I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 53- An Early Graduation

A pink Catherine wheel whirled overhead, screaming as it went. Eleanor covered her head instinctually, watching as it flew across the lake, the vibrant pink reflected in the murky waters below. The sun had finally set, leaving the world hanging between night and day, the deep blue of the sky not yet darkened to black, the stars unable to shine against the dusk canvas.

Eleanor was sprawled upon the grass on the shore of the lake, the water kissing her bare feet as small waves rippled in the wind. Her head rested against George's shoulder, the pair staring up at the fireworks that still burned on. Umbridge had been monumentally unsuccessful in extinguishing any of their many fireworks and none of the other professors, who probably could have figured out the many jinxes and charms they'd spelled the fireworks with, lifted their wands to help.

It was beautiful, the fireworks fighting for airspace in the sky, how much brighter they were now that the daylight had been extinguished. There were still quite a few fireworks trapped inside of Hogwarts, and Eleanor hoped they made their way out soon, if only so they could add themselves to the show.

And so that she could get a goodnight's sleep without fireworks exploding in the Gryffindor common room. But she'd already accepted a sleepless night as the consequence of letting fireworks run rampant through the school, and she believed it to be worth the satisfaction she felt at the moment.

The satisfaction of any and all evening classes canceled.

The satisfaction of chaos and beauty.

The satisfaction of Umbridge's exhaustion as she chased firework after firework out of the castle. As they trampled her, exploded upon her. The defeat that shone brightly in her cold eyes. The tears that had slipped through in her frustration.

Those tears were worth everything.

Fred was lounging to her right, his elbows propping his body up as he watched the fireworks they'd spent years designing dance through the sky, welcoming the night with every passing minute. He was smiling to himself, pride radiating off every pore.

He was the most beautiful she'd ever seen him before. He was glowing, radiant, as he watched. His happiness was infectious, and she found it overwhelming, the emotion of it all. His eyes tracked the show above and hers memorized his face. She never wanted to forget this moment, this feeling, not for the rest of her life. She feared losing grasp of it, scared already of never feeling so peaceful ever again. A high that could never be matched, one she would chase after for the rest of her days.

His eyes slid away from the sky and fell upon her. She tried to look away, to pretend that she hadn't been staring at him so intently, but his eyes held hers in place. She smiled warmly, her heart thundering away in her chest, and he smiled back.

"Beautiful," he murmured. She nodded against George's shoulder, expecting Fred to look back at the sky above, but he didn't. Instead, his gaze stayed glued to her and she found herself questioning what exactly he believed to be so beautiful.

He reached for her hand, gingerly squeezing her fingers. They hadn't spoken about what had gone down in Umbridge's office, before nor after her interruption, although it wasn't for a lack of trying on Fred's part. He'd tried to get her alone, tried to find a time, but she wouldn't allow it. She didn't need to know that he still wasn't interested, that he still couldn't forgive her, that he still couldn't be with her. The whole thing was embarrassing enough.

So, she wouldn't question this gesture either. Wouldn't overthink it as anything more than an act founded from a euphoria of which she was not the cause. He was proud, elated at the firework show they'd created. Nothing more.

But there was a second, one tiny second, in which she thought he might pull her off George's shoulder and into his chest. A hunger in his eyes that suggested it before dissolving away.