Remember Me [ Fred Weasley ]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 / 𝑼𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒅

{ Song: enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo }

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

The change of seasons is proof that nothing lasts forever. To some, this is the only hope; that this, too, will pass. To others, it is the very core of what creates a fear of losing an illusion. The problem is when we don't want to settle for a few months of winter or spring, but when we want years that are never promised or ours to keep.

This is the kind of spring that feels like waking up well rested on a Sunday morning. Despite the exams getting closer every day, the whole school seems to have been brought a newfound quality to life. The promise of a new beginning is shining through the windows of the dorms as if the rays of the golden sun is proof that the school year is coming to an end. Most of the students seem happy; happy that there is more light across the sky, happy about the birds singing in the courtyards and happy about the optimistic future that the change of seasons bring.

Everything is changing in the spring, almost as if the world is starting over. A part of me can feel it too; the presentiment that tells you that something wonderful might happen. However, it's not enough to take away the pain that the past weeks have imprinted into a third degree burn inside my chest. It's not enough to help me forgive nor forget and it is not enough to bring back what used to be the love of my life.

The one thing about this time of the year that is less exciting than everything else is the pressure of the exams that only look scarier the closer they get. The library is more crowded than ever and the best chance of getting a place to study is the free morning periods, which is exactly what I have been doing whenever I get the chance. Unlike when I first shifted, getting a hold of studying magic has become easier and it feels a lot like regular school rather than an impossible task, although it is a lot more fun.

This morning is an unusually calm one, allowing the golden rays of sunshine to dress the library in a warm light and making the dust on the shelves almost look like thin layers of snow. My notes on the parchment are finally beginning to look organised and understandable, making the stress of the high ambitions ease a little.

The very back of the library has offered me a safe and quiet place, which makes the sound of footsteps approaching me catch my attention.

For a split second I lose my breath when a familiar boy, who brings a lot of memories along with his presence, walks towards me. A combination of relief and disappointment washes over me when I realise that the red headed boy is not Fred but George, and I eye him curiously once we make eye contact as he makes his way over to the table.

"Got a minute?" he asks, "It's about Fred"

"If you're here to run his errands then no, I'm busy" I say shortly, "You don't have to do this George, he fucked up but it's not your responsibility to fix his mess"

Without paying attention to my response, he sits down on the opposite side of the table with his elbows resting on its surface. He clasps his fingers together and takes a deep breath as if what he is about to say is troublesome, a conversation that he doesn't want to have.

Annoyed by the way he didn't care about the chance I had given him to get out of the situation, I tap my quill impatiently against the parchment and stare down at the book to make sure that he understands that I intend to ignore him.

"Look, I don't know if it matters to you at all but it turns out he didn't do it" George says and I glance up at him a little too quickly with a questioning expression on my face, "Veritaserum, no one else cared enough to hear him out but I had to know"