The Foreigner {Fred Weasley x OC}

19.

I sit at the Gryffindor table, my body hunched over, scratching my quil across several different essays. Professor Burbage decided that because of my many absences, I needed to make up for it by writing seven essays - one for each different mode of Muggle electricity, Snape thought it quite funny to give me a seven-foot-long essay on the uses of calming draught, and Professor Lupin even gave me a couple of days to practice before he plans on giving me a test on everything he's taught me so far.

For now, my attention is given to my Muggle Studies essays.

"Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" Fred sits across from me.

I grumble, "Professor Burbage. She thought that it would be fitting to give me hours worth of writing due next week."

"That's what you get for camping out in the hospital wing for several weeks." George sips his pumpkin juice. I cross my arms, "You're supposed to be on my side."

George puts his cup down, "Oh, right." He straightens himself in his seat and says mockingly, "Charlie! How could Professor Burbage do such a thing? She should have given you the rest of the year off after all of the hard work you've put in these past few weeks."

"Okay. I get it." I wave for him to stop.

"What's the problem?" Hermione sits beside me.

"It's nothing, Hermione. It's just my Muggle Studies essays."

"I can help you with those if you'd like. I am an expert on Muggles." She suggests. I shake my head with a smile, "Don't worry, I can handle it. I just wish I didn't have to."

"You know what will take your mind off all those essays?" Fred and George lean over the table. I take a moment to pause and think, "Let me guess, is it quidditch?"

"Ten points to Charlie!" Lee exclaims.

"You promised you would watch the game." Fred pleads with wide eyes.

"I said I would come, I didn't promise." I correct him.

"Same difference."

"At least it's not raining this time." I pick up my toast and stare at it instead of eating it.

I feel something warm wrap around my neck and look up to see that Fred has taken off his scarf, "What's this?" I pull at the knit scarf.

"To keep you warm. We wouldn't want a repeat of last time."

Last time... Fainting out of the blue. Now knowing the severity of my condition, it's not surprising at all that I passed out that day, "Thanks, Fred. But-" I take off the scarf and wrap it around his head with a laugh, "I have my own scarf."

There is a commotion forming at the entrance of the hall. I lean back in my seat to see what all the noise is about. Harry Potter is carrying his broom and surrounding him are several Gryffindors acting like security guards for the boy - or more likely - for the broom.

He puts the broom down on the table. Wood takes measures to make sure that the broom is laying perfectly. People from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff gather to look at the fancy broom.

"What's the big deal with the broom?" I point to the commotion down the table. Fred and George look at me as though I had just insulted their mother, "What's the big deal? She says-"

"-It's only the greatest broom on the market-"

"-Nothing comes close."

"But it's just a broom." I counter.

The two of them groan and flop onto the table, "How can we have been friends with you this long and never realize how little you care for quidditch?!"

"Come on guys, just because I don't know what's so special about a broom doesn't mean I'm the worst person on the planet." I try to lift their heads off the table, "I won't learn anything about quidditch if you don't tell me."