Dancing In The Storm •Fred Weasley•

Chapter 31

•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 let out a sigh as I took in the sight of the common room. Red and gold banners were half strung up and half fallen to the ground. Streamers littered the room from the floor to the ceiling. Empty bottles of Firewhiskey were scattered, and some with the rest of it in a puddle next to it.

The room looked awful and was not a pretty sight to wake up too.

"Reckon we've missed breakfast?" A voice asked across the room. Looking up I spotted Harry leaning against the stairs that I had just appeared from.

"Probably, but we can just go to the kitchen," I shrugged. It was a Sunday so it's not like we'd be missing any classes.

"Yeah and that way I don't have to see other people," Harry huffed, walking over to me. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No of course not. You'd be insane to have put your name in the goblet," I denied, leading the way out of the common room.

"Ron disagrees," Harry muttered under his breath, running to catch up with me. He fell in step with me, slowly making our way down to the kitchens and avoiding people as best as we could.

"Well don't listen to Ron." I awkwardly waved at a first year Slytherin that was watching us. "He's just jealous anyway."

"But I don't understand why! I don't want to be doing this!" He ran a hand through his messy hair. "I don't have a death wish!"

I shrugged, not really sure what to say.

"You're usually pretty good at this, Scar," Harry huffed. "Give me your wise words."

"Honestly I could use a bit of wise words myself..."

Harry frowned at me, observing my face as if it would tell him what to do when comforting an older girl.

"Have you tried writing to your mum?" He questioned.

I scowled immediately. I had tried. So many times. But every time I sent a letter filled with pleads for advise on what to do, or just a rant of how bad this year's gone so far, I just get it sent back to me.

"Yeah but she never responds."

Harry raised an eyebrow at me. "Really? Both your mum and dad have sent me a ton of letters."

That just made me even more angry. Who does that?! I've cried at night because of how bad I ache to be in my mother's arms, her warm hands running through my hair, hearing her soothing words, and tasting her comforting tea.

I could only assume Harry's gotten as many letters from them that I've sent to Mum.

"Whatever," I sighed. "Just please let me know if she mentions me at all."

"Yeah I'll let you know."

So that means she hasn't asked yet.

Two months at Hogwarts and she's not at all concerned about her daughter?

I angrily tickled the pear in the portrait, which squirmed uncomfortably before swinging open. We stepped inside, immediately being greeted by a dozen house elfs.