Love In The Shadows | Fred Weasley x OC

Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Where's Fred?

The Burrow had quieted after dinner, the earlier chaos settling into a warm, sleepy hum. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting soft, flickering light across the living room. The scent of Molly's homemade apple pie still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint smell of fresh parchment and worn wood.

Adhara had tried to slip away after dessert, but Molly had been insistent.

"Oh, absolutely not," Molly had said, shaking her head as she cleared the plates. "You're staying the night."

Adhara had hesitated, glancing toward the door. "Molly, I don't—"

"No buts," Molly interrupted firmly. "It's already late, and I won't have you running off when you can stay right here where you belong."

Adhara swallowed. Where you belong.

Arthur had nodded in agreement, adjusting his glasses. "It'd be good to have you here, dear. It's been too long."

Ginny had grinned. "You're doomed, Adhara. Mum's already decided."

Vera had gently nudged her. "It'll be nice. Stay."

And so, she had.

Now, she lay in one of the upstairs bedrooms—the same one she had stayed in years ago—wrapped in a thick quilt, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled of lavender and old books, the furniture slightly creaky but comforting in its familiarity.

But sleep wouldn't come.

Because her mind was still spinning from him.

Fred.

The argument outside earlier had left her reeling.

She could still hear his voice, sharp and laced with frustration.

"You don't get to come back and pretend like none of it happened."

"You left, Adhara."

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling shakily.

He had been angry. Rightfully so.

And yet, beneath the anger, she had caught something else.

Something raw.

Something that made her chest ache.

Adhara turned onto her side, staring at the window. The moonlight cast a silver glow over the Burrow's backyard, stretching toward the dark outline of the orchard.

She wasn't sure what she had expected when she came back.

But Fred's anger—it wasn't just about the past.

It was about something more.

Something she still didn't understand.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of the quilt.

Where was he now?

Had he even stayed at the Burrow tonight?

The thought made her stomach twist.

But no one had mentioned it.

No one had said anything.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned onto her back again, staring at the ceiling until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

The morning air in the Burrow was thick with the smell of warm bread, crisp bacon, and sweet butter. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the bustling kitchen where Molly worked over the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.