Love In The Shadows | Fred Weasley x OC

Chapter 62

Chapter 62: New Life

The streets of Bordeaux were alive with the bustling energy of early morning. Adhara Malfoy stepped out of her modest apartment, the crisp air filling her lungs as she took in her new surroundings. The quaint cobblestone streets were lined with charming cafés, bakeries, and boutiques—a far cry from the cold, imposing walls of Malfoy Manor. She had traded the oppressive weight of her past for the vibrant pulse of a city that promised freedom.

After leaving England behind, Adhara had transferred to the French Ministry of Magic, where she quickly found a new role as an associate within the Tribunal des Sortilèges (Spell Tribunal), the French equivalent of the Wizengamot. Her background in magical law and her sharp analytical skills had made her a valuable asset to the court, where she assisted in handling high-profile cases involving powerful magical entities and delicate legal matters.

Though the work was challenging, it gave her the sense of purpose she so desperately needed. Being immersed in the complexities of magical justice in a new country allowed her to escape the ghosts of her past while staying on the right side of the law. The quiet hum of the tribunal's chambers, the weight of every case she worked on, offered her a much-needed distraction, and for the first time in years, Adhara felt a glimmer of peace amidst the turbulence of her own life.

As she walked to work, Adhara couldn't shake the memories of Fred from her mind. Their laughter, the way he held her close, the dreams they had shared—they haunted her every moment. She had hoped that distance would ease the ache in her heart, but instead, it had only grown heavier. Bordeaux was beautiful, but it lacked the warmth of Fred's embrace and the laughter they shared.

Before she had left for France, Lucius had sent her a letter, his words draped in a facade of pride and authority. "I'm proud of you, Adhara, for finally leaving that boy behind," he had written. "You've made the right decision to focus on your future. Never forget that family comes first." The letter had made her skin crawl, his condescending tone reminding her of all the reasons she had fled. She had crumpled it and tossed it aside, determined to forge her own path.

Work was a welcome distraction. At the office, Adhara found herself immersed in reports, analyzing cases of accidental invisibility and learning from her colleagues. The camaraderie within the department was comforting, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of belonging. Yet, beneath the surface of her new life, a persistent ache remained. She missed Fred, his humor, and the way he could make her forget her troubles.

Days turned into weeks, and she settled into her routine, but the emptiness remained. One Friday evening, after a particularly stressful week at work, Adhara found herself on a park bench overlooking the Garonne River. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. It was a breathtaking sight, but all she could think about was Fred. A deep sense of longing washed over her, and she felt the overwhelming urge to reach out to him.

That night, she sat at her kitchen table with a blank piece of parchment and a quill. She poured her heart into letters she would never send. "Dear Fred," she began, her hand trembling slightly. "I miss you more than words can express..." Each letter was filled with memories of their time together, of laughter and love, of the dreams they had shared. Yet, for every word she wrote, she felt the weight of Lucius's threats bearing down on her.

The first letter was easy. In it, she reminisced about their picnic at the Burrow, recalling how he had playfully tossed a grape at her, only to have it bounce off her nose. She smiled at the memory but quickly stifled it, knowing she couldn't share it with him. The second letter flowed with raw emotion, detailing her struggles to adjust to life in a new country and how every day felt like a battle against her own heart.

But as she continued writing, each letter became a bittersweet reminder of the love she had left behind. "I'm safe here, but I feel so lost," she wrote in the third letter, her heart aching at the thought of Fred waiting for her in England, unsure of where she had gone. She wrote about how she often wandered the streets of Bordeaux, imagining Fred by her side, sharing croissants and laughter. "You deserve to be happy, and I'm terrified that I can't be that for you anymore," she admitted, tears blurring her vision.

Each night, she would write, pouring out her soul onto the parchment. But she never sealed an envelope; she never sent a single letter.

Days turned into weeks, and she continued to write in silence, leaving the letters piled on her table. Each morning, she would glance at them, feeling the weight of unexpressed feelings bearing down on her heart. The letters were her only solace, her way of coping with the loneliness that gnawed at her. She felt as if she were living in two worlds: one filled with the love she had for Fred and the other dictated by her father's threats.

At work, she became adept at pushing her emotions aside, focusing on her responsibilities with newfound determination. Yet, at night, as she lay in her small bed, the letters haunted her. They were pieces of her heart left unguarded, words that would never be spoken. She thought of the weight of each letter, each one carrying the truth of her love, her fear, and her longing.

One evening, she found herself sitting by the Garonne River again, the moonlight shimmering across the water. She pulled out the letters, reading each one in the silence of the night. With each word, she felt the love she had for Fred swell in her chest, pushing against the constraints of her situation.

"Fred, I love you," she whispered into the night, a plea to the universe to somehow carry her words to him. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to return, but please know that you're always in my heart."

With a heavy heart, she folded each letter, placing them in a small box beneath her bed, a collection of unfulfilled promises and emotions. Adhara was trapped in a web of her father's making, and while she had escaped to France, the threat of her past loomed large.

As the years passed, she found herself standing at a crossroads. The letters she had written were both a lifeline and a shackle, binding her to a love that felt just out of reach. She missed Fred with a ferocity that sometimes left her breathless, and yet, she felt the weight of the choice she had made pressing down on her.

Adhara knew she had to find a way to reclaim her life. But for now, she was left with the letters—silent testimonies of a love that had not dimmed, even across the distance that separated them.