Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(59) Small Spaces

"No teachers so far?" Nicolai asked as George emerged from a corner. They had been there for approximately two hours, and counting. And still they could hear Florence banging on the door, only stopping for a few seconds before continuing on.

"She's never going to stop, is she?" George asked, sliding down beside Alexander, who shook his head.

"Nah, she will stop. That's Fred's job. You know, if he does it right."

"Does what right?"

He rolled his eyes, "Convince Florence to stop being such a raging bitch around him...or more..."

"Shouldn't she have tried to use her wand to get the door open?" he said, knowing that the girl was smart enough to find a solution.

Alexander smiled, retrieving Florence's wand from where it was tucked in his pocket, "I snatched it out from her robe pocket before Nicolai shoved her in."

"Yeah. I did the same with Fred's" he chuckled.

"Okay," said Nicolai, "I'm actually worried now. What if she ends up murdering him?"

"Nic!"

"What? That is a possibility. If it gets suspiciously quiet, we press our ears to the door and listen in."

"No," said Xander firmly, "Honestly, Nic, could you stop looking for reasons to eavesdrop on them. We all agreed that by doing this, we'd give them their privacy to actually talk things out."

"On another note," George pipped up, "Florence hasn't been quiet for even a second. So that is a strong indication that Fred is still alive..."

"You two are unbearable." Alexander muttered.

---

"Xander!" Florence yelled for what seemed to be the nth time, knuckles red as she continued rapping on the door as loudly as she could manage. Fred had given up long ago, and sat slumped on one corner of the small space. Knowing his brother's persistence, he knew that there was a possibility for them to spend the night in the tiny supply room if they did not sort things through.

"Florence. . ." he said, the first attempt he's done to communicate with her, "Give it a rest. They aren't going to open that door even if you screamed until your voice is hoarse."

She frowned, "That's because you aren't even helping me. You want to get out? Help me get us out of here. Give me your wand. One of them took mine before they locked me in... smart gits..."

"I don't have my wand on me. It's with George."

"So how are we going to get out?"

"I don't want to," said Fred, silencing Florence. Even he had surprised himself with his reply, "I don't want to get out just yet. I think they're right, you know. We have to talk things through."

"I don't want to talk to you. We've done enough talking."

"We haven't," he argued, "Honestly? I've been trying to explain to you why I did what I did. And you refused to listen—"

"I did listen to you, to all you had to say." she shot back, both of them in opposite corners of the small room.

"You were only hearing what I had to say, Florence, not listening. When you listen to someone, you have to understand what someone says..."