Sylvia had a stuffy nose that wouldn't go away, the kind that pressed on her sinuses and made her whole head feel like it was filled with mucus. She'd already spent nearly half an hour in the shower, letting the hot water beat against her face, and was currently pressing a hot towel to her sinuses when Molly suggested she stay with her and Ginny.
"I want to help if I can." She protested, voice nasally and deep.
"They've plenty of help already," Molly held her shoulders, giving them a small squeeze, "You can help by getting some rest."
Sylvie gave a small nod, sniffing and clearing her throat. Molly smiled at her with the softest upturn of her lips, eyes clear and kind. She wondered if this was how normal mothers smiled at their daughters. George passed behind Sylvie then, giving a small tug on her ponytail, enough to pull her head back.
"George!" Molly erupted, swiping a hand at her son as he scurried away, massive grin and all.
With another sniff, Sylvia smiled slightly as Molly chased George into the kitchen. She felt a wave of nerves rush to her stomach and press on her chest in a mix of melancholia and apprehension. She coughed and swallowed against her sore throat, shuffling off to the stairs. She was still in her pajamas, and the sun was beginning to set.
Fred was flying down the stairs like he was running late, and nearly collided with her on the first landing. He stopped a step past her, turning to speak to her.
"Feeling any better?"
Sylvia shook her head, placing her hand on the wooden rail as she breathed through a slightly open mouth. She squeezed the now cold rag in her other hand, letting it drip onto her bare foot.
"Your mum thinks I should stay."
Fred nodded, liking his lips, "I think that's a good idea."
"I want to come."
"I know," He said, stepping towards her and slipping his warm hand over hers, "It'll be okay."
He dipped his head down a little to look her in the eye, the corner of his mouth perking up and his eyes all big and earnest. "Hmm?" He cooed. She sniffed.
"I don't like this, Fred." She whispered, surprised by the small tremble in her voice.
"What do you mean?" He asked, thumb running back and forth over her knuckles.
Sylvia chewed on her lips, shaking her head, "It feels too risky."
"It's gonna be risky no matter what."
"I know," She swallowed, quickening and lowering her voice, "I know. I just. Christ, someone's going to get killed."
"Don't say that."
"Why don't you all get hair from some random muggles and look like that for an hour instead? If you all look like Harry, they might as well kill you all."
"Stop it," He squeezed her hand, "You can't just sit here and worry."
"What else am I supposed to do?"
He swallowed and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, "I don't know, Syl. I don't want this to sound as dickish as it's going to, but you didn't have to come here. You could've gone back to Oxford or stayed in the U.S. and kept away from this stuff."
She wanted to tell him off, but she just looked back at him with tired and sad eyes, letting her body fall forward and her arms wrap around his shoulders. It was less like she was embracing him than trying to hold him there, to keep him from going by squeezing him down into something she could keep in her pocket.
CITEȘTI
Bad Decisions | Fred Weasley
Fanfiction"We were together. I forget the rest." Fred didn't like her. In fact, he had decided, first year, that he despised her. Despised is a strong word and he meant every bit of it when he told her to her face. ••• An inspired playlist: https://youtube.co...
