sapphire || fred weasley

twelve

Beatrice hadn't given much thought to the small but heated confrontation she had had with Aster and Emmeline the week prior in Malfoy Manor. In all honesty, she couldn't give less of a shit about the fucked up relationship that Aster and Emmeline had and even though, she herself had it clear that things had ended between her and the white-haired boy, he hadn't been actually able to grasp onto that.

An eagle owl tapping her bedroom window had become a daily occurrence, which she graciously ignored no matter that it was driving Amelia insane. Lately, everything that Beatrice could think about was Fred. The feeling of his lips on hers. The feeling of his warm touch that somehow made her feel safe. The sound of his laugh and the color of his eyes. Just thinking of him, in both innocent and more sinful manners, made the butterflies in her heart flutter crazily. She wanted, no, she needed him.

Friday night, Cedric was throwing another party at his place and upon her arrival, Beatrice had made the decision of getting absolutely shitfaced. Theo was alright now and Amelia was in charge so they would be fine on their own if she decided no to get back home. Her grandfather was also doing better so that wouldn't be an issue either. And again, since Theo's relapse two and a half months ago, Bea had been keeping her distance from everything but alcohol and weed.

Beatrice had been sitting on the couch in between Cecillia and Adrian for hours, but she felt so numb and so mentally exhausted that in reality, it felt like days. Staring blankly at the wall that was the first thing her eyes could focus on, she kept drinking from the tequila bottle she had managed to get a hold of. She couldn't even hear the music any longer as her brain decided to work against her. Instead of numbing her conscience as she had expected it, the tequila was only fueling it to be louder.

Taking matters into her own hands, Bea went for something stronger that she knew wouldn't fail to drown the little voice inside her head that drove her mad at times. She stood up from the couch and made her way towards the kitchen, pushing the boys that had thrown themselves at her like savages and pushing past the girls who refused to move. Finally reaching the kitchen, Beatrice took the fullest bottle of fire whiskey that she could find, which wasn't really fair since it was only halfway empty.

She took that first sip of the amber liquid and winced the moment it went down her throat. She had always hated that first drink. The first drink that made her throat feel as if it was on fire. Fred had been talking to a girl all night, doing his best to ignore Beatrice since he didn't know how to approach her first, and also considering that she had been disregarding him for two weeks on end. Watching her from afar, he could see the way her moonlit face scrunched up as she drank the bottle without stopping to breathe and felt the worry in his head increasing for her.

"Sorry but I can't do this, it was nice talking to you though," he said apologetically to the girl whose name he had already forgotten and quickly went into the kitchen to check on her. "Love, don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

"The last sip is the best," she answered and didn't dare to meet his eyes as she finished the bottle, feeling it already drowning the voice inside her head. Inhibiting her senses. Inhibiting her mouth's filter and her rationality.

"Bea, are you feeling alright?" he asked and took her hand into his, noticing how cold her body temperature was, despite the amount of alcohol she had just consumed.

"Have you ever sat down to think how shitty your life has been?" she looked at him straight in the eyes as a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

"I haven't, and you're drunk," he said softly and gently brushed the stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"So what?" she whispered. "That doesn't take the fact that I've had a shitty life, and that it will continue to be shitty until the day I drop dead."