Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Fifth Year: Collateral Damage

"Bambi, get down here!"

"NO!"

"BAMBI MARIE HARGROVES!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"GOSH DAMN-IT, BAMBI, I'M COMING UP THERE!"

With a frustrated growl, Angelina snatched up her broom and kicked off the ground, soaring into the evening sky to join Bambi. The wind whipped fiercely around her, tugging at her hair as she climbed higher, the golden glow of the setting sun casting both of them in fiery hues. She spotted Bambi perched on her broom, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression as stormy as the thickening clouds on the horizon.

Angelina's broom wobbled a bit, and she fought to keep her grip steady as the wind howled. The ground below looked almost impossibly far, the Quidditch hoops swaying violently in the wind, the flags on the posts snapping as if they, too, were caught in Bambi's internal whirlwind.

"What the hell's gotten into you?!" Angelina demanded, her voice cutting sharply through the air as soon as she got within earshot.

Bambi didn't flinch. She sat rigidly, her back straight, eyes fixed stubbornly on the treetops below. "It's the full moon tonight," she snapped, arms crossed defensively over the knit blanket Mrs. Weasley had made her during the summer. "Can't I just get some peace and quiet before the sun fully sets?" She shot Angelina a pointed look, daring her to challenge her further, the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders doing little to soften her scowl.

"Peace and quiet? Peace and—Bambi, no!" Angelina repeated incredulously, stopping her broom just shy of colliding with Bambi. "No, you cannot have peace and quiet! You have to explain yourself! If not to Fred, then at least to me!"

"Why do you care so much?" Bambi shot back, her voice raising a pitch, her frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface as her short curls were thrown this way and that.

"Because," Angelina yelled, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis, "if there's one thing I want for my bloody birthday, it's for you to explain what happened !"

The words landed like a blow, and for a moment, Bambi said nothing. The wind seemed to pause, hanging in the air as if waiting for her response. Her eyes drifted to the horizon, where the sun was sinking lower, leaving streaks of fire across the sky. The evening was still and beautiful, but her insides churned with a storm she couldn't quite tame. The pressure of the wind, the tightening in her chest—it was all too much.

"It's my fault, okay?" Bambi finally admitted, her voice tight. "The other night, the party, Fred, Kenneth—everything. It's all my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. So, there. Happy bloody birthday, Angelina."

Angelina blinked, the rawness in Bambi's voice softening her frustration. She tilted her broom closer, the wind tugging at her braids as she said, "Bambi, you can't just run off every time things get messy. We're all trying to figure out what's going on with you, but you won't let anyone in."

"Well, it's not like I have a lot of experience dealing with this sort of thing." She clutched the edges of the blanket tighter, her jaw trembling slightly as she fought the urge to take a deep breath of the smell of the Burrow that lingered in the yarn. "Fred hates me, I ruined it. He won't even look at me."

Angelina sighed, leaning forward on her broom until they were nearly level. "Fred doesn't hate you," she said gently. "He's confused, sure, and maybe even hurt, but he doesn't hate you, Bambi. You know him better than that."

Bambi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head, "That's not what it feels like. He won't even talk to me. And he looks at me like..." Her words trailed off as she bit her lip, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. The wind began to pick up again. "And I can't– I can't explain what happened because I don't even know why I did it." She groaned, glancing away.