sapphire || fred weasley

forty-three

Triggering and mature content, viewer discretion advised.

Beatrice's hands were shaking madly as she gently lifted Fred's blood soaked navy blue jumper, a fearful cry leaving her lips as she saw the several deep gashes covering his freckled toned torso.

He was watching her eyes closely as she inspected the wounds and did his best to remain calm even though her fast breathing and tears were enough distraction for him to freak out.

"What do I Fred?" Beatrice whispered, her hands blood stained with his blood. "I make wands, I don't know any healing spells-"

"Breathe and apply pressure to the wounds alright," he hissed in pain when her trembling hands pressed against his skin. "I'll be fine but I need you to not panic love because if you do, I might start panicking and that won't be good for either of us."

"Fred I don't have enough hands for the amount of wounds," Beatrice took deep breaths to calm down. There were five large cuts. Panic flooded her mind, unable to think about anything but the fact that we was going to bleed out to death.

"Love, breathe," he insisted. "Go and check quickly who the death eater was."

"I won't leave your side," she shook her head.

"Go Beatrice, I'll still be bleeding out even if you're gone for five seconds," he tried joking but only earned a scowl in response from her.

"Don't you fucking joke about that Fred Weasley, it's not funny," she said sharply and stood up, quickly making her way towards the masked man who lied unconsciously on the other side of the bathroom.

She carefully approached him and lifted off his mask, the man's familiar features pale as his eyes remained open. "It's Rosier," Bea inspected the man's face and felt a shiver ran down her spine as she stared into his open eyes. "It's him."

"Does he have a pulse?" Fred asked and saw her leaning down to press to fingers on the man's neck.

"No," she shook her head and made her way back to him to keep her hands pressed on two of the large gashes. "There was blood coming out of his head. I think his skull cracked when he hit his head with the wall."

"Shit," groaned. "I'd say that I'm sorry but he tried drugging you so I'm not, but I reckon the Order won't be too happy with me."

"Fred, this isn't the first person you've, you know," she whispered applied more pressure to his wounds.

"Are you hurt?" he avoided her question and saw her fearful eyes darkening.

"No, you took the bloody curse for me you bloody idiot," she hissed. "You should have let it hit me! I don't know what to do-"

"Breathe Beatrice," he repeated. "A panic attack is the last thing that will help me now, knowing that I won't be able to talk you through it. Are you strong enough to apparate us out of here?"

"Yeah," she nodded quickly and took both of his hands. "Just hold on tightly okay."

"I will," Fred smiled softly and closed his eyes.

They landed in her flat a second later and as carefully as she could, Bea helped Fred lie on her sofa before pressing her blood stained hands on his chest again.

"Poppy is a healer right?" Fred asked, his breathing shallow and unsteady, the apparition and loss of blood already taking their toll on him.

"Yes."

"Cast a patronus and tell her to come," Fred moved both of his hands with much difficulty to press on the two largest wounds, one across his chest and another one on his abdomen.