CHRYSALIS - FRED WEASLEY

CHAPTER 18

Lillie woke first in the Forbidden Forest, gradually and peacefully. Evening was just beginning to descend, the sun low in the sky and no longer filtering through the trees above them. Her heart leapt at her throat when she felt Freds broad chest pressed against her, felt the weight of his warm hand cradling her waist. She squeezed her eyes closed, blushing profusely, soundlessly screaming with delight. Her nerves took hold of her, freezing her where she lay curled with him. As this subsided, she carefully sat up, his arm sliding off her waist and into her lap. He stirred immediately, as if he was on the edge of waking, and blinked at her.

A similar nervous delight rose in him as he remembered how they fell asleep, and he sat up, looking around awkwardly. Neither of them said anything as they gathered their things and walked from the forest. Though, Fred's hand brushed her often, his pinky stretching to meet hers; Lillie thought it was purposeful, though she couldn't be sure. Of course, Fred did do it on purpose.

From then on, a new feeling settled over the both of them, as indiscernible yet distinct as a layer of dust. Though he couldn't quite read her mind, Fred knew she felt it too. Something had shifted in the forest, a piece sliding into place with a sure, satisfying click. 

If Fred's feelings for Lillie were a snowball, the day in the forest was a push down a steep, harrowing slope, gaining speed and momentum as it grew and grew. His heart, however, is anything but chilled; it swells at the thought of her, sending waves of heat to his cheeks. Fred feels a little crazy, if he is being honest. Usually during his shifts, he busies himself with a book or his journal or George's company. Now, he's content to settle into an armchair and think up all sorts of romantic scenarios, imagining how and when they might finally get together. Admittedly, his daydreams verged on dramatic (saving her from a gang of Death Eaters, for example), though he never grew bored of conjuring these situations.

With more free time than they ever had in school, they spend most moments together. They eat either alone or with friends, often joined by George and Lee, Ella, or some combination of the three. With Lillie's need to scan the castle drastically lowered now that she knows where the weakness is, she begins to take shifts with Fred, lounging on the common room couches together for hours. The manifestations of their mutual affection grew in both gravity and frequency. Thighs touching thighs, heads on shoulders, and hands on waists became the norm for the two. Every gesture was timid, unsure, tentative and brooding with tension.

George, of course, noticed everything.

"We haven't had a shift together in a while," George says suggestively as he falls onto the armchair across from the couch where Fred sits, staring into space.

"Yeah, Lillie went to go talk to Dumbledore tonight. He really likes her, I think. I mean, of course he does, everyone does."

"Uh huh," George says, finding Fred's lovestruck routine hilarious. "So are we gonna talk about that, or...?"

"Talk about what?" Fred asks, sounding genuinely confused. George doubts he even realizes how obvious he's being.

"You and Lillie," George says.

"Oh. Right. Well, I dunno," he shrugs.

"It's like seventh year all over again," George laughs, "Except worse, maybe."

"Worse?" Fred exclaims, outraged.

"Yes, worse," he says, "I mean, you guys were young and dumb, so at least you had an excuse for not discussing you feelings for each other. You're adults, Fred."

"And?"

"It's a bit pathetic to watch you prance around her like a schoolgirl."

"'M not prancing," Fred grumbles. George raises his eyebrow. "I just don't know what to do," Fred pauses, "When things started to... escalate, I told myself I would let her come to me, if she has feelings."

"Why, because you're a pussy?" George teases. Fred glares at him. "Sorry," he says, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Because it feels, like, selfish for me to tell her how I feel, after everything that's happened to her." George considers this. "She's really good at hiding it, George, but she's still hurting. It would be unfair of me to bombard her with this, confuse things."

"Noble," George remarks, his sarcastic tone gone.

"I just," Fred rubs his face with his hands, "You know I love her." It's the first time he's spoken those words aloud.

"I do," George says.

"It's just getting frustrating, having to wait. Of course it's fine, I'm happy to do it, but it's torture, you know?" George nods, and they both quiet. "And I'm getting pretty tired of having to go wank every time she--"

George groans and chucks the throw pillow at him, "I don't wanna hear it, you bellend!" Fred laughs, dodging the toss with ease. "Wanna hear my sage advice, then?" Fred nods, "I think that's actually the right call, waiting for her to get on the same page. That doesn't mean you can't... speed that process up a bit. Maybe there's some way you could start the conversation, give her an opening to confess what she's feeling. That's assuming she actually has feelings for you."

"I'm pretty sure she does," Fred says, nodding contemplatively.

"Alright, well, have a think on that. Let me know if I can be of any assistance," he says sarcastically.

"Thanks," Fred mumbles, lost in thought. They both grow quiet again, listening to the crackle of the common room fireplace.

"Erm," George starts, "Since we're, you know, talking. I have... well... erm... something to, uh, confess." Fred looks up. George's gaze is on his lap, where he picks at his fingers nervously. Fred frowns, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Alright, shoot," Fred says.

George takes a deep breath, "You have to promise not to get mad. Or, like, weird about it."

"Okay," he says showly, made nervous by his hesitance.

"I have also, erm... reconnected with a classmate of ours."

Fred grins, "George, you bastard, who is it? If it's Angelina, I won't be mad--"

"No, it's not Angelina."

"Who, then?" Fred can't imagine who else would warrant this buildup.

"It's," George takes a deep breath, "Well, it's a bloke."

Fred doesn't react at first, uncomprehending. As realization sets in, his eyes widen. "It's a man?" he says.

"Yeah," George mumbles. "And wipe that look off your face, you're freaking me out."

"Sorry, I'm just a bit shocked, is all. Erm," he swallows and shrugs, "Alright, sound."

"Right," George mutters.

"No, really, that's fine. Great, really. I'm glad you told me. But I don't know why you thought I'd be angry, you know I don't care about that shit."

George chuckles, "Well, that's not the part I'm nervous about."

"There's more?"

"Yeah," he hesitates, building up courage. "I'm shagging Lee," he blurts.

Fred, yet again, is struck dumb. George and Lee had never even crossed Fred's mind; of course he knows Lee is gay, but Lee and George? It was inconceivable, incomprehensible--and totally obvious. Dots are frantically connecting in Fred's mind as he combs through years of interactions at the speed of light.

"Say something!" George says, panicking.

Fred begins to laugh. It's just a chuckle at first, but soon it descends into hysterics, tears squeezing from his eyes. George laughs hesitantly, unsure of how to gauge this reaction.

"You're not mad?" he asks.

"No!" he wheezes, rubbing his eyes, "God, no! I just feel dumb. I mean," he heaves, catching his breath, "Of course you're shagging Lee, I dunno why I didn't see it earlier."

"Oh," George laughs, "Ok. Sound. Also, it's a little more than shagging. I really like him."

Fred regains his composure, putting on his most supportive face. "Seriously mate, it's fine by me. You two make a good match, I reckon."

"Thanks, Freddie."

"Yeah."