Dancing In The Storm •Fred Weasley•

Chapter 8

•This story takes scenes from the Harry Potter series. I want to make it clear that I don't own those scenes. That's owned by
J.K. Rowling. Thank you•

~Scarlett~

I twiddled my thumbs as I sat on the other side of my mum's desk. It felt like I was in trouble, like I had just done a prank with Fred and George that went terribly wrong and I was about to be expelled. But what was worse, was that I was being reprimanded by my mum. The one person I've ever feared.

In front of us, the Marauder's Map lay open. Names moved across the parchment, footsteps littering the ground. Mum's eyes followed the names around the school, only stopping every once in awhile. I was waiting for her to speak, but at this rate, I'd be dead by the time she even looked up at me. I cleared my throat nervously.

"Um, you called me here?"

Mum looked up at me as if she were only just realizing I was there. But that was impossible as I had brought her the map, as she had asked. Though she immediately looked back down at the map after meeting my eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but she finally spoke, "I want to talk to you about your father."

The word 'father' was still so foreign to me. As if it came from another language. I had never found myself needing to say the word until just recently. But what had really shocked me was that she wanted to talk about him.

"The map clearly sees me as Mrs. Padfoot," Mum started, "meaning I'm still married to your father."

My eyes widened as her words processed in my head. It was so obvious, yet I hadn't even thought about it. I didn't even give it a second thought.

"But, if you're still married...where is he?" I asked.
"I don't know where your father is, Scarlett. I know he's alive, and I know he misses you dearly. But we can't see him," Mum sighed.
"And why not?" I scoffed.
"We just can't Scarlett," Mum stated.

She was pulling at her already greying hair. She had bags under her eyes. Her beautiful smile was something I almost never saw.

All because we moved? Or was it the Ministry of Magic? The dementors? Maybe it was me?

"No. Not 'We just can't.' I want an answer, Mum," I growled.

Mum glared at me, but I knew she didn't mean any of the threatening looks she sent me.

"Dumbledore. He gave me specific instructions. I'm not supposed to tell you who your father is, where your father is, why your father's not here. You weren't even supposed to know I'm still married to him! He doesn't know I'm still married to him!" Mum responded, her deep frown deepening even more.
"How does he not know?" I questioned.
"He was told I divorced him." Mum muttered.
"But why?" I pushed.
"Dumbledore," Mum shrugged.
"Dumbledore? Why the bloody hell are we listening to Dumbledore?" I spat.

She glared at me again.

"Because Dumbledore knows what's best for us."
She struggled to say the words. As if it physically hurt her. She knew it was a lie, but she also knew she had to say it.

"Right. Now all of a sudden you listen to Dumbledore. Do you think I'm mental? You bloody hate Dumbledore!" I exclaimed.