The War left many grieving, those who would never get the chance to tell their loved ones that they loved them one last time. Iris Brown was one of them, her twin sister ripped away from her at just 18, she never got the chance to do the things with...
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It had once again been a couple days since Iris had even caught sight of the ever familiar head of brilliant red that was identifiable as George Weasley. And she was starting to notice a pattern. Sure she could not say much since she was starting a pattern of her own behaviour, of which usually resulted in her slamming down more than enough money for the pair of them and then storming in the opposite direction of said red haired man who had taken a capture of more of her heart than she thought possible in such a short time. But he too had a pattern of which made Iris feel like he was running away from her.
Every time they would have such an argument or disagreement, which would usually involve both of their dearly beloved siblings, she would not hear from him for days. Three days was the minimum it would appear as it slowly creeped into five days since she had last seen the tall man. The old saying was that distance made the heart fonder. But for Iris it would seem that this little avoidance would just make her angrier and angrier.
She had spent hours upon hours going back over that night, trying to see what she had done wrong. Sure she was at fault for continuing a conversation where he seemed uncomfortable with the topic. But this only made her more angry. For the topic was only her own sister, and Iris was only trying to work on the steps she had been told, bringing up her sister in a positive light. Not focusing on the past but the future, remembering her as she would have wanted and not in those last few moments. The moments that forever plagued Iris' memory and would be the reason she was terrified of Werewolves for the rest of her life. Iris had purposely never mentioned George's lost twin, she would not step over that boundary as she expected him not to do the same for her.
But here she was five days later replaying that situation over and over again, and coming to the conclusion. That if she wanted things to work out between the two of them, even if she disguised it as not wanting to be sent to prison rather than the fact that despite their arguing that she was developing feelings for him, she would never be able to mentioned Lavender around him. Not for the fear of setting him off and causing a rather unnecessary argument or fight. She had witnessed the temper that ran through the Weasley family and never wanted to see what George could do.
This was the time she wished more than anything that the stupid war had never gone ahead. That the last 18 months had been nothing but a horrible mixed up dream brought on by a dodgy potion she had brewed as she was failing the subject. But she knew better than to wish this was all a dream, she knew better than to wish that things were different. Because she was slowly learning to understand what happened, and perhaps make paths of which she could move forwards. But it would seem that George Weasley might just be the reason she could never truly move on. Not if her freedom was on the line.
Iris knew that there was no point bottling these feelings up anymore. She knew it was not healthy and recognised that she needed to speak to someone. And despite just how weak it made her feel admitting it to herself she knew that in this moment of time she needed someone. And the only person she could even think of going to was her best friend of 8 years. In that moment in time Iris needed Padma.
