Restricted

Chapter 30. Nightmare

At the mere mention of that dreadful day of the match, Madeline's heart ached despite itself.

For the past two weeks, she had opted not to think about it—didn't want to. It had been too painful a memory.

So she'd figured talking about it aloud would be even worse. More brutal.

Yet, as she looked at her friend before her, seeing Jolie's dark brows pinching together in concern and empathy, Madeline found herself speaking without baulking, ready to relay the story piece by piece.

Having a friend that trusted her so, that listened without partiality or defence of Fred, eased the ache in her chest.

She unfurled the tense grip she held on the edge of her mattress before she went on.

"On the pitch, Adrian was goading him—throwing jabs about Gryffindor. Just egging him on to piss him off," Madeline murmured. "And, clearly, it worked. Too well. Fred just—snapped. Lunged at him."

The sight she'd described appeared from behind her eyes at an instant, the shrieks of the crowd around them practically ringing in her ears.

"And after seeing how quick his temper was, losing it at the drop of a hat like that," Madeline told her, "I just... felt put off. That fight never should have happened. It wouldn't have happened if Fred hadn't lost his temper.

She shook away the clear picture of it. The sounds of Fred and Adrian's harsh collision with the unforgiving ground of the pitch.

"So, now I'm—" Madeline stopped, observing her friend's abruptly shifted expression. "Wait, what is it?"

Across from her, Jolie's countenance had become sour, a deep set frown over her features.

Jolie only shook her head.

"It just... doesn't really sound like Fred," she said doubtfully. "I know George has a temper sometimes, and he's said Fred's can be worse, but—I don't know. It's weird that he'd freak out like that from just a few poor remarks about his House."

Madeline shrugged. "I thought so too. But clearly he has some kind of complex with House rivalry."

Nodding, Jolie ran a hand along her neck.

She had to have known, if not more understanding than anyone.

Madeline was not daft. She knew of the sudden heightened tensions between the Houses that followed soon after the match. She had heard the things whispered about the twins, the Gryffindors as a whole.

Madeline only wondered how it had affected her roommate, her friends.

"So," Jolie prompted, "after the match, what happened? You spoke to Fred?"

Madeline nodded. "I did. I was upset with him—for what he did. Adrian looked... God, he'd looked half dead. And when I made it clear how disappointed I was, all Fred did was defend himself—saying Adrian deserved it. Can you imagine?"

Jolie grimaced, seeming not at all surprised.

"Fred was practically irate when he realised I wasn't going to side with him on it," Madeline went on. "And he said I don't need to worry about being his friend—that my father would be proud that I could stick 'to my own' now—"

"Wait, your father?" Jolie gasped softly. "Fred knows about the list?"

Madeline nodded grimly.

She knew it was a mistake to tell him, to tell anyone apart from her closest friends.