Restricted

Chapter 57. Content

Fred's pacing halted abruptly for what might have been the tenth time since arriving, his shoes brashly skidding against stone with a harsh screech.

But the Astronomy Tower's landing only met him with silence again.

With another narrowed glance in the still shut door's direction, and without any indication of movement, the dread filling his chest eased slightly.

Another sound must have filtered up from the forest brushline; an owl taking flight, a heap of melting snow plopping from the castle rooftops.

Though Fred did not put it past himself to have imagined the noise entirely, not in this state at least.

He stole another peek at his wristwatch, the longest hand only making a singular notch to the right since he'd last checked.

Madeline's note had explicitly stated half eight-sharp.

He still wondered how on earth she had managed to get it to him in the first place.

At that evening's dinner feast, Fred's eyes had discreetly scoured the length of the Slytherin table, something he'd begun to do since the start of term-and located her immediately beside Daphne. Madeline had met his gaze shortly after he'd spotted her, and briefly offered him a grin before swiftly returning her attention across the table to her roommate.

It wasn't until Fred had found his own seat that he discovered the reason for the sly glint in her eye. As whilst he had sat, a small soft crinkling came from the inner pocket of his robe, a short message scribbled in her handwriting.

He had of course scarfed down his dinner at a near concerning rate, and as soon as Professor Dumbledore made his closing remarks and dismissed the Great Hall, Fred was taking the stairs up the tower two at a time.

It was now three minutes past half eight, and thus his pacing began anew.

Though, truthfully, her tardiness was the least of Fred's concerns.

He was too busy to focus on it; entirely consumed with the fear of what Madeline would do when she did arrive.

Last night, as promised, Fred had waited patiently a minute or so before slipping out from the girls' entry hall loo and bounded up the flights of stairs with ease.

Throughout his entire trip to the Gryffindor common room, he'd felt weightless, utterly and wholly unbelieving of he and Madeline's stolen moment amidst the chaos of the ball. He had replayed every last second in his mind, starting from the moment Madeline's fist of fury reigned down on Pucey's sorry face.

With every levitating step towards his dormitory, he'd focused intently on what exactly he planned to tell George, Lee, anyone who would listen, really.

Fred was more than eager to tell the world how mad he was for Madeline Lilith.

Only, as he finally entered his dorm, his plan to do so failed miserably in every conceivable way.

Neither George nor Lee were in their room when Fred had returned. It hadn't been too difficult to get over the fact, nor kick off the terribly too tight shoes in waiting anxiously for their arrival.

After what had felt like hours though, George was the first to return, and in no mood to hear a single bout of good news-or really any news at all.

Whilst they usually made a habit to not divulge every last inner feeling or rush of emotion, Fred couldn't possibly ignore the look of utter defeat and misery in his twin's countenance.

Fred had prodded at first, likely only irritating his brother further until he had gotten the barest of explanations.

George had danced with Jolie. They had spoken afterward in Merrythought's office, and it had not gone in his twin's favour. If anything, it had left him in a much worse state.