sapphire || fred weasley

one hundred three

October 23rd, 2000

"Bea?"

"Beatrice."

Voices sounded as if they we underwater. She couldn't breathe.

It was all too much.

Her dress felt constricting. Like a large snake wrapping itself around her throat and squeezing all the air out of her.

She and Fred would end up hating each other if they went through with it.

That's how marriages worked. It was all sunshine and daisies until one day it wasn't.

Until all that was left was mutual hatred and resentment.

And the only solution out of it was death.

Her mother had said so when she was four during her official betrothal party to Marcus Flint.

The only way out was death.

"I can't do it," her voice came high pitched and cracked as she tried to stabilize her breathing.

"What's going on?" George came inside the house with a worried expression. "Cee and Adrian said you were coming already."

"I can't," Beatrice panted and twirled her engagement ring around her finger. "He'll hate me if we do this."

"I don't follow," George frowned.

"I'm pretty sure she's having a panic attack of some sort," Graham mumbled.

"So is there going to be a wedding or now?" Cedric asked.

"Oh course there's going to be a wedding!" Poppy exclaimed. "Cold feet is normal B, everything will be okay when you see him standing there."

"This is a mistake," Beatrice shook her head. "I can't do it."

"What about this," George hesitated. "I'll get Fred and you two can talk about it, and then decide if there'll be a wedding or not."

"It's bad luck-"

"Get him," Beatrice nodded quickly, interrupting Poppy in the process.

"Where is she?" Fred bursted into the house not five minutes later, seeing Poppy resting her head on Graham's shoulder and Cedric pacing around the room.

"Upstairs," the three answered and saw the redhead quickly rush to the upstairs floor.

"Tris?" he knocked softly on the door of her room. "Love, it's me."

"Come in," she said quietly and went back to staring out the window as he came inside the room.

Fred felt the air leaving his lungs the moment he looked at her.

She looked perfect.

His whole body swarmed with butterflies, fluttering their wings all over his stomach and heart as he sat next to her and pressed a kiss on her exposed shoulder.

"Talk to me," he whispered, his chin resting on her shoulder as she kept refusing to meet his eyes.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Beatrice sighed, catching him completely off guard.

"How come?" Fred asked, his fingers stroking her arm soothingly.

"Because every marriage I've ever seen ends up in disaster," she turned around to face him.