𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚟𝚒. 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍

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Axel gapes at Cress. She tries not to fidget too much under his intense gaze, but so far she's had no luck. When Axel stares at someone with those piercing sapphire eyes, it's hard not to fidget. She frowns, snaps, "Well—say something!"

Her best friend shakes his head as though coming out of a trance. "I wish you'd give me more time to process things, Mo. You can't just spill something like that on someone and expect them to react right away." His lips turn down. Cress can see the tiny Viktor poking out of his school robes. She rolls her eyes.

"I gave you, like, three minutes to take it all in, Ax. That's more than enough time," says Cress.

Axel scoffs. "I beg to differ. You just told me how supposedly You-Know-Who's followers were at the Quidditch Cup, and they shot his signal up in the air like they were signalling for Batman or something! It's unnerving and I deserve time to collect myself."

Cress doesn't even want to know what the hell a 'batman' is. She just sighs out and replies, "Okay, you've collected yourself. Please stop gaping now."

"Not gaping," Axel says. He throws his feet up onto the bench, laying down. Cress crosses her legs and stares at him. "But, I have a question."

"What?" she asks.

"Did Viktor get hurt?"

Dead silence.

Cress stares at Axel like he has grown two heads in the past three seconds. Her eyebrows furrow and she tries not to be too offended that her best friend is more worried about a famous Quidditch player that he doesn't even know than his own best friend. Like, really, she just spilled the beans about how she was trampled into the ground multiple times by over one hundred people (probably) and all he has to say is, Did Viktor get hurt? She takes the copy of Moby Dick that Axel let her borrow and throws it at said arsehole. It smacks him in the face.

"Ow!" He clutches his forehead as the book falls to the floor with a thump. Axel glares at her. "What the hell was that for?!"

Cress narrows her eyes. "You know what that was for, fucking twat," she says. "I could have died and you care about some Quidditch player over me? I'm trying so hard not to be offended right now."

"For the love of—" Axel rolls his eyes. He gives Cress and exasperated look. "Obviously, I'm not fucking worried about you, Mo. You're right in front of me, perfectly fine. Probably sore because your skinny arse got pounded into the ground, but still fine," he tells her. "But Viktor isn't in front of me. He is off in Bulgaria, probably injured and struggling to make it through the day. Also he's not just a Quidditch player, he's my future husband, Crescent Diggory. Husband."

Instead of responding to Axel, Cress pulls out a notebook and flips it open to the first blank page. She takes a ballpoint pen and marks a tally in it. "Oh, don't mind me. I've just decided to document each moment you call Viktor Krum your future husband, is all," she says when Axel sends her a confused glare. "Also, best friends still ask best friends if they're okay, fuckwad. You totally lose points for this."