Roses and Riots | f. weasley

Chapter 64: Secrets

A/N: Hey loves! Thank you for your patience with me, things have been so busy lately and I haven't had the time or energy to put in the love I feel this story deserves. But finally, here's the next chapter!

Mature content ahead...you're so welcome.

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One evening, early in October, Emilia lay on her bed in silence, not even a book in her hand to distract her from her overwhelming thoughts.

In fact, the ceiling was very entertaining to her that day, with its bare plaster and wooden edges. Very entertaining indeed.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Fred stuck his head in, "hey, love."

"Hey," she replied weakly, not looking away from the ceiling.

She was worried about Harry, Ron and Hermione, having not heard from them in seven weeks.

She should be there with them, helping them, and instead she was lying there without anything to do. The anxiety and guilt was eating her alive, being completely helpless and unable to do anything to help their cause while she was there in the Burrow, safe and out of harm's way.

Fred walked into the room and shut the door behind him, and then he undressed from his work jacket, tie, and waistcoat, and climbed onto the bed to lie beside her.

She immediately turned into him, seeking his warmth and comfort. She felt the tightness in her chest loosen as he pulled her to his side, his arms wrapped around her as she lay her head on his chest.

"You need to stop feeling responsible for them, they're not kids anymore," he said softly as he took the hand she had rested on his chest and pressed her knuckles to his lips, and then he gently traced his thumb over the back of it.

"I'm stuck here, Fred, no job and no way of helping. I'm completely useless," she replied, closing her eyes with a sigh of resignation, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"You're not useless, Emilia. Maybe you don't need to help, maybe you just need to stay safe and-"

"Fred."

She leaned back to face him and fixed him with a look he knew too well, and typically tried to avoid.

He let out a long breath of resignation, "I know, love. Wishful thinking on my part. I know."

"I just wish there was something I could do, I just feel so helpless," she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. She refused to cry, she had spent too many tears on her own feeling of powerlessness.

Fred tightened his arms around her and kissed her head and stroked her hair. He secretly felt useless, unable to take away her pain, and could understand what she felt being unable to help the others.

He and George at least had the radio broadcast that they had co-created with Lee, Potterwatch, to do their part, keeping people updated on accurate news since the Daily Prophet was no longer reliable.

But Emilia couldn't do anything without bringing attention to herself.

She was a target, though not quite as much as Harry, but everyone knew that there was a risk that she would be used to find Harry.

Despite that, Fred knew in his heart that she would die before giving up her brother, and the thought killed him as much as it had when they'd fought over it weeks ago.

All he could do was hold her, remind her that she was okay, and hope that it was enough to help her sleep at night.

"Have you looked into the stuff Dumbledore left you?" he asked a while later as he eyed the items on the dresser, untouched since the day of the wedding.