COUNTDOWN. ❪ Fred Weasley ❫ ✓

eleven

Marisol decided to visit the twins at their shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. She was entranced by the number of rambunctious children, the flying objects, and the assortment of colors.

"Marisol!" Fred called out, striding over.

"Oh - hello, Fred."

She was nervous and she didn't even know why. He looked dashing in his suit. Of course, she found him handsome in his Gryffindor uniform, but now he looked like an adult.

He stood in front of her, admiring her face and the way her outfit looked on her. Marisol looked up at his timer and nearly cried. She flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest. He staggered back in shock, but slowly wrapped his arms around her.

"Marisol, what's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, rubbing her head against his chest. She felt his arms tighten around her.

"Is this about my timer?" he whispered.

She could hear him clearly, even through the screams and laughter of children. Her heart dropped as she debated. She looked up at him and nodded.

"I see," he said. "Then, I guess I gotta make the most out of my time, huh?" He offered her a smile. "My flat's above the shop. Let's talk. Is that all right?"

She nodded and let go of him. "Sorry."

"It's all right." He grabbed her hand and began to pull her through the crowd. "Hey, Georgie, I'm gonna go up to the flat with Marisol. Can you and Willa take care of things here?"

George nodded. "Sure thing, Freddie. Don't do anything inappropriate!"

Fred shook his head with a smile on his face. "When have I, the Fred Weasley, ever done anything inappropriate?"

"Oh - you rascal," teased George as Fred laughed and passed him on the way to their flat upstairs.

Marisol was sitting on Fred's couch as he prepared a kettle in the kitchen.

"Green or chamomile?" he asked, lifting up two teabags.

"Chamomile," she replied.

He set the teabag inside the kettle, then let it settle. He walked over to the couch, then sat next to Marisol.

"How much time?"

"Two years," she whispered.

He leaned up and looked at her. "Well, I think that's plenty of time for me to enjoy my life and make new memories, don't you think?"

"How can you be so positive about this?" she asked. "I - I look at you and I - " Tears began to fall. "I can't look at you without crying. I don't want to lose you, Fred. It's not fair."

He placed his large hand on the top of her head. "It doesn't seem like it, but with death, it's not a matter of fair or not. Death happens."

She shook her head. "But not you. I don't want it to be you. Most people's times are unclear, so why? Why is yours set and why is it so soon? I don't want it!"

He smiled sadly and rubbed her tears away with the pad of this thumb. He leaned in and kissed her eyelid. She sniffled, leaning into his warmth.

"We don't get to choose," he whispered.

"What's the point of this gift if I can't help anyone?"

He shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that, but I'm still glad you told me."

The kettle whistled. He stood up and beckoned her to follow him into the kitchen. Marisol stood by the threshold while he pouted the tea into two mugs. He held out one mug to her, and she walked over, grabbing the mug.

"I don't understand how you're calm," she whispered.

"I have to be - for Georgie, Mum, Ron, all my family. They don't need this weight on their shoulders. There's already too much on the line, and this would just devastate them."

She nodded, sniffling as she sipped the tea. He gazed at her. She was devastated by his timer, and he wished he wouldn't die so soon, but he had no control over it. He stepped closer, giving her no time to react as he lifted her chin up and kissed her. She gasped, but eased into the kiss.

Once they broke apart, she asked, "Is that date still available?"

He grinned. "Absolutely."