You Don't Know How Much I Need You {Fred Weasley Love Story}

Chapter 2 ~ Meetings...

As we walked through the newly-made gateway and into the unpenetrable crowd that filled what I remember being called the "Diagon Alley," I couldn't help but to look over at Nico.  His face was filled with complete awe as we tried to walk down the packed streets, only to find it impossible. 

First we headed to Gringotts, a wizard bank.  When we entered the bank and opened our vault, we'd found that our parents had left us a fortune.  Stacks and stacks of coins were piled in the vault.  Hagrid said he'd never seen that much money.

After Gringotts, we made our way down the streets of Diagon Alley.  Slowly but surely.  I looked down the list.  I found that I needed a lot of things, which meant that I would have to go to a lot of stores.  Which implyed that I had to walk down this street for a long while.

I looked helplessly up at Hagrid, who grunted and cleared his throat, muttering how it was never this busy.  Then, without warning, he bustled me and Nico into a store as quickly as possible.

Before Hagrid had shoved us into the store, I had managed to steal a quick glance at the store sign.  Flourish and Blotts, it had read.  But I didn't have to question what it was as soon as I stepped inside.

Books upon books, stacked on top of one another and lying in endless shelves became heaven to my eyes.  Most of them, I probably, possibly, hoped, I hadn't read already.  But that was hard, seeing as I had read almost all of Albus Dumbledore's vast collection.

I squealed in excitement as Nico, being my polar opposite, groaned as loudly as possible.  And he was, quite frankly, my polar opposite.

His fair hair was completely different compared to my long, dark hair.  And his striking, electric blue eyes glinted, always present with mysteriousness were nothing compared to my unnatural lavender eyes.  They were so light at times, they looked almost grey.

As his hair was wavy, mine was bone-straight.  Just the way I liked it.  My slightly butt-like chin suited me very well, as did my square face.  My brother's face was round and didn't have a cleft-chin.  And as my brother's mouth never took a break from grinning, even at the most serious moments, my full lips rarely ever contract a single twitch that could be considered a smile.

I haven't really smiled ever since. . . you know.  And the smiles I give to Professor Dumbledore could be a million times warmer, if the circumstances weren't so. . . heart-wrenchingly painful and, well, bad.

Even the ones I send toward Nico now aren't as happy as they used to be.  Ever since the murder of my parents, I have been a dark cloud, raining on everyone's parades.And I know it's sad to think that I've been depressed for this long, but when you watch the woman and the man that brought you into the world suddednly slip away, you tend to find it hard to recover.

I mean, granted he was tiny at the time and didn't know the full truth until about three years ago, imagine what Mr. Harry Potter must/must've feel/felt.

But when a cold hand landed on my shoulder, I was snapped out of my thoughts long enough to spin on my heel and see what or who was behind me.  And as I twirled and came face-to-face with the person, I instantly felt my insides go cold and my head wanted me to turn up my nose in disgust and walk away, but I resisted the urge, though it took all my willpower.

Standing in front of me was a pale, weasel-looking boy with white-blonde hair and startling grey eyes that were dripping sarcasm and hatred and many, many more words to describe how much he hated some people and wished that he could Crucio them until the begged for mercy.

Finally, after I choked trying not to scream in outrage as I looked into the boys cold eyes, I glowered and said, tightly, "Who are you, and what the bloody hell do you want?"  I didn't know why I felt this way towards the boy.  I just couldn't help it.

"I," the boy sneered, "am Draco Malfoy."  His face twisted into an evil grin.  "And who, may I ask, are you, dear?"  I smacked his hand away as he tried to touch me.

"I am Aurore Beauregard, not dear," I growled.  "And don't touch me, pipsqueak!"  He had made a move for me again.

I had come to the conclusion that he was younger than me.

"I am a fourth year!  I'm not a little boy!" he snapped.  "And you can't be much older than me!"

With that, he stormed off and met up with a man with a mean-looking face and long hair the same color as the boy's.  I assumed that he was his father.

I huffed and went back to searching for books for school.  Nico had finished before me.  Like way before me.  It seems he's allergic to bookstores and books and stuff.  He hates being in bookstores for more than ten minutes.  So when he had finally bought every book he needed for school, he speed-walked out of the store, only to collide with a girl no older than him.

They started talking and soon, he was headed to a different store with her.  Florean's Ice Cream Parlour.  I smiled at him making a friend.

I bought my books and headed out the door when I heard someone call out behind me.  I figured they were talking to someone else, so I kept walking.  But a second later, someone was tapping my shoulder and panting down my neck.

I spun on my heel to see who it was.  It was a boy about my age with ginger hair and a silly grin on his face which I could tell was never invisible for long.  I smiled back at him.  This boy, I knew, could be trusted.

"Yes, sir?" I asked him, sincerely wondering what the problem was.  I cocked my head to show that I was interested in what he had to say.

"Uh, er, um. . . you, uh, left this," he stammered.  He held out an alien book to me.  His face went slightly pink after he said this.  I was guessing he wasn't used to not being able to talk to girls.

Just then, I heard an identical voice call out to him.  "Oi, Fred! What're you doing?!"  A boy, completely the same as the one in front of me, rounded the corner.  I stepped back in astonishment.  They were the same right down to the last freckle.  I wondered how their mother told them apart.

The boy in front of me twirled around to face the other boy.  "Not now, George," he hissed.  He turned back to me, a bit more red than before.

The boy called George put up his hands in mock-surrender and went back to wherever he was before, but not before winking at me and smirking.  I smiled at this.  I mean, I really smiled.  I also chuckled a little.

"Well, anyways, Mr. Fred," I said, only slightly mocking him, "that is not my book.  I've never seen it in my life.  Though it does look quite intriguing."  I took the book from his hand.  "Now if we're done here, I better get going.  I have to gather up my brother."

The boy, erm, Fred, nodded awkwardly.  "Alrightey then," he said shyly.  "I'll see you around.  You know, maybe at Hogwarts?  What house are you in?"

I stared at him.  I had no idea what he was talking about!  What house?  Albus never told us about any house.  "I'm sorry," I said to him, very embarrassed at my lack of knowledge, "but I do not know what you are talking about."

And at that, I walked away. 

But not before he asked, "What's your name?  At least let me know that much!"  I turned around slowly before calling back, "My name, Fred Weasley, is Rory.  That is all you may know. . . for now."

And then I headed off again, leaving him to think of me.  So I'm playing the mystery card, am I? I thought to myself.

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A/N: How was it?  Tell me! And thank you for reading!! And also, if you're a Draco fan, check out my other story! It's called The Betrayal Of Hayley Potter.

Your Author,

Aleia :]