𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚡𝚡𝚟𝚒𝚒. 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜

✦✧✦

March fades into April. Slowly, the leaves turn a vibrant emerald, the grass healthy and inviting like you could just roll around in it for hours. Birds chirp every morning and owls hoot every night. Days last longer and nights are shorter, the golden sun outshining the silver moon. Every day is breezy, cool and calm, a serenity that Cress loves.

Professors, however, are crucial. Spring is here and it's beautiful, but the O.W.L.s are knocking down Cress's doors, relentless and cruel. They are the monsters that parents tell their children about and they are under Cress's bed, moaning and groaning, coming at her with their long limbs and blazing aura.

She hates it. She truly does. O.W.L.s are probably the worst obstacle she's experienced. It's been two weeks — two blasted weeks — and she's crammed more knowledge in her brain in that amount of time than she has in her five years at Hogwarts. She does not know if she's going to be able to get through it, really.

And not only that, Cress still has yet to know what the third task is. She has paced in her dormitory so many times that imprints of her feet are starting to show on the worn wood. No matter how many nights she stays up, restless, eyes tired but mind awake, thinking about what the judges could throw at the contenders next, Cress cannot get a grip on what's to come. It's a future she can't see, and she does not like that.

She hopes it's nothing too horrendous. Though, given that this is Hogwarts, Cress is certain that it's going to be the most horrendous thing anyone could ever experience in their lifetime.

Cress shakes her head. Closes her eyes. Wills the thoughts to disappear.

(They don't. They never do. They're always there, an echo in her mind, whispering, taunting. Cress is miserable.)

"Ah, having a boyfriend is just wonderful," Cress singsongs in a means to distract herself from the darkening thoughts piercing her brain.

But it isn't like it's not true. Cress is convinced that getting a boyfriend — snagging Fred Weasley at that — is the best thing to happen. It's like — he's her boyfriend, but not. Cress still considers him one of her best friends except it comes with the benefits of snoggingnow. Bloody snogging. Cress loves it.

Being with Fred Weasley is simply the easiest thing that Cress has ever done. It comes naturally to her. Her hand fits between his awkwardly but it's okay because he kisses hers to let her know he doesn't mind. His shoulder is comforting when they're down in the kitchens late into the night, his voice soft as he reads textbooks to her. His eyes are soft when he stares at her, supporting her through her fits about the exams, the tournament — everything. His face is adorable when it's painted a soft pink — the color of a rose on a spring day — due to Cress's sudden compliments.

He's the best thing that's happened to her, she thinks. And she fancies him so much.

So, yeah, she's going to brag about him. Like, who wouldn't? If you have someone as spectacular as Fred Weasley for your boyfriend, you speak about them every chance you get. Granted, she could have probably waited until later, when she isn't drowning in homework, textbooks as heavy as giant cat scattered around her in the library, but Herbology was growing tiresome and the words were swirling together so she decided to give it a rest.