AMOR FATI . . . fred weasley

III. YOU DID WHAT IN THE GARDEN?

6/8/1995 6:42PM

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY STINK, although that may be because they've spent the last hour taking it in turns to throw up under the influence of Puking Pastilles.

Joey sits cross-legged on Fred's bed with the cinnamony sheets pulled up to her chin, fiercely (or at least, as fiercely as she can) critiquing their latest invention. And, alright, she does feel a little queasy, but it'll be worth it if they can finally find a way to allow her to skip Snape's lessons.

'Well, the good news is we've definitely discovered how to produce the puking!' she says brightly.

'And the bad news?' George prompts, his eyebrow raised.

They both glance at Fred, who's only just stopped vomiting. 'Well, um, it would probably help if we could work out how to stop it.'

Fred groans. 'But I don't understand. We've added essence of dellabonna...'

'Belladonna,' Joey corrects.

'... and Willygeed...'

'Gillyweed.'

'Whatever, willygeed is funnier.' Fred pokes Joey affectionately in the cheek. 'What's the point of your best friend being fucking brilliant at Potions if she's not even useful when you're trying to invent a way to deliberately puke?'

Joey opens her mouth to stick her tongue at him - she's so scary, right? - but before she can, there's a loud bellow two floors below. It's so loud that she swears it blows her hair back with the sheer force of its volume, and Fred and George, nosy gits, leap down to the floor to listen.

'WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!'

'Wow, I wonder who that could be,' George says, tone oozing with sarcasm.

'Sounds like Happy Harry's here!' Fred agrees.

'Merlin's socks, I hope he's alright.' Joey's frowning so hard with worry, her face hurts.

Fred grins mischievously. 'Well, there's only one way to find out.'

'Boys, don't be insensitive!' she calls out, but it's too late - with two matching cackles they Apparate away, and a moment later Joey hears their voices join the chorus of murmurs two floors below.

'They definitely will be insensitive,' sighs a nearby armchair. Joey, knowing perfectly well that it's right, absently reaches for her tarot cards.

In the wake of you-know-what, so far her coping mechanisms have been A: acting like everything's hunky-dory, B: making endless rounds of tea, over and over again, and C: obsessively reading her tarot every single morning. And lunchtime. And evening.

But at least they're not unhealthy coping mechanisms, right, so please let Joey catch a break!

She definitely, definitely didn't remove the Death card from the deck and burn it in the dining room fire, whilst Ron sat eating an entire steak, watching her like she was absolutely bonkers.

She definitely, definitely didn't obsess over even the slightest hint of a bad reading, refusing to even let the twins out of her sight for a second. But most of all, Joey definitely, definitely didn't sometimes catch herself doing readings for Cedric, just out of habit.