To Bet On Losing Dogs {Fred Weasley, ACT II}

Chapter Five

Eleanor was tiring of her escape artist act. She assumed the people around her were too. How many times would she force others to call out her name? Beg her to stay? Her name, drawn out in exasperation, was becoming a form of goodbye.

Maybe she should turn around. Stay long enough to hear the apology. Accept said apology with grace and admit her own faults. That would be the mature thing to do. Surely, it would be healthy for her relationships if she stopped running away every time someone hurt her feelings.

Did it make it worse that she was self-aware? She knew why she didn't stay. Knew the words that would leave her mouth if she did would be venom. Leaving fractured her relationships but she worried staying would implode them.

Just as she had yelled at Hermione last year.

Or the Weasleys after Sirius had died.

Sometimes that little voice in her head won. Sometimes it took her harbored pain and transferred it to others in the form of poetic violence. But that voice had quieted down a lot since Sirius.

And so, she stood outside the door to the loft, unsure if she should truly leave. She probably wouldn't explode. Didn't have it in her. She probably would accept an apology. No one had done anything to even warrant the necessity of one.

But she'd caused a scene. Made the evening about her. Again. It would be embarrassing to turn right around and plop back down on the couch. It would be defeat.

But maybe she was just passed caring about such things.

She had a hesitant hand on the doorknob, her thoughts echoing off one another as memories warred, when she felt the soft trace of fingertips looping around her arm.

"Fuck," she cursed, startling as she turned to face the red head behind her, his freckled face contorted in concern, "you scared me, Fred."

Fred's mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. "Not my fault you startle easy."

"Everyone should startle easy these days. Hyper-vigilance is key."

"You sound like Moody," Fred sighed. "Is that what happened to your, er, face?"

"Auror training is hard. I'm not very good at it." Eleanor looked past Fred and down the stairwell that led to the store below. "Shouldn't you be working? You missed the meeting."

He shrugged, turning his head in an attempt to recenter himself in her line of sight. "It's fine. I left Tina in charge."

"Tina?"

"A salesperson we hired. She'll be fine. I just... you can't walk in here with a black eye and expect me to just sit here idly. I wanted to check on you. You look-"

"Awful. I look awful. I've been told, thanks." The anger she had quelled was beginning to return. Slightly. Because when she looked at Fred, she was reminded that it had been his idea to appear as a couple with Angelina. And he knew that would make her see red. She had said enough, she had shown enough. He knew better.

Men always know better. And they always do it anyway.

"You could never look awful." Fred tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, her ponytail having come more and more undone as the day went by. "You just look... painful."

"I look painful?"

Fred grimaced. "I mean... you just don't look healthy."

"I'd like to see how you'd fair coming out of an hours long dueling match with Moody."

"Oh please, you know I can pull off one hell of a black eye. In fact, I'd say it in enhances my features. An added plus to an already incredibly chiseled face."