Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

24. The undoing of Christmas 1996

"Right, I'm bloody sick of this," Bill suddenly announced, dropping his knife and fork onto his plate with a forceful clatter, and a high-pitched echo screamed through the room as his chair scraped along the floor before falling backwards as he stood up.

If the room had not already been abysmally silent for the best part of three days, now would have been the best opportunity for the room to drain itself of all sound, the mere action of a pin hitting the hardwood floors would have rung as loud as a thunderstorm, yet such sound had already run dry, as we all sat their, eyes wide and dreadfully silent.

"I have no idea what has happened between you lot, but I want it sorted. Now!" Willam stated sternly, running his hands through his fiery locks before dragging them down his face.

The room remained silent, no one dared speak. Ginny was averting her eyes from Harry, whilst Harry did everything in his will power to accomplish the same. Ron and Hermione eyed each other suspiciously from opposite ends of the table, although still neither said a word, and when Ron turned slightly and caught a glimpse of Harry, both boys cheeks burnt rosey and dark, concealing Ron's freckles and masking Harry's scar, except whilst Harry's blush appeared to be out of embarrassment, Ron seemed to be enraged at the sight of his best friend.

George aimlessly twiddled his thumbs and Tonks did the same, refusing the lift either of their heads from their hands. And Fred and I too did not disrupt the uncomfortable silence, both pushing the food around our plates purposely.

A complex and extended series of unfortunate events had led us there, to a point of intolerable silence and unsettling company, everyone far too intimidated by the prospect of unpacking the days prior to say a word, all of us attempting to salvage our own sanity above all.

After the conversations I'd had with Hermione and Harry, everything sort of unravelled from there, the lies began piling sky high, sudden strings of harbored secrets pouring out from all directions, not enough tape in the world to contain or piece together the spilling words, broken information scattering itself around the group, driving us all to a point of either anger, frustration or immense confusion.

I awoke the first morning of Christmas break nuzzled breathlessly between Fred and George, the room filling with the gentle winter sun's rays casting a bitter warmth across the floor boards, and the sounds of steady breath as the twins slept soundly beside me.

The glazed windows trapped in the subtle amber, illuminating an otherwise lightless room with gentle heat, and as my eyes fixated on the honey like sun spilling in through the panes, a sudden flutter of wings flapped from just below, before a gentle tap sounded on the window.

A large owl had perched itself on the window ledge, its mousey brown feathers were neat and clean as though they had been frequently groomed, although the white feathers around its large eyes only gave it a sense of unrefined innocence. The bird's eyes were captivating, vividly orange as though they had absorbed the sunset from the night before, and it held an envelope tight within its beak.

"Thank you" I whispered, reaching out the crack in the open window to retrieve the envelope, before running my fingers along the soft front of the owls stomach and waiting before it flew away.

I made my way over to the armchair in the corner of the room, neglecting the idea of climbing back between the twins, knowing my shifts would wake them.

I glanced down at the back of the envelope, the penmanship overly neat and pleasing, each letter of my name effortlessly rolling to the next in a royal blue ink that I noticed perfectly matched the royal blue wax seal as I broke open the letter.

~~~~~

Ardelle,

I am so shit at this stuff.