ordering the same thing my mother had, but chose tea instead of coffee.
"Not a coffee drinker?" My mother leaned back in her seat and smiled slightly at me.
"Not really," I shrugged, fiddling with the napkin and silverware lined up in front of me. "Especially after drinking a mug of tea brewed by Tom or Martha." I started to smile as I let out a quiet laugh. "I don't know how they do it, but they make the best tea. Tom always used to make me a mug after a nightmare, and it always-" I broke off abruptly and looked up at my mother in time to see a flash of pain in her eyes before it was gone. I awkwardly cleared my throat and looked away.
"I'm glad they took such good care of you," my mother whispered. There was a pause before she said, "I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."
"You want to meet them?" I asked, looking back up at her. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I want to officially meet the two people who took you in and finally gave you what I couldn't—and didn't. I guess I also want to thank them for it. It was a relief to know you were safe and being taken care of by someone. It took a weight off of my own shoulders."
"But how safe was I really?" I asked with a snort. "You and Eric both knew where I was. You even got him into the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley to begin with."
My mother looked away and began to nervously fiddle with her own silverware. "You were safer than you would've been alone and on the streets," she said. "You were more vulnerable traveling around by yourself with nowhere to stay, no food to eat, sleeping out in the open..."
"What does it matter? Like I said, Eric found me anyway. No thanks to you."
My mother pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, giving me a long, hard look. "And, tell me, was the state you were in before Tom and Martha's care any fit state to be fighting Eric in and winning? You wouldn't have stood a chance. You were alone and too weak. You had a better chance being with them, because you not only became strong enough to fight, both physically and mentally, but you also suddenly had reason to fight. And you also had people who would back you up and fight for you, even if you told them not to."
Her sudden snappiness sent a flare of annoyance through me and I shot her a look, but my expression softened as I thought about what she'd said. She had a point. "What about you, then?" I asked. "What was your excuse? You were never in a state as weak as I was. Why couldn't you get out?"
"I was weak," she whispered. "No, maybe not in the same exact way you were, but I was. In some ways, physically, but mostly mentally, you know? Worn down. Tired. Exhausted. But you were my motivation to keep trying and to keep finding a way away from Eric and back to you." She paused. "I kept trying to run away, even before you came into our care. And once you did, we tried to get out together. But Eric was...well, you know how he was. And he was worse once you'd gotten away. He was furious that you'd gone and he took it out on me."
"What'd he do?" I asked. My mother didn't answer, instead choosing to look down at the tablecloth and run her hand over it, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. I leaned forward and spoke more urgently. "What did he do?"
"It doesn't matter now, Sophie," my mother sighed, her voice exhausted as she finally looked back up at me.
"It does," I said, leaning back in my chair and staring at her in concern. "It does matter."
She didn't answer right away. Finally: "I thought I was going to die on several occasions in that house. Whether it be from starvation or from being hit or pushed or even from just plain fear. And when I wasn't thinking I was going to die, I was wishing I were dead." She swallowed and met my eyes, her jaw set. "Let's just leave it at that." Her voice held a tone of finality, letting me know she was done talking about it.
I sat there almost dumbly as she let out a heavy sigh. I had realized that Eric's actions would have taken a toll on my mother just as much as they had on me. But hearing her mention it herself and talk about it reminded me even more that she was a victim here too. She hadn't planned for or wanted any of this. She had suffered just as much as I had, if not more, because not only had eric possibly treated her worse than he had treated me, but she also had me to worry about. Her daughter. She had suffered physically, mentally, and emotionally, and she had never managed to find a single person to confide in or talk to or to lean on for support. Not like I had. Because of that, she was still suffering. She had to be. The weight of keeping it all in just have been crushing her. And on top of that, she was dealing with the knowledge that the daughter that had kept her fighting was, in many ways, no longer hers.
"You don't seem to want to talk about it and I can understand why, but if you need to talk--" I began, shaking my head. It seemed like such a weak offer compared to the help she probably really needed, but it was the least I could do. I was the only one who could even begin to understand what she'd gone through. And I also knew better than anyone how hard it was to open up to someone else, especially when you didn't want to. But I also knew just how much better it could make you feel. "If you need to talk, I can listen. And, I guess...commiserate with you a bit? If you need to?" I shrugged.
"I appreciate that, thank you," my mother whispered.
The waiter returned just then with my mother's coffee and my cup of tea. My mother sent him a grateful smile before picking up her mug and taking a sip, cradling the warm ceramic in her hands. "I'm also glad Tom and Martha took you in because you deserve to be happy," she went on, redirecting the subject away from herself. "You deserve to have a family and friends. Just because I failed you doesn't mean that you shouldn't have a happy life. It's not too late, you know."
I inhaled deeply through my nose. "But...we both want this—" I gestured between the two of us—"to continue, yeah? We both want to try to pick up the broken pieces and jigsaw them back into some form of what we had before?"
My mother nodded. "It's not going to be perfect. I know that. It's going to be cracked and unsteady. And I know that's largely my doing. But yes, I'd like to try and fix it the best we can."
"But you also want to go back to London and meet Tom and Martha?" I asked. Was this decision suddenly going to become a lot simpler than I'd thought?
She nodded. "I would. But...I'm also not sure if I'd like to stay there." She frowned and stared down into her mug as my stomach sank. "I just worry that if I stayed, part of me would always feel...excluded. Just because I know you and I can't have the relationship we should have had doesn't mean I like it and it doesn't mean it won't hurt to see you being a family with other people who took care of you better than I did." She shrugged and half smiled. "Besides, I thought for a moment that maybe I could try to make something work in New York City. That way you could visit me whenever you wanted. We could go ice skating together and see the city. As often as you'd like."
"New York?" I asked. "You mean you'd consider staying here in America permanently? Because it's too painful to stay in London with me? You know that's-"
"My own fault, I know," she answered, coolly. "And it's probably cowardly, too. But I don't know if I'll even have a place in London. All those people back there who love you-well, I don't expect them to take kindly to me. I saw the way most of them looked at me last night when you told them who I was. Fred looked downright murderous. You and I don't have a life together anymore and I don't want to overstep. That's why I thought of New York as an option. A plan for when it becomes clear that I'm not welcome in London."
"Okay, but if I want you in London, then that's what matters," I said fiercely. "Our relationship is the one you want to work on, yes? I'm not saying any of it will be easy, but you can't run from it if it's something you really want. The fact that you're already plotting an escape makes me think maybe you don't want this. You either do or you don't. But you can't nurture any sort of new relationship with me from New York while I'm in London. That's a load of crap."
My mother looked at me in slight surprise for a moment before a small smile appeared on her face. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes still on mine. "I agree with you," she said. "Which is why I wanted to start by going back with you. I want to try. And I do want to meet Tom and Martha. Facing them won't be easy. I know that. But I told you I wanted to go back and meet them. I wouldn't have suggested it if I was completely cowardly. It would be all too easy to not go back with you at all. But I have to let them know how grateful I am." She shrugged. "The Weasleys too, for that matter. All of them. And I'd like to try and win Fred over as well."
I sighed. "Everyone back in London means the world to me, but I've wondered about you for so long. I managed to numb myself to the pain of not having a mother, but knowing you're alive and knowing the story of what happened—I can't just walk away. I want to give you a chance."
"But you can't—and shouldn't—walk away from the life you've built in London, either," my mother said. "I understand that. And you also shouldn't walk away from Fred."
"Fred?" I asked, blinking at her.
My mother let out a quiet breath of laughter. "I heard the way you screamed for him at the Proctor house when Eric went upstairs to confront him. I saw the look on your face. And I heard you repeatedly say his name in your sleep. Do you think I don't know what that was?" When I stared at her, she snorted and rolled her eyes slightly. "You're in love with him."
I almost spit out a mouthful of my tea and quickly set the cup down with a shaky clink as I reached for my napkin. "You get all that from me saying his name in my sleep?" I asked. "Or screaming for him because I thought Eric was going to murder him?"
"I saw the pain on your face. I heard it in your voice," she said simply. "I also saw the way you turned and looked at him after he'd freed you from the ropes around your wrists. I saw the way he looked at you in return. I saw the way you hugged him. I was in love once, too, Sophie. And as you now know, he was not a good man. He was a coward and he was selfish and he did not give a shit about either of us, I'm sorry to say. But that didn't stop me from crying over him until my eyes were puffy and my throat was raw. Now I see that it was both time and tears wasted. But Fred...he has jumped through hoops for you, darling. He is a good man. And I don't expect you to want to let him go, nor do I want you to."
"But I told you I don't want to let you walk away either," I said. "And if you don't want to stay in London, that's put me in the position of having to make a choice that I don't want to have to make."
"If I do eventually decide to leave, I will be one Portkey or Apparate away," she said soothingly. "But I'm also in no rush."
I swallowed. "I still don't understand why you can't just decide to stay in London from the start," I said. "You say it might be too painful for you, but why don't you make an effort to be in my life by staying? I think you owe it to me at this point."
"You're right." She sighed. "Let's just forget I mentioned New York, okay? It was just a thought. A possibility. An option. And I understand what you meant about even having a backup option making it seem like I'm not fully present in wanting to get to know you again. But I am. So...forget New York. I will go back to London with you and be fully present. I'll stay as long as you would like me to."
"Really?" I asked, studying her.
"Really," she answered, nodding her head. "The last thing I want is for you to feel like you have to choose between London and anywhere else. We both know where you really want to be, and I'm in favor of that. I've already said I want to go back with you and that I'm also not in any sort of rush. I'm not on any sort of timeline. I considered the idea of New York, but my plan was never to drop in on Tom and Martha for a few short days, then run off again without adequately spending time with you. If we're going to attempt to fix this, it's not going to be done that quickly. I know that. But the point is that I just wasn't sure of what my place would be in London and how well I was going to be accepted. You might decide you don't want me to stay there either. Things may not work out between us. I'm considering options. But first and foremost, I want to focus on you. You and me."
"I agree," I whispered.
"And I don't want to stay here," she went on, gesturing around. "Not in Salem. And I think that's something else we can both agree on. So for now, I would like to go to London with you and see how that goes. Figure ourselves out there, where you don't have to give anything else up." She leaned forward and put a hand on my arm. "I'm not deserting you again. I will stay for as long as feels right. And even if I do leave, you can always find me again. There will be no more lies and no more secrets. If I tell you I'm going to be somewhere, that is where I'll be and you are welcome to write to me and visit me as often as you like and I will always be there. I promise."
"You promised that once before," I said, unable to help the fact that my throat had constricted.
"I know you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt again," my mother said. "You don't want to be made a fool of by making the mistake of trusting me only for me to hurt you again. And on some level, that's probably smart. But you also said you want this. You want to spend time together. And if you keep up all your walls and barricades and force fields, that's only going to make you lonely and exhausted. Besides, if you keep making assumptions about people, you may miss out on something wonderful. If you acted solely on an assumption of Fred that was based off of the fact that he owns a joke shop, you wouldn't have gotten to know him or his family." She paused for a moment. "Do you remember when you were young and I let you help me trim the rose bushes in the flower garden behind Ropes Mansion?"
I nodded. "I do."
"I told you I'd let you trim off one rose to take home if you helped me. And you were afraid to touch them because of the thorns. So I gave you your own pair of gardening gloves that were too big for your small hands. I told you to be careful and showed you just how to do it without getting pricked. And you got the hang of it, despite your initial fear. And at the end of the day, we walked home while you held that beautiful flower by the stem, carefully placing your fingers between the thorns. We put it in a vase at home and put it beneath the window. When the sun hit it just right, the red of the petals was the most vibrant and beautiful red I've ever seen."
"It was pretty," I admitted.
"And we would have missed out on seeing that every day if you had acted on your fear of getting hurt. If you had let your fear decide for you, we wouldn't have taken that flower home. But instead, we acted cautiously, but also bravely. Intelligently, but without letting fear control our every decision. Because if we do that, we miss out on a lot of good things in life." She sat back in her chair and smiled at me as I remained still, sitting there in thoughtful silence. Our food arrived a moment later, snapping me from my thoughts.
As I ate my scrambled eggs, I knew this was my mother's way of asking for the same thing Fred had asked of me. That I trust her and let her in. That I give her a chance. And if I did, I might just end up being pleasantly surprised.