Head Boy // Cedric Diggory

7. Bonfire

Phoebe spent the Sunday after Halloween in her room with Lena, finally uncovering every minute detail of her best friend's months with Alfie Wilson. After she had felt like she had lived the entirety of the two's relationship herself, Phoebe finally divulged everything that had transpired between herself and Fred that weekend.

Lena sat back for a moment, clearly mulling over everything she had just heard before she stated plainly, "You don't love him."

"Well, of course I love him, El, he's my best friend," Phoebe defended.

"I know, Phoebe, but you don't love him."

This time, Phoebe sat back in silence. She knew she didn't feel that way for him, but it terrified her that he might and that she could lose him as a result.

"Look, the bonfire is tonight, just talk to him then. You guys have been through enough. It's just a... blip," Lena tried to reassure her.

Every year, on the first Sunday of November, students gathered on the grounds for a bonfire after the final Quidditch match of the season. In all of the chaos of the weekend, Phoebe had figured the bonfire wouldn't be happening this year between the lack of a Quidditch season and Umbridge's ridiculous hold on the activities of the school. There was nothing to celebrate.

"I figured Umbridge would've canceled that," Phoebe said.

"Oh, she did. But we're doing it anyway. Fred and George are seeing to it," Lena shrugged.

"Look at you, little rebel," laughed Phoebe, surprised at her friend's nonchalant manner towards a prohibited event.

"Oh, come on. I'm hungry and we haven't left this room all day," Lena stood and dragged her friend's arm til the both were standing and out of the room.

-

Phoebe found herself sitting alone on one of the wooden benches a fair distance from the fire, absentmindedly sipping cider from a cup. She wasn't particularly observing the events occurring before her, but rather lost in her own mind, something that had become painfully common this year.

"Leaving someone else to be the center of attention this year, are we?" Fred's voice came from behind her as he stepped over the bench and took a seat next to her.

"I'm not the school's best chaser anymore," Phoebe shrugged lamely.

"Just because we haven't played doesn't mean you're not still the best," Fred grinned reassuringly.

"I guess you're right," Phoebe replied, but she didn't smile. She tried to, but before she could, she knew she needed to address something more present than Quidditch. "We should talk."

"I don't want to be with you," Fred blurted out.

Phoebe was taken aback. Not only was she entirely surprised by the words that came from his mouth, but was enamored at the force of it. He sat back sheepishly, but Phoebe found herself frozen.

"Okay," was all she could muster. She sounded heartless and kicked herself at her inability to articulate anything further.

"I just, I knew what you were going to say, and I agree," Fred oddly defended in a single breath, his eyes averting hers as he rocked awkwardly on the bench.

Phoebe could barely understand what had just transpired between the two before he tussled her hair and jogged off towards his brother who was ripping pages from a textbook and tossing them into the fire.

The conversation Phoebe had been dreading was over and although she didn't even feel as though she had been a part of it, an overwhelming wave of relief was lifted from her brain and shoulders. She chugged the rest of her cup of cider and stood more confidently than she had in a while and caught up with the two brothers.