sapphire || fred weasley

eighty-eight

Triggering content, viewer discretion advised.

March, 1996

Beatrice sat on a secluded sofa in the Ravenclaw common room. Music was booming, bodies were dancing in the middle of the room as the alcohol supply flowed steadily around.

Beatrice was gripping her red plastic cup filled of neat fire whiskey as if her life depended on it, because it did.

The loud music and voices sounded muffled, her thoughts too loud and invasive for her to concentrate in anything else other than her own mind.

Dark bags were settled underneath her eyes. She hadn't slept properly in days.

Her back and joint ached terribly, her muscles spasming every once in a while, making her look as if she was jolting after being caught by surprise or something of the sort.

She nervously scratched her throat after the feeling returned. She wanted to scream every time she felt it. It was as if invisible aunts were crawling all over under her skin.

Beatrice had been detached from reality for the past two weeks. She had stopped after Theo's second overdose.

In the span of only three months, he had managed to relapse and overdose again, but this particular time he had been by himself rather than with his friends.

She had found him passed out, completely unconscious and dried vomit on the carpet and the corner of his mouth. She realized that in order to help him, she needed to pause her dependency herself.

For the past two weeks, she had felt her vision blurring and refused to speak more than a couple sentences at a time. She felt as if her tongue had been tied somehow, slurring the way the words tumbled away from her lips.

She didn't feel like herself.

Surprisingly, the fire whiskey had eased the nausea slightly. She had been throwing up days after stopping, masking it by saying that it was nothing but a stomach bug.

The panic attacks and the delirium were the worst part. She was paranoid.

She wasn't able to focus properly on anything. Her grades had somewhat dropped after not turning in assignments for the different classes she took.

But the sadness felt overwhelming. Her mind was not at easy anymore without the little calming white pills.

The sofa's other cushion sank, making her jolt after being snapped away from her thoughts. She snapped her head to glare at none other than Fred Weasley, who now sat by her side with a cigarette between his fingers and a cup of fire whiskey being held by his free hand. 

"Nott," he acknowledged her presence with a small nod, taking a sip from him drink.

"Can I help you?" her bright blue eyes burned a hole through his temple.

"The seat was empty, so I sat," he shrugged her off.

"You're insufferable," Beatrice said through gritted teeth.

"Because I sat my arse down on an empty seat?" Fred raised his brows amusedly at her.

"Just stop talking," she clenched her jaw and took another long sip from the amber liquid inside her cup, welcoming the burning in her throat with a barely noticeable wince.