Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(30) Sense of Clarity

Nicolai had began spending time alone, which bothered Florence to huge extents. Even George she had avoided with great effort, and it began worrying Alexander, too. No one knew what was going on but George, whom she told about her plan to isolate herself for a little while, only until she could figure out what the hell it was that she was feeling.

Florence on the other hand, seemed to have felt that George had something to do with Nicolai's worries, as he was the only one she spent the most of her time with for the past few days. She wasted no time in consulting Alexander about her theory, and they got their heads together at Transfiguration, the two sitting at the very front while Nicolai chose to sit with a Slytherin girl—minding her own business as she sat solemnly in her seat.

"Well if it really is George's fault, what do you suppose he's done to make her so upset that she can't even talk to us about it?" Alexander asked her in a whisper, his eyes darting towards McGonagall every few seconds to see if she was observing them or noticing that they weren't paying any attention to her lessons.

"I-I haven't got a clue. But I remembered once that she and I talked about them being official. I asked her if she was bothered that George hasn't made things official yet and she said no. Now that I think of it, I don't think she was telling the truth."

"It can't be that, Flo, Nicolai isn't a crybaby. It has to be something bigger than that."

Florence shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "That doesn't make things better, Xan. If it isn't that, then it means that George hurt her. So much that she can't even talk to us about it." she said worriedly, moments of silence following her words. She felt some sort of new emotion bubbling up inside her. Whether it was George's fault or not, she felt the need to be mad at him.

"Why don't we just talk to George, then."

"What?"

"Talk to George Weasley. Confront him about what he's done to Nic."

"Civilly, Flo, right? We're going to talk to him in a calm and composed manner?" Alexander clarified, knowing that there were only two possible ways that it would go. It would either mean that Florence would sit down and simply talk things through calmly or she would hex his eyelids close and swear at him like a whiskey-obsessed divorced bloke.

He feared that she would go for the latter, as she'd always go for the latter when her friends were involved.

It took Florence a moment's worth of hesitation, "Maybe." she muttered, Alexander giving her a look. "No, absolutely not. I will not, on any grounds, accompany you to talk to George if you don't promise to me, now, that you will refrain from screaming, swearing or using of any hexes—harmful or not."

Florence crossed her arms over her chest, "Fine—"

"Thank you..." Alexander sighed,

"—I'll go by myself then." she said stubbornly, to which Alexander reacted to by tugging at his hair frustratedly. "Florence. Please. We haven't even got any proof that it's George's doing that made her so miserable. You shouldn't attack him, okay? It's not right. Even if he deserves it."

"We have to resort to some drastic measures if he really did fück her up, you know, mentally—"

"Excuse me, Miss Price, I would take it, that as a person who has been studying my lesson in the same room for five school years now, you would know the rules regarding vulgar language." Professor McGonagall's voice interrupted their conversation, Florence looking up at the older witch in haste.

"Yes, yes I do, Professor." she replied solemnly.

"If that's the case, then I would have to dock five points from your house." McGonagall said, pursing her lips before looking back at the rest of her students, "Right. Now, on with the discussion..."