1: Trouble - Fred Weasley

10. dreams

now here you go again, you say you want your freedom

well who am i to keep you down?

it's only right that you should play the way you feel it

but listen carefully to the sound 

of your loneliness

-

The deadline for her St Mungo's application only seemed to be creeping nearer and nearer, and yet Imogen still wasn't happy with what she had. She'd written at least five essays now and each one she'd discarded, needing something better. The one she'd started two days ago, however, was looking promising; it was equal parts insightful and humble, just as personal as it was universal. Imogen was sure if she could just concentrate on editing it, she'd be ready to send it off tomorrow morning, but her head seemed to be all over the place and it just wasn't working.

As she tried desperately to focus her eyes on the parchment, a noisy entrance drew her attention. Adrian Pucey had stormed into the Slytherin common room, and by the sounds of it, wanted everyone to know.

"Fucking McGonagall!" he said loudly, as he sat down on the other side of the room with his friends. They all clamoured to know what had happened.

"Got detention, haven't I?" he told them gruffly. "The Weasel twins attacked me, and now I have detention, because bloody McGonagall said so."

Imogen huffed quietly. Did he really need to be so loud? Over a detention? She wanted to go and tell him to shut up.

"All I did was say something about the she-weasel and they heard. They told me to shut up, so I said I spoke about whoever I wanted, and that I didn't take orders from filthy blood traitors like them." Adrian's friends murmured agreements.

"Next thing, we're duelling. Two on one of course, because those two couldn't handle me on their own."

If Imogen wasn't so irritated her work had been interrupted, she might have laughed at that.

"And of course it's McGonagall who comes across us."

"Did she only give you detention?" Ben, who was sitting near him and listening to every word, asked.

Adrian faltered. "Well, no. They got detention too. But they attacked me, and I get detention for defending myself."

Imogen heard murmurs erupt amongst the listeners, and she was sure she heard Blaise Zabini call them a pair of pricks, which to be fair, Imogen might have said herself what with the way she was feeling towards Fred currently. Still, she could only imagine what Adrian had said about Ginny. He'd probably deserved it.

"We'll get them back, don't worry," one of his friends muttered.

"Revenge is sweet," another said, and the group began to titter with laughter and schemes.

The noise was quite annoying, and sitting listening to them plot revenge against Fred Weasley really wasn't doing her any good. Imogen stood, gathering up her books, when that thought seemed to snag in her brain. She stopped in her tracks, looking at Adrian, and then slowly lowered her books back to the coffee table. Spurred on by the sudden inception of her own scheme, she strode towards him purposefully.

The titter died as they noticed her. "Adrian, could I talk to you?"

Adrian's mouth hung open slightly, and he glanced at Ben before clearing his throat.

"Yeah, of course."

He stood up and followed her back to her seat, all his bluster gone.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Imogen felt on fire. She leant back and tilted her head at him. "I just feel like I haven't spoken to you for a while. Wanted a catch up."

He smiled. "Well, that's nice. You're looking pretty, as always."

She made herself smile. "Thank you."

Imogen copied a move she'd seen Mo do a thousand times, and wrapped a strand of hair around her index finger. Adrian's eyes followed the movement.

"Are you excited for the Yule Ball?" she asked.

Adrian raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn't thought about it at all. "Yeah, it'll be good."

Merlin, was he stupid or did he just not fancy her anymore? It appeared Imogen would have to be a little more direct.

"Do you know who you're going with yet?" she asked.

Something shifted in his eyes. "No, no. I haven't asked anyone yet. What about - are you... going with anyone?"

A smile came to her, born only of her satisfaction in her plan. "No."

She smiled expectantly, and his eyes lit up.

"Well, we could... we could go together, if you'd like?"

She feigned surprise. This was too easy. "Why not. I'd like that."

Adrian beamed. "Great... amazing. Cool, well, we'll go together then!"

He seemed to think he'd been too enthusiastic, and deepened his voice. "Or whatever, you know?"

Imogen stood; she was finished here. "Cool," she gathered up her belongings again. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah," he said, seemingly dazed. "See you then."

She let her smile drop slightly when she left the common room. As useful as Adrian may have turned out to be, she still did not want to hear him preach to the masses. The library was deserted when she found it, and she felt almost invigorated with her new plans for the Yule Ball. She would not be turning up sad and lonely, sniffling into her dinner plate, but instead she'd be looking gorgeous and with someone that Fred Weasley could not stand.

Her quill was non-stop, her mind tranquil, and it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to shape up her essay. Her eyes, now a little more at ease, were not so critical on her writing and she could appreciate that actually, it was a stellar application already. She could not have been there longer than an hour when she realised, with a twinkling levity, that it was time to send it. She etched the address onto the envelope, and folded it closed with steady hands.

Her hands were not so steady in the owlery, when she was fastening it to the tawny's leg. She fiddled with it longer than she needed to, and the owl nipped at her finger.

"Okay, okay," she said to him, "time to go."

With a final shuddery breath, she lowered her hands, and the owl spread his wings to take flight. She watched him disappear between the stars, and when she could no longer see him, she leant against the wall, fiddling with her new ring. She twisted it around and around her finger, not yet used to it's presence there, until she tired of the smell of owl shit, and bid the stars goodnight.