NO SIGNAL ➝ FRED WEASLEY [1] ✓

EIGHTY SIX [SHELL COTTAGE]

Christmas at Shell Cottage was a subdued affair. Its residents wished for nothing more than to spend the holiday with their loved ones at the Burrow; however, seeing as there were two criminals hiding out there, they had to spend their Christmas with only each other for company.

Since Amelia and Ron were not allowed out in public, the four of them decided not to exchange gifts that year. So when Amelia came downstairs from her bedroom for breakfast, it was just like every other morning she'd spent there.

"Merry Christmas, Amelia." Fleur said as she set a plate of eggs and toast in front of Amelia, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

Amelia forced a smile. "You too, Fleur."

She shoved a forkfull of eggs into her mouth, wincing at the taste. It wasn't that Fleur wasn't an amazing cook—she was, Amelia was sure of it. But everything Amelia ate since her fight with Fred had left a bad taste in her mouth. Everything tasted like cardboard.

Ron sat down next to her, and she felt a warmth in her heart upon seeing the orange hair on his head and the freckles on his cheeks. Even Bill reminded her of Fred, in a way. Neither Bill nor Ron was as tall as Fred, but if she squinted hard enough, their features all mixed together just enough to look even the tiniest bit more like him.

It was sad, really, how much she missed him. It had only been less than a month since the last time she saw him, and their last conversation had ended on a bad note. She longed to reach out to him and ask him to come be with her at Shell Cottage, but her and Ron's safety depended on limiting the amount of people that could know their whereabouts.

She also desperately wanted to beg Bellamy to come stay with her and keep her company. She loved Bill, Fleur, and Ron, she really did—but she loved her sister more. And being indefinitely separated from her was slowly draining the life out of her.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked from next to her, mouth full of toast.

Amelia smiled halfheartedly. "Yeah, I'm fine." She lied.

She pushed her plate of half-eaten breakfast away and stood up, walking towards the coatrack near the door.

"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later." She said as she grabbed her jacket.

Fleur looked up at her with alarm. "Meely, it's snowing out there. You'll freeze to death." She said, concerned.

While shrugging on her coat, Amelia replied, "I'll be flne. I won't go too far—I'll stay within the wards."

Without another word, she opened the front door and left the cottage, into the snowstorm.

The tip of her nose instantly went numb, and the harsh wind whipped cruelly against the exposed skin of her hands, neck, and face.

She walked to the end of the property, right on the beach where the ocean met the sand, and looked out at a horizon that was too indistinguishable from the blizzard to see clearly.

Amelia sat down in the sand, ignoring how the snow on the ground soaked through her jeans and bit into her skin.

She took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

She screamed until her voice gave out and she didn't have any energy left to keep screaming.

It was cathartic for her to let it all out—all the anger, hatred, loneliness, sadness, pain, and anxiety—and not have to worry about anyone hearing her, for Shell Cottage was the only inhabited house for miles.

Part of Amelia wanted to strip off all her clothes and go for a swim in the likely frigid water, to feel the waves lapping against her skin. Would her entire body go numb, like her nose and her fingers? Or would it be the sharp, painful type of cold? Would she sink or would she float?

She shook her head to get out of that mindset. She had to be rational, now that Bellamy wasn't around to do all the thinking for her. She couldn't go and drown herself just to shut off the pain she felt.

Amelia sighed, standing up. She cast one last look at the tumultous ocean before walking back to the cottage.

a sad meely chapter for ur reading pleasure