prospicere futurum | fred weasley | cedric diggory

41

Corinne was quite comfortable. The fire blazed in the fireplace before her, the warmth filling the empty common room, leaving a layer of fog against the frozen window panes, though she hadn't noticed. Her legs were kicked over the arm rest of the familiar couch, the small book perched in her lap.

The sleeves of the red hoodie were nearly fraying, and you could hardly make out the gold lion emblem that had once covered the front, but it was warm, and soft. She had pulled it on the night before from where it had been sticking out from the edge of her dresser, wishing, not for the first time, that there were fireplaces in the dormitories too, as the wind whistled through the tower.

Breakfast had been quiet, though Dumbledore had smiled at her and McGonagall had checked in a few times on her way to and from the staff table. She hadn't missed the sad look in her professor's eyes, even as she plastered on a smile and assured her that she was doing well.

It was Christmas Eve, and Corinne was alone. She knew it looked sad, she just couldn't bring herself to agree.

Almost inaudibly, a light flurry of snow had begun to flick against the windows behind her, though the crackle of the fire she had conjured for herself was doing a great job at drowning any other noise out. Corinne could no longer pretend that she was trying to re-read Little Women. Not with the way she had been flying through the pages, her eyes scanning through the margins for each dark inked scribble.

She paused again, finding another mark and scanning over the paragraph to find her place.

"You're magic," he said simply. His eyes had locked on hers, and she found she could not look away. "I've said it before. You're a magic person, Jo. I sometimes think you might be... an enchantress."

Fred's handwriting scrawled beside the paragraph, too familiar now, after the past few hours she had spent scanning through his notes.

Poor guy is absolutely obsessed

Corinne laughed, dropping the book back to her lap and letting her head fall back onto the worn couch. Of all the people who were allowed to judge someone for an unrequited obsession...

She flipped the page, again and again, the next note not too far ahead.

He wanted adventure. Passion. He wanted Jo.

Beside the short sentence, Fred's note was tucked almost illegibly, letters smudged together.

That's what she wants, too. Why is she being difficult?

Corinne bit back a smile, shaking her head. She wondered if he had actually finished the book. What he had thought of the two of them by the end.

The pages flipped easily through her fingers again, stopping at the next note in black. Amy was lecturing Laurie, and Corinne laughed before even reading the words. She did love Amy, even when she had been small and whiny. A thin, messy line had been drawn beneath a sentence near the middle of her rant, and Corinne's mouth fell slightly.

Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want.

All your days...

Don't let it spoil you.

Corinne's fingers trailed absentmindedly over the ink. She wondered, as she often had before, when he had done this. Added the notes. Finished the book. Had this been the reason he had finally given up all of the pranks and the outbursts?

The portrait hole clicked and she leaned up slightly, pulling her eyes towards the hallway. There had been a few younger students who had stayed from Gryffindor who would pop in and out of the tower throughout the days, but her mouth fell now at the sight. The brown eyes meeting hers instantly, the flecks of snow through the red hair, coat hanging lazily over his shoulders as if he had nearly forgotten it.