AMOR FATI . . . fred weasley

VII. ACCORDING TO GEORGE

the early hours of 5th october

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

FRED'S FUNNY WITH HER for the rest of the month, and George would find it hilarious, actually, if Joey wasn't so obviously hurt by it.

    Naturally, in true Joey style, she's been pretending everything's as hunky dory as can be, and that she isn't bothered by Fred being even more weird than usual. But she is and George just wants his brother to get his shit together, honestly.

    What pisses George off the most is that Fred isn't even attempting to be subtle about it - like, yeah, he might not realise he's jealous or even why he's jealous, but still. He doesn't have to keep dropping Roger's name like a Cruciatus Curse in every single conversation, much to Joey's bemusement.

    Like yesterday, for example, whilst Joey was yawning to death over breakfast at the Gryffindor table: 'So, Joeypoos, does Davies prefer Pixie Puffs or Cheeri Owls?'

    Or this morning, even, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, when she was bursting with excitement about a Hogsmeade visit this weekend, and Fred asked in a very loud voice if she'd be going in with Davies. Not deafening, per se, but loud enough for Roger's ears to twitch, and Umbridge's eyes to narrow threateningly, although she didn't even give him a detention.

    In fact, come to think of it, Umbrella (as Joey's so fond of calling her) seems to have a personal vendetta against Joey alone, which pisses George off because that's his little sister. He reckons it's probably to do with Cedric - hence why Roger's still being punished just as severely - but still. It's shit.

    She shouldn't have to be punished just because her best mate accidentally bumped into old Moldy Voldy. Actually, fuck that: he shouldn't have died anyway in the first place. It's all a load of dragonshit if you ask George. And even if you're not asking him, he'll tell you anyway. You're welcome!

    Honestly, he has no fucking idea how she's still smiling, even now as she enters the Gryffindor common room after yet another ordeal, way past midnight, her cheeks tinged rose with giddy excitement.

    So George grins, pushing his reading glasses up into his hair and leaning back from the parchment they're poring over. Which isn't schoolwork, of fucking course.

    'Hey, m'lady,' he says, patting the space on the tattered sofa in between him and Fred. The rare concentration on Fred's face deepens, sour, as though he's intentionally avoiding her. George debates seizing his head and thrashing it repeatedly against the fireplace - Merlin's tits, anything to get him to see some fucking sense.

    'Guess who I just bumped into,' she breathes, excitement blooming across her acne.

    George rolls his eyes. 'Hello to you too, George, how honoured I am to spend another evening in your presence...'

    She laughs at that, shoving his shoulder playfully with both her tiny palms. 'Shush, you plum. Anyways, I just bumped into Hermione, and she told me Harry's going to hold a meeting about Dark Farts or something, and it's really important, in Hogsmeade this weekend! So we're gonna go, right?'

    Fred finally glances upwards from the parchment and George knows - thanks to twin telepathy, sure, but also because of the fact that his brother's just a dickhead - what he's going to say before he even says it. He can't decide if he wants to faceplant forever, shove Fred off the Astronomy Tower, or, maybe, a bit of both.