Chapter 21- The First Secret

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It was late March 1994. Fifth year. The hint of spring was in the air, but Eleanor had never felt colder. Everywhere Eleanor looked there were signs of Fred and Angelina's budding romance. Angelina was missing from her bed in the girl's dormitory most nights. Eleanor promised herself she would stop looking over at the empty bed before closing her bed hangings, but she had yet to follow through. She fell asleep every night with a now dull, but ever present, ache in her heart.

Some days were worse than others. The worst seemed to come in the smallest of things. Two weekends ago Angelina had returned to the girl's dormitory in the knitted jumper Mrs. Weasley made for her children (and her honorary Potter children) every Christmas. The sight of Angelina wearing something of Fred's, the knitted F sitting proudly upon her chest, was enough to drive Eleanor from the rest of her friends for the weekend. She sat in the library, alone with the smell of old, dusty books, until Alicia joined her Sunday evening. Alicia didn't say anything, but Eleanor had a feeling she knew why she had tucked herself away.

Eleanor found pain in every little detail. The way Fred leaned in to listen to Angelina at mealtimes. The way they mixed up their ties. Fred complimenting Angelina's Quidditch performances at practices. Their little jokes that no one else understood. Fred carrying Angelina's books to class. Angelina letting Fred copy her homework. Eleanor used to let Fred copy her homework, but at this point she was hardly turning homework in herself. She spent too much time either watching Fred and Angelina or replaying their interactions in her head to focus on something as irrelevant as school.

Sometimes Eleanor wondered if Fred Weasley was a master manipulator, if he was just an evil little fuck. Because every time she tried to move on, he pulled her right back in. To anyone who asked, Fred would proclaim, his voice firm, that Angelina was not his girlfriend. They were just having some fun. To drive the point home, he'd promise he had no intentions of ever dating Angelina. And Eleanor would hate him. She hated him because if that was true, Angelina surely had no idea. She hated him because every time he said it, she found herself hoping again. She hated him because he made her hate herself for rooting for Angelina's downfall.

She hated him because she was in love with him. And she wasn't sure if she even wanted to be anymore. He no longer felt like her Fred. In fact, she hardly recognized the person he was becoming. She never pinned him as the heartbreak type. But Fred Weasley was bound to break Angelina's heart and he'd already torn hers to shreds.

Merlin, she hated him.

And she loved him.

So, so much.

She ignored him at times. She joined the Defense Against the Dark Arts club with Alfie and Alicia. Lupin was the club's mentor and for a time it provided a decent distraction. That was until Fred and Angelina joined. Then she stopped attending the meetings entirely. So, she spent time with Iris, asking for help with Muggle Studies. Iris was Muggle-born, and she taught Eleanor a great deal. They'd go through the Muggle clothes Iris brought from home, trying them on in turn and planning a great shopping trip to London over the summer. But Iris loved to gossip and the most interesting topic of discussion for the Gryffindor fifth years was Angelina and Fred. And so Eleanor began to avoid Iris, if only to avoid hearing about Fred.

The person Eleanor missed the most was George. She took advantage of every moment in which George was without his counterpart. They'd think up things they wished Zonko's had, dreaming about the day when they could possibly own a joke shop of their own. They'd scribble down ideas in Eleanor's old, tattered notebook. They'd laugh about stupid things, talk about Quidditch, make fun of their professors and their friends, and give their best attempts at studying. But Fred always showed up sooner or later. And in his presence, his presence that was so dowsed in everything Angelina, she couldn't find it in her to think creatively or find hope for a future down the road.

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