Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 112 | Escape

A/N: I'm an idiot. I've only just noticed i forgot to upload the chapter of Sarah getting out of Malfoy Manor. Here it is now, enjoy!



Fred's house was called Wisteria Cottage, something he repeatedly reminded everyone upon the news that he would be playing host to another guest. Sure, the cottage was rather roomy, but it was still small and cosy, just as he and Sarah intended it to be.

The space they did have was already stretched thin. All four of the normal bedrooms were occupied, the loft had been converted into two more rooms, and the spare sitting room had been transformed.

It didn't help Fred's mood when he discovered who would be joining them.

"You're joking," Fred announced, bursting into his parents' room in the evening.

His parents were both sat up in bed, lit by the golden lamps on the bedside table. His mother, hair wrapped in a silk scarf, knitted something that looked like a scarf. His father, glasses tipping off the edge of his nose, was flicking through the manual of Fred's television.

Mrs Weasley jumped at Fred's intrusion, accidentally flinging her knitting to the foot of the bed. Mr Weasley's glasses finally fell from his face, and he mistakenly crushed them with his flailing arm.

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley shrieked, hand on her heart, "Why you must you always-"

Fred cut her off before she could really get going. That was always the best tactic with his mother.

"Forget that," Fred waved a dismissive hand. He moved his mother's knitting out of the way and sat down. "Why did you invite her here? We don't have the space!"

"What are you-Oh, right," Mrs Weasley said in realisation. Her face twisted back into irritation, "That's your Great Aunt, Fred Weasley. I won't hear you talk about her in that tone, mister."

Mr Weasley tapped his glasses with his wand, and with a small click, they were good as new. As he slotted them back onto his face, he said, "She's all on her own in that house, Fred. It's not safe."

"Yeah, I understand that bit," Fred grumbled, "But like I said, we don't have the space."

"Yes, we do," Mrs Weasley retorted, reaching for her knitting.

"Oh, really? Where?" Fred asked, unimpressed. "She'll be sleeping on your bedroom floor, will she?"

The gentle clicking of Mrs Weasley's knitting needles punctuated her next words, "Watch your mouth. The office downstairs will do."

Fred gasped, "George and I are using the office for work!"

"Well, you'll have to put all that somewhere else. The shed, perhaps?" Mrs Weasley responded through gritted teeth.

"I can't believe this!" Fred exclaimed, standing up, "My own house..."

His voice decreased to a mutter as he stalked out of the room, watched by the sharp gaze of his mother. He snapped the door shut behind him, and found himself face to face with Tonks. She was peeking out of her bedroom door, dark circles under her eyes.

"Alright, Fred?" Tonks asked through a yawn. She stepped into the hallway properly, revealing her pajama top stretched tightly around her protruding stomach.

Fred's anger softened at the sight of Tonks. He couldn't possibly let his anger out on a pregnant woman. "Fine, yeah. Why are you up?"

"Can't sleep," Tonks responded, yawning again. Her hair flashed to a dull brown in the midst of her yawn, and then back to pink. Fred wondered if that was her natural hair colour.