𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚒𝚒𝚒. 𝚝𝚎𝚗-𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛

✦✧✦

     "Blythe, dearest!" Sirius booms happily.

     Cress's eyes fleet between the convict and her mother. The greeting seemed jovial enough, but the doubt sets heavily in Cress's stomach even when Blythe drops her shaking hand to pull the black-haired man into a hug. Sirius Black laughs merrily, and even Professor Lupin seems to be joyful about her mother's appearance. He wraps his long arms around the two. The corridor is small, and Cress feels too big. Her hands wrap around the strap of her bag. She is so tired.

     "Sirius," her mum says. Cress can hear the smile in her tone, wonders so many things, so quickly. "And Remus." At this, Blythe leans up and kisses Professor Lupin on the cheek. "How are you two?"

     "Could be better, Blythe." Lupin sighs. His eyes are dropping, and his hair is askew, as though he just woke up. "Bit tired. Been a couple of stressful days."

     Sirius scoffs. His dark eyes are full of humor, though. "Bit tired, my arse. What are you doing sending out signals in the middle of the night for, Diggory?"

     "Don't be a wanker, Black," Blythe retorts, trying to keep her voice light. Cress can see the tense way she holds herself. She finds that she wants to leave this place, this too small hallway. This too dark house that feels cold even though it's the peak of summer. Everything feels wrong, and her hands are shaking. She focuses on something else, listens to the conversation so the sharp insults from before don't come and pierce her again.

     "When is Sirius not being a wanker?" Professor Lupin asks.

     Blythe laughs, small as it is. Sirius says, "Oi!"

     Cress is witnessing something she has never seen, something that twists at her heart and makes her feel feathery. Sure, she knew that her mother had friends, acquaintances from the hospital, but she has never seen Blythe as natural with someone as she is with these people. With them, it feels like she's watching herself with Axel, someone she can completely be herself around. Someone who she shares an immense amount of respect and admiration for, someone who she can let loose in front of. Her mother must have known them for a long time. Which means—

     "I needed somewhere to take Crescent," Blythe explains lowly, like the words are taboo. "Amos. . . he—it was horrendous. I don't want to go into details right now, but I had to gather Cress and take her away from that environment. I can't—I'm afraid of what I'll do to him if I see him again."

     The could-be murderer and Cress's ex-professor avert their attention to her after Blythe's brief explanation. Cress winces, and it feels like her body is snapped in half with the force of it. She flares her nostrils in an attempt to keep the shameful tears at bay. The soles of her shoes are blurry in her vision.

     "Ah," Sirius says, like he knows. Like he understands her situation and it makes Cress wonder. "Well, you should have started out with that, Blythe." Then, to Cress's astonishment, he regards her with a smile. "Hello, Crescent. Nice to finally meet you."