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AFTER CEDRIC'S DEATH, many things had changed, even if at first it was not necessarily realised. It was undeniable, even though the Ministry was trying to hide it, Lord Voldemort was back. Hogwarts had been infected by the parasite that was Dolores Umbridge. The lady in pink was, unfortunately, not as ridiculous as her appearance seemed. In reality, she was simply barbaric, and hid her sadism under a "proper Ministry approved education". Both Fred and George despised her — especially after a Quidditch match against Slytherin had ended with the twins and Harry receiving a lifetime ban from the sport.
The only light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be the growing connection between Angelina and George. Of course, it went without saying that all flirtation was forbidden by Umbridge herself, so they had to keep it to a minimum. Ban something and you could be sure everyone had the sudden urge to do it. Fred had ended his ambiguous relationship with Angelina a few months prior. It had been awkward at first, but Fred was grateful the holidays gave her some time to heal.
Nothing seemed better for Fred after the holidays, however. Emilia had ignored him and nearly everyone else after Cedric's death, something that he thought inappropriate to try to change. She would speak to him when she was ready, or he'd never hear from her again. It was beginning to feel as though the latter was more likely.
The last time they had spoken had been not too long ago, perhaps only a week or so. Fred had just been leaving Umbridge's office, his hand painfully sore, when he ran into Emilia. She was leaning against a large archway, staring ominously out a window. It didn't take for her to notice him, and she mustered up what smile she could as he approached. Had he forgotten how much she could fascinate him? A little, assuredly. That almost intimate moment was not going to help him heal, on the contrary. Neither were in a cheerful mood, so Fred made no attempt at a joke.
"It stops hurting after a while," Emilia said gently, holding up her own hand, which look much nastier than Fred's. Somehow it seemed as though she had managed to get more detentions with Umbridge than himself or George. "She's a nasty woman, is she not?"
"Very," Fred agreed with a nod, his hand throbbing more by the minute. He shoved it in his pocket, not wanting her sharp eyes to fall on the still fresh scar that the bewitched quill had inflicted on him. A little compassion and human warmth wouldn't have hurt him in the end, but he was too proud to lament his fate. "What are you doing up here, anyway?"
"Looking for you. . . surprisingly," She replied softly, her eyes avoiding his, "George told me that you got detention with Umbridge."
"And you thought to come fight the kraken for my honour?" Fred joked lamely.
"To make sure you were okay," Emilia corrected, and his heart skipped a beat at her words. He would imagine if she were not looking directly at him now, a large smile would've found its way onto his face.
"Have I gone crazy or are you worried about me?" Fred let only a small smile grace his lips.
"Be quiet and show me your hand," She snapped.
Fred didn't want to do that. Whilst she had been more than willing to display her wounds, he would prefer not to show her such a gruesome sight. For the first time, he looked at her coldly and shoved his hand deeper into his pocket.
"No," He replied.
It felt somewhat good to refuse her something. He felt almost avenged for the times she had ignored him without an ounce of remorse. The Ravenclaw's eyes slid from his face to the hand in his pocket, and she raised a brow.
"Fred. . . let me see your hand, please."
Emilia wouldn't laugh at him, it wasn't her style, but her sudden curiosity was strange to say the least. Was the injury all that attracted her? Fred felt uncomfortable under her strict gaze, but his face remained passive and he moved back slightly.
"No," He repeated, "And there's nothing to see."
As intrusively as he had been in the past, Emilia suddenly grabbed his wrist had forced his hand out of his pocket. A painful expression slipped onto his face, but he resisted crying out. With his good hand, he pushed her away abruptly. The two teens stared at each other for a moment before Fred turned to leave. Emilia blocked his exit and grabbed his wrist again, more aggressive this time around.
"Don't you understand when I say no?" Fred snapped, pushing her away again.
"Show me."
Furious, he took his hand out of his pocket and thrust it in her face. "There! Take a good look!"
Emilia made know move to inspect his hand any closer than with her eyes, and Fred didn't know why, but it irritated him to no end. The Gryffindor closed his eyes for a moment before sighing. He was pissed off for no reason. Fred dropped his bruised arm down to his side, heavily, before leaning against the wall.
The girl in front of him that began rummaging through the pockets of her own robes, muttering on about something she had. He watched her do so without a sound. She pulled out a small, round box of worm metal, which she removed the lid before reaching for Fred's hand. With infinite delicacy, she methodically applied the contents of the box on the wound.
Fred didn't dare speak, let alone move or show his pain. He couldn't recall ever feeling so inept — Emilia was certainly full of surprises. When she finally finished, she moved back and closed the box. The balm she had applied had a strong smell of plants, which Fred found quite unpleasant.
"Every night, as long as the pain persists," She explained calmly, handing the box to Fred, "Try not to waste it. It takes a while to make."
"You're brilliant," Fred blurted out, too in awe of the pain subduing to care.
"I'm going to dinner, but I'll see you around," Emilia told him and left him before he could argue.
Fred watched her leave before returning his attention back to his hand. It still stung, but not nearly as badly as it had. Whatever the Ravenclaw prefect had conjured up, was something short of a miracle.
