Orange Trees | Fred Weasley

Chapter Eighteen

September 4th, 1994

Jericho nervously fidgeted with the delicate paper butterfly in his hand as he walked down the brick corridors of Hogwarts, heart beating louder with every step he made. The weight of his book-laden bag seemed to pull him down even further, burdened not just with textbooks but with the anticipation of what was to come. He was on his way to meet Fred for a tutoring session, a task he had completely forgotten about until the note he had received earlier that day. And it wasn't just any note; it was an animated butterfly. A whimsical, fluttering messenger that had floated its way to him; unfolding to reveal a meeting place, a time, and a simple smiley face followed by Fred's name, printed in that familiar, messy handwriting.

When the butterfly had first landed on his desk during class, Jericho didn't quite know what to feel. Just the night before, he had experienced a monumental shift in his life. After spending the evening with Violet, he had done something he never thought he would be able to do - he had come out. For the first time, he had spoken aloud the truth of who he was, admitting to someone that he liked boys. Well, someone other than the fairies.

The relief that had followed was like nothing he had ever felt, a weight lifted from his chest that allowed him to breathe easier, to stand a little taller. Violet, with her calm demeanor and shared secret, had become an unexpected confidante, someone who understood him in a way no one else at Hogwarts ever had.

But despite the newfound sense of self that he had gained from that evening, the paper butterfly in his hand reminded him that his journey was far from over. After revealing his secret to Violet, the words had continued to spill out of him uncontrollably, as if a dam had burst, releasing all the thoughts and feelings he had kept bottled up for so long. He had talked about everything - about Fred, about the summer they had shared, about the confusing, heart-wrenching emotions that had accompanied it all. For the first time ever, he had someone to talk to about these things, someone who wouldn't judge or dismiss his feelings, someone who understood what it was like to navigate the complex landscape of adolescence, queerness, and hormones.

Violet, despite her usual disdain for anything overly sentimental, had listened patiently, offering what comfort and advice she could. She hadn't hesitated to tease Jericho about his choice in men, remarking that she found the Weasley twins to be quite obnoxious and annoying, a comment that had made Jericho smile despite himself. He found their antics endearing, charming even, in a way that only someone infatuated could. But Violet's advice hadn't been all lighthearted banter. She had urged him to keep an open mind, reminding him that sexualities and attractions came in all shapes and sizes. Just because Fred wasn't openly gay didn't mean he couldn't have feelings for Jericho, she had pointed out. She had even referenced Mink's bone reading, suggesting that perhaps the universe simply wasn't ready for them to be together yet, and that patience might be the key to unlocking whatever future lay ahead.

But Violet had also presented another possibility, one that Jericho found harder to accept. Maybe Mink's reading wasn't about Fred at all. Maybe it was about someone else, someone better who might come along when Jericho was ready, when he had fully embraced who he was. Perhaps Fred was only meant to be a friend, a stepping stone on the path to something greater. Violet had urged him not to close himself off to other possibilities, to other people who might make his heart race and his world brighter. But as much as Jericho appreciated her honesty, he couldn't imagine feeling the way he did about Fred for anyone else. Still, he had to admit that Violet's words had given him something to think about.

As he neared the classroom where they were supposed to meet, Jericho's thoughts raced, replaying Violet's advice over and over in his mind. Regardless of what the future held, he knew he couldn't ignore Fred, couldn't just push him away because of his confusing feelings. He had promised to help Fred with his schoolwork, and he intended to keep that promise, no matter how much it might make his heart ache in the process. But as he stood outside the door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. He didn't need a spell or a sixth sense to know Fred was inside; he could feel it, an inexplicable pull that drew him closer.