dream of me // Fred Weasley

16. Fire

Ron had avoided Fred for two days now. The anger in his voice when he saw Ron trying to read what was written in the letter was enough to shake all of them to the core for a week. Fred had been so rattled by the whole situation that he had barely spoken to Blair, or anyone in the house. He remained shut in his bedroom, George sharing with the girls' as Fred had shouted at him to leave their shared room.

Blair could remember his stature growing quickly as he tore across the kitchen floor, knocking Ron off of the counter top and onto the floor as he snatched his letter away from him. Ron had been so in shock that when Fred stood over him, shouting about never touching something that was his again, he froze and couldn't even react to the situation.

Fred had looked around the kitchen, his face red and stormed in fury. Blair barely even recognised him. This was not Fred, she had never seen this man before. She didn't even know he had that kind of anger in him, and neither did his siblings.

She remembered his eyes darting to look around the kitchen, everyone looking away from him as he reached them. Blair could've sworn that when he had reached her eyes, and saw the fear for the spitting man in front of her, his eyes had softened. But only for a moment. Then they had glazed over in rage again.

Blair had thought that Fred was going to hit Ron when he had looked back down at him, and had risen from her chair just in case. Fred's breathing was jagged and it seemed like he wanted to hit Ron, or anyone for that matter. Blair couldn't help but think about how much Fred looked like he was on fire. The heat coming from him was intense and the redness of his face was only magnified by the way his, slightly static, fiery hair moved with each shaky breath.

He had pushed past all of them and stormed up the stairs after this, slamming his bedroom door so forcefully that the ghoul erupted from the attic and began clanging on the pipes loudly. "What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron could only manage to breathe. They all stood in shock, completely baffled at how things had escalated from Ron holding a letter up to a light, to Fred looking as if he was going to gauge his brothers' eyes out.

Fred only came down from his room in the morning, he would watch for the large blue owl from his bedroom window and as it approached the kitchen window, he would appear at the bottom of the stairs. His lips pressed into a hard line and his body stiff and tense. He would collect his letter from the bird, give the one he had written to it, and then he would return to his room.

It was incredible how just his presence was enough to silence the group. The laughter and chatter all stopped when Fred appeared. They would look away, down at their breakfast or pretend to have a deep interest in the shape of one of the kitchen cabinets. Blair would always look at Fred, but he didn't seem to look at her.

Was this her fault? Was he blaming her for what happened? It certainly felt like it.

Ginny would leave a plate of food at Fred's door for every meal and then collect it when he had finished. It felt like everyone in the house was on edge. No one knew what to expect, Fred didn't join in on anything they did for two days, but they knew he was there. He was only two floors above them and alone. Ron was on edge, as if Fred was going to storm down the stairs and completely batter Ron for no reason.

At the time, Blair had been absolutely heart broken. Something about Harry and Ron's statement that he was writing to a girl felt like it made sense, a lot more sense than Fred's version of the story. And why would he have gotten so angry in a matter of seconds if it was just business related. It felt like she already knew the truth, even though she hadn't spoken to Fred.

Although, as the days went on, and Fred hadn't even looked at her. She felt the need to confront him simmer. She was fearful of his anger, now that she knew exactly how angry he could get, but she was more scared of losing him. Having even a piece of him was better than having none of him. She was in love with him and he had told her that he possibly loved her; and the thought of losing that love was too much to bare.