I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 8- These Violent Delights

Eleanor bolted upright. She was lying in her bed at Grimmauld Place, still wearing the same clothes she had worn to see Harry. Looking out her bedroom window, she could see the streetlamps flickering in the darkness. Her room, which had originally been Regulus's, was engulfed in darkness.

She lit the candles in her room with a swish of her wand, illuminating the Slytherin clad walls. Regulus had decorated his room entirely in Slytherin colors. While she was successful in burning away many of the articles chronicling Voldemort's rise to power, of which Regulus had attached to his walls, she hadn't been as successful with the Slytherin paraphernalia.

She felt groggy and she wondered vaguely how long she'd been out. If she had to guess, judging from the sky outside her window, it had only been a few hours. Did she pass out? It had all come on so suddenly, the feeling so artificial...

"If you do leave this house again without permission, we will have to take drastic measures to keep you here."

Dumbledore's warning. The butterbeer. He spiked the fucking butterbeer.

Eleanor felt her indignation bubbling. He put a sleeping drought in the butterbeer he gave her, and when she didn't drink it fast enough, someone hexed her with thirst. Probably Snape, she thought bitterly, he was behind her at the time.

It was all coming together. The reason Sirius, Lupin, and Bill wouldn't make eye contact with her came down to their discomfort in slipping her a potion. Maybe she deserved it, for sneaking off again and breaking the rules, but this seemed overly harsh. These were people she trusted with every ounce of her soul, and they tricked her. Even Bill... Even Sirius...

She felt sick. She swung her legs over her bed, standing up too fast and falling back with a headrush. Regaining her composure, she stood and walked to the door. Her rage fueled her every step. She was surprised when she swung the door open, having assumed they would have locked the door for good measure. She was bounding down the stairs, fists clenched, when she heard a frenzy of voices. Pausing briefly, she changed direction and started for the source of the commotion.

Ron's bedroom door was closed, but a multitude of voices were mummering from within. She grasped the doorknob, ready to burst into the room, when she heard a familiar voice. She forgot her anger for a fraction of a second, listening closely. It couldn't be, but it sounded exactly like...

"Harry!" Eleanor gasped as she opened the door.

There before her stood her younger brother looking just as angry as she felt. His expression softened slightly at the sight of her.

"You're awake," Ron stated, incredulously. He glanced at Hermione, worry dripping from both of their faces.

"Good catch Ron!" Eleanor replied, "when did you get here, Harry?"

"Tonight," Harry said, "I was wondering why you didn't come back but everyone said you've been confined to your room..."

"Why did I get in so much trouble if they were just going to pick you up tonight!" She exclaimed, looking to Fred and George for answers, both of whom sat in the back of the room shifting in discomfort.

"Er, well, you see," George said slowly, choosing his words with care, "it's been four days."

"Four days?"

"Four days," Fred confirmed.

"I've been snuffed out in my room for four days?"

There was a general mummer of affirmation.

"They knocked me out for FOUR DAYS! FOUR FUCKING DAYS!"

Absolute rage coursed throughout Eleanor's body, surpassing the original anger she felt when she had awoken. She burst out of the doorway and down the stairs. She wanted to scream.

"They're in a meeting!" Hermione gasped after her, all the occupants from Ron and Harry's room filing out onto the landing.

Eleanor didn't need to cast a spell to open the door to the basement. She didn't need to consider what spell would undo the enchantments that had been placed upon it. All Eleanor had to do was imagine the door bursting open, and it did as she commanded. She spared no backward glances to her friends as she bounded into the dining room. She spared no thoughts to the possible consequences of this course of action.

"So," Eleanor began, her voice dripping with contempt, "how has everyone been?"

All heads turned toward Eleanor. No one looked entirely shocked to see her, nor did they appear surprised by her abrupt entrance.

"Eleanor..." Sirius began, standing up from his seat at the table.

"I don't want to hear anything from you! Did you know what they planned to do? Were you apart of it? Did you play any part in poisoning James and Lily Potter's daughter? I wonder what my dad would say if he were here right now. Do you think he'd be glad he made you my godfather?"

"Eleanor, that's enough-" Lupin began.

"Because if you ask me, I think he'd be pretty disappointed in you. Both of you! His two best friends, drugging his daughter. It would have been one thing for you to have trapped me in this house while I was conscious, but to just completely knock me out? How could I ever trust any of you again! What the actual fuck is wrong with you all!"

Eleanor was screaming. She could taste the words in her mouth; she could taste the malice she felt. Spewing venom like this didn't taste bad like one would hope it would. It didn't burn her throat to yell so fiercely. It slipped out with ease, tasting sweet as sugar on her lips. She was intoxicated by her anger. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to make them feel the betrayal.

"FOUR DAYS! FOUR DAYS YOU LEFT ME UNCONCIOUS! YOU DRUGGED A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL! I WAS SCARED AND YOU DECIDED THAT THE BEST COURSE OF ACTION WAS JUST TO REMOVE THE PROBLEM COMPLETELY. YOU COULDN'T THINK OF ANOTHER SINGLE WAY TO HELP ME? DO YOU THINK I'LL EVER RESPECT ANY OF YOU AGAIN?"

"You have to calm down-"

But it was too late for calm. The room around her began to glow orange, and Eleanor became vaguely aware that the room was engulfed in flames. The fire spiraled uncontrollably down the long, wooden table in front of her. It kissed the walls, and danced along the floor, shooting a straight path back towards herself.

"Eleanor!" Bill's voice sounded faint, as though he were calling out to her from another realm entirely.

She felt warm, but not unpleasantly so. It began at her feet, creeping through her veins like a shot of whiskey. The room continued to burn, and it felt right. Faces and voices faded from her senses and nothing else mattered. All that mattered was that she continue feeling the warmth that was radiating through her body.

And suddenly, she could hear again, a singular voice calling her back, "Ella, Ella, ELLA..."

And slowly, she could see again. For those few moments, the world consisted of only fire and Fred Weasley. She was okay with such a world. There was comfort in such violent tranquility.

And then she could feel again. His hands were cupping her face, the gesture gentle but his expression desperate. She wasn't thinking about the warmth of the flames anymore, all she could focus on was the feeling of his hands on her face. She wondered how it would feel to press her lips against his while the world burned.

And abruptly, she could think again. The flames lost their comforting warmth, and instead she was burning. She burned with such a ferocious pain that she gasped, falling forward onto Fred. The fire extinguished itself at once and the world came back into full view.

The real world was full of nothing but pain.