Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Summer 1993: Pants

June 20th

Dear Bambi,

I know I just saw you yesterday, but I thought I'd send you a letter straight away– especially since owls seem to take their sweet time getting to Egypt. So, here it is: A letter from me, your favourite Weasley twin (no arguments).

It feels a bit strange being back home after such a long year. The house is a madhouse already with all the packing and prepping for Egypt despite us still being a month out. Mum seems to think we need to get a head's start. She's stressed out about something or other (probably the fact that George and I have done absolutely none of the packing yet), and Percy's being Percy. Honestly, I'd rather be on the train again, or better yet, already in Egypt—anything to avoid another lecture from him.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in and make sure you made it safely to Egypt. The Burrow is feeling a bit too quiet (weird, right?) without you here laughing your obnoxiously loud laugh. Think I've gotten used to having you around, almost forgot you're not 'actually' one of us Weasleys. Egypt's going to be something though– I hope you're ready for us. I know you'll probably have a lot more fun once we're there, and so will I.

Well, I'm off to avoid responsibility, but don't think I'm not missing you like mad. Write back soon before George starts accusing me of going soft. Love ya,

Fred

***

Egypt - July

Bambi lay sprawled out lazily on a rug underneath the awning of the tent, her last letter from Fred in her hands, the warm breeze doing little to cool her. Monty, likewise, slept next to her, his odd lanky body stretched out to its fullest extent. They had been in Egypt for about a month now, and she was loving almost every moment of it. She loved the warm weather, the savoury foods, and the markets bustling with life and people.

Her last full moon was made much more bearable with the breathable canvas of the tent, and according to Sebastian, she hardly wandered that far, his suspicion being that the more they tried to hold her back from her instinctual callings, the more she would rebel against her restraints. With these new transformations came many long interview sessions where Sebastian asked her about every little detail and insisted on taking pictures, but even so, Bambi didn't mind as much now that she wasn't extremely uncomfortable.

These interactions were the only amicable ones that really passed between father and daughter these days. Bambi knew, deep down, that Sebastian loved her and wanted the best for her, but the tension between them had grown almost palpable, filling the tent like a heavy fog. Their conversations were often stilted, the comfortable silence they once shared now replaced by awkward pauses and unspoken words.

The days were fine—when they discussed their plans for exploring the markets or visiting the ruins—but at night, beneath the canvas of the tent, their shared silence felt heavier. Bambi wasn't sure if it was just her sensitivity that made the air so thick, or if Sebastian felt it too, but it gnawed at her.

Her father had made his decision clear: she wouldn't be returning to school. No amount of pleading, arguing, or even sulking on her part seemed to budge him.

So, Bambi resigned herself to the long, slow days that followed. She read whatever books she could get her hands on, reread letters, and sprawled out in the sun until it became unbearable, and spent countless hours imagining herself back at school with her friends. She longed to hear from them, to feel connected to that world again. Gerald, their family owl, was reliable, but not particularly fast, and every day she found herself wishing he could speed up his return with news from her friends.