I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 40- Lost Memories

Eleanor tossed and turned that night wondering.

Wondering how many memories Fred had made it through before being interrupted.

Wondering if he'd stolen the Pensive from Dumbledore's office to go through them all.

Wondering exactly which memories were in that tiny vial and if she'd have to spend more time extracting the rest from Fred's brain.

Wondering if they'd get back together now that she'd given up the small ounce of control she had over the prophecy. Over the war.

Wondering if he'd be able to forgive her now that she'd given him his one desire. It didn't seem likely, but it didn't stop her from wondering all the same.

She too found herself replaying their memories in her head. The good, the bad, the ugly. All though those six months didn't have an ounce of ugly. All their fighting bled away the moment they'd admitted the truth to one another. Their lies, their heartache, had created a monster, but their love had conquered it. Eleanor smiled to herself, a small part of her wishing she'd stayed to watch the memories with him. They had been her present after all.

But she still had her own memories, and they were good enough. So, she closed her eyes and played them back against the dark of her eyelids.

December 26th, 1994

She awoke to the sound of heavy, even breathing and to the weight of an arm draped across her side, pulling her close. But most importantly, she awoke to the most unusual feeling, one she had not felt throughout most of her life – that of peace. Tranquility. Calm. No nightmares, no dread. Serenity.

She must still be dreaming. She knew the bed was not hers from the scent alone, if not from the warm body laying next to her. She knew the shirt she was wearing was not hers from the length, from the hole in the armpit. She knew where she was, but she couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true.

Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping boy next to her, she turned to face him. There in all his glory was Fred Weasley. Light shone through a small gap in the bed hangings, illuminating his freckled face. She smiled despite herself, hoping that he wouldn't wake up to catch her watching him sleep, but she could have stayed like that forever. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. She wanted to memorize the patterns of the freckles that scattered his body, like constellations in the night sky, and then trace her fingers along them to feel the electricity that came along with grazing stars.

She wasn't sure what the night before had even meant. He'd told her he loved her, and she him, but they hadn't clarified anything. They'd danced and kissed and danced and kissed before heading back to Gryffindor Tower and wishing the other goodnight at the foot of the dormitory steps. As soon as Eleanor sat on the edge of her bed, she felt a yearning so intense that it short-circuited her brain, taking the reins and forcing her feet to run from her room, down the stairs, through the common room, up another set of stairs, and to Fred's room where he sat with a smile on his face as though he were expecting her.

They didn't have sex. Not that Eleanor was opposed, but they'd been tired. And besides, Fred's dormitory didn't stay empty for long. They heard many comings and goings, giggling to themselves as the other boys went because they weren't in on the secret. It was fun, pretending not be there, sneaking kisses as drawers slammed shut and toilets flushed. They simply stayed in each other's arms, smiling stupidly, until they fell asleep. Sleep itself took a while to come in all the excitement, but eventually she felt so warm, so safe wrapped up in Fred that it took root in her. A part of her wished she'd stayed awake to drink in the feeling but waking up to him was a different kind of intoxicating.