𝐌𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 | f. w

3.

The days passed in a blur of paperwork and meetings, each one a reminder of the growing divide between me and Fred. Despite my best efforts to bury the hatchet and move forward, the tension between us lingered like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over our interactions.

I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me whenever I crossed paths with Fred in the corridors of the Ministry. His usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a stony indifference, his gaze sliding past me as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.

At first, I tried to brush off his behavior, telling myself that I didn't care what he thought of me. After all, I had spent years despising him from afar, mocking his antics and rolling my eyes at his jokes. But now that he was the one ignoring me, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger beneath the surface.

How dare he treat me with such disdain, as if I were beneath his notice? For years, I had endured his taunts and jibes, silently seething with resentment at his arrogance and entitlement. But now that we were forced to work together, he acted as if I were invisible, as if I didn't even deserve his acknowledgment.

The injustice of it all rankled like a festering wound, fueling my anger and resentment with each passing day. How dare he ignore me when I was trying so hard to prove myself in the world of magical law? How dare he dismiss me as insignificant, as if my presence meant nothing to him?

The realization hit me like a slap in the face: Fred Weasley had always been nothing more than a spoiled brat, a bully who delighted in tormenting those weaker than himself. And now that we were colleagues, he had no qualms about continuing his reign of terror, even if it meant trampling over me in the process.

But I refused to be cowed by his arrogance, to be intimidated by his swaggering confidence. If he wanted to ignore me, then fine—I would ignore him right back. But deep down, beneath the layers of anger and resentment, a part of me still longed for revenge, still yearned to see him humbled and defeated.

And as I squared my shoulders and marched down the corridor, I vowed to myself that one day, I would have my revenge. One day, Fred Weasley would rue the day he crossed paths with Freya Manning. And on that day, justice would finally be served.

(...)

With each step I took down the long corridor of the Ministry, my anger grew hotter, burning like a wildfire in my chest. Fred's constant cheerfulness and his blatant disregard for my serious approach to the house-elf legislation project had fanned the flames of my resentment into an inferno, and I refused to let him get away with it any longer.

Finally reaching Fred's office, I threw open the door without bothering to knock. The force of my entrance caused him to look up from his paperwork with that infuriatingly cheerful grin plastered on his face.

"Freya!" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I marched into the room, my eyes blazing with fury as I advanced on him, each step echoing like a thunderclap in the small space. "How dare you ignore my suggestions for the house-elf legislation?" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage. "Who do you think you are, dismissing my ideas as if they're worthless?"

Fred's expression remained annoyingly upbeat, his grin unwavering. "Your ideas? Last time I checked, this was a team effort, Freya. And I thought we were making great progress together!"

His cheerful demeanor only fueled my anger, sending my blood boiling to dangerous levels. How dare he act like everything was fine, as if my contributions were insignificant compared to his own self-aggrandizing plans?

"I won't be dismissed so easily, Weasley," I seethed, my voice rising to a crescendo. "You may think you can steamroll over me, but I refuse to be silenced. I won't rest until you acknowledge the value of my ideas."