Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 114 | Starving

Fred spent a while longer in Sarah's company listening to her steady breathing. He thought of the visions of Sarah that had been visiting periodically, and smiled at the fact that he no longer needed them. Inches away was the real thing. A mere vision paled in comparison.

Finally, Fred rose from where he had been perched on the bed. He tugged off his jacket and jeans, changing back into his comfy pair of jogging bottoms and a hoodie. He shut the bedroom door softly behind him, his stomach rumbling for breakfast.

It was six in the morning, and the sun had finally risen fully. The hallway was bright with early morning light, as if reflecting Fred's optimistic mood. He jogged downstairs, taking a turn towards the clinking of glass bottles coming from the kitchen.

George, half hidden by the cupboard door, was frantically going through the assortment of potions. Hearing Fred's footsteps, he popped his head out.

"All these potions are for life-ending stuff," George complained, turning back to the cupboard. He began listing them off, "Blood replenishing, Wiggenwald, common antidote...but no nutrient potions."

Fred shrugged, "Probbaly for the best. We don't know what nutrients Sarah's lacking in, anyway."

George snapped the cupboard door closed and shot him an incredulous look, "Come off it. You saw her upstairs. They were clearly starving her."

Fred winced at that. He was really trying not think about how much Sarah had evidently suffered, not until it came from her own mouth at least.

"We'll wait until she wakes up," Fred said decidedly after composing himself. He rounded the kitchen island, reached for the bread bin, "Hungry?"

George's shoulders slumped, "Yeah, go on, then."

With a flick of his wand, Fred sent the bread flying towards a pan on the stove. A floating knife deposited a knob of butter on the metal, and in no time, two slices of bread were sizzling.

George slumped into a seat at the island, yawning, "You not tired? I'm suddenly knackered."

Fred, too antsy to sit, paced the distance between the stove and fridge, "Nah, quite awake, actually."

George muttered something incomprehensible before laying his head in his arms. He didn't raise his head until Fred nudged a plate with burnt toast towards him.

"Sorry," Fred said, noting George's wrinkled nose, "I got distracted."

The pair ate their burnt toast, the silence punctuated with loud crunching noises. They were both too absorbed in their own thoughts to chat.

Their silence was interrupted by the office door opening, revealing Aunt Muriel in her nightgown. She went to step into the kitchen, but paused upon sight of the twins. Her eyes narrowed at the pair, and Fred prepared himself for the worst.

"What are you two up to?" Aunt Muriel barked in her croaky voice.

"Nothing," Fred answered before taking another crunchy bite of his blackened toast.

"Why are you up so early?" Aunt Muriel inquired, her lips pressed thin.

George, a dangerous mix between exasperated and exhausted, stood sharply, "I think I'll have a coffee."

Fred was well aware that George would usually choose to choke himself to death before even letting a drop of coffee past his lips. Merlin, he really must be knackered.

Aunt Muriel watched George cross the kitchen and towards the kettle. She gave both him, and Fred, a wide berth before heading into the hallway.

"Can't wait till she's gone," Fred muttered darkly, which was met by George's exhausted laughter.