Both Of You | Fred and George Weasley |

The Truth

A couple days later, I'm sitting at lunch with Hermione and Nevill while studying History. Ron approaches us, looking furious. So mad, that even we got scared.

He slammed my books shut and took my pencil out of my hand and threw it on the floor. He then turned to Hermione and gave her the death stare, then turned around and walked out of the area. Every movement he did made me flinch.

About 15 students were staring at the sudden strike of anger out of one of the sweetest boys at Hogwarts.

At that moment, I was hyperventilating, feeling very scared and almost started to cry. I didn't know why I was feeling so sensitive, until I realized it was because I was expecting to get beat. I guess Hermione destroyed my mental health as well. Nevill noticed it and started to get very worried.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this-"

I just got up and followed Ron, who was walking very fast.

I had to run to catch up to him, but when I did, he just stood. I then realized he lured me somewhere. It took me a couple seconds to see that he lured me to Fred and George under the tree outside the Forbidden Forest. Tears were already streaming down my face from when he slammed my book.

"Sit down" Ron said, with no emotion.

I immediately sat down on my knees. They all sat down as well.

"Tell is the truth" Fred said.

"What does Hermione do to you when you're alone?" Continued Ron.

I stayed quiet. I didn't know what to say.

'Just tell them'

'Fine'

"Y/N-"

I immediately cut George off.

"SHE BEATS ME"

I yelled.

So loud.

But I don't care anymore, how could I? Finally, I don't have to hold in this pressure that has been weighing me down since forever.

"SHE'S BEEN BEATING ME"

I couldn't stop yelling.

"PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, AND MENTALLY"

I paused to catch my breath, which was slow and shaky.

"... for years" I said lowly.

"And you kept this from us?" I look up to see Ron say this, with no shock, sympathy, pity, nothing. Just disappointment, which broke my heart.

"WHY WOULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US?!" Ron shouted. I've never heard him yell before.

I got scared.

Ron noticed, but he still didn't stop.

"YOU DO REALIZE THAT WE'VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH HER ALL THIS TIME, RIGHT?"

He just kept going on.

"WE'VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH YOUR ABUSER, AND YOU SAID NOTHING"

My head started to hurt.

"I EVEN ASKED YOU"

"I COULD'VE PROTECTED YOU"

"WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU?"

"WHY DID YOU KEEP LYING?"

"I WOULD'VE HELPED YOU AVOID HER. I WOULD'VE BEATEN HER MYSELF"

"Y/N... are you okay?"

"Y/N?? FRED, HELP HER"

"OH SHIT-"

I woke up in the hospital wing, looking around.

'I must've fainted. That's the only explanation'

No one was there, which kind of made me upset.

I thought my friends would be here, but I guess they were too mad.

Until Hermione came in the hospital wing.

Then I wished I was alone again.

'I'm gonna die'

She walked up to my bed and slapped me so hard across the face. Blood started coming out of my nose. She punched my stomach, then slapped me once again.

"YOU TOLD THEM?"

I couldn't even respond.

She pulled me out of bed by my hair and took me to an empty classroom.

She threw me inside and silenced the room. I was terrified, knowing if she had to silence the room, I probably wouldn't survive.

She threw me, face first on the floor and started kicking all around my body. My entire body was shaking as I just laid there, crying and screaming.

She pulled me off the floor by my hair, just to throw me back down again. She did this countless times in a row.

She picked me up one last time, not to throw me, but to punch me.

She started to punch my stomach, repeatedly saying "don't puke". Instead of puking, I coughed.

"Blood?"

I froze.

I immediately looked down to see blood all over her outfit. 'I coughed that up?'

After an hour and a half (I think that's how long it went), she finally stopped. She kicked my face one last time before she left me there, lying on the floor, crying and heavily breathing.

For hours, I laid there, feeling numb and worthless.

I couldn't help but think:

'Why am I living?'