Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 101 | Night Mission

The winter sun glared through the window, causing Sarah to wake up. She squinted at her surroundings, patting at her bedside table until she felt the smooth wood of her wand. With a halfhearted flick, the curtains partially closed. The room was still bright, but at least she could see.

She slumped back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin to fight against the goosebumps on her arms.

Beside her, Fred stirred, emitting a quiet groan. Sarah watched fondly as he tiredly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed his messy hair from his face.

"Morning," Sarah greeted softly, curling up under the covers.

"Mornin," Fred groaned, turning onto his side to face her, "What time is it?"

"Dunno, I just woke up as well," Sarah responded, reaching for her wand again.

Pointing it towards the intricate ceiling of their four-post bed, Sarah casted, "Tempus."

A hologram of an analogue clock appeared above them, the time reading 8:06.

"About time we get up," Sarah huffed, dropping her wand onto their duvet, but she didn't make a move to get out of bed.

"Hmm, yeah," Fred murmured, snuggling further into the duvet, "We definitely should."

Sarah snickered, and the pair lay there in comfortable silence for a while. Sarah soaked herself in Fred's presence; the warmth of his body, the comforting sound of his breathing, his heavy eyelids, the sea of freckles, and the tilt of his sleepy smile.

"You'll be alright at Headquarters for a few days?" Fred broke the silence with his rough, morning voice.

Sarah's stomach twisted with desire, but she knew they didn't have much time.

"I'll be alright," Sarah responded softly, reaching out to soothe his tousled hair, "You'll be okay at the Burrow?"

"Yeah, it'll be like the Christmasses before we ever got together," Fred sighed, flipping onto his back, "Especially considering Harry, Ron and Hermione won't be there either."

"Bill and Fleur aren't going either, are they?" Sarah inquired.

"No, they aren't," Fred responded thoughtfully, "Maybe it'll be emptier than expected."

At half past eight, the pair reluctantly got out of bed. They both showered and dressed for the day and packed their weekend bags.

"Who's taking Moose?" Sarah asked, sitting across from Fred at the small kitchen table.

Fred looked up from where he was buttering his toast. They both glanced at Moose, who was far more concerned with scoffing down his kibble.

Fred bit into his toast with a loud crunch and responded, "I'll 'av 'im."

"Probably for the best," Sarah said, spreading jam on her toast, "He'll be able to run around the countryside at the Burrow. He'd be trapped in the house with me."

"Mum and Dad haven't met him either," Fred, speaking with a clear mouth now, said, "He might cheer them up."

At twelve, Sarah pulled her weekend bag onto her shoulder, grabbed her shopping bags full of ingredients, kissed Fred goodbye, and headed to Headquarters.

Fred similarly grabbed his bag, his sack of presents, Moose, and departed for the Burrow. The second they both apparated to their respective locations, they felt like they should have kissed goodbye for longer.
   
  
  
Fred headed up the dirt path towards the front door of the Burrow. The house looked as it usually did, lopsided and cosy. Still, there was an air of unease around the place, like the unkempt garden riddled with gnome holes. Fred kept his wand tucked in his sleeve, ready to defend himself if it came to it.