⫶⫶⫶ ᴇ ᴅ ᴇ ʟ y ɴ ⫶⫶⫶
― Edelyn Aurélia Black learned
from a young age that h e r o e s
aren't always the ones who win.
They're the ones who fight. And
so, Edelyn fights, until the green
lying dormant beh...
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FRED YAWNED A GROGGY YAWN as he descended the stairs that night, mouth dry and beseeching him for water, mind much too torpid to be trusted with a simple Accio and Aguamenti. He was just stepping into the kitchen when he heard a soft whimper ripple through the air and felt a light breeze brush against his skin. Rubbing his eyes, his pupils adjusted to the bright moonlight that beamed through the windows and he knitted his brow in perplexity when he noticed the backdoor standing ajar.
Having left his wand on his nightstand, he looked around and searched for a suitable defence. Settling on the frying pan that sat on the counter, he gripped it like a Beater's bat and tiptoed quietly across the kitchen. Cautiously, he kicked the door open and peered outside, the trepidation that came with the wizarding war making his heart pound heavily in his chest. To both his surprise and relief, instead of Death Eaters or danger, he was met with only the sight of Edelyn, who was sitting on the back porch, arms wrapped tightly around her legs and face buried in the valley of her knees.
"Lyn?"
She jerked upright and hastily wiped her eyes before turning her head to face him. "Oh, F-Fred," she muttered. "H...h-hey."
Seeing her upper teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, Fred frowned and lowered the frying pan onto the floor before stepping outside and taking a seat beside her.
Avoiding his gaze, she asked, "What — erm — are you doing up so late?"
"Could ask you the same." He hesitated before resting a hand on the small of her back. "Lyn, what's wrong?"
She gnawed at her bottom lip, metallic tang trickling onto her tongue as her fingers went to tug at the sleeves of her cardigan. "Harry and I...We — erm — had an argument."
"Oh." Fred gave her back a soothing rub; Harry and Lyn didn't argue often, but it seemed that whenever they did, it was wild and dramatic, suitable for a Black and Potter. "You want to talk about it?"
Edelyn shook her head. "Not really." Sniffling, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and turned to look at him. "I rather talk about your choice of a frying pan."
Fred snorted a laugh, that Fred Weasley laugh which was contagious in its lightheartedness and which always made a grin tug at her lips. "Don't underestimate my capabilities, Lynster. Them Death Eaters have nothing against my Beater skills. All I'd have to do is imagine their ugly faces as bludgers."
A weak chuckle reverberated from her chest. "I'd pay twenty galleons to see you whack a Carrow."
Fred grinned mischievously. "No need, lil' Lynster. I'd do it for free." His hand absentmindedly slid across her back to rest on her far shoulder. "I'd also volunteer to give Harry's face a nice old frying pan imprint if you'd like. It might go well with his scar."
A hybrid between a snigger and a choked sob tumbled past her lips. "How charitable of you," she joked.
"Well, you know me." He arched his back and puffed out his chest. "Always doing what's right for the greater good."
