Are You Joking?

♡︎ CHAPTER FIVE ♡︎

♪ Darling, it's okay to be scared
                                               It's frightening ♪
~ James TW
"Soldier"

Fred

Vanessa bursts into the common room making sounds similar to that of a wounded dog. She collapses onto the large couch by the fireplace, screaming her lungs out into a pillow. My heart sinks into my stomach. Her muffled cries are incessant and are interrupted only when she needs to breathe in.

I am the only person besides her left in the common room. It's no wonder she didn't catch sight of me huddled in this dark corner, where the light of the flickering firelight doesn't quite reach.

I get out of the armchair, wobbling as I tiptoe over to and then up the spiralling staircase to the boy's dormitories. I stop on the fifth level, knocking softly on the door to Harry and Ron's dorm. I'm not worried about waking them, they disappeared upstairs only two minutes before Vanessa's arrival.

It's only a few moments before I hear the turn of the handle, and Harry's tired face appears in doorway.
"Oh! Hey, what's up?" I hear the soft padding of Ron's feet as he walks over to Harry, peering around the to identify the visitor.
"What do you want?" My brother snorts.
"Hey Ronnie," I wave in his face, "I'm actually not interested in talking to you." I say, grinning mockingly at him. Ron rolls his eyes, disappearing back behind the door and into the dorm.

"I need your cloak," I say, looking Harry dead in the eye.
"Are you joking?" He almost laughs.
"I never joke about serious stuff," I say, forcing myself to keep a straight face.
"You always joke about serious stuff."
"Okay but like, this is very, extremely, super serious," I argue, growing agitated.
"Have it back by morning, no questions asked," he gives in, sighing.
"I'll be back in ten," I grin.

Harry disappears into the dorm for a moment, and when he reappears he's holding a shiny, silky cloak.
"How do you even know I have this?" he hisses, handing me the garment.
"I know everything, Harry," I whisper mischievously.
"You have to keep it under lock and key, yeah?" Harry's tone is serious.
"Of course, buddy. Lips are sealed." I grin and thank Harry before draping the thin cloak over my whole body.

I tiptoe back downs the stairs, Vanessa's ongoing, muffled screams meeting my ears as I near the common room.

  Protected by invisibility, I make my way down towards the kitchens.

  Hogwarts does not seem half as inviting cloaked by night than it does when its halls are flooded with daylight, when conversation and laughter echo off every wall. At night the deserted, stone halls are cold and joyless, darkness creeping behind every corner.

  "Lumos," I whisper, holding my wand out to illuminate the hallway.

  I reach the humongous painting of the fruit bowl, and tickle the pear. I watch as it giggles before transforming into a doorknob, which I grasp and turn, entering the kitchen.

  Only few house elves remain awake and working, wiping down benches or washing dishes- using magic, of course.

I ask one of them to bring me some hot chocolate, and he returns minutes later with a mug and a thermos of the creamy chocolate drink.

I thank the elf and speed walk back to Gryffindor tower, climbing through the portrait hole and into the common room.

The room is warm and inviting, the fire flickering merrily and sending shadows over the walls. It would be a very pleasant place to be if not for the wailing girl, slumped over the couch in the middle of the room.

I try to announce my presence in a way that won't be creepy or scare here, except with her head buried in a caution, she still hasn't realised I'm standing over her.

I sit down on the couch next to her, but she gets a fright and springs up to her feet. Her face pulls into a puzzled look as she studies my face, most likely trying to decipher whether she is looking at me or my twin brother. I answer before she has the chance to ask.
"Stars with 'F'. Ends with 'red'," I say, trying my best at a calming voice.

I turn around, flicking on a small lamp next to the couch.
"I'm not going to ask you if you're okay, because clearly you're not. Instead I'm going to ask you if you would like a cup of hot chocolate," I ask her, holding out the thermos of hot chocolate. I don't wait for her answer, and pour her a mug of the steaming, thick, chocolate liquid. She wraps her hand around the Gryffindor mug and takes a small sip.

  She clearly needs to rid her mind of whatever is disturbing her, and so, instead of asking what happened, I sink down on the couch next to her and wrap her free hand in both of mine.

I rack my brain, hoping something will come to me. Anything random I can ramble on about to get her thinking about something else. Anything else.

I settle on talking to her about Snape. I tell her about how in potions today, after my Polyjuice potion came out bright pink instead of black and turned him into Professor Umbridge, he forced me to take a double dose of the potion. I tell her how I had to walk around for three hours looking like Umbridge.

I tell her about how Katie Bell rejected George again. About how he made a complete fool of himself in front of her by tap dancing on a charms classroom table. I tell her he had charmed her frog to tap dance along with him.

I tell her about how Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, woke me up every morning over summer by sitting outside my window and loudly chirping 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' by Elton John.

We sit there for hours while I talk. She doesn't say much, though she'll smile at my jokes. She tries her best to laugh along, however it sounds more like a dog barking because she's almost lost her voice from screaming so hard.

She eventually dozes off, but I feel the need to stay by her, just in case she wakes. I don't want to disturb her, and so instead of curling up next to her on the couch I relocate to a nearby armchair.

I sit for the next few hours, watching over her while she rests until I hear birds chirping outside the window and see the sun peeking over the great lake, spreading its rays over the earth, announcing the start of a new day.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N

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