Obliviate ; Fred Weasley

Eighty

Disgusting.

Disgusting.

Disgusting.

Disgusting.
Disgusting.
Disgusting.
Disgusting.
Disgusting.

I locked myself in the bathroom, using the excuse that I had to pee, but now I sat on the toilet seat, trying to forget about what just happened.

Him all over me.

Me allowing him to fuck me on the kitchen counter. Me moaning his name and faking an orgasm to make it seem real.

I hated it.

I hated myself.

Fred was going to hate me.

I cheated on my husband.

He'll hate me.
He'll hate me.
He'll hate me.

He will hate me.

"Kai?" Theodore called, knocking on the bathroom door. "You okay in there?"

"I'll be out in a minute!" I called, getting off the toilet seat.

I turned on the water in the sink, splashing some in my face.

"Fuck." I whispered, shaking my head, and then I looked down at my slight baby bump. "I'm doing this for you."

I shut my eyes, leaning on the sink.

"There's no way in hell I'm giving birth to you in this place."

I dried off my face before I walked out of the bathroom, my eyes locking with Theodore's.

He was leaning against the wall opposite of the bathroom, waiting for me, but there was something hard about the way he looked at me.

"What were you doing in there?" He asked, tilting his head. "I heard you talk to someone."

My eyes widened slightly.

"I was talking to the baby." I said, placing a hand against my stomach.

I was praying to god that he hadn't heard what I said.

"So you're starting to bond?" He asked with a smile, stepping towards me. "Good. That's good."

He placed his hand against my jaw, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead.

"Let's get baking then." He said, leading the way into the kitchen.

We worked together on mixing together the dough, and while I was putting in the flour and baking soda, I glanced at Theodore, a question lingering on my tongue.

"Can I ask you a question?"

His eyes flicked to mine, and he leaned his hip on the counter while offering me a friendly smile.

"Sure."

I inhaled sharply, biting my lip, and when I let go of it again, I decided to just ask the question and get it over with.

"What was your childhood like?"

There has to be some reason for the way he and his brothers turned out.

Theodore stared at me for a moment too long, so long that I started being scared of his reaction.

I didn't know if he was going to hit me.

But then he exhaled, and rolled his shoulders.

"My dad wasn't that great dad he seemed like to people outside of the family." He said. "But my mum is awesome. She's always been the perfect mother."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He breathed. "But my dad... well, he used to beat the shit out of us if we misbehaved."

I paused, looking up at him.

I had no idea their dad did that. I had know their dad my entire life. I thought Noel was a great guy.

"Once, he broke Gideon's arm, and healed it again so no one would find out." Theodore added, shrugging. "But I haven't seen the psycho for years, so I don't worry about him."

-

Fred

"Freddie..."

I had grown used to being sighed over. Every time someone spoke to me, they'd sigh if I didn't answer, if I refused to eat what they offered me.

It was always like this.

They never left me alone, and I desperately wanted to be left alone.

I was sitting on the floor next to her side of the bed. I had pushed the nightstand away and I was sitting against the wall, my eyes focused on the weather outside.

It was raining.

My fingers were clutched around a shirt. The same shirt she had slept in that same day. She never put it away before she left for work. She had thrown it on the bed, and then when she got home, we had sex instead of eating pizza and then she wanted to go take a shower.

But the shirt still smelled of her.

Months later, and I still slept with that shirt tugged to my chest, pressed against my nose. I didn't let go of it.

I took it with me to work, because I was still forced to work. I couldn't leave George to run the shop all on his own, but I spent a lot of time in my office, crying while hugging the shirt, remembering the way she smells.

"Can you just eat this, please?" George asked and went to sit on the side of the bed when I held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't!" I shouted, and he froze. "You can't sit there. You can sit on the other side, but don't touch hers."

"Fred for fuck sake..." George sighed before he sat on the floor instead, sitting across from me.

He waved a granola bar at me.

"You need to eat something. You've lost too much weight, mate. This isn't healthy."

I reached out and snatched the granola bar from his hand, opening it before I took a bite.

"I'm worried about you." George said. "You rarely eat. You—"

He sighed.

"You haven't slept in your own bed ever since she disappeared. You don't touch the bed. It's been unmade for three months. You just sit here, next to her side and you clutch that shirt of hers in your hand, and I know... I know you're hurting, but this isn't helping anything. We will find her, okay?"

I didn't answer, and he sighed.

They always sigh.

"Alright then." George got to his feet. "I'll get you something to drink. You're way too dehydrated."

His footsteps disappeared as he left my bedroom, and I shut my eyes to hold the tears back.

I pressed the material of the shirt to my nose, and I let the scent surround me.