[1] Lemons into Lemonade ✓ | FRED WEASLEY

Chapter Thirty Four

"Aubrey?" Fred whispered as he wandered around the Hogwarts gardens, pushing aside a section of hedge in case she was lurking behind it. He'd been searching for a solid five minutes but the tearful Aubrey had seemingly vanished into thin air, so embarrassed by crying that she'd gain amazing concealment abilities. Annoyingly many students had chosen to go outdoors with their dates thanks to the privacy of the rose bushes which meant that finding her was proving harder than he'd expected due to all the sounds.

"Jackson, what are you doing?"

For a second, Fred didn't register that the surname uttered by the lips of the passing Potion master was technically his and carried on with his gentle running.

"Aubrey Jackson, what are you doing?"

Fred came to a stop a few meters away, turning around slowly to see Professor Snape and Karkaroff standing behind him.

"Out for an evening jog, what does it look like?" Fred retorted sarcastically. Snape had been a git to the Gryffindors for ages which was enough reason to dislike him by itself but it was his behaviour towards Harry that was the final nail in the coffin. Despite some of his jokes, Fred was very fond of Harry, finding him to be one of the few people who actually made a proper effort with him and George, taking their endeavours seriously when other's tended to laugh them off. Sadly, he forgot that Aubrey wasn't as sassy as he was and Professor Snape's eyes widened out of shock.

Within seconds, his face fell flat once again, "Ten points from Hufflepuff."

"For what?"

"Audacity," Snape replied, "I suggest you continue your run back to the castle."

"Nah, think I'll just run away from you instead," Fred replied, quickly hitching up the gold dress and sprinting away. Snape murmured something after him which probably meant a few more points had been deducted but he'd lose all the points if it meant finding Aubrey. 

Turning the corner, he suddenly became aware of a snuffling sound from the bushes. Pushing them apart, he found Aubrey curled up in a small ball, her shoulders moving up and down.

"Aubrey? ... You are Aubrey right, not George?"

With a start, she looked up, wiping her face on her sleeves, "I'm Aubrey and I'm fine, hon, don't worry."

Slowly, he took a seat next to her, "Make up your mind."

She turned to him, her face still red from crying, "What?"

"You said you were 'Aubrey' and 'Fine', make up your mind."

Even though it was a dumb joke, she couldn't help but laugh a little, "I'm Aubrey."

"Good, now we've got that cleared up, you're clearly not fine, do you want to like ... cry some more or..." He suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable, sad emotions were George's forte, "... talk?"

Holding her head high, she monotonously replied, "I am fine, hon, really don't worry, it's just ... it's just..."

The next part was almost inaudible as it coincided with her breaking down into tears but it went along the lines of, "This year has been a total trainwreck."

Awkwardly, he patted her on the back which she took as an invitation to cry on his shoulder onto the golden dress. Although he had to admit he (or rather) she looked amazing in the dress, the cold tears combined with the night air was a deadly combo leading to some regrets. Eventually, she slowed down but didn't let go of him simply readjusting so her head was resting on his.

"Sorry, this is awkward, I'm usually quite level-headed," She sniffed, wiping her tears from her cheeks, "It's just all so ... all so overwhelming, this isn't how I wanted the year to go at all. Well, I guess it is, I did tell my Mum 'New year, new me' and this is very new..." Her face fell as she suddenly remembered, "I said I would write to her every week and I just haven't..."