Chapter 35: The Valentine's Day Fiasco....

Just end me now.

That's what has been circulating through my head all day today, and it's not even Valentine's Day yet - today unfortunately is the 12th day of February and already girls are batting their eyelashes and guys are loosening their collars in anticipation.

Of course, the girls were excited for chocolates and sweet cards, but the guys were only looking forward to Seamus and Lee's 'annual' party they threw on the night of Valentine's. I, of course, didn't want to go and was set on not going, until Lana demanded I will and even threatened she would get so drunk that if I wasn't there, someone would take advantage of her. At first it said "That's your problem, not mine." And began walking away, but then images of Lana passed out on a couch made me groan and turn back around, changing my mind.

However, the reason I wanted to disappear into the void, never to be found again, wasn't the party. It was Valentine's. Just like when people came flocking to me when the dance was here, they came flocking back for 'love' advice and what they should write on their stupid little cards.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sweets just like the next American sugar addict, but I'm literally shit when it comes to love poems.

"Eeelllliiiiizzzzaaaa!" Blake called from the bottom of the staircase leading up to my room. I'd gone up from dinner straight to bed - not wanting to hang out or be harassed, it was difficult - but I'd managed to escape without anyone noticing, everyone except Blake. "I need your help! How should I write George's lovveee letterer?"

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW!?!" I screamed down at her, angry and fed up with this. She was at least the third person to ask me how to write one and every answer I'd given made them shake their heads and giggle in curiosity as to why I sucked so bad at poems.

"What's your problem?!" Blake screamed back, trudging up the stairs to see me personally. Huffing, I fell across my bed and curled up next to my cool pillows in anger and embarrassment. I was embarrassed because the poems weren't really what were making me go crazy - it was Fucking Fred.

Blake slammed open the door and rolled her eyes playfully at my red-faced stare, shrouded in blatant embarrassment. She chuckled and tucked some fly-away curls behind her ear as she sized me up, sea-foam eyes calculating and wired.

"Who even let you in here," I hissed like a serpent from under my mass of pillows and comforter, "you Slytherin."

"Lee Jordan," she confidently battled back. Flopping down on my bed like a ray of sunshine, Blake was either completely oblivious to my radiating annoyance or simply didn't care. I was sure it was the latter.

Fighting a fit of giggles as she watched my grumpy face, Blake sighed. "So, Elizabeth, what exactly is your issue? You do realize it's the time for love, right?" Her eyes lit up teasingly as I squirmed away from her prying eyes, deeper into my nest of a bed. "Maybe you're on your monthly, ey?"

"Not!" I yelled at her and sat up, brushing myself off. "No."

Blake grinned at poked my cheek with a snicker. "So, what is your issue?"

"I'm just tired of people asking me to help them with their Valentine's," I snapped. But, I quickly backtracked, realizing that my attitude was truly starting to give PMS. It was less friendly than Blake deserved. "I'm just crap at poems, Blake. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I gazed up at the intricately carved Castle ceilings that arched above the Gryffindor dormitories, letting the air completely leave my lungs before lazily glancing towards her direction. "I just... hate Valentine's Day."

"Careful" Lana waltzed in, hearing my exclamation, and jumped on the bed with a smirk, making my bed groan under the weight of three women. "That sounds terribly of bitterness."

"True that." Blake nodded and jumped off the bed in a huff. "Well - I guess I could always to the classic: 'Roses are red,' poem! See you guys latteerr!" She hollerd, trampling down the stairs and out of the Common Room with a 'BANG'.

"Eccentric, that one," Lana said.

Blake had left nothing but a breeze of candied apple air and a gust of wind in her hurry outside. Lana shook her head with a smirk, stretching her arms out as if weary from what I assumed was a day doing nothing whatsoever. Her red hair glinted cherry in the sunlight refractions from the glass windows. It blinded me for a moment as I hissed inaudibly and squinted away from her.

Lana's lips were hard-pressed and tight, a calculating brow arched as she watched me. "So," she prodded, "why are you being bitter about V-Day?"

"Honestly?" I asked, giving her a 'stink-eye'. "Fred..."

Lana groaned and shook her head in dismay. It was getting to be a habit of hers every time the whole 'Fred' topic came up. Lana took a steep breath in through her pointed nose, face hot with prickling annoyance.

"Look, Elizabeth - you know what I've already told you - and I'll tell you again - just ask the damned boy out. He's clearly oblivious about the whole 'asking' business, so you need to wear the pants and get it out there - if you don't you'll be in this miserable state forever. Yelling at people who want love advise. Then you'll grow up an old maid with twelve cats, while Fred forgets about you and marries Angelina."

"Hey!" I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm not my sister - I don't even like cats."

Lana tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear and laughed cooly at me, kaleidoscope eyes twinkling as if I'd said the silliest thing. "You do not." Lana scuffed up my hair. "You adore cats, you love dogs and the only bird you tolerate is Ami. But, even Ami is a dickhead sometimes." I agreed silently, shrugging at the thought of my owl who was probably causing a stir in the Owlery right this very moment.

Lana continued on, not needing anything from me. "I also know that you're kinda crazy about this guy. I know you. We've been besties since our 2nd year*." She yawned and got off my bed and walked over to hers, slowly changing into her comfortable clothes for sleeping. "Tomorrow is the 13th, that gives you a day to think of something. Just ask out the Weasel."

"Flughuhferr!" I word-vomited in frustration and threw myself into bed, just wanting to curl up and die. Tomorrow was Friday the 13th, and even though love was on everyone's minds, I could only think of all the ways that the day would try to screw me over.

✧

You ever have those days where you close your eyes for two seconds and suddenly, it's morning? Yeah, well it was one of those. Tired and frustrated, I found that a night's rest hadn't helped me the slightest when it came to my confidence about my feelings towards Fred.

Putting minimal effort into my day, I yawned and made my way down the Gryffindor staircase. The Common Room was silent, sparing the few students who'd chosen to stay up studying. Of the bunch, Fred and Lee were sitting on the couch doing some last-minute homework.

The clomping sound of my feet alerted them, and as Fred turned to me, his face dissolved from frustration to a small smile.

"Oi! You're up early for a Friday, Elle." Fred docked his quill in the ink bottle on the oak table in front of the pair and he squared his shoulders with a stiff groan. Soft pops crackled in response and he rubbed at the back of his neck. The puffy bags under the pair's eyes told me that they'd been at it for a while, perhaps even all night if I knew them half as well as I'd thought I did.

"You want to get some breakfast with Lee and me?" Fred grinned up at me, making my heart soften a little bit and causing me to blush, but there it was -- a tiny mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, why not - I could do with some coffee." I yawned and trudged down the stairs gracefully, raising a curious brow as Fred extended his arm for me to take. "What are you on?"

"What?" Fred casually chided, rolling his parchment paper closed as Lee Jordan yawned and stifled a soft good morning. "I can't be delightful on a nice, Friday morning? The day before Valentine's?" His eyes still sparked with fire, telling me he was definitely up to something. But as I wrapped my arm around his extended arm, I frankly couldn't care.

"Given that you are never really up to anything good," I eyed him from the corner of my gaze, nose held high, "you can't expect me to believe you, right?" I laughed and shook my head.

Stepping through the Fat Lady's portrait hole, Fred, Lee and I caught up with Harry. He looked as if he'd also been up all night, pacing the halls and contemplating something stressful by the skewed strands of hair on his head.

Fred and I greeted him and asked him to join us for breakfast.

Harry, though absent-minded and tired, agreed.

Harry remained quiet as we walked through the halls, silently brooding behind Fred and me. It was an uncomfortable kinda quiet, one that even Lee Jordan furrowed a joking brow towards as he nudged Fred and struck up a conversation about next year's return to Quidditch.

Biting my lip, I turned my head towards Harry with a crooked smile. Uncomfortable silences called for random questions, in my experience. "So Harry," I asked, rounding the corner towards the Great Hall doors, "who's your Valentine this year? Have you decided on the lovely dame yet?"

"Uh- well... There is a girl, but she likes someone else..." Harry's face darkened in an embarrassed blush. I frowned the corners of my mouth and shook my head, then had an idea.

"Hey! I've got it, why don't you ask Ginny?" I giggled, then felt Fred stiffen under my arm a little, causing my stomach to drop, had I just given Fred a reason to kill Harry? "I-I mean, you - you could ask Ginny if you can't think of any one... she's very lovely - it's not like a marriage or anything."

The Great Hall doors welcomed our little group to the morning smell of eggs and toast. Many students were already eating and chattering away animatedly. I couldn't wait to get my hands on some hot coffee; even the thought of it made my brain jolt with excitement.

Harry cocked his head to the side in contemplation of my suggestion and he shrugged. "Hm... I don't think Ginny'd say yes." Harry pushed at the rim of his spectacles and added, "She likes Thomas right now; besides... I wouldn't want to lead her on or anything," he admitted with a shake of his head.

I tried not to make a face, or roll my eyes. Parting my lips to interject at his pig-headedness, Fred interrupted us.

Fred released my arm and turned to me with a curious smirk. "Hey - I'll get you a cup of coffee, why don't you go on and give Harry more love advise." He chuckled and walked off, much to my burning curiosity about what he was on about - there was definitely something up his sleeve.

I eyed Fred's retreating back as he and Lee skipped towards the Gryffindor table, muttering wickedly to each other. Squinting with unease, I turned back to Harry as a questionable churn rolled through my stomach.

The sounds of clattering dishes and the scraping of forks and knives chimed off the stone hall walls as the students enjoyed their time before classes. Gaggles of girls sat closely together, cheeks flushed as they whispered amongst themselves; I was sure it was due to the quickly approaching holiday.

"Uh-hm...," I cleared my throat, "is it just me or is Fred being really weird..." I asked Harry. The Boy Who Lived simply shook his head with a confident smile, a smile which quickly turned to a frightened, nervous smile. The sound of soft footsteps sounded to the right of me and I watched as Cho walked past with a friend, waving and saying hello to Harry as she passed. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and grabbed Harry's sleeve, pulling him towards the Gryffindor table.

"Elle, let me go," Harry complained, tearing his arm from my grasp as we got closer. "I can take a hint," he sighed.

"Can you, Chosen One?" I quipped, earning a snort and giggle from my twin as she browsed the Daily Prophet, only half paying attention.

Jenna beamed as we approached, sipping gingerly at a cup of tea. "Good morning, Elle. Did you have a nice sleep?" Her golden hair was braided and curled in intricate waves. Her soft pink cheeks were dewy and fresh, and her wide eyes were framed carefully, giving her an alluring look. I offered her a glare, knowing what she was up to. And, as I looked over towards Lana, she nodded in agreement.

"I see you are up to your old tricks again, Jennifer."

"Oh great, you're mad." She rolled her eyes. "For the last time, my name is not, nor has it ever been Jennifer. It's Jenna. And, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turned her brightly lit eyes towards the Hufflepuff table and sent a flirty smirk. Fred's pale, freckled hand pushed my cup of coffee to me while I shook my head at my friend's ridiculousness.

Lana scoffed and face-palmed herself in pity. "Jenna, you do this every year, and don't pretend as if you don't know what we are talking about!"

Jenna's bottom lip popped put as she pouted a little. "B-But, I love sweets! What's so wrong with dressing all pretty before Valentine's and assuring that I will get delicious chocolates?"

I laughed, it bubbled up from the pit of my stomach and cramped my sides. Lana chuckled and shrugged, offering Jenna a deserved high-five. Rubbing at my eyes, I softly sighed and grabbed the steaming cup before me, watching Fred in the corner of my eyes.

As I raised the goblet to my lips, his face broke out in anticipation. Quickly, I slammed the cup down in fury. "I knew it! Frederick Weasley, you're trying to prank me! You can't think I'm that gullible."

"Never would have crossed my mind, actually," Fred disagreed, feigning hurt. He cradled his chest as if my words were daggers. Lee nodded his head, his dreads bouncing back and forth as his head bobbed, and mentioned Fred as being 'the most honest bloke he knew'. I snorted at both Fred's expression and Lee's statement and grabbed the cup of coffee next to Fred's plate. "Thank you, but I'll take this one."

Hermione sighed and folded the paper over her plate, watching the scene dismally. Fred leaned back with a small smile playing about his lips as I defiantly stuck my tongue out at him, taking a big gulp of coffee.

Or at least, that's what I'd thought it was.

In utter disgust, my tongue registered that the substance in my mouth was not coffee, but something completely foreign. In a hurry, I spat it out of my mouth and all over the unsuspecting Lavender Brown who was sitting two seats across from me. I have a great range, apparently.

Heads in the Great Hall turned towards the commotion, and Lavender squealed in disgust, jumping up from her seat.

A chorus of laughter rang out from next to me as George and Fred fist-bumped each other, quite proud. Fred planted a kiss on my cheek hastily and pulled a bottle of soy sauce out of his robe pocket. "Of course, I don't think you are that gullible, Letter. That's why I knew you always take my things." I watched him, whilst rubbing the taste of bitter sauce off my tongue. "And, if I acted suspicious you would take the coffee in front of my plate. Which is why, I am the Master of Pranks."

Jenna giggled and watched Lavender as she got up and stormed off back to the Common Room to change, talking about how I had no civil manners. "Well, I can't think of a better person you could have aimed that at, Elle."

I stole the goblet of Pumpkin Juice from in front of Jenna, which she offered freely, gulping it down to combat the salty brine that coated my tongue. I finished the goblet and cringed, glaring at Fred as he snickered and joked. "I hate you," I told him.

"You love me."

Despite the sour taste in my mouth, I forced a grin and jokingly replied, "You wish."

"There you are," Angelina Johnson interjected, a stern down curve to her lips as she trudged through the Great Hall doors. "Were you gonna keep me waiting all morning?"

Fred's smile fell as his eyes searched nothing in particular as if racking his mind for something he'd forgotten. Once it occurred to him, it almost lit up his entire face like a proverbial lightbulb. "Oh, shit, what time is it?"

Angelina laughed and shook her head. It was at that moment that I noticed the Quaffle under her arm. "Ding ding ding," she said, "now you're with me." She grabbed his hand and ushered him out of his seat. Angelina turned to the rest of the Gryffindor table as Harry said good morning.

"Morning, Potter! Getting any hints for the next challenge?"

Harry shook his head. "Studying with Moody though," he admitted. "What are you two up to?"

"Just a little study date," Angelina teased, elbowing Fred as he rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Not all of us can be the Youngest Seeker in a millennium, can we?"

Lee Jordan nodded in agreement, gnawing off a bite of buttered toast before he chimed in. "You know what we professionals say, Harry. Stay ready, and you won't have to be ready."

Ron choked on a laugh and shook his head. "Oi, you're the bloody announcer, Jordan."

"Says you, bench boy!"

"Boys," Angelina interposed with a smile, "boys, shut up." She eyed Fred's empty plate and tossed the Quaffle in the air, up and down, up and down, catching it with a wink. "Are you ready?"

"Born ready,"

"Born ready -" Fred and I said at the same time. I smirked, pleasantly surprised that I'd been right. But, come on, it was as predictable as him pranking me.

George laughed, telling me 'Good one', while Angelina turned to me for the first time this morning. Her eyes were guarded, not giving much away, but she offered me a tight smile and a simple 'Good morning, Elizabeth'.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and I watched Fred and Angelina walk away, chattering together. I hated that my stomach churned anxiously. I could hear Fred as he described what Angelina had missed: 'You missed it, Angie! It was brilliant.'

Angelina turned to look behind her shoulder at me. I quickly tore my eyes away, feeling a wave of shyness, as if looking was embarrassing. Angie broke into loud laughter, nudging him with her elbow and shaking her head.

"You can't mess with 4th years like that, Fred -- she might get the wrong idea," she spoke loudly.

Fred laughed as they walked through the doors, starting to speak as they closed tightly behind them. Of what, I wasn't sure.

The colour in my cheeks was hot, and I could feel the watchful eyes of Lana on me as I turned to serve myself some oatmeal for breakfast. After a moment, I forced myself to meet her gaze. It only was a look, but she was clear: tell him how you feel.

~~~~~~11 p.m. on Friday:

'One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.

Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons, where they were often beaten and tortured. According to one legend, an imprisoned Valentine actually sent the first "valentine" greeting himself after he fell in love with a young girl--possibly his jailor's daughter--who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter signed "From your Valentine," an expression that is still in use today.'

'Huh... I'd never known that..,'

I sighed as I re-read it over on the thick book's pages and roughly shut the cover. I'd been sitting here... Just sitting on the couch thinking while a red, blank, Valentine's Card stared up at me from the table it laid on.

I picked up my pen and began once again, but only made a black splotch mark and lifted the pen once more, nothing wanted to come out.

'Fred...' I started, thinking practically. Fred.... Fredd.... Uh - "Shit this isn't going to work." I threw my pen down and laid back on the couch, fed up with my brain blockage - me and writing - we didn't mix. Sure, I could read - but trying to express my own feelings out on paper was one of the hardest things in the world.

Furiously, I picked the pen back up and started scribbling down words before I could over think it. Trying just to get everything out and then revise later. It sounded something like this:

"Fred... Happy Valentine's Day. Did you know that Valentine's is pretty much a time celebrated for a death of a priest? Kind of morbid huh? Well... any way, Happy Valentine's Day - Be mine - Be my Valentine?"

I re-read it and growled in disgust, I sounded like an idiot. Helplessly, I crumbled that paper up and threw it into the waste-basket - I literally had a fairly large pile of crumpled letters in there already. "Okay - try again..."

Paper after paper, crumpled toss after angry toss, finally the clock struck 3 am and I had it. The letter I'd worked so hard on, it wasn't very good but I was fed up, it's not as if I was going to give him a card and run off like a scared little girl - I was going to be mature and tell him flat out.

______________

I wish I could say it took me this long to edit this chapter because I got in a terrible car accident, or perhaps came down with a deadly toothache and couldn't see straight for 175 hours, or even because my job had kept me away (which is usually true most days).

But, the truth of the matter is, friends... we are coming to the HARDEST part of the novel for me, as a person and a writer who is better off now than I was all those days ago when I first wrote this. It is TOUGH to edit this because it's TOUGH for me to even read it without being compelled to click away in downright cringe.

I am not joking. I edit a piece, I read the next few paragraphs, rub my temples and slam my laptop shut. Good Godric, have mercy on my pubescent soul.

There was a scene in here about a bra... in the middle of the Great Hall. I would have DIED.

I am pressing on, trying to untangle the mess I wrote at the age of twelve, but also aware that... there's not much that can be done when your plot point teetered on the thread of what people wanted. And, the tweens wanted DRAMA. So, drama they got... and drama you too shall have.

Cheers. XX

* The school I'd planned out has different levels - like a cake. Sorcellerie takes young kids at the age of 5 and teaches them until they are ten [like pre-school]; then they move up to 'First Year' at the age of eleven. Lana is referring to when they were 8 years old.

I put all the original songs (those I could find) that inspired my writing during this book into a Spotify playlist!

Now, you too can enjoy it. Simply screenshot and upload into Spotify if you'd like !