Blue Belle {Fred Weasley}

Chapter 88

As usual, Belle couldn't sleep. The next day she would be going to St Mungos hospital to try and figure out the hearing voices situation. She, in a way, wished she had never met Enoch despite their friendship. If she hadn't have met him, this would not have bee happening. So in short, was it her mothers' fault? 

Switching on the light, she pulled out her long-forgotten journal that had been collecting dust at the bottom of her trunk. Opening it to the first free page Belle poured out everything onto the page. 

Dear Journal,

I'm sick and tired of everything! I can't sleep, I don't have an appetite and my head kills all of the bloody time!

I wish everything would just stop, I want everything to just leave me alone. Enoch severely pisses me off, excuse my language but right now I really couldn't care less. Why can't he just leave me be? I don't know why he is doing this to me. It's not my fault I'm not like him and the others. It's not my fault that I am unable to see them. If he is dead. How did I kill him? How is it my fault?

But you want to know what is worst?

Fred. 

He is avoiding me like the plague. Yes, I haven't been myself, I still am not myself right now and I know that but he is so wrapped up in 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes', which I am incredibly proud of him and Goerge for, but we have barely spoken. 

I miss him. 

I miss him even though we are currently living in the same house. As much as I don't want him to have to deal with everything I am as it is far from fair on him, I wish I could cuddle him and just have some time with him. It doesn't seem like it will happen any time soon. 

That's all. 

Well, it's not really but I'm just not prepared to write it all. That and I really can't be bothered. I'm not in the mood to do much lately except for revising. 

Talk (probably not but maybe) soon 

~Belle Lupin, a day during August that she can't be arsed to find out the date, at 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Belle put her diary away and dragged her hands down her face groaning. She needed someone to talk to. Not her dad, not Harley, she and Bill were spending some time together, who could she talk to?

Dragging herself out of her bed, her feet padded sluggishly across the floor and into the dimly lit corridor. Her fingers ran across the wall as she plodded through the house onto a different floor where she soon pushed open a door quietly and headed over to a bed. 

Patting them softly she waited for them to wake up. Grumbling, their eyes opened and adjusted to the fact that the only light source was the dim light from the hallway. "Wrong twin, Belle," Mumbled George. 

"No," She muttered, "I got the right one."

George leaned on his elbows, "What's up?"

"Can we talk, please?" She asked just about coherently, her fingers were twitching, her hands shaking, her teeth gritted as she ignored Enoch to the best of her ability.

George nodded, she was like another sister to him and after she listened and helped him when he came out to her about Timothée Sanders, the handsome Hufflepuff, he, of course, followed her out of the room and back to her bedroom where they were away from any ears like Fred's. 

Belle perched on her bed and George sat beside her noticing all of the little agitations she had like the twitching and the shaking and the teeth gritting and so much more. "Belle, what's going on? You've been distant lately and I have noticed the little talks people have been having with you. And Fred, you two are barely with each other."

Her lip trembled and she broke down. Belle told everything to George who listened diligently, his face staying the same despite the wave of emotions that were running through his mind. She even told him things she had not told her father, Harley and Molly. 

"I hit him," She cried, "I hit him many times. If I didn't Enoch wouldn't shut up, he kept telling me to do it. I didn't want to! I swear!" 

George took a deep breath and brought Belle into a hug. "It'll be alright, Belle," He said rubbing her back, "If you tell Fred, he will understand, he might be a prat but he will. He loves you there is no doubt about that."

Belle shook her head, "No, he won't. I'm even more of a freak than before. I'm a psycho!"

George moved away from her, standing up and shaking her head. "Don't," he stated. 

Belle watched him in confusion, she still had tears running down her cheeks. "George?"

"Belle you are not a freak, never have been, never will! And you most certainly are not a psycho!"

The door opened and revealed Fred. Belle looked up at her boyfriend whose eyes grazed over her before stopping on his twin brother. Clad in his pyjamas he stood with his arms crossed over his chest and had one eyebrow raised. He had no idea what was going on but whatever it was he wanted to know about it and he wanted to know about it now. 

"What is going on?" He questioned, his voice deep and rough from his sleep but nonetheless demanding. "Why are you crying?" He asked Belle, his tone not changing.

Belle looked away from him. 

"I meant what I said, Belle," stated George who brushed past Fred and left the room returning to bed. 

Fred looked Belle up and down and despite being hurt by the fact she had hit him, he couldn't help but worry for her as he very much loved her and cared for her still. Belle couldn't bear to look at him, the boy she had hurt physically. 

He took a seat beside her and she turned away from him again. "Bella?" He asked softly, "talk to me."

Belle didn't respond. 

"Is this about the voices?"Her head snapped around to face him. "I have extendable ears, I have a mother who was talking to your father. Bella, why didn't you tell me? I understand, I really do. I don't care if you don't want my help or that you hit me. Hearing voices is going to be hard on you. But know that I am here for you no matter what. Now come here and give me a cuddle."

Belle fell into her boyfriends' arms and he lifted her onto his lap. "Freddie, I'm scared." Belle whimpered. 

"You don't have to be afraid, Bella, I will always be here when you need me."