Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 124 | Mess

The insistent pecking of an owl made Sarah jump so violently that the makeup brush in her hand flew from her grip. The brush soared across the room, bouncing off the wall and hitting Fred in the side of the head with a soft thud. He had been rummaging through the chest of drawers for a decent pair of socks to wear, but that task was quickly abandoned to nurse the pain in his temple.

"Argh!" Fred shouted, frowning. He looked at the makeup brush on the floor, and raised his eyebrows at Sarah.

"Sorry!" Sarah gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, "I'm so sorry! The owl-it, well-I got-sorry..."

Fred's unimpressed expression slipped into a grudging smile. He couldn't help it. Seeing Sarah at a loss for words wasn't a common occurrence, and he would be damned if he didn't enjoy it somewhat.

"Cat got your tongue?" Fred asked, picking up her makeup brush and throwing it back.

Sarah caught it with the swiftness of someone who had once been a chaser, "You had me apologising like that for no reason!"

"You hit me in the head!" Fred responded, beginning to laugh.

"I didn't mean to-"

The owl's beak slamming against the window cut Sarah off. Grumbling under her breath, she pulled herself to her feet and opened the window. The grey owl squarked and shook its leg impatiently.

"Will you go fetch the owl treats, please?" Sarah asked as she began to unravel the complicated string keeping the owl and envelope together.

"I'll do it," Fred said, heading out of the room, "just so you don't hit me again."

"Fred," Sarah huffed a laugh, but he had already left. Just as his feet thundered downstairs, Sarah manged to untie the string. "Yes!"

The owl screeched again, and leant in to peck at her hands. Sarah dodged the attack in the last second, and frowned at the little creature, "The man you just saw in here, Fred, is getting you treats right now. Calm down!"

The owl retracted its pointy beak, but it didn't stop screeching. Sarah chose to drown out the bird's squealing as she inspected the letter. It was addressed to her in a familliar curl, writing that Sarah had once been excited to see.

"Betsy," Sarah muttered, her stomach twisting.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic of a sentiment, but this letter felt as if it decided Sarah's future career. Would she go on to become a singer, or would she continue working in the shop? She found herself at a point of indecision, which was odd for her. She was usually so certain with her actions, so assured that she was doing the right thing. Now, part of her wanted to tear open the envelope and see Betsy's response. The other part of her wanted to tuck it in her vanity and pretend it didn't exist for a few hours whilst her and Fred viewed a wedding venue. The last part, a very small segment of Sarah's mind, wanted to burn the letter. Maybe it was better if she never knew. He life wasn't so bad right now, was it?

Fred appeared next to her, shaking a bag of treats at the owl. The bird's screeching died away, replaced by the crunching of food in his beak. Fred's gaze shifted from the owl perched on the windowsill to the envelope clutched in Sarah's hands.

"Who's it from?" He asked, noting Sarah's vacant expression.

When she didn't respond, he reached across, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Darling?"

"Betsy," The word took a lot of effort to leave her lips, as if it had vacuumed up all the breath in her lungs.

Fred's furrowed brows softened into understanding, "Ah, you gonna open it?"