Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 127 | Bakery

August arrived with sun-drenched days and cooling breeze. Sarah found herself looking forward to her and Fred's evening plans; they would be visiting the glistening lake by the Burrow for a swim under the golden light of the sunset. She really did enjoy how the sun didn't set until ten o'clock during the summer.

First, before Sarah could float on the cool water of a lake, she had other issues to tend to. The closer her wedding drew, the more she realised how much she had to do. There was some things the wedding planners could not do without their input, and that included organising a wedding cake.

So, Sarah and Fred found themselves sat in the corner of a bakery. Surrounded by marble floors and golden tables, Sarah felt a little out of place. From Fred's bouncing leg, Sarah gathered that he was feeling much the same. They were the only two customers in the bakery, and the undivided attention they received from the baker did little to soothe this. The white floral vines hanging from the ceiling were a far cry from the vibrancy of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

"You're telling me we have to eat six slices of cake?" Fred asked, turning away from the window. "Not that I'm complaining, but that's a lot of cake."

Sarah, peering at the small font on the menu, said, "Um...I think they're very small slices."

"I hope so," Fred said, his lips twitching into a smile, "I'm looking forward to a roast later."

Sarah shook her head, not managing to stifle her smile. On top of a swim in the lake, they had been invited for dinner at the Burrow that evening, and ever since then, Fred had not stopped going on about this supposed roast.

"You don't know if she's making a roast," Sarah pointed out, dropping the menu onto the table and leaning back into the crushed velvet chair.

"It's dinner," Fred returned as if it was obvious.

"It's not Sunday," Sarah said, beginning to laugh.

"And?" Fred gasped, throwing out his hands, "Who said roasts had to be on Sunday? Why can't we have a roast on any other day?"

"I dunno," Sarah shrugged, grinning, "But Sunday roasts are a British tradition, and your mother is very traditional."

"True," Fred inclined his head, "But perhaps today is the day she choses to live life on the edge."

Sarah scoffed, "Yeah, right."

"You never know! My Mum, she..." Fred's smile slipped away, "...she surprised me at the battle-killing Bellatrix..."

Sarah inhaled deeply at the sudden shift in the tone of their conversation. It kept happening in all conversations, not just with Fred, but anyone who was somewhat involved in the war and the Battle of Hogwarts. Even now that it was over, and everyone was looking forward to a time of peace, the war still loomed over their shoulders, casting a shadow across their bright existence.

She managed a nod, her lips pressed together, "Yeah, me too."

Sarah had spent plenty of time dissecting the Battle of Hogwarts, pulling apart of every single moment in her mind so that she comprehended it in its entirety. She was quite sure Fred had done something similar. Yet, they hadn't really spoken about it.

She knew they needed to, especially considering Fred's incident at the Burrow a few weeks ago, where he got locked in the pantry. Every time she gathered the courage to ask Fred about what had really happened, she saw his relaxed posture or his easy smile, and it all slipped away.

Fred noted Sarah's silence, "What are you thinking about?"

The answer blurted itself out before Sarah could stifle it down. Perhaps it had been trapped in the cage of her brain for too long. "You."