one sickle ~ f.w.

chapter 34

-- y/n's pov, the morning of the match --

"y/n, i don't think we should do this anymore. it's over."

i scoff. "you can't be serious! why?!" i'm shocked. i don't know what to say, or what to think. my thoughts are flooding out and i can feel tears in my eyes - how could he do this? "tell me why!" i shout.

"there's someone else." fred says, slowly stepping back as if he could just casually leave after this.

i look at him , then around the room , trying to process all of this. suddenly the glass on my bedside table catches my attention . i pick it up, and as i'm about to throw it at him, his eyes widen . "what are you do-"

"ugh!"  the glass hits his chest and then breaks, falling to the ground. he looks at me in pure shock, then quickly runs out, shutting the door behind him.

slam.

i quickly sit up in my bed, i'm tired and my body hurts. it was all a dream, thank god. i wipe my eyes and my hands become wet - i must've been crying in my sleep. as i realise that there's no one else in the dorm, i check my clock and get out of bed.  it'll be weird seeing fred, what with my dream and all that.

once i'm dressed and ready to go, i step out of my dorm and start heading to the library, i need to pick up a couple of books for a history of magic project. i'm not in the best mood but it'll have to do for now. i look around at all the paintings on the walls as i tread slowly down the stairs, each telling their own story.

as i enter the library and start to walk to the section i need, i notice a painting of an middle-aged wizard on the wall next to a window. i think i recognise him, but i'm not exactly sure why. it doesn't mean that much to me at this moment, so i go back to focusing on my project, but as i'm about to continue walking i hear a 'psst!' coming from his direction. i look back and he's motioning for me to come over.

i hesitantly go up to the painting. "what?" i ask.

"are you okay?"

this is the last thing i expect him to say, so i stutter and say the first thing that comes to mind. "wh- uh- yeah, of course. why?" that was such a bad lie.

"you seemed sad." the man replies.

"so? why do you care?" i say, trying to be as nice as possible but finding this very weird.

"i've seen you around with your friends, the twins and that other one."

"fred, george and lee, yes. what's your point?" i say, getting impatient.

"let me finish. it just seems like you haven't been as happy recently, and i wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted to talk to anyone i'm always here - literally. and i won't tell anyone - i know us paintings have a tendency to do so." he tells me.

"right, okay. well, first, who are you to tell me if i'm happy? and second, i just had a nightmare today. i'm fine." i explain.

"what about the other times?"

"what other times- no, that's not important- if you're trying to psychoanalyse me right now, i swear- i-" i stop myself and sigh. i have so much to say about this, but can't get it all out. this is getting tiring. "fine! you made your point. i guess i haven't really talked about my feelings enough recently."

"that's okay, would you like to talk now?" the man offers. he seems more comforting than creepy now.

"actually, i was kinda in the middle of something - but it wouldn't hurt i guess." i pull a chair out and sit down, but then realise i still don't know the man's name. "wait - what's your name? you haven't told me."