dedicated to AmberWeasley936 for a cute jewelry store dream that I'm stealing - credits to her ;)

Ch. 35: I'm Sorry [Part Two]

Song For This Chapter: Lay Me Down - Sam Smith [listen to this bruh]
             dramatic, grab some twizzlers and popcorn [sorry Ron, but twizzlers FTW]

     "Elle, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Hermione asked me, for what felt like the millionth time now as we strolled down the bitter, snow frosted, streets of Diagon Alley. There were less people around than usual. It was a day before Christmas Eve, but the shops were almost all boarded up, thanks to Death Eater attacks. 

     My heart churned apprehensively in my chest. No, "Yeah, why do you ask?" 

          "You just seem really down. Is it because of what the Healer said?"

     Chuckling, I shook my head, feeling fake as I forced my eyes to crinkle in feigned happiness. "No, don't even worry about it, 'Mione. I'm fine, really. Let's get some ice cream."

     Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour was one of the remaining shops that still received regular business, and as we walked in, it still had it's charming warmth to it. I remembered the first time I had visited this place. I was with Hermione; she and I were just starting to get to know each other and she had been telling me about her friends, Harry Potter to be exact. 

     Those days seemed to have passed within the blink of an eye. It was a wonder how I'd adjusted so well. 'Well,' I reminded myself, feeling low once more as we stepped up to the ice cream bar to order our sweets, 'Almost well adjusted.'

     Hermione decided on orange tart and pumpkin juice while I ordered Lavender and Earl Grey, the most logical combination I could think of at the moment. As we sat down at a small booth, I groaned a sigh of relief, shedding my over coat. It felt nice to be out of the cold, and as I pulled my coat into my lap, I fluffed out my frizzed hair, shaking the clumps of snow flakes from it. 

     "So, what are we doing today?" I asked her, spooning some tea flavored cream into my mouth while Hermione swirled her ice cream with her spoon, seeming as if to be in a far away place.

     Hermione dropped her spoon and offered me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking." She pulled her hand up from underneath the table and rested her chin on it, turning her focus onto me. "Barely anyone is here today."

     "Well," I mused, eyes passing towards the wide window my sister and I were seated at, watching the snow lightly drift to the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. "It is during a snow fall. Plus, with everything going on, I don't imagine that this place would be exactly 'hopping'." 

     Hermione sighed watched the few, rushing shoppers race past the window, heads shielded from the bitter wind and sleet. The snow was quickly melting towards more slippery consistency, and I shivered at the thought of going back out there. 

     "You're right," Hermione nodded, scooping up some brightly dyed ice cream. I nodded in response and ate some more of my tea flavored one.

          Time continued on this way: small talk and devouring ice cream. 

     "You want to go window shopping?" Hermione asked, scraping the bottom of her cup. "We haven't really got much to do today," she suggested, tucking her hanging end of her scarf under her coat, not wanting it to drape over her empty dessert cup. 

     "Okay," I nodded, slowly sliding out of our booth and tossing my empty cup in the bin while Hermione scrambled up to follow me, a happy smile on her lips. "But, it's cold so where do you wanna go that is close?" I smirked at her, sliding my arms into the heavy over coat, feeling as chilly as the weather outside.

     I couldn't understand why I was feeling so low, it was seriously beginning to piss me off. It had never bothered me before, the prospect of not having children. I don't even like children. They are messy and smelly and sticky, plus they are dirty little creatures. 

     Hermione and I linked arms as we stepped into the onslaught of sleet and snow, dodging the few busy shoppers that passed us by, umbrella charms covering their heads. "Did you happen to pack an umbrella, 'Mione?" I asked, nodding towards her small, hand bag.

     Frowning, my sister shook her head, "No, I didn't think sleet would be coming down during this season. It's a shame our birthday isn't a few days sooner - I know the perfect charm too." 

     "I guess we'll have to run," I mused, offering Hermione a childish smile as we stood under the awning of the ice cream parlor. "Where should we go first?" 

     We found ourselves skimming the shelves of Flourish and Blotts, searching for interesting reads we hadn't seen before. The whole place stunk of fresh paper and ink, and it was surprisingly warm, a nice place to hang around. 

     Grabbing a random, medium sized book from the self, I turned towards Hermione with a raised brow. " 'Mione," she hummed at me in response, nose buried in a random book about trolls. "How are you - with the whole Ron thing?"

     She paused, and a heavy blush seeped over her cheeks before she snapped the book shut with a frown and a small grunt of hatred. "Ugh, I'll be just fine. Can you blame me for being annoyed?" 

     I giggled at the irritation on my sister's face and turned my attention towards the book in my hand. It was a book about the ancestries of the Hogwarts Houses. Nothing particularly interesting. "If you want an easy way to relieve your anger, just hit him."

     "That's hardly appropriate," she chuckled, closing her book with an exasperated huff, running a hand through her wild locks. "I'll be fine, Elle. What about you?" She peered up at me with innocent, wide eyes. "I know you've said you're fine, but -"

          "- Hermione Jean," I stressed her name, "I really am fine. Really." 

     There was the tinkling of the bell over the entrance doors and I turned in morbid curiosity to stare at the girl who came in through them. When my eyes met the pitch black hair and side-glance of gleaming, purple eyes, I ducked back behind the shelf, catching Hermione's attention.

          "What's going on?" 

     Raising a brow, I slowly crept around the shelf to watch where Rachel went; she always raised my suspicion. I shushed Hermione quietly and ducked behind the other side of the bookshelves, motioning for her to follow me as I stalked the suspicious girl around the bookstore. 

     Once I felt that I was in a secure enough state, I watched as she strode elegantly down a magical remedy isle, tail of her coat flapping around her as she did. I could see half of her face as her tired, red-rimmed eyes scanned the books in search of something. I realized that she looked extremely tired, and perhaps depressed as well - quite a different appearance than that of what she showed in Hogwarts. Maybe the majority of Slytherins were still humans. Just, maybe. 

     I could hear her sniffle as she yanked a weathered, gold lined book from the shelf that seemed as if it probably weighed about twenty pounds. She weighed it in her palm and flipped open the front cover, allowing me to see the title, 'Magical Object and How to Repair Them, V-Z'.

     Hermione lightly placed her hand on my shoulder, watching the Slytherin with me. "Elle," she whispered, pulling me from my hiding spot and away from the mysterious Harvard girl. "Perhaps we should leave?" 

     "But -," I huffed out a sigh of indignation and, as I glanced back at Rachel, I noticed that she had disappeared from the isle and was now half-way through paying for her purchase. "Okay, 'Mione. I get to chose the next place though." 

     Hermione chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, ducking her head with a sweet smile. "I like books. Besides, I figured you could pick up something for late Christmas shopping - if you needed."

     "Late Christmas shopping?" I clutched my heart with a melodramatic gasp. "Hermione - it's like you don't even know me."

          "Mhm, I think I know you particularly well, Elizabeth Rose Granger." 

               "I know you better, Hermione Jean Granger." 

     "Really?" Hermione snickered lightly as we stepped into the shiny shop, enchanted light shining everywhere to make the wears look even better. 

     "What?" I prodded, faking a pout. "You don't like looking at jewelry?" 

     "Well, I mean...," Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling her coat off and tucking it around her arms, holding them close to her chest. "I assumed you were not interested in these kind of things. I'd predicted you would take us to the cauldron and potion shop a few blocks over."

     "I knew you would," I waved her words off, stepping towards the brightly encased emerald and diamond rings. A few of them were actually charmed to bring good fortune, or protect against certain elements. "Which is exactly why I decided to mix-it-up." 

     Hermione seemed to find my excuse worthy enough and she nodded, stepping up beside me so we could browse the odd rings, necklaces, and bracelets together. The older, mystical woman behind the front desk watched us with an amused grin, obviously we were not the first girls to come into her shop merely to ogle the merchandise. 

     She pointed towards a set of rings, tiny little silver things with latin engraved on the sides. "Those are enchanted," she nodded, "they protect you against Dementors." Then, she told us a price, generously cutting it in half for 'us'. 

     Hermione spared me a withered glance. It was a fact that after the Death Eater attacks had gotten exceedingly bad, little stalls and even stores began selling 'charms' that would keep away magical beings like werewolves, vampires, and dementors - along with other creatures. While many of them didn't do anything, there were the rare few that actually harmed people. Mr. Weasley had been promoted to the head of the force trying to stop the sale of these 'charms'. 

     "Well, thank you," I nodded, keeping a placid smile on my lips to be polite. "But, I think we're alright." 

          "Suit yer'selves," she waved us off, directing us towards her more expensive rings to peer at, when the sound of a tinkling bell altered the presence of a new customer. The lady grinned at the sight and she held up a thin, wrinkly finger. "Hold on one minute, dearie! I've got it in the back - in a gift bag." Then, she whipped around, velvet cloak adding to her dramatic exit as she went into the back-room. 

     Footsteps drew closer to Hermione and I, and the unsettling feeling of being watched from behind made me uncomfortable, but I ignored the person as they approached, hoping they wouldn't bother Hermione and I. 

     "Well, this is an ironic sight, isn't it?" The man chuckled, stepping between Hermione and to rest his hands against the glass case holding the charm bracelets we had been window shopping. "A pretty girl looking at pretty things." 

     I blushed and bit my bottom lip, fighting the smile that threatened to break my face in half. It was the same smile that always broke over my face whenever I was with him. 'Godric, I'm hopeless.'

     "That word you're saying," Hermione picked under her nails, shooting him a small look of distaste. "I don't think it means what you think it means." 

     I failed in fighting the breaking smile and it spread anyway as I chuckled at my sister and my boyfriend, watching as Fred's face contorted in confusion as he thought over what he'd thought irony meant. "She's right, you know." 

     Fred grinned at me and bent down, pecking me lightly on the lips and causing butterflies to explode in my stomach. 'Every time... ugh - so pathetic.' But, I couldn't bring myself to care, I only realized how much better my day seemed now that he'd walked into it. "It's been too long, Letter."

     "How long has it been, three days?" Hermione quipped, arching a brow at him. I stifled a snicker at her irritation towards the Weasley. It honestly wasn't his fault his brother was on Hermione's shit list, but I still found it hilarious. 

     Fred winked at Hermione, "Four days and..." he paused, squinting up at the ceiling as if it held the secret of the world. "I think three hours." He was wrong, but it didn't matter. 

     "So, Fred," I cocked my head to the side, motioning towards the fancy place we were standing in. "What are you doing in a place like this?" 

     "Picking up a present," he replied nonchalantly, slouching as he leant against the glass case. "I bought Mum a nice Christmas gift this year; I figured that I might as well do something nice. Georgie and I are doing particularly well despite the hard times." 

     "That's nice of you," I nodded, watching as the older woman came back handing Fred a velvet bag that was the size of an average grocery bag. 

     "Here you are, dearie," she smirked, winking at him with her heavily applied blue eyeshadow, "I made sure it was all in there. Good luck, and, have a Happy Christmas, you hear?" 

     Fred took the bag lightly from her and shrugged. "Well, you know me, Madame Rey, just trying to get by." Frowning, I glanced from Madame Rey to Fred, confused about why he would need luck giving his mother a Christmas gift. Beside me, I could tell Hermione was just as intrigued.

     "Oh," Hermione blinked rapidly, as if smacked with a memory she hadn't remembered until now. "Henry called the house this morning. He said he can see you tomorrow, I told him you'd be more than happy to see him."

     Fred paused in his sifting through his bag and glanced up at me, taken a bit off guard. "Wait," he chuckled, "Whose Henry?" 

          "NO ONE!" I blurted out, feeling my stomach hit the floor. Panicking, I turned towards the front of the store where an antique clock was hanging, "Is that the time?! Oh, wow - Hermione, we need to go." I grabbed her arm and pulled her behind me.

     "-But -" Hermione's brow contorted in confusion.

     "Yup! Time to go - see you later, Fred!" I yelled behind my shoulder, pushing Hermione out of the door before putting my head back inside to send him an apologetic smile. "I love you, you know that?" 

     Fred frowned, glancing from me to Hermione standing in the snow fall, confusion stamped on both of their faces. "I love you too, Elle?" 

     Once we were out of the store, Hermione spared me a wicked smirk and I caught it, furious. "You little witch," I hissed, hitting her shoulder as we walked to the Leaky Cauldron. "You know that's going to bite me in the ass, hard. Right?"

     "S'rry," she chuckled, "I wasn't even thinking about how you went out with him - it shouldn't be a big deal." 

     The next day had passed rather quickly despite the fact that I spent most of it locked inside a dentist office, having my teeth cleaned. I guess time flies when you are dying not to see your boyfriend and having to explain to him who the man cleaning your teeth was, and possibly explain how you went on a date with him - but it wasn't exactly a date, more of a dinner between friends....

          I was thinking over it so hard that I had begun sweating. 

     "Are... Are you alright, Elle?" Henry asked, actually concerned about the precipitation that was progressively pebbling my pale brow. "You look ill."

     "I-I'm fine, I'll be fine." I told him, thankful that he'd taken his fingers out of my mouth so I could talk instead of responding with jumbled gargles. Henry gave me the benefit of the doubt and turned back to my teeth, finishing them off with a polish. I had to remind myself to congratulate him later on reaching 'dentist' level.

     Once it was over with, I opted out of the flower that Dan wanted to give me. "Honestly, dad," I offered him a small smile, "I don't need it. I'm sure Hermione has a sixth sense about these kind of things." From behind me, I could hear Hermione clearing her throat, telling me she'd heard that remark. "No offense."

     Dan chuckled and put the flower back in the vase, "That's probably true, Elizabeth. Okay, then." He waved goodbye to Hermione and myself so he could return back to his office, needing to set up for the next appointment before they came in to see him. 

     "Oh, Elle, honey?" Jane called from behind the front desk. "Hermione told us that you wanted to go to a party on Christmas Eve, I just wanted to tell you that you may."

     "Thank you," I grinned, but my smile faltered as my gaze flickered towards Hermione as she lounged in one of the waiting chairs, book in hand. "But, isn't Hermione joining me?" Jane seemed taken back at that and told me that she hadn't heard anything from Hermione about that subject. 

     Turning around I yelled across the dentist office. "Hermione! You're not coming to Fred and George's party?!" 

     Hermione lightly closed her book with a bookmark I'd bought her a few years ago and glanced up at me, shaking her head. "Nope. Sorry."

     "You don't sound sorry..." I whispered under my breath.

          "What was that?"

               "Nothing, nothing."

                    "That's what I'd thought," Hermione replied, earning a glare from me.

     Jane got the rest of the day off, so Hermione, Jane, and I all spent the day at home making sugar cookies and adding more decorations around the house, as if it really needed any more. The house was already stuffed to the brim with Christmas spirit, any more and I feared the place would explode with tinsel and evergreen.

     Once the sugar cookies were out of the oven, I practically stuffed myself into a sugar coma - the last thing I needed at that moment. The cookies felt as if they were filling a void, so I ket stuffing more and more into myself, until finally I realized my plate was empty and I was feeling really ill. 

     "Ugh," I moaned, " 'Mione - I don't feel well." I complained, laying in bed, wrapped in my blankets but feeling hot from all the sugar I'd consumed. 

     "Maybe, Elle, you shouldn't have eaten all those cookies." 

          "Thank you, Captain Obvious," I groaned, clutching my stomach in agony. She rolled her eyes, sitting up in her bed across from mine, muttering under her breath, 'you're welcome Sergeant Sarcastic'. "Sass is not your strong point," I reminded her, relaxing against my cool pillows. 

     "If you are feeling depressed," Hermione sighed, "eating a bunch of sweets is not going to help. Just talk to me, Elle." 

     "I'm not depressed!" I rose my voice, annoyed about the continual assumptions she tossed at me. "Can't I just have a bad day for once?" My stomach gurgled in irritation, reminding me not to get too over excited or I may blow. 

     "Elle," Hermione lowered her voice to a softer tone, contrasting my sharp one. "One bad day isn't the same as one bad week. Just, just know I'm here for you, okay?" 

          I offered her a small smile, gingerly rolling onto my side and carefully slipping my eyes shut, not wanting to upset my bowels. "I'm fine," I whispered lightly, earning a sigh from Hermione as I tried to find sleep. 'I'll feel better in the morning.'

     I was right, I did feel better when I woke up. My stomach pain had vanished and my spirits were higher than they had been for a few days. I felt happy. Then, Hermione tossed a pillow at my face. "Wake up! You over slept!" 

     "Whmph yoer-" I moaned against the downy pillow, pulling it from my lips so she could understand me. "What are you talking about?" 

     "It's almost one in the afternoon!" Hermione told me, pacing at my bedside. She was already prepared for the day, dressed in nice pants and a blouse, hair tucked in a dutch braid. "If we have to take you back to Miss Dragon for depression, I will forcibly drag you." 

     "What are you on about?" I groaned, rolling out of bed - a bad mistake due to the fact that my frame is a good two feet from the bedroom floor. I hit the ground with an inaudible thud. "Ouch! Son of a -" I glanced towards Hermione's stern eyes, "- biscuit. I was just in a sugar-induced coma. I feel better; if you don't stop telling me that I'm depressed, I will literally slap you." 

     Hermione bristled at my words, but backed down. "Fine, fine," she placed her hands on her hips, staring down at the ground where I was laying, clutching my now throbbing head. "Well, get off the floor I guess. Mum and Dad want to bake a few more batches of cookies for the neighbors today."

     My stomach ached with the memory of last night's mistake. "Ugghh, no more cookies." 

          "Then don't eat them." 

     "Don't tell me what to do," I retorted, awkwardly making my way onto my feet after wobbling around on the ground for a few seconds. Hermione tossed her hands up into the air in frustration, muttering about how there was no winning when it came to arguing with me.

          She was right, of course. 

     A little later, I was elbow deep in sugar cookie dough, kneading it before we cut Christmas shapes into it. It was a sign of how weak I was when my arms began to cry out in pain, whining that they were tired. While my calves were pretty freaking amazing due to the castle stairs, my arms needed serious attention.

     "So, Elle," my mom's light voice called, pulling me away from the bitter thoughts about my chicken arms. "You are going to your boyfriend's house tonight?" 

     I could immediately tell, by the tight tone her voice had taken, that she was in 'mother mode'. "Don't worry, Mum - Fred's harmless. Besides, it's more like his office. He lives above his company," I smiled, but she didn't seem too reassured. "Also, a lot of other people are going to be there: Blake, Lee, George, and even Angie," I stressed the nickname, keeping myself from rolling my eyes. 

     It wasn't fair, really. Angelina was a nice girl, just aggressive. An aggressive bitch. And, I appreciated that about her - especially now that she was no longer interested in Fred. Now, she was apparently dating some Russian Quidditch player ranked two places above Oliver Wood in Keeper.

     Something told me that she was dating him just to spite Wood. But, who was I to judge?

     "Oh," she dropped the serious nature and allowed her light smile to break her lips again. It was in that moment that I realized Hermione and I had our mother's grin. "Well, that's good, dear. Just, remember to stay safe."

     Hermione snickered to herself as my face flushed practically purple. "M-Mum, I - We - He... I'm... Just, no, okay? I'm not... I'm not with him that way," I blurted out, flinging my hands in the air dramatically, getting dough on Hermione in the process - for which she glared at me. 

     Jane's eyes widened in horror. "Elizabeth Rose Granger! I was talking about travel! I wasn't referring to - to sex," she whispered the word, frantic, "I'm not so sure if I want you to go any more!" 

     "Nooo," I melted on the spot, embarrassed as I smacked my head against the countertop. "Mum, I said nothing was happening - please, can we just drop it?" Jane opened her mouth to respond with another comment, but luckily Hermione was there to save me.

     "Mum, I think your batch is burning," she nodded towards the oven, immediately getting Jane to forget the topic for the time being. She wasn't one to allow the neighbors to be served burnt cookies. 'How nice.'

     Hermione chuckled as our mom ran to the oven, preoccupied. "Oh, thank you Hermione - you're a life saver." She mimicked a bad representation of my voice. I shot her a small look of disdain, crossing my arms over my chest. 

     "If it wasn't for you, Fred never would have heard the name 'Henry'."

          "Maybe you shouldn't have gone out with him," she teased, rolling a ball of sugar cookie dough up so she could eat it. "I already apologized."

          "I know," I responded, rolling out a pile of dough to be cut. 

     "Alright," Jane piped up, balancing a hot tray in her mittened hand, placing it lightly on the counter. "I'm back. Elle, perhaps we should have a little conversation -"

     "-Oh, look at the time!" I interrupted her, pulling my bare wrist up to my eyes as if to stare at an imaginary watch. "I have to go take a shower and get cleaner up for the party. Sorry Mum, would love to talk about bees and birds, but I've got to go!" 

          "I was going to talk to you about your flossing!" She rose her voice, alerting me that I'd messed up. Dropping the rolling pin onto the counter, I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, ignoring my mother's protests and Hermione's giggles. 

     I spent my precious time in the shower, absorbing all the hot water into my pores; it helped the knots that seemed to be tightening inside my muscles from my unknown stress. The Healer's diagnosis really had an effect on me, but not because of the fact that I couldn't have kids, not by a long shot.

     As I stood under the steaming jet of water and soap, I knew the real reason I was sad and maybe even a tad bit depressed. Fred and I could never work out now. There was nothing I could give him later in life.

      Fred wanted five bloody children!

                                                      Five!

     "I can't even have one." I felt terrible. I felt broken. "There's something wrong with me," I whispered to myself, feeling a sob bubble up in my throat as I tried to scrub my scalp with my shampoo. My attempts at distracting myself were feeble and practically nonexistent. 

     I allowed myself to seep in self pity for an half an hour, scrubbing my skin clean as I wondered why, after everything I had been tossed through, why I had to go through this as well. It was costing me everything: my sanity, my relationships, my health.

     "I'm losing my fucking mind," I cried, eyes stinging as my salt tears hit the steamy air and soap. Cursing once more, I rubbed my eyes raw and sucked up all my self worth. "Come on, Elle - you're amazing. You're awesome," I chuckled humorlessly at my second-rate pep-talk, knowing I was being a cry baby. Many people had it a lot worse than I, especially right now. Death Eaters were killing people - and I was crying over potential babies.

     Summoning my resolve, I took a couple deep breaths and steadied my ridiculous sobbing. I hated crying, I hated feeling weak. Rising the rest of myself off, I shut off my shower and grabbed my towel, quickly drying myself before returning to my room. 

     "What to wear," I whispered hoarsely to myself, rummaging through my drawers, finding busy work to keep myself off the thoughts in my head. I grabbed a white, cotton baby doll top and tossed it onto my bed while grabbing some brown leggings and tossing them onto the mattress as well. Following that was a light cardigan that missed the bed and landed on the floor, but I was too lazy to pick it up at the moment. 

     'It's not as if being able to have kids really matters right now,' I reassured myself as I paused, hands hovering over my underwear drawer. 'Besides, Fred and I are just dating at the moment - it's nothing serious. I'm over reacting.'  Blinking back the mist in my eyes, I yanked open the drawer of unmentionables, "Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though..." I murmured to myself.

     Having my OCD kick in, I grabbed a matching bra and underwear. Everyone knows that when they match, you're in for a good day. The little things in life, those are what I should be enjoying. After I put on my top clothing, I tossed my sopping wet hair up into the towel, getting it out of the way. 

     "Elle, are you still here?" Hermione's voice called from outside our bedroom door, knocking lightly incase I was 'indecent'. 

     I smiled at her worry and slid up my leggings, hopping from foot to foot. "Yeah, whaz up?" 

    Hermione cracked open the door and grinned at me. "You sound better. When are you leaving, soon?" She came inside and flopped down on her bed, grabbing her newest read that lay partially open on her night stand. 

     "I think so, what time is it?" I asked her, but answered my question by glancing towards the analog clock that we shared, the one that screamed loudly on the day we had to go back to Hogwarts, telling us to get out of bed or we'd be late. 5:00 o'clock. I have some time. 

     Hermione cracked open her book, but her eyes were focused on me as I muttered foul curses under my breath, tossing my uncomfortable heels from my sight. Like hell I'd wear heels in this kind of weather, or ever. I settled on my thick, rubber soled boots. "Have a good time," she offered me, as if that would really seal my night with good tidings. 

     "Thank you," I smiled at her, pulling the towel from my hair and running a comb through it quickly, before my curls took over the world. Thirty minutes later, my face was painted on and I was in the fireplace, wishing Hermione, Jane, and Dan a merry Christmas, promising that I'd be home for Christmas. 

     "Weasley's and Weasley's Joke Shop," I called out, tossing the Floo Powder onto the dirt caked bricks beneath my feet. Suddenly, my world swirled uncomfortably around me, sucking me through time and space. Little flashes of Christmas homes passed over my eyes as I saw into a million different houses. 

     Finally, I was spat out of the fireplace, surrounded by vials of random potions and brightly wrapped candies. The familiar scent of toffee and polished wood immediately attacked my senses. "Well, you're late," Fred's voice called to me as I stepped from the gate, brushing the soot from my shoulders and legs. 

     "Late? I was under the impression that this was a dinner party. It's barely six." I grinned, peering up the staircase as Fred stood at the top, the sweater Molly knitted him proudly displayed on him. I grabbed the wooden rail and lightly walked up the stairs, straining my ears for any other people in the apartment, but I found there was nothing to hear, except for light Christmas music. 

     "Where is everyone?" I asked, taking the hand Fred extended as I opened the front door, met with an empty home. "Did you lie to me?" I cocked a brow, glancing towards my boyfriend with a smirk. "You do realize that Hermione was invited too. If you were trying to be sneaky, you would have failed."

     "I told Hermione it was a surprise, actually, Letter." He slid his hands into his pant pockets, offering me a sheepish smile, as if he was the smartest man in the world. He led me to his homey, second-hand table where an interesting dinner was set up.

     "Did you make this?" I asked, gingerly picking up a fork to poke the pasta with, not sure if it would be edible. I couldn't remember if Fred was actually intelligent in the art of cooking. "Is it edible?" 

     Fred rolled his eyes at me and motioned for me to sit and the seat across from his. "No, I didn't make it. Blake did," That's reassuring, I said to myself, sarcastically. Fred must have seen the cautious way my face contorted and he chuckled. "I know - not very reassuring, but George promised that Blake was one of the best pasta makers he knows."

     Smirking, I decided to follow Fred's instructions and I sat down at my place, feeling suddenly nervous. If I'd known Fred was planning a surprise date, perhaps I would have dressed up more. Too late now, I guess.

     Fred chuckled to himself and sat down across from me, watching me with his light humor. I watched him in confusion, but a gentle nature. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. "Okay, alright - you've got me. What's the occasion?" 

     "Our anniversary, Letter," he shrugged, causing my stomach to churn apprehensively. "I'm offended that you don't remember." 

     "What are you talking about?" I questioned, thinking back to the fact of our obviously rocky relationship while I picked lightly at my pasta, pushing a tomato around my plate. "We haven't made it a year yet." 

     Fred shook his head. "I count it all," he winked, shoveling some pasta into his mouth as I waited for him to explain himself, feeling familiar butterflies in my stomach at the sight of him. It was an odd sensation, loving someone and knowing they loved you back - perhaps more than anyone else had ever loved another human being before. 

     "I'll bite," I sighed, crossing my ankles, "What makes Christmas Eve our anniversary?" 

          "Our first kiss," Fred reminded me. 

     Blushing, I ducked my head; he was right. I remembered it now, as if it was just last week or so:

          "Hey, Fred?" I bit my lip and wrapped my arms around his neck lazily. He looked at me curiously but didn't say anything. "Thank you for waiting with me... It means a lot."

          He smirked and chuckled. "Anytime Princess. Any time." I rolled my eyes and laughed softly. The whole world was slowly fading out of my view, I was totally engrossed in everything Fred. 

          Slowly, I cautiously edged my lips close to Fred and kissed his cheek lightly. "You're a nice guy... under it all."

          Fred touched his cheek with a small shocked face and rose a brow. "Under it all?" He chuckled and rolled his eyes, teasing me. "You missed."

          Frowning, I looked at his confident face. "What?"

          "You missed." His pointed to his lips. "My lips are right here."

          Snickering, I rolled my eyes for the umpteenth time and leaned in close to his face. Quickly, I pecked him on the lips, shocking him and even myself. Was that my first kiss? It was so quick I could barely remember how it felt, but I could feel how badly my lips were tingling. 

          Fred froze up and stared at me as if I'd slapped him, and maybe in a way I did. "Be careful what you ask for?" I blushed and left my head fall so I could glare at my toes. Suddenly, A warm hand was under my chin and lifting my face up to meet Fred's. 

          "I'm never careful." He replied and kissed me back before I could reply. It was not a quick kiss, but a slowly and careless one. I couldn't help but feel as if I was in some stupid, cliche, teen-movie. But I had to admit that it was the best second kiss I could ever ask for.

     My blush was clearly evident on my face, but I hid it by turning my gaze from Fred's chocolate eyes to the pasta in front of me. "That doesn't count," I murmured lightly, the butterflies in my stomach wrecking havoc. "You know that."

         "It counts for me, you know." 

     "I don't think it works that way, Fred," I snickered, taking a sip of the water beside my plate. "But, I guess it's romantic." Setting my water down, I glanced back towards Fred and sighed, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, feeling low once more. "You know I love you, right?" I asked him, knowing I needed to tell him about my condition sooner or later. 

     "You know I love you, right?" He mimicked me, eyes shining with happiness, but as I remained cold, I watched him tense up a bit. We ate in comfortable silence for a while, but I felt began to feel uneasy, and I knew Fred could sense it. "You alright?" 

     I chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, just tired. I've had a long break," I told him, rubbing my temples, leaving my pasta practically untouched. "I've got to tell you something, actually." 

     "Okay, well Letter," Fred grinned, sitting up. "I've got to tell you something too - well, ask you something. I'll warn you though, it's a bit of big news."

     I smirked morbidly at this, shaking my head, "I think mine's bigger. But, you go ahead." I stared meekly down at my plate while Fred nodded, getting up from his seat to rummage through the drawers in the kitchen, raising his voice so I could hear him from the dining room.

     "I wasn't planning on doing this until later, so, sorry," he came back with a hand in his pocket, offering me a tense smile, making my heart churn in my chest. I flinched as he came closer, coming onto my side of the table and lightly taking my hand. 

     I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, but when he awkwardly wobbled onto one knee, I was filled with dread. Fred pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and I began shaking my head 'no'. "Don't do this," I whispered, "I don't think you wanna do this right now," my voice cracked as I thought about what I needed to tell him.

     "Elle, don't worry. I get it, you're nervous. Bloody hell, I'm scared out of my wits right now too, but don't think of this as set in stone for immediately after your birthday. I just want you to know... I'm trying to say...," Fred frowned, fishing for the words that he wanted to say while I sat there, mortified. 

          He wouldn't understand if I told him, why was he doing this to me?

     "Elizabeth Rose Granger," Fred took a deep breath, steadying his shaking words. "Elle, would... would you marry me?" 

     My bottom lip quivered furiously as I let the tears stream from my eyes, catching Fred off guard. "I-I'm so-sorry. Fred, I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, dropping his hands as I got up from my seat and back away from him as he remained in his spot, kneeling in front of no one. "I-I-I can't ma-marry you," I sobbed, feeling like a fool. "I-I-I'm an i-i-idiot, I'm s-s-o sorry." 

     "Wait, Elle," Fred got up, looking as if he'd been slapped. "Calm down, talk to me -"

          "I'm sorry," I managed to choke out, backing up slowly towards the door, "I can't d-do this to y-you." 

               "Do what?" He begged me, setting the intricate ring on the table, discarded as he came to comfort me, trying to figure out my sudden attack of tears.

     "I can't - I can't," I wailed, an ugly sob of a sound, as I stuttered over those two words, "I-I can't, can't have chi-children. I'm so sorry," I rigorously scrubbed the tears that had cascaded down my cheeks and I rushed towards the door, yanking it open so I could get out of there as fast as possible, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. 

          "I'm sorry."   

FRED'S POV: 

          'Well, that was a disaster.' 

     "Elle, wait -" I yelled as the door to George and I's apartment slammed shut, "Damn it," I cursed, running a hand through my hair with anxiety. She couldn't leave through the fireplace, we didn't have a Floo Network from our side yet, and the only way out would be Diagon Alley, in a snow storm. 

     "Stupid Letter," I sighed, rushing out the door, making sure it was locked as I raced through the shop, looking for my sobbing girlfriend. The front door slammed shut in front of me, so I took a deep breath and followed her out, knowing that she wasn't properly dressed for a storm like this. "ELLE! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I hollered over the billowing wind, seeing her in the distance, running nowhere. 

     "Stop!" I yelled, racing after her. Luckily for me, I had considerably longer legs, so I caught up to her in now time. I took her arm as she tried to yank away, hair already coated in fresh downy. "Elle, just come back inside."

     She was still sobbing pretty hard, but I opened my arms to her, pressing her head against my chest. "I-I'm sorry, I know - I know you want kids," she cried, tears soaking through my sweater. 

     "Elle, let's talk about this inside." Swallowing the lump in my throat, I picked her up and walked us back to the shop, getting us out of the weather. Once we were in the warmth of the joke shop, she still continued to shake with hysteria. 

     I brushed her long hair away from her wet face, trailing my fingers over her weathered cheeks. "Letter, hey, calm down," I whispered to her as she clung against me, breaking in front of my very eyes. "Shh, it's alright, woman."

     That earned a small, half-attempted chuckle through her tears. "I-I-I understand if you-u'd want to br-break up -"

     "Don't be ridiculous," I pulled my arms around her tighter, hugging her to myself. "All over kids?" I questioned, smiling as I felt my own eyes beginning to water at her mental state. "I hate kids."

     "N-No you don't," she wailed, crying harder. Obviously I wasn't doing a great job reassuring her. So, I continued to hold her in my arms, until her tears ran out, until her shoulders stopped shaking, until the late hours of the night made themselves present with the darkness in the shop.

     Over and over again, Elle told me she was sorry, that she couldn't have kids. Every time I'd tell her it was alright, she shouldn't apologize. Gingerly, I helped her upstairs and laid her down in my bed, so she would feel safer, honestly I didn't know what I was doing. I'd never seen her this broken before. 

     "J-Just, stay with me tonight," she sniffled, clutching my sweater tightly, eyes rimmed red. "I'm sorry for being such a mess."

     I grinned, half-heartedly, down at her. "You're always a mess." 

          "I hate you," she responded quietly, voice barely more than a broken whisper, but even then, I could hear her sarcasm. Kicking off my boots, I slid onto the bed and pulled her into my arms, hoping that my presence would be enough. 

     "I'm sorry," she murmured once more. 

          "Say that again and I'll kick you out of my bed."

               There was a small pause, an echoing quiet the seemed odd compared to the long hours of hearing my girlfriend break down next to me. After a few seconds, when I thought she'd fallen asleep, I kissed her lightly on the forehead, earning a sigh from her. "I like you."

                         "I like you too." Don't worry, Elle. I'll take care of you.

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sorry if it's choppy ;( I had no time, but I wanted to get it out. Check out the song - it's for the last bit.