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4. Regret [Fred]

[ for (quotev user) ;; @ Hermione150 ]

A dimly-burning fire illuminated the shadows that had begun to slide behind the furniture, its last few divergent, dying embers perfectly mimicking the colors so dutifully draped around the room, reflecting off the red-and-gold trinkets trimming the tops of the shelves and tapestries trailing down the walls. Whatever little warmth it offered only paled in comparison to that which was radiating from right beside me.

He'd refused to head back to bed, despite all my protests that he'd need as much sleep as possible, especially considering the fact that tomorrow his first class was that of the only person I'd ever despised after spending only fifteen minutes with. She'd been the subject of half our remaining conversation. I wasn't the type to rant; at least, not normally, but when Professor Umbridge was involved, nothing was even slightly similar to normality.

"She just can't see in front of her own nose," Fred remarked rather readily, as if he'd been dying to mention her incompetence all night long. For all I know, he had. After all, he hadn't stopped me from going off on my tangents, and he'd only seemed to agree with every bitter point I'd bequeathed upon him - and maybe that had just been him being kind, but I knew him well enough to know that if he'd held any opposition, he'd have said something. "Completely incompetent, not to mention ignorant."

I wrinkled my nose up. "That's just the tip of the iceberg."

"What? You mean like how the Ministry's all converting us into a bunch of pathetic little children who worship them religiously and demand we kiss their dirty feet?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Good, that. With the way she's teaching, we're all going to end up tactless and helpless in front of Voldemort and his cult," he snorted, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a defeated sigh.

My breath caught in my chest and I felt a synapse of pain shoot through my subsistence, striking a nerve that I didn't even know still stood within me. Suddenly my eyes were no longer on him, but to the side, downcast beneath a layer of lashes and taking in the woolen substance of the carpet, somehow now of a strange sort of interest to me. The couch was being impaled by my fingernails, but that wasn't something I particularly cared about, not then, at least, not when those thoughts were in my head, not when I couldn't shake myself awake from this torturous train of thought, not when -

" - Chloe? What's wrong?"

As quickly as it had come it had gone, and I was back in my own mind, and my breathing wasn't shallow and hard, and there weren't any scenes of images fabricated in front of my eyes; only Fred, face contorted with concern. I shrugged it off. "Yeah, of course. Just thinking." They weren't exactly lies, because I truthfully had no idea what the previous few moments had really been...then again, they were a bit far from the whole story. The silence that followed was welcome. It allowed me to calm down, to remind myself that I was still there in the Gryffindor Common Room, next to Fred. All was well.

And then I found myself blurting out, "There has to be something we can do."

The instant that those eight words left my forsaken mouth, I bit down on my tongue, squeezing my jaw shut and praying that I would just shut up before he could've internalized what I'd said, but as per usual, they went completely and totally unanswered. Fred's brows brought themselves closer to one another, taken aback by my perceived burst of unforeseen courage, undeniably intrigued but at the same time reluctant to press the issue. "Why're you so motivated, all of a sudden?" he asked inquisitively.

"I don't want a repeat of - what happened." It all made sense then, after hearing myself speak of it, recounting that which I had tried so desperately to keep discreet, deep down within the most remote chambers of my mind.