Black {Fred Weasley}

-sixteen-

I tossed around in my bed. I looked at the clock on my nightstand, and groaned. 2:23 am. This was beginning to be the second day I've had with no sleep. My friends mentioned something about visiting Madam Promfrey for a sleeping drought, but I didn't think it was worth the effort. My mind fluttered to Buckbeak. After the incident with the third year class, I knew he would be killed. My heart ached for Hagrid, and the innocent animal. I sighed, and threw my feet against the floor.

Sarah snored softly, as I snuck by with my bookbag. I crept down to the common room, and relit the fire, wrapping a blanket around my legs. I started on some homework that wasn't due until next week, knocking it out of the way. I also went ahead and made a copy to give to one of the twins. I rubbed my eyes, and checked the time again. 4:47 am.

A high pitched noise screeched, causing me to flinch, covering my ears. That didn't help, so I knew the noise was inside my own head. I groaned, pressing onto my head as it began to pound. I gasped as my vision cleared, but I was in the common room anymore.. I stared at the Whomping Willow in front of me, as a black dog emerged from the base. A whispery image of a stag stood tall, as a Werewolf howled at the moon. A stout looking man, cowered in the corner of a dirty room, shaking.

I yelped, and I was back on the couch, staring at my hands in front of me. I could hear my pulse in my ears, as it gradually calmed down. My eyes flicked back onto the clock. 4:49 am. I must be sleep deprived... I knew I was lying to myself, but it sounded better than facing the truth of what just happened to me. I took a deep breath and tried to shake the images from my head.

What were they suppose to represent? Was this the future? The past? Was it a warning? "I'm losing my bloody sanity." I said out-loud to myself. I ran my fingers though my hair, my thoughts snapping back to my dad. It's almost like I forgot he was on the loose. After he snuck into the castle, he hasn't tried to contact me. Which, frankly, I couldn't decide if that was a blessing, or a curse. Of course, I missed my father, but I didn't know who he was anymore. I don't know the stranger, disguising himself in the shell of what once was my hero.

Why couldn't I have a normal life? An average family? A mother to turn to advice too? A father to look up too? I became angry. Why did my life seem to be on a constant spiral, downwards. I threw my books off my lap, slinging them across the room. I felt the need to hit something. All this built up frustration, confusion, and pain fueled this feeling.

I felt like I was forced to grow up and face the truth. My mother was murdered, and my father let his guilt land him in jail. He pushed his daughter to the side, while he attacked his old friend. What would have been different if he had raised me? If my mother never died?" I stared at the ugly figurine on the fireplace. It looked like a twisted monkey, wearing a crown. I clutched the stone in my palm, squeezing it. Then, I pitched it against the brick wall.

"Liz?! What is going on?" A voice barked from behind me. I snapped my head around, seeing Fred, watching me carefully. It seemed all of the emotions I felt seconds ago, were stripped from my body. "You haven't been mad enough to change your hair color in awhile." He muttered, taking another step towards me. I looked at my bangs, sticking out in different directions, that were bright red. In a flash, I turned them back to black.

Growing up, it was hard to hide my emotions, due to being a metamorphmagi. If I was sad, my hair would be blue. If I was mad, it would be red. It took a lot of focus to control my ability. Mostly trying to hide my emotions to avoid the questions that typically followed.

The boy clutched the side of my head, making me melt into his touch. "You're burning up.. Have you slept any yet?" I shook my head, gaining a stern look. "You need to sleep. Other wise, you're going to start hallucinating." He looked around the room at the papers and books strewn across the floor, and now the broken figure in pieces adjacent to the wall. "Why are you so frustrated? You've never taken it out in anger before." I pulled away from him, shrugging. "Once I figure it out, I'll let you know."

"You don't have to face it alone you know." I froze. "Either it be your father, your homework or your feelings, you don't have to shut down. You have me. And even if you don't want to tell me, you have Sarah, Ginny, Hermione, even that idiot, George. We all want to help you." "I don't need help." I snapped, throwing my guard back up. He sighed.

"I'm not saying you need the help. But don't act as if we aren't there for you. You face the world as if it is a war of one. We all know how you feel, Liz. I don't like seeing you like this. Seeing you struggle and hurt, bothers me. It bothers everyone you're close with. But we can't ease your mind, if you never let us in." His fingers traced into mine, as he brought them to his lips, kissing my hand lightly.

The knot on my chest shrunk a little, as I weaseled myself into his arms. "Why do you have to be like Molly, and know everything right to say?" He chuckled. "Because George is clueless like dad." I breathed deeply against his chest. The musky, cinnamon smell of his skin, burned my nose, but it smelt like home. "I think I will go see about that sleeping drought now." I muttered, the weight of exhaustion becoming more apparent.

Fred kissed the top of my head. "I'm proud of you." Those four words washed over me, landing against the deep pit inside my chest. Almost as a key would fit inside a door, but it wasn't the right key to unlock the door. I smiled and pecked his lips, feeling slightly lighter.

~~