𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 - [EDITING]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷

"Di'I miss a chapter or two?" Fred asks, mouth half full of potatoes. He glanced between me and his brother and then back to me. "You've both been awful quiet."

I don't even have the time to worry about such trivial things as Honeydukes and Oliver. All day, I floated through classes with one foot in the land of the living and the rest of me stuck in my head. Dread had taken up residence in my belly and showed no sign of leaving. I have to do something. I have to get away or he'll have me killed or sent to Azkaban. Unlike most, I wanted nothing more than to grow up to be nothing like my parents. Since I was apparently not a murderer, I had succeeded so far in that wish as far as my father goes, but being sent to Azkaban would be detrimental as I'd follow in my mothers footsteps.

"Ooooooookay then!" Fred says in response to our silence. He claps his hands together as if getting down to business. "How was Wood yesterday, Oggy? You never told us about your hot date last night."

"Shove off it," George says. I turn to him, finally shaken out of the trance, and gape. Why would he come to my defense? Was he not seething in silent anger just last night? He gives me a soft smile and then looks down at his lap as if we share a tender secret. I'm not sure if the fluttering in my stomach is butterflies or nausea.

Fred raises his brows. "Ok, I definitely missed something. Care to explain?"

No. I think. I'd really prefer not to. But I can't say that. Not to the boys. Instead, I clear my throat, failing to get rid of the lump residing there, and say, "Ready for the match tonight?"

George snorts. "It's against Hufflepuff. We've practically won already."

"Eh," Fred added, "Their seeker is pretty good. If he gets the Snitch early on and we haven't scored, then they could win. Slim chance, but a chance nonetheless."

"Two words for ya," George retaliates, "Harry. Potter."

"Hey! Chasers are important too!" I say with an attempt at enthusiasm. Keyword: attempt.

The boys misread it, thinking it's insecurities, and try to boost my confidence with their little shared speech thing they do to show off the twin-epathy.

"We know, Gwen."

"You're gonna do great."

"A team is a team for a reason."

"Every player is important."

"We need all the positions to win."

"Except against Hufflepuff."

"Except against- George!" Fred smacks his brother's muscled forearm in annoyance at making him repeat such things.

I snort. "And here I was thinking George was the nice one!"

"HEY!" They say at once. This time the snort grows into a chuckle and is genuine.

"I am very nice, for your information," Fred states. "Look, I'm so nice that I make sure all the children eat their food."

He whips out his wand and whispers, "Wingardium Leviosa."

An apple from a ways down the table floats into the air, slowly and shakily. Harry, who sits directly adjacent to it, twirls his fork in his fingers and remains peacefully ignorant to Fred's plot.

The poor boy's jade eyes are fixed absentmindedly at the table and hasn't touched anything on his plate. First match of the year jitters, I'm sure. He opens his mouth to answer something Hermione said and Fred takes the opportunity, sending the apple darting towards him.

With a blur of Granny-Smith-green and a solid thunk, the fruit smashes into Harry's lips and sends him tumbling backwards, nearly falling from his seat and onto the floor with the apple.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the peals of laughter that beg to be free. "Fred! Don't give him a concussion! We need our Seeker, whether George thinks so or not!"

"The kid needs to eat!"
Harry nearly breaks his neck while searching for where the projectile came from. His eyes land on our little trio and he shoots daggers towards us with one lofty glare. George and I both point to Fred instinctively while he points to us both. Such kind friends we are, throwing each other under the bus without hesitation.

"Should we get going for the pitch?" Harry asks, brushing aside the assault as if it's not at all out of the ordinary which, I suppose, it's not.

Fred energetically jumps to his feet, nearly flipping the table in the process, and starts to the door. The reason behind the dramatics, I have no idea, but George and I follow with a shake of the head and a chuckle.