Ch. 10: Potter Watch

Song for this Chapter: Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms

dedicated to sleepdeprived for the fabulous cover !! So cute -- I love all the elements in it, the time, the writing, the look on Elle's face ! It's beautiful ~

"What the hell are you thinking?!"

The shrill sound of my tone was enough to make me reel back, and, I subconsciously reminded myself to dial back on the over fluctuation of my voice.

Behind Fred's frame, George and Lee exchanged quick glances, faces skewed to blatantly read 'danger, danger' in bright, flashing lights.

Fred held my gaze, brown eyes hard and unwavering as he crossed his arms, defensively, over his chest, leaning back in his chair as he watched my small frame in the doorway. "Someone's gotta tell 'em what is happening."

"And you think that this 'someone' is you? Are you that pompous — what would Molly say?!"

The ripple of anger that had flared up inside myself seemed to quake throughout the room, rocking both Fred and George as Lee quietly gathered the radio and his coat, tip-toeing out of the apartment as he attempted to hide behind his dreadlocks — afraid of my Medusa glare, apparently.

"You're really going to bring Mum into this?!" Fred's ears burned magenta as he adjusted his posture in his seat, sitting up so tall that it was as if a hot iron was pressed against the small of his back.

"If not us, than whom? You know—" George prodded, the more level-headed of the set, rubbing the center of his forehead.

"—Our brother's out there," Fred continued.

"My sister is out there too!" My voice was strong, but the tone of Fred's voice cut deep into my heart, making it suddenly hard for me to swallow. "W-What are you trying to say, that I don't care about the safety of my sister?"

George's gaze softened as he noted the swift change in my defense. "No, Letter, of course not. We're simply stating that it's enough reason for us to do this—"

"— you just don't understand," Fred sighed, gradually standing and slowly making his way closer to my defensive stance by the door. That assumption hurt more than he had intended, and, he could see it's affect as soon as the words left his lips.

"No, no," I spat out, lump in my throat swelling to breaking point, "you want to know what I understand? I understand that you're gonna get yourselves killed—! " My lips quivered as I tried to remain seemingly angry and unfazed in front of the twins. However, my mask was quickly crumbling into a twisted face of hurt. Fred could see my wounds as I managed to choke out, "A-and, then, when you're f-fucking gone, the-then what the hell will I do?!"

The heel of my shoe could have burned the hardwood floor beneath my feet at the speed of which I had spun out of the door behind me. Yet, even with my superhuman pace, I could still hear Fred call out for me as the apartment door slammed shut violently, shaking the whole door frame with the immense impact.

Stairs flew beneath my feet, and tears begun to trickle down the plains of my face as I found my way through the maze of a shop, fumbling around in the store's darkness. It wasn't until the shop door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes banged closed behind my body that I realized I had no where to go.

It was as if an invisible barrier had been placed at the threshold of the store-front. The darkness of night had already settled, and a heavy rain was beating against my tear-stained cheeks, washing away the salt traces.

And, in the midst of the rain, I found myself frozen.

I couldn't go anywhere. I was a fugitive, after all. I didn't have a home to run to, Hermione and I had taken care of that. Hell, I didn't even have a coat. I'd taken it off when I had come back from the store.

For a moment, the residue of anger inside my bones was enough to keep me fueled. Crossing my arms over my chest, in a feeble attempt to keep myself warm, I turned back to glare at the big, stupid, dumb, butt-ugly face of the Weasley mannequin beaming front the front of the store. 'You look like Fred, tall and dumb, and—'.

"UGH!" My sound of aggravated disgust huffed from the back of my throat as my tear and rain dampened eyes made contact with the ridiculous poster stuck on the window of the shop.

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

I hated this poster. I hated Fred and George for putting the idiotic thing in the window. I hated Death Eaters for threatening my family, for threatening people like me. But, there was only one situation that I could somewhat remedy.

It felt refreshingly nice to rip the poster off the window. My anger and my fear and my sadness mingled into a mass ball of confusion as I continued to tear up the hideous thing, feeling tears burn against my eyes as I continued to cry, as I continued to rip the paper into tiny, minuscule pieces.

Once there was nothing more I could do with the no longer existing poster, I simply stood in the midst of the downpour, watching as the bits and scraps washed away into the streets.

All I could seem to do was sob, obnoxiously loud, into the rain soaked night. The roar of water pounding on shop roofs and into storm drains was loud enough to drown out the wailing to my own ears.

For which, I was grateful.

✧

LANA'S POV:

There was dead silence in the Gryffindor Common Room tonight. Most of the older students were too tired to make much conversation, as we were still mending fresh wounds and aiding to the younger students.

Delicately, I fished a book from my stack on the table and propped it open with my good hand. Elle had always made fun of me for not buying a book bag, but, with two recently broken fingers, I was still better off without one.

"Lana," a gruff voice called out as a tenderized meat-suit of a man flopped down in the wooden chair beside me. I didn't respond to Seamus right away, and instead allowed the sound of stifled static to fill the gaps of conversation.

A swift kick from Jenna, who was sitting across from me and pretending to be reading an assignment, caused me to shoot her a pointed glare. The meddling blonde somehow managed to offer me a wide grin, stretching the bruised skin of her new black-eye.

The sight made my stomach churn. I was supposed to protect her. I hadn't. Instead, I had to pull some stunt and get the three of us tossed into detention. Some stunt that I wasn't even wanting to be apart of. That was the kicker.

I ignored Seamus for a bit longer, trying to grip a quill, but failing miserably. Unfortunately, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the Dark Arts twins, decided to break my wand hand, ruining my assignments in the process. My temper had become exceeding short these days, so in a huff, I tossed the quill on the table, splattering ink all over the three of us.

"Lana, I'm sorry," Seamus tried again. "I didn't think that those bloody tossers were gonna toss three of us into detention."

"That's just the problem, Finnigan!" I ignored the flare of pain that sprouted across my right hand as I stretched my broken bones, pointing to him with an accusatory glare. "You didn't think."

"That's an original comeback," he muttered under his breath. "Are you going to forgive me?"

"Are you serious?!"

A sixth year Gryffindor cut off the budding argument between Seamus and I. "Would you both shut your mouths?! I'm doing something important here."

"What crawled up his arse?" Finnigan snapped, shooting the sixth year's friend an awaiting glare.

Jenna, who had been busy removing the ink stains from her dress robes, decided to let out a lofty sigh, adjusting the braid in her hair. "He's looking for a magical radio station, guys. There's been talk of one, where the news can be heard on a Muggle radio if one knows the proper channel."

"Muggle items can't be used inside Hogwarts," a different student scoffed from in front of the fireplace, "you're wasting your time, mate."

"Yeah?" The determined student spat, pausing from his tinkering for a moment to watch the girl on the couch. "And Death Eaters weren't able to get inside Hogwarts either. Now they're the professors."

Ginny Weasley, who had been sitting on the edge of her seat — watching as her fellow classmates attempted to find this 'mystical' station, jumped to her feet. "Shut it, Penelope," she quipped, "we're going to find it."

Then, as if Ginny's mere will was a charm in itself, voices could be heard, muffled by static, yet still audible enough to make out some important things.

". . . Death Eaters . . . in Hogwarts, can you . . . that, Rodent?"

"It's . . . and the detentions are reported as abuses wor-. . . when bloody Umbridge . . . w . . . . . . . cu . . . —"

The static grew increasingly worse. Agitated with the terrible feedback on the Muggle contraption, Ginny reached out a deft hand and thwaped the box, hard. That seemed to make the reception a tad bit better, but not by much.

I ignored the way Seamus inched closer. Or, attempted to. There was an obscenely large abscess sprouting under his right eye. The bulbous puss sack was sprouting up so quickly that I doubted his eye would be able to remain open for much longer.

"Rodent here to leave you listeners . . . advise . . . Times are dark, bloody hell, they're dark. Rapier and I would like to remind you all,"

There was a pause in the voice, of whom I finally pieced together as Fred Weasley's. It had taken me a few minutes to make sure of the fact, but I felt fairly confident in it. However, this pause was not due to the bad reception. Something else caused this pause.

"Keep your loved ones close. Hug them a little tighter to night, for Rodent and I."

Another, new, voice came onto the radio to sign off on the segment, but I was still pondering over those words instead of listening into the last words of the broadcast. 'Keep your loved ones close', Fred's ending tone had been suggestive enough; however, there was a certain ache in his tone.

Suddenly, I wondered how Elle and Fred were doing.

"The next password will be 'Dearborn'. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night."

Then, the radio went dead.

'Keep the ones you love close, huh, Weasley?', I smirked to myself, finding a slight humor inside of myself, but knowing there was nothing funny about his words. Swallowing a hard lump of pride, burrowed deep into my throat, I shifted in my chair and cast Seamus a small, side-glance.

The fact that he was already watching me was no surprise. But, it was a nice constant in my unstable life. "You're dumb."

"You're stupid," he chided back, a painful grin stretching across his cheeks.

"I guess you're cool, though" I made sure to say, "I do forgive you . . . but, don't ever take a punishment for me again."

Jenna watched quietly from the side, and I could feel her disappointment pouring from her in waves as Seamus reluctantly gave in to my request. She, more than anyone else in this world, knew how I felt about being a damsel. I was smart enough and strong enough to support myself.

However, what she didn't know was how much it pained me to see Finnigan punished for my misjudgments. It was a burden that I was supposed to carry. Not him. Not Jenna. Me, and me alone. But, now, they were suffering. And, it was my doing.

✧

ELLE'S POV:

I wasn't sure how long I had been out in the rain, it couldn't have been for too long, and yet no one had passed by to see me — the sobbing, shivering girl in the rain. My tears had dried up, but the pang of pain still resounded within my chest.

I couldn't pin-point my hurt. Was I upset because of Hermione and Fred plotting against me? No, that couldn't be all. After all, I knew why they had done it, and while I was still mad, it did not drive my tears. There was something deeper, a fear. Fear of loosing everything and having nothing.

Images I did not want to see passed before my eyes. Fred, cold and still. Hermione, no breath in her lungs. Jenna and Lana, perishing in front of my eyes. It was all too much, this darkness. It was as if the void sky itself was pulsing night into my mind. The storm was here, and it was terrifying.

The door to the shop slammed open and Fred bounded towards me with a furrowed brow, immediately becoming drenched in the night's tears. The deep pools of brown in his irises calmed the clamorous tides in my soul for just a moment as they met mine. Many expressions passed over his features as I watched him trying to decide what to say first.

Before he could speak, I rushed him.

Fred was warm in my arms, and I shivered against the heat as I clung tightly to his chest, pressing myself against him. "I'm sorry, Fred. I'm sorry. I don't want to fight anymore," I choked out, a fresh round of tears in my throat, "w-we always are f-fighting!"

Softly, Fred kissed my wet forehead. "I love you, Elizabeth Granger," his voice was thick and broke a few times; he paused to kiss my forehead again, then my cheek, then the other one as he stooped lower, "I don't want to fight. I'm sorry too, I've been a right wanker, I know."

Sniffling, somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware of the simple fact that I looked like shit. My eyes were more than likely bloodshot and puffy, my cheeks were tear-stained and rain-battered, and in all cases I resembled a drowned rat. However, in that moment, I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

It was in the way he peered into my eyes.

And, it was in the way his lips brushed reverently, yet hastily against my own, pulling me closer into his chest. It felt familiar. It felt like home. Parting my lips from him, I sighed and pulled away, sadness turning to remorse. "We need to stop doing this."

"Kissing?"

I laughed, despite myself, at Fred's ridiculous attempt at a joke, feeling the cold rain lapping down my neck, back, and basically everywhere else. "I mean, we need to stop the cycle of arguing and kissing to make up."

"We need to get inside," Fred ignored my comment, "you're freezing."

Shooting Fred a small glare, I agreed with a frown, allowing him to interlock our hands together and guide me into Weasley's and Weasley's. Part of me thought that Fred was not taking this as seriously as I was.

The warm air of the shop hit me in droves, and caused my frozen bones to quake from the climate change. "By the way, Letter," Fred spoke up, closing the door behind us, before I could accuse him of being insensitive to my request of stopping the churning wheel, "you're right."

"Mmm, good boy."

"Mum taught me that one," he quipped, running a hand through his rain soaked hair, water droplets flinging from his maroon colored mane.

My clothes stuck to my bones, and I was suddenly aware of how naked I felt in that moment. Fred's wandering eyes didn't help. Thoughts flooded my mind, the dirty kind, quickly I averted my eyes from Fred and focused on the hardwood floors beneath my feet.

"You alright, L?"

"U-Uh," my mind pondered over the way his drenched shirt clung to his torso, draping off his broad shoulders. Shoulders. "No," I hissed out, under my breath, cursing myself for being so on and off with my emotions.

"No? I'll start a fire, you're probably catching the cold." Fred could sense something was wrong, and a more unsettled part of myself felt that he must know why. When he turned away, I caught the flicker of a wide smirk on his lips.

I grappled for something to say, and a thought came to mind that was just sobering enough for the both of us. "I want to volunteer at St. Mungo's." That caused him to pause from his tree towards the fireplace in the storeroom.

It was still quite dark in the shop, so I could hardly make out his expression from the distance between us. I wondered, in Fred's silence, what his face looked like. Was his mouth pulled down into a firm frown? Were his eyes soft and understanding? I couldn't be sure, and, he wasn't giving me any indication with his soundlessness.

All I didn't want to hear was 'you can't'. That was what I feared the most. There would be no resolution to this fight if Fred said those words, the last words I would ever want to hear him say.

"And, before you say anything, just know that I will take precautions to disguise myself. I'll charm myself, I'll change my hair temporarily, bloody hell — I'll drink Polyjuice potion for the rest of my life!" My tongue swelled inside my throat, and I could feel rain water trickling from my hair and dripping onto the hardwood floorboards, but nothing from my fiancé. "Fred, if you love me, you know that I can't simply just sit around here . . . just waiting like a housewife awaiting news about the war. I need to contribute. I need to do something. I was talking with Blake —"

"—Blake?"

'That's what he pulled out of my speech?!' Sucking in a deep, lung full of air through my nose, I continued on. "Yes. And, she said that while I didn't need to be with Hermione and the Chosen One while they do Godric knows what, I could contribute here. I want to do it." I could hear Fred stepping closer to me, but I had yet to see his face. My defenses were raised, and I was ready to fight him on the matter. "You are doing that radio station — you have no right to say that I can't do this!"

Again, I was met with the quiet sounds of water pooling at our feet and the fast-paced inhaling of my lungs, the swelling of my tongue had grown to obnoxiously suffocating proportions, and my eyes began to water. "Damn it! Fred, say something!"

"Marry me."

"W-What?" I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. "What are you — I am already!"

"No, I mean: marry me. Tomorrow, or if not tomorrow, the day after tomorrow. And, if not then, any other day after that. Let's go to the Burrow and do it."

My breath caught in my chest. Anger, agitation, confusion, happiness, love. All these emotions and more swirled in the misted mess of my mind. But, all I could do was furrow my brow in confusion as I tried to gather my thoughts and my breathing pattern, the patter of my heart singing the song of a roller-coater induced injection. "What?!"

"I love you, and I want to be married to you. We're both stubborn," his words were softer as he stepped closer to me, face finally close enough for me to see. His chocolate eyes were alight, and he was . . . smiling. Not something I had expected. "I want you to be mine."

Marriage? Sure, I knew we were engaged. But, that was a temporary state. Marriage was permanent, it was a binding contact. It was for life. We were going to wait. We were going to get through this war, and then, . . . he was afraid.

"You're afraid," my voice broke, as I peered, bleary-eyed into his gaze. "You think s-something's going to happen." I had warned him before, I didn't want to get married out of fear. That would make the whole thing seem wrong. And, if he was proposing this fast-tracked wedding because he was afraid, then I didn't want to do it.

Fred quickly shook his head, lifting up my chin with his thumb and index finger, offering me a reassuring, and loving smile. "Not at all, Letter." He smirked. "I just want to make sure that I'm definitely your's before you find a more attractive man at Saint Mungo's. That way, you can't ditch me as quickly."

"What?" 'He's saying yes?' I was a tad thrown off by his response, but I couldn't have been happier. I knew that this meant I would have to be okay with his radio station, but I put that on the back burner.

"All right, you keep repeating that word, and I have to tell you it's pretty damaging. I'm asking you to elope with me."

"What." That time, it was merely a snub at his impatience for my response.

"See, there it is again."

Blinking rapidly, I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. "S-Sorry, I'm just. Fred, there's too much happening!" I watched as his face fell and he nodded, the water in his hair beginning to dry by the amount of time we'd wasted with all these topic changing conversations. It became aware to me that my words sounded like a rejection. But, I was talking about too many things in my mind at once, not the sudden elopement. "I don't mean no," I back tracked, trying to figure out what I meant. "I just mean — I — tomorrow?"

'Tomorrow..., tomorrow I'll be Mrs. Elizabeth Rose Weasley'. It sounded rather nice. "Well . . . yes. Alright."

"Alright?" He questioned, bringing me back to the second time Fred had asked for my hand.

"Alright."

________

Here's an edit I made for shits and giggles a few years ago, for your enjoyment: